Titus Andronicus | Soft Environmental Collapse | Bizzaro Kids (Sons of Herman Hall) What I do with a band like Titus Andronicus? Or is it that I know exactly what to do, since we've been through this so many times before. Their first recordings consisted of pretty passable melodic rock; sloppy and impassioned without sounding too stupid. Casual follow-up listens would reveal, along with the bias-flaring occurrence of their subsequent signing to a larger label, what often occurs with so many bands of this ilk: They started acting more serious, had a "concept" for their new record, and started trying to rewrite some normo rock classic like Music From Big Pink or Rum, Sodomy, And The Lash or The Queen Is Dead, but through the band's own collective modern filter. So many once-exciting bands trade in their youthful flame and eventually settle for trying to make a record that's beyond them, and recording it as a band they are not. So many bands have done this over the years; the once-solid Dr. Dog as a recent example comes to mind, as does the aesthetic arc of Paul Westerberg's entire output and eventual descent into adult contemporary music. In Westerberg's defense, he just kind of peaked early. For some bands, it's better for your career to ditch the rough demo-sounding stuff, as it will maybe even ensure that you are played in dark-wood bars and suburban Irish-inspired pubs for years to come. It doesn't however always hold one's interest the way that those earlier recordings will.
Even more dubious is the band's choice of basing their new record around a Civil War-theme. Yikes. These things are all fine on their own; concept records, pub rock, The Civil War. But mix them altogether and you have a somewhat pretentious mess.
A well-respected venue head I know suggested yesterday, that it would be better to find people that are actually into the specific genre of the shows that are written up, and maybe this is a good example. Though the person was referring to punk rock and punk-pop leaning bands, it might be better to ask a "Senior Analyst Of Melodic Bar Rock" to cover this show. But I actually dispute that method. We definitely like punk and melodic bar rock, but only if it's well-done. That's a no-brainer, right?
Earlier today, I actually heard a Trey Johnson song that I liked more than anything on this band's new record. Does that mean I'm "maturing" or getting lamer? It had a guitar lick that almost sounded like Curtis Mayfield. Not bad.
live review - justice yeldham - majestic dwelling of doom 8/27/10
“Merde!” In 1896 this opening line to Alfred Jarry’s play Ubu Roi echoed through a Paris Theater. In case you do not speak french or have never seen a Godard film, the word means "shit," which is exactly what quickly hit the fan that evening. Upon hearing the utterance, the crowd ignited into a flame of critical brutality-- to do a thing as bold as cursing in a public performance was simply unheard of in civilized society at that time, and the patrons revolted, storming the stage and burning the place down. In the past century or so we have obviously moved into a different level of acceptance when dealing with artistic expression, but there are still hidden corners of the planet where art is being produced with the same intentions as Jarry's, namely to shock and assault the audience for the betterment of all involved. Friday night’s show at The Majestic Dwelling of Doom by Australia's Justice Yeldham was a night that I won’t soon forgot and has left me with many unanswered questions about what to expect from a musical performance, especially when a performance becomes hi-jacked as this one did.
I arrived fairly late to show, around midnight, and I stepped up to find the usual cast of characters socializing outside along with some unseen faces. Some of those faces were very fresh faced, yet any innocence that these young-uns carried in would be dismantled within the next 45 minutes. After making the rounds, a sound of indecipherable electronic screeches began to pulsate from the revolving doors of the Doom manner. Time to party.
As with most acts like Justice that I have minuscule to no knowledge of, I did as little research as possible before stepping in, purposely avoiding the Weekender post, which was very hard to do. I like to be surprised. I entered into an already crowded room with the fanatical noise heads and curiosity seekers perched as safely close to Justice as possible. Laid before him was a multitude of effects and distortion pedals which he knelt before like a priest before the altar. Pressed firmly against his face was a piece of glass which he played by the way of screams, moans and a contact mic.
The music was not discernible from most extreme noise that I experience. In my post a few days ago over the Dharma/Pocket Change I spoke of the control that an artist can exude in the face of seeming chaos. There is a sense of safety one experiences as an audience member when in the hands of a confident, focused performer, and this is what kept Yeldham's performance, essentially a man chewing on glass, from being a freakish oddity and instead rendered it a piece of art to absorbed. The music was intense and hypnotic. Watching him play this instrument, seeing and not understanding the way he created the caustic sound that filled the basement, was an experience unlike any other. The looks of delight and energy the audience was giving off kept the affair a communal one, the synergy at noise shows is unrivaled.
You could tell by the degeneration of the glass that the spirited but exhausting final stabs were meant to bring a close to the powerful performance. Then a challenger entered the ring. The man who in hazy retrospect must have been 7 feet tall looked like a rejected Street Fighter character from an Alabama meth-farm with his tattered sweat pants and natty dreaded (or just unwashed) locks. By this time most of the curiosity seekers had exited, leaving a group of about 30 or so to finish out the set. It was quickly apparent to the audience that this guy was either part of the performance or here to upstage it. After much reflection and Internet research, I’m still not totally sure one way or another.
His initial enthusiasm was not out of the ordinary for a wasted noise dedicate, but I think he knew that he had missed most of the performance and therefore needed to make up for some lost time. From his pants he pulled out something sharp that from my vantage point 3 feet away seemed to be a razor blade. As if in a trance he began to slide the edge across his forehead, each slice about a inch in length. There was a moment of clarity at witnessing this almost ritualistic exercise, and I watched in awe as the blood began to flow from the wounds and drip into small puddles upon the floor. The noise blocked out any sort of rational thoughts I could have in the immediacy of that moment. I stood there enraptured by the combination of wonderment and fear that rushed through my veins as the events unfolded in real time.
“I hate you!!!” screams Yeldham as he raised his instrument above his head and brought it down with brute force upon the devoted fan’s skull, sending glass in all directions (luckily by this time most people had made their way far from him). He smelled really bad too. The impact of glass on skull obviously didn’t help the fresh wounds which continued to ooze all over himself and the basement, making the place looking like a crime scene. As everyone made a beeline for the exit I saw Yeldamn take the man and give him a very cautious hug. This sight gave me relief from the tension balled up in me that I was unable to identify at the time, but now attribute to the joy of knowing I had just witnessed a finely orchestrated performance by, if not rehearsed, a dedicated visual artist committed to pushing the boundaries of violence, music, performance and the role of audience members. I would later find I was wrong.
“I challenged the Train, and the train won!” Our mystery man belted out before exiting the performance . I scanned the damaged that had taken place, not taking any pictures out of fear they might be confiscated later by police as evidence. There was a certain transcendental awe that swept up over my body, facilitated by alcohol consumption, that I had to snap myself out of in order to head out side and get away from the smell of sulfur.
As I exited the space I could already hear the rumblings of what had happened amongst the patrons that spend their entire time out side. I was jumping from conversation to conversation trying to put together the pieces from fragmented re-tellings. I heard talk of him being a schizophrenic who was suffering from a break down, that he had to be pulled off the train tracks earlier when going head to head with it and that he may have also shoved glass up ass earlier in the evening. All of which I found out later to be true. Then my investigation was suddenly interrupted and the story quickly became all too clear.
“I HAVE SEX WITH CHILDREN EVERY NIGHT!” Without having to give a second thought to who it might be, I turned around to see the man taking the pew to deliver his sermon of delirium. “I will destroy you Zionist” he began to scream at the young men trying to reason with him. “..but I am an Atheist man!” You really think that is going to help, buddy? This quickly escalated to the guy grabbing these guys by the collar and in case you forgot, all the while still dripping blood. This change of scene plus the impending police sirens coming down the road let me know it was time to gather my posse and get the fuck out of there.
After finally finding my queasy compadres, we headed across the street to the car. By this time the police had already arrived, and this mythical beast that was thundering around minutes earlier was now subdued by the fuzz to a mere mortal like the rest of us. Turning away from that sad scene I saw Justice crossing the street at the same time as me. “great set, I really enjoyed it” I told him with a smile and a non cynical thumbs up. He looked at me and for a brief second the worry and concern that was all over his face dropped and he acknowledged the compliment and quickly went back on his way.
What a night. I know that this review spent more time speaking of a crazy dude instead of the music which was the centerpiece of the show, but to me it is all one in the same. Jarry would be proud.
post script - Big shout outs go to Natalie V Davila, the Doom crew and Rob Buttrum who put their necks on the lines and clean up blood to bring us great shows like this. Thanks to Bradley Santulli for the video.
I hate to self importantly inundate you with our various press profiles of late, but we are surprised at the amount of interest ever since we announced our imminent finale. You may be surprised to see that we did an interview with The Dallas Observer's Pete Freedman for their DC 9 At Night blog. Freedman starts off by stating:
For the past five years, We Shot JR, for better or worse, has been a fairly prominent player in the local music scene...
What do you all think? Has it been for the better? Or for worse?
Also, bummed to hear about the once-ample parking available at the Phoenix Project, having to be done away with. Click here to read why.
FRIDAY
Black Friday With Anthony Stanford | Keith P | Ben White (Fallout Lounge)
Justice Yeldham | Solypsis | Drums Like Machine Guns | Heavy Medical | Depths/Filth | Ascites (Doom): You may have heard of Justice Yeldham. He's mostly known for his technique of shouting into, and on, and...through a sheet of amplified glass, which often cuts him, and leaves him bloody at the end of a performance. He represents everything that annoys, bothers, or scares people about this type of music and performance, and then goes beyond all of that even. I would actually love to see this show. I have always enjoyed the videos and recordings, but I pass out if I nick myself shaving. I may just have to stomach it, because this seems lie the best lineup all weekend.
This show also marks the birthday of House Of Tinnitus-organizer and Lychgate noisemaker, Rob Buttrum, who helped put this show on at The Majestic Dwelling of Doom, so wish him a Happy Birthday. His shows have been a joy to see over the years and I have always found his aesthetic filter to be one of the most discriminating, as well as one of the most intelligent in the area. He's always been one of those people so rare in any music community; someone that knows how to say that all-too powerful and seldom uttered word: "No." Happy Birthday, Rob. You completely fucking rule.
ADD: Rodrigo Diaz/Oleg B (The Cavern-upstairs-) SATURDAY Drug Mountain | Dust Congress | Daniel Francis Doyle | Drink to Victory (Rubber Gloves) This is Drug Mountain's last show, and that's a shame, but at least this lineup is completely solid. Unfortunately, I believe they are almost completely sold-out of their twelve inch, if not just a handful of copies shy.
El Cento | Orange Peel Sunshine | Les Americains | Diamond Age (Kessler) The description on the invite mentions something about Diamond Age being a "self-contained" project, implying a solo project, and if that's the case I really want to see how this is pulled off. I keep missing this guy.
Good news, losers-- our good friends over at Fun Fun Fun Fest, who we've been working with ever since the first edition of the festival a few years ago, have been nice enough to give us two passes to the festival to pass along to you. So, all you have to do to win is to re-tweet our post about Fun Fun Fun Fest, or, if you don't have a Twitter account, simply email us at weshotjrtix@yahoo.com with your full name in the email body and "Fun Fun Fun Fest" as the subject. You have until Tuesday at 5pm to enter, so get to it!
A lot of people have expressed concern that they won't know "where to find shows" now that We Shot JR is going away, however, I have an answer, though a slightly complicated one, and everyone that has ever said "Let me Google that for you" should go ahead and just jump off of Reunion Tower and do us all a favor.
I recently did an interview* with Pegasus News about the site ending, and I mentioned after the interview that I had missed their old calendar listings for some time now, since I thought they did away with their old calendar format. Well, apparently, I have just been overlooking the placement of the calendar after they did a site redesign a while back. So, stupid me, and of course, many of you will agree with that sentiment. Sure, it's not perfect, and it's best for listing big touring shows, but it's one of the easiest and most concise show listings available for DFW events, and it has quite often surprised me with the things I have overlooked. Special thanks to Pegasus News managing editor Sarah Blaskovich. Click here.
Also, you should always check both Dallas Hardcore and Dallas Dance Music for shows that you won't find in a lot of the traditional media outlets, and especially for events that take place at spots where they may only have a show once every six months, or even never again.
*Do I sound like a total pacifist in the interview? I didn't mean to. I don't know how I feel about that. The shows:
Teenage Cool Kids | Mind Spiders | St. Dad | Best Fwends (Rubber Gloves): I'm guessing this might be one of your last chances to see Teenage Cool Kids for quite some time, so I would go ahead and make it out if possible. I have seen different things listed as to who is actually playing tonight in different places for this show, but hey, all that usually means is that everyone is so excited to go that they start making up dream lineups in their heads and posting them. St. Dad's vocals have the taunted little brat sound that I wish the Strange Boys had stuck with, but I understand. Many bands start with a good gimmick, and you're second act is often to grow out of it. I was pretty struck by this band actually. Best Fwends are a group that once made a recording engineer I know remark that they "are everything wrong with music today." That actually made me like them more. That was during their ipod/rap/a capella phase, but last time I saw them they had a full rock lineup and played a pretty spot-on version of "March Of The Pigs" that everyone liked ironically except that Gutterth guy. Mind Spiders is a local band that released a record through Dirt Nap but nobody has really covered them yet. Weird. I assume that will change soon.
TCK's Andrew Savage was working on a an actual physical zine called "Wild Style" and I hope that I get to see a copy of that before he's off to New York.
80/s Night: La Discoteca D'Italia with Anthony Stanford | Yeah Def (Hailey's): I don't know if this is every week, but I would love to have a place to hear Italo on a regular basis, and unfortunately there has been somewhat of a void with deep-cut, non-John Hughes 80's stuff since DJ G left. Looks like Yeah Def is still on-board, and I hope the theme is permanent.
I hate it when shows this good happen in Dallas and not Denton. The best dream-pop show of the summer. At least I got the opportunity to post the Outer Limits cover which was something I hoped to accomplish before the end came. Very recommended if you like the same stuff I do but are afraid to admit it out of fear being made fun of.
Through out John Cale's long and lustrous career the rock god has released live albums that are not just live performance of old recordings but fully realized albums of their own. This particular recording just barely beats out Sabotage/Live for the coveted spot of favorite live album, with Fragments from a Rainy Season coming in a close second. These recordings stem from 1978 and 79 - depending on who you ask - but was not "officially" released until the very limited CD run in 1987.
Cale is of course know for his avant garde leaning when approaching pop music, but the album is much heavier on the Avant side. The songs here had all been unreleased up to this point, except of course for Helen of Troy which features a BRUTAL performance on the guitar by Ritchie Fliegler as he out Fripps Chris Spedding's original performance. The over the top theatrics of opener Dance of the Seven Veils features Judy Nylon on vocals who he had collaborated previously with on one of my favorite fun Cale tracks The Man Who Couldn't Afford to Orgy. The ballad Don't Know Why She Came stands beside I Keep a Close Watch and I'm Not the Loving Kind as one of his finest.
While this live recording is not as beautifully poetic as the minimalistic Fragments From a Rainy Season or as full on punk rock as Sabotage/Live or as lounge room sleazy as John Cale Comes Alive (boy that's a weird one!) but I think this one one works best as a synchronization of all the aspects of Cale that make him the performer I adore so.
This is the CD version of the album, unfortunately the record is one of the few missing spots in my 23 LP Cale collection. The LP features a couple more tracks one of which is Jack the Ripper. I went ahead and included the studio version featured on the Island Years collection because it is a damn fine song and should be heard.*
Since the blog is coming to end I'm going to try and keep these coming every Tuesday until we officially call it quits and I might even throw in some fun extras like the big block of text you see below. This is a review I wrote after seeing the man, one of heroes, live for the first time. Just thought you would like to see that my annoying writing style was framed well before becoming part of the staff here.
Frank Phosphate circa 2005
For most of my adult life I have been a near obsessive fan of a musician by the name of John Cale. He is, in my opinion, one of the most important artists, constructors and trend setters in modern pop and rock and roll. Yet like most truly great artist his work goes unrecognized. When I found out that not only would he performing in Texas, but in Dallas and in Austin with an in store at Waterloo records. I cleared my schedule and have been dreaming for the past two months about these two days of musical ecstasy.
I just returned home from the Dallas show and tomorrow I will be staying at home and cleaning instead of visiting Austin. We will discuss why this is later.
So why is John Cale my favorite musician? Here is a crash course. John Cale is from a foreign country named Wales. It is here that he studied classical performance and at a young age won a scholarship to study in New York. It is here where Cale worked and composed alongside such notable figures in avant garde music as LaMont Young, John Cage and Terry Riley.
Then John Cale changed rock music forever when he met up with Lou Reed, Sterling Morrison and Mo Tucker to form the Velvet Underground. Leaving the band after two monumental albums he went on to create a catalogue of some of the most diverse and forward thinking rock and roll ever recorded. Along with his studio albums Cale produced some great debut records by The Modern Lovers, Squeeze, The Stooges and most notably Patti Smith's Horses.
Now with his latest release BlackAcetate (astralwerks) Cale continues to wow fans and critics with his unique brand of rock and roll. What other 60+ musicians claims his current influences to be The Strokes and Dr Dre? I highly recommend that you go out and purchase any and everything you can by him, or give me a call and I’ll give you a mix CD.
I sat alone toward the front of the stage amongst a crowd of what looked to be community college professors and civil lawyers. The people of my age bracket preferred to hang out toward the back bar area comparing the tightness of one another’s pants and attempting to pick up the bar maid in the mini skirt. I could not stop shaking in anticipation. Just imagine if you had the chance to see Radiohead or Pink Floyd with an audience of maybe one hundred people and you can imagine where my nerves were. As I looked around no one else really seemed to be as excited as I was. Maybe in their later ages they have learned to control their giddy child like glee.
The curtain comes up there he is with his trademark violin and tears right into the Velvet Underground favorite “Venus in Furs”. The sound was amazing and the setting was more intimate than I could have ever hoped for. He didn’t spend much time talking it up or making witty banter. He stuck to the music and that was just fine by me.
The set was very tight, maybe a little too tight. He did a wonderful job of not neglecting his older catalogue playing Guts, Helen of Troy and a few other seventies masterpieces. The supporting band looked and sounded like they could have just as easily been backing up Ashlie Simpson. While they were competent you could see their faces become bewildered as Cale veered off into any territory they hadn’t practiced earlier. This was one of the problems I had with the show. Cale works better as a solo performer. I have heard numerous live albums (official and bootleg) where it is just him, a guitar and a piano. It is in this capacity that he is able to explore the dark recess of his music and emote a near cathartic wale that is uniquely his.
By the end of the show my hands were red and raw from clapping he thanked the audience and left. We demanded more. After a few short moments he came back on to perform “Concrete” from the new album. A very musically haunting and stark piece but lyrically surprisingly suburban with lines such as “a voice calls out from the den ‘What time does Survivor come’” It is songs like this that make Cale so great. He is able to create songs that push you’re your ears and brain to work overtime but never forgets the one element that almost all great artist do, to have a pedestrian sense of humor.
I was now at that critical juncture. Do I bask in the glow that radiated through my soul and ear drums and call it a night or do I try to stalk the musician. Like a recovering heroin addict who just ran out of methadone I took the route that I would later end up regretting. I needed another fix, and was going to go for it.
As the crowd cleared out I made a beeline to the back of the theatre where I saw that the tour bus was. Here was my chance to meet the man who I have been listening to and idolizing for years. Here was my chance to shake hands with one of the most important figures in avant-garde, pop and experimental music of the twentieth century. There were seven people with the same idea as me standing there. They of course were all at least 25 years older than myself. I stood around for over an hour as roadies loaded equipment into the back of a trailer. I cupped my ears to try and hear any talk about Cale and more importantly a hint that he might be exiting the bus anytime soon. After I had flipped through my horrendous digital pictures for the billionth time one of the Granada workers tipped me off.
“Hey man, looks like Cale is off the bus, here is your chance”
I glanced up and indeed, he was off the bus joking around with the drummer. I stood up and with great caution made my way towards him. I cycled through all the ways that I could possibly ask him for a photograph without sounding like just another twenty something male fan or a complete idiot. There I was, about fifteen feet away from him. His conversation with his pal had ended and the man had left toward the club. Here is my chance. I begin to raise my hand to wave and for a split second our eyes met. Before I had time to blink or fully extend my arm he turned around and walked on to his bus. As I stared blankly at the bus I could hear the thunderous clank of the lock being fastened on the door.
It was on the lonely ride home that a lot of things became clear to me. John Cale is an artist and in that respect he is a master. Every time I put on one of his records I get a feeling that no other artist can, and that has not and will not change. I don’t know what I thought seeing him live would have done for me. Maybe I thought I would have a greater insight into him as a man or gain a better understanding of his music. Maybe I just wanted to let him know how much he meant to me beyond just being the guy that left The Velvet Underground. Even though that moment I had never felt such great disappointment, I am glad that he turned his back on me, whether he did it consciously or not.
So I am not going to Austin. I will not be driving for 6 hours, spending 20 more dollars on a concert ticket, waiting in line to get my early 1970’s ads from Melody Maker signed or trying to get my picture taken with a 63 year old musician.
Am I glad that I went to The Granada tonight? Yes. It was a great show and I am glad that I got to experience the music live. And it did something that I didn’t plan on, it turned my views on the relationship between art, artist and consumer upside down. But what else is great art meant to do but to make you feel elated and confused at the same time?
This is all too much to think about. I am going to go lye in bed and listen to Trapped in the Closet.
* EDIT: Ah fuck it I am going to go ahead and include this self made album of unreleased/rare material as well because I just got back from a really nice date involving spinach quesadillas and Terminator 2 so I am feeling extra generous. These are all tracks that I have collected from various bootleg/collections/live sources and arranged in a some what coherent fashion and titled Save us From the House of God. Aren't I clever? Of particular interest is the song Velvet Couch that is a collaboration with David Bowie in Bowie's apartment at cocaine o' clock sometime in the early 70's. The recording quality is horrendous but it is a rare piece of Cale history.
A Giant Dog | John Wesley Coleman III/ Kampfgrounds (J&J's) I wrote the below Austin dis before I realized that A Giant Dog is in fact a band from Austin, and not a half bad one either. Their sound is pretty much that Austin "garage rock" sound (whatever the hell that even means anymore), but we can't necessarily fault everyone who makes this music just because its the go-to genre for "edgy" Ron Paul supporters. Anyway, A Giant Dog actually does this kind of thing the right way, and fans of the Oh Sees and the Fresh and Onlys, especially those who dig a rougher sound with more rockabilly and classic rock n roll influences, will certainly want to see this.
Singles Going Steady (Rubber Gloves): This looks and sounds like a good time, but if it was in Austin it would annoy me. That's why Denton's "scene" is better, in a nutshell-- thanks to that stupid Matador comp, we're gonna have to face at least several years of almost every band coming out of Austin consisting of people trying to "make it" in music. Bummer.
One of the more exciting acts to emerge in the local music scene is the one woman powerhouse who goes by the name Dharma. I have witnessed two of her performance and both times I was astonished by the amount of focus and control she seems to have over every aspect of her squirm worthy performance. She is a refreshingly confrontational performer and not just the the get in your face and scream way (which she does) but the over all aesthetic quality; the way she moves, facial expression, body contortions all seem very deliberate and self assured and totally off the wall. Through out her recent performance at Dan's I kept waiting for the surly sound guy to come pull her off the stage, or the bar top where she ended up at various times. Her stage persona combined with lackadaisical synth-driven ballads and murky distorted lyrics is a refreshing, forward thinking approach which warrants multiple ingestions. Musically you could draw parallels to Darktown Strutters, but Dharma's approach is much less refined and raw, trading in Darktown's post modern ice queen approach for a much dirtier wallop. The performance is almost a cathartic experience, you can watch her wail and pound so you don't have to. It is pretty easy to get in front of a group and make them uncomfortable, but it takes skill to couple that with an engaging performance.
Pocket Change share a similar 'what the fuck' aesthetic to their live performance. The music is much more sexually driven as opposed to Dharma's humanity crushing dissonance. I have been following this group with a close eye since their first splash onto the scene a couple years ago when the then duo would leave audiences with that uncomfortable feeling after a one night stand. The sex was great and freaky but the next morning you are left questioning what happened the night before and where that stain came from. The group has toned the sexuality down since becoming a trio. While the air humping isn't as frequent, there is a certain dime store glamor that they bring to the stage which hits the same nerves. Just like Dharma, Pocket Change make an effort to marry their music with a performance that reinforces the undertones of the music while creating an experience that a recording can't capture. They are a dance band, but unlike the hollow soullessness of Sextape, the group have a certain humanity and fragility that brings the music above the ironic throwback style that is so prominent in the dance music scene. The interactions between the members, both physically and musically, is something I don't see very often either, at least not effectively.
I would not consider either of the acts 'performance artist' because the musical backbone they share is strong and would still be interesting with out the theatrics. But it's a welcome touch.
Gobble Gobble are from Canada, sorry that's all I got.
So it's sort of been a long time coming for those of us at WeShotJR HQ, but after several months of thinking and talking about it, we've decided, for a variety of reasons, that the time has come to put an end to this website after nearly 5 years. The reasons are many, of course, and we'll explain a lot of them to you here in the coming weeks, but with writers moving to different cities and taking on more involved jobs, etc., we feel like we've slowly been running out of the free time necessary to run this website the right way, and therefore should put a stop to it rather than continue on in a reduced capacity.
We'll continue our posts as usual until some time in mid to late October (we'll reveal the exact date soon), and we'll be hosting a small event around that time to celebrate some of the musicians we've enjoyed here over the past few years. In the meantime, we'll be doing several interesting features, reviews and interviews as we wind things down, and you'll see those pop up here over the next few weeks. Stay tuned for more information in the weeks to come, and thanks so much for reading all these years.
MON: Gobble Gobble | Florene | Pocket Change | Dharma (Doom) MON: Rayon Beach | Jack O'Hara | Museum Creatures (The Nightmare) TUE: A Giant Dog | John Wesley Coleman III | Kampfgrounds (J&J's) WED: Amo Joy! | New Science Projects | Fishboy | Iji (The Hydrant) THR: Teenage Cool Kids | Mind Spiders | St. Dad (Rubber Gloves) FRI: Justice Yeldham | Solypsis | Drums Like Machine Guns | Heavy Medical | Depths | Filth | Ascites (Doom) FRI: Kashioboy | Peopleodian | Museum Creatures (Nightmare) SAT: Drug Mountain | Dust Congress | Daniel Francis Doyle | Drink to Victory (Rubber Gloves) SAT: Stymie | No Heroes | Sour Mash | Genius Party | Prognosis Negative | High Anxieties (Little Guys Movers) SAT: Florene | Missions | Cygnus (The Cavern) SAT: Telegraph Canyon | Spooky Folk | Monahans | Final Club | Old Snack | Baruch the Scribe | Goldilocks & The Rock | Land Mammals | DJ Five Easy Pieces (Hailey's) SUN: Tweak Bird | Drums Like Machine Guns | Heavy Medical | Depths (The Nightmare)
I was lucky enough to catch Yells At Eels and Blixaboy at The Cavern last night, and it was definitely the best show I've seen there in well...probably years. Yells at Eels was as solid as always, but this time the soft refrain/chaos/soft refrain switching-off brought to mind records like Sun Ra'sLanquidity, or Art Ensemble Of Chicago'sLes Stances à Sophie which are a couple of personal favorites as far as "out-there" Jazz goes. Stefan Gonzalez is moving to Austin soon, and will be sorely missed, but something tells me we will still continue to hear great things from this legendary local family.
As far as Wanz' Blixaboy set, I'll be the first to tell you that I've heard plenty of hyperbole from Dover over the years about his various projects, and I understand that it's a mix of civic frustration and an almost impossible and borderline insane determination that keeps him so on-edge. Just a guess. Maybe I recognize it in the very reasons that started this whole website. All guessing aside, I have to say that it was by far the best set I've ever seen Wanz play, thanks in no small part to his excellent drummer. I'm the first guy to get nervous when I see the laptop/theremin combo, but Wanz really, really pulled off the various styles of electronic sounds he's into with more confidence and success than I've previously seen. Keep in mind that this is a guy I've watched since I was sixteen. That's much longer ago than I even want to admit, but I'll give you a hint: Chris Farley was still alive.
FRIDAY
George Quartz | Darktown Strutters | Future Blondes | DJG (Pastime Tavern) Dallas debut for Future Blondes, which is yet another avant-leaning Houston group that doesn't suck, and just lends more substance to my theory that the city has always been a dark horse in the never-ending discussion on Texas music. After all, this state is as big as Afghanistan, remember? The group is led by one particularly prolific Houstonian, simply named Domokos, who has ties to other respectable acts like Rusted Shut and has even written (and quite well, I might add) for Houston Press, interviewing such underground luminaries as Psychic TV cohort and Genesis P-Orridge's manager Ryan Martin as well as WFMU musical director Brian Turner. It's important to let people who actually deal with music firsthand to have a say in things, as the content of these interviews proves.
Houston also has some forward thinking venues like Notsouh and Super Happy Fun Land which has regularly hosted noise fests and other under-the-radar events, yet still receives regular coverage in the city's alternative weekly.
Not only that, but the best show I've probably ever attended was in Houston: The Ex playing in a high school cafeteria with The Aislers Set, which was sponsored by the non-profit group, MECA. It was at this show that I realized what a strongly supportive underground, free jazz, and noise scene Houston had, and I started to understand why the city's dealers always have the best selection at every record convention. There were little tables set up with all sorts of activist pamphlets and the atmosphere was extremely friendly and utopian. Finally if you're ever naming names, don't forget Jandek, Red Krayola, DJ Screw, and the entire International Artists roster.
In short, don't sleep on this show and don't talk shit about a place you know very little about. You know what other city is cool? LA.
Sextape | Museum Creatures | Vulgar Fashion | Prince William (Fallout Lounge): Great lineup with various forms of synth aesthetic, both poppy (Sextape, Museum Creatures) and creepy (Vulgar Fashion). Last time I saw Vulgar Fashion here they only performed one song, which was a complete drag, but it was the best one-song set I've ever seen. It's good to see Prince William out and about. I know someone was saying on some comment this week that we only ever covered "hipster" dance music, but I'd like to see someone claim that the work that Prince William did with local rapper Hawatha in particular is hipster. Can we finally abolish that stupid term anyway? We're all guilty. Trust me, when you're hanging out at Gloria's or whatever and you're not the polo-necked men and mannequin women actually enjoying themselves, but instead arguing with your friends over "Who got what?" and "Who's getting the tip?" then you're definitely not anyone that should be calling anyone else a "hipster."
Embolization | Akkolyte | The Body (Pastime Tavern): I was surprised to see that crazy, costumed duos that play loud and heavy music still come from Providence and that people are still into it. I genuinely think that's cool. It may not be as shocking as it was in 2000, but isn't it kind of reassuring that the world isn't as different as you thought it was? Some of their tracks take themselves more seriously than I was expecting. One track in particular had me worried because it kind of sounded as simultaneously grandiose and somber as something by Dirty Three or Mono. But then I hear this ridiculous cover of Black Flag's "Police Story" and the nasty desperate screams that passed for a vocal made the other slow song so much better. Know what I mean? DIVERSITY. The classic metal of Embolization along with the politico-grind of Akkolyte make this a perfect, fucked up beast of a show.
