E = MC5 & STOOGES! Heavy Music USA ‘Creation Myth of a Grande Tribe’ {LWA: Longhairs w/ Attitude: Detroit Rock City & the Power u.v. Infinite Boogie}

SHOOTING FOR THE MOON’S PYRE~GARDENS OF UNEARTHLY DELIGHTS?

{What 1way Tickets to Palookaville Cost the Soul  and How Mediocrity was Vanquished} 

 

I.  KICK OUT THE JAMS, MOTHERFUCKERZ ! ! ! 

{Why Detroit Rock City’s the Deltadaddy of Hotrod Whizkidz. . .}

 

The voice said in a deep baritone ” Let there be Fred ‘SONIC’ Smith to first lay down the tracks of chugging primal thrashtastic fatback goodBADness whilst holding up a fist of defiance to the sky, posing in frozen windmills of WHO power. With the attitude of a assembly line ruthlessness, let Dennis ‘MGT’ Thomson rattle forth an inseparable relentless mercy-free beat. To Wayne Kramer’s juvenile delinquent Nobel prize Link Ray rumblin’ meets Sun Ra style freakout leads these grooves shall crush the non-beleivers souls. May the be-Afroed Rob Tyner thus chant his soulful heartfelt romantic like a switchblade lyrics & vocalizations and shimmy shake and boogie across the stage in a way that wuld make Elvis his bad self blush. Whilst Michael Davis somehow gives with his musclecar basslines ground to this electric storm on Jupiter sound as the sparks and undulations of the serpentine power of blues venture forth into the future like electric neon boogie snakes.

Let the band drape American flags over their amplifiers in solidarity with that half of the population who are tired of war mongering, greed based social caste systems based not in wisdom yet instead the power of the dirty dollar. The MC5 shall place that flag onstage as a declaration that the constitution does not exist at the end of a police baton or Kent State bayonet, yet in it’s place the manifestation of a will to power using electric guitars to reclaim the Voice of the People of the Streets, and of the Feilds, and the downtrodden and forgotten whose parents and grandparents filed through Ellis island and ended up in places like Detroit looking to earn an honest living for their families. Only to find that corporate Mad Men had already begun pulling the carpetbagging rug out from under the very factory workers who had made them trillionaires.

If the genuine American Dream was to thrive some songs of a true testifying Sounds of Liberty. And like the factories where it would seem they were pre-destined to work (later like Judas Priest literally in Birmingham, England would play metal as opposed to making it at British Steel) the MC5 would work up a sweat crafting their riffs of emancipation 1st in gargages & High School auditoriums & veterans Halls and later all the way to the stages of Europe and America.Bless the MC5 with 200 watt Marshall Majors, later to be called ‘The Pig’.  Both sides of the term would trouble them endlessly, the former due to unstable power transformers, the latter starting because they chose to use the most un~sacr0sanct Oedipal word to launch their most famous anthem. And the name of The Song shall be uttered unto MC5 as the prophets of Freedom Rock.

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II. GARAGE HEPKATZ SUFFERED FOR THEIR ART, NOW IT’S YOUR TURN ! ! !

{When you’re Born to Lose, you Live to Win. . .}

Mick Ronson of Ziggy Stardust & the Spiders from Mars coined the nickname Pig for Marshall Majors; only Ritchie Blackmore in late Deep Purple/ early Rainbow were crazy enough to tap the loudest Marshall ever made. So the MC5 were god damn LOUD, and it was goddamn good flatout, no-holds-barred, firing on all 12 cylinders & 200 watts per 8 speaker stack American rock’n’roll. And thus the unholy ghost did whisper in Tyner’s ear, say this unto thy flock of rock faithful at the Grande Ballroom: KICK OUT THE JAMS, BROTHERS & SISTERS ! ! ! And with those words punk, metal and glam/shock/glitter rock were born. And the angels of doom drenched guitar bliss thus prophesied a tryptych trilogy of books to be written by Xarrier Vorticite, thus relaying in lurid detail the true testimonial of truth in Motorcity Rock and how it begat all things heavy, aggr0, & hardcore in subsequent electric guitar music.

If you were born on the Scorpions stinger~tail end of the fabled 1960’s, that meant you grew up exactly in the 1970s! The 70’s are seen now as a fluffy, weird colored tv rerun with big collared poly shirts and disco. The other side of the tracks brewed a tougher breed, a ‘New Race’ of Ron Asheton’s ‘New Order’ of ROCK-N~f~N-ROLL. In the beginning there was the MC5 and it was good. And the lord cast forth a 100 foot PA power~snake from the heavens, and he said: Shine (surfer for forget/ F it) the lameass music & fashion! And he looked about and every city was weak and false and full of copycat maggots who quaffed from the Main Stream. Except the MOTOR CITY…Detroit Rock City! And the lords of musicgods said “Where is my main man?” And MAIN MAN management thus promoted Bowie (and failed to keep IGGY on his self worn leash/dog collar!). And the music gods sayeth to the Asheton Brothers in a wayback machine to early 60’s: quit high school. Tell your mom you’re going to Liverpool to see the Beatles and maybe you will meet a pre Rocking Vicars LEMMY at the bar of the Cavern Club.

Then stand around the local cool record store looking even cooler and menacing. And the Music gods said to Osterberg: thou shalt change thy name to IGGY and go to the Windy City. There lookup Sam Lay, drummer for Muddy Waters and Bob Dylan. Sit at the foot of the bandstand and learn how the music rolls off the masters drums like water or a greasy pair of (fill in the blank based on your regional/ ethnic food preferences). Roll one and walk the perimeter of the Great Lake, and you shall receive the teaching. Those shalt teach the Rolling Stones and entire British Invasion a lesson as to just where the Infinity u.v BOOGIE rock began, here in the USA from the black Chicago ELECTRIC BLUES. Go see the Doors and watch Morrison taunt the jocks and fratboys who chant for Light My Fire. Watch as he 1st refuses to sing then only in a cryptic falsetto. Watch him mock and therefore control the crowds every vibration. Play in the Iguanas till your drumming learns you the power of the groove. Then: > > >

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III.  TUNE OUT, TURN ON . . . DROP DEAD ! ! ! {How the World’s Forgotten Noisy Night of Living Dead~Boyz became Streetwalking Cheetahs with Heartbreakers full of ‘No Fun’. . .}

Never forget this LISTEN: when onstage it is your universe and those who attempt to steer your will to power in any way except your own way shall be not be suffered gladly for the fools they are. Drop thy Doors extreme time changes and jazz chord voicings, but keep there foundation in Roadhouse Blues. Sing not about Horse Latitudes but what happens when you ride on the Horse with No Name! Thou shalt return to Detroit and tell the so~called Dum Dum Boys {who are, in truth, sharper than anyone else’s edgiest knife from the block} to stop being pre-slacker thugs in front of the record store and form THE PSYCHEDELIC STOOGES. We the music godz shalt secure thee a gig on your 21st birthday opening for the baddest power trio on Earth (JH EXP had yet to play town yet): CREAM! Thou shalt shave thine eyebrows then paint they entire body with silver stage paint and wear a silver clown wig. Thou shalt forget that the paint will melt in the stage lights and cause you to be blind. Thy ever ruthless bandmates shall dub thee IGGY and you shalt stop sawing 50 gallon oil drums with contact mics.

Thou shalt procure a ’67 Gibson Flying V & a few good Strats for RON ASHETON, whose even more street-tough brother ROCK ACTION shall pound thee skins without relent for the FM singles radio style or mercy upon the yearnings to dance for the “trailer park princesses & intellectual stoner ” fans as thy Chosen Ones so gracefully described early Stooges fans. Thou shalt DENY the fans their alleged FREEDOM u.v. CHOICE to indulge in the heaviest of jams? Thy band shall rename itself merely THE STOOGES. Thou shalt spend all gig money on partying and MARSHALL TRIPLE STACKS because that’s how the WHO and the CREAM learned you at thee GRANDE BALLROOM.

Your band of not so merry pranksters shall unleash thy fury as a WALL u.v. SOUND, not as that psycho Phil Spector defined this sound, yet only as the 4 STOOGES choose to implement thee Triple Stacks and/or implant your equipment truck into a convertible whence passing under 10 foot spans in a 14 foot truck. So on the 8th day the spirits of infinite sound did not rest (not the angel YES sings of in ‘Roundabout’; these seraphim are more HotRod Whizkidz than holy ghosts), and spoke thus to the Grande Ballroom in the middle of the night when no one was there to hear and it was closed. Yet the PA was on in an instant and a mysterious light glowed bluish white on the stage. And it was badass to the core.IMGP3022

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