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Issue # 39 Jul 2002 thewigwambam.com |
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| Ignoring Objectivity Since 1998
WIG WAM BAM “Albuquerque zine of music & nepotism” 
SUMMER
VACATION EDITION!
Yes, it’s the Summer Vacation Edition because so many whackos sent in submissions this time around that it’s almost like editor Captain America is on vacation. Well, sorta. I guess not really when you figure all the time it’s taken me to correct their scrawl, especially the one that came in crayon on a paper sack. Hell, you contributors ought to be paying me to deal with your mess you ungrateful bastards |
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| The Melvins, the Fleshies, Mastodon,
High on Fire, Naughty Little
Monkeys, Bright Blue Clam, No Exit, the Makers, the Bangs, Unit 7 Drain, Absinthe Blind, Pop
Action Squad, Foma, Ozomatli, Fishbone, Unit 7 Drain, The Alarm Clocks, the
Ladykillers, J Mascis, Pilot To Bombardier, Unit 7 Drain, TNA, Coke Is Better
With Bourbon |
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Songs from A Different Kind Of Love… self-released CD-R [2002] Unit 7 Drain s/t self-released; CD-R 2001 Red Halo; CD 2002 |
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volume 2 number 6 June 2002 Transmission #8 July 2002 |
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| LOCAL
SHOWS |
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| I first met Dee Snarl at some Launchpad show or another, I don’t recall which (it may’ve been more memorable if I had met a girl instead). Somehow he talked me into letting him rifle through my CD collection for some extra-legal file sharing activities. To our mutual surprise, Dee came across a disc that he played on but hadn’t known about, Five Years…. Five Beers a collection of Jimmy Flame & the Sexxy Boys, Mr Snarl having been a Sexxy Boy at one time ( I decline to comment on his current…ummm…sexxy status). Knowing a fuck of a lot more about thrashin’ sounds than your humble (ahem) narrator, Mr Snarl submitted the following reports. the Melvins, the Fleshies 5/30 /02 @ Launchpad contributed by Dee Snarl I came in shortly after the Fleshies had started their set, saw an open area in front of the stage, and figured there was some sort of meager moshpit going on. Then I realized that space was just for the singer to freak out in. This guy definitely went to the Iggy Pop school of frontmanship, possibly with a minor in G. G. Allin. He spent almost all his time writhing around on the floor, doing backward somersaults, etc. Except when he was fucking with audience members. A couple times he'd writhe on over to someone and pull them to the floor through some mystical leglock\ ninja move. At least it looked like he was a personal friend of the woman he took down and dry-humped. Otherwise it might be considered inappropriate. I thought it was funny when he came over to the guy in front of me and yanked the freshly-lit cig from his mouth and walked away puffing. The guy looked a bit miffed/confused and lit another. Of course, singer dude immediately came back and gave him his smoke back. So now the guy's got two lit cigarettes and is at a loss how to handle it. Ha! It's amazing the little glimpses into human nature you can get at the punk show. Generally disheartening, yes, but amazing nonetheless... The music was good, slightly art-damaged rock'n'roll. Super high-energy, tight, chaotic. The whole thing reminded me of the (older) New Bomb Turks. Honestly, it was kind of hard to pay attention to the music when you were constantly watching out for the singer to come spill your beer or dry-hump you or something. I mean, definitely entertaining, but you could feel people kind of stiffen up when the guy got too close, you know? At least he didn't throw feces... I'm not going to lecture about how important the Melvins were to the whole Seattle underground scene. I'm also not going to say "grunge" (oops). Anyway, they were (important, that is). Yes, back in the day. They were among the first doing that thing, Cobain roadied for them and worshipped them, their drummer played on a few songs on Bleach, and so on. I always liked ‘em and all, but never bought their records or anything. Obviously some people did because they were recognizing songs and singing along and stuff. Buzzo and the bassist wore monk uniform things, while the drummer (Dale Crover) wore only his trademark speedos. They are clearly some weird guys. Also, they are really good at what they do. Crover, especially, really impressed me with how complex, creative and tight he was. Obviously a big influence on drummers from "that scene" (and I mean that in the best possible sense). I always associate the Melvins with sludgy slow jams, and they did plenty of those, but they mix it up with plenty of other weirdness. Don't recall catching any cheesy 70's covers this time. And I don't want to hear any whining about how uncool that scene/sound is. If it wasn't for that scene, you'd still be listening to Guns 'N' Roses. Or the Scorpions (hee hee). Melvins far pre-date Pearl Jam's watered-down mass-consumption tidal wave, anyway, after which the "Seattle sound" meant Candlebox more than Tad. The Melvins are from when (back in the day, I believe it was) the Seattle sound had a giant twist of indie quirkiness. And that was cool. Still, I couldn't help feeling that the show had a bit of the Oldies Revue to it. Here's all these late-twenty-somethings trying to recapture their youth with one last moshpit. I mean I saw Blood Circus and Tad in like '88, and we were all crazy slamming, stage-diving, etc. And then it was really new and fresh (to us). And now it's not. Now, of course, that's all a big Slipknot cliche. Maybe it's just the cycle - maybe it would be exciting if I was 14 and into, let's say ICP. Yeah, well, it might be exciting, but it wouldn't be as good. Mastodon, High On Fire 6/11/02 Launchpad contributed by Dee Snarl Mastodon’s drummer and guitarist are the same two guys that backed up Steve Austin on Today Is The Day’s In The Eyes Of God album. I was listening to that on the way to the Pad and getting a little worked up, because, man can that guy play drums! And Mastodon did not disappoint. They really captured the small crowd from their first notes, and finished every song to rapturous and heartfelt applause. Each player was excellent, and the music was very, er, musical, while still extremely hard-hitting and tough and all that shit. Now, in the grand scheme of things, they are definitely a metal band, and it could sound like I’m describing, say, a NWOSDM (New Wave Of Swedish Death Metal, of course) band, but not even close. Mastodon are on Relapse, and share that notoriously hard to pinpoint sound (often described as a mix of metal, hardcore, and grind) whose most prominent exponent is modern Neurosis. Mastodon, though, is slightly warmer and richer, and lacks Neurosis’s harsh, buzzkill edge. Not that they’re commercial or anything, but a smidge more accessible. Also, more expansive and , dare I say, jazzy. Especially the drumming. Damn! That guy is good. I don’t think he ever played a normal 1-2-3-4 part; he was always all over the place, just accenting and off-beating (thus the jazz thing). I missed the first half of High On Fire’s set, due to the oft-cited “prior commitment.” They played a much more straightforward stoner rock. They have a strong following, and played hard and well. Heads were bobbing all around (no, not headbanging, Smirky). They were a really fun band to watch, but Mastodon stole the show that night. Fans of innovative heavy music and killer drums, check out Mastodon! Naughty Little Monkeys, Bright Blue Clam, No Exit 6/13/02 @ Cantina La Tuya, El Paso TX About once or twice a year, I find myself overnight in Las Cruces, N. Mex. for work and looking for something to do besides take another whirl across the motel’s cable remote. Having long ago seen better days, Cruces is the kind of place where civic pride means painting the dumpsters in bright colors. I’m certain there’s some punk rock or something somewhere (it is a college town after all; a cow college but a college town nonetheless) but I have yet to find “the scene”. It’s quite grim: the sole record shop listed in the yellow pages is Musicland in a strip mini-mall. A glimmer of hope came from the only person I saw who looked like she knew what was up, a hair-dye/pierced check-out gal Danielle at the Save Mart. She told me about two bars--the Club and the Patio-- that might have something worth hearing. But I struck out there as they had nothing for a day or two and it was country and pop-norteno at that. So once again, I did the hundred mile round-trip to El Paso del Norte and the Cantina La Tuya but wishing I had been there a day earlier for the Applicators show (who I had just missed during my Austin trip last month too. Drat!). La Tuya’s stage has been moved from the south wall near the door to the east accomplishing little but losing the few booths they had and making it harder to load equipment in or out. Must be the feng-shui or some shit. Openers the Ghost were some nice guys out of Chi-town Illinois that I had spoken to earlier in the day but missed due to prior commitments. I picked a CD up as a consolation prize (hey I’m a nice guy too) even though I suspected it was emo-style (I always think that these days and am usually proven right-- unfortunately). By inference, I soon realized I was correct when one of the Ghost said he dated Kim Bae, long-time columnist (one of their best actually) of Punk Planet mag, which needs a name change to Emo Planet by the way. The next band No Exit from NYC was said to be on the American Pie soundtrack which sure as hell doesn’t bode well for anyone. No further questions, your honor… Bright Blue Calm (not sure if I got the name right) are from Nebraska and the best thing I heard from them was not the music (Punk Planet style; surprise!) but the news that long-time Lincoln-area stalwarts Heidi Ore and Jon Taylor of the venerable roaring indie-rock outfit Mercy Rule have a new kid. Congrats to them and kudos to you if you know Mercy Rule. Judging from the number and volume of screams from the girlies in the crowd that locals Naughty Little Monkeys got, it’s a safe bet these boys are also getting plenty, if you catch my drift. Me, all I heard from them was Jimmy Eat World vs Goo Goo Dolls heavily filtered through Skanking Pickle ska. It’s a sad commentary when the coolest thing you can say about a band is a piece of equipment like the lead singer’s old-school blocky steel mike mounted on a gear shift knob but there you have it. Also sad is that compared to the rest, their ska sound was actually refreshing as hell. I mean it! But just the same, I was quite refreshed enough after only about fifteen minutes and headed back to the motel knowing that I had at least made a valiant attempt to hear some live sounds at La Tuya-- the best club in ‘Paso as well as the bar with the most broken glass in the parking lot of any I’ve ever seen. That has to count for something. Its been some time since we’ve heard from Colonel Aureliano, our Boston Correspondent but to quote WC Fields from 1940’s The Bank Dick, “Things happened”. Here’s his report on a show I wish I was at. the Makers, the Bangs 6/16/02 @ Middle East Cambridge, MA contributed by Colonel Aureliano Dragged A--- out to catch the Bangs last nite, a very fine show indeed upstairs at the ME which we would have missed entirely if not for Captain America’s timely tip! Cute and cuter, good solid no frills rock and roll. Kept all the girls dancing and some of the boys too. The Makers were another matter entirely, kind of like watching Mick Jagger do Spinal Tap and this in the year 2002; a group that seemed to be without irony, even when the dry ice kicked in. The girls in the Bangs seemed to like them though and a good cross- over crowd stayed for both acts. We bailed mid set after hitting the merch table where Maggie the bass player smiled sweetly at me but even more sweetly at A--- and gave her some free stuff too. Not that I was jealous or anything. I grabbed the 7 inch and A--- picked up a CD, almost getting the wrong one ‘til Maggie said ‘no, this one is the good one’. I'm walking down the sidewalk a few nights later with my ice cream cone and see what looks like a ticket on my windshield. O shit! not the fucking alternate side of the street fucking street sweeping again. But fear not, it was just something I left on the dash. Whew! It was just the new Bangs seven inch, as I discovered late the next sunny afternoon. Needless to say needless to say. the Makers 6/16/02 Middle East Cambridge, MA contributed (?) by A. [Surreptitiously following was the Colonel’s review was one by his escort to the selfsame show. A few words about a tat accompanied the unauthorized e-forward but in a rare fit of discretion, Wig Wam Bam chooses not to run that here. Thanks, A, whoever you are! –ed.] The Makers were (unintentionally) entertaining. Their set started with a big(recorded?) musical buildup that (I gather) was supposed to segue into a live crashing rock'n'roll tune. Instead, it blended into about 60 seconds of silence with the band gathering around the drum kit in discussion. I couldn't help but think of Spinal Tap, and to complete the reference, the drummer disappeared behind the stacks for a bit. Then everything seemed to have gotten straightened out and we got to see them in action. I couldn't figure out if they wanted to be the Rolling Stones or Aerosmith. The front man was really too much - sunglasses, tight pants, tucked-in tight fitting shirt (unbuttoned to just above navel). He had the walk, the look, the moves, the aqua-netted shaggy haircut, the tambourine-- I was tempted to rush the stage screaming and paw desperately at him, but I figured nobody'd appreciate my sense of humor. Unit 7 Drain, Absinthe Blind, Pop Action Squad, Foma 6/17/02 @ Launchpad I went out to support Black Nissane’s efforts to bring us a show that didn’t suck. But its about three weeks after I saw this show that I finally got around to sitting down to write about it and damned if I can remember much by now. I do recall the crowd being pretty slim by the time Unit 7 got onstage but they play full-on no matter who is or isn’t listening. As always, frontman Harry has intensity to spare like Billy Corgan but without the Jesus complex. I’d never heard the first three bands before but especially liked Foma (cello mixed in with their slow but un-emo indie-rock) and Absinthe Blind’s blasting set was enjoyed by everyone even Zac. They’re a powerful five-piece with guy/girl vocals plus keyboards but otherwise I’m drawing a blank here. Guess I lost those last three brain cells that night. Now what am I gonna do… Ozomatli, Fishbone 6/23/0 @ Sunshine Theater contributed by Lester the Molester OK, there has never been a question of integrity, style, skill, attitude, or pure musicianship when talking about Fishbone. The guys are legends, that is why I wasn’t too sure what to think of them opening for the hip, up-and-coming Ozomatli, but I didn’t have anything better to do so I went. I was also a little worried about the $15 ticket price, that is the most I have spent on a show since, huh, um, I saw-ugh- U2 in Seattle last year but as I said above, I really didn’t have anything better to do. So, wow, Fishbone, what else can you say? The 55 minute set started off with Angelo the front man giving the crowd a spiel that had something to with undesirables, which struck a chord close to my heart, but then it got old and luckily his band mates joined him and the party started. Two or three songs later Angelo was half naked, drenched in sweat, starting his own personal mosh pit in the middle of the dazed crowd. Eventually he would crazily, recklessly, amazingly stag- dive numerous times daring the Ozomatli fans to drop him, surprisingly they never did. With theatrics like that and some amazing songs like Party at Ground Zero, Bonin’ in the Bone Yard, and my personal all time favorite Fishbone song, Alcoholic, I think Fishbone won over some new fans. I do think it was probably the best set by an opening band I have ever seen. Before the show I had never actually heard an Ozomatli song so I didn’t really know what to expect. In waiting the twenty minutes between bands I think I was off-key and annoying people when I was chanting “Ozomatli Crue” (the only way I could remember how to pronounce Ozomatli correctly was the fact that it is Motley Crue with an’ Ozo’ and not a ‘crue’). Then the baseball jersey wearing fans (they took over the place, I even saw a Dukes baseball jersey) were hungry for the crue and started chanting “Ozo...Ozo” which I took as “Ozzy...Ozzy”; I don’t think I was very popular where I was standing. So anyway, about the music, Ozomatli are genuinely great, with 11 freaking people on stage they better be. They had turntables, drums, an amazing percussion section, trombone, mandolin, guitar, bass, rappers, tambourines, keyboards, some cool shaky things, and of course, what seemed to be a full choir of cow bells. I haven’t heard a cow bell used is such a great way since Don’t Fear the Reaper. The great mix of Latin, Brazilian, African drumming, hip hop, and some great coordinated dance moves made the music a joy to listen to and actually made me want to dance (not since junior high have I danced so much). To give perspective, the music was almost a combination of Los Lobos, Black Eyed Peas, the Gypsy Kings, and maybe a little Fishbone. One of the better moments of the show was when Angelo from Fishbone was grooving on the edge of the stage and spontaneously decided to cut a rug and did some amazing break dancing! Then, without missing a beat, one of the guys from Ozomatli (who had already showed his talent by playing no less than five different instruments) started breaking to match Angelo! I thought I had died and gone to heaven and heaven was the set for Breakin’ 3. Angelo remained on stage for the rest of the show, singing, dancing, and playing the world’s smallest saxophone. Ozomatli played inside for almost two solid hours, it was a big fucking party. So when security sucks and they turn the lights on before the music is done with, where do you take the party? Outside! Yes, that’s right, I wrote it right, outside. Ozomatli grabbed a couple of drums, a couple of horns, and a slurry of cowbells and headed for Central Avenue at midnight on a Sunday no less. They walked out the front door playing some cool sing-alongs (Ole’ for example). The crowd swarmed around them chanting and singing. It was a great night. When I finally left and made it to my car, I decided to drive back down Central to see if anything was still going on...it was. Ozomatli was still playing in the street. It was refreshing to go see a show and witness the bands having just as much fun, if not more, that the people they are playing for. Ozomatli Crue forever, man. Unit 7 Drain, The Alarm Clocks, the Ladykillers 6/24/02 @ Launchpad After a long day on the rez, I rolled home after ten o’clock sunburned, full of chile stew and the sound of Pueblo drums still ringing in my head (Happy San Juan Day, y’all!). I was ready to crash but at 10:30 the phone rings and there’s Andrea telling me the Alarm Clocks have jumped on the bill, that I’m on the guest list and I better get down there pronto! Since the ‘killers were onstage in their underwear, I kept my seat at the bar until the whole thing blew over. Next the Clocks ripped it up once again but for merely five songs. It got ugly for a minute as I expected the crowd to act like an unruly bunch of soccer hooligans and tear shit up. Cooler heads prevailed however and the Unit boys played another good set of crunchy indie rock just the way we like it. Then I finally made it home and all seemed right with the world. J Mascis, Pilot To Bombardier, Unit 7 Drain 6/28/02 @ the Launchpad contributed by Lester the Molester Seeing as how I had a really long day at work walking around, meeting people, hanging out, I was a little late getting to the show. I had never seen Unit 7 Drain, and I never will again! Just kidding. I only caught two songs. The first started out all sad and depressing but slowly built and ended where it should have started in the first place, good ol’ fashioned (indie) rock and roll. The second was much of the same but good, nevertheless, and ended in an almost punk rock fashion (a guitar was almost thrown to end the set). They were good but all I have to say is those kids need a few years under their belts to be so damn sad. Afterword: I have no clue of the ages of the members of Unit 7 Drain. I have liked Pilot to Bombardier ever since I got really drunk at one of their shows and saw God. I spoke with Miguel before the show and he informed me that they had a projectionist for the show and he seemed to be very excited, I really didn’t know what he meant so of course I was excited as well. So the projectionist was two or three movie projectors, projecting odd snippets of film onto sheets behind the stage and onto the band as well. Silhouettes of the band members and the crazy film running on the sheets made for a great mood and was only added to by the band. Actually I do believe it was by far the best light show since, huh, um, I saw, ugh, U2 in Seattle last year. I know it is all about the music though. So the music rocked. The band added a second guitarist and some backup vocals since the last time I had seen them, making them rock so much more. It actually made the sad, lonely parts louder and more distinct and made the fast parts blow my wad. I can honestly say that with the movies and effects, the rocking band, and the shooting of the wad made this the best 35 minutes of local music I have seen. Afterword: I haven’t lived here that long, but it still blew my wad. Yeah so then the rumor started going around that Mr. Mascis was doing an acoustic set, not to worry though, his acoustic album Mike and Me was still all right, but I do much prefer loud electrically distorted, whinny-ass rock and roll to acoustic shit, but anyway... J Mascis walked out on stage, sat down, plugged in an acoustic guitar and began the set, no band behind him, no Fog as his band is sometimes called. Shit, the wimpy smoke machine at the Launchpad didn’t even come on. It was just J, an acoustic guitar, a pair of fish-eyed glasses, and some bad-ass mo-fo effects pedals. Once I got over the disappointment of no loud band there, I was pleased. Mr. Mascis played songs from throughout his 18 year career, Dinosaur Jr. hits, J. Mascis and the Fog hits, and even some new hits, he just did them by himself on an acoustic guitar. He had some great effects pedals that at certain heavenly points gave his guitar all the great sounds of electric, acoustic, rhythm guitar, and lead guitar all at once. So anyway you can have J Mascis, take him, he will leave a warm, steamy pile of sappy (indie) rock and roll in your beer and you will l-o-v-e it. Afterword: this was the first show I have ever attended at the Launchpad that I did not have to wear earplugs, how about an encore? “Encore? Fuuuck, Eyed drink ta that!” Let’s hear it for tinnitus! TNA, Coke Is Better With Bourbon 6/29/02 @ Moonlight Lounge Coke is better with bourbon but that doesn’t stop me from feeling like shit this morning. Too wimpy to drink my whiskey straight, I need some bubbles but syrupy cola ain’t it. Good thing its Sunday… Coke Is Better With Bourbon played one long-ass drunk-punk raucous set, much tighter than last I saw them which was about the time they formed. The tiny Moonlight Lounge is a perfect place for shows like this, small and immediate and usually full of folks in-the-know. I saw a few people wander in of the street (lured by the no-cover policy) but soon beeline it out again. Too sad ‘cause they missed TNA rip it up in one of their tightest sets ever. Even Melissa (bass) was head-banging like some teen-age kid at a Slayer show. Due to technical difficulties, however, Penny & Amy had to share a mike looking something like Lennon & McCartney (actually, it was Harrison & McCartney who shared the mike but it don’t have the same ring. Guess it doesn’t matter because I’m gonna get my ass kicked for even bringing up the Beatles in a TNA review. Have mercy, Penny!). It was a treat to hear them at the Moonlight ‘cause it was the first place I saw them back in fall of 2000 when they kicked the ass of everyone else on the Socyermom fest that night (and speaking of which, Len, why hasn’t there been a TNA release yet?). Apropos it was ‘cause this was the first of a (keep your fingers crossed!) string of shows every Wednesday & Saturday night booked by Mr Socyermom himself, who managed to show up in time for TNA after a GoMotorCar recording session in Santa Fe or something with jumpin’ Johnny in tow, the latter who asked me to say: Hey all you fuckin’ bands out there--wanna play the Moonlight? Zap moonlight@hotmail.com |
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| LOCAL
RELEASES |
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| Shine Cherries Songs from A Different Kind Of Love… self-released CD-R [2002] jfoe@hotmail.com Backed by Jeffrey and Johnny’s paced strumming, Michele’s sweet and thin lovely vocals like those from some backwoods Appalachian back porch, her hands in soapy grey washtub water looking out across the smoky hills at dusk, hours of chores to go until she can lay her head down but there’s not much chance for another life so might as well sing with all the sadness, happiness and heart she’s got. |
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| Unit 7 Drain
Red Halo CD 2002 Socyermom Records www.socyermom.com Unit 7 Drain s/t self-released; CD-R 2001 The 7’s live show is like that period just before all those “edge” radio stations hawked alt.rock all over the place. Some people say it was a bad time but I think was better than you remember just for the fact that noisy independent music became hip again without metallic wanking. Now of course its all degenerated into (c)rap metal and emo drivel. And that’s exactly where Unit 7 hasn’t gone. OK, I realize that “emo” is mostly an insult to every band I’d give that label to; they all say they’re just punk or indie rock, man. But what I’m talking about is when indie rock meant bands as diverse as Belly, Sugar or the Spinanes, not eighth generation clones of Jawbreaker or Ian fucking MacKaye. See, its that style of music that to me defines emo, not its subject. Hell, Joey Ramone singing I Don’t Wanna Walk Around With You is as emotional as it gets. All this is a roundabout way of saying that Unit 7 Drain incorporates everything good about that period both in music and rip-it-up attitude. That said, I gotta say the new release Red Halo sounds more stylistically emo than most of what I’ve see them play live so in all honesty I won’t be spinning it quite as much as I’d hoped I would but it is a decent bit of one’s and zero’s. The 2001 CD is a bit more of a blaster if you know what I mean: louder and crunchier, closer to live. |
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Monkey Wrench volume 2 number 6 June 2002 12 pp, ½ size, photocopy, monthly; free diva@abqmoneywrench.com Part hacker, part DJ, part goth, part wicca, part B&D, part of everything that makes people uncomfortable, this zine is always worth picking up even if you don’t know the music they’re talking about (I sure don’t) and even don’t know what they’re talking about period (ditto). Attitude dished up in a clean format, Monkeywrench makes me think of that little wind-up clapping chimp toy that delights kids so much even when the adults don’t get it. Transmission #8 July 2002 24 pp, 81/2 x 11, slick, monthly; free or $15/sub www.transmission.com Although I’m apprehensive of mags that shy away from honest critiques in the name of promoting local music as if merely being local is enough, Transmission is looking better than it first did. Of course to me, part of that is covering a bit more of the “downtown scene” rather than obscure far-east- heights clubs featuring middle-of-the-road acts yearning to go “pro”. To me, going anywhere east of, say, Sonny’s for live music things get sketchy. So far, Transmission seems less bigoted than me (no trick that) and more all-inclusive so if I stop being such a shithead, maybe I’ll find out about something I like that I wouldn’t have otherwise heard. The June edition looks great with a cool Delano cover that would make any mag worth picking up regardless of what’s inside. |
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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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