Colonel Les Claypool and the Fearless Flying Frog Brigade
@
The Showbox
August 24, 2000
Seattle, WA

Links:
Les Claypool

Augmented by local skronkmeister Skerik on saxophone, Claypool et al got the all-ages audience pogoing hard during the first set, delighting the packed pit with snarling renditions of "Harold of the Rocks," "Hendershot," and "Double Vision" as well as a seriously extended version of The Beatles' "Tomorrow Never Knows." But it was their second set that really knocked the audience into a Way-Back trip. Claypool returned to the stage in a rubber pig mask and the band kicked into Animals. My Mexican wrestling buddy Jason smiled to me after the show and said, "Now, at least, I don't have to feel bad about missing Roger Waters at the Gorge." Anyone there would have been happy to follow that remark with "Roger who?" as the Frog Brigade's rendition of the entirety of Pink Floyd's Animals album certainly held its own. Colonel Claypool smiled out at the audience at the encore and asked if we had all heard enough Pink Floyd. We hadn't and the Colonel and his Fearless Frogs were pleased to give us more.

-Mark Teppo
[ top of page ]

Eels
@
Bowery Ballroom
August 11, 2000
New York, NY

Links:
Eels

Announcing every other song as their "hit single!" the band romped through numbers both old and new, with E switching from upright piano to guitar and back again. Cuts like "It's a Motherf#&!@r," "I Like Birds" and "Grace Kelly Blues" off Daisies of the Galaxy were fleshed out beautifully by the band (Butch's chirping was par excellence). Old familiars like "Novocain for the Soul" were dusted off, but the best moments came when E repeatedly thanked the crowd for coming to the Bowery instead of going to see Mötley Crüe, who were playing elsewhere in the area that night. "We're aware that some of you had a difficult decision tonight," he confessed. At one point drummer Butch gave a beatnik reading (accompanied by drums) of a song off the new Crüe album that was so dead-on and so hilarious it completely made me rethink my aversion to Mötley Crüe and has since cast their music in a whole new light.

Entertainment at its best, the Eels satisfied every hunger. Even E's handling of an inebriated couple who would not stop whooping at the top of their lungs was sublime in its subtle marksmanship. Closing out the night with several encores, E was once again led offstage. The lights came up, the music clicked on over the PA, the techs started tearing down the stage, and everyone started shuffling out. Then, whether planned or on a mere whim, about five minutes later E came running back onstage, dragging the band behind him. Picking up his electric guitar as the techs scrambled to re-mic Butch's drum kit, he launched into the unlisted secret track at the end of Daisies of the Galaxy, "Mr. E's Beautiful Blues," and stomped his way through the number wearing a Cheshire grin, all to the surprise of the few fans who had stuck around. "Goddam right, it's a beautiful day." Goddam right! Beautiful indeed! Ending the song in a fit of distortion, E grabbed the mic one last time, shouting: "I'm the real Slim Shady!" and left the stage for good.

Consummate musicians intent on creating an intimate performance, the Eels show at the Bowery has safely landed itself on my all-time list of best shows. Happy, melancholy, whimsical, grandiose...always sincere. The night was summed up in a small note that was passed up to E from a young couple on the front rows. It simply read: "Thanks for the music." Goddam right!

-Craig Young
[ top of page ]

E-mail:
Fakepost@hotmail.com

Some bands get watched, some bands get listened to, and some bands, like Fake, serve the music fan with an eye- and ear full. During the several performances I've seen, everyone in the house moves to the front within 30 seconds of the first song because they can't believe that the four rock star babes that were just drinking in the next booth are now shoving pop-laden punk/metal hooks down everyone's throat with reckless ferocity. Fake are one of those rare bands that move and groove in one effortless motion.

These four gals rock just as hard as any group of guys I have ever seen and, to boot, they're all adorable, sexy and young. Mari Langmyr (bass and lead vocal), Guri Langmyr (guitar and vocal), Hedda Ruud (guitar and vocal), and Ingvild Krabbesund (drums and vocal) came to the States because Guri needed to finish her Masters in Anthropology and the band followed. Since February they have been gracing the stage of any club that would take them, showing up any other unsuspecting band that played the bill. And rumor has it that they are now hanging out with the likes of Krist Novoselic, Kim Thayil and Boris Iochev.

The thing that makes Fake so amazing is the perfect union of simple, honest music and its sexy Scandinavian presentation. No posing, no art rock overintellectualizing, no "feel sorry for me" posturing, and no electronics. You get the feeling that these gals steer well away from those things based on instinct alone. It just wouldn't fit into their total "rawk out" school of getting the job done. Imagine a female Ramones/Stooges with some Iron Maiden/Judas Priest. The songs pine for the days of simple, short, pop-driven melodies with an AC/DC touch of aggression. The way on "No Sleep" that both Mari and Guri croon "I chop my breakfast on the mirror....yeah!" will have all the boys tightly crossing their legs while blushing with secret desire. Your eyes glued to the straps on Guri's silver sparkle tank as they creep south of her slender elbows as that E chord tickles your lips. Or the tall jet black Hedda staring intensely through you, making sure her Les Paul creeps up your spine. Or Mari's nonstop bass as she mesmerizes you with her belly button.

Starting to get the idea?

When I heard the disappointing lineup for this year's Ozzfest, I immediately thought that Fake is a band that could liven things up there a bit. Sure the Ozzfest has Kittie, but there is something so much more endearing about Fake. They way they look, the way they move, and they way they all work together and sound makes them a real rock unit. You just don't see it that often. Ozzy and Sharon Osbourne, you should be reading this, you're going to need bands like this.

I believe they are leaving the country mid-August to return to Norway. Visas are expired. Perhaps if we are lucky they'll come back in the winter when things aren't so beautiful around here in Seattle. We need some warming up around here more than the Ozzfest does, come winter. Please girls...come back!

-Jeff Ashleyi>
[ top of page ]

Links:
Jack Brothers

-Edna Gonzalez
[ top of page ]

Martin Muschett Benefit
@
Moose Lodge #1373
August 5, 2000
Danbury, CT

Martin Muschett was well-loved and well-respected by his friends. A singer in local bands, he was killed earlier this summer at the Baltimore stop of the Summer Sanitarium show, which featured Metallica, Korn, Powerman 5000 and Kid Rock. Muschett fell 80 feet to his death when he lost his balance and slipped over the four-foot high guard rail on the fifth story of the PSINet Stadium's concourse level. Just how loved and respected he had been was on display this Saturday at Danbury's local chapter of the Moose Lodge when his friends and family gathered for a benefit show. Amongst performances by local youth bands Omine, Symphony of Illusion, Rize Above, Holeshot, Show Case and Burnt Karma, among others, the lodge sold food and also raffled off prizes, with all proceeds going to the Martin Muschett Music and Arts Fund, which is being administered by The Hord Foundation of Danbury (whose focus is providing scholarships for the education of deserving and disadvantaged youth).

The turnout was testament to Muschett's memory, and it was amazing to see a public display of the kind of positive impact kids can have when they're allowed the space to shine. Shuffling on and off a stage built by Muschett's friends (and whose construction and reliability numerous clubs could take numerous lessons from) the bands came and went. Garage rock, speed metal, funk, some just learning how to play... Hell, it didn't matter. While the musicianship on "Wish You Were Here" was a bit lacking when it was played, the sentiment surely was not. And every person on-site paused in silence to reflect on what exactly they'd lost on July 4th and, perhaps, what they had gained today.

When it was all said and done, over $2,000 was raised for the fund; an amazing feat considering that it was just "a bunch of kids from a small town." The kids are alright, indeed...and we could certainly learn a lot from their example.

-Craig Young
[ top of page ]

Nicole Blackman
Ladyfest
@
Capitol Theater
August 4, 2000
Olympia, WA

Links:
Nicole Blackman
Ladyfest

You may know her voice from the sublime Golden Palominos record, Dead Inside. (If you don't, you owe it to yourself to find a copy.) You may know her from her wildly inventive and caustic opening speech from the 1995 KMFDM tour (which became "Dogma" on their '96 release, Xtort). Or you may know her from her recent book, Blood Sugar, from Incommunicado Press. And if you don't know her work, then you are missing out on some of the most spellbinding poetry that illuminates and gives face to the darkest fears in your heart.

The line between spoken word and performance art is rather blurred these days as is that same line between art and music. Nicole isn't so much a vocal poet as a conduit for the voices of her poems, shifting fluidly from character to character as she speaks to the audience. The rowdy audience quickly fell under her spell, the commentary and hooting falling away as she drew us in to "Honey Half" and "Missing Natalie." By the time she performed a new poem, "Brave Kathleen," we were nothing but a snowbank waiting for Kathleen's fierce fire to light upon us.

She made us want. She made us smile. She made us understand the little fears we've always harbored. She make us cry. And then, drenching herself in blood and whirling a single light about her head, she made us hold the terror and alienation of "Victim" in our mouths as she swept us away.

-Mark Teppo
[ top of page ]

Ozzfest 2000
@
The Gorge
August 24th, 2000
George, WA

Links:
Ozzfest

On the way through the gates whoops and cheers were going up for this year's big draw, Pantera. I always knew that most Americans preferred their music dumbed-down and packaged for easy consumption, but it still made me scratch my head and go, "Why? Pantera?! C'mon..." First stop was the second stage and eP's favorite techno noise terrorists, Pitchshifter. (You have your prescribed Pitchshifter music on hand, don't you?) Their allotted 25-minute set was one of the best yet I've seen, and in that short span singer JS Clayden still found time to do his obligatory Superman leap off the stage, over surly bouncers and a menacing guardrail to wash himself onto the heads and hands of a packed audience. Nor did it stop drummer Jason Bowld from pulling his own Keith "The Loon" Moon drumshop after the last number.

This was the second time I had to scratch my head. While Pitchshifter certainly have "heavy" in the bag, they stand out from the rest of the nu-metal bands on the Ozzfest with their techno and punk leanings, as well as their ability to write decidedly fresh and interesting music. Fortunately the plot was not lost on those in the audience, who left the band's set with a glow on their face like they'd just moved from a black and white musical reality to the full glory of Technicolor.

After the 'Shifter, nothing else seemed to compare really, so I focused my attention on the next best thing Ozzfest had to offer: heavy metal girls. I have decided that the next woman I date will most definitely be of the heavy metal variety. No complications, no baggage, just hair and tight, black clothing. Mmm... What you see is what you get; and you definitely have to give props to someone who likes to get it on to sounds of "Crazy Train." Case closed.

Between seeking out my dream heavy metal girl and practicing my golf swing with Pitchshifter (who now, I'm afraid, have caught the golf bug and will soon be packing in their instruments and stage techs for golf bags and caddies), there was time to catch the "we know we only have so-so songs, but you're really here because you're dirty old pedophiles and we'll milk that and you for all it's worth" sounds of Kittie, whose parents make Jon-Benet Ramsey's folks like the Cleavers; and Soulfly, whose onstage tribe was fattened by the presence of Tommy Lee, and whose aggro-industrial sounds Ministry could learn a thing or two from if Al and Co. weren't so busy parodying themselves.

The main stage didn't fare much better with the aforementioned Tommy Lee and his band, Methods of Mayhem, who sadly sounded nothing more and nothing less than average. Then there was Godsmack (the Y2K version of Alice in Chains), and the big crowd pleaser, Pantera. Listening to the crowd eat up frontman Phil Anselmo's endless diatribe on how this audience was the best audience ever was so boring that I started punching myself in the face for a lack of anything better to do.

And then, finally, the Ozzman cometh. Or raineth, to be more precise. It would appear Ozzy has a thing for water canons and dousing his audience with them (we won't get into the rumors why here, although they are fucking hilarious, probably true and will get me killed if I reveal them), and so throughout his set he continually hosed down the audience--which would have been much better received had it been done six hours earlier in the heat of the afternoon. But at 10pm, with the sun set and the crisp night of central Washington descending by degrees, getting soaked by an aging heavy metal madman was not a very fun thing. Actually, watching the metalheads get doused actually was a bit of fun, as we were safely ensconced on the upper lawn and in no fear of getting wet ourselves.

On par with most of the rest that day, Ozzy's presence and performance were lacking. Watching him hop-slash-hobble around the stage singing his and Black Sabbath's greatest hits was depressing, to say the least. It was as if all that water had doused the spark. The one thing that did make it worthwhile were the video clips of Ozzy parodying recent films and advertisements, everything from The Sixth Sense, to The Gladiator, to the recent "Whassup" Budweiser commercials. Played as an introduction to his Holiness, they were simply priceless and I can easily see Ozzy giving up his heavy metal throne to go out and become a stand-up comedian.

A career as a comedian, however, won't be for a few more years as the Ozzman has a contract to do at least three more Ozzfests. Rumor has it Black Sabbath will reunite for the last go-around. This time, let's leave the water cannons at home, okay?

-Craig Young
[ top of page ]