THE BEAT GOES ON

THE BEAT GOES ON

Slick Spews It Out

NEW YORK—Earl Slick was not only the guitarist whose licks scorched through David Bowie’s Station To Station album (“Anything good on that album is mine,” he says); he had the je ne sais quoi to quit his $3,000 a week gig with Bowie and strike out with a band of his own. Currently on tour with that band, having released a Capitol album that hasn’t really taken off, Slick took time out to chat with us backstage at a recent concert.

CREEM: Okay Slicky, if Bowie is a mystic-oriented rock star then how come he won’t get in an airplane?

SLICK: Well asshole, if you’d listen to Ziggy Stardust then you’d know about these things. The “Five Years” is up in January ’77, and the man starts flyin’.

CREEM: How’d you meet Bowie?

SLICK: Through Michael Kamen. Michael used to play with me in the New York Rock and Roll Ensemble.

CREEM: You might say that you went from obscurity to Mick Ronson’s successor overnight.

SLICK: Hey look, I don’t take that kind of an attitude. I’ve always been Earl Slick, and that’s good enough. As for the Ronson shit, Mick and I are best friends. Most people don’t know this but we originally were both gonna work with Bowie when I first was introduced to them. But Mick couldn’t take his egomania anymore.

CREEM: David says he played all the guitar on the Diamond Dogs LP.

SLICK: Yah, except for “1984,” that was Alan Parker.

CREEM: How about on Station To Station?

SLICK: Any guitar that’s any good on there is mine. I played about 90%. That’s my fuckin’ album.

CREEM: What caused the actual split?

SLICK: Disco and Patrick Gibbons, his mousey advisor. It was bad enough takin’ orders from Bowie, but when I had to start listening to that fuckin’ weasel Gibbons, that was the end of the rope.

CREEM: How do you mean?

SLICK: Bowie got fucked over at MainMan by Tony DeFries. I thought he wised up, but things got worse with Gibbons. I never got to see him. I’d plug in and plug out. It was like any other job, monotonous. His managers rigged it so that anybody doin’ him any good, myself included, never got to see him.

CREEM: So you attribute the breakup primarily to managerial problems?

SLICK: That and his disco infatuation, which nearly killed me. Bowie suckered himself. He stole “Fame” from James Brown. It’s a song originally titled “Funky Music.” He stole it and gave the writing credits to himself, Lennon and Carlos Alomar. He also stole “Win.” I don’t remember the original.

CREEM: So you lost respect for him?

SLICK: Here was the most prolific songwriter in rock bein’ controlled by gophers and usin’ the cheapest artform (disco) in existence. Pathetic. I mean Bowie made Lou Reed, who’s a nothin’ otherwise.

They’re Better To Step On

SEATTLE — In what was probably the most irrelevant sports result of the season, young Ed McMeel devoured 154 black ants in three minutes to win the ant-eating contest given by the Parks Dept., “to show that many things can be eaten in the woods for survival.”

All right, fair enough — I won’t ask why — but would you care to have a meaningful conversation with a kid who has anteater breath?

Rick Johnson

New Concept In U.S. Space Program

CAPE KENNEDY—Government officials have announced that the newest mode of manned space travel will consist of simply having the astronauts sit on the outside of the capsule. "There are still a few bugs in the seating system," admitted a Space Center spokesman. "Apparently when the rocket gets going all those millions of miles per hour, 'squeezing your legs together' doesn't always keep the passengers attached to the ship." Six members of George Clinton’s Parliament/Funkadelic musical conglomerate have volunteered to be the first passengers in an effort to gain publicity for their records. And to think it all started with a chimpanzee.

Whatever Happened To...

Sable Starr?! (Not that anybody really gives two toots, but at least it's as good an excuse as any to slip some good ol "T&A" Into the mag.) The one-time famous L.A. groupie has relocated her talent in New York as, unseemingly enough, a topless dancerl The question is whether any of her "Big Rock Star" friends feel the loss of her special abilities? A survey of a popular English foursome disclosed nothing but a rather large collection of strangely soiled plates.

CREEM: So when was it that you actually quit Bowie?

SLICK: This past fall. I was back home with Jimmie [Jimmie Mack — lead singer and rhythm guitarist for the Earl Slick Band], we’ve been friends for twelve years. We played in rock bands together in high school. Anyway, I was supposed to leave for Jamaica. David was over there. We were supposed to do some big tour dates. I got to the airport in Los Angeles, called Jimmie and told him that we were gonna start our own band.

CREEM: You just never showed up?

SLICK: Good thing. Bowie finished the tour without me, and got busted in Rochester . If I was with him I’d a gone to jail.

CREEM: What was your favorite Bowie tour?

SLICK: Diamond Dogs. Jesus, come on Fats, you can do better, than that [alluding to Leslie West, who was reverberating through the walls]. That was a great tour. We were the greatest rock act in existence then. After that it was all downhill.

CREEM: Did you get along in the studio?

SLICK: Bowie likes to be surrounded by mental inferiors. That sort of bothered me, but it was his band. And I got to play lots of guitar.

CREEM: Okay, you hate Lou Reed and Leslie West. You’re from New York too. Who do you like there, the Dictators? Ramones?

SLICK: The Dictators were terrible. I don’t know anything about the Ramones. I won’t name any contemporaries. I’d rather listen to Benny Goodman.

CREEM: What American rock guitarists do you like?

The Child Is The Voice Of The Man

HOLLYWOOD-You know those cute little Opie-faced voices that you always hear singing in the bakcground of TV commercials? The ones with touching little lisps and difficulty in pronouncing their R’s?

Well, they’re not kids, but professional session singers whose specialty is imitating childrens’ voices in the studio. One such nutless is Raymond Andres, who has tweeted in blurbs for people like Nestle’s, Campbell’s, Oscar Meyer, and nearly every cereal extant.

Why does he choose to make a career out of making TV watchers nauseous with his vile nasal whines? “It’s a living,” he says, “and it can SLICK: None really. Ronnie Montrose is a motherfucker. He’s technically a great guitarist. But Jesus, as a performer, he’s awful.

CREEM: How did you organize your new band?

SLICK: Jimmie and I are old friends like I told you. Gene is a mutual friend and Bryan used to drum for Stories. Ian Lloyd broke that up last year and Bryan needed a job.

CREEM: Any final comments on Bowie?

SLICK: Yah. Bowie owns a huge mansion. I don’t own a house. Three thousand bucks a week is nothin’ if your heart ain’t in it. When the industry controls the artist you finally reach a point where you can no longer call yourself an artist. That’s happened to Bowie, and it’s sad.

Tony Mastrianni

be very lucrative besides. His collection of antique toys which decorate his penthouse attest to the fact, being valued at over $30,000.

Any plans for a singing career in his own voice? “Oh sure, I’ve got a pretty good middle-ranged voice when I’m not doing commercial sessions. I’ve done some supper clubs and that sort of thing.” He claims somewhat unconvincingly that some of today’s stars — including Paul Williams and Barry Manilow — started out this way.

Now to find out who sings those godawful catfood commercials.

Rick Johnson

It Jez Don’t Measure Up!

Bonnie Raitt, boisterous folk/ blues songstress, recently revealed an up-to-now well kept secret of the recording industry. Seems Bonnie had Intended to give up her solo career in order to become the bass playing member of a certain world famous rock group but she couldn't quite cut the mustard tongue-wise! After the auditions the choice came down to either Bonnie or this real tall guy with fuzzy black hair wearing a bat suit. The producer said all right now, let's see your tongues, so they both stuck them out. He got one look at Mr. Bat Suit's horse dong tonsil-gouger and went nuts. The producer was probably latent anyway, but apparently Raitt's pudgy little popsicle ticker just didn't have any stage presence.

Can He Play “Wipe Out”?

WASHINGTON, D.C. — The winner of the National Spelling Bee held here in June emerged victorious by correctly spelling the word narcolepsy. What does this say about our nation’s future?

Rick Johnson

QUARTERBACK SNEAK

This is Terry Bradshaw. For all you football nonbuffs, he be quarterback for the Pittsburge Steelers, who be THE WORLD'S CHAM¶ PEEN TEAM. So, howsoever a man be good at one calling, soothwith may he excel at another. Remember the movie Phil Spector was gonna direct In Mexico? Remember Mick Jagger's long roster of cinematic starring roles:? Remember The Mac Davis Show? These be Renaissance days, pall So we congratulate Terry in his new career as wandering acoustic pigskin slide bluesman! Three cheers and twelve bars for the Champ!

Exorcist Wanted: No Experience Necessary

WASHINGTON, D C. — Rock ‘n’ roll will never die, right? But what about its heroes? They die, don’t they? One might have thought so, but as rumors of visitations from rock ‘n’ roll heaven proliferate one begins to wonder.

So far Jim Morrison has reappeared at least three times, sticking around long enough to leave a book and two records behind. Jimi Hendrix also has been seen taking an occasional shore leave from the astral plane, having sat in on the recording of Horses, a couple of Eric Burdon sessions and hopefully the recording dates for his own last eight Warners’ elpees. Und jezt?

The latest entry in the rock reincarnation sweepsstakes appears to be none other than folk-pop diva James “Jim” Croce who, since his death in an airplane crack-up that took the lives of everyone aboard save the pilot (reportedly a fervent Stooges devotee) has been cohabiting the body .of D.C. rock writer Mark Jenkins.

According to Jenkins, the “soul transfusion” occurred exactly at the moment of Croce’s demise over three years ago.

“I was relaxing at home listening to “White Light/ White Heat” when suddenly the room went cold, then all glowy and I began to feel very full, as if I’d just eaten too much. I figured it was gas or something:”

As time went by, the fullness failed to subside and soon Jenkins began to feel other effects.

“Out of nowhere I developed an incredible affection for bottles full of blue stuff — Windex, aquarium gravel, meths. I thought I was going crazy till I finally caught on to what was really going on.”

The final revelation finally came late one June evening last summer. Mark was driving home from a Roxy Music concert, listening to the car radio when one of Croce’s biggest hits, “Bad Bad Leroy Brown,” came on the radio: “Suddenly I began singing to myself ‘Hey mister that’s me up on the jukebox’ and the door locks began flipping up and down in time to the music!

“When I got home I rushed into the front closet and pulled out my girlfriend’s old ouija board which promptly spelled out ‘h-i-m-y-n-a-m-ei-s-j-i-m-h-a-v-e-y-o-u-g-o-ta-n-a-m-e?’”

That was a ‘ year ago though and inevitably one is led to wonder why Mark has kept the big news to himself all this time?

“Well actually I never thought that it was that big a deal. I was never a big Croce fan myself — ooch! — ‘scusè me Jim. I’m more into the Velvets myself and I don’t look good in moustaches.

“Jim’s always been after me to come out and tell the world though, especially with all the other dead stars having such success nowadays.”

What then had prompted him to finally come forward and reveal his “inner space” connection?

“Well I figured that if that Casselberry character and Alan Douglas could do it then why not me? Not only am I more talented than those birds, I’m for real.

“The thing that really got me going though was when two guys down the street said they’d been “taken over” by Danny Whitten and Neil Young and got booked into a local club. I realized that all this transmigration garbage had gotten out of hand and that someone who really knew what was up would have to step in and take charge.”

Mark is currently collecting tunes for a “comeback” album (“I really don’t like the term ‘come-back’ — makes me sound like a perverted Mexican”) to be recorded at Track studios in Washington.

“I’m thinking of Tony Bongiovi as a producer right now but who can say if he’s available. I may have to settle for William Blatty.”

Howard Wuelfing

Nobody For President!

BERKELEY, CA.-Wavy Gravy, ex-Hog Farmer, Woodstock movie star, toothless counter-culture hero and admittedly, Nobody’s Fool, is alive and well and living on the West Coast in Berkeley these days. And he’s even got a job, working as campaign manager to elect “Nobody for President ia '76."

According to Gravy, “Nobody keeps his promises,” and he’s organized a series of cross-country rallies to spread the word and distribute campaign literature, including bumper stickers and buttons, with slogans like “Nobody Can Win!”“Nobody Makes Apple Pie Better Than Mom!” and “Nobody Likes Me.”

During a June rally at Berkeley’s Provo Park, four local bands entertained, including a seven-member acoustic group, Yuck City, who highlighted the afternoon with a medley of Nobody’s old favorites, including “Nobody Knows You When You’re Down and Out,” “Help! (I need Nobody)” and that Bay Area classic sung by Grace-what’sher-name, “Nobody to Love.”

Between sets, Wavy explained the details of Nobody’s platform, and was quick to point out that even Presidential hopeful Jimmy Carter conceded during a recent San Francisco Campaign speech, “Nobody knows for sure,” although other candidates have refused to comment on Mr. N’s write-in/on status.

Dave Patrick

5 YEARS AGO

Balin Leaves Airplane (For Good!)

Marty Balin, one of the mellower members of the Jefferson Airplane, has left the group for good, or so he claims. Balin plans to join the San Francisco based Grootna.