Look around! Anger in the news. Anger in music. Anger in comments left at the Betty Crocker forum. Anger in the half-played board game collecting dust on a forgotten table somewhere.
Even in the eyes of the stranger staring at you from the mirror.
And he’s pissed.
It’s scary, man. But I’ve got a plan.
I’m gonna collect all those people that matter to me; all those people that I love. I’m gonna collect them and tell them there ain’t no more anger. Or bitterness. Or cynicism.
Those days as an angry young dog are behind me.
Are they behind you?
.
.
.
But then I get to thinkin’.
Hey, Dad! Remember the time you were called in to pick me up at the Parma Police station at 3 o’clock one Saturday morning? Remember how you spit in my face and declared me a disgust?
I do.
I remember it like one of those grainy VHS tapes of something recorded off late-night t.v.; low contrasted and jagged-edged with just a whisper of disjointed sound crackling through the static.
Still… I do have to admit my admiration. With nothing but Colt 45 malt liquor and saliva, you managed to create a black hole.
There isn’t a scientist alive who can say the same.
But I kid myself more than I kid you all.
The angry young dog will always morph into a mistrustful hog, rooting not for truffles – but for fragmented confidences.
Finding slim pickings, self-consumption typically begins with the tail and ends at the snout.
But…
But I do got a plan.
I’m gonna collect all those people that mattered to me; all those people that I loved. I’m gonna collect them and bury them like a dog does his bone.
Artists do their purest work in obscurity, with minimum feedback from any kind of audience. With no audience to consider, artists are free to create work that is true to their own vision.
In an attempt to educate my daughter without the benefit of spoken word (because the spoken word is passe these days), I went through a spell handfuls of years ago where I wrote mini blurbs on the various musicians I feel important enough to share with her. Considering I have only gotten her into two point five of the artists featured, I am leaning towards learning Sign Language as means of communication.
I could probably get more across.
L-R: Jamie Kaufman, Page Wood, Ralf Mann, Elena Glasberg, George Elliott
One such blubbering blurb that caught her eyes and ears concerned the ’70s No/New Wave band Come On. Actually, she thought Elena Glasberg, rhythm guitarist, cute enough to give them a try. “She’s surrounded by boys!” – “I bet they made her wear that shirt…”
I first became aware of Come On’s music in 1987. A groovy friend had made it his mission to collect as many ‘Now Wave’ singles as humanly possible – preferably on one well-worn cassette, which he copied for anyone that asked. Or didn’t, as was my case. He called it ‘Now Wave’ simply because he was so sick of the New/No Wave arguments that trickled back to us Mid-Western Next Gens. He was a smart guy.
Buried amidst the 72 variants of Siouxsie and the Banchees, deep on the ‘B’ side was a single and accompanying flip side that dealt entirely with kitchens. That’s right: Kitchens.
Self-Released 7″, 1978 – Front CoverSelf-released 7″, 1978 – Back
As most of those around me were musically ignorant – combined with the fact that Mix Tapes weren’t cool unless all songs went unlabeled, it took a couple of years to discover the band’s name. Then another ten years to get my hands on honest-to-God recorded material. Followed by another twenty plus years of preaching their merits to anyone that would listen.
But enough about me. We’re here to talk about Come On.
“Who are these guys? There were five of them, including a female guitarist–neatniks all, favoring white shirts, black pants, and short hair. Half of this belated testament was recorded CBGB 1978, a final track Hurrah 1980. But I’d never heard of them, and when I checked with New York Rocker‘s Andy Schwartz, he remembered only the name. On the evidence of these 16 homages to first-growth Talking Heads, from long before it was determined that the world moved on a woman’s hips, we were missing something: the halting yet propulsive, arty yet catchy ejaculations of the uptight nerd as subversive geek. A five-year-old sex fiend joins suburban tennis players exposing their underthings join two straight songs about kitchens join the incendiary “Old People”: “Get out in the streets/Turn over cars/Elbow young people/Set garbage on fire.” Not important, obviously. Funny, though. B+”
Originating from New York City during the Patti Smith v. Lou Reed heroin wars of the mid 1970s, Come On were an art-based punk band in the purest sense; three of the five band members had limited musical experience prior to forming in the third quarter of 1976 – and in their four years of existence, they released two official 7″ recordings:
Don’t Walk on the Kitchen Floor b/w Kitchen in the Clouds, 1978 – Come On Music, 85XX / 85XY
Housewives Play Tennis b/w Howard After Six, 1980 – Aura Records, AUS 120A / 120B
While that output suggests otherwise, their recording history is a bit more erratically prolific:
Studio/Demo:(unknown) Leave it to Beaver — (Lee Stafford Sound, 8 track) See Me, Come On, She’s Latent, Kitchen in the Clouds — (Right Track Studios, 24 track) Mona Lisa, Don’t Walk on the Kitchen Floor — (unknown: Ron Johnsen demo recordings) Disneyland, Old People, Howard After Six, See Me, Housewives Play Tennis — (Electric Lady Studios, 24 track) I’m Five, Bad Luck with Parents, Pills and Money, Salt and Pepper
Live:(CBGBs) I’m Five, My Neighbor Makes Noise, Businessmen in Space, Pills and Money, Bad Luck with Parents, Physical Ed, Mom and Dad, Salt and Pepper, Nervous Love* — (Hurrah) Disneyland, Come On*, The House*, My Neighbor Makes Noise*, Do the Welfare* — (Max’s) Bad Luck with Parents*, She’s Latent*, See Me/Come On*, Deoxyribonucleic* — (unknown) Love is a Western*, Get Out of Bed*
* = Unreleased
A chunk of these recordings would later be collected on two Heliocentric releases – the ‘Come On: New York City, 1976-80‘ full length** (1999) and the ‘Disneyland +‘ EP (2002); both highly recommended to those fans of the band during the 1980s that only had ‘that Kitchen single’ to go by. Yet also hard to come by.
In 2017, someone released a remastered compilation** of most of the prior material that sounds incredible. Available on Bandcamp in digital and CD forms.
** = The compilation is quite the marvel. Demo cuts on the album came courtesy of a 20 year old cassette copy of the master tapes – and the CBGBs material came from a fan’s handheld recorder smuggled into the club. That this material made light of day is impressive enough.
“Since ‘NYC 1976-80’ came out, other Come On material came to light: an EP of which was released (Disneyland +), and I hope someday some noted label might offer to bring all available material together on a super-definitive Come On collection.”
