Toomorrow (1970) (part 6 of 10)

During the song, Benny, who’s wearing David Cassidy’s leather vest, wraps his guitar-neck arm up and over some random girl, so that she’s inside the guitar-playing, as it were. Random Girl is really not thrilled about this, however, and Benny quickly reopens his drawbridge and moves on. So either Random Girl is a really bad actress, or that whole thing wasn’t planned, and we just watched Ben Thomas molest some girl. Come to think of it, those aren’t mutually exclusive categories. Meanwhile, human-disguised Observer skulks in a corner, pleased he’s finally found the emissions he was looking for. And he also tracked down his music group! *rimshot* Haha, just kidding folks.

Caption contributed by Mark

I get knocked down, but I get up again! You’re never going to keep me down! I get knocked down, but I get up again! You’re never going to keep me down!

They wrap up the number, and just as I’m thinking, “Well that could have been worse,” Karl intros another song, and I suddenly get the sinking feeling that we’re going to see their whole set. Which, we recently learned, lasts for eight days. Bad enough we’re getting it now, but knowing we’re going to get it again tonight at the Generic Unnamed Festival really makes me want to go check the freezer and make absolutely sure I’m out of vodka. Are there any liquor stores open at this hour? Dammit.

Fortunately, the school principal, or headmaster, or whatever, has taken pity on me. This fellow, who looks a lot like Mr. Wilson, marches out of his office and down the hall to the electrical box, where he proceeds to switch off the power to the building. What’s funny about this is instead of their music cutting off altogether, it slows down to a stop as if on a record. This is sometimes cited as a continuity error, but I think this is the sound guys’ subtle acknowledgement that all of this stuff is prerecorded in the studio.

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Mark "Scooter" Wilson

Mark is a history guy, a graphics guy, a guy for whom wryly cynical assessments of popular culture are the scallion cream cheese on the toasted everything bagel of life. He spends his time teaching modern history at Brooklyn College, pondering the ancient Romans at the CUNY Graduate Center, and conjuring maps and illustrations for ungrateful bankers at various Manhattan monoliths. Readers are welcome to guess at reasons why he's nicknamed Scooter, with the proviso that all such submissions are guaranteed to be rather more interesting than the truth. Mark lives in the Midwood section of Brooklyn with a happy-go-lucky, flop-eared dog named Chiyo who is probably, at this very moment, waiting patiently for her walkies.

Multi-Part Article: Toomorrow (1970)

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