I am alone in my fondest memories.
In the late eighties I worked as a cook at a restaurant called The Crazy Horse Pub. I cooked for the dinner crowd. The kitchen closed at 11:00 p.m. so I usually punched out after midnight. I would go home wired on caffeine and adrenaline and unwind by drinking copious amounts of beer and watching TV. There wasn't much on after Letterman but one night I caught a gritty oddity called The Headless Eyes (1971) at around two o'clock in the morning. I couldn't believe my luck! I'd never heard of the film but it was a strange alchemical mix of New York grindhouse sleaze and undergound arthouse weirdness. The eyeball gore surprised me (remember, this was on broadcast television) as did its focus on the tortured villain who scoops out people's eyes (with a spoon!) to make his art. I ate it up. I have not seen the film since that wonderful night and don't want to. My memory is no doubt frayed and flawed but I don't want to destroy it by watching the film with fresh, contemporary eyes. I want to keep it pure.
One night, again after a shift at The Crazy Horse, I was looking for something interesting on the radio and heard this weird show hosted by a guy who sounded drunk. His voice was grumbly and torn and he said, "Yee-yee," a lot. He played a strange mix of 60's garage and psychedelia and 80's punk (Husker Du, Replacements etc..). The song that caught my attention the most was a long, psychedelic masterpiece that really blew my mind. It took me around ten years to learn it was Slip Inside This House by The 13th Floor Elevators. Roky Erickson R.I.P.
Please note that my savoring these memories in no way endorses a nostalgia for the 1980's which I considered a kidney stone of a decade.
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