What transpired this weekend was a quickie trip to the Twin Cities where I saw two shows.
The first was at Club Underground on Friday evening for an all-electro night. Opening was a duo whose performing name was never dropped within range, but no matter. They would likely be happier if I didn’t drop their name because they were positively mind-bleedingly bad. Picture, if you will, a girl dressed at the height of ’80s new romantic fashion paired with Mr. Joe Generic in very oversized pants and very oversized goggles, carrying an acoustic guitar. Together, they sang many covers of many songs in many varied boring ways. Oh how scandalous, a Britney Spears cover! They actually opened with a cover of K’s Choice’s classic “Not An Addict,” complete with rather large droppings of incorrect lyrics (not modified to be intentionally more interesting from what I could tell, just wrong) and a whole bundle of bland.
Oh, I could rip on horrible acts all day, but instead I shall move it along, no?
Between sets was Beatrix*Jar mixing things up. Basically, it’s free-form mixing and looping, incorporating a plethora of children’s toys including the completely rad Speak ‘n’ Spell. Unfortunately, they’re either too avant garde for their own good or they just plain don’t understand how to create a coherent sound texture. Regardless, they were interesting enough to hear for novelty’s sake; then it was time to head outside for a smoke. Ahhh, Minneapolis and your stupid smoking ban. That could never fly anywhere in Iowa.
Next up was Amir, who I was informed plays a lot of raves and such in the TC area. He was very, very interesting, manned with a guitar, a laptop, and some very basic hardware. The kid free-mixed for over an hour, tossing in distorted lyrics and the occasional guitar licks. The set may have been a little long for patience’s sake and for this being a bar and not a rave, but regardless, he was appreciated. I was none too pleased with his choice of exit music (the ever-incorrigible “Summer Breeze”) but at least the rest of the set was alright.
And wrapping up the night was Uber Cool Kung Fu, mentioned a time or two before in this lovely column. As the last time I saw them, they put on a highly energetic and entertaining set; then, MAYHEM occurred as the keyboard died! How does one correct such a major issue? Why, by allowing the audience to smash the offending instrument, that’s how. It didn’t take much more than that (well, and some alcohol, and excellent tunes) to get the crowd in a frenzy. All’s well and ended well, aside from the whining snit that accompanied the death of an instrument, but this is to be expected.
And that was just night one.
Night two was in Faribault at The Depot, where Lolly Pop and the Billionaire Boys Club was opening for Venus de Mars of All The Pretty Horses. What can I say about this show while maintaining some sort of journalistic integrity? Not a whole lot. But this being my second time seeing the Lolly Pop show, it was just as hilariously fun as the last time. Venus was mesmerizing and the entourage that accompanied was absolutely charming. More fun came later including a group train of “Tequila” across the bartop and other shenanigans, but again… journalistic integrity? Whatever, the show was an experience and a total blast and I can’t do anything but recommend highly.
Good thing I’m heading north for Labor Day as well or I might run out of things to write about in this here top section, no?
Alice In Musicland
OMG OZZFEST DRAMA from Blabbermouth:
The following report was submitted by David Priest, editor-in-chief of On Track Magazine:
“Last night’s [August 20] headlining performance of IRON MAIDEN at Ozzfest in San Bernardino, CA rendered some interesting, if not disturbing, results. Although MAIDEN played one hell of a show, they were under attack from the moment they began their set. From the time they hit the stage, they suffered power loss on at least three occasions and they were continuously pelted with ice, bottle caps, and eggs, among other things. Vocalist Bruce Dickinson was even spit on by one attendee. He seemed to believe these occurrences were not by accident and insinuated that they had been planned from the beginning of the night. He also encouraged the other audience members to break the arm of anyone that they saw throwing things their way. Upon concluding their performance, the emcee for the evening began to chant Ozzy, Ozzy while Bruce was still speaking. Bruce retaliated by chanting MAIDEN. After he left the stage, Sharon Osbourne took over the mic and informed the crowd that they absolutely loved IRON MAIDEN and their crew and stated that they were all wonderful but that their singer Bruce Dickinson was a prick and had disrespected Ozzfest since they began their stint with the touring summer festival. This, of course, came as a shock to those of us in attendance and the there was ample confusion and speculation from audience members there after. As previously announced, last night’s show marked the final performance of IRON MAIDEN on this year’s Ozzfest. VELVET REVOLVER will be taking over their slot on the last remaining dates.”
I LOVE METAL!
Since this time, all photos and such of Iron Maiden have been removed from the Ozzfest website, and Sharon Osbourne claims that Dickinson tried to ruin Ozzfest with a poor attitude toward the festival from the beginning. Meanwhile, Iron Maiden has been mum on the subject. Backstage accounts say that the Osbournes planned the entire egg-throwing shenanigan over some ridiculous comments made by Dickinson in some interview somewhere. Ahhh, drama, without ye, metal would be nothing.
Anyway… drama?
From News of the World:
Wild woman of rock Courtney Love sensationally revealed last night that she is pregnant by Alan Partridge star Steve Coogan.
Approached in Los Angeles by the News of the World, she confirmed: “Yes, I am pregnant with Steve’s baby.”
Courtney, widow of Nirvana legend Kurt Cobain, discovered her shock news just three days ago through a home pregnancy kit.
The baby was conceived during her two-week, drug-fuelled sex fling with British comedian Coogan in LA when they were both staying at the famous Sunset Marquis hotel in West Hollywood.
Two week sex fling = good.
Drugs = bad.
This is how people get knocked up, you know. SEX. Didn’t anyone ever teach Courtney that? Or show her what a condom is? Or maybe… yeah, I mean, she is 41 years old. FORTY ONE YEARS OLD. For all we know, she was having early signs of menopause and thought she was over and done with.
Oh my god I can’t believe I just wrote that sentence. I need go wash out my brain with bleach.
To be completely serious, there hasn’t been a time when Courtney Love hasn’t been in complete and total self-destruct mode. I feel badly for Frances and I feel badly for this baby-to-be if she decides to keep it. She’s the most selfish woman on the planet and should be mandatorily sterilized. Three options in life, Courtney: find resolve from within to fight against your problems, medicate and get psychological help for your issues, or do yourself in Cobain-style. Choose. QUICKLY.
Anyway, with all of this nonsense in the universe, we’re all missing something much more important.
From the AP:
Hilly Kristal opened CBGB’s in December 1973, envisioning a home on the Bowery for country music. And then the punks took over. The Ramones. Blondie. Talking Heads. Television.
They all launched their careers on the cramped stage at Kristal’s low-maintenance club, which became the mid-1970s epicenter for a musical revolution and still rocks on three decades later.
But it may be time for the last (slam) dance at the storefront bar with its familiar white awning. The club’s lease expires on Aug. 31; a longstanding rent dispute could persuade the landlord, the Bowery Residents’ Committee, to shut down the venerable birthplace of punk and find a new tenant.
Negotiations were ongoing over the new lease, with high-profile rockers Little Steven Van Zandt and Blondie’s Debbie Harry coming to the aid of Kristal and the club. And although CBGB’s won a recent court decision regarding its back rent, there’s no guarantee that a new deal will be reached.
For now, the club’s walls remain covered with band stickers and posters testifying to CBGB’s long musical legacy. And even if it goes out of business, the club with its capacity of 350 people provided years of memorable moments.
On the other hand, as the late New York Dolls guitarist Johnny Thunders once observed:
“You can’t put your arms around a memory.”
Yeah. Courtney’s breeding and Sharon’s screaming, and meanwhile, a legend in the universe of music is most likely going to be closing its doors forever.
For shame.
Your Band Here
As usual, we play this game: if you are in a band or know someone who is, send ’em on over to me or add me on MySpace, and I’ll trudge through whatever you have. I’m tough but fair, but even if you suck, hey! Free press! Eat it up while you can.
And with that…
Blind Faith and Envy (also on MySpace):
See? Good things do come from Wisconsin. It’s not a cultural wasteland after all! Anyway, this absolutely wonderful poppy-darkwave duo might have one of those obnoxious websites that maximizes the window, but it’s worth it to get to the tunes inside. They’re not very adventurous in the territory they cover, but damn, they know tight pop songwriting. A listen or two will stick in your head like glue.
Highlight: Vocalist Charlene April has a beautiful voice that compliments the dark atmosphere of their infectious pop music. The electro portion isn’t all that innovative but it does the songs justice.
Lowlight: There are times when the band sounds confused as to whether they’re goth or pop. Kind of like Kelly Osbourne wanting to be punk.
Kingfish (also on MySpace):
By their account, they’re an experimental indie rock band; yep, that’s pretty damned accurate. They like Radiohead, Travis, Coldplay and The Mars Volta; yep, that’s pretty damned obvious. A Texas band with a Brit feel, they’re working on an album at present and offering a bit of old samples on MySpace. From the bits they have offered, it’s not a bad little idea.
Highlight: Well, there’s not a lot to go on, but they do sound promising as far as quality goes.
Lowlight: Does the world honestly need more bands with a Radiohead feel? I mean, I love OK Computer as much as the next person, but hopefully they’ve been working on becoming more than just a conglomeration of other existing (and quite popular) bands.
Ol Sonuf (also on MySpace):
Wow, these guys have a huge sound. Heralding from Maryland, Ol Sonuf is most certainly metal with a heavy tech/progressive edge and a lot of symphonic and black elements. It’s rather eclectic, yes, but the mesh works well without overshadowing itself. And I did not mention the absolutely gorgeous piano work of primary member Jason A. Wood. There’s a bucketload of potential here.
Highlight: Virtuosity is abound. Given that the entire band is pretty much one guy, with a chick singing every now and again and some help on strings, it’s just crazy that it’s a one man band.
Lowlight: The biggest lowlight would only come from those who just plain don’t like the genre. Really, I’m impressed, and can’t say much worse than that.
And that is that!
p.s. MySpace is scary. You don’t want to see the non-band messages I get. Very, very scary.
My Opinion Matters
Today I would like to give my opinion on: bars that play music videos.
First of all, I despise television. But I grew up on the oldschool MTV that actually played videos and was a devotee of Headbanger’s Ball. Therefore, when I go to a bar that is playing videos on a large-screen television instead of just a standard jukebox or in lieu of live music, I get kind of teary-eyed and wistful for days of yore.
But dammit, jukeboxes are better. I mean, who wants to go out to a bar and essentially stare at a television with your friends? In the meantime you can have some conversation, but usually it’s about the band or the video, either mocking or praising it. Time freezes when songs begin and end due to anticipation. And anyone who tries starting a non-video-related topic typically gets interrupted by someone wanting to make a point about what’s going on on the screen.
This is wrong. We are humans and we need interaction. Music should be a liaison to this, not a distraction from. One can just as easily vegetate in front of a DVD at home and drink much more cheaply. Going out into the world dictates that one will interact with everything going on around them, not block it out. This is the equivalent of Internet geeks like myself and others who would conceptually go out drinking at an Internet cafe. That is not socializing. That is overpriced and stupid.
As for the bars themselves: for shame. Hire bands. Stretch your jukebox. Make your establishment a bit more interesting so that you aren’t relegated to providing idiot boxes to attract clientele. Be a sports bar if you must, but don’t be a music video playing bar. You are ruining everything.
The Rad Ones
Trevor gets the first big link because he thought Fingers and I were being sarcastic when we said we were glad to have him back around the ol’ IP. For crying outloud, he totally rips on Coldplay. How could I not hug and squeeze him and want him all over this site?
Kyle David Paul gets the second slot because I adore him and his vicious opinions about VH1.
Also, if you didn’t notice: music reviews are back in full force. You’ll see buckets more where those came from!
Lucard eats squid! YUMMY! I’m not a fan of the deep-fried variety and actually prefer it raw. Yeah, I don’t belong in Iowa.
Danny Wallace has some excellent ideas for summertime mixed drinks. I have had the first one on many occasions when I’m feeling all girly and umbrella-drinky and it makes me smile.
I WANNA DRAW MY CHARACTERS! Liquidcross didn’t sound all that impressed, but eh, I don’t have a PS2 anyway. Still… DRAWRINGS! I have the sudden urge to play Mario Paint.
McCullar reviews the DVD of one of the few movies I actually saw in the theater last year. Or was that this year? I don’t even remember anymore, I just know that it was super fun. But how are the extras? READ AND FIND OUT.
And Nick Pomazak gets a link just for having a photo of the Pillsbury Dough Boy. ‘Nuff said.
Outro
Yes, Band vs. Band is missing this week but you saw the tale of my weekend; time is a bit crunchy. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have plenty more fun to add.
Indeed, this is where my column is about to get a smidgen bloggy.
I have a roommate with very terrible taste in music. Sure, I once dragged her to a Dream Theater show and we both saw Madonna together a few years back. But other than that? Her idea of fun shows are reunited conglomerations of The Temptations featuring one original member and going to Buddy Holly dances. She’s got the Gretchen Wilson CD and made me burn Avril LaVigne for her. I’m just glad she keeps it quietly to herself or I would probably lose my mind.
Now, my roommate also has this male friend who you might call a boyfriend but… well, let’s not get into that. I have known him since high school, but that’s neither here nor there. The issue is that he’s not so private with his music. See, his taste is even less tolerable than my roomie’s. Yes, the boy is into three things:
He’s constantly got his PSP in tow, cranking one or more of the above constantly. If not then, he’s on her computer, downloading tracks to transfer to the device and blasting them through the speakers in the meantime. Sure, I’m always playing music in my room, but I keep it down to a dull roar. Meanwhile, as I write this column, Nevermore is being drowned out by a bunch of hoots and hollas from who knows what godforsakenly awful southern rap “artist” he pulled out of his ass today.
(Now don’t get me wrong, I like my share of hip-hop as well, but you must concur that Three 6 Mafia is nothing but bad. They wrote a song about drinking codeine syrup. They wrote a song about spinning wheel rims. Even the worst of metal bands will sing about vikings taking over foreign lands, which is at least respectable. But SPINNERS? FUCKING SPINNERS??)
If that wasn’t so bad, he’s usually stopping by my corner of the world to tell me about some awful DJ’s side project or to try to once again convince me to give ICP another try. I’m sorry, buddy, it just isn’t going to happen. Somewhere along the way since we graduated high school, I stayed on the path of good taste while he ventured out into Idiotic Stonerville (not to be confused with “Intellectual Stonerville” which is almost as bad). At least he’s not listening to 311 anymore. I mean, I can almost tolerate ICP if that’s my other option.
Almost.
Instead, how about some cleansing? I know I need it to get the crunk out, not to mention mental scarring from thinking about Courtney Love’s menstrual cycle.
An oldie but a goodie, refreshed this weekend thanks to a radass DJ, from my days of cruising the roads in my ’85 Chevy Cavalier with the hole in the door that I kicked in while trying to break a chunk of rust off:
Make up your mind
Decide to walk with me
Around the lake tonight
Around the lake tonight
By my side
By my side
I’m not gonna lie
I’ll not be a gentleman
Behind the boathouse
I’ll show you my dark secret
I’m not gonna lie
I want you for mine
My blushing bride
My lover, be my lover, yeah…
Don’t be afraid
I didn’t mean to scare you
So help me, Jesus
I can promise you
You’ll stay as beautiful
With dark hair
And soft skin…forever
Forever
Make up your mind
Make up your mind
And I’ll promise you
I will treat you well
My sweet angel
So help me, Jesus
(hey, hey, hey)
Give it up to me
Give it up to me
Do you wanna be
My angel?
So help me!
Be my angel
Be my angel
Do you wanna die?
I promise you
I will treat you well
My sweet angel
So help me, Jesus
Jesus
Jesus
Jesus…
And I burn,
–gloomchen
