loco macheen, gideons, me-thinks
fell by fonky fred's enroute to the third night of ninth anniversary festivities at the li'l wreck room to scarf some good chow (outlaw chef terry chandler's cooking his justifiably famous specials agin, as well as the famous fredburger) and hear emporia, kansas-based jamband loco macheen. (the kansas kidzzz have an alter ego band, bluegrass warriors the dewayn brothers, in much the same way as some of the dead usedta moonlight as the new riders of the purple sage back in the day. two bands for the price o' one, what's not to like?) the machine tears it up in the classic style, with a good bit more energy than lotsa blissed-out, tie-dyed outfits. eric "the boy" nelson has sat in on blues harp with the wreck's wednesday night jamcats, while joshua finley's electrified wah-wah mandolin is worth the price of admission all by its lonesome. they remind me of a band i woulda heard playing on a flatbed truck in a park in albany, ny, ca. '74. in the best possible way.
then, onward to the wreck to hear the gideons and me-thinks.
"we don't get a chance to do this much anymore," said carl pack to open the gideons' set, "so you all can line up and suck my dick." i never got to see the gideons back in the day (they were 'riginally a band between '96-'98, when i was still working three jobs and playing in shitty blues and coverbands), altho i usedta moonlight at borders with their bassplayer hardy and i've been present on a few occasions when carl got up to front gtrist chuck rose's latter-day band brother tex. if their rep to date has been that of a crew with the correct punk-rock spirit that was pretty chaotic, to put it mildly, on a musical lvl, their new lineup (carl, chuck, tcu philosophy prof "johnny singularity" on bass, and new drummer scott) surely qualifies as the most improved bowler in the local band sweepstakes. the proximate model is prolly black flag in the way they seesaw back 'n' forth between punk and metal, with chuck and johnny locking in tight on the riffage before the gtrist takes off on fuzzed-out stratospheric flights. as my sweetie points out, johnny bears more than a passing resemblance to fort worth cats bassist david "kid" daniel, except johnny's stage trip is more leanin'-fwd-and-headbangin', in contrast to kid's splay-legged, bent-back modified rockabilly stance. having come close to destroying the stage at the wednesday night jam following gideons prac, carl was gassed, stoked and ready to go, but sober (drankin' water in place of ice 101), and was able to project the proper 'tood in his snarl whether hopping in place or occupying the piece of stage in front of the monitors. afterward, he was heard to remark, "this is even better when you're not fukkked up." p'rhaps he's discovered the endorphin rush that performing brangs 'n' alcohol masks. or maybe he was just diggin' the validation of having a big crowd diggin' his band, 10 yrs down the road.
the me-thinks have finally finished tracking their long-awaited double-e.p.-on-a-single-disc, and will prolly mix the last three songs in the week between their wreck room stand and fredfest. the months in each other's pockets in the studio have tightened 'em up, and they played one of their tightest shows ever. onstage visual focal point sir marlin von bungy rolled out some new moves (raising a foot in the front as well as his trademark leanin'-fwd-on-one-foot-like-a-statue; drankin' a beer while trilling away during every solo). drummer / evil genius will risinger was more vocal than usual, callin' the toons and makin' the onstage announcements, while frontman ray liberio played most of the set with his eyes closed, riding the big wave of sound. they opened with turbonegro's "dungaree high" and "denim demon" and then tore through most of the double e.p. toons. high point o' the set for me was hearing the live debut of "god bless haltom city" ("hell yeah, hell yeah"), the rawk anthem in praise of their stomping grounds that the band co-opted from will's napoleon complex side project.
after those two performances, headliners dixie witch wound up coming off as the least individuated band of the night, altho the singing, double-bass playing drummer reminded me of what it might sound like if wednesday night jamcat joe "drumzilla" cruz was also a vocalist. in any event, my weekly allergy-induced sinus headache had made its appearance midway through the me-thinks' set, so my sweetie and i opted to tab out and head home to fall asleep listening to harry partch's "u.s. highball" and thankin' about the characters from rob bosquez' paloma (which the cat in the startlegram panned this morning, but then again, that paper's reviewer also said that three kings was "the film of the year" or some such swill, so you gotta take that stuff with a grain o' salt the size of lot's wife or something). full circle.
then, onward to the wreck to hear the gideons and me-thinks.
"we don't get a chance to do this much anymore," said carl pack to open the gideons' set, "so you all can line up and suck my dick." i never got to see the gideons back in the day (they were 'riginally a band between '96-'98, when i was still working three jobs and playing in shitty blues and coverbands), altho i usedta moonlight at borders with their bassplayer hardy and i've been present on a few occasions when carl got up to front gtrist chuck rose's latter-day band brother tex. if their rep to date has been that of a crew with the correct punk-rock spirit that was pretty chaotic, to put it mildly, on a musical lvl, their new lineup (carl, chuck, tcu philosophy prof "johnny singularity" on bass, and new drummer scott) surely qualifies as the most improved bowler in the local band sweepstakes. the proximate model is prolly black flag in the way they seesaw back 'n' forth between punk and metal, with chuck and johnny locking in tight on the riffage before the gtrist takes off on fuzzed-out stratospheric flights. as my sweetie points out, johnny bears more than a passing resemblance to fort worth cats bassist david "kid" daniel, except johnny's stage trip is more leanin'-fwd-and-headbangin', in contrast to kid's splay-legged, bent-back modified rockabilly stance. having come close to destroying the stage at the wednesday night jam following gideons prac, carl was gassed, stoked and ready to go, but sober (drankin' water in place of ice 101), and was able to project the proper 'tood in his snarl whether hopping in place or occupying the piece of stage in front of the monitors. afterward, he was heard to remark, "this is even better when you're not fukkked up." p'rhaps he's discovered the endorphin rush that performing brangs 'n' alcohol masks. or maybe he was just diggin' the validation of having a big crowd diggin' his band, 10 yrs down the road.
the me-thinks have finally finished tracking their long-awaited double-e.p.-on-a-single-disc, and will prolly mix the last three songs in the week between their wreck room stand and fredfest. the months in each other's pockets in the studio have tightened 'em up, and they played one of their tightest shows ever. onstage visual focal point sir marlin von bungy rolled out some new moves (raising a foot in the front as well as his trademark leanin'-fwd-on-one-foot-like-a-statue; drankin' a beer while trilling away during every solo). drummer / evil genius will risinger was more vocal than usual, callin' the toons and makin' the onstage announcements, while frontman ray liberio played most of the set with his eyes closed, riding the big wave of sound. they opened with turbonegro's "dungaree high" and "denim demon" and then tore through most of the double e.p. toons. high point o' the set for me was hearing the live debut of "god bless haltom city" ("hell yeah, hell yeah"), the rawk anthem in praise of their stomping grounds that the band co-opted from will's napoleon complex side project.
after those two performances, headliners dixie witch wound up coming off as the least individuated band of the night, altho the singing, double-bass playing drummer reminded me of what it might sound like if wednesday night jamcat joe "drumzilla" cruz was also a vocalist. in any event, my weekly allergy-induced sinus headache had made its appearance midway through the me-thinks' set, so my sweetie and i opted to tab out and head home to fall asleep listening to harry partch's "u.s. highball" and thankin' about the characters from rob bosquez' paloma (which the cat in the startlegram panned this morning, but then again, that paper's reviewer also said that three kings was "the film of the year" or some such swill, so you gotta take that stuff with a grain o' salt the size of lot's wife or something). full circle.
posted by stashdauber at 10:15 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home