Showing posts with label Crime. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Crime. Show all posts

Sunday, October 28, 2018

Johnny Strike (#5): Beyond the Great Beyond.

R.I.P Johnny Strike (June 6, 1948 – September 10, 2018).

KQED

The Guardian

Please Kill Me

RealityStudio

...& more writing about the man to come.


Sunday, January 1, 2017

Johnny Strike (#4): Don't Be A Stranger.


  Johnny Strike at the Saint Francis Hotel in San Francisco (May 23, 2010).

Rock 'n' roll novelist Johnny Strike has a new release: a noir-inspired, mystery-thriller called Name of the Stranger (Bold Venture, 2016). It's his latest, literary venture, since his quasi-autobiographical/fantastical eBook The Exploding Memoir came out – the cover of which shows him in his San Francisco punk rock days, when he was co-fronting the band CRIME.

Speaking of which...CRIME is the subject of a (split) cover story in the latest issue of Ugly Things. It's not the first time the band has graced the front of that California-based magazine: Michael Lucas' 1995 oral history is required reading for those who require a steady diet punk rock oral histories, and surely didn't get enough about the band in Jack Boulware's tales of Bay Area Punk Gimme Something Better.

Strike's a '70s era, first-generation punk music survivor, a committed writer, a traveler in the best Beat sense, displaying Burroughsian, as well as pulp, sensibilities in his written projects.

Strike's example also served as inspiration to me, before I set out to write my own first novel: Seeing him keep orderly writer's hours while spending time in the Mexican coastal-port town of Mazatlan, dedicated to pursuing his craft while esconced in the tropics; discussing with him his means of gathering image-notes or translating photos into words – and then recognizing how said snippets informed his novel Ports of Hell and short-story collection A Loud Humming Sound Came From Above.

I like to think he's at work today on a writing project, just as I am. Strike once told me that he no longer parties on New Year's Eve. Instead, he rises early on January 1st, using the day as a template for how he wants his year to progress, filling the first few hours of his New Year doing what he wants to be doing throughout the months ahead. 

Strike out, Johnny.



Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Johnny Strike (#3): Wickedpedia.

One of the few friends of mine to have his own Wikipedia page, Johnny Strike certainly possesses a background worthy of being researched via an online encyclopedia: co-founder of the seminal San Francisco punk band CRIME; former methadone clinic counselor; author of two books. The above photo, taken in May 2010, also appears on his "author page" on the web site for Headpress, one of his publishers.

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Johnny Strike (#2): A Loud Humming Sound Came From Above.

Johnny Strike surveying the goings-on on Calle Venus ("Venus Street") in Mazatlan, Mexico. Getting inspiration from way-out places. January 2002.

A postage stamp-sized, black-and-white version of the image above was used as the author photo within Strike's last book, Ports of Hell.

Strike celebrates a dual release at Amoeba Music in San Francisco next week. Coming out: a book of his short stories, A Loud Humming Sound Came From Above, and a new recording, Exalted Masters, by his band CRIME. Check out the cool posters for the event.

Monday, August 27, 2007

Poontang Wranglers: Barbary Coast Barnstormers.

Members of The Poontang Wranglers playing their amusing brand of jug band music at a place noted for jugs of a different sort: San Francisco's nudie establishment, the Lusty Lady.

The band features Michael Lucas (Phantom Surfers, CRIME) on washtub bass and Henry Rosenthal (aka Hank Rank, CRIME) on ukulele.

Lucas whispers the punchline to the ethnic joke that the "Commodore" will deliver in his heavily Italian-accented English. (Photo above.)

Classic, old-fashioned, Barbary Coast entertainment.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Johnny Strike (#1): Scene Of The CRIME.

Johnny Strike wandering CRIME's old stomping ground, San Francisco's North Beach, on a noir-looking night.