Candy Darling

Beautiful Candy Darling

Los Angeles’ Downtown Independent screened the LA premier of “Beautiful Darling” a documentary biopic about Candy Darling. It was a night of super stars. A dead one on screen and the last real living Warhol super star, Holly Woodland was in the audience.

The film is a story of obsession and impression; a study of illusion and delusion.  Candy Darling nee James Slattery was one of Andy Warhol’s “superstars” along with Jackie Curtis and Holly Wood land they were the gender bending triumvirate. Candy was the blonde channeling Kim Novak and Marilyn Monroe.  Could she act? It is hard to say yes and hard to say no. Candy’s biggest role was Candy.  Through archival photos, film footage and interviews with contemporaries a picture of who Candy was emerges.  She lived a life of glamour in a ghetto accepting handouts from Warhol who made money off of her while eventually throwing her and all the superstars away. In Beautiful Darling it is said “Warhol threw people away the way one tosses out tissues, use them and then they’re done”.  Candy lived a marginal existence crashing on sofas in borrowed clothes while Warhol lived in lavish style.  All this same time Candy was a warrior of sorts.  She was part of a new generation of gender benders that took it further than anyone had so far.  They were superstars. Candy, Holly and Jackie thanks to Lou Reed will forever be enshrined in popular culture through “Walk on the Wild Side”.  Her life was filled with self obsession as well as sycophants. She was used by another group of people riding on her coat tails. One of them is Jeremiah Newton. He was her friend and lived with her until her untimely death at 29. Mr. Newton seems genuinely love and admire her yet she is still his link to fame. At the end of the film Jeremiah Newton talks about going to Candy’s mother’s home on Long Island. He went to see “the mother” as he calls her and to retrieve Candy’s personal papers he left with as much as he could. Candy’s mother later burned the remains out of shame.

Candy, Jackie and Holly were well ahead of their time yet made by their time while living a fantasy of another time.  They came from a time when men were men and if you weren’t you lived in the shadows. They left the shadows and became luminaries. Candy like Marilyn died young, Jackie died of an almost predictable/inevitable drug over dose yet Holly survived. There she was here in the theater looking just as one think Holly Woodlawn should look; made up.  Helped to her VIP seats Holly entered the theater declaring she wasn’t drunk but in pain. Settled into her seat Holly was asked if she’d like a glass of wine she said “Yes or maybe some heroin.”  Forty-one years later she is still the superstar. Holly stayed for a Q & A with the audience after the screening. Sometimes she made sense but always she was funny. Holly rambled and reminisced reminding everyone who spoke with her she was/is a superstar.  Where is the film of her life? “A Low Life in High Heels” her autobiography is a perfect source and just waiting to be made into her movie!

This was Candy’s night but it was also Holly’s. They were pioneers! They shaved their legs and never gave it away.  The Downtown Independent was the perfect venue for “Beautiful Darling” it’s on the edge but very elegant.  I left the film knowing more about Candy than I had saddened by her death but assured it was how she’d want it.

Reality on LOGO

Reality on LOGO

Reality is fame, fame is reality and cheap bad entertainment (?) is the way of the new world. The Kardashians are household names for being crass cash cows having no talent other than a vulgar past. Has beens become could bes by letting cameras into their homes. We watch it lapping up every false real moment with relish.

LOGO has decided to join into the mindless cash grabbing fray. This low has been achieved by the airing of “The A-List”. LOGO’s gay themed reality show is about unpleasant no ones from both New York and Dallas. They have found “a-listers” happy to expose their uber faggy foibles for all to see. Stereo-types be praised and reinforced! Bitchy queens throwing drinks and hissy fits make such good TV. So sad, so sad. What is sadder than this drivel is that gay people seem to watch. Enjoying the name calling and queenly spats may be a guilty pleasure but it serves to perpetuate vapid limp wristed stereo-types of what it means to be gay. Oddly there are no “A-List” lesbians. Granted an hour a week of middle class suburbanite queers going about their daily lives has a limited appeal. This is real reality. Real reality is an oxymoron.

LOGO’s other foray into reality programming is “Ru Paul’s Drag Race” This is a game show pitting drag queens in a contest culminating with becoming drag queen of the year. Sure they too are shallow and bitchy; they’re drag queens that’s part of the shtick. None of it is real, drag is illusion.

Logo can’t be entirely held to blame for airing dreck like “The A-List”. They are catering to the public’s taste; if no one watched plot less palaver it wouldn’t get made. The true problem with “The A-List” and their ilk is us. Lazy brains are accepting and expecting false reality in lieu of plot, dialogue and acting. Programming has been replaced by marketing and self promotion and we have been reprogrammed to watch enraptured by nothing.

Real Rock and Roll Movers

Moving is a big pain in the ass.  It is never fun. My partner I and I live in LA and found a new place to live in the hills. Naturally we needed to get all our stuff up there. We are both too old and too lazy so hiring movers was our only option. My job was to find the movers. I hit the internet and my first site was Yelp. I entered “movers” into their search engine and opted for the highest rating first. Up pops “Real Rock ’n’ Roll Movers”. They had a rating of what looks to be 4 and ¾ stars. I checked out the reviews which are 98% 5 star reviews with a couple of 1 star whiners thrown in.  I checked out their website (www.realrocknroll.com) and decided that they seemed worth the shot.

The company has an online check list that is really thorough; this is how you get your estimate. It took me a while to go through it but I was able to fill it out and submit it. So far so good; I swear it was in the next instant we got an email from a guy named Sean who was confirming our request and gave us a number to call.

The company is just what its name purports they are, Rock ‘n’ Rollers who move furniture between gigs.  Who better to move your stuff than rocker dudes? I mean they move equipment all the time and have to do it fast. We exchanged emails and a couple of phone calls and it was decided what size truck we needed and how many rockers it would take.  Everything was falling into place.  The day of our move came and Ta Da they were there and on time. We lived on the top floor of a big old 1920’s building at the end of a really long hallway that turned before you got to an equally old elevator. Then there was a ridiculously large lobby and cobblestone courtyard with a sputtering fountain to contend with and oh yeah we own an insane amount of shit. These guys had their work cut out for them. We were scheduled to have 4 rocker dudes but at the last minute one of them had an angry girlfriend incident and couldn’t make it. So there they were 3 dudes dressed in black with their Real Rock ‘n’ Roll Movers’ truck ready to go.  The three guys that came to move us were Justin Newhart, Roman Kovalik and Josh Robinson and were all dudes total rocker dudes.  Not only did they have the long halls and distances to the truck to contend with they had our freaky ass cat that got loose and basically annoyed anyone and everyone. They did all this while happily carrying out huge pieces of furniture.  I was very impressed.

We got to our new place which is on the top of a seriously huge hill and they unloaded our chattel in a flash.  I was so psyched I whipped out a bottle of champagne and we toasted to our new place.  The guys were great and we couldn’t have been happier with our rocker dudes! 

The concept of Real Rock ‘n’ Roll Movers is genus. Why they aren’t in every city is beyond me.  Who is better than rock dudes and roadies at moving heavy awkward stuff and doing it fast without damaging the stuff? Music is not one of the higher paying professions in the world and a dude’s gotta eat and pay his rent right? My advice to anyone in the LA area looking for a moving company, get these guys! Check out their website and you can like them on Facebook too.

The Minge

The stage was completely dark and the club filled buzzing with anticipation. Glow tape faintly marked a mic stand. A few lights shone from unseen amps. The pit was packed tight like sardines in a can. Everyone was waiting patiently holding their plastic cups of beer. Suddenly there was some vague movement on the stage. Was it the roadies doing a final check? There was a murmur from the crowd and Iphone cameras went off capturing absolutely nothing. There was more movement in the dark.

“We’re old, we’re fat and we rock”

The lights zapped on full and hot. Drums banging and a loud sonic burst of guitar announced the return of “The Minge”.

“Did you think we were dead? Fuck you!”

Faster than anyone remembered louder than they ever were The Minge banged through their set. They killed. Andrea, Lula and Karma hadn’t played live in almost 20 years. They had barely spoken to each other.

It had been a long and trying time for all three women. After their last show and their last huge fight they each stormed off and started new lives. Andrea and Lula had babies and Karma became a Wiccan in the woods. Andrea married and started working as a publicist. Lula started a new band and had done fairly well but never really broken. Karma bought a yurt and lived on an old friend’s land in the mountains. Ronny, an old friend, knew where they were and had kept in touch with them. He had also joined a band that had become a huge hit. He and Andrea lived near one another. They would run into each other here and there at the market. Andrea’s husband Kevin was a rock journalist and did an interview with Ronny inviting him to the house. Ronny and Andrea started talking about old times over a bottle of wine after Kevin’s interview was concluded.  Ronny mentioned he had seen Lula’s new band. Andrea feigned disinterest but it was obvious she was wanted to know more about her. “She’s gotten so much better as a player”, said Ronny. “I saw them a couple of months ago in a mid-sized club in Hollywood. They fucking rocked”. Andrea finished off her glass of wine and mad a nasty face. “Is she still a bitch?” Andrea asked refilling her glass. “Well, sort of but isn’t that what you liked about her?” Ronny answered also filling his glass. “I heard she’s fat.” “No fatter than you heifer!” Andrea laughs loudly and chugged more wine.”Fuck you! Why are you telling me all this shit? I don’t care about her or Karma. Fuck’em both.” Ronny laughs “You heard about Karma right?” “Yeah she lives in a yurt and is a witch or some shit.” Ronny shakes his head and smiles. “You don’t know!” “Know what?” “Karma is married!” “Married? She’s a dyke!” “Yeah, well not anymore.” “So what is she now some kind of yurt-wife? Making fertility potions in her cauldron?” “She’s drumming and teaching drums in a small town.” Andrea slugs down some more wine. “I still don’t know why you are telling me all this shit about a bunch of cows I don’t even know anymore.” Ronny pulls out a bag of Bali Shag and rolls a cigarette. “I am starting a record company, I just told Kevin about it in the interview, I am looking to put out a few records.” “Yeah, so why you talking about me and those cows? What do you want us to do want us to get back together?” “Yeah, I do.” “Get the fuck out of my house!” “No shut up and listen! I talked to Lula and she’s into it and Karma isn’t not into it.” “Well I got better things to do than hang with them again. I have a job you know. I’m doing pretty well too!” “Yeah I know and if you don’t want to do it don’t but they might without you.” Andrea lit a cigarette, “Fuck them, I was the lead singer and neither of them can sing for shit.” “Yeah I know that and you know that and I think they know that too. There was mention of using Constance from “The Revenge”. She could do your parts.” “Constance! Fuck her too! You want me to do this I’ll do it just to screw that bitch!” Andrea is now guzzling wine. “If I do this they have to be nice and shut up about the past. I’m not re-hashing all that shit with them again.”

So that’s how it was that “The Minge” got back together.

2

“We’re two mean mothers and one witch bitch” Andrea screamed into the mic as the second song of their set started out fast and loud. It had been a long hard fight to get them there but there they were The Minge were back on stage live. The pit surged toward the stage old fans mixed with kids moving as one. Lula lifted her foot onto the monitor in her take no prisoners’ stance. She played harder than she had in years. She couldn’t help but Smile. Ronny had been right.

Shag

Shag @ Corey Helford Gallery

Groovy groovin’ LA groovsters grooved. Shag was in town and showing his work at the Corey Helford gallery in the up and grooving Culver City. Kats and cats and Kittens dominate his paintings as per usual but this time minotaurs and insects have joined the party. The name of the show was “Animal Kingdom”. The paintings are slick smooth and eclectically colored and not cheap. The prices run between $4,000 and $12,000 but if that is out of your price range there are lithographs available for anyone’s check book.

The party in the gallery was almost as fabu as the parties in Shag’s paintings. No party will ever be better than the parties in Shag’s paintings but this one tried! Boys in mouse ears abounded guzzling free cocktails with girls dressed in vintage leopard. The swinging confirmed bachelors and bachelorettes babbled and blogged via smart phone about dream interiors and penthouse hilarity rendered in acrylic paint.

Josh Agle, better known as Shag is a southern California artist known for his mid-century modern fantasy world of Camelot era decadence and fun. Curvy women and snappily dressed men drink cocktails and frug by biomorphic coffee tables in a Neutra-esque world that would have should have could have been. It’s a world everyone wants to exist.

As they should be cocktails were free and flowing and the music was swinging drawing the crowd into the paintings bringing them to life. You were in the paintings if you were at the opening. The work and the happening were as one. Paintings came to life and life was a Shag painting for one brief groovy moment.