The Nerve May 2007 Page
The Nerve May 2007 Page
The Nerve May 2007 Page
CONTENTS
Features
Volume 8, Number 5, Issue #71 508 - 825 Granville St., Vancouver, B.C. V6Z 1K9 604.734.1611 www.thenervemagazine.com contact@thenervemagazine.com
11 Dimmu Borgir
The Don (a/k/a Editor-In-Chief and Publisher) Bradley C. Damsgaard editor@thenervemagazine.com
16 Minimalist Jug Band
Wiseguy (a/k/a Music Editor) Adrian “Campus Shooting Spree Jokes” Mack mack@thenervemagazine.com
Shotgun (a/k/a Film Editor) Michael Mann mann@thenervemagazine.com
Are we not men? We are art fags! - Ferdy Belland
21 Cannonball!
The Henchmen (a/k/a Design & Graphics) Kristy Sutor
How to survive an encounter with Sebastian Bach - Carl Spackler
14 Bison PHOTO: MEG BOURNE
Weapons Cleaner (a/k/a Article Editor) Jon Azpiri Surveillance Team (a/k/a Photographers) Dale De Ruiter, Miss Toby Marie, Leigh Righton The Muscle (a/k/a Staff Writers) AD MADGRAS, Cowboy TexAss, Chris Walter, Stephanie Heney, Adam Simpkins, Carl Spackler, David Bertrand, Herman Menervemanana, Ferdy Belland, Dave Von Bentley, Devon Cody, Dale De Ruiter, Johnny Kroll, Andrew Molloy, Cameron Gordon, Brock Thiessen, Filmore Mescalito Holmes, Jenna James, Jenny C, Will Pedley, Christina Paris, Allan MacInnis, Samantha Laserson, Michael Cook Plaster Caster (a/k/a Cover Design) Toby Bannister toby@thenervemagazine.com Fire Insurance (a/k/a Advertising) Brad Damsgaard, Sean Mckay advertise@thenervemagazine.com The Kids (a/k/a The Interns) Claudine Ostashek, Samantha Laserson, Jon Braun
The Nerve is published monthly by The Nerve Magazine Ltd. The opinions expressed by the writers and artists do not necessarily reflect those of The Nerve Magazine’s publisher or its editors. The Nerve does not accept responsibility for content in advertisements. The Nerve reserves the right to refuse any advertisement or submission and accepts no responsibility for unsolicited manuscripts or artwork. Printed in Canada. All content © Copyright The Nerve Magazine 2007. Est. 1999
Tales from Vancouver’s lunatic fringe - Allan MacInnis
19 Mark Mothersbaugh
Launderer (a/k/a Book Editor) Devon Cody cody@thenervemagazine.com
Out-of-town Connections (a/k/a Distro & Street Team) Toronto: Rosina Tassone, Kerry Goulding Montreal: Douglas Ko Calgary: Mike Taylor Edmonton: Freecloud Records, Bob Prodor Winnipeg: Margo Voncook Regina: Shane Grass Whitehorse: Jordi and Jeremy Jones Victoria/Whistler: Jono Jak, Lindsay
We examine Norway’s most important export since Henrik Ibsen - David Von Bentley
Sections 06 24 29 22 32 33 33 35 34
Cheap Shotz Live Reviews Album Reviews Film DVD Books Video Games Crossword Comics
Dave Bertrand likes it huge, heavy, and covered in hair - Dave Bertrand
7 Dinosaur Jr.
Next month, we talk to Folk Implosion’s Lou Barlow - Cameron Gordon
9 12 12 12 13 13 14 14 15 15 7
RADICAL NEWS Daggermouth Fe Fi Fo Fums Set Your Goals Explosions in the Sky LCD Soundsystem VietNam Black Rebel Motorcycle Club Blonde Redhead The Sea and Cake Skate 4 Cancer
The Nerve April 2007 Page
Letters = cheapshotz@thenervemagazine.com
Letter of the Month! Chris Walter Sucks! Well… someone hates me… boo hoo. This is a reply to the dude who in February wrote in to the Nerve and “can’t for the life” of him remember my name nor details of the past correctly. First off, Chris Walter’s November article is about Greg’s awesome new band Alternate Action, not an “accurate” depiction of the Glory Stomper/KFC riot night in Canada… that took place in Edmonton, not Calgary, by the way. I’m glad that this guy is so proud of himself for buying his friend Jay “the punk rock icon” drinks for beating up a 16 year old girl… because that’s how old I would have been, and incidentally couldn’t have even gotten into the show. I’m pretty confident that I didn’t get the band beat up repeatedly across Canada and the U.S.. Sure we stepped on the odd toe here and there, but kiddies, it’s punk rock, no? It is no doubt that I was an asshole back in the day, I’ll admit that, but weren’t we all? I must have missed the how to play nice with others chapter in my punk rock manual. I remember being a fucked up, angry little kid, but I got over it, this dude obviously did not. Finally, I must point out he was at least drinking age in 1992… so still holding onto hating me = pathetic. - Lorna (ex-the Glory Stompers)
Nerve Staff are Talented and Amazing! Toby Marie Bannister art opening! What are you doing May 18th, pussies? Why not go check out the lovely and talented Miss Toby Marie Bannister’s art show which opens at 8pm at Midtown Gallery (438 Pender Street). There’ll be beers. Get drunk and marvel at her beautiful photos from her trip to Japan. There might even be a slide show. Be sure to get there early because as soon as we get drunk, we’re buying every single piece.
The Only Strikes Back! We’re no strangers to hatemail around here. Ironically though, the majority of it comes from our own contributors. Hate text messages are a new one for us though. It seems not everyone thought our cute little obituary for The Only Magazine was funny. The following is a text message exchange that took place between former Nerve columnist Jason Ainsworth and Nerve editor Brad Damsgaard. Ainsworth: I quit. Damsgaard: Quit what? Ainsworth: My column, I quit. What you guys said about Only. That was unfair and mean going after them like that. They weren’t your competition. I quit. Ainsworth hasn’t been seen since and is presumed drunk and disorderly. Theories have been circulating around the office that Ainsworth’s irrational reaction to this harmless joke is part of a sinister plot by The Only to turn our star writer on us. Well played The Only. Well played.
We received this e-mail from Michael Berryman, star of Wes Craven’s The Hills Have Eyes, or possibly somebody who looks like him but with way more tattoos on his head. We feel we should share it with our loyal readers: “Chris Walter, local literary wannabe, will launch his 136th book, Shouts From the Gutter, on May 4 at the Royal Albert in Winnipeg, and on May 11 at the Cobalt in Vancouver. The first 30 people will get a free copy of the new book. No, not really.”
T
The Nerve May 2007 Page
Fuck
New Magazine Does Article on David Bertrand! Nerve Proclaims New Magazine the Most Important Free East Van Weekly of our Generation!
Shameless Plug of the Month! Chris Walter is Awesome and has an Amazing New Novel!
he Vancouver based label Duck Duck Goose Records is run by Adam Nation, who also happens to be the man behind the band the Great Outdoors, who’s Food, Booze, and Entertainment is DDG’s latest release. The label is about as small as indie labels come, but according to Nation it wasn’t planned to be that way. Nation has been involved with every band on DDG’s roster - which is made up by Counterrevolutionaries and Kingsway - but asked about putting out records by bands that he isn’t a member of, Nation responds, “I would love to put out other people’s records and I thought I might be able to by now. It’s only finances that stop me from doing that… to pay for all the releases, I work as a carpenter 60 hours a week. I can’t really work anymore to help someone put out their record, but I’d love too. Ideally, that is what I’m working
Who Gives a
towards” When asked who he’d like to work with, an enthusiastic Nation replies, “Roger Dean Young, he’s a local guy, fairly folky… Kent McAllister, he’s kind of country, we’ve toured together and he’s working on a record right now, I’d love to put that out for Kent.” Recording all of his music in his Fraser St. studio on half-inch tape, or in his living room, Nation is able to keep recording costs pretty much down to sheer time. “I laugh sometimes when I hear stories of people recording a record for 800 or a thousand dollars,” says Nation. “I could record five records for a thousand dollars because I have all the gear already. The GP9, the new tapes they’re making now, you can re-record over and over on them, they never really disintegrate.” With his current setup, recording material to
Last month we told you about the demise of The Only Magazine. Faster than you can say “Art School Cocksuckers”, a new magazine made by former The Terminal City and The Discorder staff for East Vancouver bohemians was on the street. Great. Surely it’ll just be more articles on poor people who have beards and debatable artistic talent. For fuck’s sake losers, give it up, this same magazine has failed about a dozen times in the last five years. So the moment we heard about The Tooth and Dagger we busted out the baseball bats, again, and started taking practice swings. We even came up with a great nickname for them, The Main Street Fluffer. Unfortunately, before we were able to print anything nasty, The Tooth and Dagger, calculating bastards that they are, got the jump on us by doing a flattering article on Nerve goldenboy, David Bertrand. Surely they knew we’d never make fun of them if they wrote about how great Bertrand is. Genius. These fuckers just might stand a chance. The article that appeared in The Tooth and Dagger is about The Bizzaro Film-O-Rama, which is hosted by Bertrand every Sunday evening at the Gaff Gallery on East Hastings. It’s Vancouver’s premier night for screenings of cult films. In the article, Bertrand is described as “neighbourly”, “enthusiastic” and a straight shooter. We couldn’t agree more, but feel the writer held back a little and omitted the following key details. Bertrand has been dubbed “Hollywood” by Adrian Mack, “The Franchise” by Michael Mann and “The Answer” by Devon Cody. A talented writer known for his milliondollar smile and his ability to make your day just by thinking about you, Bertrand oozes talent and charisma from every perfect pore on his face. Sadly, no one from The Tooth and Dagger could be reached to comment on how much their encounter with Bertrand changed their lives for the better. But best of luck to you The Tooth and Dagger, you’re The Nerve’s new favourite magazine. The Tooth and Dagger can be found in East Vancouver at places where people you hate congregate.You can read the big interview with Bertrand and some other hag who we don’t care about at www.toothanddagger.com/story/read/5
release on DDG isn’t where the costs lie. Nation mentions that through the help of friends like Ken Beattie at Killbeat Music, he can get his music out to the right places and, more importantly, have it followed up on. He is, however, developing a reputation for producing some great packaging for DDG’s releases. While he knows these packaging choices cost a lot, he’d rather treat his releases as art rather than ‘units’. “We’re aware you’ve got to do something to stand out,” says Nation. “We used to make hand painted envelopes and mail them out. You know, if the envelope looked good, maybe it would get opened quicker than a manila envelope. It’s only from lack of time that we don’t do that anymore.” When asked about the current nature of the music business and the idea that to sell records, people need to include more in the package, Nation adds, “ I think it’s the way it’s going to go. With everything being downloadable, there’s not a lot of point in buying CDs sometimes. We’ve all got a bunch of jewel cases with cracked covers sitting around, and they aren’t really good for much, you know, unless you still like to do lines.” - Brad Damsgaard
This month, Lucas Silveira from the Cliks What album is currently in your stereo? Les Matins de Grands Soirs, by Les Breastfeeders. They’re a great band from Montreal that we played with at SXSW in Austin. I saw them live and was blown away. What book are you currently reading or have most recently read? Umm... Killing For Company. It’s about a serial killer from the UK named Dennis Nielsen. What was the last movie you watched? Goodfellas. Caught it two nights ago in a Calgary hotel after our show. Name one album, book, or movie that you consistently recommend to a friend. Album - Grace by Jeff Buckley. Book Coldheart Canyon by Clive Barker. Movie - Edward Scissorhands Name one album, book, or movie that you would recommend to an enemy. Album - Anything by Sugar Ray. Book - I don’t read bad books. Movie - Remake of The Dukes of Hazzard. What is a recent guilty pleasure? Listening to Wham! Make It Big album. What is your biggest pet peeve? Tardiness and inconsiderate people Name one bad habit you’re extremely proud of. I’m compulsively clean If you could hang out with any one person throughout history, who would it be? Buddha What is the one thing you want to get done before you die? Have an animal rescue farm where I keep all the animals I rescue.
The New DDG Release: Nicer than everything you own
Dinosaur Jr at
A Rare Ch
PH OTO: BR AN
EZ TL EY GU TIE RR
With Lou Barlow
By Cameron Gordon
F
rom out of the tar pits and back into your lives, Dinosaur Jr reemerged in 2005 to the shock and awe of many. Once thought to be mortal enemies, band founders J Mascis and Lou Barlow managed to slough off some long standing beefs and the band has been shredding eardrums and booting booty ever since. The classic line-up of Dinosaur Jr (mono-syllabic drummer Murph rounds out the trio) has just released Beyond, the first new album in well over 15 years, and the disc is a surprisingly vital return to form. Beyond is earmarked by louder-than-loud dynamics and the inspired guitar histrionics of Mascis. In other words, this is an old school Dinosaur for a new school world and a sleeper candidate for album of the year. The Nerve recently spoke to Barlow from his Los Angeles HQ and he confirms that his reconciliation with Mascis came literally out of leftfield. “A mutual friend of ours was doing sound for a show that J was playing in London with Mike Watt and the Ashton brothers - this was in the midst of the tour where those guys were playing old Stooges covers and inviting members of the audience up on stage to sing. I checked out the gig and afterwards, talked to J backstage. I apologized for some stuff I had done many, many years ago when I was basically flying off the handle a bit. It was pretty uncomfortable but he was cool about it and we talked for a bit. Then I started talking with his wife, who was the most wonderful, friendly person you could ever hope to meet. She just filled me in a bit of where J was with his music. Those were the seeds of goodwill right there and things basically evolved from there.” The reunion started on-stage at first, as the band tore through North America and the European festival circuit in the summer of 2005. The band had definitely aged but the dynamics that fuelled such classic albums as You’re Living All Over Me and Bug hadn’t eroded over time.
Little by little, there was talk of some new material rising to the surface and by the time 2006 hit, the rumours were confirmed by all involved and a release date for Beyond was eventually set. The full-length was recorded at Mascis’ Bisquiteen Studio in Amherst, Massachusetts. Fittingly, it was this tiny college town that birthed Dinosaur Jr in the mid-1980s and the fingerprints of disaffected, white teenage boredom still infuse this record through and through. The licks are sharper and the production more pristine but the disc is still dripping with the molten sonic sludge that won Dinosaur so many fans first time around. It’s amazing that such a coherent effort could emerge from the seeds of utter nothingness but the album only goes to show the resolve and chemistry that Mascis, Barlow and Murphy enjoyed first time around. Barlow admits that nobody was thinking of new material when the band first got back and early on, it was a total day-by-day proposition as the band hammered its way through old favorites and resisted the urge to unearth old grievances (and kick each others asses in the process). “A new album was probably even more unlikely than the reunion tour,” confirms Barlow with a sense of surprise still very evident in his words. “The first set of reunion dates went really well and in order to keep the momentum going, I guess a new album of material was the logical next step. None of us wanted to keep flogging that part of the back catalogue for too much longer and even still, touring those songs for as long as we did became old pretty fast. Personally, I was really surprised that J would even be willing to try it so when we started discussing the idea, I figured why not go for it and see what happens.” For a band at its level, Dinosaur Jr managed to stretch their shtick far and wide, and multiple tours took them to all corners of the globe several times over. Japan, Australia, Mexico… the Dinosaur caravan has hit a ton of nations worldwide and the band’s music has traveled amazingly far, considering it was largely a cult band at home for the bulk of its career. Barlow admits with a chuckle that France was always a dead zone but otherwise, Dinosaur Jr managed to strike a chord with listeners across the planet. “There’s a real consistency to Dinosaur’s sound that is recognizable anyway, in every language. It’s not like we’re massive anywhere but at least with the type of music we make, there is an
audience for it. Even when we started, there was a pretty developed network of indie labels and a community that got our music out there. It was small but it worked.” The band will always be identified with the burgeoning Boston scene of the late 1980s but make no mistake, geography was pretty much the only thing that Dinosaur Jr shared with any of their civic colleagues. While the Lemonheads were busy diddling the Blake Babies and the Pixies were getting frisky with Throwing Muses, Dinosaur Jr searched a bit further afield for its friends and more often than not, came up empty in its quest. They admired the noxious approach favoured by such testy outfits as Pussy Galore and Killdozer yet they also enjoyed the classical gas employed by Black Sabbath, Blue Oyster Cult and other peddlers of the uncool (at least by indie standards). Dinosaur Jr was always portrayed as the black sheep of the American indie scene and though the band gigged early with such outfits as Sonic Youth, Redd Kross and the Lunachicks, Barlow says very few bands of that era shared Jr’s twin loves of punks and classic rock. “There weren’t a lot of bands that were on the same wavelength as Dinosaur Jr early on. The Flaming Lips and the Screaming Trees are a couple that come to mind but there wasn’t really any middle ground between the screamy hardcore punk stuff and then the more melodic pop music. Especially with the Lips, at their core was a real love of classic rock and in that way, they were a band that we identified with on a certain level.” Perhaps they should have hit the north at the on-set but for whatever reason, Canadian tour dates were always few and far between for Dinosaur Jr. Even once Barlow left the fold in 1989 and then Murph followed suit in 1993, the moniker played very few Canadian dates outside of traditional strongholds such as Toronto and Montreal. That will soon change as the band preps its first ever cross-Canada tour. The trek starts May 22 in Victoria and will hit eight cities nation-wide. This will be Barlow’s maiden voyage to the Prairie Provinces and he says a full scale Dinosaur tour of the nation is long overdue. “I always thought that Canada got the shaft in terms of live gigs. To me anyway, an average show in Canada seemed like the best American show for some reason. The audiences were great, the smaller towns were really cool and overall, I just always digged that Canadian vibe. Whatever that is.” n
There weren’t a lot of bands that were on the same wavelength as Dinosaur Jr early on
Dinosaur Jr will be at the Showbox in Seattle, May 18, Sugar Nightclub in Victoria, May 22, the Commodore in Vancouver, May 23, the MacEwan Ballroom in Calgary. May 25, the Starlite Room in Saskatoon, May 27, the Garrick Centre in Winnipeg, May 28, and the Phoenix Concert Theatre in Toronto, June 8.
Skate-4-Cancer
Rob Dyer Sends Us His Leg
Nerve: Hi, Rob! What’s your age and hometown? Rob Dyer: 2 Twenty-three years old, from Newmarket, Ontario. Goofy or regular? Goofy. What’s your setup? Girl deck with Independent Trucks and Pig wheels. When I do long skates, I put on big Sector 9 wheels and keep the same deck and truck setup. You founded Skate4Cancer to skate across North America for cancer awareness. Why? The idea of Skate4Cancer was a result of my mum and a few others I’ve lost to cancer. It was my way to deal with the hurt, and turn it into something good. Why’d you choose skating to carry your message? I just love to skate, so it came to me. I’m lucky to do something I love, and fight something I feel so much for. Before Skate4Cancer, what kind of skater were you? I was never a great skater, it was just something I
loved to do. I’d say street. In 2004, Skateforcancer traveled 8000km from LA to Newmarket. Ever consider pulling the plug? We had a lot of hard times on that skate: cops, my foot, and losing the bus. People with cancer can’t just give up and go home. We’re in this fight with them, and won’t go away without a cure. Together we fight, together we’ll cure. After that trip, were you elated or relieved? I had so much time to think about what we’re doing and why we’re here. When I got home, I knew this was something I was going to do ‘til we have a cure. Who do you skate with? This skate I think my dear friend Matt will be skating with me. You’re also doing Australia this year? Yes, we’ve been working on an Australia skate for about a year now. It looks like we’re going to do this skate in December ‘07. It’s great to see Skate4Cancer going to a new part of the world! Skate4Cancer has branched into music as well. Tell us about that! Music has a way to talk to people like no other
tool. We try to use music to bring people together to fight cancer. Since January we’ve made all our music events about “The Cure is Knowledge”. Free events. We feel your involvement is far more valuable than any amount of money we could raise. Any notable events this summer? Yes, this summer is full of Skate4Cancer fun! We’re going to be on Warped Tour, skate cross Canada, and “The Cure is Knowledge” music tour. Ten free shows all around Canada! Is one of your legs way burlier than the other? Hahaha. After the skate in ‘04, they were pretty big, but it’s been a few years. Maybe after this summer I’ll send you a photo of it! n The Skate4Cancer “The Cure is Knowledge” tour begins May 23 at the Salt Lounge in London, Ontario, and winds up at the Sweatshop Skate Park in Vancouver on June 9. The tour features Mugshot, Shad, Casey Baker (from Sleeper Set Sail) and Matthew Johnston. Check myspace.com/robdyer for details on all points in between, including Winnipeg, Regina, Saskatoon, Calgary, Edmonton, Lethbridge, Kelowna, and Whistler
PHOTO: JESS BAUMUNG
By Derek DeLand
Rob, it’s TWO in the pink, one in the ... The Nerve May 2007 Page
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DEEP POLITICS AND RADICAL NEWS
TV News is Strictly for Idiots
By Michael Cook
D
o you lie awake at night wondering who fathered Anna Nicole Smith’s baby? Or whether she boned the Immigration Minister of Bermuda in order to obtain her residency permit? Or whether her family did the right thing by burying her body wherever the hell they buried it? If you’re like me, you don’t give a fuck about any of these things. And more than that, you can’t believe that anyone is even slightly interested. Worst of all, you’re flabbergasted that the audience for coverage of Anna Nicole Smith is so comprehensive, that it warranted round-the-clock commentary from every major television news network. I happen to know that Prince Frederic Von Anhalt, ninth husband of Zsa Zsa Gabor, was the third man to lay claim to Smith’s daughter. And Bill O’Reilly called the Prince a “fraud”. Now he’s suing O’Reilly
and FOX News for $10 million. I don’t even have TV, and yet I know this horrible fact. This kind of insidious nonsense makes my skin crawl. Recently I walked into an Autoplan to pay off several tickets I’ve recently acquired because I’m retarded and I crash cars. When I walked in with my stack of tickets, the lady looked at me like I was a scoundrel. On the radio, two or three people were discussing the legal implications of burying Smith’s body in Bermuda. I had to go home and grab another piece of ID or my Visa or something, and when I returned – half an hour later – the same section of the same conversation was being repeated on the same radio station. This lady at the Autoplan had the luxury of listening to the radio while she worked, and instead of music, she chose to hear the same inanity over and over and over. To my mind, listening repeatedly to a half-hour conversation about the disposal of Anna Nicole Smith’s remains is a crime far greater than driving without due care or being drunk in public. That lady at the Autoplan is in no position to judge anyone, least of all me. But what about when something happens that actually matters? The massacre at Virginia Tech is obviously a huge and important news story. As of this writing, it’s still fresh in everyone’s minds, and new information continues to emerge. But newscasters are already starting to argue about whether they’re covering the story in an ethical way. What does Bill O’Reilly think? What does Rosie think? What does Rosie think of what Bill O’Reilly thinks? And etceteras. I might be wrong, but I think the trend of the news covering the news might have started with the OJ Simpson trial. I remember seeing, during that trial, roundtable discussions about whether or not there was too much coverage of the trial itself, and
whether that coverage was pandering. So where do you stand on what the networks should do? Should NBC be showing the video of Cho Seung-Hui’s ranting? Does it depend on their motives? These questions apply more generally to the growing irrelevance of TV news. I think the audience is the problem. If we switched to online news, it wouldn’t matter what NBC does, which, in any case, is motivated by its bottom line. That will always be the deciding factor in what they do or do not air. That’s fine for them. But we don’t have to help. If we got our news online, we could decide for ourselves whether or not we need to see Cho’s video, or footage of Nick Berg being decapitated, or pictures of dead American soldiers. Then we could go to one of several dozen sites that offers any of those things for download right now. I can’t fault TV for giving people what they want. If
you want to spend two thirds of your time watching idiots argue about bullshit, and the other third having disembodied voices tell you to buy things, fine. You’re allowed to be stupid, and corporations are allowed to pander to you. But if you’re reading this, I bet you don’t want that. Still, most of you won’t cancel your cable because you think you really need to see the next episode of The Office (which will be available for download without commercials the very next day), or the hockey game (which is showing at the bar down the street), or The National (which is far less informative than BBC online). But if you had the balls to cancel your cable for just one month, you would get so accustomed to the absence of channel surfing, endless commercials, and irritating filler, that you would never want to veg out in front of that goddamned tube again. n
The Nerve May 2007 Page
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We’re About the Music, Not the Cannibalism By David Von Bentley
B
ack in the early ‘90s, a bunch of tianity. All I get back is a flat, “We hate all skinny, pale, twisted geeks held Norreligions.” way and Finland in the grip of terror. The inspiration for all this comes, as These dudes were national socialist, antiShagrath puts it, from, “different moods I Judeo Christians who had a big axe to grind have in life. I don’t take inspiration from with mainstream religious culture. What any of my favourite bands because I want united these creepy basement dwellers was to sound different. I don’t copy them, and I a genre of music – black metal - that had think we do a pretty good job of that since been around since the early ‘80s, but really we really don’t sound like anyone else out was shaped during this savage and brutal there. So many people just go out wanting second wave. Bands like Mayhem, Gorto imitate their favourite bands. We play goroth, Burzum, Immortal, and Emperor what we feel, so it’s our own, and differmight have smuggled classical, atmospheric ent.” So who are these bands that didn’t inelements into the music, but they also spire Dimmu? (And please don’t say KISS) ushered in the violence still associated with “KISS,” Shagrath replies, “WASP, Twisted the genre today. Sister, Judas Priest, bands that had a strong But it’s 2007 and something amazing image. I was never much into bands like is about to happen in Norway. No, it isn’t Iron Maiden and DIO. I was more into the finally getting electricity or the motorized visual aspects. But later it became more carriage, but a black metal band is poised about harder sounding bands like Venom, to debut at #1 for the first time ever in the Bathory, and Celtic Frost, which are bands nation’s history. Dimmu Borgir’s newest I still listen to today.” effort of symphonic black metal mastery, Significantly, Shagrath doesn’t really In Sorte Diaboli, is flying off the shelves of enjoy the current black metal. “I listen to record stores all across the country. To more rock’n’roll music than metal,” he put this in a North American perspective, confesses. “Like Turbonegro and Gluecifer. imagine your parents obliviously settling in But I also like what I’ve been into for many for a future season of Dancing with the Stars years. Bands like Darkthrone and all that featuring Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, OJ old-school black metal stuff. I don’t pay Simpson, and Alec Baldwin. attention to many new bands.” In fact, This is an event of such monumentally Shagrath moonlights as the guitarist in a weird proportions that even Shagrath, straight-ahead hard rock project called the chubby-legged lead vocalist of Dimmu Chrome Division. “We did one album and Borgir is surprised. “I actually didn’t know we have eight new songs written,” he says. that,” he says, calling the Nerve on an evil “Hopefully we can have it out next year. cell-phone of screaming death as the band’s I’d love to tour for it but Dimmu is my Dimmu Borgir is sponsored by Epiphone, Yamaha, Zildjian, Snapple, and the Bedazzler chariot of necromancy (tour bus) rolls main priority, and we are really booked up across the eastern seaboard on a blanket of the whole year.” cleansing fire, or possibly an interstate highWhat I gather from talking with my music, and that’s what I was focused on. And they some time to really get into it again.” way. “It’s something very positive for us, of course,” new best friend Shagrath (who is named after an became very supportive after they saw this, actually.” Now the boys are back in business with their he continues in a tone far too reasonable for me Orc demon from the Lord of the Rings trilogy, if And now, he adds, “They are happy about what I do, eighth studio effort, an anti-Christian themed conto fully trust, “but our music is very extreme, so I you’re wondering) is that he actually seems like a and are proud I am so successful at it.” cept album that Shagrath describes thusly, “The story don’t really get it. It’s become much more acceptable nice guy. Not pretentious or bitter like one might Dimmu Borgir’s commercial growth isn’t confined centres around a fictional character who enters the among people.” think. And certainly not a two-legged manifestation to cold, damp, and depressing northern European priesthood to find God, but within a few weeks he Remember, it wasn’t all that long ago that of Godless chaos on earth. If you’re Christian, then countries, either. With bursts of heavy stateside goes through a revelation. This revelation spiritually Norway’s black metal plague saw the country rocked the two of you might have a problem, but who’s a touring over the years, the band has become arguturns him into an entity that is the anti-Christ, so by a series of unthinkably grotesque and irrational Christian these days anyways, for Christ sake? ably the biggest of its kind. But touring is a drag, to speak. The lyrics are written like journals about crimes. It was the monstrous suppuration into the If you’re an inveterate black metal fan, not that no matter who you are, and especially for Dimmu personal struggles and victories, ultimately leading terrified mainstream of a sub-culture so irredeemthere’s any other kind, then you should probBorgir’s lead singer. “Our biggest fanbase is still in to the rejection of the concept of God. At the end ably sick that a national emergency ensued. This shit ably thank Dimmu Borgir for its impact on the Europe, but in North America, it’s a fast growing he becomes one with Lucifer the angel that was cast just wasn’t supposed to happen in a civilized nation. genre. Even if you don’t like the music, or you’re market for us,” he says. “I out of heaven.” The current The tales are legendary, and are still passed down bummed because the band has “sold out”, by virtue usually don’t like touring, industry buzz is that In Sorte like some grossly, satanically inverted folk-history of the fact that it actually, you know, “sold” some though. I’m the kind of Diablo is currently being in the genre’s image and music today. Dozens of records (which would seem to be the point of the person that likes to create, adapted into a film, and the historically significant churches were burned to the exercise… “The people who say that don’t know and be in the studio. For names Mandy Moore and ground, some bands took to literally killing each what they’re talking about,” Shagrath growls.) Due me, touring is okay the first Shia LaBeouf have been other and, of course, cannibalism was rumoured to to that success, Dimmu Borgir has made it easier to few weeks, but it’s a shabby tossed around. Fingers have ensued when Mayhem vocalist Dead was found access other black metal evangelists, right at your way of living. Too crowded, crossed, people! by his bandmate Euronymous with a big, self-inflicted local record store – all those bands that Shagrath too many people, you’re Why the hate-on for the hole in his head. recognizes as pallid followers, but who keep the stuck in a tour bus, you Judeo-Christian faith, anyDimmu Borgir actually formed at the tale end of metal black nonetheless. The press has subsequently walk around in your dirty way? “We hate all kinds of these activities in 1993. Says Shagrath, “We never conferred some credibility on the genre, while clothes for days on end.” Jereligion,” Shagrath answers, a took part in the criminal aspects within black metal. record companies can smell enough heathen moolah sus. Have you seen Dimmu little predictably. “(But) being It garnered a lot of attention, it was there, it was to support more and more cartoon blasphemers. Borgir’s clothes? Shagrath anti-Christian is what we are something different (but) now the music is more For every record sold, the memory of a regretlets out a small sigh. “I have kind of about. This all goes accessible, really.” Still, the shadow of black metal’s tably racist and criminal past is pushed back a little to do it because it’s an important part of what we back to the medieval times, basically.” hell-on-earth past looms large – how couldn’t it? further, and the focus sharpens on the one thing that are doing,” he says, before revealing that the first Okay, I’m strapping myself in. - making the success of In Sorte Diaboli in its home really counts. “We care about the music,” Shagrath couple of performances on this jaunt were marred “A lot of significant changes happened to the country that much more remarkable. states, thereby saving me the trouble. n by “bad monitors,” which quite possibly sets a new benefit of the race of man,” he asserts. What does Shagrath was just a teenager when he started watermark for the mundanity of evil. “We actually he mean by that? From Shagrath’s studded codpiece giving Satan a boner with his musical stylings.You decided to take some time off after Ozzfest 2004,” comes the reply, “I don’t want to answer that.” can imagine what his family thought of this. “They Dimmu Borgir plays at the Burton Cummings Theatre Shagrath continues. “Some of us became parents, Sitting here, confused, I have to ask: does Shagrath weren’t too happy with it at the beginning,” he in Winnipeg, May 5, the MacEwan Hall Ballroom in we have been working on side projects, and actually believe in God? He simply says, “No.” And then he recalls, with admirable understatement. “With all Calgary, May 7, the Events Centre in Edmonton, May re-recorded our second album. That being said we laughs a bit. I ask if Dimmu Borgir will ever write a the rumors going on, and the news reports on black 8, the Fenix in Seattle, May 10, and the Commodore in haven’t done so many live shows lately. This is the song that goes after the Muslim faith with the same metal. But then they saw I was serious with the Vancouver, May 11 first tour we’ve done in three years, and it takes ferocity the band habitually directs towards Chris-
My parents are happy about what I do, and proud I am so successful at it.
The Nerve May 2007 Page 11
Daggermouth
By Samantha Laserson
“
We’re still small fishes, you know,” Daggermouth guitarist Kenny Lush humbly remarks. Small fishes or not, the Vancouver pop punk five-piece has already had quite a ride (or is it swim?). Discussing the band’s first album Stallone, over coffees on Commercial Drive, Kenny explains, “(It) originally came out from this label in Seattle. The guy basically just ripped us off, screwed over his roommates, ended up having to flee town, and we haven’t talked to him since.” And then there’s their recent dispute with Nickelback’s record label, which was fuelled by
Chad Kroeger’s DUI charge. Basically, Daggermouth decided to message the sub-simian jock-rockers via MySpace, saying, “Drunk driving is not cool... fuck that loser Chad Kroeger...YAH!! PAPERBACK NOVEL,” followed by some blocking, and unblocking, some serious burns thrown down about each other’s bands, a Daggermouth post about it all, and then some prospective lawsuits. Kenny doesn’t wanna talk about it since some boozy, drunk-driving mothers are insulated by a lot of money, and the rest of us aren’t. Daggermouth started its career with absolutely
no musical agenda in mind. “Originally we thought this was going to be a joke, and we just wanted to start a pop-punk band,” Kenny admits. In spite of those initial intentions, the band proved relentless in its persistence, focusing its musical dream and finally winning a deal with Smallman Records. A new album, Turf Wars, was released April 3rd. As the mastermind behind that dream, guitarist Stuart McKillop brings a unique mélange of sonic influences to Daggermouth’s material. But since McKillop isn’t here with us today, Kenny is happy to dish about whatever it is that fires up the little freak. “Stu is, like, bi-polar,” he begins. “On our last tour he was all, ‘Man, when I get home I can see myself becoming like, a rap guy, just really making beats and stuff,’ and now he’s all, ‘Man, I could just really see myself starting a country band,’ so there’s always something changing in his head.” Nonetheless, Turf Wars - lasting a mere, but agonizing 22 minutes - is predominantly “a little faster and more into the melodic-hardcore vein,” as Kenny puts it. Influenced by bands like Hot Water Music and Moneen, Daggermouth has found its musical direction, while the band itself has toughened up. As Kenny notes, Turf Wars sounds “more focused because we’ve kind of been playing for a while and figured out what we want to do.” Of course, touring tends to put a band in the groove it’s meant to inhabit. Hardships will force bonds that are both personal and musical, and it’s significant that Kenny claims “we’re always the odd
A Legacy of Not Sucking
band out for some reason,” and implies feeling some hardcore inadequacy playing alongside firebrands like Final Fight and Death Wish. Furthermore, with the growing divergence of stylistic approaches within the pop-punk genre, it becomes increasingly vital for Daggermouth - or any of its contemporaries - to stay centred. “I just hate when people compare us with other bands,” Kenny confesses, noting that Daggermouth was being associated with current touring partners Set Your Goals before anybody had ever heard a single lick of their music. “I’m not claiming that what we do is original by any stretch,” Kenny pleads. “[But] don’t compare us to a band that we didn’t even know...” And so it goes for most new bands. Daggermouth will continue to battle marginalization like any vital young outfit in an environment as caustic and challenging as underground music, with all of its attendant turf wars. Fortunately, as Kenny explains, the larger objective is basic and very sensible. “We’re all growing up,” he concludes. “We’re all a little older. I Just want people to have fun, and not think we suck.” Amen to that. n Daggermouth will be playing at the Reverb in Toronto on May 6, the Collective Cabaret in Winnipeg on May 9, the Basement in Saskatoon on May 10, the Avenue Skatepark in Edmonton on May 11, the Underground in Calgary on May 12, and the Ukranian Hall in Vancouver on June 1.
Truly, Madly, Mutiny!
“
There’s a lesson to be learned, pay attention!” Jordan Brown shouts during “This Song Is Definitely NOT About a Girl”, the catchiest track on SYG’s first full-length album. Released last July, Mutiny! proves not all sweater-wearing punks are singing about lost love while indulging themselves in melodramatic displays of emotion. Indeed, Brown feels that the Bay area needs a dose of positive punk vibes these days, after a decade of emo. “We really want to be more one on one with our crowd,” says Brown, 23, one of the San Fran sextet’s two lead vocalists. “We were like, ‘Dude, let’s start this band, let’s have fun with it, let’s get out of California and play some shows.’” From there, Brown says SYG has hit a strong wave of optimistic support. But he doesn’t want to overplay their sound. “I would never want to run ourselves into the ground. If we’re not feeling it in a year, we could very well stop or it could go on for five or 10 more years.” Brown is speaking to The Nerve from somewhere near Albany, NY, as SYG and two other bands lend their support to political punkers Anti-Flag, on its current tour. “It’s sort of like a new world,” Brown says, of the bigger stages he and his band mates are
now playing, like the Fillmore in San Francisco and the House of Blues in Cleveland. “We get to really focus on our set, and our show, and performing well as a band.” “[Anti-Flag], Alexisonfire and Big D and the Kids Table have all been really supportive,” Brown continues, but he’s especially pleased with the goodwill coming from the audiences, considering the concoction of genres represented by the four bands. “The fans have received us really well,” he says. Before the bright lights and thousand seat auditoriums, SYG was more used to community centres. Now there’s footage of the band on Youtube - which will eventually end up in SYG’s upcoming DVD - showing a teenage mosh pit that turns into a riot of windmill kicks, solo boxing, and dog piling on top of Brown and co-singer Matt Wilson. “We really had no idea that it was going to take off the way it did,” Brown states. “We have such an aggressive energy about our band. It’s just about coming to a show and forgetting about everything else… And these kids do.” History buffs will, of course, recognize Set Your Goals as a reference to CIV’s 1995 debut of the same name (and Brown also name checks CIV’s
PHOTO: JOHN CAMPBELL
By Jon Braun
Tragically, Jordan Brown was killed INSTANTLY by the finger of death precursor Gorilla Biscuits), although, even though he insists that “we take our influences from all kinds of different punk bands,” it was only a matter of time before Alternative Press consigned SYG to the emo ghetto, comparing the band to “New Found Glory but after eight cans of Red Bull.” True, but NFG is annoying, and SYG isn’t (as much). And if you’re still
intent on calling SYG emo, maybe we can settle on… posi-emo. n Set Your Goals is set to zoom across Canada headlining small venues this month before hitting more Canadian cities during July on the Vans Warped Tour.
Fe Fi Fo Fums Electrofizion and Moronity!
By Jenny C
all the same just because they’re so much fun, much like the Fe Fi Fo Fums, the west Seattle trash punks set to play Pat’s Pub in Vancouver, Saturday May 12th. Any band with the motto “If Johnny [bassist] played it that way, that’s the way its suppose to be,” is obviously A) totally rad and, B) more interested in throwing shit around and having a frantic good time than debating what musical genre their obnoxious sound This effect was achieved with vintage ‘60s Photoshop falls into. If you like rock’n’roll that’s easy; something so damn here’s something to be said for made-up good it does all the work for words.You know, words like “Electrofize.” you - grabbing hold, shaking you around, making you Granted, most of the time the results are a part of the fiasco, hell, it’ll even drive your drunk llittle retarded and kinda sloppy, but they’re loveable ass home at the end of the night - then the Fe Fi Fo
T
The Nerve May 2007 Page 12
Fums are it! And sure, if you wanted to talk about musical inspiration you could bring up the Mummies or any other bands from the budget rock scene of the early ‘90s, but the moment you do that, Fums guitarist Melvin will almost certainly start complaining about “the fucking annoying rash” he can’t seem to get rid of (the one that seems to pop up every time someone tries to be slick and make a Mummies comparison), which is exactly what he does when he talks to The Nerve. Comparisons aside, the Fe Fi Fo Fums have rumbled together a sound that’s all their own, calling it a “masterpiece of modern moronity,” which sems pretty appropriate when you hear Melvin joking about adding “strings and a timpani. And um uh... a gospel choir” to the mix for the next recording. So that’s it. And if it all sounds ridiculous that’s because it sorta is. The Fe Fi Fo Fums are a genuine
party rock band; they play wet t-shirt contests in Florida and go Boom Boom in the night. They may have formed just for one show but now after a bunch of singles, a shiny new LP called In the Summer Time (Boom Boom Party Records), tons of shows, and one very naked photo shoot involving t-bone steaks, the boys are still at it and headed to Canada. And they promise, well Melvin does at least, “we shouldn’t be sober enough to play the songs right. And “you shouldn’t be sober enough to care.” Sounds like the perfect night to come up with some more half-witted made-up words. I’m guessing the Fe Fi Fo Fums discovered “Electrofize” (the inspiration behind the song “Electrofize Me”) under very similar circumstances! n The Fe Fi Fo Fums play with Ladies Night and the Master Apes at Pat’s Pub in Vancouver Saturday, May 12
VietNam Full Metal Yakety
By Adrian Mack
I
t’s 4:20, on 4/20, and two blocks from the Nerve office there are 4000 kids getting high on the grounds of the Vancouver Art Gallery. How nice that people can still get together for an important cause. Back in straightsville, I’m on the phone with Josh Grubb, the very appropriately named vocalist-guitarist from VietNam. Older readers will remember Vietnam as the country where the US military had its ass reamed by tiny little peasants, back in the ‘60s and ‘70s, in an effort to protect us all from communism. And also - possibly - to preserve an extraordinarily lucrative passage for the smuggling of heroin, quite often stuffed into the corpses of fallen American teenagers in uniforms. War really is a twofaced bitch, isn’t it? VietNam, then, is a great name for an American band. Especially this one, right now, and especially especially because its eponymous debut album is such a heavy trip; a black and purple fucking bruise of a record, built almost entirely on two-chord dirges and fraught, Rolling Thunder-Dylan shaped howls of anguish. But where Dylan predicted the future,Vietnam gushes despairingly over the present. Take “Apocalypse”, which is Grubb’s favourite track from the album. “There’s a lot of soul in that song,” he says, his voice broken from touring, and worse. “It’s one of the more real ones. We wrote it after 9/11, and
that’s about as political as we’ll get. Other people can interpret it as they want but it’s that idea of just kind of watching everything burn all around you.” VietNam was signed to Vice Records when both the band and the label were infants, meaning VietNam had to endure mountains of prejudice. A disconsolate, grating EP in 2004 didn’t help matters, while a gloriously degenerate lifestyle (celebrated in a brilliant December 2006 Fader article) gave them a mutant edge in swingin’ New York Disney that put the band on the outside. “We made a decision that we wanted to be like real blues music, real rock music,” Grubb explains, passionately, “and you just have to live it, you know? Fuckin’ do it hard, go hard…” Now the band is signed to Kemado, and the album is a gob-stopping improvement. Given that it took six years to make, can we assume that the old rule Bad Government = Good Music might have had something to do it? “It’s always been my philosophy,” croaks Grubb, before making some crack about Broken Social Scene getting $400,000 a year from the Canadian government for meat plates and golf carts, or something. I can’t be bothered to fact-check that particular assertion, so let’s just assume it’s true. So FUCK Broken Social Scene. Seriously. Fuck them! Josh Grubb is virtually homeless. “I haven’t made a dollar yet,” he moans. “It’s just funny when you’re on the cover of a magazine, and I was trying to scrounge up
Better than the shit they used to smoke in Nam change to pay for a subway token.” It should be added that the VietNam album was recorded, mixed, and mastered in the Vietnam-era analogue medium. Maybe that’s why it sounds like gold, baby. Grubb agrees (not surprising), even after confessing that his band is listening to German
techno currently. “DJ Naughtyboy really pumps us up,” he drawls. Fucking weirdos!!! n Vietnam opens for the Black Angels at Richard’s on Richards,Vancouver, May 25
Explosions in the Sky All of a Sudden I Miss Choruses
says drummer Chris Hrasky, calling from his mom’s house in Bozeman, Montana, during a break in the band’s touring schedule. “We don’t feel we have to invoke some type of formula,” he insists, though he also admits there are some standards to observe, albeit loose. “There’s these loud crescendos, the sweeping melodic…” Hrasky pauses, searching for the right prock word. These crazy motherfuckers are goin’ OFF! “Whatever,” he sighs, before explaining By Jon Braun that EITS needs to challenge itself, and rock. This is what the music aficionados and geeks alike should get a little out of its comfort zone to keep everybody interested next be labelling bands such as Austin’s Explosions in the Sky, because time they hit the studio. He doesn’t “exactly know what that means,” “post-rock” – as a label - is stale and boring, but “prock” sounds but Hrasky assures us it’ll be different. Once the band starts writing funny. Prock has its limits, mind you. Most prock songs are characteragain. Except that he’s not sure when that’s going to happen. Or just ized by long rides through rolling, weaving and whining guitars, or crashhow different it’s going to be. ing great cymbal epics. Mogwai is really good at this. Explosions in the “You don’t want to push that too hard,” says the 33-year-old, apSky might like to try something new; something a little outside prock’s parently having an open debate with himself. “When you’re very self lines. Maybe. consciousness about trying to change or do something different, a lot “The only limitations are obviously anything we set on ourselves,” times it comes off not so well.”
LCD Soundsystem
By Samantha Laserson
Y
ou’d have to be living under a rock to not know about James Murphy, the man behind the DFA label and more importantly, indieelectronic outfit LCD Soundsystem. Infamous for the 2002 mega hit Losing My Edge, which essentially catapulted LCD Soundsystem into the sonic stratosphere, Murphy is in a brittle mood when he speaks to The Nerve about the Soundsystem’s newest album Sounds of Silver. “It means a couple different things for me,” Murphy answers, when asked about the album title. “Second place, second record.” Regardless, Sounds of Silver is anything but second best for Murphy. “We’re in the 5% good on earth. I wouldn’t do this if I thought I wasn’t in the 5% good,” he offers, but adds, “On our first record, I thought the sounds were a bit too precise. I wanted this one to be a little bit more garish, and unwieldy.” These odd intentions aside, Murphy’s creative strategies seem to be automatic after almost two decades of working in music, if a little abstract.
“Well, I just really want to try and make a song,” he explains. “There’s not really a point, just a perspective. I usually have pretty specific perspectives, and I just try and be honorable to them. I make sure the words are coming from the place they’re about, except I don’t really care what they’re about, as long as they’re coming from the space that I’m trying to come from.” Uhh… okay. What’s the difference between a “point” and a “specific perspective”? Beats me. Murphy continues, “By coming up with the title first, I’ll know what they’re about and what they mean.” Murphy then evidently employees some precautionary measures to prevent his over-clocked brain from obliterating the developing song. “I have processes that I go through, especially when I’m trying to be creative, which keep me from over thinking,” he admits. “I prefer to make the things with some amount of spontaneity.” Minimal preparation for his “things,” such as improvising lyrics the day they’re recorded, demonstrates how, for LCD
Explosions in the Sky play at the Croatian Cultural Center May 5, and Seattle’s Neumo’s on the 6th and 7th.
More G M ore Goood! od!
Soundsystem, taking a simple route works best. And this minimalist strategy carries over into his performances as well. “I like performing, and I’ll like the show as long as it sounds good and I’m not over thinking it,” Murphy says. Well, there’s an old saying, ‘genius simplifies’. On the other hand, so does idiocy. In any event, Murphy is definitely one for simplicity. When I ask, “What kind of sound are you trying to produce with your record?” Murphy pauses, and replies, “I just want to make a good record… um... um... yeah, just try to make a good record. Just try and make it sound like the last record, but make it better.” “Better how?” I ask. “More... good,” he says. n LCD Soundsystem appears at the Commodore in Vancouver, May 3, and Celebrities in Vancouver, May 4, the Social in Toronto, May 5, the Phoenix Concert Theatre in Toronto, May 8, and le Spectrum in Montreal, May 9
PHOTO: JAKE WALTERS
P
The band has been around since 1999 and has toured its share of 500 seat venues. Hrasky sounds exhausted just mentioning that fact. In 2004 they composed most of the soundtrack to the high school football drama Friday Night Lights, and this February EITS performed on the Conan O’Brien show on the same day that its newest album, All of a Sudden I Miss Everyone, was released. “We were nervous,” says Hrasky, of the band’s TV performance. “But it was a good memory.” All this gradual exposure means that EITS has graduated to bigger rooms, where very respectable crowds of 1500 or so can be seen “procking out” (my term).“There’ll be kids jumping around, people sitting there with their eyes closed,” Hrasky says. “One thing I’m noticing more on this tour is people making out.” Ahem. Procking out. Fun aside, Hrasky thinks this is pretty cool: that the quartet of Generation-Xers can make people fall into romantic trances, or asleep. It sounds like a good time. Could there be any room to make it better? “It’s hard for us to know,” replies Hrasky. “I have no idea what it’s like to see us live.” n
There’s nothing like a steaming cup of tea for keeping your edge The Nerve May 2007 Page 13
Black Rebel Get Where They’re At! Motorcycle Club
By Spackler and Smails
B
RMC has the utmost respect of Spackler and Smails, even if guitarist-vocalist Peter Hayes needs to brush up on his UK glam rock of the ‘70s a little bit. That aside, we predict the band’s new album Baby 81 will be a stormer, cuz the last one Howl definitely was. We spoke to guitarist-vocalist Pete Hayes as he sat in London, England. His voice was so smoke damaged and party-sick that it made us horny. Did you get your picture taken with the Stones when you played with them? Yeah we did. Did they do that thing where they all take one step forward, so that they look taller? No. There was no stepping forward. We’re pretty short ourselves, so we fit right in. At least, I am. There was a photo embargo that said if that picture was to ever leak anywhere, something bad would happen. I’m not quite sure what it was, but we’re not supposed to be putting it anywhere but into our wallets, I guess. But all that aside, it was amazing, tremendous. It’s the fucking Rolling Stones. I shook Mick Jagger’s and Keith Richards’ hands. Holy fuck. That’s a gnarly hand on Keith Richards. Yeah, it’s strangely soft, actually. That was the first comment out of everybody’s mouth. Wow, Keith Richards’ hand is really soft! What’s the best ever Stones bootleg? Best ever Stones bootleg? I don’t know. I don’t have any. Okay. The answer is Bedspring Symphony. Hmm. Alright. What can you tell us about your new album Baby 81, since nobody was decent enough to send us a copy? That’s wonderful. I’m glad they didn’t give it to you.You can get it off the internet though.You can download it.
We don’t know how to use the internet. That’s insane. It’s the most wonderful thing you’ve ever heard. Really? What’s the best ever Slade song? I’ve never heard Slade. You’ve heard Slade. You’ve heard “Cum on Feel the Noize”. Oh, “Cum on Feel the Noize”. Boys and girls, something like that. Girls grab your boys… Girls grab your boys, yeah. The English are strange folks. Hello? Did you hang up on me after that one? No, I’m still here. Okay. Well that’s the only Slade song I know, so I guess that’s their best one. Whaddya make of all the drone bands out there now, like Psychic Ills and Meno, Menoomee, Menomenoneno, whatever the fuck they’re called, fuck, What’s your opinion on all that crap? Ah. Um. Ah.Yeah.You know. They’re bitchin’. I’m of the opinion that I just gotta give everybody their space right now. That’s where I’m at.Yeah, I’m into drone music, definitely. I’m in a place where I’ll give everybody their space. That sounds like a Sun Ra album! There’s enough people talking shit about us, that I don’t need to talk shit about anyone else, you know? I don’t know much about those bands, and I wish them luck. San Fran, where you’re from, that’s a weird fuckin’ place. I grew up with some pretty healthy disrespect for city folk, and I try to hold on to that as much as possible. I spent a lot of time on a farm and we didn’t like city kids, but I somehow ended up in a position where I make my living inside cities. I depend on them, now. You can hear the farm boy in Howl. Is
that a fair statement? Yeah, definitely. I was drawing from my past a bit, on Howl. Will you retire to the country? Country gentleman in tweeds and so forth? I’ll be the guy just on the outskirts of town that’s shooting windows out. I like living near town, because then I can go in and get a beer once in a while, you know what I mean? Are you handy? Could you build a treehouse? Oh shit, no, I’m not handy. I think your band has unusual staying power because it seems, from the outside, like you just don’t give a shit. Well, we really do give a shit. We really give a shit about the fact that this is supposed to mean something to people. We give a hearty shit about that. We rely on our fans. They’re the ones that kept us going, and we wouldn’t be here… I dunno what we’d be doing. Shooting the windows out of the city.
six gazillion bands, including S.T.R.E.E.T.S. and Shitless Fucker. He drums for the Deathrays. Possessed drum grunt Brad was in Radio Berlin and Fuck Me USA. Dan on guitar-vocals wrote my favourite Bison tune, “The Curse (of the White Wizard)”. Bassist Masa plays with the revamped Karen Foster and keyboards for Goatsblood. People I meet revere this unassuming Asian devil as the Vancouver scene’s Golden Child - have him in your band, and you’ll be awesome. He struts a smokin’ rock stance. The complete Bison sounds a lot like dirty riffbouncin’ Mastodon (you don’t say!?), with a healthy sludgy stoner wizardry, fists-to-nuts ferocity, lotsa bendy, bendy thunder. As has been noted elsewhere, the riffery is so awesome, so ACE, so unexpectedly
rad beyond reason, that it’s hard to believe this act is from Vancouver.Yes. Metal this chunky only breeds in the Deep South, or Sweden. Really, that choking tremelo-ridden doom shit in “Wartime” out-sludges Dimebag’s entire arsenal. ARE YOU LISTENING SOUTHERN LORD? TEE PEE? RELAPSE? Give ‘em an album. I love Heavy again. Lounging around Bison’s jam room before a Pub(e) 340 gig, it’s the stupidest, DUDE Beer-aggled sack of shit interview in the annals of journalistic non-professionalism. Important topics: Redbone (“Come and Get Your Love”), the skyrocketing cost of mozzarella, crusty punks smashing their guitars at Logan’s Pub, later weeping that they ruined a gift from grandma. However, that eve at a steam-packed 340... golly Jesus! Wreckless! Absolutely batshit. Near me was one of the punks from Limb From Limb. They’d followed Bison on-stage the previous night., an event this dude summarized with awestruck seriousness as, “HORRIBLE.” Alive since last fall, Bison are finishing their first six-song EP. “Just a lil’ pup,” says Dan, “We spent four days at the Hive with Jesse Gander. Blasted it out. We’re going to make a few CDRs. We just started talking to Nick Hart of Forest Records about maybe helping us put it out. It’s all speculation at this point...” I’m curious about the lyrical content of a song like “Stokasaurus”. “James writes songs about war,” Dan pipes, “And aliens. And pestilence. The Wendigo from Native Mythology.” Oh? Dan himself writes, apparently, about White Wizards. Awesome. And good story about their classic shit-ass
There’s enough people talking shit about us, that I don’t need to talk shit about anyone else
Yeah. I’d be back in the treehouse shooting windows out. That’s the back-up plan, right? What’s your go-to record? I always go back to the More soundtrack, by Pink Floyd. I’ve never even seen the movie but the soundtrack is just lovely. It goes every which way. I don’t think Syd Barrett’s on that one. I never liked Dark Side of the Moon that much, I don’t know why. I liked Echoes. I liked Ummagumma. But I could listen to More all day long. There’s such a variety of songs on it. On vinyl? I gave it to a friend of mine, actually, It was beautiful. I figured, if you want to give somebody something, give them your most favourite thing. That’s also what suicidal people do. Yeah, I know! Well, I don’t regret it, and I’m looking for another one. n Black Rebel Motorcycle Club plays at Richard’s on Richards in Vancouver, May 12, and the Showbox in Seattle, May 13
BISON
Actually from Vancouver!
By Dave Bertrand
I
like big animals. I like bands with big animal names. Mastodon. Wooly (sic) Mammoth. Tusks and snouts. Big and hairy. So fucking hairy. I’ve been praying for a band called Yak. Or Musk Ox. But what’s better than BISON? Listen to that! Strong. Masculine. Focused. Sheffield, England has a band with the same name. Vancouver even had a prior Bison, totally unrelated, now defunct. Ain’t that fucked? Explains drummer Brad McKinnon, “We kind of found out after the fact, then heard that they were broke up anyway.” Guitarist James Gnarwell retorts, “That’s not true, and I don’t really care.” OK then. Our Bison is four dudes - two beards, two no-beards. James on guitar-vocals, formerly of
The Nerve May 2007 Page 14
rock’n’roll van. James: “The van was purchased from Todd (name omitted), a fucking devious son of a bitch. I paid him 800 dollars for it. He told me a couple years after that he didn’t think it was going to last two fucking weeks. It’s been to hell and back. It’s been all over America and Canada. It started off with S.T.R.E.E.T.S., just soaking up so many fluids, beer, vomit, and whatnot. Destroyer had it for a couple of tours. And then Pride Tiger took it, put a bunch of jizz stains in it. I think I crawled up into that loft and got AIDS. Then Pride Tiger hit the big time, and we bought it back from them. She is a fucking BEAUTY.” Touching. Bison are also big fans of STUNT ROCK – an amazing shit movie of the mid-70’s – featuring the band Sorcery, a hard rock/magic show extravaganza with two on-stage ‘wizards’ doing battle with wands and pyrotechnics. I compare Sorcery to “a really bad Judas Priest”, only to have James shout, “They’re not bad. They’re actually really, really good... this interview’s OVER!!!” See? Silly fucking interview. I can’t even tell who’s talking. I’ll add that Brad’s ride-snare trip late in “Earthbound” is sick as fuck, and Bison are adamant about cheap gig tickets. “Everyone can afford six bucks,” says James, “Eight’s a little yellow nervous, nine’s like, are you fucking shitting me? Six is the classic Fugazi number...” Hands-downs the best metal band in Vancouver. n Bison plays at the Lucky Bar in Victoria, May 24, Pub 340 in Vancouver, May 25, and the Lamplighter in Vancouver, May 29
Blonde Redhead
I Really Just Wanted to Kick that Little Dog Thru a Fuckin’ Window
By Samantha Laserson
focus the band has achieved with 23 has been sudden, and unexpected. “We were always very hands on,” she says, of the band’s previous experiences in the studio. “We were always chasing after this image we had for ourselves.” For 23, however, Kazu, the Pace brothers, and drummer Maki Takahashi took the production reigns for themselves, for the first time. “Whatever we couldn’t express before,” Kazu asserts, “we developed [for 23].” But the road to Blonde Redhead’s total creative liberation starts three years ago, with the previous album Misery is a Butterfly. Misery… was inspired by a traumatic accident in which Kazu’s face was basically trampled by a horse. The album thus emerged as a response to the tragedy, tying together a variety of equestrian themes, which are audible throughout. An emotionally wearing period of touring and writing followed. “We worked really, really hard after Misery,” Kazu explains, wearily. “We toured a lot longer than we thought we were going to… and the touring kind of repressed our creativity. The Misery tour was so long, so to bounce back was really quite hard.” Nonetheless, with 23 as the band’s most wellreceived album to date, bouncing back is precisely what the band did. Kazu puts this down to a welldeveloped songwriting regimen, explaining that they first establish specific timeframes in which to compose. “You give yourself this time,” she says. “And then we eat, and go see our friends, and we say, ‘okay, this is your writing period.’ It sort of becomes a pretence where unconsciously, we are always thinking about our music.” Besides her commitment to Blonde Redhead, Kazu’s talents have been deployed elsewhere
It would be great if people could just hear what I hear
recently, including a duet with former Smashing Pumpkin James Iha for the Serge Gainsbourg tribute album Mr Gainsbourg Revisited, as well as on TV on the Radio’s “Hours”, from the album Return to Cookie Monster. “It’s very challenging to do something that isn’t your own,” she admits, “because you’re not sure if you’re adding something to their work or not.” Kazu allows, however, that “it’s a very good thing for my self esteem in a superficial sense.” If it seems as though she’s driven by a desire for flattery and recognition, Kazu’s next statement points to purer motivations behind her art. “Ultimately, she says, “it would be great if people could just hear what I hear.” The cinematic, ethereal nature of her songs provide Kazu with a sense of escape, hiding within the folds of each tracks’ surreal, sonic mystery. Despite the praise 23 has already received, which will undoubtedly make BALLS OUT ROCK ‘N’ ROLL THUNDER!!! indie-rock royalty out of Blonde Redhead, Kazu’s intent remains humble and basic. “If people could just get a dreamlike sense from it,” she concludes, “I Blonde Redhead appears at the Opera House in Toronto, think that would just be really good.” n May 11 PHOTO: SEBASTIAN MLYNARSKI
I
t’s a balmy afternoon on 4/20 as I linger outside a graffiti-splattered doorway in an alley behind the Commodore Ballroom, waiting for Blonde Redhead’s front girl Kazu Makino. I’m here to discuss 23, the New York trio’s most critically acclaimed album to date. Once inside the venue, Kazu and I seat ourselves at a table while light pours in from all directions through the room’s shuttered windows, shrouding the Tokyo native in an angelic halo. Her dog, Collette, is shrieking and yapping and she takes a moment to pass the creature to her assistant. “These dogs are usually not this evil,” she apologizes, while softly scolding the toy canine. Kazu has a delicate frame, and her hair is in a braid with small pieces falling all over her face. She habitually casts her eyes to the side, and her posture is slightly hunched. She reminds me of a flower. I begin by reading aloud several lines of praise about 23, asking Kazu how she feels about it being “before, of, and beyond its time,” (Amplifier Magazine) and “the most epic sounding” (Washington Post) album Blonde Redhead has ever recorded. She looks at me for the first time, apparently surprised by some quotes from her band’s own press release. “Not to be egocentric or anything,” she starts, “but when the song [“23”] was nearly finished, I listened to it, and I was like,” her eyes widen, “how does it sound like this?” “You mean, you were happy with it?” I inquire. “Yes,” she replies. Indeed, the album’s dreamscape of melancholy chords and hypnotic bass-lines, woven together with Kazu’s distinctly ghostlike vocals, is nothing short of a sonic masterpiece. But even for Kazu, the musical
The Sea and Cake
PHOTO: Jim newberryy
Still No Explanation on that Name
How the fuck did the dude with three fingers make the doggy shadow??!!
By Will Pedley
I
manage to catch guitarist Archer Prewitt at his Chicago home, during an afternoon break in between pre-tour rehearsals for the Sea and Cake, and sound checking with his solo band for a local show supporting the Frames. In addition to his solo output, Prewitt is the creator of the Sof ’ Boy comic strip, and a successful artist to boot. He’s not the only one in the Sea and Cake that’s a busy boy, either. Bassist Eric Claridge and Sam Prekop (vocalsguitar) are also both artists and have their own solo projects, while John McEntire is a member of Tortoise, and runs a studio where he’s worked with acts such as Trans Am, Smog, and Stereolab. It’s a wonder, therefore, that the Sea and Cake ever find the time to get together at all. In fact, it’s been four years since the band released anything. “I think we’ve started realizing the error in these gaps,” Prewitt confesses. “Once we made this latest record, we were back in the studio making bonus tracks, and they came so easily, I think once you’ve got over
the hurdle of making a record you can coast on a certain momentum when all the juices are flowing, when all the camaraderie and the chemistry is in place.” Prewitt continues, “The thing is, we’ve never been touring road monsters or road warriors, following the pattern of putting a record out every year, unfortunately. But I think it’s time to re-evaluate the importance of what we do and maybe not take it for granted that people will be there to listen.” Fortunately for them, and considering the nature of their music - a rather idiosyncratic and sometimes jazzy take on indie that gradually seeps into your consciousness as apposed to grabbing you by the throat - the Sea and the Cake are likely to appeal to a more patient audience that’s quite happy to wait faithfully for the next album. Fortunately for their fans, that wait will finally be over this summer with the release of their seventh full-length, Everybody.
This latest album sees the band on fine form, bringing together a collection of songs that are essentially pop tunes underpinned by a more complex and considered musical approach, colored by Sam’s songwriting, which Prewitt describes as “sunny but melancholy at the same time”. Previously, the band has had a very insular approach to recording their albums, but they’ve gone down a different route this time. “I think it was good to switch up the way we made this album with Brian Paulson,” Prewitt announces. “We’ve always done it ourselves with John recording, but this time we decided it was time to let John just play the drums and let someone else document it. We went to a different studio rather than doing it in John’s studio, taking ourselves out of a comfortable situation, which was a really good thing for us to do.” “With the last album (One Bedroom) there was a lot of post production quality to it. This time it was more about crafting the songs and then simply documenting them. With that being the idea from the outset, it was good to have someone else recording it so that we could concentrate on being a band and not doing this double duty business.” They (whoever ‘they’ are) say that with age comes wisdom, and that we can learn from our mistakes. This may be true but, according to Prewitt (who will soon turn 44), you can also learn from your successes. “I’ve always maintained that Oui is one of my favorite Sea and Cake records,” he says. “And I was listening to it the other night just to
relearn some of the old material, and I was thinking that it’s even better than I remembered. The fact that we really toned it down and refined everything means that, to me, it will stand the test of time. I think a lot of that is in this new record too. It’s more about considered and distilled ideas. As I get older I feel that if you’re going to make a record, you better know what you’re going in there for.You better cut away all the fat. That’s all I’m concerned about. Making it strong, making it melodic, and cleaving the fat off.” Prewitt is also happily married and has a desire to start a family, but balancing this with his music and his art could certainly be a tricky business. Perhaps giving up the band might be a necessary sacrifice. So has he considered calling it a day? “Sometimes I think about it pretty seriously,” he reveals, “but it’s always born from inactivity. It’s born from getting so far away from that experience that it becomes alien to work with these people. Then we wonder whether we’re going to be able to do it again, but then we realize that it’s no problem at all. I think the momentum is there now and the appreciation of what we’re able to do as a band. I think we at least have one more record in us.” n
All I’m concerned about is making it strong, making it melodic, and cleaving the fat off
The Sea and the Cake play at Richard’s on Richards, Vancouver on May 14, Neumo’s in Seattle on May 15, the Mod Club Theatre in Toronto, June 2, and la Sala Rossa in Montreal, June 3
The Nerve May 2007 Page 15
The Minimalist Jug Band ILLUSTRATION: DEVON CODY
Any Reaction Will Do
By Allan MacInnis
T
here’s this guy on the stage. He’s got a homemade instrument – a stick, a string, and a washtub – and he is plucking at the string with great abandon. (It’s hard to describe him as “playing” it, since every note sounds pretty much like every other note.) He is grinding his way through a cranky, self-deprecating rant, which happens to rhyme. Several of the members of the audience who are listening to his lyrics – quite a few aren’t - seem not to know what to make of him: his songs tend to get rather personal. I’m having dizzy spells, Things are shifting, turning And every day Well my guts are churning And I ask myself, I mean, What’s the answer Is it a brain tumour or stomach cancer? And I take a walk And I talk to the doc And I see what the doc thought and he says, “You’re making yourself sick” I’m making myself sick! At the end of the evening, he may well destroy his instrument, which usually involves breaking the stick over his knee; the effect is somewhat underwhelming, though quite funny. The man is Al Mader – better known as the Minimalist Jug Band, also referred to in one of his songs as “A Washed-Up Guy on a Washtub Bass.” “When I first started performing I think people generally felt sorry for me,” Al shrugs. “Occasionally strangers would ask if they could give me a hug. Several times I’ve been heckled, and then after I finished the heckler will come and sit with me, which always seems odd... One time this young guy was heckling me at the start of the show and then by the end he wanted me to come with him and help him quit his job.”
The Nerve May 2007 Page 16
Asked why he favours covering disturbing emotional territory in his songs, Al says, “Are they disturbing? Good!” He elaborates, “I often write as a way of grappling with ideas and emotions and have no intention of sharing,” Al explains. “Those are usually the most worthwhile pieces. I have some that are still in limbo, either to protect myself or others... I am a very private person, but prefer art that shows vulnerability and has some emotional impact (and humour), so some sacrifices are required.” Not all of Mader’s songs have a discomfiting confessional quality, however. “Dead Man’s Pants,” inspired by Al’s experiences buying clothes from thrift stores and wondering about previous owners, is more likely to make listeners laugh than squirm. Also, many of his songs mix fiction with fact, affording him a bit of privacy. Still, songs like “I’m a Lousy Lay” tend to divide the audience squarely: between those who tune Al out, embarrassed, annoyed, or just plain uncomfortable - and those who whoop and cheer and egg him on, hoping, he guesses, that he will “act out their repressions.” Mader is surprisingly comfortable with both extremes his performances inspire. “As long as people are reacting one way or another, as a performer it gives you something to go on. I don’t need them to feel one way or the other, but I need them to feel.” Some audience members have told him after shows
“you’ve got a lot of guts,” which, Al points out, “is a kind of mixed review, if you think about it.” Fans of the Minimalist Jug Band’s first CD, For Crying Out Loud – produced by Chris Houston, with homemade cover art drawn on pieces of old cereal boxes – will be happy to note that Al’s sophomore effort, Thrift Stories, is nearing completion, and may soon be turning up at Red Cat and Zulu. The title was supplied by Mader’s poet friend Susan Parker; unlike his previous one-man release, the CD boasts a wide range of guest musicians, including Steven Nikleva, Ronnie Hayward, Ed Goodine, and Megan Rose. The country blues/ roots music artist Petunia (“an amazing singer, in the Jimmie Rodgers vein”) makes a particularly noteworthy contribution in that he actually plays a jug, on the song “Love isn’t Blue,” which, Al tells me, “is sandwiched in between verses of his ‘My Gal’ song,” which Petunia has re-recorded for the disc. “He sings the first half, and then it segues into my song, and then there’s like a real contrast in styles, which is kind of startling... and then when I finish up he goes back into the second half of his song. I don’t know why, but he’s putting it on his CD and I’m putting it on mine, and it kinda seems fun.” Before the collaboration with Petunia, the only jug in the Minimalist Jug Band was in the name. Though “spoken word and theatre audiences are the most attentive” of the crowds the Minimalist Jug
When I first started performing I think people generally felt sorry for me
Band has played for, Mader prefers the challenge of opening for bands, and has had some cool opening slots – including British punk poet and humourist John Otway. “Otway was charming and gave me a copy of his autobiography, which is fascinating and hilarious,” Mader tells me. Another highlight was a gig opening for Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds at the Danforth Music Hall in Toronto. “They invited me to do more dates on that tour but I was moving to Halifax at that time.” Though Mader, who now makes his home in East Vancouver, often gigs at venues like the Montmartre and the Railway, he’s happy to play anywhere. “Sometimes the cabaret-style events are almost as fun. Doing shows with stripping Elvis or recently with the Canadian yo-yo champion makes life interesting.” Mader is a prime target for being labelled an Outsider Musician, but he isn’t entirely at ease with the term. “‘Outsider Music’ suggests a performer who is deluded and oblivious, who doesn’t really know what they’re doing. The performer is found art – you’re like a piece of wood that happens to look like something else, and it’s the person who ‘discovers’ you who gets to define you as an artist.You’re the soup can.” Though Al is a fan of outsiders like eccentric rockabilly guy Hasil Adkins, he doesn’t think he has much in common with Wesley Willis. Still, he adds, “I understand how I fall into that category. When I listen to myself in the context of musicians, my first impression is ‘what an ass!’ But I do find something compelling in the tension that results. I don’t create in a vacuum, which would seem to be an essential requirement for an outsider.” Asked what pisses him off about life in Vancouver, Mader notes that while Vancouverites “may have passion towards kayaking or hiking or something, it seems like there’s a fairly small percentage of the population that is obsessed with art.” He smiles dryly when I ask how this affects him. “I try to be immune to it, I guess. And act as if someone cares.” n
The Nerve May 2007 Page 17
JUNE 24 JUNE 25 JUNE 26 JUNE 29 JUNE 30 JULY 1 JULY 2
JUNE 7
DEER LAKE PARK, BURNABY BC YUKON ARTS CENTRE, WHITEHORSE NWT YELLOWKNIFE MULTIPLEX, YELLOWKNIFE YT PENGROWTH SADDLEDOME, CALGARY AB SHAW CONFERENCE CENTRE, EDMONTON AB TCU PLACE, SASKATOON SK MTS CENTRE, WINNIPEG MB
ALL AGES
*PLEASE NOTE: NOT ALL BANDS PERFORM IN ALL MARKETS. PLEASE CHECK LOCAL LISTINGS FOR EXACT BAND LINEUP
FRIDAY MAY 25
MAY 28
WITH SPECIAL GUESTS
LIGHTNING DUST (AMBER & JOSH OF BLACK MOUNTAIN)
PLUS GUESTS TICKETS ALSO AT ZULU AND SCRATCH
ALL AGES
CROATIAN CULTURAL CENTRE
MAY 18
JOEL PLASKETT EMERGENCY COMMODORE BALLROOM
The Nerve May 2007 Page 18
TICKETS ALSO AT ZULU, SCRATCH, RED CAT
MAY 22
LISA GERRARD
THE CENTRE FOR PERFORMING ARTS
MAY 23
BJORK
DEER LAKE PARK, BURNABY
RICHARD’S ON RICHARDS
MAY 26
FICTION PLANE THE PLAZA CLUB
TICKETS ALSO AT SCRAPE
JUNE 20
LINDSEY BUCKINGHAM COMMODORE BALLROOM
CROATIAN CULTURAL CENTRE
JUNE 24
THE VEILS THE PLAZA CLUB
Mark Mothersbaugh A Classic Underachiever
This is 1/30,000 of the entire exhibition.
By Ferdy Belland
B
orn in Akron OH in 1950, the one and only Mark Mothersbaugh was an eccentric art student at Kent State University, where he fatefully met one Gerald “Jerry” Casale on campus. The infamous May 1970 shootings of unarmed Kent State students (protesting Nixon’s invasion of Cambodia) by National Guardsmen not only inspired Neil Young to write “Ohio,” but it also inspired Mothersbaugh and Casale (who knew two of the students who died in the massacre) to take their long-standing fascination with the concept of ‘devolution’ – where a species will naturally evolve into a more primitive form – into a mordant socio-political performanceart ensemble that combined cornball sci-fi themes and surrealist humour inside of discordant, minimalist pop songs driven by prominent synthesizer sounds. DEVO formed in 1972 and endured the puzzled head-scratchings of the bearded unimpressed until their well-deserved public elevation into the highest ranks of the American branch of New Wave rock. That’s all well and good, but the reason why we’ve called you here today is that there’s much more to Mark Mothersbaugh than the fact that he made rock’n’roll safe for twerpy dweebs. Mark was kind enough to speak to the Nerve about his upcoming Vancouver gallery showing of his ‘Postcard Diaries’ series – seems that Mark began whiling away the long hours on the road with DEVO back in the 1970s by hand-crafting individualized postcards featuring his pleasantly bizarre artistry (reminiscent of a more psychedelic take on R. Crumb), which he would mail back to family and friends; to date he numbers more than 30,000 separate postcard design, possibly one of the most prolific running themes in art history…and I was kind enough not to bring up Doctor Detroit, OK? Nerve: Is this a rare thing for you, to be showing your work in Canadian galleries? Mothersbaugh: Well, I just had a showing in Toronto, but I can’t remember what the name of the festival was. I’m sure it’ll come back to me by the time we’re finished. The answer is: I guess, yes! But are you excited to be doing it? (distracted muttering) I’m sorry. DEVO’s going to Europe in a month or so, and we just met up with our new tour manager. What the heck’s all that about, huh? Well, it just goes to show that you can’t keep a good band down. It makes you wonder what it could all possibly mean. Anyhow,Vancouver’s a good city…except that the last time I was there, I came in on Halloween, and as I was trying to clear through customs, and one of the officers said to me, ‘Would you just like to tell us where the cocaine is?’ (laughs)
Are you serious? I couldn’t believe it. I was on a flight with all these little women with black shawls who were all about three feet tall, which was a perfect plane flight for Halloween. About the art show; will (Mutato project manager) Michael Pilmer be at the gallery showing to oversee things? Does he travel on your behalf? He’ll be there, yeah – I won’t be there, unfortunately, for a very specific reason. You’re off to China we understand. China works in mysterious ways. I’ve done this before, and you just have to grin and bear it. The Chinese authorities finally called up the other day to say, ‘you need to be in the glorious People’s Republic on May Day!’ So I’ll probably be staring at my new daughter when the gallery opens my show. Michael and I converse through the picture-phones on our computer, so if he’s got his equipment up and running, maybe my daughter can join us at the gallery.
ated to 70, so that’s a nice way to think about it. It all depends on the day. My daughter loves to come into our bedroom in the middle of the night and climb in the middle of the bed and practice martial arts. So my wife and I are ducking and trying to protect our kidneys and eye sockets while she’s flailing around in her supposed sleep. What if she’s really faking it? I didn’t think about that until just this minute! I understand that you have over 30,000 pieces to your ‘Postcard Diaries,’ stretching back thirty years? Yeah, ain’t that funny? That’s amazing! I put them in these red binders which hold 100 cards each, so there’s somewhere around 300 binders in my library. They look good on the bookshelves, you know, and then you pull them down and flip through them and think, ‘what the heck is this stuff?’ Yeah, it’s an accumulation. It’s a lifelong experiment.
I usually show my work in the galleries that host graffiti artists and street artists, which are run by people who are still excited about art.
Congratulations! You were seeking adoption, and I’m glad that it came through for you. You know, everybody always talks about the online dangers…’don’t let your husband go on the Internet late at night!’ But it’s always the wives you have to watch out for; they’re capable of much more crazy shit than men are. I have to give my wife full credit for this.
Being an artist, you should appreciate how parenthood is the ultimate form of creativity. Oh, yeah. The funny thing is, I learned to respect that only after becoming a parent, actually. I didn’t realize what I was missing until I got involved in it. So there you go. I’m lucky that my wife is as hard-headed as she is. With the adventurous, artsy life you’ve lead, do you feel 57, or do you feel like three 19-year-olds combined? Oh, thank you! These days, I wake up feeling 19, but by about three in the afternoon it’s already degener-
It’s a marvelous achievement, and it’s awesome to know it’s still a work in
progress. It’s an obsessive compulsion. It’s the one thing which I would have the hardest time giving up, if I had to give up something in my life right now, other than the obvious things that would make more sense than that – that sounds dramatic! It’s the one artistic activity I would have the hardest time setting aside, to be sure. If you drew 30,000 postcards in 30 years, that means 1000 a year, which boils down to three a day. Some days were quite prodigious. Touring with DEVO, for instance, in some ways it’s similar to recording an orchestra for a film. There’s a lot of downtime and there’s a lot of time when you’re sitting there and using your ears, and your hands could be doing something else… It’s definitely a labour of love, and it’s somewhat uncensored. Any Vancouver stops on the upcoming DEVO tour? Not until next year, when we do our north-of-theborder tour.Yippee!
Did the underground comics of the 1960s influence your early art at all? Yeah. I was a big fan of all the Zap Comics artists, probably in particular people like Basil Wolverton and Robert Williams. Robert I later became friends with, but I loved those comic books. In Ohio, we were in a cultural wasteland back in the ‘60s and ‘70s, and we had to rely on publications like Rolling Stone and Crawdaddy and Zap Comics to get your information about what was really going on in the world. Are there any latter-day artists whose work you enjoy? There’s a guy who I think is my favorite artist in the whole world. He lives in Barcelona – he’s not that popular – but his name is Marti, and he did a series called Taxi Driver, and his style is a sort of modernday Chester Gould. He uses a lot of black. Chester Gould’s my all-time hero, and because of him I use a lot of dark area in my drawings. I’m really bad with the names of a lot of the artists I like these days. I like a lot of the artists you’d find in the current issue of Juxtapose, for example. I’m friends with people like Mark Ryden, who I’ve approached before about collaborating on projects where I’d be doing music and he’d be doing visuals. He hasn’t said yes yet (sighs), but he’s a pretty busy guy in his own world. It’s too bad you won’t be able to make it to the Vancouver show after all. I really wish I was going up to Vancouver. I like to attend these shows.You run into people that are still excited about art, and who still believe that it might make a big difference, or might have some resonance in the world. When you work in films and television here in Los Angeles, everyone gets so jaded here. It’s terrible! If I’m working on a score for some big-budget film, I’ll hear a director and a producer and some editors, or whoever, sitting behind me while I’m writing, and they’re not paying attention to what’s going on, talking about their deals or how much they made, or how much some bastard actor charged to be in their movie and then did a lousy job…it sucks. It makes you forget how it all started. When I do these shows, I like to find the newer galleries or the lesser-known galleries – and certainly not the galleries where bankers are coming in, looking for investment property. I usually show my work in the galleries that host graffiti artists and street artists, which are run by people who might have just gotten out of art school and are still excited about art and what it means. n Mark Mothersbaugh’s current run of his ‘Postcard Diaries’ will be showcased at the JEM Gallery (225 E. Broadway,Vancouver BC;) May 4 through 30. For more information please visit www.jemgallery.com.
The Nerve May 2007 Page 19
The Nerve May 2007 Page 20
Cannonball!! Part 1 of 3 By Carl Spackler Four months ago, the Nerve sent Carl Spackler to LA to cover a Guns ‘n’ Roses concert.We asked for 500 words. This is part one of his three-part review.
T
he plane landed hard and bounced across the runway like a bad cheque. I walked out into the blinding California sun. I was ready for serious howling at the moon, like Romulus after suckling at his mother’s hairy teat. All man, part beast, and lusty for conquering. My connection at LAX, Benny, felt the vibes and drove at top speed to his favorite bar, the Drawing Room, where the party was already in full swing at noon. I was here to cover the Guns ‘n Roses concert: their first hometown show in 12 years. It was an assignment I didn’t relish. Burning wrecks with people trapped in ‘em has never been my bag - no one deserves a death like that, except maybe that guy from Hedley.
We had some time to kill though, so we rolled into the Drawing Room where I was introduced to a group of wild-eyed freaks jabbering and barking at machine gun speed. A hard peroxide waitress brought over a tray of Irish car bombs and didn’t even blink a giant fake eyelash at the enormous bag of white powder sitting on the table, with a rather large, menacing hunting knife stuck deep inside its crystalline contents. One of the young madmen pushed the bag at me, and his eyes rolled back in his head. “Here, Carl,” he said, “It’ll get right under you.” I nodded. There must have been three lbs of the stuff. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to jump on the crazy train so early in the day, knowing I was here to do a job, but Benny gave the thumbs up and said, “Set us both up, Carl!” Well, what the hell, maybe just a bump. I knocked it back, my nasal cavity froze, and my head seemed to fill up like a balloon. Whoa! This was pure Charlie, white as Rocky Mountain snow. I looked at my amigo. “Pretty sweet, eh?” he said. “My gawd, the purity! The clarity!” I yelled at the
top of my voice. “Ye Godz! What gives?” “One less border to cross Carl” he drawled, “and a few less Sticky Fingers!” He whooped and screamed, clapped his hands, and did a little jig in the booth all to the pounding chorus of “Hot for Teacher”. The room began to pulse as four girls jumped up and started to dance and scream as Diamond Dave screeched about his need for a Mary Letourneau or two, and every one bought it hook, lines, and hooker. The thing about being broke, drunk, and stoned in a great little bar in Hollywood is that people are going for it. And when you hear songs that were born and bred in sleaze, well, they pack a lot more wallop here than they do in a bar in, say, Edmonton. Feelin’ “L.A Woman” blasting so loud on the jukebox that you have to scream to be heard and all you can scream is Woo! Yeah! While people drink, snort, shake, shimmy, and sing all at the same time is fan-fucking-tastic, baby. I could really get used to this foreign correspondent life. Anyways, I remember
feeling the need to stand on the bar at one point and sing “Four Strong Winds”, which I introduced as the song that should be the fuckin’ Canadian national anthem (I used to lean towards Funkadelic’s “Music for your Mother”, but as I get older the patriot in me can creep out at times). Several ex-pats in the room heard the call to arms and stood and sang loudly and proudly, with much clinking of glasses. I was feeling pretty good at this point, and had switched to Cuba Libres because I felt they had the staying power I needed to prolong this thing, so I wouldn’t go home empty-handed due to another blackout, and have to make up the entire story (see my feature on Pearls and Brass, issue #60). I was also concerned to say the least. I was big fan, in like… 1987. This is a band that hasn’t written a decent song for 20 years. But it’s a job. So after my bitchin’ turn at “I Am I Said” - which brought a standing ovation - we headed off up a very steep hill to the Universal Amphitheatre, to go and see what this thing called G’N R looks like today. .. (continued next month) n
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DVD reviews and a Eulogy
El Topo and The Holy Mountain Dir: Alejandro Jodorowsky Anchor Bay El Topo (1970) is the mother of midnight movies, and one of the holy cult films of all time. Until now, it’s only been available as a bootleg print, video or DVD. Officially released for the first time after Chilean madman/director Alejandro Jodorowsky and producer Allen Klein finally made peace after a three-decade feud, it’s been remastered and looks spectacular. I watched El Topo with my 21-year old sister in law, and she whined like a goddamned bitch all the way through. She hated it. Especially the child nudity. I love my sister-in-law, but my feeling is that if you can’t get with El Topo, then you need to go back to cool school. El Topo is a classic head movie; a psychedelic western built on hippy mysticism and Jodorowsky’s obsessions, which include extreme violence, bodily fluids, and especially freaks and limbless people. He’s got quite a thing for castration, too. It would be silly to describe El Topo further, so I’ll simply recommend it, which puts me in John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s company since it was their endorsement in 1970 that put El Topo on the map. It’s essential to your basic education, like Eraserhead or Night of the Living Dead. The castration and suicide of “The Colonel” is one of the most indelible sequences in switched-on cinema, even if you’re not a crazy stoner. It’s up there with Slim Pickens’ death in Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid. The Holy Mountain (1973) is bigger, grosser, and a thousand times more insane. If Fellini is a little too cautious for
you, Bunuel not outre enough, or Coffin Joe too cheap-ass, this film might scratch your itch. It’s incredible that it was ever made, since there isn’t a single minute that isn’t massively offensive on some level. Jodorowsky’s message is probably right and good—ie everything in our fucked-up world is an illusion—and the art direction and photography couldn’t be more sumptuous, but the preaching and eye-heroin also point to Jodorowksy’s messianic self-regard. He’ll stop at nothing to get the effect he wants, while casting himself in the allimportant role of “The Alchemist” (he’s a very charming presence on screen, mind you). After putting his actors through ego-death, with the assistance of psychedelic plants and shamans in the Mexican wilderness, Jodorowsky then pulls the
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carpet out with a “mind-blowing” twist at the end, which he improvised while the cast and crew suffered from altitude-induced delirium on the top of a mountain. They apparently wanted to kill him after that. Jodorowsky’s commentary track is double-priceless, as if the endless parade of freaks, surreal jokes, naked people, gore, blasphemy, excrement, ‘70s kitsch, the amazing mechanical vagina, the “sanctuary of one thousand testicles” and hot Mexican chicks isn’t enough already. We learn that George Harrison was set to star in the film, but pulled out when Jodorowky refused to drop a scene that would have involved a close-up of his anus. Any commentary that includes these statements is a winner: “I wanted to show homosexual positions, as seen through a microscope.” “I invented ear cocaine.” “It took me hours to get the monkey to place his hands like a Zen monk.” Get the picture? The Holy Mountain really is breathtaking. The only other film I can possibly compare it to is Dave, with Kevin Kline. -Adrian Mack Going to Pieces Dir: n/a Thinkfilm Going to Pieces is a documentary about the rise and fall of the slasher genre. One thing that I didn’t know about slasher fans is how similar they are to Star Trek nerds. They wear different clothes but they are just as lame. There is this one weird fat guy that gets interviewed while walking down a dark alley. He says some
interesting and insightful things about the impact that slasher films have had on society but I couldn’t stop looking at the stupid goatee on his fat face. This film is as an opportunity to listen while professionals discuss the high craft of scaring teenagers. That may sound drab but it is actually quite fascinating. These men think of slasher films as an exploration of the impulsive darkness of the human soul. A slasher film is a celebration of blood for the sake of blood. It is a channel into the animalistic killer instinct buried deep within our cold-blooded reptile brain. If you like the genre and you can put up with middleaged losers talking to a camera, this is a film for you. -Sam Kerr Hundra Dir: Matt Climber Subversive Cinema If you’re looking for an amazingly campy experience, look no further than Hundra. Billed as an “epic and erotic adventure of a female Conan,” Hundra is about an alpha female’s quest to rebuild her allfemale tribe after they’re all slaughtered by a bunch of men for no good reason. Probably becuase their very existence challenged norms in an unforgiving patricarchal society. Hundra can easily best 15
men at the same time but now she’ll face her toughest challenge ever, procreate with the men she so despises. See Hundra hated men even before they wiped out her clan. She prefers “the feel of a horse betwen my legs to those swine. And it pleasures me instead of pains me.” Hundra doesn’t have much luck finding a suitable mate, she tries to hook up with one guy but ends up kicking his ass. Then for no good reason, a midget on a pony attacks her and she kicks the crap out of him as well. It’s only until she talks to the film’s narrator, a senile old woman who is guarded by a couple of golden retrievers, that she ends up in a town where her prospects imporve. Hundra is like an inoffensive Ilsa movie. It’s highly quotable and hillarious. Perhaps the funniest thing is that the sexy female lead isn’t attractive, at all. Sadly, there are
Phantasm 3 takes place 15 years after the first movie and The Tall Man has taken out entire towns in middle America. So Reggie, the lovable ice cream man from the first Phantasm, takes a quadruple barrelled shotgun, hops in his ‘70 Hemicuda and goes to take him out. Much like the first, there’s out of this world gore and creature effects. Don Coscarelli really makes Christmas tree ornaments on fishing wire look amazing. The cornball acting is hillarious is highlighted by Reg’s lame attempts to have sex with Rocky, a Grace Jones lookalike with nunchucks. The bad acting won’t lessen your enjoyment though because this film doesn’t take itself seriously. The biggest shocker in the whole film is that it’s astonishingly coherent compared to the first one, which made no sense whatsover. In fact, if the original Phantasm wasn’t such an unfuckwithable classic, I’d say number three is better, BOYYYYY! -Michael Mann Sensitive New Age Killer Dir: Mark Savage Subversive Cinema High cinema should be held to a certain set of standards. To begin with, a hero should always carry multiple guns because it is impossible to shoot two people at once with only one gun. Next, the only circumstance in which a hero should ever run out of bullets is if he is involved in a Mexican standoff. Additionally, if the hero ever needs a grenade the audience should not be surprised when
no wizards or dragons in Hundra. All the money from this production likely went to pay for the amazing score provided by Ennio Morricone, which comes on a bonus CD. Pop that on your iPod and it’ll make even the most mundane trip to store seem like an epic quest to save the world. Great movie, great extras, stellar artwork. Sounds like the kind of DVD you should buy. -Michael Mann Phantasm 3: Lord of the Dead Dir: Don Coscarelli Anchor Bay Okay, last issue we told you about the insanity of the psychological sci-fi horror Phantasm. Get ready for number three now. Here’s what you need to know. There is an extremely tall man called the Tall Man (Angus Scrimm). His deal is he’s a corpse thief and a murderer. He does this so he can squish the corpses into midgets and send them to work as slaves
in another dimension. The Tall Man is protected by Sentinel Spheres which are flying metal balls that latch onto people’s heads. After they latch on, a drill comes out which burrows into the victim’s skull and a geyser of blood sprays across the room. Seeing this happen never gets boring. The Spheres are powered by the brains of all bodies he steals. “Bodies into drones. Minds into killers.”
he reaches into his shirt and retrieves one. The reason that you find it improbable for the hero to have a grenade in his shirt is because you are a not a hero. Heroes plan for these very situations and you don’t. Case closed. Based on the above criteria Sensitive New Age Killer is the perfect movie. Example of greatness, there is a scene where a guy goes Keith Richards and mixes the ashes of his dead mother with some blow before snorting it, crying uncontrollably all the while. Quote of the film, the hero’s mistress says, “That sounds fun, I’ve never done it with two guys before. Three or four, sure, but never two.” -Sam Kerr Slaughter Night aka SL8N8 Dir: Frank Van Geloven and Edwin Visser Tartan Video Neil Marshall’s The Descent taught us that survival horror in an underground setting can be extremely scary stuff. Slaughter Night delves into similar terirtory but instead of an underground cave with mutants we have a mining museum with the ghost of a serial killer, Andries Martiens. Martiens is a child killer from the 1860s with a penchant for black magic and human sacrfiice. He gets busted and is given two options: 1) spend your life in jail or 2) cover yourself in wet blankets, enter a goldmine to ignite a methane leak and pray that you live. Martiens
picks option two and is incinerated. But remember, black magic! The star of a survival horror is always the person who survives or is last to die. In Slaughter Night the star is Victoria Koblenko, a busty Dutch girl who doesn’t get her tits out. One hundred and forty years after Martien’s death she’s trapped in the mine where he perished with a bunch of her friends. Martien’s decides to make his move and tries to resurrect. but in order to do so, he’ll need to collect eight severed heads. The kids don’t make it very tough for Martiens as, after learning they’re trapped 200 feet underground, they do ecstacy, seperate into groups and play with an Ouija Board. Three things I would advise against doing if you ever get trapped underground. Slaughter Night serves up some okay scares and some great gore in a creepy setting. It’s not nearly as good as The Descent, but few horror movies are. -Michael Mann R.I.P. Bob Clark In the wee morning hours of April 4th, filmmaker Bob Clark and his 22 year-old son Ariel were killed by a drunk driver in Los Angeles. Bob was awesome, even though his output was wildly inconsistent, and sometimes terrible. He was a real working man’s director, jumping genres and styles on a whim. You’ll know him for A Christmas Story– the one that plays 24 hours straight every Christmas Day on TBS (royalties for which Clark was never paid)—and Porky’s, the raunchy teen-sex comedy that was Canada’s highest-grossing feature film for 24 freakin’ years. Porky’s II:The Next Day unwisely featured the Ku Klux Klan and lots of naked old men. It wasn’t funny. But before that, and what I love the most, Clark put together some seriously incredible ‘70s horror flicks, including the biting Fuck Vietnam paranoia of Deathdream and Deranged, an accurate and askew take on the Ed Gein story by Clark’s pal Alan Ormsby. Black Christmas is an honest to Christ masterpiece. It was the first ever North American slasher flick, and spooky as fuck. John Carpenter’s Halloween was originally conceived as a Black Christmas sequel. I had the chance to meet him in 2005 at the Cinemuerte Horror Film Festival. Bob was one of the nicest, most genuine, easy-going and wonderful dudes you’d ever hope to meet. He told hilarious stories about Porky’s – they hired a horse-cocked superstud for the dickthrough-the-shower-hole scene because the actor wasn’t long enough! – and joked about his own failings, referring to Rhinestone as “Rhineshit”. Class. Clark planned to helm a remake of his own very first feature, Children Shouldn’t Play with Dead Things, promising mayhem, hilarity, and the most outrageous penis joke ever. He was obviously excited to be working in the genre again. I guess that plan is kaput. Bob Clark was American, but worked in Canada on nearly every film. Hence, most of his movies get listed as ‘Canadian’, which makes me happy. I think it made Bob happy too. A swell guy. God bless Bob Clark. -David Bertrand
BOBCAT GOLDTHWAIT
No animals were actually harmed of pleasured in the makng of this film
Bobcat Goldthwait: Sleeping Dogs Lie By Michael Mann
Y
ou may not be aware but Bobcat Goldthwait, the guy with the funny voice from the Police Academy movies, doesn’t actually talk like that.You also may not be aware that he’s silently been chalking up an impressive list of director’s credits. Though some thought his 1992 directorial debut Shakes the Clown (aka the alcoholic clown movie) was career suicide, it had at least two fans. Martin Scorcese was one. Another was Jimmy Kimmel. Through that connection he got to directing Comedy Central mainstays like The Man Show and Chappelle’s Show as well as Windy City Heat, hands down the funniest made-for-TV movie you’ll ever see. After this came a two-year stint in the director’s chair at Jimmy Kimmel Live. Sleeping Dogs Lie marks Bobcat’s return to the big screen and it’s a hilarious low-budget romantic black comedy—or romblacom as they’re referred to as in critic’s circles. It’s your typical Guy (Bryce Johnson) wants to marry Girl (Melinda Page Hamilton) film. But before this happens, Guy wants to know Girl’s darkest secret. Girl reveals she gave a dog a blowjob in university and then it all goes to shit from there. Nerve: I’ve been reading some reviews of Sleeping Dogs Lie and a lot of articles dance around the subject matter. Is it supposed to have some sort of Crying Game like plot twist? Goldthwait: No, I think the reason people leave it out is because the movie is a hard sell. “Hey there’s a dog blowjob in the movie but it’s not that kind of movie. It’s an adult romantic comedy and it’s written and directed by the guy from Police Academy.” The audience that this movie is made for, if they heard anything about it, they wouldn’t go to it. I’m calling on behalf of a Canadian Rock mag so I think “dog blowjob movie” would appeal to them. It would appeal to them but then they’d be disappointed when it’s off camera. For some people they think that’s the joke. But to me it’s really not the joke. I’m not one of these guys that looks up bestiality online. I don’t find it erotic or fulfilling. I just needed something that was a huge thing that’d be really embarrassing that the family couldn’t get past. The character in the movie is the one that’s come to grips with it. I think if people thought I was doing a movie on bestiality, there’s not a lot in it.
There’s a movie about bestiality that screened at Sundance this year. The guy in Washington? Yeah, he died getting fucked by a horse or something. Did you open the door for that one? I hope so. This is some pretty taboo shit here. Can implied onscreen bestiality get you in trouble? Well, a little bit. When we were making it somebody got a hold of a script and called the Humane Society on us. They were threatening us. They were like “if she kisses that dog, that’s bestiality and you’re gonna get arrested.” It’s kind of funny because we shot that scene twice where she frenches the dog. The dog didn’t want to kiss her the second time. It was really weird. I was like “We’re gonna have to rub some ass on Melinda’s face to get the dog to lick her.
Melinda spits out of her mouth. Wow, you’re poking a lot of holes in my fine epic. I didn’t actually think that was semen until I saw it on screen and was like, “Wow, it looks like she’s spitting out a load.”
off. Is it difficult to market a dog blowjob film? A dog blowjob film by Bobcat Goldthwait? I’m not sure I’d go to it if I heard it like that.
Some other interesting facts about the male dog anatomy: Dogs actually have a bone in their penis. Wow.
I listened to the audio commentary on the DVD. Holy crap you got that? You’ve really got your shit together. We can’t even get a copy and I’m going on talk shows to hold up an empty box.
Yeah, and the dog’s penis has a barbed end. It’s like a fishing hook so the female dog can’t escape. Wow. [Laughs] So Melinda’s character should have been caught like a walleye or like a bass? There are two particularly hilarious jokes at the expense of free alt weeklies in the film. Where does that contempt come from? They get all the ad money in my city so by all means be as harsh as you like. Yeah, I make that joke about the liberal weeklies—which are very feminist—that make all their money through titty bar ads. I just find that kind of absurd. But it’s actually been those kind of weeklies that have supported the movie.
A dog blowjob film by Bobcat Goldthwait? I’m not sure I’d go to it if I heard it like that
I’m sure you get this a lot, but where does one get the idea to make a dog blowjob film? My stock answer is that my dog is really hot. But I really don’t know where. I was just trying to write this movie that’s self-destructive under the guise of doing the right thing.
The real shocker with this film is that actually, there’s nothing particularly gross or zany about this film. It’s actually a pretty sophisticated romantic comedy. Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna help your readers. Good point. Back to bestiality. I met a vet who filled me in on some facts about how dog’s react when they’re stimulated. Sure. He said there’s no way a dog would ejaculate the volume of semen that
I know you never thought this movie would ever even end up on DVD, but after the festival success of it, were you disappointed it didn’t get a wider theatrical release. No, I hope more people see the movie. I’ll be really happy if it gets on cable and if people rent the movie. But really my expectations were so low—not in a negative way. Sara, who is my girlfriend who produced said “hey, this is a good script, let’s make it.” We didn’t have any ideas of it doing anything anywhere. I never even hoped that it’d get into Sundance because I knew the likelihood of that happening was impossible. Truly. So all of this, honestly, has been one of the best jokes I’ve pulled
You specifically asked people to tell you if they listened to the commentary on your DVD. So this is me telling you I did. I’m really impressed. That’s crazy. So you’ve watched the movie twice. That’s a lot of work. Well I get paid nothing. But when a dog blowjob movie of this calibre comes out, I get behind it 100%. Oh man, well you’re the first. I was really nervous recording it... Is this your first audio commentary? No, I did one for One Crazy Summer with the director. I don’t like when I listen to the commentaries and there’s big long gaps. So I Just never shut up. I just babbled. In your commentary you say, you hope this movie makes up for your previous work. What do you mean by that? I think more as an actor, I’ve been in so many things I wouldn’t watch. And not that I’m above it. I’ve just done a lot of shit. Once I decided to not pursue “making it” my life has gotten so much easier. Are you through with standup? If I go out and do stand up, that means I’m broke. I mean maybe if it was fun and different. But I really don’t have much enthusiasm for hitting the boards and telling jokes. What are you working on now? I keep writing stuff, along the lines of Sleeping Dogs Lie where the writing actually makes me happy. I’m trucking along trying to see if I can get some movies made. But if they don’t get made, that’s fine with me versus getting it made in a way that I wasn’t happy with them. n
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LIVE REVIEWS alike. I feel a loss that Mike has climbed beyond the reach of us RHEOSTATICS mere mortals, but he plays the rock ‘n’ roll outlaw role better than anyone and I always enjoy the show. Instead of thinking about Social Distortion’s burgeoning popularity, it’s better when I just watch and listen. I also felt a strange sense of jealousy. After all, in ’82, there were only a few hundred of us who knew about Social D, and now everyone and their dog is in on the secret. Oh well, it was a good little run while it lasted. The Black Halos were in fine form, and played with an intensity that was startling even for them. Billy Hopeless was his usual flamboyant self, but managed to refrain from stripping down to his “manties.” It was nice not to cover my eyes for a change, and as a result I enjoyed the set more. I’ll admit that it was strange to see Jay Millette in the audience and another guy playing rhythm guitar, but I can’t fault the sound. The Halos have my respect for sticking to their guns and not following the trends. A tight set by an underappreciated and worthy band. As usual, I missed I Hate Kate, but going by the mainstream pop-punk songs on their MySpace page, I wouldn’t The Rheostatics have had many kind things to say anyway. Social Distortion / Black Halos / Massey Hall, Toronto, ON - Chris Walter Friday, March 30, 2007 I Hate Kate One of Canada’s best loved bands finally pulled The Commodore Ballroom,Vancouver, BC The Stooges the plug after almost three decades of tunes, tours, Tuesday, April 17, 2007 WaMu Theatre, Seattle, Wa. and the other marginal benefits of CanCon rock. Mike Ness and company ripped the place up on Friday, April 27, 2007 The Rheostatics often divided listeners with their Tuesday night, with a show nearly identical to the For all of Iggy Pop’s inexhaustible, sinewy energy, bookish approach to indie rock, but if you were one they played the last time they were here. Mike the high point of the Stooges show tonight was willing to stick it out, they were virtually peerless for used the same “Orange County” emblazoned probably the enthusiastic titflash from the girl with much of their storied career, and accordingly, they Gibson, wore the same garage mechanic shirt, and the fluorescent pink hair, invited onstage with a host drew an interesting crowd to their final show at the played the same songs I’ve been listening to for of other audience members during “Real Cool Time/ venerable Massey Hall: a curious mix of middle-aged decades. But that isn’t a bad thing, because if the No Fun.” She could dance like heck, and when she hipsters, college students, fanboys, and Puerto Ricans show was familiar, then the songs were like old pulled down her halter and shook’em, grinning, I (yeah, no kiddin’ on that last one). friends and I was happy to see them again. There felt vicarious joy and a tad jealous (since I ain’t got “Saskatchewan” kicked things off and from were a few new friends as well, including one called nothin’ to flash that an audience would welcome verse one, it was obviously that co-vocalist Martin “Far Behind” that has me looking forward to the seeing). Tielli was going to be in for a rough night. His voice next album, whenever that might be. Watching Mike Odd that the crowd was invited to mount the sounded absolutely ravaged due to some mystery on the stage, I was struck by how far he has come stage every night, though: ideally, like the titflash, ailment and the gawky falsettos than punctuate many since Social Distortion rolled through Winnipeg in these things are supposed to happen spontaneously. of his best songs were nowhere to be found. Luckily, 1982. Back then, he was just one of us, but now he Indeed, you got the feeling that every whoop, grunt, his source material was rock solid and Tielli did the has become a legend to many people. For instance, and stage dive (Ig did several) was worked out in best with what he had. an old guy with a faded Social Distortion tattoo on advance - I guess when you been doin’ this for 40+ Most would agree that the Rheostatics peaked his arm stood to my left, and two kids who were years, it’s hard to avoid thinking ahead. in the early 1990s and as such, their two key born before 1982 stood to my right. I realized then Alas, this means the band really should have recordings from the era (1991’s Melville and 1993’s that this is the key to Social Distortion’s success, known better than to pack the second half of the Whale Music) were reamed in full force. All told, over because they attract both the young and the old set with numbers from The Weirdness. By the first a dozen tracks from the two albums were played, encore, all of the Stooges’ classic tracks including such unheralded classics as “It” from the (do I need to enunciate ‘em?) were spent, former and “Shaved Head” from the latter. leaving us with relative clunkers like “She A couple of moldy oldies showed up mid-set SOCIAL DISTORTION Took My Money” and “I’m Fried.” “My Idea in the form of Don Kerr and Dave Clark (a.k.a. the of Fun” was really the only newer song Rheostatics’ first and second drummers). A true that worked worth a damn live, and that, oddity seeing three generations of pounders ontoo, happened quite early on. Apparently stage at once but Michael Phillip Wojewoda gladly they wrote something like 40 of these shared the spotlight with his two predecessors for things and then selected the best for the a neat-o version of “Northern Wish” that featured CD; yikes. Kerr on cello. Regardless, it was great seeing Mike Some fake snow fell from the ceiling during Watt transmuted into full Stooge, amply “When Winters Comes”, closing out the main set recognized by Iggy, who interacted more and setting the stage for a nine-song encore that with Watt than any of his fellow oldtimers. featured marathon versions of “Horses”, “Stolen Boilersuited and open-faced, hunched Car”, and “Dope Fiends and Booze Hounds”. And over his bass like it was a shotgun, Watt as the end drew closer and closers, fans rose from seemed more a full member of the band their seats, yelled a bit more and showed their loopy than the rather staid and inward Ron appreciate for these Canadian originals. Asheton, near-immobile in his camo off By the end, a couple of sweethearts three to the right. (Check Legs McNeil’s Please seats over were weeping like little, baby girls as Kill Me for the story of how Ron was Tielli carefully paced through an acoustic version of demoted from guitarist to bassist for “Record Body Count”, halfway up the centre aisle of Raw Power, if you’re not sure why none of Massey Hall, surrounded by friends and admirers and those songs were on the setlist). ending things on a bloody terrific high note. Between vicarious tits and vicariously - Cameron Gordon groovin’ on Watt’s experience, I seem to have experienced the whole show at The Haunted / Dark Tranquility a remove. After it was over, it still didn’t / Into Eternity / Scar Symmetry seem quite real. I saw the Stooges? Really? Croatian Cultural Center,Vancouver, BC - Allan MacInnis Monday, April 9, 2007 PHOTO: LEIGH RIGHTON
KLAXONS
Klaxons
LIVE PHOTO: JENN DODDS
Richard’s on Richards,Vancouver, BC Sunday, April 22, 2007 I suppose a review of anything Klaxons-related would be incomplete without some mention of new rave. So there, done. Despite some banging tracks dropped by local platter spinner and crowd warmer John Cougar, and a couple of lame chicks sporting glow-necklaces, there was nothing suggesting a return to the halcyon days of the rave era. Instead, Richard’s looked more like an Urban Outfitters bomb had dropped on it – exploding its neon sweatshirts and tight trousers all over the damn place. Not only that, but I think the dust from the Cambie Street construction must have caught a trade-wind into the downtown quarter as many health-conscious young men were wearing protective handkerchiefs around their necks (good thinking, goofballs!). Anyway, the band stumbled on stage right on time to a truncated version of “The Bouncer” which seamlessly led into the klaxondriven “Atlantis to Interzone.” This vibrant intro was just what this packed house needed, even if it was surprisingly alert for a Sunday night. Guitarist Simon Taylor was apparently on Saturday time, though. Downing multiple cups of red wine, he missed
a few intros and fell out of time more than once, but this buffoonery was never without its charms, especially played against bassist Jamie Reynolds gum-smacking whiff of “yeah, yeah, I’m playing the chunes, aren’t I? But, you know, I’d rather not be, d’you know whatta mean? You’re all out there, havin’ a laugh, muckin’ about, but I’m up ‘ere like a bloody monkey – don’t need it, do I?” The band touched on everything from its limited recorded output, making the best out of the brilliant “Golden Skans” and the hypnotizing “Magick.” Still, from a headlining act, we were given a set just over 45 minutes. And when the band left the stage, it became clear that they couldn’t have done an encore even if they had it in them. They just didn’t have the material to go on. The revved-up crowd waited and cajoled, pathetically watching the road crew disassemble the stage thinking that maybe, just maybe, this was a red herring for something great to follow. It wasn’t, the alarms had sounded. - Adam Simpkins
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LIVE REVIEWS MODEST MOUSE
at the world after three awful Dark Tranquility shit cocks (that means “bad songs” in myspeak). I just wanted some beer, an hour and a half of the Haunted, and maybe some underage loving from some random at the all ages show. In the end the night
PHOTO: JON BRAUN
DEERHUNTER
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typical fashion, twirling his guitar like a baton, catapulting it onto the stage, and singing into the pickups. Coupled with the band’s newly established modus operandi of catchy hooks and predictable, versechorus-verse musical templates, the performance proved how Modest Mouse has transformed from concocting revolutionary indie-rock masterpieces into blase, formulaic lullabies – some might say tragically. These indie-rock sell-outs, who rose from the dust of hard-done-by negativity, have become causalities of their own fortune and fame. - Samantha Laserson
Deerhunter / The Ponys
PHOTO: MEG BOURNE
Why can’t the Croatian Cultural Center serve beer anymore? WHY?! I saw Damageplan there a few years ago and I was double fisting harder than your mom and dad on their honeymoon. It was a good time and no animals were hurt during the making of my buzz. Keeping the booze away from me tonight forced me to go on the dreaded beer quest, so I found a place just across the street called The Portuguese Café that served Heineken for five dollars. The patrons (five of them) were watching some crazy Portuguese TV show that seemed to be about traditional Portuguese music and dance. It was incredibly awkward to sit there without laughing. They were clearly upset that I was interrupting their magical Portuguese variety hour program, and the contempt I endured when I ordered that Heineken was palpable. The waitress basically tossed the beer on the table without looking at me and continued watching four fat Portuguese guys dancing around, dressed like the Beatles on Ed Sullivan but with mustaches. For the first time in my life I didn’t leave a tip, and I vowed to never go to that place again (I guess that’s kind of like a tip). Too bad, because five bucks for Heineken is pretty good. After puckering up with a quick pitcher of watery Budweiser at some other random bar, I figured I’d wasted enough time. I was stoked because even though their last album sucked it hard, I still love the Haunted. When I finally entered the CCC – 90 minutes after the doors opened – they were already playing, and I’d missed two of their songs. FUCK! I was pissed and in a daze. They were playing so good, too. “Dark Intentions” going into “Bury Your Dead” was cock drooling sonic seduction, but it was over within 40 minutes (out of which I missed 10!) The biggest nut kicker was seeing Dark Tranquility climb onstage right after. When did Dark Tranquility turn into the headliner? I’m looking at the flyer I have for the show and it’s clearly THE HAUNTED in bold fucking letters (that usually means they’re the headliner). I left pissed off
was cold, I was thirsty, and the only women I saw were dragged in by their boyfriends. - Dave Von Bentley
Modest Mouse
PNE Forum,Vancouver, BC Monday, April 16, 2007 Taking place inside what frontman Isaac Brock christened the “big brick shoe box,” or “giant fucking dumpster” (aka the PNE forum), Seattle’s Modest Mouse celebrated the May release of its newest album We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank to a sold-out Vancouver crowd. For anyone who has been a Modest Mouse enthusiast since the days of Sad Sappy Sucker, when Brock was always belligerently drunk, playing 20 minute renditions of “Cowboy Dan”, chainsmoking and wailing into the mic, then April 15th would have been nothing short of a disappointment. Joined by musical mastermind and guitarist Johnny Marr (formerly of the Smiths, as if you didn’t know), who helped write and record We Were Dead…, the band appears to have developed a distinct acumen for successful pop-rock strategies, as exemplified by post O.C. hits like “Ocean Breathes Salty” and “Fire it Up”, which they burned through. The new track “Education” featured an accordion, and showcased how the band has crossed over from indie-art into indie-pop. The Mouse itself was tight, however a more thorough soundcheck might have prevented the shrieking feedback, which constantly drowned out the performance. Shrouded in a white spotlight, a rendition of “Bukowski” highlighted Marr’s musical majesty, playing with crisp reverb that sounded like liquid gold. Following an earthquake of anticipation from the audience, the Mouse’s encore ended with “Spitting Venom”, with a lengthy, euphonic interlude in the middle and Brock, in his
Richard’s on Richards,Vancouver, BC Wednesday, April 11, 2007 The ringing in my ears disappeared around 4 p.m. the next day, after a late start to Deerhunter’s show. Before the action began, I ran into vocalist Bradford Cox - who I interviewed in last month’s Nerve - outside of the venue. “Are you the guy that wrote the blog about us cancelling because I might die of malnutrition?” Cox asked, after I introduced myself. I couldn’t deny it. I also wrote that the 24-year-old looked like a seven-foot Stretch Armstrong with a heroin addiction. “That’s not funny,” Cox said assertively, in the voice of a helium abuser. “I’m supposed to die in two years.” I felt horrible, like I killed him already, and I asked four times if he was serious. “Of course I’m serious,” he replied. “I just said I was!” “Damn, well…” I mumbled, thinking of an apology. “I’m kidding, man,” Cox interjected, lightly punching my shoulder. I’m still not sure if he was; he performs like it’s his last days. With a light crowd sucked in by a bar TV showing the Canucks’ first playoff game, Deerhunter still filled half the dance floor, pounding out “Lake Somerset” to kick things off. Cox got a little crazy during “White Ink”, stripping down to a cheap wedding dress and perching himself on stage equipment in different Karate Kid-type crane stances while sucking and huffing into his microphone like it was a sex toy. All of this to catcalls and decent applause during the breaks between the quintet’s wall of delay effects, hypnotic bass lines, springy guitars, and pure electrodelic noise. The postponed start combined with a draining opening act meant that a tired crowd stumbled closer to the stage for the Ponys’ less outlandish performance. The quartet did well, playing new material from Turn the Lights Out and mixing in a few older songs. Headman Jered Gummere had tremendous energy, bouncing around like a younger, taller, blonder Neil Young, with the guitar licks and checkered plaid shirt to match. But the Ponys don’t need much more approval. As for Deerhunter, they’re here to stay, as long as Cox is still breathing. - Jon Braun
floor was full of people and smoke, photography all over the walls. There were film screenings early in the night – sucks that I missed it - though a little corner of B&W film weirdness played continually above our heads. A lil’ hut sold booze in the back. DJ and a dance floor. Alright! And downstairs, in a dungeon lovingly strung with Christmas lights, the bands. No security. No tension. No legalities. Friendly, friendly vibe. I missed Sir Bison – not to be confused with plain ol’ Bison (elsewhere in this issue) – but caught Vancougar. Girly rock-pop isn’t for me, really, but in the moment it all seemed so simple and fun, and I liked it. I like girls. Only caught the end, though. There were bass problems too. Sound cutting out, Becca got electrocuted (twice). Fun. Hung Jury: Adrian Mack turned me on to Malcolm’s knack for channeling a lil’ Roky Erickson when he lets ‘er rip, but tonight it was Jury’s groovy groove grooves that struck me. Solid rock’n’rule, yessir. Hung Jury milks the most loinhugging repetitive rhythmic body-stone anti-riffs since Comets on Fire, when they wanna. They’re also good at hanging cigarettes from their lips. Not quite Slash good, but pretty freakin’ good. Sun Arise played a very stoned Man’s Ruin desert noodle as fronted by PJ Harvey (Jen from the Cinch). By this point, there was a weird, borderline disorientating contrast between the stoned-out riff swayers downstairs, and the party people upstairs boogieing to “Everyday People”. Really wonderful though. I also saw – briefly – a gal rip shit up on violin in a ‘duet’ with the DJ. Was that possibly Kytami, infamous violinist extremist? Very freaky. When approached for comment, the organizer took a giant multi-paragraph shit about my “lack of professionalism” for reviewing this show and not upholding his code of secrecy. Uptight douche. But it was the lack of intoxication that really got to me. I bailed. Went to the pub. - Dave Bertrand
Trans Am / Zombi
Richard’s On Richards,Vancouver, BC Tuesday, April 24, 2007 I’m no Rush fan, but if I was, I’d have loved the band Zombi, a Pittsburgh twosome that opened for Trans Am tonight. As the competent prog-rock group sped through its set, I got the feeling I was listening to 12 different cover versions of the 1981 Rush instrumental “YYZ”. I will leave it up to the reader to decide whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I am a Trans Am fan, and the people shelling out a pretty penny for these perennial favourites got a good show from three men who played like they were jamming in Mom’s basement after school - and dressed as if they were, to boot. TA’s bass player, Nathan Means, resembles Steve Nash with his Phoenix Suns haircut right down to the tear-away pants. The novelty of stepping on a pedal, speaking into a microphone, and making your voice sound like a robot never wears off. Trans Am is the punk rock Kraftwerk, and again, I’ll leave it to you to decide whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing. - Kliph Nesteroff
LIVE Sun Arise / Hung Jury / Vancouger/ Sir Bison / a DJ with a violinist
Cobra Commander’s Secret Laboratory on Mystery Island, BC Saturday, April 14th, 2007 Maybe it’s cause I’ve been reading The Inside History of the Grateful Dead for the last four months, but when I got the email - “Downtown Eastside Warehouse Psychedelic Concert” - I honestly expected a communal garbage pail of dosed Kool-Aid. No dice. And that’s fine. I enjoy liquor. However, slight problem... the well was dry by 1:00am! And I was only two beers in. TERROR! The scene, though, was killer. Main
A Ghost to Kill Again / Karen Foster / Bend Sinister
Waldorf Hotel,Vancouver, BC Friday, April 6, 2007 Every once in awhile the modern definition of indie moves beyond the current clichés of white belts, Gerard Way-esque sideswept bangs, and uninspired, sub-amateurish god-awful
LIVE REVIEWS can usually stomach the cheapest piss. I HUNG even sucked down six cans of Alberta Genuine Draft prior to the Roxy Burger, but Russell’s kicked my cock in the dirt and gave me an infection afterwards. Not exactly how I wanted my concert experience to start. Inside the Commodore, I found myself surrounded by twits, dicks, and sad chicks, the air misty with the tears of cheerless and misunderstood boys and girls and their quaking bottom lips. rim-job, flaccid-cock openers Attack in Black just added to the misery, playing that big, open chord bullshit to sloppy mediocrity. I nearly fell asleep (no joke). They must have played for well over an hour. I wasn’t happy. And the next buttfucking shit dicks to play were Moneen, which made things worse. I don’t like them, and after an hour and half of their live effort, I dislike them even more. I think they covered an Alexisonfire song, but I wouldn’t bet my life on that, since these cocktwats forced me and my comrades to move to the balcony at the very back. I did this to avoid punching people in the face for apparently actually enjoying Moneen’s musical equivalent to the sensitive enema. Moneen? How about Noneen… Ha ha, get it? (I suck). Is it immature to crowd surf? When Sparta came on I was standing around looking at these emo kids, on the verge of tears and wondering, ‘what the fuck is going on?’ These tampon dispensers appeared to be into the band, the music, and the atmosphere, but all they did was sway from side to side. Is this the emo version of the headbang or gobbing? I decided to bring a bit of the traditional rock ‘n’ roll to the picture, so I made my way to the front of the crowd, got up, and was molested in full view of everyone at the concert. That’s what rock is: uncomfortable molestation, right? These guys never got that picture, and I ended up being the only one to surf the bi-curious hands of the Commodore that night. Oh well. Anyways, Sparta was great. They were just here in November, but this time played a few more songs from the last release, Threes.Vocalist-guitarist Jim Ward had the flu, but thankfully persevered through the liquid shits and sounded great anyway. I wish they’d played my favourite song “Tensioning” (It felt like seeing Skynyrd and not hearing “Freebird”) but they did it at the last show, so who am I to complain? Bad Beer, sad cheers, and at some points I wish I couldn’t hear. But thanks to the money shot that was Sparta, I left feeling satisfied, knowing I suffered through some of the worst to experience some of the best. - Dave Von Bentley
JURY
PHOTO: JACKIE DIVES
racket on untuned instruments being fobbed off as post-Velvets “sonic art.” Sometimes you can be “indie” and still wield your instruments the way samurai wielded katanas, with the resultant songwriting lightning being powerful enough to jumpstart a Candu reactor. Case in point was the wonderful CD release party for A Ghost to Kill Again, featuring a slew of Vancouver’s rising shiners of latter-day progressive rock. First off, Karen Foster never fails to disappoint. This magazine has long lauded the jaw-dropping guitar prowess of Chad MacQuarrie - the only guitarist who can make a Fender Telecaster clang and snarl. Plus, no one’s carotid arteries bulge more fiercely. MacQuarrie’s loyal percussive-concussive sidekick Jason Dana, meanwhile, explained to everyone what thunderous, tasteful drumming was all about. This was the first KF set I’ve seen with new bassist Masa; although Bryan McCallum was more precision and metallic, Masa’s slippery, melodic grooves weren’t slouchy, either. Karen Foster’s abrasively explosive music is reminiscent of a more hardcore-punk take on Drive Like Jehu, and hopefully they’ll be remembered as one of Vancouver’s better bands. The night was alive for A Ghost to Kill Again, who treated the audience to its all-time best performance, ever. AGTKA is like a modern nod to Discipline-era King Crimson, with the hammering dissonance of a twin seesaw guitar assault. Quintessential drumming engine Sam Cartwright (Lotusland’s Terry Bozzio) makes 11/8 and 5/4 time signatures seem effortless, as if a slobbering-drunk Paul Cook could hamfist his way through AGTKA’s thrillingly complex arrangements – pulsed along by the Tony Levin / Geddy Lee bass attack of handsome, mustachioed Cory Curtis aka the 21st Century’s Robert Redford. Bend Sinister, representing the Strathcona underground-rock community with the token bushy beard of vocalist-keyboardist Dan Moxon, mercilessly finished off the evening’s survivors with a killer set of its unique ‘70s-tinged pomp-rock songs. Bend Sinister remind us that quite a lot of the pop/rock music written, composed, recorded, and performed during the pre-punk 1970s actually had more brains and chops than Joey Ramone would have us believe, and Bend Sinister is one of the talented modern Vancouver bands who demonstrate what the mainstream path of modern pop/rock music might have been had the music-industry suits not been so universally skullfucked. Every Bend Sinister set is almost as if one attunes themselves vibrationally to a parallel universe, and I would love to live there forever. Too bad the set was only 45 minutes long. Is that abstract or reverent? Possibly both. One hopes that Bend Sinister has at least five albums left in it, and there’d better not be any lineup changes in the meantime. Dan Moxon, Jon Bunyan, Naben Ruthnum, Dave Buck, and Mike Magnussen mean business, even if none of them are really mean. What’s left to say? If you have to read this, you obviously missed it. And my heart aches for you. - Ferdy Belland
a result, I will always love and support them and I will fight anyone who talks ill of them. This was an evening of revisiting my past with old friends who coincidentally happened to be in town from NB. And what better place to do so than at the Cambie. After talking about Airwalk Ones and 411VM, we booted’er right along down the Christless road, doing very best (NB slang for “went somewhere”). I missed the Jolts, but I hate them, like everyone who is over 30 does of the young. They’re good though. I did manage to catch Married to Music’s last song, and it was also good. I thought the lead singer was a cute girl, which is even better. When Nomeansno came on stage, I was taken back to my youth, hanging at the Farmers Market, which is where they used to play. They blasted a bunch of new songs but, more importantly, they destroyed the crowd with the old stuff. It was impeccable. I have to say, the guys are looking rather old and Rob Wright was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, but when they did two encores and ended their set with the song “Small Parts Isolated and Destroyed”, it made up for the fashion faux pas. When the band screamed, “What about me, what about me, can I get in for free?” I couldn’t help but think about those days when I eagerly awaited Nomeansno’s answer to that question, which was always an unequivocal “yes”. - Waltergeist
The Manvils / Snakeskin Cowboys / the Hits
Richards on Richards,Vancouver, BC Wednesday, March 24, 2007 Holy shit, rock is alive and well in Vancouver! The night started with a dynamic trio appropriately named the Hits, and the only thing tighter than this band’s Springsteen-esque, stone-washed tighty jeans was their set; balls-to-thewall, blow your fucking face off, rock ‘n’ roll. This is a band to look out for and they quite nearly, if not completely stole the limelight. Next up was Snakeskin Cowboys, which, with their wall of guitars, combine the brilliance of two great local bands, Chinatown and John Ford. The estimated 10% permanent hearing loss was definitely worth it. The Manvils finally took the stage, and herein the magic began. Lead singer Mikey Manville is the perfect front man, balancing true ability and the requisite undulating mass of loin quiveration. This night was the kickoff of their North American tour, and if the show was any indication, it will not be long until the masses are flocking to their sold-out gigs. With tight phrasing, great lyrics (and obvious preparation) this band takes their rock seriously, but not so much as
to make them insufferable.Vancouver’s rock scene has been sparse in the last years. I chalk it up to what I call Nickelshock – the malaise surrounding the knowledge that only poser, fucking loser bands with zero talent make the grade with record/distribution companies in Canada. If this night was any indication though, the tide is shifting, and the truly talented are once again rising. - Gloria Hole
Toots and the Maytals / Jah Cutta
The Commodore Ballroom,Vancouver, BC Wednesday, May 18, 2007 After Jah Cutta and the Determination Band’s energetic performance, which was sadly let down by some fairly run of the mill material, the Maytals took the stage. Starting with a brief instrumental, one of the female backing singers stepped up for lead vocals on a song that came across like a bad Tina Turner rip off. It was an odd way to begin the set and would probably have been more appropriate somewhere in the middle of the show. Toots himself seemed a bit shaky when he eventually ambled on stage for the classic “Pressure Drop”. It got me worried that the show might end up with a James Brown final-tour feel, when the hardest working man in show business spent half the time off stage. To be fair, Toots is in his 60s, and gets into the swing of it anyway after a few songs. Remarkably, the one thing that isn’t slowing down on the old stoner is his voice; it’s still absolutely amazing and he belts out those tunes like he was still in his 20s. You’d also think that a beast as legendary as the Maytals would be able to afford a decent brass section - as with Jah Cutta – but instead they rely on synthesizers to produce all of the horn parts, and it’s a drag, frankly. They also struggle to maintain momentum through some dreary ballads including “Take Me Home Country Roads”, but come out swinging on storming renditions of “Funky Kingston” and an encore of “5446 Was My Number”, both of which redeemed everything (not including the excruciating sight of middle-aged white people and stoned hippies attempting to dance to reggae). - Will Pedley
as a pre-game venue anyhow. We got to the Plaza just in time for Ladyhawk. Not sure what is happening with those guys, but the show kinda lacked energy and even Duffy’s wailing couldn’t stop me from wandering around, smoking cigarettes and waiting for Jon Rae. When Jon Rae came on I was just about ready to scream. Myself and many others have been inspired to start bands after seeing any one of the Rivers’ legendary Silvertone Tavern shows. But tonight the band kinda lacked energy and even Jon’s wailing couldn’t stop me from wandering around, smoking cigarettes and waiting for the Constantines. By this time I was starting to get a bit drunk and my date was really drunk, causing a series of issues and speaking Persian to an obviously non-Persian door guy. I shuffled her into a cab and got ready to see a great show. Which I did. The End. Oh wait, the Constantines, who will be touring with the Tragically Hip next year, took the stage and changed the night from mediocre to super grand. They were tight and as punk as you could get without being a punk band. And they travel with their own sound guy who shared his wild turkey with me and Johnny Stewart. Thank you for helping me black out. After the show, a girl confronted me and my friend Matt (from the Solution) and said that we played an excellent show and demanded autographs. We said that she was mistaken and she screamed, “Thanks for treating your fans that way,” and stormed off. So at least we cost Ladyhawk a few fans. Sorry guys. I also sprained my thumb dancing to Kim Mitchell’s “Easy to Tame”, and didn’t get beat up. - Waltergeist
Last Plague
Pub 340,Vancouver BC Saturday, April 21, 2007 I entered Pub 340 at 10:30pm assuming it would be late enough to skip the pop acts. Instead I arrived midway through the first band, and I tried to watch the end of the set during commercial breaks, but Casablanca was on television. The second band got me looking at the stage, however. Cortez the Killer. And we are not talking about a Neil Young cover. These hardcores got my heart racing and eager to feast on the rest of their set. This is an upcoming band definitely worth checking out. At the end of Broadway Calls, I knew that all the Avrils in the audience sporting their new outfits from Le Chateau were in love. These boys have mastered the anthem song, and got the audience singing along to the point of stealing the mic. There was lots of bouncing, and careful crowd surfing that looked almost contrived. Broadway Calls was borderline cheesy, but entertaining. Then there was Living with Lions. I thought Lions roared, not meowed. Finally playtime was over and Last Plague started setting up. Too bad that a good portion of the audience was actually there for BC and LL. Didn’t they realize, as they filed out, that this next set could have been the first band of their new lives!? Despite playing to a crowd reduced from 30 people to 15, Last Plague put on an exceptional performance, displaying all the energy of a sold out show.Vocalist Heath Fenton led the non-stop blast of raw hardcore metal. Each member owned their instrument, combining to create a tight solid boom of music, shaking the walls of Pub 340. Heath made several leaps in to the audience, instigating some ritualistic head banging, his powerful voice sending chills down my spine. The band lived each chord, and you could taste their conviction. Last Plague is the real deal, and there is nothing gentle about that. - Christina Paris
REVIEWS
Sparta / Moneen / Attack in Black
The Commodore Ballroom,Vancouver, BC Friday, March 30, 2007 What the fuck is in Russell Lager? Old man cum with a dash of angry mule spit? The reason I ask is that before the show, me and a couple of friends went to Roxy Burger on Granville (not my choice, but majority rules), and the beer on special at that dump was the dreaded Russell Lager. I felt sick to my stomach after one pint of Russell’s vile poison, and I
Nomeansno / Married To Music / The Jolts
The Red Room,Vancouver, BC Wednesday, April 4, 2007 When I was a child living in New Brunswick, going to see a rock show was as rare as Kenny’s acid not being laced with rat poison. We would all line up hours before the show just to help the bands load in and sometimes (most times) beg the band to let us in for free. Nomeansno was one of the only bands to travel all the way to NB and as
The Constantines / Joe Rae and the River / Ladyhawk
The Plaza,Vancouver, BC Thursday, April 12, 2007 The night started out rough with a shitty waitress at El Furniture Warehouse, but that’s okay. The Morrissey is way better
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ALBUM REVIEWS Aa gAme Gigantic Music When an album is listed under ‘experimental noise’ it doesn’t always jump to the top of the listening pile, I find. In fact, such plays usually end up sounding like a headache on CD. However, Thurston Moore has gone on record as finding Brooklyn’s Aa (pronounced Big A little a) most pleasing, and so with a couple of Advil in hand, I’m prepared to give it a go. Boasting three drummers (all playing at the same time, not coming and going a la Spinal Tap) a lot of shouting and some really weird noises, Aa has produced a truly original sound: kind of tribal yet art punky without being pretentious. The heavy drumming beats are put to excellent use, creating an energetic urgency that is both atmospheric and a tad unnerving, especially on the frenetic track “Manshake”. Perhaps a few too many weirdy samples appear, making it sometimes sound like a BBC sound effects sampler, but overall, this is a real breath of fresh air. - Stephanie Heney The Academy Is… Santi Warner This is the second full length release from Chicago’s The Academy Is… whose debut album Almost Here, garnered staggering word of mouth success by way of their relentless touring alongside pop punk acts on the Vans Warped Tour. It must take a certain amount of bravery, when a band that cites influences such as the Clash and Smashing Pumpkins, finally admit that what they really want to play is good pop songs. Sure there’ll be guitars, but the songs are bubblegum enough to appear on the new Avril Lavigne album. TAI certainly look like rockers: skinny leg pants – check, Keith Richards haircuts – check, New York Dolls posturing with waistlines to match – check. However, pretentions to the wind, what they’ve made on Santi is really upbeat, catchy guitar pop with swoony vocals, well produced (by Butch Walker of All American Rejects and Hot Hot Heat fame) and chartward bound. - Stephanie Heney Antibalas Security Anti-/Epitaph There ain’t many bands like this still kicking around. Brooklyn’s lauded Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra (shortened for this release) is one
of the last great American funk fusion bands, a species that has been endangered since Lionel Richie quit the Commodores. Their fourth album and first for Epitaph again pools the finer aspects of jazz, latin, reggae, soul, classic funk, and afrobeat into a late ‘60s Santana free-for-all but with more of a political message than previously explored. So, while easily portraying a timeless (post-JFK) sheen, Security is as vibrant and relevant as anything else going on in the world today (except for Fido, natch). Someday, far in the future, people will be discussing this album as a true diamond classic. Mark my words, this shit has staying power. - filmore mescalito holmes
Black Sabbath The Dio Years Rhino After eight brilliant albums in the ‘70s, Sabbath parted ways with a coked up Ozzy and replaced him with a guy who read Lord of the Rings one too many times. That man’s name is Ronnie James Dio. Some prefer the Dio years to the Ozzy era, but when you get down to the nitty gritty, it’s just a whole new band. Ozzy was a fuck twat when it came to writing, so the brilliant Geezer Butler crafted Sabbath’s lyrics with little or no credit. Dio took over
this role and if you can get past his tendency to go on about mythical creatures, there are plenty of solid tunes to admire. Toni Iommi’s riffs and Geezer’s bass playing alone are worth the price of admission. The Dio Years offers16 tracks (80 minutes) spanning three studio albums, one live record and three new songs. In fact this is basically the reconstituted band’s live set on record, all remastered and sounding better than ever. The three new songs aren’t exactly that great, but it’s nice to hear them try. Sadly, the best Dio-era song was left off (“Sign of the Southern Cross”) even though it’s part of the Heaven and Hell roadshow. I think it would’ve been better to just remaster the individual albums, but The Dio Years is still worth picking up. - David Von Bentley The Book of Knots Traineater AntiOn the first track, “View from the Watertower,” the great Carla Bozulich channels a hysteric/ p.o’d Radio Ethiopia-era Patti Smith over operatic thud and clang that I guess could be likened to Swans circa Great Annihilator (but with more discordant texture and mebbe a pinch more rusted metal flying around); it kicks epic ass, and the Book of Knots (comprised of members and ex-of Sleepytime Gorilla Museum, Pere Ubu, and etc) have my complete attention. Then the second track starts, quirky/spidery artrock that I dig BUT it bears utterly no resemblance to the first! The overall effect is of watching a movie where you’re never sure exactly what’s going to happen next. Tom Waits (“Pray”) and Mike Watt (“Pedro to Cleveland”) appear and don’t really sound like themselves, suborned to the Book of Knots’ weird, eclectic vision; I like the heavier, louder tracks the most (“Third Generation Pink Slip”) – they have a really horrifying quality that I groove on. - Allan MacInnis The Blankket Be Your Own Boss Recording Club All this is, to be brief, is four covers of classic Bruce Springsteen songs crudely recorded by some city kid from Toronto who just happens to be in every hip local band.Yeah, we got the memo a while back as well, and agree wholeheartedly that the Boss is pretty awesome. I also heard that Brandon Flowers and the Arcade Fire are pretty into him too, and probably every other twenty-something that is just now finally getting around to checking out Nebraska. So, what-ever, is my only real comment regarding this forgettable recording. The Blankket could have at least picked songs with a touch more obscurity (“Dancing in the Dark,” and “Thunder Road” – come on, dude) or tried sounding less like Calvin Johnson. Be Your Own Boss should have stayed in Your Own Damn Home (Face!). - Adam Simpkins
self-pitying schlop. In fact, by avoiding extremes, the songs here have the potential to take on whatever mood the listener wants out of them. The musical arrangements are understated, yet still adventurous, and Bryson’s vocals are gentle, yet strained. Where the Bungalows Roam has an introspective, remedial quality to it. It would serve just as good as a prescription for a chronic case of bad luck as it would a soundtrack for reflection on a particularly good day. - Devon Cody
his illustrious status. Now, less than two years later, we’re faced with his worldwide debut as a producer. Naturally, producing ain’t the same as mixing, so there is a learning curve demonstrated here. While the mash of DnB, dancehall, and hip-hop is standard Zen fare, the songs on Enter aren’t nearly as tight as his sets, but the man is obviously very talented and worthy of our patience. I’m sure this decent album is but a stepping-stone on the road to something classic. - filmore mescalito holmes
Ellen Cherry Years Independent The problem with reviewing modern folk music is that the music itself is often very basic and mostly unremarkable. It’s the lyrics wherein lies the appeal. This means you have to actually really listen to the album… multiple times… even when it’s really not that good… just in case something commendable skirts past your eardrums. Years is a concept album borne of Cherry’s self-induced challenge to write an entire record in the span of one month. She decided that each song was to be from the perspective of a woman living in a certain year. The song titles serve as examples: “1864: A Civil War Bride”, about a woman who loses her husband in the war; “1893: A Girl at the World’s Fair”, about a woman’s disappearance at the hands of a serial killer at the Chicago Columbian Exposition; and so it continues, chronologically, until “1976: Buffalo Girls Don’t Worry About Fashion”. Interesting concept? Yes. Interesting lyrics? Meh. Interesting music? No. Would I buy this album? Definitely not. Maybe if I had a vagina… - Devon Cody
The Death of a Party The Rise and Fall of Scarlet City Double Negative I think we’ve heard just about enough from these gloomy post-punk-jagged-guitar bands: kids employing the theatrical Blood Brothersesque vocals with plenty of macabre material lifted from the libraries of the Cure and Gang of Four. It really gets tiring. And I’m so, so tired. The Death of a Party itself can’t entirely be blamed for my fatigue, they’ve just come around at the wrong time. I’ve heard this album for the past five years and from dozens of bands. Perhaps I’m speaking for myself, but can any experienced connoisseur du musique truly get excited by upcoming bands like this? To their credit, DOAP’s live show is apparently impressive, but that energy doesn’t come across in these rather dull tracks. Let’s push things forward, please. - Adam Simpkins
Citizen Fish/Leftover Crack Deadline Fat Wreck Chords Why did they call this split CD Deadline? Did Fat Mike tell both bands they had two weeks to come up with a handful of songs or they were off the label? If so, the bands in question did fairly well and since this is the sort of punk rock that I dig, I hastily downloaded the CD into my computer. Drop me an e-mail; I’ll be selling pirated versions of Deadline for five bucks a pop. Sorry, Mike, my rent is due soon and the high stakes world of rock ‘n’ roll journalism is a mean and vicious game. - Chris Walter City and Colour Live Dine Alone This is the kind of music I’d listen to if I was feeling incredibly single and lame. Dallas Green takes us on a gruelling journey across a landscape of foreboding, romantic balladry with this recording of a live performance for
BBC. The album begins with a crowd, mostly female, complete with audible “I love yous!” Every track is painfully predictable, consisting of a series of minor chords, various plucking patterns, and a few chilling harmonics spliced in for good measure. His voice is gentle and emotional, and each track seems to be thematically premised around various collegerock love testimonies, which undoubtedly make the ladies swoon. Essentially, he’s another John Mayer. In his track “Sometimes (I wish)” Green asks, “If I was a simple man / would we still walk hand in hand,” demonstrating how he has become a victim of his own bullshit. - Samantha Laserson
Names Jamie is instantly catchy and clever, with energetic songs that get stuck in your head and give you the fever. The Clorox Girls have been around longer, but with their pop sensibilities and smart arrangements they remind me of the Briefs. In fact, I’ll bet you a gazillion dollars that Jeffie Genetic will be spinning this on the turntable the next time you go to the club. Get yer dancin’ shoes, because the party is on. - Chris Walter Clutch From Beale Street to Oblivion DRT Entertainment The guys in Clutch aren’t known for their consistency. They’ve managed to shit the bed more frequently than you’d think when you’re listening to the better songs in their catalogue (“Spacegrass”, “Pure Rock Fury”.) Indeed, when they’re on, they’re on and when they’re off they can be as awkward as suburban white rappers (see: “Careful With That Mic”.) If anything is consistent in the world of Clutch, it’s that every five years or so, the band releases an album that is actually worth buying. From Beale Street To Oblivion is one of ‘em. Clutch has always taken groove-heavy blues riffs, fattened them up and cranked the volume, but From Beale Street… is a little less heavy than earlier albums. Instead it remains a little truer to the blues. A prime example is “One Eyed Dollar”. I actually wondered if it was a cover of an R.L. Burnside song when I first heard it. Stoner rock this is not. There’s a lot of groove here to get your ass shakin’, ‘though it might be better done with a belly full of bourbon rather than a head full of dope. - Devon Cody CocoRosie The Adventures of Ghosthorse and Stillborn Touch & Go CocoRosie’s new album journeys through a fabled land of black magic wielders, fearless werewolves and mythical rainbow warriors,
and it’s a trip that’s as frustrating as it is rewarding. Through shaky narratives, off-putting imagery and some noticeably crude lyrics, the sister act pulls together a tough album to swallow. Lines about staining sheets, lactating on tongues and sucking genitalia are littered amongst mythical images (often of an animal nature), leading to some serious confusion as to what these ladies are actually on about. However, on the more musical side of things, the record is quite impressive. With the help of Valgeir Sigurdsson, Björk’s main studio man, CocoRosie orchestrates the adventure through an inventive array of trip-hop beats, plucked harps and electronic tinkering, making the album come off sweet, soulful and surprisingly listenable.Yes, The Adventures is eccentric, very eccentric, but, if you can stomach it, can also be an entertaining and addictive voyage. - Brock Thiessen
Dew Scented Incinerate Nuclear Blast When I think of this German metal band’s name, the image of some fat kraut’s exposed sweaty ball sac peeking through his lederhosen fills my mind (the sweat on his balls being the ‘Dew’, and the smell emanating from that hairless cum sac being the ‘Scented’). In reality, Dew Scented is actually a half decent thrash band, which sounds like the secret love child of Slayer and Morbid Angel. Pretty good rhythm guitars, Kerry King-esque solos and the guttural yelping of a manic Teuton all mashed together for your listening enjoyment. Having been together since 1992, these veterans of the metal scene haven’t exactly made huge strides from their previous works, but the blast beats, mixes, and vocal effects have all been improved. - David Von Bentley Dinosaur Jr. Beyond Fat Possum After Lou Barlow was kicked out of Dinosaur Jr. in 1989, it may have seemed disheartening at the time, but everything ended up working
out for the best. Sebadoh began a successful career with a string of solid records, while the remaining members of DJ followed suit with a couple of great albums, and a couple of forgettable ones too. So, the question remains: what’s with the reunion almost 20 years later? Nostalgia, money, nothing else to do - those would all be adequate reasons. Beyond, the first album released by the reunited Dinosaurs sounds like it should: noisy, J Mascis’ token lackadaisical vocals, huge solos, and stinking like the early ‘90s (patchouli and the food stands at Lollapalooza). In other words, the band sounds like it always has – or at least how mastermind Mascis has always sounded – which is neither a fantastic nor terrible thing. It’s classic Dinosaur Jr., what else did you expect? - Adam Simpkins
REVIEWS
Big D and the Kids Table Strictly Rude Side One Dummy Like cowboy boots, digital pets, and Pogs, skapunk was a fad that lasted a total of about three days, quickly tiring both itself and its five listeners out with the same riffs and predictable horn interludes warmed over ad nauseum. Strictly Rude is a futile attempt to revive this long-gone musical era, with a Rancid/Reel Big Fish sound only a few years too late. With songs like “Try Out Your Voice”, a track about political activism, or the dubreggae angled “Relocate the Beat”, Big D and the Kids Table demonstrate their ability to run the gamut of fake Caribbean moves, with, to their credit, some pretty tasty basslines. - Samantha Laserson
Jim Bryson Where the Bungalows Roam Kelp Where the Bungalows Roam has the softspoken, slightly neurotic feeling and sound of an Eels record. Indeed, with this album, Ottawa’s Jim Bryson proves he could well be Canada’s answer to Mark Everett, aka “E”. Much like Eels, Byson’s music takes a little bit to warm up to. Party music it isn’t, nor is it
Clorox Girls J’aime Les Filles BYO Hey, I’m no Frenchy, but I know that “filles” means “girls,” so I’m guessing that this CD is about a girl named Jamie. And you know what else? I don’t think the Clorox Girls are actually girls after all; I mean there are three guys on the cover! Another thing, I don’t think the Clorox Girls are French, either. Luckily, I’m ready to forgive them their lies because A Girl
DJ Kentaro Enter Ninja Tune I’ve really been looking forward to this album. Japan’s DJ Kentaro is a former DMC champ and legend in his own time. His drum and bass and agro hip-hop heavy debut release and addition to the signature Ninja Tune mix series On The Wheels Of Solid Steel only cemented
Disrupt Unrest and The Rest Relapse Crust doesn’t float my boat, never did. Take legendary Boston crust-hardcore kings Disrupt for instance. Described as “the most powerful punk-inspired hardcore ever recorded”, Disrupt just sound like two cats fucking in a garbage can at midnight. Personal tastes aside, I’ve seen Disrupt patches on crusties and punk rockers
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ALBUM REVIEWS for decades so I’m not about to weigh in on a genre I know little about and can’t understand. Instead of saying too much dumb shit, I decided to see what my MySpace friends though of Disrupt, and wasn’t surprised to learn that they had many hardcore fans. I listened to this lengthy three-D affair until my ears started to bleed and then I gave them - promo sheet and all - to Lenny from Massgrave. He was going on tour the next day, and I know that they’ll play those CDs until they’re thin enough to see through. You see, even though crust isn’t my thing, I just can’t bring myself to give any type of fast, angry music a bad review. Nossir, I can’t do it. - Chris Walter EARTH Hibernaculum Southern Lord Formed in 1990, the Dylan Carlson led collective oozed out into the scene amongst the pioneering lead of the Melvins and the flourishing wall of noise popping out of the Seattle grunge movement, quickly gaining recognition as the epicenter of the burgeoning drone genre. Though Carlson remains the constant, the current incarnation of the band with drummer Adrienne Davies has a few different ideas about composition compared to the pioneering days. The dense feedback and distortion has been peeled away, like 2005’s Hex, leaving the spotlight on sparse, downtrodden melodies, all of which places focus on heavy feelings, not merely heavy sounds. That’s something emo pop-punk kids will never understand. It’s not how many chords you can play as fast as possible; the real power is putting an emotional cannon behind a single note. That is the true meaning of resonance. Suffice to say, EARTH is still first. - filmore mescalito holmes Filthy Thieving Bastards I’m a Son of Gun BYO You’d never know by listening to this CD that the members of the Filthy Thieving Bastards are all veteran punk rockers. Indeed, FTB have successfully removed all trace of their unsavoury ancestry, leaving in its place this pleasing hodgepodge of traditional folk ballads, Celtic, Latin, and good ol’ beer-drinking singalongs. The music here is well executed, the mood superb, and even Spider Stacy of the Pogues is along to
provide backing vocals and tin whistle. I never dreamed that life after punk was possible, but after this I’m rethinking my stance. Second thought, I don’t have to give up punk; I can have this as well. I’m a Son of Gun is perfect to listen to while you putter around the house in your underwear, getting ready to go out and act young even though you’re not. - Chris Walter Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly The Chronicles of a Bohemian Teenager Warner When did this happen? When did rock ’n’ roll become so utterly spineless? Was it Garden State? Sufjan? Bright Eyes? That goofy Dashboard Confessional guy? Whenever, and whoever, started this gravitation towards feeble emo/indie garbage, it has to stop, seriously. I fear for the survival of the species.Years of this kind of sonic abuse surely must have serious emotional, mental and physical consequences. Has anyone actually compared a kid raised on the Stooges and his ability to procreate with that of a kid raised on Death Cab? I’m betting the Stooges kid is packing way more tail boys down there than Mr. Emotional. There is simply no excuse for the weakly concocted music made by this British kid from Get Cape. No excuse. - Brock Thiessen
girl with an acoustic guitar”. Nothing new or particularly interesting is brought to the table here. Grant’s sound falls somewhere between Cat Power and Ani DiFranco. Missing, however, is the velvet, encompassing moodiness of Cat Power and the sharp, fiery tongue of DiFranco. Orchestra For the Moon isn’t so much bad as it is entirely forgettable - a tough break in a genre that serves up musicians like this at a dime a dozen. One exception is “Don’t Worry Baby”. Anyone whose curiosity is sparked by the Cat Power and Ani DiFranco comparison ought to start with that one. - Devon Cody The Great Outdoors Booze, Food, and Entertainment DDG The Great Outdoors is the latest folk project by Vancouverite Adam Nation (Kingsway and the recently defunct Counterrevolutionaries). Booze, Food and Entertainment is the follow-up
to 2005’s A Scant Sixty-Three and the second in a planned trilogy of releases that come complete with a hard cover book containing artwork and lyrics, and a mock library card. Less experimental and with more traditional song arrangements than the previous release, Nation has found that seamless delivery that many musicians try their entire lives to achieve. Songs filled with Canadiana, from cold cars and prairie winters to East Van restaurants and getting a blue collar drunk-on, are all laid out with banjos, acoustic guitars, ukuleles, trumpets, fiddles and goose-bump harmonies. Cameos by Axl Rose and Jimi Hendrix help it all to make perfect sense. - AD MADGRAS I Walk the Line Desolation Street Gearhead It’s not always a good thing to be compared to the likes of the Clash, Murder City Devils, and Social Distortion. If you don’t have the feet to fill the shoes, you’re either a gimp with no feet or a person with small feet and big shoes to fill, and you know what they say about folks with small feet… they are likely inbred. The folks in I Walk the Line are from Finland. And, let’s admit it, most Finnish people look a little weird. Gimpy even. I can say this in good conscience because I am occasionally mistaken for a Finn. Gearhead isn’t lying to us however. The comparison in the press release is an accurate, albeit basic, assessment of the music. As for the intangibles that make the aforementioned bands legendary, these guys (and a girl, who is actually quite far from gimpy looking) are really lacking. Rather than using their influences to accentuate their own sound, it seems like they’re just aping them. And it’s a damn shame, because Finnish people are really quite nice. - Devon Cody
well. But fortunately, Immaculate Machine still remembers to break out a few party numbers, such as the buoyant “Jarhead” and its chorus of guest voices. All in all, this release shows a band deserving wider audience and appeal, which it just might get. - Brock Thiessen Kings Of Leon Because Of The Times RCA At the risk of losing their distinctive personality, Kings of Leon have all but completely stripped their sound of the southern country element that characterized much of their first two albums. This has given them the opportunity to prove their ability as songwriters of class, not dependant on repeating themselves. Because of the Times achieves this with absolute authority. The album begins with the slow burning, seven minute “Knocked Up”, then immediately kicks into a higher gear with the raucous “Charmer”, featuring a riff that could have been stolen from In Utero. “Black Thumbnail” and the subsequent “My Party” are probably most reminiscent of the KOL of old, while “Ragoo” veers off into cheesy stadium rock anthem territory. They also refer to “the beat of the radio” in the lyrics to “Fans”. Dubious. Fortunately, things turn around again with the mellow and haunting “Trunk”, and another straight up, low down rocker, “Camaro”. At times, the line between gritty rock ‘n’ roll and drive-time radio dad-rock blandness is one they walk precariously, but the passion and sheer quality of the songs eventually wins out. - Will Pedley The Last Town Chorus Wire Waltz Hacktone Not all publicity is good, and advertising that the Last Town Chorus’s cover of Bowie’s “Modern Love” appeared in an episode of Grey’s Anatomy is not going to endear a lot of potential listeners to the band. Apart from the fact that the show is boring as hell, allowing your voice to blithely emote over a patientdoctor romance is an act of selling out to The Man along the lines of Moby. Shame on you Last Town Chorus, or I should say Megan Hicky, as the band really is just her and a ‘revolving ensemble’ of musicians a la PJ Harvey. Last Town Chorus only really does one thing and that is a variation on the theme of slow, lapsteel guitar accompanied, atmospheric, female vocal fronted wistfulness. Hickey’s voice is rather Elizabeth Fraser, and it goes well with the Mazzy Star style super slow drifty music of Wire Waltz. Kind of dull, but sometimes nicely so. - Stephanie Heney Ted Leo and the Pharmacists Living with the Living Touch & Go Up to this point, I’ve largely ignored Ted Leo and his fancy-pants Pharmacists. Sure, I’ve read the praise, critics crowning Leo as “rock’s last great intellectual populist,” “the punk-rock
and brutally, while “Aesthetics of Hate” and “Halo” are particularly potent examples of a rediscovered muse. On the whole this is a less melodic affair than the previous album and it’s all the better for it. One notable change in style is that half the songs on this album are over nine minutes long. Considering that
need to know about this band is contained in its name. Strong beats, rave-friendly electronic swirls, feminist samples, and oft-playful songs of partying womynhood; I don’t really care, myself, but how could I possibly object? Fave tracks = “Sedition”, with it’s menacing/ironic “Here come the lesbians” refrain, and the crotchgrabbing rap of “Party Time (A Womyn’s Luv)”. The appropriation of “I like to move it, move it” is clever, too. The lesbians are welcome to it. - Allan MacInnis The Locust New Erections AntiFans of the Locust’s knack for efficiency, that being the band’s tendency to avoid songs over the 40 second mark and albums that span
the average wait-time for downtown buses, might have a hard time getting a firm grip on New Erections. This new erection spoken of is, in fact, the group’s new boner for ‘epic’ songs – ones that actually have an ample gestation period before exploding upon themselves, as opposed to the Locust of yore which would rather quickly spew a hot load of toxic venom in your face and call it a successful affair. But fret not, little noiseniks, the band hasn’t gone all Mars Volta on your ass – the spaz cocktails and dystopic cannonballs are still coursing wildly, only now these dirty bombs drop more unexpectedly and with a more violent force. - Adam Simpkins Cara Luft The Light Fantastic Black Hen Music The Light Fantastic is Luft’s follow-up to her 2000 debut (which earned a Prairie Music Award nomination for Outstanding Roots Recording), Tempting the Storm. The long wait for this second album is due to her taking time out to co-found supergroup the Wailin’ Jennys and win a Juno Award for their 40 Days album. As far as the Western Canadian folk scene goes, Luft is quite the star. The Light Fantastic can best be categorized as country music meets rootsy, spiritual, traditional folk, and it is clear that Luft has spent a lifetime perfecting her musicianship. Her songs weave personal stories (“Give it Up” bemoans the timeless topic of boyfriends being rubbish) along with more traditional theme of the open road. Luft manages to be at once Celtic and modern, and proves that you don’t have to be 104 years old with a beard to match, to perfect this kind of music. - Stephanie Heney
bands like Tool, Mastodon, and Iron Maiden have achieved recent success with records that feature complex and lengthy song structures, Machine Head could be accused of jumping on the bandwagon just like it did back in ’99 with nu-metal. On the other hand, with an album as good as this one, who gives a fuck? - Will Pedley Middian Age Eternal Metal Blade The first thing that strikes you about Middian’s Age Eternal album sleeve is the bukkake vomit mess that is the artwork. It took me five minutes to finally figure out the title of the album was Age Eternal and not Aye Eternal thanks to the arabic font they chose. But you need to put that aside because Middian isn’t all that bad musically.Yes it’s doom metal, yes it lacks the sonic polish in this digital era, and yes, the five songs on the record drag on for almost 60 minutes. But it’s done well and I have to say I like how cheap it sounds. It’s really charming to hear three guys make music the good old-fashioned analog way. All the songs, like “Dreamless Eye” or “Sink in the Center” are big, lumbering, jam filled tunes, with screams, melodic vocals, and clean guitars. I’m not a big fan of what the kids call doom metal, but if you’re like me and can get past the compulsory erection softening, you might enjoy Middian -David Von Bentley Modest Mouse We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank Epic Let me preface this by writing that this band is fucking genius and I worship at the altar of the Mouse. It was therefore with some apprehension that I awaited the latest release, as historically, bands that finally attain some mainstream attention usually follow-up their previous success with regurgitated bullshit designed to appease the Minivan Majority. Luckily, the news that the brilliant Johnny Marr had joined in on this session brought renewed hope (and for those of you living under a rock since the ‘80s, Marr put the riffs in the Smiths). Although We Were Dead… definitely show traces of the aforementioned mainstream sell-out, with a few tracks following the familiar phrasing of “Float On”, the album overall is traditional angst ridden Mouse, and Isaac Brock is still a God. A Lonesome Crowded West it isn’t, but still, We Were Dead… is an important addition to your Modest collection. - Gloria Hole The Morning Benders Boarded Doors EP Independent Berkeley’s Morning Benders are yet another addition to the swollen indie canon. However, while the initial urge to cast them aside like so many other aggressively self-promoted acts that sneak their way into promo piles is indeed strong, the undeniable charm of Chris Chu’s lyrics and his rich retro pop rock orchestrations sees the wonderfully named bay area quartet creamily rising to the top. Twangy opener “Damnit Anna” bestows visions of Sam Roberts fronting the Strokes, amid subtle Beach Boys appropriations, and that’s about all you need to know. Boarded Doors is one of those rare surprises that make music so addictive and fulfilling. - filmore mescalito holmes
ALBUM
Jenn Grant Orchestra For the Moon Paris 1919 Oh, Jenny.You are exactly what the Murder City Devils referred to when they sang “Lemuria Rising”.You are “another boring
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Immaculate Machine Fables Mint By this point, most know what to expect from a Mint release. It will emphasize a pop aesthetic full of bright hooks, singsong melodies and cheerful tempos. There have been exceptions, but thankfully Immaculate Machine’s Fables sticks to what the label does best. Through intermingled boy-girl harmonies, this trio of Victoria natives (one of which has lent her voice to the New Pornographers) comes off more confident and evolved than on past releases, with the band also flirting with a darker, overcast sound. “Small Talk,” featuring Mr. Final Fantasy, Owen Pallett, and the record’s organ-drenched closer, “Blinding Light,” are both notable examples of this shadowy direction, which suits the band surprisingly
poet of our generation” and other such highhanded titles. But I always suspected I couldn’t stomach the guy, and hearing Living with the Living has confirmed it. Leo’s soul-punk revival trip sounds all too premeditated, all too safe. His songs pose as working man’s rock ’n’ roll but instead come off as radio-ready fodder, the type embraced by rich kids sporting star tattoos or even thick-necked meatheads. All I hear is a guy putting Strummer, Weller and Costello in one easily digestible package with little edge, conviction or spark. Friends assure me Leo’s earlier work is better than Living with the Living, but I have little patience left for this over-glorified Jersey boy. - Brock Thiessen Lesbians on Ecstasy We Know You Know Alien8 Talk about niche marketing: everything you
Machine Head The Blackening Roadrunner After Machine Head’s dismal fourth album Supercharger, which resulted in the band being dropped by its label, 2003’s Through The Ashes Of Empires was widely considered to be a distinct return to form. Whilst this album did show more promise, in reality it was a fairly patchy affair, with decent songs all too often marred by cloying, air-punching choruses. With The Blackening, however, Machine Head has very definitely created its best and heaviest opus in a decade. The 10-minute plus opening track, “Clenching The Fists of Dissent”, is a bold musical statement and sets the tone brilliantly
Nekromantix Life is a Grave and I’m Digging It! Hellcat Well, the good news is this record is heaps better than their last dud, Dead Girls Don’t
ALBUM REVIEWS Cry. Still, it’s a far cry from the glory days of Curse of the Coffin or Brought Back to Life. It’d be tough to argue that it’s even as good as Return of the Loving Dead. Despite scepticism, one could make a case that new recruits Troy Deströy (Rezurex) on guitar and Andy DeMize (the Rockets) on drums are the best technical players Nekromantix has ever had on the payroll. While I do miss ex-guitarist Peter Sandorff’s growls and more aggressive style, Deströy, plays with the plucky, amphetamineinjected tendencies you popped a boner over on tracks like “Alice in Psycholand”. DeMize bashes his kit with pathological precision and, of course, it’s tough to be critical of bassist Kim Nekroman’s playing – the guy’s an animal on that thing.Yes, the players are in top form. It’s the songs that drag the album down, particularly the lyrics. Often, just when you start getting into a song, a forced verse rears its head a spoils it. A prime example is “Rot in Hell”. The song comes off confused and disjointed, the rhyming patterns fall apart and often seem more than a little laboured, and the down-tempo interlude with the chant of “Fuck them!” is just plain lame. “Suck my cajones”? “Fuck you beeotch”? Come on! Sorry fellas, but you don’t do tough guy worth shit. It’s not even funny. It’s just awkward. Ironically, I have a feeling this track will be a crowd favourite. It’s got a lot of swear words and bitching about things like “having your fries served cold”. I hear the kiddies in So-Cal love that shit. Whatever pays the bills, eh Kim? - Devon Cody Ox American Lo Fi (weewerk) I remember back when Counting Crows was in its radio glory in 1994. I loathed them. Pouty vocals, boho-chic aesthetic, and music that had the dull, stale impact of an egg fart. Now, either my tastes have changed – drastically – or Ox is channelling something that’s on an entirely different level than a pear-shaped man bleating about “Mr. Jones” and “Long Decembers”. Despite sounding a lot like Counting Crows, I actually like Ox. American Lo-Fi is an incredibly candid and resonant collection of songs that wavers between folk and alt-country. The opener, “Miss Idaho” has an instantly infectious, sing-along quality to it, “Awkward Beauty” is full of what may or may not be clever backhanded compliments, and “Country Music Promoter” takes a poke at the fuckers who try to pawn the likes of Shania Twain and Carrie Underwood off on us as country music. Many of the tracks on the record have the un-laboured feeling of first takes, as is the case with the likeably clumsy “Marta’s Song”. It’s the unpretentious honesty of American Lo Fi that won me over, despite my own prejudices. - Devon Cody The Pack Tintype Independent Me, CiTR Radio, a bunch of horny lesbians and the CBC have all gone stupid-eyed for these local lasses. Maya on drums/lyrics, Becky on
Kurt Reifler s/t Red Glare Ever since I started working at a real music shop (read: instruments, not CDs), I’ve had a lot less patience for albums like this. It’s not that the Washington come New York native’s debut for the fledging Red Glare is poorly played, but we’ve all heard these songs before. The changes, guitar sounds, vocal delivery, and lyrics have all been recycled from younger radio rock since Stone Temple Pilots first appeared in the early ‘90s. This is all quite sad, actually, because I think Kurt truly means it. Thanks to Pro Tools putting professional recording capabilities in the hands of mortal men, this is recorded as well as anything on the radio, but passion and decent sound just can’t make up for a lack of creativity. Coach sez it’s back to the minors for more seasoning. - filmore mescalito holmes Run DMC Live at Montreux 2001 Eagle Rock Run DMC’s legacy has recently been overshadowed by the still unsolved murder of Jam Master Jay, Rev Run’s shameless Run’s House reality show currently airing on MTV, and the latter half of the band’s career – a time marred with religious pomp and weak jams. And while the band wasn’t exactly at its artistic peak at the 2001 Montreux Jazz Festival, this recording is a firm reminder of how great Run DMC could be. Opening with the massive “It’s Like That” and “It’s Tricky”, the trio sound just as fresh as they did almost two decades earlier when they initially dropped their self-titled debut. Since the recording is so consistent here, with the group really hitting the mark on most of their prime cuts, it’s as solid as an artefact as you can get from these forefathers of hip-hop. About half-way through the show, the constant scratching and request for hands in the air gets a little tiring, but even the preachy closer “Down With The King” isn’t without its charms, proving that even at the end of their career, Run DMC could still rock the party and come correct. - Adam Simpkins Martin Sexton Seeds Kitchen Table Whatever new folk is (nu-folk? Alt-folk?), apparently New York’s Martin Sexton is one of the ‘ones to watch’ in the genre. However, he’s no young upstart and has certainly paid his musical dues. A self taught guitarist, he’s been playing live anywhere that would have him, non-stop since ‘98, and it’s paid off. In fact, he managed to sell 20,000 copies of his first album (on cassette) while on the road. The long awaited Seeds has a blues-country Van Morrison feel, but is very throwaway and it’s unfortunate that Sexton is unable to recreate any soulful live energy in the studio.Vocally he is distinctive, but unfortunately it’s due to him
“Venomous” for faithful headbangers. But what is the deal with the shit ballad called “Another Hero Lost”? It’s cheesier than your girlfriend’s yeast infection. If you’re into blazing cock and ball solos, with amazing technicality, plus a bit of song-writing craft, then Threads of Life is an OK listen. - David Von Bentley Sistrenatus Division One Cold Spring Vancouverite Harlow McFarlane seems like a really nice guy. I don’t know where the fuck his music comes from. Listening to this CD – a sort of rusted industrial/dark ambient noisescape - you can’t but imagine an immense warehouse where masked men in leather smocks drag pale malformed humanoids onto steel tables and gut them with gigantic mechanical saws, then hang their still-twitching corpses on hooks. Shifts last 14 hours and the benefits are for shit. Compelling and strangely comforting, I shit you not. www.sistrenatus.com - Allan MacInnis Sonic Reign Raw Dark Pure Metal Blade What’s more boring than a black metal duo? Listening to that duo’s debut album Raw Dark Pure, for one thing. Ben and Sebastian (last names unknown) of Sonic Reign haven’t killed anyone, raped a single human being or animal,
and never burned down a church. So even their backstory is boring, and I say if you’re going to sound like this (raw, dark and pure shit would be the perfect way to describe it), you should have created some kind of scandal. This is pretty much like a more technically inclined Mayhem without the fun of explaining the suicide death of its singer, how a picture of his corpse adorned the album, or why the guitar player cooked and ate pieces of his brain. Now that’s raw, dark and pure fucking insane black metal. Sonic Reign on the other hand doesn’t do anything new or exciting (corpse-wise or music-wise), but you might get a few chuckles from song titles like “Fucked Up But Glorius” and “Salt” (I think “Sodium” sounds more scary boys). Listen to Mayhem instead. - David Von Bentley Mavis Staples We’ll Never Turn Back ANTIThose unfamiliar with the voice of R&B/gospel icon Mavis Staples should start by imagining the soulful power of Aretha Franklin, the low-down grit of Tina Turner, and the spirit of Martin Luther King Jr. If that combination peaks your interest, you might as well stop reading, buy this record and let the music do the talking. We’ll Never Turn Back explores the legacy of the civil rights movement through reinterpretations of classic freedom songs, as well as songs inspired by Staples’ 67 years of experience as a black woman in America. It has been hailed as her most personal album to date and it’s truly powerful stuff. Producer Ry Cooder’s influence is very evident here. Musically, it is the most stripped down - and therefore the most rootsy and rough around the edges - Staples album I’ve heard. We’ll Never Turn Back sounds more like a distant relative of an Alan Lomax recording than any of her other stuff, and as a result regains the haunting, timeless energy that makes this music so great. - Devon Cody
of “The Weirdness”, which has a reasonably catchy melody, the songs go through my head and emerge on the other side having made no lasting impression. I won’t even mention how stupid it is for Iggy to sing “My idea of fun is killing everyone” for the entire duration of a song, completely disregarding the fact that this includes his record buying public. In fact, now that I think about it, I admire Iggy anew for those cheeky lyrics. Still, that doesn’t change the fact that not one song here holds a candle to anything the Stooges did in their heyday. Not that anyone is surprised. I’m sorry, Iggy. I still love you. Don’t hate me. - Chris Walter Symphorce Become Death Metal Blade A bit heavier and more thrashy then most power metal records, Symphorce has crafted the best album of its genre I’ve ever heard. Too bad that genre sucks more than your sister on prom night, because I still ended up hating Become Death. The music isn’t as glorious and annoyingly triumphant as every other power metal album I’ve heard, but even though these guys aren’t as musically cheesy as most offenders, the lyrics and band name is still pure Velveeta. The singer sounds like Nelson Muntz from The Simpsons, all grown up and fronting a band that may be technically talented, but do nothing further to garner any interest in their song craft. Other than the moments where the Casio keyboard is switched to ‘piano’ or they break out a lame keytar solo, there’s nothing here to maintain interest. The songs blend together like the two cocks that DP’d your sister’s ass on prom night, although one listen to Become Death, and you’ll be the one with cum on your face. - David Von Bentley
Thee Merry Widows Revenge Served Cold Cargo Music The broads in Thee Merry Widows seem like the type that’d hack my dink off if I gave them anything less than a good review, but here I go anyway. This isn’t very good. Seems like Thee Merry Widows are trying for an all-grrrl psychobilly thing here. Singer Eva Von Slut does her fair share of grrrowling, sure, but the entire album seems a little stiff. Perhaps a symptom of a young, self-conscious band? The music feels like it’s being played slower and safer than it wants to be played. The vocals have a boredDanzig-with-tits thing going on, and therefore, are boring. Don’t get me wrong,Von Slut can belt it out. She proved this with her other band the White Barons. But, for whatever reason, she chose not to with this outfit. The songs aren’t bad though, and it’s probably this fact that makes the substandard playing stick out even more. But alas, they have the right haircuts, tattoos in all the right places, and something that neither Elvis, Jerry Lee, Johnny, nor Carl could ever compete with… boobies. I’m sure Thee Merry Widows will do just fine. - Devon Cody
cock he’s ever seen. Avoid Dead Reckoning - the album of the year as voted by the members of NAMBLA. - David Von Bentley The Two Koreas Altruists Unfamiliar As I sit down with the Two Koreas’s Altruists, I attempt to wear my well-practised smirk of disapproval. Unfortunately, my face fails me. My muscles are suffering from temporary paralysis because of an earlier run in with Dr. Ron, who injected me, drilled me, and proceeded to polish me off, leaving a decayed tooth filled, and a face numb with Novocain. But at this point, it’s difficult to determine whether my numbness comes from the good doctor or the limp-wristed music filtering through my headphones. The Two Korea’s tired brand of the Fall meets faux art-school rock is entirely unnecessary at this point in music history. Seriously, Pavement perfected this kind of thing in ’92. On the track, “Steely Can”, the Two Koreas repeatedly shouts the line “I don’t get your frame of reference.” But trust me guys, we get your frame of reference all too well. - Brock Thiessen Unknown Instructors The Master’s Voice Smog Veil There’s a whole family o’ SST projects from the ‘80s that never got much respect: Saccharine Trust, Tom Troccoli’s Dog, and the October Faction, f’rinstance, all o’ which featured punks attempting noisy improv/ jazzwank over extended jams and leaned toward “stream of beat regurgitation” for lyrics. The first UI album, 2005’s The Way Things Work, seemed on first spin an unnecessary if inoffensive rehash of that period; I dismissed it. Their second release, The Master’s Voice, makes me question that judgment. The “buncha guys jamming” quality is anchored by heavier, hookier Watt basslines; George Hurley is his usual locomotive self; and Saccharine Trust’s Joe “Unsung Guitar Hero” Baiza straddles the gap between rock and jazz and fucks it with great enthusiasm (cf. “End of the World,” the high point). Watt recites a lyric, Ray Pettibon contrib’s a doggie doodle and a doofus-erific scat (on the jazzy “Twing Twang”), and David “I don’t care why you hate women” Thomas replaces ST’s Jack Brewer as guest vocalist on three cuts, which actually kinda works. I ain’t sure who main poet/voice/ founder Dan McGuire is yet, but any poem that begins with the words “Who fucked me in the mouth” is okay by me. - Allan MacInnis The White Barons Spend the Night With the White Barons Gearhead Being on Gearhead and described as “a blend of punk and rock ‘n’ roll infused with infectious ‘whoa’ style background vocals reminiscent of the Misfits in their heyday,” my expectations for the Red Barons were fairly high. Luckily, I was not disappointed and Spend the Night With the White Barons is indeed a blazing hunk of polyvinyl plastic. I don’t know about the Misfits comparison, but the White Barons have enough style of their own without having to ride on Danzig and company’s storied coattails. Singer Eva Von Slut sounds like a pre-op tranny hopped up on Jager and coke, and her lyrics are predictably vicious. Be warned: with the many references to booze and drugs splattered throughout the press release, it wouldn’t surprise me it the Barons crash and burn soon, leaving only this fiery slab. Get ‘em while they’re hot. - Chris Walter
REVIEWS
guitar/vox, this Pack (of two) blend Mississippi blues, damn-near Joplin-strength lung wailin’, and the no-frills, no-bass White Stripes/Black Keys approach into a boozy, woozy blues rush that sweet-christ-almighty smokes yer head right off. A musket shot of raucous shit-kickers – “Gold Rush”, “All Damn Day Long”, “Snow” – start it off, but it’s the slow ‘n’ desperate stuff like “Bang”, the tender “Walk On”, the bouncy “Buyin’ My Way”, and the downright scary “Bone Handle” (“Got a bone handle on my knife / Gonna cut me a man... down”) that’ll really leave a splinter in your gut. Oh. And the Pack have a thing with short songs that don’t really finish. It’s an endearing, minor frustration, but I’d happily listen to the spooky sparseness of “Got Up” for 20 minutes if only they’d let me. Small issue though. Tintype is a triumph. Good in the morning, good at night. This is the shit. - Dave Bertrand
sounding like everybody’s standard Bob Dylan impression, and the lyrics, while honest, are frivolous and naïve. “The first day of summer vacation, apple pie and relaxation.” Indeed. Ultimately, this wants to be Ryan Adams but ends up being bland old Maroon 5. - Stephanie Heney Shadows Fall Threads of Life Atlantic Since this is its major label debut, I’m sure the basement-dwelling long hairs of the metal community are looking forward to tearing Shadows Fall a new asshole. Myself, I have to say Threads of Life isn’t bad, but it’s not very good either. What Shadows Fall does well is consistently improve on everything its done in the past just by a little bit, and Threads of Life continues the tradition. Songs like “Redemption” and “Final Call” are catchy enough though chock full of sensitive gluteus maximus caressing choruses. There are also faster thrash songs like “Forevermore” and
The Stooges The Weirdness Virgin Listen, I love Iggy Pop enough to carry his illegitimate love child, and that wouldn’t be easy, me being male and all. But I’d try, and you know why? Because Iggy fuckin’ rules, okay? Here’s the bad news; I can’t get behind the new Stooges album, and not because Iggy’s lyrics are dumb or that it lacks “groove” as other critics have complained, but because it simply doesn’t have the hooks. With the possible exception
Threshold Dead Reckoning Nuclear Blast Technically flawless and absolutely soulless. Threshold’s Dead Reckoning can only be enjoyed by those view Rick Wakeman’s production of The Myths and Legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table on Ice as a towering work of intellectualism, or who believe Emerson, Lake and Palmer’s Love Beach is a worthy object of academic study. Sorry to you folks who think this way, but Mensa doesn’t reccommend this shit, and the members of NAMBLA surely do. Threshold isn’t for me and it probably isn’t for you either is what I’m trying to say. This is really for the extreme end of guitar-section Long & McQuade employees, your balding uncle with the ponytail, and those of you looking for bright shiny progressive hard rock in 2007. Keyboard solos, guitar wank offs, and some vocals from a human condom who treats his mic like it’s the most beautiful
Wooden Stars People are Different Sonic Unyon One time alternative Canadian music scene darlings and Juno award winners, the Wooden Stars packed it all in without explanation around the year 2000, and went off to pursue individual projects (not all of them musical). However, now they are back together again with an eight-track album that would have been a real winner around the time that the Strokes’ Is This It had the UK press salivating over their every move. However, that time has come and gone, and People are Different sounds like a dated copy of the Strokes, but without their effortless swagger. Much as indie guitar music has seen a resurgence in recent years, the Wooden Stars may come to regret losing their trademark ‘ahead of its time’ experimental sound in favour of generic past-its-sell-by date jangly guitar standards. The band are keen to emphasise that they are taking things gradually regarding the comeback, probably waiting to see if anyone still likes them. - Stephanie Heney
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DVD REVIEWS not quite jazz, and not what I’d describe as “easy playin’” unless, of course, you’re on the same level as Steve Vai (or one of the other two dozen REAL musicians he’s roped into playing in his numerous bands). This DVD, despite containing interviews with unabashed fans (from Billy Bob Thornton to Alice Cooper - who, you can hear, TOTALLY copped Zappa’s patented strip-bar-emcee-style vocal delivery), makes a convincing case for the defense of Zappa the Artist, showcasing the Baltimore, MD native’s creative process, which is highlighted by his ceaseless output of original music, his idiomatic, self-taught method of conducting his bands from a podium, his wicked sense of humour, and his absurdist, satirical attitude towards everything that pissed him off. And lots of things did. And I wasn’t even that big a fan of the guy, either. But I am now. And when you add to the mix the fact that Zappa never touched drugs (and neither did his band members, buster!), you get a true American musical icon who (and read this slowly so you get it the first time, okay?) was a punk before you were a punk. Dig? - T.C. Shaw
Frank Zappa
Apostrophe (‘) / Over-Nite Sensation Classic Albums DVD Eagle Vision Frank Zappa, for the three of you who don’t know, is a musical institution in and of himself. His 70plus albums must be some kind of world record, and his ‘stache and soul patch has been copied - unsuccessfully - by everyone from Tom Selleck to Freddie Mercury (who have never, EVER, been photographed together. Gee, d’ya think...?). The actual musical style, however, has never been copied by anyone, so far as I know. And why, pray tell, might that be, hmmm? Well, it might be due to the fact that it’s freakin’ complex stuff; not quite rock,
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VIDEO GAMES To The Grave
By Mike McIntyre Great Plains Publications As much as we like to indulge in fantastical worlds of fictional pain and horror, reading about them as reality brings about a more intimate discomfort… one that is unsettling, yet morbidly riveting. In To the Grave, Manitoba’s prairies provide the setting for a tale of a missing girl and the quest to trace the events following her disappearance. Erin Chorney first made headlines back in 2002 after she went missing, having been seen last by her family as she set out from their home in Brandon, Manitoba. After much speculation, police investigations started to point towards Chorney’s ex-boyfriend Michael Bridges, who was known for being short-tempered. Author of To the Grave, and Winnipeg Free Press journalist Mike McIntyre followed the case closely from day one, up until Bridges’ eventual conviction in June of 2005. This book recounts the details of the investigation and looks to the Chorney family, the RCMP, and the town of Brandon for insight. What unravels is a rare inside view of the RCMP’s lengthy sting operation, which mimicked mafia and biker gangs in order to lure Bridges with promises of power and money. Given the do-or-die recruitment techniques generally applied by organized criminals, the RCMP’s pampering entreaties towards Bridges, as he’s enticed into their trap, seems unrealistic.Yet it works perfectly. Originally the authorities did not have sufficient evidence to charge Bridges, even after multiple interviews and property searches. That is why the RCMP pulled out all the stops, and why you will keep reading, eager to find out the details of the grisly murder and Bridges’ attempts to cover-up. If you can ignore the odd grammatical error, the cheap paper, and the cloud graphics on the chapter heading pages (think Jehovah’s Witness handouts), To the Grave provides a delicious yet sickening account
of a murder in our own backyard. A People’s Court vibe is avoided with the emotional view provided by the Chorney family, and intimate excerpts from Erin’s journal, which bring the focus back on the victim of the crime. McIntyre’s opinion seeps in a little too often, along with some poorly chosen adjectives, and you get the sense that writing the book was a bit of a struggle for him. Still, the facts are laid out in a way that doesn’t distract from the story or interrupt the flow of the book. With its personalized approach, To the Grave is an easy and enthralling book that reads like a modern variation on the true crime novel. - Amie Lesyk
Shining Force EXA
Publisher: Sega Three-quarter perspective action strategy games have been released in abundance lately. But the problem with the Baldur’s Gate series and a lot of the other games in this genre is that the characters are just not badass enough. It might sound trivial, but with this game (and every other game with the option) one of my favourite things to do is customization. In Shining Force EXA, even though it’s slightly anime in style, you can truly look like a hell bent destructive force that says “I’m here to kick some ass… now give me your magical pendant and I’ll be on my way.” If you’re staring at the pixel representation of yourself for the whole game it might as well be something that pleases you and doesn’t look dinky and weak. Some reviewers have criticized games of this style for being too outlandish and fake. Some people may call the swords ridiculously oversized, but I like to refer to them as awesome. Swinging a gigantic sword that is twice the size of your character for hours on end may seem a tad far fetched, but come on you nerds, it’s a video game. Besides
having gigantic weapons that range from hammers to sickles, the game actually has many other great features such as the practice dungeon.You can literally go into the basement of your fortress and level up your character and even find armour, weapons and items. Everything is also upgradeable and you can add attributes to your delectable trinkets that range from faster attacks to HP regeneration. If you don’t want to wander around aimlessly collecting things and just move the story along you can do that as well. The game is a stand-alone title and does not tie into the other Shinning Force titles so you don’t have to worry about not knowing what’s going on or the characters. The story unfolds with graphics that are cartoonish, but amazingly detailed and colourful. The best part about this game is that it has all the RPG aspects that you may know and love but it isn’t too deep and annoying with character skills. It’s pretty straight forward; you kill shit, you get shit, you win. n
Some people may call the swords ridiculously oversized, but I like to refer to them as awesome.
The Carnivals of Life and Death By James Shelby Downard Feral House
So who is James Shelby Downard and why should we care about his book? Downard, who died in 1996, is best known for an essay called King-Kill/ 33°, which hypothesized the John F. Kennedy assassination as a Masonic ritual known as the ‘Killing of the King’. In cataloguing the weird synchronicities related to Kennedy’s murder, Downard produced an amazing piece of work. I think it’s also pure hokum. Downard, however, was clearly very serious about his efforts to reveal the complex symbology of Freemasonry, in a further effort to reveal its secret occult goals of epic, social transformation. In this scenario, you, me, and everyone we know (except The Nerve’s Michael Mann) is considered profane, worthless, and expendable. Downard’s extensive insight comes from a lifetime of battling the inner circle of Masonic influence, which, for reasons that aren’t entirely clear, meant a relentless effort to have him ritually killed (“and that is doing it the hard way, as they say in crap-shooting,” Downard writes of their complicated, theatrical efforts in this regard). In The Carnivals of Life and Death, which is all that remains of his unfinished autobiography, the young Downard is put in countless assassination scenarios, usually by his mother. He always escapes, often after taking out one or two of his tormentors in generally gruesome fashion. He’s also a person of interest to the Klansmen who infest Downard’s early 20th Century American south, and at the age of seven, they nail him to a tree. Downard later goes on to encounter high-ranking Mason Franklin D. Roosevelt, witnesses Alexander Graham Bell in a sex magick rite on Jeckyll Island, and - in one of the book’s strangest episodes - is forced to kill somebody impersonating cowboy actor Tom Mix. By the time his memoir ends in 1935, he’s mixing it up with “Wild” Bill Donovan, the legendary first chief of the OSS, which would later become the CIA. This might be the most significant name in the book, especially since Downard refers to his “mind molestation” at the hands of Donovan’s crew, which presumably connects with his description, in the book’s introduction, of regaining lost memories. Maybe The Carnivals of Life and Death belongs with
By Dale DeRuiter
Cathy O’Brien’s Trance Formation of America and Brice Taylor’s Thanks for the Memories as literary epiphenomena of the US government’s mind control efforts. If you’re willing to go down that dark path with an open mind, you’ll inevitably come to the question of ‘screen memories’ - implanted memories so outrageous and unbelievable that they discredit the victim. In turn, Downard’s study of freemasonry is both a work of mad genius, and utterly ludicrous. Personally, my eyes usually glaze over with Masonic conspiracy literature. I don’t doubt that it happens (try looking into Italy’s Pope-killing P2 Lodge), but I also don’t doubt that it’s largely a type of screen memory that all of us have been stuck with, one which often diverts attention from the real agents of control.Viewed this way, Downard’s exhaustive personal mythology becomes a lot more interesting, and sadly all too real. One caveat: Downard’s association with Michael Hoffman II will make him radioactive to those who can’t stomach Hoffman’s dubious “research” on the Holocaust. - Adrian Mack
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By Dan Scum ssorcA 1. Pounds (not Sterling) 4. Shift flats 8. League o’ the Lakers 11. Licorice All-_____ 13. Dumbfounded 14. A hearty dirnk from a jug 15. Japanimation classic 16. NJ team in 8Across 17. Depeche _____ 18. sdrawkcab sdaer ohw enO* 20. Hairdo’s 21. ___ Vod 22. Largest mammal 24. Ripley’s Believe it _____! 26. dnuora deppilF* 29. Oktoberfest Mug 30. Swindles 31. Rage 32. “Dial down the middle 1-800-CALL-___” 33. Gas for a Dutch Oven? 34. Stihl or Husqvarna 35. Profit after expenses 36. “Hi” in Quebec 37. Mos. After Augs. 39. drawerof toN* 41. Come next 42. Made noise like a cow 43. Not against 44.Young female 45. noitcerid degnahC* 50. Not Intl. 51. A virile male 53. Roust tenants 54. Peel 55. Swoosh brand 56. Marching drum 57. In the style of 58. Not closed 59. Intl. Longshoremen’s Union nwoD 1. Damon in “Dogma” 2. Word for measuring sugar/alcohol content in fermenting wine must 3. nwodedispu snruT 4. Opp. of few 5. Was indebted to 6. Pet Doc 7. O’Neill and Sullivan 8. detrevnI* 9. Offers at an Auction 10.Vital stat 11. Scrotum eg. 12. Wild West Pub
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14. An upside down frown 19. Command for Fido 20. Rules 22. An Earp 23. Spotlight huggers 24. Seal cousin 25. rettam fo trapretnouC* 26. “A guy who can’t get no love from me” 27. Enraged 28. Stitches up 29. Hourglass medium 30. It gets tossed 33. One of The A-Team 36. Cheers in Copenhagen 37. Makes cartoon ZZZZ’s 38. nwodedispU 40. Earth e.g. 41. Every buffet has two 44. Windy Woman’s name? 45. Bo, Luke or Daisy 46. Genesis Garden 47. Little flask 48. Beige shade 49. Highway sign word 50. National Rifle Association 51. ___ Cone 52. Helpful Hint * In case you don’t FUCKIN’ get it, these clues and answers are written BACKWARD or UPSIDEDOWN
Last issue’s answers
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