M.A. Littler
(A taped and transcribed conversation)
Upon flying in from the old world and a three and a half hour Greyhound journey I checked into the "Massad Hotel" on E. Main & 4th.
I hadn't been in town for a year but it didn't seem like anything had changed…I liked that.
Charlie, the night manager, an old acquaintance by now, handed me my room key and I took the old elevator up to the fourth floor.
I showered, undressed, had myself half a six pack of stout, then got tired and went to bed.
At 4.17 a.m. I was rudely awoken by a flock of demented seagulls screaming bloody murder outside my window.
Now 4.17 ain't no time to rise and it's definitely no time to shine…but fuck it…I got dressed and went next door to the 4th Street Café.
The beautiful thing about this particular grease spot, apart from the Skid Row regulars that have always frequented my films and writing is the music that's playing in the joint.
Big Dave, also known as "Davio", the owner of the 4th Street Cafe doesn't give a rat's ass about what's playing so the waitresses and cooks pick the tunes and they vary…
On different occasions I've heard Hank Williams, Richard Hell & The Voidoids, Shostakovich, Bill Monroe, The Clash, Lydia Lunch, The Einstuerzende Neubauten, Bob Dylan, Tom Waits, John Spencer…you get the picture…it's an eclectic spectrum.
This morning it was the Ramone's "Road to Ruin"… now 'ats not bad at 4.30 in the morning.
However let me get down to the meat of this piece:
The old television set above the counter was tuned into CNN and I was spoon-fed the morning's headlines:
An aging magician had been attacked by a giant albino cat and an Austrian muscle man was supposed to rescue California…I was and am still hoping for the return of the great flood.
A gentleman, in his late forties, appropriately pronounced: "The world's on fire…and we're out of water."
The jet lag was coming on strong, my stomach was turning sour and the ancient cigarette machine was apparently out of order…
Eventually my corned beef hash and coffee arrived and simultaneously Jim, an old acquaintance and collaborator of mine appeared out of the blue.
He told me he hadn't slept in a while and I was looking forward to shooting the shit with him, so I offered him a seat.
It's important to know that I carry with me at all times three things:
A notebook.
A tape recorder.
And a knife.
Halfway into our conversation I decided it might be worth getting out my tape recorder and so I taped the following fragments:
JIM
(LOOKING AT THE TV)
I STRONGLY ADVISE EVERYONE NOT TO SWITCH ON THE TV…
LET ME TELL YOU WHAT'S BRINGIN' THIS COUNTRY DOWN MY FRIEND…ASSIMILATION…A COUNTRY'S HEADIN' FOR DISASTER IF IT THINKS IT CAN MAKE EVERY MAN THE SAME…I SAY LET THE IRISHMAN BE AN IRISHMAN AND LET THE ITALIAN REMAIN ITALIAN…A MAN NEEDS MORE THAN SHOPPING MALLS AND ALL THAT SHIT…A MAN NEEDS AN IDENTITY…
WRITER
I JUST GOT BACK LAST NIGHT…AND I ALREADY FEEL LIKE I'M LOOKING INTO A FUNHOUSE MIRROR…EVERYTHING SEEMS OFF…YOU KNOW… SOMEHOW DISTORTED…
JIM
…THIS COUNTRY'S MISERY IS EXEMPLIFIED BY WHAT HAPPENED TO THE UNDERGROUND…
WRITER
COME AGAIN…?
JIM
…MUSIC…FILM…LITERATURE…THE SAME THING HAPPENED TO ALL OF IT…WHENEVER THE REBEL'S GROW QUIET OR ARE OFFERED HIDEOUS AMOUNTS OF MONEY TO GO ABOVE GROUND AND ALTERNATIVE WAYS OF THINKING ARE WATERED DOWN BY CORPORATIONS WHO LABEL THEM "INDEPENDENT", "ALTERNATIVE" AND ALL THAT SHIT…SOEMTHIN'S ROTTING IN DENMARK…
WRITER
…ON THE PLANE, I WAS RE-READING AN OLD POETRY MAGAZINE FROM THE EARLY SEVENTIES…MAN THE SHIT THAT'S COMING OUT AT THE MOMENT IS A SAD FUCKIN' EXCUSE IN COMPARISON TO SOME OF THE WORK THAT CAME OUT BACK THEN…THE SAME THING RINGS TRUE FOR FILM AND MUSIC…
JIM
…I DECLARE THE DEATH OF THE UNDERGROUND…
WRITER
…YOU DON'T HAVE TO DECLARE IT…IT'S BEEN DEAD FOR A WHILE…IT'S BEGUN TO SMELL…
JIM
…MAN I USED TO TAKE THE TRUCK AND HEAD TO NEW YORK FOR A DAY OR TWO AND AT ANY GIVEN TIME OF DAY OR NIGHT I'D SEE SOME WICKED BAND PLAYIN' AT CB'S OR MAX'S…NOW IT'S LIKE LOOKIN' FOR THE FUCKIN' NEEDLE IN A HAYSTACK…WHERE'S THE MUSIC AND FILM FOR THE REAL MAN…I MEAN I DON'T WANT TO GET ALL NOSTALGIC AND PRETEND EVERYTHING WAS BETTER IN THE OLD DAYS…IT WASN'T…BUT I MEAN THE QUESTION MUST BE ALLOWED…WHERE'S THE DARING SHIT…?
WRITER
IT'S NOT JUST THE VENUES AND MEDIA, JIM…THE UNDERGROUND FESTIVAL I ORGANIZED I HAD TO SHUT DOWN 'CAUSE ALL THE FLICS I GOT WERE ALL THE SAME…THERE WAS NO INDIVIDUAL VOICE…IT'S LIKE YOU'VE SAID…ASSIMILATION…GENTRIFICATION…I LIVE IN EUROPE AND IT'S THE SAME OVER THERE…EVERYONE SCREAMS UNDERGROUND BUT THEY AIN'T GOT THE WORK TO BACK IT UP…
JIM
…SUPPOSEDLY WE LIVE IN THE FREEST PERIOD IN HISTORY…NOW I DON'T SEE HOW THAT FREEDOM IS BEING PUT TO USE…I JUST SEE A LOT OF DRIVEL…AND NO BALLS…I SEE TEENY BOPPERS CALL 'EMSELVES "UNDERGROUND" AND THOSE THAT HELD UP THE FLAG FOR SO LONG WENT TO BED WITH THE CORPORATIONS…NOW I KNOW A MAN'S GOTTA LIVE…PAY RENT AND ALL…BUT DISPLAY SOME FUCKIN' DIGNITY…
WRITER
…YEAH WELL…NOW YOU GOT MORE POSSIBILITIES TO GO PUBLIC WITH YOUR WORK THAN EVER…BUT THAT DOESN'T SEEM TO INCREASE THE QUALITY OF WORK THAT COMES OUT…IT'S QUITE THE OPPOSITE I'D SAY…
JIM
…MAYBE IT'S THE SAME AS WITH KIDS…YOU ALLOW 'EM TO DO SOMETHIN' THEY LOOSE INTEREST IN IT…SO MAYBE THE LACK OF RESTRICTION HAS MADE IT LESS INTRIGUING TO RATTLE AND RAGE…
The waitress appears and re-fills our cups.
WRITER
…I'M NOT SAYING THAT ALL IS SHIT NOW…BUT THERE DEFINITELY SEEMS TO BE LESS GOOD WORK OUT THERE…THE BLOKE WHO GRITS HIS TEETH…DOES HIS DAYTIME JOB AND PLAYS RAW PUNK ROCK IS DYING OUT…
JIM
…'CAUSE THERE'S MONEY IN IT THESE DAYS…OR THERE CAN BE…
WRITER
…WHICH NEEDN'T NECESSARILY BE A BAD THING…AS YOU SAID EVERYONE'S GOTTA MAKE A LIVING…IT WOULD JUST BE GOOD TO SEE FOLKS MAKIN' A LIVING BY STAYIN' REAL…
JIM
…NOW I KNOW IT AIN'T ALL BAD…THERE'S STILL A FEW BLOKES OUT THERE WHO DO IT THEIR WAY…
WRITER
TOM WAITS DOES IT HIS WAY…AND HE MAKES A GOOD LIVING…
JIM
YEAH…AND SOME OTHERS…EVEN HERE IN TOWN…
WRITER
BUT THEY'RE ALL PISS POOR…
JIM
WELL YEAH…
WRITER
WHAT ARE YOU WORKING ON AT THE MOMENT…?
JIM
I MADE A NEW FILM AND I'M WRITING ANOTHER FEATURE…HOW ABOUT YOURSELF…
WRITER
I FINISHED THE FOLLOW-UP TO "BABYLON WASTELAND"…I'M TRYING TO GET IT PRINTED…AND I'M EDITING MY LAST FILM…I'VE ENTERED THE 21ST CENTURY…GOT A COMPUTER AND ALL…
JIM
THAT'S MIND BENDING…YOU GOT YOURSELF A COMPUTER…?
WRITER
I DID INDEED…
JIM
HOW YOU LIKE IT…?
WRITER
FUCK JIM…IT'S A TOOL…I AIN'T GOT AN EROTIC RELATIONSHIP WITH IT…THE WAY I LOOK AT IT…YOU WANT TO PUT A NAIL IN A WALL YOU NEED A HAMMER…IT'S THE SAME WITH THE COMPUTER…NOTHING MORE…NOTHING LESS…
JIM
I STILL WRITE BY HAND, THEN DICTATE IT INTO A TAPE RECORDER LIKE THE ONE HERE ON THE TABLE…AND MY WIFE TYPES IT UP…
WRITER
…LIKE MARK TWAIN…
JIM
EXACTLY.
WRITER
I WAS TELLING PEOPLE OVERSEAS ABOUT OUR COLLABORATIONS…HOW WE LOAD UP YOUR TRUCK WITH GEAR AND HOW WE'VE MADE THE TWO FILMS TOGETHER…
JIM
WITH A 20 DOLLAR LIGHTING PACKAGE…
WRITER
YEAH…I ALWAYS SAY IT'S KINDA LIKE GOIN' TO WAR ARMED WITH NOTHING BUT A SHOVEL…THEY DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO MAKE OF THAT…
JIM
I LIKE THAT COMPARISON…
WRITER
WELL…
JIM
IT'S TRUE THOUGH…IF YOU KNOW THE CRAFT…IF YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOIN' YOU CAN MAKE GOOD SHIT OUT OF NEXT TO NOTHING…YOU CAN MAKE A GOOD MEAL OUT OF POTATOES AND CANNED BEANS…IT DOESN'T TAKE MUCH…I'VE ALWAYS HAD THAT PUNK ROCK PHILOSOPHY…
WRITER
…AND YOU YOU'VE COME A LONG WAY WITH IT…
JIM
…YOU MAKE IT SOUND MUCH BETTER THAN IT IS…BUT YEAH…SHARE RESOURCES AND JOIN FORCES AND YOU CAN ACCOMPLISH SOME CRAZY SHIT…OUTSIDE OF THE CORPORATE WORLD…AND WE STILL SHOOT ON FILM…
WRITER
WELL THAT'S ANOTHER ISSUE ALL TOGETHER…EVERYWHERE I GO, I HEAR "MAN SHOOT VIDEO…"…FUCK THAT…
JIM
…IT WAS GREAT…I SAW A KID THE OTHER DAY…20 OR SO…BUY AN OLD 16MM CAMERA AND I JUST THOUGHT "ONE MORE MAN SAVED FROM VIDEO"…I GOT A KICK OUT OF THAT…
WRITER
…WELL TO A CERTAIN EXTENT THINGS HAVE BECOME EASIER TODAY…AND I THINK THAT MIGHT NOT ALWAYS BE CONDUCIVE TO GOOD WORK…I BELIEVE A CERTAIN AMOUNT OF STRUGGLE IS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY…
The conversation went on, however the tape recorder ran out and so the rest of the conversation was lost…but for all those longing for the old days…it's like the English band "The Flaming Stars" have said: "…they're closing down the last good place in town…the same thing happens all around…they'll board it up, change the name or tear it down…".
At the risk of sounding preachy, I say…fuck it…don't bitch and complain 'bout better days like we did that morning at the 4th Street Cafe…pick up pen and paper…buy a camera…buy a bunch of canvases, oil paint and brushes…pick up an old electric guitar and a beat up amp…open new clubs…occupy old buildings that no one wants…build a stage…there ain't nothing else to be done in this here world…so rattle and rage.
November 2003
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