This was one of my better shows in a while. I was in a really noisy mood that gave way to a need for industrial I haven't had in a while. I did a few rounds of punk from around the world which I like a lot (especially if I can get a multitude of languages in too)
ROUND ONE
the nips - all the time in the world (Ireland)
the ex - lied der steinklopfer (Holland)
naked raygun - system (Chicago)
mohammed rafi - jaan pehechaan ho
aesop rock - holy smokes
golem - mito
pantyraid - i wanna be your tiger
adam green - he's the brat
kompressor - represent
radio berlin - eyes like lenses
bunny brains - drugs no way
dadbot - free cake
general elektriks - facing that void
m.i.a. - pull up the people
cidinho & doca - cidade
nitzer ebb - join in the chant
andrew bird - banking on a myth
veronica lipgloss and the evil eyes - strip mall glass
roxy music - do the strand
paint line plane - open yr midnight
bgoom bip - soft & open
ROUND TWO
bad brains - fearless vampire killers (DC hardcore)
articles of faith - in this life (Chicago Hardcore)
television - friction (CBGB-era guitar hero NY punk)
the groovie ghoulies - the lost generation (Chicago pop-punk)
x-ray spex - germfree adolescents (First-Wave UK Punk)
tin hat trio - willow weep for me
mwc - certain fate
petra haden - i can see for miles
the clash - brand new cadillac
jello biafra w/ the melvins - enchanted thoughtfist
pedestrian - toss & turn
nouvelle vague - friday night, saturday morning
chai muasing - ghosts come and go
muddy waters - got my mojo workin
johnny cash - cocaine blues
the gossip - sleepers
devil in a woodpile - long way from home
ukrainians - cherez richku cherechay
rjd2 - exotic talk
defacto - fingertrap
why? - act five
dangermouse & jemini - track 1 (26" EP)
bullfrog feat. kid koala - reverse psychology
puffy amiyumi - tomodachi
robyn hitchcock & the Egyptians - vibrating
cex - get in yr squads
negativland - i still haven't found what i'm looking for
morissey - i have forgiven jesus
wolsheim - a million miles
roxy music - in every dream home a heartache
pest - cous cous
m83 - i'm happy she said
acid mothers temple - la le lo
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Sunday, September 25, 2005
the greatest show on urf
Show: the John Cage Musicircus
Location: the Museum of Contemporary Art
Cost: free
Things I missed to see it: The Rats at the South Side Punk Haus, Black Bear Combo and Quasaar Wut-Wut at the Darkroom (which happened much later but I was still fucking exhausted)
Dan Flavin's work explores color and space. Living space. In his current exhibit, he arranges colored fluorescents in different ways to completely transform rooms of the MCA. One room is entirely red, with a small prism behind the tube lights. Another is the same green you get from gas station bathrooms. It puts your head in a weird place. In the green room, there's a guy, an older gothindustrial cat licking a small plane of glass and rearranging the saliva with his tongue. On the floor, a grad student is making tick-marks in his sketch pad each time the guy flicks his tongue across the plane. This is the kinda shit that makes steam come outta Republican's ears. There was a little boy, a two-foot, blonde apple-cheeked thing standing at the top of the stairs. He was licking the air, mimicking the old man's movements. There's no way his parents are gonna be able to get him to stop for weeks. The sheer fact that a single American tax-dollar might be going towards something like this gives the GOP nightmares.
Today is the greatest fucking day of the year. Over a hundred musicians and performance artists converging on the MCA for the John Cage Musicircus. A free day of all things art, following a tradition started nearly forty years ago by composer John Cage. All of the Chicago stalwarts were there. At the start of the event, Environmental Encroachment was doing their funk-clown-marching band act on a ledge above the stairs. If you haven't seen them, you should. For the past six years they have been bar-none my favorite band to see live in the city. The original concept was that their concerts would be full stories, incorporating rhythm, music, tribal dance and theater into shows with a moral. "Tofishy vs. Squidbot" was about the perils genetically engineering food and was just about the greatest thing I've ever seen.
Inside, Terry Plumming zine and Princess were providing the noise. The Columbia College Vocal Ensemble were performing alongside some fierce djembe players; cheerleaders enticed you into a side room to chant along with men in alien jumpsuits; a woman dressed as Salvador Dali stuck handlebar moustaches to your face and drew your portrait on a post-it; a theorist wrote page after page on donated concepts, homemade instruments abounded: something that looked like a harp but wasn't, a man played a metal goblet with a bow, mic-ed through a host of effects; at least two theremin players courted spaceships and made me smile ear-to-ear; the big bad wolf gave Rorshack tests on a seesaw, and Insect Deli, in Ace bandages and underwear drew all the flashbulbs in the room her way. I couldn't even find some of the acts I was looking for, like Radiant Darling or a jazz group doing a full set of Zappa freakout.
When I ran into Rotten Milk in the mens room, he told me that this was the first time in years the MCA acted like it actually cared about the Chicago community. The last time was probably back when they did the all night jam on the solstice. Every facet of art in Chicago was covered and it spanned generations. Back in the day the place was packed. My friends' parents would dance to Brazilian music on the terrace out back, and come back the next morning for tai chi. Motherfuckers would get high in corners and stairwells and crash out watching the Video Ape and the TV Cowboy play short films in the theater. Redmoon turned the entire facade of the building into a two-story shadow puppet show. It was one of those magical evenings where nothing could go wrong.
Then it all got fucked up. Originally, they had only asked for a donation of two canned goods. Then, a few years ago, they changed it without realy warning people. They set up tables to collect the bags of cans people brought in for admission, and charged them anyway. I remember at one point, everyone I'd ever met was gathered in the park across the street trading forties and blunts. Gen Schock was drawing hand stamps on everyone with a Sharpie and the place filled up fast. There was a lull around 3 and I left to get some food. This is the conversation I heard on the redline.
Gangbanger: Hey, where's that party, where's that party at?
CTA Person: Excuse me?
Gangbanger: That party, that party at... the motherfuckin Art Institute and shit
So things got fucked up. A lot of the walls got tagged on and a fight broke out. I forget which photographer showed up that night (an older European guy who took aerial shots of raves and stock exchanges and made kaleidescopic mural prints of them) took a picture of blood dripping down one of his photos after this cat threw a bottle. That was the last one, it was the same year that Redmoon had top stop doing their Logan Square Halloween spectacle for similar reasons. It would be nice to think that the MCA may be able to pick up that torch again. And hopefully they could keep their shit together next time.
Location: the Museum of Contemporary Art
Cost: free
Things I missed to see it: The Rats at the South Side Punk Haus, Black Bear Combo and Quasaar Wut-Wut at the Darkroom (which happened much later but I was still fucking exhausted)
Dan Flavin's work explores color and space. Living space. In his current exhibit, he arranges colored fluorescents in different ways to completely transform rooms of the MCA. One room is entirely red, with a small prism behind the tube lights. Another is the same green you get from gas station bathrooms. It puts your head in a weird place. In the green room, there's a guy, an older gothindustrial cat licking a small plane of glass and rearranging the saliva with his tongue. On the floor, a grad student is making tick-marks in his sketch pad each time the guy flicks his tongue across the plane. This is the kinda shit that makes steam come outta Republican's ears. There was a little boy, a two-foot, blonde apple-cheeked thing standing at the top of the stairs. He was licking the air, mimicking the old man's movements. There's no way his parents are gonna be able to get him to stop for weeks. The sheer fact that a single American tax-dollar might be going towards something like this gives the GOP nightmares.
Today is the greatest fucking day of the year. Over a hundred musicians and performance artists converging on the MCA for the John Cage Musicircus. A free day of all things art, following a tradition started nearly forty years ago by composer John Cage. All of the Chicago stalwarts were there. At the start of the event, Environmental Encroachment was doing their funk-clown-marching band act on a ledge above the stairs. If you haven't seen them, you should. For the past six years they have been bar-none my favorite band to see live in the city. The original concept was that their concerts would be full stories, incorporating rhythm, music, tribal dance and theater into shows with a moral. "Tofishy vs. Squidbot" was about the perils genetically engineering food and was just about the greatest thing I've ever seen.
Inside, Terry Plumming zine and Princess were providing the noise. The Columbia College Vocal Ensemble were performing alongside some fierce djembe players; cheerleaders enticed you into a side room to chant along with men in alien jumpsuits; a woman dressed as Salvador Dali stuck handlebar moustaches to your face and drew your portrait on a post-it; a theorist wrote page after page on donated concepts, homemade instruments abounded: something that looked like a harp but wasn't, a man played a metal goblet with a bow, mic-ed through a host of effects; at least two theremin players courted spaceships and made me smile ear-to-ear; the big bad wolf gave Rorshack tests on a seesaw, and Insect Deli, in Ace bandages and underwear drew all the flashbulbs in the room her way. I couldn't even find some of the acts I was looking for, like Radiant Darling or a jazz group doing a full set of Zappa freakout.
When I ran into Rotten Milk in the mens room, he told me that this was the first time in years the MCA acted like it actually cared about the Chicago community. The last time was probably back when they did the all night jam on the solstice. Every facet of art in Chicago was covered and it spanned generations. Back in the day the place was packed. My friends' parents would dance to Brazilian music on the terrace out back, and come back the next morning for tai chi. Motherfuckers would get high in corners and stairwells and crash out watching the Video Ape and the TV Cowboy play short films in the theater. Redmoon turned the entire facade of the building into a two-story shadow puppet show. It was one of those magical evenings where nothing could go wrong.
Then it all got fucked up. Originally, they had only asked for a donation of two canned goods. Then, a few years ago, they changed it without realy warning people. They set up tables to collect the bags of cans people brought in for admission, and charged them anyway. I remember at one point, everyone I'd ever met was gathered in the park across the street trading forties and blunts. Gen Schock was drawing hand stamps on everyone with a Sharpie and the place filled up fast. There was a lull around 3 and I left to get some food. This is the conversation I heard on the redline.
Gangbanger: Hey, where's that party, where's that party at?
CTA Person: Excuse me?
Gangbanger: That party, that party at... the motherfuckin Art Institute and shit
So things got fucked up. A lot of the walls got tagged on and a fight broke out. I forget which photographer showed up that night (an older European guy who took aerial shots of raves and stock exchanges and made kaleidescopic mural prints of them) took a picture of blood dripping down one of his photos after this cat threw a bottle. That was the last one, it was the same year that Redmoon had top stop doing their Logan Square Halloween spectacle for similar reasons. It would be nice to think that the MCA may be able to pick up that torch again. And hopefully they could keep their shit together next time.
Friday, September 23, 2005
Millions of Dead Clubs
Bands: Raining Bricks, Chronic Seizure, IATTACK, Millions of Dead Cops
Venue: the Bottom Lounge
Things I missed to be there: Black Bear Combo at a gallery, the Herc variety hour with Lord of the Yum Yum and Rotten Milk
Reason I went: I needed to go to a good punk show after missing them for weeks
Price: $8
My father and I were talking about all the geezer punk acts doing reunion tours.
"If I was a young punk, and I saw one of these assholes touring again I'd pull them off the stage and fucking piss on em." I know, my Dad's a charming fellow. "When the first wave hit, they were pissin' on the Who for being bloated and old, and out of touch and they were only fucking thirty, and now these asholes are doing reunions?"
I'm not sure if I agree. A lot of these bands are just doing what they love to do, supporting the local youth scene wherever they go and generally organizing the community. ome of these guys are diehards, they didn't think they'd live this long so they didn't think to stop. They're keepers of the faith. But then, some are just in it to make a quick buck off some half-hit they had, butching about Raegan.
Either way, this is a good weekend for dinosaur punk. On Saturday, the Effigies are playing at the Note; on Monday, the Exploited are playing the Double Door, and tonight MDC played the Bottom Lounge. I don't like seeing shows at any of those places but for some reason I hate the Bottom Lounge the most. I can't say why, if it's the vibe or the drink prices or the crowd or what, but I pretty much refuse to pay for shows there. The CTA is grabbing the land and shutting down the Bottom Lounge. They plan to reopen in a location in the West Loop early next year, which could be awesome in that the Bottom Lounge would be the Southernmost big concert venue in the city, or it would just bring the same kind of suck further South.
Tonight, though...Millions of Dead Cops. Perhaps the greatest name in punk rock since Flux of Pink Indians. I missed the first band, Raining Bricks, but got there just in time for Chronic Seizure, a pretty by-the-book hardcore act featuring members of the Repos and the Rat Bastards. They didn't do anything for me but they did a pretty hot Angry Samoans cover towards the end of their set.
The third band was IATTACK, a skate punk band from the Pilsen/Little Village scene. Unlike a lot of their peers, they're pretty fairly apolitical. The only thing I can say bad about them is that they have a truly Hispanic sense of time. No, you can't be offended by that. I've seen a number of their sets cut short because one or more members of the band were missing by showtime. Their set was generously fifteen minutes long and fierce. They played five or six songs, ended with their theme song, and spent about the same time they spent on stage tearing down their set.
Millions of Dead Cops came out of Austin in 1981, and had all their original members on board for their 25th anniversary tour. After the first few songs I started to think that maybe my father was right. Unlike other old punks I've seen recently, like the Subhumans, the Damned, and Riistetyt, they haven't spent the last two decades mastering their instruments. It just wasn't that good. There was a medley of songs about dead cops, which was pretty entertaining, but it wasn't until they played a straight-up rockabilly song that I really gave a shit. Their punk songs sounded as raw as they ever did, and not half as good as they do on record, but the motherfuckers can play a country song. They played a set full of their own, erm... hits, like "John Wayne was a Nazi" and everyone went nuts. The Bottom Lounge turned on a light that illuminated the pit, and it really got the kids off and they went wild.
In the end, I got really drunk and really into it and then the Bottom Lounge kicked us out because they suck and it was an early show and they needed to let in all the Lucero fans.
Venue: the Bottom Lounge
Things I missed to be there: Black Bear Combo at a gallery, the Herc variety hour with Lord of the Yum Yum and Rotten Milk
Reason I went: I needed to go to a good punk show after missing them for weeks
Price: $8
My father and I were talking about all the geezer punk acts doing reunion tours.
"If I was a young punk, and I saw one of these assholes touring again I'd pull them off the stage and fucking piss on em." I know, my Dad's a charming fellow. "When the first wave hit, they were pissin' on the Who for being bloated and old, and out of touch and they were only fucking thirty, and now these asholes are doing reunions?"
I'm not sure if I agree. A lot of these bands are just doing what they love to do, supporting the local youth scene wherever they go and generally organizing the community. ome of these guys are diehards, they didn't think they'd live this long so they didn't think to stop. They're keepers of the faith. But then, some are just in it to make a quick buck off some half-hit they had, butching about Raegan.
Either way, this is a good weekend for dinosaur punk. On Saturday, the Effigies are playing at the Note; on Monday, the Exploited are playing the Double Door, and tonight MDC played the Bottom Lounge. I don't like seeing shows at any of those places but for some reason I hate the Bottom Lounge the most. I can't say why, if it's the vibe or the drink prices or the crowd or what, but I pretty much refuse to pay for shows there. The CTA is grabbing the land and shutting down the Bottom Lounge. They plan to reopen in a location in the West Loop early next year, which could be awesome in that the Bottom Lounge would be the Southernmost big concert venue in the city, or it would just bring the same kind of suck further South.
Tonight, though...Millions of Dead Cops. Perhaps the greatest name in punk rock since Flux of Pink Indians. I missed the first band, Raining Bricks, but got there just in time for Chronic Seizure, a pretty by-the-book hardcore act featuring members of the Repos and the Rat Bastards. They didn't do anything for me but they did a pretty hot Angry Samoans cover towards the end of their set.
The third band was IATTACK, a skate punk band from the Pilsen/Little Village scene. Unlike a lot of their peers, they're pretty fairly apolitical. The only thing I can say bad about them is that they have a truly Hispanic sense of time. No, you can't be offended by that. I've seen a number of their sets cut short because one or more members of the band were missing by showtime. Their set was generously fifteen minutes long and fierce. They played five or six songs, ended with their theme song, and spent about the same time they spent on stage tearing down their set.
Millions of Dead Cops came out of Austin in 1981, and had all their original members on board for their 25th anniversary tour. After the first few songs I started to think that maybe my father was right. Unlike other old punks I've seen recently, like the Subhumans, the Damned, and Riistetyt, they haven't spent the last two decades mastering their instruments. It just wasn't that good. There was a medley of songs about dead cops, which was pretty entertaining, but it wasn't until they played a straight-up rockabilly song that I really gave a shit. Their punk songs sounded as raw as they ever did, and not half as good as they do on record, but the motherfuckers can play a country song. They played a set full of their own, erm... hits, like "John Wayne was a Nazi" and everyone went nuts. The Bottom Lounge turned on a light that illuminated the pit, and it really got the kids off and they went wild.
In the end, I got really drunk and really into it and then the Bottom Lounge kicked us out because they suck and it was an early show and they needed to let in all the Lucero fans.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
the only man in chicago who hates babydolls as much as billy roberts
The Mutiny was the first bar I legally drank at. One Last Walk was playing their first show in a while there on my 21st birthday and John promised a half pitcher of whiskey. That night, Mike the Midget did a full standup act during what must have been the longest string change in history.
I love the Mutiny. Nothing ever goes right there. Last time I was there, the Wanderers were playing with Second Story Collapse. Andy , the Wanderers' singer, got really pissed because his drummer didn't show up. They tried to play with SSC's drummer but it ended up with Andy doin song after song of GG Allin covers the band didn't really know, with his nutsack pulled through his jeans.
Tonight was Fast Fast 45 and There Must Be Others, two bands apparently on the verge of merging. Fast Fast 45 was a two-piece that played straight-up rock. They didn't prepare for the show, their first in a while, but it came out decent. Bryan, who's among the better guitarists I've seen in the city, was doing a par job keeping the beat, while Briton was pulling some Lou Reed affectations with some touches of late-seventies CBGB Television-style yowling. They did a short set and Bryan stormed out, pissed off.
Fun.
There Must Be Others, now a one-piece, took the stage. This band was great, especially for their third show and third line-up. The band had gone from a trendy moog-driven synthnoise outfit to a thing of weirdness. Brian Other looks starved and crazy when he comes out on stage, with wild, thinning hair and bugged out eyes. He started with what he said was a Lionel Ritchie cover: "I'm Sorry For Unleashing the Horror that is my Daughter onto the unsuspecting Populace."
The song was played by a babydoll in a blender, on different settings and ended abruptly as the doll caught fire and filled the room with noxious gas and smoke. For the rest of the set, he played guitar and sang through a host of effects. The show had a real King Missile quality to it, at least until my girlfriend started getting nauseous from the fumes and we had to leave.
I love the Mutiny. Nothing ever goes right there. Last time I was there, the Wanderers were playing with Second Story Collapse. Andy , the Wanderers' singer, got really pissed because his drummer didn't show up. They tried to play with SSC's drummer but it ended up with Andy doin song after song of GG Allin covers the band didn't really know, with his nutsack pulled through his jeans.
Tonight was Fast Fast 45 and There Must Be Others, two bands apparently on the verge of merging. Fast Fast 45 was a two-piece that played straight-up rock. They didn't prepare for the show, their first in a while, but it came out decent. Bryan, who's among the better guitarists I've seen in the city, was doing a par job keeping the beat, while Briton was pulling some Lou Reed affectations with some touches of late-seventies CBGB Television-style yowling. They did a short set and Bryan stormed out, pissed off.
Fun.
There Must Be Others, now a one-piece, took the stage. This band was great, especially for their third show and third line-up. The band had gone from a trendy moog-driven synthnoise outfit to a thing of weirdness. Brian Other looks starved and crazy when he comes out on stage, with wild, thinning hair and bugged out eyes. He started with what he said was a Lionel Ritchie cover: "I'm Sorry For Unleashing the Horror that is my Daughter onto the unsuspecting Populace."
The song was played by a babydoll in a blender, on different settings and ended abruptly as the doll caught fire and filled the room with noxious gas and smoke. For the rest of the set, he played guitar and sang through a host of effects. The show had a real King Missile quality to it, at least until my girlfriend started getting nauseous from the fumes and we had to leave.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Dear RiotFest 2005,
Dear Riot Fest 2005,
You know that Minutemen song where Mike Watt goes like, "Punk rock saved my life"? Fuck yeah, Man. It's the same way right fuckin here with me. When I was younger I was aimless, adrift in a sea of gangster rap and radio metal. Then along came punk. It had always been there but it took thirteen long years for it to find its way to me. Without it, I'd surely be dead now.
Sure, I wasn't nothin better with it than I was before, just a vandal scumbag takin money from my parents an' tryin to cum on things but I had FOCUS. I truly believe in the transformative powers of punk rock. I am glad that your festival is bringing back bands like the Dead Kennedys and the Germs that even I never got to see. Punk is a young man's game and most of the kids have never been exposed to bands like this in a live setting because either their singers went and overdosed a couple decades ago or they're embroiled in contract disputes with the rest of their bandmates or because they're irrelevent dinosaurs who haven't written a song since Reagan left office.
None of that shit'll matter, though, once that guy from ER comes out onstage to the opening chords of "Lexicon Devil". Media blitz!
But I got to thinking. The Clash is probably my favourite band of all time. You can tell because I have that killer back patch on my army jacket. With Joe Strummer passed away, it looks like I may never get to see them live. That's just about more than I can bear, not just because of my loss but for all the little punks out there who don't know what they're missing. Well you know as well as I do that the only thing that seperates punk from all the other shit out there is the fierce DIY spirit that bands a bunch of nothingshits into a true force. I will take the bull by the horns, and offer hear and now to front the Clash MYSELF at your concert in November.
Don't worry, I know all the songs on "Combat Rock" and a good third of "Sandanista" and I'm free to practice every Wednesday night, so you give Mick and Paul a call and I'm ready. Oi! Motherfucker. 77 Style, yeah!
Sincerely,
Eric Strom
P.S. If the Clash have prior obligations I would also be willing to front GG Allin and the Murder Junkies, Jabbers, or AIDS Brigade.
You know that Minutemen song where Mike Watt goes like, "Punk rock saved my life"? Fuck yeah, Man. It's the same way right fuckin here with me. When I was younger I was aimless, adrift in a sea of gangster rap and radio metal. Then along came punk. It had always been there but it took thirteen long years for it to find its way to me. Without it, I'd surely be dead now.
Sure, I wasn't nothin better with it than I was before, just a vandal scumbag takin money from my parents an' tryin to cum on things but I had FOCUS. I truly believe in the transformative powers of punk rock. I am glad that your festival is bringing back bands like the Dead Kennedys and the Germs that even I never got to see. Punk is a young man's game and most of the kids have never been exposed to bands like this in a live setting because either their singers went and overdosed a couple decades ago or they're embroiled in contract disputes with the rest of their bandmates or because they're irrelevent dinosaurs who haven't written a song since Reagan left office.
None of that shit'll matter, though, once that guy from ER comes out onstage to the opening chords of "Lexicon Devil". Media blitz!
But I got to thinking. The Clash is probably my favourite band of all time. You can tell because I have that killer back patch on my army jacket. With Joe Strummer passed away, it looks like I may never get to see them live. That's just about more than I can bear, not just because of my loss but for all the little punks out there who don't know what they're missing. Well you know as well as I do that the only thing that seperates punk from all the other shit out there is the fierce DIY spirit that bands a bunch of nothingshits into a true force. I will take the bull by the horns, and offer hear and now to front the Clash MYSELF at your concert in November.
Don't worry, I know all the songs on "Combat Rock" and a good third of "Sandanista" and I'm free to practice every Wednesday night, so you give Mick and Paul a call and I'm ready. Oi! Motherfucker. 77 Style, yeah!
Sincerely,
Eric Strom
P.S. If the Clash have prior obligations I would also be willing to front GG Allin and the Murder Junkies, Jabbers, or AIDS Brigade.
unevening
The Screamers - 122 Hours
The Mohawks - Funk Broadway
Bleach - Raikou (Karekini Hanaa Sakani)
Non-Prophets - Damage
the Standelles - Why Pick On Me?
Phantomsmasher - scrolling sideways
Printer - American Dream
Printer - Goodnight
Jello Biafra and the Melvins - Halo of Flies
Rachel's - Forgiveness
Moist Boyz - the Spike
Urban Renewal Project - Wylin Out (k-kruz remix)
Marianne Faithful - Broken English
Atom & His Package - I'm Downright Amazed at What I Can Destroy With a Hammer
Pest - Delucid
Klaus Nomi - Total Eclipse
Patsy Cline - I don't Wanna
Royksopp - So Easy
Asylum Street Spankers - Breathin
Blondie - One Way or Another (live)
the New Process - More Mess on My Thing Pt. 2 (from Raw Funk)
Madvillain - Meat Grinder
XBXRX - Hope Until We Can't
Black Merda - Over and Over
Dresden Dolls - Bank of Boston Beauty Queen (live
the Juan Maclean - Dance Hall Generator Dub
Lee Scratch Perry - Dread Lion
Butter 08 - 9mm
Massive Attack - You've Never Had A Dream
Why? - Act Five
Billy Bragg - Accident Waiting to Happen
Bingo Gazingo & My Robot Friend - You're Out of the Computer (fromSongs in the Key of Z)
Rasputina - Secret Message
Tom Waits - Starving in the Belly of a Whale
Illogic - Live to Die
Lali Puna - Nin Com Poop
Nouvelle Vague - Guns of Brixton (Clash cover)
TV on the Radio - Walking the Cow (Daniel Johnston cover)
Kimya Dawson - Movin On
Handsome Boy Modeling School - Class System
Hisashi Yoshino & M.A.G.O. - Furimukuna
Saturday Looks Good to Me - Girl of Mine
Sigur Ros - Hopipolla
Butthole Surfers - 22 going on 23
Flying Luttbachers - Into the Vastness of Stupidity
Dillenger Escape Plan w Mike Patton - Come To Daddy (Aphex Twin cover)
Dee Lite - Groove is In the Heart
Devendra Banhart - Heard Somebody Say
the Cramps - I Was a Teenage Werewolf
DJ Shadow - Building Steam With a Grain of Salt
the Flaming Lips - One Million Billionth of a Millisecond on a Sunday Morning
Trouble Funk - A
The Mohawks - Funk Broadway
Bleach - Raikou (Karekini Hanaa Sakani)
Non-Prophets - Damage
the Standelles - Why Pick On Me?
Phantomsmasher - scrolling sideways
Printer - American Dream
Printer - Goodnight
Jello Biafra and the Melvins - Halo of Flies
Rachel's - Forgiveness
Moist Boyz - the Spike
Urban Renewal Project - Wylin Out (k-kruz remix)
Marianne Faithful - Broken English
Atom & His Package - I'm Downright Amazed at What I Can Destroy With a Hammer
Pest - Delucid
Klaus Nomi - Total Eclipse
Patsy Cline - I don't Wanna
Royksopp - So Easy
Asylum Street Spankers - Breathin
Blondie - One Way or Another (live)
the New Process - More Mess on My Thing Pt. 2 (from Raw Funk)
Madvillain - Meat Grinder
XBXRX - Hope Until We Can't
Black Merda - Over and Over
Dresden Dolls - Bank of Boston Beauty Queen (live
the Juan Maclean - Dance Hall Generator Dub
Lee Scratch Perry - Dread Lion
Butter 08 - 9mm
Massive Attack - You've Never Had A Dream
Why? - Act Five
Billy Bragg - Accident Waiting to Happen
Bingo Gazingo & My Robot Friend - You're Out of the Computer (fromSongs in the Key of Z)
Rasputina - Secret Message
Tom Waits - Starving in the Belly of a Whale
Illogic - Live to Die
Lali Puna - Nin Com Poop
Nouvelle Vague - Guns of Brixton (Clash cover)
TV on the Radio - Walking the Cow (Daniel Johnston cover)
Kimya Dawson - Movin On
Handsome Boy Modeling School - Class System
Hisashi Yoshino & M.A.G.O. - Furimukuna
Saturday Looks Good to Me - Girl of Mine
Sigur Ros - Hopipolla
Butthole Surfers - 22 going on 23
Flying Luttbachers - Into the Vastness of Stupidity
Dillenger Escape Plan w Mike Patton - Come To Daddy (Aphex Twin cover)
Dee Lite - Groove is In the Heart
Devendra Banhart - Heard Somebody Say
the Cramps - I Was a Teenage Werewolf
DJ Shadow - Building Steam With a Grain of Salt
the Flaming Lips - One Million Billionth of a Millisecond on a Sunday Morning
Trouble Funk - A
Sunday, September 18, 2005
bad moon rising 3
Third: Deus Ex Machina 3 (again)
How much: $5
Why: Puppets.
3D has rarely been good to me. Or you, or anybody. With the exception of Captain EO. That shit rocked. Otherwise it's pretty dismal. A couple of years ago some friends and I went to a 3D porno. I was expecting we'd be holding up umbrellas afraid that old Peter North was about to blow a few quarts at our faces. The whole affair was pretty tame. Not to mention the projectors were a little too far apart and we never achieved the real 3D effect. Don't get me wrong though; we were high, we heckled, laughed our asses off and had a hell of a time. It was just...disappointing.
The RubberMonkey guys are the only practitioners of 3D shadow puppetry. They achieve this by spacing out both a red and blue light to create the shadows. In past shows, like "Looong", they focused on a mix of shaddow puppetry, music and traditional European storytelling with a rod-puppet narrator. In their old collaborations with the Mammals theatre troupe, Boris Karloff's head appeared massive and impressive like the Wizard of Oz or a million Gods in a million issues of Heavy Metal magazine in 3-dimensions. The puppetry worked as more of a bridge between live action segments. It'd been a couple years since I'd seen them so I was excited when someone told me at the opening that I should come back the next night for a puppet show.
The show was all shadow puppets. Some were made of thick hinged cardboard and others were rod marionettes. The music was performed live by members of the Guild of Acquired Technology, who play instruments made from rewired electronics, mostly old children's toys from thrift stores. It was the first collaboration between the circuit bending and puppetry arms of RubberMonkey and, to be honest, it was less than the sum of its parts. The show had a pretty straightforward linear narrative, but I was too dumbshit to get it. There was a dragon, eating houses (as dragons are wont to do), and it either fell in love with some lady or ruined her life. And there were skeletons. The 3D worked half of the time and was a little jarring when it didn't and the music never seemed to come togethor. It all ended up in a heartless mesh of noise (and I don't mean that in a good way). The circuit benders instruments are pretty awesome creations but the majority of them are pretty limited and sometimes fall flat when it comes to performance time. Especially when you can't watch them at work. I'm not sure if the performance was improvised or not, but it didn't work (at least not for me). They're trying it again next week, with a more established show, The Palm Wine Drinkard. Also Lord of the YumYum, so ignore what I have to say and head out over there.
How much: $5
Why: Puppets.
3D has rarely been good to me. Or you, or anybody. With the exception of Captain EO. That shit rocked. Otherwise it's pretty dismal. A couple of years ago some friends and I went to a 3D porno. I was expecting we'd be holding up umbrellas afraid that old Peter North was about to blow a few quarts at our faces. The whole affair was pretty tame. Not to mention the projectors were a little too far apart and we never achieved the real 3D effect. Don't get me wrong though; we were high, we heckled, laughed our asses off and had a hell of a time. It was just...disappointing.
The RubberMonkey guys are the only practitioners of 3D shadow puppetry. They achieve this by spacing out both a red and blue light to create the shadows. In past shows, like "Looong", they focused on a mix of shaddow puppetry, music and traditional European storytelling with a rod-puppet narrator. In their old collaborations with the Mammals theatre troupe, Boris Karloff's head appeared massive and impressive like the Wizard of Oz or a million Gods in a million issues of Heavy Metal magazine in 3-dimensions. The puppetry worked as more of a bridge between live action segments. It'd been a couple years since I'd seen them so I was excited when someone told me at the opening that I should come back the next night for a puppet show.
The show was all shadow puppets. Some were made of thick hinged cardboard and others were rod marionettes. The music was performed live by members of the Guild of Acquired Technology, who play instruments made from rewired electronics, mostly old children's toys from thrift stores. It was the first collaboration between the circuit bending and puppetry arms of RubberMonkey and, to be honest, it was less than the sum of its parts. The show had a pretty straightforward linear narrative, but I was too dumbshit to get it. There was a dragon, eating houses (as dragons are wont to do), and it either fell in love with some lady or ruined her life. And there were skeletons. The 3D worked half of the time and was a little jarring when it didn't and the music never seemed to come togethor. It all ended up in a heartless mesh of noise (and I don't mean that in a good way). The circuit benders instruments are pretty awesome creations but the majority of them are pretty limited and sometimes fall flat when it comes to performance time. Especially when you can't watch them at work. I'm not sure if the performance was improvised or not, but it didn't work (at least not for me). They're trying it again next week, with a more established show, The Palm Wine Drinkard. Also Lord of the YumYum, so ignore what I have to say and head out over there.
bad moon rising 2
Second: Funkadesi at Angelfest II
When: 7:30
Things I missed to be there: Noise benefit at Enemy II, Pal and Doug Travis at Hollywood Mirror.
Reason I went: Seemed like the natural progression of my weekend
God bless Catholic Schools, not only are they the world's foremost producers of crazy girls who're great in bed but they have enough money to have big neighborhood festivals with beer and live bands. We didn't have that shit at public school. At Stone all we had was a fuckin cafetorium. I say give em more money, at least if they'll put up bands like Funkadesi. ESPECIALLY if they put up bands like Funkadesi who sing about Jah.
Funkadesi is one of my favorite local bands. Back in high school their EP was one of the cassettes that never left my mother's car (the others were Social Distortion's Self Titles, Black Sabbath's first, a Red Hot Chili Peppers/George Clinton mix, and the Tar Babies' "No Contest"). I would usually make people listen to "Piya Tu/Black Magic Woman" two or three times before I'd let em flip to side B. They're just a kick ass band. Their name is derived from the words 'funk' (no shit) and 'desi, a term that means something akin to 'countryman' in Sanskrit and something closer to 'Indian Party People' in local slang. Though I don't really know any Desi's who'd actually be seen at a Funkadesi show (they're more into hip-hop), the band is always a good time. Their music is a mix of funk, reggae, and traditional African, Cuban and Indian music. Today they were playing as a ten piece with old members joining in and a beautiful new singer who was playing her first gig with the band.
The band takes well to festivals, and don't play out enough otherwise. Their Summerdance appearance is the highlight of a lot of my friends' summer every year. It's not the enviroinment I usually find myself in at the beginning of a Saturday night, but it was pretty great. There were dozens of children running around, doing their oblivious childhood fun thing; there were a couple dozen cats chomping fat, black cigars and noddin their heads, and a couple hundred parents getting drunker and drunker til they were wooed on the dance floor. Old Catholics + beer + music = awesome. They were trying their hardest to match the movements of bassist Rahul Sharma as he danced and orchestrated the band. Overall, the band was a bit unwieldy with their new singer (who I am ten kinds of in love with) and extended lineup but they played fierce and fast and didn't fall into any of that cornball shit that defines a lot of what gets served up as world music these days. They'll be playing the Lotus festival next week. Go see them.
When: 7:30
Things I missed to be there: Noise benefit at Enemy II, Pal and Doug Travis at Hollywood Mirror.
Reason I went: Seemed like the natural progression of my weekend
God bless Catholic Schools, not only are they the world's foremost producers of crazy girls who're great in bed but they have enough money to have big neighborhood festivals with beer and live bands. We didn't have that shit at public school. At Stone all we had was a fuckin cafetorium. I say give em more money, at least if they'll put up bands like Funkadesi. ESPECIALLY if they put up bands like Funkadesi who sing about Jah.
Funkadesi is one of my favorite local bands. Back in high school their EP was one of the cassettes that never left my mother's car (the others were Social Distortion's Self Titles, Black Sabbath's first, a Red Hot Chili Peppers/George Clinton mix, and the Tar Babies' "No Contest"). I would usually make people listen to "Piya Tu/Black Magic Woman" two or three times before I'd let em flip to side B. They're just a kick ass band. Their name is derived from the words 'funk' (no shit) and 'desi, a term that means something akin to 'countryman' in Sanskrit and something closer to 'Indian Party People' in local slang. Though I don't really know any Desi's who'd actually be seen at a Funkadesi show (they're more into hip-hop), the band is always a good time. Their music is a mix of funk, reggae, and traditional African, Cuban and Indian music. Today they were playing as a ten piece with old members joining in and a beautiful new singer who was playing her first gig with the band.
The band takes well to festivals, and don't play out enough otherwise. Their Summerdance appearance is the highlight of a lot of my friends' summer every year. It's not the enviroinment I usually find myself in at the beginning of a Saturday night, but it was pretty great. There were dozens of children running around, doing their oblivious childhood fun thing; there were a couple dozen cats chomping fat, black cigars and noddin their heads, and a couple hundred parents getting drunker and drunker til they were wooed on the dance floor. Old Catholics + beer + music = awesome. They were trying their hardest to match the movements of bassist Rahul Sharma as he danced and orchestrated the band. Overall, the band was a bit unwieldy with their new singer (who I am ten kinds of in love with) and extended lineup but they played fierce and fast and didn't fall into any of that cornball shit that defines a lot of what gets served up as world music these days. They'll be playing the Lotus festival next week. Go see them.
bad moon rising 1
Yo, everytime I post on this blog, I get inundated with spam. Fake comments make baby Lab Rats cry. C'est levie. Another saturday night.
First: Some kickass Uptown Hair Salon on Broadway and Wilsonn (5pm)
What: MC battle on the street
Me and Pinky are driving around and we see this crowd of like fifty people crowded around this line of stores on Broadway. We jump out to see what's going on, and it's seriously the worst battle I've ever heard. There was a DJ who was pretty good, and these two guys (a big one from Uptown and a little one from Rogers Park) are battling. Every time the redline passes overhead, they stop. All of them. The rappers, the DJ. We all just wait. This cat from Uptown Bikes tells us that this is the final match and this is the best the little guy can come up with:
"You look like/ a girl named Erica!/You look like a car-toon CHARACTAH"
Yeah motherfucker, that was awesome. Thank you.
First: Some kickass Uptown Hair Salon on Broadway and Wilsonn (5pm)
What: MC battle on the street
Me and Pinky are driving around and we see this crowd of like fifty people crowded around this line of stores on Broadway. We jump out to see what's going on, and it's seriously the worst battle I've ever heard. There was a DJ who was pretty good, and these two guys (a big one from Uptown and a little one from Rogers Park) are battling. Every time the redline passes overhead, they stop. All of them. The rappers, the DJ. We all just wait. This cat from Uptown Bikes tells us that this is the final match and this is the best the little guy can come up with:
"You look like/ a girl named Erica!/You look like a car-toon CHARACTAH"
Yeah motherfucker, that was awesome. Thank you.
Saturday, September 17, 2005
cd review: Dadbot
True Story
Me: Hi, Do you have anything that sounds like Atom & his Package fronting an all-cracker version of TV on the Radio?
Record Store Guy: Sure [hands me Dadbot cd]
Me: How is it?
RSG: It has some great moments, but between the passe laptronica pop, the wack lyrics, and the cardboard sleeve, you'll forget you have this in two months' time.
Me: Oh. Um. Are all the tracks clean?
RSG: Cleaner than your Mom.
Me: Cool.
RSG: I'm gonna go smoke some heroin.
Me: Hi, Do you have anything that sounds like Atom & his Package fronting an all-cracker version of TV on the Radio?
Record Store Guy: Sure [hands me Dadbot cd]
Me: How is it?
RSG: It has some great moments, but between the passe laptronica pop, the wack lyrics, and the cardboard sleeve, you'll forget you have this in two months' time.
Me: Oh. Um. Are all the tracks clean?
RSG: Cleaner than your Mom.
Me: Cool.
RSG: I'm gonna go smoke some heroin.
the way things are and the way things should be
Event 1: Deus Ex Machina 3 at the Peter Jones Gallery (FREE)
Event 2: Saddle Champ at Bar Vertigo ($5)
Event 3: the costume party that wasn't
Things I missed to get there: Minibosses and Moistboyz at DoubleDoor, noise benefit at Enemy, Redmoon show, exgirlfriend's bodypaint party
Reasons I went: Robots, the thickness of my blood v. the thickness of water, fall is a time to reminisce (sic)
Noise enthusiasts and experimental artists are among the most interesting people you'll ever meet, and the worst conversationalists as well. That is why you make the booze cheap. For the third installment of RubberMonkeyPuppetCompany's celebration of Machines and Art they've moved back to Ravenswood, in a tucked away warehouse space on Cuyler. Among the things you'll see is a paint catapault (representing the most primal robots), an adding machine that reads the surface of a jar of water to paint seascapes, and a television built into a tidycat container that breaks down everything it sees into a dozen pantone squares. It's extremely minimalist and extremely complicated at the same time. Most of the art on the walls has never been influenced by human hands (with the exception of changing batteries and brushes). It is a festival of humans making machines making art.
For the opening reception, they loaded up on rum, Old Style and disgusting white castle cheese burgers which everyone consumed with looks of shame on their faces. Bands and video artists performed behind a curtain and asked for a 5 buck donation but everything else was free. There were slips of paper everywhere encouraging you to bid in the silent auction. Some of the art looked like Pollack, some looked like Spirograph. Shannon Korchinski dipped a robotic hand in paint and loosed it on a piece of paper. It maneuvered like you'd expect Thing Addams to move if it was binging on gin. She picked it back up off its side a dozen times before unleashing a n arachnid cupie doll reminiscent of Toy Story. It was an event done the way events should be done, I'll probably go back tonight for one of Patrick McCarthy's 3d shadow puppet shows or next week for Paul Velat (Lord of the YumYum).
Fearing an early case of White Castle shits would cripple my evening if I stuck around, I left early. My cousin's bands, Saddle Champ and Crispus Attucks, were playing at Bar Vertigo. Saddle Champ was his country band. They played really accessible (pop?) altcountry. The guitarist had a serious David Lowery vibe; it was all a little late Meat Puppets/Eyes Adrift. We didn't stay for Crispus Attucks, which is a shame because they're a lot of fun. They march out in tri cornered hats and minuteman coats and intersperse songs like "Ring My Bell" and "Surfin USA" to Revolutionary War themed songs like "Liberty Bell" and "Sunshine for Democracy." Come to think of it, there's a bit of Camper Van Beethoven to their music. Go David Lowery! (Even if that last Cracker album did suck serious ass)
We ended up lost in a neighborhood I thought I knew front to back. I guess it's been a few years since I've lived in Logan Square and I was punching the steering wheel, all pissed off, uptight and 'Where the fuck is Medill?"
Yahoo directions, I will eat you.
We finally got there and there wasn't too much costume. There was a Spiderman, an Andre 3000, a girl on girl Robin Hood and Maid Marion. The hostess was Marisa, a girl I taught improv when she was 15 or 16 and I was 18, just outta high school. She was dressed as Lisa Simpson but her Liberty spikes had fallen by the time I got there. It was her 21st birthday; she's damn near the last to go. The place was packed with old heads, all these cats who were the underraged kids at my old parties were legal. All these old Kokomo kids and Fireside kids and Wicker Park heads. Artsy fuckers who went to magnet schools, LP and Lakeview and Northside Country Dayschool, a bunch of great motherfuckers I've known for years now. It was odd to see them all still in the same groups, but it was good, too. I'll be 23 next week, and it'll be nice to see all the same fucking people I see every other weekend, and have it be every bit and not at all special.
Event 2: Saddle Champ at Bar Vertigo ($5)
Event 3: the costume party that wasn't
Things I missed to get there: Minibosses and Moistboyz at DoubleDoor, noise benefit at Enemy, Redmoon show, exgirlfriend's bodypaint party
Reasons I went: Robots, the thickness of my blood v. the thickness of water, fall is a time to reminisce (sic)
Noise enthusiasts and experimental artists are among the most interesting people you'll ever meet, and the worst conversationalists as well. That is why you make the booze cheap. For the third installment of RubberMonkeyPuppetCompany's celebration of Machines and Art they've moved back to Ravenswood, in a tucked away warehouse space on Cuyler. Among the things you'll see is a paint catapault (representing the most primal robots), an adding machine that reads the surface of a jar of water to paint seascapes, and a television built into a tidycat container that breaks down everything it sees into a dozen pantone squares. It's extremely minimalist and extremely complicated at the same time. Most of the art on the walls has never been influenced by human hands (with the exception of changing batteries and brushes). It is a festival of humans making machines making art.
For the opening reception, they loaded up on rum, Old Style and disgusting white castle cheese burgers which everyone consumed with looks of shame on their faces. Bands and video artists performed behind a curtain and asked for a 5 buck donation but everything else was free. There were slips of paper everywhere encouraging you to bid in the silent auction. Some of the art looked like Pollack, some looked like Spirograph. Shannon Korchinski dipped a robotic hand in paint and loosed it on a piece of paper. It maneuvered like you'd expect Thing Addams to move if it was binging on gin. She picked it back up off its side a dozen times before unleashing a n arachnid cupie doll reminiscent of Toy Story. It was an event done the way events should be done, I'll probably go back tonight for one of Patrick McCarthy's 3d shadow puppet shows or next week for Paul Velat (Lord of the YumYum).
Fearing an early case of White Castle shits would cripple my evening if I stuck around, I left early. My cousin's bands, Saddle Champ and Crispus Attucks, were playing at Bar Vertigo. Saddle Champ was his country band. They played really accessible (pop?) altcountry. The guitarist had a serious David Lowery vibe; it was all a little late Meat Puppets/Eyes Adrift. We didn't stay for Crispus Attucks, which is a shame because they're a lot of fun. They march out in tri cornered hats and minuteman coats and intersperse songs like "Ring My Bell" and "Surfin USA" to Revolutionary War themed songs like "Liberty Bell" and "Sunshine for Democracy." Come to think of it, there's a bit of Camper Van Beethoven to their music. Go David Lowery! (Even if that last Cracker album did suck serious ass)
We ended up lost in a neighborhood I thought I knew front to back. I guess it's been a few years since I've lived in Logan Square and I was punching the steering wheel, all pissed off, uptight and 'Where the fuck is Medill?"
Yahoo directions, I will eat you.
We finally got there and there wasn't too much costume. There was a Spiderman, an Andre 3000, a girl on girl Robin Hood and Maid Marion. The hostess was Marisa, a girl I taught improv when she was 15 or 16 and I was 18, just outta high school. She was dressed as Lisa Simpson but her Liberty spikes had fallen by the time I got there. It was her 21st birthday; she's damn near the last to go. The place was packed with old heads, all these cats who were the underraged kids at my old parties were legal. All these old Kokomo kids and Fireside kids and Wicker Park heads. Artsy fuckers who went to magnet schools, LP and Lakeview and Northside Country Dayschool, a bunch of great motherfuckers I've known for years now. It was odd to see them all still in the same groups, but it was good, too. I'll be 23 next week, and it'll be nice to see all the same fucking people I see every other weekend, and have it be every bit and not at all special.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
9/13/05 [wluw]
Articles of Faith - I've Got Mine
As Mercenarias - Inmigo (from The Sexual Life of Savages)
Akira S Et as Garotas Que Erraram - Eudirijo O Carro Bomba (from The Sexual Life of Savages)
Viparat Piensuwan - Mia Chaa (from Thai Beat A Go Go Vol. 2
the Kinks - Two Sisters
Divine - Jungle Jezebel
14 yr Old Girls - Slush Puppy
Agent Orange - Living in Darkness
Friend and Doctor Kosmos - I Love You (Huh)
Mong Hang - Fingers
Mau Chao - La Vie IE
DJ Spooky and Dave Lombardo - A Darker Shade of Bleak
Arizona Amp & Alternator - Where the Wind turns the Skin to Leather
50 Herz feat Haxor och porr, slagsmalsklubbin - Army of Djur (Bjork cover from Army of Me)
Jake Shimbakuro - Shake It Up!
The Soft Boys - You'll Have to Go Sideways
The Delays - Ride It On (Mazzy Star cover from Stop Me If You've Heard this One Before)
Storm Inc. - Rape Me (Nirvana cover from Nearvana)
Murder By Death -Those Who Stayed
The Vindictives - the Invisible Man
Las Guitarras de Espana - Chicago [Rumbas]
King Missile - The Neither World
Her Space Holiday - Forever and a Day
OOIOO - I'm a Song
Why? - Act Five
here I started to play a Violent Femmes song but it was a grating acoustic version of American Music" that I thought didn't deserve to follow the superb Why? song. This allowed me a chance to ramble off for a bit too.
The Weekends - I want You (fucking awesome track from the fucking fantastic Girls in the Garage pt. 2)
The Violent Femmes - Gimme the Car
Apocalypse Hoboken - Misguided Memories (Freeze cover)
Blind Willie McTell - Lonesome Day Blues
Madlib - Where Do I Go (from the Free Design: the Now Sound Resigned)
A Moving Sound Theatre - Mongani
The Dead Milkmen - Surfin Cow
Butthole Surfers - Jingle of A Dog's Collar
Layton - Tu Le Jours (from Homemade Hits, V.1)
Gang of Four - Outside the Trains Don't Run On Time
Purple Wizard - I Idolize You
The Morlocks - Get Out of My Life, Woman
the Fugue - Gunwolf
Negativland - Downloading
Kenny Rogers - What Condition My Condition Was In
Odd Nosdam - 11th Ave Freakout Pt. 2
The Last Poets - White Man's Got a God Complex
Nobody - the coast is clear (for fireworks)
Johnny Cash - Country Boy
Nico - Ari's Song
Noisettes - Don't Give Up
Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy - Television, Drug of the Nation
Nicole Meyer - Nowhere by MIR (from Girlz: Women Ahead of their Time
Amadou & Mariam - Coulibaly
Pink Floyd - Lucifer Sam
fulanito - merencumblanco (from Future World Funk on the run
Lord of the Yum Yum - Rossini's William Tell Overture
As Mercenarias - Inmigo (from The Sexual Life of Savages)
Akira S Et as Garotas Que Erraram - Eudirijo O Carro Bomba (from The Sexual Life of Savages)
Viparat Piensuwan - Mia Chaa (from Thai Beat A Go Go Vol. 2
the Kinks - Two Sisters
Divine - Jungle Jezebel
14 yr Old Girls - Slush Puppy
Agent Orange - Living in Darkness
Friend and Doctor Kosmos - I Love You (Huh)
Mong Hang - Fingers
Mau Chao - La Vie IE
DJ Spooky and Dave Lombardo - A Darker Shade of Bleak
Arizona Amp & Alternator - Where the Wind turns the Skin to Leather
50 Herz feat Haxor och porr, slagsmalsklubbin - Army of Djur (Bjork cover from Army of Me)
Jake Shimbakuro - Shake It Up!
The Soft Boys - You'll Have to Go Sideways
The Delays - Ride It On (Mazzy Star cover from Stop Me If You've Heard this One Before)
Storm Inc. - Rape Me (Nirvana cover from Nearvana)
Murder By Death -Those Who Stayed
The Vindictives - the Invisible Man
Las Guitarras de Espana - Chicago [Rumbas]
King Missile - The Neither World
Her Space Holiday - Forever and a Day
OOIOO - I'm a Song
Why? - Act Five
here I started to play a Violent Femmes song but it was a grating acoustic version of American Music" that I thought didn't deserve to follow the superb Why? song. This allowed me a chance to ramble off for a bit too.
The Weekends - I want You (fucking awesome track from the fucking fantastic Girls in the Garage pt. 2)
The Violent Femmes - Gimme the Car
Apocalypse Hoboken - Misguided Memories (Freeze cover)
Blind Willie McTell - Lonesome Day Blues
Madlib - Where Do I Go (from the Free Design: the Now Sound Resigned)
A Moving Sound Theatre - Mongani
The Dead Milkmen - Surfin Cow
Butthole Surfers - Jingle of A Dog's Collar
Layton - Tu Le Jours (from Homemade Hits, V.1)
Gang of Four - Outside the Trains Don't Run On Time
Purple Wizard - I Idolize You
The Morlocks - Get Out of My Life, Woman
the Fugue - Gunwolf
Negativland - Downloading
Kenny Rogers - What Condition My Condition Was In
Odd Nosdam - 11th Ave Freakout Pt. 2
The Last Poets - White Man's Got a God Complex
Nobody - the coast is clear (for fireworks)
Johnny Cash - Country Boy
Nico - Ari's Song
Noisettes - Don't Give Up
Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy - Television, Drug of the Nation
Nicole Meyer - Nowhere by MIR (from Girlz: Women Ahead of their Time
Amadou & Mariam - Coulibaly
Pink Floyd - Lucifer Sam
fulanito - merencumblanco (from Future World Funk on the run
Lord of the Yum Yum - Rossini's William Tell Overture
Monday, September 12, 2005
The Caribou, the Impala, and the Mollusk
Remember that chick in high school whose Dad was a personal trainer? She was mousey and quiet and really attainable even though she could do gymnastics and shit, but to date her you'd have to have dinner with her family first? So you'd go to her creepy house with a torture-chamber looking workout room in the basement and you're sweating balls at the table with your hands folded and this big bald motherfucker steps in with a carving knife and he's so fucking intense- even when he's being nice, even when he's chatting- asbout everything he says that you jet out of there as soon as you finish the extra slice of pie her Mom baked you and you don't even kiss her goodbye because you know that you'll never, ever be able to get it up for her again?
That's what seeing a Henry Rollins spoken word show is like. It just leaves you fucking impotent for a couple hours. Monday night he performed at Columbia College for an audience of 250, which meant it took a good 20 minutes for the room to stop laughing extra hard at every single thing he said and just that long for me to get the cynical chip off my shoulder and enjoy the show. He's a good performer, he's kinda like the dumb punk's Jello Biafra (albeit way more open minded) or maybe Susan Powter's male counterpart, or the lder brother that liked to prove he was the smart and down to Earth one as he beat the shit out of little kid Dennis Miller.
He always does well in Chicago. One of the discs of "Think Tank" was recorded at the House of Blues here. He's just so intense (there's no other word). When Jello Biafra gave a talk at Loyola a couple years back, they had to pull him off the stage after over three hours. Roillins is the same way, unrelenting, except he puts the same intensity towards whatever he's saying so the bureaucratic bungling of Hurricane Katrina is weighted the same as masturbating on the Trans Siberian express, or Dave Barry-ish tales about taking care of a friend's toddler for 20 minutes or comically mistranslated signs in Japan. He brought the house down early calling Barbara Bush the "6 nippled, hairy chested mother of our president". There was no real way to top that, but he kept going, and nobody wanted him to leave any more than he did.
I saw a bunch of cats from the reading that night at the empty bottle, where the aptly titled honky tonk whiskey rockers Hony played with the more sludgey Nebula. Older girls with sleeve jobs, all beautiful. Everyone was a small catalyst away from throwing shit, but it was still the empty bottle so they mostly just stood still. There was still some serious hootin/holerin for theserious beards in Honky, which outshined Nebula a great deal. One question: is it a new fashion in the fake ID crowd to dress to the nines below the belt but dress like a lumberjack's wife above? Iunno, good times.
Cost: Free
What I missed: Environmental Encroachment pirate parade in Wicker Park
Reason I went: Geographic proximity to yogaclass
That's what seeing a Henry Rollins spoken word show is like. It just leaves you fucking impotent for a couple hours. Monday night he performed at Columbia College for an audience of 250, which meant it took a good 20 minutes for the room to stop laughing extra hard at every single thing he said and just that long for me to get the cynical chip off my shoulder and enjoy the show. He's a good performer, he's kinda like the dumb punk's Jello Biafra (albeit way more open minded) or maybe Susan Powter's male counterpart, or the lder brother that liked to prove he was the smart and down to Earth one as he beat the shit out of little kid Dennis Miller.
He always does well in Chicago. One of the discs of "Think Tank" was recorded at the House of Blues here. He's just so intense (there's no other word). When Jello Biafra gave a talk at Loyola a couple years back, they had to pull him off the stage after over three hours. Roillins is the same way, unrelenting, except he puts the same intensity towards whatever he's saying so the bureaucratic bungling of Hurricane Katrina is weighted the same as masturbating on the Trans Siberian express, or Dave Barry-ish tales about taking care of a friend's toddler for 20 minutes or comically mistranslated signs in Japan. He brought the house down early calling Barbara Bush the "6 nippled, hairy chested mother of our president". There was no real way to top that, but he kept going, and nobody wanted him to leave any more than he did.
I saw a bunch of cats from the reading that night at the empty bottle, where the aptly titled honky tonk whiskey rockers Hony played with the more sludgey Nebula. Older girls with sleeve jobs, all beautiful. Everyone was a small catalyst away from throwing shit, but it was still the empty bottle so they mostly just stood still. There was still some serious hootin/holerin for theserious beards in Honky, which outshined Nebula a great deal. One question: is it a new fashion in the fake ID crowd to dress to the nines below the belt but dress like a lumberjack's wife above? Iunno, good times.
Cost: Free
What I missed: Environmental Encroachment pirate parade in Wicker Park
Reason I went: Geographic proximity to yogaclass
Sunday, September 11, 2005
Gutterpop. Bubbles up my Nose
Bands: The Violent Femmes, the Tossers
Date: 9/10/05
Venue: Wicker Park street fair
Things I missed to see the show: tras de nada, disrobe, no slogan, intifada at the South Side punk house, a buncha under 21 bands fighting for a RiotFest slot at a Ukranian American Hall, Gabby LaLa and Particle at someplace legitimate, and a crew of girls Mudwrestling in Wicker Park.
Cost: Free
Why I went: Poverty, sentiment
I used to live in a flophouse. I talk about it ad nauseum. Ten or more of us at any given time, stuffed into a three bedroom stuffed into a sixflat in Andersonville. Through it all there were only two cds that everyone would always agree with. One was the copy of the Violent Femmes' Greatest Hits that I bought used in eight grade. The other was a Violent Femmes sampler Ken burned for his girlfriend and kept for himself. If we put either album on at just the right time, it would be with us all week. We'd be blind drunk stumbling through alleys with "American Music" on our lips.
They're an underrated band, stuck on the street fair circuit. Back in 98 or 99, you couldn't walk down a street in the summer without coming across the band Cracker. That is where the Violent Femmes are now. They're an 80s nostalgia act, and they don't sound enough like Gang of Four to cash in on it. I've seen them four times now; thrice at festivals and once at some bloated Q101 holiday bill with Weezer, Sheryl Crow, Gravity Kills and Korn. It's too bad, because they're real fun to watch. Gordan Gano still works Billy Corgan's voice better than the Pumpkin ever could, and he can sell some of the dumbest lyrics you've ever heard if he needs to. They're a real rocknroll band. Fun shit for the sake of fun shit with touches of country and gospel and saxophone jazz freakouts. They even play 'Blister in the Sun' third or fourth in their set so Yuppies can get home early.
I've heard that their shows are either mind blowing or unlistenable, with no inbetween. To this point I'd only seen them play the former. I guess they broke new ground today with a completely mediocre set. They were a three piece today but I've seen them with four and five and seven before. I've seen them stoned to shit on pot and opium, banshee drunk and dead sober. All those times, they've been able to knock me on my ass, even in a sea of graduated frat boys and dollar-an-ounce beer.
Maybe the band's showing their age. Residue from the Stones show last week still in the air or something. They just didn't sound right. Their drummer could still wail, so could Gano and so could the bassist, just not at the same time. They seemed more like a really confident cover band. With a real good crowd response. They reminded me of the Night Watchmen, that group of dirty old fuckers that rocked the Lakeview Lounge til it closed recently. Unfortunately, what works at 3 AM in a bar in Edgewater can't keep me up at a street fest on Division. My girlfriend, was brought to tears when the band played 'You Are My Sunshine' nut it had nothing to do with how they played it (bad). She was tugging at my sleeve and rolling her eyes soon after. We left during the opening strains of 'Add It Up' and didn't look back.
One time in high school, I went to the Fireside Bowl. Many times actually but this time I was there to see one of my teachers' bands, the Phantom Three. I don't know if I fucked up or they did but I was treated to two bands I'd never heard before: The Tossers and Mary Tyler Morphine. Immediately they became two of my favorite bands to see live and I would as often as I could. At that point I had never heard of the Pogues. Shane McGowan had gone all country on my Dad's mix cds and I'd never seen a punk band pull out a tin whistle or an electric violin.I was enthralled. It was just about the coolest thing I'd ever seen.
I was excited when I found out they'd be playing in walking distance. I left late and Sarah left late and somehow we got there just as they were starting their set. They were playing some old shit. Dancin Shoes. Buckets of Beer. I watched new groups of highschoolers push through the crowd, leaping like maniacs to the front for some Celt moshing, but I just wasn't into it. Maybe it was the crowd. Maybe the sun, or the heat. They launched into 'The Crutch' and nothing; no fistpumping, no 'Oi!', just watching. There was something wrong, it was a band I used to love, playing fierce versions of songs I liked and I couldn't give a shit. So we left, for cheese fries and art in the former Buddy gallery, shrugging and vowing to come back for the Violent Femmes.
I hate fuckin streetfairs.
Date: 9/10/05
Venue: Wicker Park street fair
Things I missed to see the show: tras de nada, disrobe, no slogan, intifada at the South Side punk house, a buncha under 21 bands fighting for a RiotFest slot at a Ukranian American Hall, Gabby LaLa and Particle at someplace legitimate, and a crew of girls Mudwrestling in Wicker Park.
Cost: Free
Why I went: Poverty, sentiment
I used to live in a flophouse. I talk about it ad nauseum. Ten or more of us at any given time, stuffed into a three bedroom stuffed into a sixflat in Andersonville. Through it all there were only two cds that everyone would always agree with. One was the copy of the Violent Femmes' Greatest Hits that I bought used in eight grade. The other was a Violent Femmes sampler Ken burned for his girlfriend and kept for himself. If we put either album on at just the right time, it would be with us all week. We'd be blind drunk stumbling through alleys with "American Music" on our lips.
They're an underrated band, stuck on the street fair circuit. Back in 98 or 99, you couldn't walk down a street in the summer without coming across the band Cracker. That is where the Violent Femmes are now. They're an 80s nostalgia act, and they don't sound enough like Gang of Four to cash in on it. I've seen them four times now; thrice at festivals and once at some bloated Q101 holiday bill with Weezer, Sheryl Crow, Gravity Kills and Korn. It's too bad, because they're real fun to watch. Gordan Gano still works Billy Corgan's voice better than the Pumpkin ever could, and he can sell some of the dumbest lyrics you've ever heard if he needs to. They're a real rocknroll band. Fun shit for the sake of fun shit with touches of country and gospel and saxophone jazz freakouts. They even play 'Blister in the Sun' third or fourth in their set so Yuppies can get home early.
I've heard that their shows are either mind blowing or unlistenable, with no inbetween. To this point I'd only seen them play the former. I guess they broke new ground today with a completely mediocre set. They were a three piece today but I've seen them with four and five and seven before. I've seen them stoned to shit on pot and opium, banshee drunk and dead sober. All those times, they've been able to knock me on my ass, even in a sea of graduated frat boys and dollar-an-ounce beer.
Maybe the band's showing their age. Residue from the Stones show last week still in the air or something. They just didn't sound right. Their drummer could still wail, so could Gano and so could the bassist, just not at the same time. They seemed more like a really confident cover band. With a real good crowd response. They reminded me of the Night Watchmen, that group of dirty old fuckers that rocked the Lakeview Lounge til it closed recently. Unfortunately, what works at 3 AM in a bar in Edgewater can't keep me up at a street fest on Division. My girlfriend, was brought to tears when the band played 'You Are My Sunshine' nut it had nothing to do with how they played it (bad). She was tugging at my sleeve and rolling her eyes soon after. We left during the opening strains of 'Add It Up' and didn't look back.
One time in high school, I went to the Fireside Bowl. Many times actually but this time I was there to see one of my teachers' bands, the Phantom Three. I don't know if I fucked up or they did but I was treated to two bands I'd never heard before: The Tossers and Mary Tyler Morphine. Immediately they became two of my favorite bands to see live and I would as often as I could. At that point I had never heard of the Pogues. Shane McGowan had gone all country on my Dad's mix cds and I'd never seen a punk band pull out a tin whistle or an electric violin.I was enthralled. It was just about the coolest thing I'd ever seen.
I was excited when I found out they'd be playing in walking distance. I left late and Sarah left late and somehow we got there just as they were starting their set. They were playing some old shit. Dancin Shoes. Buckets of Beer. I watched new groups of highschoolers push through the crowd, leaping like maniacs to the front for some Celt moshing, but I just wasn't into it. Maybe it was the crowd. Maybe the sun, or the heat. They launched into 'The Crutch' and nothing; no fistpumping, no 'Oi!', just watching. There was something wrong, it was a band I used to love, playing fierce versions of songs I liked and I couldn't give a shit. So we left, for cheese fries and art in the former Buddy gallery, shrugging and vowing to come back for the Violent Femmes.
I hate fuckin streetfairs.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
WLUW September 6, 2005
stag party - rachel (my dear)
why? - sanddollars
russian futurists - paul simon
big black - passing complexion
roots manuva - awfully deep
quintron - festive
dwight trible & the life force trio - the tenth jewel
ry cooder and manuel galban - caballo viejo
dance disaster movement - hello
don byron & existential dred - blinky
noisettes - don't give up
clem snide - better
andrew bird's bowl of fire - 50 pieces
nouvelle vague - in a manner of speaking (tuxedo moon cover)
ukrainians - koroleva ne polermo (smiths cover - the queen is dead)
minibosses - nija gaiden (nintendo cover)
penny wineblood - jc's nuts
the groodies - head rape
evelyn - so so fresh
too much joy - take a lot of drugs
daedelus - a sneaking suspicion
sam phillips - i wanted to be alone
balkan beat box - 9/4 the ladies
hillbilly hellcats - double time (Black Jacket Racket)
Friends of Dean Martinez - So well remembered
RL Burnside - shake em on down
the negro problem (bobby fuller four cover)
mr. scruff - limbic funk
die sterne - widerschein
the residents - two lips
nutley brass - teenage lobotomy (ramones cover)
nick cave & the bad seeds - deanna
dave crimmen - baby shake it up
the hellhounds - wartime blues (blind lemon jefferson cover)
omar a rodriguez lopez - deus ex machina
servotron - i sing! the body cybernetic
boom bip - first walk
nomo - movin in circles
blonde redhead - 10
autechre - fermium
gaetano fabri vs kocari orkestra - siki siki baba
cosmic corridors - dark path
crappy Cracker song
temple - black light
descendents - myage
mc paul barman - joy
matthew shipp - pulsar
dion and the belmonts - runaround sue
lullaby for the working class - hypnotist
ian dury - sex & drugs & rocknroll
zykos - mrs
amadou & mariam - senegal fast food
kanda - they'll need cocaine
sylvie lewis - rockwell's blues
deformo - rich kid
patti smith - tramplin
domenico + 2 - algria, vai la
nouvelle vague - guns of brixton (clash cover)
bad religion - american jesus
ammon contact - temple jam
why? - sanddollars
russian futurists - paul simon
big black - passing complexion
roots manuva - awfully deep
quintron - festive
dwight trible & the life force trio - the tenth jewel
ry cooder and manuel galban - caballo viejo
dance disaster movement - hello
don byron & existential dred - blinky
noisettes - don't give up
clem snide - better
andrew bird's bowl of fire - 50 pieces
nouvelle vague - in a manner of speaking (tuxedo moon cover)
ukrainians - koroleva ne polermo (smiths cover - the queen is dead)
minibosses - nija gaiden (nintendo cover)
penny wineblood - jc's nuts
the groodies - head rape
evelyn - so so fresh
too much joy - take a lot of drugs
daedelus - a sneaking suspicion
sam phillips - i wanted to be alone
balkan beat box - 9/4 the ladies
hillbilly hellcats - double time (Black Jacket Racket)
Friends of Dean Martinez - So well remembered
RL Burnside - shake em on down
the negro problem (bobby fuller four cover)
mr. scruff - limbic funk
die sterne - widerschein
the residents - two lips
nutley brass - teenage lobotomy (ramones cover)
nick cave & the bad seeds - deanna
dave crimmen - baby shake it up
the hellhounds - wartime blues (blind lemon jefferson cover)
omar a rodriguez lopez - deus ex machina
servotron - i sing! the body cybernetic
boom bip - first walk
nomo - movin in circles
blonde redhead - 10
autechre - fermium
gaetano fabri vs kocari orkestra - siki siki baba
cosmic corridors - dark path
crappy Cracker song
temple - black light
descendents - myage
mc paul barman - joy
matthew shipp - pulsar
dion and the belmonts - runaround sue
lullaby for the working class - hypnotist
ian dury - sex & drugs & rocknroll
zykos - mrs
amadou & mariam - senegal fast food
kanda - they'll need cocaine
sylvie lewis - rockwell's blues
deformo - rich kid
patti smith - tramplin
domenico + 2 - algria, vai la
nouvelle vague - guns of brixton (clash cover)
bad religion - american jesus
ammon contact - temple jam
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