Groupthink, the Mohawk Place, and a New Start-up Mentality

A lot of sentiment has gone into writing about the Mohawk Place closing-- but this piece isn't about sentiment. It isn't about two or three 'epic' stories they somehow end up circling back to me: how my band played there, how I saw indie microcelebs there, or got shit-faced drunk and made an ass out of myself.

This isn't about placing myself in the pantheon of Mohawk legends past-- its about the future.

In a town that seems self-obsessed with its own history-- writing about the future will come as shocking, or even offensive to some. Mohawk Place, especially most recently, is part-and-parcel with Buffalo's backward-looking mentality.

The bar is an extension of the greater music culture in Buffalo. Taking a deep dive into the local papers, blogs, and band websites will fill your head with a laundry list of rock-and-roll namechecking and a retelling of the gospel of rock and roll. Of course local musicians, scenesters, and music bloggers should embrace the past-- but many of them use it as an exclusionary device, making their tent smaller and filling it with the familiar and the non-challenging.

Grumblings within the music community have persisted throughout the years over this orthodox groupthink that derides nonconformists as outsiders-- regardless of their creative output or approach. In fact, several bands that saw themselves as reactions to this local groupthink found success outside the area, including the Tyrades and Bloody Hollies.

Many of these same critical musicians cite Mohawk Place as ground zero for the rock-and-roll orthodoxy that holds sway over the Buffalo music scene. Critics say their exclusionary local booking policy rewards unoriginality-- picking winners and losers based on adherence to a strict doctrine.

For this reason, the closing of the old bar could be seen not as a tragedy, but as opportunity. Shaking off the shackles of a static infrastructure could shift the emphasis away from groupthink and towards meritocracy. New venues will have the opportunity to establish themselves based on the ability to curate an aesthetic and musical talent on a nightly basis.

Buffalo needs to embrace a start-up mentality-- one that rewards effort and creativity. The local scene needs to become an incubator for good ideas, regardless of where the come from: classic rock, indie, punk, dance, hip-hop...

Closing the doors at 47 East Mohawk Street could just be the first step towards changing a conservative culture that has yet to bring results.

Mohawk Place: Honest and Raw

Waxing nostalgic is lame. But, sometimes when it has to be done, it has to be done. There's no denying that a music venue such as the Mohawk Place has earned it's share of nostalgia and revelry. It served as the staple rock bar for it's 20+ year run in downtown Buffalo, a place that seemed less than likely to host any kind of night life seeing how sadly Buffalo's populace diminished over the same 20+ year period.

Mohawk Place could be seen as a last strong hold in this instance. Seeing it close its doors effective January 13th, 2013 is a sad thing, but in some ways, it was inevitable. The management had "lost it's lust for life", so to speak and the relatively unknown and lack luster newer owner was an absentee sort, unlike the original Pete Perrone, who relinquished control in late 2008 as the task of owning a deteriorating building that happened to host some of the most amazing music in the world was too tall an order for his health and livelihood. Pete's departure left a bit of a hole in the venue, with booking & management changes and oversight of the calendar falling into the hands of people who were not as eager to see a local scene prosper, as much as they were into cashing in on having a small room to use for their mainstream fodder. From an outsider perspective, Mohawk Place was business as usual. But for us insiders or people that knew people that worked there, we knew the truth. It was bleeding internally and on life support.

Sadly, Mohawk Place declined into a state sadder than a clown with a broken kazoo. The venue that once was a lively and fun hot spot, full of rock and roll and weirdos became another "space" for whatever kind of bullshit was happening that night. If it was a "ska" night, than it was a bunch of goofballs wearing two-tone and acting righteous. If it was a "Transmission" dance party, well, than indie rock nerds reveled in their own delight as the hipster parade ensued. The truth is though, regardless of the "clique" taking over the venue that night, it was nice that people still got together at the Mohawk and got wasted, regardless of their taste (or lack thereof.) The loss of it will certainly disenfranchise more than a few local scenes and cliques.

A healthy local music scene did evolve from it, some of the better bands decided even to start a label, which was insular and self-serving, but at the same time, it gave the appearance that at least there was something going on. Other local bands became ambassadors for rock at the Mohawk Place, so to speak, inviting out of town and even more obscure national acts to grace the sticky, dank stage and perhaps even garner a humble crowd. This is the purpose of a small bar with a stage. Sharing some spirits, leveling the field, making a venue for art. Mohawk Place served many a purpose in this regard.

The truth is that the Mohawk Place's raw nature was unwieldy and to some it was uninviting. I spent many a night there, listening to people's initial response and sometimes it was "this place is soooo cool!" and other times it was simply "Eeewww, there's a rat in the toilet!" Either response those was music to my ears. I love when a venue is definitive and immediate. I love when you feel something right away and take a side. Too many environments serve as mediums, venues that are amorphous to a fault. Mohawk was not, it was always a raw, broken down beast, that you either learned to either love or hate. But you made a decision and that was what mattered in the end.

A lot of people waxing nostalgia will claim to have the inside angle on why it's closing, just like I kind of did. But regardless of why, the sad truth is that it is closing. Is it because you, dear reader, did not go there, except for that one time 10 years ago to see that hip band that AV said was the next "Jesus and Mary Chain"? Did your lack of attendance over the past decade matter? It probably did, but hey, you can still youtube clips of your favorite bands performing there and vicariously (and more comfortably) enjoy it, time and again.

 - Vic Lazar

Centipede Hz, the final nail in the hipster coffin (You're Welcome)

Animal Collective previewed their Merriweather Post Pavilion follow up, Centipede Hz, this week, leading to the inevitable high praise and subsequent backlash. Some people think the band is an over-hyped, blog driven, Pitchfork-anointed paper tiger, while others see them as the most important band in music right now.

But let's put all that aside...

Pitchofork's People's List also came out this week, and while it simply confirmed Pitchfork's status as an amplifier of the hype-feedback loop-- it served as a reminder of the different phases underground rock has gone through. From Radiohead and the Flaming Lips' art pop, to Bon Iver and Jeff Tweedy's singer/songwriterisms, to LCD and the xx's post-electronica-- underground music has shifted forms and spun off sub-genres like it had long before the music industry's premier tastemaker came into being.

The List also had This Is It by the Strokes as the fifth best album in the past 15 years. Love em or hate em the Strokes ushered in hipster swagger better than any other band. Skinny jeans, trucker hats, and "irony" were the order of the day. To their credit, hipsters also brought a sense of purpose and community to a post-9/11 NYC that certain sections of Brooklyn picked up and ran with.

However, not long after Brooklyn became the most important borough in the world, hipsters became a self-parody that no one wanted to identify with. Seminal NYC hipster bands like the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and the Rapture looked to distance themselves from the scene and began openly talking about embracing a child-like and sincere sense of earnestness-- the kryptonite to irony's cynical, faux-hawked Supermen (and Supergirls).

Thus began the long road out of Hipster Town. The YYYs album Show Your Bones came out in 2006 in an attempt to put sincerity over cynicism. That same year fellow Brooklynites TV on the Radio put out Return to Cookie Mountain, a record that heavily referenced the very un-hip and earnest Peter Gabriel.

But laments over hipster culture justifiably persisted for years with many bands, like Liars, tempering their NYC cool with Berlin MNMLism. Zombie hipsters rose from the grave so many times-- they now have their own meme.

Which brings us to Centipede Hz. Yes, Animal Collective had to follow up MPP with something weird. To be taken seriously as the artists they want us to believe they are, a trip back to the drawing board was in order. But something funny happened along the way, AnCo always had that child-like wonder from their earlier albums. As their confidence, prowess and ambition grew, that innocence and earnestness morphed into different forms, but remained central to their sound.

MPP gave the band a pop legitimacy to make a statement with their next record and they did. What that statement was.... well I'll get back to you on that. I'm guessing it has something to do with a post-world-music mentality filtered through an organic jam session, but that's beside my point.

Centipede Hz has one significant side effect. The respect, both critically and commercially, that the band has earned has allowed them to make a record that is well respected, cool, weird, and absolutely un-hip. Just try rocking out to the album's first single, Today's Supernatural, and its hectic jig in a pair of tight jeans with a PBR in the air.

All that being said, we can now officially call it-- at 2:51 PM EST August the 23, 2012: the hipster is deceased. You're welcome.

Idol Threats: a review of a battle of the bands from the perspective of a Guest Judge

by Rudy Sizzle

Something told me that I was not from around here. I drove up towards the "Hard Rock Cafe" in downtown Niagara Falls, NY and felt like I took a wrong turn into a nightmare I had about once accidentally driving into a building and then realizing I was doomed to actually drive off of Niagara Falls and never be seen again. I recall the dream quite vividly. Me, my sweet little "Stella" (a 2008 Pontiac Vibe) going over the great Wonder of the World, disappearing into the mist at the bottom forever. When I awoke, I am pretty sure I had almost pissed myself. Sometimes drinking too much water before bed and watching movies about drowning will do that to you.

Why do I not dabble in some "guilty pleasures" audibly speaking? Like, what's so terrible about "Ke$ha" and why am I too good to find "Maroon 5" awesome? Well, it's because I am a musician and I have standards. I cannot “settle in and saddle up” for a joy ride with the likes of Miley and Adele. Sure, they are gems in their own minds and the world’s rewarding them with success they totally and undoubtedly worked very hard for.

Perhaps our culture has stalled out and stuck in "mediocre" gear. I am not sure if Triple A is coming to give us a jump any time soon either. The Battle of the Bands I was invited to be a guest judge at in Niagara Falls, NY on Thursday February 16th did not dissuade me from feeling hopeless about the future dirge of mediocrity in the local scene. Plus it made me realize that the term "Hard Rock" is totally strange and perhaps more meant to mean, "Pretty loud," or "Kinda loud." Or I have no idea what "Hard Rock really means," just order some food and buy some rock n' roll memorabilia already…

First off, I was invited by the opening band of this quadruple band battle, the Screaming Jeans. I need to fully disclose this: they invited me as they seem to dig my music and respect my opinion. I think it may also because none of their other friends were willing to take the trip as it was a Thursday in February and it was kind of a weird scene to end up in.

Regardless, I got fed lots of booze and could've eaten some of HRC's finest cuisine, if I so felt inclined. I did not know this ahead of time though, so I was only indulging on free booze. It was cool to sit at high tables amongst the other "judges" of the battle. I felt like I was given a secret word to enter the VIP room on a cruise ship or the back room at a bar where the good drugs and weird sex is happening. But really, it just meant that I was stuck to endure a night of relatively tame music.

The Screaming Jeans kicked off the battle and were initially thrown off by some weird sound-related issues. The sound person seemed disinterested in this event, plus I am not sure if he knew exactly what was going on. I assume he was the regular engineer for the venue, but maybe he was the back up. Regardless, SJ sounded a bit off their normal well balanced mark right out of the gates and it threw their live energy out of whack. It was odd watching them seem a bit more self conscious about their live stage levels than usual, I am pretty sure the crowd may have noticed it, but regardless, the band pulled off their trademark brand of catchy guitar pop a la the Pixies/The Strokes well enough to earn applause and props from the other fellow judges on the panel sitting next to me. I would have chosen them to win, not just because I like them as people and a band, but because they were really the only "authentic" sounding band that night.

Up next were Google-proof rockers The Path. From their name, it was clear they were "straight shooting," normal rock. Parental Rock. Really something that would go well with a shot of Jack and a Bud. You know, not so much rock as it is-- roll me into a fire and let me stoke a bit. It was pretty much like being hit with a wet and muddy sock in the face while playing Tetris on a Gameboy, while camping with your asshole significant other to make them happy on their birthday.

I can’t say that The Path was totally terrible. As far being a band, they evidently had a "style" and "sound". All black outfits, with a relatively friendly and portly lady singer with a 5 or 6 note vocal range belting out very awkwardly juvenile lyrics about things that seemed vague enough to pen on the inside of a box of "get well" or "thinking of you" cards.

At times, the image of Jerri Blank from Strangers with Candy came to mind, which instantly made watching the Path kind of funnier than it should have been. I felt like a jerk thinking this, but it was a necessity to get through their snooze fest of a set-- middle of the road tunes all the way. The crowd was nonplussed too, mostly their brood of local support hooting and occasionally hollering for them when one of their banal riff-laced bluesy rock jams climaxed and then fell back into a blustery mid tempo groove. They felt stiff and aside from the bassist’s sweet black beret, they were as normal as one can imagine a band named the Path can get.

Thirdly was a band that was called The Eric Van Houten Band. The fellow "guest" judge sitting to my right was apparently invited by Eric Van Houten himself as they were once band mates. He had a lot of nice things to say about his former mate, stating that he was "doing his own thing now" and he pledged his support like any good friend would. It was nice, I really hoped for something to catch onto, perhaps this would be a surprise and we'd both share a beer while Eric's band tore it up. But alas, Eric Van Houten and band were a mish-mash of bland radio friendly, teen drama ready, Cheese Whiz 101. It could not have been any clearer to me at this moment that something is wrong with American pop culture once they started in on their last few tunes of the night, referencing "Jesus" and evoking the term "Country" as if it were a buzz word to get more oxygen pumped into the room so that nobody would suffocate.

The musicianship of the EVH band was standard issue with Eric singing his heart out like a karaoke contest winner and his female counterpart lead singer (who looked like she was wearing an outfit that would've been part of a color guard or elementary school jazz dance recital) belting out off key and out of tempo phrases. The "lead" guitarist soloed in every song, sometimes twice.

The drummer looked Randy "Macho Man" Savage (which was awesome), managing to hold down the fort, while the teenage bassist seemed to be having a blast showing off his newly honed skills on his 5 string bass, sometimes making the rhythm of a song seem more interesting than it really was. They were bland, but people seemed to be there in numbers to see them, so perhaps I am totally missing something here. Or perhaps I did not drink the Kool Aid.

Closing out the night was Whiskey Reverb. Having played a show with them a while back, I had an idea as to what to expect and knew they stood a chance of winning this thing. Not because they are technically "good", but because they are totally into their band. They love it. Probably like a mom loves their new born infant. They coddle it, coo it, breast feed it and even love to change it's diapers. It's kind of a weird thing to see a band be so into being a band, but it also makes me like them. Not for the music, but for their devotion to themselves.

I have never been able to do that. I stew in self defeat and constantly feel like I am wasting my time with my bands and music. These dudes are totally the opposite. They take all of their influences and blend them into a weird funky sound. It's like 311, Incubus, Staind & Red Hot Chili Peppers, all getting together to play hide and seek in weird enchanted forest filled with psychedelic mushrooms and cough syrup waterfalls.

It's weird to think that this may be the next level of what I used to affectionately call "Rapcore" or "NuMetal", but alas, it may very well be. The audience they brought out seemed to love them, with people performing back flips in front of us at the judging station and even a quasi dance party happening in front of the stage. It was sad to behold, since it was really 20 people they knew giving it their all to show that they too loved Whiskey Reverb like it was their own baby to be swaddled and rocked gently to sleep.

I was on my 5th drink at this point, totally feeling good and not really paying as much attention to Whiskey Reverb's musical performance as I was the cute girls they brought out with them and also how weird the "rapper" in the band looked, reminding me of Lil' Kev from Always Sunny in Philadelphia. And just like the ending of that episode, Lil' Kev got the last laugh and thus Whiskey Reverb won the battle. I was not surprised in the least. At least they love their band more than Jesus.

Handsome Jack Unleash Super Moon

On a cool, fall Saturday night the flannel-clad descended upon the western edge of Allen Street to celebrate the latest release by local hard rockers Handsome Jack. The crowd spilled out of Nietzsche’s and onto the sidewalk in anticipation of hearing songs from the band’s fourth proper studio album, Super Moon.

Sitting next to the merch table, just a few feet and a few hours from where his band will take the stage, guitarist and lead singer Jamison Passiute leans back and says the band had an extremely simplistic approach to the new record.

“We basically listened to what we did in the past, heard things we don’t like, and kinda go in the opposite direction.”

Over the past year the band scraped together money for Super Moon by playing in a multitude of different bars throughout Western New York. Some of those included long hours and late nights doing 3-hour stints at Gonzo’s in Lockport “just to make some money.” Passuite explains the band would do what it could to earn enough money to pay for recording and pressing the album.

“We even played a birthday party for some guy we didn’t even know cause they paid us 400 bucks just to do it.”

After a stripped-down, drummer-less set by fellow classic rockers Johnny Nobody and indie atmospherics by the Mourdant Sisters, Handsome Jack takes the stage around midnight to a packed-in back room of Nietzsche’s, buzzing with anticipation. The group quickly settles into their somewhere-between-mid-and-slow-tempo bluesy groove.

***

Holed up at Matt Smith’s HI/LO Recording in Eden, NY the band recorded the majority of the music in just two days. After a few overdubs, some re-recording and mixing, Super Moon was completed in just less than three months. Inspirations varied from song to song but are all “rooted in the same feel” said Passiute.

While the title Super Moon could easily be mistaken for a pagan reference, the album, with its down-home lyrical affirmations, feels like a template for what they could be playing at packed-full mega churches instead of the typical Christian rock and reworked hymns. On “Time will tell”, Passuite sings “I know there’s a good life that’s out there in the sun/ It’s not too far to see.”

On stage, the band belts out the new songs with the conviction of a Sunday preacher, inspiring more than a few sweaty dancers. The group maintains a rhythmic slow burn as Passuite and bass player Joe Verdonselli wring every note from their instruments. It’s now in the early hours of Sunday morning, and Handsome Jack is working hard to conjure up a catharsis-- just a few yards from the First Presbyterian Church quietly sitting down the street.

Music Is Art, kind of.

a Rudy Sizzle review

Would an artist who has work within the paragon that is the Albright Knox Museum cringe at some of the sights and sounds of the Music is Art Festival? Would he or she be disgusted by the over-priced and sub par vendors and crafts being filched as cuisine and artistry?

I cannot imagine Renoir being inspired by a bloated belly dance troop from Williamsville sloppily traipsing through the courtyard of the Museum façade and I am pretty sure Mozart would gladly toss crab apples at the generic, blustery hoopla that sprung forth from the backline of amps of the usual suspects at this years MIA fest. Sadly, art is not being yielded at this event, but rather the mirrored image of a banal culture and its slovenly patrons. Does this seem to be a concern to the masses that get drawn to this event (for the 6^th year now)? Would the suburbanites who show up in droves care if the music was higher browed and perhaps the vendors were of higher standard?

Being that as it may, people still enjoyed themselves. Perhaps the event should be called “Music and overpriced food is fun for most people,” or “Music is art, kind of.” I get the feeling that the average MIA audience member is friends with someone in a band (you know the type: you went to see them play at 3pm, bought a hot dog, drank some beer, did not watch any other stage, did not even know there was a side stage around the corner, or did not know any of the other bands, so therefore they probably suck.) Chances are you saw your friends play and thought they should’ve played longer, since it is strictly 3 songs per act, but hey you don’t make the rules. The rules are pretty straight-forward. Most bands think they can sneak in a 4^th, perhaps even 5^th tune. I mean, c’mon, Robby likes us more than the other bands. He totally gave us the sweet slot because he loves you man.

I honestly think Robby’s intentions are relatively good, I just think he has bad taste. There is no accounting for this in today’s day & age though, especially when people are herded like cattle and given the scraps to chew on. I guess I should not look the gift horse in the mouth since Robby is supporting the local community with this event. It just seems that there are so many amazing artists not being represented. It seems that it is always the same line up, with a few variations to keep it seemingly “fresh.” But that being said I pretty am sure if my band spent a ton of our hard earned cash in Robby’s beauty of a studio, I’d expect to be put on his showcase too.

inTheirWords: The StayLows on The Signature Bridge

This spring, local indie rockers The Stay Lows dropped their latest full length album, The Signature Bridge. As some reviews of the album are already out, silo3 met up with the band in order to break it down-- track-by-track, "director's commentary" style. In the process, the band delved into how the songs were written, the concepts behind them, and most importantly which one is JP Losman's favorite.

The Stay Lows are:

Jim Schiffert-Guitar,Bass,Vox
Eric Kendall - Guitar
Rick Wright - Cello
Brandon Delmont - Drums
Jeff Delmerico - Bass, Keys

1) Burning None
"What's kind of weird is-- and it's the same thing with the last album-- the order we have been writing them, is how they've been ending up on the albums too. I don't know if that means anything, but that's where we started and the songs progress as we progressed going through it. So if somebody has it on 'shuffle'-- don't." (RW)
---
"It's a great intro to what we were trying to accomplish, by releasing the four songs we had written previously and then bridging into the newer stuff." (RW)

2)Business of Taking Care
"That song, more that the rest of them, evolved during the mixing." (JS)
---
"That's probably one of the first songs where we wanted the vocals to be prevalent in writing (the song) at least." (EK)
"Actually, more of the new stuff is 50/50 right now, if not weighted more toward the vocal side." (JS)
"Yeah, our next album is going to be doo-wop" (BD)

3)They Smoked the Moonlanding
"I really like the concept of industrial-in-motion. When we started the electronic drum beats on there and in some of the other parts, it just started morphing. We had a couple of themes going into the album and post-album a couple more came out." (RW)
--
"That was also JP Losman's favorite song-- he told us." (RW)

"At a Califone show. We opened for Califone and he was there." (EK)

"He came up to us after the set and said he liked us. We had a demo of 'Moonlanding' up (online) and he's like, 'Yeah, it's on my pump-up tape.' " (JS)

4)Are You Guys Pilots?
“That’s actually my favorite song. I guess playing it on drums, it’s cool, you get the best of both worlds. You have a groovy, I don’t want to say dance-y or whatever, but it has a feeling to it more than just like-- rock. Then it kind of goes into, a rock thing. But I don’t know it’s just a really good song.” (BD)

5)Haunted Mouse
“Haunted Mouse was the one song written in that weird practice space on Main St.” (RW)

“We would just heard these two bands that were really loud (all the time).” (BD)

“It was the quietest song we wrote ‘til it progresses…” (RW)

“...until the guitar part then we’re like ‘All right, we have to be louder than the other bands in the space and this is what we’re writing right now.’ “ (JS)

6)Back of the Face
“When we were recording, and we got to that final part, things started just adding on, and adding on-- that’s when I started kind of getting excited about it. Because, there’s a lot of stuff going on and it was just crescendo-ing very nicely.” (RW)
---
“I always thought (the song) was hysterical… We played with this band Dungen, from Sweden, and the dude from that band came up to us and said (in a Swedish accent)‘That song you did was beautiful-- that dun-ga-dun-ga-da dun-ga-dun-ga-da.’ It was great.” (BD)

7)To Evil (Waltz)
“I came up with the original thing at home and I had just started playing with them. I went out on a limb and showed these guys (the song). They took it and turned it into what it is. But it was a totally new idea for me to be in a band where people listened to me.” (BD)

“And that was the last time that ever happened…” (JS)

8)Ugly Babies
“When we play live, we’re a loud band. We’re not deafeningly loud, but we’re up there on the decibel level, and when we were writing that song, I wanted something that took take advantage of the fact that we play loud.” (JS)

“Yeah people nod their heads. People tap their toes…” (RW)

“I don’t really understand why it works, but it seems to.” (JS)

9) The Pastoral
“What I like about that song-- it has such a great sad, tinge-y melody. But then there’s the comedic part, the 70’s cop part, and this is probably very Stay Lows, is to take a really nice, beautiful piece of music and then lob it between comic, you know, cop parts and stuff.” (BD)
---
“That song's a good closer.” (EK)

“Yeah, its kind of like when Hercules walks off on the path, but with that like ‘To be continued…’ ” (RW)

METAL DETECTOR: SHAMROCK SHAKES

the METAL DETECTOR

with Al Wreckless

As every metal fan knows, metal is not just a musical style; it’s a way of life. And it takes commitment. To truly be metal, at least 83% of your world must be classified as metal. Unfortunately, in the modern climate of the world, lines between reality and fiction are blurred more than ever. It’s getting harder and harder to determine what is truly metal. That’s why you need THE METAL DETECTOR.

Today, we take a look at seasonal McDonald’s beverage offering, the Shamrock Shake. This milkshake is a celebration of all things Irish, from its green color to former mascot Uncle O’Grimacey. Primordial would approve. The treat is only available for a limited time each year, which makes you savor each experience as it may be the last one you taste for a while. Guns N’ Roses would approve. Though Axl’s output hasn’t been as consistent as Mickey D’s, so maybe we shouldn’t put too much stock into his opinion.

On the other hand, as with pretty much everything else McDonald’s offers, it leads to the abuse of cows, as they are pumped full of hormones, have the milk sucked dry out of them, then turned over to the slaughterhouse where they become Big Macs. Rise Against would disapprove. But Carnivore would approve. So let’s call that one a wash.

Honestly, Shamrock Shakes aren’t all that metal. But they are delicious, which bumps them up a few points to a score of 5.5 Manowars.

Infringement Fundraiser / Chili Cookoff@ Nobody’s 1/30/2009

Performance Art in a Vacuum

a Rudy Sizzle review

Hello. What? Art is expression? Sure. I guess if you want to express yourself, you are entitled to do so in any way you see fit. The more you attempt to explain yourself though, the less the definition sticks, so just let your freak flag blow freely in the wind and have no concern as to what intellectual jerks and scornful sour pusses might take away from your zeal and eccentricities as you wiggle into your hipster clown suit and bang away on your Microkorg on a dirty basement floor. REMEMBER GRASSHOPPER: It is crucial to remain vigilant to ones own Id, appearing unscathed by the criticisms of anyone. You can transcend judgment by being the lightning rod that sets fire to that barn full of gas tanks. We’ve all been scrutinized by someone, there is always a pair of eyes attached to a nasty brain waiting to slice us up & cut us down to the size with a diatribe of venomous slander and opinions as far as the eye can see. No one is impervious to this; it’s just how thick your skin gets that makes the difference in the long run. You need to see yourself as a warrior and the battle is that stage, floor, whatever.

I am convinced that the above is a thesis for some lunatic staring intently in the mirror, dressed in a chicken suit with a banjo running through a loop station and a future gig booked @ (insert art space) as part of this years up coming Infringement Festival. I am not surprised that the Infringement Festival exists and that Buffalo has a sizable contingency of freaks and geeks that get hyped up over it. I love seeing people spill out of the shells, leaving the comfort of their bedroom to emulate the likes of Laurie Anderson, John Cage and Tony Conrad. Noise makers, avant-garde poets, theatrical misfits, jokesters and everything above and beyond congregate in unique settings to expose an alternative to the socially accepted “alternative” music and art scene. It is left of the left. Tending to be a rallying cry for local misanthropes who rarely leave the weirdness dungeon (or their video game stations), the Infringement Festival is good for someone who is uptight and used to a homeostasis that is flannel button downs and "indie rock cool" like me. I mean, I love experimental music as much as the next guy, but being immersed in an entire event dedicated to the crème of Buffalo’s freaky crop is a good dose of reality for us square pegs.

Freeze frame: Me, standing in the middle of the NAC (Nobody’s Art Center), ingesting homemade Chili and slugging down a delicious stout bought @ Mobil on the Run last Saturday. Life is weird. I stood there for a moment fixated on the painting of what seemed to be an impressionist piece of an ice cream melting City Hall done in Lemon Yellow and Purple and realized that the chili I liked the best was painted by the artist, Jason Klinger. Damn. He is really talented in both culinary art and fine art. I cannot paint anything except for skeletons with snakes coming out of their eye sockets (thanks heavy metal upbringing) and Slash portraits (thanks heavy metal upbringing, yet again!) I used to think that fine art was out of my league to criticize and that my opinions were of no consequence. There is some truth to this, and this can also be said for critiquing ones performance art. How the hell am I going to know why Gallagher smashes Watermelons? Eugene Chadbourne amplifies a rake, scratching it across the stage nonsensically and an audience of onlookers act impressed, while Pam and I stand there packing up the last of our gear post set thinking “what are we doing wrong?” There is no wrong or right in performance art. It is completely the moment’s notice, an impulse, totally unexpected and Id driven. This is something that resonated quite clearly at Nobody’s last Saturday.

I stood watching amazed and smiling watching The Dense, one of the finest examples of a local all-star lineup held in check by neurosis and gravity. The old adage “you don’t know what you’ve got, until it’s gone” aptly applies to the Dense playing their final show last Saturday. It was a shame to hear Andrew Sannes (the main impetus for the bands anxiety and overall live expression) state gloomily, “this is it for us folks, the last time we’ll all be playing together.” I love the Dense. There is no better example of raw catharsis with insanity as the glue then this band. They are genuine and the songs are great. No filler bullshit the music is stark and at times a throwback to early DEVO, the Dense is Buffalo music in a nutshell. Underdogs, freaks, odd ball textures (2 basses, a strange poly-synth droning throughout the set and bizarre manic vocals) with songs that tear across the room with abandon. I felt like I was watching early Floyd with Barrett. I am convinced that people will find a CD-r demo of them in 10 years and wax nostalgic about how amazing they were at this little art space back in the day. This shit never surprises me-- I always feel like the best things get swept under the rug or left in a box in the attic.



The other performances of the night were supplied by local dynamic Duo, A Hotel Nourishing & the Blue Laser. AHN is remarkable and rarely disappoints. Their music is taut and furious, somewhere between mid 90’s post punk and “For Respect” era Don Cab. If you find yourself watching them and thinking, “damn!” that is usually the common response yielded from AHN live. I’ve seen them on many occasion and this was no exception to their sheer kinetic force and explosion of sound.



Blue Lazer took to the stage last, but certainly not least in any way. There was a bit of downtime between the change-over but in the end it was well worth the 30 minute wait. Featuring a cast of bongo drum (with a contact microphone attached and boy was it loud!) and two keyboardists (one schooled, one not so schooled). The main thrust of the Blue Lazer set was a rant comprised of nonsense and strangely matter of fact humor that Blue Laser front man, Tim Sentman (Blue Laser), writes and rehearses! I found myself catching random lines that evoked hilarious imagery of intergalactic time travel, pizza delivery, cats in outer space and something about the weather. All in all, Blue Laser was a nice way to cap off an evening of unusual vibes and energy.

Patrons of Sweet: Nothing Drastic

Full Disclosure: Patrons Of Sweet frontman Vic Lazar contributes and is a friend to this blog. Although Vic's input here has been limited lately, he has been associated with myself and silo3 for the past several years.

Vic Lazar has been one of the greatest local musicians for the past 15 years, at least. His roster of past and present projects could fill a festival roster twice over. From His epic singer/songwriter work as Vox Humana, to being one third of the post-punk prog legends Knife Crazy, to His timeless ambient-electro collab with Pam Swarts in VictoryBlackLightHoney.

Ahem, with that out of the way...


Patrons of Sweet is like a 48-oz. steak, cut straight from the cow and tossed on the coals of an open-pit fire. Charred on the outside and bloody within, the is nothing subtle going on here. At times, the new record Nothing Drastic-- like last years Go Whatevers!, can be a ham-fisted take on mid-90s college rock. Throughout much of the album, Lazar and company switch between two volumes: 8 and 11. With an emphasis on urgency, the songs never have a chance to breath as the band throws in a new riff, tempo change, or vocal line almost every four bars. There are virtually no intro passages, no instrumental sections, no interludes, no crescendos, and no codas. As a rule, most of Nothing Drastic rarely comes within a whiff of anything that could be described as a groove. One of the only exceptions can be found in the album's transcendent closer-- "Under Such Heavy Surveillance."

A lack of repetitive grooves runs counter-intuitive to what one might expect from a group heavily influenced by 90s rock. Laying down a groove is a tool that last decade's alt-rockers wielded masterfully. From Fugazi to My Bloody Valentine to the Pixies and Nirvana, these bands knew the value of letting their songs breath and bounce.

The 90s also saw the renaissance of original guitar playing and like so many other Vic Lazar records, Nothing Drastic excels as a guitar masterstroke. While not entirely technical, the album is chock-full of original and unexpected twists and turns of the guitar phrase. Nothing Drastic should be required listening for anyone cynical of our local talent.

Many of the songs on this new record are obtuse and multilayered, revealing more to the listener with each successive pass through. With that in mind, The Patrons are at their absolute best when unloading titanic hooks, as first evidenced in the somewhat poppier Go Whatevers! "There's No More Room in the Beehive" and "Almost Executable" are two songs on Nothing Drastic that showcase the new lineup, with drummer Dave Bordin and bass player Matt Lavin, in full pop-bombast. However, these moments are too few and far between and could be evidence the band is still better off basking in the sunlight rather than wallowing in the muck.

Redwater DIY: part 2

As a part of our continuing series on the recording of Redwater's new album Time is a Lie, the band takes a break from mixing to sit down with Silo3. The band talks about using the DIY recording process to deliberately distill a multitude of rock influences in the process of making their new record. (Part one of Redwater DIY can be read here.)

THE METAL DETECTOR: Christmas Edition

the METAL DETECTOR

with Al Wreckless

As every metal fan knows, metal is not just a musical style; it’s a way of life. And it takes commitment. To truly be metal, at least 83% of your world must be classified as metal. Unfortunately, in the modern climate of the world, lines between reality and fiction are blurred more than ever. It’s getting harder and harder to determine what is truly metal. That’s why you need THE METAL DETECTOR.


Today, we take a look at Christmas. There is probably no more polarizing holiday than Christmas. On the one hand, it was intended as a celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ but has been commercialized into a crass materialistic season where people will literally kill one another for a good deal. Mortification would disapprove.

On the other hand, it’s a crass materialistic holiday about spending money. KISS would highly approve. In fact, I think Gene Simmons took a copyright on the whole concept of Christmas and we now all owe him some royalties.

Christmas started as a way of co-opting the Pagan festival of Dies Natalis Solis Invicti. The entire Norwegian black metal scene would disapprove. Christmas also minimizes the importance of Hanukah. Orphaned Land would disapprove.

In the end, no matter how much fun it is, Christmas isn’t very metal. On a scale of one to ten Manowars, it only rates a 2.7. And that’s simply because of this--

WTF chic

This fall has produced more than its share of WTFs: Weezer with Kenny G, Grizzly Bear with Michael MacDonald, Animal Collective sampling Zamfir, the Weezer Snuggie (let's face it Weezer has been one big WTF since Matt Sharp left.)

So what the fuck? Why are artists so geeked on being uncool? One possibility is a visceral reaction to the hipster culture that has spread to every corner of society. One could easily imagine the shaggy-haired hipster reaching for his iPhone at the first toots of Zamfir's pan-flute (mission accomplished!) In much the same way that Twee was punking the punks, WTF could be kicking cool kids in their girl-jean crotches. Of course, the irony of this explanation is it would mean that this is a calculated move rather than an organic outgrowth.

And, if there was anything sinister about the last decades obsession with hipsterdom-- it was the subculture's cold calculation. The explosion of media and meta-media fed into a vicious cycle of microtrends and hyperawareness. Keeping up with everything was only a click away and hipster clones quickly began rolling off factory lines. From the denizens in the deepest enclaves in Brooklyn to flood victims in the Midwest as seen on the evening news, faux-hawks and Strokes look-a-likes dotted the American landscape from coat to coast and campus to campus.

So as underground culture searches for a post-hipster identity and forces itself to un-ironically (gasp!) embrace its inner Pee Wee Herman, we may have to withstand periodic jolts of uber-uncool. Just open wide and try to relax-- like the micro-fads before, it'll be over before you know it.

Local, Live Alt-Rappers Stay On Message

Before the Benjis and the bling, hip-hoppers were all about a backbeat and a message. Whether it was De La Soul talking peace and love or KRS-One dropping knowledge, these "golden age-rs" emphasized content and commotion instead of an image or street cred. A wave of locals are returning to this ethos of early hip-hop only to take it in a new direction. Some are taking it to its more abstract, its more extreme, while others infuse the genre with new ideas and sounds. The results can be strange and abrasive one minute and propulsively upbeat the next.

BloodThirsty Vegans started as a cadre of artists playing only a once a year benefit show. A lineup began to solidify around a couple of MCs and the same core group has been together for about eight months. MC Vendetta, née Janna Willoughby, and My Rap name is Alex are the two vocalists/ MCs that anchor the variety of musical styles that the band delves into. While the term "skip hop" has been thrown around, in reference to the band's frequent fusion of ska and hip-hop, the Vegans musical style varies widely and remains difficult to pin down. Both MCs deliver rapid-fire quasi-ragamuffin style lyrics over this bubbling stew uptempo musical styles. The band says they differ from most live hip-hop acts in that they write tightly compacted definitive songs as opposed to a more "jam bandy" approach. Alex explains one unifying musical theme: "You should get up off your ass and dance."

Unifying the band as well is the message-driven content of their lyrics. The Vegans espouse a "call-to-action" mentality and challenge their audience both to appreciate what's around them and to get active, not only on the dance floor but in the community as well.

"I started writing to have an impact," says Alex. "But you can't have nearly the impact if people don't enjoy it."

"And we try to (have an impact) with the way we produce as a band too," adds primary drummer _dave. "We're getting our CD cases printed locally and on green materials; and we get our shirts prints locally."

The band continues to play more frequently than ever including many benefit shows that support a variety of causes.

"At zero money," says _dave. "But that's just cause we like playing a lot."
---
Another message driven artist steeped in the hip-hop ethos is Jack Topht (which, by the way, not a stage name). Along with The Vegetables, his partner Lindsey Grate who plays a drum kit and a variety of keyboards, Topht takes rap music to that more bizarre, abstract place. Adding elements of folk, punk, bedroom pop, and freak rock, his act is one part music, one part performance art.

"Me and Linds never really fit in with anybody," says Topht. "We do three or four rap songs, and then we got these quirky pop songs that don't really sound like anything... so I think we fit in with a lot of bands, but at the same time we don't fit in with any bands. We're like a punk rock band, or like, a weird pop band and we kind of make sense with noise bands too, cause we have an original sound."
Topht raps and sings over a myriad of beat-driven songs, which he describes as "light-hearted, upbeat and fun." He also tries to include what he calls "pep talk songs", songs that exude a positive, motivational message to serve as reassurance in a harsh reality.

"Those are the major theme's I try and cover: life's weird, do your best, stuff like that you know?"

The band recently took these themes on the road, playing shows across the Midwest and up the West Coast. Topht says the band played with a variety of acts, in a variety of settings: a sweltering basement in Reno, a garage rock fest in San Diego, an art-house/performance space in Montana. He says they translated well at almost every show in almost every city. They returned to Buffalo ready to record another full length album.
---
Zev is another artist skewing the old school ethos. A Ph.D candidate at SUNY Buffalo, Zev has his fingers in many pies. He performs both as a solo act, backed by prerecorded beats, and with live bands as well. As a solo performer and producer, his sound can be dark, rich and cinematic.

"I definitely like lush soundscapes and multi-layered stuff," says Zev. "A lot of influence (for me) comes from really early boom-bap, real stripped down stuff. But I definitely prefer more lush stuff."

As someone who's been performing with bands since the late 90's, Zev is also in touch with the live, more tactile approach to musical performance.He tailors the live hip-hop versions of his songs to arrangements written by the particular group he's working with at the time, whether it be with local indie rockers notic or musicians from an artist group called the Intangible Collective.

Some 80's and 90's rappers had an overtly political or social messages. Public Enemy, NWA, and Ice-T all drove home their message with scathing indictments of both the community and the system around them. Zev tends to stay away from hot button topics that might turn off listeners and instead focuses on more introspective issues.

"I talk about the sense of alienation (that comes from) living in this sort of, weird post-modern world and the sort of questions of identity that I think a lot people in this country and around world that people are asking themselves," he explains. "So, basically the unrest that comes from being a compassionate individual in this exceedingly violent world."

Zev performs, when time allows, at traditional venues and art spaces alike. He says while school and other endeavors take up much of his time, making music and performing in Buffalo are passions he finds time for.

"Buffalo has such a great music scene: its close knit, its good size and its definitely made me feel that I should keep doing this stuff cause there's really a lot happening here."

THE METAL DETECTOR: Twitter

the METAL DETECTOR
with Al Wreckless

As every metal fan knows, metal is not just a musical style; it’s a way of life. And it takes commitment. To truly be metal, at least 83% of your world must be classified as metal. Unfortunately, in the modern climate of the world, lines between reality and fiction are blurred more than ever. It’s getting harder and harder to determine what is truly metal. That’s why you need THE METAL DETECTOR.


Today, we take a look at social networking website Twitter. If you don’t know what Twitter is, then you’re the ultimate hermit and therefore truly metal and don’t need this column for help.

Like other social network tools, Twitter allows long-lost friends, family and random strangers with little in common to connect and keep up on each other’s lives. Metallica would approve. I think. I’m not sure what their stance on fan interaction is these days.

Twitter has found a surprising audience with the older generation. Even congressmen have taken to tweeting during Obama speeches. There is no age limit to be a twitterer. Ronnie James Dio would approve.

On the other hand, Twitter limits you to 140 characters per post. Anything you say has to brief, thus preventing something truly epic. Voivod would strongly disapprove.

Truthfully, social network websites are pretty lame and populated by Top 40 fans and wimpy emo nerds. In other words, the very people metalheads should be beating up. On a scale of one to ten Manowars, Twitter scores a pitiful 1.3. Stick with MySpace, at least you can customize your profile page to look evil and force people to listen to some crunching metal.

Crappy Futurism: the new aesthetic?

The lo-fi retro futurism of the Flaming Lips fantastic new album along with Wired's "Good Enough Revolution", and even the latest iPhone killer, with its allusions to Star Wars' futuristic dystopia, seems to be heralding a new aesthetic in our culture and music. This new aesthetic makes all the more sense when framed by these "tough economic times" we currently live in.

Call it a commentary on the materialism of the past decade. A decade that saw brand name/ designer awareness reach an all-time high. Think about it, when The Devil Wears Prada came out, no one asked for an elaboration on what exactly Prada was. Urban, which made a name for itself catering to grungy skateboarders, now sells $200 sunglasses out of a case by the front window.

Call it a commentary on the modernism of the past decade. Minimal modernism was everywhere-- Kompakt, futura, IKEA, even the White Strips saw a post millennium bounce. No doubt all this minimalism would experience some blow-back. But if minimalism were a stock, I'd short it.

Instantly transmitted cell phone video, tinny mp3s, twitter... What does this all mean for the future of music? The recent rise of lo-fi rock and glitchy techno might be more than passing fads. Will the blown out sounds of Times New Viking ever be used to sell Cadallacs? Will Sileni's micro-edited freakouts ever pack the dance floors on Chippewa? Highly doubtful, but don't be surprised to hear something like "No time, no hope" underneath a Mountain Dew commercial sometime in the crappy near future.

THE METAL DETECTOR: Dick Cheney

the METAL DETECTOR
with Al Wreckless

As every metal fan knows, metal is not just a musical style; it’s a way of life. And it takes commitment. To truly be metal, at least 83% of your world must be classified as metal. Unfortunately, in the modern climate of the world, lines between reality and fiction are blurred more than ever. It’s getting harder and harder to determine what is truly metal. That’s why you need THE METAL DETECTOR.


Today, we take a look at former Vice President Dick Cheney. At first glance, he doesn’t seem very metal. He looks like my grandpa. Actually, he looks like Col Klink’s grandpa. But let’s take a closer look at this complicated imp, shall we? He shot a guy in the face. The members of Mayhem would approve. He’s big on starting wars for self-serving reasons. The members of Bolt Thrower would approve. He’s in favor of torture. The members of Slayer would approve. He’s intolerant of other religions/beliefs/opinions,etc. Varg Vikernes would approve (though he’d support a different religion).

Now that Dick Cheney is now longer in power, we can sit back and admit that he truly is a badass. Seriously, he shot a guy in the face and the guy was so scared, he actually apologized to Cheney. That’s pretty metal. On the other hand, he did pretty much fuck our country over. On a scale of one to ten Manowars, Cheney rates an 8.2.