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In
1979, there were some interesting works of graffiti around town.
Everyone remembers, the pair of giant red lips, on the base
of the support column, of the Detroit-Superior Bridge; back
in the day, before they turned the flats into "The Flats".
But,there was a shorter lived, but nonetheless, monumental piece
of work, over on my end of town. It coincided with a Salvador
Dali exhibit, that was going on, at the Cleveland Museum of
Art, at that time; and quite unrelated, I'm sure some miscreants,
had done a job on the cement wall, that protects the trailer
park, adjacent to the defunct, Euclid Beach amusement park.
I don't remember the the exact content, but it was seven feet
high, and eighty feet wide, and was comprised of at least three
different colors of spray-paint. It was at this time, that Gene
and I, who were drinking beer, tripping on purple micro-dot,
and listening to the D.O.P.E. weekly radio program, at my apartment
on the corner of E.140th street; that we decided to go take
a look at this esoteric vandalism. Down six flights of stairs
and into Gene's VW Beetle, we did go; the sounds of THE MODERN
DANCE by PERE UBU emanated from the speakers which serviced
the automobiles tape deck. And, those songs were a gas! We parked
at the Ponderosa Steak House on Lakeshore Blvd., and headed
east, on foot; and happened to run into Scott and John, of THE
DISSIDENTS, who were walking the opposite direction. We exchanged
pleasantries, and then continued with our psychedelic sojourn.
A few minutes following the appreciation of the outdoor art,
we found ourselves climbing the the inside of the western tower,
of the archway,that welcomed visitors to Euclid Beach for most
of that century.(The arch remains standing to this day.) Somehow,
I lost my grip, and my footing, and plummeted nine feet, to
the hard cement floor; landing on my backside. I could not fully
realize, until the next afternoon, that I was not seriously
hurt, but, needless to say, it sure ruined a good buzz on THAT
Saturday night.
(Lenny Hoffman) |
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There
was me, that is me, Floyd, and my three droogs, sitting in my
friends basement tripping our asses off trying to decide what
to do with the night, when a drunken Bill F. Bash informed us
that the Buzzturd was sponsoring the "rock around the clock
orgy weekend". So high on acid at around 3am, we flew over to
the old Agora. As we made our way to the stage, we fell to our
knees and crawled to the front. It was total chaotic bliss for
our young impressionable tripping minds. We thought it was Hawkwind
at first. I'll never forget - there was Crocus Behemoth in a
yellow raincoat pounding on an anvil with a hammer, it sounded
like an airplane crash with drums. We were hypnotized. I don't
think we spoke for like an hour, our brains had experienced
a meltdown. We had seen and felt the wrath of god. About a month
later, I was at the Viking saloon, when i accidentally threw
a full pitcher of beer at the band Dragonwick. Suddenly, a powerful
arm from behind put me in a headlock, guided me to the door
and threw me to the curb. I looked up. Apparently, god was a
bouncer in his spare time!
(Floyd) |
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The
first time I was made aware of David Thomas he was introduced
to me as Crocus Behemoth. We witnessed PERE UBU as they played
a short set at the pirates cove, opening for the Akron girl
band CHI-PIG. Leaving the flats that night I drove too fast
up the hill by the double railroad tracks on Superior Ave. and
totally bent the frame of my 1969 Chevy Malibu; that was the
end of that car.
One of the more enjoyable Pere Ubu shows occured on a hot summer
night in 1980, in the basement of the old Cleveland Agora. Playing
guitar with them at the time was Mayo Thompson from the Texas
band RED CRAYOLA. A short time later a contest was held to rename
that downstairs club. The prize was a private party for twenty-five
of your freinds in the newly renamed bar. Inspired by that memorable
Ubu show I submitted a proposal to call it the DADA GO-GO. The
winning entry?: the Pop shop; how lame! Scott and Paul of the
DISSIDENTS agreed that I was ripped-off
(Lenny Hoffman) |
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I
only saw Pere Ubu once in 1981 in what may have been their
last show at the old Agora. My room-mate Wally, me, and a
few friends smuggled in a bottle of Jack Daniels because the
drinks cost too much. We each bought a beer and used the plastic
cups to drink shots. There were only about a dozen people
at the show and it was a quiet, if not somber occasion. We
sat on the floor and listened to music that sounded like abstract
painting come to life. Dave Thomas' vocals jumped around like
a monkey stepping on hot coals, and the bands' music seem
to stop time.
After the first set, someone asked Wally what he thought about
the bands' music. "I liked the song about the big fish,"
he said.
What more can you say? So long and thanks for all the fish.
Mike Legg (the quiet maddog)
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Circa
'77-'79, I forget the exact year, Crocus/David apparently
made a visit to Schoolkids' Recs in Chapel Hill, NC, and either
sold or consigned a stack of Hearthan 45s. My friend Robert
Keely (of the H-Bombs) got the word and hustled down there,
called me to tell ME to hustle down there, and we bought all
we could afford. This, to us, was a major find -- local record
stores did NOT stock "punk" 45s at this stage.
We
subsequently started our own zine, Biohazard Informae, which
was an outgrowth of a punk newsletter/propaganda sheet of
the same name that Robert, Peter Holsapple, Chris Chamis and
Mitch Easter of the H-Bombs had started to publicize their
gigs. Meanwhile, Robert had written Crocus and lo and behold,
we wound up receiving Ubu communiques along with promo Hearthan
recs, and we had a major Ubu feature, complete with cribbed
Ubuesque grafix for the artwork, in our first big issue of
Biohazard. I still treasure my copy of "Jeffrey I Hear
You", as much for the delicate sounds as for Crocus'
hand-inscribed promo "stamp" that read something
to the effect of "for promotion only, not for resale
unless for big bucks."
(Fred Mills)
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