The Last Pogo Jumps Again

There’s not much we can add to the stuff that Gary Pig Gold wrote in the above article, except that Imants was a great help to our project, tirelessly answering emails and digging up obscure handbills about obscure bands.  He sadly passed away this summer.  We managed to interview him as well, back in the early (read 2007) days of our project, but frankly, he was a little nervous and we weren’t so good recording sound and the material literally won’t make the cut (but will be in one of the many DVD extras.)  And we hate to list two deaths two blogs in a row, but you’ll notice that Imants is wearing a Frankie Venom memorial shirt (see blog below) so that fits.   In any case, for those of you who can’t handle 4 pt font, here’s what Mr. Pig had to say:

IMANTS KRUMINS

Above-passionate fan, collector and champion of good music
(and Credit Risk Analyst for the Canadian Imperial Bank of Commerce by day)

born April 6, 1952, Leamington Spa, England
died June 9, 2011, Hamilton, Ontario, Canada

age 59

Like so many others around the world, my first-ever words with Imants Krumins were exchanged beneath the glorious din of some up-and-coming guitars belting
out their very first show. Imants would be near, as close to the heat as possible, not only encouraging his latest discovery but yelling heartfelt praises about and for them towards all within ear- and/or arm-shot.

But I was to learn this was more than just another night out for Imants. This was a passion. His passion. And whatever the time, place, or style of music being presented on any given night, he made sure it would soon enough become your passion as well.

Personally speaking, I had decided to start a rock and roll magazine out of my parents’ Port Credit basement in 1976. But finding little of musical value at that time worthy of expending precious typeface on, I was more than thankful Imants came my way at this precise moment. So, introductions quickly made, he led me outside to his car, placed into my hands two rare, newly imported records from amongst a hundred such gems he always carried in its trunk, and I owe the man at least one of my careers in helping me become perhaps the very first Canadian to ever write about The Saints or Nick Lowe’s Bowi.

That car, not to mention spirit and enthusiasm of Imants’ went on to play an incalculable role in kick-starting and even shaping what soon became known as the Canadian punk (rock) movement. No, Imants never played an instrument or wrote a song himself that I’m aware of (though he could always be relied upon to sing along with Metal Machine Music in a way old Lou should be more than envious of). Yet with just the simple act of being the first to drive members and fans of Teenage Head, Simply Saucer and the Forgotten Rebels out of their hometown Hamilton and in to the nascent Toronto alt. music scene, facilitating the socio-musical cross-pollination which resulted, he made a deeper and more lasting impression than Imants the mere performer, writer, or record company exec ever could have.

By the late Seventies – and it pains me to say in a way our Internet generation now takes for granted – Imants’ one-man campaign to connect the best music with the best people turned truly global as his tall, impressive frame could now be spotted outside a Kinks koncert in Buffalo, jetting to the UK to scour Portobello Road for yet more indie vinyl, or accompanying yours truly one adventurous afternoon to the ultra-clandestine San Francisco offices of Ralph Records to find out, once and for all, just who The Residents really were.

Amazingly, as many of his contemporaries unplugged, settled down and for some reason began opting for eight hours’ sleep per night, the Imants of Century 21 was still making regular jaunts to investigate the hardcore clubs of Japan, for instance, then embracing the blogosphere to report on his latest discoveries in a way he could scarcely have imagined at a Viletones show circa ’77. In fact, the last time I saw the man was over dinner at a reunion concert for The “Bird is the Word” Trashmen at Maxwell’s in Hoboken, New Jersey two years ago [see photographic evidence herein]. And ever the gentleman, I had to coax him to approach the merch table afterwards in order to collect his very own seven-inch commemorative vinyl of the night. He didn’t want to “bother” the band, you see.

His was always a gentlemanly, soft-spoken and generous existence. But I know I am far from alone in knowing that because of the man and the inspiration of Imants Krumins my record collection – to say nothing of my life as a whole – is a lot, lot bigger and better for having encountered him.

See ya later then, my friend!

Gary Pig Gold.

The Forgotten Rebels wrote this on the inside sleeve of their latest CD, the terrific live album recorded in ’08, released this summer, and featuring all of your favourite Rebels tunes, including Surfin’ on Heroin, In Love With The System, 3rd Homosexual Murder and Bomb the Boats, all of which, with the exception of 3rd Homosexual Murder, written by Mickey DeSadist and Chris Houston, the Jagger & Richards to Gord Lewis and Frankie Venom’s Lennon & McCartney.  Or vice.  And versa.   (Oh — and all of which are heard in that long overdue epic punkumentary docusomethingorother The Last Pogo Jumps Again:  A Biased & Incomplete History Of Toronto, Hamilton, and London Ontario Punk Rock And New Wave Music Circa September 24 1976 To December 1 1978.)

Commemorative poster courtesy Gord Lewis and Teenage head.

Three years ago today, Teenage Head lead-singer Frankie Venom passed away.  Here’s the post we wrote that day.  RIP Frank.

——————

“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.”

Julian Richings as Larry in Animal Control; photo by Mike Perreo
In between dodging Ukranian hackers attacking our site, shuffling scenes around in editing, and lining up the last of the last of the interviews, the crew at Pogo H.Q. have been busy doing other stuff. Co-director Kire Paputts (with partner-in-crime James Vandewater) is putting the finishing touches on his short film Animal Control. The punk roots of this production run deep: Exec Produced by The Last Pogo Jumps Again‘s co-director Colin Brunton, this unsettling and weirdly elegant fifteen minute film stars a mute Julian Richings, who appeared in the Brunton produced feature Roadkill, which also featured the handsome Joey Ramone and infamous masked man (but equally handsome) Nash the Slash (who’s kindly allowed Kire to use a snippet of music in the background) and who unleashed his eccentric persona just before Punk broke in this city.

Julian also had a key role in Bruce McDonald’s Hard Core Logo, which starred Hugh Dillon, who has weighed in on our project with his memories of Teenage Head and front-man, the late great Frankie Venom. The sound editing and mixing for Animal Control will be done by sound wizard Daniel Pellerin, he of Big Hollywood Films — and who’s also going to be taking care of all our post-sound needs when the time comes.

Marcel Duchamp’s “Fountain.”
The Dadaists in the 1920′s turned the artworld on its head by doing stuff like turning urinals on their end and calling it Art.

The Velvet Underground 1966; John Cale in the foreground.
“And there would go the secret plot, the piss had missed the hole in the pot, like that ancient teenage dream, from soul to poisoned soul to poisoned soul,” so sang John Cale post Velvet Underground, pre-CBGBs.

In Toronto, Viletones‘ lead singer Steven Leckie promised to kill himself on stage at Club Davids on Hallowe’en 1977. Pogo director Colin Brunton captured much of the performance (as well as The Ugly, Wayne Brown pretending to hang himself, and the infamous Mr. Shit eating a goober off of a friend’s hand) for the short film Bollocks that he made with Elizabeth Aikenhead and Patrick Lee; said footage to be recycled for the new movie. “I’ll be dead by the time you see this film,” Leckie said directly to the camera when we interviewed him last summer for The Last Pogo Jumps Again. “When the Viletones played CBGBs in 1977, he promised to kill himself then too, but he didn’t follow through,” said Punk Magazine co-founder John Holmstrom.

Hugo Ball; 1916.
“Dada represented the least inhibited challenge one could imagine to the ideology underlying bourgeois culture and art: it was anti-patriotic, anti-aesthetic, and anti-conventional in the extreme. It was also, in principle, against permanence, yet, paradoxically, it left a legacy of enduring works.” Ooh la la! That’s what something called the French Literature Companion said.

“All I got out of it was a headache,” said CBC personality Hana Gartner in 1977 when she listened to Teenage Head. Lead singer Frankie Venom could only shrug and grin. Thirty years later kids were still going to Teenage Head shows, and Gartner continued her long slog towards a comfortable CBC pension .

Man Ray 1922

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.

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.”

Kire Paputts and assistant editors on break

It’s hard to grasp how huge and — dare we say it? — important the whole Toronto/Southern Ontario punk scene circa 1976 – 1978 was until you’ve taken a couple of hundred hours of footage and tried to sum it all up in an hour and a half to two hours.  Hey-o!

With The Last Pogo Jumps Again co-director/editor Kire Paputts in Toronto filling in the blanks with a few more interviews, and co-director Aldo Erdic getting through his busy summer attending every single punk show in town and trying to hang on to his day job, co-director Colin Brunton was holed up in a hotel in Regina, and decided to forego the awesome night life there to kick back and look at Kire’s three and a half-hour rough cut of the film.  Boners!

We’ve a little biased here of course, but wow.   All this hard work over the past three years seems to be paying off  (NB:  paying off will probably never mean anything in the traditional “money” aspect.)  The film looks great.   The hard part now is to try and determine who should stay and who should go, da da da DA DA DA DA, da, whooo!

We don’t wanna give anything away here, but we’re pretty 101% certain that we’re gonna do everyone proud.   And when everyone gets their due, and The Garys get on Canada’s Walk of Fame, there’s a statue of Steve Leckie in downtown Toronto, the former home of Freddy Pompeii and Margarita Passion is open for tours;  when there’s a street in Hamilton named after the late great Frankie Venom, and a wing of a jail cell named for the later and greater Mike Nightmare;  when the assholes who run the Junos and whatnot finally swallow back their bile and fess up that, uh, yea, the scene was particularly fucking awesome and give lifetime achievement awards to a dozen or so musicians;  when some hotshot band does some cover versions of some of the many great tunes generated back then and make the artists a few bucks;  when that all happens, then everyone who was into the brave new world of 1976 can finally say “Fuck you, told ya so.”

And it sure goes against the general hot ‘n’ nasty punk vibe, but looking over all that footage, listening to all those people talk about the old days, watching all these bands fucking tear it up, the overwhelming feeling that overtook Brunton on Saturday night was… love.  So…uh…we love you, man!

Okay, so buy it already.  Twelve bucks.  Canadian!

As we continue to shoot and edit The Last Pogo Jumps Again, we thought we’d make a pitch to you, dear reader, to buy a copy of The Last Pogo, the 1978 punk rock doc that has an amazing batting average of .1000 with critics and bloggers.  1000!  That’s like Barry Bonds and Babe Ruth birthing a super-baby — with A-Rod acting as the doula — but without the steroids or massive amounts of booze and hot-dogs and secret over-the-counter crazy Dominican drugs!  But seriously folks:  not a bad word yet.  And it’s only twelve stinkin’ dollars!   That’s like eight or nine propped-up U.S. bucks.  And we’ve got cases of these things!

After feature articles in Absolute Pop, Exclaim, The Big Takeover and all the local Toronto rags, people said stuff like:  “Punker than you’ll ever be.” — Peter Howell, Toronto Star.   “A masterful disaster-piece.” — jspicer, Tiny Mix Tapes.  “It’s like watching a National Geographic special about some lost tribe.” — Kevin Quain, awesome Toronto musician, and our favourite “Now THIS is a fuckin’ documentary.”  — John Harvey, poet, ex pro-wrestler.

Japan’s Doll Magazine love us long time.  Thanks to Ian Warney, we’ve got a rough translation of the review we got recently.  Emphasis on “rough.”  And here ya go:

The title “The Last Pogo” makes you grin, doesn’t it?  Toronto Punk Rock has video of live show and staff interviews from Horseshoe in 1978.  The Viletones swears ’70′s punk like Johnny Rotten.  A stylish mods band called The Mods.  The Secrets strums on trash and R & R.   The Ugly were incredibly wild.  The audience gets excited by both boring and crazy playing by Teenage Head…etc.  This stuff is too good to believe it was 30 years ago!

It’s been a rotten few months in the world of old-skool punk.  In October, Teenage Head singer Frankie Venom died from throat cancer;  in January, Stooges’ guitarist Ron Asheton passed away from a heart attack, and today Lux Interior, frontman of ground-breaking psychobilly punk rockers The Cramps died in an L.A. hospital from a pre-exisiting heart problem.  His wife and original guitarist Poison Ivy issued a statement today.

We here at Pogo H.Q. were fortunate enough to see The Cramps in action in 1977 at NYC’s Max’s Kansas City, and later at the Horseshoe Tavern in Toronto.  Totally entertaining, frightening to those who didn’t get the joke, and incapable of a dull moment, The Cramps were fun and rocked, playing punked up rockabily with straight-faces and tongues slightly in cheeks, murdering it with the same intensity that The Gun Club inflicted on the blues (a common denominator of both bands being guitarist Kid Congo Powers.)   One of the many bits of memorabilia that we’ve lost over the years was the original Cramps’ business card, a campy ’50′ish card with the phrase “Will play weddings and parties!”.  We fondly remember  Lux Interior in Toronto, ripping down the handmade sequined horseshoe (that Gary “The Garys” Cormier’s then wife Martha Harron made) stitched to the backdrop of the stage at the Horseshoe, and legend has it, getting it on with one of The Curse in a gutter near the Crash ‘n’ Burn.  Good times.

July ’78 Horseshoe handbill by Colin Brunton; courtesy Imants Krumins

Ripped off from MTV:

“Born Erick Lee Purkhiser, Interior started the Cramps in 1972 with guitarist Poison Ivy (born Kristy Wallace, later his wife) — whom, as legend has it, he picked up as a hitchhiker in California. By 1975, they had moved to New York, where they became an integral part of the burgeoning punk scene surrounding CBGBs.

Their music differed from most of the scene’s other acts in that it was heavily steeped in camp, with Interior’s lyrics frequently drawing from schlocky B-movies, sexual kink and deceptively clever puns. (J.H. Sasfy’s liner notes to their debut EP memorably noted: “The Cramps don’t pummel and you won’t pogo. They ooze; you’ll throb.”) Sonically, the band drew from blues and rockabilly, and a key element of their sound was the trashy, dueling guitars of Poison Ivy and Bryan Gregory (and later Kid Congo Powers), played with maximal scuzz and minimal drumming.

Because of that — not to mention Interior’s deranged, Iggy Pop-inspired onstage antics and deep, sexualized singing voice (which one reviewer described as “the psychosexual werewolf/ Elvis hybrid from hell”) — the Cramps are often cited as pioneers of “psychobilly” and “horror rock,” and can count bands like the Black Lips, the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, the Reverend Horton Heat, the Horrors and even the White Stripes as their musical progeny.

Over the course of more than 30 years, the Interior and Ivy surrounded themselves with an ever-changing lineup of drummers, guitarists and bassists, and released 13 studio albums (the last being 2003′s Fiends of Dope Island). They also famously performed a concert for patients at the Napa State Mental Hospital in 1978 (which was recorded on grainy VHS and has since become a cult classic) and appeared on a Halloween episode of “Beverly Hills, 90210.” Their video for the song “Bikini Girls With Machine Guns” also drew rave reviews from Beavis and Butt-head on a memorable episode of the show.

Despite the band’s long history, fans generally agree that the group’s peak was in the early ’80s, with the albums Songs the Lord Taught Us and Psychedelic Jungle. Many clips of the Cramps’ chaotic live shows from the era can be found online; look for their version of “Tear It Up” from the 1980 film “URGH! A Music War.” One memorable (and typical) show in Boston in 1986 found Interior, clad only in leopard-skin briefs, drinking red wine from an audience member’s shoe, and ended with him French-kissing a woman (who wasn’t his wife) for 10 full minutes with his microphone in their mouths.

Due to their imagery, obsession with kitsch and dogged dedication to touring — they wrapped up their latest jaunt across Europe and the U.S. this past November — the Cramps commanded a loyal fanbase, and even earned a spot in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, in the form of a shattered bass drum that Interior had shoved his head through.”

(Hey — we don’t mind cribbing notes from MTV, because they’re assholes.  Do you think they ever played The Cramps in the past twenty-years?   Or The Stooges, or Teenage Head?  Or even mentioned them?  We here at Pogo H.Q. got our taste of it when we tried to drum up interest in The Last Pogo dvd release.  We were stonewalled and duffed off with an assistant chuckled “Uh, what?  You want us to cover a thirty year old film by a fifty-three-year-old guy?  Riiiiiight.”)

But enough about us.  Well, okay maybe a bit more about us.  To trace back the threads of Lux’s death to The Last Pogo Jumps Again in a kind of Kevin Bacony six-degrees-of-separation thing:  a decade after finishing The Last Pogo, in 1990, co-director Colin Brunton produced his second feature film, Highway 61 (on the heels of producing Roadkill with director Bruce McDonald, and with a cameo by Joey Ramone) and after securing funding partly on the basis that Iggy Pop was going to play a character, was flabbergasted and majorly pissed-off when Iggy reneged at the last minute.   The film that swelled Iggy’s head was a part n a John Waters movie.  Back in 1976, a couple of years before The Last Pogo legendary Toronto Promoter Gary Topp of The Garys called up filmmaker John Waters after watching Amos Poe’s Blank Generation and Night Lunch at the New Yorker in 1976 and urged him to check out this new thing called punk rock.  A month later and the Ramones would be playing the New Yorker;  two years later Waters would cast the late and legendary Dead Boys lead singer Stiv Bators as Bo-Bo Belsinger in Polyester starring Divine, and years later Iggy Pop in Crybaby.

Back to 1990 and Highway 61.  After Iggy dropped out, Brunton went into a frenzy of letters, faxes, and phone calls and tried to come up with someone –  anyone — who could replace Iggy, and who had enough street cred, and who would fit in — and hope it got the Highway 61 team out of the jam.  (The day the news that Iggy was dropping out happened, the producers got a call from the BBC, who were putting up some of the money.  After “How are you?” and “How’s everything going?” it was all  “And you’ve still got Iggy Pop in the film, is that right?” and we’re all like “…there might be a scheduling problem, gotta go!”   They had two weeks to get out of the mess, and if the BBC money fell through because they didn’t have a “name”, the rest of the financing would tumble like dominoes, and not only would we they be in a world of hurt, money-wise, but boy, would their faces be red!

The Highway 61 wish list to replace Iggy at the last minute was The Cramps‘  Lux Interior, The Sex Pistol’s Johnny Rotten and Joey Ramone — but Joey was busy, and Lux and Johnny Rotten could not be found, no way no how.   They got turned down by the likes of David Byrne, Keith Richards (touring with some other middle-aged guys that summer) Alice Cooper (who was flattered but booked), Elvis Costello (booked for the next three years), and Ozzy Osbourne (who sent a charming note with genuine Ozzy stationary explaining that “It’s hard enough being a rock star let alone trying to become an actor”)  and ended up casting Canadian Art Bergmann, who was on the original cast wish list before they’d thought of “star power” like Iggy.  And Art is still alive ‘n’ kicking on the west coast, and he did a great job.

R.I.P. Lux, and The “Black” Donnellys, the infamous family from Lucan, Ontario who were beaten to death by a gang of thirty men — in part organized by the town priest and local constable — at the stroke of midnight on this day in 1880.  Lux Interior, meet Tom Donnelly, Canada’s first punk.  Tom, meet Lux.

Greg Trinier of The Mods;  1978 & 2008;  photos Edie Steiner

As the DVD release of The Last Pogo (Toronto Punk 1978) continues to make its way to indie record stores across the globe, we’re on the last stretch of our feature documentary The Last Pogo Jumps Again.

Directors Colin Brunton, Kire Paputts and Aldo Erdic, with the help of a ton of people, not the least being Gary Topp, David Quinton, Tristan Orchard, Ollie Brunton and the Toronto punk community started shooting this in June 2006, and with a few more interviews (you know who you are!) and a few more pieces of the puzzle put together, we should be good to go in ’09.

To toss in an inappropriate Grateful Dead hippie quote, “What a long strange trip it’s been.”

What started as a bit of a lark back in 1978, making the original Last Pogo, has repeated itself 30 years later, making The Last Pogo Jumps Again.  Shooting the Last Pogo in 16mm film in 1978 was a precise, sniper-like hit ‘n’ run;  making The Last Pogo Jumps Again in 2008 is like a video game drive-by shooting where you get endless lives.  Always forgiving.

Colin Brunton and Tommy Ramone;  photo Kire Paputts

Here’s what we did in 2008:   Tommy Ramone autographed our Ramones bumper-sticker and The Stranglers’ Hugh Cornwell got pissed-off when we asked him to define “punk rock”…part one interview with legendary Toronto promoter Gary Topp (The Garys)…Roger Streets a.k.a. Roger Dirtbag and Wayne Brown and Eddie Smith and Barry Farrell…fan Paul Richmond reading his grade ten essay on punk…a fire on Queen Street West…part two with Cleave Anderson…The Last Pogo closes down NXNE 2008 to a sold-out audience…Dave “Tank” Roberts shows us how to throw someone out of a club…Nardwuar the Human Serviette sings “Cardboard Brain” in an art gallery…the hard-drive holding all of our two-and-a-half years of footage dies…The Last Pogo DVD is released…The Ugly original members Tony Torcher, Sam Ferrara and Steve Koch enlist Greg Dick as their new lead singer to replace the dearly departed Mike Nightmare…Teenage Head release a new version of their first album featuring Marky Ramone…a rejuvenated The Scenics release the CD “How Does it Feel to Be Loved” and start a second life gigging and laying down new tracks…a treasure trove of stuff with Gail and Randy Johnson of Molten Core…Liz Worth finishes her book on Southern Ontario punk rock “Treat me like Dirt”…original players at The Last Pogo :  The Scenics, Cardboard Brains, The Ugly, The Mods, and Steven Leckie join Mickey de Sadist and The Forgotten Rebels and a last-minute surprise set by The B-Girls at The Last Pogo 30th Anniversary Bash and the media ignored us just like it was 1978 again…and on October 14th, Teenage Head lead singer and punk icon Frankie Venom dies after a short battle with throat cancer.

We picked up some more clues, crossed some more ‘t’s'…and look forward to more in 2009.

Keep those cards and letters coming, folks!