Sorry for the quiet, folks -- we've had to undergo some fairly major behind-the-scenes changes of late, site-wise, and things aren't quite yet working the way I'd like, so I've been having to put off the ranting/philosophizing a bit. Basically, Blogger started up with its semi-monthly Bartleby phase again, refusing to post sometimes 'til a day or two after I put in the actual post (if the post goes up at all), and only then after much kicking and re-posting.

I'm feeling a bit bad about being so hard on Blogger, though, because I realized somewhat belatedly that the problem was actually on the Network Solutions (our ISP) end. Switch to a different hosting company, and -- poof! -- my Blogger problems go away. Damn. Sorry, Blogger crew... Unfortunately, the hosting switch isn't complete yet, so this post may yet be delayed by a week or so (who knows?); once I get a few last kinks ironed out, though, this whole deal will be much, much better. I hope. Keep your fingers crossed, eh?

(BTW, yes, this site will be transitioning to WordPress one day soon -- thanks to Marshall for technical assistance on figuring out how to import the posts -- but that process is going slowly, mostly due to me being totally new to it & not having a whole heck of a lot of time...)

Part 1: Secret Saturday/Sunday
Anyway, administrivia out of the way, I wanted to post a bit about how damn cool last weekend's Secret Saturday/Sunday Festival at The Shady Tavern turned out to be. I didn't end up being able to bring The Midget with me -- The Wife declared that the sun would fry her wee brain like an egg, despite my protestations that there would be shade, and we'd be in it -- but I did make it down for a couple of hours on Saturday and had a blast.

I pulled up just as The Tontons started their set, so I was over the moon about that -- between this performance and their set at the HPMAs, I'm seriously impressed by this band. They're honestly one of the best bands I've seen lately, and that's out of a big, big list. Frontwoman Asli is really something else, even cooking in the summertime heat, and the rest of the band are like a finely-tuned machine. I felt for the Tontons' drummer, though, since the poor guy's kit happened to be situated just out from under the edge of the gazebo/stage where they played, enough that he had the sun beating down on him the whole damn time. Gah...

Hung out a bit with the guys from Co-Pilot after that, despite missing their set (sorry, you guys! I swear I got their as fast I could...). Chatting with Derek is always fun; he's one of the few survivors left around from The Kinda-Good Ole Days when I attempted the music-making thing myself, having played shows with my long-dead band as the frontguy of Scooter (who I still miss, honest) and then drifted out of the musical orbit the same way I did for a few years there. It always feels like he & I are kind of at the same place in our respective lives, so it's cool to talk to him on those rare occasions when Co-Pilot plays. Plus, I got to meet brother/guitarist Brandon for the first time, after having emailed back & forth a good dozen times, so that was a good thing.

While I sat & chilled -- quite literally, camped out in front of the big-ass fan -- with the CP folk, Lazy Horse took the "inside" stage, playing to a fairly big crowd of onlookers. I'd never seen 'em before and, seeing as there was no published schedule, had no freakin' clue who they were, but they turned out to be a decent garage-y punk band (and quite a bit, uh, older than I'd thought they'd be).

I also noticed the "Media Center" table tucked away inside the Tavern at this point, and suddenly felt ridiculously media-inadequate watching ADR from The Skyline Network and who I think was Dusti Rhodes from the Houston Press both liveblogging the shit out of the show (nice, nice coverage, y'all, seriously...). Sadly, I'd not only left my laptop at home, but the whole blogging thing was totally down right then as I attempted Stage 1 of the Grand Transition Away from Network Solutions. sigh. Next time, dammit. Good guy that he is, ADR said hello as he careened by on his way to talk to some band or another (or, hell, maybe he was just heading for the beer; I dunno)...

After Lazy Horse came Hearts of Animals (I think; I may be confusing the chronology a wee bit), so I forced myself to move away from the comfort of the fan and step out into the blazing sun again to hear Mlee & Cley weave some bubbly/hazy sunshiny melodies. I don't think I've had a bad time seeing HoA yet, and this was no exception. There were some technical difficulties, like the mic shocking Mlee every time she got near it, but it all seemed to work out pretty well.

As she played, I happened to finally meet Jason from local rockers Alkari, after many emails exchanged -- he recognized me & introduced himself, and turned out to live right down the road from me, weirdly enough, down here in the SW H-town 'hood. We chatted a bit 'til HoA wrapped up, and then I started thinking about how I could gracefully bail & go meet the fam for dinner.

I ran into Steven from Something Fierce, though, who commanded me to not leave 'til after he'd played (and maybe stay for UME, after), 'cause they were going on next. In the meantime, Like Yeah took the interior stage with her acoustic & big-ass sunglasses and was unexpectedly charming for a solo folky singer/guitarist-type thing. I found myself enjoying it in spite of myself.

And then, Something Fierce. I swear to God, they get better each time I see 'em -- they ripped the roof off, with a little help from an, ah, enthusiastic friend of the band whose name I'm blanking on & who charged out in a dress & not much else to dance to the raw-yet-tuneful rawk. It's funny, but while one of the reasons I love SF is the sheer ferocity (duh) of their guitars, I also love 'em because underneath lurk some damn fine, nearly classic-style pop songs. The new stuff I've heard brings that to the fore a bit more than the louder/angrier old stuff, so I'm seriously looking forward to checking out the in-the-works full-length. And the show was made all the more entertaining by the two preteen girls sitting out the far door of the "stage" and occasionally throwing sticks or rocks at the band while they rocked out. Ah, kids...

After that, I really and truly did have to bail, stopping to chat w/organizer J.D. (also ex-Over Sea, Under Stone, current Lenny Briscoe) about the show he'd put on. I told him the best thing about the whole deal was the laid-back, no-pressure atmosphere -- something Derek & I'd talked about earlier on -- like shows from when yours truly was a lot younger, and how I missed stuff like that. It didn't feel like the Scene Police were on hand, just a bunch of people getting together to see some bands, not even caring necessarily which bands they caught, 'cause they were all great. (Which is true, btw.) I drove home smiling, thinking about how awesome it all was.

Part Two: Tonight at Walter's
I hate to say it, but for me shows at Walter's are the antithesis of laid-back. It's partly the fact that it's a "venue" more than a "bar," a place where you go to see bands and not just to hang out -- at least, I don't think many people do, since there aren't nearly enough chairs. At the same time, though, it's also just more of a stressful situation than the above, in that I generally do care about when Band X is going on, I rarely run into people I know (unless I forcibly drag 'em there myself), and I always feel tense just being there. I don't drink or smoke, so what the hell can I do while Band X breaks down & Band Y sets up?

This isn't a judgment on Walter's or the folks who put on or play shows there, mind you; this is me, pure and simple. I've just gotten to the point where late-night shows when I can't cajole a friend into coming out just aren't fun for me anymore, y'know? I'm officially Old, I know, but I found myself wishing at several points tonight that I could just go home & read the new Hellboy: Darkness Calls I got at the bookstore earlier in the evening.

I think part of the problem is that I'm really not much a part of The Scene anymore. I just flat-out don't know very many people, so there's often nobody at a show that I know and/or can talk to unless, hell, I bring 'em with me. I'm trying to work on that, though -- in the past, I've really almost prized my anonymity, at least w/most people. There would be a few people who knew me, a somewhat larger number of people who knew me but who didn't know I did the site, and a ton of people who don't know me at all or that I do this thing. And I kind of liked it that way. I'm generally pretty shy, so I have to work up a bit of nerve to say "hi" to somebody & tell them I like what they're doing, and the relative anonymity made me feel secure somehow.

On top of that, I'm a bad, bad, bad, horrible, awful self-promoter. I suck at it. I just hate doing it, I feel cheesy doing it, so I don't. I cringe like a freak on those rare occasions where I "out" myself and say, "yeah, I do this Website called Space City Rock." Not that because I do this SCR thing, I'm part of some bastion of utter coolness, though -- in fact, that's kind of my point. When I say that, I feel like the cheeseball guy who looks at the doorman at the club, perplexed, and says, "do you have any idea who I am?" 'Cause honestly, I'm nobody special. Somebody referred to me recently as a "celebrity," and while he meant it in a very, very cool way, my immediate reaction was to want to run & hide. This site is special, sure -- I'm proud of it, and I definitely think that it is -- but me, no way. I'm not the important part, here.

That said, I am trying to be less of a hermit, these days. I'm trying to be braver about introducing myself to folks, whether they're scenesters, musicians, media types, or whatever else, because I'm starting to feel like isolating myself and running away is a bad idea. For one thing, eschewing the self-promotion also means maybe missing a chance to promote SCR and the bands/musicians we like. Which is pretty dumb. And I'll admit that I do get tired of staring blankly at the floor or scribbling notes to myself on scraps of paper in-between bands, when I could be talking w/people I've at least met and talked to before.

So, if some random guy named Jeremy comes up to you, says hello, & tells you he really likes your band, I swear he's not a stalker or anything; he just wants to chat with you music-making people. (No mace, please.)

Anyway. This is what happens when I stay up too late, all foggy-headed to begin with, and have free access to the computer with only Bessie Smith as background... So I went up to Walter's tonight in part to see a couple of local bands I've been meaning to see for a long time and in part because writer Brandon encouraged me to check out headliner Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti. (I tried, man, I swear...) I'd been kicked out of the house for the evening so the moms' group could get together & par-tay, so I figured it'd be a perfect time to head up to the Heights & catch some bands.

The first of the night, The Wiggins, was playing when I came in, to an almost-empty dancefloor. Which was a shame, because one-man-band Jon was damned interesting -- he beat raggedly on an electric guitar, pounding out chords that were barely audible over the distorted, dirty-as-fuck beats crashing out of his drum machine and yelling in an almost-monotone about something I couldn't figure out. All while wearing sunglasses, naturally. It was garage-y, it was noisy, it was crazy, and it was primitive, and there was something endearing to the whole mess, like listening to the Velvet Underground or The Modern Lovers. Jon Wiggins is like a man out of his time, and I wish more of the crowd there tonight had gotten where he was coming from.

The followup act, though, pretty much ruled the night for me (and for a lot of other folks, I suspect). Tonight's show was the official LP release for Balaclavas, who've re-released their six-song Inferno EP in totally remastered format; I talked with bassist Brian afterwards while snagging a copy of the vinyl, and he declared it to be a totally different listening experience from the original CDEP, with a shitload more bottom-end and a very different sound throughout. Haven't tried it yet, but I'm hoping to give the CD & the LP a side-by-side test this weekend, so I'll let you know how it goes...

I'm serious when I say the band ruled, by the way. I'd hear the two EPs before, but I'd never seen Balaclavas do their thing live before, and it was freaking great. They play this wiry, riding-the-edge kind of post-punk, the kind I don't hear nearly enough of these days. Okay, let me amend that: I don't hear enough good stuff like this these days. These three guys bring the spirit of Gang of Four or Wire more than anybody I've heard in quite a while, local, national, or international. Bassist Brian and drummer Charlie(?) lope along underneath with almost a reggae/dub feel, while guitarist/keyboardist Tyler(again, ?) screeches, chimes, and howls over the top. Awesome stuff to hear, even with the technical problems the band had to deal with tonight.

I didn't realize Wicked Poseur or out-of-towners Chairlift were playing tonight, so seeing them each threw me off a bit, unfortunately. Wicked Poseur were intriguing, with the dual-guitar attack and all, but it felt like the crowd (including me) just wasn't into it. Sorry, y'all... Same goes for Chairlift, but the NYers ended up actively irking the crap out of me by taking what felt like a half-hour to tweak the sound in their monitors. Yes, at Walter's, where the sound isn't bad, mind you, but it's definitely more bare-bones than a lot of places. It just seemed over-the-top, esp. for a band nobody knew was playing opening for a band people were dying to see (i.e., Ariel Pink). The band's singer/keyboardist kept putting off the crowd, telling them "don't worry, guys, it'll be worth it." My response: eh, not really.

So I did the Old Dude thing, and I bailed. Didn't get to see Ariel Pink, sadly, but I just couldn't hack it any longer, I'm afraid. Ah, well. Maybe another time...

Labels: H-Town News, Musical Crap, Pseudo-Reviews, Random Rambling

gaijin || Link || E-mail || 0 comments

Yeah, I got out there a bit late -- I didn't make it to this year's Houston Press Music Awards Showcase downtown 'til 6PM or so, which meant I missed 2 hrs' worth of cool-ass bands. Perils of domesticated life, unfortunately; it gets hard to force myself to hop in the car & abandon the wife & midget, even for a few hours. But after cramming down some leftovers for dinner, I finally jumped in the car & went, parked beneath Bayou Place, and emerged into the summer-evening heat to see as many bands on the schedule as I could. Some I missed (The Wild Moccasins, Miss Leslie, Two Star Symphony, Flyish Fish Sailors...sigh), but the ones I did see were just about uniformly awesome. H-town reaffirms my faith in its homegrown music, once again. Rather than blather about the thing as a whole, btw, I thought this time out I'd try my best to remember the mental notes I was making during each performance I caught (turns out I didn't have Blogger Mobile set up like I thought I had, or I would've done more than mentally make notes; argh...). Oh, and I tried to take pics, but it got to be progressively more & more of a pain, so I eventually gave up. Gotta ditch this camera & get a new one, dammit. The whole set of pics is here, those who care... The Scattered PAGES @ The Flying Saucer:

• First place I came to, so what the heck; I always like the PAGES (or is it just "Pages," now? no freakin' clue).
• Damn, the crowd for these guys is a lot more receptive than the last time I saw 'em play, over at Venue.
• The music definitely fits the vibe of the place, too.
• Down side? Not everybody's there for the band -- seems like half the room's there to drink fancy-shmancy beers & socialize.
• Can't get a view of the band that doesn't involve a big column or standing real close to somebody's girlfriend; time to move on.

Pale @ Venue:

• Man, I haven't seen these guys in forever -- seriously, the last time I saw 'em, I was still in a band & they were like Ultramagg's proto-emo/indie-rock pals.
• They've evolved, for sure; now they're more like a cross between Radiohead & The Killers.
• Makes sense, really -- Calvin's voice always sounded ill-suited to the whole emo thing, to me -- this fits a lot better.
• Mmmm, smoke machine.
• Why aren't these guys played on The Buzz by now? They blow most craptastic Buzz Bands out of the water, they're still alive and/or releasing music (gotta love how "Your New Music" includes music by a dead guy named Kurt and a good dozen bands that don't exist anymore), and they're relatively accessible.
• Crowd seems to like it; bouncers aren't into it, but the folks watching are.
• Hrm. Where the fuck is Jowell? He said he was going to try to get here about now...
• Why can't I check my email in here? Are the walls lined w/lead or something?
• Is that Hank from Southern Backtones filming everything?
• Wait a second...I think I know the crew 2 tables over from the Hash House Harriers. Weird.
• Last song, heading outside to figure out what next; got a text msg from Jowell telling me I'm on my own. Ah, damn.
• The Tontons are next, so back in I go.
• David C. Sighting #1.

The Tontons @ Venue:

• Holy fucking shit. I should just go home now; nothing will top this.
• (Okay, so that turned out to almost be true.)
• Ramon Sighting #1.
• Asli is amazing, like Nina Simone fronting The Experience.
• Love how she's sultry & playful, all at once.
• Never seen so many guys w/cameras taking pictures of the same woman at the same time.
• The band seems honestly humbled by the reaction they're getting.
• Hey, a Jay Lee Sighting!
• Raw and awesome; the bass makes my chest vibrate, & I love it.
• Band's almost done -- time to try to catch part of Black Math Experiment.
• God damn, BME's a long ways off; The Real Sammies is all the way past Notsuoh.
• Nice chat w/Rosa on the way up -- she's going for Wiggins, so I might, too.
• Ramon Sighting #2.
• Whoops...passers-by inform that Wiggins're done. On to Sammies.

Black Math Experiment @ The Real Sammies:

• Fuck, my feet hurt. Ingrown toenail surgery sucks ass.
• Damn, missed most of the show.
• For a reunion of a now-defunct band, they seem totally into it.
• Heck, why'd they quit?
• That Jef With One F, he's something else.
• Final song reminds me (favorably, somehow) of musical theatre, like a Rent outtake.
• Ah, for a toilet-paper gun/leafblower that actually works...
• (Apparently the key is better-quality toilet paper, as half the crowd informs Jef after. How do they know this? I'm afraid to ask.)
• Undaunted, Jef uses leafblower on tables & people's clothes. Sometimes you improvise, yo.
• Lady from the Press looks like she's ready for BME to get done.
• Nice to actually meet Jef in person; damn nice guy.
• And weirdly, he looks almost exactly how I'd pictured him, which hasn't ever happened before.
• Quit bugging Jef so he can load out, time to hike down to Notsuoh.
• According to people walking ahead of me, BME didn't play "You Can't Kill David Arquette," for some reason.
• Run into Justin & Larry Prkl8r (aka "my sometime accountant") @ Notsuoh while waiting for Hearts of Animals.
• Oh yeah, Buxton & Spain Colored Orange're right now, too...can I do all three?
• Larry heads off to talk to Jim Pirtle, so I tag along w/Justin to Buxton.
• Sounds like Twotenanny was good, if hot/packed; Sharks and Sailors as The Police == good.

Buxton @ Butterfly High:

• Never been here before; odd little bar.
• Wow, these guys are good live.
• And they sound different from A Family Light, too; louder & more countryish.
• Actually, reminds me of Lucero or Springsteen more than anything folky.
• Normally it really bugs the shit out of me when the singer explains the song before they play it, but here I somehow don't mind.
• Ah, and there's the Björk cover from last night @ Twotenanny. Justin says it's better here, but it may be that the sounds better.
• I really hope these guys record something new soon...
• Halfway through, so time to head over to Spain Colored Orange.

Spain Colored Orange(?) @ Havana Latin Grill and Bar:

• Um. What?
• Who the fuck is this? Did SCO & Espantapajaros get switched?
• Lot of people here to see Spain Colored Orange, but I honestly can't tell if it is them.
• If so, Gilbert looks like the love child of Santana & Tommy Chong these days.
• Whoa -- I haven't seen this band in a decade, since The Oven was still around. [NEXT-AM UPDATE FROM JUSTIN: It turns out that was, in fact Spaincoloredorange and the bearded guy was Gilbert. It seems they have changed.]
• Lots of funky horns, R&B rhythms, and keys.
• Why don't they require that bands have a big poster behind 'em w/their name? Wouldn't that be good publicity for the bands?
• Eh. Not doing much for me.
• Justin stays to see who the band actually is; I bail and try to catch Hearts of Animals.
• Ah, crap. HoA's backing band (I think?) Young Mammals just passed w/their gear.
• Yep, the set's over. Sorry, Ms. Mlee!

Sharks and Sailors @ Notsuoh:

• Hey, at least I'm here early for S&S.
• Need...soda...
• Wow, I've got a whole bench to myself. Lean back & close my eyes for a sec.
• Ramon Sighting #3.
• Hey, now I've got ADR from Skyline sitting next to me. Trippy...
• Stand up on bench to see the band, 'til I feel all vulnerable & exposed and sit back down.
• These folks still rule; "Fix Your Radar" rips the roof off. Like old-school Jawbox come back to life.
• David C. Sighting #2.
• Ramon & David C. are taking a picture of S&S's drummer at the exact same time, barely three feet apart. This cracks me up, proving I need sleep.
• Damn, partway done -- better go next door to see Bring Back The Guns.

Bring Back The Guns @ Dean's:

• Dear God is it hot in here. I can't breathe.
• Good old Matt...
• Sure hope that fratguy in front of him doesn't do anything stupid while Matt's all wrapped in that plastic banner.
• David C. Sighting #3.
• Ramon Sighting #4.
• Damn, the sound sucks. What the hell? Why's it sound like BBTG are playing through toy speakers?
• I can't do this; I've got to get out.
• Heading south to catch Young Mammals.

Young Mammals @ Butterfly High:

• Oh, wow. Tie w/the Tontons for best fucking performance of the night.
• I've never seen a crowd at the HPMAs react to a band the way these folks are digging Young Mammals.
• They're so damn driving, it's awesome.
• The drummer (Iram, I think?) truly is the engine of the band. Damn shame he's moving away...
• I think Clay's trying to get people onstage w/the band.
• Holy cow -- they just transformed the whole place into an indie-rock dance par-tay.
• Nice to see smiling faces all 'round; these people know they're witnessing something special.
• Only seen the band live once before, but this blows that performance out of the water. Incredible.
• Ramon Sighting #5. How does he move so damn fast?
• After, they're all genuinely nice guys, friendly & humble & all.
• Clay's kind enough to take me down the street to his car to give me a CD.
• Part of this wants this to continue all through the night, but another part of me says "hell, no."
• Time to hike back to Bayou Place & the car.
• On home...

I hurt. Damn, I feel old. Nighty-night, all.

Labels: H-Town News, Live Reviews, Musical Crap, Pseudo-Reviews, Things To Do

gaijin || Link || E-mail || 3 comments

I haven't seen a lot of press on it (although, admittedly, I haven't been scouring Google Reader much this week), so I figured I'd make a quick mention of a show this evening... Nairobi-by-way-of-NY band Extra Golden is coming through town, playing tonight at the ever-interesting Orange Show (2402 Munger) at around 7PM.

And it should be a very cool show, going by the band's new album on Thrill Jockey, Hera Ma Nono. After brief listens earlier on, I was able to slap it on the home stereo this morning and was blown away by the joyous, happy sound -- it's like it's the actual sound of sunshine, seriously. I know just about zero about benga, the type of Kenyan/African music this band fuses to good-old American-style rock & roll, but the stuff on Hera Ma Nono sounds amazing. It all has all has an awesomely relaxed beat to it, plus a nice, almost gospel-sounding vocal delivery on several songs. Despite the seemingly wide gulf between the two source musics being mashed together, it all works astoundingly well, so much so that it doesn't feel like it was put together. It feels natural as hell.

There's even a track entitled "Obama," which -- duh -- is an ode to America's currently most famous Kenyan-American, who apparently helped the band (pre-presidential run) get visas to come to Chicago for a U.S. gig at the 2006 Chicago World Music Festival (heck, according to the press materials, the song also thanks his wife & mom for their help). And yeah, I can't help but like a band that namechecks our hopefully-future president in a cheery little Luo song of praise...

Anyway, I'm stumped for anything else to say to describe these folks, so let the music do the rest of the talking -- check out the band's Myspace page to hear what the heck I'm blathering on about, then head on over to Munger for the real-live deal.

Labels: H-Town News, Musical Crap, Pseudo-Reviews, Things To Do

gaijin || Link || E-mail || 2 comments

A mere handful of hours after yours truly blearily slapped up a post on how local indie-folks The Western Civilization (about whom you can read more here) won themselves a spot on the Warped Tour and are playing H-town next week, I logged back in to the email to find, lo and behold, a message from Reggie of the Western Civ.

Here's the gist of what he said: in spite of the "$5 over $10 under" noise on the show flyer, apparently the band is keen to get you, me, and everybody (of age, at least) we know out to Club XO/XO Bar & Lounge for the show, all for free, thus making the flyer more accurately read, "$0 over $10 under." Seems the band's been handed an unlimited guest list for the 21+ crowd, and hey, they'll gladly put you on it so you can come on out. (Sorry, 18-and-uppers; age discrimination sucks, but there you go...)

Just send a message to the band at "westerncivbooking" at "gmail dot com" or via their Myspace if you're interested (and yes, trust me, you are) with your name and the name of anybody you want to bring with. Heck, you can even just put in your name and the number of fellow beings you'd like to drag along with you. Then just show up, rock (gently) out, and enjoy.

Reggie also says Via Audio, with whom they're playing is very, very cool -- and he's spot-on, going by what they've got up on their Myspace. The music's kinda Palomar-esque, sweet and smart and insistent all at the same time. Oh, and the video for "Presents" that's up on their Website disturbs me in a way I really can't describe. Tourmates Jukebox The Ghost aren't bad, either, a little Death Cab for Cutie-ish to my ears.

So there you go -- you get to see one of the best bands in town, plus two respectable out-of-towners, all for zero dollars. Can't beat that w/a stick...

Labels: Free Stuff, Musical Crap, Pseudo-Reviews, Public Service Announcements, Things To Do

gaijin || Link || E-mail || 0 comments

[UPDATE: Whoops...I just realized I neglected to mention that the show's also being put on by the I Heart U crew. Sorry about that, y'all...]

Holy shit. Barring a surprise Houston stop by The Weakerthans or (less realistically) the ghost of Joe Strummer appearing in my living room to sing "Spanish Bombs," I honestly didn't think I'd get this excited about a show, but damn, there it is: Andrew W.K. will be playing at the Keene St. Warehouse Party (at 1620 Keene St.) on July 5th.

Yeah, I know -- I was pretty underwhelmed by The Wolf, too (although now I feel like I need to pull it out again & give it a re-listen), but I Get Wet, for my money, is the only true-blue mashup of Big Dumb Rock with Big Dumb Techno that I've ever heard that works. "Party Hard," "Girls Own Love," "I Get Wet," "She Is Beautiful"...they're dancefloor anthems in the awesome rock club that unfortunately exists only in my head. It helps, as well, that the guy's either a genius gone awry or a total whackjob, depending on which interview you read; he's serious about this, one way or another.

And then, of course, there's "You Will Remember Tonight," off the Masters of Horror soundtrack, which is like the theme to a prom night in some Buffy the Vampire Slayer spinoff where all the partygoers are set to transform into hideously otherworldly beings at the stroke of midnight. Maybe I'm reading too much into the song because of the album it's on, but I just can't get past it -- there's the outwardly positive-sounding message, sure, but W.K.'s voice somehow lends it an aura of menace, promising that you'll remember the night for the rest of your life because it's a night when you're going to change somehow. And oh, yeah -- it's a fucking incredible, pump-your-fist-and-roar anthem of a song. Click here to download & check it out...

If you're not swayed by the fanboy blathering above, however, have no fear, 'cause this is still going to be a badass show, even if you're not particularly partial to the musical stylings of Mr. W.K. The whole deal's a launch party for organizer/local impresario Jacob Calle's clothing line Golden Ghost Collection, and while I dunno much about that, I do know that there's supposedly going to be free beer, free clothing, free pizza, free ice cream, free movie passes, and free Sparks (whatever the hell that is; I'm assuming not the '70s band). Jacob assures that it will be quite a party, and going by the reports I heard about his We Are The Hollow Men extravaganza, I have a feeling he's not full of shit.

Best of all, Jacob's assembled a fine, fine crew of other bands to play the show (prior to Andrew W.K., I'd imagine), including great locals Bring Back the Guns, The Riff Tiffs, Papermoons, The Watermarks, American Sharks, Welfare Mothers, O Pioneers!!!, B., Lisa's Sons, & BLACKIE, out-of-towners (I think?) like The Octopus Project (whom I love), Winning (mem. of Red Light Sting), & Andy Dixon (also in Winning, plus ex-Secret Mommy, and no, I've got no idea what that is/was), and local DJs Shoe & Damon Allen.

The party starts around 1PM and is scheduled to cruise/crash/slam along 'til 4AM the next day, which, sad to say, is waaaaaay too late for my old ass. Tickets are $12 in advance and $15 the day of, and Jacob assures that yes, despite the Keene St. warehouse blowing up a couple of days after (and perhaps because of, hmm?) We Are The Hollow Men, it is up and running and ready to become the vessel of Rock that it's going to have to be. Put it on your calendar, people...

Labels: Musical Crap, Pseudo-Reviews, Public Service Announcements, Things To Do, Things To Download

gaijin || Link || E-mail || 0 comments

Yeah, you read that title right -- tonight's another "damn, I wish I had a cloning machine..." night, with great, great things happening all over our (not-so-)fair city...

Option Uno: Tops on my list is tonight at Rudyard's, where Clevelanders mr. Gnome will be blowing the roof off, setting hair on fire, and creeping everybody out, all at once. Seriously; I've been listening to their full-length, Deliver This Creature, just about nonstop for the past three or four days, and it's really, really, amazingly, mind-blowingly good. Just put up a review of the album here this very afternoon, for those who're interested, but the short of it is that the music's this weird, woozy mash of ultra-heavy guitars that'll crush you like a sociopathic child crushes bugs with a rock just for fun and delicately eerie atmospherics that sound more like they could've drifted out of Tori Amos's dressing room than anything else. It's an odd mix, granted, but damn does it work. And singer/guitarist Nicole Barrile's voice is just over-the-top incredible, going from a Jana Hunter-esque growl to a Karen O howl in a heartbeat.

Anyway, check it out if you can; if I can get away from the casa tonight, this is most likely where I'm headed, "After the Sun" and "The Machine" still ringing in my head. They're playing with some darn good locals, too, Fired for Walking -- never seen 'em live, but I like the songs I've heard and have liked the members' past stuff. I dunno anything about Treehouse Project, sorry, but I've heard they live in a treehouse not far from Rudz, and that's got to count for something, right?

Option Dos: If mr. Gnome aren't your thing, or maybe you're not looking to get pummeled by sound tonight, well, The Mink is the place to be, friend. Awesomely cool folky guys Papermoons are headlining, along with the also-awesome roots-indie rockers Bright Men of Learning (and no, don't believe the Press -- Marshall is still solidly behind the wheel of the BMOL ship), out-of-towners Ninja Gun (who we reviewed here, I believe), and cool young'uns The Wild Moccasins, who're well worth a visit all by themselves. I dunno for Ninja Gun, but the other three will rock you in a laidback, quasi-folky/bluesy way that's just hard enough to make you smile. Which, really, is never bad.

Option Tres: And here's my third pick for the evening, Dizzypilot, Murdocks, The McKenzies, and All In Your Head up at Walter's. I'm not familiar w/The McKenzies or All In Your Head, I'm afraid, but I've been meaning to check out Dizzypilot for ages now (even have the damn CD sitting in my car...argh) and non-locals Murdocks are very cool, explosively catchy rock, kinda like a feral, less-polished Superdrag (review up , if you care).

So there you go. No need to feel sad that you got slighted & didn't get the invite to the Houston Press Music Awards nomination shindig going on tonight at (um, I think?) Warehouse Live -- heck, if you hit one of these shows, instead, you'll most likely be having a better time. Okay, maybe. You'll def. have to pay for your own drinks, though, so keep that in mind. Anyway, if it were me (and I am skipping out on the HPMA nomination party, although it's very kind of the Press folks to keep inviting me like they do; somebody there must like me or something...) and I could escape the house-fixing-up, I'd definitely roll my three-sided die and choose one of these shows, instead. Your roll.

Labels: H-Town News, Musical Crap, Pseudo-Reviews, Reviews, Things To Do

gaijin || Link || E-mail || 1 comments

Man, what a week... There was supposed to be a nice, big update to the site this past week, including a few of our growing pile of need-to-get-posted live reviews, but then yours truly got laid real low by the flu -- I don't remember a thing from roughly last Monday evening to Tuesday night, and then Wed.'s a big blur, as well.

The one thing I did manage to do was dope myself up enough to drive (well, the wife drove) woozily to the Gogol Bordello show I'd been dying to go see for months now. It very nearly didn't happen, but thanks to the wonders of generic Tylenol, we managed to go at the last second, getting to The Meridian right when Eugene Hutz & co. went onstage, and we were able to see/hear all our favorite songs.

A very trippy night, esp. since I was pretty much continually on the verge of collapse -- I was actually hoping for a punk rock healing like I got from the Ramones once upon a time, but that didn't happen, unfortunately. We left just in time, it turned out; I started lapsing into fever & chills on the drive home. But dammit, we went, and we were even able to get The Munchkin her very own Gogol Bordello super-small-sized t-shirt (they're her favorite band, believe it or not, although Hannah Montana's possibly moved up into a tie position lately).

The next few days found me feeling half-dead and unable to do a whole heck of a lot, even while conscious. I finally went back to work on Friday, feeling totally overwhelmed by three days' worth of work crap that piled up while I was gone. By the end of the day, at least, I felt a bit caught up, but even now I'm still not 100%.

Anyway, that's my personal technical difficulties of late. For the site itself, some astute readers/contributors noticed a very odd thing over the past day or two -- somehow, our happy, relatively inoffensive, decidedly low-tech e-zine had gotten itself blacklisted. Blacklisted, specifically, by Google and anti-spyware/malware/etc. hub StopBadware.org. Which meant that if you'd Googled "space city rock" (or "Houston music," or "Houston bands," or whatever else) in the last 48 hours -- I don't think it went any further back than that -- you'd have seen a snippy little note from Google on the Space City Rock result that the site might download malicious software onto your computer, and you therefore probably shouldn't click on the link. Fuck.

This, as you might guess, was extremely distressing here at SCR HQ. We are not, obviously, a malware distribution site of any kind, which made the whole mess confusing as hell, as did the fact that Google was supposed to have emailed all the generic admin-type addresses for the site to let us know we were being blacklisted. And they didn't, which I know 'cause they would've all come to me. Double fuck.

In the meantime, we were looking pretty bad, and I've gotten at least one report that it wasn't just through Google. Fortunately, Google was able to pinpoint the culprit pages on the site somewhat, and they turned out not to be "real" Space City Rock pages, but the parts of the site belonging to my own now-defunct political blog, Something's Got to Break, which was where my personal political ramblings & pontifications went from, oh, about 2001 to 2006. (Damn, it's hard to believe it was around that long.)

On the negative side, those blog posts contained a shitload of links to sites all over the freakin' place, a couple thousand of which, statistically speaking, were probably since dead or co-opted by somebody evil & sneaky (it's been 2+ years since the blog got updated, y'know). Rather than painstakingly trawl back through every freakin' post, then, my only choice was to blow the whole thing away. Which breaks my heart, honestly, because I was intensely proud of some of the stuff in the SGTB blog -- I still feel like it was some of the best writing I've ever done.

Them's the breaks, though -- I couldn't justify keeping a defunct, out-of-date blog around at the risk of this site suffering more permanent damage, reputation- and readership-wise. So I'll have to content myself w/reading the archived files I was able to save down off the FTP site.

An e-appeal later, and it appears that we are once more on Google's (and, hopefully, StopBadware.org's) good side. As far as I can tell, the Google team has removed us from their blacklist, so you shouldn't see any freaky messages or anything when you search for us. phew. In the meantime, as well, I've used the burst of frantic activity to upgrade our ad-serving software from the now-unsupported phpAdsNew to Openads/OpenX, so you might also see some wigginess with banner ads not appearing on all pages, especially here in the blog.

Now, if you do happen to run across any messages online somewhere or get any bounced emails saying that Space City Rock has been blacklisted or blocked or what-have-you, I'd like to ask you to please email and let us know, because we've got to take care of stuff like that as soon as we possibly can, and we don't always know about it. Send an email, if you could, with the subject "SCR Blocked", to both "gaijin" at "spacecityrock DOT com" and "gaijintx" at "yahoo DOT com", and we'll get it one way or the other. Thanks...

(The Gogol Bordello show, btw, was amazing, especially the people-watching -- it had to be the weirdest, most diverse crowd I've seen in a long time, with elderly Russian-looking couples dancing traditional dances and clapping, Nu-Hippies in quasi-gypsy duds dancing around with abandon and beefy, fratboy-looking guys with lots of odd tattoos -- Eastern Promises, y'all? -- slamming and jumping up and down with their shirts off. The band, obviously, was great, like an insane, drunken cabaret act from behind the Iron Curtain in some alternate-timeline future where the U.S.S.R. didn't implode...)

Labels: Admin Stuff, Pseudo-Reviews, Random Rambling

gaijin || Link || E-mail || 0 comments

SXSW defeated me. For the past two days I've hardly been able to get out of bed (by which I mean floor) my bones have ached so completely. My brain hurts, my body hates me, and I'm sad because it's over. And churches are stupid. Anyway, my last day in Austin for this year's sxsw was great. And, once again, I want to thank Jeremy for giving me the opportunity to contribute to his blog. It was an amazing four days.

Saturday started in a garden. I don't actually think I saw any acts in the garden (I faintly remember some music playing, but for the life of me can't remember if it was in my head or not), but I do remember that there was $1 Pabst and a lot of flowers. The reason I went to the garden (technically it wasn't just a garden--it was the French Legation museum) was to see what time Okkervil River was playing, but I got sucked in to the moment and had to sit down next to some bluebonnets. After about an hour I decided it was time to leave to catch Two Gallants at Waterloo park but on my way out I ran into the guys from Noah and the Whale (yep, them again) and had a chance to talk with them for a while. I told them that they're becoming huge in Houston (that's up to you guys--make it happen) wherein they promised to play a gig here next time they tour. I wish I could apologize for promoting this band as much as I have the past few days, but I just can't. I'm in love.

Giddily, I left (Is giddily a word? Whatever) the garden, and walked a short 16 blocks to Waterloo Park to see what was going on at this, how in the hell they pulled it off I have no idea, free to the public Austin City Limits style festival a block or so away from the capital. It was almost perfect--75 degrees, slight breeze, free music and cheap snow-cones. What else is there, right? So I got to see Grand Ole Party (how perfect is that so close to Georgie's old haunts?), Darker My Love, and then Two Gallants. They were two of the happiest hours of my week; nothing, at this point, was going to faze me. Until that stupid stupid church.

I left to go back to the garden party to see Okkervil River but they were running behind schedule so I got to see She & Him (Zoey Deschanel and M. Ward), and they were suprisingly good. Seeing M. Ward play backup guitar to an actor turned singer was a little weird, but Zoey put on a great show. She sounds very similar to Jenny Lewis (old Jenny Lewis, not Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins Jenny Lewis, and that's a good thing). The crowd was huge, too, which was, huh? So after about an hour Okkervil came onstage and Will Sheff is a fucking maniac. He's one of the most confident, I don't give a shit what you think of me performers I've ever seen, and never has Okkervil been more on than they were Saturday afternoon. It was loud, it was fast (sometimes it was slow), and it was just what I needed to start the night. $1 Pabst rules.

Which brings me to church. Shit. The Okkervil show ended at around 8:30 and I decided that I would wait for an hour so I could get a good seat to see M. Ward and Jim James at St. David's. Yeah, it didn't work out. By the time I got there the church was already at capacity and there was a line 200 people deep with people who had the same idea as me. The sxsw volunteers (who are, for the most part, total dicks) made it clear that, no matter how long we waited, none of us were getting in. But I waited anyway. Futilely I prayed (it was a church so I thought what the hell), but my wishes went unanswered. And then I thought, what's up god, why can't you just invent more pews and throw that shit down here so we can all get in? What I don't understand is how the planners of this year's festival didn't assume M. Ward and Jim James would bring more than 250 people (the capacity of the church). And these were all badge holders (or so the volunteers told me), which makes me a little, sort of a lot, angry and confused. The point of having a badge is to be guaranteed admission into every show, and then something like this happens? There was more than a little rage walking away from church Saturday night. And the sign on the door said "All are welcome here." Bullshit.

So it was on to plan B. Luckily I still had time to get to the Dirty Dog Bar to see the Saddle-Creek showcase. Three of my favorite bands were playing back to back to back so it made the night a little less of a downer. First it was Washington D.C. natives Georgie James, then Saddle-Creek's only rock and rock and rock and roll band, Neva Dinova (the lead singer moves his hand so fast while playing guitar it looks like a strobe light is shining on his fingers), and finally Two Gallants (I know, twice in one day, they're fucking good, ok?). If you haven't seen these guys live, you shoudl try your best to catch them if they ever come back to Houston (and thanks to our ultra-friendly cops who love to taze 14 year olds, they probably won't), because they put on one of the most fantastic live shows I've ever seen. There was a lone crowd surfer during "Las Cruces Jail," which made me wonder is this fucking Warped Tour or something?

Finally it was time for the last show of the week, Matt and Kim at the Mohawk. I had only listened to them a few times and had never seen any live footage, so I didn't really know what I was getting myself into, but it turned out to be the only way I could have ended the festival, really. The show was the most danceable, kicked in the face five timesable show I've ever been to, and I loved every second of it. It lasted only 35 or so minutes, but those 35 minutes are ones I'll never forget. Walking out of the venue, I could hardly move I was so sore (and I think with two less ribs in my body thanks to a dude with big black leather boots and his crazy Karate Kid style dance moves). But it was all worth it. The show ended what was the best four days I've had in years, and if I could start it all over tomorrow, I wouldn't even think twice. Only 362 days to go.

See you next year...

Labels: Musical Crap, Pseudo-Reviews, SXSW, Things To Do

Brandon Hernsberger || Link || E-mail || 0 comments

Damn, I'm beat. Not because I spent today trudging around Austin in the hot, hot sun, mind you, but because I spent today kiddie birthday party-hopping, hitting two exhausting, extremely loud gatherings of munchkins in one long, long afternoon. I managed to overdose pretty severely on frosting, greasy pizza, bouncy castles, and Hannah Montana, all in the span of about five hours.

Which is pretty sad, really, but after last night I don't feel that bad about it -- who needs Austin, anyway? I managed to coerce/cajole buddy Jowell into coming over to Midtown with me to check out the Teenage Bottlerocket/The Femurs/Broadway Calls/Something Fierce/Teenage Kicks show at The Mink and happily walked away reassured that even when SXSW is on, the rest of the musical universe doesn't just stop moving. I've got some pics of the show below, with a few more up here for anybody who's interested.

Teenage Kicks

First off, I'm now heartily jealous of anybody who lives in the Montrose or along the Midtown edge of the Main corridor; that one block-long section of Main St. that includes The Mink, The Continental Club, Sig's Lagoon, The Big Top, Tacos A-Go-Go, & Julia's is an awe-inducing chunk of condensed coolness these days, not to mention one of the few areas in town where you can -- hey, imagine that! -- actually walk from one music venue (sorry, but dance clubs downtown don't count) to another. It was fucking cool to be able to step out of the show for a minute (more on that in a sec) to drag my fellow showgoer over to Sig's to gaze in awe at the copies of Down in Houston they've got for sale (one of which I will be buying someday soon), meander over to see who's playing at The Continental, and then head back in to catch the rest of the show.

And what a show it was. Despite a somewhat low turnout at the beginning and some technical difficulties w/a bass cabinet that'd been dropped down the stairs earlier on, local boys Teenage Kicks utterly ripped the floor off the Backroom, proving to be probably the highlight of the night, at least for me. You wouldn't think it to look at 'em, but they do a ridiculously good job of channeling the spirit & fire of late-'70s punk/pop, stuff like The Buzzcocks, The Undertones, The Boys, or The Jam, and trust me, I don't throw around comparisons like that lightly.

I'm still somewhat in shock that a trio of guys who look like they're young enough to be students are able to spit out snarling-yet-poppy tracks like "Bound For Glory" or "Electric Girl," but hell, there it is. Plus, the banter & occasional string-changing gave the whole thing a down-to-earth feel that was pretty entertaining, like we'd all just happened into a really, really together, on-fire band practice or something. Picked up a copy of their new demo, so look for a review of that sometime soon...

Something Fierce

Something Fierce took the stage next, looking somewhat tired but still, um, fierce -- Stephen G. said they were worn-out from a weird-ass outdoor house party show out in the hot Austin sun where the house itself was apparently so filthy the band was afraid they'd picked up scabies. (And if that ain't punk, well...) Even with the tiredness, though, the band rocked it, tearing through a some of Come For The Bastards and the 7" tracks, along with some newer(?) stuff I didn't know as well. "On Your Own" came off even better this time than the last time I saw SF play, and "Modern Girl" proves pretty much indisputably that these kids get better with every single thing they release, seriously.

My ears were ringing pretty badly by the time SF had finished, so I decided to make the aforementioned trip down to Sig's Lagoon & my car (for earplugs, although I somehow neglected to actually get them when I got back to the car...argh). Jowell & I ogled the CDs at Sig's, admiring the goofy books & such they sell, too, before we realized that hell, we'd better get back upstairs. Sadly, we missed all but the last two songs by Broadway Calls, which sucks, 'cause what we did hear actually sounded pretty good, quite a bit like the Alkaline Trio, whom I happen to really like. Dang.

The Femurs

Honestly, though, they weren't who I'd come to see -- the band I was most curious about had to be Seattle/NYC duo The Femurs, who I'd heard & fallen in love with pretty much just this past week. On disc the band comes off like a cross between The Ramones and The Beach Boys, all down-strummed acoustic power chords & earnest-boy vocal harmonies, but the live show turned out to lean heavily towards the Ramones side of the equation.

Rather than the ultra-clean guitars and pretty, amped-up love-lost melodies of Modern Mexico, the live Femurs were loud and distorted, so much so that it was hard to hear the harmonies and get past the full-on punk fury. Not that that's a bad thing, mind you, but I was kinda bummed that songs like "Crazy Girl" and "Not Giving Up" didn't have that nice sheen they had on the actual recording. I never thought I'd actually want a band to sound flat & jangly like a couple of coffeehouse bohos, but in this case, I think I do.

The nonstop, rapid-fire onstage banter between Rob & Colin Femur (friends since age 13, hence the witty repartee) made up for the over-distortion somewhat, and the band blew the doors off the place with "Crazy Girl" (distortion and all), "Plastic Swords," b-day song "September 1st," and "Peter Wolf" -- especially loved the Noo Yawk sneer on that last track. The vocals were a little rough at times, but all in all, it still worked for most of the set.

Sadly, at that point in the evening, yours truly had to bail and head for home; I'd promised the wife I wouldn't get home at or after 1AM, like usual. Sorry to the Teenage Bottlerocket guys -- I'm old & lame. sigh. On the way out, got to chat a bit with Austin/Houston-dweller Travis of He Said She Said Presents, finally meeting him for the first time after much email, and met Jon of Teenage Kicks, who also apparently runs the Always Summer Booking crew. Good people, both.

After that, Jowell & I wandered smiling & happy with the world out into the street, enthusing about the bands and dodging the light rail trains and the cops rousting some guy from Tacos A-Go-Go as we started to make our way on back to the near-'burbs of the Heights & Meyerland. Screw Austin; here in H-town, we make our own good times, and we don't need an industry lovefest to do it, right?

Labels: H-Town News, Live Reviews, Pseudo-Reviews, Random Rambling

gaijin || Link || E-mail || 0 comments

Thank god for tap shoes. But more on that later. Day three at sxsw was fucking strange. I've been trying and trying to think of ways to capture it for you guys, but I'm afraid I'm going to come up a bit short. Words won't do it. I'll try anyway. I know each day I come on here and complain about how awful it is to try and find a place to park in Austin (and it is awful), but yesterday something happened. I found a space within earshot of at least a dozen venues and I didn't have to pay one single cent for it. Let me back up. I didn't actually go downtown to see any day shows Friday--I spent my afternoon finding acts to see around town, which made the day show experience so much better, not having to deal with the crazy lines and crazier people (I'm talking to you, frat dude passed out in the street at 1:00 in the afternoon trying to score a free burrito). Anyway, I went over to Guadalupe (or Gwaudaloop if you want to sound Austin) to see a show which was originally supposed to be Two Gallants at Urban Outfitters (huh?) but ended up being Tall Firs (who?) at Cream Vintage. The point of this story is not the band, because I've already forgotten what they sound like--it's all about that parking space. It was literally fifteen or so feet from the venue (and part time vintage clothes store I assume--there were a lot of clothes and hangers and the what not), and get this; there were like two hours still left in the meter so I didn't have to make the long reach into my pocket to search for a dime. Score. And there was free beer, tons of it. Oh, and the port-a-potties smelled like popsicles. It was a very good way to start the weekend, and a good break from the chaos.

I went to see Noah and the Whale again at 5:00; they were playing at a small coffee shop on South Congress called Jo's. The show was, as you probably could have guessed, fantastic. I know this is the second time I've talked glowingly about Noah and the Whale, and there is a purpose for that. Go listen to them and you'll see why. I haven't been this excited about a band in years, and this afternoon show didn't dissapoint. They covered Daniel Johnston's "Devil Town" in front of what looked to be at least six or seven people deep. Why people are ignoring this band at this year's sxsw is confounding me. There will be regrets.

My day show schedule ended there, and now it was time for me to wait in line for Vampire Weekend. Here we go. I got there (Antone's) at around 6:45 (the first band didn't go on until 8:00; Vampire Weekend til 11:00) and there was already a line. There were people waiting there since three in the fucking afternoon. And it was 97 degrees yesterday. For Vampire Weekend. Yep. So finally I got in and found a spot in the front row middle. And then I waited. And waited. And then oh yeah, waited. The first band, Bear in Heaven, began promptly at 8:00 and ended promptly at 8:40. It's a shame a band that interesting has to open for a band where it seems like every member of the audience is just waiting for them to leave. It was sad, because Bear in Heaven is really good. It seemed, though, that the entire day and night was just about waiting for Vampire Weekend so I'll move on. Basia Balat was next, and again--so good. Lead singer Basia Balat (I'm pretty sure that's here name--she's adorable) sounds eerily similar to Tracy Chapman (though, I must admit, I don't know how that reference will be received, but whatever--she was good). Basia Balat covered Daniel Johnston's "True Love Will Find You in the End," and it made the wait for Vampire Weekend a little more tolerable. At 10:00, Foreign Born took to the stage and they were foreign boring so I won't say much about their guitar guitar vocal vocal blah blah performance. The lead singer did have wicked nice teeth, though, so that's something.

And then there was Vampire Weekend. The wait was over. They got on stage and it was like the fucking Beatles, I swear to god. I don't know how to describe the scene, but in all the years I've been going to shows and festivals like this one I've never seen anything like it. Ever. And it was mostly 13 or 14 year old girls screaming at the top of their lungs, knowing things about the guys in the band that probably shouldn't be known. It was surreal. I knew that these guys were big, I just didn't know they were this big. I don't want to sound like one of those cynical music writers that seems to hate whatever's big at the moment, but for real, come on. Really? The show was good, but not great. Certainly not worthy of the hype, and absolutely positively not worthy of the six hour wait. I could go on for pages and pages about this show and about how confused I am about this phenomenon, but I'll save that for another time. I have a few theories about it, but I'm still trying to work out the kinks. It seems, though, that America has its Arctic Monkeys. Sigh.

Which brings me to the tap shoes. I went to see Tilly and the Wall at 1:00, ending my night. I've seen them probably ten times over the past three years, and I think it's impossible for them to give a performance that's not memorable. They're energy is infectious, and Jamie (the tap dancer) makes the audience go crazy with her akimbo arms and pony-tailed smile. Tilly and the Wall saved the night for me after the Vampire Weekend out of control extravaganza.

And then I didn't get to sleep until 5 in the morning because I didn't really have a place to stay until a friend of mine saved me by offering me his floor. And it smelled like garlic.

I'm off...See you Sunday.

Labels: Musical Crap, Pseudo-Reviews, SXSW

Brandon Hernsberger || Link || E-mail || 1 comments

Tried to get this up last night after watching more episodes than intended of Jericho Season 1 on DVD -- just couldn't shut the damn TV off, somehow -- and I couldn't do it; sorry, y'all, for this being a bit down-to-the-wire. sigh... I wanted to make absolute damn sure to get some new reviews online today, at the very latest, specifically so I could rant & rave about holy-fuck-they're-good pop-punk-folk duo The Femurs. I must confess that I'd initially set the band's album, Modern Mexico, aside for one of our writers after a cursory listen (this is what you do when you're the editor, yo), and only picked it up again when I saw the band listed on the schedule for tonight up at The Mink.

And dear lord, am I glad I did. Having the CD spinning near-continously for the past three days or so has almost made me feel less like the heel of The Man has crushed me down this week, and that's a very, very nice thing. The Brothers Femur (not their real name, obviously) play a desperate-sounding, fast, impassioned (but not, mind you, emo) kind of folk-pop with totally "clean" guitars, driving rhythms, a smart-guy smirk, and the best, most picture-perfect pop sensibility sense, well, Fountains of Wayne. The songs these two guys throw out are smart and romantic without the irony, sweet and beautiful and head-nod-inducing all at the same time. They're like The Ramones, if The Ramones listened to a hell of a lot of Jonathan Richman or Nick Lowe. I could go on and on, but instead I'll aim you towards the brand-new review, up here.

Now, of course, I'm struck by a terrible dilemma -- hang out with the fam at the house this evening, like I'd initially planned, or risk my wife's displeasure by bailing and running over to The Mink to catch the band, along with cool-as-fuck locals Something Fierce & Teenage Kicks, as well as headliners Teenage Bottlerocket & Broadway Calls. So basically, I have to choose between an evening of catchy, garagey pop-punk heaven and, uh, marital bliss. Dammit...

Anyway, we do have some more new reviews up, as well; sorry to get off-track, there. On top of the Femurs disc, there're also reviews of a cool new album by The Milwaukees, the long-awaited full-length from Chris Thile's Punch Brothers project, and a solo disc from ex-Erase Erratta frontwoman Jenny Hoyston (who, sadly, was scheduled to play this week but had to cancel due to illness striking down one of her band members). Good stuff, all, I swear. And if I can bolt myself back to the computer at some point later on this weekend, there'll be a couple pretty new live reviews up here, too, so check back for that. Here's the whole deal for now, though:

Reviews: The Femurs; The Milwaukees;