Ignoring
Objectivity Since 1998
WIG
WAM
BAM
“Albuquerque
zine of music & nepotism”
WigWam Motel - Holbrook, Arizona
LOCAL
SHOWS
NM venues,
bands from here or there
|
Black
Maria, Annihilation Time, The Answer Lies, Unit 7 Drain, Creepshow, Vertigo
Venus, Leiahdorus, Neon Maniacs, Prima Donna, the Foxx, Dead Meadow, Jennifer
Gentle, Jealous Gods, Minus 7, Gingerbread Patriots, Old Man Shattered, Rage
Against Martin Sheen, End to End, Naked Otis, Ki, Rebuilt, Darlington Horns,
Lousy Robot, Mystic Vision, Wilco, Handsome Family, A Hawk and a Hacksaw,
Rumble Trio, Outrageous Cherry, Acoustic Showcase III @ Burt's
|
Black Maria
4/2/05 @ the American Legion Hall, Holbrook AZ
Road trip!
Photo courtesy of Colonel Aureliano
Dinosaurs, car
crashes, buckets of blood and heaping plates of Mexican food were only
a few of the highlights of this over-nighter to check out Black Maria
on da rez. Despite protests from the city fathers --and mothers too, just
as likely-- this all-ages industrio/metal/doom fest took place at Holbrook’s
American Legion Hall.
You can bet the few older veterans hanging around surely didn’t envision
they were fighting for this. Some of them probably now even wished we’d
lost the war, anything to avert seeing their kids’ kids dressed all in
gothic black and mascara, painted fingernails and stringy hair…
After a few hours drive and a lazy disco nap in the motel it was about
7:30 and we were muy hambriento but figured it best to stop by the hall
and first check the sched. To our surprise, Black Maria was up in about
a half-hour! No time to eat and return but too much time to endure the NIN-like
band that was on stage. Luckily the Colonel (who arrived earlier) came
through with a cool Rolling Rock and gooey peanut butter sandwich in the
parking lot, just enough to make it through Black Maria’s crowd pleasing
set.
They claimed (and were right) to be the only rocknroll
band on the bill, which was a lesson for me. See, I usually think of rocknroll
as only hip-check garage tunes but in this context, the boys were indeed
puro rocknroll. Even the grandmas in attendance (out in rez country, any
event will draw whole families) were saying things like, we don’t understand
that other stuff but this is familiar.
Photo courtesy of Colonel Aureliano
Headline flash: Black Maria Bridges Generation Gap!
Still, the juxtaposition of our favorite doom rockers roaring on stage
in front of the larger-than-life Legion seal wall painting, in front of
the flag -- maybe even some apple pie in there somewhere-- was too delicious
a sight to be believed.
Photo courtesy of Colonel Aureliano
Bassman Brian was a trouper despite being forced by his busted foot
to sit during the set. He sorta reminded me of those old, old blues
guys who always pull up a chair on stage--no time for grandstanding or
jumping around, I gotta play! The Sells brothers had family in attendance.
I spotted a dad, a wife and I’m guessing there was probably a cuz or auntie
of theirs there too. Hell, out there, it’s all family: shizhe’e, shima,
shimayazhi, shideezhi, ch’ikei, alchini--everyone was there. And they all
loved it, even the goth kids who are usually too busy being melancholy to
rock out.
Photo courtesy of Colonel Aureliano
After such a triumphant set, it was difficult to imagine being satisfied
with the remaining industrio-hardcore left on the bill. Too, we were still
hungry and so decided to grab grub and return shortly. But due to the
strict all-ages venue rules (no re-entry, period) we had to choose either
to stay and remain hungry (and pissed off) or leave to eat, never to return
to the Legion Hall. We pleaded our maturity, that we drove hundreds of
miles to see our friends, that we weren’t just going to go do things like
sneak beers in the parking lot (oops--did that already) but the door guy
wasn’t buying it after about five minutes of wangling.
Hell with it. We decided in favor of Mexican plates at our motel’s
restaurant and trying to find more about (shudder) Bucket of Blood Street.
Verdad! an actual road name just down the block that we found a few hours
previous. Suffice to say the explanation wasn’t near as satisfying as hoped,
what with it being a doom fest an’ all but still…
The ride home was-- well, it rocked in a manner of speaking (like being
forced off the road by an old geeze in a motor home) but luckily we (not
the car) made it out in one piece.
That stretch of road between Gallup and Grants being one of the deadliest
in New Mexico Brian pointed out that we were done. That is, that we got
our obligatory accident out of the way and would have safe passage in that
corridor afterwards. That’s cool, just in case the citizenry of Holbrook
every let another event like this slip by them again…
Road trip!
Annihilation Time,
The Answer Lies
4/12/05 @ University House, Las Cruces NM
Driving up to the University House I decided to park around the corner.
Not because I was being my usual shy self but since I was in Cruces a few
days on official biz, I was driving a State of New Mexico car (afterhours
of course but, yep, your tax dollars at work). I didn’t think the partiers
would be thrilled to see some narc about twice everyone’s age pull up in
front of the best punk house in town. The University House is probably the
best place in town to rock the fuck out, the abode of Jason and Andy Answer
Lies.
Speaking of which, The Answer Lies opened this early house show
at about 8 o’clock with an eye-popping punk roar, with dual gruff vocals
(but little of that cookie-monster crud) and simple drum beats but with
plenty of rolls & fills for the time allotted. Hardcore-ish with melodies
lurking, these guys are my favorite of this style I’ve heard in quite some
time. Just as Albuquerque’s Romeo Goes To hell restored my faith in plain
ol’ punk rock, The Answer Lies has rekindled my belief in punkcore. Say
amen somebody.
From SoCal, Annihilation Time jumped up rough n’ ready for a
thunderous set of not hardcore, not rocknroll but maybe uh hardrocknrollcore?
A five piece sounding like all your old Alice Cooper, Motorhead, James Gang
and Thin Lizzy records melted all together in the sun but you go ahead and
play ‘em anyway. Breaking eardrums and mikestands, these guys were enjoyable
even to a non-rawk guy like me.
The U-House hosts show after show of locals and traveling bands with
a mix of charming grace and sweaty sleaze. What more could you want? Oh
how about the freaking Soviettes there with Grabass on July 9th? Me, I’m
gonna try and find some work to do in Cruces that week…
Unit 7 Drain
4/15/05 @ somebody’s house
This was a fucking weird one all around. No, not the band (not any
weirder than normal anyhow) but the whole deal. Nominally a going away
party but in a b-i-i-g house full of a strange combo of indie-hipsters
and meathead mohawk dudes, it seemed like trouble waiting to happen.
On arrival the street was full of cars parked for blocks around, not
a good sign in one of your “better” neighborhoods. The average homeowner
doesn’t take too kindly to drunken hoodlums wandering their Pleasant Valley
Sunday locale. Upon entry, no live music could be heard and in fact inquiries
informed us the band had arrived but disappeared. But wandering further
into the cavernous house we found Unit 7 Drain, midset, in a mirrored room
full of happy dancing people, almost like a second party different than
the rest of the place. As always, I’ve no complaints about the Unit’s lives
show except for this one being over too soon. That done, there was really
no reason to hang around. Things just seemed a little off.
And sure enough, Ella Unit7 reported not one but two or more fights
taking place simultaneously as they tried to load out, not a sight I’m sorry
I missed, wimp that I am.
Creepshow, Vertigo
Venus, Leiahdorus
4/16/05 @ Burt’s
Yay! for shows with three acts who musically have little or nothing
to do with each other. If I wanted to hear the same thing over and over,
I’d have stayed home and listened to Jimmy Eat World, Taking Back Sunday
and Green Day all night. Then I’d shoot myself.
Creepshow are full-on horror-punk with tiny shreds of
metal and harder-edged shrapnel. But my favorites were front-woman Go Go
Destruction’s blues numbers for which her voice is well-suited and shown
to better advantage than the rock stuff...yeah, I got the Creepshow blues…
Vertigo Venus is punk in the manner of being unclassifiable
goofball fun. The duo is like B-52’s Fred Schneider fronting the Voidoids
with a new wave twist while watching Ren & Stimpy cartoons.
I can’t think of any punk epithets for the openers Leiahdorus
but the some of the best of what our local synthpop scene has to offer.
At times sighing and gentle at other times dying and suicidal but all
to a sweet and lush easy dancebeat.
Neon Maniacs,
Prima Donna, the Foxx
3/18/05 @ Burt’s
No excitement to report here.
A way short Foxx set opened the night, after weeks of no gigs,
a lackluster show whose only saving grace was the new material. Better luck
next time.
Next, Neon Maniacs moved me not a bit, sorta ’85 punkish, no
soul, no nuthin’, certainly nuthin’ more worth writing about.
Finally, Prima Donna tried to stir things with what could be
called rock and roll but only if you think Eddie van Halen and David Lee
Roth are rock and roll instead of the Abbott and Costello they really are.
No, the most notable fact was (as my escort pointed out) none of these guys
had tattoos. Now that’s a fashion statement!
The Prima Donnas’ redeeming virtues were the Roland piano and some
wailing sax, two instruments that most rockers unwisely abandoned post-Brit
Invasion. Other wise it was hottieboy cockrock, a cut above Aerosmith
but sorry, that don’t say nothing to me.
Tonight’s show rated an overwhelming “meh”.
Dead Meadow, Jennifer Gentle, Jealous
Gods
4/20/05 @ Launchpad
The nu-psych of Washington DC’s Dead Meadow took a turn for
the dirty riffage tonight, much to my surprise. There’s signposts to that
on their records but I wasn’t expecting the heavy stoner flavor. The new
LP Feathers has just enough brooding darkness but live there was more than
I bargained for. Nonetheless it was a well-done set and much appreciated
by the rockers in the audience including Alan Manhole and Black Bryan Maria
who were seen head banging and tossing devil-signs in every direction while
sticking out the Ozzy tongue.
Italy’s Jennifer Gentle on the other hand was mostly as expected;
trippy wheeeee! carnival-calliope tunes. If they’d been around in the
1960s, they’d for sure had some longass name like Captain Wilfred’s Incredible
Marching Bubblegum Serenader Funhouse Tremolo Machine Ltd. Mostly fun but
a bit too playful for my tastes. I dunno, no one I ever knew back then
got that nutty on drugs.
I think that sort of silliness was a media invention, like H.R. Pufnstuf
: some sort of imagined innocent day-glo fun at a time when people were
actually losing their sanity during bad trips from eating the brown acid.
Our own local psych-heroes Jealous Gods played not to a full
house but a respectable crowd for an opening act and a larger one than their
debut a few weeks ago. They were tighter than before, danceable and the
sound system at the Launchpad rarely hurts anyone.
Alibi Spring Crawl
the Foxx, Minus 7, Gingerbread Patriots,
Old Man Shattered
@ Launchpad
Rage Against Martin
Sheen, End to End
@ Golden West
Naked Otis, the Dirty Novels
@El Rey Theater
KI
@ Atomic
Rebilt, Darlington Horns
@ Burt’s
Lousy Robot, Mystic Vision
@ Buffalo Exchange
4/23/05
So Jamie and I thought we had this all figured out: an early Lousy
Robot set in the afternoon, time for dinner and disco nap
before the Darlington Horns opened the Burt’s portion of the annual Weekly
Alibi Spring Crawl.
Wrong! A supposed 3 o’clock Robot set at Buffalo Exchange (Buffalo
Exchange?!) turned into 4:30 which left us wandering helplessly around
Nob Hill like a pair lost in the desert.
Oh by the way this gig had nothing to do with the Crawl but we did
spot Juliet Legend in her natural habitat. It was purportedly an Earth
Day party (read: sale). I think that Buffalo, uh, stretched the truth a
little. I’m sorry but Reduce, Reuse, Recycle has nothing to do with paying
forty dollars per item in a place that’s supposed to be a hip thrift store.
It sure ain’t thrifty either. Me, I thought used clothes meant polo shirts
emblazoned with some office logo worn once during the company picnic softball
game or that powder blue leisure suit that Uncle Mel died in.
We wander in promptly at three (just like it said--erroneously! --
on the Lousy Robot MySpace page--somebody’s head’s gonna roll over this)
only to find Mystic Vision finishing up their reggae set. I fuckin’ hate
reggae but this half a song was enough to show me that this group actually
has a good sound and appeared well-practiced and tight. Still, it seems
like way too much of a pain in the ass to play reggae because, much like
rockabilly, you have to act and look the part 24-7, complete with all
the required clothes and attendant lifestyle accoutrements (although I
guess it’s a bit cheaper if you’re dread since you don’t need a vintage
ride or to look all suave like them rockabilly dudes do).
So Mystic Vision loads out their eight or ten or whatever people
plus baby (every downass reggae group gotta have a mother with a baby on
her hip as she sings) and still no lousy pop band in sight.
Things were so dire we hit the Flying Rainbow Yuppie Chow café
for lemonade before sinking comfortably into an overstuffed leopard-print
chair back at Buffalo to watch the shoppers. Most amusing were the kids
with their folks: A teenie girl chatting on her cell and mindlessly loading
up her patient dad with piles of clothes, like a human shopping cart. He
was a real trouper, that guy. Not one complaint--although you could just
tell he was a little put out by a few of the skirts she was buying that were
about half the size of a handkerchief. Or then there was the happy mother--trying
her best really-- who held up some perfect little dress for her perfect
little teen daughter who sneered mom into submission with a withering look
that lasted maybe a second. This was U.S. familial cultural anthropology
at its best. So just as I gathered enough info for my thesis, Lousy Robot
finally launched into a nice but disturbingly sober set.
It was pretty amazing how damn good the acoustics were there in front
of the jeans rack. Too bad if you wanted a mens size 34 though, you just
had to wait until the set was done with. I immediately lamented not bringing
a camera as this was like the best Gap commercial you ever saw and well
worth the wait. Since the deal was gigging for clothes, bassist Dandee
picked up a sleeveless argyle sweater which would make its ‘burque rock
debut tonight onstage at El Rey…but I’m getting ahead of the story.
After a quick pizza chowdown, we made it to Burt’s for the very last
of the Darlington Horns set at six PM, really really
disturbingly sober. This because half the band is two ex-Impatients who
were dubbed the “drunkest band alive” by our old buddy Dutch (Word Salad)
Worthington.
From here, it was rough going for awhile. We only made it through a
little of Rebilt. I dunno, to me plain ol’ ya-ya-ya punk rock dates
worse than Guy Lombardo. Without the time and place context, I’m lost. And
context or no, KI next door didn’t do it for me either. I wish these
bands (any bands) the best especially since they’ve both been around for
a while but they’re not my cuppa. Old Man Shattered
Next however I was saved by the singular Gingerbread Patriots
who I’d before always respected but this time finally fell in love with.
Their jingle-jangle morning bowl of Teddy Grahams compositions offer something
new throughout with lyrics, tempos and arrangement changes enough to pique
and hold your interest. Complex and many-sided, its at the same time kid-like
in the way that commercial children’s music never is. This is stuff that
a child could love because its sweet and playful and they’re not being
talked-down to.
Quite jarring then was the buckethead thunder of Minus 7 who
I’m told play like a watered down Static X. Hmm.. I’m not sure which would
be worse, the real thing or these counterfeits? Ugh! My interest chilled
to absolute zero, so we decided to see what’s the haps next door only to
find End To End at the Golden West and Naked Otis at El Rey. It was
pointed out to me that all three of these bands were actually the same band
aging from kids to young adults to old dudes. It sorta reminded me of, like,
A Christmas Carol with the Ghost of Rock Past when you’re full of piss and
vinegar, then the Ghost of Rock Present when complacent middle-age is creeping
up but you delude yourself into thinking you’re still a dangerous steppin’
razor and finally Rock Future when you’re near the deathbed thinking “holy
shit, I suck, better rock out one more time! ”.
We were soon saved by the Dirty Novels who understand both rock
and roll, a two-part harmony most bands these days forget all about. The
big space of El Rey, although a little echoey, did Adam’s leads and the
band good all around. And me too since I just had to get up and dance for
one of the better sets of the night: a three-way between the Robot, the Patriots
and the Novels --and damn if that doesn’t sound kinky as all hell. Dandee’s
new argyle sweater isn’t what you’d really call rock and roll but he wore
it well, in his best Bagger Vance style (Wig Wam Bam is nothing if not
a supporter of couture, you betcha).
So three guys walk into a bar…that’s how it begins with Rage Against
Martin Sheen. The punchlines fly fast & furious leaving you to wonder
what did they just say? before you realize you’ve just heard another sacred
cow being shot in the head. Although I caught only part of the set, I came
to realize that (a) its been years since I’ve seen ‘em which (b) means
that my prejudice against parody bands doesn’t currently hold water. See,
to me, the joke gets old after the first time. The way I figure it, either
these guys have new jokes by now or if not, I’ve forgotten them all. So,
its all new to me! In any case, I better go catch a full set soon.
Finally the Foxx played to a packed house but the sound was
pretty muddy (no one ever gets a decent sound check at these things) and
Isaac’s high E string was painfully out-of-tune enough to make me wince
during critical moments. I considered saying something but the place was
full, time was short and I know their damn songs so well (yes, Juliet I
am pathetic, ok? just like you said) I danced anyway.
Since there were no out-of-town headliners this year and since we just
felt like mostly staying put, we did no real crawling or trawling through
the overcrowded streets (I avoid those people all year round, why would
I want to hob-knob with them now, at their drunkest and most boorish?),
so we didn’t get the full Crawl effect.
That is, until just before the close of the Foxx set, some chowderhead
stumbled up to the stage and kept yelling for Led Zeppelin. This wasn’t
one of our obnoxious friends trying to be a jokester. It is a not uncommon
occurrence the nature of which keeps the Crawl from being truly successful:
this type of partier that events like this draw was dead serious in his
request but had absolutely no idea about the nature of sincere musicians
and why they do what they do. Meatbags like him genuinely think the band
is there to entertain him, that the band must surely know how to play his
request and to whom original music is not exciting because of its unpredictability.
Even the bands that I’ve slagged on here get and deserve my full admiration
for not being mere bar room cover-bands, but individuals with their own
vision of their own music. Whether I agree with their choices of _expression
or not is immaterial---I’m just an opinionated public jackass after all.
Otherwise, I may as well just be shouting along with dude for Zeppelin.
had vaguely peaked my
interest ever since I first saw the name because the band Old Man is one
of my favorite local unknowns. No similarities here, since Old Man Shattered
was plain black-tee rock and I was just not interested.
Wilco, the Handsome Family
4/26/05 @ Kiva Auditorium
The place was packed full of Wilco heads. I wasn’t one of ‘em. Besides
the Uncle Tupelo connection, how these guys ever got labeled as part of
the twangcore scene, I’ll never know. If I hadn’t known I’d have guessed
they were Phish. The Byrds at their most psychedelic were more country
than this outfit.
No, the Handsome Family’s delightful twang macabre was my hands
down winner here.
Them and the company I was keeping at the show made my night all worthwhile.
A Hawk & A Hacksaw, the Rumble
Trio
4/30/05 @ Sol Arts
Okay, no surprise, I’m a fucking Philistine and a Visagoth but I need
some semblance of melody or backbeat. For me, the Rumble Trio’s combination
of two string basses, a tuba, a bassoon, maracas, flute, pvc pipes, bicycle
bell and various rattles, shakers & geegaws did absolute zero. The
whole thing sounded to me like driving on a flat tire.
But the priceless A Hawk and A Hacksaw? Its like an Armenian,
a Basque, a Gypsy, a Yemeni and a Hungarian Jew all met up in some bar,
have a few drinks and decide to pool their musical heritage. Except that
here it took only two people to pull it off. For a few years A Hawk and
A Hacksaw has, I gather, been one-man-band Jeremy Barnes (part of the Neutral
Milk Hotel continuum) and whoever he pulled into the studio madness with
him. These days there’s the addition our own Heather Trost (Foma) on violin,
keyboards and melodica, who was spirited away on a Euro tour soon after
this show. It would be interesting to see the reaction across the pond as
although this music isn’t what you’d call Continental, its origins are certainly
closer, geographically speaking.
I lost count somewhere around ten but with the aid of tape, needle
& thread and an intricate array of co-joined foot pedals Jeremy must’ve
been playing a dozen or more instruments: a few drums, gongs, cymbals,
accordion, bells and some other un-nameable thingamabobs.
All kinds of adjectives get tossed at this duo like charming, delightful
or engaging, none of which are actually off the mark but I prefer accomplished,
inspired and as musically proficient as you can get considering there’s
a guy with a drumstick duct-taped to his hat.
the Foxx, Outrageous
Cherry
@ Launchpad
Acoustic Showcase III
@ Burt’s
5/2/05
Number Three in the Acoustic Showcase series was another success,
my only complaint being that it conflicted with the psych show down the
street. I almost lost my rocknroll cred by hangin’ out with the indie kids…
In what seems to be tradition, Edward was again opening but
this time with Ariel and her cello in what amounted to a an unplugged
Foma set. It was a little taste of what we have to look
forward to now that Heather is off touring in a Hawk and a Hacksaw. Savory!
Next Mr Isaac Bonnell with some just-as-tasty covers of Big
Star and the mostly obscure Red House Painters.
In an even more obscure reference, I heard a tune that sounded like
(but wasn’t) the Gyres’ 80s Britpop Are You Ready? by Mark (Jealous Gods).
He was then joined by the lovely Kerianne for what I think was a
Warlocks cover. They closed with a not perfect but fun cover of the Beatles’
psychedelic I’m Only Sleeping from 1966’s Revolver.
John & Megan Gingerbread played the same cover but
only for a couple of bars. Rockteasers! I found myself singing along to
their next song for a couple of verses before I could remember what it
was -- Madonna’s Open Your Heart from her 1986 True Blue LP, one of the
last records she did before abandoning the material girl for (ugh) the message
woman. It was a brilliant choice of covers. The next great treat was from
Megan whose sleek red and white accordion has the look of a mint condition
jukebox. It was a stunning machine, visually as well as aurally.
In an impromptu turn, Michelle Collins stepped up with her sweet
tunes and sweeter voice, solo since the other Shine Cherries are
off moonlighting as the El Paso Eyepatch supporting Nels Andrews’
Euro tour. She proved to us she don’t need them guys. Beautiful.
Time was short and we just knew that Outrageous Cherry must
be onstage at the Launchpad and so only got to hear one song by Bobby
Unit 7. You’ve heard of Country and Western? This was Country and Mascara.
So after a bit o’ Bobby Twang, me and Miss Jamie railed it on over to the
‘pad and were promptly taken to task by Zed Stardust for missing half the
set of the best psych band in modern times. Outrageous Cherry had
the hooks, the vocals, the charm and the lyrics every band wishes they had.
And oh yeah the two old men in the band made sure there were a couple of
young and cute girls in the band for photo ops but the music spoke for itself.
They’re authentic without being retro-stupid or derivative, just the genuine
article. Their early releases are a bit more psychedelic jammy but the latest
Our Love Will Change the World is a perfect blend of hooks and psych swirl,
and so was this live set. Outstanding.
Finally the Foxx stepped up for a jumpin’ set, due in no small
part to their bassman who was as amped up as I’ve ever seen him. In fact
he even danced (yes danced!) during the Outrageous Cherry set, an outrageous
spectacle in itself…
|
Wig
Wam Bam (by Captain America PO BX 4865 Albq NM 87196 captainamerica1941@hotmail.com)
blah
blah blah may (or not) be found monthly at the Launchpad, mecca Records
& Books, the Silver Board Shop, Natural Sound, Free Radicals clothing
& accessories, Abode furnishings & sundries, Damaged Goods Records,
Burt’s Tiki Lounge, Atomic Cantina, Newsland or blah blah blah or blah
blah blah at blog.myspace.com/wigwambam
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