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Issue # 25 May 2001 thewigwambam.com |
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| Ignoring Objectivity Since 1998
WIG WAM BAM “Albuquerque zine of music & nepotism” 
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| Texas Terri and the Stiff Ones, Beefcake
In Chains, Raven Chacon, Falling Down Drunk, Below the Sound, B-Movie Rats,
Fukrot, the Hopefuls, The Eyeliners, Shanghai Testarosa, Flaco Jimenez, ManPlanet,
the Derelectrics, Eddie Shaw, Kill Sadie |
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LOCAL
RELEASES
Local bands, any label |
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| Below The Sound [s/t CD 2001] the Derelectrics Shock Hazard [CD 1998] The Tattersaints Low Orbit [CD 2001] |
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| LOCAL
ZINES |
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| Lizard “the land of lounge and beyond” Lobotomoy #5 Vol. I 3/01 |
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| OMAHA
NEBRASKA |
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the Antiquarium Record Shop, Five Story
Fall, Cerny |
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| LOCAL
SHOWS |
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Texas Terri and the Stiff Ones, Beefcake In Chains 4/6/01 @ Launchpad IT’S TERRI’S BIRTHDAY TODAY and what a celebration! Texas Terri kicks proverbial ass for someone who’s practically straightedge. Her daily yoga helps, I’m certain. Amazed by her stamina and endurance, I wanted to ask her age but bound by convention, I was a gentleman and didn’t. Look, whether you wanna admit it or not, once women are out of their twenties, society’s conventions get skewed. Ick! 
Whether by bringing on a singer from the opening band or pulling the two geeks who brought her a birthday cake (with white frosting just like she asked for) up to the stage, Terri happily encourages audience participation. With all the goofy dancers onstage for the encore, it looked like damn Hullabaloo up there (Hullabaloo = obscure TV reference that Terri’s surely not old enough to remember). Best of all was the gal wearing a Don’t Mess With Texas tee shirt that Terri amended with black marker to Don’t Mess With Texas Terri. I sure hope the marker was laundry proof because that shirt’s a keeper. The Stiff Ones kicked it out in high degree as always, a powerhouse of a band with a killer participant in their roadie who provided a couple a’ vocals, sparklers for the cake and a pair of roman candles for ambiance. Yeah! This entire crew knows what a show is besides blazing tunes. Openers Beefcake In Chains continue to improve the rock no matter what you naysayers think. High off the good review of the 7” in Hitlist mag (so what if it was a different line-up when recorded), they cranked it out in lusty lewd leadfoot style, amped up about twelve notches. With only one Spanky Sister left in the group, there were a lot of pairs of eyes on one pair of… nevermind. Raven Chacon senior composition recital 4/13/01 @ Keller Hall, UNM In the Classical music tradition, this whole night is credited to Raven Chacon as the writer/composer although he only appeared onstage for one of ten pieces but good lord! if all this surfaced from one mind, its terrifying to think of how much other stuff is still inside his skull. I couldn’t write half a Ramones song if I tried. I don’t understand the process of writing in this form (definitely starting in the Classical tradition, then tweaked into the realms of avant garde and beyond) but guitar, marimba, brass, violin, cello, viola, oboe, flute, percussion, synthesizer and theremin were used in these ambitious compositions-- is a part actually written for each instrument or are they interpreted by each musician? In any case, the composer would need some grasp of each instrument’s capabilities and its certain Chacon does. As his senior work, I would guess he’s getting graded for this. And although I’d never met him before, I also guessed that half the crowd was his family. I’ve spent a lot of time working (and hangin’ out) at various reservations but my first impression upon walking into the hall was “Man! there’s a lotta skins here!”. Some of the elders would certainly be more at home with Ye”ii Bicheii or Nightway songs but family is family and it looked like the whole outfit showed up. And like Ind’ ins everywhere (the most hospitable folks in the world), the ladies jumped directly into action for the post-show reception. Food filled the buffet table with lightning speed. All that was missing was a big pot of mutton stew but I’m not complaining. Falling Down Drunk 4/14/01@ Insurgo Sometimes, I love my fuckin’ life (when I don’t, its usually my own crap attitude at fault more than anything else). Take today: after a morning of prancing around on campus planting my pretty li’l flowerbeds, eating lunch with & talking farming to the monthly meeting of the local Cherokee Tribal Township, I wind up at Insurgo to have my brains blasted by some blistering hardcore from out of state. After about ten minutes of this, I do weary (I need melody) but it truly was the perfect cap to the mellow day. Its not too hard to see through the bandname: it allows them to say by way of introduction, “Hi. We’re Falling Down Drunk” (which they didn’t tonight but I’m sure they’ve taken plenty opportunities to do just that). One character at the show was also quite inspired: have you ever seen someone slam dance with himself? No, not by himself but with himself. Even though I’m too old & crotchety to enjoy such shenanigans, this kid was truly awe-inspiring. Hey man, whoever you are: if you’re not straightedge, let me know if you need to score a forty-ounce or something sometime. Below The Sound, B-Movie Rats, Fukrot 4/18/01 @ Launchpad Everyone’s favorite local crust heroes Fukrot have recently been reduced to a three piece with Greg and Miles now sharing vocals. And while its still weird to watch Fukrot up on a stage and not have them thrashing off of you in their frenzy (or have Miles bleeding on you), it is a treat to hear them through a mixing board. Things become clearer (well, as clear as this kinda stuff gets); you can focus in on each of these Marx Brothers of grind. You can’t see Eben up there for shit though. Besides drumming way too fast for the human eye (and just about the ear), his rack toms, higher than anyone else around, hide him well. Reminds me of the old story of Ringo Starr setting his cymbals at 45° to deflect bullets when the Beatles received death threats early on in their career. The B-Movie Rats have pretty much dropped their punk past and found religion, and brother, that religion is rocknroll. Their hair is longer, the tattoos are greasier and they look ten years older than they did five years ago. They poured it on thick and fast like warmed syrup on a stack of hotcakes. While not quite as tasty as all that, it was rock solid work like the kind you can do on a winter morning after a flapjack breakfast. Troupers all, they didn’t bitch (too much) about the lack of numbers in the crowd -- they just tore it up. Unless I miscounted, there’s three of the original line-up left plus a new(er) drummer and guitar player, the latter who pulled out some good Keith Richards style slide guitar licks. And if you’re scoffing at the mention of that name, listen up chump: for better or worse (depending on your taste), there’s a handful of bands (one for each finger) who’ve put rocknroll where it is today --the Beatles, Stones, Stooges, Dolls, Pistols and Ramones (yeah I know six fingers makes for a strange-lookin’ hand but the genre has always been populated by freaks and mutates). If you kids paid attention to history, I wouldn’t have to tell you any of this. I hate to come off like a prick (well, not really) but I told you so! Its gratifying as hell to see people catching up to Below the Sound. I first saw them exactly a year & one week ago. The style & tempo has changed from an early Girls Against Boys sort of sound, smooth & deliberate to more driving but paced & anticipatory heavy rock . In fact, things are moving right along for this three-piece as their brand new CD (see RELEASES below) is behind what they’re doing now. You gotta love a band that evolves, just as I love a show like this with differing musical styles that converge nicely. the Hopefuls 4/21/01 @ Burt’s The Hopefuls warts-and-all set. But still, it was a good excuse to get my ass out to Burt’s. Look, its not like I avoid the lounge on purpose or anything-- sure, whoever designed the layout should be shot: if you wanna sit at the bar or tables, you’re packed butt to butt with hipsters; if you just wanna watch the band, everyone in the place has to walk right in front of you –there’s merely few bands I want to see there. On the other hand, there’s lots of space on the dancefloor or if you shoot pool, you got all the room in the world. And the lay-out is fine for an intimate band or solo act. Of course, the “never a cover” policy can’t be beat. So, things balance out. Sorta. This set didn’t sound as bad as the Hopes seemed to think. Yeah, the PA wasn’t so good but it wasn’t muddy and you could hear everyone well (except Anne’s keyboards; she just needed a couple more notches up). There was some slop here & there and the last set was a repeat (no one noticed by that time-- last call y’know) but it was sort of like a garage show; just hanging and watching your buddies jam out a little. Plus that old Who cover (Can’t Explain) is always welcome. Cara looked like if she concentrated any harder on her drumming she would’ve passed out (there were reasons but we won’t go into those here). Amy & Melissa could stand to be closer to the mike when they sing but I’m just nitpicking. Although not one of their most stellar performances, they were playing as a band which goes to show how far they’ve come. I just can’t wait to see how far they’ll go. Pretty far I think. the Eyeliners, Shanghai Testarosa 5/4/01 @ Insurgo Can’t say I paid too much attention this night as I was in & out of the parking lot hanging out with a bunch of jaded & bitchy grown-ups (like, 25 year olds) while mostly high school kids gigged & watched inside. Consequently, I can’t exactly remember just who did what or even who was who of the first three bands. Rock n’ roll senility is creeping in! The first band was pretty simple poppy punk and the crowd reaction was simple as well: almost none – no pogoing, nary a bobbing head. I think you can attribute this lack of enthusiasm these days to the general lack of underage drinking; “Its cool to be clean” and all that. This D.A.R.E. shit is farther reaching than you think. Outside I went. One of the bands covered Three Small Words from the Josie & the Pussycats movie soundtrack (think female Blink 182). To their credit, no kids in the crowd admitted to knowing this song. I know it (geek!) because I like the singer, Letters To Cleo’s Kaye Hanley; no, she’s the actual singer, not the bubblehead lip-sync actress of the flick, which was about as bad as you’d expect. Or even worse. The songs are catchy though (I said “catchy”. I didn’t say anything about “good”). Harder & faster, the next band did inspire some pit action which I dislike quite enough in the bars but getting slammed by seventeen year-old testosterone-addled boys is more than this geezer could deal with so outside I went once again. For Shanghai Testarosa’s set, damn right I was front & center. They’re the best new local band this year, hands down. Together for maybe a month & a half or something, they pulled out three new songs tonight. Great simple beats of catchy ass-wiggling new-wavey popnroll goodness. Too bad they’re splitting up soon. Yes, its that time of year again when everyone graduates and leaves town. Or wonders what the hell they’re still doing here after graduating three years ago. Drummer Andrea’s off to Chicago, tambourine mistress Tonya is going to Prague (Prague? bet she was an art major) and singer/guitarist Matt is heading back to Salt Lake City to make sure there’s some rock for wayward Mormon kids. No word on bassist Felice’s next career move. The Eyeliners played to an enthusiastic house who were mostly there to see them in the first place. Insurgo was at city ordinance capacity and had to turn people away. The head count inside the place is irrelevant – it’s the number of paid admissions that the Fire Marshall limits. Stupid? Yes. I enjoyed the ‘liners more than I have for awhile as a cramped all-ages space with less-than-great acoustics encourages more slop and plain rockin’ than a club with a slick PA. My revelation tonight is that maybe I don’t really like punk. Except maybe Shanghai, all the bands tonight would qualify as a type of “punk” whether pop-, hardcore-, emo- etc, none of which I’m particularly admiring of. Hmmm. Flaco Jimenez 5/5/01 @ Camel Rock Casino Though probably one of the tamer locations for a Tex-Mex band on Cinco de Mayo (no alcohol on the Rez, casino or not), Tesuque Pueblo’s Camel Rock showroom was a great spot for a great name in conjunto music, the legendary Flaco Jimenez, the Jimi Hendrix of norteno accordion. It’s a good room with a good sound system but mostly goes to waste featuring better-off-dead one-hit wonder reunion bands. I’ve managed to miss the only promising shows there last year; Paul Revere & the Raiders (I shit you not; these guys started out as great early 60s garage rockers) and Los Straitjackets (how did they get booked here? hip white guys in Mexican wrestling masks playing surf). So, I was determined not to miss out on El Flaco. Unfortunately, I forgot that he’s won several Grammies in the token Hispanic Music category and plays for mostly crossover crowds these days. There was too much Texas in this show and not enough Tejas if you know what I mean. Some guy named Roger Rabbit played really wank Stevie Ray Vaughan rip-off bar-band tunes as well as note for note Santana covers when the aging Jimenez took a break (Black Magic Woman and Oye Como Va? How did you guess!).Flaco’s son David was fair on drums, the bass player had a little funk action going but some jerkass George Strait wannabe on lead vocals was intolerable. Jimenez’s long-time harmony vocalist/bajo sexto player Oscar Tellez was the saving grace of the band, especially on the few corridos when it was just him & Flaco plus unobtrusive bass. These were the highlights, the songs where you wanted to watch the dancing of the elder manitos who were just delightful and so very graceful unlike the gringo couples who hopped around in an uninformed polka-frenzy. But despite all my whining, it was great to see Flaco wielding his accordion, listen to his gravelly old man’s voice cracking corny jokes in Spanglish. No longer pushing boundaries, the man’s entitled to rest on his laurels and enjoy the accolades heaped upon him. And he covered an ancient Beatles tune Love Me Do; although a shitty song, it has a place in my heart as the first 7 inch (we called ‘em 45s back then) I ever owned. If you wanna hear his work, skip the new recordings with lame guest stars like Dwight Yoakum or Stephen Stills but go straight for his vintage norteno stuff from the 60s. Or for something more accessible to the gabacho ear yet still pretty authentic, check out his heavy guest work on slide-guitar legend Ry Cooder’s 1976 LP Chicken Skin Music, a classic. Or from Cooder’s 1974 LP Paradise and Lunch, Mexican Divorce, the absolute best Burt Bacharach cover ever performed. After years of obscurity, Cooder’s name now is best known as the guy who lately brought the Cubano music of The Havana Social Club (film & CD) to US audiences. He had enough sense to recognize the genius of Flaco Jimenez long before this whole World Music thing was known to the Starbucks sipping crowd. ManPlanet, the Derelectrics 5/7/01@ Launchpad Manplanet hadn’t even taken the stage before their asses were kicked by the Derelectrics who opened the show. The Derelectric instructional video on a laptop onstage, the fluorescent beakers of lurid bubbling fluids, the laser pointers attached to their glasses – all that stuff’s sort of cool but any sci-fi theme band can come up with similar theatrics. But none of them rock like these guys do. Man Or Astro-Man? and their clone projects are pretty much surf bands; Manplanet are sort of new wave Wings gene-spliced with Backstreet Boys. These guys, however, are the Psychedelic Stooges meet Ziggy Stardust & the Spiders from Mars (the granddaddy of sci-fi concept bands). The ‘lectrics are also more toward the sci than the fi end of the spectrum— no spaceships or extraterrestrial activity but making learning fun! just like geekazoid Bill Nye The Science Guy on PBS. I picked up their 1998 self-titled seven inch not long after it appeared and often wondered who & where the hell are these guys? They never played out anywhere as far as I could tell until lately. I couldn’t be happier about it. They rock. Manplanet are competent, they play catchy songs, they have excellent pyrotechnics, they have neat-o color co-ordinated vinyl jumpsuits. They’re fun and play well. They don’t rock. Eddie Shaw (reading) 5/9/01 @ mecca Books & Records You may or may not know the story of the early Beatles learning their chops by playing at joints like the Kaiserkeller or Star Club on the famed Reeperbahn, the strip in Hamburg, Germany that was habitat to drunks, whores, sailors on shore leave and bohemian art students. Some revisionist historians claim that the grueling rock n’ roll they played six or more hours a day (hopped on Preludin & other cheap speed) qualifies the Beatles as punks. Everybody & their brother claims to have been a disenfranchised pissed-off punk these days. Or to quote Kickboy Face (writer for Slash magazine 1977-80), “by now only the lettuce at the Safeway don’t look angry”. What’s forgotten is that there were lots of other “beat combos” (rock n’ roll bands) working the strip like Rory Storme & the Hurricanes or the Sputniks, all to varying degrees of pop success. Then there were the Monks; ex-GIs who shaved the crowns of their heads and made noise onstage the likes of which had nothing to do with rock n’ roll as it was then understood—feedback, stomping beats or one phrase repeated exactly 49 times. Of course the Monks were just as surprised as anyone when fifteen or twenty years later they were called the first punks. And to hear former Monk Eddie Shaw tell it, everyone even at that early date thought that the Beatles were pretty much mainstream. Which they were. Not so the Monks. Even now plenty of music lovers don’t know what to make of them. Eddie lives in Nevada now but stops off at likely places to read from his excellent book Black Monk Time, sell a few copies and talk about the period that was actually a small portion of his musical life (he’s primarily a jazz musician). Eddie and partner (whose name escapes my feeble mind) were both nice friendly folks as I found out when I walked in to mecca and Rocky introduced me as “the local muckraker”. Before the reading, we talked about Albuquerque vs Carson City, raising kids and weather; just comfortable conversation. As Eddie read and answered questions with great & winding stories, I realized why it was so easy to just to talk to him earlier. I’m right in the middle between his age and the handful of kids that knew enough to show up. It felt like a good place to be. If you missed Eddie (and chances are you did), you can still pick up some Monks music or the book from mecca which (need I remind you?) has the best vinyl selection in town. Thanks to Mr. De la Vega for hosting the event and Zed Stardust for setting it up. Its Monk time! KillSadie 5/10/01 @ Insurgo Musically, I’ve been steered wrong enough times to be quite wary (it pays to look through the record collection of whoever says “You just gotta see this band! They’re fuckin’ awesome, dude!” . Also-- if they call you “dude”, forget it & walk away.) Well, I was steered right on this one (thanks to Z. and S.). Seattle’s Killsadie were a fierce blend of howling guitars, keyboards (yay!), and a couple of tape loops backed with hardcore influences. The prancing singer has watched the 1971 ‘Stones movie Gimme Shelter too many times I’m afraid, but he did a good job even with his slamming-into-the-audience trick. And it was a trick because he didn’t touch me once although I was right up front but kept bumping the girls who were right next to me. C’mon, man—I’m a guy too. I know your tricks. Snap out of it! Luckily, the show was good enough to make me buy the new CD anyway. I don’t do that as much as I used to. I mean, I like to support bands on the road and all but I’ve amassed lots of crap I never listen to. This one won’t be that way. |
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| LOCAL RELEASES |
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| Below The Sound [s/t CD 2001] Dirty Decibel Records www.belowthesound.com A great improvement over 2000’s self titled demo EP (as any follow-up should be), this full-length captures the band rather well, a perfect balance of what a three-piece can be; no one dominates yet the whole is dominant and non-derivative. No other local band has a sound like Below the Sound, putting them at the top in a class of their own (much as Dead On Point 5 is in theirs). Heavy but easy on the ears; shoegazer metal; a slow and seething deliberate musical arc that hints that there is indeed something lurking below the sound. the Derelectrics Shock Hazard [CD 1998] 6009 Carmel NE Albq NM 87113 www.thederelectrics.com I generally don’t include old releases in this section but this bears a note because I just discovered it existed after years of relying on the 7 inch. While not as dirty audiowise as their live show, there’s still hints of the greatness to come in the future. Which is now. Which was the future then. But isn’t anymore. It’s sort of like time-traveling. Isn’t science grand? The Tattersaints Low Orbit [CD 2001] Red Door Records Albq NM Another incredible improvement CD. The 1999 cassette Kind of Live can’t touch this new release. Of course, (to quote bassist Rhonda Rolfs, who was kind enough to send a copy my way with an actual hand-written letter — extra punk points!) the band “pretty much hate[s] it at this point” because its about a year old or so. There’s a new one in the works with more current tunes. Low Orbit kicks off right away with the rock and doesn’t let go but veers towards a little twangcore territory tempered with new wave and god knows what else. Oh, Rhonda also points out that the demise of the Tattersaints was greatly exaggerated as reported in WWB #24. I guess I spoke to drummer Heath when things looked dire. Or maybe he was just fucking with me. I tell you, there’s mischief in that boy! Speaking of mischief, Andrea Merkx (Alarm Clocks, TNA, Shanghai Testarosa [all currently RIP?] ) guests on a number or two as well as Jeffery Richards (Bright Carvers, Nitrous Burning Cactus Tractor, Hazeldine and – well, I lost count. You try it sometime) and Lewi Longmire (Apricot Jam). I just listened to Low Orbit for the third time today and the only question remaining is, why in heavens name haven’t I gotten out to see them more than once? |
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| LOCAL ZINES Title & number precede page count, size, print frequency; price |
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Lizard “the land of lounge and beyond” 26pp, ½ legal, (frequency?); free Eric Perry efperry7@yahoo.com From the (serious!) copyright notice to this guy Eric sort of reviewing his own band’s show (I think) and some of his song lyrics plus a long thinly-veiled (auto-bio?) fictional piece, its got a different vibe, man, than the average local photocopy cut & paste affair. An entertaining Bohemian slant plus all you ever wanted to know (?) about Eric can be found right here. Another voice on paper rather than the electronic ether is always welcome. Lobotomy #5 Vol. I 3/01 12pp, ½ legal, bi-monthly (?); free dailylobotomy@yahoo.com Going strong, another regular local zine -- cool! This is what we like -- consistent, well-written and well-researched (most of the staff are students after all). Although there’s mercifully little student politics in the Lobotomy (and actually none this issue) I couldn’t possibly care less about the subject. I could make some sexist crack here of caring about only a certain percent of “the student body” but let it pass, let it pass. This ish features: --An informative piece about revolution in Grenada (anybody remember Granada? Ummm, anybody even know where it is? I didn’t think so). --An examination of why there’s little or no minority representation on television (although I’m not sure why anyone of color would want to have their ethnic group included in say, a bunch of chowderheads like Friends or 90210. And maybe I’m missing something but all those black sitcoms on UPN or WB aren’t anything to make one swell with racial pride either). --A “To Live Simply” list by everyone’s favorite local naked-guy Don Schrader, most of which make perfect sense but until this country is reduced by war and/or energy shortages to the current level of Bosnia, it simply ain’t gonna happen here. And my two favorites this issue (they’re both graphic – I love to write but I learned to read with comic books): --the front & inside-back cover: signs & ads tampered with to reveal ironic truths (whoa! I’m getting into this academic outlook, brah!) --the beautifully drawn centerspread Confinement, Mobility and Space. If a song is poetry set to music, then this is a poem set to comic strip. Bravo. |
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| OMAHA, NEBRASKA |
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| Whether you like it or not, your tax
dollars funded Captain America’s recent job-related trip to the upper Midwest.
You can bet I was the only participant of the organic farming conference
to head out after dark in search of loud and obnoxious music. As yr. humble
& ob’t. servant, I herewith report on the Omaha/ Lincoln scene (or
what little of it I managed to stumble upon). Well, mostly it sucked because my timing was way off. The Cog Factory (Omaha’s all-ages punk space) sounded like a great spot; I even had a show list from the web site…Kids, remember when going to a strange town to re-check those show lists sooner than a month and a half before the event. I showed up at an empty warehouse in what appeared to be the crack-whore ghetto of Omaha. In contrast, a few blocks away was the Old Market area. Beware Albuquerque: this is what the Downtown Action Team wants to turn our downtown into: literally hundreds of people, day or night, battling for parking spaces to eat or shop at trendy upscale cutesy businesses. Picture Albuquerque’s Old Town, Nob Hill, Downtown and the “hip” parts of Cottonwood Mall all rolled into one. There was even a (nooo!) Banana Joe’s a few blocks away. Strange was the fact that local scenesters mingled with Joe Blow and his family from Council Bluffs, Iowa all wandering around together in these few of blocks of faux-hipness. Luckily, the coolest indie record shop anywhere was very near (see below) and an old school diner, simply called the Diner. The Diner unfortunately had a few posters of Marilyn Monroe around but was otherwise the real deal. A little too real though because the food wasn’t very good but the interior looked as if it hadn’t changed since 1962. It’s the kind of place where you could get those little single serve cereal boxes that when opened correctly can be used as your bowl (cut along the dotted lines on the front of the pack, lift the flaps, pour in the milk & sugar and you’re good to go). Luck was not with me on this trip: I scrambled the dates and missed a show at the Sokol Auditorium by some band with heavy Minutemen influence; I navigated my way through miles of construction and endless one-ways to see Star 69 who turned out to be some local loser cover band and not the indie popsters from Los Angeles (I didn’t even go in). Generally, I missed everything worthwhile except the Antiquarium… the Antiquarium Record Shop 1215 Harney St Omaha NE www.antiquarium.com This place is simply one of the best music shops I’ve ever found. If not for the few show flyers in the window, you’d never suspect a bonanza of recorded music lies in the basement. The first floor is one of those musty stacked-floor-to-ceiling bookshops. I can’t tell you the first thing about the print selection ‘cause I shot straight downstairs and didn’t come up for air until I nearly blew all of my allowance (first day in town!) on about $200 of used & new vinyl and a couple of bargain bin CDs. Oh, and a handful of old cassettes for the rental car. The selection of indie/punk vinyl is staggering, covering most every genre (with the exception of almost no crusty hardcore). My purchase included: Detroit Cobras, Delta Dart, Loli & the Chones, Softball, the Pills, the Pretty Things, the 5.6.7.8’s plus some local stuff like D is For Dragster and the venerable Mercy Rule. The jazz selection is just as good, especially for vintage 1930-40s recordings like Chick Webb & His Orchestra, Jack Teagarden’s Big Band and Bob Crosby’s Bob Cats -- all of which found their way into my mounting pile along with a comp of ‘70s soul-singin’ sisters off the Stax label. I tossed a few zines on top of the pile and decided to get the hell out of there before I traded in my return airline ticket for spendable cash. Best of all, the counter staff was knowledgeable about local venues as well as friendly (which clerks tend to be when you throw your money around like a coke dealer before a fall). Too bad my timing was for shit as I only saw one horrid show in nearby Lincoln… Five Story Fall, Cerny 4/26/01 @ Knickerbocker’s, O Street, Lincoln NE Downtown Lincoln seems like it might be a cool, happenin’ place. “O” Street is certainly where the nightlife is at, lots of college kids on the strip club-hopping. Must’ve been an off-night because I couldn’t find shit. Its pretty homogenous for a college town-- lots of leggy cornfed blonde chickadees; crew cut “dudes” on the school football squad and who slap their dates on the shoulder like some frat bud. Most striking was the general lack of tats, piercings or body modification of any kind, especially on the women. Here in New Mexico, even one of the straightest church-going girls I know has a tongue ring. As well, there wasn’t a Bettie Page cut in the crowd and the only people with like purple or fucked-up hair were high school kids. Anyway, I should’ve have listened to the girl at the record shop ( a local “hip” chain called Homer’s) when I asked if Knickerbocker’s was cool. She sort of wrinkled her face a bit , said “… well… yeah.” I think she was just being kind to an old man while trying to figure me out by the two oddball CDs I picked up from the bargain bin (Famous Monsters and the Need). I mean, she even told me the place to be that night was the live band karaoke across the street. But seeing as how I would have had no drunken friends there to make fun of, I opted instead for this Knickerbocker’s place, which seemed to be the only joint in town that wasn’t offering bands doing Guns & Roses covers. My heart sank when I stepped up from the front room into the stage area. It’s a good room for sound (with high pressed tin ceilings and long like the Golden West) but the music was awful. Locals Cerny were up playing some shit like Hootie the Wet Sprocket or Counting Hooties or the Hootie Matthews Band; drawstring pants, barefoot post-raver kids who’ve probably never been to an actual rave but have adopted its neo-hippie look. The scariest thing about them was that they aspired to be like the headlining band, Omaha’s Five Story Fall. I wanted not to like Five Story at all but they were decent enough musicians (especially the guitar player who looked like the love-child of Peter Fonda and Christopher Walken). They played some catchy Gin Blossoms-type songs with good hooks, although they’re the kind of band that people my age would like. My rule of thumb is: if my age group likes it, it must suck. Worse, the crowd who have had many less birthdays than me loved the show. I had a couple beers, watched the band (and the clock-- never a good sign) and figured I’d stick it out for the duration. But suddenly I just had to go and realized I was very relieved to be driving back to my hotel room to watch crap on late night cable. Sad but true. |
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Wig Wam Bam (by Captain America PO BX 4865 Albq NM 87196 captainamerica1941@hotmail.com) |
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| Wig Wam Bam is written by Captain America |
po box 4865 | albuquerque, nm 87196 |
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