Moustache Rock

(I first slapped this up on the internet in ‘04 with kind input from Ally on her then-current, fashionable SCRUGLET webzine. Sadly, SCRUGLET has long since gone the way of the pulltop aluminum beverage can. But as I’ve now regrown my moustache, it’s hightime this piece got another airing.)

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As a courtesy to others, leave your Frank Zappas and Geddy Lees at home with the sitter. Please check all Freddy Mercurys, Phil Lynotts and whoever else you might have brought with you at the door. You are now taking a seat at . . .

THE REAL MOUSTACHE ROCK ROUND TABLE!!!

Introductions from left to right:

1) DAVE BALL of SOFT CELL. Not in the history of mankind has DAVE BALL’s visage been given billing over that of singer MARC ALMOND – until now, that is. And that’s because New Romantics (circa 1981) didn’t know what the fuck to make of this heavy-set bruiser with a moustache. His anachronistic look brings to mind that of SPARKS’ RON MAEL, but it also gets me thinking English seaside holidaymaker – which makes sense, since DAVE’s from Blackpool. Hopefully, focusing in on his looks for this brief moment will also lead you reconsider this man’s uncanny knack of crafting anxious, desperate melodies & beats that sound the way drinking 6 consecutive shots of espresso alone in your shitty studio apartment feels.

2) RON MAEL of SPARKS. RON’s moustache transcends mere fashion trend – it’s an integral part of what it means to be SPARKS, not to mention a potent musical force in and of itself. Take a listen to SPARKS’ Kimono My House LP again, and listen closely this time; you can actually hear RON’s moustache throwing in it’s 2 cents on damn near every cut. And it’s no coincidence that every change in SPARKS’ musical attack over the years (from dadapop to glamrock to powerpop to synthpop to . . .) has been heralded in by yes! you guessed it! a subtle moustache alteration. Just who or what is calling the shots here? Those of you who feel up to the task can explore Ron’s face in more detail here.

3) TAV FALCO of THE PANTHER BURNS. If you’re someone who doesn’t have alot of patience for things deemed “rootsy”, but always suspected things were waaaay cooler in them olden days than anyone’s grandparents are letting on – well then, TAV’s your man. TAV has an innate ability to recontextualize forgotten American musics in such a highly personalized and assbackwards sort of way that you, the listener, begin to truly understand the dark, festering places in which our collective heritage first squirmed. In the 1990’s, he also focused his attention on tracing American musical forms back to their festering European origins, and reportedly spent a fair amount of time doing the tango in dimly-lit, turn-of-the-century Parisian brothels. Which makes his ghostly moustache all the more apropos.

4) KID CONGO POWERS of THE GUN CLUB. I couldn’t really find a pic that does justice to this man’s upper lip, which is a shame. It’s often groomed in the Errol Flynn mold, but on the KID’s face it takes on a kind of seedy urban jaundice that speaks of acts of profound indiscretion. Those unfamiliar with his music should note he’s also played guitar in THE CRAMPS and NICK CAVE & THE BAD SEEDS among many others – bands who have seen fit to infuse near lethal doses of drama and excitement into our milktoast world over the past quarter century. Plus, he bought a BURUNDI BLACK 12″ in the Hollywood record store I once managed and seemed really sweet, so he earns an honorary seat at the Real Moustache Rock Round Table.

5) WILLY DeVILLE of MINK DEVILLE. I can’t pretend to have followed much of what this man has recorded over the past 30 years. But I’d follow a moustache like this on the street in a New York minute. Perfectly sculpted, nicely thinned, trimmed to a point; in 1977, this sort of attention to personal grooming was a challenge to uptight, heterosexual American men everywhere. While WILLY was hardly the first to bring back the Errol Flynn, he was probably the first to plaster it on the face of downtown NYC punk rock clubland culture. A bold move, MR. DEVILLE. Bravo.

6) FREDRIC CHICHIN of LES RITA MITSOUKO. The somewhat unexpected runway appearance of early 80s inspired fashion in this new millennium might’ve suggested all sorts of colorfully futurist possibilities, but make no mistake about it: this corporate visitation is a hesitant (read: unwilling) nod to those asymmetrically times, at best. The dearth of wacky retro 80’s gear for large size women in your local mall speaks reams of the dominance of hardbody culture over the past 20 years, and lost are the devil-may-care juxtapositions that made 80’s fashion so exciting. Which brings us to FREDRIC CHICHIN: one half of LES RITA MITSOUKO (hands down the best 80’s French new wave duo ever), and a fashion icon unto himself. Everything this man wore – be it hair, fur, silk, skin, metal, paint or plastic – he wore like a freakin’ demon. And it goes without saying that his long, beautifully manicured moustache has much to do with the ease with which he pulled it all off. If you need more visual stimulation do check out the 100+ photos of FREDRIC here.

7) KID CREOLE of KID CREOLE & THE COCONUTS. If you ever attended a high school grad night or New Year’s Eve party in the 1980’s, no doubt you were suckered into shuffling around the dancefloor to something by this man. However embarrassing those memories may be, I’d wholeheartedly suggest you re-explore the first couple KID CREOLE LPs, as well as everything he did with his earlier 70’s/40’s disco acts (DR. BUZZARD’S ORIGINAL SAVANNAH BAND and GICHY DAN’S BEACHWOOD #9). Those records are stylistically clever, suavely over-the-top romps through a goofy, colorful terrain few but KID have ever sought fit to explore. And the sight of him here on this page – wearing that Cab Calloway moustache & zoot suit – still makes me giggle in a really good way.

8) LEE HAZLEWOOD. The twisted granddaddy of em all, LEE was first to take the flying leap and slide a big ol’ droopy moustache under the radar of the fashion police. On one hand, this was a not-so-subtle insult, a middle finger of sorts aimed at record company stiffs in suits and ties everywhere. But on another level, it was pure genius: the appropriation of something as sick as a goddamn Fuller Brush moustache under the rubric of cool! And make no mistake about it, he did make it cool. Holy fuckin’ A, man – this is the moustache of my worst/best nightmares.

Sweetpeas in my I-Pod

Too beat tonight for much except a little love for three records that are haunting my thoughts right now due to heavy rotation on my I-Pod. Always gotta give it up for the good folk, even when I ain’t got much to give.

FORMERLY FAT HARRY – S/T (Capitol Records, 1972) – Retrospective collections by this ex-pat American led UK outfit are great and much easier to find (Goodbye For Good on Hux Records from 2007, or Mariachi Riff Live and Free Music on Shagrat Records from 2009), but their only contemporaneous release from back in the day still gets my vote as their very best. It’s their finest collection of sad-but-proud BYRDSian songs, the singing is DEAD sweet throughout, and the BAND-esque precision playing unparalleled. For all those who gotta endure insane amounts of stress/hassle during the 9 to 5 workaday. . . spinning this one upon returning home – as the sun sets and the anger abates and you sip a highball and start smiling at your cat doing donuts in the hallway – will calm you right the fuck down. Anyone who dismisses this quieter, rural end of early 70’s Brit rock (BRINSLEY SCHWARZ, QUIVER, EGGS OVER EASY…) you’re missing out bigtime.

RIPPER – “And The Dead Shall Rise” (Iron Works, 1986) – Never figured the late 70’s “horror music” of DEATH SS would have inspired so many impressive, crypt-dwelling rockers. But along with PAUL CHAIN and THE JESTERS OF DESTINY, Houston’s RIPPER were some of the very best. Their metal bludgeon was 80’s simple but mighty loud and effective, especially given the presence of so many weird/idiosyncratic elements. Dig those John Carpenter-esque soundtrack interludes! Or the highly-strung Diana Cancer-like banshee wail of Sadie Paine! And what of that drummer’s odd roto-tom fixation? This is some crazed shit, from beginning to end. But it’s Rob Graves (no relation to 45 GRAVE bassist) who steals the show with his camp but totally convincing performance as 17th-century vampire growler. God, if only every forgotten metal band was this inspired and pounding. Ray says their new comeback record – originally penned in ‘87 as a sequel to this one – is just as good. I’m gonna believe him.

ROBI DRACO ROSA – Vagabundo (Sony Latin, 1996) – Ex-MECHANIC Dennis Catron turned me on to this guy here, with the caveat “will be missed by millions of U.S. teens who can’t get past the fact the singer used to be in MENUDO.” Yep Robi co-wrote “Livin’ La Vida Loca” with Ricky Martin, but he also once led this mighty curious foray into brooding, mid-90’s session grunge. And this is one CD that actually hits the mark way more often than it irritates with any kinda corporate slickness. Parts of this sound like MANU CHAU covering the ALICE IN CHAINS songbook; others like NICK CAVE gone Tropicália. Me I like to think I’m listening to LENNY KRAVITZ after he’s suffered serious head trauma and started to believe he was P.J. HARVEY reborn as a Puerto Rican pop star. Don’t believe me? Take a look at this.

Gotta credit Phil Manzanera who produced the heck out of this CD, and thank the cats from EDNASWAP(!) who all turn in great performances herein – but bow before Robi himself for the inspired material and soulful performances. Or just count your lucky stars that glistening little nuggets like this can still be dredged from the major label cesspools. Am I the last gringo to get wise to this classic of 90’s Rock En Español? Nope – that’d be you, hombre.

For Hard Core Rock ‘N’ Rollers Only

Living in far west London, now and again I do find myself missing my old life back in Southern California. At such times I often reach for stacks of old music fanzines accrued in the 80’s as a teen – Flipside, Maximum Rocknroll, Forced Exposure – to remind me just where I came from. And while these mags were great, no single body of work ever summed up the Southern California suburban rocker experience quite like BACK DOOR MAN magazine did.

BDM magazine first leapt into print in the North Torrance area of the South Bay in early 1975, as edited by Fred Patterson AKA Phast Phreddie. By all accounts, this was a fucking tough time to be a true r’n'r believer: it was in that no-man’s land between the hippie and punk wars, when PETER FRAMPTON and THE EAGLES ruled airwaves coast to coast. Fred somehow managed to publish 15 issues during that mid/late 70’s vacuum, and fully 3/4 of these predate the initial July 1977 issue of the far more renowned, Hollywood-based Slash magazine.

BDM writers (Fred, Don Waller, D.D. Faye, Bob Myers, Thom Gardner, Don Underwood) were barely grown up themselves, and their writing reflects this. It was gonzo bedroom fandom at it’s most manical: the logical offspring of Creem mag letters section ranting, Lester Bangs carburetor dungpile run-off, and barely legible high school yearbook scribblings. The graphic layout was handset and looked it, the B&W photos all starkly contrasted, and the text as dense as rush-hour traffic on the Harbor Freeway. Subject matter spanned 2-chord 60’s wonders (BLUE CHEER, DOORS, SEEDS) tasty glam/bubblegum (SWEET, THE RASBERRIES, DWIGHT TWILLY) hard arena rock (BÖC, THIN LIZZY, KISS) not to mention exciting new “punk” sounds starting to leak out back then (IGGY, PATTI SMITH, THE DICTATORS).

While the Slash crew were stylistically aligned with punk from the get-go, BDM were earlier and had far too much love and appreciation of the entire spectrum of rock n roll – and lowbrow culture in general – to ever sever connections to the hairier end of 70’s life. This meant a trippy interview with PERE UBU might follow ernest gushings about Night Moves-era BOB SEGER and insightful musings about the current state of pornography. Most intriguingly to my South Baycentric mindset, BDM always gave lots of coverage to all manner of local acts (anybody remember BLIND OWL, SPIKE, or RED ASPHALT?) then playing around in those very same suburbs I grew up in. Reading these mags a decade+ later in the late 80’s, it had the neat effect of helping me believe my local scene and shitty garage band was, potentially, as glorious & meaningful as any Haight/Ashbury or Led Zeppelin ever was. Thanks, BDM.

New Wavers who pitted themselves against all that came before must’ve invariably turned up their noses at BDM’s inclusive aesthetic (punk + metal + soul + alcohol + local taco stand). But I’m confident Hard Core Rock ‘N’ Rollers knew just who had Shake Appeal. In retrospect, it wasn’t Slash but BDM who foreshadowed the resurgence of hard and heavy rock within post-hardcore independent music scenes. For this, they earn my undying respect.

And Back Door Man are now on MySpace! Do check out the amazing first BDM issue now online here. Of course the South Bay Rock ‘N’ Roll feature found therein is my fave, where mention is made of a wild, late 60’s party/crash pad known as The Third Eye in Palos Verdes(!), and D.D. Faye’s band ATOMIC KID are said to sound “like a cross between The Count Five, Sparks, and Robin Trower”. Yeah!

Honk If Yr Horny

My wife went to Southern California recently and all I got was a beat up, thrifted copy of the oft overlooked but still glorious HONK LP on 20th Century Records from 1973 along with its loving Hip-O Select expanded CD reissue from 2004. Truly, my beautiful wife is an oddsock.

HONK – “Don’t Let Your Good-Bye Stand”

(The not-so-lousy Rat Sound t-shirt I had to order myself here)