MAIL

MAIL

Please send letters to: MAIL Dept.,CREEM Magazine P.O. Box P-1064, Birmingharh, Ml 48012

BABEL’S ON FIRE

Ever since I purchased your monthly containing a review of Elton’s new disc, there is one point I have been mulling over. How can “Tower of Babel” be “certainly” about the death of Robbie McIntosh, when he died in September, and Elton and Bernie composed the songs for Captain Fantastic in July, while on a cruise? It raises questions, such as “Gan1 Taupin foresee the future?,” “Do I have my facts wrong?,” and, as someone less delicate than I would put it, “How the fuck does Wayne Robins get the authority to say what a song is ‘certainly’ about when he can’t even get the lyrics straight?” However, I would never say something as coarse as that.

Insincerely yours,

Esmerela Tittarelli

Cockshire, Middlingsex

(“Can’t you take a joke?”—Wayne)

BARRY WHITE: SPLIT BANANA?

I was just looking through my old pileof shit (records), through the Monkees, and the Critters!?, and then I came upon a real surprise, which could turn out to be an important piece of trivia for certain people. I have an old BananaSplits record and one of the songs on it was “Doin’ the Banana Split.” 1 was nuts over the stupid song (about ? years ago), and I remember it being real funky for those days with lots and lots of “Uh’s” and a big, deep, black voice grunting all the time. Well guess who, ferchrissakes, wrote and performed this Banana shit? Barry White! He was a superstar ba$k then, except we thought he was Drooper, Fleeple, or Snorkle.

A.C.

Akron, Ohio

(Can there be truth to this vile canard, sportsfans?—Ed.)

WE DON’T, HONEST

Since in my mind the difference between B + and B is the difference between maybe buy and don’t buy, be hereby informed that both Dizzy Gillespie and Anthony Braxton should’ve received B + ’s in the September Consumer Guide. America’s only rock ‘n’ roll typesetters must have something against jazz.

Robert Christgau

New York, N.Y.

NEW IMAGE

I would like some information on the movie Jungle Music which was produced by Col. Tom , Parker and Dick Clark. Will'the movie ever be released if so when. If the movie isn’t going to be released why not.

Thank you,

Mis Darlene Martin

Baltimore, Md.

(It will be released sometime early in 1976, produced by Joseph E. Levine and starring Rick Wakeman, and retitled The Todd Rundgfen Story.— Ed.)

DIRTY LOOKS

Hi, I’ve got some problems. 1 am:

1. 16,

2. in love with a rock star, ‘

3. moody,

4. like groups that all of my friends hate,

5. resemble a certain rock star but would like to resemble him more and can’t seem to achieve it.

6. (This is the clincher) My parents are very over protective ahd even when I try to look like that certain person, they yell and tell me 1 need a shrink.-

If you were in my position, what would you do? (Running away won’t help.)

Depressed,

The Pink Eel

Santa Anita, Calif.

(Try to look like Morton Subotnik. —Ed.)

WHAT AIN'T TO BE, JUST MIGHT HAPPEN

Ho-hum. Rock rolls on, with many new (yawn) and exciting (zzz) breakthroughs, but some things you’ll NEVER see:

Robert Plant doing a commercial for Fruit of the Loom jockey briefs.

Bryan Ferry posing nude for Roxy’s next album cover.

Jimmy Page marrying Miss Pamela with John Cale as best man.

The Mael brothers producing a Joni Mitchell album (yodel-yodel-warble-warble).

Patti Smith writing liner notes for a new Dylan LP.

A Nico Sings the Blues LP.

Linda McCartney displaying some talent.

And last but not least, Lester Bangs admitting he’s jaded.

So much for my comedy writing aspirations. See ya on the autobahn—varroom!

Annette Palazzo

Long Island City, Queens

New York

(Yeah,, they said that about a Bob Dylan album with four versions of the same song. —Ed.)

PROPHECY?

While some people have thought of Dylan as being a prophet and others have regarded him as a burned-out dude* I should like to present a vision of the Lester Bangs-Lou Reed interview:

“Now he’s the king of the drunks

An’ he squeezes, too

Watch out, Lester

Take it, Lou

Join the monks...”

(C) 1967 Dwarf Music

This is from “Tiny Montgomery,” a song about the San Franciscan scene as all true Dylan cultists are aware. The question here is, why did He mention those two deprived, rocked out androids...in a song about Haight-Ashbury?

Young American

Teenage News Studios

Garden City, N.Y.

THE DORKATTHETOPOFTHE STAIRS

Unlike, certain letters I have written to CREEM and other rags in the past (all under different names) this is a True Story. >

Or at least a true fragment of a dream 1 had this morning. Most of it had to do with me and my current fucked up situation (confirmed alcoholic, unemployed, stuck living with my barely tolerable parents) but never mind, at one crucial point I saw at the top of the staircase of my parents’ house, none other than LOU REED, clad in nothing more than boxer undershorts, his yellow dyed hair and .shades, playing with and throwing down the stairs these funny white inchworms with red plastic jackets (actually they were almost a foot long each), which proceeded to go around biting my parents, friends, relatives, cat and others who were visiting.

Next I had what seemed to be a dream within a dream: I had beaten Lou comatose and was then arrested by the local police, and had a brief vision of the staff at CREEM absolutely aghast at this. Think you would be, after Lou’s recent track record?

Yours,

Borax Thrush

Seattle, Wash.

(That’s nothing, you should see the dreams Lou has about you. — Ed.)

NEW BLOOD COUNT

Why don’t any of your writers write about new artists? Why not tell your readers something they don’t already know? Why don’t you tell us about Zolar X, the Dictators, Television, or Christ I’d even settle for something about Kim Fowley, and he’s been around for years. I want to hear about new sounds and new faces. 1 want to hear about PROGRESS and variations on the music scene today. 1 mean the. Stones never change, neither do the Allman Bros., or Jefferson Starship/Airplane. These people are stagnating the whole concept of music. And rock magazines are directly at fault because they encourage this type of musical practice. I mean, look what writers did to Bowie. It used to be every time he came out with a new album, you could count oiysomething new and different, now we get remixed Jackson Five. (Ziggy Stardust won’t you please come home.)

So if you guys could get your, writers to write about new musicians then readers would become aware of them and music could be saved from repetitious boredom and you codld prevent a lot of people from going crazy if you know what imena n idklncksoroceolselskladlsklsdlsdlsd jfilao jilll jaidl high tree eingosn enoso gheoixnshoslhhi 8338cb31sh 09 (JFBNLEGHE&XN MONKEES GR1NXHE OSH HSOEN ROCK OADTHE1 INXN ONHSLSDJEIJWESLEYH11HTREEJIM1 DICKEY SAWWELKERJOANNETOOJOI WOWWOK1ENXK&EXKZNSKEJEV4&V3&V3# † V4tW& y3#1/3* V3V4*&S !/3* † #? Vs ISYOUR1 NAME.

Sincerely,

The Phantom of the Turntable

Gallatin, Missouri

(Watch for upcoming CREEM features on, among other new lights, Television and—hopefully—the Dictators. —Ed.)

MAINMAN’S NEXT ARTISTE?

Reading Beethoven’s Biography nostaligically, as I have studied the great old man since childhood; I, nonetheless, have learned new depth and dimension from his lifeworks in bookform.

Perhaps it was his influential music in my early years that led me to look up to greater heights and prosperity.

Having just completed and already sent my first in Concerte’ tape entitled “IDOLATRY” to RCA, I, excitedly await its reaction.

Maybe, tod, because I took the time to study and analyse the Rock Starres in today’s Era, both theologically and sadly to say, because of big bad Caesar, psychiatrically . r

As a theologian, I much prefer tpe former.

On my homefrofit, I entertain nightly at local Lounges—with new prospects in the future.

As an avid reader of CREEM Magazine, and a staunch supporter of its ‘workers’—my very best to all of you.

Sincerely,

Saundra Faye

Mount Braddock, Penna.

(Uh, thanks. Ms. Faye also sent her picture. - Ed.)

Sir:

ON THE HORIZON

Some pictures of jazz guitarist and compose^ Percy Gibbon, Canadian artist. Your magazine is great.

Thank you,

Edwards Management,

for Percy Gibbon

Quebec City, P.Q.

DEFINITIVITY

I’d like to ask ya a couple of questions. Number one: What kind of music does IGGY & THE STOQGES, WAYNE COUNTY, THE NEW YORK DOLLS, TELEVISION & THE HEARTBREAKERS play? Number two: Which of these groups have any albums?

Sincerely,

A curious fan

Waco, Texas

(1. They play Squinge Music; 2. When they make albums, they die. — Ed.)

UP THE TUBES

I just read Lester Bangs’ article (computer readout?) on Kraftwerk. You’re right,' Lester, the possibilities of such zork are endless. I can see it now, the next big thing, X-15, with their album CX4-25 with their hit single Ahh yes— 777777/ mpht?...huh?.. .oh yeah, as I was saying, the lineup would be: an aerosol can of V05 on bass, a 1969 Hocker-Green Belvedere on drums/clank, an electric clock/radio lead singer , an electronic calculator on other band members and a broken thermostat on itself. All produced by an IBM computer model X4199XZ479888XT111 shuttle 4 2-x—8. Among their groupies would be broken light bulbs, discarded freezers, and rusted aerials. 1, personally, will lead revolt onto such monsters who dare take our precious sky and and and and and...

Ecstatically rezound,

Steve Feikes

Android Belt v y

Bellevue, Outerspace

Code npt permitted P.S. Matilda Mother was npt a robot.

D’YOUSEX MACHINA?

Regarding your Kraftwerkfeature in your Sept. 75 issue: Lester Bangs must look at circuit boards while he jacks off or something. Why is he unable to comprehend the simple and obvious fact that Krapwerk bites it?

I mean, what is all this shit about having some computer play Chuck Berry lines? Who gives a flying fuck whether some cyborg can play them perfectly? The point is: CAN IT THINK THEM UP? No! It can’t! Krautwerk has shown about as much originality as a bar of soap. Not only can any idiot play that air-conditioner noise that passes for music, but any idiot can think it up!

Humans, rule!

Ed Homeij, Jr.

San Diego, Calif.

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MASKED BALL

I played Funhouse by the Stopges at a street party ahd everybody danced!! Just to be safe I told everybody it was Black Oak Arkansas.

Very yoursly,

G. Hunt Esquire

Clawson, Mich.

The City That Eats Its Young (Next time try playing Metal Machine Music and telling them it’s Tomita. —Ed.)

TURN TO PAGE 98.

Mail

CONTINUED FROM PAGE ll.

EXCERPT FROM A KISSFAN’S LETTER . .Next he invited me in his room. From talking to him I think I got to know him pretty good, he’s a really honest person. He even told me he was on an ego trip, but then so am I. He definitely likes musk oil, that he didn’t have to tell me. I also drank Kijafa wine (one of his favorites), it’s pretty good! He also has a strange habit of actually growling when he kisses you. He’s also a Virgo. Spending the night with him was a fun, crazy, but fantastic experience. Also a fairly good lover.

R.C.

Muscatine, Iowa

, SIC TRANSIT (CONTD)

I just toqk my Mick Jagger poster off my wall for two reasons: 1) The other day when my door was open, two chicks walked by, stared at it, sneered and one said, “There’s that fag who sings ‘Young Americans,”’ and 2) my roommate just asked me if it was a picture of (ready for this?) Sonny Bono!

S.M.

L.A., Cal.

MAGMA HEAD WIGS OUT Lester you hopeless asshole! If you’re going to keep the youth of Amqrika inforrried of the latest (and actually they’re not that new) European avant-garde—please do get your facts straight!

Although their language KOBIAN resembles German somewhat, Magma are a French band... and a very unique one at that! So there!

Babs the Camera

Paris Hilton ■ 1

P.S. I’d like you to interview the Wombles...oh pleeze!? ..

(Lester: “Wanna see a one-eared elephant?)

DREEM MATES

1 just had the strangest dream. I dreamed that I was backstage at Madison Square Garden during a Jobriath concert, when in staggered Lisa Robinson, splattered in blood screaming, “I just want it known that I came in third behind John Bonham in the Playboy readers’ poll!” and passed out at my feet.

Meanwhile Patti Smith came rushing in wjth a handful of vintage 26 magazines and started handing them out to everyone in the room. I asked if she was going to give one to Lisa !(who was still lying on the floor) but Patti merely looked down and said, “Who? Her? She couldn’t last ten minutes with a Stooges number,” and started to autograph the copy of 16 she had given me, signing the name “Gloria Stavers” under every photo of Todd Rundgren that she could find. While all of this was happening I couldn’t help but notice that, although I was standing right next to Lou Reed, only I was reflected in the giant makeup mirror directly behind us. I was about to ask Lou about aH this when all of a sudden Jeff Beck and Jimmy Page came through the door leading to the stage.

Around Jeffs neck was a giant silver cross that sent flecks of white light around the room, and upon seeirig the cross, Lou began cursing loudly and started to change into a huge bat that Would’ve looked like any ordinary bat except for the nailpolisK and shades. The bat that was Lou darted for the stage dbor, but Jimmy Page managed to stop it by throwing his guitar at the winged creature striking it right through the heart and pinning it to the door instead. As he pulled his guitar out of the bat, it dissolved into a heap of white powder on the floor. “I should’ve don6 this years ago,” Page muttered to himself as he collected the powder in a small Glad bag.

Looking over his shoulder was Brian Jones (which I thought rather odd, after all, why would Brian Jones be at a' Jobriath concert in the first place?), who was writing something on a‘postcard. Upon looking closely, I could make out a small diagram of a swimming pool in somebody’s backyard. When I asked whose pool it was, Brian turned to answer, but stopped all of a sudden. His eyes were wide with fear and he was clearly looking over my shoulder at something. I turned to see what he was looking at, but all 1 could see was a cardboard cutout of Mick Jagger and Keith Richard dressed in swim suits with towels over their shoulders grinnirg hideous sfniles.

Under the cutout (which I surmised was a promotional ad of some sort) was a small clump of seaweed that formed the words “You can’t get away with murder.” What does it all mean?

Yours truly,V

Andro Jenny

Toronto, Ontario, Canada (It means you should be boiled alive for having a dream without Iggy in it. —Ed.)

FRESH AIR

I decided to write a letter to CREEM magazine that I thought for sure you would print. I decided, however, that I would not juse nonsense language, obscenities, multiple choice questions, comments to Lester Bangs, hip words like wasted, dork, faggot, Lou Reed etc!, no references to sex or related activities, misspelled words, Boy Howdys or any of the other devices used by the usual CREEM writing sickies. And you know what? I couldn’t think of anything to say.

I’ll keep thinkin’. ^

GAP MIJ .

. Somewhere beyond all others (You did fine,—Ed.)