MAIL

MAIL

Please send letters to:

MAIL Dept., CREEM Magazine P.O. Box P-1064, Birmingham, Ml 48012

BOY HOWDY? DEAR CREEM One nite while listening to my Ziggy album someone entered my room, it wuz “Boy Howdy”. He said, “I just dropped by to say I just married!!!” I said that’s great who’s the lucky woman??? Then she walked in MS. HOWDY!!! “Wow!!”

So CREEM, if you haven’t seen this chick yet here (enclosed in this letter) is a picture of the one in only “MS. HOWDY.?’

Chris Carter Wayne, N.J,

P.S. YOU MUST PRINT HER PICTURE SO THE ROCK WORLD CAN SEE HER.

WE ARE ALL STARPACUS Lester, you know it: “Is not every rock writer a frustrated rock star?” You betcha, and I’m glad that a member of our not-highly-enoughtouted phyla was able to render a fewriffs onstage with an outfit the likes of Peter Wolf and Co.

Now, if we could only pair R. Meltzer with Blue Oyster Cult, Greg Shaw with the Sweet, Mark Shipper with Ted Nugent, Mr. Bear with Queen, and Ed Ward with the Greenbriar Boys! Maybe Mr. Bangs would consent to a subsequent appearance with Sweet Baby James, utilizing the new SmithCorona mute and wah-wah tabulator keys. Check it out!

I’m waiting for the day when Peter “Cheeseburger” Tomlinson will be sought by McDonald’s to type commercials for TV. It’s all relative, you know.

It’s just a peck away,

Cary Baker Chicago, Ill.

THESE DREAMS OF LOU Is Lou Reed Lou Reed’s real name? I had a dream in which Andy Warhol told me it’s actually a pun on “lurid.”

Yours ludicrously, -S.I. Bejesus Oblivion Corners

Somewhere deep in the stomach of New Jersey

P.S. Robot Hull should be replaced with a sewing machine.

(Andy lied, as usual; Lou’s real name is Bufch Firbank: -Ed.)

SAY WHAT?

Lleh ni vskcuc Eiwob dna, dnoces esolc a snur Nirze Bob, erehwyna recudorp nmad tseb eht si Nergdnur Ddot.

Wouldn’t you say?

Yours dubiously,

Regan McNeil Georgetown, U.S.A.

P.S. Is it really true that Boy Howdy and Captain Howdy are related?

(?boj muh a tuoba Woh '-Ed.)

A REAL HARD CHARGER I know what’s going on; one of you guys is taking all the letters I send you and instead of putting them in the letters column you’re going to plagiarize them into one dynamite article on the state of rock and walk away with the Rock Writer of the Year.

Shit, I write you guys all the time. Whattsamatteryou, have I got too much insight for ya? Do I need to say something cutesy-dumb like “You know, if you squint your eyes just right, Frank Zappa looks exactly like Cat Stevens?” Next one I’m. sending is going to explain why it’s ridiculous to speak about the Next Big Thing in terms of ten year cycles (Sinatra, Presley, Beatles) because those Old Big Things were all a matter of successive generations willing to be an integral part of something New, whereas the present roster of rock fans is made up of fifteen yea? old lobotomized consumers.

Cheeez, that wds more fun than breaking Jethro Tull records.

Eddie Mole Roseburg

(1 wouldn’t walk across the street with the Rock* Writer of the Year. —Ed.)

MAE WEST SHE AIN'T I’d like to note that Dave Marsh’s review on Hollywood Girls was about as true as Rodney Bigenheimer becoming president of the U.S. Dave baby, you’re becoming as stale as a loaf of molded bread. You see boys and girls, the part about me (Sabel Starr) was written long ago. So you see Dave, within a years time my chest isn’t exactly as flat as you say, my butt, in fact is better than David JoHansen’s. And Darling I never had acne. As I recall when Johnny and I saw you in Times Square with your young male companion - and Honey you ain’t so hot yourself, it seems your ears have grown at least 3 inches since the last time we met. So you better watch what you say, or you bez be at the dance' down on 14th St. ya hear, cause there’s gonna be a showdown.

Nice day for a murder,

Sabel

P.S, Ha ha I won the Chest Arama contest!

(Shaddup ya ole bag. -Ed.)

NO MENOPAUSE FOR THIS CHICKADEE I would like to know how to become a zany groupie. I am 48 years old but well preserved,

I have no time for wrinkles, Clearasil does wonders for my acne. If anyone knows a good dermatologist please contact Grannys Cat House 774-9600.

Zitty but Proud Cocca Mo Flu.

(Leastways you’s ripe. -Ed.)

HOLLYWOOD GALS WON'T YA STAY IN TONITE

The girls of Hollywood my ass! What a bunch of queers! They seem to think that they are the hottest things around. Well, just for the hell of it, I polled a bunch of typical Eastern Coast sleazoid guys and gals for their reaction to this. Here goes:

54%... sic

22% ... definitely going through those trying adolescent years

21%... do their parole officers know about this?

3% ... uh ... what... yea, I’m for anything that will get Nixon'out.

Just goes to show what us rich Easterners think. Oh yea, I also got me a cousin in England (Coventry, to be exact) whom I occasionally send a copy of this rag, and she said it was one of the funniest articles ever, especially the part about how they thought their styles come from England.

Cousins et al in Connecticut -

ROCK DREAMS RACKED UP When I’d seen the painting from the cover for Bowie’s Diamond Dogs, I’d just completely flipped. Before I’d gotten my feet back on the ground, you hit me with your July article on Rock Dreams and pictures of more of Guy Peelaert’s art magic. Well, I haven’t come down yet, and now I’ve got to get that book!! So couldja please supply me with any and all information you might have as to how I might purchase the book?

Your super CREEM fan,

Gary Silvertsein

Canoga Park, Calif.

(The book was published by Popular Library in September. -Ed.)

POOCHOFEUAC

I have NEVER ventured out of TV land to write to a magazine but your recent Bowie Look Alike contest jblted me into at least TRYING to get thru to you. I KNOW that it is NOT a magazine’s policy to give out private information about anyone that appears between its pages but please PLEASE PLEASE! couldn’t you just tell me how I can get in touch with that truly ASTRAL DOG, the one who won one of the places in the Bowie contest, the one with+he collar of blood-stained LUNAR LAME that he obviously got for tearing apart an invader from a Japanese Science Fiction film and is now wearing proudly as a trophy. Good show!

That dog has set my blood rushing and heart pounding and I WILL NOT BE SATISFIED until that Proud Pooch is lapping at MY front door! Besides, being gay is sort of boring, being bisexual is only for those devout followers of Newsweek Magazine and straight heterosexuality is something I plan to grow up to and never get old enough for. I would like to come out of another closet and literally go to the dogs, at least go to THAT dog, the one with the Ziggy Stardust in his eyes, he’s MY type of K9!

Please rush a bio, a couple of enterprising (pant pant) snapshots and any other (personal) information to .me; if he can’t rule ALL of outer space at least he could rule ALL of my heart.

Fetchingly yours in trembling anticipation,

LA LA LA LANCE LOUD

NYC

P.S. I forgot to mention that I would be very interested in letting him join my band, if he can do a little vocal work and perhaps search and destroy hecklers in the audience. That’s all I need.

Iggy Pop look out!!! Woof woof Lance XXX (Sorry, pal, that info’s CLASSIFIED. How about Mighty Manfred? He needs the money. -Ed.)

16 & UNSAVAGED

Glad to see that Bangs reviewed the two best (so far) albums of the year: “Stranded” and “Too Much Too Soon.” But I can’t tell whether he liked the Dolls or'not. Believe me, Lester, the only reason I think I’m tough is that I haven’t gotten laid yet and come this

TURN TO PAGE 98.

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 10.

August I’ll be 16. THAT’S what the Dolls are about & that’s why I love ‘em.

J.K.

Queens, N.Y.

P.S. Roxy are great too but I saw them recently & I couldn’t relate to them; too elegant. C’est la vie.

COMPARISON

Would someone tell Johnny Thunder of the N.Y. Dolls to remove the lead wieghts from his crotch? Sure he fooled Sable Starr, but Jim Dandy has him whipped in the stuffing department. Poor Johnny.

Crystal Ball Peoria, Illinois

(What ever happened to the Jagger jocksock? -Ed.) j

ANOTHER SOUL SAVED CREEM Magazine — it’s been so long since I had any nooky, that out of my sheer desire to survive, I have become somewhat of a conoisseur of the vicarious sexual thrill. No peeping Tom mind you, I peruse so-called “Underground” funny books with a vengeance. (Squilch, porp, gablorf!) My reading material also includes the Janus series (their issue on spanking and caning is noteworthy) and Nazi racial pornography (Headline from “Der Sturmer,” Berlin, 1937 - “Jews & Slavs Molest Aryan School Girls, Lurid Details Inside”). As a modicum of good taste still prevails within me, I disdain stroke mags (Playboy, Penthouse, Out) and their cheezee imitators {Dude, Gent, etc.). What does all this talk of formerly taboo pix have to do with you? Only that your full-color photo of Maria Muldaur has so unnerved me (crawl, you worm!) that “I am moving to the city to improve my chances.” So here’s to healthy pursuits, and glossies of red-blooded earth women.

Dick Brown Detroit, Mich.

P.S. Do you have Henry Gross’s home address? I’m looking for a rock ‘n’ roll pen pal that writes in Yiddish.

A WEASEL, A TRUE FAN Five years ago, when I was in Hi school, I read ROLLING STONE and thought it was the cat’s meow. Now that I’ve grown up and dropped qjit of College, I’m a CREEM man. Not that I take your mongoloid opinions any more seriously than I do RS’s (I mean Broken Barricades the best Procol Harum album? Or Cum and - brf - Get Yer Luhv the best single around? Shew), but at least you clowns don’t take yourselves seriously. Those turds who write for RS really believe that worthless tripe they spew out. Most likely they regard themselves as perceptive sociocultural observers. But you guys is ok. Where else could I read eighty pages of lobotomized illiterates trying to imitate R. Meltzer every month? Who else would print a non-interview with Blacchh Sabbath (the best kind actually) which employs a Jim Croce reference as an intellectual insight? What other rokrag would feature Grace Slick complaining that she’s got no tits? Who else has reviewers that really, with all their hearts, think Kiss is a nifty band? Where else could I read that one of the scumbags from Emerson, Lake & Palmer thinks Charles Mingus (a man whose feces he is not fit to chew) stinks? Such wisdom doesn’t happen by my door every day. Some day I might even subscribe to your highly esteemed periodical instead of putting it under my shirt, but only if you start printing pix of females with 40” jugs like DUDE or shots of bloody faces like WRESTLING REVIEW. Yep, you guys is ok..

Mutantly yrs,

Lou Stathis

Flushing (no jokes), N.Y.

BRYAN FERRY WANTS YOU Could I let your readers know through your mail column of the existence of the fan club of Roxy Music?

It costs $2 a year, and members get a newsletter every quarter, badge, poster, photo, merchandise offers and competitions and info on the individual solo efforts by the group’s members.

I hope you can help to increase our U.S. membership list.

Kind regards,

Peter Leay 9 Sunbury Rd.

Wallasey

Merseyside L44 9BD England

YOU'VE COME A LONG WAY, CRETIN Yes, all men are weasels. And baby everybody does know it.

“I’ll cut your nuts off you cretins” is a great line for a band of women trying to be a band of men. Lester my sweet, those are a man’s sensibilities, not a woman’s. As for jumping into the audiences and beating up the men, well, those too are male perceptions. Woman’s music is for me, Joy of Cooking, Sister Moon and Alix Dobkin/Lavender Jane. Woman’s music, women’s lyrics, women’s sensibilities. Ah yes, I understand.

I think you give Helen Reddy more credit than she’s earned right now. Her material could use some radicalization, some force and probably better musical direction. She, like Joan Baez has been limited to or is limiting herself to a musical form which doesn’t suit her voice. Comprende?

So, Bangs my friend, as one sister to another if you hear a band of women singing,

“I’ll cut off your nuts you cretins I’ll slice your wang dang doodle in two I’ll divorce you from your face you stooge

Dats right, you gotta alot -to Lose”*

Do let me know.

* Original lyric by L. Bangs, other lyrics by N. Heredia.

Nancy Heredia,

New York, N,Y.

(Bangs: “I’ve Heard about you Nances; wanna start a band and record for Casablanca?”)