MOTOR CITY NIGHTS!!

Gories, Oblivians, Brother Cartright, Brother James

and Barbiturate Heaven . . . REVISITED

By Detroit Jack, Phallus Press Writer - Sat June 28, 3:59 am TT

Photos by Detroit Jack

Back in the Motor City after a ten year hiatus in Tokyo, mission one upon landing . . . get Gories/Oblivians tickets! Mission two . . . get stoned . . .and I nearly did, when I made a case for the "Not god bless America, but, goddamn America" statement, and offered a reasoned argument defending Bill Ayers: well, it was nice to see the family anyway.

But, more importantly, The Gories/Oblivians! Got my pass to the show of the year at the rockin' Majestic Theater on Woodward two weeks in advance, and thank Heidegger for that, because it sold out within days. Following The Dogs "Rustbelt Tour" the previous week, getting my SRB album signed by Scott Morgan, and finally getting stoned, what more could a philosophical beat rocker ask for . . . , than a one man rooftop gig by the master heartstring puller himself, Brother Greg Cartwright and his gathering of disciples in the Garden (that video at a later date!).

I'm not going to review any of these shows, because there is nothing to say. If you were in Detroit and didn't make these shows, well, you must have the best damn lie in the world. If you were one of the well informed, and made the shows, well . . . we still might be stupid human tricks, but at least we grasped a hold of something righteous and worthy.

To prove my point, I happened to be blessed in the company of Brother Cartwright and his disciples on the day of the sacrament (of which we partook), by the one and only Sinister Six man himself Brother James!! Now, this truly was a miracle, that this soul rockin' toxic soil should be anointed by thee kings of the Far East, West, South and North to bring Human Nature sinner-gy back to Motown.

True story: I begged Brother Rick to stop by Hitsville U.S.A. an hour before we found out Michael had followed Thee King to barbiturate heaven.

Rock Soon,
Detroit Jack

Droid Bats In The Belfry . . .

By Detroit Jack, Phallus Press Writer - Sat March 11, 11:43 pm TT

Photos by Detroit Jack

Brushing hardened steel shoulders as we ascended the darkened well, one could not assess the features behind the direct gazes of the android beings as they passed.

Winds bristled our locks with the sounds of deeper intent as we neared the light that focused our gaze as we climbed.

Breaking the proscenium seemed a sacrilegious act, though few attempts garnered a following, theee Bat laid waste to any forbidden sacrament.

Flaying into the unsuspecting punters, leveling them at their knees with the thuds of meat on anvils, the mutant Android Beach Party was just getting under way.

With Chants of R&B, theee Bat pulled at the breast strings of scantily clad droids, who unwittingly bargained with the flutters of night in hopes of andraulic regeneration.

Droplets of sulfuric damage speckled the floor of fangs that lapped their mouths by the toes of leaking droids as the frenzy ensued.