i'm looking fwd to this. the recording may or may not be done in a horse barn; i'm advocating field recordings of the animals. i'm interested to see the hickey spread. (terry and i are hoping it's not like something out of texas chainsaw massacre.) hembree's bringing a trombone and bugle in addition to his bass. sarah alexander and michael briggs have been invited. the phrase that pays is "my donkey walks, my donkey talks, my donkey eats with a knife and fork." i've been handing out HIO stickers to ppl at work, most of whom will doubtless be mortified if they actually visit the myspace thingy and hear the horrible noises we make.
...to hey you, choose your own adventure, a comp of ambient/acoustic thangs on the no-source net label that my pal terry pulled my coat to via his free sounds of clouds net label blog. it's kinda somnolent and soothing in the same way as the "dreamy" side of brian eno's before and after science and just what the doctor ordered to take the edge off today. kinda like the cd-r frank cervantez made me to take to jersey a coupla yrs ago.
waiting for confirmation but it looks like teague got us a wednesday night at the caves lounge in arlington (900 division st.) on 10.14.2009, and a sat'day at lola's stockyards 11.14.2009 with the dangits. these are in addition to the already-booked 10.10.2009 extravaganza at the moon with one fingered fist, the bipolar express (shown below), and dj mojo workout. yeah!
for some reason last night at stooge prac i started channeling johnny winter after richard mentioned the versh of "mean town blues" from the johnny winter and live, which as he pointed out "practically oozes coke." was a big fan of johnny's around the time i went off to college, nominally to study sociology but in fact to screw off and play in rock 'n' roll bands. (hey, goldie -- hembree played a gibson grabber bass last night, too!)
here's johnny playing that song and one other with his 'riginal and best riddim section, uncle john turner (r.i.p.) on drums and tommy shannon on bass.
...to the birth of a being by david s. ware, just a neighborhood guy who woodshedded with sonny rollins in the '60s, played with cecil taylor and andrew cyrille in the '70s, drove a cab for 14 yrs, led the band gary giddins called the best small jazz band of the '90s, was the only artist branford marsalis ever signed to columbia records, and just had a kidney transplant earlier this yr. hopefully he'll be fully recovered and making more music soon. birth sounds like cecil's dark to themselves woulda if it'd been one long tenor solo, which ain't bad, altho a trifle draining.
i actually remember how to play the gtr and the forms to all the songs we've practiced. hooray. we also have _three_, count 'em, three dates through the end of the yr (thanks, jon). film, as they say, at 11. i love my friends, and we're not a bad band, either.
every time i go, i see something i wish i'd eaten instead of what i had (which is always good). this time, it was the fried red snapper fillet (not pictured). it's purdy. oh well, there's always next time.
the italian kid sayeth, "Nothing says 'I’m pretty hip' like a t-shirt emblazoned with...'Hentai Improvising Orchestra,'" and i'm certainly not going to argue with him. get yours here for only a paltry ten spot and be the first on your block...if not the only one on your block.
my sweetie says the guy in the gorilla suit is back outside evans vacuum cleaner on camp bowie blvd. thank goodness! wasn't able to find any vid of him on youtube (not even from j.d. jimmerson IV's ultra low budget como-centric horror flick da killah), but maybe someday someone will post some. a fort worth landmark for sure.
this is a contestant from ukraine's got talent, proving, i suppose, that folks in other parts of the world have a different relationship with history than we do here in 'meercuh.
jenkins at doc's pulled my coat yesterday to a copy of this he'd just gotten in. i owned it when it was almost-new after jeff beck namechecked shuggie in a rolling stone int. i didn't get it at first -- it wasn't heavy, like i still expected jeff to be back in '72, and it was kind of all-over-the-map: some blues (shuggie had a nice touch in both slide and b.b. king styles), some uptown r&b, and some stuff that i couldn't really comprehend enough to categorize. in the fullness of time, the title track sounds very influenced by in a silent way -- always a plus at my house -- and is kinda redolent of carlos santana in his lyrical caravanserai/welcome phase, which freedom flight actually predated by over a year, as well as the stoned/dreamin' jimi of "may this be love" and axis: bold as love.
"ice cold daydream" kicks the door open with a blast of nasty funk, the likes of which beck was purveying on his rough and ready alb (still a fave of mine), utilizing some speeded-up f/x that shuggie must have learned from frank zappa while playing "octave bass" on hot rats' "peaches en regalia." (current '70 mothers george duke and aynsley dunbar are all over freedom flight, too.) shuggie's dad johnny otis -- a greek-american r&b bandleader and producer who'd made his name passing for black -- was instrumental in those sessions, and had served as a kind of a role model for teenage frank, or at least his soul patch. (now i have to go back and dig out the johnny otis show live at monterey cassette that also has shuggie on a couple of tracks.)
shuggie's "strawberry letter 23" (which i once heard addnerim play note-for-note at the wreck room) was a big hit for the brothers johnson in '77, but the 'riginal is still _the one_. folks made a big deal over shuggie's followup inspiration information when david byrne reished it on luaka bop in 2001, but i always dug freedom flight more. in its modest way, it really _was_ ahead of its time (dig the funkadelic synth bass on "me and my woman," f'rinstance) in the same way as, say, todd rundgren's something/anything was. it's too bad that shuggie prima donna'd his way out of the music biz post-inspiration.
it's worthwhile remembering that 'meercun teevee wasn't always pure shite, and that archie bunker, norman lear's embodiment of the archetypal nixon "silent majority" member, was played by flaming liberal carroll o'connor.
the news, however, is not funny at all. apparently rhino, the label that kind of set the standard for archival reissues in the cd era, has just decimated its staff. so grab those spiffy box sets while you can, kids -- they truly will not be there forever.
hey everyone, i am currently in Oakland, CA finishing the artwork for the new live Sub Oslo album. I've been at Monolith Press getting the cover ready to go to press and the final master of the live set has been given to the label, Life is Abuse, home to good friends Yeti, Graves at Sea, Like Flies on Flesh and Dystopia.
We are stoked to be working with this label. The cd will be in limited format with silkscreened covers with art by myself. It will be released at our next show on Nov.16th at Emos in Austin,TX.
recording at hickey's in weatherford on october 17th. show at the phoenix project in dallas november 27th. good show showcase at lola's 6th in february. new stickers coming soon.
auggie's happy to be home, but we have to give him three pills a day for the next seven days. by then, i'll probably have figured out how to work the "pill popper" the vet sent home with him. at least he's not holding a grudge against us for using it -- yet.
ADDENDUM: took an abbreviated run this a.m. because i didn't wanna miss out on auggie at his underfoot-running, back-rolling, head-bumping best.
was there ever a band more english than the faces? of course there was; they were called the kinks. but where ray davies wrote and sang wistfully of an england that was disappearing before his eyes, rod stewart -- back when he was still a football-loving, brandy-swilling despoiler who'd never have dreamt of pitching a bitch because he didn't win a grammy -- and his mates brought a cheeky bonhomie to the purloined 'meercun forms they loved to play that seemed to be directly descended from the hands-clasped-around-shoulders-by-the-pub-pianner-singing-"roll-out-the-barrel" spirit that'd sustained their plucky island nation through the blitz.
hamfisted though they might have been (without the faces, no replacements), there was a warmth about their booze-sodden good-time music (the riddim boys' lurching, loping groove, topped off with ian mclagan's rollicking barrelhouse piano and soul-drenched organ and ron wood's clunky, chunky guitar chops that mined the same lode of curtis mayfield arpeggios as hendrix did, if less artfully) that made them much more than a lower-division rolling stones (although that's where woody wound up after rod abandoned the project for people magazine celebrity).
john mendelsohn crabbed in rolling stone about the faces' lack of direction, comparing them unfavorably with their earlier, steve marriott-led incarnation that'd given the world the psychedelic whimsy of "itchycoo park" and ogden's nut gone flake. truth was that steve (god bless him) took himself a little too seriously for a chirpy cockney chap who wanted to be otis redding, while stewart, at this juncture, didn't take _anything_ seriously: who else, in 1971, would have had the, um, balls to offhandedly toss out a line like "i'm a faggot in the first degree / but it don't seem to worry me" (as rod did on long player's opener "bad 'n' ruin")?
while its successor a nod is as good as a wink to a blind horse remains their "good" record, i still see long player -- patchy, sloppy, and all-over-the-map as it is -- as their apotheosis, so i was delighted to snap up the slightly-distressed-but-eminently-listenable copy i found at doc's. you get side-opening extended workouts in the styles of stax/volt and chuck berry, two tracks of sublime stewart, two of ronnie lane's winsome pastoralism in full flower, and two live-at-the-fillmore reminders of a time when big rock concerts seemed more celebratory and less pro forma. makes me wanna take a road trip down to austin the next time ian mclagan & the bump band are holding forth. the best way to experience the faces digitally is the well-selected '99 anthology good boys when they're asleep. if you don't know 'em, you owe it to yourself.
ADDENDUM: but wait! mac's playing dan's silverleaf on 12.11.
on the occasion of what would have been john coltrane's 83rd birthday, listen to an interview frank kofsky conducted with the titanic tenor saxophonist less than a year before his death in 1966.
still have to give him some meds and the boys have new (expensive) food which should help prevent recurrences. he had stickers on his cage that said "aggressive" and "may bite" (which someone modified to read "_will_ bite") -- ha! anyway, we're glad to have him back!
he should be home thursday night. apparently he was giving the folks at the vet's absolute hell. they couldn't believe how friendly and affectionate he was when we visited him. apparently he's been hissing and trying to bite them every time they opened his cage. he wasn't eating, so my sweetie took him some kibble, cheerios, fresh herbs from the garden, lemon yogurt, and a favorite ball. they called later to say he was taking some yogurt off ppl's fingers. we'll have to change his diet, but thankfully we got him to the clinic before the blockage caused any serious damage. can't imagine what it'd have been like to lose him.
Here Comes Santa Claus Do You Hear What I Hear? Winter Wonderland Hark The Herald Angels Sing I'll Be Home For Christmas Little Drummer Boy The Christmas Blues O' Come All Ye Faithful (Adeste Fideles) Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas Must Be Santa Silver Bells The First Noel Christmas Island The Christmas Song O' Little Town Of Bethlehem
ran into nathan brown trying to sell stuff at doc's i told him about my old man's passing and the hentai debacle of debacles and how it's a waste of energy staying angry
he gave me a couple of opera albs that jenkins passed on hoping to help me conjure my dad's spirit: a nice gesture
ArtsGoggle, the twice-yearly, FREE celebration of art and artists in Fort Worth, Texas’ Near Southside, is expecting another tremendous turnout on Saturday, Oct. 3 from 3 to 10 p.m.
This free to the public, family-friendly event attracts a crowd as diverse as the neighborhood itself with live music, artistic displays of every kind, food, drink, and fun for everyone. Public support has increased rapidly, as evidenced by ArtsGoggle’s selection as the Best Gallery Art Show of the Last 12 Months by Fort Worth Weekly readers in 2007 and 2008.
This year 65 businesses in the Near Southside will become art venues and open their doors to show off the work of a variety of local artists. The public is invited to park their cars and rediscover this revitalized urban neighborhood by foot, trolley, bicycle or pedi-cabs.
Everzalez Ink will be showcasing their latest group of work, Ascension in the Recession, at the newly-renovated Miller Lofts. The work will encompass an entire loft space. Just look for the red doors.
Since its inception in 2003, ArtsGoggle has evolved into a festival of the arts in this eclectic neighborhood of historic elegance and urbanism immediately south of the central business district of Fort Worth.
For the first time, the event will take place on Saturday afternoon instead of Friday evening, with extended hours to allow visitors time to enjoy all the art and music, and the trolleys will feature tours narrated by individuals that have been heavily involved in the district’s revitalization. Abundant parking will be available in the various parking areas off of Magnolia and Park Place Avenues.
ArtsGoggle is presented by Fort Worth South, Inc., the non-profit redevelopment organization working to revitalize this important urban neighborhood. Each year record ArtsGoggle attendance attests to the success of Fort Worth South, Inc. and the Near Southside community.
Everzalez Ink would like to thank Rene Gonzalez, Dafne Torres, Krista Pugh, Shuan McKinney, Blanca Gonzalez, Adam Scott, Tim Derrington, Anna M. Gonzalez and James Everton for contributing to the collection.
For more information on ArtsGoggle, First Friday on the Green, and Fort Worth South, Inc., please call Michel Stebbins at 817-923-1343.
...is at the vet's with the same malady to which we lost pablo. hoping for a better outcome this time. scary how fast these things can develop.
ADDENDUM: looks like he's going to be fine. we're just fortunate that he's such a good communicator -- and that midnight was so insistent in making sure we knew his little buddy wasn't feeling well.
FURTHER ADDENDUM: he was doped and glassy-eyed when i visited this a.m. (got a new catheter because he kinked his first one), so we'll go visit later today.
i asked for a show, and for my sins they gave me one
"they" in this case being aaron gonzalez, who called and asked if hentai improvising orchestra would open a show for yells at eels with taylor ho bynum and mfm at the phoenix project in dallas (406 s. haskell ave.) the friday after thanksgiving (11.27). i'm a lucky asshole. not sure of the hentai lineup yet, but hopefully it'll include the usual suspects...
ADDENDUM: no hembree, who'll be playing with pablo. hey hickey, don't forget your bass.
here the longtime village voice jazz scribe talks about undergoing impeachment proceedings as head of his college's concert committee for booking cecil taylor. (the one where i went just got in a fistfight with elvis costello.)
speaking of detroit, a cd/dvd combo of material by the up (youngsters who replaced the mc5 as the white panther "house band") for which i wrote liner notes is apparently out now on easy action.
slept in too late to run today dreamed about my old man we were back in the house on long island where i grew up he was wearing his old brown checked sportcoat he seemed unhappy to be leaving i promised to keep taking pictures of the family on the porch the way he did felt sad but couldn't cry
running this morning, i noticed that my heels scrape the ground more than they used to. how many more years until i'm doing the dementia shuffle?
a couple of blocks from where i live, i saw a rivercrest matron (her hair just so, wearing pastel colors, not yet succumbing to greys and browns) wrap her orange shawl around her as she very laboriously ascended from her sporty bmw in a cloud of white shoulders, showing, i thought, a remarkable amount of dignity.
on this date in 1970, my mom came and picked me up from middle school and told me that jimi hendrix had died. death was a stranger then, even tho the passing of people in my family (both of her parents, one of her sisters) and famous folk (jfk, mlk, rfk) had already made an impact in my life. my best bud (who'd moved upstate the year before) wrote to say he was sorry "bobby hendrix" had died. it'd be a few yrs yet before i could understand a little bit of what hendrix was doing, but he was definitely the water i was swimming in as a beginning gtrist. after college, when i knew too many ppl who'd crippled themselves with drugs trying to be "like jimi," i couldn't listen to his music for a decade. luckily for me, i rediscovered it in the '80s. his achievement is solid. he changed the sound of his instrument -- how many musos can say that? pity he couldn't have stayed a little longer.
missed my dtr at starbucks again today (not working). raining, so i can't cut the grass. will have to do it tom'w while i'm off (if it's not still raining). do laundry tom'w too and maybe connect with my kids. my youngest will be 21 on sat'day.
that's right, in spite of only having been a band since like july and only having played two gigs as such, one of which was the debacle of fucking debacles, we've got hentai improvising orchestra swag. (t-shirts are coming, hopefully in time for our next soiree at a location and date tba.) ask me nice and i'll let you have one.
this is my all time favorite beefheart boot, and believe me, i've heard dozens. recorded in liverpool, 1980, by the doc at the radar station band -- who, at that point, had been playing don's music for about four years and were probably his best-ever live unit (see this guy's youtube vids for proof), it includes songs from safe as milk, strictly personal, trout mask, and decals as well as the alb they were nominally promoting. it even kicks ass on the better recorded live wlir broadcast from my father's place that rhino released around the same time this came out in y2k. in my dotage, i plan to do nothing but sit around learning beefheart toons (and digging in my sweetie's garden) to finish the job bruce wade started in '74. in the meantime, here are some snotnoses playing "hot head" at their high school talent show.
wow. the flaming lips debuted their new alb embryonic last night on the colbert report and then stream it in its entahrty for free on colbertnation.com through next monday. alb drops 10.13.
on 10.6, some band called the mountain goats will do the same thing. hey herb, who are they?
today is matturday. happy berfday (and many more) to my dear friend and fave bassplayer on earth.
just finished penning a review of the new pere ubu alb, which in the fullness of time shall run on the i-94 bar. (think it's funny that alfred jarry's text contained references to "the shtttrr hook," which is what my sweetie calls auggie when he knocks over cups of water an' like that.) listening now to new discage from the ever-prolific dennis gonzalez, which in the fullness of time i shall review here. and the barman sent me the new intercontinental playboys disc, which i shall also audition directly.
right now, however, i'm getting ready to go push potions 'n' lotions for the man. and looking fwd to pork chops and red cabbage for din-din tonight.
found 801 live on vinyl at doc's today. 801 was a roxy music offshoot band put together by phil manzanera and brian eno while roxy was on hiatus in '76. they played three shows; the third was recorded and released. (in albany, brian quigley had been a big fan of manzanera's diamond head alb; i remember stephen gray used to call him "philman zanera," to my great amusement. stuart bell, who was a big eno fan, played this a lot when we shared the bottom floor of the now-demolished house at collinwood and sanguinet the first half of '79.)
this was the first live album where all the instruments except the drums were recorded direct to the board. it's definitely my fave roxy-associated thang, and my fave eno except for maybe before and after science. i love the version of "tomorrow never knows" and didn't realize until just now that the little fillip i always used to play when we did this song at the wreck room jams was stolen from this record. (thanks, philman.) the second side, with eno's "baby's on fire" and "miss shapiro" and phil's "diamond head," is boss. i also like their cover of "you really got me" better than van halen's, but you knew that.
supposed to have stooge prac monday if richard doesn't get sick and teague doesn't have another commitment. he's also supposed to be hustling us a gig at lola's stockyards in november. film, as they say, at 11. other than that, 10.10 at the moon is all we've got on the books. i told ray i'm not sure i remember how to play any of those songs, and when i tried playing the other day, barre chords made my hands hurt.
talked to terry about hentai prac/giggage. team we're envisioning is alexander, briggs, brunt, chamy, fisher, hembree, hickey, horn, me, and possibly a keyboard player to be named later. we'll see.
EasyAction are in talks with James Williamson to release a limited pressing CD, LP, DVD & download of the concert with the Careless Hearts recorded a couple of weeks ago . EA boss man Carlton Sandercock says its just something we have to do , "No sense of crime" .... is amazing alone !! go to James web site to see youtube film of some of the songs .
just back from running. missed the rain from yesterday but still felt great. missed my dtr again at starbucks. might have to call to tell her to come get her car registration.
n.p.: miles' "he loved him madly" for my pop (thanks dennis). pere ubu's gonna have to wait a bit.
ADDENDUM TO ADDENDUM: not only is jenkins boyd, the cat that runs doc's, a hella nice guy who runs a cool shop (where i just scored vinyl copies of phil manzanera's 801 live -- prolly my all-time fave roxy music/eno artyfact -- and, wouldn't ya know, miles' get up with it including the aforementioned "he loved him madly"), you just know he really loves his music too. as i was paying out, he asked how long my sweetie 'n' i stayed at the jazzfest the other night and allowed that he'd spent an hour and a half under a tree in the piss-pouring rain hoping to hear george clinton. my kinda fan, for sure.
t.tex posted this goodun. from i.m. terrell high school in fort worth to the world, with love. r.i.p. curtis ousley. with another terrell alumnus, cornell (c.l.) dupree on gtr.
switched shifts with a coworker, so i'm closing instead of opening. this means i get to run again today and maybe see my dtr at her starbuck's. also might pay a visit to doc's. need to call the rocket for the prices of the things i ate and listen to the new pere ubu alb, which i'm reviewing for the i-94 bar. (a couple of non-embeddable vids from the piece are here).
tabligh by wadada leo smith's golden quartet, the aacm trumpeter and yo! miles co-leader's alternate-universe versh of the early '70s miles band, with ronald shannon jackson thrashing and bashing away like tony williams (whose job, shannon once told me, every drummer wanted back in the '60s) and vijay iyer playing herbie, chick, _and_ keith at different moments (plus a little cecil or maybe don pullen) on electric and acoustic pianners. sometime when i've got time, i need to screen the dvd of these guys back-to-back with the one of miles playing at the '70 isle of wight festival.
john coltrane wrote this song in memory of four little girls killed when their church in birmingham, alabama -- sun ra's "magic city" -- was bombed on this date in 1963.
watched this again with my sweetie tonight. it's true to life, which is all i ever ask from a movie. it's different watching it now that i can still smell the room where my father died.
ran in the rain this a.m., still trying to increase the running/decrease the walking intervals. missed my dtr at her starbucks; i guess she works a different sked every week, too. couldn't revisit the burger joint i'm writing up for the italian kid because it's closed today. no stooge prac this week because i'm working late thursday and hembree is going to see the mars volta in dallas on wednesday (which is matturday this year). just did the trash and catbox and will prolly spend the rest of the day (after a nice long hot shower) listening to toons -- unit structures, science fiction, in a silent way, plus live ornette boots and various downloads from hither and yon (the '87 skies of america from verona with john giordano conducting; cecil's solo for olim and winged serpent with an 11-piece band that includes euros enrico rava, tomasz stanko, and john tchicai); maybe a new disc dennis gonzalez sent with a connecticut band including joe morris. trying to conjure the vibe of the connecticut station that usedta play four hours of ornette and accomplices every sunday arvo. still not writing shit.
ADDENDUM: no doc's today, either. later this week, have to go see if they still have the john cale and phil manzanera items i passed on last time. and wanna meet my fellow insomniac calvin for lunch at the montgomery st. cafe sometime.
why reissue the beatles catalog now? it's called "sound recording copyright," a.k.a. "a last ditch effort to make as much money off of the beatles' sound recordings as humanly possible." from the huffington post.
think you've got it bad? meet mick taylor, the guy that quit the rolling stones. from the daily mail.
from last.fm (with thanks to howard mandel for the coat-pull). recorded in 1960 (when cecil was still playing show tunes), with buell neidlinger on bass and dennis charles on drums. if ezio pinza was here, he'd be turning in his grave.
aw, shit. basketball diaries scribe and punk-rock prince for a minute jim carroll checked out september 11th, from a heart attack. cat made it all the way to 59. i supposed it'd be "funnier" to post a vid of "people who died," but this was his greatest song and his truest testament. go easy, boy.
after the last few weeks, didn't have it in me to do much socializing this weekend (at the bull & bush the other night, we were basically talking to two other ppl in the crowded bar, which was manageable). spent all day yesterday finishing howard mandel's book and listening to toons. gotta work today and see what my next week's sked is. hopefully it'll allow me to have lunch with the italian kid monday and do stooge prac on thursday. wanna start running again, too.
a sports hero we can all get behind: ladies and gentlemen, major league baseball's dock ellis. (in case you don't make it to the end of the article, here's a page of horrible dock ellis-inspired folk art.)
hahaha. that's howard mandel writing in miles, ornette, cecil: jazz beyond jazz about one of my favorite records of all eternity, miles davis' 1969 classic in a silent way. i usedta think the same thing back in the '80s, only using different words.
after doing my annual duty for the arlington heights neighborhood association, i walked over to doc's to snag a vinyl copy of silent way i'd seen there last week and wound up additionally copping an "as is"-but-perfectly-playable copy of captain beefheart's strictly personal and two ronald shannon jackson albs that were inexplicably filed under "reggae." also got to see sir steffin ratliff, which is always a pleasure.
now boiling water to dump down the bathroom sink and tub drains and waiting for my sweetie to return home so i can cook her steak 'n' eggs and we can head on out to the jazzfest.
ADDENDUM: so it looks like george got rained out (altho we fantasize an extemporaneous g.c. performance at buttons), but we stopped for drinks at the bull & bush (funny how montgomery street has become the focal point of my life, between the b&b, doc's, and the montgomery street cafe) and got to hang out with sir steffin and lady cammilla, two of our very favorite ppl on earth. then walked home in the piss-pouring rain to spend the rest of the night listening to shannon, ornette, and miles. realizing how small my musical world really is, but tonight cammi gave me my next big task: writing a book about my dad (or my family), if only for me 'n' my sis and the next generation. which is part of the reason why i'm procrastinating about writing the restaurant review i owe the italian kid.
your neighborhood association newsletter comes to you delivered by a sweaty bohemian in paint-spattered cutoffs
i saw two elderly ladies sitting on their porches two not-elderly ladies going about their business two orange cats sleeping together on a couch a little striped cat slinking about a porch a doormat that said "woof" on a house with a sign warning off solicitors -- "this means you!" (charity: no, steak: yes!)
hoping dr. funkenstein doesn't canx due to rain i heard he's brought sly along this time
A gathering will be taking place to remember Tad Gaither at Lola's 6th St on Sunday September 13th @ 3pm. His brother Jeb and his sister Jeanie will be there. Everyone is welcome to come put names to faces and to swap stories about Tad's very unique life. A service has not been planned as of yet. Details on a service will follow soon. please past this along. Tad had a very far reach, almost if not globally. I don't want to leave anyone out. Lola's Saloon 2736 west 6th st Fort Worth 76107 Ph# 817-877-0666 Please feel free to contact me if anyone has any questions or needs any additional info.
very sad tonight to report that tad gaither, proprietor of the old black dog tavern, was found dead in his home. details are sketchy, but the cantankerous old yank apparently shuffled off this mortal coil two weeks to a month ago, after suffering a seizure at lola's, for which he refused medical attention. the peace corps, u.s. army (he was an officer in vietnam), and publishing industry vet's watering hole, in its original downtown and terminal off-7th-street locations, offered a venue for left-of-center entertainment (spoken word poetry, jazz) when nowhere else in his adopted home town would, and provided a place to grow for bands including bertha coolidge, pablo & the hemphill 7, confusatron, and, um, stoogeaphilia.
former black dog bartender billy wilson says that tad's friends and family members will be gathering to remember him at lola's 6th street this sunday at 3pm (time subject to change -- i'll post more when i know more). he will be missed.
1) mott the hoople - mad shadows. you know these guys -- the "stones with an english dylan" kloodged together by guy stevens, the pilled-up genius/lunatic who gave the world both hapshash and the coloured coat and london calling, subsequently duded up by bowie for their 15 minutes of glam acclaim. while brain capers remains the all-time fave, you can't beat thisun as a soundtrack for generalized ennui and free-floating anxiety. none of the songs are so hot per se (except maybe "thunderbuck ram," which t.tex calls "the best dave davies soundalike tune ever" -- including mick ralphs' wimpy mouse-voice), but they're like brilliant one-color canvases, each one picking a mood and wallowing in it at great length. the second side is epic.
2) ornette coleman - croydon concert. i tried ordering this when it was available as the great london concert on arista freedom ca. '75, but my boss at the time said it'd been cataloged but not shipped. (it wasn't the first time he told an untruth.) with the 1962 town hall concert having been my fave ornette, it seemed logical that this -- which is more of the same (composed piece, this time featuring a woodwind ensemble, followed by a trio set) but longer, a little more evolved (having been recorded three yrs later), and better recorded to boot (you can hear david izenzon's fingers on the bass strings and charles moffett's _entahr_ drumkit in striking detail) -- would be even better. and it is. i've got live in paris 1971 with the redman-haden-blackwell lineup on order now (since crisis!, the very first ornette i ever heard, which featured the same lineup, has managed to elude all of the numerous impulse reissue programs to date, and the amg reviewer was practically salivating over thisun). who knew there was as much "quasi-legit" ornette product from his '65-'71 eurotours as there is, say, illicit mc5, iggy & the stooges, or '64 mingus band material? (i'm gonna pass on the '69 show from bilzen, belgium, howevah, as peter niklas wilson's useful ornette tome sez "the recording quality is appallingly bad," and an amazon customer wrote that the cd reish sounds "actually slightly worse...than the bootleg." fun's fun, but there are limits.)
3) bola sete - ocean. a successful and renowned bandleader and solo performer in his native brazil, this gtrist (born djalma de andrade) came to the states during the early '60s bossa nova craze at the behest of the sheraton hotel chain, and wound up in san francisco, where dizzy gillespie heard him and hired him for his big band. sete subsequently worked with vince guaraldi of "cast your fate to the wind"/"linus and lucy" fame. most of the early stuff of his i've heard is kinda "happy jazz" that i wouldn't give a second thought. he wound up playing for the hipis at the fillmore, making a big impact on cats like jerry garcia and carlos santana, but his greatest moment was this '72 recording, released in '75 on kindred spirit john fahey's takoma label, in which he plumbs the dark night of the soul while allowing for the possibility of redemption. all with just one (nylon-string) gtr. it's out on cd too (you can buy one from his widow -- sete checked out in '87 -- via the memorial website she runs; link above) but i'm happy as a clam to have it on nice warm-sounding vinyl again.
just a short run/walk today; tried running more and shortening the walking intervals. (easier today on yr own than with a bud.) tonight will meet with the hentai boyzzz (terry, hembree, hickey) at the bull & bush for drinkie-talkie after work while my sweetie's at zoomba. (!)
tom'w night will dine with the italian kid at some stockyards j'int he wants me to write up for the paper and swears reminds him of my buddy casino's bar in austin. we'll see.
this weekend, will tramp the 'hood distributing neighborhood association schmatter and partake of jazzfest (george clinton!) and gallery night festivities.
...here's a list of "the 46 essential rock reads" from the l.a. times that manages to pretty consistently pick the wrong horse (or omit the right one): no joe carducci; nik cohn's rock dreams vice awopbopaloobop alopbamboom; denis johnson's execrable collection of drug stories anybody coulda written jesus' son (included, i suppose, because he took his title from a velvet underground song; baby, _that's_ rock 'n' roll); no clinton heylin; greil marcus' impenetrable commie rant lipstick traces instead of his sublime mystery train; no paul williams, who started the ball rolling for chrissake. welcome to the curmudgeon zone.
Oh fuck. I hate seasonal music. And Halloween is one of my least favorite holidays, notwithstanding the opportunity it always brings to see The Great Tyrant at The Chat Room, which is the only live music you're likely to see in that venue nowadays. (It was funny the other day, talking to a friend who didn't realize that the Fairmount is closed and the Chat stopped doing shows back in July. Fort Worth music venues have the longevity of mayflies, it seems.) I hate candy corn (the candy), although I love "Kandy Korn" (the Captain Beefheart song). And I quite like this new LP (pressed on 180 gram vinyl, yo) that I got from Aaron Gonzalez just before playing the very worst show of my entahr life at Station 20 (formerly the Firehouse Gallery, now also no longer booking shows) last Saturday night. I don't blame the record for that, though.
Shits and Giggles is the confluence of venerable Dallas via Nawlins 'n' Atlanta noisicians Vas Deferens Organization and Ariel Pink, an L.A. born 'n' bred avant-garde weirdo with a love for '70s and '80s pop (see below) that puts him in the same league as Nathan Brown and Har Mar Superstar, except he's on Animal Collective's label now and so presumably his stuff gets distributed better 'n when he was just handing out burned CD-R's (maybe not). Trick Or Treat is released on VDO's Free Dope and Fucking In the Streets label, which will probably ensure that if it isn't already, this blog entry will be impossible to Google for folks that filter their Internet. And it's hardly seasonal music, nor is it the cloying confection the front cover art, at least, might lead you to expect.
First side starts out with a cacophonous collage of found sounds 'n' sampled beats, giving way to Aaron's pop, trumpeter Dennis Gonzalez, playing something that sounds either Weill-esque or like Pink Panther soundtrack music before sighing Four Freshman harmonies send things careening into a dense jungle the way Miles Davis might have imagined one back in the On the Corner time. Dennis takes one wild, F/X-laden ride that dissolves into musique concrete weirdness and a scraping arco bass solo from Aaron that plays out behind a hubbub of chattering voices. An ethereal, Southeast Asian sounding interval ensues, with some dude nattering on in what sounds like backwards Hindi. A rather Henry Cow-like ostinato follows, with Dennis' octave-divided trumpet playing ghostly washes in the background. The atmosphere gets spookier as the groove breaks down into an amorphous, sprung-rhythmed morass like something from the recesses of Electric Ladyland or the Faust catalog.
Turning the rekkid over (to perdition with Nick Hornby's revisionism, I'm still geeked on "the romance of the artifact"), the proceedings resume with sub-volcanic rumblings and glottal torture that recall Zappa circa Lumpy Gravy, giving way to machine beats, trumpet fanfares, and more backwards vocalismo reminiscent of the Residents at their most impenetrable. The highest harmonic from a sheet metal saw makes a guest appearance, setting the stage for the entrance of the Master Musicians of Joujouka (or their cousins). Things finally settle into a mutated jam-band groove, with pitch-shifted guitar keeping things off-center like Bo Diddley on belladonna. I suppose my point regarding all this mess is that there's always something new to be diverted by in Shits and Giggles' sonic funhouse. It's a bracing tonic for sonic ennui, even.
in which nick hornby hails mp3 blogs as the new indie rekkid stores. (as i type this, my big black cat has his nose pressed against the screen. he's fascinated.)
ADDENDUM: but wait. here's chuck klosterman, um, "re-assessing" the beatles. who?
since i started running (well, walking/bullshitting/running) with terry, i sleep better at night and feel more energetic during the day. of course, my leg hurts and i'm more aware of how shitty my endurance has gotten, but whatthehell. i also start to feel antsy when i sit at the 'puter too long (as i have this a.m.). perhaps i'll go mail a bill and do some solo peregrinating, since terry started his teaching job today.
ADDENDUM: took a long mostly-walk, with lotsa breaks to stretch my left calf, and a stop at montgomery st. cafe for brekkie because i had bad blood sugar things happenin'. bacon 'n' eggs, hash browns, biscuits 'n' gravy hit the spot just like always. told my waitress i'd been in new jersey for a coupla wks and she allowed that it was a pretty nice place with friendly folks but nobody there knew what a chicken fried steak is. now watching auggie chase a grape.
here's "cock in my pocket." i just picked up metallic k.o. on vinyl from doc's and was reminded how, as james was trying to push the stooges in a more conventionally song-oriented direction (watch and dig how much chuck berry there is in this boy's chops -- almost as much as the mc5's wayne 'n' fred), iggy was taking the lyrics further 'n' further down 'n' out.
my middle dtr and son-in-law came over the other day and made us watch this. it's what joss whedon (of, um, firefly and buffy the vampire slayer) did during the writers' strike. it has neil patrick harris in it. (the kids call him "nph.") key lines:
...was interesting. yanari played a very polished technical prog set, then PF(F)(F)T! came out and sukkked the "p" (or rather i did). rather than do what we always do, i was attempting to proceed from an intention, but once we got on the set, nothing worked -- room acoustics made the feedback different than it was at mi casa, couldn't get the e-bow to operate, couldn't hear marcus (!), couldn't see to switch the F/X over from the h&k to the fender because yanari wanted the lights off and i figured it'd kill the vibe to turn 'em back on. when hentai got going, terry came over to tell me to turn down so the singers could be heard, and since i couldn't hear anything i was playing anyway, i just put down my gtr and went outside. pretty soon, hickey and marcus came outside too. i told terry i was done with hentai, but that's probably an overreaction. in fact, the performance was a pretty good metaphor for the way i'm feeling.
ADDENDUM: high point of the evening for me was walking in and hearing mc5 "motor city is burning" on the box, and seeing the gonzalez brothers.
how to get to station 20 (formerly firehouse gallery)
see the map here: basically, just take oakland south from i-30 until it intersects meadowbrook. the firehouse is in an island in the middle of the street. there's an old firetruck out front.
Kid Daniel & John Seibman of the great band, Ft. Worth Cats in Icicle & The Kid plus Webbed - September 5th Lola's Saloon - Stockyards 105 West Exchange Ave Fort Worth, TX 76106 . Music starts at 9pm ALL AGES SHOW More information to follow on a Ft. Worth Cats Reunion Show in October !
waiting for terry to get here so we can go run. then wanna take some stuff to sell at doc's and see if they still have the copies of metallic k.o. and bola sete's ocean i snoozed on last time.
this arvo, will prac a li'l bit for the gig tonight, for which PF(F)(F)T! will be matt hickey on bass/synth/gopi, marcus brunt on 'bone, and me on gtr(s), while hentai improvising orchestra will comprise all of the above plus terry horn, mark cook, bob fisher, jason spradlin, sarah alexander and michael briggs on voxxx, and hopefully billy wilson on theremin. first band starts at 9pm at station 20 (formerly the firehouse gallery), oakland and meadowbrook. y'all come.
n.p.: les rallizes denudes' blind baby has its mother's eyes. sometimes droning monotony can be cathartic.
saw joey carter's wife diana at the market yesterday, which reminded me we've been meaning to check out the sunday jazz at embargo. might make it down there this sunday, since monday's a holiday.
also saw rickey chewning from jazz by the boulevard, who pulled my coat that the fest won't be free this year -- price of the ticket to see the show is a fin, which is still a bargain to see george clinton or the blind boys of alabama within walking distance of mi casa.
weird. hearing auggie's claws on the wood floors in my house this a.m. reminded me of this song, which i heard joe ely sing when he opened for the clash in '79, with ponty bone on accordion. the _other_ pride of lubbock was still going strong (with a different band) in 1990.
scored a vinyl shiny beast at doc's the other day and when i listened to it back-to-back with the dust sucker boot of '75 bat chain puller sessions, i had to conclude that the '78 release really was the better album. (i think it was the keyboard bass and trombone that put me off back when it was new.)
my toledo poetry-rock pal dan mcguire opines that "some of [trout mask replica] is good, a lot of it is crap...i like the later stuff better." i have to admit that from the evidence of youtube vids (particularly the french ones from 1980) and a lifetime of listening to audience recordings, i think don's bands got better as he went (with the exception of the '74 "tragic band" when alex st. claire led a mutiny and the captain was forced to tour with under-rehearsed hacks). then again, the original magic band boyzzz were blazing a trail, while those latter aggros (including the denny walley-moris tepper-eric feldman-robert williams lineup i saw twice in '77) were learning a method.
(was telling t. horn on our peregrinations of my 'hood yesterday that i recently realized the two musos who most represented "freedom" to me as a snotnose -- beefheart and ornette -- weren't really improvisers. _all_ of don's music was through-composed, of course, and while ornette improvises, his major achievement since shedding the constraints of bebop harmony has been devising new settings to frame his unique song.)
the ol' hobo instrument builder checked out on this date in '74. the following year, bruce wade pulled my coat to his music. here's his masterpiece delusions of the fury.
