The Amazons: “Brother P-Touch”

The Amazons: “Brother P-Touch”“Brother P-Touch” is a song I originally wrote for the Ho Hos that became a flagship number for my last San Francisco band, the Amazons. I share it here with a San Diego twist and a fun anecdote about the power of Web distribution.

When I penned this number around 1993, I was writing about printers for MacWEEK magazine. The Brother P-Touch was and remains a very popular line of label printers. When I first heard the name, I pictured this lecherous messianic figure, kind of a cross between Rasputin and David Koresh, and built the song from there. The chorus leads with the exhortation, “Brother P-Touch — raise your arms!” I don’t think any of my San Diego expat bandmates ever realized I was evoking not only a charismatic preacher but the Penetrators’ song “Nervous Fingers,” during which those of us in the pit would raise our arms and wiggle our fingers.

Read moreThe Amazons: “Brother P-Touch”

Sonic Love Affair: “The Dirty Kids”

(Che Underground prodigy-turned-full-grown rocker Dylan Rogers tells the San Diego story behind the music.)

Sonic Love Affair: “The Dirty Kids”Unlike most people on this blog, I will be starting from the end, not the beginning.

Sonic Love Affair recorded “The Dirty Kids” summer of 2006 at Wally Sound in Oakland, California. This is one of the 12 songs recorded for a second album, which was not released. Soon after the band split.

Rob Alper (guitar); Curtis Franklin (guitar); Jerry Fiore (drums); Rudge (bass); Dylan Rogers (vocals). Produced by Wally.

I had written these lyrics about eight years earlier in my apartment in Brooklyn, New York, only to toss them aside for years.

I had been thinking a lot about my childhood in the neighborhood of Ocean Beach. I was not just thinking about myself but all the kids who grew up in O.B. Kids who led a fast-paced life at very young ages, dealing with adult situations and too young to cope.

Read moreSonic Love Affair: “The Dirty Kids”

Three Dog day afternoons

Detail: Rockin’ Dogs Cole Smithey, Sam Wilson, Jane Bunting, December 1984 (collection Cole Smithey)Courtesy of Rockin’ Dogs drummer and band archivist Cole Smithey, here’s a collection of photographs from the band’s last phase, when it became a trio with the departure of founding guitarist/vocalist Dave Ellison.

In addition to Cole, these pictures from late 1984 and early 1985 feature Sam Wilson (guitar, vocals) and Jane Bunting (bass, vocals).

Detail: Rockin’ Dogs Jane Bunting, Cole Smithey, Sam Wilson, December 1984 (collection Cole Smithey)Detail: Rockin’ Dogs Cole Smithey, Sam Wilson, Jane Bunting, December 1984 (collection Cole Smithey)Detail: Rockin’ Dogs Cole Smithey, Jane Bunting, Sam Wilson, December 1984 (collection Cole Smithey)Detail: Rockin’ Dogs Jane Bunting, Cole Smithey, Sam Wilson, December 1984 (collection Cole Smithey)Detail: Rockin’ Dogs Jane Bunting, Cole Smithey, Sam Wilson, October 1985? (collection Cole Smithey)

Detail: Rockin’ Dogs Jane Bunting, Cole Smithey, Sam Wilson outdoors, October 1985? (collection Cole Smithey)Detail: Rockin’ Dogs Jane Bunting, Cole Smithey, Sam Wilson, July 1984 (collection Cole Smithey)Detail: Rockin’ Dogs Jane Bunting, Cole Smithey, Sam Wilson, 1985 (collection Cole Smithey)

Read moreThree Dog day afternoons

“I’m with the band.”

Neil Aspinall with the BeatlesTime for belated public acknowledgment of people who aided and abetted those of us on stage.

I’d suggest that performing with a band required a mix of artistic impulse, personal ambition, exhibitionism, a desire for recognition and a need for affirmation. (Your mileage may vary on which traits were dominant.) Most of us had a major assist from folks who didn’t seem to need the limelight so desperately but were there for us: other kids who were known as roadies; managers; girlfriends (and boyfriends); or never had an “official” label but still exerted tremendous influence.

Who carried your amp and fixed your strings? Who drew your flyers? Who second-guessed the sound man and argued with the promoter? Who stood down front on an empty dance floor when everyone else huddled 40 feet back?

Let’s give credit where credit is overdue!

Noise 292: “Mr. Pumpkin”

Detail: Noise 292’s Wendell Kling, David Rives, Matthew Rothenberg (photo by Becky Cohen)Here’s a late but significant contribution to the Noise 292 set list. “Mr. Pumpkin” by guitarist David Rives appeared on a four-song demo we recorded at Mira Costa College, I believe in April 1984.

The driving metalwork percussion is classic Wendell Kling, and I’m under the distinct impression that the drums on this session were generously contributed by the multitalented Sergio of Hair Theatre. Dave sings lead, and I’m on bass.

Listen to it now!

Read moreNoise 292: “Mr. Pumpkin”

Then and now: Rock Palace

(Roving correspondent/photographer Kristen Tobiason surveys the remains of Rock Palace, which enjoyed a brief mid-’80s run of all-ages fun. “The stretch of El Cajon Boulevard sandwiched between I-805 and the I-15 is a desert of boarded-up, abandoned buildings dotted with a few small neighborhood repair shops or used-car lots. The Rock Palace structure has been dead since the ’80s, when completion of I-15 isolated the neighborhood.” Wallflowers frontman Dave Rinck recalls its heyday.)

Detail: Rock Palace, September 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)Someone, somehow, sometime about 1984 or 1985 discovered what must have been an old ballroom above some dingy retail shops on El Cajon Boulevard. [Editor’s note: Contemporary flyers tell us the address was 3465 El Cajon Blvd.] In its day, it must have been a grand olde place, for it had a really high ceiling; wonderful wooden floors; and this really huge, creaky old stage at one end.

Detail: Rock Palace exterior, early ’80s (collection Jeff Benet)And what? Yes, we also noticed that a couple of guys were starting to promote rock-‘n’-roll concerts there in that grand old ballroom. Dubious? Yes, it reeked of money laundering. Manuel Noriega, the Cali Cartel, some Burmese generals, and the Taliban were probably running the place jointly. Of course before you could say “Lose sleep, baby, and stay away from bed,” these dudes had demo tapes of various Che Underground bands in their hot little hands, and the era of the Rock Palace was on!!!

Read moreThen and now: Rock Palace

The Gravedigger V in flyers

Detail: Gravedigger V flyer, August 7, 1984 (artwork by Dave Anderson, collection Tom Goddard)Another Che Underground archivist joins the ranks, as dancing fool-turned-Spain-based sail stitcher Tom Goddard weighs in with a disc of fabulous flyers and photos from the Tell-Tale Hearts, the Morlocks and more.

Detail: Gravedigger V/Meenies flyer, June 16, 1984 (artwork by Dave Anderson, collection Tom Goddard)Today’s installment marks the first flyers in our collection from the Gravedigger V, the short-lived but hugely influential group who tore it up in 1984, recorded one great album and presaged the Morlocks. (I like the flyer dedicated to Tom’s sister Suzie by GDV drummer Dave “Peter Criss” Anderson, who also created both flyers.)

Read moreThe Gravedigger V in flyers

The Tell-Tale Hearts: Go east, young men!

(Ray Brandes’ account of their Midwest tour, undertaken in January of 1985, originally appeared on the liner notes to the Tell-Tale Hearts’ “Live Volume II: Later That Same Night in Springfield” album, released with Volume I in 1997 on Corduroy Records, Australia.)

Tell-Tale Hearts Ray Brandes, Eric Bacher, David Klowden, Mike Stax, Bill Calhoun (collection Ray Brandes)“Mad” Jon McKinney, tour promoter extraordinaire and proprietor of the Primitive A–Go-Go, Springfield, Missouri’s, first- and last-ever sixties garage-punk nightclub, had a dream: to turn Downtown Springfield into Swinging London. He called, and we answered.

Though I had long ago learned the secret of keeping my expectations low in order to always be pleasantly surprised, I must admit that my first real journey beyond the confines of California (which began ominously with the rear-view mirror vision of my sleeping bag flying away from the luggage rack somewhere near Gila Bend, Arizona), tested the limits of the depths to which those expectations could sink. In January of 1985, in the midst of one of the worst winter storms on record, a rented Dodge Caravan containing little more than two guitars, a Vox Continental organ, several harmonicas, a few broken maracas, a tambourine and five young travelers made its way east towards its destination: the mythical Midwestern city of Springfield, Missouri.

Read moreThe Tell-Tale Hearts: Go east, young men!

Here comes the ocean … And the waves

While Che Underground regulars might think of sooty basements, Beatle boots and bottomless cups of coffee as pillars of San Diego history, most of the world makes simpler associations: There’s the zoo; Tijuana; and above all, the beach.

Time to draw the most glaring fact of San Diego geography into our memory exercise. Living in Encinitas, the Pacific Ocean to me was the definitive point of reference when plotting my movements (an absolute I miss in twisty Essex County, New Jersey). It was also the site of some memorable parties, and occasionally I even made it into the water! But it also scared me a little, and I never felt like I understood it the way a lot of other kids did.

Read moreHere comes the ocean … And the waves

Then and now: The Ken Cinema

(Roving correspondent/ photographer Kristen Tobiason revisits and documents the scenes of our youth. Today, the Ken Cinema keeps it real!)

Detail: Ken Cinema marquee, August 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)The Ken is the last of its kind. Most neighborhood theaters couldn’t cut the mustard as costs to run a neighborhood movie house skyrocketed in the early ’90s with the encroachment of digital projection and a hostile takeover by corporate multiplex theaters.

“The Ken opened in 1912,” the Cinema Treasures Web site tells us. “The theater was remodeled in 1947 by S. Charles Lee in Art Moderne style, and was restored in 1975 after being taken over by the Landmark chain as a showcase for foreign features.”

Detail: Ken Cinema ticket booth, August 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)The first time I saw a film at the Ken (4061 Adams Ave.) was in 1981. In those years, the format was free-form and eclectic, serving foreign-language enthusiasts and cult-film buffs alike. The feature changed frequently, every day or so, from “8 1/2” to “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” to “Rear Window.” The Ken gave me my cinematic education and formed my tastes and preferences in film. Often it was like a big party, rowdy and interactive — I remember the row of scooters parked out front for “Quadrophenia.”

Read moreThen and now: The Ken Cinema

The Che Underground