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West
Regional Report
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Edited by Sarah Bruner
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In
This Issue:
Critters
Buggin' Well, officer, it all took place down at the Lava Lounge in Long Beach. It’ s kind of a strange place to begin with. It’s this funky little bar/restaurant attached to a bowling alley that somebody had decked out with torches and candles, painted walls and cut-out flames. It’s got a high sloping wood ceiling and a big fireplace kind of like a mutant ski lodge from Dante’s Inferno. Definitely the kind of place where weird things could happen. Anyway, everything started off normal enough. I had stopped in for a beer the night of November 17th and found out there was going to be music. The band came out to tune their instruments, and the audience seemed to be gently soaking up the mellow vibes of the room. Just as the band seemed ready to begin their set, though, they got up and walked off the stage. The next thing I know there’s a loud noise at the door and this mob of space aliens come running in. I mean, I didn’t know what they were at first, but that’s the only way I can explain them. There must have been five or six of them. One looked like a giant gorilla, another was dressed like a clown with an enormous dunce’s cap. Another one appeared to be all wrapped in gauze. And they all had silver capes and went running around the bar, the one with the dunce’s cap apparently intent on destroying all the others. After a few minutes of this terrifying display, apparently seeking refuge, four of the aliens jumped up on the stage, and began berating The Clown, saying they were here to play SERIOUS music, not CLOWN music. And they did start playing music. At least of a sort, though it was nothing you’ve ever heard on Earth before, that’s for sure. There were no “songs” as far as I could tell, just these floating, spacey sounds, punctuated intermittently by a driving beat, then suddenly by no beat at all. Then it was all beat and nothing else. And their instruments sounded all wrong too. The one they called Skerik, apparently the leader, spent much of his time behind some sort of control panel, producing odd sounds of every variety and yelling into the microphone. Then occasionally he’d pick up something that looked like a saxophone, but it was black and kind of small. Sometimes it would sound like a horn, other times it sounded like a heavily distorted electric guitar, other times it just blew pure static. Then they’d all take turns beating the hell out of the drums. Needless to say, it was more than a little overwhelming. So you can imagine my horror when I suddenly found myself drawn to the dance floor! And it was packed. Everyone there seemed to have surrendered all control to this strangely hypnotic “antimusic.” We were at the mercy of these lunatic alien space creatures bugging out on stage, and they had us rocking back and forth, jumping up and down, hootin’ and hollerin’ as if the apocalypse had come. Some time later, I really don’t know how long -- all sense of time was lost; it could have been five hours, it could have been five days…It’s almost too gruesome to go on. But at some point the music stopped. Everyone was cheering and smiling, but something was wrong. That’s when I noticed it. Oh, officer, it was horrible. There on the floor…everybody’s brains had been melted!
by Mark Sherry During the break I'm standing at the bar, ordering a pitcher, and I notice someone at my side. Sideways I tell him that I called the opener, "Abso-LUTE-ly, Sweet Marie." He goes, "Yeah, we were gonna open up with....." WE? I turn and sure enough, David Nelson is standing there grinning. He lists off the three songs they were gonna open with, ignoring my pride of Marie. So I'm scribbling madly on a bar napkin... and for the life of me and mine, I do not have this today. He said it quickly, as though I knew the titles of his songs; well, in all honesty, I know a few but many I do not. I do, however, absolutely love this band. They have a raw, rootsy sound one friend dubbed "swamp music" some years ago. I always thought that was somehow right on the mark. This is not a term meant to diminish; indeed you can feel this music roaring out of some delta swamp of lore...there are crossroads and crossroads bars in this music. The twang of Nelson's Telecaster is rooted in country, bluegrass, real rock and roll. Seasoned. Johnny Cash, not one of them purty boy entertainers. Most important to me, I feel incredibly fortunate to see this great band in so small a venue. One of the first times I saw DNB was in early 1997 at Java Joe's Cafe in Ocean Beach, right around the corner from Winston's. Matthew Kelly was there with his wife that night and he sat in for a few tunes. I was blown away to see these Bay Area legends just hanging out and playing in a small, corner beach cafe. We had the best-kept secret in town that night with plenty of elbow room to spin your spinner. I guess my point is to encourage you to get out and support this band and so many others who are out there in clubs playing the raw goods. Revel in seeing them in small houses, where you can walk up to guys like David Nelson and his bandmates and shake their hands and enjoy a conversation with them. It's the way this music was meant to be: up close and personal, an expression of our common love and common vision. As we've all learned, the bigger venues too often give us the TV experience; us here, the band there, and n'er shall that particular twain meet. Well, here's your chance. Believe it or not you can still stomp and howl with a band as good as this in a venue that holds maybe 300 people. That's good news for all of us. I simply can't offer a set list and won't feel too bad because there are likely dozens of places you can find those. I just can't be scratching down songs on paper when I'd rather be dancing....or bangin' my mug off another mug because they're playing some old song that makes you bang mugs. It's as real as music gets. The David Nelson Band is worthy of your support. Bring your friends... all of 'em! Absolutely.
The Battle For Seattle: The Dark Side of the moe.llennium The conclusion of moe.'s Quest for Ray tour found the band travelling through the rather disturbing social, political, and economic upheaval that befell the Pacific Northwest during the first week of December. As moe. was heading north to Oregon, battle lines were being drawn between predominantly peaceful demonstrators (protesting the World Trade Organization conference) and the stormtroopers of the Seattle Police Department and King County Sheriff's Department. Being pretty clueless overall with regard to the reasons for a protest of the WTO conference, I drove up to Seattle early on the morning of November 30th to learn the issues. Unfortunately, I instead learned that the front lines of a wholly UNCIVIL war is not the place to find rational discourse. In a way I am thankful that I had the great displeasure of witnessing (and suffering) countless instances of the unprovoked atrocities committed by Seattle's finest against the peaceful protesters and many innocent bystanders who picked the wrong day to go Christmas shopping. The brutality of the stormtroopers and the tactics they used to "secure" the downtown area were sickening (both figuratively and literally) and by now have been discussed to death. Rather than take the opportunity to give another eyewitness account of concussion grenades, tear gas, and rubber bullets, I'd instead like to point out the most important thing I took away from the nastiness in Seattle. I learned a lesson that has significant implications for many of us as we plan for what may be the biggest party of our lifetimes. Martial law and the loss of all of our rights as citizens of the United States is just a minor case of civil disobedience away. The WTO protests in Seattle were nothing more than a live-fire training exercise for the enforcement arm of the government as they make their final preparations for Y2K. Clearly, as we prepare for our respective trips to Big Cypress, Poughkeepsie, Times Square, San Francisco, Portland, Las Vegas or (fill in destination of your choice here), our government is preparing to abolish the Constitution and make war against we the people, all we have to do is give them a reason. The events in Seattle suggest to me that even if we don't give them a reason they could fabricate one easily enough. If the three moe. shows I attended following my return from Seattle are any indication of what is going to go down in Poughkeepsie, Governor Pataki may be the first guy who calls in the national guard on New Year's Eve. The boys in moe. are certainly going to be guilty of inciting a riot through multiple acts of civil disobedience with the large array of incendiary jams and percussion grenades they are presently in possession of. These shows were HUGE. The night of December 1st found me back at WOW hall in Eugene, exactly two months after the Disco Biscuits had torn up the small hall. The setlist: 12/1/99 Woodsmen Of The World Hall - Eugene, OR Jam-> Mexico-> Captain America-> Recreational Chemistry-> Bring It Back Home-> Drums-> Brent Black-> Drums-> Seat Of My Pants-> Sensory Deprivation Bank E: Spine Of A Dog, Take The Money and Run does nothing to describe the immensity of the musical performance. The show was way too big for the room which is basically the size of an elementary school basketball court. We walked into WOW hall a few minutes into the opening jam which preceded Mexico. This jam was in a word incredible, imagine Neil Young's Rocking in the Free World, Lynyrd Skynyrd's Free Bird, and the Dead's Fire on the Mountain all being played at the same time. The show continued from there for three solid hours NONSTOP! In each and every case there was a completely seamless segue from one song to another. During the course of this jam filled evening it became clear to me that moe. has perfected the art of live "sampling". They have gone beyond teasing other songs to actually lifting musical passages and then distorting and rearranging the riffs as they jam over and around them. Since, as is typical, I took no notes during the show, I cannot give actual setlist locations for, but heard teases or jams of Led Zeppelin's Rock-n-Roll, Cream's White Room, the Dead's Dark Star, Rage Against the Machine's Guerilla Radio, as well as Chalkdust Torture and Fluffhead Phish snippets. I actually enjoyed the drum jam. Al, Jim and Vinnie together are Not quite Stanton Moore, but it was in no way annoying. This show made it apparent that unlike the riot troops in Seattle, moe. have their hose out and are spraying down their crowds with it at every opportunity. The encore for me was a throwaway after so much stellar and inventive improvisation during the show. Spine of a Dog might as well have been No Doy playing over the PA and Steve Miller? Blech!!! The Quest for Ray moved north to Portland the following day to the stately confines of the Crystal Ballroom. Please, if you are ever in Portland, go to a show at the Crystal Ballroom. It won't matter who it is (even Vanilla Ice!!) you will enjoy yourself because of the venue alone. Where the WOW hall show had the feel of a decent band playing a crowded oversized bar, the Crystal shows were like being on the set of a VH1 behind the music special on a rock-n-roll giant. Once again moe. lived up to the test and rocked the strangely vacant Crystal Ballroom. A lot of the crowd which was about four times larger for the Friday night show may have been across town at the Aladdin for Karl Denson and DJ Logic on Thursday. 12/2/99 Crystal Ballroom - Portland, OR Set
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II E: Don't Fear the Reaper From the opening In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida Jam on, the thursday night show was another unbelievable night of lifted tracks and samples melded into a sound all of its own. You really need to hear the tapes to believe what these guys are doing. If you don't have New Year's plans yet and can't afford the trip to Florida, go to the moe.llenium show. The most notable of the samples at the first Crystal show was the use of the Clash's Radio Clash and Lionel Richie's All Night Long as foundations for epic house music rave jams. The lyrics of St. Augustine struck me as especially poignant considering what was going on in Seattle: "Where are YOU gonna run when they come for you?....they'll hear you playing your guitar" The improvisation in Moth was probably the high point of the show. If I believed the word Jam was useful in a setlist (I don't by the way), Moth>JAM>Moth would be an understatement. It had the disorienting power of a concussion grenade, the sting of a rubber bullet, and was capable of inducing more tears (from sheer beauty) than any amount of tear gas could. Unlike the previous night, the classic rock nugget that moe unleashed for the encore was a treasure. A near perfect (the guitar solo was a little shaky) rendition of Blue Oyster Cult's Don't Fear The Reaper was a fantastic way to end the show. Take the money and STAY for tomorrow night. 12/3/99 Crystal Ballroom - Portland, OR Set
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II E: Godzilla I arrived at the Crystal friday night about halfway through Stranger Than Fiction with a blinding headache caused by my attending the ultra stuffy christmas party for Nature's Northwest in the lobby of a sterile technochratic monstrosity of a building in northwest Portland. The music was an instant antidote to my pain. Plane Crash as always had me giddy with glee and by the time it had ended any memory of the discomfort I had experienced earlier in the evening had faded away. The second set was entirely orgasmic. The jam between Bring You Down and Meat consisted of a delicate blend of musical threads I like to call Fire on the Meatstick. The segue into Meat was a foregone conclusion. Either Bring You Down or Rebubula featured a Shine On You Crazy Diamond tease from Al. There were also samples of Van Halen's Running With The Devil and a bizarre "reverse" Down With Disease Jam. By reverse I mean to say, that like every song, Down With Disease has spaces between the notes which are played. What I call a reverse jam is to play the notes that are in the spaces and put spaces where the notes should go. Perhaps this has an actual musical definition, but I don't know what it is called. Once again moe. closed out the night with another classic rock gem, returning to the BOC catalog to destroy Tokyo. The Godzilla was much, much tighter than the Reaper the night before and featured a great vocal rave jam. As moe. left the stage on friday, Al reminded us to bring our flame throwers to Seattle and offered a free bumper sticker to anyone who wore a gas mask. Reports from Seattle indicate Rob played the entire first set dressed as an anarchist complete with gas mask. He could have been arrested for this. I am overjoyed by the fact that I will be in the middle of a swamp in southern Florida when the clock strikes midnight ushering in Y2K. The chances that tear gas, pepper spray, concussion grenades, and rubber bullets will be used against me there are slim to none. If for some reason the power goes out, I am sure Phish will play acoustic, there will be no riots, there will be no stormtroopers. I cannot say the same for the rest of the country. If things get ugly I may ask for asylum from the Seminole nation. For those of you who will be out in the world controlled by the WTO on December 31st, try not to give the stormtroopers a reason to fuck you up... they WILL do it. |
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