Confidential, Sunday, August 17, 1997

Got a call at about nine p.m. a couple of Wednesdays ago from Greg, the drummer in Jack Black. He spoke some very convincing words: "We're playing tonight at the Continental -- come."

I put on my sunglasses (the moon has a hell of a glare these days) and headed downtown. As I entered the Continental, I heard their famous greeting "no re-entry, no re-entry" ringing in my ears. (This is the same line I used to give to an overzealous boyfriend a few years back, which unfortunately didn't seem to have much of an effect.)

Walked into the club in time to catch the tail end of Speed McQueen's set. (In addition to Speed and Jack Black, the bill included the Toilet Boys and Nashville Pussy.) Someone handed me a free Donnie Brasco tape when I got to the bar. I offered to pay for it with my canceled credit card but the fellow would have none of it.

Speed was great as ever and extraordinarily loud on this particular evening. Fortunately, I like my music on high decibels even if it does leave my brains scattered across the lovely cement walls of the Continental Divide on occasion.

Got into a conversation with my friend Don about his recent visit to Grandma in Florida. As Don tells it, he helped Granny plant her vegetable garden in early spring. Instead of tomato seeds, however, Don used some material of the hemp variety. Anyway, when Don re-visited Grandma, he found her a little perplexed over the behavior of a couple of bunny rabbits who had helped themselves to some of the garden's leafy greens. The little devils began doing the tango and leaping upwards to four feet in the air -- amazing what a little nutrition will do for the spirits.

Listened to Jack Black's kick-ass set of punk rock & roll. They do a great job on-stage and have some of the world's largest set lists. (These sheets run roughly the size of eye examination charts -- very legible stuff indeed.)

The Toilet Boys, featuring an ex-member or two of Blacklight Rainbow, came on next. (Lead singer Ms. Guy -- who D.J.'s on Fridays at Don Hills -- is killer on stage.) I also saw their show last week when they opened for the fabulous Jayne County at Coney Island High.

Nashville Pussy topped off the night with an excellent set of speed-punk rock & roll. The band, who appears to be on a never-ending national tour, sounded beautiful. Influences include Motorhead, AC/DC, and Alice Cooper. They played ferociously and left behind a very happy crowd in their wake, ending their set with a Ted Nugent cover.

Speaking of ending, I think it's time for me to head out. Maybe I'll go give Don's grandma a call, tell her what to do about the bunny rabbits: Just put out a plate of Doritos and play 'em some music videos, they'll settle down in an instant.

Confidential, Wednesday, June 12, 1997

Folks, it’s been brought to my attention by the ever estimable NY Rock proofreader Mrs. Pennyweather that each of my columns seems to include a mention of drinking on one level or another. I tried to explain that since I write about New York City rock clubs, it basically goes with the territory.

Now, I know that this may have been something of a lame excuse, but it was four in the afternoon at the time and I have a hard time focusing before 10 p.m. (Had it been four in the morning, I’m sure I would have come up with a zinger). Anyway, Penny’s words influenced me duly and I’m proud to say that I’ve been carrying around a container of bottled water as of late -- Poland Spring to be exact. (Put a couple of shots of Vodka in there and it ain’t half bad -- uh oh, I’m in trouble.)

Let’s get to the music, shall we ...

Caught the Turbo A.C.’s a little over a week ago at the world-famous Continental Divide. It was their last show before the trio heads over to Germany for the first leg of their European tour.

The Europeans seem to love American rockers to death for reasons unbeknown to anyone on this side of the Atlantic and I’m sure the Turbo’s will knock the wieners right out of their socks. They’re a tight outfit with plenty of good hooks and good looks.

The Waldos came on next, featuring, of course, Walter Lure on lead guitar and vocals. (For you neophytes, out there, Walter was Johnny Thunders’ sideman in the legendary Heartbreakers band.) Sipped my Poland Spring and listened to Walter and his new three-quarters-Japanese backup band rip through a classic set of Heartbreakers material. It was a great show even if just about every song centered on the topic of abusing controlled substances. (Pennyweather really needs to have a talk with these guys.)

Got into a conversation with Mark Michaels of the Bad Detectives about Johnny Thunders’ death. Mark is of the school that believes Thunders was murdered via a fatal poison that was sold to him under the pretense of being his usual coke-and-heroin cocktail. According to Mink Deville, who was in New Orleans at the time of Thunders’ death, a couple of shady characters sold Johnny a mix of speed and acid that prompted him to start climbing the walls of his hotel room. To come down, Thunders ingested his entire supply of methadone, which was enough to kill the entire population of Louisiana, let alone one aging rock icon.

I’m too young to actually have ever met Thunders but there are certain NY Rock writers, who shall go unnamed (Otto Luck) that did make his acquaintance on several occasions [see Johnny Thunders, Daddy Rollin' Stone]. Nevertheless, Johnny did leave behind a legacy of great songs and mad tales and it’s nice to see Walter keeping the flame alive ... Hey, I’m getting a bit syrupy here, aren’t I. Must be the bottled water. Better lie down for 15 minutes, try to clear my head. Anyway, till next time, this swig of H20’s for you. Bye...

Confidential, Wednesday, May 21, 1997

Was feeling a little burnt from having had only five hours sleep in the past six or seven weeks so I figured I’d revive myself with a cold brewsky and some late night TV. Channel 3 was airing a flick called The Beast Within and it looked like a winner. However, a couple of dozen bodies, six rolling heads, and a few gallons of blood later and I was out for the count on the living room couch.

So much for Friday night.

Anyway, with all that sleep (four hours straight, at least!), I was primed for "NY Trash Night" at CBGB’s the following evening. It was a beautiful night in Manhattan, the balmy spring air mixing perfectly with the exhaust fumes from the crosstown buses. I couldn’t exactly hear any birds chirping but I did see a new flock of pigeons and a couple of very happy looking rats digging through a garbage pail.

Had a brief conversation with some young geek on my way through the door. This fellow had one pant leg rolled up above the knee and the other down at his ankle. Oddly enough, he was more interested in my attire than the obvious dilemma he was having with his own. He said -- and I quote -- "Are you punk?"

I told him my mother dresses me, you’ll have to ask her.

Anyway, by the time I made it in I wound up catching only the tail end of Trash Appeal but I know them well. They play very cool trashy punk and have lots of good material.

Walked to the back and said hello to Sisters Grimm as they were getting ready to take the stage. They had Ma Grimm with them and let me tell you, mom was looking good. Simply put, I guess it runs in the family.

Ran into Adam Yellin, the NY Trash Webmaster, right before the Sisters’ set. It appeared to me that he was looking for some action so I asked if he wanted to sniff my magic marker. It was a fresh red one and I thought it was quite a generous offer. Nonetheless, he declined, much to my surprise -- I’m sure any other man in the place would have jumped at the opportunity.

Wound up in a conversation with a girl named Susan about strategically placed tulip tattoos. We agreed that if the tattoo is placed just right, it will bloom every time you have sex. The thought got me pretty aroused, suddenly, and I don’t know if it was the stimulation or the dozen-or-so beers I drank but I wound up spilling my drink all over CB’s lovely piss-covered staircase on my way to the bathroom.

I returned to hear the Sisters play a fun set of rock & roll. The girls mentioned that every band on the bill is on Trash’s Web site (hence the name "NY Trash Night"). The Sisters did a wonderful job of perking up the crowd. In fact, they inspired me to get a fresh beer and mingle some more with the locals. Chatted with Coyote Shivers and then with Kitty Kowalski (of Killer Kowalski) who has been running the bluegrass festivities on Sunday nights at Coney Island High.

It’s pretty hard to mention every group that played on Saturday since CB’s usually has five or six hundred bands on any given night but I’ll try to get most of them: I missed Stop completely (since they were first up) but they’re a great pop band that features Joey Ramone’s brother Micky Leigh. Torn & Frayed played a nice set of Creedance-tinged music; PMS delivered some good thrash-metal (although some songs needed a little more oil); and Teddy O’Boys closed the night with some well-executed punk rock.

The stand out of the night was The Independents. Managed by Joey Ramone, the band plays a high-energy blend of reggae, punk and rock & roll. Keep an eye out for them -- these boys are going places.

Speaking of going places, I think it’s time to revisit Channel 3. I’m feeling a little tense. Maybe if I watch some more homespun TV violence, I’ll be able to relax and catch another four hours sleep -- even I have to get a little beauty rest every now and then ...