Marc Spitz

For some reason I woke up yesterday with the song “Branded” by Rose Tattoo in my head. It stayed in my head while I was walking the dogs. Finally, I had to find the video on YouTube and just watch the fucking thing end to end. Only true way to kill an earworm. I remember the song because it vexed me when I was thirteen or so. It would come on MTV and I would have to wait at least three minutes to hear any New Wave. Some hard rock and metal got me back then. Def Leppard. AC/DC. I don’t know why it took me twenty eight years to come around to Angry Anderson, but that guy was killer. Bald, sneering, in a biker jacket, he sounded like Bon Scott but looked like the dude from The Hills Have Eyes after a case of lager. Their other big song was “Nice Boys,” which Guns N’ Roses cover on GNR Lies (the Rose Tattoo original is far superior and I believe I am going to DJ it from now on). Nobody had to sell me on Devo back in the day. I was Devo from about 1980 onward. I interviewed Mark Mothersbaugh for Neutron Bomb. I remember Brendan Mullen and I drove to his acid green compound on the West end of Sunset Boulevard and I had the worse hangover of my life. Parts of my skull were melting and my stomach and liver had switched places in my torso and were playing pattycake. I literally could not keep my eyes open. Brendan did most of the talking and Motehrsbaugh, as I recall, was pretty shy. Are we not men of few words? Happily Gerald Casale who I talked to on the telephone some months later, was really up, and funny with good recall. I remember snarfing my Jack and Coke when he said, recalling how the band used to introduce songs when they’d play bars in Ohio, “This next song is by Foghat, it’s called ‘Mongoloid.” Sometimes one good line will keep you going when your energy begins to flag. I think that’s a show business axiom. I tried to get Devo into the Bowie book because Bowie was gaga over them in ’76 and ‘7. Wanted to produce their debut. Eno ended up doing it. Bowie introduced them one night as “the band of the future” and they really are. Their music has not aged a day in thirty years. I saw them at Irving Plaza this weekend and the rock writer I was with turned to me and said, “If this record came out this year, it would top my year end best of list.” They played Freedom of Choice in its entirety and it was tough. They played the debut the night before. Brendan was supposed to interview Mothersbaugh on Bowie for me but it never came together. The former was too busy and now I know why. The band look and sound like they’d been training. Just a thoroughly more bad ass Devo than the one that played Central Park with the Yeah Yeah Yeahs a few years ago. They look about fifteen years younger (of course I was way back by the bar because unlike most shows at Irving, you coulnd’t even slink towards the front). It was almost worth not having them in the book. At least I have them in one book. Isn’t that right, Booji Boy????? I personally am all for playing albums in their entirety. There was a little bit in the Times this weekend about how the trend might be hackneyed at this point. Going to see Pixies play Doolittle (which inspired the Times blurb) tomorrow and pretty excited. I have Pixies stories. I toured with them during their first reunion dates five years ago while writing a Spin cover story. Cried on the side of the stage in Paris (one of maybe a half dozen times I’ve ever cried since I became… a man) when they played “Where Is My Mind.” I am going to save these anecdotes for a book. Maybe a memoir in ten years or something. Not the next book. I now know what the next book will be but I’m not telling you that either. Not yet. Soon. Anyway, I was so inspired by Devo, yet another example of recapturing that eternal spark no matter what age, that I bought a flowerpot hat. I tried to put it on my dog’s head so I could upload a nifty Iphone photo here but Devo scares her.

Q: Are we not men?

A: No, we aren’t. Asshole. We’re fucking dogs and we don’t wear those stupid hats. How much did you pay for that cheap piece of plastic anyway? Also, open the fridge. Leave it open, then hit yourself in the head with a hammer.