Issue # 26 June 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
the Alarm Clocks, the Ladykillers, Pilot To Bombardier, Shanghai Testerosa, the Shins, Califone, Fukrot, Below the Sound, Anesthesia, Orjazzam, Reason, Eidolon, the Tattersaints
LOCAL RELEASES Local bands, any label
Fukrot [s/t self released CD 2000]
UN-LOCAL RELEASES Ex-locals, any label
the South of No North s/t [EP 2000]
SPECIAL WIG WAM GUEST SECTION
The Stoner Rock Pages by Alexander Kyuss Welcome to Sky Valley (Elektra 1991) Fu Manchu In Search Of… (Mammoth 1995) Dozer In the Tail of A Comet (Man’s Ruin 2000) High On Fire The Art of Self-Defense (Man’s Ruin 2000) Monster Magnet Spine of God (Caroline 1992)
WIG WAM BAM MAILBAG “Snotty Comments on Your Earnest Communications”
Submissions from Raven Chacon (Los Subliminados) and Bassist Rhonda (Tattersaints)
LOCAL SHOWS
the Alarm Clocks, the Ladykillers, Pilot To Bombardier, Shanghai Testerosa 5/12/01 @ the Pilot House A balmy night, a basement show, a handful of bands and scads of drunken students and/or graduates – always a recipe for a successful party! This one was in honor of grad Megan the K at her house which has just been usurped by a bunch of stinky boys. Good thing she’s moving anyway; her new address is a couch somewhere in Brooklyn (no-uh-- in a house, not on the street) where Megs is seeking fame & fortune. Shanghai Testarosa opened in fine & loveable form in what was one of their final appearances ever (and, as it turned out, one of their best). Everyone was in good spirits (or is that “drinking good spirits”?) and the sound was pretty damn decent for a basement. Andrea was living it up sitting at the drumkit on loan from the Ladykillers, having about twelve or eighteen more things to hit than the dumpster-dive kit she’s been using all along with Shanghai & TNA. She even had a little head-shakin’ hair-waggin’ thing going on that, whether she knew it or not, made her look like Ringo Starr. Next, the Ladykillers whooped it up in their inimitable style with lots of keyboard and harmony, just the way you like ‘em. By the time they were done, the outside door to the basement was busted – whether that was from party-goers trying to get in to hear the ‘killers or get away from them is unclear. Or maybe they just blew it off the hinges? Pilot To Bombardier were back to their original line-up tonight as a four-piece with a most special & wonderful guest appearance by bassist Liam Kimball (South of No North, ex Ponies, ex Fever Hot!) who flew in from Chicago just for this very evening. Well, being that Megan is his sister an’ all had something to do with it. Pilot never fails in their brilliance but tonight they were just shimmering and Meg was absolutely beaming watching her big brother (yikes! what a role model! How on earth did she ever turn out so cool?). As far as I know, Isaac happened to be passing through town, no little sisters graduating or anything but we were all very glad that the Alarm Clocks pulled it together for one of their signature o-so-danceable sets. Everybody was shakin’ their hips and grinning like motherfuckers. By this time, the place was packed, inside & out, front yard & back with not a few well-oiled people. I happened to be in the basement for an ersatz set by the Items who were actually Shanghai Matt on guitar, Isaac on drums and Mr Mike Day (Cowboy Up) on bass. Sadly, a couple of minutes into what promised to be all kinds of fun, word came from above (like the top of the stairs) that the long arm of Johnnie Law had rolled by to say Turn that shit off! Too bad the cops weren’t doing their real jobs ‘cause shutting down the potential of the Items was the true crime. Shanghai Testerosa 5/17/01 @ Burt’s Thursday night at the Tiki Lounge is the usual night for The Universal, a fancy name for DJs spinning some very good new wave, garage and Brit Invasion stuff. No matter the quality of the tunes, however, I just can’t sit still for DJs and canned music just don’t make me wanna dance, although dozens of other folks have deemed this the place to be on Thursdays. As I never tire of saying, most of that crowd (hell, any crowd) is way too hip for me so I’ve never done more than stick my head in once or twice. I’m certain no one misses me there in any case. But I was at Burt’s early tonight (eight o’clock? That’s when I’m usually napping these old bones so I can make it through a full show along with you youngsters). I was there sucking bourbon & coke at that un-godly hour to talk with Mike P about his ideas for a statewide Showcase of bands from all over New Mexico at Burt’s this fall. I guess since I talk (write) like I actually know something, people think I do and have the misfortune to ask me about such things. In any case, I’m gonna keep my frigging mouth shut (for once!) about this deal since it (1) it’s merely in the planning and (2) it ain’t my baby. Keep your ears open and you’ll be sure to hear more in the coming weeks… BUT! tonight was also the final farewell appearance of Shanghai Testarosa. Well, I guess two nights hence at the Launchpad Birthday gig was actually the last but I’m also allergic to (or is that opinionated against) Attention Deficit Disorder shows that feature every other damn band in town tossing off 15-minute sets. It was good to see Shanghai for my final time but there’s no doubt that the party gig the week previous kicked this set’s ass up & down the block. I guess that’s another reason why I passed on the Birthday gig (which I briefly considered going to just for Shanghai) – there just could’ve been no comparison. As well, it would’ve been like poking a stick at a corpse to see if there was any life yet left in it. Shanghai Testarosa; the best new (and shortest-lived) local band this year. Requiescat in Pace (sound of weeping here). the Shins, Califone 5/18/01 @ Launchpad Califone was a weird crew. A big crowd turned out for them. What a strange plethora of instruments (guitars, two keyboards, drums, claw-hammer banjo, congas, bass and lots of little percussion thingies like caxixi (from Brazil, a little rattle basket with pebbles or beans inside). It got to be a little too hippie-ish for me especially when they veered off into space jams not unlike the Dead shows I witnessed as a youth. Frankly, Califone bored the fuck out of me. Our own Shins, however, were in peak form: shiny happy indie pop so brilliant that if it was any brighter, there’d be third-degree burns in my ears. Can’t wait for the CD release show! Fukrot, Below the Sound, Anesthesia 5/19/01 @ Insurgo Anesthesia: hair metal best described as somewhere between Metallica & Pantera (Pantallica?). Definitely tight and well-practiced but a bit too plodding for me except for the penultimate song that sounded like rock n’ roll you could actually dance to. Below the Sound: quickly becoming the house band at Insurgo, I can picture them like the musicians on Letterman, except that instead of dumb jokes, a relentless musical barrage assaults the crowd. Fukrot: heading out the next day, this was the tour kick-off with the boys in incredibly fine form, playing four encore songs and getting a headstart on their sleep deprivation by staying up much of the night after this set burning CDs for the merch table and moving guitarist Miles out of his house (nothing like being homeless when your band hits the road!) As usual, lots of mosh action with Miles & bassist Greg participating. I’m just dying to see Eben with a marching drum slung around his neck so he too can dive in Insurgo stalwart Thane (Sally Go Round the Sun) was right in the thick of it, pulling moves like James Brown in the pit and belying his age as someone who knows the difference between moshing and slam-dancing. Orjazzam, Reason, Eidolon, the Tattersaints 5/26/01@ Insomnia If you’re underage and you don’t dig the punk action at all-ages Insurgo, you always can head around the block to Insomnia which seems to be rooms full of couches, pots of coffee & backgammon boards (ok, so maybe I made the backgammon thing up but if there’s not boards there, there certainly oughtta be). There’s bands with some regularity but if you’re a bar rat, you’ve probably have never heard of any of them. That’s alright; neither have I, so I figured the fifteen-hour (!) Insomnia Fest would be as good a time as any to check it out. No, I didn’t show up to this parking lot gig at the noon start time although I wanted to see J-rockers Sown but a 2PM show time on baked blacktop was not inviting. By all accounts, it was hot as hell with kids squeezed into the foot and a half of shade afforded by the building. Me, I rolled on over at the more reasonable hour of eight just as the western sky was ablaze in red, the sun going down and the Tattersaints cranking it up. The sound system was pretty good as I could hear each member loud & clear. There’s something refreshing about an outdoor show in the cool of the evening. Or maybe it was the can of beer I slammed before venturing out of the house. In any case, the Tattersaints rocked. Rhonda’s bass was way out front just where it oughtta be, booming rock steady and bouncing around the alley with that good window rattling thump th-thump thump. Heath was popping rimshots on his snare left & right like a little boy from east Texas picking cowbirds off a telephone line with his first Daisy BB gun. Notable in the Tattersaints’ quite notable set was the1979 swirly pop hit Dreaming, a cover that dragged Blondie kicking & screaming back to their CBGB roots. Between vocals, Mancel was exhorting the kids to dance and generally pumping up the fun quotient like some tweaked kiddie show host (Uncle Mancel’s Funhouse?), tossing T’s and CDs into the crowd. The little girlies that got the merch were all screechy happy like they had been singled out by some hotshot rockstar — which they sorta were. And guitarist Jeffrey was out eating smokey grub off a campfire up in the mountains somewhere, probably elbow to elbow with all them other Memorial Day weekenders; he’ll be back next gig. Side note: the Tat’s have been awful nice to me, sending letters & CDs even after I bashed ‘em a year back. Shit, Heath even still speaks to me after I slandered him on the opening night of the Anodyne downstairs (what ever became of that venue by the way?). but the truth has emerged. Last week, right before she left town, Andrea (Alarm Clocks, Shanghai Testarosa, TNA) admitted it was actually she not Heath who tossed the firecracker onstage at the troublesome Makers. Heath, consider this a public exoneration; your name is cleared and back to its good-standing (well, as good as it ever was; I’m not exactly sure where it was in the first place…). Next up was the first ever public appearance of Eidolon who played a set of stuff they’re still working out but since most everyone can’t tell when musicians fuck up, they had nothing to worry about. Carlos riffed around on guitar, Mr Insomnia himself was on bass (oops, sorry, forgot the name) and the drummer is rumored to also play with the Warm Up Band who’ ve subjected their crazy shit to Insurgo audiences with twisted results. Eidolon play some nice instro indie rock with a little crunch (hey guys; fuck looking for a singer. the instro sound is unique—go with it!). Their set was much better than they thought; the problem was not the missed cues or mistakes but all the godamned apologies coming from the stage. You guys keep that shit up and I will have no choice but to label you emo. Reason were slow & heavy muscle rock with very emotive lyrics and a cover or two like Metallica or Diamondhead (who?). They would probably get a better response at some eastside Heights bar or old joints like El Madrid. Their sound was sort of what you’d hear coming out of old, old-school low riders, long before the rap took over. Young chicanos just wanna hip and hop, the gray-hairs are still down with Carlos Santana and Los Lobos and the kiddies just wanna be J-Lo. Reason’s most rockin’ song was a Tool cover and that’s a sad statement indeed. The last band outside to push the noise permit time limit was Orjazzm. I dug the funkin’ bass and some of the riffing keyboards but modern jazz is too left-brained for me; like you gotta listen to the notes they don’t play. However its apparent these guys put a lot of time into playing so that its not just irresponsible jazz noodling but a practiced approach to improv. Since now it was time to move the remaining bands indoors for the duration and I don’t play backgammon, I took off into the night very glad that Insomnia put this thing together. I realize its totally impractical but how about one each month?
LOCAL RELEASES
Fukrot [s/t self release CD 2000] themadcow@mindspring.com Finally, just in time for Eben’s graduation, your favorite mind-warpers old & new by the Hammersteins of hardcore, the comedians of crust, the godsend of grind, that triumvirate of tenacity--um, what was that name again? Oh yeah. Fukrot!
UN-LOCAL RELEASES
the South of No North [s/t EP 2000] www.soundorgrecords.com/tsonn While I usually stick straight to local releases, and although they’re out of Chicago, the South of No North is not to be passed by. Why is that? Because it was handed to me by Liam K at sis Meg’s grad party (see 5/12, above). It is in fact a collaboration between Liam, his old Fever Hot! partner Jack S and (I believe) Quality Dan, ex-locals all. Dan & Liam seem to have put a rein on Jack’s pop sensibility while he has in turn broadened the appeal of their indie/emo approach. I’d like a bit more of Jack’s catchier anthemic approach but it’s a good release. It’s one that I prize because of the coffee stains on it (being the last battered copy that Liam was carrying with him) but especially for the second cut, “Why are you listening to this song when you could be out beating up The Makers?” , a reference to the 6/5 gig last year at the Anodyne that erupted in a chair-throwing, fist-flying, bottle-broken-over-the-head melee of the out-of-town Makers vs members of Albuquerque’s Pilot To Bombardier, and (peripherally) the Tattersaints (see 5/26, above) and god knows who else jumped in on that one. If you’re really anal you can try to dig up the review in WWB#15 (good freakin’ luck) or hell—just corner me with a bourbon & coke at a show someone and I’ll lay out the whole sordid tale, embellished of course.
SPECIAL WIG WAM GUEST SECTION
Although Captain America don’t get stoned any more nor does this brand of music rock his socks, contributor Alexander’s enthusiasm was such that his ranting is presented here for (y)our edification. Listen up. You (and I) just might learn somethin’. Note: Alexander, however, will be bummed out to learn that while I’m transcribing his words, on my stereo is not some crushing riffage but the Josie & the Pussycats soundtrack. For reals. Sorry, Al; I just had to. THE STONER ROCK PAGES By Alexander So you say you’ve grown tired of weak-assed 90s/new school punk and I don’t blame you. You turn on the radio and all the bands that used to rock have been Aerosmithed. “Hey what’s this shit? It sounds like some loser grunge band trying to sound like Metallica—Wait! this is Metallica trying to sound like some loser grunge band!” I too feel betrayed. You feel like sticking your steel-toe Doc’s through your pawnshop radio and getting a j-o-b… Wait my friends, I’m gonna save your ears and your rears; there’s a new sound rumbling and stumbling your way, Stoner Rock! Don’t sell out to the man yet; you won’t pass the piss-test anyway. This sound is so grooved-out so tuned down and fuzzed-the-fuck-up you won’t ever pass the bong again. Drawing from all of the most ass-kicking Hendrix damaged sounds, the doomiest riffs & the fastest cars ever to be put on blocks comes the new vibe. Imagine Sabbath’s Tony Iommi playing rhythm, Jimi on leads, Keith fuckin’ Moon on drums, Jerry Only torturing the bass and Ozzy, Morrison and the Nuge taking vocal turns and maybe we can lasso a bit of the Stoner resonance & roots. Kyuss Welcome to Sky Valley (Elektra 1991) is broken up on CD into four tracks with the first three having in reality 3 songs each. Hailing from the palm desert of California, this album is the one all of these bands have tried to make. All of the members of Kyuss are still around and making bitchin’ sounds. John Garcia is the definitive singer of this genre, combining the soulful grit of a chicano Janis with the shaman baritone of a well-tuned Jim Morrison. Along with bassist Scott Reeder, these two are now half of the very sexy band Unida. Power drummer Brant Bjork is touring the globe with the super riffed-out Fu Manchu. The teen-phenom Josh Homme is probably the most influential Stoner guitarist since Iommi. This LP has a bigger sound than you can hear in one listen & more mood swings than your girlfriend. From the meth-inspired Gardenia to 100% and on to Odyssey, you’ll be moved to move. Buy this record. Fu Manchu In Search Of… (Mammoth 1995) Godamn what a riff ride this one is. Considered by many to be the “gateway drug” into this world, it packs more punch than a shot of warm Montezuma. I was a fan from the first note of the first song Regal Beagle. Boy was I in for a treat-- and you are too. With “raised on Iommi” guitars, a cool surfer version of Nugent on vocals and the FATTEST boogie down sound on earth, you’ll be trippin’ without yer suitcase. Can’t say enough good about this one. It opened my mind and that’s a beautiful thing. So is this album. Dozer In the Tail of A Comet (Man’s Ruin 2000) This is more of an album that grooves out, sending me more than one of those that rearranged the path of heavy music. But if you like rock then you’re smart and I like rock more than you do. Hailing from northern Sweden -- oddly a hot spot for riff-rock -- these guys have more bounce than a motherfuckin’ bump. The song that sets them apart (if only one does it) is the DIY rocket trip fantasy that is Light Years Ahead. This concept is a Stoner Rock standby but no one does it better Heavy but not crushing, tight but not anal; vocals that remind me of John Garcia but more rock and an entire band that thinks it’s a rhythm section. Melding like a stoned-ass Viking army, these guys are the beer-fueled vodka buddies you’re glad don’t live next door. They are pure Stoner love. If you can’t get down to this, you can’t be my friend. High On Fire The Art of Self-Defense (Man’s Ruin 2000) If you haven’t tripped out to the gutter-beauty of this album, do so and be prepared to re-learn what it is to shred with the beautiful might of classic Slayer and ruined beauty of mid-70s Sabbath. This is the only album I’ve ever heard that in no way could be improved on. I shit you not! As heavy as the Pope’s nuts and as beautiful as your first pair of tits, this is a once-in-a-lifetime how-can-something-be-everything? Singer/songwriter/guitarist Matt Pike is a stoner /doom original having been a driving force behind the ultra-heavy band Sleep and is now a Stoner deity. This one starts with chainsaw guitar that only continues to build with six songs (on a full-length release) and more rhythm than your own breath. Your new outlook on rock starts here. Monster Magnet Spine of God (Caroline 1992) Pre-sobriety, Dave Wyndorf (frontman and creative battery of the mighty Monster Mag) was the coolest vato to ever slide his way through a riff. This is one of the--if not the--definitive space/stoner album. The sonic blues meet Mars cocaine mixed with a visual trip-out. I don’t know if that makes a bit of sense. Let me quote Mr Wyndorf, “I’m not here, man, I’m gone/ I sta-a-a-nd on the mountains of Mars/ Sparking up”. His sci-fi/porn vision has so much fuzzed-up muscle on this album; the songs flow together well, building to crazed orgasms of guitarded phantasms. If you only buy one Stoner Rock album this year, seek out this debut effort. You’ll be proud to be part of the Nod scene. It’s a Satanic drug thing, you wouldn’t understand…
WIG WAM BAM MAILBAG
Raven Chacon (Los Subliminados) e-mailed in answer to my questions last issue on the process of composing pieces to be played by other musicians: “in each score is [written] each note, dynamic, timbre, attack and even the direction in which you ‘aim’ the instrument at the audience” (sounds complex as hell). Also noted is a heads-up for an in-the-works “performance & short film… of... Report, a musical composition for one revolver, two semi-automatics and one shotgun”. Now where could that be performed? I vote for Banana Joe’s… Bassist Rhonda (Tattersaints) writes that: “we plan to quickly put out another release w/ all new material”. Yay! Hurry please! I’m about to wear out my copy of Low Orbit. She also corrected my break-up misconception a couple issues ago : “the Tattersaints are not ‘ex-’ (although I believe we were for about three days somewhere in there) ”. Must’ve been a grim three days. I’m very glad they rode it out…although I did notice she signed the letter “Rhonda and the Tattersaints”. Hmmm; has a nice ring to it, kinda like Ronnie & the Ronettes but-- Naw! I’m certain the trouble wasn’t over some top-billing disagreement…
Wig Wam Bam (by Captain America PO BX 4865 Albq NM 87196 captainamerica1941@hotmail.com) is unfortunately never at a loss for words; you can avoid this verbosity by not picking it up monthly at Insurgo, Bow Wow, Natural Sound, mecca, University Comics, Launchpad, AstroZombies, Sprockets, Burt’s, Insomnia and other local purveyors of pop culture.
Wig Wam Bam is written by Captain America  | po box 4865 | albuquerque, nm 87196