“The big difference between us and punk groups is that we like KC and the Sunshine Band. You ask Johnny Rotten if he likes KC and the Sunshine Band and he’ll blow snot in you face.
—Chris Frantz
As I mentioned in a recent post about the excellent new Talking Heads: Chronology
Play this one LOUD, it’ll knock you sideways. Just imagine what a Blu-ray DVD release of this with a 5.1 soundtrack would be like? I’d take this over Stop Making Sense
DJ Steve Lamacq premiered the new PIL song earlier today on BBC 6.
Our John may have lost his upper register, but it is nice to hear him strain at it in such a raw way over the type of back-to-basics reggae-rock bed that’s screaming for a remix/dub-out…
According to the alt-‘80s blog Slicing Up Eyeballs:
The song will be released on a vinyl EP as part of Record Store Day on April 21 in advance of the release of the full-length This Is PiL in May or June.
Enjoy…
Previously on Dangerous Minds:
PiL : Design
Public Image Ltd: The infamous riot at the Ritz gig
Prince “Lovesexy” by Norn Cutson
After ten years in the (print) game, the hip-hop/soul/funk magazine Wax Poetics has reached its 50th issue, and to celebrate they have commissioned an exclusive mix from LA’s King of the Boogie, Dam Funk. In keeping with the issue’s theme, the mix is all about, as the magazine itself says: “one of the most iconic musicians in the history of African American music, the one and only Prince.”
A Prince-themed mix by Dam Funk? That’s two of the most brilliantly funky acts of modern times coming together. Dam stays away from the obvious hits, to focus instead on album tracks, live recordings and re-edits, and even adds his own exclusive cover version of the song “17 Days”. It’s great and a must for all Prince fans, even the most obsessed who think they’ve heard it all. You may know some of these tracks, but you won’t have heard them quite like this…
Wax Poetics’ 50th issue is also dedicated to the purple sex pixie (truly one of the most outstanding artists in the history of popular music, no?) and features interviews with, and wrtiting on; Larry Graham, Morris Day, Questlove, The Family, Frank Ocean and much more. You can buy the magazine, which is being printed on high quality paper and is designed not to be disposed of, directly from the Wax Poetics website. In the meantime, you can check out Dam Funk’s Prince mix right here:
1. Prince & the Revolution – 17 Days (original version)
2. DāM-FunK – 17 Days (D-F Re-Freak)
3. Prince – Irresistible Bitch (Props Re-Edit)
4. Prince (featuring Andre Cymone & Pepe Willie) – One Man Jam
5. Prince – Wet Dream Cousin
6. Prince – Dirty Mind (1981 Live Version)
7. Prince – Soft & Wet (original version)
8. Prince – Ballad Of Dorothy Parker (D-F Extended Re-Edit)
9. Prince – Sticky Like Glue (Props Re-Edit)
10. Prince & the Revolution – All My Dreams
Previously on Dangerous Minds:
Download Dam Funk’s new EP for free
Dam Funk: King Of The Boogie
Japanese artist Takanori Aiba built this unbelievably intricate mini-castle in and around a potted Bonsai tree using stone clay, epoxy putty, copper line, plastic, and resin. I can’t get over the amount of time and effort this must have taken.
Via Daily What and My Modern Met
Although Judge Andrew Napolitano is most assuredly not my cup of tea, on certain matters (civil liberties) I can find common ground with his Libertarian beliefs. Still, I have to say, this epic rant—minus his conclusion that Ron Paul is the answer—took a lot of balls for him to say on the fucking Fox Business channel! Holy shit! A little too close for comfort, eh Rupert?
If this goes viral in a big way (it’s already charging up the reddit hit list ) this could prove to cause some amusing ripples within the Republican party. It’s quite a strong message, I think you’ll agree!
Judge Napolitano’s final show will be tonight at 8pm. I wonder how he will top this puppy? Count me in!
The Onion strikes comedy gold with “Meet the Man Inside the Nicolas Cage Costume.”
If SNL could come up with with shit like this even once a week, I might actually to tempted to watch it again after… uh… decades.
Via Nerdcore
The deaths of celebrities have become predictably ghoulish spectacles, not only in the media (which is to be expected) but also in the misplaced “grief” and “deep love” that the public feels anew for the freshly deceased, as can be tallied up in the number of frantic Facebook wall and Twitter over-posting “tributes” that happen whenever someone famous dies. There’s a whole “firstism” tackiness to it all that makes me feel uncomfortable. And it’s so ritualized and dumbly Pavolian. I just don’t get it.
But something else I don’t get is how the occasion of Whitney Houston’s passing became such an excuse/empowerment for the worst racist trolling that I’ve seen in some time on the Fox News website, much that mentions President Obama, of course.
The Fox News website is always a hotbed of feverish racism and low IQ buffoonery, but usually they can’t be bothered to scrub their forums of it (there would be little else left) and so stuff like this tends to linger for a while. In this instance though, several hundred of the most egregious comments have already removed due to a public shaming by lefty websites. Comments that often had numerous “likes,” I should add.
Little Green Footballs cataloged some of them before they were deleted. Note how good the Fox New-watching trolls are at misspelling certain words so the filters won’t catch them (Actually they seem pretty good at misspelling almost anything, what am I saying?).
Hold your nose and take an “anthropological” look at what conservatives say to each other when they think no one else is paying attention [TO BE CLEAR: I removed spaces between the comments so this post wasn’t a mile long, but each paragraph here was from a different poster, this is not one long rant, as it might appear to be]:
A tragedy is when someones passes away from a terminal disease or something else that no one saw coming.Whitney is just an inferior lo w life ni gg er that needed to go,no tragedy,no loss.
Any death is a tragedy you heartless bástard.
not nignogs their death is a plus
SHe couldn’t even sell issues of “the national enquirer” anymore. Everyone was tired of the TNB. Niqqer flaps her lips and screeches, niqqer becomes rich. Niqqer ends up nearly broke after spending all of her money. Niqqer in constant fights and drug binges. Niqqer ODs when she learns she’s nearly broke and she is so wasted physically she can’t make another album. Niqqer hit the end of the road, niqqer thinking and niqqer behavior led her to where she had nothing. She couldn’t face life without the “bling bling”, she knew she would never have any more “kaching kaching”
[...]
I am now patiently waiting for the grand messiah Obama to have a blk fundraiser in honor of Whitley with Kevin Costner as guest of honor with all the Hollywood elites invited along with Alan Colmes, Al Sharpton, Jeremia Wright, Charles Rangel, etc. with a menu featuring blk eyed peas, grits, Imported Kobe steak, Dom Perignon, sweet potato pie and a mus lll im scarf as a momento of this great occasion.
Of course the door prize will be an all expense paid trip to Kenya to visit the Obama tribe and birthplace of his ancestors while the American people still look for this imposter’s birth certificate in Hawaii !!!
[...]
This is typical of the blk gene pool; it happens all the time. They cannot handle fame and fortune whether it’s derived from music, acting, sports or just plain entertainment. Too much fame and too much money at one time will ki ll ll you.
How many blk people have died from drugs including alcohol that have been in the sports and the entertainment industry or screwed up their married lives like Tiger Woods or worse, OJ Simpson !!!
This is the same disease that got Obama voted into the White House.
[...]
i don’t even consider them to be included in the human race let alone on a pedistal. the people that do are a bunch of loosers.
Story goes Obama sh0ved to much cr@ck up the wh0res @zz when he was going to sniiff it…
Obvious the use of to much hair strengthener did her in.That s__t will peel paint!
unfortunately like most nignog crack hoes she was able to apply her trade on “da streets”
Another nignog off the public social rolls
BIack females are the fattest segment of the population. BIack males are the most murderousss segment of the population. Africans have the lowest IQ of all people.
Like most of her species, she suffered from chronic stupidity.
tough break niqqer.
Nothing wrong with Coors, what is good about it most_n i g g e r s_ don’t like it
oh niqqa please,nigga please.
one of the only b l a c k chics i would have ever banged…..once you go c r ack er…..you dont do cr a c k
Woo Hoo One less obama voter
Whitney who?!? some /\/iggress music artist that had a couple of hits in the early 90’s. She’s since been forgotten and now she’s dead.. Who cares..
Africans love their drugs.
Jungle Buggie ??
This is a good lesson for all of you God loving Christian girls out there, stay away from “Jungle Love.”
One less bIack crack addict in the world today. Not such a big loss.
We Whiteys dont care about some monkey crackhead, change the headline!
How funny would it be if they fuckedup the tombstone. WHITEY HOUSTON
Their are B L A C K S and their are N i G G A S, which class do you put her mentor Bobby Brown into??? Whitney chose ???
Who cares? Black_trash gone is enough.
She is just like any other gh e tto queen.I hope the rest of these worthless piles in the inner cities follow her act .
What a waste of a good slit.
HER REAL NAME SHOULD BE KUNTA KINTI OR MOGUBA MAGABA, WHY AFRO-AMERICANS ARE USING ENGLISH NAMES AND LAST NAMES?….SHAME ON THEM!!
You know what you call Whitney Houston in a bathtub? A dead n i g g a h
Another buckwheat supporter bites the dust, oh well.
hatesandniqqers 3 hours ago
phuk you w hore,,,,,,,,,
Buckwheat is ne gro trash!
Bammy should not have given her crack from his personal stash!
B l a c k s have little to brag about about so they strut and crow about anything. The politically correct whites whine and cringe and try to be b l a c k themselves and identify with their “brothers”. Great singer but as stupid as her pal, the malignancy in the white house
she still be voting for the head niggg this nov
To bad it wasnt the monkey in the White House
If you’ve been thinking for some time that we’re living in an Idiocracy, these comments from the Fox News website will do nothing but strongly confirm that notion…
UPDATE: Fox News yanked ALL of the comments in that thread.
Conservatism Thrives on Low Intelligence and Poor Information (AlterNet)
When the Daily Mail calls rightwingers stupid, the result is dumbogeddon (The Guardian)
Jewelry designer, Josephine Ryan, is making these delicate, silver Darwin Fish necklaces. I like it.
If you’re interested in one, hit her up on Facebook. It looks like she’s taking orders there.
Via reddit
I guess a lot of today’s Twittering youngins’ had no idea who this old Paul McCartney guy was performing at the 2012 Grammys last night.
I wonder if any of these people would recognize Don Henley? Robert Plant? Peter Gabriel? Roger Waters? Probably not, I mean, not knowing who Paul McCartney is, is truly shameful (no matter what you think of his music after, say 1976). Would these folks know Elton John if he was standing in front of them? Mick Jagger if he head-butted them?
Where is the line drawn with someone who can’t identify one of the Beatles???
They would be able to ID Gene Simmons, though. That’s fucked up!
See more of the “Oh gawd do I feel old/Christ they’re bloody ignorant” tweets at BuzzFeed.
I’m drawn to The Grammy Awards much in the same way that I find myself rubbernecking at a multi-car pile up on the freeway or dropping a crisp dollar bill to see the two-headed cow at a carnival sideshow. This year’s production wasn’t much different than the usual pop star circle jerk. The Boss opened the festivities with his usual blue collar bombast (which I did find rousing) followed by….well, I can’t really remember. Disembodied heads float through my brain like balloons at a birthday party - I think that one is Brian Wilson…oh look, Paul McCartney…isn’t that a Foo Fighter…George Jones?...no, Glen Campbell. For a moment, I thought I saw James Brown but according to later reports it was Bruno Mars channeling the lost Hawaiian member of Sha Na Na.
Alright, I’m fucking around here. No one expects much of the Grammys and it always pretty much lives up to our diminished expectations even in a year when the ghost of Whitney Houston hovered above the ceremony, stuck in some kind of twisted Bardo Plane, a malignant magnetic field that humans create to entrap the vestiges of the ones they love, as if the dead are paying attention to any of it. If Whitney managed to make it to heaven she had to bypass the purgatory of media hype. Among the dead, this is known as tabloid turbulence. As I’m not a fan of the long wail that follows a pop stars death, that doesn’t mean I didn’t appreciate Houston’s talents. But I save my hue and cry and gnashing of teeth for Syria, Libya, Greece and the radiated folks who lived near the Fukishima power plant. You know what I mean? Or maybe you don’t. Go ahead tell me that I’ve somehow disrespected Whitney in our national hour of mourning. Fine. I can dig it.
So where is all this leading? Well, it leads to the performance that managed to transform the banalities of award ceremonies into something so awesomely tacky, cheesy and sublime that it makes Madonna’s appearance at the Super Bowl look like a classy outtake from Cecil B. DeMille’s Cleopatra. I’m talking about Nicki Minaj’s delirious take on her hit “Roman Holiday,” a spectacle so staggeringly unhinged that I thought I had taken some Ambien and wandered into a theater where a triple bill of Showgirls, Flaming Creatures and The Exorcist were playing simultaneously while a popcorn machine was ejaculating giant buttered nuggets into my lap causing my scrotum to pulsate like a vibrating bed in a sleazy motel somewhere on Route 666. And I loved it!
Dave Grohl may have worn a Slayer t-shirt but it was Minaj that brought the dark stuff to the Grammys.
An extremely charming interview with a then 17-year-old Tupac Shakur on the topic of “being nice to women.”
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen female friends of mine break a guy’s heart because he was “too nice.” It’s true!
Via KMFW
Cool film footage of Greenwich Village in the Sixties.
The Village has always been a vortex for cultural energy and you can see it in these images. Soulful young longhairs, wide-eyed teenyboppers and angel-headed hipsters cruising the streets looking for something, not sure what it is, but knowing there was something magic in the air and if you walked along MacDougal or Bleecker street long enough you’d connect with it.
Music: “Summer In New York” by The Imaginations.
As the airwaves become flooded with the deafening clamor of mindless chatter revolving around the death of Whitney Houston, I hope the voice of the woman herself isn’t drowned out.
This clip from the TV series Silver Spoons features 22-year-old Houston singing her first top ten hit “Saving All My Love For You” and it’s gorgeous.
It was my birthday, I was to have a party, but what the hell do I know about throwing parties? You go to a party, You get drunk at a party, You take drugs, get buzzed then wasted at a party. You listen to music and meet interesting people with whom you have mediocre, consensual sex at a party. No, you never, ever throw a party.
“Think of the mess,” You tell yourself. “You don’t clean-up, that’s not You, that’s what friends and neighbors are for. You are a born guest.” But I still had to throw a party.
So, I looked for tips, asked around, shoe-shines, bar flies, and shadowy figures who smoked cigarettes in car parks. Then I googled it, and lo, there it was What Makes a Good Party?. I thought, I know this - alcohol, drugs, sex? No, I was wrong. What makes a good party is charades, conversation, dancing and a big smiley sing-song around a piano. Now you know. So, don’t flick ash on the carpet, use the coaster for your drinks, and brace yourself for small-talk. You still want to come to my party? No? It’ll be fun. We can do Twister.
Today is Gene Vincent’s birthday. And while the film I’m sharing to commemorate this date is hardly an uplifter, it is a touching testament to Gene Vincent’s devotion to his art and fans.
In 1957 Gene Vincent’s Be-Bop-A-Lula had sold two million copies and he was an International star. But his meteoric rise was followed by tragedy and tough times in the 1960s. While he continued to record and tour with some success, particularly in England, by the mid-60s his music career was as battered as his body.
Gene Vincent: The Rock And Roll Singer documents Vincent’s British tour of 1969. Working with a pickup band and playing dingy clubs and small halls at “the rough end of the music biz,” the film follows Vincent and his loyal crew as they struggle to make enough money to get from gig to gig. There’s a sad beauty in the whole mess.
In addition to the financial problems of the tour, Vincent was suffering debilitating pain from a 1955 motorcycle accident and the taxi cab collision that killed his fellow passenger and friend Eddie Cochran in 1960. As we watch Vincent perform in front of his adoring fans, you can practically feel his exhaustion and see the hurt behind his determined smile.
Less than two years after this documentary was filmed, Vincent was dead of a burst ulcer. He was only 36 years old.
Sweet Gene Vincent.
A trippy alchemical potion of a movie, Space Is The Place inhabits an alternative reality that could only exist in the Afrodelic cosmology of Saturnian jazz priest Sun Ra.
Directed by John Coney in 1974, the movie is a hybrid of B-grade sci-fi, Blaxploitation flix (on shrooms), the films of Kenneth Anger and surrealist head trips like El Topo and the electric western Zachariah.
In the film, as in life, Sun Ra is the quintessential outsider and space is a metaphorical Eden for this much put upon black man. The plot is threadbare, involving villainous pimps and dealers, Black Panther avenger protagonists, local nightclubs, pool halls, cat houses, and, of course, an Outer Space Employment Agency that Sun Ra sets up after coming to Earth from a faraway planet. To recruit a new colony, he espouses racial freedom through Egyptian epigrams, Stockhausen-like jazz and a spirit filled Rocket Ship. Of course, Ra is challenged by establishment agents and a supreme villain, the Overseer (Ray Johnson), who lures impressionable black men away from Ra’s brand of truth with the vices of sex and money. Ra preaches against decadence and hits a nerve when showing the pimp and his followers that they are no different than the White Man (Nixon, here) they rage against. Ra promises a land of racial harmony and social justice lies within the Milky Way’s stars, and who are we to argue?” - Alfred Eaker
The cinematic equivalent of one of Sun Ra’s free jazz improvs, Space Is The Place is all over the cosmic map so it helps to find that Zen spot where you just lock into the frequency and go with the flow. As Sun Ray instructs, get in tune with the universe.
“The people have no music that is in coordination with their spirits. Because of this, they’re out of tune with the universe. Since they don’t have money, they don’t have anything. If the planet takes hold of an alter destiny, there’s hope for all of us. But otherwise the death sentence upon this planet still stands. Everyone must die.” - Sun Ra
Set your controls for the heart of the Sun Ra.
After you watch Andrew Breitbart absolutely lose his goddamn shit, screaming his head off at Occupy protesters raising some hell at CPAC (telling them to “behave” and “stop raping people”) you will no longer wonder if he’s sane or not, because the answer is in his eyes. His crazy fucking eyes.
Can you imagine how he acts at home, in private?!?!? Yikes!
Some would say that Sir Jimmy Savile always had a whiff of the unsavory about him. Before his death in 2011, there were plenty of rumors doing the rounds of the olde jingle-jangle jewelry master’s sexual peccadilloes, of which the most vicious was the allegation our sainted Jim enjoyed sexual congress with corpses at a local hospital. I first heard that story when I was at school in the 1970s, so you can imagine how ingrained these rumors became over the years.
Another, was Sir Jimmy’s alleged sexual shenanigans at various hospital locations throughout the U.K., the only consistent here was that the location changed and the depravity deepened with every re-telling.
What was never clear was why if these rumors had even a soupcon of fact they were never investigated by some tabloid journalist or ambitious Lestarde, who planned to put the cuffs on Sir Jim. Which is what one would expect, considering such high profile involving Gary Glitter, Jonathan King and even The Who’s Pete Townshend, over his dubious internet activity.
Which is why this week, I was surprised to hear that an unlikely source had come forward with allegations that Sir Jimmy had sex with under age girls during the 1970s. The source was the over sixties magazine, The Oldie, edited by former Private Eye chief Richard Ingrams.
The Oldie is usually filled with the chattering of baby boomers sharing tips on pensions, retirement plans, holidays, reports of memorial services and memories of the 1940s to 1960s when everything was hunky-dory with the world. It is not the kind of publication one would expect to find serious child sex allegations about popular TV celebrities. However, this week, Miles Goslett has done just that in his article, “Savile row”.
Goslett investigates why the BBC allegedly dropped a news report (for their current affairs show Newsnight), “investigating allegations of sexual abuse made against its long-serving employee Jimmy Savile?” Goslett explains that before Christmas the BBC broadcast two tribute programmes (one on TV, one on radio) that celebrated Savile’s life and career.
...No mention was made of the unsavoury rumours about Savile’s private life which had persisted throughout his career.
Before the BBC’s tributes were aired, however, journalists on the BBC2 programme Newsnight had been investigating the datk side of the apparently saintly entertainer. Their enquiries centred around Savile’s regular visits during the 1970s to Duncroft, an approved local authority school for emotional disturbed girls aged between 13 and 18 in Staines, Surrey, which closed in 1980. It emerged that in 2007 Surrey Police and the Crown Prosecution Service had investigated a historic complaint that Savile had abused girls at the school but no action had been take.
Newsnight tracked down several ex-Duncroft pupils, now middle-aged women, who confirmed that Savile had molested them when they were aged 14 or 15. At least one woman gave an on-camera, on-the-record interview to Newsnight about the abuse she had suffered.
As Goslett goes on to say, this was a coup by any standard. However, prior to the story being broadcast the story was dropped.
More on the allegations against Savile, after the jump…
An all-out, 15-minute-long aural assault by Can on Ege Bamyasi’s “Spoon,” here turned into an epic jam ala “Sister Ray” during the Can Free Concert at the Cologne Sporthalle on February 3, 1972 (Available on DVD
Fun fact: “Spoon” was the theme tune to a popular German crime drama titled Das Messer (“The Knife”).
Frank Zappa makes a 1978 appearance on Make Me Laugh, an awful looking game show hosted by Bobby Van. Zappa nearly wordlessly promotes his then new Sheik Yerbouti
You can clearly tell that he hated every second of this.