Joe, you are like my heroin. My fix of you last night was magical. Now I lay in the gutter with your voice still in my head. Thanks Joe. Thanks a lot. Seriously.
I've been a fan of your shows for about nine years. I appreciate your work and am inspired by it in my own artistic endeavors. In particular, I really enjoy Red Sea, Thank You You're Beautiful, Loved One, and New Year's Eve. Also of note are Fire and Ice, Iceland 2, and Zen. Thanks Joe.
You are the greatest. I've been a fan for around 15 years now. I've even been using one of your bits as the audio background on my myspace page for a few years. I had to create my own audio player and embed it with one of your mp3s (hope you don't mind). But now I can change 'em up simply by linking to you. Sweetness. You are a true inspiration. Seriously. Thank you so very much for all you have done... and keep bringin' the goodness my good man!
Thanks SO MUCH for adding me Joe! You have been and inspiration to me for so long. What started as something that made driving a long commute a pure joy turned into listening to you obsessively on the radio for years. You're a genius. Hope you're doing okay!
Cheers friend, an honour having you here, be well, and do enjoy the library/blog's contents, here's hoping that it'll inspire you, as your creative spirit has inspired mine, sweet dreams then...
YO JOE!! N.M.Williams of Durango with KDUR. Huge fan. Hey listen, I've been real interested in making a couple beats for you to use how ever you please. Monologues, songs, whatever, I'll do it for you. Hit me up at myspace. com/sssailingsong heres a few samples (theyre a bit old, but HECK! and excuse the language on "Harpoon")
Joe, I had a very strange dream last night. I was at a theater in Minneapolis that is known for doing post-modern experimental work and there you were in the audience. During the intermission I took a seat in the lobby and you sat next to me. Low and behold taking a seat on the other side of the coffee table was none other than Noam Chomsky. As you two were discussing matters of aesthetic I can't quite recall the details of, I remember getting nervous and fidgety. After all, I'm sitting there hanging out with Joe Frank and Noam Chomsky. But then you started shooting me annoyed glances. I remember accidentally bumping the coffee table with my foot and you curtly remarked "do you mind?" Then I noticed a small hole in the flesh behind your ear. Soon I realized it was not flesh but rather a rubber mask. At that moment you pulled off your mask to reveal that you were in fact Odorus Urungus from the theatrical death metal band GWAR. Now you were in a new costume dressed as an Antarctic, alien, metal monster being. You proceeded to storm the stage as the the rest of the band joined you. The blast of loud guitars overwhelmed the theater as life sized puppets of Hillary Clinton, Barack Obama and John McCain paraded on to the stage while you chopped off their heads with a large, prop, medieval axe. Fake blood doused the gleeful audience from the decapitated neck stumps of the puppets. I wonder what Freud would make of that dream.
Dear Joe, I'm thrilled and honoured to see my indie film co in your top friends. You have been a solace in moments of emptiness and an inspiration in the long hours of laborious crafting the frame-by-frame parts of my films. You have been the bridge to some of the most important friendships in my life and a ray of hope that art (in North America) has not yet entirely lost its humanity to the free market. In short, you've meant so much to me in moments of deepest solitude that it is surreal to see myself even indirectly reflected on your page - as though the connections we make from the darkness of our mind are real, out there. Thank you for being there - your work is true film magic for the ears (the silence of the eyes).
Scotch is my Bible, Vomit my bread. Give me a bite of egg salad she said. Oil in my eyes and a flesh that is dead, We're nearing the time of armagedd.
Nickelodeon Dick, Your fin is my slot. The lather is spewing, Overflowing the pot. Mary Jane gives, Gives to your nails. Pass me the muscles spare the entrails.
We live in a zinc-plated, vacuum tube world, Filled with Martians, plastics and sausages. My fury is unfurled. Yours are the winners, Mine, the lozenges. Glory is only geek-deep, And I am not the underwear on the floor. My umbilical anger is sweating, On the back of a fruitless, pooping boar.
Joe Frank has moved to Tuesday nights at 10 on community radio station WMUA, 91.1 FM in Amherst, Mass. (and streaming live on the Internet at wmua.org).
Joe's programs air as the first hour of my weekly show, "Strange Bedfellows."
a got a set of your stuff for christmas. (which is beautiful) My dad stole it however, and became strangly inspired. Now the home movies he makes have dark little stories with droning background music of scratches. its interesting, on the wedding tape. Anyway. still love yer stuff. thanks for the inspiration.
A friend of mine asked me recently if I thought there was anybody living today possessing a level of genius comparable to, or greater than, Bernini. I told him, "Yes... his name is Joe Frank". Keep up the brilliant work, Joe!
