Curley the sea lion worked for Paramount pictures, starring in Doctor Rhythm with Bing Crosby and
Mary Carlisle; and Spawn of the North with
and George Raft. These pictures show off his morning routine!
Cisco flinched and pulled away. “Your hands are so cold.”
“That’s the point.” Caitlin grabbed his arm and pressed her fingers against the wound. “Stop moving. I haven’t stopped the bleeding yet, and if you keep moving, you’re going to lose even more blood.”
He stared at his arm, fascinated and a little awed as ribbons of frost spiraled from Caitlin’s fingertips and across his skin. He’d gotten in an ugly tangle with a metahuman, but his real foe turned out to be the barbed wire fence behind them. Twenty minutes ago, his arm had been lacerated almost to the bone. He hadn’t gotten a good look at it- he tried once and almost passed out -but he had known from the frequency of Caitlin’s concerned tuts that it had been ugly. Now, it was still bleeding, but it was a much shallower cut. His skin was healing before his eyes.
“I’m sorry it’s taking so long,” Caitlin apologized. She tilted her head down and a clump of hair fell in front of her eyes. She dyed it constantly, but it always faded away within a couple of weeks. Currently, it was the lightest shade of strawberry blonde- in between her normal hair color and her frosty one. In addition to the dye jobs, she wore a lot of foundation and dark lipstick these days.
“Hey, it’s cool.” She shot him an exasperated glance through the curtain of her hair. He held a hand up. “No pun intended, I swear.”
“Sorry,” she said again, more quietly. She glanced down at the wound at his arm, scrutinizing it. “How does it feel?”
“Ha.” She pressed her fingers against the edge of the cut. “You have to tell me if it gets too cold. It would be pretty ironic if I caused nerve damage while I was trying to fix it.”
“It’s not too cold,” Cisco assured her. It felt kind of relaxing to have her cold fingers against his stinging, burning skin. If he laid down on that cot, he could almost fall asleep, but Caitlin would make him get right back up. “You have to admit, this is pretty sweet. The whole regenerative energy deal. It’s like you’re a time lord or something.”
“Or something.” Caitlin studied the wound. “I don’t think I could cut my own hand off and grow it back, though. That’s scientifically improbable.”
His heart pattered a little. “You remember that episode?”
“Of course,” she said primly. “I went evil, I’m not an amnesiac.”
Simon and Garfunkel’s debut album, “Wednesday Morning 3 AM” was a full on folk album, complete with a cover photo of the two dapper gents in suits and ties in a subway. The record flopped, the partnership dissolved and Paul Simon took off for England, hoping to get a new musical start there. While the young songwriter was gigging in London coffee houses, and without permission from either performer, Columbia records took a track from their debut album and overdubbed it with an electric rhythm section. The doctored recording was intended to cash in on the growing folk rock scene in America, and the ploy worked perfectly. Soon, “The Sound of Silence” became a substantial hit, bringing Paul back from the U.K. and reuniting Simon and Garfunkel. While he was solo in London, Simon recorded an album titled “The Paul Simon Songbook.” He had played on the BBC and the network wanted a record to accompany his in person performances. Even after the hit single launched their careers, the solo album went unreleased in America, left behind and buried under the burgeoning success of Simon and Garfunkel. "Songbook" contained material that would become S&G staples: "I Am a Rock", “April Come She Will”, “Kathy’s Song”, “A Most Peculiar Man” and “The Sounds of Silence”, all played by Simon alone with his guitar. The record first surfaced in the States as part of an LP set of Simon’s complete solo recordings, but would later become available as a stand alone CD. Simon never wanted it released in America, finding it lacking in the wake of S&G’s success. I’ve always been fascinated by it, not only due to the difference between these cuts and the better known duo sides, but because the sound was a reflection of how the young Paul Simon must have sounded while playing for change in the local coffee houses in London. For that reason, “The Paul Simon Songbook” is an essential part of his catalog, preserving in it’s grooves that brief moment in his life when he was on his own, and not at all sure of where his career was headed.
(There were too many photos I wanted to use to pick one and this ended up really long but I have like three Mikey requests so I guess it’s fair.)
Mikey was absorbed in a book again. Something that usually wasn’t a problem, you enjoyed reading with him or just watching him read, but today you had other plans in mind.
“Are you almost done?” You asked not receiving a reply until he turned the page.
“One more chapter.” He insisted returning to his reading leaving you frustrated.
“Is that book really that interesting?” All you received was a curt nod and silence. Slowly your impatience began to grow but so did an idea.
Slowly you began to unbutton your shirt one button at a time. Through the whole thing his stone like posture hadn’t changed but to flip the page only adding to your frustrations.
You slipped your shirt off, smirking at you noticed his jaw clench.
“Mikey.. It can’t be that good of a book.” You teased standing up and slipping off your pants as he shifted his position slightly, hoping you wouldn’t notice but you did.
You chose not to say anything instead choosing to prolong his suffering. You got back on the bed his whole body tensing up as you slipped behind him placing gentle kisses on his neck before your hands started to make their way into his t-shirt his muscles tensing giving away the fact that he couldn’t really be focused on his book.
“Finished yet?” You asked innocently with a smile working his shirt up his body. “I guess I can take a break for you.” He grinned letting you slip off his shirt before he turned and forced you down so he was over you.
“Only because you distracted me being beautiful.” He noted before pressing his lips to yours gently before his tongue demanded entrance exploring before he pulled away moving to kiss your neck, leaving marks as ‘punishment’ for distracting him. He then moved to your collarbone, he took the opportunity to remove your bra before finding the spot below your ear he knew drove you crazy.
“You’re way more interesting than that book any day.” He assured making you smile.
“I’d hope so or we’d have a problem.” You teased pecking his lips getting a smile from him and a blush as you’d made a joke from his serious comment.
“Now, you look really uncomfortable and I think it’s my fault.” You motioned to his tight pants he’d just about tried to squirm out of earlier.
You only gently palmed him but still received a groan.
“Just get them off.” He whined as you started undoing his pants Mikey getting up to speed the process along.
“Well now who’s the impatient one?” You chided a grin on both your faces.
Mikey pulled you to him taking his sweet time pulling your panties off.
“It’s still you.” He smirked finally answering your question, but not ending your waiting. Instead he leaned up to kiss you placing his hands on your hips. Without much other warning he thrusted into you ending the impatience with a mutual moan.
“Shit Mikey..” You half mumbled, half moaned out pleasantly alarmed with his forwardness earning a grin from him as he pecked your lips gently.
He took his time developing a steady rhythm and doctoring your neck with kisses the whole time, only occasionally meeting your lips.
“Mikey, I’m close..” You warned, he simply nodded signaling he was too.
You felt the familiar sensation of pressure snapping, sending pleasant waves moving through your body as your grip tightened on Mikey he got sloppier before he too came, riding out both your highs before giving you a kiss and rolling off you.
“Much better than any book.” He announced a little out of breath.
You smiled and pecked his lips.
“Agreed. Though I do like it when my man comes and saves me from certain death on a white horse.” You joked Mikey laughing and pulling you up to him.
“Too bad my princess is a bad ass who can save herself.” He retorted kissing your temple.
“Not to mention you’d look ridiculous on a horse.” He only laughed at this.
“Geez, love you too.” You kissed him again and then smiled.
This was a pretty damned neat thing to stumble upon. I was kind of aware of the story of how the Aggrolites came to be; two Los Angeles reggae bands by the names of the Vessels and the Rhythm Doctors divided up and joined forces to for the backing band for a Derrick Morgan album. The album was recorded but was never released.. the guys liked playing with each other.. bip bop boopity.. blam! And the Aggrolites were born!
I was never aware that any of the proto-Aggrolites band had any recorded material out there, let alone in mp3 format. However the internet delivers, and lo and behold I found myself with the Rhythm Doctors’ only release, Reggae Injection, in my (figurative) hands. And it’s definitely not bad. It’s unbad. Hell, I’d go so far as to say that it’s
TOTALLY! FUCKING! AAAAAAAAAAWESOOOOOOOOME!!!
Ok well maybe it isn’t that good. It’s pretty damned good. And a nifty little piece of history.
The album is purely instrumental, except for some of the spoken word intros that some of the tracks have, like Dirty Reggae after it, and zillions of Jamaican tracks before it. Unlike the bulk of the Aggrolite’s body of work, this album moves around quite a bit in the realm of reggae. Not as extreme as moving from a skinhead track to a rocker’s one, but.. all I can really explain it as is that you can definitely hear the gears turning in Jesse Wagner’s 19 year old head. This is kind of the missing link in the Aggrolite’s genre of “dirty reggae,” which has kind of become the culmination reggae, ska, soul and funk music. The experimentation of mixing those genres can be heard in this album.
Anywho, the song I posted is by far my favorite on the track.. even though I really dug how the 1st track “Rhythm Doctor” quoted “Chameleon” by Herbie Hancock. The song is very Aggrolites, but you can hear how very different it is at the same time, especially in the bass and organ parts. Not coincidentally, the bass player Justin Kulekjian and the organ player Mark Quan didn’t make the transition over into the Aggrolites. Kulekjian’s style on this album varies from the standard skinhead bass lines that outline the triad/dominant/dominant + 9 chords, to a very swooping, almost Robbie Shakespeare style of playing that’s exhibited in this song. Quan’s style is way less percussive than Roger Rivas’ organ style that is the a significant feature of the Aggrolite’s overall sound.
As to where to get this album..? It’s on Amazon and the Android market place for like.. 8 bucks. Finding a cd or vinyl of this is hard because it is obviously way the FUCK outta print.. but if you wanted to spend the cash you could get it for under $50.
Ooh, may I prompt? Doctor/Rose, Rhythm. Pick a Doctor, any Doctor! ;)
3. rhythm - Doctor/Rose (hints of Nine, mostly Ten)
It’s not that he’s never noticed before, he has. He’s pretty sure someone would have to be blind to miss it. To miss the way Rose moves through life like there’s a rhythm guiding her. Telling her when to step forward and move backwards. When to push and when to wait.
In the days and weeks after he first met her, he’d been so surprised by her agreeing to come with him, he hadn’t given it any thought. He was so thankful she was there, he never considered how she always seem to know the best way to move around him, to move with him, to move him.
Now, past a regeneration, when her rhythm barely faltered, he’s so much more aware of it. Of the way she dances through life. Around her family and her responsibilities. Through their travels and adventures. And around him, past him. He’s even more acutely aware of each time she extends a hand to him, inviting him to take the place she’s created for him in her dance.
And each times she offers that hand, it becomes harder and harder for him not to take it. He wants to let her pull him in. To let himself move to her rhythm, to let it become theirs. He wonders sometimes, how much longer he can pretend he’s unaware, that he doesn’t see the way her steps falter every time he turns her down.
On the day she stops dancing, her face and rhythm gone, he promises to save her, to bring her back and when he does, when she’s dancing again, moving to her own music and smiling at him, he takes a chance, offering his hand and hoping.
After she takes his hand, he learns to dance again. He doesn’t learn her rhythm, nor does she forget. Together, they wind his broken one into her still growing one and create theirs.