While I hate to be so repetitive and not delivered my promised article on The Stooges I just saw a show last night and it was a doozie.
Attending with my band mate Alex Adler, his room mate Hee-Jae, and his brother whose name escapes me we arrived as the first band, Trotsky Icepick was finishing up. That was my, and the promoter's first big mistake. These last few songs were mesmerizing. I knew nothing over them prior, but I am certainly now a fan. It's hard, in fact for me impossible not to compare them to Guided by Voices. They are certainly peers in every way though perhaps with greater musicianship. Though my exploration into their world is very fresh I recommend anyone reading to follow suit after this energizing performance.
So at this point I was so heated up I needed to find a swimming ground immediately. But we, for some reason had another act in between. Flamingo, one of the oddest looking bands I've ever seen. Adler thought they must have been in high school, but I thought they were older guys that just looked like babies. There was a nerdy drummer who looked like Jimmy Flemion, Elijah wood on bass, and a guy I was pretty sure the other guitarist (by far the best member) was either tripping or autistic. Then came the front man. He was the biggest embarrassment I have seen onstage. They were the kind of band that seems like they don't even listen to music, and judging by the front man's hair they've never even seen a picture of a real rock band before.
While they started off strong every song went on for an excruciatingly long time. The first few were instrumentals and had enough excitement to get you real amped for the vocals. After what seemed like 25 minutes the vocals came in and on top of the band's ungodly image and painful song lengths they pushed the set into unarguable suckage. However, it got even worse. This disgusting excuse for a front man also thought himself a comedian and tortured us with banter even more excessive than his songs. The material was almost entirely self-deprecating fat jokes, which we all know were never good enough for any of the great fat comedians. As a fat guy myself I am reluctant to criticize a front man for his weight, but in addition to being "annoying fat" (the range beyond acceptability and below sympathy) he attempted to use it to his advantage and this was far more embarrassing than his unfortunate build. The music continued for at least an hour, successfully killing my buzz from Trotsky Icepick.
Luckily the Meat Puppets were up next. What's left to say about the Puppets? Not much. They are probably the best live band, barring only Flash Gilmore & the Funbeatles and Guided by Voices, to appear on stage in the last 30 years. They've still got it, they play the hits, they jam, they blow your mind. Yeah, yeah, it would be better if Derrick Bostrom were still with them, but Shandon Sahm is just fine.
See the Meat Puppets, as many times as possible.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
New Direction
I've let this thing go to waste too much in the past, wow, year and a half.
Well, after spending a lot of time with magazines like Ugly Things and Shindig! I think I need to contribute my generations voice to that sort of thing. What a damaged bunch we are. We came from a different time where our introduction to rock music came from megahits of the early 90s about school shootings and torture and the next trend hit a climax with Woodstock 99. Popular music hit, perhaps it's all-time nadir in the dawn of the new millennium (in terms of popularity over quality) before the internet shattered it all to bits. In which case many of us were too willing to build an allegiance to Pitchfork Media. That much-maligned source is no more guilty of damaging popular taste than past troublemakers like Rolling Stone had almost forty years prior.
And they weren't done with their awful tricks either. Many of us ran away into the past when music was better. Better music, of course, as according to such authoritative resources as classic rock radio, old-fashioned VH-1 programming, and the history rewriting magazines of yore. Needless to say the effects were not much better.
The best thing we got were the Strokes, and they stand as a testament to the sad state of rock music as it was in much better shape ten whole years ago. "Last Nite," perhaps the most popular rock song of the last decade plus still only made it to 108 on the singles chart (14 in the hyped-up UK market), a position bested by many of the obscure artist I have read about in the aforementioned publications. Even worse, that took their famously well-connected parents, remarkable looks, and unparalleled talent. It sure is fun to listen to you, but just can't give you the same kind of hope a sixties hit like "Psychotic Reaction" could.
Worst of all many of us are still impressed by hip-hop. It's a sad state.
So, rather than continue to take the risk of giving away free music I'll just write about rock music. The real stuff, the way I see it just like the greats before me like Mike Stax, Lester Bangs, Laurent Bigot, etc. I come from a time where rock wasn't for dancing, it was for sulking, and being in a band would never, ever, ever, get you girls, it would get you arrested and not even with a fun story leading up to it. That's my life and times and it's the only thing I love.
Coming soon, I talk about how my generation actually understands the Stooges better than the older guys, if you can believe that.
Well, after spending a lot of time with magazines like Ugly Things and Shindig! I think I need to contribute my generations voice to that sort of thing. What a damaged bunch we are. We came from a different time where our introduction to rock music came from megahits of the early 90s about school shootings and torture and the next trend hit a climax with Woodstock 99. Popular music hit, perhaps it's all-time nadir in the dawn of the new millennium (in terms of popularity over quality) before the internet shattered it all to bits. In which case many of us were too willing to build an allegiance to Pitchfork Media. That much-maligned source is no more guilty of damaging popular taste than past troublemakers like Rolling Stone had almost forty years prior.
And they weren't done with their awful tricks either. Many of us ran away into the past when music was better. Better music, of course, as according to such authoritative resources as classic rock radio, old-fashioned VH-1 programming, and the history rewriting magazines of yore. Needless to say the effects were not much better.
The best thing we got were the Strokes, and they stand as a testament to the sad state of rock music as it was in much better shape ten whole years ago. "Last Nite," perhaps the most popular rock song of the last decade plus still only made it to 108 on the singles chart (14 in the hyped-up UK market), a position bested by many of the obscure artist I have read about in the aforementioned publications. Even worse, that took their famously well-connected parents, remarkable looks, and unparalleled talent. It sure is fun to listen to you, but just can't give you the same kind of hope a sixties hit like "Psychotic Reaction" could.
Worst of all many of us are still impressed by hip-hop. It's a sad state.
So, rather than continue to take the risk of giving away free music I'll just write about rock music. The real stuff, the way I see it just like the greats before me like Mike Stax, Lester Bangs, Laurent Bigot, etc. I come from a time where rock wasn't for dancing, it was for sulking, and being in a band would never, ever, ever, get you girls, it would get you arrested and not even with a fun story leading up to it. That's my life and times and it's the only thing I love.
Coming soon, I talk about how my generation actually understands the Stooges better than the older guys, if you can believe that.
Friday, May 20, 2011
My First DVD Review!
And it's for my favorite band of the 80s!
A few weeks ago I was in the East Bay with my bandmate Alex Adler for what turned out to be the supposedly second to last Flash Gilmore & the Funbeatles Show. Before that historic night we took a trip out to Berkley where Adler picked up this fine DVD I have been unable to find since returning to Los Angeles.
We spent the two less eventful nights of that trip watching this DVD and it's bonus features and what a knockout. For a DVD it was not a bad competitor against Flash's jaw-dropping performance on "Earth Girl."
The general feature compiles live footage of the Pups at their commercial peak hot off their tour and the brothers' televised appearance with Nirvana and the subsequent album Too High to Die. Some are from big shows, other small, plus a lot of record store appearances, surprisingly. For every occasion the band lives up to its legendary status. In fact, these performances wiped any doubt I had that Derrick Bostrom was a worthy sideman to the Kirkwoods. His skill is clearly sufficient, though I hesitate to say equal to those virtuosos. These stellar live performances are interspersed with backstage tour videos that capture the trio's unique personalities and luckily slow down the relentless pace and unbelievable energy of the live shows.
The bonus features, though, are even better. We see an excited young girl interview Curt around the time of Huevos, memories from Derrick Bostrom, and a somber reflection on the band by Mike Watt, retelling his departed bandmate D. Boon's love of their music. However these are easily forgotten compared to an inspirational conversation between Cris, Mike Watt, and Flea essential for not just bassists but any musician with dreams. Almost as engaging is Thurston Moore's story of his first encounter with the Meat Puppets after fantasizing about the mysterious group from the desert. Every crazy thing you could imagine about the Pups is confirmed in Moore's account of what one must assume was their first trip to New York City.
The only clunker is the inclusion of the "We Don't Exist" video that reminds us just how bad some grungey 90s videos were. It's a shame as their other 90s videos are actually pretty good! The whole thing ends with a hyper performance of "Good Golly Miss Molly" that no fan should miss.
Best rock DVD ever.
If you looking for more here's a great recent interview with the Kirkwoods documenting their whole story.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
John Maus/Geneva Jacuzzi/Holy Shit at the Echo 5/13
Probably nobody reading this has noticed I don't review shows often. They probably don't even realize it's been a very long time since I've updated. Either way, I felt this show needed to be reviewed immediately. Here's a little update too: I live in LA again and I am actually listening to new music and enjoying it! It's been a good year. So moving on...
Holy Shit was the performer I had heard the least prior to that evening. They were reduced to a trio due to a missing keyboard player. They had a cool style rooted, unsurprisingly in early postpunk/goth, particularly evoking the Cure. I am sure their records are pretty good but it was a pretty disappointing performance. While the three played well, particularly the drummer It really looked like they were not having any fun. Maybe the singer/guitarist a bit, but definitely not the bassist. He stood there as still as most of the goons in the typical LA audience with the presence (and disguise) of a man at least twice his age. He was so bland (and his instrument least audible) sometimes you forgot he was there. All that did was make you notice that the drummer didn't seem much happier. Good music, disappointing performance, but at least they were first.
In between sets a woman in shiny Arabasque disguise and black and white makeup lurked through the audience. I briefly feared it was a cougar (though perhaps not consciously) occultist who had taken a strong liking to me on Valentine's Day, but much to my relief and excitement it was Ms. Jacuzzi herself. She took the stage alone with only a small synthesizer to keep her company and immediately made me think that while I never got to see Kate Bush and Siouxsie Sioux at their prime I at least had this. Every aspect from her theatricality, to the lighting, to her voice and Moroder-esque atmospheres evoked my greatest dreams and fantasies. Several songs into the set she stripped over her excessive layers down to a more formfitting black ensemble and let down her majestic brown hair. Of course all the men in the audience who failed to observe carefully or do their homework before the show were now aware they were in the presence of perhaps the most beautiful woman in Los Angeles and moved up. I was stuck behind a goon of height comparable height who barely even moved to the beat. Typical Los Angeles, but nothing could ruin this. In fact it may have been a good thing as I probably would have been visibly aroused otherwise. If you like bizarre performances, great disco-goth, and agree that darkness should always be in the spirit of fun you cannot miss Geneva Jacuzzi.
Next we had the headliner himself John Maus. Where I had previously described the University of Hawaii professor as "post-outsider" I immediately dropped the "post" as soon as he took the stage. I have not seen any performances like this before, but when I think about it, that's surprising. He took the stage alone with just a microphone but with the presence of Ian Curtis and Arthur Russell. Basically it was like watching someone rock out to his own CD. Yet it was way more exciting than a lot of bands I've seen. In fact, most. The energetic Maus would often scream off the mic and beat his chest with said device just in case you forgot you were seeing something special. As awkwardly as the songs ended the set was relentless and the seemingly well-initiated audience was in full force for his classics like "Rights for Gays," and "Do Your Best." That being said I am sure I wasn't the only one a little disappointed with his format which naturally would have to exclude "Navy Seals." Of all artists I've seen John Maus was maybe the most excited I've seen and as a fan of his what more could you ask for?
Now, this could be part of the fact that the show was on Friday the 13th, but I know the initiated wonder about the absence of "Ariel Pink" from this review. Well all of us in the audience thought the same thing. Not only is he presumably that missing keyboard player from Holy Shit, but also the missing boyfriend of Geneva Jacuzzi. Not to mention his collaborations with Maus. While I am glad his assumed presence was not a selling point for this show it was still a sad blow to follow R. Stevie Moore having dropped out of the lineup. These men's attendance would have of course made the show much better, but anyone there has little to complain about.
Holy Shit was the performer I had heard the least prior to that evening. They were reduced to a trio due to a missing keyboard player. They had a cool style rooted, unsurprisingly in early postpunk/goth, particularly evoking the Cure. I am sure their records are pretty good but it was a pretty disappointing performance. While the three played well, particularly the drummer It really looked like they were not having any fun. Maybe the singer/guitarist a bit, but definitely not the bassist. He stood there as still as most of the goons in the typical LA audience with the presence (and disguise) of a man at least twice his age. He was so bland (and his instrument least audible) sometimes you forgot he was there. All that did was make you notice that the drummer didn't seem much happier. Good music, disappointing performance, but at least they were first.
In between sets a woman in shiny Arabasque disguise and black and white makeup lurked through the audience. I briefly feared it was a cougar (though perhaps not consciously) occultist who had taken a strong liking to me on Valentine's Day, but much to my relief and excitement it was Ms. Jacuzzi herself. She took the stage alone with only a small synthesizer to keep her company and immediately made me think that while I never got to see Kate Bush and Siouxsie Sioux at their prime I at least had this. Every aspect from her theatricality, to the lighting, to her voice and Moroder-esque atmospheres evoked my greatest dreams and fantasies. Several songs into the set she stripped over her excessive layers down to a more formfitting black ensemble and let down her majestic brown hair. Of course all the men in the audience who failed to observe carefully or do their homework before the show were now aware they were in the presence of perhaps the most beautiful woman in Los Angeles and moved up. I was stuck behind a goon of height comparable height who barely even moved to the beat. Typical Los Angeles, but nothing could ruin this. In fact it may have been a good thing as I probably would have been visibly aroused otherwise. If you like bizarre performances, great disco-goth, and agree that darkness should always be in the spirit of fun you cannot miss Geneva Jacuzzi.
Next we had the headliner himself John Maus. Where I had previously described the University of Hawaii professor as "post-outsider" I immediately dropped the "post" as soon as he took the stage. I have not seen any performances like this before, but when I think about it, that's surprising. He took the stage alone with just a microphone but with the presence of Ian Curtis and Arthur Russell. Basically it was like watching someone rock out to his own CD. Yet it was way more exciting than a lot of bands I've seen. In fact, most. The energetic Maus would often scream off the mic and beat his chest with said device just in case you forgot you were seeing something special. As awkwardly as the songs ended the set was relentless and the seemingly well-initiated audience was in full force for his classics like "Rights for Gays," and "Do Your Best." That being said I am sure I wasn't the only one a little disappointed with his format which naturally would have to exclude "Navy Seals." Of all artists I've seen John Maus was maybe the most excited I've seen and as a fan of his what more could you ask for?
Now, this could be part of the fact that the show was on Friday the 13th, but I know the initiated wonder about the absence of "Ariel Pink" from this review. Well all of us in the audience thought the same thing. Not only is he presumably that missing keyboard player from Holy Shit, but also the missing boyfriend of Geneva Jacuzzi. Not to mention his collaborations with Maus. While I am glad his assumed presence was not a selling point for this show it was still a sad blow to follow R. Stevie Moore having dropped out of the lineup. These men's attendance would have of course made the show much better, but anyone there has little to complain about.
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