Icepack

Amorosi on the news, nightlife, gossip and bitchiness beats.

by A.D. Amorosi

Stuck in the middle of the muddle that was Lawrence Richette whipping out his prick and, in a separate incident, allegedly beating up his mom, Judge Lisa A. Richette (all on my birthday; there went that day's TV cover-to-cover coverage), was the fact that Big Larry at one time was a City Paper political writer. The press mentioned it, sure — waaaaaay down in its coverage. Sad that. Because when I started here — during my fabulash fake eyelashes/black leather pants/pirate blouson days, and true, that could have been yesterday! — "Crazy Larry," as he was affectionately known, even with me freshly ensconced at CP, was a formidable presence as a scribe and a loco-politico thinker. Now, you'd think you'd have to ask ex-CP boss Bruce Schimmel if Larry was flinging around his dick at the old 13th Street offices. But we all did. It was 13th Street. That's how we hailed cabs there: waving our cocks — lady writers and editors, too. That said, Crazy Lar — we miss you. The bickering. The mad spouting. We love you.

► If you're lucky enough to have Needles Jones ' phone number, you'd know his answering machine — with his truck-driver-in-a-hoagie-shop growl — goes like this: "If you want some action, you're gonna have to leave me a message. And send $10." Then you can hear him laughing. But it's been no laughing matter for the way-wounded Jones — drag doyen/The Balcony's Monday Night Club host — as he's pressing charges of attempted murder against the guy who broke his jaw and dislocated his eye from its socket. After that attack, Needles' bills need tending, too. I'm stepping in to throw benefits at The Balcony Sept. 3 (see Nicki Jaine /Kyle Cassidy arts feature) and Sept. 5 with The Donuts, Hoagy Wing, Kenn Kweder, Radio Eris, Jill Rabbits, Heather Henderson, Franzschubert, Ish Klein and more. Needles (who has a hilarious send-up of the attack and his non-role in the Fringe planned for its Cabaret Sept. 1) is not the biggest fan of benefit culture. Nor am I. But people hurt, damn it. And to paraphrase Ray Liotta in Goodfellas, "Fuck you, pay him." So hit Needles' Balcony benefits and pay him $10.

► Speaking of Ian Jarvis and Andrew Lipke , those Franz-fabulous Schuubs finally have their brashly absurd (and rawking, no f-ing doubt) second CD out Sept. 6: Little Lamb-O's Birthday Party. And the boldly complex cabaret-popping sheep-and-rabbit-covered Birthday Party can be heard in its entirety that day at the Fringe Late Night Cabaret with Lee Etzold . And by the way, all this talk of the Fringe Cabaret and The Balcony reminds me: Occasional Pig Iron Theatre drummer/now The Extravagant Bastard guitarist/singer Joshua Ramey was to have played last week Monday Night's Club. Apparently they never showed. Why? Because not only did his missus Emmanuelle Delpech-Ramey (ex-Pig Ironer) birth their boy Hugo that night, making me the Uncle Leo promised in a previous column. ("It's 9 pounds, 9 ounces of Delpech-Ramey futurism," says Joshua. "He's so handsome I'm beside myself.") Extravagant Bastard bassist Andrew Nelson's wife, Farah, also gave birth that same Monday to their swaddling babe — a girl, Amelia. Now that's a band meeting. If all y'all Philly bands planned shit out like that, you'd all be platinum. Congrats.

► OK. Wanna stay romantic: Mod-soul/caramel space R&B/nu-jazz WKDU "Eavesdrop" radio maven/DJ Junior (and yes, his new Excursions comp CD is le bomb) just kicked off Philly's new bash "Basement Soul" Fridays at Xochitl with Lil Dave. He's also kickin' off week two with a party for his wife, Monica, Aug. 31. Aw. Hey, Junior, I'm having my own anniversary with mah love-baby-missus, Glamorosi jeweler Patrice. Love's in the air.

► WHOWHATWHERE: Long after favoring sweat-balls with dumb-but-savory bon mots like, "They say there're no breaks in rock 'n' roll. Well, I'm taking a break," before sitting down during My Chemical Romance 's sassy Tweeter Center set, Gerard Way gave late-night hangers-on a thrill — at least one — by talking real earnestly, cross-legged on the asphalt backstage tour bus area 'round midnight. On the Marky Mark /M. Night-Shyamalan tip, they were all up in 700's grill on Friday night — spied filming and flirting in NoLibs. This before Wahlberg hung with the Squarebiz crew on the roof deck of Continental Mid-town. And would somebody please get Commissioner Johnson's S-Five rapping grandkid Steve off the Fox TV airwaves and the Daily News? Nobody heard of this cat.

► Hey, did TLA Entertainment's honcho Ray Murray break his ribs falling off a bike, facilitating what is rumored to be his first-ever day of work missed going back to when he was screening films on South Street? Possibly yes. Did punk-club entrepreneur David Carroll have to miss having a scotch neat at Monkey Bar because he had to get his hip replaced? Possibly yes. Gentlemen, get well soon. And be careful. You're not kids anymore. By the by, when Carroll does get out of hip rehab (that's not some urbandictionary.com rhetoric or Amy Winehouse reference), he'll have to quick get to the DJ Evan Gusz All-'70s/'80s rock out he's co-promoting every Thursday (10 p.m.) starting Aug. 30 at Café Habana with a special happy hour set from yours truly on the decks.

► UGK and their Philly lawyer Bernie Resnick not only decided to drop its first in five years — Underground Kingz — they decided it should debut at No. 1. Mazel and Tov.

► John Train didn't just drop its deeply funny, literarily dramatic new fourth CD Mesopotamia Blues. It's hitting Fergie's for an every-Friday-till-October Happy Hour starting Sept 7. That'll be one deep-thought-provoking hour, yo. Makes 'em drink more.

(a_amorosi@citypaper.net)