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Frontier Records founder Lisa Fancher is with TVD all week celebrating the label’s 3oth Anniversary which culminates this Sunday night (11/7) with a 30th Birthday Party at LA’s Echoplex.
In the meantime, ever wonder what it takes to get a label off the ground?
Fools Rush in Where Wise Men Never Go… Some people start out in the mail room at William Morris, I got my big toehold in the "Biz" by doing inventory at a hippie record chain called Licorice Pizza, where they provided busted spring couches and gave away FREE red licorice so customers would hang out. Nightmare. I was failing Cal State Northridge fast because I had to go see bands play two sets at the Starwood, Whisky or Rox, therefore morning punctuality was a non-priority. When Greg Shaw called me up and asked if I wanted to work at the soon to be opened Bomp! store, I said yes knowing I was really never going to crack the books. And when I'm right, I'm right!
No thoroughly unqualified 18 year old could have asked for a better gig… I mean DESERVED! Even before the store opened, I bought "I'm Stranded," "New Rose" and "Anarchy in the UK" there (Greg was tight with Sex Pistols' artist Jamie Reid as well as Stiff's Dave Robinson. What was the only U.S. store with Stiff promo material, then?) as they had already stockpiled records and fanzines for the spring '77 opening. Rodney Bingenheimer spread the word and suddenly the Bomp! store was the place to shop. Devo, the Cramps and any other band that mattered personally dropped off their self-released 45s. People drove from all over the southland to shop here, including every member of every punk or wave band whether they'd formed yet or not, from Stan Lee (Dickies) to Chris D (Flesheaters) to Craig Lee (Bags). I collated my wildly unpopular fanzine, Biff! Bang! Pow! on the counter as if there were no customers, goodness knows I wasn't cramming for finals. (Paul Weller visited so I gave him a copy, later to find the back cover—a Xerox of my own Creation 45 on Planet—on the inner sleeve of ALL MOD CONS!)
I quit Bomp! to try (and fail) to "make it" in London in mid- '78 but upon returning Danny and I were hired by Michael "Jett" Compton to slave at the cursed and hated Licorice Pizza in North Hollywood. Steve Hufsteter (The Quick), writer Don Snowden, Cliff Roman (Weirdos) and Kid Congo (Cramps) soon joined the surly bunch. Hey, valley slobs with no taste—you want some attitude with that free licorice I restocked with my FEET? You got it! After a disastrous Licorice Pizza Christmas party we were fired en masse and I returned to Bomp! in the mailorder department. Sure, you would expect Wildman Fischer to talk into your record store, but mailorderers? Comic book times baseball card collector… I hold dear Jello Biafra in the greatest esteem for releasing Zolar X's TIMELESS but I knew my record wrapping skills would never make him happy.
I wrote LP reviews for the LA Times but was unable to curb my enthusiasm for milestones like the Ramones' debut album. AND WHY WOULD I??? Ken Tucker then gave me the chance to review live shows for the LA Herald Examiner, a fantastic way to get free records, get paid to go to punk shows I would have gone to anyway, and also shoot at clay pigeons like Styx. (Dear GLEE, There is nothing funny, cute or ironic about having kids sing Styx, Journey, REO Speedwagon songs that will ALWAYS SUCK. If you're humiliating them on purpose, then that is cool.) I still worked for Suzy in Bomp mailorder too. Greg unfathomably appointed me accountant for a while and—knowing I was certifiably Bobby Fuller touched in the head—gave me the plum assignment of going to El Paso to pick up all of Bobby's master tapes (contents mostly unknown) from his parents, Lorraine and Lawson, as well as meet and interview his former bandmates and tour manager, Rick Stone.
Though I was rather proud of being a college drop out, I still had a nagging feeling I needed to DO something, so I decided to release a record. I already knew the various steps and how much they would cost from being at Bomp!. I decided upon the Flyboys—I interviewed them for the Herald and knew they could use a benefactor.
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So, somewhere in 1979 I booked some time in Leon Russell's studio on Magnolia Ave where Johnette Napolitano (Concrete Blonde) was the receptionist and Jim Mankey (Bearsville era Sparks) was the house engineer. I had Bomp!'s Mick Toohig design the Frontier logo and Diane Zincavage design the Flyboys EP package, which I insisted "must JUMP off the rack." Frontier Records and FLP 1001 began just like that—no trust fund, no partners, no business plan… don't have one yet.
You remember that Desperate Bicycles B-side that ends with "It was easy, it was cheap. Go out 'n' do it"? It's far from truthful but it's a hell of a slogan.
We trust you, faithful TVD visitor, have seen that Jon is giving away some copies of a documentary about Harry Nilsson. But you must comment on that post to be eligible to win. Don't know as much about Nilsson as you'd like? Relax. We've made the trip from the '70s to be your guide.
You may know Nilsson for these singles: "Everybody's Talkin'" (a Fred Neil cover; you know it from the "Midnight Cowboy" soundtrack) or for "Me and My Arrow," from "The Point," a 1971 animated film. You may know Nilsson for these 1972 singles: The smash "Without You" (a Badfinger cover) and the irreverent "Coconut." You may even know "Jump Into the Fire," which features Jim Gordon's thunderous 45-second drum solo.
We trust you have heard them all on the oldies stream.
The latter three tunes are off "Nilsson Schmilsson," a 1971 release full of sunny pop goodness. Because it is so well known, we bring something else from the '70s.
"Son of Schmilsson"was the follow-up LP, released in 1972. It is by turns charming, eccentric, rude and in questionable taste. It suggests a guy struggling to keep his balance as waves of fame crash over him.
One song starts: "You're breakin' my heart/You're tearin' it apart/So fuck you."
Another song starts, then ends abruptly when Nilsson belches, then careens into the next song.
Still another starts: "I'd rather be dead/I'd rather be dead/I'd rather be dead/Than wet my bed." Performed with a British senior citizens glee club which had to be in on the joke.
The record ends this way, set as if in the last scene of an elegant Disney cartoon: "Tell her she's beautiful/Roll the world over/And give her a kiss/And a feel."
That was the dark side of Harry Nilsson. Here is more of that sunny pop goodness.
"Son of Schmilsson" is out of print but is available digitally.
Harry Nilsson was so loved among his peers that a tribute CD released in 1995, a year after his death, counted 23 covers by an astonishing array of talent. Here are three. Randy Newman - Remember (Mp3) Joe Ely - Joy (Mp3) The Roches - Spaceman (Mp3) (with Mark Johnson on guitar and the Smithereens' Mike Mesaros on bass and Dennis Diken on drums)
"For The Love of Harry: Everybody Sings Nilsson" is out of print but also available digitally.
Circle Jerks, Adolescents, T.S.O.L., Christian Death, Rikk Agnew, The Three O'Clock, Suicidal Tendencies, The Long Ryders, The Pontiac Brothers, Thin White Rope, Redd Kross, The Young Fresh Fellows, American Music Club, Heatmiser.
Pretty impressive roster there, hm?
For thirty years, LA’s Frontier Records—without undue hyperbole—has been at the forefront of musical culture. Defying genre classifications, the label and its founder Lisa Fancher stoked the fires of a rejuvenated punk scene, gave wings to New Wave when it was actually ‘new,’ added light (and shade) to an army of Goths, and nurtured many a burgeoning movement.
Frontier has also been strictly vinyl-oriented as well. Sure, there are CDs and Mp3s, but vinyl is their calling card.
Frontier’s founder Lisa Fancher will be with TVD all week celebrating the label’s 3oth Anniversary which will culminate this Sunday night (11/7) with a 30th Birthday Party at LA’s Echoplex, featuring a reunion by seminal hardcore/new wave band Middle Class who are together for the first time in 30 years. Also on the bill are The Adolescents, TSOL, Avengers, Deadbeats, Flyboys, Stains, and The Pontiac Brothers.
Til then, TVD is all Lisa's:
Are You Experienced? I may not be straight edge but don't call me no junkie…
They call diehard moviegoers Leadbottoms, but what is the term for people who can't keep their mitts off records? I'm not exactly sure what the first record I ever bought was but I know It was from one of those mom 'n' pop electronics stores with TVs, hi-fis, needles and the like. The counter featured side-by-side wooden bins with 45s, each with a yellow or red center adaptor and a crisp paper sleeve, sometimes even a picture sleeve! This store tilted toward Wayne Newton but a delightful 7-year-old me made a big enough fuss over the Beau Brummels "Just a Little" to have been placated with it. I know that Autumn logo and its amber label like I do my own name. First LP? That's easy—"Help" by the Beatles after my creepy friends and I sat through the movie twice on my birthday.
In the '60s, AM radio and variety shows weren't segregated so it was perfectly ordinary to love pop music created by blacks, whites, Latinos or big-haired country stars of either sex. My three older sisters had exquisite musical taste so I was lucky to grow up listening to their records too, things outside the hit parade, everything from R&B to surf. Despite being reasonably intelligent lasses, we'd sit in front of the TV set and scream at our favorite groups as if they could actually hear us!
I preferred the Stones to the Beatles, and the Yardbirds to either band. Social issues and music were moving at light speed by August '67, when my oldest sister Lynn brought ARE YOU EXPERIENCED home. I can remember the busting of the shrinkwrap and putting it on the spindle... I didn't have a clue what sex or drugs were but I understood Jimi viscerally ,and whether I was ready or not, he dragged me out of childhood by the scruff of the neck. My reverie interrupted when my three older sisters realized I was still in their room and screamed at me to GET THE FUCK OUT until they nearly stroked out. It's not that my best girlfriends didn't love music as much as I did, I knew that for me records weren't a casual past time. I took records seriously. I never cared if I fit in which was good because I set myself apart from the get-go by knowing what label bands were on and their discographies, I memorized lyrics and even album credits. Who does that? I never tore a record out of its jacket and left it out on the rug in my life… Records saved me, and I often preferred them to people, especially as my sisters' inevitable drug habits stigmatized me at home and at school for many years.
But it was Lynn that saw—and hated—the Velvet Underground at the Whiskey and bequeathed me her copy of VELVET UNDERGROUND & NICO with an unpeeled banana cover. How could I have not been a record collector? Buying records was catch as catch can until my boyfriend Mark and I would go to the Capitol Records parking lot swap meet at the crack of dawn in 1973 until it moved to the west side of Vine in the punk days. With virtually no money, I'd scour every box with a mission to find anything my glam idols cited as influential in the pages of Creem or Rock Scene.
We also accidentally stumbled upon a yard sale featuring only records belonging to a guy who, naturally, lived with his mother was moving north—everything had to go that very day. 45s were $1 and LPs were $2 and of course I only $10 to my name. I bought "See Emilly Play" with PS*, a UK Direction copy of Mickey Finn's "Garden of My Mind", Bette Davis , Marilyn Monroe, Ultimate Spinach's "Romeo and Juliet" and Zappa/Burt Ward's "Boy Wonder, I Love You" plus two LPs: KAK (never liked it) and the 13th Floor Elevators' EASTER EVERYWHERE. Sometimes I wake up screaming thinking of the records I left behind but it was a Saturday and pre-ATMs. *My sister Chris kicked my dresser drawer shut and ruined the Pink Floyd sleeve, if she didn't run faster than me I would have actually murdered her.
Motivated to never leave a yard sale devastated ever again, my first music biz job was doing inventory at Licorice Pizza. Sorrowful payday in hand, without fail I made the circuit of the original Moby Disc on Victory Blvd, the Capitol meet and various Hollywood record stores every weekend. (Anything I couldn't find in person I mail ordered.) I especially loved to visit Wallich's Music City on Sunset and Vine though Tower Sunset was slowly choking it out. Tower to me then was as daunting as Amoeba is now, but that was where I got the life-altering "Piss Factory" in 1974 and "Little Johnny Jewel" a year later.
Down the line Danny Benair and I attempted to live in London thinking we were going to establish our respective careers there. Ha ha funny in retrospect but not when you aren't holding return plane tickets… I brought a handful of rare records to England and ran FOR SALE ads in the weeklies as we ran out of funds. As much as I love my records I wasn't sentimental in keeping all of them—I could get another copy! Someday. But when I repurchased a record, it somehow didn't have any emotional resonance. And I was never one to pay market value so most of the really valuable ones (goodbye, KAK!) that have saved my keister over the years will only ever be fond memories at this point. Enjoy your records while you can and pass them along without regret if you have to. You still have your war stories to hang onto.
If I've learned anything it's that someone will always have more and better and rarer records than I do, so why lose sleep over it? A collector could spend a fortune and turn the world upside down but never top …… (fill in Greg Shaw, Ken Barnes, Jeff Gold, Eddie Gorodetsky, Brian Hogg, Glenn Baker, Danny Benair, Geoff Weiss, Jello Biafra, Chuck Warner, Johan Kugelberg, Curtis Taang and/or the obsessive of your choice) but I know record collectors, the other guys's stuff is okay but not great. I never hoped to be in the top dog realm but it's pretty cool to even have my name known by some of them.
I was lucky to have handled Greg Shaw's entire record collection when I typed up the info up onto index cards over the course of two years. Well before that, a friend took me to Bob "the Bear" Hite's home and I couldn't shut up about his collection for days. Thousands and thousands of 78s took up every inch of wall space (and most flat surfaces) in his sprawling North Hollywood ranch house. No one living or dead could ever approach the magnificence of it! Of course I had to ask him how many he reckoned he had… (I'd heard 15,000 to 100,000 before I saw it for myself.) Hite rolled his eyes and shrugged—a LOT! —Lisa Fancher
It's our weekly Twitter #MusicMonday recap of the tracks from last week that the folks in the press offices and PR agencies want you to be hearing. We post—you decide.
Alas Halloween is here. As far back as I can remember it’s been my favorite of all holidays. From a rocker’s perspective, it’s hard to find fault with any of the festivities going on this weekend. Dia De Los Muertos (aka Day of the Dead) is Saturday and that's an Angelino highlight. We’ll be sure to party on more than a few graves.
My goal for Idelic's “boo!!” was to create a Halloween mix you can cruise the strip to. While compiling this show some spooky things came to mind—DJ sets at Cramps shows from Tim Warren of Crypt Records. His playlists were spellbinding and inspired me to dig deep for weird and spooky sounds of the past.
I’ve always also dug those rock personas who embraced Halloween as an everyday way of life. Certainly Screaming Lord Sutch, Glenn Danzig, Siouxsie Sioux, Dave Vanian, Lux Interior & Poison Ivy come to mind as dedicated “24-7 ghouls”
So pop this mix in the car stereo and let’s celebrate “Ghoul’s Night Out” on The Idelic Hour. “Boo!!”
The Education of Diego | Part 5: “Iggy, Julio, and Separate Lives….”
Iggy Pop released the album Preliminaries in 2009. An album he sang in French in which he “after 40 years, could finally release his inter-continental.”
He goes on to say he could try to write and record something like “Search and Destroy” but it wouldn’t be as good.
I’m no Iggy Pop my friends, but I can relate… I just couldn’t wait 40 years to make this album.
My new record is done….
The Girls Are Yours
Nine songs on the malady of love.
Before I wrap up, I'll leave you with a a few clips:
One from a young Julio Iglesias.
It’s a recording of his song “Gwendolyne” for the Eurovision song contest that broke his career back in 1970. Three years later he would be world famous.
It shows a side of Julio I’m sure many of you have never seen. One in which he is still vulnerable. In which he is very much “there.” Before the tux and the tan.
And a live video for my song “Separate Lives” shot a few months back on the rooftop of the Standard Hotel, Los Angeles.
The song deals with an old story that everyone has lived….
It's direct.
I love you. You love me. We were one.
And then, as it always does, life separates the two lovers…
Is it me or are there a million things to do this Halloween weekend? From rallies to marathons to live shows, there's no excuse to not be hyper-social over the next 48. And we're going to toss another into your weekend mix:The DCRoller Girls Present The Garage/Soul Halloween Party!
The Blackberry Belles' Tony Ferrari offers a subtle arm twist by way of background on the night:
This Saturday, October 30th, The DC Rollergirls are hosting a Garage/Soul Halloween Party at the Rock and Roll Hotel featuring Billy Woodward and The Senders, The Blackberry Belles, The Dirty Names, The Dupont Circles, and DJ MAC spinning to keep the party moving. There will be a costume contest with $50 - 3rd place - bar tab, $100 - 2nd place - bar tab, and $200 - 1st place - bar tab. Plus, the DC Rollergirls will also contribute prizes for the costume contest!!!
DCRoller Girls Present The Garage/Soul Halloween Party! Saturday, October 30th | Doors at 8PM bands at 9PM | ALL AGES $10.00 | The Rock and Roll Hotel | 1353 H St NE DC
First up are The Dupont Circles. Shrouded in mystery, the seldom seen psychedelic garage pop outfit has been lurking about the District since 1988.
The Dirty Names take the stage next conjuring the dark art of pure rock and roll.
And finally, with the voice of an angel damned to sing the devil's music, Billy Woodward and The Senders will put a spell on you.
Won't you join us? We have such sights to show you...
WE'VE GOT A PAIR OF TICKETS TO POUT IN YOUR HANDS! Scare our skates off in the comments to this post and the most frightening of the bunch will get in free on us and the DC Roller Girls. Remember to leave us a contact email address too - boo!
You've attended them. You've been witness to musical meltdowns and horrific evenings. Yet, from the audience, you've been just a spectator.
The bands playing Yeah Gates' 'Spooktacular' on Sunday night at the Black Cat—America Hearts,The Cheniers, and Foul Swoops—have their own frightening tales to tell. Of their own on-stage nightmares. The shows that went hideously wrong. The gigs they'd never, ever want to relive.
These are their stories.
Foul Swoops, who celebrate the release of a new 7" on All Hallows Eve (along with America Hearts) share their Tales of the Macabre:
Dear Vinyl District,
“Are you afraid of the homeless men who occasionally ask you for cigarettes outside of Velvet Lounge?”
That’s probably the question we should have been asked, because to be honest, in the 12-15 shows we’ve played as a band, that’s about as bad as it's ever got. Also, the answer is no. At this point those guys make up a good majority of our fanbase.
Maybe someday one of us will be Dimebag Daryl’d but until then this is the best we got…
We did play a really spooky show in Boston last Halloween. Spooky almost entirely because it took place on Halloween. Here are some details of the horror:
Boogers: That was our costume and yeah we even slacked on that.
Microphones: Like most young/poor bands we have shitty equipment and our mics will shock you. Don’t think for a second that they won’t.
Four Loko vomit: Luckily this didn’t come from any of the Swoops. Scary to see in person nonetheless. Burger King: 4 band members. 4x. 1 weekend. Scared yet?
Metal band: When we showed up to my friends house there was a metal band practicing right next door. They seemed pretty bad ass.
Cops: Neighbors called the cops twice during our show saying they were “afraid of the noises coming from the basement” We’re pretty sure it was the Metal band that called.
Andy Warhol/uninterested audience: We’re not sure everyone who attended the show was fully aware what we were all about. Even the dude who dressed as Andy Warhol didn’t really dig our VU cover. At one point one of us asked the audience if anyone liked Beat Happening and one dude yelled back “Probably not.” After we played there was Girl Talk dance party.
Inhaling old kitty litter: No, this doesn’t actually get you high, but we’re pretty sure multiple years have been taken off our lives as a result of playing in what was essentially a litter box.
Stalker: Two of our members got one. To finally get her out of the house she was convinced they were all about to go get breakfast at 6am. She walked outside first. They closed the door.
Our visit with Diego Garcia (and his record collection) continues this Thursday:
The Education of Diego | Part 4: “The Sound, Sandro, and the Cello”
Back to Matisse:
“You must, when the time comes, change course, search for something new.“
So for the last four years I’ve been following my instincts in search for a new sound.
A sound that could properly deliver my message on love, or I should say the malady of love.
A sound only my story could tell.
Minor keys, cello, nylon guitars, light drums, and wooden tambourines would help create an environment for me to whisper the words into her ear…
“You will always live inside my heart in memories long after we’re apart. Even when my days are long and dark, you will always live inside my heart.” So with each new song, came a little healing, until eventually I started feeling “better.”
The irony is that as soon as I accepted closure, my heart opened up and the sound was born…
I was ready to love again.
A few records that helped along the way:
Sandro “Yo Te Amo” He passed away earlier this year while we where in the studio. It made everything a bit more real…
Serge Gainsbourg “Le Poinconeur Des Lilas”
Leonardo Favio “Fuiste Mia Un Verano”
"Creepshows."
You've attended them. You've been witness to musical meltdowns and horrific evenings. Yet, from the audience, you've been just a spectator.
The bands playing Yeah Gates' 'Spooktacular' on Sunday night at the Black Cat—America Hearts,The Cheniers, and Foul Swoops—have their own frightening tales to tell. Of their own on-stage nightmares. The shows that went hideously wrong. The gigs they'd never, ever want to relive.
These are their stories.
Today, it's The Cheniers' nightmares:
David Malitz | My old band played a show in Baltimore at a place called Charm City Art Space. The performance area is in this low-ceiling basement and it was all musty and dusty. The first song we played was one that I sang and I go up to the microphone and get shocked. Not a little zap, but a serious fucking SHOCK. I jumped back, approached again with trepidation. Same result.
I'm an idiot when it comes to technical stuff—every time my amp makes a crackling sound I'm convinced it's blown a tube, even though I barely know what a tube is—so I didn't know that the problem was that I wasn't "grounded" or some bullshit.
So for the entire song I keep thinking, "Oh, maybe it will get better" only to be stung each time. This happened about 10 times. We "grounded" everything after that but the next time one of my songs came up in the setlist I was too scared to go up to the microphone, like a mouse that gets shocked trying to eat a piece of cheese and eventually backs off.
John Masters | We decided to make a pit stop at a certain "gentlemen's club" in Atlanta after a Stamen & Pistils show back in 2007. The friend we were staying with spent a little too much time in the champagne room and insisted on driving us home on the freeway. He started passing out at the wheel and we swerved entirely off the road numerous times as we all screamed in terror.
Once we convinced him to let one of us drive, we got him back home to the apartment where we were all staying. He sat in a chair drunkenly mumbling and made me laugh, and that's when he quickly changed demeanor. "Is this guy making fun of me?" he asked everyone. "I'm gonna kick his ass." Aware of the fact the guy was about 15 times the size of skinny indie rock frame, I fled to my cot until he passed out—needless to say I didn't sleep well that night.
Ben Vivari | The scariest shows are always the first shows, right? An old band I was in, our first gig was at the probably-now-closed Vault in Baltimore. We were barely a band - we had two guitars, drums, no bass ... and we had never even heard of the other bands we were playing with, and outside of a few friends knew hardly anyone in the crowd. In the end we got through it with no major disasters but it was a stupid environment to play our first show and probably was the scariest - though far from worst - show we ever played.
It's our Thursday flashback, culled from the rare and (ultra) obscure crates of 80’s vinyl, curated by our pal Gil:
The Flex - From The Vacuum The Flex was an alternative indie rock band with three core members. They were founded and operated out of Chicago, IL. The group enlisted session assistance from seven other members, who supported on saxophone, guitars, and vocals.
Overall, the band sticks with the alternative rock formula that was very prevalent during the mid 80’s with such bands as Husker Du, The Replacements, The Pixies, and many more. There are times where The Flex trio push the boundaries and create a roaring hybrid of punk pop, which ended up becoming a popular off shoot genre in its own right. With song titles such as "Drunken Aerobics," one can see that they have their creativity genes intact.
The Flex spent a few years traversing the Chicago alternative underground scene and never reached the critical acclaim as their mainstream compatriots, however they didn’t feel the need to conform either. Thus you get a thirteen song album of uncompromising music that hasn’t lost any integrity or creative control due to major label meddling.
This lone album was recorded at The Pits in Rockford and independently released on Sonic Dinner Music. Check out the crawling excellence of "Sleeping Boys" in the song selection below.
It's Day #3 with our guest for the week, Diego Garcia:
The Education of Diego | Part 3: “Lolita, My Soul, and Mr. Walker”
Before moving on, I feel a need to address the second Elefant album The Black Magic Show. I have a hard time going back on this one, given the simple reason, “I simply was not there.”
Listening back to that record I hear someone else.
A product of late nights, neon signs, reckless abandon, and loneliness…
The innocence was gone.
My heart was on empty.
And the recording reflects this…
Just check out the video shot to the lead single “Lolita” which was shot in NYC at the legendary Chelsea Hotel.
I want to stress that I am in no way knocking the album.
It was what it was: an honest extension of my life at that time. More importantly, of where the band was at that time.
I am very proud of it for that reason.
Now, imagine reliving this record every night on stage?
I was out of my mind…
In fact, I broke my foot touring the album. More specifically, I fractured my “soul” which in retrospect was the ultimate sign:
It was time to write a record that only my story could tell and that sounded like nothing else… I'll leave you with one of the greatest songs on love/life before picking up again tomorrow.
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