Mail

Mail

Please send letters to:

MAIL Dept., CREEM Magazine P.O. Box P-1Q64 , Birmingham, Ml 48012

WHO'S KIDDING WHO?

I just received about the fiftieth letter from a Who freak who wants to know when The Bible is coming out. It's about time you realised that people actually BELIEVE what they read in that rock 'n' roll rag of yours.

1 got a letter from the berk who wrote the piece trying to tell me it was some kind of tribute. Tell him from me if he comes to see me personally some time 111 return the compliment.

In the meantime please print SOMETHING to let people know that I am not working on a ten album set based on The Bible. In fact, I am working on a thirteen album set with Ronnie Lane and Eric Clapton. The story is based on the life of Alexander the Great and his now legendary meeting with Jimmy Carter. The music is going to be recorded in braille and, dear friends, I know where you live. So please put the record straight otherwise I might try going into competition with you as a journalist. You wouldn't last a year. Reflectively yours,

Pete Townshend Twickenham, England

(It's rough being Jesus in a country with such a

shortage of wood, eh? Best that you do go into journalism. ..maybe you con get a straight answer out of Keith Moon—Ed.)

BEER CANS IN YOUR EARS Can you tell me if your Boy Howdy is related to Robin, Boy Wonder?

Lord Hubby (Home Is In My Head)

Moab, Utah .

(No.-Ed.)

CBGEEBIES

Aren't you getting tired of the drivel published in your pitiful excuse for a real rock mag? I think I'll be sick if I see one more picture of Steven Tyler (he gives me the creeps). Furthermore, I am the trucker who delivers the rolls of paper to your printing presses, and I have a right to be heard! So don't tell me to go soak my head, like you did to those innocent Japanese girls, hop-heads, cause I've 'got a crowbar and I'll bash your brains in.

Whatever happened to Fanny, anyhow? I was in love with that Filipino brat, June Millington. Have arms, will snuggle. If I have to pay good money for your issues, then I deserve to see more tit! None of this jailbait crap like the Runaways, either. I want real woman, like Linda Ronstadt. Orion, look down.

If it wasn't for me and my CB buddies (like the Bennington Beaver Weaver) you Michigan bastards wouldn't get any good smoke. You'd buy ragweed from Kansas (not the band) and like it. I hope you get bugs in your nachos, kimosavee!

A Yankee buddy in a white 18-wheeler was hauling plutonium oxide from the Nuke up North, when the mother shifted, broke open, cntmntd [??—Ed] his new rig. The faggot pimps at the N.R.C. wouldn't pay off, neither. When are you Fellow Travelers going to get off the curb, out of the gutter, and get on the stick?!? Nuclear energy is a threat to Ted Nugent, as well as life everywhere. At least you could print more pix of the Dictators or Talking Heads. Tell Jaan Uhelszki to get an American name.

ARS ET OMNIA The Tattoo Vampire I-10 Wesson Oil Heat

(We think your squelch knob needs adjusting... all we're picking up from you is static. —Ed.)

MORE DIRTFORYOUR MENTAL SANDBOX

This is just a brief reminder concerning the last time you did an article on the. Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. If I'm not mistaken it was the June 1971 issue. How about bringing CREEM readers up to date? May I suggest a lengthy, exclusive interview complete with colored photos? How does a short record review grab you? Well, at least consider a line or two in "Rock 'n' Roll News."

Very truly yours,

Nina

Brooklyn, N.Y.

(Hey, Nina, how about bringing us editors up to date...Do you have a last name? As far as us doing any copy on the Nitty Gritties; 'they're high on our lists for possible one-shots in 1984. — Ed.)

TAMING THE CORPORATE KINKS I just thought you and your readers would be interested in the following information (all figures are approximations). The December 1973 edition of CREEM was 82 pages in length. This breaks down into 57 page? of readable CREEM (articles, reviews, letters, etc.) and 25 pages of advertisements. In percentage, this figures at 70%* readable CREEM and 30% advertisements. On the other hand, the December 1976 edition of CREEM was 74 pages in length which breaks down into 44 pages of readable CREEM and 30 pages of advertisements. In terms of percentages this figures 60% readable CREEM' and 40% advertisements.

In terms of dollar value, the December 1973 edition (cost: $.75) gave us 76 pages of readable CREEM per dollar. The December 1976 edition of CREEM (cost: $1.00) gave us 44 pages of readable CREEM per dollar. This means there has been a reduction of 32% (measured in dollar value) in readable CREEM.

To sum it up, you are charging much more money for much less readable CREEM. As for those who say the ads are the best part of your magazine (1 am one of them), a comparison will show a decrease in the entertainment value of the advertisements since 1973.

Well, what do you have to say for yourselves? watchdoggingly yours,

Ralph Nader

P.S. Don't give us that shit about inflation—there hasn't been that much inflation.

(You are apparently not as familiar with the magazine publishing business as you are with Corvairs, Ralph old pal. The rule of thumb for most mags is 60% advertising to 40% editorial. As you can plainly see, our stats are just the opposite, which leads us to believe that CREEM, increased cover price, ads and all, is still one hell of a bargain. Just the letter section alone is worth a buck, wouldn't you say?—Ed.)

DIRTY MONEY

The answer to the question in your November issue ("Does Sex Sell Albums?") is: you bet your ass it does! I've been selling records for the last couple of years, and dealing with some real strange wack-offs to say the least. Like the guy who ran in to buy the Salsoul Orchestra's latest album for the picture on the cover—some woman squeezing her naked buns together, coyly looking over her shoulder with a more than suggestive look. (Have you noticed hlw everything is photographed to look moist and sweaty?) Since he was slightly over 30, I asked the old geezer about his musical preferences, and he mumbled something about young girls and creamcheese. He only wanted to know if there was a poster available of the cover, and when 1 told him no, he plunked down all these warm, moist bills on the counter and bought the damn thing. I immediately washed my hands. Pruriently yours,

Bob Simmons Record & Bookbam Hackensack, New Jersey (Now there's some money that really should be "laundered. "—Ed.)

CULT ASSAULTS

What I'd like to know is—what gives Lester Bangs the right to badmouth a lyrical genius like Sandy Pearlman? Sometimes 1 get the impression that the "writers" of CREEM are jealous of the people they rank down.

And then there's the story by R. Meltzer—"The Sandy Pearlman Only Some Of Us Know."' What's that article supposed to do—make Sandy look bad? So, he's made some mistakes! Don't you ever make mistakes? I think your birth was a mistake!

To Air-Wreck Genheimer: Love ya, man. At least someone sees what a masterpiece "Dominance and Submission" is!

Back to Dante,

Johnny Cool

Somewhere nasty •

(All you need to know is that Lester Bangs always buys at least one round whenever we see him.

That, coupled with the First Amendment gives him the right to say just about anything he damn well pleases. Jealous of Sandy Pearlman? Of course...wouldn't you be jealous of someone who can call up Handsome Dick Manitoba anytime they wanted?

It is tautologous that R. Meltzer never makes mistakes...an occasional faux pas maybe, but never mistakes.

Air-Wreck wishes to thank his father for writing but asks that next time he just send money. — Ed.)

MAY RODAN LAY HER EGGS ON YOUR HEAD

I'm a Marine who Is stationed in Okinawa. I recently went to mainland Japan and found out that rock 'n' roll had died there. Everyone was into Country & Western and that bump-to-bump disco shit. If you were an avid rock freak like myself you were really up shit creek.

A word of advice to my fellow rockies. Stay the hell put of Japan! It's in bad shape!

J. Garrett

Wherever Sam Sends Me (While it's true that the Japanese do look at things with a different slant, we don't think you should criticize their taste in music. After all, Angel might not have any fans if it wasn't for the kids from the land of GAMORAN. -Ed.)

AN OPEN LETTER FROM ROBERT DUNCAN

Lest it be misconstrued that I cannot spell, or thatl am given to wholly unnecessary rock/historical references, I would like to point out that I intended the word you printed as "spector" in the final page of "The Day The Earth Stood Kiss" (Jan. '77 CREEM) Part One (originally subtitled "A Harrowing Document") to be spelled "spectre". I realize that this misunderstanding arose due to the fact that I transmitted that part of the interview to you via telephone.

Don't let it happen again, v

Yours bitterly,

Robert Duncan

World's Leading Authority On Rock Group

Kiss

Gum Joy, N.Y.

(''Misconstrued that I cannot spell"??? Just shows you what listening to Kiss through headphones will do. OK: according to Webster's New World Dictionary, it is "specter" in these United States, so we're all wrong. The British spelling is "spectre". Do you see "Britain's Only Rock 'n' Roll Magazine" on our masthead? Hey. Get smart with us and next time we'll transpose your paragraphs like Circus does.— Ed.)

WE WOULDN'T TOUCH IT WITH A TEN-FOOT...

BOO! HISS! Polish jokes on page 69 of the November issue. In case Laughner, Gallagher and Reed haven't heard, we Poles have been unr offically emancipated. You can't kick us around anymore. Master, we is free. I hope you all choke on a kieibasa.

Notice, no "ski,"

Zygmont

Areata, Ca.

(Unofficially is right. We thought all of you were still screwing in that light bulb and hadn't gotten around to reading yet. Don't worry though, we've heard thatLaughner's next humor target is going to be Croatia ns. —Ed.)

ARCHERY LESSON

Much applause to Robert Duncan on his positive review of Ted Nugent's Free-For-All. I'm glad to see he is finally getting credit for being the true kind of rock that he is. There was a time when you, CREEM, were embarrassed to run photos of him, much less a review such as this. What has changed you? jc

Affton, Mo.

(Well, you see, Ted paid us a friendly visit at our offices one day. Of course, he brought his bow and arrows as well as his hunting dogs. After chatting awhile, Ted told us that he was getting hungry, very hungry. When told that there were no woods nearby and that the local 7-11 was unlikely to have fresh muskrat, Ted started to get a strange look in his eyes, a very strange look. Shortly thereafter, we decided to quit wimpin' it up and PUT THE HAMMER DOWN! Simple as that.—Ed.)

BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS I've heard that Gary Gilmore ordered a six pack of beer for his last meal. What I need to know is what brand? The answer may be crucial to the status of my future employment. Sincerely, .

Ed 'Alpo' McMahon

(The brand was Boy Howdy! What else?—Ed.)

LIVING IN THE PAST Your staff is the best around and the only reason recent issues of CREEM have been getting more and more forgettable is not your writers, but the state of rock 'n' roll itself.

I have some of your classic back issues of about three years ago, and they're incredible! Every single veteran group was at their peak (Deep Purple, Jethro Tull, Stones, etc.), there were fascinating "new" bands breaking onto the scene (Roxy Music, N.Y. Doll$* Iggy, etc.), the memory of Hendrix and much'of the Sixties was still uncluttered, but most importantly, was the existence of genuinely "important" bands (Bowie, Mott the Hoople, etc.).

Nowadays, all those bands are either faded or jaded, and to take their place are "wind-up" robot groups who specialize in appearing to do a lot, but not really doing anything to earn their money. Kiss, Aerosmith, and the like can perform to sellout crowds in their sleep. I should know, I've paid to see them do it! Twice!

Anyway, with all this it's easy to see why the quality of CREEM and all the "other" rock mags are getting as faceless as the personalities they're forced to write about. You guys have a fine staff— try to see this shit through.

Just maybe we'll live to see T. Rex make it again. I really hope so.

Glenn Sweeney West of Echo

(We know where you're cornin' from, as the cliche goes, but we don't really agree with you. Whining for the "good old days" is dumb, no matter what era you happen to pine for. The point is that there are still many "fascinating" new bands as well as genuinely "important" bands in their peak years. But don't expect us to tell you who they are, pal, you gotta look for yourself, cause that's half the fun. As far as T. Rex goes, forget 'em. Better you should pray for a return of the 13th Floor Elevators—Ed.) ^

FACTS FROM THE FACTORY In your December issue, you quote Kim Fowley as saying his new group "Qyick" were "mutants from the suburbs." Fowley knows damn well who the real Mutants are and what suburbs we're from. Our kiss-ass ex-keyboard player used to call him long distance for Iggy, Nugent, j. Geils and Ritchie (The Prick) Blackmore, to name a few. Over the years, we've earned the right to be called The Mutants. Kim Fowley should go back to writing filler material for the Byrds.

TURN TO PAGE 72.

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 10.

MAIL

Pissed,

The Mutants

(formerly "The Motor City Mutants")

P.S. Sorry about the paper, but I had to write on what I could find at the factory—glass wipes. (We always thought Fowley was a glass wipe anyway. —Ed.)

CANUCK CUDOS

I have been reading your sweaty mag long enough to endure such Boy Howdyisms as "The whole of Canada is a hockey town—all they have is Anne Murray," credited to Lester Bangs. What surprised me was Peter Laughner's revelation that there were 50,000 kids at that Aerosmith/ Derringer/Gallagher concert in Toronto. I mean, everyone knows there are no more than 15 people past the 48th parallel.

Seriously, though, please thank Mr. Laughner for his less-than-snide appraisal of this foreign country. I must be running now—it's half-pastOctober and 1 promised BTO I'd go moose hunting with them.

Your Northern correspondent,

Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada (Don't forget your license. And, as long as you're going, please wake sure that BTO don't mistake one of their own for that elusive moose. —Ed.)

zzzzzzz

I thought Billy Altman's review of the Bob Dylan Hard Rain album and TV special was very accurate. I fell asleep, too.

Yours truly,

Alexander MirefU Cleveland, Ohio

(If you thought that was perceptive, wait till you read his review of Rock And Roll Over in this very issue!—Ed.) WZ&