Tag Archives: John Lennon

Telling Lies

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Last night Tricky played a show at Irving Plaza. I told Roda about it, and he set about trying to get on the guest list. Yesterday he called and let me know. Unfortunately I had to be in early this morning so I could not go. I told him around noon. I found out a little before that, that one of our subtenants was having a meeting early enough for the need for me to be in and help out.

Roda understood the need to make some dosh, and I wished him a good evening. Around 10:00 I get some texts from Roda. CD info on Tricky’s latest, and the fact he had just taken a consonant or perhaps a vowel. I’m supportive and slightly envious and wish him a good time and an ecstatic trip.

A half hour later I get a phone call, a blast of overloaded digital white noise from Irving Plaza. It lasted 44 seconds before the line went out. Roda did get backstage and spoke with Tricky and mentioned Central Park from a few years ago. (Written as The Ghost in You last month) They wound up hanging out, Roda even going to the after party at a club nearby. Roda didn’t get home until 3:00AM. Yikes.

I went to bed after watching Cotton Hill’s bland speech. I have to say that Sarah Palin’s screeching was more rousing for those republicans. Most attack dogs do command attention after all. But once again I only listened slightly to McCrazy, paid more attention to an early birthday present from Annemarie and Co., John Lennon Rock ‘n’ Roll.

His covers record, which came out in 1975 and the last record before retirement. Of course it has a history. Lawsuits, Morris Levy and Phil Spector and May Pang, John and Apple/Capitol Records, contracts, car crashes, missing tapes. It’s all in there. It did ok, made the top ten in the US charts. It was said that he had run out of material, hence it being a covers album, but at the time it was a fashion to do fifties and sixties songs, like David Bowie did with Pin Ups.

Speaking of the Dame, I watched a YouTube clip of David on the Dick Cavett Show from 1975. Young Americans, Luther Vandross, David Sanborn. I had that as a cassette. Only liked the title song and Fame. Young Americans opened the tape and Fame ended it.

I guess I played those 2 songs so much that the rest of the tape was reverse, leaving me able to only play those two songs. I didn’t much like Bowie then except for those songs. The ‘cool’ kids liked Bowie and they were all smoking pot at age 12. I wasn’t ‘cool’, not for another 8 years.

I starting liking him when he started to lose some popularity with Low. He was getting too far out there and that’s where I got it. Still wasn’t too fond of Ziggy et al. I saw him on Broadway in The Elephant Man though in 1980 I believe.

Had 1st row seats and of course he was mesmerizing. The people behind us gave him flowers at the end of the show and he thought they were from me and my friends and thanked us so graciously.

A lot of years pass and I find myself working at Right Track Recording on west 48th Street. David is one of our clients. He was super nice and extremely personable. Just one of the guys, sitting across from my desk chatting about whatever it was like we were mates. I did feel a little bit like Karen Lynn Gorney from Saturday Night Fever.

Then I saw him a few weeks later at Madison Square Garden. I had never seen Bowie live and of course he was amazing though he shared the stage with Lou Reed, Robert Smith, Billy Corgan and Dave Grohl among others.

It was a birthday celebration with the guests covering a Bowie song and then duets with the Dame. A wonderful evening but not really a David Bowie show I guess. A special event nonetheless.

The next time I saw him at the studio, I had changed my perception of him. He wasn’t David Bowie anymore. After seeing him live, I saw him as DAVID BOWIE. It was an odd thing that I had to get over, since being star struck is a no no in the recording studio world.

He thought enough of me to autograph an advance cassette of the record he was working on, Earthling, which of course is one of my favorite Bowie records. Actually he gave me his copy of the cassette, then took it back saying that he ought to autograph it for me. Awfully nice. Asking for autographs is also frowned upon by the way.

Still have it, in fact if I turn my head, it’s within eyesight. He finished Earthling soon after that. He did ask my opinion since he heard I was a DJ, who would I recommend from the DJ world to remix a track or two? I drew a blank and told him I would get back to him in a few.

I called Rand and asked him since he was wise in the world of remixes. He threw out a few names, Josh Wink and a few others. I went back to David and told him who might be good and he basically didn’t like most of the names. I gave up.

It wasn’t until maybe a month later, did I realize that I could have probably suggested myself. He wasn’t going to ask me, but perhaps thought I might have the edge, the nerve, the cojones to promote myself.
But no, I didn’t.

D’oh.

Sniffy Dame(video pulled by EMI)

Croaking Lizard

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Day something or other of the heat wave. Yes, it’s hot again and the question on everyone’s mind is, ‘Is it hot enough for ya?’ Still while walking through midtown Manhattan today I do see the occasional Asian Indian wearing long sleeved shirts. So for them- No, it isn’t hot enough.

Last night I watched Generation Kill which for me brought the early days of the current war home. I had heard about unarmored vehicles but last night watching the troops heading into Iraqi towns, you could see they were sitting ducks.

I still don’t see why they just don’t grab Donald Rumsfeld and strap him to the front of a jeep and let him catch the bullets. Stupid fucktard that he is. He’s been out of the limelight lately so that probably means he’s going to die soon.

Before I watched Generation Kill I watched a biopic on John Lennon called , ‘In His Life: The John Lennon Story’. It focused on the early years of John’s life, having to choose between living with his mother or father, the battles with his Aunt Mimi, his mother Julia’s death and of course meeting Paul McCartney and George Harrison. That’s as far as I got before switching over to Generation Kill.

After that I watched the Simpsons Movie which is still pretty funny. It’s aged well, after a year.

This morning was back to work. Three days off seemed longer, but that may be because I stayed indoors most of the weekend and napped quite a bit. Time crawls when you’re climbing the walls.

I played Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry’s Reggae Greats album on the iPod walking to work. It’s a collection of ten songs that Lee Perry produced. I hadn’t heard it in a while and it is a fave. It brought back a few memories of how deeply immersed I was in Reggae for a number of years.

It was basically all I listened to. I have a deep love of Dub as well. Reggae and dub go hand in hand. I listened to Bob Marley in the 1980’s but didn’t buy anything except for the Legend collection and also Black Uhuru, Red. I did see the original Black Uhuru open up for King Sunny Ade at the Dr. Pepper music festival on the pier with a bunch of friends. I could swear that show lasted about six hours.

Somehow in the 1990’s I became totally infatuated with reggae. I was working at Skyline Studios and out on the street there were usually some Rastas hanging out selling weed. My friend Miriam was into reggae as much as I was, so I got a lot of music from her when we weren’t fighting. Usually the peace pipe brought us together.

I learned from Miriam about Gregory Issacs, Dennis Brown, Jacob ‘The Killer’ Miller, Burning Spear, U-Roy, I-Roy and Big Youth among others. The Rastas outside became friendly enough to invite inside. No work for them indoors. They were welcome until They Might Be Giants complained about feeling uneasy with the dreads hanging around my desk. Friggin’ nerds ruined it and I’ve never liked They Used to Mean Something to Someone ever again, though I didn’t much care for them beforehand.

True they had the run of the studio and at $2000 an hour they were entitled to having whomever they wanted around. I became good friends with a Rasta named Marcus and his brothers. They came from Guyana one by one. First Marcus, then Clarence, then Kenneth and finally the baby, Jamal.

Marcus was the oldest and lived in the States for a number of years. The other three came from the country and understanding them was a challenge. After hanging around with them for a few months I started to slip into a patois whenever I was talking to them.

It came quite naturally and raised eyebrows when I would talk to them on the phone. I’d hang up and whoever was around would ask what the hell it was I was talking about. I couldn’t really tell them.

Marcus was nice enough to lend me his giant sound system during my DJ’ing heydays. Two giant speakers, a mixer and amplifier and I was soon spinning classic selections at Johnny’s Bar in the Village on Wednesday nights. A small bar the size of a shoebox filled with my friends and Rastas on Wednesday nights. Too bad it only lasted a few weeks, but oh well.

I remember one night at McSwells, a drunken Joe Kindarotten (is there any other kind of Joe Kindarotten?) gave me a hard time about the homophobia in Reggae. I told Joe that the homophobia was more with Danehall Reggae which I didn’t like, I was more into Roots Reggae, which is a big difference.

I guess it was just a phase, my passion for Reggae a highly enjoyable phase. I resented Carly Simon’s brother, Peter who told me that my immersion into Reggae culture was a phase. Like he would know after publishing two photo journals about Reggae music. After countless shows, spliffs and late night laughs, Reggae stopped being in the forefront of my musical tastes.

It still is a music than enabled me to make friends, easier than Rock and Roll ever did. My love for Reggae is still there, it’s in my DNA and usually comes up during drug testing.

Under construction

The tying of the shoe

Bomb sniffing dogs at Grand Central