Issue # 42 October 2002 thewigwambam.com
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Ignoring Objectivity Since 1998 WIG WAM BAM “Albuquerque zine of music & nepotism” What th’ hell..? Dept. Tally of closings in Albuquerque, in less than one year: Insurgo, Sprocket’s,  Burt’s Tiki Lounge, Bow Wow Records, the Red Door practice space; and now the Launchpad under fire from the noize police. Our Baptist population must be increasing…
LOCAL SHOWS NM venues, bands from here or there
the Czars, Shine Cherries, Foma, the Vibrators, Icky & the Yucks, the Alloy Orchestra  (silent movie accompaniment) Backstage (1918), The Bell Boy, The Garage (1919), the Epoxies, the Mindy Set, the Phase, Mykee Hates Life, the Phase, HEDWIG and the ANGRY INCH (play), Fukrot, Kenji, Gary Coleman Hot Tub Party, Karen
LOCAL RELEASES NM bands, any label
Gary Coleman Hot Tub Party /Italian Shoe Collective self-released split CD-R 2002
THIS MONTH’S CONTRIBUTORS
Judas Priest  8/13/02 Camel Rock Casino submitted by Dee Snarl Modest Mouse, Sonic Youth Memorial Stadium the Shins, Death Cab For Cutie Key Arena 9/1/02 Bumbershoot Arts Festival Seattle Washington submitted by Lester the Molester NEW MEXICO [s/t LP, 1980] recorded in Nashville, TN & Las Cruces, NM submitted by Obenjyo
LOCAL SHOWS
the Czars, Shine Cherries, Foma 8/31/02 Moonlight Lounge   Just because I can see that Denver’s the Czars are good musicians doesn’t mean I have to adore them. I did appreciate the band while the show was on but likely will not go out of my way to see them again. But that’s just my taste (or lack of depending on who’s reading this epic). Their strengths were formidable. The singer/writer had an obviously trained and well-practiced voice. To his credit he chose to be backed up by  five other musicians rather than electing to showboat his vocal prowess. That voice had the soul of Aaron Neville, the register of Ronnie Spector and the occasional ragged edge of John Fogarty covering Dylan’s John Wesley Harding in the style of Johnny Mathis. The guitarist was especially strong. A decent set  by the whole crew who probably ought to be more popular than they are. Before the Czars, the Shine Cherries pulled out a handily great set, just smacking of comfort all around. Michelle’s voice is  sweet and floaty anchored by Johnny’s bass-y work and Jeffrey’s strummin’. And when he whips it out, Jeffrey’s banjo style is for people who hate banjos, melodic while providing lots of highlight. Just fine. Foma opened wonderfully as usual (after some sound system mishaps), not as tight as some other sets I’ve seen but in the truest sense of indie rock as I’ve heard in fucking years. Yay.    the Vibrators, Icky & the Yucks 9/3/02 Bow Wow Records Apparently there were a lot of people lined up for this in-store at the advertised time of 8PM; they mostly gone by the time I rolled in about nine and Icky & the Yucks still weren’t up. About 9:15, they finally started blasting away, likely disturbing the placid dining crowd a few doors down. Me & Becca listened to a song or two then decided to head out and down a few bourbons before the Brits were up. We got back just in time we did, strollin’ back in about sixty seconds before the old-gaffers-still-at-it Vibrators tore into some good ol’ UK punk rock; it was more accomplished than their immediate predecessors the ‘Pistols (who isn’t) but more raw than their other contemporaries like the Saints or the Buzzcocks. It was solid no-frills ’77 with wonderful guitars leads the way they ought to be, that is, about six seconds long.  Quite happy blokes they were too considering the fact that hardly anyone was there. I wondered at that until I found out the size of their guarantee; not astronomical but who the hell can afford guarantees at an in-store? I hear the guy who set this up ate it big time which sucks but all the more a crime and a shame in that they could have easily filled any downtown club. And my revelation for the night was just how much fun this kind of music is especially by people who were there the first time. So this set me to thinking that maybe its okay that emo kids are doing their own music for their own generation instead of slavish imitation of days gone by. Does this mean Captain America is softening his hardened heart to the strains of emo music?  Naw! the Alloy Orchestra  (silent movie accompaniment) Backstage (1918), The Bell Boy, The Garage (1919) 8/8/02 the Kimo Theater I went to this gig thinking there would be full orchestral accompaniment to these classic comedy flicks. Historical aside: in his misspent youth, Captain America was a fanatic about pre-1929 movies with the same zeal that I now geek onto rock and roll. Before that year (more or less), films were shot and shown with no sound but backed musically by a piano player or maybe a trio at the  “nabe’s” (cheap-o neighborhood moviehouses) or by full symphony orchestras in first-run city theaters. The Alloy Orchestra is a trio from --well I forget where – who’ve spend long hours learning every shot of a couple dozen classic silent films. They then tour and play behind hundreds of showings. Besides still digging aged movies, I just couldn’t pass this one up because the bill was three vintage shorts featuring Buster Keaton, the finest comedian throughout the 1920s (who lost fame & fortune to drink , sadly ending his life as a bit player in the Annette Funicello/ Frankie Avalon beach movies of the early 60s). My bud Jonah came along ‘cause I’ve dragged him to Keaton movies since his age was counted in single digits. We got there early and saw who else in the theater but Keif, ‘burque’s Mr Movie himself--The Guild and Alphaville Video and Basement Films and. . . our projectionist for the evening, Keif wrestled with the projector to adapt it to the slower frames-per-second rate of the silents but eventually made the machine work by a (ahem) triumph of the will. By the time the show was over, we were worn out from laughter and the frenetic pie-in-the-face pace. This even though these were not Keaton’s best, being among his earliest films as co-star to big-shot Fatty Arbuckle (who went down in flames in Hollywood’s earliest sex scandal which was more than enough reason to ruin careers back in 1921). The Alloy Orchestra consisted of three  guys, a synthesizer, a drum kit and percussion instruments ranging from brass chimes through kettle drum to an old bed pan. They did an admirable job and kept with the spirit of these venerable movies, not trying to update or use f/x to capture today’s audience(the humor, acting, conventions and very style of old silent movies is too obscure for most modern viewers to deal with). If you ever have the chance to see Keaton (anything from 1920 through 1927 is gold), don’t pass it up, preferably in a room full of people in the dark. Jo and I passed on the evening show (because we’ve seen it a million times ‘cause I have it on video now and have had it on 8mm film since I was about fourteen years old --geek!-- long before home video was even invented) but I sure hope all you goth kids went to scope Nosferatu, the very first (and unauthorized) film version of Dracula shot in Germany in 1922 by master director FW Murnau. It remained the truest film adaptation of Bram Stoker’s 1897 novel until Francis Coppola’s 1992 version, both matched in creepiness only by the 1931 Spanish language edition shot in Hollywood by night (on sets in use during the daytime for  the utterly banal so-called classic Bela Lugosi film we all know) and furthermore… Shit, I told you I was a geek… the Epoxies, the Mindy Set, the Phase 8/10/02 the Launchpad If this shit keeps up, Zed Stardust ‘gonna be banned from the ‘pad for busting shit. At least this time it was a mike stand instead of the mike, as well as my (thankfully empty) cocktail glass and almost his fool neck toppling off of Elton Grohl’s drum kit (don’t worry, folks, it’s all part of the act!). I was secretly hoping, however, he’d pull an “Iggy” and roll around in the broken glass but alas… But it was a hard-rockin’ Phase set. Could it be because at least half the band (no names please) was pretty much lit before they even got to the bar? Hear more about it when we return, here on Wig Wam Behind the Music!  The Mindys were next with their usual well-practiced emotional (not emo!) and tight set. Later, veering off into their signature extended pysche-inspired groove I was reminded of the strongest facet of an old ‘burque band, UV Transmission and well, well, well, who was spotted in the crowd, Behind the Music fans, but UV frontman Robert Urias in from Seattle or Portland or some damn place in the Northwest where all maturing hipsters go. Is there an Old Scenesters Home up there or something? Later, I learned that Mindy Matt was once part of the UV line-up so my ol’ ears aren’t as bad as I thought. Although the smoke machine output was thick as emo soup tonight, I had a great view right up front for a killer Epoxies spasticore set, music from the era when the line between Brit punk & new wave was worn thin indeed but before it degenerated into rubbish like Duran Duran.  Frontwoman Roxy Epoxy has a rich voice somewhere between the Rezillos’ Faye Fife and the Mo-Dettes’ Ramona with a touch of that Patsy Cline warble. The band sounds as if she’s  backed by Subway Sect and the Undertones with a little Stranglers and a bit o’ Buzzcocks.  They  have a great stage presence: there’s Roxy spazzing all over the place like a demented Pippi Longstocking without her anti-tic medicine; the entire band in stripe-y clothes & electrical tape, and finally their name in little winky lights. This was all quite comfortable however, not forced unlike high concept bands like Man Or Astro-Man? or the Causey Way.  There’s lots of sci-fi/brave new world imagery --not Star Trek fan-boy but the old Sex Pistols no-future outlook but with a giddy let’s-dance-until-Armageddon attitude.  My favorite is nuclear war being “a hydrogen solution to our suffering” in the poignantly (no, really!) romantic song We’re So Small: we always understood/ that everything would end like this/so hold me close/give me a kiss  Its quite touching really. And their beats make you wanna jump around like mad! Some of the tunes are so high-energy they’d make good bluegrass covers. I’ve been spinning the Epoxies debut LP non-stop since I got home from the show last night and its almost sunset now. I better give it a rest and--aw, what the hell--one more time!   Mykee Hates Life, the Phase 9/21/02 the MOONLIGHT LOUNGE What a difference a sound system makes. By sound quality alone, if not performance, this was one of the best Phase sets in a long while. They rocked the fuck out all around, spurred on by a great sound mix at the Moonlight (finally!). Its a great venue, nice & intimate (cramped as a mofo, in other words) but sound quality has not been its strong point until tonight. The Phase kids are at their best in places like this. The joint was packed with hardcore & metal black T-shirt types who turned out en masse for Fracas. Me, I left after the second act Mykee Hates Life ; they started as kind of rock-and-rolly with metalism but then veered towards the vice versa. After a bit, the songs all sounded the same to me. I had every intention of at least giving Fracas a listen. Trying  to take a break at Lindy’s Diner down the street I found they were long closed, prompting me to just hang it up. I ain’t as adventurous or patient with heavy music as I used to be, just a cranky old coot.  HEDWIG and the ANGRY INCH (play) 9/28/02  the Kimo Theater I was at first skeptical of the concept: a play telling the story only through narration in the context of a gig by Hedwig and the Angry Inch. But Donnan Sutherland as botched trans-sexual Hedwig pulled it off with style, wit and elegance, as much as can be believable in such a  tortured creature looking for wholeness and balance within her/himself, while looking for another him. That’s the art crowd synopsis. Otherwise, the set itself  rocked in a glam way with only one or two sorta ‘dud’ numbers that leant just a bit towards Broadway schmaltz coupled with the excesses of, say, Bowie at his most mawkish. Most of the cast/band had some connection to New Mexico; in other words, this wasn’t the original off-B’way cast but that proved no mark against them. No, the only marks against some of the band members were past gigs like touring with--the Anti-Christ and Anti-Satan rolled into one-- Dave Matthews.  I didn’t much care for the look-at-my-dick guitar leads of Mikey Baker even though mercifully short [the leads I mean) and Amanda Morris whose voice was a little too Tina to work in the trash/glam context. But as a whole, the music was quite good enough to make me look for the film soundtrack in the used bin next chance I get. As for the audience, I rather expected more fag-hags and dress-for-excess but didn’t spot a one. Rather, there were quite a few people who hadn’t gotten closer to rock than an REO Speedwagon VH1 special for many a year .  I mean, laughing at Hedwig spitting on the stage..?  That’s just typical character-acting business, not a comedic highlight. Nope, no sex or drugs or rocknroll except for what’s on stage. To paraphrase, That’s Vicarious Entertainment.  Fukrot, Kenji, Gary Coleman Hot Tub Party, Karen 9/28/02  Insomnia This one’s for the kids! Seriously though, besides being asked at the door if I’m “one of the parents” looking for my offspring, one reason I rarely go to Insomnia is because I have no idea what show is going on there when. They have no reason to advertise ‘cause kids will show up there anyway just to hang out, smoke cigarettes, cop a feel, etc. Since I don’t drink coffee (no wimpy health reasons or anything, I just don’t like the wretched stuff) its not I’m an ideal customer and they don’t need my business anyway. Thane of Padilla rang me up the evening before to hip me to the last ever Gary Coleman Hot Tub Party show. Since I’d never seen this mythological beast before, it would also be my first show; talk about economy! I rolled in just in time to hear the last few minutes of Karen, a band which I’ve had a back-of-mind nagging suspicion that I ought to go see. I was right. Some droning algebraic noisecore mindfuck hit the spot. Pissed-off youth make the best rock and either the drummer was a good actor or he really just had to throw his kick to the floor, pedal flying and the drum bounced pretty good too, audience-participation close no less. Then he jumped on it bringing to mind Cobain’s infamous backwards leap onto Grohl’s kit back in the day (some day, whatever) when grunge was merely a word-gleam in some music journalist’s eye. Verdict: Karen are good. I had no idea that Gary Coleman Hot Tub Party was such a high concept band. Props to the band for imaginative props and costume. Tasha looked like a Oaxacan rebel in black wool cap and bandana leaving only inscrutable eyes peering out of the darkness she was hanging back in--either that or a Black Bloc hippie.  Drummer Thane shirtless with Jack Daniel’s bandana: if he was a little beefier and had any hair on his chest would’ve looked like a biker (Jason offered “sea hag” which worked too). The Bassist-Who-Cannot-Be-Named looked sharp in his gas mask ensemble especially while smoking a cig. He would’ve looked sharper actually exhaling under the mask but nevermind. Carl didn’t dress high-concept but the song titles took longer than the song itself.  Their joyous noise was supplemented by various plastic buckets and flowerpots handed out with drumsticks which were gleefully accepted by the more demonstrative members of the crowd. But most gleefully taken were the pillows that turned the mosh-pit into more of a plush-pit. Pillow-fighting isn’t particularly punk but using greasy and unsavory pillows is. Band two: good shit. So far so good. Band three, Kenji from Ventura, California--- eh. They were tight as can be, I’ll say that but this nu-indie stuff just falls short in every way for me. Its not melodic or rocknroll enough to actually dance (not flail) to nor is it mean and pissed off enough to really get yer ya-ya’s out. I counted this band as an intermission. Now Fukrot on the other hand not only get their ya-ya’s out but everyone else in a three block radius as well. Killer godzilla-core made all the more poignant (sniff) by it being Miles’ birthday. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house.
LOCAL RELEASES
Gary Coleman Hot Tub Party /Italian Shoe Collective self-released split CD-R 2002 Noise and silence, screaming and shouting, drumming and guitars, song titles longer than the lyrics (Drinking and Driving Is So Much Fun Till You Run Head On Into A Family Of Four Killing Them Instantly and Have To Live With That Weight On Your Shoulders For The Rest Of Your Life.), clicks and bleeps, questions and more questions: this CD is not for those Sunday AM read-the-paper-drink-coffee-times (unless of course thrashing hardcore noise-blasts work for you on calm effulgent mornings).  The social commentary gets lost on these kinds of CDs when you lose the booklet and can’t tell what the hell you’re hearing except that somebody is damn well pissed off about something. In other words, the cover art, the words and the recording are a package, a sum total. As usual for me, I enjoy this kind of stuff more during a live performance where the medium is also part of the package. Plus its cool to see your friends jumping around like madmen. Since the GCHTP has officially split (I have no idea who the Italian Shoe Collective is-- maybe its them in another guise? ),    I can’t help but wonder, far in the future, what Carl’s grandchildren will say to hearing this after he’s asked “What did you do when you were a kid, grandpa?”
THIS MONTH’S CONTRIBUTORS
Judas Priest  8/13/02 Camel Rock Casino Submitted by Dee Snarl Judas Priest is funny as shit.  Not just for the usual reasons all heavy metal (especially, of course, ‘80s metal) is funny; Priest is funny in many of those ways, too, but they had the added bonus of having a flamboyantly gay singer.  Now, having a flamboyantly gay singer is not in itself terribly funny, but it’s a riot when you’re JUDAS FUCKIN’ PRIEST. Having a total flamer for a singer is just freaking hysterical when your audience is composed entirely of homophobic lunkheads.  Better yet is to adopt your wardrobe from the homosexual S&M underground, then influence all your fans, AND AN ENTIRE MOVEMENT MADE UP OF SIMILARLY MOUTHBREATHING MOOKS, to dress the same.   Make sure your lyrics are rife with homoerotic imagery that would make Pansy Division blush (one example: “Pounding the world like a battering ram…”), get your “unsuspecting” fans to, um, swallow it by the bucketload, and you’ve got irony that Spinal Tap could never touch.  The state of denial the heavy metal community lived in during the ‘80s, regarding Rob Halford, was profound. Okay, in fairness, Halford was discreet in ways, there were always suspicious whisperings, and hindsight is 20/20 – he’s been out for a few years (and in fairness to the metal community, Halford’s standing has only increased since he declared his homosexuality – I think these are more open times, after all). He hasn’t been in Judas Priest for some years, either, and Priest without Halford is only marginally more credible than, say, the Dead Kennedys without Jello.  He was replaced by Tim “Ripper” Owens, formerly lead singer for a Judas Priest tribute band – a predicament I find about as cheesy as a Judas Priest tribute band itself (the whole debacle is more or less the basis for the roundly reviled film Rock Star).  That, coupled with the gossip I’ve been hearing that Rob will soon return for a triumphant reunion album/tour, a la Iron Maiden, almost kept me home on this, the night before my first full day of school.  But no, the metal flows too thickly through my veins, and besides, I think Judas Priest was the last of the ‘80s metal must-sees I had to check off my list (next would be, I dunno, Twisted Sister?  W.A.S.P.? )  The gig was about as satisfying as could be hoped for – the band wisely played only a handful of new songs, and mostly just pumped out the classics.  Actually, it was my lucky night – they played two of their ancient, pre-major label (indie doesn’t somehow sound right) songs: staple Victim of Changes and Diamonds and Rust --(the Joan Baez song, tee-hee--though I’m not sure it’s such a great idea to do an “unplugged” version of a song that’s a cover, after all, of what was originally an acoustic folk song.)  Ripper had good presence and a sharp sense of humor, and he seemed appropriately aware of his humble role as surrogate Rob. I gotta say, though, not only did he not have his own vocal personality, he wasn’t even that great of a Halford impersonator, relying on a thin falsetto as opposed to Halford’s (comparatively) rich high tone.  He did seem out of place, all in all, like a smarter and cooler Fred Durst fronting a band of kind-of-tired Leather Rebels (they played tightly and energetically, but I was parked right in front of K. K. Downing, who hasn’t aged terribly well and looks something like a biker barslut).  The casual fan has no interest in a Halford-less Judas Priest concert.  For the true Rivetheads and Earthdogs, though, this was a great chance to see some of the legendary originators of heavy metal up close in an intimate setting (I used to literally have dreams about seeing giant ‘80s metal acts in clubs and such – in that sense, then, thank god for the fickleness of the masses). We were bangin’ like crazy to anthem after anthem; it was sweet.  Almost as good as the real thing.     Modest Mouse, Sonic Youth @ Memorial Stadium the Shins, Death Cab For Cutie @ Key Arena 9/1/02 Bumbershoot Arts Festival Seattle, Washington submitted by Lester the Molester First off, walking in a continuously moving line more than a mile long, at 2:30 in the afternoon, on a freaking Sunday, hung-over, trying to get into a gigantic football stadium with no beer garden, to see a rock show, is not a prime set-up for good-times happening. None were had, by me anyway, but the music was good anyway. I have been listening to Modest Mouse for years but had never seen them live and I wasn’t really sure what to expect. I know they normally do not play in front of thirty thousand people in the middle of the afternoon so I am not sure if it was a typical show for them. I was definitely surprised by  lead singer Isaac Brock’s voice.  Often on studio recordings his high pitched, somewhat nasal, whining can get on my nerves, really bad. Live, not the case. That Isaac Brock can sing, scream, yell, and even cry very powerfully. In fact the highlight of the 50 minute set was his powerful voice, I wish he would sing like that on an album. Anyway, the band rocked hard as well. Well, most of the time they did...there were three slow, sad songs that just didn’t work, especially in a football stadium. Overall, Modest Mouse’s show was surprising and good but it is tough to fill a football stadium so I ended up leaving with an empty feeling in my stomach...so I went and got some pizza.  About halfway through my second square slice of the veggie mix pizza, Sonic Youth began to play. I saw Sonic Youth almost ten years ago and it was one of the best shows of my life so I had high hopes when that familiar feedback and distortion began drifting across the fifty yard line. Funny thing, most of Sonic Youth is going gray but that is besides the point.  They hit the stage with all the fervor of a legendary, forty-something, innovative, indie-punk rock band that they have always been...only this time their kids were dancing on the side of the stage (kids of the youth). A highlight of the show was Thurston Moore getting crazy and wacky by playing his guitar with the scaffolding of the side of the stage and the ensuing guitar war between him and the rest of the band. When I say guitar war, I don’t mean dueling banjos, I mean a couple of guys running into each other with their guitars, yup, that was cool.  Kim Gordon ended up singing most of the songs played while dancing jubilantly around the stage with the most impressive energy of the day. Unfortunately they played mainly material from their newest album, instead of their entire, awe-inspiring career.  Overall, Sonic Youth was a bit crazy and fun, made you want to get really high and become a punk rock-hippie with their ten minute long punk-jam songs. It was still too early in the day to fully enjoy, and then there was that whole thirty thousand people in a football stadium thing that really didn’t work well either. I left the show feeling a little lost...so I went and found a beer garden. After two or three shot-glass sized beers out of plastic cups that I had to take a third student loan to pay for, the mood was beginning to swing towards rock. We were somewhere underneath the Space Needle, a light rain began to fall, it was just starting to get dark but we were stuck inside a beer garden that resembled somebody’s well manicured, white picket fence surrounded, front lawn. So we high tailed it out of that suburban nightmare into a mile-long winding line to get into Key Arena.  The Shins walked out onto the stage in front of ten thousand people. They had the dazed look in their eyes that a deer has when caught in headlights. They seemed a bit awkward and very nervous through the first three or four songs but the crowd was still into it. The turning point of the show came when the keyboardist (I know they are from Albuquerque, I should know their names but I don’t) thanked everybody for coming out to see them on the Sabbath, which then spawned the line “thank you for choosing Rock over Jesus!” which set the crowd to laughing and loosened up the band enough to give the best performance of the night , the best I have ever seen by the Shins.  From that point on the Shins were phenomenal. The lead singer took his voice to new levels that night and was in perfect harmony with the keyboard. His singing on New Slang was so amazing in that wistful song that I think I saw people crying afterwards, Christ...it was so good I wanted to kill myself (because, you know, that’s what that kind of music makes you want to do...right? )  The band got a little wacky after that beautiful song and actually managed to get lighters all over the arena going. After the lighters they asked the crowd to get something called the “biscuit wave” going, which seemed to be a cross between raising the roof and waving at the band. It was strange but the crowd loved it. There was only one thing that could top the “biscuit wave”, a real crowd wave just like at a basketball or football game.  With very little prodding the entire upper level of the arena did the wave, it went completely around four times and everybody participated, yup, that was cool. Normally at big festivals like Bumbershoot, there is little room for extended sets or encores but when the Shins left the stage, they got a standing ovation (by 10,000 people no less) and came back for two encores. They ended the show with Know Your Onion! and rode off into the Seattle sunset.  Beyond all the shenanigans of the band, they simply sounded great. It was an amazing performance and surprisingly they were the only band all night that successfully filled the gigantic arena or football stadium with their sound. Only pyrotechnics and sing-a-longs were missing from the Shins arena show. Even though Death Cab For Cutie was set to begin no more than an hour after the Shins, in the same arena, they made everybody leave. So we left and found a similar beer garden to the first but instead of white picket fences, this one had bamboo fences. I think we went from bad-fantasy land to exploited-frontier land (Disneyland is evil) all in the same festival.  Yeah, so then we had to get into the same mile-long winding line to get into Death Cab For Cutie and with hindsight, that was a bad move. The bamboo beer garden was good, the Death Cab For Cutie arena show was not as much. Well, they weren’t bad...just kind of strange. The band was good, driving beats and a pounding rhythm and lots of punk rock moves by various members of the band. None of that seemed to go along with what the lead singer was doing. He had a sweet, sad voice (like Robert Smith or Morrissey) and some weird Elvis-like dancing thing going on(gyrating pelvis). It is not like Death Cab For Cutie was bad, they just had some strange combinations (they are supposed to be sad and depressing yet they were all laughing and having fun on stage, there is no fun in emo biatch). The music did not make us leave early, the strange dancing of the lead singer did...we couldn’t handle anymore, it was scary. So we left early and found a really strange Irish bar in Ballard (a Scandinavian neighborhood in North Seattle) with the best Guinness pourer in the Northwest and a strange one-man-band. Yup, that was cool.  NEW MEXICO [s/t LP, 1980] recorded in Nashville, TN & Las Cruces, NM submitted by Obenjyo We haven’t heard from Obenjyo San for awhile but as always, the man is astute and spot-on even considering this damn record is 22 years old. That’s what we call up-to-the- minute reportage… So-ka!-- ed. Well if you ever wondered, here it is. The full-length by a band named after the state of New Mexico. So, what are they? Unlike Kansas, Alabama, Boston, Chicago, the New York Dolls, the Texans or any other regionally-named band who generally try to profess their Aryan badass-ness through song, New Mexico are eight cheesy beaners with moustaches in three-piece suits (pink w/ white pinstripes). There’s Mando, Felipe, Rudy, Bobby, Dennis, Sal, Ruben, Charlie, Jaime and the lovely blackalicious Sylvia in hot pink who not only sings but plays clarinet. I’ve seen this record only twice. The cover is a picture of a White Sands dune with “New Mexico” scrawled in the sand. The back is all the notes and a montage of individual photos of the band; kinda Murph & the Magictones dark lounge shots with hot pink effervescence emanatin’ from their bodies. So yeah it’s disco. Being an unabashed New Mexican (third generation) and it was ninety-nine cents, I bought it. Is it kitschy? Fuck yeah! Is it bad and cheesy? Hell yeah! Is it competent and well done? Oh yeah! For crap its done good. Compare to See Jungle by Bow Wow Wow  (1981). It kicks its ass --which isn’t hard but I forgot my point. “Get ‘Em While They’re Hot” is a guilty pleasure for me. So why review a piece of crap? I don’t know. I guess its just a bizarre NM artifact. I mean,  eight beaners and one black chick from ‘Cruces go all the way to the Country Capital of the World to record a disco record when disco was at that point pretty much dead. Funny thing though the Cramps were recording in Tennessee around the same time as New Mexico. Wonder if they crossed paths.  Because of its randomness in NM audio history (and NM is full of randomness) its up there with the likes of Buddy Holly, Long John Hunter, Glenn Campbell, Femme Fatale, Strawberry Zots, Henry’s Dress/Aisler Set, Burgundy Run, Fireballs, Drags, Scared of Chaka, Shins, Sol Disont 7” split with Stereolab, Neutral Milk Hotel’s drummer, Neil Hamburger, Brain Jonestown Massacre’s Jeff Davies, Jim Morrison: alleged native, Bo Diddley in Los Lunas, Dylan onetime Gallup resident, numerous references to “Alburquerque” in song as well as “Gallup” and reference  to “West NM” in Rod Hart’s CB Savage (if you got the 7”, give it to me) and don’t forget the Thunderbirds, a four-piece from Isleta Pueblo circa ’65 (get Pauli to do a review). Anyway if you see this, get it; at least for the cover. BE PROUD.
Wig Wam Bam (by Captain America PO BX 4865 Albq NM 87196 captainamerica1941@hotmail.com) is running out of places to leave the mag each month; we’re down to AstroZombies, Launchpad, Moonlight Lounge, mecca Records & Books and Natural Sound and Insomnia.
Wig Wam Bam is written by Captain America  | po box 4865 | albuquerque, nm 87196