The Last Pogo Jumps Again

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Tofu.

Sarah Palin

H-bomb

Best movie ever

On-line memorabilia traders Molten Core gave us a bootleg of the first Ramones show in Toronto — the precise moment the time-line our project The Last Pogo Jumps Again:  A Biased & Incompleat History of Toronto Hamilton London Ontario Punk Rock Circa September 24 1976 to December 1 1978, Part One — starts.

Randy Johnston had had the incredible foresight to interview people in the audience that night (September 24, 1976) at the New Yorker Theatre and ask them what they thought of The Ramones.

Peter Gabriel didn’t like the Ramones?!  Whaaa?!

Randy didn’t catch Peter Gabriel (he’d walked out ten minutes into the show, muttering “Bullshit,”) but he did manage to catch glam-rock band Goddo‘s own Greg Godovitz.   After wondering how “…a lead-singer from New Yawk could have such a good English accent…” he summed up his impressions with a simple “They’re no Goddo.”

So today we called Greg on it (yo, bitch!) — and to talk about how he got Joey Shithead‘s pre-D.O.A. band The Skulls their first gig in Toronto’s beloved shit-hole The Gasworks.   Greg had a million stories.   Sex, Drugs & Rock ‘n’ Roll, much?

Hey, the Holidays are coming!  What better way, etc.  $12.00!  Cheap!

“Greg has stories that would make Caligula blush,” said Toronto legend Rompin’ Ronnie Hawkins and you can read them in Greg’s self-penned memoir and awesomely titled Travels With My Amp (which you can be sure kicks Anvil‘s Steven Spielberg-financed book’s ass.)  Now in it’s third printing — buy it at This Ain’t The Rosedale Library.

Our favourite stories were of Greg’s best trick:  climbing out the back door window of a car going a 150 klicks on the 401, then crawling across the roof of the car, and slipping into the window on the other side.  At 150 klicks an hour.  Really.  Read the book.

Goddo slipped out of the skin-tight silver pants of glam-rock pop band Fludd in 1975 when the core gang of punks in Toronto were fretting about where to buy black jeans and wising up to Patti Smith, The Dictators, The Ramones, et al.

But like Max Webster and F.M. (w/Nash the Slash), while they might not have fit perfectly with the trends and rules, they fit into the scene — especially with Hamilton’s Teenage Head.

Roxy matchbook cover courtesy of Gary Topp.  Greg was a  Roxy regular.

Goddo and Max Webster have both toured with them, and Nash the Slash was supposed to join them at The Last Pogo, but he broke his hand and couldn’t make it.

Nash’s electric mandolin repaired faster than his hand.

Photo by the amazing Rodney Bowes that warrants more than an italicized sub-title

Now, that’s what I call a fucking photograph: The Curse’s Mickey Skin sporting her lobotomy scar;  Dr. Bourque cosying up to Sam Ferrara;  Trixie Danger;  Deborah “Blondie” Harry, The Diodes’ Paul Robinson;  to the right of Blondie, Patsy Poison and The Diodes’/Secrets‘ John Hamilton.

Highaperture.com

Today the Pogomobile loaded up co-directors Kire Paputts and Aldo Erdic and descended on a home just east of the Don River to visit with The Curse, Toronto’s first all-girl punk band (the B-Girls following soon after.)

Patsy Poison, Teenage Head’s Steve Mahon, Trixie Danger;  photo by Rodney Bowes.

Infamous for crazy live shows, provocative lyrics, and totally embracing the Ramones-inspired ethos that you didn’t have to know how to play an instrument to be a musician, Patsy Poison, Dr. Bourque, Trixie Danger and lead-singer Mickey Skin were Toronto’s  The Curse, one of the world’s first-wave all girl punk bands.

Teenage Heads Steve Mahon, Patsy Poison, Trixie Danger.. and Mike Dent pissing;  photo Rodney Bowes

Their first gig was opening for The Viletones at the Crash ‘n’ Burn in 1977; a month later they shared the stage of NYC’s CBGB’s with The Viletones, Diodes and Dents;  and their last gig was headlining Max’s Kansas City in NYC.

They had balls.

According to the blog Model Citizen…Zero Discipline:  In December of that year (1977), The Curse accompany a group of members from CEAC to a Detroit art gallery, as guest performers.  In a bizarre post-show piece, the girls are asked to line up against a wall while being shot at with a pistol by a performance artist, while she sings “Happiness Is Warm Gun”, by The Beatles.

The Curse were one of the most overlooked bands from back in the day as evidenced by the lack of information on them on the Internet.  So we were pleasantly surprised to find out that a Trent University student wrote a discourse called (excuse me while we slip on our tweed jacket and adjust our bifocals):  “Local Scenes and Dangerous Crossroads:  Punk and Theories of Cultural Hybridity.”

Heavy company.   This was published by The Cambridge Press, which puts the “old” in old-skool (this joints been around since 1584.)  The article starts off with a zinger:  “Against theories of cultural hybridity and disembodied flows of recorded media…” and goes on from there.   In the paper, author Alan O’Connor notes that “Many of The Curse’s songs deal with sex and exploitation.   Writing in the Globe and Mail, Kay Armitage said: ‘Their sound, with its high pitched screeching vocals, is entirely different from that of the male punk bands, and that’s clearly part of their appeal. Through their lyrics, appearance and performance style,  The Curse present themselves as tough, strong, aggressive young women working  in an idiom that’s new and open enough to accommodate them’. However, an  article in The Varsity in October 1977 said that in spite of their macho put-on, the Curse would like it known that they are not dykes.

Andre Breton

The Voodoo Punk Smackdown happens Tuesday night, October 20 at Jackman Hall at the A.G.O. (Art Gallery of Ontario) in Toronto with a screening of filmmaker (and ex-junkie) John L’ecuyer’s Curtis Charm and our very own The Last Pogo.   Tix are ten bucks and change (or $5.90 if you’re a member, student, or senior);  it starts at nine.   The screening is part of the Ontario Cinematheque’s (French for film archive) Toronto on Film series.

This squirrel could kill you.

Callum Keith Rennie screams at Maurice Dean Wint in Curtis’ Charm

“It’s time to shine your shoes, it’s time to comb your hair,” ’cause there’s a double-bill (described by Eye Magazine as “scrappy“) at the Art Gallery of Ontario tonight, Tuesday October 20: John L’ecuyer’s Curtis’ Charm and our very own The Last Pogo will be screened at Jackman Hall, presented by TIFF CInematheque in a program called Toronto on Film.   $10.14 for non-members
members/students/seniors are $5.90

Not the real cover of the heroin memoir Use Once And Destroy, by John L’ecuyer

Curtis’ Charm is a tight seventy-five minute adaptation of the late great Jim Carroll‘s short story of the same name.  Blending fantasy and reality, and shot in glorious black & white, Curtis’ Charm is about the low-living high-life of heroin addict Curtis (played by Maurice Dean Wint from Hedwig & The Angry Inch) and ex-junkie Jim (Callum Keith Rennie from Hard Core Logo, natch) who tries to help Curtis ward off a voodoo curse inflicted upon him by his mother-in-law, no shit.  Ex-Headstone and current Movie & TV Star Hugh Dillon plays a White Trash Thug, and a gritty Toronto plays itself.

Real Haitian voodoo priest;  photo by Frank Polyak

Getting the opening gig that night is The Last Pogo, and they’ll be using a nice clean 16mm print (remember 16mm kids?) that’s only been used once at the NXNE screening in 2008.  Prior to that, The Last Pogo had been screened at local legend Reg Hartt’s Cineforum, and in a hilarious blunder of epic profuckingportions, booked to open for – wait for it — Richard Pryor:  Live in Concert at the original Cineplex at the Eaton’s Centre (it was pulled after two weeks because of “violent, negative reaction.”)

Handbill for Reg Hartt’s Cineforum in 1979.  If you look closely, you’ll see that the punk in the picture has a hard-on.  Reg was convinced that this detail would subconsciously attract women to the screening.

The idea was that…uh…they were both concert films, right?  So like, buses full of African-Americans tourists from Buffalo and Detroit would dig the musical stylings of  White Punks on Dope, right?  Not so much!   Brunton remembers going to a screening of it and sitting in the packed audience behind a couple of ladies, eavesdropping on this gem:  “What the hell is this shit?!  They otta pay us five bucks to watch this shit!  Fuck this, I’m goin’ for popcorn!”

The Last Pogo had only been on for about, oh, five minutes; the appearance of Viletone Freddy Pompeii was the last straw.  Little did they know the film went on for another twenty minutes.  For the remainder of the screening Brunton and his pal pretty much had the auditorium to themselves; everyone else was at the snack bar.  Gabba gabba hey-o!

The original flyer by John Pearson.

Filmmakers John L’Ecuyer and Colin Brunton will be in attendance to introduce the films and sell some swag.   Immediately prior to the screening, they’ll be hanging out at the side door smoking butts and glad-handing suits in a pathetically blatant attempt to engage deep-pockets in conversations about money (and how to get it!) for a variety of totally interesting and culturally important yet not-so-mainstream projects they’re individually working on.

The fun starts at nine.  Jackman Hall is in the AGO, 317 Dundas Street West;  use the McCaul Street entrance.    

The original press release written by Gary Topp, badly rewritten by Colin Brunton

Frankie Venom;  photo copyright Ross Taylor

It was one year ago today that Teenage Head’s Frankie Venom died.  Here’s a re-post of the blog we wrote that night.

———————————————————————————————

“It is with great sadness that Gord Lewis of Teenage Head announces the tragic passing earlier today of Canadian icon Frank Kerr, a.k.a. Frankie Venom, of natural causes.”

So said a spokesperson at Sonic Unyon Records today.

According to news reports Frankie found out he had throat cancer about a month ago.  He was able to spend Thanksgiving weekend with his family before slipping into a coma.  He died earlier today.   The funeral will be “family only”, but already Stu Pollock, one of Teenage Head’s oldest pals is starting to think about having some sort of wake.

On a Facebook page dedicated to Frankie’s passing, Hamiltonian Michael Hampson reports that “CHML news says there’s a celebration of Frankie and his music tonight at Victoria Park at 8:00;  bring candles.   Also, Candle Light celebration planned by fans at Gore Park Fountain Saturday at 7:00.

Grey Cup, 2007;  photo Tim Sebert

Frankie formed Teenage Head with Westdale High school buddies Steve Mahon, Gord Lewis and Nic Stipanitz in 1975, and apart from a break in the late-eighties and early nineties, continued to front one of Canada’s best bands up until concerts last month.  They planned to perform at the Tiger-Town Room at the Grey Cup in Montreal in November.  Gord told us earlier this summer that they’d starting writing some new tunes.

Taking their name from a Flamin’ Groovies song, and inspiration from a variety of sources (Alice Cooper’s Love it to Death, The New York Dolls, rockabilly and more) Teenage Head entered the genre of punk rock in 1976, even though they’d been alive ‘n’ kicking at least a year before the term was coined.   Unlike many of the bands that popped up outa nowhere in Toronto during that time, Teenage Head were different for a couple of reasons:  1)  They were from Hamilton, not Toronto (and for those of you who aren’t up on your geography and/or socio-political stuff, Hamilton is to Toronto as Liverpool is to England as New Jersey is to New York) and 2) They could play their instruments.

When The Last Pogo Jumps Again crew hit Westdale High School two summers ago with Forgotten Rebels‘ singer Mickey DeSadest, we tagged along with retired gym teacher Mr. Hager, who in a break from Mickey’s antics, pulled us aside and asked how Frankie was doing.   “Hey, he’s doin’ great, and Teenage Head are still goin’ strong”, we said, but really, let’s face it, he wasn’t the picture of health.   We thought Frankie’s tough Glasgow genes might allow him another decade or two, channel a bit of Keith Richards, but sadly phone calls yesterday from Viletones Steven Leckie and new Ugly frontman Greg Dick quashed that notion.

Courtesy  the collection of Imants Krumins.

Mr. Hager, Mickey DeSadest and our small Pogo crew cruised the halls of Westdale, followed by a gaggle of giggling schoolgirls, and every so often interrupted by teachers who were around when the likes of Mickey and Teenage Head roamed the hallways.   When we got to the gym, Mr. Hager told us that this was the very spot where Frankie met Teenage Head guitar-slinger Gordie Lewis — teamed up in a wrestling match.  “Who won?” we asked.  Mr. Hager couldn’t recall.  It was obvious that they were all well-liked there, and on the way out, he showed us one more thing:  A framed pictured of Gordie in the Westdale Hall of Fame, along with Eugene Levy and others.  “What about the other guys?”, we asked.  “Well…” he said, and shrugged.

Frankie Venom talked the talk and he walked the walk.  He also climbed staging, hung from rafters, rolled on broken glass, danced on tables and once, at the Colonial Underground in ‘76,  either fell through the shoddy wooden stage (according to some), or crawled underneath and punched his way through (according to Gordie Lewis.)   Amazingly gymnastic, bursting with spontaneity, with that great voice — and beyond being full of the proverbial piss ‘n’ vinegar, Frankie had, to paraphrase Gordie “An amazing talent for making up lyrics on the spot depending on whatever might be happening in the audience.  Listen to some of the live recordings — he never missed a beat.”   Talking to the Toronto Star, Gord said “He was a real punk rocker.”

Like almost all of the Canadian punk bands from the late-seventies, Teenage Head never got the respect they deserved from critics or mainstream press.  No Juno awards, virtually no air-play, but the fans spoke, and they did manage to go gold with their debut album.   Rumour has it that Frankie pawned his copy of the gold record years ago, but he said he didn’t do it for the money, but because “I didn’t give a fuck”.   A somewhat twisted rumour had it that a local Hamilton cop snatched it up as some sort of cruel revenge on one of the original bad boys, saying “..he’ll never get this back.”   Thanks to a note from Dave Howitt, that proved to be wrong:  Frankie’s old gold record is safely in the hands of a fan who bought it years ago  (Thanks, Dave.)

We had the chance to see Teenage Head a number of times in the last few years while shooting our feature doc THE LAST POGO JUMPS AGAIN (and of course, many times back in the day at the Horseshoe and the Crash ‘n’ Burn) and they still rocked.   Backstage there’d be the usual chatter and planning and goofing around — and Frankie would mostly sit by himself quietly, sipping a beer, smoking a cigarette, getting ready.  Once the announcer introduced the band, Frankie would strut out, full of life,  the on-stage persona, and while not as full of energy as he was when he was 22 (who is?), he was a total pro, always entertaining, and always seemingly loving it.

The local media had no clue;  from the collection of Imants Krumins.

And as exciting as the early shows of Teenage Head were, they continued to put on solid shows right up until their last gig a month or so ago.   Really — there was nothing quite like the audience that Frankie & Co could attract.  Here’s a blurb by Jon Sharron, posted on TOHC, that nicely sums it up:

“Me and Jules went to go see “the head” in Hamilton a few months ago.  It was wild.  There was like 8 year olds, teenage girls, bingo moms, skinheads, steelworker/trades dudes, suit guys, grandmothers, hardcore kids, death metal guys, old crackheads, goths, rappers, skaters, tattoo/rockabilly goons…fuckin’ everybody. It was cool.  This one lady was celebrating her 82 b-day at the show.  She went up on the stage (with everyoone else) and said into the mic that it was the best bday of her life.  Then Frankie Venom said (into the mic 3 times) that they were gonna take her backstage and give her “a good waxin”!  WTF?!  Her grandkids were there…she was 82! rip.”

On the number of occasion we interviewed Teenage Head for the doc, we heard barely a whisper of bitterness from any of them.  For all their talent and hard-work and stick-to-it-ness, they never pretended to be pals, but as Gord told us (and we’re going off memory here, so this isn’t word-for-word),  “I always wanted to be in a band.  Not a group.  A band.  A group is a bunch of musicians.  A band is a bunch of musicians who stick it out.”   Gord told us that the notion of Teenage Head packing it never occurred to him.  “We’ll just stay the course.”

Just one small memory to share:  about eight or nine years after director Brunton made The Last Pogo in 1978 (so this would be around 1986 or so), he was driving taxi and got a call for a fare at a house at Woodbine and Gerard in Toronto.   Much to his delight, his fare was Frankie Venom on the way to play a Teenage Head gig, dressed to kill.  Frankie climbed in the front seat, and after chatting a bit and giving directions, Frankie told Brunton that because he had to check into jail the next morning, “… tonight, man, I’m going all the way, I’m gonna put on a fucking show.”

In an odd coincidence, earlier today it was announced that Teenage Head would be the recipients of a Special Lifetime Achievement award next month at the Hamilton Music Awards.   Gord Lewis figured that made Frankie happy.

R.I.P. Frankie.

—————–

Update…Saturday October 18th, 2008

The Last Pogo Jumps Again directors Colin Brunton and Aldo Erdic picked up Zero (from Zr04) and original Viletone (and long-time pal of Frankie) Steven Leckie, and headed down the Gardner to say our last good-byes to a rock ‘n’ roll icon.  Not just a Hamilton icon, or Canadian icon — a bona-fide legend, the real deal, a rock ‘n’ roll icon.  The man had sand.

The Pogomobile pulled into the parking lot a few minutes after two, when the visitation started, and it was already packed.  A tired Gord Lewis greeted us and thanked us for coming, and he kept that up for the full two hours, like the rock-solid guy he is.  The official sign identifying the deceased said “Frankie Venom” and not “Frank Kerr”. The crowd inside and spilling out onto the front steps was much like a Head show:  an eight-year-old kid in leather jacket, wearing a Ramones shirt holding the hands of his dad, a 40′ish guy in leather jacket;   elderly people, aging punks, babies in strollers, guys on bikes, men in suits, the whole spectrum.  Lots of Teenage Head shirts;  lots of Ramones shirts.

After waiting in line to sign the guestbook and talking to a funeral about donations*, we went into the first room.  The centerpiece was a huge 4 foot by 3 foot colour shot of Frankie, a stogie sticking out of his mouth, wearing a snazzy suit and loads of attitude, staring down the camera, as though it were saying “Feck oaf!” in the thick comical Scottish brogue Frankie like to resort to.  The shot was total old-skool gangster, part of a spread in a Hamilton magazine earlier this summer.  A TV played footage of the (excellent) show Teenage Head performed last year in “Tiger Town” at the Grey Cup festivities, and bristol boards on easels covered with press from over the years were scattered througout the room.   A few articles from the mid-seventies about the high-school band made good and many bits detailing the 30+ career of Frankie Venom and Teenage Head.  The cutest article was about Teenage Head brother-in-arms, one-time manager and all-time good guy Stu Pollock going before a judge for wearing a “Fuck the Rest, Head’s the Best” t-shirt from the seventies.  “Hey, he had a good run, man,” someone said to Gord.  “Yeah, he sure did.”

The next room had a bit more weight.  A video screen looped a slide-show of Frankie over the years;  one of the aforesaid naughty t-shirts was draped over a chair;  framed photos of the band were on the wall.  Over against a wall was the open coffin holding Frankie.  He was wearing his black-leather jacket,  and clutching a mike, and there were a few notes that people had thrown in.  Someone dropped in an “Argos Suck!” button.  There were a few people sniffling, and most people looked a little shell-shocked.  Frankie looked good, but there is something odd about a cadaver:  the funeral make-up people had done a good job, but it was just a body, it wasn’t Frankie.

We went outside for a smoke and it was perfect.  Blue skies, sun shining, crisp Autumn air.  We were a mile away from Westdale High, where is all started, and according to B.F. Mowat just around the corner from the very first show Teenage Head did, a street party.  Right beside the funeral home parking lot was a pub where a half-hour into the visit there were already a dozen fans hoisting drafts in memory.

While Gord Lewis got interviewed by a TV station, long-time road manager Rob Gronfors, with suit-coat and Teenage Head shirt unravelled the ancient Teenage Head banner and secured it on the front steps of the funeral home.  Forgotten Rebel Mickey DeSadest and wife Pam pulled in, and Head bass-player Steve Mahon wearing his autographed Ramones shirt showed up.   Original brother-in-arms and childhood friend Brian “Slash Booze” Baird pulled up in his truck.  Chris Houston smoked with us, and talked about Frankie, trying to hold it together.

Like any wake or funeral or visitation, there was a mix of tears but mostly there was lots of laughter, and we heard more than a few good stories.  We chatted with one of Frankie’s sisters who was surprised there were so many people there.  “I don’t think Frankie realized how many people loved him,” she said.  “Oh, I dunno,’ I said. “I think maybe he did.”

Pink Eyes gives the one-finger salute to some band he doesn’t like.  Photo Kire Paputts

Fucked Up‘s Damian “Pink Eyes” Abraham spent an hour being interviewed for The Last Pogo Jumps Again in one of his favourite hang-outs, used vinyl store Hit’s ‘n’ Misses.  Waxing poetic about the influence of first-wave punk and raving about the Toronto bands that inspired him — The Viletones, The Diodes & more –  he was a real gentleman, punk though he may be.

Meanwhile, the Filthy Lucre Division at Pogo H.Q. fretted about the budget needed to finish the film properly (any millionaires out there, please check in.)

Film lab Technicolor made our eyes go all watery and glazed explaining the byzantine steps required these days to transfer 16mm negative — a fresh and spanking clean dub of Elizabeth Aikenhead & Colin Brunton’s short film Bollocks coming soon — to digital.  Bollocks was the film Liz and Colin made while taking a film course at the old Toronto Filmmakers’ Co-op, taken to school by teacher Patrick Lee (who a year later would co-direct and edit The Last Pogo) and shot at David’s on Hallowe’en 1977, featuring The Ugly and The Viletones (unbelievably, we couldn’t afford to bring a sound recordist with us, so no live music, but we’ve got a way of getting this into The Last Pogo Jumps Again.

While West Coast Director Tristan Orchard planned his interview with D.O.A.’s Joey Shithead, slated for next week, senior Pogo archivist Imants Krumins dug deep into his personal stash, and sent us PDFs of The Skulls (pre D.O.A., and for at least a few months in ’77 and ’78, Toronto-based) fanzine Drones.

Thanks to Imants for copy of Drones;  and thanks to Joey Shithead and The Skulls

A long day ended at the shithole called The El Mocambo to watch The Scenics tear through an almost two hour set.  The small crowd of Scenic loyalists were not disturbed by the arrival of several emergency vehicles, because one of them called them:  The Scenics were on fire.  Catch them in Ottawa, Montreal, London and/or Hamilton in the next week.

They got booed and heckled at their first Toronto gig, opening for Talking Heads in September 1977.    But first-wavers The Scenics are taking another kick at the can after thirty years as they hit the stage of the El Mocambo Tuesday, October 13 to kick off a five date tour in synch with the release of their new CD, Sunshine World.    Seven measly bucks gets you in the door, and you get a copy of the CD as well, and you know that they’re going to play their hearts out, and of course lots of beer and old friends.

Sunshine World was culled from 300 hours of tapes The Scenics made during their run from 76 – 82, and features studio-recorded tunes from ’77 and ’78.    Friends of The Last Pogo Jumps Again still scratch our heads at the lack of recognition The Scenics got back in the day (sentiments shared by, amongst others, Scenic pals Talking Heads drum/bass combo Tina Weymouth and Chris Franz.  A few years after the Scenics infamously opened for The Talking Heads at The Garys’ New Yorker Theatere, Tina and Chris said to Ken and Andy after hearing about their woes:  “What? I thought you guys would’ve made it by now.”

Ironically, most people point to the opening gig for Talking Heads at the New Yorker as the first and final straw in their relationship with the other scenesters and musicians.

September 16, 1977;  courtesy Molten Core.

Everyone wanted that gig, and promoters The Garys — who would later manage The Scenics — thought it would be a great surprise to have this great band come out of nowhere (y’know, as opposed to ones that might’ve been around for two months, lol) and be the opening act.  A special treat for the loyal fans of this new thing called New Wave and Punk.   But…not so much.  There were rude catcalls from the audience — “Boring!” — and The Scenics lost potential friends and fans as soon as the handbill promoting the show was stapled around town.

The show itself was great, but there was real resentment, and The Scenics became outsiders in a group of outsiders.  It wasn’t like they were pelted with eggs, mind you, but apart from fast friends like The Demics and some others, The Scenics somehow didn’t fit follow the cryptically infused rulebook on emerging new-wave/punk rock bands.  But sticks ‘n’ stones and fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke.  The Scenics just wanted to make music.  They didn’t dress the part, go to the right parties, or even do the right drugs.  It was all about creating music. They would rehearse and jam for hours upon hours week after week and play in every bar in Toronto, only to break it up in the early eighties, defeated by geography (Ken Badger lived in the country, and had a family and everything) and partially due to a pronounced lack of recognition, apart from their loyal yet tiny fan base. (Hi Gary!  Hi Blair!)

Courtesy Molten Core

Flash forward a few decades, and songwriting/frontman partner Ken Badger (he of the auto-asphyxiated singing style) sends songwriting/frontman partner Andy Ramesh Meyers a shoebox of tapes.  (The Scenics recorded everything.)  Andy starts to listen to them.  Obsessively.  Ken and Andy  put together an audacious collection of live Velvet Underground covers called How Does it Feel to Be Loved, and it gets critical kudos from colleges and newspapers, and a vote for the Best CD of 2008 for The Village Voices Pazz & Jop Poll from respected critic and ex-Creem Magazine staffer Jeffrey Morgan (author of the just-released official bio of Iggy Pop) who just drools over it, and it charts at colleges in Canada and the U.S.

Getting a taste of the kind of respect ‘n’ recognition that so ably avoided them during their initial run, The Scenics are inspired.   Andy and Ken call up former members Mark Perkell and Mike Young and start to make plans.  First up is the release of the Velvet’s cover CD, then a few gigs in Toronto (including The Last Pogo’s 30th Anniversary Bash.)   Apart from the new tour and the CD, The Scenics are also going to start podcasting Punk Haiku, Andy’s memoirs from the late seventies punk days, and will be putting together a new CD of new material soon.

Ken Badger in 2008;  photo by Edie Stiener

Andy Meyers in 2008;  photo Kevin Lamb

The staff at The Last Pogo Jumps Again had a chance to have a sneak read of the first one, and it’s great;  you’re right there.  One of our favourite stories is of their quest for the perfect drummer.   After going through a couple that didn’t work out, they get a new guy, and start to rehearse.  In the middle of a song, the drummer has an epileptic seizure, Ken later remarking “Gee.  I thought he finally got it.”  Check out their site in our list on the right hand side.

If you miss them in Toronto (don’t!) they’ll be in Ottawa, Montreal, London, and Hamilton in the next week.

For a much more thorough write-up of The Scenics, check out Steve McLean’s excellent blog.  Cut and paste this http://stevemclean.blogspot.com/2009/10/scenics-i-have-to-review-gaslight.html

Johnny MacLeod by The Awesome Ross Taylor.

Happy Thanksgiving (for our Canadian pals.)

The Last Pogo Jumps Again co-director Kire Paputts spent a few hours last Thursday interviewing the song-writing team of Johnny MacLeod and Harri Palm from the original most excellent first-wave new-wave punky-doodle band Johnny & The G-Rays.   M.I.A. was drummer Bent Rasmussen (now teaching diving and Ingis in Thailand) and bass-player Robert G. MacDonald.   For those of you who remember and those that might be visiting this site for some schooling, Johnny & The G-Rays were distinguished by terrific song-writing and great live shows, and were a big part of that sprawling wild scene that our film is focusing on.

After spending a couple of years in England, Johnny made his way back to Toronto when the whole new-wave thing was starting, and while his O.C.A. (Ontario College of Art) pals were doing their thing, he opted to put a band together called The Country Lads, playing country standards.    Sharing a bill with The Eels at an O.C.A. gig, Johnny palled up to Eels’ Bent Rasmussen and Harri Palm;  Harri quit the band after the gig, but Bent hung on to watch The Eels transform into an early incarnation of The Diodes.   Not long after, both without bands, Harri and Johnny sat around and jammed (yes, you can still use that term and not sound like a fan of The Grateful Dead), recruited Bent, and Johnny & The G-Rays were born.   In a quid pro quo kinda deal, Johnny and Harri are going to trade footage with the editors at Pogo H.Q. for our respective projects (a plan is afoot for a G-Rays doc.)

Stay tuned.  And enjoy your turkey.  Or tofurkey.  Or Avocado and Gelatin Turkey.  Mmmm…avocado and gelatin turkey…

Pboto of Teenage Head’s Frankie Venom copyright Ross Taylor