Needless to say this is a very special day for me, like an extra birthday a year, as it’s the opening line of my very first hit song – “Do you rememba the 21st night of Septemba?”- and my favorite of my hits to boot! So I hope everyone is having a very blessed and happy 21ST OF SEPTEMBER!!! And listening to the record a lot!
If anyone’s going to be in the Boston area this coming Saturday, head to Somerville where thousands of Fluffed-up folks will be honoring Fluff, the marshmallow food topping invented there, and where I’ll be judging the 70’s fashion show while people cremate my song, “September” by Earth, Wind & Fire, by changing the lyrics to reflect their love of Fluff.
I’ve been laboring on my outfit for the last 48 hours, the beginnings of which you can see above. I refuse to slop Fluff in my hair, as many of the participants do, so choose instead to ruin a few hats and shirts experimenting with Fluff-like effects so that I, the judge of the Pharaoh of Fluff fashion show and songwriting contests, look like I’m in the swing of the Flufftivities. I still have about 40 pounds of glue to go but that shirt will be covered like shag carpeting smothered a 70’s living room by the time I’m done.
More details on the Fluff festival here: http://unionsquaremain.org/fluff-festival/pharaoh-of-fluff/
It’s really completely nuts for me even to be leaving my desk let alone fly east to the Fluff Festival this coming week, an extravaganza honoring the creation of the marshmallow foodstuff created in Somerville, MA. where the annual festival takes place. But I have official duties there and made arrangements to attend long ago, before I decided to jump off the cliff and perform live in a few weeks for the 1st time since jumping off my own stage in the middle of a song 37 years ago.
I was going to the Fluff Festival not just for the foodstuff but for the kitsch of the event itself. Those who choose to honor Fluff attend the festival in theme attire, dine only on those substances made with Fluff, sing songs about Fluff, etc. I didn’t expect to be in full Fluff kitsch mode until I arrived there next week but, lo and behold, I just saw this:
Evidently, as I’m chained to my desk in LA, I’m supposed to be judging a fashion show in Cambridge in about 6 hours. Obviously that’s not happening. Obviously it was never supposed to happen. Obviously it’s a very kitschy moment when one is booked at an event they had no idea they were supposed to be at, and it’s happening thousands of miles away in only a few hours.
I will be there in excellent fashion NEXT Friday. Until then, thank you for the pre- Fluff Fest flubb. These kinds of occurrences only whet my appetite for even larger doses of kitsch upon landing.
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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.
One of my favorite things about living in a climate where it’s warm enough for people to keep their front lawns going all year round is the crazy things they stick on top of them. I’m a strong believer in your house, your lawn, your car, your clothes, your hair, your anything being a canvas for self-expression. I’m fascinated enough when people dress up concrete penguins or make picnic areas for plaster frogs and the like. But sticking a giant Statue of Liberty on your front lawn is a statement that only some are bold enough to make. This is one of my favorite things about Beverly Hills.
In the New York harbor Lady Liberty welcomes all who pass her with “Give me your tired, your poor/ your huddled masses yearning to breathe free”. But west coast Lady Liberty only welcomes the masses huddled in their cars crawling over Coldwater Canyon, especially in rush hour when most of them are tired, poorer than they used to be, but can at least be thankful they’re not nose to nose on a freeway and are free to look at something this ridiculous on their long trek home.
Gay as in ye ol’ sense of the word: happy, frolicking through the streets of Paris with n’ary a concern in the world. I love this Little ashtray for much more than its gayness however. Above all, I relish the little paint mounds that stand above all the matte black surfaces.
It’s hard to really tell from the photo – and I took at least 20 of ’em trying to get the little white mounds of glaze to properly pop – but you can see the little nubs of the sweater and those puffed locks of yellow blond hair and get an idea of the dimension of the glaze. Shoulder pads were a big 1940’s fashion trend, which I’m sure influenced this 1950’s design, so it’s a shame the white won’t photograph right. Of course, it’s a bigger shame that I don’t know how to shoot with anything other than auto focus…. Maybe you can see the gay raised paint splotches better on her skirt:
I love when you can see the imperfections in the glaze. It adds to the handpainted feel. Which someone did, though I’ve tried to make out the name unsuccessfully for 25 years since I’ve owned this thing.
I love the sidewalk treatment:
So Atomically perfect in design, splotched right on the pavement from the artist’s palette. I love her shoes too, though doesn’t one foot look five sizes larger than the other?
The fringe on the dress is etched into the clay. I love this reverse effect.
Other Parisian essentials, an umbrella…
…and The Eiffle Tower:
But the big mysetery is why a French Poodle wasn’t thrown into the mix? That particular canine so often accompanied French designs in the 1950’s.
Missing poodle acknowledged, this gay Parisian ashtray is still one of my fave ash receptacles. May you all have a very gay day and remember to deposit your ashes in a stylish gay ashtray for optimum esthetic enjoyment.
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
Being a potato chip lover, I viewed Pringles as blasphemy when they first came out. It’s like thinking a baked potato is gonna satify someone who’s lusting for french fries. But when the airlines first started making you pay for food and came around with that wicker basket of hard cookies and crackers and cheese the size of a pat of butter, I took a leap and went for the stack of Pringles. Not that I still wouldn’t take a bag of original Lays first, but the Pringles definitely had my tatse buds saying hello.
The shape and symetry of Pringles really appeals to me. So when Windup Kitty gifted me this plastic Pringles carrying case I was a most happy chip muncher to say the least!
Other than you have to have the appetite of a flea to be satified with the mere ten chips that it holds.
I know there are two missing. They were begging to be sampled.
If you look close at the top of the case you can see the Pringles imprint:
The grey bottom is a little too institutional of a color palette for me. At least go for the same anemic yellow as the chip to suggest the contents within.
But that’s a small complaint for something that’s going to keep my Pringles chip free and fancy fresh!
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:
What are the odds of losing two of the most influential songwriters of all time on the same day? That’s what happened yesterday. First, Jerry Lieber, whose “Hound Dog” got the Elvis-not-to-mention-Rock-‘n-Roll train rolling, and then Nick Ashford, a songwriter whose influence on me was immeasurable. I never met Jerry, though I wrote a bunch of songs with his son, Oliver, in the early 90’s. But Nick I knew and loved. Not just as a songwriter who wrote my favorite song of all time but as one of nicest guys around. His eyes always sparkled, he was always smiling and soul oozed out of him as naturally as breath.
Along with his brilliant wife and collaborator, Valerie Simpson, Nick turned out the kind of songs that made my songwriting head spin. Can you say “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough”?! How does a song get any better than that?? In any of the zillions of versions of it that exist? And that’s just the tip of the hitberg.
When my musical, The Color Purple, opened on Broadway, Nick and Val were there. And when Chaka Kahn came in as Sofia a couple of years later they were there again. I don’t know where Valerie was for this shot with me, my Color Purple collaborator, Brenda Russell, and Patti LaBelle, the singer who first started regularly doing my songs back in the day, but that big smile was typical of how Nick always walked around.
Nick and Val also came to the Broadway opening of Hot Feet, the Earth Wind & Fire musical I had seven songs in. Here we are with Maurice White, founder and lead singer of EWF and who gave me the biggest break of my career with “September” and all that followed, and LaChanze, who won a Tony for playing Celie in The Color Purple.
Nick and Val were among the most supportive songwriters ever. I can’t even tell you how incredible it made me feel as a songwriter every time they told me how much they loved my music.
Which is amazing because the only time I ever got to work with them was on a really stinky song in a really stinky movie. In 1987, Scott Sanders, who later produced The Color Purple, managed Ashford & Simpson and asked me to write and produce a song for them. My collaborator, Danny Sembello‘s, mom got very sick right after we began and he had to bow out of the project. I was in way over my head without him. If you know bad movies and didn’t know I did the song that everyone dances to in the infamous McDonalds scene,“Down To Earth”, in the kitschingly horrendous Mac and Me, I know you’re plotzing now. And you certainly can’t imagine royalty like Ashford & Simpson gracing that mess either. So even more impressive that they remained so kind and supportive of me through the years. But I shouldn’t be talking about bad songs when honoring such an iconic being as Nick Ashford. Everyone should be as blessed to have such a joyous soul in their life.
Just a few weeks ago another iconic songwriter and friend passed, Jerry Ragovoy. Not only did he write such gems as “Piece Of My Heart” and “Time Is On My Side”, but he discovered an unknown songwriter named Allee Willis and produced her one and only album, Childstar, in 1974.
This hasn’t been a very happy month for songwriters. Though if I think about the jam going on upstairs it makes me smile. Besides, these are the kind of guys that live forever. R.I.P. Jerry Leiber, Nick Ashford and Jerry Ragovoy. If ever there were Rock ‘n Roll royalty this is it.
