Issue # 74 August 2006 thewigwambam.com
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Ignoring Objectivity Since 1998 WIG WAM BAM “Albuquerque zine of music & nepotism”
LOCAL SHOWS NM venues, bands from here or there
500, Acoustic Showcase, Alarm Clocks, Alchemical Burn, Bang! Bang!, Buzzcocks, Demolition Doll Rods, Demons, The Dirty Novels, Fast Heart Mart, Fishboy, Forgetter, the Foxx, Freddie K Baker, Fulcrum, The Giranimals, Inner Parlors (2x), Jason & The Argonauts, Keith Drummond, Lousy Robot, Millard Fillmore, Mindy Set, Rivet Gang, Rod Shot Band, Romeo Goes To Hell, Roxieharts, SuperGiant (2x), The Trampolines, Ya Ya Boom Project.
LOCAL SHOWS
Demolition Doll Rods, Roxieharts, Dirty Novels 5/22/06 @ Burt's Tiki Lounge The Roxiehearts opened with their signature chick snarl n’roll attended by screaming fans tossing panties and jockstraps all over the stage but they didn’t let that deter them from getting down to business. Dirty business. But sweet and cuddly like a baby doll packing a meataxe. Red Bull Cara on drums was bobbing around even more than usual. Are energy drinks the new coke? The Dirty Novels held their own entourage rapt and shaking their groove packages. Speaking of which, Switchblade Dandee has been working his own mojo in increased doses these days. I heard no complaints from either side of the stage. And despite the goodness of the older material, their new stuff is always quite welcome. Speaking of new stuff, while not all that recent with the band, Brian (late of Love Overdose) held up his guitar end just fine. The Demolition Doll Rods… well, they were the Demolition Doll Rods, no more no less. I suppose its too much to expect more than their trademark hip-shake stripper trash rockn’roll but I did, and saw nothing I haven’t seen them do a handful of times already over the past ten years. Still, any outfit with Danny Doll Rod is worth a look. No complaints about new drummer Babydoll Tia but its not the same without Christine La Thump. Not bad or anything, just different. That was the only fresh thing happening here. Margaret too delivers her too-many-cigarettes-and-booze blues-type vocals but to no new effect. I’d like to see what else ex-Gories Danny has to offer because we know he’s got it in him. Rivet Gang, Keith Drummond, Rivet Gang 5/26/06 @ the Albuquerque Press Club See photos of this show here Nope no typo but show openers and reprise closers were the same, Rivet Gang. Composed of ex-Ant Farmers, ex- Wingnuts (raise your hands, all three of you who recall ‘em both), the Rivets twang it up with solid two-part harmonies, geetar, mandolin and banjo. Nice stuff although I, being a bit old-fashioned, prefer my string bands to look the part. Not necessarily the old Bill Monroe strict dress code of Stetsons and string ties but its disconcerting to see bluegrass played by guys who look like they just came from the beach. But with the quality of music that good -- bluegrass & folk standards without toothless cornpone interpretations -- what’s a pair of baggy shorts between friends? Coming out of his retirement for his long-awaited CD release of smooth country and raw moonshine shit-kickers (“rock and roll sucks”), Keith Drummond led a nice ensemble of amped Old & In the Way style, like Peter Rowan with a wicked hangover. The band played steel, electric guitar, bowed bass and a solid-body electric mandolin the way it ought to be, with eight strings instead of the prevalent four strings. Whoever had the idea to cut the strings in half for electric mando ought to flogged with those strings. Its like playing a twelve-string guitar with six. I’ll always prefer the old reliable Gibson Master F5 but this wasn’t bad at all. Keith’s originals are well-written and snarky-ly performed and covers well-chosen: one of Leonard Cohen’s masterworks Bird On A Wire, a favorite cover of many musicians but not all that well known. Ray Wylie Hubbard’s Up Against the Wall Redneck Mother made famous by Jerry Jeff Walker. And uh how the hell did Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs’ 1965 Wooly Bully get in here? No matter. It was a fine show all around and another notch in the Press Club’s belt, hosting good honest twangcore as they are wont to do. 500, SuperGiant 3/26/06 @ Launchpad See photos of this show here Grinding stud riffage, power-packed bass, crack-of-doom drums and gut-feel vox? Not the type of jams you’d expect your humble (ha!) narrator to enjoy. And you’d be right, I don’t. But I do know solid musicianship when I hear it and even though Supergiant doesn’t float my boat (it sorta sinks it, to be honest) I can acknowledge what’s there, enjoy it or no. The local heavy heshers and head-bangers are in agreement that this is one of their fav new outfits. To me, it sounds like a swirlier Soundgarden. Too, the 500 doesn’t make me hesh out or anything either but maybe I’m a bit more used to them because of their previous incarnation as Mr Spectacular in direct lineage from Fatso. Great severe stuff but you’ll rarely find it on my own player although they got their own rock-stud action going on all up and down the street. And I’ve been known to cross that street just to see these guys in action. Bang! Bang!, Romeo Goes To Hell, the Alarm Clocks 6/2/06 @ Atomic Cantina Like Spider-Man, I arrived just in time to see some of Romeo Goes To Hell and the punk pop n’roll they’re known for complete with Men At Work’s Who Can It Be Now, a departure choice of cover if not in execution. It was quite the occasion tonight as bassist/vox Levi Eleven was supporting his own roomie -- who can it be now but none other than ex-‘burqueno ex-Fever Hot!, none other than Mr Jack Flash of Chicago’s Bang!Bang! who are getting good ink all over the music press. And with good reason. Lots of crunched-out hyped-up sex beat rock tearing out in every direction. And I even found what I was looking for: melody --- and well-done melody at that for a trio where it can easily be drowned under the driving thump. Fine, fine rockn’roll with just enough angular departures to keep it fresh. Always figure out the angles if ya wanna get anywhere. But Jack, my man, what’s up with your bands and all the !!’s? Well, okay, South of No North was short of punctuation but still… Being old home week and hugs flying in every direction, next was the reunion of reunions, our own Alarm Clocks long on hiatus after Andrea Merkx ditched us for Brooklyn, barely dropping a postcard anymore or showing up for Thanksgiving dinner. But your artwork and work in Love Loves makes up for it, dear. Led by she and Isaac Bonnel, Zed Stardust took bass duties -- dusting off an old pair of shades from his Phase days but sadly, no feather boa -- and Ed Foma took up the drum stool, a familiar place for him although we don’t get a chance to see him there all that much since he traded it for guitar years back. This was true Alarm Clocks fashion, having new members. Izzy and Dre Dre always had to pull a new group together each gig when they got around to it since they lived in separate cities but kept a band here. Jet set! A great mix of old and new, it was a too-short set (they did jump in on the bill at the last minute though) of dance-o-teria hip swivel pop. They closed with standby Petrol Enginez, a fun stop-and-start B-52’s type ditty but alas I wanted my favorite the slow burning romantic Need You Now. But as this was the first Clocks’ show here in many and many a moon, I wasn’t about to complain. But who the heck was that Londoner bloke obsessed with keeping the cords on stage straight while getting all in the way of the people he was trying to protect from electrical mayhem ? He wasn’t part of the Atomic crew. Soundman Bleu tried valiantly to make him cease his un-ending mission to no avail. Usually in the wrong place at the wrong time, he finally aroused some real ire when Andrea stepped back, tripped and fell right on top of the guy. From our vantage it was a point of hilarity but must’ve been quite annoying on stage. Those cords were no threat to anyone, unlike the Alarm Clocks’ killer hook-laden chords. Acoustic Showcase 6/14/06 @ Brickyard Pizza Another satisfying acoustic show from local indie rockers slumming in a college sports bar. I can’t see how its very satisfying however for the management though as this flavor of music doesn’t exactly inspire hearty chugalugs and shots of Yaeger. A few regulars looked a little miffed that their joint had been taken over by -- who are these people? hippies? Naw, no hippies but musicians who prove their broad range of taste and maturity. Not to worry about the maturity bit though ‘cause they’ll be back to their old drunken rockn’roller scene in another day or two. Opener Justin played a few charming strummers in a Mary Lou Lord style and presentation, followed by Little Bobby (Shoulder Voices, Unit 7 Drain) covering an old U7D song but, gracefully, one from the repertoire before he joined the band. I was eagerly awaiting Billy Bellmont’s set (the Bellmont, Weapons of Mass Destruction). Why this man hasn’t yet recorded a solo CD is beyond me. Soulful vocals, intelligent changes and striking originals result in a sweeping away of the other acts in the overall. Mark and Kerianne (Mei Long, the Booty Green) took the spotlight as an acoustic guitar/ keys duo with some sweet vocal duets. Mark’s gentle pysch folk and Keri’s classical keyboard counterpoint are a delight. Next, Nate (Oktober People) treated us to a Neil Young selection, the title track of 1972’s Harvest as well as original uptempo numbers with similar romantic ambience. Then Isaac (Foma) presented his brilliant work with a John Fogarty-Alex Chilton savor as finger-picked by Mississippi John Hurt accompanying Cat Stevens. He’s taken the Beach Boy’s 1965 Help Me Rhonda and made it his own, turning it into a heartbreaker rather than a doo-wop derivative. The Bowie cover was a bonus. Ensuring the Unit 7 presence was complete, Harry and Ella (U7D, I Is For Ida) successfully pulled off their Welch and Rawlings routine complete with mandolin. This was evident even previous to covering Gillian’s Not Afraid To Die. Simon & Garfunkel were also name-checked with The Boxer, the surprise top ten single off of 1972’s Bridge Over Troubled Water LP. Gorgeous. Ed (Foma) wound things down with some of his lull-a-baby tender compositions in sort of a farewell as he’s the latest in a string of local departures. In a somewhat jarring contrast, a guy whose name escaped me (I met him a couple of weeks later; tell me who you are if you read this, man) jumped up with radio-friendly upbeat songs you may expect to hear on Satan Fe’s KBAC-FM. Once again, a nice evening. Inner Parlors 6/22/06 @ the Old Town Gazebo See photos of this show here Although the Old Town Gazebo occasionally hosts music like mariachis, string quartets and Up With People, this may be the first wino rock band to mount the pergola and drive away tourists of all ages. Its rock n’ rowdy with a taste of the “High Desert Surf Sound” ala Boston’s Cadillac Hitmen. Not many people realize that there’s burials beneath the plaza cottonwoods, the iron benches and the rows upon rows of free weeklies, Albuquerque home listings and slick full color jewelry huckster pamphlets. You can bet the Pueblo fighters, the Spanish men-at-arms and the pobladores lying beneath were grumbling in their shrouds. Me, I had no complaints. Unlike a local merchant. Roxieharts, Inner Parlors, the Dirty Novels, Demonsl 7/08/06 @ Burt's Tiki Lounge See photos of this show here The Demons were the surprise of the night. Knowing their Icky & the Yucks pedigree had me approach with trepidation. The Yucks have long been a crowd favorite but their “funny” lyrics combined with a heavy punk roar has never done anything for my uh delicate and refined tastes (or is that wimpy?). The Demons’ too were hard-rockin’ and punk but leaned toward the rock n’ roll, by which I mean melody was lurking about. True, it was mostly bludgeoned about the head and sent cowering to the corner but their choice of covers was superb. This is to me always a mark of good rock n’ roll, from the likes of Dave Clark Five through Johnny Thunders (and of course our own Gracchi). Speaking of Johnny, tonight they offered Chinese Rocks, written -- and re-written--by Dee Dee Ramone and the crack team of Thunders and Jerry Noelan. In years to come, I think it will be recognized as a standard of rock n’ roll/pop, like Sinatra or Ray Charles covering McCartney’s Yesterday. And I can’t tell you how many bands, famous or obscure, I’ve heard pull out the Stooges’ No Fun. But the key cover tonight by sheer originality in choice and good taste was Roger Miller’s country hit (when country was good and really from the country) Dang Me, a 1964 Grammy-winner. Though my own prejudice against most hardfast music keeps me away from dozens of what may be worthy shows --if you like that sort of thing--there’s no doubt I’ll make a point to catch the Demons again. Good show, chaps! Nasty sweet like a barside coke with a floating ciggie butt, the Roxiehearts squalled lots of their stand-by’s but also a nice compliment of great new stuff that got all us up front hopping around. We’re still waiting for more than that measly privately distro-ed 4 song EP. What do you say, girls...? Speaking of hopping, closing the night, the garage-o-rama Dirty Novels got the crowd dancing as they always do and as they’re sure to do on their eastern tour this set kicked off. New outfit the Inner Parlors are nothing but fun, from Jeffrey’s unbridled laughing smile while sliding in some of the most beautiful leads as always and Ben’s jokes that seem to fly over the heads of most everyone, maybe even himself at times. Although we’re saddened beyond grief to see the demise of the Darlington Horns, we’re lucky to have the Inner Parlors --and the Rod Shot Band --rise from the ruins. Freddie Kekaulike Baker some night in June 2006 @ Townhouse Lounge Despite being glommed onto by hipster kids who go for Polynesian lounge music as a lark to prove their coolness, eighty-five year old Freddie K Baker has been crooning and mooning over moonlit shores of the 50th state before your parents were born. On the mainland since 1949, he’s been a lifeguard, a movie extra and leader of a touring band, post-World War II when the demand for island music was real and not retro-cool stupidity. There’s a few people around these parts though who take it seriously (looking your way here, Erik) and I’ve long thought I ought to check Freddie out but alas, I managed to miss every one of Baker’s 1000s of performances at the Polynesian Lounge ensconced in the now-defunct New Chinatown restaurant for decades. Now, I’ve finally heard the legend, not by design but by wonderful chance as I escorted my date to the Townhouse Lounge on Central when we suddenly found ourselves in the mood for a thick steak. While being seated, we were delighted to see Freddie flash us that big and easy smile from behind his tiny cove of keyboards and sun surf & sand backdrop, not missing a beat in his performance. The Town House does steak right and the rest isn’t bad either but don’t go for the sides: meat is the message. The ambience is old-school quilted leatherette booths and as many tables as the place will comfortably hold. The interior is a bit brighter than I recall, quelling the rumors of backroom Greek Mafia meetings over beef and Uzo but you could shoot a 1950s movie inside with little redecorating. Again, not retro but just the way the place has always been. The same can be said of Baker who fits the place to a T, although it’d be nice if they could afford him more room but after the New Chinatown closed, this was and is the best bet. Charming, personable and a thoroughly professional showman, the set we heard while enjoying our meal was just as juicy and tender as my Prime Rib. I was delighted when Baker played My Little Grass Shack in Kealakekua, Hawaii because I’d recently seen it featured in one of my childhood perpetual rerun favorites: Our Gang (the Little Rascals to you) in Mike Fright from 1934, the year after the song was written.*  We heard many lounge favorites played straight and winningly by the utterly gracious Mr Baker. From appetizer to complimentary after-dinner brandy, the meal was even more enjoyable for the accompaniment. Much as I love rockn’ roll, it just doesn’t aid digestion but everything tonight went down smoothly. * If you don’t recall this episode or if you’re too young to appreciate the genius of this long-running comedy series (1922 -1944), check it out. Mike Fright features the Gang as the amazing (really!) International Silver String Submarine Band, a good thirty years before Gram Parsons formed the International Submarine Band. Avoid at all costs the recent “Little Rascals” movie. Everyone associated with that fiasco ought to be flogged with old strips of deteriorating and highly flammable nitrate film stock. Jason & the Argonauts, SuperGiant, the Trampolines, Lousy Robot, Fast Heart Mart 7/7/06 @ Launch Pad See photos of this show here Its always interesting when one guy gets to hand-pick the evening’s line-up, like Beto’s annual birthday bash, or graduation shows or if I can toot my own horn (like I don’t enough already) the Wig Wam Bam 50th issue show that Zac and Rocky bullied me into, the bastards! Tonight was long-time local stalwart Jason Daniello’s pick since it was his farewell show to the ‘burque burg. Opening, Fast Heart Mart jumped into their giddy-up tempo (or is that giddy uptempo?) raga-folk that, lyrically, could also fit into the early 60s Protest Song genre. As a bonus, his co-workers who’d never heard Mart before (and likely none of the bands on the bill) were present and accounted for during his I-hate-my-job number. A great though under-attended set. Next were local masters of the pop universe --and I don’t say that off the cuff-- Lousy Robot. They commandeered the Launchpad stage like freakin’ Gigantor the Space Age Robot. Through the club’s superior sound system, Lousy Robot were truly power pop in any sense of the term. I will never again refer to Jack (keys) or Michael (drums) as the “new guys”. There’s nothing like witnessing non-original members grow into the act and fit like a fine pair of Italian shoes, both comfortable and damn snappy. Its always the new material where its most evident since the entire team took part since day one. Or maybe day five or something since I have in my prized possession a copy of Jim’s acoustic Robot demos, as well as the unreleased as of this writing new CD. Live or digital, Lousy Robot is superb and heart-rending beautiful. From Colorado, the Trampolines were slooow in setting up. Although that happens all the time, it tends to eat into following acts’ stage time and when there’s five bands, the ripple effect can be large. With lovely three-part harmonies, the Tramps were way toward the low-key side of things like Toad the Wet Sprocket and the Gin Blossoms playing literally back-to-back onstage. Well done but lacking the oomph I was after. The Ball and Chain Social Distortion cover was a head-scratcher. Next Supergiant’s boogie funk stoner rock (no roll here) didn’t hold my attention not because of any lack of proficiency but just not to my tastes. But its always fun to see gentle Jason cock-rocking as he did joining them for a few numbers. I for one was glad to see Daniello’s farewell show as Jason and the Argonauts rather than the quieter Jason Daniello Band outfit. JD was riffin’ the classical guitar both with band and solo breaks supported heavily by rock-and-flex Ryan Martino who it appears can do anything both in front of and behind the music. Jason’s peerless voice, almost scary in its precision live or recorded, held rapt his devoted coterie of Daniello Heads, the ones my escort called the “the coffee shop crowd”.  But as with any mixed-bag show, the crowd rotates noticeably depending who’s performing, keeping to their own comfortable musical sphere. To me, ensuring you’re only comfortable in music is anathema to creativity and discovery, from within the crowd or on stage. I for one have never advanced anywhere personally or professionally until I was in well over my head. Daniello closed with Sabbath, declaring his wide-ranging tastes and talents. If there’s a musician or band that moves and inspires, you’d do well to listen to their favorites as well as their direct influences not for any academic rock critic bullshit but letting in bathe you in diversity whether you soak it up or let it run off. You’ll come out the better for it. the Giranimals, Fishboy 7/12/06 @ the Old Town Gazebo See photos of this show here No offense to the Inner Parlors who rocked the turistas at the Old Town plaza a few weeks ago, the Giranimals are better suited to the gazebo crowd. Like, we walked up to the band already in full effect with their signature Lovin’ Spoonful cover, You Didn’t Have To Be So Nice. Neither did the Giranimals. But they were anyway. As a bonus, we got to pick up the new CD before the official release show. With Freddie Raygun at the soundboard and Little Kiss James (thank you, James!) masterminding the series, it was a terrific set with little kids rampant. Children make me happy like no other beings on the planet. Speaking of which , it was great to see the latest Giranimals family member little Avery in the lovin’ arms of his grand-parents along with lots of other members of the Crandall clan. We’ll forgive Marty for not attending since he lives in the Pacific northwest with his Shins-mates, soaking up indie-pop adoration. Maury’s friends from Denton, TX Fishboy jumped onto the bill last-minute, a show of gentlemanly welcome from all involved in setting up these gigs. Although a bit more crunchy than I’d think the gazebo crowd expected, Fishboy delighted the kiddies with catchy hook pop citing Christmas trees and baa baa black sheep. Complete with trumpet, megaphone, French horn and keyboards as well as bass, drums and guitar, Fishboy vocals were like Freddie & the Dreamers vs Wayne Coyne at his most over-the-top. Forgetter, The Foxx, the Mindy Set 7/15/06 @ Burt's Tiki Lounge See photos of this show here The Rod Shot Band 7/15/06 @ Atomic Cantina See photos of this show here First up at Burt’s, locals Forgettor offered Radiohead-ish two part harmony Rickenbacker grungepop fuzz. Not my cuppa but competent and together. Following them, no longer a trio, The Foxx stepped up with romp and stomp glam (as well as Juliette Legend’s operatic pop) with newest member, Alan Harrsion, late of our own short-lived lamented Jackie O. Fanclub and Houston’s the Mirrors. Foxx material is less hooky than before their line-up change although never less than worthy and Alan’s chunka-chunka guitar filled their sound to the brim. Stepping next door, I caught the last half of the terrific Mindy Set, which according to Mindy Matt was the stronger portion of the set. Strong and full-bodied, the Mindies are like a satisfying cup of coffee-- just plain ol’ good coffee without the latte _mocha garbage – and enough to wake you up so you leave in a better mood than before but sans jangled nerves. Next door, I managed to catch the Rod Shot Band’s G-C-D call and response roll n’ rock while Freddie Raygun sprinkled the crowd with Roland keyboard stardust. Fred deserves his own star on our local walk of fame, that is, if we ever get one. Meanwhile Rod and the boys delivered fuck-you-hipsters saloon-gunfight rockyroll. That should be no surprise as Mr Shot’s birth name is the same as noted outlaw Butch Cassidy’s little-known real name (Google if you need to know). Lead shot is flying, blue smoke splashes over the yellow kerosene lamplight and wounded scruffy cowpokes fall off balconies to crash onto poker tables, sending bottles of Red Eye whiskey crashing to the sawdust floor. Leggy show-gals take cover below the stairs. And that’s only a couple of songs into the set. Millard Fillmore, Ya Ya Boom Project, Alchemical Burn, Fulcrum 7/18/06 @ EVOC Gallery See photos of this show here In the shadow (across the street) of underground all-ages showspace Insurgo (R.I.P.), EVOC Gallery hosted its first rock show (although I hear there’s been bands there within art opening events). A clean and pretty space; we’ll see how long that lasts if they continue letting noisy rockers into their space. As a backdrop, we saw a projected kaleidoscopic PowerPoint and best of all, Peter Gillespie’s real-time long-take (no lazy loops!) NM State Fair footage. Fascinating and beautiful. The new-to-me Fulcrum opened with jazzy piano, smooth vocals, bass and drums. My highlight: the couple of tunes where the keys (through the miracle of digital technology) sounded like the vibraphone. Shades of Lionel Hampton! Lots of nice flourishes without jazz noodling. Next for a complete change of pace, one-man show Alchemical Burn took us like deep-sea divers into a strange slow-motion ocean floor excursion, veering in out of barracuda schools morphing to depth charges crippling an enemy U-boat. The crew in chaos, sparks and smoke rampant until finally old-school sailor ribbon hats bob to the surface amidst the tragic flotsam and jetsam on a calm green sea. The porpoises laugh giddily while gulls wheel overhead scavenging for the good bits. In another about face, the Ya Ya Boom Project stepped up for low-end drums complete with Metal crash cymbal, indie-chime guitar work, Iggy Pop/The Passenger basslines and belting vox. Those female vocals were of the L.A. chick style, not my fav but delivered well although of a limited range. The penultimate song started as a lulling Annie Lennox sweet dream but soon (to my dismay) jumped back into loud rock. Enjoyed by many, Ya Ya Boom is not a band that gets my ya-ya’s out. I stepped out for some burrito action, missing entirely the out-of-town band who were reported to be hard and maybe metalcore but that’s the type of music I rarely regret not seeing. We were back in time for Millard Fillmore or Comedian or whatever they’re calling themselves today. I think those tricksters are just fucking with us. Coyotes! With such a low & lovely heavy roll compared to their usual knock-your-heads-together curbstomp, it was surprising even jarring but no less satisfying. We head-nodded (not banged) in unison. The Fillmores must’ve been practicing the shit out of the new material because it wasn’t meandering into dead ends or taking the wrong fork in the road. We were treated to gorgeous instrumentals (gorgeous? not a word you expect to hear associated with this gang o’ mugs!) until the final song that was “old school” Millard, just to keep us on our toes. Just remember though when you’re on your toes, its harder to keep your balance. BUZZCOCKS 7/19/06 @ Launch Pad See photos of this show here Manchester’s Buzzcocks are often overlooked in the ongoing punk revival but unlike Sex Pistols followers that morphed into drunken yobs, Buzzcocks fans appreciate their intelligence and irreverent humor as well as their devotion to indie labels when most everyone--Pistols included-- were chasing majors like EMI. Punk as fuck in attitude, speedball pop in execution, Steve Diggle and Pete Shelley are back (since 2003) not with much new but taking up where they left off. The live set is a bit too fast and deters differentiation between songs as the melody gets lost in the buzz and sadly encourages bonehead moshpit action. How many times can you idiots be told that extreme mosh was invented by LA punk’s second wave which replaced intelligence & creativity with random violence & incitement. The New York City scene never went in for that nor did the original Brit response to NY that was just as intelligent, if not more angry. Witness the biting lyrics and social observation of the Clash, X Ray Spex, Stiff Little Fingers and their Aussie cousins the Saints. Regardless, this show was fun as fuck with Diggle basking in the glow like it was his birthday. Shelley was lit up too although most of the crowd cheered at Diggle’s madman grin even as Pete ripped out leads. Its the all-too-often sight of the spotlight on a charismatic frontman while the lead guitar sears and the crowd never knows the difference. I don’t know what the fuck was up with the Howard Devoto lookalike in the band. Not flawless but a worthy show. Now if only the Rezillos would cross the pond for us…
Wig Wam Bam (by Captain America PO BX 4865 Albq NM 87196 captainamerica1941@hotmail.com) tells it like it is (or actually, like I is) and may (or not) 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 & sundries, Harlow’s On the Hill, Burt’s Tiki Lounge, Atomic Cantina, Newsland and generally in a tither about something or another.
Wig Wam Bam is written by Captain America  | po box 4865 | albuquerque, nm 87196