Happy Holidays

I'd hoped to have an Xmas tale of wine and food, friends and fun to share with everyone this evening.  Instead, I've been focusing on the friends, family and fun parts, less on the chronicaling of said activities.  Wine and food are playing a role as always, music too, but sometimes more substantive writing and blogging have to take a back seat. 

I'm sure I'll be back in the saddle within the next few days so, until then, here's a little tuneage for your seasonal listening pleasure.  Happily, this time around it's in the spirit of the holidays rather than in remembrance of friends passed.  Thanks as always for visiting, reading, partaking, even listening.  Here's wishing a happy and peaceful holiday season to you all.  Cheers!

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Joe Strummer, Eight Years On

Earlier this evening, a friend reminded me that today marks eight years since the untimely and unexpected passing of Joe Strummer on December 22, 2002. So, tonight I drank a little Régnié with my dinner, poured a glass for Joe, watched the below clip a time or five, and remembered the man. Please feel free to do the same.

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Don Van Vliet is Dead, Long Live Captain Beefheart

Don Van Vliet, better known—to those that knew of him at all—as Captain Beefheart, died yesterday of complications related to multiple sclerosis.  The Captain was 69.  There's no way I could improve upon the obituary that's already been written by Ben Ratliff for The New York Times, so read that.  And listen to this: the title track from the 1967 album Safe As Milk, as performed for French television in 1980.



Though I eventually came to be a big fan of Van Vliet's own music, I first came to know him through his work with Frank Zappa, who produced what was arguably Captain Beefheart's most influential album, Trout Mask Replica. Though it might be fair to think of Zappa and Van Vliet as peers or joint mentors, I tend to think of them more as co-conspirators.  So here's a peek into that side of things, too, via "Willie the Pimp" from Zappa's 1969 release, Hot Rats.



Rest in peace, Don (and Frank).

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Bad Brains "Pay to Cum"

In the wake of the breaking news that an original acetate of the Bad Brains single "Pay to Cum" just sold for $6,000 (almost makes me consider selling my (non-acetate) copy...), here's a little something for your viewing, listening and thrashing pleasure.  Even on the crummiest of days, spinning this track, with all its unadulterated energy, has always managed to help bring things around.



Addendum: Don't know why I didn't think to add this last night....  Given the all but undecipherable nature of much of HR's vocal attack, I'm taking the liberty of reprinting the lyrics for "Pay to Cum," per the insert included with its 1979 7" release.

I make decisions, with percisions [sic]
lost inside this manned collision
Just to see that what to be is perfectly
my fantasy.  I came to know with no dismay
that in this world we all must pay.
pay the right
" to pay
" "
" " cum fight
and all in time, with just our minds
we soon will find, what's left behind.
Not long ago when things were slow
we all got by with what they know
the end is near, hearts filled with fear,
don't want to listen to what they hear
and so its [sic] now we choose to fight to
stick up for our bloody right
the right to sing, the right to dance,
the right is ours, we'll take the chance
A piece together
" piece apart
" piece of wisdom
from our hearts.

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Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson, RIP

As long as we're all giving thanks tonight, it's important to remember to give thought.

Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson died yesterday. I never met Peter, never even "saw" him. But I sure did listen to his work. Played the hell out of it on the radio in the mid-80s, too. From his formative roles in Throbbing Gristle, to Psychic TV, to Coil, Christopherson was instrumental in producing some of the most influential pieces of industrial, electronic and trance music of the late 1970s through the mid '80s. Looking back, it might be all too facile to write off the canon of those bands as oh so much pretentious oozing. To each one's own, though, as I'd counter that all three of those bands were at the forefront of their respective moments, releasing music that got under one's fingernails and invaded the listener's thoughts then, and that continues to stand as meaningful, individualistic and anachronistic thirty years later.

Coil's 1984 12-inch single "Panic," along with its B-side cover of "Tainted Love," was among the first ever (if not the first ever) records released specifically to benefit HIV/AIDS programs. All profits from the sale of the single were donated to the Terrence Higgins Trust. The video for "Tainted Love," directed by Peter Christopherson, now resides in the permanent collection of the Museum of Modern Art in New York.


Watch it. Like it or not, give a thought tonight to the memory of the man who made it. And going forward from Thanksgiving toward the year-end holidays, give thought to making a difference, or simply making a contribution, to a local charity, be it for HIV/AIDS or whatever cause is most meaningful to you.

Again, Happy Thanksgiving to all.

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Ari Up, RIP

If you've never heard of Arianna Forster, you'll be forgiven. Hell, if you've never heard of Ari Up I'll even let you slide. Ari was the front woman of the early British punk band The Slits. To call The Slits seminal would be missing the mark; the band was hugely individualistic, a big part of the early punk scene, but they were largely overlooked.

The Slits formed in 1976; toured with The Clash, The Jam and the Buzzcocks in 1977; but didn't release their first album until 1979. By that time, their sound had morphed from its early chaotic, spasmodic punk drive into something more unusual, a sort of poly-rhythmic mesh of punk, reggae and funk. Though they'll always be connected with the core Brit-punk explosion of 1977, I'll always most closely associate their music with the next step, what I'll call the agit-pop phase from '79 to '81 (when they broke up). And I'll always think of their music in the same way I think of Gang of Four and, particularly, The Pop Group, with whom The Slits shared a split-single (Rough Trade 039A) in 1980.

Ari Up was only 14 when she joined The Slits in 1976. She died on Wednesday, October 20, 2010, the result of a serious but unspecified illness. A more detailed obituary was published in The Guardian earlier this week.

For those that would like to get a sense of her music (or to enjoy the memories), I've included three videos below. The first is from the early years, an excerpt from Don Lett's 1977 film "The Punk Rock Movie;" you'll need to wade through about a minute worth of punk-film action before making it to their performance. Next up is The Slits only "hit," "Typical Girls" (1979), not their greatest song but a classic, old school video. And last is an audio-only clip of "In The Beginning There Was Rhythm," their track on that 1980 split-single with The Pop Group; it for me is the most indicative of The Slits sound. Enjoy. And RIP, Ari.

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Monday Night Merzbow

With all the semantic querulousness going on around town these days, I thought I'd post something of a different nature for everyone to ponder.

When's the last time you went to see a concert where the promoter handed out ear plugs at the door?

Love it. Hate it. Play it loud.

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Cracked Actor

It's been three-and-a-half years and I can't believe it myself: nary a peep here from David Bowie, one of my all time favorite rock and roll chameleons. From the beginning all the way through to the early 80s hits from "Modern Dance," I've always loved his stuff. Tonight, in fits and starts, I've been watching the film of Bowie's 1973 "retirement" gig, Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, shot at the Hammersmith Odeon. Not the greatest film quality but a great period in Bowie's career and a fantastic show from the looks of it. I'd totally forgotten that Bowie dabbled with the harmonica, but I've never forgotten what a seminal role his guitarist/producer, Mick Ronson, played in the Spiders. Here's "Cracked Actor" for your listening and viewing pleasure. There will be more here from Bowie at some point; of that I'm sure.

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Sunday Suds: Dogfish Head "Namaste"

There's a whole lotta mashing up going on around the craft beer globe these days. Brewers are teaming up in twos, threes and tens to ply their trade, flex their creative muscle, share techniques and no doubt learn a few things along the way. Sometimes its happening right around the corner, sometimes its bringing together brewers from oceans away.

One of the most active progenitors of this collaborative craze has to be Sam Calagione, founder, owner and head brew cheese at Delaware's Dogfish Head.

Now in its second year as a summer seasonal, Dogfish Head's "Namaste" was originally conceived in 2009 via a four-way, intercontinental team-up between Sam and his wife Mariah, Dogfish Head lead brewer Bryan Selders, and Leonardo DiVincenzo, owner of the central Italian craft brewery Birra del Borgo. There was an aspect of charitable giving in the mix, too. Part of the proceeds for the first-year sales of "Namaste" were donated to Armand Debelder of Drie Fonteinen, who lost about a third of a year's production of his lambics and gueuzes due to a thermostat malfunction in the storage area at 3 Fonteinen. In that first year, "Namaste" was available only on draft and only at the Dogfish Head brewpub in Rehoboth Beach, DE. This year, Sam, Mariah and Bryan brewed a bit more, enough to to pour on draft as well as to allow for a limited bottling in crown-sealed 750s.

"Namaste" is brewed in the tradition of Belgian white ales. Given the wheat, coriander and citrus elements in the mix, Hoegaarden would seem the most obvious point of comparison; "Namaste," however, is a touch rounder and broader in texture and also a tad darker in both its color and flavor profiles. Whether that's the result of the use of entire slices (dried) of orange rather than just the zest or whether it's just the Dogfish Head signature showing through I can't say. What I can say is that the brew is refreshing and very easy going down, a bit short on the finish but very tasty up front. At only 5% ABV, it's also quite light by the standards at Dogfish Head, a brewery best known for its over-the-top, hop monster and ancient recipe inspired creations. You can read more about it at the Dogfish website as well as on Sam's blog.

If the info on the DFH site is correct, "Namaste" may not be available outside of the state of Delaware. I enjoyed this bottle, shared over dinner with friends, at Wilmington's Domaine Hudson. Whether there's any still available there I don't know but, if not, there's plenty of other great stuff to choose from on the restaurant and wine bar's recently expanded and quite adventurous list of 120+ bottled beers.

Oh yeah, as for the title of today's post, I know it's not Sunday but, in homage to the crazy cats at Dogfish Head, so what? I drank this on Saturday and wrote about it on Monday, so Sunday it is. After all, it's my blog and I'll do what I want.

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Surfing the Geezer Post-Punk Bargain Bin

Ever spot one of those wines, whether in a random retail shopping stop or on the list at a restaurant of dubious distinction, that seems like it might be just a little too good to be true? Old enough that you wonder whether it will still be good, but not so old that you're not awfully tempted? Not too pricey but not so cheap as to raise alarms? And you go for it: part against your better judgment, and part because you're hoping against hope for the off chance of something special?

Happened to me a short while back with a little British number known as Echo & the Bunnymen. A heads-up flickered across my screen, the price wasn't prohibitive, the mood was right. I went for it.

Turned out to be an alright move. Things were a little smoke-addled up front, not quite as primal as in its earlier years, but the voice was still unmistakable. The mid-stretch was strong, bolstered by an influx of new blood via an updated, hard-driving rhythm section. It wasn't until the last sips that things kind of fell apart, with a big finale followed by an excruciatingly long pause, eventually trailing off into an unfocused, rambling, somewhat apologetic finish.

I took about twenty pictures of Ian McCullough, who seemed to spend most of the night thinking he was fronting The Jesus and Mary Chain rather than the Bunnymen — motionless, sunglasses after dark, hands and mic obscuring any clear glimpse of his visage, occasionally pausing to insult someone in the crowd (not that they didn't deserve it)....

The two guitar wielding Bunnymen were at opposite corners of the stage from one another, out of width-of-field range vis-a-vis the above shot of the rest of the band. Gordy Goudie, stage right from the crowd's perspective, provided rhythmic attack and a little glam/rocker ethos. Gordy also sat in with the evening's opening act, Kelley Stoltz (who put out a very good set of honest, slightly edgy geek-pop).

At far left, Will Sergeant, the only other original member of the band aside from McCullough, delivered the delay-driven atmospherics and melodies essential to the Bunnymen sound.

One of the most clearly updated songs of the night was "Bring on the Dancing Horses," less New Order-ish in its techno/dance-beat backing than the original, with some new phrasing and vocal intonations from Ian M. The video below is from three years ago or thereabouts but has a very similar feel to that experienced at last Sunday night's show at the Keswick, right down to the fan and fog machine.

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Art Ensemble 40, Ars Nova 10

Saturday night's performance by the Art Ensemble of Chicago, the fourth and final show in the Ars Nova Workshop's Anti-Jazz Series, proved to be fittingly climactic. Once through the first couple of minutes of tuning in and finding their rhythm, the band was on — and in a seriously powerful groove — for the duration of their gig, putting on what was for me by far the most completely enjoyable show of the series. Even though my photo (above) sucks from a technical perspective, I kind of like the way it captures the energy of the show — very circular and vibrational, with a hum that you could feel all the way through your body if you just closed your eyes and let it take you.

The show was a fitting finale to the series from a benchmark perspective, as well. As the Art Ensemble, founded in 1969, has just entered its fifth decade of active musical artistry, Philadelphia's Ars Nova Workshop is poised to celebrate its own ten-year anniversary. Ars Nova's official 10th anniversary show is coming up in just a little over a week. Whether or not you make it to that performance is a moot point. Ars Nova promotes an amazing array of shows, with a nearly non-stop schedule. I won't go so far as to say there's something there for everyone; however, if you live in the Philadelphia area (or plan to visit) and are into creative music and cutting-edge jazz, you need to keep a regular watch on the Ars Nova event schedule.

As for last Saturday's show, I wasn't quite sure what to expect but was obviously pleased. It had been the better part of 30 years since I'd last seen the Art Ensemble — an early '80s show at the Wax Museum in Washington, DC, just a year or two at most after the video you can watch and hear below. Though founding members Lester Bowie and Malachi Favors are no longer with us, Roscoe Mitchell, Famoudou Don Moyé and the newer additions to the group are still bringing it. If presented with the chance, catch them while you still can.

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Hit the Mall

Even if "Hit the North" is about the poppiest song ever performed and recorded by The Fall, it was still a freakish (if welcome) experience to hear it playing in a retail clothing store while out for a Sunday afternoon of outlet shopping. As if a Sunday afternoon of outlet shopping wasn't freakish enough on its own....

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Bornard, Reynard and Discipline

When last I was in the borough of Manhattan, after ramen, after doughnuts, after wines from the Cher, after meeting Kermit, finally there was time to get down to more serious business (aka, more wine and food) at The Ten Bells.

Over the course of the night, there was much talk of the Arbois wines of Annie and Philippe Bornard. I'd first tried one of the Bornards' wines in the same spot, not more than a few months earlier, and I enjoyed it, very much as a part of the moment rather than via any kind of deep, analytical dissection (though that wine seems to perform relatively well in a more clinical scenario, too). In any case, the two guys in the photo at top-right were up in arms as to the relative merits of the Bornard wines. Hell, it was all I could do to tear them apart. Seriously though, after only a couple of encounters, I'm hardly set yet to pronounce upon Bornard — not that I'm taken to that kind of thing in the first place. But so far, so good. The wines may not have the elegance of Puffeney's or the profundity of those from Houillon/Overnoy, but those I've tried thus far are at least savory and enjoyable.

Arbois Pupillin Trousseau "Le Ginglet," Annie et Philippe Bornard 2006
$27. 13% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Savio Soares Selections, Manhasset, New York.

If my linguistics research is correct, "le ginglet" is the nominative singular form of an archaic French word, "ginglar," used to describe a wine that's at least a little sour. It's an apt if somewhat overstated term in this case, as the wine does offer up a core of tart cherry fruit. It pours the pale color of dried rose petals in the glass, a tone echoed by the tea-like feel of the wine on the palate — very light yet firmly tannic, even slightly astringent. On the nose, wild cherries again dominate, backed up by the scent of persimmons and a sense of twigginess. Even though there's not much here in the way of screaming fruit, the wine has a freshness and appeal that balances its slight austerity. In spite of its initially firm spine, this is really defined primarily by its delicacy. It's more serious-seeming than the Ploussard "Point Barre" I drank during my last bout at The Ten Bells, yet it's still well suited to casual enjoyment.

With time in the glass, out came more aromas and nuance: sweet earth, orange oil, even a light dusting of bitter cocoa powder. "Le Ginglet" even held up quite well into its third day, softening up yet simultaneously taking on a darker, spicier and warmer feel, the aromas of orange oil becoming even more apparent than on D1.

* * *

So, on top of all that night's Bornard wine diatribe and duologue (which even trickled over into a very much less animated brunch session at Blaue Gans the following day), there's the question of the Bornards' label design. At first glance or two, I didn't like it; the simple, naive design made me think of a youngster's first awkward attempts at graphic design.

The fact that the fox on the label is almost certainly meant to be Reynard, the omnipresent trickster figure, managed to escape me until much later. Excusable, you say? Not so much in my mind, especially given the amount of time I spent in Chaucer seminars through my undergrad and grad school years. I expect that Philippe Bornard (or perhaps it was Annie?) selected that design with an eye to satire, a constant in the tales in which Reynard the Fox figures as an anthropomorphic player. Wisdom, resourcefulness and playfulness all probably figure in to the design decision, too. Given that Reynard's satiric edge was almost always pointed at the aristocracy and/or the clergy, the foxy critter has even been considered by some interpreters to be a hero of the working class. A final gesture to the winegrowers' intention that their produce be enjoyed by all rather than worshiped by the few, perhaps. And, of course, it can't hurt that Reynard rhymes with Bornard....

Whatever the case, my take on the label has now changed. The more I look at it, the more I like it — both for all that literary innuendo and for its almost garish simplicity.

* * *

As Reynard snuck up on me, so the following song crept into the back of my mind as I wrote the words above. Warning: if you're not a fan of over-the-top drum solos, you may want to fast-forward to about the 3:20 point.


On the other hand, if that was only enough to whet your whistle, check out the following clip from the classic but far too short-lived sketch comedy/variety show, Fridays. The show may have been meant to compete with Saturday Night Live but was really most memorable for the quality of its musical acts. I still remember seeing this when it originally aired in December 1981. Definite shock and awe.

(As always, subscribers may need to click through to the blog in order to view the video clips.)

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An Eye for the Holidays

With the onset of December came an idea that I'd get back to writing more regularly here, as I've been kind of missing the satisfaction of posting every day or two rather than just a couple of times a week. I don't know what I was thinking.... The first week of the month went pretty well but it's been all downhill from there.

December is just crazy, by far the busiest month of the year when it comes to the retail wine business. Thanksgiving may by the largest of the one-day holidays when it comes to wine sales and consumption but it's really just a warm up to the Christmas season. Take big meals on both Xmas Eve and Xmas Day and add in personal and corporate gift giving (not to mention self gifting).... It makes for long days with no time to stop and little energy left for writing at either end of the day. So, I'll take quick inspiration as it comes.

When a local Doc who stopped into the shop the other day mentioned that, "The Residents will come by to pick up these boxes," I couldn't help but conjure images of men in white suits with top hats perched atop their large eyeball masks, or perhaps something like you'll see in the following video. Not quite what he intended, I expect, but the associative leap brought a smile to my face.


(Subscribers may have to click through to the blog to view.)

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A Post-Halloween Sun Ra Triptych

I predict a few jumps in the blogland timeline over the next few days. For now, think of it as space travel à la the Sun Ra Arkestra, which continues to thrive on the universal energy of music in Mr. Ra’s memory. Under the leadership of longtime member Marshall Allen, the Sun Ra Arkestra kicked off Saturday night’s first performance of “Anti-Jazz: The New Thing Revisited,” a four-part series being cross-promoted by Ars Nova Workshop and International House Philadelphia that continues through next spring. It’s hard to think of a show more appropriate for Halloween night. Funkadelic, perhaps… or Gwar might come close. But this was the real deal.

The first video of the trio below sets the Sun Ra stage. The second comes closest to capturing some of the more anarchic, freewheeling moments of the Halloween gig, with a 28-years younger Marshall Allen blowing his alto with wild abandon. The third… well, you’ll figure that one out.

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Art Ensemble of Chicago

No time to write or post for the last few days, so I thought I'd at least share some good tuneage for the weekend. Back at it soon.... Until then, get your funky AEoC on.

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Timelessness

This one goes out to an old friend.... John Coltrane, performing "Naima" with McCoy Tyner, Elvin Jones and Jimmy Garrison. Recorded while I was in the womb, it remains -- and always will be -- beautifully visceral music.

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Desmond Dekker - Israelites

One of the most uplifting tunes I know, and I know it'll be in my head the rest of the day. Not a bad thing.

For those not keen on the old school version, with what's either lip synching or a badly out of synch audio/video track (particularly plain given Dekker's rather extreme oral stylings), here's a more contemporary version, recorded live, December 31, 2003, on Jools Holland's New Year's Eve Hootenanny special for BBC2.

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25 Years of Double Nickels on the Dime

I originally considered running this opposite my interview with California Zinfandel producer Michael Dashe that first appeared as a guest post at Saignée, but I half talked myself out of it and half ran short on time. Before doing the piece on Dashe, I hadn’t published a “formal” interview since my days of writing for DC music scene fanzines back in the 80s. When a friend reminded/clued me in that this month marks the 25th anniversary of the original release of Double Nickels on the Dime in July 1984, though, I just had to do it – no matter how self-indulgent.

Minutemen (there’s no “the” there) were one of my favorite bands of the early to mid 80s and Double Nickels was their benchmark release, an album that still passes the test of time with flying colors.

What you’ll find below is an interview that I conducted with D. Boon (guitar and vocals) and Mike Watt (bass and vocals) on January 3, 1985, in the basement dressing room of the old 9:30 Club in Washington, DC, prior to their gig in support of the release of Double Nickels. The transcript of the interview was originally published in WDC Period #8. I’ve transcribed it here verbatim, with minimal editing only for spelling, punctuation, and necessary info. (Any photo/scan captions are new additions.) It’s a moment in time, so please consider it that way. And consider yourself warned: it’s long. Enjoy the trip into the archives.

* * *

DMcD: How long have you been out on tour?

Watt: Oh, this is just a little blast. This is the first night and we’re playing tomorrow in Trenton, Saturday in New York, and Sunday in Boston and then back home. We’ll be out here April 11 – May 4 for a driver.

DMcD: Up and down the east coast?

Watt: Mainly east coast and the Great Lakes, that’s all, nowhere else. From now on we’re gonna do regional things.

DBoon: Makes sense, you don’t saturate….

Watt: Yeah, it affects your real life, two months on the road. But another thing is you saturate towns, especially if you don’t play areas and then rotate the areas. Black Flag’s having this trouble you know.

DMcD: Yeah, last time they were here only about 150 people showed up.

Watt: It’s the fourth time they’ve been to a town in three months. We want to stay away from that and do it by region so in April we’re gonna do this area, north to New England and the Great Lakes, and that’s all. Last time we did the whole fucking country and Canada – about 57 gigs.

DMcD: Didn’t that get a little expensive?

DBoon: Nah, we all made money. We were very lucky.

DMcD: You guys get a little more per show than most?

Watt: Oh, we average about 400 bucks per show… average… some shows more, some only 80. We made money on the tour though.

DBoon: We’re just thrifty. Ten bucks a day….

Watt: Ten bucks a day… some dude’s moochin’ (laughs).

The band toured every few months....
DMcD: A seasonal question: Did you guys make any new year’s resolutions?

DBoon: I did – to lose weight.

DMcD: D. stands for Dennis, right?

DBoon: With an e [Dennes], yes.

DMcD: Should that be off the record?

DBoon: No, that’s the name I was given. I’m a painter too, and I just sign my paintings D. Boon. You know when you have a two syllable name people kind of shorten it out – like your name’s David but we’re calling you Dave.

Watt: And D. was good too, ‘cause hardly anyone’s named that. There’s a lot of Dennises, but not the way he spells it. His ma spelled it wrong, with an e at the end.

DBoon: Actually, when it really got funny was when we were the Reactionaries. He was Mike Watt, George was G-man, and Marty was Mar-T. One syllable all the way.

Watt: This was our first punk rock band then.

DBoon: Marty [Tamburovich] was our old singer.

Watt: It was us three guys with a singer, the first time we ever wrote songs and all that.

DMcD: You played out in a shack?

Watt: We still play in a shed.

DMcD: Where’d the idea for the new album come from? You know, the cars on the cover and the engines revving on each side.

Watt: Well, we needed a concept to wrap it around ‘cause the Hüskers had this concept….

DMcD: You had to match the Hüskers, huh?

DBoon: Hell, a double album? We might as well.

Watt: But our tunes weren’t written all together as a concept, so we made one up.

DBoon: It’s Los Angeles, plus the title’s “Trucker Town.”

Watt: We drove 55 miles per hour…. It was the whole sprawl, you know, we thought it was really gonna be too sprawled for people, too spread out. We didn’t really think people would think it was so together as it turned out that people thought. So we tried all these interesting songs, other people’s lyrics, tried to keep people interested. We thought they’d get bored and think it was self-indulgent.

DBoon: We really did. We really thought it would be badly received.

DMcD: Whose car is on side 4?

Watt: Side Chaff. That’s all three of us revving up.

DBoon: On my side, my car’s a ’69 Chevy and two of the lifters aren’t paired right. It sounds like shit.

Watt: Almost as bad as my Volkswagen.

DMcD: Why’d you do “Little Man with a Gun in His Hand” again?

Watt: Originally, we had a really good two guitar part.

DBoon: I wrote the song and I wanted to do all these different things with it, you know. On Buzz or Howl [Under the Influence of Heat] it was like an experiment. We had just rehearsed it that day.

Watt: It was recorded live.

DBoon: And we went in the studio that night, so we did it.

Watt: And it’s recorded live to two-track, singin’ and playin’ at the same time. Buzz or Howl was done for $50, man. We jammed.

DBoon: And it was all done without any rehearsal…. I wanted to go back in and put overdubs and redo it the way it should have been.

Watt: That’s why we did it.

DBoon: We put an ending on it and stuff.

Watt: Oh yeah! The Buzz or Howl version doesn’t even have a real ending. We just faded it out.

DBoon: It fucked up in the bass and we just turned it down.

Watt: And then Spot added all that stuff like, “No one knows, no one knows….” That’s me yelling ‘cause those guys thought it fucked up the song and I said “No one knows.” Spot added that on without us knowing. He did the same thing on What Makes a Man Start Fires – “Where’s the blowtorch?” or something like that, and then all the little messages written in.

DMcD: The blank groove at the end of the record?

Watt: Yeah, that’s Spot and Joe Carducci. We have nothing to do with that. We’ve only scratched ‘em on one of our records. Most of them are Spot and Carducci. Carducci runs SST [Records].

DBoon: It’s kind of like their fun thing to do. I mean, they put out the records and all and they never really have a chance to help. I mean, they participate in their way but they just want something that they can have fun at. We’re not, like, upset about whatever they do.

Watt: No, no. We don’t take these things so seriously. We’re gonna start on our tenth record soon, you know. It’s just like a gig – we’re gonna have another record. It’s kind of neat. It’s called Tour Spiel and it’s got four tunes done live.

DMcD: A 7” on SST?

Watt: No, it’s on the Husker’s label and it’s got “Ain’t Talkin’ About Love,” “The Red and the Black,” “Green River,” and “Lost.” All four of those live from the Campaign Trail. Okay, that’s already done. At the end of this month we start the Mersh Project [Project: Mersh], which is gonna be a five song record which will be out April first.

DMcD: April fools day?

Watt: April Fools. And then ten days later we go on our tour, our Mersh tour. Mersh alive in ’85. It’s this joke we have. We’re gonna have songs that kind of fade out… no, I shouldn’t tell you what it is, it’ll ruin the surprise. You’ll see when it’s out. And then this summer another album, a real album. Minutemen albums are just like a gig in the studio. We really don’t put a lot into the production.

DMcD: Not a whole lot of overdubs or mixes?

Watt: Well, we’ll add another guitar… that’s it.

DBoon: You know, we do overdub but not extensively.

Watt: We don’t sing at the same time, but that’s it.

DBoon: On the whole double album, with all the songs in their entirety, we only spent $1200.

DMcD: How much studio time?

Watt: I’d say about six days. About 36-40 hours on the playing and maybe 20 hours on the mix. Ethan James mixed it. He used to be in Blue Cheer; now he works with the Minutemen. He had a different name in those days. He’s really nice. We worked in an 8-track studio; it’s very small and very real. You don’t have to do a second take, he’s got it. And that’s the way we like it. Just like gigs.


A classic Minutemen setlist... not sure whether this is from the show where I did the interview, the one before or the one after, but the time period's right.

DMcD: What’s your song writing process, if you have one?

Watt: There’s D. Boon songs, my songs and George songs, and there we go.

DBoon: A lot of them are jams; a lot of them are contrived.

Watt: Come to practice with a riff and here’s my words to it.

DMcD: Do you practice on your own a lot and think things up?

Watt: Sure, and then bring ‘em to the band. We hardly ever just start jamming’ out and then get a song out of it. We hardly ever do that. We’ve done it, but most of them – D. Boon brings in a riff, I’ll play to it, it’s his song. We’ve written over 200 songs and I think that way’s a little easier. You compromise. You give in on his song, he gives in on your song – you get a process down. George writes words; he’s really not into writing the music.

DBoon: There’s no absolute leader or direction point. We all take part.

Watt: Me and Dennes have been playin’ together since we were 13, so that’s 14 years.

DMcD: Did you have a cover tune band or something?

Watt: Not even that, just in the bedroom. Blue Oyster Cult, T. Rex, Creedence Clearwater Revival….

DBoon: And my parents would come up and tell us to “turn that shit down.”

Watt: Yeah right, and then in high school we really only made a couple of gigs. Mostly just jammin’ in the bedroom. We come from the middle 70s, you know.

DBoon: Boredom!

Watt: I wasn’t into a club until I was 19. I saw the Talking Heads at the Whiskey in ’77, when you could actually see the dudes play. And then the local bands like the Germs. I said, “We can do this,” and it was hard to get D. Boon to do it but then we went for it after about half a year. Pedro was really backwards. Couldn’t get nobody to really do it.

DBoon: The first punk show I went to I was going, “Man, those people are crazy.” At my first show I was just checkin’ it out and like a week later we went again and then I went down and pogo-ed.

Watt: Yeah, you did say, “Hey, these guys are lame,” because you’re so used to the stadium thing that you forget that these guys are tryin’ something on their own. But you don’t know that. You’re brought up on that whole ‘70s aesthetic of “the show goes on.”

DBoon: I mean, nobody can be ELP, so you might as well forget it. I mean, that’s the way it was.

Watt: Just hope to copy the record. You never even thought of writing tunes.

DBoon: Like the best guitar player in school was the guy who could play like Jimmy Page, and it was hands down, no contest. No one else could come close.

Watt: No one would write their own tunes.

DBoon: Well, they would, but they’d be like two chords or somethin’ and a big lead jam.

Watt: Well everyone had their, you know… you did “Burn” (laughs). Those were different days and we’re glad they’re gone…. So that’s what we come from. We don’t really come from jazz backgrounds; that’s what we developed in our twenties.

DBoon: Tell him that catch about….

Watt: Oh yeah, we do have a jazz influence: Buck Dharma. His dad was a top saxophonist, and there’s our jazz connection.

DMcD: Through Blue Oyster Cult?

Watt: Oh yeah, we were heavily into Buck but we thought BOC was the most progresso rock, you know. Tyranny and Mutation – this is the hardest rock. We really looked up to them, you know. Creedence was real easy; that’s how we learned. So that’s what we come out of, that’s our history – comin’ up from Pedro to check out the Hollywood punk rock and finally getting’ balls to try it on our own. And then finally, hardcore happens. Hardcore happened two years after punk rock. I hope people realize that. Anyways… and then Black Flag got all kinds of gigs and we got to open for them. Hundreds of gigs getting spit on… (laughs). But they were gigs!

DBoon: Before the days of Black Flag there was this big upper thing, though. Like if you weren’t from Hollywood then you could never play a Hollywood gig.

Watt: That’s how punk rock was in L.A. – ya’ couldn’t have a tan! If you had a tan like you had been in the sun, they knew you were from Orange County.

DBoon: And if you wore a t-shirt or, like, Levis….

Watt: Yeah, you had to wear black.

DMcD: You had to look anemic and wear black clothes…?

Watt: Right (laughs).

DBoon: It wasn’t like if your hair was long or anything, cause Hollywood guys had real long hair and they just tied it up.

Watt: Sure, most of ‘em were burned out critters.

DBoon: If you didn’t have a hair style… yeah, we didn’t have hair style or anything. I mean, we kinda’ got into it….

Watt: We painted Clash thing on our shirts. We saw the Clash when they first came and we painted things on our shirts.

DBoon: But, you know, Hollywood people were just really bent on appearance. But we would go up there with our six packs and stuff and just watch bands. We always tried to get gigs but we were from the suburbs. Finally, Black Flag started getting really gig gigs where 500 people would come.

Watt: Their second gig was our first gig. They really just happened into that. It was weird how that hardcore thing happened, but what it did was it moved from Hollywood to the suburbs. There were no bands….

DMcD: But now there’s a band for every block in Orange County.

Watt: We’ve noticed, which was kind of neat about the Hollywood bands. It was fucked that they were elitists, but a lot of the bands were different. You could tell them apart. That Decline [of Western Civilization] movie, I think, really made things almost all the same. You go into these little towns and they all have their Decline band, and that’s the only band there, and they’re real radical. But I try to tell ‘em, “Hey, it really ain’t that way. It’s been happening for eight years. It’s an institution. Take the ball and run with it, you’re free enough. You’re lucky you ain’t like us, growin’ up and havin’ to play somebody else’s shit. You don’t have to do that now.” I think it’ll close up again.

DMcD: You really think so?

Watt: Oh sure, things are circles. We have guitar solos. When we started the Minutemen, we killed all the guitar solos. We didn’t want any of that. Now we have guitar solos.

DMcD: Still no choruses, though.

Watt: Not yet. We just try whatever we try, you know, but things do revolve in circles I think. Try for a direction.


The cover photos from "Double Nickels" were a geeked-out way to wrap up the concept album. The concept turned out to have a tragically ironic twist, though, when D. Boon died in a car accident just before Xmas 1985, less than two years after the album's release. There was no Internet those days and long distance calls were expensive; I found out about D.'s passing via a press release from SST. Listening to Double Nickels has been poignant ever since....


DMcD: I hear you guys have been doing acoustic gigs lately.

Watt: Sure, we’ve done about twelve of them. They’re just like electric gigs except we’ve got acoustic guitars. We don’t change the songs, except for some parts.

DBoon: George plays bongos. It’s pretty beatnik.

Watt: We just do it to fill a different demand. We don’t really play folksy songs, we just play the same old songs exactly that way.

DMcD: Any chance of one of those happening here in DC?

Watt: Sure, why not?

DBoon: Maybe we should try to set up something where we play earlier and play at different places.

Watt: We’re still jumpin’ around and stuff but it’s just all little. It’s kind of fun. We don’t really sit there and wail out Woody Guthrie. A lot of bands do, like the Knitters. They’re some people from X but they play all this different stuff. They don’t play X songs on acoustic guitar.

DMcD: So… there’s a promo 12” for Double Nickels that has etching on a blank side.

Watt: Right, that’s the radio promo, “The Wheel of Fortune.”

DMcD: There’s a dollar sign…

DBoon: A swastika, a hammer and sickle…

Watt: And a joint. All inside a wheel.

DMcD: Why?

DBoon: That’s Carducci.

DMcD: Somebody told me it was because one of you was a die-hard republican, one of you was a communist, one of you gets high and you all drive cars. (Meanwhile, D. Boon cracks up in the background.)

Watt: Nah, you know, it’s like, “Where’s the wheel land this time?” That’s what it meant; that’s what Carducci…

DBoon: Well, you see, back home we have this reputation of being, like, a political band, politically conscious, right, and those guys make fun of us like it’s a waste of time. You know… you should just worry about this and worry about that. It was just kinda’ like a joke. It’s like we all smoke pot and we all drive cars and we talk about money and communism and fascism, but not in any direct point of view like we’re behind this or that. It’s more him just making fun of us. And I kinda liked it; I thought it was funny, especially the joint. It was just a joke, you know. It was a Carducci joke.

Watt: I know what it was. He told me when he did it. We only had one record for the radio promo ‘cause it was too expensive to give out the double album. We had one side – 9 songs. He picked them. We called it the “Wheel of Fortune” ‘cause this was the first time we ever culled songs, so it was like “spin the wheel and where does it land.”

DMcD: For the nine songs?

Watt: No, for the whole idea, and Joe’s idea at the time was like us, our personalities, like when you talk to him the guy’s got a joint in his mouth or he’s rappin’ on commies, and he’s like, “Where’s the wheel spin this time?” We all smoke pot but we’re not into Nazism, but a lot of radio stations we wrote to were angry over that. They thought we were pro-Nazi. No way! It was just like the messages added onto the end of all the other records, this objective SST viewpoint.

DBoon: And the English release...

Watt: The England SST doesn’t feel real confident about us ‘cause we’ve sold hardly any records in Europe. Hüsker does great, Meat Puppets does great but we do really bad. The cover’s gonna be like the US Double Nickels but it does not open and it’s black and white. I don’t know why they don’t like us over there that much. Maybe it’s the name….

DMcD: I never thought about that. Maybe you’re just not “hard” enough… then again the Meat Puppets are not too hard, either.

Watt: They’re gonna make a third record on SST soon. Live, they’re not like their records at all. Their gigs are on or off, they get too buzzed when they’re playing. They get all bummed out and turn into themselves. Sometimes they play real good…. They know how to play good, though; you can tell on the records.

DMcD: So, going back to what we were talking about earlier, do you consider yourselves a political band?

DBoon: We are aware of people.

DMcD: Like on the first seven inch, Paranoid Time, all the songs have political lyrics.

Watt: Yeah, it was a paranoid time. We were writin’ about what was on our minds at that time. It was the first time we wrote songs in our fuckin’ life. It wasn’t like the Reactionaries, ‘cause those songs were real boring. That’s what we were like then, and that’s the first time we ever wrote tunes. As a band, sure, some of our songs are political. It’s mostly commentary.

OVER.

* * *
And out... with a classic video, one of the two released in support of Double Nickels on the Dime.

Intro only...

Earth Bread + Brewery: Session Beer and Daily Bread

After a Sunday matinee at the Keswick Theatre, my wife and I decided to forego the post-concert crowds at the couple of watering holes in Glenside, PA, and instead head a few clicks down the road. Earth Bread + Brewery has been on my radar ever since first-time restaurant owners Tom Baker and Peggy Zwerver opened their new digs in Mount Airy last year. An unseasonably hot April evening seemed like as good a time as any to stop in for an early dinner.

While I’d already heard encouraging words about the pizzas at Earth Bread + Brewery, it was the buzz on the beer program that had really caught my attention. Just about every brewer I met over the course of Philly Beer Week back in March seemed to be talking about this guy who’s been brewing low-alcohol session beers somewhere in the Philly area. That guy would be Tom Baker, former brewer of big, burly beers at Heavyweight in New Jersey. And as much as I like the occasional Imperial IPA or Belgian Triple, I prefer – much as with wine – a lower alcohol brew when it comes to sitting down at the table and pairing with food, so I was keen to check out Baker’s work.

It turns out that Tom had only one such beer on tap during our visit, a 2.8% Belgian-style ale called Monkey Brain Tonic. Dark copper colored, softly textured and just barely effervescent, it delivered just what I expect it was intended to – easy drinkability. I might have hoped for a little more aromatic complexity or a little funk to brighten things up, but those are small quibbles. I could easily see drinking it all afternoon.


Baker and Zwerver have made a pointed effort to build a low-impact, green business. Their website includes a list of some of the recycled and environmentally friendly materials used throughout the restaurant but doesn’t make mention of the wooden wine crates repurposed into the global mosaic that hangs above EB+B’s in-house brewing space.



As it turns out, the pizzas – actually, EB+B makes a point of using the word “flatbread” instead of “pizza” – were pretty solid too. The dough could benefit from a pinch more salt but was texturally right on, crispy and bubbly from a quick turn in the wood-fired hearth. Even though I’m still waiting for an explanation for the distinction between “flatbread” and “pizza” – our waitress wasn’t able to provide one – I can kind of understand the choice of nomenclature. The crust had a chew and ground wheat nuttiness that did indeed remind me more of Middle Eastern bread than of standard pizza dough.


The wood-fired pizza oven dominates the lower level of the first floor dining room. Baker's easy drinking Monkey Brain Tonic matched quite nicely with EB+B’s Traditional flatbread (pictured at left), while the richer malt character and front-palate sweetness of his Stickie Alt (not quite session-strength but still reasonable at 6%) helped to temper the spice and zest of the sausage and pepper pesto pie.


There’s nothing at Earth Bread + Brewery that screams out for notice, nothing that stakes a claim as a destination restaurant. The menu is tiny, not offering much beyond flatbreads and a couple of salads. The flatbreads aren’t likely to appear on any pizza aficionados’ best-in-town lists. But the prices are fair, the atmosphere comfortable if a tad sterile and the brew and breads good enough that, if EB+B were in my own neighborhood, I’d be inclined to make it a regular session on my schedule.


Earth Bread + Brewery
7136 Germantown Avenue
Philadelphia, PA
215-242-6666


* * *
“What about that concert,” you ask? It was John McLaughlin and Chick Corea’s Five Peace Band.

I’ve long ago sworn off the punk rock old-timer or all-star reunion tours. The jazz equivalent, however, still occasionally manages to catch me in its clutches. Sometimes it pays off, as I’ve seen stellar performances from the likes of Herbie Hancock and Ornette Coleman (independently) over the last couple of years. Too many others, though, have just been guys going through the paces, relying on their name and fame to draw the crowds. This was one of those, I’m afraid. I’ll give Corea the benefit of charity as he played casually but well, with creative restraint. McLaughlin, on the other hand, was a real disappointment. To paraphrase my wife, if this is his standard gig perhaps it’s time for him to retire. Their support was certainly talented enough – Philly's own Christian McBride displayed pyrotechnic proficiency on the electric bass and Kenny Garrett was cool if a little too collected on alto sax – but drummer Brian Blade was the only one of the Five to display anything along the lines of real soul and energy. Most of all, the band just wasn't together. Not a total loss... but I was hoping for something more along the lines of this:

Mahavishnu Orchestra

Intro only...