Punk Rock Doo-Wop at the violin shop. I reccomend using HEADPHONES
first song I remember singing is Michelle by the Beatles to get my baby sister to sleep
my first memory I have is of rampaging through my parents apartment when everone was asleep and tearing all the tape out of my father’s eight-tracks until I was lost in a pile of shiny brown film and plastic.Grew up in the town of Nazareth PA, birthplace of some of the finest acoustic guitars in the world, and name-checked in the Band song "The Weight"
"Pulled into Nazareth was feeling ’bout a half past dead"Grandfather Ray was a jazz trombonist as a young man and always had big band swing playing on a radio in the kitchen. He collected rare gems and minerals and old vinyl records. At my eighth birthday party he gave me a walkman with collapsible headphones, and my life was forever changed. I spent hours alone in my room tuning in obscure frequencies and listening to the Saturday morning cartoons that were simulcast from a Philadelphia television station. I remember hearing The Velvet Underground for the first time on those headphones. Listening to the cast recording of Mary Poppins until I memorized every word. Elvis, The Muppets.
HEAR the record, READ the book and when Tinkerbell rings her bell, turn the page.Across the county line in Bushkill, PA, Grandfather Art had given up his ambitions to become a country singer when he remarried and decided to dedicate his life to Christ. Family legend maintains that he was offerered a recording contract at one point but that his wife put her foot down and said "It’s music or me, fame or Jesus. Walk out that door and back into the bars and you’ll never see me again."Apparently, when my parents were having their custody batles, it was he and his wife who looked after me, singing gentle gospel lullabyes while I swayed in the crib and buying for me my first pair of baby shoes. Sadly, he died before I ever got the chance to go east to meet him.At the age of ten I began to get fed up with only being a fan and decided to try my hand at inventions of my own, so I spent hours with a cup full of colored pencils designing my own superheros, mostly childlike emulations of GI Joe and DC characters. Like the Mongoose, who got his powers from bumping into the electified fence that bordered a top secret research facility.At some point, my dad bought me a big, black sturdy tape recorder with a handle and I would make radio plays, perform dramatic readings of Edgar Allan Poe stories (with electric guitar spliced in to enhance the mood), and try to hypnotise myself with slow trancelike messages played over and over again. The code word to bring me out should the trance go too deep? "Elvis."I had a View-Master projector toy that could beam slides onto the wall and I would show scary old fairy tales to my sisters, scaring them out of their wits with creepy voices and unearthly sounds. There was a ventriliquist dummy named Harry, an enormous collection of National Geographic magazines (including the one detailng Sir Edmund Hilary’s conquering of Everest), and scratch and sniff stickers. Children of the 80s collected smells, old skateboard wheels and blinking colored video game lights.I ran away from home at 17 and hitchhiked to Woodstock 94, strode right through the gates and into all that mud sweat and people and over the edge into adventure. Held a beautiful Canadian girl in a tent, shivering, asleep, made shoes out of plastic bags in order to be allowed onto a greyhound bus, and panhandled for slices of pizza in the Port Authority bus station in Manhattan.Flipped out completely two weeks later upon my return to Pennsylvania. Met Neil Young- it left me speechless- started listening to Nirvana and big band jazz obsessively. Mental fragilty plagued me at this time but I started hanging out with dark, music obsessed kids and sliding deep into a drug induced cocoon of ink and black and white, Linus and the Great Pumpkin, warm fall wind and white church hallways.Took acid and watched history unfold on the backs of my eyelids, cilvilizations rise up and get swept away in oceans of blood, a black girl beside me flicker once and shift into a lizard, memories, dreams and pictograms writhing and burning in my mind all night long. Ate an apple only to watch the flesh grow back onto it, and then the apple became a bit and the bit stuck in my mouth, hard like a bit in a horses mouth, but I took it strongly and powerfully and rode it on through the dust into the morning.When my grandmother Irene, God rest her soul, died and left me a bit of money, I went down to Asheville, North Carolina and bought my Guitar Lita. Since then she has taken me all over the country, from Montana to Idaho, to California and the Pacific sea. And that’s my story.
JOE BOB BRIGGS, HERO OF THE AMERICAN DRIVE-IN
One night the trance went too deep.
BIRD, BIRD, STRUMMING SKINTERRESTRIAL
AFTERSEXUAL SKINTELLECTUAL
AFTERSCHOOL MINIATURE SKELETON STRETCHABLES
PATCHWORK REUSABLE SOLAR COLECTORS,
and amber insectoid immersion invectors
ELVIS, ELVIS
ELVIS IN ALL DIRECTIONS
ELVIS ALEITHIOMETER
ANTARCTIC ELVIS
Gone like a real gone cat.
ORNITHOLOGICAL ELVIS
ELVIS INCONGRUOUS
UMBILICAL ELVIS
Elvis breaks all records and can melt through any substance
ELVIS is EGYPT
and Egypt, ELVIS
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