Toilet Joe

At an office job I had a few years ago there was a guy named Joe who would creep everyone out.

It was widely known that he looked a porn on his computer, and liked to read in the bathroom. He was sweaty and overweight, with a bright red pimply face. He wore clothes that were probably okay on him about 50 pounds ago but now clung to him like cheese on doritoes. He drank a 2-liter bottle of Mountain Dew everyday, straight out of the bottle, lukewarm. He called me "dude".

The porn was one thing; he'd "hide" the images he was looking at on screen if he heard you walking down the hall and spin around in his chair and say something in a quick, nervous tone like "HeyDudeHowsItGoing."

One of the women in our office used to subscribe to Entertainment Weekly. Joe would ask to borrow it from time-to-time, she'd reluctantly say yes, and he'd head to the bathroom and read. He'd be in the bathroom for maybe a half-hour. When he was done, he'd bring it back. She would hold her hand up and say "uh... just keep it, Joe" with a look on her face like she was going to puke. This happened a few times. When he finally got the message, he started bringing manilla folders from his desk, files and things to the bathroom. After a few months of this our small office started gossiping about this weird behavior. It became a weird joke, a creepy annoyance that everyone hated but noone really wanted to stop, because it was just so odd. Once someone saw him bring a small calculator and pencils into the bathroom along with his files. Then there was his cell phone. The woman who's office was closest could hear him talking sometimes, and would hear the cell phone ringing. The bathroom visits became longer and longer. The woman who had the Entertainment Weekly subscription started timing him and writing the times down on a piece of paper next to her computer. Mostly these visits would take about 20 minutes, but on occasion he'd be in the bathroom for almost an hour.

One day he came out of the bathroom with a bundle of files and papers under his arms, a calculator, and a pencil behind his ear. He walked about 20 feet down the hall and then tripped face-down on the office carpet, spilling papers, calculator, and pencils all over the floor. People jumped up from their offices and looked out their doors, asking if he was allright.

"No, no, I'm okay.. thanks..." he was crawling and grabbing at his papers, dragging his legs across the floor in a weird wounded animal kind of way.

"My legs fell asleap. Ow. Hah. Hahaha." He said.

"Oh my God that's disgusting." the Entertainment Weekly woman said, turned around into her office and closed the door. Those remaining looked at each other, shrugged, and went back to thier offices, leaving Joe to shakily scramble his things together.

Electrocution at 60 feet in the Superdome

August 2nd, 1992. I remember that because it was my girlfriend's birthday and I was 1500 miles away in New Orleans, and was as tired as I'd been in 10 years.

We were hired to provide light and sound for an enormous christian youth gathering. It was a 2-week show that was held every three years in different cities all around the country. It was a christian convention for teens, with songs, plays, and christian rock bands playing to the 20,000 christian kids that attended the gathering.

Normally a gig like this wouldn't have been so bad; two semis full of lighting and sound, the light grid wasn't TOO complex and the stagehands were better than most... but we had back-to-back gigs and festivals the two months prior, and at least two festivals after it, so all of us (well, most...) were really tired to begin with.

We left Albuquerque after packing all the equipment in a rented truck, the other truck was at another gig and would meet us there. We had to go through Tulsa, Oklahoma to pick up some other lighting gear (a few trusses, dimmers, and socapex cables). As we passed Santa Rosa NM we blew a radiator hose. It was mid-day and summer, so it wasn't too bad, but Larry had to hitchhike back to Santa Rosa to call a wrecker service. This whole ordeal took about 8 hours out of our travel time, so we didn't get into Tulsa until 5am. We had to pick up the gear at 8am and then drive really fast to New Orleans for an evening load-in. We finally made it down to New Orleans about an hour later than our original load-in time, which wasn't so bad. But boy were we tired.

Load-in began at a frenzied pace to make up for the hour or so that we had lost. We even worked through crew breaks to try to get everything done on time. The grid was up by 2pm, and focus began around 3 I think. I was pretty tired. The grid we flew was up about 6o feet, hanging from a much larger, semi-permanent metal grid about 100 feet up. The Superdome is 260 feet high in the center (or so one of the stagehands told us), so it's an impressive sight to see. On one of the side trusses that jutted out beyond the stage area we had about 6 elipsoidals (theater lights) suspended from 6 pieces of 10-foot long, 1 foot box truss, which made these 30 foot trusses suspended out above and beyond the stage, 60 feet up. The wire laddar is one of those things I won't miss; it's about 10 inches wide, and each rung is made of a pipe around a thick wire. It's flexable and swings around, in order to climb up you need to thrust your legs out and reach directly up with your arms and have the the rest of the laddar below you swing all over the place. I never did very well with it, so when I went up I'd get someone to hold the bottom while I struggled to the top. During the afternoon I was up there for a few hours focusing the lights, climbing like a monkey over the larger truss pieces, which didn't worry me too much because they are almost like big cages, about 3 feet wide. I was nervous when it came time for me to focus the lights out on the one foot box truss, 30 feet is a long way out to climb on that stuff, and it sags and sways a great deal. The lights hung from the bottom of the truss, too, so I had to really manoeuver to get to them.

It came time to go out the truss and I started getting a bit nervous. Any grid will sway a bit, especially when hung by chain motors like this was. I usually kept my mind on the task at hand (the focus). Larry was trying to troubleshoot all the dimmers, which were backstage. Plus, they were rented dimmers, so we had to figure out the details with each of them. This meant that I had a lot of time to sit around up in the grid while Larry worked like crazy to get things done. I could feel the truss sway, I'd watch as the laddar would swing from side to side. It's peaceful sometimes up there, when the band isn't rehearsing or doing soundcheck. In about 10 minutes Larry apologized and then we started the focus again, yelling to each other and hearing our voices echo in the superdome. I'm not kidding when I mean one-foot box truss, it's one foot wide, one foot tall and 30 feet long (3 ten-foot pieces bolted together). The truss is 4 long pipes in parallel, with other pieces of pipe criss-crossed for stength, much like how a radio tower looks. It's made of alumnium, so after climbing on this for a while my hands were black. The best way to climb out on this one-foot box truss is like a spider (Larry's description!); point the toes in and step on the bottom parts of the truss from the outside, and grab the top with your hands. I saw our other light guy Dave climb on this same truss on his butt, with his hands behind him and feet forward, but this was way too dangerous. If he slipped he would have toppled over, his center of gravity being so high. Anyhow, I carefully made it to the first light, reached below, the light hanging about a foot below the truss. Larry gave me directions on where to point the light, and I did what he wanted then secured the light with the screws on the side. I moved to the next light another 10 feet out. By this time the box truss was not only swaying from side to side, but also bouncing up and down. This light was in the middle of the span. I had been feeling really tired, and by this time I was up in the truss almost two hours. My whole body ached. I was thinking that I'd only had 2 hours of sleep in two days.

The next light was just like the first, I reached down and focused, had to struggle a bit with one of the screw handles, but fixed pretty soon. I took a breath. It was kind of hot and I was sweating. Larry yelled up "Only two more Rob! You can do it buddy. Dig Deep!" I crawled to the next light. My feet were pretty secure in the truss, and I reached down to grab the back of the light and ZZZZZAP! I was hit with a big shock. If you've ever been electrocuted you know what it feels like. The shock went through every nerve in my body. My hand jerked back and I fell directly down on the truss, my chest hit the bars and my feet slipped out of the truss. I grabbed tight to the truss and my entire body siezed the aluminum. I was clinging on as hard as I could, still shaking and numb from the shock. When I hit my wrench leaped out my back pocket and went hurling down towards Larry, but stopped short from the rope I'd tied to it, which was tied to me.

I shivered and sweated, couldn't hardly breathe as I watched people move around on the concrete directly below me, so small 60 feet below. Larry called up "You OK Rob?" I tried to speak but my voice was constricted, I managed "Shock... electric... cute.." Larry called up again "Hey man, take it easy, just stay put as long as you need to okay?" My heart was racing. I started to realize how close I was to falling. One foot of truss is not much to hold on to. Because of my landing on the truss, the entire grid was now swaying back and forth quite a bit, all the lights that were on made moving pools of light on the stage and floor below.

I stayed like this for a few more minutes, then shakily started up to move around again. My hands were sweaty and my legs ached. I've learned in my life to try and get over that stuff as quickly as possible, especially in that kind of a situtation. I unplugged the light, found the loose wire and managed to fix it, as shakey as my hands were, then focused it (albeit much slower than before) and made my way back down to the floor.

When I got back down Larry asked how I was "Pretty ... pretty shakey, I guess" I said. That feeling didn't go away for another 3 or 4 hours. I was so tired.

We finally got the grid working and the lights focused by 3am that night, and had an 8am call the next morning. The next 10 days I got about 20 hours of sleep total. Of all the gigs I did in my life, that one really burned me out.

Had Too Much To Sleaze Last Night, pt1

These are my reports from Sleazefest, posted to the Bomp List August 2000. I've included all 4 parts in the next few posts, pretty funny reading, if you like this kind of thing. I co-wrote it with Lynne.

Had Too Much to Sleaze Last Night, part 1

I guess I should preface a bit. I have been ‘working’ with Craig Zearfoss for the past couple of years videotaping shows around Chapel Hill, and Sleazefest is the highlight of the year for all of us, not just from the quality and amount of music but the great atmosphere. Sleazefest itself is an interesting animal, I am sure all of you know what it is and who started it (www.sleazefest.com), it pretty much lives up to it’s reputation, but less so these past few years I have heard (more about this in another post). As a festival it draws not only garage, but also the hillbilly/redneck and metal/country bands (Jack Black, Truckadelic, SCOTS...) I don’t mind the hick stuff, actually, but prefer the garage bands. Anyhow, it’s sort of an eclectic hodgepodge of less-than-alterna bands, playing non-stop from 3:30 till about 3:30... I think it’s a blast. The bands play a good 30-40 minutes, the breaks are short and once a band ends in the Local 506 another starts up at the Carolina Sports Bar next door. It’s a nice arrangement they have, and Craig and all of us simulcast what’s happening in the 506 to the Sports Bar along with taping the show.

Anyhow, I ramble. It’s going to be a long fun weekend for all of us here in Chapel Hill. I will try to post some comments about the bands every day, so delete the messages from Dr. Hypknotronics with your filter of choice...!

The video stuff is all setup from Craig’s previous 3 days of work, and things are working fine. We have 5 cameras in the main room of the Local 506, and 2 cameras roaming around the bars doing interviews (by some kind folks from Athens), and another in the back alley where all the bands hang out. We show b-movie trailers from Something Weird in-between bands, and have an interview booth set up in the Carolina Sports Bar as well. So while I have to ‘work’ the whole time, it’s casual and fun, and gives me a good excuse to stand right at the front and point a camera in someone’s face.

FRIDAY NIGHT (what I saw:)

Twin 6
The Maddaddys
The 45’s
The Subsonics
The Woggles
The Fleshtones
Swingin’ Neckbreakers

I didn’t get to the fest until 6:30 (work.. the bane of the drinkin’ man...), so I missed the first 5 bands. Did get a warm welcome from Twin 6, a fairly loud grungy band with lots of “cookie monster” vocals and gritty low-slung guitar. I’ll leave it at that.

Next up were The Maddaddy’s, great stuff, lots of energy and great sound. I would hazard to say garage 70’s, and I know I might get flamed for saying that. There was a large element of 70’s glam, but it was stoogy enough to be really great. Fantastic and fun. I’d recommend them for any party, just watch out for the underwear song...

The 45’s were next, and boy was I in for a treat. Not only do they hail from the same town as the Woggles, The NOW, the Subsonics and the mighty King’s English (RIP), but the guitarist plays Rickenbacker 330’s (*I can be a guitar geek*)! A plus for any band. What a sound too; big and fast, with a fantastic farfisa sound and a keyboard player who really belts it out. I am surprised I never saw them in Atlanta when I lived there... anyhow, great great band, great energy. I would travel a long way to see them again.

The Subsonics next, I think they are fantastic, and have seen them many, many times in Atlanta. I think their sound was off a bit, or something was wrong, they didn’t click until half through their set. But the delivery was great and they really stomped through some of my faves (Frankenstein, Pretty Little Pills). Plus the lead singer Clay looks great on video, he’s got a stage presence rarely seen on this earth. They are also the hands down winners thus far of the coveted “most interesting footwear” award.

The Woggles! Again and again they deliver. It was Manfred’s birthday, (as well as Mary Huff from SCOTS) and there was much celebration. The Fleshtones came out to sing happy birthday to him and to present the Woggles with some “best live foreign band” award from Spain. Their set also included a new song that was really fantastic, hope to hear that on some vinyl soon... Awesome set. Lots of energy. We lost the video 1/2 way thru, someone drunkenly bumped into the main mixer console and pulled the power on the mixer, as well as zeroed out the main video deck, but Craig got it restored in a song. This set also sported the best changeover of the night. The Fleshtones basically came out and took over the stage. The Woggles slowly left and the song, of sorts was still going. Didn’t even notice the drummer changeover which is pretty cool.

Much merriment ensued as the Fleshtones leaped into the audience, leaving only the drummer on stage. Folks were getting good and drunk by this point, so there was some groping and wiggling on the floor. The Fleshtones never fail! As chance has it, Justina and Evan from the Bomp list were standing right next to me in front! I said hey to Justina and said “I saw your picture on your Las Vegas Grind Pictures Page...” Haha! Hope that wasn’t too creepy... ! Evan recognized me from my requisite Grind teeshirt. Didn’t get to talk to you all too much, but nice meeting you, and glad you made it down.

I should also mention that Beatle Bob and Johnny Legend are the emcees for the Sleazefest, which works out kinda funny, really, with Beatle Bob and his non-stop banter...Beatle Bob will go on and on about stuff...(and his voice degenerates as the weekend goes on, Sunday he’ll sound pretty hoarse) Johnny Legend is quite nice about it and adds his own brand of sleazebanter. I am curious to see him on Sunday...

Last but not least the Swingin’ Neckbreakers. Good lord they can play. Really great. They even pestered some girls to get up and dance around, which they did. Everyone had a great time, and man they were good. They did play Mailman, reluctantly. Mary Huff got up and sang a little. Did I say they were great?

The evening wrapped up late, and as I was putting cameras up, Jack Black started to play next door! Sheesh, does this never end?! Ha ha. I didn’t make it to any of the after-hours parties, I think I would have just sat around and “Drank beer to try and stay awake” as Craig put it.

Tomorrow (er.. today) more mirth and merriment. I’ll keep you posted (oof! sorry)

--Robby

Had Too Much To Sleaze Last Night, pt2

Hello Again from Chapel Hill,

The theme for Saturday night was New Orleans night.
The Lineup:

The Golden Showers
Fireball Rocket
The Vendettas
Big Lazy
Bantam Rooster
The Blacks
The Bellrays
Quintron
Countdown Quartet
Southern Culture on the Skids
Ernie K-Doe

I didn’t get to the 506 till the middle of The Vendetta’s set. They were fantastic, really great sound that’s sloppy and clean at the same time. This was my first time seeing them. I only caught the last 10 minutes of their set, so I can’t say too much, but I liked what I heard.
The video feeds are all working nicely, and we have tons of interview footage with help from friends around who just pick up cameras and walk around interviewing people. The B-movies and 50’s stripper reels are a big hit next door, every time I go to the Sports Bar I see people watching the tv’s!

I missed The Golden Showers and Fireball Rocket, both from New Orleans. From what I hear the Golden Showers put on quite a show, with the lead singer stripping out of his red tee-shirt and short-shorts and the band playing pretty stooge-like early-70’s rock.

Big Lazy are an instrumental trio from NYC, I like their sound. Someone said they did the soundtrack song for the TV show Homicide. Sort of twangy guitar and standup bass, nice rhythm. I was running the downstage-left camera, just taking it easy, when all of a sudden the power goes out... ! Everything gets eerily quiet, but fortunately there was still sunlight out and we could all make our way out of the bar. A power line had fallen next door, and both the 506 and the Sports Bar were out of power.

This lasted a while. I was sitting out front when I spotted my old friend Keith Herrera walking by. It turns out he plays drums for the Golden Showers which I unfortunately missed earlier. We reminisced about the ‘old days’ in Albuquerque (we both played in the Drags together, and he was in some other great bands like Big Damn Crazy Weight). I went and met the other members of the Golden Showers backstage and saw some other friends from Atlanta. It was interesting to finally get to talk to people in a much quieter setting. Members of the Big Lazy stayed on stage at the 506 and started an acoustic jam, some guy on a banjo was playing... in any other venue in a normal setting this wouldn’t be too interesting, but in a dark and extremely QUIET club it was very curious to hear. It was a good soundtrack for a power outage in a steamy southern club.

Finally the power came on, 2 hours after it went off. Dave assured all of us that the bands will play their full sets, and the Big Lazy went on and finished up the last 4-5 songs of their set.

The Blacks were next, from Chicago. I really liked their sound, stand-up bass and two guitars, with a phenomenal drummer (who reminds me of Animal from the Muppet Show...!). Great singing and harmonies, with enough grit and guts to really get the place jumping.

At this point I headed over to the Sports Bar, Lynne told me that there was something I *must* see... it was MC Tracheotomy with Quintron, using his light-modulator thingy. MC Tracheotomy is this guy with a big white afro and spangly 70’s glitter clothes, rapping about whatever surreal thing. From New Orleans, and Funny!

The Bellrays. From San Francisco, I think. Wow. The flier says “If MC5 was fronted by Aretha Franklin”, and well, it’s true. Probably my fave of the night, just for energy. More of that stoogy/MC5 sound that’s so big with the kids, and the audience couldn’t get enough. The lead singer is great, she really took control of the stage. There was this photographer guy who had been getting up on stage with every band and taking pictures REALLY close up, walking in front of guitar solos and stuff (pretty rude, I think), well he got up there during this set, and was looking through his camera when the lead singer grabs him by the collar and throws him off the stage! The audience went wild. He never returned to get more photos...

Lynne only caught the end of the Bellrays because she walked a few blocks down the street to hear the Friggs. Her report: “The Cave was packed to the absolute gills but I scored a good spot near the doorway and one step up so I could see. What a show! The Friggs really rocked hard but you could tell that they were in fact the sweetest girls in the world. At one point they announced that the next song was their ‘hate song’ and all giggled sweetly saying that they just ‘LOVE to hate’. They wrapped the set with ‘I thought you said you were going to kill yourself’ which totally rocked! I stayed long enough to buy their CD and then dashed back up the street to catch the end of the Bellrays and get back on filming duty.”

Quintron and Miss Pussycat were up next at the 506. The odd duo sang a few songs and were followed by Miss Pussycat’s Puppetshow, an very odd but great puppet show about two pirates who sail away to Caveman Island, and then their sailboat is sunk by a monster, and they all end up happily at “Underwater Nightclub” where all the drinks are free. The music sounded like the Residents and it was surreal. I loved it!

The Countdown Quartet. These guys are from here in Chapel Hill, kind of an all-star lineup of musicians (including frontman Dave Wright, Jimbo Mathis from Squirrel Nut Zippers and Tim Smith from about a zillion local bands). Great New Orleans sound with a bit of 60’s soul and funk, and quite tastefully done. They have a sax, trombone and trumpet, and the bass player usually plays an upright. I have seen them many times in and around Chapel Hill, and I always find them fun to watch. Tonight was great. The lead singer/trombone player was introduced as this: “Ladies and Gentlemen... we present to you... Ms. Mary Huff!” and Dave leaps up dressed in drag! Very funny. Mary and Rick (from SCOTS) were off stage laughing. They did their song “She’s a Looker” as “I’m a Looker” and much hilarity ensued.

Southern Culture on the Skids next, a great raucous set by the founders of Sleazefest. Year after year they totally deliver the goods. They played hard and always manage the onstage chaos so well. They had a lot of helpers already up there passing out spoonfuls of day-old banana pudding for the Banana Pudding Song and added a bunch more girls from the audience to help hand out chicken for 8-piece Box. For the final number, the three horn players from Countdown Quartet joined in the fray (2 Mary Huffs on ONE STAGE!). It was a fun set, but by the time they finished, it was 3:30am!

Ernie K-Doe was last up. I know that the stage managers and Dave from the 506 needed to get K-Doe on stage as early as possible, he didn’t want to stay up too late... ach, but the power-outtage stopped all that. I think it was 3:45 when he finally went on, and the crowd had thinned a little by then. He was pretty good, voice a bit shaky but he really enjoyed being up on stage. He mentioned how he was only going to sing “million-sellers”. He did a good version of A Certain Girl, and finished up with Mother In Law. Folks I talked to mentioned that he was “washed-up” or a “one-hit wonder”, but I think it’s cool that he keeps singing. I think back to what Brian Phillips said on this list, that he was happy seeing any band or performer that still gets up on stage, and it’s great that they can still get some respect after all these years. So while K-Doe might have been a joke to some, he seemed to enjoy it, and I appreciated the fact that there were enough people around to enjoy it too.

It was a late night. We didn’t get home till 4:30am!

Another note, people keep mentioning that this Sleazefest isn’t as sleazy as ones in the past... I guess it has a big reputation to live up too. The lead singer/bassist from the Swingin’ Neckbreakers put it best, when on-stage he asked “So is anyone going to take off their clothes? Is this Sleazefest? Oh, ok, so you guys are a little older... a little more careful...” well, that got *some* people on stage...! Anyhow, it doesn’t bother me much that it is less sleazy (I feel cleaner...), in fact I think it’s more about the music than I remember. Just an interesting observation from many. Kind of funny getting older. I wonder what the kids are doing tonight...


--Robby

Had Too Much To Sleaze Last Night, pt3

Ok.. so the message was too big to be sent, so I split this up in 2 parts... this being part 3 and the next, obviously, will be part 4.
Man it was hard to wake up Sunday morning. So, I waited until Sunday afternoon!

In the 506:

Geraldine Big Ray and the Futuras Car Bomb, Inc.
Billy Joe Winghead Mondo Topless Jimmy & the Teasers Dexterville
Trailer Bride
Truckadelic
Drive-by Truckers
Johnny Legend
In the sleaze lounge:

Kitty Box & the Alley Cats
Ultrabait
Balboas
Poly Plushcats
Blind Pharohs
Butch Wax
Mother Brothers
Baby Rose Bud
Fireball Rocket

I decided to get down to the 506 a little earlier today, mostly because I wanted to see Car Bomb. Today was interesting, I don’t think it sold out like Friday and Saturday but it was still crowded and the folks who were there were the “die-hards”. Some great music, and fun times had by all.

The first band I saw was Car Bomb from Richmond, VA. I know I have seen them before, probably at the ElvisFest in January. They play really good rockabilly, upright bass (seems to be a popular thing these days..!), a fantastic guitar player and an energetic singer. They really did a great set.

I wandered over next door to the Sleaze lounge, following the girls who were wearing matching Wonder Woman outfits who had been flirtatiously whipping me as I videotaped Car Bomb... they were in this band called Ultrabait (also from Richmond). Pretty fast and greasy punk rock, 3 girls (a la wonderwoman) and 2 guys (in tight red vinyl pants), the lead singer pouring beer all over herself, using the microphone as... er... ahem.. and general taunting and swearing at the audience. They didn’t hold back.

Next up at the 506 was Billy Joe Winghead from Oklahoma. I was up in front just before they went on, checking out the theremin, and on jumps a couple of band members, one with a chainsaw, the other with this enormous disgusting hunk of sausage, about 8-inches in diameter. BZZZZZZZZ! Meat and smoke fill the room. The feedback starts and wham! the stage erupts in chaos. They have 3 guitars in the band lineup, like the Quadrajets as I recall, and the full sound is pretty big indeed. The theremin was great, and the lead singer referenced K-Doe from the other night by saying “We are only going to play million-sellers” ! He also made a few other sarcastic remarks and managed to amuse us greatly. The set was punctuated by blowing up the remaining chunks of sausage with M-80 firecrackers and other fireworks. A fine mess! They actually apologized to the next band for the state of the stage.

After this spectacle I had quite an appetite (ha!) and went over to the Sleaze Lounge for some burgers. (They have really good food there, by the way, if you are in town or passing thru, get a grilled tuna sandwich!) Checked out the Balboas, a pretty cool surf band that have matching suits with skinny ties, and a cute girl bass player dressed in an American flag with a giant beehive haircut.

I ran back next door to the 506 where Mondo Topless were already into their set. I have seen them only once before at the 506 on some odd Tuesday or something, they were much better here. The audience loved them, and their sound was really good. They had a ‘panty gun’ which shot ladies underwear out into the audience! I love the sound of that Vox Continental organ the lead guy plays.

Jimmy and The Teasers; Jimmy Ray, Ultra Holly, and Super Valerie were next, from here in Chapel Hill. They are listed as being “stooge-inspired punk” but I think they are much more late-70’s punk rock sounding. Lots of jumping around and a really tight band. During this set many audience members jumped on stage for some sweaty frolic. The Ultrabait girls were on stage writhing around with Jimmy, one of whom took off her shirt... it got “sleazy” at that point. Much fun was had by all.

Next up, Dexterville, former Flat Duo Jet Dexter Romweber’s latest venture. Quite good. They’ve got a bunch of new songs and a CD I think. Very similar to Flat Duo Jets, loud and a similar guitar-drum lineup.

...continued on part 4.

Had Too Much To Sleaze Last Night, pt4

Ok, so this is it. The last post of my 4-part Sleazefest report, continued from part 3...

After Dexterville I took a break and went out front to get some “fresh” air... and I heard the most amazing sound coming from the Sleaze Lounge... it was Baby Rose Bud from New Orleans (the drummer is from here in Chapel Hill originally, someone said). A drum and an accordion, with a beat machine sometimes and a small casio synthesizer. Odd and interesting. A friend told me the accordion she was playing is a combo of a farfisa and a traditional accordion. It had some mighty eerie and strange sounds, and was really intriguing. They have a cd but I couldn’t get one at the time. The drummer from Baby Rose Bud is also in Fireball Rocket (also from NOLA). They started up right after Baby Rose Bud and looked really good which matches all reports about their early set yesterday.

Back to the 506 where Trailer Bride were a song into their set. They hail from here as well. Other people were running videocameras at this point, so I got a chance to just stand around and listen. Their name is somewhat misleading (I think), they aren’t a hillbilly/rock band as one might think. It is a very interesting mix of goth-country and some early-80s punk mixed in... I stood there thinking that they were a mix of Throwing Muses and the Gun Club, a really interesting sound. Great attention to tone, and the singer is marvelous. And just then, they launch into “Ghost on the Highway” by the Gun Club! Uncanny. Anyhow, don’t know if any of you all like this kind of stuff, but if you do, check them out.

I am sure many of you have heard of or have even seen Truckadelic, and they were in typical form tonight... with the added sleaze effect that they were dressed in adult diapers with “I Love (heart) Truckadelic” stickers all over. I’m not a huge fan of gasoline hillbilly stuff but I like to see it live from time to time. Truckadelic really do that schtick pretty well, and were appropriately sleazy for Sleazefest. They, by the way, win the “Most Ubiquitous Marketing Award”. They played all three days so they showed up on Friday and hung out all weekend pasting temporary “I (heart) Truckadelic” tattoos on nearly all available exposed flesh. Check for photos at www.truckadelic.com. YOUR breast/butt/thigh could be there!

By this time I was pretty spent from running videocameras, and having my head pounded in by so much music. I took a short break on the street. I could tell that this was winding down, people were looking pretty tired (except for the exceptionally drunk folks who couldn’t get enough.. you know the type).

Drive-by Truckers (from Athens, GA) were already on stage when I went back in the sweaty, smoky 506. I was prepared for another gasoline/hillbilly band, and they certainly did match up to some of my expectations, except they had more of a sound like Old 97s mixed with that punk-rocky thing I mentioned before. They played homages to Steve McQueen and to 70s stadium rock in the South (“I never saw Lynyrd Skynyrd but I sure saw Molly Hatchet...”). I think they are recording a rock opera about said stadium rock. Amusing and a pretty good sound nevertheless (and also had the 3-guitar sound wall similar to the Billy Joe Winghead/Quadrajets thing.).

Could there be MORE? Fech! Well, the last, but certainly not least was Johnny Legend. I am not too familiar with his stuff, but from what folks tell me he began writing music for porno films in the mid 60’s, rockabilly and rock and roll stuff, and has made a career out of it. Rumor has it that he even directed a film that starred the legendary John Holmes. Anyhow, he’s old(er) and gray now, with a beard down to his navel, and still crazy and lecherous. He’s actually quite funny to a certain extent and has an amazing amount of energy. Some good Johnny Legend quotes: “Jesus loves you, but Johnny licks you. There’s a big difference” and “I was playing rockabilly when Robert Gordon was only knee high to a stray cat”.
He was backed by Johnny Knox and the Blacktop Rockets (from Atlanta). Pretty solid, really, and Johnny Knox is a very flashy guitar player. Johnny Legend played a pretty mean harmonica too. It was quite a show, some girls up front got fondled and kissed by Johnny Legend, and people had a good time on the whole. The last song of the night was “Pushin’ Too Hard,” which Johnny Legend started by saying “This goes out to all the great musicians who are no longer with us... Roky Erickson, Sky Saxon... although not dead, they are no longer with us...”

Johnny Knox must have some guitars to spare. First he threw a Danelectro retrofitted with 3 special pickups into the audience with the intention of giving it away (I learned this later - ouch! I shoulda grabbed it!). The audience couldn’t conceive of this and just passed the sucker back. I guess then he thought the better of it. He ended the set by completely smashing not one but two OTHER guitars into bits (the Danelectro survived). I haven’t seen someone smash a guitar live in a long, long time. Most people enjoyed it but there were a few in the audience who could use an extra guitar who had that certain grimace. By the end everyone was pretty tired... and it was only 3am! Johnny was found outside later, handing out personalized combs that say ‘Johnny Knox - Sultan of the Silvertone’.

Dave Robertson (owner of the 506), sporting his usual army helmet, closed the weekend with his rendition of “Danny Boy”...

So all-in-all a great Sleazefest. Good to meet Evan and Justina, and many others who made the trek from afar.

One final note. As Evan mentioned, the changeovers were smooth and seamless, similar to the first Las Vegas Grind... The bands were all respectful of the time schedule and still managed to have a blast. Beatle Bob of course lost his voice by Sunday night, we could hardly understand him by half-way through the evening. Dave Robertson did a great job of scheduling the bands, and keeping everything flowing nicely. All in all, a fabulous time.

Until the next one,

--Robby

Gig report: Black Flag & St. Vitus 1984, & Punk Rock Today?

December 3rd, 1984. Long time ago. Black Flag played at this place called Casa Armijo, this little community center in Albuquerque's South Valley, a part of town known mostly for old farm communitites and latino families that had been there since the 1600s. I went with my good friend Darrell, we stuffed beers in our trenchcoats and milled around the dusty parking lot smoking cigarettes and talking to friends before the gig.

It was a weird gig. Casa Armijo had a big mural on the side of the building, one of those psychedelic chicano murals from the early 1970s that depicted a latino guy in a bandana clenching is fist to the sky. There were about a hundred hardcore punks outside; freaks in mohawks and black leather, some skate punks in plaid and ripped-up tee shirts leaning on cars and talking. Cholos in lowriders drove by out front. Someone had a boom box and listened to some hardcore, and those drinking kept their beers low and sipped them in secret.

We snuck our beer inside, and crammed into the cold hall. There were murals on the inside as well, more New Mexican in style, with scenery of New Mexico and paintings of churches painted on the stucco. We watched the band St. Vitus from far back, they were heavy metal and we weren't much into that stuff at the time. It was pretty loud, when I saw friends I'd just have to nod hello. There wasn't much for lighting either, just 4 white stage lights and the rest of the hall was pretty dark. I talked to some friends a bit between sets, darting out to the car for more beer and cigarettes.

By the time Black Flag came on the mood of the place was pretty on-edge. St. Vitus had made some people pissed off--at that time hardcore and metal had very distinct subgroups that didn't mingle at all. Hardcore punks were pretty intolerant too, at least the younger ones were. Black Flag were probably the most violent punk band back then (that I knew of), and all kinds of stuff used to happen at their gigs. The volume was incredibly loud, much louder than St. Vitus. The whole place broke out in pandemoneum when they started; squealing guitars and then a fast, violent crash of sound. Henry Rollins would start the song with a scream and then would hunch over, clutching the microphone with both hands, and continue screaming. He'd bob around onstage, holding the mic this way and every now and then would hurl a fist out at the crowd. There weren't many breaks between songs, usually one would end, then a squeal of feedback and Henry Rollins would say something to piss people off, then start in a few seconds later. By the end of the first song the band were drenched in sweat.

The slam pit was going at full-force. It was common in Albuquerque at the time for punks to swing one arm up in the air and thrash about like idiots, which I did with glee. There was always a row at the front of people staring at the band, and then just behind them a swirling pit of people crashing and jumping against each other. Thinking about it now, I noticed that in those slam pits (mosh pits), they always seemed to go around counter-clockwise, as one would in a skating rink. Anyhow, lots of thrashing and jumping.

At one point I had had enough and went to the back of the room, bruised and sweaty. I saw Henry Rollins swing a hammer and hit people in the front row, saying "you're all a bunch of faggots, slamming like that... all hot and heavy...yeah, you heard me! You are all FAGGOTS! Fuck you!" and then the band started up again with another song. There were some people flipping off Henry Rollins, others spit on him (this was a punk thing in England, not so much in the States). It was hilarious and stupid at the same time.

The gig lasted an hour, maybe, then we all spilled into the street after the show. A few fights broke out as we were leaving in the entranceway, a crush and lots of arms swinging above the sweaty crowd. I saw a big pipe swing at one of my friends and hit him on the hand, all kinds of crazy stuff was happening. The crowd pushed and then we all ran outside in a huge wave of people, tumbling all over the place. We made it out to the street to see bottles being thrown at us from the lowriders and punks throwing rocks back at them. There were a couple of fights in the parkinglot too, so Darrell and I went to the car out back, poped open a few more beers and watched the madness. Eventually the cops came and everyone split. Great show!

I heard later that one of my friends had a cracked rib and a few fingers broken, and one guy got his nose shattered. This was probably the craziest gig I ever saw in Albuquerque during that time.

About a year or so after that the scene started getting more violent and all sorts of "poseurs" started hanging out, starting fights and getting violent. The scene really died out after this. It sounds funny for Punk Rock: this violent, anti-social scene to be broken up by the same kind of violence that it fostered. The punks changed too, they got older and less interested in being so angry all the time. The newer punks were much more strict about the "correct" way to dress, and by 1986 is was definately a set style and uniform. They were also much more homophobic and angry... which to me was surprising because Punk was such a great music for all the outcasts, weirdos, and freaks. I was at a mall in Phoenix a few months ago (November 2004) and saw a whole gang of kids in retro-punk gear, mostly black. What struck me about this phase of punks was how pretty they were. These were good looking kids, albeit in black and pale. One kid had a Black Flag logo on his sleve, and I overheard someone say something about "...your 16th birthday...", which meant the kid was probably born in 1988.

For more info on that Black Flag tour, see Henry Rollins' "Get in the Van: On the Road With Black Flag," recently updated with new photos. The tour that I saw was the same one that was recorded later and came out on the record "Who's Got the 10 1/2?"

"I Am Losing My Mind Here"

The video for Alabama's "I'm In A Hurry" was shot way out in the eastern plains of New Mexico; somewhere between Albuquerque, Santa Fe and Amarillo, Texas, and the company I worked for was hired to set up the lighting grid. It was set in a flat, wind-blown grassland known as the Llano, a place where outlaws used to hide in the previous century and where peanuts and pinto beans are grown today. It was a funny and easy gig to do; the video director wanted to have a big stage set up in the middle of nowhere and have a big concert for no-one, videotaping the sound and lighting stage from helicopters while Alabama played. It was nice to have a day to set a stage up and run some simple lighting, and get paid for it too.

The set up went really smoothly, the stage came together and the lighting grid went up without any problems. There were only white lights, so I didn't have to prep anything or get any gels in, just make sure all the lights worked. There was a 400-amp generator chugging away to the side and that was enough for the whole lighting grid, although when I ran up all the lights at once the generator would emit a deep groan, lean to one side and spew out thick black smoke. It was fun to do. I'd turn the lights off and it'd purr like a regular generator, then run them all up and hear the gnnnnrrrrr of the generator and watch a plume of ink smoke belch from the exhaust. It sounded like a tractor driving through mud. My boss Jack was with me and we had a few laughs. Then came the general manager for the videoshoot, Peter, someone who we met a few hours before daybreak when we were still setting up the stage.

"What the hell are you guys doing?" He asked hurriedly.

"Oh, just screwing around. You need something?" Jack replied.

"I just need you to stop fucking around, and get to work, okay?" He snapped at us, turned around and waked away.

He'd been running around all morning long. He was one of those busy-looking Los Angeles types with a black turtleneck and his hair in a ponytail, one of the young ones I sometimes saw trying to impress older ones of his type, all of them coming from the same hollywood yuppie ilk. He had a cellular phone, pager, flashlight, walkie-talkie, and car keys all jingling from his belt, and whenever he walked he had to skip to the side so that the materials wouldn't slow him down. Earlier that morning (we started setup at 4 a.m.) he was cool and comfortable--New Mexico is quite chilly at night, even in summer, but after daybreak when the wind subsides it can get hot, dusty, and dry. Later that morning, after the tempurature rose from just above freezing to around 75°, he started perspiring. It was a little at first, just on the brow, but I could tell that the black turtleneck wasn't a good idea, especially in the unrelenting desert sun. And, to add to his misery, he had no hat either. Throughout the morning he was running from one part of the shoot to the other. This scene expanded over a few acres with catering trucks, video trailers, port-a-potties, and all kinds of tour busses and pickup trucks. Everyone was in a great mood and everything was on-time, folks were laid back and friendly. Except for Peter, who was barking into his cell phone or yammering into a walkie-talkie, his voice becoming increasingly hoarse and his clothes soaked from sweat. Most people would just give him a sideways glance and raise their eyebrows, and then quietly move away.

By 9 a.m. the stage was up and the lighting grid was focused (lights pointed in all the right directions). We cleaned up our cables by 10 a.m., and put all the gear under the stage for the shoot, since helicopters would be flying overhead videotaping at 2 p.m.. By 11 a.m. we were bored and screwing around with the generator watching it pitch to the left and spew black smoke, which gave us no end of amusement. I was during this that Peter came to us and told us to stop screwing around. Since we didn't have much work to do, we milled around the set for a while. We had 3 hours to kill.

I saw Alabama's guitar techs sitting on the back of a pickup truck and went over to talk to them about the gorgeous DanElectro guitars they had lined up, they had about 10 of them... some vintage and some new. We talked about guitars and amps for a while, and some of the guys from Alabama hung out too, they were all really nice. Peter came up again, this time he was sweating a bit more.

"The lighting grid. It's ready?"

"Yes, it's ready to go." I replied in a friendly tone, trying to make him a bit calmer.

"Has it got enough gas... for the day. Has it got enough fuel." He asked quickly in monotone, looking at his cell phone and punching a few numbers on the pad.

"Oh sure, it'll last till tomorrow I think, as long as we don't run it full-steam from now till then" I replied.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!" he barked at me. I'm not sure if he heard what I said.

One of the guitar techs peeked from around a guitar and helped me out. "He means that it's FINE, just relax man!" The other guys laughed. Peter's face started getting even redder.

"I just don't like people fucking around when there's an important video and lots of money being spent." Peter said to the guitar tech, then turned and walked off toward the stage.

"Who peed in his latté?" one guy said, and we all laughed. Peter glanced back and kept walking. The guitar tech leaned over to me and said in a Southern drawl "That fella's been gettin' worse all day. He's liable to blow a gasket any moment now, I recon." I noticed that the temperature was near 80° and that there was no wind.

The shoot went along nicely, with close-ups on the band being shot here and there, the catering truck was well-furnished and all of it was very organized, very unlike most of the gigs I had been doing up till that point. At various times during the day I'd glance and see Peter darting around the set, running sideways and barking into his walkie-talkie or cell phone. Jack said "I think Peter might be a candidate for sunburn..." I saw Peter jogging to the camera truck at one point, the veins on his forehead were casting shadows on his red face.

About 1:45 p.m., about 15 minutes before the helicopters were set to arrive, our generator was off. Just off...silent, no motor. It was a rented generator, a good solid 400 amp one as well. I didn't know how generators worked, so I radioed for Jack to come take a look at it... he was off talking to someone near the catering truck somewhere. I had a sneaking suspicion that someone had turned it off, perhaps one of Jack's famous pranks. Peter was really sweating now, big rivers of sweat rolling down his nose and across his red cheeks. His hair and shirt were wet too.

"What the fuck is the problem with this fucking thing. What is the problem. What else could go WRONG. What the FUCK could go WRONG now." he repeated himself over and over in a crazy upset monotone and paced around in the dust. I tried to reassure Peter that it'd been turned off to save gas or something, but he didn't listen to me. Jack showed up a minute later and flicked a switch on the side and the generator roared to a start. Jack said "Voila. Good as new" and winked at me. Peter wasn't amused. He whipped around and grabbed his walkie-talkie, squeezing it hard as he could, as perhaps to get more volume out of it, and shrieked "I AM LOSING MY MIND HERE! CAN ANYONE SEE THAT I'M LOSING MY MIND HERE?!" The veins in his forhead looked as if they were going to burst out of his beet-red face. His shirt, hair, and pants were soaked with sweat. He was panting. A few moments passed and we stared into Peter's mad blue eyes which darted all around. Jack, in a calm tone, said "Do you need some sunscreen?" and handed a bottle of coppertone to him. Peter emitted a crazy wheeze that sounded like a "no" and walked away.

We were under the stage as the helicopters flew overhead. The lights were at full-power and the generator roared smoothly. I watched from beneath the cracks in the stage as they flew past-- over and over--and watched Alabama lip-synch to a loudspeaker of that song "I'm In A Hurry" (They must have played it 100 times that day). At about 4 p.m. we were done with the helicopters and additional shooting would take place out on the plains (individual band members being taped).

From what one of the camera people said, all the shooting went really well and was on-schedule. Jack and I had a great time watching how the camera people set up tracks for the cameras and roll the equipment around. Everyone was really nice and we had the whole day to just kick back and enjoy the shoot. I'd see Peter from time to time, he'd be increasingly redder from the sun, and by sunset his voice was all but gone. At one point during dinner break (around 6 p.m.) I heard him scream into his cell phone "I am losing my mind here!" in a thin, angry squeak that sounded painful to listen to.

The shoot ended, we shook hands with the band and crew and they left us to tear down the lights and our stage. We had a crew of about 15 stagehands so it went down quickly and we had the whole thing packed in our semi tractor-trailer by 10 p.m. It was one of the easiest gigs I ever had to light. After the truck had been loaded and the doors closed, Peter came over to us and shook our hands.

"You guys were great, thanks for all your help" he said in a squeaky, quietly strained voice "yep, it all went well, don't you think?" Jack and I looked at each other with puzzled looks. It was dark and cold out, a blanket of stars above. The semi was chugging on idle and we were ready to leave, but curiously Peter seemed to want to chat. In the light of the headlights I could see Peter's face blistered from the day of sun. His voice sounded like it was being squeezed through a straw. "You guys did a fantastic job today, it went great." he squeeked. "Whoo. I'm bushed. Yeah, really well... really... tired. Guess I'm going to sleep well tonight... heh." He shook his head and looked down, and took a drink off a bottle of water. He sounded exhausted. Jack asked him if he needed a ride into town, he declined and nodded to his BMW across a field. "Oh well, you guys have a good one, okay? Thanks.. thanks again." He shook our hands and walked to his car. We climbed into the truck and Jack said "I think our friend Peter lost his mind here."

Komputerwelt

Kraftwerk's Komputerwelt is one of my favorite albums. In high school I'd listen to the cassette tape while driving around in the Jemez mountains in the falling snow, or sometimes in the moonlight during the summer, past the vast mountain valley known as the Valle Grande. What an amazing record; it's hilarious and serious, computer-made yet soulful, appalling and sublime. The last song on the album encapsulates the way I feel about it; the lyrics simply state "It's More Fun To Compute" in a dry computer voice over and over with gorgeous melodies and rhythmic beeps and waves of computer-driven noise. It's amazing from start to finish.

I played the album for my Dad back in 1981 when I first got the record and he really liked it. He was a nuclear physicist at Los Alamos and one of the first people to ever get an email address (back in the 60s on the bitnet). He worked with computers from early on, and was mildly interested in computer music (although not quite fond of it). He did like the Home Computer song... after he heard it he said "In 10 years everyone will have a computer in their house." My brother and I laughed; we didn't believe him at the time, in fact it sounded kind of ridiculous to us. In 1981 there really weren't "home computers," the only computers we ever came into contact with were at Dad's lab in Los Alamos; large main-frame computers like VAX, and Cray comptuers that took up entire rooms. A few years ago I reminded him of that story and he thought it was pretty funny. His prediction was off by only about two years. And now here I am starting my first blog, sitting in front of my Macintosh and thinking about Kraftwerk. "I program my home computer. Beam myself into the future."

The next time there's a full moon, get in your car late at night and listen to this album while driving around, it'll put things in perspective.

www.kraftwerk.com

Kraftwerk / Computer World
Label: Elektra
Year: 1981

1. Computer World
2. Pocket Calculator
3. Numbers
4. Computer World..2
5. Computer Love
6. Home Computer
7. It's More Fun To Compute

Why Am I Here?

Hello.
Apologies.

I'm not quite sure why I want to do this blog thing, but I'll give it a whirl. New toys, boredom, and the hope of a bright shiny future lured me to this, not to mention a few friends who wanted me to post some of my more audacious roadie and work-related stories. I hope to post up some of these every few weeks (ha), and maybe some comments about some records I love.

Ahoy! The new narcissism.

--R

www.biovarg.com