IF YOU TASTE THE CANDY: ON GENE WEEN

I went to see Gene Ween last night with a friend of mine (a long time Ween enthusiast) who had an extra ticket. The show was sold out and we got there a little late so ended up standing by the bar in the back. The guy next to me was wearing a Mr. Skin t-shirt. A waitress kept passing us, charged with what looked like the worst task ever, having to continually push back and forth through the shoulder to shoulder crowd while balancing a tray of beer and cocktails. After she shoved past the Mr. Skin guy, I heard him tell his friend “I totally rubbed some tit.”

Being a solo acoustic performance, it was very much ‘for fans only’ but I hadn’t really anticipated the kind of fan devotion Ween inspires—or half of Ween in this case. It seemed like everyone, everyone, was singing along. At first this sort of creeped me out, as the one guy in the room who wasn’t in on the cult of Ween and then Gener played a song off Chocolate and Cheese and I got that tug of recognition and sang along. It was the one about the Mexican who’s avenging his brother but who turns out to be the killer and is framing his “amigo.” At the end, when the device is revealed, the whole crowd was belting it out with such hammy enthusiasm that I got kind of lost in the moment. And the near-religious display of audience commitment was refreshing whether I was in on it or not. But the audience response was strange considering the songs are so completely ironic. But then some how they’ve arrived at sincerity? or maybe I just don’t get it and really that ‘weird’ song about the party and tri-colored pasta is so very true but also totally hilarious but most of all cause for sing-a-long. The guy next to me during “Don’t Get 2 Close (2 My Fantasy)”: “I have no idea what the fuck this means but it’s fucking awesome.”

The show reminded me of the festivals I went to as a teenager. Going to Hog Farm and seeing all these people rallying around music and recognizing the value and wanting to participate but not really connecting, and it all seeming a little mindless, and the music isn’t even any good is it? And some guy blasting Hurricane and being like yeah I like Dylan. Did you see that Denzel movie? and ultimately feeling alienated. But I like Ween a lot more than Yonder Mountain String Band or Ben Harper or whatever Dead related group was the main ticket that year. And I don’t have a 15 year old’s insecurity or thirst for self definition (relatively anyway) So, last night I could, I guess, enjoy the show passively. I would’ve liked to have heard Sarah though.

THE HOSPITALS - HAIRDRYER PEACE

Here's all I know: The Hospitals are a three-piece from SF with members of Portland band Eat Skull. Released April 4, Hairdryer Peace (which sounds like your typical two-noun nonsense title until you consider the noisy implications) is probably my album of 2008. What the Hospitals seem to understand is that at this point, demolishing pop forms has been done. Here is a noise record with songs, not a pop record with noise leanings, and not a straight up noise excursion. "Getting Out of Bed" is the obvious jam of the record, with some of the best use of the currently-in-vogue nasally, flippant vocals I've heard thus far.

The production, though stuck in the "bedroom noise-psych" aesthetic, is constantly surprising--large swaths of compressed, moaning distortion tend to empty the brain cavity. The record breathes. Nowhere to be found are the two dynamic settings of a band like No Age (which basically boils down to: is the drummer on the ride cymbal, or isn't he?) or the incessant churn of novice noisemakers. Whoever is drumming is pretty incredible. Rhythm does not dominate this record, but it enhances the overall hugeness--the closest sonic equivalent I can think of is Phil Elvrum's drumming on the Glow Pt. II, which has long been one of my touchstones for a gigantic, over-compressed drum sound.

The motherfuckers only pressed 500 of these, sold out, so you're sort of out of luck for now. However, if you live in SF, they're playing at the LiPo Lounge in Chinatown, this Friday, Dec. 5 (with "the Bridez," fuck a "z" in a bandname), and they'd better have LPs there or I'll be upset. The show is free, at least.

SONGZ:

ANIMALS ACT NATURAL

GETTING OUT OF BED

TITUS ANDRONICUS 10/23/08 @ EMPTY BOTTLE, CHICAGO

A couple of weeks ago I went with fellow Big States blogoscribe Joe Dixon to see Titus Andronicus at the Empty Bottle. Bird Talk opened playing spunky punk pop that could have fit comfortably among Lookout's roster c. '95. After that was another holdover, the band Shopping, fronted by a singer sounding very much like PeeChees' frontman Chris Applegren. Maybe this is representative of the rising stock of 90s bay area punk? The openers perfectly illustrated the ambition-less loyalty to style that Titus Andronicus fully transcend. Right away they owned all the sloppy stage craft and antics of any good punk band, but didn't stop at spirit and posture. They clearly know how to write a song which is always a big advantage. But they also aren't afraid of drawing from several musical histories, even those that might seem best avoided. They displayed a kind of "I love Rock n' Roll" shamelessness, but buoyed by smart lyrics and unflaggingly catchy songs. Midway through their set they covered Weezer's Sweater Song, which might give the best idea of how their sound balances the big and dumb with the small and felt. Best of all, there was none of the guilty cuteness that might suggest they didn't mean it for real.

There's an easy comparison to Springsteen (they're from New Jersey), which isn't to say they sound like him, because they don't really. But their music doesn't avoid Springsteen level hugeness and the unfashionable belief that rock can be righteous, or is at least more fun when it feels that way. By the end of the night I felt something like faith, both in the band and in the belief that fun and smart really don't have to be mutually exclusive.





On Myspace

NO AGE + CO. AT LOBOT GALLERY, OAKLAND JUL 29

Tuesday, July 29 was Club Sandwich's two year anniversary--they're a local all-ages/"diy" show promotions group. Anyway, they pulled off somewhat of a booking coup with this sold out show at West Oakland's Lobot Gallery: No Age, Mika Miko, Abe Vigoda, and Oakland's KIT all played after a stint at SF's Great American Music Hall the evening before.



I missed KIT, but Abe Vigoda ended up being the highlight of this show--their set was tight and their verbed-out ADD punk has a hypnotic quality to it. My complaint with all these LA bands is a dearth of respect for the human voice (vocals are often buried deep in the mix, and are usually completely inaudible at shows like these), but Abe Vigoda's guitar work tends to make up for it. It's a novel punk band that plays with tremolo and reverb knobs cranked to 10, and it makes for a sound that is cavernous and beautiful. Beautiful, even in a stark-white gallery with no sound system, crushed against the wall by a surging mass of sixteen year olds. Very inspiring.

Mika Miko is a different story. These girls have a sound that is pure throwback: the Misfits, Bad Brains, thrash, whatever. Relentless powerchords, simple drum beats, and unintelligible (but cute) screeching into a telephone rigged up as a microphone are the hallmarks of this group. The first time I saw them (at SF's Noise Pop festival) their energy was sufficient to make it a worthwhile spectacle, but I was rubbed the wrong way this time. Their songs have precious little by way of substance. I've never heard any of their recorded material and I don't particularly feel the need to.

I enjoyed No Age's set. I think a lot of folks end up at No Age shows expecting some level of MTV polish on the songs, and what they get is a sloppy two piece rock band. That's what No Age is. A fun, sloppy, youthful LA punk band who like to throw in some noisy stuff every once in a while, and who place more value on the energy of the performance than on, say, the vocals. Their artier leanings (as evidenced by the video for their empty-sounding single, Eraser) tend to go right out the windows at shows like these, thankfully. They finished up with a cover of the Gun Club's "Sex Beat" which actually made my night. It all made for a fine showcase of L.A.'s biggest indie exports of the moment. Hopefully it was an inspiring one for the music makers and venue owners of the Bay Area, an area sorely lacking in the sort of upbeat energy these three bands bring in spades.

THE KILLER WHALES AT THE EMPTY BOTTLE, CHICAGO JUL 17

Since moving to Chicago I've heard steady buzz of the Killer Whales and last night at the Empty Bottle I finally got around to seeing them. The group is fronted by two singers on bass and guitar with dual drummers, one on trap kit, the other playing bongos and floor toms. They played together effortlessly, sounding both ferociously tight and artlessly playful. The staccato guitar and interlocking rhythms had echoes of post-punk, but stripped of cold English dread in favor of warm irreverence. Without all the ennui running interference one could better focus on getting down. Between songs, and as the small audience slowly loosened, we were told to imagine a hypothetical vampire kept at bay only by channeling all our most positive vibes into furious dancing.

Their CD doesn't quite do them justice, sounding small and careful where their live show felt sizable and unrestrained. On record their impish falsetto can be cloying, but last night it simply Was, matching the percolating groove and needling guitar.

The Killer Whales - Only for Money

Killer Whales on myspace.