THE BEAT GOES ON

CINCINNATI—Like all other geriatric CREEMsters, I waltzed into this biz believing to the death in the ca.-1971 BangsMarsh party line that postulated Dee-troit Rock ’n’ Roll as nearer my God than the outlanders could ever be. Forget that I never got around to seeing the mythical MC5 or the surreal Stooges on stage—Lestronic Bangs gave me the word on both groups’ immortality when I was still a cub crit, and I’ve always been more than ready to embrace any spark that flew off the smouldering remains of those two ultragroups.