(originally posted on the Relics 03/23/15)
I barely knew Frankie “Glitterdoll”, the sum total of our correspondence, was doing heroin together once or twice (I remember he charged me way too much for the dope, but what are you gonna do when you want to get high). Just another junkie I kinda knew…not sure if that’s what killed him, he died youngish (may he RIP), although I have no idea how old he was. My favorite junkie at that time was a guy named Choad, who, sure enough, died young too. Frankie had this friend, if I remember right, her name was Laura, I knew her kinda, before she got into junk, a real looker, model pretty. After a few months of that shit, she turned into a legit junkie too, go figure, and looked like living hell (don’t know whatever happened to her, hopefully not the same fate as the Glitterdoll). So anyway, on the Humboldt Punk Facebook page, off and on over the last couple of years, people have been posting photos (thanx to the person who supplied the above photo and apologies for not giving credit to that mystery person), making comments, memorializing/idolizing him. That’s where I found out he played music and if you know me, my interest was immediately piqued, curious as hell as to what this immortal band must sound like. Found out there was some tape floating around of his music and it took me a couple of years before I could pick up a copy, (almost picked up a copy from an old Humboldt head, who’s now all cleaned up and shiny, God bless him, Milton), and then from right under my nose, my Bro Ed came through with a digital copy. Got the mp3s and my first impression was, I was impressed. Sloppy, snotty, smart-assed, stupid…great shit. That early punk vibe, meaninglessly meaningful, they remind me of a very raw Flipper mixed with the Butthole Surfers, but a lot less talented. Think bad acid, the pleasant kind. You can almost visualize the room this was recorded in, I doubt it was a proper studio, more of the type of place that had a floor covered with a mix of blood, shit, vomit, cum, broken bottles, empty cans, used needles. Junkie jam music of the finest caliber…
HERE (choose the “slow download” button)…or listen…
EDIT: …and then, almost five years after this post was written, I get an email from a Delta O’ Hara, who knew Frankie. She corrected me on a few things, like Laura being his “girlfriend”, but of course, that was not the case (I fixed that in my little deal up there). This brought back a lot of memories for me about this period of time (’92, give or take). I wanted to set the record straight here and point out that I was no better or worse than the Glitterdoll (or Choad), I just survived. During this period, I wasn’t hooked on heroin as much I just loved the needle and shooting up whatever I could. I was a grower at the time with a very close friend of mine (who shall remain unnamed) and we had a friend who was a pharmacist, that just so happened to be a stoner. Uh oh, trouble right…fucking eh, a match made in heaven. We traded weed for pharmaceuticals and the party was raging beyond control at that point. I don’t even remember all the names of the shit I would put in my veins (the one I do remember is morphine sulfate…DO NOT shoot up morphine sulphate). Anyway, Delta was kind enough to share something wonderful she had written about Frankie over two decades ago and has given me permission to share it with y’all…
Glitterdoll (Rockstar)
He lived above El Trebol. The noise never bothered him. Today he woke up into a hangover, took his Lithium, did half a line of speed and stepped out to get coffee and catfood. It was Saturday, a beautiful day, heavenly. He stopped to write his name in some wet cement. There were a lot of important things to do today; he felt extremely happy. Last night his band played a gig at the Chameleon and all his friends had been there, cheering, watching as he goose-stepped in a black negligee. He had felt loved; to him, the most important thing. Glitterdoll was ready for fame. He’d been ready all his life. Often he imagined himself being interviewed on TV, riding in limousines, trashing expensive hotel rooms, accepting the uninhibited advances of sex crazed young boys. Again and again he relived the evening in his mind. The performance had been constantly interrupted by wailing feedback, and one of the amps had blown up. The guitarist had kept stopping to retune his guitar, and when the audience began throwing beer cans the proprietor had stopped the show prematurely. But all that Glitterdoll remembered was adoration. He walked on through the lower Mission, his thoughts shifting and changing shape. Six feet tall, he had a shaved head and wore steel toed suede boots, a death’s head T-shirt, studded wristbands and several strings of yellow and pink popper beads that swung gaily about his neck as he passed a group pf homeboys on a stoop, all of whose eyes tracked him balefully. He paused and flashed them a winsome rotten toothed smile. “Hello darlings – lovely day for faggots, isn’t it?”_
At some point in the not too distant future his purple suede boots would come to contrast sadly with his Kaposi’s sarcoma. He never would get a T cell count; and despite extravagant plans to the contrary, he would end his life in diapers.
But today he felt so happy, he felt like he could fly to the moon. Later on he would tie a balloon to his cat Leon’s tail, to punish him for eating his pot plants. Then maybe after that he’d go downtown to see the shops, and all the expensive things that he didn’t want to buy. The honchos on the stoop made derogatory comments about him after he’d passed, but not quite loudly enough to force him to go back and deal with them. Continuing on his way he blithely entertained visions of future glory, humming to himself the while, ‘A Pretty Girl Is Like A Melody’. Delta O’ Hara copyright 1997
Not saying I’m some kind of genius, but damn it there are some people that lack common sense in this world, and they’re breathing the same air I am. To say education is important, is such an understatement because it gets into the fabric of the machine in which we’re stuck, unless we educate ourselves (and even then we’re probably just fooling ourselves when we think we can live outside the machine). Do they even teach critical thinking anymore…a little logic goes a long way, you know. Stacks of snakes in tubes right Shawn? Or how about ethics, do they teach that any more…we can’t even treat other human being with decency. Makes me think of Frank Zappa’s Dumb All Over (which I may have posted before, but now’s as good a time as any for some regurgitation)…
Name that flick!
First off wanted to thank a former Humboldt County resident, Nate for sending me off on a JPG tangent. I’m not just a mp3 collector, I do have several thousand records, cassettes and CDs, I do support the bands, but when there is no other option sometimes all that exists is digital. In fact, I am not a fan of digital only releases, but I guess whatever puts some money in an artist’s pocket is a good thing (cuz after all don’t we all just want to be able to support ourselves through our art…note, I have no artistic skills). I had posted on the Humboldt Punk page that I was looking to make a compilation of as many punk(ish) bands as possible from that region over the last 40+ years. Nate was the only one who came to my aid and thanx to his 2000s additions the number of bands is up to 113. Among the bands/folks he blew me away with, damn there was some good shit during that era (hopefully posting soon), is JPG. This guy is the bomb when it comes to his special brand of electronic/rap/something or other. No matter what you stamp it, it’s highly original/unusual. Not sure if he did all the producing or what the deal is (Nate did say it was not well received at first up there), but I’ve had this song stuck in my head off and on for a couple of weeks now (dig it or don’t)…
