Halloween is the anti-Christmas, a time that's terrific for kids, the young at heart, and anyone who still possesses a dram of imagination and nonconformity. I could offer up countless things from the archives, but I'm going to go for one of my recent-vintage favorites, already present on this blog way, way down in the posts. This year the best I do to get seasonal will be to watch a movie with a supernatural tone, but a few years back I did indeed witness a meeting of novelty-record giants: yes, the one-time-only duet of Bobby "Boris" Pickett, the man who had the Halloween anthem as a top 40 hit, with Zacherle, the once and future "Cool Ghoul" who covered it shortly thereafter. Bobby is no longer with us, but Zach is still going strong, and both gents I'm sure know/knew in some corner of their monsterly souls that the fanboy brigade out there loved 'em for the silly entertainment they've given us over the years. Mash good!
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Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Monday, October 29, 2007
Halloween finds 2: Alice Cooper!
I was scared by Alice as a kid during his heyday with the Alice Cooper group (aka the band called "Alice Cooper"), but around 1974 became a true believer after seeing him do some shtick on The American Music Awards co-hosting with Diana Ross, and doing his full "Unfinished Sweet" number on a Smothers Brothers' "comeback" summer replacement series in the mid-'70s (where I also first discovered the blessed Fr. Guido Sarduchi). I've been following the Coop in the three-decades plus since with some ups (the albums that were great, but nobody bought; the latter-day recognition as a theatrical-rock pioneer) and a few downs (the whole "metal" period in the '80s; the acknowledgement of his devout Christianity, which has seemingly removed the twin elements of danger and insanity that characterized his best musical and stage work). Alice had once mentioned when he was in the doldrums that he wouldn't mind being just "dragged out for Halloween every year" or somesuch, and so I honor his important contribution to rock, stage rock, and just generally great cinematic pop with this post. I thought I'd provide a little "walking tour" through his career, as presented on — take a guess, why dontcha — YouTube. I only had the chance to sift through the first 600 or so hits, so I never got to the second thousand, but this is a pretty good cross-section.
First, the great band known as Alice Cooper when they were signees to Frank Zappa's Bizarre label, seemingly free-form weirdo musicians, but already with an ear towards the pop perfection that Bob Ezrin brought out of them for good in 1971:
Click here if the above doesn't work.
The Cooper group doing a raw version of "Is It My Body?"
Click here if the above doesn't work.
An extremely rare old-style video-camera recording of the group at a club, which has been identified as both the Stone Pony in NJ or a club somewhere in Detroit. When I scored a copy of this a few years back it was the Holiest of the Holies, now it's available fer free on YouTube. Here the band covers the awesomely upbeat "Sun Arise" (co-written by the terrific Rolf Harris, the man who gave us "Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport"--huzzah):
Click here if the above doesn't work.
The single best introduction to the wild AC stage show of the early '70s is the concert movie Good to See You Again, Alice Cooper, which is weirdly available in two versions on the bootleg market: one in which the band does cheesy comedy skits that try to approximate Mel Brooks' Blazing Saddles, and another in which the incredible concert sequences are intercut with old movie clips. This is the trailer:
Click here if the above doesn't work.
The Alice Cooper Group only made two or three "publicity films" (what we now know to be the precursors to music videos). This is the best, just because it's the least disciplined, and shows Alice on the streets of NYC, "Elected.":
Click here if the above doesn't work.
A number of Cooper group fans feel that when Alice went "Vegas" (or "Hollywood," depending on how you care to look at it) with his LP and stage show Welcome to My Nightmare, the journey was effectively all over. That's actually the time when younger fans like me came in, so I watch items like his TV special "The Nightmare" with a major fascination. The great filmmaker Alan Rudolph collaborated on the special, and I believe it's still available only on old VHS tapes:
Click here if the above doesn't work.
During his Hollywood period, Alice chummed up to Groucho and Mae West, and was often seen hangin' with the likes of Benny and Burns. You can find Alice's song from Sextette on YouTube, but I thought I'd link instead to his appearance on the comeback series of one of our Funhouse favorites, Soupy!
Click here if the above doesn't work.
Alice went New Wave at the turn of the '80s. The period (actually, only two albums) is written off by most folks, but I love those records. Here's his appearance on the suitably scary PInk Lady and Jeff with his biggest New Wave hit "Clones" (later covered by Smashing Pumpkins), which is his humble tribute to the Prisoner TV series (listen to the lyrics).
Click here if the above doesn't work.
Alice looks insanely unhealthy in the preceding clip (listen for a description of how his look makes him the "original punk" in Rudolph's movie Roadie), but here is him at his stangest-looking, an appearance on Tom Snyder's Tomorrow show. This was from his "leather geisha"/Special Forces days. A very fucked-up look, to say the least:
Click here if the above doesn't work.
He looks exceedingly thin and scary here, but is still in New Wave (and geisha) mode, in a special from French TV, doing his ACG classic "Generation Landslide." One of his finest youth-rebellion anthems. The second clip is him interviewing himself in pigeon French, and doing his finest kick-ass '80s tune, "Who Do You Think We Are":
Click here if the above doesn't work.
Click here if the above doesn't work.
Two more items that I never knew existed, revelations of YouTube. Alice's strangest incarnation may have been the leather geisha, but he had earlier done a neat turn away from his skullface-makeup image (or is it a dead Pierrot/Harlequin?) with a hardboiled private-eye persona that only lasted for one album ("Lace and Whiskey") that simply reeks of the '70s in some wonderful ways (ah yes, top 40 radio!). There was a big ballad that even was sung by Sinatra, but I have to give the nod to this astoundingly dopey publicity film made for his sorta-disco sounding (it's actually close to the "Philadelphia soul"/orchestral pre-disco sound) "No More Love (at Your Convenience)." Dig the Bogart, Lorre, and Cagney posters, and those crazy, fucked-up, long-ago '70s! (book me a flight on the rocketship)
Click here if the above doesn't work.
And, just because this is Halloween, we need to close off on some classic Coop doing a seasonally-themed beauty, "I Love the Dead" (with full guillotine shtick):
Click here if the above doesn't work.
First, the great band known as Alice Cooper when they were signees to Frank Zappa's Bizarre label, seemingly free-form weirdo musicians, but already with an ear towards the pop perfection that Bob Ezrin brought out of them for good in 1971:
Click here if the above doesn't work.
The Cooper group doing a raw version of "Is It My Body?"
Click here if the above doesn't work.
An extremely rare old-style video-camera recording of the group at a club, which has been identified as both the Stone Pony in NJ or a club somewhere in Detroit. When I scored a copy of this a few years back it was the Holiest of the Holies, now it's available fer free on YouTube. Here the band covers the awesomely upbeat "Sun Arise" (co-written by the terrific Rolf Harris, the man who gave us "Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport"--huzzah):
Click here if the above doesn't work.
The single best introduction to the wild AC stage show of the early '70s is the concert movie Good to See You Again, Alice Cooper, which is weirdly available in two versions on the bootleg market: one in which the band does cheesy comedy skits that try to approximate Mel Brooks' Blazing Saddles, and another in which the incredible concert sequences are intercut with old movie clips. This is the trailer:
Click here if the above doesn't work.
The Alice Cooper Group only made two or three "publicity films" (what we now know to be the precursors to music videos). This is the best, just because it's the least disciplined, and shows Alice on the streets of NYC, "Elected.":
Click here if the above doesn't work.
A number of Cooper group fans feel that when Alice went "Vegas" (or "Hollywood," depending on how you care to look at it) with his LP and stage show Welcome to My Nightmare, the journey was effectively all over. That's actually the time when younger fans like me came in, so I watch items like his TV special "The Nightmare" with a major fascination. The great filmmaker Alan Rudolph collaborated on the special, and I believe it's still available only on old VHS tapes:
Click here if the above doesn't work.
During his Hollywood period, Alice chummed up to Groucho and Mae West, and was often seen hangin' with the likes of Benny and Burns. You can find Alice's song from Sextette on YouTube, but I thought I'd link instead to his appearance on the comeback series of one of our Funhouse favorites, Soupy!
Click here if the above doesn't work.
Alice went New Wave at the turn of the '80s. The period (actually, only two albums) is written off by most folks, but I love those records. Here's his appearance on the suitably scary PInk Lady and Jeff with his biggest New Wave hit "Clones" (later covered by Smashing Pumpkins), which is his humble tribute to the Prisoner TV series (listen to the lyrics).
Click here if the above doesn't work.
Alice looks insanely unhealthy in the preceding clip (listen for a description of how his look makes him the "original punk" in Rudolph's movie Roadie), but here is him at his stangest-looking, an appearance on Tom Snyder's Tomorrow show. This was from his "leather geisha"/Special Forces days. A very fucked-up look, to say the least:
Click here if the above doesn't work.
He looks exceedingly thin and scary here, but is still in New Wave (and geisha) mode, in a special from French TV, doing his ACG classic "Generation Landslide." One of his finest youth-rebellion anthems. The second clip is him interviewing himself in pigeon French, and doing his finest kick-ass '80s tune, "Who Do You Think We Are":
Click here if the above doesn't work.
Click here if the above doesn't work.
Two more items that I never knew existed, revelations of YouTube. Alice's strangest incarnation may have been the leather geisha, but he had earlier done a neat turn away from his skullface-makeup image (or is it a dead Pierrot/Harlequin?) with a hardboiled private-eye persona that only lasted for one album ("Lace and Whiskey") that simply reeks of the '70s in some wonderful ways (ah yes, top 40 radio!). There was a big ballad that even was sung by Sinatra, but I have to give the nod to this astoundingly dopey publicity film made for his sorta-disco sounding (it's actually close to the "Philadelphia soul"/orchestral pre-disco sound) "No More Love (at Your Convenience)." Dig the Bogart, Lorre, and Cagney posters, and those crazy, fucked-up, long-ago '70s! (book me a flight on the rocketship)
Click here if the above doesn't work.
And, just because this is Halloween, we need to close off on some classic Coop doing a seasonally-themed beauty, "I Love the Dead" (with full guillotine shtick):
Click here if the above doesn't work.
Friday, October 26, 2007
The conclusion of Breathless: translating the untranslatable
In conjunction with my review of the terrific Criterion Collection release of Godard's classic Breathless on this week’s show, I offer this montage of three different English translations of the famous last lines of the film. The French dégueulasse is an untranslatable word that can be taken several ways. It can be “repulsive,” “shitty,” “[that] stinks,” “nauseating,” “sickening,” and the three choices provided below. The most accurate translation would seemingly be the simple ol’ English word “disgusting.”
Thus, we have the standard, original translation, which unfortunately has Belmondo cursing out poor Jean Seberg — it’s not at all clear what he’s saying, but most Godardians go with c’est dégueulasse (this is disgusting/this stinks). The use of “bitch,” thought not strictly correct, does make for a very good American-English equivalent of the word-play going on here. The second version is the worst translation of all time, a nice shot of NYPD Blue–era 1990s America: the immortal “scumbag.” The last is the newest translation which gets super-literal on us: the word dégueulasse comes from the French verb that means to nauseate someone, to make them puke, thus we have Jean Seberg now asking what “puke” means. Ah, the joys of translation….
Click here if the above doesn't work.
Thus, we have the standard, original translation, which unfortunately has Belmondo cursing out poor Jean Seberg — it’s not at all clear what he’s saying, but most Godardians go with c’est dégueulasse (this is disgusting/this stinks). The use of “bitch,” thought not strictly correct, does make for a very good American-English equivalent of the word-play going on here. The second version is the worst translation of all time, a nice shot of NYPD Blue–era 1990s America: the immortal “scumbag.” The last is the newest translation which gets super-literal on us: the word dégueulasse comes from the French verb that means to nauseate someone, to make them puke, thus we have Jean Seberg now asking what “puke” means. Ah, the joys of translation….
Click here if the above doesn't work.
Friday, October 19, 2007
"Son of a gun!": Death of "the Bish"
So we come to the end of the Rat Pack on this mortal coil. The last remaining member of the “Summit at the Sands” grouping has kicked off, and while that does leave Henry Silva as the last “Rat Pack satellite” survivor, the core group is now gone for good. Of course, Bishop was a relatively minor figure in the mythology, a comedian who was never indispensible, but did supply lines for his pallies — he reported that he had come up with Dean picking up Sammy and saying, “I’d like to thank the NAACP for this award….” (a gag that Jerry stole for the outtake reel of Smorgasbord, aka Cracking Up) He did have a pretty good run on TV for a Borscht Belt-type comic: a hit sitcom for a few years, a challenge-to-Johnny late-night talk show that toppled after a short run, but then he was allowed back on the The Tonight Show as a guest-host, which was extremely rare. He also continued to appear on game shows, variety shows, and talk shows throughout the '70s and part of the '80s (until all those outlets started to go off the air).
Bishop was cantankerous in his later years. A friend of mine, Jay Hopkins, attempted to interview him at various points by phone, and the old gent would talk rather amiably for minutes at a time, then suddenly wonder what he was doing on the phone answering questions, get sarcastic, and then hang up. The last TV appearance I saw was a tribute to Johnny on Larry King where Bishop kept trying to talk over the other guests — which was an impossibility, given that he was on one of those awfully stilted delay satellite feeds. He had wild hair at that point, and came across as a rambunctious old know-it-all: imagine Leonard Bernstein with an attitude and not much true knowledge. He had dubbed himself “a mouse in the Rat Pack,” and never did write the tell-all autobio that probably could’ve attracted him some latter-day attention. He essentially was a very lucky guy to hook up with Frank, Dean, and Sammy, and he knew it.
My tribute to him are three uploads I personally placed on the old ‘Tube:
First, he and his sidekick Regis Philbin on a 1968 episode of his late night talk show, chatting about their new Nehru jackets.
Click here if the above doesn't work.
Then a bit with the man who encouraged them to get said jackets, Sam the Man! Here Sam kids Joey and Reege, and also shows a roach clip on network television, without using that term (and pretending that it’s for tobacco cigarettes….).
Click here if the above doesn't work.
And last, the piece de resistance, Joey in full suck-up mode, on Johnny Carson’s 10th Anniversary on Tonight. I don’t know why this historic episode hasn’t been made available by the folks who hold the rights. It’s an historic show that obviously has survived the ages, if dubs of it have been offered through various “fan circuits.” Joey jokes about being put on “alphabetically” and it’s true — he comes after Jack Benny, and before George Burns. The show’s other guests were Don Rickles (he’s out of alphabetical order), Jerry Lewis, Rowan and Martin, and Dinah Shore (the latter two acts are cut off of the tape that circulates on the “underground,” most likely a copy of a ¾-inch tape of the first two-thirds of the show. For those who don’t know, ¾-inch tapes ran one hour exactly, and were distributed to the press for important TV specials that were taped ahead of time).
Click here if the above doesn't work.
Some YouTube finds I didn't uplaod:
Wobbly versions of other clips from the sublime Bishop Show episode, including a terrific "tap challenge" between Sammy, Sammy's dad, and Joey's brother Moishe, can be found here:
Tap-dance challenge, part one
Tap-dance challenge, part two
Joey's birthday! with b-day cake food fight
A classic little bit of shilling for Hai Karate by Joey and Regis:
Click here if the above doesn't work.
An ad for Joey's stint replacing Mickey Rooney in the Broadway show Sugar Babies:
Click here if the above doesn't work.
Bishop was cantankerous in his later years. A friend of mine, Jay Hopkins, attempted to interview him at various points by phone, and the old gent would talk rather amiably for minutes at a time, then suddenly wonder what he was doing on the phone answering questions, get sarcastic, and then hang up. The last TV appearance I saw was a tribute to Johnny on Larry King where Bishop kept trying to talk over the other guests — which was an impossibility, given that he was on one of those awfully stilted delay satellite feeds. He had wild hair at that point, and came across as a rambunctious old know-it-all: imagine Leonard Bernstein with an attitude and not much true knowledge. He had dubbed himself “a mouse in the Rat Pack,” and never did write the tell-all autobio that probably could’ve attracted him some latter-day attention. He essentially was a very lucky guy to hook up with Frank, Dean, and Sammy, and he knew it.
My tribute to him are three uploads I personally placed on the old ‘Tube:
First, he and his sidekick Regis Philbin on a 1968 episode of his late night talk show, chatting about their new Nehru jackets.
Click here if the above doesn't work.
Then a bit with the man who encouraged them to get said jackets, Sam the Man! Here Sam kids Joey and Reege, and also shows a roach clip on network television, without using that term (and pretending that it’s for tobacco cigarettes….).
Click here if the above doesn't work.
And last, the piece de resistance, Joey in full suck-up mode, on Johnny Carson’s 10th Anniversary on Tonight. I don’t know why this historic episode hasn’t been made available by the folks who hold the rights. It’s an historic show that obviously has survived the ages, if dubs of it have been offered through various “fan circuits.” Joey jokes about being put on “alphabetically” and it’s true — he comes after Jack Benny, and before George Burns. The show’s other guests were Don Rickles (he’s out of alphabetical order), Jerry Lewis, Rowan and Martin, and Dinah Shore (the latter two acts are cut off of the tape that circulates on the “underground,” most likely a copy of a ¾-inch tape of the first two-thirds of the show. For those who don’t know, ¾-inch tapes ran one hour exactly, and were distributed to the press for important TV specials that were taped ahead of time).
Click here if the above doesn't work.
Some YouTube finds I didn't uplaod:
Wobbly versions of other clips from the sublime Bishop Show episode, including a terrific "tap challenge" between Sammy, Sammy's dad, and Joey's brother Moishe, can be found here:
Tap-dance challenge, part one
Tap-dance challenge, part two
Joey's birthday! with b-day cake food fight
A classic little bit of shilling for Hai Karate by Joey and Regis:
Click here if the above doesn't work.
An ad for Joey's stint replacing Mickey Rooney in the Broadway show Sugar Babies:
Click here if the above doesn't work.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Jerry Schatzberg on his photography
A segment from my last episode, concluding my interview with legendary photographer-filmmaker Jerry Schatzberg. Here he talks about his work with '60s rock icons Dylan, Nico, the Mothers, and the Stones. Schatzberg's site is definitely worth checking out for samples of his work in all genres:
www.jerryschatzberg.com
Click here if the above doesn't work.
www.jerryschatzberg.com
Click here if the above doesn't work.
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