Old Audio Nostalgia

It may sound quaint or even downright nutty to reminisce about the days of cassette tapes, but I loved that era of recording my own albums (off records and other tapes) and mix tapes and even music straight off the radio. I no longer listen to my tapes (and believe me, I still have dozens and dozens of those oldies, both store-bought and home-recorded) nor is my tape deck hooked up to my audio system. But I still struggle with the need to free up space in my home and the nostalgic and emotional attachment to my old stuff. Ditching my tapes can at one moment sound like the best idea in the world, then the next I'm fearful of letting go of pieces of my past. 

Even though I cut my teeth on music through vinyl records, I explored and bought a lot more music once I'd moved on to tapes. I assembled a very comprehensive collection this way, filling out the catalogues of bands like Beatles, Rush, Iron Maiden, Cheap Trick, and Max Webster. 

I know deep down that the music on these tapes can be found elsewhere, either on CDs (even the ones in my collection), as online downloads, or in streaming format on YouTube and the countless internet "radio" sites. So in one way or another, I could easily access this music and never miss the tapes. But just looking at those little, pudgy plastic cases with the glossy cover art, I feel as though it would be like putting down an old lovable dog - who isn't sick but just doesn't do much anymore. It would be criminal.

I hauled out and dusted off all this stuff for

the photo shoot

A funny thing though is that I recently read somewhere that tapes are making a little bit of a comeback. Apparently some small-time bands are again marketing themselves with tapes, embracing the methods of the "old days". The cost is not prohibitive and the retro medium has some appeal to artists who are looking for exposure and to sign with a recording label. So they're zipping off singles and EPs or whatever on cassettes, and dropping them off to any music stores that'll peddle them, and getting them into the hands of the industry execs, fingers crossed for a big break. 

The down side of that strategy is that very few of us even have a tape player in our home anymore. Do the record execs even have one in their offices? Does Joe Public? Do you? I have a few, all still functional I think, but I no longer use them. Like that big ass component for audio system use. And a tape/radio combo boombox that I only use to check weather and news in the mornings while eating breakfast before leaving for work. Oh, and my ancient Sony Walkman, which is buried in the back of a drawer somewhere. 

I've debated about converting some of my old tapes to MP3 format, to keep on my computer, a USB stick, and maybe even burn to CD. I don't think there's much, if any, music there worth all the trouble to convert (maybe a few Rush concert bootlegs), but there are some non-music tapes that I've considered. Like years of Rush "album release" interviews that I recorded off the radio... good for a super-fan, but that's just not me anymore. Will I even care to listen to those ever again? Probably not.

One of my last surviving mix tapes...

from sometime in the 90's

Even as I write this, I feel like I'm closer than ever to just throwing all of it into a garbage bag and heaving it into the dumpster. Then there's no going back. If I go that route, I might first pick out a handful of favourite tapes to tuck away into a small box... for old time's sake. Hey, I did that with my old 8-track tapes, too, though they are definitely more of a curiosity and a collectible than a cassette. If I had to choose just a few tapes for a "time capsule", I'd likely hang onto some Beatles rarities (like Something New and Rarities), some comedy (Monty Python, Bill Cosby), the Clockwork Orange movie soundtrack, and Lee Aaron's debut album.

I even wonder about all of the CDs clogging up too many shelves in my living room. Why couldn't those things have built-in Wi-Fi.... so I can just turn on my stereo amp and select an album that reads back to a CD stored in my closet. But even CDs are going the way of the dinosaur, or at least that's what news in the music industry is telling us. Sales are way, way down (not my fault, because I do buy CDs periodically), thanks to the internet (iTunes, YouTube, Amazon, and so on) and the digital format. Plus most of the world, and not just young people, isn't even buying albums anymore.... the average listener today would rather download just one or two songs from an artist's new release. With that kind of thinking, it won't be long before artists won't even want to go to the expense of recording full albums anymore. Just pop out a few songs now and then, they go viral online, sell like hotcakes through iTunes, then money goes into their bank accounts. Yay.

What a dreary world that would be. I think that only certain musical genres would jump on that narrow-minded bandwagon though. There are, thankfully, artists of some genres who understand the importance of the full album release. There are rock and metal bands, and jazz and classical musicians (to name a few obvious examples) who require the longer form to properly express their ideas. Concept music (like in progressive rock and metal), live jazz concert recordings, and classical symphonies all demand the forty-to-sixty (or more) minute length album. And fans of that music expect a full-length release. Something big enough to chew on for a while instead of the quick pop tune that is over before you know it.. So I predict that the "experts" are wrong. Sure, the pop and other Top 40 stuff, which is mostly disposable, can and will eschew the album for the single, but the album - a set of songs - will carry on as an MP3, a CD, a vinyl record, or even a cassette tape. 

For my part, I will pop a few tapes into my little time capsule. Future generations might marvel at that junk. 

The Force Is Drowsy

The latest and greatest news about the next Star Wars feature film is swirling around the globe, bringing fans to feverish fits. Both good and bad fits. Some of us, myself included, are excited about the look of the teaser trailer that has been released. Still, the brief but thrilling peek at Episode VII contains elements that displease some fans. Pop over to YouTube and judge for yourself.

Like what is up with that silly bouncy ball droid? Hey, I happen to like him.... I guess that's a "him", since the Star Wars universe has so far only introduced us to droids with male personalities. Anyway, we'll just have to wait and see if BB-8 (as it is called) is a guy or a gal droid. However odd or silly or even technologically impossible (according to our science) BB-8 may be, I like the idea. Cute and agile and quick. This could be the new R2-D2 of the franchise. But do keep R2 around somewhere, sweeping the gangplank of the Falcon or something. 

I want to show an image of BB-8, but I will desist just in case the Star Wars overlords of copyright are cracking down on unauthorized use of their stuff. Instead, here's our favourite old droid R2, performing duty as a PEZ dispenser (still in package - take note, collectors):

The Millennium Falcon seems to have been revamped for the new "episode", sleeker overall (or is that my imagination?) and the round radar dish of old replaced by a smaller rectangle-shaped dish. But the Falcon is generally intact and instills the same thrill when you see it roaring by, T.I.E. Fighters in hot pursuit. So I wonder if ol' Han will still be piloting the ship, or if he's handed it off (well, sold it off, since the man is all about cold, hard cash - am I right?) to some younger pilot. 

My nifty Millennium Falcon bottle opener, which

opens a Kessel Ale in less than 12 parsecs

The ridiculous reactions to the design of the lightsaber used by the dark-cloaked fellow (a Sith?) Kylo Ren baffle me. Why over-think this? I mean, even the notion of a fixed-length laser is an impossibility by our science (last time I looked), so why quibble over this newly-designed saber. This is fantasy, not hard science. Again, an image would be perfect to illustrate what I'm talking about, but instead, you can legally pop over to starwars.com to see it. The lightsaber in question has two shorter beams popping out from the top of the hilt, near the main "blade", sort of like the guard on the hilt of Earth swords, like this:

I like the look of the scenes that may or may not be set on the desert planet of Tatooine. The "stormtrooper", named Finn, we see in the trailer seems to be in distress. I like to think that he's in disguise - not really a stormtrooper at all - and is in deep trouble. And he must be one of the main characters.

Rey is the young woman who hops on her odd-looking landspeeder "bike" and tears off toward Tatooine style dwellings. I suspect that she, too, is key to this whole story. A daughter of one of the original trilogy's characters wouldn't be a stretch. We shall see. 

The slick new stormtrooper armour is pretty cool, too. The helmet is familiar and yet is slightly updated, probably for more aesthetic than functional reasons. But who knows, maybe these things have better cooling and comms systems than the oldies (remember TK-421 in A New Hope?). The glimpse of Finn's trooper armour reveals a sleeker design on the backplate: the clunky box-shaped gizmo of old is gone, replaced simply by a small, single gray disc.... a photo-cell, perhaps? I don't know the technology of this stuff. 

All in all, this trailer for The Force Awakens evokes a lot of the feel and look of Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope. Less slick and more gritty, more character and less (obvious) CGI. Let's hope there's a return to form here. Fingers crossed.

That 9th hole is a doozy

God Save Queen

Skinny, long-haired freaks rule the world

It was sometime in the mid- to late-70's that a friend prodded me to buy a record - a 45 rpm single, that was - by Queen. I hesitated but made the purchase under pressure. And boy, am I glad I did. The disc had You're My Best Friend on side A, and the B-side featured the song '39. Both tracks became favourites even before I acquired the now classic album of their origin, A Night at the Opera. 

Both songs are among the lighter fare on that Opera album, yet they are the warmest, most approachable music among a set of highly progressive, daring, and blistering pieces. All of which comprise one of the greatest rock albums ever conceived. You're My Best Friend is like a welcoming embrace, its thoughtful lyrics and mid-tempo rock approach (brought to perfection in Brian May's best guitar solo ever, in my opinion) key to the song's commercial and critical success. '39, on the other hand, is even lighter in its acoustic, folky style, yet its rousing pace gives the tune a lively kick. 

That was my first exposure to the grand spectacle called Queen. The British band's musical genius and flamboyant stage presence set down a standard for other rockers to emulate. Freddie Mercury's startling vocal abilities were only the tip of the iceberg. Brian May's six-string prowess and sound was unmistakable (and impressively expressive)... in just a couple of his plucked notes, it is possible to identify him as the guitarist. Roger Taylor provided a powerful backbeat with his loud and energetic drumming technique, while John Deacon anchored the band with his solid, melodic bass. 

In the 70's and early 80's, the only Queen albums I bothered to buy were A Night at the Opera, and A Day at the Races (both named after 1930's Marx Brothers movies). The first recording is, of course, untouchable. Fave tracks are still Death on Two Legs and I'm In Love with My Car. A Day at the Races, on the other hand, was a bit of a disappointment. Opening track Tie Your Mother Down fooled me into thinking I was in for a great listening experience, but nothing else on there really stuck. That album was left neglected in my 8-track tape collection until the day I ditched all (well, nearly all) of those clunky old things in favour of cassettes, and later CDs.

In late primary school and then in early high school, I heard We Will Rock You and We Are the Champions everywhere I went. Ad nauseam. The former bored me with its endless banging-clapping and chanting, despite a rousing guitar solo at the end. Strange song configuration there. The bombastic We Are the Champions seemed to me, even back then, to have been written with something entirely different in mind... like sports events. And that's exactly where we hear this song all the time nowadays. Yeah, it's a fine tune, but I just couldn't get into it the same way everyone else did. 

Queen's heavy, prog leanings gave way to a more pop, radio-friendly mode as they entered the 80's. I've always been more a fan of their 70's music, but there are songs of the following decade that I can appreciate, like Crazy Little Thing Called Love. A huge departure from their former rock god status, but a fun diversion.

It wasn't until 1990 that I bought another Queen studio album - Innuendo. A very welcome return to form with a selection of great heavy rock songs tempered by some of Mercury's trademark gushing. I admit I wasn't a super fan of Queen; I simply couldn't latch onto a band who was so inconsistent in both sound and quality of songwriting. And believe me, I had a tough time coming to terms with that. I wanted to like them more. I guess their willingness to dabble in odd new sounds left me cold at times.

Anyway, it was during the 90's that I picked up the 17-track Greatest Hits CD (with the red cover). That contained all the hits of the era I liked best. I also took a chance on Queen II (1974), supposedly a prog-rock gem, but I found it rough going. I heard something akin to early Rush in the fantasy lyrical themes and folk/metal experimentation. But for whatever reason, it just didn't take. I had waited too long. I suspect that if I had heard this back in the 70's or maybe even the 80's, I might have been more receptive to this early Queen music. But by the late 90's, my tastes were changing and expanding rapidly. This Queen II stuff felt really dated to me.

Still, Queen is right up there on the pantheon of rock'n'roll immortals, having carved out their place in music history. 

A sixpence British coin, Brian May's

guitar pick of choice... a factor in his

distinctive sound, no doubt

The Great White North

My 1981 Bob & Doug McKenzie 

Great White North comedy album,

in pristine condition.... cheers!

Back in the late 70's, I found myself a cool little homegrown TV show called SCTV, aka Second City Television. Pretty much every comic actor off that show went on to very big things in Hollywood. Like John Candy, Rick Moranis, Harold Ramis, Dave Thomas, Andrea Martin, Catherine O'Hara, Joe Flaherty and Eugene Levy. Even Martin Short. And a few others during its 1976 to '84 run.

The sketch comedy show was an offshoot of the Toronto Second City troupe.... well, you might already know that the Second City comedy clubs are sprinkled across North America, and provide a creative forum for young aspiring comics. The Toronto club had a wealth of talent at the time, and these good folks took their show onto broadcast TV. And what a pop culture phenom they spawned!

Not only has the show itself become an institution (a Canadian one, at that) but the myriad of crazy characters, the inventions of the cast members, have carried on as legendary fixtures of the program, some still popping up here and there in these modern times. 

The most famous characters, of course, would be Bob and Doug McKenzie, the lovable hosers from the Great White North (that's Canada, eh). Their low-key antics were largely improvised as they bantered about beer, backbacon, and other Canadianisms. Rick Moranis and Dave Thomas played the toque and plaid-wearing dopes with the stubby bottles.

Ed Grimley, the geeky character played by Martin Short found new life beyond SCTV, as he appeared on SNL on occasion. John Candy gave life to vain variety show star Johnny LaRue, a role conceived with such nuance that one forgets this guy isn't real. And Flaherty's Count Floyd found an unusual forum for fame beyond the show... rock band Rush used some film footage of the corny Dracula-style character to open one of their songs (The Weapon) in their 80's concerts. 

A fun little recollection of the SCTV legacy

as written by troupe member Dave Thomas

SCTV played out like an early version of 30 Rock.... sort of. The fictitious TV station was run by the tyrannical owner and president Guy Caballero (Joe Flaherty), who went about in a wheelchair, even though he was a physically fit man. But mentally insane, I must say. The weaselly, heavily sweating Moe Green (Harold Ramis) managed the station for a time, then was succeeded by Edith Prickley, hilariously portrayed by Andrea Martin; decked out in leopard-skin outfits, Prickley was a flamboyant and crass addition. 

Oh, and news anchors Floyd Robertson (Flaherty again) and Earl Camembert (Eugene Levy) were always funny in their own style of cringe humour, usually where Floyd mocks and humiliates Earl on the air. Never a dull moment. 

Some of these actors put their impressive celebrity impressions to work as they mimicked stars like Bob Hope (Thomas) and Woody Allen (Rick Moranis). Watching an episode of SCTV was like seeing an entire programming day in the life of a TV station. We got news, sitcoms, dramas, talk shows, kids shows, commercials, game shows, you name it. All were done as parodies, though the brilliant comedy could lean in any given direction... from silly to dark humour and anywhere in between on the laugh scale. 

I watched SCTV in all of its incarnations, from its early half hour format to its sadly bloated late night slot, which ultimately led to its demise. Though I haven't seen the show in decades, I still have an appreciation for the imaginative genius behind it. The collaborative forces were key to its success and longevity. Sure, the individual actors honed their chops during the course of the program, but they were a troupe first and foremost, an ensemble cast. And it didn't take long to see great biting comedy that could only be briefly matched by the SNL gang of the 70's and part of the 80's. 

My personal favourite segment from SCTV was The Great White North. I still own my near mint condition vinyl record by Bob and Doug, with a guest appearance by Rush's Geddy Lee on the hit song "Take Off!". I no longer own a turntable to play this LP, but I do have a CD version.... for Christmas listening, since there's a Yuletide theme on the album. Oh yeah, and though the Bob and Doug logo is nearly worn off, my trusty bottle-opener is still in fine working order. Yup, I was a fan - of both Great White North - and beer. 

Well used since '81, my Bob & Doug McKenzie

bottle opener is still in active service

Brain Shake

Very light reading, Why AC/DC Matters skims across

the band's career, with some odd and funny anecdotes

Australian-based rockers AC/DC have been in the news a lot lately, thanks in part to the head-scratching behaviour of their drummer Phil Rudd. Rudd, who was with the band in their early days, was dismissed in 1983 (his personal issues led to band conflict), but then returned in '94. He's been with AC/DC ever since, though his current status is on shaky ground. The percussionist has recently been charged with death threats and possession of narcotics. Jeez, a rock star behaving badly?

Rudd hasn't been fulfilling his duties as a band member either, missing first a photo shoot then a video shoot, and on top of that hasn't been very reliable about showing up for rehearsals. What's up with that? You'd think if you were in one of the world's most famous bands, you'd want to hang onto that job, eh?

And then there is the sad news that AC/DC's rhythm guitarist Malcolm Young suffered a stroke and was then diagnosed with  dementia. Malcolm, along with brother and lead guitarist Angus, were founders of the band way back in 1973. It must be hard for Angus to not only see a beloved and longtime bandmate leave, but also to see his own brother going through hellish health issues. Dementia is a terrible condition that causes drastic psychological changes, like paranoia, altered personality, and hallucinations, among other symptoms. I don't see how anyone could stand on stage and perform a concert with all of that going on in their head. 

AC/DC was one of my favourite bands when I was a teenager in the late 70's and early 80's. I never had the ear-shattering pleasure of seeing them perform live, but I kept on top of their album releases for many years. I think the last AC/DC album I ever got fresh off the store shelf was 1983's Flick of the Switch (a gift from my brother, actually). It was after that release that I felt the guys were repeating themselves far too much. There are only so many ways you can rearrange three chords and play a blues scale within the confines of the AC/DC formula. Hey, it worked great for ten years, but nothing they did after that ever came close to the quality of their 70's albums, nor the chart-busting Back in Black and even For Those About to Rock of the early 80's. But I commend the boys for their work ethic and ability to hammer out such a long career and sustain a loyal following that spans generations. 

Malcolm in the early days... one of rock's great

masters of the catchy riff and solid rhythm

Doors of Perception

It was on this day - Saturday November 15th - in 1966 that The Doors signed their deal with Electra Records to record seven albums. They managed six albums in their career, and that wasn't all that many for a band with such a huge and lasting effect on rock music. The Doors sure packed a big influence into their music. Their style and lyrics were unique enough in that day and age that the band stood out from the pack. 

First and foremost, The Doors had no bass player, an oddity in the music business! Instead, keyboardist Ray Manzarek provided bass lines on his Fender Rhodes piano bass while creating melodies on his Vox or Gibson electric organs. 

The band wasn't too crazy about their agreement to release Break On Through as their first single.... with lyric changes to get radio play. Their lyrics about getting high were considered a bit too much for the general public back then. Yeah.... just listen to rap music nowadays, or even twenty years ago, to see how far things have come. Anyway, Break On Through has an interesting history. Even though it is now one of the The Doors' most popular songs, it originally didn't even crack the Top 100 in the States. 

I first heard The Doors on rock radio in the late 70's. The tunes played most back then were Break On Through, Light My Fire, Hello I Love You, Roadhouse Blues, L.A. Woman, and Riders on the Storm. There was one night when that station played the entire L.A. Woman album, and that was when I fell in love with the weird and hypnotic song The Wasp (Texas Radio and the Big Beat). I remember chowing down on that near-trance track with the headphones on, loving Morrison's spoken word lyrics. 

All I knew of The Doors for decades came to me via radio and my Best of the Doors tape... and later the CD. I also read the David Dalton biography of Morrison and The Doors. But boy, was I missing out on a lot of fine music. Finally, within the past decade, I snapped up their six studio albums and was able to fill in the gaps and understand the true impact of this quartet out of Los Angeles. Morrison's lyrics, like "his brain is squirming like a toad", either annoyed or impressed listeners. The man's words were often interesting enough, certainly visual and jarring, poetic, and sometimes controversial. But it was the beauty of the instrumentation - the cohesive elements of the band - that made a big impression on me. 

Robby Krieger's guitar style wasn't your typical rock'n'roll. Not very often, anyway. Stuff like The Changeling and Roadhouse Blues were pretty straightforward rock, but then we had influences from other genres creeping into songs like The Crystal Ship, The End, Spanish Caravan, and Indian Summer. Classical, jazz, non-Western music, and so on. Krieger's ability on the instrument  is obvious on every song, whether it was a "hit" or not.

The Doors might not get the same attention as The Stones or The Beatles when folks talk about the 60's, but they set standards for live performance, especially the image of the singer/frontman. It can't be denied that Jim Morrison made a huge mark on the rock world in that respect. He, along with Robert Plant of Led Zeppelin, established the template for rock star singers.... all swagger and sex appeal, and Morrison took the bad boy image to extremes unmatched at the time. Band-mate Manzarek himself said Morrison "embodied hippie counterculture rebellion". Dangerous and volatile, Jim appeared cool as a cucumber.... until he had roused his audience into a frenzy with his antics. Great rock'n'roll!

Missed It By That Much

I feel like a heel using such

a cheap phone plan....

Back before Blazing Saddles and Young Frankenstein, Mel Brooks co-created (with Buck Henry) a little old spy satire for 60's TV called Get Smart. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Get Smart was among my favourite childhood shows, right up there with The Monkees and Batman. I remember having battles with my parents over finishing watching Get Smart whenever dinnertime overlapped with the show. They usually relented and let me see it to the end. 

The series ran from 1965-1970, very respectable for a TV program at that time. Don Adams was a blast as Agent 86, Maxwell Smart, but he also had a top-notch cast supporting him. Barbara Feldon as Agent 99 was Max's love interest, and Edward Platt as Chief suffered Max's missteps with hilarity. 

Brooks was asked to come up with a show that could cash in on the two big spy franchises of the 60's, James Bond and Inspector Clouseau (Pink Panther). Need I say more? The resulting mash-up of espionage and silly and physical comedy worked like a charm. I loved the Pink Panther and knew a little of the Bond stuff at that time. Agent 86 always managed to half-way bungle his missions but by the end of each episode, he either accidentally came through with flying colours, or good ol' 99 showed up to lend a hand. 

The bizarro plots usually centred around Smart acting as field operative for the American counter-intelligence agency called CONTROL, often taking on the villainous agents of KAOS. A whole wack-load of well-known (maybe not at the time, but certainly later on) actors played KAOS agents, including Leonard Nimoy, Tom Bosley, John Byner, Ted Knight, and even Vincent Price.

The crazy gadgets that appeared on Get Smart were inspired by those in the James Bond films, though for this TV comedy, they were taken to ridiculous extremes.... like Max's shoe phone, the Cone of Silence (which rarely worked properly, and always resulted in Chief blowing his top), and the assortment of nutty booby-traps in Smart's apartment (which often backfired on Max himself). 

Richard Donner, a long-respected movie director, took the chair now and then during Get Smart production. Donner is best known for the films The Omen, Superman (1978), The Goonies, the Lethal Weapon movies, and Scrooged. I'd sure like to revisit the Get Smart episodes to see how Donner fared during his early days in TV. Someday.

The occasional character Hymie the Robot was a hoot.... always taking commands literally, unexpectedly expressing emotions, and frequently stating that he was "programmed for neatness". 

Agent 13 sometimes popped up in an episode, too, though he was always stationed in very unfortunate spots, like washing machines, trash cans, and fire hydrants. Talk about a disgruntled employee!

The spin-off movies never quite recaptured the magic of the 60's TV series, even though we all desperately wanted them to succeed. I must admit, though, that I enjoyed the 2008 "re-boot" starring Steve Carell. Carell was, and still is, a favourite comic actor of mine, and I felt like he captured the essence of Adams' Maxwell Smart, while bringing his own deadpan goofiness to the role. About as near a success as one can expect. But why no sequels?

Would you believe.....

Holy Molars, Batman!

This past week, I had some dental issues, but thankfully no major work was required and the problem seemed to fix itself. The dentist couldn't find the actual cause of the pain I felt when I chomped into a sandwich, but he thought maybe the tooth was bruised (I'd never heard of such a thing before, but I'll defer to the expert, who also said this can heal on its own) or that there was a hidden crack. I'll have to wait and see.

Which brings me to molars, and then to Batman, more specifically the 1960's TV series. Was there ever a cooler show for kids back then? Cartoons aside (and this almost qualified as a cartoon with the colourful "Ka-pows!" that splashed across the TV screen whenever somebody landed a solid punch), there were few programs that had such broad appeal. Sure, there were the grown-up jokes which I certainly didn't understand when I was a youngster, but down on my level, Batman appealed to my sense of the silly (like parking the Batmobile and then putting change in the meter). And the totally pure-of-heart values of Adam West's Batman didn't come off as cheesy to the young me... instead, as a positive role model, he became an example of what I might aspire to as a person. Maybe not scaling skyscrapers and punching evil clowns, but at least becoming someone with a good set of morals and values. I talk a bit more about this in another post about heroes

But the deadpan delivery of such ridiculous lines was often lost on me, just a dopey kid who wanted to see the Dynamic Duo punch it up with the Joker's henchmen. The TV show was pure camp, a send-up of the much more serious characters who first appeared in the DC Comics. As a lad, I enjoyed both the Batman and Robin books and the "lone Batman" ones. DC's Detective Comics introduced Batman to the world in the May 1939 issue, and then Robin was brought on board in April 1940 - all long before my time. I wonder who could have predicted back then that these comic book crime-fighters would become such enduring characters in pop culture. 

The Dark Knight Returns briefly revived my interest in the published Batman back in the mid-80's. I was fresh out of school and in my first real job when this four-issue series hit the stands. Artist Frank Miller offered us a gritty, stylized version of Batman, Robin, and even Superman in this story arc. The books are about retired and aging Bruce Wayne dusting off his cowl and cape for another round with the bad guys. And of course, the books inspired the 2008 movie The Dark Knight, which kicked off a dark and serious reboot of the film franchise. I must admit I'm not a big fan, mainly because I just can't get over the light-hearted fun of Adam West's 60's Batman. The TV show was my childhood.... I wore a Batman T-shirt, and I play-acted the character the way Adam West did. Do kids today play-act the whispering Christian Bale's Dark Knight, a Batman of few words? He's tough, yes, but fun?

Oh, and who can forget the Batusi go-go dance of the 60's? Get down with your bad self, Caped Crusader....

Clap For The Wolfman

This devilish brute was a treat to watch chewing

up the scenery in The Werewolf of London

'Tis that time of the year, this very week in fact, when all things supernatural fascinate even the meekest among us. Halloween is nearly upon us, and most folks like to, at the very least, curl up with a scary movie or two on that very special evening. I know I do.

Among all the ghosts, demons, zombies, mutated beasties, vampires, man-made monsters, serial-killers, and undead mummies, my favourite mythological creature stands at the top of the bunch - the fun and furry werewolf.

There are countless werewolf re-imaginings in film, but I can certainly narrow them down to some of my favourites plus the most iconic growlers ever:

My fascination with the lycanthrope (shape-shifter) goes way back to my childhood when I first saw Abbott and Costello battle (no, run away from, really) The Wolf Man. Portrayed by the immortal horror actor Lon Chaney Jr, this werewolf also starred in the classic The Wolf Man and its "spin-off" monster-mashes Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man, House of Frankenstein, and House of Dracula. These were all products of the Silver Age of horror movies, an era of spooky monsters in glorious black and white. 

The Werewolf of London kicked things off nicely in 1935 with a unique twist: a rare plant that only blooms during a full moon is used as a temporary antidote for English botanist Wilfred Glendon's werewolfism. Great fun even today, this movie features the earliest depiction of a "wolf man" in mainstream cinema. 

The Wolf Man of 1941 is perhaps my favourite of all horror movies. I never tire of watching poor Lon Jr sweating it out as the full moon activates the gypsy curse that was placed upon him. And then the young chap sprouts fur and fangs and roams the moors looking for dinner. Things get a bit bloody, but hey, he just can't help himself. That famous man-to-wolfman transformation scene is still a beaut to watch, perhaps not as slick as modern special effects would give us, but those early creative techniques heavily influenced shape-shifters in every horror film made since. 

A lesser-known but very effective chiller from the 40's was The Unknown Monster, which I recently re-enjoyed... mainly for its moody setting and fine acting, since the creature did not reveal itself until the very end. Still fine.

Oliver Reed helped revitalize the horror genre in the 60's with his contribution in Curse of the Werewolf, a colourful tale by Hammer Studios. This, along with Hammer's re-booted Dracula, Frankenstein and Mummy franchises, chiseled these monsters into the public consciousness once again. 

1981 offered a double-whammy of modern classics with The Howling and An American Werewolf in London. The Howling set some groundbreaking special effects standards, impressive in their own right, though American Werewolf stepped it up even further, especially with the metamorphosis scenes. Both movies provided dark comedy to counter the very violent and bloody visuals, and the combination was intoxicating. These two are among my fave horrors of all time. The Howling spawned a series of sequels, of which I've only seen a few. They vary in quality, but for the most part, they retain a twisted sense of humour that somehow allows us to swallow these often ludicrous stories. Like the were-marsupials in Howling III - wacky and rather bad, but so bad it's good, if you know what I mean.

Also in '81, we got Wolfen, which I found kind of disappointing. This was actually a crime thriller about real special wolves as the antagonists - no shape-shifting involved. Who knows, maybe I'd appreciate this more now that I'm all grown up.

The Company of Wolves from '84 was one of the most beautiful-looking horror movies ever made, drenched in atmosphere and a fairy-tale style that transports the viewer into a more innocent realm, which does become rather dark and sexualized at times. 

Stephen King's story Silver Bullet was successfully adapted to the silver screen in the 80's. I quite like it, even though it gets a bit corny, but hey, that decade had such a great vibe in its genre movies. 

I think the most recent "good" werewolf movie I saw was Ginger Snaps, which had its merits as an exploration of a more modern mythology blended with a teenage girl's experiences with lycanthropy. I plan to revisit this very shortly, in fact. Here's hoping I like it as much as I did the first time. 

Now it's time to put on Warren Zevon's howling good song Werewolves of London:

"I saw a werewolf drinkin' a pina colada at Trader Vic's
And his hair was perfect..."

Just one of the gruesome stages of shape-shifting

in The Howling

Listen to the Band

My old videotape of a handful of Monkees TV show 

episodes... though I don't watch VHS anymore, this is

still a cool-looking little collectible. And a fine-looking

postcard pic of the band. 

Hey, hey, I've got some Monkees stuff here... I was recently digging through my closet, shelves and drawers (not the kind you wear) and found some fun old Monkees stuff I picked up years ago. First, there is the old VHS tape that I bought from Columbia House Record, CD and Video Club back in the 90's. There are a few episodes of the Monkees TV show from the 60's on there, which I enjoyed revisiting after a couple of decades of missing that classic musical comedy program. Silly and creative, the show pre-dated the music videos that ruled the tele-universe in the 80's and beyond. Sure, the Beatles' A Hard Day's Night movie was the first to really venture into this experimental medium, but the Monkees took it to the next level.

The U.S. sit-com was irreverent and imaginative with it's blend of stories, sketch comedy, and musical performances. The show ran from 1966-68, just two TV seasons, but won two Emmy Awards and paved the way to the MTV generation with its innovative film techniques. And it played in heavy syndication for many years later.

The Monkees program was inspired by A Hard Day's Night, and though only three of the four young lads chosen after auditions had even a little previous musical experience, the quartet, after initially providing only vocals to instrumentation by studio musicians, honed their skills so that they truly became a performing band in their own right. The TV show was run with a tight rein over the boys' input, and their early record releases allowed little more from them. But once the Monkees felt confident writing and playing their own music, they put their foot down about recording only themselves onto their albums. 

Apparently many sets and props from the Three Stooges short films were used in the Monkees episodes. Coolest fact ever!

Micky Dolenz, the drummer and vocalist, was always my favourite Monkee. His wacky sense of humour always got me laughing, while the rest of the gang sort of mugged their way along as best they could. And Mickey's singing style, usually light-hearted and fun, really punched up terrific songs like Goin' Down, I'm a Believer, Steppin' Stone, and She. Vocalist and tambourine man Davy Jones was marketed as the "dreamboat" for the girls in the audience, while Peter Tork on bass and keyboards was the naive one, and guitarist Michael Nesmith (wearing the knit cap) was the smart and serious guy - and seemed to be the leader of the band.

A mint condition Monkees jigsaw puzzle

that I've hung onto for many years. Never 

even opened, let alone assembled.

The Monkees were one of my favourite bands (second to only The Beatles) for many years, and they still remain among my all-time faves. Great, timeless pop music, much of it written by top songwriters of the era, like Boyce and Hart, Neil Diamond, Neil Sedaka, Gerry Goffin, and Carole King. 

And The Monkees TV show was something else altogether... a visually and overall stylistically unique creation that had more ambition and experimentation than anything else in the glut of formulaic comedy programming of the 60's. Watching it today, my only real gripe is the over-use of laugh track, which I find really grating at the best of times. Just let me watch and enjoy, and I'll decide when to laugh, instead of listening to that canned roar after nearly every line of dialogue (even the unfunny ones). 

I don't think I was mentally prepared when I saw the Monkees' movie Head some years ago. It seemed to be a very disjointed mish-mash of stuff that I couldn't really get into, but I think it's high time I gave the film another chance. I might appreciate it more nowadays. Might. 

Bats in the Belfry

A Flock of Seagulls,anyone?

The new film about the real life Prince of Darkness, Dracula Untold, has got me thinking about the history of this character in cinema. Scores of movies depicting the fictional count have littered cinemas ever since the dawn of moving pictures. 

Without going into great detail about every movie ever made, I will at least mention some of the most notable - and my favourite - Dracula films. It was in 1922 that Germany brought us Nosferatu, an unauthorized adaptation of Bram Stoker's original novel. This silent classic still stands up nearly a century later. The lighting, set design, and camera-work set up an eerie and unsettling atmosphere that can't be denied, even by today's standards. 

Then in 1931 Hungarian actor Bela Lugosi established himself as the most recognizable Dracula of all time. His take on the king of vampires was suave and sophisticated, but a bit stagey, understandable given his theatrical background prior to the leap to the big screen. That overly dramatic style gave the film a charm all its own, though this could also be considered a drawback when compared with later incarnations of Drac. Lugosi played the role several times for Universal Studios, with other actors (John Carradine, Lon Chaney Jr) occasionally stepping in for him.

Christopher Lee rendered the character in a more menacing and violent manner when he donned the cape for the first of many Hammer Studios Dracula films - in 1958. Lee even played the part without any dialogue (very effectively, I should add) in Dracula, Prince of Darkness. This series was entertaining for the most part, with the odd stumble, especially into the 70's, when Lee reluctantly returned to the role.

Jack Palance did a wonderful job as the undead antagonist in the 1974 adaptation, certainly one of my favourites, if somewhat obscure. Check it out if you can.... this borrows the best of the Hammer elements while retaining much of the original written story. Palance relishes his chance at Drac as he wallows in the hissing, growling, and gore. A moody and creepy film.

Five years later Mr. Frank Langella put his own spin on the fanged character, portraying him as more of a romantic anti-hero. It's been a long time since I've seen this flick, but I recall enjoying it for the most part. Just not enough to add it to my movie library.

Good old Francis Ford Coppola (of Apocalypse Now fame) directed Gary Oldman as the ancient count for the 1992 adaptation. In my opinion, this stands among the best Dracula films ever made. A wicked blend of the traditional cinematic vampire with a highly stylized look and approach really lifts this to a higher level. Though performances are not strong from all parties (Oldman excepted, for he was outstanding), everything else about this weirdly supernatural picture is imaginatively and beautifully realized.

I haven't seen any Dracula movies since Coppola's version, and I don't think I'm missing much. It is so rare that these flicks really work that I simply won't waste time watching what often looks like a bad movie. Unless I hear plenty of critical praise... then I am more likely to take a chance on it. My standards are high.

Now THAT's what I'm talkin' 'bout....

Try the Wine

Too many guitars? Never!

It's been an awful long time, but there was a period when I was all about Canadian rock band April Wine. They were pretty big in the seventies and into the eighties, carrying on sort of for a long while more but not really producing much in the way of interesting new material. So be it... that happens. Few rock stars taste the fame forever. Even the best of them can experience a limited career life span, Maintaining even just a modicum of success after their heyday can be a continuous struggle, unless a band is resigned to simply putting on greatest hits shows for the rest of their lives.

Wine began as a musical force way back in '69, and cut their first record in '71, but it wasn't until the mid-to-late 70's that I became aware of them. I had some growing up to do first. 

I first heard April Wine on the radio, probably Oowatanite or Roller, a couple of their biggest hits. Very riffy and thick with rock guitar class and grit in equal parts, plus the vocal harmonies set them apart from other heavies back then. Other songs began to drift into my sphere, such as I Like to Rock, Weeping Widow, and 21st Century Schizoid Man (a cover of the King Crimson classic), changing my world for the better. These guys really knew how to write and play great, catchy, often heavy songs. They were also responsible for some of the most famous ballads of that era, too. One, from the seventies, was Tonight is a Wonderful Time to Fall in Love. Think you've never heard it? Find it on YouTube and you'll realize you have heard it - many times.

And two massive hit ballads appeared on the Wine's 1981 smash The Nature of the Beast (not to be confused with Iron Maiden's The Number of the Beast). Some sort of fanged hairy creature wailing on guitar adorns the cover of the album. April Wine, with this disc, helped set the stage along with Rush and Triumph for a run of amazing Canadian hard rock in the 80's. 

Back to those ballads now.... Sign of the Gypsy Queen, riddled with memorable guitar and vocal hooks, received a massive amount of attention, placing very respectably on both Canadian and U.S. song charts - hitting #11 on Billboard's Top Tracks. No small feat. Just Between You and Me was similarly melodic and dreamily-paced for high school dances. 

The Beast went double platinum in sales in Canada and even hit gold status in the States. I played the hell out of my copy of the album, and was pleased when CDs finally hit the market so I could upgrade from my trashed cassette tape.

It seemed that almost every song on The Nature of the Beast was in the rotation on radio stations. Easily half the album was good enough for that kind of airplay, and the rest of the set was no slouch either. Consistently good, with plenty of anthem choruses and big fun guitar hooks that you still hear on classic rock stations. My favourite track was (and still is) Wanna Rock, with Future Tense and Crash and Burn close behind. 

Wine's follow-up of '82 (the pressure must have been on to ride that wave of success from the previous year's Beast album), Power Play, boasted a couple of big hits which I quite liked: Anything You Want, You Got It... and Enough is Enough. Both sort of lightweight rockers that must have satisfied the band's and the recording company's wallets, and fun enough to keep the fans happy. The rest was rather generic and forgettable, so I ditched the album after a while, and there ended my fascination with April Wine. I prefer to remember them for their better work in the early years. Not really aging like fine wine, eh?

A Pall in the Fall of '69

After the summer of '69, there was the fall of '69 and.... it was on this day (October 12th) of that year that a Detroit radio station DJ received a phone call informing him that if he were to play the Beatles' song Strawberry Fields Forever backwards, he would hear John Lennon saying "I buried Paul". And that, dear readers, was what started the worldwide rumour that Paul McCartney was dead. That he had, in fact, died in 1966 and was replaced by a look-alike.

Apparently there were other "signs" that McCartney was no long with us, some of them appearing on Beatles album covers prior to that eerie phone call. The Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band album art shows the four Beatles assembled front and centre before a crowd of celebrities and other famous faces. There is a hand above Paul's head, purportedly signifying the blessing of a body before internment. And "Beatles" is spelled out in red flowers upon what appears to be a grave... which is also adorned with a left-handed bass guitar (just like Paul's) composed of yellow flowers. All very weird. 

From the Yellow Submarine album art,

John holding his hand up as the Devil's Horns,

a gesture in many cultures to ward off bad luck

and even evil spirits.... right above Paul's head. 

The Magical Mystery Tour album cover shows Paul dressed as a black (symbolic of death) walrus, an ill omen for Viking hunters (if the hunters saw a dead walrus before the start of their hunt, they would turn back). There are other details but I won't list them all, seeing as there are many other web sources for such trivia. But as a point of interest, in the Magical Mystery Tour movie, in the scene where the Beatles are all decked out in white tuxedos, Paul is the only one wearing a black carnation in his lapel - while the others wore red carnations. There's that deathly black again.

Then there was 1969's famous Abbey Road album cover, showing Paul out of step with the other Beatles on the street crosswalk, drawing attention to him... plus there's the fact he is barefoot, which is how the dead are buried in several countries. Some say this photo depicts a funeral procession, with John dressed in white - representing the religious person, Ringo in black as the undertaker, then Paul in a baggy suit and barefoot - the deceased, and finally George, dressed in old denim jeans, as the gravedigger. Oh, and the licence plate on the white car reads "28IF", meaning Paul would have been 28 if he had not died. And again, there are several more details in the image but that discussion could go on forever. 

There are even clues in the music, intentional or not, but I side with the sceptics on this one, believing Paul has been with us all along, and that these "signs" are coincidental or perhaps a joke or hoax at best... or worst. 

And whether Paul was still with us or not, there was that other, later rumour that the Canadian band Klaatu was really the re-formed Beatles. I have practically zero knowledge of Klaatu, other than their song Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft, which I actually first heard done by The Carpenters (very well, I might add). There are elements of the song that remind me of some Beatles music... drumming that recalls the sound and style of Ringo's later Beatle work, and the overall vibe, vocals and arrangement could very well have been an even more experimental piece from the Magical Mystery Tour era. 

The Sun King? Nope, Klaatu's first album....

You Look Like Boris Karloff...

Oh wait, that's Tom Petty.... but he 

did do the song Zombie Zoo.

It's that time of year again, when we in North America (and maybe in some other parts of the world) celebrate Halloween. For me, the dressing up and trick-or-treating stuff is long over with, but I do dedicate much of October to watching scary movies. Well, some are scary, while others are simply atmospheric, weird, creepy, or even just goofy. 

It's been tough deciding on horror films to watch this year. Even though I have a pretty big collection of frightful flicks on home video, I still have trouble narrowing down my choices for the best viewings possible at this special time of the season. Since I'm more a fan of the oldies, I lean toward cinematic works earlier than the 90's. But I've watched so many of my beloved classic oldies so many times.... and that makes it difficult to re-watch some of them, even when the leaves are turning, the air is crisp, and the moon is full. The pressure is on.

So far this month, I've tried out a mix of old and new-ish. For example, I watched the 1957 Hammer Studios' gem Curse of Frankenstein, the moody 1940's werewolf tale The Undying Monster, the 2009 gross-shock fest Drag Me to Hell, and the quiet and unsettling 60's nugget Children of the Damned. Each is good in its own way, but to varying degrees. I'd say the Universal Studios' Golden and Silver Age of Horror will always outshine just about anything else... Undying Monster was far more entertaining than Curse of Frankenstein. And even though Drag Me to Hell was a lot of fun, Children of the Damned exhibited such restraint and tension that it would clearly win in a duel. 

Something that has dominated the horror genre in recent years, in both TV and movies, is the zombie phenomenon. I don't get it. I never did. I suppose Night of the Living Dead was the first zombie flick I ever saw, and that might have been in the early 80's. And it didn't do much for me. Sure, I acknowledge the movie's significance to the horror genre, but it's just not my sort of picture. "They're coming to get you, Barbara". Same goes for Carnival of Souls, a super-low-budget story about the undead trying to get back on the roller coaster. Meh.

But I guess if I were to mention a few zombie movies that I do like, at least a bit, I would say White Zombie (1932) which inspired Mr. Rob Zombie in the naming of his heavy metal band. White Zombie is considered the very first feature length zombie film. It's heavy on atmosphere but maybe lacks in the acting and story departments. I admire the look and feel of the movie, if nothing else. 

White Zombie was later compared to the stylish series of films by 40's horror master Val Lewton. Lewton's contribution to the genre came about with I Walked With a Zombie, a notable and eerie take on the walking dead. It's been a while since I've watched this one, but I may revisit it this month. Lewton's films were a wonder to look at, with his deft touch with camera angles, use of light and shadow, and the lack of background music.... the silence can be a killer.

28 Days Later (2002) was pretty good for a modern horror, a neat variation on the traditional formula. Its sequel 28 Weeks Later wasn't bad either. Both presented us with a new sort of "zombie"... not the kind raised from the grave through Haitian rites. 

Oh, and Shaun of the Dead (2004) was a silly and fun romp, a horror comedy that actually worked for me. Nothing like a bloody mess while laughing your head off. Leave it to Simon Pegg to ace that one.