Probably my favorite song from the early days of hip-hop, “White Lines” by Grandmaster Melle Mel was originally written as an ironic commentary on cocaine-fueled party lifestyles, but later added the “Don’t do it!” line throughout so radio programmers wouldn’t can it for being pro-drug. Though, Melle Mel can’t help but add an additional “Don’t” before “Don’t do it” to add further irony. And, to push the irony further, Melle Mel advises you shouldn’t do it because so many people are doing cocaine, he finds it difficult to buy now.
The accompanying video was directed by then-NYU film student Spike Lee. It’s not particularly remarkable, but it’s kind of cool to see an early work by a now stellar director. Laurence Fishburne plays the drug dealer in the video. Be warned, the picture quality really stinks.
The famous bassline was borrowed by post-punk band Liquid Liquid from their song Cavern, also included here.
From one of the Germs’ first live performances (if not, their first live performance ever) at LA’s Whiskey-a-Go-Go in 1977, comes a cover of the Archies’ “Sugar Sugar” that needs to be heard to be believed. It’s the aural equivalent of a slow-motion car accident. Please know that they did get a LOT better as a band, but this is still worth hearing. This may be the worst thing you’ll ever hear, but I guarantee you won’t forget it. Lead singer Darby Crash inserts lots of bad language into this one, so not safe for work.
Trivia note: Belinda Carlisle was briefly a member of the Germs before they made their live debut.
My compadre from the Old Country, Loose Handlebars, just posted an awesome cover of the Rolling Stones’ “Stupid Girl” sung by Ellen Foley at the link above (“Judge a Song By Its Cover”). For those who don’t know Ms. Foley, she was the female vocalist of Meat Loaf’s “Paradise by the Dashboard Light,” sang backup for several artists (from Ian Hunter to the Clash), was a regular on the quintessential 1980s TV show “Night Court,” had a supporting role in 1987’s “Fatal Attraction,” and was the subject of the Clash’s 1982 classic “Should I Stay or Should I Go?” (she was dating the Clash’s Mick Jones at the time).
And while you’re at it, check out Mr. Handlebar’s other terrific posts about music, film, and other fine pop cultural artifacts:
“Color of Night” has a very bad reputation. In fact, it won Worst Picture of the Year at the 1994 Razzies (it’s only win … it lost in its other 8 categories). Roger Ebert said at the time: “I was, frankly, stupefied. To call it absurd would be missing the point, since any shred of credibility was obviously the first thing thrown overboard. It’s so lurid in its melodrama and so goofy in its plotting that with just a bit more trouble, it could have been a comedy.”
I agree with everything Ebert said, except for his last assertion. I would counter that “Color of Night” IS a comedy … a gleefully wild, bats–t crazy comedy that does for erotic thrillers what the Ebert-scripted and Russ Meyer-directed “Beyond the Valley of the Dolls” did for Hollywood soap operas.
If you don’t agree, consider the pedigree of its creators. Director Richard Rush made the brilliantly demented “The Stuntman” in 1980, a labor of love that took many years to film and resulted in an Academy Award nomination for Best Director that year. One of the writers was Billy Ray who later wrote and directed the superior “Shattered Glass” and “Breach.” I’m not saying that talented people can’t make a bad movie. But when you create something this completely insane, it can’t be by accident.
I won’t rehash the plot because the less you know the better. Yes, you will probably see the big plot twists coming a mile away. But I would argue that’s part of the fun. To accuse this film of containing gratuitous sex and graphic violence is missing the point. Gratuitous sex and graphic violence IS the point. It pushes its R-rating beyond the breaking point. If you’re a prude or have no sense of humor, stay away. But if you let it, “Color of Night” will take you on a crazy, surreal trip … and leave you with a big idiotic grin.
Forget the Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame. Randy Newman is the equal of any of the greatest American songwriters in our over 200 year history. “Louisiana 1927” is a beautiful and terribly sad song about the flood of 1927, which has taken on even more resonance, post-Katrina.
The lead off track to Reed’s incendiary album from 1989 “New York.” I’ll let the lyrics speak for themselves:
Caught between the twisted stars
the plotted lines the faulty map
that brought Columbus to New York
Betwixt between the East and West
he calls on her wearing a leather vest
the earth squeals and shudders to a halt
A diamond crucifix in his ear
is used to help ward off the fear
that he has left his soul in someone’s rented car
Inside his pants he hides a mop
to clean the mess that he has dropped
into the life of lithesome Juliette Bell
And Romeo wanted Juliette
and Juliette wanted Romeo
And Romeo wanted Juliette
and Juliette wanted Romeo
Romeo Rodriguez squares
his shoulders and curses Jesus
runs a comb through his black pony-tail
He’s thinking of his lonely room
the sink that by his bed gives off a stink
then smells her perfume in his eyes
And her voice was like a bell
Outside the street were steaming the crack
dealers were dreaming
of an Uzi someone had just scored
I betcha I could hit that light
with my one good arm behind my back
says little Joey Diaz
Brother give me another tote
those downtown hoods are no damn good
those Italians need a lesson to be taught
This cop who died in Harlem
you think they’d get the warnin’
I was dancing when his brains run out on the street
And Romeo had Juliette
and Juliette had her Romeo
And Romeo had Juliette
and Juliette had her Romeo
I’ll take Manhattan in a garbage bag
with Latin written on it that says
“it’s hard to give a shit these days”
Manhattan’s sinking like a rock
into the filthy Hudson what a shock
they wrote a book about it
they said it was like ancient Rome
The perfume burned his eyes
holding tightly to her thighs
And something flickered for a minute
and then it vanished and was gone
Arguably,”Bamboozled” is Spike Lee’s most underrated film. It didn’t get a lot of critical respect back in 2001, but this is a film that seriously needs another look.
“Bamboozled”‘s lead character is an African-American executive for a television network (played by Damon Wayans) who wants to get out of his contract, but can’t unless he’s fired. To get fired, he decides to come up with the most racist show he can imagine, a new-Millenial minstrel show, with black actors in black face, tap dancing, etc. Unfortunately for Wayans’ character, the network not only loves it, but the public does too. His show becomes the most popular show in the nation and Wayans ignores his ideals, embraces his new fame, and loses his soul.
Lee patterned “Bamboozled” on two stellar and abrasive media satires, Elia Kazan/Budd Schulberg’s 1956 film “A Face in the Crowd” and Sidney Lumet/Paddy Chayefsky’s 1976 film “Network.” While you can definitely see the influence of both films on “Bamboozled,” “Bamboozled” throws race into the mix. The result is a very uncomfortable and disturbing look at what we, as Americans, have called “entertainment” for over a century … an entertainment that is based on the debasement of a race of people. “Bamboozled” isn’t perfect and it could have been shorter by about 20 minutes or so, but what’s there is still devastating, especially the montage at the end which is a compilation of some of the most horrific examples of racism in film history.
“Bamboozled” in many ways prefigured the Dave Chappelle controversy of 2005, when Chappelle left a $50 million contract with Viacom because he no longer felt comfortable with the material that he was doing on his very popular cable show for Comedy Central.
What’s also intriguing about “Bamboozled” is that it’s one of the few films that seriously analyzes the art of comedy. Being a comedy junkie, I relish any pop culture artifact that takes comedy seriously and examines, sometimes uncomfortably, what makes people laugh and why.
A very close second behind “Crimes and Misdemeanors” for my all-time favorite Woody Allen film, “Husbands and Wives” is Allen’s abrasively funny, embarrassing, dark, and extremely uncomfortable look at two troubled marriages. Sydney Pollack and Judy Davis are a couple trying to have an amicable divorce until … well … real life takes over. Once they start dating other people, the fur starts to fly. Witnessing this meltdown are their married friends played by Woody Allen and Mia Farrow who start to have their own issues once things unravel for Pollack and Davis.
This film is best remembered as the Allen film that was released around the time Allen and Farrow were going through their own ugly and public breakup. Unfortunately, the controversy over their breakup in real life overshadowed what a great film this is. Allen is at his best when he’s flinging acid at the audience and while it’s ultimately a comedy, I remember being very disturbed by the film when I saw it back in 1992, a feeling I couldn’t shake for days.
“Husbands and Wives” is, arguably, one of the most influential films of the last 20 years. It’s single camera, pseudo-documentary style (which audiences at the time claimed made their stomachs sick) can be seen in some of the most popular and critically-acclaimed TV shows of the last decade (“Modern Family,” “30 Rock,” “Arrested Development,” “Curb Your Enthusiasm,” “The Office,” “Parks and Recreation”).
A triple shot from the infamous Black Randy from the equally infamous and brilliantly titled (and damn near hard to find) album “Pass the Dust, I Think I’m Bowie.” To call Black Randy a character is an understatement. His antics back in the day were easily one of the major highlights of Marc Spitz and Brenden Mullen’s definitive oral history of LA punk “We Got the Neutron Bomb,” which should be a staple in any respectable deviant’s library.
Great late-1970s punk rock from Northern Ireland, but seriously, that singer needs lozenges … STAT! I cringe when I think this was probably done in one take. I love how the chorus goes “Don’t believe them, don’t believe them, don’t be bitten twice” and then during the last chorus, the lyrics shift to “Don’t believe us!” instead of “them.”
Trivia note: the monster guitar riff at the beginning of this song was stolen from Montrose’s “Space Station #5.” Considering that Sammy Hagar was the vocalist for Montrose and the riff from the Clash’s “Safe European Home” was allegedly stolen from Sammy Hagar’s “I’ve Done Everything For You,” it prompts the question, do all punk roads lead to Sammy Hagar?
Dave's Strange World 