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Issue # 73 July 2006 thewigwambam.com |
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Ignoring Objectivity Since 1998 WIG WAM BAM “Albuquerque zine of music & nepotism” (stay tuned for lost issue #72) |
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LOCAL SHOWS
NM venues,
bands from here or there
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| Spider and the Webs, The Old Haunts,
the Spunks, GitoGito Hustler, Dirtbombs, Black Lips, Zolar X, The Foxx,
Los Dums, Handsome Family, Lowlights, A Black Lux, Raven Chacon, Spirit Bears,
Alchemical Burn, AGL, Shoulder Voices, 668, I is for Ida, Mindy Set, A Fir-Ju
Well, Mojo Filters, the Foxx, the Dirty Novels, Rod Shot Band, Peninah's (Roxieharts)
graduation party with the Gracchi, the Unemploid, Coke is Better with Bourban,
Rellik |
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| LOCAL
CONTRIBUTOR |
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| Beatlemania
4/22/06 @ Tiguex Park submitted by Obenjyo Spring Crawl - featuring Black Maria, The Gracchi, and The Mindy Set 4/28/06 @ Burt's Tiki Lounge submitted by Obenjyo |
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| LOCAL
SHOWS |
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| Spider and the Webs,
the Old Haunts, the Spunks, GitoGito Hustler 3/20/06 @ Launchpad Wow. I have never been so disappointed in any J-band. In the world of punk, of rock, and of roll, its an axiom that any Japanese band that makes it to our shores is more than worth a look and listen down at the local club. From Shonen Knife to Guitar Wolf, Electric Eel Shock to the King Brothers, the Nippon take on American rock is outstanding, the view from foreign shores magnifying our native music in a way that no one else can. Until tonight. Ouch! GitoGito Hustler are simple girlie poprock. With their matching spangley outfits, they looked like flappers stepping out of a Duesenberg and into a 1926 speakeasy. That was about as exciting as it got, nothing new or ground-breaking. When a band extols you to shout and clap your hands right from the moment they hit the stage, you know there’s trouble. As with respect, excitement must be earned. Gito Gito earned none from me and probably little from anyone else, except for those who had never before seen the standard shiny happy cute-girl pop-punk they served up tonight. The singer’s voice was similar to Japan’s Puffy AmiYumi (best known for the Teen Titans cartoon theme song) but whether its similar to Ami or Yumi, I dunno since its hard to tell them apart. And that’s Gito Gito Hustler’s weakness. They were tolerable or more generously, maybe almost good but nothing that hasn’t been done --and better-- by scores of other such bands from any continent. The Japanese tolerance for feminine cuteness would kill any other ethnicity-- especially us filthy gaijin -- but this band has been watching too many Morning Musume videos. The Spunks likewise disappointed large. It was okay punk rock with emphasis on the rock (not much roll) but no matter who it is, when a frontman starts talking about his dick, my interest drops to less than zero. I have one myself, thank you. Their saving grace was the bass player who ripped out muscular but startling lines, beating the pants off the singer/guitarist (thank god it wasn’t literally; see above). It was a good sign however to see his bass sporting a beat-to-shit look, like it had been put to good use. He was a little too “badass” for my taste though. There’s a line in rock between confident musician and arrogant douchebag. He wasn’t the latter but far past the former. Spider and the Webs were of interest for little more than frontwoman Tobi Vail’s role as one of the founders of Bikini Kill and riot-grrrl. That whole Seattle/northwest music community --for all its triumphs--must be awfully insular. Vail, center stage singing and strumming, was no different from any other hipster Seattle fem who’s ever done the same since 1995. Its hard to build excitement from static two-chord material that lacks nice, melodic changes. It surely originates from a bedroom with lots stuffed animals and “crafty” lunchbox purses, likely as not from straight from the “how to” pages of Bust magazine. When Vail and the drummer switched places, things got a bunch more interesting with talk of Roky Erikson and music to match such as a Sky Saxon cover. But after a couple of numbers, Vail once again fronted the band and the excitement meter fell to ¼, like a sub-par Juliana Hatfield or Mary Lou Lord clone. No I didn’t expect riot-grrrl or post-riot Le Tigre-esque dance beats or anything directly or indirectly related to Vail’s origins…except for quality and originality. On her end, I didn’t find it from Spider and the Webs. Before the Webs though we were treated to by far (very far) the best set of the night with the Old Haunts, also from the Pacific Northwest. Gotta admit, more than a couple of us were apprehensive of the slovenly indie-boy look (could be emo, could be who knows what) but what we got was stripped-down, passionate, hair-in-the-face boogie n’ blues-based rockerroll. Its that style that sounds unplugged but is plugged in (way in) just the same, with vox similar to Flaming Lips controlled hysteria. You could pigeonhole ‘em into the genre made famous by the White Stripes but as a whole, its been done better than Jack and Meg, the Incest Twins, by the likes of Immortal Lee County Killers, the Gossip, Mr Airplane Man and yup, the Old Haunts. There’s a sinner and redemption gothic flavor (not goth), not unlike Colorado’s fine but overlooked 16 Horsepower. With some Richard Hell riffs at a galloping pace, they put the bomp in the rock with standard along-the-scales changes but still inventive & refreshing. The Dirtbombs, the Black Lips 3/23/06 @ Plush Tucson, AZ See photos of this show here Another rompin’ rock n’ roll road trip extravaganza for what’s being hinted at as near the endtimes for the Dirtbombs. We debated whether to catch the ‘bombs in Denver or Tucson. My vote was AZ since it would be warmer and a cozier city, one of our fave towns for a rockn’roadtrip including killer deep bins of rare and unknown used vinyl at Judy’s --formerly PDQ-- on Dodge at Grant and heavenly albondigas, sloppy soft corn tacos and fruit sprinkled with pico chile at Taqueria Pico de Gallo in South Tucson on 6th Ave. Yup, Tucson won out and damn good thing it did, as the Denver gig was almost snowed out during a raging first-of-spring snowstorm. How did we know? Mr Dirtbomb himself told us-- but wait--I’m getting ahead of the tale… Rolling into The Old Pueblo, Miss Jamie called for a quick stopover at the venerable Hotel Congress for a libation before we searched for more economical lodging. We love the Congress but rooms are never less than about seventy bucks per night. So, in the Congress parking lot looking towards the bar patio, she asks, is that Mick Collins? Being blind, almost deaf and (yes) dumb I replied, naw. A few minutes later, sitting out there with a couple of beers and cigs, Jamie says aloud “that’s not Mick Collins, is it?”. Sure enough, it was the man himself. Being the shrinking violet she is, it wasn’t long before the entire band was at our table, drinking wine and Red Stripe, sharing smokes, talking all kinds of shit, such as: * rockn’roll --when the heck is the next Ko & the Knockouts record? Ko..? * comic books --Johnny Gambit #1, reported to feature a blond Mick and first-chair drummer Pat. note: we picked it up a few weeks later and found no Mick, white, black or purple..? * used instruments – Ko getting the “cute girl discount” on a beautiful hollowbody Conqueror model bass at Chicago Music, fabled Tucson shop said to be waist-deep in rare and cool used instruments. * old Blacktops tourdates in NM & AZ --tumbleweeds actually rolled past the band as they wondered where the hell they are. * and finally: what did Kim Fowley really have to do with 1966’s They’re Coming To Take Me Away? Minutes later, Collins excuses himself for a cell phone call. After a short conversation, he comes back and wonders aloud how Kim Fowley got his number. Mind warp! In the midst of all this, I decide it was fate and grab a room for the next couple of nights. The club is in walking distance and, at two beers, I’d already had my usual (lightweight!) beer quota and wanted my room stumbling distance, like, right now. Full of atypical afternoon alcohol, I shoulda picked up on the free popcorn at the bar --from the guy who’s been tending there since 1959! Herded off to soundcheck by their hardworking tour manager, we parted ways with the ‘bombs --and skate-rat show mates the Black Lips--and availed ourselves of the Hotel’s fine Cup Café. Dinner and a couple of hours of bedrest and we’re walking the three or four blocks to Plush. A little late, we missed local openers Beta Sweat (formerly the Sweatband) who we saw here last trip on the Detroit Cobras bill. Four young guys from Georgia, the Black Lips are good time swingin’ rock and roll with three part vox like some old Nuggets style garage band versus a drunken and Preludin-amped Beatles. The drummer was also a singer, just like Moulty of the Barbarians but unlike that Boston stickman, Joe got both hands and used ‘em to good effect. Singing drummers always warm my cold, cold heart. They’re fun and fuzzy--soundwise--but appear to tire of timing and tempo halfway through each number as it trails off into…um..whatever. However, the Lips were a great prelude for our Motor City heroes. The first warm-up note out of Collins’ amp was a piercing howl, cutting deep into our eardrums. Good thing I brought my earplugs. Good thing, yah, since to be gentlemanly, I gave them to my escort . Next trip: two pair! The Dirtbombs grabbed the show by the throat and lifted it ----legs kicking-- off its feet, asphyxiated. They took our breath away with high performance Valvoline rockn’roll. Mick’s guitar slices edge like a Bosch 2400-watt chopsaw in a shower of white hot sparks. No wonder he always wears shades --eye protection! His vocals are rough an’ ready, someplace between the Four Tops’ Levi Stubbs after a day of drinking bathtub gin and Jimi minus the brown acid. Pat leads the double drum assault, pounding the skins as Ben works it right along with him and adds some gravy on those chops. Watching the pair is a thing of beauty, synchronized like an Olympic event and more physically demanding. Double the rolls, double the fills like an overstuffed chile relleno: tasty, satisfying and smothered with hot stuff. Two bassists too, what a bottom end! Troy anchors the motherfucker down --which ain’t easy with Mick at the wheel -- and Ko glories in bassfuzz. I kept hearing some smoking leads but it didn’t add up to what I saw Mr Collins doing. Finally I looked over at Ms. Shih and sure enough, she was working leads out all over her where her G and D strings were…or ought to have been. How the hell..?! To their credit, the band ignored the Yaeger shots that appeared onstage. Was there a generous fratboy in the crowd or something? For the last couple of numbers, pre-encore, Collins pulled some audience girls onstage to shimmy and shake as they wrapped it up. Sure enough, my favorite gal in the crowd was among that number. Yeah if it wasn’t for her, I might’ve merely nodded in the band’s direction at the Congress and let it go at that. This was much more fun. It almost made me feel like I was cool or somethin’ instead of an old Stax curmudgeon who’s tiring of mediocre or even of merely good rock. These days, I want my rocknroll fantastic, and that’s what the ‘bombs delivered. Zolar X, the Foxx, Los Dums 3/29/06 @ Launchpad The Night of the Living Trio’s! Openers Los Dums played to an almost empty room which has gotta be frustrating. Seems to me these guys get a better reception from the all-ages crowd than elsewhere. Down to a trio, they’ve still kept their Los Ramones influence but added un poco indie rock flavoring. But their chuco-punk covers of Mariachi standards remain the most fun. Next was the debut of the Foxx trio, now that Izzy Bonnel has moved on to other rock pastures. It’s a blow to their signature sound since no one plays, writes or sings quite like Isaac who is pure rock n’ pop. But don’t despair since now they’re moving deeper into the territory they were founded on: glam, glam, glam. No, not New York junkie glam like the Dolls nor Brit punter glam ala Slade but tasteful upbeat ballad glam on the Bowie/ Jobriath foundation. Though I sometimes think Ms Legend would prefer being Francoise Hardy in a Château en Suède lifestyle or singing in front of lush arrangements ala Patti Page (but with better material), Juliette’s inner rocker surfaced tonight as she switched forth and back from guitar to keys. Draped under orange cloth, it was hard to tell that they were indeed keyboards until she began to play. Up until that point, it could’ve been a podium for pulling rabbits out of hats or a giving a demo of ever-sharp Ginzu knives. The band said they couldn’t hear jackshit onstage but I’m happy to report there were no problems on the ground. I’d never heard or even heard of Zolar X before. And except for pals Zed Stardust and Wonder Woman, neither had anyone else, but after this, its unbelievable why not. Zolar X played Rodney’s English Disco(!) in Hollywood way before anyone was tuned into this kinda stuff. Tonight’s set was among the top rockin’ live sets I have ever seen. Wearing silver jumpsuits & matching widow’s-peak wigs out of the original Star Trek series, this trio were nothing short of amazing, powerpop glam rockn’roll from start to finish. I’ve never seen anyone this age (a band formed in what? 1972?) rip out such a perfect show. Singer Ygarr Ygarrist‘s got a couple of years on me and his voice was beautiful and smooth, not at all what you’d expect from a decades-later reunion, where the vox is usually the first thing to suffer, and badly. No, he was in key and spot on, which is the why it was puzzling later listening to the newest (reissue) release. A few cuts matched the gig but much reminded of Journey in song structure and voice. Quite the conundrum, but live, it was another story altogether. The small but enthusiastic crowd dance, flailed and grinned like space monkeys. Drummer Eon Flash (the other original member, 2 outta 3) was having gangs of fun and played with the energy of a kid grokking It Came From Outer Space. Bassist Jett Starsystems looked the most serious of the trio but let slip a grin now and then that showed he was enjoying himself as much as we were. I’ve seen many killer rockass shows by people half their age that didn’t even come close to matching the excitement and spark of live Zolar X. Astounding and beautiful. I’m wowed out. the Handsome Family, Lowlights 4/1/06 @ house show See photos of this show here No one really knew this guy Tony who was throwing this bash but it was his birthday and what a present! Besides great music from local outfits, he had the dubious honor of hosting four or five rooms full of strangers/ drunks. There were quite a few people when we arrived but on the way out, it was utter chaos just trying to reach the door. In a hallway, there were sheets draped over some… objects... and as the tide of people moved near, glass was crashing beneath. Whatever was under there was fragile. In a similar way, so was the music of Lowlights or maybe that was just the personal subject matter. Dameon crooned and strummed, Bud played some strange permutations of phase-shifting steel guitar and banjo. I hear tell a Gameboy has been perverted to his evil will comes into play at times but it wasn’t in evidence tonight. Jessica’s fiddle was smooth, melodic but resolute. And local drum legend Noelan sat in the way-back on his stool swilling bourbon if the bottle got close enough. Besides the ex-Scared of Chaka’s original songs (Dameon will forever be known here that way. Sort of like being a local Beatle), covers of bluegrass great Bill Monroe and of the great loose cannons Townes Van Zandt were played. As they passed the liquor between them, Lowlights were a spirited (haha) warm-up to the twisted tweaked twilit tales of the Handsome Family, a foursome for this gig, unlike the last time I caught them (opening for Wilco) when a beat box made Brett & Rennie a trio. Tonight they were joined by brother Daryl and a drummer whose name I didn’t catch but the Sparkses dueled verbally between numbers, like the old Sonny & Cher Show. Brett, however, unlike poor old Sonny, could hold his own. The audience was rapt, the Handsomes reaped applause and a splendid time was had by all. Except poor old Tony, most likely. A Black Lux, Raven Chacon, Spirit Bears, Alchemical Burn, AGL 4/5/06 @ Peace & Justice Center See photos of this show here Another noise and weirdness show full of stuff that doesn’t always satisfy someone like me who’s hung up over melody and hooks but always worth a listen if only to get out of the damn box I’ve built for myself. We caught only a little of AGL’s set but it was solo, as I hadn’t seen him in quite some time, guitarless with varied trippy knobbery and grunting squinks wrenched from little black boxes and assorted pedals. Alchemical Burn was next, also a solo act with his signature squealing duck-and-cover electro madness beats. From Alaska, Spirit Bears were a three piece, serving up howling sanitarium-rock. The singer had a Mary-had-a-little-lamb voice and accompanied himself on guitar or keys. On the floor with her instrument across her lap, the bass player hid behind her black hair. She pulled out reverberating sounds one might expect from deep-sea marine life. Mr Raven Chacon gave us the sweet spectacle tonight of a microphone and firecracker in an old coffee can, a bandit’s ammo belt of eight or ten pedals and knob-boxes strung across his chest and a fully miked burro mask on his face as he delivered the soundtrack of a tortured Pinocchio turned to a donkey but never rescued from the Island of Lost Boys. Lastly, A Black Lux offered some McIntosh rock, with a bank of Notebooks atop keyboards, accompanied by random vocal tracks, some bass, a (soprano?) sax and a little rub-a-dub scratch. Lurking below the din, there seemed to be more “songs” here than the others had presented. In all, it was a nice range of creative material that was good to clear my head but, per my typical yardstick, not much you could dance to. But of course I don’t think dancing was the point here, unless its merely dancing neurons firing randomly, like bursts of audible colors in your brain and ganglia. I is for Ida, the Mindy Set @ RB Winning Shoulder Voices, 668 4/7/06 @ Launchpad Arrived just in time for my first Mindy Set set in many a moon and it felt like I’d come home to the type of music I love best: fine and polished pop. Tonight was the Mindy Trio as their second guitarist was MIA. Although he’ll tell you he doesn’t make the grade, there’s not a thing wrong with Matt’s leads even if they’re not his usual parts. They’re well-placed, tasteful and just where they should be i.e. not all squealy or way up the neck. Somehow he succeeded in echoing and playing off his own work, as if there was indeed another guitar in the mix. As well, his voice is always a comfortable smooth and right on target. And such a gentleman! He offered me a copy of 1998’s s/t UV Transmission CD, still one of my local faves long before I knew Mr Dickens himself. Collector scum that I am I almost took the CD but reason and civility prevailed and I had to admit that I already owned it -- curses on manners! Bassman Joshua is unobtrusive (Musically that is. In real life, well, some things better left unsaid. Ha!) but if you pay attention to the basslines (and if you don’t, why not?!), you’ll find his are more than mere bump-bump-bump as they echo melody while holding the ethereal twirl of the band together. Drummer Jill did better than she thought on the borrowed kit even though she occasionally tried to tap a non-existent ride cymbal now and again. Old habits are hard to break. Its been too long since I said it in these pages: the Mindies are consistently one of the ‘burque’s best and ought to be playing to sold-out houses nationwide. Next, I Is For Ida played their second show to great acclaim (as deserved) and unveiled their latest --All I Know-- that takes its rightful place alongside the already-classic first batch of mildly disturbing fairy-tale compositions. They’re true Gothic without the self-conscious “goth” trappings i.e. no vampires or pasty affectations. If they look a bit pale its only because most musicians see little sunlight as a matter of course. With a nod to Victorian lacings, Ida is like animate waxworks brought to life by a benevolent Vincent Price alchemist. Qunitin’s drumming could be toned down a bit though as the rim pops are louder than need be and out-of-place startling. Sitting in for a few tunes tonight was Unit 7 Drain’s Chris Newman on electric piano which --through fx magick -- sounded at times like a trilling harpsichord in the French court of Louis VX. A great set, always a revelation and beyond belief in beauty. After that how could we resist a last minute Shoulder Voices set downtown? Not two days ago, I inquired of Little Bobby about the next gig and was informed that one in was in the works but nothing definite yet. On my way out of his place of employment I happened to pick up the latest Weekly Alibi and lo! there in black & white was this Shoulder Voices show. The Launchpad strikes again! Good thing it’s a consistently fine venue (almost everyone sounds better there than any place else) since such miscommunication shenanigans stretch everyone’s patience. I’m reminded of the Marx Brothers classic Duck Soup (1936): Ambassador Trentino: “Sir, you try my patience.” President Rufus T. Firefly (Groucho): “I don’t mind if do, you must come over and try mine sometime.” All was well in the end though. I was too late for (speaking of shenanigans) the venerable Sleestaks but got a great surprise in Dead On Dominic’s side band 668, “the neighbor of the beast ”. As I never tire of saying, metal is anathema to my --ahem--delicate and refined taste (especially when AC/DC covers are involved) but anything with Dom at the helm is worth hearing. And hearing again. Its hard-rocknroll backed with solid pick-bass. Dom’s voice is loud and sure, neither cookie-monster gruff or neutered high-pitch metalboy but a pleasing roar. A great set even if my reaction to such is more intellectual than visceral i.e. it don’t make me wanna move my ass. Personnel included half of None of the Above and even a guest vocal from long-time ‘burque punk guy Second Grade Ray. As you may’ve guessed from his involvement, that song had signature “whoa-oh-oh” vox refrains. Ray set up many of the first punk shows I ever saw, and particularly at the long-defunct Pony Bar inside but thankfully apart from the also-defunct Palomino strip club. Shoulder Voices closed out the night with a cacophonic orchestra of madmen and stuffed & bloody bunnies. A six piece with occasional female vox, drums as well as percussion and Korg keys, its disturbing fun, like torturing ants with a magnifying glass in the sun. The Musk on guitar was attired in a checkered robe that made him look like an addled Two-Tone ska prophet. Their bass player moved less than the NY Dolls’ stoneface Arthur “Killer” Kane, no mean feat. Tonight was likely the first time I had ever heard a live cover of the great Michael Nesmith: Listen to the Band (which he recorded both with the Monkees and in his solo outings). A gleeful set of barely-contained madness, the bunny throwing pillow-fight melee finale was pure gravy. Lumpy gravy. A Fir-Ju Well 4/15/06 @ house show See photos of this show here What the heck you --and everyone else-- asks is A Fir-Ju-Well? No big deal, it’s the family name of the Furgiule brothers who formed the band. Alright, that out of the way, let’s move on. This party was generously hosted by someone who ought to have her own cable show, like Anthony Bourdain meets Debbie Harry for tips on cooking and entertaining houseguests with class and style. And plenty booze. From Atlanta, the foursome drove up mid-tour arriving mid-day in the quiet northeast heights ‘hood and proceeded to unload their gear right onto the street. Neighbors peeked from behind picture window draperies wondering just what is going on at that house now?! The Foosball table was moved and the band set up as pets scurried for cover. In a few hours, the house would be full of upwards of eighty or ninety people, the last of whom left at 5 AM, a full six hours after the music had ended. The food was outstanding, the liquor flowed like, um, liquor and the band was ready to crash hours ahead of the house full of drunken hipsters. They were kinda bleary as they hit the road next morning. But the night before, A Fir Ju-Well were spot on and ripped it up for maybe an hour, the four swapping instruments so much that its hard to recall just who did what. Of course I’m sure any band would rather you enjoy their music rather than worry about who what and where. And in fact I did, so much so that I can barely recall any show details except that they gave us a good set of pop-garage with a li’l psych twist and brassy soul. the Mojo Filters, the Foxx, the Dirty Novels 4/22/06 @ Martini Grill See photos of this show here A welcome-to-town bash this night was. Who did we welcome? None other than a fledgling weekly, Local IQ, which promises to bring a bit more, ah, intelligent tone than our Weekly Alibi. A friend in Tucson describes the tone of most standard alt.weeklies as ‘Hey dickhead’ journalism and that’s much the case nationwide. Lest you think I’m casting aspersions on El Alibi, don’t forget you can read my own dickheaded prose there too. In any case, the locals involved in the IQ are mature enough (read: old. Ha! Just kidding..sorta) in aspiration to steer clear of hipsterisms. They include (among others) ex-Alibi-ers Michael Henningsen, Gwyneth Doland and ex-pat Rachel Heisler as well as former Albuquerque Journal weekend music man Mr Kevin Hopper. A decent pedigree with great promise. Let’s wait and see how they do. Go, team! And the team of entertainment tonight was a great line-up of local and imported talent. In the main bar representing for the ‘burque, we had the sophisticated and gallant Foxx, followed by the howling Dirty Novels while the motha-fuckin’ soul garage of L.A.’s fabulous Mojo Filters closed out the live music portion of the show. Immediately thereafter, the Filters’ own Clinton spun tons of funky wax at the other bar --how many bars are there in this damn place anyways? Also tonight we bid a fond farewell to guitarist “Switchblade” Lenny in his final Novels appearance. Why that should be, I dunno except that the Novels line-up changes more than your date making up her mind which outfit to wear at 10:15 on Saturday night. the ROD SHOT BAND 5/13/06 @ Burt’s Tiki Lounge From the ashes of Darlington Horns (R.I.P.) comes the hide-your-daughters Rod Shot Band, a rip n’ roll country-honk outfit consisting of the band namesake on geetar and vox (Horns, Impatients, Backseat Rockers, Expatriates) , Quatro (Q’s Revenge, Sleestaks) on the lap steel, Sleestak “T” taking a break from drums to go for bass, a guy name of Chris on the skins and in my opinion the star of this show Freddie Raygun on electric piano, rolling his magic fingertips across the keys like a cross between Nicky Hopkins, Leon Russell at his best and (Derek and the Dominoes) Bobby Whitlock, rolled into one Dexatrim/Quaalude Kabuki carnival. And yes, that means he was good. Quatro’s steel stylings were a bit lost under the rockyroll to start but soon he turned it up to the acclaim of all. And in a suit and a tie with a new haircut no less, he cleans up nice. In fact, they all began in suit & tie but soon rolled up shirtsleeves to get down to work. The set rocked, it twanged, it was straight up Rod n’ Roll. I’m hoping for more gigs soon from this ensemble. Peninah's Graduation Party 5/19/06 @ Bleeding Eardrum Studios Our local punkin’ Magna Cum Laude laureate --or is that Magna Cum Loud? -- Peninus Walpus celebrated her achievement with a burger-burnin’ kegger, just like all good college students do except that joining her were many friends’ rawk bands squeezed into the Eardrum’ s practice space. Out of the musical mélange, I only saw three, starting with Laura Marrich And Her Gracchi. From outside the room, it sounded like they were playing in your hamper closet but up close and personal (i.e. stuffed like pimentos into the tiny practice room), it was loud and clear and, uh, loud. Originals and choice covers, ripping punk and Muffs-like screamin’, the Gracchi have 82% more fun than other leading b(r)ands. Ms Marrich was decked out in her finery including crash helmet, fake toenails on her pick fingers (don’t ask, it ain’t pretty) and her hand shoved through a toe-less sock. It all made sense in context but nothing you need worry over now except that they rocked it up. Or maybe the killer homegrown songs and choicer-than-choice covers were mere filler between drummer Scared-Of-Jeffrey’s jokes: one-liners and zingers that poured forth like foam from the tapped-out keg. Between hanging out in the parking lot with a bunch of unruly drunks (really, Penny! how does an intellect like yours know all those raucous rowdies?), we missed four or five bands or something like that. The Unemploid tore out some straight-ahead punkrock, nothing you haven’t seen much of before but tight and accented by Bret Gurewitz-like leads -- and no I’m not saying that only because of Brian Unemploid wearing a Bad Religion shirt. Listening to a blistering riff, I kept trying to place the sound but couldn’t quite hit it until I looked up, saw the B.R. logo and visions of Mr Bret in all his glory popped into my tiny little brain. After a few numbers of jet-screamer decibels, my tired old ears had enough and I retreated outdoors to the blacktop once more for beverage and bantering. Soon enough though we all trooped back inside for the newly-revived Coke Is Better With Bourbon. Matured in power if not in attitude, it remained spit-on-the-floor drunkypunk mania. I thought sure it would be leapin’ vocalist Imperious Rexx but no, it was guitarman Mike who pulled a “Cobain” and fell on Josh’s drumkit. Ouch! All that hardware poking yer back has gotta hurt! A loud n’ roll time was had by all, most notably “New Sincerity” Chuck Jurich (Primates, ex Lousy Robot, ex- Spillway, ex-Ponies and ex- about a dozen other bands) who knew all the words from the Coke Is Better days of yore. He managed to rock out harder than anyone present even though he was cross-legged on the floor. This was questionable from a sanitation standpoint alone. But if Better With Bourbon is anything, it certainly ain’t sanitary. By this time, my noisy rock quota had long runneth over so I remained outside for the mega-mordant metal of Rellik. They were reported by my escort as excellent but ya can’t prove it to me since metal and myself go together like pickles and whipped cream. Weary and bleary and still another band to go before Penny and Bleeding Eardrum Michael began their jam sessions, we regretfully slipped out the back way. ConGraduations, Peninah! |
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| Beatlemania
4/22/06 @ Tiguex Park submitted by Obenjyo Now, I generally for the last ten years have never had weekends off cause of being in the sushi bidness. But because of an act of God causing a co-worker to quit, a humanoid aquatic mammal in need of work who works as an electrician during the week to be hired, and the lord showing me the way of the dishwasher, I've been enjoying this new schedule. I got up, went and got ice coffee, went to Burning Paradise and got Blazing Saddles and paid a visit to Que? recording studio. Now fully caffeinated I biked over to Old Town and caught the Spanish Modernist exhibit (Picasso to Plensa) featuring Picasso, Dali, Miro. Impressive for the Duke City. Got out and ran to Little Anita's carry out (I never eat inside), put 6 tacos out of their misery and a Jarritos. Biked back to Tigeux Park and caught Beatlemania for the Albuquerque tricentennial. There was a lot of people, mostly kids and parents. Everyone was in good spirits, dancing and cheering for a band that looked more like the Rutles than the Beatles. 'Paul' looked a lot like Eric Idle, and 'John' was wearing beatle boots but with a military jacket and had hair like Barbra Streisand on a bad hair day. So he looked like Barbra trying to look like John trying to look like Mick Jagger on Ed Sullivan or something. They had a big screen TV projecting themselves which added to the Rutle-ness but they had the songs down. Down to the particular sounds to those songs and their Liverpudlian accents. I caught Revolution, and Birthday which was dedicated to the town. Everyone loved it. Then they left the stage and came back for an encore of Hey Jude. I had at this point realized my tire was flat and headed for 7-11 with Hey Jude fading out in the background. I got around a corner and saw a elderly retarded lady caterwauling along with Beatlemania. A beautiful day it was. Spring Crawl 4/28/06 @ Burt's Tiki Lounge submitted by Obenjyo I don't go to the crawls cause it's kinda like the state fair (I'd rather go to the fair). I enjoy seeing the masses of people in the streets but I want to get out of there as soon as possible. I was watching Burning Paradise Video for Curly while he was fighting in Santa Fe and then I get the call that my services are needed. So ran home to get ready and had to bike downtown. It's downhill the whole way but the weight of the cd's is throwing of my balance and it felt like I was going to eat it. Got to Burt's in one piece, bypassed the line and Black Maria had just got on. They're really good and kickin' ass and having fun. I think they could be bigger if they got out of the state to tour. Since so many hesher acts play here I wonder why aren't they playing the bigger shows? Anyway here's to them, especially to Gordy for being one of the original duke city scenesters. So I relieved dj EVE, she'd been there for four hours already. I played some Stooges, Cobra Killer, Electrocute, Bowie, and Le Tigre. The place is filled with random people, even for Burt's. Most unfamiliar faces and not many people that I thought would show for the particular genres, just randomness. The Gracchi come on and here we got kinda like the silver age Duke City scenesters. At this point punk rock is well ...punk rock to me. In a way it has won, everyone has a general idea of what it is. It has survived three decades, it's aesthetics have reached the mainstream but, I think that it's spirit has been killed. Everyone knows Blink 182 but, what about the Damned? When everyone tried to outdo the Ramones it painted itself in a corner. So I guess it's almost like our modern folk tradition, its not avant garde anymore, it's familiar. It's not dangerous or fierce as I remember. I think The Gracchi are good and they definitely surprised me with Love's 7 and 7 is. I mean that was awesome to hear. Everyone seemed to like them and I'd rather see them more than anything that they trying to pass off as punk these days on MTV. I followed with Buzzcocks, Stereo Total, T-Rex, and some funk. I got a kick outta watchin Jeff mouth the words to I live off you by X-Ray Spex while breakin' down his drums. Later he will thank dj EVE for my set, maybe I deserve it. Finally the Mindy Set arrive, every time I see them they seem slightly different than the previous show. This show they seemed to be playing with a bit more guts. Perfect, now all they have to do is change their name, simply take out the Y of Mindy and that would improve it. Would they be considered Bronze Age hipsters? So far so good 3 for 3. The beauty of dj-ing these things is that people aren't accustomed to dance for bands so they are still in the "Mind Set". So I get to play whatever and I'm playin’ Can, Jimmy Castor Bunch, MC5, Stereolab, Ramones, X, Public Enemy, The Coasters, and the Black Arabs' disco version of "Anarchy in the UK ". Fuck "the 80's "!?! When the Mindy Set set ended everyone split (?) so I ended the night with " In the mood " by Henhouse 5 plus 2 (look it up ). |
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Wig Wam Bam (by Captain America PO BX 4865
Albq NM 87196 captainamerica1941@hotmail.com)
is, after eight years and over 500 pages, a wee tired
of smoky bars and loud drunks (myself included) but issues still may be found
whenever I damn well please at the Launchpad, mecca Records & Books, the
Silver Board Shop, Natural Sound, Free Radicals clothing & accessories,
Abode furnishings and sundries, Burt's Tiki Lounge, Atomic Cantina and Newsland,
but lately, mostly just sitting on the couch. |
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Wig Wam Bam is written by Captain America |
po box 4865 | albuquerque, nm 87196 |
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