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Issue # 56 Jan-Feb 2004 thewigwambam.com |
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| Ignoring Objectivity Since 1998
WIG
WAM
BAM
“Albuquerque
zine of music & nepotism”
I was
minding my own business at a show last month when Gordy of Black Maria gave
me a hearty handshake because, for some reason, he digs this rag. To my
surprise when the guy walked away, I had a crumpled-up twenty-dollar bill
in my hand that wasn't there before. Wig Wam Bam believes in sharing the
wealth (my namesake, the original Captain America, would call it "communism"
He'd be rolling in his grave if he was, like, real and died). So in honor
of this sum of cash, WWB is announcing:
The Gordy Memorial Scholarship Fund Deadline is March 31, 2004. No shit. This is for real. |
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| 42nd Street, Dead on Point Five, Black
Maria, the Sweatband, Hoboes in Limbo, Mindy Set, Unit 7 Drain, Romeo Goes
to Hell, Karen, Fast Heart Mart, Roxieharts, Rebuilt, Rage Against Martin
Sheen, the Eyeliners, Dirty Novels, Word Salad, Noisear, Bulletrainmafia,
Los Losers |
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The Movie Theatre [CD 2003] Hoboes In Limbo On the Porch [CD 2003] X-mas demo [CD 2003] Peninah Wolpo Life On the Inside [cassette 2002] Abandon All Hope [split 7’ vinyl 2002 with FRONTSIDE] New Black [holiday mini-CD, 2003] |
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October [CD demo, 2003] by Dee Snarl |
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| LOCAL
SHOWS |
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| 42nd Street 12/5/03 @ Popejoy Hall UNM All Singing, All Talking, All Dancing! That’s how they used to bill movie musicals in the early 1930s when sound-on-film was a new innovation. Director Busby Berkeley’s 1933 epic 42nd Street (one of my all-time favorites) was the first and best musical powerhouse during the Great Depression and can’t be beat for sheer schmaltz, outrageous production numbers and gams, gams, gams! With that in mind, I knew a stage show wouldn’t live up to my expectations (most of the routines could never be replicated live) but there was no way I would not attend. I’m a sucker for a well-done musical (Cabaret or West Side Story, anyone?). To make up for the loss of spectacle--and to their credit-- the stage producers added plenty of additional Harry Warren/Al Dubin numbers from subsequent Berkeley extravaganzas like Gold Diggers of 1933, Dames and Gold Diggers of 1937. To my surprise my escort Jacqui likes goofball musicals too, a far cry from her ‘Paso chuco-punk roots. I thought she was gonna bust into song and start hoofing it around the aisles in the middle of the performance. The play is virtually flop-proof because its that classic (hackneyed) storyline that everyone knows: the kid in the chorus line gets her big break because the star of the show busted her ankle just before the premiere. The biggest disappointment: The title song 42nd Street, the grand finale in the flick is crammed with a phalanx of dancing hookers, honking taxi cabs, jealous lovers & crimes of passion, gigolos, sultry adagio dancers, you name it: everything you’d (ahem) expect to see on New York City streets. Here it was played extremely low key and about 1/3 slower than the original number. Boo! The highlight: a giant overhead mirror so the audience could see the tangled formations taken by the dance troupe, views accessible only by overhead camera in the movies. Here we were able to witness Berkeley’s much celebrated girls’-bodies-as-kaleidoscope esthetic. Sharp! The best line of the show: the one about keeping musicians down in the [orchestra] pit where they belong. Yup! The line that can never be beat: Emphatically: “You’re going out a youngster but you’ve got to come back a star”. That’s show biz! Dead On Point Five @ Atomic Black Maria, the Sweatband @ Burt’s 12/6/03 Its been sometime since D-O.5 has played, well over a year but they were always one of my favorite “heavy” outfits that didn’t fit snugly into any category like punk or hardcore or metal. They still don’t. Frontman Dominic has been around here for years in bands ranging from filthcore Feltch to the grabass Beefcake in Chains to the mighty, mighty Jacobins, the best band in town you never heard of. I must admit that I was underwhelmed tonight at the Atomic and not a little disappointed because the energy seemed lacking; good thing the band redeemed themselves later on [see 12/14]. Some other nondescript heavy rock followed which convinced me to bail. I don’t like the hard stuff much but when I do, its exceptional. And so it was with Black Maria next door at the Tiki who never fail to kick your ass and make you like it. Even on their off nights, they surpass the best set of the best metal band in town--whoever that happens to be; don’t ask me, I have no clue. I’ve taken to calling Black Maria ‘stoner’ or ‘doom’ rock which is I guess the closest label because they sure aren’t your average hardcore punk or wankoff metal combo. I’m lately wondering about their pedigree because I only recently found out frontman Gordy’s: Cracks In the Sidewalk, Jerry’s Kidz, Hobbie Mountain Boys, Black Scrabble, AllYouCanEat and Pepsi Generation. Holy crap! If that’s his lineage alone, how many more bands can be added between the four other guys? No wonder they so good! The preceding Sweatband set was glimmering too, getting all you lazy whiners (wieners?) to hop up and dance or at least stand and sway a little. Never ever forget rocknroll was made to dance to, not some lame intellectual pursuit, so get up and shake your hips. However for all the talk about glam, the Sweatband is actually glammy powerpop. A bit more schmaltzy /folky/ creepy introspective numbers complete with piano (but NOT cheesy keyboards) would go a long way to putting them closer in glam rock territory. Hoboes In Limbo @ Lobo Theater the Mindy Set, Unit 7 Drain, the Sweatband, Romeo Goes to Hell, Karen @ Launchpad Fast Heart Mart @ Burt’s 12/13/03 The old Lobo Theater is finally getting some use instead of just going to hell...literally. As a Campus Christian meeting house. That’s better than a rat-meeting place I guess. Anyway God or whoever sponsored this night of free bluegrass bands. That’s appropriate since traditional bluegrass has solid roots in old-time gospel music, as well as blues and Celtic folk, which makes sense considering who settled the Appalachians (Britons and freed African slaves). I popped in just for Hoboes In Limbo who looked the country-goober part in matching crisp white western-style shirts and straw hats. Of course, old stalwarts like Bill Monroe, the Stanley Brothers and Jim & Jesse had more class in suits and string ties under tasteful Stetsons but, hey. My old buddy Robbyn Crawford was getting down, funking out in a groove with that pretty acoustic bass; her black Chuck Taylor high-tops belied her roots as a crustcore gutter-punk. Martin Stamper provided high lonesome vocals and git-box licks, warming up for the Fast Heart Mart show later tonight, more of which later (although he’s a Virginia boy, I like to think he’s somehow related to the hard-headed Oregon Stamper clan of Ken Kesey’s superb 1964 novel Sometimes A Great Notion--guess I ought to ask him sometime). In Kevin Jones’ banjo picking I hear elements of the standard Scruggs-style (of course) but also some of the later chromatic variations of the 1970s as developed by Alan Munde of the great Country Gazette and furthered by psycho-pickers Tony Trischka and Pete Wernick of Country Cookin’ . This is especially evident on Jones’ number, the inventive Slovak Surprise, surely not trad bluegrass but certainly within the framework it belongs (unlike the over-rated turncoat Bela Fleck who threw bluegrass down the shithouse hole to become a jazz-lite performer, the bastard). Finally, newest Hobo known only as Uncle picks a smokin’ mandolin, filling out the Limbo sound completely. He’s got an interesting Tacoma model in a teardrop shape. Now me, I’m distrustful of any mandos that don’t even bother to copy the shape of the classic Gibson F5 but Uncle's has a trim profile and flatback, essential for bluegrass licks, unlike those old-fashioned potatobug things of the Old World, suitable only for playing Italian Tarantellas and the like. In case you’re wondering if I’d ever get around to it, yes, the band sounded hotshit tonight, added to by the sweet sound of the old Theater, built in the ‘30s to provide good acoustics for both movies and live performers. But its not just that; the Hoboes have improved handfuls since the last (first) time I heard ‘em back in May. A little more work on the harmony vocals and they’ll be aces. Not wishing to insult all the other bluegrass’ers on the bill, I quietly slipped out hoping to catch the polar opposite of quiet acoustic: noise-mongers Karen at the Launchpad. Sadly, I only caught a minute and a half of their last song but I don’t regret not leaving the Lobo earlier. In fact, I hope they pull more bluegrass fests there. But now, it was time to rock with Romeo Goes To Hell. Its no secret that I didn’t much care for this combo last time I heard them. I kept hearing reports of improvement but was sorta hesitant because very little punkrock gets to me anymore. But damn Rex is such a nice guy, I kept telling him I’d go and I just had to finally live up to my promise. Holy fuck! Not quite in Epoxies territory, the Romeos have crept up on that period when punk wasn’t yet bloodless New Wave but still had cojones with a dash of dancepop. The band was a merciless juggernaut tonight and touched on everything from London ’77 through L.A. ’79 to D.C. 1980 with just a hair of indie/emo structures on one tune (guess which was my least favorite? ). A job well done and I hope to see many more. Currently I believe they’re in the studio and as long as their engineer don’t clean stuff up too much, it ought to kick. Next up the Sweatband got my hips shakin’ as usual. In fact there’s always a few boys who especially groove on dancing to the Sweats, that young man Eric for one and some other guy no one seems to know (no one that we know that is) but who is always out there hopping around. Sure, some gals dance too but never it seems as enthusiastically as the guys, quite a switch but good taste is good taste, in whichever sex. Unit 7 Drain jumped into another bash-em-up set, quick & dirty. Actually, everyone had to pull quick sets tonight because of the number of acts on the bill and especially when the Mindy Set jumped ship from the Golden West show next door at the last minute. I almost forgot what is was like to hear a set with both Isaac and Mike present, a red letter day for sure. I can’t wait to see if the Mindies, the Sweats and the Alarm Clocks all get accepted to SXSW in Austin just to see Isaac running in circles like a madman to perform with each group. Its not that I wish the guy any ill will, far from it; I just have a sick sense of humor… Finally, I slid over to Burt’s just in time to hear Fast Heart Mart’s CD release, a copy of which was generously bestowed on me earlier “backstage” at the Lobo after the Hoboes set. Ever heard the term “jump blues”? It refers to a more swinging, hopping version of backcountry blues rather than the moaning, wailing low-down dirty ol’ blues. Well after months of wondering what the heck to call this outfit (writers love to label things), it came to me: jump jam, like swinging, hopping jam music. Fast Heart doesn’t fit exactly into the jam-band category, being I think a bit more inventive and funky but they ain’t hardass rocknroll either. On a fashion-related observation it must be noted that Gabe Bass looked all spiffy and polished; he cleans up nice. the Roxieharts, Dead On Point Five, Rebilt, Rage Against Martin Sheen 12/14/03 @Atomic I’m trying to make an effort to see more shows besides the damn Sweatband, I really am so here’s some groups you don’t normally read about in these biased pages. Rage Against Martin Sheen seems to have toned down the novelty song aspect of their repertoire, thank you very much although at times they bring to mind Ween/Weezer covering the Presidents of the United States. I don’t mean that as bad as it sounds ‘cause I enjoyed this set more than in the past. Maybe a few more sets will bring me around. Rebilt just doesn’t float my cup of tea or whatever, with a sound that reminds me of a heavier Lookout! style but it was the few reggae hints that finally did their set in for me. Hell, I can barely tolerate the Clash ‘cause of the rocksteady beats. The island sound? Forget it; if I’m on an island, I wanna hear the surf crashing while I snooze. If it can be considered a compliment anymore these days, I will say that the band was as tight as a good three-piece suit. Dead On Point Five stepped right up to the plate and pounded like a motherfucker, much to my relief after their somewhat flat set here last week. The group picked up just where they left off over a year ago, dead ahead. Ever since I first heard them (as Mumblegum, then as Watership Down), I can’t get images of natural disasters out of my head during their set. Since the category naturaldisastercore is a bit unwieldy, I’ll just call ‘em thundercore and leave it at that. I’m curious to see in what direction they’ll take their hard heavy jazzy sound, one which doesn’t fit any of your standard metal/grind templates. The strangest thing this night was the first ever Roxieharts (formerly TNA) show minus Amy X-Rated; no, she hasn’t left the band but medical complications forced her to sit the set out. Some of us old TNA-heads were concerned about how it would turn out but none more than Midnight Penny herself, nervous as hell about going on without her long-time partner for the first time in about eight years. The duo began in “high” school on the West Side. Reports indicate R.E.M. and the Dead played heavily into things at the time but maybe all the drugs just confused the issue. Luckily, trash like the Red Aunts and the Demolition Doll Rods caused a turn for the better. Like me, their classmate and also-partner-in-crime Liz “Bless Me Ultima” Anaya knew that Peninah would do a fine job on the solo mike. The ‘Harts rocked because Penny is a more-than-capable singer. Cara had a few problems holding onto her…ummm… sticks tonight and of course we teased her mercilessly about it (what are friends for?). Calm & cool as ever, Melissa stayed the course on her steady bass. But it just wasn’t the same without their comadre file and her wailin’ anti-harmonies. It’s good to know the gals can carry on in an emergency but, Amy Xiola, get well soon, querida! We miss you! the Eyeliners, Black Maria, the Dirty Novels 12/15/03 @ OPM This is the second time I’ve been to OPM because (1) there’s never live music except at this annual event (2) the high cover charge is designed to keep riff-raff like me out on the street in the first place and (3) did I mention there’s no live music? Generally speaking, people who’ll pay the ten bucks to get in the joint dig the velvet-rope scene at the door. My guess is it makes them feel important and that they’re in a real metropolis instead of our little amateur city. Maybe they’ll spot Ben Affleck inside. Whatever. Instead of the usual cover charge, the annual Winter Ball--presented by the distinguished Messrs Andersen and Garcia -- collects toys for, ummm, I guess some needy kids someplace although I’ve often wondered if Joe and Delano ever bust open any of the cooler stuff to play with before shipping the Christmas loot off. Hell, I would. Anyway free food and an extremely loud sound system made for a screaming good time tonight as well as getting to see all the usual suspects in attendance wearing fancy clothes. The bands of course all dressed in their everyday gear which is, like, who cares right? although it would’ve been bitchin’ to see Black Maria rock out in suits & ties. Maybe next year… Theirs was definitely one of the loudest sets of the year. I even ditched to the front room where I still had to speak up to make myself heard; not that I had a damn thing worth-while to say (very few people do sadly). The Eyeliners ended the show and certainly way louder than any poppunk band needs to be. I still enjoy seeing “the girls” on occasion although they’re capable of taking more musical chances but I didn’t let that get in the way of enjoyment tonight. I mean, ‘tis the season an’ all. The esteemed Mr Stardust filled in as DJ and did a killer job with the music he happened to grab on his way out the door after getting the call at the last moment. Of course I would say that, seeing as how there probably aren’t a half-dozen records in his collection that I don’t covet. The middle set by the Dirty Novels was right on top of it, just the aces really, and a fine sendoff for Mr ummm Ernie (I don’t know your last name, man) this being his last show. He gave it all he had, which was nice since some guys just sorta coast when they know it’s the end. The band has a new guy lined up already which makes Mr Snyder y Tovar the sole original Novel. There will be a little pressure there but I think the band is up to it. Mr Gonzales has upped the rock factor with his drum style (lots of fills, yeah!) and that new gal on bass whose name I always forget is keeping the bottom end solid, so we have high hopes for the new line-up. The Dirty Novels aren’t an easy act to follow, not even by themselves but I think it will be a good sequel. Word Salad, Noisear, Bulletrainmafia 12/20/03 @ Launchpad The Annual Anti-Christmas show was packed to the gills as always with your more hell-bent crowd, the kind that all blends into one black mass. Gazing into such a crowd the only other “color” observable is the glint of silver spikes. I caught most of Bulletrain’s set which was as impressive as ever, torching everything in sight. To my taste these guys are clawing their way to the top of the local crusty hardcore heap--not a pretty picture I grant you but no bands of this type cares much about pretty anyway. Noisear rocked tough as they always do but honestly my limited knowledge of the metal-type genres don’t allow me to see if they’re better or worse than anyone else. Let’s just say I respect their hard work and solid musicianship and let it go at that. Next was the reunion of the mighty Word Salad, my intro to hardcore of the ‘burque years ago. Come to think of it, they were my intro to hardcore, period. A multitude of moshing minions turned out to hear these metalcore masters mix up a mess o’ merciless mayhem. Foolishly, I thought I could hang front and center if I just held onto the stage and let the moshers wash over me like breaking waves. No such friggin’ luck. It was squished as could be but I held out for about three songs until some fuckhead pushed himself in front of me, sending my glasses flying into the melee. Being about as blind as Helen Keller, I had to deal with priorities: I dropped my full pint glass right to the floor--or more correctly, it probably spilled all over someone’s legs before shattering into ice & shards underfoot. I squatted, blindly threw out my hands and miraculously grabbed my specs, unscathed. If not for that bit o’ luck I probably would’ve killed myself driving home visionless in the dark. My detractors notwithstanding, there’s a few people who wouldn’t wish that to happen. Ummm, my mom for one… Anyway I barely had the specs in my hands when I was hauled upright by many other hands who figured I had been knocked over by the throng. That’s the thing about moshers: people will basically beat the hell outta ya but once you’re down, they act like goddamn hippies, full of love and believing all men are brothers. To me this is sort of like being a no-good dirty sinner all your life then recanting and confessing on your deathbed to get into heaven. All this aside, however, Word Salad’s first show in years kicked everyone in the head repeatedly, torching everything in their path. I admit I can’t tell one song from another, it all becomes a tangle of thrash but I dug it, for Auld Lang Syne if nothing else. Mixmaster J. Dutch Worthington on bass is the only one I ever really knew much, mostly as a hard-working and dedicated member of the Rebel Radio crew. There was never one static studio location and Dutch was there to tear the whole apparatus down just about every night and toss into the back of my truck for safe-keeping until the next week’s broadcast. But more impressive was/is the guy’s soundman ability: if its amplified music, the man can mix it and mix it well whether he likes it or not in any venue with whatever equipment you throw at him. Impressive. the Dirty Novels, the Sweatband, Los Losers 12/27/03 @ Launchpad There can’t many things more embarrassing than playing to an empty room but I sort of understood the feeling when I found myself the only person watching Los Losers. Its an awkward situation for all involved, especially between songs. You can’t really stand there and not applaud but I think one lone clapper sounds worse than none at all, especially since it would’ve been less than half-hearted on my part. I didn’t hear anything of worth going on musically and the only lyrics I caught was something about choking on your own puke. No thanks. Lucky for me Joego strolled up to listen too. I waited a little then strolled off myself. I didn’t really want to abandon the guy there but I really had little choice. It’s a brutal world. Its nice to hear the Sweatband with a fuller, larger sound system but tonight’s soundman’s mix was pretty uneven which always cuts down the enjoyment factor. Still I know the tunes well enough that it didn’t stop me from dancing. The grand finale was the first Dirty Novels show minus Ernie. For a first appearance with the band, new guitarist Adam did an admirable job. I do miss the dual hollowbody action just ‘cause the sound of those guitars is fuller .Although he seemed to be standing back a little, getting the feel, Adam didn’t necessarily hold back. Some of his work updates the sound a little, from 1965 London to ummm 1966 San Francisco but that’s not as bad as it sounds. Its rather good actually. Of course now as sole frontman, Pauli had to step up to the plate and stay there, which he did pretty damn well 98% of the time. A big change in personnel almost makes a band into a new band but also has the effect of demanding new arrangements which makes everyone rethink any ruts they’ve settled into. Once they’re all comfortable and Paul gets time to write some new stuff, everyone will breathe easier as the entire band learns songs together. Overall I think it will be a good shot in the arm for a band that could have easily gotten into too narrow a groove. Ok enough brainiac shit: I was still inspired to dance and that’s always a good thing in my book (or Novel as the case may be). |
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| LOCAL
RELEASES NM bands, any label |
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| Fast Heart Mart The Movie Theatre [CD 2003] Poop Pissin’ Records www. fastheartmart.com Although a harder drum/bass mix is more than Martin might prefer, it sure helps noise-loving wankers like me enjoy the band a little more. And its actually not too different of a representation of the live set than one might think because drums are hard to mix down live in smaller venues likes Burts and Gabe’s basslines are a high point for me anyway. An eclectic mix of funk groove, raga rock and acousti-jam, the style is not high on my list but the band’s musicianship is strong and their following dance like patchouli fiends. Hoboes In Limbo On the Porch [CD 2003] X-mas demo [CD 2003] www. fastheartmart.com Albuquerque’s newest bluegrass band gets big points for not relying on the same obvious standards as everyone else but throws in some blues-y numbers, a few songs that would qualify more as ‘folk’ if you wanna split hairs and one song by the overlooked and underappreciated Elizabeth Cotten. Particularly inspired on the X-mas disc is Mr Santa, a clever re-working of the Chordettes 1954 chart-topping gooey sweet hit Mr Sandman. Looking back to tradition as inspiration, the Hoboes are steadily improving; in fact their live shows kick the ass of their own recordings. Like rocknroll, there’s nothing like live pickin’ and grinnin’. Peninah Wolpo Life On the Inside [cassette 2002] Besides rocking out with girlpunkz the Roxiehearts, Peninah Walpo [a.k.a. Midnight Penny) can quietly belt out some soulful and intelligent originals as if Janis got all mellow, trading the Southern Comfort for the weed. Lots of it. She’s subtitled this ‘Penny’s hippy folk crap’ which it ain’t but some of the voice reverb can get a little trippy, ma-a-a-n. I like this alot and am still waiting, Peninah dear, for you to do some of this solo stuff onstage, hmmm? Oh and the flipside is some boot tracks of a Roxiehearts practice session as they rehearse and mess around but mostly give each other shit as only they can. As fun as a towel fight in the girls locker room. Or, sadly, as I can only imagine it to be. Abandon All Hope with Frontside [split 7’ vinyl 2002] abandonallhope505 @hotmail.com www.killorbekilled.net/abandonallhope Frontside is a hardcore-type band from ummm someplace; it doesn’t say here and anyway my interest in this platter is our own hardcore heroes Abandon All Hope. I became aware of Abandon because of Eben (Fukrot, Lynida Cain) Travis on drums and, man, can he pound the shit out of those skins. I think he was one of those guys that locked himself in his room with his kit in like ninth grade or something and only emerged for food and hardcore shows. Oh and probably for school too because his mom made him go. There's been periods of time when I couldn't round any corner without running into bassist Roger Pacheco's smiling mug or hear about some shows he's set up or is promoting. That sounds pretty punk to me. Speaking of which, unless it’s the immediacy of a live show, I could never quite grasp just why its punk to have terrible sound values and fucked-up undecipherable vocals. On a recording its plain worthless. So part of what I appreciate most about Abandon (besides Eben's machine gun beats, fills and bottom end) is that you can actually understand the words. Too many crust bands make a big deal out of how political their lyrics are but unless you have the liner notes in front of you, you can't tell whether they're singing about war and peace or Frosted Flakes. ex- LOCAL RELEASES expatriates; any label New Black [holiday mini-CD, 2003] http://newblack.net/ nuevoblack@yahoo.com Christmas jeer! I usually hate holiday music because they're usually stuff you'd loathe hearing any other time of year or maybe you loathe it at Xmas too but you're all drunk and sentimental so you convince yourself you like it. For me there's a few exceptions like the Pretenders' 2000 Miles (1985) or, I blush to admit, The Phil Spector Christmas Album (1965), the latter only because I wanna marry Ronnie Ronette when I grow up. But now I can add New Black's mini-CD to the list, handed to me by Mr Liam Kimball (Fever Hot!, the Ponies) whilst back in town from Chi-town for the horrordays. Packed cutely in a Christmas card with a set of liner notes, I was glad to get the last one he had, even though you can easily download this stuff on their site. Why Santa? (santarchy) is as rousing and heartrending a punk rock xmas song I've ever heard with riot grrrl style vox. XmasVSchanukahX is a haunting toe-tapper itself. The strength of either is that you can blast 'em on your stereo without having holiday dross shoved down your throat. As ex-Albuquerqueno Liam would say "yay!". |
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the Eden Catastrophe October [CD demo, 2003] www. TheEdenCatastrophe.cjb.net contributed by Dee Snarl Wow! This is such an improvement on this Albuquerque band’s previous incarnation, The Sovereign, and their only-okay demo. A lineup change and some fresh blood in the writing process has made the Eden Catastrophe serious contenders. This three-song demo is quite a unique blend of modern hardcore and trad metal. The arrangements are intelligent, and the music is full and thick without being busy. And, no, it’s not jumping on the Shadows Fall and Avenged Sevenfold bandwagon. It never gets very fast at all, and the first (and best) song, Consume. Conceit, reminds me a bit of Sabbath at times, in the guitar (mostly my own bias, I’m sure). These guys tear it up live, too, and are only getting better. I can’t wait to hear what they come up with for a full-length! This is definitely an up-and-coming band in the NMHC scene, and one to watch for sure! |
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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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