Raiding Hannah's Stash: An Appreciation of late '90s Bubblegum Music
by Peter Bagge

Back in Early 1997 I was in negotiating a "development deal" with MTV, the goal of which was to turn convert my comic book. HATE. into an animated TV show. Seeing how I hadn't watched MTV in ages (I was pushing 40 by then, so what do you expect?) I decided it might be a good idea to do some marathon viewing, in order to re-familiarize myself with who I was dealing with. What torture. Never mind their non-music vid programming (all of which was unbearable, with the exception of Beavis and Butthead), but the videos had me squirming in pain as well. I recall three distinct varieties of "musical entertainment" that were dominating the airwaves at the time:

"Rap": Which had become almost exclusively of the "gangsta" variety, in which both the male and female rappers would wave a threatening finger at me and talk about what bad ass muthafuckuhs they are and totally trash the opposite sex in a way that most people outgrow when they’re 12 while sporting hideous, ill-fitting jogging outfits;

"Alternative": Always white, usually male, always wearing throwaway t-shirts and pants, always WHINING WHINING WHINING about who knows what and WHO CARES? And always sung with that same harsh, nasal "I don't take anything seriously so fuck everyone anyway" attitude as the band pogos up and down and bangs out their Ramones riffs (or else they'd be doing that Nirvana/Who routine of quiet, achy-voiced verse followed by loud, anthemic chorus. Yawn);

Followed by the worst "genre" of all:

"Chick Singers": self-obsessed, overly-dramatic Divas, regardless of whether they can skyrocket up and down the scales like Mariah and Whitney, whisper and mince like an affected child (i.e.: Jewel), or dish out yet more punk "attitude," only combined with lots of hammy, theatrical gestures and body hugging (Alanis Morrisette, Hole). I'm sure that 1997 -- along with every year of the past decade -- was being proclaimed "The Year of the Woman" by some music industry trade mag, only based on what I was witnessing this was not good news.

Then I saw The Spice Girls.

That's when I realized it wasn't just "me" that was the problem. It wasn't that I was "too old" to appreciate or "get into" pop music anymore. No, the problem was that all these other, more critically acclaimed "serious" acts all SUCKED. They were BORING, on top of being unoriginal. Plus they reeked of self-importance. They all needed to go away. They and their admirers needed to be punished.

And OH! how the Spice Girls tortured and vexed these people! By the time I was actually working at MTV that summer, people were routinely shocked and repulsed by my Love For The Spice Girls. "There are some things you ought to keep to yourself," one co-worker and close friend whispered to me once, with only my own best interests in mind. An allegedly "hip" and intelligent young "development gal" almost hit the ceiling when I told her I'd much rather listen to "Wannabe" than the godawful Radiohead video she was forcing me to watch. "Peter," she said, patiently filling me in on the Sad Facts, " I SAW the Spice Girls perform LIVE at the MTV Awards Show, and they were TERRIBLE: They can't sing, they can't dance -- and they're all FAT!"

Six months later all of these people each owned the complete line of Spice Girl dolls. I guess "fat" was "in" all of the sudden.

I like that the Spice Girls are "fat" (actually, not only are they all built very differently from each other, they're also built like women are NATURALLY built -- as opposed to gym-rats like Madonna, who spends hours of each day of her life trying to make her body resemble a MAN'S). I also like that their personalities have been simplified and boiled down to five easily recognizable cartoon characters (although I HATE the way Geri "Ginger" Haliwell now publicly resents this totally practical marketing ploy in the same way that that hypocritical crybaby John Lennon spent the rest of his ex-Beatle life complaining about). I like that they're wacky and funny and run up and down the street punching at the air and each other like The Beatles and The Monkees used to do. I like that the only thing they care about when they're on stage is to ENTERTAIN THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF THE AUDIENCE for 90 solid minutes. And I especially like their music. I LOVE their Music!

The first time I heard the song "Wannabe" I immediately wanted to hear it again. And again and again and again. This is a reaction I experienced quite often when I myself was a "teeny-bopper" in the late '60s, my ears constantly glued to a tiny transistor radio listening to "Cousin Brucie" introduce the latest release by Steppenwolf or The Cowsills (I loved 'em both!) on WABC. I still would occasionally react that way to new recordings I'd hear all throughout the '70s and '80s, though with less and less frequency. By the '90s I had forgotten what this sensation even felt like, and simply chalked it up to an AGE thing -- that "shock of the New" that we all become immune to as time goes by. The Spice Girls made me realize that this isn't entirely the case: that there IS a certain type of music that, when performed with the right kind of moxie and spirit, still thrills me to my bones and probably always will.

What's always been somewhat embarrassing for me is that the TYPE of music that routinely gets to me in this fashion is of stuff that's usually made for and marketed TO pre-teens. Specifically Girls. EIGHT YEAR OLD girls, like my daughter Hannah. This has created a what might seem like a weird "bond" or shared interest between me and my daughter (although I know of many other dads who enjoy a similar "bond" with their daughters!). Everyone always makes the same joke when they see little girls with their dads watching Spice Girls videos together: That the kids are into it for the music, while the dads are enjoying a little "T and A." The truth is that both the girls and the dads are enjoying BOTH -- the girls are totally fascinated by the S Girls (or Britney Spears’ or Monica's) sex appeal in the same way that boys their age are fascinated by Superman's strength; while if all we "dirty old men" cared about were bouncing boobies we would just lock the channel onto the USA Network and then pretend the remote was busted.

This Unity in Taste also served a pragmatic purpose: that I could march right into Tower Records and tell the clerk that the Cleopatra cassette I was buying "isn't for ME -- it's for my daughter!" Just in case they asked, that is. Which they never do. Still, it was comforting to have that info at the ready, just as I was always prepared to tell the liquor store clerk that that bottle of Bacardi 151 I was buying was "for the Old Man" back when I was still underage. As if they cared (although one time I DID share this false information with the clerk, who nearly died laughing as he rung up my illegal purchase). And as soon as Hannah expressed interest in The Spice Girls herself (all I had of the SGs up until then was a tape that a friend had made and mailed to me) I zoomed off to buy the latest release by latest '90s bubblegum teen sensation that I -- er, I mean my DAUGHTER -- was interested in.

Not that all of these new recordings hold up too well, by the way. In fact, that's the main purpose of this article: to single out the Good Stuff from the mediocre for the "uninitiated" (i.e.: the childless) amongst you who are dying to know "Who's better: The Backstreet Boys or 'NSync?" (Answer: They're both pretty lame). Allow me to work my way through my daughter's CD collection and pull out the ones that are at least worth your time and consideration.

Aqua, "Aquarium" (MCA, 1997)

This Danish foursome (two keyboardist/programmers and two singers) are responsible for that big hit "Barbie Girl" from two summers ago. Yeah, those people. And this entire CD bubbles and percolates exactly like that one does -- it's just a boom-boom-boom Eurodisco beat with Barbie Girl (Lene Grawford Nystrom) playing call and response with Rene "Ken" Dif from the first cut to the last.

I love this record. It drives most people crazy, though -- it even drives ME crazy when I'm not in the mood for it! But when I AM in an Aqua Mood I get locked into its beat and ride it on home in the same way that you could be listening to The Ramones' "Rocket to Russia" and thinking this is the best record ever made ever ever ever, while at other times it sounds like just another stupid Ramones record. I'm not even into techno or disco as a rule. I just like this record. It's got lots of great hooks and can be very funny at times as well.

Buy this at your own risk. I refuse to be held responsible.

B*witched, "B*witched" (Epic/Sony, 1998)

B*witched are "Ireland's answer to the Spice Girls": Four perky, VERY young (18-20 years old) fame-school graduates who can dance their scrawny little Gaelic hineys off, and who sing well to boot (one of the Lynch twins, Edele, sings the lead on every song, and while she has a very nice voice I find it odd that not even her sister Keavy gets to sing lead on occasion. I mean, wouldn't an identical twin have an identical singing voice?). Their dance routines, as well as their music, are a cross between the Jackson Five and Riverdance -- an unlikely and seemingly distasteful combination that actually works quite well (as anyone who's watched them perform their adorable act on that oft-repeated Disney Channel special a dozen times like I have can attest to).

Like the Spice Girls, they share songwriting credits with their producers (presumably both groups are mainly responsible for the bulk of their own super happy, cliché-ridden lyrics -- though the SGs songs are far more obsessed with sex and EGO than their more innocent Irish progeny are). Also like the SGs, their management landed one hell of a producer in Ray "Madman" Hughes, who along with arranger Martin Brannigan put together one hell of a CD. This giddy masterpiece is simply BURSTING with energy and zing from beginning to end (save for the prerequisite ballads, some of which are also wonderful -- like the ELO/Wings-ish "Oh Mr. Postman" -- and some of which just take up space). The producers of most all these '90s bubblegum records are keyboardists who "play" or "program" almost all the rhythm instruments themselves on their digital midi/DAT/AVID sampling gizmo contraptions, which are little more than $50,000 Casio players. You would think that the end result would be soulless dreck -- and it usually is, although it sure is amazing what some of the more imaginative producers can pull off working this way. "Never Giving Up," "Rollercoaster" and their big hit "C'est La Vie" all crackle and pop like nobody's business, and the way Hughes seemlessly works traditional folk instruments like fiddles and tin whistles into the mix without making them sound gimmicky is nothing short of a marvel. "Madman" Hughes is a genius!

B*witched have been monster huge in the UK and Europe for about a year now, though as of this writing they've barely cracked the top 10 over here, despite the Disney Channel's best efforts. The only logical explanation I can come up for this is their regrettable WARDROBE: they all dress in elaborately designed costumes that are always made of DENIM! It reminds me of the same dilemma the Bay City Rollers experienced 25 years ago, when they were the biggest thing going over seas but never more than an after thought in the States: maybe those silly honky Europeans have no problem with plaid tartans and Kilts, but over here that "look" implies that you might as well be performing on the Lawrence Welk show. Not that I'm repulsed by B*witched's look myself, but I'm sure "the kids" are all thinkin' that it's totally L7.

Anyhow, and in case I haven't made this plain enough already, I love this CD. Two thumbs up. Buy it.

Billie, "Honey to the B" (Virgin, 1998)

16-year-old Billie Piper is the Limey version of Britney Spears, except that she's not as cute and doesn't sing as well, which suggests a VERY aggressive management team is at work here (She does have a nice, straight-forward though nondistinctive singing voice, however). She's had four straight top ten hits in the UK since last summer, though this CD wasn't released in the US until May of this year (1999).

I was pretty disappointed in this CD when I first heard it, after much excited word of mouth by my fellow dirty old men from across the pond -- it's much more Mainstream/MOR/R&B sounding than, say, the youthful, poppy exuberance of B*witched. Kinda reminds me of Brandy's music, though thankfully without any of that I-Wanna-Be-Whitney show-off-y crap that Brandy indulges in. But after a few listens this thing has grown on me quite a bit. As far as MOR R&B goes, it's pretty dang good! Billie's producing/arranging/songwriting team of Jim Marr and Wendy Page don't have an original bone in their body, but they sure know a good groove when they steal one. This thing kind of reminds me of The Spice Girls first CD, with it's nonstop dance floor feel, though without any of the SG's in-your-face insanity. She actually sounds a lot more mellow and MATURE than the Spices, which might make her a lot more palatable to all you Spice Haters out there.

The closest thing to immaturity you'll hear on this CD is her biggest hit/ adolescent anthem "Because We Want To," which is all about doing whatever you want to exert your independence and all that claptrap. I wonder if that would include shooting up all your classmates? Don't expect this song to get much airplay in the States any time soon.

This is a good record. Nothing remarkable, but if you find it on sale you shan't feel ripped off.

Cleopatra, "Comin' Atcha" (Maverick/WB, 1998)

Cleopatra are three black teenage sisters from the UK: Cleopatra, Zainaim and Yonah Higgins. The oldest, Cleo, does almost all of the lead singing and sounds a lot like a young Michael Jackson (they even do a cover of "I Want You Back" on this CD, and it's hard to believe it's NOT Michael Jackson singing it). They also write all their own lyrics and share the songwriting credits with their various producers. In other words, these gals are bona fide talents with a long-term career in the music biz ahead of them (as far as anyone is able to predict such things, that is).

Watching these girls perform on stage is quite an other-worldly visual experience: they're all very short and wear baggy, candy-colored clothes and big floppy hats. They also have super long braided hair that twirls like helicopter blades as they spin, turn and waddle about in unison. Last year they did their outer space dancing on some Nickelodeon special, after which me and my daughter made a bee-line to the nearest record store to buy their product. Guess what? It turned out their CD "wasn't ready" for US release yet. It took MONTHS to get over here! Somebody really missed the boat on that one -- LITERALLY!

As for the music itself, it's pretty generic '90s R&B, only on the light, sweet side so the kids can swallow it. Nice enough stuff, but nothing too memorable -- save for one cut, "Thinking About You," which is quite a thing of beauty that never stops growing on me. I say buy this CD for that song alone. You at least won't be offended by the rest of the material.

BTW: Why do black R&B acts ALWAYS thank "God" on their liner notes? They always start off by thanking Him for "making it all happen" for them before they eventually get around to thanking their Jewish lawyers and Sicilian managers who really DID make it all happen. Cleopatra thank The Great God Almighty at least a half dozen times for "blessing" them with the miraculous ability to mimic Michael Jackson and twirl like Martian dervishes. It's so obnoxious -- like when some pro athlete thanks God for a big win, as if The Lord was rooting against the other team. Does God HATE all the acts that DIDN'T land a major label record deal? Apparently so! Acts that put out records on penniless Indie labels should start CURSING God on their record sleeves for "NOT blessing them" and for "NOT making it all happen." Or they could just thank Satan, though I suppose hundreds of heavy metal bands have probably done that already.

Hanson, "Middle of Nowhere" (Mercury, 1997)

This is the debut CD by the band that everyone was making fun of when they weren't busy making fun of the Spice Girls. This CD is an awfully polished and professional product for three teenage brothers fresh out of Tulsa, Oklahoma, due to the fact that they had plenty of time, money and help devoted to them in the form of top-rate producers and musicians backing them up. One thing that those well-paid "pros" cannot provide, however, is the hyper, unbridled teen-boy mania that comes through on here in spite of the slick production. In fact, sometimes it seems like the producers were indulging them in this regard, like with the wahwah-laden guitar solo in "Where's the Love" or the totally goofball synthesizer solo in "Madeline." I'm sure they were like kids being set loose in a candy store when they entered the recording studio ("Whoa, dude, check it out -- a BIG MUFF!"), but then, only a 15-year-old should be allowed to use those gizmos to begin with, before they attempt to do something "tasteful" with them!

Hanson Rocks. I saw them perform live, and let me tell you something, folks: They rocked like a motherfucker. Laugh all you want, but it's true. They also sing great, and in a way that only a sibling group can pull off. Theirs was the best live harmonizing I've heard since the time I saw the Beach Boys in 1973. Most of this CD is just shout-out-loud, drivin,' rockin' pop music at it's best. It also is the only CD that really IS "rock" (The rest are all various mixtures of Disco, techno and hip hop), with real guitars and drums on it -- most of which is played by the band itself. Go Hanson!

On the down side, however, is that it also has a real midwestern, John Cougar Mellancamp flavor to it -- especially when the oldest, Isaac, sings, since he's the only one whose voice had changed at the time this record was recorded. Not that there's inherently anything wrong with this, but it is cause for concern re: where they're heading musically in the future, since they do have very Middle-American cornfed sensibilities (again, not unlike Mellancamp). The ballads on this CD, while perfectly harmless, suggest that there won't be much to recommend of them once they outgrow their hyper adolescence. In fact, they could wind up looking and sounding indistinguishable from the likes of Michael Bolton!

It's been quite a while since they released anything new as well, so I'm filled with apprehension once something new by them DOES come out! Oh well, we shall see. But no matter what happens to them down the road this CD will remain a rock and roll classic forever. Buy it and give it a listen if you don't believe me.

Their only other releases besides this one are a Christmas CD entitled "Snowed In" and a collection of early demo tapes called "Three Car Garage." "Snowed" is one of the most enjoyable Xmas albums ever made, and I heartily recommend it for some sure-fire rockin' holiday good cheer. "Three Car" is a must to avoid, however. Sure, it's a pretty impressive demo from a group that features a 10-year-old drummer, but it's still a DEMO. Demos should be BURNED before some dipshit "fan" decides to make a bootleg out of them, or a greedy label decides to use it to rip off their gullible public (i.e.: me).

"NOW" Compilation (EMI, 1998)

This is a "This Year's Biggest Hits All On One CD!"-type compilation that you can only order by phone via it's relentless TV commercials. My daughter wrote down the 1-800 number and handed it to her mom, instructing her to dial it a.s.a.p. She wanted Today's Biggest Hits and she wanted them NOW, Goddammit! Who were we to argue?

Anyone who's listened to a day's worth of top 10 radio in the last couple of years knows half of these songs already: Hanson's "Mmm Bop," The Spice Girls' "Say You'll Be there," etc. Some of these hits I like just fine, such as Janet's retro-'70s disco tune "Together Again," and the Backstreet Boys' "As Long As You Love Me" (which is pretty much the ONLY BSB song I like). Unfortunately, there's an awful lot of "alternative" gunk on here as well, which grates even more than usual when pressed up against songs like the ones mentioned above. The only tolerable ones are "alterna-beatle"-type bands like Fastball and Harvey Danger (think John Lennon at his most nasally and cynical). The latter band features a guy who used to work in the production department for my publisher here in Seattle. One day he's attaching page numbers to my comic book for minimum wage, and the next day my kid is ordering his record off of Nickelodeon. What a wacky world.

This comp also has one gem I've never heard before: "Never Ever," by a British all-girl singing group called All Saints. This slow, gospel-ly tune has a real early-'60s-Shadow Morton girl group feel to it. I didn't think much of it at first, but MAN has it grown on me since then. It just sucks you right in like a vacuum cleaner. I don't even know if you can still buy this CD anymore, but if you ever come across it used and cheap then pick it up for this song alone.

"Sabrina The Teenage Witch -- The Album!" (Geffen, 1998)

This compilation has contributions by all the latest hot teen sensations (inc. an otherwise unavailable track by the Spice Girls, which made it a must-have item in the Bagge household). The only connection that it has to the TV show are the photos of Melissa Joan Hart's smirky face all over the sleeve, as well as her own uninspired rendition of Blondie's "One Way Or Another."

Aside from that and a few other note-for-note covers of '70s classics (Matthew Sweet does a why-bother remake of "Magnet and Steel," while current hit-miesters Sugar Ray give Steve Miller's "Abracadabra" the kereoke treatment), this CD has a few real doozies on it: good cuts by Aqua, Britney Spears, the Murmurs, the Cardigans, and The Spice Girls (of course!). Plus the otherwise annoying Ben Folds Five turn in their best song by far with the rousing "Kate" --though Mr. Folds still comes close to ruining even this song with that smarmy "look at me, I'm being clever ovah heah!" singing style of his, to go along with that bangy Billy Joel (another long-time sufferer of cleveritis)-style piano playing that I hate. This is a classic example of ruining a perfectly pretty song in order to hang on to your "indy cred" -- something I thing a lot of indy rockers are bound to regret someday, if they don't already.

Black-sounding blondie girl Robyn is also featured with "Show Me Love," her slinky smash from a few summers ago. This song was co-written and produced by the Swedish hit-making team of Max Martin and the recently departed Denniz Pop. These two Scandihoovians are also responsible for just about every major hit by all the "O-Town" acts (Britney, Backstreet Boys, 'NSync). These guys are probably the most successful songwriters of the '90s by far, in spite of the fact that no one's ever heard of them. While I enjoy a lot of their tunes (like this one), it's hard for me to think of myself as a "fan" of theirs, since they hit the mark with a little TOO much ease. In other words, their sensibilities are just too middle-of-the-road and mainstream for me. I like at least a LITTLE bit of personality and quirkiness to go with my pop schmaltz!

The low points on this CD for me are all the New Kids-clone boy groups, who's contributions here show them all doing what they do worst: macho-posturing rap and hip-hop. I simply can't buy into these obvious nancy-boys trying to make like they're street toughs. "Ruff Tuff Cream Puffs," I calls 'em! They should stick to the ballads, in my opinion, though my wife thinks these songs are adorable, especially the UK outfit Five's laughable theme song "Slam Dunk Da Funk" (also written by those high-fivin' homeboys from Stockholm, Martin and Pop. Can you imagine those two Squareheads sitting at home "composing" this thing in their Swedish country kitchen, while they're gettin' jiggy wit' their lutafisk?).

Adults seem to do a flip flop from the sexual identifying of our youth -- My daughter has little interest in male singers and acts, just as I rarely bought anything that was sung by a female when I was a kid. Now it's the opposite, with my wife cranking up any tune that's sung by some hunky 18-year-old (one of the members of Five even goes by the name of "Abs"), while I sit there jealously calling the singer a "sissy" and a "faggot," even when I'm secretly enjoying the record myself.

Anyhow, "Sabrina" is a surprisingly good sampler, and Tower sells it at some super low price. Check it out if it's still in stock.

Savage Garden, "Savage Garden" (Sony, 1997)

These two Aussies wear mascara, and the singer, Darren Hayes, sings in this real affected '80s-style voice. Plus they're called "Savage Garden." Talk about your sissy faggots! I would love to run them over in my Subaru if I ever got the chance, only some of their songs are brilliant; real nice beat ballads like the hit "Madly Truly Deeply" (they're love songs, yet they have a steady, toe-tapping beat to 'em, so I call them "beat ballads." What am I supposed to call 'em?). "Universe" is an especially pretty tune, very Smokey Robinson, with great harmonizing on the chorus by Mr. FruityPants Hayes. Their attempts at noisy, upbeat disco numbers are annoying, however, so this gets only half a rousing thumbs up.

Buy it used.

Britney Spears, "Britney Spears" (Jive/Zomba, 1999)

Britney Spears is literally the new Annette Funichello, since not only is she a sexy sweetheart whom all of America is in love with, but she also was a Mousekateer on the "NEW Mickey Mouse Club" show! Unlike the monotoned Annette, however, she has an incredible singing voice. She goes from peeping like a tweetie bird to growling like a grizzly bear all in the same verse! This could a bad sign, however, since once she outgrows her teenybobber status I'll bet you dollars to donuts she's gonna be tempted to give Celine, Mariah and Whitney a run for their money in the show-off-y diva drama queen sweepstakes.

Another problem for Miss Spears is that she has no stage presence whatsoever. She's not a natural dancer either, which makes me wonder why she's obliged to perform dance steps at all. Just let her stand there and sing! Actually she always looks like she just wants to go home or run into the bathroom to throw up whenever she performs on TV -- all the more perverse that she recently got these insane looking breast implants to complete her "look." Just imagine Dolly Parton's boobies on a twelve year old girl and you'll get the picture. What was her management THINKING?!?

And that brings us to yet another bad sign: she's managed by the Orlando-based hit-making machine called "O-Town," who also assembled and controls the Backstreet Boys and their interchangeable clones 'NSync (along with many other "future stars" who are currently being groomed at their "finishing school"). All of these acts are super huge at the moment, which led one of O-Town's odd-couple founders (fatso billionaire and Chippendales Dancers mogul Lou "Call Me Big Poppa" Pearlman) to start promoting himself as the Berry Gordy/Don Kirshner/Neil Bogart of the '90s -- much to the chagrin of his partner, the black "jesus freak" and former Maurice Starr gopher Johnny Wright. Ever since then these two egomaniacs have been suing the daylights out of each other, much to the delight of the rest of the music industry.

The thing is, at least Gordy and even Kirshner had a certain style and sensibility that permeated everything they touched. They could lay claim to a certain style or innovation that was all their own, while the O-Towners have savvy and street hustle going for them and nothing more. While originality has never ruled supreme in teeneybopperland, literally EVERYTHING their charges do is completely by-the-book. Their boy groups in particular are TOTALLY generic from head to toe: looking and moving EXACTLY like The New Kids On The Block (whom Wright used to chauffeur), while harmonizing EXACTLY like Boyz 2 Men (or trying to). And while this song or that may be tolerable, the music is WAY too bland and generic. It just sits there, like your Aunt Edna's meatloaf. Sure it's edible, but it's nothing to drive miles out of your way for.

The same goes for most of the material on Britney's debut CD, sadly. Pretty bland stuff. There are a few exceptions, like the megahit "Baby One More Time" and it's carbon copy follow up "(You Drive Me) Crazy;" as well as the super bouncy "Soda Pop," with a great Jamaican-style back-up vocal by some guy named Mikey Bassie. Some of the other tracks she's able to save with her amazing double and triple track vocalizing, but not always. I say buy this if you find it on sale in the cut out bin (which it will be filling up in a year or two, believe me), but don't pay full price for it.

BTW: There are a few incredibly crass things about this CD that I have to make mention of: one is that it ends with an infomercial for the new Backstreet Boys CD, narrated by Britney herself! It also has an order form for all sorts of Britney merchandise, even though this is her debut album (although I can't blame her handlers for their optimism, greedy slobs though they may be). Finally, the back cover has all this small print, technical-type info explaining what "plug-ins" you'll need to play it on either a PC or an Apple CD Rom disk drive! I suppose this is to be expected on a CD that features a ballad called "E-Mail My Heart," but it even has all these tiny logos and copyright marks for said plug-ins next to the text (at first I thought "Quick Time" was the name of the subsidiary label this record was on!). In fact, this CD cover and booklet is LOUSY with logos and trademarks. Everyone wants a piece of Britney, apparently. Perverts!

Spice Girls, "Spice" (Virgin, 1996)

This debut CD sold half a billion copies worldwide, so chances are you're already familiar with half of it without even knowing it (then again, maybe not, since most of you SCRAM readers can do a damn good job of cloistering yourself away from "mainstream society" when you want to, myself included).

The anthemic megahit "Wannabe" kicks things off with a bang, and this cut pretty much sums up the Girls' whole shtick in a nutshell: high energy; sexually liberated; be true to your galpals; etc. My kid and her galpals all played this song five hundred thousand times in a row when they first brought it home, so it obviously had the same impact on them that "Hound Dog," "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" and "God Save The Queen" had on previous generations of impressionable youth.

None of the rest of the songs on this CD have the same impact or immediacy as "Wannabe," but it's all enjoyable, goes-down-easy fare nonetheless. In fact, most of it has a very '70s R&B feel to it: "Something Kinda Funny" sounds a lot like Chic, "Love Thing" is Emotion doing Earth, Wind and Fire (Melanie "Sporty" Chisolm even opens it with a very Maurice White-type "OWW!"), and "Say You'll Be There" is pure Stevie Wonder, complete with harmonica solo. All five Spices must have been weaned on a steady diet of American R&B, since even lily-white Emma "Baby Spice" Bunton can dish up some surprisingly soulful ad lib warblings.

Throw in a couple of slutty ballads, along with the embarrassingly sentimental-yet-highly hummable piece of Euro-drivel "Mama," and there you have it: A multi-platinum MONSTER. I'd recommend this CD to anyone who's inclined towards liking the SG's shtick in general. If not, then skip it. I don't want to here about it later.

Spice Girls: "SpiceWorld" (Virgin, 1997)

This is one of the most amazing album/CDs I've ever heard. Every song has a completely different groove or "feel" to it, yet they all have that high-fructose effervescence that you'd expect from a "teenybopper" outfit like the SGs. The same goes for its uber-positive, egocentric lyrics and themes, which could be summed up by their titles alone ("Spice Up Your Life," "Do It", "Never Give Up on The Good Times").

The production on this CD is awe-inspiring, with the dueling producing/songwriting teams of Stannard and Rowe vs. Watkins and Wilson (AKA "Absolute") trying to outdo each other on each successive cut. At the risk of sounding like the teenaged pothead that I once was, this record is also the most mind-blowing HEADPHONE LISTENING experience I've heard since the Beach Boys' "Surf's Up" or 10cc's "Sheet Music," due to the layered intricacies of the music and the treatment given to the vocals. This CD is a MUST HAVE ITEM for anyone who appreciates lush harmonies as much as I do. I think the Girls' own self-effacing humor is primarily responsible for this permanently accepted notion that "the Spice Girls can't sing," (though God bless 'em for never wasting their time bickering with their own critics). Ginger even claims that she can barely sing on key, though she herself has a very endearing raspy, lisping singing voice. While the state-of-the-art production facilities employed here (and which every major label singing act ALSO uses) certainly didn't hurt, nothing can take away from the fact that this record has GREAT singing on it! Vicki "Posh" Adam's and Mel "Scary" Brown both have very deep voices (Mel B's low growl even gets down into BARITONE range at times), so while Emma's voice is riding on top with her flowery flutterings along with the amazing Mel C's ear-piercing punctuation marks, the rest of them fill out their harmonies with a rich, earthy fullness that sounds more like Spice WOMEN than Spice "girls."

Bunton and Chisolm also have two of the most distinctive, radio-friendly voices I've ever heard: as soon as either of them utters a line over the air you know you're hearing a new SGs song. (Though it surprises me how reluctant US radio stations STILL are about playing the Spice Girls. Their success over here is due almost entirely to TV and word-of-mouth -- Radio has rendered itself irrelevant strictly out of spite). Believe me, it takes a lot more than clever marketing to sell a zillion records -- just think of all the countless "pretty faces" in the history of the music business who've tried and FAILED. Most of my all-time favorite singing groups have had two lead singers with voices that contrast yet compliment each other: John and Paul, Brian and Mike, Roger and Pete, Maurice and Philip of Earth Wind and Fire, Allan Clark and Graham Nash of the Hollies, etc. The Spice Girls have Emma and Mel C.

I recommend this CD to everyone. If you buy it and still don't like it then I'd suggest you crawl into your sad little cubbyhole and listen to your wretched Bob Dylan (or Lou Reed or Nick Cave) records one last time before putting a bullet through your miserable fucking head.

Other SG items: Their CD singles are hit or miss. The "Stop" single includes a bunch of extended dance mixes of the same song that all suck.... The "Goodbye" single (their only release as of this writing sans Geri) has a great cover of the Waitresses' "Christmas Wrapping," but it also includes live versions of "We are Family" and "Sisters Are Doing It For Themselves." Good versions, mind you, but GOD do those songs suck. "Goodbye" itself (an insincere sounding "farewell" to Geri) is pretty insipid, though it does feature nice harmonies.

"Spiceworld" is a super entertaining movie that holds up to repeated viewing. Unfortunately, a lot of people who enter that film preparing to hate it exit hating it as well. Go fucking figure...

The "Live in Istanbul" Video is a MUST. This the greatest concert film EVER! And what makes it better by leaps and bounds over the more recent "Live at Wembley" concert video is that the latter doesn't have Ginger Spice. The Spice Universe has been thrown irrevocably out of whack since her departure, sadly. Ginger may have been the worst singer and dancer of the bunch, but she also was the best "Spice Girl" by far. I defy anyone to watch this Istanbul tape and then tell me to my face that she isn't completely BONKERS. She truly was (is?) a mad, inspired, and dangerous woman. 10 times more "punk" than Johnny Rotten. A zillion times sexier than stupid ol' Madonna. Geri Haliwell may be a big bore now, but "Ginger Spice" was the most unlikeliest -- and therefore the GREATEST-- "rock star" that ever lived.

There are those who look askance at people who buy records from the Salvation Army quarter bin. These are the same folks who buy Primus CDs new, so I don't really feel any need to be embarrassed over my grubby vinyl rooting fingers. They can look down their noses all they like, because they're stupid and would never understand.

But you do. You know that the best records are the most fucked up records. That Black Oak Arkansas says more to you than Guns ‘N Roses ever could. That Word Records of Waco, Texas (feature story forthcoming) outshines Dischord for sheer consistence of creative vision. And that Andy Williams' version of "God Only Knows" carries a cringe factor so high that root canal would almost be preferable to a second listen.

But these are common discoveries; delightful, but not rare. There are also records so incredible that when you find one it's like you've unearthed a ruby in a dung-hill. One such album was bought by Mister Grady Runyan in the Pacific Northwest. The name of that record is "Side by Side 75."

The year was indeed 1975, and the Southland Corporation had just had the best year in its history. President Jere W. Thompson called his managers together for a gigantic blow-out convention. He wanted to thank them, and their families, for the fine jobs they were doing upholding the 7-Eleven standard of quality. As an extra special treat, Thompson commissioned The Stanford Agency to compose a live musical as the climax of the convention. The Stanford Agency gave Larry Muhoberac, a genius, the task of writing this musical.

Even if you've never crawled naked down Sunset Blvd. for a Coca-Cola Slurpee, this record will touch you in a special place. It elegantly spells out the unique attributes of America's favorite convenience store with an insider's perception that is probably new to you. So not only is the music great, but the record is also a learning experience. Admit it: you never gave much thought to what it was like behind the counter of a mini-mart. Or even if you did pull the midnight-to-six shift a few times in high school, you failed to get into the head-space of the store's owner-manager. But maybe you should have, because to judge by the frantic overcompensation on "Side By Side 75," the owner-managers--at least at this stage in Southland's development--were ready to go on a mass killing spree at the corporate headquarters. The convention and musical were clearly meant to unruffle some seriously disordered tail feathers and to spread a corporate message of love and togetherness.

Did it work? Let's examine the evidence. "Oh Thank Heaven," the first number, is described in the liner notes as "a musical happening!" (Remember, this is 1975, not 1966.) And it really is a happening of sorts, with its oscillating electronic waves and inspired chants of "Everybody's doing it," "Save on everything," "If it's not around the house it's just around the corner," "Hot to go,","Oh thank heaven for 7-Eleven," and the ever popular "Drink cups, drink cups." Sort of a nightmarish melange of all the advertising slogans you thought you'd forgotten, as performed by K-Tel's version of Kraftwerk. If I had a reel-to-reel player I'd examine this song for subliminal messages: "You will sit quietly in your seat and not launch yourself at Jere's throat..."

"What Would We Do Without You/Side By Side" purports to be "an exciting medley of two great musical numbers [that] sets the pace of the show as well as the theme for our 1975 Convention. The two song titles along with the lyrics really do say what we all feel... that we're all in this together. What would we do without each other?" Probably have much lower blood pressure. A terrible, off-key male voice intones, "If we have a dis-a-GREE-ment/ You bring the CEE-ment/ I'll bring the glue." Because while "we're gonna gripe/ And maybe complain/ Believing in each other/ That is our aim." There follows a spoken litany of managerial complaints: "You know, sometimes these corporate guys do have some pretty nifty ideas... some times;" "For years I thought our merchandizing manager knew what he was doing." "Where'd you get that idea?" "Beats me."; "Talk about corporate ideas--the only thing good about Hot To Go is the name... but who's gonna eat the name?" And yet all gripes are just so much dryer lint in the wind as a cheery chorus pipes in with Southland's credo: "Togetherness is what we're after/ From now on we'll just hear laughter/ Side by side by side." The tap dance percussion is an especially welcome touch. Snork...yeah, this number always breaks me up.

"Ring Them Bells" is, simply, "a story about a guy who looked all over the world for his niche, a place to do his thing. And after all that searching he found it in the form of a little 7-Eleven store right back in his home town." The young man's adventures are rattled off at breakneck speed, with my favorite being the quite incomprehensible statement (with appropriate sound effects) that, "then he ran a cafe up in Washington state/ But then the blue plate special broke and so he broke the blue plate." After failing in Washington he tries Alaska, and it's there that he has a near epiphany upon seeing a bright red and green 7-Eleven sign looming over the tundra. Touching, ain't it?

If there's a hit single on "Side By Side 75," it must be "I'm Not Getting Married." Imagine, if you dare, the most shrill, irritating female voice you've ever heard. Something like Kate Smith's bellow mixed with Phyllis Diller's "wacky" enunciation and Charles Nelson Reilly's staccato phrasing. Can you hear it? Is your spine twitching? Good. Now multiply that feeling tenfold and you have the effect of the singer of "I'm Not Getting Married," who is either Lette Rehnolds or Nancy Meyers. The song alternates between saccharine sweet evocations of the holy bond between an owner-manageress and her store, and the cold-footed bride's frantic attempts to talk herself out of the "marriage." The male counterpoint effuses, "Bless this day woman joins the store/ Benefits galore." But Lette-Nancy is having none of it, and spouts her distaste in no uncertain way. Since she doesn't want to open a 7-Eleven, she is of course just another hysterical female, "Bless this girl totally insane/ Slipping down the drain/ And bless this swain in whose heart/ She has caused such pain." Lette-Nancy spits back, "Go, won't you go? Look you know I adore you all but why must I try for a wholesale ratio?... I don't like ice cream, I hate cottage cheese, I don't like kids, I hate green peas. Thank you all for the training school, thanks a lot but I'm no fool... I'M NOT GONNA DO IT!" But when the wedding bells chime in Lette-Nancy's sentiment gets the best of her, "Well, I guess I'm gonna do it." And a heavenly choir looks up from their chili dogs to bless the union..."Amen."

Of course "SBS 75" wouldn't be complete without an interminable rock opera. "Another Hundred People Just Came into the Store" is "a ‘today' statement about our stores and our company's history." It is also funky as an old pair of shorts, and sung to the tune of "Ode to Billy Joe." The chain's history is spelled out in verse: from Jody Thompson's Texas ice dock of 1927 through the mass birth of identical 7-Eleven stores along the East coast and all across America. The best lyrics are in the "interesting business" section; let me share some with you. "A half a dozen kids who collected the cups/ They just happened by/ So they moseyed around/ Making that Slurpee sound/ Really slurping it down." "It's an interesting business/ Some come to leave some to stay/ And everyday/ The ones who stay are frolicking (?!) in the split pea soup and the dairy vault/ Selling hot to go with a pretty smile/ ‘Hey lady, where's the salt?'/ The slurp machine's broken and the bread's not here/ It's not my fault!" And, "I'm coming and going when I change the shift we meet at the door/ Then I hired a guy who was born to drift, left with half the store... /But I love the business anyway, now isn't that great?"

The last two numbers are pretty disposable. An exceptionally irritating song called "It's You" ("It's not Judy Garland or Spanky McFarland/ It's you!") sounds like the kind of music they play in Farrell's ice cream parlors, and the performance closes with that old campfire favorite "We've (?) Got the Whole World in Our Hands."

It doesn't matter. The first five songs are enough to earn "SBS 75" the title of thrift store find of the decade. "Side By Side 75" is insidiously catchy. If you ever hear it you'll soon be singing its verses to the horror of anyone unfortunate enough to be near you. And yet, as connoisseurs of bad taste we feel compelled to make this offer: if you really want to hear this unbelievable artifact, send us a blank cassette (a C60 is fine) and return postage and we'll make you a copy. But don't say we didn't warn you about the brain damage that will result. If you've ever needed Tampax and a cream soda at 3 a.m., this record speaks to you. Indeed, it speaks to us all. (this appreciation originally appeared in Scram #1, Summer 1992. Free tape offer no longer available-- god knows where the damn thing is today!)

Many moons ago I found the courage to go public with my Strawberry Shortcake & Friends record collection and knick-knack fetish. Once I was out, flocks of secret Strawberry fans came out of their own closets to share rare specks of information about the series. I was thrilled to learn that Flo & Eddie (AKA Mark Volman and Howard Kaylan, late of the Turtles) were responsible for my favorite Strawberry Shortcake albums.

It was an honor to get the chance to speak with Mark Volman about his experiences producing the Strawberry Shortcake & Friends records between 1980-83, and how he and Howard got involved in writing music for children.

Scram: Hello Mr. Volman. Thanks for talking with me! Just a few questions for you, if you don’t mind? Who started Kid Stuff Records? How did you and Howard get involved with them to make music for Strawberry Shortcake & Friends records? And where are the Kid Stuff record people now?

Mark Volman: The animators for the Frank Zappa film 200 Motels that we were involved with were doing the animation for the television shows The World of Strawberry Shortcake and Strawberry Shortcake in Big Apple City. They asked us to audition for the job of creating the soundtrack music via the company creating the Strawberry Shortcake cartoons, which was American Greetings. A production company out of Florida called Those Characters From Cleveland was producing records on the Kid Stuff Records label at the time. We pitched them our ideas and they bought them. We have no idea what is up with the label now. You know, you should make a good CD copy of all of those Strawberry Shortcake vinyl records you have, because who knows where the master tapes are?! We don’t own any of that stuff.

Scram: Your Strawberry Shortcake records are far superior to the other Strawberry Shortcake record productions. I want to know... why?

MV: Howard and I took on the Strawberry Shortcake & Friends job because our career has never been about inroads or about just one project, but about a series of various accomplishments. We wanted to go deeper than with just “ Happy Together,” and that’s why we used our real names on the credits of each Strawberry Shortcake record we made. Back then, children’s records weren’t really a respected medium and companies weren’t used to paying people for producing something slick for kids. We wanted to do something different with children’s records and provide positive messages. At the same time, we didn’t try to save money in our TV Show soundtrack recordings. We brought in the original voice of Strawberry Shortcake from the TV show and tried to keep all the other actors, and we charged Kid Stuff a lot of money to do that. Strawberry Shortcake was so popular in 1980-81 that a huge balloon of her led the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. And they used our song on the float, the Strawberry Shortcake theme song from the TV show that goes “Who sleeps all night in a cake made of strawberry?” all the way down 5th Avenue! Making those records wasn’t easy; it was a challenge. We were confined by what the TV Shows had to give us. However, it opened up other opportunities. We sold five or six million copies of those Strawberry Shortcake records, and at a time when children’s music wasn’t fashionable! We wanted to try to make songs that kids would recognize, rhythms that would be familiar to kids even listening to them for the first time. We wanted to make songs that also just plain stood alone as good songs, regardless of if they were for kids or not—songs that a Turtles fan would love, yet always dealing with the age group we were creating for. Oh, and everyone has got to understand that nothing would have gotten accomplished on those Strawberry Shortcake records without John Hoier. He was our partner that owned Sun Swept Studios in Studio City, CA. That was the studio where we made all of our Strawberry Shortcake records. Everything was written, played, and sung by John, Howard and myself on those records.

Scram: I'm interested in your involvement with the cartoon TV show Strawberry Shortcake in Big Apple City. Did you guys write the soundtrack and the script for that?

MV: We had nothing to do with the scripts. They were all pre-written and we wrote songs to accompany the story. Howard acted as the voice of the Purple Pie Man on the records, but not on the TV show. We all acted as the Care Bears characters on the Care Bears records we produced, too.

Scram: Do you remember a particularly favorite song from any of the Strawberry Shortcake recordings? I really love the heavy Pink Floyd-ish "Big Apple City" song when Strawberry Shortcake is flying on the butterfly from Strawberryland to the city for the first time!

MV: All of the songs and records were fun to do, but I would have to say that “I Was Born To Disco” on Let’s Dance With Strawberry Shortcake is one of my favorites. Howard sang on that as the Purple Pie Man. That was a fun novelty disco record to do.

Scram: I thought the theremin you all used as the sound effect for the butterfly on The World Of Strawberry Shortcake soundtrack record was very innovative and cool! Was there a Strawberryland character that you took a shine to? The Southern belle Lemon Meringue? The little cat friend, Custard?

MV: Lemon Meringue, now, she was a cutie. But I really appreciated Strawberry Shortcake’s leadership skills. She is a real Pollyanna who sees the best through the worst of things. She’s like John Lennon. Strawberry Shortcake saw goodness in the Purple Pie Man. She’s a religious figure who understands the importance of Love Thy Neighbor. You either love that kind of person, or you hate them. Like John Denver. It’s all about positivity. Strawberryland couldn’t have existed without her. She was the center of the universe, a very enduring person to write music for. The Purple Pie Man was a real cad. Not bad, just unloved. He was misunderstood and raised badly. Strawberry Shortcake and The Purple Pie Man are the Yin/ Yang of their universe. Strawberry Shortcake music is very Rubber Soul for kids.

Scram: Okay, so what is your favorite flavor anyway? If you lived in Strawberryland, what flavor would you be? How about Howard?

MV: Anything having to do with lemons, that would be me. I’m “lemon flavored.” Howard is the Purple Pie Man. That’s who he is. The flavor of Purple Pie Man. You should know that we also made about four or five 7-inch G.I. Joe records for Kid Stuff. On those we wrote the story and script and came up with the characters. Deep war stories. The Sergeant Pepper of the genre out of all those Kid Stuff records was the G.I. Joe 7-inches. They were all full feature story-type records, not song based. John, Howard and I played all the characters.

Scram: Oh, man, I’m gonna comb the thrifts for GI Joe stuff now! Thanks for the tip. And thanks for your time. Good-bye!

MV: You can call me anytime. Bye!

Discography of Flo & Eddie Strawberry Shortcake Productions on Kid Stuff Records

… 1980 – The World Of Strawberry Shortcake
… 1981 – Strawberry Shortcake In Big Apple City
… 1982 – Strawberry Shortcake's Pet Parade
… 1983 – Let's Dance With Strawberry Shortcake

Postscript: I thought I had stockpiled every important Strawberry Shortcake recording when I wrote about the series for Roctober #24, but it seems there are always new treats to be found. Here’s the scoop on a couple of Flo and Eddie soundtrack gems that I’ve recently discovered. You can find these in any ol’ video store with a large children’s section. If you get the bug and need to acquire other Strawberry Shortcake products, look for those that star Russi Taylor as Strawberry Shortcake. Russi is the berry best, so you’ll be glad you did. All other Shortcakes are inferior hacks who pale by comparison. You have been warned!

Strawberry Shortcake’s Pet Parade
note: Flo and Eddie wrote and performed the music, and sang the songs, but did not write the lyrics for this show.

The story of this animated TV show is not as cool as Strawberry Shortcake in Big Apple City, but Pet Parade has its shining moments—for all Purple Pie Man fans, that is! The evil Purple Pie Man of Porcupine Peak, and his nemesis, the luscious madam Sour Grapes, steal the show… literally!

The story begins with Mr. Sun’s announcement that the 2nd Annual Grand Old Pettable Pet Show and Parade is about to begin. First Prize is a brand new tricycle with a special seat for pets. For some bizarro reason the prize bike is at Strawberry Shortcake’s house, and since Strawberry Shortcake and her cat Custard are going to be judges in the Pet Show, she rides the bike on a dirt trail all the way through Strawberryland to the contest. By then, the bike is used and worthless as a prize, as far as I’m concerned. Phooey!

Strawberry sings a cute Nilsson-esque song along the way that goes, “The world’s a four-leaf clover, a rainbow built for two, I’d love to give today to you. Yesterday is gone and done for, tomorrow’s still a pack of dreams. Now is the time to have some fun, for it’s later than it seems!”

Hearing this jive-talk ringing through the land, the Purple Pie Man freaks out and decides to enter his pet crow, Captain Cackle, into the pet show just to be a pest. Then, Sour Grapes and her pet snake Drags arrive in town on a trolley, and they almost run over the Pie Man. Sour Grapes and the Pie Man start to argue over which one of them is the baddest baddie in town. The fight turns into a great duet: “I’m much lower than you are. You can’t get lower than I. In a low down show down, your lawns I’d mow down. To me you’re always a pie! For I’m despicably evil. No, I’m as bad as they come. Oooh, I’m not perky when I play dirty! But, I’m the crummiest crumb. We’re both deplorable stinkers, but who is lower than whom?” All the while, Sour Grapes emits a banshee yodel that is amazing! The music is really heavy, and there's even a free jazz clarinet solo. Imagine if Alice Cooper and Ornette Coleman wrote a song together for an Addams Family episode, and you'll be close. Cool, huh? Okay, back to the story… The Purple Pie Man and Sour Grapes decide to join their evil forces to try to win the Pet Show contest together. They come up with a plan to “destroy Strawberry Shortcake with her own phonograph!” (So symbolic from a time when the CD was about to knock vinyl off the charts).

A marching tune introduces all of the characters and their pets as they file up and off the stage: Huckleberry Pie and his dog Pupcake, etc. Not too impressive. But then the bad guys sneak the phonograph under the stage. Their pets, Drags and Captain Cackle, sing a really crazy duet that impresses the audience so much that she calls for an encore. (See, the audience consists of one character, Angel Cake. She’s the only kid in town without a pet. A sub-plot explains all that and I’ll spare you the details). Drags sings in a high operatic voice, “Oh sweet strawberry of life at last I’ve found you!” and the tune immediately changes to a marching song that Cackles belts out, “Give me ten grapes to a sour hearted grape!” Then Drags sings, “I’ll be calling you, berry blue, berry blue!" And together they both sing, “I love you!” But before Angel Cake can crown the winners the record starts to skip, revealing that a Milli Vanilli-style hoax was in the works! Marvelous! Five strawberry red stars.

Let’s Dance With Strawberry Shortcake original soundtrack LP

"It’s a berry special wonderful day in Strawberryland. The day of the big dance. They’ve put up a big stage right in the town square for the big show and the star of the show is our berry own Strawberry Shortcake. Strawberryland has never been a more wonderful place to be. Everybody’s dancing as Strawberry Shortcake herself leads you through ten berry wonderful new dances. Just like Strawberry Shortcake says, “Let’s Dance.”

That’s the claim on the cover of the LP. Are you convinced? Got on your boogie shoes? Well, you’re in for a treat, because this record lives up to the hype. The first two songs, "Let’s Dance" and "The Strawberry Twist" build up momentum, but the highlight comes with "One, Two, Cha-Cha-Cha." To put it mildly, this song is genius! Strawberry Shortcake and the Cha-Cha-Cha beat even seduce and hypnotize the Purple Pie Man of Porcupine Peak. Spin this song at a party and it’ll turn your guests into dancing fools; I've seen it happen with my own eyes! As you shimmy through "The Limbo Dance," "Do The Strawberry Stomp," "The Strawberry Waltz," and "Huckleberry’s Polka," the dance floor is slowing thinning. But by the last song on Side 2, the Pie Man has become a regular Saturday Night Samurai. Like a slave to the techno siren, he makes his declaration of devotion in "I Was Born To Disco." He’s all alone on the dance floor with this one. The club has closed and everyone has gone home, but him… and Disco. Stellar.

{CLICK HERE for Neil Hamburger - The Best!}

The news of comic Neil Hamburger’s recent national tour caused a wave of excitement to sweep the states. It’s been a long time since he left the Motel 6 circuit to play larger clubs in big cities, and his fans have missed him. Strangely, in Los Angeles Neil was not appearing at the Comedy Store, Laugh Factory or Igby’s, but at the rock club Spaceland and at Over Hear, some kind of avant garde gallery space in Echo Park.

Neil’s fans didn’t let the offbeat locations keep them from seeing their fave funnyman, and the room was filled to capacity for the first performance at Spaceland. In fact, there wasn’t a parking place to be found within eight blocks, and your editrix had to avail herself of the valet if she was to make it inside before the show began. Apparently some people were there to see a rock group called Trans Am, but the front couple of rows were all Neil-o-maniacs—including movie star and comedian Jack Black, taking mental notes to improve his own act.

The excitement in the air was palpable, as people craned their necks looking for the man who had brought them so many laughs (and tears) with his recorded works. Because Neil has never sat for a proper photo session, no one was quite sure what he looked like. Had he grown haggard since his recent divorce? Would we find him at the bar?

Finally, the stage door opened and Neil himself was standing, drink in hand, surveying his crowd. He was smaller than I expected, with greasy hair in what might have been a comb-over, big thick glasses like my English uncle Dennis wears, and a mismatched dark suit with dusty loafers. Any doubts as to his identity were dispelled as soon as he opened his mouth, and that whining delivery wafted like sour magnolias over the mic.

Coughing sporadically (Neil explained “I have cancer”), he began a series of new and familiar jokes and stories that soon had the audience reacting quite violently. A blonde woman off to the right interjected regularly with comments and catcalls (more about her later), and two young men right in front of Neil yelled something that sounded like “my choice!” repeatedly. Some people were laughing, others wincing, as Neil ran through a relaxed set that touched on such subjects as Teletubby penis grafts, the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ love of heroin, Mormons and anal sex, and of course Princess Diana.

At one point Neil refused to finish a joke as a punishment for one heckler—”I’m not going to tell you the punchline, loudmouth!”—and he didn’t. When the audience pelted him with dimes, he pocketed them happily. The “my choice!” guys were getting more and more rowdy, and one of them finally moved to climb onto to short stage and accost Neil. With an athlete’s grace, Neil emptied his drink in the kid’s face and called for a refill, and his antagonist immediately backed down.

The night ended on a high note with the celebrated Zipper Shtick, leaving at least one audience member red-faced yet proud at being singled out for Neil’s unique brand of comic humiliation. Then Trans Am came out, and they didn’t have any jokes, so I didn’t see any reason to hang around. Besides, I needed my rest if I was going to be fresh for the second night of Neil Magic!

The Spaceland show was fun, but Neil was in looser form the following night at Over Hear, and of the two this show was my favorite. Apparently his appearance was preceded by a mariachi band (who I missed) and some young rappers who jumped around in the manner of gibbons. The place was an art gallery, all righty—you could tell by the white walls, concrete floor, and all the pretty kids from Art Center milling around in their polyester finery. Professor Mayo Thompson was also spotted (with some difficulty, since he was all in white and blended into the room), as was comedy fan Don Bolles. The show ran late, and by the time Neil stepped onto the stage from the small door leading back to the beer garden, there were at least a hundred people who had that “make me laugh, goddamit” look on their faces.

Maybe Neil underestimated his own popularity, because quite a bit of his set was repeated from the night before. Unfortunately, the blonde blabbermouth from Spaceland had come to the second show—with his act memorized! As soon as the repeat jokes started coming, she began yelling out the punchlines during Neil’s pauses. He tried to ignore her for as long as he could, then finally snarled “Why don’t you come up and introduce yourself, you little bitch?” Rumor was that she was a friend of Neil’s wife. It is conceivable that the Culver City resident might have sent a friend to interfere with her ex-husband’s local performances. Neil was onto her, though, and started changing his punchlines to make her look dumb. While this did make the jokes less amusing, it successfully shut up his heckler.

When the audience yelled “How’s your wife?” Neil admitted he had agreed not to talk about her in exchange for all his Raw Hamburger royalties and a guarantee that she wouldn’t sue him for slander—but since Jesus hasn’t sued him yet, he could say anything he liked about that guy. I wouldn’t want to repeat any of the foul things Neil said about some folks’ Lord and Savior, so let’s just say that true believers might want to think twice before attending one of his performances.

An effort to make a joke at Elian Gonzalez’ expense fell flat when Neil, who’s spent most of the last year in Australia, mispronounced the kid’s name. He quickly reclaimed the room by intoning his celebrated “That’s my life!” catchphrase a few times, and riffing on Princess Diana. Who doesn’t love a good Diana joke?

Neil wrapped things up with a long, relatively hilarious story about Anthony Kiedis’ repeated visits to a local bar in search of heroin. The punchline when it finally came had the audience clutching their sides, which were aching with convulsive laughter. Neil Hamburger slipped out the door before anyone realized he was gone, and we all returned to our workaday lives, each one a little changed from having spent some special time in the company of America’s Funnyman, Neeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiillllll Haaaaaammmmmmmburger! (Kim Cooper)
{CLICK HERE for Neil Hamburger - The Best!}

It's been said about so many of rock's giants that they were “ahead of their time” that the expression has ceased to mean much. So how about a great band that was behind their time? That would be Shocking Blue.

It was 1969 when the best version of this Dutch act gelled, and while most of the bands the Blue emulated were by then turning away from groovy and towards heavy—prog rock, early metal and pre-punk taking over the scene—Shocking Blue still sounded like they might have come out of London or San Francisco, circa ‘66/‘67.

Jefferson Airplane is be the band that Shocking Blue mostly invites comparisons to, and it was the Airplane that veteran Dutch rocker Robbie van Leeuwen had in mind when he decided he wanted a female vocalist for his group. But while van Leeuwen may have started out emulating the Jefferson Airplane, his band quickly and permanently outclassed their predecessors. Where the Airplane's lyrics were usually cliché-addled and verging on ridiculous, van Leeuwen offered fresh and innocent boy/girl tales and existential laments; while JA’s music often had that messy, jazzy, “let me do a solo” element weighing it down, Shocking Blue stuck to stripped-down, energy-packed Beat Club grooves; and Mariska Veres was simply a better singer than Grace Slick, more genuinely soulful, more naturally melodious.

Veres was actually not Shocking Blue’s original singer. When guitarist van Leeuwen dropped out of local hitmakers the Motions to form his own band in ‘67, he did so with another Dutch scenester, Fred de Wilde, at the mic. The all-boy Blue recorded one album and some singles (a few of these minor hits in Holland, most notably the decidedly West Coast-influenced “Lucy Brown is Back in Town”). But before things could go too far for this version of the act, and just when van Leeuwen was thinking that he wanted a chick to sing his songs, de Wilde was called off to do military service. Robbie wasted no time in finding Veres, who looked like a model and sang like a soul sister. De Wilde managed to get out of his military duty after just a few months, but by that time the new Blue had already scored hits with “Send Me a Postcard” and “Long and Lonesome Road.” Fred had to understand.

With musical acts things tend to either never quite happen or to happen very quickly, but they rarely happen as fast as they did for the new Shocking Blue. Before the end of their first year together, they had a number one hit in the U.S. “Venus,” their third single and the one and only song everybody remembers them for now, topped the American charts in December of ‘69.

But it's one of the great injustices of rock history that Shocking Blue should be thought of (by the few who even recognize their name) as a one-hit wonder. “Venus” is only one of several classic tracks on the Blue's At Home LP, a collection that should be near the top of critics' All-Time-Best polls, instead of remaining in the basement of super-obscurity where it currently exists. “California Here I Come” and the already-mentioned “Long and Lonesome Road” are just as catchy, just as cool, just as memorable as “Venus,” as is a song called “Love Buzz,” which Nirvana eventually covered (not too well, but they get points for having the cool to pay the tribute) on Bleach. There’s also a raga-rock instrumental, a couple more upbeat tunes just barely lagging behind “Venus” and the others, and “Boll Weevil,” the R&B-fueled album opener, which sounds like the Dead with more real spirit.

The next two Shocking Blue albums, while not as strong or consistent as At Home, were still as good as anything being put out in the first years of the ‘70s, and both contained standout tracks. Scorpio’s Dance has “Sally was a Good Old Girl,” a rockin’ version of a C&W standard, plus “Little Cooling Planet” and “Seven is a Number in Magic,” two more swanky, riff-heavy grooves that sound like California ‘67. Next was 3rd Album, which has an overall folksy feel that was new for the band. “I Saw Your Face,” the lead vocal taken by van Leeuwen, is like the Mamas & the Papas with a banjo, and “Serenade” is one of SB’s many slow-tempo'd, melancholic tracks, it being one of their prettiest ballads. But the two strongest songs on this album are both rockers: the ‘60s dance party-sounding “Bird of Paradise,” and the autobiographical anthem “Shocking You,” on which the Blue seemed to be heading to Glamsville.

Throughout these years the band, while touring over great distances at break-neck speed, also found time to record a few non-album singles, and one of these, “Never Marry a Railroad Man,” may be their best song altogether. A number one in Holland and a gold record in Germany and Japan, this mid-tempo track, with its staccato guitar riff and stays-in-your-head vocal melody, somehow didn't make any noise in America, where the best the Blue had done since “Venus” was hit the lower reaches of the Top 100, or England, where they were, amazingly, never terribly popular.

Records kept coming. A live-in-Japan set appeared shortly after 3rd Album, and in the year 1972 Shocking Blue released three long-players: Inkpot, Attila and Dream on Dreamer. Sadly, the quality-level was diminishing slightly with each new LP; but with van Leeuwen continuing to write all the original material, there was still the occasional stellar track, and nothing as embarrassing as, say, Jefferson Starship (that would come later, after Robbie left). While the albums contained too much filler to be considered even minor classics, they all had excellent singles, the best of these “Inkpot,” “Rock in the Sea,” and “Out of Sight, Out of Mind.”

Things fell apart starting in ‘73. First, the band suffered their first flop single—“Let Me Carry Your Bag” went nowhere at home or abroad, and didn't deserve to. Van Leeuwen was tired from five years of worldwide touring, non-stop recording, and songwriting responsibility, and his fatigue showed on this weak record. Things were not going well with their label Pink Elephant, and soon enough they lost a member, original bassist Klassje Van Der Wal. The band's creator, mastermind and sole songwriter to that point, Robbie van Leeuwen, gave it up shortly after that.

This should have been the end of Shocking Blue, but people need to have things to do, and in doing them often threaten to permanently tarnish something that was once precious. The absence of van Leeuwen's pen was all too apparent on the ‘74 Shocking Blue singles “This America” and “Gonna Sing My Song” and the album Good Times. While the new players were competent musicians, and while Veres' voice sounded strong as ever, the riffs weren't quite there and the lyrics were atrocious (particularly in the case of “This America,” a song on which Veres foolishly sings the praises of the country that had only recently pulled out of Vietnam).

Mercifully, the band went on hiatus after those singles failed to bust the charts. But this was still not to be the last of Shocking Blue. In 1986, the same year that Bananarama trivialized them (although thickening van Leeuwen's royalty checks) with their hit version of “Venus,” a new—and newly-schlocky—SB came out with “The Jury and the Judge,” on which they went back and proved that, yes, they actually could be as tacky and dinosaur-sounding as the Starship. This piece of soulless, formulaic glitz could've easily been the B-side of “We Built This City.”

And that ain't all. There was another single, equally bad, in ‘94, and word is that a band called Shocking Blue, with fronted by Mariska Veres, is still haunting European concert halls. Van Leeuwen is quoted as saying that this new SB “sounds good for sure,” but one has to wonder what time has done to the ears of this once classic songwriter and unsung hero of rock; Robbie hasn't played his guitar for quite some time, apparently having become more interested in the art world than that of contemporary pop music.

Recommended Listening: Singles A’s & B’s, the 2-CD collection of Shocking Blue's 45's, front and back, ‘67-‘94, contains some of SB’s best songs, and can serve as an excellent introduction to all those who think “Venus” was the only thing the band ever did. But true enthusiasts should use this only as a starting point, and go to the same label (Repertoire of Germany) that put this out for their reissues of the first three SB albums with Mariska Veres. Those totally hooked can then go on and get the three ‘72 albums, also carried by Repertoire.

Psyched Out: The Technicolor Web's Online Sound Revolution

by Tony Sclafani

What is it about the psychedelic music of the 1960s that continues to intrigue new generations of people?

Maybe it's because psychedelic music was a genre where almost anything went, and all possibilities seemed endless. Artists under the spell of psychedelia seemed blissfully unaware of commercial conventions, and were the first rockers to make full use of extra-long songs, nonsensical lyrics, massive distortion and sound effects.

Another reason for psychedelic music's appeal is that it allows you to "travel with your mind," as the Seeds put it on their psych-rock opus "Future." During the psychedelic era, artists created their own little worlds for listeners to explore. Formula love lyrics gave way to songs about everything from jolly little dwarves to 30-year-olds who still played with toys.

Psychedelic music essentially offers a vision of a make-believe world that often seems a heck of a lot more fun than the real one. In the Psychedelic World, cyclists whiz by on white bicycles at midnight, you can hear the grass grow and the skies change from orange to marmalade (some women even have marmalade hair!).

No other music delved into the fantastic like psychedelia, and the genre couldn't be less timely. The trend in lyrics today (especially in the country and rap genres) is to reflect goings on in the real world, not to create an idiosyncratic fantasyland. How can today's teens get any escape from the often-harsh real world if even their music fails to provide that? True, there are video games, but their dog-eat-dog ethos is reflective of real-world strife. If you were looking for escape circa 1967, all you had to do was turn on the black light, stare at your day-glo posters and groove to the sounds of Clear Light or The Blues Magoos. Voila! A new world. Like, why go out at all?

Laugh at psychedelic music if you will. But it's instructive to remember that when artists of any post-1960s era have looked to make big statements and take their careers to a new level, it's psychedelia they usually tap into, for instance Prince's "Around the World in a Day," Robert Fripp's "Exposure" and Madonna's "Like a Prayer" and "Beautiful Stranger" (directly referencing Love's "She Comes in Colors").

Psychedelic music is crawling all over the media landscape again these days, since this summer marks the 40^th anniversary of the Summer of Love and the Monterey International Pop Festival. And while it's hard sometimes to know exactly where to start to get into this music (Blossomtoes? Ultimate Spinach?), there is a 24/7 source for psychedelic sounds, thanks to Internet radio.

The Technicolor Web of Sound (www.techwebsound.com) is an online station that serves up a non-stop selection of songs of vintage psychedelic origin. The station, which is powered by Shoutcast streaming technology, is run by Wisconsin native and music buff Paul Moews. Moews, whose name is pronounced as "maze," was doing Internet radio back before most people even knew what it was.

"I started the station around 2000," says Moews by cell phone while commuting to his job as an electrical engineer. "with one or two listeners max on a dial-up modem. I was excited when I'd get over three people listening at a time. Now I've got hundreds on there."

Moews' site stands out not just because of his micro-niche focus, but because his station has a Web site that provides details on the artists he plays (most Shoutcast Internet stations don't have Web sites, much less intricately-designed ones). There are no disc jockeys, except when the station broadcasts a programmed show called "The Pop Shoppe," put together by Oregon disc jockey Gregarious. What Moews has done is created a lengthy playlist that intersperses obscure tracks with vintage radio commercials.

"The playlist has been manually designed," Moews explains. "There's no randomness to it. It's such a long playlist that when even I listen a lot of the time I still won't remember what song is coming up next. One of the keys to its success, I think, is the transitions between the songs, and having the ads in there. If you were to do a random playlist, the ads wouldn't work at all -- you wouldn't have good transitions. With the ads, you need to have three or four in a row to mimic an original or authentic FM station
broadcast."

What can you expect to hear on The Technicolor Web of Sound? Here's a sampling of the Web site's "most recent tracks played" list as of June 19, 10:30 a.m.: John's Children's "Desdemona," Pink Floyd's "Arnold Layne," Bear's "So Loose and So Slow," Stone Country's "Life Stands Daring Me," Ill Wind's "People of The Night," Steppenwolf's "The Ostrich," The Charlatans' "32-20," Cosmic Brotherhood's "Sunshine World," Painted Faces' "Black Hearted Susan," Neon Pearl's "Forever" and a Jefferson Airplane Levis Ad done by Spencer Dryden.

Moews' music choices sometimes fall beyond the boundaries of psychedelia, which waters down the station's appeal (for example, why is Led Zeppelin played at all?). But for the most part, most of what he plays is unheard anywhere else, especially on terrestrial radio stations. Even Satellite Radio is starting to shy away from potentially uncommercial formulas. Moews says he's able to earn enough money to keep the station running free from any commercial considerations. If there's anyone Moews takes his musical cues from, it's his listeners.

"I gradually ended up getting a fan base that started sending me more and more music," Moews notes. "My audience actually exposed me to a good percentage of what I play now. Plus, bands contacted me as well. I've received CDs from various bands, and not just obscure ones, some of the mid-level bands. And that's exposed me to some music I probably would not have been exposed to if I didn't have the station."

Moews says he gets listeners as young as 16 who e-mail him and say "I love your station!" Moews himself also missed the first flowering of psychedelia, having been born in 1968.

"I wasn't there, but I still like the music," he says. "I've liked that type of music since I was in grade school -- I heard it from a buddy that lived a couple of doors down from me who had a lot of older brothers (with psychedelic albums)."

As for the issue of the proposed royalty rate hike for Internet radio stations (set to take place July 15, 2007), Moews says he's "riding it out to see what happens." As countless news outlets have reported, there is still a chance Congress could step in and prevent the US Copyright Royalty Board from making Internet radio stations have to pay more in royalty fees (including retroactive fees) to the collection entity SoundExchange.

"It's a shame that when internet radio stations … introduce thousands of people to music they have never heard before and actually generate more record sales, that the Record Industry still wants to charge us even more for our efforts," Moews writes via e-mail when asked about the royalty situation. "It almost seems that they're trying to suppress certain types of music."

The Technicolor Web of Sound also helped spawn another radio station that's probably its only competitor in terms of Web radio programming.

That station is called Beyond the Beat Generation (www.beyondthebeatgeneration.com) and it plays an array of 1960s garage bands so obscure they makes Moews' playlist look like the Billboard top ten. It also has an exhaustive Web site with artist interviews, photos and even videos.

"I helped (Hans Kesteloo) set up that station," Moews says. "He's from Germany and he's an avid collector. In fact he turned me onto some stuff."

Like the Technicolor Web of Sound, Beyond the Beat Generation's site has a rotating "song history" listing. On the Technicolor site, you can click on the name of the artist in the song history and get a biography. On the Beat Generation site, the song history listing tells you the label, serial number and release year for each record and also tells the hometown of the artist. And you thought you were obsessive about records.

Here's a segment of the Beyond the Beat Generation's playlist as of June 20, 2:37 p.m.: Jarvo Runga's "Long Walk Home," Phyllis Brown's "Dead," The Syndicate of Sound's "Get Outta My Life," The K Otics' "Double Shot," The Dawn 5's "A Necessary Evil," The Yardleys' "Your Love" and Moving Sidewalks' "Stay Away."

If you don't want to be relegated to listening to all this music on your computer speakers, you can send the audio signal to your stereo via a $20 device called the Dynex®-Portable Wireless FM Transmitter (which you can order online at Best Buy). For serious music fans, all of the above technology has pretty much made commercial radio stations irrelevant.

You can also take the MP3 streams from both these stations, dump them into your Winamp player, toggle between them, and never hear a familiar 1960s song for hours on end. It's, like, a total alternate reality, man.

Lost Amusement Parks
by Chas Glynn

When I was quite young, I went with my folks to Playland at the Beach, a San Francisco amusement park that was about to be torn down. Researching it now, I realize that the oldest I could have been would have been was seven. Even as a child, though, I had a sense that I was visiting something that was ending, something that belonged to another era. Having an architect dad may have helped—many family trips revolved around visits to historic structures that were on the verge of demolition. When we visited Playland, it was winter, rainy, and the Wild Mouse and most of the other outdoor rides had already been decommissioned. The indoor fun house, however, was still open for business. One entered the fun house through a door topped with a giant clown (looking back this may explain my lifelong clown obsession). Even in its dotage, though, the fun house was... fun. There was a big wooden slide (which I think may be the one on the cover of the Cowsills' album) a vast tunnel which rotated as you attempted to walk through it, and the house of mirrors. I remember my dad grumbling about the state the place had fallen into—the slide was slow because hadn't been waxed to a high sheen, the panes of glass in the house of mirrors were covered in dust and countless fingerprints. I was enthralled. Shortly after our visit, Playland was torn down and condos built in its place. Across Ocean Boulevard, the Camera Obscura remains as one of the few leftovers of this urban seaside amusement park, although the part service, loath to be burdened with a decaying relic perched on an unstable cliff, continually threatens to tear it down. As with many people, amusement parks left a strong impression on my young mind. And having the site of these memories disappear leaves a certain nostalgic sadness. My own experience inspired me to look into other amusement parks that have come and gone. In tribute to these lost places, here are some amusement parks and attractions that live on only in memory, as well as one magical individual's visions of what a park should be.

I first read of The World of Sid & Marty Krofft amusement park in Dynamite magazine, which had an article on the then-planned park, and featured a breathless description of a unique new ride in which one sat inside a giant silver ball as it careened through an enormous pinball machine. Hearing nothing more of it in ensuing years, I assumed it was a pipe dream, but I later found out that it had opened and operated, although for less than a year. Located in Atlanta’s Omni International complex, TWOS&MK opened in 1976. This was an indoor park—more of an amusement mall than a traditional park. Visitors boarded a giant escalator which carried them to the top of the six-story complex, where they entered through a gateway composed of a pair of enormous, balloon-wielding mimes. Guests then passed into the Kroffts’ personal fantasy world. In addition to the pinball ride, there was a 60-ton "Crystal Carousel" which floated, hovercraft-like, on a cushion of air. Most familiar was a re-creation of Lidsville, from the psychedelic Krofft TV series of the same name, where visitors were invited to "celebrate amid giant hats." A short trip down a simulated mine shaft conveyed visitors to the "Living Island Adventure," where they could view a pageant starring characters from the H.R. Pufnstuf series.

The park, intrinsically tied to several popular television series, could have been a success, but various factors caused it to fail. It faced many problems—the pinball ride caused a number of injuries, and kept breaking down. Indeed, most of the attractions were built from scratch and faced frequent mechanical problems. And the summer of ’76 proved to be a bad time for tourism. High gas prices, coupled with relentless Bicentennial boosterism (which created the impression that popular tourist spots would be packed with celebrators) meant that many stayed at home that year. And then, too, the Kroffts' vision was just a little… odd. While the warped and vaguely disturbing aesthetic of their TV shows meant that they would long stick in the minds of kids growing up in the '70s, it didn’t necessarily play well with parents taking their kids out for a day of fun. What was amusingly weird for a half-hour on Saturday morning became a bit unnerving when one had to spend a day stuck among it in a windowless complex.

Strange as The World of Sid & Marty Krofft was, it paled in comparison the transcendental meditation-themed amusement park long planned by Doug Henning. TM combined Eastern mysticism and pop-spirituality to become a fad in the '70s, but it’s hard to conceive of it as natural fit for the hurdy-gurdy world of the amusement park. Magician Doug Henning thought differently, though. In 1987, he put his career on hold to begin the creation of Maharishi Veda Land—a theme park to be built in his native Canada, close to Niagara Falls (with a planned sister park in India) which was devoted to Vedic wisdom and enlightenment. In a press release he stated: "We are taking Maharishi's knowledge and then structuring it into entertaining and magical exhibits, rides, and films. There will be boat rides through an ancient Vedic civilization where everyone lives in perfect harmony with natural law. In this exhibit we see enlightened men flying through the air, making objects materialize and vanish at will. We will be able to walk through the Courtyard of Maya where everything we see is an illusion that fades away at a second glance." Doug used his illusionist skills to design such features as piles of money and jewels that disappeared as people grabbed for them, levitating buildings, and boulders metamorphisizing into people. Featured attractions were to be the Magic Flying Chariot Ride (which took visitors on a Monsanto-inner-space-like journey into the atomic structure of a rose), the Corridor of Time (in which parkgoers went on a trip from the birth to the death of the universe), and the Seven Steps to Enlightenment (a series of tiered pavilions which were designed to lead the visitor toward full consciousness). Henning boasted that "one time through and you will never see the world the same way again." Doug Henning died in February 2000, but he earmarked much of his fortune to ensure that work would continue on his beloved amusement park. However, despite over a decade of planning, Maharishi Veda Land seems still to exist largely on paper. Only time will tell if tourists of the future will flock to this park to mix spiritual enlightenment with their thrills and spills.

Less odd, but still very much a personal vision, was one man’s attempt to recreate the mythical world of Oz. Atop North Carolina's Beech Mountain (a popular winter resort), Grover Robbins enlisted the help of designer Jack Pentes to construct the Land of Oz theme park in 1970. Eschewing traditional rides, it endeavored to give visitors the experience of visiting L. Frank Baum's literary creation. Beginning in a Kansas farm (which featured a petting zoo), visitors went through a simulated tornado and embarked on a walk down a yellow brick road into a place adorned with colorful Styrofoam scenery and dancing, costumed characters. One could visit the Cowardly Lion's cave, peer into the handcrafted Scarecrow's house, or take a Wizardly ride in a hot-air balloon. Unfortunately, the remote location made travel to the park an ordeal of twisting mountain roads, and the area was prone to frequent flash thunderstorms, which sent visitors scurrying for shelter. Park employees soon adapted, and would kick off their shoes so as not to slip on the yellow brick road, which became treacherously slick when wet. In 1975, a fire swept through the park, destroying many of the attractions as well as the original dress worn by Judy Garland in the film version of The Wizard of Oz, on display courtesy of Oz-ibila collector Debbie Reynolds. What remained of the park was kept in operation for several more years, growing increasingly more vandalized and decrepit, until it finally closed in 1980. Occasional reunions of park employees and Oz fans take place among the ruins, and Dorothy’s house has been incorporated into the nearby Emerald Mountain vacation development, but this Oz now largely exists only in memory.

Disneyland, of course, is in no danger of disappearing, but many parts of it have faded away. Over the years, rides and attractions are updated, subtly or radically altered, or removed altogether. Tom Sawyer's Island initially featured a fishing pier, with rods provided by the park, but this was closed very shortly after the park’s opening. It quickly became evident that the successful anglers would be burdened with an unwieldy dead fish for the rest of their visit, and many were abandoned in trashcans or lockers. The nearby Swiss Family Treehouse experienced a more recent renovation. Following the release of one of Disney’s animated Tarzan movies, the attraction was renamed Tarzan's Treehouse, with revamped signage and various modification to the set dressing. In an odd oversight, however, Swiss polka music still plays on speakers hidden throughout the treehouse.

Those who visited Disneyland in the '70s and '80s may recall a rather dated version of the future presented by Tomorrowland. Gone now is the Submarine Voyage. Disneyland once had the third largest submarine fleet in the world, after the US and Soviet navies, although Disney’s could only go a few feet underwater. Despite the continued popularity of this ride, it was eliminated in the ’98 revamp of Tomorrowland. Gone too, is Monsanto's Adventure Through Inner Space. Visitors would board buggies and be "miniaturized" to travel through the world of atoms and molecules. (A former girlfriend of mine, as a child, broke her leg hopping from car to car on this ride and entered the hallowed ranks of those who have been injured on amusement park rides.) Also gone is the rather dated House of the Future, which offered such marvels as plastic furniture and a microwave oven. One missing attraction that may not ring a bell except for hardcore Disney fanatics is Captain EO. This large-screen 3D multimedia presentation opened in 1986 and was directed by Francis Ford Coppola, produced by George Lucas, and starred Michael Jackson as a space explorer who transforms an evil planet through the power of pop music. In 1997, it quietly closed and was replaced by the "Honey, I Shrunk the Audience" 3D movie.

Tomorrowland has been fully overhauled, and now attempts to present a vision of the future from a millennial standpoint. Rapidly advancing technology, however, makes today’s gee-whiz gadget commonplace within a few years. Also, the future seems much less a magical wonderland than it did in the mid-20th century. Some of Tomorrowland’s appeal may well have been that it took visitors to an antiquated, but much more appealing, vision of the future. Touchingly, the original Tomorrowland is commemorated in a mural visible over the revamped Tomorrowland.

While Disneyland looms large in shared memory, many have their own personal memories of more obscure amusements past. Mike Lavella, publisher of Gearhead magazine, recalled White Swan Park in his native Pennsylvania. Distinguished by its swan-themed rides, it closed after a number of accidents and fatalities marred its reputation. The country-themed Opryland amusement park is no more, replaced by a more lucrative mall. And while there were many Luna Parks, the one located smack-dab in the middle of Manhattan is viewed by many to be the first modern American amusement park. Featuring landscaping, neoclassical architecture and permanent installations of rides and attractions, it strived for a more tasteful environment than the typical tawdry carnival environment of the day. Present-day park operators could well learn a thing from this industry pioneer.

I'll close with another personal memory, not of a vanished park, but a vanished ride. The Cave Train at the Santa Cruz Boardwalk wasn't thrilling or state of the art—in fact it was worn at the edges by the time I visited the Boardwalk in the mid-'80s. One rode a miniature train through a stalactite and stalagmite-laden tunnel of sprayed stucco, featuring smoke-spewing volcanoes, black light illumination, and fanciful cave scenes of dinosaurs and cavemen in odd, humorous situations, It was obviously built some decades before, and I always got the impression that it was the product of one person's odd vision. I couldn't ever ride it without thinking of the Cramps' song "Caveman." It's gone now, replaced by some prefab spin-n-puke ride, and I feel the Boardwalk is the poorer for it.

Researching this article, I became aware of the vast number of lost amusement parks, and the weight of memory that they have for so many people. While it would be impossible to catalog them all, I hope that those who read this will remember amusement parks from their past, and perhaps seek out decaying attractions remaining in their communities.

(originally published in Scram #14)

Suddenly Single: When ’60s Undergrounders Made Peace with the Top 40

by Gene Sculatti

A couple of Scrams ago (#21), we looked at the ’60s phenomenon of middle-of-the-road acts trying to hip up their images by recording pop-rock material. A lesser examined but related event, it turns out, was taking place at roughly the same time, at the other end of the telescope.

It’d be hard to name a more tumultuous pop-music time frame than 1965-to-1967. Monthly, it seemed, new avenues of expression were being bulldozed across the landscape: Brit invaders, folk-rock, blues-rock, goodtime music, new Dylans, sunshine pop, acid-rock. Until late ’67-’68, when the West Coast psychedelic movement, with its establishing of the LP as the coin of the realm and the advent of  “underground” FM radio, toppled the age-old hegemony of hit singles, concessions to the old machine had to be made. A band needed a 45, as a sort of aesthetic business-card and introduction to the public. This requirement led to some fascinating records, on which the new boundary-stretching artists got a chance to show their creativity in a way that still fit the commercial strictures of the day.

The earliest example of this is probably the Yardbirds. An initial handful of straight blues covers failed as singles, and the decision to cut the cool but clearly un-Chess-like “For Your Love” (no slide guitar, plenty of harpsichord) precipitated a huge rift within the band. The group’s first hit came from the pen of pop scribe Graham Gouldman (who provided Top-40 fodder to the Hollies and Hermits, later founded 10 cc and even made bubblegum records), which led directly to the departure of Muddier-than-thou guitarist Eric Clapton. GG next gave the ’birds the even poppier “Heart Full of Soul,” while Manfred Mann drummer/vibist Mike Hugg contributed the socio-spiritual “(Mister) You’re a Better Man Than I.”

It would be a while before Clapton could shred freely and fill the Fillmores with 20-minute “Spoonfuls.” While Cream’s ’66 debut album sported instrumental adventurousness and some truly unusual songwriting, it was preceded by the atypical “Wrapping Paper.”  Jack Bruce’s sporty piano sortie sounds like a pleasant Sopwith Camel outtake or an entry by one of a dozen Lovin’ Spoonful sound-alikes.

Other free-formers complied with the rules of the game too. The Grateful Dead’s first album boasted a couple of extended cuts, but the bet hedge was Side 1 Track 1, the single “The Golden Road (to Unlimited Devotion).” The jubilant, two-minute cut features a tight, ringing Garcia solo, frequent choruses and old-time movie-serial organ on its intro and fade. The single’s flip, "Cream Puff War," which I recall the band introducing as one of their first original compositions (from the Fillmore stage in 1966), is a breakneck rocker that mashes a Dyl-lite vocal with the spirit and sound of the Animals’ “I’m Crying.” (Sadly, the disc was a stiff, as was the band’s second Warners seven-inch, a three-minute edit of their “Dark Star” opus.)

Seattle’s Daily Flash were also improvisers (a bootleg CD offers their 13-minute version of Herbie Hancock’s “Cantaloupe Island”), but their debut single pairs a feedback-packed blues adaptation (“Jack of Diamonds”) with a familiar cover (“Queen Jane Approximately”). L.A.’s eclectic Kaleidoscope eschewed the often lengthy excursions of their live sets for a pair of 45’s that aimed for radio-friendliness. “Please” b/w “If the Night”  was a double deck of exceptional folk-rock (a later release coupled “Please” with “Elevator Man,” which rather recalls the Stones’ “Off the Hook”), and “Why Try” was a conventional pop tune, albeit with Middle Eastern accents. Its B-side nodded to the camp predilection of the day—“Little Orphan Nannie.”

Blues bands, like their cousin psychedelicians, were obliged to pop up too. The (Barry) Goldberg- (Steve) Miller Blues Band cranked out the buzzing garage rocker “The Mother Song” in 1965 (Billy Sherrill, who recorded the Remains, produced) and appeared on Hullabaloo to promote it. Goldberg’s subsequent Barry Goldberg Blues Band issued the noisy, attitudinal Dylan homage “Blowing My Mind.” Even more interesting are the Blues Project singles. Early on, these relied on the dominant ’65-’66 folk-rock trend. The A-sides of the first two issues were written by Donovan (“Catch the Wind”) and Eric Andersen. The BP’s rendition of the latter’s crypto-Zimmy “Violets of Dawn” was one of several recorded in 1966 (others were done by the Robbs, Daily Flash and the Mitchell Trio).

Far more innovative was the Project’s next pair, both composed by keyboarder Al Kooper. The former Royal Teen, Dylan accompanist and material source for various girl groups, Gary Lewis and Gene Pitney first delivered the smoldering “Where’s There’s Smoke There’s Fire” (a collaboration with writing partners Irwin Levine and Bob Brass; the duo later penned Dawn’s first hit, “Candida”). The Tokens (of “The Lion Sleeps Tonight”) add vocal heft to the track, and it’s a gem, but sadly a flopped 45. The same fate befell the rockin’ “No Time Like the Right Time,” cut in December ’66. This one’s got it all: an insistent melody, Kooper’s Queens soul-patrol vocal and a mid-song instrumental breakdown (featuring AK on the spacey Ondioline keyboard), all of it perfectly in synch with the flavor of pre-Pepper psyche. The band’s post-Kooper “Gentle Dreams” b/w “Lost in the Shuffle” couples a quirkily arranged A-side (its fussy arrangement almost suggests the BS&T of “Spinning Wheel”) with an undistinguished Curtis Mayfield-derived blues.

The period, of course, subsequently saw real smashes originate from the new rock community; records like “White Rabbit,” “Light My Fire” and “Piece of My Heart” would have been unthinkable visitors to the Hot 100 in 1965 or even ’66. Eventually, the ascent of psychedelia and album-rock meant that hit singles were unnecessary, impossibly unhip and maybe even counterrevolutionary. Rather like the Byzantine contortions that govern the maintenance of indie-rock cred today, when you think about it.

All of the tracks discussed are available on CD; the Goldberg-Miller Blues Band’s Hullabaloo appearance is available on DVD.

The Last Boss Summer: The KFRC Fantasy Fair
By Ted Liebler from Scram #16

While the highly documented Monterey International Pop festival continues to be remembered as the crowning and turning point event of the 1967 Summer of Love, another pivotal festival took place just two weeks before the John Phillips/ Lou Adler/ Andrew Oldham-directed affair. On June 2nd and 3rd, the celebrated summer kicked off with the KFRC Fantasy Fair and Magic Mountain Music Festival at the summit of Mount Tamalpais in Marin. The festival presented a line-up teeming with pop gems, starring many bands simultaneity floating on the then open-ended AM and FM airwaves of the time. Every Mother’s Son, the Merry-Go-Round, the Mojo Men, Smokey Robinson and the Miracles, the Seeds, the Blues Magoos and the Byrds were just a few of the acts which shared the stage with icons like the Jefferson Airplane, Doors and Captain Beefheart.

The charity festival, benefiting the Hunters Point Child Care Center, is also fascinating because it was assembled by a commercial AM radio station, just as the FM free-form cadre were gearing up for their eventual coup. KFRC 610, being the big RKO-Bill Drake "Boss" Top 40 AM radio station in San Francisco, had the universal clout to pull in counter-culture bands/ heads, commercial bands /casual listeners, and all those in-between. (Incidentally, the festival seemed to be sort of an adult playground with its concentric domes display and a giant Buddha balloon greeting the attendees when they were dropped off at the summit by “Trans-Love” buses. In darker foreshadowing contrast, it's also rumored to be the first festival to use the Hell’s Angels as security.)

Alec Palao wrote of the fair in Cream Puff War #1: "The dichotomy in Bay Area music was never so evident, as the self-proclaimed "adult” scene separated itself from the "teen/pop" scenes.” Paradoxically, Greg Shaw recalls that there was not really a large gap splitting the radio preferences of the teens and the hip until Tom Donohue’s free-form KMPX fully flowered in the fall of '67. “Being a KFRC event, it probably attracted some younger fans who wouldn't have minded [Every Mother's Son], with the older hippies coming for their own reasons, if only a groovy day out in the sun.”

Besides being one the first radio station sponsored “be-ins,” it was also one of the last great Top 40 radio events until the Wango Tango era. Initially, it seems startling that an AM outlet would sponsor a huge outdoors "love-in," when their usual jurisdictions were record hops and teen fairs. However, conventional history seems to overlook the power and influence that Bill Drake had during this transitional time. In 1965, Drake introduced Los Angeles to the “Boss Radio” format with its action-packed, bright and tight playlist at KHJ. With legendary Boss Jocks Robert W. Morgan and The Real Don Steele on board, it took just five months for the streamlined station to dominate the L.A. market. After conquering, L.A., RKO gave Drake free reign to program and consult other vital markets including San Francisco (KFRC), Detroit (CKLW) and Boston (WRKO).

In fact, the supposedly polarized pre-Monterey Bay Area scene seems to have actually encompassed everything from perky pop to raga rock. Shaw ruminates further on the vague demarcations between the pop and rock scenes. “As I recall it KFRC did not have an anti-hippie stance at all. It's true that Bill Drake developed his Top 40 philosophy there, but in late '66 I attended a meeting with him (together with my co-editors) urging the station to get behind the "new music" more and offering some suggestions (the Blues Magoos was one that I recall). He then patiently explained that he loved all this new music, but had to deliver the numbers. However he welcomed our input. And the station did play the Airplane, and some other popular local sounds (possibly even the Great Society? I'm hazy). It was only after KMPX started that there was any real line drawn, and even then KFRC supported as much local talent as they could.” Shaw concludes, “That of course is only my own recollection of a tiny fraction of how and why things were the way they were. And I'm not really a primary source. All I'm saying is that there is a very complex social tapestry to what was going on, musically and otherwise, in SF between 1966 and 1970. This event, I'd guess, encapsulates some of the curious paradoxes.”

What follows is an entry about being on the set of The Chimp Channel. As you can imagine I was probably as excited as people get when they play bingo or when they watch their favourite band live. I wanted to share with you all about my experience so you too can be a part of it. Hope you like it.

Monkeyin' around on the set of The Chimp Channel
with Becky Ebenkamp
(from Scram #12)

There’s a fine line between the sublime and the stupid, but only occasionally does there come along an entertainment vehicle brilliant enough to straddle it. For every Cabin Boy there’s 1,347 Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigolos. But one lowbrow equation is a proven theorem: Monkeys = funny.

Having long considered Lancelot Link Secret Chimp the peak of quality television entertainment, I was justifiably giddy to learn that TBS would be producing a half-hour weekly series called The Chimp Channel. Since the “sit” in this “com” would revolve around apes running a TV station, viewers would get both a window on backstage showbiz hijinks and a satire of boob tube offerings. Like SCTV, only simian.

Co-creator Tom Stern, a writer with a specialty in chimp-specific work, helped popularize the primate parody concept for a series of 1998 promos for TBS’s stable of classic films. In “Monkey-ed Movies,” apes re-enacted scenes that ran the gamut from Gone With the Wind to Saturday Night Fever to Braveheart. The interstitials proved so popular—America, after all, loves a monkey and a clothed chimp all the more so—that TBS subsequently aired an all-Oscar revue. TCC was green-lighted on the strength and ratings of these shorts.

But soon after production began, Stern found himself at odds with TBS suits regarding the direction of TCC. The fuse blew on the set, when a blotto Stern reportedly flipped out, stripped nude and antagonized the station’s top brass. In his version, this was not a drunken display but “performance art” to protest creative differences. Whatever it was, Stern was canned, lawsuits followed and The Chimp Channel went on without its prime visionary at the helm.

A few months into its run, I managed to procure a visit to the TCC set. While thrilled at the prospect, I didn’t realize what a coup it was. Even a fly buzzing by, I was told, could be a major scene-wrecker for a curious chimp thespian, so this was a closed set. Because of the apes’ limited working hours and desire to interact, I was briefed on “taboo” behavior such as touching or feeding them, making gestures or even eye contact. However, none of this advice proved necessary, as the simians hardly co-mingled with crew members, let alone me.

While getting a tour through the scaled-down-to-monkey-size set—walking through it was a bit like visiting Being John Malkovich’s 7 and 1/2th floor—an announcement rang though the unassuming warehouse buried in the Burbank foothills. “Attention: Chimps are entering the building! Everyone take your place!” Five minutes later this was followed by “Chimps are now walking through!” Only the trainer and cameraman were allowed in the actual performing area, it seemed. Those not essential to the up-close action, including the director, viewed from monitors 50 feet away.

In the scene being filmed, the show’s female lead—a Pamela Anderson actress-type named Marina—would hysterically wave a gun at TCC’s general manager. But before she could fire, another chimp was to emerge from a door that would open to knock the gun out of her hand. This 15-second scene was rehearsed several times with a trainer, as it required the female chimp to react to the door’s bump and toss the gun as if it were accidentally flying out of her hand. To ensure that her mouthing matched up to the cadence of the dialogue, the trainer “hand-talked” to a recorded tape and the primate aped.

This is a lot to remember, especially when one is wearing an uncomfortably hot wig and itchy, ill-fitting dress. Many times, the scene wasn’t performed to completion because the actress tugged her hair off or chewed the weapon. In order not to expend any additional monkey energy, the role of opening the door was relegated to a human during the lengthy rehearsal. The chatter, bump!, toss the gun sequence was repeated ad infinitum.

Finally, it became time to film, and the chimp was placed behind the door. Everything was going well: the actress mouthed her dialogue and held the gun at the proper angle. Then, right on cue, the other chimp bumped her with the door, but she detected a subtle difference. The Pamela Anderson chimp flipped around, saw that the culprit was another monkey, interpreted his action as an attack and clocked him over the head with her gun. Much shrieking ensued. I saw the director glance down from his monitor and rub his temples in a “how the hell did I get into this racket?” motion.

I have no idea whether this was the last straw, but a few weeks later TBS announced it was ceasing production on The Chimp Channel. I don’t know if the episode I watched was the last to be taped; it was the last to air.

It wasn’t like TCC was the funniest thing to hit the airwaves, but its presence is sadly missed in a TV environment sorely lacking in chimp antics. Perhaps some brave, bright soul will pick up the gauntlet. Until then, at least we have MoJo JoJo.•