tempted

Squeeze performed their classic hit, "Tempted" on Ellen on Wednesday. Talk about a piece of (my) history. I saw this band so many times when I was an art student in New York. At the Nassau Coliseum with R.E.M. and The English Beat as their opening acts (I actually missed R.E. M. because the line for the bathroom was so long). At The Ritz multiple times. I always loved Glenn Tilbrook's gorgeous tenor voice and writing partner's Chris Difford's wacky sense of style — at one show he wore a custom made suit made with a bright blue fabric that was covered with gigantic red roses.

They may be a little older and grayer (and who isn't), but it was great to see and hear them again. They're still Cool for Cats.

Related articles

• Review: Squeeze, "Live at The Fillmore" (popdose.com)

turntable talk

They were my band in the 80s. They were the first band I got into on my own. Not on the suggestion of a friend, or by listening to my parents' music, or by hearing them on the radio. The Clash. My dad had a weekly newspaper in South Jersey and he suggested I write a music column for it. He even suggested the title, Turntable Talk. So I guess I've been reviewing pop culture since I was a tween ...

Anyway, once I had written a bunch of columns I felt like I had run out of subject matter. I had already written about all my favorite singers and bands. "Why don't you write the record companies and see if you can review some of their new albums?" said the old man "But I'm just a kid!" I argued. "They don't know that." So I drafted a letter, got the record company addresses from the backs of my albums, Dad proofed it and we sent it out to CBS, A&M, Epic, etc.

A few weeks later, the free albums started pouring in. So many of the albums were by obscure bands and one-hit wonders—Huang Chung, who changed their name to Wang Chung, The Dickies, Gino Vannelli (which came with a full-size poster of Gino which my mom brought to the newspaper and put up on the wall behind the typesetter), the Ethel Merman Disco Album (I kid you not.) And I listened to all of them, all the way through, no matter how difficult, or how far it drove the family out of the house. We only had one stereo in the house. I took my "job" of reviewing very seriously, even the questionable loot.

Multiple-photo collage, by Elizabeth Periale

But I also got some really great stuff. The Police, Joe Jackson, Elvis Costello and The Clash. I'll never forget the first time I put on The Clash one weekend morning. I was the only one home at the time. Maybe instinctively I knew to wait until I was alone, that I was about to have an experience. The sound coming out of the stereo was loud and raw and scary and exciting. My neighbor, Mrs. Dembski, who was walking her dog, or watering her lawn, or doing something that caused her to come out onto her front lawn across the street stopped whatever it was she was doing and stood still, staring at our house. Inside, I bounced around, afraid yet thrilled, and knew that suddenly this column and album-reviewing wasn't just something I was doing for my Dad to be part of the family business. I was really into this.

Greeting folks at the door to my installation.

Years later, when I went away to art school at Parsons I took my Clash and Police records (I left Gino Vanelli at home with Mom) and eventually stopped in at CBS to introduce myself to the contact who had been sending me all their records. She was probably only about five years older than me, but seemed a little surprised at my youth—but only for a moment before she loaded me down with an armful of new records. I didn't end up going to any of the other labels I had been corresponding with while I was still in high school, as I just didn't have time with all my classes and assignments. But I continued to write and send dad the occasional column until the paper folded in my junior year.

During that year I really came into my own at Parsons and was experimenting with photography and film and performance, as well as taking the drawing and painting classes in the curriculum. I had talked my way out of taking any more sculpture classes (usually required) when my sculpture teacher and I both agreed that I just didn't have a 3D-eye (hey, that story was convincing at the time), and I added printmaking instead. I started using a lot of the publicity materials that the record companies had sent me as the subject matter and even raw material for my artwork.

My ten red panels in a darkened room.

I was listening to a lot of different music, but I listened mostly to the Clash while I created a large-scale installation for my drawing class. I had draped a room with plastic sheeting, painted black, the paint chipping off of it until it became a tunnel which led viewers to a set of ten painted wooden panels with words pres-typed onto them. I wanted people to feel as if they were walking into my painting. I knew I would need music, the music I was listening to while I made the panels, to fill the room. I asked my friend Steven Parrino, if he would make a tape for me, using the Clash's music. He didn't necessarily think the band was cool—he was always onto whatever he thought was the nextest, bestest thing—but he agreed.

I did a little research and found out the Clash had an "office"in New York called Clash, Inc., and called and made an appointment. When I visited, it was a big empty loft somewhere in midtown with a young woman with a British accent who seemed to be the lone staff person. I told her my story and asked if I could include some of the band's music as background for my art installation. She said yes and asked me to send her an invite. "Maybe we'll come and see it." I was beyond thrilled and handed over my albums to Steven and told him to go nuts.

Steven Parrino, artist and mixtape-maker extraordinaire, expounding on the meaning of art,
or something. I miss you, Steven.

Of course Steven distorted the songs and did so much scratching, etc. that my familiar favorites were hardly recognizable. But it did sound cool and was perfect for the enveloping, claustrophobic nature of the piece. The girl from Clash, Inc. showed up and was probably as befuddled at first as I had been when she heard Steven's wall-of-Clash-sound, but she congratulated me on the installation and told me that "The Boys" would have loved it.

I gave all my old albums many years ago to my cousin, the only person I know who still has a working turntable. I've got quite a few of my favorite Clash songs loaded onto my iPhone—the kid sings along happily with me to Should I Stay or Should I Go. But recently I've been feeling the lack of Sandinista. There's something about putting on such a massive album as that one and letting it envelop you ... sort of like my installation. I haven't done that in a long time.

Related articles

• Joe Strummer Biopic On The Way (beatcrave.com)
• Clash's London Calling goes from vinyl to video (cbc.ca)
• Tsy Stle Hall of Fame Paul Simonon | How to Clash Art, Music and Style (theselvedgeyard.wordpress.com)

forever eighties

Between the radio station that plays eighties music on the weekends (and the weekend starts on Friday) and some fun nostalgic photo tagging going on with friends on facebook (as opposed to facebook friends), I have had a variety of songs and images from that era in my head lately ... so why shouldn't you, too?


Situation ...


In the 80s even the cats were cool ...


Sowing the seeds of love ...


... and life was an endless party.

it ain't what you do...

...it's the way that you do it.

Today was one of those days where how I thought it would be ended up being something completely different: with getting a new car radio that was supposed to be compatible with the iPhone, that appeared to not actually be compatible, that ended up being OK after some artful complaining...

On the way home my daughter wanted to hear this song on repeat. Yes, I'm passing on my music sins to the next generation. I love Terry Hall, and the video is populated by 80s hair zombies. What more can you ask for?

i miss danceteria

I was grooving to some songs on the iPhone as I settled into the office with no one around this morning, when this thought popped into my head: I miss Danceteria.

Apparently I'm not alone, as they have their own blog (the club's been closed since 1986.)

I thought back to how fun a place it was to go while I was in art school in NYC. It was a night club, and probably as sleazy as any other, but it never really felt that way. It just felt fun. It was a place where I could go and dance, of course, with different things happening on each of its four floors, so there wasn't much opportunity for boredom, unless that was your goal. It was also somewhere in the big, bad city where I felt that I could go out on my own, either meeting friends there, or occasionally, just by myself.

I remember one occasion where I had been going stir crazy in my Brooklyn apartment and called a bunch of friends, but they were all settled in for the night and didn't want to venture out. But I could go to Danceteria. I set off for the subway, got to 21st Street, got waved through the door (somehow the bouncers could tell the locals from the bridge and tunnel crowd) and made my way in. I think I danced, had a drink or two, and ended up on the top floor where they were showing music videos. Not much different from what I could have done at home, but I was out in New York, and that was important on that night.

Mostly I remember going there with friends and dancing, to music no one would dare call disco at the time, like Michael Jackson and Madonna before she became sinewy, and Fine Young Cannibals.


I also remember seeing a few famous people. Billy Idol, not budging from the bar, the Clash's Mick Jones, hanging out with his friends who would later become the band Big Audio Dynamite. I loved The Clash, but I remember not really knowing what to say to Jones, because my favorite was Joe Strummer.

Probably the only occasion I have to go dancing these days is at somebody's wedding. With the 80s revival in full swing, the DJ is bound to play something from that era, and if I close my eyes, maybe for a moment, I'll be back there on 21st, between 5th and 6th, on the second floor-until my adorable dance partner, my daughter, squeezes my hand and brings me back to the present.

while you're making your inauguration plans...

January 20 is a national holiday. Really. And it will follow another national holiday, Martin Luther King Day, on January 19. How cool is that? So what should the inauguration theme be for President Obama? (Gee, that has a nice ring to it.) Bill Clinton used Fleetwood Mac for his campaign, and then later had them play at his inaugural ball. Here are some serious and not-so-serious suggestions:

Stevie Wonder - I love Higher Ground and Superstition, but maybe For Once in My Life and You Are the Sunshine of My Lifewould be appropriate? How about Signed Sealed Delivered? It would just be great to see him perform.



Prince's Raspberry Beret would be cool. OK, not a chance, but I love that song. What about Sting's Brand New Day, 'cause it is, you know?

Obama was in his 20s in the 80s. I think most folks really pick their "era" in their 20s and form most of their tastes in that decade of their life. There could be some interesting choices. Here is a small sample of possible tunes (from '81 to '84) that might work:

Celebration - Kool and The Gang
Don't Stop Believin' - Journey
9 to 5 - Dolly Parton
Super Freak - Rick James
I'm So Excited - Pointer Sisters
Rock This Town - Stray Cats
The Message - Grandmaster Flash
Wanna Be Starting Something - Michael Jackson
Rock The Casbah - The Clash
Bang The Drum All Day - Todd Rundgren
New Year's Day - U2
Sharp Dressed Man - ZZ Top
True - Spandau Ballet
She Blinded Me With Science - Thomas Dolby
Girls Just Wanna Have Fun - Cyndi Lauper
Lucky Star - Madonna

Fun, fun, fun...

everbody have fun tonight

click on this card if you dare