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God dammit, the problem with rock and roll these days is that everyone just buys their instruments from a fracking music store. Whatever happened to pride in craftsmanship? Whatever happened to DIY? Remember when people actually had to build their own instruments, back in…uh…1287?
Thank god for the installation art nerds in Boston’s Neptune, who have no time for such frivolity and foolishness as “shopping” or “visiting music stores,” well, because they build their own instruments out of scrap metal. SCRAP METAL, you shits. You want “industrial?” They got it right here:
Jesus H, you could put an eye out with that thing.
Neptune are hitting the road on Feb. 28th in support of their abrasive new face-scraper Gong Lake. Neptune’s songs are as cold, unyielding, and disarming as their instruments–and obviously, the show is something to witness live. That sass is in the main: Read more »
Now mind you, folks, this is PURELY rumor at this point, but the buzz afoot is that the unquestioned champions of Midwest sludge, thee unholy KILLDOZER, are pondering a one-off reunion gig in their hometown of Madison, WI, sometime later this year. Friends of the band have reported the band members saying “maybe” to this proposed get-together, so for all we know it’s just talk right now. But just the fact that Michael Gerald and the brothers Hobson haven’t outright said “no, fuck that shit” is cause for celebration.
Killdozer stole the show at day 2 of the Touch and Go 25th anniversary weekend at the Hideout in Chicago in September 2006. Hours after they had left the stage, drunken Wisconsinites annoyed the piss out of anyone trying to pay attention to Man…or Astroman? by chanting “KILL-DO-ZER! FUCK-THE OTH-ER BANDS!” nonstop between their songs. If this show happens i’ll be in the front row. Stay tuned…
In the meantime, click here for a reminder of what could be in store in Madison come autumn–footage of Killdozer’s last song at T&G 25.
Note: the graphic accompanying this post is the cover of Killdozer’s live album, The Last Waltz, which was re-released on vinyl a couple years ago by Madison’s own Crustacean Records. You could do a whole lot worse than picking up that unfuckwithable slab o’ wax. And while you’re at it, you can also pickup Crustacean’s We Will Bury You: A Tribute to Killdozer, which features two exclusive ‘Dozer tracks as well as covers of Killdozer classics from the likes of Hunchback, Rocket Fuel is the Key, Season to Risk, and–what are the odds?–IfIHadAHiFi. Just sayin’.
The news that legendary bipolar outsider musician Daniel Johnston was touring this year was met by yours truly with no small amount of surprise. While i had become interested in Johnston’s career thanks to the 2005 documentary The Devil and Daniel Johnston (yes, i’m not gonna put on airs here–while i had heard of Daniel before that movie’s release, it was the film that truly opened the door to Daniel’s psyche for me), i hadn’t been paying enough attention to realize that he was actually healthy enough to play shows, let alone tour. So when tickets went on sale for his Feb. 7th concert at historic Turner Hall in Milwaukee, i grabbed mine immediately. After all, what are the chances he’ll come back to Brewtown any time soon?
My friends and i showed up at Turner around 8:30, just in time to miss opening act The Scarring Party, but let’s not dwell on that. As we made our way into the hall, the second opening band, Milwaukee’s John Sieger and The Subcontinentals, were playing incredibly boring, vanilla adult contemporary blues-rock that appealed to…well, i’m not sure who. Maybe there were some fifty-year-old Wisconsin Area Music Industry members in the audience. I know it made my friend Alex “Climax Denial” Kmet want to claw his eyes out, since that’s easier and more evocative than clawing out one’s ears, which would have made more sense. I wanted him to help me with mine. (Ears or eyes, you ask? Yes. Ears AND eyes.)
As Johnston began his set with “Speeding Motorcycle,” he had the Subcontinentals behind him, assuming the role of nondescript backing band, to which, frankly, they were better suited. Still, my friends and i let out a sigh of relief when they left the stage, leaving Daniel alone with his guitar, his songs, his wavering voice (and hands), and his adoring audience. About those hands–they shook throughout the show, betraying either nerves or some side effect from his condition. Either way, it provided a convenient microcosm of the larger performance in progress–Daniel, alone on stage, fighting with every last ounce of resolve to battle back the demons and put on a show for the Milwaukeeans yelling “we love you Daniel!” And battle he did, with guitar, piano, and his college friend Brett Hartenbach, who played a good chunk of the set on acoustic guitar while Daniel just sang, vibrating with electricity from either his music or the dark bits of his brain–you decide which. Both, most likely.
Through the entire show i sat, my every ounce of attention fixated on Daniel’s earnest, childlike voice, drinking in every rhythmic inaccuracy, every occasionally flubbed note. There’s a school of thought (mostly expressed when discussing the late schizophrenic Chicago street performer Wesley Willis) that says it’s unkind to enjoy seeing a mentally damaged soul bear their heart onstage–that it’s tantamount to exploitation somehow. Which is ridiculous, of course. Watching Daniel Johnston perform his signature encore of “True Love Will Find You in the End” is nothing short of inspiring. To see someone who’s lived as difficultly as Daniel Johnston, only to live as fully as he has (and to have been found by that True Love, even if it’s in the form of weird douchey college hippies obnoxiously yelling “DANIEL!” between every song right behind where i was sitting, consarn it), makes the shit we have to deal with every day seem like a cakewalk by comparison.
But screw all the eloquent waxing and flowery prose–it’s just a damn good show. If the tour’s coming near you, don’t be an idiot–this is a once-in-a-lifetime engagement. Do it up.
Current Confirmed Daniel Johnston remaining tour dates:
02-20 Boston, MA - Roxy
02-21 New York, NY - Highline Ballroom
02-22 Philadelphia, PA - Trocadero Theater
02-23 Washington, DC - Black Cat
02-24 Baltimore, MD - Ottobar
Can you imagine how excited i was to hear that Rick Froberg, one half of the creative force behind one of my favorite now-departed bands, Hot Snakes, recently played his first show with his new band, Obits, at New York City’s Cake Shop? Can you really?
How about the excitement of hearing word on the internets that this new band, these Obits, sounds like a cross between CCR and another Froberg joint, the venerable Drive Like Jehu?
If the words “mind blown” and “enormous boner” spring to mind, you’re pretty close to accurate.
Now, take that knowledge and add, as the cherry on the top of DJ’s orgasmo-rock sundae, the discovery that the first-ever Obits show was bootlegged and posted online, and, well, this blog post could take a downright awkward and uncomfortable turn for the rest of you.
I’ll be in my bunk.
[two minutes later]
As of right now, the sendspace link for the show is still good, so download it while you can. If you’re a fan of Jehu and Hot Snakes, be assured that Obits bring the rock and bring it hard, in a more straightforward, slightly more classic rock, but still blistering Froberg style. I cannot wait for the album.
Oh, and by the way, Froberg’s longtime running buddy, Hot Snakes and Rocket From the Crypt alum John Reis, has started playing out with his new outfit Night Marchers, and like Obits, it’s everything you could hope from ol’ Speedo. Check out their MySpace and groove to some farfisa-flavored RFTC-style garage-punk. Scream, Dracula, scream!
Apparently the Lazy Local News Human Interest Story Du Jour in recent months has been the local spotlight on emo–how it stands for “emotional,” of course, and how it could be affecting your child! First there was the classic WDAZ-Grand Forks lead story on the dangers of emo, and tonight, viewers of FOX 32 in Chicago got to meet “northwest suburban college students” Addison Park and discuss The Emo Backlash! Click away and witness the glory as local news squares attempt to enhippen their audience with the following gems:
-Emo musicians write and sing about what they feel!
-Blink-182 and Green Day are apparently emo now!
-Apparently an online video shows an “emo” kid being “assaulted” by a classmate! (which, awesome)
-YouTube user TheKingoftheWorld says, “Zomg the birds r dying!”
-Most importantly: Addison Park are horrible.
Don’t be too embarrassed, Chicago–up here in Wisconsin, our local news is maybe even more hysterical, what with all the panic about salvia, the new legal high that your kid could be on RIGHT NOW! “Zomg,” indeed.
(p.s. Yes, i purposely used the photo of Addison Park on a goddamn railroad track because apparently those schmoes have never been to the Rocknrollconfidential Hall of Douchebags. Just because you photoshopped in an oncoming train doesn’t make your cliche’d railroad photo any less lame, you shitwits. And for fuck’s sake–mandals? Mandals?)
(p.p.s. Thanks to my pal Chris in Chicago for warning me that this was gonna be broadcast tonight.)
Let’s talk about 1991. Your humble narrator was beginning his senior year of high school, a little album called Nevermind was about to knock the record biz on its ass, and despite the 80s having officially ended the year before, hair metal still ruled the airwaves and MTV. And presiding over the denim, mullets, AquaNet and rampant vapid groupie metal chick sex i was not having was “the world’s loudest heavy metal magazine:” RIP.
RIP Magazine ruled my high school years and more or less dictated my musical taste until college. Unlike bullshit rags like Circus and Metal Edge, which were essentially teenybopper pinup collections for hesher douchebags who didn’t want to be seen buying Big Bopper for the Debbie Gibson glossies, RIP actually gave a damn about the music it was covering–and more importantly, it only marginally cared if you liked it too. Sure, the covers were full of the bigwigs, like Guns ‘N’ Roses and Aerosmith, but inside the same issue whose cover Axl graced, you could see an interview with Faith No More slagging him off. Basically, RIP was ballsy and didn’t give a fuck–probably because it was owned by Hustler kingpin Larry Flynt. Sort of hard to care about public perception when your parent magazine is dedicated to bringing the golden shower to the mainstream.
Leading this show was RIP Editor-in-Chief Lonn M. Friend, who in 2006 published his autobiography, Life on Planet Rock, which i recently devoured after receiving it as a Christmas present this year from fellow SSC scribe Josh “The Fucking Wizard” D. Read more »
