You gotta give it to them, they might be broke, but at least they’re laughing about it all these years later. I wonder if other bands (some that are operating currently) will have this same sort of attitude in years to come?

Oh, and click on this.

God, how could I forget to include the shorter, yet still hysterical, companion piece to the Jackie Starr tape? I’ve received a few mp3s and CD-Rs in the mail, but anybody that wants to oblige this site with more insanity (or inanity, as the case may be), please get in touch.

Jackie Starr – blah blah blah…

Listen up all you radical, lefty, un-American dirtbags! This here song will set you S-T-R-A-I-G-H-T. 1980’s windbag Wally George bit the big one a few years back, but let’s look back at the GIANT cultural contribution he made in an effort to better us all – "The Wally Rap".

yeah, I’m lookin at you dirtbag!

The greatest thing this wingnut ever produced was his estranged daughter – Rebecca De Mornay. I bet it burned him up good that she showed full beav in Risky Business…

ANYCRAP,  ENJOY! Go Wally, Go Wally!

Wally with another icon Alan Thicke, who is holding THEE very album we’re featuring a bit of here.

The Wally Rap

Back in December, I decided I wasn’t going to do SXSW this year. Too much running around, not enough "having fun", but then I get a call from Bob Mehr asking to be on a panel. Normally, I find the mere thought of attending (let alone participating on) panels just mind-numbingly dull. And SXSW’s aren’t any different. However, the prospect of being on a dais with friends and colleagues was too good to pass up. David Cross, Zach Galifianakis, newly signed Matador artist Andy Earles, Jon Wurster, Tony Kiewel from Sub Pop and myself. Pretty great.

The panel itself I found pretty clunky to start, but it eventually got rolling quite nicely. Zach and David played off each other quite a bit. Andy and I handed notes back to each other. Jon and Tony chimed in when necessary with interesting errata. A few discussion points seemed to leave the comedians and the "indie rockers" (me, Jon and Andy) on opposite sides of the fence. Most significantly, the point I made that indie music fans have a very poor sense of humor seemed to not sit well with David, but I think once I redirected and Andy chimed in, everything seemed to go okay. I was able to give respect to the 80’s zines that paved the way for everything "comedy" that has come from the "indie"/punk/underground scene such as Siltbreeze, Your Flesh, Forced Exposure and, most importantly, Conflict. Ultimately, there were at least a hundred people in the room (none who seemed to leave), but it was also good to know that they weren’t anticipating sets by Zach and David.

Somebody forwarded me a link to a certain reviewer’s take on the panel where she was under the impression that Zach and Cross were going to be doing comedy for her. And, not atypically, she thought Zach was bored when he was (in fact) being funny. Shows you what critics, er, sorry….an alt-weekly blogger, know. However, another blogger (this time from the AV Club) gave a more accurate reflection of the panel. Yes, Josh, I agree.

Cross, Zach, Jon, Andy, Me and Tony…

The Chunklet Invades Party was ridiculous. Teasley gave enough of a report, so I won’t repeat. However, it was a lot of fun and, personally, it was just grand to see Les Savy Fav twice in less than 24 hours. Oh, and Tim rode me across the stage like a horse during one song. God, how could I forget that?!

Reading the few blogs that I do, I was shocked by how homogenized and/or predictable their picks are. Good point of reference: anybody that said The Pipettes were good should be ignored. You can go to the bank on that one.

Apart from Clockcleaner, the band that I’m dumbfounded to not see more people discussing is Monotonix from Tel Aviv, Israel. A standing drummer, a guitarist that could pass for early Royal Trux Neil Haggerty and a front man that would give Tim from the Fav a run for his money. Sweet shit, Monotonix were much more savage and full bore than post punk. I’d call it total rock performance art energy. Most notable during their set: the singer used a cake as a mask (no, I’m not kidding) and then proceeded to destroy anything that wasn’t bolted down in the club. Huh….. Hard to believe the club had the band immediately kicked out after their set.

Monotonix at the Panache showcase….

Other than the panel, and the party, and the shorts we were filming for Superdeluxe, I was able to see a few bands and, more importantly, a few friends. Saturday night, after the Chunklet party ended, Brian Posehn and I hopped a cab with Gooch and the film crew to go see Mastodon at this big stage on the river. Couldn’t get the cameras in (no shock there) so Brian and I went in, saw a little of Against Me! and then ran into Bill from Mastodon and his wife who I both last saw at the Grammies. Before Mastodon went on, I went to buy Posehn a copy of Boris "Pink" (my last purchase for him was Torche‘s s/t which he dug) and we ate brisket tacos in between Brian being hounded for autographs and cell phone photographs. I don’t know how he does it.

Afterwards, we went to the Magnolia and I had my signature meal (1 gingerbread and 1 cornmeal pancake, 2 breakfast tacos with egg, sausage and black beans and a diet coke) and Brian opted for the Shepard’s Pie which was the special of the night. When it arrived, Brian’s smile was very wide. That’s always a good feeling. As Brian said, I’m "always in tour manager mode." So true, Brian……

Brian with his bowl of taters and meat at the Magnolia Cafe, Austin

Hey Fag Hound—I thought I’d give a recap of our South-by-South-Canada experience by eyes and asses of Team Chunklet. I also thought I would write it rather carelessly and not put much effort into it. In case, you didn’t know, this year’s theme was Canada! Instead of sleeve tattoos and Castro hats, the fashion was tattered, two-button, short sleeve shirts (some even surprisingly worn in the medium size as opposed to last years extra small). The ladies preferred the Readymade/Stitch ‘N’ Bitch-style homemade apparel wearing muted-colored ribbons and scarfs made of general lighter fabrics for the hot Austin climate. Everyone looked like extras in some Neutral Milk Hotel video that had never been shot. At least this year every dick-dipped douche bag wasn’t dressed like they were in the MC5 by way of the Mooney Suzuki.

Of course, Henry, Luther, and I once again refused to make peace with the SxSW press staff after having our badges revoked in 2003. We mostly mooched our way in to whatever we waned to do. Thankfully, I fucking hate music and didn’t wait in line to see anything. The Chunklet Invades Austin party was our main deal anyway. A bunch of bands played that I had seen probably 15 times each so I didn’t watch any of them. Mostly, Henry and I ate pizza on the curb and talked about which humans at the festival should be murdered first.

David Cross hosted the first day and there was a 300 deep line to get in. Cult of Indie Personality will get you everything in this world or at least at SxSW. Unfortunately for those of any notable status, one thing unappealing to take in was the pussy–as there was little worth having. I mean homely was the color of my vomit this year. It was all under 25 year old girls high on carbs who would rather be read to than fucked.

The line went around the block for both days. Honest!

Luther filmed Tim from Les Savy Fav and I as rock narcs in Rollin’ Deep skits for Superdeluxe.com-which I was too lazy to look at before hand and had no idea who they were or what they do. I think some of it may have been funny. I planted a bong on stage while the Gossip were playing. Henry was mostly being hounded for free shit or to get someone’s gimp-ass friend into the show so I saw little of him on Saturday.

The second day was the same as the first, minus David Cross and minus Patton Oswalt who had to cancel due to having to film the final episode of Kings and Queens which approximately pays $15,000 — the amount we would have for him to MC the event. Thusly we forgive him for the cancellation. It was hectic for Tim and I to do more filming with Luther due to the fact that between us, we played 12 shows in 2 days. We did try to sell drugs by yelling on 6th St., “Who wants to buy some drugs!”

Worst of all, was that Saturday was also the Frat Boy National Holiday called St. Patrick’s Day so every meathead was stupidly shit-struck drunk and listening to people play god awful, lilting 6/8 rhythms on accordions and other annoying instruments. Worst of worst of all was those droning ass bagpipes which resonated like a bad headache inside an earache. Where is a good potato famine when you need it?

Syd from Les Savy Fav right before their set at Red 7…

Okay, to wrap up. SxSW blew as usual, and it was an absolute waste of time not counting the cool shirts Henry made for the Chunklet staff. No bands broke; it was only old people reforming their glory days, goodtime bands. We did learn Canada would soon invade the US and win. Also, your shitty band went another year  without getting signed. Bad music pervaded every nook of every nook and cranny, and I generally was let down by friends who were suppose to hang out with me. In short, a complete bust of a time. Oh yes, this was my 14th year in a row attending SXSW, so you’re dead right for thinking that I am indeed a complete a fucking moron.

Didja make it to Austin last week? Was it fun? Have you been shuffling around your usual web haunts, looking for a “roundup” to provide a cheat-sheet for your alcohol-besotted memory?

I’m sure Henry will oblige, just as soon as he gets around to it.

What was the shittiest band you saw? If you weren’t there, what was the band with the stupidest name?

Hurry. I haven’t been to a real industry schoomze-fest since college, and I’m feeling left out.

_______ has more of a clue than Stereogum.

Soul singer, underground film maverick and toilet-mouthed preacher Rudy Ray Moore, the best-known purveyor of the oft-sampled Dolemite routine, celebrates his 80th birthday in Kenosha this weekend.

This genius basically created the hip hop mindset and aesthetic. Well, he nicked it from “the beer joint and liquor store wise men,” but the initiative was his. If you don’t think that’s a big deal, I respectfully disagree with you. Next time you rewrite the American vernacular, let me know.

Happy birthday, Rudy Ray Moore. May the merch sales be brisk, and the Chronic royalties flow ever onward.

Rudy Ray Moore – “Shine and the Great Titanic”

And is it a surprise it’s coming to Berkeley? Tix on sale tomorrow, ladies…

"True Colors"
with
Erasure
Cyndi Lauper
Debbie Harry
Dresden Dolls
The Misshapes
Hosted by Margaret Cho

The Greek Theatre
Berkeley, CA, Friday, June 29th

If only the microphone were just a big engorged cock spunking out the rainbow flag…

Oh, and if you didn’t get it yet, the presale password is…

Wait for it…

Rainbow.

Thanks go to Mark W. for this. Absolutely redonk.

Near the middle of the 20th Century, Terry Southern wrote novels, short fiction, and adventurous first-person journalism (before it was New). His work on films such as Human Tornado and Cotton Comes to Harlem made contributions to “black humor” that resonate to this day. If you look really hard at the cover of the Beatles’ White Album, you can make out his face. But Terry Southern is best remembered as a smug motherfucker that had a lot of cool friends, did more drugs than you could ever handle, and got more pussy than you could possibly imagine.

Go ahead. Find a reason to hate him. A lot of his material aged like bananas. He was an incorrigible namedropper. His speed-riddled jazzbo patois was often harder to follow than Treach. He ran out of workable ideas in the ‘70s and mismanaged his career into oblivion. When his head cheerleader Michael “Mr. Mike” O’Donoghue got him a job writing for Saturday Night Live, he never came up with anything memorable. Most of the “conventions” he “challenged” are still here and stronger than ever.

It doesn’t matter. The best times of your righteously indignant punk-rock life are pimples on Terry Southern’s sac. He’s dead, and he’s still having more fun than you. He serves to remind us that the ‘60s were truly a better time, at least in terms of dope and poon.

Terry Southern: Oyster Magnet

Here is the posthumously released Give Me Your Hump! – The Terry Southern Record, with appearances from O’Donoghue, Marianne Faithful, Jonathan Winters, Allen Ginsberg and others. Time has not been particularly kind.

Give Me Your Hump! – The Terry Southern Record
http://chunklet.com/wp-content/uploads/original-site/audio/Terry Southern.zip