THE BEAT GOES ON

THE BEAT GOES ON

ANGEL: More Sheep In Godzilla’s Clothing?

DETROIT—A while back the editors of CREEM were bouncing each other off the walls of a now condemned apartment building, enjoying the subtle nuances of the saltpeter bombs which are sprinkled over the Kiss Alive LP when someone, a good natured drunk who believed himself to be a taxi driver, but who in fact never drove anything other than his mother crazy, pointed out the rather humorous contradictions between our heroes, Kiss, and their record company’s new band, Angel. This hypothesis was met with a resoundingchorus of, “Dut-hut! Yeah,” followed with an impromptu stream of unconscious word association: “Kiss... devils, Angel.. . angels! Kiss . . . black; Angel.. .white. Kiss:.. bombs, Angel... synthesizers. Kiss... hell, Angel... heaven. Kiss... boom, Angel ... squeal. Kiss... chains (iron), Angel...bracelets(turquoise). Kiss... ugly, Angel .... pretty. Kiss... scales, Angel... silks. Kiss... Casablanca. Angel . . .Casablanca!”

Astute arguments against the seniority system aside, I was delegated the task of the interrogation of Angel members Greg Giuffria and Mickey Jones. Greg, the band’s keyboardist, was first to take the stand. Mickey, the bass player , followed.

CREEM: As to the theory that Kiss is successful prob^ ably because they’re portrayed as the extreme configuration of everything evil and mean, an^ therefore j^ngel will be successful if they are portrayed as the extreme configuration of everything good and nice.. . how, specifically, do you feel about people taking that attitude toward your band?

GREG:. Well, first impressions are killers... that’s what gets me. If you give it a second thought and give someone the benefit of the doubt for just a second, the music is there and it is a sincere thing. We didn’t just base it all on theatrics.

CREEM: But you certainly do use theatrics more than most other bands, don’t you? GREG: Oh, sure! Our next tour is going to be a very ultra-original tour for a new group to undertake... using illusions and magic where we disappear on stage and reappear right in front of people. We’re using our time now to build the props so it’ll be something out of the ordinary. When it comes to putting on a good show for people, Angel is sincere. CREEM: But that’s what everybody says!

GREG: Yeah, I guess they do, but then again, you see sometimes that d lot of people aren’t.

CREEM: Do you personally feel that Angel is just the opposite of Kiss?

GREG: Well, I don’t know. If you look at it technically, we Would be. Everything from th^ way we look to what we wear, we’re just the opposite. They wear lots of make-up. We rely on the guys in the group to look good naturally. In Japan, they’re always playing up that stuff, like we’re all pure and white and can fly around on our angel wings; Kiss is mean and farts around trying to look like devils. Bye. CREEM: Good-bye, Greg. Hello, Mickey... does it make you mad to be categorized as merely “the opposite of Kiss”?

MICKEY: No. I think it’s kind of silly, but it doesn’t piss me off. As long as people really dig it, they can associate us with anything they want. We get all this fan mail from Japan and I got this one letter that had a drawing of Kiss on top of us, beating us up. We were little angels with wings on our backs and Kiss had all their monster costumes on. Printed on the outside of the letter was, ' “ETERNALLY KISS IN JAPAN!” They look at it that way, too. But I think it’s kinda silly. Our music is different... there’s no comparison at all.

ROCK STARS GIVE UP MAKING BABIES FOR NEW KICK

In their pever-ending quest for hedonistic higns, the rock elite have hit on a new disgusting habit: nose humping! All it takes is a little pressure from your turquoise-ringed finger to, your nose's miniscule erogenous zone and you'll be riding, cowboy (multiple orgasms, look outl). Bernie Taupin and sometime-girlfriend Lynsey DePaul go at it for our camera; Elton gives himself a gentlemanly tug,; Steven Tyler is characteristically vulgar about taking his pleasure, and even the demure Ms. Ronstadt needs a little lovin', even if it's from her own little hand. We blush to report this kirtd of thing: all in the interest of news, you understand.

CREEM: What about the rumor that Kiss discovered you guys?

MICKEY: That’s a lot of bullshit. They just happened to stroll in on our last night at this club after they did a gig at the Capitol Center. They walked in and saw that the group was really a knock out, so they talked to Neal Bogart (president pf Casablanca Records) a couple of days later but they didn’t know that David Joseph (Angel’s manager), who had just joined Casablanca, had already talked to Neal about us. Neal said to David, “Well, I’ll put them on at Long Beach, with “Kiss.” David said he’d better check with Kiss about that ’cause they might not like it. Neal said, “What do you mean they won’t like it? Kiss will play with anybody.” Neal called Gene and Paul and they said not to put us on the show and Neal calls David back, five minutes later and says, “I’ll try ’em. I don’t even want to see ’em.” Eventually, a couple of days later, Neal did get to see us in a really tiny rehearsal hall in Burbank, and he was knocked out. We were really impressed with him, too, and the whole operation. We were talking to other companies at the time who we easily could have made deals with, but we wanted to go to a smaller company.

CREEM: How about an official statement, for the record, on how you feel about the comparisons we’ve been talking about between Kiss and Angel?

MICKEY: I suppose we are trying to create the same feeling with the kids when we get out there live, but other than that, I see no bridge between our music and their music. Both groups are basically out to do the same thing; get the kids'off and give them the best possible show for what they’re paying.

Air-Wreck Genheimer

NEW YORK— Following what is generally agreed to have been one of the dullest occurences of the modern age—that is, the recent Lou Reed concert at the 14th Street Palladium (nee Academy of Music) here—they gave a party. Which is a nice gesture of apology but hardly adequate compensation.

The Big Event

Be that as it may , the soiree at Feathers restaurant on lower Fifth Avenue was remarkably well-attended. Diana Ross came for reasons that can only be called ob: scure. Andy Warhol came because, as Kevin Doyle has suggested, he would probably attend the opening of an envelope. Sylvia Miles came because Andy came. Cliye Davis, who with thoroughly solemn sincerity thanked Andy at the end of the evening for attending, came because he’s the man who shelled out a reported 200 grand for Lou’s contract and has got tq get some fun out of the whole sordid affair. David Forman, the new singersongwriter messiah and another Arista act, was present, but only because he assumed anything has got to be better than Ohio where he had spent the previous month touring. Of course, the rock press, both establishment, and non-establishment, turn-' ed out enthusiastically (it was free) and was observed casually and quietly discussing Webster’s Seventh Edition Collegiate Dictionary in a large corner. Perhaps most surprising was the appearance of three-quarters of Kiss, accompanied by wives and girlfriends and Starz, sdns makeup despite the presence of many working photogs.

But frivolity aside, there were several incidents at the party which demand indepth reporting for their grave importance in the larger scheme of things.

1)When the Kiss contingent arrived, everyone immediately recognized Gene and Paul (sorry Kitty-Ka|) without their makeup and clustered about them, buzzing excitedly. In fact, it took Gene a full fifteen minutes before he was able to reach the nearby bar for a beer.

2) When Lou Reed arrived , nobody cared. Though, to be fair, only a handful actually thought he was a corpse.

3) After we were introduced, I asked Lou Reed what he thought of the Greatest Rock ’n’ Roll Band in the World—Kiss, that is— and he said, “I’ve got to go see somebody.” and never once looked me directly in the eyes.

4) Andy Warhol did look me in the eyes (he is nothing if not polite) when I asked a quite similar question and the conversation went as follows:

Your reporter: “Andy, have you seen Kiss with their makeup on?”

Andy: “Yes.”

Y.R.: “So what do you think?”

Andy: “Good.”

Y.R.: “Aw, comeon, Andy!” Andy: “Grqat.”

5) Diana Ross did not sit off to the side and confer with Lou Reed at Lou Reed’s party. Diana Ross sat off to the side and conferred with three-quarters of Kiss at Lou Reed’s party. Smart.

Robert Duncan

lory Gallagher In Poland...Or Is It Altoona, Pa.???

The things that pass over a rock editor's deskl Here, d standard offering from a rec. company publicist: a picture of his artists, smiling, in a FOREIGN COUNTRY* This time, behind the Iron Curtain, no less. Only upon close inspection, it looks like Rory and his band are STANDING ON A STREET IN DOWNTOWN CLEVELAND. Is that fellow walking behind Rory on his way to the corner for some kielbasa, or actually on route to the local Safeway for some milk and Twinkles? You'll never knowl Next month: Jethro Tull in Uganda.

John Lennon, Young Ruffian

NEW YORK—The popular image of John Lennon is that, he was a germ-free, poetryspouting Ronnie Howard type before he started dropping acid and walking around with Kotex on his head.

Not so, says Allen Williams, the Beatles’ first manager, who is currently touring the country with his book, The Man Who Gave Away The Beatles. “You Americans thought the Beatles were clean cut and nice guys,” Williams told David Peel of the Yipster Times, “But I could tell you, John Lennon used to freak out in the middle of parties, drop his pants, shit on the floor, and stomp his cigarette out in it.”

Lennon was also indirectly responsible for the near demise of the famed Cavern club early on. All the girls were scrawling graffiti in the john like “John Lennon has the biggest prick in Liverpool” so the Public Health authorities gave Williams a closing order. He got out of it by hiring Lennon and thenBeatle Stu Sutcliffe to decor-, ate the walls. “I had the best psychedelic toilets in the whole of England.”

Brian Epstein and Lennon developed a particularly antagonistic relationship. Although Williams says that Epstein originally “fell in love with them homosexually” when he saw jhem in their old leather gear, it was he who demanded that they change to their famous collarless suits. John was so infuriated that he tried to punch Epstein out, but realizing that Brian would probably love it, he beat up Billy J. Kramer instead and was about to start on Peter and Gordon before he was stopped.

All this plus smoking dope in Buckingham Palace and pissing from London Bridge —maybe the Bureau of Immigration was right after all.

Rick Johnson

Kiss Army Casualty Report

WORLD HQTRS.-In widespread incidents reminiscent -of the Alice Cooper Hangings of a few years back, the Kiss Army is turning out to be its own worst enemy. While attempting to imitate the flame-puking Gene Simmons, several junior Rich Littles very nearly Buddhist Monked themselves.

•In Dallas, one genius lit up a mouthful of lighter fluid and then inhaled instead of exhaling, scorching the lining of his lungs and ruining a perfectly acceptable soprano.

•In Tampa, another character tried the same trick but had the wind blow the flames right back at him, resulting in burns covering 35% of his upper body.

•And imMontreal, a third Kiss whiz dropped a burning can of fluid on his unsuspecting lap. He now reads everything he can get his hands on about turtles.

Contacted in New York about the burning desire some fans have to imitate his onstage antics, Simmons commented, “Gee, that’s dumb. That one kid will probably have to wear lefthanded underwear for life.”

Rick Johnson

Canucks Take Heart

VANCOUVER, B.C.—The first time I heard Hearts “Crazy On You” I was in a crowded gift shop. The disc jockey had not intro’ed the song and I was going to stick around to find out who it was but then it got segued into “Whippin’ Post” and I didn’t have twenty spare minutes to waste. Figured I’d catch the song some other time. The next time proved to be while I was at the supermarket; there was that song again, coming oyer the speakers (it was after eight and the kid shift had switched off the muzak and switched on the FM rock), except that.1 didn’t want to blow my spot in the express check-out line and again, I didn’t catch the name of the group. Similar instances began occurring regularly—I’d hit the song midway through on the radio but something would interfere. A phone call from a relative, a knock at the door, my roommate’s cat pissing in the living room.,

I resigned myself to my fate. I would go through life wondering if that great woman’s voice really ever existed. Maybe I missed the Savage Rose and the Shocking Blue so much I mentally invented my own rock group with a female lead singer. I’m sittin’ home one day and a PR person calls to ask if I’d like to interview one Ann Wilson from a group called Heart on Saturday morning. Since I’ve decided to lay off Isis for a while, I agree. Besides, I’ve never heard of this band and that-sounds like fun—I mean why should I always be the one asking questions? So I get this album, Dreamboat Annie, in the mail on Friday and I look at the cover: Two very pretty young ladies with bare shoulders. Curiosity aroused, I succumb and slap the album on the turntable and, my God! That song, It is real! I’m not going crazy! Must be Kismet, y’know?

Ann Wilson, Heart’s vocalist, sits on the floor between the two beds in her hotel room, and tells me Heart’s history. They are not, as one would think, an overnight sensation. In fact, Heart has been around/for over seven years. “My sister Nancy [Heart’s acoustic guitarist and, with Ann, cocomposer of all of Heart’s material] and I were always really close. We shared a bedroom, listened to music together, all that junk. We had a folk group for awhile, but I was feeling hemmed in by acoustic music, so I split and joined different rock bands until I met up with Roger [Fisher, guitarist] and Steve [Fossen, bass player] who were in a group called Heart. We were in Seattle, but we moved to Vancouver and 2V2 years ago, Nancy decided she’d had her fill of college and joined us.”

Roger, Steve, Ann and Nancy recorded Dreamboat A^nnie in Vancouver with the help of some studio musicians and soon the album, on tiny Mushroom Records, began to take off. I mention that the record has a pretty schized-out soynd. “Well,” Ann admits, “it was rough with studio musicians helping out. We’ve got a whole band now, but with hired musicians on the album, some songs got a little too formalized, you know, guys sitting there with charts, not really understanding what the songs were about or really having the right feel.”

Vocally and lyrically schized too, I may add. Ann sometimes sounds quite fragile, as on the title cut, but on others like the frenetic “Crazy On' You,” there’s ferocity that’s almost overpowering. The lyrics are sometimes passive and other times quite aggressive. “That’s really pretty natural to me,” Ann says. “Both Nancy and I are very temperamental and moody. We write from a very emotional base. To approach songwriting from just one standpoint would be a bore., There are so many textures you can reach—soft, a well protected flower, and the next minute rising up to rule the universe.”

Ann admits that’s she’s a bit tired of the most frequently asked question, namely the role of women in rock; but yes, she’ll answer it: “There’s been such a great gap between me.n and women in rock; I think the most important thing is to not lose yourself in wanting so much to be a star. A lot of women think that by being aggressive and* macho they’ll get somewhere, but that’ll only take you so far. Maybe the rock world needs someone symbolizing a “normal” woman, if you know what I mean. Someone with normal female desires, not largar than life. Not coming onstage and giving the impression that they sleep with every guy in the band twice, in one hour,and then go looking to take the roadies on.”

Talking to Ann, one senses that she’s thought about this stuff quite a bit and is trying to keep it as low key as possible, which is kinda nice in these media overblown times. She just wants to sing and she’s been doing it long enough not to get too carried away by the sudden success. I’m sure that by the time Heart’s next album is released, the radio DJ’ll make sure we know who we’re hearing both before he plays the song and right after it’s over, because this group appears to have a solid future ahead of them. Now, anybody out there who can tell me what the Savage Rose are up to today?

Billy Altman

Tubesuckers’ Dilemma Solved

SPRING GROVE, ILL.— According to national statistics, falling asleep with the TV on has lately reached cult proportions due primarily to the marketing of a handy humdrum device, the TV Timer. Thanks to this gadget, late night addicts can still lull themselves to sleep without hassle by using the timer to switch off the set two hours after they begin snoozing.

Comments one video insomniac: “We find that not worrying about awakening at 2 a.m. to thrn off the TV removes another nagging thought that might have kept usawake.” Robot A. Hull