If all gravel roads lead somewhere, you wouldn’t be surprised to pass old, broken-down trailers in the neighborhood. And a fixture of riff-raffery, some of Beetlejuice’s low-down neighbors poking around a grill like a whiskey-guzzling musk-rat.
Brutal, lordly. NSFW– (“Not safe for work) as if a dude like this even worked.
It’s “El Duce” from the shock-rock beer-belly set. You’ll recognize him for his sadomasochist stylings, concealing his objectionable identity with a black hood and guttural offensive charms as he fronted “The Mentors” like THE KINGS OF SLEAZE festering on the Pacific Coast.
Langouring trailer-park women in leather and garters, his presumed harem as he bulges out his eyes like bonk-headed, glazed space mutants in foam-rubber monster costumes “demanding to be gratified”.
Indeed, “a threat to health, wealth, and morals” whose raunchy lyrics were presented before Congress in hearings by “The Washington Wives”, calling for restraint and decency in the music industry. Good luck with that– the only thing they succeeded in doing was getting “Parental Advisory: Explicit Lyrics” stickers on tapes & CD’s and probably just making the offending music THAT MUCH MORE ENTICING.
No matter what, you’ll always have the bottom-feeders like ole’ El Duce putting on shows and selling underground records out of a car trunk, a slap on your shoulder and an ice-cold beer in the other hand as he yuks it up like an unsubtle statement about America.
Just another misfit in the world of Beetlejuice “who fits”.
Call him “Uncle Perv”. . . . . though I think Lydia would remain wary to the proposition of returning to a motel with his guy. After all, she broke-off the marriage contract with Beetlejuice in the movie, spared from obscene fate, an X-rated boast.
If even from El Duce– who once sensationally claimed that Courtney Love offered him money to whack Kurt Cobain. Maybe a nugget of some off-color joke “grows with the telling” but watch as everyone attempts to cash in.
Like a dubious character witness, I wouldn’t trust him either as you can’t forget Beetlejuice “selling used cars” at the cemetery lot with the giant lit sign– the giant arrow pointing to “dirt-low” credibility, the rotten truth in all “the fine print”.
A foul trickster, free speech for the dumb as you can’t “outlaw evil”. Keep this movie PG-rated, IF YOU DARE. Or else my name is Jerry Springer. . . . .
Don’t “Shake Hands with SNAKE”
For youthful, fresh perspectives– you can’t go wrong with local community radio as kids have the naivete and faithlessness to declare themselves a punk princess impressio in a doll-house of young, kicking energy for the sake of local interest and avoiding true career callings. Lydia runs along the punk/artistic circles and gleefully drags-along her clique of oddball friends, like “skate-rats”, “hippie-girls”, and street characters as they bicker around themselves and fill in stretches of dialogue in the glittering hang-out of Utopia Studios.
The odd, the strange, the unusual, the transgressive– bands playing and imagery flashing on from a projector “like a real head-trip”. Below is footage of Nirvana playing at a campus studio up at Evergreen State College in Olympia, Washington. You can see ingenious blue-screen tricks and some of what’s in the background is from Haxan, a 1922 Swedish/Danish film that was once narrated by Beat oddball, William S. Burroughs.
An hallucinogenic trip for kids dancing and writhing in the strobe-lights to strange energies as it gives you more of a feel for who Lydia is, or what’s true to her character as you can’t write-down this stuff, necessarily– only watch and appreciate.
Coming to a theater near you, “Beetlejuice 2”!!
(– At least how I see it. . . . .)
Presenting you footage. . . . .
Tangentially related, say– to the musical fancies of one, Lydia Deetz as a bubblegum death-rocker and punk princess whose tastes veer into “the strange & unusual”.
If not, “oppositional”– as you have these ragged, fringe-figures on the concert scene who don’t live on much else, but sneers and street-cred with their terminally broken-down tour van.
This clip is from “Hated”, a documentary about G.G. Allin who put on the craziest, most violent rock shows ever. Dinginess, depression, and heroin-needles hanging, tacked-off one’s veined arm as it’s bleak and angry and hopeless.
I guess you could call it, “having something to say” as this guy would flail-around naked on the microphone, leap out and attack the audience, and otherwise– literally “take a dump” on stage. Bleak this, bleak that– but his albums managed to net a sizable minor following, standing on each others’ heels to get a glimpse of the transgressive and exciting.
You would see “some of the spirit” in the overgrown, rehabbed areas of south St. Louis along the streets with endless chunks of feldspar and classic French city architecture amid skate-parks and sculpture-gardens where girls would walk around in black pantyhose, leather jackets, and mini-skirts with hair dyed jet-black and their skin as pale as a ghost.
(Lydia’s spiritual home-coming)
The punk scene comes with its own brand of marijuana-stoked creativity, putting things together in odd ways, or in reverse, or forwards/backwards like loopy thinking, proud of being “an individual” as it’s edgy and juvenile all at once.
It’s “shock-rock”– openly embracing the boggled, bulgy-eyed, more-grotesque facts-of-life over a communal wall of cigarettes, like a part of “the resistTANCE” and opening up a wide vista of personal and cultural expression as the night is open and the street urchins running loose.
I thought this clip from the introduction was pretty funny– and from G.G. vowing to commit suicide on stage, some day– he eventually overdosed on heroin at a party as everyone kept having a good time, all around him and only figured-out later, he was dead.
I’m “no dead rock-star”, but keep on chuggin’ along as we know you have more fun– not “being dead” and we’ll be back, tomorrow with more educational programming. . . . .
Hello, everybody. . . . .
More antic madness from “The Gong Show” with a parody band known as “Green Jello”– famous for a video-only album of grotesquely bonkers/bogus metal-tunes and the best video-studio effects you could have in the early ’90s with Claymation and foam-rubber monsters. Later forced to change their name to “Green Jelly” because “Jello” is copyrighted by Krafts Foods Inc. But the songs on the “Cereal Killer” album were unchanged– even referring themselves as “Green Jello”.
Otherwise, the lyrics “wouldn’t have rhymed” and they weren’t about to re-record their album, say with overdubs. Just a minor footnote in creative skater/stoner history as their influence is handed down to me, this day– from the age of 12 as that was one of my first metal albums other than cheap $2.99 compilation cassette-tapes at the ole’ clearance and “odd lots, BIG LOTS” store down on the rough side of south St. Louis.
Hey, you get what you pay for. . . . . . and here are two articles full of well-researched trivia and other background information about the original Beetlejuice movie.
You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll hurl– your head will spin with production notes! All in bringing to you the best possibilities, living-up to a Beetlejuice sequel worthwhile.
We’ll be back, three shakes of a lamb’s tail. . . . . . so hold on to your temples and (don’t you hate it when that happens?) and see the world through a work-horse of bloggership, building steam like pistons unto my dream project.
See you in the funny pages.