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!
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 new 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 streets.
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...
For better or worse, golden anniversaries are all the rage in rock these days, and there are certainly enough such milestones around to make anyone feel old, myself most included. In 2022 alone, we've seen such albums as "Ziggy Stardust," "Exile On Main Street," "The Slider," and "Harvest" turn 50, just to name a few. All great albums, to be sure, and all worthy of their respective celebrations. But 1972 also saw the making of another album which should rightfully be heralded in the same league as the aforementioned discs, and one I believe would be just as highly celebrated globally today -- had it been made by an American or British band and been released outside of Mexico. Behold, the absolute greatest 50-year-old rock album the world has never known: "Smog" by Los Dug Dug's.
Of course, my tireless work on behalf of this band is well documented both here and on my website. But it should be pointed out that when I first began championing Los Dug Dug's online, my view of them as "Mexican rock gods the world ought to know about" was shaped by just three albums: their self-titled debut, "El Loco," and the "15 Exitos" compilation, which for its generous representation of the band's other albums only included the title track of "Smog." Thus, I've only been able to enjoy "Smog" in full for half of its existence. Oh, but as big a fan as I was up to the point where I finally heard it, "Smog" would prove not only to be the album which totally changed the whole Dug Dug's fanboy game for me, but in light of what happened between me and the band soon after my first hearing, it would soon take its place in my world as nothing less than a prophecy of what was about to come.
"Smog" first came my way on a grey Maxell cassette as part of a tape trade I'd made with a fellow psych fan I'd struck up a brief online acquaintance with. He had all three albums I'd yet to hear in full by the band ("Cambia Cambia" and "Abre Tu Mente" being the other two) and had taped them all for me, but it was "Smog" I rushed to hear first. The kind gentleman who made me the tapes gave me no advance warning that I was in for the ride of my life. No "this is one of the ballsiest records you will ever hear," no "and by the way the heaviest track on it is 12 minutes long," just "here you go, enjoy." The muddy sound quality confirmed it was a copy of a tape he'd received in a trade with someone else, who for all I know might not even have owned the original source vinyl copy himself. But I had to hear what I'd been missing up till then any way I could.
But even if the guy who had mailed it to me had been more specific about its contents, there would have been absolutely no words in the end which could prepare me, or anyone else, for that crucial, life-altering first listen to "Hagamoslo Ahora (2a Parte)," the multi-part suite which takes up most of side one of "Smog." It had me right at the double-bass kick drum beat which starts it off and runs through damn near the entire song, such a sucker am I for a double-bass drum sound. Through a succession of simple-yet-hammering riffs and scorching drum and piercing guitar mini-solos, it took me on a 12-minute rollercoaster ride of complete and total hard rock power.
Words here are practically useless in describing this monster of a track -- you have to hear it to believe it, especially Daniel Tello's performance on drums which sounds like nothing less than the Iron Man Decathlon of drumming as he keeps pace with the most intense performance Armando Nava ever committed to tape. (Mr. Tello has recently rejoined Los Dug Dug's, and when they performed "Hagamoslo Ahora (2a Parte)" in honor of the 50th anniversary of Avandaro last year, he recreated his drum marathon perfectly and looked like he was hardly breaking a sweat the whole time!) It was so far above and beyond any Dug Dug's track I'd heard until then that I was literally in shock over it for a full week afterward.
To say "Smog" made me more determined than ever to track down Armando is an understatement, and just days after that first hearing, the series of events which led me to him began in earnest. When we finally established contact less than two months later I was genuinely convinced that listen had brought with it magic powers. This theory was proven further when he not only visited me in April of the following year, but made me almost run off the road when he tried to present me with a vinyl copy of "Smog" in my car. Truth is indeed stranger than fiction, folks.
Of course, "Hagamoslo Ahora (2a Parte)" is just one part of "Smog." As a whole, it's an album containing the full range of '70s hard rock passion and emotion, from the Jethro Tull-esque title cut and "No Somos Malos" to the straight-up rocker "Cual Es Tu Nombre," and the gorgeously reflective, orchestral 7-minute closer "Voy Hacia El Cielo." And then there's my other favorite track "Yo No Se," a quirky and almost punky song which sounds practically like Devo to my ears! And then there's that album cover depicting the band as cavemen, complete with Armando's bleached grey locks, a dead giveaway that this album doesn't quite sound like the Carpenters. ("I don't have to dye them that way now!" laughed Armando to me recently.) This album is every bit as great as the albums I named earlier and so many more, and what's more, it rocks harder than all of 'em combined.
The fury of "Smog" can easily be traced to its historic background, as Los Dug Dug's were a band in turmoil throughout the album's entire production. Their original lineup had imploded after playing the Avandaro Festival, its scandalous aftermath having led to a government crackdown on rock, and Armando wanted to change their image from flower-power to full-on heavy rock and reverse the then-prevalent trend in Mexico of local bands singing in English in the process. RCA wanted another album in English, still promising to promote them in the States despite having done no such thing with the English-language album they'd already cut. Steadfastly refusing to buy the bridge they were selling him, Armando defied RCA and hid away for two weeks to make the album in Spanish with a new lineup of the band which lasted pretty much about the time it took to complete the album before once again breaking up. Daniel Tello was so swift to exit, in fact, that Armando's brother Enrique had to stand in on the photo session for that amazing cave-rock cover, though he became their new drummer soon afterward.
In fact, the band's new super-heavy hard rock image itself didn't withstand the release of "Smog," as Los Dug Dug's version 3.0 went on to release "Cambia, Cambia" as the follow-up in 1974, with a distinctly mellower, poppier sound and the band clean-shaven on the cover. I can only imagine how shocking "Cambia" was to fans who had fallen for them via "Smog" when it was first released in Mexico, though it's still a good album on its own terms. But while the "Smog" lineup may not have been long for this world, they left a mark that would eventually travel the world, better late than never, thanks in no small part to this truly obsessed and dedicated "Smog" fan's efforts.
"Smog" has easily taken its place in my book as perhaps the single greatest and most personally important and spiritually significant album I've ever known. Even after hundreds upon hundreds of listens I'll never get sick of it. I always have to watch my speed when I play it in my car. I could probably listen to it on repeat for the rest of my life and be just fine (not that I'm about to, of course). Rating-wise it is an easy and effortless 10/10. And 25 years after I first heard it, 50 years after it was first released in Mexico, it's still one of the freshest-sounding albums you'll ever experience. They've just issued it on clear vinyl in honor of its golden occasion. You should get it. It just might change your life too.
My personal musical heroes continue to drop like flies in the present wretched scheme of things. Larry Kessler, founding member of psych/outsider/noise-rock pioneers the Godz, passed away on March 24th. It was a cruel and avoidable end: Larry was on his way to a recording studio in Baltimore to finish recording a new song ironically titled "Ain't Done Yet" when he was mowed down by a drunk driver in the studio's parking lot. Put quite simply, it was a very tragic accident which should never have happened. Larry was 80 years old and still active and healthy; many folks, myself included, were looking forward to seeing how many more years he'd have left in him. And as I mourn his untimely loss, my personal memories of the Godz have come flooding back to me to the point where I've realized I never did finish that damn memoir of my days as a fansite manager that I started writing in pre-dark age times. And since the next chapter's the Godz, well... the time is more than right to finally pick up where I left off.
In 1998, just after my initial internet success tracking down Armando Nava of Los Dug Dug's, I was hellbent on repeating that success. Just as I had done with Los Dug Dug's, I started another website as a plea for any info on the whereabouts of another favorite band of mine whose story was still untold at that point, and gave it the name FIRST CHURCH OF THE GODZ. It attracted the attention of a few informed fans as well as late-period Godz associate Leslie Fradkin, who deserves credit for helping the site get off the ground initially. But it wan't until late 2002 that this site finally found its way to Larry Kessler when he sat down with his then-teenage son Mike to learn about the internet, and out of curiosity they did an online search for the Godz. Bingo! And so it was that one fine day, Mike Kessler (one of no less than seven kids Larry fathered) emailed me and asked if I was interested in talking to his dad. At long last lightning had struck twice!
And so, on February 18, 2003, after we'd both dug ourselves out of a massive blizzard (he in Baltimore, me in New Jersey), I called Larry and we talked for a full hour. He couldn't possibly have been more cordial or appreciative of my interest. He had no regrets about his days with the Godz, and even spoke of current and future endeavors. He answered most of my questions, told some insane stories about the band, and even debunked some claims Jim McCarthy had made in a fanzine interview a fellow fan had sent me a few years earlier. He also spoke at length about his days as ESP Disk's general sales manager and lamented the fact that the band had never received so much as a cent in royalties from the label's many different issues of their albums. It was a wonderful chat and at last I had a truly clear vision of what the Godz' existence had been like. Here's a slightly edited version of my interview with Larry for your listening enjoyment, ripped straight from cassette:
We kept each others' contact info on file and promised to stay in touch. This vow would come in handy two years later when, in 2005, ESP Disk suddenly went back into business in NYC and began an extensive reissue campaign of many of its classic late '60s releases. Among their plans at that time was a box set reissue of all four original Godz albums. And it had just so happened that ESP's notorious president, Bernard Stollman, had also seen my Godz website by that point and was interested in having me write the liner notes and help him coordinate the project. Stollman was a man whose label deeply influenced me and my music over the years... and he was about to become one of the biggest assholes I'd ever meet in my entire life.
I already knew of Stollman's shady business practices going in, so I approached the situation with extreme caution and talked to Larry first. He was already hip to the label's plans, and I'd assumed he wouldn't want me to get involved, but to my surprise, when I asked if he approved of my participation, he said "Go do it!" Then, upon establishing phone contact with Stollman, I insisted on several terms for our participation in the project, such as securing the approval of all of the original Godz, and insisting the finished product be cut from the original analog masters which were in Larry's possession. ESP's previous reissues had been of absolutely pisspoor quality for the most part, and thus I made it clear that I was not willing to put my name on a box set the Godz themselves were unhappy with. This seemed fine with Stollman... or so he said at the time.
Getting the original members of the Godz on the same page was not the easiest of tasks. Larry, bless him, trusted me enough to pass me the phone numbers of Jim McCarthy and Paul Thornton. Jim flat-out refused to talk to me, while Paul, at first seemingly just as open to the idea as Larry, then began ignoring my follow-up contacts. I soon learned both were making plans to legally block ESP's production of the Godz box. This news came my way in the form of a lovely little cease-and-desist letter from their lawyers, who insisted any future contact with the band on my part was to be "through us and not our clients."
Eventually, however, Paul had some sort of disagreement with their lawyers, broke free from their grasp, and finally agreed to speak at length with me himself. This we did in August '05, just two days after my official formal meeting with Stollman, over lunch with him and his wife at the world-famous Veselka restaurant (a Ukranian eatery by the way... oh, these wretched times we're now in) on the lower east side of NYC. Just like Larry, Paul was super-friendly and more than happy to talk about his days with the Godz, and he was even able to answer a few questions Larry couldn't. Meanwhile, we all wondered about the whereabouts of the ever-elusive fourth member Jay Dillon, who the others hadn't seen or heard from since he'd left the band after their second album in 1968. Sadly, we found out Jay had just passed away that very summer as we'd finally tracked him down to his last address in Pennsylvania, where he'd been living a quiet life -- a sad end to a scenario which had me contacting nearly every damn person named Jay Dillon in the continental United States trying to find him!
With or without their involvement, though, the Godz box set project was quite honestly doomed from the get-go. Their breakup had been less than amicable and there were still plenty of unresolved tensions amongst them, which Stollman obviously saw as a golden opportunity to further exploit them for his own personal gain. At any rate, Jim continued to pursue his case against ESP while Paul, Larry and myself tried to cooperate with Stollman as best we could. Things remained stuck in a holding pattern until Jim's lawyers finally proposed a settlement which ESP promptly rejected, after which I called Larry and we both agreed the whole mess had become a complete waste of our time.
I then made the brave move of volunteering to call Stollman myself to inform him that Larry and I were quitting the project. Holy fucking shit. That scumbag completely lost his marbles before I could even get all the words out. He immediately launched into a truly insane, brain-dead rant in which he made the dubious claim that "I created the Godz and I can destroy them too" and threatened to "countersue them out of existence for good" if they pursued any further action against him. I finally hung up on him and that was that -- Bernard and I would never talk again.
By now it was 2006, a full year since work on the project had been started, and I'd made the decision to just leave Larry and the others alone for a spell. It was obvious the box set was now a dead issue, but I further assumed I'd failed miserably in getting all three surviving members back together. That's why I was astonished when Larry suddenly hit me up out of the blue several months later with the exciting news that I had, in fact, succeeded in reuniting the Godz after all. It turned out that after Stollman's rejection of Jim's offer, the three of them finally got together in the same room and talked out all their differences, and they were all now officially part of Jim's lawsuit against ESP. And Larry was excited to further announce that the Godz were also preparing to make their first recordings since 1973.
With everyone on the same page at last, Jim finally agreed to speak with me. It was a memorable half-hour call where he expressed his appreciation for the work I'd done on their behalf, spoke about his love of photography, and even hipped me to a super-obscure late '70s Australian noise band called the Primitive Calculators who had mysteriously dedicated an album to him! At last I'd now talked to all three Godz, and my personal fanboy experience was that much more complete.
The lawsuit dragged on for awhile but the Godz ultimately reached a non-disclosure settlement with ESP before Stollman finally (and thankfully) died of cancer in 2015. And as for the reunion, they managed to record some new songs which appeared on a retrospective CD Larry put out soon after the settlement -- the first official Godz release outside of ESP. Jim sent me regular updates during this time as well as CDRs of the new material (and even a Christmas card!), and I kept fans posted on my website. There was talk of a full new album and tour, but their rekindled affair didn't last long and they disbanded again. Larry kept the rights to the name and later formed his own new version of the Godz which Paul occasionally sat in with before he passed in 2019. And now Larry is gone, leaving Jim as the only remaining original member of the group. It is my sincere wish that we don't lose him too soon.
For all its ups and downs, I have no regrets whatsoever about my involvement in this whole glorious mess. Just as with Los Dug Dug's before them, I had succeeded in tracking down a band I'd loved for years, finally unraveling their mysteries, learning their story, and relating it to others. The liner notes I wrote for the aborted box set were ultimately updated further and published on this blog in 2016 to commemorate the 50th anniversary of "Contact High With The Godz." If you haven't already done so, you may read and enjoy them right here.
And so, to Larry Kessler... Godzspeed, my dear friend. I'm gonna miss you. And thanks so much to you, and also to Jim McCarthy and Paul Thornton, for everything you've done. And I must add special thanks to Larry's son Mike, who hooked me up with him and also broke the sad news of his passing to me -- you are a true servant of the Godz if ever there was one.
