Chuck

Five years ago my life was the lip of a cliff racing towards me. I turned 30 a year and a month ago. No cliff. Now I'm on a desert highway. I stand between two vanishing points equal distance apart. The Southern point behind me is great times, abusive danger, chemical questions, fear of losing bandmates, four hours sleep every night. The Northern point is taking risks, the unknown mystery of love and children, the end to emotional fascism/barbarism, and the genetic awakening of evolutionary freedom.

.....so dude! Happy Birthday! I love you man!! We party this weekend and next!! I'm an old man... you guys party too much!! Blaaarggghhh!!!

Here's the Birthday Party!!!

Ron Asheton

Ron Asheton of the Stooges died on January 6, 2009.

In the late sixties wake of hippiedom, he returned guitar playing to it's reductive state, which you can hear on the first Stooges album. Asheton played it like a percussive instrument and the results are absurdly astounding as he locked into a caveman rhythm with sibling and Stooges drummer, Scott Asheton. It was as much about jazz as it was about blues and garage punk. The thick distorted mess of tones (thanks to his too loud amp and John Cale's production) dwarfed the studio sound of most of the other rock acts of the time. When I listen to "The Stooges" I can hear the dimestore wah-wah fuzz pull itself out of my speakers by its pinkie fingers, slide onto my floor and boogie on it's back in some wretched fetal pose.

If the first lp was, is and always shall be a true Saturday night record, then the second album "Fun House", is was and always shall be the searing hangover. This the group's best offering (don't even come to me with that "Raw Power" shit. The album rules, but it's not Fun House). The first cut, "Down on the Street", is the spins on a hot night followed by "Loose", the sound of the embarrassing Frankenstein stumble to the bathroom. The album leaves you hunched over the porcelain in a fog of dreary-eyed self-loathing as it slows down for "Dirt". The rest is an overpowering blur.
I still can't get over how bright and crisp Asheton's guitar sounds amidst the boom and reverb. The chords were there, but they sort of swelled and pulsed in a way I still can't explain. It was on this album that Asheton showcased his fucking unholy solos. Back then, The Stooges's records had such a reputation of being so shitty, but holy shit! The boy could play some motherfucking evil solos. I'll never understand how this was such a hard pill to swallow in the seventies. Of course my eyes are wearing the rose-colored lenses of a post-Stooges world where their influence is predominant (as it was filtered and distilled to the masses in the late 70's guise of "Punk Rock").

Mr. Pop gets a lot of credit for the Stooges, but it would never have been the same without Ron Asheton's playing. His playing is often noted for it's primitive charm, but seldom gets proper praise for it's inventiveness, defiance and artistic beauty. "I Wanna be Your Dog" was the first riff I learned. I think every human being on earth should learn that riff because those three chords are so fucking empowering. I got supremely bummed when I heard of his passing and the for first time, I was somewhat affected by the death of a cultural icon. I am glad I got the chance to see the reunited Stooges a few years back. Hearing almost all of Fun House live was what normal people probably feel when they go to church. Rest in peace, Ron. Thanks for the jams.