SINGLE-MINDED, Vol. 2 - Columbus Edition, Pt. 2

Address change in effect, Dave. Thanks for the tough love. I'm pretty sure all of my records have made it into my clutches safely and kept away from the young "hood rats," as you call them. The damage that could be done to their fragile young psyches should some incredibly depressing, limited-edition colored vinyl accidentally fall into their hands! The children, my god, the children!

Pink Reason "Winona" 7"(Woodsist), "Borrowed Time" 7" (Fashionable Idiots)
The A-side's stark, stately march towards desolation is some truly inspired gloom. It makes you feel every painful step, the deathly slow pace forcing you to look your shitty future in the eye the whole time. "I know the joke's on us, my friend" Kevin Debroux intones, and you know he's right. The B-side includes taut live favorite "Give it Away." It has the most ineffably catchy chorus I've ever heard. Try singing along with it. It's tricky.

In other, slightly-less-overwrought news, PR have another new 7 out alongside this one, "Borrowed Time" b/w "Scared Shitless." As much as I love the instantly memorable A-side, which reminds me of nothing so much as the Russian punk rock Debroux has claimed as a major influence on his band, I think that "Scared Shitless" is the clear favorite here for me. "Paranoia ... my only friend," Debroux wails over a thundering disco beat echoing from deepest hell. Paralyzing existential dread has never been so very danceable.

Laura, change the fucking address and we need more basement shows.

yeah, so laura if you want people to actually send you shit to review then you might want to change the address on the top of the page there. i'm sure the old house is just flooded with 7"s and LPs right now, so you might want to go check it out before some little 8 year old hood rat steals all of those artgay limited edition pink vinyl nerd ass records and sells them for some shwag ass weed that his big brother is hooking him up with. i'm just sayin'.

so, we need more basement, living room, backyard, roof or whatever the hell shows in columbus. I think its the summer of the house show. bourbon st. may never reopen, but i think this is a great time to take advantage of that fact and put together as many house show/party events as we possibly can. you know, do it for the kids. i wanna be a kid again.

june 19th- plexi 3, fighting weight and outer spacist@ saltair 2 -71 W. Tulane. Party!!!

june 30th - nobunny, okmoniks, grave blankets, night of pleasure@ tba house, maybe saltair again. Party!!!

July, August etc.- A lot more partying and house shows.- i will promise you Windcatcher, Daycreeper, prob. Unholy 2 'cuz Turco wants 'em, Northwest Ordinance, and any other band who wants to party and play a badass house show in Columbus.

here's one record I like that I was a bit lukewarm on initially:

Headache City- Teenage Grease 7"- F'n rocks dude.

SINGLE MINDED, Vol. 1 - Columbus Edition, Pt. 1

I am going broke here, people. The glut of quality releases this spring is killing me. People are either gonna have to start sending me records to review for free, or I'm gonna have to order the collective musical community to turn off its gushing spigot of creativity. Here are some singles I DID get for free, hence the glowing reviews below. Just kidding. I'm reviewing them glowingly because they are good and important, AND because I got them for free.

UNHOLY 2 - "Kutter" 7" (CDR)
If there are two things, holy or unholy, that the Unholy 2's Chris Lutzko enjoys, it's pro wrestling and Pussy Galore. If there are two MORE things I know he enjoys, it's a good afterparty and ... pussy galore. All of these influences can be heard on his band's debut 7" on Columbus Discount. It's faux-aggressive posturing on the one hand, but on the other, it's a genuinely raucous good time. The A-side's screechy intro is Melvins-style sludge, and on first listen way too long, but then you see the logic as it builds into a raging sleaze anthem of mosh-pit proportions (seriously, I can see the crowd down front at Lollapalooza '91 going nuts when they hit the chorus). Is the flip, "Porky's," about bad-boy hijinks with the guys? Who knows? Lutzko himself says in a recent interview, "The A-side is about how girls can't rock. The B-side lets you know where you can find 'em." Crass-ish skittering drums propel Lutzko's ranting about (pick one): Amerikkka, girls, Israel, Planned Parenthood, your sucky band, his band's awesomeness, partying, pro wrestling, and/or girls. It may not match the bombast or sheer sonic pain of their live sets, but until they spread their gospel of smut to your town in person, this virgin white (the color, not the vinyl) 7" release will do.

Just a quick note ...

... to let you know that we'll be back soon with more scintillating, action-packed music commentary than you can shake a stick at (how did that phrase come about? what IS this stick, and what does shaking it at things DO?). There's a glut of new singles just waiting--begging!--for us to determine their relative artgayness or lack thereof, and we won't let them (or you) down. In fact if Mr. Artgay (that's you, Dave) wants to take the lead on this one, I won't mind. I know he's got a stack o' wax and a gall bladder full of bile he's just waiting to unleash on you. If that's not where bile is stored, well, sorry, I didn't do so well in biology.

So, have YOU heard Hairdryer Peace yet? You know, that new album everyone's talking about by that weird band the Hospitals? Man, that shit is really OFF THE WALL! Like, is this even music? I don't know man. It's just a little too weird for me!

Actually, I think I really do love this album. I'm not SURE that I do yet. Every night I go home after work, smoke a big bowl, sit directly between the stereo speakers in the dark, and try to figure out if I like it or not. Mostly then, it sounds awesome. The rest of the time it floats in the room like a musical embodiment of your subconscious mind. It's fragmented and makes intermittent sense, like a dream, and then when it's over you don't really remember anything but bits and pieces of it. But then you kinda wanna be back in that place again. My best recommendation for this album is: I don't want to listen to it all the time, but some weird part of my brain definitely does (probably the part sticky with accumulated resin).

I'll let you know if I ever finally decide if this album is genius or just plain old artgay. It's something, I'll tell you that much.

Partying with LE CLUB DES CHATS!!!

Since Le Club des Chats achieved the HIGHEST POSSIBLE ARTGAY rating in Dave's last post, you know they're good. And they love kitty-cats. And they love 7" covers littered with pictures of kitty-cats with lasers coming out of their eyes. And they're called "The Cat Club." So now you know they're gonna be not just GOOD, but AWESOME. And that's before you hear the gloriously insane, insanely catchy "Ring a Ding," from their Yes Madame! 7" on SS Records, sung in ridiculous, sped-up, French-accented voices.

Not that they're for everyone. My BF ordered their other 7" on SS, Pump Up the Seed! (they're fond of exclamation marks, too), for the same reason I did--they're French, and their cover art features laser-eyed cats. Not with the same results though. His first reaction: "I don't know whether I should like this or hate it." One week later: "I hate it." I can't guarantee that YOU will "like" it, but you definitely won't be able to get it out of your skull. Whenever I finally lose it and go on a public shooting spree, you better believe this is what's going to be playing in my head in a shrill and endless loop.

I found more animal-themed madness on the website for their label in France, Le Vilain Chien. Who are these people??? And what do they want??? Besides pictures of cats and dogs in party hats, that is?

Back to our roots + the Lonesome death of Albert Hofmann

Alright, I'm back here again already for two reasons. One, I can't sleep, Two, to make sure the true meaning of this blog remains intact and lastly, to discuss the death of Albert Hofmann, the first man to synthesize lysergic acid(better known as LSD to you kiddies). Okay, that's three reasons, but I'm all fucked up on cough syrup right now, so like, whatever.

So if you notice our first post from a rather intoxicated journey into cyberspace back in late 2006, it noted that we're here to tell you when you're being totally artgay or when you're just been really awesome, so here's a list of who's artgay and who's not this week.

Code:
artgay=bad


U.S. Girls- I'm guessing this is some girl by herself making recordings in her closet with a rickety out of tune guitar(on purpose of course) and a delay pedal found in the trash. What's more artgay than that? Dreamy, ethereal, girl group music from hell. Actually, its sort of cool, treading the line between artgay and awesomeness. Do check- www.myspace.com/usgirlsss

Thomas Function- They killed it live at the House of Pleasure a couple of weeks ago(or Pet Cemetary) after a seemingly hellatious ten hour drive from New york city. They showed up looking pretty pissed and tired, but rocked out hard for the kids nevertheless. No artgay here.

Eat Skull- I like some of these songs, but they were kind of a buzzkill live. I'm willing to reevaluate my opinion giving the proper proof but 'till then, might be a little too high on the artgay scale. Sometimes I feel like i'm being tricked, you know?

Le Club des Chats- Man, I don't even know where to begin on this one. Can't decide if this is totally artgayed out or just plain retarded. Its definitely some freaky, fucked, French shit for true francophiles. Hey, that's me! Rating on the artgay scale = 10/o.

Slicing Grandpa- I don't even know what this is, but after seeing it on consecutive trips to the record store I've nominated it as artgay record of the year based on the cover art alone. Congrats!

The Yolks - These guys might actually be able to USE a little bit more artgay up in their piece after a pretty flat live set in Columbus a couple of weeks back. I dig the recordings, but its hard to get behind a band if they're lackluster live. Neither artgay nor awesome. Listen to the 7"s.

Death to Pigs - I guess they get compared to Saccharine Trust. Definitely can see it, maybe a little too much even. They hail from the land of Nancy, France, the same place a more artgay band called Monosourcil comes from. Think I like Monosourcil better, so this must mean I'm artgay.


Finally, I recommend for everyone to take a lot of acid this week in honor of the death of Albert Hofmann, the great Swiss chemist who gave us LSD! He died of a heart attack at the age of 102, so he wasn't able to be injected with it before he died like Timothy Leary was, but 102 is pretty damn old and this definitely proves that taking lots of acid makes you live longer. Hofmann discovered the drug while studying ergot, a fungus that occurs on rye that would cause massive poisonous outbreaks in the middle ages. If you really want to get nerdy about it, "Ignis Sacer", "mal des ardents", or "St. Anthony's Fire" are also names that refer to the disease which could be either gangrenous or convulsive. Apparently, Hofmann didn't approve of recreational use of the drug for pure entertainment purposes, so if any of you hippies out there plan on taking the drug without the intention of achieving some sort of spirtual oneness with nature, the acid-ghost of Albert Hofmann may come down and strike you with the worst trip of your life. Bummer, dude.

Pride of Algoma, WI

Let us now praise Hue Blanc's Joyless Ones, purveyors of a unique brand of bleak Americana. A gang of unlikely rock heroes from the equally unlikely location of Algoma, WI (pop.: 4000 or less), a lakefront resort town home mostly to weekend cottage-dwellers, retirees, and not another single rock band that I can think of. They share not only a French-Canadian-Wisconsin heritage with Pink Reason, but similar chord progressions, songwriting styles, and a taste for cheap beer and dark lyrical subject matter. Kevin Pink Reason has told me before that when he and the Hue Blanc guys met, they were all shocked to find that despite having never heard one another's music before, the music they wrote and played sounded stunningly familiar to both parties.

Hue Blanc's second LP, Arriere Garde (which, incidentally, has one of my favorite record covers in recent history), released a few months back on SS Records, is both haunted- and elated-sounding. They revel, by way of garage-y organ and the trebley crash of multiple guitars, in the muck of failed relationships and failed dreams. It sounds depressing, and it is, but it doesn't drag you down; in fact, I find their music oddly uplifting. When they're not being pensive and dark they're being blunt and funny: Ted laughs audibly as he delivers the lines "For all my words/I'm just trying to fuck you." In Hue Blanc's perpetually autumnal world (one of their many artfully titled songs is, in fact, called "A Frolicked Walk Through Autumnal Bliss"), there's too much decay all around to worry about coming up with a smooth line. Better to just swill some more beer and find someone to keep the cold and loneliness at bay, even if just for tonight.

Hue Blanc's Joyless Ones will appear tomorrow night at Carabar here in Columbus along with Pink Reason, Grave Blankets, and Michael Zink's Nuggets Fancy (MZ currently being a Joyless One, as well). Come on down and get your soul dirty.

Blow out the Torch

Everyone in France, Tibet, and all you nations worldwide, keep blowing out the torch. Fuck the Olympics and oppression of the people of Tibet. Its not even safe to host the Olympics in China due to the overwhelming pollution problem in a country that has no admission standards. This risks potential health problems for Olympic competitors in Beijing. I'm all for creating dams that provide hydro electric power to cut down on the dastardly pollution problem, but when this creates the displacement of thousands of people who have lived on the land for years, it seems that a better solution needs to reached. Bringing politics into the Olympic games may seem sort of lame, but I guess its one way to get your voice out there. Perhaps these protestors are being paid off anyhow, so it might just be another instance of fraudulent passion for human rights. Still, blow out the torch.

Rekkids kiddies:

Inca Ore - White Nature vs. Wild Magic - Cool, vocal layered stuff from this Portland girl. No guitars, drums or anything lame like that. Atmospheric, druggy, trippy dippy hippie.

Meth Teeth - The 7" on Sweet Rot is a winner. Folky, reverb powered pop slop.

Yokohama Hooks - Turn on 7" - Punk Rock of the Rough Trade mold, but with some radical Poly Styrene esque shrieking. cooler than college.

Auto Glamour Sound Compilation - Shake it! records put this out awhile back. A fine capsule of the early 80's Cincinnati art-punk scene based around the long forgotten Hospital Records. Only band not from cincy is Teddy and the Frat Girls, but they're another story. Don't get me started on them, I could go on for days.

Talbot Tagora - Volcano Girls - I'm going to shut up about them right now.

Washington Phillips - What are they doing in heaven today? - Not usually a huge fan of the blues, but this 1920's gospel-blues singer had a unique voice accompanied by the dolceola, a zither like instrument with tiny piano keys. ends up sounding like a cross between a harp and piano and nothing like the Third Man. har har.

P.S.

if you are reading this, you are a big dork and need to spend less time on the internet and more time fucking girls. I think Steve Albini said that. or was it Paul Butterfield?

Sister Breed

Someone used the term "Crimson Wave" to describe the recent spate of releases by young women making a dark and gloomy racket in their bedrooms. It's supposed to be a joke, so don't go adding that tag to your Ebay listings or anything. There have been quite a few of these kinds of projects cropping up--you're probably aware of Zola Jesus, soon to have 7"s out on Sacred Bone and Die Stasi, and maybe U.S. Girls--and now here's another one, Circuit des Yeux, who is one Haley Fohr of Lafayette, IN. She sent me this CD-R in the mail a few weeks ago and I still owe her something in return (Haley it's coming ... here's a good review till then). I think she might only be in her late teens, but you'd never know it from these defiantly weird, distinctly female home recordings. From the stuff I heard on Myspace I thought it would mostly be a lot of otherworldly caterwauling, but the 10 tracks actually showcase a variety of styles, ranging from the creepy wailing and scraping violin on "Eyes" to the buoyant acoustic guitar and handclaps of "The Escorts" to the field-holler "Penance Blues." "We are the sister breed, it's our time" she sings on "Sister Breed," and I won't presume to know what she means by that, but it sounds like a call to arms for the young, female and weird everywhere. I only wish I was this cool in high school ...

I'm not sure if she's still offering these for trade, but you might be able to check with her at her Myspace. I hope someone wants to do a 7" for her or something sometime soon.

Dear Dave,

where are you to provide acerbic counterpoint to the ravingly positive review of Naked on the Vague below? You know I count on you to balance out my relentless optimism about the current state of music. Come on, don't leave us hanging!

Oh, and Dave was totally right about Talbot Tagora, I heard their self-released 7" at his place the other night and it rooooooools! Crazy kids. Order it here.

This is not a SXSW post

Because really, aren't you tired of hearing about it? I am. Whether you went or whether you stayed home like a normal, sane person, it's time to shitcan the SouthBy talk and move onto more important topics, like March Madness or getting that hot summer body before shorts season arrives. And everyone else has already done a better and more timely job of talking about it. But I DID go and saw a ton of awesome music and bought some cool records, so I will probably namedrop the fearsome 4-lettered acronym from time to time in the next few posts. I brought a camera along hoping to capture some visuals to accompany my reminiscings, but I forgot that 1) I hate taking pictures 2) I'm not good at it and 3) taking pictures is gay.

But anyway, what I'm listening to right now ... two Naked on the Vague releases, Sad Sun (Sabbatical) and The Blood Pressure Sessions (Dual Plover). I saw them at the Siltbreeze showcase in Austin, which, even if it wasn't quite as mind-bending in execution as it was on paper (as much as I liked that Ex-Cocaine record, I was just really bored by the stuff live), still provided some big thrills and chills. NOTV was actually one of the bands that I found to be pretty head-spinning live and the recordings now make even more sense. Imagine two people sold into slavery, chained in a dank basement with some guitars, keyboards, and sundry effects, and forced to express their existential agony with primitive percussion and vocals that sound like they're being yelled/groaned from said basement. It's like that. But better. Full disclosure: I was really, really high when I saw their set, but I checked with a few sober people and they agreed that it was a spectacularly dread-suffused and riveting performance.

So anyway, NOTV are doing a big American tour over the next few months, some dates of which are going to include TNV and Psychedelic Horseshit, and Rich Horseshit claims that a Columbus show is in the works (haven't seen any evidence of this yet, but I still hope). You'll probably enjoy these dour Aussies even more if you see 'em live, but in the meantime, hunt the recordings down and let 'em sink into your bones. Good listening for when you're stuck in your own existential dungeon.

Old is the new new

Caught Tommy Jay's set at Carabar last night, and it was gorgeous. Just beautiful. His band consisted of a woman on backing vocals and conga drums, another woman (apparently Mike Rep's ladyfriend) on vocals, a lead guitar, a pedal steel player, and Mike Rep himself providing (exceptionally good) Casio bass lines and other keyboard ornamentation. They also brought up another friend, a short chunky woman with closely cropped gray hair and wearing a spangled bird mask, to provide backup crowing and cawing on a song. All the participants looked incredibly happy to be onstage and added a positive sheen to Tommy Jay's mysterious and melancholic tunes. The loving connection between old friends playing music together was palpable. I absolutely have nothing cynical to say about this. It was great. I have to say on my 30th birthday it was also quite inspirational. I can only hope to be that weird and wonderful and committed to kicking out the jams 15 years down the line.

Unfortunately the crowd dissipated during Mors Ontologica ... and I have to say that personally it was a supreme test of will to stay the entire length of their set ... but it was worth it because then Necropolis came out and kicked my ass, as they always do. It doesn't matter how many people are in the crowd, they always bring the ruckus. They played all the latest hits from their recent string of 7"s tight and fast without stopping for breath. Plus the sound was good so you could hear Emily's keyboards coming through loud and clear, which is the icing on their spazzy punk cake. I was so excited I threw a beer can at Bo, but now I feel kind of bad about that. I'm sure he understands.

It was a great night, kinda like seeing the punk-rock torch getting passed from one generation to the next. For better or for worse, Columbus honors its elders.

SHITGAZE Superbowl

This is the last time I'm ever going to use the "s" word, since that joke is wearing thin already, but since Saturday's show at Bourbon St. featured two Titans of Shitgaze--the NME-approved Tyvek and the me-approved Guinea Worms--going head to head for the shit-fi crown, I guess it's OK one last time.

I missed Blind Shake, who is apparently Michael Yonkers' backing band? Guess I'll catch 'em next time ... kind of curious ... got there in time to see Guinea Worms finish a rendition of their ode to collegiate fashion, "Drunk in Yr Uggs" ("drunk in yr uggs, walkin' slow for the thugs/nothing on yr thighs, except for my eyes") then launch into the Official Party Anthem of 2008 (sez me), "Box of Records." This song is evil. Since the chorus repeats at least 10 times througout the course of the song, and since the melody is retard-simple, you will be tortured by Will Foster's reedy voice wailing "there's really nothing better, there's really nothing better" in your head over and over again for days after one listen. It's been on repeat in my skull for weeks now, to the point where I might as well not even buy the 7", but I probably will cuz I guess that's kind of like downloading. Maybe someday we will be able to download songs directly to a chip in our brains. Whoa! Such was the hottness of their set that the Worms were actually looking--and my opinion was corroborated by a female friend--pretty hot themselves. Who says shitgaze can't be sexy???

Despite rampant hype and having played in Cbus at least 3 or 4 times in as many years, I had yet to experience Tyvek live. Rampant hype almost always = bitter disappoinment, but Tyvek proved to be hype-worthy and then some. For the first few songs I remained unmoved and I thought I'd been had by the Internet/record-nerd cabal--AGAIN--and then about halfway through their set something clicked and they became riveting and life-affirming. "Don't take away my air conditioner/it'll make it hard for me to sleep" singer Kevin begs, and you have the feeling he really needs that air conditioner. Like it might be the last thing standing between his sanity and a shooting spree at a fast-food establishment. Portraits of everyday despair against a clanging guitar backdrop and skeletal drums (reminds me vaguely of Mick Collin's post-Gories project Blacktop). Rock n roll bread n butter.

Wish I had more good things to say about Birthday Suits; I like 'em live just fine, but I don't ever feel a need to hear them on record. They're fantastically explosive onstage but the songs don't stick. They work so hard, though, I really want to root for them. Someone recommend something, a 7" or something, that will change my mind.

You're more artgay + Talbot Tagora (urban boogie) aka i'm more punk than You

Shit, I forgot this blog existed. Didn't catch that Daily Void set a few weeks back, but I have that record. All the songs sort of sound the same, but when that one song is pretty good you'll get no complaints from me. Oh yeah, they're extremely punk too.

My new fave record is the self-released Talbot Tagora 7" that came out late last year. No labels, no nuthin'. That's pretty damn punk too. fuck labels. they're not punk. But I am, so fuck you.

They named themselves after some shitty, early 80's executive car made by Chrysler Europe that was discontinued after only being on the assembly line for like three years. Only 20,000 ever made. Now that's some history kids.

Whudda they sound like? Just buy it yourself, 'cuz I'm no good at describing music. too many adjectives maybe? Or maybe music is just impossible to describe accurately. I mean, I could sit here and tell you all about the Selznick/Hitchcock film "Rebecca", but that has some narrative structure, a plot, you know?
But for real, this is lo-fi. or is it no-fi? what's the difference? I dunno. how 'bout just fi?

okay, sick of writing now. I'm only posting something because Laura did anyway. Gotta one up her or something, prove i'm still here.

Check out SSSSSSSSSTT records(no, i don't mean SST). gotta lot great stuff comin' in '08.

We're back

After a long hiatus UR So Artgay!! is back, with 100% more vitriol than ever before ... we'll be callin' 'em like we see 'em, kickin' ass, takin' names, etc. etc. etc. Oh yes, and reviewing records and shows, too. Speaking of ...

Caught Daily Void and TV Ghost at Bourbon St. on Friday night, wow. Awesome weirdness reigned. Chicago's Daily Void vacillate between Crass-ish hardcore and a more swinging Jay Reatard brand of punk (the vocals especially recall Reatard's stuff). Occasionally they leaned toward the latter maybe a bit too much but I'm not a hater so I'm not going to take points off an overall blazing set for petty shit like that. Lafayette, IN's TV Ghost, as usual, ripped my fucking head off with their lurching monster-punk. Abrasive keyboard whoops and wails atop spidery guitar lines and beyond-the-grave vocals, non-stop hostile energy. These teen sensations are going places, make no mistake. Missed Vegetative State yet again, caught the end of the Burndowns' set ... the Pittsburgh punk-poppers play fast, fun, melodic songs with gruff Rancid-esque vocals and the occasional careening guitar lead. Nothing wrong with that at all, so stop sneering. I love Rancid.

Boring Bands

What's up with boring bands? I'll tell you what's up. A lot of bands out right now just bore the hell out of me, despite their current hip streak in underground/indie rock circles . Blues Control(SNooze Control), Wooden Shjips (what a dumb name), Jerusalem and the Star Baskets(don't even get me started on that one) and Ex-Cocaine(well, I did enjoy them when I was extremely high) to name just a few, are all in the current crop of bands that just don't seem to live up to the hype. Okay, I'm not doubting any of these groups' sincerity or devotion to their craft, its just that I'm goddamn sick of hearing about how good they are and I can't help but think that I've heard a lot of bands do what they do way better. In fact, I know I have wiseguy.

Stuff I've heard these year that I actually like: Electric Bunnies, Pyramids, Factums, The Terminals(the one from Nebraska, although there is a trippier, kinda Doors sounding band with the same name that I liked too).

There it is, kid. (james reference). not the band, although laid is pretty sweet.

Transcendence

Tuesday night found me at Skylab, digging the way-out shit and chugging PBR tallboys. A surprisingly edifying combination. Witness to: a dude named Jalso, who ran his saxophone through multiple pedals to not unpleasing effect. Also fellow noise-mongers/droners Twink Bully, who I frankly don't remember a whole lot of, except for the Kenneth Anger film that accompanied the set. And my roommate Ryan Jewell, who I mostly missed due to getting locked out of the building post-cigarette and despite frantic calls to those inside to let me back in (although the 5 minutes of Ryan I did catch was more inspiring than an hour of most other bands ... if you're not familiar, Ryan uses drums, bike tires, vibrators, and everything else in his reach to vibrate/pound/hum you into a state of enlightened bliss. Really.) "Headlining," if you will, was Brooklyn trio La Otracina, who ride the psych-prog wave currently cresting at Holy Mountain, among other places. They brought the heavy, they brought the tribal, they brought the blissed-out jam ... I was into it, due no doubt in large part to the PBR pounders. Everyone else I quizzed on their impressions of the set seemed nonplussed, even though I heard elements of stuff most everyone seems to dig on these days: modern Japanese psych (Ghost, Acid Mothers Temple), old-school krauty stuff (Neu!, Can, blahblahblah), classic prog, etc. Yeah, they're "musicians," (I mean, they had some fucking mean-ass chops), yeah, they jammed, no, it wasn't very concise ... but I dunno, they took me with 'em. Check 'em out for yourself: http://www.myspace.com/laotracina. Your thoughts?

Last night at Little Brother's Thomas Jefferson Slave Apartments offered transcendence of a different sort. I guess. Transcendence is transcendence after all, that's why it, you know, "transcends" things. Some thoughts:

• Looking around the crowd, I remarked to Dave Artgay that this was one ugly fuckin' crowd. Us included. Good lord, what a bunch of broke-ass, drowned-rat-lookin' motherfuckers.
• Bob Petric: one of the great unheralded guitarists of our time. Apparently one of the biggest assholes too. Can you have one without the other? Anyone who can wrest that kind of strangled beauty from his guitar has amassed some kind of rock and roll karma, however. All is forgiven Bob.
• Ron House: lettin' it all hang out, mantitties and all. The most graceless and freakish of frontmen. He's delved deep into the bottle to come back up with the most retarded of profundities, and he generously continues to share his hard-won, and -drunk, wisdom with us. I for one am grateful.
• Songs played: "My Mysterious Death (Turn It Up)," "Rump Government," "Bottle Island," "Quarrel With the World, something else I can't remember, and "Cheater's Heaven," of course.

I paid 5 bucks to get in, so that's less than a dollar a song. A bargain for that kind sweaty, boozy redemption. Leaving, I felt both much dirtier and much cleaner than I had upon arrival.

I saw approximately 2,000 bands this weekend!

Many of which I am trying to forget. I am tired--deeply, deeply tired, at the cellular level. And deef. Here is a small sampling of what put me in this dreadful state:

Mike Rep & the Quotas (Comfest, Sat. 6/23): Despite Rep's "legend" status among those who care about such things (and I am one), I never got into these guys. But Saturday the majesty of Johnny Furnace's echo-drenched guitar solos hit me full force. Eerily reminiscent of Grateful Dead-style noodling. I was at Comfest and that might have had something to do with its appeal. I will have to check them out again to make sure it wasn't just all the tie-dye seeping into my brain.

Unholy Two (Bourbon St., Sat. 6/23): Saw them at the post-CDR-BQ show last summer and then studiously avoided them after that. Now, whaddaya know: with Bo and Adam of Necropolis lending a hand to the proceedings the Two now produce mechanistic skullfuckery that is quite nearly danceable (I did, as a matter of fact). Bo laid into his pots and pans (I think there were some real drums, too) like an autistic kid who's been fed a buncha shots and set loose onstage, Lutzko's guitar was as blown-out as [insert gay/anus/Pride Weekend joke here], the whole mess floated in a fluffy cloud of Adam's corrosive feedback, which he sculpted with a massive bank of pedals (I usually don't enjoy watching people twiddle knobs but he made it worth my while [lots of thrashing/writhing], thanks Adam). Pussy Galore with less "fuck you" and more "JUST FUCK IT." Lutzko also wore the most ball-crushingly tight pants I've seen yet on a man. Mad props dude.
http://www.myspace.com/theunholytwosucks

Jerusalem and the Starbaskets (Bourbon St., Sat. 6/23): Sorry, I tried to like these guys but I just couldn't. I was bored. I will admit I was nearly too drunk to stand by the time they played so that probably didn't help. Just a drummer, a dude with a guitar, and some naive, starry-eyed hippy-folk. Recalls the Velvet Underground in Mo Tucker-on-vox mode at some times and the Go-Betweens at others (and why do bands like this get the "psychedelic" tag all the time these days? I hear not one iota of "psych" in this stuff). Not BAD exactly, I just couldn't pay attention to it. I like some of the songs on Myspace better now so it might just be one of those things where it doesn't translate to a live setting very well. Or I could just be a drunk asshole with no attention span.

http://www.myspace.com/jerusalemandthestarbasket

Gut Reactions (Carabar, Sun. 6/24): I'd be lying if I said that I haven't seen caveman garage-rock done better than these guys are doing it. But of course the whole thing about caveman garage-rock is that you're not SUPPOSED to be trying to do it better than the next guy. Gut Reactions are not possessed of any sense of melody, dynamics, or polished presentation that can't be found on any given Teenage Shutdown comp, but they: 1) looked like they were having a supergood time, 2) wore sunglasses onstage, 3) have a lead singer that did such a good impression of a retarded kid I was afraid he was going to poop his pants onstage, and 4) appeared to be the biggest nerds ever. I am a nerd, too, so I have a fine-tuned appreciation of nerddom. Anytime I get to see a band look this unselfconscious while playing I feel grateful. I think I might be a fan.

http://www.myspace.com/thegutreactions

NO THANKS ...

... to whatever fucking sucky band at Carabar last night that was so bad we had to leave before seeing Greg Ashley from Gris Gris. I went and listened to some of Ashley's stuff on Myspace today and it was quite good (weird slow drugginess ... some organ-laden '50s rock balladry ... some other stuff in there too) and now I would have like to have checked it out live and I COULD HAVE had it not been for this bunch of total vaginas lisping out some watered-down Eliot Smith/Iron & Wine excrement for what seemed like hours. I'm not sure that I have the right dudes but it MIGHT have been this band called Romantica from Minneapolis, if the show listing for last night in the Other Paper is correct. If so, they apparently are very excited about having come in second place in the International Songwriting Competition (the what?) in the Americana (!) category and love, love, love Jeff Buckley and the Wallflowers. Too much funny stuff there to even begin.

I guess I could blame myself for being lame and going home to eat pizza but I'd rather blame these dumbfucks, as they deserve it.