Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Rants in my Pants

Withdrawal...last grapple of winter...deluged with rain...dead sports season...March Badness....backed up with reviews...some of you may use and lose...who am I really blogging to?..primary nightmare caregiver...constant re-liver....consider the liver....doldrums is the river running through it...SXSW in 12 months...burnt by the bulk of the news that makes news....all of my music through headphones..all of my words read sleepily after hours burning midnight oil..causing clear thoughts to bury themselves in a fog of clashing questions and quest for inner fire.....from those ashes rises a rant...coiling like a mamba in a grey matter jungle......fangs alot....
The Ads on my sight are making me furious like the one to the left of this text..........I have to go in and change it weekly..keeps returning like a cancer cell poking fun at my insides...Why do I have this ad??.WHY am I Looking at Lil Wayne? No, you fucking imbecile webmaster...not everyone likes hip hop! In fact, you bottom of the barrel scraping dirty dollar clutching ad man, I would like to scream bloodcurdling and triumphantly,  with neck vessel bursting and scowling with a burnt tongue that I fucking Hate Hip Hop! It does nothing for me except bring out an anger that makes going postal look like a sunny Sunday walk in the fucking park. It's message of faux struggle drowned in auto-tune and hood bravado rhymes has dumbed society down to its soulless, beat hungry core...a sorry ass least common denominator  (s)hit single- sucking populace of  insta-reality celeb fans, slow walking sidewalk crowding welfare club rats, and guys who insist that everyone within earshot hears the latest jam as they drive by in their 1991 busted up Buick Skylark with Pep Boy Rims, 4 windows down and trunk rattling with overdriven noise polluting my fucking air!!!   Get it off of my site or I'm going to come looking for you....Someone should make you squeal like a piggy and recite Beatles lyrics out in the dead of the woods while being held down by 3 hired and hulking 'roid- hound metal thugs, as the tears from your blunt bleary eyes drip down onto your gang tattoos and droopy drawers.
  Get off and stay off of my site.   Stay out of my world. This little site is my world of thought. This is where I lay my words down and regurgitate ideas and shine lights for 200 people to read every week about real music that people put hard work into and pay dues to get heard. Real music for real people.  Keep your shit off of my shoe before I use it to kick you back to the fake ghetto where you belong.

exhale...continue on. Like a warrior through the dusty cut out bins and crate real estate...through the murky back waters of forgotten blogs and footage of yet to be discovered masters....

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Friday, March 26, 2010

Music Reviewer Cliche Bingo

Here, before you, sits the atmospheric, ethereal lovechild of clichéd music reviews and bingo. No doubt it elicits a nostalgic vibe: You’ve witnessed many of these catchy gems of words and phrases before. Writers have a penchant for using clichés — they are irresistible. They have infectiously crooned their way into the critical soundscape, specifically in the visceral, post-lo-fi-chillwave-gaze world we live in. Now you can pseudo-experience it all, in bingo form. It’s like playing bingo… on acid.

 I found this on Flavorpill today and threw up in my mouth a little, not because I have been the culprit, when reviewing,  who has used at least two of the "bingo squares".  It was  because I was attacked by a Bingo flashback of being stuck in an upstate NY church basement, choking on high tar cigarette smoke forced out of black lungs and with the help of breathe machines from my Mom and 60 other intense Bingo enthusiasts. 

They were wrinkled beyond repair, they shouted out "N-71!" as loud as they could from their cancer kazoos. The Dab-O-Ink and nicotine stains spread like heat rash on their spindly yellow fingers, while they gnawed on pistaccios and Zagnut bars and cursed the nun with broken English who caught the numbered and lettered balls and croaked them out into a microphone that would feed back with every approach. 

And it was her fault when the Jabba in the back with the three inch thick bifocals and the yello mumu yelled out "BINGO" and the game was over.  I remember the hum of the flourescent lights and the grumbling in Italian en mass as the boards were cleared with the magnetic chip sweepers and Jabba pocketed her 20 bucks.

But I digress.

I have used "penchant for" and   "-tinged" more than once within the many lines of commentary and opinion I have been writing for years now.  But in the confines of my style,  those two faux pas are usually saved for contexts like "penchant for massive suckery" or " fecal-tinged".

I am proud of that, and no Bingo based reviewer cliche game is gonna tear me away from my insults!

However, I will never use the words cool, awesome, radical departure, Zeppelinesque, bitchin', minimalist, shoegazing, illin', super, neat, superneat, industrial, corn pone or bubblegum in any of my reviews....

-unless the music, artist or song managed to fit all of those characteristics into a super cool, awesome song.


Thursday, March 25, 2010

A.V. Club Contest: Ted Leo doing Tears For Fears


Ted Leo and the Pharmacists are one of those bands that should have gotten their due a decade ago. Ted has been putting out albums for years now, chock full of melodic and abrasive power pop with punk sensibility, that rival anything Elvis Costello or Joe Jackson ever did. His lyrical content just stuns me, it's simply brilliant, song after song. It confounds me..the fact that he's not a superstar, and Vampire Weekend has every hipster poseur jumping from Williamsburg to Silverlake and back. His latest release "The Brutalist Bricks" is one of the best albums I've heard this year so far.

The Onion's A.V. Club has a contest in motion where any band(mostly indie fare) that comes through town on a tour, stops at their offices and has to choose, perform and record a big 80s or 90s hit from a list that they have compiled.  This is Ted Leo and the Pharmacists' take on Tears For Fears'  Everybody Wants to Rule the World.
I implore you to seek out Ted Leo. I don't often implore you to do anything but avoid bands and performers, so strike that and reverse it with Ted Leo and the Pharmacists.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Josh Homme(Rhymes w/ Mommy) Sells Independent Record Store Day

Sade!  Manilow! Old 97s?

Leave the big box store behind.....enter the stacks..a music mission... monoliths of Vinyl...2001 soundtrack on cue... embrace the dusty used cd section, get your Lilith or Grunge on! Befriend the judgmental vegan-ish anti folk nerd behind the register!  Buy an English Beat pin, get a Cure: Head on the Door poster!  Friend everybody, and everybody will friend you!   Leave with something in your hands, not a file on command. Make a stand!

Armed with Photos (from SXSW)

I've been back for several days riding on the fumes of a great 4 days in Tejas.  So before I post some photos, let's recap.
These are the bands I think you should check out from a variety of genres: Some you should already know, some you'll be very afraid of. There are a few I have not mentioned in previous posts, so pay attention.

Dead Confederate(Athens, Ga.)
Who Made Who(Copenhagen, Denmark)
I Wrestled A Bear Once(Shreveport. LA)
Township(Boston, Ma)
Priestess(Montreal, Quebec)
Tobacco (main man from Black Moth Super Rainbow: Pittsburgh, PA)
Trampled By Turtles (Duluth, MN)
High On Fire (Oakland, CA)
Sleepy Sun(San Francisco, CA)
Scorpion Child(Austin, TX)
Trash Talk (Sacramento, CA)
The Jim Jones Revue( England)
Mondo Drag (Davenport, Iowa)

If you look under a rock, you will find rock.
Teach your children
Bring them to festivals
Take away their video games, and all will be well.   Just look what I found.

Less preach, more pics!

                                                       Matt Pike: High on Fire (10 strings!)

                                                          Gordie Johnson (Big Sugar, Grady)

                                                        The Meat Puppets!

                                                     Flatstock Poster Show


                                                                   The Bronx

                                                              The Jim Jones Revue


                                                       Metal Mom @ Voivod Show

                                                          Trampled By Turtles!

                                                         Howl @ Attitude Adjustment Party

                                                Dead Confederate @ Obscure Magpie Party

                                                              Mog Party People

                                            Perez Hilton w/ some guy who wants to be Justin Timberlake

Sunday, March 21, 2010

SXSW Day 4

The rain that was pelting the Airstream and rousing me in the pre- dawn hours sounded like bullets from the gun of God. I knew he was pissed at me, but why such an ambush,dude? I had been dreaming about walking around with a magic clipboard and telling the Badge Brigade that they couldn't get into things like Muses' secret show or the 10th Broken Bells appearance at a twittered about, unnamed parking lot. The sky violently opened and put an end to that. Yes, Day 4 was on and the sun took the day off to rest up and return after all of the black jeaned buskers got back on their planes and flew to Obscuria, IL.

There was a 20 degree drop in degrees from the previous day which made the decisions as to what to see and where a bit easier. Inside, VIP, on a list were good....stumbling around with cold hands and heart trying to review music while wearing gloves and cursing spring breakers were out. Easy enough, right?  The bike ride to downtown was brutal. My bare knuckles were blue when I got there and I worried how I was going to hold the first beer.

I had VIP access to the MOG Party at Mohawk, because I am a Mogger.(look at those ads on my site). There were 400 beautiful people in line at noon and I got to walk right in to the VIP balcony, with BO under my hat and a pen that didn't work. Awesome. Brooklyn Lager was obtained, and I looked to my left and noticed Thurston Moore(Sonic Youth) leaning against a tent pole by himself. He would be playing later with an all Star indie band called Demolished Thought (w J Mascis, Don Fleming and Andrew WK). I knew in my gut that I was the only one on this balcony who knew who he was, and it seemed so absurd to me. SY is indeed an acquired taste, but the guy is an indie/noise rock legend. It was bothering me more than he....
I stayed to watch Free Energy, a Philly band on a major whom I'd never heard of and I live there, and after seven excruciating songs of midtempo happy pill rock with just the bare minimum of distortion, I knew I never would again. Hall and Oates were the best thing to ever come outta Philly and you can quote me on that. John Oates could have come out solo and done songs  from his cut out bin 3rd album and still taken Free Energy to college.

Out of the gray blue I got a disturbing call from my Dad telling me that my brother had just been in a car accident, but was OK. It was an absolute miracle he survived. He flew off the road on his way to work in the early morning sleepy drive, missing a telephone pole and guardrail by inches, going airborn and crashing into the far side of a creek. Airbags saved him. His truck was mangled.  There are more details, and this is a music blog, not my fucking life story, so... All I would like to say is, after losing my sister a year and a half ago, this really shook me up. I felt like this drastic weather change brought in from the cold distance had been a sign, a "something has happened" sort of feeling, mildly psychic and I was off of my game, or faking it for the rest of the day.

There were other highlights, though. If I was going to drown in my sorrows, why not do it at the showcases I had RSVPed to, surrounded by several good bands and beer practically thrown at me?

I saw Dead Confederate at the Obscure Magpie Showcase. This Athens, GA band simply blew me away with their vaguely southern style hybrid of My Bloody Valentine and Nirvana. A perfect sustain/reverb/distortion cradle that the crowd laid in like drunk, cooing babies. One of the Highlights of SXSW for me. I hated to leave, but I had been hearing through metal rumblings about this band called Howl(Providence, RI) who were right around the corner at the Attitude Adjustment party at Red 7(put on by Brooklyn Vegan and Tee Pee records). Good stuff, the free Magic Hat beer was colder than the air on the back patio and Howl brought the exquisite thunder with epic gargle/growls and a bitchslap of thick riffs.The rhythm guitarist plays pretty good for a girl, and would without question behead me with a for-the-fences swing of her Gibson if she ever heard me mutter that to a mob of bros.

I biked on over to the Flatstock poster show for a round 2 peruse, but with my brother on my mind, couldn't really find the need to buy anything that would stay in a tube for half a decade and be forgotten about...something told me to just keep going. Here I had to make a choice...go back to the Mog Party and watch Demolished Thoughts and the Black Keys...which would have been epic, or check out 2 good friends from Bang Camaro's camp, playing in their other bands.  I chose the latter. I arrived at a bar on W. 4th to catch the second half of Boy Wonder's set. BW is led by the charismatic R&B rock guru Andre Coles, who along with yours truly, were the newest additions to last year's Bang Camaro US tour. He was tight and appealing as usual and it was great to hear songs from his Superego cd live. Next up was a bunch of flaired denim clad hairy rock gods named Township from Boston. MA. Township is now the main project of Alex Necochea, who is the co leader of Bang Camaro. This outfit was scalding twin Lizzy leads, hard rock in 4th gear, 1977 8-track- blowing speakers- on the way to the moon tower- party music. If the suede fringe on your jacket ain't swayin' during Township's set, you haven't been born yet.

It was time to pay the piper, so to speak. I had been on the phone with my editor in chief earlier in the festival and he relayed to me that he had gotten press clearance for me to go to the "biggest party in Austin" (not his words, of course, those would be the press darlings) the Perez Hilton One Night in Austin featuring nobody worth mentioning or relevant to rock or indie music coverage. You know, foofy foreign disco drenched dreck dolled out by deejays....and Snoop Dogg and Courtney Love(I refuse to call anything attached to her that doesn't have Eric Erlandson involved, or isn't oozing disease..HOLE.)

I am no starfucker or fame whore, however My editor and I agreed that if I wanted to go and get some shots and see what it was all about cool, go for it. I decided to go. So at 630 pm, I stood in the line for media, and sure enough, I was on the list...but it turns out for this event, I would be a photographer. I was ushered back to a green room/holding pen for vidiots, and press people. We were given the schpiel about shooting only during the first two songs of every set. And shooting certain celebs that would stand in front of the standard wallpapered backdrop with the sponsors' names on it. Looking uninterested and sure that they were the finest that the species had to offer  Besides being no fame whore, I'm also no PHOTOGRAPHER. We were told No flash during Macy Grey's set, or DJ A track's set....ok,I guess. Whatever. Macy Grey had a hit when most of the kids in the audience were peeing in pull- ups.

I found it hilarious that little old me with an Olympus digital SLR that was not fully charged was standing around with the same press credentials as some of the lifers with three heavy Nikons around their neck looking like they just got back from shooting a Fallujah firefight. I wasn't even done reading the manual yet, and I have had the camera for two years.  I managed to get some happy accidents to occur simply by staying on auto with my hand holding the flash down. We were all comparing shots, and with some heavy acting being put into play by me, I might add. I actually got some compliments from a few guys who looked like they had shot Monterey Pop in '67.

Then it all started to kick was my bro doing? Courtney won't be going on until when????  We can't even use the bathroom back here or snag a few XX beers? What, no deli trey?  Why does the photo line feel like a mosh pit?  Whats with all the high heel and fag hags back here? My battery is dying. I wouldn't review these acts even if I could. Could I pull a wedgie out right in front of these people? Am I gonna ride that bike back to the airstream in 40 degree darkness. Shit, I could be seeing Black Tusk or GWAR right now. Holy shit, I don't care about these mouth breathers and perfumed wannabes and sponsors...I'm tired and want to hang out with the friends I haven't even seen...the friends who put me up...the friends who bought me the ticket!!!!  WTF is wrong with me? I'm a rocker, I'm a writer, I'm a lover, not a fighter....get me the fuck out of here.. So my friends came to pick me up and we spent the last hour of the night around a mini bonfire in Alex's back yard thinkin' about the good times. With good friends. And that is all that really matters.  Not this story, not this blog, not anything but the love between good people, good laughs and good conversation.

It took me 4 days, 16 venues and 37 bands to figure that out.                    sniff, sniff.

Goodbye SXSW, I'll be back, next year. Maybe with a badge.
But never with a pony tail, clean jeans or a shirt tucked in with company letterhead on it.
Never hustling in a scrum of flashbulbs to get a good shot of a faceless DJ.
Never without a genuine Texas taco truck within a quarter mile radius at all times.

That's not rock and roll.

Saturday, March 20, 2010

SXSW Day 3

Slow going this wasn't a hangover clanging a gong between my ears, it was the lack of sleep. The Airstream is delightful,there's just not enough time to use it. There's music to see. Today I didn't get on the bike until 2 pm,

Shaved the beard. i didn't like smearing the taco juice off off the hair above and below my lip....on to the music,,,

The first band of the day was The Bronx  - a rip roaring, fire breathing blast of brash LA punk. Sweat roaring off the bald singer's forehead, greasy dudes from metal shop on guitar and bass. Lots of fists flyin', tattooed forearms raised in praise.

I walked down the hill to the second stage at this event, called Mess With Texas(MWTX) and was psyched to see 5 gaunt and ghastly white Brits called the Jim Jones Revue blazing through a set of uptempo rockabilly/rock stomps. Piano reminiscent of The Killer, used as a weapon, shiny guitars and shoes, The photos I got were great, the beer lasted me through three songs.

Next up was a short walk to the Scoot Inn to see canuck metall-ers Voivod, I was mildly impressed, not really with their set of semi dischordant metal sung in a French Canadian accent, but with the plethora of angels on their guitars, You could put an eye out with that thing. The Scoot Inn looked like a metal family playground. Lots of  pre teen skate kids running around and their mothers chasing them in sleeveless denim vests with  tats on their necks and Lone Star tall boys in their hands.

Walked back to the bike, which was entangled in a cyclone aftermath of bikes. Got free and headed over to the Austin Convention Center to check out the Flatstock Poster Show. Austin, Like SF before it, is well known for its poster art scene. Every show at SXSW had an artist producing a silkscreen poster of it. I walked around, imagining my mini mansion's walls being covered by fantastic rock posters instead of pictures of cats.  A voice from the PA awoke me from my distant dream, notifying the wanderers that they were closing for the day.

Short hop over to Trinity Street to the Pure Volume House. Stood in line to get my "badge", went in to watch a band called Happy Clay People..sort of messy rock from long haired(but not too long) college kids who seemed to be dressing down and out of their element to me, but some of their set was enticing enough. They did a spot on cover of Life On Mars(Bowie)..and a s I was singing along, I saw a woman in a purple shirt sashaying around with a tray of Taco Bell tacos raised above her head. I was ashamed, but I took two.(ok, 3)..... Taco Bell tacos in Austin TX. That's not right.   But free is good, besides it was dark in there, and nobody knew me.

Sat down on 6th street for a bit and planned my night. I noticed a huge shift in the crowd from previous days.. College must have let out. it looked like spring break. A bunch of clean cut kids flew in for the weekend on Dad's dime to get a chance to see XX or Surfer Blood and text each other from different waits in different lines. The Beardos weren't digging them and neither was I.

Went over to Red Eye Fly to see Trampled By Turtles, a bluegrass Americana band from Duluth. This was the first show I had to pay to see. Oh well. I had interviewed the band and loved the speed and intensity of their songs. It's like bluegrass shredding at times. Beards, overalls and knee slappin' good times. However, the Badge brigade started filling the place up. The Badge Brigade is made up of industry people with comfortable shoes, clean jeans and tucked in shirts with their companies logo on the front, and maybe an earring or ponytail. They are all over 6 feet tall and little old me could not see, so I left.

Quick pizza break and then right next door to Headhunters for another metal showcase.  So packed I could only hear (not see)  the bands Salome and Yakuza. Head spinning from a tall boy, from talking to members of the band Bison, and mad at the tall dude in front of me standing with his arms crossed,  (there's one at every show) I had to leave before I started to heckle the tall guy with my tall boy.
It was then I had realized I had hit a wall...I went briefly to the Hype Machine's ongoing party at Vice,but all of those party kids from the college scene were twittering and dancing...this was a ten minute stay and my last stop of the night.

Got back to the trailer before midnight.   Wall was hit.

Friday, March 19, 2010

SXSW Day 2

Back for more...the beardo look is fitting in just fine here in Central TX.  There are so many beards here, that its catching on with the ladies too..or maybe thats just an effeminate grindcore frontman....on to the shows.

First was I Wrestled a Bear Once(Shreveport, LA). I wasn't expecting much from this very young metalcore band..but then lead singer Krysta Cameron came out dressed like a furby/ penguin hybrid and started in singing...I've never heard a female voice like it. her's is 30/30/40...Bjork on helium/shrieking piglet/and a very cute but powerful death growl. She has total possessed control of her vox..amazing to hear..even if you don't like this sort of music, and I don't. the band messed together genres with interludes of jazz, Mr. Bungle outtakes and math rock.

Next was Tia Carrera from Austin. Heavy power trio with rotovibe blanket...their thing is that they improvise every single show from start to finish, much easier to do with no vocals..

Next was Suplecs from New Orleans....I sat next to one of their superfans and asked him to describe them to me before the show..he said they've got that stoner heavy swamp thing going on. I asked him to go deeper for me and he told me "all you journalists are the same". I told him "look, I know what a heavy stoner swamp thin is, but maybe readers don't...and he said you know ZZTop /Allmans...I just smiled.......knowing that there are very few swamps in Texas or Georgia. He had gold fangs.

Next was The Meat Puppets !  What a show...older, yes they are..Curt Had a very large beer belly...looked like he was in his second trimester...but they blew me away with rolling desert jams, country beats, tumbleweeds rolling in a hoedown and massive spaces full of tight cactus rock..

next was Souls.. one lanky drummer, bassist and guitarist were lightskinned black skinhead lookin', singer was Long curly haired "Maiden fan" lookin'.  Then the music...explosive anger, 2 minute point and pump shotgun blasts length songs, a fury whip pit of arms and arterial spray. I was actually scared of their music....kind of brought out the feral in every member of the audience.

Next was Who made Who from Denmark- Two dieter looking dudes with manicured mustaches and suspenders churning out some tasty live disco beats..but the kicker was the guitar..funky greasy and sometimes spacey swoops of slide guitar...and it worked. Their voices in tandem rang out like a faster Brian Ferry ...a major surprise...I almost got out on the dance floor..but really now, the only move I know is the white man dance/Angus Young two step.

On to the Tee Pee records showcase where i was entertained by a very loud stoner band called Iron Age from Austin...another one of a kind vocalist sounding like a much louder Rob Halford if he was gargling small pieces of glass...also watched a J Mascis side project called Sweetapple, with members of Cobra Verde and Witch.

At 1:30 I had my last Lone Star which almost came up as I sang Big Star's "Thirteen" on the late night bike ride home.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

SXSW Day 1

 First of all and most importantly:  Rest in Peace Alex Chilton...your absence here in Austin will be felt. You brought such joy and influence to anyone who appreciated the best power pop ever to bleed out of an amp....such sad news. I will hum "Thirteen" all through the day today.

-Sat next to some uber hipster girls with perfect bangs and re tailored thrift shop clothes, The conversation leaked in and out of my ears as the ambien pulled me under:  My ex is a totalitarian extremist. he's 37, thats kind of old.  My parents used to take family trips up the coast to Seattle and would casually drink bottles of beer all the way there...I used to be able to make a ring out of a dollar bill, I can't imagine being bothered by having my sleep interrupted to go change a diaper...I brought my piccolo.................

Airport, Austin:  a limo driver holding up a sign with the name :BEERE.  I took it as a sign of my own.

-picked up by my dear friends Alex,James and Steven.  Gangs all here. Talked about the good times and stopped at Spec's for a critical beer run.

Was shown my accommodations: a 1968 Airstream trailer. Heaven.

Took the bike Alex lent me down to the thick of things. The last time I rode a bike, I remember my dad taking the training wheels off and saying "You can do it Sean!"

Locked the bike and felt an adrenalin rush like no other.  You might think it was because of the incoming onslaught of infinite music I was looking for the goddamn taco truck. The holy grail of Austin texas .  Walked up and down the main drag on 6th...NO TACO TRUCK.  Who is in charge here.  Look at all of the beards.  Where's the pile of free beer?  Oh yes... i remember happens for free at the DAY parties....It was 7pm on St. pattys day and needed to fill the taco hole...the taco negative space....with a 4 dollar PBR.

Music:  Got the news that i was on the bands list for the Action/PR Showcase at Mohawk......So it was there I went and stayed. I was feeling so metal, wearing black, sporting beard, a mild waft of BO eminating from beneath my jeans
First Band:  Mondo Drag : an excellent young psych rock band from davenport Iowa.
Next: Naam- fromm Brooklynn......Toooo muchhhhh reverbbbbbb and songs so slow and buried in sound that time stopped long enough to make me think of the missing taco truck again.
Next: Bison from Vancouver- A crushing  wave of riff and uppercut rhythms on repeat. cascading over a whipped up crowd. So loud that beer vibrated in my tummy and the guitarist blew his 1000 watt head.
Next:  Gates Of Slumber from "the midwest". Three beefy guys that looked like a team of Wrestlemania ringers who always lose to the stars of the ring....proceeded to surprise everyone with some shredding just south of Iommi and drumming like an amped up Gatlin gun.
Next: Zoroaster:  doom, the record is on slow, walking to the gates of Hades in slow motion...smoke machines...bass slung so low it was hitting the floor............tacos, tacos.
Priestess:  been waiting for this one. A great Montreal metal band with a real live singer who climbs up the register while punishing his SG and bigsby.  New album: Prior to the Fire rocks the rivets off of my denim....they slayed it.   Burly tattooed women got closer to the dreamy singer as the set wore on. Drummer could have broken a ride cymbal with one more blow.
and Finally....High On Fire. The loudest band on earth.Run for cover. Hide the women and children. Matt Pike plays a 10 string guitar!!!!! The pit swirled like a dizzy and rabid dog as tinnitus overcame the faithful..a rumble of epic proportion, a viking crying out for more war, a crack in the earth beneath the stage. That's metal, right down to my bubbling marrow. new album Snakes for the Divine so loud it could down a fighter jet.

Rode the bike home, a UT student with 60 pounds on me whizzed by in the bike lane..I.wheezed and coughed all the way back..where's my breath bed in the airstream, dreaming of cross country travel on an interstate, in the airstream  chasing a taco truck.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Fresh Pots!

Magic beans make great rock stars
Good to the last drop
hop to the next fill, Dave.
Don't let the fresh roast stop.
Some pots make you nervous
some pots make you crawl
but the ones that are fresh and bottomless,
make great drummers of us all.

Sunday, March 14, 2010


23 more parties to choose from.
24 hours in a day.
Go big or go home.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Where is the Houses of the Holy Grail?

Those were the days, man .  Not any more.
Kurt's up in 27 Heaven. There's an action figure and a converse sneaker with him on it.
Krist is a Politician.  Get into his big , black car. Blame both sides.
James is making music with a Hanson.
Billy is a wacked out, New Age bible thumper who fired everyone who ever worked with him and ended up alone.
His ego never bruises, but his hand sure does from patting himself on the back.
Dave is sitting behind the drums in TCV where he belongs, not phoning in his shlock rock with the Foof Fighters.

Where did all of the rock stars go?

They went the way of the attention span,
trading places with- butterfaced dancers with glitter on their privates who move fast enough for the faces to not turn to stone.
so hard to take the focus away from their generictuned voices.
And the rock stars become the newest wax museum member.....
They're playing the superbowl drowning in pomp and wearing hearing aids to the party.
They're crossing over to corporate country when the voice and the pussy dries up.
They're opening casinos and country fairs with drummer #6 and bass player #4.
They're finding god, writing memoirs, dying hair and dying there.

Show me one legit rockstar who is under 30, tears through the lifestyle hard enough to live to tell about it, and takes a year to write an album, doesn't have a fashion line, or charity event or a fucking ringtone.
Show me someone whose lyrics you're going to write on your 8th grade English Folder, goes through "it girls" like they were post it notes on his penis, then gets that thing plastercast as he's launching a flat screen out of his hotel window with one hand while sharpie-ing his name on the double D of some Midwestern runaway turned boozed groupie.

Wake me when its time to rock again.

I'm headed to Texas in search of something.

Monday, March 08, 2010

Soon We Will Think Orchestrally, and It Will Happen

I went to a show last week. The artists on the bill were all electronic musicians. The crowd was thick, the glasses were thicker and it was impossible to see any part of what these musicians were doing. One artist in particular was called Daedelus. The man was part magician, part robot, part living ,breathing interface. But I could only patch together glimpses of him. I would see an elbow sweep, fingers depressing lighted squares and eyes darting back and forth between devices....devices that I'd never seen before.  Well, there were laptops  housing the sounds, loops, glitches and samples..but the devices were in control...... As I took a closer look after the crowd went outside to simultaneously smoke and tweet...this is what I saw.....

tehn with two fifty six from tehn on Vimeo.

It's called a Monome Box.  It has 256 buttons...basically a midi controller with an "adaptable minimalist interface"... whose applications include "tonal Maps, math simulations, drum machines, live sample cutters." It's been around for 5 years. It's old already.

It can also open a garage door anywhere on earth, program your dvr, erase bad memories of one night stands gone horribly wrong and  store logorithms that would allow any lonely engineer to hack into a live nude chat room.

It made me think of this:

I was entertained .I really was. The work involved in creating the bitmaps of soundscapes and the filmstrip of musical moods impressed me. There are worlds that we will never touch out there. Worlds that will connect around us and free us from within or swallow us whole.

256 buttons and everything's on.
Every sound your Les Paul has ever made is in there..and out there somewhere.
A 2 second borrowed riff, too short for recognition is a stitch in time between massive beats, polyrhythms and unheard of hybrids that make up melodies. It finishes a bridge that goes by in a digital blur.

The Wall-E world is coming.
I'm going to order up a virtual concert soon, from a bit torrent pirate satellite that bypasses any Live Nation Police Radar.... Maybe Zep at Earls Court '75.. Right in my living room.


How many hours are in a day? Not enough for rock. Do you want to know why I fully support stem cell research, because I need to be cloned. And could you make it happen by March 17th?

Here are the cards(role to be played by these cool event fliers) I've been dealt.  Part One:

All free , BTW.  Free Tacos, free beer, free love, free press...gonna get me some free.