The Last Pogo Jumps Again

Yea, so it was 33 years ago that The Garys presented The Last Pogo at Toronto’s venerable Horseshoe Tavern.  Beauty first, safety last was the rule of the night as 800 sweating kids crammed into a bar with a capacity of 500.

A fat drunk detective waddled up from the bar around midnight to slur to Teenage Head as they took the stage that they could only play one song, and bingo — sweet fucking chaos!

The concert was captured in the eponymous short film, the riot not so much (film crew booted out) and bits of it are used in the new project.   (GEEK ALERT:  We’ve been getting High Definition transfers done of 16mm films and video footage, and its just awesome.  You see stuff  you couldn’t see in the original footage.  Mind blown.)

We’ve still got some DVD’s of The Last Pogo in stock, so … y’know…nice cheap present for someone.   Go to the Store page.  Now!  Twelve measly dollars!  C’mon!

Engelbert Humperdink rocking his ‘stache; it was always Movember for him.

Fast, cheap and good:  when you’re making a film you can’t have all three, which is why it’s taken us over five years to put our four epic together — but the end is in site.  We are what you call “picture locked”, i.e. we’re done editing — and now its all about getting people to sign release forms so we’re legal and legit.  Of course while we wait for people to mail us back the releases we continue to nip and tuck here and there and mull stuff over.  And we’re still hearing about snippets of footage that we could use (including some never before seen stuff from the Crash ‘n’ Burn that we’re going to see in a few weeks.  C’mon archival workers!   Crank up that Super-8 projector for us!)

From http://noiseaddiction.blogspot.com

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.”

Comic strip review, copyright Rick Trembles.

The absolutely coolest review our project The Last Pogo (1978) got was Rick Trembles‘ comic strip review that appeared in the Montreal Mirror as part of Rick’s weekly Motion Picture Purgatory series upon the release of the DVD in 2008.   (And hey — there’s still copies to be had for the low low price of $12.00;  visit the store.)

Detail from same review, and still copyright Rick Trembles.

We’re now talking to Rick about contributing some work for our epic feature The Last Pogo Jumps Again:  A Biased And Incomplete History Of Toronto Punk Rock And New Wave Music Circa September 24 1976 To December 1 1978.   We’d like to get Rick to create some cool maps, so people know we’re talking about London, Ontario instead of London, England, etc., but much more fun will be his interpretations of some of the stories people tell.  It won’t be old-school cell animation (too Disney, too expensive) nor will it be Toy Storyish computer animation (too eerie, too common) but rather comic strips that we’ll simply pan across and zoom in and out of (tres punk, just right.)   Dude is perfect for the job, too, because not only is he a keen artist with a sharp wit, but he’s a founding member of Montreal‘s longest-lasting post-punk band (est 1980) American Devices, so there’s that.

Self portrait by R. Crumb, copyright R. Crumb.

Iconic American device and legendary artist R. Crumb said about Rick:  “…even more twisted and weird than me.”  So there’s that, too.

The lead character in John Barth’s first novel (written in 1954, when he was 24) spends an ungodly amount of time writing an essay about the death of his father entitled:  “An Inquiry Into The Circumstances Surrounding The Self-Destruction Of Thomas T. Andrews Of Cambridge Maryland on Ground Hog Day, 1930 (More Especially into the Causes Therefore).”

Having lost a fortune in the stock market, his father hanged himself. Todd Andrews, his son, himself susceptible to the suicide gene, starts to write about the reasons behind his father’s suicide, thinking of each and every reason, every tangent he can think of  — the infinity of the past — of how this could have happened, but it’s endless.  He no sooner concludes one theory than another pops up that demands his attention; every detail seems worthy of investigation.   It becomes an unwieldy project that might possibly never end; in an office crowded with peach baskets jammed with notes after years and years of work with no apparent end in sight and…whoa, whoa, WHOA, back up the truck a sec!

Huge boner had we wrapped this two years ago.   (From yesbutnobutyes.com.)

It was only a couple of years ago that we called it a wrap. But then we realized there were a few more folks we should chat with, and they lead to a few more, and then we found some great, lost footage of Demics and Scenics and Secrets and Viletones and Teenage Head and more and that lead onto other stuff, and so on and so forth and here we are, in our fifth (and final) year of production.

Time traveling back to ’78 for more deets. Wheeeeee! (Hollywoodlostandfound.net)

Like the peach baskets full of scribblings in Todd’s office, the offices at Pogo H.Q. have boxes full of tapes of the approximately 250 people we’ve interviewed, along with piles of photos that still need to be jpg-ed, and stacks of old handbills that have;  all of it threads in the seemingly unending production of The Last Pogo Jumps Again:  A Biased And Incomplete History Of Toronto Punk Rock And New Wave Music Circa September 24 1976 To December 1 1978.

A  young Don Pyle photographed by Carm Ferrari

Ex Crash Kills Five and Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet  Don Pyle kindly sent us some photos of Tyrrana and himself as a younger man, including the one above, by Carm Ferrari.  Don wrote Pogo H.Q. a note to remind them that prior to the Ramones second show at the New Yorker, in the spring of ’77, he asked theatre manager (and Last Pogo Jumps Again co-director) Colin Brunton how he could get a Ramones’ autograph.  According to Don, Colin told him to just go downstairs to the dressing room and ask them.  Which he did.  (Is it just me or were things just a little bit looser in the seventies?)

No security concerns despite police in the poster.

Co-director Kire Paputts ventured to the wilds of Guelph, Ontario yesterday to chat with The Dishes‘ saxophone player, Michael LaCroix;  last weekend Kire interviewed Dishes’ keyboard player Glenn Schellenberg;  dishing out dishes’ details soon…

Ad for 1978′s Dishes’ EP Hot Property.

Waiting to receive our DVD of Truck Stop Women from filmmaker Mark Lester to augment the section of our film that touches on The Original 99 Cent Roxy Theatre.   Truck Stop Women was a favourite at the Roxy, where loads of people who would later be involved in the scene used to go.  Mark Lester later directed the feature Class of ’84, featuring Teenage Head.

Anywhere, Saskatchewan.

Co-director Colin Brunton is holed up for a month in an hotel in Regina, Saskatchewan meticulously grinding through the current six-hour cut (!) of The Last Pogo Jumps Again:  A Biased And Incomplete History Of Toronto Punk Rock And New Wave Music Circa September 24 1976 To December 1 1978, while counterpart and co-director Kire Paputts is living large in lurid Las Vegas with lady friend Liz Worth. (Wow! So many ells!)

Drunk photography, Las Vegas, Nevada.

While Kire takes a breather from what seems to be a never-ending quest to interview everybody who was part of the Toronto/Hamilton/London, Ontario punk/new-wave/alternate music scene slash this slash that, Brunton is alternately guzzling tap water and ordering room service, determined not to glimpse the light of day this weekend, scheming up plans for a couple of hired-gun TV series this fall, catching up on some reading (Jack Reacher rules!) and trying to stick to his Toronto body clock, which means hitting the sack at ten and getting up at six.  It almost makes him feel like he should go jogging or something, but that ain’t gonna happen.   And frankly, the sight of a 55 year old man with a Viletones t-shirt huffing down past the endless big box stores of Regina is not something you’d want engrained in your memory.   With fourteen fourteen hour days of location shooting on a TV series looming, quick evenings are devoted to making notes on the edit, and whittling down the list of Those Who Still Need To Be Interviewed.  Yes, there’s still a few more.   Hey — we want this to be complete, okay?!

Last week Kire hit London Ontario and chatted with NFG frontman Scott “Steve R Stunning” Bentley, who talked about forming NFG in late ’78 (therefore fitting into to our strict timeline) and getting a couple of opening gigs for that other band in London, The Demics.   During the shoot, they ran into Mike Niderman (sp?), who pretty much got The Demics started by convincing them to play their first gig at his loft in 1977.

Torme, not Torment.

That evening Kire set up shop at the apartment of Joey Hardin, former spiritual advisor to The Swollen Members, where he interviewed Joey and SM lead-singer Evan Siegel, a.k.a. Mel Torment, a pseudonym we’ve just discovered that John Lennon used once.   Joey slipped on his thirty-year-plus old leisure suit and demonstrated a few dance moves, and he and Evan cracked wise for a couple of hours.  In a way, The Swollen Members are a big part of why we’re taking so fucking long to make this movie.  Yea, there’s the thing about doing this on weekends, and agonizing over people’s schedules, and convincing others that they are Completely Worthy and are necessary to tell this story.  And this all costs money, yo, so some of us have to work to buy tapes and gas and transfer grainy footage and rent cars and buy lunches and all the other things that go into making a feature film project.  But what has always bugged us here at Pogo H.Q. is that when people think of “Toronto Punk”, they immediately think Viletones Curse Diodes Teenage Head Mods Poles Dents, and you fill in your personal blanks.  There was so much more.  And bands like Swollen Members just seem to be forgotten.   And they shouldn’t be.  They were audacious and awesome and alarming and always, always antertaining (wow! so many ays!)

And speaking of alarming and audacious and awesome, more respect yo, for The Scenics.  For those of you who are into porn, but are scared to buy real porn, and instead buy those “Man’s Magazines” that are, well, mostly soft-core porn — check out the latest issue of UMM (Urban Male Magazine — sorry guys in rural areas, you can’t relate apparently), and you’ll see a tasty review of The Scenics’ 2010 release Sunshine World.  They said this:  “One of Canada’s unsung heroes of first-gen punk, The Scenics reacted to slinky art-rock made popular by New York acts such as Television, The Velvet Underground, and other Warhol-esque colleagues. However, with their sublime understanding of pushing boundaries without sacrificing grooves, their low-fidelity creations are exercises in tight, post-garage accomplishments.
Celebrated on this first ever compilation of their studio works, Sunshine World provides another case in point as to why The Scenics deserve merit for being as innovative as they were- (and now are, given their reunion)- impressive.” Whoo-eee!

Monday, Kire was back in London to talk to Dan Hamilton and get some more insight into the scene in London, Ontario, and will be back again to chat with Mr. Niderman.  Okay, gotta run.

Cover of the book by Maria Raha

“Cinderella punks” is the phrase The Existers’ George Higton used to describe  the recent resurgence of first-wave punks.   We can only report what’s been going on in Toronto the past couple of years — new material by The Scenics and The Existers;  rereleases by Simply Saucer and The Mods;  old material redux by Teenage Head;  live recordings from 1977 by The Viletones and shows and mini-tours galore. And there’s an international thing happening too.  The Sex Pistols last year, The Vibrators, The Buzzcocks et al — and New York City is not letting us down and are doing it right:  the latest release from The New York Dolls got terrific reviews, and Iggy is still Iggy (except that he’s recently learned that it’s not so cool to dive into the audience anymore;  “Nobody was there to catch me!”)   Are the original first-wavers finally getting some respect?  Maybe so.  Probably not.

J. Osterberg;  photo from the ‘net, photographer unknown.

When celebrity-of-the-minute George Clooney‘s latest squeeze meanly states that Jennifer Aniston is starting to look a  lot like Iggy Pop, well, uh…we’re actually not sure how to take that.   Four-year-old kids wear Ramones T-shirts, and you can’t go to a major sporting event without hearing The Ramones screaming “Hey, ho — let’s go,” (competing with the unfathomable overuse of the theme song from The Adamms Family — what is that all about?) – shit you would just not have had a chance of hearing at any gathering of more than 75 people thirty years ago.   And you might even get beaten up for it.   (Btw — can the American Federation of Musicians get off their lazy asses and maybe fight for some royalties for these people?)

What the fuck?

So where do we start, Cinderalla Punk fanboys and fangirls?   The Diodes continue the mini-tour that kicked off in Rome, and play with The New York Dolls in beautiful Burlington July 16;  same night, Iggy and the Stooges play a free show at Dundas Square (a.k.a. garish Times Square Junior) — try and give up that standard Saturday afternoon nap, people! Grampa’s gonna rock out with his cock out!  Cheetah Chrome and Sylvain Sylvains‘ new project, The Batusis, with Toronto’s own Cynthia Ross and her New York Junk playing that old vaudeville house on Queen East, what’s it called, The Opera House!  In July sometime, more news later, presented by Gary Topp.

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