You’ll have to ask MDSO what the acronym stands for. If lyric content is any indication, it probably has something to do with oral sex. But if there’s one band in Sacramento that could make Tipper Gore turn in her Saks Fifth Avenue pumps, it’s MDSO. Fronted by the spicy Kahlil Hedrick (ex-Funky Blue Velvet), this four-piece has been creating quite a stir in the punk community. Drummer Don Segur, bassist Joe Hedrick and guitarist Chris Koskela hold down some of the best grooves since the sadly defunct Spinach, Diseptikons and Biscuit. MDSO refuses to stay within any confines, fusing tribal Faith No More beats with galloping punk-rock rhythm à la early MDC, Dead Kennedys and Oakland crust-punk. Hedrick’s lyrics are absolutely hilarious; topics range from the wonders of the penis (“Shoot-out”) to such rear-entry odes as “Cackwhiff.” “Slutdick” features a cool Slayer/24-7 Spyz medley.
Maybe I’m a tad pessimistic when it comes to all-star bands, having seen too many of my childhood icons blow their collective wad in side projects that, unfortunately, never grew beyond their beginnings. After all, who wants to see a band that functions solely around their main band’s schedule? Once more, the term “all-star” has become increasingly subjective and, much like the big league equivalents in pro sporting events, become synonymous with failure.
However, the Eyes Adrift show at Harlow’s, featuring Nirvana bassist Krist Novoselic, along with guitarist Curt Kirkwood from the Meat Puppets and drummer Bud Gaugh from Sublime and Long Beach Dub Allstars, laid to rest any notions that this band is either a side project or all-star amalgam. Instead, it highlighted three musicians whose travels and subsequent tours have yielded musical and friendship bonds that are painfully apparent.
With an original set list that including such working titles as “Sleight of Hand,” “Inquiring Minds,” Untried” and “Telescope,” Eyes Adrift gave complementary nods to traditional country, rock, surf music and even blues. Kirkwood, long absent from the scene, assumed the majority of vocal duties, while Novoselic sang lead on two tracks and sang back-up vocals elsewhere. Novoselic and Kirkwood smiled adoringly throughout the evening, perhaps astonished that the group came to fruition.
It was damn near impossible to not be overwhelmed. After all, Novoselic did play bass alongside Kurt Cobain and Dave Grohl on one of the most important albums of the 20th century, Nevermind. I couldn’t help remembering his last performance in Sacramento, when Nirvana played the Crest Theater with Dinosaur Jr. and local act Kai Kln in 1991. Gaugh, whose tenure in punk/reggae legend Sublime was cut short by singer Brad Nowell’s death from a drug overdose in 1996, still managed to forge Sublime’s name into practically everyone’s subconscious with such hits as “What I Got.” And while it took MTV’s Unplugged sessions, with Cobain’s plugs, to tip off the larger world to Kirkwood’s distortion-laden Meat Puppets, the Arizona band was a huge influence in indie-rock circles well before Nirvana.
Eyes Adrift restored my faith that there still is music made for the soul, music made for the moment. Its appearance, one of a handful of dates the trio played, exuded all of the qualities of a good rock ’n’ roll show.
The band ended its set without an encore and proceeded directly to mingle with the audience and sign autographs. For a moment, you could even see a special glow cross their faces.
From the first Mercyful Fate album, falsetto frontman King Diamond grabbed the goat by the horns and exerted control over his bandmates. On his latest effort, he and his rotating band of metal gypsies—only guitarist Andy La Rocque remains from the original lineup—seem more focused than ever. Diamond continues his Abigail album concept, and the package features a family tree for his satanic minions to admire and gloat over. Abigail II: The Revenge tells the story of a broken household marred by the memory and presence of the stillborn Abigail La Fey; the imaginary La Fey dynasty makes for an interesting tale. Fans of King Diamond’s earlier albums—Them, The Portrait should headbang to the rapture made by the rhythm section of bassist Hal Patino and drummer Matt Thompson. And give any man credit who can weave evil tales without sounding like W.A.S.P.’s Blackie Lawless in a vacuum. KD rules.
Laurie Anderson’s ability to transcend genre classification has given her considerable credibility, with both the media and her fans. Anderson, unlike many “performance” artists, continually pushes the boundaries of contemporary music and pop culture. If you’ve never heard Anderson’s early works—Strange Angels, or Big Science—you may be in for a surprise. “Happiness” marks Anderson’s latest foray into the theatrical tour and is, essentially, her worldview coupled with a crash course in Sociology 101, a road stint to support her latest Nonesuch Records disc, Life on a String. Her show, 8 p.m. this Wednesday, February 6, at Freeborn Hall (on the UC Davis campus at Howard Way) is the perfect antidote for anyone continually searching for the next big thing. Anderson may not be that, but she does offer us at least one splendid night when we can go back to school. Tickets are $29 and $25 general; $14.50 and $12.50 for students.
This Agoura Hills four-piece is Island Records’ latest entry into the nu-metal sweepstakes. Hoobastank, the follow-up to the band’s self-released They Sure Don’t Make Basketball Shorts Like They Used To, is a worthwhile affair comparable to Incubus, Linkin Park—sans the power-growl workouts—and Papa Roach. It’s only fitting that the band chose two of the latter band’s producers to help navigate. Although still in their 20s, these boys show a remarkable sense of melody on tracks like “Remember Me,” “Pieces” and the standout track “Too Little Too Late.” Dan Robb is competent in most vocal registers, aided by the able rhythm section of Markku Lappalainen and Chris Hesse. Although not my particular cup of tea, if I spiked my hair and wore loose pants once again, Hoobastank’s logo just might make its way onto my speedway jacket. Hoobastank is destined to become one of the genre’s brightest stars.
Monday nights are usually synonymous with sleep deprivation, exhaustion and inertia. After all, it’s much too easy to succumb to another re-run of Cops or Jackass coupled with a handful of Mrs. Field’s Cookies. However, knowing that members of the defunct Hammerhead, once signed to Amphetamine Reptile Records, would be playing a mere eight blocks away was enough of an elixir to venture out into the cold Sacramento night.
One could have easily surmised that we were in for a deafening aural onslaught when Apollo Liftoff, guitarist and vocalist for Minneapolis’ duo Vaz, started selling “Vaz Buffos”—cheap earphones that act as merchandise and, you guessed it, ear protection, during the opening act’s set.
Unfortunately, I missed the openers but arrived in time to catch the noise-core mayhem of local support act New Maps Out of Hell, which won points immediately for band name alone. Singer Albert Carranza got the festivities started in grandiose fashion like a good ol’ Davis house party, screaming and writhing among the spectators on the floor in front of the stage. His voice, akin to Gibby Haynes circa Locust Abortion Technician or David Yow during the Jesus Lizard’s formative years, made me yearn for the ’80s burgeoning punk movement all over again. Bassist Corina Truax held down some terrific, plodding bass lines while drummer Mikel Gius pounded the hell out of his small trap kit.
Sara Kolp and Christopher McCay played dissimilar guitar lines and interweaved their own little world of chaos and confusion into the sometimes sloppy yet amazingly effectual songs that make up New Maps’ repertoire. During one number, McCay switched instruments with the singer and took over bass duties for Truax. The result was a haunting, discordant slab of distortion that echoed Sonic Youth, Hovercraft or even Isis. During the end of the set, the 50 or so in attendance were treated to a feedback mantra that, in good taste, closed New Maps’ awesome set.
To say that headliner Vaz was loud would be far too kind. Still, as ominous and foreboding as the members’ former band, the two-member collective barrelled through a hyper-speed set of sonic calisthenics. Drummer Jeff Mooridian Jr., aided by a garbage can/broken cymbal contraption, pulled off some tricky 16th-note shuffles and gave a solid foundation for Apollo Liftoff’s guitar/bass combo, which successfully fused a full-sized bass and guitar rig together to make one helluva monstrous sound.
The band’s latest album, Demonstrations In Micronesia, is available on the Providence, R.I.-based micro-indie Load label. If you’re a fan of Helmet, the Cows or the Melvins, you owe yourself this one. The band’s follow-up is due this summer.
You can catch New Maps Out of Hell again at the Capitol Garage on February 1 with Sleepytime Gorilla Museum and Hella, whose new album Hold Your Horse Is will be released in March.Scene & heard was reported by .
This Southern California quartet has been driven by a penchant for motorbikes, low-rider cars and Mary Jane since its inception on the same Bong Load label that released Beck’s early stuff. Its latest album explores territory inhabited by such peers as Kyuss, Spirit Caravan and Mondo Generator, with considerable effect. Fueled by a healthy dose of fuzz guitar and powerhouse drumming, tunes like “Squash That Fly” and “Downtown in Dogtown” rock as good as any Queens of the Stone Age track. Characteristically, Fu Manchu gives attention to such timely artifacts as the horrific Bultaco motorcycle and the once popular Mongoose, a BMX relic. California Country reeks of practice sessions swathed in excess of beer, pot and motorbike smoke. If you’re wondering why Black Sabbath made the wrong turn years ago, do yourself a favor and investigate their latest rocker. A must-have for head-shop enthusiasts.
The Baphomet-loving wrecking crew from Exodus: Goat’s head soup, anyone?
Live! At the Roadhouse, 1556 Bell Ave. (near Raley Boulevard, north of I-80) on Saturday, January 19, at 9:30 p.m., with Dominant Rage and Race Train Schizo, $12.50.
If you were a teenage metalhead circa 1985-1990, chances are you or your brother were into Exodus, the progenitors of thrash metal. Originally led by the fiery pipes of Paul Baloff, later replaced by Steve “Zetro” Souza, Exodus has now reformed, and is claiming its rightful place on the metal map. This Saturday night, Exodus makes the trek from its Bay Area home to play the Roadhouse in Del Paso Heights.
I was 16 when I got my first taste of Exodus. Bonded By Blood, originally released on Torrid/Combat Records, depicted two vampiric nubiles joined at the back on the cover, apparently upset about their unfortunate birthright; it contained perhaps the most ferocious form of music I’d ever heard. Exodus, along with death metal’s finest band ever, Possessed, hosted a heavy metal soirée at the Petaluma Veterans Hall that is considered by many metalheads to be one of the greatest bills of all time. At the time, Baloff and guitarists Gary Holt and Rick Hunolt, drummer Tom Hunting and bassist Rob McKillop made up the band.
Fifteen years later, Holt, who wrote the bulk of Exodus’ material, can still recall the glory days of one of the Bay Area’s greatest bands ever, alongside such company as Metallica—that group’s Kirk Hammett originally played with Exodus—Death Angel, Vio-Lence, Forbidden and more. Except for its bass player—McKillop has been replaced by Jack Gibson—Exodus now features all original members.
During its heyday, Exodus co-headlined tours with Anthrax, supported Black Sabbath during its Ronnie James Dio-fronted era, and even landed a European and U.S. tour with fellow necrophiliac ensembles Slayer and Venom. “That was the best tour of all of ’em,” Holt muses. “There was also a great Headbanger’s Ball tour with Helloween [the German power metal group] and Anthrax that was pretty cool.”
Baloff, the band’s original vocalist, only sang on Exodus’ first album, subsequent albums with Steve “Zetro” Souza were much larger commercial successes. However, Baloff returning to the helm marks a return to the real Exodus sound. “He’s like a Jim Jones handing out the Kool-Aid,” remarks Holt, referring to the 5-foot-4-inch singer who maniacally rules the stage like a crazed, homicidal maniac.
Exodus has been active around the Bay Area—there was a lengthy hiatus after a pseudo-reunion—since its inclusion on the now infamous “Thrash of the Titans” cancer-awareness concert, a benefit for the ailing frontman of Testament, Chuck Billy, and Death’s Chuck Schuldiner, who has since passed away. The band has been selling out every Bay Area show just like the old days, but is playing such considerably smaller 200-300 capacity rooms.
“I like playing smaller venues, ‘cause it’s really awful and sweaty,” says Holt, now a single father of two children. “Furthermore, we can’t afford to tour, since we don’t have tour support.” Which is to say that Exodus currently is without a major label whose bankroll will cover such road expenses as hotel, buses, hookers, tramps and miscellaneous acts of debauchery.
With a pending package tour in the works dubbed “The Bay Area Invasion,” which will feature buddies Death Angel, Forbidden and Vio-Lence, it would seem Exodus’ prospects are looking up. For the moment, Holt remains at ease working his 9-to-5 day job, opting to take care of his children and lead a stress-free life. He and the rest of Exodus can find solace knowing there are still a bunch of us who recognize their enormous contribution to metal. In the immortal words of Baloff: “Turn to look at Baphomet from below and not above / Welcome to my sacrifice / Tonight there’ll be no love.“
I’ve always hated pop-culture movies, which usually are preceded by a soundtrack of mediocre major-label alternative trash—acts that haven’t broken, nor ever will, always turn up in droves on these compilations. Orange County, on the other hand, is an exception. From Social Distortion to Cake, Pete Yorn to Creeper Lagoon, the disc succeeds in making a well-rounded, diverse accompaniment to perhaps the stupidest movie ever. If you can forget that Colin Hanks and Jack Black exist, you’ll find great aural pleasure with lesser-known acts like 12 Rods (“Glad That It’s Over”) or Phantom Planet (“California”). There are, however, a few stinkers—the Offspring’s tepid “Defy You”; the aptly named Bad Ronald’s “1st Time.” Not everyone can be perfect, but give someone credit for leaving off Fred Durst. (The first pressing includes a bonus CD of new Sony acts that can either be used as a coaster or a Frisbee.)
Not one to rest on his laurels, Deftones frontman Chino Moreno recently completed a West Coast tour with his side project, Team Sleep. The band’s pre-Christmas show at the newly renovated Colonial Theatre in Oak Park featured a delightful set of original material that was new to most everyone there. This night, the last show of the tour, afforded the band considerable room to stretch out on a number of drowsy, slumbering melodies, some of which may find their way onto Team Sleep’s debut sometime in the spring, on the Deftones’ major-label distributed imprint.
The in crowd was in full effect as members of such crucial Northern California bands as onelinedrawing, Will Haven, ent and Pocket for Corduroy were in attendance. From the opening band—a reunited Phallucy featuring Deftones drummer Abe Cunningham with two former bandmates, bassist Sonny Mayugba and guitarist Dave Garcia, both now in Daycare—it was apparent we were in for a welcome return to the early ’90s.
Even with its methodical, dense soundscapes, Team Sleep created a trenchant backdrop that was easily discernible and alarmingly audible. For nu-metal fans, some of the material was hard to digest, and those expecting a mosh pit or stage-diving soundtrack were in for a real shocker. Team Sleep stuck to its sound throughout the set sans a few, relatively minor tempo changes.
After only a handful of live shows—the first appearances ever by guitarist Todd Wilkinson—Team Sleep appeared comfortable and confident, nestling themselves safely within the confines of the Colonial Theater. Zach Hill, drummer for Hella and onetime drummer for Crime in Choir, aided by the solid anchor of Tinfed bassist Rick Vetterli, was able to foment the audience into a relative stupor. Hill’s uptempo beats, mated to the brooding rhythms of guitarists Moreno and Wilkinson, made for an interesting melange of sounds bordering on ambient. DJ Crook, who had worked with the ’Tones, further contributed to the unbounded wall of noise.
“King Diamond” (named after the Danish satan-metal band Mercyful Fate’s frontman), “Koolade,” “Solid Gold” and “Natalie Portman” were just a few of the band’s confusing song titles, which had very little to do with their content. The material was reminiscent of Deftones’ more introspective moments and hinted further at Moreno’s fixation with electronic, downtempo and indie art rock. Moreno and company rocked, or perhaps lulled, the capacity crowd, disintegrating notions that the project was merely a hastily thrown-together offshoot.
Although Deftones may be Moreno’s first love, his fervor for Team Sleep could not be ignored. Without sounding contrived or ill conceived, he and his bandmates did the unimaginable: created another Sacramento-bred major-label heavyweight. His first public outing with Team Sleep was triumphant, and offered him yet another creative outlet. Come April, the rest of the nation should awaken from their slumber.Scene & heard was reported by .
Eddie
