Okay, I BET everyone has prolly heard this jam from the Ideals: "Go Gorilla?!" Well, "yes" or "no," I hafta say it's feeling like the perfect warm-up jam for our current frozen as fuck hump day.
Turns out the group went bananas with this dance, they recorded "Mo Gorilla," and then in 1966 a more SOUL sounding version on Satellite.
This group weren't a garage group, but rather an R&B group from Chicago. And the name "Williams" you see in the "Gorilla" writer credit isn't for Andre Williams, no matter how much you wanna reckon this SOUNDS like a novelty song he'd write, it's actually Ideals' member Eddie Williams. Beyond their taming of a "Gorilla," the Ideals have a solid catalog with songs like "I Got Lucky (When I Found You)," "Go Get A Wig," and the sweet floater "Mighty Lover." Oh, Major Lance might have also been a member early in their formation.
I cannot tell a lie: I had to listen to this record several times before I was able to form a definitive opinion. Not that I didn't like it from the start, but Mutual Benefit's debut failed to grab me, and I hoped that it would, since it features many of the musical ingredients I enjoy the most: sunshine pop, pastoral folk, and subtle psychedelic touches. Plus: violin, saw, and lines that captured my imagination like, "We weren't made to be afraid."
There's a lot going on here, but Love's Crushing Diamond is also an understated piece of work; so understated that it recalls some of the easy-listening outfits of yesteryear, particularly the Association and Free Design—"That Light That's Blinding" could almost pass for a Bread composition (just add a sprinkling of female vocals). Jordan Lee's music isn't gonna hit you over the head, and I expected a little of that after the hype from Pitchfork ("Best New Music") and other outlets.
Las Vegas is a pretty crazy place. Aside from the fact that the city siphons a large part of the Colorado River each year to keep up with its consumption demands, uses a disproportionate amount of resources (though their sustainability efforts are supposedly improving), and didn't seem to much care about recycling: the drink prices are super high! Really, everything is more. Drinks cost as much as entrées, entrées are buffets, and when you order coffee, they bring a whole pot.
Luckily, away from the pricey hotels/casinos, we found a place with $2 well drinks at happy hour, and the day was completely saved (if only the Colorado River could quench its thirst at happy hour)! Next, we discovered that in an area of town called Old Vegas, things were cheaper, (black jack) dealers were friendlier, and there was a band playing Black Sabbath on electric cellos in the middle of the street. I would recommend Old Vegas.
It was back in New Vegas, though, that we saw Le Rêve (The Dream). It was an amazing play at the ridiculously balling Wynn hotel that made use of a circular pool-stage in the middle of the arena. The actors performed Cirque du Soleil-style acrobatics, and magic tricks, on fantastically ornamented props like artificial trees, floating tables, giant bells, and tiered platforms—all of which emerged from the water throughout the play. Athletic feats like handstands and flips, and bravery like high-dives into small areas, and a 90-foot drop from the rafters into the pool would have been enough to impress me, but the acting was also quite good.
Without words, the actors worked through a plot that follows a young woman after being presented a flower by a prospective lover. She then falls asleep, and her dreams are played out on the aquatic stage. There are demons, good guys, and some goofy suited dudes in swimming caps. In the end, she accepts the flower, and they retreat to a white bed which was lifted through a hole in the ceiling. Intercourse was heavily inferred.
At the shop you'll find collectible goodies and various PJ-related paraphernalia, including but (hopefully!) not limited to a very rare Patagonia backpack from their 20th anniversary. Plus more traditional rock-nerd stuff like a bass guitar signed by the members of the band and vinyl box sets. AND you can feel good noodling away on that autographed bass knowing the proceeds go toward the Vitalogy Foundation and local charities.
Oh! And while we're on the topic of charity and fandom, have you proven that you love Pearl Jam more than Macklemore and Ryan Lewis and Slog yet? Read about the 2013 Charity Challenge here and then donate your Pearl Jammin' face off!
Where does the driving, high-velocity element of your sound come from? I hear Blade Runner. Joy Division did the music to Blade Runner, and y'all came out.
Jude Miqueli: When I'm drumming, I feel like I'm driving a spaceship. The turns, the ramping up, easing in, and putting on the brakes. It's all a series of visions I have. I listen to each bandmate, look at them, and keep driving. I make sure we all land safely.
I'm giving away THREE PAIRS OF TICKETS to shows happening this Saturday because I like you guys and Wednesdays are my second-to-least-favorite day.
Ticket giveaway #3: Win a pair of tickets to see the Dismemberment Plan at The Neptune!
Be the first person to send your name to email@example.com with the name of the show you want to go to in the subject line and the tickets are yours. You can enter to win tickets to all three shows, but you'll need to send three separate e-mails.
I don't know what's more cliché than quoting Drizzy at this point—it's the stuff that struggle status updates are made of—but I can't sit here and lie to you, acting like I didn't immediately and totally relate to those lines in "Worst Behavior." I mean, "Mufucka never loved us!... Remember? Mufucka?!" Yes, he's so cookie-dough softbatch, and that video was the weakest broth—but c'mon, you know that part sounded cathartic as hell when you first heard it. What that phrase means to me: memories of being a lot younger in this hiphop shit here and getting fronted on. I'm sure my Seattle rap generation—from Oldominion to the Blue Scholars to Macklemore—knows exactly what I mean. I recall how I didn't start getting daps, and seeing the teeth of mufuckas who weren't my contemporaries, until those cats felt like I had something to offer them (aka when I started working at The Stranger). I never forgot that shit, and I know I'm not alone. I honestly look forward to the day that I can quit my jobs, when I might get some more authentic interactions from so-called real ones, or more importantly, so that the chronically self-stuck will no longer register my face.
Naturally, I decided to interview him with a few hard-hitting questions about TV and movie discoveries while on tour. Here’s what he had to tell me:
What are some memorable movies that you've ended up watching on tour? Which ones do you find yourself repeatedly re-watching? It changes from tour to tour. Sand, for example only watches No Retreat, No Surrender. With Cursive, there was a tour where Step Brothers was really resonating with the group of us young men. I think my favorite is on one Icy Demons tour, we got totally immersed in Some Kind of Monster, but not in a healthy way at all. Our tour manager started referring to us by the names of who he thought each of us was acting like, and guess who I got? The fucking producer! I thought I'd be an obvious choice for Kirk, in the role of master steedsman/shredder. Or at least the drummer.
What are some movies that new/old friends from around the country always seem to have at their house? Lately, I've been trying to predict what people will have in their collections. I'm getting really good at telling if someone owns Amelie or not. But there are definitely patterns. I think the Eternal Sunshine/High Fidelity/Donnie Darko triumverate may be most common. But way out of the norm, recently I saw an amazingly thorough horror collection with seriously everything from mainstream B movies like Dr Giggles and Maniac Cop, to Italian gore and Begotten and weird great stuff I haven't thought of for years.
What, in your opinion, is the best music documentary? Controversial topic. Real issues. My favorites? Maybe my current favorite is Athens, GA: Inside Out. I've always loved Decline Of Western Civ Part 2. And in the ongoing new vs. old Aerosmith debate, I have seriously lost friends over The Making of Pump, which evidently I alone love.
What, in your opinion, is the best fictional band from TV/film? Is the band in Lost Boys real?
Did action movies stop being good after 1998? Hello? Entrapment, anyone?
Can you tell me about the best TV discoveries of tour that you would like to share? A Dog With A Blog is something that stumbled upon recently and it's easily the weirdest show on TV. Need to study this one further, but it's the story of a dog who speaks to a human family and blogs via voiceovers about how crazy life can be.
GET SAPPY WITH MONTREAL DUBSTEPPERS ADVENTURE CLUB
Montreal's Adventure Club (Christian Srigley and Leighton James) used to play in a pop-punk band. Now they're making accessible, vocal-heavy dubstep with tender keyboard interludes, gallingly "uplifting" orchestral flourishes, and commonplace lyrical sentiments. Once in a while, they'll drop a gimmicky, heavier dubstep cut like "Kaboom," but it's the equivalent of Coldplay "going metal"—unconvincing. With DVBBS, DallasK, and Hunter Siegel. Showbox Sodo, 7:30 pm, $25 adv/$30 DOS, all ages.
PICTUREPLANE MEWLS, DJAO RULES
Like many young musicians in the 21st-century electronic realm, Pictureplane (aka Travis Egedy) loves '80s synth pop. You can't swing a Korg without hitting three of these types nowadays, so it takes quite a bit of ingenuity to stand out from the pack. Pictureplane's peppy, twee, innocuous songs—featuring Egedy's grayscale, mewling vocals—are not outstanding. Thankfully, Seattle producer DJAO's music is out of the ordinary. A scrupulous artisan of atmosphere and a master of vocal arrangement and derangement, DJAO (Alex Osuch) creates hazy bass music that accrues beautiful melodies like Fox News spreads falsehoods. His debut album emerges next year on Dropping Gems. You may get glimpses of it tonight. With WD4D. Chop Suey, 8 pm, $10 adv/$12 DOS, 21+.
Sometimes revelations come on a Tuesday night at Barboza—Seattle quartet Newaxeyes, for instance. These young white dudes were playing their first proper club show, but they stunned the small crowd with 30 minutes of dense, penetrating unconventionality. After the set was over, one joker waved his hands over a monitor, as if it were smoking. Many a valid concept is portrayed in jest.
From jump, one could sense that Newaxeyes ain’t your typical Seattle band. They immediately filled Barboza’s royal-blue-hued room with extreme frequencies and rugged, off-kilter beats. Think UK noise-drone titans Fuck Buttons jamming with innovative, cult hiphop unit Dälek and you’re getting close to imagining the artful aural violence happening here.
Newaxeyes’ music is dark without being hackneyed, abrasive yet nuanced, psychedelic in non-obvious ways. Everything’s distorted, all of the time. All of their tracks fluidly segued without pause, like a well-wrought DJ set. At times their bass tones powered through your quality earplugs, vibrating the hell out of your cochlea, and rippled your internal organs. The third song found vicious, slithering beats encrusted in ill debris draped in astringent clangor, until everything dropped out save for a beautifully pensive guitar solo. Nobody saw that coming, but when it did it was breathtaking. The last piece sounded like Roy Budd’s “Get Carter” theme being sucked backward into a huge vacuum.
Based on this show and to a lesser extent on their Soundcloud output, Newaxeyes are Seattle’s most exciting new band. Follow them closely.
There's a lot for horror-movie fans to enjoy, like the references to Hitchcock (specifically Psycho) and Vincent Price (a geometric mask that recalls The Masque of the Red Death), empty churches, dismembered dolls, hooded executioners, and blood-red giallo graphics. Cool stuff all around.
It's Alive is out now. La Luz plays Neumos with Built to Spilll on Dec 27 and 28.
The Night Riders' fuzz and sing-a-long hook-filled jam "Don't Say," to my ears, for some odd, assed-reason, sounds like something from the '70s. Hmmmm. Maybe I'm dreaming but it has a slight Killed By Death vibe.
All I know about this group was they were from Detroit, Michigan and this was their only 45. There was also a Nightriders, perhaps, from Portland, Oregon who were known for their killer "With Friends Like You, Who Needs Friends," as well as a Night Riders from North Carolina on the Justice label.
Boss of the justifiably worshiped L.I.E.S. label (Long Island Electrical Systems), Ron Morelli also has released one of the most riveting specimens of end-times techno of this year, Spit (Hospital Productions). An exhilarating post-industrial bleakness courses through the album’s eight tracks, which serve as an apt soundtrack for a planet that seems hell-bent on becoming a dystopia. Morelli's music thrives under these grim, onerous conditions. In an interview with FACT, he says that Spit was inspired by “the fear and repulsion of basic human interaction."
Named after the prostitute saliva Morelli would step into as he walked to his Brooklyn home at night—Spit peaks with “Modern Paranoia,” which ought to be Earth’s theme song. It’s a sparse, tense 5½ minutes of coiled bass, delayed, joyless claps, urgent kick/cymbal swish, and a warped synth motif that feels like a Theremin played by a spastic caught in a whirlwind. “Modern Paranoia” evokes the mindset of being under invasive 24/7 scrutiny. Cold sweat ensues.
It's December in the Northwest—the sky's black, the wind is biting and the rain is ice—and somehow, the UDF (Underworld Dust Funk) cult continues to be the coldest, darkest shit you're going to find here. (If you're digging what Nacho Picasso and Avatar Darko are doing, picture that with even less optimism, and a lot more esotericism.) Their latest scripture is Misfit from Caz Greez:
Xanax fuckin with my temper, my mind is on the tempter/ inside I feel like winter, refuse to be censored.
Produced chiefly by UDF magus Khrist Koopa—who was nearly taken out this year by his pharmacologically extreme lifestyle—along with Ryan Evans and Moor Gang's Mack Ned among others, Misfit makes Caz sound like some despotic pharoah slowly thawing out of a glacier, frozen-slushy Actavis pumping through his blood vessels, jagged ice crystals dragging sacred glyphs into the walls of his veins. Or, a frustrated, nihilistic kid from Southside Chicago (by way of Everett, WA), full of bile and Percoset, chain smoking and paranoid. Misfit is a premium rap opiate, cut with pure battery acid and highly addictive. Continue to sleep on the wave represented by UDF (among plety others) and you're missing some of the most interesting (and telling) hiphop our region is producing right now. I said it before, you said it before: the kids ain't alright. Somebody book these cats someplace, ASAP.
Four Tet is nothing if not generous. This live recording was taken from a show in Tokyo that he performed a MERE two days ago. It's a nice continuation/ summation of his most recent, club-oriented albums, while still managing to hit those soulful, melodic highs he's so fond of. And just when he sorta seems to be navel-gazing a little, the beats drop hard as bricks and snap the whole thing back into focus.
"Every day is the same," our cab driver said about living in Las Vegas, as he drove my wife and I from the airport to the hotel. I jotted down the information. Maybe I wouldn't have to change my underwear after all! As we arrived, the driver also informed us that our hotel was "the best place in town to cheat on your spouse." We thanked him for the valuable tip. It was pure class, right out of the gate! Shout out to that guy.
We didn't end up soliciting any fondles from strangers, but we did make it to the Justin Timberlake show. It was at the MGM Grand, which is a big green slice of hell on the south end of the strip. We weaved our way around a couple zillion smokey card tables and crowded slot machines to get to the Garden Arena, which is at the heart of the beast. We packed into a bottleneck with the rest of the herd and waited for the doors to open. I spotted a Piña Colada stand on one side of the hall, and we surrendered ourselves to its faux-tropical temptations. The next thing we knew, we were in the upper rows readying ourselves for "the 20/20 experience"...
De Jamaica Observer heeft het overlijden gemeld van reggae-artiest, Junior Murvin. De zanger is op 2 december heengegaan in het Port Antonio Hospital in Portland. Blijkbaar zat hij al in een vergevorderd stadium van diabetes dat tot zijn dood leidde.
Hij was het best gekend voor zijn single Police And Thieves, die te horen was op het gelijknamig debuutalbum uit 1977. Later dat jaar verscheen het ook als cover op de debuutplaat van The Clash, die zijn nummer wereldwijd bekend maakten.
I know I'm a couple days late on this, but I don't read the Pitchfork or care much about the Pixies. HOWEVER, I do care about Kim Shattuck and the Muffs! Shattuck had a real short run; she'd only been playing with the Pixies, live, since September.
It looks like Pixies have lost two bass-playing Kims in one year. As Slicing Up Eyeballs points out, Kim Shattuck of the Muffs took to Twitter and Facebook to share the news that she's no longer a member of the band. Shattuck stood in for Kim Deal, who quit the band earlier this year.
Hmmm, I wonder if they have Kim Warnick's number? I don't think she's currently playing full time with anyone.
h/t: Mr. Geoff Cox!
Which is better, the cool, cool rap styles of Cold Drinks ("If there's still foam, let it settle down / don't pour it off or your boss will frown!") Or the smooth, smooth singing in Hot Drinks ("If they want lemon / it's very nice, don't think twice / give the guest a juicy slice!")
UPDATE: Derek Erdman posted these videos a gazillion years ago! Well, in August, anyway. Seems somebody (and I'm not pointing any fingers) had too many "hot drinks" when they posted this.