DIG THIS WITH BILL MESNIK AND RICH BUCKLAND- THE SPLENDID BOHEMIANS
My Fellow Americans, Life is actually just a microscopic, deluded moment in time, so let's cut to the freakin' chase. One look at our impending election debacle can solidify my case. It has been my contention since birth, that the answer to every difficulty we encounter on this sacred yet demented Stone, can be revealed with ultimate clarity through the ultra neurotic engagements of Music, Art, Literature, Film, Poetry and a good Pastrami sandwich. Why would any sane human spend so must time on a film set (Do you know how long you gotta wait until your 8 second deliverance of an edited beyond repair line gets a chance to become a professional embarrassment etched in time forever? ) or expend so much energy in a recording studio, piecing together another ode to a man or woman who could not care less how much love existed within your digestive tract? It's all about hymns and prayers and a quest for mercy and forgiveness and silence and faith. We were blessed with Charles Bukowski, Gene Chandler, Lenny Bruce, Mitch Ryder and a legion of creative explorers whose influences provided the air we breathe. So Let's Dance! This site shall explore the reaper, find a way to disarm the stench of injustice, discover some true loves and talk it all over before it's all over. So what's the worst that our desires could produce? Failure? So sue me. I'm going to require your assistance in making as much trouble for the grown-ups as possible. Let the record show that my childish heart yearns to disrupt the madness. Join me Ladies and Germs!
With Gratitude For Gena Rowlands, Nancy Sinatra, Jerry Quarry, Leo Gorcey, Arthur Alexander and Joey Heatherton, Your Splendid Bohemian, Rich Buckland.
DIG THIS WITH BILL MESNIK AND RICH BUCKLAND- THE SPLENDID BOHEMIANS
THE SPLENDID BOHEMIANS PRESENT "DOUBLE TROUBLE" - SOCIAL CRITICISM, OR I HATE PEOPLE, WITH FRANK ZAPPA AND WARREN ZEVON. DOUBLE DOWN!!
We got a couple of world-class curmudgeons here - who share more than might meet the ear initially: two native Californians renown for their curdled opinion of the world they inhabit, and the populace with whom they share the space; We’re talking Hollywood, specifically, but their bile was generous enough to accommodate the whole of humanity - in all its corrupt, hypocritical manifestations; both lost too early - victims of cancer’s cruelty; both musical geniuses with solid classical training and rock n roll credentials; and, funny? Goddamn right, they were!
Frank Zappa and Warren Zevon, two outlaws who could not be silenced or ignored are being celebrated here today. It should be noted that Frank was inducted posthumously into the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame; Warren is still owed his due.
FRANK ZAPPA
The man loved freaks, and had to create his own label to promote them. From the time he appeared on the Steve Allen show in the early 60’s, playing the bicycle, to the early 90’s, when he visited Czech Republic as an honored guest to the President, playwright-turned politician, Vaclav Havel after their Velvet Revolution, and throughout his vociferous fight against censorship in the halls of our Congress, Frank always stood strong for freedom of expression, and against hypocrisy.
In “Plastic People” from his second album ABSOLUTELY FREE, you can hear so many elements mixed together that have become tropes: the abrupt changes in tempo and mood, the stinging social satire, the weird orchestration, the rock n roll name checks…. Good stuff!
WARREN ZEVON
We always knew that Warren was tortured by demons. He struggled with his alcoholism for a long time and was subject to depression. But, despite it all he kept his unique humorous perspective. And, with a prodigious gift for melody, he wrote some of pop’s most haunting ballads. He was, to borrow the words of Kris Kristofferson, a “walking contradiction” who could go to the darkest of dark sides, like in his rockers about serial killers, such as Excitable Boy and Werewolves of London - then, swing 180 degrees to express wrenching heartbreak in such timeless elegies as Hasten Down the Wind and Carmelita.
In Splendid Isolation you get both - the swinging of the hips, and the stinging of the poisoned barb. It has an autobiographical persuasion which illuminates the soul of a man who longs to be left alone - the world is just too fucked up to navigate. There’s a bitter sadness articulated, but its flavored with that ever-present Zevon wit.
