Roger Corman = that special time of year

Saw this deliciously fantastic film I somehow missed over the years. I grew up watching creature double feature on saturday mornings as a kid. Afterwards they'd often have a good vincent price flick on like pit and the pendulum. I thought I had seen every Corman film in the book, until this weekend.
"The Terror" (1963) stars good ole' Jack Nicholson and Boris Karloff (toward the end of his life). This flic has every visual in the book of vintage goth flicks you can think of. Little graveyards with fog, a pointy castle secret passageways and crypts, decaying bodies, possession, ravens, and Karloff himself. The opening credits have this great hand-painted montage of a dungeon scene. Corman, Coppola, and Nicholson all take turns directing. Way up there on the Richter scale as far as halloween flicks go.

---

Lasts nights show with Patrick Hayden at Sam Bonds was rather cathartic. We played second and while it was a little tough getting the drums and amps to peacefully coexist with patty's acoustic, we played remarkably smooth. Drummer Rob had only a handful of pracs in before the gig and if you know Patrick's music, that can be awfully daunting with all the subtle hairpins in there. The record still needs a proper release. Parson Redheads rounded off the night.

girls rock yer boys ...

been a busy boy in music land lately.

Caught Pierced arrows at Wandering goat a few nights ago. This is essentially the new deadmoon. For an old couple in their late 50's early 60's ... they can dole out some lethal auditory punishment. They were so fun to watch and I can only hope i'm rocking half as hard as they do when i'm that old.


And the punk rawk don't stop. Caught the mighty The Underlings at sam bonds. Ed's band is in top notch form and I can't wait for their first album to hit the shores. They're having me do the art so I guess a band meeting is in order soon. My apologies for the noisy recording.




Last night one of my employers turned 60 a we surprised the hell out of him with a surprise party at skateworld. I pounded one of those twitchy rockstar drinks and skated with a 3-piece suit and my creepy bunnymask for a couple hours.

Then headed to Portland w/ p hayden and new local drum henchman Rob Smith for one of the most amazing scitzo shows I've ever whitnessed. Thurston Moore at the dougfir. Openers Scorces were comprised of Christina Carter (Charalambides) and scottish musician Heather Murray. It was quite the improv noise set and I had a stomach for about 25% of it. My official review ... "floating down the Ganges River while simultaniously getting papercuts and a BJ." It was nuts.
Then Thurston proceeded to make everyone see god. In support of his first full length in a decade trees outside the academy, I was giddy like a schoolgirl waiting to be hit with a wall of sound. The sonic lord was joined on stage by a slew of heavy hitters including SY drummer Steve Shelly, chris brokaw (come, codine), samara lubelski on violin, and Matt Heyner on bass. The first set was pretty much all the gems from the new album plays on acoustic guitars (although to call it an acoustic set would be quite the stretch). If you stuck coal up their asses, you'd get a handful of diamonds. They were so damn tight. Brokaw looked so relaxed up there pulling off magic dischordal licks fitting right in. Then they return for a whole second set of electric stuff from Psychic Hearts. I went into some kinda cerebral coma for "Queen Bee and Her Pals". It was just so damn good. I think I still feel a little flush. The drive home went by like a snap with all those hooks still in my head.

at the show I had a fantastic conversation about recording with a friend. He proceeded to dose me with some razorsharp honesty about the music I make in a way that really got me thinking about the nature of recording in general and why we do it. I wish I had more fucking time to woodshed and make art. Someday is coming. "someday is NOW" my mom says.

3 paintings by ...

dan krall

A Ass Pocket of Woopass

"I didn't mean to kill nobody! I just meant to shoot the sonofabitch in the head. Him dying was between him and the Lord."
-RL Burnside

Been seeing lots of little indie films pop up about the distinction between mississippi blues and rural northern hill country Mississippi blues. On of my hero's R.L. is a center piece. He was just so amazing to watch. The dude certainly had reason to sing the blues as his father, brother, and uncle were all murdered in chicago. One film floating around out there is "You See Me Laughin'".

I love the "weelllllll ... well well's" at the end of every song he plays. Thats his adopted son Kenny on guitar and his grandson Ced on drums.



my other new vice is a band called "BLACK MOTH SUPER RAINBOW"

Their last album dandilyon gum has all the tape-warbliness and vocoder action of a "boards of canada" album but the psych factor is through the roof. Driving party drums. vintage synth deliciousness. Totally harnessed nostalgia. They have songs like: Lollipopsichord; Neon Syrup For The Cemetery Sisters; Spinning Cotton Candy In A Shack Made Of Shingles; Lost, Picking Flowers In The Woods.
They play the wowhall on the 30th of Oct with Aesop Rawk.

nocturnal emmisions

• Usually when I tell people about a dream I had, it has something to do with bunnies, or weird monsters, or some kind of creepy weirdness. Most guys dream of sex and violence and mine are no exception, except that they're all colored a bit more lowbrow with a touch of psychedelia.
The other night however I had the most incredibly vivid dream that I though I'd write about. I was cleaning out an uncles house going through old stuff. The house was very 70's with yellow carpet and wood-paneling with a heaping portion of kitsch ... coo-coo clocks on the walls and lots of cute figurines everywhere. It smelled like cigarettes too. (mind you I have no uncle that fits this description. This is my mind in overdrive) So as I'm going through his stuff, I come across this amazing "photo". The image is of this old jazz singer from I'd guess the 20's. She's black and has on this long white lace dress. The thing about the photo is that it is this elaborate piece of origami that folds out like a flower and the folds resemble some kind of art deco structure. The outer edges are black and embossed. As I open and close the photo, I realize that it is also playing her music. It sounds like an old 45 with all the crackles.

I wake up really sad and wish I could keep the photo. Her music is still in my head.

LP battles : round 11

Afterburner!

vs.
Third Stage!

a very special cake-let

gawking and rawking

There is a special voyeuristic place in my heart that loves following trashy hollywood. No I don't need to know all the sorted details of who was seen on what beach with who and which desperate housewife has a grainy sex-tape, but damn if I don't chuckle when Dave Letterman makes Paris shed a few tears when she's on his show.
Anyway ... our once bubblegum friend Britney was the subject of over 50 pieces of art at some LA gallery over the weekend. There was a 6x10 ft. "Gum Blond XLVIII" by Jason Kronenwald, made of chewed bubble gum. I love that kinda stuff.

----------behold a subject change-----------

Saturday I played with the mighty Tractor Operator for his CD release in PDX. James on skins and me on Bari and Eric on slaying guitar. The Tonic Lounge is a good spot for that kinda mayhem. Before that Rob Jones and Mel had a fantastic party to celebrate their knot tie.

I'm excited to start more home recording with my new gear upgrade. Now I just need to figure out how to make my garage "man room" warmer in the winter. Tom would say it's "colder than a well diggers ass." I'd have to agree.