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.
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