The Waldos
Rent Party
Sympathy For the Record Industry, 1994
By: Pepsi
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Sadly, it's only trust fund kids from showbiz dynasties or the junkie prostitutes who co-habitate in their upscale lofts who can afford to pay the insanely jacked-up rent in the loathsome, Starbucks-ridden. post-Guilliani, yuppie Manhattan-so most of today's tinsel trash have to commute in on the weekends from the boroughs. In contrast to the Forbes/Haring/Kostabi era of the mid-eighties when I lived there, the bridge and tunnel crowd of today are usually a lot cooler than the intern-apprentice-office shlubs and model/secretaries who now occupy the downtown area of Trump's sold-out city. My last few dwindling, nauseatingly mobile, East Side dwelling associates have all been ragging to me about how lame legendary Heartbreaker, Walter Lure's more recent performances have been, implying that he's somehow undeserving of the enthusiastic fanfare his more recent revolving door roll-call still often receive from the rabid Cult-Of-Thunders, and that he's often lacklustre, even lazy, onstage, just goin' through the motions. I can't say firsthand, cos low-rent hoods like me can't remotely afford to swan around in New York town proper, anymore. I haven't caught a glimpse of the Waldos in I dunno, at least eight or nine years, or longer than that---not since the original, classic line-up were all still alive. I'm just repeating junk I heard from string-ties 'round the campfire. Apparently, the Waldos now feature Uncle Walt, Todd Youth from Murphy's Law, and a mean buncha teen punk Asian boys in Converse and white t-shirts , ala the Hip Nips, or American Soul Spiders/Teengenerate/Firestarter, who pogo dutifully through long-flogged dead horse renditions of "Too Much Junkie Business" and "Chinese Rocks", but what more would anyone expect from this leering, old snow-capped stockbroker by day? As long as HE'S still havin' fun...! All his brash and brassy brethren have all gone onto the back room of Max's Kansas City-in-the-sky. JT, Niggs, Tony Coiro, Jamie Heath, his brother Ritchie, Arthur, Stiv, Joey, Dee Dee, Johnny, Charlie Sox, and on and on and on-which side are you on? I can relate to how challenging it can be to keep "representing" when the old gang's all dead or gone. So many of my homies are dead, for real, you'd think I was a gangsta rapper. So no matter how half-hearted, or creepy you might find Uncle Walter, cut 'im a little slack -nobody forced you come-lately punters to pay the cover charge and stand in the front row taking pictures with your digital camera, now did they, and if you just came to show-off your new Adverts t-shirt, then, why bitch and moan?  
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