Another bad-ass Aries: Lady Day,

Born on April 7, 1915.

'Nuff said,


xxxoooxxx

Tinto Brass, another bad-ass Aries!

Tinto Brass, born in Milan on March 26th 1933, has been making films for over fifty years now. And, according to imdb, is currently in the midst of production for another film as we speak.

Tinto Brass

Brass has worked in a number of genres, but is best known, of course, as an erotic filmmaker. Brass does not make pornographic films.  He makes erotic films.  Most of his erotic films fit in to the classic Italian comedy style, wherein young newly married lovers can not really learn to love each other until they have had experience and been "taught" by outsiders.  But, he also will make very serious erotic films such as Salon Kitty or The Key.

All of his films have real plots, real dialogue, and stories.

He is probably best known for his work on the infamous Caligula film in the seventies, though he asked his name be taken off the credits as he did not get final cut on the scenes he shot, and he does not like to show graphic sex in his films.

Tinto Brass, to me, is about as typical an Aries type as you can get.  Happy eightieth birthday, brother!

(And, no, I am not providing you folks any links to videos! You are on your own, kids!)











All my Aries love,
Kisses on the bottom,
Ardent

Another bad-ass Aries: David Letterman,

Born April 12, 1947.

I can not tell you how much Mr Letterman has influenced my art and life.  I still use lines of his ("I don't know what that means.") and deliver jokes in the exact same style as him.

My Da, Andy, was the person who turned me on to Letterman in the Spring of 1983, when Letterman was still on NBC.  I remember telling Andy the next day that I did not get it, did not think the show was all that funny.  He said, "You have only seen one show.  You have to watch it every night."

Boy, was my Da right.  And, I watched every night for over ten years, even moving over to CBS with him in the 90s.

I do not watch the show now, and I doubt it could ever be nearly as good as the 80s NBC glory years with Pee Wee Herman, Brother Theodore, Sandra Bernhard, the Top Ten Lists, Stupid Pet Tricks, Brush with Greatness (I have a brill one, by the way, but have never been anywhere New York City), Viewer Mail, Chris Elliot, and on and on, ...

Happy birthday, bruvver Letterman!


Mwah, ... 

Another bad-ass Aries!

That is right, folks, the twelve days of Michael's birthday has begun, and I will be sharing the stories of some bad-ass Aries folks like me on fauxluxe.

"You're so pretty when you're unfaithful to me"

Today's bad-ass Aries is Charles Michael Kittridge Thompson IV.  Or, better known as Black Francis or Frank Black.

There is just no getting around it, no matter what any one else might say.  The Pixies are one of the greatest groups of all time.  They stand alone in many ways.  Even their worst records are better than most bands' best ones.  And, they are so distinct, and special, that they are impossible to cover.  One of the Pixies' greatest admirers, David Bowie, attempted to cover Debaser, and failed miserably.  And, I love me some Thin White Duke.

And, could I say something about Joey Santiago, lead guitarist for the Pixies, before I relate a few stories about Black Francis and his stellar band? When I had heard that the Pixies had broken up, I had a friend in the Bakery Dept of the Food Hole at Berkeley that I shared this v sad information with.  This is 1992.  The first words out of her mouth were, "What about Joey Santiago? What is he gonna do?"

I did not get it.  At that point, the Pixies for me were Black Francis and Kim Deal.

I get it now.  And, have "gotten it" for quite a while.  Santiago is one of the greatest rock guitarists ever, full stop.  You do not believe me? Listen to Subbacultcha.  Listen to Vamos.  Listen to his absolutely perfect tone on record after record.  Only Steve Cropper to me has got a better sense of texture and tone to fit the need of a particular song.

Anyroad, it is Story Time now, bothers and sisters:

I have seen the Pixies three times live.  The first time was at the Union Ballroom at UT right after Doolittle.  The space was awful.  The sound was terrible.  (Black Francis, a serious fucking perfectionist kept bitching about the sound all night long.) But, it does not matter.  Austim was desperate, craving to hear the Pixies, their first show there.  My favorist memory of that show, in which they played their set in alphabetical order (how brilliant!) was Kim deal walking out on to the stage, plugging in and saying, "This is Austin, right? You guys love the Butthole Surfers."

The second time I saw them was them promoting Trompe le Monde.  I was on mushrooms, and I had a date that I had completely lost.  She worked with me at Martin Bros (inside the Food Hole Mother Store on Lamar St), and was living with, dating Brian Beatty of Glass Eye (another favorite band of mine.)

I remember a number of things:  One, that the Pixies had no opening act, and that they made us wait forever.  This time it was at The Austin Opera House (a fabulous venue, I saw Squeeze, 10,000 Maniacs, Elvis Costello, Lenny Kravitz, Dino Lee and his White Trash Revue, the Butthole Surfers, and dozens of others there) and Two, that the Pixies had decided that the opening "music", as it were, for their appearance would be thirty minutes of the kind of noise you hear at the beginning of The Smiths' Meat is Murder track.

Third, the mushrooms kicked in right as the Pixies hit the stage.  Black Francis was all dressed in red, a sort of cowboy outfit.  And, the first thing this hard core atheist thought was: Black Francis is Satan!

The band did not play an encore.  Folks at the Opera House were plenty pissed, and Mark W, and my friend Kenny discussed it at the Omlettry  at great length.  (What happened to my date? I have no idea.  I caught up w/ her at work.  She was fine.  And Brian told me that she had had a great great time.) I dinnae care that they dinnae play an encore.  They had satiated my desire, for sure.

*************

Finally, I fucking broke up the Pixies! I was working at Martin Bros., making smoothies and sandwiches for the kids.  Making strawberry smoothies for Molly Ivins (I always told her, "Keep raising hell, Sister" when I handed her her drink.)

Anyhoo, It was my birthday, and the Pixies were playing at the Enormodome, the Frank Erwin Center, opening up for U2.  There was no way I was paying twenty-five dollars to see Bono prance around the stage, bitching about how he still has not found what he was looking for, no matter that the greatest band ever (to me, at least) were opening for them.  (I have read about the horror stories of that tour from the Pixies.  The Pixies severely got the shaft from Ireland's finest, no matter what Bono or The Edge might suggest about their admiration for America's greatest band at the time.)

Black Francis showed up at Martin Bros. on my birthday, April 7, 1992.  Joey Santiago was also there.  David Lovering was not.

(I have always had this strange sensation, fear, that I would not be able to recognize a famous person if they had presented themselves to me.  But, every single time that it has happened to me, I have recognized them straight on, and have  -- for the most part --  got my grille right up on to theirs and introduced myself to them, and tried to start a conversation.)

I recognized Black Francis straight away.  I told all the other folks at Martin Bros that I would be handling this order, making it, ringing it up, whatever.  

I took his order, told him that I wish I were at the show, and that it was my birthday today.  Black Francis said, "Wow, my birthday was yesterday."

I made his sandwich and smoothie, and as I rung him up, said, "Where's Kim?"

Black Francis rolled his eyes in disgust.

I broke up the Pixies.

"It's ead - you - cay - shuh - nuhl!"
























Mwah, ... 

Noam Chomsky will be at the Paramount in Oakland in May.  Talk about holding peasants in your arms, if you will.



















Ardent