Fishscale/V/: New.Entry-Transmission.Whatever.Wetnightmares.
Screamscapes.and.corporal.malfunctions//The movie theater has gone dim. The Kodak camera has lost its reel. The Mall is shuttered. The video store is closed. The soundtrack plays on the tape deck, scrambled. The Pyrex takes a nap for the evening. The national anthem plays after dusk behind a scrambled pornographic transmission. The ICE is out tonight and the night is on fire. The sky looks like a dead screen. No stars in the sky. No whistling wind. No connection. No firmware in a pushup brazier to tune into the right nocturnal frequency. Just dead space and a static filter, not even the air could be trusted with authenticity. Media never sleeps. The television stays on. It’s always on and watching us, omnipresent and instigating, a rabble rouser and a shit talker galvanizing the masses into herds and stampedes at the press of a button. A planned reaction to the insurgency of law. What have I walked into? They say revolution is out in the streets but, it’s all a mixer, a munch, a social fellatio, what have I walked into, a gaggle of geeks, gooners, meat pacifiers and skin socks – repeating what the TV eye and the cardboard says. All in step and out of order. For sincere reasons and free will – although dictated in silent vibration from the overseers Morse code. Engineered resistance to a problem that will be solved and locked down with dystopia and monitored by A.I. screws. Then. Here come the star fuckers and the vampires the celebrities and leeches. Lead by the pimps. The publicists. Celebrity cameo appearances in the back rows of protest. Kissing babies. Shakin’ hands. Only there for the photo-op and never joining rank at the frontline. Pretenders; actors; slaves to corporate rations and privilege; no gunplay, no backbone, just a game in the end. A hologram of a leg-wit-ammo, a box of blanks, rambling his gums into the void for a star on the avenue. Not here. It’s just another dead night and about this same dead time every night. They reenact and replay the same playlist and cosplay their childhood dreams. A boulevard of vapid dreamers, chipping away at the surfaces and hurling the city like feces at pigs, drones, naysayers and the npc. Nothing more but performance art against the machine. Showroom Dancers. With color commentary by your favorite content creators; jesters and critics feeding off the algorithm. Crossing their palms with silver traded in from your attention and likes; bunch of Svengalis and pied pipers in the new preachers clothes not like them but living a karaoke life in sheeple skin. A generation nursed on instant gratification through an umbilical usb cord detached from the contaminated coarse weather of reality and living one TikTok moment after another in some perverse REM sleepwalk. All copyrighted and sponsored by your elitist fascist overlords full-throttling their plans into a doomsday reset scenario and the birth of the new religion. Sponsored by oligarchs. You are all sleeping. Make it a better dreaming. Get into your phalanx formations. Red Dawn. Bravehearts. Look to your brother-in-arms. And behold leading the ranks. Not random protagonists. Imagine, just imagine under those hoods in the front. A fantasy.  – unveiled is the avengers or at least those that play them. Imagine yourselves rejuvenated with angst and righteous rage as those performers now possessed by the spirits of the IP that propelled their public image holding the line. As Christ Evans with trash lid in one hand and the stars & stripes in the other raised high; RDJrD2 in his aluminum foil iron armor inspiring courage in you. As descending from the rooftops with karambit gloves and fury in his teeth screaming to the heavens that “this is our ENDGAME!” is Hugh Jackalman too. Tears in your eyes and love swelling up in your frail chest and throats, “They’re here!” “The Avengers are here”. ”This is it!” A moment of our lifetimes when all men can lock shields and crush the oppressors under the tidal wave of change. freedom. and a better tomorrow. Something Aragonidus would say. What a dream that could be, Teen Wolves. Fleeting. Transitioning. Remixing. Getting carried away on a channel surf. The sequence again scrambled. The channel switched on everyone. All because the common man has lost his remote control. It’s been in the hand of the bad men this whole time. The bloody bag men. The usurpers. The adversary. The ones who remake, mutilate and remaster our memories and script our futures. The sky is a dead screen. The stars are blacked out. It’s just us in here and the movie rolls on. The show goes on. The empire strikes back. As everyone plays Sophie’s Choice every week on which Hot Topic to rally behind next. From the killing fields to local inconvenience. These aren’t freedom fighters this is the mob. And Rome knows its mob. How to fatten them up and keep them occupied with spectacle and gossip. The enemy knows the system. And the only responsible response is too crash the system. Crash N’ Burn. Hack the dream and make it yours.
Then. Then, I woke up. And the theaters were screening, the video store was open, the soundtrack restarted and the sky was in high resolution. What a beautiful sunset. The TV dinner smells amazing. That’s when I woke up. And forgot what I was dreaming about. //////….then WW3 began.
SamHaiNe

• Bonus: Chinatown (visual video) HaiNesVille:

“Come for the views and stay for the American Dream”.

Sunlight went and died across the mountains at dusk but, monotony lives on; redundant, repetitive, and recessive like so many retarded genes in tight jeans. So much wasted potential. So many pissed soaked flip flops mingling with toe nail polished cowgirl boots. How romantic. “Looking at your bitch through her dirty fake eyelashes”, I sees yous. A match made in a QuikTrip bathroom. This is that kind of town that likes to pick its own boogers before farting onto a homemade cake. And why wouldn’t it? Happy Birthday, Tucson.

It’s the kind of place that hides its deficiencies and takes pride in its fallacies. Stockpiling ammunition but, rattling at the knees over a wall. So much guns but the predators roam freely in town and I’m not talking about the coyotes. The type of place that’s bothered and fingers get triggered when you wish them, “Assalamualaikum”.  A place where you can buy menthol cigarettes, a 2 liter of soda and methamphetamine’s; while dodging the attacks of a javelin as a homeless couple two-steps with Circle K feet at 2am. This place.
Where the roads are crumbling, the schools are short staffed. Pop Culture has a late pass and the collective consciousness is more behind the times than public transportation; you don’t have to believe it to see it – you can feel it, like wet shit under your heel.
You make some friends and you like some of them. Some fade out and sometimes some of them die. People die, some too soon and some not soon enough. Some people shed tears and it is all theater, living their own delusions.

I need a Xanax for this heat, a bag of coke for the boredom and a muscle relaxer to suppress the constant stimulations to beat someone over the head with their dead grandmother’s dildo…  
I apologize, that was too much; No one here has a grandmother that interesting.
I need one of those Hannibal Lecter muzzles before I start eating faces to and fro work.

You get what you pay for. No, that’s not an air mattress, that’s the inevitable housing bubble. It’s the drivel and dreck, the cook that asks the new trainee if he’s “Pussy or not” cuz, “This is a man’s kitchen and men talk shit”. When what he really means is – Translation: “Are you going to hit me? Please don’t hit me”.

Did you know they river dance on the drugs, here? Fentanyl and all that government shit. Poisonous shit. A red white & blue kind of safe space, innit? Living free and dying for that American Dream. The American Dream? You can see it in the food and down the aisle at Walmart. The same people that reject free Health Care are visibly the ones that need it most. I hope the guy with the “let’s go brandon” decal on his truck falls off a razor and guillotines himself on thin piano wire. Let us pray, that politicians start forgetting to turn on their pilot lights too. Truly.
I need a Quaalude just to leave my house.

I miss the duffel bag mobility. I miss the hiss of steam and the ambient police sirens. I miss the decency of delinquency. I miss those Hainesville good times. I can still smell the fresh paint on the walls. I can still hear the racket from the Oasis bar, the Funkadelic, the possibilities. The hallucinations are becoming more frequent. Morning is here and for a few seconds I don’t recognize where I am. Like for a few breathes I’m somewhere else. Then I remember as I watch caterpillars of light crawling up the walls. My wife’s kiss is morphine. She sedates me most of the time. Fresh bowl of oatmeal on the table, bathrobe is warm and the OJ is cold. I need a pick me up to keep going. She gives me a kiss and I can repeat the day one more time.

Saturday August the 20th, 2022. Happy Birthday, Tucson. Keep your cake and choke on it, boo. Your wrinkles are showing and your Gucci bags are bootleg. Even your panties are secondhand, too. 

• SamHaiNe

Read more of the FISHSCALE entries:
https://newretrowave.com/tag/fishscale/

Look at what I found. Looks like I’ve found an entire episode of USA Networks UP ALL NIGHT starring the late Gilbert Gottfried.

See, in 1989 USA network was trying to establish a foothold on the burgeoning cable network wars. Imagine the competition we see happening now between streaming sites except back in the 80’s with analog cable network channels. The USA Network was once a sports network but, under new management began making moves to branch out its programming with original properties and syndicated shows. Yes there was still Golf broadcasts and Tuesday Night Boxing Nights was still a great time. But, now you had new seasons of AIRWOLF, The Hitchhiker, Ray Bradbury Theater, Alfred Hitchcock Presents, reruns of The New Mike Hammer, Murder She Wrote, Street Hawk, The Equalizer,  Dragnet, Werewolf, and then later Silk Stalkings, Swamp Thing and eventually the monolith that was Monday Night Raw. More importantly was the fan favorite late night movie show: UP ALL NIGHT that ran from 1989 – 1998.

Originally hosted by Gilbert Gottfried on Saturdays and by Caroline Schlitt on Friday nights (later replaced by Ronda Shear) Up All Night was a late night movie showcase similar to the Late Movie and the Late Late Movie show on ABC. Each film would be bookended by a skit from the host with additional skits peppered before and after commercial breaks. Most nights there would be two films and in later years a third film would be added without any skits just the UP ALL NIGHT title screen. The majority of the films featured were cult classics, B movies and low budget direct to video films like: Hell Comes to Frogtown (1988), Nightlife (1989), 976-Evil (1988), Bachelor Party (1984), Basket Case (1982), Body Double (1984) and you get the point.

This is the best quality I can find on site with the best volume. And the vintage commercials are included. Yes, even better than the film, the original aired advertisements are included.  Making this a must watch Retro Pick.

The featured movie is Loyd Kaufman’s classic Troma film THE TOXIC AVENGER; New Jersey’s only superhero of superhuman size and strength. Need I say more? Didn’t think so.

So sit up and kick back. Keep your fingers on that REWIND button and enjoy USA’s UP ALL NIGHT and the Toxic Avenger (1984).

Previous FISHSCALES:
Fishscale Prt. 1 – https://newretrowave.com/2018/11/20/fishscale-a-retro-flash-of-fiction-part-1/

Fishscale Prt. 2 – https://newretrowave.com/2021/08/30/fish-scale-part-2-a-nostalgic-flash-fiction/

“Late night coming home from a temp job for some automotive corporation.

I was expecting the usual greeting and shaking of the hands with every graveyard shift hustler and loiterer that happened to be outside earning cash or just hanging out into the weekend. But, it was oddly quiet for mid August. Probably because there were three black & white patrol cars parked in front of my building. 

“Great, what now?”

The lobby of building 545 had smelled foul for almost a week. A really shitty smell; like dead rats behind a bodega wall. That stench reached a new level when I left for work, this morning. A Rancid, sweet, wet scent, almost inedible. A dozen pussy plugs in a sweaty soiled toilet kind of smell. And the summer humidity only exasperated that aroma. But, that was this morning?  It’s after midnight. What’s going on?

My cross-eyed superintendent had the front door and the side entrance to the dumpsters open.  The smell was so bad you could smell it from the lobby entrance.

I walked in and was like, “Shit?!?”. The Super told me that someone subletting apartment 1B couldn’t take the odor any longer and knocked on a roommates bedroom door to confront them about the smell. Knocking and knocking before opening the door to find the corpse of said roommate.

The people on the lease never bothered to complain bout the smell beforehand because, they were illegally renting out rooms for a profit. So discreet, they were about things, that even the people renting in the apartment barely knew anything about or bothered each other. 

Shit tends to break the fan when you find the naked bloated body of your housemate in bed still watching infomercials; slowly decomposing on his sheets during a hot August heatwave with high humidity in the nineties. 

I’m not sure if I knew the deceased but my hunch is – it was this forty year old guy that rented there for years. If it was, he was a pervert. I knew this because he at one time offered a kid I once knew a few dollars for “Favors” once. …The kid said No. However, the youngbol and his older brother did grift the guy by luring him to our rooftop promising some “handoverfist” with “happy-endings”, and robbed the vic for whatever money they could shake from him. Then extorted him for a few weeks after that with threats of bodily harm and criminal charges.

If it was him rotting in the building, Good Riddance. 

I sat on the staircase listening to Gang Starr’s Mass Appeal album, smoking a few cigarettes, and watching the PIGS and EMT’s rub ointment under their noses and burn some incense to weaken the stench of rot in the air. I even watched our simpleminded super almost kill us all by mopping our hallway with a strong mixture of bleach n water. The chemicals were the worst. I could stomach dead body odor. After all it wasn’t my first time being near a dead body before tonight. 

I stayed there and just watched. I watched neighbors walk into the building and cover their noses in repulsion. I watched a few of them almost vomit where they stood. I listened in on the police taking statements from the roommates and the Super. I always liked recording witness statements when I worked for a private investigator a few years ago. So, I was kind of imagining myself interview all of them. 

The whole thing went on for a few hours. I saw the crime scene detectives arrive on the scene and the meat wagon pickup the body. But, all I kept thinking was –
What was he watching on television.?”

FISH SCALE PART 1 : https://newretrowave.com/2018/11/20/fishscale-a-retro-flash-of-fiction-part-1/

Natural City, the album is still available only at www.samhaine.bandcamp.com
A collection of short monologues and flash fictions highlighting some of the individuals that call Hainesville “Home”. These are stories about people who live outside the margins that define civility and exist in the moment on the edge of a razor-blade. This is a pulp future-present inspired by neo-noir, retro nostalgia and some cyberpunk aesthetics. 

Chauncey had just stumbled his way out of the VIP lounge and down the alley connecting Spruce to Locust as he was casually strolling to his own beat. His arms moving in rhythm and his stride wide. Back and forth as he somehow maintained his equilibrium after three shots of pure absinthe and a few crumbs of mushrooms. He was baked, tossed, hammered, grinded up, lit and totally wild as he whistled during his march down the street.

The earphones on his head were pulsing and pushed to their auditory limits with sounds from a personalized mixtape of his own making. Songs by Sisters of Mercy, Siouxsie & the Banshees, The Bolshoi, The Alarm, My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult, Dramarama, Death in June and he even threw in some Depeche Mode and, dare I say it, some Lauren Brannigan.

The music was the soundtrack to his pilgrimage for a good time and some good ole’ cheer. A sincere remedy for the condition of being alive and in the moment. Every second was an elixir to a higher plateau of being. A true objective pessimist, he embraced his stain in the universe and chose to burn his signature into existence like a Turkish filtered cigarette in the ashtray of life.

He was a man of his own making. Too good for Members Only and the only shoes worthy of his feet were some ADIDAS sambas. If it wasn’t two-tone, then he didn’t wear it. His suits were pressed, tailored and smart. The Fred Perry on his pullover never looked crisper. He was a bubble gum chewing aggro; too cool for any school. Maybe that’s why he never finished after Junior year.

The supplier at the warehouse party was dry and he knew it was After Hours at the Shade on 22nd Street.

Past three intersections and well on his way to his destination and soon “Liftoff”. He was well into the guitar solo of “A Strange Day” by The Cure from the Pornography album, when out of his peripheral a white Monte Carlo SS rips a wicked right turn and nearly smears him against the Volkswagen parked at the hydrant.

He felt his soul shift a few inches into his stomach and his testicles shrink.

The white muscle car spun out but the driver regained his control of the car like a professional drunk driver and not some weekend enthusiast. Chauncey was pissed but anger soon became horror  when the pan handler, jay walking, down the street gets hit and lays there broken and in extreme pain on the asphalt.

Just when the night was getting started.

“What am I supposed to do, now?”
– SamHaiNe …
samhaine.bandcamp.com

To be continued in part 2 –   https://newretrowave.com/2021/08/30/fish-scale-part-2-a-nostalgic-flash-fiction/

Dark All Day is OUT NOW!

Stream and enjoy. GUNSHIP’s 2nd offering has much to digest and enjoy. Look out for the album review coming in a few days.

Support GUNSHIP:

http://www.gunshipmusic.com | https://www.facebook.com/GUNSHIPMusic | https://twitter.com/GUNSHIPMusic | https://instagram.com/GUNSHIPMusic

I know everyone right now is celebrating Michael Jackson on his what would’ve been his 60th birthday. Happy Birthday, Jacko. But, I wanted to remember another B-List celebrity of the 1980’s, better known as the host of Lifestyles of the Rich & Famous and the voice behind over the top, cheesey, self-indulgent wealth and celebrity, Robin Douglas Leach.

The loud and charismatic Leach, was born in London and started out as a young editor for his school paper before graduating from and as a local journalist for the Harrow Observer for only a few pounds a week.

He became the youngest “Page One” reporter for the Britain’s Daily Mail before, later moving to the States and worked for publications such as the New York Daily News, People and Ladies Home Journal.

At some point in the nineteen-eighties, Leach became the host and voice behind Lifestyles of the Rich & Famous. Lifestyles was a syndicated series documenting the lives of well-known and (in later seasons)  obscure celebrities and aired from the mid-1980’s all the way into the 90’s when Shari Belafonti was added to the show as his co-host. Shari Belafonti, not a superstar celebrity but obviously recognized as the daughter of Harry Belafonti. An addition that in my eyes was well suited for the show since by this time in the ninties the shows list of stars to showcase started to scrap the bottom of the barrel and almost seem like a parody of itself.

Lifestyles was created by Alfred M. “Al” Masini, who had also created Solid Gold, Entertainment Tonight, and Star Search;all of these were part of his Operation Prime Time project, which he later renamed Television Program Enterprises and later merged with Rysher Entertainment to form Rysher TPE, though Solid Gold or Entertainment Tonight were never syndicated by TPE or Rysher but all 4 are now owned by CBS Television Distribution.”
– https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lifestyles_of_the_Rich_and_Famous

Lifestyles had two spinoff series, Runaway with the Rich and Famous, also hosted by Leach. The series also aired in first-run syndication, from 1986 to 1994. There was also Fame, Fortune and Romance broadcast on ABC from 1986 to 1987. I briefly remember  Runaway but the later “Fame, Fortune,..” I haven’t the slightest recollection of .

The damn show was very aware of itself. The 80’s were all about being unapologetic and reckless with your cash. Excess and lack of consideration for the waste or lack off were the mode. Style over substance and in some cases just style. The celebrities on the show were no different. I remember on episode, it might’ve been centered around a sheikh, member of royalty or some Tony Stark type 1%er that had yachts and a gold toilet. The toilet was made of friggin’ gold. I was under the age of ten years and , no lie, there were two songs that if they started playing, I would run to the television full- speedforce: 1. The Fraggle Rock theme song and Lifestyles. Now that I’m thinking about it, maybe Married with Children and the Robin of Sherwood theme are up there on that list. The theme music was by Bill Conti titled, “Come with me now” from the film Five Days from Home (1979). Another raging tune that would play either during the opening of the show or wit promos of upcoming episodes is “Runaway” from the 1981 James Bond film ‘For Your Eyes Only’.

If there be a collected Blue-Ray of the series, I want one. It’s so dated and a time capsule of an America obsessed with its own vanity and the style and what was considered, “Cool” need to be preserved in the mental  museums of our nostalgia playsets. Pay close attention the expressions of colors, fabrics, neons, shoulder pads, leather slip-on shoes with no socks, silk shirts and at the end of every episode “Champagne wishes and Caviar Dreams”.

The Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous host died at the age of 76 on Friday, August 24. The Las Vegas Review-Journal, where he worked as a celebrity columnist, reported that he had been hospitalized since suffering a stroke in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, in November 2017. He had a second and more serious stroke on Monday, August 20. The reporter moved to Las Vegas in 1999 and spent his final years covering local star-studded events. Leach is survived by his sons Steven, Gregg and Rick.

Stay Classy and Elegant and keep your hearts on the Rewind Button.

This months Retro Motors looks back at some of the best cartoon vehicles. Again the 80’s and early 90’s were the host to an abundance of all action vehicular combat based cartoons; ranging from the absolutely absurd, to some of the finest animated work to date. Taking a look over what people consider “The best cartoons” today, it’s clear to see that we have moved away from the more classic storytelling and instead opted for balls out, physiologically unsettling and surreal. Back then it was good vs evil, David vs Goliath, man vs machine- or a mix of all three. Not only did the majority of these cartoons tell of a great adventure or explore some primal instincts but they also looked damn cool.

A group I wholeheartedly feel should exist in real life is M.A.S.K (Mobile Armoured Strike Command). If money were no object I’d mobilise a team akin to M.A.S.K and chase ivory poachers with a flying Camaro that shoots rockets. People like Elon Musk think they’re doing the world a favour by producing silent cars and an underground tunnel, but I feel if I was wealthy enough, people would much rather watch a live feed of me in a flying Camaro bombing Japanese whaling boats.

Thunderhawk

No list of the coolest cartoon vehicles could end without mentioning Transformers, although my favourite robot was not only a bad guy but was never a vehicle in the first place. Sound wave, for me, always stood out for the fact he decided to talk through a vocoder and his arsenal consisted of a massive cannon and weaponised cassette tapes.

Yet no other cartoon character made such an impact on me than Optimus Prime. I seem to remember entering a Video Nest here in the UK and choosing a film for Friday night with my dad. From Thundercats to HE MAN, Jason and the Wheeled Warriors to Teenage Mutant Ninja turtles. What could go wrong with a full feature length film about these mighty metal heros? Optimus Prime could go wrong, that’s what.

Optimus Prime

There are some people who still believe that certain human beings, deceased yet period correct, still wander the earth as ghosts. It is believed that certain spectral entities come back with such tasks as moving trinkets, walking without purpose or simply switching on and off the lights. They may be one of the most underwhelming myths of the natural world but the Ghostbusters on the other hand are real and the film is a masterpiece. The Real Ghostbusters was the name of the animated series and what a series it was- exploring further into the characters whilst retaining all the fun and bizarre ghost stories of New York City.

Ecto 1 is a Cadillac- in case you didn’t know. Miller-Meteor, the famous coach builder, designed and manufactured modified versions for businesses who required a classy looking vehicle as big a boat. It had been used as an ambulance-come-hearse in some states of America and became infamous when it starred in the Ghostbusters film. The unforgettable wail of the siren and the bright colour scheme are as iconic as that silver car from Back To The Future.

Ecto 1

The best Batmobile has been and gone when Michael Keaton drove it back in 1989. Long, black, sleek and sexy, complete with mounted guns, turbine and armour plating. Since then the Batmobile has gone from looking like it runs the city, to something that looks like Super-Goth is trying to compensate.

A little later in 1992 Batman the animated series was launched. A beautifully animated, well scripted; timeless, moving comic, also featuring its very own Batmobile. In keeping with the gothic art deco style of the series, the Batmobile of this era is a brutal looking, four wheeled slab of a car. Housing what appears to be a monstrous V12 and with all the essential gadgets like teargas, bullet proof armour and missiles. The dark deco style was inspired by Tim Burton’s work and in my opinion deserves a live action version someday, if only to see the car for real.

The Batmobile

Not exactly a cartoon, more like an animated schizophrenic episode- Akira is an extraordinary masterpiece of technical ability, eccentric storytelling and cult imagery. Any New Retro Wave fan will tell you, the Neo-Tokyo setting is an unnerving mix of real world imagery and sci-fi elements that blend in such a brutal way, it’s going to leave a mark.

My lasting memory of the film however was not the face melting fight sequences but the bike. Kaneda is a young teen with a bad attitude. He’s also the leader of a biker gang who take no shit when it comes to the open road. His chosen chariot is renowned even before you get to see it. Rumour has it this thing was a 200mph, electronically driven sports bike. Whatever it is, it’s one of the coolest animated vehicles to date. Some die hard fans of the franchise have spent thousands creating exact replicas. It has even inspired Honda to create something that closely resembles Shotaro Kaneda’s iron horse.

Kaneda’s bike

These vehicles were at first animated, then became toys and now in some cases would become a reality. I may not be able to have my very own Batmobile but I’ve always thought cars and bikes bring adventure and can become a very real emotional attachment. I hope that even with the decline of fossil fuel burning vehicles, we could see a revival of memorable characters and and equally as memorable vehicular concepts.

“Bill & Ted is an American comedy film series featuring William “Bill” S. Preston Esq. (Alex Winter) and Theodore “Ted” Logan (Keanu Reeves) as two metalhead slackers who travel through time. The first Bill & Ted film, Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure, was released on February 17, 1989, followed by a sequel two years later entitled Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey. A third film, Bill & Ted Face the Music, started pre-production in May 2018. In addition to the films, the franchise has seen both an animated television series (with Winter and Reeves reprising their roles) and a live-action television series in 1990 and 1992 respectively, video games, and comic books. Originally produced by Orion Pictures, the franchise ownership fell to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM) following the purchase of Orion in 1997.”
– https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bill_%26_Ted_(franchise)

I was seven years old and one of my relatives took me to the cinema to watch the first one. The second I rented at my neighborhood video store. The late 80’s into 90s feel is immortalized in these films, the colors, the clothes, the lingo the almost Saturday morning cartoon-like depictions of a future living in world peace through rock & roll and air-guitar. By the way – Joan of Arc was really hot and lets’ not forget the medieval princess.

I remember Keanu Reeves during his press interviews for John Wick being asked about a possible B&T3 and how enthusiastic he was to discuss a possible storyline that him, Winters and the original team where throwing around about the film and how they were working on getting off the ground. His excitement became my excitement and let me say this, “I will be at the midnight showing of this on premiere night”. So far i haven’t been too disappointed and very impressed by a lot of retro sequels lately. From the AMAZING Blade Runner 2949 to the recently released first season of Cobra Kai (the first two episode review also on this site) I’m all in… All the way in.

So what do we know so far:

The Hollywood Reporter revealed the news out of Cannes today.

Currently in pre-production, Bill & Ted Face the Music will see the duo long past their days as time-traveling teenagers and now weighed down by middle age and the responsibilities of family. They’ve written thousands of tunes, but they have yet to write a good one, much less the greatest song ever written. With the fabric of time and space tearing around them, a visitor from the future warns our heroes that only their song can save life as we know it. Out of luck and fresh out of inspiration, Bill and Ted set out on a time travel adventure to seek the song that will set their world right and bring harmony in the universe as we know it. Together with the aid of their daughters, a new crop of historical figures, and some sympathetic music legends, they find much, much more than just a song.

Dean Parisot (Galaxy Quest) will direct the film from a script by original writers Chris Matheson and Ed Solomon. Of course, Alex Winter and Keanu Reeves will reprise their roles almost three decades after the original two films, and Bill and Ted’s daughters will be joining their time-traveling adventures this time around. MGM, which owns the rights to the series, will release the film in the US, while international sales are currently in the works at the Cannes Film Festival.
P.S. I’m too happy about this to edit. 🙂

LET’S DO THIS!!!!!!

I was immobile and needed wheels fast, but In the meantime I borrowed a Mercedes SL350. An all singing, all dancing modern car with more buttons inside than KITT itself. But instead of offering advice on the ladies or providing backup when I needed it, the female computerised voice assistant often remarked on the fact that something was out of date or that it couldn’t find the given location.

Self-closing doors, rain detecting windscreen wipers, heated seats and climate control are all well and good, when they work perfectly. Whoever thought of keyless entry into a car worth many thousands of pounds obviously had no idea about hacking amongst other things. Merely supply a car with decent locking features in the first place and you’ll save yourself a lot of trouble later on. Anyway, I’m not here to talk about how ‘progressive’ design features have hindered functionality and maintainability on today’s vehicles. I’m here to talk about this;

The shark nosed, quad light, BMW E28. A beautifully crafted, well rounded machine which no doubt paved the way to the slogan ‘The ultimate driving machine’.

I picked up my E28 purely for looks but underneath I was quietly confident about the well renowned German craftsmanship, the owners weren’t lying. The E28 ran from 1981 until 1988, arguably the golden era of motoring, although the model names are about as exciting as a picnic in the rain. The 518, 520, 524, 525, 528, 535 etcetera. Unlike the Japanese, who were still naming their cars by apparently choosing words at random from a dictionary. The German methodical and formal approach was tried and tested.

The first thing you notice about the car when you sit in it, is the perfectly formed and well positioned, everything. Driving a BMW from the 80’s makes you wonder if they had paid designers from other manufacturers of mass produced vehicles, to purposely integrate awful design features so they could climb the top of the proverbial status ladder.

The 520i was the entry level six cylinder engine as the 518 was the fairly under powered four cylinder fuel injection. The iconic sound of BMW’s M series engines produce something quite euphonious and delivers power effortlessly. My car in particular had Alpina style alloy wheels and an up-rated exhaust, it wasn’t too far from the factory spec and that’s how i like it. Driving with the windows down became quite common, it wasn’t loud but produced the perfect soundtrack to a decent midnight cruise. Inside, the car lit up with a soft red haze on the minimal dash, I paired this with an aftermarket stereo unit with a red illumination and this became a welcome sight on a night time journey. To finish off the two tone brown velour interior are lightly tinted windows all round, making the world look that little more nostalgic.

The drive home was certainly less nerve racking than the previous motors, the faultless journey was a sign of things to come. As the bodywork was so good anyway, I decided to develop my skills in the restoration of paint and practice my waxing skills. Previously I had learned all that I know from trained killer and chop stick wielder, Mr Miyagi. It was time to get off the starting blocks. Mastering the art of automobile cleaning and restoration is a little like martial arts in the way that no matter how good you think are going to be, you’ll look like shit when you throw the first punch.

Rinse down, clay bar, wash and wax, these fundamentals, once attained will stick with you and are easily applied to other areas of automobile maintenance. If you are a car enthusiast you will have heard the old lore that cleaning will provide extra HP? Well I can’t disprove it. Who doesn’t talk to their car at night?

The 80’s five series is practical, functional, easy to maintain and effortlessly driven. The 520i entry level six cylinder produced a little over 120 hp, the top of the range was obviously the M5 and if you were lucky enough to own one of these, the M88 engine kicked out over 280 hp.

Before you all start asking whether or not I’m being paid by BMW to talk about the brand, I sold it.

Yes, even with the silky smooth running gear and quintessentially 80’s styling, i missed the brutal power of three litres. To this day i regret the sale of the BMW but it went to a good home and is being showcased in magazines from time to time. The five series looks like it has a purpose on the road, they are now admired, modified and cherished as anything built this well should be.

Catch next month’s article when I relive some memories of Chase HQ!

This weeks ‘song of the week’ is a LGHTNNG double bill-Sharks/ Run:
Sharks.

Sharks:

A washed out arpeggio synth falling upwards like gravity in reverse, simultaneously pulling you further into the song as it tries to escape. A muted guitar riff is layered on top of the arp, the two parts are at war with one another creating the friction that propels the song forwards. A voice enters to negotiate the space with a fifty-fifty give and take, push and pull. It appears, oddly, beautifully, cutting its way through the centre of the track. The voice is vague-familiar-alien, romantic, tragic. Deliberately moody.  A voice you’re sure you’ve heard before.
This is how it sounds to walk straight through the evening, hoping not to be spotted, on the edge of something, circling the room. Sharks features four different melody sections, all chorus worthy and equally compelling so that there is always something new, always movement. ‘We move like sharks.’
 
Run:

Giving a vivid warm saturated unrelenting background to contend with the female voice seems to be escaping from a fog, a false mist pumping from a nightclub machine, creating an invisible oblivion. Run is intrigued by the possibility of deliberately capturing a frozen moment in time, a couple of decades behind us. A wonderful nostalgia is created, a vivid anticipation, then some startled reality followed by the illusion of loss, a melancholia hangs over the haunted voice. Once more the melody seems into your mind and will cast a shadow over it for the days to come. For a second there is a resemblance of something, a long time ago now, like everything else. Where’ve you been all your life? A girl’s voice as insubstantial as condensation that sits on the window ledge. Scraping across the edges of the song. Taken to the point of near-ecstasy and unconsciousness abstraction that is a wipe out.
 
LGHTNNG – Sharks/ Run