I woke up from the blazing heat in my tent.  It was about 7:30 – 8 o’clock in the morning.  By the time that I would manage to get myself shoed up and standing, the outside would already be slightly chilly and overcast.  This is a pattern that I would become accustomed to over the next couple of mornings; wake up early to the heat and then immediately put a sweatshirt on and hobble around looking for a different line of outhouses.  We were camped pretty deep into the grounds, which meant that our Honey Buckets took a while to be maintained and were usually “full” in the morning.  Such is the way of the music festival.

Apparently, Patrick has trained in the culinary arts and that fact, along with his generosity, resulted in us eating pretty well in the mornings.  He was in a really good mood from getting to see My Morning Jacket the night before, but the festival wouldn’t really be starting for me until today.  That morning, Jesse and I also got the chance to speak more about music.  We were both really excited about the opportunity to finally see Pavement and had different songs that we were hoping to hear.  I was betting on “Range Life“.  We knew that once we got into the venue we would be in there all day, so we tried to decide at which point we needed to head in and what we were willing to miss out on.  The collective decision was to wait and go in to see They Might Be Giants at 3:20.

THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS

We were slacking a little and got a few things ready in advance; things like hidden sandwiches in the backpack, etc.  I walked up to the media check-in again and waited behind a couple of girls, who were obviously in the wrong place, to get the fuck out of the way.  These broads were already hammered and were trying to babble some kind of request for special access or something.  They weren’t accepting the fact that they were “not media” and they were in the “wrong” spot.  The women working the table from Live Nation didn’t have much of a reaction and you could tell that they’d been dealing with shit like this a lot.  As I waiting for my wristband to be located, I saw the woman who rejected their requests looking past me and laughing to herself.  Then, I heard one of the drunk girls yell, “Lick my ass!” and turned around to see her stumbling over and pointing at it real classy-like on her way into the show.

When we  reached the Main Stage, TMBG were already on, so we sat down at the top of the lawn and watched.  They were playing “Birdhouse in Your Soul” from Flood (1990).  I had thought that we had arrived late but, based on the setlist, they were only the second song in.  Next they played “Clap Your Hands” from their 2005 childrens album, Here Come the ABCs and “Upside Down Frown” from 2007‘s The Else.  After that they revisited Flood with the songs “Your Racist Friend” and “Dead“.  I was a bit confused about this tour and this set in particular.  They pulled out a kids song, but then went into some adult themed and morbid classic tracks.  They continued with the “newish” material for “The Mesopotamians” (Else) and “Stalk of Wheat” from Spine (2004).  Then they went on to even newer material and played “What is a shooting star?” from Here Comes Science (2009), an album that ICP could benefit from giving a quick listen.  They finished the show off with “We Live in a Dump” from The Else bonus disc and a rendition of “Instanbul (not Constantinople)” that ended with a crazy whipped up theramin outro.  Somewhere in the mix, there was a close up of hand puppets on the big screen and a portion of “Free Ride” by the Edgar Winters Group.

I grew up with They Might Be Giants and I have a great deal of respect for their work and originality, but this show was awkward.  All of the tracks were either from kids albums, their last two non-kids albums, or from the classic Flood.  On paper, it almost seemed like there was something for everyone, but in reality, it felt more like there wasn’t anything for anyone.  It couldn’t be considered a childrens show, because of the adult themes that were mixed in around it.  It wasn’t really a classic throw down, with all of the post 2000 shit they played.  To be honest, TMBG kind of lost me over the last decade, once they wrote that terrible Malcom in the Middle theme song, and I’ve mostly rediscovered them through my 5 year old niece’s albums.  They have a quarter-century of material to pull from and I wasn’t too psyched on the selection but, if you’re still following their career extremely closely and have kids, you may have felt differently.  The environment was weird and I believe that their set may have have thrived better on a side stage.  I saw them play in 1993 at a local festival and I remember it being great.  Their energy was contagious and it was the first time that I saw an adult woman pull out her boobs, so my memories of that show were especially fond.  This time, it just felt like their energy was falling dead into the crowd and there was something about the sound on the early Main Stage shows that had been sounding flat anyway.  Like I said, their whole scheduling situation felt a little off and some people just stay at the main stage no matter who’s playing.  I’m pretty sure that there had to be a mix of hardcore TMBG fans grouped in with a bunch of folks who were probably indifferent about the whole scene.  Next on the bill was the young and popular hip-hop golden boy/ Kanye West prodigy, Kid Cudi… so, who knows… maybe this was their crowd?  No?

Kid Cudi

Kid Cudi came out to an excitement and an uproar of recognition.  Everyone might as well have been screaming, “We recognize this guy!  Play that song!  That one hit… The famous one!  Or maybe that one from the commercial!  Woo hoo!!!”  Yeah, I know his track “Day ‘N’ Nite“, the one that drives the kids into a frenzy.  It’s not bad and I have nothing against this guy, but the sound at live rap shows usually isn’t that great, in general.  Unless you’re an act like THE ROOTS, rap performances in a live setting are usually limited, with one-dimensional sound and muffled vocals .  I’ve seen exceptions with people like KRS-1, who was amazing, but even artists who are typically impressive on tape, like Talib Kweli, can have their audio fall flat in the wrong forum.  With such an enormous amphitheatre, it was crazy to see a single man trying to command that overwhelming crowd all by himself.  Under the circumstances, Kid “Cutie” (as we were referring to him) actually did a fairly adequate job.  [Hey, Cutty Ranks doesn't spell that shit like that].

The young rapper was sporting an Anthrax T-Shirt when he came out.  I can only assume that it was worn as a nod to Public Enemy who had worked with the thrash metal band on “Bring tha Noise” and who would be performing on another stage at the festival later in the day.  This extremely non-intimate stadium rap show wasn’t really engaging me and I was relieved when Jesse leaned over to me and casually said, “If I’m not quite sure of what Anthrax did as a band, I seriously doubt that this 16yr old brother is… and I’ve seen Anthrax.”  I thought it was the funniest thing that I’d heard all day, partially because I was thinking the same thing.  At that point, I was really happy that we wound up traveling with these guys and even more so that someone else was around to talk shit about the same things that I was noticing.  This was also the point where I snapped out of my surroundings and decided to get up and leave to explore the rest of the festival.  Kim decided to stay seated with the group and I went off to go see Mike Birbiglia in the Rumpus Room tent.

Mike Birbiglia

Just like the day before, I had to push my way up towards the front to hear anything.  The Bigfoot stage was crazy loud and conflicting with the poorly insulated comedy tent.  I walked up to the little barricade and was stopped by a security guard who told me that he wasn’t allowed to let anyone into the photo area anymore.  I mentioned that it wasn’t a problem the day before and he explained that they had only just told him today.  Then I pointed out that there were already 2 other fools sitting down there with cameras and he responded by trying to tell me that he let them down there before he knew that he wasn’t allowed to anymore.  I exaggerated the importance of me “needing” a photo and tried to focus on how ridiculous the logic keeping me out was.  He told me that I could take 1 photo, which I changed to 2 photos and then to, “No problem, but I’m gonna shoot a few more than that to make sure that I get one.“  Then I walked past him.  I knew that he was a little stressed out and I wanted to show that I appreciated his help, so I took my shots, but I did it quick and walked back out and nodded as if to say, “See buddy?  Everything is ok.  No big deal.  It’s gonna be alright.”

Birbiglia‘s a great comedian and I like his work, but the environment in that tent wasn’t the best for a comedy show.  The acoustics are just off and it’s hard to believe that the people in the back could either hear and/or see much, if anything at all.  Just like with Patton Oswalt on Friday, Birbiglia is a seasoned professional, but there was something about their sets that made me feel like they were constantly aware of the environment and were simply working through it.  All that I really remember from this routine was a section about a nightmare that he had which involved a flying jackal.  He climbed up on a stool to help emphasize the exponential amount of danger that a jackal with wings could possess over the standard Earthbound model.  After leaving the photo pit, however, it was difficult for me to see anything and, once I backed up into the section where the sound was being muddled with the Bigfoot Stage again, I decided to just give up and leave.

The XX

I walked past the Avi Buffalo crowd at the Bigfoot Stage, past the Yeti Stage and into the media section again.  I found myself wandering around and needed some water and a place to sit down for a minute.  This time I saw someone interviewing the duo from Yacht back there.  I called Kim and could instantly hear that something was wrong in her voice, so I headed right back over to the spot where we were before to get her.  I rushed over there so fast that I didn’t even notice that Mt. St. Helens Vietnam Band had made a last second and unannounced appearance on the Yeti stage that I was walking past.

Kim was looking bad but wanted to go over to THE XX show anyway.  She was disoriented and spacey, so I laid down a blanket for her in the grass at the back of the Bigfoot Stage area and she fell asleep with her head on the backpack.  I had big plans to shoot this show but, based on the way that everyone was stomping around, I knew that it wouldn’t have been safe to leave her there alone.  People were openly walking over her with me sitting there.  Their shoes would narrowly miss the top of my sick girlfriends head by mere inches or they would carelessly do shit like stand right on her feet.  I had to stay low the entire set and listen to it from there.  I was chopping at mother fuckers legs and mean mugging these bastards who should have known better.  “Sorry“…  “Excuse me“…  “Thanks“   Thanks?  For what, telling you to fucking check yourself?  There was room to go around and there’s no excuse to step on someone that you see laying there.  We were in the back, not up front in the crowd I was actually surprised at how much people really never stop walking around during a set.  Stop for a minute and pay attention to what’s happening people.  Just for a moment.

People’s barriers change in different environments and they can even feel that they have a different set of secret rights that go along with their ticket price.  When The XX came out, some guy instructed me to wake Kim up to see them.  I looked at him as if to say, “Eat a dick!” and he got the message pretty quickly.  Obviously, my plan was to watch the show and not to sit on the ground like a shield, but I had to adjust to my circumstances.  The girls that were standing with him were incredibly helpful with recognizing my situation and even formed a nice little barricade while they watched from behind me.

I never even got an opportunity to see the members of The XX from my crouched position, but I did hear them and they sounded pretty good.  I remember hearing the song “Crystalized” kick in immediately after the intro.  Later came other recognizable tracks like “Basic Space“, “VCR“, and “Islands“.  The truth is, they basically played their entire album.  These kids from The XX were thrown into the spotlight so quick and their debut took off so fast, that they really don’t have much material to pull from.  I like them though, and I like their understated approach to their work.

Click here to view the embedded video.

These band member are extremely young, but they also seem incredibly focused on creating music, as opposed to become “stars”.  Incidentally, the song “Stars” seemed to be the only track from their self titled album that was actually absent.  Their strong focus on music as a craft and less on the marketing which can surround it, undoubtedly stems from their education at London‘s Elliot School.  The institute has an impressive list of former students and even claims Kieran Hebden (aka: Four Tet) as an alumni.  I’d hate to imply that the entirety of The XX‘s appeal and worth stems from their youth, because it doesn’t.  The reason that their youth is so relevant is because of the possibilities that it represents for the future, not only of their careers but of musical directions in general.  Of course, my hopes are that groups like this are a mere foreshadowing of younger artists beginning to experiment with more subtle and interesting approaches to Electronica and songwriting, instead of just trying to throw out a catchy Casio beat and dressing like a Rubik’s Cube to gain a fanbase, like shiny objects to an infant.  Then again, maybe I just miss the Eurythmics.

*Read Part 2*

I was skeptical at first, but it seemed to look legit.  The lineup would start with a local band, Smile Brigade, who would be followed by Ra Ra Riot and then, BTS.  I sent a text about the show to anyone that I thought would be interested, jumped in the shower, charged up my camera, and headed out with my girlfriend.  The bus never showed up and, about 45 minutes later, we finally reached Seattle’s University District.  After eating a giant gyro, I headed in to the Upper Playground to talk to the manager, Jen, and let her know about the free event.  No one that I informed about the show had heard anything about it and I was beginning to to wonder if this thing was even really going down.  If it was, I didn’t have any idea about what the set up would be.  There was a possibility that the performance was solely open to UW students and faculty.  If that was true, it also meant that there would be a very likely possibility that I was going to be jumping a fence and/or being chased by security.  I smoke too much and can’t run as fast, but I was set on getting in.  I saw MOS DEF at the UW‘s HUB building 10 years ago and got into to that one by transferring a UV stamp off of some random girls wrist.

We walked, somewhat aimlessly, through the parking lots, across streets, and down sidewalks on the campus.  It appeared that most students were walking against us in the opposite direction.  Every time we’d hear any sound and get excited, it would turn out to be something like a practicing trumpeter in the music building.  Eventually, we came to an open grass field in front of the HUB building.  There were a few food stands (fallafel, etc) and a large stage set up at the far end.  No fences, no official entrance, no unmanageable crowd, basically…no problems.  We had missed the opener and Ra Ra Riot was already on stage.  The makeshift venue worked out nicely and provided plenty of room for the crowd, which sat in groups and relaxed on the grass.  Back in the 90s,  Seattle Center used to hold a weekly summer event known as “Pain in the Grass“.  Local bands like Modest Mouse and Mudhoney would come out and perform, while families and music fans sat  in front of the stage on picnic blankets and watched for free.  With local events like Bumbershoot becoming more and more expensive and corporate, it was nice to have a throw back to the free outdoor events that I used to attend when I was much younger.

Ra Ra Riot

I’ve heard about Ra Ra Riot a lot, but have never actually listened to them or seen them live before.  They are a 6-piece group made up of 4 men and 2 women.  Overall, they were fairly solid musicians and had a good amount of energy.  The great thing about a band this large is their potential for versatility.  Member, Alexandra Lawn, moved back and forth between playing an electric cello and an Alesis Micron synthesizer.  Wesley Miles, the lead vocalist, would also take turns manning the Micron and, at one point, the bassist (Mathieu Santos) and guitarist (Milo Bonacci) put down their instruments to contribute percussion, while seated on the drum riser.  Gabriel Duquette‘s personal Myspace page states that he is “the touring drummer for Ra Ra Riot“.  It also says, “Hey! Do you want me to play some drums for you??? I might. Write me a message!“  Their original drummer John Pike died in 2007, and Duquette‘s statements make me wonder about what his role and level of investment in the group actually is.  Regardless of what they may be, his contributions to the live performance stood out the most to me.  Duquette is very adept at his craft and a noticeable component, without overpowering the songs.   He adds a necessary punch to the tracks, not unlike Scott Plouf from Built to Spill.

Some folks were singing along to the words and they seemed to have an adequate number of fans in attendance.  I, personally, could never see myself buying a release from them or listening to their music on my own, intentionally.  They have a very accessible sound, especially in the current pop-heavy musical climate.  They sound similar to Death Cab For Cutie, whom they are currently on tour with, and the incorporation of strings from Lawn and Rebecca Zeller (violin) provided brief moments of Sufjan Stevens.   Miles‘ vocals often sounded like they were stripped directly from Strangeways Here We Come.  One song in particular, “Can You Tell“, prompted me to want to answer with, “Yes, I can tell.  You really like the Smiths…a lot.”  I wasn’t sure if I should stop him and tell him that I think that I’ve heard that one before.  James Mercer has also been blatantly guilty of sampling from the Morrissey vocal well, so it’s not surprising that Ra Ra Riot‘s tunes were also tinged with a bit of The Shins.  Like I stated before, they were not a “bad” band.  They are proficient musicians and have a high energy performance so, if you are already a fan of their music, you will not be disappointed with their live show.  Also, if you are John Hughes and thinking of coming out with a new film in the same vein as your earlier productions, like “Sixteen Candles” and “Pretty in Pink“, these guys could easily provide that new Simple Minds-style  teen love song that you’re looking for.  The name Ra Ra Riot makes complete sense to me because they often sounded peppy and amped up like cheerleaders on a pillage.  That whole Death Cab pop scene just doesn’t really do shit for me but, the live show in that sunny grass field was actually quite fitting and I didn’t mind it at all.

Built to Spill

After the Ra Ra Riot set, my lady (Kim) had to head to work, ensuring that she would miss yet another Built to Spill performance.  We walked towards the closest designated smoking area on campus to have a cigarette before she left. On our way there we walked right past security and behind the stage.  Nobody seemed to be stopping anyone.  Ra Ra Riot were loading their equipment and BTS guitarists Brett Netson and Jim Roth were sitting in fold out chairs as we passed by.  We smoked, Kim left, and I decided to try to see if I could get into the photo pit.  I should have just called the school for a pass but, since I fucked that up, I tried to fast talk my way past a couple of men in yellow security windbreakers.  I think that they believed me but, when they told me to go talk to another man with the list, I decided that I didn’t want to deal with the drama.  By now, the front was a little more crowded, but I found a fairly good spot up close and got my camera ready as the band members entered the stage.

Built to Spill‘s lineup is 5-strong these days.  In the early years, front man Doug Martsch intended to rotate the line up with different backing musicians for each album.  For the first few releases he did just that.  Caustic Resin‘s Brett Netson played bass on the debut release, Ultimate Alternative Wavers, only to be replaced with the similarly named Brett Nelson on the sophomore release, There’s Nothing Wrong With Love.   Eventually Martsch settled with a standard lineup, but continued with the 3-piece format and provided additional guitar work for the albums through overdubs.  Jim Roth began playing with the group for live shows, helping to alleviate some of the weight from Martsch‘s shoulders, until he became a full-fledged member.  A few years back, Netson returned to round out the roster and add a third guitar into the mix.

The crowd was awkward and surprisingly small.  Built to Spill regularly sell out a 3-night run at The Showbox every time that they come to Seattle but, now that they were doing a free show, the turnout was astonishingly weak.  The poster did state that the show was “for students, faculty, and staff” so, they probably went out of their way to keep it like a secret.  It was great for me, though, I could see extremely well and didn’t have to deal with getting drenched with the arm sweat of strangers packed too closely around me.  Capt. OG, another one of our writers, showed up on his Redline and was able to roll the bike right up to the front next to me.  I had to wonder how many people were even there for Built to Spill and how many showed up just because they had nothing better to do.  I saw a good amount of attendees leave after Ra Ra Riot and there were two particular rambling douchebags behind me who wouldn’t shut the fuck up.  “Is this the whole band?  He’s got a cool guitar.  Ha! Ha!  He just said ‘thanks’.“  Blah blah blah.  Something about their friend that’s cooler than them, but not there.. some other inside joke that’s not funny… another reference to how they have no knowledge about the show that they’ve moved up front to view.  They were extra loud too, as  if some talent scout for dipshits was going to over hear them and give them their big break.  “Hey, I really like the cut of you guys’ jibs.  Here’s my card; we’re casting for a Fallout Boy crowd and we’re looking for a couple of socially inept goons who communicate through XBOX headsets and that women refuse to interact with romantically.  I think you two would be perfect.“  A short Asian girl,who was friends with them, turned around and reminded them that, since this was one of her favorite bands and, since she wanted to hear them play, they didn’t have to stay and could leave at any minute if they weren’t enjoying themselves.  I was imagining myself cracking them in the face when the music came in and drowned out the squawking.  Built to Spill was playing “In Your Mind” from Ancient Melodies of the Future [2001 Warner Bros.].

The band sounded great and, although I’ve been going to Built to Spill shows for half of my life, I haven’t caught one in a few years.  It was beautiful outside and the same old feeling that I used to have when I was 15 came rushing back.  The next song that they played was “Stab” [There's Nothing Wrong With Love], before going into “Three Years Ago Today” [Ultimate Alternative Wavers].  Doug was utilizing  his normal spastic movements, singing with his entire body, and tossing his head back while opening his Muppet-like jaw as if it were resting on a felt hinge.  The present triple-guitar incarnation is pleasantly cohesive, most likely due to its organic growth.  Although Netson wasn’t considered an official member again until years after Ultimate Alternative Wavers, he has still appeared on many of the releases.  I had never really focused too intently on the specific  parts played by each individual member, but Netson‘s warbling guitar work meshes perfectly.  It’s as if Martsch was playing them himself.  The group has sacrificed nothing through its growth.  If anything, the sound has only been enhanced.  That being said, this show did not exactly go off without a hitch.

My first sign that something might go awry came before any music had even began.  Doug had taken a moment with Brett Nelson to reteach him a bassline to one of their songs.  After one song in the performance, Nelson even made a comment, away from the mic, about how rough they had done.  After “Three years Ago Today“, the next song that came in the set-list was “You Were Right” [Keep it Like a Secret], in which Martsch noticeably fumbled with the lyrics repeatedly.  BTS then played “Virginia Reel Around the Fountain” by The Halo Benders, Martsch‘s side-project with K-Records founder Calvin Johnson (Beat Happening, Dub Narcotic Sound System, etc).  By now they had already played 5 different tracks and not one of them was from the same album.  Next came “Else” and then “Conventional Wisdom” from You in Reverse.  That one was a fucking disaster.  If you know this song, then you probably know that there is a really strange part through out it where it changes up and sounds almost as if the bottom is dropping out.  That effect stretched a little too long at points and the transition was none too smooth.  Martsch continuously tried to retune his guitar in the middle of it.  I actually expected them to stop a few times at the beginning and start over, but they trucked through it.  The lyrics weren’t working out so the singer stopped trying .   Eventually, they just went into the extensive ending jam instead.

For the next song they went back to basics and played “Big Dipper“.  This one came through pretty solid.  It was still hot as fuck out and someone brought them some towels to wipe the sweat off.  Martsch had been wearing sunglasses and a black cap to block out the sun and it made him look like a sniper.  The young Asian girl, who helped quiet her friends earlier, was still standing next to me.  I was surprised to hear her say, “He’s so sweaty!  I wanna fuck the shit out of him!“  in a gruff voice.  My friend Amanda showed up with her daughter and I finally ran into Onsen by the end of the show, as well.

The last few songs included “Sidewalk“, “Car“, and “Goin’ Against Your Mind“.  They finished the show off with an extended pedal-heavy version of “Carry the Zero“.  A few tours back,  BTS were ending many of their shows with a crazy 2o minute jammed-out dub version of Neil Young‘s clasic “Cortez the Killer“.  This shows finale wasn’t as intense or drawn out but it was still packed with effects, including what sounded like a reverse delay.  The show was over and the crowd dispersed.  Although the performance was wrought with mistakes, I still really enjoyed myself.  Even when Built to Spill fucks up, they still sound better than most bands and it was great to see the show with old friends and a limited crowd.  I went to some of my first Built to Spill shows ever with Amanda and I’ve been seeing them since back when they still had openers like Heatmiser, Elliot Smith and Sam Coomes‘ (Quasi) old band.

I’ve met and spoken with Doug Martsch countless times over the last decade and a half.  He has always been extremely nice and beyond accommodating with his time.  The band was handing down set lists and signing posters for the few honest fans and stragglers that were left behind.  They did all of this in the middle of breaking down their set.  Amanda wanted to say hi to him and get one of the posters signed for her daughter but, since we’ve both met him in the past and know that he would have been completely gracious about it, we still didn’t want to bother him.  It was clear that he was busy.  We were about to leave but Onsen asked us to wait for him and said that he would be right back.  As we were waiting, Martsch stepped past the security who had, apparently, decided to step up their game.  I walked over to the songwriter while he was signing some posters for a waiting fan.  He was using a pencil, so I asked the guy if he wanted to use the Sharpie that I had in my camera bag.  “No thanks.  Pencil lasts longer.  Markers fade.“  “Oh…really?“  I asked.  “Oh wait, that’s right.  Pencils are forever.  Isn’t that what they say?“  He ignored me but Martsch chuckled.  Still signing the posters he responded with,  “They’ll start saying it now.”

Once that was done, he signed a poster for Amanda‘s daughter Stella, who is only 1 1/2 years old, and posed for a picture with her.  Amanda told him how Stella had a look of surprise throughout the show as if to say, “How does he know these songs?  These are our car songs.“  Doug laughed and added, “And he’s playing them all wrong.”

Like I stated before, I’ve met him quite a few times.  The two of us even sat together and had a conversation on a sidewalk on 5th St. in Olympia once, but that was a long time ago.  I’ve mentioned venues to him that he’s played at and he didn’t even remember them so, I assumed that there was a huge chance that he wouldn’t remember me, throughout all of the places he’s been and all of the people that he’s met.  While he was signing the poster, Amanda casually mentioned how I used to randomly give him Homies figurines way back in the day and I could see a light go on in his head.  “Oh yeah!  What was your name again?“  I reminded him about the time that he gave me his phone number in the green room at the Crystal Ballroom, about 5 or 6 years ago, but that I wasn’t sure if it was still the right one.  “It probably is.  Not much changes.“  I told him that I still wanted to do an interview, but that I didn’t have a method that I trusted for recording cell phone conversations yet.  He wrote down his email for me but warned that his typing skills aren’t very good and, consequently, his answers were probably going to have to be fairly short.  I had heard that he would be “DJ-ing” a show at a small local bar the following day, so I asked him about it.  It was true but he didn’t seem to know many details himself.  In fact, he asked me where it was located.  He explained, “I’m not really DJ-ing” and made table scratching movements with his hands.  “I’m just playing some songs.”  I told him that I would plan on going anyway and we parted ways.

BONUS REVIEW:

Doug Martsch’s “DJ” Show

The event was held at a place called SOLO in Queen Anne and was scheduled to run from 9pm until one in the morning.  It was a small but swanky joint.  Not too swanky, but nice and clean.  It had a hip little vintage vibe to it.  Not many people were there when my girlfriend and I arrived.  Martsch was quietly sitting in the back on a couch near the bar.  The area that he was located in was like a small living room.  There was a coffee table and two other couches squaring it off.  Other people were seated around him and he had a little digital set up next to him on a table.  It was just as he had told me, he was just “playing some songs“.  No fancy transformer or chirp scratches, beat juggling, or mixes, but good music nonetheless.

It’s widely known that Doug Martsch is a huge fan of reggae music and there was a lot of it being played that night.  He stuck to a lot of old school sultrier material.  Over the course of the night, he played “Simmer Down” and “Corner Stone” by The Wailers, as well as  Desmond Dekker‘s “oo7 (Shanty Town)”. The playlist wasn’t solely Reggae-influenced, however, as a variety of other genres were interspersed throughout.  I heard stuff that night by musicians that ranged from Curtis Mayfield to Ice Cube.  There were songs like “Angie” (Rolling Stones), KC and the Sunshine Band‘s “Please Don’t Go“, and, at one point, he even played “Jive Talking” (The Bee Gees) before going into a The Meters‘ “Sissy Strut“.

It was a weird night because there was no attention put on Martsch or any advertisement in the bar about him being there at all.  If you weren’t already aware that he was scheduled to be there and play this music, he could have easily been overlooked.  In fact, I would bet that he was by most of the patrons that night.  It, ultimately, got a lot busier but, most of the people just looked like regulars and there was even a mother ordering food and drinks with her daughters.  I figured that, since I was already there and liked the bar, I might as well stay for a while and drink some IPAs.  My friend Brad showed up and sat with us on a couch.  We simply hung out and talked.  It was just a night at a bar but it was a night at a really relaxed and pretty cool bar with a great juke box.  I can’t remember the last time that I went out for a drink and wasn’t bombarded with a bunch of noise and terrible music blasting, so this was nice.  I mentioned to Brad how, the last time that I tried to play a song on a juke box, I ate all of my food, drank a few beers and left two hours later without ever even hearing it.  That song was “Gabrielle” by WEEN and, coincidentally, Martsch actually played it later that night.  He also played their song “Baby Bitch” and “Mongoloid” by DEVO.  Before we knew it, we had stayed for the whole night and were leaving to the staff screaming “Last Call“.

Later on, I began to wonder why Doug Martsch was even in town at all.  None of his bandmates were at SOLO that night, he pretty much kept to himself, and there wasn’t much of a production behind the “event”.  The show at UW appeared to be, somewhat, thrown together and Built to Spill isn’t even currently on tour.  “Perhaps, he’s in town for some other project“, I thought.  I decided to send him an email and find out.  I figured that, if he was going to be around for a while, we may be able to set something up in person.  It wouldn’t necessarily provide me with as much research time as I would normally prefer for interviews, but it would remedy the possible email/phone issues.  I also proposed doing the interview via SKYPE, since that might work out best.  Two days later I received the following response:

doug”

Whether he’s referring to the new Built to Spill album or the rumored Halo Benders release, I don’t know.  One thing you can be sure of, however, is that it will be at the top of my list of questions to ask when this interview finally goes down.

[If you have any questions that you would like to us to ask Doug, please follow this link to leave them in our SOAPBOX forum.]

Take a trip to Netflix or imdb and you’ll find out that Mos Def is a fairly prolific actor who studied film at NYU back in the early 90′s.  He also appeared in “The Hard Way” with Michael J Fox (1991) and starred on the short lived “Cosby Mysteries” (1994) but, what really caught my eye was the “Hip Hopera“, “Carmen“, which was produced by MTV in 2001.  I remember watching MTV pump the musical like it was the sequel to Michael Jackson’s “Thriller“.  The latest Destiny’s Child video, “Survivor“, was even set to premiere after the television “masterpiece“.  Well, the music sucked and, although Mos Def did a good job, he couldn’t save this poorly conceived idea to make the modern day version of “Carmen“.  It was like a generic time capsule of the early 21^st century rap music videos as a long form musical.  What I did enjoy was the MC’s work on “The Dave Chapelle Show“.  It felt magical and his performances were awesome.

2004 was a good year for Mos Def musically.  He released the critically acclaimed album, The New Danger, which featured the band Black Jack Johnson. Even though it was not a straight hip hop record, it brought Bad Brains and Living Colour together and that, alone, is pretty sweet.  In this coming year the rapper is scheduled to come out with a new CD, but it is more likely that a new Mos Def movie or television program will hit the streets before that project is released.  Smith’s ex-wife, Alana Wyatt, recently wrote a tell-all book about him, which makes some scandalous accusations about the artist, who prides himself on being “conscious“.  I have not read it, but I’m sure it was made to exploit the character and career of the performer by someone that could never have created masterpieces like 1999′s “Black on Both Sides” and 2007′s “Be Kind Rewind“.  With his latest release being the film “Cadillac Records” and, without a new record out in stores to promote, it seems as if Mos Def will simply go on tour for the hell of it.  This time through, I was able to catch Mos live at The Moore Theatre to see what his current stage show was all about.

Mos Def

Moore Theatre

Seattle, Wa

12/13/08

Anyone who made it to this concert was down for the cause. With snow coming down, it went on and on and on. The hip-hop did not stop throughout the show.  He opened by doing the song “Boogie Man” a-capella and it was dark and cool.  All you could hear was his awesome voice in the dark.  The DJ provided some great old-school style jams which went well with the message that was coming from the MC.  They had a laid back vibe to them and I didn’t feel stressed from any of the music.  The samples that he played sounded as if they had traveled around the world, found all the best music, and then fused them together.  There was a lot of new material and I had never heard many of the tracks being performed.

There were only two people on stage, which can be rare for a rap concert, but the duo was able to keep the magic on stage without a huge entourage.  This was definitely not like when Sir Mix A Lot played at Seattle’s Showbox, and had about 20 people on stage rapping all times.  When Mos Def sang, it was mesmerizing. The crowd seemed to know a lot of the songs and when to come in at the right parts.  The real fans were there and he never even had to tell people to dance.  Everyone got down when the music called for it.  He made you move.

The theater was packed that night. I remember back when my friend Ben told me about a Too Short concert that he had seen at The Moore. He said that a bunch of rappers were passing the mic on stage for way too long and that Too Short left his DAT back home.  On top of that, the show only lasted about 15 minutes.  This performance, on the other hand, was the exact opposite of what I had imagined that Too Short show to be like.  The Mos Def crowd was laid back and the security didn’t even bother to search anyone on their way in through the entrance.  I liked The Moore as a venue and the sound of the vocalist’s live performance sounded better than on his albums.  I really enjoyed the messages that he was pushing of “peace” and “love” and, if he played a concert in town again, I would definitely try and attend it.

Overall, I feel that most Mos Def should not be missed and, if you have an opportunity to catch him in your area, I suggest that you take advantage of it.  If you are interested in finding any upcoming tour dates, however, I wish you luck.  The bio and info is blank on his label’s website and Mosdef.com will only reroute you to his myspace page, which provides very little information or updates.  I couldn’t find any useful alternative links from his site/myspace page.  If they do exist, I still couldn’t locate any show dates listed, like there were when he was featured on the Rock the Bells tour in ’07.  After my recent unsuccessful investigation, I was reminded of the youtube video of a young myspace-addicted boy being harassed by his older brother.  Someone told the boy that myspace wasn’t in the future. As for the future of Mos Def’s page, I hope it will start featuring more musical info but, until that point, you might actually have better luck at imdb.com.  From what we do know, his new album, “The Ecstatic“, has a tentative release date in February and he is currently working on the film “Keep Coming Back“, co-starring Steve Buscemi and directed by William H. Macy.

-Mac Dawg

(All photographs courtesy of Jason Ross from The Seattle Theatre Group)

The first single from The Ecstatic is called “Life In Marvelous Times” and is currently available for free download by clicking HERE

The video below is from Mos Def’s Moore Theatre performance.  The song featured is called “Auditorium” and is another track from his upcoming release.  The beat was done by Madlib and the song will also contain a verse by “The Ruler” Slick Rick.

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QcxVyEpVhlk

If Squarepusher fans abandoned Tom Jenkinson for any reason other than for churning out his same recipe of jazz-fusion, drill-n-bass, and musique concrète, it would be for finally providing evidence that he may, after all, be human.  For over 10 years now, Tom Jenkinson, aka Squarepusher, has wowed audiences and home-listeners alike with his blend of virtuoso bass solos, chaotic amen-break reconstructions, and all-out fuck-all noise assaults.  Whatever genre Jenkinson has chosen in the past to tackle, be it jazz-fusion, acid-house, musique concrète, hip-hop, or breakcore, often on the same album, he has done so with such precision that his critics can only cite repeating himself as a point of contention.  And justly so- 2006’s Hello Everything played almost like an anthology of styles he has mastered since 1996’s Feed Me Weird Things, again with near-flawless results.  But while Jenkinson definitely delivers something new and different from his past endeavors with Just A Souvenir (2008, Warp Records), he reveals to the world that he is not a robot programmed to sequence psychotic drum explosions and stroke perfectly crafted jazz bass solos after all.   Nope, Squarepusher lives, breathes, and occasionally makes a mediocre album.

Just to be clear,

Just A Souvenir is Squarepusher’s prog-rock album.  Sure, he describes his inspiration as being a hallucination that he had about a fictional band playing an “ultra-gig” with time-warping guitars and coat hangers and whatnot but, when the cards are on the table, it’s a rock album.  (I would have actually been more excited to review this album had it simply been presented as a prog-rock album.  This lame “daydream” shit that Square’s trying to push on his website didn’t exactly keep me perched at my mailbox waiting for the CD to arrive.)    “Star Time 2” false-starts things off with a synthy lead part over Jenkinson’s usual bass acrobatics (the very same acrobatics that led The Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Flea to dub him as “the best bass player on earth”).  The song still retains some of Squarepusher’s past electronic experience, but with much more of a “live band” feel, a theme that continues throughout the album. “The Coathanger” is actually the proper start to the album.   Beginning with some very cheesy vocoded lyrics (“Behold the coat – Hanger!”), it doesn’t take long for Jenkinson to Jaco all over himself.  Much like other parts of the album, there are subtle electronic manipulations, but these noodlings take much of a back seat compared to Jenkinson’s past square-pushing work-outs.

From there, we move onto the first (and weakest) of three guitar solo/concrète interludes, “Open Society,” where picked acoustic guitar lines are warped and tape-edited in an attempt to conform to Jenkinson’s (most-likely) drug-induced vision.   “A Real Woman” sees Squarepusher at his poppiest, but in between the wacky vocoded lyrics (seriously, WTF?) and rock n’ roll drum fills, there are some really cool math-y transitions.  The intertwining bass and guitar lines are even reminiscent of The Grateful Dead’s “Slipknot” or Phish’s best (read: early) epic jam tunes.  And the math-rock don’t stop there; ‘Pusher continues to get punky (“Delta-V”), funky (“Potential Govaner”), jammy (“Planet Gear”), and classic rock-y (“Tensor In Green”).  With its Ruth Underwood-style vibe solos, endless transitions, and overall grandiose presentation, “The Glass Road” screams “Frank Zappa!” before reducing itself into a distant drone.  But the real gems on Like A Souvenir are hidden in the back- after the last of the three previously mentioned guitar/concrète solos, “Fluxgate” (easily the best of the three, and also sounding extremely Zappa-esque after “The Glass Road”), Jenkinson offers up a loose free-jazzy guitar/bass exchange (“Duotone Moonbeam”) that recalls Bill Frisell’s early work- relaxed, unbound, but still a little edgy and tense.

Click here to view the embedded video.

“Edgy” and “tense” are, in fact, great adjectives to describe much of Jenkinson’s back catalog.  But just when you find some blanket terms to describe the whole of an artist’s work, that same artist comes along and proves you wrong.  With “Quadrature,” we find Jenkinson more beautiful and restrained than ever before.  With tasteful guitar-bass duets bouncing over a playful yet relaxing jazz structure, “Quadrature” is truly the highlight of the album.   “Yes Sequitur” closes things out with a classical-style guitar solo free of any digital or tape-based manipulations whatsoever; a true rarity for a Squarepusher track.

Like A Souvenir’s weaknesses lie, not in its concept nor in its structure, but rather, it’s in the execution where the album fails.   One can only assume that Jenkinson plays every instrument on the album (as he has in the past), so it sounds like what it is: tight math-rock structures that should probably be played live by a band, but are instead recorded separately track-by-track.   Sure, it’s impressive that one person did it all, but it’s Squarepusher- we’re used to near perfection.  If Jenkinson could get a group of crack prog-rock musicians (L.A.’s Bad Dudes, perhaps?) to execute his songs for him to then manipulate, this album might be far better that it is.   It’s not sloppy; it’s just not as energetic as the sound of a group of people playing together can be.  Yet, we were okay with Squarepusher’s ability to coordinate his various personalities into mixed-genre musical spasms before but, at this point, he’s wearing too many hats, and we all know ‘Pusher’s not really the collaboratin’ type.

So the album isn’t a show-stopper, or even up to SP’s usual unusually high standards but, at least, we can sleep better at night knowing that there’s not some evil bass-playing robot out there attempting to enslave civilizations and destroy any audio it happens to come across in the process.

-Memes

I almost abandoned this review.  I’ve been swamped trying to do too much at once:  Building a website, transferring content, learning to read code, networking, editing, etc., but during that whole time I have been thinking about writing.  GZA/The Genius, from the infamous Wu-Tang Clan, is still on tour and his latest album, Pro Tools (Baby Grande), is still fairly new, but the particular performance that I saw took place on the the 26th of last month and I was seriously beginning to wonder if the topic was getting stale.  It’s true, I almost abandoned this review until I remembered this quote that I had read from GZA himself, “I’m not one to write a rhyme in 30 minutes“.  He continues by saying, “Once RZA came to me and was like, ‘Don’t take two fuckin’ weeks to write a verse man, don’t strain your brain.’ Then when I take two weeks to write something he’ll be like, ‘This is a masterpiece man!’ That’s how I have to do it, I like to work like that.”  These quotes hit me instantly and, not only encouraged me to continue but also epitomize the basis of the GZA’s appeal to me and the reason for his endurance and consistency in the unstable and oft-criticized realms of Hip-Hop and rap music.

The Backdrop

In 1993, after recruiting 6 new members to their crew, Force Of The Imperial Master (AKA: All in Together Now), Gary Grice (GZA) and his cousins Robert Diggs (RZA) and Russell Jones (Ol’ Dirty Bastard) released one of the most influential Hip-Hop albums of all time under the moniker of the Wu-Tang Clan.  Although ’93 was an important year for Rap music, Enter the WU-Tang: 36 Chambers managed to become a critically acclaimed breakthrough amongst such releases as Midnight Marauders (Tribe Called Quest), Doggystyle (Snoop Dogg), Black Sunday (Cypress Hill), and Strictly for My N.I.G.G.A.Z. (2Pac).  While Cypress Hill made us want to hit the bong, Pac spoke of uprisings, and Tribe rapped about consciousness in their Cross Colours overalls, more than any other artists, WU-Tang displayed the skills that made people want to rap.  One of the more famous quotes from 36 Chambers came from Method Man in a portion where he and Raekwon are trying to describe the 9 artist’s various roles in the group, “He the head let’s put it that way.  We form like Voltron and GZA happen to be the head“.

When the swarm of the WU dispersed in different directions to establish their own solo careers and identities, some individuals made more of an impact then others.  Method Man’s Tical (1994) and Ol’ Dirty’s Return to the 36 Chambers (1995) separated their unique voices, reinforced the artists’ almost mythical personas, and enhanced their own individuality while other members like U-God and Inspectah Deck tended to fade more into the shadows of the lime light.  GZA paved his path somewhere in the middle and made it clear that he was less of a personality than some, but would make his mark quietly through quality and well crafted lyrics.  His solo album, Liquid Swords, as well as Raekwon’s Ghostface heavy Only Built for Cuban Linx, dropped at the end of ’95 and was hailed as a masterpiece.  I have personally listened to Liquid Swords as much as, if not more than, any other release ever, Rap or otherwise, and I regularly catch myself subconsciously repeating verses from that album in my day to day life, even now.  These releases, along with the RZA (Gravediggaz/Bobby Digital) and Ghostface (Iron Man) solo albums, struck hard, fierce and quick at the height of the WU’s popularity and with solid/groundbreaking production from the RZA.  The Clan’s second wave of solo albums were less successful as WU-Tang related merchandise and music over-saturated the market and the presence of RZA’s production became increasingly absent.  By the time WU-Tang’s Iron Flag was released in 2001, the iron was cooling off and, although the Clan had a somewhat triumphant return with their release of the group effort 8-Diagrams (SRC) last December, the following months were plagued with everything from public bickering, financial and artistic discrepancies within the group, and even a lawsuit.  With a lot of conversation in Hip-Hop circles relating to both the past and future of the WU-Tang and it’s members, the GZA just dropped his latest album, Pro Tools, but opted to embark on a tour performing his 13yr old classic Liquid Swords album from start to finish.

The Album

The album Pro Tools is being labeled as The Genius‘ 5th full length album despite his constant efforts to market it as a compilation, with comments like, “I saw an ad out there where it’s promoted as a GZA album. I’ll probably be on most of the tracks but its supposed to be a compilation album, there’s various artists on the album.“  The term “compilation” is confusing and even a bit misleading, which is probably why this album, which originally had an early January release date, bagged that angle in the labeling which now simply reads “PROTOOLS GZA/GENIUS“.  I got a copy of the album the day that it was finally released (Aug 19th) and was quick to notice that it actually had less guest appearances than his other albums.  Only 2 WU-Tang members, RZA and Masta Killa, even appear on it.  The compilation angle may have originally been an attempt to help showcase other artists on the album (his son Young Justice appears on two tracks) but is probably more likely an issue of the GZA not wanting to lessen the anticipation for his “true” solo album which is slated for an ’09 release and to be entirely produced by the RZA.  He says of his future release, “My next album is going to be no guest appearances. Emcees need to start carrying their own weight.“  I have mixed feelings about this statement because, something that I’ve always appreciated about Liquid Swords was the contributions from the other members.  Everybody seemed to make a conscious effort to deliver their best work when recording those parts with GZA and they gave birth to some of the most memorable moments on that album.  Everyone remembers Inspectah Deck’s verse on “Deul of the Iron Mic” that featured the classic line, “Building lobbies are graveyards for small-timers.  Bitches caught in airports, keys in they vaginas” and Killah Priest actually penned and performed the entire last track, “B.I.B.L.E. (Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth)”, by himself.  To me the collaborations were like Jazz throwbacks where, even though Wayne Shorter may have written and performs a song, you still know that it’s a Miles (Davis) album.  I understand that, but I don’t understand how Pro Tools should have any other label than the one that eventually appeared on it.

The album is surprisingly cohesive, unlike some of the more criticized Wu-family releases that came out in the late 90′s, which often had too many producers in the kitchen.  Much of the tracks contain more of the classic WU Camp style beats that are both, simplistic and subtle enough to put the lyricist in the forefront and allow them too truly shine, yet engaging, powerful, and ominous enough to draw you in.  The ironic part is that the classic WU-Tang sound was achieved mostly because of, and not despite, the other producers who were brought in beyond RZA, who only produced two of the albums 14 cuts.  The featured producers/extended members of the WU-Tang crew, like Mathematics and True Master, have retained more of the original classic sound than their mentor, RZA, who has tended to travel in more experimental directions in recent years.  The Mathematics track, “Pencil“, is one of the strongest tracks on the record.  “Pencil’s” beat reminds me of such legendary tracks as “Shadow Boxin’“(Liquid Swords) and “Bring Da Ruckus” (36 Chambers) by using a heavy and consistent drop with a simultaneous laid back groove that gives its sound an effect of audio hangtime.  It features Masta Killah and a very capable verse by RZA.  “Groundbreaking” is produced by Bronze Nazareth and the beat is solid.  The second verse cuts back and forth between GZA and Young Justice with vocal transitions that are a little choppy and sporadic; sometimes alternating lines and randomly switching mid sentence.  I still feel that it’s a good re-introduction to Justice and I like that, although it’s obvious he’s taking notes from his father in the writing department, his voice and cadence are his own; sounding a lot like Mad Lib’s alias, Quasimoto. The track “0%” balances the album well with its quicker flow and consistent and thriving immediacy, while “7 Pounds” has a more lackadaisical delivery with hints of MF Doom’s Viktor Vaughan work (Vaudeville Villain) or Gangstarr’s “Robinhood Theory“.  One track that I find really impressive is the True Master produced, “Alphabets“.  Beyond just the infectious beat, that track will sneak up on you lyrically.  GZA has the ability to weave so much into a small area, maintain continuity, and create tracks that creep and often don’t jump out of the shadows and kick you in the teeth until the 30th listen.  With a cadence you’d have to hear to fully understand, Grice dices up and spits out the alphabet in its entirety through the chorus,

“Allah, Be or Born, Cee, Devine, Equality
Father, then after that is the G-O-D
He or her, I Islam, then Justice,
King or Kingdom, Love, Hell or right, we still exist
Master, Now end, Cipher (O), Power, the Queen
Rule or Ruler, Self or Savior, Truth and Square are the same
Universe, Victory, Wisdom, Unknown (X),
Why (Y), Zig Zag Zig and know we’re back home.”

If you think that shit’s crazy and are baffled by the amount of complexity involved, you should know that the layers keeps going.  If you so choose to peel back the onion a bit further and find out what the song is really about, you can finish this article, climb the rope ladder to the next level, and kill the rest of the day off by reading about the “Supreme Alphabet“.  Above all, the song that made the quickest impact and that really jumped out for me on first listen was “Paper Plate“.  RZA’s beat on this track shined right off the bat and I loved the overall product, although I was admittedly ignorant to the history and purpose of the song as a 50 Cent diss track the first time through.  Once I realized what it was about, I liked it even more and the appeal of GZA’s spot on delivery and lyrics multiplied exponentially.

Back in early December of last year, GZA performed a show in London where he mentioned Solder Boy while describing the state of rap music and commercialism, “He a young nigga, he my son age“.  The crowd started screaming random shit and GZA pointed the mic out to hear what they were saying, which was, “Fuck Solder Boy!“  The MC wasn’t trying to get the crowed riled up, it was quite the opposite, and he tried to clarify his intentions with, “Hear that solder boy?!  I’m not hatin’ on you, WU-Tang is not on TV everyday.  I just wanna say, it’s a different environment right now.“  He tried to proceed and asked the crowd to “Hold up” but, as they continued, he put the mic back out in the crowd to exclamations of, “Fuck 50 cent!“, “Fuck Nick Cannon!“, and “Fuck 50!“  He tried to proceed again and, as people began to, “Ooooh!” he responded with, “I don’t give a fuck about 50 Cent.  Fuck 50 Cent, okay.  Who gives a fuck about him?” and, “So what?! You got a lotta money nigga, fuck you.  You got a lotta money nigga, you don’t got talent“.  GZA started the whole thing off by telling everyone to get their cell phones out because the shit was gonna be, “… on Youtube, tomorrow“.  He was right and there was a huge reaction to the footage.  He performed at the Knitting Factory in New York shortly after (Dec. 15th) and responded to what he called “dickhead niggas hiding behind moniters, online” who were claiming that he would never have made the same comments in New York that he had made overseas.  “All I did was say a nigga don’t have fucking lyrics.  I said 50 cent don’t got muthafuckin’ lyrics…..I stick by that shit.“  50 Cent’s comeback entailed little more than a few weak responses, one of which was regarding GZA’s age and another claiming that WU-Tang members smoked “dust“.  Lyrically, no one is more respected from the WU-Tang than “The Genius” and the same argument could be made for his place in the rap industry as a whole.  He comes from the school of battle rappers and 50 is one of those figures who has admitted to falling into the music industry as an afterthought, with his sole focus on trying to make some cash.  GZA didn’t come at 50 Cent and challenge him to a footrace or a wrestling match, instead he focused on lyrical ability which is essentially what they are supposed to posses some level of, by definition of their professions.

The title of “Paper Plate” came from GZA’s claims that the G-Unit frontman is “light weight” and “disposable” in regards to his impact and place in Hip-Hop history and, although I agree with these statements, the track itself deserves a place in rap battle history among the rivalry of Kool Moe Dee and Busy Bee, Cool J’s reinvention through his response to Canibus (“Momma Said Knock You Out“), and 2pac’s attack on B.I.G. and Junior Mafia (“Hit ‘em Up“).  He starts out by saying that 50 Cent has “Got a few hooks but no jabs” and continues with, “I get it, you Got Rich robbin’ those in the industry. Bite off this one, steal from your enemy“. He cracks on his Hollywood style with, “Get your ankles rolled while doin’ your two-step. Leave a Thank-You note for the crutches the Wu left“ and, “Enough to make you Vogue on the cover of GQ.  Only missin’ the sheer blouse. Homie, you see-through“.  He also refers to his involvement with Vitamin Water with the line, “Stop sippin’ on that Formula 50.  They want heat, I’ll give it to them burnt and crispy“.  This song is brilliantly crafted and GZA delivers his message by clearly amplifying his message instead of his voice.  He continues to question 50 Cent’s image,, as well as that of his whole crew by rapping, “If you’s a pimp, put chicks on a stroll. And if those your soldiers, give ‘em bigger guns to hold” and goes on to let him know that the Clan’s numbers are large and have a history that he shouldn’t disregard. “Have you ever been stung by a thousand hornets?  Five hundred killa bees, buzzin’ and really on it?  Whipped with CUBAN LINX, cut with LIQUID SWORDS, Choked by IRONMAN ’til we crush your vocal chords.“  The song is a genuine piece of art and ends with the classic explaination of why it wasn’t even worth his time, “Super nova give off gamma-ray bursts.  And I’ll finish this, only ’cause I let off first“.

The Perfomance

August 26th
Neumos Crystal Ball Reading Room
Seattle

The opening acts each made reference to WU-Tang Clan during their sets and, by the time that the “Shogun Assasins” sample from the “Liquid Swords” intro hit the speakers, the crowd was fairly amped up.  Grice took the stage without flash, wearing simple black do-rag and Jordan T-Shirt, and started rapping to a crowd that knew every verse.   The opening track, however, cut out after only the first verse and the momentum dropped for everyone that was expecting to hear, “…niggaz style are old like Mark 5 sneakers.  Lyrics are weak, like clock radio speakers“.  Something was up with the DJ, who operated like a last minute replacement and was misinterpreting GZA’s hand signals.  The Genius explained that he wasn’t going to settle for doing that whole fractions of songs “bullshit” and, even though he tried to uphold that statement, it proved more difficult than you would expect.  A song would swiftly end without warning and the rapper would have to pause and explain to the DJ the difference between his “cut” and his “drop” hand signals.  When everyone else in the building can remember the lines, “camoflouge chameleon, ninjas scalin your buildin’ No time to grab the gun they already got your wife and children“, reciting RZA’s verse should have been cake for the cousin whose album it appears on.  At one point the show was even stopped because the speakers sounded as if they had blown and GZA used the mic to inquire about the source of the distortion.

I know that the show sounds like it was a disaster and, from a technical aspect, it actually was.  I probably should have viewed it that way myself but I didn’t because I still had such a great time and I feel that it became a triumph, in its own way, through alternate means.  I’ve seen a lot of Rap performances where the vocals are muffled and hard to understand, but this was not one of them.  It was similar to when I saw KRS-1 because both emcees had clear vocal deliveries and audience connections and interactions so honest that the rooms appeared to reduce in size like the far end of a hallway at Wonka Industries.  The Genius conversed with the crowd and was not above coming right up to a camera to pose for a photograph.  “What kind of phone is that? T-Mobile?“  Or he’d ask a question like, “How old are you?“  to a kid rapping along to every lyric and, when he’d get the an answer like, “I‘m 16” he’d respond on the mic with, “He was 3 when this album dropped” or, “This kid wasn’t even born when 36 Chambers came out.“  He’d remind the crowd that “WU-Tang is for the children” and that it’s “forever“.  He reflected on how absurd it is for people to claim that he’s “too old” or “irrelevant” but I think that it was also an opportunity to positively affirm that to himself and to spread that aura contagiously throughout the audience.

It was a celebration of the work and pride that Grice has contributed to Hip-Hop and it was being delivered to those who have a love for the genre and respect the possibilities there-in.  A lot of rap out there is prone to flash as in, it will blind you, take your focus, and then steal your cash. (Sorry, I started subconsciously rhyming there for a minute)  The key to oppressing others is create an image or idea that is unattainable and feels beyond reach so that those targeted will find it overpowering and unapproachable.  It creates an OZ-style scene where the “Wizard” is behind the curtain, complete with the flames and light show, while Grice comes through post-theatrics, like the man with the hot air balloon offering to simply take your ass back home to the promised land.  50 Cent would, no doubt, be amused by the idea that GZA’s equipment malfunctioned and try to take his battle to MTV’s Cribs but, regardless of the income that he acquires from his image on the back of Coke-A-Cola trucks, Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson’s show would have crashed if faced with the same obstacles.  Curtis‘ idea of Hip-Hop is to show how much more marketable he is by recruiting young impressionable teenagers to support his career.  It’s the same angle utilized by white middle-aged racists to recruit young confused pre-teens into those backwoods Aryan Nation groups.  50 walks around in fur coats, throws a huge production, and jumps in a tour bus like he was the goddamn president, while GZA delivers the most thought provoking imagery in a T-Shirt and jeans and encourages his fans to stretch themselves to come up to his level with him.  After the Liquid Swords material, GZA threw in performances of “Guillotine (Swordz)” from Cuban Links and his new track “Alphabets“, but when he did the cover of the late ODB’s “Shimmy Shimmy Ya“, the crowd went insane.  The venue security guard, who had been trying to retain a professional demeanor with his folded arms, hopped backwards up the few steps to the stage while rapping and pumping his fist towards the audience in unison.  That’s the difference between empowering your audience and elevating yourself above them.  GZA was so energized by the environment that he was reluctant to leave the stage, “Wait, I didn’t do Protect Yo’ Neck!  We could do that.  Cue that one up”

The Place for Genius & the Overall State of Rap Music

I came up with a theory in the early to mid 1990s which dealt with pop-cultural patterns, after realizing that every decade seems to reject the prior decade while embracing the one prior to that.  The 90′s were the 70′s and, 20 years ago, I was wearing the same day-glo neon colors on my T-Shirts that are prominantly featured across the hoodies and baseball caps of today.  I would prefer to see a new found appreciation for the film “True Stories” than one for legwarmers, fanny packs, and Kanye West’s slatted glasses, but the cheesiest and most shallow shit is always adopted first.  Instead of a huge resurgance of Prog music and On the Corner style Jazz in the 90′s, huge warehouses/danceclubs with flashing lights and reflective decor were established for people donning over-the-top, fly by night fashion gimmicks, and connecting to the music and their fellow, promiscuous patrons, through the popular narcotic of their time.  The difference is that in the 90′s it was called “raving” and in the 70′s it was called “Disco“.  This raises questions about where trends, longevity, and historical impact intersect and in which ways.  To give you an example of the climate in which Liquid Swords was released, it ended off a year where the number one hit, “Gangsta’s Paradise“, was from a Michelle Pfeiffer film and helped to jump off 1996,  a year where the most successful musical effort was a phenomenon known as “The Macarena“.  Coolio is about to introduce his new reality show and I don’t know what the fuck happened to Los Del Rio, but I do know that they still hold the title for the longest running #1 debut single in American music history.  Liquid Swords, on the other hand, falls into that rare catergory of albums like Dark Side of the Moon, which still sound as fresh and innovative today as they did back when they were originally released.

I remember trying to form connections with co-workers when I worked at a hotel, by starting conversations about Rap music.  The first was with a black “Christian” girl who’s primary focuses were partying, money, and hooking up with guys in “committed” relationships.  She had little to no frame of musical reference beyond the Pop-Rap that was played on the local R&B station and told me that she was scared of WU-Tang because she had always thought that they were some sort of “cult“.  As a walking contradiction, she tended to migrate towards the “artists” of today who break their careers with a track about fucking around and cheating, only to follow it up with sophomore hits about love and sticking by your lady from the same album.  The other conversation was with a white security guard from the bible belt that tried to tell me why 50 Cent was so “awesome“.  I spit a lengthy battle verse that I had written at him which contained some double, and even triple, meanings.  He grabbed the sides of his head like he was in pain and begged me to stop by saying, “There’s too much going on!  It’s hurting my head!“  He admitted that he didn’t care that “Candy Shop” and “Magic Stick” are basically the exact same fucking song, and that he actually looks for something without substance because it’s easy for him to work out too and ignore in the background.  I liked him and thought that he was a good person over all, but he was the type of guy that buys CDs of wrestling theme songs and would never read this far into my article anyway.  This is a prime example of people wanting to dull and numb their own minds and of what is sometimes referred to as the “disposable masses“.  I’m gonna explain to you what I explained to the security guard and offer you the same deal.  Since these rappers are only singing about how they are spending the money that you dumped on their last album, if you want to send me some loot, I’ll write you a track myself and let you know how I spent your hard earned cash.  It would be more personalized too.  I’ll describe how I went to the movies, took my lady out to dinner, bought a suit or a new wacom tablet.  Hell, I’ll even go to a film or restaurant that you’ve been meaning to try out for yourself and then write you a review that I’ll rap over a beat from my fruity-loops program.  Why experience your own dreams when you can live vicariously through a song full of experiences that you’ve financed for someone else?

The main programming has become nothing more than just a longer commercial with more celebrity endorsements.  It’s only a matter of time before we hear a Rich Boy sample in a Sargento ad reworked as, “Throw some cheese on it, on it! Just gotta have a snack!“  In 1999, I didn’t have any television reception, and would watch the same 2 films, “Boogie Nights” and “The Big Lebowski“, over and over again but they never got boring for me because, every time that I would watch them, I would discover something new.  Last year the films’ directors, The Coen Bros. and P.T. Anderson, dominated the Academy Awards and, although Marissa Tomei and Cuba Gooden JR. are also Oscar winners, I have to feel that the awards and accolades for “No Country for Old Men” and “There Will be Blood” are, somehow, intangibly worth more.  De La Soul’s introduction to “Stakes Is High” gives props to “Criminal Minded” (Boogie Down Productions) and on Talib Kweli’s “Reflection Eternal” the wordsmith makes reference to the inspiration that he received form hearing “Resurrection” (Common).  Liquid Swords has held a similar inspiration for many and, although I’m not sure if Pro Tools is on the same level, just based on the way it has already began to unfold for me, I wouldn’t put it past the album to sound better and better over time.  An album like this is as necessary now as it has ever been and I have to wonder if the situation with 50 wasn’t an added inspiration for GZA to hold off on the album’s release to allow time to perfect it.   GZA is aware of that same 85% of oblivious consumers that are being targeted by corporations, but has chosen not to view them as “disposable“.  Instead, the rapper has opted to try and offer something of substance and to provide knowledge for his listeners.  The fact that this one man has put so much thought and personal energy into his work, is the very reason that I’m willing to turn a simple concert review into a dissertation for those who want to hear it.

-Dead C

(The Arian Stevens photograph was taken @ GZA’s Portland performance.  To view more from that photoset visit Arianstevens.com or CLICK HERE)

Rock Paper Scissors.  It will make you or rape you.  Me and my fiance tend to resolve a lot of our split decisions with a simple game of Roshambo.  “Who’s car should we take?“  “What restaurant should we eat at?“  “Should we stay for another drink or go home and go to bed?“  Simple conflict resolution.  Take my advise people: Don’t wager on a game of Roshambo and, if you do, be prepared to face the consequences.

About a month ago, my fiance and I were on a nice walk on the Burke-Gilman Trail by a canal in the Fremont district of Seattle.  We were discussing the fact that I seem to be subjected to these cheesy Sandra Bullock / Jennifer Aniston, wedding and love story “chick flicks” more and more but that I can’t get her to watch any ass-kicking/horror “man movies“.  I’d had enough.  I swear to god men, if you don’t  balance your masculine and feminine entertainment, you will start to menstruate every month.  You might be telling yourself, “Whatever man!  I’m no bitch!“  but, when you find yourself snuggled up on the couch with a bottle of wine and a chocolate bar watching Project Runway, you’re beginning the transformation.  Go to the corner store, buy a couple of 40oz high gravity malt liquors, get loaded, and beat the shit out of something fast!

So, we decide to make a fair wager.  If I win, she has to see a horror movie and, if she wins, I have to go with her to see Sex and the City.  Well my friend, I wouldn’t be writing this article if I had won, so I’m in the position of settling up with a Sex and the City evening of magic and wonder.

The evening begins in the upper middle class neighborhood of Wallingford.  I take her to the Wallingford Pizza House on 45th which, by the way, is an amazing place to eat if you ever get the chance.  It’s not too expensive and the food and drink selection is wonderful.  Anyway, I make it a point to order a caraf of burgundy wine in hopes of easing the increasing tension in my neck.  We enjoy our sensational upside down pizza bowls and I engage in conversation as long as I possibly can so that I don’t have to stand in line too long at the theater.

When we the left the resaurant, I had a buzz that motivated me down the street to the Guild Theater where the film was playing.  As we walked up I noticed the groups of woman (NO MEN!) crowding around the ticket booth.  In hesitation, I continued walking and went right past the theater and on to a sports bar a couple of blocks down the street.  I needed a cigarette and they had a little smoking section out front of the establishment.  I usually need a smoke after a caraf of wine or when I’m avoiding something anyway.  I smoke fast, walk back to the theater and, by that point, my mindset is, “Alright fuck it, let’s rock this bitch!“  My fiancee is rubbing my shoulders, very aware of the awkwardness that I’m experiencing.  She says, “Ok, I’ll see one of your movies next time“.

When we finally approach the ticket booth, it is occupied by two men, of course.  I buck up and say in a half whisper, “Two for Sex and the City“.  They look me up and down and give me a cheesy smile.  I return their look with my own, “I will cut you” look and we preceed into the theater.  I purchase my usual Swedish Fish and a small Sprite and we go find our seats.

I admit that I have not actually even seen one complete episode from the TV series, so I cannot really offer an accurate review of any sort.  I can say, however, that there were way too many dick jokes for me to deal with.  I guess I would say that it’s about high maintenance alcoholic women who date gay men with no opinions, get disappointed when their expectations are never met, and then complain to eachother while they’re smashed on cosmopolitans.  That would pretty much cover it.  I’ve never sat through a movie before where I continually hoped that I’d have to go to the bathroom.  It was like going to Nordstroms and shopping with your mom for panties.  To be honest, I’ve only been sent to the store to pick up tampons once and, even then, I ended up shoplifting them. I smuggled them out of the store in my pants, as if getting caught wouldn’t have been more embarrassing.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with being in touch with your feminine side.  We all have one and I think that it’s an essential part in truly knowing yourself.  Believe it or not, these situations are not even strictly exclusive to heterosexuals because I know gay and lesbian couples who have the same issues with this shit.  Only one gay man loves Sex and the City or one lesbian partner loves the show Charmed while the other one can’t fucking stand it.  Honestly, I would go to a million of these movies for my woman because I love her but, if your women expect you to go see this type of shit all of the time, but never recognize the sacrifice that you’re making, then you are a bitch and you need to pull your balls out of your ass.  I actually recommend that you do, at least occasionally, go to these type of events with your lady and do so by your own free will.  She will, most likely, recognize that you’re making an effort for her and, when you get home, will return the favor by making you feel like a man again.  She may, however, think that you will forget about the promise to see a film of your choosing, as she has.  Bless her soul, because I’m cashing in on this one, but I’m waiting for something as equally detestable and nefarious, except on the other end of the spectrum (see also: Dead End, Hostel, Old Boy, The Hills Have Eyes, etc).

-O.G

FUN FACT:
The term “Roshambo” has also been adopted to describe a game in which participants take turns kicking eachother in the testicles until one of them (the “loser”) can no longer stand.

Either you know who Wesley Willis was, or you don’t. Maybe one of your friends told you about him, describing him as a “street-musician,” “schizophrenic,” or perhaps they even attempted to convey some sort of sample lyric from one of his songs. But you can’t know who Welsey Willis is until you have heard one of his songs and, after that, the name tends to stick.

I first heard about Wesley through my friend Aaron. He told me a story about some friends of his who had given Wesley a ride from a music festival in Minnesota back to his home town of Chicago. What I gathered from his story was that Wesley Willis was a 300+ lb. schizophrenic homeless man from Chicago who writes songs with amusing titles and lyrics (i.e. – “Suck A Cheetah’s Dick”).  I was intrigued, but the force of Willis’ impact did not reach full until I was actually played a few songs. “Chronic Schizophrenia”, “Rock & Roll McDonalds”, and “Outburst” all sounded the same, covered similar themes, and typified Willis’ stream-of-consciousness-rambling-verse followed by chanting-repetitive-chorus  followed back into, stream-of-consciousness-rambling-verse style. I was immediately smitten.  As were a number of us.

Sure, the irony might be lost on the numbest American drones, but those assholes don’t read MosterFresh.com (unless they’re visiting to read about Sarah Larson, George Clooney’s latest girl-toy). But the irony that has become a religion for my generation, as well as next week’s, is embodied in Willis’ music.

In the new documentary Wesley Willis’s Joyrides, filmmakers,  Chris Bagley and Kim Shively, don’t try too hard to decipher the roots of Willis’ complicated personality. Although several interviewees speculate on sources of Willis’ mental illness(es) and unique character, the subject of the film is much more about who Willis was rather than why he may have been that way. Through interviews with friends and family, as well as video footage of the artist himself, his story is told almost as if he were still around (Willis died of leukemia in 2003 at the age of 40). Wesley’s death is barely mentioned until the last minutes of the film, in part because the bulk of the video content was filmed prior to his death.

The film’s success as a documentary is owed to its presentation. Rather than unfolding through a chronological line of events, the film moves organically through the many facets of the musician’s intense personality. The film begins with a portrait of Wesley as a visual artist, sketching cityscapes of the Chicago buildings and highways he grew up around. Willis’ ignorance of conventions (When asked by a fellow drafting student why he always draws with a blue Bic pen, Willis responds, “Because they’re blueprints.”) was far overshadowed by his artistic grasp of visual planes and acute memory for details. Wesley would draw intricate Chicago skylines, often from memory, of the buildings and views he grew up seeing around him. Wesley made many friends (and a modest living) selling drawings to tourists, passer-byes, and anyone who could get past his intimidating appearance to appreciate his unique perspective.

The film then shifts toward Wesley’s musical career. Friend and band mate Dale Meiners describes the rise and fall of The Wesley Willis Fiasco, the latter of which can be largely contributed to Willis’ schizophrenia. The group enjoyed moderate success with Willis at the helm, at least enough to tour regularly and receive a guest spot on MTV. But as the “demons in his head” worsened, Wesley became violent and even more unpredictable, eventually leading to the band’s demise.

Willis’ popularity ensured him a busy solo career, and Wesley continued to travel, perform, and head-butt his fans, despite his growing mental health problems. Wesley was eventually prescribed medication, which calms his schizophrenic outbursts enough for others to feel safe around him. But a busy touring schedule and inability/refusal to renew his prescriptions often left Wesley in a volatile state. The strain this puts on his relationships is apparent; Wesley’s friends love him and realized how important making and performing music is to his mental balance, but a lingering threat of violence and unpredictable fear always surrounded the troubled artist.

As the film delves deeper into his mental health conflicts, the mood takes a decidedly somber turn. Skeletons from Willis’ closet are revealed- abusive and neglectful parents, poverty, being assaulted with a box-cutter on a public bus, and being robbed for his artistic earnings by his stepfather at a young age. One scene shows Willis battling with the demons in his head while a frightened Kinko’s customer observes. The artist punches his head repeatedly, nearly busting his headphones, as he innocently explains to his workstation neighbor that the demons aren’t allowing him to listen to his music.

But while his “demons” constantly cast an ominous shadow over Wesley, the purity and innocence of his character outshine the darkness. As Jello Biafra (friend and Alternative Tentacle Records owner) explained in a Q&A after the screening, for all of Willis’ fears, Wesley genuinely “loved life.” When Wesley boarded a plane, for example, he would provoke only terrified looks and nervous requests for a new seat. But by the end of the flight, Willis would have converted all of the uneasiness of those around him into joy. He seemed to have a way of convincing others of his merit despite his disheveled appearance, most likely assisted by his own ignorance of both.

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gxZrEOhhvkY

Here is a challenge to any and all MonsterFresh readers (or, at least those already familiar with Willis and his work):
Describe Wesley Willis to someone close to you but who may be unfamiliar with his catalog. Then go see the film. If you can comfortably use that same description before and after seeing the film, then I guess you…..”win“?  Perhaps we can even send you a button or something? I’ll see if I can get some for our readers (admission to the screening included a Wesley Willis button). No promises, though.

The point is, the name “Wesley Willis“ has a lot of buzzwords associated with it. Many of them are negative. The words “Schizophrenic,” “Homeless,” “Unpredictable,” “Over 300 pounds” are not exactly flattering descriptions that anyone would want applied to them. And while the film never tries to deny any of the associations people have with the name (except for “Homeless,” which Willis was often falsely assumed to be, given his poor hygiene), the strength and integrity of Wesley’s character cuts through any of the adjectives that are often used to pigeon-hole him. It is this juxtaposition that makes Willis so available to the audience, which is precisely what makes the film such a success.

Plus, “Cut The Mullet” is a kick-ass song.

-Memes

music

November 8, 2007
Double Door, Chicago, IL

The Meat Puppets
Ha Ha Tonka
Balloonatic

Hello, my name is Slug, and welcome to my first article for MonsterFresh.com. It is a humble article, but it had ambitions to be so much more. Originally, this article was going to be a big, garish piece of writing, throwing around big, garish quotations by the Kirkwood Brothers of The Meat Puppets, one of the best psychedelic rock bands ever, revealing all their drugged-out splendor firsthand. They were the first band I ever saw perform live on stage when I was 16 back in 1994, and I had goose bumps I was so excited. However, instead of my great big garish expose, I am left with only one quote by one band member, which I will get to momentarily, and a lesson learned, which I will close this article with.

After trying for weeks to schedule an interview with The Meat Puppets before either of their shows at the Double Door here in Chicago on November 7-8, I was at least able to get on the guest list for the second show on the 8th. Once there, I figured I would be able to work my way backstage and attempt a spontaneous interview, and I was off to the show, recorder in tow.To start the evening, two bands opened the show, Balloonatic and Ha Ha Tonka. I was too late for the Balloonatic set, but I did catch Ha Ha Tonka. They were okay, better than most opening bands, but still a little too polished and poppy (alas, not of the opiated sort) for my tastes. They had rough sketches of a Rolling Stones sensibility not short on bluesy power chords and cheesy lyrics, the type of style very popular with young rock bands trying to break the scene. While they did provide some rocking tunes for me to get drunk to, as soon as I looked at the stage, I choked on my Pabst, as they had the appearance of a post-indie radio band destined for one-hit-wonder status. To distract myself, I meandered over to the merchandise table.At the merchandise table is where the night gets interesting. Since I had not paid for a ticket, I decided to buy a concert poster for $10. However, there was no re-entry, and I did not want to hold onto the damn thing all night. I started schmoozing with the merch guy, who eventually said he would walk me through the backstage entrance to run to my car, drop off the poster, and let me back in the Double Door’s second door. Just as we turn toward the backstage area, the man himself, the infamous Cris Kirkwood walks into the bar and starts talking to my new buddy, the merch guy…

…Before I continue with the evening’s story, I would like to preface it by saying that the Meat Puppets originally split up in 1996, due in part to Cris’ raging substance abuse problems. It is widely known that he would partake in just about anything and everything, heroin and cocaine being his substances of choice. There are stories around the web detailing Cris’ rollercoaster life, including two possible deaths (one being his wife) at his Arizona residence where the band used to rehearse. Most recently, he was released from prison in 2005 following an altercation with a security guard at a post office. Apparently, he and a woman began arguing over a parking spot, and when the guard intervened, Cris grabbed the guard’s baton. In the ensuing melee, the guard shot Cris twice, sending him to the hospital, after which he would spend 18 months in prison for felony assault. In summary, Cris is one fucked up dude, at the same time both lucky and cursed. And his appearance told it all: his long, Scarecrow gray hair, his scruffy gray beard, the crazed look in his eyes, and enough wrinkles on his grizzled face for every drug he’s ever done, and probably for each day he spent in the clink. While Cris was dealing with his troubles, brother Curt continued to make stellar music. If you are not familiar, check out the self-titled album by Eyes Adrift, the short-lived supergroup Curt formed with the bassist from Nirvana, Krist Novoselic, and the drummer from Sublime, Bud Gaugh. It’s a wonderful album that any Meat Puppets fan is sure to enjoy. But I digress…

The merch guy nods in my general direction, but Cris was oblivious (as I had expected he would be). I am told to follow them, and proceed to the backstage entrance. Once there, they run out to the street to their van, and I am under the impression that I am about to get high with one of the biggest drug addicts in modern rock history. Unfortunately, all I got was my one quote for the evening…

“Hey, hold that door!“, Cris yelled at me.

There I was standing at the backstage door, turning street people away from the entrance, while the guy I wanted to meet was likely getting high in a van maybe 20 feet away.  I felt like a chump. Minutes later, they come back in, Cris breezes right past me, and the merch guy tells me to run fast to my car.  I drop off the poster, and return through the backstage entrance.  That was the last of my backstage experience for the evening, but not for a lack of trying.

Before the end of the Ha Ha Tonka set, Cris joined them on stage for a short collaborative effort that got the crowd excited. Shortly thereafter, the Meat Puppets show begins, Curt and the new drummer Ted Marcus (who replaced the retired Derrick Bostrom) joining Cris on stage. And to my pleasant surprise, they were tearing up the joint, rockin out like a bunch of high and angry teenagers who had gotten all F’s on their report card because they huffed too much Glade and got grounded for summer break.  In other words, they hadn’t lost a step.

I didn’t keep an accurate setlist, for I was much too drunk for that bit of obsessive/compulsive nonsense.  I do remember my own highlights, though.  I remember the first song I recognized was the title track from Up on the Sun, arguably their best album ever next to Meat Puppets II.  It was a great rendition, with Cris jumping around on stage, bangin his head, and laying down thick thumping basslines.  At one point, I turned to the merch guy and said, “Goddamn, Cris is playing like a madman, like a man who just got released from prison!” It was funny ’cause it was true, and we both had a good laugh.

The Puppets also played a number of tunes from Meat Puppets II, including the three songs performed with Nirvana during their Unplugged gig, “Plateau,“ “Lake of Fire,” and “Oh, Me.” From my hazy drunken memory, I also remember the songs off their outstanding new album, Rise to Your Knees, fitting in well with their past repertoire, a true sign that this band is not just playing the mid-life crisis/reunion shows, but that in this day and age of poser-wannabe major label indie bands and homogenized crap rock, The Meat Puppets are still a viable rock band, among the best in the business.  They encored with their only radio hit, “Backwater,” and I was blown away at how good it still sounds, even after all these years. Curt’s guitar solo in this song alone is worth the price of admission.

After the show, I was told to stick around and there was a possibility I could meet the band.  So I hung loose, downed a couple more Pabst, and waited for my opportunity.  As time continued to pass, I started to fear I would not get my chance. I decided to take matters into my own hand, and this is where I learned a hard lesson.  I found out where the band was, and tried to get past the doorman.  After me running my mouth long enough, he went back to ask the band if I could shake their hands.  And I quote, “I’m sorry, but the band is trying to get high, and they don’t want to be bothered. You don’t have anything to offer do you?” Well, unfortunately, I didn’t. I had spent the previous couple days leading up to the concert trying to score some combination of illegal substances, but as I’m new to Chicago, I only have a couple connections, all of which were unavailable. I hoped that it would not be an issue, but I was wrong. Instead, I was forced to walk away with my tail between my legs. I mean, what self-respecting music journalist tries to gain access to a backstage pow-wow WITHOUT drugs???? Well, my lesson was learned.

Morals of the story:
1) The Meat Puppets still rock
and
2) Never approach rock stars without a stash.

-Slug

Easily one of the most influential musical groups of the last two decades is Sonic Youth.  Since their first official concert in 1981, they have consitently been pumping out new releases and performing at least semi-regularly.  Last year I caught them as they toured for their latest group release, Rather Ripped, and I was blown away by what an enthralling live act they continue to be 25 years later.  This year front man Thurston Moore has released another solo effort on his own Ecstatic Peace label titled Trees Outside the Academy.  I have plenty to ramble on about this album, and believe me I will, but in a word I’d say, “Gobuyitrightnowit’sreallygood“.

This millenium, Thurston and Sonic Youth have re-released deluxe editions of some of their earlier works, like Daydream Nation and Goo, while simultaneously expanding their catalog with new releases.  As a precursor to Trees Outside the Academy, a re-issue of Moore’s first full-length solo album Psychic Hearts (Geffen 1995) was released last year.  It originally came out a year after, friend and fellow songwriter, Kurdt Cobain tragically died and included the 20 min. epic instrumental Elegy for All the Dead Rock Stars. It also included drawing on the cover that looked suspiciously like Courtney Love holding her daughter in one arm and a shotgun in the other.  I have been listening to both solo albums a lot lately and they are remarkably different.  One thing that hasn’t changed is that he still looks like a goddam member of the Way Outs.

When listening to Trees Outside the Academy it was instantly apparent that I was listening to a Thurston Moore project.  It’s a hard thing to avoid because the man has been crafting his own distinct style for years, but there is also clear evolution in his sound.  The timing of the Psychic Hearts re-release not long before this new album was set perfectly.  If you have listened to a particular artist with that of Moore’s extensive catalog spanning over a period of this many years, the change may be so gradual that it isn’t as easy to put your finger on the specific varying details right away.  It seems to be an organic process with Moore because his songs do not sound forced or contrived, but when you take a new release and pair it with one that came out 13 years prior, it becomes hard not to notice that they are obviously very separate entities.

The first song on Trees is Frozen Gtr.  It starts off with a haunting squeel but then promptly drops into a simple yet solid acoustic guitar.  The squeel casually merges, almost seamlessly, with Samara Lubelski’s violin and softly fades away.  Jay Mascis, frontman of recently reformed Dinosaur Jr., plays lead guitar on the track as well as 3 other songs on the album, which was recorded at his Bisquiteen studio in Amherst Massachusettes. The studio space is actually made up of the entire 3rd floor of Mascis’ home.

John Agnello, who also produced Rather Ripped, does a great job on this disc.  The John Siket engineered Psychic Hearts had a much more raw and urgent sound to it, which is interesting when you consider that Trees Outside the Academy was just recorded this summer.  This means that they must have popped this one out pretty fucking quick, something that does not come through at all in its sound.  Psychic Hearts was fairly gritty and went more for stacked driving rythms and feedback.  This album is mostly acoustic and, although there is still quite a bit going on sonically and with layered sound,  you seem to be able to make out each and every one of those sounds individually and they play off of eachother extremely well.  I wouldn’t say that it is more produced and I definitely wouldn’t call it overproduced, but one thing that I can say is that it is very well produced.

This time Thurston seems to focus more on weaving his guitar work in, out and around the other instruments.  There is less reliance on one giant simultaneous whoosh of synchronized noise and bold rythms to enhance different aspects of the music, instead the songs are often elevated by gradual, more relaxed and notier guitar work.  One standout track that reflects this method is Siver>Blue, which melds into an instrumental interlude much like that of Murray Street’s Rain on Tin.

There is a quote from the Silver Jews song We Are Real where Dave Berman sings, “All My Favorite Singers Couldn’t Sing” and I’m glad that Thurston isn’t afraid to try and sing on this album.  Of course he did “sing” on Psychic Hearts but his voice was so processed at times that, although it is still a great album, it felt that he almost hid behind the production.  He doesn’t have the range of Celine Dion but who the fuck likes Celine Dion?  Seriously, who’s buying that shit?  What that Canadian android has in vocal range she more than lacks in an emotional range.  Thurston’s voice sounds sincere and it works great on every track.  Perhaps Siket’s idea of production back when Psychic Hearts came out was, “If you aren’t dealing with musicians is specifically strong vocally, fuck it!  We can mask it!” Maybe that’s why he’s made a lot of money producing albums for Phish.  It seems that this album is more aware of all of the different ingredients that are being brought to the table and let’s them work for themselves.  It doesn’t just mix everything together into one bowl and throw it on a plate.  That’s the difference between a chef and the people who cry and get knives thrown at them on Hells Kitchen.  There are still intense waves of noise on this album, as in the title track, but even the distortion seems reigned in to the point where you can actually appreciate it on a whole other level.  The track Off Work begins like a frenzied tornado but transitions itself into wonderfully orchestrated parts remiscent of the Nick Drake album Bryter Later.

Much like Psychic Hearts which gave nods to Yoko Ono and endless props to Patti Smith, Thurston is shown on the back cover of the Trees booklet holding a vinyl copy of Horses, however the booklet is also filled with photos of him and wife Kim Gordon throughout the many years that they have been together.  The last song on the album is a straight to cassette recording of Thurston Moore from 1971 when he was only 13.  He sounds like a kid fucked up on acid and the entire “song” consists of him doing mineal shit like spraying disinfectant and dropping quarters on his table.

I don’t know if there is a specific message intended with Trees Outside the Academy but I can tell you what I got from it.  Among all of the preconceptions and work that Moore has produced over the years, including the series of abstract noise albums that Sonic Youth put out confusing much of their audience, it seems that now more than ever the songwriter can say, “Here’s a dumb tape I made when I was a kid.  Here’s my voice, this is what it sounds like.  Here I am on an acoustic guitar and it still sounds great.  I have my own label and I control what I do.  I’m a good songwriter and I can do this too.“  He doesn’t re-invent himself in the same way that a Marilyn Manson might try and re-invent himself by blatantly ripping off the various incarnations that David Bowie has already used to re-invented himself.  Instead, he simply progresses and, on this album, he took an opportunity to display and highlight abilities that were already within him.  Moore has become an iconic figure and rightfully so, but he’s the type of artist that couldn’t ever adequately be described as a “one-note“.  Even if he only ever played one note he would sure as hell find a new way transform it into something different every time.

-Dead C

Click Here to buy this album directly from Ecstatic Peace for only $9
or pick it up on the new Vinyl picture disc
(100 limited signed copies also available)

A month or so ago, an old friend of mine was in town and we were having a couple of PBRs at a local bar.   We were talking about the website when he said to me “You should talk with A****, you know that Ratatouille movies about him“.  A**** is a mutal friend of ours that he still sees regularly but that I haven’t seen in years.  I was pretty skeptical at first.  In fact, I thought that he was just fucking around with me, but I got A****’s number from him anyway and gave him a call.  I reached an answering machine and left a message to let him know that I wanted to find out what what all of the this Ratatouille jive was all about.  I hadn’t heard anything back and figured that all he would say to me was, “KB is full of shit!  He thinks that I look like that fucking PIXAR cartoon“.  A couple of weeks ago, however, I did recieve an email from A**** and what he had to say was a completely different story all together.  I felt that the email was compelling and I told him that I was going to post it, especially since the much hyped DVD release was yesterday.  He agreed and sent an added paragraph which has been added to the beginning. Below is his statement unedited and its content does not necessarily reflect the views or opinions of MonsterFresh.com.
Thank you
-Dead C

“ Most people regret the things they say when they are drunk or under the influence. It is quite the opposite for me, sobriety makes me do and say crazy shit. Needless to say I wrote this SOBER first thing in the morning. It’s something absolutely true and not very shocking; ABC/Disney is unoriginal and racist. Ratatouille is the latest monstrosity to devour American’s Federal Reserve notes like so much cheese, and I will tell you a firsthand account of being exploited by Mickey with both intellectual property and likeness rights. I will never watch this film unless I get a Canal St. bootleg and even then I would rather spend my $.99 on a 20 oz of purple flavored Faygo. Don’t pay for anything TWDC (The Walt Disney Company) makes or is associated with!! ” –A****

My name is A***. If you ask me what I am I will say human. “Be more specific“. “I have a penis?” “No what is your ethnicity“.   “Oh, mixed race“.   People really get pissed when you don’t categorize yourself.  From my experience, folks who are half black consider themselves black.  So I represent Libya & Ireland & Scotland, but the Irish won’t have me, I don’t speak Arabic.  Man would I have a problem inside jail.  My point is you can’t tell where I come from by looking @ me. To your average Joe, my name could sound Italian; I guess I look Greek, maybe?

My old man owned a restaurant and all my friends are cooks so naturally I picked it up. It’s fulfilling with the added reward of being unchallenging. So fast forward to 2005, I get a job cooking for the Riverside Commissary, in the ABC building at Walt Disney Studios right across from the Feature Animation Studio. . The clientele varies from the middle aged Executive Assistant with adequacy problems and dirty-butt computer animators, to rap stars (LL Cool J, Fat Joe & Terror Squad) to B Movie Actors past their prime trying to get a shot at an ABC sitcom like Daniel Baldwin (he’s the real fat one) and Tori Spelling.  Once when Johnny Depp was on the set on Pirates the chef said, “If you see him don’t say anything   please“.  What am I going to tell him, to take some acting lessons from LL?

The ABC building is an 11 story building in Burbank, and sticks out like a sore thumb @ the 134/210/I-5 interchange. It is also a rat infested kitchen nightmare.  Gordon Ramsay would shit his pants.  We caught this fat, fat rat one day and the chef goes “____, kill that rat“.  So I take it outside to the parking lot between the commissary and the animation studio and set it free.  Fuck, I’d be eating here too if I was a rat. Well that turned into an ordeal, a big one and soon everyone knows I let it go rather than kill it, I kind of got in trouble and it got blown out of proportion.  They still have a rat problem

Disney is constantly laying people off, which is why they are always stating gains on Wall Street and their stock remains strong. This makes the employees walk the halls in constant fear of underachievement and they are all vying for the same jobs.  This mass disgruntlement rolls down the hill and the worker bees at TWDC harass the caterers to the point of near postal insanity.  My disgruntled ass was always returning comments to the artists, especially when they’d criticize the food.  “Pork chops again?“, they’d say to which I’d reply, “Why is Finding Nemo’s dad such a tight-ass neurotic Jew“.  All the animators are plain yogurt, and like 2 Korean dudes. They all dress like shit and have bad haircuts.  One guy wore the same converse hoody for like a year straight.  No color, no flavor.  I wonder where they animate the proud family?   When anyone wanted to discuss my work I’d flip it twice fold and it made me stand out among my fellow cooks (almost exclusively Latin-American immigrants, I’m a Libyan-American immigrant).  Even better, I’d let my opinions be known when not even provoked; Chicken Little was an all white cast of all white trash (Zach Braff? Ugh!) even though it supposedly takes place in Sherman Oaks (Oaky Oaks, haha real creative assholes).   Like the time I asked the lead animators about Meet the Robinsons, “What there aren’t any brown people in the future?” I actually reused that line from the Jetsons movie from 1990 starring Tiffany as daughter Judy (hey, at least she has an interracial relationship with Apollo Blue in that film) so, they’re comparable and I love getting to reuse my comedy routines when applicable.  So, I was notorious around there for crushing animators.  Apparently there was a chat board and blogs dedicated to the shit I’d say, but you have to be on the Disney Network to access it.  A lot of them really liked me because I’m real and reasonable that’s why they’ve cursed me for eternity with the homage known as Ratatouille.

Let’s discuss TWDC (the Walt Disney company) a moment; they influence every facet of entertainment from films and music to videogames. We’ve all read classic Disney strips featuring Mickey hunting packs of “wild niggers“, scribed and inked by none other than the Nazi sympathizer. A favorite cartoon feature of mine recently released from the Disney “vault” was the Jungle Book based on Rudyard Kipling books. (Kipling; a brit, notorious racist, imperialist and militarist born in Bombay) The only one with a person with brown skin, (the Arabs in Aladdin are Caucasian) and he’s the only human character, and the hero, and the protagonist.  That’s not why I liked it when I was young, I didn’t even notice because I saw a man cub in a loincloth. They still have yet to make a feature with brown people, just one at a time please. I didn’t realize that Louie king of the apes was supposed black American jazz musician, and all the whooping chimps were his homies, I just knew that they wanted to walk and talk like Mowgli.  Brown people en masse are frightening to America which is why they are represented by Monkeys and more complimentary: Lions in the Lion King. This wasn’t their first offense by any means, but Disney basically set the pace for themselves and the competing entertainment world to feature any people any way they saw fit.  Like the gay neighbor in Breakfast at Tiffany’s who was turned Chinese instead in the final script.  You can say that the animations reflect the attitudes at the time of the movie’s release.  So the giant dildo on the cover of The Little Mermaid represents?

The decade I grew up in, the 1980’s, seemed overly racially progressive in the visual medias. A trend of Hollywood empowering people of color took place, like the Indian dude from Short Circuit. It seemed the future was now (ex. Jem & the Holograms, G.I. Joe, Ghostbusters, Captain Planet, all multiracial) and the future held real creativity(Image comics were a bunch of pissed disheartened Marvel writers and Artists who wanted creative freedom and made the fastest selling most successful comics in history starring a multiracial cast of supremely powerful heroes, some antipatriotic and homosexual), not just ” hey let’s make the Jellyfish on Shark Tale (DreamWorks) offensively Jamaican.”

Examples of successful books and films and games that characterize race are Star Wars (The Trade Fed are Japanese, Jawas and Tusken Raiders are Arabs, Hutts are Jews, Lando is a traitor) and The Lord of the Rings (the evil tribes from the east and the south join the tribes of orcs, evil mud creatures born of sorcery) even Super Mario, my favorite, is an awful greasy wop.  Like in 1997, when Mario 64 came out, and you finally hear Mario’s voice the cheapest Italian accent say “Let’sah GO!“  And really everyone is doing it and its all fucking O.K because we’ve all heard these complaints before and no one does anything.

A few more examples of racial categorization and association from The Walt Disney Company; 7 Dwarves live in recluse like they should, and are known by their social debilitations.  Pinocchio bags uneducated Italian gypsy, that fuckers name is Stromboli.  Darth Vader and Mufasa are like the only “black king” characters ever, both voiced by the king of Zamunda (another progressive racial film)  Tigger from Pooh, Worf from Star Trek, and Barrett from Final Fantasy (the only black guy in a video game besides Mike Tyson, all obnoxious black guys that nullify anything that was OVERdone in the 80′s to empower “colored folks“).  If you remember the original words to “Arabian Nights” song they say, “where they cut off your ears if they don’t like your face, it’s barbaric but its home”.  Which anti-Islamic goon is responsible for that one. It pissed off enough folks that they changed it for the home release but I always remember being personally offended as an Arab-type person.  I was a smart enough kid that by the time I was old enough to decide what I liked for myself (age 9?) I completely disassociated myself from anything fake, racist, or cheesy (basically America), and it did make me suffer a little because knocking everything can be a risk as well as a reward in the sense that you can miss out on truly awesome stuff when not paying attention (like Missy Elliott, or Batman: The Dark Knight).  Never mind my Lavender Mafia conspiracy theories, where is the tolerance, and who is blowing the whistle on people for producing art that subconsciously affect popular opinion.  Just because it’s a Walt Disney classic doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be ripped off the shelves and burned so that future generations can thank us for freeing their psyches from the mental locks imposed by a certain fascist mouse.  This is how I felt going in there, imagine after 2 years of work.  Mickey is more like a fucking rat.

Then I find out that the new animated feature is about rats in a kitchen, that’s ok I guess you need your inspiration from somewhere. But it gets worse, they make all the cooks greasy foreigners that fucking look just like me and  the other cooks. I saw the fat one looks just like this Mexican dude Simon Aguilera, squinty eyed and poncho villa mustache but the main character, (named fucking Linguini the most racist Italian slur since Stromboli from Pinnocchio) is supposed to be me!! I was shocked; anyone who knows me and my manners knows that this lanky big nosed foreigner featured  WAS ME!  A____ _________ is Linguini the simpleton loser cook! Sure he’s been Anglicized, but it’s so obviously a caricature I can’t help but think that they dug up these artists off the boardwalk Venice Beach style.

I guess that was their revenge for my honesty in their swindles. They steal every idea ever given. They steal ideas from DreamWorks (Ants/Bugs Life, Nemo/Sharks Tale) and ruin everything by owning it eventually. While talking with one of the animators I once let it slip that I’d love to see an animated feature that took place in Mario bros. or Nintendo world like Captain N or a MMORPG like World of Warcraft or the like.  I would not be fucking surprised at all if that is either their next or next after that animated feature, so listen carefully remember my words here, Hollywood fucking does.