Gerard
Malanga coordinated the dances for the Velvet Underground and invited Mary
Woronov to be his primary partner onstage. Other dancers would come and go—Ingrid
Superstar, International Velvet, Ronnie Cutrone, Eric Emerson—but Mary and
Gerard were the dance couple that embodied the Velvets’ look. Gerard had
thought about dance routines since the high school days of The Big Beat and more recently when he and Baby Jane Holzer had
danced with the Fugs, introducing a dance called the Gobble. Since early
adolescence he had self-consciously tried to create a “look.” For the Dom shows
he wore skin-tight black leather pants, a Marlon Brando T-shirt, and bleached
hair, and his favorite prop, a whip, became a Velvet signature. One afternoon
at Kenneth Jay Lane’s jewelry studio, Malanga saw studded leather arm bands. “Help
yourself,” offered Lane, and Gerard grabbed several, along with a Celtic cross
and the silver snake choker that John Cale would wear onstage. “The Velvets wore
all KJL jewelry,” said Malanga. “It was very chic.”
Showing posts with label Solanas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Solanas. Show all posts
I’m taking you up an alley. An alley’s the next best thing to the Casbah
But
before your marriage can soar away on wild, creative flights of fancy, you must
first master the fundamentals, and that’s precisely what we’re going to learn
here today – basic fucking. Marlene, would you go out in the hall and tell the
boys they can come in now? Thank you. All right, Boys, I hope you all brought
your mats and cundrums, as I requested. Fine. Now get your partners, and,
please, no talking when fucking begins. Allll right, Everybody, watch Teacher.
Position A. (Getting into position A.) One, two. One, two. You see how it’s
done? Allll right, begin. (Clapping her hands.) One, two. One, two. One …
Marlene! No, no, no, Marlene; you’re
oneing when you should be twoing. Now let’s try again. One, two. One, two.
Th-a-a-a-t’s right. One, two … (Almost at the end of her patience.) Marlene,
would you please confine yourself to fucking. The Marriage and Family Institute
doesn’t exist to turn out prostitutes, just simple, basic, serviceable wives.
Now, back to fucking. Watch me, now. One, two. One …
a desperate, frantic attempt to groove in an ungroovy world
This summary is not available. Please
click here to view the post.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)

