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| The Sixth Station |
A Chicago expatriate who's now almost a full-fledged Milwaukeean is wiping faces and taking names. Did you know that Veronica is the patron saint of both photographers AND laundry workers? |
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Wednesday, May 14, 2008 Catching up in the clubs I'm trying really really hard to get back into the swing of things, but the weather just isn't cooperating. Still, I managed to see a lot of great stuff this weekend. Amy Rohan, who I've been trying to catch for sometime, did a set at Linneman's that impressed me. She's definitely a folkie (and I'm generally not a folkie person) but she includes in her repertoire songs you wouldn't normally catch a folkie doing -- like Tears for Fears' "Mad World" (or anything by tears for fears) or some of Bowie's more rocking stuff. She does it in that girl-with-a-guitar-in-a-coffeehouse style that almost lends it an ironic twist: here's this girl with a sweet voice going "The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had." And she can also belt out a twisted love song with the best of them. I don't know if it was the audience or what, but my only advice to Rohan would be to acknowledge her audience more. She's got both the vocal and guitar playing chops, but to keep a Friday night audience's attention, they needed to be involved, especially since she didn't have the volume that a backup band would give her to demand attention. Still, I'd like to see her again in a more intimate environment -- Linneman's setup encouraged people to chit-chat while the musician is playing. More powerful women onstage Saturday night as well. Started the night at Linneman's again to catch Fred and Ethel - a two person act with "Fred" on guitar and co-lead vocals, and "Ethel" on various percussion instruments including tambourine and a small stand cymbal. They kind of answered the question "What if the White Stripes were folkies instead of garage rockers?" Well, for one thing, Ethel has a bit more stage presence than Meg White, and Fred probably wouldn't be interesting without her on stage. That's not to say he's boring, but clearly the presence of Ethel forces him to step it up, making for an enjoyable show. However, I had to duck out to shoot a commission, and I didn't mind anyway, because it was good to see the vast improvement of Guido's Racecar since the last (first) time I saw them. Obviously they've rehearsed together more and have become a more cohesive unit as a band together -- as opposed to the just-formed-with-this-lineup act I saw last winter. The basic songs were good, everybody in the band is a pro, and Roni Allwaise is a terrifically arresting front person for a band, with her ravaged burlesque queen look draped on her impossibly skinny frame. The improvements this time around: much more (and better) dynamic range from both Allwaise and the band -- this is only the result of just playing together longer, more cohesive participation from the band members, including backup vocals and stage placement and movement. They're tight and fun to watch. Roni seems to constantly be checking your reaction to what she sings or does out of the corner of her eye, but at the same time doesn't seem to care: she's just curious as to your reaction. This bodes well for the torch-infused barroom rock and roll Guido's Racecar puts out. Plus, it was a fun assignment to shoot. Some bands don't understand that when you put lights on them and put them on a stage, people are going to look. This band is not one of them. They completely understand, and they give you plenty to look at. Back to Linneman's to catch the end of a not-often-enough set from Rory Lake and his band of fellow Chicagoans, Cooler by the Lake. They're interesting looking in a totally different way: plenty of people crammed on stage together who don't look like they'd ever have a word to say to each other offstage, with a setlist that twists several genres around so radically that you have no clue how to categorize them. The three songs I saw Saturday argue for Glam, Metal, Punk, Prog, and a touch of country. Everybody in the bar seemed dumbstruck, even those who have experienced the Rory Lake show before. The night closed out with Dr Chow's Love Medicine, and I just learned it might be bassman Andy Aeros Kaiser's last gig (or one of the last) with them. End of an era: Kaiser's highly trained jazz background added a layer of complexity to Frank Chandek's psychedelic blues and garage-era covers that helped make Dr Chow stand a few steps above the regular collection of late 60s-inspired collectives. I have no doubt the next guy (I'm sworn to secrecy to his identity, but I promise you, he's good too) will take this in a different, but equal quality direction, but I'm still going to have to get used to not hearing Kaiser's fingers dance all over his fretboard. At least not in this band. Oh, and I saved the best for last. Nike, get ready for you next advertising campaign: Air Stella! Stella had her ballet recital on Sunday, and what a terrific Mother's Day treat that was. Best part was the magnificent jete she pulled off toward the end of her class' routine. The whole recital for the Milwaukee Ballet School was lovely -- I was genuinely interested in what classes other than my own kids' were doing, and many of them impressed me. Of course it starts out with the 4-year-olds: clumsy, unsure, but happy to be on stage with their eyes completely on their instructor -- a few waving to the folks out in the audience. As the kids grow older, you see similar skills being showcased, but smoother, more artfully. Stella's class seemed to be at a pivotal point -- they've mastered the basic skills and are just beginning to add the artistry to it, but are still having to think about their form instead of it being intuitive. By intermission time, we were left with the Academy modern dance, who blew us away with their interpretation of Baz Luhrmann's "Everybody's Free to Wear Sunscreen" -- with it's subtle messages of concentrating on the really important things in life. The final piece was a lengthy (compared to the rest) selection of classical ballet pieces, with clearly the stars of the advanced classes getting their chance to show off their skills, perhaps using this recital as an audition tape for college. So now it's Wednesday, Day Three of Bike to Work Week, and it's not seeming like this extraordinary thing. Maybe it's because I've been biking to work for a month now, maybe it's because I'm working at a place where my bicycle isn't so much of an oddity, maybe I'm just happy that I have an alternative to spending $4/gallon on gas! Last year, I estimate I saved about $90 a month by not driving everyday to work, this year -- since I don't have to pay monthly parking (I just pay on a daily, as needed basis), I'm saving at least $110 in parking along, and I'm going to guess about $120 in gas. And that's just me driving from my house in the city downtown. I can't imagine paying to commute in every day, not at these prices. However, I don't ride my bike to the clubs at night, so I'm going to have to drive to the following places this weekend:
Labels: advance warnings, local music, milwaukee art and culture, stella sam brian family V'ron reported in at 9:14 PM 1 comments links to this post Wednesday, May 07, 2008 What'd I miss? Last weekend lots of good things were happening in Milwaukee. Our friends the brewmeisters again held their annual Milwaukee stging of The Big Brew and were one of many homewbrewers who all agreed to invite their friends over and brew the same recipe of beer. The International Pop Overthrow Festival was also this past weekend, which in Milwaukee could have easily been named Paul Wall Fest, since I associate his name with perfect pop madness. But I was off in rural Wisconsin with my Girl Scouts, missing what we were told was a massive downpour of rain (we got annoying 6 hour drizzle all day instead), but having a good time nonetheless. We taught them all sorts of dangerous things: how to start a fire, how to use a hand axe, how to use and sharpen a jackknife, how to tie knots. To our pride, the girls were kind of afraid of the jackknife and the matches -- which meant they had respect for their power and were thus very careful with them. Good. They'll build good habits this way, and hopefully when they get over this (otherwise healthy) fear, they'll have good habits built into their routines.They had a little too much fun with the hand axe, i have to say. They really enjoyed chopping wood, which was fine by me, but being 9 year olds, they didn't accomplish much. I ended up having to finish the jobs if we wanted enough wood for a fire. Of course, my kid was the instigator of the "party tent." Every troop has one, and of course, it's my kid that has to stay up the latest. I have to admit, I tended to be in the party tent when I was a kid, too. Well, on the first night of camp, that is. The second night of camp everybody passed out good and early. Still, there wasn't a lot of whining despite the rain. We were treated to spectacular views of a moon-less sky. A lot of the girls were strictly city folk, and don't often get to see such a big starry sky. Actually, that goes for me too. So instead of rocking out in a smoke filled club like I tend to do on Saturday nights, after the girls crashed, I spent some time silently taking in the starry sky, and just letting my mind wander. This weekend is a different story. Saturday night is going to be a hard pick. Dr Chow and the rest of my posse are at Linneman's, and normally I'd say, "Gee, I NEVER get to seee Chow" and so I'd head over to the Stonefly to see Guido's Racecar and the return of the fabulous Barrettes, back from hiatus after drummer Joolz' hand surgery. But here's the thing: Rory Lake and the amazing Cooler By the Lake are joining Chow, and so if I'm successful in booking a sitter, perhaps I'll be going back and forth between clubs and hopefully catching plenty of each set. That's if I get a sitter. In the meantime, we go up to some high school in Mequon to see my beautiful girl (you know, the instigator of the "party tent") dance in her ballet recital. I won't even try to be at all fair: she will be beautiful and amazing, and blow me away with her grace. And looking ahead, the summer concerts in the parks schedules are starting to get released. I'll have my picks next week, but it looks to be an especially good lineup at Humboldt Park, and we'll see what Jazz in the Park and the Concerts in the Gardens has for a lineup. Bands are already peppering their schedules with their Summerfest bookings, and I'm already having to choose which fests to hit on the upcoming weekends. Finally, one more indication that the winter is over: my tulips are in full bloom! I planted my entire front yard with tulips, and this is the week they're peaking. The neighbors are all walking past, and its cheering me up to get up in the morning and see the blooms. Plus, I got my first major bike injury! This year I gashed out my calf with my front chainring. It looks so awful, that I know that winter's over. And I didn't even notice it until a couple of hours later (I'd thought it was just a grease mark, but grease isn't blood red.). I'm missing a lot, clearly, which means maybe it's time to slow down. V'ron reported in at 9:26 PM 0 comments links to this post Sunday, April 27, 2008 Lost in Waukesha, Finding America I don't know if the Cactus Club had power Friday night, but we didn't. So we spent the night at home as a family, lighting candles, and telling stories and actually entertaining ourselves by having a conversation. I'd told Stella about the last great power outage we suffered -- she was only 16 days old, back in '98, when a winter storm had power out for two days and we ended up staying at Gramma's. So only 5 hours without power in the spring was a minor inconvenience. Saturday, however, was a different story. Before I get to my usual "Arts and Entertainment" rundown, I really need to rant about trying to find one's way in Waukesha County. I talked to enough people to learn I'm not alone -- what is with that place? There's enough perfectly intelligent people who live there, and on paper, it looks like it makes sense. But -- I can't put my finger on it -- nobody can seem to give directions that work there, the streets seem to change names or numbers every few blocks, and things like "East Avenue" have absolutely nothing remotely to do with the compass direction "East." It's on the south side of the city, it is not on the east side of the city, it doesn't get you to the East side of the city, and if you drive it all the way through, you will be no more "East" than when you first started. Maybe it was named for some guy named "Fred East" or something. I bring this up because I'm taking my Girl Scout troop camping and I saw directions to the closest hopsital to the campsite, and i noted that this closest hospital happened to be Waukesha Memorial. Panic set in: you mean to tell me that if I'm in an emergency situation with an injured girl in my care, I'm going to have to find my way in Waukesha? No, I took a couple of hours and made a test run and I'm glad I did, because as usual, I got lost, ended up at Elmbrook Memorial and finally figured where I went wrong. (Hint: East Avenue figures in prominently.) So, rest assured, parents of my girls, I now know how to get to the hopsital from camp, I have written down directions and noted prominent landmarks (as opposed to the directions you sometimes get from Waukeshans: "Go on Hwy Such and Such which used to by State Road So and So -- remember, there used to be a Dairy Queen on it, right?") and it will NOT take me the hour and fifteen minutes it took me to initially find it. On to A&E: What an uplifting treat Joel Richter's photography turned out to be! Very abstract in some respects, and when I say uplifting, it was nice. It was warm. It was not "inspirational" (read: nauseating). It was simply images he made with his point and shoot (he is, like I did, taking the foray into digial carefully) that just sugggested a contented, warm place in life. If you missed this, you can go back to the Gay Arts Center on S 2nd and get this exhibiton accompanied by music on May 10 --from the English, French and German Baroque performed by members of the Saint Paul's Choir with Jerrod Fenske, conductor. If I'm not too pooped from other engagements, I might do that. Before I went to Shank Hall for the Thunder and Lightning release extravaganza, I stopped in at Don Quixote across the street from the GAC with a pair of co-workers for some tapas, and was treated to the sassiest waitress I've had in a long time. But she was European sassy, and I think that's why I liked her. The tuna croquetas were very, very good, the "tortilla" (which basically seemed more like a potato and garlic quiche -- and as my companions noted, "They are really in love with the garlic here") was almost a dinner in itself. So off to Shank Hall, where I arrived to catch the tail end of the show. I missed Marvelous Marla, I missed Harvey Scales, I missed Dave Alswager sitting in as Neil Diamond (did they time this to coincide with Neil Diamond Week on American Idol, perchance -- can you wait to see what David Cook is going to do with this?), but at least I caught what I really came to hear Claire "Thunder" Sardina do: sing a trio of Patsy Cline tunes to a room that clearly was filled more earlier in the evening. This is a shame, because when Sardina turns on the Patsy, that's where she shines. She doesn't sound like Cline -- which is what keeps her from being a cheap imitation -- she's just a person who happens to do the same material Cline did -- and she does it organically and convincingly well. Why they stick this at the end, where fewer people are going to be around to hear the best she has to offer, is beyond me. On the other hand, I got to see it because I was running late, so it worked for me. But still, few people can touch this material and come out shining. Sardina does, which is why it deserves to be something a show is built around, not an afterthought. Spotted in the crowd: globetrotter Judy Rohan, back from a destination wedding in Paris, gearing up for daughter Amy's next gig, which i really have to catch. Everything about Amy I've heard indicates I'll like/rave about her here, so I should get my butt out and see her already. Ended the night at the Riverwest Commons, to catch Sunday morning I had breakfast with my photo collective, the Cream City Photogs, at the Anodyne Coffee Shop on brady, and had the most delicious whole wheat waffle with "the works" (pecans and bananas in addition to standard butter and syrup) to give me the carbo-boost i needed to finish my bike ride. And the Photogs meeting was a boost as well. You've probably noticed that -- in addition to this unillustrated post -- I haven't been shooting for shit lately. Meeting with those guys always gives me inspiration to at least try. Labels: local music, milwaukee art and culture V'ron reported in at 7:10 PM 0 comments links to this post Friday, April 25, 2008 This just in... I knew this show was coming up, but when I was at home last night, I googled it and it said something like May or whatever... but my co-worker Joel Richter has a photography show that opens at the Gay Arts Center Saturday night. The center's location is 703 S 2nd -- it's definitely an easy stop to make tomorrow night from 6-9, so while you're still deciding which club to grace with your presence, you can grace yourself with "Art From St. Paul's." Labels: advance warnings V'ron reported in at 1:31 PM 0 comments links to this post Thursday, April 24, 2008 I looked and I did not hear So I did a lot of gallery night walks, but I was too pooped to hit any bands this past weekend. Friday night I stayed in the third ward, and checked out the CoPA show at the P&H Dye House, and it was indeed impressive. The thing about CoPA is that they do have a variety of styles amongst its membership, and the show was wonderfully varied in those styles. It was almost overwhelming, the size of the show, but still very good. Walked over to the Marshall Building next, and ran into Danielle Champagne, whose rock and roll photography seems to have faded into the film age. She mentioned that she has a stockpile of photographs of Beautiful Bert (who, you may know passed on recently, and no, I have no more information other than what I've already posted about him) that I'm going to help her get scanned and online, and hopefully can talk her into putting a lot of her other work online as well. She pretty well documented the underground Riverwest music scene in the 90s -- I'm sure a lot of people would be very interested in her work. We also popped into The Cedar Gallery to see some illuminating paintings by Charles James Kaiser. Illuminating is the right word for his work -- it seems to glow about, a very otherworldly treatment of what could have been very mundane subjects: people near a swimming pool, backyards, etc. Guiding us through was Kaiser's second cousin, Milwaukee political gossip Michael Horne, whose own writing has been a favorite of mine from his old "Plenty of Horne" column in the Shepherd to his now current blog. Enjoyed the art, enjoyed the company, and I went home to enjoy a fine carry out dinner from Royal India. I was thoroughly planning to go out and enjoy more art, as well as a few bands, but I laid down on the couch, and the next thing I knew it was 2 am. Guess I was tired. Saturday I didn't fare much better when it came to listening to music. Stella and Sam and I made it to Diamond Ink, where Washday's Cigar Box guitars were even more impressive than they sounded. They are quality instruments, and they take the beauty of their origins as ornate cigar boxes and wonderfully incorporate that history. Mike Fredricksen's paintings never fail to disappoint. He has a way of capturing a persona in his paintings (I've seen him perfectly nail people I know, so I am taking a calculated guess that I can trust he did that with others as well) that captures the personality as well. Someday when I can afford it, I'm going to commission something from him. Finally, Jim Eanelli had some work that was more abstract, but warranted further investigation. I'm not a huge abstract fan, but his work seemd to fit in with Washday, Fredricksen, and John Lennon's sketches. Again, I had totally planned on going out that night, but stayed in with the kiddos instead. Finished off the art week checking out the Foto exhibit at the Milwaukee Art Museum, and if you haven't had a chance to check it out, I heartily recommend it. It's nicely curated, and amongst some of the predictably depressing work (face it, the first half of the 20th Century wasn't a happy time for Central Europe), there are moments of humanity that seem timeless -- from the soccer goalie barely missing the ball (and that moment of regretful agony on his face), to portraits of couples in love, to women finding the source of their mystery and power, it's a great survey of what Central Europe was all about, socially, artistically, and emotionally. Bravo, MAM. Anyway, on to this weekend. Serious power pop bill at the Cactus Club Friday night: The Box Social (from Madison, saw them a half year ago and was mighty impressed), Molitor, and headlining will be The New Loud, back from a national tour. Saturday night at Shank they're celebrating the release of the Thunder and Lightning movie -- the story of the Milwaukee couple who made the Neil Diamond show their life -- with Mark Shurilla and the Greatest Hits providing the tunes. Sunday, there's a terrific private show (worth trying to see if you can get tix for) at The Ring -- Run Run Run comes back from LA with the White Hot Tizzies and sixthstation favorites IROCKZ. Maybe this time around I'll be able to not sleep through the weekend. V'ron reported in at 9:36 PM 0 comments links to this post Thursday, April 17, 2008 Things to look at First, I have to brag. Sunday was chilly out, plus I was a bit tired from playing the night before, but I got it in me that if I didn't clean out the garden beds now, I would have to do so on some beautiful day where I'd rather be hanging and playing with the kids and grilling steaks. So I filled a dozen bags of yard waste with last fall's leaves (I don't rake them all, they're cheap mulch and this winter, we needed it!) and pruned the roses and raspberries. My sore lower back paid for it Monday, but it's done! All I have to do is plant! Anyway, this weekend is Gallery Night and Day, and there's plenty to see, especially if you have a bent toward music, as I do.
I already posted earlier this week about Saturday, but besides Binky Tunny playing at the Whitefish Bay Sendiks (and that will be worth it for the culture clash alone!), Record Store Day at both Atomic and the Exclusive Company, and then an evening with Dr Chow (at O Keefe's House of Hamburg), as well as Transistor Royale and the Liam Ford Band at Lulu. I'll be just as exhausted after this weekend as I was cleaning up the yard! Labels: advance warnings, local music, milwaukee art and culture, SE Wisconsin Life V'ron reported in at 9:56 PM 0 comments links to this post Monday, April 14, 2008 Consider this. Get this. Well, how'd the Loblolly show go, you ask? Actually quite well, considering. Considering that we couldn't figure out how to make the house bass rig work, thank goodness for Floor Model, whose studio was nearby and who let us use theirs. (Oh, and Floor Model was stellar as usual. I was nervous all night about having to follow them; they were tight, funny, spot on, rockin', just great stuff, as usual.) Considering I was too sick to promote the show, although we did make some money. Considering that half our fans were drinking for free at Mark Shurilla's 60s birthday party. Considering we didn't have a doorman (nor did Whispering Jeff tell me I needed to recruit one!) until Frank Chandik showed up and did the work for us. I hope he availed himself of the drinks off the door I offered him as payment. Oh, and get this: I know that hardly any venues in Milwaukee of this size were originally meant to be music venues, but it so happens that the stage at Zad's is directly under the heat blower. Nobody planned this, its just how things worked out. Because that's just what you need onstage: warm air blowing on you! Kind of gives you that "I'm sweatin' out the rock for YOU, Milwaukee!" look. I'd originally planned to wear my hair down and be all windblown and sex-ay and crap, but one minute onstage and reality kicked in: "V'ron, you're in your 40s, you're a mother of two, you aren't doing this rock and roll thing full time, and on top of that, you have a hot air blower right over your head. To hell with sexay. Wear your damn hair up," that little devil on my shoulder advised me. Oy. When I went to see the Mighty Lumberhorn last Thursday there (mostly to scope out the joint), none of those guys warned me about this. Speaking of the Lumberhorn, banjoist Boy Howdy (who goes by the name of Ted) slipped me some news about his other outfit, the Bikini Beachcombers. They've just released a CD, "Holiday i Waikiki" and it's almost sold out! Why? Get this: because apparently Otto Von Stroheim (despite the non-tiki sounding name, he's evidently a Tiki culture jammer) endorsed them on his blog, and according to Ted, "now a bunch of people wanna be our myspace friends and buy our disc." That's the power of the internets for you. Onto later this week: A couple of interestingly free things during the daytime this weekend. Saturday is National Record Store day, and Milwaukee's oldest independent shop (that's still standing), Atomic Records, will pack them in for a bunch of good local bands to celebrate with in-store sets from, among others, Testa Rosa and Juniper Tar. The Testarosans will be coming off a show at the Cactus Club this Friday. Also on Saturday, get this: Binky Tunny has 9 hours to fill at the Whitefish Bay Sendik's! You may want to consider making the rounds Saturday night. Dr Chow is at the Port of Hamburg, as they are one of the unofficial house bands, and being that I'm married to one of the guitar players, it's of course a pick for me. But get this double bill at Lulu that might make me late for the Chow show: The Liam Ford Band (rockabilly with a touch of the Man in Black) with one of my newest favs, surf magicians Transistor Royale. This is going to be a majorly tough call. And I'm sure as the week goes on, I'll find out about more great stuff happening this weekend. Spring is coming, and not only are the crocuses blooming, the musicians are coming out of the woodwork, bearing gig dates and amplifiers. Labels: advance warnings, shameless self promotion V'ron reported in at 8:20 PM 0 comments links to this post Saturday, April 12, 2008 Tonight I'm at Zad's Roadhouse Playing with my band, Loblolly. Floor Model will be there too. I scoped out the joint the other night, and shot this self-portrait in the restroom. Note Anne Bancroft while you're taking a whiz. That's the kind of place Zad's is, on south 2nd. Be there. V'ron reported in at 9:23 AM 0 comments links to this post Tuesday, April 08, 2008 Late Ballet review, early day at the zoo, late in the hoops season OK, OK, the ballet was last Friday night, but if I haven't been sick, I've been swamped. Such is life with a full time job, kids, and a girl scout troop. But Friday was lovely. We started at the Milwaukee Ballet's annual show at the Pabst -- where it's either a Genesis competition, or just three edgier selections, and this year was the latter. The first was a piece by corpsman Petr Zahradnícek, who set his thing to some Ethiopian jazz music. The music itself sounded like it had indeed been recorded in Ethiopia in that this wasn't exactly state of the art recordin, but the recording lent itself to the style of the music itself -- both the sounds and the rendering sounded like something out of a niteclub circa early 60s. The sets were also extremely space age bachelor pad -- I was expecting Lenny Bruce to come out and do a monolouge any minute. The costumes and dance itself evoked a few years later -- very angular, very Vogue-ish, very Edie Sedgwick. The Journal critic didn't like that the dance followed note for note of the music, but that was the thing i really liked about it. Maybe because I'm a musician, but I liked that clearly Zahradnicek listened very carefully to the music, and built his piece around it. And maybe I'm just partial to the fact that I like that the Ballet is looking within their own ranks to develop programming -- I suspect it makes this company a more attractive destination for up and coming dancers who want to be more than just a hired hand. Up next was Denver's Jessica Lang, and I guess it was OK. After Zahradniece's playful retro piece, perhaps I wasn't ready, or in the mood, for such a heavy piece. Even the music was heavy -- it sounded like the kind of thing you'd hear in Lord of the Rings -- when/if Gollum dies. Our protaganist keeps going up and down these stairs, trying to find God or something, and a chorus of other dancers seems totally oblivious of him, finding their own way. I'll need to give Lang another chance, but it just didn't fit. Especially when the next piece, by Nelly Von Bommel, last year's Genesis Competition winner, promised to be so uplifting based on her entry last year, based on meeting her (she was as bubbly and vivacious as her work), and based on the music she chose. And she delivered. Her piece, using gypsy music, was fun, funny, enchanting, and near the end almost involved the audience, as it culminated in what reminded me of street dance competition. It made me forget about the splitting headache my sinus infection was causing. I want to see more of her, that's for sure. Saturday, I promised the kids I'd take them to the zoo to "see all the new babies" and at first, I was happy to see that it was free day at the zoo, but as soon as I got off Hy 45 at Bluemound I really regretted it as I spotted the ridiculous traffic and crowds of people and couldn't help but comment on the obvious: "What a freakin' zoo!" I should have known that free day tends to bring out unbearable crowds, jeez, you'd think it was Summerfest, and on top of that, the main entrance wasn't functioning because they're building something new. So nobody knew where to get in, the parking lot was beyond control, and there was one skinny opening in the gates to get both in and out. Did anybody not think this through? Once in, however, it was tolerable. People seemed to understand that there were a ton of us there, so amazingly enough, people were polite about encouraging their kids to take turns being up front to see the animals. And we did get to see plenty of spring babies, especially in the primate house, while plenty of nervous parents had to explain things to kids like, "Oh, that's how the mommy monkey feeds her baby" "And, well, daddy monkey has a little itch. Let's go see the cats, OK?" (Being the lactivist I am, I thought it was kind of sad to see people shooing the kids away from the former, though.) There was lots of great music this weekend, but, frankly, I missed it. I had a date with a bottle of NyQuil. In the meantime, Stella and Brian just got home from the Bucks vs. the Celtics. The game's still going on, but they left with the home team down by 25, though they'd heard on the radio that the Bucks cut it to 6. Brian reports that T-Shirt guy was there, and frankly, his shirt tonight said it all: "I'm available for my GM Interview at any time." He's got my vote. Labels: bucks basketball, milwaukee art and culture, stella sam brian family V'ron reported in at 9:12 PM 0 comments links to this post Thursday, April 03, 2008 Yet another completely objective blog post ... because my husband's band played last Saturday night and they kicked ass, despite the fact that they were all sick as dogs. In fact, Rick Franecki couldn't even make it, he was that sick. It was all Jay Tiller could do to load his drums into the car and set up at the Circle A Cafe. Brian had to cover both lead and rhythm guitar parts, since Franecki couldn't make it out. Rusty Olson and Grant Richter, the two healthiest guys in the bunch (but not for long, I bet) got the job done. Personally, I think set two was where F/i hit their stride -- going into some almost raga-like dirge with enough space rock touches to be worthy of the F/i brand. And we can chalk up that overtime Bucks victory to Stella, who attended the Knicks game with me. Neither of us were expecting as good a game as it was --especially after a fairly lackluster anthem given by the Oshkosh Boys' Choir. We actually were confused at the end -- when was the last time we ever saw somebody get THREE free throw shots? Still, it was a good, exciting game and the kind of thing we would have liked to have seen more this season. Nevertheless, one highlight, T-Shirt guy, who, as far as I'm concerned, was one of the highlights of this season, is now a real star! He's the last image they show in the opening montage that uses the NBA "where xyz happens" , making him the lasting (positive) image in the fans' head. Yes, this is a short post. Because I think I got whatever it is that Tiller and Franecki got. I'm getting over it, but, before I turn in for the night, I have two pieces of band news to pass along.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna take a swig of NyQuil and turn in. Labels: advance warnings, bucks basketball, local music V'ron reported in at 8:59 PM 0 comments links to this post Saturday, March 29, 2008 Well at least the daffodils are coming up I need to whine.
On the bright side:
Labels: advance warnings, bucks basketball, local music, milwaukee art and culture, milwaukee sports V'ron reported in at 4:55 PM 0 comments links to this post Sunday, March 23, 2008 Very Nice Easter Ramblings You know, you can get all pissy about the weather, or you can take the ball and run with it, and that's exactly what my neighbors down the block did. Look at this thing! It looks like the Trojan Rabbit from "Monty Python and the Holy Grail." If you're going to have snow on Easter, this is the way to go. So here are some Easter ramblings, in no particular order:
Labels: bucks basketball, rants rambles and essays, shameless self promotion, stella sam brian family V'ron reported in at 7:59 PM 0 comments links to this post Wednesday, March 19, 2008 Well, there's always The Tournament I wrote this last year, but nobody really cares how the Bucks are playing these days because the Tournament is going on, and since they are pretty much stinking up the Bradley Center, we should be scouting the college talent for the great draft pick we should have a good chance at getting. Brian and I have the Badgers going to the Final Four in our pool, and we're pragmatic March Madness pool divers, so that should tell you something. Lots of "should" here tonight, I have to admit. As in, the Bucks should have won last night. They went into the 4th quarter up by something like 15 and I went to go take a whiz, and when I got back, they're down by 10. What the hey? We left. We couldn't take it any more. We get in the car and we're listening and they've caught back up, to be down by only 6, but it's less than a minute to go and, and, and, well, you know the story. At least we can have a sense of humor about this. These people pictured on State Street certainly do. But this is all starting to annoy me. The night started off innocuous enough. A rather madrigal version of the anthem was delivered by the Waukesha West High School Choir -- very complex arrangement that they pulled off, while retaining the drinking song roots of the song. At halftime, they re-dedicated Brian Winters' retired number and that was nice to see him, silver fox that he's become, back in Milwaukee, along with pictures of him playing in the old days. Then I turn around and there's Andrew Bogus, looking sharp enough in a sportscoat and hair grown out to a flattering cut (for once), but, what's this? Jeans on the court? I guess NBA Dress Code is getting relaxed. But they need to bring it back. Maybe not outlaw the jeans so much as put a pox on just plain old fashion faux pas. White loafers. With a matching white belt. That's pretty darn heinous, and don't be counting the days till the Indy 500, because those white loafers will continue to be heinous even after Memorial Day. How many times have I told him to have a few words with his stylis>. A few choice words. Jesus. Yes, I'm talking about all this crap because I just can't bear to talk about a game they should have won against a team with an even worse record than them. Cannning Larry Harris at least is a message that finally, finally, somebody is realizing that some kind of change has to happen, but I'm waiting to comment until I see what the alternative is. I've seen "change" before at the Bradley Center, same as it ever was. Boy, I'm really a bummer tonight? I'd better stop now. Easter's coming up, I've already broken in my bike so I'll be ready for my annual shakedown cruise, and the kids are off Friday and I have a half day of work. At least I have something to look forward to. Labels: bucks basketball V'ron reported in at 7:49 PM 0 comments links to this post Monday, March 17, 2008 Irish I had a....Chef Oh Jeez. I won't even go into that cliche to describe this weekend. The kids had the afternoon off on Friday, and Brian had some errands to run, so I did something I've never done before: I went to the Milwaukee Public Museum, letting Stella show me around. Why don't they just call this one what it is -- The Museum of Dioramas. Really, I felt like I'd been transported to a 3-D representation of my 5th grade Social Studies textbook. According to my peers, this place has changed very little since they were kids, and there's something to be said for that: it's nice to have some kind of museum baseline. We opted not to go to Body Worlds. I would have probably enjoyed it, but it would have been money wasted on Sammy, and Stella is hit or miss when it comes to things that she potentially might find gross. So instead we did "The Alps" at the IMAX -- a well-done documentary about this guy whose father died attempting a climb of the north face of the Aiger, and this guy's quest to "avenge" the mountain by climbing it himself. OK, I guess I don't "get" mountain climbing, because if I had watched my dad tumble to his death climbing a particularly ferocious route up the Aiger, I would probably have to conclude, "Well, I guess the lesson learned here is that maybe that's not a good way to climb the north face of the Aiger." Stella agreed. We're adventuresome, but pragmatic. There was a part in the movie where one of his companions ends up having too much of a hurt back , so instead of climbing back down, she gets airlifted down. Again, Stella and I thought that looked like fun. OK, OK, I admit it. We didn't get it. But the IMAX film was way cool anyway. Got the kids home, and then ventured out to the BBC to see three bands, 1956, Chief, and a young outfit called The Black Coats. They seemed well-named enough: as I trudged up the stairs I heard them deconstructing Johnny Cash, and afterwards turned out some seattle-sounding power tuned to match their flannel shirted stage presence. Between that annoying drainpipe pole smack in the middle of the stage and all the flannel, I felt like I was at some house party in the UWM Student Ghetto or something like that. Once again, a band that didn't even hang out to see the two bands that they shared a bill with. Is this what the kids are about these days? Oh well, their loss. Because the Call of the Chef was sounding -- Chief, whose name was horribly typoed in the paper, came out like gangbusters and served up the rock, as they are wont to do. I could go on, but why? Sixthstation readers know I'm a fan, and the crowd finally got it and thrashed along. They have this down pat, and the only critique I could give at this point is to continue to work on new material, because the challenge of this stuff is to keep it fresh. Still, they were unrelenting as usual, right down to Tishler smashing his guitar at the end. I had an epiphany during 1956's set-- I finally realized what makes them so good. It's not the complex rhythm or the good arrangements. Lots of bands have that and they're boring. No, they're hooky, and "hook-laden" isn't a term you usually associate with brooding, almost-prog bands like this. In fact, the hookieness is what saves them from being just another brooding, almost prog (but too hip to be fully prog) band. I like them because they are this cross between intelligent pop (which I hate because it's just a contradiction) and brooding emo (which i could live without), but they seem to have sucked the best of each and created their own genre. I find myself actually whistling their songs out loud, that's how hooky they are. Saturday was the Riverwest Co-op Benefit at Linneman's, and that was one mixed crowd, I'll tell ya. I got there just in time to see Highlonesome, a well-named band of countrified folkies led by Noah Tyson, who throws down a sincerity to his music. Tyson barely remembers me, but I knew him as a 3-year old, and there's things about him that haven't changed a bit: you always knew there was something going on behind those wide eyes, but you weren't quite sure what, and that's how I felt Saturday night. They were all good, but I think he's got more to give. Dr Chow was up next, and given that they're a rockin' band to begin with, they seemed to have unleashed a jones in this crowd that wanted to mosh. And so they did. I never pictured these guys in front of a mosh pit, but there they were. Spotted in the crowd, moshing to old hits like "Too Much to Dream" was Vince Bushell, not looking one bit out of place with the younger hippies. Closing out the night was 3/4ths of the 357 String band, and while they were good, you could tell something was missing, and it wasn't just the sound of the bass player, Rich Ness, whose injured finger prevented him from playing that night. It was later revealed that not only does he have this physically painful issue, but he's taking it on without health insurance, and that's fiscal pain. I kind of wished this was a benefit for him. It was announced that 10% of the concessions from the evening would go toward his fund, but uh, what's that going to get? A fresh pack of band--aids? If he's cut off the tip of his finger, this guy needs some serious cabbage to get this taken care of. I dropped some cash in the buckets being passed around, and I hope it helps. At least it was clear that this was a community that cared, and there's a lot to be said for that. After a long bike ride Sunday, I finally got my Irish on at McBob's, where I finally tasted and approved of the darn good corned beef I'd heard so much tell about. Plus, it was finally the place to shoot McTavish with Irish paraphernalia as a backdrop instead of some Jagermeister sign or something like that. Always a treat to see them, because they always evoke this barroom drinking and celebrating and commiserating spirit. They actually have fun doing this. Roni Allwaise from Guido's Racecar stopped up on stage for a few songs, but this was Paul Cotter and Mark Shurilla's show. Spotted in the audience: Jazz/Blues diva Deirdre Fellner, Marlavous Marla, and a few other musicians to boot. This was their third show in a row, but they seemed to be none the worse for wear, and it was a fine way to end a weekend. So, tonight, as I write this, the McTavishes are at JJ McAuliffe's in Racine, and Dr Chow is at O'Keefe's House of Hamburg, and I have to work tomorrow. So, I'll have a green beer, and hit the hay, and be ready to watch the Bucks tomorrow night, remembering that I had a brush with greatness today-- Yi Jianlian was right in front of me at the express lane at Pick N Save! He looked healthy, and maybe he'll start tomorrow. We'll see. Over and out. Labels: local music V'ron reported in at 9:19 PM 0 comments links to this post Wednesday, March 12, 2008 Get Yr Irish On So Stella and I are in the car, listening to the Boogie Bang on WMSE last weekend, and they were talking about current and upcoming events, and the pointed out one religious-based event where one could "get their church on." We couldn't stop laughing at the concept of gettin' one's church on: "Yo! Shout Out to God! Cos Jay-Z the C, You the It's just as incongrous as me, a polish-slovak eastern european mutt dealing with this whole St Patrick's Day weekend thang. So, in the spirit of my homies at the Boogie Bang, I hereby present you with a list of ways you can Get Your Irish On that features bands with people in them I know. There's no way this list is at all complete, and for those of you polacks like me, you'll note that not all have a completely Irish theme: Start Thursday night with McTavish and the Steel Bonnets. My bass player Miles is in both of them, but he doesn't play bass in either. He plays guitar and mandolin in both, and McTavish is the reason i even know the guy. Plus, he has the most Irish-sounding name out of the bunch (Miles' real name, his Christian name, whoops, his Catholic saint's name is Danny C Mullen) so there. However, Dan Smars is part of the Steel Bonnets, and he's the sweetest sounding Jim Morrison impersonator I know. Friday night: yeah, you could do McTavish again. Or you could go to the BBC and see some Rock. Chief is there, along with 1956 and some other band I honestly don't know a heckofalot about, but I trust the sensibilities of somebody who put Chief and 1956 together to bring in an appropriate third band. Regular readers know I'm one of Chief's biggest fans, and I'm a recent convert to the 1956 crew, so if i'm not exhausted, I'll be there. Saturday night, there's a benfit for the Riverwest Co-Op at Linnemans with Dr Chow's Love Medicine, and a couple of bands that have been on my "I really have to get out and see them" list -- the 357 String Band and Highlonesome. 357 String band, if they play, will be doing so with a handicap -- bass player Rich Ness apparently cut off the tip of his finger. Kinda makes it hard to play the bass, so we'll see how that comes out. Oh well, when that all heals Ness should remember that Jerry Garcia still made millions. If I wasn't there to cheer them on (as well as my DH), however, I'd be headin' over to County Clare for a sexy, sexy Saint Patrick's Weekend with the Five Card Studs. They tried this last year -- and County Clare canceled at the last minute for a more traditionally Irish act. This year, I think they're getting it right. Sunday night is another chance -- after you get your church on of course, to catch McTavish -- this time at McBob's. Miles says that McBob's has the best corned beef in town. Well, those of us who like to take lunch at Jake's might argue, but I'll give Miles this, McBob's probably has the best corned beef made by Irishmen. I have to work next week, and I still don't have the 10 years under my belt at The New Place to be able to stumble in hungover on Tuesday, so i won't be doing St Pat's day on the actual day itself. But if you have the need to put down a few more shots of Jameson's, Dr Chow will be at the House of Hamburg. I know that doesn't sound very Irish, but this is at O'Keefe's House of Hamburg, and that should be enough. You could get your Irish on first thing in the morning with Athas, which features sixthstation favorite Heather (from the Mighty Lumberhorn) on fiddle for "St Patrick's Breakfast" at the Trinity Irish Pub, especially if you want to be a purist about all this. And you can stay there until the evening, when you're all Irished out, and end the entire holiday with, once again, those ambassadors of leisurely entertainment, the Five Card Studs. Read that again: on St Patrick's Night, The Five Card Studs, at the Trinity Irish Pub. Maybe the Celts are starting to understand: after getting yr Irish on, maybe people just want to get it on, and that's what the Studs are all about. Labels: local music V'ron reported in at 8:37 PM 0 comments links to this post Sunday, March 09, 2008 There's something sticking in my eye. Oh well. It's a little late to gush about the Bucks' game last week that Brian and I witnessed -- especially since it was such a gush-worthy night:Bucks Win! Bucks Win! And the Bucks weren't the only winners Wednesday night. First off, we were in the right section such that when they ran the coffee cup race, our cup won. So i now have in my pocket a coupon for a free cup of organic coffee from Open Pantry. I have no clue where the closest Open Pantry is. (Wait, I have no clue where there's an Open Pantry anywhere in Milwaukee. Oh well.) Then, later in the night Brian and I made a brief appearance on the jumbotron, to our relief, NOT during anything like the "Kiss Cam" or whatever. Also, since the Bucks won triumphantly, my ticket was good for a Royale With Cheese Thursday, which I didn't use. And besides Charlie V having a good night, it was indeed a Royale With Cheese night -- Royal Ivey to be exact. Seems with a few injuries on the court, Ivey really stepped it up. But all good things must come to an end and Brian took Sammy to his first Bucks game "in the big stadium" today, and it was probably a good first game for SammyL his 4-year old attention span didn't last past halftime, and the way the Bucks were playing, neither was Brian's. Oh well. Despite all this, there was plenty of goodness in Milwaukee this weekend, at least musically. Friday night I took in the 2nd CD release show for Longacre, a country-tinged jam band with sweet-voiced Claire Chin on vocals. Time for another SUPER MASSIVE FULL DISCLOSURE STATEMENT: half the people in this band are coworkers at that new job I've been at for three weeks now. Two of 'em have input into my performance review. One of 'em runs the company. So there you go. At least you know my bias. OK, back to the review. Chin has a very unassuming stage presence. While she writes a majority of the material, and she's the lead singer, she's positioned at the side of the stage, standing behind her keyboards. Then she sings and that unassuming persona becomes authoritative and strong -- like she knows the songs themselves and her performance of them is good. Behind her is a team of crack musicians who drift in and out of their songs like a car drifting in and out of counties on a long road trip. That's the overall feel this band projects, like you're driving on the interstate in the midwest (but you've just left the metropolitan area.) They come in, establish a groove (and it's a very rhythmic groove, thanks to Damien Strigens -- who has a chordal musician's sensibilities -- on the drums) and then Chin comes in and wails a shoegazer's blues with a controlled soprano. Then they drift out of it. There's clearly a metropolitan base to it evidenced by elements of world music (the guy on bongos and other various percussion helps with that), but these people aren't afraid to let a little country feel in without sounding nu-country. Good sad melancholy stoner music. Like all music of this genre, they sometimes hit the danger of going on a little too long, but that's always going to be a risk when you're doing this stuff. Still, it works. I stayed for the whole set not to suck up to management, but because i did indeed enjoy it and will make it a point to see them again. I'd like to see them on a bill with the Aimless Blades, and, say, Juniper Tar. Anyway, however, music with titles like "Bad Day" kind of predicted the way the rest of the weekend was going to go. Saturday morning I dropped my camera and I'm going to have to send it in to get fixed. I think the time without my baby is going to hurt more than the ~$200 - $500 I'm bracing for a repair cost. (I looked in enough online forums -- to my relief my particular issue is common so i know it can be fixed.) So I was originally planning to hit that huge 8 band bill at Zad's Roadhouse and catch (speaking of) the Aimless Blades and their CD release. The Blades are working the same turf as Longacre, but with Blaine Schultz and Paul Setser around, you can bet on a little more Neil to be involved as well as a touch (!) more psychedelia. And I really like the new release, Rara Avis. For the Aimless Blades, it's actually upbeat. But be sure and read that entire previous sentence, for the Aimless Blades. The whole band is going into the same territory that Frank Black and the Catholics were going in the "Dog in the Sand" years. Still, Blaine's voice, sounding like a cross between his obvious heroes Dylan and Young (but actually tuneful) tops a pile of songs that frankly, I didn't want to see packed into the short set the Blades would have been forced to have on an eight-band bill. But, without a working camera, I knew I'd be ticked off watching this show without documenting it. Plus, I'd spent most of the evening having dinner with my girlfriends, an activity I don't get to do all that often, and that took priority. So instead I gave one of them a lift home, and as she lives in Riverwest, I popped into the Art Bar to see the Blackkholes morph into the Velvet Underground project, and also to give myself one last look at my artwork on the walls there (yes, vanity check....) before the Cream City Photogs show comes down this Wednesday. The 'holes were exhausted from a long show at UWM celebrating the life of Allen Ginsburg. You could tell -- even Mark Shurilla wasn't as animated as he usually is. Still, as ticked off about my camera as I was, it was good to sit and have a few with friends who i don't get to see as much as I'd like. Marlavous was being Nico (and she was saving the band) and Dan "Miles" Mullen had a few inspired moments (there was an almost surf version of Lou Reed happening at one point) but really, my own pissedoffedness was coloring the whole night and the Aimless Blades should be glad I didn't review them with this stick in my eye that I've got. Labels: bucks basketball, local music V'ron reported in at 9:01 PM 0 comments links to this post Monday, March 03, 2008 Wintertime Ikettes, Close Calls, and Primal Scream Therapy Saturday night proved what we all pretty much knew about the Bucks this season: they're not a bad team, but something is missing, and I'll let professional sports pundits analyze it to death, but I'll chime in with a bit of the emotional side. Maybe it's a good thing the Bucks passed on trading anybody before the deadline. Maybe it was a message to the team, "Look, you're all still here, like it or not. You're all still on this team. Now play like it." And so they did Saturday night, a game that talk radio guys admitted "Look, you didn't expect them to win at all did you? So the fact that they only lost by 2 shouldn't really be that upsetting." When you think of it that way, well, yeah, I guess not. But why didn't this go into overtime? Because Michael Redd missed not one, but both his free throw shots. Yeah, it shouldn't have come down to this, but Brian and I are a little down on Redd, and when it's the game tying throw and you're paying Redd as much as he gets, he needs to hit crucial free throws in the clutch. Oh well. Still, it was a fairly electric night at the Bradley Center. Smelling a possible win against, the Rim Rockers come out and put on a spectacular show during one of the last timeouts -- better than I've seen them all season. Energee turned in one of their best routines yet: to the tune of a latter day Tina Turner live version of "Proud Mary", the girls come out in 60's shimmy-style dresses and heels that, while not in Tina's league, still forced the Energee girls to dance with that almost bowlegged style that Turner trademarked. It was like there was a whole army of Ikettes, all rollin' on the river and doo-DOO do-do-do DOO do-do-do -ing it up. Bravo, girls! Excellent referential treatment and routine -- let's see more of this and less of that nondescript pole dancing wanna be stuff you've been obviously pressured by the NBA to be doing. I really don't want to discuss the anthem. It was by some fan who somehow managed to be allowed to do this. I get the impression that she's probably a darn good singer -- she had a good voice. But you could tell she hadn't done this sort of thing in front of this large an audience before because the poor woman's face said it all: She was excreting perfectly formed bricks. This resulted in an overall (as Simon would say) pitchy rendition, which was a shame, because I bet she normally can bring it at her church choir. I kind of wanted to sing along with her, hoping the rest of the crowd would too, and bail her out, but nobody else was singing along. While the anthem is not supposed to be sung flat, good ol barroom caberet almost doesn't sound right if it isn't flat, and Eat the Mystery got the job done at Linneman's after the game. They were part of an evening long benefit show, and they were theatrical and terrific as usual. Angie Livermore was especially melancholy and incredible, and I learned later that she'd had a particularly toughass week. But this speaks to the artist that she is: Lesser people would have let this destroy a show. Rather, Livermore took every ounce of bad juju she had to put up with this week, poured it into her art, and squeezed out a brutally brilliant performance. "How many people out there have ever been f*&(^ed over?" she bellowed, as the crowd hollered back in communal agreement. Three people were chosen to voice their renditions of just how bad they'd been screwed, with a winner chosen after Angie and her crew staggered across "Stagger Lee." The winner of course, was the woman whose primal scream was genuinely thereapeutic. It was just what the doctor ordered. Labels: bucks basketball, local music V'ron reported in at 9:25 PM 0 comments links to this post Thursday, February 28, 2008 The Power of The Surf Nothing, I say nothing, cures the winter blues like instrumental surf, that's what I say. I can't remember if it was Transistor Royale's Eric Knitter or Jonny Z, but I ran into both of them after their terrific set at Vnuk's last night, and like everybody else in the midwest, we spent a couple of minutes to kvetch about this weather, and pointed out that having surf music in the car has been a soul saving experience. It just warms a body up. And that's how I felt strolling into the (yet another) criminally empty room at Vnuk's for a fabulous triple bill of American music: up and coming surfmeisters Transistor Royale, the fabulous Bobby Rivera and the Rivieras, and Vancouver's Big John Bates the the Voodoo Dollz. Within two songs of Transistor Royale's set i felt a warm breeze come over me. They were terrific, and Jonny Z's radio background translates nicely to the stage, where he just as well could have emcee'd the evening. He's doing well on guitar as well. There was one point in the set where they stumbled and got a little lost, but they made up for it, and I'm chalking that up to the Second Gig Ever curse. (You know how that goes. First Gig Ever kicks major dupah. Everybody raves. Band gets over opening night jitters and doesn't approach Second Gig as carefully. They learn a lesson and go on to rock at Third Gig.) Up next on this chilly Wednesday night is Bobby Rivera, who I expected a full surf set from, but his Rivieras have grown to include a new female singer named Paula, whose last name I will have to get later. She strolls on stage quite unassumingly, and is almost awkward strapping on her acoustic guitar, but then she opens her mouth to sing and it's this combination of Janis Joplin's phrasing with Etta James' clear voice, run through a country blues sensibility. So while I was in the mood for the inland surf that Rivera delivers, I was quite impressed and happy with this new addition. She did add to the surf songs, or else sat out. And I think I've mentioned this before, but the whole band approaches the surf genre with a combination of country and jazz, which makes it a compelling listen. I'm a fan. As regular readers of this blog know, I just got a new job, so I'm not at the point where I can stroll into work all strung out, going, "Oh maaaaan, I went and saw this band last night and I'm massively strung out maaaaannnn." So I had to keep it an early night, which prevented me from catching the entire set of Big John Bates and the Voodoo Dollz, but actually, they weren't a band for a Wednesday night anyway. So after five or so songs, I had to turn it in, and here's my take: Big John Bates has a voice and a musical bent very much like The Reverend Horton Heat. The schtick here is psychobilly with an added touch of horrorshow burlesque. Every couple of songs feature these two fabulous old school burlesque stripper chicks who do a costume change for each song they're featured on. (Favorite was the pasties with flaming wicks hanging off them). Bass player Caroline Helmeczi is a sight to behold herself, and frankly, she's the musically compelling one in this band. Big John Bates, who had the misfortune of having to follow Bobby Rivera's virtuosity, thusly didn't blow me away. Oh, he was good, yes, but I think the appeal of this act is the whole package: the dancing girls, the smoke machine, the red lights, the "We're having a birthday party for Elvira" vibe. And since Bates vocally sounds like the Reverend (both tonally and thematically -- all the songs are about drinkin' and havin' sex and goin' to hell because of it!) I found myself comparing his guitar chops to the Reverend's -- and few guitar players survive that comparison. Still, they were fun, and if I didn't have a clock ticking, I would have enjoyed the entire set, I'm sure. ~~~~~~~ Follow up on Beautiful Bert: email from Buzz, the garage rock DJ (Fridays, noon to 3 on WMSE 91.6). Buzz will be doing an on-air tribute to Bert (well, the stuff he possibly COULD put on air without jeopardizing 'MSE's FCC license) and Buzz just passed on what he found: Beautiful Bert Memorial @ The Den Again This Saturday No, I didn't bother editing for grammar and spelling, and neither did Buzz. That would have been so anti-punk. Labels: local music, national music V'ron reported in at 10:13 PM 1 comments links to this post Sunday, February 24, 2008 Beautiful Bert: Rest In Peace The bulletin on myspace from the BB Slags, Beautiful Bert's latest band, was basic enough: "Beautiful Bert found dead today." The message went on to say that the BB Slags are no more and that he would be missed. A few phone calls later and a few more myspace bulletins, and yes, it's not some kind of awful joke. It's true. The King of KenoCore is gone. I don't know the details yet, and I'm not sure I want/need to. Oh, how does one begin to write an obit about a guy who she first saw at Trash Fest some 15 years ago, unscheduled, walking into Club Garibaldi seeking out Voot Warnings (then the ringmaster) and saying, with all earnestness, "Hi. I'm Beautiful Bert and this is my band, the Crotch Crickets. We would like to know if we could play your Trash Fest." "Are you ready to play NOW?" Voot asked. "Shore 'nuff." And Voot motioned to the stage, they plugged in and within five minutes, a crowd that had thought they'd seen everything admitted that maybe not as every mouth in the room dropped to the floor. Within 10 minutes, Bert had dropped trou, and was proceeding to do things with a salami that Old Man Usinger had never envisioned. But that's not what I hope everybody remembers about Bert, because as I have written and written and written about him, if you took away the salami (and other objects he ostensibly put up his butt -- get real, they only made it past the crack), if he lost 200 pounds, if he didn't TRY to be gross, you would still be left with a master punk showman, a commanding stage presence, and one of the best, tightest, hands down ass-kicking hardcore punk bands it was ever my pleasure to mosh to in the Great Lakes area. Off stage, Bert was a good guy with a heart of gold. Yes, he could be a dick sometimes, but he wasn't the first person whose stage persona bled into his real life. And I've never met an entertainer who wasn't a dick sometimes. But really, Bert could actually be sweet. And as proof of that, know that not only did he influence a whole scene of great punksters in SE Wisconsin, but he was downright loved by that scene. I know of two bands that wrote songs about Beautiful Bert, and I'm sure there's more. I would venture to guess there's a lot of people who picked up guitars because of Beautiful Bert. (What they did with them after they picked them up is a different story, I'm sure.) As word spreads, there will be a lot of people who will be at first, taken aback, and then admit they're not surprised. Bert lived hard and played hard, but he won't be forgotten. I've always believed that a person's life is defined by the stories he left, and Bert left enough stories for all of us to tell for many years to come. We'll laugh over many of the stories, and in his passing, we'll tell them with a note of sadness. And maybe we'll wonder in our own minds if some of those laughs were at his expense. We'll wonder if he knew how much he was appreciated. We'll wonder if he realized that after the initial shock, we all knew he was a great punk artist, going down as we suspect all great punks do. Rest in peace, Bert. You will indeed be missed, but certainly not forgotten, and to a punk musician, that's the finest eulogy I can give. Labels: local music V'ron reported in at 8:47 PM 2 comments links to this post A Midwinter's Weekend Ramble With Stella
Labels: bucks basketball, stella sam brian family V'ron reported in at 7:56 PM 0 comments links to this post Thursday, February 21, 2008 Salty, icy, ramblings A few random ramblings:
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