BRAZEN, BOBBY & CESAR: FROM SODA POPS TO LOS JARRITOS

It's time once again to tell you all about what's been going on in my world in the here and now, because Brazen has a new musical thing going and I think it's about time to tell you the amazing story behind it, and also to pay tribute to the man who started the ball rolling on it, then tragically left this world before I could finally make it happen.

Perhaps the story begins one fateful day in Orlando in late 2017, when a wonderful and eccentric young guitarist and songwriter named Bobby Clock was just taking a leisurely evening walk 'round his 'hood after work one day. Suddenly, he heard some very live drumming blasting out of someone's garage. Naturally, the musician in him just had to investigate, so Bobby hopped the fence in front of the house and almost scared the drummer walking in. He was from Mexico, his name was Cesar Marquez, and he had been living in O-Town for about a decade but hadn't played in any bands since he'd left Veracruz -- in fact, he was just starting to get back into playing drums. Bobby told Cesar he was looking to get his band going again and invited him to audition. In the process he found a very unique migrant with a mind of his own and a taste for musical adventure no one would have suspected. 

 Or maybe the story begins a few months earlier than that, when yours truly was invited to share a bill with Danny Feedback and Dr. Faux & the Right Angles at the infamous Copper Rocket Pub and Bobby was in the audience supporting Danny, his very best friend since high school. I remember him complimenting me quite enthusiastically afterward, and you can hear him roaring out his approval from the crowd on my recording of the show for sure. I, of course, had known of Danny pretty much since I first came to Orlando and was (and still am) in total awe of his eccentric and ever-changing all-around creative genius. Little did I know that he and Bobby were both about to become a big part of my O-Town rock & roll family.

As far as I'm concerned, though, the real story here starts sometime in the spring of 2018 when I first saw Bobby Clock and the Soda Pops play at a show at Uncle Lou's, backed by the outrageous visual effects of my longtime collaborator and friend Joshua Rogers. It seemed strange to me that the name was plural, seeing as how Cesar was the only Soda Pop at the time. But this time I complimented Bobby afterward and then, without thinking, suggested we make some sounds together. Mind you, it wasn't like I was looking to play with anyone then; I hadn't been in a band in 20 years and felt contented to just keep on truckin' as a solo act. So I surprised even myself when that suggestion came out of my mouth so suddenly. 

Eventually Bobby and I did get together and jam at his place, just making a lot of neat improvised noise with me doing some cool shit on the bass, which caught his ear most noticeably. The following week, on the fifth of July, I went back for another jam and Cesar was there with him. "Ray, we've got a proposition for you," he began, before praising my bass skills to the heavens and inviting me to officially make the Soda Pops a full power trio. And that was the start of a whole new musical journey for me that I'm still on to this day.

Bobby Clock and the Soda Pops, with me on bass and Cesar on drums, played a string of shows in the Orlando area that wonderful summer of 2018, and brought anarchy and mayhem everywhere we went. My unannounced debut with the Pops had friends walking in off the street and looking on goggle-eyed as we blew the roof off Uncle Lou's. A couple weeks later, kicking off a bill at the Haven (now known as the Conduit), we reportedly made the next band nervous about following us, and were later called "magic" by the show's promoter. And I almost killed Bobby after the last show we played when he borrowed my guitar and proceeded to stupidly duct-tape his broken strap to it and break a string on top of it! Folks loved us, hated us, feared us, but we triumphed with our sludgy, heavy sounds. It was a great summer, one of the most memorable of my life, and it was topped off with Bobby and Cesar throwing a lovely surprise party for me on my birthday. 

Unfortunately, my time as a Soda Pop was fleeting, and I'd only wanted to stick around for a short while anyway, so Bobby replaced me with none other than Danny Feedback, who brought a very different bass style and vibe to the band. (The two had previously collaborated on other projects, most notably Hippy Gone Wrong's "Analog Wildflower," perhaps the hardest, heaviest album I've ever heard come out of Orlando, Florida.) But tragically, these changes coincided with the rapid downward spiral of Bobby. After years of struggle with heroin addiction, he overdosed at the far-too-young age of 32 the very next summer. Bobby was both brilliant and troubled, a truly complex and overwhelming figure who was impossible to pin down. There was so much going on in him that just one summer spent as the Soda Pops seemed like half a lifetime's worth of rock & roll band experience to us. The adventures we had in just that short a time are way too much to go into here. But he would leave us to carry on as loud and proud as ever. 

The times became rough, very very rough. Bobby's demise marked the beginning of the darkest period of my entire life, as my dad passed away just a few months later and then the pandemic hit, which fueled my inevitable descent into a very deep depression. But in a strange twist of fate, Cesar and I wound up quarantining together, and this situation would save my life. In all honesty, if he hadn't been there for me during this time, I don't know what the fuck I would've done with myself. Cesar deserves all your praise as well as mine for this alone. 

We turned out to be perfect lockdown partners, and spent countless hours together just sitting in the shitty apartment he shared with his cousin at the time and talking about food, music, food, Bobby, food, and Mexican culture (especially the food). We went over his video archives from our days as the Soda Pops and from these resources we created a Youtube channel to preserve Bobby's memory. Somewhere along the way I introduced Cesar to my beloved Dug Dugs, whom he hadn't heard of back in Mexico, and as always happens when I play "Smog" for new friends, he became another huge fan! Our times hanging out together during Covid really helped us cope with all we were going through in the wake of Bobby's death, and a close friendship quickly grew out of it. 

Cesar and I had made a vow to make music together again in honor of Bobby -- in fact, the deal I'd made to join the Soda Pops was that they were eventually going to be MY backing band -- but we had no place to play at the time. The apartment complex Cesar lived in was just horrible, with neighbors living directly under him, and you couldn't even attempt to use it as a practice space. So instead we just sat on his balcony and stared into the sky, week after agonizing week of quarantine, just as bored shitless as everyone else with no shows to play or go to. One day we plugged his Korg Kaossilator synth (which he'd used many times to create spacey effects with the Soda Pops) into a practice amp and blasted it on the balcony just to watch the reactions from folks on the street, taking it just about as far as we could -- that's how bored we were. But when the police locked down that decrepit project one Saturday looking for an active shooter, we knew we had to get the fuck out of there as soon as possible. 

So as our wretched 2020 came to a close, Cesar finally moved to a little shack not far away in a much better area in Apopka, and at last the seeds were planted for a new beginning. We now had a place we could make noise in, and I remembered the deal I'd made with him and Bobby to make them my backing band as well. By this time Cesar was keeping his drumming chops up playing in Danny Feedback's band, and when they shared the bill with me at the Subgenius Church-sponsored X-Day Fest over the July 4th weekend of '21, they devoted half their set to Pops covers while I played songs which would soon feature in our next phase. The lockdown was over, my depression was lifting, and finally, on Labor Day weekend, Cesar and I blew the lid off that boring holiday and had the jam session which officially started it all anew. On the spot I suggested we rename ourselves Los Jarritos, after our favorite Mexican... wait for it... soda pop! The perfect new name, one which alluded somewhat to the past while firmly establishing a new beginning. 

Los Jarritos began with a few cover tunes and some of my classic songs, but soon our renewed partnership inspired new original material in a tighter and more garage-y style than the Soda Pops. Taking inspiration from our scene and our surroundings, I came up with numbers like "Agua Fresca" and "Take Me Back To June" and "Chili Candy," songs reflective of our cultures, our environment and those weekly practices in Cesar's neighborhood in Apopka, a little mini-Mexico just on the outer tip of Orlando which has some of the most amazing Mexican food I've ever eaten in my life. I also wrote a very personal song called "Lifers" inspired by my own long rock & roll history and all the other old friends I know out there who are still playing it. We quickly got good enough to start playing out again, and where else could we have started doing shows but at the place we first and last played together, Uncle Lou's. Since then we've made one nice, raw, live Bandcamp release with my trusty pocket recorder which longtime Brazen & Bobby supporters Orlando Weekly wrote a great review of (thanks, Bao), and have even more musical surprises in store for the very near future! (Listen to "Lifers" below!)

When Los Jarritos performed at Uncle Lou's on the fifth anniversary of Bobby Clock's passing, it was just for a few very close friends and family members including Bobby's mother and younger brother (who already looks a lot like him!), and we all got something very positive out of it. We continuously referenced Bobby throughout the set before becoming the Soda Pops all over again for an extended jam on Bobby's "See & Look" as our last number. That was a moment which truly brought the whole thing full circle, and drove home the fact that Los Jarritos formed not only to respect Bobby, but to heal ourselves from perhaps the most untimely losses we've yet witnessed, not just of Bobby but of ALL THREE band members' fathers as well. (Fate can be very cruel sometimes, what the fuck can I say?)

And that's the story of two of the best bands I've ever had the pleasure of being part of. Just as Nirvana became the Foo Fighters, the Soda Pops have become Los Jarritos. Indeed it is a story with all the classic elements involved. One has to wonder if any of this would've happened had Bobby not heard that drumming coming from that garage down his street, or liked what he'd seen and heard of me weeks before. Would we ever have known what we would've missed? 

A zillion thanks to Jim Leatherman, legendary photographer and big Brazen fan, for his awesome photos of us playing live at Uncle Lou's!

THE BRAZENBLOG MUSEUM, PART 3: RELICS OF A BRAZEN CHILDHOOD

"PAUL STANLEY," PATERSON NEWS, JULY 5, 1978 -- Here I am at age 13 at the face-painting booth at Elmwood Park NJ's Fourth of July Hometown Fair. This was the second of three times I masqueraded as a member of Kiss; I got made up as all of them except Peter Criss at various times in my youth, I now (somewhat) shamelessly confess. Applying my makeup this time was the wife of my hometown's mayor, who held that position for 50 damn years until he finally died in office, and whose daughters I shared classes with in high school. (You'll notice she put the star on the wrong eye!) A local news photographer wandered by the booth as I was being made up and boom, I was front page news the next day. My first brush with fame!

UNCLE FLOYD SHOW MEMORABILIA, 1979 -- On the left is The 1979 Uncle Floyd Convention Official Souvenier (sic) Photo Book. It's a xeroxed collection of tons of screen shots of Floyd and his cast from what I consider his classic era (WTVG/WWHT Channel 68, 1978-80), captioned with dialogue and tons of jokes. There's also a cast guide with comprehensive lists of all the characters each one played. This thing would be pure solid gold to an old hardcore Floyd fan for sure, but I sure ain't giving up mine. Meanwhile, on the right, we have the July 1979 issue of New Jersey Monthly magazine and a big feature-length article on Floyd that makes some rather unflattering personal revelations about him, which led to some controversy within his fan base. In all fairness to Floyd (who is currently recovering from a stroke), I won't go into the grisly details here, but I will say the whole mess cost him some fans...

NEW YORK DAILY NEWS, FEBRUARY 3, 1979 -- Pretty surprised I still have this one! The article on Sid's OD goes into QUITE a bit of detail, but the coverage of Rockefeller's funeral doesn't say one word about the fact that he died in the midst of a sexual encounter with an intern young enough to be his granddaughter... 

ELMWOOD PARK HIGH SCHOOL PUNK CREW, JUNE 16, 1980 -- This photo is a MAJOR snapshot of my teenage years frozen in time. It was the last day of the school year and my crew decided to show up in our most outrageous punk outfits to say goodbye to the teachers for another summer. That's me at bottom right, wearing my imported Elvis Costello t-shirt I paid far more than I should've for at Trash & Vaudeville, and my vest covered with punk badges. All of the Executives (EP's first punk band) are also in the shot as well as future members of Adrenalin OD and Mourning Noise (I'll let you figure out which ones), and after we posed for John Allen's camera, we all went to Tommy Koprowski's house (thanks for the HQ scan, Mr. K!) to celebrate the start of summer recess. His folks were out of town and in their absence he'd transformed the living room into a temporary practice space for the Executives. We blasted loud live punk rock music from that house all afternoon long. It was glorious. 

As an added bonus, here's a page or two from my teenage diary with more details on the afternoon's festivities. We'll get back to this diary in a bit, but first...

HENRY WINKLER AUTOGRAPHED PHOTO, 1977 -- When I was 11 years old I absolutely fucking worshipped Fonzie. I never missed an episode of "Happy Days," and I sure didn't miss a single piece of Fonz-related merch either. I bought the books, the t-shirts, the posters and yes, unfortunately, the cash-in records (the Heyettes and Laverne & Shirley albums are truly two of the worst records ever made). So when it was announced one week in the Daily News that the man who played The Fonz would be doing a special Saturday morning live Q&A session at Radio City Music Hall, with free admission, I managed to successfully talk my mother into taking me to see him. 

We set out before sunrise fully expecting the place to be mobbed, but surprisingly, given his popularity at the time, only a small crowd turned out for this thing. Henry was soft spoken and full of good humor throughout. I don't remember much about the session except for one part where he humorously answered some 3-year-old's query, "How do you put on your pants?" ("I zip first and buckle second!" was Henry's reply.) After about 45 minutes or so he sent us on our way saying "I don't have time to sign autographs right now, but I didn't want to disappoint you so I signed a bunch of photos earlier and you can get 'em in the lobby." I got mine as you can see. I was so big a Fonzie fan it wasn't funny. And I still think Henry Winkler's cool to this day. (Does anyone else out there remember this event? Mine could very well be the first ever online mention of it.)

BRAZEN DIARY ENTRY, MAY 5, 1979 -- The staff of Sam Goody's at the Garden State Plaza in Paramus, NJ deserve very special recognition here. Shortly after I turned 13, two record saleswomen named Diane Walsh and Carol Tatarian began taking me on field trips to Greenwich Village, which of course was where all the punk record shops were at. These two ladies, along with many others at Goody's, treated me like a brother and offered friendship, understanding, and respect at a time when I needed those things most in my lonely misunderstood life. I'd been dropping in on them several times a week up to then, especially on Saturday afternoons, and the fact that we shared such similar interests in music despite the obvious age gap just blew their minds. 

To a suburban kid being bullied and laughed at daily for his punk ways, these weekend outings were trips to heaven and back for me, guided by the saints themselves. I cannot express in words how deeply my first visit impacted me. It absolutely blew my mind to see so many punks walking around like they owned the place, and taking kindly to this little "mini-punk." This diary account of what I did with all of fifty bucks of my hard-saved allowance on my second of many trips to Greenwich Village one beautiful spring Saturday in '79 is a true punk/new wave shopping list and field trip report of its time. Oh, to go back to those Village field trips and the pure, raw NYC I used to... some of the best times of my life. Carol, and Diane, and all the Sam Goody guys (wherever you are), Brazen will ALWAYS love you all. Seriously, you cats saved my fucking LIFE. 

(This, by the way, is one of a number of such old entries, and you dear readers may get to read other juicy parts of a 13-year-old punk's diaries in a future post...)

A BRAZENBLOG MUSEUM EXTRA: MY WORST GIG!

LIVING GUITARS AT PENN PLACE PUB, APRIL 28, 1989 -- All bands have that one truly bad night which goes down in their personal history as the worst show they ever played. This was ours. 

We'd accepted a gig uptown at a shitty pub across the street from MSG from some aging hippie dude named Russ who was very eccentric to say the least. The gig held some personal interest for me as the guy had also booked semi-legendary ESP-Disk label artist Ed Askew as our support act, and I was fascinated with all things ESP at that time. His set wasn't quite what I expected, but he was better than us that night for damn sure. Then Jet and I took the stage and the nightmare began. 

Four songs in, I broke a string on my guitar, and had to switch to a spare guitar Russ happened to have handy. This guitar was almost completely impossible to play. It was nearly half the size of mine and had its action set to fingertip-destroying level. I hardly managed to make it through the next song, which naturally was a song I had to play a significant lead part on. My attempt to play this lead on that piece of shit guitar was embarrassing to say the least. Jet then had to play the next song all by himself while I paused to fix the string on my guitar. I recall him angrily muttering "You better get that thing fixed fast, Ray!" under his breath to me as I went backstage wanting to die. 

We'd have hoped it would get better from there, but it got worse in a big, big way when Russ, who had a big bag of percussion beside him in the sound booth, suddenly decided that the Living Guitars needed a percussionist. This might have been acceptable were it not for two big problems: he had absolutely no sense of rhythm or restraint, and he didn't bother to ask us if we actually WANTED a percussionist. No, he just whipped out a big-ass tambourine and started playing it as loudly and obnoxiously as he could, and it made an already horrible set even worse. After several minutes of this, Jet eventually shot Russ a dirty look or three from the stage and he finally bowed out, but by then the damage was more than done. 

The only positive thing I can say about this gig is that Ed Askew seemed to like us. He spent our set sketching on a pad, and when we finished he presented us with a nice little drawing of us. Don't know what happened to that drawing (do you have it, Mark?) but I do still have the tape of this show, which I can't even listen to. Oh, and we never saw Russ (or, for that matter, Ed) again after this wretched night...

For this entry I had originally posted my one and only copy of the flyer for this show, which I designed (save for the logo by Madi Horstmann, which we once had t-shirts of), and which was in almost as bad a shape as the show it advertised. Well, legendary former WFMU DJ (and now one hell of an amazing punk archivist) Pat Duncan recently found a copy I'd given him of the flyer that's in considerably better shape than mine, and I'm now happy to upgrade the images in this post accordingly with special thanks to him! The header is a reference to one of our songs; the photo, seen in better close-up here, was taken by another former WFMU DJ, Bill Kelly, at an end-of-marathon party, and I still get a big kick out of Jet's amazing Hasil Adkins t-shirt!

(This post was updated by Ray Brazen on April 25, 2024.)

THE BRAZENBLOG MUSEUM, PART 2: LO-FI ARTIFACTS

LO-FI NIGHT, FEBRUARY 10, 1988

(I still wanna know where the hell

the full video of that night is!)

In my previous installment I went back in time to pre-colonial Williamsburg, in honor of the new book partially informed by this blog and my recent nod from the Times. So it's only natural and inevitable that Part 2 should honor Adam Harper's forthcoming book on Lo-Fi, and provide more artifacts from my own personal performing history in the process. Let's dive right in...

JET SCREAMER & RAY ZINNBRANN MAY '88 -- Jet's flyer design for two shows Jennifer Blowdryer had booked for us after stumbling across us both by chance at our first shared bill at Cafe Bustelo the previous month. We almost didn't play the second one because the first one was a total disaster which left us cursing Jennifer afterward, though we should have been cursing some very angry neighbors instead for not taking kindly to our sounds. She'd end up making amends in a very major way by adding another act to the No Rio show at the last minute. This was our formal introduction to the Gamma Rays, and we fell so hard for them that we ended up crashing a party they were playing at later that night just to see them a second time. 

At this party I also got to meet Kathleen Lynch, the go-go dancer who I'd seen perform with the Butthole Surfers twice the year before. Truly a night to remember on all levels. The No Rio gig was just one of the coolest gigs I was ever part of, and it was all worth the flat tire I got driving into NYC that night (which Jet's friends ultimately fixed for me). Jet and I would go on to form Living Guitars five months later... which brings us to...

NIGHT OF THE LIVING GUITARS, NOVEMBER 14, 1988: Jet and I had just become Living Guitars only two weeks previous to this show, which was to be our fourth (and final) shared billing as solo acts. We had only four songs under our belt but decided to just play what we had so far at this show, agreeing to cut our respective solo sets in half to make time for our debut as a duo. This show was at the strangest venue I've ever played at in my life. Cave Canem (misspelled on the flyer) was a former gay bath house with a very ancient Greek/Roman look to it! 

We ended up (sort of) teasing our collaboration during my solo set when Jet hopped up to add backing vocals to "Joey Dee Rock & Roll Retirement Home," later to become a Living Guitars number. Jet did a nice cover of "Boys Don't Cry" by the Cure in his set, then I joined him and we left the crowd breathless. Jennifer Blowdryer, who I now totally confess I had a huge crush on back then, did a splendid job go-go dancing for us at my humble request on "Cast Your Vote." 

One additional performer this night is not mentioned on my flyer as no one told me he was playing, namely Skinny Vinny, who I'd seen open for Fly Ashtray a few months before (which I still recall as one of the best live performances I ever saw) and was very happy to see again as he was one of the most unique and underrated performers of the era. (Thanks for the shout-out on Part 1, Vinny!) I taped the entire show and it's a treasure for sure. The Gamma Rays were really starting to solidify as a band by this point and I still consider them one of my all time favorites. 

As for my flyer design, I took the guitar diagram from one of the "Play Guitar With The Ventures" volumes, as clearly evidenced by the fact that the electric guitar pictured is one of their signature Mosrite models. I'd seen and met the Ventures six months prior to this gig and their influence on Living Guitars is self-explanatory.

Here is part of a review of "The Phoaming Edison Tapes," the compilation album which emerged from our precious original Lo-Fi scene, from the April 27, 1990 issue of New York Press,. A very snobby review to say the least, though at least the reviewer noted my cool guitar squiggles...

I mentioned the great Linda Hagood and Smack Dab in Part 1 of this post. Here's one of the coolest and funniest old flyers I have, drawn by the great "Wooden" Thomas Kiernan a/k/a TJK Heywood of the Modern Day Carpetbaggers, whom Bill Berger once deemed his all-time favorite lo-fi group, and who had the absolute craziest track on "The Phoaming Edison Tapes." Dig the cool twist on the address. Mr. Heywood, BTW, shares with me a certain proclivity for new music women... (If you know, you know.)

My very first officially published work... from the summer 1986 edition of WFMU's old program guide/magazine LCD, a salute to the man who gave me my original signature tune "Let Your Mind Be Your Captain," the great early '70s teen idol Bobby Sherman. I have several old issues of LCD, and apart from the time trip, they really show just how times have changed at WFMU in 40 years' time, as well as occasionally spout some VERY politically incorrect content you'd be instantly canceled for today...

I don't know how (or why) the hell I still have this, but I do: the complete script for "Pee-Pee's Flophouse," a 1987 R-rated shot-on-VHS spoof of "Pee-Wee's Playhouse" starring Chris Tsakis in the lead role, in which I appeared as myself and lip-synced to a pre-recorded version of "Let Your Mind Be Your Captain," and Bill Berger played a drug dealer. I really hope it never appears on Youtube (or anywhere else), as I recall it being truly the worst film ever shot in all of home-video history. I'll say no more.

And finally... I have original handwritten and typewritten lyrics to several classic Brazen songs, of course, but here's the one example that's most noteworthy: the words to "Joey Dee Rock & Roll Retirement Home," written way back when I was 23 years old. Oh, how this song is coming back to bite my ass now... and by the way, G.P.(O.O.T.) stands for Great Productions (Of Our Time).

And that's a wrap on my little lo-fi museum. Next time I'll be going way back to my childhood for some truly interesting stuff. Stay tuned cuz the Brazenblog's back to STAY this time for sure!

THE BRAZENBLOG MUSEUM, PART 1: WILLIAMSBURG

So of course, this wave of NYC nostalgia presently goin' 'round, coupled with the wave of requests I've received recently for historic materials, has made it inevitable that I go through some old boxes and drawers to find artifacts of my own bohemian existence folks might be interested in. I have found quite a bit of stuff, so much good shit in fact that I'm going to have to break it up into multiple parts on this blog. Suffice it to say my old trusty scanner has seen quite a workout, and that I've found some extreme rarities to preserve, starting with a whole load of old flyers announcing gigs I've seen and played in NYC in the late '80s and '90s, particularly in Williamsburg. So here, especially in light of the Brazenblog being cited by the NY Times, are some vintage Billburg flyers, with stories about each: 

LIZARD'S TAIL SCHEDULE, JULY 1989 -- Starting things off with a bang, here is a full month's schedule of events at the coolest place any of us ever played at, EVER. I draw your attention to the last event listed on this flyer. An incredible night of hypnotic wonder headlined by the Gamma Rays, who as great as they were as always, found themselves quite the tough act to follow this time thanks to two incredible performances preceding theirs: Dina Emerson, who did some incredible vocal loop pieces with her absolutely amazing voice... and SMACK DAB, playing their second gig ever (according to notes in an old journal of mine). This was my very first time seeing the amazing Linda Hagood (oh, what a babe) do her thing backed by Bill Berger, who had first heard Linda on a tape she submitted to his legendary Lo-Fi program, on drums. It would be far from my last as Linda quickly became a significant force in the little scene we had going there at the time. Truly a night to remember forever!

BILLY SYNDROME, LIZARD'S TAIL, 1988/89 -- And here are flyers for two Syndrome shows of high importance for me: the first time I caught him at the Tail, then that time seven months later when Living Guitars opened for him. These kids today don't know the half of it...

LIVING GUITARS & JURASSICS, LIZARD'S TAIL, JANUARY 5, 1990 -- The last of our three gigs at the Tail, along with our "brother band," whom Jet was an original member of before leaving them to partner with me. This was also to be our next-to-last gig as Living Guitars. Jurassics actually lasted another year when I joined them after we broke up, though the only gig we played during my time was at a private bachelor party with My Sick Friends (remember that one, Jet? Our "battle of the bands," if you will, and I think yours won!). The flyer was designed by Lonesome Steve a/k/a Big Drag, and though it's one of the more unconventional gig flyers in my collection, our love of White Castle is nonetheless very real. 

THUNDERING URBAN UNDIES RAID, APRIL 28, 1995 -- Handwritten flyer by Malcolm Tent, who had formed Thai Raid just a few months earlier with myself and two of the Nice Undies. The name was Malcolm's clever condensation of the original lineup of Thundering Lizards, Urban Outdoorsmen, Nice Undies, and Thai Raid (whom Malcolm and I formed after both leaving the Lizards). This one's a LONG story, folks. The Right Bank had closed, sort of, at the end of 1994, but some folks wouldn't let it die. This led to a few more on-and-off re-openings over the next few months and a few more shows under the Tepkar banner (I HATED that name), of which this was the very last one to be held in its big back room. This would also turn out to be the last Nice Undies show. Just before the show, Conrad, frontman for the Urban Outdoorsmen, quit the band and moved back to his home state, Texas. There were more crazy and twisted goings-on at this thing than I should detail here... but let's say this gig almost didn't happen. Shortly afterwards, the Right Bank closed again, sealed off the back room, and then reopened, with gigs taking place in the back of the bar instead up till 2003 when it closed for good.

 

THAI RAID, RIGHT BANK, JUNE 20, 1997 -- And here is the first flyer I ever designed on a computer, for a show at our official home base. We'd just released our first EP on orange vinyl which we'd recorded right around the corner in a studio in a dark alley...

VARIOUS THUNDERING LIZARDS FLYERS 1992-1995 -- Feast your everlovin' eyes on this gallery, folks. This is a virtual treasure trove of original flyers drawn by Karl Lorenzen a/k/a K.L. He started off as a floating member of the Lizards, but quickly found his place within the group as both its resident poet and artist extraordinaire, and later a full-fledged performing member himself. K.L., apart from being one of the coolest and most humble humans you'd ever want to meet, designed most of the Lizards' flyers as well as the sleeve for our first single, and I only wish I knew where the hell he is now because I lost touch with him as soon as I moved to Florida... if anyone out there has any info, let me know ASAP! (Yeah, I know only the first one is for a show in Williamsburg, but who's counting?)

I also found three issues of The Curse, a local xeroxed art and literature zine published and distributed in Williamsburg in the mid-1990s which in my view was WAY cooler than Waterfront Week. These include guest articles from the likes of Jim Marshall (a/k/a ex-WFMU DJ The Hound) and Legs McNeil, and enough vintage time-period content to make old Billburg residents cry in their beer.

One last artifact before I go... particularly, the flyer for Evil Jim Friendly's 40th birthday party at the Right Bank. If you knew Billy, you certainly knew Jimmy. JFK Jr. Royal Airforce was the last band he and Billy had before Billy had his stroke. He lives in Florida now, just like me. How it all comes down to fate in the end... 

That's it for Part 1, folks, stay tuned for more from the Brazenblog Museum in the very near future! 

A WORD FROM YOUR FRIENDLY BRAZENBLOGGER

Ray Brazen with Michael Winslow

of "Police Academy" fame!

Photo by Josh Rogers

I realize it's been quite some time since I last posted. Rather than offer lame excuses for my absence here, I'll just say I think it's time to rectify that situation and get back into the game. But before I get back to business as usual, I wish to address this blog's current status as an increasingly popular source of info amongst certain academics. 

Yes, friends, the scholars of underground rock have come a-knockin' at my door lately, looking for whatever info they can find for their research, and I of course have plenty to offer them. Mind you, this isn't the first time they've been accessing my work for clues. Back in the raybrazen.com days, quotes from my Godz biography wound up referenced and footnoted in an extensive online essay called "Clamor Of The Godz: Radical Incompetence In '60s Rock," which is still available online and is a well written and researched work indeed, going as far as to reveal facts about the Godz even I didn't know before. 

This time, however, they're hitting me up for info and other materials for inclusion in actual, published books of rock history. In fact, I didn't even know the Brazenblog had already been quoted and referenced in one such book until after it was published. It's a nifty little book called "The Williamsburg Avant-Garde: Experimental Music and Sound on the Brooklyn Waterfront," authored by a Mr. Cisco Bradley, and it's an extensive history of Williamsburg's pre-gentrification glory period. And soon there will be a second book informed in part by this blog, a history of lo-fi music and culture being written by an educator who teaches an actual college class on lo-fi in England of all places! I almost fell out of my chair when Adam Harper contacted me to specifically request a high-quality scan of the original flyer for Lo-Fi Night, that 1988 concert in NYC which marked my performing debut and changed the lives of myself and so many others, for inclusion in this tome! I've also provided other materials for Mr. Harper's research, and truly cannot wait for this one to hit the shelves. I'll announce its release here when the time comes for sure. 

Even as one who has witnessed and chronicled rock history myself, I honestly admit it feels a bit strange to have my personal adventures and online works suddenly be referenced in actual published books. I mean, it's not like me and my old lo-fi crew were giving any thought to the possibility that we were making history, either back in '88 or indeed any other time before this current wave of scholarly interest. "Our scene will be in a history book someday!" said no one ever. 

But we are now living in a day and age where any and all memories of any underground scenes of ages past are ripe for those interested to pounce upon, and they're right there on the internet for the world to see. And there's certainly no point in denying these folks their interest. I know exactly what they're thinking because I've been there myself, many times over. The old saying "what goes around comes around" certainly applies here. After all, I created my Dug Dug's and Godz websites for the purpose of doing exactly what these researchers are doing now -- learning as much as possible about those bands and documenting this knowledge for others, and boy did I succeed at that. 

All I can say to all of this is that I'm proud of all my online work, proud of this Brazenblog, and thankful and grateful that others consider my work over the years to be an inspiration for theirs. And I wish Messrs. Bradley and Harper all the best of luck in what they do, for the truth of the matter is that it takes more than one person to tell the whole story, and the more people adding to the big picture, the better. Write on, gentlemen.

And so, with my solemn vow to get back to blogging more than ever before in '24, this is the first of two brand new posts for the Brazenblog. There are still many tales to be told, unfinished stories to get back to, and even a few crazy little whims I've been entertaining recently in the realm of further underground rock research on my part. And by the way, this message just so happens to be the 49th entry to this blog, which means get the party favors ready now, folks! See you in a bit...