Very sad to hear about the passing of Zia Records owner Brian Faber, who suffered a brain hemorrhage and stroke over the weekend. If it makes me a loser to admit my youth revolved around the Mill Avenue store (that later moved to University Drive), Roads to Moscow and Tower Records, so be it. Music and tennis were the things that connected me to other people at that oddball time in life, and running into Zia looking for the latest Bananarama, Marilyn or Mari Wilson 12-inch import was like our version of "The Amazing Race," never knowing what you'd come away with. Condolences to the entire Faber and Zia family.
While I was mildly annoyed to learn (via Brian Williams) that Colin Hanks had turned to KickStarter to fund a documentary he wants to make about Tower Records -- KickStarter is for those of us who weren't born with enormous access to the things you have, you idiot -- I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I will be the first person to see "All Things Must Pass: The Rise and Fall of Tower Records" when it finally comes out. (Did you notice a pattern in my movie-going in 2011?) I completely agree with him that Tower Records was so much more than a place to buy music, and I too equate it with so many pivotal moments in my life, like being in awe of my older brother for buying a single of "Dreaming" by Blondie when I was still obsessed with another blonde (named Olivia Newton-John), ditching high school with my friends Tina, Yuki, Deanna and Greg to hang out on Mill Avenue with the cool college kids, flipping through the imports at Tower and Zia Records on a domestic budget and buying the Phil Spector box sex at the Sunset Boulveard store below Spago to help nurse my wounds after getting my wisdom teeth violently ripped from my mouth at the nearby Beverly Sunset Medical Plaza.
Hanks more than reached his fundraising goal, and the video outline of what's in store for the film looks fantastic. See for yourself HERE.
It's difficult to explain what it was like when Sandra Bernhard's debut album, "I'm Your Woman," came out in 1985. It had been a couple of years since she had made her splash in "The King of Comedy," but not a lot of movie roles worthy of her talent followed. In the interim, she appeared in a film that barely saw release, had a half-hour comedy special on Cinemax ("Your New American Actress Friend") and returned to David Letterman -- her 1983 debut still ranks as one of the greatest -- for what would become a legendary series of appearances on the late-night talk show, cementing herself as the country's most idiosyncratic comedy voice. I had just graduated from high school in Arizona and immediately headed back to the motherland to spend the summer with my best friend from sixth grade, Mark, and his cadre of friends in Detroit who had also become my own.
On one of our regular visits to the best record store in town -- Off the Record in Royal Oak -- I was browsing the "B" section looking for Blondie imports when I came across a new LP by none other than Bernhard, Sandra. This was pre-Internet, so I was blown away by what I was seeing, having had no idea it was even coming. The cover depicted her in a bra and lacey bottom holding an electruc guitar (huh?) and the titles sounded like actual songs, so none of us were sure what to make of it. Earning $3.35 an hour, as we did in those days -- and having never heard anything off the album -- made gambling on an $8.99 purchase a bit too risky for this level-headed Michizona boy, so I resisted buying it.
Don't get me wrong -- I desperately wanted to. I mean, just look at those jacket photos! But I didn't have a lot of money saved that summer, and there were Howard Jones tickets to be purchased at Pine Knob, clothes to be bought at Value Village and wine coolers to be paid for at 7-Eleven. "I'm Your Woman" just didn't fit into my frugal life at that moment.
I got back to Arizona in late August and quietly resumed my high school job at the AMC Fiesta Village while trying to figure out what I was going to do with my life now that I was an "adult." Then one afternoon I noticed in the Random Notes section of Rolling Stone that Sandra Bernhard had a cameo in the latest Muppet caper, scheduled for release the following week. As fate would have it, "Follow That Bird" was showing at my cinema, so I went to check it out. (To be honest, I'd have probably gone even if she weren't in it: Kermit the Frog was my journalistic hero growing up and I idolized Grover, not realizing I would one day have his physique.) But sure enough, Sandy's scene as a grouch(y) waitress at a roadside cafe stole the show, so I started sneaking into the film at that exact moment she appeared on-screen each day at work, the perfect escape from shoveling popcorn and hawking $12 boxes of Milk Duds.
A few years later while I was attending Arizona State University, I came across "I'm Your Woman" again at Zia Records in Tempe, which gave Off the Record a run for its money because it too had all the latest imports and used records. It was a promotional copy -- complete with press kit -- and by now I was making eight bucks an hour as a circulation rep at The Arizona Republic and Phoenix Gazette. I quickly snatched it up. The album had come and gone without much notice -- and on first listen, I could kind of figure out why. By then, Sandy had struck comedy gold with her off-Broadway show "Without You I'm Nothing," which my friends Greg, Paul, John and I knew from start to finish. In it, the comedy was the star and the songs were the supporting players. But "I'm Your Woman" was different. The songs were front and center -- original pop songs whose hearfelt lyrics Bernhard co-wrote with the visual artist Rick Maslow -- and the comedy was merely the set up, usually in the form of short, sweet anecdotes about her childhood and family. But unlike her live shows, they were sung in a more conventional -- or should I say, less dramatic -- fashion. I imagine the whole thing completely confused her fans who had grown accustomed to her caustic wit and over-the-top interpretations of pop music's greatest hits. That they just weren't prepared for this gentler, more vulnerable side of Sandy. In retrospect, though, I think anyone would agree it was an ahead-of-its time little gem. There isn't a clunker in this batch of eight tracks. The little monologue before "Near the Top" might be the funniest bit she's ever written -- and the song the most bizarre. And "Boys Come Running" was the song Susanna Hoffs needed to launch her solo career, But the song that always touched me most was "Everybody's Young," about a world of beautiful teenagers that struck me as a response to Jackson Browne's teenage anthem "Somebody's Baby," but from the point of view of the girl he's singing about when she's maybe 10 or 15 years older, and has begun to feel wistful about a youth and innocence that fades all too soon.
You're everybody's baby when you're young ...
Have a listen and tell me what you think. "I'm Your Woman" is long out of print, but I think Sandy sells the CD at her shows. It's definitely worth tracking down.
"Follow That Bird"
I'm not sure this is the correct image for the 7-inch of "Everybody's Young" -- I never had a copy -- but if it is, the photo was discussed when Sandy Linter was a guest on "Sandyland." Linter did the makeup for the shoot, which was done at Tea & Sympathy on Greenwich Avenue.
UPDATE:
Someone found the original video for the song. The quality is very poor, but it will leave you feeling enriched.
It was the first week of 1984 and Newsweek had a Technicolor Boy George and Annie Lennox splashed across the cover proclaiming the second coming of the British Invasion, yet all my sexually confused 16-year-old eyes could see was endless possibilities. He looked like a chick. She looked like a dude, sort of. I specifically remembering staring at the cover while listening to the Eurythmics' haunting song "Jennifer" and feeling completely sick to my stomach thinking, maybe I wasn't the only one who felt this way.
This was the year before I went all Trapper Keepers
Like many gay people growing up during the '80s, the new wave explosion was a welcome escape from the boy-girl society around us, a convenient way to hide our sexuality behind the fashions and styles of the time. (I'm not sure what I'd have done, say, in the '70s or '90s.) And with each passing year someone new came along to push the boundaries. From Visage, Culture Club and Eurythmics to Haysi Fantayzee and Dead or Alive. But of all the artists of that gender-bender era, none garnered my affections the way Marilyn did.
I'll never forget seeing the 12" single of his debut song, "Calling Your Name," in the bin at Zia Records on Mill Avenue in Tempe, Ariz., with his glamorous blond dreadlocks tossed to the side, perfect makeup and his exposed chest. After tearing up the U.K. charts with that one he never had another real hit even in his homeland, so the singles and subsequent album, "Despite Straight Lines," were never even released here in the states. But that didn't stop me from snatching up every new thing he released (my friend Laura Thomas even had the picture disc of "Cry and Be Free" with the rare b-side "Running" on it, which I promptly taped!) and every No. 1 magazine and Smash Hits that he appeared in. (That's him in the bottom lefthand corner of my English folder from Dobson High. Can you name the others?) Was I sexually attracted to Marilyn? No. But I was definitely drawn to him in some strong way. Looking back I think it was his ability to have enough self-confidence to be who he was with no apologies that made me admire him, despite his increasingly obvious lack of musical abilities. (His outsider within the group of outsiders status was certainly something I related to, too.) When Boy George brought the era to life in the show "Taboo"a few years ago it was Marilyn's biting oneliners that stole the show, of course. And every so often I'll dust off my homemade Marilyn CD of everything he ever released (none of which ever made the leap to the digital age officially) and play it with fond memories of the pretty boy who wasn't afraid to be himself.
With thanks to my friend Christopher for jarring my memory by making a Basia joke: Finally got around to procuring Matt Bianco's classic debut, "Whose Side Are You On?," in digital format the other night, and was delighted by how well it's aged over the past 25 years. I remember buying the vinyl at Zia Records in Tempe, Arizona, when I was in high school -- I had heard the single "Get Out of Your Lazy Bed" on the Rock Over London radio show one Sunday night -- and had naively convinced myself that I was into "jazz" by virtue of my obsession with early Everything But the Girl, Sade, Working Week, Swing Out Sister and Paul Weller's experimental Style Council.
As it would turn out, real jazz kind of annoyed me, but "pop jazz" like Matt Bianco -- riding a revival wave in Britain of early-'60s Brazilian pop music, with classic bossa nova structures and loose horns -- was fun, fresh, and just the thing for a pretentious 16-year-old to latch onto, while dreaming of moving to the big city, reading foreign magazines and drinking white wine. (That's what passed for sophistication in 1980s suburban Phoenix -- and probably still does.) I had purchased "The Best of Matt Bianco" CD in the early '90s, but it included many songs recorded after their classic original line-up of Mark Reilly, Danny White and Basia, so didn't really have that magnetic nostalgia I was hoping for. It then apparently fell behind the TV -- literally -- which is where I found it after catching the Matt Bianco bug earlier this week. While Basia (along with Danny White) would go on to a successful solo career -- I liked the "Time and Tide" album a lot, but then quickly lost interest with that "Cruising for Bruising" bullshit, as did she when she stopped recording for 15 years after a few more albums -- it was as a supporting player that she shined brightest, perhaps second only to Jane Wiedlin as someone who is far better as a backup singer. (Let's be honest: You can only take so much of Basia's voice at once.) Unlike the Go-Go's, however, Matt Bianco allowed Basia to sing lead on a couple tracks, but alas that still was not enough to keep her happy. (The original trio temporarily reunited in 2003 -- as Matt Bianco Featuring Basia -- but I never sought out the album it produced, figuring you can't go home again.)
Fall in love with "More Than I Can Bear" (below) -- the band's videos were memorable too, with their beautiful band members and silent-movie and spy-novel themes -- and if you like what you hear, you might just find the full album HERE. (No sign of it on iTunes, I'm afraid, so what can you do?)
Pre-World Wide Web, it wasn't hard to miss stuff. Yet a quarter of a century into life on the internet and I'm still constantly amazed by how much "Kenneth stuff" still misses me. (Blame it on information overload.) So it's only fitting that an '80s new wave band from home town -- whom I'd never heard of despite vociferously collecting albums from the era, including Arizona bands Killer Pussy, Tone Set and Phantom Limbs and Detroit locals Figures on a Beach -- did finally land on my radar via a kind blog reader who grew up near me in Mesa.
From 1985 to 1990, the New Wave band Basic Elements played stages all over greater Phoenix, opening for bands like The Bolshoi, Gene Loves Jezebel, and even early incarnations of Gin Blossoms. In those days, the band members were high school students from the Paradise Valley area, and often, they were politely asked to leave the gigs they had just played.
“We were playing in bars with grown-ass adults and alcohol. We were 15, 16, 17 years old," says Jonathan Goldman, who plays synthesizer in the band. "We would be playing the [Mason] Jar and [owner] Franco [Gagliano] would come and say, ‘You guys gotta go now. We’re going to lose our liquor license.’ So, we would go get high in the back.”
Early MTV and an obsession with Duran Duran's "Hungry Like the Wolf" set the stage for what came next.
“We were going to the ‘gear for guys’ section at Judy’s in Paradise Valley Mall, and wearing our mom’s shoulder pads and eyeliner, asking the girls at London Fog how to do our hair like the Thompson Twins, and in 1984, that meant getting our asses kicked. The lightbulb kind of went off when [bassist William Preston Bowling] and I saw 'Revenge of the Nerds.' We were like, ‘Yeah, we should start a band. That’s how we won’t get our asses kicked.’ It was a survival mechanism,” remembers Goldman.
Thirty-five years after their debut, Basic Elements in October released "Hide," the first of five original songs they recorded with producer Ed Buller (Psychedelic Furs/Pulp)
In addition to Goldman -- whose Twitter profile describes him as "Synth player for the greatest '80s band you’ve never heard of" -- Reardon reports that bassist William Preston Bowling, guitarist David Youseffi, vocalist John Denis and drummer Matt Barton got back together to record the songs in Los Angeles, where Bowling and Goldman now live. The songs were all part of the Basic Elements repertoire during its original five-year incarnation.
Which brings us to 2021, when the band just put out a lyrics video for its latest release, "New You."
I checked in with Goldman to see what projects the band has lined up for 2021 and found out they'd just shipped limited edition cassingles for "New You" to (famed) Zia Records where they will be available exclusively. (The B-side features the original archival recording of the same song.) The band will be on 93.9 FM KWSS (Zoom interview) to promote said cassingles on Feb. 11. And the third single, "Scream 4 Love," will be released on Feb. 12. (Live lyric video will be featured on DJ Jake Rudh’s Twitch on Feb. 13.) He said they hope to play live again in the near future -- perhaps in Arizona in the fall.
And below, check out two versions of the band's previous single, "Hide," one from the 1985 Arizona State Fair and the spruced-up 2020 version:
Basic Elements performed “Hide” at the Shadow Mountain High School talent show in 1985, where three of the young men attended. (They opened with a cover of U2's "New Year's Day" to soften the crowd.)
From the lass's third album -- which I had to get on import at Zia Records -- "Catch as Catch Can." This song's been stuck in my head since the beginning of 11th grade. Mainly posting to see if my friend Greg is reading as I know he's the only other person who would fully appreciate! (I bought the Cherry Pop reissue in 2009, natch!)
While I'd like to say that the books that had the most profound effect on me in high school were of the historical variety, or the classics -- a little Dickens, Steinbeck or Twain -- the truth of the matter is nothing from the world of publishing captivated, or should I say consumed me quite the way the "Rock Yearbook" series did. Published each fall between 1980 and 1988 by St. Martin’s Press, this pop music year-in-review WAS my bible, only I didn't have to wait 400 years between installments. Each yearbook was divided into sections, featuring the Acts of the Year -- Kim Wilde, Haircut 100, Joan Jett and the Go-Go's made the list in '83, need I say more? -- plus the Quotes of the Year, Best and Worst Album Covers, and the snarky "Thanks ... but No Thanks" section. The record reviews -- dished out with a healthy dose of attitude from critics at British rock rags New Musical Express, Melody Maker, Record Mirror and Smash Hits -- were utterly hilarious:
Howard Jones’ Humans Lib: “I can think only of a kid who’s been given a Rolf Harris Stylophone for Christmas and thinks he’s Gandhi.” -- Melody Maker
Roxy Music’s Avalon: “What does it all mean? I haven’t the faintest fucking idea.” -- NME
Spandau Ballet’s Diamond: “Not so much pretentious as unlistenable. At least we can all stop pretending to hate Spandaus and start really hating them.” -- Sounds
But the week-by-week singles and album charts -- U.S. ANDU.K. editions!!!! -- were THE BEST, read so often by me and my friend Greg -- in lieu of homework -- that we can still tell you where Kim Wilde's "Cambodia" peaked back in '82 (a rather disappointing No. 12).
While lacking any sense of cool of my own, it was in the pages of these yearbooks that I could anticipate what was coming our way next via the British Invasion, giving myself a minor edge in the cut-throat New Wave scene at Dobson High School. There were countless discoveries -- Bucks Fizz, Stephen "Tin Tin" Duffy, Haysi Fantayzee and Scritti Politti pop into my head -- but the band that captivated me most on the pages of the Rock Yearbook was one that never landed on the American radar -- not even a late-night video on MTV, as far as I can recall -- the British group Japan.
Still, the moment I saw the band's "Tin Drum" album sleeve in the Best Album Covers section, featuring singer David Sylvian with his fluffy bleach-blond bangs and big round eyeglasses, eating rice from a bowl in a stark room, while a peeling poster of Chairman Mao looked on from the corner, I knew I'd found my new favorite band. (KajaWhoWho???) Having seen all the pictures of the band -- looking very New Romantic, only WAY cooler than Duran Duran (Nick Rhodes, what a David Sylvian wannabe!) and Spandau Ballet who'd both become way too popular in America, I smugly thought to myself -- I felt like I already knew what they sounded like. So when I finally got my hands on a very expensive import copy of "Tin Drum" down at Zia Records on Mill Avenue, actually listening to their music was merely a formality. So on to my Price Club Yorx stereo the record went, and out came these bizarre-sounding instruments and even weirder vocals. Although I was somewhat mortified (had I really just spent 20 bucks on THIS???) I was determined to like it -- they're COOL, damn it! -- so I forged ahead, finishing side one and flipping it over to side two. But even when it was over -- a rather compact eight songs -- I honestly wasn't entirely sure the vinyl hadn't gotten warped on the 112-degree ride home from Tempe. I played it a few more times, but I was still pretty sure it was damaged somehow. I eventually set the album to the side for a while -- I still LOOKED cool for owning it, right? -- but later found I couldn't get one particularly odd song, "Still Life in Mobile Homes," out of my head. Plant life My life Still life in mobile homes
So I kept listening to the album again and again, telling myself that it was supposed to sound like that.
As I became more convinced, I stumbled upon a used 12-inch single of the band's cover of "All Tomorrow's Parties" by the Velvet Underground, and snatched it up. The arrangement was straightforward and easy to like, and the b-sides, live versions of "Deviation" and "Obscure Alternatives," were surprisingly good, too. I wanted to know more. Having read about the band's 1982 single with Giorgio Moroder, "Life in Tokyo," in the Rock Yearbook, I decided to buy their compilation album, "Assemblage," next. It featured songs from their early days -- now I was learning they used to be GLAM rockers before New Romantics! -- plus some rare singles, including "Life in Tokyo" and "I Second That Emotion." Little by little, I was getting hooked, foregoing my Limahl and Howard Jones' love child image for a more sophisticated David Sylvian look, complete with Asian gal pal.
And while the Roxy Music-influenced "Gentlemen Take Polaroids" -- another Best Album Cover and wonderfully pretentious title! -- became another favorite, my love for later purchases of "Adolescent Sex," "Obscure Alternatives" and "Quiet Life" had me wondering if critics who dismiss their early glam period for their more polished synth days aren't a little off-base. Sure, "The Art of Parties" and "Ghosts" are great, but can they really stand up to the snotty punk delivery of "Automatic Gun" or Caribbean cool of "Rhodesia"?
It's been more than 25 years since I discovered the music of Japan, and even now my opinion continues to fluctuate. (Pretentious idiots or gifted artists?) I still have the CDs to help me decide, but sadly my Rock Yearbooks didn't survive my last move. They had a few of them for sale at last year's WFMU Record Fair, but I was in "downsizing" mode at the time, so didn't buy any of them. I see the 2009 fair is next month, and you can be sure I will be there scouring the piles of books, looking for one of the classics. (Hat tip to Jon Cummings at Pop Dose, who wrote a great piece about the Rock Yearbooks in 2008 over HERE.)
UPDATE:
Decades later I finally got the 1981 edition, which was rife with Blondie, but somehow it wasn't the same.
I remember how excited I was back in high school when I found Mari Wilson's new 12-inch single at Zia Records, back when it was on Mill Avenue in Tempe, Arizona. I was still in high school, but my friend Greg and I would head over to the campus of Arizona State -- where all the cool kids were -- every chance we got, always looking for the latest imports from our favorite acts, from Bananarama and Marilyn to the Style Council and Mari. I already owned Japan's cover of "Ain't That Peculiar," which I knew from the radio as old Marvin Gaye song. But Mari's version instantly became my favorite, and the two b-sides -- "Use Him" and "The Maximum Damage" -- quickly became faves as well. Greg and I were heartbroken, though, when the album from which we expected them to come never materialized. (Never knew where she went.) Fortunately, Mari resurfaced in 1991, and finally released her follow-up to her classic "Showpeople" -- and she's been busy recording and touring ever since. These days, Mari even has a Facebook page, which you can like right HERE!
My devotion to the Queen of the Beehives is well-documented. ("Just What I Always Wanted" was without question the most delightful single of the 1980s!) But as was the case with the recent Blondie box set, I can only be so excited about the upcoming Mari Wilson collection, which feels at least 20 years late. Set for release on Nov. 25, Cherry Red's "Mari Wilson: The Neasden Queen of Soul, 3CD Box Set" brings together Mari's best-loved material from her time signed to the Compact Organization spanning her classic debut, "Showpeople," and 10 single releases over the period of 1980-85.
According to the label, the set features a 24-page booklet with sleeve notes written by Mari and a U.K. discography, together with previously unseen photos. The newly designed front cover uses an iconic photograph taken by Adrian Boot.
CD 1 is centered around the 12-track debut album "Showpeople," originally released in 1983 plus four bonus tracks: the 12” mixes of the singles "Just What I Always Wanted" her 1982 top 10 hit, "Cry Me a River" a top 30 hit in 1983, "Baby It’s True" and the soul classic "Ain’t That Peculiar," the latter two of which for the first time on CD.
CD 2 features the single versions of eight A-sides, nine B-sides and five rarities, including seven non-album singles, "Love Man," "Dance Card," "Beat the Beat," "Baby It’s True," "Ain’t That Peculiar," "Let’s Make This Last" and the theme tune to the 1985 film "Dance With a Stranger": "Would You Dance With a Stranger?"
CD 3 includes eight new remixes by the original writer/producer Tot Taylor, ably assisted by Joe Dworniak using the original multi-track tapes. Tracks remixed include the A-sides "Beat the Beat" and "Baby It’s True" plus the B-sides "Glamourpuss," "Ecstasy," "Rave," "She’s Had Enough of You" and "You Look So Good."
I already own nearly everything here, save for a remix or two I'm not particularly keen to acquire. But as with Blondie's "Against the Odds," the release may add the classic Mari catalog to streaming services, which will be handy for me, and perhaps, perhaps, perhaps help expose new people to her wonderful brand of music.
Today's SOTD was the B-side to her cover of "Ain't That Peculiar," which I purchased in high school at the original Zia Records in Tempe when it was on Mill Avenue, a stone's throw from Roads to Moscow. Although Mari's cover of the classic Marvin Gaye song was a winner, I always thought the less-obvious "The Maximum Damage" had hit potential of its own. Enjoy!
UPDATE: Video was removed, so replacing with the other b-side called "Use Him," which was also a delight!
Although my parents now live halfway between Phoenix and Tucson, I did manage to spend a little time around my former college campus while attending the Festival of Lights parade, which featured my adorable niece, Ally, as a fairy princess. Tempe's Mill Avenue is kind of my Arizona equivalent of Chelsea's 8th Avenue, as both were once the major drag of a fun part of town before rising rents and gentrification chipped away at their identities.
Mill Avenue is where my friends Greg, Yuki, Tina, Deanna and I would ditch high school to visit, spending the day in thrift stores and record shops. (Although our lives were anything but a John Hughes film, I do recall that we may have spontaneously started to walk like Madness down the avenue once!) I've written about the demise of the boulevard of many new wave dreams before, but this time I managed to retrace my youthful steps to locate some of the former stores that once housed the Valley's coolest spots.
414 S. Mill Ave.
The Mill Avenue Shops was once the home of Roads to Moscow, the punk/new wave record store where my mom haggled with a mohawked clerk to procure a promotional light box for Debbie Harry's "Koo Koo" LP for a Christmas present for me in 1983
(It was my favorite gift ever!)
and I snagged my Killer Pussy "Teenage Enema Nurses In Bondage" EP.
Back in the day
1981
I still have my extensive collection of pins and badges!
It was also the home to the travel agency where I bought my first tickets abroad -- a trip to London with my friend Kristen followed by attending the 1987 French Open in Paris.
420 S. Mill Ave.
I'm pretty sure this Starbucks is where the original Zia Record Exchange was. (Clearly the building was demolished and rebuilt from the ground up.) My friend Greg and I would enter the store then divide and conquer -- trying to snatch up the latest import 12-inch singles from Bananarama, Mari Wilson, Kim Wilde, New Order, Depeche Mode, Marilyn and the like.
(There used to be a Lotions and Potions next door and, believe it or not, it seems to still be in the building, albeit slightly north! I'm told the store has bounced around over the years, but is proudly the oldest on Mill Avenue having opened in 1969!)
The original Zia location at 420 S. Mill Ave.
The store later moved south to 105 W. University Drive during the CD heyday, and has apparently since moved again to Mill and Broadway, which I've yet to visit. (Founder Brad Singer died in 1998. Later owner Brian Faber died in September.)
414 S. Mill Ave.
My sister and my nephew (AJ) entered a candy store on Mill that I immediately recognized as the Changing Hands Bookstore -- only it seemed smaller. Sure enough, a Google search revealed that the space along with 4 One 4 pizza next door made up the superb bookstore -- it was the staircase inside Candy Addict that gave it away! -- where I landed a used copy of "The Joy of Gay Sex" back in 1988 with my friend Greg plus Mark, Brad and JR who were in town to surprise me for my 21st birthday. (I remember being ashamed that I was getting turned on my drawings in the manual!)
Just north of the Changing Hands was the home of the Spaghetti Factory, where my family would frequently go for empty carbs and free spumoni on special occasions.
414 S. Mill Ave.
The Spaghetti Company back in the day. When I got older I discovered there was a music venue upstairs called Edcels Attic.
411 S. Mill Ave., Suite 201
What now is School of Rock was next door to where Graffiti's nightclub was, which I've noted is where I was (with my friend Chantal) the night we found out Andy Warhol had died.
Me outside Graffiti's in mid-1980s
411 S. Mill Ave., Suite 102
(It was later called Club Bongo and my sister says she thinks it -- or the space next door -- was known as 411 Club long after I'd left town.)
My friends and I went to Graffiti's because we were new wave, NOT gay!
John McCain's congressional office is seen in the building on the left of Graffiti's, circa 1985. To the right was Van Döekker's restaurant, which later became the fire-prone Stan's Metro Deli.
680 S. Mill Ave.
The famed Coffee Plantation, which was truly ahead of its time, is now a Five Guys (sigh). I used to spend hours in there studying and checking out all the hot Arizona State guys.
My friend Debra held poetry readings there, which was the artsiest thing I'd ever seen up until that point!
The Mill Avenue location was the first.
680 S. Mill Ave., Suite 101
It opened when I was in college in 1989 and closed on May 30, 2009.
509 S. Mill Ave.
About the only thing left from my heyday -- save for a Native American bookstore that I rarely set foot in -- is the Valley Art cinema, where I saw "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" with my brother Bill and my best-friend-turned-tormenter Jim back in ninth grade, and where I fell in love with indie films.
The Valley Art in 1983
701 S. Mill Ave.
And sadly, even Long Wong's is long gone. In 2015, New Times remembered the venue as the former epicenter of the Tempe scene during its glory years and the nucleus of an interconnected network of musicians, clubs, and fans. An esteemed institution that hummed with live music nightly for 16 years straight, it’s where bands wanted to be seen and heard. Although the Gin Blossoms will forever be linked to the place, they weren’t the only ones that made its tiny stage their home. The list of those who were featured at Wong’s is nearly endless: The Beat Angels. Zen Lunatics. The Pistoleros. The Refreshments. Busted Hearts. Gloritone. Revenants. Trophy Husbands. Flathead. Even the late Elvis “The Cat” Delmonte, an entertainingly eccentric artist, even got stage time. Long Wong’s ultimately was a barometer of Tempe’s music scene, rising in prominence and importance as interest in its brand of rock and pop did the same. Its closure in 2004 came as a blow and surprise to many, even after the spotlight on Mill had long since faded. And though Long Wong’s was demolished to reportedly make way for future development along Mill, its plot has remained vacant ever since, serving as an occasional parking lot and a gaping reminder of what was.
Fun fact: Before it was Long Wong's, 701 S. Mill Ave. was home to the Salad Bar, an earthy chain of "health" restaurants. (It seemed to be riding the wave of Annie Hall's move to Los Angeles!)
Of course there was also a roller skate shop in the building!
Although I count my employment at the AMC Fiesta Village as my first job, technically I washed dishes for a few weeks at the Salad Bar location in Mesa, where much to my sheltered surprise the staff all did drugs and invited me to go dancing at Hotbod's Desert Dance Palace (aka Hotbods), which I later learned was the Valley's answer to Studio 54! (I stupidly declined, in horror, but in my defense I was 16 or 17.)
721 S. Mill Ave.
On the upside: The Jack-in-the-Box where my friend Mary and I were known in the 1980s to seek 99-cent tacos at all hours of the night is still alive and well!
9 E. 5th St.
Forgot to photograph the former homes of Panic City!, Q & Brew, Stan's Metro Deli and Tower Records.
While it's true that people tend to view the past through rose-colored glasses, there's no denying that Mill Avenue isn't quite what it used to be -- which for me was like a real-life version of the Fisher-Price Village I got for Christmas in 1973.
RIP: Panic City founder Tom Frank died in 2021. Read his obituary HERE.
UPDATE in 2023:
Here are some photos of a few more Tempe favorites from the past:
310 S. Mill Ave.
I can't remember her name, but I owe my life to the woman at Rumors Hair Salon who finally rid me of my "new wave" hair at the end of 1987! She worked primarily in the salon's North Scottsdale studio, so I would drive up there if I needed a cut and her Tempe appointments were already booked for the one day a week she was by ASU. (I got my first hot boyfriend shortly thereafter LOL!)
618 S. Mill Ave.
This is the Q & Brew I knew and loved. Although this location is ancient history, apparently there's a new one at 3400 S. Mill Ave. #348
607 S. Mill Ave.
Here are the Tempe Daily News (1887-2009) and Pennysaver in better days(!)
821 S. Mill Ave.
The original Tower Records (and later Video) on the southeast corner of Mill and University where my brother Terence bought Blondie's "Dreaming" single back in 1979! (The store later moved across the parking lot, but it was the first one where I spent hours upon hours of my youth sorting through the stacks and studying the Top 40 singles, which they stocked and arranged each week.)
411 S. Mill Ave., Suite 103
Stan's Metro Deli in the pre-fire Petersen Building
414 S. Mill Ave.
My beloved Changing Hands Bookstore. Apparently before my time it had been located at 9 E. 5th St. -- which I knew as Panic City -- and these days can be found at 6428 S McClintock Drive.
Roads to Moscow fliers. The store was in the Mill Avenue Shops from Sept. 1, 1978 until April 30, 1984
Owner Steve McColgan behind the counter at Roads to Moscow
1985 magazine ad
Marlene Healey at Chaos, which was inside the store
608 S. Mill Ave.
And then Roads to Moscow relocated to a bigger space on Mill south of 6th Street, from May 1, 1984 until Sept. 1, 1987. At its peak, Roads also had stores in Phoenix, Scottsdale and Tucson.
404 S. Mill Ave.
We would go to Balboa Cafe when we were feeling fancy
This is also where the Hayden Square Amphitheater was, which hosted live shows. I'm told that the likes of They Might Be Giants, Pixies, Soul Asylum, Pretenders and Garbage appeared there after I moved to Los Angeles!
401 S. Mill Ave.
... or the Paradise Bar & Grill
640 S. Mill Ave.
One of the first attempts at "going corporate" came around 1987-89, with Z Gallerie moving in. Although it was a chain, my friends and I loved the place, dreaming of furnishing our apartments with the store's over-the-top chaise lounges and framed artwork!
I believe they moved into a bigger showroom (740 S. Mill Ave.) after I moved to Los Angeles, and stayed in business for a number of years. (As for 2023 it's a Mellow Mushroom pizzeria.)
Buffalo Exchange, where I got some of my best mod "looks"(!)
514 S. Mill Ave.
And no visit to Downtown Tempe would be complete without a visit to its most famous headshop, Happy Trails (for You) -- later shortened to Trails -- which always had the best rock posters and T-shirts!
Turns out Nicholas Holthaus and Chris Valentine released a documentary about this very subject in 2008, "Mill Avenue Inc.," which already seems kind of quaint now that even a misguided attempt at corporatization has largely gone bust (The Gap, Ruby Tuesday, Barnes & Noble, Hooters, Pizzeria Uno, Bath & Body Works and Chili's have all come and gone.). Still worth a watch, though, for its great footage and interviews, including Gayle Shanks (owner of Changing Hands Bookstore), Kimber Lanning (owner of Stinkweeds Records) and Megan Irwin (reporter for the Phoenix New Times).
With Superbowl Sunday upon us, I figured there was no better time to get this cut-throat game going. I'm sure I forgot someone --...
Fake Jan Alert
My blog is featured in Susan Olsen's tell-all about the ill-fated "Brady Bunch Variety Hour"!
Little Kenny
Growing up in Madison Heights, Mich.
Back to the Old House
The Web leads to an unexpected return to a house I grew up in.
Oceans 11
Carlsbad, Calif. (2008)
1983
Go Behind the Music of my high-school band, A La Plage
A Death in the Family
Little Larry left us too soon.
Once I Had a Love
With Debbie Harry
'Jungle' Fever
With Robert Buckley
Roger & Me
With Roger Federer
Step Brother McMullen
With Ed Burns
Headline News
With Thomas Roberts
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