SLC Punks/Arts Goggle

In a country of lost souls rebellion comes hard. But in a religiously oppressive city, where half its population isn't even of that religion, it comes like fire.

- Matthew Lillard as Stevo in SLC Punk

Why do we love the Chat Room? Because of stuff like this: Wednesday night, Ben Rogers sees The Future of the Ghost, a touring band from Salt Lake City, performing in Dallas. The next day, he sets up a show at the Chat with TFOTG sandwiched between local lights Sarah Jaffe (whose place on the bill wound up being superseded by some dude named Freddy from a Denton band whose name I didn't catch) and Matthew and the Arrogant Sea (a Denton-based freak-folk outfit that shares a bassplayer with Scene Girls and Eaton Lake Tonics, and just recorded an album in the front room their producer, ELT frontguy Tony Ferraro, shares with Ben -- is that incestuous enough for ya?).

I've never been to Salt Lake City, but I remember Nathan Brown telling me he played a good show there a coupla years back, and of course there's that movie. While I didn't get around to asking the TFOTG kids whether there really ever were mods in SLC (from the looks of 'em, they were prolly in diapers, if that, during SLC Punk's mid-'80s timeframe), I dug their performance, which made me think, "This is what it musta been like seeing Television or, um, the Talking Heads at CBGB's back in the day." (I wouldn't know; back in '74-'75, I was still playing stupid Cream and Allman Bros. songs out on Lawn Guyland.) Maybe it was Cathy Foy's demure presence behind the traps (my sweetie said the drummer reminded her of a more serious Caroline Collier, while I suppose I was getting some kind of mixed Chris Frantz/Tina Weymouth kinda vibe), or perhaps it coulda been frontguy Will Sartain's Television-evocative combo platter of Tom Verlaine gangling angularity and Richard Hell blind idiot glee (when he started kangaroo-hopping all over his corner of the room, I was getting ready to protect the table where we were sitting in case he careened into it). He and Guitar Player #2 (whose name I missed, duh) churned up welters of choke-strummed/E-Bowed atonal noise that I dug lots. (Note to self: Must do "Little Doll" the next time the Stoogeband plays at the Chat.)

Watching Will's exuberant abandon in performance and hearing the sincerity in his onstage raps ("We're really excited to be here!" and the ultimate nerd-guitar hero admission after removing his glasses: "I can't see anything at all!"), I wouldn't have guessed that he's also co-owner of Kilby Court, which looks to be a pretty cool all-ages venue in SLC. TFOTG are in the middle of a two-month cross-country jaunt with no nights off, having just completed the west coast leg and getting ready to swing up through the midwest and head east. My sweetie bought a T-shirt and got a sampler CD of their stuff along with tracks by Kilby Records labelmates TaughtMe and Band of Annuals, all of which made us feel pure 'n' happy when we listened this morning as she got ready to go be an Obama delegate.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot -- when we fell by the Chat, there was a U-Haul truck parked in front and, seeing a bunch of objects on a drop cloth in front, I immediately thought, "Some band musta had trouble with their equipment." This is because I always forget the Arts Goggle is the night before Gallery Night (which I also always forget, unless reminded -- thanks, JSH!). Turns out Metrognome Collective honcho James Watkins rented the truck and was exhibiting works by several artists (including one by Dylan Oriley that was still in progress when we got there). My sweetie sez that Dylan seemed surprised when she asked him how much he wanted for one of his pieces, but we were able to work a transaction (thanks, Brad!) and give the Arts Gogglers what hopefully wasn't their only "little red dot" of the evening. All in all, 'twas DIY-ismo the way it's supposed to be. Yeah!