Johnny Mad Dog
For you New Yorkers, at the Anthology Film Archives until Thursday of this week:
[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4m465VOV1_c%5D
This movie will never get a theatrical release in the U.S.
[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FcjRl8MGORw%5D
The Lion King it’s not!
Johnny Mad Dog was made in 2008, shot in Liberia, starring mostly ex-kid soldiers. It doesn’t get much grimmer than this. If you can’t see the film, try the book by Emmanuel Dongala.
The DVD is available in the U.K., any unscrambled player or computer should be able to read it.
The next clip is a look at the real thing, this ran a few years back on the sadly defunct NY Times/Discovery Channel, great purveyors of snuff TV. It’s called Liberia: An Uncivil War and the only way to see in nowadays is in ten minute clips via YouTube. About half way though if I remember it correctly is perhaps the most brutal scene ever filmed. Thankfully the war is over in Liberia, Charles Taylor is still on trial. Didn’t Lars from the A-Bones date his daughter way back when? It’s unlikely Taylor will ever experience even an iota of the suffering he has caused. but these things can happen anywhere in the world, at any time. How soon until it happens here?
[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DGbob5O2pbE%5D
Me, sorry, but I’m gone until spring. See you then.
Fifty Found Photos From The Fang
The Fang has published a limited edition hard bound volume of the first fifty Found Photos from our Gillian’s Found Photo installments. Comments by me and you all. I think they are $35 + postage (roughly what is cost to print ’em). For more info e-mail the Fang @ gmcfriesprojects@gmail.com. I think there’s also copies of the book from the Help Me show still available.
The Byrds 1967
The Byrds- Early ’67, Crosby’s Last Stand.
The Byrds Late ’67 .
I loved the Byrds as a kid, so cool, mechanical and mysterious. At least until David Crosby started talking in public. Even if there whole sound came from two Beatles songs, maybe one (Rain, their best).
I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen the top clip before, if I did, it was as an eight year old and I drove it out of my mind.
The Byrds, post hair iron, Mike Clarke high enough to fall out of his drum chair (and sporting a precursor to his Firefall look), Chris Hillman with a natural ‘fro, David Crosby, looking full of himself enough to smack, as I’m sure the other bands members would agree. Lip syncing, but not to the record, but an alternate version of their peak moment– Eight Miles High.
Below we see ’em later the same year, the offensive David Crosby given the boot and replaced briefly by Gene Clark, who oddly enough had been booted out for making more money than the rest of the band due to his songwriting credits on the first two album, he’d be gone again within months.
Skip forward to around the six and half minute mark on this version out take of Universal Mind Decoder to hear a funny studio argument, the word fuck was removed at the Byrds requested 17 times, anyone have the uncut version out there?
Universal Mind Decoder.
Bobby Robinson
They’re going to bury Bobby Robinson (Morgan Clyde Robinson, born April 16, 1917, in Union, S.C.) tomorrow at the United House Of Prayer For All People on 8th Ave and 125th Street, the viewing is 3-6 PM with a service to follow. Obit can be found here.
Bobby’s the last of the great New York record men, he died early this week at age 93, but he really died a few years ago when he could no longer afford the rent on his 125th St. record store Bobby’s Happy House (his old store is now a KFC, he was relocated around the corner for a few years, that building was torn down and Bobby was out on his ass), Bobby’s Happy House which had been on the block since 1946. Priced out nearly twenty years ago, the block is now home to Starbucks and Bill Clinton and the white gentrification of Harlem.
Christ, how many great R&B and rock’n’roll records did Bobby make? Kansas City by Wilbert Harrison, the #1 record the day I was born (May 23, ’59), always made me feel like we had a personal bond. Lee Dorsey, Wild Jimmy Spruill, Lightnin’ Hopkins, Elmore James, a couple of hundred great doo wop records, early hip hop, Jerry Wexler couldn’t shine his belt buckle. I met him many times when Jimmy Spruill would take me by the record store, he always had a funny story to share, a smile, a joke, and some honest advice. Bye bye pal, the town won’t be the same without you.
Bobby & Buddy- What’s The Word, Thunderbird (Fury 1008)
Goodbye Naughts…
The Rolling Stones Ready Steady Go Special, 1966. Best Live Stones Footage Ever (in three parts).
Danny Fields’ tape box for Stooges Uganos (w/Velvets rehearsal on the other side!).
When in doubt, run photos of Bebe.
As the end of the first decade of the 21st century closes in, it’s time to make some sense of what happened in the last ten years. By the time I’ve done that, the roaring 20’s should be here. One thing is for sure, the world I once knew, and inhabited, is long gone. For lack of a better word, “bohemian” life in NYC is a thing of the past. Priced out by high rents, the city that was once a playground for the cool and the crazy is now a mall for the entitled. I came here in 1977 with $200 in my pocket, and had a job and an apartment within a week. What would I do if was eighteen today? I have no idea. I guess life, or at least social life, has moved into cyber space, which leaves old timers like me more than a tad alienated. I think the outbreak of autism just may be the human race mutating into the type of creature it will have to be to survive in the future. The skills we don’t need (human relations, face to face contact, etc.) have atrophied, welcome to product driven man. Each day is more and more like living in a Phillip K. Dick novel, except I’m not much of a Dick fan. I’m more of a Graham Greene type, and the subjects he addressed– loyalty, duty, etc. seem almost quaint in the modern world.
Maybe it was bound to happen, you can only arrange three chords so many different ways, but Rock’n’Roll has become something akin to Dixieland, i.e. something old folks get together to do on weekends, a generation to dumb for rock’n’roll has grown up and taken the reins of pop culture, and most of the people I knew and associated with rock’n’roll are dead. Which is a long winded way of saying, I need a break. After 28 months of at least bi-weekly blogging, I’m taking a month off to let my mental battery recharge. I’ll be back at the typer around the second or third week of January.
One thing never changes, and that is the Stooges are still the kings of rock’n’roll and the touchpoint for whatever is left of the stuff. Buy yourself a Christmas present and get Rhino Handmade’s Stooges: Have Some Fun: Live At Uganos, despite the quality of Danny Field’s hand held cassette recording, we get to hear the band at one of their peaks, coming off the heels of recording Funhouse, they’re white hot, and this disc is a must. They’ve got shows booked for 2012, who would have thought the Stooges would be around after 45+ years, having buried all their contemporaries (and half their band) they’re like the eternal torch for rock’n’roll. For a review of the Have Some Fun check Blog To Comm (scroll down a bit).
Those other mainstays of R&R mentality, for better or worse, The Rolling Stones may never play again, in light of Keith Richards wonderfully vitriolic Life, but then again, even they can’t hold a candle to the modern day Stooges. They haven’t sounded right since Bill Wyman left anyway. I assume Bob Dylan will tour until his vocal chords snap, good for him. I must admit, I like the matador get up he’s been wearing.
It’s that time of year when I start missing the people– Bob Quine, Kelly Keller, Bill Pietsch, Dee Dee Ramone, Rockets Redglare, so many others, who were part of my day to day life. Luckily for them, none of them had to think about Facebook. See you in the new decade.
Billy Boy Arnold
Gillian’s Found Photo #58
This week’s found photo, exact place and date unknown, shows a bunch Children Of God cult members caught in their own version of religious rapture. The Children Of God, were (and still are) a creepy hippie-Christian cult, I touched on them briefly in my June, 2009 posting on Jeremy Spencer, the Fleetwood Mac front man who quit the group to join the C.O.G. mid-tour back in 1971. The Children Of God are still around, now doing biz as “Family International” (briefly they were Family of Love), and Spencer is still with them. Children Of God were founded by the late Moses David aka Dad (born– David Brandt Berg) who croaked back in ’94, just as the law was closing in on him. Over the years all sorts of disturbing reports have come from former members from accusations of child abuse and kiddie porn, to a sort of prostitution they call “flirty fishing”– using young women to seduce men into the cult, or out of their money. They have been run out of the U.S. and Europe, and are mostly based out of communes in South America and South East Asia.
Still, I love this photo because I find photos of people involved in stupid behavior entertaining. I asked the Fang why she liked it and she simply replied– “because it’s sick”.
Rev. Julius Cheeks
The Sensational Nightingales- Charles Brown impersonating June Cheeks.
Sensational Nightingales, late 50’s promo photo.
Mid-sixties solo album, sharkskin suits for Jesus.
June Cheeks with the Sensational Nightingales, at his peek.
Early solo single, Holy Wine Spo-Dee-O-Dee.
I just can’t seem to stay off the subject of screaming. Why is it that I love to listen to folks screaming so much? Personally, I never scream. Nor does my wife. In fact she almost never even raises her voice, save for those times she falls down the stairs (the stairs in this house are very slippery, I fall down them myself quite regularly). Anyway, you may have to ask Sigmund Freud why I enjoy to hearing musical screams, but it doesn’t a genius to tell you who the greatest musical screamers of them all were. The greatest screams came from those singers that came out of the Church Of God In Christ, and of those singers there are two who have gone down in history as the greatest of the screamers. One was Archie Brownlee of the Five Blind Boys Of Mississippi, who literally shouted himself to death, his lungs wracked by pneumonia, he passed away on tour with the Five Blind Boys in New Orleans back in 1960 at the tender age of thirty five. The other was Reverend Julius “June” Cheeks– born August 7, 1929 in Spartanberg, South Carolina, (the same town that begat Ira Tucker of the Dixie Hummingbirds) who will always best remembered as the hard shouting frontman for the Sensational Nightingales at their peak.
Cheeks was born into poverty, one of thirteen children, his mother, a widow known to all as “Big Chick” Cheeks, picked cotton to raise her brood. Julius, known from childhood as June, dropped out of the second grade to join his mother in the fields, a tough way to get by– “It was bad, man. We didn’t have a clock, we told time by the sun. We didn’t eat right, we lived off fatback and molasses”, he told Anthony Heilbut for his classic volume The Gospel Sound: Good News and Bad Times (revised edition: Limelight Editions, 1985). He went through life illiterate, although he could sign his name. He would listen to the recorded Bible on massive stack of 78’s and eventually be ordained in the Church Of Holiness Science out of Detroit. As a teenager he heard local bluesman Blind Boy Fuller, and on a neighbors’ radio his favorite spiritual groups– the Soul Stirrers, the Dixie Hummingbirds, and the Fairfield Four. In the mid-1940’s June joined a local group called the Baronets and in 1946 they found themselves opening a bill for the Five Blind Boys Of Mississippi and the Sensational Nightingales. Cheeks was working in a filling station at the time. June Cheeks took the stage in his finest clothes– overalls with patches sewn over the holes. When the Sensational Nightingales left town the next day they took June with them, he would become their new lead singer. To Archie Brownlee, who was also on the bill that night, up to that time, unquestionably king of the house wrecking shouters, a man who could cause an entire audience to “fall out” when he hit his blood curdling scream in the Five Blind Boys’ version of The Lord’s Prayer–, Cheeks was his only compitition–“Don’t nobody ever give me any trouble but June Cheeks. That’s the only trouble I have, that’s the baddest nigger on the road”. The Nightingales manager rehearsed the group from nine in the morning until late afternoon until Cheeks was ready to take the stage. It was an impressive group with hard shouting tenor singer Paul Owens, guitarist Jo Jo Wallace (who wore an Esquerita styled pompadour atop his dome, and was known for his wild stage antics, he said, when looking back on his career with the Nightingales– “I was Chuck Berry and Little Richard and Jo Jo, rolled into one”), Carl Coates singing bass (husband to the great Dorothy Love Coates), were all in the group at the time. To this, Julius Cheeks added his thundering baritone lead, and his own wild stage antics. He’d run up and down the aisles, fall down on his knees, tell corny jokes— “I cut the fool so bad”. He was much criticised for his showmanship at the time, but the audience loved it. He was the hardest working man in the business. And along with the aforementioned Dorothy Love Coates, one of the few gospel singers to vocally back the Civil Rights movement at a time (late 40’s/early 50’s) when such expressions of free speech could be dangerous for one who toured the south constantly.
Life on the Gospel Highway was not an easy one. Once Cheeks found his group stranded in Miami with only fifty cents in his pocket. “I just went and threw mine (fifty cents) as far as it could go into the Atlantic”. To support his family– a wife, two kids, and Big Chick back in South Carolina, he joined the Soul Stirrers for two years in the early fifties (“I was the one caused Sam Cooke to sing hard. I gave him his first shout”) before returning to the Sensational Nightingales in time to cut a string of classic records for Don Robey’s Peacock label out of Houston. From 1952-1959 he led them through a string of spine tingling discs, including such classics as Blood Of Jesus, Morning Train, Savior Don’t Pass Me, What Would You Give, I Want To Go which featured Jo Jo’s rocking guitar riffs, To The End, Standing At The Judgement (which Hank Ballard and the Midnighters would re-write as the rocker What Is This I See), and his greatest recorded moment– Burying Ground. As near as I can figure, Peacock released at least eighteen singles and five LP’s on the Sensational Nightingales on which Julius Cheeks sang lead. Not long ago, attempting to engage me in conversation, a person volunteered the opinion that Graham Nash was the “greatest harmony singer of all time”. Hey, I like the Hollies a little, and I like the Beach Boys and the Byrds a lot, but when people tell me that those groups are “great harmony singers”, I just want to laugh. They’re good singers, sure, and they made some great records, no doubt. But if you want to hear great harmony singing. I mean great, as in as good as it could possibly get– listen to Carl Coates’ bass parts on the above discs, then listen to the subtle, restrained introduction on Blood Of Jesus, and listen to the way they build the intensity to the screaming finale of Burying Ground.
Few “rock’n’roll” records have rocked this hard. Just listen. Then try and talk to me about Graham Nash being “great”. You will know why I’m laughing. And why I don’t like to talk about music with many people anymore. Opinions are like assholes, everyone has one, and they all stink of shit. I include myself in that summation, heck, I still listen to Mott The Hoople on occassion (to say nothing of Menster Phips and the Phipsters).
June Cheeks left the the Sensational Nightingales in late 1959, put in a year with the Mighty Clouds Of Joy (who later went on to record a tribute LP to Cheeks), then began a solo career, releasing at least nine singles on Peacock, a few of these billed his backing group as the Sensational Knights, I assume to purposefully confuse matters. Of these solo discs, my favorite is the bluesy Holy Wine, a Cheeks original which puts the anti-booze faction of church folk in their place, since, sighting two episodes in the New Testament where Christ himself made and served wine (first at the wedding and again at the Sermon On The Mount). Good enough for Jesus, good enough for June. Cheeks admits on the road he “had myself a time”, and that he liked to drink. The flipside of Holy Wine– Tomorrow’s Sun, was a screaming rocker with a pounding boogie piano part that could have off of a Jerry Lee Lewis Sun record. Cheeks kept up his solo career, as well as preaching, until the end. Of all the 60’s soul singers he inspired, only Wilson Pickett admitted publicly just how much he had taken from this man. Toward his final days his voice was a hoarse rasp, he had literally shredded his vocal chords screaming night after night. He had worn himself out, when he died in 1981 in Newark, N.J., he was only 51 years old. To this day, no one has ever sang harder, or left a greater legacy.
A video clip (its embedding disabled) from his solo career backed by the Sensational Nights can be found here.




























