Monday, July 31, 2006

jesse sierra hernandez

jesse the painter is my friend
he has no web presence to speak of
perhaps someday he will
perhaps not -- i don't know

one thing i am sure of:
he has a solo show coming up
at gallery 414
on saturday, october 14th

ya mo' be theah
(even tho' i'm playin' wit' da stoogeband
at fredtoberfest that night)
so should you be

Sunday, July 30, 2006

fred's back soon? we live in hope...

doo-dah, doo-dah

jennifer chandler writes:

915 Currie Street
Fort Worth, TX
(817) 332-0083

The Inside will be opening this week, HOPEFULLY - Thursday (Aug 3) or Friday (Aug 4). It has been a long haul and we are very excited.

For the first few days, the menu will be limited and we will be opening at 10:30 a.m. to allow training in the mornings on the NEW MENU. But FRENCH FRIES will be on that limited menu!!!

THANK YOU, our GREAT customers, who have kept us going, in more ways than one, during these FIVE months!!!!

Below are the goings on this week:

Tues 08-01:
w/ D.J. Caddo Shadow spinning Old School Country

Wed 08-02:
(ultimate jam band)

Thurs 08-03:
Barber Mack
(reggae, jazz, afro-beat)

Fri 08-04:
St. Frinatra
(cool jazz)

Sat 08-05:
E.M.R.A.G & Friends
(sweet bluegrass jam band)

The Patio is Open:
Monday Thru Saturday
until the Inside is OPEN: hours of operation: 7:00 p.m. - 10:00 p.m.
beer until midnight

Saturday, July 29, 2006


...are appreciated in, um, hawaii, if not closer to home.

this from some dude at

Well, quite a few people will say, "Spot is back," me being one of them, were it not that due to Spot's ultra short existence few would know what I'm talking about. Point is, Reggie Rueffer's voice, lyrics, and driving chords thump home the notion that between Spot then and The Hochimen now, not much has happened in terms of signature sound, which is a good thing. Why, on the other hand, a band around Reggie Rueffer has to remain an obscure affair, complete with stillborn website, a flakey page on My Space, and album entries on without pictures, descriptions, or reviews by the faithful may be an indication of deeper rooted inabilities to play the music industry game with conviction. A shame it is. These are musicians that apparently need to earn a living backing up some C&W artist while they sound on their own as if they'd be able to fill a stadium with screaming Japanese girls. Recognition abroad may not be so bad for this energetic band if they can't cut it at home. But, they'd still need to get their act together, print up stickers, call some radio stations, book themselves a tour, whatever. I wish them the best. I have written stories around my Spot CD, crossed half the nation as it blared through my speakers, before it became played less and less, not because it wasn't good anymore, but hey, I'm no weirdo. So now we have Totenlieder and Tierra del Gato to round out what started with Spot. Definitely all worth a listen, and if you can do it loud while cruising down the freeway you'll be a convert before you run out of gas. These guys deserve the limelight. Somebody (preferably a whole stadium) should tell them how great they are. I don't think they know that.

black dog cafe

stopped by fonky fred's last night to see if the restaurant was open again yet. it wasn't, but soon 'n' very soon. stuck around for a minute to hear jam-meister lee allen sitting in on bass with saint frinatra. i'd never heard him on a straightahead jazz gig before, but as always, he to' it up.

walked over to the black dog to get scarf some chow from the cafe. i'll admit that i was a li'l skeptical at first -- i was one of _those ppl_ telling tad gaither he shoulda got the fajita taco guy back there. but johndavid bartlett has put together a happenin' li'l menu, and i'll prolly be scarfing there and listening to the poets before "i wanna be your [black] dog" thursdays the next few months. jon teague sez the french bread pizzas ($6.95) are righteous (i ordered him a veggie one last time we played 'cos it's tradition in the stoogeaphiles to eat pizza when we play, and you can't jack with tradition). my sweetie swears by the red beans 'n' dirty rice with sausage ($5.95), while my own personal fave is the dirty dog ($3.95) -- a nathan's famous hotdog topped with chili, cheese, spicy brown mustard, chopped onions 'n' chow chow relish (a southern thang i'd never heard of before but sho' good) which i now crave as much as i did corndogs after young marlon vaughan lundy's b-day party and pizza after the last stoogeprac. the cafe's open from 4pm to 1:30pm every night, and it's a fine place to fill up on some hearty nosh for the alkyhol to float on top of. yeah!

blood of the sun

richard hurley must surely have the best taste in rawk of any young (born in da '70s) cat i know besides jon teague. he's into all the late-'60s / early-'70s underground noise i remember from my misspent yoof as a rekkid store clerk -- prog, psych, experimental, blues-rock, bands 'n' artistes like soft machine, robert wyatt, henry cow, gentle giant, van der graf generator, magma, rory gallagher, blodwyn pig(!), src, and on and on. he owns lee pickens (bloodrock)'s stage wardrobe! and he's in a band called blood of the sun that plays in the style of the old, good shit: think mountain, humble pie, cactus, deep purple. they're a _big_ band, too, in the grand old style: two gtrs, bass, drums, hammond organ (played by ex-bill pohl associate dave gryder), and leather-lunged voxxx from mark zammaron, a cat who makes heavyweights like rusty day, james hetfield, ronnie dio, and chris cornell sound like pussies. last time the stoogeaphiles practiced, jon was fucking around with the hi-hat and we played almost all of "mississippi queen." i was thinking then that it'd be cool to make a band that played all the stuff we usedta dig when i was a snotnose, but now i realize that one already exists, only they're writing the stuff themselves. they're finishing a new cd now; can't wait till they get back on the boards.

hurley came out of the same haltom city-riverside axis of evil that produced the me-thinks, alt-country rawkers helldamncrap, '80s metal aficionados the riverside ramblers, and hardcore punkers one fingered fist. jayzus, must be something in the water up there.

Thursday, July 27, 2006

hispanic playwrights festival

From: La Teatrista
Date: Jul 27, 2006 1:10 PM



July 28-30, 7:30 pm Fri-Sat, 2 pm. Sun.

Rose Marine Theatre on 1440 N. Main St. in Fort Worth.

Ticket prices are $5.00 for adults and $3.00 for children under 12.

No reservation is required. For more information please call Rob Bosquez at (682)553-4659.


This years festival takes us to the US/Mexican border, San Antonios riverwalk, a Puerto Rican girls bedroom in the Bronx and the untamed border between animal and human beings.

Nueva Yorks Dennis Vargas script AMERICAN MAMBO takes us to a furnished room in the Bronx of 1957, where two sixteen year old girls dream of running off to American bandstand. Directed by George X Rodriguez.

Grand Prairie based Dr. Robert Nieto, author of CASA RIO, presents THE PARADE in which a families trip to a parade along the San Antonios riverwalk is met with hilarious distractions. Directed by Rob Bosquez and George X. Rodriguez.

Fort Worths Artistic Director, Rob Bosquez presents 3 FROM THE BORDERLINE, a trio of monologues from people on the border
In PALOMINO, a young girl sent to return a horse to her fathers best friend, awakens to find the horse missing.
In RED DIRT COP, a border patrol officer has an epiphany while on the job.
In DOGCATCHER, a womans encounter with a Native American shape shifter reveals her true self.
Directed by Rob Bosquez

the ass-kicking machine

having a rough week -- work, missing my kids, and reading about the unfolding horror in the mideast. about the only web dinkage i have is a daily check of mazen kerbaj's blog. trying to chill out to mercury rev's the secret migration right now, and looking fwd to another "i wanna be your [black] dog" thursday tonight.

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

new pere ubu alb, tour

Press Contact: Fly PR
Ilka Erren Pardinas
T. 323-667-1344

national tour kicks off at UCLA¹s Royce Hall on October 29th

Chicago, IL, Tues., July 25, 2006 ­ Smog Veil Records announces new Pere Ubu release to street on September 19, 2006. National U.S. tour dates are lined-up and the first show is confirmed for UCLA¹s Royce Hall on October 29th.

Why I Hate Women was produced by David Thomas and engineered by Paul Hamann at Suma, Painesville OH (Grand Funk Railroad, The James Gang, The Outsiders, Firehose, Wild Cherry) at various times during 2005, principally in October and November. ³I don't use EQ in the mix stage,² Thomas notes. ³Over the years Paul Hamann has invented and built a number of specialized microphones for my use. They have names like The Box, The Fly's Eye, The Horn, The West, The Phone and The Fan. These microphones² he elaborates ³are designed to capture the sound of an instrument or voice in a very limited frequency range.² He adds ³I don't like using 'store-bought' audio effects, so the effects are from room mics, a spring reverb from an old Hammond B-3, my specialized microphones and maybe an echo plate.²

About the music, the title and the songs Thomas explains ³My work on an album begins as a sound I hear in my head. I construct or intuit a back story to that sonic framework. This back story is more or less detailed and is peopled with characters. The purpose of the album then becomes to capture a specific psychological moment from one of those characters² he details. ³Finally there is the album title. This is the last chance to shape the envelope of that moment. The title came to me as I was sitting in my local pub. Knowing what would lay ahead I was not happy. Weeks went by as I searched in vain for an alternative.²

Frank Mauceri, head of Smog Veil Records is clear about why he wanted to be involved with the band and this release: "The Songbook of American Independent Rock Standards,³ Mauceri states ³if such a book exists, surely lists Pere Ubu, immediately alongside Velvet Underground, as the progenitor of a unique outsider sound. Instead of resting on those laurels, the band expands the known universe with their new album, Why I Hate Women. While maintaining an angular discordance, the band with Why I Hate Women recognizes that fans do occasionally like to tap their toes and hum along while questioning, 'what really is rock 'n' roll anyways?¹" meticulously documents the band¹s history. A sample of the exhaustive chronicling on this site is excerpted here: ³Pere Ubu burst upon the scene in 1975 and changed the face of music. For over 27 years they've defined the art of cult; refined the voice of the outsider; and influenced the likes of Joy Division, Pixies, Husker Du, Henry Rollins, REM, the Sisters of Mercy, Thomas Dolby, Bauhaus, Julian Cope and countless others. They make music that is a disorienting mix of Midwestern riff rock, "found" sound, analog synthesizers, falling-apart song structures and careening vocals. The band¹s single, "30 Seconds Over Tokyo" b/w "Heart of Darkness",
released in 1975, along with Television's "Little Johnny Jewel," signaled the beginning of the New Wave movement.²

Pere Ubu has been written about by some of America and Europe¹s greatest rock journalists. Rolling Stone Magazine noted "Pere Ubu have been neglected pop geniuses for 20 years..." Contemporary music writers, continue to discover and cover the band¹s evolution. Stylus recently wrote "downright irresistible to even the most hardened fuck-all-that-art-wank musical traditionalist." And concurs, opining "They've since put out music that's even more dry, frightening and violent than those early years, so this record documents merely the first of many Ubu mood swings between pop and noise." While blogger Jack Feeny head-scratchingly admits
"I've heard few albums quite so deliberately inaccessible as this one" and concludes ³an excellent fusion of punk and avant-garde art-rock."

Pere Ubu are David Thomas on vocals; Keith Moliné on guitar, backing vocals, bass; Robert Wheeler on EML synthesizer, theremin; Michele Temple on bass, lead vocal and Steve Mehlman on drums, clave, wood block. This is also the line-up that will perform live on tour. On the album, Rodolphe Burger plays stylophone on ³Texas Overture.² Robert Kidney plays lead guitar on ³Love Song.² Jack Kidney plays harp on ³Blue Velvet² and tenor sax on ³Synth Farm.² Andy Diagram plays trumpet on ³Mona.²

The eleven tracks on the album are 1. "Two Girls (One Bar)" (2:28), 2. "Babylonian Warehouses" (4:27), 3. "Blue Velvet" (5:51), 4. "Caroleen" (4:21), 5. "Flames Over Nebraska" (2:07), 6. "Love Song" (6:08), 7. "Mona" (2:47), 8. "My Boyfriend's Back" (0:57), 9. "Stolen Cadillac" (6:14), 10. "Synth Farm" (3:02) and 11. "Texas Overture" (6:12).

Smog Veil is an independent record label based in Chicago, IL (founded in Cleveland, OH). The label is distributed by Koch (Canada), Revolver, Morphius, Super D, CTD, Southern, Choke, Get Hip, Forced Exposure, Surefire, Century Media, Cargo. Radio promotion for the album will be handled by Advanced Alternative Media and Rock Œn¹ Retail will handle marketing. The label¹s other priority releases are Thor: Devastation of Musculation, out on July 25, 2006 and a new album by Unknown Instructors (with Mike Watt of Minutemen, fIREHOSE) out on August 29, 2006.

Visit Pere Ubu online at and the label at for more information and tour updates.

Pere Ubu Tour Itinerary (all dates may be subject to change):
Sun., 10/29 at UCLA - Royce Hall in Los Angeles, CA
Mon., 10/30 at Bottom of the Hill in San Francisco, CA

Wed., 11/22 at Knitting Factory in New York, NY
Thurs., 11/23 TRAVEL DAY
Fri., 11/24 at Beachland Ballroom in Cleveland, OH
Sat., 11/25 at Abbey Pub in Chicago, IL
Sun., 11/26 at 400 Bar in Minneapolis, MN

da kobe on da tube

wow! dig darrin kobetich's "once in a blue moon" on!

amp death

the phrase that pays this season seems to be "...cost more to fix than it's worth."

a few weeks ago, goodwin / ph7 / underground railroad / stoogeaphilia bassist matt hembree's rig went tango uniform. then last night at the wreck room (where i'd gone to see the performance art troupe mujeres sin miedo throw down), wednesday night jam-meister lee allen informed me that the normal channel on his varsity bass head had given up the ghost. then this morning, strange attractors gtrist jeremy diaz wrote from austin to inform me that my ex-twin reverb had gone to the widowmaker. like my dad always usedta say, "these things happen in threes, y'know."

meanwhile, my li'l roland amplet is doing fine at sessions music; owner-operator john zaskoda troubleshot it extensively (used a schematic, even) and said there was nothing wrong, which leads me to believe the brown in my sound of late has been a combo of single-coil pickups (i fried my ears in all those midrange freqs so i can't hear humbuckers so swift -- use earplugs, kids), weak 9Vs, and proximity of gtr to amp. feh. i've been using matt hembree's peavey classic 50 for stoogeaphilia gigs, and am getting to like the sound of tubes again. occasional jamcat brandon wallace has one on consignment at sessions that i think i'm gonna cop, once z-man has given it the once-over. now, if i could just find a big muff to replace the yellow dod piece of shit i've been using.

here's a joke:

q: how can you tell when a middle-aged muso has given up?

a: peavey and squier.

just kidding.

Monday, July 24, 2006

war is hell

i tell myself i can't read the newspaper anymore 'cos it makes me angry / sad to read stuff like this and this, but then i ask myself if my willful ignorance doesn't make me complicit in the shit.


we practiced yesterday for the first time since may 22nd or something. i thought it'd been since the firsat time steffin played with us in april, but that wasn't right -- we learned "raw power" and "i got a right" after that. i hadn't played since july 5th and it felt like forever.

big joe's pizza isn't open on sundays anymore, so i hadda go up to joe's on denton highway to get our two pies. note to self: don't put pizza down near the trash in the shed. ants got all over everything. luckily we're not that picky when we're hungry. matt's legs got bit up too -- a mistake to trust black ants. "real shoes next time," he said.

worked on "ann" and "your pretty face is going to hell." steffin had the idea of flowing "ann" into "real cool time." "your pretty face" seemed like it was going to be a challenge at first but wound up coming together really quickly. steffin's playing lead. only the requisite number of clams but any of the versions we played (except one with a false start when we were all getting tired) woulda worked fine at the black dog.

played for five hours -- longest prac since the second one. it was 106 degrees in the shed. lucky we had lotsa water. my tinnitis is back. need to get some plugs.

busy week coming up -- besides work stuff, my sweetie 'n' i are walking to fred's and the wreck for tammy gomez' thang tonight, then tom'w night looks like the best oppo this week to see kelli and brilee, so i'm gonna have to beg off sitting in on bryce harp's halo lounge gig again (still wanna make it out dere, tho). jam wednesday, stoogegig thursday. gotta chill friday night in preparation for ph7 at el wreck saturday 'n' ten hands in dallas on sunday. whew!

Sunday, July 23, 2006

fort worth cats

kid daniel is threatening to put together 'nother fort worth cats reunion show here in da fort in september. betcha i know where, too.

dudes with instruments, that dude and those guys, trepidation

went to the ridglea theater to see the latest batch of rock camp kidzzz get their rawk on: 14 students ages 9-16, making up three bands that'd been practicing four hours a day, five days a week for the past two weeks under the tutelage of camp instructors lee allen, dave karnes, chris white, and bryce harp in preparation for this event. the results were pert darn impressive: i know lotsa _adult_ musos who'd a had trouble putting together a half-hour set under that kinda time constraint. they even made flyers to promote their show -- a good lesson for aspiring musos: in the real world, marketing 'n' promo are as important as learnin' yr axe and writin' da toons if you wanna make it from the rec room to (at least) the wreck room. besides the moms, dads, siblings 'n' schoolmates, the fair-sized (esp. for a sat'day arvo) crowd included wreck bartender / jam godfather / gideons frontguy carl pack, muso marcus lawyer 'n' his sweetie edjumikator / activist jen cooper, and fred's owner jennifer chandler.

the li'l bit contingent, who dubbed themselves "dudes with instruments" (unfortunate acronym, that) were trained by fwisd itinerant strings teacher, longtime jubilee theatre pit-band mainstay, and multi-instrumental jazz scene fixture chris white. the three diminutive gtrists were dwarfed by their full-size stratocasters, but did a credible job, anchored by a solid riddim section (including a singing drummer) of slightly older players (proving the old adage that if the engine room is tight, you can put anything you want on top). "when _i_ was 9 yrs old, i didn't even know how many strings there were on a gtr," the jam-meister quipped afterward. the tiny toonmeisters were only seemingly defeated by the spectre of chuck berry, proving that the I-IV-V progression ain't necessarily common knowledge anymore. (next time get bryce to show 'em the blues boxes on gtr.)

tops in stagecraft (starting with the thematic costuming -- varicolored jumpsuits -- worn by the three principals) were "that dude and those guys," a pop-rock juggernaut trained by berklee grad / jazz 'n' sunward stickman dave karnes. opening with queen's "fat bottomed girls" (and three-part harmonies!), they played an energetic and rawkin' set, with a pint-sized dynamo of a frontman who was as much of a natural performer as he's prolly the bane of his middle school teachers' existence: a classic smartass in a tradition that goes all the way back to the coasters' carl gardner from the daze before his parents were prolly thought of (or at least were wearing clothes w/safety pins in 'em, pre-punk). there was a real band dynamic between him, the mohawked lead gtrist and the bassplayer. high points o' the set included judas priest "breaking the law" and especially tenacious d's "tribute," which gave the band's somewhat diffident second gtrist a chance to shine on sit-down acoustic. and the closing "hey jude" (with the frontkid on keys -- the next justin pate?) had all the moms 'n' dads sangin' along.

because "the bassplayer quit in the middle of the tour," rock camp-meister lee wound up playin' bass 'n' vocalizin' with the last band, "trepidation," and you could see him working his ass off to keep up with these young fireballs, whose lineup featured three, count 'em, _three_ shredaholic gtrists, on toons like pantera's "cowboys from hell" (dime being only the latest martyr o' the gtr a la jimi, randy, and srv). like every great teacher, tho, he took pains to put himself in the background, hiding from the audience behind a speaker during the opening instrumental "highway to hell" and anytime he wasn't sangin'. a couple of the players (gtrist rowdy carter and drummer chris white -- yeah, the son of _that_ chris white) were familiar faces from previous rock camp performances, and it was impressive to see how much they've gained in chops 'n' confidence in a little over a yr. when trepidation essayed led zep "dazed and confused," i couldn't help thinking to myself, "damn, they play this toon (and follow lee's direction) better 'n the wednesday night jamcats do half the time." the already-high intensity kicked up another level when the singer, gtrist and bassist from that dude and those guys took the stage to rap over trepidation's jams.

overall, as entertaining a show as i've seen this yr from all three bands. they came. they rawked. they put their feet on the monitors.

rock camp starts another session on monday. interested rockers should go to to register.

oh, btw -- my sweetie took some pics.

Saturday, July 22, 2006

blues project

in his bio of noo yawk's "jewish beatles," the blues project, richie unterberger rightly compares 'em to another crew of mid-'60s innovators from across the pond, the yardbirds. the similarities are undeniable: both bands were all over the map stylistically, eclectic 'n' experimental in the best sense, but came up short in the critical songwritin' and sangin' departments. the spawn of leftie radical parents (except for al kooper, a veteran rocker who had already been a member of the royal teens of "short shorts" fame, penned "this diamond ring" for gary lewis & the playboys, and played organ on dylan's "like a rolling stone"), the blues project boasted no less than three lead vocalists, and not a good one among 'em. closest thing they had to a decent lead voice was steve katz's gordon lightfoot-esque baritone; kooper's high, reedy voice wasn't well suited to the role of a soul shouter (which deficiency later got him shitcanned from blood, sweat & tears, a band that he founded). on their good album, 1967's projections, which has just been reished on vinyl, the sound ranges from psychedelia (their cover of blind willie johnson's "i can't keep from crying," replete with coltrane-influenced organ, was a ny free-form fm-radio staple back in the day) to what usedta be called "folk-rock" (the alb was mostly produced by tom wilson, the cat that invented simon & garfunkel; i still dig the katz-penned "steve's song," even tho it sounds kinda like something that coulda been sung by lorenzo st. dubois in the producers and my sweetie dismisses it as "ren-faire music") to rave-up ("wake me, shake me," sung by lightning-fingered gtrist danny kalb, a former folkie studio muso whose acid ingestion soon caused the fracturing of the 'riginal lineup a la peter green, and whose cousin bob taught social studies at my high school and owned the very first bmw i ever saw) to jazz (the band's signature toon "flute thing," sampled with admirable self-awareness by the beastie boys on ill communication's "flute loop") to not-bad whiteguy blooze (jimmy reed's "caress me baby" done up better 'n any of those limey usurpers coulda done it, if not more authentic caucasian bluesmen lahk paul butterfield or charlie musselwhite). if you make allowances for the subpar voxxx (something i'm inclined to do and you should be, too -- listened to the radio lately, have ya?), there ain't a bad cut on this rekkid. of course, i'm highly biased, having first copped it for a coupla bucks off a cutout rack back in 1971 or so.

women without fear - wreckroom fwtx - monday

this from tammy gomez:

From: Sunlit
Date: Jul 22, 2006 9:34 AM

m sin m

mujeres sin miedo
(women without fear)

* MONDAY, JULY 24th * 8pm *
* gratis * Wreck Room * 3208 W. 7th

Tammy Gomez J.P. Markarian
Carla Ayala Angelique Claudia Acosta
Nadja Hamilton Patricia Urbina Kristina Denapolis
Kate McDougal Jason Villarreal

todas somos Atenco

this performance is dedicated to the 45 women who
were raped and/or sexually assaulted, while in
police custody, at Atenco, Mexico in May 2006


Una historia definida por la violación

Atenco una sola palabra simboliza ahora, ante la
opinión pública, el regreso del Estado autoritario
mexicano, la promesa rota de su tan citada transición
a la democracia, los cateos casa por casa, la ilegal
y brutal detención de disidentes, así como su
encarcelamiento por crímenes que no cometieron. Pero
sobre todo, después de tres semanas de la netwar,
Atenco significa en los corazones y mentes de la
opinión públicaviolación.

Atenco significa literalmente violación de policías a
mujeres y al menos a un hombre y también significa,
metafóricamente, violación a los habitantes de un
país, a su dignidad y a su inocencia.

Y, por lo tanto, la historia de violación que es
Atenco se convierte, también, en una historia de
supervivencia, rabia y resistencia del inquebrantable
espíritu de la gente que lucha, incluso cuando la
golpean con todo el fuego, represión y sadismo que el
Estado puede ofrecer. El Estado hiere a muchas mujeres
y hombres. Pero no rompe el espíritu de nadie y mucho
menos el del movimiento.

Qué siga la lucha.

radio birdman

in the "stuff-you-don't-think-can-happen, _can_ happen" department, not only are the stooges and rocket from the tombs back on the boards this yr, so are radio birdman, the band led by expat ann arborite deniz tek that just about single-handedly invented punk in orstralia (yeah, yeah, i know -- the saints were doin' it around the same time, but whatevah). they've got a new alb, zeno beach, and are touring the world this summer, including a handful of 'meercun dates (none, regrettably, below the mason-dixon line). seeing deniz and 'riginal stooge ron asheton with scott morgan's powertrane in ann arbor back in '02 remains a peak experience of mine, and i'm haunted by d.t.'s words to me before that run of shows: "how many 'next times' do you think there are gonna be?"

Friday, July 21, 2006

sonic's rendezvous band

holy shit! easy action records over in the u.k., who've previously released deluxe boxsets on dee-troit icons the mc5 and stooges, are about to drop one on sonic's rendezvous band, the obscuro shoulda-been supergroup featuring former mc5 and stooges members that only released a single 7" during their mid-to-late '70s existence. aficionados of garage-punk roar (this means you, me-thinks fans) should consider making the investment. (here's a link to a lengthy piece i wrote about srb back in prehistory.)

Thursday, July 20, 2006

lebanese improvisor's blog

a spam 'n' boo-shee riddled tentacle of rupert murdoch's evil empahr though it might be, myspace also brings us stuff like this:

From: P.G.
Date: Jul 20, 2006 5:49 PM

Mazen Kerbaj is an interesting young improvisor. He has been posting news from Lebanon.

Mazen Kerbaj's "Starry Night"
- a new piece for solo trumpet improvisation and israeli bombs

6 minute excerpt at:
- - - - - - - - - -

shaking my jones

my dad is like a walking scared-straight for smokers. he's 82 now, and for something like 50 yrs, he burned 4 packs of winstons a day, like some weird incense (prolly smoked at least 2 1/2). he quit 10 yrs ago and his lungs still rattle constantly. i figured my own urge to smoke was triggered by proximity to work, musos, and alcohol (i started smoking cigs around the time i started playing in bands, initially to "disguise" the smell of weed and so i'd have an excuse to have matches 'n' ashtrays in my room) so if i took a wk off from work and two wks off from playing, i might be able to wean myself off the habit. so far so good. i was in the bar for a minute last night and didn't get the urge. kitty case suggested i chew toothpicks instead. will try that out at stooge prac this sunday, then at the jam and stoogeaphilia show next wk.

college radio lives! the state where they make ciggies. this from former here 'tis 'zinester / rockaroll obsessive / fine gentleman jeff jarema, who lives 'n' rawks in chapel hill:

"Red Hot 'n' Humid": Three hours of Southern rock 'n' soul; everything from the obvious (but not overplayed) '60s soul & '70s rock, plus '50s blues & rockabilly, '60s garage bands & Dixie pop, etc. This is not being cross-marketed with either CMT, KFC or NASCAR, therefore we guarantee with 100% confidence that you will not hear "Sweet Home Alabama" or "The Devil Went Down to Georgia"!

Hosts: Jeff Jarema, Blast-off Bob

Thursday, July 20th 9:00 PM - Midnight (US) Eastern
WXYC 89.3 FM
Chapel Hill, North Carolina

If you're in the Chapel Hill area, tune your FM receiver to 89.3 MHz. For remote listeners, go to, select one of the 16k RealAudio or G2 RealAudio streams, or the new 128k MP3 stream or new 64k OGG stream.

"One of the country's most cutting-edge college stations, UNC's student-run WXYC proved how forward-thinking it is in 1994, when it became the first station ever to simulcast its signal over the Internet." ROLLING STONE, 2005

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

the way you look tonight

tonight was my sweetie's b-day, so we went to sardine's for dinner and johnny case played jerome kern's "the way you look tonight" (dorothy fields' lyrics to which are reproduced below) for her. it was boss.

Some day, when I'm awfully low,
When the world is cold,
I will feel a glow just thinking of you...
And the way you look tonight.

Yes you're lovely, with your smile so warm
And your cheeks so soft,
There is nothing for me but to love you,
And the way you look tonight.

With each word your tenderness grows,
Tearing my fear apart...
And that laugh that wrinkles your nose,
It touches my foolish heart.

Lovely ... Never, ever change.
Keep that breathless charm.
Won't you please arrange it ?
'Cause I love you ... Just the way you look tonight.


hahahahahahaha! my middle dtr just introduced me to a site devoted to cats that look like hitler. that intarweb: it's so much more than porn.

ten hands! club dada! september 30th!

we never go to deep ellum. never ever ever. but the last sunday of this month, we're making an exception. reason: a rare reunion performance by ten hands -- maybe _the_ classic band from deep ellum's '90s heyday -- at the resurgent club dada. ten hands frontguy paul slavens remains the best thang on metromess radio (sunday nights on 90.1-fm kera), and the band once played a set at caravan of dreams that my sweetie ranks among the best she's seen -- a long, freewheeling improv that held the audience spellbound while really pissing off the caravan management, who reckoned they were paying to hear familiar toons. we could use more bands with that kind of creativity (and cojones) today.

un fortunate?

since i've been back from va-ca (during which time i gained a new granddtr!), i've been listening to a burned cd-r i got from my middle dtr (the new baby's aunt) of a new foat wuth punkband that's apparently called, um, un fortunate. dunno much about these cats, but their 22-minute, 13-song disc presses a lot of those early-'80s, hyperfrenzied thrashoid punk-polka buttons, albeit in a _slightly_ more melodic way than lotsa classic hardcore 'n' with sardonic humor to boot -- in other words, these youngsters are mos def _not_ more post-green day "pop-punk" spew. (on a somewhat related note, was surprised to hear the damned's "smash it up" on ktcu during afternoon drivetime yesterday, and was reflecting on how britpunk always seemed more like a natch'l outgrowth of glam, where its nyc-cle counterpart was solidly rooted in stones / dylan / velvets.) always nice to hear good new homegrown boo-shee.

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

rockcamp @ ridglea - sat'day 3pm

this from rockcamp-meister lee allen:

Three bands of young people ages 9-16 will perform their favorite rock songs as well as some original material on SATURDAY, JULY 22, 3pm at the RIDGLEA THEATER. These kids have rehearsed four hours a day for two-weeks at Rock Camp to perfect their performance. Come out and beat the heat.


Then, we'll head over to FREDS to watch the DEAD THING that evening.

Monday, July 17, 2006

teatro de la rosa on dvd

if you suck like me and missed a performance, or just want a souvenir o' the event, you can now order dvd's of rose marine theater productions like recuerdos de mi mama, casa rio, los ninos cinco and the recent taming of the shrew online from altre media. dig it!

jimmy page

here's a vid of 14-yr-old jimmy page performing on a bbc talent show with his skiffle band. note his right-hand technique. priceless.

thanks 'n' a tip o' the hat to paul boll for the link.

Sunday, July 16, 2006

so long you crazy diamond

fuck!!! not only did the middle east explode while i was off the 'net, syd barrett checked out, too.

on completing my 49th trip around the sun

yeah boy it's been awhile
since i really had a look at yr mug
(tell me whenthefuck did cops 'n' doctors
start to look like kids?)
and tho you're a li'l longer in the tooth
'n' grayer 'n before,
i still see you the way i remember
when you 'n' i was both still immortal
full of piss 'n' vinegar,
and bullshit, and dreams
altho i can definitely see now
where all o' this eventually leads
i guess we'll keep givin' it hell
for awhile, at least

wow! rock camp gets ink!

i go outta town for a week and look what's in the startlegram!

Friday, July 07, 2006

art of the jam 59

takin' a coupla wks off to rest my feedback-scorched ears, visit the fam in new joisey, and do something extramusical wit' my sweetie on her b'day, but not before chronicling the events o' july 5th's wednesday night jamarama at the li'l wreck room. 'twas a goodun this week, with three drummers, three basses (one of which, unfortunately, went player-less), and a repertoire that ran the stylistic gamut from blooze to funk to reggae to fusion to, um, italian opera. no shee-it.

started out on the li'l stage in wreck west but soon moved to the big stage to take advantage of an andre edmonson mix. (jam-meister lee allen sez the next coupla wks will be on the wreck west side, 'cos andre's heading to colorado to work a festival with the recently-relocated a-hummin' acoustical acupuncture.) drummer brandon wallace rocked the house wit' a minimalist kit of kick, snare, 'n' hi-hat, proving the verity in the age-old adage "less _is_ more." during the course of the night, he ceded his throne to fellow tub-thumpers joe "drumzilla" cruz and jeffrey williams. my trusty roland "amplet" still being in the care of john zaskoda at sessions music, i was using matt hembree's peavey classic 50 (and thinking about buying the one brandon's got on consignment at sessions -- them are ballsy li'l amps, and i'm remembering how much i dig the sound of tubes).

the jam-meister brought his 6-, 5-, and 4-strinng basses, and split the diff w/barber mack leader john shook. megabassist matt hembree was in the house but not in a playin' mood, having spent the evening practicing underground railroad music in anticipation of a planned rehearsal before u.r. gtrist-mastermind bill pohl called to tell him that prac was off and drummer john livingston won't be able to make their planned tour in september. instead, pohl and his partner in crime, keyboardist-vocalist kurt rongey, are planning to accomplish the feat with some combination of kurt kicking the traps, pre-recorded tapes 'n' samples. if anybody can pull off a hat trick like that, it's the u.r. boyzzz. film, as they say, at 11.

crowd wasn't overwhelming on this day-after-a-holiday, but that's often when the jamcats dig deepest into their well o' creative silliness 'n' pull out the funnest 'n' most inventive shite. moving to the big stage wit' trombonist marcus brunt adding his deep sound to the mix (and standing onstage -- the new edict from the jam-meister is "you gotta be onstage to play!"), thangs got started wit' a reggae groove, then increased in intensity with the latest addition to the canon o' jam "standards," namely "school days" by lee-boy's original inspirator stanley clarke (the ex-return to forever bass-master who's 'riginally from strong island, yo). a "maggot brain" that lee pronounced "the best ever" followed, as well as some dark phrygian fury initiated by shook. there was also a 45-second hardcore song dedicated to jam godfather carl pack, who was tending bar to cover for honeymooning master o' libations graham richardson.

my favorite half-hour occurred after we had seemingly knocked off, when i bribed jeffrey williams to play with a shot of goldschlager and we reprised the reggae groove we'd started with, as well as a fonky one lee had broken out on the wreck west side, affording me the opportunity to chuck at length on "the prince chord" (which i think of as "the nathan brown chord," a minor 7th with a 6th 'n' a flat 7th or some such). but even after the other players o' instruments had started packin' it in, john shook didn't wanna stop, and so he continued bass noodlage until he was joined, first by me wit' feedback washes, then by marcus with low-end melodic statements. it weren't polished or developed, but _'twas_ in the spirit o' the jam -- where spontaneous inventions 'n' convos often trump premeditated events. the jam-meister got on the mic, ranting in some unknown tongue, over which i interjected my poor imitation of mongolian throat-singing. then lee sang an aria from donizetti's don pasquale and i added funhouse larfs 'n' other random boo-shee. what made all of this chaos actually listenable was dre's on-the-fly mixology 'n' vocal f/x.

next two wks, you can look forward to hearing darrin kobetich (on july 12th) and villain vanguard axeman bryce harp (on july 19th) at da jam. don't you dare miss it.

Thursday, July 06, 2006

on reflection

i said, "i'm afraid that if i love somebody,
it just gives me something else to lose."

you said, "or something to hold on to."

on reflection, i guess you were right.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

va-ca soundtrack 1.1

upon careful thought 'n' consideration of what might actually be a real good lissen driving around new joisey in a rented car, we've made some 'justments. (we're old; we don't have ipods, but we do have a cd wallet with 28 count 'em 28 slots, and i forgot a coupla these are doubles.) we'll prolly have another iteration of this before sat'day...

laura nyro - the first songs
funkadelic - motor city madness (double)
slunky side - compilation
thelonious monk quartet w/john coltrane live at carnegie hall (double)
bindle - compilation
boris - pink
stoogeaphilia live at the wreck room 6/7/2006
jk music mix - cd-r compilation
built to spill live
elvis costello with burt bacharach - painted from memory
mike watt - contemplating the engine room
richard hell - spurts: the richard hell story
pere ubu - terminal tower
woodeye - such sweet sorrow
various - bossa nova brasil
public enemy - fear of a black planet
joe strummer & the mescaleros - streetcore
top secret...shhh
hochimen - tierra del gato
gang of four - entertainment!
tom waits - the early years vol. 2
lou reed - new york
bob mould - workbook
television - marquee moon
nels cline singers - the giant pin
died pretty - doughboy hollow

i'm not obsessive-compulsive, i just like to wash my hands.

blue cheer

holy fucking shit! blue cheer -- the non-peace-'n'-luv face of san francisco ca. '68, who made their name back in the day for being louder 'n' more outta control than cream and the hendrix experience put together and pretty much established the template for such latter-day exemplars of heaviosity as the melvins, sleep, sunn o))), earth, et al. -- be's at hailey's in denton on july 14th, with two bona fide 'riginal members (that'd be vocalist-bassist dickie peterson 'n' drummer paul whaley). regrettably, my sweetie 'n' i will be outta town that particular night, but were we able, i can't think of a better way to spend bastille day than getting steamrollered by the cheer. wear earplugs and remember to yell for "out of focus."

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

my new role model

Monday, July 03, 2006

dig katboy jampixxx

previously on l.a. law, i've noted the existence of katboy's stoogeaphilia archive, which was recently updated with photographic documentation of the two most recent stoogeaphilia gigs.

here are some pics katboy took while he wasn't onstage at the wreck room's invitational jam a coupla weeks ago. the handsome mofos depicted, live 'n' in living color, are me 'n' darrin kobetich (gtrs), jeffrey williams (drums), jam-meister lee allen and john shook (basses). click on the pics to make 'em big!

va-ca soundtrack

because i'm sure if you're reading this you giveashit, here's a list of the cd's my sweetie 'n' i are taking along on our trip to new joisey next week:

pere ubu - terminal tower
unknown instructors - the way things work
richard hell - spurts: the richard hell story
stoogeaphilia - live at the wreck room 6/7/2006
television - double exposure
thelonious monk quartet with john coltrane at carnegie hall
slunky side - cd-r compilation
funkadelic - motor city madness
laura nyro - the first songs
little walter - hate to see you go
elvis costello with burt bacharach - painted from memory
john coltrane - one down, one up: live at the half note
frank zappa - you are what you is
built to spill - live
top secret...shhh
bindle - cd-r compilation
mike watt - contemplating the engine room
woodeye - such sweet sorrow
various - bossa nova brazil
public enemy - fear of a black planet
captain beefheart and the magic band - spotlight kid/clear spot
joe strummer & the mescaleros - streetcore
new york dolls - a hard night's day
jk music mix - cd-r compilation
hochimen - tierra del gato
tom waits - the early years vol. two
james hinkle - straight ahead blues?
beach boys - pet sounds
captain beefheart - doc at the radar station
boris - pink

Sunday, July 02, 2006


listening to sleater-kinney on my middle dtr's ipod, digging their rawk versus pop sense, thinking what a drag it is that they broke up and making a mental note that i need to hunt down a copy of the woods.

ph7, barber mack, sleeplab

walked up to the li'l wreck room last night for an evening of reggae 'n' groove. topping the bill was pablo and the hemphill 7, fresh from playing what mighta been their biggest crowd ever at 8.0's during the fweakly music awards thang last sunday. (damien stewart: "nah. the [february 2002 ridglea theater] wailers show was bigger.") supporting ph7 were barber mack, sporting a full percussion section (that'd be confusacat lucas white on traps and josh clark on evathing else) due to a scheduling conflict that didn't eventuate, and sleeplab, without trumpeter brian sharp (who'd joined them for _their_ 8.0's/fweakly set) but with both bassist matt skates and vocalist crystal casey on the same stage. (ah, these crazy kids 'n' their drama-drama.)

got there midway through sleeplab's set, but they sounded impeccably chill and looked damn good as always. i was surprised to hear normally-taciturn bandleader jeffa actually talking to the crowd. ran into me-thinks / stoogeaphilia front dude ray liberio, who was dividing his time between the wreck room and the black dog, where the ear hustlers and mockinbird cartel were holding forth.

got to meet barber mack leader-bassist john shook's mom, and 'splained to her that altho i've known john since he was a teenager (he be's 24 now), i'd always thought he was like 10 yrs older 'cos he's so damned _centered_. his band's set was maybe the best one i've seen 'em do yet (and i've missed a couple). with lucas holding down the loping groove and josh providing all manner of accents 'n' fills for coloration, there was plenty of room for the string players to stretch out 'n' extemporize, which they did with abandon. the contrast between andrew skates' bright, effect-free telecaster and ron geida's darker, treated les paul is always striking, while shook is, i repeat, the best point-to-point bassplayer here in da fort. just ask jam-meister lee allen (who was present, after working the kobetich bros. day o' acoustic jamarama at fonky fred's, attired in his standard outlaw chef tee rather 'n the snazzy mafia suit he had on for graham richardson's wedding the night before) -- he calls shook "jaco," and means it, too. in fact, starting with ernest ranglin's "papa's bag juice" (which ron 'splained "is jamaican for miller high life"), every toon got stratospheric. skates lit some fireworks on the fonked-up version of wayne shorter's "footprints," while geida got the crowd stirred up with his beckoid (jeff, not that guy from cali) flight on the maytals' "funky kingston." shook took the lead 'n' played the head on barber mack's one-drop rendition of coltrane's "mr. p.c." and it seemed muy appropriate that the jesse sierra hernandez rendering of the pic from trane's sunship alb was visible behind the musos. great band; now if they could just do two gigs in a row with the same drummer...

"we love you _long time_," said pablo frontcat joe vano, and his band delivered on da promise, with a 16-song set with encore that transported the crowd (which included a lotta new faces in addition to ph7's "regulars," a positive sign) to that ecstatic place where pablo likes to go.

in between bands, former ph7 bassist marcus lawyer spun vinyl, including his groovy top secret...shhh elpee that a few audience mbrs left clutching copies of. post-marcus, matt hembree's transition into the lineup appears to have been smoove, which makes sense, as he'd previously played with steffin ratliff and justin pate in bindle and still plays with damien stewart in goodwin. matt's the kinda muso who _can't_ play enough; after a two-hour set with pablo, he'll go home 'n' fall asleep playing his bass, and onstage, he projects the pure joy o' playing music like no one else i know. in stoogeaphilia, he's known for shedding his shirt mid-set; this particular night with pablo, he was barefoot, which seemed somehow appropriate. a high point o' the night for me was watching him bouncing up and down during the outro to "the front," then turning back and seeing the whole crowd doing the same thang. with hembree on board, ph7 adds three-part vocal harmonies to their onstage bag o' tricks, and his addition to the stewart-ratliff-pate axis brings new depth to the tuffest / tightest riddim section in town (remember, _every_ instrument is a riddim instrument, including yr voice).

other highspots: steffin's turn as a ska-crazed dick dale on his namesake feature "le razor" (for my fitty cent, mr. ratliff remains the most-underrated axe-slinger in this here metromess); a new cover of "get down moses" from joe strummer's great streetcore album (one of the first gifts i gave my sweetie when we started dating and still a frequent spin at mi casa; josef v. 'n' i share a 'preciation for "it's all in a day" and strummer's take on marley's "redemption song" from the alb, too); and the set closing "rude boy," which remains pablo's finest recorded moment imo and my fave toon of theirs after "freedom." hearing these songs in my living-room-three-miles-from-home is _wish fulfillment at its best_. so dere.

Saturday, July 01, 2006

patrick's back

that's right, you heard right: the patio king is blogging again, this time on myspace.

haiku for steve steward

evabody finds
da realest schitt they can
to make their model

goose dance

last coupla performances of the family drama goose dance be's at the rose marine theater this saturday night at 7:30pm and sunday afternoon at 2pm. the play's co-directed by claudia acosta and the cast includes local heavyweight rob bosquez, with music by barber mack honcho john shook. ya mo' be theah sunday. maybe you too?

art of the jam 58

this one here's gonna be a lo-o-o-ong one.

busy week, one without a lotta time for bloggage, what with some out-of-town action for my straight and more-than-usual music playage. wednesday was the 49th anniversary of my arrival on the planet, so what better way to spend it than with a gtr in my hand for seven hrs? to wit: first, the "josh clark and fort worth's finest" jam at fonky fred's from 7 to 10pm, then lee and carl's jam at the li'l wreck room at 10:30, culminating in yet another installment of "stooges at midnight" with stoogeaphilia. then the next night, a full-blown stoogeaphilia throwdown at the black dog. to facilitate this, my sweetie had kitted me out with an assload of 9V batteries, 6-inch patch cords (replacing my old rat's nest of cords), and a stainless steel slide (been wanting to reacquaint myself with what rev. gary davis called a "cheating way of playing" since digging da kobe slithering around with a slide on his les paul at last week's wreck room extravaganza), all of which she procured from new-father-o'-twins john zaskoda at sessions music. (only afterward did i realize i shoulda asked her for a gtr stand too. guh!)

learned that outlaw chef terry chandler and i share a berfday, which jam-meister lee allen was gonna celebrate with a surprise (for terry at least) party and jam event at el wreck, but at the last minute, the josh clark portion was moved back to fred's ('cos you can't get a fredburger at el wreck). i busted out of work around 6 and made a mad dash to la casa to load gear and pick up my sweetie and thence to fred's, where josh, barber mack leader-bassist john shook (who be's at the wreck with pablo and the hemphill 7 and sleeplab tonight), gtrist-luthier cameron streck, and the jam-meister were already setting up. i parked my borrowed peavey classic 50 (thanks, matt) on the stage, plugged in all my pedals, and headed for the bar to get a beer. after timely pause, violinist steve huber and trombonist marcus brunt arrived, and the jam kicked off. 'twas kind of an amorphous thang, moreso (quoth the jam-meister) than in weeks past when i was using the time to chill out at la casa before heading to el wreck. josh's trapwork was as crisp and groovin' as always, and cameron's an inventive player with a highly tweaked sound. steve was mostly inaudible to me, while big marcus brunt was his classic self on his big bass trombone. myself, i wasn't really feelin' it yet, but 'twas interesting to see the jam-meister in the role of a regular sit-in jamcat, rather than driving the bus. anyway, 10 o'clock rolled around pert darn quick, so lee-boy 'n' i loaded out and headed for el wreck, where wizard o' sound andre edmonson was already preparing a place for us.

villain vanguard gtrist bryce harp was there too, sporting a shiner he'd received in the parking lot at j&j's blues bar from some cat that wanted to sit in with the villains on drums and was irate when bryce didn't recognize him. living well's always the best revenge, and bryce went on to play two more sets, channeling all dem negative vibes into 6-string transcendental bliss, but jayzus -- you gotta wonder 'bout the fragile egos on some folks. as gawd is my co-pilot, i swear that sometime in july (prolly after my sweetie 'n' i get back from visiting my folks 'n' the bucolic li'l community where she spent her wonder yrs in new joisey), i'm gonna sit in on bryce's tuesday-night solo gig at the halo lounge over by tcu. marcus brunt showed up, thoughtfully returning the brand-new slide i'd inadvertently left at fred's in my first-but-hardly-last sloppy-ass loadout o' the week. bless him. also in da house: goodwinites daniel gomez 'n' tony diaz, there to see their bandmate hembree take his shirt off 'n' get on the floor.

da jam started out wit' bryce and a cat on drums whose name i didn't catch (shame on me) who i think usedta play wit' the gideons. played through some jam standards like "if you want me to stay," "sexual harassment in the workplace," "standing on the verge," and "come together" (the last two with jam godfather / gideons front carl pack vocalizin'). my sweetie (abetted by fellow stoogeaphiliac / ph7 gtrist steffin ratliff) brought out my cake and i got to blow out 49 candles (the one in the top right was giving me grief for a sec but in the end, i prevailed). long-absent jamcat joe "drumzilla" cruz briefly returned to the fold for a toon or two. in what seemed like a brief flicker, 'twas time for stoogeaphilia.

because i was lame and didn't write a setlist, i suggested to frontguy / graphic artist extraordinaire / me-think ray liberio that he call 'em as he went along, but jon teague (who also kicks traps with the great tyrant, if ya didn't know) had a better idea. "let's just play funhouse," he said. jon's full o' ideas -- the feedback meltdown that's become traditional at the end of stoogeaphilia's set was his, too. (note to self: _earplugs_!!! hunh?) highpoint o' the set for me was seeing daniel gomez lying on the stage shooting pixxx of matt, his 15-yr bandmate from muffinhead, uncle pete's parade and bindle before goodwin. and banging my gtr on the amp so hard it apparently bent the E string at the fifth fret so badly i had to change it before it was playable at the black dog the next night. jeez, i don't know my own strength. not bad for a mothafucka almost half a century old. hembree sez his minidisc recording turned out well, especially "1970." can't wait to hear and maybe put up on the stoogeaphilia myspace thingy.

spent most of thursday recuperating (my straight lets its employees take a day off for our berfdays, bless them) before stepping out to sardines for din-din wit' my sweetie 'n' my middle dtr. piano-meister / activist johnny case had left a msg while i was still conked, informing me that his bro. jerry was in town from l.a. and would be sitting in on gtr. i ate my usual thangs -- calamari appetizer, which ray liberio sez looks "like fried spiders," and zuppa di pesce; our waiter mark brought me a complimentary berfday cannoli in place of my customary tiramisu -- and dug much hearing the confluence of johnny's deep well of invention, his brother's ultra-smooth attack, byron gordon's always-surprising walks 'n' solos on bass, and don sowell's economical swing, which seems to become more aggressive in the presence of another solo instrument. saint frinatra percussionist ron thayer, who usedta play with jerry case back in the day, was in the house shooting pixxx, and eminently tasteful axe-slinger sam walker came strolling in moments before we had to depart. 'twas almost enough to make me wish i didn't have a gig that night. _almost_.

stopped back at la casa long enough to take a call from hembree, who was at the black dog and had just discovered that another band had absconded with one of the p.a.'s speaker cables. a hurried call to wizard o' sound andre and a stop off at the wreck room later, 'twas taken care of (note to self: return andre's cord to el wreck!). proof positive bands are lame, if not larcenous: why would somebody load out something they didn't bring with? (answer: alcohol + endorphin high = sloppy loadout.) the crowd was about half the size of our previous black dog stand, and half of 'em (including a buncha outta town peeps from liberio's straight) left in between sets (possibly to go next door, where jazz gtrist keith wingate and the heffley brothers were laying it down -- damn, is thursday becoming a good night for live music in da fort or what?!?!?), but no matta. i bought jon teague a pizza to compensate for the fact that i'd fukkked up and neglected to bring a coupla pies from big john's in haltom city (another stoogeaphilia tradition but prolly not politically correct, since johndavid bartlett's slinging righteous chow at the black dog cafe).

ray "ordered from the menu" (that's to say, called toons from our setlist from the last time we played the dog) and we blew through "real cool time," "down on the street," "loose," "1969," "no fun," "i got a right," and "search and destroy" in what seemed like no time, mellowing down easy into the break with "dirt," our one slow song. my dtr and her b-f were in da house for the first set, as was mi amigo frank logan (who usedta work door at the aardvark and played with me in two bands that never got out of the prac pad; he got called up by the army reserves last december and just got back from afghanistan, where we're hoping he won't have to return). second set featured all the extended workouts. started with "not right," followed by "raw power," "dog, i wanna be your" (with lotsa gtr pyro from steffin), "tv eye," "1970," and "funhouse," culminating in a shuddering "little doll" feedback apocalypse. hembree's minidisc crapped out for most of the set, but he sez he got some interesting audience-talk snippets from after we finished, including me telling standard transmission bassist chuck brown that "this is the only band i've ever been in in 35 years where i get endorphin buzzes at practice" and "we practice making noises and feedback." matt also said that right before "little doll," there's a female voice yelling, "that was bad ass! you guys rock! you rock baby! bring it on! lay it on the table baby! bring the music on to me baby! i feelin' that orgasm comin' on!" (that's right, kids -- stooge music is _sexy_. then again, i also think cecil taylor and boris music is sexy, so whatthehell do _i_ know?!?!?)

stoogeaphilia be's at the dog the last thursday o' the month for the rest o' the yr, and we're also playing fredtoberfest october 14th. trying to hook up a show at the darkside lounge in deep ellum, too; film, as they say, at 11. next coupla months are packed with extracurricular hoo-hah, what with me goin' to joisey next weekend, ray going to seattle and jon to japan in august, and matt touring with the underground railroad (whose gtrist bill pohl is back in action after surgery to correct tendonitis and is performing with eric martin, 99 names of god's mark cook, and contemporary dance fort worth at the modern art museum at 1pm this sunday) in september. soon as thangs settle down a bit, we wanna start breaking in some new material, possibly by stooge-influenced outfits like pere ubu, the voidoids, and black flag (as teague sagely points out, the name "stoogeaphilia" covers a whole lotta law).

so friday night we went to the southside preservation hall to see ex-woodeye bassist / wreck room master o' libations graham richardson 'n' his sweetie robin get hitched by none other than his pal carey wolff, who's apparently got a certificate of ordination from some online non-denominational religious entity. their former bandmates scott davis 'n' kenny smith are now backing singer-songwriter jason eady as well as playing in chatterton; a positive thang, since those cats can make _anybody's_ song sound better. 'twas quite a heart-tugger looking around the li'l chapel and realizing, "wow, almost all our friends are here," and watching graham 'n' robin take their first dance at the reception, where the velvet love box boyzzz were holding forth.

vlb looks like a li'l acoustic outfit but sounds like a big rawk band. scott cloud uses more devices than yr average acoustic-plunker to light up them strings real fine, while brandon bumpas presides over the world's largest percussion rig that sounds like a trap kit at times, owing to his quasi-telepathic communication with bassist neil schnell (whose lower-register thumpage does a pert fair job of replicating the sound of a kick drum) and all three of 'em sing like angels. watching the army of li'l kids dancing (and even stage-diving, sorta) as brandon kicked on the bubble machine -- kinda like a variant on marlin von bungy's sterling smoke-machine manipulation with the me-thinks -- i couldn't help thinking, "love wears the white stetson." yeah, it truly does.