MadameBastet-Firing-Neurons

Lemon Drop Dreams, A Full Moon and Zwack Unicum

Having troubles with the bloggy lately, don't know what's up
with that shite. Took my mom out to dinner for her birthday
tonight at Citizen Smith - one of the hip, faboo new restaurants
in Hollywould. It's off H-Blvd. on Cahuenga and it's so popular
that if you're more than 15 minutes late they'll give your table
away and there's a 2 hour limit on your table. Normally I don't
like that kind of bullshit, but I've been there before and the food
is spectacularly good, and the place looks like Dracula's bedroom.
Very dark, candles all over the place, all over the walls, Gothic
ambience, cool chandeliers....they even have this bad-ass looking
sliding door that leads to the outside patio - my mom even called
it Dracula's door. Let's just say a vampire would do well to stop
in and have one of their delightful Lemon Drop martinis. Hell, we
had everything and now I'm so full I feel weird! I don't normally
eat that much. Special occasion and all. My mum, who is turning
67, is ultra-hip and cool. She looks 10 - 12 years younger than she
is, she's gorgeous and she didn't even mind the blaring music
that much. I was like a rambling DJ, announcing every song.
They surprised me by playing a really odd array of music.
But what really blew my socks off wasthat they played The Cult.
Oh mother of God. That just set me off. And what's even better
is even my mom said, "Isn't that kind of old?"

God love her. She remembers my obsession. And I mean OBSESSION.
If people think I'm obsessed with the Church, well they're right.
But I also became utterly and totally and obsessively fascinated with
Ian Astbury and the Cult not too long after I discovered The Church.

I will NEVER forget it. I was home from college - and I had a really
nasty cold. I wasn't feeling well and I was walking around the house
sniffling and sneezing. I walked into the den of my parents' house
and my brother was sitting there watching MTV. Remember when
MTV wasn't some ho-hideous pimped out crackwhore nightmare
and actually played MUSIC and VIDEOS? Well, I walked in and
the video for She Sells Sanctuary was on.

Christ on the Cross in Golgotha, that was IT. I mean, I don't THINK
I fell to my knees, but everything in my 18 year old brain stopped cold.
I took one look at Ian Astbury, so young, so cool looking, so beautiful,
all decked out in scarves and shit, and I was GONE. Gone, gone, gone.
I listened to the song and thought I'd never heard anything so fucking
amazing in my life. I was taken to a whole other place in life. I absolutely
credit The Cult with getting me even MORE obsessed with music, and
determined to work in the music industry (what music and the music
industry have to do with each other is very little actually,
but at 18, I didn't know this).

Oh sweet Mary, mother of God, I had it bad. I went back to school,
determined to find this album, and find out who this man was.
Now you have to realise, I was in my first semester at a really
conservative Christian university and while I was practically an
atheist because of that, haha, I still dressed very much like a sweet
little good girl going to a nice, Christian school. I remember going to
the record store (yeah, remember those too?) and buying the Cult's
LOVE cassette (!) and the guy behind the counter kind of looked
at me a bit oddly. I had on a long skirt, some cutesy sweater and pearls.
I got back to my dorm and listened to the cassette and my whole entire
life changed; I'm not exaggerating. Oh Billy Duffy, wheverever
you are now, you sweet guitar god, I still love your licks baby. I became
beyond fascinated with Ian. There was a small picture of him in
Vogue magazine (of all places) and I remember I cut it out and kept
it for years. In fact, I started cutting out every article, interview, picture
I could find of the band, and especially of Ian. Today, 21 years later,
I think back, I look inside myself and I wonder, what was it? What
fascinated me about him so much? It wasn't even sexual. I'd tell you
if it was sexual. Believe me, there have been a lot of musicians I just
wanted to wham bam thank you ma'am. But not Ian. Did I want to BE
Ian? Perhaps. Even though I was a woman! I loved everything
about him. I loved the way he dressed. I loved his fascination with Native
American cultures. I loved his voice. I loved his words. I thought he was
beautiful the way you might think a painting or a statue is beautiful;
you don't want to sleep with it, but you feel like you can't take your eyes
away from the beauty of it. His long black hair was amazing; his eyes
dark and penetrating. He was intense. He had an amazing presence on
stage. He was wild. He was everything I wasn't, that's for sure. I felt
like I'd stumbled onto Mount Olympus and fell in love with a God.
Ian wasn't even HUMAN to me. I elevated him to a place so high in
the stratosphere it's scary now to think about it. Hey, I did that a lot
with musicians when I was a teenager and in my early 20's.

I started collecting all the records I could (actual RECORDS people!)
Southern Death Cult, Death Cult, anything Ian had done before The
Cult. I even had a video of them. God where is that video now???
Gone. Damn. All of this stuff is gone. Don't you hate when you
want to go back and revisit shit and it's ALL GONE!

On April 19, 1986 I went down to San Diego State University and
stayed with my friend Jeanne, who was a student there. The
Cult was going to play at the SDSU amphitheatre. By this time I'd
managed to lose my pearls and started dressing in black, turning
into some strange hybrid Gothic-university chick. The opening band was
The Divinals (sp?). That chick was wild. Whatever happened to them?
I remember thinking though, I hate her! She gets to tour with The
Cult! Oh I thought touring was so fucking glamourous. Yeah yeah
yeah. I know all about it know. But come on, I wasn't even 19 yet.
That concert re-arranged every neuron and dendrite in my brain.
I stood there in total and complete rapture. I was mesmerised. It's
funny they were called The Cult; it was like I had joined one. The
music made me feel things I'd never felt before and I couldn't describe
it then, and I'm frustrated as hell now, because I still feel like I can't
properly describe it, two decades later. I felt free listening to it. I felt
freed from being the good little college girl. And I was such a good girl.
I felt free, I felt wild, I felt like I wanted to do things I'd never done
before. I felt like I owned the whole free fucking world. The universe
was mine. The stars supernova-ed and rained down their fire on me.
Duffy played the guitar so madly and it made me feel things inside and outside
and everywhere and I stood there in the dark, cigarette and clove smoke
wafting all around me, the smell of spilled beer and I remember it like
it was YESTERDAY. I wanted to die, to become totally one with the music.
I wanted to be those guitar strings, I wanted to merge into the very sound
itself. It was primal for me. I wanted to fuck, I wanted to drink, drug,
leave myself, my body. I felt like my whole consciousness was being
transformed song by song. I watched Ian like he was the last man on
earth. I wanted to become him, become his voice, I wanted our atoms
and molecules to merge; I wanted a symbiotic mind-fuck with it all.
The music had power over me like nothing else in my life ever had.

I must have listened to the LOVE album more than any other album
I've ever owned. The only other album that comes close is The Church's
Heyday album and the two albums could not be more different. Every
song, every lyric, every guitar lick, every beat of the bass and drum was
burned into my psyche. How times change. I can't even find it in my
apartment now. It must be in storage with a ton of my other CD's.
I lived and breathed that album. It was the soundtrack to an entire
period of my life. The period where music became the penultimate
obsession of my young life. My friend Heather and I became equally
obsessed. We both started hanging out at Hollywood clubs to watch
bands. One of the first things we did that involved a lot of music was
go to the L.A. street fair. This was back in '85 or '86 when they actually
had a street fair. All kinds of bands played. We saw punk bands - Agent
Orange and even the Ramones. We climbed on top of a Ryder truck
and a riot broke out right after we left and two people were stabbed.
They never had another L.A. street fair after that. Living out in Malibu
in the 80's wasn't terribly glamourous. There was essentially nothing to
do, unless you went to a beach party, or to someone's house, or hung
out at Carlos N' Pepe's, THE local Mexican restaurant where all the
students and Malibu celebs hung out. But we were too young to drink,
too naive to get fake I.D.'s and besides it wasn't about the liquor. It
was truly about the music. We started going out every weekend, then
on weeknights as well. We started hanging out at the Roxy, the Whiskey.
Local bands became more and more interesting to us. We stayed far
away from places like Gazzarri's and hair-metal bands (although sadly
I got to know Warrant much better than I ever wanted to - but that's
another story.) We hung out at the sleaziest club in town - the Cathouse.
God what a whorehouse! We saw Faster Pussycat, L.A. Guns, Guns N'Roses
(they weren't huge yet), Jane's Addiction, Electric Angels, Kill for Thrills
(Gilby Clarke and Jason Nesmith were in this band - this was our
favourite local band. And yes, Nesmith as in the Monkees! That's his
father - Michael Nesmith). Damn I thought Jason was the sex! Ha. By
this time we'd morphed into mini-skirt wearing rocker chicks. I am not
gonna lie, I had a fucking awesome body back then. I miss that body
so much. I wore thigh high black suede boots and bustiere-type tops.
I have no idea if I spelled that word correctly; but I remember the outfits.
I can't believe I ever wore any of that stuff. I'd be mortified today. But then
again, I'm not 120 pounds anymore with legs that went on forever.
Good God. We scoured Melrose for clothes and then came back to school
and morphed back into good little girls. But the weekends were really ours.

We lived at the coolest fucking club ever, Scream at the Park Plaza Hotel
in downtown L.A. Here's a funny story. Every band played Scream. Jane's
Addiction was the house band; I remember seeing so many bands -
Faith No More, Soundgarden, L.A. Guns, Social Distortion - you name it,
any band promoter Dayle Gloria liked played there. She could talk
Jesus Christ himself into headlining that place. One day, for reasons
I honestly cannot remember now, I remember Heather and I were
driving around, and we drove by Scream. I know it was the weekend
and I want to say it was a Sunday. We saw all these people mingling
outside of the club. We pulled over and asked what was going on.
What was going on? Why would people hang out in front
of the Park Plaza on a Sunday afternoon? Well, the news blew my mind.
The Cult were going to play there that night. A special, secret show. We'd
just seen The Cult at the Long Beach Arena (Guns N'Roses opened for them)
and we couldn't believe our luck. Now I was wearing a skirt for some reason.
But Heather was in shorts and tennis shoes. And Scream had a dress code.
They wouldn't let her in the way she was dressed. So we freaked out and started
walking up and down Wilshire Boulevard trying to find something for her to
wear before the show.

I remember it must've been a Sunday because nothing was open. It
wasn't like there was a special dress shop open where Heather could buy
club clothes either. It was getting late. We went into some kind of shoe
store - like a Footlocker or something. I swear to God, Heather bought
BLACK soccer cleats. Then we went across the street to some hotel, and
went in their gift shop. While I bought cigarettes, Heather looked for
something to wear - and the only thing she could find was a black T-shirt.
Well, she already had a black shirt on. So what did she do? She wore the
T-shirt as a skirt. I kid you not. Black soccer cleats and a hotel T-shirt
as a skirt. But it did the damned job! And we got into the club and went into
the main ballroom and got really close and watched The Cult play a fucking
awesome show.

A few weeks later, we were at The Palace; we'd just gone to a movie premiere
and this is where we met Steve Jones, formerly of the Sex Pistols. For some
reason rockers were everywhere at this movie-premiere after-party. We saw
Billy Duffy talking to Steve Jones and Heather just went right up to Billy and
we all started talking after that. Billy had two drinks in his hand. Ian wasn't
there. I gotta say, Billy was really nice and so was Steve Jones. I couldn't
believe I was shaking hands with a SEX PISTOL! I used to do a radio show
at our radio station at the college, and so did my friend David; in fact we ended
up doing one together called "From L.A. to London" and damn if we didn't play
the shit! LOL! Seriously we played some awesome music. So David had Heather
and I on his show to tell our story of meeting Billy and Steve. I still have the tape;
often we'd tape our shows for our bosses to listen to, or just to listen to ourselves.
I don't even know if the tape works. I'm afraid to play it to be honest. I haven't
talked to Heather in 13 years. I don't know what I'm afraid of. I feel like I might
crack in half if I listen to it. Or maybe I'll have no emotion at all and somehow
that might be even worse.

Heather and I used to see Ian all over the place but I never spoke to him.
I gotta say, after The Cult's second album came out, I was really disappointed.
Fuck that Rick Rubin! He ruined the Cult! Electric whatever my ass. They all
got obsessed with this weird arena-rock Led Zeppelin vibe and it did NOT work.
They shoud've stuck with the LOVE sound. I remember once seeing Ian on Melrose
with his then-girlfriend Renee. They were like royalty. And once he was standing
behind me at Scream while we were watching Soundgarden play. Once Heather
and I went to a club in Long Beach called Bogart's. In February of 1990 I saw
Marty Willson-Piper do a solo show there and to this day that had to be the best show of
my life. Steve Kilbey appeared from out of nowhere and ended up playing
with Marty. This was when MWP was really fucking beautiful. Not that he
doesn't have some of the charm and beauty still going on; but he was the
absolute sharpest dresser in the 80's and this was early 1990. He was in
his early 30's; he regaled us with witty remarks, stories, spoke in different
languages and I was smitten. But I digress. Back to The Cult and Ian.

In the late 80's Heather and I went to Bogart's to see a ridiculous band
called The Fuzztones play. Rudy Prodtrudi was the singer. Oh God, Rudy.
He had this crazy Prince Valiant haircut. What a kick. We were sitting in
the lobby area, killing time, and the club had pinball machines and who
was playing one? Ian Astbury. I just sat and stared. I also remember that
night I stole enough Fuzztones flyers and I pasted these flyers all over
the entire top portion of my bedroom walls. What stupidity! Can you imagine
having the desire or energy to do that? Ah youth. I had a great poster
of The Cult in my dorm room for a couple of years at Pepperdine too.
The first year I was at Pepperdine I had a roommate who was a serious hardcore
Christian. She really thought I was going to Hell for listening to The Cult. Once
she took down all my Cult pictures. I was furious, needless to say. I still
hate religious fanatics to this day. Always have, always will. If music is Hell,
let me burn baby.

I saw The Cult so many times, in so many different venues. Often my
brother went with me; Steven and I shared two bands with equal passion
then - The Church and The Cult. We still share passion for The Church.
I don't know what happened to The Cult. Every album after LOVE seemed
to suck more and more. Sonic Temple? Ick. Were they one-album wonders?
I guess for me they were. I guess in the early 1990's I lost track of them.
I'd hear about Ian doing something but I'd totally lost interest. It was hard to believe,
considering I practically built an altar to the man. All my albums are gone,
all the pictures, and interviews. I have to credit The Cult however with
igniting my passion for music - igniting a fire that to this day has not gone
out, despite my working in the music industry and hating it and finding out
it was nothing like I thought it would be.

Today, if I hear She Sells Sanctuary, I stop and remember the girl
who was mesmerized by flickering images, stunning sounds and paralyzed
by a man she never knew, never even wanted to meet. I remember the
moment I walked into the room and my life changed forever. Hmm. I
wonder where Ian is now; I know he was touring with what's left of The
Doors, which just seemed wrong to me and of course, even he has a MySpace
site. Man, that seems even more wrong. Then again I wonder about a lot of
people and places and as long as I live, I don't think I will ever, ever
really get over the love affair I have with music. There is no band that
has a hold on me, except the Church, and even with them, I have grown
up enough to know they are human and my interactions with them have
been as equals; adult, and quite normal. The little girl who built her altars
to rock stars and papered her room with flyers is gone and I'm glad.
The music though, is still a drug that I'm never going tostop using. That's
an obsession I can live with til the end of all my days.

BTW, went to get my mom some ice wine for her birthday today at
this place called BevMo. They sell every type of liquor on God's green
earth. I collect those tiny liquor bottles and I was looking to get a new
one, and I found SK's fave liquor - that crazy Zwack Unicum! So I bought
all 7 tiny bottles because they didn't have any big bottles. Now, I'm just
wondering, can I take liquor on the plane to Chicago? I'm gonna!
Hey, I'm also getting fingerprinted for the 3rd time tomorrow. Yeah, the
Department of Justice must get tired of getting my badass fingerprints.
Maybe they might want to spend some time looking for those missing
Egyptian students - yeah the ones they've reassured us, are NOT
terrorists. Well how in the hell do they know that? Psychotic, murdering,
war-mongering morons - that's our government now.

On the way home from my mom's I finally listened to Rob Dickinson's
solo CD all the way through. I crack up every time I look at the cover
because the night after the Church show at the Henry Fonda, G and I went to Canter's
to get something to eat (thanks to the starvation merch diet). It was after
2am and I was so fucking tired I was punchy as hell. On the cover of the
CD Rob is shown throwing seahorses back into the ocean. But I was so
loopy I said to Gena, "Oh look, he's putting horsefish back in the ocean."
Horsefish. I thought that was so funny I almost peed. Guess you had to be
there.

Oh sweet Rob! I hope I can finally see and hear
you in Chicago. I missed your shows before! Damn, he is one talented
mofo! I mean, you can hear that in spades with The Catherine Wheel,
but this is a sweet CD. He's cute too. I'll take another hug please! Hee.
So that's the story morning glory. BTW, I didn't know Jeff Caine was in
Remy Zero. Why am I SO SLOW? It's better not knowing these things.
Then you don't act weird around people. I just thought he was some
little friend of SK's. That hottie.

Picture: Ian Astbury, God of my past. So beautfiul.