LETTERS

LETTERS

Please send your letters to:

Mall Dept., CREEM Magazine, P.O. Box P-1064, Birmingham, Ml 48012.

BORDERING ON GREATNESS!

I thought that someone had put Time magazine in my mailbox by mistake when I saw your “new border” around the cover. I hate the border. The border must go. The border is a dirty place down here. Send the border back to the border. Love the magazine—HATE the border. I hope this letter isn’t too vague. I like Hawkwind. Please kill the border.

Kevin R.

San Antonio, TX

WE LOSE!

I’m hoping, (no, praying!) that you’ll never ever do a story on the Monkees. (or print a picture of them for that matter!) ’Cuz, if you do, not only will I cancel my subscription, I’ll scratch my nails on your blackboard. And if you still insist on reporting on them, I swear to God, I’m gonna sing to you guys—certainly cruel and inhuman punishment. SO THERE!

Relocated Valley Gal

Los Angeles, CA

GRACEFUL, adj.:

LIKE A PRETTY BALLERINA IN A BEAUTIFUL PINK TUTU

I write this letter with mixed feelings. On the one hand, I would like to commend you for finally having something good to say in your magazine, i.e., Sylvie Simmons’s admission that Turbo is a great album, which indeed it is. On the other hand, I think Ms. Simmons was a real prick (yes, a prick) to ask Rob Halford if he were gay. What the hell difference should it make to you, bitch? I applaud Mr. Halford for the graceful way he side-stepped such a dumb-ass question; I would’ve been less polite.

Defender Of The Faith

Huntsville, AL

WHOSE SON IS MENDELSSOHN?

The September issue solved a burning question for me, namely “Why does CREEM persist in printing John Mendelssohn’s garbage?” Since John M. himself says that Dave DiMartino was inspired to enter journalism by reading one of his (John M.’s) works of literary art, obviously Dave D.M. keeps John M. around because of some warped sense of loyalty or gratitude!

f mean, why else would an otherwise intelligent and enjoyable publication inflict upon its faithful readers every month (and I do mean every month) the ravings of Mr. Mendelssohn? Is this man incapable of writing even a single article

without inserting some reference to how he was once a musician himself, how he used to dress up in glitter duds during said musical career, or how he used to be a powerful rock critic who could ruin groups’ careers with a single swipe of his mighty pen?

He’s blithe! He’s glad!

He’s joyful! He’s debonair! He’s cheerful! He’s merry! He’s...

One of your letter writers in the September issue suggested that you start covering “real” music, like Ozzy, Metallica, Randy Rhoads, etc. I think this is the perfect job for Mr. Mendelssohn. In fact, he should immediately be placed on the Randy Rhoads beat, and only allowed to write an article when there is a new record release or concert tour by Randy Rhoads. In the meantime, let him sit at home and wank over his scrapbook, and not in the pages of CREEM.

Yours,

Disgusted CREEM Reader

North Vancouver, B.C., Canada

P.S. Did you realize that with exchange rates* it is cheaper for Canadians to buy CREEM at the newsstand every month, rather than subscribe? I buy CREEM every time I see it, but someone somewhere in your distribution system is screwing up, and it doesn’t show up every month in this corner of the world. I can’t afford to subscribe—can you correct this problem? He’p!

ZEE...ZEE...ZEE...

I don’t have any idea what to say, or if writing anything will do any good, but here goes nothing. Or, as Lou Reed said (first song on Street Hassle, I can’t remember the name), “It’s been a long time since I’ve spoken to you, is it the right time?”

Your critics’ list of 10 favorites was very informative. I was delighted to discover that I liked Rick Johnson’s best. I know he hasn’t really kept up with the standards he himself set a few years ago, but I gotta tell you, Rick: there was a time when you made my life worthwhile (I’ll still never get over that Journey review). His review of Hear ’N’ Aid shows that he still has some of the old fire left in him.

Man, so much has happened since I last wrote. Live shows. John Cougar Mellencamp was dynamite at the Oakland Coliseum. When he and his band went into James Brown’s “Cold Sweat,” it was like all over, man. Dylan & Petty were the stuff dreams are made of at the Greek Theatre in Berkeley. (I love Dylan’s latest also; I don’t care what anybody says. I mean, who else but the Zim would release an album that bears almost nothing in common with his coinciding tour?)

I really blew it at the Fillmore with the Replacements. I ended up over to one side right in front of the speaker and the sound sucked. It was much better there the next week for Husker Du, when I was back farther but closer to the middle. Husker Du, by the way, were also surprisingly awesome. Grant Hart is a gas, and I mean they captivated that room.

The Amnesty Show at the Cow Palace was also the greatest. By mishap, we ended up in the fifth row, right in front of the stage. Got to our seats just as Lou Reed was finishing up “No Money Down” and slamming into “Walk On The Wild Side.” I wanna tell you it was a thrill to see my hero so close and in his element, even if it was only for a couple of songs. I wanna say, though, that when it comes to recent record releases, things are sometimes not what they seem. Let’s talk about a few of my favorite artists’ latest. Lou Reed’s last couple of albums, for example. You’ve heard of home movies? Lou makes home records, for Pete’s sake! It’s like Neil Young’s new album, which also stinks. On the other hand, you’ve got Bob Dylan’s and Van Morrison’s new albums: now these guys know how to make an album. However, Lou Reed could probably recite the proverbial telephone book on record if he wanted to and I’d still buy it. I just wish he’d give us another Transformer or Sally Can’t Dance or Berlin, for Christ’s sake. Something with some texture to it and not so one-dimensional for a change.

Anyway, I’ve been meaning to write you all for such a long time, and more than that I can’t think of anything to say. Mendelssohn, Kordosh, Holdship and DiMartino, please keep up the great work. (By the way, Be’o, what the heck is CKLW?)

John McCutcheon San Francisco, CA P.S.: I can’t figure out how the greatest rock magazine comes from Detroit. How do you do it?

THE DISTANT QUACK ECHOES!

I still like CREEM, despite the omission of its better features—and if I’ve got a good buzz going, the magazine seems a damn bit more interesting than it really is. Yeah, it still has a few redeeming qualities: Eleganza, nifty pictures, MTV insults. Sometimes an escapee of the old guard even slides an amusing caption past Ed. and I get a good chuckle. But Gregg Turner’s review of Journey’s Raised On Radio was a glaring example of everything I dislike about the new CREEM format. It’s another case of a writer more concerned with indulging his own self-interest than with informing the reader about what he was supposed to write about in the first trotting place. Maybe if Gregg was to satisfy his urges for that Chesapeake Bay Retriever, he’d be relaxed enough to tell me exactly what he thought of the album.

Lee Crockett Belle, WV

(Next time, please have a big person help you with your letter.—Ed.)

“SUBTLE”??

I am writing to you concerning your June 1986 issue, page 64 Hostess luncheon plate photograph. I am hurt and truly offended by your subtle references to Bobby Blotzer’s weight problem. It was bad enough when Ms. Finn said he was fat in her article last year, but this is too much. Everyone seems to think that you have to be tall and thin—almost emaciated, in many cases—to be a rock star. Apparently, if a guy is the slightest bit overweight, you have to make fun of him. I’d be willing to bet my last Twinkie that half the writers at CREEM are fat slobs who live on Hostess luncheon plates. Mr. Blotzer is a fine drummer— so what if he likes to eat? Next time, how about embarassing Ozzy or Meat Loaf or someone who really is FAT.

Monica Benson Arlington, VA

“GEDDY AS PARROT” INTERESTING, YET FLAWED!

I was going to subscribe to CREEM until I saw something in the back of your magazine—a picture of guys in Ratt holding a parrot, and underneath it, it says: “We figured this was the only way we could get Geddy Lee in CREEM.”

For your information, I felt this was the cruelest thing I have ever seen. Rush is the greatest group in the world, and their music means everything to me.

Cindy Cowen Belding, Ml