Wednesday, August 29, 2007

BOB DILDYN RADIO THEME HOUR #2 -- Butt Fuckin' & Shit


"What looks large in the distance, close-up ain't never that big. Except a woman's ass."

So says Bob Dildyn, as he muses through an x-rated hour Zimmy wouldn't touch at X-M Satellite radio.
Besides rude intros and raunchy songs, there's the "celebrity interview," this time, a crude Q&A cut-in with PAUL SIMON!

Dylanesque rambles on anal sex and "all kinds of crap" plop between songs like:
"Fuckin' in the Butt." "River of Shit," "Oops I Farted Again" (Britney Spears), "Toilet Love," "Keepin' Your Poop in a Jar" "Poop on My Pee," "Shishkebab," and "Uranus Is Out Tonight." Some foul songs are quickly dumped in for 20 or 30 seconds, like "Dogshit in my Garden," "Farting Fool" and some maniac Jamaican screaming "Somebody pooped!" Which is balanced by a demure British gal warbling "You're full of shit...full of shit."
Bob Dildyn's most ardent follower, A.J. Weberfuck, has allowed illfolks to post the show here (since his own blog is even more obscure than this one) but asks that anyone who also wants to use it, post this original link and don't re-up it as your own. That's so that A.J. can keep track of how popular (or unpopular) the Theme Hour is, and add the info to his huge and pointless dossier on his idol, the elusive Mr. Dildyn.
This is for ill folkies...so "parental guidance" is suggested. As if "Butt Fuckin' and Shit" didn't give you an idea of how down and dirty Dildyn is...

BOB DILDYN #2
Update for those who missed the first show:
"VAGINA" is still running.

ILL-USTRATED SONGS #6 : WHIPPING POST (Genya Ravan)


If "Genya Ravan" (hard G, last name pronounced like the bird) is only a vaguely familiar name, then you should be tied to the whipping post, not her.
But so should dozens of A&R men, disc jockeys, label execs and muddled music critics who thought rock blooze began and ended with Janis Joplin.
Always a hard-living and adventurous woman, the former Ms. Zelkowitz posed for vintage skin mags, formed "Goldie and the Gingerbreads" and toured with the Rolling Stones and then fronted (literally, as some raunchy extant pix prove) Ten Wheel Drive.
She then took a series of tumbles with brilliant solo albums that suffered from poor promotion (her debut on Columbia), bastardly production (like the well-titled "They Love Me, They Love Me Not") or drugged-up non-logic (an album titled "Goldie Zelkowitz" with no reference that this was actually Genya Ravan).
The agony you'll hear on "Whipping Post" is matched again and again throughout Genya's catalog, especially "I Hate Myself" and a passionate "Bird on a Wire" from her Columbia solo debut. Her latter efforts include the fiendishly sardonic "Aye Colorado" duet with Lou Reed and the loudly lusty "Won't Sleep On the Wet Spot" which highlight her two lps for 20th Century Fox, now on mp3 via links at genyaravan.com.
I saw Genya live, a year or two ago, and she's still a formidable presence. Off stage she's the sweet Jewish mama her real name implies. After all, she grew up on the Lower East Side's Rivington Street (yes, the "Birds the Word" Rivingtons borrowed the street cred) and she grew up amid a melting pot of ethnicities. I remember her having two cool kitties in the apartment uptown, and that everybody always wished her career would get the heat it deserved.
Her autobiography, "Lollipop Lounge" tells the hard luck stories of what happened along the way, and it's as horrific as any in the rock world, whether real ("Buried Alive") or not ("The Rose"). I once told Genya, "you're a survivor," and that pissed her off, because she's been more than that...she's been a mover, a shaker, and she's beaten all the odds from addiction to cancer, and she's always devised ways of keeping it real in the music business, whether issuing solo albums, producing albums for Ronnie Spector or The Dead Boys, or hanging out at CBGB's.
Take this track ripped from vinyl (which for some reason sounds better than the one I bought at eMusic) and consider it an invitation to check her site and find more, more, more. Each stanza of this song brings Genya closer to the raw meat and the bare bones. Or to borrow, out of context, a Phil Ochs line: "The whipping was rotten with ecstasy." Good Lord...Good Lord...Lord...I feel like I'm DYIN'!!!

WHIPPING POST Instant download or listen on line. No code words, porn ads or pop-up ads.

Note: No comments can be added to this entry, because asshole spammers, evidently using bots to find "sexy" headers (like "Whipping Post") kept leaving those moronic pidgin English messages: "Me like post, very good, come see my blog, nicey nicey," with a hot link to some crappy "porn" site brimming with spyware. You wonder what kind of mongoloids are going around to obscure blogs like THIS one, and inserting these idiot comments, hoping to trick somebody into identity theft. That's ILL, folks!

GINA GERSHON - "House of Woe"


Gina Gershon is hotter than Jessica Alba and Jessica Biel put together. Although maybe not hotter than a video of Jessica Alba and Jessica Biel put together.
Gina is one of the sexiest women on the planet, and if you don't agree, look at the photos. If you still don't agree, leave my blog, you antisemite. And don't download any of my other Jewish princesses, from Eydie Gorme to Dinah Shore to Genya Ravan. Feh! Double feh!

Gershon's always had a strong interest in hyphenating her fame, as in "actress-singer" and she's gotten some creds to back her up, from her movie "Prey for Rock & Roll" to a brief stint in Broadway's "Cabaret" (I think second or third to replace Brooke Shields, who was second or third to replace the original star of this second or third revival).
Her first solo album arrives any day now. Despite the Mylene Farmer goth cover idea (tears of blood) it's strong mainstream pop, although there may be one or two songs that carry too much of a country tinge.
Years ago, at some goofy press-party that drew Robin Williams and other celebs (Griffin Dunne fitting into the latter) I noticed a wickedly attractive girl moving about the periphery, and she gave me a sexy, assured stare when I walked over and took a few pix. She hadn't made a hit film yet, and somebody told me her name was "Tina."
Years later, nostalgically checking pages of chromes in various looseleaf bindings of party and event pix, I recognized that my mysterious "Tina" had become the goth, humorous, exotic, erotic, fascinating actress singer GINA...
She's still in the illfolks category because she's not yet renowned as a singer, and infamous mostly for her ill roles in "Bound" and "Showgirls." Perhaps her debut CD will vault her past cult status and out of my clutches.
When, in any fit of masturbatory homage, you purr her name, she pronounces it GEE-nah, grrrr-SHON. First name accent on first syllable, second name accent on second syllable. Now listen...
Gina sings: HOUSE OF WOE No wait time, code words, porn ads, pop-ups or foul balls

Sunday, August 19, 2007

ILL-USTRATED SONGS #5: GO TAKE A SHIP FOR YOURSELF Benny Bell



Here's a bit more of Benny Bell. He was a lovely man; a family man. He had a home in Brooklyn and much of his living was made by peddling his self-pressed music to local shops, as well as performing around town.
Benny divided his time between snazzy Jewish dance music (freilachs) and his risque novelty numbers. He's best known for the cutely crass "Shaving Cream," which was later covered by everyone from Dave Van Ronk to the Jolly Boys. As Benny's clear nasal tenor rose to pun a near-obscenity, you knew he was not trying to be obscene, just heard. He enjoyed being a corny wiseguy, and all he wanted you to do was smile.
Here's another bit of silliness, just in time for your Carnival Cruise vacation. Take it away, Mr. Samberg (no, his real name doesn't quite ring a Bell...)

GO TAKE A SHIP! Instant download, no porn ads, pop-ups or wait time.

Groucho's Daughter Melinda Marx Wasn't Petula Clark

Groucho Marx's youngest daughter, Melinda, doesn't want to be known as Groucho's youngest daughter, Melinda.

While son Arthur wrote several books about his father (as well as other comedians) and daughter Miriam put together a collection of letters, young Melinda's been...elusive. Which beats being bitter but funny, or alcoholic and Sapphic, as her siblings turned out to be.

You'll recall, if you're a Grouchophile, that sweet Melinda turned up as a little goddess of song on her Daddy's quiz show. Proud poppa insisted that she sing, as if she was auditioning for an "Our Gang" revival that might need a new Darla. However Melinda's enthusiasm waned. As did her mother Eden's...to the point where you can see just what kind of dysfunctional family they became...



...a chagrined kid, an alky wife (stepmom Eden) and a grouchy old hubby. Listening to this A-side single, cut post-puberty (6 years after this photo), you get the idea with "East Side of Town" that Melinda Marx didn't want to be the next "Downtown" Petula Clark.

You can almost imagine her telling the sound engineer: "can I get this over with in one take?" Turning Fabian's echo chamber into a mausoleum, here's Melinda Marx singing her way out of show business...

The East Side...and Down Side of Being a Celebrity Daughter Instant Download or Listen on Line

PHIL RIZZUTO - THE GOLD RECORD "Holy Cow!"


"That huckleberry!" Phil Rizzuto said.

Meatloaf's debut album yielded a hit song for both of them, but, Phil told me, "I had no idea what he was gonna do!"

Meaning, Phil had no idea the play-by-play he'd recorded would become the double-entendre filled highlight in the epic song "Paradise by the Dashboard Light." He shook his head in amusement. "That huckleberry!"

Nothing bothered Phil. Not really. Not for very long.

He was too busy counting his blessings: beating the odds on a 5'6" shortstop making the Big Leagues, the MVP award in 1950, being friends with Yogi and Jeter and Dimaggio and all the other great players, being a broadcaster for 40 years, getting into the Hall of Fame...and most of all, his wife Cora and his children.

So what if Meatloaf used his narration that way. As it almost always did for him, whether failing a tryout for the Dodgers or getting cut by the Yankees in 1956, it worked out fine after all. I remember the day he got the Gold Record plaque. In the elevator after the little ceremony, the guileless Scooter wasn't even thinking about himself. "Meatloaf!' he said. "What IS that guy's real name?"

That guy? Marvin Aday. I spent an hour with Mr. Loaf once, and we talked a bit about Phil. Meatloaf was of course a big Rizzuto fan, but a little disappointed in his recording experience with him: "The first few times, he was just reading the lines. It was hard getting him to be Phil Rizzuto!"

Well, yeah...because the greatest thing about Phil Rizzuto was his spontaneity. He worked best being himself...wide-eyed and a little wacky, like this classic from the WPIX archives: "And he hits one in the hole. They're gonna have to hurry. They'll never get him! They got him. How do you like that? Holy cow. I changed my mind before he got there, so that doesn't count as an error..."

Phil was beloved by everyone who ever knew him or heard him or watched him play. He loved everyone, too. Some of his contemporaries would turn down autograph requests, or ask for money, but Phil would patiently sign, and he was proud of being able to put HOF (Hall of Fame) below his signature, and then add his retired number...#10.

Phil died peacefully in his sleep at the age of 90. I wish that #10 could've been added so that he lived to be 100. Two words about Phil Rizzuto. Watta guy.


Phil Rizzuto, MVP, Hall of Famer, and Gold Record winner for:

"Paradise by the Dashboard Light"
Instant download, you huckleberry!

ILL-USTRATED SONGS #4: CONEY ISLAND - Herb Alpert


Summer is ending, and if it wasn't all you wanted it to be, then recall the nostalgia of bygone days at the beach...via this snazzy little instrumental by Herb Alpert.

Perhaps, after "Spanish Flea" and "Lonely Bull," Herb had finally decided to explore his Jewish roots for "Coney Island." Sadly the fad for kicky brass band antics was over, and his peppy gem was not a hit. Illustrating the song is a picture from a recent event at "Coney Island," a place that's a little different from when the horny guys from Tijuana were on the high C's.

CONEY ISLAND! Instant download, no porn ads, code words or pop-ups.

Thursday, August 09, 2007

JULIENNE IRWIN sings PATSY CLINE


Julienne Irwin made it to the Top 8 of "America's Got Talent" the hard way; by simply being what she is, a 14 year-old with a fresh look and a great voice. Whether she wins or loses, makes more than one CD or none at all, she helped make the summer a little more pleasant. There was plenty of hot humid air, torrential rain, and so much of Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears and Paris Hilton being dumb that even die-hard pervs were getting creeped out.
The summer series "America's Got Talent" is a less boring "American Idol," since it varies the way people can be annoying, and isn't restricted to singers overdosing on extra vowels just to show-ow-ow emo-oh-oh-oh-tion.
With Jerry Springer hosting, most viewers were prepared for a genial freakshow, and there were lots of laughables, from a tearfully inept Russian drama queen gymnast to a joyfully self-confident porcine Shakira impersonator. There were terrible acrobats, wince-producing novelty acts, dubious street performers and The Stepford Duttons of Branson, a gruesomely toothy family that would make Mormons approve of abortion, up to 60 years after birth.
Irwin always stood out from the rest because she had such amazing pipes for a 14 year-old, and never copped an attitude. Or as Sharon Osbourne cooed, "You are such a great role model for other girls in this country. You don't flaunt what you've got. You dress appropriately -- you're just great." Well, yes, compared to others in the Top 8, including a fat white guy who's made a big deal out of being "modest" while ripping off every black reggae singer he's ever heard, a greasy self-absorbed cruise ship singer (and shouldn't semi-pro ringers be kicked off this ostensible amateur hour?) and another teen female-nom who plays the race card (she calls herself, ah, "Butterscotch") and has fascinated the judges by making fart noises into a microphone.
Julienne Irwin has modest aspirations: "This is so silly, but I hope one day I get to sing the national anthem at an Orioles game. That would be so great."
Her take on Willie Nelson's "Crazy" is nicely updated, sans the hard edge of the worldly Patsy Cline, but with a smooth arrangement that freshens up the melody without adding too many vowel movements.
Here's "Crazy" (in retro mono, as tribute to Ms. Cline) as performed by Julienne Irwin at age 14, live in front of 12 million people. Amazing. Julienne cooks! Julienne fries!

Julienne Irwin sings "Crazy" Instand download or listen on line. No wait, porn ads or pop-ups.

SWAT MILLIGAN! BASEBALL HERO


Barry Bonds, of the S.F. (steroid-filled) Giants? He's no hero. Not like... SWAT MILLIGAN!

Swat came to semi-fame 70 years ago via "New York World" reporter Bozeman Bulger's short stories. Swat's next and last shot, was this novelty track by Ernie Sheldon. As childish as this song is, it fit in with the days when Valmy Thomas, Pumpsie Green and Enos Slaughter played ball, "Americana" was in, and goofy tunes like "Come Onna My House" and "Banana Boat" were Top 10 hits.

Just as Disney served up "Casey at the Bat" via cartoon, energetic Ernie Sheldon tried to make a novelty craze out of this fictional baseball player for the Poison Oak team, long after Bozeman Bulger was going, going, gone. Bulger was a contemporary of Damon Runyon, and ghosted "as told to" sports books, including "My 30 Years in Baseball" by John McGraw back in 1923.
Here's Ernie and his jolly gang singing "Milligan! Swat Milligan! Clobber that ball!"
Sapristi! He apparently struck out with this.
The humor here is, alas, nowhere near the level of Spike Milligan, and Ernie couldn't get Thurl Ravenscroft to goo up that basso "Clobber that ball" line, but if you thought Wyatt Earp was "brave courageous and bold" you might get a lift from this musical whiffle ball.
If it's a choice between singing dopey 50's tunes or singing the praises of steroid-pumped clods like Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa or Bobby Bonds...I'll swing with Swat.
Listen and envision this as a Disney cartoon short, as you picture "Swat Milligan" and his antics. Now that Bonds artificially broke Hammerin' Hank's record, forget about it and listen to Ernie Sheldon -- and that bunch of background singers that were probably banned from singing along with Mitch.

SWAT MILLIGAN Download or listen on line. No wait, porn ads, pop-ups or foul balls.

ELEVEN 'Tears On My Pillow"


Some of the best songs are the simple ones. Or so it seems.
"You don't remember me. But I remember you."
"Tears on my pillow. Pain in my heart caused by you."
The subtle questions asked in the song: a) is the singer going to do something more than cry about it? ("You don't remember me..." suggests a stalker, doesn't it?)
And b) is the singer straight or gay?
Richard Barrett, who was trying to get "Little Anthony" Gourdine signed to a deal in 1958, recalls: "I had some time trying to convince (producer) George Goldner that the public would go for Anthony's high-pitched voice. What George thought was a lisp was in fact intentional vocal styling by Anthony."
Yes, Anthony intended to sound like...a childlike male hurt for the first time, a woman hurt for the umpteenth time, a simpering gay, a feisty lesbian or whatever a listener on the radio wanted the singer to be!
Is it that surprising that the other big hit version was the cover by Timi Yuro? The woman with the gender-bender name had a range between alto and alternative lifestyles. The next big cover version was from gay icon Kylie Minogue.
The song is musically androgynous, too. It's pop, it's rock, it's R&B and it's C&W. Unlike "96 Tears," there's no number of "Tears on My Pillow," and if you want to be rude, the "tears" could be symbolic of some other form of wetness, and there's nothing more humiliating than a soggy one-night stand and a dry-cleaning bill.

You get 9 versions here, plus two bonus tracks: two more songs titled "Tears on My Pillow" that use that phrase for entirely different lyrics and melodies.
ELEVEN TEARS ON MY PILLOW Tears Galore

Also this link TEARS ON MY PILLOW In case the other link's hinky

SAND RUNS OUT - Hazlewood Dies at 78


Sort of like a cross between Johnny Cash and Sonny Bono, Lee Hazlewood had a tough, almost literally flat voice and he was best when it contrasted to a similar female one. With Cher already taken, this cowpoke prodded Nancy Sinatra into stardom for them both. First he shaped Nancy from a sweet "Daddy's Daughter" performer into a painted, tainted boot-stompin' tough gal, then he began to duet with her.
Barton Lee Hazlewood, who died last Saturday, wrote "These Boots are Made for Walkin'" and the neatly nasty follow-up, "How Does That Grab Ya Darlin'?" He hit the charts with her on "Jackson" and "Summer Wine," and they made several albums including the fairly recent "Nancy and Lee 3" which failed to get a UK or USA release, even though it had some excellent tracks amid some corn and a few clinkers. Nancy sounds particularly good and Lee's a formidable octave lower. A sample of how good it could get is below; "She Won't."
Like Jimmy Webb, Lee Hazlewood could write both solid rock and soggy pop (remember Nancy's "Sugar Town"?)...but also like Webb, the Okie rarely got attention on his own solo CDs.
He knew he was dying when he put the finishing touches on "Cake or Death" the title a clue that this would be both sweet and sour, a sometimes cute often caustic musical brew of coffee, Bovril and saki. His voice was pretty strong, though not on "Boots," which does have lounge-cool brass, a twangy-guitar (he did work with Duane Eddy) and gives you the original, more masculine melody line. The lyrics are the same (including that great bit of poetic illiteracy, "you keep lyin' when you oughta be truthin').
My first choice for a salute goes back to the Cowboy Lee and Lady Nancy days, when their unrequited sexual tension was hottest (he was married) and he was moving past Ol' Blue Eyes as the main mentor and influence in her life.
"Sand," is really just a truckstop one-nighter, but producer-genius Lee uses courtly dress-up (catch the word "thee"?), Doors-type pseudo clever "fire" analogies, and shoves Beatles backward-tape psychedelia into the middle to take the concept of froggy guy and frosty princess to new depths and heights simultaneously. Or as we dudes say; "Sweet!"
Nancy: "Oh sir, my fire is burning high. If it should stop, sir, I would die. The shooting star has crossed my land. A wandering man."
Lee: "She whispered SAND...young woman shared her fire with me. Now warms herself with memory. I was a stranger in her land. A wanderin' man. She called me Sand."
Get it? Sand ran out on her. Sand bagged her. So many more of these, which you couldn't think of if he was named Grits.

SAND Instant download or listen on line.
SHE WON'T (from the last Nancy and Lee album, released only in Australia) Instant download or listen on line.