Categories
Boppin'

UNFINISHED AND ABANDONED: The Comic Book Telephone Pitches, Part 2

YOU REMEMBER LAST TIME, when I talked about my aborted telephone pitch to write for Harvey Comics. Let’s pick up that story with my second and final attempt to sell my writing via a phone call to a comics publisher….

Revolutionary Comics was a comics publisher begun in 1989 by Todd Loren, commencing with its first (and initially only) series Rock ‘n’ Roll Comics. Each issue of Rock ‘n’ Roll Comics was an unauthorized biography of a rock or pop performer, beginning with Guns N’ Roses in Rock ‘n’ Roll Comics # 1. Eventually billing itself as “unauthorized and proud of it,” Rock ‘n’ Roll Comics survived attempted lawsuits and continued to cover acts ranging from New Kids On The Block to The Sex Pistols.

Rock ‘n’ roll. Comic books. Well! I figured I could write that!

It was probably 1990 or ’91 (no later) when I called Todd Loren to pitch him on the idea of humble li’l me writing for Rock ‘n’ Roll Comics. My writing resumé was a tiny bit fatter than it had been when I pitched to Harvey Comics a few years before, and while it still didn’t include any fiction sales, it did include nonfiction rock writing. And I knew just the band I would most want to cover in Rock ‘n’ Roll Comics. I’m sure you know it, too.

The Monkees.

Loren was not interested in that.

This was a few years after the MTV-fed resurgent Monkeemania of 1986. By the dawn of the ’90s, most folks figured that The Monkees had fully used up their fifteen minutes of fame, and then used it up again, with little likelihood of a third quarter-hour looming. I knew better, at least on an artistic level. I believed that The Monkees’ recorded and pop cultural legacies were underrated, and well deserving of examination and exploration. On those grounds, The Monkees would have been ideal candidates for study in an issue of Rock ‘n’ Roll Comics.

But on a commercial level, in the early ’90s? I have to concede that Loren was probably correct in his decision to pass on the idea. It would have sold in 1986 or ’87; it was, at best, an uncertain prospect in 1990 or ’91. 

With the pitch shot down, I never did any work on the idea of a comic-book biography of The Monkees. If I had been able to do it, I would have wanted it to read in a more compelling manner than the actual issues of Rock ‘n’ Roll Comics I’d seen up to that point. My ability to pull off such an ambition is in question, but I would have hoped to tell the story in a way that somehow incorporated the quick cuts and absurdity of the TV series and recreated them on the printed page, to convey the notion that The Monkees were more than a mere prefab four, that The Monkees were important, that The Monkees mattered.

Loren was a bit more open to my secondary idea of a comic-book biography of The Ramones, but not interested enough to commit to it. We parted amicably, but there was clearly no path there for me to get work with Revolutionary Comics.

Todd Loren

Todd Loren’s own life came to a tragic, lurid end, as he was stabbed to death at home in 1992. Loren was 32 years old, born three days before I was. Loren was gay, and he was (per Wikipedia) “well known in San Diego’s gay social circles.” Those circles included Andrew Cunanin, who later became infamous for committing five (known) murders in 1997, including the murder of fashion designer Gianni Versace. Some have speculated that Cunanin could also have been Loren’s murderer. Loren’s murder case remains unsolved. Cunanin committed suicide before he could be captured, and is now presumed to reside in Hell.

The Revolutionary line (including Rock ‘n’ Roll Comics) continued for a short time after Loren’s death, finally closing up shop in 1994. I had no further contact with Revolutionary after that single phone call to Todd Loren. 

I do still think there’s a market for a Monkees comic book. It may be a niche market, or it may be larger than that, but the market exists; I’m certain of it. The Monkees’ fabulous 2016 album Good Times! was a # 1 hit, fercryinoutloud. Monkees fandom is under-served. We deserve better.


The Monkees’ only latter-day comic-book appearance was a guest spot in The Archies # 4 in 2018, a welcome tribute to the benevolent vibe of Micky, Davy, Peter, and Michael. I wish for an ongoing Monkees comic book series, even if I’m not the one who gets to write it. There should also be a Batman Meets The Monkees story. And I have a specific idea for a Monkees mini-series that I’m a little surprised no one’s proposed yet. I probably won’t have any plausible opportunity to write any of this, but a guy can dream.

Decades after all those failed attempts to break into comics, I’ve finally made my first sales, with three prose short stories sold to AHOY Comics. One of ’em is a rock ‘n’ roll story. I’d still like to write some comics. I have ideas. Some may be worth developing. Some, alas, will remain unfinished and abandoned.

TIP THE BLOGGER: CC’s Tip Jar!

You can support this blog by becoming a patron on Patreon: Fund me, baby! 
Fans of pop music will want to check out Waterloo Sunset–Benefit For This Is Rock ‘n’ Roll Radio, a new pop compilation benefiting SPARK! Syracuse, the home of This Is Rock ‘n’ Roll Radio with Dana & CarlTIR’N’RR Allstars–Steve StoeckelBruce GordonJoel TinnelStacy CarsonEytan MirskyTeresa CowlesDan PavelichIrene Peña, Keith Klingensmith, and Rich Firestone–offer a fantastic new version of The Kinks’ classic “Waterloo Sunset.” That’s supplemented by eleven more tracks (plus a hidden bonus track), including previously-unreleased gems from The Click BeetlesEytan MirskyPop Co-OpIrene PeñaMichael Slawter (covering The Posies), and The Anderson Council (covering XTC), a new remix of “Infinite Soul” by The Grip Weeds, and familiar TIRnRR Fave Raves by Vegas With RandolphGretchen’s WheelThe Armoires, and Pacific Soul Ltd. Oh, and that mystery bonus track? It’s exquisite. You need this. You’re buying it from Futureman.
Hey, Carl’s writin’ a book! The Greatest Record Ever Made! (Volume 1) will contain 100 essays (and then some) about 100 tracks, plus two bonus instrumentals, each one of ’em THE greatest record ever made. An infinite number of records can each be the greatest record ever made, as long as they take turns. Updated initial information can be seen here: THE GREATEST RECORD EVER MADE! (Volume 1)

Our most recent compilation CDThis Is Rock ‘n’ Roll Radio, Volume 4 is still available from Kool Kat Musik! 29 tracks of irresistible rockin’ pop, starring Pop Co-OpRay PaulCirce Link & Christian NesmithVegas With Randolph Featuring Lannie FlowersThe SlapbacksP. HuxIrene PeñaMichael Oliver & the Sacred Band Featuring Dave MerrittThe RubinoosStepford KnivesThe Grip WeedsPopdudesRonnie DarkThe FlashcubesChris von SneidernThe Bottle Kids1.4.5.The SmithereensPaul Collins’ BeatThe Hit SquadThe RulersThe Legal MattersMaura & the Bright LightsLisa Mychols, and Mr. Encrypto & the CyphersYou gotta have it, so order it here. A digital download version (minus The Smithereens’ track) is also available from Futureman Records

Categories
Boppin'

To Beat Or Not To Beat

Call me a bundle of nerves. Call me a frustrated Ringo Starr. Most people just call me annoying, because I can’t stop drumming. I don’t mean sitting at a drum kit, bashin’ away while a garage band of my peers stumbles through a gloriously inept approximation of “(I’m Not Your) Steppin’ Stone.” That would be great! No, the vehicles of my percussive assaults are counter tops, tables, even my own legs if I happen to be sitting down. Maybe there’s actually a song playing, as I attempt to keep time with it in my own inherently flawed fashion; often, it’s just an imaginary song in my head. Either way, I try to play along. Badly. And it pisses people off.

When did this start? Probably when I was a teenager, I guess, though maybe earlier. I did receive a set of bongos from my great grandmother’s husband in 1968, when I was eight years old, and I certainly enjoyed pounding those pagan skins. About a decade later, I would take those bongos with me to college and go on to become percussionist for internationally obscure jazz combo Bud Mackintaw & the Skeeters (but that’s another story).

I’ve generally drummed by hand–it’s the bongo player in me–but I’ve owned drumsticks, too. My first sticks were castoffs from real drummers playing live rock ‘n’ roll, projectiles that slipped through the grips of Tommy Allen of The FlashcubesBarry Whitwam of Herman’s Hermits, or Martin Chambers of The Pretenders, among others. I also bought myself a pair of drumsticks somewhere in there because…I dunno. I just wanted to participate. I wanted to be a musician. A guitarist. A singer. Something. Drumming was the easiest thing to fake.

For all that, I’ve never even sat at a drum kit, not once, not ever. It almost happened one time in college, when my roommate Paul and I were working on a campus radio station commercial for a local chicken wing place called Munchies. Trust me, Munchies had the best Buffalo wings imaginable, and I wrote a radio commercial celebrating that rainbow of spice (from mild to abusive and even nuclear), all to the tune of “(Theme From) The Monkees:” Hey hey, we’re the Munchies! Clever? That’s me! There was a drum kit available for our use in producing the commercial, and Paul suggested I handle the percussion. I protested that I wasn’t really a drummer, but Paul said what the hell, I could keep time adequately when attacking a chair with my sticks to provide rhythmic accompaniment to Blondie‘s “Accidents Never Happen” back at the dorm, so, y’know, good enough. Well, fine by me! But scheduling complications and technical issues in the production room scuttled the whole thing.

My attempts at drumming have mostly been a source of tension and discord for those around me. The night before our wedding in 1984, my bride-to-be Brenda and I went out with a bunch of pals for drinks and merriment. There was fun! There was camaraderie! There was beer! There was music, which meant there was me, drummin’ on the table with manic glee. And there were the unaffiliated folks at the next table over, angrily insisting I cease that infernal pounding. Brenda thought it was hilarious.

After decades of complaints, I’ve grown tired of it all. Over the past few weeks, I’ve been making a conscious effort to curtail the drumming. It’s difficult, because the rhythmic impulse is ingrained within me, in spite of my lack of discernible prowess. But I’m trying. People hate to hear me pounding on counters, and I understand that. It’s a flaw in my character. I don’t think it’s quite as heinous as some character flaws I don’t exhibit, like smoking, or farting, or talking during a movie, or voting for Trump. But I have to grudgingly admit that it’s a character flaw nonetheless. I fall so far short of being who I wish I could be. I talk too fast. I don’t enunciate with sufficient clarity. I drum. But I’m trying to fit in better. I’m trying not to be an annoyance. I’m trying.

I’m not giving up air guitar, though. Let’s not get crazy. Some concessions are simply too much to ask.