Portable Grindhouse: The Lost Art of the VHS

by Kimberly Lindbergs | November 19, 2009

Categories | News, Books

I grew up in the video age and I’m still in awe of the technology that first allowed me to watch thousands of movies in the privacy of my own home. Call me sentimental and nostalgic, but when I first got wind of Jacques Boyreau’s upcoming book Portable Grindhouse: The Lost Art of the VHS Box it made me giddy with excitement. From the publisher (Fantagraphics) site:

“Harken back to those thrilling days of yesteryear when the advent of rental videos astonished the movie-going consumer who could only feed his addiction by going to the theater or watching chopped up movies in between commercials on TV. Like vinyl, here is the revenge of another analog cast-off: the VHS is once again insinuating itself into American culture, and this book celebrates the anarchic design art of those early VHS boxes.”

The design of the book is fantastic and Fantagraphics recently released a video that showcases the book’s impressive design that I’ve posted below:

Author Jacques BoyreauIf is responsible for one of my favorite film poster books, Trash: The Graphic Genius of Xploitation Movie Posters, so I suspect Portable Grindhouse: The Lost Art of the VHS will be just as good. If you want to know more about the book I recommend visiting Fantagraphics website where you can pre-order yourself a copy.

Many thanks to Cat for making me aware of the book!

Bonus Material:
- Read About My First VHS Purchase

Comments (3)

Monster Baby Tales

by Kimberly Lindbergs | August 27, 2009

Categories | Books, Horror, Hammer Horror, Bob Wilkins

There are few things in life that I love more than old books and I’ve tried to hang onto just about every book that I’ve ever bought or been given as a gift. Since I’m currently in the process of moving and trying to sort out a lifetime’s worth of stuff that I’ve managed to amass over the years, I’ve been unearthing some of my old childhood books. Some of these books are old horror film books such as the aptly named Monster Movie Game book.

Monster Movie Game was written by Bay Area horror film host John Stanley along with Mal Whyte. It was originally published in 1974 and I’m not exactly sure how I ended up with a copy of it, but I think it might have been sold to kids at my school a few years after it’s initial release (’76 or ‘77) through the Scholastic Book Club. Whatever the case may be, I’ve managed to keep my copy of the Monster Movie Game book for many years and it’s undoubtedly one of the first film related books that I owned. Monster Movie Game is a very slim paperback with only 64 pages, but it’s jam-packed with lots of questions and answers about various monster movies and illustrated with great black and white photos.

The She Creature (1956) and Curse of the Werewolf (1961)
from the Monster Movie Game book

The cover of the Monster Movie Game book terrified me when I was a kid. It features a large photo from King Kong (1933) of the giant ape holding a frightened Fay Wray while he fights off a large pterodactyl dinosaur. Some of my earliest nightmares involved giant monsters like King Kong as well as ferocious dinosaurs so I suspect that the book’s cover is to blame for many of my bad dreams. Thankfully I didn’t let my fear of King Kong on the book’s cover deter me from savoring every one of its 64 pages. I spent countless hours staring at the photos it contained and ruminating over the questions it asked of its readers. The book introduced me to many movie monsters that I was unfamiliar with at the time such as the frightening She Creature from the 1956 film of the same name and it also featured many of favorite monsters like the Wolfman as portrayed by Oliver Reed in Hammer’s Curse of the Werewolf (1961).

After coming across my old copy of the Monster Movie Game book recently I thought it would be fun to share a few pages from it complete with my wrong answers and misspelled words. Occasionally I did manage to correctly identify a photo or film title, but for the most part my answers were always wrong. But you can’t blame a nine year old kid for trying! My spelling hasn’t improved much, but I definitely know more about monster movies now and I’m sure I have the Monster Movie Game book to partly thank for that.

READ MORE

Comments (4)

Being Hal Ashby

by Kimberly Lindbergs | July 31, 2009

Categories | Books, Directors, American Cinema

Hal Ashby on the set of Harold and Maude (1971)

With the exception of Martin Scorsese, Robert Altman and John Cassavetes, I can’t think of many other directors who have had more influence on modern American cinema in recent years than Hal Ashby. And yet, Ashby’s name still remains relatively unknown among the general film-going public. This seems partially due to the fact that all of the other directors I mentioned have been the subject of many books and formal studies. But since his early death in 1988 at age 59, Ashby’s troubled life has remained the stuff of Hollywood legend.

Thankfully that’s all changed with the release of Nick Dawson’s new book Being Hal Ashby: Life of a Hollywood Rebel recently published by the University of Kentucky Press. This fascinating account of the life and death of Hal Ashby is the first biography written about the director and it’s an important as well as informative read.

Hal Ashby is often remembered for his rebellious spirit, drug addiction and outsider status in Hollywood during the ‘70s. But Being Hal Ashby debunks a lot of the myths that have surrounded the director for years. It also sheds light on the creative choices Ashby made throughout his career without sensationalizing the darker aspects of his life. I really appreciated the tone of Nick Dawson’s book since it shied away from the tabloid style of so many other current biographies. The writer’s self-assured and thoughtful approach to his subject is really refreshing.

The ’70s proved to be an extremely productive decade for many Hollywood filmmakers, but few directors had such an incredible run of first-rate movies throughout the ’70s as Hal Ashby. In contrast to some of his more somber contemporaries, Ashby’s films managed to reflect the underlying anxiety felt in post-’60s America while still celebrating the country’s boundless optimism. Between 1970 and 1971 Hal Ashby directed The Landlord (1971), Harold and Maude (1971), The Last Detail (1973), Shampoo (1975), Bound for Glory (1976), Coming Home (1978) and Being There (1979). But before becoming one of the decade’s greatest filmmakers, Ashby was an Oscar winning editor who worked on some of the best films of the ‘60s including The Children’s Hour (1961), The Cincinnati Kid (1965), The Loved One (1965), The Russians Are Coming the Russians Are Coming (1966), In the Heat of the Night (1967) and The Thomas Crown Affair (1968).

Being Hal Ashby provides readers with a well-rounded examination of Ashby’s career and doesn’t bypass the films he continued to make into the ‘80s before succumbing to the cancer that finally killed him. It’s obvious that Nick Dawson has a deep appreciation of the director’s work and his enthusiasm is contagious. After finishing Being Hal Ashby I was inspired to seek out some of the director’s later films such as Lookin’ to Get Out (1982) and 8 Million Ways to Die (1986) that I may have dismissed in the past. I suspect that I’ll now view them with new appreciation and respect. When a book inspires me to reevaluate my own opinions about a filmmaker’s career, it’s well worth recommending.

Being Hal Ashby: Life of a Hollywood Rebel retails for $37.50, but you can currently purchase copies of the book at Amazon for just $30. Whether you’re a fan of Hal Ashby and his films or just interested in what Hollywood was like in the ‘70s; Being Hal Ashby makes for some great summer reading.

Recommended Links:
- You can read an excerpt from Being Hal Ashby at the Film In Focus Website
- Being Hal Ashby @ Twitter offers news & updates about the book

Comments (8)

10 Questions with Shane Briant

by Kimberly Lindbergs | May 4, 2009

Categories | Books, Actors, British Cinema, Hammer Horror, Interviews, Featured, Gay Interest

Shane Briant in Straight on Till Morning (1972)

The talented British’ born actor Shane Briant made his screen debut in the Hammer horror film Demons of the Mind. Since then he’s gone on to appear in over 60 films and television productions including Straight On Till Morning (1972), The Picture of Dorian Gray (1973), The Mackintosh Man (1973), Captain Kronos: Vampire Hunter (1974), Frankenstein and the Monster from Hell (1974), The Naked Civil Servant (1975) and Lady Chatterley’s Lover (1981). Currently Briant is focusing his attention on writing and he has recently completed a psychological thriller called Worst Nightmares that will be released in the US on May 12th. I’ve admired his film work for many years so I was thrilled to get the opportunity to ask Shane Briant a few questions about his early movies and current writing projects. READ MORE

Comments (10)

Party Tips from Phyllis Diller

by Kimberly Lindbergs | December 31, 2008

Categories | Books, Rants & Raves, Comedies, Actresses

Over the Christmas holidays I made an attempt to do some baking. When my mother was alive we’d spend a week in the kitchen cooking before Christmas, but I was just her assistant and unfortunately I never really learned how to function on my own in a kitchen. I burnt the first batch of cookies I made this year and the second batch I made tasted awful. I thought that watching every episode of Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations over the last couple of years would improve my cooking abilities. Obviously I was wrong. All Bourdain’s terrific show has done is make me want to travel more and eat at fabulous restaurants. Besides my dislike of cooking, I also hate cleaning. The sad truth is that l’ll never be the domestic goddess that my mother, grandmothers and great grandmothers were. This isn’t something I’m particularly proud of. It’s just fact.

If that wasn’t bad enough, I’m also a terrible party host as well as a terrible party guest. I find myself usually struck dumb at parties, which means I drink too much in an attempt to entertain myself. Board games have become popular at parties again, but they bore me to tears whenever I’m forced into playing them. No matter how wild the party guests may think they are, conversations often revolve around jobs, babies, home ownership and cooking when you’re my age. These are all topics that make my eyes glaze over when I want to have a good time. Popular movies are also discussed at parties that I’ve never seen and have no desire to see. Want to talk about Jess Franco’s films, Klaus Kinski’s acting, Japanese toys, Mid-Century design, Byron’s poetry or Evelyn Waugh’s prose? Invite me to your party! On the other hand, if you want to discuss the best way to make polenta, sports of any kind or the latest Adam Sandler comedy, please forgive me when I suddenly come down with a nasty cold just hours before your party starts.

So why am I telling you all this? Because it explains why I enjoy Phyllis Diller’s 1966 book Housekeeping Hints so much! This funny book was a gift last year from fellow Flickr user Mjlaff and I can’t thank her enough. Since I received a brand new sparkling Epson scanner for my birthday, I thought I’d share some of Phyllis Diller’s timely wisdom with you all. If you’re planning a big party tonight to celebrate the New Year, you won’t want to miss reading some of Diller’s selected housekeeping tips and party planning tricks. Like me, Phyllis Diller shuns the Cult of Domesticity and she also has a wicked sense of humor. So without further ado, here’s some helpful party tips from one of the leading pioneers of stand-up comedy accompanied by some wonderful illustrations by artist Susan Perl.

Shopping Made Easy:

- “Spot a domestic looking woman in the supermarket and copy what she’s got in her grocery cart.”

- “Don’t buy products that advertise that even a child can use them. Theses failures have a greater sting.”

- “Pick up a cook book at a rummage sale so you have one that looks used.”

- “Above all, don’t feel you’re lying when you use the term ‘home-baked’ if the bakery is in town.”

Dial M for Messy:

- “Always have a lot of souvenirs around from far off places, even if you’ve just sent for them from a mail order house. It will give the impression of being a world traveler who hasn’t been home long enough to have thoroughly cleaned the house.”

- “Blame a lot of things - like soiled wallpaper, greasy walls, and a dirty basement - on the previous owners (or renters), even if you’ve lived there for 25 years.”

- “Do not have company when the sunlight is streaming through the windows. Everything shows up. Entertain at night or close the drapes and break the cord.”

- “No matter what anyone drops behind the couch, don’t let them retrieve it, whether it’s a wrist watch or a diamond ring. Offer to replace it. What’s money when compared to your ruined reputation?”

The Hostess with the Leastest:

- “No matter what time your guests arrive, pretend they’re early, so naturally you’re not ready for them.”

- “Discuss religion and politics at your dinner party so people get into heated arguments and don’t notice what they’re eating. They may also think that the arguing caused their indigestion.”

- “Never serve meals on time. The starving eat anything.”

- “You can easily find yourself in a group of women exchanging recipes and discussing knitting patterns. The only safe way to avoid this is to drift over to a group of men. If they’re exchanging recipes and discussing knitting patterns, leave the party.”

Happy New Year!

Comments (18)

Burton’s First Encounter with Taylor

by Kimberly Lindbergs | September 13, 2008

Categories | Books, Actors, Actresses, Elizabeth Taylor, Richard Burton

I recently stumbled across this fascinating description of Richard Burton’s first meeting with Elizabeth Taylor written by Burton himself and borrowed from his book Meeting Mrs. Jenkins (1966). I enjoyed reading it so much that I just had to share it. Not only is it an amazing read but it’s also a great showcase for Burton’s wicked sense of humor and his wonderful way with words. Besides acting, directing and producing, Richard Burton was also an avid writer and he kept journals for most of his adult life.

“It was my first time in California and my first visit to a swank house. There were quite a lot of people in and around the pool, all suntanned and all drinking the Sunday morning liveners – Bloody Marys, boilermakers, highballs, iced beer. I knew some of the people and was introduced to the others. Wet brown arms reached out of the pool and shook my hand. The people were all friendly, and they called me Dick immediately. I asked if they would please call me Richard – Dick, I said, made me feel like a symbol of some kind. They laughed, some of them. It was, of course, Sunday morning and I was nervous.

I was enjoying this small social triumph, but then a girl sitting on the other side of the pool lowered her book, took off her sunglasses and looked at me. She was so extraordinarily beautiful that I nearly laughed out loud. I didn’t, of course, which was just as well. The girl was not, and, quite clearly, was not going to be laughing back. I had an idea that, finding nothing of interest, she was looking right through me and was examining the texture of the wall behind. If there was a flaw in the sandstone, I knew she’d find it and probe it right to the pith. I fancied that if she chose so, the house would eventually collapse.

I smiled at her and, after a long moment, just as I felt my own smile turning into a cross-eyed grimace, she started slightly and smiled back. There was little friendliness in the smile. A new ice cube formed of its own accord in my Scotch-on-the-rocks.

She sipped some beer and went back to her book. I affected to become social with the others but out of the corner of my mind – while I played for the others the part of a poor miner’s son who was puzzled, but delighted by the attention these lovely people paid to him – I had her under close observation. She was, I decided, the most astonishingly self-contained, pulchritudinous, remote, removed, inaccessible woman I had ever seen. She spoke to no one. She looked at no one. She steadily kept on reading her book. Was she merely sullen? I wondered. I thought not. There was no trace of sulkiness in the divine face. She was a Mona Lisa type, I thought. In my business everyone is a type. She is older than the deck chair on which she sits, I thought headily, and she is famine, fire, destruction, and plague, she is the Dark Lady of the Sonnets, the on lie true begetter. She is a secret wrapped in an enigma inside a mystery, I thought with a mental man-to-man nod to Churchill. Her breasts were apocalyptic, they would topple empires down before they withered. Indeed, her body was a miracle of construction and the work of an engineer of genius. It needed nothing but itself. It was true art, I thought, executed in terms of itself. It was smitten by its own passion. I used to think things like that. I was not long down from Oxford and Walter Pater was still talked of and I read the art reviews in the quality weeklies without much caring about the art itself, and it was a Sunday morning in Bel Air, and I was nervous, and there was the Scotch-on-the-rocks.

Like Miniver Cheevy I kept on drinking and, in the heady flow of the attention I was getting, told story after story as the day boozed slowly on. I went in swimming once or twice. So did she, but, lamentably, always after I’d come out. She swam easily and gracefully as an Englishwoman would and not with the masculine drive and kick of most American girls. She was unquestionably gorgeous. I can think of no other word to describe a combination of plentitude, frugality, abundance, tightness. She was lavish. She was a dark unyielding largesse. She was, in short, too bloody much, and not only that, she was totally ignoring me. I became frustrated almost to screaming when I had finished a well-received and humorous story about the death of my grandfather and found that she was turned away in deep conversation with another woman. I think I tried to eavesdrop but was stayed by words like – Tony and Janet and Marlon and Sammy. She was not, obviously, talking about me.

Eventually, with half-seas-ed cunning and with all the nonchalance of a traffic jam, I worked my way to her side of the pool. She was describing – in words not normally written – what she thought of a producer at M.G.M. This was my first encounter with freedom of speech in the U.S.A., and it took my breath away. My brain throbbed; I almost sobered up. I was profoundly shocked. It was ripe stuff. I checked her again. There was no question about it. She was female. In America the women apparently had not only got the vote – they’d got the words to go with it.

I was somewhat puzzled and disturbed by the half-look she gave me as she uttered the enormities. Was she deliberately trying to shock me? Those huge violet-blue eyes (the biggest I’ve ever seen, outside those who have glandular trouble – thyroid, et cetera) had an odd glint in them. You couldn’t describe it as a twinkle…. Searchlights can not twinkle, they turn on and off and probe the heavens and so on.

Still I couldn’t be left out. I had to join in and say something. I didn’t reckon on the Scotch though. I didn’t reckon that it had warped my judgment and my sense of timing, my choice of occasion. With all the studied frenzy of Dutch courage I waded into the depths of those perilous eyes.

In my best chiffon-and-cut-glass Oxford accent I said: “You have a remarkable command of Olde-Englishe.”

There was a pause in which I realized with brilliant clarity the relativity of time. Aeons passed, civilizations came and went, brave men and cowards died in battles not yet fought, while those cosmic headlights examined my flawed personality. Every pockmark on my face became a crater of the moon. I reached up with a casual hand to cover up the right-cheeked evidence of my acne’d youth. Halfway up I realized my hand was just as ugly as my face and decided to leave the bloody thing and die instead. But while contemplating the various ways of suicide and having sensibly decided, since I had a good start, to drink myself to death, I was saved by her voice which said, “Don’t you use words like that at the Old Vic?”

“They do,” I said, “but I don’t. I come from a family and an attitude that believe such words are an indication of weakness in vocabulary and emptiness of mind…. Despite Jones’s writing that in times of acute shared agony and fear, as in trench warfare, obscenities repeated in certain patterns can at times become almost liturgical, almost poetic….” I ran out of gas.

There was another pause; more empires fell. Captains and kings and counsellors arrived and departed. She said three four-letter words. These were, I think, “Well! Well! Well!”

Somebody laughed uneasily. The girl had turned away. I had been dismissed. I felt as lonely as a muezzin, as a reluctant piano lesson on a Saturday afternoon, as the Last Post played on a cracked bugle.

I went home and somebody asked, when I told them where I’d been, what she was like. “Dark. Dark. Dark. Dark. She probably,” I said, “shaves.” To nobody in particular I observed that the human body is eighty percent water.”

Comments (8)

End of the Summer Reading

by Kimberly Lindbergs | August 28, 2008

Categories | News, Books, Television, Science Fiction, John Phillip Law, Nikkatsu

Summer is coming to an end and I thought I’d make mention of a couple of new and upcoming book releases that I’m looking forward to reading.

First up is John Phillip Law: Diabolik Angel written by Carlos Aguilar and his wife Anita Haas. They worked closely with John Phillip Law on the book before his unfortunate death this summer and it promises to be one of the most interesting biographies of the year. Carlos has written many wonderful books that I admire on directors like Sergio Leone and Jess Franco. He was kind enough to send me some information about his latest book as well as a wonderful picture of himself and his wife with John Phllip Law so that I could share it with my readers.

Above: Carlos Aguilar, Anita Haas and John Phillip Law.

Here’s a brief blurb about the book from the back cover that should grab your attention:

“John Phillip Law is one of the most cosmopolitan and charismatic actors of his generation. He is best remembered for his fantasy cult films Barbarella, Danger: Diabolik and The Golden Voyage of Sinbad, the European western Death Rides a Horse, and the American classic The Russians Are Coming! The Russians Are Coming! and Von Richthofen and Brown. But apart from that, his novelesque personal and artistic journey bears a unique intercontinental link between diverse phenomena, both inside and outside cinema: from Hollywood in the 50s to Broadway in the 60s; love affairs with actresses Faye Dunaway, Barbara Parkins, Marisa Mell and Barbara Bouchet; the world of the hippies, with its free love and drugs; the Playboy empire; la dolce vita in Rome, Almeria of the spaghetti westerns and European co-productions of all kinds; Spain’s dictatorship, the beginning of the West’s fascination with martial arts, Asia’s economic awakening and Dracula in the theatre. John Phillip Law has, in one way or another, been part of all these phenomena. This extensive interview, in which he shares his memories with straightforward honesty, is accompanied by an exceptional collection of photos. An extraordinary work about an extraordinary life.”

At the moment John Phillip Law: Diabolik Angel is only available from SciFiworld in Spain but hopefully this bilingual book will get a wider release in the future.

Another interesting upcoming release is Midnight Eye contributor Jasper Sharp’s new book Behind the Pink Curtain: The Complete History of Japanese Sex Cinema. According to the publishers at FAB Press it’s based on extensive interviews with many of the leading figures in the field and offers to take readers on “a wild joy ride deep into the hinterlands of Japanese culture, society and radical politics.”

From the FAB Press website:

“Just how close are the links between the arthouse and the grindhouse in Japan? Read about the ins and outs of Japanese censorship from the wartime onwards, and how topless deep sea diving girls came to woo local audiences in the ’50s. Learn how a TV nature documentary maker ended up helming nude female Tarzan movies, and how ’60s mavericks Kôji Wakamatsu and Masao Adachi met up with John and Yoko at Cannes while on the way to the Golan Heights to make a film about Palestinian revolutionaries. How Deep Throat’s Harry Reems wound up in Tokyo starring in a zany sex comedy about a penis transplant gone awry, and how one of Japan’s most famous literary figures ended up the subject of the country’s first gay porno movie. How one of Nikkatsu’s leading directors went it alone to make a film about powerboat racing and ended up in the bad books of the yakuza, and how the anti-Bush sex farce Horny Home Tutor: Teacher’s Love Juice came to be re-titled as The Glamorous Life of Sachiko Hanai and became one of the most talked-about Japanese films of recent years, playing at over twenty international film festivals.”

Behind the Pink Curtain: The Complete History of Japanese Sex Cinema is available from Amazon.

Last but not least, is Marcelo Abeal’s new book The Legend of Time Tunnel which is a tribute to Irwin Allen’s terrific television series of the same name. Abeal’s book includes detailed chapters on all the main actors involved with the production such as Robert Colbert, James Darren, Lee Meriwether, Whit Bissell, John Zaremba, Sam Groom and Wesley Laus as well as Irwin Allen himself. The book also boasts a special introduction by Robert Colbert, an episode guide and detailed information about the stunts performed on the show. I briefly wrote about Irwin Allen’s contributions to television last year and I’m happy to see that his television work is getting more attention.

Marcelo Abeal is an Argentinian actor and professional stuntman himself and his book seems to be a limited release. If you’re interested in purchasing a copy please email Bob Frassinetti at: admin@frassinetti.com and tell him I sent you!

Comments (14)

Annie Nightingale’s Wicked Speed

by Kimberly Lindbergs | May 9, 2008

Categories | Books, Rants & Raves

Top: Annie Nightingale in 1964

The very groovy Richard Harland Smith over at Turner Movie Classics much admired Movie Morlocks Blog invited me to participate in a sort of “meme” with the following rules attached to it:

) Pick up the nearest book.
2) Open to page 123.
3) Locate the fifth sentence.
4) Post the next three sentences on your blog and in so doing…
5) Tag five people, and acknowledge who tagged you.

I tend to dislike these sorts of things but the meme was easy enough and didn’t require much thinking on my part so I took Richard up and his offer and in the end I was happy to be invited to participate.

At the time that I got Richard’s email the nearest book laying next to me was an autographed hardback copy of Annie Nightingale’s biography Wicked Speed that I bought at a Tower Records store when I was in London in 2000. Annie Nightingale was Britain’s first female DJ and she’s a fascinating woman who has mixed and mingled with many of Britain’s best bands. After writing my recent post about The Mod Musicals of Lance Comfort I’ve had the early days of British pop music and radio on my mind so I had recently been revisiting Nightingale’s book. From the book description:

“Britain’s first female DJ. A suburban schoolgirl whisked into the world of music, whose passion led her to the world of the Beatles, the Yarbirds, the Rolling Stones and the Who. As a young journalist she put herself on the line for young bands - and she’s still at it with Shaun Ryder, Primal Scream and Daft Punk, just to name a few.

Annie Nightingale became one of the hardcore “birds” of London’s growing Sixties pop-art scene. She got married, was a Cosmopolitan columnist, and had kids. She also had parties. But more than anything, she wanted to become a DJ on Radio 1 - hard in the days when the BBC was a male-dominated environment. Yet she won out in the end - and for years was alone in her field.”

Three sentences from page 123 of Wicked Speed:
“I’d be interviewing the Minister of Nuclear Procurement, say, and I’d address him by his first name, which would throw him completely, and ask him if he believed in God. Both Margret Thatcher’s children appeared on the show as guests; Carol was preferable of the two. French and Saunders, who were just starting out at the time, were also guests on Mailbag, in their newest guise as Duranies.”

When I bought Wicked Speed eight years ago I had no idea who Annie Nightingale was but I needed a quick read for the plane trip home and the book description sounded fascinating. I’ve been a fan of sixties era British rock and pop since I was just a kid (the first concert I ever attended was a Rolling Stones’ show when I was only 13 years old). I also briefly worked as a DJ myself in the late ’80s spinning dance music and popular club hits at a local nightspot so I was curious to learn more about “Britain’s first female DJ.”

Annie Nightingale is not a great storyteller and if you’re bothered by run-on sentences you should probably avoid it. The book also lacks an index, which is especially annoying if you’re someone like me who wants easy access to her entertaining stories about interviewing a bored Sean Connery after he had just completed the first James Bond film or driving Scott Walker’s Mini Cooper. But if you enjoy all the name dropping Nightingale does and are interested in what life was like for the first female DJ in Britain, Annie Nightingale’s Wicked Speed is an entertaining and quick read.

I hate the idea of “tagging” anyone but if the following people would like to participate please feel free to!

Tagged:
Jeremy Richey at Moon in the Gutter
Jonathan Lapper at Cinema Styles
Peter Nellhaus at Coffee, coffee and more coffee
Tenebrous Kate at Love Train for the Tenebrous Empire
Robert Monell at I’m in a Jess Franco State of Mind

Now on to Cinebeats’ irregular scheduled programming . . .

Comments (7)