Issue # 51 July 2003 thewigwambam.com
Home This Issue Photo Gallery Projects Archives
Ignoring Objectivity Since 1998 WIG WAM BAM “Albuquerque zine of music & nepotism”
LOCAL SHOWS NM venues, bands from here or there
Get the Girl, the Roxieharts, Hoboes In Limbo, The Jonnycats, the Blastamottos, Unit 7 Drain, the Sweatband, the Datsuns, the Star Spangles, the Dirty Novels, the Dirty Novels, Prime Certified, Fast Heart Mart ,  Hedwig & the Angry Inch, DJ Obenjyo, the Long Goners, Karen, the Beggars, the Sweatband, the Roxieharts, Mistletoe, the Service Group, the Sweatband, Karen, the Mindy Set, the Thermals, All-Girl Summer Fun Band, Prime Certified, Karen 6/24/03 KUNM-FM live broadcast
MESA TEMPE, ARIZONA
Crimson Sweet, the Green Leaves, the Jeff Dahl Band East Side Records 217 University Tempe, AZ (980) 968-2011
LOCAL RELEASES local bands, any label
the Age Of Giants  (s/t 7”, 2002) Foma The Scared EP (CD EP, 2003) Karen (s/t CD-R, 2003)
LOCAL SHOWS
Get the Girl, the Roxieharts 5/29/03 Burt’s Those Roxy girls just get better all the time. TNA was a good unit but never played out enough for reliable consistency. The number of live performances lately makes all the difference. Amy was shaking her thang all over the damn place like a singer ought to. Along with the good set at Elliot’s Bar last week, this one was the aces. Anybody out there recall Li’l Archie comics, the adventures of Archie, Betty, Veronica, Jughead and the gang as little kids? Well, San Diego’s Get The Girl was like Li’l Cherie Curie meets Li’l Pat Benatar. But before you aficionados of  ‘classic’ chick-rock take that as a compliment, consider that Li’l Archie comics sucked ass. The Roxies plainly overpowered Get The Girl, an all-gal outfit who are too skinny to rock, having barely a butt between the four of ‘em. The guitar player had some muscular arms but didn’t use them to advantage on her instrument, too bad. The singer was striving for some Benatar vocals but couldn’t pull it off. She was singing with her throat (it sounded kind of painful) instead of her gut as the operatically-trained Benatar would have. Limp cockrock is all I can say about them. Some guys dig girls playing cockrock but I’ve never liked that shit to begin with. But if you’re gonna do it at all, ya gotta go balls-out (or in this case ovaries-out) but they was as tame as their Cover Girl make-up. The drummer was technically good and played hard but soul-less which means Cara Roxy, though less experienced, topped her hands down.   Hoboes In Limbo 5/30/03 the Blue Dragon The Jonnycats, the Blastamottos, Unit 7 Drain, the Sweatband 5/30/03 the Atomic Cantina More and more these days ex-punkers are goin’ twang. My ol’ buddy Robblyn has switched from long-ago electric crustcore bass to her new acoustic bass (what a pretty machine that is!) and fiddle. So I finally got my ass inside the Blue Dragon Coffeeshop after all these years. I felt a little sheepish but not so much because I’d never gone before but because one of my kids has been employed there for a year and I’ve never gone to visit. I’m not saying who it is but no, it ain’t Benjyo.   The rest of Hoboes In Limbo was Martin Fast Heart Mart on guitar and Kevin picking banjo. Their set had lots of bluegrass standards like Little Maggie, Shady Grove and your usual assortment of murder ballads, lonesome keening and a  tune or two with F chords thrown in for that bluesy feel. In all, it was middlin’ rough with some meanderings but got my toes tapping anyway, reminded of my high-school career as a bluegrass/folk snob (my gang hated rocknroll back then and why not? All our classmates were listening to J. Geils Band and Blue Oyster Cult). The set’s closer (an original by Kevin) was a treat though. He seemed a little apprehensive because its more ambitious than your normal G-C-D changes but they pulled it off just fine. I especially enjoyed the song because it was different but still in a comfortable down-home vein, not that stilted “progressive” tripe by Alison Kraus, David Grisman and Jerry Douglas (all sublime pickers when playing traditional) who have ruined contemporary bluegrass. I was getting pretty comfy sinking into that big ol’ couch but my rock and roll alarm clock went off and I knew it was time to head to the Atomic Cantina. Besides, Hoboes In Limbo had played their entire repertoire and since the crowd had turned over, were starting the set again, a good departure point for me. Feeling pretty damn good that internal alarm clock, I walked into the Atomic and right to the stage as the Sweatpants--I mean-- Sweatband ‘swang’ into their first number, in spite of a shitty mix (what again?!). First Isaac was too loud, then he turned down but Juliet became overpowering. I couldn’t for the life of me hear Zac’s “new” 70s Rickenbacker bass, bought from one of those Mistletoe dudes; too bad. It looked sweet and made him look more badass, dude. And now that I know Ryan a little better I can fuck with him a little too: I can hardly ever hear that little ol’ drum set for shit, its almost like one of those wind-up monkey-drummer toys. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not making simian comparisons (I don’t know him that well yet) but am just requesting that the kit be miked so we can hear him slam it. Now, Isaac I can make fun of all day and night so here goes: that guitar strap has been slipping off his axe for about three and a half years now but I think he likes it that way because it gives him an excuse to drop to his knees like Jimi while he rips out the rockstar leads.   I’ve been trying to find something to harass Juliet about but  haven’t found it yet. Ms Legend had the moves down, slipping around on stage like she was doing the Cuban Slide, working the crowd to good response. Oh, I’ve got it! I can blame Juliet “McLaren” for the entire band dressed in red. My first thought was “the White Stripes!” (oh man they’ll never forgive me for that one) but I soon recalled wanker Malcolm McLaren in 1975 outfitting the New York Dolls from head to toe in red leather to play in front of a Russian Communist flag. The Dolls themselves were a little too junked out by that time to intelligently think that one through. Next Unit 7 Drain tore the fucking shit out of their set. These guys are different (and better) every time I hear them. Its always amazed me because I haven’t yet cared much for their recordings but on stage they rip. They are easily at their best live. Their opening song tonight was a Romeo Goes To Hell cover and since that was the night’s opening band, it was purely inspired, tasteful and gentlemanly to boot. Rex Goes To Hell was tickled to death over the whole thing. Next, up from Las Cruces was a blast from the past or more precisely the Blastamottos fronted by Kenta Henmi who handled leads in the Jonnycats here in the ‘burque back in 1994. The ‘Cats played rockabilly flavored cowpunk back before eight zillion other bands thought of it. Who knew this “cat” was still around? The Blastamottos were all cowpunk without the rockabilly (a good move since anything less than excellent rockabilly is just badbilly). They pulled out a killer cover tonight, an impressively clean,  brilliant instro version of Del Shannon’s 1961 smash hit Runaway. Why is it that no one ever mines this late 50s/earliest 60s territory? How many covers do you ever hear older than say a 1965 Stones? Only once that I can recall in hundreds of shows over the years: the Young Hasselhofs did Dion & the Belmonts’ classic Runaround Sue at a Mecca in-store show here in 1999. Not that doo-wop is a favorite of mine (not at all) but there’s plenty material here waiting to be picked up.   The Blastamottos were a great last-minute add to the bill but as they say on late-night TV, wait! there’s more! Three other ex-Jonnycats were in the crowd and jumped up to close the night with a Stooges cover, No Fun. Seeing them up there again made me feel like --well, not young because I wasn’t young then either but less middle-aged then I am now. It was too bad they didn’t do a Jonnycats number but they were minus vocalist Jon Jarden and so didn’t attempt one of their old rip-em-ups. Too bad the reunited Johnnies only got the one tune before the lights went up and we all stumbled out (kicked out) into the street. Something about the Atomic and Burt’s being open simultaneously has lately made people not want to go home but muck about on the sidewalk for another half-hour. Luckily I was invited to the Sweathouse where Isaac had the incredible foresight to stash beer and cigarettes beforehand (what a musical genius!) and so we watched glam-rock videos into the very wee hours.     the Datsuns, the Star Spangles, the Dirty Novels                      6/2/03 Launchpad This was new music night. That is, a band each from New Mexico, New York and New Zealand. The Novels opened with a beautiful big sound. Having been awhile since I’d caught a Launchpad show, I forgot how great it can sound there when the soundman is paying attention. Chris had the levels nailed right to the fuckin’ wall. Standing in my favorite spot up front, I could easily focus on any individual and hear each perfectly. If you pay any attention at all you know just how unusual this is in any club. Hell, it sounded good just walking through the front door, also remarkable. All of which makes a band sound better than ever. Chris deserves a raise. Too, surrounded by all that equipment on stage from the two touring major-label acts (Capitol Records) the Dirty Novels looked more rock n’ roll than they already do, no mean feat. New York’s Star Spangles looked more mod/beat than they sounded and came off as somewhere after Pub Rock but before Cheap Trick, with underlying Beach Boys melodies, not a bad place to be really. Best of all, they have nothing to do with any of that latest spate of  “big in New York” bands. No grandstanding, no b.s., just a good set. New Zealand’s the Datsuns on the other hand did nothing for me although everyone else in the place (except for “New Sincerity” Chuck) thought they were the shit. I partly agree: they were shit just without the the. It sounded like ZZ Top covering Cinderella.     So I bailed for a fiestaburger at the Frontier which I found much more enjoyable than that metal-rock wank. Then who shows up but my favorite pair of sisters who stopped in for a shake after attending the same show. Not quite an after-party but a nice way to wind down the evening nonetheless. Burgers, shakes & rock ‘n’ roll? Sounds all-American don’t it? the Dirty Novels, Prime Certified, Fast Heart Mart 6/13/03 Golden West The ‘West was as packed as I’ve seen the place in recent memory. Guess its time for the owners to once again (ho-hum) take a stab at presenting rock shows before they flip out in a month or so and retreat to cheapass biker bar rock and shitkicker country. As much as I love the space, that act is way past old. Fast Heart have some good basslines and a few catchy tunes, a little folky, a little jazzy, a little alt.rock. If you like mellower dance floor action rather than hip-shaking mad mayhem, they’re the ticket. Me, I like stompin’ dirty sweat-inducing rock and fucking roll baby so I wasn’t tempted to jump around but still was glad to see the band’s progression after  catching ‘em only once before almost two years ago at the debut New Mexico Showcase. Can’t say I miss their old raga-rock incarnation. I’m not much for the raps unless seriously thrown down in the non-commercial underground. Prime Certified are going straight for the cheeseball-jugular which rarely floats my boat in any musical style (burque’s goofy sci-fi band of yore Luxo Champ is about the only “joke” format band I can listen to with any regularity and even then, there’s not more than a dozen songs committed to vinyl & plastic. That’s probably a good thing). Every-song-as-punchline wears me out rather quickly. Is there a white boy out there who can/wants to rap serious-like? I’m waiting… Predictable as I am, I was all over the floor for the Dirty Novels set especially since the sound system was sounding good tonight, thanks to Testy Kool Dauberman at the knobs. Loud yes but just the way I like it. It wasn’t the house system by the way. The Golden hasn’t been bothered for years to come up with any equip that makes the band sound worth a fuck. Hedwig & the Angry Inch 6/13/03 KiMo Theater I figure if I go see the same bands time after time, why not a play with band whenever it rolls through town? Hedwig and the Angry Inch made it to the KiMo only nine months ago but this wasn’t too soon to come back. I mean, fuckin’ Mike Watt plays Albuquerque like every eight weeks… Not really anything to add this time around (it was as good as before) except for one good deletion: last time there was one gal in the Angry Inch who belted her part out like she was damn Whitney Houston or something. Hedwig may have at one time been Broadway but there’s no place here in the glam/punk milieu for that multi-octave warbling that birthed skeeze-ho’ Christina Aguilar and every chick singer since who wants to be an American Idol. Now if only the Angry Inch could play some dates just as a rock band with some new material, I’d be there all the time. DJ Obenjyo 6/12/03 Burt’s the Long Goners 6/12/03 Atomic Cantina I’d always heard that the joint was jumping at the Tiki for DJ nights but am never quite tempted to go out for canned music, no matter how good the deej. But since Obenjyo has good taste (better in fact than what most of you are willing to hear, you dumb bastards), I figured it was high time to pay a visit. To my surprise the place was pretty quiet. A sole dancer was working her groove out on the floor. It took me a few to recognize La Cat Eyes who regularly came out to punkrock about six or seven years ago. When I met her then at the Launchpad, Claudia was underage; someone wasn’t doing their job but that’s not uncommon is it, especially when it comes to young cuties trying to get past the door. Some of you may remember her bass-playing sister (ex-Sweetheart, around 1999) who’s busy raising a couple of babies these days. Anyway, Claudia got me to dance a song or two but the pull of live music is always strong so I wandered next door to see what was up at the Atomic. Thursdays at the Cantina lately is swing night with the Long Goners who slap out the rockabilly riffs clean as a whistle. That big boy guitar player from the rez is hot damn shit, more than worth the price of admission even if it cost to get in the Atomic which it doesn’t but you know what I mean. The Goners play the genuine item and each member has for a long time, well before that crapass ‘”swing” revival of the mid-90s. I’m glad that the Good Lord in Her infinite wisdom decided to nip that one in the bud… After a half-dozen numbers, I wandered back to Burt’s and lo and behold the place was packed and Ben was pleasing the crowd with hip-shakin’ rockyroll. Looks kinda lonely DJ-ing up there on stage. Me, I’m still waiting to hear this band that Obenjiyo claims he’s in. Not that I wanna start rumors or anything but I hope its not with his “imaginary” friends… Karen, the Beggars, the Sweatband, the Roxieharts 6/18/03 Burt’s I suppose it isn’t in good taste to review a show that was celebrating the fiftieth issue of this pitiful rag you’re holding in your hands but who ever said I had good taste? I was minding my own damn business when Zed Stardust and Rocky de la Mecca ganged up on me and asked who I wanted to hear. Sioux City Pete & the Beggars needed a show this night so there was the starting point. In typical fashion I was late for the opening Roxieharts but heard most of the set. In a surprise audience appearance was their biggest supporter Liz A back into the nightlife for the first time after her world-class gymnastics tour. Not that there was much doubt to begin with but the Sweatband clinched good review from me like forever with a cover of the Sweet’s Wig Wam Bam. The matching Wig, Wam and Bam t-shirts reminded me of Snap, Crackle and Pop of Rice Krispies fame (or is that Manny, Moe and Jack, the Pep Boys?). The Beggars played their signature sonically trashed set, musically so bad its good and then halfway back to bad again. There may be some rhythm, melody and timing under the auditory morass somewhere but I had a hard time identifying more than a few glimpses through Pete’s shall we say unique bandleading style. The first and last time I heard Karen was about a year ago at the Gary Coleman Hot Tub Party farewell show at Insomnia (a venue which now sleeping in peace). After missing them play out so many times, I decided I better get them on this gig so I could ensure hearing their onslaught. Holy fuck, it was worth the wait! They were the band of the night, a blazing set kicking everyone-in-the-house’s ass up & down the block. Feedback like the mythical medieval worm (dragon) Ouroborus feeding on its own tail, thundering beats like Keith Moon using your eardrums as his drum kit packed with fireworks, adding up to an ungodly but melodious racket played by all the angels in heaven as well as the ones banished to hell. Well, I guess I’m exaggerating: not every angel but most of ‘em. Some of their work is similar to an unrestrained Prids (high praise indeed) not bound to conventional song structure but not at all some dipshit “jam”. Matt’s solid drumming keeps the cohesive thread while everyone is flying off in all  directions that somehow end up in the same place. Rachel G is the feedback queen but not without acute taste meaning she squalls up some of the most listenable feedback ever. She’s perfectly complimented by Dan’s guitarwork, the two fitting together really well. Meanwhile Justin is hunched over the keyboards like some mad scientist in the ecstatic throes of creation. This is a band to keep your eyes on and ears open to. Mistletoe, the Service Group, the Sweatband                                            6/22/03 Atomic Cantina Sunday Rock and Roll Matinee? An interesting concept. But who the fuck feels like getting out to a bar at four in the friggin’ afternoon? And certainly, going home drunk in broad daylight afterwards is none too appealing. We were spared that indignity by staying out until all-hours at “New Sincerity” Chuck’s Par-B-Q (half after-party, half Bar-B-Q). Even Ernie Love Beads showed up, passing through town from Denver to see the family in El Paso with his sobrinito in tow. It was good fun and not even raw-on-the-inside grilled bratwurst did anyone in. As for the matinee show, I got there in time for the Sweats’ extend-o jam last song but fortunately missed the live-onstage-sex-show fellatio antics that I heard Julie Legend’s and drummer Ryan’s parents among the crowd were witness to. Shocking, just shocking! By the way, since the Stardust parental units showed up for a Sweatband show a few nights back, all we’re lacking now is Mr & Mrs Isaac to stroll into the club some night. And soon. I say we take up a collection to fly them out from Brussels or wherever the heck they live for Parental Appreciation Night. The Service Group played some snappy pop that was pleasant but nothing to get overly excited about…except..! their drummer--- was a powerhouse. With more rapid-fire fills than anyone else could possibly shake a drumstick at, she pounded hard & loud but still in perfect time and with no wasted movements. Too many drummers flail all over the place, squandering power that ought to be coming from their arms instead of gravity. I swear the sticks never reached any-where above her shoulders. The guitar player told me the drummer’s dad is the owner of their label Squid vs Whale and that she does session work. So that accounts for her professionalism  in the best sense of loaded term. She was by far the high point of the afternoon’s musicalities. Finally those Mistletoe dudes rounded out the show with their Sunday afternoon pop rock, a fitting finale somehow. I bailed just before set’s end to stock on some Par-B-Q supplies for Chuck’s evening soiree. But what I wanna know is brought those guacamole potato chips?  Karen, the Mindy Set, the Thermals, All-Girl Summer Fun Band, Prime Certified 6/22/03 the Walls A two-for-one show. In other words, after the poppy stuff was over, the pesky all-agers got the boot so us of a more mature (yeah right) age could booze it up in a more-or-less private party in honor of Frank Walls’ birthday. The crowd-pleasing Prime Certified kicked things off with over-the-top goofball raps, dog, with tongue so far in cheek it hurts the mouth. I wonder why white rappers never take the shit seriously. From suckjob Vanilla Ice to okay-okay-we-got-your-point-already Beastie Boys to the (c)rap metal of Limp Bizkit, white boyz are too corrupted to be taken seriously at rhyme. If I had to choose a white rapper to listen to, I pick Eminem. Seriously. Once you get past his obvious “hey look at me!” crap (misogyny, queer-bashing)the man’s actually got a few things to say rather than the typical rap shit of how big his car, his dick or his woman’s ass is.  Prime Certified are having a ball doing what they do and its fun for a bit but how many times can ya listen to the same jokes? Once or twice does it for me. Down to an improved tighter three-piece since their set here last month, I enjoyed the Thermals more than before. Something almost reminds you of Lookout! Pop punk but they redeem themselves with good hooks and manic vocals and rhythms reminiscent of all-inclusive CBGB punk without being derivative (punk once included such disparate acts as Talking Heads and Television as well as the obvious Ramones and Blondie). The Thermals almost make you wanna pogo and that’s a scary thought. Shoot me in the head please if you ever witness me jumping up and down like that. The All Girl Summer Fun Band are getting a lot of ink these days, the first time in years a girly jangle-pop band out of the Northwest have gotten so much attention. If you don’t expect your socks rocked or to hear that other notorious NW sound  --riot grrrl-- you’ll actually find some good stuff although not much different than what you’d have heard in Portland almost a decade ago. They take what they do seriously but you’ll get a clue by paying attention to the very name of the band and you won’t be disappointed. While on the stage talking about how good it was for a couple of members to be back after growing up here, it hit me. Lead singer Kim Baxter performed and released some cassette tapes here as Braddy Janet back in ‘96 when just out of high school. Even then, she had that Portland-girl action going on. I still have a couple of those tapes which I pull out every once in awhile. I’ve got a pile of this kind of stuff so any of you now-mature rockers: watch out! I have your dim past in my collection. In fact, I spotted at least two of you this very evening so a word to the wise… After the crowd stocked up on Summer Fun merch they slowly dispersed unless they were cool enough to know about the after-show. Me I had no idea it was afoot until a wee bit earlier so what I’m saying is that I’m not cool but was allowed to stay anyway. A temporarily four-piece Mindy Set took on a much different sound without Mike’s guitarwork (he on a brief hiatus), relying instead on Isaac’s keyboards. Good thing Isaac was spot-on tonight, just pristine. Of course with keys in the lead, the sound is entirely different than their earlier Manchester-influenced guitar rock, sending them closer to the mid-period psyche of the vastly underrated Blues Magoos (circa 1967 New York) rather than the swirly Britrock of Coast or Mantaray (mid-90s England). Which brings up a quandary for me. Much as I love keyboards and Isaac’s work, it changes the band’s flavor as just described. Quite the conundrum! The Manchester Sound (up to & including Stone Roses and yes even early Oasis) is these days sadly an influence to no one. What I love about the Mindy Set is they took that starting point and cast off with their own brilliant version of it. The addition of keyboards betrays that sound somewhat. I’m waiting to hear the new recordings before I’ll say any more. Different sound or not, I still had a blast bopping away this killer set right next to my dancefloor soul sister. Yo, what up, blood? After missing every damn show of theirs for a year, hearing Karen twice in one week was a treat and a half. Tonight’s set was noisier and further out there than a couple nights ago but remained powerful. I’m convinced they’re one of the best things we’ve got going here these days. Amid the noise & feedback lurks a touch of melody and a lot of  rhythm, meaning you can dance if you pay attention. I did. Karen 6/24/03 KUNM-FM, live broadcast Spoiled beyond belief by two searing sets this week I was ready for more feedback-drenched ear-bleed velocity by Karen. They instead threw a curve with a more quiet and ambulant approach. The studio mix over the airwaves wasn’t the greatest but still worthy to tune in. Gratitude due to Mr D. Caterwaul for having the foresight and good taste to book Karen on the Music To Soothe the Savage Beast show during his guest DJ spot. He could’ve taken the opportunity to spin records at an hour that the average person is still awake rather than his usual who’s-still-awake? graveyard shift. But he chose instead to gracefully share the spotlight. What a gentleman!
MESA TEMPE, ARIZONA
Crimson Sweet, the Green Leaves, the Jeff Dahl Band 6/10/03 Hollywood Alley, Mesa, AZ Why the hell anyone would want to visit the Phoenix area after, like, March 30 is beyond my understanding (let’s not even talk about living there, OK?). Everyone there kept telling me how cool the temperature was, only topping out each day at about 100 or 101° instead of the over a hundred and ten of last week. Yeek. I was there to work a couple of days so of course I took advantage of my taxpayer-funded trip to amuse myself on the down time. Since I get to pick the timing of my trips within a week or two, I made sure I was there to catch Mr Jeff Dahl (ex- Angry Samoans, ex-Vox Pop). I’d also heard good things about New York trio Crimson Sweet. Hollywood Alley  is the Phoenix area’s headquarters for trash rock. Not being anywhere near ASU (that’s next-door Tempe) the audience skews towards your older booze-hound types, long hair rawkers with Harley tee’s, pale gals wearing short & tight leopard skin mini’s, too much make-up and /or tattoos. In short, the type of people who appreciate straight-up  rockn’ roll even they may sadly also enjoy AC/DC or want to emulate Lemmy. I don’t really know Dahl but enough to check with him whenever I’m blowing through town to ask what’s up. So when he told me his band was playing, I felt a whole lot better about the trip. What he didn’t tell me was that this was the first Jeff Dahl Band gig in a year. I tell ya, it didn’t show. It was a short set and him being the home-town boy (nearby Cave Creek), he was courteous enough to open with a somewhat short set in order to let the other bands stretch out. They were good solid rock with a foundation of Dolls/Stones aesthetic but Jeff’s not just cashing in on the new rockn’roll fad. Its just what he’s been doing for years. Manning a flying V guitar, Dahl’s leads are longer than regular ol’ punk rock but short enough to bypass the wank factor entirely. For a three-piece, they made some good noise with his originals and to close out, a cover each of the Dead Boys and Alice Cooper, Sonic Reducer and Eighteen. Second locals Green Leaves had a rough time of it. I don’t know whether to admire them for making a go of it or pity ‘em for their show quality. See, they’re high schoolers who are somewhere betwixt Nirvana and Radiohead (dubious to begin with). The ‘Leaves lost their drummer two days before the gig and so played an “unplugged” set. I’m not certain whether it was more painful to listen or to watch ‘em squirm. I’d have voted for Dahl to pull an extra-long set instead but I have the feeling he’s the one who encouraged them that “the show must go on” or something. Nice try, kids. Crimson Sweet didn’t totally live up the rep I’d heard but still put on a good rock show. The opener was a slow but well-played instro piece, not at all like the rest of the set but along the lines of Interpol or a proto-Prids. Gotta admit I was a little disappointed when they amped it up for the next song instead of continuing in that vein. A three-piece of straight-up punky rock, the bassist and drummer played by hard fast rules, driving the band. Frontwoman Polly Watson didn’t exactly measure up with her elementary leads and a typical chick-rock voice ala Seven Year Bitch. Still, for a mostly-empty joint, Crimson Sweet played as if the house was packed, for which I had to thank them. When I told Polly that I was passing through from ‘burque, she blurted out “Frontier sweet rolls! ”. Me, I can’t stand those things but pop culture-wise, they’re what we’re known for. If the Crimson Sweet ever play here, they’re   certainly worth checking out. Bring ‘em a to-go order of sweet rolls all around. By just after midnight it was all over and I was back in my room sort of grateful so that I’d feel better for my early morning work-day but too tired to sleep just yet. Too bad ‘cause as usual, there wasn’t jackshit on the cable telly, not even a bad VH1 Behind The Music. East Side Records 217 University Tempe, AZ (980) 968-2011 Among dozens of record shops listed on the formidable site, azpunk.net East Side was noted as the best. Even not having visited the others, I’d be hard-pressed to disagree. Rolling into a fully-stocked shop like this always blows away my usual cheapskate “used only” rule as new product gets tossed on my ever mounting pile. Here’s a partial list of my scores: an indispensable 1966 Wilson Pickett re-issue, a Dogs collection from the late 70s (rockn’roll from Detroit, not the punk Slaughter & the Dogs or the seminal French rockn’roll  band also called the Dogs), the Brats (featuring Rick Rivets who was almost a NY Doll), both Ramonetures releases (Ramones/X songs played Ventures style!), the Others (Italian retro-garage 1996), a pristine copy of Bowie’s Aladdin Sane, a latter The Boys “odds & sods” comp and to top it off,  that ol’ Luxo Champ EP I’d never actually seen before in the flesh. Add about eight or twelve more and you’ll get an idea of the cool shit I found at East Side with little to no digging required. The guy behind the counter was obviously pleased that I was throwing the bucks his way and so tossed in Suicide for free. Too bad it was the misguided new reunion one rather than the classic but oh well. Good thing my flight was only two hours away or I’d have had to throw away my stuff to fit all this shit into my luggage.
LOCAL RELEASES
the Age Of Giants  (s/t 7”, 2002) www.theageofgiants.com theageofgaints505@htomail.com Having never heard these guys before (now split), this vinyl was handed to me at Franks Walls birthday show. Not quite a door prize but I guess there were lots of leftovers. Umm, what can I say? Full on emo from the second the needle hits the first groove until its ejected from the last. Foma The Scared EP (CD EP, 2003) www.Itsallfoma.com Little Kiss Records PO BX 14711 Albuquerque NM 87196 www.littlekissrecords.com  At first listen, you’d think Foma is a meek little ol’ band but there’s a lot of dynamic stuff going on from the effervescent keys to brooding cello to choppy guitar to popping drums. Its not (and they’re not) as fragile as you think. Don’t write them off because although its emotional, it has none of the sad bastard and loud/soft/loud/soft tired, tired, tired song-structure  of “classic’ emo rock. Production quality on this disc tops the last one amazingly enough. Gee, once again no surprise here that (Mistletoe) Alex Rose was involved on the engineering side. A beautiful disc capturing just what Foma is all about, even (sadly)at times moreso than their live set. Karen (s/t CD-R, 2003) Feeling like a big-shot (rather than the punkass guttersnipe I actually am) the Karen kids handed me this disc before most everyone else. Needless to say, I’ve played it relentlessly. While nothing can match the ferocity of their live set, this gives you a chance to really hear the song structures usually  furtive beneath their live tumult. Too short is the worst thing I can say about it.
Wig Wam Bam (by Captain America PO BX 4865 Albq NM 87196 captainamerica1941@hotmail.com) wallows in its own crapulence [look it up; it don’t mean what you think] and may (or not) be found at AstroZombies, Free Radicals, the Launchpad, the Walls, Burt’s, mecca Records & Books, Natural Sound, the Atomic Cantina, Damaged Goods Records, Newsland and a Church of Scientology near you: read and heal yourselves! )
Wig Wam Bam is written by Captain America  | po box 4865 | albuquerque, nm 87196