Links:
The Creatures

That same summer the Sex Pistols proclaimed the last hurrah of punk for a few dollars more, Siouxsie quietly folded the Banshees and went off to concentrate on the Creatures, her occasional side project, with her long-time collaborator, Budgie. After forming her own label and taking the matter of the Creatures into her own hands, she and Budgie have embarked on a trick-or-treat tour, kicking off their US dates with a show at the Fenix in Seattle.

There were some first show jitters. The roadies checked and checked and re-checked everything before finally lighting up cigarettes and checking everything again. Knox Chandler--playing third wheel to the unspoken level of communication that Siouxsie and Budgie have built over the last twenty years--looked slightly uncomfortable on stage, as if he wasn't really sure what he was supposed to be doing. He was certainly under-utilized and I hope that his part blossoms during the subsequent dates. The sound guy was about two weeks from having all the cues so ingrained that he could smoke a cigarette and adjust levels simultaneously. [And we won't really dwell on the fucking idiot who let the interim CD loop over the same chorus for twenty minutes while we waited for the set change to take place.]

That all out of my system, the show itself was fantastic. Budgie--taut and wiry--was a whipping Tasmanian Devil of energy behind the drum kit. The Creatures is definitely a more percussive outlet, most of the songs driven by the energy of his rhythms, the melodies provided by Siouxsie's voice and the incidental rhythms provided by Knox and triggered loops. Even as they tackled old Banshees material--"Red Over White," "Red Light," and "Night Shift,"--the songs have become such part of the Creatures' sound that their imminent 20 year anniversary was a footnote. Likewise, with the Creatures' material they reached all the way back to their first single in 1983 in addition to playing a considerable portion of their recent Anima Animus album. Though "Don't Go To Sleep Without Me" lasted all of about one verse before she realized how terribly it was pulling down the mood from "Exterminating Angels" (which, with Budgie's assault of the free-standing bass drum, was magnificent) and yanked the plug on the song, driving right into an impassioned version of "Red Over White."

And Siouxsie? Ah, still the regal Queen of the Night. So much of my young psyche was formed by the sequined dress on the liner notes of Hyaena. So much of my aged psyche still bolstered as she spit the sequins free of her red lips that night.

-Mark Teppo
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Links:
Echo and the Bunnymen

It was clear that it wasn't going to be the timeless sound of The Bunnymen. It was going to be The Bunnymen with a touch of the '90s pop-punk à la Third Eye Blind. Or maybe like Ian's solo projects with a dash of Electrafixion, which are wonderful but not The Bunnymen. With Mac not playing rhythm guitar and Les on bass plucking out the backbone of The Bunnymen sound, were they destined to sound like a Bunnymen cover band?

Although they weren't living up to my selfish expectations, they did fashion to some of their older songs with the tender frame of the past. It was great to see Ian McCulloch singing "Seven Seas" and swaggering around the stage between songs directing the younger musicians on the finer points of The Bunnymen style and sound. They played a properly overcast version of "Over the Wall" after the third encore and smashed out their brilliant "Do It Clean" with a traditional Bunnymen grace. While everyone expectantly goes to hear the hits from the UK charts of the early '80s like "The Cutter," "The Back of Love" and the Ocean Rain zenith, "The Killing Moon," people at the Fenix really got inspired by the later Bunnymen hits like "Bring on the Dancing Horses," "Lips Like Sugar" and "I Will Be There." When I saw Echo & The Bunnymen in San Francisco in 1997, I was completely blown away by the new wave time warp. It was as though they had not been gone for a decade. It was the most impressive return of a band I had ever seen. The hauntingly shadowed stage of smoke, netting and dramatic lights all brought back the past. Ian, Will, and Les as colossal silhouettes jamming out very early classic Bunnymen songs from their Liverpool beginnings, like "Crocodiles," "Rescue" and "Show of Strength" proved that the rebirth songs like "Evergreen" and "I'll Fly Tonight" promised more to come.

I guess I was hoping for the more epic, dark and mysterious Echo & The Bunnymen at this Seattle show. I could watch and enjoy any show that Ian McCulloch and Will Sergeant put on. I just saw signs that the return of The Bunnymen is short-lived and that Les Pattinson is missed. Despite any disappointment, it was great to see Echo & The Bunnymen one more time. It is true that The Bunnymen will always hold their place in time as the ones who brought Liverpool post-punk to the world and they will continue now by leaving me with the feeling that "Nothing Lasts Forever."

-Danny Murphy
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Filibuster
@
The Fenix
October 6, 1999
Seattle, WA

Links: Filibuster

The band spent the evening taking requests from the crowd (and were very "ahh shucks" that people knew their music), showcasing songs off their recent Skunk Records release, Deadly Hi-Fi, an album that is further example of the band's indomitable musical spirit and which was also produced by Steve Albini (whose name in itself should be further proof that this band deserves your undivided attention). It's too bad the turnout wasn't bigger, but that doesn't matter. The kids were dancing and their ears were wide open, none of which was lost on the band or myself. The band's philosophy sums it up best: "In every scene there are posers and hardcore truests. Filibuster never strayed from their mission to stay true to their rocksteady roots. Since the genre known as 'ska' in America has become bloated, the amount of cheesy, shallow and gutless bands waving the ska banner has been seemingly unending. Filibuster is heartfelt, studied, and authentic, staying true to the founders and bringing something musically and stylistically new that is worthy of credit." Amen! Deadly Hi-Fi has yet to leave my stereo and the infectious groove of their show still has me skippin' down the street whistling to myself.

-Craig Young
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Hafacat
@
Sit 'n' Spin
October 14, 1999
Seattle, WA

Links:
Hafacat

Fronted by Rachael Flotard and Mandy Reed (both sharing vocal and guitar duties), and backed by an ace rhythm section, it should come as no surprise then that on a blustery mid-October night they played an earnest set of catchy punk numbers that were, simply put, lovely. Rachael and Mandy exchanged leads and harmonies as the songs switched--neither one overstepping her place, both in perfect balance with what each number required--while their guitars fired off volley after volley of revved up guitar histrionics à la the '80s So Cal hardcore bands they obviously admire. Smartly executed, fast and punchy, the songs lasted only long enough for the melody to catch your attention before the next one rocketed off the platform.

It's not often that one is treated to a stellar performance that clearly was one of the band's standard workingman's set; further proof that they have the chops. Even better inside the half-full confines of the Sit 'n' Spin, where the crowd was not there out of hype or the hard sell, but obviously sold on the proven skills of the lovely Hafacat. The band--3/4 of which are based across Puget Sound in Bremerton--have been frequently braving the Washington State Ferry System to play gigs here in Seattle. Improving in both confidence and competence with each successive show, it's only a matter of time before you'll be crammed into a full club, straining your neck from the back of the crowd to catch a glimpse of the band, lucky that you even got in to see them in the first place. You'd best take them in now. That way when the dolt next to you spills his beer on your coat and then burns it with his cigarette as he drunkenly tries to apologize, you can turn and say, "Yeah, well...I remember back when..."

-Craig Young
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Links:
Mortiis

He's much smaller in person; but then, most demiurges are. And not nearly as scary as his scowling visage would have you believe. Of course, it is kind of hard to be scary when your attention is spent banging on a set of electronic drums all night. Most of the show is run from tape and Mortiis and his compatriots spend their time whacking a variety of electronic and "acoustic" drums in time with the looped music pouring out of the speakers. Throw in a Renaissance-boned operatically-inclined blonde singer and you've got the basic ingredients for 40 minutes of the same damn song. I was expecting him to start screaming at the audience: "Row! Damn you! Row!" It was Charon's last boat across Styx and the accompaniment to our journey was the lost half-hour of the funeral march from Wagner's Gotterdammerung. Sorry, the most repetitive lost half-hour.

I'm neglecting to mention the ritual slaughter of the virgin. Silly me. How could it have slipped my mind? After tying her to a wooden cross, trying to terrify her by dumping a bucket of blood on himself (which is always the key sign to me that a party has gone bad when the host starts ablutions with a tub of sticky stuff), ignoring her for fifteen minutes while he bangs on the drums, and ritually sticking her with a [fake] knife, Mortiis takes her down from the cross and carts her offstage. Waiting at the edge of the platform is a stagehand with a flashlight. I could almost see him asking, "Need a hand with that, Mr. Mortiis?" And I can envision Mortiis' reply. "Get out of my way, kid. I do three shows a week. I can haul the virgin off stage by myself."

The show is entertaining in the most unintentional way. It's all pomp and posturing and what gloom and terror brought forth by the music is lost without a forceful stage presence to further darken the room. Those long winters in Scandinavia have left a perpetual shadow on Mortiis' scowling face, but have driven out all the other spooks which, when bound together, would have made for a truly inspiring and terrifying show.

-Mark Teppo
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Nebula/Atomic Bitchwax/Core
@
Crocodile Café
October 22, 1999
Seattle, WA

Links:
Nebula

-Steve Weatherholt
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Timothy Young & Very Special Forces
@
Sit 'n' Spin
October 16, 1999
Seattle, WA

Very Special Forces are one such band. And in the tradition of the finest Zappa, on a recent Saturday they played a live set that challenged club-goers to look beyond the adolescent humor of their stage presence and listen to the complexity of the music being played. I'll readily admit that with song titles such as "Call of Cthulhu" and "Serial Monogamist" (with its lyrics, "I can't feel you through the rubber"), it can be difficult for anyone without the benefit of having played Dungeons and Dragons in their youth to appreciate the humor for what it's worth. But there were indeed some musical highlights to be enjoyed: "The Hand" for example, with its syncopated hand claps was one such musical gem. In fact, all the songs presented that night by Tim Young (who, with his haircut and checkered pants, was looking a lot like Robyn Hitchcock) and cohorts were equally complex, catchy and campy. These musicians know their craft well and enjoy pulling a good punch line. And if you didn't get their jokes that night then you were obviously too uptight and too absorbed with how a "serious" band should make a "serious" presentation. Whatever.

Very Special Forces have been recording new songs at Periscope Recordings (drummer Evan Schiller's recording studio). Be on the lookout for its release, and don't pass up the chance to check these guys out. If you never understood Zappa's appeal or figured out his ingenuity, you'll never appreciate the musical intelligence of Very Special Forces.

-Craig Young
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Links:
Tom Waits

Tom takes a moment to bend over the keys of the upright piano and wriggle out a chord or two. "And that crooked tree," he finishes, "is still there, growing stronger and stranger every day."

Tom Waits is the last crooked troubadour, the last dark carnival barker who sweeps into town with the change of the weather. With his clattering, wheezing assemblage of instruments, a megaphone, his pork-pie hat, and a cloud of dust which persists throughout the night, he delivers a mesmerizing evening of the last sad songs about the last sad souls still on the streets after the rest of us have gone away.

For "Eyeball Kid," he dons a mirrored cap, spinning slowly around his raised platform as each of the members of the band are given time in the spotlight. It's disco night under the big top and the band shivers and quakes and heaves behind their gravel-throated leader. The set appears like the truck just backed up to the stage and opened up its doors, spilling out the antiquated and broken assortment of junk which has been hauled back and forth across the country. But as the musicians spend more time behind and with their instruments, the dust is knocked off and the cobwebs and spiders are blown out of the dark crannies. As Tom whirls slowly about the stage with his mirrored hat, there is a transformation that comes over your vision. The stage stops appearing like the back-end of the junk heap and becomes more inviting. As the keyboards and organs wheeze under Danny McGough's ministrations and the dust settles from the large metal ring above percussionist Andrew Borger's head, you stop seeing everything as old and tired, but rather as cared for and worn smooth from years of good use.

And, as Tom settles down behind the small upright and curls his body towards the front row of the audience, you feel the same way about his songs. We lean forward; we want to cluster around him on the stage, perch in the dust that has come from so many roads, lean against the cracked case of the organ which has been left in the rain on more than one occasion, and bang on the rusted edges of the metal ring. He is more than magnetic in his frenzied, possessed stage presence. He expects you to give yourself up completely to his songs. He wants your awe, your empathy, your wonderment, your involvement. And you give it. Without a moment's hesitation.

"Come along with the Black Rider..."

-Mark Teppo
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Links:
Tori Amos

I'll go. Only because someone on staff will have to.

In the interim, she'll continue to fill larger and larger venues. Tori is a kook, and I mean that as high creative praise. You read any interview with her and it is clear that Tori's world is at a distinctly divergent path from ours. But when she performs, that kook factor is subsumed under a delightfully sexy showmanship. Writing songs is simply a necessary part to being on stage and Tori dutifully lets loose these imps and fairies and what-not that she calls her "songs" so that she can play with them in front of an adoring audience.

The addition of a full band to accompany her has only given the music more depth, more fire and boisterousness to flirt and banter with her voice and piano. And this collaborative effort has made her a stronger performer as well. During her piano and voice interlude mid-show, she gave us another rendition of that old chestnut "Smells Like Teen Spirit." And she brought the house down. Not bad for playing to the home town audience which probably has heard another version or two of that song.

They ate out of her hand after that. Well, most of them would have at the beginning as well. But every song that night reminded them exactly why they made their pilgrimage this evening.

-Mark Teppo
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