Double dose of Mission of Burma:

1)  My interview with Roger Miller.

I discovered college radio at the dawn of 1981, when I was 14 years old.  “That’s When I Reach for My Revolver” was an early discovery.  However, I wasn’t able to start seeing live shows until Mission of Burma were gone.  I did see Roger Miller’s Maximum Electric Piano at the Court Tavern once (he went down really well in that dank basement), and Peter Prescott with the Volcano Suns and Kustomized.  However, it all paled to seeing the original trio doing “Peking Spring” and “Academy Fight Song” in Seattle in 2002.  That was the moment when Burma went from a casual favorite to a band I admired and obsessed over.  So it was a big deal to prepare for an interview with Roger Miller.  I knew he’d be a fairly engaging interviewee, and he was – always nice when these things turn out as interesting conversations rather than press conferences.  What I didn’t expect, however, was how self-deprecating he would be.  Not that I’d expect him to sit around listening to Vs. and going, “man, I rule,” but the guy’s had a thirty-year history as a professional musician, but he still hasn’t identified just what Mission of Burma’s place is in the music world.  Perhaps that is one key to the band’s longevity – each of their post-reunion albums contain passages every bit as impressive as anything they did in the early ’80s, and that can only come from a refusal to get complacent and accept one’s place in history.  Otherwise you turn into the Pixies, touring year after year on the same group of oldies.  (Or Jeff Mangum, for that matter – it’s great that he’s found the courage to return to the stage, but I wish he’d record some new songs.  I don’t care if they’re “as good as” Aeroplane.  I want to know where his mind is now.)

2)  Review/setlist/pictures from their show at the Firebird, St. Louis, last night.

For this reason, I would have been happy if they’d just ignored “Revolver” and all their own well-known early material, and just played new stuff all night.  As it happens, the show was a satisfying and seamless mix of old and new.  This was a lot different from the Seattle show, which took place in the Experience Music Project’s Sky Church and felt very much like a concert, with a polite audience and a light show behind the band.  The Firebird was much more of a rock & roll event, complete with a small crowd going nuts from the first note of “Dust Devil.”  For that reason alone, I’d call last night’s show the better of my two Burma live experiences.  I mean, just check out these photos: you can practically feel the energy through the computer screen.  An absolutely amazing night, one of the top 10 shows I’ve seen since moving here, and something I feel lucky to have witnessed.  Given that Chickfactor zine is putting on a series of absolutely amazing concerts in NYC next week – an event I am not able to attend – I needed that feeling in my life.

My RFT piece about GG Allin’s unlikely critical durability.

Story ideas can come from anywhere.  For me, this one began germinating sometime between hearing Dum Dum Girls’ “Don’t Talk To Me” cover and local band Shaved Women’s version of same.  I don’t think that GG Allin was or is “cool,” nor do I endorse anything that he did to audience members and fans…but it fascinated me that the guy kept getting covered by such unlikely sources as Dum Dum Girls.  Clearly there was something that people found compelling about him beyond the bleeding and poop-flinging.  If freak shows were all it took to ensure a permanent fanbase, we’d be hearing a lot more Gwar covers.  I don’t think I answered that question, but I do appreciate those interviewees who helped me get to the bottom of it.

Next article will be much more in my usual positive vein, I promise.

Special Passenger Records/Dubb Nubb article in today’s RFT.

A rare local-band story from me.  Usually I focus on touring bands coming through town.  I’m planning on more local stuff for the RFT, though.  There are actually some really good bands in St. Louis right now.

This piece took awhile to come together.  I knew I wanted to write something about DN after seeing them open for Reading Rainbow at the Firebird this past spring.  However, this particular piece was originally conceived to be about Feels Like Coming Home, a compilation/film project Amanda has been working on for most of the year.  Two things happened to change focus.  First, Feels Like Coming Home took a back seat to touring and other projects.  Second, I saw DN play in a backyard (as noted a few blog entries ago), and a few more times too.  Quickly it occurred to me that there was a larger story here.  The label, the band, their friends and families..it all began to seem interrelated, but I was absolutely clueless as to how to make it work.

The way I write, I generally need to have the lede first, or at least some idea of how the story begins.  Sometimes it’s easy; sometimes I have to strain.  In this case, I’d spent the whole summer with this particular story in the back of my mind, trying to figure out a way in, and nothing seemed to work.  As usual, it all came together on deadline.  I ended up writing the whole thing in a two-hour burst on a Sunday night after putting the kids to bed.  Hope you enjoy.

(Disclaimer: I am an RFT writer who is covering some of these shows for the alt-weekly.  However, I had nothing to do with the marketing or organization of this event.  In fact, the marketing dept. may wish I was more biased after seeing my descriptions of some of the venues.)

Yes, it’s true, folks: St. Louis has a vibrant, original music community.  We’re hardly Portland or Austin, but there’s been an exponential increase in local talent over these past few years, including an infrastructure of graphic designers, recording studios, loose-knit organizations, unique record stores and frequently-updated websites.  The Riverfront Times Music Showcase isn’t necessarily the best way to get to know our indigenous local scene – some of the venues are inappropriate, and everyone’s so busy rushing around that there isn’t necessarily time to stop and chat.  But for someone like me – who’s got work and familial obligations, but who would theoretically support this scene if only I had an easy way to get to know the local bands – it serves its purpose.  Think of it as a compilation album rather than a lovingly handcrafted CD release.

I’ve been in St. Louis since 2003, but this was the first year I attended this all-day event.  What follows is my quick recap of the bands I saw.

5:00 p.m: Dubb Nubb, Rue 13.  A club with a tiny circular stage seemingly lifted from a strip bar.  I’ve already expressed my admiration for Dubb Nubb in the previous post.  They vaguely skirt the categories of “folk” and even “bluegrass,” with whoops and hollers  to match.  But it’s impossible to pick out any specific influences, which makes for an intriguing sound.  Compared to their backyard show three days earlier, their Rue 13 performance was a little more self-conscious, but they made the most of it.  The new songs still sounded great, and I was happy to hear “Pleasant Peninsula” from New Bones.

5:45 pm: Sleepy Kitty, RFT Outdoor Stage, 11th and Washington.  It was a hot day – high about 97 degrees – but it had just started to cool down by the time I made it down to the RFT outdoor stage.  Sleepy Kitty is one of the most promising new bands of the past couple of years, but this was my first time seeing them.  They’re from Seattle and Affton respectively, but you won’t meet anyone who’s more enthusiastic about their adopted hometown.  One of their new songs, for instance, is called “Riding With St. Louis.”  As a fellow emigre, I believe that it sometimes takes an out-of-towner to see the potential of this city.  Live, they’re much less twee than you’d expect from the name: drummer Evan Sult smacks his drums with Bonham-like power, and singer/guitarist Paige Brubeck alternates between power-chording and almost Frippertronic digital tricks.   They went down well before a typically strange outdoor-free-festival crowd.  I snuck into the VIP section and helped myself to the free sandwiches and bottled water.

7:00 pm:  Cassie Morgan and the Lonely Pine, Copia Urban Winery.  This is what I mean about “inappropriate” venues.  Copia is an upscale winery.  The moment we walked into the back room, we had menus thrust at us and were expected to order something.  I didn’t like this kind of attitude at NYC’s Fez back in the ’90s and I still don’t.  I ordered a cheap beer anyway and settled close to the stage to see this duo.  “The Lonely Pine” is actually Beth Bombara, whom we’ll get back to later in this post.  She plays a variety of instruments in this lineup, from maracas and floor tom to xylophone.  At times she used a violin bow on her xylophone for a nice eerie sound.  Meanwhile, Cassie Morgan plays heavily vibrato’d guitar and sings sad songs.  The effect is somewhat like a David Lynch soundtrack, desolate and dirty.  In the background, Cops played on TV.  I pretended that Cassie and Beth were narrating desperate tales of petty criminals.  Even amongst the din of restaurant patrons, it was an affecting performance.

8:15 pm: We’re Wolf, Flamingo Bowl.  I had some time to kill, so I caught a few songs by local rapper Rockwell Knuckles before heading to the Flamingo Bowl.  We’re Wolf and Dubb Nubb have played shows together, and it’s easy to hear the resemblance – both create somewhat twee, non-pro music that wouldn’t be out of place on K Records next to Mirah and Oklahoma Scramble.  However, where DN incorporates odd humor and full-throated yelling into their performance, this duo comes across more like the Softies, much more introverted and shy.  I only saw about half their set but was very impressed.  I’d like to hear them stretch a little, though – most of the songs included unison vocals, and a few harmonies would round out what’s already an appealing sound.  Looking forward to hearing them again.

8:40 pm:  Morgan Nusbaum, Rosalita’s Cantina.  I first met Morgan as the bassist of the 75s, one of the best bands to have come and gone in my time here.  She’d been in bands before the 75s, and she’s continued with Bruiser Queen and solo material.  Tonight she and BQ drummer Jason Potter rocked Rosalita’s patio, which was just beginning to swarm with typical Saturday night patrons. (Have I mentioned yet that Washington Ave. is a meat market on weekends?).  At her best, Morgan comes across like a cross between Corin Tucker and Kristin Hersh, singing and screaming her way through vulnerable songs of hurt feelings with assertiveness and control.  Good stuff.

9:30 pm: Beth Bombara, Lucas Park Grille.  By now the meat market was fully open for business.  I felt covered with a layer of grime after hours running around in hot weather and was beginning to feel the effects of almost no food all afternoon.  (I’d long sweated out the two beers I drank.)  Beth is truly one of the city’s hardest-working musicians, balancing two active band projects with recording and performing commitments.  I’d seen her band at a KDHX-sponsored Alex Chilton tribute night, but this was the first time I’d seen their original set.  I liked it a lot.  Performing with a bassist, drummer and a pedal-steel player, she reminded me a lot of Brooklyn singer/songwriter Jennifer O’Connor, combining elements of blues, country and folk for an upbeat sound that ultimately transcends such pat classifications.

10:45 pm:  Doom Town, Side Bar.  I’d been looking forward to them most of all. Doom Town is probably the only band in STL history to cover Young Marble Giants (“Final Day,” I think), plus bassist Ashley Hohman runs a mixtape exchange and inducted the Welders into the collector-scum canon through her MRR interview.  Live, they were exactly what I needed to revive my tired self.  Picture the Wipers, Husker Du and early L.A. punk pureed in a blender, with male-female vocals that were part X, part domestic quarrel.   The guitarist looks and sounds like he could have been in Jawbox circa ’91; the drummer could give any Black Flag timekeeper a run for his money with his powerful beats and fills.  They played 13 songs in 25 minutes, including an amped-up cover of Dramarama’s “Anything, Anything (I’ll Give You),”; it was over just as I’d gotten a handle on things.  I thought of seeing Bunnygrunt afterward, but was literally ready to pass out, so just wove past the many drunken revelers now crowding Washington, found my car and went home.

As I steered home, it occurred to me how draining it was to run from venue to venue.  I always whine about SXSW when I see friends’ posts and tweets from the Austin fest, but if I was this exhausted after five hours, how could I possibly be expected to keep it up at SXSW for several days?  By day #3, I’d probably be ordering in breakfast tacos and watching movies on demand.  All the same, I’ll probably go to next year’s RFT Music Showcase – as a local-band crash course, it can’t be beat.

Vivian Girls played twice in St. Louis yesterday.  A few thoughts:

1)  Whenever a band like this comes to town – specifically a band from New York City – I always wonder to what extent I’m reviewing my own past.  Vivian Girls and I have a few NYC friends in common; they are definitely the kind of band I’d have supported from their earliest shows at Cake Shop and Brooklyn warehouses.  Then there’s the Rutgers connection: bassist Katy Goodman went there, as did now ex-drummer Ali Koehler.  Granted, I missed the New Brunswick basement show scene by several years – but still, that’s two huge parts of my life wrapped up in one package.  So as much as I liked their live show – and I did very much – I admittedly brought extra mental baggage to the show.  If The Pains of Being Pure At Heart (half of whom I actually did know through Twee.Net and the Indiepop List) ever get around to playing here, I’m sure I’ll feel the same.

2)  Supporting Vivian Girls is apparently still a minority position.  Check out these reviews for Share The Joy: they’ve been mixed at best.  To me, it’s obvious that they’ve gone through some serious growing pains and learned from them.  I interviewed Cassie Ramone via email prior to the show, and what struck me most is how humble and encouraging of other musicians she was.  This is hardly the same band that gave a gruesome interview a few years ago cartoonishly dissing non-punk suburbanites, and I think they ought to be allowed to move past their awkward early days.

3)  On the other hand, there’s this great piece, which sums up Share The Joy far more coherently than I have – and, as a bonus, cogently analyzes the VGs place in NYC and the music scene as a whole.  (I’m not qualified to comment on the sexism angle – I have never consciously viewed or heard music through that prism, and I try to sidestep it when I write for better or worse.)  My favorite line of the whole piece: “Do you understand New York music? How do you not see this as an important piece in its lineage?“  It’s been 12 years since I’ve lived in New York, but to me the answer is obvious: Vivian Girls are a crucial piece of that continuum, and I wonder if they’ll ever be given credit.

4)  Black Lips fans are not happy that I gave their heroes only one sentence.  Hey, I liked the Black Lips just fine, but a) we reviewed them for the RFT last time they came to town; b) I envisioned this as a VGs piece, although the argument could be made that I should’ve gone into more detail; c) you didn’t seem that thin-skinned when you were spitting beer at the band and stagediving.

5)  “Where Do You Run To” is one of my favorite pop songs of the past several years.  I knew they wouldn’t play it, as its writer left two drummers ago.  At one time I’d have been disappointed, but yesterday I didn’t even care.  That’s high praise in and of itself.

Callie and I visited just before leaving the West Coast.  I suppose I’ve always been a little intrigued by the idea of Anacortes, with its strong connections to K Records.  I vividly remember the fog and the mountains on our way north from Seattle, which seemed to envelop everything around us.  Anacortes itself was…eh, no big deal.  Your basic Pacific Northwest small town, really.  We made a quick stop at The Business and headed back to Seattle.  I should have remembered what I supposedly learned from previous visits to Athens and Olympia: just because bands you like come from a small town is no guarantee that there’s much to do in that small town. Perhaps I should have visited when there was a good show at the Department of Safety, or stopped by during What The Heck Fest.

Anyway.  Two reviews in this week’s RFT:  Jennifer O’Connor at the Off Broadway, and Mount Eerie (from Anacortes) at the Lemp Arts Center.  Note that these shows are literally down the street from each other.  I’m going to try to hit both.  So should you.