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West Regional Report
Edited by Sarah Bruner - sarah@syrup.orgIn This Issue
David Nelson Band in LA The Gone Orchestra, Rockin Teenage Combo, and Daevid Allen and the University of Errors Making The Most of IT Protection Music Festival
David Nelson Band in LA
The first unmistakable notes of Lonesome LA Cowboy filled that well known LA music bastion, the Westchester Bar and Grill, and we LA gringos knew we were on our way to DNB heaven. Which seems to happen when you least expect it. This time we found the band near the airport playing in a neighborhood bar, apparently a waystation before a party the next day north of LA. I live twenty minutes from this place and never heard of it. A stroke of dumb luck clued me in that the band was in town (or maybe there was more to it) and so here I was - enjoying an intimate show with a band with roots in the sixties but were just now hitting their stride in the nineties.
Did I say intimate? I stepped outside after the LA band Cubensis finished their rhythm and blues inflected brand of Dead sound and saw Dave himself strolling across the parking lot complaining to his buddies about his clothes being missing. I don't know what that was about but after he entered the club, I asked one of the guys that he was talking to if Kerouac was a new song. I had just bought the new CD Visions Under the Moon, and found myself playing this song repetitively. It has that early NRPS sound and I was wondering if I had somehow missed it. He looked at me, "well, I wrote that about two years ago after talking to some old friends about the Beats."
"You're Laymon"?
"Bill."
After we formally introduced each other, we spoke about some of the other new songs such as the Nelson penned Edge of the Wire and the killer title track whose last four minutes (Penumbra) may be worth the price of the CD. This was great - like sitting on the glass at a hockey game. He then shook my hand and went inside to play.
Lonesome LA Cowboy did not suffer because of its opening slot. The band immediately sounded strong, confident, and surprisingly clean considering the room. After Cowboy, they chose another appropriate LA tune, Film at Eleven, before playing No Souvenirs and Kerouac from the new CD. Laymon's raspy baritone voice really animates the sad yet life-affirming tone of Kerouac while Nelson and Sless do the same with their guitars. Next was the funky Born Sidestepper before the serious jamming began with another new tune, The Road to Armageddon. Here Nelson, Sless and Siegal all showed they could play with the best of em' with an extended jam that segued into Edge of the Wire. This is yet another classic Nelson tune that shows off his songwriting craft and his keen ear for a catchy tune, as well as providing another springboard for terrific guitar work. The rocker Rag Mama Rag came next before slowing down to the Laymon sung Warrior's Path. The familiar notes of Dylan's Absolutely Sweet Marie, a song that fits perfectly into DNB's style of play, came next. Dylan would be proud and if only he could sing this good! Different World and Earl's Girl's were presented next as a package deal with the latter featuring some scorching guitar work by Sless. The Band had the crowd where it wanted them and kept up the intensity with a rousing Iko Iko next. This tune finished with a long extended jam featuring some great keyboard work by Siegal while Nelson and Sless explored some spacey guitar vistas. They continued on, not quite getting lost before popping out the other side with The Wheel leaving the crowd begging for more at 1:30 in the morning. The Band obliged with Fable of a Chosen One, another new song that had not left me with an impression until I heard it here live. I was hoping for Visions Under the Moon /Penumbra but the high energy and rhythmical beat of Chosen One did not disappoint as Nelson and company really turned it up for one last time before calling it a night. Visions will just have to wait until some other stealth DNB visit to the LA basin. Hmmm... my friend does own a bar in Hermosa...
The Gone Orchestra, Rockin Teenage Combo, and Daevid Allen and the University of Errors
July 22, 1999 - University of Errors" @ Berbatti's Pan, SW Portland, ORWhoa! These past couple of days i've seen a wide array of eclectic and eccentric music. "It is time for music!", the world is proclaiming. "The Gone Orchestra" are a wild bunch of musicians. This evening there was a fellow playing a rubber band ( that sounded like a trumpet ), a fellow playing a theremin, a drummer ( from the McMenamins Marching Band, another great Portland band ), a trombone player, a trumpet player, a bass player, three keyboardists, a bassoon player, two guitar players and some great bluesy vocals. A member of the band describes "The Gone Orchestra" as, "They've got pictures of the sun, and the center is this bright, burning core. Every once in a while there'll be a prominence, and the prominence coming out from the core is the solo. In other jazz bands, the prominence is what it's all about, the solo is the core. The Gone Orchestra is the opposite of that." (from Willamette Week, July 28th, 1999, Vol.25, Issue 39, Dundas, Z., "The Sailor Man") Listening to The Gone Orchestra brought memories of once when I was invited into an ashram in Pushkar. It was just after the camel festival, I had been out swimming with the Koi earlier in the day and at sunset I was invited into a beautiful ashram for some sort of meditation. The friars of this ashram wore long matted hair and beards and went about the car-less streets almost naked in states of holy/healthy poverty, begging for alms. At sunset these sadhus all arrived at the ashram to the calling of a sonorous bell ringing from the central tower. As the sadhus arrived they began playing an wide assortment of unusual instruments in a totally free fashion. This orchestra lasted for a while and it seemed grand musical compositions were materializing and dematerializing right before my eyes and ears, culminating in a crescendo of super reverberation that felt like it was lifting our spirits upwards and out the top of the central tower. Man, I didn't quite know what hit me, kind of like when The Gone Orchestra busted into "Hard Time Boogie" at Berbatti's. ("It's a hard time! All the Time!") These guys are great if you get a chance to see them, and I hear that they have three albums out, with a fourth one on the way. I've seen "Rockin Teenage Combo" about three times and every time I have been impressed with their talent. "Rockin Teenage Combo" are a three piece avant garde instrumental jazz band from Seattle, consisting of Dara Quinn on piano/keyboards, P.K. on upright and electric bass, and Oliver Clomp on drums. I believe that every artist/poet/musician desires an audience, and that for the muses to really work, you need the audience/art(artist) dialectic to occur, and if there is not much of an audience then the art(artist) may have hard time getting the muses to posses it(him/her). Yet this evening there was not much of an audience at Berbatti's, but "Rockin Teenage Combo" still kicked out the jams and played as if they were possessed. RTC has a new CD out "Mr. Birdy's Fryday" which is pretty good. Mr. Birdy's Fryday is not driving music, but is more a sit back on the couch, with a cup of mushroom tea type of music. This CD feels Nirvanaesque in that many of the songs use a piano/forte cycle of playing. I enjoy Mr. Birdy's Fryday in the parts where it is more traditional jazz and classical music, this is where the band seems to be grooving, some of the effects and sharp transitions can be quite jarring. "Rockin Teenage Combo" is passionate about their music, and someday soon I hope to be in a crowd getting down to a soulful Slinkshot, Loaded, or PBJ. "Daevid Allen and the University of Errors" are a good trip. Daevid Allen is some sort of wild english poet/storyteller/actor/musician. Mr. Allen has a colorful change of costumes, and plays a rippen lead guitar, his whammy bar on the fret board effects are stellar. "The University of Errors" are a young band of musicians from the Bay area, some of the guys are from the band "Mushroom", and these guys are all right, although Daevid is really the center of attention. If you want to see something bewildering and unique, Daevid Allen and the University of Errors are for you. -GW
Making The Most of IT
Every day it seems, a new entity appears on the horizon of the jamband ocean. Often, upon closer inspection, I find many of these bands dole out nothing more than a tired rehash of an artform that in my opinion was perfected by Phish. Less frequently, some bands are actually capable of fighting through the Phish net to develop their own style and soul while staying true to the exploratory nature of the music. I believe what sets the two types of bands apart is the underlying motivation of the performers. Those bands which stick to the formula, that don't develop their own style, that do not innovate, are really just in it to make a buck. Sadly, I presume that most don't even accomplish this goal. The bands which stand out to me, appear to be motivated by their love of music alone. They are musicians for the sake of music. They love to play, anytime, anywhere, whether the performance is for two people or twenty thousand.
During the past month I have had the opportunity to catch performances by several bands, from a variety of pigeonholes, who indeed stay true to their love for music. Two of these bands, though drastically different in their musical style as well as the setting of each of their performances, fully captured my attention with the emotion and intensity of their playing. The guys in each of the bands obviously love what they are doing and as a result, made the most of their opportunity to perform.
The World Hemp Festival held in Coburg, Oregon on July 16-18, 1999 at the property of local cannabis activist Bill Conde was the launching pad for my first ride on the Cosmic Freeway. Each of the past two years Mr. Conde's farm was the site of the High Times World Hemp Exposition and Extravaganza (WHEE!!!). This year, for unknown reasons (though I have my suspicions), High Times moved WHEE to Ohio leaving Mr. Conde and his Hi-Five productions to their own devices. Hi-Five's efforts did not disappoint the assemble crowd of mostly young, mostly attractive hempsters as far as I could tell.
I had jettisoned from my daytime position of small-time defender of the environment about five on friday afternoon. My truck loaded with all the necessities for a weekend of the unkown. What would the hemp festival have to offer besides the obvious? How would it compare to my experiences the previous weekend at "Fair"? My only goals for the weekend were to finally catch a musical ride on the Cosmic Freeway and help Master Motorhome celebrate the anniversary of his birth. Anything beyond that was pure gravy. To my extreme delight....the weekend had a LOT of gravy and nothing got burned or looted.
I arrived at the festival early (as it would turn out) on Friday evening to find a field full of cars on one side of a country road and a field full of vendors, tents, and a stage (all of which were behind a fence) on the other side of the road. I parked my car and headed towards the stage. I arrived at the fence behind it just in time to catch both the end of Cosmic Freeway's last song and a stage crew pass that was hurled over the fence at me by one of the Tahoe crew (thanks Dave!!!). Strolling confidently through the entertainers entrance, I flashed my pass and hooked up with the band and crew backstage. After making sure all the band's equipment was safely in one pile at the side of the stage, Justin (Clarke, Cosmic Freeway bassist) led me out in front of the stage to meet up with Master Motorhome and Sister Serafina. From there we made out way through the extremely mellow crowd to the Cosmic Freeway home on wheels.
Once inside the bus we developed a plan for the weekend. In the words of Viv Savage the goal it seemed was "to have a good time....all the time." This good time would include Cosmic Freeway setting up and playing a two plus hour set for the assembled glow stick eating rave kidz on Saturday night after things quieted down on the main stage. After wading through some puddles, we decided we needed to get the birthday boy party support vehicle through security to park it alongside the bus.
Armed with our entertainer/stage crew passes we pulled up to the vendor/service entrance of the festival. Sister Seraf went inside to do the sweet talking while I guarded the gate and Master Motorhome gunned his engine. A gruff looking security officer approached the padlocked gate from the inside. "What the hell is this now?" he demanded. "A truck trying to get inside to the Cosmic Freeway tourbus to drop off some equipment" I replied. "Tell him to take it somewhere else, the gate's closed.....IT'S YOUR JOB!!!" Just like that I had become a fully employed defender of the service entrance. Minutes later, Sister Seraf arrived with the keymaster, the gate slid open, and I abandoned my post for the rest of the weekend. I sure hope the weak link in security I created was not a problem.
The hard part done for the evening we settled into a long night of merriment and music. Highpoints for the night were the sometimes soulful Portland rap crew Hungry Mob, the bouncy caribbean reggae of Shamir, a quietly blazing set from local latin funkateers Rubberneck, a late night tea tent/opium den acoustic set from Jupiter Hollow, and a drum circle dance of the naked banshees at the fire ring. Rubberneck had been in high gear, in the midst of a blazing jam that would have made Carlos Santana proud when the sheriff arrived. Rubberneck was ordered off stage to the boos of the assembled crowd. Our host Bill Conde came out to explain that he had to make a curfew deal with local law enforcement to even have the event happen. But, if we danced quietly, Rubberneck would be allowed to come back out to play at reduced volumes. As the super quiet set progressed, the irony of the situation was hammered home when the music was drowned out by the Georgia Pacific logging trucks that growled past the stage. The trucks carrying the corpses of the most recently slaughtered trees to the lumber mill, taunted the celebration of the fiber that could be used as a replacement for the victims of arboreal carnage. There ought to be a law. The festivities on the main stage closed out with a scene destined to set the tone for the rest of the evening. An ecstatic exhibitionist joined the band onstage to close out the set. The woman obviously had something to say, though she could not find the words. Sadly, the only thing that came out of her mouth when she stepped to the microphone was the undigested remains of her dinner (mostly LIQUID from what I could tell).
Moving from the main stage to the tea tent we found Jupiter Hollow playing an acoustic opium den set for a few dozen folks strewn about the floor in sleeping bags. Jupiter Hollow is still another jamband (who would play very well on the main stage on Sunday) that recently relocated from somewhere in Missouri to Eugene. I liked what I heard from them both Friday and Sunday and I hope they make it up to Portland soon.
Next stop after the teat tent was the dance of the naked banshees and drum jam at the fire ring. As the flames danced, the drummers beat out a rhythm for the cathartic gesticulation of half a dozen daughters of the goddess. Quite a scene, very primal, bordering on pure carnality. Finally making our way back to the bus we settled into a night long celebration of the season. I made the trade of the evening when a guy in the midst of a rendevous in a tent ran up to me and pleaded for a beer. He gave me a ten strip, so I gave him two. I awoke to a blazing sun, face down on one of the benches in the bus, ready for another day of fun. We wandered the vendor booths. We made a beer run, this time getting my truck inside the compound. I tried out some Keef. Who takes the time to harvest that stuff?
The Zen Tricksters were the Saturday night headliner. The Scarlet>Fire was good. I could have done without the rest of their show to be honest.
All day long the idea of Cosmic Freeway playing a late night set was bouncing around the bus. Much to my delight it finally happened. The gear had arrived back at the bus from the main stage sometime mid afternoon. After spending the evening getting an astronomy lesson from Joe and splitting my ten strip with the birthday boy I was ready for the performance. Around 1:00 A.M. the gear started to come back out of the bus. To pass the time I went down to the rave tent to check out the glow-stick art project. Ran into Fletch and decided it was time to go back to the bus. Finally around 2:00 the signpost to the Cosmic Freeway was in my site. It turned out to be quite a ride.
As is often the case, it is easiest to describe what a band is like by comparing them to something familiar. The sounds I heard coming from Cosmic Freeway that night were what I would imagine the product of sending James Brown, Jim Morrison, Pink Floyd, and the Dead circa 1973 out into the desert with a gallon zip-lock bag full of peyote buttons and a mobile studio would be. Blazing spacy funk to rock your soul. Scattered among over two and a half hours of kick ass original tunes (most of which I regret to report I do not know the names of) Cosmic Freeway played the HELL out of Shakedown Street, funked their way through a James Brown cover I cannot remember, and melted out of a 4:20 fueled ambient wash into Pink Floyd's Echoes. The surprise of the night arrived when the band dropped on a dime out of Echoes into a Shakedown reprise (this coming shortly after I was introduced to the crystal elves with the fluorescent beach balls who inhabit the core of the sun). Throughout it all Joe, Justin, Joe, Fletch, and Chris seemed ecstatic to be playing for the 80 or so people that writhed around the bus. Their jams were inventive, fresh, and filled with joy and love. "I'm talking about LOVE...LOVE....LOVE....how many of you are really ALIVE???" As the sun began to rise over the Coburg Hills escarpment I felt truly blessed to have been in attendance. It was one of those legendary musical moments that countless thousands will some day claim to have been a part of. Keep in mind...I was watching all who were in attendance and I WILL call you on your bullshit. But much more importantly... who has the tapes?
Much more recently, at the 4th annual Hyacinth House post industrial garden party, I was once again struck by a genuine, passionate, performance under less than ideal circumstances. Carolina Pump Station, a local Portland bluegrass ensemble had been invited to perform at the party. Unlike previous years, the weather did not cooperate with the planned day in the garden. When the band finally arrived at midnight, the party was a loose collection of stragglers rather than the raging bash they were expecting. Not dissuaded by the lack of an audience Josh, Bill, Mike, and Jeff settled in around the campfire and played for the survivors. Covering a range from Doc Watson, through Pure Prairie League, the Dead, and several recently penned originals. I actually found myself enjoying acoustic folk/bluegrass for the first time in my life. Undeniably the high point of the set was a stellar version of Poor Heart>Rolling in My Sweet Baby's Arms>Poor Heart>Rolling in My Sweet Baby's Arms. The segues were ABSOLUTELY seamless. Flawless. Jawdropping. Catch them soon in a Portland bar near you. Especially if the Captain is going to be there....man that guy is hilarious.
Cosmic Freeway have a CD called Red Flowers available for download via MP3 on www.goodnoise.com. Check out the free sample at the very least! And from what I understand are planning to be blowing shit up in the Black Rock Desert early in September. They are reason enough to head on down to Burning Man if you can. If things work out...I hope to make the most of it myself.
15th Annual Coastal Protection Music Festival
August 7 & 8, 1999 - San Gregorio, CAEvery August in the small California coastal town of San Gregorio (about halfway between San Francisco & Santa Cruz), a small music festival is held in a cow pasture just inland from Highway 1. The festival benefits three local environmental organizations seeking to protect endangered species and their habitats in the surrounding coastal watersheds. This year's musical acts, ten each day (about a buck per band), alternated between a larger, electric stage and a smaller, acoustic one while M.C. Sabrina Matthews (a stand-up comic) kept the audience informed and amused throughout the weekend. The bands covered a wide range of styles, from bluegrass to folk-based pop and from country rock to post-punk surf. Many of the groups were from the surrounding area, with the headliners (The Mermen on Saturday and Box Set Duo on Sunday) hailing from San Francisco.
Saturday's show opened with the Harmony Grits, an outstanding bluegrass quartet. Their clean, crisp sound meshed perfectly with the clear, crisp day which seemed to have appeared magically after several days of gloomy overcast just as the festivities began. The sun never stopped shining and neither did the music. JC Flyer played a rocking set of country-influenced tunes which featured some outstanding guitar and pedal steel work. Jay Howlett, Rebeka Jaqua, and David Elias all displayed their considerable singer-songwriting skills in their respective "acoustic stage" sets, and the Claddagh Band put a little Irish into their rock-based numbers. The day finished with the hilltops turning from gold to bronze to red as The Mermen had all but a few of the festival-goers dancing away in front of the stage. Their hour-plus set of post-punk surf music tinged with jazz and rock was mesmerizing, truly a jamband experience. The heady songwriting (all instrumentals) of lead guitarist Jim Thomas coupled with the muscular playing of the rest of the band made their performance a memorable one. Of particular interest was the harp-like, silvery one-string bass that the bassist (whose name I didn't catch) played for about half of the songs. The sounds coming from this instrument, while certainly bass-like, seemed to have been lifted directly from the ocean, reinforcing the surf element in the music. The wave of joy created by The Mermen undoubtedly had the crowd surfing their smiles all the way home.
Arriving a little late on Sunday, I was greeted by the wonderful harmonies of Abbey Linfert & Friends covering one of my favorite John Prine tunes, "Angel from Montgomery," a great omen for another great day. The positive vibrations continued with the homegrown reggae stylings of Holy Smoke. Traditional, rabble-rousing folk was brought up-to-date in a wonderful performance by singer-songwriter Allette Brooks, and the Chazz Cats had the crowd stompin' in the sunshine with their jazzy swing set that featured the strong vocal work of Pam Brandon. The Gary Gates Band took the crowd back to the glory days of late '60's/early 70's jambands with a lengthy set that included a stellar version of "I Know You Rider." Miki Petrillo and Roger Powell (the latter formerly with Todd Rundgren's Utopia) fought their way through sound difficulties to deliver an emotional performance built around Petrillo's strong songs and equally strong alto vocals as well as Powell's alternately lilting and soaring electric guitar work. The day closed with another stellar festival performance by Box Set. Having headlined the past few years with the full band, the Duo (singer-songwriters Jim Brunberg and Jeff Pehrson) decided to go it alone this year. It's hard to imagine two guys and two guitars getting a tired, festival crowd up and moving after several hours of music, but these guys managed to do just that with a combination of infectious songs and upbeat personality. With fellow band member Sam Johnston jumping in on harmonica for several tunes, the Box Set duo clearly showed that they were having just as good a time as the crowd. While not as high-profile as other summer gatherings, the Coastal Protection Music Festival has a lot going for it. Seeing topnotch musical talent in a mellow setting, coupled with the knowledge that your ticket money (along with your beer & food money) goes to protecting the environment, leaves one on a high that lasts for several days. It's worth remembering when planning next summer's musical adventures.
For more information regarding some of the groups who benefit from the festival, check out www.outre.com/coastside.
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