Posted by glen609 on July 30, 2009
Audio of Entrance Band in Big Sur, 07/24/09…
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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.
Posted by glen609 on July 6, 2009
In this review:
The “Whoever shows up on Sunday” Jazz Band
Classical Revolution
Track listing: 1&2 - Jazz Band; 3&4 Classical Revolution (Sundays from 8:30).
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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.
Posted by glen609 on July 4, 2009
July 2nd, 2009
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.
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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.
Posted by glen609 on May 31, 2009
The Ferocious Few are a band to watch. They follow in the duo footsteps
The Ferocious Few's sweet ride
of The Two Gallants or the Dodos, but these guys are up tempo and energetic. Think a coked out Bob Dylan for the new urban hipsters. They just signed with Birdman records and expect their first official album soon. Many people in SF are already familiar with their amazing street perfomances and are clamoring for a good record. We are hopeful…
Here’s a pretty worthwhile live performance from the Bottom of the Hill.
coming soon…
P.S. For audiophiles: I recorded this out in the crowd with a mindisc and stereo in-ear mics and also direct from the board with a flash recorder and combined the two tracks later with a little alignment.
Posted by glen609 on May 26, 2009
“Searing.” That’s what the guy next to me kept saying after every piece. Also, “That guy is the Pink Floyd of the 1700s,” referring to Mozart or, “The Kurt Cobain of the 1790s.”
I don’t know about that.
Classical is a tough job at a cafe packed full of people talking, smoking, and drinking, but this crew has it going on. Most of the people in attendance are in rapt attention. A morphing crew of classical hipsters cranking out the 18th century jams. The one violin player had a unique style, playing it more like a guitar with his thumb sticking out, the notes bending and sliding more like a vocal solo than a staccato violin attack, coming out of his seat at those intense moments.
Two guys working the piano, which seems pretty well tuned for a cafe piano.
The girl next to me waiting for her boyfriend cello player to be finally done. She’s been here since 7:00.
All the Europeans! Never saw so many since I lived in Germany.
A great place to bring your mom on a Sunday night.
My minidisc conked out. Audio next week…Check ‘em out.
Sundays at 8:45, Revolution Cafe on 22nd @ Mission.
Posted by glen609 on May 17, 2009
“As God is my witness” guys can be such douche-bags. I met this lovely girl, Jessica, between bands
Jessica
and we were dancin’ and groovin’ when this guy behind me gives me a big shove right into her. I didn’t turn around right away because I was recording, but when the song ended I turned around and asked what his fucking problem was. Check out the altercation and the first half of the show right here:
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Now, the guy’s girlfriend who I was apparently crowding and who’s honor was seriously at stake must have given him an earful and he was fearful of his life because he apologized profusely, and I accepted it, but not before the damage was done. Jessica moved off during the aggression and I never saw her again. There are unintended consequences to your testosterone fueled doucheyness, guys. Cool it. Jessica, call me! I’m a pacifist and a lover, not a fighter.
Sean Hayes sings a lot of songs about birds and one about Dolores Guerrero so Dolores is an apt metaphor and a pretty good example of a bird. We found her a couple days ago in the park and she should be good to fly away any day now. She like to eat every 15 minutes so I’ve had to carry her around with me everywhere, to work, to the park, to the cafe on the corner for breakfast.
Dolores
I’ll take her to Bay to Breakers tomorrow in a syringe box because she still needs to be fed about every 15 minutes and I wouldn’t miss the best event of the year for anything, bird or otherwise.
After the relatively staid set by the Botticellis there was a bunch of talk about recently lost loves, real estate, and how age is just a number. That being said, there was a lull in the proceedings and her friend took over and gave me the douchebag downlow on the ex and something about One Rincon Center. How she had an estate etc. in the far East Bay.
Sean Hayes
Sean Hayes comes out and gets a very warm welcome. His acoustic guitar has a very aggressive rasp, a dirty circus show grit. His voice has a tender power and his band a solid restraint. I don’t know any of his songs, but apparently everyone else does because the backup vocals from the crowd are practically deafening. He’s got a loyal following based on some solid songwriting - about birds and earthquakes - and a danceable groove. There’s a weird interlude where he gets assistance from the crowd in a give and take that he’s going to use in a recording. It really wasn’t very fun, though it could have been. Hope it was worth it.
There was another altercation nearby and Jessica and her friend fled without saying goodbye. What is it with these guys? They’re scaring off all the ladies. Go outside and scream if you need to let off some steam. Do us all a favor. We’re trying to have some fun in this all inclusive best city in the World.
Tomorrow is the amazing Bay to Breakers. Leave your worries behind and show me some love.
Posted by glen609 on May 2, 2009
Please don’t talk to me, I’ve got microphones in my ears.
What?
Dummy head being used for binaural recording; the second microphone is obscured.
It makes perfect sense, grasshopper. If you want to capture in an audio recording exactly what you hear, then you need to put the microphones in your ears. But why?
Have you ever wondered how it is that you can discern whether a sound is in front of you or behind? You only have two ears so something is going on. Two evenly spaced microphones can only distinguish Right and Left because two points makes a line and that’s the definition of One Dimensional. Right and Left, for example. But stick those microphones in your ears and the magic happens.
I use these mics from Soundprofessionals.com. They’re great powered by one of their battery modules and a High MD minidisc recorder, going into the line in jack for loud shows. Perfection.
It turns out that the shape of your head and ears, pinnae in the parlance, play a not so surprising and important role in what your brain hears coming from your ears. There are very subtle temporal and phase shifts from the incoming sounds that your brain deciphers and translates into a fully Three Dimensional soundscape. That means you can tell that that annoying girl on her cellphone is actually behind you, or in front of you, or above you, if you’re lucky, below you.
And you can capitalize on those facts by sticking the microphones into your ears and playing back the resulting recording on headphones, making sure you have them on the right way or your poor brain might get things backwards, might think the band is actually behind you. It’s wierd, I know, but true.
Now, it’s unfortunate that the best listening experience comes from the person that did the recording because she has the identical pinnae and other’s heads might get confused, but there’s nothing I can do about you stupid pinnae. The recordings are still nice. Enjoy.
Wiki on this subject for more.
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Posted by glen609 on April 20, 2009
The Ferocious Few, 1st show ever, Dec 2005 at the Stork Club in Oakland, California. Francisco Fernandez (front), GT Lampshade (lead), Conner BoBonner (bass), Byorn Børg (drums).
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Posted by glen609 on
GT
GT is the idiot savant that fronts the three piece neo-arena rock band, Jackscrew.
Here’s some random solo bits.
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More recent…
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Posted by glen609 on
At the Warfield, 2005.
Binaural 3D Stereo Recording, please listen with heaphones (and make sure you have the Rt. one on the Rt. ear etc…or it will sound like it’s behind you). This techmology makes use of the ears and the shape of the head to impart 3 dimensionality due to temporal shift. The microphones, two omnis, are placed inside the ears. The recording hears what you hear. It’s brilliant. Check it out.
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