Sgt. Potter’s Lonely Hearts Club Band

In celebration of Halloween. I can’t help it, this makes me laugh every time:



Ace Frehley’s autobiography won’t be released until next week, but you can read an extract from it now here. In an ominous sign, in the small excerpt that has been posted a total of five sentences end in an exclamation point. They include:

– That’s ten fuckin’ racks!
– You can partially credit my blind ambition to Mom and Dad!
– It was a life-changing event!
– Older girls!
– Bring it on!

Seeger Sighting

Looks like things with the Occupy Wall Street movement have been heating up in the last couple of days, and here’s an article to further warm the cockles of an old hippie’s heart: Pete Seeger at age 92 marching with his grandson in NYC this past week

Now We’re Supposed To Feel Bad For The A&R Man, Too?

From an interesting article in The Economist about the decline of A&R (

David Joseph, who runs the British arm of Universal Music, says A&R men used to be alchemists, discovering base talent and turning it into gold. “They made dreams come true,” he says.

But now:

Ritch Esra, publisher of the A&R Registry, calculates that of the 50 British and North American executives who left their posts in 2010, only ten managed to find another A&R job. Those who remain are playing a role that their predecessors would hardly recognise.

Happy Belated, Pod

The 10th anniversary of the first iPod’s release was yesterday, and because I am an insensitive creep, I totally forgot. Thankfully, the New York Times remembered. The following interview with a neuroscientist to mark the occassion confirms that the album is dead, teenagers don’t think of long-term consequences, and that scientists love Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (but fails to explain why everytime I finally go through the hassle of installing an update of iTunes, a new version comes out the next day):

Winslow ’81

A few readers emailed me after my post yesterday to let me know that Winslow had performed Zep tunes previously, but one guy tipped me off to this, which is so awesome that I’m sure it just damaged some of my chromosomes: Winslow, back in ’81, appearing in Cheech & Chong’s Nice Dreams, doing Hendrix, in a scene in which Tim Leary (!) gives Cheech some acid:

Whole Lotta Winslow

When I was a teenager, I saw the first Police Academy movie in our local theater, and Micheal Winslow blew my nerdy mind. Like millions of other virgins out there, the first thing I did when I got home was race up to my room, plug a cheap mic into my boom box, and go to freaking town: screaming, hollering, trying to recreate every noise I could think of, which eventually degenerated into long periods of farting noise that slowly (i.e. “artfully”) transitioned into a helicopter sound. On that day I was really convinced that making noise into a mic was a legitimate route to fame and I would one day be opening for the master Winslow on one of his tours. Like so many other dreams I once had, I eventually laid that one down to rest, but now it has come blazing back with this: