The Last Pogo Jumps Again

Steven “The Dog” Leckie at The Last Pogo, photo Edie Steiner

With the dog days of summer coming on, Pogo Post Production is revved up and ready to go. We’re whittling away at the hit list of those that still need to be interviewed, plus a couple more we’d like to check in with again, and going over miles, whoops, kilometres of footage, inching, whoops again, millimetering towards our release date of March 2009, an editing epiphany, or complete mental breakdown, whichever comes first.

Up this weekend is authoring the DVD of the re-release of The Last Pogo, the original 26 minute film (Colour! 16mm! All singing! All dancing! See people smoking in a bar!) scheduled to hit your very favourite record store this October. Only seen publicly once in the last 30 years (and many times privately on bootleg VHS versions) the DVD will be comprised of The Last Pogo, some recently restored footage of The Scenics from 1977, and a commentary track featuring original Viletone and member of The Secrets (amongst others) Chris Haight. For whatever insights into the scene and the bands that the esteemed Mr. Haight offers up, it’s worth it just to hear his infectious laugh. Through the magic of digital editing, whenever Chris makes a comment you’ll see his face pop up in a box in the corner of the frame. (On a geeky filmmaker note, this kind of thing would have cost thousands of dollars back when we made The Last Pogo, and it’s only because of digital that it’s now possible. You’d also have had to rent a Steenbeck editing system — the size of a Smartcar — and be cramped in some room downtown. Now we can be cramped in some room uptown, the whole editing system on our lap, and if you slip a twenty into the hard-drive, cheap thrills galore). Flashy retro graphics by John Pearson, the guy who did the very cool titles for the original film, and a wee booklet of liner notes, this snazzy package is the ideal Christmas present. Or Hallowe’en present. Or Kwanza, or Hannaukah, or birthdays, weddings, stags, golf-dates, chance encounters, one-night stands, etc. We haven’t finalized the details yet, but ideally you’ll be able to pick this up for the low low price of $19.78. For the mathematically impaired, that’s not even twenty bucks! All proceeds will go towards replenishing the “This Used to be Ollie Brunton’s College Fund, LOL”, which has been hit hard since we started this project a couple of years ago. (In 2006 he was on his way to be able to afford a university degree; as of today, a half-semester of Refrigeration & Air Conditioning Technique at George Brown College).

While we’ve slowed down on the interviews of late (life gets in the way), we’re still well at it, buster. This weekend Ricky Swede from The Poles checked in, and we’re hoping to catch up with that iconic band sooner rather than later. We here at Pogo H.Q. remember many an awesome Poles show and the show they put on with The Viletones and The Dead Boys at the New Yorker stands out in particular. (P.S. If anyone could shoot us a jpg of the awesome poster of that concert, many brownie points will be sent your way). Director Brunton recalls the show both vaguely and vividly, the vivid moment being when he was dispatched by The Garys to fetch the slow-to-leave-the-dressing-room Dead Boys. A friendly yell down the stairs was answered by only a grunt, but minutes later they came up the stairs. “What took you so long, you’re supposed to be on stage?!”, asked Brunton. “Blowjobs”, replied a Dead Boy, then Cheetah Chrome chimed in with “Hey, we can’t go on stage with hard-ons, man”. They then limp-dicked their way through the lobby, down the aisles, and up onto the stage. Wicked awesomeness ensued.

Speaking of wicked awesomeness, one of the stongest local artists who helped document the scene was photographer/artist Edie Steiner, who checked in this weekend wondering what’s what and who’s on first etc.. Edie’s going to hunt through her thousands of photos and see what she can find from the Toronto 1976 – 1978 punk period. (See photo above). Living on the Toronto waterfront (and apparently in a large bottle of formaldehyde or something — she hasn’t aged a bit) her current bio reads: Edie Steiner is a Toronto filmmaker, photographer and educator whose work is shown internationally. Her award-winning films are presented at film festivals, in arts and education venues, and broadcast on Canadian television, and her photography is commissioned for publication and exhibited in art galleries. She has published original music with international collaborators, for films and radio. Community activities include board of director and committee positions for arts and community organizations. Ms. Steiner is currently a doctoral candidate in environmental studies at York University, Toronto, with a research focus on relationships between the arts and environmental thought. Check out Edie’s stuff on your internet machine at ediesteiner.com.

Photo courtesy Cheryl Daniels

And the Lord of Rock ‘n Roll said unto them: Yea, though it would be another few years before one or six people claimed to coin the term “punk rock”, a lot of people who were at The Last Pogo or into the original punk scene in Toronto got a lot of their counter-culture edjamucation at The Original 99 Cent Roxy theatre courtesy of Gary Topp. After doing some programming for the original underground cinema in Toronto, Cinecity, and running his art-house film distribution company Topsoil, now-legendary promoter Gary Topp opened up the Roxy in 1972 with screenings of Hendrix at Berkeley; when he left in the mid-seventies he opened the New Yorker, where Toronto got its first taste of the Ramones, John Cale, Talking Heads, Dead Boys, Viletones and more; and then the Horseshoe in 1978, the last big party there being The Last Pogo.

Famed for an eclectic selection of films ranging from Antonioni, Fellinni, Truffaut, and Bunuel; B-films by Russ Meyers and Roger Corman; up-and-comers like Scorcese and Coppola; and obscure films by Kenneth Anger or Andy Warhol, the Roxy was infamous for it’s lax policy on pot-smoking and psychedelics, and there was often a thick cloud of weed hovering throughout the theatre. They didn’t tolerate dealers, they didn’t tolerate drinking, but it was a safe haven for anyone who wanted to settle down to a couple of good movies, grab some popcorn, and pass the joint.

The show would start from the moment you bought a ticket: often the people in line would be entertained by Lance Charles, doing his horrible and/or hilarious imitation of Groucho Marx, depending on your sense of irony and/or amount of illicit drugs in your system. There could be five hundred people lined up for a midnight show of Pink Flamingoes when someone from the theatre would run out and yell, “Sorry — you’re lined up the wrong way, you’ve gotta line up over there!”, and watch as 500 stoners scrambled laughing to regain their proper place in line.

When you handed over your ticket to get ripped (and thus allowing yourself into the theatre to get ripped), the person at the door might hand you a “laughing pill”, the better to enjoy the all-night comedy festival with (in reality a “milk-sugar” pill; placebos work); they might insist that you go down to the men’s washroom to check your coat (when such a thing didn’t exist), and then when you come back confused, threaten to throw you out if you didn’t find it and check your coat immediately; they might offer you a refund if you could identify then-unknown British rock star Bryan Ferry. Or handing over your ticket they might say “Please go right to your left, there’s no seats left on your right”, which for anyone who might have a head full of L.S.D., a Zen-like puzzle to rival that old “If you come to a fork in a road, and there’s two people there, and one of them always lies, and one of them always tells the truth, blah blah blah…” It was all in great fun, it was always entertaining, it was the best.

If you were taking a breather from being in the stifling 500 seat art-deco theatre, you could get lost in the posters, handbills, stickers, and photos that plastered the lobby (see photo above; check out the first quote on the poster), or be giggling and stoned sitting slumped on a couch or getting stuff at the snack bar from Jeannie the Popcorn Lady.   Once you got into the theatre proper, the show would really start: Gary would have the reel-to-reel tape recorder blasting out a mix-tape of music always in keeping with whatever theme the night held; or the tunes would be played over a half-hour or so of “Coming Attractions” while people filed in. As stoned as they mighta been, the ushers were excellent, politely getting people to move over to squeeze in others or luring patrons out of their seats if they heard the tinkle of a booze bottle hitting the floor. And often talking down someone having a bad acid trip.   And occasionally wrestling with them.

If you were a projectionist into your job (hey, Bob Cardwell! Hey, Les Popliak!) it was a demanding but fun gig and Gary would give very specific instructions: “Okay, so when you hear Do the Strand just start to fade, slowly dim the lights in time to the music, and as soon as the song ends, kill the lights, and then open the curtain and start the movie…”   A buzzer on the wall near the back of right-hand aisle sent signals to the projection booth for volume; the volume was always cranked to the max when the first chainsaw revved up in the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. If you were a projectionist not so into your job, it was a nightmare. The good projectionists had snacks sent to them via a tray on a rope that would descend from the projection booth, right over the left aisle; and the ones that were game would enjoy the various joints that were being passed around the office.

Last Pogo director Colin Brunton worked as an usher there and got the film bug and met his future wife; masked musician Nash the Slash premiered there (performing a jaw-dropping live accompaniment to the Bunuel/Dali classic Un Chien Andalou and an appreciative and wasted packed house) and ended up living in the flat above, a modern-day Phantom of the Opera; regulars included the Viletones’ Steven Leckie (“Seeing Les Enfants du Paradise there changed my life…”, Raving Mojo and digital artist Blair Richard Martin; The Existers’ Barry Farrell; the Scenics’ Mike Young; Greg Godowitz; D.J. David Marsden; original Poles manager Bruce Appelby…and on and on and on.

There are way too many memories of the Roxy to jot down in a blog (and let’s hope Topp writes the book someday) but that’s the very place where many a creative seed was planted, nurtured, then rolled up and smoked.

(As with many of the old haunts in town, the shell of the Roxy still stands and will soon find a new life as a convenience store.)

Chris Haight at the screening of The Last Pogo at NXNE, June 2008.

We’re making plans to get The Last Pogo out on DVD by December 1 this year, the 30th anniversary. Since the original Pogo is but a scant (yet action-packed and aurally exciting) half-hour, we’re going to beef up the DVD to a full two hours with “extras” and a couple of “easter eggs”. We can’t tell you what the easter eggs are going to be (for the non-tech-savvy of you, an “easter egg” is a hidden extra usually found while clicking around the main menu) but one of the extras will be a commentary by original Viletones’ guitar-player Chris Haight. What’ll make this a bit different than most commentaries is that a tiny head of Chris will float in the corner of the screen while the rest of the screen is filled with The Last Pogo. Chris’ commentary is hilarious: at first he can’t remember that he was even there, but then proceeds to make some great comments on the bands and characters you see in the film, including himself in The Secrets, the band of ex-Viletones who on the night of the Pogo were also playing the Beverly Tavern, and literally had to run down Queen Street to hit the stage in time. And the adrenalin shows. Another extra will be some recooked studio footage of The Scenics, with the audio juiced up by Scenic Andy Meyers.

We’re aiming for a suggested retail price of … $19.78 (get it?!), which is also the new price for our snazzy retro Last Pogo t-shirts (once the webmaster gets the PayPal thing figure out). Stay tuned for more info on where you can get the DVD, and of course, all the news that’s fit to print on the progress of the sequel — and reason for this blog — THE LAST POGO JUMPS AGAIN.

In addition to all the people we promise to interview, but haven’t gotten around to yet (Steve Koch, Nora Currie, Patrick Lee, Anna Borque, Johnny Garbage Can, Isobel Harry, Gary Cormier, Stephen Davies, MIchael Jordana and more…it’s hard to keep track), we’ve recently been contacted by Evan Weber of The Wads who will wax poetic on all things Wad-ish at some point in the future, and we hope to make return trips to chat with Steven Leckie, Gary Topp and Gary Pig Gold.

We’ve also been contacted by an old buddy who might be able to unearth some old video of The Ugly from 1978, as well as recorded interviews with the likes of the Viletones and Teenage Head. He just has to convince the ex to let him in the door. Fingers and other things crossed.

And if that ain’t enough, kultural king Gary Topp has found a 32-year-old reel-to-reel recording of his band Corvettz, featuring drumming by Chris Massingham and “bass playing” by Pogo director Colin Brunton. Truly underground, they never made it out of the basement of the New Yorker theatre, where they were legends in their own minds with a hit song “Let’s Roam”, and a killer version of “Hava Nagila (sic?)”. The only way Topp could top that discovery was by coming up with a new “cut line” for The Last Pogo: “Just like The Last Waltz, but with different bands”.

Gary Topp at NXNE 2008.  Photo by Albert Lee

The first public screening of The Last Pogo in 28 years closed out the 2008 NXNE Festival in Toronto to a rowdy sell-out crowd. Pogo director Brunton introduced members of the audience who were in bands that played the Last Pogo concert in 1978: Andy Meyers, Ken Badger and Mark Perkell of The Scenics; Vince Carlucci of The Cardboard Brains; David Quinton-Steinberg of The Mods; and Chris Haight of the Viletones and Secrets. Saving the best for last, the final introduction was of legendary Toronto promoter Gary Topp, one-half of The Garys, the guy who brought The Ramones, John Cale, Wayne County, Dead Boys, Talking Heads and way more way cool artists and films and events to Toronto during those heady punk days and beyond, and who has been the most vital, interesting, and eclectic promoter of the arts in Toronto, period. Seriously. If you did nothing else for cultural diversions than attend Gary Topp shows, you’d be doing just swell thank you.

It was awesome to watch The Last Pogo on a big screen; a DVD doesn’t do it justice, and the optical track is so much more richer than the sound that creeps out of a computer. As Brunton told the audience before the lights went down, the last time it was shown properly, on a big screen, was at a Cineplex movie theatre in 1980. Cleverly booking The Last Pogo with another concert film, it pulled in a $100 a week, was shown a dozen times a day — and was unceremoniously yanked from the theatre after two weeks when it continually received, quote “A violent and negative reaction…” unquote from the audience who were paying their five bucks to see the concert film it was opening for – Richard Pryor Live in Concert. Needless to say, the largly urban black audience didn’t take much of a shine to the lily-white/beyond the pale Toronto punk scene. On the other hand, it was apparently a big hit with the ushers and snack-bar kids.

The fact that the screening was literally across the street from the Much Music Video Awards seemed to strengthen the consensus that the music in the film stands up well to the test of time. (Was it because each of the bands in The Last Pogo had distinct unique sounds — or because most if not all of the bands at the MMVA sounded wearily similar? We’ll give it six of one, half-dozen of the other). Like a fine-wine aging for thirty years (or a solid Canadian beer that hasn’t turned skunky), you could imagine any of The Last Pogo bands making an impact these days. If they knew the right people. And kissed the right asses. And wore the right clothes with the right hair-cuts and were the right age and had the right politics and all the wrong right stuff that in 1978 we all properly rebelled againts. Kids these days.

Okay, so if you haven’t visited before, here’s the deal. In 1978 we made a short film called The Last Pogo, about a very cool concert presented by legendary promoters (winners of a Toronto Arts Award) The Garys.   They pulled together some of their favourite Toronto/Hamilton bands:  Teenage Head, The Viletones, The Ugly, The Mods, The Secrets, The Cardboard Brains and The Scenics played, and by the end of the show, there was a near-riot.   Now it’s thirty years later, and we’re making a sequel-of-sorts, The Last Pogo Jumps Again, a documentary about ghosts from the past;  a cross between Michael Apted’s Seven-Up series and Christopher Guest’s This is Spinal Tap.   We’ve been shooting stuff since June 2006.   All the original bands from the show are on board, and then some, including Tommy Ramone and Cheetah Chrome. We’re trying to nail down what this punk rock thing was and is, aiming our sights on the specific period from September 76 to December 78, if you’re keeping track.

On June 15th, we’re going to show the original movie, The Last Pogo, in Toronto at the NXNE Festival; it’ll close the festival out at the National Film Board.   This will be the first time it’s been played in public in almost thirty years.  There’s more NXNE news: our buddy Chester LeBeaux is going to show his awesome “rock video” of The Scenics, one of the bands from The Last Pogo, on opening night. And on same said night, The Scenics themselves will be playing at Rancho Relaxo. So be there, be square, and all that stuff.