14th May 2011

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Guitar Wolf / Cheap Time at the Kitting Factory

Huey Lewis was right you guys.

Let’s take this in order. Cheap Time opened up last night at the Knitting Factory, and they blazed through a set full of some bitchin’ tunes with roughly zero applause breaks. The three-piece combo of garage-thunder fucking killed it, loud as hell, but tight enough that the volume actually works in their favor, rather than masking a lack of skill as is so often the case. Cheap Time made me realize that I had forgotten that everyone else had forgotten how to fucking rock. And their drummer looks like Jack Black.

Then, Guitar Wolf. Drum and Bass Wolves appear first, and started things up, getting everyone all amped up for some nut-crushing rock. As soon as Guitar Wolf took the stage and yelled out “HEY NEW YAWKU!”, everything, as expected, exploded. Not literally, I should add, because that might not be unexpected at a Guitar Wolf performance. This one was pure rock, no pyro, no special effects. There was, however, a machine gun (which looked an awful lot like a guitar), and Seiji (Guitar Wolf) shot everyone. The best part was when he went over to U.G. (Bass Wolf) and pointed out a specific audience member to him. U.G. gave that guy the finger, and Seiji shot him. Well fucking done.

The World’s Greatest Jet Rock’n’Roll Band (sorry Joan) annihilated for about ninety minutes, including two encores, causing a tsunami river of sweat to pour from Seiji’s face in a manner that should have been absolutely revolting (and probably was, if you were closer to the front) but just came off as a symbol of pure Japanese punk spirit. Musical highlights of their set included their cover of the MC5’s “Kick out the Jams” (“KICK OUT JAMS, MAHFUCKAH!!!”), Link Wray’s “Rumble,” Guitar Wolf’s own “Can-Nana Fever,” and a Muddy Waters-influenced blues jam whose name I don’t know, but I will express some minor disappointment that they did not play their fucking insane cover of “Summertime Blues.” Who cares, though? They killed it.

Seiji was very into the crowd, and maybe the best part of the show was watching his interactions with Americans with seemingly little experience communicating with Japanese people who are into rockabilly dancing. He pulled up a fat dude to play guitar on one song, and he did surprisingly well; he left the stage a fucking rock star, and I was 100% jealous. Later on, he pulled a couple on stage to dance like Elvis with him, and they could not do it. The dude tried, but the girl just jumped up and down like a retarded retard. About ten minutes was spent trying to get them to dance right, and eventually they were sent back into the crowd.

The silliest crowd participation? Two words: human pyramid.

Guitar Wolf rock’n’roll number one!

Tagged: Guitar WolfjitteringCheap TimeKnitting Factoryrock'n'roll!loclock an lowl!stuck in thee garage

2nd November 2010

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The Strange Boys and Natural Child at the Knitting Factory

Well, this is a bit later than I normally like to post concert reports, and the next one couple will probably be kind of late too, but, well, shit’s busy, okay? I’m sorry, I’m sorry! New, cool stuff is coming up, we swears!

Natural Child, gettin’ all psychedelic…

Going into this show, I didn’t really know much about Natural Child, so, being a pessimist, I went in to things not expecting anything stellar. I’d also hyped myself up for the Strange Boys by listening to the songs “Be Brave” and “This Girl Taught Me a Dance” several times. I set myself up for a pleasant surprise and a kind of bummer, both in the same night.

A couple o’ the Strange Boys. God I suck.

I’ll get the bummer out of the way first. Strange Boys? Not that awesome. To be honest, I had sort of forgotten that, aside from a handful of genuinely awesome songs, they don’t really have a lot of great material. I’ve been kind of underwhelmed by both of their records, and their set at the Knitting Factory last Thursday was another not-as-amazing-as-I’d-like one. But, here’s the bright side of things. They do have some songs that I think are truly awesome (the aforementioned ones, in particular), and I get the feeling that they will be a great band at some point. The elements are clearly present, but, as things stand right now, they’re still just shy of awesome. Thursday-night-specific issue: I could have used more sax in the mix Thursday night, I couldn’t really hear it, and it was sorely missed on “Be Brave.”

Drummers (like the one above, from Natural Child) make the best goofs.

Now, the pleasant surprise: Natural Child fucking kills! They hit on all sorts of awesome — from catchy, Stooges-inspired riffs to acid-garage grooves — and the chatter in between songs was legitimately funny, in a personal, conversational way. Not “shtick” and not “banter.” I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised; guest-contributor Leigh mentioned the group in her write-up of Scion Garage Fest, and called them “an integral part of everything I currently love that’s coming out of Nashville lately.” Sign me on to the Natural Child-fan-party. They’re in it to win it. And any band that makes jokes about Eric Clapton’s baby has all the punk rock cred you need.

Tagged: Knitting FactoryNatural ChildStrange BoysWHATTA BUNCH A YUK-A-LUKShonkers and squeakersstuck in thee garagestooges

18th October 2010

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King Khan & the Shrines / Gentleman Jesse & his Men / LiveFastDie at the Bell House

LiveFastDie gettin’ all Ramones on yo’ ass.

Lost a guitar strap, but kept it goin’ like a pro. You should’ve seen the band teamwork utilized to get the strap back on. Brought a tear to my eye.

Not sure what the deal with the party shirt/Jersey beanie/mustache/sunglasses combo is about, but … I guess I’m fer it?

I arrived at the Bell House late, I’m sure well into the first set, but still managed to catch LiveFastDie blast out about a dozen songs. My first thought upon seeing the group of Jay Reatard-lookin’ dudes One-Two-Three-Four!’ing through cut after cut of Ramones tunes was that there wasn’t much going on here. But I realized after every song ended with about a minute and a half of faux-facemelting guitar noodles that there really was some second-order aesthetics going on. The group was making fun of guitar acrobatics, making fun of rock music in general, and the result was some abrasive Voidoidsian noise that was honestly pretty funny. Solid.

Gentleman Jesse and the Attractions his Men.

Goof-a-loof.

Gentleman Jesse and his Men pulled together janglin’ guitars; treble-y organ sound; tight, pounding drums; and sweet gang vocals to create a catchy set of pop songs that sort of ran backwards through time. By the end of their set, they were playing roots rock, but when it began, Jesse was clearly Elvis Costello-ing around the stage. The five-piece was tight as all hell, with, as far as I could tell, not a single stumble. Definitely one to watch out for, and as Jesse mentioned a couple times, the Atlanta crew will be coming back to the city for CMJ this week, so if you’re doing that thing, you might wanna check them out.

Lead guitarist Till Tim gettin’ ready to introduce the King.

A new dancer and a sweet-ass hat.

The ballin’est horn section in all the nations.

After much free-jazz noise-fanfare from the powerful horn, guitar, percussion, and synth combo that is the Shrines, King Khan took the stage wearing a five-feathered fedora and began to knock out some heavily rockin’ soul music. It sounded gnarly and everything, but the crowd was still a little subdued. You might have thought something was wrong, but the truth is you just don’t dance ‘til Khan tells you. And when he does, you fuckin’ get down. As the second number started, Khan ordered the crowd eruption, and from that point forward, things only got increasingly insane. The horn section was tight as is possible, and the whole band were nailing the falsetto pieces hard. The whole band was truly in top condition, and when they blasted through songs like “Land of the Freaks” at maddening speeds, it served only to knock home the fact that this band is unparalleled in funk and garage sound. Khan closed out the lowdown and dirty performance of a new song, “Bite My Tongue,” by shouting out “I’m the son of a bad muthafucka,” and he proved it time and time again. Near the end of the set, Khan delivered more orders to the crowd. “Everybody freak the fuck out!” he screamed, and everybody did. By the time the encore came around, Khan relinquished his control of the crowd, and they took to the stage. It was absolute chaos, with more than 25 people on stage dancing, picking up members of the horn section on their shoulders, and generally being insane. Looking into the often expressionless face of King Khan, it wouldn’t be obvious that the guy has the ability to command a crowd to do whatever he pleases, but after witnessing his skill in taking them from a fairly subdued audience to a riotous gang of psychopaths was one of the most impressive things I’ve seen in a long while.

Thanks to Liisa for taking all these photos, and hit the jump for some more. Check out her blog: Solving World Peace.

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Tagged: bell houseLiveFastDiegentleman jesse & his menking khanking khan and the shrinesgowanusstuck in thee garagehonkers and squeakers

16th October 2010

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Guest Contribution: Scion Garage Fest in Lawrence, Kansas Part Three

Part three of our coverage of Lawrence, Kansas’ Scion Garage Fest has arrived! If you missed the first two, check them out. As we left guest contributor / rock’n’roll mercenary Leigh last, she’d just caught the Clean knock around the Granada…

As we got closer to the witching hour I began to reflect upon Garage Fest thus far, deciding that, as a general rule: if I can rest my elbows and/or boobs on the stage then that means it’s too high. This stage felt grandiose. It would’ve been enough for five three-pieces to play on without touching and despite full awareness of the party that King Kahn was about to unleash, I chose to stay put and see The Oblivians. Being unable to resist the chance to see the anti-heros responsible for ushering one 15-year-old Jay Reatard into his rock ‘n’ roll manhood and all.

I should have known better.

Not unlike a fungus; messy, distorted rock’n’roll music or “garage” tends to thrive in dark and cramped conditions. It’s there that it flourishes, able to reach its full potential for base nastiness. Seeing the Oblivians play a stage with mics set up all around it and a two-camera recording crew was one thing. The fact that there was a 40-foot ceiling and a good 15 to 20 feet between members was another. Torn from their natural environment and with band members each marooned on their own island of unneccesary, heart-deadening space, the whole affair become strangly removed from context—it was kind of like getting an H.J. from someone in a spacesuit under fluorescent lights … while bored guys with goatees filmed it all.

But it was still wise to end with The Oblivians, their set being much more conducive to getting riled up regardless of the setting—as proven by the shouting-out of lyrics, a crowdsurfer in a wheelchair, and a burly guy screaming requests from behind a luchador mask. Seeing two legendary bands in such a spacious petri dish of media attention may have been a bit anticlimactic, but it was not a total waste of time. And it was nice that there was a place for those sad souls comprising the overflow from the one-in, one-out, we’re-at-total-fucking-capacity King Kahn hoedown to go.

During my three-band stint at The Granada I’d had plenty of opportunities to glance at my fancy telephone like a lame-o (er, “media professional”) and thanks to it, I now had the address to a secret Spits house-show taking place in an hour. Walking down the street in desperate need of more grub, I passed by Replay Lounge where I’d heard that a Black Lips DJ set would be happening along with an unaffiliated local show featuring Fag Cop, Weird Wounds, Strong Smells, The Spook Lights, etc. etc. I pressed my face to the glass and watched whatever band it was through the window. The fact that something stopped me for a good three minutes on my way to food after eight hours of shows is a testament to how good it sounded in there. Moral of the story: Lawrence is filled with rad bands.

Rejuvenated by a breadless sandwich, I headed a few blocks away to a quiet residential street lined with cutesy houses where creeps were silently cutting through side yards and assembling below ground for what was to be, unarguably, one of the best parts of Garage Fest: the part that wasn’t. A little after 1 a.m., after the Spits had scrounged together some sound equipment and played to packed mud-room (what do you call an almost-livingroom with a tile floor??) with a freshly-painted mural of a Gremlin pope impaling batman on his scepter. I finally felt like I was seeing Lawrence proper (and like I could relax, since there was now nowhere else to be). Bad art projects, a hula-hoop, bolo ties, leather jackets and “Lawrence Pizzas” backpatches all circulated the space; locals high-fived and hit the ceiling (literally). Watching it all unfold from my perch atop a makeshift computer desk in the back of the room while listening to Rip Up The Streets gave me the warm fuzzies all over.

Detroit’s Human Eye had made it all the way down from the 8-Mile to play after The Spits. They unraveled all kinds of psychedelic, echoey cave-noise from outer-space while I stomped around like a goon. Finally, broken glass and the appropriate amount of filth. I took some green fake blood to the face, watched their singer / guitarist Timmy Lampinen hand out free copies of their new Fragments of The Universe Nurse LP, and with more energy than most of the night’s band combined he proceeded to don a plastic brain-patterned swim-cap, get tangled up in a tapestry, and scream over the drums even as his PA / mic cut out completely. I think we all appreciated the effort.

But best of all, after 13 hours of shows, my personal sock-filled promotional tote-bag and I found a place to sleep for the night. Thank you to Wonder Fair Gallery, Ben, and Lizzie, I see how Lawrence do and I liked what I seed. Hallelujah, amen.

Obligatory bands-I-would’ve-most-like-to-see-(besides KK & The Shrines)-but-didn’t-get-to list: Happy Birthday, Tyvek, White Wires, Bad Sports, The Gories.

And that concludes our report on this year’s Garage Fest. Thanks again to Leigh for writin’ words, takin’ pictures, and gettin’ dirty, and for providing me with something to keep you guys busy while I’m on leave in Las Vegas. Check out more of her work at her Flickr and at LeighMetzler.com. Send her some love, and send me some coffee. See ya in a couple of days.

Tagged: scion garage festoblivianslawrencekansasstuck in thee garagethe granadareplay loungeblack lipsfag copweird woundsstrong smellsspook lightsthe spitsrip up the streetshuman eyegories

13th October 2010

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Guest Contribution: Scion Garage Fest in Lawrence, Kansas Part One

You might have heard about that Scion Garage Fest in Lawrence, Kansas that went down a couple weeks ago. As an until-recently-unemployed person, I wasn’t able to make it down to catch the insane (and free) lineup of gnarled garage-punk (though the fact that most of these bands have done free shows in Brooklyn in the recent past and probably will again did make this a bit easier to take). But guess what? An Uncontrollable Urge is covering it anyway via our first guest contributor. Here’s Part One of our coverage of Scion Garage Fest. Take it away, Leigh!

Dave (both Keymaster & Gatekeeper of this blog) and I had met and bonded digitally over his write-up of the recent Nobunny / Jacuzzi Boys show at the Knitting Factory we’d both attended this summer. He’d also mentioned that the last Scion event he had been to provided all the audience members with free socks. Had Nobunny made filthy-bubblegum dreams come true that memorable late-August evening? …Yes. But where were these socks? I didn’t see any socks. Even Nobunny was barefoot.

A week-or-two later when I found out that Scion was hosting yet another free event — a garage festival in Lawrence, Kansas — my prime directive was made immediatly clear: drive 1,200 miles and get the logo-covered swag that was rightfully mine. And if I got to see The Oblivians play while I was there, so be it.

The end of September rolled around quick, and with it, me and picture-maker hit the open road. 1/2 way to Kansas the whole operation was made legitimate: somehow, through some finagling and polite e-mailing, I’d managed to get a photo pass. Maybe I’d even get a bonus VIP-set of socks. The other perk would be not having to wait in line all day for a wristband following a 21-hour drive from Philadelphia.

So, on the perfectly crisp fall afternoon of October 2nd, year of our lord 2010, after finding a Danzig t-shirt that morning a few towns over (- in my size! - for a dollar!); I had reached Lawrence city limits. I signed in and armed with my shittily-scrawled hit-list & an internet print-out of downtown, I went straight to work.

First on that list was Natural Child (Infinity Cat records), a 33% sleeveless, three-piece party-unto-themselves who are an integral part of everything I currently love that’s coming out of Nashville lately. I was ready to bang my head.

The venue was lit by a neon, electric blue pinstripe of light running around the sides of the place. It looked like a dance club. They were playing the Dead Milkmen when I walked in though and I took this as a good omen.

Natural Child can rock any basement like it’s Altamont without much difficulty. The turnout that day for them as openers, however, was especially slim. They had a good sense of humor about it and despite having to play to the hollow, cavernous, Super-Dome of The Granada they sounded solid as ever; putting forth the effort many bands don’t bother with at 4 p.m.: rolling around and hopping down off the stage and trying to make the whole scenario less weird and more like a punk show. Luckily, by the end of their set I noticed the room had filled-out considerably. (Note: this band’s side project / joke record is even good. “Cybersex Offenders”, also on Infinity Cat. Look into it.)

Gentleman Jesse (Douchemaster) was next. I scurried back to Liberty Hall where I had to dump out my water, undergo a bag-check, get another wrist band, and pee like crazy. The set was already half over. Despite these minor setbacks I walked up to the stage in time to be charmed by Jesse & His Men sweatily cranking out their last few songs. They sounded fantastic. I will not be missing ‘em when they roll back through my town in two weeks and you shouldn’t either.

Next up at Liberty Hall was Times New Viking (Matador), who had some good fuzz-soaked tracks floating around my ipod, but who I also knew nothing about. I don’t know if their songs just got lost in the soundboard or what but they just weren’t translating. T.N.V did not play poorly, but they didn’t reach what I imagine their live-potential is. I was generally not able to hear / discern much of anything in particular. Heads bobbed politely.

Restless, I took off for The Jackpot to see the Cola Freaks and was instantly relieved. Of the two venues I’d seen so far this third one was the smallest of them. The ceiling was low, the lighting was moody, and people seemed to be hanging out having a good time instead of milling around, looking like lost cattle waiting passively to be garage-rocked. The Jackpot was, above all, a bar - not a theatre. And I was just in time to watch the next band (on Hjernespind / Douchemaster / etc.) set up; who, notably, contain two members that made up the new version of Jay Reatard after he’d had his lover’s spat with new-Wavvesrs Stephen Pope and Billy Hayes last October.

But I digress. Cola Freaks hopped up on stage and satisfyingly burned through a collection of punchy, Wire-y jams, smiling and promising to “go back to Denmark”. Amusingly, the songs were too good for me to notice that all the lyrics were in Danish. The two kids next to me pogoing in plaid pants, pulling their Le Shok t-shirts over their faces enthusiastically, didn’t seem distracted by this either.

By 7:30, being less than half-way through the night and already feeling tired from running around like an asshole, I poured some espresso into my face (Lawrence has approximately 3,000 - 4,000 coffee shops in a 8 block radius), ate an egg and cheese across the street from The Granada, and got ready to see Digital Leather.

That’s it for the first part of our coverage of Scion Garage Fest. Check back soon for part two (and more), and don’t forget to check out Leigh’s other works at her Flickr and LeighMetzler.com. Thanks, Leigh!

Tagged: cola freaksdigital leathergentleman jesse & his menjacuzzi boysknitting factorylawrenceliberty hallnatural childnobunnyobliviansscion garage festthe granadathe jackpottimes new vikingstuck in thee garage

1st September 2010

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New Oblivians song!

I guess part of the deal when people do that free Scion Garage show thing is they put out a 7-inch with Vice Records. So, the Oblivians have recorded a split with Andre Ethier, and it’s right here:

Scion A/V Garage: The Oblivians / Andre Ethier by ScionAV

I gotta say, I’m a big fan of this Scion marketing ploy.

Tagged: obliviansandre ethieroblivionknitting factorystuck in thee garage