Wayne Kramer talking about reading bad review of MC5 while tripping

Wayne Kramer still remembers reading Lester Bangs’ bad review of Kick Out The Jams in Rolling Stone. From the review: Most of the songs are barely distinguishable from each other in their primitive two-chord structures. You've heard all this before from such notables as the Seeds, Blue Cheer, Question Mark and the Mysterians, and the Kingsmen.

Wayne K: My entire motivation was a knee jerk reaction to the criticism I got from Lester Bangs. His review in Rolling Stone fucked me up.  I was on acid, I read the review on acid, and I’m young and creative and believing the hype, and my heart sank. He was a young writer, trying to make his bones, so he thought he’d say something provocative and contrary to the current consensus, as people were loving the MC5. And he was going to come out and say 'these guys talk a good game, but they can’t tune their own guitars.' Writers had been coming out on junkets and then writing glowing reviews about us, hired by the record label. It was paid for. Like most people, I thought you got in the paper on merit. That isn’t how it really works in the world. So I’m on acid, and I’m reading the review, and the guy is just ripping us apart. It got to me because I knew there were great weaknesses in the band and the music, the rhythm section in particular. The bass playing and the drumming.

Dennis Thompson of the MC5 on playing over the volume of Sonic Smith and Wayne Kramer

Dennis Thompson, drummer MC5: Well, I wasn’t impervious to the volume when the boys bought Marshalls.  You see, back in those days the PA systems in the clubs we played were very very primitive. And drummers were never mic’ed.  So the guys had Marshalls and they played hard and loud, the volume was on 10.  I had to develop a style of playing extremely hard for the drums to cut through that wall of electrical sound. I had blood blisters underneath my skin, calluses on every one of my fingers on my left hand.  They would all explode every time I played so my left hand was just raw meat.

What I didn’t like about it was that I couldn’t play anything more delicately. You know, something more on the lines of, you know, 32nd notes and double-stroke rolls and things that require your wrists and not your arms. I had to use wrists and arms and play really fuckin’ hard for the drums to cut through.  I would get comments all the time that, you know, ‘Dennis you gotta play a little louder. ‘

So I would just hit until I was just really, really playing hard.  I was breaking cymbals.  Sinclair used to be so pissed.  But I was breaking 22” cymbals, one a week.  I’d go through 20 or 30 drum pairs of drumsticks per two shows, three shows. We used to order them by the gross, 5B and 2S.  Big.  2S is lumber.  That’s how you learned how to play the rudiments, with the big fat sticks.  Heavy sticks, so it builds up your wrist.  I’d break a rim on the snare drum, bass drum pedals, bass drum heads, tom tom heads. Unbelievable shit that I wouldn’t do now because nowadays you’ve got the remote in-ears and I’ve got the sound just the way I want it, dialed in, ‘cuz I’ve got a 16 track mixer. But back then, like I said, the band’s putting out a loud, ferocious sound that you had to play over.

Insider Comments on/from Detroit Rock City

This is the t-shirt. Why not?

Detroit Rock City is out and there are stories in there that my pal and fellow traveler Tim Caldwell has picked up on and carried away. He writes stories fed by experience and knowledge – which only occasionally are mutually exclusive – in a stream-of-brain feed fashion. All readable and filled with insight. Try this:

did jack/joker bob 'the knob/blob' madigan 

de-throne the king of shock rock alice cooper 

when he approached the rock star with a vial containing 

an aborted human fetus and asked him to autograph it?

{to his credit (!?) i believe ac did sign the dead baby jar}.

  would this mean the man known for inventing shock rock theatrics 

held onto the title or thereby passed it onto 
a hard core gg allin fan 
mainly known for hooking up folks to a hand crank generator 

& giving the chain of hand holding fools 
in audience a collective jolt,

his human ostrich side show talent of swallowing and regurgitating items,

and fronting bands (slaughterhouse/cum dumpster)
that made flipper sound like speed freaks

in comparison?

best,

t

   when one of madigan's hooligan 

band members let it be known

they were going to gift me 
with a fetus/embryo 

i responded while one one level 
i could appreciate

the inverse logic / symbolic gesture 
of an unborn 

gifted as a birthday present

i graciously had to decline the offer

as in good conscience 
could not accept the gift

unless the proud folks who conceived it 

were the givers...

In the book, the great band Slaughterhouse gets a mention – vocalist Bob Madigan’s love of pig porn, specifically – so that is the Bob that Tim refers to. The band was always surrounded by fringe players who should have all become famous in one way or another. More from Tim:

was thinking about madigan's band c.d. (appropriate acronym if i ever heard one) after re-reading drc. their second best show* i saw was at the red door after hours (former club house space). the band and a good portion of the audience were tripping. rachel nagy and cara lundgren (daughter of grande ballroom artist carl) were still like 17-19 yr old strippers (at silver cricket on mich by telegraph among other venues**). 
they both roomed at the monroe manor next to bronx bar.

the gals were 1/2 to nearly naked while the band cum dumpster 

played their heavy dirges (to my mind sounding like a slower version 

of that groaning/droning vanilla fudge beatles cover) .

they were psychedelic style body painting each other.
there was dim lighting, maybe a strobe and gelled can or two,
as one could thereby create moody atmosphere on the cheap.

the ladies also cavorted in the shower with a large glass door 
situated in the middle of the room.

that figured in their dance/grope fest perf ,too.

steve shaw and joe s. took photos.

 

Then he refers to chatter in the book from a couple of players.

nawara and livingstone were right in their assessments 
of the excruciating power of the band to instill fear n loathing.

their credo seemed to have been borrowed from flipper-

  we suffered for our art/

now it's your turn.

{max bummer stoner rock- the cheech & chong routine shtick
about playing black sabbath at 16 rpm.s on 'cid & seeing god
or satan in their case}

  rachel used to be a butcher so her mentioning the stiletto 

in a dudes crotch would've been a serious threat.

dress em out like a thanksgiving turkey

and stuff their giblets in maw.

have you ever witnessed up close that mischievous/

maniacal glint in her eyes?

  the cobras second performance was at the old miami

after a dally in the alley.

i showed a sound 16mm film clip of bessie smith 
before the band went on.

that would set the bar pretty high intimidating many people 
but not rachel & co.

when i complimented her on her performance she said

'yeah tim, you see i'm not just a whhhooooorrreee'

cracking me up.

she's a great performer,
a classic beauty,
sweetheart who'd as soon kiss ya 
as spit on ya 
&/or stick ya.***

   the timmy v. mention of her having mooned the audience and writing on cheeks

made me recall the post wedding reception (kev monroe) party 

of  at the euclid tavern in spudville,oh.

the cobras performed and she grabbed zoot's mgr. aaron anderson 
and jammed his face in her ass (with clothes on) whilst on all 4's onstage.

at the end of the night it was the detroiters dressed in wedding formal finery vs

the local yokels territorial stand off.

And finally, Tim refers to a point in the book in which John Brannon talks about living near Michael Davis from the MC5 in Ann Arbor.

 

that chick that lived with hyenas on platt road 
that went out with mike davis was real odd.

weird passive aggressive dead pan vibe.

she had blunt cut bangs a long ass dark mane 
and wore a bullet belt like her dishonorably discharged 
guitar army/ trans love beau. 
pretty sure she was in a band called dog soldier.

larissa and john were annoyed that she kept a dead pet parrot 
or parakeet in the freezer.
through winter ,spring and summer
refusing to plant it.

The best thing about getting anything from Tim is that it’s true, no need for embellishment. He’s part of Detroit Rock City with an eye for reality, and likely has more stories than anyone.

Excellent Look in 1975 at Detroit’s Dying Concert Scene

 I was looking at this story and photo of the Cobo Hall marquee from 1975. Damn, that’s an impressive roster of bands coming down the line in November. I saw the Roxy Music show, Styx and Angel the unlikely openers. The story laments the passing of an era, one in which out of town bands dwarfed the locals, a switch from the previous decade, when visitors would be blown off the stage by Detroit’s wrecking crews. Cream? Fuck ‘em, we’ve got the MC5. Alice Cooper? Got so into the Detroit bands it was seeing on its never ending early tours that the band moved to a house on Brown Road in Pontiac and wrote Love It To Death and some songs for Killer.

This story ran as the Michigan Palace was about to close and Ford Auditorium, which had hosted everyone from the Stooges to Deep Purple in the preceding few years, was also on the way out.

The biggest things with a Detroit name attached were Bob Seger and Ted Nugent, who were both in the process of being all sold out. There was no more seedy, hungry, lean bands making music because it felt good. That would have to wait for another five years, when punk rock hit the city. Along the way, The Romantics put some power in pop and came out with a couple Detroit-vibed singles, “Little White Lies” and  “Tell it To Carrie.” The band’s debut album hit #61 on the charts in 1980. It was Detroit’s success story.

But back to the 1975 story; It’s a well-written, well reported story by Frank Bach, who was also vocalist in The Up, one more Detroit band of the Grande Ballroom era.  While the story is brief, it describes the last leg of concert rock in Detroit, before megacorporations took over the radio and the booking. And the Ann Arbor Sun? The paper founded in 1967 by John Sinclair had another year left. Everything has a beginning and an end.

The Box Tops in East Lansing, Michigan, 1968

The Box Tops at Grandmothers, East Lansing, Mich. 1968. Recognize these autographs? I was 10 years old and have no idea what I was doing at a matinee show at this place. What I remember: They did “The Letter” and “Cry Like a Baby.” Keyboardist Rick Allen was really drunk that day and sat at a table after the show near the front of the place. Tom Boggs was the drummer, and he was kind enough to personalize the autograph. Gary was Gary Talley, the guitarist. And there's the signature of Alex Chilton, 17 years old. He would turn 18 in December, and I’m sure this was either fall or summer. I missed getting the autograph of Bill Cunningham for some reason.

I was what was referred to painfully at my elementary school as a “prof’s kid,” or the offspring of a professor at Michigan State University. I say painfully because our folks were consumed with work, which gave us free reign to run around the town and wreak havoc, which had few bounds even for 10 year olds. We egged houses, toilet papered yards, stole shit, had dirt clod fights and were chased by the cops a lot. We also hung around the university kids, copped their tossed skin mags from Dumpsters and went to the cool records stores in East Lansing. In addition to catching the Box Tops, I also recall seeing Frank Zappa and the Mothers play in an open area on campus, and an MC5 soundcheck at a little building in a park called Valley Court. It was good to love rock and roll as a pre adolescent, setting the stage for mayhem inside.