R. Crumb's Heroes of Blues, Jazz & Country (2006)

One thing I love about Robert Crumb more than his drawings is his taste in music. Without him, I probably wouldn't have dared venture into weeding out the good blues/ragtime artists, even though I consider them one of my favorite styles of music. This CD came with a book I bought of the same title, which was based on a trading card series Crumb drew of old blues artists. It's a fairly good sized book, each section split into labeled sections (Heroes of the Blues, Pioneers of Country Music, and Early Jazz Greats), so it makes it easy to reference an artist if I need to. Each picture is drawn by Crumb himself, along with a small biography of the artist with their origin and time of activity. All of this, and a free CD! But for those of you who may not read, or who wouldn't want to trouble with a book, I'm being nice enough to offer this fantastic compilation for free. All songs were arranged by Crumb himself, all of which are highly regarded recommendations from the brilliant cartoonist. So, you have nothing to lose. And if you find yourself craving more, it wouldn't hurt to check out the soundtrack to Terry Zwigoff's disturbing and moving documentary, Crumb, based off the artist's life (conveniently found here). Enjoy!

1. Memphis Jug Band- On the Road Again
2. Blind Willie McTell- Dark Night Blues
3. Cannon's Jug Stompers- Minglewood Blues
4. Skip James- Hard Time Killin' Floor Blues
5. Jaybird Coleman- I'm Ganna Cross the River Jordan/ Some O' These Days
6. Charley Patton- High Water Everwhere
7. Frank Stokes- I Got Mine
8. "Dock" Boggs- Sugar Baby
9. Shelor Family- Big Bend Gal
10. Hayes Sheperd- The Peddler and his Wife
11. Crockett's Country Mountaineers- Little Rabbit
12. Burnett & Rutherford- All Night Long Blues
13. East Texas Serenaders- Mineola Rag
14. Weems String Band- Greenback Dollar
15. Bennie Monten's Kansas City Orchestra- Kater Street Rag
16. "King" Oliver's Creole Jazz Band- Sobbin' Blues
17. Parham-Picket Apollo Syncopaters- Mojo Strut
18. Frankie Franko & His Louisianians- Somebody Stole my Gal
19. Clarence William's Blue Five- Wild Cat Blues
20. "Jelly Roll" Morton's Red Hot Peppers- Kansas City Stomps
21. Jimmy Noone- King Joe

R. Crumb's Heroes of Blues, Jazz and Country (2006)

Holopaw- Quit +/or Fight (2005)

While you'd have to be pretty hard-pressed to not know who Modest Mouse is, there is sometimes the occasional fan who hasn't been exposed to Isaac Brock's side stint with Ugly Casanova. In fact, it's even easier to discredit its eclectic cast of cabin rockers. Brian Deck produced two of Iron & Wine's most critically acclaimed albums (Our Endless Numbered Days and The Shepherd's Dog), while Tim Rutili remains as the driving force of Califone. John Orth of the Florida-based band Holopaw is a grand element to Ugly Casanova's sound; with writing credits on four songs, he accompanied Brock on the microphone with a wavering voice that will soon be unmistakable to your ears.

Only formed just a year before Sharpen Your Teeth's release, Holopaw provides soothing, mellow folk jams and ballads with a certain grace and majesty that is as fragile as it is powerful. Maybe that's milking it a little too much, but every once in a while, "that" kind of music just happens to be composed and is left waiting to be discovered. The band's sophomore release, Quit +/or Fight, was and still is mostly forgotten, especially on the tails of their latest 2009 masterpiece, Oh, Glory. Oh, Wilderness. They're both excellent tapestries of pure musical charm, but today we'll be unearthing the former and giving it some extra necessary exposure.Quit +/or Fight may only run for half-an-hour, and it may be too delicate for some in terms of its cushiony execution and Orth's feminine croon, but underneath lies 11 resplendent tunes that beg to be loved. If it rubs you in the right spot, return the love and share it with others; Holopaw is far too brilliant to fall into the unknown.

The DarkSide of the Wall @ The Brown Theater, Louisville

The DarkSide of the Wall
Saturday, January 23rd, 2010
The Brown Theater
Better Than: Going to the dentist...?

I have spent at least ten minutes trying to remember what music I listened to in middle school through freshmen year of high school, and the only thing that prominently comes to mind are the words Pink Floyd. This is when I realized that through that entire period of my life I listened to virtually nothing else. There may be a foggy memory of Dinosaur Jr's Green Mind, or a Mars Volta album somewhere in the mix, but as far back as I can remember (and that's not very far), I lost my entire middle school/9th grade years to Pink Floyd, and there's no regret there. I've benefited from the binge. From an exhausting knowledge of their catalog, to a growing affection that becomes stronger as the years go by, I find that having such a strong connection to a band is like having affection for a kitten: it's unconditional. Even if they may piss on your rug that really tied the room together (Momentary Lapse of Reason, ahem), or split up because one of the members is a little bitch, you find a way to overlook that flaw. The great thing about having this affection for such a high capacity band like Pink Floyd is that there are so many different albums, eras, and sounds to get into at once. You're never left bored or pining for more; it is emotionally, physically (and maybe a little sexually) satisfying. The downside to liking a band like Floyd, though, is that two very significant members are already dead. Syd Barrett may have been kicked out of the troupe earlier on, but it doesn't stop that part of Pink Floyd from being totally irreplaceable. And speaking of which, how are we supposed to expect a reunion now that Richard Wright is dead? This is where tribute bands come into the equation.

There's always been a sort of 50/50 love-hate affection I've had with tribute bands, but when your long time favorite band is slowly dying off, sometimes you have no other choice, especially when you long to hear that music amplified to a live capacity. I've seen The Pink Floyd Experience twice: four years ago in Huntington, West Virginia and roughly one year ago while residing in Louisville. Both sets where sensually satisfying, but not because they played "Wish You Were Here"- in fact, they didn't play it at all. They were satisfying because they took time to cover virtually every era of Floyd, cascading from the late Division Bell to the ancient jam tune known as "Astronomy Domine." No Floyd was left behind. So after seeing this band twice, I've had pretty high expectations when it comes to these kinds of concerts.

The DarkSide of the Wall is a Louisville-based band consisting of what the website claims as "some of the top music and production talent in the region." Unfortunately, there is a difference between being exceptional and genuine. I totally understand the concept of playing what the crowd may want to hear, but sometimes the crowd isn't all middle aged washups. Perhaps there are eager high school girls crammed between drunkards who simply wish to hear a song from Obscured by Clouds, or maybe just a couple tracks from Relics. It's hardly a selfish thing to ask for; after all, why would we want to hear songs we hear consistently on 107.7 anyway? No luck. It was all strictly Dark Side and The Wall as their name so fittingly proclaims. Although I have no complaints about hearing "Welcome to the Machine" or "Pigs," I just kind of wished there would be more variety. You would be considered naive to think this set list did any justice.
But the set list wasn't the only problem I noticed with the band. There were several instances during the show where specific guitar solos were omitted in replacement for vocal solos instead. Take the second acoustic solo in "Wish You Were Here," the glorious moment when David Gilmour scat vocals with his guitar: completely ignored here. It's almost like the guitar player was either too stupid or too lazy to learn the solo. Even I know how to play that solo. I also noticed a problem with the band's guitar tones, specifically on songs like "Run Like Hell" or "Pigs" where the initial guitar tone is absolutely key. I've listened to these songs enough to know a wrong tone when I hear one. As opposed to the hollow and twang-like tone used in these tracks, the band adapted a more heavy and almost metalesque sound that didn't work well with the music they were supposed to be playing. The lead guitarist was also prone to jumping around the stage as if in a slow motion mosh pit, something I've never seen David Gilmour do on stage before. His only job is to play and look cute!

I feel I could fill up another paragraph or so about how I was close to walking out mid-show or about the sloppy vocals on "The Great Gig in the Sky," but I guess I should have seen this coming. I can't expect less-than-perfect musicians to give me the absolutely perfect show that I want. That's not what a tribute band is about. They may know how to play all the notes and use all the right lights at the right time, but it all comes down to the fact that it's not Floyd. Not even close. These are merely people like me, committed in their fanship, just in a different way. I know I wasn't fortunate enough to be born in a time where a Pink Floyd tour was the norm, but I wish that I could at least have a taste. Just a little bite.

Huevos's Best Records of 2009

Although not taken kindly to by my Imprint staff, I still hold strong to my year's end list. It's good to know there's no prejudice here against things that people would consider 'too obscure,' even though some of these results are pretty obvious (i.e. Embryonic or Merriweather) But even so, I did try to include albums I believe to be wildly underrated and unfairly overlooked during the passing year. And even though this may be what's posted, there is always an underlying feeling I've forgotten something, so be sure to tell me yours!

10.
Akron/Family
Set 'Em Wild, Set 'Em Free




9.
Blackout Beach
Skin of Evil




8.
Built to Spill
There is No Enemy




7.
Monsters of Folk
Monsters of Folk




6.
Yo La Tengo
Popular Songs




5.
Tom Waits
Glitter and Doom Live




4.
Dinosaur Jr.
Farm




3.
The Pains of Being Pure at Heart
The Pains of Being Pure at Heart




2.
The Flaming Lips
Embryonic




1.
Animal Collective
Merriweather Post Pavilion

Honorable Mentions

Big Business- Mind the Drift

Meat Puppets- Sewn Together

El Grupo Nuevo de Omar Rodriguez-Lopez- Cryptomnesia

Antony and the Johnsons- The Crying Light

Bat for Lashes- Two Suns

The Bad Plus- For All I Care

Tortoise- Beacons of Ancestorship

Boris- Japanese Heavy Rock Hits Vols. 1–4

Throughout the last several months of 2009, Boris put out four 7" vinyl singles that somehow showed them experimenting more with their music than before. The freedom of the medium sparked some creative outputs, and the results are unsurprisingly vintage Boris. Vol. 1 kicks off with the epic rocker "8," a blazing number that could have seemingly been plucked from yesteryear's anime hit. It still has that Heavy Rocks edge in a way, so there's definitely no misled presumptions of what the single collection offers. "Hey Everyone" may be the more unorthodox of the two, boasting a party banging beat and drunken vocal chants.

Boris took the opportunity to display their fun side with these singles without being constricted by the wild concepts of previous endeavors like Flood and Feedbacker. On Vol. 2, it's made clear by even the title of "H.M.A. -Heavy Metal Addict-" as much as the song itself. Led into the groove by the rare appearance of synthesizers, echoing yelps and chugging guitar growls propel the track through five minutes but doesn't seem to go anywhere. Fortunately "Black Original" makes up for the lackluster rocker with its '80s new wave-inspired sentiment. Remember the Psychedelic Furs? Me either, but if they were Japanese and (presumably) not hung up with cheesy love songs, it might have sounded something like this. It's certainly a treat to hear harmonizing vocals in Boris's music...

...just as much as it is to hear lead guitarist Wata perform vocals herself. The post-rock "16:47:52..." of Vol. 3—reminiscent to the quieter moments of Flood—moves along at a very contemplative pace while Wata sings ever-so-softly, as if whispering inches away from your ear. Of course it's in Japanese, leaving most listeners in the dark on what the song means. "...And Hear Nothing" keeps on the crawling tempo but amps up the grandiosity with an anthemic quality akin to Pink's "Farewell," complete with the trademark droning feedback we've come to love from our Japanese trio.

The fourth and final single was released this month in December, although without a cover sleeve, any accompanying artwork and only only features one song rather than two. The band covers an upbeat '70s oldie called "Seasons," originally by a Dutch progressive rock group called Earth and Fire. Wata makes yet another appearance on lead vocals, but in an almost adorable manner when her Japanese accent drives the English-spoken lyrics. It's a substantial finish to the singles tetralogy and leaves Boris as eclectic as ever, while fans are left wondering what the band could possibly experiment in next.

If, Bwana- Tripping India (1997)

If, Bwana's mystery goes far beyond its bizarre lengthy tracks and baffling name.

For more than twenty years, the project has been quietly run under the hands of noise music artist Al Margolis. It remained passably popular through time, and from what I can see, has still yet to recieve any kind of true recognition... and that breaks my heart. There have been very few albums to make me react so ecstatically, especially to something that would be considered all noise. But I feel like it's something totally beyond that. Joined by a hefty collective of experimental performers, Margolis created a nucleus of sound that could only be described as a stripped down Sun Ra sweating through an acid induced hour long take in an outhouse studio during a thuderstorm. Three different pianists consistantly play at different times, both manipulated and processed to inject a riveting sense of familiarity to the listener. But within these tracks of clangs and piano keys, there's a larger story. You just sort of have to let the album overwhelm you, allow the soundscapes to narrate themselves and at the same time, prevent concern about where it takes you. The experience could be completely frightening (for me, it was), but it affected me so much more in larger way. I truly think it's an experience worth taking, for anyone, even if it's just once.

(some weed helps, too.)

1. 3 Out If 5 Ain't Bad

2. Pr-Dr

3. Tripping India

Tripping India (1997)

Dinosaur Jr. @ Headliners Music Hall, Louisville

Dinosaur Jr., Lou Barlow and The Missingmen

Friday, October 16, 2009

Headliners Music Hall

Better than: Any experience in my life leading up to this show.

One thing I've learned about Headliners is that they really don't give a shit about your age. Although, it's not particularly a bad thing; eighteen and over shows should be banished altogether. Really, why? No one's buying beer with their little wristbands and hand stamps; no underage child is going to go home drunk. It seems that there is an unfair prejudice against people under 18, and with a band like Dinosaur Jr. arriving in town, the hate should stop here. To my absolute pleasure, it did. Eighteen or no, I got through that door.

The only downside to my experience was arriving extremely late. I missed Lou Barlow and The Missingmen's set -a total bummer because this time, I actually wanted to see the opening act. But my absence was made up for (see paragraph 4) and I believe it was well deserved. After all, who can deny the significance of flowers? Carrying a bouquet around a gig is a sure way to get noticed, at least; making friends this night was far from avoidable. It's nice being able to charm your way to the front.

Around came 9:00 and J Mascis took the stage, unnatural platinum hair swaying side to side with awkward bluesy sound checks and all. I never expected to take J for a bashful guy, but aside from mumbled thanks in between songs, he said nothing the entire set (this, of course, assuming he sang lyrics.) But modesty aside, the set list was insane. Predictably, tracks from Farm took up a good portion of the night -"I Don't Want to Go There" included an extended jam, along with a funky version of "Over It" and the record's catchy opener, "Pieces." But old school Dino fans got their treat as well. You're Living All Over Me's "Little Fury Things," Bug's "Freak Scene" and the popular "Feel the Pain" of Without a Sound were also honored. Keep in mind (for those who aren't familiar with the band) Lou Barlow is in Dinosaur Jr., even though he also produces solo work and was one of the founding members of Sebadoh. For the record, I freaking love Sebadoh. And deciding whether my bouquet should be given to J Mascis or Lou was an epic on its own. This, along with a few drunken dancing wash-ups, was my only distraction of the night.

It turns out my internal conflict was decided for me. Immediately proceeding the show, J Mascis hightailed to the tour bus and never came out, no answer to my urgent knocks and still no Lou to be seen. As with the Melvins, I figured lurking near the backside of the building was my best option, so I shot the breeze with some of Lou's old college friends, one of whom stole part of my heart.*

The whole ordeal lasted for at least two hours after the show had ended, but in the end Lou got my flowers and he wrote me a note in thanks. It was actually the first time I've had a real conversation with one of my underground heroes. And I didn't cry this time. It's not like I try to be the creepy fan chick anyway, it just comes naturally. But we'll see how long this newfound coolness fairs. Meat Puppets are hitting Headliners Nov. 17th. You bet your ass I'm there.

*TOM IF YOU SEE THIS POST, CALL ME.

The Smiths- Strangeways, Here We Come (1987)

The Smiths were more expansive than their generic name gave away. Does it even need to be mentioned what a great duo Morrissey and Johnny Marr made? To this day, they still refuse to tarnish their legendary years in the '80s by reforming, as if anything could be done to ruin a band so flawless. With a cadence that dripped with sincerity and sex, Morrissey gave voice to a muted generation. There weren't a lot of songwriters with the huevos to speak up about such sexual and personal subject matter before him; songs from human nature to comatose girlfriends and the every day life in between.

Strangeways, Here We Come is short, barely brushing past the 36-minute mark, but you'd be a fool to underestimate how much is packed into a half-hour with The Smiths. There are jams, ballads and anti-ballads that paint a vivid picture of mundane-yet-provocative life, and as mentioned prior, they are wildly relatable with Morrissey's affection. Even from the song titles alone, there's a certain atmosphere that's dark and inviting for anyone yearning to dim the lights and take a closer look at themselves. Strangeways is introspective music at its finest.

Melvins @ Headliners Music Hall, Louisville

Melvins, Weedeater, Evil Army and Down
Monday, September 28, 2009
Headliners Music Hall
Better than: Nearly every rock show I've ever seen.

Perhaps it's dry city for Down fans, or maybe too many people just don't like Pantera, but I was expecting sheer mayhem. Hardly anyone was risking their limbs to be up front to, at the least, catch a glimpse of Phil Anselmo or even Jimmy Bower assaulting his drums. It's one of the very few occasions where people care more about the opening act rather than the actual headliner; it was beautiful.

The Melvins graced the stage by 9:00, as promised by Coady Willis whom I had spoken to earlier while waiting in line outside. I caught him before the band was apparently going out to eat (-yeah I know! It's like they're real people too!), and fortunately he remembered me. We had previously spoke after a Big Business show and we talked about tapeworms or something; sorta eerie, but mostly exciting. Buzz came out wearing his signature suede smock/turtleneck thing, immediately breaking into the set's first song, while the band's two drummers, Dale Crover and Coady Willis, pounded ferociously on their two drum sets. Among the night's setlist was Houdini's "Hooch" and "Night Goat," along with "Billy Fish" and "The Kicking Machine" from their '07 release Nude With Boots. The audience was treated to a dose of comedy as well. Between three and four song intervals, Buzz would stop to tell some kind of obscure joke no one really understood (or at least didn't hear over ringing feedback), but we would pretend to laugh and think it's funny anyway. It's Buzz, after all.

The show was great, yada yada. But here's where it really comes down to:

The Melvins have been one* of my favorite bands, at least since 10th grade, and are probably the only artists who have survived my drastic change in apparent 'taste'. This wasn't a promotional tour. The Melvins haven't had a new album since 2008. Ultimately, this tour was for the fans, (and maybe for some money too), but more importantly, for me. So you can probably imagine my immediate reaction when I was personally escorted behind the band's tour bus. Buzz in front of me, and my arms around his neck.

I am an emotional person.

I have no other reaction except to cry.

And to think I never understood those girls in the 70's, who ripped each other's heads off in the presence of John Lennon or Paul McCartney. To me, it was part of the era, and to me it looks ridiculous. But that's just how I was to everyone else. I was the sobbing teenage girl who could barely speak, and when I did, in complete gibberish. The only issue was that I didn't care. You get so overwhelmed with excitement and gratitude that it doesn't even seem real. It's everything you've dreamed of in front of you, and you're hugging it.

I encountered Dale Crover later in the night, along with a couple dudes from Weedeater. I cried in front of them, too. Maybe it was the alcohol (I literally had 12 beers), or it could have been the Buzz overhaul still seeping in, but I couldn't stop. The only thing that really sinks in now is that it was definitely worth coming home extremely late for. I would get grounded for the Melvins any day.

*The list of artists I label as 'one' are usually considered my absolute favorite. Although, given the amount of absolute favorites I actually have, I still feel using the word 'one' lessens Melvins value to me. It's like saying Tom Waits is one of the greatest songwriters of all time. What I mean is that he actually is the greatest songwriter of all time, among others. Therefore, there's no specific way to classify something I consider to the absolute best. I just, like the Melvins...a lot.

Boris- Boris at Last -Feedbacker- (2003)

Not unlike an ominous premonition, the quiet drone of an idle amplifier invites you. The volume dial is cranked up to 10 and engulfs your ears in overdriven chords that are strummed and sustained for what feels like eternity. A second guitar teases its presence with brief shrills wavering in the background. Open string resonating, the first cohesive and structured bar of music enters, complete with plodding drums. It's brooding and damn near melancholic, tinged with the forsaken characteristics of analog equipment: played and recorded on. Fuzz, feedback and repetition are what plague this epic 44-minute song. If you're familiar with remastered editions of classic records, a large majority still and forever will hold the originals as the true work of art, defects and all. The plague that Boris eminates shines through just as gorgeous as anything else. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, of course.

A guitar solo drenched in wah blasts through just as Feedbacker begins climbing to the top of its first peak. The fuzz becomes overwhelming and dominates the mix, sounding more like a disaster of Mother Nature than it does music. It dissipates very quickly and makes space for Japanese sung vocals. Don't worry about translating any of it. Let the emotion of the music translate it for you. However, within minutes, the soul of the Melvins abruptly takes over and launches the massive suite into a stoner rock jam that packs a monstrous punch. The peaks are jagged and refuse to remain in one spot, as the guitars shift from distorted messes to clean tones accentuated with echoes. While only just past its halfway mark, Feedbacker's crescendo comes upon quickly, but sticks around for another eternity. Cymbal crashes become crackling havoc on top of looping drones and feedback for several minutes before the hurricane dies down.

The record ends on a reprise of the original verse, showing evidence that it's stunningly based around a simple song structure; granted, the verses are stretched out to hell and back and it bares little-to-none resemblance to most things one would call music. Feedbacker is a testament to unbridled art, leaving the reins at home to roam wild in its natural state of beauty and ugliness.