Tim Brough's Black Leather Bookshelf

Young and Rich; 4 Stars, Now; 3 Stars
4 Out Of 5 Stars

Finally, a sound upgrade for The Tubes' "Young and Rich." Or for that matter, that it's back in print at non-extortion prices. The Tubes got some serious road work in after their first album, and it shows on "Young And Rich." They also had a more sympathetic producer in Ken Scott (over Al Kooper's helming of album one). Scott gave "Young And Rich" a sense of discipline, and you need go no further than "Tubes World Tour" to catch how fast the Tubes had grown under his control in the studio. A tightly wound if somewhat exaggerated account of the mayhem that trailed in the wake of The Tubes' concerts, it has a conciseness that the first album lacked.

The range displayed on "Young And Rich" is also evident on the album's next two songs. "Pimp" and "Brighter Day" feature vocals from Bill Spooner and Roger Steen, giving the individual Tubes a chance to prove they were more than Fee's backers. But Waybill (listed here as "method frontman") struts his stuff admirably. His finest moments on "Young And Rich" come with the progressive opus "Poland Whole/Madam I'm Adam" (where Fee reluctantly is cast as man one in God's creation porno-movie and Cher is his Eve) and the almost Top 40 "Don't Touch Me There" duet with Re Styles.

A highlight of their live shows, "Don't Touch Me There" sent up girl groups with a Phil Spector wall of innuendo that was at once finely crafted and hilarious. It's the kind of media satire that would be honed to perfection by their next album. In fact, the only misstep here is "Proud To be An American," which plays it too close to "What Do You Want From Life" to come off as clever. Other than that, "Young And Rich" comes highly recommended and shows The Tubes ducking the dreaded sophomore slump.

The same could not be said of "Now," which could be The Tubes' most experimental album. That's not saying the music is all too interesting, frankly, it's not. There was everything here from fusion jazz experimentation ("God-Bird-Change," the main contribution from one album member Mingo Lewis) to a Captain Beefheart cover of "My Head Is My Only House Unless It Rains." Which was apparently enough to get the Captain himself to sit in on sax for the otherwise draggy "Cathy's Clone," Re Styles' vocal contribution to "Now." On the original liner notes to the LP, The Tubes gave heavy acknowledgement of having recently discovering The Ramones. So in tribute, they nick Dee Dee's trademark "One Two Three Four" kickoff and insert it twice into "You're No Fun."

Fun is exactly what is missing from "Now." There are a couple of Tubes Classics here ("Smoke" and "Pound Of Flesh," in which Fee brags about being a 98 pound weakling with another, more serious attribute). But for a band that made their bones on outrageousness and top-notch musicianship, "Now" comes up short. They'd blow "Now" out of the water soon after with the genius of "Remote Control." Think of it as parallel to Alice Cooper's lackluster "Muscle of Love" before the brilliant "Welcome To My Nightmare" concept.

As a pair, it's worth having just to get the disc of "Young and Rich."

When You Move Me, Everything Is Groovy
5 Out of 5 Stars

Proving that "Save Me San Francisco" was no fluke, Train roll on with their career's second act with "California 37." They've matured into a first class pop band, wielding hooks alongside an often bizarre sense of humor. Kind of like Maroon 5, but without the teen-idol thing going on. They're even smart enough to self-reference their surprising comeback on the opening song by giving lead singer Pat Monahan the opportunity to give both a history of his life and the evolution of Train in under four minutes, but to thank the band's fans and then do it all without the least bit of irony. "This'll Be My Year" alone would put the album at 4 stars just for compositional value alone.

However, "California 37" has plenty of other charms. There's the twisted "50 Ways to Say Goodbye," in which Monahan cuts down an ex-lover by singing "How could you leave me on Yom Kippur?" The mariachi inspired horns on "Drive By" (a great single, by the way), lift that song into a fun and unusual direction, and the title track again turns to Train's fans and thanks them for being there when the band wasn't in the spotlight.

Relationships are also put to the test, song-wise, including "You Can Finally Meet My Mom," sung as a plaintive love song with a straight face. Country singer Ashley Monroe sings along in a duet about old flames getting back together in "Bruises," made ironic by the fact that both parties are coming down from bad relationships. Train keeps making these very standard sounding pop songs that have crispy tops, so the temptation to call "Highway 37" perfect is awfully close. I'm giving it the benefit of the doubt. At the very least it's a 4.5 just on the unconventionality of the lyrics and the fact that I've been listening to it for over a year without getting tired of it.

You can identify some of these folks!



A stop at Whatever! (Thanks Daddy Cougar!)





And while at BootCamp, my friend and the gent I am working on a book with, Trooper Frank (right) and his boy Paul



And a campside critter....

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Joel and I used some airline miles and an invite from our friend Peter Fiske to attend Palm Springs Leather Weekend. It was nice to get out of the house for a change and try to alleviate the fact that my depression has reached an almost crushing level of despair, along with my computer networking class being far and away harder than I ever imagined it to be.

Luckily, there are only two of us in the course and that allows the prof to answer all of my annoying questions. I fear I may not be able to catch up to the level of technology the course involves.

However, let's share some of the pictures.

My friend Alex Ironrod opened the weekend by reading from his new novel "Leather Nights" (a murder mystery) at Gear. I was pleasantly surprised by the turnout for him. I should add that I wrote his back-cover blurb.

My friend Bryce, whom I had not seen for a few years. This was in the party behind the Tool Shed where I'd set up a book table.


Mikal Bales (aka Daddy Zeus of Zeus Studios) took the time to come over to The Barracks on Saturday to say hello. He may be one of the men in California that I've missed the most since moving away. His new beau, Mick, is very sweet.


The gentleman here, Marshall, was a close friend of my late master, Gary Taylor. We had not seen each other since 1999. We had a long and somewhat emotional talk while he visited.


The notorious Gagbear and George (WetInSF) visited. It was nice to finally meet Jim after years of chat.

In what I can only say was the oddest moment of the weekend, singer Gregory Gray walked up to my table and said - in a thick Irish accent - "You don't even remember who I am, do ya?"

He was right, I didn't.  I interviewed Gregory over the phone in 1994 for Frontiers Magazine when his album "Euroflake In Silverlake" was released. When he played a show at the Virgin Megastore, I picked him up and we went to The Faultline for a wild night. He picked up a date and returned to his hotel after a few hours, and I'd not seen him since. That he remembered me and decided to hang out again was delightful and fun. Turns out he's a PS regular now and we have several mutual friends.



Of course, it wouldn't be a hot weekend if there weren't plenty of good looking men running about. (Hi Nipper!) That is, until The Barracks got busted for overcrowding (and yes, the place was mobbed), and the cops cleared everyone out. My first ever bar raid! Ah, well.

Then it was on-board the big old jet airliner for the trip home, for which we had enough miles to get first class seats. I never realized how comfortable flying could be before this. It made the end of the weekend easier to deal with. We arrived home to one very happy kitty. Now it's back to studies.

I am going to make a great effort to write more posts and reviews, if only to force my brain to write things.

Who's the king of the whole wide world?
4 Out Of 5 Stars

A friend of mine with a great comic store in SF (Hello, daddycoug at Whatever!) recommended Rex Mundi to me after we chatted about my love of older comics like Doc Savage and the earlier Batman stories. he certainly pegged me correctly, as Rex Mundi Vol 1 hooked me instantly. Writer Arvid Nelson concocted a search for the Holy Grail unlike one you've heard before, and artist Eric J created a rich and beautifully drawn alternate world.

In this world, France is the dominant power in Europe. In the USA, the Civil War ended in a draw, even if slave ships are not allowed in European Waters. Most importantly, Catholicism has an iron clad grip on how things are determines, and magic/sorcery has its own guild. The Inquisition is the highest law in the land, and their ruthless efficiency makes any sort of investigations difficult. In this world operates one Dr Julius Sauniere, a physician who seems to have taken the role of doctor to the downtrodden. When an old friend and priest tells Dr Sauniere that a mythical scroll that no-one short of the Pope knows about may have been stolen, and that a wicked form of sorcery may have been the culprit, the good Dr is drawn into the mystery.

Before you can say Indiana Jones, the Dr is being launched into a series of murders, political intrigue, and the very dangerous attention of the Inquisitor Guild. Dr Sauniere plays like a cross between Jones and The DaVinci Code (which, incidentally, was published after the first volume of Rex Mundi), with the added twist of the world operating in the 1930's but often reading like modern times. The story is similar to most of these kinds of religious mysteries, but the artwork is sublime. There's a lot of detail in every drawing, especially the historic features of Paris. I am now eager to start moving through the rest of the series.

One caveat that was very disappointing: the book's cover slipped from the spine on the first read. Poor quality manufacturing.