|
|
|
|
|
|
 If
you own Lodger, you'll want this, too. Formed in the King's Road 1977
underground scene, these historically-neglected fantastic voyagers was
patched together with the remnants of an early punk band called
Swank,
when guitarist Faebhean Kwest walked out of his audition for Malcolm
McClaren. They first made a name for themselves as the Raped. They were
originally, a hard, fast, theatrical punk band, a bit like Chelsea, or
early Adam & The Ants. Three chords and lotsa shock tactics. They
practiced in an insane asylum, and played shows with groups like
Generation X, the
U.K. Subs, and Adam Ant. Sid Vicious was a big fan, and luminaries like
Iggy, Bowie, and McCartney used to come to their shows. Sean suggested the
name change to Cuddly Toys. Kwest met Marc Bolan and Gloria Jones through
some mutual friends, and Marc played him a demo of a song he'd written
with Bowie called, "Madman". Bolan reportedly dug these guys thoroughly,
in addition to Gen X and the Damned, and even discussed managing them,
sometime before his car wreck. They recorded their cover of "Madman"
at Deep Purple's studio, and some guy with a flare-gun sang background
vocals, and Spider From Mars, Woody Woodmansy, advised them how to get
that vintage Ziggy-stomp. The Cuddly Toys are the quintessential
cult-band--too eccentric, or Bowie-derivative for many, but you can
clearly see their influence on loads of the New Romantic, and even Romo-resurgence
groups, like "Be Near Me"-era ABC, "Pop Goes The World"-era Men Without
Hats - you remember--when their drummer was a snowman; Placebo; Suede; Nancy
Boy, and even Hedwig & The Angry Inch! Anorexic Teenage Sexgod/singer, Sean Purcell, was a phenomenon unto
himself. He looked just like Cherie Currie from the Runaways and he seemed
stark ravers. He might've been Alice Starr's Real Dad. He wore a tutu and
garish orange and pink make-up. Just think, "Gay Jagger", NO, REALLY gay Jagger--except he couldn't dance, like, at all. Instead, he tended to do
this really effeminate robot-mime. The band dressed like, uh, the
Founding Fathers---years and years before the Upper Crust. Listening to
this band can make one want to abuse heavy narcotics and experiment with
synthesizers. Which is ludicrous, of course, because you might like Rocky
Horror Riff-Raff under-study, Brian Eno, or Nick Rhodes, or those Skinny
Puppy dudes, but you wouldn't really want to be seen playing keyboards,
would you? No, me, neither.Were the Cuddly Toys strictly low-rent, Bogus Bowies? Yeah, but even bad Bowie was always glorious and sensational and dynamite to all us glitter rats and glam babies. I guess I should underscore the obvious again: The Cuddly Toys aren't for metal-heads. They came through the portal. I guess maybe we still need to be clear and repeat the distinction between glam, and hair-band cock-rock glam-metal. When I say glam, I mean T.Rex, and Slade, Hanoi Rocks, and maybe Cockney Rebel, not y'know, Europe or Warrant, or any of that. If you appreciate old Roxy Music, or the first cuppla Mick Ronson, or Brian Eno solo albums, or The Ultras, you'll likely love Cuddly Toys. They're pretty "out here". I think they're brilliant--like, Ronald Kohl good. Sean Purcell looked like John Taylor before John Taylor-he was the Jack Atlantis of his day. Tony the bass-player was the ringer, he just looked like your average eighties dude in a band, but drummer Paddy, and guitarist Faebhean were wizards and true stars, as well as Sean. Alot of the old English punk in-crowd detested them. They're still Big In Japan. Absolute berserkers. After their abrupt break-up, Purcell continued on as the Cuddly Toys, with some fill-in guys, and with Angie Bowie managing. Something was clearly bothering that guy. He's pretty hysterical, at times, emoting, pouting, pissy, in all this classic old footage. A neurotic boy outsider. |
|
|
|
|
| He was a little disturbed, I think. Which is alrite by me, I mean, that's probably part of their appeal. I'm not sayin' it like it's a bad thing, God knows I know wot it's like to swim out, past the breakers. You shoulda seen us, when we wuz glam. Faebhean Kwest was the spitting-image of my own guitar-hero, Mister China White, before he gave up the Rock-Dream to become a doctor, just like Haggis from the Four Horsemen. Seems like a thousand years ago, but there was a time when we were thee diamond dogs--a gang of five, a lifestyle, a commune, a family. We were like these dangerous pied-pipers, espousing personal freedom and some nutty Baptist "Concerned parents" group even accused me of being a "cult-leader". I did drink pretty heavily back then, I was sortof the bete noire of the evil cess-pool we grew-up in. The home of a tank-plant, a mall, a couple of hospitals, many mysterious chemical plants, dirty cops, crooked judges, poisoned water---the birthplace in fact, of the minority-persecuting, and union-busting secret-society funded by Henry Ford: The Black Legion. The high-school coaches even encouraged those future Marine wrestling teamsters to antagonize us. Naturally, we rebelled, loudly. |
|
| There was a point when I had so many female admirers always visiting my house, from various towns in the tri-state area, and I was ingesting so much L.S.D., that I did probably start to think of myself as some kinda free-spirited, pleasure-seeking, psychedelic-god. Hey, life's a flash, why not pursue your fantasies, follow your bliss? Me and my viking-like, barbarian brother, Nasty Bastard, kinda unintentionally, scared alot of our most beloved brethren straight. It's just as well, I suppose, had we become any more popular then we were, we'd both be dead. The Cuddly Toys were more excessive, demented, decadent, and absurd than even my own bruised band of freakish hellions. I love 'em--to me, they're like the vain, theatrical apotheosis of Ziggy-Insanity. Total inspiration! The narcissistic stuff of brittle genius. When the kids had killed the man, I had to break up the band. Sean seemed to have passed that no return psychic-equator, like me and Z, and Ace Thompson. He went Wiseblood weird. But boy could he conjure some black majick with jazz-hands, and kabuki pajamas. School-play sailor-suits, excruciatingly poor special-effects, cheap synths, and rinky-dink drum-machines...they were genuinely awe-inspiring--mainly because he was a messenger from the future, quite obviously. You'll think they're absolutely out-to-lunch when you first hear them. "Astral Joe" is so transparently, "Scream Like A Baby", for instance, but who among us hasn't taken loads of inspiration from the David Bowie-imprint, y'know? He's not a billionaire by accident, now is he? Where would Sigue Sigue Sputnik be without the Spiders From Mars? Or Andrew Eldritch, or Billy Idol, or Mike Monroe, or Alice from the Ultras, or Boy George, or Marilyn Manson, or any of us, really? | |
|
|
|
 I
think CUDDLY TOYS were probably stone prophets from tomorrow. This
is important and serious stuff we should all be paying close attention to.
Smuggled Beta-Codes from the Red Zone Of Realm Nine, the Gamma Dimension.
Can you dig it? If you have a hard time digesting the world around you, if
you're emotionally traumatized, and have a hard time connecting to shit
like war and stores and Super Bowl Sunday...if you are appalled by
video-games and cable TV, and sports and politics, and think everyone you
used to know may have been replaced by pod people, you might really dig
Sean Purcell and company's emotional, throbbing, space-rock for sensitive
things, and super-creeps. Cuddly Toys went beyond, punk, beyond glam, and
New Romantic, and New Wave. They were a sinister car crash of Gary
Glitter, Velvet Goldmine, atrocious prog-rock, Like "In The Court Of The
Crimson King", Andy Warhol, budget Sci-Fi, the loony-bin, the works. They
were the business. Don't let anyone else tell you any different! They
even encourage this paling old shadow to want to summon the Last of the
Old Faithful Die-Hards, and fire-up the mighty Saviour-Machine. They're
astonishingly great, inflamed, brilliant-high-brow new wave meets
bargain-basement glam. Way more bonkers and surreal than Bauhaus or
Specimen. Way more reviled, and usually ignored than the Adverts, or even
Slaughter & The Dogs. Total Outcasts. Forgotten Heroes. Rebels from the
29th Century. They make Duran Duran look like Crosby, Stills, and Nash. A
preposterous, inexcusable, unforgettable hodge-podge of Cocaine Bowie,T.
Rex, Jobriath, Gary Numan, Wayne County, Japan, Roxy Music, and the Sweet!
How much more, babies, can you ask? Sean Purcell, died in Ireland in 1996
of a brain tumour. Tony, Paddy, and Febhean discovered MySpace. It's a
crash-course for the ravers. Gamma Gamma Hey!
Steve and the Strays 5 Years.com Cuddly Toys -Pepsi "Brain Savior" Sheen |
|
|
__________________________________________________________________________________ Back to List Home |
|
