#CHINA CAT SUNFLOWER HEADYVERSION MOVIE#

Then there were the vocal harmonies, occupying some previously unknown ozone layer between the heavenly cherubs of the Beach Boys and the terminally earthbound growlers of The Band. Phil Lesh got me first, loping from bar to bar like the giant cosmic boot that adorns the Europe вЂ72 album cover, under the blissfully misguided impression that the bass guitar is a lead melodic instrument. That was pretty much where things stood between me and the Grateful Dead until early 2016, when someone shared the Europe вЂ72 version of вЂњHeвЂ™s GoneвЂќ into one of my social media feeds, and the great shaggy beast looming behind decades of American rock music started to emerge from the mist for me for the first time. The music sounded pleasant but lightweight, and the idea that so many people had built their entire lifestyles around a bunch of geezers singing songs about willow trees and sunshine daydreams was difficult to fathom.

I dabbled: I could sing along to вЂњUncle JohnвЂ™s Band,вЂќ owned a dusty copy of Skeletons from the Closet, had spun American Beauty a few times. вЂќ (The Dead indie revival had started in earnest a few years earlier with the вЂњNew Weird AmericaвЂќ scene, but as a teenager intoxicated by Deftones and Def Jux, I didnвЂ™t take notice of those hippies until later.) Like a lot of music nerds my age (27), I started coming around to the idea of the Dead in 2009 or so, when Animal Collective took the press circuit for Merriweather Post Pavillion as an opportunity to sing their praises in seemingly every interview, then sampled them on вЂњ What Would I Want? Sky. Over the last decade or so, the Grateful Dead have been creeping toward respectability, even cult hero status, for art rockers, punks, and indie kids-musicians and music fans who previously might have regarded them as the dorkiest band in America. And because custie is one of those words used to define an outgroup, like вЂњposerвЂќ or вЂњmuggleвЂќ: If you have to ask the question вЂњwhat is a custie,вЂќ the answer is always вЂњyou.вЂќ I know IвЂ™m a custie, but IвЂ™m learning to love the Grateful Dead. I know IвЂ™m a custie, because I happen to pay my dealer exactly $60 for an eighth. Another friend explained: a custie is вЂњa tourist in the world of hippies, as opposed to an authentic head.вЂќ A dealer might sell an eighth of weed to a custie for $60, then turn around and sell that same eighth to a real head for $40, the first friend added. I know IвЂ™m a custie, because just the other day, a guy I know used the word custie, and I had to ask him what it meant. Even with his penchant for laughable stunts, I believe some fight scenes, action or chases would have perked this one up.Let me start by saying that I know IвЂ™m a custie. Sex scenes are well-shot and the final image (as noir music plays on the soundtrack) is clever and evocative enough to have been used in a 'real movie', rather than just porn. Chinn cannot get much credit as a talent scout, as the one femme cast member who would soon achieve super-stardom (credit Alex De Renzy for spotlighting her in PRETTY PEACHES), Desiree Cousteau, is completely wasted in a few seconds-worth of bit part as a nurse giving a blow job.

#CHINA CAT SUNFLOWER HEADYVERSION MOVIE#

Chris Cassidy is the loveliest of the four, and late in the film Kyoto is tossed in the mix to give the movie needed exoticism. They are basically sent in to bamboozle Wadd with their feminine charms, and steal the Jade Pussycat from him, but John Holmes as Wadd outwits them. Some attractive leading ladies are the main diversion, as Chinn cheekily spoofs 'Charlie's Angels', even having the temerity to have a guy named Charlie on the phone barking orders to his set of four 'Devils', who are prettier and more talented (in XXX context) than the ho-hum current lineup on TV. This entry has little action, mainly sex. Bob Chinn's Johnny Wadd movies had fallen into a routine format by the time of CHINA CAT, a followup to his excellent entry JADE PUSSYCAT.

China cat sunflower headyversion