And if memory serves John Cale scored the music for " The Tingler" , or
parts of the score and if it isn't " The Tingler" and i'm all scuffed
in my memory than it is another Vincent Price gem from the 60's that
Cale scored. I have them at home. What Ho medievalists, The Price is
Right !

Craig Chalone


Quoting Gary Lucas <gary@...>:

> The obverse of the preceeding end 'o year encomiums...encompassing
> some of the worst trends and developments I've observed and/or
> suffered through (Poooor Gary!):
>
> 1. Bush--had a whack at his daddy and his Iraq interventionist
> policies on my first Gods and Monsters album in '92 in the form of a
> jaunty little number entitled "Whip Named Lash" (sung by Rolo from
> The Woodentops, who I hear tell have reformed--wot, with Benny
> Staples and Alice?) Thurston Moore put it up awhile ago on one of his
> agit-prop sites, so now I'm gonna boot it up into the free mp3
> downloads section on my homepage soon as it's needed now more than
> ever (or not, UB da judge, yah boooo)...as the Last Poets so
> eloquently put it: THIS IS MADNESS, people...geopolitical world
> historical events spiraling so ugly out-of-control that if it weren't
> for japesters like Jon Stewart, Larry David, Ali G, Dave Chappelle and
> a coupla boxes of old SCTV clips to provide me with a few nourishing,
> life sustaining g! uffaws on a daily basis, I'd...I'd... (just
> kidding).
>
> 2. Lifeless cultural artifacts abounding 'pon the greensward of
> life--freeze-dried, second-hand simulacra of the numinous...on close
> inspection 'taint it true that very, very, VERY few current films,
> plays, musical tunes, novels, cell phone ringtones even (apart from
> the Crazy Frog of course) provide one with that certain pleasurable,
> involuntary spinal ting ting tingle that Nabokov maintained was the
> thinking person's own inner bullshit detector registering the
> relative artistic worth/merit/longterm duree of the objet in
> question. Perhaps that's where Rob White, William Castle's inventive
> scenarist/wholesale appropriator/retailer of whatever horror film
> thema swirled about in the early 60's zeitgeist, lifted his creative
> creature concept for "The Tingler"--perhaps. A great underrated
> Castle film (not an actual Castle Film--remember them? Used to
> project all the Universal '30s horror greats in edited 8mm Cast! le
> Film prints in my basement, to the delight of my chums), "The Tingl
> er" features an epicene Vincent Price injecting himself with LSD-25
> in a locked room in his mortuary in order to best arouse his
> innermost demons to fester bester tester his theory that the (one
> would have thought intangible) quality of human fear can actually
> transmogrify itself into a large, scaly lizard he so scientifically
> dubs The Tingler (yeeha!), a phantasm that lurks, somnambulant and
> miniscule (kinda like phlogiston) within one's spinal column, to grow
> larger and more ferociously palpable as one becomes progressively more
> frightened--and that a person's ability to scream cathartic screams
> will (but of course!) shrink the lizard back down to
> nothingness...and should (for the sake of a silly plot point) one be
> unable to scream if one was tragically born a mute (lotsa mutes and
> faux mutes populate the dark side of Hollywood, going back to oh,
> say, the original "Unholy Three"), said inability to sing like a
> canary would result in The Tingler growing so large within one'! s
> spinal column as to snap one's vertebrae. Life tingles ...and then
> you die. A proto Alien actually. (The Enemy Within). Cronenberg fans
> take note. Nothing to fear but fear itself...Sorta the obverse of
> Vlad the Butterfly Impaler's spinal seismograph, where the work in
> question...let's posit Terry Southern's oft-cited "quality lit"
> genre, for the nonce--would automatically register itself as Quality
> PER SE upon close reading, courtesy of a pleasurable spinal frisson,
> rictus, or spasm. As Wyndham Lewis wrote: "Laughter is the mind
> sneezing". The headbone connects to da--backbone!
>
> Now I gotta go take a tingle...
>
> 3. The ongoing destruction of my nabe by greedy realtors--I refer to
> the extreme west village of Manhattan, north of Christopher Street,
> below 14th. You may well know the area, and the story ('s an old
> story). Here the Village Green Preservation Society may yet prove a
> little too toothless, and a little too late, in their valiant
> attempts to r! oll back, King Canute-like, the rising tide of
> development, but really , how can one stop the under-the-table
> exchange of coin that fuels such urban renewal scams? If there was
> true love for the beauty of the past, perhaps 'twas possible. But not
> in this gilded age. Sic transit gloria blah blah. Resulting in the
> semi-destruction of the character of the very neighborhood that
> enticed me to live here for some 29 years. Sturdy old nineteenth
> century warehouses at the edge of Perry and West Streets replaced
> with 3-count them-3 hideous Richard Meir designed steel and glass
> luxury co-op towers that look like retro updates (but barely) of 50's
> Park Avenue corporate highrises (think of the frigid style moderne of
> Jacques Tati's "Playtime", and you wouldn't be far off the mark). And
> please don't start me on the Gansevoort Hotel (in beautiful
> "Heinkenplein"). And to the utter surprise (and schadenfreude of le
> guttersnipe internationale), many of the folks who leaped in to
> occupy said million dollar-plus co-ops (Martha Stewart, Calvin Klein,
> and--hey hey ! hey-- Vinnie "Neocon" Gallo) have found their brand new
> apts. plagued with much faulty plumbing, wiring, leaks, and
> floods...one might surmise that the ghosts of the many long departed
> souls who once frequented the very same docks that these highrises
> have replaced are restless, and enjoying themselves... The new
> pedestrian piers, playgrounds, and riverwalk that replaced the old
> docks are delightful to stroll, true, but of course, a chachun son
> goute. Like Guy Debord, who used to literally roll and revel in the
> mud of obscure parts of old Paris in an alcoholic swoon ( nostalgie
> de la boue actuelle), or Jonathan Richman, for that matter-- "I still
> love the Old World".
>
> Forward...
>
> xxGary
>
> --
> Posted by Gary Lucas to Gary Lucas[1] at 1/06/2006 08:42:00 AM
>
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