The Last Pogo Jumps Again

A phrase that could mean different things for different people (and I mean you!)  Suffice to say, here at Pogo H.Q. we’re ramping up all of our work on The Last Pogo Jumps Again, and hope to picture lock this winter, and then go through the grueling post-production phase and get this sucker out there in 2010.

While co-director Brunton makes his yearly pilgrimage to Indian Head, Saskatchewan, directing and editing duties will be handed off to co-director Kire Paputts.   Holed up in his Super-8 Motel (now with touch-tone phones!) Brunton hopes to dig up some more gold vis a vis lost and forgotten footage of Toronto in 1976 – 1978.   The more ya dig, the better you feel (beans beans at every meal.)   Kire’s got a whopper of a line-up of people to catch up with, and even though sometimes it seems as though Everyone In The Universe is only a half-dozen degrees of seperation from either Kevin Bacon or ye olde punke scene, we do gotta call it quits at some point, so we’ll be doing our best to wrap things up.

Text from Neuromancer;  tattoo by Nigel Palmer, Temple Tatu, Brighton, England.

Of course, there’s always the wish list of celebs we’d love to get to spice up attention and beef up the cred, and that takes relentless pursuit and tons ‘o’ luck.  People like:  Novelist William Gibson (“Was it the Toronto punk scene that inspired you to use both Screaming Fist and New Rose in Neuromancer?”);  Sting (“A lot of people claim to have been at The Police’s debut at the Horseshoe Tavern in 1978.  Were you there?”), and Punky Dogfathers Lou Reed, Iggy Pop, and John Cale.

The Dead Boys’ Stiv Bators;  photo copyright/courtesy of Rodney Bowes

We’re still on the hunt for any footage of Toronto circa 1976 – 1978, especially y’know, punky stuff — and we’re still scouring the archives etc for stills of some of the old Toronto clubs from back then:  Crash ‘n’ Burn, Horseshoe, New Yorker, Davids, Turning Point and all the others that we’ve missed.   So don’t be shy!

Until next time…

Steven Segal and a panda.  Copyright HimalayanExpeditions.com

After sending nasty emails to Radio Silence in NYC, about some show in Toronto featuring The Last Pogo they were promoting, but that we’d never been informed of (hello!), we’ve cleared it all up.   The Radio Silence folks were associated with a Toronto company called Embrace Presents who got permission from our p.r. guy, but he either forgot to tell us or we forgot he told us, but then the show couldn’t happen anyway because there was a Pillow League fight set happening that night and blah blah blah.   After chatting with all parties, all is cool, and there may be a screening sometime this fall.

Decent maxima mea culpas all around.

Go Blue Jays!

Last weekend we spent a few hours going over some of the hundreds of hours of footage we’ve compiled since starting to shoot The Last Pogo Jumps Again three years ago — and this not counting the equally humungous pile ‘o’ footage that co-director Aldo Erdic has, nor the batch of footage we’ve dug up from other filmmakers and broadcasters.

Compelling, hilarious, occasionally heart-breaking — and with lots of interesting chatter, we certainly have enough stuff for a feature — but are greedy for more.   But as much as we’re intent on continuing to search for more footage of Toronto, the “talking heads” aren’t as static as we’d originally feared.   We’ve been in contact with various Toronto filmmakers who were active back in the late seventies, and still trying to grab as much footage as we can to make our deadline of finishing this sucker sometime in 2010 (hey, good things take time.)  As we’ve noted before, Toronto was and is rich in some pretty great artists, filmmakers and photographers and so hats off to all of you. (You know who you are.)

For 99% of the Toronto rock audience, Toronto 1977.

We’re not just looking for any super-8, 16mm, and/or video footage of bands from ’76 – ’78, we’re on the hunt for virtually any footage of Toronto back then.   Local filmmaker Alan Zweig has joined the fray lately and is crawling through his attic looking for some 16mm footage of — whoo-eee! –  Yonge Street from 1976;  King of Super-8 John Porter is chatting with us about some way-cool pixellated stuff he shot;  today documentary master Ron Mann has filled us in on some stuff he shot in 1978.   This stuff is gold.

It’s the kind of footage we’d run underneath someone’s interview, and we’ll be able to remind ourselves just how many people back then had mullets, flares, and cowboy boots.     We’re not so much deep-pocketed, but at the least we can promise you a snazzy 21st century DVD dub, and you get your name in the credits of a bona-fide motion picture.  Home movies, commercials, industrials, errors, omissions, whatever — we need your stuff!

Voyage par la route! This weekend Kire Paputts packed up the Pogomobile and headed off to Montreal for some R & R, and to spend sometime with Bongo Beat’s Ralph Alfonso.   We hope to get Ralph to fill in the blanks on some questions we have about The Diodes, his publication of Liz Worth’s “oral history of Toronto Punk and beyond”, Treat Me Like Dirt as well as our usual inquiries. (Six degrees of separation note:  the cover graphics of Treat Me was done by Marc Duboisson who in the mid nineties was on a couple of awesome East York Little League ball-teams, ineptly coached by Last Pogoer Colin Brunton.)  Cover photos by the one, the only, the Don Pyle, who is also the young dude on the cover, and edited by Gary Pig Gold.  Cha-cha-cha!

At The Last Pogo 30th Birthday Bash in November 2008, original Viletone (and one of the first founding fathers of Toronto punk) Steven Leckie spoke of the huge influence Gary Topp, The Garys, and Gary Topp’s rep movie theatres the Original 99 Cent Roxy and New Yorker Theatre had on him.   With a creaky memory (and not having instant access to the footage), to paraphrase Leckie:

“I remember more lines of dialogue from A Clockwork Orange than I do things my father told me.”

This seemed appropriate to mention, since yesterday staffers at Pogo H.Q. were feeling a twinge of the old ultra-violence when it came to our attention that something in NYC called Radio Silence had arranged the Toronto Weekend, a screening at an undisclosed Toronto location of punky films Not Dead Yet and The Last Pogo.  And we hadn’t been informed, which is beyond rude.   However, Nathan from Radio Silence sent us a note this morning, and they are innocent!   (We’ll post later about the conclusion to the confusion.)

The staff at Pogo H.Q. contemplate visiting Radio Silence people in NYC.

Kat Citroen, touring her art show in Germany with husband Richard Citroen (ex-drummer boy of The Diodes) sent us these pics from the Ramones Museum in Berlin.  Kat promises to bring The Last Pogo Jumps Again crew a Ramones Museum bumper sticker to adorn the Pogomobile.  Heil, ho!

Freddy Pompeii, 1978;  Photo courtesy Don Pyle. Watch for Don’s photo book coming soon.

Last weekend, while some of The Last Pogo Jumps Again crew were busy with Danny Fields (see blog below), another contingent were battling a day of rain on a roadtrip to Phillie to interview original Viletones guitarist Freddy Pompeii.

Viletone Chris Haight and his son, LPJA co-director/editor Kire Paputts, guided by the voice of Family Guy’s Stuey on the GPS, made their way to darkest, deepest Philadelphia to spend a couple of days with Freddy and ex-wife (and good pal) Margarita Passion.    Upbeat and candid, Freddy spoke about the origins of The Viletones, how fucking cool it was back in the late-seventies, and his own history of punk, from his days as a Toronto folkie to the The Viletones to The Secrets and finally to the heroin bust in Ottawa that sent him back to the States.  Now retired (punks retire?!) as a painter, Freddy battles his demons with a methadone program but the various trials and tribulations of his life as a rock star haven’t dampened his spirits, and with the Gift of Gab he’s always had, we got some great stuff from the esteemed Mr. Frederick De Pasquale.  And along with the stories, a tape of a never-much-before-seen TV appearance by The Secrets.  Boners!

Chris Haight, Margarita Passion and Freddy Pompeii;  photo Kire Paputts.

Along with his awesome musical accomplishments and stories (including learning how to play the electric guitar while a “…guest of the Provincial Government for a few months…”) Freddy and then wife Margarita Passion owned and operated the original Toronto punk clothes and music store New Rose.   Yesterday we went down to the site of New Rose, hooking up with long-lost prodigal son Michael Dent and Dave “Tank” Roberts, the most beloved of all bouncers, and close pal of Punk God Joey Ramone.  Just out of therapy for the new knees he got earlier this year, off the butts for two years now, and losing weight, Tank was the picture of health.  We were hoping for a tour of what once was New Rose.

Mike Dent across from the site of New Rose.

A TD Bank now takes up the space.  After greeting the Muslim manager with the standard Muslim greeting (“Assalamu alaikum, ,sister”), we told her that this was an historical musical site, and asked for permission to shoot Dave and Michael giving us a tour of what was where back when.  As expected, a call to headquarters was needed, and knowing we wouldn’t get word within an hour,  if at all, we went outside and around the corner to another historical musical site:  the house that Freddy and Margarita lived in in the late seventies. (Update:  we got a call today from the branch manager who gave us the thumbs up to come back and shoot inside.  Amazing!)

Dave “Tank” Roberts with new knees and pink lungs;  photo courtesy Mike Dent

“Hey, there’s gonna be a brass plaque here one day,” Brunton said to the two guys that walked out of the house after we’d set up the camera.  “This is where Freddy Pompeii and Margarita Passion lived!”   They were impressed.  Not.   “Yeah,” one of them said, “I’ve heard of The Viletones.  I’ll…I’ll google…the other people,” and they were gone.

“Y’know, they’re really should be a plaque here,” said Dave.  And Gary Topp should have an Order of Canada, and The Garys should be on the Canadian Walk of Fame (or whatever it’s called.  Brendan Fraser is there.  I repeat:  Brendan Fraser is on the Canada’s Walk of Fame.  Really!?)  There should be lifetime achievement awards to Teenage Head, a statue of Steven Leckie when he croaks, and tons more but whaddya do.

Dave and Michael told stories about hanging out there with Freddy and Margarita and dozens of others, drinking beer, playing records –  and how ex-Wild Things keyboardist Bill “The Count” Cork used to sleep in a coffin in the backyard, until the local health board told him it wasn’t, y’know, so healthy.

Kire Paputts with his weapon of choice;  photo courtesy Mike Dent.

After tales of the Freddy & Margarita estate, we set up across the street on the steps of a church to interview Michael Dent, sporting a T-shirt with his image and the word “Asshole” underneath.  But the Parliament and Queen area, having not completely succumbed to developers, gentrification, and a Starbucks and/or fitness centre on every corner, etc., is still refreshingly run down, and so are some of the locals.   We were distracted by a homeless couple who were intrigued by our fancy-ass camera and total tight-shitness.   And they were chatty!  The woman (who we’ll call Mary) explained that her boyfriend (who we’ll call Earl) was too shy to be on camera (Uh, wait a minute?  Are we going to be filming you guys?).  But Mary wasn’t shy.

“I was a straight-A student, I was a model, I was in theatre in school…I wanna get on the plane to Hollywood…”

Frankly, it wasn’t like our agenda for the day was exactly jam-fucking-packed, so why not let them play too?   We told them we’d give them a twenty each if they signed a release form, and that was it.  While Earl played with his kite, Mary tore into a wicked stream-of-consciousness thing, maybe a play, and then started singing The Good Ship Lollipop and other hits and plays and thoughts.  She’d pause only to ask us if we could send her to Hollywood.  And to complain that Earl wouldn’t marry her.

“He’s scared of relationships,” she explained.

She asked us again if we could please just send the plane to Hollywood and why she and Earl were so disappointed at Ontario Place the night before.

“My fucking sister lives in a mansion in Nova Scotia and she couldn’t give us thirteen bucks to go to the show!  She lives in a mansion!”

She shifted into another jittery stream-of-consciousness blur on her old life (straight “A” student;  loved drama in high-school) her new life (mental illness; father in rest home), and what happened in-between (too many jobs; a nervous breakdown; getting meds)   Not wanting to be rude, but y’know, wanting to actually shoot something we could use in our movie, we gently tried to shoo them off.  We gave a five to a guy who was starting to hang out with us, and let another guy take one of our bottled waters.  They finally headed off down the street to a shelter for a meal.  But Mary wasn’t quite done;  she tried one more time.

She asked us again:  “Can you send me the plane to Hollywood?  Can you please send me the plane to Hollywood?”

View from a plane of the Hollywood sign.

It was heartbreaking and funny and what are you supposed to do? so we pulled out our cell phone, and speed-dialed Our People. 

“Can you send the plane to Hollywood for us? (pause)  Oh. (pause)  Okay, what about a helicopter, then? (pause)  I see.” Mary watched eagerly;  Earl walked his bike and dragged his kite. “Too much cloud cover, eh?” we said to the dial tone.  We broke the news to her.  “Sorry, Mary, but they can’t send the plane to Hollywood today.  Maybe some other time, eh?”

Mary didn’t seem bummed out.  She’d probably already maxed out on let-downs, and she thanked us again for the cash.

“Please show the movie to my Dad.  He’s at that rest home at Main and Danforth.”

Earl finally perked up.  “Hey, wanna see where I lived last winter?!” he asked brightly.  He pulled out a cell phone (yes, homeless people can have cell phones too, don’t freak out) and showed us a picture of a small wooden shelter, about four by six feet, covered in snow.

“It was all really good two-by-fours, it was warm.  I had a TV in it, and a surround sound stereo system, and a punk record on the wall, the one that was shaped like a heart?”

(Yes, homeless people can have surround-sound stereos too… wait a minute, wtf?!)   We finally told them we really had to get to work, and they went to the shelter for a meal.

The Last Pogo Jumps Again crew travel back in time to when Hollywood was cool.  There was no sighting of the Plane from Hollywood.

After waving goodbye to our new pals, we finally settled in to interview Michael Dent.  After fronting the punk-pioneering (i.e. they started when it all started) The Dents, the lure of cheap and good heroin drew Mike out to the Left Coast, Vancouver in particular, and downtown to be precise.   Three bad moves.    Just like Freddy, Mike eventually tired of the whole thing, enrolled himself in a methadone program, and moved across the Georgia Strait to the city of “the newly wed, and the nearly dead,” Victoria, B.C. Not quite as cool as The Kinks song of the same name, Michael earlier this year fully came to his senses, realized he was actually living in Victoria and packed up his stuff and moved back to Toronto.  He’s been clean for ten years.

Along with spoken word performances, photography, and a near obsession with Facebook, Michael’s gotten back into what he was doing back then: being a stage techy, and he recently re-hooked up with old pal Gary Topp and helped out at the Jonathon Richman show last week. 

“Really, if it weren’t for The Garys, I wouldn’t be here today probably,” he said, and Dave Roberts agreed.  “The Garys were the best. Every year on my birthday, Gary Topp phones up and sings Happy Birthday to me.  Or else plays it on his ukelele or whatever.”

In the first days of the “scene” in Toronto, apart from being a regular at Gary Topp’s Original 99 Cent Roxy and New Yorker Theatre and The Horseshoe, he made a living being a stage-tech, and started his band The Sneakers with some buds from high-school.   Booked to open for The Diodes at their Crash ‘n’ Burn club, he was surprised to see that another band called The Dents were actually opening.

“Who the fuck are The Dents?!  I thought we were opening?!” Mike asked Diodes frontman Paul Robinson.

“Well, we didn’t like the name.  So you guys are The Dents now.”

And so it was.   Michael gave a lot of credit to Stephen Davies.

“He taught me how to write a rock ‘n’ roll song.”

Mike did stage duties for friend Nash the Slash, toured the States, went to a bazillion shows, and generally had the time of his life.   The Dents played all the clubs in Toronto:  The Horseshoe, the Crash ‘n’ Burn, David’s, The Turning Point.  The best gig ever?  Playing CBGB’s in NYC, thanks to friend Lydia Lunch.  And like so many kids in Toronto who went on to form their own bands, was at all three of the first Ramones gigs at the New Yorker Theatre, September 24 and 25, 1976.

“I was at Records on Wheels, and by the time I’d heard half of Blitzkrieg Bop, I’d bought the album and tickets to all three shows.”

Buy this book.