I have long contended that one of the greatest singers in pop history is The Monkees’ Micky Dolenz. He’s not only amazingly versatile, with a distinctive voice that is equally at home singing rock, jazz (the man can scat like he was born to it), or ballads, but even when singing backup, he rises above, imbuing each note with personality. His harmonies are tight. Always.
I could go on and on again about how important Vinegar Syndrome is to cinema but I’ll refrain . . . for now. Instead, I’m going to attempt to explain the awesome and completely nutty Raw Force. I first saw this film about a year and a half ago and didn’t know what to say. It has everything that I want in old cheesy B-movies: comedy, action, boobs, karate, rocket launchers, zombies, weird parties, horrendous acting, people breaking ice with their faces. (Seriously, a dude breaks a block of ice with his face, but it isn’t for show; it is actually to get ice for a drink he is making for someone. I shit you not on this.)
Today I watched John Holmes’s penis get bitten by a vampire. What did you do today?
In the ‘70s and ‘80s many pornographic filmmakers made pornos with stories. Whether it was action, horror, or comedy, there was usually a genre represented by more story and less sexy time. As a horror enthusiast, I get excited more ways than one when the porno has horror elements and Dracula Sucks has more horror than porno. . . and it is freaking weird.
Full disclosure: I have no idea how to review the new, incredibly comprehensive, fully-remastered, nine-disc Monty Python box set, Monty Python’s Total Rubbish: The Complete Collection. I, like any good misfit worth her salt, went through a rather serious Monty Python phase while in high school, and spent every weekend watching Monty Python’s Flying Circus with my best pal Lori (and arguing over who was cuter, Michael Palin or Eric Idle. The answer was yes), imitating the sketches, knotting handkerchiefs for our heads, and being fully immersed in Pythonalia. I have no objectivity when it comes to Monty Python. I love them. Full on. I learned more about world history from Monty Python than I did in high school (of course, if it had been taught in funny voices, I might’ve paid more attention).
When I received Vinegar Syndrome’s recent release of Prisoner Of Paradise I asked myself, “Do I bring The Boozer Reviewer back?” Then I saw it was a big budget X-rated war epic, falling under the Nazisploitation subgenre. . . and it starred John Holmes. I knew then I needed to watch this without any alcohol.
Man, I wish I was intoxicated when I watched this.
StageFright was a classic when I originally saw it back in the ‘90s. At that time I knew it as Bloody Bird, but a little while later I acquired a VHS copy with the title StageFright: Aquarius. I imagine this was confusing for some in the days before the Internet. I think the distributors knew this so they made StageFright one word. Honestly, it doesn’t matter but I find it funny. It’s even funnier since Jerome Sable’s Stage Fright was released earlier this year.
Todd Rundgren’s music has always been an acquired taste. His chart hits have felt like flukes, strange cracks in the system. You aren’t supposed to know who Todd Rundgren is. He leads a cult that resides so far underground, they may as well be Morlocks.
One of the reasons for this status is Rundgren’s musical twitchiness. He jumps from style to style, from Philly white-boy blues to synth-pop, from down and dirty rock and roll to salsa. Never knowing what he’ll do next is exciting for some, laborious for others.
In the late Seventies, Rundgren formed a band called Utopia. It was designed to be his big foray into progressive rock, exploring grand concepts and incorporating deep philosophical lyrics. As it gradually shrank from seven members to four, Utopia became one of the sharpest New Wave bands of its time, delivering perfect three-minute pop songs, deliciously textured with soaring, shifting harmonies.
Back in the day Troma purchased a lot of films from different companies who were going out of business to build up their catalogue. Yes, Troma’s name is all over the old DVD and their logo is on the back on this Blu-Ray but Troma didn’t have anything to do with the making of the film. I only say this because the streak that Troma has isn’t a very good one. Luckily. we have Vinegar Syndrome who is going through Troma’s catalogue and pulling the good flicks out of the depths of their toilet and giving them a proper release.
By Cait Brennan
Scott Miller wrote and sang some of the most innovative, intelligent, moving indie pop of the past three decades. For years, though, the Game Theory catalog has been impossible to hear, keeping the work of this essential artist out of reach of all but the most devoted fans. Miller’s tragic passing in April 2013 galvanized efforts to change that, and America’s finest reissue label rode to the rescue. At long last, 1982’s Blaze Of Glory is back, with a bevy of bonus goodies, and it’s a harbinger of even bigger things to come.
Rat movies seem to sprout up every once in a while over the years. I’m pretty sure none of them have been big successes but they are always fun in a cheesy way. Seriously, rats are the things that are killing people? Just fucking run away! Unless you are dealing with humungous rats, I’m sure this wouldn’t really pose a problem.