Goodbye old Kaleidoscope haunt, home, and heart.

In 1972, my dad and his new (and still together after all these years) wife were passing through The Queen City on their way back north. They drove by this little stucco building, saw a for rent sign, and opened a record store. It didn't happen that fast but on opening day it took a long while for anyone to waltz through the door. Wunderle was one of the first customers. He was a neighbor and I like to think he just waited and waited for it to open. Kaleidoscope became the record store in town. It was a haunt, a home (for me from 1972 -73, I lived upstairs), a heart.

The store became the center of a thriving music community. The Ozark Mountain Daredevils were the store's softball team. Chicks from the Minstrels worked there. Wunderle, Rick Nivens, Dave Milner, Jim Lewis, Mary and Maureen Gollub, Kelly H'Doubler, Pam Babcock, Cathy Stevens, Don Freeman, Dave Day and so many more were the people I grew up around. The people that enriched my life and made growing up the coolest thing I could ever do. Mounds of records came home. I listened to everything my dad would haul and my collection grew and grew. I couldn't get enough of the first Dire Straits album.

There were giant Costello posters, Police posters, Foghat took up a good wall for a long time. The Nitty Gritty Dirtband did an instore. It was the best place to be. So Lester Bangs. Wild. Outrageous. Just to be around some aspect of the record business in the 1970s was a mad experience and when I turned 15, I was able to work at a new store that the folks opened on the north side. I spent most of my time there listening to the Clash, making t-shirts, and fucking off down at the Sip n' Flip in front of a Defender cabaret. That store eventually closed. More people moved in and out of the main store and in 1983, Kaleidoscope sold its last record. I know that the last new release was Rush's Signals. Perhaps the store just couldn't take that kind of punishment.

The store became a kind of new wave haunt. Fashion shows, a hair boutique upstairs where all the leather, jewelry, Fabulous Furry Freak comics, and rolling papers had been. New employees like the great Bill Brown brought more music cred back to the store. Nothing stayed the same for long. Items moved, went, staff grew and shrunk. In times of personal economic strife I was allowed to work there as long as I kept busy and didn't drink too much. My sister began working there and asserted herself as one of the best people you could work for or with.

A few years back, the lease wasn't renewed on the old store and the folks moved to a new location 30ft east. Something bigger and greater than the old place but you only had to walk out the front door to see the old beaut. To see it occupied by people who didn't give a shit about it hurt. To see it gradually decay became a daily experience

Today, it was torn down. My sister found a little piece to have my uncle put in silver. A keepsake, something close to her heart. Just like that old building must be to so many people in The Queen City.

I'd like to thank everyone who ever worked there, shopped there, felt it, fucked in it, or made it part of their lives for only a moment. It was a beautiful place.

ap - 2009

The Queen City punks

There were always good rock/punk/power bands in Springfield and this town was never decades or years behind the punk rock thing. In fact it has a pretty powerful history starting from the first tier old school bands.

During times of less activity there were always a few bands carrying on around here. Don't forget that the New York Dolls opened for Lynyrd Skynyrd at the old Walnut Bowl many years ago. I bet that was an interesting show. And the Ramones played here in 1978 (remember you guys?). Talking Heads were in Joplin around this time too. Social Distortion many times. PIL, etc.. Springfield had an all girl punk band way back in 75, The Debs (that's the same time The Runaways were in L.A.) The Debs were great. Fools Face was much rougher in those days almost bringing CedarShake (is that what it was called?) down to the ground a coupla times. Rudy and the Razors, Symptoms, Resonance, Man About Town, The Limit, The Royal Nonesuch and others were all beating their drums at the same time everything else all over the world was happening.

Here are a few more bands that should be mentioned that carried on along here through the course of our times: The Fabulous Flaming Balls, Monsterbox, Johnny Quest, Walking Octopus, the Jim-Bobs, Jesus Lee Jones, Remnants, Luvhandles, Cheerleaders, Redundants, Results, Thee Fine lines (who you can hear on Little Steven's Underground Garage on occassion), Rabbi Sputnick, any band with Lou Whitney and D. Clinton Thompson, Wunderle's bands of any ilk.

You could go on and on to the bands that inhabit the rock needs around here to this day, you know who they are. Don't forget our own Annette Weatherman was in London taking pictures of the Buzzcocks, Pistols, etc. and getting chummy with the Clash and Adam and the Ants (don't laugh if you don't know how punk the early Ants were). IT's all here baby. Forgive me for not remembering all the old bands and mentioning all the new bands that are here and who gave a nod to real punk rock, the kind that was inclusive, original, varied, non-misogynistic, and non-racist. That's why, even though a few of those bands were good, the hardcore scene left me cold and it quickly became an excuse for knuckleheads to get in fights. That's why a lot of the cool bands around during the same time didn't want much to do with that scene. It always struck me as kind of weak that a bunch of nazi skinheads would make a racket here, where there are hardly any African-Americans or Jewish Americans to blame. So it turned into the racist bands/fans versus the rest. Recipe for lameness in my view. For me, the hardcore (?) scene that was here in Springfield was a blip on a much bigger and fruitful map of local rockers/punk rockers - whatever you want to call it.

ss - 2009

Bill Brown - There's the man I want to see right there!

My friend Bill Brown died in a fire a few years ago along with his friend Don Shipps. It was a really horrific fire. Bill’s service was meager while Don’s was a full Catholic send off. The Knights of Columbus have really groovy hats. The Groovy Hats, that should be their band name. A giant wake was held in Bill and Don's honor at the Shrine Mosque to celebrate their lives and their contribution to the local music scene. These guys contributed a lot. Don was the blues staple in the Queen City. He played with everybody. Bill came up in rock and power pop bands like The Misstakes and eventually was a member of The Ozark Mountain Daredevils and The Bluesberries and Don Shipps and the Titanic Blues Band. Bill taught me how to play guitar.

I think of Bill, like I do, when I’m prowling through my music collection. Bill was regarded as this fine blues player, which he was, and his wake was full of blues and rock music as if these genres defined him. They did not.

The Bill I knew, the Bill Brown I loved, was the funniest guy I had ever met. He was an older brother, a statesman, a historian, a wizard, a true star. Bill gave me the uncanny ability to be all The Beatles at once. His McCartney became my McCartney. He redefined humor on a daily basis. He gave me his green Ibanez tube screamer. He always had a new record he loved and couldn’t wait to share it. But why do I think that songs like “Little Wing” didn’t define him? Because Bill Brown loved a perfect pop song. He worshipped the Beatles. He thought Difford and Tillbrook and the entire Squeeze catalog was a must. Bill would not shut up about XTC and when Apple Venus / Wasp Star came out he insisted that I go for a drive to listen to them both. Bill loved the songwriting of Neil Finn and played Crowded House incessantly. Elvis Costello and the Attractions and no Attractions, it didn’t matter, Bill made damn sure that Costello was tattooed on my brain. He couldn’t get enough of Cheap Trick, Badfinger, Raspberries, Rundgren, and on and on and on. When I moved to San Francisco, Bill gave me an envelope full of rare baseball cards in case I should ever fall on hard times. Or if I just wanted to read stats out of lack of anything else to do in The City.

His kids play music now. Drums and guitar. They’re good kids.

Man, I miss him. What I wouldn’t give to hear him ask in his best scouse accent, “What are you doing with your nose in that booook?”

ap - 2009