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CHUI WAN/BUG CHASER/TONE RODENT

(May 11, 2015; OFF BROADWAY, Saint Louis MO)

Chui Wan (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)
Chui Wan (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)

To say that I was stoked to see Chui Wan, a young psychedelic band from Beijing, China, is something akin to an understatement. All it took was hearing one song from their self-titled second album and, I was hooked. The fact that some old friends, Tone Rodent, were on the bill, alongside the belligerently unhinged octet, Bug Chaser, was merely icing on an already perfect cake. Though, as a touring band, Chui Wan were the de facto headliner, the decision was made to slot them between the two local acts (a choice precipitated by the fact that drummer Li Zichao was using Tone Rodent Adam Dick’s kit; plus, bassist Matty Coonfield was pulling double duty, playing in both Saint Louis bands); to maintain a certain “you were there” sense of continuity, this review will start with Tone Rodent and end with Bug Chaser.

Tone Rodent (Matty Coonfield, Adam Watkins) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)
Tone Rodent (Matty Coonfield, Adam Watkins) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)

At some point in the last decade and a half, I reviewed a Tone Rodent show (give me a break if I can’t remember specifics, huh? I’m old!). Here’s what I do remember: I liked them. So, now, all these years (or months or days or hours… whatever) later, I can unequivocally tell you this: I still like them. At this point, Adam Watkins (vocals and guitar) and Matty Coonfield (bass) are the only original members from that band I saw way back when; the current version – with guitarist Jeff Robtoy, keyboard player Mark Early and drummer Adam Dick – were playing what may have been their final show, as Adam Dick is calling it a day and Coonfield is leaving to direct his energies toward Bug Chaser. The band lumbered, rather than tore, through a shambolic 35 minute set that, aside from some minor technical issues was, nevertheless, thoroughly enjoyable. Watkins and Robtoy complimented and played against each other (as the situation dictated) quite well and Early’s ambient drone added a depth that isn’t usually found in the noisy, hard-edged psychedelia at which Tone Rodent excel. Dick proved himself to be much more than a timekeeper, with precise fills and unexpected flourishes. And, as I’ve said too many times to count, there’s just something in the water supply that lifts Saint Louis bass players to another level; the style of music being played is irrelevant… once I hear that deep-in-the-pocket groove of the bass, I can almost always tell that the player has Saint Louis roots. Matty is no exception and is as solid and as funky as any bassist to come out of the Lou in the past three decades. Six songs into the set, Watkins said, “We have two more. After sixteen years, we’re down to two songs… and we plan to fuck both of ’em up.” The next tune sounded great but, as the group started “Amen,” Jeff’s guitar cord shorted out but, after much chiding from his bandmates and a save from a Bug Chaser, the final song from the current line-up of Tone Rodent was over, the notes ringing in the ears of the Monday night denizens of Off Broadway.

Chui Wan (Liu Xinyu; Yan Yulong) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)
Chui Wan (Liu Xinyu; Yan Yulong) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)

Okay… so this is where a little learnin’ may come in handy. To understand the importance of a group like Chui Wan, I think we should first understand a bit about where they come from. Beijing’s history traces back more than three millennia – under different names – and boasts such cultural and historic sites as the Great Wall, the Forbidden City and the Temple of Heaven. As the cultural and political center of the People’s Republic of China, it has also been the scene of political unrest, revolution and protest: The Cultural Revolution (1966-1976) and the infamous Gang of Four and, perhaps, the most famous societal event in recent history, the 1989 protests in Tiananmen Square. Beijing is one of the most densely populated cities in the world, with more than 20 million citizens packed into an area a little over 6,300 square miles (that comes out to something like 3,400 people per square mile… to paraphrase Cheap Trick, “That’s tight!”). That’s the background – the culture and the history – that informs the music and lives of Chui Wan, alongside a diverse musical landscape that includes, individually, Classical and traditional Chinese music, avant garde pioneer John Cage (himself influenced by Eastern music and the philosophy of the I CHING) and, the one major influence that all four members cite: The Velvet Underground. Now, imagine these four young musicians venturing forth into a very different Western culture… a culture where, especially in the United States, celebrity and money are more important than history and tradition; a culture that claims superiority and looks down upon the cultural and societal mores of someone – anyone – who doesn’t share our culture and beliefs… even when we’re on their home turf. Let’s face it… we are arrogant and shallow. So, it’s with that backdrop of major culture shock (not to mention the language barrier… WE expect these young people to be conversant in our language because… “Hey, we’re Americans. What makes you so special that you can’t even learn our language?”) that Chui Wan made their third appearance in the USA (Visa problems caused them a delay of about ten days and seven shows). And what an appearance it was!

Chui Wan (Wu Qiong; Li Zichao) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)
Chui Wan (Wu Qiong; Li Zichao) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)

As bassist Wu Qiong began an intro riff that would make Tony Levin proud, all of those cultural differences didn’t matter anymore; all that mattered was the music. Though their sound is seemingly tight and structured, there is also a sense of the adventurous, the experimental. I immediately heard an Adrian Belew-era King Crimson influence (though I was assured that reference would have been lost on the quartet) – or to be more accurate, Fripp’s other, more improvisational group of the same period, the League of Gentlemen – as well the free-wheeling feel of some of the early 1970s (mostly) instrumental offerings from Zappa’s Mothers of Invention; there were also moments that had me nodding my head, thinking, “Now I get the John Cage reference.” Though many of the band’s compositions border on free-form jazz, it’s Liu Xinyu’s effects-heavy guitar and Li Zichao’s progressive drumming that garners the group its psychedelic label; the sounds Liu coaxes out of his instrument can best be described as “otherworldly,” and isn’t that a prime definition of psychedelic music? Yan Yulong adds atmospheric soundscapes on, not only guitar, but keyboard and – briefly (and very effectively) – viola, as well. Yan, who also supplies the majority of what vocals there are, delivers them in a nearly inaudible drone that further feeds the psychedelic miasma; Wu Qiong has one vocal, a quiet and – dare I say – humble performance that seems a much more comfortable match for her demeanor than is her spirited, funky bass playing. Maybe the most amazing aspect of the inspired (and inspiring) performance is the fact that the four are – literally – wunderkinds… all are in their very early 20s (drummer Li is barely 20) and have been playing – individually and collectively – since an early age (the band’s debut album, WHITE NIGHT, was released in 2012). Even if most of the Monday night denizens were unfamiliar with Chui Wan when they took the stage, after their set, I heard nothing but terms of reverential awe regarding what will long be remembered as a triumphal Saint Louis debut.

Bug Chaser (Pat Grosch; Kevin Insinna) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)
Bug Chaser (Pat Grosch; Kevin Insinna) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)

After a prolonged delay, the eight-headed beast known as Bug Chaser took the stage. If Tone Rodent’s set was shambolic, then Bug Chaser’s could only be labeled chaotic, with Matty Coonfield reveling in the unbridled insanity. There were actual songs played but, naming them would merely be an exercise in futility… all you really need to know is that the band and the crowd were having too much fun to worry about things like song titles. The group was occasionally augmented and exhorted by a gentleman who originally appeared to be a drunken, overzealous fan but, as the set proceeded, seemed to be more of a well-placed prop, dancing and prancing behind the group one minute and playing the role of cocktail waitress the next. The tunes (noises?) ranged from boisterous boogie to raging rock to furious funk (see what I did there?), all delivered with a reckless abandon reminiscent of George Clinton’s P-Funk All-Stars at their most debauched. The percussive unit of Kevin Insinna and Taylor Huff (for I believe it was they of whom I speak) laid down a solid groove, where the notes they didn’t play were as important as the ones they did; their rhythm section inmate, Coonfield, pumped out bass riffs dense enough to caulk a large-scale bathroom at the Mall of America. Zeng Zengerling and Jake Jones are potent forces of guitar showmanship, sharing frantic leads and trading querulous solos over the expansive bottom end, which also included keyboard and effects work from Jake Bremler and Jeff White. Standing over all is the strutting vocal peacock, Pat Grosch, who reminds me of a younger, more boisterous Weird Al Yankovic… but with better hair. For a full-on sonic assault, you’ve gotta see these guys live… until then, check out some tunes at Bandcamp.

DANIEL LANOIS/ROCCO DELUCA

(May 5, 2015; THE DUCK ROOM at BLUEBERRY HILL, Saint Louis MO)

Daniel Lanois with Jim Wilson and Kyle Crane (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)
Daniel Lanois with Jim Wilson and Kyle Crane (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)

For a guy who’s NOT a household name, Canadian musician/producer Daniel Lanois has sure had a huge impact on modern music. He engineered some of Brian Eno’s early ambient recordings, collaborated on Eno’s 1983 masterpiece APOLLO and some later works, co-produced U2 with Eno on seminal albums like THE UNFORGETTABLE FIRE, THE JOSHUA TREE, ACHTUNG BABY and more, did peerless auteur-style producing duties for albums by Bob Dylan, Emmylou Harris, Neil Young and others, and released some terrific, pleasant solo recordings of his own, among them ACADIE, FOR THE BEAUTY OF WYNONA, BELLADONNA and his brand-new FLESH AND MACHINE. Lanois is a gentle, philosophical musical visionary who seems utterly tuned in to the deepest aspects of artistic intent and maximum creative impact. His show at the Duck Room was surprising in the dynamic range of what was performed and the sharp-edged clarity of the sound.

Rocco DeLuca (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)
Rocco DeLuca (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)

The audience was first treated to a handful of songs by opener Rocco DeLuca, who has a soft voice of incandescent, emotive clarity, double the impact of similar intonation by, say, Bon Iver. “You sing like a bird, Rocco,” Lanois told him early on, in an apt compliment. The sound crew were clearly on their game right from the start, and this made every tune stand out, from the loud to the more gentle numbers.

Daniel Lanois (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)
Daniel Lanois (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)

Lanois delivered both about equally, with a major tribal aspect to the rhythmic foundation that had the audience really riveted. “Sioux Lookout,” a track from the new album, was introduced as a piece “about the balance with nature,” as Lanois explained the challenges and daunting experiences faced by the indigenous Canadian tribes he has so clearly been influenced by both musically and philosophically. And a beautiful instrumental piece was introduced with the comment “I wrote this song when I saw the empty eyes of a native compadre.” Lanois is adept at both instrumentals and “conventional” songs with vocals, and the show was divided roughly equally that way. A rousing, aggressive piece called “The Burning Spear” was put together “like a punk thing,” the artist told us, and indeed, it rocked and tranced the crowd out in delerious fashion. But then Lanois would turn around and do a tender song like “I Love You,” from 2003’s SHINE, which featured simple lyrics that expressed that sentiment unpretentiously, something he said that more songs need to do. Also performed from that album: “JJ Leaves L.A.,” one of several tunes showcasing Lanois on his “trusted friend,” the steel guitar. It’s definitely a signature element of his sound. And he did one of his best-known songs “The Maker” from ACADIE, drawing a tremendous response from a crowd that kept growing throughout the show, it seemed. Lanois was effusive with his praise for the audience and their enthusiastic reactions to the material. A highlight was the communal “Congregate,” which featured Rocco again on strong vocals, and which inspired a short commentary by Lanois about the value of gathering for special, magical moments in life. The crowd ate these moments up.

Daniel Lanois (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)
Daniel Lanois (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)

Worthy of special praise were the vocal harmonies by Lanois and “mighty” Jim Wilson (his bass player and sideman for over a decade). Wilson is a consummate musician who has sung and played guitar in another revered band called Mother Superior who have performed and recorded as Henry Rollins’ backing band. Lanois clearly has the utmost respect for Wilson judging from their amiable musical partnership and back and forth comments, and Wilson, all smiles at the show, obviously feels the same way. From the hypnotic rhythmic elements all night (courtesy of Kyle Crane), to the well-paced variety, soothing instrumental passages, and the affable warmth of master Lanois himself, this was a truly delightful, pleasing show all around. Lanois is something of a rare gem in the music industry, a guy whose actions and enthusiasm ripple throughout different genres, with lasting impact. One hopes he will return to St. Louis again before too long, and judging by the enthusiastic response tonight, that’s more than likely.

LOCAL H/BATTLEME/FUMER

(April 30,2015; FIREBIRD, Saint Louis MO)

DSC02473

The intimate, unassuming Firebird is nestled in an office building, with a law firm and other concerns on either side, and… HOLY CRAP! Is the place hard to find! I mean, there’s a sign and everything but, it’s sort of obscured by a couple of trees plus, once you get there, the place really isn’t the place… it’s the back door; the front door is around back, where everybody else’s back door is found. So, anyway, enough complaining about location and entrances and such… once I figured out where I was going, manager Ryan Sears and the entire staff made me feel right at home. The club’s layout puts me in mind of such Saint Louis venues as Cicero’s and the Demo, as well as long-gone places like the Galaxy and the original Creepy Crawl; the sound is top notch, though there tends to be a certain amount of bleed and distortion, especially on the vocals, when you’re standing right in front of the stage and are hearing more monitor than house speakers. A minor complaint (I’ll get into one more a bit later in this review) that in no measurable way detracted from the show. And, what a show it was!

Fumer (Jennifer Tilly) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)
Fumer (Jennifer Tilly) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)

The opening band, Fumer, are Saint Louis originals. They’re kind of a hybrid beast – a classic rock mentality with a thrash metal stoner sheen; sorta like Led Zeppelin hooking up with Nirvana for a dust-up with Exciter. Guitarist and vocalist Joan Cusack sort of sneaks up on you, keeping the lead work tight, then shredding an ear-piercing solo that would make that one guy from that one band hang up his Gibson and retire; Rosie Perez (wait… is it just me, or do these names look vaguely familiar?) lays down an impossibly heavy groove, considering the size of his kit; Rosie’s partner in crime, Jennifer Tilly (hmmm… guess I was wrong about the names, huh? I mean, Jennifer Tilly isn’t a real thing, is it?), approaches his bass work in a suitably subtle fashion… akin to the subtle ax work utilized by Lizzy Borden on her parents. Tilly’s use of distortion to further enhance his already deep, rafter-shaking notes is, indeed, a thing of beauty. Unfortunately, Joan’s vocals were all but lost in the mix but, there was enough angst and emotion in his delivery to carry the set. The band’s latest release is called WE ALONE ARE DEATH ENOUGH and, the couple of songs I’ve been able to identify – “Water Song” and “Salesman” – come from there; it is available as a “name your own price” download on the trio’s Bandcamp page, as are their other two releases. Fumer were quite a surprise and a great way to kick off the evening. This just in: That one guy from that one band has announced his official retirement after listening to Fumer’s new record, issuing a prepared statement that said, “Though Joan Cusack doesn’t appear to have aged particularly well, he can still shred a ring around me. I quit!”

Battleme (JJ Eliot; Matt Dee) (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)
Battleme (JJ Eliot; Matt Dee) (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)

Eventually locating the entrance to the venue, the first people I ran into were the direct support (that’s the one that goes on right before the headliner), the Portland group Battleme. In one of my patented bonehead moves, I approached the guy who looked very much like Local H’s Scott Lucas (especially wearing sunglasses, as he was) and told him it was great to see him again after too long a time; in an odd coincidence that could only happen to me, the confusion was exacerbated when he said, “Hey… I’m Scott. But, I’ve never met you before.” Once I realized my mistake and they (hopefully) figured out that I was relatively harmless, I learned a bit about the guys and was even more psyched about this show. Battleme did not disappoint!

Battleme (Scott Noben; Chad Savage) (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)
Battleme (Scott Noben; Chad Savage) (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)

The Not-Local-H Scott (Noben) lays down an impressive beat, matched by his brother-in-rhythm, bassist Chad Savage, a Philthy Animal Taylor look-alike and possessor of the biggest hair in rock since the Melvins’ King Buzzo or the early (pre-Steve Perry) Journey version of Neil Schon; the duo is powerful – occasionally brutal – without ever losing their groove. About midway through the set, Noben did the unthinkable for a band like Battleme: He did a drum solo; even more unthinkable, the crowd went nuts as he pounded away. Guitarists JJ Eliot and Matt Dee (Drenik) slip some very tasty lead work and soloing in amidst the feedback and general noisy effects that permeates the band’s live sound. Matt’s frenetic stage machinations, understated modified folky vocal delivery and scraggly Pete-Townshend-on-a-bender looks is worth the price of admission alone. At one point, Drenik experienced some type of malfunction with his guitar (something other than a string breaking); in true “the show must go on” fashion, rather than stopping mid-song, he unplugged and simply danced (looking kinda like a spastic bull in a very small china shop) to the side of the stage during an Eliot solo before returning – guitarless – to the mic to finish the song. As the boys blasted through their set of supercharged tunes, highlighting the freshly-minted HABITUAL EP, it became quite obvious that they are the perfect lead in to the volatile Local H. Battleme aren’t interested in projecting an image; this is a band that is all about the show and the music. When you can catch the people on stage laughing at (and with) each other during a song, you cannot help but be drawn to them and feel a connection – a closeness – that you usually don’t sense from a band. Even though many in the audience were unfamiliar with Battleme’s music, by the end of their set, we all felt that kinship… a kinship that virtually guarantees a packed house the next time the quartet rolls into town.

Local H (Scott Lucas) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)
Local H (Scott Lucas) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)

If Fumer were the arsonists, setting a blaze from the stage, and Battleme came along, pouring fuel onto the slow smoldering embers, stoking the flames to the point they became out of control, then Local H were the resultant explosion that takes out an entire city block. The Not-Battleme-Scott would have seemed to be in a surly mood to anyone not familiar with his odd sense of humor (of which, more later); his feigned impatience at the sound guy and newish drummer, Ryan Harding, was more a product of nervous energy, as this was the first night of the duo’s HEY KILLER tour. The new album is well-represented in the new set, with eight of the eleven tunes being featured, including the record’s first track and the opening song of the live show, “The Last Picture Show In Zion,” a sprawling slab of guitar pyrotechnics and squall, forced to the edge of endurance by the manic drumming from Harding. From there, Lucas and Harding tore through a ninety-minute set that included such fan favorites as “All the Kids Are Right,” “Fritz’s Corner,” “Hand On the Bible” and “California Songs,” alongside “Gig Bag Road,” “Leon and the Game of Skin,” “John the Baptist Blues,” the self-depricating humor of “Mansplainer” and more new stuff from HEY KILLER. Of course, as generally happens at a Local H show, there were more than a few shouted requests for “High-Fiving Motherfucker” and “Eddie Vedder.” One particularly vociferous gentleman actually managed to get Scott’s attention, as he responded by telling him, “Well, now you’re never going to hear it. You’ve blown it for everybody… we’re not going to play it!” And, when they left the stage, the song remained unplayed. Here, too, is where I would like to mention another complaint… this one directed at the two louts – it’s this type of Neandethals that “High-Fiving… ” is written about – who decided they wanted to start a little pit action. That’s okay… no problem with that; what I do have a problem with is the fact that they decided that EVERYONE else should be involved in their frivolity. As I was at the front of the stage, shooting photos, my back was to the action; I was punched in the back of the head and pushed hard in the back, as were others – including a couple of young ladies – who just wanted to enjoy the show (I’m used to the general errant jostling that goes on in a pit, but for someone to directly target people who obviously wish to remain on the periphery is definitely not cool).

Local H (Ryan Harding) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)
Local H (Ryan Harding) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)

As things began to cool down on the floor, the band returned for an encore, though Scott spent more than 15 minutes proclaiming that the show was over, due in part to a lady near the front of the stage who was more interested in texting her friends than watching the show (before you get upset, the woman in question is an acquaintance of the band and Scott’s diatribe merely a send-up), as well as telling the crowd how great it felt to be back on the road, opening the tour at one of his favorite venues. Eventually, he did pick up his guitar and the duo ripped into the final HEY KILLER offering, “The Misanthrope.” With “Bound For the Floor,” the pit once again roiled behind us, but… we front row minions were hardly touched, as a group of very large gentlemen had formed a protective barrier, taking the brunt of the abuse. After a wicked “That’s What They All Say,” Lucas called a “troublemaker” up from the floor and told him to put his phone down and stand at the back of the stage until he was called upon (though the guy could hardly contain himself and tended to wander); with that, Scott and Ryan broke into a raging “High-Fiving Motherfucker.” I have a feeling that if he hadn’t been completely sick of hearing requests for “Eddie Vedder,” both songs would have remained unplayed. After Scott sang the first verse and chorus, he turned the microphone over to Mike (for that was his name) to finish the song; obviously nervous, Mike nevertheless acquitted himself quite well, actually and, now, has a story to tell his grandkids, when Scott Lucas and whatever drummer he’s playing with in thirty years show up for yet another gig at the Firebird.

Local H (Scott Lucas) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)
Local H (Scott Lucas) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)

It had been probably ten years since I last saw Local H (with the mighty Brian Saint Clair on drums… our thoughts and prayers are with you, buddy) and Scott and the new guy definitely held up their end of things. The show (even with the overly aggressive clowns in the pit – and, let me reiterate, it wasn’t the entire group… just two mooks who seriously need a crash course in pit etiquette) was a cut above; one might even say, “Epic.” The newer batch of songs nestled in nicely with fan favorites and radio hits and, while Scott’s voice sometimes sounds a bit hoarse, there are – thankfully – no apparent ill-effects from the injuries suffered in the 2013 mugging. If you haven’t seen them on this tour yet (or if you haven’t seen them in a while), make plans and get your tickets now; with Battleme along for the ride and Local H rejuvinated and tearing up the stage every night, you owe it to yourself.

SLEATER-KINNEY/THEESATISFACTION

(April 24, 2015; THE PAGEANT, Saint Louis MO)

Sleater-Kinney

So… what exactly happened on this beautiful, cool April evening in Saint Louis, within the jam-packed confines of the Pageant? Well, five outrageously talented musicians (six, actually, counting an auxiliary player, augmenting the furious noise of the headliners) – women – commanded the respect and attention of every single person in attendance. It was almost like a mini LILITH FAIR, but without the “we’re going to prove that we can rock as well as the boys, but in a more genteel girly-girl fashion, with lilacs in our hair and pansies on the stocks of our acoustic guitars.” These ladies had, all, proven that point years ago; no, they were here to rock. You gotta live in a cave, or – well, under a rock, if you haven’t figured out that women can rock every bit as hard as men (harder, in some respects)… always have; always will. After hearing more than one knucklehead make the comment that “they play pretty good for girls,” I just had to get that out of my system; I absolutely cannot believe that the subject is even up for debate anymore.

THEESatisfaction (Stasia Irons, Catherine Harris-White) (photo credit: KING TEXAS)
THEESatisfaction (Stasia Irons, Catherine Harris-White) (photo credit: KING TEXAS)

My butt was inside the venue thanks to the ladies of THEESatisfaction, who took pity on a lowly scribe and put him on their guest list. Choosing a Hip-Hop act to open for them may seem an odd choice for Sleater-Kinney and their punk roar – putting aside the fact that the two groups both call Sub Pop home – but, Catherine Harris-White and Stasia Irons (whose stage names are Cat and Stas) are kindred spirits with the trio… riot grrrls to the core. The duo’s music could best be described as Hawkwind-ian space-hippy synthesizers over some seriously funky beats; Cat and Stas both have great voices, with Stas handling the raps and, when they harmonize, you are magically transported back to Motown’s 1960s heyday. There’s also a bit of Supremes-style choreography going on (and, at one time, there was even a hint of some old O’Jays moves, showing love for the Philly soul movement, too). The tunes themselves were uplifting and empowering without being preachy: “Recognition,” from the recently released EARTHEE album; “Queens,” from its predecessor, AWE NATURALE; and the wickedly on-point “Bisexual,” from 2009’s SNOW MOTION release. Stas sent the latter out to “boys who like boys, girls who like girls, girls who like boys and boys who like girls.” The 45-minute set was well-received… I even saw a couple of older guys bobbing their heads and singing along to the newer songs. THEESatisfaction actually flew in from Nashville just a couple of hours before the show (their plane was late, forcing a scheduled in-store appearance at Vintage Vinyl to be delayed and cut short), leaving them little time to rest before taking the stage; as amazing as this performance was, I can only imagine the type of set they could have pulled off had they been well-rested.

Sleater-Kinney (Corin Tucker, Janet Weiss, Carrie Brownstein) (uncredited photo)
Sleater-Kinney (Corin Tucker, Janet Weiss, Carrie Brownstein) (uncredited photo)

After a thirty minute break, the reunited Sleater-Kinney took the stage in rather unassuming fashion, waving and smiling to the house. The demure entrance quickly turned into an explosion of noise and power, as Janet Weiss began pummeling her drum kit and the trio ripped into “Price Tag,” the opening salvo from the group’s new NO CITIES TO LOVE album. Corin Tucker’s harsh, sometimes grating vocal style plays well in this live setting and her rhythm guitar, tuned down to give the music a beefed up bottom-end, allows the extraordinary Carrie Brownstein to explore an almost experimental sound as lead guitarist. There are very few guitarists you can identify by tone and style alone; Brain May and Gary Richrath immediately come to mind. Now, after hearing Carrie play live, I would add her work to that short list. The jam-packed nineteen song main set, delivered at a fast and furious pace, left the group (which also included auxiliary player Katie Harkin) – and the crowd – very little time to catch their breath, as they ripped through new favorites and classic tunes, alike: “Bury Our Friends,” “I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone,” “Light Rail Coyote,” “Surface Envy,” “Oh,” “No Cities To Love” and “Ironclad,” among them; the five (!) song encore was kicked off with the syncopated groove of “Gimme Love,” one of the strongest tracks from the new record and the evening ended with THE WOODS’ “Modern Girl,” a jangly, power pop sort of thing… an odd but effective choice to end the show.

Sleater-Kinney (Carrie Brownstein, Corin Tucker, Janet Weiss) (uncredited photo)
Sleater-Kinney (Carrie Brownstein, Corin Tucker, Janet Weiss) (uncredited photo)

Before this night, I really wasn’t all that familiar with S-K’s music – as close I came had been Janet’s band, Quasi – but, the energy and overwhelming power of this trio has made me a fan. Tucker’s lead vocals (with the occasional Brownstein lead to keep things interesting) border on the sublime; Brownstein’s guitar heroics and on-stage histrionics add a touch of chaos to the magnificent din; and… what can I conceivably say about Weiss’ drumming? Watching her play, she seems to be more of a finesse percussionist but, her sound is as big (maybe bigger) as her idol, John Bonham (I believe he played in the Band of Joy and was part of Jimmy Page’s New Yardbirds). Even with that massive sound, she gives many of the band’s tunes an undeniable groove that’s reminiscent of Tony Thompson’s work with Chic and Power Station. Anyone who had any fears about Sleater-Kinney suffering from their ten year layoff can rest assured that they haven’t lost a beat; in fact, the time off (though each continued playing in other projects) seems to have reinvigorated the band, spurring them to new heights. I, for one, can’t wait to hear what’s next.

HERE COME THE MUMMIES/SUPERFUN YEAH YEAH ROCKETSHIP

(April 10, 2015; THE PAGEANT, Saint Louis MO)

Here Come the Mummies (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)
Here Come the Mummies (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)

Not exactly knowing what to expect from a band called Here Come the Mummies, I packed up the ol’ sarcophagus and lumbered across the mighty Mississippi (our very own version of the Nile) to see what the archaeologists had dug up down in Nashville (that is in Egypt, isn’t it?). I found myself rather surprised that the Mummies’ acolytes were a more… mature crowd than I had anticipated for a group with such a moniker. That didn’t mean that they were any less vociferous than the youngsters… I mean, there was rump-bumpin’ aplenty and the audience participation was unparallelled in the annals of the ancients. But… I proceed myself; let’s back things up to the beginning (of the show… not Genesis; just wanna be clear on that), shall we?

Superfun Yeah Yeah Rocketship (Correy Goodman; Christopher Eilers) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)
Superfun Yeah Yeah Rocketship (Correy Goodman; Christopher Eilers) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)

The comedic duo of Corey Goodman and Christopher Eilers – better known as Superfun Yeah Yeah Rocketship – took the stage, flanked by cardboard cut-outs of Fabio and a herd of hot dogs (a fourth wiener, Franklin, is missing and – though there have been no ransom demands – presumed to be held hostage) and, thus, a totally improbable evening of rock, pop, disco, ska and, yes, the funk of five thousand years was upon us. Between their familial in-joke bantering, local boys Corey and Christopher delivered some truly danceable and utterly outlandish doses of rock and roll, including “Throwin’ Up,” “Randy Savage,” and a stunningly obtuse cover of Tommy James and the Shondells’ “I Think We’re Alone Now.” Eilers delivered sheets of metallic riffing as Goodman’s apoplectic shenanigans and not-so-sly wink-and-a-nod lyrics virtually bulldozed the crowd into joining the frenzied frolic of the Rocketship’s forty minute flight… as if they weren’t already hyped in the extreme for what was yet to come. Superfun Yeah Yeah Rocketship proudly wave their influential flags high: Comic books (“Magneato,” “I Like Marvel, You Like DC”), professional wrestling (“Randy Savage,” “The Undertaker Joins the Avengers”), cheesy ’80s teen movies (“Totally Awesome,” “Throwin’ Up”). Yeah, they may an acquired taste but, like your Mom used to say when she wanted you to eat your Brussels sprouts, “How do you know you don’t like ’em if you don’t try ’em?” You can take Superfun Yeah Yeah Rocketship out for a test drive at their Bandcamp page, but… you gotta be quick, as their furious dance moves and hard-rocking tune-age may soon be swept up in an undercover vice raid!

Here Come the Mummies (Java) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)
Here Come the Mummies (Java) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)

After a surprisingly short intermission, the houselights dimmed and a martial drum coda permeated the electric crowd. This being my introduction to live Mummies (yes… I realize the dichotomy of that phrase), I assumed it was a recorded intro before the band took the stage; shortly, however, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye, as the group entered from the back of the venue like the percussion section of a marching band. The crowd erupted as the eight rotting players took to the boards, stage right, before ripping into one of the coolest intro tunes ever, “Carnal Carnival,” a funky New Orleans celebration of lust and death. Percussionist and head instigator Java, playing the demented ringmaster, stalked the stage, leering like a serial killer on a bloody bender. All I could think was, “This is even better than I thought it would be! Play that funky music, dead boy!” For the next 90 minutes, Here Come the Mummies had the Saint Louis faithful roiling and stewing in their own libidinous juices, with crowd favorites like the Mexican banda vibe of “Ra Ra Ra,” the hard rocking funk of “Single Double Triple,” the lonely-loin lament of “Everything But,” the barely disguised double entendre groove of “Booty” and “Attack of the Wiener Man,” and, of course, the Mummies’ mission statement and national anthem, “Freak Flag.”

Here Come the Mummies (Mummy Cass) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)
Here Come the Mummies (Mummy Cass) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)

The music of Here Come the Mummies, like that of His Purple Majesty, is littered with sexual innuendo and sweaty crotch-thrusting that borders on the misogynistic. If I had to describe them in one sentence, I would say, “Imagine George Clinton and James Brown had a bunch of 5,000 year old funky dead babies.” While the music is awesome, it takes a back seat to the stage show, with its manic pace and Motown-on-crack choreography coupled with a brilliant use of lighting and smoke effects. Guitarist and primary vocalist, Mummy Cass, gets the funk out with Princely rhythm work and, while he may not be the reincarnation of Eddie Hazel, he definitely embodies the equally late and great Gary Shider. In other words, the ol’ carcass can PLAY! The horn section (BB Queen on trumpet, The Flu handling the baritone sax and Mummy Rah blowing tenor sax and shaking that trunk-fulla-junk that Mama Mummy gave him) is loose and funky at times, tight as a military corner at others; the soloing is soulful, highlighting the individual player’s creativity and obvious (if unstated) musical pedigree. And… did we mention the dance moves? Most mummies I know can’t move like that!

Here Come the Mummies (BB Queen, The Flu, Spaz, Mummy Rah) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)
Here Come the Mummies (BB Queen, The Flu, Spaz, Mummy Rah) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)

The rhythm section displayed some pretty nice moves themselves. We already introduced you to vocalist, percussionist and maker-of-mischief, Java; when he’s not out front, inciting the crowd, or leading his fellow Mummies in another syncopated dance routine, he handles a variety of percussion instruments that aren’t part of a standard drum kit, including – naturally – the cowbell; at one point, he strapped a mallet and cowbell to his waist, showing his… uh… musical acumen via a series of pelvic thrusts. Eddie Mummy is the powerhouse that keeps time, never missing a back-beat or a vocal part; Eddie’s drumming is the epitome of jazzy precision and funky hard rock fills. The Pole, whose deep-in-the-pocket groove is in monstrous lockstep with Eddie, stalks the stage, letting his sonorous Bootsy-like bass “trombipulation” do his talking for him. Keyboard player Spaz fills every conceivable sonic void with everything from a classic piano or organ sound to varying blips and bloops and synthesizer noodles; he earns bonus points for not looking like a Jonathan Cain-type idjit when he joins the others at the front of the stage with keytar in hand.

Here Come the Mummies (The Pole) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)
Here Come the Mummies (The Pole) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)

Obviously, this is a group who, while having honed their craft to a razor’s edge, don’t take anything too seriously. Except the funk and grind and, of course, delivering a butt-shakin’ good time every time they take the stage. As I mentioned in the intro, this is my first Here Come the Mummies experience… it will not be my last!

Here Come the Mummies (Eddie Mummy) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)
Here Come the Mummies (Eddie Mummy) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)

LOOT ROCK GANG: THAT’S WHY I’VE GOT TO SING

(BIG MUDDY RECORDS; 2014)

Loot Rock Gang album cover

Germination of a record review: The reviewer, with time to kill, visits a legendary Saint Louis record shop; of course, while there, the reviewer is on the look-out for new and interesting releases – especially from local artists – to write about… sometimes, it’s just an interesting cover. Imagine the above cover staring back at you as a glorious 12” by 12” album sleeve… a real live slab of vinyl. I was mesmerized… I had to hear this music! So, what’s the next step? Contacting the record label (or the artist) to request a copy for review. Then, it was just a matter of playing the waiting game, counting the days until that special package arrived at my doorstep. Naturally, there’s always the off-chance that the cover belies the musical talents of the artist and… well… the music sucks to high Heaven (believe me, boys and girls, I’ve been burned by a great cover many times playing this game). Thankfully, though the musical style was really something totally unexpected, I can tell you that in this instance, cover and material mesh perfectly. So, here’s the skinny on THAT’S WHY I’VE GOT TO SING:

Loot Rock Gang (Mat Wilson, Little Rachel, Kellie Everett, Stephen Inman) (uncredited photo)
Loot Rock Gang (Mat Wilson, Little Rachel, Kellie Everett, Stephen Inman) (uncredited photo)

The music of Loot Rock Gang, written by vocalist Mat Wilson (who adds acoustic resonator guitar to his LRG resume), encompasses a wide range of styles, all rooted in the deep heritage of the Blues and Americana. Likewise, the group’s instrumental configuration – Wilson is joined by his wife, Little Rachel on harmony and backing vocals, Stephen Inman on upright bass and, taking most leads and solos, Kellie Everett on the baritone sax (with help from Ryan Koenig on percussion, mandolin and harmonica) – hearkens back to a bygone era in American musical history. “Loot Rock Boogie,” a theme song of sorts for the band, gets the record off to a rip-roaring start. It’s kind of a dirty throwback to those great B-grade teen exploitation movies from the ’50s and early ’60s. The ancient rock ‘n’ jive continues on “Road To Burn,” a stompin’ good time boogie with a great baritone sax solo from Everett. The titular song, a Western swing kinda thing, features the Gang’s mission statement: “Just can’t help it/That’s why I’ve got to sing.” Next up is “Full Moon Cataluna,” a drowsy ballad with some nice pickin’ from Wilson and beautiful harmony vocals from Rachel. “Happy Boy To Be Your Man” is kind of a small band version of Squirrel Nut Zippers’ updated take on the Hot Jazz scene of the 1930s. The call and response duet vocals and upright piano (supplied by guest artist Chris Baracevic) add a distinctive flair. “Bank Despair” is a slow cookin’ hillbilly boogie-woogie number, the kind of tune that coulda ended up as a production number in a ’30s or ’40s comedy.

Loot Rock Gang (Kellie Everett, Little Rachel, Mat Wilson, Stephen Inman, Ryan Koenig) (uncredited photo)
Loot Rock Gang (Kellie Everett, Little Rachel, Mat Wilson, Stephen Inman, Ryan Koenig) (uncredited photo)

As dichotomous as the assertion sounds, “Better ‘Bout You” is a howling harmonica honk with a down-home Southern Gospel feel. “Won’t Get Lost” has a classic rock vibe but, the traditional swing instrumentation turns it into something uniquely Loot Rock Gang. The ’50s style rocker “My Gal Friday” channels a ’30s Western jump vibe. A skittering guitar leads the strolling waltz of “The Wrong Kind,” a number highlighted by particularly effective vocals. “Love For My City” is the sound of a small jazz combo performing a country stomp in honor of their hometown, the StL. The song “It’s You That I Do Enjoy” features a rather odd vocal and comes off as a weird homage to the original AMERICAN BANDSTAND theme song. “Trinidad,” as the name implies, has a wistful Caribbean vibe with a beautiful guitar intro and outro. Various Gang members have played and toured with kindred spirit Pokey LaFarge, honing their already razor-sharp talents to the pinpoint brilliance displayed on THAT’S WHY I’VE GOT TO SING, a debut that definitely bodes well for the future of the diverse Saint Louis music scene in general and Loot Rock Gang in particular. I, for one, cannot wait for the next chapter in this band’s story. I’m sure it’ll be a blast! For now, though, you can listen to and purchase THAT’S WHY… in your choice of CD, vinyl or digital formats at the group’s Bandcamp page.

IN SEARCH OF THE COSMIC SNAUSAGE: THE GREG MCCRARY INTERVIEW

PART ONE: AN INTRODUCTION (OR, HOW THIS THING ACTUALLY CAME ABOUT)

Greg McCrary creates a unique piece for a fan (uncredited photo)
Greg McCrary creates a unique piece for a fan (uncredited photo)

Sometime after Jeremy and I launched the Mule, we wandered into Star Clipper, a great little comics shop in the Delmar Loop in the University City area of Saint Louis. As fate would have it, there were several members of the creative consortium called Ink and Drink plying their wares out front, as was their wont at least one Saturday a month. We left them our contact info and… didn’t hear anything from them. Fast forward to late December, 2014 and another visit to the Clipper. This time, the sole representative of the comics guys was Greg McCrary, creator, writer and artist of the wildly insane LASER DOG. I cornered him (actually, I walked up to his table and introduced myself) and told him that we were interested in doing a piece on the local scene. He was stoked… I was stoked and, after a couple of small bumps in the road (from both of us), we decided that e-mailing our questions and answers would be the quickest, most efficient way to introduce you to the creative side of the Saint Louis comic book scene. Somewhere in there, Greg mentions that he’ll sell you a copy of LASER DOG if you see him on the street; that’s true. In fact, he’ll draw an entire LASER DOG strip on your arm if you ask him to… that’s how much he loves to draw and create. Ya gotta like a guy like that. Oh, and in case you were wondering, the other guys of Ink and Drink are insanely talented, too. You can check ’em out here: inkanddrinkcomics.com.

PART TWO: THE INTERVIEW (OR, THE RESULTS OF PART ONE)

An original Laser Dog piece (art by GREG MCCRARY)
An original Laser Dog piece (art by GREG MCCRARY)

THE MULE: LASER DOG is like a sci-fi free for all – a little loopy, with a bizarre sense of humor, and yet, there’s plenty there to make you think… little social commentaries rolled into the story and art. Where did the idea for LASER DOG come from?

GREG: The very idea of Laser Dog manifested itself while I was at work. I used to work at Six Flags, drawing caricatures and, during the later years, my time there was quite mind numbing, boring. On one particular day, my co-worker, a very talented artist, Harrison Weathers, was requested by a patron of the park to draw a caricature of her dog from her phone. So, Harry does so and when he was finished, the lady very much enjoyed the picture and paid and left happily. When she left, I turned to Harry and told him, “that drawing was terrible… ” Which he replied, “Yeah, I know. I’m going to try that again.” As he was beginning to draw his second attempt of a caricature dog, it was pretty much turning out to look exactly the same as the first drawing. Harry noticed this as well and gave up prematurely before filling in the eyes. When I saw the empty void in the drawing of that dog’s eyes, it hit me like a kick in the nuts. “It looks like lasers should be coming out of those eyes,” I proclaimed out loud. And, from there, my body took over and colored what has come to be known as LASER DOG. The other co-workers and I were instantly obsessed and we all relentlessly began to draw and write our very own stories of Laser Dog. However, I was the only one out of all of us who was dedicated/insane enough to follow through and make a comic about our obsession, created out of our maddening boredom. (That was very long… sorry.)

THE MULE: Were you one of those kids in school? The one that was always getting in trouble for doodling and drawing and making fart noises to make the other kids laugh?

GREG: I actually don’t recall being that disruptive or getting in that much trouble during my elementary and high school years. Although, I don’t think my teachers were entertained by the idea of me doodling during their lectures. But, I felt that I actually focused more while I was drawing and I listen better, believe it or not. But, I was definitely the wise cracking rascal out of the group and I still do make a fool of myself and love to hear people laugh at my expense.

LASER DOG, ISSUE ONE (cover art by GREG MCCRARY)
LASER DOG, ISSUE ONE (cover art by GREG MCCRARY)

THE MULE: Okay… here’s the major question: What breed of pooch is the cosmic hound? I’m getting the scent of a pekingese or, maybe, a bichon frise.

GREG: Well, Laser Dog is Everything. And yet, he is Nothing. So, I always say that he is Every Breed of Dog. And yet, he is No Breed of Dog (pretty much any question about Laser Dog can be answered through this motto).

THE MULE: You self-publish LASER DOG. What types of obstacles have you encountered with that DIY approach, if any? Conversely, what advantages are there to publishing the book yourself?

GREG: I think the biggest obstacle you face as an indie comic is the budget. I’m responsible for paying for everything so, unfortunately, I can’t print as many as I or the consumer may want. But as far as the benefits, there’s not much pressure. No “real” deadlines and I get the final say. Although, not putting deadlines on your project could also leave you to some serious procrastination.

LASER DOG, ISSUE ONE (page 7, by GREG MCCRARY)
LASER DOG, ISSUE ONE (page 7, by GREG MCCRARY)

THE MULE: There is so much happening in your layouts and art. I was concerned that the digest size may not do your work justice. However, after seeing the first issue digitally at webtoons.com, those scenes just seem to jump off the page… uh… the screen. In a perfect world, what medium does Greg McCrary feels best suits the free-wheeling style of LASER DOG?

GREG: I always imagined it as a comic, but honestly Laser Dog is very versatile. I can see it in any medium: web comic, animation, live action movie/TV show, whatever. And I encourage anyone who wants to see that happen to go ahead and do it. Laser Dog is a free marked; anyone is encouraged to make their own comic, oil painting or marble bust for Lasy-D. Laser Dog is like life, you can’t own it or take possession of him. You can only participate with Laser Dog and I welcome anyone to do so.

LASER DOG, ISSUE ONE (page 14, by GREG MCCRARY)
LASER DOG, ISSUE ONE (page 14, by GREG MCCRARY)

THE MULE: The covers are amazing pieces of art, as well. How do you feel about coloring the inner pages? Do you prefer leaving the inside of the books black and white?

GREG: Well, once again, this goes with budgeting mainly. It just makes more sense that I do black and white because it’s the cheapest and most affordable. I can see LASER DOG benefiting in color; however, black and white is all I can afford. But I love gray-scaling and working with black and white, so it doesn’t bother me too much. But, I can totally understand some people wanting some more visceral stimulation.

LASER DOG, ISSUE TWO (cover art by GREG MCCRARY)
LASER DOG, ISSUE TWO (cover art by GREG MCCRARY)

THE MULE: You’ve published two issues of LASER DOG and a third issue (the conclusion to the heart-stopping two-parter, “The Legion of Mullets”) is imminent. So, where does a fella pick up his very own copy of LASER DOG?

GREG: Well, you could have picked it up at Star Clipper. But, unfortunately, they’re going out of business, so you can only get a copy there before February 7th. I’ll find several locations to sell out of later this month, but you can order issue one or two on indyplanet.com and if you see me on the street, just holler at me and I’m sure I’ll have a copy for you.

LASER DOG, ISSUE ONE (page 22, by GREG MCCRARY)
LASER DOG, ISSUE ONE (page 22, by GREG MCCRARY)

THE MULE: Tell us a bit about your background and other projects. What drives Greg McCrary to do the things he does?

GREG: I graduated from Meramec Community College with an associate degree in Graphic Communications. I drew caricatures out at Six Flags for six years. I really honed my skills working out there, learning the art of exaggeration from a lot of great artists. So, a lot of my influences come from caricature artists: Joe Bluhm, Jeremy Townsend (aka Jert), Tomokazu Tabata. My earliest influence is Genndy Tartakovsky; DEXTER’S LAB definitely was a big deal in my childhood. But, later comic influence goes to SCUD; I love the character designs and the flow of the story and the paneling. But, as far as what drives me to draw, it’s nothing I can pin point. It’s almost as natural as breathing, I just need to do it (it’s more bordering on a curse or a compulsion). But I love drawing. I would die without my art.

LASER DOG, ISSUE ONE (page 23, by GREG MCCRARY)
LASER DOG, ISSUE ONE (page 23, by GREG MCCRARY)

THE MULE: There’s a small cadre of comic book creators in the Saint Louis area. Do you get together, like a support group, to work out ideas and collaborate on projects?

GREG: I’m a part of the group Ink and Drink. We get together and try to produce a comic twice a year. I sometimes get with friends and try to collaborate on a comic, either coloring or doing a cover or helping on backgrounds.

THE MULE: Aside from LASER DOG 3, what can we expect to see from you in the next few months?

GREG: I’m not sure if it will come in the months soon to come but, I’m working on two projects with a couple of friends that will hopefully be printed within the not too distant future. Marie Enger will be helping me out on a comic I’m making called SKITZO. It’s a POKE’MON clone type story, but it’s centered around schizophrenics who battle their illusions instead of creatures. And, I’m writing a story for my buddy, Michael Minter (aka Makuto) to draw. It’s called “Into the Dark.” It’s about a world of magic and three sorcerers that try to master the science that makes up the magic of that world.

LASER DOG, ISSUE ONE (page 24, by GREG MCCRARY)
LASER DOG, ISSUE ONE (page 24, by GREG MCCRARY)

THE MULE: Finally… what, exactly, is LASER DOG LIVE and where can one catch a performance of the same?

GREG: LASER DOG LIVE was an interpretive dance/show, based on the first issue of LASER DOG that my friend, Caitlin Hafer, put on in San Francisco. It was quite a show. Unfortunately, it was only a two night event. There are no plans for a World Wide Tour (at least, not yet). You can take a look at the performance on YouTube if you type in “Laser Dog Live” or, you can look it up on the Laser Dog Facebook page. I have it posted on the wall.

THE MULE: Thanks, Greg, for the peak inside your vast cranial cavity and for the insight into the world of LASER DOG.

GREG: Thanks for your interest in LASER DOG and… never forget: Laser Dog is everything. And yet, he is nothing…

LASER DOG, ISSUE ONE in-house ad (by GREG MCCRARY)
LASER DOG, ISSUE ONE in-house ad (by GREG MCCRARY)

WHAT’S IT TO ME, ANYWAY?: THE 25 ALBUMS THAT MOST INFLUENCED MY LIFE, PART 2

(Ruminations of a music junkie, by KEVIN RENICK)

It’s interesting how certain albums come to mean so much to you, the longer you are an active music fan. From 1976 to 1979, I worked at a major record store, which increased my access to all kinds of new and upcoming artists. I also began to read music magazines obsessively, so I was able to follow the music scene really attentively. Hundreds and hundreds of albums crossed my path during that time and beyond. I went to college from 1980 to 1983, and that, too, brought a ton of new artists into my life. So-called “new wave” music ruled at that time, with artists such as Elvis Costello, the English Beat, the Clash, the Cars and many more finding favor among people I hung out with, and my friend Tina Carl and I began trading and sharing and even dancing to a lot of the music at that time. There was so much stuff I loved, but the sheer volume of it probably prevented most of it from becoming INFLUENTIAL. And that is my focus here: what were the albums that actively, in a meaningful way, became an influence on my life and creative journey? So, here is part two of that list of 25, carrying us from the late 70s to the present…

14. TALKING HEADS: FEAR OF MUSIC and REMAIN IN LIGHT (tie)

FEAR OF MUSIC (SIRE RECORDS, 1979); REMAIN INLIGHT (SIRE RECORDS, 1980)
FEAR OF MUSIC (SIRE RECORDS, 1979); REMAIN INLIGHT (SIRE RECORDS, 1980)

This is the second time I am cheating by calling a TIE between two albums. I pretty much HAVE to, because each of these albums by the New York new wave group fronted by David Byrne was HUGE for me. FEAR OF MUSIC came out while I worked at Record Bar, in the summer. It was an amazing piece of work, quirky as hell, rhythmically unique and heavily atmospheric. Songs like “Air,” “Cities,” “Animals,” “Drugs” and the new wave dance anthem “Life During Wartime” were like catnip for my ever-growing interest in offbeat music. And the hypnotic piece “Mind” became the unofficial breakup song for me and that girl who looked like Joni Mitchell. I loved this band, and the fact they were produced by my new hero, Brian Eno, was a bonus. But the following year, while I was attending Webster University, the incomparable REMAIN IN LIGHT came out. Influenced by African high life music, and featuring Eno again as producer and even co-writer of many of the tracks, this was just a full-on masterpiece of innovative modern rock. I absolutely went gaga over it, and “Once In A Lifetime” remains, to this day, one of the most instantly captivating weird songs ever recorded. Topping things off, MTV was becoming a going concern, showcasing this new “music video” art form to a fast-growing, interested public, and the Heads’ video for this song got huge attention. My friend Ted Moniak and I also discussed this album at length in college, and I remember him taking a long verse from the song “Crosseyed and Painless”, and writing the lyrics on a piece of paper which he posted on a door in the theatre conservatory to make a point. These were major, heady days of music listening for me, always intense, always communal. REMAIN IN LIGHT is truly one of the greatest and most interesting albums of all time, and that coincided with it being influential for me in its awesome creativity, its often dark and globally inclusive mood, and a palpable sense of ALL things truly being possible now. It made me want to learn about ethnic music, and my mind just kept opening more and more…

15. NICK DRAKE: FIVE LEAVES LEFT

FIVE LEAVES LEFT (ISLAND RECORDS, 1969)
FIVE LEAVES LEFT (ISLAND RECORDS, 1969)

I didn’t know anything about Nick Drake when he was alive and making music (1969-1974). It was some years later that I learned about him through my friend, Ted. The doomed British singer/songwriter, who died at the age of 24 either through suicide or an accidental drug overdose (theories differ on that), was an instantly compelling new “find” for me. Nick always sounded like he was apart from the rest of humanity, a lonesome figure who couldn’t fit in and related more to nature and quiet moments than anything else. I probably identified a little too much with this, I have to say. FIVE LEAVES LEFT was his first album, and it’s one of the best debut albums ever. I love every song on it; “Time Has Told Me,” the gorgeous “River Man,” “Cello Song” and “Fruit Tree” are just a few of the timeless, intimate songs on this album. I began performing “River Man” as a musician myself some years later; the mood of isolation combined with a deep reverence and connection to nature, was a recurring and potent theme in Nick’s music. Also, the way his career never took off (fame eluded him during his lifetime; it took a clever Volkswagen commercial using his song “Pink Moon” to catapult him to real fame after his death) and the aching solitude made me start thinking much more about the uncertainties of being an artist and the pain of being perhaps too sensitive. This is essential singer/songwriter stuff, and will likely always be one of my top 10 albums of all time.

16. BRIAN ENO: ON LAND

ON LAND (EG RECORDS, 1982)
ON LAND (EG RECORDS, 1982)

I already covered Eno’s album DISCREET MUSIC, which found him inventing a new kind of music that baffled many listeners and critics at the time. And in 1979, he basically announced ambient music as an “official” new genre with the release of MUSIC FOR AIRPORTS, labeled as “Ambient 1” in his new series at the time. That album was influential, for sure, but 1982’s ON LAND was so far ahead of the game in this genre, so much farther than his own DISCREET MUSIC, in fact, that in a way, my life instantly changed right then and there. If DISCREET MUSIC had made me feel like dreams had come to life, ON LAND recreated the experience of being lost in nature, and thinking about the most private and long-gone of memories while doing so. It was a series of rather lengthy pieces with titles such as “Lizard Point,” “The Lost Day,” “Lantern Marsh” and “Unfamiliar Wind,” all of which were made in such a mysterious process that almost no recognizable instruments appeared on them. Eno had traveled deeply into new, mysterious musical territory, and in these heady days before the internet, finding albums like this and maybe, just MAYBE encountering another human being who liked it, made you part of a cult in a way. I was utterly, utterly shocked and amazed that an album like ON LAND, which vividly captured the way I felt when I was out in nature, watching birds and feeling the glorious solitude of my surroundings, could exist. I had literally never been so affected by an album before, and I went a little nuts. I started collecting every article and review of Eno I could find, even compiling a scrapbook. More significantly, I decided I had to write to Brian Eno himself and express my admiration. It was a crazy, bold impulse, but I was unstoppable; I wrote about a 25-page letter to Mister Eno telling him about how I had long dreamed of a kind of cinematic, pastoral music that would evoke landscapes and the mysteries of life, and how in awe I was that HE had single-handedly created this music. Late in 1982, one day when I was at Webster University, I was flabbergasted when Eno answered my letter. He was warmly appreciative of my enthusiasm, hand-wrote a 3-page letter to me, and shared some of his thoughts about this bold new music that was happening. We corresponded several times, and it was a highlight of my life. It’s possible that ON LAND is, in fact, the MOST influential album of my life, it depends on how you want to measure these things. But the way this album combined many of my interests, veered sharply into unknown and haunting new sonic territory and carried with it an entire new philosophy about recorded musical art, was to change the big picture for me forever. And the time I played it on my car stereo at sunrise while driving into the Grand Canyon National Park, is one of the most unforgettable listening experiences of my entire life.

17. COCTEAU TWINS: VICTORIALAND

VICTORIALAND (4AD RECORDS, 1991)
VICTORIALAND (4AD RECORDS, 1991)

Ah, the Cocteau Twins. Their fans sigh and swoon at the mere mention of this so-called “shoegaze” band (a lousy label that some critic made famous, even though none of the dreamy sounding bands saddled with that label could stand it). You’re lucky in life if you meet friends who introduce you to some new band that goes on to really affect you, a band you might not have encountered otherwise. That was the case with my first introduction to this ethereal Scottish trio. Liz Fraser, the sublimely gifted female singer who fronted the band, sang like no one else EVER, not even singing understandable lyrics until the last years of the band. Instead, fans were treated to wailing, intoning, swooping and soaring, shiver-inducing tones and unearthly vocal bursts that were uncategorizable. With her partner at the time, Robin Guthrie, who conjured one of the most recognizable and groundbreaking painterly guitar sounds to ever come along, the Cocteau Twins (joined by bassist Simon Raymonde on most of their albums) earned in instant cult following with their visionary sonic palette. Many of their albums are now considered classics, but VICTORIALAND, a largely acoustic and sparsely played recording, has some of their most singularly beautiful moments. It’s music that is not easy to describe. In many ways, it is ambient, because Liz Fraser does not sing understandable lyrics, and the overall mood, a haunted one, is what you respond to most. The music is wintery, solemn and desolately beautiful, filled with mystery and destinations unknown. Some friends and I listened to it one day while we were all sprawled out on the floor together at a party, in a totally receptive mood. There was a sense of discovery at this time in the mid 80s that was magical, and by the time the internet came along and music like this was analyzed and discussed to death by countless pundits, some of that mystery went away. But the Cocteaus’ powerful music endures (though they disbanded in the late 90s), and Robin Guthrie is now a prominent ambient musician and soundtrack composer, continuing the awesome legacy of this pioneering band.

How it influenced me: By proving that truly wondrous music could render lyrics irrelevant, by emphasizing mystery over almost everything else, by demonstrating that a female voice could power a kind of “new form of ambient,” and by partially inspiring me to start writing my first novel, a story about a girl who worshipped this band, and happens to get embroiled in a supernatural murder mystery. Not sure if the novel will get finished or not, but if it does, I am contacting Robin Guthrie to compose the score.

18. REM: AUTOMATIC FOR THE PEOPLE

AUTOMATIC FOR THE PEOPLE (WARNER BROTHERS RECORDS, 1992)
AUTOMATIC FOR THE PEOPLE (WARNER BROTHERS RECORDS, 1992)

This Athens, Georgia band became heroic in the ’90s for their status as one of the ultimate college bands and for helping to create the very notion of what “indie rock” meant. Michael Stipe had a unique, stylish approach to vocals (in the early days he utilized a kind of beguiling mumble), and there was something about the SOUND of these guys that was able to keep growing an audience year after year. “Losing My Religion” became their most classic song, but in 1992, they released AUTOMATIC FOR THE PEOPLE, an evocative song cycle about loss, change and disillusionment. Three of my favorite themes! This was an autumnal album, one that I played constantly and featured regularly on road trips with a couple of friends. It was conceptually solid, deeply moving and strangely comforting. I reacted most to the melancholy songs like “Try Not to Breathe” (a painful song about an old person’s last moments), “Sweetness Follows” (heartbreaking song, with potent cello playing, about the aftermath of a death in a family) “Nightswimming” and a personal favorite, “Find the River.” This album made me cry a few times, and I have to mention in particular that the song “Sweetness Follows,” a truly haunting piece, was something I listened to on the fateful day I found out that a close friend, and the founder of a publication I had written for, was killed in a horrible car accident coming home from Chicago. I was on the highway the same day, maybe an hour behind her, and didn’t find out ’til the next day what happened. It was a huge, tragic event. There were many upbeat REM songs, and I had fun growing with them album after album for almost 30 years. But it was their softer, more intimate songs that ultimately affected me the most. I don’t play this album that often because it brings back some painful memories, but it definitely had an impact.

19. PETE NAMLOOK: AIR 2

AIR 2 (WORLD AMBIENT RECORDS, 2002)
AIR 2 (WORLD AMBIENT RECORDS, 2002)

Considering that most non-aficionados consider “ambient” to be nothing more than background music, something probably with repetitive droning or tinkly keyboards and not much variety, it’s a huge surprise to discover that there’s actually a HUGE diversity of sounds and approaches in the world of ambient releases. That topic will be discussed in depth another time on this site, but I have to include a Pete Namlook album on my list because Pete, like Eno, created an entire world of ambient releases. He launched a private German record label called Fax in the early 90s, and began releasing limited-edition recordings that became collectors items fairly quickly. The releases spanned the musical spectrum from straight ambient to stuff heavy on beats to weird experimental things to jazz stylings and beyond. Fax fans were challenged by all this and discussed Pete’s work on several key websites. One of the best pairs of ambient recordings on Fax was the first two volumes in a series called AIR. These were meant to be expansive, “ethno-ambient” projects that included instrumentation far beyond mere drones and keyboards. AIR 2, in particular, was a spectacular album. It’s hard to even describe, because it constantly changes, from hypnotic travelogue soundscape (with subtle rhythms) to breezy synth to chanted middle-eastern sounding vocals to glassy, wind chimey stuff and more. “Traveling Without Moving” is the subtitle of the work overall, but it is so filled with diversity, and so enthralling to listen to while driving, that it became a personal landmark for me. I played the entire thing in my car while driving in the mountains of Colorado one evening, with some dangerous conditions happening, and it was one of the most amazing cinematic experiences of my life. This is real musical art, raising the notion of “ambient to a much, much higher level.”

How it influenced me: By creating a bold, fascinating new vision of what ambient could be, and by allowing me to lure friends and other newbies into the ambient “fold” by providing a stellar, immersive and unforgettable listening experience.

20. RADIOHEAD: OK COMPUTER

OK COMPUTER (CAPITOL RECORDS, 1997)
OK COMPUTER (CAPITOL RECORDS, 1997)

Radiohead took the music world by storm with this album. It seemed to come out of nowhere, and it was said to be an epic meditation on millennial angst and the growing encroachment of technology in our lives (with the subsequent alienation we were sure to face). I was utterly enthralled with this recording; it really did achieve some sort of pinnacle of creativity for a rock album. Having always loved high, emotive male voices, Thom Yorke’s singing on stunning tracks like “Paranoid Android,” “Subterranean Homesick Alien,” “Let Down,” and “Lucky” was spine-tingling, and the arrangements (and production by Nigel Goodrich) maximized the emotional impact. I listened to this one over and over; it was a thoroughly modern rock masterpiece that took me back to the days of listening to Pink Floyd, Yes and the Moody Blues when I was a teen. The underlying anxiety about the future and the ups and downs that were soon to come with the pervasiveness of the internet and other technologies, were deeply ingrained in the musical aesthetic of this record.

How it influenced me: By announcing a new candidate for “Best group in the world,” showcasing powerful new songwriting and arrangements in a neo-prog rock idiom, and reminding me clearly of the power of writing music that echoed the times and tried to make people think and feel about our fate as humans.

21. THE DOMINO KINGS: LIFE AND 20

LIFE AND 20 (SLEWFOOT RECORDS, 2000)
LIFE AND 20 (SLEWFOOT RECORDS, 2000)

This is the only Missouri album on my list, and at this writing, it is out of print, sadly. The trio of guitarist Steve Newman, upright bassist Brian Capps and drummer Les Gallier, based in Springfield, play roots music that blends barroom country and early rock and roll into a snappy, lively formula that is a genuine pleasure to listen to. But that’s not why the album is on my list. It’s here because the album came out when I was an active music journalist for a publication called NOISYPAPER, and I was assigned to review a show by the Domino Kings. I met Brian Capps and struck up a friendship with him. Just a few years later, when I saw Brian in concert again, I was about to endure one of the most painful relationship breakups of my entire life, and Brian’s songs not only served as a bit of a soundtrack for this period, they made me want to dance through the heartache. The Kings were (and still ARE) crack musicians, capable of playing the kind of alcohol-fueled, lost-at-love rave-ups that patrons have been dancing to and enjoying for years. On this album, the Capps tunes “Borrow A Lie,” “Alice” (a wickedly catchy stomper about a bad, bad woman), “Don’t Be Indifferent” and “Steppin’ Out Again” all deal with the kind of women and relationships that tear a man’s soul apart. As this happened to me at the end of 2003 and the first part of 2004, I got to hear Brian Capps perform live several times, with most of these tunes in the mix. And he was kind enough to discuss relationships with me and tell me his own stories of romantic woe. Very cathartic and significant. Additionally, the Kings’ music increased my awareness that Springfield, Missouri was a center of musical vitality. Not far in my future at this point was a deep connection and involvement in that city that would affect my own music career dramatically.

22. EPHEMERA: BALLOONS AND CHAMPAGNE

BALLOONS AND CHAMPAGNE (EPHEMERA MUSIC, 2002)
BALLOONS AND CHAMPAGNE (EPHEMERA MUSIC, 2002)

It’s funny how one little action can end up leading to something much bigger, something you couldn’t predict. By 2002, I was working at an advertising agency, getting into the groove of internet communication and browsing, and trying to learn about new music and discover new things. I had read a few things about Norwegian music, just sort of casually, and I ended up purchasing a CD called THIS IS NORWAY on impulse. It was a compilation of Norwegian pop and rock bands, and there was a track by a band called Ephemera on there. I had never heard of them, and knew nothing about them. The song, “Last Thing,” featured several female singers offering beautiful, tight vocal harmonies, and unusually crystalline keyboards and production. It stood out, and I wanted to know more about this group. Nothing by them was available in the US, but I ordered this album, BALLOONS AND CHAMPAGNE. Lordy. It so far exceeded anything I could have expected, that it’s hard to put into words. It was like realizing your eyes have been impaired for a long time, causing you to never see certain details, and then being given a pair of stunning new glasses that brighten up the entire world, with colors, details and landscapes you were never aware of appearing vividly before you. The three women of Ephemera – Christine Sandtorv, Ingerlise Storksen and Jannicke Larsen – are singer/songwriters of peerless, diamond-pure talent. Since I have an interview with Ingerlise pending, I’ll save most of my thoughts for that piece. But I was bowled over by this magical trio from the start, and they are one of my absolute favorite musical groups in the world. On BALLOONS AND CHAMPAGNE, tracks such as “Act,” “Air,” “Bye” and the title track are such heartbreakingly beautiful, with emotive, delicate singing and a level of purity that I had almost never heard on an American record. I love literally every song this band has recorded, and I came to the conclusion early on that they don’t really know how good they are. They are some kind of magical musical goddesses that simply do what they do, and trust that some people will like it. Ephemera opened up a new world to me, the world of Scandinavian pop music, which I would, within a year, be writing about regularly for a couple of different publications. They actually changed the way I LISTEN to music, because after absorbing the beauty of their vocals and the genius production techinques of their producer, Yngve Saetre, I could no longer respond the same way to typical American pop records. Here’s how passionately in love I am with Ephemera’s music. If there was a fire or a coming tornado, and I could only save a limited number of CDs from my collection, I’d grab an armful of ambient CDs and then use my other hand to grab my small stack of Ephemera CDs. They have been a HUGE, huge influence, and when I became a musician, I kept their intimate vocals in mind at all times as I advanced in my own career.

23. DANIELSON FAMILE: TELL ANOTHER JOKE AT THE OL’ CHOPPIN’ BLOCK

TELL ANOTHER JOKE AT THE OL' CHOPPIN' BLOCK (TOOTH AND NAIL RECORDS, 1997)
TELL ANOTHER JOKE AT THE OL’ CHOPPIN’ BLOCK (TOOTH AND NAIL RECORDS, 1997)

I never, never found so-called “Christian groups” musically interesting; the vast majority of what I heard in that vein seemed like the most shallow, over-reverent, musically insipid crap I could imagine. Nothing against Christianity, only something against boring music. But Lord God almighty! The Danielsons changed that in a big way. It is, of course, not cool or even accurate to call them a “Christian” band. In fact, they are so weird and arty that their first label, a Christian one called Tooth and Nail, dropped them after one album. Instead, Daniel Smith, the composer and frontman for this band along with a rotating cast of family members and friends, began to attract a following from the fringes of indie rock and outsider music. Smith has a very, very high voice, and he makes it even higher by singing one of the highest falsettos in the history of pop music. It is showcased on several tracks on this amazing, visionary album. But the entire album is notable for the focused PASSION on display, the extremely original songwriting, and the sense of communal empathy that pours from the whole thing. Less important than the Christianity of the band is their deep, poignant humanity and concern for the well-being of everyone, meaning every single listener. They really don’t PREACH per se, they simply share their souls, and they do it with powerful music that ranges from Beatles to Beefheart in influence. I’ve tried to share Danielson music with various friends, and it is honestly too much for a lot of them. When Smith ascends to that remarkable falsetto and starts ranting about something in the modern world, it results in a singular, aggressively original sound that is not meant for all. But the humanity and intensity of this album is undeniably hypnotic, emotional and yes, quite beautiful. Some of their later albums, although I like all of them, are at times spotty. But TELL ANOTHER JOKE… is a masterpiece to me.

How it influenced me: By demonstrating that religious themes on an album can be musically riveting, that the subject of confessed vulnerability (one of my favorites) is worth examining, and that weirdness and focused passion are absolutely compatible bedfellows, something I have kept in mind ever since.

24. LISA GERMANO: LULLABYE FOR LIQUID PIG

LULLABY FOR LIQUID PIG (INEFFABLE MUSIC, 2003)
LULLABY FOR LIQUID PIG (INEFFABLE MUSIC, 2003)

I decided to include this one among some of the final “candidates” for this list because it was a crystal-clear example of a dark, depressing album being cathartic at a time when I was lost. The very offbeat, non-commercial style of Ms Germano is an acquired taste, but fans of originality and darker artsy/folksy stuff can find a lot to love in her work. LULLABYE… was released to little fanfare late in 2003, right as I was breaking up with a girl named Star in an unexpected manner. I went into a downward spiral for a time, and this record is about just that, a downward spiral. Although I’d found other dark, sad albums in the past to be compelling, such as stuff by Neil Young, Lou Reed, Joy Division and others, Lisa Germano really let her worst fears and sorrows hang out, and the album was willfully uncommercial. Yet it had a lot of fragile beauty on it. There were some verses, and eerie sounds (inspired by struggles with alcoholism, reportedly) on this album that could absolutely get under your skin. One verse that almost brought me to tears, was “Without you here/Without your love/The world’s just THERE/It doesn’t move me.” The songs are generally short, and Ms Germano really sounds like she is fighting off a breakdown, which oughta sound familiar to anyone who has suddenly lost their love, or found themselves on the wrong end of a battle with substance abuse. This is not a fun album, but I’ll never forget how it provided therapy and catharsis during a pretty rotten four month stretch for me.

25. In order for this list to have a sense of “completeness” for me, I have to put FILM SOUNDTRACKS

FILM MUSIC: NEVER CRY WOLF (WINDHAM HILL RECORDS, 1983)
FILM MUSIC: NEVER CRY WOLF (WINDHAM HILL RECORDS, 1983)

for the final slot. I don’t mean loose collections of songs, I mean orchestral scores. I grew up with film music and I love it, and my brother is one of the most knowledgeable film soundtrack buffs in the country; he writes a column about it. Film music has been described as the “first cousin” of ambient music; it’s generally instrumental, generally evocative and mood-setting, and able to be created in many different musical idioms. Watching movies and TV shows all my life, I have to say that I always noticed the music, and the mood-enhancing nature of movie music got deeply into my psyche. When I write songs now, there is always part of me that hopes to capture something subtly cinematic. There are tons of soundtracks in my collection, but to round out this list of influences, I will pick three different ones: TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD, the beautiful Elmer Bernstein score for the classic Gregory Peck movie (with a main theme that everyone loves and remembers); DANCES WITH WOLVES, a rapturous, Western-themed score by John Barry that covers as much terrain as the epic film itself does, and NEVER CRY WOLF, by the prolific Mark Isham, whose 1983 score was one of the first ambient soundtracks ever. Isham stated in interviews that he was influenced by Brian Eno, so… it figures I could identify with his movie work!

TEN OTHER INFLUENTIAL RECORDINGS THAT MISSED OUT ON THE MAIN LIST:

NEIL YOUNG: ZUMA… THE WHO: TOMMY… MIKE OLDFIELD: OMMADAWN… XTC: ENGLISH SETTLEMENT… THE SAMPLES: NO ROOM… THE RESIDENTS: NOT AVAILABLE… PHILIP GLASS: GLASSWORKS… HAROLD BUDD AND BRIAN ENO: THE PLATEAUX OF MIRROR… MUM: FINALLY WE ARE NO ONE… PINK FLOYD: DARK SIDE OF THE MOON

SPECIAL HONORABLE MENTION:

ROBYNN RAGLAND: MODERN AMERICAN FEMALE GUT

MODERN AMERICAN FEMALE GUT (RAGDOLL RECORDS, 2003)
MODERN AMERICAN FEMALE GUT (RAGDOLL RECORDS, 2003)

Although it didn’t feel right to place this on the main list of 25, I need to include Robynn Ragland’s record because, first of all, it was one of the most well-written and well-produced collections of songs by a local artist during my early years as a writer, first for NOISYPAPER, and then for PLAYBACK STL and fLUSH. Appreciating artists in Saint Louis wasn’t always easy, but Robynn made it a cinch. Her true significance for me was that we became close friends, and she really encouraged me with my own writing and creative pursuits. And in a twist that neither of us could have foreseen, when I had my surprising success with the UP IN THE AIR song, Robynn became my manager for a few years. She was singularly responsible for my spectacular trip to Japan to promote the movie, and I could hardly forget something like that!

THE 50 GREATEST PROFESSIONAL WRESTLERS OF ALL TIME: THE DEFINITIVE SHOOT

(Larry Matysik; 464 pages; ECW PRESS; 2013)

50-Book

A lot of you may not recognize Larry Matysik’s name but, in Saint Louis wrestling circles, he looms large as an elder-statesman of the business. Larry started his career at the age of sixteen, working with legendary promoter (as well as president of the National Wrestling Alliance), Sam Muchnick and learning the ropes (so to speak) and the inner workings of the wrestling game. By his 22nd birthday, he was THE announcer in Saint Louis, calling the play-by-play on the influential WRESTLING AT THE CHASE, acting as ring announcer for the bi-weekly house matches at the Keil Auditorium (and, later, the Saint Louis Arena/Checkerdome), and holding his own in interviews with some of the top names in the business, including Harley Race, Jack Briscoe, Ted DiBiase (before he was worth a million), Dick the Bruiser, Baron Von Raschke, Ox Baker, Dick Murdoch (an absolutely hilarious interviewee who once chased Larry around the ring) and – whoooo! – that limousine ridin’, jet flyin’, kiss stealin’, wheelin’, dealin’ son of a gun, the Nature Boy, Ric Flair. To say that it was an honor to sit down with the man for a few minutes and pick his brain regarding the industry that gave me a closeness with my father that few of my generation ever knew is an understatement of epic proportions. Larry and I talked about and debated the greats, near greats and never weres, the state of the game today and, of course, his latest book, THE 50 GREATEST PROFESSIONAL WRESTLERS OF ALL TIME: THE DEFINITIVE SHOOT.

The Author discusses the 50 greatest with Larry Matysik (photo credit: SCOTT HARTMAN)
The Author discusses the 50 greatest with Larry Matysik (photo credit: SCOTT HARTMAN)

This was originally intended to be an interview piece with Larry, but we did the Q and A session before and during the breaks at a house show for a small, independent promotion and, well… it was LOUD! When the time came for me to transcribe the tape, I was getting maybe about a third of what was said. So, since the gist of the interview was the book, I decided to turn the piece into a fairly standard review, with a few of the pearls that I could salvage (or remember) from the interview. Thus, without further ado…

Harley Race and Ric Flair, in one of their numerous, bloody matches (uncredited photo)
Harley Race and Ric Flair, in one of their numerous, bloody matches (uncredited photo)

I don’t agree that some of these wrestlers are, indeed, among the all time greats; I don’t agree with the placement of several of the performers listed. But, then, that’s the fun of a book like this, isn’t it? Mister Matysik, however, took painstaking measures in his choices and their positions. In fact, the first 106 pages of the book outlines the criteria he implemented in compiling this list. Most of my likes and dislikes and disagreements with those choices are personal, generally fueled by a visceral dislike for a certain “rassler” or the company they worked (or work) for. For instance, I can fully understand why Terry (Hulk Hogan) Bollea is on the list: He became the most recognizable face of the World Wrestling Federation (now known as the WWE) and the industry, catapulting the WWF to the top of the promotional heap, actually going “world wide” at a time when territorial promotions were the norm; Hulk literally changed the industry, making wrestling far more marketable than just a weekly local television show and a monthly house show. However, in my humble opinion, he ruined the wrestling game for fans like me and, as such, there is no way that he deserves to be listed above Harley Race; always loved Race (the greatest ever in my eyes) and truly hated what Vince McMahon (Junior) did to him when he signed on with the then WWF; likewise, I always loathed the Hulkster, a poor worker with minimal ability who would be beaten mercilessly for ten minutes, bug his eyes out and point a menacing finger at his opponent who, naturally, would cower in fear and succumb to the Herculean effects of Hogan’s finishing move, the giant leg drop, in less than a minute. But, again, that’s just me; Larry, after all, is the expert and lays out the pros and cons of every member of this elite conglomeration in a studious and – above all – entertaining fashion. And, as one of the pros happens to be marketability (as well as the ability to bring in a big payday for the promoter), Hulk Hogan has his place near the top of the heap.

Multi-time World Heavyweight Champion Lou Thesz (publicity photo)
Multi-time World Heavyweight Champion Lou Thesz (publicity photo)

Matysik is a scholar of the game and is quite jealous when someone berates it, especially when they call it “fake.” He worked with and befriended many of these athletes (yes… I said athletes; they may be “entertainers” but what they do requires great athletic ability), even becoming business partners with one, Frank (King Kong/Bruiser Brody) Goodish. Larry brings his encyclopedic knowledge of the professional wrestling business to this book, drawing from every era and every promotion to compile his 50 greatest list. Out of curiosity, I asked him about some of my favorites (and not so favorites) over the years. Guys like Baron Von Raschke, Lord Alfred Hayes, Bulldog Bob Brown, Ken Patera, Dick Murdoch, Paul Orndorff and so many others. Most he knew personally, others he knew by reputation only, all he had an opinion on. So, were any of these guys considered for the list? Yes they were. Every professional wrestler who ever stepped into the squared circle was considered for a spot on Larry’s list. Some were great at drawing heat as a heel (a bad guy) and were real gentlemen out of the spotlight but, for whatever reason, never reached the upper echelons of the business, which precluded their garnering a spot on the list. Another thing to consider is, “How would a particular performer fair in any other era outside his own?” Taking all of Matysik’s criteria and applying them to that question eliminated a good number of candidates, including some dominating names from certain periods of wrestling history.

Hulk Hogan, brother! (uncredited photo)
Hulk Hogan, brother! (uncredited photo)

As an interesting sidebar, we also discussed the business side of the industry, in particular, the type of business practices utilized by one Vincent Kennedy McMahon (or VKM, as Larry calls him). While we both agree that VKM’s take-no-prisoner approach has manifestly harmed not only the game as a whole, but his brand, as well, we also recognize that he elevated public interest in a dying industry that – even some 30 years later – it still enjoys, though the WWE brand has more recently been responsible for continuing diminishing numbers on television and at house shows. McMahon is also notorious for “scorched earth” tactics that virtually guarantee that, eventually, every major star at rival promotions must sign with him or find another line of work. He then buries them in mid-card matches or stooges them out (like he did it with Harley Race and so many others), simply because they had the nerve to work for a competitor. If he sees a performer who becomes more popular than VKM’s chosen, he puts them in not only ridiculous, but untenable situations; the most recent example being Phil Brooks, better known as CM Punk who, rather than playing the game, chose to retire. Larry alluded to the fact that Punk was definitely in the running for this list and probably would have made the cut had he not walked away, citing a dearth of ring time (which, we are assuming he would have had if he hadn’t retired) as the primary reason that he didn’t get the nod. As the only truly viable alternative to Vince’s WWE currently is Total Nonstop Action (TNA), the discussion eventually turned to the problems within that promotion; even though he thinks that president Dixie Carter and her creative team are making a bad situation worse, Larry hopes to see the ship righted. At the time of the interview, rumors were rampant that McMahon had already or was going to initiate a hostile takeover of TNA (as he did with WCW and ECW); Matysik agrees that such a move would, ultimately, do more harm than good, stifling a healthy, competitive corporate atmosphere and further muddying WWE’s already murky talent pool. Several months removed from our talk, rumors abound that TNA’s ship is sinking faster than ever and, apparently, the hull is so badly damaged that even McMahon has no interest in acquiring the brand. He’s content to just sit in his WWE lifeboat and drag anyone he deems worthy of saving aboard… as long they’re willing to bow to his mastery.

Kurt Angle, one of the 50 greatest, puts an ankle lock on Samoa Joe (photo courtesy: TOTAL NONSTOP ACTION)
Kurt Angle, one of the 50 greatest, puts an ankle lock on Samoa Joe (photo courtesy: TOTAL NONSTOP ACTION)

As you can see, Larry certainly doesn’t pull any punches, making this book a must have for any true wrestling fan. Since we will all have our opinion as to who should be on the list and who shouldn’t and why, this could definitely serve as a starting point for spirited debates among the kindred (maybe even a headlock, a diving headbutt or – at the very least – a hip-toss takedown for the truly vociferous patron of the art). Each entry has a great black and white picture of the wrestler and a five to ten page overview of his career and why Larry chose him for the list (and why he placed him, numerically, where he did). And, while most of today’s fans know only the likes of John Cena, the Undertaker, Brock Lesner or Kurt Angle (all on the list, by the way… for better or worse), THE 50 GREATEST PROFESSIONAL WRESTLERS OF ALL TIME is a fantastic history lesson for them and a wonderful look back for us geezers who remember the National Wrestling Alliance, the American Wrestling Association, World Class Championship Wrestling or any of the other regional promotions. The names are legendary: Edouard Carpentier, Classy Freddie Blassie, Pat O’Connor, Fritz Von Erich (father of the ill-fated Von Erich wrestling clan), Nick Bockwinkel, Lou Thesz and, of course – whoooo! – that limousine ridin’, jet flyin’, kiss stealin’, wheelin’, dealin’ son of a gun, the Nature Boy, Ric Flair. See what I did there? I just brought this whole review back to the beginning!

John Cena, one of the 50 greatest, dropkicks Bray Wyatt (photo courtesy: WORLD WRESTLING ENTERTAINMENT)
John Cena, one of the 50 greatest, dropkicks Bray Wyatt (photo courtesy: WORLD WRESTLING ENTERTAINMENT)

Uh… yeah… so, anyway, you’re gonna have to pick up your very own copy of the book to see just where your favorites place; it’s available at most book stores, through Amazon online and, of course, directly from www.ecwpress.com, as are Larry’s other books, including BRODY: THE TRIUMPH AND TRAGEDY OF WRESTLING’S REBEL and WRESTLING AT THE CHASE: THE INSIDE STORY OF SAM MUCHNICK AND THE LEGENDS OF PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING.

SWANS/XIU XIU

(June 24, 2014; THE READY ROOM; Saint Louis, MO)

The Ready Room (photo crdit: JASON STOFF)
The Ready Room (photo crdit: JASON STOFF)

At some shows I’ve been to in recent years, particularly smaller ones, I’ve looked at the audience as much as the performers, trying to gauge people’s reactions and suss out what kind of experience they were having. When you’re dealing with a noncommercial act like Swans, the Michael Gira-led entity that inhabits one end of the post-punk spectrum, you can’t help wondering about the fans and why this kinda assaultive sonic maelstrom appeals to them. This is not to pass judgment, as I AM such a fan. It’s just… why? How can long, discordant, punishing slabs of dark drone and indecipherable lyrics be life-affirming? Do you leave such an experience in a good mood, and just say to your concert-going pals, “Man, that was great!” the way you would after a normal concert? I dunno. But I did indeed utter “That was pretty amazing” to MY companion for the night, and I did experience SOME kind of catharsis. But I’m not sure what it was. I do know I won’t forget it.

Xiu Xiu (uncredited photo from June 20, 2014)
Xiu Xiu (uncredited photo from June 20, 2014)

I wasn’t overly familiar with Swans going in; I’d heard a few bits and pieces, and read some articles about them. But never had a chance to experience their sound up close before. Warning was given via a sign on the door that the concert was going to be extremely loud (helpful hint, that!), so ear plugs were clearly in order. But actually, I’ve been to louder, even though it WAS a punishing volume throughout. Things kicked off with a bizarre half hour opening stint by an incarnation of Xiu Xiu that included only founder Jamie Stewart. I’d been looking forward to hearing some songs from Xiu Xiu’s early CDs that I happened to own, but it was not to be. Stewart sat at a synth console and delivered a piercing monolithic tone that gradually got louder and louder, and gradually added other drone elements until it evolved into a squall of noisy dark ambient matter that was alternatingly hypnotic and tedious. He never said a word and never looked up, and I wouldn’t have even known this had anything to do with the Xiu Xiu I once listened to unless I’d done some research the next day. One thing’s for sure; you don’t see this kinda thing on stage in Saint Louis very often.

Swans live, May 28, 2014 (photo credit: ANDREW NOVELL)
Swans live, May 28, 2014 (photo credit: ANDREW NOVELL)

The wait for Swans was short and, it’s pretty clear when you lay eyes (and ears) on a crazed codger like Michael Gira that you’re in the presence of a twisted original. It seems almost irrelevant to mention song titles, because at a show like this, only hardcore fans would care about such a thing. Swans “tunes” are really long, really repetitive and singularly immersive; variety is not what you’re in for at a show like this. But, okay… “Frankie M” and “A Little God in My Hands” were the first two tunes. Layered gongs kicked off the former, and your ears had no choice but to instantly surrender to the onslaught. I was distracted almost immediately by a comely young woman swaying to the sound, yes, swaying to a sound that most of my friends would’ve bolted from within minutes. Heck, I thought girls liked dancing to stuff with a beat and a sing-along chorus. But damn, even the weirdest and most anti-commercial of bands gotta have their female followers, I suppose. “ …God… ” began with a slashing, repeated chord or whatever you’d call the combination of tones that kicked this one off. I was reminded of Eno’s oblique strategy card, “Repetition is a form of change,” a notion that Eno pioneered and that Swans have seemingly taken to another level. No one would be able to lose themselves in this kind of sonic overload if it was truly just one continuous, unvarying tone but, the fact is, Gira’s band conjure a gargantuan symphony of strident yet structured noisetronica that is ferociously willful and ultimately transfixing. The crowd was apparently riveted, although one girl sitting next to me was peacefully reading a paperback novel half the time, and I wondered about her temperament. I wouldn’t have been able to get through a single page of any book with this kinda music in the background.

Swans live, May 28, 2014 (photo credit: ANDREW NOVELL)
Swans live, May 28, 2014 (photo credit: ANDREW NOVELL)

Gira has a trademark way of holding his hands out to each side, shaking them a little, symmetrically, sometimes with eyes closed. He’s a curious figurehead with his long hair and piercing gaze, and seems genuinely appreciative that he gets to do this sort of thing. My companion and I chatted about how this sort of music can only exist and, in fact, progress, if its makers are utterly serious and committed to what they do. Not an issue at all with Swans. The cacophonous “The Apostate” was next, and it was thunderous, with atonal chord play, primal sludgy ambience and a sound that struck my ears as “Da U WOOM/ Da U WOOM!” It went on for a long, long time and, again, I couldn’t help watching the Ready Room patrons, most of whom watched with rapt attention and, a few of whom attempted to move their bodies in one way or another to this crazed sound. I wouldn’t want to hear this sort of thing every day, but experiencing it live was a pretty singular experience. Something almost approaching “tonal variety” came with the song “Just A Little Boy,” which made me think of the eerie Talking Heads song, “The Overload.” Straight-up dirge-y angst, the lyrics go, “Now I sleep in the belly of woman/And I sleep in the belly of man/And I sleep in the belly of rhythm/And I sleep in the belly of love.” Maybe not manifesto territory here, but Gira is clearly saying SOMETHING, and trying to do so in the context of a long, assaultive drone makes it brave and interesting. It was actually one of the more emotionally resonant moments of the evening.

Swans live, May 28, 2014 (photo credit: ANDREW NOVELL)
Swans live, May 28, 2014 (photo credit: ANDREW NOVELL)

Fire trucks appeared in fromt of the Ready Room two different times, once early in the evening, and once during “Don’t Go,” when the flashing red lights got the attention of anyone near the windows (including yours truly) and made me wonder whether a fire code violation had occurred, or whether the crew outside had been tipped off about something that needed to be “watched” at this show. No doubt the attendance was amazing; the line waiting to get into the RR was thrice longer than I had been anticipating. Gira gets good publicity. Anyway, the sound slabs during this number were particularly intense, with two or three bass notes played insistently while granite chunks of guitar, percussion and keys were hurled out into the crowd with abandon. My mind wandered (and a few Shock Top drafts added splendidly to the mood), and I thought that if Gira’s story was ever made into a movie, either Michael Madsen or Guy Pearce would have to be cast as the lead. Scruffy intensity was definitely called for. The one-two climactic punch of “Bring the Sun/Black Hole Man” was sometimes evocative and haunting, sometimes poundingly nasty, with lyrics almost impossible to decipher (although I’d swear I heard the phrase “Joseph is riding” once or twice). But, hey, lyrics are not the point of a Swans song. Immersive surrender to the darkest of dark waves is more in order. And, actually, I left in admiration for the perverse, primal simplicity of what Swans have to offer. Though there is little pleasure or comfort to be had in a show like this, the catharsis is real, and the visceral release is palpable. It’s important for music to stake out EDGES to explore, places where few dare go and declare, “Okay, this is what’s out here in THIS place, check it out if you’re so inclined.” I’m grateful to have experienced that thing that Swans do, even if I’ll be scratching my head for a long time over what it means, and how that girl could’ve gotten through a good portion of her book with Swans as the background soundtrack. Each to their own in this world, truly…