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 .
Athough they never gained the popularity of countrymen Sepultura, Ratos de Porão garnered much respect from their peers, not to mention a legion of U.S. punks. After a brief run on RC Records, the move to Jello Biafra’s incestuous but always intrepid label would only seem proper. On this Brazilian band’s latest eight-song disc, those punk roots materialize to make up this foetid compilation of sloppy metal and boundary-pushing punk rock. Like a bad case of halitosis, Ratos dish out their own versions of such disparate artists as Jello Biafra, Half Japanese and Sepultura, leaving their trademark foul taste. Even the cover art, stolen from www.rotten.com, features a cannibal devouring a seemingly decomposed human calf. In addition, the band sings in its native Portuguese on a few of the more confrontational tracks—“Toma Trouxa” and “Obesidade Morbida Constitucional,” my favorite of the lot.
Self-assured ex-local glam singer Jacob Golden, who moved to England, plans on re-conquering America
Jacob Golden, who knows where to shop for interesting shoes.
Live! All-ages matinee at Old Ironsides, 1901 S St., Sunday, Jan. 6 at 4 p.m. $7, with Jonah Matranga, Dana Gumbiner and Elin Lord.
Expatriate Sacramento singer Jacob Golden has been living the charmed life in a London flat—on his record label’s dime. The reason he’s been residing in the U.K. for the past year is that he’s been writing and recording material for a new album, Hallelujah World, his first full-length disc as a solo artist, which will be released this coming summer. More importantly, it’s his first worldwide release for England’s Rough Trade Records.
For anyone not familiar with the Valley’s “Golden boy,” the lad made quite a name for himself fronting Birthday, a now-defunct band that got signed to Warner Music U.K.’s Blanco y Negro label. After a brief U.K. tour and a shelved debut disc with that band, Golden opted to continue with the musician’s life, carrying on with the lullaby pop that characterized Birthday’s dense sound. And now Golden returns, albeit briefly, with a new outlook on recording, music, life and all things associated with the United Kingdom.
“London has an amazing music scene,” Golden says. “It really keeps you on your toes, ‘cause there’s so many good artists. I react well to that sort of environment. I always dreamed of traveling the world and making music. I also think to do something extraordinary you have to take chances.
“Leaving a comfortable [and] familiar environment can really be good for kicking you in the butt and realizing your dreams,” he adds. “As a solo artist, it seemed to make more sense.”
Golden is enthused about his progress overseas, which seems to be moving forward exponentially. “I haven’t played with a band since Birthday broke up a year ago,” he says. “It’s been really good for me. It does wonders for your confidence when it’s all on you although it can be very frightening. I think I’m finally ready to put a new band together in the U.K. I want to first focus on the U.K. and Europe, and then make my way back to the U.S.
“I’ve had some wonderful experiences playing abroad, an exuberant Golden adds. “Supporting Low [the Duluth slo-core giants that record for the Chicago-based boutique label Kranky] at the Union Chapel was amazing. It’s this old church in the center of London. At another show, we [Birthday] sampled a bit of Amsterdam’s local grass before we went onstage, not realizing how strong it was, and our first song”—normally three minutes long—”turned into a 12-minute opus.”
Rough Trade Records, the U.K.-based label that’s home to the Strokes, the Moldy Peaches, the Smiths catalog and Mazzy Star’s Hope Sandoval, signed Golden in the wake of Birthday’s demise and quietly released an EP by him. After a successful hookup with Sanctuary Records, the domestic company that signed local hard-rock quintet Tesla, Rough Trade will now release its titles in the states, thus eliminating pricey imports—Golden’s six-song EP goes for over $20 at retail here.
“The new album will be titled Hallelujah World, ‘cause that’s how I want to live—in a state of joy,” Golden says. “I’m also working with Faultline, a producer and collaborator of mine. His new album is very beautiful and features me as well as Chris [Martin] from Coldplay and Wayne [Coyne] from the Flaming Lips. I should be doing some amazing shows next year—I’d love to play the big festivals in Europe, and it’s very likely I will.”
Self-assured? Certainly. After all, what kind of guy would name his former band Birthday—if he wasn’t planning on doing a little celebrating on his own?
The prospect of going out on a cold, Sunday night, as opposed to holding court on the trusty sofa, didn’t sound attractive. The idea of hanging out at a bar with a bunch of avid Santana and Journey fans, furthermore, placed the appearance of Gregg Rolie at the Roadhouse high on my list of things not to do.
However, after a bit of careful coercion—make that incessant plodding—from a neighbor, I ventured out to Raley Boulevard and Bell Avenue in Del Paso Heights, home of hard-rock nightclub the Roadhouse, which has been giving Orangevale’s Boardwalk a run for its money lately. Recent bands that have appeared at the Roadhouse include Faster Pussycat, LA Guns, Ratt, UFO’s Michael Schenker and the annual reunion of Y&T.
The parking lot was, surprisingly, packed. Who would have expected that Rolie, an ex-member of Santana and founding member of Journey, would be much of a draw in Sacramento—a town where even Metallica can’t sell out its Arco Arena date in advance?
Around 8:30 p.m., Rolie and company took the stage in front of a capacity crowd of around 200, rocking the house with a set of originals, a few Santana staples and even a Journey classic, “Just the Same Way.” The latter featured guitarist Dave Amato, from the current lineup of REO Speedwagon, doubling as Journey’s Neal Schon and Steve Perry—a task that he handled surprisingly well.
Rolie was touring to support Roots, his recent album on 33rd Street, the Tower Records-owned label; it was the final night of a six-date West Coast swing. According to the band’s soundman, these were merely “test shows,” the precursor to an opening slot on a major shed tour coming sometime in 2002. From the spicy opener “Going Home” to the immensely popular “Oye Como Va,” the band played a spirited set of blues, Latin rock and world beat.
The guys in Rolie’s band were no slouches, either. Alphonso Johnson held court on bass and played alarmingly well with drummer Ron Wikso. Tom Gimbell played both keys and saxophone, while percussionists Adrian Ares and Michael Carabello served up the definitive Santana sound with relative ease. On such tracks as “No One to Depend On” and “Black Magic Woman,” it was apparent that rock royalty was in the house. Even Rolie’s tracks from Roots—“Love Is Everything” and “Con Todo Mi Corazon”—easily could’ve been included on an early Santana release.
Rolie’s tenure in two of classic rock’s biggest bands was not by mistake. His vocal and keyboard talents, as evidenced by the night’s performance, remain in fine form. Once more, his backing band knows how to serve up a healthy platter of whupass. If “Jingo” or the instrumental dabbling on “Domingo” didn’t set the people inside the club on a musical journey, then at the very least we were given an experience—the kind that people talk about for years to come.
Gregg Rolie will be back. More importantly, he never left.Scene & heard was reported by .
Eddie
