Work For Free?

Do you want to work for free? Why not? Because it is work. Actors and others in the arts are expected to want to work for the shear joy of working. Are artists not worthy of compensation? Many people seem to believe this. We work for the love of work. Yes, artists do love their work but don't dentists and truck drivers and flight attendents love their work? They do and they are paid for it. There is a difference with helping out a friend but working for free for a stranger and being treated like an employee is a different story. Actors are constantly being "given" the opportunity to work for nothing, nada, squat. We'll give you credit; my how thoughtful of you! How about a little compensation? Is my time worth nothing to your project? If you don't have actors you just have a set. I recently received a phone call from th Dr Oz show. They wanted me to appear on their chat show but weren't interested in paying. When I declined the woman on the other end of the phone seemed shocked. Didn't I want to be on Dr. Oz? "Is Dr. Oz getting paid?", I asked, "Are you?" "well yes, but that is different." How so? You are a money making business, a TV show is a business. I am a business person too you know! I am not living on thanks I pay bills, buy food, wear clothes just like anyone else. If you can't afford to pay your actors you can't afford to make you film or video. Do you just call a camera company and say "hey can I have a free camera?" When you go to the supermarket do you assume you will get free food? No of course you don't, so why oh why do you expect and actor to just give you a product? Could it be our own fault? Perhaps it is actors who are to blame we don't simply say no enough. Well here is one that just says no. If I don't know you, you can pay me to spend 8 to 12 hours on your set. No one should be expected to work for free. Perhaps I am greedy, perhaps I am deluded but I do think I actors and what we do have worth!

Weho Bistro

So some friends bought a joint in West Hollywood called Salade de Provence. It was a loser restaurant, everybody knew it, in a great place with parking. It was a West Hollywood wet dream. Great space, good chef what more can you ask for? Paint the joint re-name it and boom you're in business! And they did it. The first of the year they bagged the old name and painted the shit out of the place and Weho Bistro was born. Same food just a better presentation and space, that's all you need and bam your are a hit!

When you walk in either Jerry or Jeff greet you and welcome you to their new place. When they welcome you they really mean it, they love having you. You aren't just a customer, they actually love that you came in. If you are really lucky they'll point out a celebrity you didn't know was there. It's very discreet and ever so Hollywood. Be you celeb or be you not you are welcome there. Be you A-list; well no one will bug you, be you y-list you get the same treatment. Everyone is a celeb a Weho Bistro.

If you don't have fun, it's your own damn fault. There's a tourist joint up the hill for you! Have the "surprise" because it's worth it and who doesn't want a surprise! This is an LA treat.

The Oscars Live in Hollywood

Well I tried to watch the Oscars but the show was so damned dull I knew I wouldn't make it through the whole show. I tried to care but some how just didn't. They seem to have no relevence, rich people in borrowed clothing strutting along a carpet layed on a filthy street entering a building with no name as the sponser has pulled out. They stand in their tedious finery patting each other on the back saying oh you are wonderful and so am I. Look at us aren't we wonderful, buy our product. It is really just a 3 hour commercial interupted by shorter ads.

I decided to go out and see some live performance. Real people in front of actual viewers. This seemed to me to be a better use of my time and frankly a hell of a lot more fun.

Selene Luna's Dog and Pony Show

The Grammy Museum

The Grammy Museum is not a museum about grandmothers. I had to explain this to my partner; it's a museum about the Grammy Awards. It doesn't have displays of Afghans and false teeth but costumes and instruments. That being said, the Grammy Museum is an interactive and invigorating museum.

The museum is located in the LA Live complex in downtown LA. The complex is very modern and inviting. It houses, along with the Museum, a bowling alley bar, the Nokia Theater, Trader Vic's and a bunch of other bars and restaurants. This isn't an article about LA Live so let it suffice to say the place is worth checking out.

The Entrance to the museum is on Figueroa St. where you are greeted by one of the few docents you encounter throughout the museum. The day we were there the gentleman at the door pointed out Janis Joplin's psychedelic Porsche in the lobby while he called for the elevator. The museum starts on the fourth floor and you work your way downward. We stepped into the black lighted elevator and were off on our Grammy Museum experience.

The elevator opens on the fourth floor to a room of wall sized video screens displaying past Grammy acceptance speeches. A twice than life sized Mary J. Blige was accepting an award for something and thanking God when I arrived. This foyer opens to the first gallery, historic photos and some actual Grammys in cases line the walls but the focus of the room is an interact table in the center of the room. "Crossroads" is the name of this display. By touching a genre of music video information and graphics appear on the table along with audio clips. Each of these genres has stylistic interactive links to another genre. I naturally touched Punk Rock and The Ramones started playing in my earphones. The screen had links to Hard Core, Glam, Garage, New Wave, Rockabilly, Ska, and Rock. These too had links leading to their prospective influences.

The next room has memorabilia from all the different genres of music the Grammy awards cover as well as some surprising information on the history of popular music in America and the world. Ranging from Ragtime to Jazz to Country and Religious music; popular music's genres are all covered. There are pieces of original sheet music and instruments along with costumes from the old masters of American music. The museum then shifts to The Grammy's itself. Photos and video clips along with red carpet outfits line the cases. The museum documents the history of the Grammy and the awards show. It is filled with facts and trivia that are just fascinating. Did you know Bob Newhart won a Grammy for Best New Artist in 1961 for a spoken word record "The Button-down Mind of Bob Newhart"?

We travelled down to the third floor where the museum becomes even more interactive. Here displays of musical instruments are set up on a small stage and visitors are encouraged to pick them up and play them. There is a drum kit, bass, guitar, keyboard and microphone set up just waiting for the next Green Day or Sly and the Family Stone to walk up. There are sound proof booths throughout this floor covering every aspect of the recording process and the back wall honors and explains the Producer and it role the producer plays. In one corner by the stairs to the second floor there is a section entirely devoted to the Latin Grammy Awards. This is a small area but I was impressed that it was not ignored. I learned some things I would never have known and saw a dress worn by Celia Cruz.

The second floor of the museum has a room for changing shows. The show on display while I visited was devoted to Janis Joplin (hence the car in the main Lobby), Jimi Hendrix and the Doors. Contemporary photos of the performers and their histories lined the walls and filled the cases. There were some beautiful letters from Janis to her parents on one wall along with outfits she wore that I found particularly interesting. I would like to have seen more about The Doors as the museum was in Los Angeles but that is just me. The remained of the floor is taken up with the obligatory gift shop and to be frank I passed on looking at coffee mugs and mouse pads with the museum logo on them. I am sure there are some very lovely souvenirs available if that is your kind of thing.

We spent just under two hours in the museum and I will return again as I know I did not fully explore the collection as thoroughly as I might. This is a museum that caters to rockers and pop fans as well as it does kids and those adults ADHD. The interactive component of the museum makes it a very worthwhile experience.

Punk Rock Bar

Punk Rock Bar by Timm Carney A Punk Rock Bar is a beautiful thing. A thing to be celebrated and cherished. A true punk rock bar is an unsung hero and deserves to be worshiped. Where else can the ugly, the dirty, and the talent less be stars? Sure, there are good-looking, clean, and talented punks, but they are few and far between. Punk rock has always been a celebration of “the wrong”. The outcasts coming together became a viable genre eventually celebrated by mass culture. The roots of punk rock are punk rock bars. A punk rock bar should be dark, preferably black. Loud music is always playing in a punk rock bar. The next most important thing: cheap beer. The bathrooms of a punk rock bar are vile. A punk rock bar bartender is either hot or an asshole. Bands that have never played anywhere and sometimes never again are the opening acts. Sound check? Yeah right. A punk rock bar should have a room the size of a large closet. for the bands to stow their equipment and put stickers on the walls. Punk rock bars have the most diverse and tolerant crowds. Punks don’t hate; they’re just pissed off. As long as you are into the music you are totally welcome in a punk rock bar. If there is a fight in a punk rock bar it is purely personal. The pit. The pit is something else. The pit is the X, the variable, never the same twice. “How’s the pit? Who’s the band?” Fast and sweaty describes a punk rock pit. If it’s not fast and it’s not sweaty it’s, not punk rock. It’s just loud. If a punk rock bar’s cover is over ten dollars tell the door guy to fuck off and walk away. A punk rock show cover is cheap that’s all there is to it. Any punk rock band charging more than ten bucks is not playing in a punk rock bar unless it’s CB’s. CBGB’s is the proto-type of a punk rock bar; the father of all punk rock bars an international cultural landmark. Punk Rock has moved beyond a mere musical style; the ethos of punk rock infuses the politics and mores of generations. There are punk rock grandfathers walking around in our society with their punk rock grandchildren. The Safari Lounge is the quintessential punk rock bar. Located on an alley in an old nut store Providence’s Safari lounge embodies everything a punk rock bar strives to be. Bad acoustics and a crappy stage take up one corner, behind the bar is either a total hottie punk rock chick or a 50ish ex-speed freak with an amazing lady’s mullet. Either one of these broads can kick your ass. Seated or enthroned at the end of the bar is the owner; the king of his punk rock domain. The owner of the Safari Lounge looks like he may actually live under a bridge. This is his place and if you piss him off you’d better get the fuck out. Those are the rules. On the back wall by the squalid lady’s room and fetid men’s room is a glass case. Living in the glass case is a 12-foot yellowish-whitish constrictor. Occasionally the constrictor is fed and a rat is dropped into the tank. Rapt punk rock boys gather around the tank while their girlfriends wait in line to pee between bands. The best thing about the Safari Lounge is the cover. Zero, no charge. Three sometimes four shitty bands will play on Friday and Saturday nights. A lot of hair has been swung on that stage. The buildings around the Safari Lounge, once vacant office and retail spaces, now house scores of Trendy People. Trendy People don’t like punk rock bars. They’re too loud, too dirty and attract the wrong people. Trendy is punk rocks enemy; it the age-old good vs. evil story. A punk rock bar is always being threatened with closure. Every cop knows every punk rock bar. Just being in a punk rock bar makes you a suspect. The sidewalks in front of a punk rock bars are littered with cigarette butts and smokers. The real fun often happens in front of a punk rock bar. But be you Goth, be you Metal, be you gay, whatever, there will always be a night for you at a punk rock bar.

The Last Week at CB's

A Road Trip to CB's
by Timm Carney

The Midnight Creeps and The Sleazies booked gigs opening for The Vibrators at CBGB’s. I was invited along by Jennifer Hurricane lead singer for the Midnight Creeps. The show was Saturday September 29^th, this would be my last chance to go to CBGB’s; sure I’ll go. Jennifer said “We’re leaving around 2, well no maybe 3 ok ok 4.” At 4:30 we were on the freeway heading south. The worst part about driving to New York from Providence is Connecticut. 100 miles of sheer never ending tedium, but luckily, I was one of 13 in a 12-passenger van so it was a lot of fun.. In Mediocre (I think that was the name of the town) Connecticut we pulled over at a rest area cum McDonalds cum Dunkin Donuts cum Gift Shoppe.

“Hey you guys are a rock band!” said the roly-poly guy with the Burt Reynolds mustache. He was apparently once a fan of “Rawk” and asked Stimbot of the Sleazies if they sounded like “Satriani”. His clearly embarrassed and aging trophy wife eased him into the SUV.

Back in the van Jennifer sits up front next to Jami who’s driving, Ma and Pa Punk Rock. Ma starts making her skirt for the show out of a roll of Caution tape. Jennifer usually makes her outfit just before the show. She recently made a skirt from raw bacon. When asked about it she simply shouted “Who wants to bring home the bacon?”

CB’s arranged a parking spot for us right out front and we all poured out onto Bowery. Jennifer and I walked into the narrow club and past the stage to the restrooms. Some teenage boys with fabulous hair and famous person’s kid guitars were just finishing up their set and breaking down. Jaded New Yorkers watched her pass with interest. Jennifer turned it on when we walked in to the door of CB’s. Jennifer was now officially at work.

I slipped outside to meet some friends waiting like old groupies on the sidewalk. We went off to semi-quiet yuppie bar and scared up a few bar stools.

New York has changed since I started going to CBGB’s but CB’s has not. The East Village the one time home of bohemians and junkies has been repopulated by copyeditors and upper middle management bankers. CBGB’s had to go. A good fight was fought but the realtors won. It was over; but wait CB’s has been saved (sorta). It’s moving to Las Vegas! Vegas has always had a shitty music scene. Sure John Davidson and Cher can get gig but not your average punk rock band. Toto might be playing but le Tigre and The Dandy Wahols are not. CB’s is moving lock stock and urinal and is giving Las Vegas the rock and roll legitimacy that only Vegas can buy.

The Sleazies were playing when we got back into the club. “I wanna fuck your Mom” really is a hit. My friend Meg and I ordered a couple of beers. Meg now needed to pee. “Escort Me,” she shouted into my ear. We worked our way back skirting the pit as best we could; a crash and a stumble later we were in the dressing room talking to Jonas from The Midnight Creeps. Jonas is a nice guy. He’s really quiet and chick love him. I showed Meg to the ladies room. 2 minutes later she returned. “I can’t do it we have to go someplace else.” Having used the men’s room I could only imagine the horrors of the ladies room. We ran back across the street to the yuppie bar. Much more pleasant!

We walked back in just as Jennifer and the Midnight Creeps were coming onto stage. They killed! Jennifer’s rages backed by the Midnight Creeps pulled the crowd into their web. The Vibrators were next. My friend Jacki loves The Vibrators. She felt she looked like someone’s mother “Have you seen my son? I want to take his picture.” She said pulling a camera from her purse.

The Vibrators could be the scariest looking band I have ever seen. An apparent combination of embalming fluid and oxycontin flows through their collapsed veins. They played well and put on a very good show. I’m glad I got to see them. When the show was over it was back to their crypt at the Chelsea for the Vibrators.

Out front after the show, I sat in the van with Pete Burr. An old and very chatty black man offered to fly us home in his helicopter. We also met Justin a 16-year-old punk rock runaway. “Where are you guys from?” “Providence” “Where’s that?” “Rhode Island” “Where’s that?” “Go back to high school and finish taking geography kid”

I looked out of the van window at 3am to see Jennifer making out on the sidewalk with Punk Rock Boy. He claims to be on the street. I would have believed him if he weren’t almost clean shaven and to perfectly dressed.

“I’m going camping this weekend with Seth Feldman.”

“Okay honey, have fun!”

Somehow, we were able to free ourselves from both Justin and the helicopter pilot load everyone including Jennifer into the van. Driving through New York everyone has an opinion as to the best way to get out of town. Suddenly Jennifer’s phone rings, it’s CB’s booker asking if she would be interested in playing another show. Patti Smith is mentioned. Patti is CB’s last act fitting, as Joey is dead and would be the logical last act. Patti it is. “Baby was a black sheep Baby was a whore…”

Suddenly I wake up and the van is stopping at the rest area in Boredom Bay Connecticut. It’s like 4:75 or something in the morning before we finally get back on the road. The next thing I know we are pulling into Providence. I’m home. I can see my house from where Jami has parked the van. 6:35 am I’m in bed!