Recoil

Recoil Party in Prague 9/29/07, filmed, mixed and uploaded by recoilogy.com

I found the link to this essay by Recoil mastermind Alan Wilder through a blog post by electronic artist James D. Stark. It's a fascinating read for those of you who, like me, enjoy obsessively contemplating changing technology and how the old fogies at the major labels can't keep up with the times.

Wilder is an innovator in a music industry marked by mediocrity. I say this as a matter of fact, not simply because I have been a fan of his work since I was 10 years old and bought a copy of Depeche Mode's Music for the Masses, which stayed locked in my tape player for months. Prior to the release of subHuman, he sent out various YouTube videos updating fans on the status of the project. This was an excellent move and other musicians dealing with loyal fan bases should take note of it. How can I prove that the films worked? Well, my friend Annie and I, aka the San Fernando Valley Alan Wilder Appreciation Association, couldn't stop talking about the then-forthcoming release for almost a year. He is also a stellar producer and I recommend any reader heed his wisdom on sound quality in the MP3 age. Personally, I tried to get with the times and download my music like everyone else, but it didn't take long for me to learn that the sound quality is abysmal. Wilder's example of Arctic Monkey's hit "I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor" is a great example of volume or sophistication. Thanks to Mr. Wilder, I now understand why I can't muster up the energy to care about much contemporary music. It's not that I'm old!

Anyhow, last summer, I had the privilege to interview Alan Wilder over the phone for The Rockit, the magazine I used to edit. I really enjoyed the interview, not so much because of my interest in his music (oftentimes, you can be a fan of an artist and find out he/she is a bore to interview) but because his answers were quite informative.

Since The Rockit never archived stories, I am posting the text of the article below. If you would like, I might post the Q/A later, but that might read oddly because the cross-seas connection was shite.

Recoil: It Doesn't End with the First Listen

By: Liz Ohanesian

Published: August, 2007 in The Rockit

The first notice came in October, 2006 by way of a video recorded a month prior and posted on YouTube by MuteChannel. Alan Wilder sat in an iron-trimmed chair in the corner of a neutral colored room, dressed in black and sporting sunglasses and messy auburn hair. His voice echoed as he spoke to his fans briefly and almost vaguely about the events of the past year, wherein he had taken to recording his fifth studio album as Recoil. More than half a decade had elapsed since his last album, Liquid, and more than 10 years had flown by since he left Depeche Mode. For people like me, who had followed Wilder's career throughout the majority of our lives, this video was a revelation. Finally, our beloved wizard of dark electronics was back.

"People definitely appreciated it," says Wilder of the initial YouTube message and several follow-ups that appeared over the course of the next 10 months. "One of the things that I really quite enjoy about the MySpace Generation is that the fans can talk to each other and also to the artist. With YouTube, it really lets you know who your audience [is] and what they want and what they think about."

Wilder's fans are a devoted and vocal lot. In the weeks that passed since the artist's first YouTube appearance, his legions took to message boards on sites like depechemode.com to share their excitement, wish him well and make a few cracks about his unkempt hair.

Whether coincidental or not, when Wilder made his second video message in April of this year (which, actually, wasn't online until May), he sported a new, clean-cut style. It was in this second video that fans were introduced to the voice of Joe Richardson, an Austin-based blues musician whose rough vocals drive the bulk of Recoil's latest album, subHuman. (British singer Carla Trevaskis also contributed to the effort and provides a thoughtful counterpoint to Richardson's often severe tones.)

With subHuman, it appeared to fans that Wilder was fully realizing an electronic approach to the blues that had been bubbling beneath the surface of his career for years. Throughout his two-decade tenure as Recoil, Wilder has often experimented with the style. The most noteworthy of these tests is "Electro Blues for Bukka White," which revolved around a recording of "Shake 'em on Down" from the renowned delta blues artist and was released on the 1991 album Bloodline. (Keep in mind that this was years before Moby utilized Alan Lomax's catalog of field recordings on Play.)

"It's more by accident than design," says Wilder of subHuman's leanings, "but it's clear that the blues keeps cropping up in my music, so it's obvious that it is something I'm interested in."

Recoil began in 1986, when Mute label head Daniel Miller heard some four-track demos Wilder had created. For years, the endeavor remained the musician's side project, something to entertain his less commercial leanings while enjoying the downtime between commitments to his primary band. After his 1995 split with Depeche Mode, though, Recoil became Wilder's full-time gig, sporadic as his releases are.

"I would say that all of the sounds that you hear in Recoil are a reflection of my musical tastes and the things that I listen to and have listened to over the years," Wilder explains. "There are all kinds of things in there, but this blues thing does keep recurring. I just go with it really."

He continues, "I just started making music this time around and it all seemed to naturally go off in that kind of direction, so I thought, I'm not going to fight it. I will go with the flow. From there, it was the case, let's go find an authentic blues singer to do some sort of justice to that. Hence, we have Richardson."

Wilder happened upon the singer while perusing the Internet for stylistically appropriate artists. Eventually, he traveled to Austin to record Richardson on the blues man's home turf.

"We actually recorded, I think, eight or nine tracks, of which we used five," says Wilder. "I had to record vocals, guitars, bass and drums, so we were stuck in the studio most of the time."

They worked in a studio filled with vintage gear throughout a week of 100 degree heat that gave way to the Texas-sized mosquitoes that made a meal out of Wilder.

On his night off, Wilder went to see Joe Richardson Express play at one of the group's resident venues. "It was really interesting and quite a culture shock, when you come from England, to suddenly be in the middle of that environment with every bar with an open door and a blues band playing."

For the bulk of the album, the two worked in standard Recoil fashion, where Wilder creates a "sound bed of atmosphere, some kind of loose structure" to which the collaborator adds a piece and the pair continues from there. In two exceptional cases, "Backslider" and "5000 Years," Richardson provided Wilder with the bones of the songs, which were then fleshed to perfection. In the case of "5000 Years," which deals with the current conflict in the Middle East, Richardson's lyrics became the centerpiece of the track.

"There was very much a focus on his words from the start," says Wilder. "So, of course, I started thinking, how can I enhance the feeling or the meaning of the song? Of course, I tried to create the picture to go with the words. In that case, it's going to be a comment on the Middle East conflict."

In "5000 Years," Wilder creates a densely-layered piece filled with the purr of helicopters and stomp of foot steps. Somewhere interwoven into the track is an assortment of Middle Eastern sounds.

"If I remember rightly, I kind of pitched it down and reversed it and then stuck it through an amp," says Wilder of the samples he used in this instance. He could not recall the actual source material.

"I've got such a strange library or catalog of bits and pieces that I turn to and then I kind of use my tools and various boxes until something comes out of the other end and has the right feel," he explains.

Through Recoil, Wilder has been able to foster a sound that is reflective of the era in which it was made without sounding particular to that time.

"In some ways, my music is very modern, but in other ways, I don't think it fits in with the current scene," he acknowledges.

"I just put music together in a way that sounds right to me and interesting and I do things that I want to hear," Wilder adds. "Maybe I'm influenced by those things because I don't hear them anywhere else…In that sense, I'm analyzing it, but, generally, I'm trying to work with it instinctively, intuitively and let one experiment lead to the next to see where it goes."

He concludes, "I'm always going to be interested in a kind of depth to the sound and space in the sound and trying to create a picture and my music always seems to have a lot of layers and depth to it because that is what I enjoy. Anytime I listen to a record, I want to hear something new with it. I don't want it to be over with one listen."

RIP Buddy Miles

Read the obituary here.


California Raisins commercial featuring Buddy Miles, originally uploaded by wdln.



Band of Gypsys 12/31/69, originally uploaded by Stratobendix81

When Something Actually Happens on the Sunset Strip

I loathe the Sunset Strip. This is no secret. The traffic angers me. The crowd makes me cringe and the thought of the amount I have to pay for one night on the Strip causes me to get lightheaded.

I wish I could tell you that the Strip is going under some sort of resurgence, but that would be a lie. It is still an airbrushed cesspool filled with rotten drivers and tacky suburbanites who scream things like, "Hey, want to party with us?" (Do I look like the sort of girl who would party with Linkin Park-loving ruffians?) The high cost of the Strip has gone down, however, $5 parking, $2 sodas and free gigs aren't enough to make me head west of Fairfax. Nope, I only go to the Strip for one reason and that's because I really dig your band, as with Pop Noir's gig at the Key Club last night.

I came into contact with Pop Noir when it was just a duo consisting of Manchester-born twin brothers Joe and Luke McGarry. I was DJing at the Airliner in Lincoln Heights and the band just happened to be on the bill. The style was minimal but with a strong pop sensibility, clearly the result of listening to New Order's Power, Corruption and Lies. In the two or three years that have passed, the duo became a trio with the addition of Chilean drummer Nico Saavedra and has grown in both musicianship and songwriting skills.

Last night was the final installment of Pop Noir's Tuesday night residency at the Key Club. The crowd was substantial, more than half full, and the band benefited from the only worthwhile feature of Sunset Strip clubs-- a good soundsystem. I have seen Pop Noir play at least ten times and can honestly say that I have never heard the band sound so good.



Pop Noir opened with a cover of "Waterfront," a British-styled arena rock anthem from Simple Minds. Despite being at the Key Club instead of Wembley Stadium, Pop Noir maintained the intensity of the original. It was a wise choice. I imagine many of the people in the club would be too young to remember the original (hell, I'm almost too young to remember it) and Simple Minds haven't really benefited from the '80s revival, so it isn't as obvious as working in a New Order or Cure number. Shockingly, the band learned the song less than a week ago and this was the second time it had been incorporated into the set.

The bulk of the set relied on original material, infectious pieces like "Don't Fool Yourself" and "Santa Ana" that feel like well-known radio hits were it not for the fact that they aren't.


Joe


Luke


Nico

The crowd was especially receptive to the set. Apparently, the guys in the front row had been to all four performances of the residency. They were dancing during the entire set.



By the end of the set, when the band busted into its cover of "Paint It Black," Luke was in the middle of the crowd.




I felt proud to see this young band grow so much in just a few years and hopeful that good things will fall Pop Noir's way in the future. This show was definitely worth heading out to the Strip.

A Series of Unfortunate Events: The Bad Beginning by Lemony Snicket

When I was a child, I learned a thing or two from reading the works of Roald Dahl. The most important of these lessons is that adults are, more often than not, either evil or oblivious and, to co-opt Lemony Snicket's writing style, by oblivious I mean "lacking conscious awareness; unmindful."

As an adult, I have only received mountains of proof substantiating the notion that adults are either evil or oblivious. All you need to do is watch the news or enter the workforce and you too will realize the same. So it is through this lens of animosity towards grown ups (hey, just become I am one doesn't mean I have to think like one) that I read the first installment of Lemony Snicket's 13-part serial A Series of Unfortunate Events.

Snicket, or his alter ego, seems mighty influenced by Dahl and Edward Gorey. Like the former, most of the adults in the book are worthless. Those who aren't are either dead or somehow taken away from the Baudelaire children. Like the later, bad things keep on happening to our protagonists.

The three Baudelaire children-- Violet, Klaus and Sunny-- live a rather charmed life with parents who love and respect them. Upon an unsupervised excursion to the beach, a fire consumes the Baudelaire home and kills the parents. The three children are taken into the temporary care of Mr. Poe (who has a son named Edgar, by the way) until a relative can be located. After some time, the children are pawned off on Count Olaf, a horrid actor with a title and no money. From the beginning, it is obvious that he has only taken in the children because of the vast fortune they are set to acquire. When he learns that the inheritance will be withheld until Violet is of age, he punishes the children repeatedly. We will stop there, lest I give away the end of this first book.

Aside from a page-turner plot, what works in the book's favor is the language. Snicket uses large grown-up words with the context of child-sized sentences. He defines the words without being condescending and goes on to explain many of the legal concepts that are used throughout the story. The characters are also intriguing. The adults in the story often appear as grotesque figures that make just enough sense to keep the storyline plausible. And, in the grand tradition of children's literature, the Baudelaire orphans are quick-witted and strong-willed.

I found this book as part of a three series boxed set at a thrift store by my house. Each book is small and hard covered, designed to look like a Victorian tome and filled with beautiful illustrations. Now, I can't wait to get started on volume two.

When You Can't Afford a Flight to Japan

Smack in the middle of Torrance is a wonderland filled with tofu, bean pastries, manga and Hello Kitty. Mitsuwa Marketplace is a Japanese grocery chain whose website won't translate into English for me. Alas, we will wing it.

The South Bay outpost of Mitsuwa is large, about the same size as a Costco. Roughly half the store is a grocery market specializing in Japanese food stuff. Carlos and I didn't spend too much time checking out this section. Instead, we hit the food court and the boutiques that make up the other half of the facility.

Mitsuwa's food court is overwhelming. It isn't exceptionally large, at least not in comparison to your typical mall food court, it's that there is so many kinds of food that I have never tried. Plus, many of the signs are written primarily in Japanese. After about twenty minutes of perusing menu after menu, I finally settled on the curry shack that Carlos recommended. It's a basic dish, for $3.50 you get white rice and curry then for an additional $1.50 or more, you get your choice of topping. I picked the fried tofu.



The sinus-clearing properties of this dish cannot be underestimated. I could feel the spices burn through my nose and then, suddenly, I could breathe.

We hit up one of the tchotchke shops that lines the entrance to Mitsuwa, where we found this funny little display.



In case you can't read the sign, it says:

"Real tattoo hurts a lot. Well, if you get this, you don't have to go through the pain! Just stick it on your body. How easy is that?"

As you might recall, a little over a week ago, I was freaking out because I learned that My Melody now has a goth frienemie called Kuromi. Well, I found a Kuromi key cap at this shop and had to get it.



Then Carlos got a Shin Chan cell phone charm, which is actually charming his turntables now.



Interesting to note, Shin Chan the cell phone charm is, like Shin Chan the cartoon character, bare-assed under his Action Bastard cape.



We also checked out a bookshop, which was almost a fruitless venture considering that everything is written in Japanese. (Manga fans who know the language, you can get pretty much everything here.) However, I found the new issue of Fruits. Judging from the magazine website, I have a feeling that this is actually last month's issue, but it's pretty awesome nonetheless. I have spent a few hours flipping through the magazine and noticed the following trends.

• It's really hip to look like your grandma when she gets up in the morning.
• MIA is now a bona fide fashion icon.
• The Japanese confirm my sentiments that Docs are always hot.
• Leggings should be baggy around the knees and tights should be in funky patterns.
• Wearing a dead animal around your neck is tres chic.
• Big furry hats are not only warm, but totally awesome (I prefer faux).
• Always wear a scarf, the bigger the better.
• Charms and toys are meant to be dangled from the straps of your very large handbag.
• Short hair is super cool.

I love Fruits. I love Mitsuwa. I really have to go to Japan.

A Beautiful Mess

Five minutes after we arrived at 2nd Street Jazz in Little Tokyo last night, Paul Roessler, who has played with the likes of the Screamers, Nervous Gender and Nina Hagen, took to the piano. Yes, a piano. Just because you're status in the history of L.A. punk is somewhat legendary doesn't mean you can't tickle the keys in a lilting fashion. After the prompting of Monkey Bucket, aka the dude in the fez, the crowd sat on the floor.



This was the only point in the show where there would be some semblance of decorum within the crowd, which is fine because decorum is overrated, except for when someone is playing the piano and a little less chatter is necessary.

Following Roessler was the Tleilaxu Music Machine, which is the brainchild of D. Bene Tleilax of RoMak & the Space Pirates. Feeling at a loss to describe his music at 10:30 a.m., I am instead posting the following photo that might help you get an idea of his sound.



It is a blurry, red lit haze of electronic madness, the sound of frantic dancing and feeling like you might lose your shit, or at least your watch, as one person did last night.

The crowd tossed balloons like volleyballs as a sign of approval.



And a dinosaur pinata made its way into the crowd, where one guy hoisted it upon his shoulders as though it were a drunk, topless girlfriend at a Motley Crue show.



And then the mosh pit began.



We were sitting at a table on the edge of the pit, where patron after patron knocked back to granite table top. Fortunately for the club, the table was posted into the floor. Unfortunately, for the crowd, it was not conducive for bumping.

"That girl in the plaid is going to have one bruised back tomorrow," I told Carlos, which prompted him to recall a time where he hit the pit and took a cymbal to a rib.

"My mosh pit days are over," he said.

"So are mine."

Carlos laughed, knowing full well that I run away at the sight of swarming punks.

The mosh pit may have been fun for those caught in the wave, but it was hell on the balloons.



And then there was Baseck. After a few of his tamest pieces and a collaboration with a rapper wearing raver fingers (who was that cool dude?), Baseck got all grindcore on us and brought out his dancers to help establish the mood.



At this point, the dinosaur pinata had been slaughtered and most of the balloons were popped. And the crowd, well, I gather you can guess its response.



For his last song, "Creatures of the Night," the dancers reappeared in bunny outfits.



The outfits were supposed to be puffed out with packing material. Instead, feathers were used, much to the joy of the crowd and the dismay of whoever had to close down the bar.



I feel badly for the people stuck cleaning up this mess.

The Roller Rink Disaster of 1984 (or maybe '85)

Skateland now (DJ Curley, video originally uploaded by brandonnoonen)

Northridge Skateland turned 50 with a nice write-up in the Daily News.

Throughout elementary school and junior high, we were always going to Skateland, as most of us lived walking or short-driving distance from the rink. It was everything you might imagine from watching '80s films. Lots of sweatbands and lots of HiNRG, new wave and other assorted pop of the era. Over the course of the decade, Human League and Soft Cell gave way to Expose and Stacey Q, which in turn paved the road for Technotronic and M/A/R/R/S. Meanwhile, we changed from little kids in sweatbands and dolphin shorts to a motley crew of young teens that took our fashion cues alternately from Downtown Julie Brown, Kelly Bundy and Lydia Deetz.

I still have a souvenir of those totally '80s birthday parties and school fundraisers that took place as the skating rink-- a big-ass scar on my knee from when I ate it back in 1984 (or was it '85). Regardless, it was my own damn fault.

My best friend in elementary school was this girl, we'll call her Tracy, who despite being fairly small and and blond was the class tomboy. She was the sort of girl that would drink Del Scorcho out of the packet. Yeah, that kind of badass. Now being the bff of the class tomboy wasn't so bad, it kind of kept me from getting picked on for being such a nerd. The tough part, though, was dealing with Tracy's natural athleticism. See, I am what my grandfather used to call a "hoplamaz," which is Armenian for clutz, and have been since the day I was born. Amongst my earliest achievements in life were crawling out (oddly enough) unscathed from under the Christmas tree I pulled to the ground and walking into a table, a feat that left me with a huge gash in my right eyebrow (now you know why I wax them so thin). That I managed to succeed in dance class was no small accomplishment, but the biggest challenge of my childhood was being best friends with a member of Future Jocks of America. I tried, really I tried to keep up with Tracy, but the results always seemed to involve yours truly and a trip to the nurse's office (and, on occasion, the doctor).

So, this one time, when we were in second grade, Tracy decided that we were going to race from the tetherball courts to the church steps. I was running fast enough to keep us neck and neck, until we hit the basketball court and I tripped over my shoelace. My left knee hit the asphalt. Tracy helped me limp to the nurse's office, my leg a mess of blood, hanging skin and hot, black stuff that burned with every movement. Mrs. A., the best school nurse in the history of the field, cleaned me up, causing a pain worse than the initial injury(Me: "Ow!" Her: "Now, Liz, if I don't put this on, it's only going to get infected and hurt more." Me: "Thhhokaythhh").

Weeks later, the wound had healed into a large, dark scab. One of the boys, the one who, at the age of eight had already proved himself to be a major asshole, told me that I had birdshit on my knee. He did use the word "birdshit" as well, said it five times a day until I got so irritated that I picked off the scab.

"Why did you do that?" my mom asked me.

"Because I was sick of [insert name here] telling me that it looked like birdshit."

"Elizabeth!"

"Well, that's what he said."

But, this story is supposed to be about Skateland, right?

So, I had this non-scab wound on my leg and school had just ended and this other girl had her birthday part at Skateland. While we were on the rink, Tracy had passed me up and I wanted to tell her something so I sped up to meet her, at which point I fell on my left knee.

There was blood everywhere. I couldn't look around me without seeing red liquid slithering across the floor. My pants were ruined. The waxed roller rink floor was probably ruined. And everyone around me was trying to avoid a) tripping over a sobbing eight year old girl and b) slipping in a puddle of the sobbing eight year old girl's blood.

I think one of the grown-ups had to come out on the floor and help me up. My knee throbbed and at that moment, I was thoroughly convinced that I would have to go through the rest of my life feeling nothing but physical pain and humiliation.

Ten minutes later, after some bandages and a few rounds of Ms. Pac-Man, I was back on the rink. And I think we got the blood stains out of the pants too. But that scar on my left knee, it's still there.

Threshold Sound + Vision and More

In this week's issue of the Santa Monica Mirror, I profiled Threshold Sound + Vision, a recording studio that does pretty much everything.

Recording studios are fun. I remember hanging out with Carlos in the LMU studios when we were seniors and he was recording Crom's first album and I was, quite frankly, overwhelmed by the site of all the knobs and buttons. It was enough to make my head spin, but he was good at explaining how things works, so now, when I go into studios for work purposes, I have enough of an idea of how music is made to (hopefully) ask good questions.

The actual interview was lengthy and a lot of the conversation was quite technical, so when I was actually writing the piece, I had to continually remind myself that I'm not writing for a gearhead magazine and then try to simplify things. Hopefully, it worked.

I also contributed a piece on Salvador Santana Band. I was kind of excited that I got through the entire interview without asking him questions about being the son of a very famous musician. I figured he had probably been asked that enough times.

It Begins with Fullmetal Alchemist

AMV Fullmetal Alchemist + "Requiem for a Dream" (created by netslums)

Adult Swim has brought back Fullmetal Alchemist to its weeknight post-midnight anime lineup. I humbly suggest that you check out this anime series. It's on at 12:30 and 3:30 a.m. PST.

Fullmetal Alchemist is the show that made me an anime fangirl. Sure, I watched Voltron as a child and Cowboy Bebop and Spirited Away as an adult, but I didn't get truly hooked on the genre until about two years ago. I was in grad school and maintained a schedule that involved staying up until 3 a.m. reading media criticism while watching Adult Swim and then switching over to Conan O'Brien after Aqua Teen Hunger Force. Once, though, I didn't switch channels.
"Mother" was airing. Despite being the third episode of Fullmetal Alchemist , is the piece that gives the audience the background on the story. I struck by the horrible sadness of the storyline and the teary-voiced characters and couldn't pull myself away from the television set. From that moment forward, I was addicted to the saga of the Elric brothers.

Fullmetal Alchemist is a fantasy anime with steampunk leanings. It's set in a parallel world just prior to the onset of World War I. In this alternate version of early-20th century earth, alchemy goes far beyond trying to turn mere metal into gold. Edward and Alphonse Elric, the protagonists of the story, are the sons of a famed alchemist who split when the boys were quite young. Several years later, their mother died. The grief-stricken brothers (who are only 11 and 10 at the time) had dabbled in alchemy all their lives and decided to use the ancient art to bring their mother back from the dead. The problem with this, though, is the first law of alchemy-- equivalent exchange, which maintains that in order to get something, you have to give up something of equal or greater value. In the case of the Elric brothers, this almost meant Alphonse's life, and the only reason why that was spared was because Edward, the elder brother, gave up two limbs in order to attach Al's soul to a suit of armor. I should note, though, that Al is not the fullmetal alchemist, even though he is literally composed entirely of metal. The term is actually from a Japanese slang word that means something along the lines of stubborn, which Edward certainly is. (Edward also has a metal arm and a metal leg.)

After the brothers' misfortune, they become State Alchemists, essentially military figures, so that they can further their study of alchemy and hopefully regain their former bodies. As State Alchemists, the two travel across their world and become embroiled in a series of situations that cause them to rethink their views on alchemy. Most of the situations are tied together in a web of government intrigue involving various aspects of alchemy and its practitioners. It's a show filled with suspense and as Fullmetal Alchemist progresses, the series gets darker and themes of abuse of power in both a political and spiritual sense grow more apparent.

Fullmetal Alchemist is an extremely popular anime. You can probably tell that just by searching through the AMVs (anime music videos) on YouTube and realizing that most of the songs used were probably selected by teenagers. And if you ever talk to an anime fan, it's fairly likely (at least in my experience) that Fullmetal Alchemist will come up in conversation, perhaps even more likely than mentions of mega-popular shows Naruto and Bleach.

Since discovering Fullmetal Alchemist, I've become something bordering on an anime nerd. Hell, I went to my first con in January and I have an Al keychain hanging from my Birkin-esque bag, so I probably jumped right over that line into fangirldom.

Baseck in the L.A. Weekly

Baseck @ Darkmatter


Baseck @ The Smell

My story on Baseck is out in the newest issue of the L.A. Weekly. I hope you take to the time to read it.

I loved writing this story because Baseck's music is harsh yet captivating and in person is vivacious and light-hearted and I wanted to let the mix between his music and his personality influence the structure and word choices in the piece.

This Sucks

Paraphrased from the Daily News crime reports and Glendale New Press:

A vandal spray-painted the Turkish flag on St. Peter's Armenian Church in Glendale. Incident was reported Monday afternoon. Glendale police liken the incident to painting a swastika on a Jewish synagogue. The congregation is headed by Der Hayr Vazken Movsesian, who is known for speaking out about genocide.


In 2006, Father Movsesian went to Rwanda and wrote this blog about genocide.

What's worse than the actual act of vandalism is reading chat board discussions regarding the news story. I shouldn't even look at that because everyone knows that chat boards tend to attract jerks who talk big but can't handle posting their real names. (I won't deign to link to the discussions, just use Google if you must.)

Fools, they are, chanting rants of "Armenians Go Home," when, in all likeliness, many of our families have probably been here longer than their own. If that weren't true, than yogurt and Almond Joy wouldn't exist. Nor would Alvin & the Chipmunks. Nor Cher.

Manda Rin Is Back

Bis covering "Don't You Want Me" in Glasgow last year.

Rudy Bleu of the club Outre has just started a music blog that, unlike a great many music blogs, is less concerned with being superhip and more concerned with covering underexposed music. I can already tell that he's off to a great start based on this interview with Manda Rin.

Bis was one of my absolute favorites from the moment I heard "Kandy Pop" until the band's demise and its so good to hear that Manda Rin is recording a solo effort. Judging from the tracks on MySpace, I have high hopes for the release. Kudos to Rudy for getting the scoop.

Superstar House to (Possibly) Be Demolished

(Thanks to my friend Maurice de la Falaise for sending this around MySpace way.)

Paraphrased from the Long Beach Press-Telegram.

The house that once belonged to the Carpenter family may be razed and rebuilt by its new owners. Fans of the band that wrote one of the saddest songs ever are none too pleased by this development, but, then, the owners are none too pleased with fans trolling around the property 24/7.

It Warmed the Cockles of Our Nerdy Hearts

A few weeks ago, we were at this Super Bowl party in a backyard in Highland Park and these two friends of ours mentioned that they had some friends who lived down the street and they were going to call and tell them to stop by. One of our friends mentioned that the guy in the couple does prank calls.

"Like Longmont Potion Castle?" Carlos asked.

"Actually, he is Longmont Potion Castle."

Carlos and I looked at each other and beamed with a mixture of disbelief and happiness for we love Longmont Potion Castle.

LPC released at least one CD back when we were DJs at KXLU. It was one of those discs, like Miranda July's work, that you could put on in between songs that don't quite mix together. Plus, the LPC calls are freakin' hysterical. So, when we started dating, we were always quoting LPC, particularly one involving a guy named Gomez.

"What do you want from me? Do you want jewels?"

"I'm a very extravagant man."

Mr. Longmont Potion Castle did end up at the party and we did get to chat with him. He was cool. We were cool. And the memory of the Gomez call lives on in our minds. Alas, I couldn't find a Gomez clip online, but you can check out more audio at MySpace.

Here's an interesting LPC interview and another one over at LA Record. Longmont Potion Castle 6 came out last month.

Modern Technology Is Rubbish

You know what sucks? When you're all prepared to incorporate a new Siouxsie song into your performance and the laptop craps out after the first verse and chorus, that sucks. Miss Suppositori Spelling, though, was prepared. I like that the performance was done en pointe.

Yes, There Are Things to Do in the Valley

Mark Frauenfelder wrote this cool travel piece on things to do in the vicinity of Tarzana for Everywhere Magazine (found via his blog, BoingBoing). Being a native of nearby Northridge, I was immediately attracted to the piece. I actually remember going to the Farm as a child. There are pony rides (or at least, there were pony rides) at the Farm as well. I have never been to Vanalden Cave, probably because, having grown up in Northridge, we were more inclined to go to ET Park (best view in the 818). Also, I should add that I wasn't much of a stoner either. Props to anyone who writes about the Valley without sounding like a jerky Westsider.

Everywhere appears to be a new mag and, from what I could read online, it looks really cool with more pieces about actual travel than overpriced boutique hotels in boring tourist traps. The cover story for this issue is on Tokyo street culture.

Siouxsie's Boots

Yes! Someone has posted Siouxsie's cover of "These Boots Are Made For Walking" from Friday night's show. The sound actually is decent too. This cover reminds me of Siouxsie and the Banshees' version of "The Passenger."





There is also a clip of "Dear Prudence."


KrysteeClark, the girl who posted these videos, has a lot of LA-centric live concert footage on her channel. It's worth perusing.

Little Miss Fell Asleep on the Couch

I have this habit of falling asleep in front of the TV. And when I fall asleep in front of the TV, it's during the commercial break in the midst of an Adult Swim show that I have been waiting up all night too watch. Take last night for example, when I fell asleep during Blood Plus and managed to miss the ending.

Having fallen asleep during Adult Swim, I, naturally, woke up to the sound of children's television. Today, it was a show called The Mr. Men Show.

Mr. Men? I used to read those books when I was a kid. And wasn't there a show about them that was on cable when I was maybe in kindergarten or first grade? I had to investigate.

In fact, I learned that there have been four series based on the Mr. Men and Little Miss books, the most recent being the one on Cartoon Network. The new version of the show is kind of cool with music that sounds as thought it came from a 1960s cartoon.

I found this clip from Mr. Men and Little Miss that dates back to 1983. The closing theme strikes me as oddly familiar. Did it run on Nickelodeon as well? I can't remember. It's a pretty funny clip, though. Reminds me of Keeping up Appearances.

A Tale That Had to Be Told

The slaying of teenager Lawrence King has been on my mind of late. As such, I wanted to share the following incident.

Brian* was the only openly gay kid at my high school. He wasn't the only gay student, but he was the only one brave enough to come out before graduation. Brian was two years younger than me, a sophomore, but we had a crew on campus that crossed grade barriers, mostly on account of the fact that we were all sort of strange-- goths, punks, nerds, hippies, whatever-- and we hung out on a the grassy area of the mission where our school was moved after the earthquake.

There were two cliques that hung out on the grass. In the other clique were a bunch of guys who all had the same first name. We often just referred to them by pluralizing said first name. For the purposes of this story, we'll call them the Jakes.

The Jakes hated all of us, one even threatened to beat me up for making a crack about his lame-ass tattoo, but they saved most of their rage for Brian. Now, to his credit, Brian had a mouth that pissed off everyone at some point, but the Jakes didn't hate Brian because of his knack for unintentionally insulting people, they hated him because he was gay. I know this because I was there the day that they tried to kick the shit out of him.

I don't remember how it started. After all was said and done, I had to recount the story to the girls' dean over what seemed like the rest of the afternoon.

We were just sitting on the grass-- me, Brian and two of our friends-- when they came towards us. The blond one, the one who would threaten me a few months later, walked towards us with his gang a few steps behind. He called Brian a "faggot." I remember the exact word because I had to repeat it as the dean quizzed and requizzed me as if she thought we made up the story and was trying to cause me to slip.

"I'm telling you, that's exactly what he said," I answered.

And then Brian mouthed off to him.

"He was just standing up for himself."

And the Jakes pounced Brian and he fell back or started to fall back but didn't quite hit the ground.

"It all happened really fast."

And then the two girls jumped to Brian's defense.

"Because everyone was freaking out."

And I ran over there too, and I tried to get everyone to stop, but then the deans hit the scene and we were all dragged over to the office-- girls with one dean, boys with the other.

And the girls' dean kept the questions coming, like she was totally convinced that this ordeal was our fault, like she couldn't stand the thought of having to expel the Jakes, which was the general punishment for a fight.

"Look, I already told you, they called him a faggot, they tried to beat him up."

I can't remember if I dropped the word hate crime or gay bashing, it was whichever was most commonly used on the news in 1994.

"And I think, just on those grounds, you should let my friends and I off the hook."

The dean looked stunned. Just goes to show that I did pay attention in Youth and the Law.

The situation ended up being a wash We didn't get into trouble. I think some sort of punishment befell the Jakes, just enough to keep them away from Brian for a while, but they weren't expelled. We went on hating each other until that June, when the Jakes and I graduated and we never saw each other again.

Just so that you know, this didn't happen in some stereotypical middle-of-nowhere town. It was the San Fernando Valley, a place where the LGBT community lived more openly in the mid-1990s than in other parts of the country.

I've thought about this incident a lot throughout the years and I imagine that it must have shaped a lot of the views I hold. I feel like it might seem as though I'm over-reacting if I say it was traumatizing, but when you see a gang of kids pick on another kid because of something he can't change, well, it makes an impact.

I know a lot of people have and will continue to say that there needs to be a focus on teaching tolerance in school. I humbly submit that this is a naive solution. You can't teach compassion in the classroom. If that were possible, then Brian wouldn't have been targeted on the campus of a Catholic school, where, by 12th grade, the Jakes would have heard the "love thy neighbor" routine enough times for it to sink in to their thick, nearly-shaved heads. No, kids learn by example and senseless murders like that of Lawrence King will continue until us adults start practicing peace.

* names have been changed

I Cry, I Pray, Mon Sioux

I first saw Siouxsie with the Banshees in 1992, sixteen years ago from today almost to the day. It was my second concert, the first I attended without an adult. Years later, when I spent 1998 attending every Creatures show in Los Angeles, I thought that as good as the shows were, they couldn't compare to that moment six years earlier when I went to a concert and felt inspired to do something, to be a part of the music. I hadn't seen either the Creatures nor the once reunited Banshees play since then, figuring it couldn't get any better. Then, almost a decade after that Creatures show at Variety Arts Center when my friend Frankie and I had to divide our DJ sets into 20 minute intervals and run up and down five flights of stairs so that we could catch part of the show, Siouxsie was on her own and in L.A., on stage at the Henry Fonda Music Box and I was there, no longer barely legal and no longer dressed in fishnets, and it was still everything that I could have imagined.

The Fonda was ex-goth central tonight. There was a handful of people of who looked exactly as they did back at the last Creatures show I attended, but those folks were mixed with moths, rockaghoulies, gravers and those teenage goth boys who grew into very hot, very gay men.

I went with my friend who had earned the alias Third Eye by the end of the night and we met up with Russell, who I have known since he was 13 and I was 18 and we were regulars at the goth clubs, and his friends. As you can see, we aren't so scary looking anymore.


Photo by Cody Wayne


We were supposed to dress in theme-- "Red Over White"-- so as to pay tribute to one of Siouxsie's many amazing b-side. However, Russell decided to get a tattoo that day and his red Vivienne Westwood sweater would have been too uncomfortable rubbing against the fresh ink. By the way, this tattoo says "Tootie."

"It's my grandma's name," he explained.

"Oh, I thought it was a Facts of Life reference," I answered.

"See, that's why I got it. It will be the perfect conversation starter for the rest of my life."

Russell had found a Siouxsie setlist early Friday morning and posted it on MySpace, so as to keep us all from being surprised. In fact, Siouxsie didn't stray too far from that list, but the order was changed up a bit and there was one big surprise at the end of the show.

Siouxsie opened with new music and a new look that was sort of like her Superstition-era style, but hotter. She was like Emma Peel with her black/white/gold/pink harlequin patterned catsuit and long, teased hair and she danced in that loose-limbed fashion that goths often try and fail to emulate (it usually helps if you aren't wearing a corset). I must admit feeling a pang of jealousy. It's a look I have always wanted to achieve, but knew that my figure was too lumpy and my hair too limp to make it work. And the high kicks in heels thing would just land me in the hospital.

I tried to get a decent shot, but I ended up fussing too much with the camera settings and came up with this.



Relatively early on in the set, Siouxsie played a trio of oldies, starting off with "Dear Prudence," the Beatles cover that has sort of become hers. She followed this with "Hong Kong Garden," at which point, a crazed graver began dancing into everyone around her. Since when do gravers mosh? Her dreadlocked boyfriend had to restrain her after she knocked over three or four $10 cocktails. Concluding the fan-favorite portion of the show was "Night Shift." That's about as boo-spooky Siouxsie as you can get without delving into Join Hands.

When Siouxsie gravitated back towards the new music, the bulk of the crowd of people around me began gabbing like they were out on the smoking patio. Sacrilege!

Siouxsie closed the main set with "Into a Swan," off her latest album, which was fitting given the circumstances of the album and this tour. Although Siouxsie has always been an icon in her own right, this is the first time in her 30+ year career that she hasn't been part of a band. Anyone who saw the Banshees or the Creatures live could tell you that the concerts were never about Siouxsie. She may have been dancing up at the mic, but the performance was still about the unit rather than a sole performer. Even though Siouxsie tours with a band now, it's still her backing band. She's in the spotlight and she's the one who will either receive praise or criticism. Much like the line in the song, Siouxsie is transformed.

For the first encore, Siouxsie played "Nicotine Stain," a very early Banshees track, and "Cish Cash," her collaboration with Basement Jaxx. Then, for the second encore, she stunned virtually everyone in the audience by covering "These Boots Were Made for Walking."

Siouxsie is still so freakin' cool.

Photos by Liz O. except where noted.

As We Prepare for Her Entrance

Siouxsie (without the Sioux) is playing her first of several L.A. area solo dates tonight. I will be there.

We must prepare.



Siouxsie "Into a Swan"

This is the single from Siouxsie's debut solo album. Yes, she has been around forever, but she has never recorded without being part of a band. The album is highly recommended by yours truly. However, if you have never heard Siouxsie before, try listening to the Banshees and the Creatures first to get a bit of perspective.



Siouxsie and the Banshees "Hong Kong Garden"

Years had passed before I realized that she was singing about Chinese takeout. ("Oh, so when the British say takeaway, they mean takeout.")



Siouxsie and the Banshees "Israel"

This one is a favorite of mine.



Siouxsie and the Banshees "Dazzle"

Another favorite.



The Creatures "Miss the Girl"

Valentine's Day without the Cheese

I was wearing a white empire-waist dress covered in little red hearts, not so much because it's Valentine's Day, but because we're going to a goth club and I figured this was so not-goth, it was totally goth. We went to the goth club because it seemed fun and it was right next to Philippe's and we had to go to Philippe's because it was the least romantic place you could go on Valentine's Day. My dad said that we should get eat the pig's feet, so he could live vicariously through us. I couldn't handle the thought of that. Carlos probably could, but the pig's feet are pretty massive, so he didn't. We took a picture instead.



Outside on Ord, we could see the lights of a building maybe a quarter-mile away, lit up like a heart. I took a picture, as best as I could until I figure out how to deal with night time pictures on my new camera.



And then we went to Severance over at Roberto's.

Siouxsie and the Banshee's have a song called "Red Light." If you were ever a goth, ever went to a club with some sort of dark element, you probably heard it at some point. Every time I go into a goth club well before midnight and I see the red club lights penetrate the dry ice-induced fog, I think of that song.



The DJs didn't play "Red Light." Instead, one dropped "Tattoo," b-side of "Dear Prudence" and best Siouxsie and the Banshees song ever laid to record. Carlos was taken by the dub-like production and killer beat. DJ Baron seemed more than willing to play my request for Sixth Comm's cover of the Death in June song "The Calling," which was a pleasant surprise considering that it's a freakin' obscure request. Where else can you go and say, could you play this record that is barely in existence, it's a cover of the only thing resembling a hit from a band that's never had anything resembling a hit, and actually hear said song? Nowhere, I tell you. Hence I recommend that anyone reading this blog head out to Roberto's on Thursday nights for Severance.

And so we did Valentine's Day without the cheese, well, except for the bleu kind that was on my sandwich.

Kuromi Kawaii

Did you know that frienemies exist in the world of Sanrio? It's true and Kuromi and My Melody are just that.

This gothling character was born on October 31. She likes wearing black and getting all angsty over her rivalry with My Melody. Although Kuromi first appeared in Japan in 2005, she only arrived in US shops last December. And, to think, she already has her own fanlisting and tons of goods in Sanrio's online shop.

Just Because You Like ABBA Doesn't Mean You Can't Rock

"Oh my God," I exclaimed when Carlos first sent me this video. "It's Lita Ford duetting with Matt Pinfield."

Alas, I was mistaken.

Doro Pesch is, to quote her bio, "the epitome of the female warrior." Throughout the 1980s, she led the Dusseldorf-based metal band Warlock, a band that released albums with such seriously metal titles as Burn the Witches, Hellbound and Triumph and Agony. After leaving the band, she released numerous albums as Doro, the latest of which, Warrior Soul, was released in 2006. And if all this isn't rock enough for you, she also covered Billy Idol's hit "White Wedding"

As for the dude in the video, his name is Dirk Bach and he is

[hold on a second, there's an oxymoron coming]

a German comedian.

No shit, that's totally 100% true.

And, not only is he a comedian, he's quite well known in Germany for his work on Sesamstrasse, which, as you might gather, is Sesame Street. According to his Wikipedia page (pretty much the only thing I could find in English), he's also an LGBT activist and a vegetarian.

And here they are, on German TV somewhere at some point in time, covering ABBA (if I had actually gone through with my plan to learn German, I could probably tell you whence this clip stems), because ABBA is more hardcore than your disco-hating, German metal-loving cousin from Lancaster.

Welcome to Marzipan City

Chowder promo

Chowder is the latest children-friendly offering on the Cartoon Network. Since its debut in November, the show has become a hit with more than just young children. Yes, I confess, if I'm awake, I do watch it on Saturday mornings.

Chowder is a chef's apprentice living in Marzipan City, which is essentially a parallel world where everything revolves around food. He's a lot like that kid on Two and a Half Men, often getting into trouble and always eating. Mung Daal and Truffles, the couple for whom he apprentices, seem to always be frustrated with him.

The animation in Chowder is hypnotic. Like Gankutsuou, the animation team uses a technique where the patterns move across the costumes. The show also adds in bits of stop animation and puppetry.

Creator C.H. Greenblatt (who has also worked on SpongeBob Squarepants and The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy) has a really cool blog where he discusses show news and fan art. Also, there is a wealth of show information on Wikipedia.

Chowder runs frequently, so check Cartoon Network for air times.

Costume Changes

You don't have to be a mega-pop, mega-star to employ the art of the quick change in your rock show. Just ask the Fuxedos.

Carlos and I caught the punk cabaret act at Safari Sam's last night and, damn, that Danny Shorago sure knows how to slip in and out of masks and costumes without losing a beat in the songs.

Yesterday was Abraham Lincoln's birthday. In honor of the late president, Shorago emerged on stage in a George Washington mask. Hey, at least he drew a beard on it.

By the time I had fished my camera out of my handbag, the first of many, many masks had been cast aside in favor of a fresh-faced singer sporting Mickey Mouse gloves.



The Disney-esq quality of his ensemble was juxtaposed with his blood-splattered band mates.



After a few more switcheroos, Shorago settled into something a bit more appropriate for lady-baiting hip movements.



And then he changed into something a little more comfortable without leaving the stage.

Fairy Tale Labratory

Clip from Rusalochka (The Little Mermaid), 1976

I found this article today on Yahoo's front page about scientific reasonings behind fairy tale phenomena. It's a very short, but interesting read, the sort of piece that, much like a fairy tale, leaves the reader craving more. So, I started Googling and found the following article as well.

"Fairy Tale Physics: Myths and Legends Explained" from National Geographic News.

But, I still wonder, if scientists can explain the Little Mermaid's absent voice, why not explain the stabbing sensation she felt with every step? Did the old hag pinch the mermaid's nerves too? I ask only because that was my favorite part of the story and it seems like people have forgotten about it since Disney decided to omit the walking-on-knives portion of the tale.

The Ruler of the Cave

Last Christmas, Carlos gave me a boxed set of the anime series Gankutsuou: The Count of Monte Cristo. I began watching the first DVD shortly after opening the gift and then proceeded to park my ass on the couch as I watched all 24 episodes over a period of three, maybe four, days. I could have watched it in one sitting, it was that addictive, but forced myself to prolong the gratitude of seeing the fates of the Morcerfs, Villeforts and, of course, the Count, unfold.

If you have read The Count of Monte Cristo, then you will be familiar with many of the characters and the essential plot. However, Gankutsuou only uses the Alexandre Dumas classic as the glue to hold together the saga. From what I have been told (as I have not read the original work, at least not yet), many of the plot points differ.

Gankutsuou (which translates to "Ruler of the Cave," a title used for the Japanese translation of the Dumas book) is set in 5053, but despite the sci-fi elements the setting would entail, much of the old world conventions remain in place. There is an emphasis on the characters' social standing, with the children of prominent families betrothed to the children of other prominent families (e.g. Vicomte Albert de Morcerf and Eguenie de Danglars). And that age-old question of whether one should marry for status (Valentine de Villefort and Baron Franz d'Epinay) or for love (Valentine and Maximilien Morrel) still exists in an age where people holiday in space.

Visually, Gankutsuou plays up on the retrofuturist elements. The costumes, which were designed by Anna Sui, are a mixture of 19th century fashion and late-1960s/early-1970s European jet set style and are patterned in metallic and iridescent prints that change form with each of the characters' movements. Similar digital animation texturing techniques are used with the scenery, which is a mix of traditional European and beyond-space age settings. Even the series' music helps capture the dichotomy present in Gankutsuou, with Jean-Jacques Burnel (the Stranglers) channeling Jacques Brel in the opening theme and many classical artists throughout the work while cyberockin' it during the closing credits.

Gankutsuou: The Count of Monte Cristo, was released on DVD in the US by Geneon, which also licensed such excellent titles as Appleseed, Paranoia Agent and Samurai Champloo. It was directed by Mahiro Maeda, whose directing credits include The Animatrix and whose animation has also appeared in Kill Bill, Samurai Champloo and Neon Genesis Evangelion.

Gankutsuou Wikipedia entry (with an excellent character list and episode guide)
Gankutsuou DVD page