'O How We Danced On The Night We Were...'

... begins "The Anniversary Song", Al Jolson and Saul Chaplin's morose, faux Ruritanian. 3-hankie chicken souper, one of Don Van Vliet's favorites in fact, which he liked to unleash live, a capella, at the drop of a, uh, a Hat (right up there with "Murderer", his readymade r&b hit for the putative pop project he dubbed the Van Damn Pyre group)...

And as last night Dec. 28th marked the twenty-second anniversary of LucasSinclair Inc., I thought I'd crank up "The Anniversary Song" on the old Itunes to get those lachrymal ducts deluxe a flowin' ...and lo and behold discovered a very Russian Tea Rheumy kind of live version (probably an early radio or tv aircheck) with purple passionate vintage violins weeping down the drain at the Itunes Store, a version sung by Jolson...Der Bingle...and Judy (Garland--well, said grande dame is listed in the registry :-)... but by the evidence here emits nary a sigh on this particular download...maybe the two veteran crooners were merely serenading her, or she was off-mic)...anyway, good stuff! Arthur Murray's got a version available there too I notice...shall I visit the "99 Cents Store" again to partake of this particular audio gem?...I shall...oh, yeahhh...

Now why Jolson should have colored his musical commemoration of his own sacred vows-taking with the minor-key, almost dirge-like melody of " The Anniversary Song" on what should on the face of it be a hap-hap-happy knees-up kind of occasion (celebrating a longterm successsful partnership, come on!) begs the question of whether Al was actually mourning his loss of innocence, "as the years go passing by" stylee (tune's got a "September Song"-ish kind of vibe)...or whether he was mourning the longterm loss of his bachelorhood status...libido...or (most probably) his Mammy (remember "Expresso Bongo", and its incredible "Shrine On the Second Floor" number? Cliff Richard's paean to his "grey-haired Madonna ", song courtesy--well 1/3 of it-- of Monty Norman, of James Bond Theme fame)...dunno, really... but the weltschmaltz of "The Anniversary Song" does indeed smack of a kind of underlying sacrificial, world weary resignation bemoaning the present-day marital status quo...on the order of the ur-blues lyric "she gotta ring round her finger/and a ring through his nose"...

Now, no relationship--obviously-- is all Love and Rockets, all of the time!

But-- "Here Today", in this parrish, I haveta tell ya, me and she (who must be obeah'ed!) are getting along better than ever... you might say: (in)famously...

Dancing the night away, still (I'll take Kool and the Gang's "Celebration" over "The Anniversary Song" anytime)...

Sustained in the long run/for the long haul/ for so many years probably because besides obviously the not inconsiderable "love factor", NEITHER of us has the upper hand, all of the time (c'est boring!).

Relationships being what they are in this bittersweet human amalgam, it seems obvious that couples who find themselves trapped in fixed roles/dominant-sub-dominant chordal patterns tend to split up sooner than later.

With us, the question of "who's on top? who's on first?" is moot(able)/to laugh.

(me, I'd rather switch than fight...) :-)

xxLove

Gary

The Mad in the High Castle

"Madhouse on Castle Street" was the name of an infamous, albeit largely unseen, British teleplay, a so-called "boarding house" meller airing once only in '63 on the BBC, celebrated to this day for starring a young Bob Dylan on his first ever trip to the UK after discovery in the clubs here in NYC bootstrapped/whisked him overseas to essay a dramatic/romantic rebel-type role (Jack Fate nipping at yr nose) which also necessitated some singing (4 songs apparently, including the first ever recorded rendition of "Blowin' in the Wind")--an 8 miles high kinda journey that took him from positively 4th Street to the manses of Mayfair down into the sweaty cellars of the London folkie clubs which not only helped him expand his repertoire (thank you Martin Carthy) but got him Ewan Macoll'ed up to join the ranks of the Aldermaston/Jarrow/CND marching hard left UK folkie brigade--this a couple years prior to his supposed apostate 'Judas' outing in Manchester where, tarred and feathered, thistled and thorned, younger than that now Bob passed on into rock mythos...

...the play's the thing of course, gone gone gone now, the master tape apparently wiped for good (must check with hypnotist collector Mitch Blank about this) but memory of which has acquired greil status amongst the cognoscenti boarders at the Dylano Hotel, now dusting off their copies of "Edie" (btw my pal David Dalton, one of the greatest word slingers/prose stylists of our time--also a fantastic psycho-biographer--check out his excellent tome "James Dean, the Mutant King", the first JD exejesus to my knowledge to raise the spectre of the possibly possessed Other, driver Donald Turnupseed-- what's in a name, indeed?--as unwitting agent of time, causality, and mis/fortune in Dean's untimely crackup in his Porsche Spyder (my man Chris Cornell drives a very similar model Porsche-- BE CAREFUL, CHRIS!!)...anyway David had a party recently here for his new book writ in tandem with Factory photog Nat Finkelstein's snaps of La Sedgwick-- looked like a good 'un, but as it was kinda dark in this club I didn't get to inspect the goods too closely and haven't yet procured a promo copy (hint hint, David) (yep, like Al Goldstein--now sheltered from the storm by Penn Gillette I'm told, good humanitarian gesture that... I prefer not to pay retail if I don't haveta)...

All this is to say that I found myself exiled on Castle Street up in Great Barrington Mass. with Caroline on Sunday night ("on the first night of Hannukah, my true love gave to me/a cold knish and a glass tea") at the Mahawaie Performing Arts Center (Mahawaie an old Indian word meaning "Downstream" apparently, turn off yr mind relax and float), a beautifully refurbished old Vaudeville era theatre circa 1908, was in the pines up in the lovely Berkshires taking my Golem out for another walk before a crowd on the older side of the fence...true, a few rockers here and there, couple of mystic Woodstockian witches also draped in voluminous swathes of purple eleganza (and who made a beeline for Caroline, natch) but predominantly a crowd of serious-minded artistic Volk (title of great new Laibach album, btw) who applauded warmly at the end but didn't quite catch a fire as the audience at my Montreal Golem show did recently... I dunno, I played my heart out but hey it was Sunday night (just about the worst night of the week to perform just about anywhere)...yet one elderly elegant gentleman thanked me profusely for showing the film and discussing its rich resonant symbolism in light of the recent Persian Holocaust Denial Conference (would that our supposed cabal had actually faked footage of Dachau and the other camps on a backlot in Hollyweird somewhere, with Edgar Ulmer or perhaps Gerd Oswald directing)...

Was up in Great Barrington after 5 days repose in sunny LA actually, on the coast for some family affairs (cue Memphis Minnie's "Me and My Chauffeur"--Caroline had to be out there to cast hot young German director and Fassbinder heir-apparent Oscar Roehler's new film "Lulu and Jimi"--good title!), and as she doesn't drive... also a good excuse to visit my folks in Riverside, a special treat as my younger brother Stewie was also in for a visit...

and of course, besides helping out Caroline, the trip for me was an excellent excuse to return to LA on the heels of my whirlwind recording session with Chris Cornell last October to check out the current progress of that project...

and so I made a pop-in at NRG Studios last Wednesday to hear mixes from Chris' new album courtesy of producer Steve Lillywhite--and--and--and all I can say is--WOW!!!!!!!!

To hear Chris's beautiful, soulful songs again head-on in wide-screen and cinemascopic full effect courtesy of Steve's deft and sensitive production flourishes (quite psychedelic in places, which I adore) was a truly thrilling experience-- it made me blush, honestly, to hear my guitar raging so in yr face in places (axe's bold as Love)...in fact, I got misty all over again hearing this haunting, emotional music so fully realized, music which keeps playing over and over in my waking dreams...Chris is a damn good writer, creating unique unformulaic songs since his Soundgarden days (I loved "Black Hole Sun" when it came out), well-crafted songs with unexpected key changes and meter shifts (which I'm also partial too, obviously), but songs from the gut that twist all over the map and take you to far distant places into exultant, ecstatic states of mind and being (no pabulum here, in other words)...he's such a great voice too, and overall guiding Presence...anyway, 'tis one brilliant, rocking, outstanding album...and I am extremely proud and honored to be a part of it.

Woops, Caroline has just emerged from the bedroom/ cave of the golden calf exhibiting signs of extreme sleepitude to begin her ritual morning ablutions in our magenta-coloured loo ( her personal mikveh/ hamam)-- have to light the kettle/ boil the breakfast early now...

What else up in LA? Had a fine, early brunch with old friend /music hipster attorney/ NYC transplant Michael Ackerman at one of my favorite joints, the 101 Coffeeshop in Hollywood (remember the diner in "Swingers"?)... an excellent dinner with horrorshow supremo Bill Moseley at La Mandarinette...former Sexiest Man Alive Harry Hamelin (still looks pretty damn sexy) invited us to a run-through for friends and family of his "Dancing With the Stars" live roadshow about to start a national tour with wife Lisa Rinna, they were rehearsing at the Forum but we couldn't make it unfortunately :-( ...and had a hilarious sitdown/reunion with Hits editor/writer/master tummler Roy Trakin (another NYC emigre) at Canter's (best pastrami in LA), where many years ago Don Van Vliet and I chowed down at 2am during the making of "Ice Cream for Crow" (Don loved deli's, and the Runyonesque characters who inhabit them...I remember one occasion at the Carnegie Deli here around the time I brought Don out to do his second David Letterman appearance in '83...took us about an hour to walk to the Carnegie from his midtown hotel, after his usual cunctatory delaying tactics, mass observation technique in full force, and some enjoyable palaver with a couple of street walkers in front of the Hilton...anyway we eventually made it to the Carnegie, and after fidgeting at our table and finding it wanting ("Man, it's too NOISY here, I can't stand it!") he got up to move to another table as was his custom, and the astonished waiter, upon observing Beefheart's inevitable manic table-switching routine, strode over to nail him in his tracks with a withering, faux polite: "Pray tell--WHERE are you going???")

and as a postscript to these meanderings let me weave one more warped and woof'ed and tango'ed-up-in-blue skein to tell you that Caroline and I both are a couple of very, very lucky campers, indeed...

as on our way last Saturday afternoon from NYC to Great Barrington in my rented Taurus, right at the juncture of the Saw Mill and Taconic Parkways, the driver directly in front of me came, turn-up-seed like, to an unannounced, nearly complete stop, while pondering whether or not to take the Sleepy Hollow exit (yes)...

and I, slamming on my breaks at about 70 mph, was forced to rapidly swerve to the left to avoid hitting him--

and our car went into a 25 second screeching, freewheeling skid, careening from left to right and back again despite my best efforts to wrestle control of the wheel, the Taurus describing an almost 180 degree sickening arc back and forth across 4 lanes, Caroline and I strapped in and helplessly glancing, unbelieving, at each other, at this turn of the screw...saying our final goodbyes with our eyes...hurtling out of control, we could have very easily flipped over, or collided with another vehicle...

but somehow, miraculously, we narrowly missed the cars whizzing by us on both sides...

and then, with a final convulsive lurch, our car skidded onto the right soft shoulder of the highway.

and come to earth, I was finally able to brake to a complete halt in the grassy gully.

and we were out of harm's way, for a moment.

Shook, shaken and stirred, yes (Chris Cornell too had a nearly disastrous spill on his motorcycle during our recording back in October)

But, unscathed...safe.

There but for the Grace of God.

I gingerly nosed the car back onto the tarmac...

and on we drove...

(Obviously Two Believers!)

and I am on my knees everyday since

To give thanks

that I am here now

to tell the tale...

xxLove

Gary

Hidee Hidee High!

Saw an extremely entertaining and fun new show over the weekend, the new Broadway musical "High Fidelity" based on Nick Hornby's classic novel (later made into the drollest film with John Cusack and Jack Black)....

I actually met Nick Hornby when we were fellow guests on Charlie Gillett's 20th anniversary radio show on the BBC a couple years ago along with the fantastic Portugese fado singer Mariza and the great new waver/pub rocker Nick Lowe, he was a super friendly guy and I have to say that I really have always enjoyed his books (and also his occasional piquant essays on pop music in The New Yorker). In "High Fidelity" he captured the essence of manic pop music fandom teetering on the cusp of adulthood in the character of his engaging cult record collector protagonist/record shop proprietor wrestling with the breakup of his one true love after a series of romantic disenchantments. No other work of art I know captures the anguish of this particular dilemma quite as well as "High Fidelity", as Hornby obviously knows this guy inside-out, and most likely has shared many of the same obsessions at one time or another in his life (his book is rife with pop music trivia and allusions that are quite on the money)...the only near analogue might be Daniel Stern's Shrevie character in Barry Levinson's wonderful film "Diner" (1982), one is reminded of Stern as Shrevie the mad music nut singing both the high and low vocal parts of Clarence 'Frogman' Henry's "Aint Got No Home" in his car after a particularly nasty fight with wife Ellen Barkin over her innocent disregard for his record collection...

In any case composer Tom Kitt together with lyricist Amanda Green (the late Adolph Green's lyricist daughter) have fashioned a peppy, melodious and rocking score rife many witty tropes that while perhaps do not add up as songs per se as indelible as the cult songs referred to throughout the show still manage to carry the evening, particularly the second act, when things really start popping in a series of hilarious set-pieces that parody gangster rap, Bruce Springsteen, Neil Young, and a host of other icons/genres. David Lindsay-Abaire's book transports the locale of the book (and the film) into what looks a bit like Flatbush City Limits, and Will Chase is excellent as Rob the bemused/perplexed record store guy trying to keep his teenage dream of exemption from the mean old world alive and kicking while not alienating his true inamorata...some beautiful ensemble singing and dancing kept the packed theater on a "Grease" high throughout, and I was grinning when I left the theater...see it, you won't regret it!

Caught another fine couple hours divertissement at a screening on Monday of "Notes On a Scandal", Richard Eyre's powerful new film based on the Zoe Heller novel of a few years back, and found it harrowing and absolutely compelling, particularly Cate Blanchett's phenomenal performance as Sheba, a young London pottery teacher caught in an adulterous affair with one of her underagestudents, and Judi Dench as the self-described old "battle-axe" senior educator whose morbid attraction to the sexy and vulnerable Cate proves both of their undoings...the florid, swooning score by Phillip Glass was one of his best ever although I found it mixed rather too loud on the soundtrack in relation to the dialogue, but this is a minor caveat--a first rate film that will be discussed endlessly, with flawless direction and a stellar cast including Man of the Hour Bill Nighy as the semi-alcoholic writer husband of Cate (a role he seemed to have warmed-up to with his performance of a similar character in the tres amusante "I Capture the Castle")...

Tonight was a really nice special event at the Museum of Jewish Heritage downtown in the Battery as Steven Lee Beeber discussed his must-read provocative new book "The Heebie Jeebies at CBGB's--The Secret History of Jewish Punk" on a panel with some of the greatest movers and shakers ever in the New Yawk Music Biz--including cultural cat(alyst) on a hot tin roof Danny Fields, glamorous Warhol scenemaker/actress/artist turned music publicist supremo Susan Blond, and Patti Smith Group founder/guitarist/goldminer of rock Nuggets Lenny Kaye--legends all of them, and old old friends...the 4 of them alternately enchanted and cracked-up the house (particularly Danny, who was in rare, rare form) who hung intently on their every word, oldsters and youngsters alike, including one Columbia higher-mathematics undergrad on leave from Brown who is determined to teach a course on punk rock there next year...and more power to him...moderator was NPR reporter Mary Lucia (Paul Westerberg's half sister!) who had flown in from Minneapolis for this confab... to check out this book, it is extremely well-written and definitely food for thought; I for one find its premise of Jews as instigators/fomenters of cultural change/ shifters of the evolutionary paradigm (herein through popular music) thoroughly plausible (from the inside), ala Cuddihy's "The Ordeal of Civility", which I discussed in a previous blog, to whit: "When the mode of the music changes/the walls of the city shake..." (Plato)

woops gotta go meet Caroline now at a party my friend artist/belly dancer Evelyn Undine (named after Friederich de la Motte Fouque's water-spirit) is giving down the way at the Beatrice Inn...

xxLove

Gary

Beauty Is a Rare Thing

...is the title of one of Ornette Coleman's most lustrous compositions...but it is my happy duty to report that beauty was not to be found in short supply in NYC this week at all...

After winding up the Fast 'N' Bulbous European tour with intense shows in Vienna (we got multiple ovations at Porgy and Bess--one of my favorite places to play, thanks to artistic director Christoph Huber who had a blowup of one of Gerald Zbinden's photographic portraits of me taken in the black light lit inner sanctum of the H.R. Giger museum in Gruyere hanging in the long hall leading to the plush basement theatre/club, one of the nicest venues in Europe), the bucolic Tirolean town of Schwaz (the Saudades crew was out in full force there at the Eremitage, a little jewel of a club overlooking the canal at the base of some spectacular alpine slopes--special thanks to the great folks at Saudades--Anna Stowsand, Barbara Achatz, Karin Kreisel and Wolfgang--for making our tour such a success), and finally a 10 hour drive made pretty darn quick thanks to our amazing tour manager Christian Danzi took us to lovely Ljubljana Slovenia (where the promoter Bogdan Benigar treated the band to an amazing dinner, and my friends the film makers Peter Braatz and his wife Maja Weiss, who made the documentary "Gary Lucas and Golem", which aired a few years ago on Slovenian national television, filmed our concert)--I then flew back to New York for a couple days r&r (sleep is good--especially when you've been running on 3-4 hours max a night for many many weeks)...

and then revitalized/refreshed I went up to Alice Tully Hall in Lincoln Center on Monday with Caroline for the NYC premiere Zhang Yimou's fantastic new film "The Curse of the Golden Flower", starring the radiant reigning goddess of world cinema, Gong Li. I was there at the invitation of her manager, my old friend Christophe Tseng, and have to say I was blown away by both the film (a convoluted dynastic tragedy replete with palace intrigues galore, multiple poisonings, an incest subplot, the most sumptuous mise-en-scene (fantastic costumes, decor, art direction!) and sprinkled tellingly throughout perhaps the most thrilling, visceral action sequences I've yet seen in a film, sequences that apparently were not CGI generated--Zhang Yimou seems to have literally marshaled a cast of many, many thousands of extras for these tableaux, one of them, a night ambush in the woods with black-clad assassins swooping down out of the trees to overtake a royal convoy fleeing on horseback, is permanently, indelibly etched in my memory so primal it was...and what can I say, Gong Li's performance was flawless, subtle, nuanced--besides being one of the most beautiful, she is simply one of the best actors on screen today. From "Raise the Red Lantern" through "Shanghai Triad" to this production, she's never less than riveting, exhibiting profound depths of interior emotion through a mere flicker of her eyes/ tremor in her face. Her Wong Kar-Wai directed turn in the triptych "Eros" last year was one of the most erotically charged performances ever committed to film, all done without a trace of nudity or overt sexual display.

Afterwards we were invited to a private party for this elegant diva at an Italian restaurant nearby, and I sat at her table for a spell with her and her friends, talking to her about her various films and performances (my favorite is still her rowdy, supercharged portrayal of the Chow Hsuan-like nightclub diva in "Shanghai Triad", where she sings beautifully a version of one of the same 30's Chinese pop songs I interpreted on my album "The Edge of Heaven"). When we finally made to leave Gong Li graciously got up from the table and thanked us all personally one by one for coming to her party--myself, Cineaste editor Richard Porton, and Caroline- in the warmest, most sincere manner. What a great lady she is.

Thursday Gods and Monsters performed at the Milk Gallery on 15th street and 10th ave. for Czech BeneFashion 2006, a fashion show/benefit spotlighting the work of some sensational new Czech designers, and the glitterati were out in force, light bulbs a' popping...Kudos to the Czech Center's lovely Monika Koblerova and the Sunflower Children Foundation's beautiful president Helena Houdova for organizing such a glittering panoply of fashionistas, stunning Czech models, and beautiful people in the audience (many many audience members certainly as luminous/glamorous as the professionals strutting their stuff onstage). Surrounded by such a sea of pulchritude, my guys gave of their best with an explosive set after the runway presentation, and then partook of the copious drinks and hors d'ouerves a flowing...former Czech president Vaclav Havel showed up with UN Ambassador Martin Palous, and after warm greetings we melted into the night on a wave of good feelings as the charity event had raised over $50,000 for the benefit of disadvantaged children all around the world...

Yesterday was a full-on media saturation day as I took in a double header of a screening at Magno of Paul Verhoeven's new film "Black Book"--a harrowing, suspenseful account of the Dutch resistance movement in World War II, and must say I found newcomer (to me) Carice Van Houten's portrayal as the Jewish cabaret singer Rachel Steinn fleeing and fighting the Nazis overrunning Holland one of the best performances of the year. She is quite amazing really, moving from haggard survivor to gamine to tough-as-nails resistance fighter in the wink of an eye, with a porcelain white complexion and delicate doll-like features not unreminiscent of the singer Dagmar Krause. Her portrayal--and the film in general, which boasts some of the same qualities that made Jean-Pierre Melville's "Army of Shadows" so compelling-- brought tears to my eyes, and as I've mentioned previously, I do not cry very easily...

I stayed uptown and dined at Un, Deux, Trois with Caroline and Richard, and then went over the Music Box Theater on 45th Street where we met up with our friends Shaista and her boyfriend Gus and caught David Hare's new play "The Vertical Hour", which I rather enjoyed, despite the drubbing it received from Ben Brantley in the Times yesterday (I think Clive Barnes' review in the Post yesterday was much more on the money). Bill Nighy, playing a reclusive British doctor named Oliver Lucas, was of course fantastic--one of my favorite actors, scarecrow-thin and raffish with expressive body language (and it helped that he was given more or less all the best lines by Hare)-- and while the critics say he stole the show, I think beautiful Julianne Moore (a West Village neighbor, here playing a war zone correspondent turned Yale political science professor) pretty well held her own with a performance that exuded both a confident forcefulness and tender vulnerability. When we got outside the theater afterwards the chill of winter was a 'cumin in but that didn't prevent a large crowd of well-wishers and autograph seekers (including Gus!) from greeting ravenhaired Julianne Moore at the stage door...

Have to dash now! Beauty is in the eye of the beholder!

(One Man's Meat is Another Man's Poisson...)

xxLove

Gary