MAIL

MAIL

Please send letters to:

MAIL Dept., CREEM Magazine

P.O. Box 202, Walled Lake, Mich. 48088

DEAR CREEM

Know what you get if you cross Black Sabbath with 1910 Fruitgum Co.? “Little Willie” (The Sweet!) Yes, it’s true.,

BAR

NYC

GOOD SPORT OF THE MONTH

Hello sugars! We saw the review of our album and Shel’s album in your newspaper and really dug it... We didn’t even know you guys were into parodies. Finally, a rock magazine that doesn’t take itself seriously. Unbelievable!!!

Now we’re sorry that we didn’t sing “Cover of CREEM,” but it just didn’t make it rhythmically...

Please ask Mr. Bangs if he would consider writing some songs for our next album... We like his style and we think he has a great imagination... He probably had a lot of your readers believing that the review was written by some uptight motherfucker who hasn’t gotten laid in months!

Well... we gotta go now, but we’ll keep in touch... It’s good to have you on our side...

We think you’re TOPS! (as compared to Bambui... )

Doctor Hook and the Medecine Show

Holiday Inn of Cincinnati — South P.S. Shel says “Hello!”

Re:TV mhsic. Fuck those In Concert and Midnight Specials shows. The best music on TV comes from those Multiplication Rock shorts on Sat. and Sun. and those little ditties Harry Chapin writes for Make a Wish. How bad can a show-produced by Hy Fuchs be, anyway? I’m waitin’ for the LP.

DON'T HOLD YOUR BREATH

Today while walking through the Jewish section of stately Hitsville, U.S.A., I met an old man. He put his wizened hand on my back, and said, “You know, Big James Alley Cat, all this chic glam-rock’s gonna kill itself off within three years. Bowie will be out, out, out. Garcia’ll be back, baby, just watch. There’ll be another Woodstock, and peacelovedope all around. The Airplane’s gonna sell Grunt, move out to the pines, and do acid. And the Krishna people will distribute their incense free of charge because everything will reek of peacelovedope. Just watch, it’ll all come back. Glam-rock’s just transient.

I turned to him and said, “How the hell do you know so much about rock & roll for an 84 year old?”

He smiled and said, “I’ve read all of Lester Bangs’ books. And I live in the same old peoples’ home as Ralph J. Gleason.”

He walked away, and avoided a mud puddle as not to get his Thom McAn rockers stained.

I’ll be. standing in line to buy the first ticket to the 1976 Woodstock festival. I’ve even got a pair of faded jeans that Bowie can have in three years. I even have a campsite staked out in Lincoln Park for the ’76 Democratic Convention.

Kick ass while ya can. It happens only once in each generation.

Big James Alley Cat Fuller

Hitsville, U.S.A. v

P.S. It’s all rock and roll, you know.

MAMA JAMMA

I am returning your shirt and request my money back. Unfortunately I allowed my son to send for it before I had a chance to look over your magazine. Because I find its contents objectionable I don’t want to have anything advertised in or sanctioned by your publication in my home or on my family.

Mrs. Frances Payton Centralia, Washington

FOGGED UP

I apologize! My mother copped out with my April issue of CREEM for 2 weeks — that’s why I didn’t see it. (The picture of topless Grade Slick was all fogged up from my mom gaping at it for 2 weeks).

Sorry for the complaint!

Lydia Lask N.Y., N.Y.

(Tell your ma to straighten out, get herself a copy of Zipper, and leave your CREEM alone. -Ed.)

Do It!

This is just to say We want you. That should’ve been obvious all along, of course, but just in case it isn’t here’s the deal:

NOBODY WHO WRITES FOR THIS RAG’S GOT ANYTHING YOU AIN’T GOT,

at least in the way of credentials. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t be sending us your stuff: fiction, reviews, features, cartoons, stuff about Him, ecology, books or whatever you have in mind that we might be able to use. Sure, we don’t pay much but then who else do ya know who’ll publish you? We really will. . , ask any of our dozens of satisfied customers. Just bop it along to us and see what comes back your way (lots faster if you enclose a stamped, self-addressed envelope). There’s really no such thing as an “unsolicited manuscript,” you know, and if you have eyes to be in print, this just might be the place.

Whaddya got to lose?

^Whaddya got?

ALICE'S RUNAWAY

I’m a 15 year old girl and I live in Newport, Rhode Island. Alice Cooper is coming down here to do a concert in Providence, R.I. and my sister won’t take me and my friends. Of •course my friends are going to take the bus and I got to sit on my ass home cuz my asshole parents won’t let me take the bus. They seem to think that I’m 2 years old and that I can’t take care of myself. Well I’ve just about had it with their shit. I’m leaving. I never had the guts to leave before but I can’t wait now. I was gonna stay in school and be a somebody. (So they say.) But now I’ll become a bum. I don’t care anymore. Besides how old do they think half the kids are that go to his concert? A good percent of them are my age even some younger than me. How the hell do they think all these kids get to the concerts? I’m sure the hell they don’t all get rides. Maybe they think I’m gonna get raped or something. I hope the hell I do and get them off my ass! They think they’re so god dam smart. I’d like to kick them both right in the ass. This concert meant so much to me. And I’m so fuckin’ pissed off it ain’t funny. Do you have any suggestions on what I should do:

Debbie Narse

Newport, R.I.

P.S. Alice Cooper: I love ya! And I’ll get to your concert if I have to bust my ass!

(Lester Bangs said he’d give you a ride. - Ed.)

POOP ON BANGS

Several CREEM readers have raised questions concerning the existence of one “Lester Bangs.” Basically,, these questions centered around five fundamental principles: How?, When?, Where?, What?, and mainly, Why?

I will attempt to clarify these questions by relating true incidents out of Lester’s past. This is the first of a continuing series: all are collector’s items!

Long ago, when Lester was a small boy, he had quite a few “toys in the attic.”-His mommy always bitched about his hair and he was forced to endure many degrading trips to the barber. On this particular trip, little Lester entered the barbershop sucking on a popsicle. The barber didn’t notice the popsicle and immediately began clipping. Finally, the barber saw the popsicle and this conversation resulted:

Barber: “Oh! I’m so sorry, you’ve got hair on your popsicle.”

Lester: “Yes, and I’m only four .years old!”

This should clarify matters.

D.N.A. Chains

Duquesne, Pa. XXXX

MELANIE'S BOD

This Tetter is to Jeff Cohen, that worldly asshole from Hillside, N.J., and your shitty two-bit publication.

First of all, Mr. Cohen, what ever compelled you to write that scribble to CREEM anyway? That brilliant statement, “Last night I saw Melanie in her underpants,” is a classic. But what can one expect from a person of your seemingly demented mentality? Also, let’s not forget CREEM’s wonderful statement dealing with the. chastity belt (which really belongs in the editor’s mouth.)

Melanie has class. I wish you guys wouldn’t even mention her in your elementary editions. She doesn’t need to flash her body around like Carly Simon and Grace Slick. Her soul is too beautiful to scar with porno pictures. She will be around a hell of a lot longer than your trash magazine.

I wrote this protest on old notebook paper to show you how much your magazine is worth. *-

J ason-of-Mont-Ste.-Michel

Concerning that “Superstar Group” for Eric Clapton’s comeback concert in London: who’s the asshole that stuck Ronnie Wood on bass? Why doesn’t he play the slide guitar (as he so brilliantly has in the past)? Why waste his talents on the bass? Frankly Ithink he should stick to his own “Superstar Group”: The Faces.

Joel Taylor Stockton, Calif.

P.S. I was just wondering if, by any chance, that concert will be taped and brought out on one BAADAASS album?

(Look for a recording of Eric Clapton’s Rainbow gig, featuring Ron Wood among others, probably on RSO records later this year. - Ed.)

BLOW OUT

I was amused and fascinated by your recent article on “Farting in Rock.’’ The fart is, indeed, the only interesting innovation in rock and roll in the last four years, a sound which captures the spirit and imagination of the 1970’s.

Brian Cullman’s mention of the preferences of medieval kings along with your historical article on the great Le Petomane put the issue in the right perspective. But did you know that musical farting was known to the ancients? In The City of God (Book XIV, Ch. 24), St. Augustine takes up the subject of “The power of the will over the body.” Speaking of the wonders of God’s creation, Augustine comments:

We do in fact find among human beings some individuals with natural abilities very different from the rest of mankind and remarkable by their very rarity. Such people can do some things with their body which are for others utterly impossible and well-nigh incredible when they are reported. .. A number of people produce at will such musical sounds from their behind (without any stink) that they seeib to be singing from that region.

That Augustine could riot be here to tell today’s musicians how such an art is accomplished without the stink.

Langdon Winner Berkely, Calif.

What in the hell happened to the “crazy world of arthur brown?”

an arsonist

Los Angeles, Claifornia

(Arthur’s still releasing albums in England; the rest of the group got burnt out. - Ed.)

It’s a mellow moment in the life of a comic art freak when you lay on us that fantastic Marvel Comics spread, and 1 can only offer my express thanks plus my unquestioned financial support on that issue (I bought three). Since I’m not into music enough to really get on out and buy your mag for that, I do hope you will continue to publish excellent collages of info on art and comix, maybe dealing with the new and exciting trends at National (DC for you laymen). Those guys aren’t turning out the crud they used to, and if you guys are reporting on the youth medium it’s worth exploring. Examine, for example, DC’s SWAMP THING, KAMANDI, WEIRD WORLDS, WEIRD WESTERN, SWORD OF SORCERY, a trickling of a sweeping new quality from the countergroup of the Madcap Bullpen gang. Marvel’s on the move - and so is CREEM.

Marc Emery

London, Ontario, Canada (Watch for more on Marvel, DC, Mad and the entire range of comix in upcoming CREEM installments of Mike Baron’s Utter Trash column. — Ed.)

SOUR CREEM

I totally agree with Barbara from L.A. on your magaaine’s potential to incite vomit. Your obsession with crude articles and puke language will soon destroy you. Any mag which starts out writing about John Coltrane and winds up praising “Spiderman” is racing for the bottom, full speed.

The best solution to your two-pronged dilemma is to turn “Sour CREEM” into two new magazines, like so:

1. “FROG” — the Film Fox, Christgau, other film, book, and logical album reviews, plus the isolated good articles (Krassner, Firesign, Chuck Berry.)

2. “BARF” — 78% of the articles, Cherry Vanilla, and that “Satirical” (I hope) mind-rot subscription offer in the April mag. Whose stomach pumped that one out?

You had a potentially great magazine once, but something bad must have gone wrong. Who are you running it for now, the Glue-Sniffers of the Eastern Seaboard? I can hardly wait ’til my subscription dies.

Sorry,

Mike from Arizona

(Wait till you see our CREEM Mate of the Month Fold-Out... Ed.)

SHERNOFF BRILLIANT (Sic)

This is not going to be a critical analysis of' Billie Marie Gross’ letter about Adny (sic) Shernoff’s review of R. Meltzer’s book. I’m writing to you concerning her “put down” of Adny (sic) Shernoff in her letter. She wrote that “rock music is dying because Adny (sic) Shernoff (among others) inflicts. his 16-year-old consciousness on the music of 26-year-olds” ech.

That was a totally foolish and insipid statement. Adny (sic) Shernoff is a brilliant young journalist and his writings are of the highest calibre. Whether he’s 16 or not (actually he’s 9) makes absolutely no difference. He’s been around all phases of rock (among other fields of decadence) and is very talented.

And what makes you think rock music belongs to 26-year-olds? I’m 26 too, babe, and it sure ain’t my music yet — I’m still making the payments on my copy of Exile on Main Street. I just hope I get it paid for in time for the next Stones smash.

Adny (sic) Shernoff happens to know music and his taste and knowledge are wellrounded. Fact is, Adny (sic) absorbed all that sundry humor right in the womb, as his folks (solid fifties liberals they) were inveterate Ms. Peach fans, and, overcome with merriment at one particularly droll strip, they put down the morning paper and conceived little Adny (sic) right on the breakfast table! (Causing the elder Mr. Shernoff to miss his daily after-breakfast trek to the bathroom and resulting in the mature Adny’s fixation with anal goodies of all sorts.) Those 26-year-olds who dig Ralph J. Gleason and Ellen Sander obviously need guidance from someone who has taste and intelligence (despite his age) -someone like Adny. (sic)

You ought to apologise.

R. Milton Siegel (sic)

Wilmington, Ohio

ALL IN THE FAMILY

Is a Lester Bangs related to Harvey Wallbanger ?

J. Shlitz

Larchmont, N.Y.

(At arm’s length. - Ed.)

Resyour smoking review of my book.

It knocked me out. (And means a great deal to me.)

Thanks.

Maxene Fabe

N.Y., N.Y.

RUNDGREN & BARE IT

The Kid from Philadelphia is in my head. The Kid from Philadelphia is in my eyes. The Kid from Philadelphia is in my ears. The Kid from Philadelphia is in my voice. The Kid from Philadelphia is in my thoughts. The Kid from Philadelphia is in my style. Sure am glad that I can spell Philadelphia. Sure am glad that CREEM helps me glorify Rundgren madness. Please, hold it on the snail-fetishists. What are you, anyway? Todd’s magic is super-human and surpasses the over-sexed, over-BLOWN, over-hyped, and over-praised Kidz (i.e., Stones, Alice Cooper, fags, fags, and more fags). And now, as the woof in the April letters subjected all us CREEM’ers to what he insisted were not his own opinions (but really were — Top 20 - wow) I say that, even though I’m breathless, broke down and busted, once burned and twice removed, and even though I’m in the clique, Todd encompasses everything. Patti Smith. Fantastic. My opinions exactly. Does anyone want to transmit the international feel? Any personal observations on the Rundgrenesque times we are in? (And, subconsciously, always have been.) Please write it all down and send it, The beckoning call of a wizard, a true star awaits us all... believe in me.

Melanie Miller York, Pa.

DETER IORATUM

Lester Bangs is a “Fluke of the Universe” and he sure doesn’t know a fuckin’ thing about rock music! Seeing as how he believes that Jimmy Osmond is the real Lou Reed, why doesn’t he take a “Walk on the Wild Side” and try reviewing for a really heavy magazine ... like 16 maybe?

Personally, we feel that he should find a “CLEAR SPOT” and wander into it! And if he can’t dig it, we suggest that he take some advice from Steve Marriott and ... EAT IT! Sade Speed &

Sindy Sopor

Two Big-Eyed Beans

Venus

OUR GANG

Your magazine and writers (especially L. Bangs and P. Smith) are great, swell, good, o.k., excellent, unbelievable, cool, superior, groovy, perfect, amazing, far out, outsite, super, keen, neat, superb, magnificent, outstanding, friendly, right on, nice, spectacular, wonderful, tremendous, exciting, the best, sensational, terrific and even fantastic! Keep it up, there are a lot of people who couldn’t live without your mag every month! Namely me!

Tom Byrne E. Hanover, N.J.

(Thanx Tom, hey you oughta write for us, you overuse adjectives almost as much as Lester Bangs! - Ed.)

PANAMA RED FACE

We were sittin around gettin stoned in Panama getting into your Feb. 73 issue until we came upon your wasted Cirkiel review on TYA’s Rock and Roll Music to the World. We were so shocked we dropped the jays. Quote “Why is Ten Years After shit?” It sounds like this cricket dude knows as much about rock and roll as Doris Day does about bustin her nose. TRY AGAIN.

The Kid

The Bass

The Devel

Canal Zone

NICO COME BACK

Is there any truth to the rumor, spreading like wildfire among the dozens of her fans throughout the Western world, that Nico has sequestered herself in a Victorian castle somewhere in Brittany and is communicating only with the very young but boyishly beautiful girl who helps her with her monument-stone rubbings? If not, where the frick is her new record? As you will certainly recall, RCA is supposed to foot the bill for the next album, having signed Nico last spring as a sacrifice for world cultural advancement and Lou Reed. But nought new has been heard from across the frozen borderline.

You’d think all those trippy young fellows down at the RCA Experience would really be getting excited about Nico in their hell-forleather attempt to get their bunch of cult heroes into Time magazine articles. But no; no word about Nico. If RCA really cared about us cultists, they’d team Nico up with George (‘Black Angels’) Crumb, and put the resulting masterpiece in their classical catalogue. George Crumb is the composer John Cale imitates most often when he’s not imitating Bruckner, and Crumb’s already got a Time story about him so an album starring him and Nico might even make money.

Nico is the only real poet who ever existed in pop ^ music, and that includes all those goddam Canadians. (? -Ed.) Yeah, and she’s one hell more of a Woman than that nymphomaniac matshmallow currently enchanting all the West Coast with her overwrought lyrics and ‘Viking beauty.’

This letter reads like a Rolling Stone review but I’ll send it to you anyway.

R. Holmes

St. Louis, Mo.

(Currently Nico has no recording contract, and the last we heard she was in France making movies. -Ed.)

UNCLEAR SPOT

Question:

1. 20 pounds of chicken fat and a year’s supply of Charmin to the dude who can name the drummer on Trout Mask Replica.

2. Under the influence of how many gallons of Sunoco gasoline was Ed Ward when he reviewed 200 Motels last year?

3. Where can I write to D.V. Vliet?

Until 3 o’clock, gimme dat ol’ time religion.

Mrs. Ray Flicker

Crystal Hydrogen Falls

Fredonia, Mars

P.S. You’ll notice how I inserted clever little hip phrases referring to Capt. Beefheart just to get this letter printed!

(That’s some kind of achievement? Anyway, you can write to Cap care of Warner Brothers Records, Inc., 4000 Warner Blvd., Burbank, Calif. 91505. - Ed.)

THE WALRUS WAS KLEIN

PAUL LIVES!!! (Do you?)

John Sorenson Grand Island, Neb.

(Paul who? -Ed.)

CONTINUED ON PAGE 82.

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 10.

OUT OF THE CLOSET?

Lester Bangs does too have something to do with Rock-A-Rama. I have -enough evidence to get him well hung.

Greg Morton Monmouth, Ore.

THIS KID'S NO GROUPIE

I am writing this letter in all seriousness. I thought that I had better preface my letter with that to warn you that I am not some bizarre form of 12 year old homosexual male effeminate grouper who drools over Juke Box Jury at night in the bathroom. My name is Peter Holsapple and I am residing in the sleepy south. I just had to write to you, Greg Shaw, to thank you for existing. Were it not for Juke Box Jury, I would quickly recycle my monthly CREEM without hesitation.

My main cause in writing is to enquire as to whether you have your own personal fan club. I realize that more often than not, critics would not have their own, but in your case, locally at least, you have mustered up enough support to have swayed the vote in our community. I kid you not. There are some people who can quote entire entries in Juke Box Jury articles. If you do have a fan club, gimme the address. If not, can I start one? '

Peter Livingston Holsapple Winston-Salem, North Carolina (You bet, Pete! Greg’s already got a fan club, as do Robert Christgau, Lester Bangs, Dave Marsh, Jaan Uhelszki, Ed Ward, Robot Hull, Gary Kenton, Adny Shernoof, Chester the Conger Eel, Ralph J. Gleason, Jon Tiven, Ron Ross, Scott Fischer and Gary Von Tersch. To join just specify which of the above is your fave rave, and send your name and address along with $75 to Al Aronowitz, P.O. Box 202, Walled Lake, Mi. 48088. For each time you enter, you get a secret decoder ring and free copy of The Rolling Stone Record Review Book. So act now. - Ed.)

Goddamn if ya didn’t steal my big scoop right away from me. Yeah, I picked up on Death Rock a while back - after readin’ someone’s review of Reds last fall in your big Sopor Special (fuck you, I think they’re swell), I knew that D.R. was the kind of puke that would appeal to the drug-degenerated minds at CREEM. Anyway, you missed out on some good parts - Joni Mitchell (“everybody’s sweetheart,” it says here); the most ptomaine sex I’ve enjoyed since The Girlfriend’s Mother, i.e., Mick Jagger: “Poppa’s hungry. Let poppa see what you’ve got under that blonde fur.”; and there’s even a chick who sounds like she looks like David Bowie!

Hey thanks for the Iggy Pop review — all my friends think it sucks, so I tape copies of it to their doors. Fuck ’em! Keep up the good sleaze.

Everybody else got their top ten in, so here’s my top four:

1. Wine of the year: Mad Dog 20/20, “wine of the century” says on the label, and I’ve only puked behind it once!

2. Snuff of the year: Copenhagen, “the Tobacco Chew Men Like Best,” contrary to R. Meltzer’s fucked-up opinion, if he can’t hold it what kinda man is he?

3. Drug of the year: a photo finish between quaaludes and hash oil, ludes gettin’ the call on accessibility superiority.

4. TV show of the year — Championship Wrestling.

Billy

Wissler I Ro thole

Bloomington, Indiana

Come off it. Who’s going to believe The Queen’s Vernacular: A Gay Lexicon is published by “Straight” Arrow? By the way, I love your magazine — continue the effort. Thanks,

“Diane”

Nashville, Tenn.

Please tell Mr. Marsh that I agree with him 100% on his choice of Rod Stewart’s Never A Dull Moment for Number One record. Even if Rod did lose to Jagger in Playboy’s Male Vocalist category (stupid faggot bunnies!) if Stewart plays soccer as well as he gold lames it, he could wipe Jagger’s ass in the gymnastics category any Sat. afternoon at the Gardens.

Rod Stewart seems very nice. I suppose that must make Dave Marsh sort of all right too, eh? (Unless he’s a faggot bunny? Don’t answer that.)

HEY. I wonder if Dave’s soccer balls are just as pretty as the old pro’s. (Don’t answer that either.)

Yours truly,

Lynne Albanese

Niagara Falls, Canada