collisionwork: (vile foamy liquids)
One of my favorite bands of all time is The Mothers of Invention - the 1960s version of Frank Zappa's band, which flourished (creatively if not economically) from 1965-1969. I know Zappa hated his fans who, like me, preferred his "early stuff" to his later work, but what the fuck, it was yer best work Frankie.

The guys from Steely Dan agreed - when they were inducted into The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, instead of giving a speech, they asked questions of the audience that seemed to be of importance to them, the first being, "Who was the original drummer for The Mothers of Invention?"

They got the correct answer from the crowd - the name and sobriquet of the man who played some tasty and difficult drums for Zappa at the start, keeping Zappa grounded in bar band rock while additional conservatory-trained percussionists (including Arthur Dyer Tripp and Billy Mundi) took on the more experimental parts, and who was the most iconic presence in the group apart from Zappa himself.

And now Jimmy Carl Black, The Indian of the Group, original drummer for The Mothers of Invention, has passed away on November 1.

Jimmy Carl is probably best known and loved for his portrayal of Burt, the Redneck, tormentor of The Mothers, in Zappa's film 200 Motels, from 1971. Here's his big musical number, "Lonesome Cowboy Burt," with a bit of the following scene with Theodore Bikel as Rance Muhammitz, who may or may not be The Devil (and while I thank the person who uploaded this, I can't believe they cut the scene one line short of the best punchline!):



(the next line, from Burt, is "You got many friends that call you Opal the Hot Little Bitch?")

Jimmy Carl, Indian of the Group, we will miss you.

In looking for that clip above, I found a whole bunch of excerpts from 200 Motels on YouTube (the film is long out of print on VHS and there's no DVD), so for those who haven't seen this mangled, difficult, deeply flawed, something-like-a-masterpiece, I've included the clips in the cut below. I'm glad to have them in postable form, but the quality is somewhat variable, sorry.

The film is the story of how touring in a rock and roll band can make you crazy, as The Mothers reach a new town, Centerville, just like all the other towns they've been in as they've stayed in 200 motels across America. The band is beginning to fragment - all of them beginning to hate playing Zappa's weird "comedy" music (which doesn't help them get any groupie action) and wanting to instead play some "heavy blues." They're also tired of Zappa secretly recording their conversations and then using it as material for his songs and for the movie he's writing (which is indeed where much of the dialogue comes from). Now, in Centerville, the band has reached the breaking point.

The film was shot on a large soundstage in England, on video, with a giant cartoony set representing the town and four groups of performers - The Mothers; actors; dancers; a symphony orchestra and choir - performing simultaneously in different areas of the stage.

They had less than a week and very little money to shoot it on, and only wound up filming a third of Zappa's dense script. Then, in the editing (for which two weeks were allowed), the story was made even less intelligible. There were outtakes, but the studio unfortunately decided to erase the master tapes to make a little money selling them back as blank stock(!).

However, what there is left is a collection of beautiful, bizarre parts that don't quite come together. I love it.

200 MOTELS - in the TOTALITY of its PAGAN SPLENDOR! )



Rzzzzz!

Sep. 14th, 2008 10:22 am
collisionwork: (comic)
Ben Model gave a terrific talk yesterday at The Brick on the use of undercranking in silent film, especially silent comedy - pretty much all silent films were not shot at any standard frame-per-second speed, and most were shot at lower frame rates so they'd feel "punchier" when projected (as well as filmmakers getting around exhibitors who were speeding up projectors to fit in an extra screening every day).

So Ben showed examples from films by Chaplin, Lloyd, and Keaton, both at the speed they were supposed to be projected at, and also at the speed at which they were shot, which was fascinating (at least for a film tech-head like me, who's actually shot some hand-cranked/undercranked 16mm film myself on a Bolex for my NYU senior film, Deep Night). You could really see, slowed down, the care and craft (and safety measures) that went into the slapstick.

And that was yesterday at The Brick. Today, B & I have nothing except an afternoon backyard BBQ with Theatre friends, and a late night tech run of Penny Dreadful episode #6.5 after the last show at the space - unfortunately, as of last night at least, the show that we'll be following is running about 15 minutes over, so we'll get an even later start. Tomorrow is the Penny Dreadful fundraiser, where we'll do the mini-episode and have a nice party.

Meanwhile, I've finally seen and grabbed the mens' magazine cover that inspired the title (and final cover image) of Frank Zappa's album Weasels Ripped My Flesh. I wasn't sure that anything could be more silly and funny in a disturbing way than the final cover art by Neon Park, but despite Zappa showing him this original cover and apparently saying, "what can you do that's worse than this?", I think Park didn't quite live up to the glory of the original image:

Weasels Ripped My Flesh!

And finally, for those who may have ever wondered what it looks like on my end while I'm blogging, here it is:

Where He Wants To Be

Yep, most of the time, I'm trying to do this one-handed, while dealing with a kitty who demands to be held or he'll wander around the apartment, yowling, and then start knocking things over or climbing where he's not supposed to until he gets the hugs he wants. Little lovey bastard (at least he's asleep on the sofa right now so I don't have to deal with this).

While checking out the "Photo Booth" program on the iMac so I could take that picture, I found one of my favorite shots of B & I, taken right after the computer was delivered and we hooked it up and had it take us through the setup process, which included taking a shot of its owners:

First Photo Booth Picture

Which makes me also realize it's time to grow the beard back . . .

collisionwork: (GCW Seal)
Final post in connection with the three August shows is up at The Brick's blog, B(rick)log.

The post itself is HERE.

Primarily, as mentioned in the previous post here, about influences, and containing several videos from Frank Zappa, Ernie Kovacs, and Negativland, and a mention of Harvey Kurtzman.

Don't play ball.

collisionwork: (mary worth)
As we swing into the last days and performances of Gemini CollisionWorks' month at The Brick, some final media attention has appeared, which is always appreciated, no matter where and when (well, not really, but close enough).

A nice blurb at Gothamist, which may not linger there forever, so I'll reprint it here for archival purposes:

When future theater historians look back on underground auteur Ian W. Hill, they may well wonder, "Was this one man or one hundred?" Hill's month-long takeover of Williamsburg's Brick Theater – in which he's directing, performing, producing and probably simultaneously running lights and selling tickets for three productions (two of which he also wrote) – ends this weekend. Tonight is Everything Must Go (Invisible Republic #2), a play "in dance and fragmented businesspeak. A day in the life of 11 people working in an advertising agency as they toil on a major new automobile account, interspersed with backbiting, backstabbing, coffee breaks, office romances, motivational lectures, afternoon slumps, and a Mephistophelian boss who has his eye on a beautiful female Faust of an intern." Plus singing! – John Del Signore

"Was this one man or one hundred?"

One. Just one. One very VERY tired one.

Plus a Berit. One (1) Official Berit™ (several people have told me they want a Berit™, but I seem to have the only one).

Well, it's nice, and pretty much on the money (except, "singing?"- there's no singing in the show . . .). Also, of course I don't run lights - that's Berit™'s job - just projections for Spell and I only occasionally sell tickets when I can't get someone else.

Ah, I just found the other bit of press online - I thought it was only in the print edition of the Williamsburg Courier. Yeesh, that's the most unflattering photo of me ever in print . . . it looked bad enough in the print version but clearer and online? Yuck. Ladies and gentlemen, there he is, Mr. Pigmeat Markham. At least the first two paragraphs kinda explain WHY I look so sweaty and haggard (if you make the connection).

Yup, this is "A 'Hill' of a Time at The Brick in August." {sigh} Well, it's a nice piece that gets the facts pretty much right - though once again an article implies I was brought up by my dad in NYC when I tried to make it clear I'm from Cos Cob, CT and spent just weekends in the City (actually, it kinda mixes facts in a confusing way there - which may not be the writer's fault but an editor's - that's how it's happened before). Sorry, Mom.

And I should really stop being so hard on writers/editors using my last name in silly ways in headlines -- I remember writing for my school newspaper, and it's true, there NEVER seems to be a good headline for anything and you always make up something involving a name just to have something to put there, even if you're not happy with it.

It's not as bad as the critic who panned an evening of T.S. Eliot plays directed by myself and Edward Einhorn, who closed the review with a strange, non-sequitur comment on Edward's last name (about how it's German for "unicorn"). We were puzzled by the strange comment, until I went back and looked at the critic's other reviews and saw that he did this repeatedly when he had no way "out" of a review - find someone in the company with a last name he could make a multi-lingual pun out of, and then do it in a way that reflected his like or dislike of the show, no matter how forced it was. Pathetic. Really, really pathetic.

Sometimes the noun of a last name can be fun - I hung out in school a few times with a bunch of friends whose last names were all nouns or adjectives, and I had the most "normal" one - David Gay, Charles Virgin, Mike Little (who at 16 years old was 6'5", burly, and massively bearded), and Mike Newsom (which didn't really count, but you could elide it enough to sound like "nuisance" if you wanted). So when we were together (or in various combos) we could introduce ourselves like, "He's Gay, he's a Virgin, he's Little, I'm a Hill, and he's a New-s-s-m . . ." I think on one occasion James Wise was there and got thrown into the mix.

Chuck Virgin started that, I think. Funny guy. Must have run in his family - his parents named his sister "Mary." Really.

Anyway, what's in a name?

Jesus, What a Name

Just for fun, here's some more videos behind a cut - these are all leftovers from a post I made up for B(rick)log about influences, from the band Negativland or from Frank Zappa. These didn't fit the post, but I like 'em, so here they are:

There's no business like . . . )



Enjoy.

collisionwork: (music listening)
Two towering musical figures have passed away, one a week ago, one today, and I'd been meaning to mention the first, but probably wouldn't have got around to it were it not for the second. Both were magnificent composers in their own right, but their influence has been even greater and more magnificent.

Karlheinz Stockhausen left us on December 5, at the age of 79. George Hunka posted a fine appreciation HERE that contains a number of good links, including one to a recording of Klavierstück.

And since the music is what matters, you might also want to check out some additional Stockhausen MP3s (available for a limited time) HERE

I'm very fond of what little music of his that I know, but, honestly, it's primarily his influence on others that has come down to me. The second artist has affected me greatly both in influence and in his own work . . .

Dead today is Ike Turner, age 76. A complicated, unpleasant man with a complicated, unpleasant history that should not be forgot. The AP obit relayed by the Times is HERE.

However, he's also one of the creators of rock and roll music as a form, and goddamn but there should be SOME respect for that, for at least a moment.

A fine fine superfine single of his, and an good appreciation, can be found HERE.

Perhaps Ike's single most important act was as bandleader, writer, piano player, and producer of "Rocket 88," regarded by many (and yeah, I think I'm in this group) as the first real rock and roll record - recorded at Sam Phillips' studio in 1951. Don't know it? Here you go:



And for a synthesis/collision of both the Stockhausen and Turner traditions (the kind of bag I'm in), here's someone's home video accompanied by the "It Can't Happen Here" movement (dedicated to Elvis Presley) from Franz Zappa's "Help, I'm a Rock" on the Freak Out! album, 1966. Most of it is in a "classic" rock vocal tradition, with the middle section an admitted Stockhausen-influenced piano solo (performed by Zappa):



R.I.P.

UPDATE: The always-wonderful Kim Morgan at Sunset Gun has posted some good thoughts (and an account of a brief meeting with Ike) about Mr. Turner. Well worth a read.

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