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CONTENT Shiva Trash • Pandemonium Recorders • Odd Z Man • Beaters • All My Friends Andrew Montoya • A Day in the Life of a Sex Addict • Aldo Bustos
S H I VA ARE HE P L AY Vanessa Rivera
TRASH AR TO :)
It’s 12:30am. Standing under a streetlight behind a bar, the members of Shiva Trash are huddled around my iPhone. They are stumped. What is their favorite color? It’s an unlikely interview question for a band that has spent the past 3 years garnering legitimacy in the San Diego music community, enamoring punks and pseudo hipsters alike to their melodic raucousness. What started out as a pleasure venture with the intent of getting some songs “out of their system,” quickly turned into a proper band formed by vox/guitarist Mark and guitarist Lisa, with the addition of drummer Keaton, and Sal on keys. While it took experimenting with a few different ensembles since their initial formation, members agree that their current combination – Sal being the most recent addition, joining Shiva Trash in late 2012 - is their perfect musical puzzle completed, and it shows. “We get a high out of playing live,” confesses Lisa. “It’s a cathartic experience for us…and we are always conscious of our audience. If we were to come to our own show, would we want to be in the audience?” The answer is a resounding yes. The band has creeped up the headliner ladder, paying their dues as a sought-after opening act to now headlining their own shows at prominent alt-rock venues in San Diego, including Til-Two Club, the Void, the Soda Bar, and one of the band’s hometown favorite,
the Tower Bar. The group also has a west coast tour under their belt (with fellow Cholo Punk sweethearts, Electric Healing Sound) that included stops in Ensenada, Mexico to as far north as Seattle, WA. The band has also earned slots at eclectic music fests Psycho de Mayo and last year’s Tectonic Temple at TeleMagica Galaxia (an event, I concluded, that can basically only be reached by locating it’s longitude and latitude on a GPS system, - “It’s in the desert somewhere, I don’t know” - Sam). But while other bands would sell their souls to attract the growing popularity Shiva Trash is gaining, their souls are exactly what the band is actively trying to protect. “I’m intimidated by the prospect (of “making it big”),” Lisa explains. “That’s the way my mind is: I see all the red flashing lights and how scary it might be to coexist with other people in an environment with all that pressure. You can’t bind yourself to anything. It’s (requires) a lot more influence and reliance on that influence. It’s going to be a lot more difficult to maintain our identity.” Clearly, the band values its freedom. We’re currently on the heels of Shiva Trash’s second record release, Helter Swelter, a compilation of creatively crafted riffs that comes out sounding like jumbled, head banging, danceable, mosh-pitable, fist-pumpable (if you do that sort of thing) magic; a sound that basically caters to anyone with ears. And if described to a deaf person, their sound depicts a welcomed chaos, like breadcrumbs leading from Nirvana-esque 90s grunge to the forest of Shiva Trash’s frenzied lo-fi punk/surf/circus rock. “We don’t want to sound too typical,” Mark says. Go to any Shiva Trash show and this message will resound loud and clear – try about 100 decibels loud and 0% typical. Having recorded their first project – a successful three song 7-inch - in one day last year, the band now boasts of having been able to take their time in the recording studio to cultivate these elements of happy chaos in Helter Swelter. “We have more time, more freedom. It won’t be rushed,” Mark says. With more time on their hands this time around, the band was able to finesse their song-writing process. “Everything starts with the music,” Mark goes on. “It starts out with just riffs and then I present them to Lisa. Lisa edits and tweaks it and then we go through it with the band… to create the skeleton of the song. Everyone has to find their place in the song, because when we play, everyone has to feel in tune with the music. Once we hit the best a song can ever be, everyone in the group is excited to play it, no matter how many times we play it. And that’s what we try to achieve with every song.” This new record will be 100% analogue, recorded on various 4-track and 8-track devices. A daunting feat for a band born about 15 years too late to have enjoyed the original bliss of an 8-track player at its prime. But, “It’s going to sound real, like you’re there,” Mark assures me. “It’s not going to have any ones and zeros. These are true sounds.”
The buzz around this release is growing. The band has already been interviewed by various music blogs and local publications, including the San Diego Reader and City Beat, not to mention the attention they’ll continue receiving in the wake of Cholo Punk’s increasing visibility. But whether or not the band makes it big is not the number one goal. “This is something we’re probably going to do – in some capacity – for the rest of our lives,” Lisa tells me. Mark concurs: “I can imagine myself being 70 and still making shitty music. That’s all.” It becomes clear that this band is made of members who are made of music. It is who they are, an expression of their being, no ruse or gimmick or motive to entertain. The motive, at its core, being pure joy. As of now, try Googling “Shiva Trash San Diego” and you may still get links to the city’s trash and recycling schedule. But their intriguing (and lessening) anonymity is what has attracted audiences to their performances at nearly every club in town. Having PiedPipered a following of faithful show-goers, their success mimics the theme of their recent music video for “Helter Swelter” - which tells the story of a cult leader who slyly seduces unsuspecting gardeners, readers, bikers, and trash-taker outers to join his sect and take part in a kool-aid induced extermination. We are those gardeners. We are the trash-taker outers. We are bikers. You are, at present, a reader, and if this article is in your hands, you have just drunk the kool-aid.
the art box; a 3D canvas. endless possibilities. a four sided surface for the masses. Installation by Zaki “Odd Z Man� Younis
ALL MY FRIENDS WITH FRANK
Frank Mindingal
“All my friends” was pretty chill; everyone was just getting faded and shooting the shit. Seniors and toddlers were laughing while tios and primos were joking around. Streetpunks were spitting things out while hipsters were conspicuously doing drugs in the corner. Basically, we were just kicking it and drinking warm beer. Which was cool ‘cause – unlike most festivals - it made everything feel more like a party than a mall. And even the vendors were pretty cool! Any smart festival-goer knows that, unless you’re bored and want to window shop, it’s usually best to avoid the shitty and over-priced booths. But the portabello tacos from KokoPelli were BOMB! And mezcal was more way more enjoyable than tequila. There was even a Marlboro booth, which I’m sure the smokers were stoked about since there were no mercados nearby. Let’s talk about the venue. Casa de la Cultura Tijuana - was a little too scholarly and condescending to be cool. At times, I even felt like I was at a campus hall watching a Battle of the Bands, and that the security guard would come to tackle me at any moment for drinking on school grounds. But in all fairness, the building was originally a school since the 70’s. It became a part of the Instituto Municipal de Arte y CulturaI (IMAC), a government program that promotes culture and art within the local communities of Mexico. There are multiple locations throughout Mexico associated with IMAC, Casa de la Cultura Tijuana – which opened in 1998 - being one of them. Still, as much as I usually prefer less pretentiousness in a venue, I could not get into it as much as I liked. Perhaps it was the valiant concrete stairs that lead up to these faux-Greco-Roman columns that were surrounding its tall red-bricked building. Actually, I’m most positive it was the stairs. Still, everything was pulled off pretty well. In fact, all of its awkwardness admittedly added to the ambience of the Puerta stage. The huge black stage looked like some alien invader or a street art installation piece confidently putting on a show. However, it was shooting these unnecessarily bright lasers that could illuminate the entire city and had left the audience nearly blind. I had to wear my sunglasses during the dark waves of Dancing Strangers and Tropical Popsicle just to keep myself from having a seizure. It’s funny; the alien stage made Dancing Strangers look pretty bad-ass – like they were some space-invaders - while the lasers brought a certain and a monumental aspect to Tropical Popsicle. A jealous “Luckyyyyyyy!” goes out to all those who got to see La Ra; I heard it was a pretty sick show. Oh, and Beaters! Beaters killed it. The Patio was the punk stage where the hardcore and the streetpunks had a blast. I suspect that this may be the reason why it was deliberately placed in the farthest corner and behind the Porta-Potties. El Teatro was the actual theatre’s stage and was dominated by pop and indie bands spewing tranquilizing bubbles into your ears. The seating was comfortable which can be lethargic when fused with the performances. So yeah, I’d definitely go again. It’s probably the best festival you could to go to, if you wanted to find some of the best independent bands of Mexico. It is held every year and I
think the next one is coming up soon, so keep yourself posted here: https://www.facebook. com/allmyfriendsmf. And for the record, I know a lot of people can be apprehensive about going to Mexico but its pretty safe; there was a ton of Americans and English speakers. But I would recommend going with someone that can speak Spanish; or as I found out, you will be in grave danger! (juust kindakiiiddiiing!)
A short anecdote: Shortly after I crossed, I was directed into a taxi by an aggressive but non-authoritative figure. I attempted to tell the driver where I needed to go: “Me puede conducir a La Casa de Cultura?” As you can see, my Spanish is horrible and that’s not even going into pronunciation. So of course I was taken to the wrong place but luckily found someone at the place that could speak English and who was able to help me. He wrote out what I should say and said, “Just read that- actually, just hand that to the driver.” Of course finding a taxi was even more difficult considering that I was nowhere near the border anymore and didn’t know where I was. I saw a mall close by and thought that I might have luck there, but no. But I did manage to find myself in the middle of the road to flag down a taxi. And that was the dangerous part considering no one gives a fuck about lanes or traffic signals. Then, the taxi driver I was with had a taciturnity that went way behind a language barrier. He practically scowled the whole time and seemed misanthropric. But he was listening to Motown music; and I did see those fingers tappin’ against the steering wheel. Still, he was taking me deep into TJ and nowhere near the usual 6th and Revolution. I was afraid that I would end in a bath tub dismembered. But I wasn’t. That said, I want to reiterate: Going to Mexico is pretty safe.
AN D RE W MONTO Y A PA M D E M O N I U M R E C O R D E R S
Zaki Younis