"Come To LA" (1979) performed by the disco disciples that were Chilly, who were actually from Germany - but who really cares, right? The band members are Ute Weber, Sofia Ejango, Oscar Pearson and Werner Sudhoff (the blonde guy who left the group or was nixed later on - I'm guessing he was nixed). Chilly put out a string of records on Polydor between 1978 and 1982 produced by Bernt Möhrle, recorded at Europasound Studios Frankfurt.
Looking through the lens I focused my camera for the shot, but looking at the picture on the back afterwards it was all out of focus. It kept happening again and again. What was going on? When I uploaded the photos to my computer, however, they were all in focus. That's when I got really confused - until it finally dawned on me that the focus problem wasn't the camera, it was my eyes. It seems relatively recently that my near vision has taken a bit of a nosedive. I'd started tromboning my reading materials, adjusting the distance of my hold on them until I found a place where I could actually see it. Putting these facts together there was no denying it was time. I bought my first pair of reading glasses. I feel officially old now.
I love this song and although it is classic italo-disco, it's actually from Spain. Ivan (aka Juan Carlos Ramos Vaquero) found his greatest hit with this track thanks to producer Pedro Vidal. In 1984 "Fotonovela" not only hit number one in Spain, the album sold 6 million copies throughout Europe.
During my lunch with Maria, where we focused more on our chips and salsa and guacamole than our mediocre entrees, she listened as I caught her up on recent events. After I explained in detail what has been going on with me surrounding recent adjustments to my new life in the City of Angels, she said, "Wow. So you're finding yourself rebuilding at a much lower level than you would have even imagined." And that about sums it up perfectly.
Rich Fields is the announcer for The Price Is Right and when I arrived at CBS to take part in the second episode of "Rich Fields Gone Wild" all I really knew was that my friend Jon would be there and that Adam West was somehow involved. Entering the parking lot, however, I soon found myself up close and personal with not only the original Batman himself, but the Batmobile. It was pretty cool.
On the set I was seated alone at a table eating a salad. It was a chicken ceasar salad. It wasn't bad, which was good, because I spent the next four hours eating it incredibly slowly as take after take was shot. It was, however, actually a lot of fun and the episode should be pretty great when it's all finished. Adam West was incredibly gracious and hilarious, as was Rich as well. If you want to see something funny, check out Adam's Facebook post about it. I'll let you know when the second episode is online, but in the meantime, here's episode one with Lou Ferrigno of "The Incredible Hulk."
Maria Bustillos writes in her book Dorkismo: The Macho of the Dork: "Like its etymological prototype, 'machismo,' dorkismo connotes a kind of inner pride and self-confidence. It is the Macho of the Dork, or dork cojones, if you like: the courage to be yourself, despite the risk or even certainty of being thought a total idiot." Whoever our dancer is, I believe she is displaying dorkismo of the highest caliber. Her song selections, Bobby O's "She Has a Way" and Pamala Stanley's "Coming Out of Hiding" are deep crate disco dorkaliciousness, but does she care? No. She loves these songs. She loves to dance to them. In fact she's gone and videotaped herself doing just that and posted it on YouTube so everyone can know just how much she freakin' loves it! And there's plenty more for your perusal where this one came from.
While there are web sites and web "masters" that have developed entire careers based on the posting of such videos and subsequently tearing them apart for audience amusement, my goal for 2010 is to be a lot more like our tiny dancer, to care what others think a whole lot less and to strive to live in the highest joy of what truly delights me a whole lot more, no matter how stupid it might be, no matter how gay it looks, no matter what a dork it makes me. But you say, "Wait a minute, you're like this hula hooping guy in your 40's, among other things. We're already well aware of just how big a dork you are." True, and there are times I genuinely don't care and can let it all go, and then there are others where I find myself making apologies for who I am, what I like, playing smoke and mirror games to foggily reflect only the things I think are worthy of being shown. And as if it isn't bad enough that "they" don't even get to know or see the real me in the process, what's worse is that I'm the one who preemptively censored myself. I'm the asshole critic reviewing my life script with a head full of self-talk resembling a yappy little dog, one that needs to be politely told to shut the fuck up, so I can get on with the business of enjoying life, to its fullest!
In case you've been wondering why I'm not blogging, I actually am, I'm just doing it in 2001. It's the kind of thing that can happen following a lunch with Maria Bustillos. One moment you're enjoying your mole and frothing with delight over your mutual love for Dynasty, and the next you're left surrounded by a veritable plethora of your old online ramblings. I wasn't sure what to do with them all until they revealed themselves to be intricate pieces of a higher Universally directed puzzle. It seems only by not dismissing and forgetting the past will I be able to unlock the future. The writings I am currently unearthing, with all the care of Louis Leakey and some hand sanitizer, are from the summer and fall of 2001, taken from the wreckage of the East Coast/West Coast award-winning blog I'd shared with long time best pal Choire Sicha - who also seems to be in the midst of a time warp of his own.
I will say this, the archaeological discovery, these long lost fossils and arrowheads of verbiage are already revealing that I used to write, I used to write without being guarded, I used to write without being guarded as if nothing mattered but self expression - and while a modicum of self-restraint is indeed one of today's more valued virtues, beyond the dust and pebbles I believe I just might have found my voice, immaculately preserved on a HAL 9000.
It's no big secret that I like my disco, but in the last two weeks I've caught the fever all over again. Running into Jon Bily, one of my best friends from the disco years, has resulted in lengthy conversations surrounding the general theme of "Do you remember when?" And of course we talked about the music. There was a significant playlist at that underage gay nightclub in Seattle that wasn't remotely within earshot of the general public, songs you just never heard anywhere else, and I found myself wanting to hear them all again. That's when Jon told me he could do me one better. Oil Can Harry's in Studio City celebrates disco every Saturday night, with the occasional earbomb from our previously forgotten soundtrack hitting the speakers as well. And after working it on their dance floor to Cut Glass, Antonia Rodriguez and Lime, I have to admit I needed my temperature taken. I was burning up! There was this inferno and I wanted to not only hear all the old tunes again, I wanted to procure a mountain of previously undiscovered disco treasures as well. And with a little guidance, the aid of a decent mp3 search engine and an mp3 extractor that can turn an easily hijacked YouTube flv file into an iPod favorite, my disco collection has been growing daily. Have you heard of the Addrisi Brothers? I had not, but listen to Ghost Dancer, a new disco favorite. They just don't make truly incredible crap like this anymore.
How we haven't heard more about Asha Puthli is a crime. The disco-soul-jazz Indian goddess pumped out ten albums in the 1970's - and it wasn't until a number of hip-hop artists started sampling her 30 years later that people started paying attention. Perhaps best known for her stirring vocals on free jazz legend Ornette Coleman's "Science Fiction" album, Asha was and still is a pioneer of jazz, funk, soul and electronic dance music. Trained in Indian classical singing with a four octave soprano range, Puthli created her own unique sound before we'd even thought about acid jazz and ambient dance music.
Performing "The Devil is Loose" in 1978 above, Asha reprises it as opening track on her first new album in years entitled "Lost," a record that is mind bogglingly brilliant. I had to listen to it a second time immediately, I just couldn't take it all in. I must admit I expected her to simply cash in with an album of dreamy east Indian vocals layered on smooth jazz beats, but after my first listen I realized - when has Asha ever taken the easy road? The title track "Lost" about losing everything including your faith is amazing. The journey we take with Asha on "Salty Dog" conjures lighters waving in the air to a most unexpected rock anthem. She drives things a little harder on "Love Unconditional" sharing with us her secret of life. On "War, What For" her vocals turn an otherwise simple anti-war song into something powerful. "Tell Me Why" delivers the flavor I expected when I bought her new album - only delicious jazz that's light years better than I'd even hoped for. "Shine In The Sky" teaches us what sensuality is really all about and I admit I shed a few tears first time I heard it. "Dum Maro Dum" is worldbeat all the way and I can't wait to hoop to it. "Merey Dil May" continues on that route only chilled - and the production is so freakin good. Chills. "My Prayer" is a very sweet cover of The Platters classic she's made entirely her own, doing the same with the closing track "L'Hymne À L'Amour" from Edith Piaf. "Lost" proves Asha isn't lost at all, she knows exactly where she is and maybe now, finally, the world can catch up to her. It's on iTunes.
