Sunday, December 22, 2013

2013: F-U-C-K Y-O-U!! The Passing of Al Goldstein, Mandela, Lou Reed, etc.

I did not post anything with respect to the deaths of Nelson Mandela and Lou Reed, largely because of my life being totally consumed by lawyer-work obligations.  Things have freed up a bit so now I can memorialize my thoughts about Al Goldstein's passing.  (Maybe I post something about Mandela and Reed, maybe not.  I don't know).

Brother Al probably knew next to nothing about music generally and thrash even less so. Nevertheless he was a BIG aesthetic influence on both Falafel and my prog-rock band Ricky Methylene Blue.  Goldstein was uber-New York, absurd, dirty, angry and funny, with occasional brilliance, both intended and accidentally. Wearing my RMB hat, he was so fucking Lincoln.  And he was the Spinal Tap of pornographers.

There was nothing like his show Midnight Blue and the void that his show filled opened deep and wide once it went off the air.  However, I somehow thought that Goldstein would somehow emerge from the bizarre shithole he ended up in as a result of his divorce with the "Irish cleaning lady" as he called one of his ex-wives, and start up at least a YouTube version of Midnight B.  It never happened.

Al's show served up his very (proudly) New York Jew rantings, complete with ample helpings of profanity and teenage bathroom humor and used tits and ass to lure you in.  The porn stars were there just to suck you in but his show was perhaps one of the most unsexy things on TV.  But it was so fucking funny.  Somehow he was able to issue fuck you fatwas effortlessly to both Guiliani and the attendant at his parking garage in the same sentence and maintain some sense of sense (or at least interest).  Much of the content his rants could be done by the brother-in-law you avoid at family gatherings, but Al was the perfect Friday night must-see (or at least watch on Monday night) TV show for when you wanted to chill with the Falafel trifecta of a few bowls, some smokes, booze.  Unfortunately, he wasn't friendly for chick company.  (Oh well, no one is perfect, but neither is thrash).

But like most performers, he was not quiet like his TV persona.  I met Al randomly in 1994 while I was walking home from my office.  He lived on 63rd or 64th Street and I lived on 66th Street.  Dressed in my navy Armani, I was heading up Second Avenue and saw a very fat man about a block away.  Al was lovingly eyeing up a window display in the Duane-Reade of all places.  I thought to myself "that's one really fat dude...wait that's Al Goldstein."

I thought for a second or two whether to introduce myself.  I was never shy with the rich and famous (except in the case of Robert Fripp), but I know fame can be a hassle at times.  However, I figured why not and went up to him..."Mr. Goldstein/"  I extend my hand.  He sheepishly shakes it.  "I really enjoy your show.  It's great.  Please keep it coming."

He responded, with a seemingly genuine modesty, "oh...oh thank you.  Thank you."  He seemed truly touched that someone was actually watching his show and not only didn't want to spit in his face but actually liked the show. Certainly not I expected.  I wished him good evening and went on my way.

I heard from another lawyer I knew from law school that she -- a Jewish woman -- interviewed Al Goldstein for her college radio show and loved him.  She said that she was truly surprised of how kind and modest he was.  She went into the interview expecting to hate him.  "I was expecting a pig" I recall her putting it.  She said that he was not only a gentleman but very naturally sweet and earnest.

I'm gonna post a video remix of Al G to Falafel "Peep Show Man" in the coming weeks.

To Al Goldstein, a lovingly ironic, "Fuck You."




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