Showing posts with label rock bands. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rock bands. Show all posts

Friday, July 11, 2008

Andy's Rockin' Internet Pals


If people want to spend their time watching the tired Foo Fighters play Who covers on television, that's their prerogative. Me, I'd rather check out new bands on the Garage Punk Hideout, a website that's the punk version of mySpace, a global smörgåsbord of grease and filth and full of rockin' good music. Here's my three most rockinest pals from that site:

The Raws: From Istanbul, Turkey(!) these guys play some of the most vicious punk rock I've heard in years with a guitar sound that'll rip your ears off and feed them to the dogs! They wear bug glasses, burglar masks and play in their panties. They also seem to think I'm a girl, but that's another story! One of the band members is called B-Man and they have a raunchy song about him called "BMen". Who knew Turkey was such a punk hotbed?

Les BOF!: It only gets weirder, folks! It's common knowledge that the French and the British hate each other like cats and dogs, so imagine a band from Scotland who play snotty garage blues fronted by a French dandy who looks like he belongs in a Jacques Brel musical:) Les BOF! call themselves "UK Premier French Garage Rockers" and they walk the walk = they play a killer tune called "J'ai Perdu Mon Mojo" ("I've Lost My Mojo"). Every song in their repertoire is sung in French, like Jacques Dutronc, their hero. Alors, marveilleux!

The Torpedo Monkeys: Saving the best (and weirdest) for last, The Torpedo Monkeys from parts unknown play greeaaasy garage punk squawk in cool rockabilly/glam clothes with "Planet of the Apes" masks. These sleazy chimps will give you chills when they tear through "Hanky Panky" and other mind-melting tunes. They also have a badass collection of pawnshop gear to rock yr. panties off! Charlton Heston must be spinning in his grave.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

The Jesus And Mary Chain Will Drive You Insane!


Just like thousands of music fans I couldn’t play “Psychocandy” by the Jesus and Mary Chain often enough. The way pop melodies would be offset by continuously howling feedback guitars and a bottomless pit of reverb on the vocals was an irresistible exotic music nightmare. They were compared to the Velvet Underground quite a bit but they never seemed clumsy like the Velvets did.

I caught them at The Roxy Theatre shortly after, and it was quite possibly the worst show I’ve ever been to. Following a painfully awful set from Frightwig (who opened with “Delta Dawn”, so much for alternative music), the boys finally got up and dosed us with their psycho candy. And it tasted like dog shit.

The guitar had the tinniest tone with more reverb on it than I’ve ever heard on a guitar, so it sounded thinner than tin. The bass was inaudible, so all we were left listening to was bad ghosty guitar and the stand-up drumming from Bobby Gillespie (who shortly quit the band to sing for Primal Scream).

Lousy sonics aside, the band was so loaded they played “In My Hole” a second time…two songs later. By the time they played it a third time, two songs later, they were getting booed big time by a sold-out crowd. Their set only lasted thirty minutes, shorter than their album. It reminded me of the Woody Allen joke where he said, “Oh! The chicken they serve is so awful…and in such small portions.”

So after getting burned by these junkie dicks I wrote JAMC off as the greatest joke in music. For awhile they were, too, putting out pedestrian junk like “Sidewalking” (Ouch, sorry for the pun) and those boring duets with the girl from Mazzy Star who seemed to have been beaten with the untalented stick.

It all turned around when I was on tour in South Carolina, setting up my gear and the PA was playing intermission music when on comes “Blues From A Gun”, explosive drums kicking the room around and the most lethal guitar (no longer reverb diarrhea), and I thought, “Nothing I play tonight will sound as powerful as this. Shit!” As soon as I heard the whispery cool kat vocals I knew it was the fucking Jesus and Mary Chain, rising from the dead like it’s Easter. You couldn’t write them off, the bastards.

Other manic recordings soon followed, like the amazing “I Hate Rock ‘N Roll”, with the lines, “I love the BBC, I love the way they’re shittin’ on me, I love MTV, I love the way they’re pissin’ on me”. And of course the vocals are all lovely melody with more growling guitar than the last sonic skull fuck they recorded. The coda at the end is the greatest of all time, with the prettiest melody sung, “Rock and roll hates me, I hate me, I hate me, I hate rock ‘n roll hates me”. Genius.

Their final hour was the sequel titled (of course) “I Love Rock ‘N Roll”, with it’s reptilian slide guitars and All-American horn section, sounding so crassly commercial and yet so powerful like the best rock music. Needless to say the song infuriated their purist fans to the point of dementia.

A true sampling of their ability to split music fans straight down the middle can be found on the message board of any YouTube video that shows their videos. Here are a few comments:

“The COOLEST band ever!”

“They’re boring and pathetic now. Psychocandy 1985 was the only good thing they ever did”.

“I loved this band for 23 years and I am not giving up on them. They are hot!”

“Oasis and the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club are MUCH better than the JAMC”.

“Still wild after all these years!”

To offend your fans 25 years after your first album is a major accomplishment. It’s also a true testimony to their ability to be the most controversial band of all time. For that reason The Jesus and Mary Chain have outpaced their peers like The Psychedelic Furs, Bauhaus and The Birthday Party in terms of sheer outrage. The zombie keeps rockin’ and bullets to the brain cannot stop them.

Friday, October 12, 2007

Your Audition My Nightmare



Rather than a-boo-hoo-hoo about the old rock glory days I much prefer remembering all the reasons why I slayed the old showbiz bitch in the first place. Case in point, the most dreaded rock god task of all: auditioning musicians. I'd rather have my crunk teeths drilled for hours than go through the asswipe personalities I've had to audition through the years. Here's a few winners I had to try out for rock group immortality:

There was Mr. A.D.D., the guitar player who guzzled Big Gulp sodas all through rehearsals and copped such a psycho sugar buzz he couldn't focus on my songs. "Hey let's forget about your stuff and just write a bunch of new shit". Playing rhythm guitar was impossible for him. Every song was played with busy Robert Fripp-styled leads. That's SO punk rock!

Jazz guitar man - he called my ad which specifically said punk guitar, so he comes over with a huge hollow-bodied Gibson and starts picky plucking George Benson jazz guitar to my hardcore skronk. And he scatted vocals to them A DOO-BA-DOOBA-DOO-WAY-AHHH. I broke out laughing, and not for the good reasons.

Topless Dave - never wore a shirt, possibly the stupidest bassist alive. "You gave me a fake address, man, you LIED to me".
"No I didn't, I'm at 545 Ogden Drive".
"I went to 544 Ogden Drive and the next house was 546 Ogden, there's no such fucking address as 545 Ogden, dude".
This asshat couldn't understand that odd and even address numbers never run next to each other. I suspect he's currently a carrier for UPS - that must explain why my last package from Amazon never arrived.

There was the drummer who refused to set up behind the band. His drums had to be IN FRONT. He was kind of the Rosa Parks of percussion. There's something really clumsy about having a wide, messy drum kit set up in front of a band. It kind of keeps everybody from cutting loose for fear of running into ginsu knife-sharp cymbals. Big surprise - he was a lazy player, too.

The bass player who wouldn't come to rehearsals booked after 9 PM. Nightclubs don't open until 10 PM!

Drum Whore: "I'm not coming to rehearsals tonight because I have a paying gig tonight at Big Jim's Sports Bar". And you still have to pay the $36 rehearsal rent because he called 20 minutes before show time.

The greatest paradox in auditioning musicians is when you have a guy who looks cool, listens to killer music and he's the easiest guy in the world to get along with (if you weren't straight you'd marry him) and HE PLAYS LIKE SHIT. DAMMIT!
Conversely, there's the guy who looks like your pedophiliac uncle, listens to Supertramp and acts like a dick, and HE SHREDS ON HIS INSTRUMENT. DAMN YOU, KARMIC KLOWNS!!!!