Happy Holidays to all and stay tuned for my year-end list of greats, irritants, things that confused me, and general examples of widespread creative bankruptcy (all in my humble opinion).
December 2007
Monthly Archive
Mon 24 Dec 2007
Sat 22 Dec 2007
I was granted permission by both Ross Johnson and Sherman Willmott to reprint Ross’ The Panther Burns: A Confessional. Sherman published an edited version of this some years ago. Look for my upcoming feature on Ross in Harp Magazine. Get ready for an entertaining read.
THE PANTHER BURNS: A CONFESSIONAL
by Ross Johnson
Pitiful Beginnings In the summer of 1978 I played with Alex Chilton in a three piece band called the Yard Dogs. We played on the street in downtown Memphis for spare change. We did one club gig at the dark and tiny Midtown Saloon that summer and then broke up. Shortly thereafter I moved in with a groupie from St. Louis (not my groupie; she slept with major label musicians who did real tours and real records). Alex asked me to play with him in Austin, Texas, that November, but my groupie companion nixed that. She liked to discourage my contact with people like Alex, or any other Memphians for that matter. She left town in January, ‘79, and I promptly headed for the bars which is where, one drunken night, I ran into Alex and one Gustavo Falco/nee Gus Nelson. They told me they were starting a band and needed a drummer. Chilton had recently returned from a year in Manhattan playing CBGB’s and Max’s Kansas City where he’d been somewhat converted to a sloppy punk ethos and was looking for enthusiastic amateurs to play with on his return to Memphis. I knew that this would be my only chance to play with a talent like Chilton (admittedly more than a little down on his luck at the time but still the best thing going in Memphis) and bluffed my way into the band. I auditioned for the band pounding out a beat on a table top along with a Buddy Holly 45 on the jukebox at a local bar. I got the job.
Our first few gigs were done at a cotton loft on Front Street. They were pretty arty affairs for the most part; at that time we didn’t seem to have many commercial aspirations. That changed in a few months when we started playing a dump on Madison Avenue called the Well. The place was run by Frank and Jackie Durand, a friendly middle-aged couple who liked to drink with their customers. Jackie was quite generous in extending bar credit; the Well was the first place to allow me to run a tab. Believe me; I appreciated it at the time. Frank also worked on Mississippi River boats several months a year and Jackie would put him back on the boat after he’d been on a binge for awhile. Frank would indicate his displeasure with a band by standing next to the stage tapping his billy club signaling that it was time to cut volume or quit playing. If that didn’t quiet things, then he or Jackie would pull the power on stage. We saw Frank’s club many, many times at the Well. The Well was the place where we began mutating from a naive punk rock art project into a hack bar band.
Increasing Professionalism.
Even though we had started playing local clubs in hopes of making some door money, we still sounded like a broken vacuum cleaner most of the time. Out of tune guitars, deafening synthesizer, off-key vocals, shrieking trumpet, and lead-footed, out of time drumming (courtesy of yours truly) were the hallmarks of our live sound in ‘79 and ‘80. Luckily, Chilton’s brief flirtation with punk rock performance values made it possible for me to play with him. Also, I fit right in with Tav, who was even less of a musician than I was then. We could make anybody playing with us sound bad; we were inept and offensive–just what Alex was looking for (It’s amazing the effect that Brian Eno’s rhetoric about non-musicians had on people at the time, even in hick backwaters like Memphis. He’s got a lot to answer for, that old bastard.) We were thrown off quite a few stages during that period. Though we initially enjoyed the effect we had on club audiences, somewhere along the way we tried to clean up our sound. Instead of intentionally walking an audience out of a club, now we struggled to keep that audience during our tuneless sets. “Epater le bourgeois” became “entertain the customers.” We transformed ourselves into a bar band who could hold an audience and maybe even get paid at the end of the night. Which led to the next (il)logical step in our “career” recording.
The Recording Thing
We had received some national attention due to Chilton’s cult status; music writers and record labels were dumbfounded as to why he was playing with a group as awful as Panther Burns. I was often curious about this myself, but then Alex has always had his own highly personal reasons for doing what he does. A couple of labels had been vaguely interested in the group until they heard us live. Unable to secure a deal, we decided to put out a record by ourselves. So in May of 1980, the first Panther Burns record was released: a four song, 45 rpm EP on our own Frenzi label. Tav silk-screened the covers himself at his rental house on S. Cox; there were two pressings of 750 each, I recall. We sold them from the stage and by mail order, a few copies eventually making their way to London, which is where Geoff Travis of Rough Trade Records heard us. In September ‘80 the Burns played New York (minus me–I was never too keen on traveling anywhere with the band; more on that later) where Travis offered the band a record deal of sorts. This marked our official entrance into the weird world of independent record labels.Over the years the Burns recorded for labels in England, France, Australia, Spain, Canada, and even for a couple of majors here in the U.S. (briefly, very briefly). I tried to keep up with all the releases on the various labels, but I’m still unsure of the exact number. It’s somewhere close to 20 counting all the limited editions and other gimmicky attempts at marketing our unique musical vision on vinyl, tape, and compact disc. None of those measures ever accomplished the impossible: selling Panther Burns records to the general public. Sales figures were always fuzzy and incomplete (especially when you’re dealing with indie labels and especially with those based in Europe), but the best way to put it is that our recordings didn’t sell too well in any market. Not surprising for a body of work that could only generously be termed unpleasant listening. I always wanted to like our recordings, but each release only seemed to sound worse than the one before (no mean feat). My hope was that one of them would capture some of the dreadful noise of our live performances; instead, we opted to make records that struggled to sound like music. We were a sonic sellout in our pointless attempts to make commercial recordings. A familiar story, but I wish we hadn’t been so eager to adhere to traditional hack formulas while recording. The only unique thing about the group was how truly awful and inept we were. Come to think of it, though, our “commercial” recordings conveyed this special quality more than adequately. Still we kept making records because these labels kept asking us to do them. I’m puzzled by this. If our records sounded like crap and didn’t sell very well (or at all), then why did these labels keep releasing them? It’s a strange world, isn’t it? Can you imagine someone going into a record store and actually paying money for a Panther Burns recording? I understand that this sort of thing happened, just not very often. And of course, the making of these recordings that nobody wanted to hear was quite a joy in and of itself. I always judged our recording sessions by the number of verbal fights and ritual humiliations that occurred. A good session was one where we all still spoke to each other after recording and the inevitable insults had ended. Endless retakes, vocal overdubs (particularly excruciating), predictable tantrums (I certainly did my part; I was always there to pitch a fit over the most trivial points or when I felt slighted), marathon mixing sessions (I’ve got to take my hat off to both Alex and Jim Dickinson who did most of the production/mixing on our body of recorded work; I usually lasted about one song and then I had to leave), and business/contract meetings about records that would never sell more than a handful of copies; all these were part of the Panther Burns recording experience. In retrospect, it’s laughable stuff, but at the time nothing was more important to me than playing on the next Burns record. I conducted myself like a careerist loser who would do anything to play on a record, acting with the moral integrity and judgment of a small dog. All that wasted effort and heartache, and still the records sounded like toilets flushing.
The Money Thing
So if they didn’t sell, they didn’t make any money, right? That would seem to make sense. In regards to money the Panther Burns saga is particularly unclear and confusing. “Somebody must have made some money from the band” was a frequently heard comment. Tav became the convenient scapegoat in this matter, but if you look at his lifestyle during that period, it becomes hard to believe that he made off with a fortune. Tav may have been rather cheap and secretive about money matters, but he never seemed to profit monetarily from the years of recording for obscure foreign labels. No one did, as a friend gently pointed out to me during one of my diatribes against the evil indie label juggernaut. I was ranting and railing about how I had never been paid for all the records I’d played on when he reminded me that it was essentially a non-profit experience for everyone involved with that scene: label owner, distributors, producers, and artists. Those records weren’t intended to make money; instead they expressed a desperate desire to make recordings even when there was no demand for them. No audience was ever presumed or found. Panther Burns albums were the purest form of vanity recording–done because we had to do them, not because anyone else wanted to hear them. We were fortunate in finding labels that didn’t mind throwing money away on records that didn’t sell. We learned that in order to lose money in the music biz you have to spend money and it’s always easier if the money you’re losing is someone else’s. A valuable lesson learned. Maybe we came out ahead after all.
The Touring Thing
If the records didn’t do too well money-wise, at least they made it possible for the group to gain some notoriety nationally and internationally, eventually leading to tours in the U.S., Europe, and Australia. This is where we really surpassed ourselves and set new standards for stupidity among touring rock bands. I didn’t do the long drawn-out ones (I had a fulltime job that didn’t allow me to leave for extended periods, and also I knew better), but I did enough touring to convince myself that I never again want to leave the city limits in the company of another rock band. I can’t be very rational on the subject. I’m simply glad that I never have to climb into another station wagon, rental car, van, or airplane with Tav and the gang.There are numerous horror stories that I could relate; anyone that ever toured with the Panther Burns should have plenty of tales to tell. I’ll share a couple of the more memorable touring episodes that I think capture the essence of the band at top form. Our first European tour in 1987 was almost pleasant because we worked with an English booking agency, had a tour manager who did all the driving, and received a per diem, a hotel room every night, and plenty to eat. It was the closest I ever came to enjoying a tour, but there was a queasy moment at the tour’s beginning that gave band members a chance to display our collective moral cowardice. Work visas had been negotiated in a rather haphazard fashion prior to the tour’s start; one band member flying in from New York was assured that his visa was in order. However, as the van left London to begin the tour, it became apparent that his visa had not been properly taken care of; in fact, the booking agency had never been notified of his inclusion on the tour. Subsequently no work visa was issued for him. We all sat in stony silence while the tour manager acted the heavy and put him out on the sidewalk in front of our hotel. A couple of halfhearted apologies were mumbled; I think we may have offered him a few pound notes as consolation for his flying to London on his own money and finding himself suddenly stranded. We pulled away from the curb while he stood there shaking his head. We opened some dates for the Clash on their U.S. tour in ‘84. This was after they had sacked Mick Jones and after Topper Headon had taken an early retirement option for personal reasons. Joe Strummer and Paul Simeon opted to keep the band going by hiring three nondescript gumbies as replacements. (It’s hard to quit, isn’t it? Especially when protracted careerism becomes both a lifestyle and your only source of income.) So anyway Joe and his new boys seemed a bit dazed and out of touch with their surroundings. It was 1984, but Joe and manager/compeer Kozmo Vinyl seemed to think it was early ‘77 all over again: they were finally going to set the dumb Yanks straight on all things punk. Strummer had that pitiful Mohawk of his at the time, and, in his early 30’s, looked more than anything else like a doofus. They had a huge road crew complete with trailer trucks, walkie-talkies and combat togs. It was quite a sight to see all that money being spent on a band in such a shocking state of decline. Needless to say, the Clash audiences hated us and we hated them. We were soundly booed each night and pelted with coin, cups, ice, and even a few shoes. After the opening date in Nashville, a member of the road crew asked which one of us was Alex Chilton. The reply: the one eating ice off the stage. Ah, the memories I’ll keep and treasure. Like our recordings, I always wanted to enjoy Panther Burns tours, but reality usually cut through any lingering fantasies I had about touring with a band. It usually takes me a while to learn one of life’s little lessons, but I believe I’m pretty clear on this one.
The Drinking Thing
One lesson I’m still learning has to do with alcohol in beverage form; it certainly played a big part in early Panther Burns days. I’d have to characterize myself as the most avid imbiber in the band with Chilton coming in a close second. We were big drinkers offstage and on; I don’t believe I played a Burns gig sober until 1983 (it didn’t help much–we still sounded pretty rough). Tav was not a boozer by any means–although he did enjoy a glass of wine now and then along with the taking of his daily herbal sacrament. I wasn’t too big on herbal remedies at the time, scorning Tav’s preference as hopelessly outdated. However, he didn’t get as hostile and aggressive as I did on my manly liquid diet. I was the typical alcoholic jerk when I drank: verbally abusive, irrationally sensitive, foolishly amorous, and prone to blackouts and car crashes. But the idea of getting up on a stage without a few drinks under my belt (and usually one or two in my hand) was unthinkable. I was a drunk. The Panther Burns was a band of drunks who played drunken music for other drunks. My alcohol intake inevitably led to conflicts with other band members over the wrongs I believed they had done me. There were quite a few fights along the way and I have to say that I was the cause of many of them. I quit drinking in June of 1983, but by then my personal relations with other band members were strained and sour. And they seemed to get worse the longer I stayed sober. I might have stopped drinking for the time being, but I was still eminently capable of creating conflict and discord in the group.
The Fighting Thing
I didn’t need much of an excuse to pick a fight with other band members. Money, drinking, my musical ineptitude, meaningless contract squabbles, women, and my numerous insecurities were all good reasons for me to continue the prolonged hissy fit that was my career with the Burns. In a band full of drama queens I was usually the most hysterical and bellowed the loudest about how I had been cheated and betrayed by the others. Portraying myself as a victim of Tav’s and Alex’s deceit became a fulltime job for me. There are numerous psychiatric terms to describe my behavior in regards to the other members, but I think “emotionally unstable” sums it up pretty well. The wrongs (mostly imagined) done to me were the result of my constant feuding and grudge tending. The Panther Burns never had much to do with friendship. Pride, ego, greed, and stupidity proved to be the enduring elements that characterized most of our dealings with one another. Just like any other third-rate rock band that overstays its welcome, I suppose.
The End–Amen.
Was it really that bad I ask myself? Or is my self-serving, selective memory painting the whole experience as an unrelenting nightmare starring myself as the oft-wronged innocent who just wanted to play his drums with the big boys? It’s easier to look back and see it all in black and white, excluding the good times (and there were quite a few actually). How else do I justify almost fourteen years of playing with the Panther Burns if I don’t paint my memories in stark contrast and view myself as some kind of victim? The truth is I was a moral failure who couldn’t exist outside his ridiculous role as the group’s drummer. I wouldn’t admit to others or to myself that I enjoyed much of my time with the band: that, as unpleasant as it often was, I wanted to keep playing with them at any cost. Now that’s an embarrassing admission; much more humiliating to me than recounting my drunken excesses. However, there are limits to my lingering enthusiasm for playing drums with a bunch of other aging rock daddies who can’t quite seem to give it up even though it’s way past quitting time. It’s been a year and a half since I shared a stage with them and I can’t say I’ve missed the experience much in that time. Of course, Tav continues on his merry way in Europe, flogging a version of the Panther Burns that includes two former members who swore they would never work with him again. (I’ve taken that oath myself on numerous occasions). For the moment I’ve stopped, but recently I received a postcard from Vienna. It was Tav asking me to play with him next times he comes to Memphis. What scares me is that I think I might say yes. World without end.
Caveat Emptor: A Ross Johnson Discography
I attempted something like this for the Sugar Ditch 45 I did in ‘93, but I gave up in disgust. As far as memory and self-loathing will allow, here’s another attempt at a discography of my recorded output. It’s not in strict chronological order and I may not have all the correct label/release info either. I don’t own all the records I’ve played on (nor would I want to) so please forgive any inaccuracies or lapses in memory.
Like Flies on Sherbert Lp Alex Chilton(Peabody Records, 1979) My first and favorite recording date. I played on three songs: “Baron of Love Pt. 2,” “Girl After Girl,” and “Hey Little Child.” All recorded at Ardent Studio on August 16, 1979, I had my grandmother’s favorite and recently departed singer in mind when we cut “Baron…” Alex brought some pot to the session and insisted that I “toke down on some weed” prior to recording. I grudgingly obliged and “Baron of Love Pt. 2” popped out. “Part 1” was a version loosely based on Johnny Guitar Watson’s “Gangster of Love” with Chilton singing. That didn’t work very well so they gave me a vocal mike and I started yelling. People still ask me what the song’s about. Elvis is my usual answer, but looking back, it’s just a story I made up, as close as I ever got to fiction. Chilton thought I was capable of doing some kind of spontaneous rant piece and for some perverse reason made “Baron…” the lead track on the Peabody Records version of the album. Aura Records substituted “Boogie Shoes” for it on the English album version. 1st Panther Burns self-titled EP (Frenzi Records, 1980) I was against it. What press and notoriety we had received was due to our reputation as a noisy, shambolic live act. I thought we should remain just that–a rumor or a bad memory for those unlucky enough to have caught our live act. A prosaically dull record would just confirm our status as late to the party, punk rock wanna-be’s and dispel any interest or curiosity that we’d cultivated by word of mouth. At best, I hoped for a fanzine mention or two, but Tav had other plans. The record was proudly low-fi and shoddy even by indie label standards at the time. It’s a pity we kept going after this first release. “Train Kept a Rollin’” 45, Panther Burns (Rough Trade, 1981) I remember wearing some goofy ass jacket and cap (a la Gene Vincent’s Blue Caps) for the back cover photo. Tav thought it would look “real rockabilly, man,” but it just looked real stupid, man. I’ve never been too much of a rockin’ dude when it comes to clothes. Doug Easley recorded “Train…” live at the then recently opened Antenna Club. I played only a snare drum on it which pissed Tav and Alex off. Remind me to tell you about my “one man, one drum” theory sometime. Behind the Magnolia Curtain LP, Panther Burns (Rough Trade, 1981) I’m not on it cuz I was fired from the band at the time. My first dismissal from the group, I earned it with my actions and attitudes. My aforementioned drinking, feuding (particularly with Alex) and my increasingly inept playing all played a part. Jim Duckworth came in to replace me on drums, but on the album he played guitar and Chilton played drums. I rejoined the band later that summer (a big mistake). “Snake Drive” is one of my favorite Burns cuts–drummers from Tate County, Mississippi, and Tav is nowhere to be heard vocally.Blow Your Top EP, Panther Burns (Animal Records, 1982 or 1983?) I wasn’t on this one either. The band was based in New York at the time. Ex-everybody Jim Sclavunos played drums and produced. The group’s first brief sojourn with a pseudo major label. A couple of UK rockabilly sampler LPs, Rockabilly Psychosis (Ace/Big Beat) and Blood on the Cats(Cherry Red) This was 1984 during the slight flurry of interest in rockin’ things (Stray Cats & all that rot) and there were quite a few albums like these two on the market attempting a quick cash-in on the nonexistent rockabilly boom. Tav had a fit because Geoff Travis of Rough Trade leased a track to Cherry Red without his authorization.Sugar Ditch Revisited EP, Panther Burns (New Rose, 1985) Our debut on Patrick Mathe’s (aka big Frenchy) New Rose label based in Paris (France, not Tennessee). It marked the beginning of our long-term (for us) relationship with New Rose and our continuing efforts to make “commercial” records. A year in the making, “Tina the Go Go Queen” ain’t bad. Panther Burns Now, Panther Burns (Frenzi, 1984) A live cassette-only release on our own label, it’s pretty representative of our cruddy live sound during the mid 1980’s. Released later on vinyl by some Australian label and as a giveaway extra by New Rose with Shake Rag. It features several of Tav’s “original” songs. I like “Hairdresser Underground.”Shake Rag EP, Panther Burns (New Rose, 1986) My least favorite (if there can be such a thing), the group was down to just Tav, producer Jim Dickinson and myself. I thought things would go pretty smoothly without Alex or Rene Coman, but I was sure wrong. There were at least 25 successive takes on “Warrior Sam.” Tav would keep going out of time halfway through. Jim Dickinson never lost his cool; I did, though. He deserves a medal for his patience on this recording. I hate every song and every note on this one. A few Friday nights ago I was watching some crappy late ‘80’s, video-only release movie on USA Network’s “Up All Night” series when I heard a vaguely familiar tune on the soundtrack as flesh-eating zombies battled biker chicks. It was “Cuban Rebel Girl” from Shake Rag. Tav neglected to tell me he’d sold it as soundtrack music. I guess we finally found our level after all–background noise for a cheapo zombie flick. The World We Knew LP, Panther Burns (New Rose, 1987) Chilton produced this one along with some capable engineering from Roland Janes (Jerry Lee’s original guitarist) at Sam Phillips Studio. Some judge this to be our “best work;” in my judgment only “Pass the Hatchet” is essential.Red Devil Panther Burns (New Rose, 1987/1988?) Originally released as a limited edition boxed set of five 45s, this later was released as a full-length album in Europe and Canada. The only time my picture ever appeared on a Burns cover (I’m the one in the suit without a weapon). Just making time here. Midnight in Memphis Lp, Panther Burns (New Rose, 1989) A live recording done on our 10th anniversary as a “band”(we never really were one; it was always just Tav and whoever else he managed to enlist at the time). Most of the original formation and alumni from various later incarnations managed to squeeze onto the warehouse stage where we did the recording. Surprisingly it was fun playing that evening; Ron Easley held the musical proceedings together (personal note: although Ron and I hardly speak these days, I’m still quite fond of his playing). Tav tried to act as producer on this one. Then Alex came in to salvage it; he wisely gave up and passed the baton to the Easley Brothers who finished the job.Return of the Blue Panther LP, Panther Burns (New Rose/Triple X, 1990) A rush job done on the eve of the band’s third European tour. Good point: because the recording was rushed, there was no time for studio playbacks or Tav vocal overdubs. Bad point: it sucked like most of our other records. Life Sentence LP, Panther Burns (New Rose/Triple X, 1991) The recording phase of this one went very smoothly (the instrumental tracks sounded good; no big fights; I didn’t throw tantrums for a change) lulling me into believing that maybe it would sound ok. And then I got a cd copy in the mail–horrible cover, horrible record (I’d forgotten about Tav’s singing; I’d left the sessions before he did his vocal overdubs).This is pretty much where I bailed out of the ongoing Panther Burns saga. The band that wouldn’t die staggers on in Europe with no signs of stopping even in the face of almost zero fan/label interest. And I continue under much the same circumstances in my feeble attempts at a “solo career:”Ross Johnson It Never Happened 7” Sugar Ditch Records The music for “It Never Happened” is “I Forgot to Remember to…” (You know the rest) by Stan Kesler & Charlie Feathers (well, sort of on Charlie’s part), and “Nudist Camp” is “Snake Drive” by R.L. Burnside. I always wanted to record “Snake Drive,” but I was fired by the time the Panther Burns recorded for their 1st LP in the summer of ‘81. I always enjoyed playing it live because it’s a great tune and also because Tav didn’t sing on it (I came to appreciate those special moments when he was temporarily silenced). A composer and a musician I ain’t!AMF(American Musical Fantasy) Theme from a Summer Place/Don’t Let the Sun Catch You Crying 7” (Sympathy for the Records Industry) My latest (last?) recording. It’s also my 1st foray into band leading. I formed the band, picked material, booked the gigs, etc. Waiting until you turn 40 and become a father is probably not the best time to form your first rock band, I’ve found. Lack of time, commitments at home, and my own personal shortcomings (I’m still a prize jerk whether I’m a sideman or leading a group) have kept this band from being much more than a side project or my own delusional fantasy. Too bad cuz this is probably my favorite group to date. I picked old friends and drinkin’ buddies to play in AMF; most of us are over 40 and several members are well over 200 pounds (I’m close, that’s all I’ll say). A thousand pounds of talent and almost 200 years of life experience is our motto. These are two of my favorite pop songs and the band plays real purty. Pretty close to music, I’d say. I’ll quit when I can.I’ve done a number of other recording projects since, mainly with Jeff Evans/Gibson Bros./’68 Comeback/AMF and assorted no-hopers on indie labels of one sort or another. I’m fond of the stuff I’ve done with Jeff and company, but most of it is pretty sad and desperate. When will it end? Soon, I hope. In the meantime, I dream of stopping.Panther Burns Fun Fax #1GusTavo Falco’s former Panther Burns residence is 2545 Princeton in the baaaad part of Binghampton, Memphis. Tours can be arranged through the Chamber of Commerce.
Panther Burns Fun Fax #2GusTavo Falco made a cameo appearance as a tough-guy biker who needed a close shave in the underground film Highway 61. He did not steal the show in this flick.
Panther Burns Fun Fax #3GusTavo Falco occasionally writes soliloquies to Memphis music publications from his castle in Vienna reminding Memphians what a cinematic and dancing hero of whom they have lost.
Wed 19 Dec 2007
Entertainment and Arts Biographies/Non-Fiction: A Working Canon
Posted by Andrew Earles under Uncategorized[6] Comments
…as determined by me. The following books represent a collective yardstick by which all entertainment/arts-based non-fiction should be measured. This is a work in progress, and don’t let it be thought that these books are unable to stand on their own. Not the case, friends, not the case.
- Peter Guralnick - Both Last Train to Memphis and Careless Love: The Unmaking of Elvis
- Joe Carducci - Rock and the Pop Narcotic
- Nick Tosches - Dino
- David Cavanagh - The Creation Records Story: My Magpie Are Hungry for the Prize
- David Michaelis - Schulz and Peanuts
- Jimmy Mcdonough - Shakey: Neil Young’s Biography
- Henry Rollins - Get In The Van
- Julie Salamon - The Devil’s Candy: The Anatomy of a Hollywood Fiasco
- Frederic Dannen - Hit Men and the similarily-minded Stiffed: A True Story of MCA, the Music Business, and the Mafia by William Knoedelseder
…and my massive Bill Drummond biography, to be published when I’m well into my 40’s.
Let the comments fly. Let my spit fly at your feet.