Since Entombed first hit the metal scene with its debut album, Left Hand Path, this Swedish five piece set the standard for death metal to come. Morning Star takes the best moments of the band’s Wolverine Blues period and adds a few rollicking affairs. From “I For an Eye” to the nihilistic “About to Die,” this album is amazingly groovy, yet displays an unrelenting death-metal vibe. Frontman L.G. Petrov can indeed sing, and he sounds quite convincing on such moments as “Fractures” and “When It Hits Home.” And while former Entombed skinsman/songwriter Nicke Anderrson may have written some epic songs in his time, as evidenced on this latest longplayer, guitarists Alex Hellid and Uffe Cederlund can more than hold their ground in that department. Fans of the Crown, Sodom, or German thrash metal should eat this up like slobbering dogs.
I’ve always enjoyed taking in multiple shows in one night. Maybe it’s my inborn need to claim a duplicitous identity. On this Wednesday night, I happened to catch Laurie Anderson, perhaps the world’s greatest solo performance artist, at UC Davis’ Freeborn Hall. However, it was the act that followed that piqued my interest and revived the other five senses.
Call Me Ishmael, Sacramento’s latest entry into neo-psychedelia, was playing at Harlow’s, on one of local Alive & Kicking publisher/promoter Jerry Perry’s Wednesday night local-music showcases. After only a couple of months of testing the waters, it would seem that both the reception and attendance have grown considerably.
Led by lanky frontman/guitarist Brian Valenzuela, the band launched into songs off its recently released CD, Listen. Keyboardist Andy Babcock, sporting a low-rider seat, nestled himself cozily at stage left and set the somnolent vibe that characterized my favorite part of the band’s sound. Drummer Robby Dowd set up sideways, close to what a standard Medeski, Martin and Wood stage diagram might look like, and Nate Webb held court with some steady but assertive basslines.
At times, keyboard/guitar breakdowns mirrored those of early Yes or Genesis, only to be disrupted by swinging rhythms that occasionally meandered off the beaten track. However, the band’s finest moments were those where it threw out traditional song arrangements and simply let whole keyboard notes and ambient guitar noises take over. Remnants of Daniel Lanois’ more ambient moments, coupled with Pink Floyd’s soundtrack years, crept through the main speakers. Although maybe a bit mature for a typical, beer-drinking Harlow’s crowd, Call Me Ishmael’s ideas were on the right path.
When the band did kick into gear, Brian’s voice sounded a lot like Frank Jordan’s Mike Visser, or perhaps a disenchanted Jeff Buckley. Call Me Ishmael’s overall sound is quite comparable to Frank Jordan and Pocket for Corduroy’s more introspective moments; it’s as poignant as it is compelling.
This introspective and innovative band is a breath of fresh air for the Sacramento scene and should be investigated further. These guys are still young—a good guess is that their median age is around 22 to 24. But I’ll bet that Call Me Ishmael will become a major force to reckon with by the end of this year.
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.“
Eddie
