MAIL

MAIL

Please send letters to:

MAIL Dept., CREEM Magazine

P.O. Box P-1064, Birmingham, Ml 48012

CONTRALATERAL CONTRADICTORINESS

I have been wondering for the longest time about the way Gene Simmons reminds me so much of Richard M. Nixon. Take a good look—the resemblance is amazing!

True love and sincerity,

Matron of Honor

Standing by the fire hydrants

Watching the tide roll,

Day O!

Martha’s Vineyard, MA

P.S. Your Rode Revolution book is really great. (Stanchion our bat wings! You’ve hit the nail right on the squamosal on both counts. —Ed.)

HOLLYWOOD DISPATCH

I found Lester’s review of Blackmore’s new LP so amusing I almost fell over the railing upstairs at The Starwood. But Lester’s depiction of the “mucho he be very macho Ritchie” is one Lester must have formed while sniffing glue.

Ritchie attended a dinner party in his honor last night at Copperfield’s on The Strip and—he was polite! He was mild-mannered! He was beguiling in his gaunt-faced, holocaust ravaged expression.

He did not fling his beef stew, he put it in his mouth: along with his foot. Ritchie let photographers photog him—with Rodney Bingenheimer even.

In other words, Ritchie may have been in a guitar crazed stupor.. .but he was coherent. The only rabble rousing at the festivity was when Ritchie tossed a round loaf of sheepherder’s bread at his friend. Joanne, a journalist with Teen magazine. Blackmore left the dinner table standing up.

So, after Lester’s tremendous build-up, we here in Hollywood were confronted with a parish priest-like character garbed in black leather. No obscenities, no violence. The nastiest Ritchie was when a cute young thing approached him with “Hi! I’m Nancy.”

Ritchie sourly replied, “That’s your problem.”

Darcy

Hollywood. Ca.

(Can't Ritchie ever have an off day?—Ed.)

EQUAL TIME FOR WRITTEN SLIME

I picked up your August issue and unwittingly read an alleged article by an alleged writer named Lester Bangs on Paul McCartney. I am fast giving up hope that critics are human beings. Criticizing someone must not be confused with tearing someone to shreds to satisfy one’s own vindictive nature. I am getting tired of these self-proclaimed know-it-alls who are in my opinion nothing more than a bunch of jerk-offs. And the real crime is that they get paid for cutting people down. Their opinions are no more valid than anyone else’s. Just because their opinions get printed in a magazine or heard over the radio doesn’t make them fact. Critics are good at telling us about performers they think have no talent but what makes these critics think they have talent as writers?

I think that for every critic hired there should be another person hired to criticize the critic. It’s not fair that they can try to destroy anybody they wanHo in print, knowing that there’s no one to throw the cut-downs back at them. If performers could have equal time to write rebuttal articles about critics, then these alleged writers would know exactly what it’s like to be cut down, which is precisely what they need. Critics are great at handing out putdowns but I thinlcthey’re too conceited and involved with their own self-importance to be able to take it themselves.

Steve Jones

Takoma Park, Maryland

P.S. --I hope you have enough guts and fair play to print this letter in its entirety. Don’t cop out on me.

(Tuquoque, tuquoque, tuquoque. 1) Don’t forget that we are all animals, yourself included. 2) We don’t get paid much; even less when compared to what press agents get paid for building someone up. 3) Critics criticize critics all the time. We continually tell Robert Duncan, who owes us sixty dollars, that he is a deadbeat screw head scumbag. 4) We always ask performers to write to us, in rebuttal or.not. In fqct, see R. Meltzer’s special invitation in the record review section. 5) We would be glad to engage in any kind of test to show that we can “take it” but we’re too busy combing our hair and cleaning our business cards because we have a date with your mother. — Ed.)

HEY DAD, CAN I USE YOUR MAKEUP TONIGHT?

If people are still wondering why Kiss wear makeup continually, it could be that they’re trying to hide their wrinkles. Y’see, there’s a rumor here that one of the guys in the group has a son who’s in high school in the north part of town—which would tend to place papa somewhere in the 35to-40 age range, right?

Making time,

Kevin Walsh

San Rafael, Ca.

(Sure, sure, now we’ve heard ’em all. Yeah, it’s true. The kid is the spittin’ image of Ricky Ricardo. too. If your father was in Kiss wouldn’t you - live in San Rafael?—Ed.)

HERPETOLOGY 360

I have three questions.

Is it permissible to get serious once in a while in this column? I know you’re going to misinterpret this, but I just wanted to tell you that I think you people put out the most entertaining and enjoyable publication to be found anywhere and I wish you were a weekly.

Ed, could you or Lester or Rick Johnson or somebody, help me out with a problem that I have? It’s about the new Rick Wakeman album, No Earthly Connection, playing on my tape deck as I type this. You see, I can’t get the damn thing out of my mind. Ever since I heard it, I’ve developed this insatiable urge to belt out “Wait! Wait! Look at the sun!” wherever I happen to be, be it in a supermarket or church or wherever. Don’t get me wrong, I love the album. I may be the only one, but that damn hook is driving me CRAZY! What should I do?

Do any of you know the name of that chick on TV who does those Fresh Look vacuum commercials, the one with dark hair who looks sort of like Annette Funicelio? I think I’m falling in love. Thanks for your time.

Weirdly yours,

Chris Johnson

Webster Groves, MO

(VVe have three answers: 1) No. 2) Wear sunglasses and buy a gun. 3) If we knew, why would we share the thrill with you anyway? You’re welcome. —Ed.)

MESSAGE FROM THE CAN

I just got finished reading your August issue. It was the first one that I’ve read in about 15 months. It was beautiful but I really got bummed out when 1 read what people were saying about you and your magazine. People out in the free want to be accepted for what they are and what they say, yet they write and tell you that you aren’t right and you are fucked up. It just freaks me out. Well, I think your magazine is beautiful and everyone that wrote it. I’ll be out of this prison pretty soon and you can bet one thing and that is, I’ll still read CREEM and still love it.

Freedom Forever,

Moody 134255

(Stay in! One of our editors may be joining you shortly. —Ed.)

SCHIESST KOPF

A friend of mine recently told me that he read in your magazine that Happy Days; (commonly known as Crappy Daze), has paid Kraftwerk to rewrite “Autobahn” with the lyrics: “Wir Fonz, Fonz, Fonz auf der Autobahn.” Is this true? little Ronnie Howard Ritz Cracker,

Mayberry, ABC

(Jawohl. Aber Fonz ist nicht SQ gut. Aber Idi Amin kommt herunter. —Ed.)

REPTILIAN REQUIESCAT

In every one of your issues since March 76 you have said something about Jim Morrison. Congratulations!!! Love on ya!!! Kisses!!! Keep up the great work—I want ‘something’ about MORRISON in every issue from now on. And in your November 76 issue, I want an article on MORRISON with pictures. If not, / will make the Earth stop in its tracks and make the Blue Cars go away.

Rejoice

Jesus Christ

P.S. Tell KISS that I’m going to kill them. (Stop the earth; fine, no more blue cars; OK, but kill Kiss??!! Never!—I’m Judas.)

JUST ANOTHER HEMORRHOID

Why don’t you ever print my letters? This is the ninth I’ve written, I think. I’ve lost count.

Best regards and please print this,

The Stardust Kid

(It’s simple; your chicken scrawlings are nothing more than conduplicate condylomatous concessions. And this is your eleventh.—Ed.)

STEVE TYLER MUST TIGHTEN UP

CREEM of my Life

You left me high strung,

The bands I believed in

Were the ones that you hung

Bad Reviews & Trivial News

You gave me the Rock ‘n’ Roll Blues

Aerosmith was my main concern

You printed no-good shit

When will you ever learn

What the people want they should get!

Sincerely,

Season O. Whither

Chairperson for the ‘Tighter pants for Steven” Campaign.

Basket, Ill.

(This letter is an example of what listening to too much FM radio will do to you. —Ed.)

HOITY-TOITY HEIGH-HO

I just bought the Runaways album. I haven’t heard such shit since Brownsville Station. Talk about punk rock.

Kristin Allyn

Hell’s Bells, NY

(That’s strange; our hedonistic calculus scores high. Clasp your pain . . . it will lead to your joy. —Ed.)

WHAT ABOUT ARMEND?

Armend Schaubroeck Steals does not sound like Lou Reed, Bob Dylan, Jim Morrison or even Iggy Pop, nor does he reflect from Andy Warhol, Walt Disney, Frank Zappa, Lenny Bruce or Zane Grey.

No success until he’s on the silver screen; but then it’s too late for we will lose him again—then we will all cry. for ARMEND SCHAUBROECK is JAMES DEAN.

Sandy M.

Brockport, N.Y.

(Listen Sandy, it’s time for you, as Ann Landers puts it, to wake up and smell the coffee! Jimmy Dean is long, long gone and we’ve got a sneaking feeling he’s gonna stay that way in the near future. We always thought that Armend Schaubroeck was a front for the NPA [National Pederasty Association]. No?—Ed.)

BITING THE HAND THAT FEEDS

All you idiots must get mail from people with sexual or musical problems. Some people really need help out there. They cry out desperately, “Oh, please help me or I will commit suicide!” You reply, “Go join the Moonies.”

You could kill off a subscriber. Now, please listen to my problem like an intelligent person. You see, for over a year now I’ve been having an affair with my Toyota. I get under that hot car and rub its oil pan. It feel so good on top of me. I always shut the garage doors; there’s so many weird people on the streets these days.

Thanks for the time. What do you think, ED?

James Watson

San An tone, Texas

P.S. Thanks for printing my last letter.

(You ask us to listen like an “intelligent person” to your mewllngs about rubbing off with a car, an imported car f’rcrissakes, and actually expect a reply? Well, James, from the viewpoint of an “intelligent person," we suggest that the next time you’re in the garage with the doors closed, before you get underneath your car, start Its engine. -Ed.)

MORE HEAD FOR TED

Now that young Ted has become the superstar of the decade, how can anyone not see that the logical next step is for Ted Nugent to make a movie?

I have the script. Jesus Ted Christ is saving the world from slow, agonizing death by drugs. He burns out drug selling opposites played by the Osmonds, with his guitar war chants and blows their goddamn brains on the concrete.

Jesus Ted is the prime manipulator of high energy (definitely a wounded mother). This is from

A wounded mother in Texas.

Prodigal Man!

P.S. Free Wayne Kramer

P.S.S. Tell us something about Sonic’s Rendezvous.

(Great. But not a movie ... A WEEKLY SERIAL! Plus guest host appearances on the Johnny Cgrson Show . . . sure would beat John Denver. Anyway, enough wishful thinking . . . Sonic’s Rendezvous Band is fantastic. Besides Fred “Sonic” Smith, formerly of the MC5, on guitar, the band features Gary Rasmussen, formerly of the UP, on bass; Scott Morgan, formerly of the Rationals, doing the vocals; and last but definitely not least, Scott “Rock Action” Asheton, formerly of the Stooges, on drums. What more need be said?—Ed.)

BETTER COOP THAN POOP

When I read Billy Altman’s review of Alice Cooper’s new album Alice Cooper Goes to Hell, being the true Cooper fan that 1 am, 1 was enraged and insulted.

Alice Cooper is the coolest and always will be.

I felt that Billy Altman was rating the Coop rather than his album. The album shows creativity, a good imagination and musical ability.

And what, may I ask, has Peter Marshall, Peter Marshall’s real name, LaCock, the Chicago Cub’s owner Phil Wrigley and Freedent gum, have to do with Alice Cooper’s new album? NOTHING!

1 feel Billy Altman has disgraced Alice Cooper, Alice Cooper’s new album, his fans and CREEM magazine.

Sincerely, a true Cooper fan forever,

Celeste Cooper

(If Billy Altman were here he would no doubt take you by the arms, tie them up, sit you in front of a TV, turn on a strange and powerful elixer, and make you watch re-runs of Life of Riley, 20th Century and Winky Dink. Then and only then, would you know how all of this fits into the master plan, knucklehead. — Ed.)

TIJUANA TACO

Hola: Soy um muchacho pervano y me gusta mucho la musicao pop. Quiero que me escriba alguien que quiera intercambiar folk pervano por musica pop (Yes, Pink Floyd, Genesis, ELP.. .). Mi nombre es: Miguel Angel Toledo Gutierrez. Mi direccion: Av. Pedro Pascual Farfan, N. 1288-A, Urbanizavon La Trinidad, Lima $, Peru.

Tambien puedo enviar objetos tipicos.

(Hi, Pedro. Nice hearing from you. How is your sister anyway? Your check is in the mail. Thanks again, but next time no dogs, ey?—Ed.)

BERNIE IS BUTCH!

While I’m delighted that CREEM was intelligent enough to interview the gorgeous Bernie Taupin, I'm really ticked off at Jaan. Jaan just HAD to ask, didn't he? That lousy swine couldn’t resist asking if Elton and Bernie were fags, eh? Bernie is OBVIOUSLY a heterosexual; he OOZES masculinity. So does EJ. That idiot couldn’t bother asking decent questions (i.e. Bernie’s relationship with Lynsey and how Bernie's wife feels about it.). If Jaan inquired about Bernie’s sexual preferences out of his OWN interest for a relationship with him, THAT would be understandable. Bernie is a sexy hunk!!

A Jaan Uhelszki hater.

Cheryl Mitchell

(You idiot!! Jaan has been called a lot of things in her day, but being called a man is not one of them! And you think Bernie Taupin oozes masculinity. Honey, we think you best go back to the birds and the bees.—Ed.)

MORETRASH

I agree fully with Debbie Rodriguez whose letter was in the Sept, issue of CREEM. You people don’t know good music at all. do you? The symbol of good itiusic is people like The Bay City Rollers and Queen—now that’s talent!

You are probably going to throw this letter in the trash. Go ahead, I don’t mind. My letter is not trash. Your taste for music is TRASH!

Thank you, Debbie, from all us Roller fans.

Lesa Evans

Glendale, Calif.

Rollers 4-Ever

(You’re right about one thing. We are throwing this letter in the trash —our letters section. —Ed.)

JEEP CREEP

Your issue showingTedNugent’s jeep was great. Good old Ted always did have good taste. If he keeps playing guitar as fast as that jeep will cruise he’ll be just fine. It seems they’ve been putting a halt to all of that feedback though. He’ll just have to find some way around that! I feel sorry for that dog though, knowing he could be Ted’s lunch.

G. Romero

Bowling Green, Ohio

(Another intelligent reader. Listen, you misinformed dumbbell, jeeps aren’t supposed to go fast! If Ted played guitar as fast as his Jeep goes, he’d sound just like Pete Seeger and you don’t want that, do you?—Ed.)

BORED TO BE WILD

To: All the Queers, Fags, Dikes, Hypes, Transvestites, and assorted and sorted weirdos at CREEM magazine.

Hi Guys,

Look, all the shit you are laying down about Bowie, Eno, Iggy, and assorted others is going to have to stop. I’m referring to the letters you print written by the little tight-assed Osmond lovers, who get their kicks masturbating with a picture of Karen Carpenter. In the immortal words of whoever the hell that was, if you don’t like it, don’t knock it—somebody else might want to rock it. This also goes for those heavenly bodies which gave us so many hours of pain and pleasure.

TURN TO PAGE 71.

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 13.

Thanx for the space to bitch. T.L.L.O.A.

p.s. Tell Lester Bangs if he ever needs one we’re always here.

p.s.s. Please excuse the spelling as we were sitting down to tee when this letter was written.

p.s.s.s. Also, please tell Kiss if they want to drop by for a piece of c—, I mean cake, they are more than welcome to it.

(What is this crap about “pain and pleasure”? We’ve had your typewriting analyzed and the doctor told us definitely that your idea of bondage is putting angora on your boy friend’s high school ring and the only leather you know is those steaks your old man charcoal-broiled last night in your suburban backyard. No wonder you know so much about Osmond lovers! You are one. Don’t be afraid. You can come out of the closet now. —Ed.)

TORA TORA TORA

I found out that you had a Kiss contest and if you won you got a pic of the without their makeup. Well. I’m unfortunate enough to have missed it. 1 would like to know if another one will ever be held.

S.O.

Okinawa, Japan

(Even if you put bamboo shoots underneath our fingernails and drip water on our heads, the only thing you’ll get out of us is name, rank and favorite alcoholic beverage. But come around on December 7th and we’ll give you a surprise—Ed.)

FIFTH WHEEL FEEDBACK

1 am an avid reader of CREEM and I enjoy reading it very much, but I was disappointed in the September issue, because it did not have as many color photos, the kind you can cut out and pin up. Anyway, 1 write this piece as a reply to several letters you published in your September issue to “This girl will never get crabs:”

Talk about CREEM criticizing people, what do you think you aid when you called (and I quote) “Queen, Kiss, Stones, Roxy music; all of them are slutes, gays, and junkies.” You obviously can’t stand to have “your” band criticized, but yet you find a “divine right” to go cutdown the others and CREEM, now, for “skunk bait salute.”

1 agree with you on some points. I have read biased articles in CREEM that have too much criticism about one performer, but that doesn’t make the whole magazine bad. A final, note to you; you may not like CREEM, and you may not buy it anymore, but / happen to like it (along with millions of others) and / will continue to buy it as long as it’s being sold!

J.G.

in “The Heart of Dixie”

(Gee, thanks. It’s people like you who ferrule the metaphysical shaft of a Speed Reading course. Sorry we disappointed you cut-outwise in September . . you are using blunt end scissors, of course?—Ed.)

CANINE CASTOFFS

First of all, I’d like to inform you that your cover title announcing an article about YES was not only predictable, silly, and obvious, but it had nothing to do with the article inside.

Now, about that “article”. That was the shiftiest thing I have ever seen appear in your pages! I could swallow a quart of ink and puke a better article than that!! Duncan came into that interview determined that he was going to get a story predicting YES’s breakup whether it was there or not. His method of editing the quotes made me sick.

Secondly,! .have talked to many a rock lover that didn’t like YES, and the word they didn’t use was “squiggly.” That implies a lot of bloop-a-deeblopp cluttering up the music line. The only person that would describe YES as squiggly would be one such as Duncan, an inarticulate boob just released from the outer fringes of Lower Strathill who has been raised on the sound of KISS and never encountered any other music.

Love and kisses,

A doggy-bver from Ceygolia. ,

(First of all, couldn’t you say the same about Crisco? Secondly, what about Hopi Indians? But you ’re absolutely rightabout Robert Duncan. Did you know that he has owed us sixty dollars since last April?—Ed.)

ANOTHER LOYAL READER

I can’t get a buzz from your magazine. I like reading it but after I scope out the first ten pages I must discontinue for lack of information that is worthy of non-common unread material. Like what’s goin’ on there?

FLASHZ

Kroeck, Mass.

(Okay, Woodstein, haven’t you guys got better things to do than to send us these letters every month? We’re simply not going to do a story about the reformation of the Iron Butterfly, and that’s final!—Ed.)

BEAN PROLE

I just thought I would write to inform you that Kenny Aaronson does not even come close to the Skinniest Man in Rock ’n’ Roll title. The skinniest man in rock ’n’ roll is most definitely Stin Deluxe of the Dead Boys, the greatest band ever to come out of Cleveland. Just thought I’d let you know.

The Outkid

Brookpark, Ohio

(We are very sure that if you lived in Uganda this whole topic would not be of interest to you. -Ed.)

SEVENTEEN STEPS TO BETTER HEALTH

Alright pygmies: 1) Derringer sucks KorvetteTel-Star Stridex axes dry. (All-Americkkkan Boy plays guitar with gloves on. 2) Lou Reed needs an enema desperately. 3) If the old Doors tapes aren’t left alone Jim Morrison will return with a nice hydrochloric acid double for everybody. 4) Kiss is the product of the Camden, N. J. sewer system. 5) Requesting a funeral for the unsuspecting (i.e. Mick, Robert, Eric . . .) 6) Patti Smith is nirvana materialized. B.O.C. too. 7) Leave the straights to deteriorate. Heteros included. 8) Kris K. can kiss my ass. 9) Alice is a dupa. 10) Cherry Vanilla has crotch-rot and Sable Starr is suffering from terminal crabs. 11) The “Fag Killer” is just an angry frustrated eunuch. 12) Paul McCartney is dead, long live Yoko! 13) Jim Dandy needs a tonsillectomy. 15) Mick uses Kaopectate. N$6) Grace Spinder Devoring Slick is creamcheesing Betty Ford graves. 16) Bowie needs a fresh coat of face. 17) >Hang together, we’ll see off the next renaissance eruption.

Nobody is a star

Orgastically,

Entity Splitting Breadscape P.S. My self-degradation served its purpose through pre-public education.

(Everything you mention is certainly feasible in a feebligh felmongering sort of way. You’re a living testimonial to something, felo de se, we believe. Everything is everything. Why can’t we be friends?—Ed.)