Issue # 21 January 2001 thewigwambam.com
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Ignoring Objectivity Since 1998 WIG WAM BAM “Albuquerque zine of music & nepotism”
LOCAL SHOWS NM venues, bands from here or there
Fukrot, Someone Else's Problem, TNA, Uncle Ant, the Ladykillers, the Hopefuls, the Alarm Clocks, the Starlight Mints, Nitrous Burning Cactus Tractor, Oh Ranger!, Joe B Nobodys, the Big Spank, Texas Skate Punk Scrapbook (Film and Photo Show)
LOCAL ZINES
Lobotomy # 3 [12/2000]
LOCAL SHOWS
Fukrot, Someone Else’s Problem 12/5/00 @ Insurgo Another good hardcore mess complete with audience participation. The word on the street this night was that whichever band hurt itself the most wins. Someone’s Else’s Problem slammed the show open with Garth jumping on people a lot and singing/ shouting, rather than that the typical gruff crusty-type voice. For as loud & fast as they are, there’s still melody lurking beneath their noise. As for Fukrot, fuk melody. The songs may have been birthed with melody somewhere but the boys quickly bludgeon it to death sans mercy. This set might as well have been instrumental as, due to amplification problems, it was almost impossible to hear Napalm Seth. Although some people might applaud that, I found it somewhat unsettling (not that Fukrot has anything to do with putting you at ease) but a not uninteresting twist. TNA, Uncle Ant, the LadyKillers 12/10/00 @ Sprockets Although  the Ladykillers are quite danceable, they still remind me of a wedding reception band (too many styles jumbled together) but they do get lots of cred points for such an incredible array of influences and musical background in this day & age of increasing homogeny in the music biz. I admit I have a personal prejudice against “ jokey” songs, which most all of their tunes appear to be. Their sound of bass, drums & keyboards is rather nice however. Uncle Ant lost me right from the start. These guys looked like long-haired “bad boys” from the time when tattoos were still low class and not hip to Gen X. They have that Guns & Roses look with a pig-iron semi-punk sound. Some of their bonehead fans ended up in a fistfight in the dumb little pit they had going on. Drummer Ajax (?) was my favorite musician out of the lot. TNA took the stage with the cry “Less Sucking, More Rocking” (well actually Penny was shouting that during the moshpit incident, bless her little obnoxious heart). This was a much better set than that last Launchpad gig where the mix was off and left them sounding distant from one another. I think they benefit from a smaller venue. TNA are simply my new local favorite. To me, this is real punk—kinda fucked up and dissonant but still with melody, excitement and no satanisms (when & where did people get the idea that metal is punk?). TNA would have fit right in on the stage at CBGB in NY or the Masque in LA back in the day when punk included all kinds of diverse stylings. I simply have never heard any local bands that have a similar sound to these gals & guys. The HOPEFULS 12/15/00 @ Launchpad Christmas came early for me this year with former Hopefuls drummer Cara Tolino sitting in tonight after a last minute call and doing quite an admirable job after so long an absence. The band played pretty well—Amy ‘s guitar work is always nicely understated but outstanding as she hops around up there like Neil Young (hops like Neil Young, I didn’t say she sounds like him) and Ben vocalizes sweetly and Melissa works on the bottom end. But unfortunately, like the last time I caught them here, the sound left something to be desired—too distorted and not balanced, unfairly hiding the smooth melodies and hooks. Part of this could be attributed to the short set, being the opening act of the night, etc. Typically, any opening band has to deal with some sound shortfalls while the bugs are worked out, the system warms up and the place fills--ever notice how most shows sound better if the crowd’s not too small? And its not only the camaraderie of all your drinking buddies around but the effect lots of bodies have on the acoustics of the place. No offense to anyone but the work of J Dutch Worthington (now doing sound in California with big shots on yachts an’ shit. Really.) is missed here. Of course he did pay special attention to the Hopefuls because of his-- ah—interest in a certain bassist… the Alarm Clocks, the Starlight Mints 12/11/00 @ Launchpad I really wanted to like the Starlight Mints. I mean, what a great name for a pop band!  Or what was supposed to be a pop band. Sure, there were some good pop moments but song seemed to have about three or four different ideas each that didn’t quite fit. The changes were abrupt and intruded on the previous direction. And if a band doesn’t leave you with a tune stuck in your head afterwards, how can you call ‘em “pop”? Plus they didn’t even rock. Without shimmering hooks or a pounding backbeat, I lose interest quickly. They seemed decent enough musicians with a variety of instruments (two keyboards, a cello and lots of little percussion toys besides the usual guitars, bass, drums);  its obvious, however, that they knew what they wanted and where they were going. But it was as if their road maps to get there were cut & paste deals that cojoined their native Oklahoma with, say, Ohio and Minnesota. The Alarm Clocks are pop as fuck in their great New Wave way. And yes, I chose the phrase “pop as fuck” purposely, two words you wouldn’t ordinarily hear together but it fits as this was the most rockin’ Alarm Clocks show I’ve seen yet. The line-up? Chuck (Icelandic) jumped in on bass; (Nitrous Burning Cactus Tractor) on drums; the always efficacious Andrea with strap-on keyboard and second vox ; meanwhile frontman Isaac was having a devil of a time keeping the guitar around his neck, especially while being groped by some enthusiastic members of the audience. It’s a pity he isn’t in town more often but it’s always a treat to hear them--sort of like that delightful satisfaction you get after a well-prepared meal with (yes) a nice after-dinner mint. NITROUS BURNING CACTUS TRACTOR, OH RANGER! 12/22/00 @ Launchpad I sadly caught only about a song and a half of the Oh, Ranger! set and what I heard made me wish I was there for more. I’ve been trying to hear Nitrous Burning Cactus Tractor for awhile now. Besides the unfortunate name (and numerous tuning breaks), I was quite impressed at the musicianship; and surprised at the style. Formerly (more or less) Hug, the earliest incarnation of that band I saw (last January with Split Lip Rayfield) had lots of twang as well as different line-up. Notable were all of NBCT’s instruments. ----‘s drum kit was a neat & tidy little affair with one of the smallest kick drums I’ve ever seen; in fact the kick, floor tom and rack tom looked as if they’d stack nicely into one another like Chinese Boxes. Jeffrey’s five string bass was strung with only four. Frontman John not only plays leftie but with a guitar strung right-handed; that is, the bass strings are on the bottom rather than the top. This not only affects the way you form chords but the way it’s strummed—an upstroke in effect becomes a downstroke and vice versa. It sure couldn’t have been easy to learn this way. No guitar teacher would ever teach this and there’s certainly no tablature or Mel Bay books for reversed chords. None of this affected their songs however; original, thought-out and sweetly played. I left before Celebration was up --formerly crash Kills Four (what is it about the bands on the Socyermom label that they change their names so much? Are they on the run from the law or is it simply Leonard hounding them with bill collectors for overdue studio time…?). It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see them (I did and do) but I was trying to catch TNA at Sprocket’s. I do love well-composed music by talented musicians but I need fucked-up rock n’ roll as much as the air I breathe. Well, like most Sprockets shows, this one started and ended early (what’s the deal at this venue? They’re fucking with the whole Albuquerque time/space show continuum!). All was not lost, however, as I ended up at TNA bassist Lawrence’s house at 3AM for some of the most fucked-up rock n’ roll I’ve ever heard (as it tends to get in those wee hours) with a couple of Joe B. Nobodies and whoever else wasn’t (or was) too drunk to sit in; a veritable orgy of---ummm---never mind. JOE B NOBODIES (almost), BIG SPANK 12/23/00 @ Sprockets I hear Big Spank has been around for a long time but this was my first. Alternating between a four to six piece (guitars, drums, bass, accordion [yes!], trombone, sax), they were strong on the ska (wow! Who plays ska anymore?) That third wave ska boom lasted about three minutes (locally, Giant Steps, Three Ball Combo; nationally, No Doubt [damn good pop, ska or not], Bosstones, Save Ferris, etc). However, my favorite tunes of the set were the first third, the accordion ones. These were polka tempo and played well; not surprising in that half of these guys looked like they grew up in households with norteno music spilling from the radio into the neighborhood. That’s not to say the rest wasn’t played equally as well; its just that most ska bands tend to be a bit goofy and I’ve never made a secret of the fact that I strongly dislike most jokey lyrics—these always smack of novelty tunes to me. In any case, it was apparent that Big Spank practices; they were tight and spot on throughout their set. This was the night of Joe B Nobodies first real show (besides open mikes and such) but things didn’t go as planned. Their guitarist bailed from the gig about, oh, ten-fifteen minutes before they were up. To their credit, the rest of the band carried on undeterred. Justin on vocals was joined by (from TNA) Lawrence on bass & Midnight Penny on the most fucked up punk rock drum kit I’ve ever laid eyes on—it looked as if it was fished from the dumpster a few minutes ago. Spank’s guitarist/ accordionist Mike jumped in at the last minute with his axe. Justin, a large advocate of hardcore & noise, was all over the stage and floor, rolling around tied up in his mike cord in best punk rock fashion. The singing spot rotated as, soon afterwards, a Sprockets employee (sorry man; I don’t know your name) took over the drum seat so Penny could strap on Mike’s guitar and vocalize. Lawrence took a few turns as well, reminding me of early (’78) New York punks like the Mad. Even though the remaining (ex?) Nobodies were a bit peeved at their MIA member, it was a wonderful set, great fun and as loose as a pair of two dollar shoes. It was wide open to all possibilities and that’s what makes true punk rock in my book. TEXAS SKATEPUNK SCRAPBOOK film & photo show 1/4/01 @ Insurgo A night of surprises as no one knew quite what to expect from Bill Daniel’s show --a collection of 1980-84 punk photos and an off-the-wall collection of vintage skate and /or punk short films. Local 16mm weirdos Basement Films set up this stop of the traveling show. Hung on Isurgo’s wall were photos of audiences and “old school” bands like Toxic Shock, Minor Threat etc., all of them quite handsome (the photos I mean; not the ugly punkers!). The 11 films screened included these highlights: Skateboarding to Safety (1975) This was probably shown in schools around the country about the hazards of boarding but actually served to make tricks like hitching rides on cars appear easy as well as fun. Skaterdater (‘65) The crowd pleasing hit of the evening, this dialogue-free saga featured a bunch of freckle-faced skate kids that looked like the Beach Boys before their balls dropped. When one of them neglects his boarding for the girl he keeps (literally) running into, the others ditch him. Soon thereafter, a couple more boys in the group notice the enticing babes admiring them from the curb who, by implication, will break up the gang as twelve year old vixens are known to do… Late Air (1984) A deceptively simple yet gorgeous five minutes of late night skaters on the deserted streets of downtown Austin and Dallas. On the downside were a couple of pretty much useless films. One ignored the killer bands on stage (like Bad Brains) for five minutes of stage-diving/moshpit idiocy. On second thought, I guess this flick has legitimacy as an historical document of the trend that turned the tide for early punk rock from a miasma of varied styles, musical exploration and open experimentation into a formulaic no-brainer, fit for consumption by the masses, although said masses did take fifteen years to catch on. Make no mistake: the divers and slammers in this film are the direct ancestors of boneheads who continue this legacy along to the uninspired claptrap of Limp Bisquick and Rage Against the Copy Machine. Clown Ramp (‘83) A jumble of unrecognizable images shot on Super 8 by a camera taped to the skater’s helmet. Although I’m sure it was the intention, this was definitely not what a skater sees; the camera just cannot capture the split-second images that the human eye and brain make sense out of. Great idea, poor result. I’m not sure that a concept like this can be properly executed. The last film Hardcore Home Movie (87) consisted of denizens of San Francisco’s famed Club Mabuhey with voice-over comments about the scene, reminiscent of Penelope Spheeris’ 1979-80 classic punkumentary Decline Of Western Civilization. A fine way to end the evening. On a final note, unlike many of Insurgo’s shows, there was a refreshing full house, in part due to the Weekly Alibi’s “art pic” preview. Thanks, Alibi, but c’mon you guys—shouldn’t you print the address of the venue in question? Especially a place that has gotten barely a nod from you in the past? I realize that hardcore kids are nowhere in your same social circle that passes for the music scene here but the Albuquerque Collective (who operate Insurgo) are providing another musical choice for this town. Competition with the bar scene is a non-issue as most crusty kids don’t go downtown anyway nor would even if they had a few more bucks in their patch-covered pockets.
LOCAL ZINES
LOBOTOMY #3 12/00 12pp, _ legal, monthly (sort of); free dailylobotomy@yahoo.com Another issue of the student answer to the “official” UNM newspaper, the Daily Lobo. A very good idea but do we really need another zine featuring an explanation of anarchy and a Food Not Bombs piece? Next thing you know, they’ll be a discussion of vegetarian versus meat eating… I guess they will always be a need for an some kind of intro to these topics for freshman and the newly politicized. Actually, that complaint pales in comparison to the Food Not Bombs piece not copping to oftentimes scoring food from dumpsters. Not that there’s anything wrong with that; I have in the past and know many folks who do so regularly with no ill effects (use common sense here, kids) but people ought to know what you’re feeding ‘em.
Wig Wam Bam (by Captain America PO BX 4865 Albq NM 87196 captainamerica1941@hotmail.com) is spewed forth monthly and left unasked for at AstroZombies, Bow Wow, Natural Sound, University Comics, mecca, Insurgo (all ages showspace & home to the Albuquerque Collective—they need your support you deadbeats!) and venues such as the Lunchpail, Sprockettes, Moonlight Scrounge, and whenever bands I like are booked. Our motto: shut up and do something.
Wig Wam Bam is written by Captain America  | po box 4865 | albuquerque, nm 87196