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West Regional Report
Edited by Sarah Bruner - syrup@hula.net

In This Issue

Goodbye Burke, Hello Pseudopod

Ominous Seapods at Legends Lounge

KVHW

Every Fool Has His Day

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Goodbye Burke, Hello Pseudopod
THE END OF ALTERNATIVE INDIE ROCK ACCORDING TO COLLEGE STUDENTS

March 13, 1999 - Paradise Lounge, San Francisco, CA

by Suki O'Kane

As a favor to their friends in Burke, who had picked a Saturday night at the Paradise to quit this nasty business of being a clever, heartfelt, hookridden and underpromoted act, Pseudopod removed their shoes and climbed the main stage to warm up the crowd.

The quartet has all the requisite components: a guitarist that's this side of crafty, perhaps too talented for the genre; a drummer that belies his suburban whiteness with butt-shaking zigaboo smacks and kicks; the gangly, unemotional, and hugely tall bass player with more than four strings; and the sex-drenched front man, shirt buttoned wrong, trembling with intensity. Most of them could not legally purchase a drink at the adjacent bar.

I bring them to your attention because they are good, at a time when so many are not. Using irresistable funk beats, dwelling in a groove, laying on the occasional (but not too intellectual) angular, contrapuntal guitar lead, and growing a growl in the beer-clenching audience to match the love-stained vocal, Pseudopod delivered a trouble-forgetting, head-bobbing set to an audience peppered with women who knew all the words and men who closed their eyes and just got lost in the jam.

Is there a flaw in the Pseudopod concept? Probably not. As they get older they may lengthen the jams to suit the medeski-martin-and-woodier of us, or sweeten the reverb on the vocal mike to heighten our connection with the just-plain-boy poetry for those of us raised up on charismatic, brow-furrowed male leads. They could give in to the obvious talent of Grant on guitar and moe. themselves down, or swap themselves out for a league of gentlemen. But to have found the sweet spot in all these competing trends at such an early part of their musical lives is to have accomplished something remarkable.

Stepping over the scattered boxes of unsold CDs that Burke had painstakingly recalled from all over the continental United States and left out for Paradise denizens to collect by the casual handful, dribbles of Pseudojuice hitting their fronts as thirsty swigs were interrupted by nosespitting laughter, members of Pseudopod trolled the balcony above their colleagues, who poured out a performance for the very last time. That's what great beginnings look like.

 

Kevin Carlberg - Vocals Ross Grant - Guitar Brian Fox - Bass Tim MacGregor - Drums www.pseudopod.net

Setlist: Zoid Better Part of Me Nickel Bag Shrinks Endless Enforcement Suzanna Oompa Loompa Song Fool in the Rain Wisdom Yost

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Ominous Seapods Legends Lounge
Las Vegas 3/27 and 3/28
The Mutation of a Species

by Rudy Jalio

Students of Darwinism can tell you that life as we know it today evolved from the sea. Much of the same can be said of the current jamband scene with the evolution of a Phish spawning a new generation of bands. One of the earliest life forms developed in upstate NY, and was appropriately called, "The Ominous Seapods." These North country freaks spent much of the early 90's infecting the northeast with a zany craziness, and in the process helped create a new style of music. In the mid 90's, they took their show on the road and began infecting other villages all across the country.

As one further studies Darwinism, we learn the term mutation. Now I don't know how this term came to be associated with the Seapods, but when one talked about an OS show it was spoken of as being a -mutated experience-. To see Dana stripped down to his boxer shorts with a Ronald Reagan mask on, swinging a rubber chicken wasn't an act of normal behavior... obviously a perverse aberration of the human condition as we know it.

When Max Verna told me before the Halloween run that he would be leaving the band, I wondered if it would spell the end of OS, just as I was really getting to know their music. Well folks, in true OS fashion, the band has mutated into (I want to say a beautiful swan, but nobody would buy that line about this bunch of freaks), a fire breathing dragon.

The joke on pod-net, the OS online listserv, is that nobody ever talks about the music. However, with the addition of Todd Pasternak, the band is showing a new and exciting level of jamming. Saturday night's show was one long, out-there-jam-o-rama. Set I highlights included a smoking, out of control "Passengers en Route" and a set closing "Sneakin' Sally" that was better than any version that the Penis band (oh, I'm sorry I thought I was on moe-L), Phish ever played. As many of you know, no matter which listserv you are on, it seems to be against the rules to ever mention Phish. Well the folks on moe-L (moe. listserv) have solved the problem by calling them the -Penis band-.

Before the start of the second set, Marty "don't call me an asshole" Racine, OS's sound-man, unplugged from our matrix tape mix because he felt that the crowd was too loud and crazy with too much audience bleeding through on the tape. By the time they reached the third song in the set "Taste Sensation Overload," the crowd was going nuts. The band fed off this and proceeded to play the best set of music I've seen from OS out of the nine shows I've caught in the past year. The music flowed with such intensity that noone even noticed that they didn't hold a belly bucking contest, a Legend's-OS tradition.

As people began to filter in for Sunday night's show it was obvious that the crowd was still recovering form last night's $10-all-you-could-drink Foster's special and the 3:30am ending. When the band hit the stage the crowd consisted of the OS faithful including the "Chicago three" who had driven out for the weekend debauchery. This is where OS' experience showed, as the 'Pods gave us a whole other side of the band. New songs including a show ending Roger Miller cover of "King of The Road," which was played not only for the first time on stage, but for the first time as a band. The Belly Bucking tradition got crazy with almost $100 bet on the match between antler boy and moe-L Wayne. It was a three-round belly slamming sickness which was taken by antler boy in a decision.

Being Palm Sunday, we celebrated in true OS fashion with a Martini Communion. Pitchers of Martini's were poured for everyone and Dana dispensed olives for the masses. I cherish these moments with the band because as they graduate to larger venues like the House of Blues show they did two nights later... this out of control mutated intimacy could become harder to maintain, as success catches up with their new level of jamming.

Yes, as is true in real life, the mutation of a species usually takes it to a new level. The Ominous Seapods have taken on a new member and given mothers around the country yet another reason to keep their children away from these pied-pipers of the jamband scene. Editor's note- Although I can't be sure if they'll get posted, we submitted a few photos from the Saturday night show to the JamBands.com photo gallery. For full set lists of both shows, check the 'Pod's site. http://www.ominousseapods.com

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KIMOCK VEGA WHITE HERTZ
Live At The Great American Music Hall

by Charlie Dirksen

April is shaping up to be a phenomenal month for improvisational rock music fans in the Bay area. Lesh and Friends (with Kimock, as well as Trey & Page of Phish), Zero (with Kimock & Vega), and numerous KVHW (with Jazz is Dead) shows.

The first weekend of April proved to be a glorious one, as KVHW dazzled fans old and new at two sold-out shows at the beautiful Great American Music Hall.

Friday's show opened with a thrilling "Five B4 Funk -> My Favorite Things" combination. Anyone left unstirred by the funky Five B4 (in five time) was surely charmed by Kimock's virtuosity on "Favorite Things," arguably one of the finest versions KVHW has performed to date.

"Hair" was next, and it had not been sung by Ray or, for that matter, performed by KVHW in nearly a year. The April '98 Powerhouse tapes refer to it as a "Lyrical Work in Progess." "You're the One," an exciting instrumental, was excellent, as was the soulful "Nine Rings Around the Moon." The Zappa cover "City of Tiny Lites" was also admirably performed, with the words sung masterfully by Ray White.

The set closed with KVHW's first cover of Jimi Hendrix's "Spanish Castle Magic." A dream come true for many Hendrix fans, this song was jammed out by KVHW exceedingly well, even if Ray was a wee bit shaky on the lyrics. The band will surely do even more with it in the future if -- as many fans hope -- they continue to play it!

After a very long setbreak, the second set opened with two improvisational monsters, "Spring Water" and "Point of No Return." Though not as long or as awe-inspiring as many previous versions, they nevertheless enchanted many in attendance, and featured expert improvisation. The instrumental "Slumber" similarly contained some creative jamming, though it, too, didn't bring the house down. "The Tune Up Song" was improvised on the spot. Though Ray's lyrics were silly, the tune itself (set to a samba-like rhythm) was an amusing, refreshing break in the set.

The Sly & the Family Stone tune "In Time" was next, and it was definitely one of the finest versions KVHW had ever performed. Bobby Vega played feircely on this one, and Alan Hertz even took a strong drum solo. Ray's vocals were similarly RIGHT ON.

"Same World" is a brand new tune that was also played on Saturday. It has all the right things to please fans: a catchy melody line or hook, good lyrics, and Room to Jam. Look out for this one!

"Footprints" (a Wayne Shorter tune) was incredible. Kimock employed the "Florida guitar" on this one with the envelope filter on (check out Jerry Garcia's tone on any version of "Shakedown" or "Estimated Prophet"). It was magical and must-hear. The Zappa cover "Illinois Enema Bandit," though well played and gorgeously sung by Ray, was not nearly as strong as many previous versions. This song did, however, feature guest vocals from Nina, who had also added some pleasant vocals to the version in Arcata last February.

The show ended with the fun and funky medley, " Express Yourself -> Poonk -> Express Yourself," known to some fans simply as "Poonk Yourself."

While the audience at Saturday's show was arguably more mellow than the crowd on Friday, the music at Saturday's show was far more intense and exciting than that performed, overall, on Friday. Saturday's show was one of the finest nights of improvisational rock that I've ever heard, and KVHW -- yet again -- made me question my own credibility as a critic of its music and of music in general.

A wise person once said that writing about music is like dancing about architecture. There is no band that brings this point more home to this critic than KVHW. But since everyone can't be at every show, some of us try to tell it as they heard it, for the sake of those who missed it and who care -- even if all we really do is increase demand for the tapes!

Saturday's first set was perhaps one of KVHW's shortest on record (it was less than an hour), but it contained improvisation so bewilderingly sweet that my utterly sober head was spinning by setbreak. The opening "Cissy Strut" was as passionately funky as the instrumental "Bad Hair" was fiendishly groovy. Ray sang joyfully on the fun "Teeny Weeny Bit," which Kimock shredded to pieces with vicious licks from his guitar.

The spell-binding instrumental "It's Up to You" was a stupefyingly euphoric love boat that blew my god damn mind. If that wasn't enough, the Zero instrumental and Kimock original (but very, very poorly named) "Kissing the Boo Boo" came next and, with its brilliant, intricate, mellifluous jams, hypnotized the chatty Bay area crowd into submissive, respectful silence. "Let Me Love You Baby" closed the set on an R&B groove so profound that I couldn't have cared less that the set hadn't lasted even an hour. It was a magnificent set of KVHW that I cannot wait to spread massively to The People, particularly those who unfortunately missed this gig.

After yet another very long setbreak, a spectacular 40 minute "High and Lonesome -> Pau Pau Go -> Same World" trio lit the room ablaze in ecstasy and featured some wondrous improvisation. If you thought the "Pau Pau Go" from the Fillmore show last February was a winner, wait until you hear this electrifying, mind-blowing version!

"Tangled Hangers" was similarly awesome. Kimock must have hit ten thousand perfectly-placed notes in this spine-tingling version. No "noodling" here -- every note seemed perfectly placed, as if part of a larger story. It was a triumphant totality of genius that I cannot wait to hear again.

The bluesy "Shotgun House" was likewise Almighty, and the most inspired version I've ever heard KVHW perform. Ray's vocals were flawless, and Kimock, Vega, and Hertz were equally brilliant in this rousing version. The "New Nodge" and "Nodge Balls" instrumentals in this set were also breathtaking, with plenty of full-band improvisation that ventured forcefully into new territory for these tunes.

A jubilant New Instrumental was performed next. Practically an Irish jig, some likened its spirit to frolicking giddily in a green pasture (or skipping merrily in a field of tall grass on a summer's day, etc.). It's a charmer to be sure, and one that many fans hope might even get played at the Lesh and Friends shows next week! (as foolish and crazy as this might sound) This instrumental segued well into a fiercely energetic "Hillbillies on PCP," which closed this memorable KVHW set appropriately.

The "Spring Water" encore was pleasant. Though semi-sweet, it was nevertheless icing on an already divine cake.

One of the overall highlights of the weekend which must be noted is that Kimock switched guitars after almost every song both nights. He had a guitar tech on hand that kept his various guitars tuned and ready. For this KVHW fan, the presence of this guitar tech (who was clearly getting down with the music at times) and the use of so many different guitars was easily one of the highlights of the weekend. Kimock must have played at least five different guitars each night.

Thanks are due yet again to Steve Kimock, Bobby Vega, Alan Hertz, and Ray White for blessing Bay area improvisational rock fans with their music. Your shows are priceless, and myself and many other fans actually feel privileged to be able to see you. I hope you tour this year to as many cities as you can handle, so that other improvisational rock fans can see and hear you LIVE. You're so good that I feel a Moral Obligation not only to spread your music, but also to beg you to play outside the Bay area. You are spoiling us. And given all the chit-chat by most crowds at Bay area shows, we're arguably not worthy.

KVHW has a live CD that is available now from Grateful Dead Merchandising. My review of it is in the February 1999 issue of http://www.jambands.com/, but all that review will do is take a long time to tell you to buy it (so there's no need to read it). Call 1-800-CAL-DEAD to order KVHW's live CD.

Check out http://www.kvhw.com/ for the band's current tour information.

 

Friday 4/2/99 Set One: (1:13) Five B4 Funk -> My Favorite Things Hair (formerly known as "LWIP") You're the One Nine Rings Around the Moon City of Tiny Lites Spanish Castle Magic	Saturday 4/3/99 Set One (an hour) Cissy Strut Bad Hair Teeny Weeny Bit It's Up to You Kissing the Boo Boo Let Me Love You Baby
Set Two: (1:53) Spring Water Point of No Return Slumber The Tune Up Song In Time -> Drum Solo -> In Time Same World (new song) Footprints Illinois Enema Bandit Express Yourself -> Poonk -> Express Yourself No Encore	Second Set (1:52) High and Lonesome -> Pau Pau Go -> Same World Tangled Hangers Shotgun House New Nodge Nodge Balls New Instrumental -> Hillbillies on PCP Encore: Spring Water (12 mins)

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Every Fool Has His Day

by Martin Acaster

The concept of time continues to haunt me. We as humans mark the passage of time in a multitude of ways, compartmentalizing it to the millisecond when the olympics roll around, lumping it into larger units as necessary to mark one revolution of the earth on its axis, one orbit of our moon around us, one trip around the elliptic of the sun for the planet. We also mark specific days as important, the day of our birth, the day of our marriage, various holidays invented by hallmark or the by the faith in which we believe (or not). Certainly these are all important days to remember, but ask yourself this: There one day or week or month of each and every year that always seems to be a good time for you? I would be willing to bet that each of us have some random (yet cyclical) time period which consistently throws a dose of high energy into the sensory perception module. Conveniently enough, mine falls on or around a very appropriate day. Year in and year out it seems the first week in april (FOOL!) has been the source of some of the highest highs and the highest lows. More often than not in the last 10 years (as far as I can remember back), it has involved either some fabulous music or finding true love, sometimes I am not sure which I have enjoyed more.

For some example of what I am talking about here (before I discuss the events of this years festival of the fool), I will recap some of the important events I have experienced during my "special" time.

On April 2nd, 1976, the nine year old Martin, disguised as a young English schoolboy (complete with oh-so-cute accent) moved to the land of the free, the home of the brave. How cool, you must be thinking. Sure it was, being English in the birthplace of the American Revolution was just wonderful. My accent was quickly beaten out of me by each miniature minuteman I encountered in the schoolyard. Of course, it could have been because all the miniature minutemaids were so into the guy with the cute accent I suppose, Jealousy is such a horrible thing.

Flash forward to the not too recent past, April 1, 1991, I fall head over heels in love, real true honest to goodness, I would die 4 U love. Of course, the date should have tipped me off to the implications that this relationship was indeed doomed by the festival of the fool. For over two years I was the Sid to her Nancy, the Kurt to her Courtney, even the Sonny to her Cher. One year later, April 4, 1992, me and my Nancy are down in the City, newly engaged, and heading to the Marquee to see the Radiators, followed by a long night of getting jiggy with Molly at Limelight till the break of dawn, perpetual dawn. Since, if you're gonna suck it, suck the head. You get the idea. We lived at both ends of the passion spectrum, Love and Hate, Hate and Love. Finally, in the ultimate act of kindness (to us both) I decided (on or around April 3, 1993) to send her home to her millionaire parents, to avoid our tragic murder-suicide, and to plunge myself into a well of despair. This all lasted for approximately one year until the following Easter.

April 3, 1994, Pearl Jam broadcasting live from the Fox Theater in Atlanta, me alone in my dark hole. The light slowly filtering down with the realization that in 4 days I would be seeing what I was hearing live at the Rochester War Memorial. April 7, 1994 as the pilot light of my soul was reignited by the frenzied Ocean of orgasmic 19-year old girls that was the pit swirling before Eddie, the real Kurt was killing grunge and himself, I thought at the time, perhaps in my place. Fully alive for the first time in a year, I did not want the night to end. My attorney and I found ourselves at East LA just in time to catch the second set of the first annual Mimi Fishman birthday bash with the Sons of Papaya. Two days later the faint light that was burning within me was used to detonate the neutron love bomb that is Phish. I finally got IT from Phish. The Mike's Song>I'm Hydrogen>Weekapaugh pushed me over the edge of sanity and beyond, happily never to return. Giddy with glee Phlimsy Motorhome and I raced the crowd back to East LA, it was saturday night, Midnight Madness, and the Cellar Dwellers were kicking out the jams. The concept of seeing the greatest band in the world and the worst band in the world on the same night was mind boggling. The Dwellers enjoyed the greatest show of their lives as the LOVE swelled into the room from Beinghymntongue and the kids were getting down to the cheesy synthesizer Elton John covers swirling off of the stage. Saturday Nights ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT.

Another year down the road and I was approaching the pinnacle of all my boyhood fantasies. OK, one of my boyhood fantasies, Page and Plant, live, on stage together April 4, 1995 at the Philadelphia Spectrum, I know, not REALLY Led Zeppelin, but it was as close as I was going to get without traveling through time. As a warmup to the show I had caught the Black Crowes at the Tower theater five days earlier. As anyone who has heard the Crowes in a small indoor venue will know, they can be loud, and at the time were probably at the pinnacle of their career as a band. Nothing, however, could have adequately prepared me for the magic that Jimmy Page unleashed that night. I was left grinning and speechless for an entire day. The next day I sped up to Syracuse to catch the Sons of Papaya Mimi bash. This time her son showed up and sat in with the Sons for the Weekapaugh Groove encore. It was sweaty it was tight, I was home.

The following year, March 30, 1996, the unthinkable had come to pass, the Syracuse Orangemen were back in the final four. Not wanting to shell out the thousand dollars for a seat in Brendan Byrne Arena I made the trek up to Syracuse to watch the game at Hungry Charley's. Madness ensued when the Cuse pulled off the upset over Mississippi State. That night of course was the annual Mimi birthday show. We shuffled downtown to Styleen's Rythym Palace to try to get into the sold out show. As my friends went to a bar down the street I worked the line for an extra. Since Styleen's was 21 and over only there were some dissapointed underage kids just hanging around outside. I scored a ticket and bounced into the bar in time to catch moe. tearing it up. They were followed by Aquarium Rescue Unit if memory serves but by that time I was already heading across town to see the Ghost Monkeys at East LA. The night spun out of control and I found myself in jail for speeding. The final straw in my decision to get the hell off of the east coast. I must slow down and relax.

April 2nd, 1997 having just returned to Portland after Easter with mom and dad. The news filled with tales of the Heaven's Gate comet express. I met the woman who has had the greatest influence on my life to date. To say our relationship is complex is the grandest of understatements. As Jack said in As Good As It Gets, she makes me want to be a better man. The irony of the date finally hit home. Two women, six years, and countless universes apart, same effect. What was it about April?

Last year did nothing to unravel the mystery. Radiohead the band, amazing show once again, April 4th the date. I now expect this time of year to be a musical orgasm. When I saw the lineup for upcoming shows for this past weekend in Portland, I was not surprised. On three consecutive nights I would be treated to George Clinton and the P-Funk Allstars, then Medeski, Martin, Wood and Logic squared.

Dr. Funkenstein brought his circus to La Luna, a grungy dive soon to be transformed into an electronica dance hall, formerly the Pine Street Theater it had hosted the likes of Nirvana and Pearl Jam back in the day. The Bop Gun was set to stun and I was indeed hit with it. I actually danced at a show for the first time since the Cellar Dwellers tore up East LA. The faces in the allstars have changed but the act remains the same. Sir Nose Devoid of Funk was writhing on the speaker stacks, his proboscis transormed to a sleek shiny black monolith instead of the obscenely long floppy dildo of old. The guy in the towel diaper to the best of my knowledge wasn't Bootsy, there was no Maceo, there was no Bernie Worell. But, it just doesn't matter. Make my Funk the P-Funk. I wants to get funked up. I want the Bomb. Flashlight was amazing, and seemed to go on for ever. The show of course was non-stop, the second and third shift rotating in before the cycle of bandmembers began anew. They are all crazy good. Clocking in at 4:20 from start to finish the show was a workout of the highest caliber.

I wearily made it through my Good Friday at work feeling amazingly revived at the stroke of five. Wanting to beat the rush for the MMW show we headed down to the Roseland early, had a beer at the newly constructed Roseland Grill, then made our way upstairs. The crowd was light but soon packed in. Pressed in at the front of the stage in front of Billy Martin's rig the acoustic set began. The set was a journey through the back alleys of New York, across the Atlantic on the back of a whale into the Jungles of Africa to swing with the chimps and back across the waves to home. In between sets DJ Logic came out to spin some FAT tracks. Where do those albums with the killer grooves come from anyway? The electric set was just that. From start to finish a high energy jolt of the finest of Jazz Hop. I had not heard much of Combustication before the show but am now glad that it will soon be arriving from Columbia House. The crowd was filled with many friends. A pulsing mass of life with the kindest of soundtracks. I left the show elated, thankful for what I had heard, eager for the next show.

Saturday night, we played it mellow, arriving late, slinking to the balcony, finding a key spot down the right side overlooking the stage. The waitress found us, no reason to fight to the bar, life was good. The band was on again. A different perspective, a different show, just as enjoyable. The highlight of the acoustic set was a completely acoustic jam to close it out where Medeski was playing a tiny keyboard powered by his breath, Martin banged the tambourine, and Wood thumped the stand up bass at the edge of the stage. The setbreak showed DJ Logics limitations. Either I had traveled back through time to the previous night or he was playing the same tracks. He made up for it in the second set however with another heavy dose of Combustication. As the evening drew to a close and the clock snuck past midnight into another Easter, the three day celebration of life was capped with the appropriate question. Has Anybody Seen MY Jesus?

It's April. . . . FOOL!

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