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My Obsession – Anita Pallenberg

Queens, New York, June 13th, 2017, 3:30pm After experiencing not a single day of hot weather topping 80 degrees in two years, I couldn’t believe that it was heading for 98 to 100 degrees the day I was going to shoot my new music video, on the hot Brooklyn corner of McDonald Avenue and Avenue N. But I was smiling, as I usually do, at the absurdity of my dishevelled plans. I was wearing one of my cracked brown Italian leather/black velvet, skin-tight tops (yes, designed and made by me, Roxanne Fontana). No bra is allowed, or possible, being held tight in that leather. It was a special moment for me when I finally got to clip in my big, newly-acquired sterling hoop earrings, with traditional rams at the bottoms. I acquired these on ebay, from an Italian man living in Toronto. The seller was gracious enough to be bothered with my inquiries and told me the Italian town in which he purchased them, in the late 1960s. I instantly loved these earrings when I saw them on the internet. They were soooo Aries Anita Pallenberg. Martian energy. I put them in excitedly and ran to another mirror to see them. With my long hair and New York vibe, and with Anita in my mind, my immediate impression of myself was, “Oh my God, I look like Patti Paladin.” This made me chuckle instantaneously because Patti is one of Anita’s best friends. My mind moves like mercury, with much energy. I’ve been admired for it and criticized for it. Hence thoughts and ideas brewed in quick flashes: Perhaps I can show this video I am making to Patti, who would show it to Anita, because Anita would like this song. Anita would like this song, I knew: My magical Down Syndrome daughter, who is an amazing musician at 14 years old, informed me of this. Practicing her piano around my house in England, she had played my song, ‘He Does the Look’, and segued into ‘Beast of Burden’. This was a real aha moment for me, which I was not pleased with! But back to the present lightning mind! I remember that Anita loved ‘Beast of Burden’. I then put on my bracelet from Italy, that is charmed with sterling rose-gold and yellow-gold little Italian horns, another totem of mine, to her.

New York City, Winter, 1979, Hurrah “Beast of Burr-den!” she drawled to the stage. This was Anita Pallenberg. She was heckling her friend Richard Lloyd. I watched from a distance of about 10 people, trying to avoid her. Earlier that evening, across the vast dancefloor, I spotted her. She was beaming and smiling at me, so I waved to her. She did not wave back. It was ridiculous: She wore a pink sweater, blue jeans, and gold shoes. I wore a pink velvet tunic with a boat neck and a drawstring at the low waist. I remember this top of mine so clearly because it was my favourite top, which ended up getting stolen out of someone’s car down the block from Max’s Kansas City. However, this night I wore it proudly with my blue jeans and gold boots. Twins – Anita Pallenberg, and me, the teenage head of the Brian Jones Fan Club. Magic. After Anita didn’t wave back at me, she slammed into me on the dancefloor, really hard. It shook me to the core, and I am in my blood more Italian than she is (100%). Being a true New Yorker, I didn’t say anything. I gave her an unenamored look that was a toned-down expression of what I felt inside, which was, “Whoa, motherfucker.”

What a reversal situation compared to the first time I met her, just a few weeks before, also at Hurrahs. On that night, I had recognized her, standing close by. I struggled to contain my excitement as the 19 year-old president of the Brian Jones Memorial Fan Club. My fan club was run out of Long Island, recognized by the Stones office and record company. On that first occasion, as soon as she went to go to the bathroom, I had no shyness about me and blatantly followed her in. Or shall I say more like chased her in! She turned around slowly and surely to greet me/confront me, who ran after her. I said to her, “What is your name?” She said, “What is your name?” I said, “Roseann,” and she put her hand on my chest above my breast and said, “Ah, Roxanne.” I was wearing my tight super-cool black T-shirt of the first Police album. Our conversation consisted of me speaking to her through the bathroom door. I sat comfortably on the sink, as she would. She was in the booth with her friend, doing drugs of course. It was a funny conversation, because I was gushing, and she kept telling me to stop, because I was going to make her cry. This went on for a little while before she told me she would make a movie with me someday, as I said goodbye to her through the crack in the bathroom stall.

But this night, on this second chance meeting, at the Richard Lloyd concert, the band came on, after the body-slam attack, and Anita yelled things at Richard. I was planning a getaway, because I knew something was up. As soon as the band ended, Anita and her folks made a beeline – towards me. Quite a change from our first meeting. I couldn’t escape. I was caught up with in the doorway. I was wearing my Brian Jones button, which I still own. It’s a lacquered photograph from 1965, which is about 3 x 3 inches. I’d been wearing it for years! So Anita’s friend said to me that Anita wanted my button, and that she’d pay me anything I want for it. After being body-slammed by her, there was no way she was going to get my fucking badge. I said, “No, it’s not for sale.” I then explained to him that I ran a fan club for Brian. He delivered this news to the smiling Anita at the bar, and after our conversation, in which he procured my phone number, he asked me again about getting the button. The next morning when I woke up, at my parents’ house, where I lived, I noticed a one-inch crack, a crackle in the lacquer of my Brian button. I was really furious with this. I felt like she did it, and that I’d never let her know that she did it, because I wouldn’t sell it to her. This reaction of mine, of course, was all based on the mythology of Anita Pallenberg, this powerful European model in charge of the Rolling Stones. Maybe it was Brian who cracked it. Maybe it was God, or some supernatural force that cracked it. But I just assumed it was her. My mother was aghast that I had spoken of having run-ins with this woman in the papers, involved with murder and the Rolling Stones. My mother was horrified because I had a collage of this woman.

When Anita’s entourage actually did telephone my house in the weeks that followed, I was amused that my father was so angry when he told me. I thought, “Oh, they’ll never call here again after getting him on the phone.” They never did. I was fine with that. A further run-in, when I was hanging out at CBGB, was equally disturbing. I was wearing my Brian oil-painting denim jacket and an antique velvet hat with a feather that hung off of it. Anita’s friend approached me in a nearly-empty CBGBs, at the bar. He asked me if I knew the number to Max’s. Of course, I did. Didn’t everybody? That was my attitude towards him as I relayed their phone number, which was just seven sevens. As I told him the number, I looked beyond him at Anita, who was staring at me in my antique velvet hat, looking terrified out of her mind as if she’d just seen a ghost.

I didn’t see Anita again in over 25 years. It just didn’t happen. I was a student of the occult, a Thelemite, for 11 of those years. These are the ones dedicated to the study of the writings of Aleister Crowley, the doomed English writer who died in the late forties. This isn’t so unusual, to be a music person who is a follower of this religion, as it were. But the difference with me was that I didn’t discover it from Led Zeppelin. I discovered it reading fanciful biographic depictions of this woman, Anita Pallenberg. I can probably be sure that Anita, of the Paraphernalia Generation, was probably nowhere near as dedicated and serious about this stuff as I had been. When I first encountered her back then at Hurrahs, five years after my teenage obsession with her, I had just been given my first Tarot deck, the Book of Thoth and I wore a long gray coat made of goat. I guess she recognized all of these things.

Many years later, having embraced magick, and then scorned and abandoned it, I saw Anita again. But during all of these years, I was under her mythical spell. And others claim to be. Most usually in a sense to do only with something seemingly superficial: visual style, fashion. But it is important, what we look like every day, isn’t it? A few months ago I purchased, for over £200, one of the cashmere sweaters designed by Bella Freud, which feature Anita’s image on the entire front. It was available in white, gray or pale pink. Of course, I had to choose the pink, considering our ‘pink top’ history from Hurrahs, and I just knew it would be Anita’s choice. I’ve always craved her large amethyst ring that she wore for over a decade. In this past year, I learned from a book that it actually belonged to Tara Browne, best friend of Brian Jones, and I found myself a ring, that looks similar, an old ring, from the 1960s.

A literal long-lost cousin, employed by the Rolling Stones circus, allowed me a family visit backstage at a London Stones concert. I arrived and sat at a table with my cousin’s girlfriend, catching up. In a flash, Anita appeared before me, reached down and swept something violently off the table in front of me, with fire in her eyes towards me. My relative looked slightly taken aback. I mocked exaggeration, insult, and recoil. What a dance! I saw her as her former self with that mood, not this very old woman, looking years beyond her age standing before me. But I knew exactly why she did this to me. The communication was clear, “What do you think you are, looking like that, with my hair, talking to her?” As soon as my husband appeared, decades younger than myself, and with his 28-inch waist, Anita changed, and was sweet to me. She realized I was not likely after Keith. She was concerned about my daughter’s hearing during the concert. I chatted to her friend who I’d met, (still part of the circus), ages ago, at Hurrahs. He didn’t remember me, he said he didn’t remember what he had for breakfast.

It has been written that Anita never designed any clothing despite getting a degree at St Martin’s in London for fashion. This is not true. Under the brief fashion house of Zoltar the Magnificent, she did some t-shirts (of Brian Jones’ grave), and a dress, which came in a few colors. She gave one of these to my cousin’s girl, who gave it to me. I cherish it, I wear it, it is the sexiest thing ever, in Pistachio green. I understand it comes in red, and I’ve been on the hunt for it.

At another post-2005 encounter, I chatted to Anita’s friend Patti Paladin about New York stuff. Patti demeaningly grills me in the way that makes me feel as if I’m 17, which is fine with me. As I answered her, Anita was smiling and beaming at me. I used to see Patti join Johnny Thunders onstage at Max’s in the mid- to late seventies. I was underage and completely charged by these moments, which usually started at 1am while my parents slept on Long Island thinking I was sleeping at a nearby friend’s house.

The next encounter with my mysterious obsession is my favourite. It is cosmically deliberate. On this final occasion, backstage, sitting in Keith Richards’ room, two feet away from him on the sofa, when she came in. He loved her so much. He got up and sing-songed her name, as she strolled towards him, and they embraced. “A-ni-TA”. They sat together chatting, and when I looked over at them, they were both smiling at me, pointedly. Me, with my Anita haircut, raunchily duplicated, because you can’t do Anita’s hair without anti-salon raunch, darling. In 1988, New York’s Downtown Magazine placed me on their cover, declaring me “The Hippest Lady in New York.” But this moment backstage at the Rolling Stones concert, with Keith and Anita admiring me, I got my halo of cool.

The End Into the hot, sweltering traffic I embarked, in what turned out to be a trip lasting more than an hour within Brooklyn. I was going to shoot ‘He Does the Look’ right on the corner where I bought all of my singles in the late sixties. A wonderful neighbourhood, a neighbourhood where in fact Patti Palladin is from. As soon as I arrived on the set, as I was checking my Facebook messages to find out where the hell everybody was, I was getting a communication from Rolling Stones world. I was an hour and a half late for my own video shoot for ‘He Does the Look’. I feared everyone came and went. There was an overheated energy in the air, obviously literally, but in some other way. I learned no one came and went. No one was coming. They were all stuck in some weird funk, confused, in the dysfunctional morass of the transport system of the New York area. It was a hot and comatose vortex. I’ve been feeling pretty easygoing lately, so between the hot weather and the traffic, I was still feeling everything would work out fine. I can get way too high-strung, and in danger of making myself ill. Thus after much self-brainwashing, which has taken the past few years to master, I refuse to get freaked out. As I sat there, basically rolling with it, and happy that the filmmaker showed up, ex-Rolling Stones guitarist Mick Taylor’s girlfriend was asking me if it was true, if I knew that Anita died. I was just rejecting this possibility. I couldn’t believe that I was just thinking of her with these frigging earrings, and now to hear this news, trying to get this video shoot happening properly. By the next day, however, sadness reigned in my heart.

I flew back to my home in England, and couldn’t shake it. I climbed my stairs to my bedroom, and glanced at the fanciful designed large gift box on my floor. My ridiculously expensive cashmere Anita sweater, which I haven’t worn yet, resides in this box, delivered wrapped in tissue and on a tissued pillow. My heart sank. I’ll never see her again, or talk to her, or even have the chance to have another odd scene again! I decided to buy a big plant of purple flowers. I thought I’d put it in my silver pot, for her, and the Moon. The idea of Keith Richards’ love song to her, ‘You Got the Silver’ must have been subconscious, or too obvious to matter, but how perfect. I pushed the dirt and root hard and down into the large silver ceramic. My front garden is vast and lush. I live on a big country property. As I stood up from planting the plant, I experienced a fast, sharp pain in the liver, and then all this white fluff appeared in the air. It was truly crazy. I understand Anita had liver complications to her death. I thought this stuff in the air was sheep fluff, because that’s what it looked like. There was tons of it, out of nowhere. Or maybe it was dandelion. I have lots of dandelion in the front of the house, because I eat it straight from the ground, for my liver. A close friend of mine told me this experience was Anita identifying herself, to acknowledge my attention to her, to her spirit and existence.

I can’t wait to see the footage to ‘He Does the Look,’ done on that Tuesday, 13 June. I sort of have high hopes for it, in that, as promised in our very first meeting, I was going to “make a movie” with A-NI-ta.

Roxanne Fontana

Roxanne Fontana is a singer, songwriter, recording artist, fashion designer and author of the memoir American Girl. As an indie artist, she has released several CDs and download singles. She has worked with Dino Danelli, Gordon Raphael and Jack Douglas as producers. Her antique beaded necklaces have been sold in Los Angeles, and her clothing designs have been sold in England.

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August 22, 2017 By : Category : Articles Cult Features Front page Heroes Icons Music Picks Style Tags:, ,
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American Girl by Roxanne Fontana

Image: Left: Joanne Triolo, Right: Roxanne Fontana

Excerpt from Chapter 4
 

“Ain’t this baby great, and ain’t that guy beautiful?”
 – Iggy Pop

It would be years before I’d be keen into astrology and all other sorts of divination, but nevertheless, there was something very fateful about that day in early July of 1976 when Josephine and I set out for New York City from Elmont.

I thought our mutual buzz was more about ‘going to the city’ than to see this seemingly strange woman named Patti Smith, perform. We both had no idea what to expect musically didn’t even talk about it. All we knew was what we had learned from Rock Scene magazine, that she was some sort of queen of a ‘scene’ that we never heard or read about anywhere except in that solitary publication. It almost seemed as if it was fictitious, this scene reported on with much excitement. The only reference points ever given to anything in the ‘real world’ was the occasional mention of the Stones, so of course, that was enough to get me and Jo interested, and it was enough for me to keep track of things. Plus, Rock Scene magazine was nice enough to pay attention to little me in Elmont by advertising my Brian Jones fan club. The first sign for me of this scene starting to take shape was when I saw a small mention in the daily newspaper about Central Park concerts and therein listed was the ‘Patti Smith’ show, so off we went.

It was to be the last ‘date’ in our friendship, which I hadn’t anticipated at the time; but I guess she did. She wore that open-mouthed Gemini smile I’ve learned a lot about since then ― which, although sincere, was completely detached. I don’t know whether or not Josephine really knew what she was doing, but basically, she was dropping me off and giving me away to this scene ― and a new life ― now have fun.

It was a beautiful day, and as we filed into Central Park we were excited to see that there were so many people to see Patti Smith. We wondered who they all were and if they’d seen her before; in short, how much did they know about this scene? We were pretty far back in the audience, and then the show began. It sounded like nothing I had ever heard before. It was rock ‘n’ roll alright; but not exactly like the Stones; not like the 60s or 50s, and thank the good Lord, nothing at all like the day’s current sounds. Besides rocking, it was also highly emotional ― almost ‘sick’; you know, ‘mental case’ – like. I would learn in the coming months that it was ‘art’ (or art/rat).

From the moment the band got on the stage though, I was very much fixated on the guitarist on the left side. The energy I was feeling from him was unbelievable. I couldn’t see his face and had no idea what his name was. All I knew was that he had skinny legs and a big red Stones tongue on the back of his white and green windbreaker. His hair was fair and he played the hell out of that Gibson guitar. His energy seemed as sunny as the day; nothing dark about it, In fact, it was a perfect juxtaposition to Patti and her more sullen energy, voice, and lyrics, as well as to the guitarist on the right and the keyboardist―all of whom projected a distinctly moody tone.

One had the feeling though that the majority of the musical talent as well as the ‘fuck’ energy causing everybody in the place to rock ― including the band ― was all coming from this sunny guy with the dirty blond hair. I discovered this observation was truly correct as I later learned he was the Venus ruled one (Taurus) and the others, Saturn (Capricorn). Josephine and I didn’t confer that much at all; we were under the spell of the performance ― standing the entire show with the whole audience and dancing in our spots. We’d never heard a single song before except “Land of a Thousand Dances,” which Patti broke into during one of the original numbers.

It was such a cool moment for us; we couldn’t even say or scream it ― we just were part of it. Josephine, though, was really excited about the few things I did say to her like, “Who is that guy?!?!?!? Who is he?!?!?!?!” She was laughing away and then leaned back and asked some guy to borrow his binoculars. She looked through them and said, “He’s cute ― look.” I took them from her and that was it. The music blasted around us and I could hear her laughing as I was falling in love through the binoculars. His jaw and high cheekbones were his prominent feature, and he was as pretty as a prince from another age, adorned with modern rock dress and a guitar. All I knew was that I had to meet him.

Toward the end of the concert, another guitar player named Tom Verlaine was introduced on the stage. The whole audience seemed to know who he was and gave him a big hand. His name was familiar to me from Rock Scene magazine; that make believe the world was all of a sudden becoming real for me. The band did a wildly emotional song, “Break It Up,” and even though it was the first time I had ever heard it, I felt as though something was happening to me inside my heart and making me want to cry ― even though I was as happy as a lark.
Core premonition.

Our ride home was pretty quiet. In fact, it took blocks for us to even say, “That was great, wasn’t it?” My mind was spinning around with plans about locating their album and finding out everything I could about that guitar player. But I wouldn’t have Jo to share all this with, because even though she had a great time, she apparently thought it was time to break away from our friendship and try something new―discover life on her own―with neither regrets nor our once-a-year get-togethers. Our friendship was just over―Gemini-style.

Had I not had a new obsession, this probably would have really hurt me deeply. After all, my father had constantly said ― and still, does ― that Josephine “ruined me.” Whatever that means. He was referring to our mutual and intense Rolling Stones obsession, of course.

I soon bought the Patti Smith Horses album and loved every minute of it. I got ‘possessed’ by all the spirits therein, found out that the gorgeous guy’s name was Ivan Kral and thought that I wanted to dress like Patti on the cover of the album―at least as far as my senior year back-to-school wardrobe was concerned. I didn’t think it would be too hard to pull together.

I found out in the latest Rock Scene magazine that CBGB had their own recording label, and an album out as well. I thought that it would be wonderful if I were to go there late one Saturday afternoon, buy the club’s album and check out the place when it would be empty. And I knew just who my accomplice would be.

The thing I liked about Margaret’s friend Joanne, who lived across the circle from her, was that she was quiet but upbeat and liked to laugh. And even though she wasn’t much of a conversationalist, she was lively and seemed like she was into doing new things, like going into the city ― the Village ― Avec moi, Roseann Fontana! I nervously called CBGB one day at about 4 p.m. and asked them if I could come by on Saturday around that time to buy the album, and they said “Sure!”

Joanne had learned all about my magical experience at Central Park, and she was a great audience for me. She was going to be a very good friend, I thought. Lisa Uterano was really my best friend by that time; but her dad, Mr. Record Company Big Shot, had obviously seen too much rock ‘n’ roll nightlife ― 70s style ― to let Lisa explore it; especially at fifteen years old! Lisa wasn’t as rebellious in her fashion as I was ― unfortunately for her! But I didn’t have to worry about Joanne disapproving of me, or not thinking I was cool; everything I did was A-OK with Joanne. In fact, she actually somewhat idolized me.

She was beautiful ― a beautiful Italian girl with very black straight hair parted down the middle. She looked half goth, and half hippie really, and she was into all of that. She had pretty eyes and white, white porcelain skin ― very odd for an Italian, I thought. I guessed she might be of Northern Italian descent. She was only 5 feet tall and had a decent figure, but you never were allowed to notice it. She seemed to be a bit hung up about her body and her sexuality, and so she draped herself in baggy clothes of beautiful fabrics. All of her life-force was seemingly concentrated on her face. She was a fantastic listener and would let me talk and talk and talk. She didn’t ever want to contribute much it seemed, and that was fine with me. In this sense, there were times during our friendship when I felt like a bit of a vampire ― that I was draining her completely and leaving her for dead.

She was Aquarius as Lisa was; but Lisa had an incredible personality, even though she also had that Aquarian trait of not letting on too much about themselves. Curiously, Joanne and Lisa didn’t like each other at all, even though they really didn’t know each other. I thought it was an instinctive thing. Or, maybe they were just fighting over my attentions, which was probably the case. Despite all of Lisa’s affected, regretful declinations to my city invitations, she insisted on knowing every last detail of every adventure I went on… She would beam at me ― all wide-eyed ― while smoothing down her short blonde curls.
Yet for all her feminine looks, she was oddly masculine; chain-smoking as her beloved Leon Russell records blasted from her bedroom in her family’s upscale home.

Joanne and I entered the sweet-looking record shop Bleecker Bob’s on MacDougal Street. Behind the counter stood Bob, who I noticed had home-made magazines hanging behind him on a wall. I immediately introduced myself as the President of the Brian Jones Memorial Fan Club and asked him if he’d sell my fanzines. He didn’t hesitate to say yes and got into a conversation with me about Brian. He told me that at the Monterey Pop Festival, Brian and Jimi Hendrix ingested the DMT drug by putting it under their eyelids. This revelation freaked me out a little.

I then noticed hanging behind Bob a large-size newspaper called New York Rocker, with that Blondie girl on the cover. Next to her body were the words Ivan Kral. I cut Bob’s ramblings short and asked to immediately have the newspaper. I bought it and as we walked out in the direction of CBGB, we had the paper open, looking at the pictures and skimming the article. “I knew he couldn’t be an American!” I exclaimed, as I read he was from Czechoslovakia. I didn’t even know where the fuck Czechoslovakia was. I also learned from the article that it was a communist country. All this was absolute food for my romantic head. A communist! Is that why he’s beautiful? Is that what communists look like? When Joanne and I got to CBGB, we were both nervous.

When we entered, we found it looked even more dank and dingy than in the black and white pictures in the magazine. It was, for God’s sake, just a bar of an odd shape. In the middle of the place, sitting on a bench was Hilly, the owner and a girl with an acoustic guitar. He was teaching her how to play “Your Cheatin’ Heart.” I was touched by this and tried not to interrupt. My mother had gotten me a cheap acoustic guitar when I was twelve and I even took a few lessons myself. I was a dabbler and found it enjoyable; I had even written a song.

When Hilly stopped and looked up, I stepped forward and announced that I was there to buy the album―trying to sound as cool as possible. He got up with a stretch and walked slowly back to the front with a wave of his arm. In those days he was so very nice and open; he was almost too nice to be ‘cool’, but I would eventually learn that most of the CBGB scene was like that ― very nice people and very similar to the Max’s Kansas City scene; well, almost.

“Do the groups Television and Patti Smith really hang out here besides just playing?” I asked, taking advantage of his kindness.
“Oh yeah!”
“Does Ivan Kral hang out here?”
“Yeah, they all hang out here!”
“I would love to come here but I just turned seventeen; I have to wait.”
“Oh no, we’ll let you in. Don’t worry, come on down, just don’t drink.”

In those days you could do that sort of thing. I guess. I mean, it was still illegal of course; but such policies got very strict in the post-punk era when there was a lot of rowdiness with the hard-core post-punk scene and CBGB had to start staging matinees to keep everyone happy. When we walked out of there, with me holding my CBGB album containing music of more bands that I’d never heard of at all, Joanne and I were over the moon. Life was getting good, I thought.

GRAB YOUR COPY HERE

Roxanne Fontana

Roxanne Fontana is a singer, songwriter, recording artist, fashion designer and author of the memoir American Girl. As an indie artist, she has released several CDs and download singles. She has worked with Dino Danelli, Gordon Raphael and Jack Douglas as producers. Her antique beaded necklaces have been sold in Los Angeles, and her clothing designs have been sold in England.

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August 22, 2017 By : Category : Culture Features Front page Literature Music Picks Tags:, , ,
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The Orders – Big Foot (Single)

Something is hunting me, rushing through the dark midnight woods I am stumbling, in a dream state, nothing seems to make sense anymore. I can hear the thundering sound of a Big Foot getting closer and closer. I can now see a Shack appearing to the front of me, near the cliff edge, the dense forest is now opening up and leading me to the glowing door. The stars are zipping around passing me in dazzling bright hues. The moon glares back at me knowingly. I grab the door handle, yanking it hard, I am suddenly in. I am blinded instantly by the light and the sounds of The Orders, a fine, young band from the Isle of Wight (UK) who are surrounded by candles, oil lamps, strobes and with strange daubs of occultist scribbles and ultra-violet type paint, they are making exquisite drifting chimes provided by guitar and lead warbler Kyle Chapman, punctured with happy stabs of snotty-garage punked-up psych with rumbling bass via Isaac Snow and a thundering groovy beats from Josh Edwards bashing the skins like a monster. Their latest single with mini midnight movie is ready for your aural pleasure. It is fresh yet classic, with rings of strong indie nu-pyschedelia, it has art and mystery in all the right places. These fine young chaps recently kept great company in the shape of the mighty Monochrome Set at a recent Newport show, and BBC6 have already been drooling over this current release. Things are afoot, in fact, things are gonna be Big (Foot). We predict great monster adventures ahead. This unit can fill that huge gap in the modern music mainstream with their dreamy-pop sense. Big Foot is indeed coming and availabe now to download via the links below. So get on the ‘Big Foot Trail’ and feel free to tell your crew about The Orders

DOWNLOAD VIA ITUNES

DOWNLOAD VIA SPOTIFY

 

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Boo Eyeplug acts as webmaster/designer for the Eyeplug site. Not the most social of creatures and with several personality issues, and rather exotic, eccentric tastes for obscure ‘cultish’ stuff which makes his ramblings seem even more sweetly abstract and often annoying.

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July 13, 2017 By : Category : Dark Eyeplugs Front page Garage Modern Modernist Picks Psychedelic Tags:, ,
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The Orders – If Gold Dust Turns To Stone

The Orders are a young three-piece creating waves currently on the Isle of Wight and way beyond. With recent BBC interest and a double appearance at the recent Isle of Wight Festival including a stint on the main stage, things are looking rosey for these ‘Caulkheads’ (please feel free to google that one and no it is NOT a type of drug!).

We had a  nice fresh signed copy of ‘If Gold Dust Turns To Stone’ on chunky 7-inch Vinyl, wrapped in a cool sleeve drop through our letterbox, recently and it went straight onto the turntable, and after several spins a Summer smile finally appeared on this cynical old face.

Kyle Chapman (guitar and vocals) seems at present to be the main songsmith for the Orders with shards of Telecaster guitar chopping into the fray with tidy support from the throbbing, wandering, bass-punch of Issac Snow (Bass & Backing Vocals) with the entire thing held together with the safe time-keeping of Joe Rowe on (Drums & Percussion) who for his age is a mighty fine drummer!

The A-side track, ‘If Gold Dust Turns To Stone’  has an energetic youthful vibrance with a ‘surf’ style twang here and there and a solid indie-sike- pop feel with mixed hints of The Kaiser Chiefs, The Stone Roses, The Artic Monkies, The Who, The Jam, all mashed up as influences, but with a nice dreamy twist. I even recalled a glint of ‘Crocodiles’ era Bunnymen and very early Cure, in there, as the nice space in and around this track with layered backing vocals added a lift and a confidence for even brighter things ahead. It would be great to get the Drummer Joe to add into making, even more, 3-part harmonies central to their sound and identity. The folks at Humbug Studios seem to have caught a moment in time nicely too!

The sound has a tinge of 1960s Freakbeat, West-Coast Sunshine Pop, and mixes that with a dose of gritty Britpop. They certainly have a poppy appeal that spills over onto the B-side track ‘Time Ran Circles’ which has a Roses’ style outro interplay at the end which illustrates how this band have already absorbed tons of melody, harmony and rhythmic spirals that will no doubt come out into their set list in the future.

So this gets a firm thumb’s up from us here at Eyeplug and we look forwards to seeing and hearing more from them soon!

Web Links

facebook.com/theorders
soundcloud.com/the_orders
Instagram – @the_orders
Twitter – @the_ordersuk

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Boo Eyeplug acts as webmaster/designer for the Eyeplug site. Not the most social of creatures and with several personality issues, and rather exotic, eccentric tastes for obscure ‘cultish’ stuff which makes his ramblings seem even more sweetly abstract and often annoying.

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July 13, 2016 By : Category : Indie Modernist Music Picks Pop Psychedelic Reviews Tags:, , , ,
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Event – The John Steed Ball

Count Indigo is a versatile pop singer, performer lyricist and compere of surprising vocal and aesthetic range. His music encompasses smooth baritone soul grooves, dark falsetto dance rhythms and exhilarating orchestral arrangements. The uniqueness of his approach to music – making comes out of combining mature themes of joy and betrayal and with a beguiling soulful accessibility. A decade of acclaimed nightclub & festival performances all over Europe and honed an intimate, humorous showmanship personified in his album, Homme Fatale.

He also is a well known Events designer, host and promoter, we spoke to him recently about his John Steed Ball Event.

01. Please tell us how your Year has been so far?

I really enjoyed performing on NYE at Vintage at Southbank. Its my third year there running and the balcony view to the Thames firework display is a fabulous way to see in the New Year. 2016 will be very exciting for Count Indigo!

02. Tell us about your current outlook with Song Creation and Writing?

I wake up with morning sickness these days! I have so many new songs written during 2015 ready to go! Impossible Dream and Bruton Street will certainly make people sit up and take notice in 2016!

03. The John Steed Ball… what’s the big idea here then?

The Avengers duality of conservatism and subversion has been an inspiration to me and millions of others. When Patrick Macnee died last Summer I just felt it would be great to mark his passing with a dinner-discotheque extravaganza that would celebrate his continuing international cultural impact. He’s the most famous British adventurer after James Bond and Sherlock Holmes. And definitely the one who’d be the best company!

04. What Entertainment can we expect to frame this very special evening?

There is a fantastic three course dinner a la carte. They’ll also be performances from yours truly, Catsuit-A-G0-G0! and The Jet Set International.

05. What is the setting and Venue like?

It’s all in the penthouse lounge bar and restaurant of Eight Club Moorgate. It’s the usual venue for my club Mrs Peels with the addition of an international standard restaurant and the usual heated balcony views across the City of London. All in all, pretty spectacular.

06. Do you have any special guests planned?

The highlight will be musical performances and speeches from Avengers co-stars Peter Wyngarde, Aimi Macdonald and Fenella Fielding. They’ll also being doing a lively Q & A session with the dinner guests.

07. What is the John Steed Ball in aid of?

The beneficiaries will be Patrick Macnee’s favoured charity The Actors Fund who look after those in need throughout the entertainment business and Medicinema who organise film screenings for patients in UK hospitals.

08. Would you say this is a good place for Local Businesses to network and hob-nob?

Eight Club is actually a private club for business people so its built for hob-nobbing! 5*Hotel levels of service and comfort in a lounge nightclub setting. Luxurious armchairs combined with a pulsating dancefloor – come along and join us for something special and unique!

09. What is the Soundtrack & Themes for the dancefloor and tell us about the special guest DJs?

The varied musical template is 60s international Jet Set sounds. Music to transport you to a glam dancefloor in St Tropez , Macao or Rio with a vibrant Swinging London beat. All set to a groovy soundtrack from the brilliant DJ Martin Green. A man with over a dozen extraordinary compilations of incredible pop, soundtracks and library music.

10. Where can folks buy their Tickets from?

Early bird tickets from £40 – £140 are now available here: GET TICKETS HERE

11. I hear that you have a rather clever Contest wherein folks can win a nice Prize? Is that ready to enter?

Yes, winners get free entry to the night and runners=up modernist art prints of The Avengers stars. ENTER THE CONTEST HERE

12. What did John Steed, Mrs Peel and The Avengers mean to you and why did it leave such a lasting Impression?

Its the combination of the surreal and the everyday that does it for me. Rodney Marshall who is making the keynote dinner speech describes it simply as the joy of Subversive Champagne. A combination of cool, ironic derring-do and with a gender equality that was incredibly progressive for 50 years ago! The smart dialogue, martial arts, kinkiness and catsuits might help too!

13. Do you think many programmes in Modern Media compare in any way?

There’s a very direct line to say Buffy The Vampire and even David Lynch. Whilst in the U.K. the knowing re-inventions of Doctor Who and Sherlock definitely owe The Avengers a lot.

14. What have you in mind for Count Indigo in 2016?

To release my excellent new music. Take Mrs Peels Club from strength to strength. Perform with Count Indigo Revue.

15. Can you tell us a post-festive Joke please?

What do you call a man who claps at Christmas? Santapplause! I’m opening a Gym for 2016 recreating Victorian techniques for dispatching ruffians with a walking stick. It will turn into Cocktail Yacht Club by the Spring!

admin

Boo Eyeplug acts as webmaster/designer for the Eyeplug site. Not the most social of creatures and with several personality issues, and rather exotic, eccentric tastes for obscure ‘cultish’ stuff which makes his ramblings seem even more sweetly abstract and often annoying.

More Posts - Website

January 4, 2016 By : Category : Culture Events Eyeplugs Interviews Nightlife Picks Vintage Tags:, , , , ,
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The Runaways – Scenester Reviews

The Runaways (Cherry Red Records CDMRED 237)

Girl groups are nothing new, and this was also true back in the mid-70’s, when a gang of teenagers kicked their way through the walls of the male-dominated music industry and staked their claim to rock immortality. Managed by the notorious Kim Fowley, equal parts Svengali, hustler and guide, Cherie Currie, Lita Ford, Jackie Fox, Joan Jett and Sandy West strapped on their guitars and took the boys on at their own game. Numerous line-up changes followed in their brief career, but it’s the first US LP our friends at Cherry Red have reissued here, and it’s this CD reissue I’ll confine my comments to.

The girls hit the ground running with ‘Cherry Bomb’, a lurking, threatening rocker that refuses to take ‘no’ for an answer, turning from a slow tease in the first three verse lines, to the haggard screech of a crone in the last. Ecstatic moans punctuate the song, ending on a glorious, Sweet-style metallic echo.

The hard, aggressive blues opening to ‘You Drive Me Wild’ leads into a straight ahead rock ‘n’ roller penned by Joan Jett, full of one-on-one sexual promise, an alternating riff and spiced up with plenty of yelping vocals and more and more ecstatic moans.

The glam racket of ‘Is It Day or Night?’ is another winner, from the pen of Kim Fowley, portraying the low-life ennui in the aftermath of a night – or a lifetime – spent pursuing life’s more hazardous pleasures. With lyrics like ‘Novocaine Lips’ and some great, crashing false endings, what other decade could this song have come from?

Proving that the basic rock riff always holds good, ‘Thunder’ takes us on a classic journey through love, drawing on age-old imagery of natures’ indomitable powers, held together with an insistent bass riff and Cherie’s voice handling the melody well.

Mention 70’s sleaze and the blue mask of Lou Reed makes its spectral appearance on the studio wall. The Runaways’ fine take on Lou’s eternal ‘Rock ‘N’ Roll’ has some surprisingly funky elements thrown in for good measure, nice bass runs, cowbells and some dry-throated screams to take it far enough away from the original to make it a true cover version, and not the usual obligatory tribute.

Cherie’s voice is loaded with suggestion in ‘Lovers’, a demanding, teasing song from Jett and Fowley, with a kiss-off that demands a reply.

Lou seems to have been implanted into the band’s DNA, if ‘American Nights’ is anything to go by. A distant relative of ‘Sweet Jane’, with fuzzy guitars proving a nice touch, in a characteristic song of youthful, dangerous adventure.

The basic two-note riff and Joplin-style shriek which opens ‘Blackmail’ gets your attention without any effort. A hard and nasty fuzz guitar solo in a song as literal as it is effective, Cherie’s voice ranges from a rough growl to a hacking cough as she spells out the terrible fate her former lover will face.

The Rolling Stones’ style opening riff of ‘Secrets’ sets the scene well, a tale of deceit and double lives with a whiff of the forbidden about the relationship. The feedback lead out is subtly handled, and a first on the LP.

A great, chugging bass line and a nasty/sexy voice opens The Runaways’ ‘Dead End Justice’. Basically a 1950’s style female juvenile delinquent film script, set to high-octane 1970’s rock music, with lyrics as hard as cheap nails; it’s the perfect (getaway) vehicle. Even the imaginary film title hides in the lyrics, ’Dead End Kids In The Danger Zone’ as our teen protagonists go from teasing the boys in their skin tight jeans and provoking fights, all in one brew and pharma-fuelled night. The inevitable come-uppance lands the pair in jail, at the tender mercies of police, wardens and other prisoners. Our girls plot their escape their voices a low whisper, but… Well, I’ll let you guess the rest if you’re too mean, or too snobbish, or just too plain dull to buy the LP. It’s a magnificent way to end, full of the 70’s ambitious stage-stylings, youthful swagger and later, the desperate nostalgia for an era they were too young to remember, and the girls bring it off brilliantly for the age it was minted in.

GRAB YOUR COPY HERE

Scenester

Scenester

Scenester lives in London and Brighton, as time allows. Enjoys music, film, television, books, design and anything else which won’t leave well alone. Old enough to know better.

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September 29, 2015 By : Category : Front page Garage Glam Music Picks Punk Reviews Rock Tags:, , , , ,
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The Incredibly Strange Music Box: LP Review

The Incredibly Strange Music Box: 60 Songs from The Cramps’ Crazy Collection (Righteous Psalm 23 85D)

CRAMPS CRAZY COLLECTION

Anyone picking up this monster compilation has probably already guessed that legendary schlock horror rockers The Cramps didn’t get their chops from listening to Eagles LPs. Come to think of it, they probably didn’t learn their licks here either, but the inspiration behind their scuzzy 60’s rock ‘n’ roll formula lurks in the bit stream of this double CD.

First up, one of the more familiar names of Rock n Roll history, Mickey & Sylvia treat us to their jittery, battle of the sexes washboard shuffle, ‘No Good Lover’. The Collins Kids’ innocent-sounding name leads us into a false sense of security, ready for their licentious ‘Whistlebait’, with a strangulated boy (or is it a girl?) vocal. Skip Manning’s basic Elvis grunt is enriched with fine distorted guitar on ‘Ham ‘n‘ Eggs’, a slightly comical take on the ‘We go together like…’ simile beloved of songwriters.

Smokey Joe’s Fats Waller-like croak provides a suitable voice for the crazy jungle rhythm of   ‘Signifying Monkey’, a ditty that’s less than the sum of its parts, although easily the best song title here. In our more sensitive age, we would probably baulk at ‘Stutterin’ Cindy’s mockery, but it’s easy to guess why Lux Interior would have liked this Charlie Feathers song.  The familiar scrape of plectrum on steel guitar string signals the appearance of the great Bo Diddley, in a steady rocker, ‘Congo’, with a heady infusion of exotic jungle atmosphere.

The hurtling comedy of The Aladdins’ harmony piece, ‘Munch’ comes on like an even dumber ‘Give Me Back My Bubble-gum’, and with a crazy sax break cranking it higher. The sax is downright salacious on Joe Dodo’s ‘Groovy’,  but we get a chance to cool our heels and our ardour in Jim Backus & Friend’s ‘Delicious!’, a sort of guffawing, Stateside take on Champagne Charlie furnished with an equally bibulous female companion. Sticking with the inebriate theme, we get a fairly standard country whine, ‘Here I Am Drunk Again’, from Clyde Beavers.

Sparkle Moore’s ‘Skull and Crossbones’ has our tough gal giving her man a good ticking off, and how easy it is to imagine the young Poison Ivy Rorschach hearing this little gem and filing it away under ‘Personal Style’. Rusty Draper’s stammering vocal on the banjo-driven country stomp ‘Tongue Tied over You’ might have been a little too much for the age it was minted in, but has its moments. Charlie Ryan & The Timberline Riders’ ‘Hot Rod Guitar’ is a steady roller with nimble fretwork, but there’s not much here to elevate it above the usual fare.

The Sheiks’ ‘Baghdad Rock’ instro is an obvious Cramps favourite, with its ‘The Walk’ style beat and weird, haunting horn. The Duals’ stormy ‘Lovers Satellite’ has a crystal clear guitar solo to clean the eardrums out, and The Invaders ‘Shock Treatment’ comes on like a lost Jo Meek track, all ghostly calls over a standard surf backing. Freddie & The Hitch Hikers’ ‘Sinners’ makes good use of a not-so-heavenly chorus, in this sermon-infused chugger. It would be nothing but a low swindle to leave out ‘Tequila’, and it’s ‘The Three Suns’ take which does the honours here.

A solid hint of menace and some icy-cool guitar work in The Ventures’ ‘Green Onions’, followed by a Billy Fury-like moody vocal performance from Gary Warren, in ‘Midnight Rain’, a memory song with a whispering chorus that provides two high spots in a row on this first disc. A genuine, murmuring blues with brooding guitar, in the form of Kenyon Hopkins’ ‘Let Me Out’, takes us deftly into a crazy rocker with heavily distorted guitar and primitive lyrics in ‘Hot and Cold’ by Marvin Rainwater.

Hank and the Electras’ ‘Get Lost Baby’ is a tepid little number, in spite of its great title, but redemption is on the way with The Bikinis’ ‘Crazy Vibrations’ a rattlesnake-like sound, with tinkling piano behind and a snaky, pumping sax with deep twangy bass fattening up the beat. Those of you with a taste for low-end comedy will love Jerry Neal’s ‘I Hates Rabbits’, but we’re soon into the truly inspired ‘Twistin’ In The Jungle’, Buddy Bow’s near-horror movie soundtrack with its bonkers bongos and brass.

James and Septette’s ’‘Congo Elegy’ comes on like a perverse Bobby ‘Boris’ Pickett out-take, with a mambo struggling to get out of the piece, and desperate, salacious lyrics. A standard Bill Haley-o-like beat for ‘Tarzan’ from Glen Reeves & His Rock-Billys, and to end this disc, two songs entitled ‘Voodoo Doll’. The Interiors (dig that name…) piece is an R ‘n’ B chugger and Glenda and Glen’s has an unnerving female vocal and random raindrop sound in the bass that does the job the more effectively of the two. (Heard that name before somewhere, too.)

The innocent sounding Buddy Holly-ish performance of ‘Straight Skirt’ by Gene Summers that opens the second CD belies the rather lecherous subject matter. The Ventures are in fine form in ‘Bumble Bee Twist’, picking their way precisely through a ‘Man of Mystery’ style riff. The Romans’ ‘Uh Huh’ is every bit as primitive as the title suggests a crazy piece of exotica, chugging guitars and exclaiming sax. Art Wood’s hillbilly hiccupping on ‘My Jib’ is a little too stereotypical to satisfy. The fast, jazzy rock ‘n’ roll and sax craziness of Sil Austin in ‘Fallout’ is far more pleasing to the ear.

Charlie Feathers’ ‘Wild Wild Party’ shuffle has its moments, as does Gene Simmons and the Rebels’ ‘Twixteen’, an Eddie Cochrane-a-like treatment of a tale of perilously young sexual allure. Martin Denny’s ‘Misirlou’ uses creepy woodwind and drum brushes hissing their snakeish rhythm in a very different take on the classic tune.

The Forbidden Five show us why they’re called so, with their bongos, animal noises and weird Eastern/Western rhythms in ‘RFD Rangoon’,  and continuing with the Eastern stylings, Preston Love and Orchestra serve up a tasty slice of exotica in ‘Ali Baba’s Boogie’. The Bambinos’ ‘Algiers’ is another entry in the downright disturbing category, and Marvin Rainwater’s distorted echo sounds like it was produced with some species of elastic band, on his bizarre ‘Boo Hoo’. Dick Penner’s ‘Cindy Lou’s slightly mocking guitar notes and sinister twang perfectly suit this borderline suggestive song. Skip Manning’s ‘Devil Blues’ is more big band than bottleneck, with its ‘behave or face the consequences’ message.

The Red Callender Sextet offer up more exotica in ‘Voodoo’, and Garry and Larry’s hard driven ‘Garlic Bread’ is by way of total contrast.

Moving into the Red Zone, The Blenders’ ‘Don’t F*ck Around With Love deliver the doo-wop  song sweetly, making the profanity all the more of a surprise, but The Empallos’ ‘Hi Cups’ mighty sax creep is true instro-salaciousness.  The Midnighters’ rock ‘n’ roller ‘Sexy Ways’ fully lives up to its name.

‘Gumbo’ by Shades of Rhythm has a loose, crazy feel, and The Voxpoppers ‘The Last Drag’ has a screechy-voiced treatment with the faint air of Fats Domino about it. Roland Janes’ ‘Guitarville’ has the fabulous spacey twangy bass and subtle, tapping drums of a surf classic. The Ventures’ ‘Ginchy’s faintly Neo-Classical high-note guitar workout pleases, and Spot Barnett’s loud, brash, Rock ‘n’ Blues ‘Sweetmeats’ is enlivened by a wavering sax. For my money, the standout track here is ‘Young William & The Jamaicans’ urgent, echoed ‘Limbo Drum Part 1’. Ike Turner Orchestra’s ‘Cuban Get Away’ seems a little too far removed from Ike to be all his work. Our CD selection closes with Bobby Rhines and the Rogues’ call-and-response  festival, ‘Port Zibee Part II’ and Tommy Mercer and the McBrides’ ‘Volcano Rock’, a left-field rock ‘n’ roller with enough sound effects to make even Joe Meek blush.

What’d’ya mean, you’ve got ‘em all?

GRAB  A COPY HERE

Scenester

Scenester

Scenester lives in London and Brighton, as time allows. Enjoys music, film, television, books, design and anything else which won’t leave well alone. Old enough to know better.

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July 20, 2015 By : Category : Cult Front page Music Picks Punk Reviews RnB Rockabilly Tags:, , ,
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Patrick Macnee – Obituary

Mrs Peel We’re Needed!

The sad passing of Patrick Macnee, the star of the legendary cult TV show The Avengers has no doubt left fans of the show in mourning. According to reports Patrick Macnee died peacefully on Thursday at his home in Rancho Mirage, California with his family by his bedside.

Patrick Macnee died at the age of 93 and was arguably most famous for his brilliant portrayal of the quintessential English eccentric secret agent John Steed in the ‘’Spy-Fi’’ television series in the 1960s. However, Macnee made over 150 appearances in television and film, which spanned across 5 decades and he also had a distinguished military career as a seaman in the Royal Navy during World War II.

Patrick Macnee became indelibly linked with the character John Steed as Macnee came across as a well-spoken, witty, and charming old school English gentlemen much like his alter ego in The Avengers. For fans of the series Macnee and John Steed were almost inseparable, and he acknowledged this in 1967 when he said in an interview that ‘’I know the part of Steed was created for me, and it was developed from my own background and personality, but I am still a long way from being typecast’’.

However, fact and fiction often get blurred in these scenarios, and need to be separated in order to get a clearer picture of Patrick Macnee’s life prior to his most famous role.  Macnee was born in London in 1922 and was raised in Berkshire by a wealthy and somewhat aristocratic family. Despite this seemingly privileged lifestyle there lay family dysfunctionality, which came in the form of his eccentric father and lesbian mother. His father Daniel Macnee trained and bred horses, but his extra-curricular activities included heavy drinking and gambling, which saw him whittle away the family fortune. The young Macnee was then raised by his newly divorced mother Dorothea Mary and her lover.  Macnee would later attend Summer Fields School in Oxford followed by a stint at Eton College, and it was at Eton that he developed a burgeoning taste for life in the performing arts.

It appeared that Macnee’s acting career took the traditional route of theatre, television and films. However, it seems that Macnee’s early foray into television did not run smoothly and he landed peripheral and unsatisfying roles in films such as Pygmalion in 1938. His role as an extra in this film set the immediate template for his acting career, which stagnated to some extent and was cut short altogether with the onset of World War II.

Macnee was enlisted into the Royal Navy in 1942 and the carnage that he witnessed in WWII, including the death of close friends prompted him to famously resist using a gun in The Avengers, despite protestations from the producers of the show. Once he completed his military service he won a scholarship to study at the Webber Douglas School of Dramatic Art. He subsequently resumed his acting career and appeared in minor roles in films such as The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (1943), and as young Jacob Marley in A Christmas Carol (1951), and the musical comedy Les Girls (1957).

Perhaps it was these more minor roles, which led Macnee to try his acting luck in the United States and then Canada with the Old Vic Troupe. However Macnee landed only small and somewhat inconsequential roles in television and films. When Macnee returned to the UK he landed a role as a producer on the Winston Churchill themed documentary The Valiant Years in 1960 and within a year his acting career would be relaunched in spectacular fashion when he was cast as John Steed in The Avengers.

When Macnee was cast as Steed in The Avengers in 1961 he was in a supporting role as the show initially focused on Dr David Keel played by Ian Hendry. It would be fair to say that The Avengers in 1961 bared little resemblance to what the show eventually became famous and much loved for. As a viewing spectacle these early episodes of The Avengers were plodding, staid and devoid of any sense of  real irony or subtle humour. It was the irony, innuendo and wit that characterised the series in the mid to late 1960s so splendidly. But what sent The Avengers into a whole new spear of popularity in 1962 was Macnee assuming the lead role after the departure of Ian Hendry, and pairing his alter ego Steed with a succession of assertive, independent and intelligent female assistants.

It was a stroke of genius on the part of the producers to team Steed up on an equal footing with a female, who more often than not came to his rescue when he was in trouble. The succession of actresses to assume the joint lead role included Honor Blackman, Dame Diana Rigg, and Linda Thorson. The Avengers became very popular when Steed was paired with Cathy Gale played by Blackman; however the show became a runaway success when Steed was paired with the delectable Mrs Emma Peel (Dame Diana Rigg) in 1965.

John Steed and Emma Peel became arguably one of the most identifiable and charismatic double acts ever seen on television. Both characters had chemistry between them that was magical and utterly irresistable to watch. The witty dialogue and innuendo, which was playful, light hearted and often flirtatious was part of the appeal for viewers as more often than not there was the suggestion of romance between the two characters

They were indeed a match made in television heaven as viewers were treated to fantastical story lines and surreal visuals that were stunningly brought to life when colour episodes were introduced in 1967. Macnee was also a style icon in his own right and his alter ego Steed was always impeccably dressed in Saville Row and Pierre Cardin designed 3-piece suits, beautifully tailored shirts and a cravat or tie. Part of the allure for fans of The Avengers was the stunning clothes worn by Steed and his female assistants. His immaculately tailored suits and his legendary bowler hats and umbrellas set this dandy far apart from everyone else in the sartorial stakes.

Macnee and Rigg became so famous in their roles that they must have been in danger of being type cast. It must have been almost impossible for viewers at the time to digest the news that Rigg was standing down from her role as Emma Peel in October 1967. Her final appearance in Forget-Me-Not coincided with the introduction of Steed’s latest sidekick Tara King played by Linda Thorson.

The tear jerking final episode sees Emma Peel say an emotional goodbye to Steed with the quip ‘’always keep your bowler hat on in times of stress’’, which added a comic and poignant finale to one of television’s greatest ever double acts. Emma then gets into her car with her bowler hatted husband Peter (who bears a remarkable resemblance to the on looking and bemused Steed) and glances back at Steed with a wry smile on her face, and it is this final knowing glance at Steed and then her husband, which confirms that her ideal man all along was someone who was the mirror image of Steed.

The Avengers would continue until 1969 and Linda Thorson as Tara King had the unenviable task of trying to fill the massive void left by Diana Rigg. The relationship between Steed and his new cohort was even more flirtatious, suggestive and innuendo laden than ever before, but sadly for Linda Thorson her character was a little subservient and often came across as vulnerable and silly, which undermined the character and was the antithesis of her predecessor. However, by 1969 the show ran into financial difficulty when it lost the backing from ABC in America. The producers reluctantly decided that The Avengers could not continue and the so called last ever episode Bizarre was screened in May 1969.

Macnee would eventually reprise his role as the much loved John Steed in The New Avengers in 1976, and this time he was assisted by Purdey (Joanna Lumley) and Mike Gambit (Gareth Hunt). Although the show was very popular with viewers it failed to recapture the magic and humour of the original series. Although there was chemistry between the three characters it rather felt like the show should never have been resurrected as The Avengers was a quintessentially 1960s show, and all the avant-garde ideas of the original Avengers was sadly never repeated in the latter carnation of the show, and the series came to an end in 1977 after a run of 26 episodes.

Macnee’s other significant acting roles included parts in Battlestar Galactica (1979), This is Spinal Tap (1984), A View to a Kill (1985) and Around the World in 80 Days (1989). However, Patrick Macnee will forever be remembered for his brilliant portrayal of the bowler hatted and umbrella wielding eccentric British secret agent John Steed, in one of the most influential television series ever made in the UK. The Avengers enduring popularity ultimately lay in the casting of a pair of fabulous characters in John Steed and Emma Peel. The brilliant portrayal of the eccentric, stylish, witty and lovable spy John Steed will keep the memory of Patrick Macnee alive in the hearts and minds of fans of The Avengers for many more years to come.

Long John

Charming Chap and a new sharp force for Eyeplug, being a toppermost writer with a keen appreciation for things of quality and distinction. A well known face on the London ‘Mod’ Scene but with an open mind and heart. Got a strange interest in Pirates? One to watch out for!

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June 29, 2015 By : Category : Articles Cult Culture Eyeplugs Front page Heroes Media Picks TV Tags:, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
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Brian James: LP Review by Colin Bryce

Brian James: The Guitar That Dripped Blood (Easy Action)

Brian James’ distinctive guitar tone, riff-craft and sonic song-writing style is on full alert here on this new one from Easy Action. Ten top tracks that echo the Damned, Stooges and James’ own previous solo classics (Tanz Der Youth, Brains etc) and that push this one hard. James doesn’t handle all the lead vocals here though – it makes little or no sense to me that James would have anyone other than himself sing. His charismatic drawl is everything that these songs need. Guest vocalist Adam Becvar (4 tunes) sounds similar enough to be unnecessary and but different enough to want to hear James back taking the lead. This is a rough and ready release and guest guitarist Cheetah Chrome grinds it out with James on ‘Becoming a Nuisance’ just to add that little bit more Stoogey-grind so beloved by both guitarists. (10 tracks.)

GRAB A COPY HERE!

Web Links
easyaction.co.uk

 
 

 

Colin -Mohair Sweets- Bryce

One of Canada’s late 70’s “punk” rock crowd and from 1997 to 2007 the fellow behind Mohair Sweets print and webzine. Currently passes the time by playing the odd gig or two, shaking his head, wringing his hands and pondering whether or not the tape vaults of the legendary Pirates are really exhausted.

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June 5, 2015 By : Category : Eyeplugs Front page Garage Music Picks Post-punk Punk Reviews Tags:, , , ,
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The Montecristos: LP Review by Colin Bryce

The Montecristos: Born to Rock‘n’Roll (Easy Action)

Its rock‘n’roll fetish time! Big ‘ol guitars! A blazing (all gal) horn section with a stand-up bass pumping the bottom of that primitive rockin’ rhythm to get ‘em out on the floor. Add a pile of peroxide and pomade, a little bit of leopard on your strides and some suggestive late-night ideas from vocalist/guitarist and front man Neal X and you’ll have a pretty good idea where London’s Montecristos are coming from. Fronted by former Sigue Sigue Sputnick and Marc Almond guitarist Neal X this six piece outfit has got the show going. Plenty of 50s glitz and gonzo with the occasional nod to the swingin’ 60s (the Rascal’s “Good Lovin’”) and with Marc Almond as featured guest vocalist on Vince Taylor’s well-known classic “Brand New Cadillac”. Like “Good Lovin’” it could probably have been swapped out for one of the band’s originals or something a little more uncommon but they may very well help with getting some friendly radio play. I was very pleased to see the great rock writer Nina Antonia listed as co-writer on the title track “Born to Rock’n’Roll”. No doubts here – the Montecristos are rockin’ it. (14 tracks.)

GRAB A COPY HERE!

Web Links
themontecristos.com

Colin -Mohair Sweets- Bryce

One of Canada’s late 70’s “punk” rock crowd and from 1997 to 2007 the fellow behind Mohair Sweets print and webzine. Currently passes the time by playing the odd gig or two, shaking his head, wringing his hands and pondering whether or not the tape vaults of the legendary Pirates are really exhausted.

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June 5, 2015 By : Category : Blues Eyeplugs Front page Garage Modernist Music Picks Reviews Soul Tags:, , , , ,
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