NO MORE HOT DOGS

I recently came across a post on Living in Stereo, in which the author wrote about a day when he mentioned to his class of college composition students that it was Chuck Berry's 80th birthday (the post was from 2006). He was dismayed that not one of them knew who he was. It was a great post, and it got me thinking; not of Chuck Berry, but for some reason, my brother Tim and Hasil Adkins. A weird correlation, I know, but follow me here.

My brother loved to do things just to tweak a person's everyday experience. An example: one time I was in Tower Records with him, and he was an aisle over. He walked up to a total stranger, with an album picked at random, and said "You should really get this one. It's an excellent record. I think you'll like it." Of course, the person had a totally puzzled look on his face, and may have thought my brother was a kook. This didn't matter a bit to Tim. All he cared about was that the guy undoubtedly walked away wondering what the fuck that was all about.

It was when my brother's prankster switch turned on. Opportunities to change a person's preconceived notions of what's normal. Wouldn't it have been great, I thought, if Tim had the opportunity that this college teacher had? After finding out the students had no clue who Chuck Berry was, he probably would have done something like convince the impressionable students, with no knowledge of early rock n' roll, that Hasil Adkins was, in all actuality, a significant rock n' roll figure. Their ignorance essentially left them as blank canvases, and, knowing Tim, he would have taken full advantage of that. Not just to fuck with them, but to send them out into the world thinking that Hasil Adkins was the shit. Which, of course, he was. Tim convinced me of that long ago. Hasil Adkins was a significant figure, not Chuck Berry significant, but significant nonetheless.

He and I first heard about "the Haze" in the pages of Kicks magazine, which had a decent run of about thirteen years (79-92). It was crudely laid out, with the feel of a scrapbook, but with incredibly informative and often hilarious text. There were only seven issues, but they were packed. The folks that put it out, Billy Miller and Miriam Linna started a record label, Norton Records, and reissued oddball records, including Hasil Adkin's early stuff. They really had the goods (and still do). Tim bought the "Out to Hunch" LP, and was off to the races. He loved turning people onto it.

I have a picture of Hasil Adkins on my bulletin board, that was put there, conservatively, about 19 years ago, right about the time Hazemania hit Chatsworth Blvd. It was from an old Kicks magazine. Back then, I wrote "Cut yo head off" on it, because that was a line in "No More Hot Dogs," which was one of Tim's favorites, and that was a line he often repeated. Often. Oh yeah, another endearing quirk of Tim's was repeating the odd lyric, or even a line from a friend's dialog or prank phone call, out of context, and often. "Mr. Egyptian, you're a goddamn liar." "You look like a clown." "It would be an honor sir." "No Nazis in the ice cream!" "Let's go somewhere else to mix the drinks." "Pertainin' to..." "No go diggy di." He had a lot of them. And more than a few came from Hasil Adkins.

Hasil Adkins - She Said, and The Hunch mp3s at Kogar's Jungle Juice
Hasil Adkins - No More Hot Dogs mp3 (+ video) at Fuck Yeah Go Team
Hasil Adkins - The Great Lost Album at Beware of the Blog
Hasil Adkins' Official Site Hasil Adkin at Wikipedia
The Hasil Adkins Hazequarters: Interviews with Billy Miller and Miriam Linna, and Hasil Adkins
Norton Records
Norton Records at Wikipedia