Conjured by SeMeN SPeRmS on July 17, 2015
Stacia joined the band in 1971; however accounts vary as to how and why she began working with the band. Liner notes to In Search of Space indicate that poet and lyricist Robert Calvert recruited her for live shows; other sources state that she was a friend of Nik Turner, saxophonist and flautist for the band. In 2012, Turner told Mojo Magazine, “I met Stacia for the first time at the Isle of Wight… She said, “Can I dance with you?” and I said, “Yeah, but you must take off all your clothes and paint your body.” She took all her clothes off but unfortunately I didn’t have any body paint. That was like her audition.” In an interview in British music magazine Melody Maker, Stacia herself stated that she attended a show and, inspired by the music, got on stage and performed an impromptu dance to the band’s music. She immediately became an integral part of the live show after joining in 1971.
According to a 1974 interview in Penthouse, Stacia was six feet (183 cm) tall and “happily bisexual”. She regularly augmented her visual impact by performing topless or nude, her body decorated in iridescent or luminescent paint. In a 2007 BBC Four documentary, Lemmy described her as 6 ft 2 inches (188 cm) tall with a 52 inch (132 cm) bust and a bookbinder by trade. The same documentary said that she was working as a petrol pump attendant in Cornwall when she joined the band.
Stacia regarded what she did with the band as interpretive dance, and was an integral part of the early to mid-1970s Hawkwind show, particularly during the Space Ritual era. She left Hawkwind in 1975 after touring with them for the Warrior on the Edge of Time album. Her departure, along with that of Lemmy (who went on to form Motörhead) and Robert Calvert, signaled the end of an era; though Calvert, after a guest appearance with the band at the Reading festival, decided to rejoin the band full-time towards the end of that year.
Conjured by SeMeN SPeRmS on June 16, 2014
Topless feminist from FEMEN stabs wax Putin in France
‘Kill Putin’ written on her bare chest
Harvard Confirms It Owns a Book Bound in ‘human skin taken from the back of a woman’
Des destinées de l’ame
A History of Tanned Human Skin
(Not talking about a suntan)
Detroit man takes road trip with dead girlfriend in the passenger seat
Naked Man High On Drugs Punched NJ Cop, Tried To Steal Police Cruiser
Electronic Deep Brain Stimulation Makes Man A Huge Johnny Cash Fan
Tapped: All the Ways Your Phone Can Be Hacked
Military Sexual Assault Prevention Officer Accused of Running On-Base Prostitution Ring
Richard Pryor plays ‘Black Death Metal’
Born in the Wild
New reality series films women giving BIRTH in the wild with no help from doctors
Internet Romance Gone Wrong
Woman buried alive after worst first date ever
A Chemist Has Uncovered A Secret To Brewing Delicious Coffee At Home
It’s The Water
James Brown Dance Lessons
Conjured by SeMeN SPeRmS on June 7, 2014
The Rodney Bingenheimer of today seems always to be smiling through a deep sadness. He is a small man who still has the youthful cuteness that must have won him friends in his early days. His hair is still combed in the same tousled mid-1970s rock star style, and his T-shirts are the real thing, not retro. He lives now in an inexpensive apartment jammed with records, tapes, discs, and countless autographed photos of his friends the stars. And, yes, they are still his friends; they have not forgotten him, and David Bowie, Cher, Debbie Harry, Courtney Love, Nancy Sinatra and Mick Jagger all appear in this film and seem genuinely fond of Rodney.
Well they might. He introduced some of them — Bowie in particular — to American radio. He was known for finding new music and playing it first: The Ramones, the Sex Pistols, the Clash, Nirvana. Stations all over the country stole their playlists from Rodney. “Sonny and Cher were kinda like my mom and my dad,” he says wistfully at one point. He ran a little club for a while, featuring British glam rock, and the stars remember with a grin that it was so small the “VIP Area” consisted simply of a velvet rope separating a few chairs from the dance floor.
The story of how Bingenheimer entered into this world is apparently true, unlikely as it sounds. As a kid he was obsessed with stars, devoured the fan magazines, collected autographs. One day when he was a teenager, his mother dropped him off in front of Connie Stevens’ house and told him he was on his own. He didn’t see his mother for another five or six years. Connie wasn’t home.
He migrated to the Sunset Strip, but instead of dying there or disappearing into drugs or crime, he simply ingratiated himself. People liked him. He hustled himself into a job as a gofer for Davy Jones of the Monkees (they looked a little alike), and then became a backstage caterer; a survivor of a Doors tour remembers a Toronto concert where Rodney had enormous platters of fresh shrimp backstage. But the Beatles were backstage visitors, and Rodney gave them the shrimp, so there were only a few left for the Doors, who had paid for them. Challenged by The Doors, Rodney shrugged and said, “Well, they’re the Beatles.”
Wherever Bingenheimer went in the music and club scene, his face was his passport. Robert Plant says, “Rodney got more girls than I do.” We hear a little of his radio show from the old days, and what comes across is not a vibrating personality or a great radio voice — it’s kind of tentative, really — but an almost painful sincerity. He loves the music he plays, and he introduces it to you like a lover he thinks is right for you. The road downhill was gradual, apparently. We get glimpses of Rodney today, repairing his mom’s old Nova with a pair of pliers, shuffling forlornly through souvenirs of his glory days. He seems very even, calm, sad but resigned, except for one moment the documentary camera is not supposed to witness, when he finds that another deejay, a person he sponsored and gave breaks to, is starting a show of new music — stealing Rodney’s gig. He explodes in anger. We’re glad he does. He has a lot to feel angry about.
The film was directed by George Hickenlooper, who made the classic doc “Hearts Of Darkness: A Filmmaker’s Apocalypse” (1991), about the nightmare of Coppola’s “Apocalypse Now,” and the wonderful fiction film “The Man From Elysian Fields” (2001). Why did he make this film (apart from the possibility that someone named Hickenlooper might feel an affinity for someone named Bingenheimer)? Hickenlooper has been around fame at an early age. He was 26 when he released the doc about the Coppola meltdown. He cast Mick Jagger and James Coburn in “Elysian Fields.” He was aware of Rodney Bingenheimer when the name still opened doors. His film evokes what the Japanese call mono no aware, which refers to the impermanence of life and the bittersweet transience of things. There is a little Rodney Bingenheimer in everyone, but you know what? Most people aren’t as lucky as Rodney. – Roger Ebert
Conjured by SeMeN SPeRmS on June 2, 2014
“Reggae: The Story of Jamaican Music” was an impressive documentary made by director Mike Connolly for the BBC.
It was originally shown in 2002 and the documentary traces the evolution of Reggae Music from Mento and Ska, all the way up to Roots, Dub, and Dancehall. The film traces the story of how Jamaica conquered the world through its music. With interviews and commentary from reggae legends this is well worth investing some of your time in watching.
Interviews include Buju Banton, Shaggy, Sly and Robbie, Capleton, Max Romero, Bunny Wailer, Jimmy Cliff, Gregory Isaacs, and many many more.
The documentary has been hard to find in recent years, and doesn’t get too many repeats, so it was with great pleasure that we found it had been made available to watch online. We have aggregated it into 3 parts below……so enjoy!
1/ TRAIN TO SKAVILLE
The early roots of reggae music, and its rise to popularity. How the music was used to recount experiences and songs of social commentary were written. In the sixties immigration from Jamaica to the UK increased and brought Jamaican music. Ska picked up a white fan base. The programme also covers both the music scene and the social climate in Jamaica during the sixties. By the end of the sixties reggae had established itself as mainstream pop music in Britain, and was increasingly recorded in this country by Dandy Livingstone, Eddy Grant and Greyhound etc.
2/ REBEL MUSIC
A look at reggae in the 1970s, when, ten years after independence from Britain and the harsh economic conditions were taking their toll, the disillusioned and dissatisfied Jamaican youth channeled their anger into roots music. The era gave rise to Bob Marley, the country’s first superstar, Lee “Scratch” Perry, reggae’s most notable producer, and King Tubby, who popularised ‘dub’, the remixing of existing records. In Britain, black youth latched on to the roots sound to create their own version, Brit reggae, with bands such as Steel Pulse and Aswad emerging.
3/ INNA DANCEHALL STYLE
Examines the progression of reggae after the death of Bob Marley, including the start of dancehall. In America reggae had a connection with hip-hop and DJ Shabba Ranks saw his popularity rise and fall. Looks at how Jamaican street styles have achieved a dominance in Britain and the rise of New Roots in Jamiaca.
Conjured by SeMeN SPeRmS on June 11, 2013
Conjured by SeMeN SPeRmS on March 5, 2013
Conjured by SeMeN SPeRmS on July 19, 2012