A Heapin Mess A Blues Muscle / Beck, Bogert And Appice

I could come off sounding all-knowing and bad-ass by tossin out names like The Yardbirds, Vanilla Fudge or Cactus. But with my luck, somebody'd call me on it and I'd be busted.
Although it's true, one brother did bring home Vanilla Fudge, Big Brother and the Holding Company and Blue Cheer albums. While my other more halo-ed brother won out with albums by the Kingston Trio, Judy Collins and Blood Sweat and Tears. To this day I'm a little too sensitive. Thanks alot Karla Bonoff.

But IF I had a Jeff Beck period, Beck, Bogart and Appice were it.

While I haven't yet mastered how to upload tunes on my blog yet, there is still time. And while the two of you are waiting, please check out Beck, Bogert and Appice's Black Cat Moan on my Facebook thing, It's kick ass.

credits:
spiders.com

The Lee 101-J / Vintage, Slim Fit And Bad-Ass

The Lee 101-J is the real McCoy. The 1965 inside label is one of the last to read: Union Made, Sanforized and Made In USA










The Lee Storm Rider, pictured above, is the winter sibling of the slim fit 101-J. Just add a blanket lining and a corduroy collar.
Of course the 2010 version isn't a 101-J by name. And is somewhat more relaxed in fit. More age and beer belly appropriate.
Oh, and good luck finding one.

Credits:
oscarapparel.blogspot.com
vintagemotorcyclejackets.com
itempost.jp

(Kinda) Funny On The Inside

By some standards, maybe even most, I'm probably not going to be nominated Salesperson Of The Year. Not that I haven't strived to walk that red carpet. It's just that those base people person skills that are fundamental to the trade, didn't quite dip their toes into my gene pool.
So for me to be "on" for any duration of time while engaged with an account is, my close friends will tell you, veering more toward comical, even YouTube worthy as I troll and stumble through random small talk, which I deplore, hoping to sink that hook into that morsel known as common ground. Verbose I am not.

I started some 10 odd years ago as a sub-rep for a tyrannical little toad with a Napoleon Complex selling Italian sneakers. After a few miserable attempts at plying my wares at some Ma & Pa stores in BFE, I finally snagged a whopper at a shoe boutique on Chicago's Clark St. and then I was hooked. ( okay, okay I'll put a stop to the fishing metaphors already)

Sure, I've had more than my share of detractors. One rep from Minnesota told me I'd never establish relationships with major buyers because there were too many layers to my personality. And that they'd surely move on before getting to the one they may actually like. With him it was like, "hey hey, what you see is what you get." And I'm thinking, nobody gives a rat's pa-tuty about your golf game fella.

So keepin your trap shut because:
A) You prefer a more hands-off, let them make their own choice, type of approach.
B) You are crap-yer-shorts nervous cuz you REALLY need that account and that you know positively that the next thing to come out of your mouth will at best, be inappropriate.
Or C) I got nuthin, is really far more natural than any BS'y thing I could conjure up.

In the end, I've settled for being called the most unrep-like rep...and I'll take that.

Credits:
d2dsalesman.blogspot.com

Spartans VS. Wolverines: And The Other Powerful Debate

By this time, we'd worked our shoe gazin ways up the dues ladder to Wednesday nights at the posh, yet beer-soaked, Rick's American Cafe in East Lansing. I always preferred the E.L Rick's over the Ann Arbor Rick's hands down. For one reason, if something ever fell out of your pocket like some change, a bill or a cigarette cellophane, you would always reclaim it cuz it wasn't going anywhere, not on that carpet.

At the AA Rick's (no pun), no matter how loud you played, you could still hear the chatter over the din. Was it implied that the intellectual capacity was greater there, and that they just had more to say? All the time? No matter what?
Did they feel that because many of them hailed from upstate New York, Vermont or other meccas of Bohemia, Marxist thinking and Saab wagons, that we, the band, were but a mere outsourced boombox?

Well, I'll tell you somethin right now Mister, I shall always and forever be...a Spartan.
They've always seemed to be a much more attendant crowd in E. Lansing. They were always there for us it seemed. Plus I think Wednesdays were like Dollar Night or something.
So what if the mugs never left their mouths, we were being appreciated wether they new it or not.
Kevin was the jolly manager there. We got along pretty well. So well that he would often throw us the opening act bone when a favorite national act was rolling through.
I recall being hot to get on the bill with True West, though I wasn't really familiar with their material. But I'd heard their name being tossed around with other Cali shoot-em-ups like
The Long Ryders and Dream Syndicate, so that was good enough for me. Plus, Kevin never had to pay us shit as openers. Probably another reason we got along.

Credits:
answers.com, who actually obtained their knowledge from
wikipedia.com

And en.wikipedia.org

Above Ground: The Paisley Side Of L.A.

Neil took slow, deliberate steps, with his hands clasped behind his back, past each guitar on what seemed like an eternal guitar rack. Like an army drill Sargent provoking a smirk from a new recruit. Someone from the back, possibly Poncho or maybe Nils jokingly prods;
"How bout the 12-string Rick, whens the last time you strapped on one of those?"
It was enough for him to pause for maybe 5, er10 ticks on the clock, but not long enough for serious consideration. Another step...two steps maybe, and his furry brow lifted just enough for his forehead wrinkles to co-mingle. I'd seen this before. It was subtle but I picked up on it.
There, above and to the left, was a red, 12 string Gretsch. A Fatty. Probably Mike Nesmith's.
He grabs it and stoops down to plug into a tweed Fender Twin and cranks up the jangly dial to just above 6 before the power light is ever ablaze. Funny/weird things, almost sounds like a small dose of Middle Eastern Trippy start eminatin. Outta nowhere, he throws his head back in what looks like some form of euphoric transformation, and begins calling out random Pink Floyd covers as the sloppy groove-masters known as Crazy Horse explode.

That's Rain Parade as I see em and as they've often been described. You could also add the ingredient, British Invasion, and still not be disappointed. They were tossed into the early 80s movement, along with The Bangles, and The Three O'Clock among others, known as The Paisley Underground. If you get a chance, check out "You Are My Friend."

In the 90's, I too belonged to a movement. Known as the "Whatever it is you're doin Pal, it ain't happenin for us" movement. Belonging, it's a wonderful thing.

Of the four of you who read this, one of you may may be curious as to why I chose an image of Susanna Hoffs for a post honoring the Rain Parade? Well...why indeed?

credits:
forum.blu-ray.com
allmusic.com
sa-wa-ro.com

The Dry Monkee

Dolenz, Jones and Tork were infected with enough neurosis to keep the darker, more brooding
Nesmith darker and more brooding.
The lanky Texan's testosterone dial seemed to be at a different setting, which, at the time, translated to me as... just not as funny or maybe, not-as-funny-as would be more appropriate. But I was a young putz at the time so what did I know.

All it takes is some time for a little history to develop to realize the Monkee with the red fatty Gretsch may have had a bit more brewin upstairs than what we had imagined.

A few of Mike Nesmith's more notable accomplishments are:
-Penning the Monkee's She, Mary-Mary ( which was actually a prior hit for the Butterfield Blues Band)( I didn't know they ever had a hit actually) and The Stone Poney's Differrent Drummer.
-Was the executive producer for the film Repo Man.
-Winning the first Video of The Year Grammy for Elephant Parts.
-Many say he's The Father of Country Rawk
-Created the concept for the first all day video program, Pop Clips, which was later sold as MTV
-His signature wool cap was a staple on The Monkees tv show. Why? Though he was hired for his dead-pan demeanor, he wore this cap during his audition not so he would be distinguished from others but because it was what he was wearing to keep his hair out of his eyes while he rode his motorcycle. That's notable isn't it?
-He was paid $450 per episode. That too is notable...isn't it? Or just kinda side-bar interesting?
-Having a mother who created the type-o savior, Liquid Paper. Nuff said there, Right?

The cruise pictured is not your daddy's Catalina. The Monkeemobile was a souped-up, '66 Pontiac GTO ala George Barris. But I can't be sure George Barris had anything to do with its creation other than it being parked in front of his Kustom Shop in North Hollywood.
I suppose I could have/should have done more research on the topic but I have dial-up so please, don't get me going on that or we'll be here all day...much like dial-up.

Finally. Even though Peter Tork played a shit hot, fatty red Gretsch 6073, there was just something about his fly-away hair that always fell back into place no matter what that kinda bugged me a little. My wife's hair is like that too. She could walk out of a hurricane and right into the Bow Tie Bar on Ten Mile, she's that hot!

Credits:
imdb.com
barris.com
monkees.net
videoranch.com

Hoky Pete and Hubba-Hubba

Much, much and even plenty more research was preformed and documented to bring you, the people, the most comprehensive, slightly condensed but giddy peek into the world of
nearly-neked-women in turmoil. Most likely displayed on calendars best kept in the garage, basement or dark place that probably requires a flashlight or candle.

Gil Elvgren not only worked along side, but was also a disciple of Haddon Sundblom at the
Stevens/Gross Studio in Chicago. Elvgren was eventually designated to take over for Sundblom at the end of his tenure in ad work for the House of Coca-Cola. He would then go on to contribute 25 years of landmark, American Realist style illustration for the company.

But Before Gil Elvgren landed in Chicago, he was already a much sought after illustrator producing pinup art for Brown and Bigelow and Louis F. Dow, specialty calendar companies out of St. Paul, Minnesota, the artist's hometown.

Through the years evolved a composite Elvgren Girl: wide set- astonished eyes, pursed lips, prominant forehead, gorgeous hair, pert nose and a pinched waist all wrapped up in a natural state of grace and poise (I'm a stayin away from other elements of the Elvgren Girl, as my wife will forever raise the odd eyebrow, if ya get my meanin'). This ideal was thought to belong to one of Elvgren's most popular models, 1954 beauty queen and MGM studio actress, Myrna Hanson. Other notables who passed through the Elvgren studio doors were Myrna Loy, Donna Reed, Arlene Dahl, Barbara Hale and Kim Novak.

I could easily be persuaded to share more from this incredi-cool cat. Lets just chillax for a spell and see where this goes.

Credits:
coca-cola-art.com
coca-cola.com/coke_lore
gilelvgren.com
antiquesandthearts.com
Pinups/Taschen