Standing Over By The Record Machine: Showdown At The Mercer documents a long-thought undocumented New York Dolls era

Plus I sample Boca Burgers (which should please everyone who hates when I write about food). But first, let's discuss rock 'n' roll gentrification (or is that colonization?).

The beautiful poster accompanying Showdown At The Mercer, suitable for hanging next to your pinups of David Cassidy and Bobby Sherman. (Pic: Yerz Troolee)

Among those closest to the roots, there was the charge even in 1964 that the new sounds were mere imitations of true mastery, and that the measure of the theft was the money made by the freshly landed stars. Fred Below was a great Chess drummer who played on blues and Chuck Berry sessions. He saw a new presence in the clubs he’d play around Chicago in the early 1960s. “They weren’t no Beatles then. They weren’t no well-known bands. They were just guys coming around. They heard what we was playing and they couldn’t play what we was playing, but they tried it. And they played it in their English-style way. Next thing that happened a couple of years later, them guys come here and made a million dollars doing some of our same stuff. They just changed the music around.”

– From Page 218, Chuck Berry: An American Life by RJ Smith 

(Hachette Books, New York, 2022)

In short, white people can sure fuck a good thing up, can’t they?

It’s why it was so surprising, seeing the advent of Jimi Hendrix or the Bad Brains. When it initially burst forth in the ‘50s, rock ‘n’ roll was drawn in black & white. It was rhythm & blues with a dash of country music and secularized gospel, all hopped up on goofballs, played by blacks and whites. Then The Beatles and Stones came along, playing Chuck Berry and Bo Diddley and Muddy Waters and Motown, with a degree of sloppiness the original masters never indulged. 

Unfortunately, they bleached it. By accident.

Much as we may love English rock ‘n’ roll, much as the Stones impacted everything, wasn’t the music much better and more swingin’ when it wasn’t colonized?

Jimi Hendrix should not have surprised anyone, save for his extraordinary talent. Rock ‘n’ roll was always supposed to be black music.

Go on — tell this man he can’t play rock ‘n’ roll. I dare ya. (Pic: NOT by Yerz Troolee)(Alright, it’s actually by the great Gered Mankowitz.)

I’ve been thoroughly enjoying R.J. Smith’s new definitive Chuck Berry biography, quoted above. It will be the subject of a review here, once I finish it. The entire book is thought-provoking, to say the least. The basic theme of this tale of rock ‘n’ roll’s most complex founding father is that of race, and how Chuck dealt with it in an almost stealthy manner. But the chapter containing that passage,  “How Much Do They Owe Chuck?”, is particularly heavy. It basically tackles head-on the idea of cultural appropriation that’s dogged rock ‘n’ roll since Chuck D. dropped that “Elvis was a hero to most” line in Public Enemy’s “Bring The Noise,” a lyric over which he has since expressed regret.

The struggle is real, y’all. Rock ‘n’ roll is less interesting without black influences. This includes my beloved punk rock. As invented by the New York Dolls and The Stooges, it was meant to be a vicious take on rhythm & blues – “The Rolling Stones in Hell,” as I characterized it in something I wrote recently. But since Johnny Ramone wrongheadedly admitted he wanted his band to have “no blues influences,” the sound’s gotten more white and suburban as the years’ve piled on, especially with the influence of hardcore. The initial ties to reggae have mostly been pushed aside, save for the occasional tearaway such as The Interrupters. Even fully black practitioners such as Death, Pure Hell and Bad Brains are rare. But think about how some of the most interesting, vital punk outfits of the last few years – Negro Terror, H09909, Soul Glo (heroes of a post at this ‘Stack last year) – are black.

H09909: As punk as it gets nowadays. (Pic: Most decidedly NOT Yerz Troolee!)

The one solution I can think of, which certain bands have implemented, is adopting hip-hop lyricism and recording techniques. And not like that meathead Fred Durst, either! But in the thoughtful way Andre3000 created OutKast’s “Hey Ya!” after listening to a buncha Ramones and Buzzcocks records. What if punk bands utilized samples as wildly and innovatively as Public Enemy, or wrote lyrics with a Wu Tang Clan mindset? H09909 and Soul Glo are already doing these things. It’s time the virus spread.

And now for a new album from my all-time favorite band. And here’s to at least two posts on The ‘Stack this week. 

(Pic: Yerz Troolee)

NEW YORK DOLLS – Showdown At The Mercer (Trade Mark Of Quality) LP

“Let me ask you a question, to all you lovely dolls,” a David Johansen who’d turned 23 one week earlier queries from across the mists of time. “Is there anything called ‘clarity’ out there? It’s hard for me to tell.” 

Those of us in the 21st Century hearing this remarkable document of the New York Dolls live at the Mercer Arts Center on January 16th, 1973 can  reply emphatically, “FUCK YES!!” Some crazy visionary calling himself “The Troll” has revived Ken Douglas and Michael “Dub” Taylor’s infamous Trade Mark Of Quality label – early ‘70s home of many classic (AHEM!) “fan club” records by such obscure talents as The Beatles, Bob Dylan and Led Zeppelin – to issue this tape, recorded by pioneering rock journalist and Mercury A&R man Paul Nelson at the site of the glam/punk pioneers’ earliest triumphs.

“Clarity,” David? Yes. It’s surprisingly clear. Mastering technology has come a long way since those original TMOQ albums were released. Computers and DAWs can strip all the murk and muck inherent in the sorta portable mono cassette recorders on which Nelson likely captured this loud and loose performance, as well the normal bias “low noise” tape that’s the likely source. What would have been a funereal rumble had it been issued in 1973 is now loud and full, with a fidelity that isn’t quite high – mid-fi, perhaps? But it certainly is far less grimy than the source tapes had to have been.

To set the scene, this was one of the earliest gigs featuring new drummer Jerry Nolan, freshly installed after Billy Murcia’s death by misadventure just weeks before. The Dolls are loose enough that Johnny Thunders misses his cue on one of the two spoken word bits on their cover of the Shangri-Las’ “Give Her A Great Big Kiss.” But Nolan’s machine gun fills already tighten up and focus them – there’s a cohesion and professionalism never previously present, if you hear any of their Murcia-era demos. 

But all the elements are firmly in place, waiting for Todd Rundgren and Jack Douglas to commit them to tape. Thunders’ guitar is slippin’ and slidin’, screamin’ and grinding, while Syl Sylvain comps a little cleaner, a little bluesier. Arthur “Killer” Kane locks in with Nolan, providing a fat, solid bottom for the six-string kamikaze missions. And Johansen is as arch and hilarious as ever.

Whoever The Troll is, he’s done right by the Dolls. The mastering and 180 gram vinyl pressing are impeccable, allowing the Dolls to roar across the decades, in likely the first ever peek those of us who were not there have gotten at the band rockin’  the Mercer. Yeah, the record and the packaging, down to a bonus full color poster, are first rate. But it’s the historical nature of Showdown At The Mercer which ultimately makes it so crucial. Yeah, you need this record.

“Believe it or not…I met Mary from the Shangri Las the other day,” Johansen giggles before that “Great Big Kiss,” which proves the Dolls would have gone down a storm at the Peppermint Lounge ten years earlier. “And she asked, ‘David, do the kids remembah?’ And I said, ‘Mary, they love you!’” If today’s kids heard Showdown At The Mercer, I am betting I could tell Johansen the same thing…. 

[Taken from the latest issue of Ugly Things, to which I am a contributor. Order your copy of UG#62, the Summer 2023 edition, by clicking this here link. And yes, I’m aware of the new David Johansen documentary directed by Martin Scorcese that recently premiered on Showtime, Personality Crisis: One Night Only. Be expecting a review here at The ‘Stack next week. ]

Putting On The Feedbag: Boca Burgers are a satisfying substitute.

Sure, once you pile on the mayo, lettuce, tomato….

Yep, Yerz Troolee snapped this bit of food porn. Doesn’t it look yummy?

I’m about to confess to a rather unpopular act: I eat meat.

Sorry to disappoint you. I know, being a carnivore nowadays is the worst crime on Earth, tantamount to being a publisher of kiddie porn or Marjorie Taylor Greene. It’s especially heinous in punk circles, where it now feels like one of the new rules about What Is/Isn’t Punk is that veganism is required. Not even good ol’ fashioned, Crass-sanctioned vegetarianism – you have to be vegan. No animal byproducts shall be ingested whatsoever.

Sadly, I’m very old school. I prefer the Sex Pistols to blink-182. I also wear cowhide, and love steaks, burgers, fried chicken, bacon and hot dogs. I like eggs in the morning. I get all the moral and health arguments, believe me. But I like the taste of beef, chicken, pork and fish. I like black leather jackets, belts, shoes and boots. And I’m stubborn. And no, I won’t apologize.

But for health and monetary reasons, I have decided a few adjustments to my diet might be in order. Two or three meatless days per week could be beneficial – to my body, my bank balance, and to Mother Earth. Maybe a salad per day, and laying off the seared animal flesh a few days per week could help?

I thought a good start would be replacing a few of the burgers I have per week (always home cooked) with some sorta veggie burger. Tried finding Beyond Burgers in the not-as-good-as-the-Mueller-store-HEB closer to my house. No soap. Since they did have Boca Burgers in stock, I opted to try those.

Not bad. A bit smaller than the ground beef patties I hand-make, but those cook down anyway. These have a good smokey flavor, like they’re backyard burgers. The texture and mouthfeel wasn’t quite there, but it was still reasonable. Once you slather on mayo, and throw on lettuce and tomatoes – or whatever you choose to dress your burgers with – it’s pretty satisfying, overall.

I would be pretty content to stick with Boca Burgers for my three day stand-in. Really though, other brands need to be sampled in the name of science. The search continues….

TOMORROW: MONTE A. MELNICK, PART 2! COMING SOON: CAPTAIN SENSIBLE!!!

#timstegall #timnapalmstegall #timnapalmstegallsubstack #punkjournalism #gentrificationofrocknroll #chuckberryanamericanlife #book #rjsmith #rocknrollisblackmusic #chuckberry #bodiddley #littlerichard #bleachingofrocknroll #jimihendrixshouldnothavebeenasurprise #badbrains #negroterror #H09909 #soulglo #standingoverbytherecordmachine #recordreview #newyorkdolls #showdownatthemercer #live #davidjohansen #johnnythunders #jerrynolan #sylsylvain #arthurkane #puttingonthefeedbag #foodreview #bocaburgers #notbad #punkrock #punk #subscribe #upgradefromfree #fivedollarpaidsubscriptions #bestwaytosupport