for adults and juvenile delinquents only

Welco me to the Sinful world of STAY SICK !!!
y Sick Well, things have been quiet in the Sta th with batcave after a killer diller show last mon ing it King Salami & the Stompin RiffRaffs, tear r going up at our busiest Stay Sick ever. And afte freak train, on tour with the Wild Evel Trashbone shers in spinnin’ 6Ts garage tunes for the eurotra Austria (more later). exciting We have been plotting some new and they are stuff for all you freaks out there. Times Oh-Sees a’changin’, we are looking to get Thee ps friend, back this year, along with our old cram t full of Mr Kid Congo. We have started a podcas abilly, screwball garage, surf and revved up rock d under which you can find on iTunes & mixclou s is that the “Stay Sick Radio Show”. The big new foolhardy STAY SICK is venturing, like so many before up oat (or should that be fools?), into the cut-thr ning to world of the record business. We are plan midnight release a 7” Vinyl EP (in limited edition that we black) of our favourite unsigned bands have put on over the past 4 years. the We also mourn the loss of Etta James, about original R&B wigger, Johnny Otis (more bassist this guy later on) and Michael Davis, the of influential late 1960s rock band MC5.

Rest In Pieces

Chris Sick & Neil Sick

wild evel

and the r s austria tou T h e trashbone
It’s mid-February. England is freezing. So what better place to go to than Austria? The week before it was -9C there. Had we lost our minds? Nah, that was years ago. Stay Sick have been invited to the land of Mozart, Schnapps and, er, Red Bull (?), as tour Djs by Austria’s 6ts primitive caveman punk crazies Wild Evel and The Trashbones. We’re picked up at the airport, a tad whiskey’d up and driven into snowy Vienna, and Evel’s downtown cave. You know how the next five days are gonna go when you’re introduced and sat next to, a full keg of beer that has been, ahem, ‘acquired’ along with a chilled draught system for your drinking pleasure. Oh, AND to a guy who used to play sax with Screamin’ Lord Sutch! Kicks are never far away if Evel and his gang are involved. first show is at The Chelsea, in the heart of the sleazy go-go dancing world of vice that is Vienna’s red light area. A trashy, dark tunnel of inequity beneath the arches of the rumbling under(over)ground. The place is noisy, sweaty and the air thick with the haze of smoke and stage lights. Yep, cigarette smoke, at a venue. Remember that?

I’m roped into compering somehow, and before you know it, thrust onstage. First up, I introduce the beautiful young burlesque performer, Bayou Mystere, who teased, delighted and mesmerised a full house with her performances to Link Wray’s ‘The Rumble’ and Eddie Buram’s ‘Riot in Thunder Alley’.

By Neil Sick

Next up, the tour’s supporting a c t ,

headliners and our hosts took to the stage. Wild Evel is a modern day savage. Taking no time he whips the crowd up with his b-movie sci-fi monster poses, three finger Farfisa stabbings and Neanderthal-teenpunk antics. Backed by The Trashbones, AKA king of fuzz Murphy Morphine, the youthful Powl Howl on lead, the sultry Miss Bloody Mary on bass and the unmerciful caveman clubbed skin hitting, Viking helmeted rhythms of Bernado, their Keith Moon of a secret weapon. This bone necklaced, striped teenage-shutdown t-shirt wearing band are as tight sonically as they are trouser-ed. Not to mention onstage guests from The Jailbirds and the honking and growling of ex- Screaming Lord Sutch sax man Buddy Grabner. Still having his rock n roll cake and eating it at 72! They scream and holler through tracks from ‘Tales From The Cave’, launching their debut album, for which this rock n roll circus of musicians, burlesque and disc jockeys was assembled. High lights have to be the awesome teen anthem, ‘Let’s Go Right Now’, the

Switzerland’s femme fronted garage-beat trio The Jackets. Woah! Screw Toblerone, cuckoo clocks and penknives for Swiss exports, and who said they just sit on the fence all neutral and all? The Jackets do not. This was a Swiss invasion!

Led by singer/guitarist Jackie Torera, all white shades, hiding thick eye linered doll-like hypnotic eyes, Uma Thurman Pulp Fiction hair, (and donning a monster handle bar moustache!) the simplicity of their matching b&w dress and collars was as effective as their no messin’, pounding killer beaten up 6Ts fuzz and beat. Thankfully the crowd were tolerant to my drunken ramblings introducing the bands. Now the

blistering ‘Oh Yeah!’ and harmonica laden, ‘I Wanna Be Your Caveman’. Evel treats his red vintage Farfisa with as little respect as you dare imagine. One second it’s falling into the front row, the next it’s upside down on his shoulder as he punches chords. The fact this keyboard is still alive after a song, let alone the years it’s been in Evel’s possession is a miracle. It feels late as they depart leaving trash(boned)equipment all over the stage. However, in this part of the world the night is still young and we almost forget, we haven’t even started playing records! Alongside Stay Sick, there are three more deejays ripping it up. Vienna’s own Phil Vega$, Germany’s finest, Traxel, wax spinning heavyweight and founder of SoundFlat Records, plus DJ Lemon Squeezer, a self confessed Cramps addict. We spin, the bar plies us with rum, the bar spins! The rider seemingly never ends and the crowd doesn’t thin out. Stay Sick is in love with Austria. I lean and shout in Chris’ ear, “Things just don’t get much better than this!” followed forgetfully by, “What’s that? Oh fuck…. yeah”, as he reminds me this is ONLY the start and we’ve got two more dates to go in Graz and Aflenz!!! England maybe freezing but Austria is on fire!

B-MOVIE OF THE MONTH

Green Slime

Released in ’68, the same year as 2001: a Space Odyssey. This vastly superior B-movie wins over the bloated Kubrick fart for 5 good reasons: 1. 90 minutes vs 139 minutes

aliens (perhaps in the sequel, huh Mr Bruckheimer?). The astro-heroes return to Spacestation Gamma 3, bringing back green alien spunk. It mutates into angry space squid, hungry for electricity da… da… daaaaahhh…

2. Dialogue written by the co-creator There’s a love triangle between of the sixties Batman tv series Bond Girl, her new BF: Vince – the lugheaded station commander, and her 3. A Bond girl – Domino from ex: Jack – an arrogant, ginger-quiffed Thunderball was cast, not for her Cuprinol superman with a penchant for acting chops but for her ability to inappropriate thumbs-ups. wear baco-foil dresses as her role as With dialogue so stilted and acting cosmic- nurse so wooded it might as well be in the garden furniture isle at B&Q. 4. An Acid Psych Garage theme. For example, Bond Girl stares at Writen by Charles Fox and later a blackened smoking corpse and covered by the Fuzztones, this fuzz announces her professional diagnosis & flute classic rivals “the Blob” for “he’s dead”. No shit! best B-movie tune. A ridiculous plan of getting rid of the 5. Cheap models spaceships that are one-eyed octo-blobs involving a giant more Thunderbird than Star Wars Mag-lite goes horribly wrong (who-dathunk-it?) so an epic zero-grav space 6. Proper aliens vs a monotonous firefight ensues. EPIC STUFF !!! standby light Filmed in Japan with a mostly American cast (many of the extras were US soldiers from Yokata Airbase), this sci-fi base-undersiege has more plot-holes than plot. The story is- an asteroid is on a collision course for Earth, like in the Bruised Willis film “Armegedeon”. A team is sent up to drill a hole in the meteor, like in the film “Armegedeon”, and put a nuclear charge in and blow it up, like in the fil… well you get the picture. But where this films differs from the big “A”, is green slime wibbly midget

R.I.P. Johnny Otis
28/12/21 – 17/01/12

Johnny Otis; bandleader, drummer, vibes-man, DJ, T.V. host, preacher: Otis is credited as the Godfather of R&B, and not without reason. Get this; beside his own considerable contributions to rock and roll history, Johnny Otis is responsible for turning up enough talent to keep any reasonably sized record label happy for at least a decade, or two. Born in 1921 to a family of Greek immigrants and growing up in northern California, Otis soon decided he felt a closer connection to the local black community than he did to his own white neighbours. Learning the drums and playing with local jazz bands led Otis to put his own band together. By the time WWII was over, Otis had a successful outfit, playing blues inflected jazz and swing, with a band stripped down by the new economic necessity – a blueprint for many R&B bands to come.

Otis struck gold in the late ‘40s when he recruited a 13 year old singer, “Little” Ester Phillips, to his orchestra (the band could also boast a certain Wynonie Harris at the time). As a talent scout for labels such as Cincinnati’s King records, Otis continued to mine a rich seam of talent over the coming decade, unearthing Jackie Wilson, Big Jay McNeely, Little Richard, Little Willie John and Etta James (who was

tle, apparently), neither big nor lit

a pair of known singer to troduced a little a Thornton, meet Leiber In 1951, Otis in riters – Big Mam to write budding songwpair liked Big Mama and, deciding es! The inut and Stoller. The penned Hound Dog in 15 m hnny Otis, a ditty for her, n was set to be produced by Joto scratch. recording sessio that was booked was not up rnerstone but the drummer s for what was to become a cost chance Otis sat in on drum wing Leiber & Stoller their fir allo of rock and roll, . History was made. s and into behind the desk R&B hits throughout the fiftieHand Jive. ed e Otis’ band scor his biggest being Willie and th dabbling the early sixties, make records into the ‘70s, while from the He continued to d religion, but it is for his output m most hi in local politics an late fifties that we remember the mid-forties to fondly. rful music of the ck out the wonde on the Doxy records Che stra Johnny Otis Orche hnny Otis Show”. he Jo compilation “T . Rock on Johnny

to name a few.

Shamblin’ Sexto

n

raquel welch

rediscovered
regurgitated

&

in social gatherings, the primal noise of thee old gods exposes itself as a monstrous djinn of

punk ass blues

available on vinyl & download from punkvert.tv

a bitter little whinger.

I Just 3. Will Ferrell – comedy s Thing genius or unfunny chancer, 10 renown for ad libbing barely amusing, flaccid ’t Get theThese the script, jackass! banter. Stick to are not Don l views of Stay Sick, just 4. Psych infantile,the sixties: garage – I love officia
: Asparagus – 1. expensive and leaves you with a bland soapy flavour in your mouth mmmm? Oh, and the final sting in the tail is piss that smells of burnt rubber, how is that possible? Same goes with expensive versions of normal veg, they are either smaller, like shallots or chantenay carrots, or a different colour like blue potatoes and purple sprouting broccoli – guess what? still tastes of broccoli. Chocolate – girls go loopy for it, apparently it releases the same endorphins as the ones after sex. I’ll take the latter every time over a Cadbury’s finger (nudge nudge wink wink) –I 2. It’s been hanging over me all know. my life, time to confess. The Stones do nothing for me. They ripped of classic blues songs badly (and I love the original Chess records) – take Howlin Wolf’s Little Red Rooster for example, even their name is ripped off from a Muddy Waters song. Even covering the Beatles’ “I Wanna be your Man” for their second single, clearing up that age old Beatles vs Stones debate. Comparing them is like comparing Einstein with an ape scratching his nuts. Anything after Beggars Banquet is absolute tosh. They don’t even have the decency to die (except Brian, I guess)

LUXURY Food

, beat, mod, frat but that psychedelic LSD wishwash of sitar, reverb-drenched girly singing and tripped out lyrics about the “ice cream sun crying cosmic tears into a bucket of peace”, just grates on me which leads me to…

5. – dark side of the moon is 6th form poetry set to an overworked soundtrack, all the early stuff is twee nonsense and oh so very, very British, what what. No wonder Syd went mental. It all leaves me uncomfortable numb (apart from Lucifer Sam, I will give them that) 6. – I never had a team when I was a kid so without someone to back, it’s just a load of overpaid apes playing a simple game of luck. 2-1, 1-0, 0-0 draw, even the scores are boring. If you hang around musicians (like I do), conversation will always end up with a chat about footie and I end up feeling as welcome as a leper at a picnic.

Pink Floyd

Football

The Rolling Stones

age of 25, that sparkling piss of the Devil. It is such a show off and delivers nothing but a dry (or should I say Brut-al) aftertaste similar to bleach, and the most unfair hangovers-to-drinks-drunk ratio known to man. People (by which I mean girls) see it as “A BIT OF FUN”. When 8. did drinking this shit become fun? Because of the bubbles? You might as - living on a greasy well down a bottle of Matey. You’d diet of B-movie sci-fi trash may have be better off sticking a Marlborough tainted my views on this pretentious Sauvignon Blanc in a Soda Stream swollen 3 hour snorefest. If Roger (other crushingly mediocre ‘80s Corman had produced it he would crazes are available). I still have so have sliced it down to 90mins and many friends who wake up the next day, added a cyber space squid attack. sick in their hair and a headache like And Russ Meyer would have added a rapist on red bull is skull-fucking some anti-grav boobage. You might them, and not blame the one thing they as well string up your Airfix models, don’t usually drink: and spend an evening watching them “ I had a couple of beers (as usual), 3 slowly spin whilst muttering “Dave” glasses of Prosecco (cos it was Anna’s under your breath. Its 2012 now, so birthday), and half a bottle of white where’s my spaceship Mr Kubrick? , wine (as usual). So why do I feel so bad?” Case Closed!

7. – I have tried for a month now, and I have no idea what it’s for. An inferior version of facebook, which is an inferior version of real life. People rave about it but I just don’t have that much to say. It just highlights how boring and self-obsessed people are. But if you are into it then find me at #staysickuk

Twitter

10.

Champagne/ Sparkling ripe Wine – I realised at the wine old is the

2001: a Space Odyssey

- what the fuck 9. happened between Punk’s implosion and Grunge’s explosion? A wash of dreary new romantic bullshit and the colourful meaninglessness of MTV, which was like being shot in the face with a glitter gun. I now know it wasn’t all bad, the birth of hip-hop Joy Division, Gang of , Four, the Cramps (obviously), the Violent Femmes, Aussie Rockers Radio Birdman & The Saints, Psychobilly, the Garage revivalists like Billy Childish and Thee Milkshakes, The Mummies & The Fuzztones, The Gun Club. And the awesome goth voodoo blues of THE BIRTHDAY PARTY which single-handedly makes up for all the Madonna, Michel Jackson, Fame, shit synth & sparkle and pop music of that decade.

The Eighties

If you want to live, you must die!!!
a punk noir periodical

episode 4:

who is Sick, a man My name's Chr s tunes and here' histles his own w ed r. I've been fram the song so fa of a girl called for the murder tiger angerous as a Ivy, a girl as d ful r, and as beauti with a hangove I go key in winter. as a warm whis d to clear my hea to a Speakeasy e ts of rum. Som with a few sho d e out and I en goon knocks m in. I get busted wearing a coff up e, from the grav out, and crawl ith owit! it's Ivy w and whadya kn e to there's no tim the shovel. But om girl can go fr find out how a in one night. pse to a 60mph cor ws, unded by shado We were surro g closer. "the ey were gettin and th vy exclaimed, I nd is coming" I E an was wronger th just hoped she u 's my story, yo get porn. That mid e! got a better on

The shadows were closing in, and I could see through the mist, their bruised, bleeding bodies. Their features oozing down their faces, stained with a mix of congealed blood and puss. They inched closer and closer. Hundreds of them, and they meaned business, if their business was tearing folks limb from limb. I swung a punch at one and my hand just passed through him, like tea through a vicar. I had a fist full o' guts, but I kept on swinging and they kept'a comin'. Clawing at Ivy and me, hundreds of bony fingers scratching and pulling. One got me round the neck and I heard Ivy scream. I was pinned to the ground and just as one of these goofballs was about to bite, the Churchbells started ringing.

The masses retreated, like kids being called in for diner, going back to a grave, each started burrowing with their bleeding fingers, and bathing deep into the mud like swines in summer. I looked over to Ivy who was scared but alive. "come on, we gotta get outta here" and I wasn't gonna argue with that.
I could see the lights of a tru ck in the distance, coming straig ht for us. With an appetiser lik e that, I wasn't going to wait for the main course. So we starte d running away from the church . Not knowing where to go we end ed up in a dead end, the high church yard walls blocking our path. The truck screeched to a halt and a do zen priests jumped out, their fac es
as ninjas, ninj overed like c utomatics. I with semi-a as coming, I knew what w efore. this game b had played ey ly silence, th With a dead ling felt the chil advanced, I e ucifix to th blow of a cr s ck and I wa ck of my ne ba 's an a penguin out colder th beak you ean pecker (I m verts!). bunch o' per

SO WHO ARE THE NINJA VICARS? WHO'S CONTROLLING THE ARMY OF UNDEAD? WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO SICK AND IVY?

at The Boston Arms Rockabilly Club 03/03/12
It's Saturday night and the 15th Anniversary Party of the Boston Arms Rockabilly Club at Tufnell Park London. Upstairs at the Dome the venue is packed full of rockers from and wide, anticipating a night of wild far music and the chance to see rockabil ly legend Royce Porter. Guest DJs kick the night off as the place fills up, followed by the Rhythm River Trio who play a great set to war up the excited crowd. The Audience m is hushed as compere Steve Stack O' Wax announces Royce Porter to the stage, backed by an all star band including members of Carlos and the Bandidos, legendary guitarist Darrel Higham and Imelda May ! This rockabilly star from Sweetwater Texas is 72 years old but belts out his songs including classics 'Yes I Do', 'Lookin' and 'A Woman Can Make you Blue' like it's 1956 ! His voice sounds great and the band compliment him perfectly with Darrel and Imelda also taking turns to perform songs.

Royce Porter

Royce recorded his 1st single aged just 17 and earned $350 a night for his live shows travelling around in his 1949 Ford. He has played alongside Elvis Presley, met most of the early Sun recording artists and has been friends with Dolly Parton, Waylon Jennings, Wanda Jackson, Dean Bea and Johnny Cash to name a few. He rd has also written 13 no. 1 singles and produced various recordings artists. As his set draws to a close resident DJs Dave Crozier and Cosmic Keith keep the party going playing hot boppers, jivers and strollers on original 45s. The dancefloor is busy as Mr Porter sign autographs and talks to fans for wells over an hour. A true gentleman and wel l worth seeing live. The night comes to an end in the early hours of Sunday morning, a fantastic show and great atmosphere he returns to the UK do I plan on see . If ing him again ? .. Yes I Do !

Rockin' Ratman

the bettie page

FoR all you Rs, RockERs, RollE s, 60s 50s thRowback s, GaRaGE ZombiE E black poison ivys, th t clad, lEathER JackE ddicts, punks, vinyl a Gys pool shaRks, iG and shakERs !!!

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