Confidential, Sunday, October 26, 1997

Here’s a first: It was Friday night, and I was heading downtown to do my usual rounds. I get to the subway, exchange a few words with Pete, the token booth clerk, and lo and behold, he gives me a complementary entry. Is this a great country or what?

Being $1.50 richer and finding myself on a subway car that was actually moving, I thought I was in for a night of sheer bliss. But when I made it to Don Hill’s to see Pansy Division, the doorman, Raymond, told me that I had missed the show by a solid week. Oops.

I took it in stride (what else am I gonna do, throw myself in front of a train?). Hung out and chatted with Ray. He’s a sweetheart. He has a tattoo of a heart in a Celtic frame on his right arm. Very impressive. I told him about my girlfriend’s tulip tattoo that opens up like “two lips” when she spreads her legs. He was duly impressed, as most folks are when they hear about this work of art.

The club was beginning to fill up when Don Hill, the man himself, stopped by and informed me that he was coming down with a cold. I suggested that he try my girlfriend Crissy’s special elixer: You put a shot of Nyquil in a microwave oven for a few seconds and then down it really fast (think of it as saki)... that’ll cure you.

Later in the night, I met Charlie, the lead singer of the L.A.-based band Rumble Kulture. Influences include the Babies, Small Faces and the Stones. Their album will be out soon, with guest appearances from Billy Idol and Brian Setzer.

Five minutes into our conversation, Charlie asked if I would marry him. Sure, I answered, why not. (Let’s just say I was experiencing a bout of temporary insanity.) Fortunately, city court is closed on weekends which put a quick end to our whirlwind romance.

After I broke off the marriage, I ran into the Bogmen’s sound man who mentioned that he enjoys Southern Comfort and large imports. I asked him if the “imports” come from Columbia or some other South American province. He was mum on the subject but did take the opportunity to plug the alternative rock band he manages, Numb. (They played that night by the way and delivered a very astute set of rock & roll.)

Sure enough, Charlie the wife-seeker was soon rounding the corner so I hid behind Sean, the guitarist of Miss Guy and the Toilet Boys. Sean’s about 6’3” and yay wide, so he provided excellent cover. Sean, by the way, hosts Wednesday nights at Meow Mix (269 East Houston Street). He calls them “Trailer Park” parties -- I’m not sure why.

Turned out to be quite the busy night, hiding from Charlie and all. Along the way I had a nice chat with Hollywood photographer Trevor Oshana who has done portraits of artists such as Joan Jett and models such as Niki Taylor. Also ran into my friend Steve who’s been interred on jury duty. He complained about not being served free coffee, which I think is written in the constitution somewhere.

Joey Arias was appearing that night. She went on stage as legendary Goth-man Klaus Nomi. Joey was fabulous, glamorous, and in tip-top voice. The band finished and D.J. Miss Guy started cranking out some killer tunes.While I was dancing to the sounds of AC/DC and some other good ol’ R&R, I noticed Charlie by the D.J. booth working on some blonde. Call the divorce lawyers! I want half of everything!

By the way, I recently had a chat with bassist Rick Lord, of Blowtop. Rick sent me a tape which sounded pretty good, chockfull of energy, with some excellent vocals. Catch ‘em at the Continental on December 5th and don’t hesitate to buy me a drink if you see me there. Have a good one, see you in a few weeks.

Confidential, Wednesday, October 8, 1997

Received a call a couple of weeks ago from Ray, bassist of Crazy Raymond and the Watchdogs. They’ve been headlining in the Boston and New York City clubs for the past six years. Influences include Stones, Beatles, Hendrix, plus a few influences from the medicine cabinet.

The Watchdogs will be showcasing at Fatboy here in New York City (14th St. and 9th Ave.) at 11:00 p.m. on Nov. 7. Raymond mentioned that he played guitar for Aerosmith (yes, Aerosmith) back in the early ’70s. He eventually left the lineup and went on to manage the band for ten years until Aerosmith temporarily split up in the early 1980s. (He currently remains on friendly terms with Aerosmith, the sequel.)

Got off the phone and headed out to the pretty city. On my way, I ran into a six foot blow-up witch when picking up a few life-support items at the store (beer, cigs, gum, etc.). I seriously considered purchasing the doll, but at the rate I abuse myself with smoke and alcohol, I’d probably only be able to inflate one leg at best.

Hit my usual haunts, the world-famous Continental Divide, et al. At the Continental, the band Shine was on-stage when I made my grand entry. They’re Maryland-based and have been together for one-and-a-half years. Influences include Black Sabbath, Grand Funk and some other ’70s bands. Wino, the lead guitarist and vocalist -- who has tattooed sleeves -- is formerly of the band Obsessed.

A friend of a friend of a friend of the band, who calls himself St. Vitas, mentioned that back in Wino’s yesteryears, Wino had been signed by a record label and then dropped because of a convenience store theft of a TV dinner. No one understands starving artists. Wino plays a 1960s Les Paul Junior guitar and claims that his Les Paul Special is stuck in a pawn shop in California. Oh well, shit happens. In any event, Shine is a heavy rock trio with a great sound (read: loud and heavy) that was truly refreshing to my ear.

After being tortured by a yuppie fellow describing a drunken experience (they really shouldn’t let these guys out of the office), I headed off to Coney Island High where I ran into Jay of the Goth-rock band Vampire Love Dolls. Jay and I engaged in a heavy conversation about how he received a coffin-shaped locket with real coffin dirt in it from an old girlfriend. Quite romantic, isn’t it? Vampire Love Dolls soon will be showcasing at the Continental. Keep an eye out.

Said hello to Jayne County who just returned from vacationing in California. She said she had a blast -- and I believe it! My friend Chrissy -- a very cool biker chick -- came down for the weekend. Over a few cocktails, she mentioned that her roommate was complaining about her using too much jelly on her peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Being the wise sage I am, I suggested that they each buy their own separate jars of jelly or maybe find separate living quarters. To which Chrissy replied, “But, I only use two slices of bread.” I think I’ll stay out of this one.

Dino, the lead vocalist and guitarist of Clowns for Progress, a pop-rock band, mentioned that they soon will be playing with D Generation at Coney Island High. D Gen’s frontman, Jesse Malin is great -- just ask him! (Meanwhile, Mike, D Gen’s drummer, flipped me a picture of himself with Iggy Pop... Show off!)

Speaking of pop bands, I noticed the Knockout Drops are headlining at Irving Plaza, which is pretty impressive since it’s quite a large venue. These guys play a breed of rock, spiced with sardonic lyrics, that’s been likened to Matthew Sweet and Echo and the Bunnymen. Another band to watch out for...

Well the night grew long, as they always seem to. Wound up attempting to converse with some girl with a heavy accent who kept calling me Ziti. Oh well, I suppose I’ve been called worse.

I leave you with these parting words: If someone signs an autograph on your body part and you really want it to last, spray it with hair spray. It will keep for some time (if spray is applied in a generous dosage). Then again, if you really like the person who autographed you, there’s nothing like a tattoo for permanence. Ciao.

Confidential, Friday, September 19, 1997

Been spending some time at the Continental these days and I'm sure that I'm a better person for it. Their no re-entry policy leaves you staring at the black cement walls for hours on end, and if you can handle that, you're ready to take on the world.

On this particular evening, I went to see Todd Youth's new band, the Homewreckers. Unfortunately, I arrived at the world-famous Continental Divide just in time to miss the Independents. (They're a great band, managed by Joey Ramone, currently on tour of the U.S.)

By the way, the Independents' lead guitarist, Willy B said he's starring in a horror film that takes place in a beauty salon. The name of the movie escapes me right now because I was loaded on Poland Spring water at the time, and am now lucky to even remember my name. I do recall that the film is about a hairdresser who kills people in bands (instead of letting them do it themselves with hard drugs and liquor).

Was working on a few shots and a few beers (and, of course, some Poland Spring water) when Joey Zero from the cable-TV show Time Takes a Cigarette... walked up. Joey sprayed me with a few minor spit bombs but that's okay because he's a really sweet guy and his show is very cool. Check it out sometime on Channel 17 at 1:30 a.m. every Saturday night to see some great videos and interviews featuring local artists of every ilk.

Bumped into Howie Pyro from D Generation. He's cool but the real question is: Which does he prefer: French Fries from McDonald's or Burger King? Never did find out. However, I know that Todd is a McDonald's man because this was the first question I posed to him as he walked off the stage.

Erica, lead singer of Yellow Scab, said hello and goodbye and some other stuff in-between as the Homewreckers took the stage. The band, which consists of members from various other outfits, such as the Waldos, remind me of the Vibrators or the Saints. Joe Rizzo, from the Jayne County band, handles percussion for the group which explains the steady-as-she-goes sound of the band.

Todd Youth did a mighty job of delivering vocals for the Homewreckers. Asked guitarist Dakto how long the group's been together. He said a month, which would have been pretty impressive except for the fact that he probably was lying. The band ended their set with MC5 classic, "Kick out the Jams," one of the best songs about jelly sandwiches ever to come out of Motor City.

Headed to Coney Island High with a couple of friends to wrap up the evening. It appears it was computer geek night there (PCs were strewn all over the joint), but for some odd reason NY Rock was no where in sight (imagine that).

Saw Howie Pyro again, happily munching on a hot dog, and Stephen, formerly of the False Prophets, who was busy reconstructing the Coney Island concession stand. While waiting outside for my car service, I was offered a thousand bucks by some strange Spanish fellow to walk him to the bank (that's a new one). Responded by talking in tongues and letting just a few spit bombs of my own accidentally find their way to his general vicinity. (It beats just saying no.)

Anyway, I gotta walk to the bank right now myself so I can pull out my last $20 and head downtown to see what's cooking: McDonald's, Burger King or just some jelly sandwiches. See you in October or thereabouts. Ciao.