"jon teague weekend" @ the chat room
went to the chat room sat'day night for the great tyrant's cd release party. the tyrant played maybe the best set i've ever heard by them, altho every one i've heard has been different, ranging from spookily atmospheric to full-on pummeling. this particular night they were in a proggy mood; daron beck toned down the campy shock-horror shtick and just crooned in his natural "matinee idol from hell" voice, like bryan ferry crossing the styx, while tommy atkins' monolithic bass came within a hair's breadth of hitting the "miguel veliz brown note" and jon teague (who performed at the chat both sat'day and sunday this weekend, hence the ridiculous title of this post) provided ample evidence of why he's a lot of ppl's favorite drummer (as calvin abucejo from pussyhouse propaganda / asian media crew put it, "every hit sounds _so good_"). the tyrant's "candy canes"/"walking through walls" single-with-four-song-cd is a must-hear, and apparently the top-selling record at good records in dallas right now. before them, the healers sounded (in katboy's words) "like the mars volta as a screamo band," and cadillac fraf played a solo set of post-punk dustbowl ballads.
sunday night the li'l stoogeband (jon's other band, in case you didn't know) had its first outing since, um, november, and our first time at the chat room. can't say enough about the room (has a neighborhood bar vibe like our dear departed wreck room), the helpful 'n' hardworking staff, and the hip crowd (lotsa stoogefans among de yoof and first time i've ever had someone in foat wuth wanna talk to me about glenn branca), and we definitely wanna play there s'more. as my sweetie sayeth, ben rogers is "the andre edmonson of the south side," and the cat running sound (whose name escapes me at the moment; alcohol = the memory eraser!) did yeoman work. i couldn't hear anything from the bindle side of the stage, and matt 'n' sir steffin couldn't hear me, but the energy in the room was happenin', with sir steffin's adroit axework on "marquee moon" a particular highlight, and we were actually responsible for the chat room's very first noise complaint! a uniformed officer of the law showed up and asked them to close the door! and ben asked us to turn down! 'twas awesome!
sxsw-bound angelenos spindrift (featuring foat wuth expat julie patterson on keys) were up next with their spooky, morricone-western / tarrantino soundtrack brand of psychedelia. (their shiny silver disc the legend of god's gun is an actual soundtrack to a feature-length western starring the band.) i was unduly impressed by 1) the way mainman kirkpatrick thomas looks like joe preston; 2) henry evans' double-necked danelectro delight, a bass-and-baritone-guitar combo; 3) riddim gtrist dave koenig's semihollow vox (always dug the distinctive headstocks on those); 4) the design on their bass drum head; and 5) the fact that they brought their own lighting rig. bought a ceedee, too.
i was under instructions from stella rose bassplayer mckenna madget's bass teacher, fw symphony/flipside hotso paul unger, to give her shit about her hand position, but i wound up being muy impressed at how much these foat wuth youngsters have grown as a band since i saw 'em at the wreck a coupla yrs back, proving once 'n' for all that pretty people _can_ rawk out with abandon -- even ones that cite bush as a primary influence. i dug the fact that drummer matt mabe wears black gloves -- and that when it was announced the band who were supposed to open would be closing instead, frontman stephen beatty nipped incipient booing in the bud with a simple, "hey, don't do that -- that's not cool." classy kid.
that band was restaurant, a coupla dudes from victoria, texas (way down south past austin 'n' new braunfels) with a harry partch/art project looking percussion rig, who got delayed 'cos they stopped for sleep in albuquerque enroute back from a west coast tour. they wound up taking the show with an abbreviated set of mutant rustic jams that reminded me of the immortal lee county killers, katboy of mojo nixon & skid roper, and my sweetie of the chickasaw mudd puppies, to give you an idea of the turf they inhabit. would dig to hear a full set by them sometime. proof positive that eclectic bills rule, and the chat room is a worthy spot. even if the jukebox there is smarter than i am.
sunday night the li'l stoogeband (jon's other band, in case you didn't know) had its first outing since, um, november, and our first time at the chat room. can't say enough about the room (has a neighborhood bar vibe like our dear departed wreck room), the helpful 'n' hardworking staff, and the hip crowd (lotsa stoogefans among de yoof and first time i've ever had someone in foat wuth wanna talk to me about glenn branca), and we definitely wanna play there s'more. as my sweetie sayeth, ben rogers is "the andre edmonson of the south side," and the cat running sound (whose name escapes me at the moment; alcohol = the memory eraser!) did yeoman work. i couldn't hear anything from the bindle side of the stage, and matt 'n' sir steffin couldn't hear me, but the energy in the room was happenin', with sir steffin's adroit axework on "marquee moon" a particular highlight, and we were actually responsible for the chat room's very first noise complaint! a uniformed officer of the law showed up and asked them to close the door! and ben asked us to turn down! 'twas awesome!
sxsw-bound angelenos spindrift (featuring foat wuth expat julie patterson on keys) were up next with their spooky, morricone-western / tarrantino soundtrack brand of psychedelia. (their shiny silver disc the legend of god's gun is an actual soundtrack to a feature-length western starring the band.) i was unduly impressed by 1) the way mainman kirkpatrick thomas looks like joe preston; 2) henry evans' double-necked danelectro delight, a bass-and-baritone-guitar combo; 3) riddim gtrist dave koenig's semihollow vox (always dug the distinctive headstocks on those); 4) the design on their bass drum head; and 5) the fact that they brought their own lighting rig. bought a ceedee, too.
i was under instructions from stella rose bassplayer mckenna madget's bass teacher, fw symphony/flipside hotso paul unger, to give her shit about her hand position, but i wound up being muy impressed at how much these foat wuth youngsters have grown as a band since i saw 'em at the wreck a coupla yrs back, proving once 'n' for all that pretty people _can_ rawk out with abandon -- even ones that cite bush as a primary influence. i dug the fact that drummer matt mabe wears black gloves -- and that when it was announced the band who were supposed to open would be closing instead, frontman stephen beatty nipped incipient booing in the bud with a simple, "hey, don't do that -- that's not cool." classy kid.
that band was restaurant, a coupla dudes from victoria, texas (way down south past austin 'n' new braunfels) with a harry partch/art project looking percussion rig, who got delayed 'cos they stopped for sleep in albuquerque enroute back from a west coast tour. they wound up taking the show with an abbreviated set of mutant rustic jams that reminded me of the immortal lee county killers, katboy of mojo nixon & skid roper, and my sweetie of the chickasaw mudd puppies, to give you an idea of the turf they inhabit. would dig to hear a full set by them sometime. proof positive that eclectic bills rule, and the chat room is a worthy spot. even if the jukebox there is smarter than i am.
posted by stashdauber at 10:30 AM
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