PIN-UP TIME: SHERILYN FENN

 

THE BLOOD RUNS DEEP: A NEW VAMPIRE ANTHOLOGY FROM VALHALLA

A new, vampire curation (from Valhalla Books) has landed upon the literary scene, equipped with a provocative cover by Jeffrey Ray Hayes. The anthology is entitled The Blood Runs Deep (Vol 2), and its 385 pages run deep with blood-thirsty thrills that will keep even the most hardened, vampire aficionados on the edge of their seats.

My friend, publisher and mentor, Ron Fortier, has a tale in The Blood Runs Deep, "Going Into Business: A Sister Blood Story." To those in the know, Sister Blood, aka Paula Wozcheski, became a parasitic vixen after being bitten by a king vampire, with the subsequent means to turn into a large, humanoid bat. In addition, she's a sexy, nocturnal cohort of Fortier's legendary, undead avenger, Brother Bones. 

For "Going Into Business," Fortier pits Sister Blood against a strong-arming pimp named Big Louie Amant, who's been killing off the competition throughout craggy Cape Noire. However, the murders are only part of the ghastly intrigue, which connects to a ghostly madam who prowls a dilapidated bordello that Sister Blood and her pulp-writer friend, Nancy Hansen, intend to refurbish.

Fortier's story offers heaps of action and scares, and his fine fable is joined by comparable, lurid contributions from Dacre (Dracula, the Un-Dead) Stoker (Bram's great grand nephew), Jonathan Mayberry, Bobby Nash, Teel James Glenn, Josh Vasquez, Paige Steadman, Christopher Soucy, Jamie Ramos, Ellie Raine, Candace Nola, Adam Messer, Thomas Houston, Suzanne Allen, Retta Bodhaine, Josh Vasquez, Kim Marie Farris and Winfield Strock III (who also edited the volume). 

For those into vampire fiction, The Blood Runs Deep should be a dream (or make that, a satisfying scream) come true!

The Blood Runs Deep (Vol 2) is available in paperback and on Kindle at 

https://www.amazon.com/Blood-Valhalla-Books-presents-Horror/dp/B0D8TWKC74/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=

WISE WORDS:

AMAZING MEET PROJECT: HOMELESS MUSIC

Amazing Meet Project, formed and helmed by Love in Reverse's Michael Ferentino and Andres Karu, treats listeners to Homeless Music, a revived oldie-but-goodie for any wandering soul who calls everywhere and anywhere home. From the opposite end (for those still stuck in a shackled cell), Homeless Music recommends cutting ties to be individualized. (On the whole, the album is quite a positive venture, offering accordant advice that diminishes mischance, prejudice and anchoring loss.) 

The album percolates in three, behavioral parts (set apart by three, spoken intros).

Part 1: 

"The Best Thing Yet" is an anthem for betterment, and Ferentino belts it out with assurance (and maybe a little sarcasm). Cerebral commercialism is the ticket here, and with the right perspective (the right, Oliver Twist, magnitude of heart), why not stand in line and ask for more, as long as "the next big thing" fills one's plate? 

"Karma Suture" sets the harmonic pivot, crossing metaphoric bridges to find one's ideal malaise. To achieve this, Ferentino explores the "other side of the unknown," tossing useless tokens and faux leads into the ocean, to attain the orgasmic truth. 

"Immortalized" is an acceptance of one's accumulated wrongs (and rights). It references the critics who've been validated by one's failures, but also insists on holding one's ground. In this regard, one must work "goddamn hard" to nurture one's pride, in that pride has the power to demolish derision (i.e. the enslaving ordinary). 

"Another" is about gaining a second (or third or fourth ...) chance. It appreciates the inspiration that any significant other may offer, but like "Immortalized," recommends refusing the offers, choosing instead to stuff one's coffer with autonomous flavor. 

"Still On My Mind" scrutinizes the rejected, along with their cheap opposition and well-meaning lies. It's about the emotions memories carry, and how one's past (the people one meets) make one compete in the hurly-burly of life. Competition is a good thing, or so the song implies, for it delineates one's character. (Indeed, not everyone can penetrate one's dreams, but some do stay on one's mind, which only goes to show that any relationship, whether long or short, forms a lasting impression.)

"Unmovable" is about digging in one's heels to curb those indelible impressions. As such, the track ruminates on the "night after night" pros and cons of conviction and why these vantages often feel impractical, if not unreal.

Part 2:

"Girl 16" poises a real sweet start to the album's center. This one is disco-esque in its obsessive appraisal. In the track's mirthful melody, one may find such a crutch isn't so bad, if the girl in question proves fetching enough. 

"Sunshined" carries a strumming beat, but soon flips its ambiance, covering the draining rapture, inertia and rage of an enticing "devil in strawberry." Be warned: Sunshine, like any appetizer, may please, but somewhere down the line, it has the potential to burn like hell. 

"Paxil" details the loving yet contemptuous best and worst in folks, and if a sorrowful (apologetic) chunk should float to the top, watch out. Pills (and the acts they spur) are at best a placebic Band-Aid. 

"God, If There Was One ..." initiates a plea to a high elemental that may or not hold the answers one needs to decipher direction and shame, not to mention the sequelized (in)sanity that all impassioned beseeching brings.   

"Whiting Is Burning" is a catchy, global proclamation, its sway merry and keen as it encourages the populace to speak up and be heard before a situation crumbles. It also gleans the phoenix-like mysticism of listening, for it's through this innate, communal act that even the roughest rifts are cleaned. 

"Love Can Make You Sorry" dives back into the rueful heart. Soft self-reflection surfaces, as Ferentino taps years prior. The composition creates a jazzy climate, recalling a child-like time devoid of money and occupation. Its idyllic mission is impractical in light of life's demands and explains how fondness' ruined residue may linger, as long as smiles conceal the tears.  

Part 3: 

"First One" is a reflection on lost love, but only for as long as the aforementioned attachments stand. One must follow the voice in one's head, if one is ever to conquer one's recycled feelings. 

"Unidentified" hits the ambivalence that plagues the tedious process of waiting, but moreover, discusses how pointing the finger at others is not as beneficial as pointing it at oneself. 

"This Old Story" cries for vindication, resting upon a crafty crest that's tuneful and fast. It asks for proverbial pats on the back, as it assesses all the grand things one's done, even if the outcomes have come undone.   

"Black Label" is a beer-induced novelty. Its quality is able, jiggly and resistant, praising the half-blind euphoria that shameless fakery will induce. 

"Antonio" recalls a gentler side, an ode to a surrogate brother who lived in poverty and defeat, and yet through the downtrodden journey, achieved a humble glory that eclipsed his disgrace. 

"Something Strange" is the compilation's send-off. Like "Girl 16," "Whiting is Burning" and "Black Label," it brackets everyday events with facetious, Sid & Marty Krofft jubilation, shrugging off stuff-shirt regulations for quixotic quests, the type of uninhibited liberation that blooms when strangeness is met. 

Thanks to its psychological balance, Homeless Music is an existential epic. To listen to it is to soar, search, repent and most importantly, be grateful for the extrication that constitutes being human.

Meet the ambitious project at 

https://orcd.co/homelessmusic    

FOR THE FUN OF IT:

 

I saw Beverly Hills Cop IV

 

Axel Foley has at long last returned to the spotlight in Beverly Hills Cop: Axel F, the fourth installment in the popular franchise, excluding the unaired/leaked, "Son of ..." pilot. The Netflix release was directed by Mark Molloy and written by Will Beall, Kevin Etton and Tom Gormican, who've made certain the heat is on and even more energized than before.

In addition to Eddie Murphy reprising his famous role, Axel's old pals return in significant, supporting capacities: Paul Reiser's Jeffery Friedman (now a Deputy Chief); John Ashton's Chief John Taggert; Judge Reinhold's Billy Rosewood (retired but still on the job); and Bronson Pinchot's Serge. 

Joining them is Taylour Paige's Jane Saunders, Axel's estranged, attorney daughter; Joseph Gordon-Levitt's Det. Bobby Abbott (Jane's ex); Luz Guzman's cartel-linked Chalino; Kyle S. More's Det. Mike Woody; and Kevin Bacon's Captain Cade Grant, the movie's main villain. 

The plot concerns Foley's daughter being assigned to a case in which a young man (Damien Diaz) has been framed for an officer's death. The frame-up ties to a cocaine ring, which Grant helms. (Bacon, who's played a number of villains in the recent years, is quite suave and chilling in his role, making it easy to root against him at every conniving turn.) Foley learns of the situation through Rosewood and heads from the Motor City to Beverly Hills to assist his daughter, but soon finds the quandary more complicated than expected. 

Much of the movie plays like prior, Beverly Hills Cop chapters, with a buddy motif connecting the pieces, but in this case is more a daddy-daughter dynamic, with Abbott occupying the action parts. Whether with Foley/Saunders or Foley/Abbott, the quips come fast, overlapping sentimentality with a pleasant crassness that defines this series. 

The action sequences are first-rate, in particular a madcap, stolen-helicopter escapade. The old tunes accompany the action well, pouring welcome nostalgia over the elaborate smash-ups.

Without question, Axel F is as entertaining as its predecessors (working plenty of comedic, neo-pulp charm along the way) and is good enough to have earned a big-screen release. I give Netflix a ton of credit, though, for putting this one in the forefront. If you enjoy the Beverly Hills Cop franchise, you gotta see Axel F--and see it now! This is a quality resurgence, so satisfying that it wouldn't be at all surprising if Netflix dished fans a Part V. 

TERRIFIC TEAM-UP IMAGE: DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE

 

As the World Comes Apart ...

As the world comes apart at the seams (with suffocating inflation, endless children enslaved and another world war looming), my "peers" are content to criticize an actor's Superman suit for a movie that's still in its rough phases. For the sake of their global views, their quips are at best pyrrhic and bound by a typical, uninformed arrogance that makes me want to pound them into the ground.

Listen, there's nothing wrong with offering an "opinion," dishing up a reflective blog or being passionate or concerned about an artistic venue, a beloved character or editorial view, but such ad-nauseum, unsubstantiated, cry-baby, day-after-day, retreaded denouncements and exaltations on either the "profound" or the "whimsical" aren't endearing or helpful. They're irritating, to the point that I believe Bill Shatner summed it up best when he said,  

PIN-UP TIME: SHERILYN FENN IS AUDREY HORNE

CLINTFLICK'S RAWK AND ROLL: SOUNDS FOR A SWELTERING SUMMER

Michael Ferentino and Mangabros have merged to form Clintflick. Clintflink's efforts represent (at least to my ears and mind's eye) the summer ... the advent and core of a raw, raucous summer.

The album, Rawk and Roll, captures the season with harsh sincerity, each phase conjuring scenes and moods that tap a palpable and sweltering sector.

"CF Skrog" is the prodding instigator, where a bodacious beat and dialing murmur lures one into the allegorical flames. Ferentino can be heard within the track's heart, singing slices of "Dancing in the Streets." But this cover doesn't stoke the fun of Jagger and Bowie, but rather an ominous descent, a troubling haze, a wretched worry and maybe, just maybe, the advent of war. 

This belligerent surge is pushed even further by the brilliant segue, "Stiltedhumpskin," a bouncing tune that begins with a chic groove, but the settlement is Boorman's Deliverance, Hill's The Warriors and Carpenter's Assault on Precinct 13. A modern western opens, of merciless voyage and attack, of frightful fortification and switchblade rap. It's a disguised, bemoaning, horror movie mounted through the trenches of (un)reality.

"Eunuchopia" is that shivering reduction that comes when one begs for lenience. Within the forbidding, sacrificial, guitar chords, one swaps virility for a tight, fetid corner, watching, waiting like a scared rabbit, until the dark dust clears. 

"Hummer Infinitrum...Vacuum Mob" represents the dawn, but even though the sun shines, it just beams more mechanized doom. Ferentino whines; the sounds grind. The heat increases, and to worsen matters, the atmosphere is now mobbed and militarized, with each opposing philosophy discharged from every torturous angle. 

The weather report predicts a "Mushroom Slider." The heat has slid under one's skin, and now beeps and curls in one's head. One exists as a streak of dripping perspiration, exploding/imploding high and low, the result of a tough transmission spewed from an uncaring, bureaucratic blow. One hears a foreign tongue. Nothing makes sense, and yet everything does. It's the end of the world, and it sure as hell won't be fine. 

One searches for help, for clarity, and lo and behold, there she stands at the alley of Madness & Divine, a Corman-concocted beauty who's swaying configuration offers something cool, but her head--her damn face--has melted away! It's too late! The "Wasp Girl" has passed her bait, and the result is venereal hell.

One can only hobble away, itching to an adopted "Germ Song." Yes, one is infected, and the unceasing sun bakes that infection in. Taunting babies cry, encouraging the electrified, bass-bound sting to spread, but who (beyond its evident host) wants the magnanimous sweat?

In the inadvertent "New Church of the Anti-Everything," the answer rings clear. Summer is an all-contemptuous virus that everyone must catch. One can only bow before it, not as a eunuch or warrior, but rather as a common victim with a deep, parched heart. And with this, Clintflick's chanting, nihilistic hymn thuds through the slumlord halls of fear, instilling another scorching day and inside that, another thirsty prison.  

There's no better way to experience the summer than consuming Rawk And Roll. Make it your seasonal soundtrack, your blistering adage, your survivalist creed: 

https://orcd.co/rawkandroll

WISE WORDS:

RAVENWOOD, STEPSON OF MYSTERY #5: AVAILABLE NOW!

Airship 27 Productions' Ravenwood, Stepson of Mystery Vol 5 (the 300th title released by the venerable, New Pulp company) is selling well, allowing the occult detective to gain more exposure than ever before. 

For the latest volume, there are three fables included: Dexter Fabi's novella, Dervish in the Night and two short stories, Carson Demmons' "The Past Repeats Itself, but There is More than One Past" and Michael F. Housel's "A Devil by Any Other Name." The volume's moody, cover artwork is by Adam Shaw and the captivating interiors by Sam Salas.  

Airship 27 has done a commendable job reviving Frederick C. Davis' crimefighting mystic. In fact, the resurrection has been so successful that there are now more Airship 27, Ravenwood yarns than Davis penned back in the 1930s, when the character acted as a unique "filler" for Secret Agent X. 

Airship 27's Ravenwood, Stepson of Mystery volumes can be "channeled" through Amazon and Barnes & Noble, among other reliable retailers. For those who fancy spinetingling tales of ethereal intrigue, Ravenwood will definitely please. Give any volume a try, and you'll see!