Guy got a haircut

Rachel Fannan and band opened. She had a great band, a great voice, cool songs, Uncle Vic was kicking in and they lead guitarist’s surfy jangley thing was making me swoon but some dumb bitches in the audience couldn’t shut their big ugly mouths. It was deafening, you know how girls get when they’re drunk. Stupid. I really don’t care about your red handbag or whatever. It’s not that funny. You’re not that pretty. You have an annoying voice you learned to use in clubs and bars while trolling for coke. I came here to listen, you douchebags. Rachel noticed, maybe glared a couple times but she kept her cool. When she was done though she bolted backstage, thanking all those that actually came to listen. She looked pissed off and rightfully so. She was really giving it her all. I felt sorry for her. Dumb San Francisco music scene. Actually, dumb people that go to Slim’s.

But whatever, Uncle Vic and that Knob Creek on the rocks was working pretty good and I was with my girl and we went across the street for a Thanksgiving style crepe and I could hear the

Paz

opening song so we raced inside and pushed our way to the front. Mel had never seen Entrance though I’ve talked them up enough. The first song was cool, just warming up. Then they played something new. I was happy to hear something new after hearing Grim Reaper Blues and MLK about a million times or whatever. And then another new song, and another. Paz was feeeling it. She took off her blouse and all she had on was a rad little black skin tight thing and the songs were a bit more of a groove and she certainly owning it. Guy, on the other hand, was going through the motions. Maybe Paz had more invested in these new ditties. They seemed off, like Guy wasn’t really on the same page, but the effect was a bit mesmerizing and psychedelic. Still, the songs weren’t nearly as ambitious as the old stuff and it got boring. I can’t believe I’m saying this. Entrance Band boring? Fuck that. Another symptom of a bad venue with a horrible crowd? At this point I didn’t know.

Then they were off the stage and the audience gave a rather meager attempt to get them back. I said to Mel, “This is where they play the old stuff and now you’re gonna see something.”

Sure enough, they hit the stage and played just one song, Grim Reaper Blues, and they put in a few twists and it was brilliant. Mel leaned back and said, “You’re right. This stuff is so much better.”

I hate to be one of those, Their older stuff is better, kind of vibe guys, but it’s true. That shit sux in comparison. Get some balls back and go get really stoned and see what comes out, so to speak. Fuck all. Still, that last song almost, but not quite, made up for a rather mediocre evening. Thanks for nothing, Slim’s.

Listen on headphones, relax, turn down the lights, have no other distractions and the blend of frequencies will transport you elsewhere…Please comment on your experience.

“Politics is bad for Religion, and Religion is bad for Politics”.mp3

Bianaural Beats and Binaural Recording are related yet different. Binaural recording is a process for recording 3-dimensional audio for playback on headphones. There is a slightly different signal reaching each ear that renders the 3-D affect in much the same way that your brain processes auditory signals.

Binaural Beatz - use headphones!

Binaural Beats makes use of a similar technology, different signals to each ear, for a different purpose. A slightly different auditory frequency is created for each ear creating a pulse, or beat, to be perceived by the brain. Different functions for Binaural Beats are reported, mostly anecdotally.

Excerpts:

Binaural beats or binaural tones are auditory processing artifacts, or apparent sounds, the perception of which arises in the brain for specific physical stimuli. This effect was discovered in 1839 by Heinrich Wilhelm Dove, and earned greater public awareness in the late 20th century based on claims that binaural beats could help induce relaxation, meditation, creativity and other desirable mental states. The effect on the brainwaves depends on the difference in frequencies of each tone, for example, if 300 Hz was played in one ear and 310 in the other, then the Binaural beat would have a frequency of 10 Hz. (more…http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Binaural_beats)

Report: Teens Using Digital Drugs to Get High

Kids around the country are getting high on the internet, thanks to MP3s that induce a state of ecstasy. And it could be a gateway drug leading teens to real-world narcotics.

At least, that’s what Oklahoma News 9 is reporting about a phenomenon called “i-dosing,” which involves finding an online dealer who can hook you up with “digital drugs” that get you high through your headphones. (more…http://www.wired.com/threatlevel/2010/07/digital-drugs/#)

Taking a Look at

I-Doser: A Legal Alternative to Illicit Drugs

In a world where illegal drugs run rampant, did getting high just become much easier? An online music site may provide a legal high that is undetectable, has no health side effects, and can be performed at your computer. I-Doser is a new

Digital Drugs, from Harper's Magazine

online service that sells musical tracks for prices between $1-$5 per track. Each track in their library is named after a particular drug, both legal and illegal. The tracks are supposed to give the listener a similar experience to that of the drug it is named after. These tracks range from alcohol, to marijuana, to sleep aids, to ecstacy, to crystal meth, to heroine. The site boasts itself as a legal alternative to the illicit drugs that are rampant today. This sounds very interesting, but does it work? (more…http://www.bloggernews.net/16919)

Los Tikkilyches are a five piece from Sayulita, Mexico that describe themselves as “latin-surf-funk-rockin’soul-reggae fusion” who played recently with a Sacramento funky trio, The Scwamigos for two beautiful nights of eclectic musical maestrosity.

Los Tikkilyches play in all the restaurants and bars in and around Puerto Vallarta and they’re bringing their significant musical chops to the Western States for a couple months of rampant touring and tearing it up.

Both bands played their lights out in two venues the weekend of Aug. 7-9 and demonstrated true musical transcendence. Schwa Monley, bassist for Schwamigos, is nearly as much fun to watch as he is to hear, with the funk happening on a grand scale. Alejandro on drums and Hunter as frontman scoop up the funky vibe and groove to unheard of heights.

In the Tikkilyches, we got Alyssa Adams on keys and vocals with the beautiful grace and style. She harmonizes with Julia Blumenthal on guitar while Jonas Brewer holds down the lows and the beautiful flute solos and works his hair and his chilled out beatific personality pretty good as well. There’s a new guy on drums, Chad Sylva who’s worked out his amazing chops in Nashville for the last ten or twenty years. His fills are so clean they bring a tear to the eye. And then forget

Los Tikkilyces

about the guitar player, Jess Edmondson, if you’re worried about crying because his tasty guitar leads and solos fill the air with enough creamy goodness to fill the tear coffers of the most industrious tear merchant. Lightning fast and graceful is an understatement and it’s enough to turn everyone’s body into “one giant ear” according to the musician himself. Plus, the beard alone is worth the price of admission.

They got the whole glorious crowd gyrating exponentially and feverishly and nobody wanted it to stop. It was so frenetic my nice digital camera flew apart into a million pieces spontaneously and luckily nobody got hurt. Russ flew himself to the floor once, but made a graceful recovery, moved to his left and kept eveyone’s groove alive. We all felt gloriously alive and swam down the rapids of love and nostalgia until the next show.

Catch their tour right here: wooooo!

Too much shit is going on and all I want to do is rock!

After an epic weekend in Big Sur I just didn’t get enough of Entrance Band and this is their last stop in SF before the big new record drops. I ran into Paz (bass, a perfect circle, Zwan etc…) in a little gift store down on highway one and she informed me about this show with Nebula and, to my surprise, some old acquaintances Kaura. There’s a connection there, as there always is, but I’m not yet in the know.

I couldn’t get any delinquents to come along, which is a shame, but everyone in the city has got there thing and I guess there’s no time built into the schedule to witness near perfection. There’s that recording session, or that FIFA game, or that social network or whatever, but this is real. This is happening. It’ll affect you or it’ll influence you and it’ll surely leave a mark. But I get it. There’s a time for influence and a time to make it happen. One thing is certain: there’s not enough time for everything. But this is something I’m not willing to compromise on. Entrance at Elbo, are you kidding?

Kaura go first. This is a surprise. I know there’s a Paz connection in there somewhere. Is it the guitar player? He looks vaguely familial. Whatever, they fire right up and the wall of sound doesn’t let up until their penultimate song when the guitar player unleashes a magnum opus of arpeggiated LPness that would do Slash’s Sweet Child riff proud and it was the one highlight. It was rad. Totally. The rest of their set was not really my thing, to be quite honest. Typical songwriting conundrum where everyone is struggling to be heard and nothing is, and the fine vocals are the first to be washed away in a sea of sonic doom. It’s hard to make out a melody. It’s hard to get carried away by the emotion because there doesn’t seem to be one. The gear is perfect, the hair and the outfits, the concept with the “World” intstruments, the connections, the chops even, but something is sorely missing. Still, it’s pretty close. Nothing that a good producer couldn’t repair. This is exactly why live music is worthy. A bunch of kids with dreams and a lot of hard work. Maybe nothing comes out of it but fun and a lot of love, but that’s good enough. These are the times of your lives.

I went out for a smoke and came back up to an entirely different stage scene. All the overblown Marshall stacks gone. The huge drumkit gone. Paraphernalia, stripped away. In it’s place a simple kit, one Mesa Bass Cube and a Fender 2X12 of some kind. The stage looked naked but when Entrance hit the air was filled with lovely, earthshaking, coherently cacophonous, beautiful noise.

Paz’s bass tone was magic, round, powerful, magnetic and articulate. Guy’s Telecaster had that shimmery, extra delayed out glass and his vocals a tinge of slapback and those PA speakers at Elbo are pretty damn fantastic.

They started with “Crowded Train” which has a great bass riff and Paz shines right from the start. Her fingers dance, she gets into a trance, her recently washed locks hang in her face and she rocks as if she means it. You can tell when someone’s just going through the motions, when someones just trying to emulate a good practice on stage or when someone is really feeling it. Great musician’s are always feeling it because they love music. Sure, some nights are better than others. It’s a job. But there’s always a spark. If there’s not, you’re done. Put a fork in you.

Paz has it. Guy always has it. Derek looks like he’s just trying to keep up and he’s doing a fine job. His hair alone is worth the price of admission. And what about their outfits. Could they be any less rockstar? Kaura comes out with perfect rockstar attire and do a workmanlike job. Guy comes out with an old white t-shirt and white jeans and puts more rock into one hammer-on than a chorus of post Cobain posers and it’s what it is, and more because this kind of music transcends.

You might not be that into Guy’s caterwauling or his look or his style or his ethic or whatever, but you can’t deny their utter power. He’s a singer-song writer in every sense and you got to get into his thing. It’s there for all to see. Can’t wait until Sept. 1st when the album drops.

After the set I ran into Malcolm of Kaura back at the merch table and asked him about the connection with Entrance.

“Oh, she recorded with us on our first EP. She played violin on it. So this is great. It’s like a reunion. And then came A Perfect Circle and Zwan and now Entrance so it’s really great to see her back in her element again.”

“Cool, what do these guys, Nebula, sound like?”

“Total psychedelic stoner rock. They’re good. You should stay and check ‘em out.”

Thanks, I will. Nebula hit. Another power trio and I tried to justify the term “stoner rock”.  They weren’t exactly chilled out. They weren’t exactly splayed out on the couch playing video games. They weren’t inept and listless, but it was hard to tell if they had the munchies. I guess there’s a third way. You can move your fingers a little and turn the amps up and get them to do all the work, I guess that’s what stoner rock is. It’s loud enough. It’s got some requisite pomp. It’s accessible. It rocks, sort of. Maybe a really good laser show would put it over the top. I’m tired, time to hit the hot tub and fire one up and go to bed.

The Few show up in Santa Cruz

The Ferocious Few are a local San Francisco rock duo that I’m assisting because they’re truly great and are undoubtedly heading to stardom, whatever that means. The frontman and songwriter, Francisco Fernandez is a true rock star in the traditional sense of the word, not the made up, puffed up, commercialized up, bogus modern sense of the term since the death of Curt Cobain. This duo is legit in every sense of the word and they have the goods to deliver. The world has been sadly missing true rock stardom in favor of soundalike one hit wonders backed by phony monied interests and video game / ringtone mentalities since the early 90′s. It’s been a barren landscape of bullshit, if you ask me, pretty maybe and danceable, but empty of true passion caught on tape for all the ages.

Entrance, shredding!

Francisco is assisted on drums by Daniel Aguilar – a truer, nicer, more authentic individual with exacting taste could not be found. His drumming style – using brushes primarily – is so far out of vogue that one wonders where it comes from.

Your mind stops all questions when you hear them live (if they’re given then chance for a good sound check, that is) because they rock and they’ve developed a truly unique sound over the past two or three years of busking in the streets of San Francisco to make a living. They have plenty of help lately, with everyone knocking down their door and they’re ready to explode with a first official record due to be released on Birdman Records sometime this winter.

Paz Lenchantin, Derek James - Entrance Band

Full discosure: I’m not making a dime on this venture nor am I getting paid at any time in the future for this article or any other. I believe in great music and great personality and this is it, folks. Jump on board – this space will continue to follow their ascending progress in pictures, audio and anecdotes. Feel free to drop me a note and I’ll pass it on to the guys.

Now, the first stop on the journey is Big Sur, to go see The Entrance Band at the Henry Miller Library and to tear it up along the way developing our road skills. We recently hooked up a system utilizing the car’s battery to power all the amps and these guys can literally play in the Redwoods – and that’s exactly what they did – but not before a fine roadtrip South along beautiful Highway One, making a stop in Santa Cruz to play on the streets for a little cash (that always seems to be the limiting factor, but they manage to make scads of it because people literally throw money at them all the time) until the got kicked out by “hospitality” and I’d gone ahead on my new KZ650 to scout out future locations and to make sure I didn’t miss the big show.

Pigeon Pt. Lighthouse

I was looking forward to this for three months when I’d bought the tickets. I’d met a girl at Tartine Bakery in the Mission that turned me onto them (Entrance) via her exceptionally cute autoharp Myspace page. The girl wasn’t feeling me ultimately, but I learned about Entrace through her so all was well in the Universe, just about (she and her little doggie were exceptionally cute and lovely in their own right).

Anyway, the Few arrived and Entrance rocked amazingly hard and the venue was sans pareil in the redwoods with a little fog in front of the Memorial Library of one of my heroes and I was pretty much beside myself though I was starting to worry about the guys enjoying themselves because they were busy trying to make a connection with the organizer hoping to play on the grounds between bands or something.

Well, that wasn’t gonna happen so we just set them out in the parking lot, just outside the gate and they collected a nice little crew of new followers who were streaming out of the exit. Stephen Malkmus himself stopped by for a good long while, until they quit and wanted to play a song himself through the gear, until I pointed out the fact that Francisco is left handed and that would certainly pose a huge problem.

Shotgun style, Henry Miller Library parking lot

It was quitting time, the kids had a nice little dance session in the dirt, and it was time to find a camping spot. Some random blond girls were in a similar predicament without reservations and I led the way through the fog to a scary place with crazy weasels at Andrew Molera State park. The girls were fun and we drank their gin and made hand puppets and funny faces and woke up refreshed and went for a walk to the ocean in the morning.

Scary little "mouse"

We were off, though, to breakfast and we chilled our heels in the river and tried to calm down and made it to Nepenthe’s for some more relaxation while we made the next move. I was staying, wouldn’t miss this scenery and environment for anything and the guys peaced out for more feduciary gains and plus, they had an interview at KALX in Berkeley later in the evening.

Camping randoms

I stayed, made friends with the waitress, who told me about the Pink Floyd cover band etc…but first I ran into Paz and chatted her up in a little gift shop, very nice and then after I ate a sandwich in the Spirit Circle I went down the cliff and witnessed the most epic surf day of the year and all the super stoked locals, totally beside themselves. It was pure magic.

Biggest swell of the year

House of Floyd was pretty epic although some of their tones were questionable especially that fake acoustic thing on “Wish you were Here”. What the hell was that? But, it was a nice foggy tripping evening and the Beats would have been proud and so would their spiritual leader, RIP, and it was off to the same scary campground.

House of Floyd, setting up

But first I made a stop at Fernwood where a very good funk band was tearing it up, Naomi Wilder, who was so damn sexy I could barely control myself, but alas she was aloof. To bed.

Next day up at Seven and on the road with nary a stop. The guys were playing a poolside show at the Phoenix Hotel for some fashion show and there was no time to lose. They depended on me for sound, and although it was total crap with more feedback than a dying elephant, good times were had and we met some fascinating people and nobody got hurt.

Kristin

Francisco stayed behind to make some connections and I rode straight home, after saying Hi to one of the models/talent and went directly into the hot tub. Paradise.

The “Whoever shows up on Sunday” Jazz Band

Classical Revolution

Track listing: 1&2 – Jazz Band; 3&4 Classical Revolution (Sundays from 8:30).

Revolution Cafe (22nd btwn Valencia and Mission) is a funky little hipster cafe with a few outside tables for smoking and more smoking and they have quiet live music just about every nite, things that run from gypsy jazz to fusion and thousand year old classical or Balinese gamelan. It’s a nice little spot that serves coffee, beer, wine and a small selection of eats including sandwiches and they serve a pretty mean little sangria for $5.00.

The music is surprisingly good, though a little tough to hear sometimes over the cafe din of espresso machine and local wiseguys discussing Nietzsche or their latest art project for burning man or the movie they envision. Outside is particularly smokey and purple hazy and it doesn’t seem like the cleanest place on the planet but the vibe is strong and the music fantastic and free. Tips are encouraged.

…………………………………………………………….

I had a pretty rough Sunday of mixing the album and so I rode on down the hill with a mean hunger to Vallarta’s tacos on 24th and planned to hit Tartine, but I rode past Revolution on 22nd and heard a pretty nice jazz band and so had my tea out on the patio with the stoners. The pretty barrista was there and I went against my plan of not drinking today and it was nice.

After the jazz guys I took a bunch of notes to myself about what the next year might have in store for me and Fran came by for a bit and we made some tentative plans, and vowed to talk about it further. We never got the chance because I got home and we started watching the final amazing set of the men’s finals of Wimbledon until the Tivo ran out of space and we switched over to the Tour De France and he peppered me with questions until I got disgusted and went to bed.

One final thought traipsing up the stairs; put the big JBL speakers together and get a few more things to round out a mobile Club and take it with us on the road and create our own shows in barns and such with the local acts. It’s brilliant. That’s what show promoters do, duh.

Good-night.

In this Review:

Beanbag cafe
Gaucho at Tartine

Bro on Stingray

My bike at Cassanova
The Ferocious Few on the corner of 16th and Valencia
Terrence McManus and Scott Amendola at Blue Six Center
Tacos at Vallarta, 24th at Treat
The Attic
Beauty Bar
Holly

Track listing of audio:
1) Gaucho at Tartine
2) Magpie by The Ferocious Few on the corner.
3) McManus and Amendola at Blue Six.

It started out on a low note. Racing down upper Market I hit a number of potholes and ended up with a pinchflat. City, do your job, it’s really hazardous out here. But then it got better. I fixed the tire and my Biology experiment went very well, finally, and I got the beautiful data out to JB and headed out early to the Beanbag Cafe. I was scheduled by the band to go home to re-amp all the vocals through the Crate Limo, but I had a bunch of photos to edit and I was on a roll, focused by all the “tea” and the pretty flowers. They looked gorgeous and some were even band related so i didn’t feel too bad about shirking my mixing responsibilities.

I told myself I would have only one beer (just $1.75 plus tax, $1.92 for Fat Tire or Prohibition or IPA or some micro special from 3-10PM every day) but I was really on a roll and I ended up getting a burger and another Fat Tire and my head was already swimming from the flowers and all the Peet’s Phoenix Mountain Oolong and I was a little afraid for my life riding back through the Western addition to my place up the hill. I had to stop by and pick up some more film at Photoworks on Market and then I raced up 18th as fast as I could on my beautiful LeMond Sarthe with a new tube and everything.

The singer was up and about, smoking the little cock pipe and wondering where I’d been because they made the effort to get the amp up there, but that’s the way it goes. I’m planning on taking the whole next day off to work on this stuff, although now it’s the next day and all I’ve done is clean my room, ride the Stingray down to the Mission for lunch in Dolores Park and now I’m at Tartine with my recycled coffee cup.

Anyway, it was about that time to meet Andrew, Joss and the word was out to Holly to come out to Cassanova. The plan was to meet there an hour before the show at Joe’s Blue Six Center and so I rode through the park and down the hill early because I wanted to cruise around the Mission on my newly refurbished 1969 chrome Schwinn Stingray.

I cruised through Dolores Park, popping a wheelie all the way down the grass, and made it straight to Tartine where Gaucho had a couple more songs in them. They have a great Tuba player and the accordion guy seemed like a standout and they’re well worth seeing, usually at Amnesia on Wednesday nights, I believe, but don’t take my word for it.

I was looking forward to seeing Holly, who has been elusive, but stays in touch and now she’s says that she’s rehearsing until 9:00 and so I move onto Cassanova and wait for Andrew, a new bro from work who just moved into the Marina to be near all the pretty girls, but I’m riding in and out with my bike and using it as a barstool and I feel pretty retro and notable and I’m smoking a Drum outside and coming in for a swig and riding here and there checking to see if the Few are on the corner and I cruise by Monks Kettle to say Hi to Katy through the glass and she gives me a hard time for not seeing Amanda any more, but she can always

Gaucho, gypsie jazz at Tartine Bakery

contact me you know, and then I cruise around and the Few are setting up and I go finish up my beer, wheel out, and now I’m rolling a Drum for the singer and I’m sitting there on my banana seat when Drew rolls up and is digging the scene.

We stay for a couple of songs, the guys are just phoning it in, but I get a better sense of their well developed street sound and I take some mental notes about Gasoline and Cocaine for my mix. It’s gonna be tight.

And now it’s time to head out to 24th and so I wheel on down, Drew’s gonna take a bus but he’s envious of my sweet wheels, as is everyone just about, and I take my

The Ferocious Few on the corner

time cruising by Latin America Club and Revolution but nothing is going on and so I keep it alive and lock up right in front of the little “club” which is already underway.

I enter the dimly lit space, David is at the bar/door and Joe is seated on the left. I whisper Hi because it’s decidedly quiet and respectful, like a church and the guys are in the middle of a hushed section of their avant-garde Jazz masterpiece that lasts about 25 more minutes of masterful drumming that hardly consists of any traditional drumming at all, rather rimshots, cymbal scrapes, clanks on the side of the heads or the hardware, just about anything but stick on head, and guitar playing that has hardly any notes but rather, fun with 60Hz electric hum, hand squeeking on the neck and back of the guitar, controlled feedback, bow scraping, random fingering and paperclipping. It was rad. I had a couple of beers and wondered if Drew was feeling it because there was hardly anyone here, no girls to speak of, and I’m sure the difficult nature of the music wasn’t anyone’s cup of tea although the two were clear experts at their

McManus and Amendola at BlueSix

instruments and he said he really got into it, so there you go. The space is great and Joe clearly has good taste and it’s about as chill as it gets and so I highly recommend it.

It was time for a smoke with Joe, but first we went nextdoor to Vallarta for their amazing $1.50 tacos, best I’ve had since L.A. or San Diego and it’s my new late night spot even though Farolito is nearby, but fuggut, this place is less crowded and even more legit. The salsa was really hot and good and the smoke was great and Joe showed us the greenroom and I really wanted to ask him about some of the details about running a little club but now

Joe at BlueSix

was not the time and we just laughed about women and how they turn our alpha off and then they’re through with us. I guess it’s just a test, I said, to see just how alpha we really are.

It was off to Beauty Bar for Drew and I but we stopped in at The Attic first and there were some really pretty girls in there all hanging out with what we referred to as their Zeta males. It was a Mission conundrum. Here were were too alpha and too beta in the Marina. What’s a guy to do? We just couldn’t get over what these hot girls had for these guys. I’m sure it makes perfect sense, but it’s still a mystery and endlessly mindblowing. Like the guys that go out with those hot girls at Tartine. They must have amazing talents that are not immediately obvious.

The girls were were talking to at The Attic were a dead end and so we downed our Jamisons and made it straight to Beauty Bar, pointing out Medjool on the way

Some French guy outside Beauty Bar

down because I thought he might appreciate although I will never step foot in that dooshy place again for as long as I live.

Beauty Bar was going off although the only good song he played was a Jackson Five song, and all the girls were super wasted and we made the most of it but it was a fools errand and I talked to a bunch of French guys outside and let them ride my Stingray and the one guy told me I should take it to Paris with me because I would have a lot of “success”. It was rad and they all had huge smiles on their faces as they rode around and popped wheelies and then I just took off and rode up the hill.

Yes, I went up Cumberland and I was planning on dropping off a flower but I could remember the license plate number of her car and I wasn’t sure if it was even there and I got a vision of her parked at some other guy’s place and so I kept walking up the hill and I didn’t feel too bad after all.

Holly completely flaked though and so she gets only a half a star out of five. The half comes from keeping my informed of her progress by text all night, but she never made it out so subrtact 4 1/2.