Although when I was in Boston the week before last for the fluffilectable Fluff Festival, all I did was participate in all things Fluff, I did manage to get in an hour of sightseeing, at least the only kind of sightseeing I’m interested in, which is looking for the best and most kitschtastic signs and edifices a city has to offer. I nearly lost my choppers when I came across the Hilltop Steakhouse on Route 1 outside of Boston. This place was so astounding –  from this greatest sign I’ve ever seen, at least 40 feet high and I can’t even imagine what it looks like it night, to the herd of plastic cows grazing outside – that I’m going to give it its own post. I’m shooting for tomorrow but with all the work I still have to get done for my grand performance on the 18th, only time will tell  when I’ll actually get that done. But trust me, it’s coming.

Of course, whenever a name has “hilltop” in it and it’s not on a hill, not to mention that it’s sitting on the side of a flat freeway, it’s astounding kitsch time.

I don’t care where it’s located, any pizza place with a leaning tower is where I’m going to munch Italian. That it’s next door to Giggles makes it even better.

I love when plaster flags that are constructed in “blow” motion.

I also love vintage stacked signs like this:

“Cocktail Lounge” and a working clock make it even better. That John Sebastion is performing at a Chinese restaurant, even better. But best of all is the massive hunk of the Kowloon itself:

Giant tiki = giant kitsch. If I ever Fluff it up again, I’m going to see if the portions inside loom as large.

You can’t really appreciate this next sign, especially blocked by that pole. But 15 feet of sake can’t be bad.

I love, love, love the Dairy Castle, miniature golf and baseball compound sign, all structures and features of which it beckons you to seemingly untouched since the 1960’s:

This angle is great:

You can spot a rocket ship, dinosaur and this happy Humpty facing the highway from the golf course:

Other than vegetarians, who doesn’t like hot dog signs, especially when an attempt is made at mustard and toppings, and it’s been boiling since 1958?

The Karl’s building is pretty great too, almost as if they couldn’t decide on the exact style of architecture they were going for so they went for everything.  Though 1950’s and 60’s are most predominant in the house.

And last but not least, Ferns, where you’re lucky if you can get the “new room” – only one? – and a Whir Poo. Though I don’t think I want to participate in anything Poo happening in a motel.

I must admit that contrary to my normal habits, I didn’t do much consumption of food at the Fluff Festival this past weekend in Somerville, MA.  I was too busy sweating like a little piglet, as I’m sure you can see from the back of my hat hair.

But food concocted with Fluff was there aplenty:

I especially liked this Fluff injected chess set:

I never learned how to play Chess so the accuracy or lack of it is of no consequence to me.

There were at least twenty Fluff-filled foods submitted. I meant to get an overall shot of the table so all the food was represented here but my brain was too sweat-filled to think. The only thing I really tasted was the Fluffy chicken, mainly because if there was a recipe that combined Fluff with chicken I wanted it. I must say it was very tasty and delivered quite a kick.

Of course, Fluffernutter’s were definitely well represented:

Fluff filled trophies were given to the winners.

aKitschionado Rusty Blazenhoff documented me sampling them:

Unfortunately, I can’t tell you who won as I was too busy mopping myself off in the darkness of the tiny VIP room, which was thankfully air-conditioned and had a watercooler. My hat was slathered with about twenty coats of Liquitex acrylic and it was like having your head topped off with a sauna.

I also did a lot of sitting around outside trying to drip dry while Booty Vortex played.

I have to say that funk cover bands usually drive me nuts but these guys were the joint.

I conducted them playing many a rendition of “September”, the official Fluff song this year.

Oops, am at Logan airport and they just called my flight for boarding. More Fluffiness tomorrow…

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My time to pay as much attention to my Kitsch O’ The Day blog as I am want to do has dwindled lately because I’ve done what I never thought I would have the guts to do: give live performing a try again after marching off stage in the middle of a song in 1974 and proceed to walk right out of the building, never to return again. Or so I thought… On October 18 I’m going to give the whole thing a go again. As such, I was most ecstatic to stumble on this in the Los Angeles Times, especially as I haven’t really even publicized the show yet, which means they stumbled on it on their own.

If you’re going to be in LA on October 18, come to the El Portal Theater. Leave plenty of room in the aisles as you never know who’s going to be jumping off of the stage. Although I hope that almost 40 years has matured me somewhat and that all my years as a party thrower pay off in this, my about-to-be-most-recent incarnation.

In 1974, Allee Willis walked off stage in the middle of her own show. Now she’s finally coming back! The Grammy, Emmy, Tony and Webby award-winning and nominated songwriter, artist, singer, technologist, collector, and party thrower comes to the El Portal Theater in beautiful North Hollywood for one night only of songs, stories, and party games. Sing-along to Willis’ greatest hits like “September”, “Boogie Wonderland”, “Neutron Dance”, “What Have I Done To Deserve This” and “I’ll Be There For You (theme from Friends)”! Win valuable prizes! Watch her as she attempts to get through the evening without walking off stage for another 37 years!

Show starts at 8:00PM, Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Doors open at 7:00PM with kitschy food + drinks, beer and wine available

TICKETS
So reasonable it’s crazy!
$24.99 and $34.99
(tickets are limited and they’re going fast…)
http://www.elportaltheatre.com/events.html
https://web.ovationtix.com/trs/pe/9248165
or call 1-866-811-4111

El Portal Theatre
5269 Lankershim Blvd.
North Hollywood, CA 91601

“Ms. Willis…considers party-giving an art form” – New York Times

“Allee Willis’ parties are the campiest hot tickets in town” – People Magazine

“..A rare look inside the process of one of the most prolific and tenacious interactive media artists working today.” – salon.com

“Willis is the spokeswoman for this grand dance of junque nouvelle and vérité… as if Ozzie Nelson had acquired a sick and sudden taste for Surrealist poets. Her own interest in kitsch typifies the dichotomy that makes her interesting…The silliness, un-self consciousness, sense of whimsy and innocence are reflected in the absurd designs and bright colors (that surround her). Even the themes lack pretension… Hopeful images of a powerful America and its future.” – LA Weekly

“…A singular vision by an artist, who if not limited by building codes, would be the Simon Rodia of the 21st century.” – Chris Nichols, Los Angeles Magazine

Heading out of LA last Thursday on the 5 was a mess.  An overturned 20-wheeler heading south spilled oranges, lemons and an entire tank of fuel, cloggin up both sides of the freeway like cholestrol in arteries. My travel mate, Snappy P, and I almost had an anuerism baking in the 106 degree sun at a standstill on the fuel-with-lemon-zested highway. So we cut over on 126 to the 101, which added a couple hours onto the trip but also took us past one of the most blessed sights in California, The Madonna Inn, in San Luis Obispo.

If you haven’t been there, the Madonna is a wonderland of kitsch with a kapitol K, with over 100 themed-to-the-nines-and-then-some rooms and a dining area that would bring Liberace to his knees.  I’ve blogged about this place before, but were I to write a book on it there still wouldn’t be enough room to shower enough praise on this architectural and decorating masterpiece. So please enjoy this tip-of-the-kitschberg look around and, without question, if you’re ever on the 101, The Madonna Inn is mere miles from Hearst Castle and, if you’re reading THIS blog, it’s where your tour really should take place.

It’s easy to spot the 20 foot high sign from the freeway:

We didn’t pull in until after 10 PM so unfortunately it was too dark to adequately photograph the exterior. But you can certainly see from this that a little something special is going on:

Just to the left of that fountain is the entrance to the dining rooms:

Go through those doors and you walk into this:

My eyes are  always too busy attempting to take in everything in the main dining room, The Gold Rush Steak House, to focus much on the food, which happens to be excellent.  Take a look around while I munch on something now.

Here’s the reservation desk:

There’s even a dance floor and live band:

And LOTS of mirrors:

And an excellent selection of 50’s chairs if you just want to sit and drink.

If the sugar is this color at The Madonna Inn you can only imagine what the drinks look like:

If you decide you want to do a little clothes shopping during your meal you can hit the stairs to hit the racks:

Despite being loaded down with about ten pounds of prime rib, it’s worth making the climb because of clothing like this:

Let’s take a closer look at that bedazzling:

I would, however, suggest taking the stairs across the room:

They feature these banisters…

…that pass by this door…

… and these portraits of the owners that are nested on either side of the most astounding grape light in history:

Those portraits are a good five feet high so imagine the grandeur of that giant barrel that the resin grapes are tumbling out of as the cherub blesses the wine on the other side of the rock wall. I would say it couldn’t get any better except that at the bottom of the stairs is a penny crushing machine:

Of course, you could have always chosen this stairway:

But then it wouldn’t have led to this bathroom…:

…with this ceiling…

…and these stall doors…:

…and this pink marble and (unfortunately not flocked) gold and pink wallpaper.:

It’s always nice when the bathroom is conveniently located next to the wine cellar:

God knows, there’s miles more to see at The Madonna Inn, like the coffee shop next door to The Gold Rush:

But I’ve got to save something for next time. For as many years as I’ve stopped here to eat and relieve myself, I’ve never stayed overnight.  Which means that I’ve never actually stepped into in any of the rooms. From what I’ve heard and googled, these make the dining area look like the kitsch minor leagues. One day this will happen, especially as I’m thinking of having my birthday party there this year. And when it does, I’ll probably be celebrating in The Caveman:

Or maybe the Old Mill…

Or maybe the Vous:


E vous?

No new aKitschionado posts until tomorrow as I have to leave early this morning to go to Milly Del Rubio’s funeral where, as I did for both of her sisters, Elena and Eadie, I’ll be delivering the eulogy. Normally this would be a very upsetting task, but as all three of the Del Rubio Triplets were fond of saying, they were “three people with one head” and never could live with the thought of the group not being together. I’m at peace that they’re finally reunited, as Eadie passed in 1996 and Eleana joined her in 2001.

I thought about dropping ‘Allee Willis’ Kitsch O’ The Day’ from the title of my post today but if ever I were to worship at the throne of Kitsch it would be at the base of three magnificent thrones with gold nameplates that say “Del Rubio”.

I should also mention that Holy Cross Cemetery, where the triplets are buried next to each other by the time you read this, is right across the street from the Fox Hills Mall, where I got this:

I constantly get complements on how gorgeous this microphone pendant is. No doubt the complement flingers think it’s real diamonds but all that bling only cost $39.99. Not that I need a funeral as an excuse to go to the Fox Hills Mall, but if anyone would appreciate fantastic music-themed jewelry like this it would be the Del Rubio Triplets.

Milly, I know how long you’ve wanted to go and be with your sisters so I’m not sad to lose you now.

I trust that the three of you are already assembled in front of glowing diamond microphones, singing the out-of-this-world harmonies you sang even here on earth, and standing in the order you were born in, stood on stage in and did everything in life in; Eadie on the left, Elena in the middle and Milly now joining on the right.

Peace out.

Alex Steinweiss passed away last Sunday. Even if you don’t know his name there’s no way you don’t know his work. Steinweiss literally invented the album cover. Before the 1930’s, records came in brown paper sleeves. At 23, he was hired by Columbia Records and suggested that the music be accompanied by poster art. Thus began the singlemost prolific and influential record jacket design career the world has ever known. Not only did Steinweiss give life to the record industry but he made the burgeoning Atomic Age visible to the public, creating the first wave of freeform design that designers still ride today.

Everything Steinweiss did burst with color. You could hear the music without listening to it just by looking at one of his covers. He was as great at what he did as it gets. His style is still imitated, though I’ve never seen anyone nail it like Steinweiss, who makes even the most successful designer of modern graphics look like a copycat.

And those aren’t even his most famous covers. But it gives you an idea of the rhythmic and lyrical style that still influences modern design today. This was the first time this stuff was being done. Just look at the Google image search page for an overview crash course.

I was lucky enough to have a piece of art in an album cover show at the Robert Berman Gallery in LA a few years ago that featured hundreds of Steinweiss’ LPs. It was a tribute show to him with a wide variety of artists designing their own album covers.
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One of my favorite Steinweiss covers was Porgy and Bess. When I was (co)writing The Color purple musical, I listened to that soundtrack a lot. MP3s of course but that record cover was still in my head as I saw it so much as a kid. I hadn’t been a musical theater aficionado before I got the Color Purple gig. To bone up, I started listening to every theater soundtrack I could get my hands on, especially studying Black musicals. Hearing Porgy and Bess again was what put the genre over the top for me and made me excited about writing a musical myself.
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Here’s Steinweiss’ cover:
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And here’s my Color Purple-tinged take on Steinweiss for the gallery show:
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My piece not only interpreted my musical but commented on the fact that both Porgy and Purple were two of the very, very few all Black musicals on Broadway ever, and that one of those was (co)written by me. That’s a lot to stuff into a piece which was at times torturous to design. I could feel the incredible artistic journey I took making it once I stood back and saw it hanging on the wall. Especially with hundreds of actual Steinweisses, not to mention the man himself, only feet away.
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I got to meet Steinweiss too, which was a THRILL. I know we took photos together but I can’t find them for the life of me. So I’ll settle for being thankful for the life of Alex Steinweiss. His artistic influence on me was MASSIVE. Without him, all there was was the record. With Steinweiss, came story and concept and full expression of the artist and art form, without which I would die. R.I. P. Mr. Steinweiss.
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Bleary eyed from chasing a friend’s cat through the hills above the Hollywood Bowl all night last night – finally captured I’m happy to say! – I had to get up bone-breakingly early this morning to pick up a keyboard in Hollywood. My eyes were still practically glued shut but there’s so much kitsch along the roadways in this city, I can always deal with a situation as long as I remember to bring my camera. In addition to the above mural painted underneath the 101 on Argyle, here are but a few of the gems that crossed my car and eyeballs as I made my tired trek this morning.

There’s nothing better to me than when someone takes a plain building and slaps some cement art up on it.

Well, maybe this is a little better… taking a plain box of a house and attempting to make it look like the Parthenon with the MGM lions greeting you at the door:

I wonder if that person knows that plants can actually be planted in the ground? The only thing missing is a blue tree…

…and maybe this hedge as an entrance:

Thank God this bus wasn’t parked in front or passersby wouldn’t be able to see any of the architectural or fauna beauty:

Despite so many insanely wonderful vintage structures falling victim to the wrecking ball, Hollywood still has some incredible period architecture like this church hugging the entrance to the 101 On Hollywood Blvd.:

You can’t really tell how gorgeous this is from a distance but in addition to those incredible fins and peculiar arrangement of windows, the entire building is made up of 1 inch lavender mosaic tiles. Unfortunately, that wall was slapped up a few years ago depriving drivers of the building’s full beauty. Luckily, the full finned magnificence of the Peterson Automotive Museum on Wilshire and Fairfax is not hidden by a stupid wall.

I know that this is a hideous photo but I  took a short cut through a muddy construction site and barely had time to fumble for my camera as I passed this window:

Perhaps a close-up will reveal more of its beauty:

I swung by one of my favorite papusa places hoping to grab a little breakfast before I sped home to throw myself back in bed but it was closed. The mural still woke me up.

I hope everyone reading this has as jam-packed full and colorful a Sunday as this overly-enthusiastic balloon/cotton candy/inflatable toy man walking around Echo Park Lake this morning. Open your eyes. Beauty is all around you!

Mere days after my first and only album, Childstar, was released on Epic Records in 1974, I walked on stage in front of 10,000 people to open in Boston for folksinger David Bromberg.

The only other time I had been on stage before was when I played a little fur tree in a school play when I was 8. Now here I was singing soul music, the first 10 songs I ever wrote, plus a Mary Wells medley and Brenton Woods’s “Oogum Boogum”. My band, the singers of whom would go on to become Chic, were dressed as sequined vegetables and I was in a satin suit that I’d autographed from head to toe. This is a really crappy photo of part of the costumes on mannequins but it’s all I’ve got;

Me and The Angle Babies aren’t in costume here but you can get a pretty good idea that between us and our costumes we weren’t what the folksinging crowd came to see.

I didn’t have a very good time on stage. I never could remember my lyrics and I always spent more time designing the sets and costumes than I did rehearsing or getting comfortable being on stage. After five performances on the East Coast we were booked into a lunchroom at Ohio State, the only way the college could also get Joni Mitchell to play in the main auditorium because we had the same agent. Our only audience were three people at a bridge table eating hot dogs and a psychology class being conducted in the back of the room, with the professor telling us to lower our volume after every song. I walked offstage after six songs and made the decision to just be a songwriter, where at least if I was being tortured it was in the comfort of my own room.

Through the years I’ve gotten much more comfortable performing – in my own unique way of doing so which doesn’t include singing live – mostly because I’m a big party thrower and walk around on mic the whole time.

Almost every conversation I have comes through the speakers and I’m literally directing and producing the party as I go. Throw in the thrift shop auctions and stupid party games that I lead the guests through and I’ve gotten very relaxed holding that cold metal thing in my hands.

But I still never have gotten it together to sing anywhere other than in the studio.

So the fact that in mere hours I will be up on the stage for the first time in almost four decades and I’m not sitting here throwing up is a MASSIVE ACHIEVEMENT! Me and five other well oiled songwriters will be singing our greatest hits and talking about how they were written. It’s just with a keyboard – Chris Price, who I’ve been writing and recording a song with and shooting a video all on iPhones, is accompanying me –  but I’m singing and remembering lyrics and lines nonetheless.

And if I can get through the evening not thinking about soul singers dressed as vegetables, psychology professors and hot dogs I will have made a big breakthrough.

I’ll be performing “September“, “Boogie Wonderland”, “Neutron Dance”, and “I’ll Be There for You (theme from Friends)“. At least radio has regaled me with these songs thousands of times over the years so I’m hoping that for once I can remember my own lyrics and be happy I’m up on stage.

Wish me luck!

Nice, big, fat story in the Times on me today + 12 photos. Thank you, Bob Morris, for seeking me out (no press agent involved here!) and writing such a heartfelt, spirited, and happily long piece. My house thanks you too (at least the part of it that made the photo)!