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
BILL MESNIK OF THE SPLENDID BOHEMIANS PRESENTS: THE SUNNY SIDE OF MY STREET - SONGS TO MAKE YOU FEEL GOOD - EPISODE #61: I WANNA BE SEDATED by The Ramones (Sire, 1978)
Not to glorify the use of narcotics, or anything, but this is the most joyous celebration of bored nihilism I’ve ever heard. Joey Ramone said he wrote the song when he was stranded in London during Christmastime, with nothing to do and nowhere to go. And, here, the boys are symbolically kicking down the doors of their hotel room and running amok for our pleasure.
These were my contemporaries: they were playing CBGB’s on the Bowery, while I was plying my singer-songwriter hack across town in the West Village. Geographically close, but two different worlds, and I, theatrically trained emoter that I was, missed the whole punk revolution that was brewing right under my nose. Talk about not seeing the forest for the tree! We might have been close in age, and just like me they had been born and bred across the east river - but they were the real deal: dedicated to the rock and roll lifestyle, while I was just visiting.
They’re all dead now - but, man, did they rage against the dying of the light. They immolated themselves, these four similarly named Icaruses, in pursuit of rock immortality. And, they achieved it. And, you can feel that undeniable energy in this romp - their call to arms against banality.
