mr-wah-wah

Mr. Wah Wah,  the prized work of Bubbles the artist, has become the symbol of the Sound Of Soul fundraiser I throw every year in conjunction with Pacifica Radio Archives. This year it’s tomorrow and I’m going nuts trying to get ready for 300 people storming my house to eat outrageous soul food from Mom’s Barbecue House, peruse my collection of Pop Soul artifacts that the Godfather himself, James Brown, encouraged me to  turn into a museum when he first saw it in the 1980s, and to celebrate the end  of the first national tour of The Color Purple.  (Second national tour begins in two weeks  with a brand-new production and cast.)

As anyone  knows who’s ever been to a party over here, I treat the whole place like it’s a big set and hand make signs, displays,  games, prizes, the works.   As if that’s not enough work, with all the rain that’s been dousing LA I need a Plan A party, the real deal, and a Plan B party,  the striped down version that happens if it rains and I’m forced to squeeze everyone inside, a physical impossibility that demands extraordinary hive-inducing, Valium-popping-if-I-were-the-type measures.  So I’m a  paint covered, music making busy little beaver today, half in a good mood and half having spilkes because I know powers greater than I are at work to collaborate on the evening.   But with all the hostess concerns that I have Mr. Wah Wah  is still looking good and ready to party!

aw-tcp-pantages_1261

Fantasia as Celie. Fantastic cast, many from the original Broadway production. Five years of my life into the making of this baby. I’m very proud of it. If you’re in LA come to the Pantages.

flamingos_3230

These three beauties are the real deal, the kind that used to bake in the sun in Florida in the 1950’s glory days of pink flamingos, not the hideous shocking pink plastic repros that proliferate in catalogs today. These gals are made of solid concrete and weigh a ton; even the baby is a 10 pounder.

The super baby pink is faded to perfection and the thin metal legs are rusted as if they’ve been wading in an Okeefenokee swamp for decades. These three flamingos stand as proud today as when they were hatched back in 1950.

flamingos_3234

hall-rental-cart2_0846

Nothing more elegant than an astroturf encrusted dolly hauling a rickety paper flower doused cart with a box of flyers tacked on like a realtor would nail on a for sale sign. Not to mention it’s parked in an industrial section deep in the San Fernando Valley of LA. With this said, it seems like a perfect place to check out for a Kitsch lovers’ Cotillion. I can only hope the catering services within carry items like grilled Velveeta sandwiches, PB & Js and desserts made with Twinkies. That actually is my kinda place.

hall-rental-cart_0846

car-2-sides

Today’s KOTD was supposed to be the launch of “Pigmy Will”, my new animated series on YouTube, but Facebook seems to be having stomach problems and I don’t want to risk a malfunction on the Pigmy’s big day. So instead, here’s a car I’ve always wanted to buy. Two front ends so you’re moving forward whichever way you go. 

This is a real functioning vehicle tooling around in the Culver City, CA area.

“Pigmy Will” coming tomorrow… as long as Facebook recovers all functionality and returns to normal health. In the meantime I’m going for a ride.

tiki-mug-bali-Hai_2932

Nothing better on a Sunday than to lay back sucking on Mai Tais, Fog Cutters, Shirley Temples or whatever else you want to fill this vintage Mr. Bali Hai Tiki mug with. Custom made for the Bali-Hi Restaurant in San Diego, CA. and patterned after the 6′ tall Mr. Bali Hai sculpture that greeted diners at the front door, these 6.5″ x 4.25″ mugs are the Big Kahuna of Tiki mugs, larger than most with a top of the head lid and holes for two straws for maximum Romantic imbibing.

Manufactured by Otagiri Mercantile Company, there are matching salt & pepper shakers as well as newer repro shot glasses.  All eight of my Mr. Bali Hais are full size and original.

tiki-mug-bali-Hai_2919 tiki-mug-bali-Hai_2927

michael-jackson-game_9191

I only met Michael Jackson once. It was 1980 and I was at Hollywood Sound recording with Earth Wind & Fire and he was working in the room next door. This was before Billy Jean shot him into the stratosphere but Michael Jackson was still a music God. He walked over to me but as he gave me a big grin and very gentle almost-handshake someone burst into the studio and said Richard Pryor had set himself on fire. Everyone just froze and I quietly slipped out of the room. Those old school recording studios are as soundproof as tombs but I could hear all the commotion in the lobby as he ran out.

Though many of my friends co-wrote many of his classic songs I never wrote for Michael until a few months ago when Steve Porcaro, of Toto and ‘Human Nature’ fame, called and said Michael had called him looking for hit singles. We worked on and off over the next few months and finished a fantastic lush and layered Human Nature type song called “The Little Things”. Though Michael never got to hear it, the Man In The Mirror type chant that opens it will forever remind me of him.

This 1984 Limited Edition Michael Jackson “Superstar of the 80’s” Doll features the King in his Beat It outfit. He came with ‘glittering “Magic” Glove and microphone’ but I’ve lost those over the years. Thriller, Billy Jean, American Music Awards and Grammy outfits were also available. He twists at the waist and bends with moveable arms so you can “recreate his famous dance steps”. 

I’ll break open the 1984 box of Michael Jackson Dress-Up Set Colorforms on another Kitsch O’ The Day within the next few days. R.I. P. M.J.

michael-jackson-doll__9198 michael-jackson-doll_9195

By far the most popular photo in the 19, count them, 19 photos of my house in the Los Angeles Times over the weekend was this one of my laundry chute: 

porthole-laudry-chute45154220

This makes me very happy as a porthole carved into my bedroom floor is a testament to my life philosophy of ‘if stuck with a weakness, turn it into a strength.’

In 1980, when I moved into my pink Streamline Moderne birthday cake of a house, built in 1937 as the party pad for MGM or Warner Bros. depending on who you listen to, all the floors were covered with thick beige shag carpeting. Now I who worship at the throne of kitsch do not mean to demean shag carpeting. Had it even been a little less crusty it would still be under my feet today. But I could tell by the way my pets hoovered it that many discretions had been committed upon that shag. So at precisely 8:00 am. August 1, 1980, the second I took official ownership, I was on my knees de-shagging the pad.

The wood underneath was the original hardwood floors, the kind of thin blond strips they don’t make any more. Never cared for or waxed and riddled with nail holes along the sides, the floor as a whole still looked pretty good except for where the aforementioned pet activity or overwatered potted plants left huge black stains. Most of these I could cover with my collection of vintage-suplemented-with-Ikea Atomic-rugs. But there was a spot in my seven sided bedroom where the wall turns 22 degrees every three feet where a carpet couldn’t lay in any kind of natural way so I just accepted the big black stain though it depressed me every time I looked at it. 

This the kind of Deco home where you know there’s a porthole looming somewhere. I have 3 of them downstairs in my paneled rec room with the singing sea life linoleum floor.

downstairs-img_1671

There are three more portholes outside:

porthole-cheeseimg_7274   dscn3292-porthole-bk-door1    

library-sm

All of these came via Ebay from either a 1951 US Naval cruiser or a 1952 Criss Craft boat. I bought another one that looked great in the photo but when it arrived wasn’t anywhere near as sturdy as the other ones and had little shards of mirror stuck between the brass sides. Who knew that portholes were such a big item in the world of mirrors?  The porthole sat idly in a box for years. And the only thing that covered the big black stain was my dirty clothes as they piled up on the floor because there was no laundry chute to deliver them downstairs to the washer and dryer.

I am one to use found objects in less than normal ways. Like I oftentimes use steering wheels for table legs:

steeringwheeltable45154235

So when I decided in 2002 that I couldn’t take looking at that big black stain anymore it made perfect sense to cut it out of the floor and use the once-mirror-porthole as the portal to the laundry chute. It was no surprise to me that of all of the photos in the LA Times the one of the chute garnered the most attention.  It makes me very happy to share my chute with the world now!

Jerrie Beat!

 

Had a totally triumphant party last night at ghettogloss, to launch “Hey Jerrie”, my latest music video with me and Jerrie Thill, my favorite 91 year old female drummer/singer on an oxygen tank.  I would have woken up and started to get photos up here but I looked at YouTube and the video has EXPLODED.  Close to 25,000 views in the first 24 hours and it’s on 37 charts around the world.   So I’m fielding a gaggle of emails,  Facebook messages and the like so reporting on the frivolity of the launch party will probably not happen til sometime this weekend.  So for now, please enjoy the video (hit the ‘Watch in HD link’ or it will look like crap) and send http://www.jer91.com to everyone you know.

Love from Allee and Jerrie.