Posted by glen609 on August 5, 2009
Whoa!
Too much shit is going on and all I want to do is rock!
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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.
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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?
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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.”
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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.
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 June 9, 2009
The following review demonstrates all the pitfalls of blogging straight out of one’s personal journal, but it is what it is…maybe I’ll be more discreet, next time.
“I was hanging out at Tartine, admiring all the pretty girls when I get a call from Fran who is
Christin out in the patio
heading over to SubMission to set-up and so I wander over, say Hi to Chris and Kimi but the boys had already dropped off their stuff and I make my way to Beauty Bar and then Benders looking for them and I have a beer at Benders and watch the end of the Lakers game with the Magic, and they are good, and win in dramatic fashion thanks Kobe, and Fran calls me to tell me to grab the amp he’d left there downstairs and the guy behind the bar gives me a hard time and an attitude for leaving an amp here until I tell him I was just picking it up for my idiot friend and then he is really cool and just lets me grab it without any more stupid questions or remarks.
Watched the end of the game and ran the amp over to the place and helped them with their sound which was key, and they actually sounded good except there was nothing to be done about the crappy Yamaha monitor() but what the hell? Talked to Kimi and waited it out and I was getting texts from Emma and Christine and I had the word out to some my girls but it was monochromeblue Chistin who showed up, tasting like salt from the ocean, I think she really wanted me to taste her, which I did, and then we took a series of amazing pictures of the guys until she had to leave and didn’t even stay for their set because she’s such a morning person. Hmm.. It was nice to see her and she was really quite 
attractive and not nearly as whacked out as I remembered and she gave me a hard time for not being over my ex and how there was a third way, she said, just be patient with someone and it might happen naturally. Wow, I had to think about that and she knew she’d told me something really obvious but clearly not in my bailiwick and when she went she stood there and wanted me to kiss her and all I do is lick her neck again and say goodbye.
Francisco played, some drag queens did lip-sink, there was a really cool Sitar player that came out naked with her nipples on fire, Alexis with whom I talked later and she said she really wanted to get in touch with me about something so I gave her my card, and she had an amazing body which I could see all of and I really wish I’d taken more pictures because she was so cool it was damn near perfect and her little nymphs were funny riding around on in-line skates and capes as she played and she had an amazing attitude which came out later in some great photos.
Chris and Kimi played in their new joint, We are of Atlantis, and they rocked the 60s jams like Airplane and Janis. Kimi Recor, also of Lilofee, can belt it out, but I’ve heard her voice on more fragile material and prefer it. She’s got a lot of smoke and mirrors in those lungs and she should use ‘em.
Daniel of The Ferocious Few out back
Afterparty at Beauty Bar where Kimi played awesome 60 70s funk hits and it was a true blast. I took one of the best pictures I’ve ever taken, of Chris sitting at the bar looking badass. Francisco stole the girl I had my eye on, a tall brunette that stuck to him like fly on shit and that was that. He had no place to go because KT had one more night to go before she leaves for the Isle of Man. He was standing around looking forlorn and love (couch) starved.
I walked up Cumberland street and I was mad at the ex for not calling me or texting to confirm anything about today. I considered texting her a nasty thing about being nice, or something sarcastic, but when I saw her car parked in front of her house I couldn’t do anything but mope and pine and pick a red rose for the windshield wiper.
She thanked me for it first thing in the morning and she apologized for not calling. Fran said something really stupid too, but he apologized. It really goes a long way. We’re all dooshes, and it’s good to recognize that once in awhile, because we’re all awesome too…yet imperfect and working on it. Like these cool folks…”
Daniel and Francisco
Jesus of The Ferocious Few
Faction
F.Few
F.Few
That girl in the green dress
Alexes
We Are Of Atlantis, Kimi and Chris
Benefit for Junteenth Parade in Galveston
Alexes
Chris Vick of We are of Atlantis
Beauty Bar after party, kimi on deck
Kimi and F.F.
Home sweet home!
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 28, 2009
So I put some finishing touches on a new song, put on my super skinny new Levis and my black shirt and jacket
Club Shutter
with a Jackscrew on the back and found him hanging around outside the Elbo Room scaring off a couple girls who’s names he got mixed up. He was really excited about his new record deal and was totally undaunted. The tall blond moved off in her stilettos and black eye makeup.
We moved over to some new girls, who were a little busy with their long cigarettes and some guys of their own and I just wanted a drink so I went inside and ordered a Laphroig . My other buddy, the drummer who also signed today got a Dark and Stormy and we sat at the bar and talked about recording techniques. Gothic characters surrounded us and looked bored and contemptible. They were having a neutral good time with nary a frown or a smile. Tears were painted on the pretty girl’s faces. Strains of Joy Division were wafting down the stairs from the club.
We exhausted the technical convo and went upstairs to a different scene all-together. It was difficult to see anything in that dark room full of darkly dressed living zombies. Seriously beautiful and disturbed people everywhere. They were slightly moving around to the music, in pairs, which seemed a little strange - and nice - and it made it a little easier not to bump into someone.
The music was all dark 80s Baritones like Joy Division, Sisters of Mercy and Bauhaus singing about death, as if they knew what they were talking about. The whole Factory Records catalogue is represented and more. There were a few striking blonds to change things up from all the black bangs and corsets. It seemed like a clique, like a strange high school inTransylvania.
I just stood there with my Scotch and listened to the great sound system and the great, dusty old tunes. It brought me back to my high school when KROQ in LA was still valiantly playing the edgy new stuff.
Here is what they say on their Myspace page, “A monthly social club for the dark and dark at heart that meets on the last Wednesday of the month. We like to drink and dance and we like to wear lots of black in a fashionable manner.” True dat.
I drunk dialled my ex and walked back up the lonely hill.
Pretty nice night if you handle the locals only kind of vibe, or if you can get past all the heartbreaking defenses and break into it.
Club Shutter turns 5 in late June. Look for an anniversary party.
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 16, 2009
Thee Oh Sees, Shannon & the Clams, Sonny & the Sunsets, The Mystery Lights
The baby bird we found in Dolores park was fed and put to bed, I’d had a couple of Finlaggens (a very good buy in Islay single malt Scotch at Trader Joes), there wasn’t anything automatic to do any more with the gf gone, I still had a hangover 
from Monte Carlo night at City Hall the night before and I’d been hearing about Thee Oh Sees for a couple of weeks now. Anybody that I trusted was giving them the thumbs up and they were playing at Amnesia which is just down the street and an easy stumble home. The hill is a little daunting but it’s good exercise to start the process of burning it off.
I got dropped off in Theo the Geo, after honking at all the guys in the Castro and almost dying blazing down 18th ignoring all local traffic laws - I guess this is legal somewhere in the World - and walked by the place looking for a taco or two. Is that Patty Smith singing Gloria? Sure sounds like her, pretty impressive in fact, but it’s Gloria and I don’t think I can hear those six letters just one more time, plus I have a mean hunger and I need to soak up some of that Scotch, before I add some more.
There are no taquerias on Valencia between 18th and 20th. Take a note. Sounds like a good business plan, because I couldn’t see myself going into the bogus Burger Joint, I don’t care how hungry.
Fuggit. Maybe I just need a beer.
Out of cash, I snuck around the line and went straight to the ATM. Dude, I’m sorry. I go to enough of these shows and support a lot of local music. Some day I’ll be able to write it all off, but in the meantime getting a beer is more important that appeasing the doorman, and my guilt.
The Patty Smith band was still on, sans Patty, and one of the guitar players was taking over at the mic. I think they were the Mystery Lights, a very capable, high energy band of four, I think, all of which looked way too young to drink, or drive a car. They probably took the bus to get here and they were pretty awesome. They have a ways to go in the professionalism department, but they’ll get there and will surely impress. Most of the deficiencies, to be quite honest, come from the sound guys who almost invariably adds too much echo to the vocals. Guys, why add any? These tiny places have enough built in echo as it is.
And it turns out I was seated right next to an old friend at the bar. It’s nice to see old friends especially ones that are still so nice, and lovely and have every right to blow you off if they want because they’re there with their boyfriends. We talked about birds, and bands. Thee Oh Sees were her favorite. I told her about Entrance. Once, I accidentally flicked a cigarette butt at a pigeon right in front of her. Apparently, pigeons are her favorite bird because everyone else hates ‘em. She’s made whole art exhibitions based on pigeons. To her I was just another pigeon hater. I told her about Dolores. Not a pigeon, but a beautiful bird nonetheless. I actually love all birds, tiny dinosaurs, but not everybody knows that.
Ran into another friend, Conner, bass player from an old band of mine. He’s still in lots of different projects and he was talking to the bartender, who I had an eye on. I always have an eye on the bartender. What’s up with that? Is it something like mother’s milk? Ew, that’s kinda gross, sorry. We played in this band right here, The Ferocious Few, who are still together and starting to make some noise, but as a two piece because Francisco couldn’t handle all the noise and not having complete control. Typica Diva. Dammit if the music suffers.
Next up, Sonny and the Sunsets. I didn’t have to keep the toilet paper in my ears for these guys because they were relatively benign. Which is another way of saying that people were visibly bored after about fifteen minutes. The singer was workmanlike, but uninspired. What saved them, almost, were the brilliant guitar and bass tones. Some kind of acoustic blues guitar with a magnetic pickup (thank god, I hate those built in piezos) and the bass was something on the acoustic side of things too. Had a nice twang. Sometimes that’s enough. Add some more impressive vocals and you might have something there.
Shannon, of Shannon and the clams, was sick and she was afraid of puking on her apron. She still had the lungs, though, and the sixties crazy vibe, but again the fucked up echo on the vocals. Sometimes you only need to hear a word once. You don’t need to hear it echoed ten times, no matter how good it is. Add the guitarists echo and you have cacophony. Still, the last two songs were quite brilliant. I wish I had a notepad to jot down the names. Shannon’s got pipes. I’d like to hear her when she’s well.
I don’t have a huge anticipation of greatness when Thee Oh Sees take the stage, but it’s size-able enough and they’ll have to impress only slightly to get on my good side. It starts out fair enough, a bit more simply than I was prepared for, there wasn’t a bass, which I missed at first until the second guitar guy held down a lot of the low end because main guy, John Dwyer (?) was wrangling a highly played, highly timbered 12 string, but then the energy took over, driven in the main by the amazing drummer. Listen to that! It’s the drummer. Has anyone noticed that? It’s always someone. Sometimes the drummer is solid and workmanlike. Sometimes the Bass player just gets it done. Sometimes nobody steps it up. Thee Oh Sees all shine, but it’s the drummer, man, that kicks ‘em into gear. And he makes everyone else better. Dwyer gets into that infectious groove and runs with it. Everyone else runs with it too, including the entire front half of the room who are the biggest mosh scene I’ve ever seen at such an unlikely, almost folksy, event. It’s practically Apalachian, though there will be some dissent about that for sure, and everybody is dancing as if it’s a Black Flag concert, albeit a little more courteous. Good times. Good music. That’s what it’s all about.
I looked around after the short encore for my friends or for any new ones, but they’d all gone. The tall blonde I kept getting pushed into gave me a funny look, down her nose. The bartender ignored me. People were paring off and I was sheepishly alone, but feeling good. Music has the power to heal, is the apt cliche. I was pretty much healed.
I walked by her house just to compare it with last week and to measure the extent of that healing. I hoped she was having a good time wherever she was. I hoped she had at least as good a time as I had tonight. Still, the lights were off, I hoped that she was alone, and fast asleep. God only knows (God being a Pantheistic everything, not to be confused with any other God, thank you very much.)
P.S. There’s a great poem in the current New Yorker about love and everything and Spring and birds. Apt to music just as much as anything, btw. Cheers and good listening. Have a great spring.
