The Greatest Super Bowl Ever?

It's a close contest between Super Bowl XXV and Super Bowl XLII. I remember lying in my parents bed seventeen years ago watching Scott Norwood's kick sail wide, and I don't know if it could compare to watching Eli Manning miraculously lead his offense downfield to a game-winning touchdown. Absolutely incredible.

Last night Ilya and I ducked in Echo Curio to watch La Otracina melt faces for about 45 or 50 minutes. Their set commenced with a two-guitar squall set against what could only be described as a free-jazz drum exhibition. It was haphazard, but almost instantaneously the band switched gears and launched into a classic, unrelenting space rock groove. After waiting several minutes for it to kick in, I quickly realized why I fell so deeply in love with the band's Tonal Ellipse Of The One (ranked the #3 album of 2007, read my original review of the album here). Back then, I wrote about the album: "La Otracina intend to envelop the listener in massive swaths of sound...Free, loose space-rock complete with dive-bombing synthesizer tone bends and monumental feedback swells. The musicians are masters of restraint, and for the sundry noises which make up these tracks, it never sounds like overkill...A nod to all things free; totally blissed-out, bending and weaving, dynamic celestial jamming." They sounded like an instrumental mash-up of Sabbath and Hawkwind. So fucking good.

And now, we have less than two weeks until pitchers and catchers report to Spring Training. As I wave goodbye to football season, there is absolutely no sadness in the gesture. It is pure excitement as I prepare for a grueling baseball season. I cannot wait for Opening Day. But more on that as March 31st (versus the Marlins, in Miami) approaches...

Tags: La Otracina, Echo Curio, Echo Park, Los Angeles, Super Bowl XLII, Tonal Ellipse Of The One, Black Sabbath, Hawkwind, baseball, Mets, Spring Training, mp3, blog, download

Snooze-Inducing News From Across The Internet

• Someone who is as obsessed, if not more obsessed with soda pop than I am compiled a list of the top ten discontinued sodas. He or she must be older than I am, since I don't recall products like Coke II, Hubba Bubba, or well...just about anything on that list other than Crystal Pepsi, Slice and the Orbitz drink. If I had a chance to make a list, it would have to include things like the original Jolt Cola (before they got all gay and changed into an energy drink company), Pepsi Kona (only tested in the Lehigh Valley during '94-'96, it was given to me by a camp counselor -- it was awfulsome -- so bad it was good), and Crystal Pepsi. That stuff actually wasn't bad. It was like clear ginger ale or something. I don't see what the big deal was. [story]

• CNN, late to get in on this whole "Top Ten" craze I started, has come up with a list of "Five things not to do in the ER." Suprisingly, their list includes, "Don't forget to call your doctor on the way to the ER," "Don't use an ambulance unless you really need it," and "Don't forget the phone." If I had to come up with a list of five things not to do in an emergency room, it would include things like, "Don't steal any of the high-powered drugs," (because Fentynal can kill you if you're not prepared for how fucking good it is) "Don't hit on fellow patients," and "Resist the urge to grab the triage nurse and hold her at scalpel-point if you're frustrated by the wait time." Those seem way more poignant than shit like, "Don't lie about your symptoms." [story]

• A website I've never heard of before came up with a list of what they believe are the ten weirdest things that most people don't know are available for purchase through Amazon.com (in the interest of full disclosure, I should inform you that I have an account with Amazon that pays me something like $0.20 if you buy an album by clicking through the "buy this album" links I sometimes post). These include items like a book of 55,000 accurate celebrity addresses, a hands-on guide to penis pleasing, gay attraction body mist, stink bombs, uranium ore, and something called "liquid ass fart." [story]

• As if you haven't seen enough top ten lists today, here are (apparently) a top ten list of craziest science stuff you didn't know, which unfortunately includes plenty of things I already know. Who on earth doesn't know about post-death erections, alien hand syndrome, fatal hilarity and male breast-feeding. I thought that was pretty common knowledge that's available to us in the forms of books and science-related television programs. Clearly whoever wrote this list is both a hermit and moron. [story]

• Someone has decided that January 30th is International Delete Your MySpace Account day. Are you in? [story]

Earlier this week, my manager informed me that David "Honeyboy" Edwards was going to be performing at a bar called Cozy's this weekend, so last night Nicci and I drove to Sherman Oaks to witness what was truly an awe-inspiring spectacle. While it certainly wasn't the best technical performance I've ever witness (Honeyboy is about 93-years old, so his guitar-playing skills have diminished considerably, as has his ability to keep his instrument in tune), the combination of his immense stage presence and the historical importance of being able to say I've watched one of the original Delta Blues guitarists made it an experience I'll always remember.

Tags: soda pop, cola, discontinued, coke 2, hubba hubba, crystal pepsi, cnn, lists, amazon.com, weird, science, oddities, delete your myspace, david edwards, honeyboy, cozy's, blues bar, concert, delta blues, mp3, blog, download

Radiohead Sucks, Afrobeat Rules, The Gays Love Me

Ha ha! Only 38% of downloaders paid for the new Radiohead album, and the largest percentage of those people paid less than $4 for it. I guess that's what you get for recording terrible music! I don't have any way of calculating how much money this farce netted the band, but I'm willing to bet it's not nearly close the previously-reported $1.2 million. Also, the CD version of the atrocious In Rainbows will quite possibly be released on the label owned by Dave Matthews. Yeah, so...Radiohead. Oh well. We'll always have The Bends!

I apologize for yesterday's cheap entry. I was gone all day and had only a short while to put something together, so I took the easy way out (easier than suicide, even) and shared a piece of my old shitty stream-of-consciousness free-writing. I hope it didn't piss you off too much.

...Fun times last night. Rob, Sari and I packed away some bourbon in our bellies and went over to Echo Curio to catch a show, then headed down the street to Little Joy to continue the drunk festivities. At the gallery, Robedoor performed a short set in the back room. They sounded as they normally do. The next band, Cex Fucx, put on a fantastic performance. They reminded me of the Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra. Really great, groovy music with heavy beats. Two drummers, a percussionist, a keyboardist, guitar, bass, singer, and two saxophones. We danced.

The night also provided a hilarious side-story involving an older, Hispanic gentleman who was of the homosexual persuasion. I recognized him instantly as the guy who tried to pick up Nick at The Smell last month by inviting him back to his place "to watch some movies" (gay porn). He sidled over to our little trio outside the gallery and instantly began to make insinuations about Rob, Sari and I being swingers, and maybe we wanted to party with him? Well, at first we had a good time chiding him and egging him on, but this lost its luster right around the time he pulled Rob aside and asked about "his dorky friend" (me), and did he think [I] would let him suck me off. Well, that ended our stay at the Curio. We briskly walked to the bar, got ourselves a table and had some deep, drunken conversations about life, love, and all sorts of beautiful things. It was a bonding experience. Then Phoebe showed up and asked if I wanted to walk her to the liquor store so she could buy some smokes. We too had a lovely talk as we made our way back down the street. After loitering outside talking to Dana, the drummer from Cex Fucx, Phoebe disappeared inside the liquor store. Then, who emerged just as she exited but my little homosexual friend. He offered me a handful potato chips, then asked if I had a big dick. Without answering (a gentleman never asks and a lady never tells!), I asked what his name was, and then addressed him by name, telling him that although I was not offended by his advances, nor did I think ill of his way of life, I was not going to engage him in this conversation or any other, not now or at any time in the future. I told him if he ever saw me again, do not approach me or my friends. He apologized and said something about having to catch a bus. Then Phoebe walked over, put her arm around my neck, pinched my ass, and we walked back to the bar together without looking back. I thought I handled the situation well. Then I came home and Sari made nachos and tucked me in on the couch, where I for some reason continue to pass out night after night.

Tags: Radiohead, Radiohead sucks, In Rainbows, Dave Matthews, Echo Curio, Echo Park, Robedoor, Cex Fucx, Antibalas, homosexual encounter, Little Joy, Sunset, cruising, mp3, blog, download

Oren Ambarchi / Damon & Naomi / Boris @ Echoplex

But first...fun with late-night CNN headlines!



Oh, Carlos D. I knew it was only a matter of time before your sexual indiscretions (story halfway down the page) finally caught up with you! Does anyone remember when the car broke down at Curiosa and we watched Carlos D. pile into a wagon filled with underaged chunky girls in the wee hours of the morning? That was the highlight of my night!

I was having a nice conversation with Ian last night about something that was probably of no interest to anybody other than the two of us, when I decided to double check what time the doors opened at Echoplex. To my surprise, they had opened at 7:00. I raced over there and found Australian avant-noisemaker Oren Ambarchi had just began his opening set.



The last time I saw Oren was when he was opening for Sunn O))) at the Avalon in New York last year. Perhaps it was that venues atrocious sound system, but I enjoyed his sonic manifestations much, much more this time. He sat behind a large table which was littered with portable mixers and effects processors. More pedals were strewn around his feet beneath the table. He sat with his guitar propped on his knee, occasionally milking a note from the instrument, but mostly twirling knobs and building walls of noise that were as far removed as possible from anything a guitar could ever emit. Watching him work is like watching a mad scientist hovering over beakers and burners, blending vibrant-colored mixtures to form abstract concoctions.

Between sets, I wandered over to the merch table. I only had six dollars in my pocket after the Maker's, so I couldn't afford anything. Boris actually had the gall to bring along some of the Rainbow LP box sets, which they're selling for $245 a pop. I'd like to know what kind of asshole shows up to a rock club with that much cash burning a hole in his pocket, so that I can mug the bastard and pay my rent without having to grovel.

I love me some Galaxie 500, but I've never been able to get into Damon and Naomi. It seems like music that should be right up my alley: bleak, dejected, dreamy pop songs. Nevertheless, I found myself slightly disappointed by their set last evening. The duo performed with a cellist, a soprano saxophone, and Michio Kurihara. Together they found sporadic moments of brilliance throughout their set, but there was nothing that would make me re-think my stance on their albums. I give them credit for their excellent stage presence, though. Lively banter with the crowd can save even the most dreadful of performances. The fact that I forgot to snap even one picture during their set should hint at how enthralled I was. I guess I was too busy giggling at the inappropriate text messages I was scribing.



Boris and Michio Kurihara ascended the steps of a smoke-covered stage shortly after 11:00, and proceeded to treat a tightly-packed audience to 90 minutes of epic doom metal, heavy psychedelic rock, and ambient melancholia. It was by far the best and most fascinating of the four Boris performances I've seen. Only a handful of recognizable tunes ("Pink," "Rainbow", "Just Abandoned Myself", "Farewell", and two or three more) roared from the group's amplifiers. The majority of the set was devoted to new material or collaborative tracks with Michio. The highlight was what could only be described as a twenty-minute classic psychedelic rock exploration. What began as a wistful, plaintive tune sung by Takeshi exploded into a the heaviest of heavy anthems, highlighted by furious, dueling guitar solos from Wata and Michio. I don't think I have anything else to add. Boris melt faces. Go see them. Bring earplugs to protect your babies (that's a nickname we sonic purveyors have for our ears)!

The rest of the photographs from the concert will soon be uploaded to the main Swanfungus website, right after I get some lunch and return from the market (I'm out of bagels! I'M OUT OF BAGELS!). They can be found in the concert photography section: home of the retarded community's answer to Annie Leibovitz.

Last, but not least, an awesome Panorama from the Joshua Tree trip has been stitched together by the lovely kT Evans. Click to enlarge:

Tags: CNN headlines, Carlos D, sexual indiscretions, Echoplex, Sunset Blvd, Los Angeles, Oren Ambarchi, Damon and Naomi, Boris, Michio Kurihara, concert, Takeshi, Wata, panorama, Joshua Tree

Jesu @ Amoeba / Wolves In The Throne Room @ Relax Bar

A jam packed Friday if ever there was one. I received an early morning phone call inviting me to Sherman Oaks to drive Lyz to the airport with her friend. I showered and dressed, and quickly realized I was out of one of my medications. Placed a call that I thought was reaching the Costco in Los Feliz, but it was actually the Burbank location. I tried in vain to get them to switch the order to Los Feliz, but it took them several hours to figure out how to take my refill out of their system and place it in another system. By the time everything got straightened out and I began the drive to Sherman Oaks, it was close to 3:00pm. I raced to get Lyz and her friend to the flyaway, then sped back to Hollywood for the Jesu in-store at Amoeba.

I arrived with a few minutes to spare, and grabbed a nice spot in front of the stage. The guy next to me was flipping through records and talking about black metal bands, so I asked if he was going to be attending the show at Relax Bar later that night. He said he couldn't even though he really wanted to, and we got to talking about various bands. Apparently he runs his own label, called Dwell, which I think operates out of Northern California. The kid standing to my left was something of a Jesu superfan. He kept talking my ear off about how he owned everything on multiple formats, and really wanted the band to sign a poster, but he didn't know where to get one. He kept talking about how he'd flown out from Boston, and although he denied this trip was specifically to see this show, I figured he was lying.. Then he started asking questions, like where he could find the new EP, whether it was also on CD, did I like the t-shirts, and was it weird to ask a band to sign a t-shirt. Needless to say, when an older woman asked if she could grab a spot in the area, I offered to let her stand directly to my left.

Jesu put on a good set. Their fuzzy dreamy industrial pop music came across about as well as it could in a live setting. They played a number of songs I recognized (I don't know names, but they definitely played the first two tracks on Conqueror). The sound was decent -- probably could have been louder, but certainly thick and heavy enough to help one achieve a moderately heightened state. The laptop battery died right at the end of a song, so there was slight delay before the dream metal onslaught continued. The show lasted slightly over forty minutes. I did not stick around to buy the new EP, get the limited edition poster, or have the band sign anything. I wanted to get a bite to eat before I headed over to Relax Bar for Wolves in the Throne Room.

Greco New York Style Pizza on Hollywood and Cahuenga. Excellent. Finally, a slice of real fucking pizza in Los Angeles. It only took six months to find. The place had slices bigger than my head, and for some reason I ordered two. Actually, I know the reason -- I hadn't eaten all day. Gorged and ready to rock, I drove over to the pub.

The first band I saw was called Manslaughter. They're fronted by a female guitarist who makes me really ashamed of my own guitar-playing abilities. The best song they played was their last, which began with a very psychedelic noodling session before abruptly transforming into full-on anthemic metal. The next band was called Laser Swords of Death. They were interesting. They filled the entire room up with fog and brought the metal, heavily. Anyone with a band whose name is as cool as "Laser Swords of Death" is going to have my full-fledged support, even if I don't like the music they create.

The only other kid in the room not wearing black was sitting next to me while Wolves In The Throne Room began to set up their equipment. He mentioned how he'd driven to San Diego last night only to find that the band didn't make it due to car troubles. I silently thanked God that I didn't choose to go to the show last night. We talked about music for a few minutes and before I knew it, it had been forty minutes and the band still wasn't ready to begin their set. They took extraordinarily long to prepare for the show. There were PA problems, as the one closest to my head kept overloading and distorting. The band didn't seem phased by this, and decided to stop sound-checking and just start playing. They offered three songs that lasted somewhere between thirty and forty minutes. At times it was beautiful and at times a little grating (the vocals), but overall I was quite impressed by their performance. Some very cool, buried melodies beneath the bottomless muck and blackness. At times psychedelic, even. Fantastic show.

And then I went over to Ilya's, somewhat drunk and looking to drink more. Phoebe taught me how to speak some phrases in Wolof, such as "deedeet y" (no, really), "damay dem lekk" (I am hungry), and "damay tang" (I am hot). She said my accent was excellent, I actually sounded Senegalese. I then proceeded to say those three sentences over and over for the next two hours. Because I was hungry, I am always hot, and I always answer every question with an affirmative "no!"

The photo credits belong to two people on Flickr. For some reason my Internet connection keeps crashing when I try to upload my photos.

Tags: Sherman Oaks, airport, Costco, Los Feliz, Jesu, in-store, Amoeba, Relax Bar, Dwell, record label, Conqueror, Wolves In The Throne Room, Greco New York Style Pizza, Hollywood, Cahuenga, Manslaughter, psychedelic, Laser Swords Of Death, black metal, Wolof, Senegalese, mp3, blog, download

Conspiracy Theories, Droughts, Losers, Vaginal Rejuvenation, Japanese Noise Rock

• A catastrophe is approaching, people! Repent! Repent! Information Liberation reported on the 27th of August that an entity or individual is betting on massive dislocation to occur in the market before September 21st, to the tune of $4.5 billion. The same type of bet was placed six years ago on all the airlines which were targeted on September 11th, 2001, but information was never released as to who placed that bet. According to the website, "clearly someone knows something big is going to happen before the options expire on Sept. 21." They go on to predict either a massive terrorist attack that would tank the markets, or China is going to "dump US currency and tank all of Capitalism with a Communist financial revolution." Yeah, whatever. Doubtful. We'll see what happens. We're six days away. Everybody panic. [story]

• This just in from ABC News: A drought in Kentucky is taking its toll on their marijuana crop. Last year police eradicated 488,502 plants (worth nearly $1 billion), and this year they have only found 299,220 plants. In other news, the government must be really angry that they don't get a cut of that billion dollars. Angry enough to...say, continue fighting a battle they can't win? [story]

• Leave it to CNN to write a story about how winning $315 million was the worst thing that could ever happen to somebody. This poor, rich asshole is crying about how he doesn't have any friends, and that "even money can't cure cancer." First of all, the reason you don't have any friends is because after winning all that money you drank and you gambled and you philandered. You were involved in 460 legal actions, and by the looks of things you pretty much deserved them all. Second of all, maybe money can cure cancer. How about you give the $93 million lump sum you received and donate it to cancer research, asshole. Don't fucking gamble it away or drink it away, don't let friends borrow from you, do something constructive and quit feeling sorry for yourself. I sure as hell don't. [story]

• Sarah Barry, your article has the cutest, most awful headline I've ever read. She says social networking websites have gone "from mainstream to 'lame'stream!" Hahahahahaha. I didn't read the article, but I can guarantee you, she isn't saying anything that hasn't been said about Facebook and MySpace that hasn't been said millions of times before. People have short attention spans. Bring on the next new thing. [story]

• This just in from MSNBC: Vaginal rejuvenation is both unnecessary and unsafe. The article states, "Many women don't realize that the appearance of external genitals varies significantly from woman to woman." What, you mean women don't also whip out their genitals in public restrooms and sword-fight their friends just to sneak a peek at their gear? I guess they really are from Venus! [story]

• Man Takes Pictures of Tokyo Skyscrapers For 35 Years, Puts Them Into 10-Second Stop Motion Clip. [story]

• TIME, the magazine responsible for lists pertaining to every single topic imaginable, has tackled the 100 Best TV Shows of all-TIME (get it? it's punny, right?). Noticeably absent from the list: Home Movies, Futurama, CSI, and The Pick-Up Artist. [story]

• A review of 400 scientific papers has drawn the conclusion that eating organic food is not necessarily healthier for you. Even though organic advocates claim that there is more nutritional value in organic products, oftentimes these compounds are naturally occurring pesticides, which can be dangerous to handle or consume. One study followed the growth of plums on adjacent organic/conventional fields, and the latter actually contained 38% more beneficial compounds than its organic counterpart. As far as sustainability is concerned, "An 11-year farming experiment by the U.S. Department of Agriculture in Beltsville, Maryland, compared crops grown three ways: conventional tillage, organic methods, or no-till. Compared to the conventional tilled plot, the organic plot was likely to hang on to 30 per cent more soil. But compared to the organic plot, the no-till plot hung on to 80 per cent more soil." So, there you have it. Shopping at Whole Foods and Trader Joe's isn't worth it, even if their prepared foods are really, really delicious compared to the TGI Fridays mozzarella sticks and Tombstone pizzas offered at your local chain grocery store. [story]

I went to The Smell last night to see Pocahaunted and Suishou No Fune. I skipped the first band of the night. Pocohaunted sounded really nice with the addition of a drummer (electronic drums) and one of the fellows who plays in Robedoor. I think. Ilya said they sounded like a "No Wave Cranberries". A band called Ancestors blew my ears off with their low-end heaviness. Expect good things from them. Their sound falls somewhere between The Melvins and Harvey Milk. The guitarist plays through one of the vintage EH Octave Multiplexer pedals into a Matamp Blue stack that was deafening. I couldn't decide if "Melvins Milk" or "Harvey Melvin" was a better name for them. Suishou No Fune were equally loud, maybe even louder. The drummer from Ancestors joined them as they meandered their way through two songs over the course of an hour. The difference between them and Ancestors was that Suishou No Fune's sound, while being absurdly loud, was also very trebly and grating. I had to leave after a while and listen from the front room. The quieter parts were quite beautiful, as I anticipated. I picked up a copy of their tour-only CD. It's really good.

Tags: Information Liberation, massive dislocation, September 11th, ABC News, Kentucky, drought, marijuana, war on drugs, CNN, lottery winner, bad luck, Sarah Barry, social networking, MySpace, Facebook, MSNBC, vaginal rejuvination, Tokyo skyscrapers, stop motion, TIME magazine, list, 100 Best TV Shows of all time, scientific papers, organic food, health benefits, USDA, Trader Joe's, Whole Foods, TGI Fridays, The Smell, Los Angeles, Pocahaunted, Suishou No Fune, Ancestors, mp3, blog, download

Monsturo / Eye Myth / Vodka Soap / Robedoor / Tomutonttu / Joseph Hammer @ Echo Curio

A bunch of lonesome nerds, drone, and noise fans (and myself) gathered in the curiosity shop for some weird psychedelic noisemakers last evening. The night began with a short piece from a guy who went by the moniker Monsturo. He built a deafening, thunderous feedback swell that threatened to knock artwork off the walls. He cut his maelstrom short upon noticing the overwhelming scent of burning electronics emanating from a particular PA cabinet had filled the room. What a cool way to start the evening!

A few minutes later, in the cramped back room of the shop, the duo Eye Myth shared their brand of effects-heavy noise. While one guy channeled chirping high frequencies that caused some of those in attendance to jam their fingers into their ears, the other guy handled the low-end. His swirling, growling sounds made me laugh, as they sounded like Chewbacca crying out in an echo chamber.



Third act of the evening was Vodka Soap, which is the solo project of James Ferraro of The Skaters, a group whose made a lot of noise (pun intended!) on this site for releasing countless awesome albums, my favorite of which is Crowned Purple Gowns. His set was fantastically out-there. He showed wearing short-shorts, a peach-colored, button-down t-shirt and a multi-colored lei. The table where his Line6 DL4, ghetto-blaster and broken keyboards sat was adorned with plants and a stuffed camel holding sticks of incense. He sat in a chair covered in a beach towel depicting a caricature of a Rastafarian fellow surrounded by pot leaves. His set was like a jungle trance drone. Intense, intense, intense. For a great article about The Skaters, read this. After his set, I listened as James described the contents of several new cassettes he had made. That alone was worth the price of admission.



Next up was Robedoor in the small back room. I've written about them before, and seen them a few times now. They always put on a really good show. They sound like plates shifting miles below the earth's surface. Steadily building to a peak, pounding a mammoth tribal drum rhythm, collapsing into nothingness. Musical deconstructionism. I guess everybody already knows this whole experimental noise/drone thing is, at its roots, a punk movement. That shouldn't be a big surprise. I guess what I'm saying is, Robedoor has the right idea.



A very brief break, and then it was Tomutonttu (also known as Jan Anderzen, or Kemialliset Ystavat), who put on an equally powerful and transcendent showcase of his lysergic electronic manipulations. Totally minimal, abstract psychedelia with barely audible nods to some kraut influences. I don't know how one guy can be responsible for so many great recordings, but I tip my cap to Mr. Anderzen and wish him continued success in his search for ultimate sonic bliss.

Last, but certainly not least, was Joseph Hammer. Masterful real-time analog tape loop manipulations (done by hand, with one white glove) aided by computers and other electronics from a guy who has collaborated with numerous Los Angeles Free Music Society members including LAFMS founder Joe Potts. The guy was fascinating to watch. Like I said, masterful.

Afterwards, I walked to Little Joy with Ilya (who'd shown up just in time to leave!) and hung out there for a while. Some dufus in horrific tight jeans befriended us and got us talking with another little group of people, but the entire time I was steeped in conversation I couldn't shake the comment Ilya made about how I used to wear pants as tight as that guy was wearing. What a buzzkill.

Tags: nerds, drone, noise rock, Echo Curio, Echo Park, Los Angeles, Monsturo, Eye Myth, Vodka Soap, James Ferraro, The Skaters, Robedoor, Tomutonttu, Jan Anderzen, Kemialliset Ystavat, LAFMS, Los Angeles Free Music Society, Joe Potts, Little Joy, buzzkill, booze, mp3, blog, download

Useless Story Plus Molina-N-Co.

Remember back in April when I posted several stories about the crippling bee shortage that was taking the world by storm? Or, should I say, swarm? No? Okay. There were stories about cellular phone radiation and its relationship to bee extinction, and the New York Times even went so far as to assume a loss of bees would mean an inability to pollinate crops. Then stories starting popping up about how Einstein was quoted as saying once the bee population was extinct, humans would have only forty years before we were extinct. These were combated by articles about how there was a fungus that was attacking hives, and about how the Einstein quote has never been attributed to him (and probably isn't true). Well, I think I found out where all the bees went. They went on vacation to Katy, TX and crashed at some woman's house. Exterminators and pest control found half a million bees (and perhaps as many as six queen bees), some of which were Africanized, and removed 500 pounds of honey from the walls of her house. [story]

The theory about bee extinction leading to human extinction carries about as much weight as the idiotic belief that the year 2012 is going to be our last. I was at the bookstore last week and I saw a prominently displayed new book which reviews various predictions and argued that it was entirely possible that dangerous solar storms, cosmic rays, hurricanes, global warming, earthquakes and super-volcanoes are all on the verge of destroying the earth that year. Yeah, whatever. Everybody panic.

Ilya and I went to check out Magnolia Electric Co. at the Echo last night. There was a large hummer limo parked out in front of the club, and as we walked over I made a biting remark about how it probably belonged to the douchebag leaning against the exterior of the club in a cowboy hat. Upon closer inspection, that douchebag turned out to be Jason Molina. Oops! I think I said something about his attire making him looking like a gay frenchman on safari. The show was good, as all Molina shows are. Even his blander songs usually sound better in person than they do on record. He closed with a stretched-out rendition of "I've Been Riding With The Ghost." That was the first time I've been to the Echo on a night when the crowd was dressed mostly in jeans and t-shirts, not like they were posing as homeless runaways or vapid attention whores. Ilya hit the nail on the head when he noted, "some of the girls here tonight don't have bangs!"

Tags: bees, shortage, cellular phone radiation, extinction, New York Times, Einstein, forty years, Katy Texas, half a million bees, Africanized, 2012, Mayan calendar, cosmic rays, solar storms, hurricanes, global warming, earthquakes, super-volcanoes, Magnolia Electric Co., The Echo, Echo Park, Los Angeles, Jason Molina, concert, world news, mp3, blog, download

Upsilon Acrux / Entrance / Greg Ashley @ Fuck Yeah Fest (Day 1)

Until Ilya reminded me, I forgot that this weekend was Fuck Yeah Fest. For those of you who don't know what I am referring to, there's a music and comedy festival that happens right here in Echo Park. Of course, the fact that I completely failed to remember it was happening should clue you in to the quality of the performers scheduled to appear at any of the five neighborhood venues. I decided to walk over and join the festivities at 6:30 so I could buy my pass and catch the first band I wanted to see.

Upsilon Acrux @ The Echo

I heard about the Vista, CA band Upsilon Acrux from someone who touted their technical mastery and intricate prog-rock style. I found their record Last Pirates Of Upsilon, and from the first moments of "Numbquon" I was fascinated. Their set last evening was the brutal polyrhythmic mindfuck I imagined it would be. Two guitarists with flawless two-handed tapping techniques, a keyboardist running his Moog through a Roland Space Echo and an ferocious drummer. [listen to "Metal Tweek-Desert High/Days of Meth"]

Wooden Shjips @ The Rec Center
I know there was something I wanted to say about Wooden Ships, but I can't remember it at this very moment. Oh, wait. Now I remember. Their keyboardist looked like the dug-up remains of Chris Penn.

Entrance @ The Rec Center

Lucky for us, Guy Blakeslee decided to take a few minutes out of his busy schedule of psilocybin and under-aged girls to drive down from Devendra's place in the hills and regale us with his psychedelic blues show. He, Paz, and the drummer in the hat easily put on the best show of the night. Deep, heavy grooves and wild, Hendrix-infused guitar squealing highlighted the overdriven blues style which serves to make Prayer Of Death such a great record. Sometimes I wonder if he'll return to the stripped-down Wandering Stranger sound, but then I see him with the full band and realize he's much better suited for explosive lysergic jams than too-stoned-to-stand-up acoustic lopes. "We have albums, shirts, and American flags for sale. Only, our American flags have, 'Real Americans resist fascism! Revolutionaries are the only true patriots!' written on them. They cost twenty-five dollars, and I'll use the money buy some ganja in honor of you." Thanks, Guy! [listen to "Pretty Baby"]

Greg Ashley @ The Rec Center

Stripped down Greg Ashley is a lot different than hearing him with his Medicine Fuck Dream band. He put on a good show, but it didn't have any of the psych atmosphere of his records. Instead, he sounded like your run-of-the-mill acoustic crooner singing pop songs. The melancholia was there, but none of the fuzzy, painkiller-euphoria of his studio efforts. I think he closed with a Gris Gris song, because it was up-tempo, and several people responded to it with claps and "woot"s. I've never listened to Gris Gris, but the song was nice. [listen to "Caroline and the Orange Tree"]

Comedy Show @ Taix
After Ashley finished, I walked over to Taix for the comedy show. It was densely packed when I arrived, and in the twenty or thirty minutes before the show began the room swelled even more. The show's host was a Josh Fadem, who--along with his friend Matt Dwyer--Steve and I spent an afternoon joking around with at Downbeat a few months ago. For a comedian he's a pretty funny guy, if you can believe it. He controlled the crowd well, asking people to pelt him with objects and get the boos out of their systems. The first comic was... I don't remember his name. He began with an announcement that, "A bearded, horn-rimmed glasses wearing guy in a cowboy shirt is stealing a fixed-gear bike out front," which received several laughs from those in attendance who did not fit that description. He then proceeded to joke about hipsters, Silverlake, music nerds, and irony. The girl standing across from me with the tattoos and the boyfriend wearing the fedora didn't laugh once. The combination of a loud-mouthed joker and an audience filled with self-conscious hipsters ensured the nervous tension in the room was quite palpable. Bob Odenkirk stood up and compounded things by opening with, "Congratulations. You won. You were accepted to be in a new American Apparel ad. All of you." He was brief, made a few jokes, and then disappeared, as did 90% of the crowd. Next up was Matt Dwyer, who dropped some one-liners, then spent the remainder of his time insulting a heckler. By now the room had pretty much emptied, and the few people that remained seemed to really enjoy the ribbing he gave the audience member. There were some funny lines in there, about "I don't give a fuck who you know at Touch and Go or Matador," or "I don't work, I wake up late and get drunk with David Yow, what the fuck do you do, guy? Enjoy your nine-to-five and shitty pussy." Good stuff. Hari Leigh was next. I saw her at the Tomorrow Show a few months back. Funny and cute. Her last little bit about our country getting dumber was quite poignant. More good stuff.

It was all good. I left when it ended. I'm not going back today, because I see no point in paying for another full-price pass just to watch Jay Reatard blow everyone away. I'm going to watch the Mets/Dodgers game somewhere.

Tags: Fuck Year Fest, Echo Park, Los Angeles, Upsilon Acrux, The Echo, progressive rock, Moog, Roland Space Echo, Wooden Shjips, The Rec Center, Chris Penn, Entrance, Guy Blakeslee, Prayer Of Death, Wandering Stranger, Greg Ashley, Gris Gris, comedy show, Taix, Josh Fadem, Matt Dwyer, Silverlake, hipsters, Bob Odenkirk, American Apparel ad, Touch & Go, Matador, David Yow, Hari Leigh, Tomorrow Show, cute, mp3, blog, download Jay Reatard, Mets, Dodgers, bar, drunk

Titan / Earthless / The Fucking Champs @ Echoplex

Last night I witnessed the dazzling prog/psych/hard rock spectacle that was Titan, Earthless, and The Fucking Champs at Echoplex, located a mere footstep (plus several hundred) from my front door. As per usual, I showed up a half-hour after the listed start time, and I was still an hour early. I've yet to figure out how the hell shows work in LA. Everywhere else in the world I've been, they seem to start on time...

Before the show started I spent a few minutes chatting with Titan keyboardist Chris, and we spoke about his band, their recorded output, general music crap, and shared some life stories. It was a rather amiable exchange. Then his band took the stage and melted the faces of all those in attendance. Titan played about three songs in 35-45 minutes and definitely won over whatever portion of the crowd did not know already them. Lots of people were moved by the deep, heavy Titan groove. Heads nodded, eyes rolled back, and then there was that one guy who seemed to be dancing to his own stilted beat near the front, left-hand side of the stage. What a laugh riot! I've written at length about the finer qualities of Titan in the past year, so read here or here if you're looking for more descriptions of their immense, transcendent performances. And, as always, be sure to catch them live or buy their albums.

Earthless took me by surprise. I'd never heard of them, but they made damn sure I heard them last night. In fact, they almost deafened me, and I actually had to move back to the soundboard area to protect my ears. Holy shit, I haven't heard a band that loud since Boris. The three-piece from San Diego, with their Orange and Sunn amplifiers caught everyone in their whirlpool and dragged us under for forty minutes of sublime bombast. The sound Earthless emits is chest-kicking drum attacks, amphetamine bass riffs, and unending acid-guitar solos, capped off with occasional white-noise Echoplex (the effects unit, not the concert venue) madness. It was equal parts Hawkwind and High Rise. They also literally rocked without relent. There was not a single break between songs, the band seamlessly shifted numbers without hesitation, without breaking the momentum, without giving the audience even a moment to catch their breath or re-calibrate their hearing. I was left awed by their performance. Even Matt Sweeney got into it!

Perhaps not surprisingly, I met a guy who was there filming the performance for use in the upcoming documentary "Heavy" (or, as it's being called online, "Such Hawks, Such Hounds"). We spoke between sets about underground music and travel. It seems as if everyone is really excited about the imminent release of the film. In case you don't read this page regularly, I posted a very large (137MB) high quality trailer last month. It features performances and interviews with hard rock acts like Dead Meadow, Bardo Pond, Mammatus, Sunn O))), Pearls & Brass and a ton more. Also, that Pitchfork reviewer nerd who tends to ramble a lot!

The Fucking Champs. How were The Fucking Champs? Hopefully this imagery-rich description of one thirty-second long event will help capture their performance: During a particularly theatrical anthem in the latter-half of the band's set, the pot-bellied, bespectacled long-hair to my immediate left let out a triumphant "Woooot!" while extending a nearly-full beer above his head--perhaps as an offering to the Gods of rock--before violently throwing it to the ground in front of him, grabbing the voluptuous ass of his coked-up, thirty-something, ironic-heavy-metal-shirt-wearing girlfriend, jamming his hand down the back of her jeans, and tickling her half-exposed butt crack with his skull-and-cross-bones-ring-adorning middle-finger. Fucking great, right?

Tags: Titan, Earthless, The Fucking Champs, Echoplex, Echo Park, Los Angeles, concert, photography, progressive rock, deafening, San Diego, Orange, Sunn amplifier, Hawkwind, High Rise, documentary, Heavy, Such Hawks Such Hounds, trailer, Dead Meadow, Bardo Pond, Mammatus, Pearls & Brass, vivid description, mp3, blog, download

CJ Boyd / And The Furies Say / Die! Die! Die! @ Silverlake Lounge

In October of 2004, I received a message from a band on MySpace telling me they had noticed my musical interests, and thought I might like their band. That was during a time (age? era?) when you could receive a message from a band on MySpace and actually consider listening to their music, rather than unconsciously clicking the "mark as spam" button. They had one song available to stream, a demo track that harnessed the chamber rock complexity of Rachel's. My musical tastes at the time were such that I accepted their friendship request and decided I would see what this band, called And The Furies Say, could become.

A few weeks ago, when I found out that New Zealand's Die! Die! Die! would have a Wednesday night residency at Silverlake Lounge in July, I excitedly searched to see if any of the shows would have an intriguing supporting band. When I noticed that And The Furies Say would be supporting Die! Die! Die! on their last night at the venue, my decision was made. By the way, I don't remember who told me about Die! Die! Die!, but every time I hear them I wonder who it was, and I silently issue a short message of thanks to that unidentified individual.

The night began quite awkwardly. I figured the show would start at roughly 9, but when I showed up the room was absolutely barren. I spent about thirty minutes outside the club on my phone, and when I returned it was still totally empty. The first musician of the evening was sitting alone on the stage, shirtless, with a bass, a loop pedal, and a harmonica.

"Hey, my name is CJ Boyd and I'd like to thank you all for coming," he began, before surveying the room. "Actually, everyone who's here right now I know, so I guess I'm only thanking you," he commanded, pointing at me. "Hey, I'm CJ Boyd," he said. "Thanks for coming."

"Hi, CJ. I'm Evan," I responded. "And you're welcome."

As one would expect from the above description of his stage setup, Boyd's sound is wholly unique. Lush, sometimes dark, looped bass melodies accompanied by the occasional looped harmonica, percussive muted-string plucking/strumming, or vocal melody. His thirty-five minute set included some very trance-inducing ambient passages. With minimal compositions, Boyd kept things feeling loose and free, but always low and flowing effortlessly from start to finish.



And The Furies Say turned out to be quite disappointing. If their recently released self-titled album is like the realized vision of the demo I heard three years ago, then last night's showcase was a complete regression. They did not sound like a tight unit. The guitars were tinny and grating. The drummer poorly utilized a double-kick pedal (or just had rhythmic issues). While these could be explained away with equipment issues or the general malaise of touring, the songs simply didn't sound as nice as I had anticipated. The result was a band that sounded (and looked) like they were trying to imitate Explosions In The Sky or Godspeed, complete with Munaf Rayani-like body/guitar heaving, Efrim Manuck-like screwdriver-on-strings guitar playing (only instead of a screwdriver, it was a mallet), and two songs which featured crescendos eerily similar to those Godspeed has used (I'm not sure about And The Furies Say song titles, but the Godspeed tunes are "Moya" and "Albanian"). Perhaps the most gut-wrenching portion of the band's set was when one of the guitarists walked over to the microphone and said that as a touring band, they could use all the support we could offer, and that L.A. had been pretty cruel to them. It sounded heartfelt, but then he followed that up by actually begging for money, then pitifully admitting that, yes, he had just begged for money. I hope that with more time on the road and more practice, And The Furies Say can reach their potential and carve their own niche in the instrumental post-rock scene.



Die! Die! Die! began with a brief commentary about how every New Zealand band comes to Los Angeles for the first time and leaves with an album's worth of shitty material, and all the songs they were going to play tonight were their own new, shitty songs. Ah, self-deprecation. If you ever want to ingratiate yourself with me, there's no easier method win my favor. They, in fact, didn't sound shitty at all! They sounded thunderous, tight, and quite fun. The general formula was machine gun drumming, repetitive bass and guitar melodies, and an inevitable sonic freak-out. After the first song, the bassist announced that he had broken something on the bridge of his instrument, so the D-string was rendered useless. A few songs later, the drummer's ride cymbal was broken and discarded. They persevered, and delivered an intense, rocking set. I want to say sounded like a lighter, sharper Mclusky. After rolling around on the floor, screaming his guts out, the singer guy in the Part Chimp t-shirt full-on lunged into the drums like a torpedo to conclude the set. Punk rock! Woo!

Eh. Whatever. I suck at writing reviews.

Tags: MySpace, And The Furies Say, CJ Boyd, Die! Die! Die!, Silverlake Lounge, Silverlake, Los Angeles, Efrim Manuck, Explosions In The Sky, Godspeed You Black Emperor, Munaf Rayani, New Zealand, Mclusky, Part Chimp, mp3, blog, download

Tent City / Binges / Foot Village / Raccoo-oo-oon @ The Smell

Ah, The Smell. Where it's so stuffy it's hard to breathe, and even if you could, you might not want to savor that breath of air. Fawn and I met her friend Ashley, her bandmate Marla and the guys from Binges at a pizza place around the corner for a few minutes before they ducked out to set up for their set. One of them, Chris, stuck around to talk while he waited for a pizza. A nice guy from Chicago, he was. But then again, who from Chicago isn't nice? (Answer: Billy Corgan, John Cusack, etc.).

Tent City were sprawled across the floor in the main room, various instruments and small amplifiers facing every which way. Their sound relies heavily on controlled feedback, so amplifier / microphone placement is of the utmost importance. They started slowly, noodling their way through a few minutes of improvised noise before building to a crescendo. Harnessed static, a recorder, a saxophone, and ominous drum beats assembled a wall of noise out of thin air. Once they reached critical mass, the various tones spiraled down into near silence. It was quite excellent. At the end of the set, they dumped a bucket of bells on the ground, rolled them out into the audience, and encouraged people to throw them at strategically placed metal bowls, thus including everyone in attendance in the performance. Cute!

Lauren and Nick arrived about this time, and Fawn departed. The three of us enjoyed the rest of the bands, darting outside between sets to catch fresh air and pleas from tweaking pandhandlers passing through the alley.

Binges consists of two members, a drummer (Chris) and multi-instrumentalist (Anthony) who ran bass, guitar, sax, and a contact microphone through a series of effects pedals. They set up in the front room, right near the entrance to the club, in a tightly-packed corner. It was like subdued Paul Flaherty meets Lightning Bolt. That's a terrible description, but it's the most accurate one I can think of at the moment. Athony did a great job of controlling his loops and keeping a heavy groove. Here's a track from their