Blogga Blogga Hey!

Emily Dickinson - Jew Punk?

noreply@blogger.com (G-D) — Wed, 28 Apr 2010 19:03:00 +0000

I'm giving a reading and talk Thursday, April 29 at Mount Holyoke College. As you may know, MHC is the alma mater of the late, great poet Emily Dickinson. Though neither Jewish nor punk, here's hoping her ghost is in da house.

Info on talk:
http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=111539758882183&ref=mf

A bit of Emily in pre-haunting mode:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nea1OtWrcxk

Top Ten Time

noreply@blogger.com (G-D) — Fri, 16 Apr 2010 21:19:00 +0000

I just posted something along these lines as a comment to a reader, but since I'd be interested in what others might put on their lists, I'm re-posting (that sounds a little like composing, doesn't it?) here for everyone else.

Basically, I'm interested in what your top ten rock 'n' roll reads might be. Here are mine in no particular order:

1. "Rock & Roll Will Save Your Life" -- Steve Almond (the MAN!)

2. "No Irish, No Blacks, No Dogs" -- Johnny Rotten (the other man!)

3."Lipstick Traces" -- Greil Marcus (ok, ok, he's the man too)

4. "Please Kill Me" -- Legs McNeil & Gillian McCain (the man AND the woman)

5. "Elvis" -- Albert Goldman (hate him if you want, but it's a damn fun read and at least as regards Elvis' early recordings, SMART!)

6. "Revolution in the Head" -- Ian MacDonald (an amazing Beatles book)

7. "The Day John Met Paul" -- James O'Donnell (the imagined first meeting of the two based entirely on the factual record)

8. "The True Adventures of the Rolling Stones" -- Stanley Booth (cool and scary)

9. "Beneath the Underdog" -- Charles Mingus (not strictly rock 'n' roll, but the great jazz bassist's autobiography reads like a "Behind the Music" episode as written by Shakespeare.)

10. "Powerhouse" -- Eudora Welty (again, not strictly rock, but this short story about a blues organ player has one of the best evocations of music in words I've read anywhere. Great stuff!)

Oh, and one more has to be squeezed in:

11. "Chronicles" -- Bob Dylan (you've heard of him, right?)

Ok, I'm sure there are others, but these are the first that leap to mind.

Your turn!

Rock And Roll DID Save My Life!

noreply@blogger.com (G-D) — Mon, 29 Mar 2010 15:59:00 +0000

It's been over a week since my reading with Steve Almond and I still feel the power of his feedback-filled testament.

Steve's Rock And Roll Will Save Your Life is a stage dive into the mosh pit of hysteria, a hysterical version of A Fan's Notes written for the Teenage Fan Club set. Like the sports-lover in Exley's novel, Steve identifies with the drooling, desperate fans, realizing that despite their nasty skin conditions and even worse social skills, they still get closer to the music than the distant stars they watch.

Let me explain.

One of the greatest things about rock and roll is that it offers a Backstage Pass to bliss. Those same grease monkeys who perform lube jobs can also crank out garage rock, giving us all a spiritual oil change and firing our pistons before we head out on the highway. They may end up one-hit wonders not leading lives of inspiration, but they provide us with moments, their confabs with the spirits in the sky pushing us to move our hips and bite our lips and mouth words silently under our ear-buds till we perhaps scream Satis-FAK-tion!

Add up those moments and you start to get something damn important. A big heaping slab of the people’s words made as eloquent as a lover’s cry when the senses go guitar-crazy and reach for the stars and the high frets.

Do it, do it, do it till you're satisfied, whatever it is...

But wait, that's disco! Maybe I need another rock and roll injection. Join me in the shooting gallery of shooting the shit with the rawk writers like Almond, that fanatical fan's fan and the current fave on my literary play list.

Reading with Steve Almond

noreply@blogger.com (G-D) — Mon, 15 Mar 2010 17:29:00 +0000

I'll be reading with the super-funny, super-cool, all round super-duper Steve Almond this Thursday. The occasion is the release of Almond's book, Rock And Roll Will Save Your Life. I, as the opening act, will be doing my Heebie-Jeebies at CBGB's thang. In other words, it will be a literary battle of the bands with the two Steves going line to line, comma to comma to see who will be King of the Rawk Writers.

The event begins at 7:00 P.M. at the New England Institute of Art in Brookline Village (see poster). More info on Steve's book at: http://www.stevenalmond.com/index.html?utm_source=Masthead

More on film

noreply@blogger.com (G-D) — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 03:47:00 +0000

I realized in my previous post that I didn't actually tell you about the folks trying to make the "The Heebie-Jeebies at CBGB's" film.

You can get all the info you need right here:

http://zookmann.com/

A Call to Arms

noreply@blogger.com (G-D) — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 16:25:00 +0000

Hi Everyone,

A while back I mentioned that "The Heebie-Jeebies at CBGB's" was going to be turned into a film. Well, here's an update -- and a call to arms.

The idea for this film is to make it more than a straight-ahead documentary. The frame for the picture will be my own quest to put together a Jewish-Punk reunion, and in doing so to relate the story of my own behind the scenes adventures in creating the original book. There will of course be lots of info about and great music clips of the Jew-Punks in action, but there will also be the outrageous and up to this point unrevealed stories from my own misadventures with the legends I wrote about. For instance, I will reveal how Richard Hell promised to "kill me" -- a fact that has led to my current book in the works, a faux mystery titled, "Please Don't Kill Me, Richard Hell."

Now, here's the awkward part. While the folks creating the film itself are super-enthusiastic and even more super-talented, they are--like the rest of us--not exactly rolling in bucks. So, I've decided to send out an appeal here to all of you in JewPunk land. If you're interested in seeing this film made and think that you or someone you know might be interested in helping make it financially possible, just say. Doesn't have to be a major donation, since every little bit helps. But if it's significant enough, we can talk about including you as one of the producers and hence one of those who actually sees some windfall from the project. If nothing else, you'll definitely be name-checked in celluloid and able to write off a chunk of your taxes as well.

Ok, enough about that. I don't want to feel as if I'm pressuring anyone. Just letting you know where things currently stand.

Oh yes, if you want to contact me directly rather than through the comments page, you can write me at slbeeber@comcast.net

Gabba gabba chey,

Online & On the Air

noreply@blogger.com (G-D) — Wed, 20 Jan 2010 14:54:00 +0000

If you're anywhere in the Santa Cruz area tonight at 7 p.m. (10 p.m. EST), tune into The Great Leap Forward on Santa Cruz Free Radio. I'll be talking about spirituality and punk.

Or if you're more in the mood to read, check out the following review on barnesandnoble.com. An interesting take on the Catholic contributions to punk -- and it name checks "Heebie-Jeebies".

A First Class Revolution

noreply@blogger.com (G-D) — Tue, 12 Jan 2010 03:39:00 +0000

In the spirit of the season, I made for family and friends this past December, going as far as Minneapolis in the dead of winter. Of course, when my plane was set to take off, I was told that I would end up stuck in Chicago for 36 hours, waiting for a connector that had been grounded due to a blizzard. Faced with the choice of either hanging out in O'Hare Airport Christmas Eve or going back home to sip eggnog and re-spin my dredel, I went with the latter.

Imagine my surprise then the next day when I returned for my rescheduled flight only to find I'd been bumped to first class. I can only assume that the very kind woman who bumped me from my original flight took pity on me and decided I should be raised a few steps in the social hierarchy, because if you know anything about me, you know I'm not exactly the first class sort. Or at least not in the button-down, formal suit, checking my IPhone for business texts sense. I mean, sure I'm a first-rate boychick ready to run rampaging through the village green with a leather strap in my teeth and a song on my lips. Sure I'm right up there with the brightest of these dimming United States, all those best minds splattered like potato salad on the asylum walls, screaming "Kaddish" while Ray Charles shouts blind on the stereo. Sure I'm first in line when it comes to posing the unpleasant questions, like what's the meaning of life, why are there still those who are poor, and which way do I go to find the rest room kind sir? Sure sure, you know all of this about me, and if you don't know it, it's time you do. I'm first in all things first and foremost, at least so long as they concern the big C's of Culture, Conscience and Cross Buns Nicely Toasted.

But when it comes to first class in the airplane sense? Hell no! I'm ready for that revolution in aviation when the proletariat of the economy seats rises up to demand free drinks and salty snacks alike, no longer willing to pay through the nose for a vodka tonic and a bag of peanuts.

Till then, of course, I will make do as best I can. And in this case making do meant making myself sit up there with the other Aristocrats, and drinking the free drinks and accepting (quite graciously if I say so myself) all the salty snacks I could snatch. In fact, I so made do that by the time I landed I was feeling a bit smiley and charitable to my oppressors and self-conscious betters, bestowing on them the tonic smiles of someone as refreshed as if he'd had a Vodka Colonic.

But here's the thing. I mean, I hate to grouse seeing as I'm ready for the revolution and all, but considering this was supposedly first class, I have to say I was a bit disappointed. After all, way back in the '90s, I was also once bumped up to first class, this time on a Virgin Airlines flight to England in the cool early days when Richard Branson was still offering amenities like eight music channels, at least half of them as good as anything found on college radio (I remember discovering Elastica that night, for instance). But I'm getting away from the main point (music has a way of doing that to me), the main point being that during that eight-hour flight, I was treated to one of the finest first class experiences I have ever come across in my years of hoping and praying to be bumped up to first class. Because, you see, on Virgin that night they not only doted on me like the President on Airforce One, they did so in a cooing, soothing manner that was aided and abetted mightily by their wonderful accents -- and their even more wonderful snacks: Fiddle Faddle followed by Brie, and Brie followed by sliced apples and wine; then custard pie and Ben & Jerry's ice cream, a paracetamol for my tum tum when it all became too much. And all the while all the drinks I could imbibe. But wait, hold on, I haven't even gotten to the best part yet. Because best of all, by far and away, was what they did with my nuts. Yes, they warmed them up. A bowl of mixed nuts as toasty warm as ... well, toast would have been had the foodstuffs been switched. Hot nuts. And fazed cookies. And me grinning idiotically over my seventh Jim Beam, thinking myself pretty clever for having avoided making a stupid remark about them warming my nuts (clearly, having done so here proves that we don't always get better as we get older. Just cornier.)

Ok, that's a bit of a downer to end on. So instead, consider this. While my first class experience on United Airways this past XMass consisted merely of free drinks and a single "snack box" of crackers, cheese spread, cheap cookies and "gourmet" potato chips, it was repeated twice in the course of my trip. That's right, when I got on my connecting flight in Chicago, I was pleased as punch to find that I was back in first class again. In other words, even though the same situation was in place (a single snack box filled with items not all that snackable), I did at least get to fill up in the end, the two meager offerings together forming a single sufficient one. It kind of reminds me of the old joke about the two Jewish ladies in the Catskills complaining about the food. "It's so tasteless and dry," says one to the other. "Yes," answers the first. "And such small portions."

Joey, as in Ramone

noreply@blogger.com (G-D) — Sat, 26 Dec 2009 19:27:00 +0000

In the spirit of the season, remember WWJD -- What Would Joey Do?

Merry XMass, punk!

noreply@blogger.com (G-D) — Sat, 26 Dec 2009 19:13:00 +0000

Happy Holidays to one and all. We're ecumenical here at JewPunk Industries, so our hearty best wishes to revelers here and around the world.

Speaking of revels, I am now in Minneapolis where I got to fly first-class because I'd been bumped from my original flight. This happened once before many years back on a transcontinental flight to the UK. Free drinks, gourmet cheeses, a cushy chair and they even warmed up my nuts (my nut mixture, for Christ's sake. Grow up!) Not this time, though. While I still got the round of free drinks (praise God!) my "snack box" was sub par, to say the least. A bag of chips, some miniature cookies, pre-fab cheese spread and some crackers to slather it on ... not exactly the sort of thing to warm up your nuts (ok, I'm being the immature one now. So sue me!)

In any case, I made it, flaming hips of attempted terrorists aside. I'm now ensconced in a blow-up bed that shares space with non-stop video games played by non-stop kids. Dig those crazy sound effects.

One last thing. It seems an interview I did recently has been posted on the blog Our Stage. Check it out at:

http://blog.ourstage.com/2009/12/25/punk-on-the-rocks-qa-with-steven-lee-beeber/

Space-Time Discontinuum

noreply@blogger.com (G-D) — Tue, 22 Dec 2009 15:41:00 +0000

For those of you looking for updates, I just posted one, but it appears further back in this blog -- on 7/26/09 to be exact.

I guess I've slipped into another dimension. Oh well.

Roll Out the Roller Derby

noreply@blogger.com (G-D) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 19:23:00 +0000

Yes, we had us a barrel of fun down at the dear ol derby the other night. It was the Nutcrackers vs. the Cosmonaughties and our heads were spinning faster than Linda Blair's in our efforts to keep up with the game and our own excitement. I've got to hand it to the Boston Derby Dames and especially the Nutcrackers. Not only did they put on a damn good show, they showed everyone that girls can play as well (and rough!) as boys. I can promise you I'll never throw my hat in that ring. Not unless I'm wearing full body armor along with it.

With that said, I'll gladly attend another after party, because this one was as kick ass as the derby itself. Perhaps it's something about being dressed in a tiara and knee pads (not me, but one of the Dames ... and I'm sticking with that story!), but the dance floor moves to be seen were worth the price of admission. Muscle, music and mayhem were the alliterative words of the day, and I couldn't help but picture that old perv Robert Crumb getting up to boogie himself. Ok, ok, so it's not a pretty picture to share, I'm sorry. Better yet, let me leave you with this. Seeing as the after party took place at the Fez Room in the Wilmington Shriner's Auditorium, I also imagined those guys in the little cars buzzing around us. Not exactly the Derby Dames, but definitely good for a laugh.

Ostrogoths, Visigoths and Yudengoths?

noreply@blogger.com (G-D) — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 19:52:00 +0000

Remember last year when I went up to Hibbing to visit the birthplace of Bobby Z (Dylan)? Well, this year's trip to Minnesota (henceforth known as Upper Germania) didn't take me that far, but I did at least get to the see the Nordic Inn B&B (Bed & Brew). Informally known as The Viking Inn, the Nordic has a kind of rape and pillage theme -- or, wait, make that a "raid" and pillage theme, today's Vikings as prone to being PC as anyone. In any case, the theme is there in essence, with great horn-bearing helmets and fur-coated shields and leather armbands free for the wearing. There are also medieval shoe-like strappings for the feet, which are not optional, but mandatory, much in the style of those households that demand you remove your Doc Martins before you trod over their shag carpets and throw rugs. Best of all, though, is the proprietor of the Inn, Steinaar, a round-stomached, barrel-chested, stain-covered direct descendant of Ostrogoth (or is that Visigoth?) warriors. As Steinaar explained, the "aar" at the end of his name denotes warrior; and since Stein is a stein glass used for drinking beer, you can put the rest together yourself. Over a stein of Sam Adams and a smaller stein of homemade mead (the less said about, the better), Steinaar traded quips with us, most of which concerned his various orifices and appendages (that's right, plural). Since he demanded that we take names as well, I dubbed myself Crowbaar, later changing that to Wetbaar, while Tracey went for a variation on her last name and became Starkaar, though it turned out she could just as well have stuck with Stark since it's basically of Viking, or at least Germanic, origin. Anyway, as I was saying, the Inn was run on a theme, right down to the rooms themselves, ours being Odin's Loft, which not only had a hot tub and the classic Kirk Douglas/Tony Curtis film The Vikings, but also a bed shaped like a Viking ship. All night I tossed and turned, dreaming of fair-haired maidens and cheeks of red, the fjords pushing me on to ever greater adventures, until finally I found myself on the great plains of Greenland, only a hop, skip and jump from these blessed United States (which is most likely where I would have ended up had Steinaar's wake-up call not interrupted me; my apologies to the Sons of Columbus.) All in all, a fine time and a worthy lead up to our conquest of Chicago where the Heebie-Jeebies did its Viking-like thing and turned the unsuspecting populace into a quivering mass of acceptance before we departed. Now if only I could find my own Jewish-Viking lineage. If anyone has any leads, just let me know.

http://www.vikinginn.com/

The Professors Like My Looks

noreply@blogger.com (G-D) — Mon, 27 Jul 2009 18:09:00 +0000

Yes, that's right. Though I may be no Thin Man, the academically inclined of Germany are planning to meet in April to talk about my book. Will they invite lepers and crooks? And have they read all Fitzgerald's works? I don't know, but I'm pleased as punch, regardless. Bob Dylan eat your heart out

http://www.aviva-berlin.de/aviv /content_Juedisches%20Leben_Veranstaltungen.php?id=1425308

The shpilkes of punk

noreply@blogger.com (G-D) — Sun, 26 Jul 2009 20:09:00 +0000

Just looking through my old posts and noticed this one has sat in draft form on my computer without actually being visible to your eyes.

ignoblus, for the moment: The shpilkes of punk

I've got lots of similar stuff that I've never posted, mainly because the majority predates this blog.

So, if you'd like to see praise from both Vanity Fair and NPR--not to mention from Neo-Nazis and Islamic extremists--just say and I'll include it. But be forewarned: the Neo-Nazis and Islamic extremists also often condemn me. Go figure.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

noreply@blogger.com (G-D) — Sat, 25 Jul 2009 16:19:00 +0000

Hi there Jew-Punk People,

So it's been an odd week. On the upside, papers from the NYTimes to the Forward to Haaretz in Israel have been talking up "Heebie-Jeebies at CBGB's." On the less than upside, however, there has been buzzing in the usual crank corners from Neo-Nazis, anti-Zionists and whoever else it is that hates Jews these days. I'll include a couple of links below, but before I do, one last good thing. Seems I'm going to be reading at The Book Cellar in Chicago on Thursday, August 20. Anyone in the Great Lakes region, or anyone at all who feels like chartering a Lear jet for the day, should head on out there and see me do my Heebie-Jeebies-Thang. Ok, here's the link for the reading, followed by a couple of others:

http://www.bookcellarinc.com/calendar/calendar.php?mode=flyer&date=2009-08-01&PHPSESSID=884715f37e1c96db76d5d0947826dd7a

http://thisiszionism.blogspot.com/

http://www.stormfront.org/forum/showthread.php?t=622827&highlight=punk

http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/spages/1101800.html

You never call, you never write

noreply@blogger.com (G-D) — Wed, 22 Jul 2009 21:00:00 +0000

I've noticed something odd about blogging. Though you type your little fingers to the bone and spit out posts like valentines to the many, often it's like doing so beneath a bell jar. The echoing of your own heart beating in anticipation of replies is deafening, yet those replies often go the way of messages in a bottle. In other words, they're out there, they're not out there, who can say. It's all mystery and silence and the great question mark in the sky. Does anyone read this thing? If so, do they enjoy it? If not, would they bother to tell me this? And whatever the answer, should I just stop it and spend my time on more productive matters, like, say, cleaning out my refrigerator crisper?

No, I say! Never!! And not just because my crisper frightens me to no end (what in god's name is that fuzzy substance surrounding that vegetable matter?) I won't stop because to do so would be wrong. You are my virtual friends (as opposed to my "real" ones in the "real world".) You are the eyes and ears of Jew-Punk Ascendant. And I refuse to let you down. After all, what else would I do with my nervous fingers, these playthings of the devil? Best to write. And type. And scribble. It keeps me off the streets and in the coffee shops. And as a result it has the extra benefit of keeping my fish-belly-white skin snowy and fresh. No melanomas for me, no sirree.

Ok, enough of that. Just wanted to shout out a bit of guilt at ya. I'm sure that you can take it!

Oh, wait, one last thing. Turns out The Heebie-Jeebies... has been spotted yet again in Israel. This time in the more liberal of the two major papers. Check it out at the following link.

http://haaretz.com/hasen/spages/1101800.html

Till next time, Shalom Ya'll,

s

Sacha Baron Cohen, Tina Fey and "The Heebie-Jeebies at CBGB's"

noreply@blogger.com (G-D) — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 20:01:00 +0000

Hi Everyone,

Big news.

First, I would like to announce that production is imminent on a documentary based on "The Heebie-Jeebies at CBGB's." Can't say anymore for now, but stay tuned for updates.

Second, also imminent is a feature film starring Sacha Baron Cohen as a Jewish Punk Rocker. "The Adventures of Curly Oxide and Vic Thrill" is written by Tina Fey (!!!) and has a tentative release date of 2011.

I guess the only question now is which film will get the Oscar in the Jewish Punk category. And the envelope, please...

s

Punk Rock's Secret, Semitic History -- Forward.com

noreply@blogger.com (G-D) — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 14:46:00 +0000

Never mind the garbled look of the link below, it works.

Punk RockÃ¢Â€Â™s Secret, Semitic History Ã¢Â€Â“ Forward.com

Shared via AddThis

Jew-Punk Anschluss

noreply@blogger.com (G-D) — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 16:12:00 +0000

From the Ministry of Propaganda:

The Jew-Punk armies are continuing their march over greater Germania.

This weekend, Doris Akrap--translator of "The Heebie-Jeebies at CBGB's"--will be reading from "Die Heebie Jeebies im CBGB's" at the Left Book Festival in Berlin.

And, last March, Frau Akrap did the same at the Underground Library in Vienna.

Clearly, the hills are alive with the sound of Jew-Punk. And tomorrow belongs to us!

America Looks Up, Goes "Ahhhh"

noreply@blogger.com (G-D) — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 17:12:00 +0000

That's right, the Fourth of July brought us the usual fiery display, all spiderwebbery skeins of sparkle glory.

Being the proud American that I am, I found a seat on Mass Ave, propped a Jameson's on my knee and proceeded to make yummy noises along with the assembled crowd.

"Ewwww," I went, as the kids behind me sang Neil Diamond (ironically, of course.)

"Ahhhhh," I continued, as the five-year-olds in front ran wild beneath their parents eyes.

"Ohhhhh," we all sighed as the final display kicked out the jams, reds, whites and blues mixing with oranges, yellows and greens that were meant to look jewel-like, but were more Starburst (the candy) seeming than anything.

Still, hard to look down on a sky filled with fire, man-made or otherwise.

Now if only we could get rid of that horrid anthem! "America the Beautiful," anyone?

p.s. Votes also accepted for "This Land is Your Land."

Sign of the Apocalypse

noreply@blogger.com (G-D) — Sat, 04 Jul 2009 21:11:00 +0000

Alert the neighbors!

Call the folks!!

Wake the dog!!!

A hot gaseous orb has appeared in the skies of Boston!

Be afraid, be very afraid.

Cannonball Heard Round the World

noreply@blogger.com (G-D) — Fri, 03 Jul 2009 21:01:00 +0000

Can I just state for the record how much I love The Breeders song "Cannonball"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7AsId-qVIb4

Vive la revolution!

Iggy and Heebie invade Holy Lemonland

noreply@blogger.com (G-D) — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 20:52:00 +0000

During the past couple of weeks, one JewPunk sighting and one JewPunk citing.

The citing: Heebie-Jeebies at CBGB's in The Jerusalem Post.

The sighting: Beeber Does Iggy in LEMON magazine.

Stay tuned for angry letters to the editors!

Jew Punk Time in New York Times

noreply@blogger.com (G-D) — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 01:58:00 +0000

For those of you who didn't make it to "Loud Fast Jews" at YIVO the other night, no need to worry. Turns out the New York Times was there -- and that they were namedropping "Heebie-Jeebies at CBGB's" like nobody's business.

Seriously, it's a funny and interesting article and I'm thrilled to see my book was mentioned in it. Check it out for yourselves:

"Punk, and Jewish: Rockers Explore Identity"

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/06/13/nyregion/13punk.html