Happy Birthday to Kathi Lynn Wilcox, American musician, bass player for the Julie Ruin and has been in bands such as Bikini Kill, the Casual Dots, and the Frumpies, born on this day in 1969.
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Happy Birthday to Kathi Lynn Wilcox, American musician, bass player for the Julie Ruin and has been in bands such as Bikini Kill, the Casual Dots, and the Frumpies, born on this day in 1969.

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the frumpies
April 5, 2018.
A venture into New York City is always a good thing. Give me any reason - a doctorâs appointment, family, or a show in Greenpoint - and Iâm there. This time it was a check-up on the pricier Lower East Side. I asked the team to give me an early time because I knew something else was going on behind the clinic. I know because my old man drove me home all the time and took a specific rote to do so.
The chilly 35* temperatures bit like any early April would. The sharp white sun constantly cut across the passing white clouds drifting through the dry blue sky. I stand at the Deer Park platform for a few minutes and anticipate itsâ arrival. The iPod Classic (160GB) is still holding up. Itâs been my only companion that comes with me for Christ knows how long, ever since itâs not-as-capable brother (30GB) took itâs first ride with me supplying Whitehouseâs Racket, Vincent Galloâs When, and various Boards Of Canada and Roy Ayers cuts. That was another springtime trip where Cath- and I joined forces at Penn Station to go to the Brooklyn Museum and back home on the Ronkonkoma line for what was one of the most significant days ever lived. I loaded up the 400 or so finds to it of songs I never heard of before, songs then in the auditioning phase for Omega WUSBâs airplay. Train rides on the Deer Park line are usually prime-time to cycle through it all with no distractors around. My other companions? A Sony kit and a tripod.
I board and sit on the outer left aisle facing forward. No window seat this time. Public Image Ltd.âs âPoptonesâ couldnât have come at a better time as the Deer Park line slowly rolled down through Farmingdale. None more fitting when those loopy dangling notes of Keith Leveneâs Veleno moved perfectly with the slow floating crawl of the car. Iâm not even paying attention to the motion blur of the graffiti or the industrial buildings usually experienced when looking out of the window. Another song plays, itâs The Plugzâ âSatisifed And Dieâ. It was a gift from Holly, a Brooklyn goth girl who followed me here. Sheâs made me roused and stimulated like no other. We been trading recommendations for a couple months based on our equivalencies of industrial, noise, punk, and other artists. I never heard of Plugz until she told me that âHammyâ from The Pee-Wee Herman Show was in the band.
The music still spun in my ears. Each song that played was saved to the dayâs on-the-go playlist. No skips or fast-forwards. Eventually thereâll be seven or ten songs out of thirty that will follow me around forever out from the 400 chosen for April 5th. They kept going, and so was I on the way to Penn Station. Final track to end the ride? âHold On To Your Genreâ from Les Savy Fav, a band Iâve heard about over the years, and maybe a mention from former selector Xtina who used to run The All Ages Show before I took over her timeslot. Hollyâs hits kept on parading through.
Penn Station here. I save my energy taking the A/C/E connecting me to the N/Q/R/W line to Lexington Av. and walk up 3rd St. to the clinic. Here I am! Iâm directed to go upstairs and angle myself for some x-rays before heading downstairs to see the silver surgeon who saved my life eighteen months ago.
âWow! Whatâs that?â excitingly ask Renee, the surgeonâs assistant. She saw my kit and tripod and told her I was going to shoot after our appointment. She was happy to see me. Theyâve seen them all come and go during all their years in practice. It was a treat for them to see me have this new energy from when I was either blacked out on the hospital bed or frustrated and itching ready to go. But here I was. Thatâs the most important thing for all of us, right? Silver took his hand and pressed his tips on my shoulder to feel any changes. Looked over the film and saw no changes. Asked me how I was doing with this British / Irish roll and was pleased to hear that I was doing great. An hour later, I was good to go. Showâs over for now. See you in six months.
I haul my inventory out of the clinic and head towards where my old man would start our path home. Itâs the Grand Army Plaza at the southeastern corner of Central Park. Look up and youâll see the golden monument of William Tecumseh Sherman riding high on a stone pedestal with Victory guiding the way. I take several photos of all their heroic glory. A few horse-and-carriage jockeys were all around me with their furnishings dressed in white, red, and purple with gold trim. I see many overseas families make the best of their time taking photos for mementos forever to be remembered by, not knowing if and when theyâll have another opportunity to return again. But I donât stop there.
Forward I go into Central Park, because I had all the time in the world to tread into uncharted territory. I walk past the disused zoo and end up at the Balto statue. How cute. I stop and snap away for more test shots before some former aspiring Aron Kay wanna-be rode his bike past me and said something about Balto being a liberal conspiracy, and self-declared it a debacle that was worse that seeing Oprahâs goatse. I walk away from his trailed stench of shit and dried blood and now here I am walking right down the middle of The Mall and Literary Walk. It literally welcomes you in with its pathway, where its generousity is measured by its wideness.
It was at that exact point where I started feeling euphoric again. Iâve beaten cancer to see my final benefits loaded into savings. Three paychecks in March, the tax refund hit, and our company gave us full-timers a surprise $1,000 bonus. Minimal and synthwave finds connected me with some of my best followers here, good times with me and twenty of my other co-workers at my neighborhood arcade, and the record-store victory tour just started. All of my on-going projects at Ί+, VMFX, and WUSB kept me going and proud. My nerves straightened themselves out and for once in my life I was on top of everything. There were no worries, no stress, no pressure. There was only hope. I hit the sweet spot that I been trying to acquire for so long and this was it. I felt like I was the person I always wanted to be. Keep going.
To my right is the Naumburg Bandshell where I did my best to preserve whatever dynamics it presented me with a press of a button. Further I go and I encounter the Besthesda Terrace, a dazzling array thatâs been around for almost 175 years. Greeting me is its accompanying fountain where The Angel Of The Waters looks over all of us. A Danish family of four wanted their picture taken together so they asked me kindly to snap them with their camera, which I happily obliged.
Itâs 5PM. Joggers and bikers are imminent. Young couples are sitting on the hills admiring the skyscrapers to the south and west side. I let myself get lost as I head north. I reach the Bow Bridge to see a young Filipine couple in their wedding threads have their photos taken. I continue to wander through all the winding pathways and steep hills to find myself at Belvedere Castle which was gated off and closed indefinitely. A few thousand feet later, I stop short at the 86th Street Transverse to catch my breath and pause to experience the current moment of clarity. Robert Vigerâs âLimpiditeâ started to play. The sunâs about to set and itâs getting dimmer. Now was the time to head back.
I didnât remember the path I took to get here, so what fun I had when I got lost and realized I had to walk the equivalent of thirty city blocks to even reach East 59th Street again which I returned to. I was exhausted and was tempted to take the N/Q/R/W line back to Penn Station, but no. Itâs rare for me to be in the city, so why not make the best of it and walk it all back to Grand Central? My time was limitless because I didnât have to be at work until 1PM the next day. Letâs reverse the process.
I take part in the crowded hustle and bustle of Manhattan. I walk 30 blocks south back to Penn Station for the ride home eastward, still bathing in the new euphoria and pending Spring renewal I just felt. I arrive five minutes to my train, but no big deal. Iâm more than happy to re-hydrate with a $2.50 bottle of water and wait around until the Ronkonkoma line arrives. I have another relaxing 65-minute train ride back to Deer Park to cycle through more auditions and selections for the dayâs forever soundtrack before itâs gone forever. I arrive on the Deer Park platform and step off the train. I step off the platform and walk through the aluminum overpass and steps onto the parking lot. I get in my car and drive away to sweep up the rest of the way home through the Brentwood streets. 10:30PM and Iâm home for the night.
**********
Thereâs a message waiting for me after I walked in. Itâs Holly. She asked how my day was and what I was up to. It was real nice for one of my all-time favorite followers to even ask. I had to reply to her before heading to bed. I also sent her the dayâs photos and then asked to see if we could finally meet up. The momentum was stronger and now more essential than ever. Iâm thriving for more.
Ghost Spell: âPeople On The Streetâ
This Is Hell: âAnarchy On The Atlanticâ
Stars Are Insane, The: Versus
Ramleh: âSoundcheck Changeling 2â
Alan Shearer: âDark Is The Colorâ
Public Image Ltd.: âPoptonesâ
Ghost Spell: âTzzâ
Plugz, The: âRed Eye #9âł
Jan Jelinek: âThey Theirâ
Pan Daijing: âFemaleâ
Candy: âRain In Spetemberâ
Pierre-Alain Dahan & Slim Pezin: âSlim Berthaâ
Pisschrist: âFatal Controlâ
Alan Shearer: âOnly For One Girlâ
James Clarke: âSilent Summerâ
Thomas Leer: âSaving Graceâ
Paul Dupont & His Orchestra: âLovelornâ
Boy Harsher: âModulationsâ
Zola Jesus: âBoundâ
Errorsmith: âSuperlative Fatigueâ
Pisschrist: âFuck The Worldâ
Alan Shearer: âGeneration Vâ
Joanna Brouk: âThe Space Betweenâ
Grey Hairs: âEmergency Bangerâ
Hoganâs Heroes: âDrugsâ
Plugz, The: âTouch For Cashâ
Kap Bambino: âMore Machineâ
Leon Gardner: âFarm Songâ
Les Savy Fav: âHold On To Your Genreâ
Marijuana Deathsquads âAll Deepâ
Red Apollo: âKnife Partyâ
Stars Are Insane: âI Stayed Up All Night Thinking Of Youâ (ver.)
Wolf Alice: âSad Boyâ
76% Uncertain: âCoffee Achievers"
Kedr Livanskiy: âSunrise Stopâ
Haircut: âShutting Downâ
Keiji Haino: âSee That My Grave Is Kept Cleanâ
Cabaret Voltaire: Extended Play EP
Candy: âBearsâ
Frumpies, The: âI Just Wanna Puke On The Stereoâ
Pan Daijing: âOverdoseâ
Ajax: âPaper And Steelâ
Les Savy Fav: Inches
Robert Viger: âLimpiditeâ
the country trio; ink and watercolor
last couple weeksâs listening:
phil ochs - tape from california
public enemy - what you gonna do when the grid goes down?
green day - 39/smooth
devo - hardcore devo vol 2
sparks - the girl is crying in her latte
eric b. & rakim - donât sweat the technique
joseph spence - encore
priests - the seduction of kansas
sparks - in outer space
frumpies - frumpies forever
green day - 1,000 hours
various - malcolm x
open mike eagle - dark comedy
dressy bessy - pink hearts yellow moons
phil ochs - the best of the rest
avail - 4am friday

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kill rock stars magazine ad from 1993