Wednesday, November 16, 2011
The part of the dream that I remember involved knowing that I could pick my last meal, the last music I heard, and my visuals while I died.* And what it really involved was me accepting the quickly coming inevitability of my own death. It was REAL. Unlike my zombie dreams, which seethe with reverie, adventure, and independence, this dream shoved together my consciousness with the end of my consciousness. The processes I went through in this flash of night were genuine, even though I know the probable cause for profound feelings in dreams. While the processes may be an effect of my brain trying to sort out its intake, that doesn't make the lessons or the experience any less real or valid. It really jarred me, forcing me to not just think about the reality of death but to truly experience it, completely forget it for eight hours, and resurrect it in the midst of slight grief. And of course, once it's resurrected, that feeling can be remotely accessed; genuinely re-felt upon command. It requires that unconscious point of gullibility and spontaneity to tap that feeling truly. Quite an unsettling sliver of sleep, that one.
*For the record, salmon sashimi and mashed potatoes with Mom's eclair cake, Erik Satie's Gymnopedie No. 1, and Elizabeth Lake shore at sunrise.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Well, anyway, tonight they're releasing their first full length album since 2007 (I can't believe Rust was that long ago!). It's called Everything Is Good, and I can't wait to hear it. It's a pretty optimistic sentiment in ornery, cranky times, which is actually both comforting and yet seems a bit sarcastic. The band believes in their friends, believe in heartfelt conversation, and believe in the community of artists around them. They talk about the good in everything constantly. Tonight's show is at the Berkley Front, it's costume-optional, and you can even bring a painted or carved pumpkin to decorate! Time for me to bring out my best Nancy Drew.
The funny thing about me promoting this release is that I haven't heard a single track. I'm not even sure if I've seen them perform more than two of the songs on it. But I'm so assured in Retka, Varga and gang's ability to craft something beautiful that I'll confidently say it's more than worth the money to get, and the songs are so sweet that you'll find yourself humming them on car rides home from work, or walks to the mailbox. Please go. If you can't make it to the show, consider buying it or one of their other releases from their store.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Connect Slow Food and Cittaslow with the current buzzy Occupations and finally publicized raised consumer consciousness (I may just muster up the gumption to move my money into a local credit union instead of the big bank it's been in for my adult life). The push for locality and conscious consumerism is hard in ways; some of us have been showed the inconvenience and price tag of paying attention our whole lives. Yes, it takes time to make meals. It takes effort to know what's in season. But the kinds of sacrifices we should be making are far more rewarding than the injustices that we endure regarding our livelihood.
I've been seeing a commercial lately that seems cute enough to work for lots of people my age. But I now have a hard time even being able to see the sense in it, and I have a feeling more and more people are starting to feel the same way. It's animated and the narration throughout it actually says that you accumulate Stuff through your life in your tastes and documents, and that Stuff is what defines you; it's who you are. It shows others who you are. Through the spot the cute little animated characters have balloons of music notes, calculators, computers, whatever that are attached to their blue and pink heads at all times. The end of the commercial is as follows: "...what are you without your Stuff? Better yet, without your Stuff, who are you?" It's a scary concept to consider "within the normal bounds of American ideology". I mean, by that logic Ghandi was a total loser, and so were all those other minimalists. If you don't have Stuff, like say, you're a refugee mother trying to freakin' feed her children in the Somalian drought, well. You're nothing, I guess.
No, it's silly to think that. It may seem like a harmless commercial but ads are powerful propaganda. With this said, my thoughts for the Occupiers everywhere boil down to this. Remember that while we are constantly brainwashed, our political power is constantly revoked, and our voices are constantly trivialized, we also have more power and responsibility than we sometimes think. The demands we make for freedom and justice really must mirror personal loosening of the shackles of consumer bingeing. It's got a strong hold, but it's important to even just be conscious of the Power we have. Not only the angry, demanding power we have, but the Hardy, Durable Power we have to hunker down and make things work for the Winter that's ahead. It's one of the grand human and American values a large portion of us have forgotten. I'm not trying to be holier than anyone--I'm a wimp who rarely follows through on any of her grand decisions. But we gotta try to wake up. Wake up and smell the leaves, feel the shift, gather the family, and tally the store.
Monday, October 10, 2011
How is there intrinsic value in manmade structures but none in natural resources?
Monday, October 3, 2011
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
In all probability, it never found the pheromone trail back to the colony and perhaps died victim to a sole or a terrier's tongue within the foot surrounding, but I like dreams and dreaming.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Sunday, September 25, 2011
My sister just moved to Manchester, UK, for the next 13 months to get her Master's Degree in Visual Anthropology with an emphasis in ethnographic filmmaking. It sounds complicated but it's very closely related to the idea of making documentaries. Just think about it from the point of view of a cultural Anthropologist. It's pretty awesome, and I know she's going to do some amazing work, because she's someone who is constantly invigorated by people and knowledge. It's something that runs in the family.
As soon as she left, of course, I happened to be at the library and I picked up a book called "The Wayfinders: Why Ancient Wisdom Matters in the Modern World" by Wade Davis. By reading the back, I knew it was related to Anthropology. Now in the middle of it, it's clear that it's completely anthropological, and closely related to my sister's field. Davis is actually a documentarian too, and has traveled the world to discover the different forms of genius that exist in cultures that still are often thought of as savage or uncivilized. The reading is fascinating. It's full of historical accounts, personal journeys, and fantastic descriptions of ways of life that are vastly different from ours yet incredibly complex and in many cases more egalitarian, efficient, thriving. The reason cultural diversity is important, Davis reasons, is the same reason biodiversity is. We have so much to learn from all different cultures and yet often the predominant or colonizing forces outlaw those things they don't understand. That idea has been taught to us since we were small, and so it gets tired, but it's still relevant, and Davis puts it in a fresh perspective.
So I've recommended the book to my sis and I'll recommend it to you, too. Another thing I'll recommend is to go to your local Public Library, walk without paying any attention through the non-fiction aisles, and blindly pick out five books. Many might be duds, but you'll get to learn about something you wouldn't normally seek out.
Friday, September 2, 2011
I mean, look at this, what I'm doing right now. I'm writing on a blog which a dozen people read but I don't update enough to expect them to, into the continuous self-purging noise of the internet, for what? A release? I guess that must be what it is. I have a hard time talking with people but I can be eloquent in text. However, the obsessive attachment with non-physical, non-verbal interactions that riddles the globe and my generation especially is ruining the very spirit of life, empathy and real communication that is so key to actually changing anything for better. Yes, outrage spread by angry consumers can get demeaning shirts off the shelves, and can generate conversation about the horrible things that are being publicized all over our culture, but what about the things that are only experienced in reality? At the end of the day, the Western world is hooked into twisted machines of continuous insatiability while the third world uses water they shit in (and the wealthy dump toxins in) to make their food and wash their clothes. When it comes down to it, our culture is eating itself and we can't even really fathom what it's like to struggle in the way that people trying to survive actually struggle.
Living the way we do causes a lot of anger and repression. We are one psycho bunch of people. More than half (I'd be willing to bet at least 3/4) of us have some sort of psychological issue or mental disorder. We're grossly unhappy, and many of us, especially the young ones, react in almost a knee-jerk fashion. We want to destroy what's making us unhappy. Many of us are smart enough to know, even just in fragments, what is responsible for pushing in on all sides (other than our own selves, of course). We know it's that boss who won't let you take a break on your job because you don't smoke, that logo that keeps insisting you won't be able to live without an iPhone once you get it, that movie that reiterates exactly how a woman and a man should act and present themselves. But it's bigger than that. We just lash out at the small stuff. Sneer at the Apple employee. Tell people how awful the movies and how fake the actors are. Hold a deep contempt for all the smokers who stand outside and talk about things you couldn't care less about. Maybe we sometimes take direct action. Spraypaint the crap out of a billboard. Spit in our boss's face with the final straw. Egg the producers. Destroy. Even if it's well-prepared for and thought out, it's still knee-jerk.
One of the concepts I dealt with a lot in art school was destruction as a form of creation, and vice versa. Burning a house fertilizes the soil, etc. Destruction brings renewal. It's something I definitely agree with, generally. In fact, I'm sick of making art that just adds more stuff to this miasma. As much as new images seem constantly needed (especially on such an image-heavy environment the world is in now), the value of the image is a far, far cry from the value of genuine experience, and the ecological impact of artistic materials (including computers, production, and more, not just paint and canvas) weighs out the value of that image, to me. The spraypaint that was used to "subvertize" is horrible for the Earth and for our health. The eggs used to pummel the bigwigs were taken from probably abused chickens, a total waste of unrealized life. That window you smashed cut up the feet of a little boy walking through the street in his sandals. Using bad destruction as symbolism is dangerous too. You want to smash your TV? Go ahead. The chemicals in there will make people sick and kill plants and curious animals. This kind of "destroy" mentality is counter-active.
The emphasis needs to shift from selfish anger to active responsibility. The same goals can be accomplished, but through means that benefit or at least stabilize the people, animals, plants and geography around. Yeah, it might take more time, it might mean scratching ideas that would make more sense because they "work with the concept more aesthetically". But ultimately, we have to ask ourselves what is more important; the individualistic triumph of cleverness, or the ethical, communal triumph of intelligence. It's a weird place for us to come from. Considering we are continually told to be ourselves, screw the crowd, and that everyone is out to get us, it's hard to think of others as our allies. But I think it's high time we do that. Not by following the masses, but by seeking out genuine companionship, responsible ways of creation, and honest, open dialogue.
Cynicism ain't gonna get us very far. In fact, I believe that's the biggest problem with the portion of the youth who can actualize change. We gotta stop smashing our Stratocaster on the stage floor and start putting it in the hands of a thirsty young girl. It will make far more difference. In a spectacle that proclaims as its mission, "MORE, MORE, MORE!", we need to become the louder voice, screaming, "WE CAN DO BETTER!" What is better than more? I'm not sure, but I know some things that go into it. We're sick with an absurd hunger and the doctor's telling us there's no reason to change our diet. He doesn't even acknowledge the tapeworm comfortably inside. We have to tell him we know it's there. We have to become the doctors, the teachers, the students, the explorers, the crafters, the farmers, the builders, the ambassadors and councils that determine our own well-being. I know I've got a long way to go. I'm writing a blog post that I'll post on my Facebook wall in hopes that someone reads and comments. But I swear, I want to make a change. I want to try to engage people in conversation. I want to learn what people have to offer, no matter what their background. I'm just so sick of all this... stuff. I want to experience reality, or at least the quasi-reality we're offered, to see what transformation needs to happen, through creative, responsible destruction and construction. I don't like being so cynical, as easy as it is. Anyone else?
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Axis Mundi is currently comprised of Communist Day Care Center, Algae Records and Tapes, Forget Records, and Sonic Lullaby. The collective was formed on the simple mission statement of artist success through artist collaboration, and its labels specialize in music ranging from lo-fi tape fuzz, to ambient shoegaze, to country rock.So we can all expect to hear No Age Sigur Ros Drive-By-Truckers, not Hawthorne Heights Yanni Toby Keith. Believe me, I know this. I've seen many of the involved bands. Axis Mundi holds showcases some weekday nights at The Berkeley Front. But what excites me is that I've not seen many of the bands, too. Tons of bands that aren't your everyday expected Detroit Pop-Rock. It's like punks and hipsters and nerds all holding hands on stage. If there's anything I can say about the guys in charge of this event, it's that they are hopelessly excited about music in its infinite forms. And they're damn good at bringing people together to enjoy it, no matter what kinds of cliques those people might wanna stay in. Bands that are playing, which stretch all across the board, include Sound and Fury, DandyLyon Whine, Dinosaur Monster, Pupils, Sea Turtle Restoration Project, and other diverse acts, including offshoots of Mother Whale and Jura. One of them, St. Zita, is brand new and is comprised of a viola and a guzheng (pronounced goo-jung) and my nerdy self cannot wait!
This whole thing is going down at North End Studios (known to many as Sparklewood), which is that huge building on Grand Boulevard in Detroit with the teal and pink drip mural. Thanks to Katie for making that lonely building so easy to direct people to.
Because the collective is very much about the fusing of visual and sonic art, they've also made sure this is an art exhibit. Artists that have either worked directly with some of the bands involved or around the collective's orbit have work selected for the gallery. Alana Carlson specializes in allegorical painting, but has shown her installation chops with her involvement in Forget's performances. Steve Gambord experiments with all sorts of mixed media and is continually pushing his own 2D boundaries. Other artists on display include Christin Richards, Mike Ross, photographer Gabriel Banuelos, Eric Peiti, and many others.
It's August. I'm pretty sure August is party month. (Don't tell July, he'll get jealous.) Everything starts at 7:30 on TOMORROW, FRIDAY. It's just $5 for all that fun. Here's the fb page. Come equipped.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
My friend died today. Or yesterday. It doesn't matter which day. I've always been able to tell others that I feel blessed to have had a great childhood with little grief and strong foundations. Although I have a lot of friends who encountered significant loss early in life, and I have encountered major loss of some kind, I've been lucky in that a peer never unexpectedly left. This is hard.
David Blair is an artist, a poet, a musician, an actor, an author, a thinker, a performer, a teacher, and one of many gods I've hugged in life. I'm so happy, in a way, that I have an opportunity to help cultivate the seeds he's spread. He's not gone, but he did die. I'm expecting him to call and say, Oh, they mixed me up with some other dude. You know how it goes! and then laugh big with a piratey tooth gap. But he left, and he just gave everyone he touched with the next task: to take his lessons and craft them into our own beauty, to give that beauty to other people of all creeds and stations (I don't care how cheesy this is) and to ensure that that beauty is multipliable infinitely. He traveled the whole world and called Detroit home. He introduced me to half of my friends, and the other half just knew him. I played his CD release two years ago, my Birthday Eve. We did an impromptu unrehearsed Purple Rain. I'm rambling but I guess I can't help it.
This loss is such a shock that it requires me to be vigilant of all the amazing people that Blair has touched in his life. He was SO completely uncompromising that he lived 7 lifetimes in his short 50 years. And he didn't lead just by example; hundreds of students can attest to that. I'm one of them.
He has believed so enthusiastically about humanity that typical Detroit cynicism immediately stops being cool as soon as he enters the room. His natural knack for musical and English language commands whatever he points his tongue or pen or guitar toward. He's worked hard his whole fucking amazing life. The things he can see make the most privileged feel blind. Just say "hello" and you may have stopped a war, right?
I'm going to leave you with a poem about this city. Why? Because I can't lie, I hate it here sometimes. But you can't listen to this piece and not fall in love with the insanity like the first time. You just can't. Us mental cases are too sweet.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Saturday, June 18, 2011
- I've never seen The Big Lebowski.
- I come from a Polish family but never had polish food 'til college friends who live in Hamtramck educated me.
- I once wanted to be a preacher.
- I once loved really shitty country music. (No, like REALLY shitty.)
- I've never had collard greens, ribs, or any form of duck, rabbit, or elk.
- I know how to change oil.
- I really believe that the government is tracking us through RFIDs and other such things through vaccines and other tools. (Though they just need facebook, already proving useful to them)
- I still weep when I hear a young voice sing an incredible aria in an incomparable tone.
- I've never been south of northern Tennessee (other than Hawaii, which I was sick for half of and it's like going to another country so it doesn't count), or west of the Mississippi (read above).
- I hate.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Here, now that I've given you a readable, interesting paragraph, let me confuse the shit out of you and myself and go completely off topic.
The problem with the era of the simulacra is that language and valuable/meaningful action are so vastly set apart that language becomes its own hyperreal action, set apart from valuable/meaningful action. An easy (albeit, very superficial and non-interesting) example of this is the popular facebook copy/paste status that is intended to raise awareness for one thing or another. we've all seen (or posted ourselves) that "90 percent of you won't repost this, but 2 billion people die every year of horcruxes. If you know someone who's been affected by horcruxes, put this as your status for one hour and I'm sure so many people will all of a sudden cry a cure into existence." Thing is, it's an easy way to tell people that you care. The digital world is a funny thing (here I'm jumping ahead; follow me!): you can renege on just about anything you type by indicating your tone wasn't taken in the right light. This is different from previous print-based communications because it takes place on a more immediate context and in much smaller sentences/fewer characters. Twitter statuses can be taken as poetry because they are packed with as much information as possible that anyone with a bit of wile can use to invite all sorts of interpretations. ...Hence, trolls. It's like a triple dog dare to be a troll. And anyone can do it at any time, because there is no font for sarcasm and the anonymity of the web gives so much power to play with serious people. The internet segregates and separates people just like "IRL" because it's language-based, and language is the origin of segregation. So you have well-educated people (who have been shown the tools to use language in a wide variety of ways) and poorly-educated people (who have not) communicating on a single platform--not to mention all the age differences, and they often will separate from one another, or when they clash, more virulent results are seen than when they clash IRL, because of the mask and immaterial nature of digital communication (no bodily risk is associated, usually, with online bickering). The cleverest wins online, and seems to be the ultimate goal of modern Homo Sapiens. So this is the contemporary problem. A platform for an ultimate world community to congregate is invaluable and utopian, but when it is immaterial, the results will ultimately be immaterial. ...Right?
If you actually read all that, then I congratulate you upon your mapping of my brain.
In keeping with the theme, TL;DR version: OMG the world sucks and is awesome too and it's all the internet's fault and it's just like real life dood.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Sunday, April 10, 2011
That key figure will be undoubtably Jeff Milo.
They will pore through digital stacks of Jeff's writing, his interviews, flourished depictions of guitarists' demeanors, moments at shows described as spiritual experiences (with a monk's inspiration!), and the strange quirks of the keyboardists who can't stay on stage. 3am interviews at Dunkin' Donuts with scruffy, wild-eyed thirty-somethings will become richly romantic scenes to the musicians of the future. Because of Jeff's equal and unfettered love of both music and words, the misplaced underbelly of this town will be forever remembered in the most fantastic way; the most honest and glorious way, through his eyes.
Jeff has been writing relentlessly about Detroit music for years, keeping a blog and attending countless shows. It's his Birthday this week, and just last month he hit 1000 posts on Deep Cutz. Friends will be playing his Birthday party at the Loving Touch in Ferndale with Golden, Legendary Creatures, and Electric Fire Babies. There might be some surprises through the night, too. It's on Wednesday, and I'm sure the place will be packed. You should go and buy him a drink. I know I will.
...[T]ruth be told, inspiration to keep writing here is refreshed on an almost weekly basis; it could be the subtlest of gestures, a fleeting lyric belted out live and almost lost under piles of feedback, or the fire in someone's eyes as they emit their stories, their takes, their opinions, their plans, ...their hopes, to me, at the side of a bar or the side of a stage.Jeff, we emit those stories to you with the most passion, the most inhibition, because we know you are listening. We know you can never stop listening. We love your determination, your care, your love of gin and half-caff coffee, your praise and promotion, your wit and ceaseless enthusiasm, and your words. You are the heart and hope of Detroit's independent musical soul, and I think I can speak on behalf of everyone you know when I say, Cheers, brother. Your Birthday should be the happiest anyone could have. You deserve a place in history as a legend of music writers. We hope you never stop, but if you stopped now, the world would still never be the same.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
The next band to hit was Robin Goodfellow. There's one on the list I got. They brought their pyramid-headed wood nymphs and strange electric folklore into the Jersey Shore bar while Superman IV played on a huge screen behind them. It was pretty incredible.
I love ^that picture^. I think it's something I'll never replicate.
Banxx was after Robin Goodfellow, but it ended up being Allan James by himself. I think I heard in passing that there was supposed to be someone else in the band but something happened to bar that. Either way, it ended up being awesome in ways (he covered Vic Chesnutt and offered hilarious banter), but awkward in others, as it became a strange lull between a couple of concept bands. Just a set order strangeness.
Then came Marco Polio and the New Vaccines. I painted Steven, a somewhat regular thing for me now. I had better start getting a stylist's salary. A couple of the 20 bouncers at the Mars Bar were alarmed at the frantics of Polio, and at one point two friends got yelled at for standing where the dancers had been doing their thing. Two new songs, very enjoyable. Black cardboard box monoliths were in the audience, and the only flop of the night was when the audience insisted on throwing said boxes around. Hard-edged boxes are far more dangerous than balloons.
After the regular set was done, they continued their last song (a classic, "Dance With Nobility") into the streets of Hamtramck, with a resident walking a dog beside us and so many of us in tow. Steven was able to make it onto the Night Move, but the failure to coordinate the whole band to get on thwarted the idea of riding to another venue. Still, the parade down Jos Campau was surreal.
But our fears were assuaged by the time we went up to play. The place was pretty full, and a friend recorded the whole thing, and I just have to say that sound guy was the best we've ever had. Not only could you hear the violin perfectly, the friggin' clarinet was clear as a bell. We had a lot of fun and introduced another new song. (Photo by J Michelle Dark)
As soon as we were torn down, the guerrilla Detroit Marching Band entered with all manner of drum and trumpet. It was cool to see them, though I guess some people had heard them play like ten times over the weekend and got a little sick of it. Once was just fine enough for me.
I got to see a little of Electric Lion Sound Wave, who make great sounds that coddle and surprise your ears. Since I had stayed at a single venue on Thursday, though, I was determined to go out and experience other bands/bars. First we tried Smalls, where Bars of Gold was playing. I believe Scottie is cheating on me with Brandon Moss, which is okay with me, because he's fantastic. But neither of us got a chance to see his other love, because the place was so jam-packed you could not get in the room. Seriously. So we packed that train up and went to Skipper's with some other friends to see Tare.
You should see Tare. Really. They are high-energy, spasmodic, and damn good. It's a two piece featuring members of I, Crime, but this band is nothing like the americana-rock of the latter. Switching beats, moods and tempos drastically in the middle of songs (all perfectly timed, too), they are entertaining as hell to watch. And I know, I've observed hell.
It was time to head back to Baker's, and luckily we didn't miss any band completely. I came in while Jehovah's Witness Protection Program was on their last song, the one about freedom. Anthony was able to crowd surf in the strange room, which was awesome. I was a little tuckered out, but you have to keep on keepin' on, so I got another beer and got excited for Duende!
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
I don’t pretend that anyone cares about other people’s carefully-thought-out picks for Hamtramck Blowout (in the same way that I haven’t a clue nor a care about these Oscar things everyone’s pretending are important). But I guess if I’m running a blog and make a post every so often, and if that blog should appear on a roster of Detroit music resources, I should probably write something about music once in a while.
I want to see a bunch of new bands this year. There are a lot of classics that I’ve just never seen, either, but I’m pretty good at faking that I have. And there are several bands that I have seen, (some multiple times!) and remember nothing about the whole night. I’m going to play it safe with my opinions, though. The new/unheard of bands are a stab in the dark for me so I can’t advise who to see, but I’m glad they are getting this exposure (considering mine is part of this group, too!).
So if I could transport myself with extreme ease to any bar I wanted, and if I didn’t work at a restaurant at night, this is what I would do on Blowout week. This list is for anyone who is obsessed with everything I do. Read on, Mom.
This is easy because everything is in one place and spaced out in a timely fashion. As much as I’ve tried to catch Secret Twins all over the place, I have, alas, been unable to see them. I’ve heard their tracks online and I dig it. I’m a little puzzled about The EEKS playing this night; I saw them this summer at one of their first gigs and it wasn’t anything special to me at the time. A lot of energy from the singer; power-punk with a poppy edge. I suppose they’ve grown in waves since then, though they weren’t bad as fledglings in August. One band I really want to catch is FAWN; they had a record release thingy that doubled as breakfast one time this summer and I thought, “Oh, how cute” and then when I listened to the music I thought, “Oh, how great”. It seems the fairer sex is dominating the night at the Magic Stick. The majority of the musician community is unconsciously wincing a little inside. Sorry, I had to say it.
It’s pretty hard. But I do know that at midnight I will be obligated and ready to watch/participate with Marco Polio and the New Vaccines. Just recently they opened up for Deerhoof and I don’t even think I have to mention my obvious bias. I will probably try to start the night off at GofC Lounge (that’s called street talk; I’m cool enough that I can use it so I don’t have to put in a dozen more letters), with Tone and Niche. They are pretty nice cats. I’ve seen them many times before, but they always deliver and would be a great fresh way to get going. Nichole will kill on fiddle; I can only aspire to even attain her tone (ha) someday. Because they’re going on so early, I’ll be able to catch Hi-Speed Dubbing in the Hall just yards away. I like those guys. Definitely a change of pace and it’ll give me a chance to pay more attention to Justin’s guitar playing. Then I’ll pop back over to the Lounge again to catch some of Scarlet Oaks; they will have some lineup changes this time around, but I hope to hear some grittiness on drums. Noelle was great for the dirty and nonchalant way she kept the beat, and I want to see what a change of personnel will do for them.
In a perfect world I would make it to see Robin Goodfellow at Mars Bar. This project has been remarkably well put together in a small amount of time. I blame it on their crazy light show, pyramid hats, and Nathan Burgundy’s firm commitment to the bowtie. And I really want to check out Indian Guides, as my multi-faceted friend Jason Worden is a member and I have yet to see them. But it may be impossible to get to Skipper’s and all over the rest of town before going back to Mars Bar to see Polio at midnight. …Because I also want to finally hear Zoos of Berlin at the New Dodge. I can’t even remember if I have actually seen them live, which is a sad thing, because I often pretend that I’ve heard everyone in this town. But I have heard their recordings and they are quite fabulous. I’m sure anyone reading this probably knows that already though, except my mom (hi, Mom!). If I weren’t watching my maniac boyfriend and his maniac friends tear it up at midnight, I would be simultaneously at Small’s for Illy Mack and the New Dodge for Child Bite.
This is the night I will grace the stage. My five-piece band, Eleanora, will be at Baker’s Streetcar at 9:20 sharp for the Loco Gnosis showcase, which is exciting. We plan on literally murdering everyone there with our music. But in a way that you feel like you could never experience something so wonderful ever again, so you welcome death. Though the reality may be that I will stay for the rest of the Loco night, after I play I will try to catch Forget at Whiskey in the Jar. Another one of Worden’s projects, it features a different lineup each and every time, and is completely improvised. How’s that for a set list? After Forget makes me forget everything I know about performing and creating, I’d like to see some good weird rock and roll over at Small’s where Bars of Gold is playing. It’ll snap me back into the present time and place, plus I hear that drummer is kind of a badass. I’d fancy a trip back to Skipper’s to see Tare, which I loved about 2-3 years ago when I first saw the two-piece at the Trumbullplex. Drums and guitar, hard and fast, short and dirty. It’s starting to sound like Friday will be a night for heavy drinking. It would be nice to catch the beginning of The Octopus, and then see some of The Kickstand Band at GofC Hall, where my middle school friend Allison is showing her bass chops. I’m used to her on trombone and I’ve never seen this band. And then it’ll be back to square one at Baker’s with Duende tearing it up: the craziest vocals, the longest bass drum, and the slickest guitarist in Detroit all under one roof.
Saturday I will be both hung over and working at night, so the following is hypothetical. But Pewter Cub is friggin’ amazing and I’ve already written about them, so obviously they are now famous and everyone will be at their set at Baker’s. It would be fun to check out “DJ Tim Vulgar” at the Painted Lady, and be a part of his Kresge performing arts grant at the Human Eye Showcase. I think I’d mostly be hanging out at the Loco Gnosis stage again, though, with kinda-newbies Crappy Future; the best family band in Detroit, Woodman; and last year’s apple of Detroit bloggers and partiers eye, Macrame Tiger. I am not going to be there because two of my coworkers are in that band. Other favorites of the night definitely would include The Mantons (another great drummer), Legendary Creatures (who can cover Elliot Smith and not sound like a fuckwad? They can.), FUR (again, I’ve written about them, they will make you feel all warm, tingly and stabby inside), and Electric Fire Babies (mash-up of Carjack and Hi Speed Dubbing and other craziness, bring it on!).
I put waaaay less energy toward Saturday than the rest of the days. Sorry. It’s the law of sleepiness combined with a lack of concern due to the fact I won’t be there.
I want to ask, what are the new acts you would recommend I see, or groups outside of my normal zone that are worth making my way to? Let me know!
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Rant that occurs while waiting alone and drunk for supposedly the best pizza ever and looking at stupid pictures of Eminem and watching basketball
I find myself caring about this stupid shit. And I'm not sorry, it is stupid shit. Perfectly constructed characterizations based upon statistical findings about the public coma that has settled on the vast majority of the first world population.