Festival For Freedom: The Rhetro Review

Last night I attended the Festival For Freedom at the University of San Francisco. It was a charity event sponsored by the Erasmus Community at the University who raised many hundreds of dollars to fight modern slavery.

The festival featured nine different SF Bay-Area acts who played to a large hall full of college kids who all seemed to have a good time. The show was supposed to begin at 5:30, but the first band, Man/Miracle, took a long time to set up, and then overplayed their allotted twenty minute segment which threw the event further off schedule. It was fun to watch Man/Miracle play their brand of poppy indie rock even though they overplayed their welcome. I especially enjoyed their cool vocal effects.

Man/Miracle, the first of nine bay-area bands to play at the Festival for Freedom at the Univesity of San Francisco Friday night

A Quantum Visionary, the second band, gets the award for most efficient ensemble. These guys from Santa Cruz had all their equipment set up in less than five minutes, and played for precisely twenty minutes. This band's efficiency and precision is reflected in their highly technical music which is difficult to describe because one song may include metal, funk and progressive elements. A far cry from a garage band. I was shooting some really good video of AQV when, 51 seconds into the first song, someone turned off the lights, making it impossible to continue filming.

A Quantum Visionary efficiently setting up their equipment

Following A Quantum Visionary, another Santa Cruz band, Depth Charge Revolt, played an impressive set of hard-hitting technical-punk. DCR featured two drummers who played tight and powerful rhythms. Their bassist boomed big and the guitar shredded magnificently while their vocalist hollered and howled as he paced back and forth between contortions. Next time they're playing in Santa Cruz, I'll be there.

Depth Charge Revolt doing what they do best

Another band worth mentioning was U of SF's own, Ghost Town Refugees, who had the most interesting visuals of all the bands. On their home turf, GTR stood silhouetted against the visual images being projected on the wall behind them. They get extra credit for their inclusion of an atomic detonation.

Ghost Town Refugees making the most of their home court advantage

Next, the Vox Jaguars took the stage to play a rousing set of songs. No wonder these Santa Cruz boys have been signed by Anodyne Records. They played like pros, and really got the crowd on their feet and moving. Their first CD will be released on Tuesday, February 10th, but they had a few copies on hand to sell at the festival.

A Quantum Visionary's master bassist, Mason Rosenberg, also lends his skills to The Vox Jaguars

The Vox Jaguars

The Vox Jaguars' Jordan Topf showing off the new Vox Jaguars CD to Depth Charge Revolt's Hector Lee Heaviside
The self-titled CD was available for the first time at the Festival For Freedom in San Francisco

A Mural

I came across this illegal graffiti mural as I biked along the San Lorenzo River last week. I like the colours, and it has been a couple of months since I posted a wall photo, so here you go.

Flower Punks of the Festival For Fredom

The following article was published earlier today in the San Francisco Bay Guardian Online. I was going to write about the festival, but Mr. Andre Torrez appears to have beaten me to it. There isn't much to add to his article other than, (if I'm not mistaken), Santa Cruz' A Quantum Visionary, will unveil their new keyboardist at this show. AQV keeps getting better and better and more interesting every time I see them. They have been compared to Yes, but that would be an unfair comparison... not to Yes, but to AQV who's style and range exceeds that of the classic prog band. AQV is an eclectic collage of all things progressive, and influences like ELP, King Crimson, Yes, and even Coheed and Cambria can be detected in their epic songs all of which last over six minutes, and never become boring. AQV is a side project of the Vox Jaguars master bassist, Mason Rosenberg who will make an appearance with both bands at the Festival for Freedom. I have also received information that the other band I was looking forward to seeing, Mountain Animal Hospital, may not play due to a bicycle accident suffered by guitarist Chris Holcomb who is still recovering from the January 12th incident.

-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-

San Francisco Bay Guardian Online

Festival for Freedom

An interwoven clan of West Coast outfits with garage rock tendencies and psychedelic leanings

BY ANDRE TORREZ

Wednesday February 4, 2009

It doesn't take six degrees of separation to link the new breed of local bands performing at the University of San Francisco's Festival for Freedom benefit show. They're an interwoven clan of West Coast outfits with garage rock tendencies and psychedelic leanings. And they're just about all in each other's MySpace top eight. If I had to label, I'd consider the term "flower punks" for 'em. I mean, c'mon, San Francisco has a huge Haight-Ashbury legacy to live up to. So, in the spirit of hippiedom and smiling on your brother, the undergrads from the university's Erasmus Community has decided to take on the cause of fighting modern-day slavery and is planning an immersion trip to Uganda and Rwanda, where they will focus their efforts on rehabilitating child soldiers.

This benefit show for that trip is a culmination of the group's efforts in social justice awareness and activism, combined with a dose of peacenik-punk rock. Taking the stage on campus: Ty Segall, Man/Miracle, and a very Birthday Party-era Nick Cave sounding Depth Charge Revolt, among others. The bands will bring the noise, so you should bring your bucks to help support this worthwhile cause for the marginalized children of Uganda.

FESTIVAL FOR FREEDOM: USF BENEFIT FOR THE REHABILITATION OF UGANDAN CHILD SOLDIERS With A Quantum Visionary, Depth Charge Revolt, Travis Hayes, Ghosttown Refugees, the Vox Jaguars, James Rabbit, Ty Segall, and Man/Miracle. Fri/6, 6:30 p.m., $5–$8. McClaren 250, Phelan Building, University of San Francisco campus, SF. (831) 588-3537

BY ANDRE TORREZ

California Uber Alles!

I shot this photo of a Eucalyptus blossom near Schwan Lake in Santa Cruz

In some parts of the country folks are freezing to death in their homes because of widespread power outages, but here on California's Central Coast, it looks and feels like spring. Even Mother Nature appears to have been fooled. Mighty Mo took these photos on her walk to the beach yesterday, the first day of February, 2009.

California Uber Alles!

Post-Punk X - Pickin' on the Knitters

The Knitters at Moe's Alley Last Night

Something that is difficult for me to get my brain around is the fact that I started listening to X before Ronald Reagan was President of the United States. Five presidents later, I still listen to X, but even more surprising is the fact that the raucous and rowdy rockabilly punk band from LA is still going strong... in one form or another. These days, they're touring as a bona fide cowpoke band.

When pUnK Wasn't Cool

The first time I heard X was in the Spring of 1980. Jon and I were hanging out at our friend David's house in Tooele, Utah listening to music and talking about bands when David asked, "Have you ever heard X?" I replied, "I know Generation X, is that what you mean?" He pulled out his newly acquired record and began to educate us about the band and their legendary producer, Ray Manzarek, from the Doors, who, he informed us, also plays keyboards on the record. He removed the black vinyl disc from it's sleeve, placed the record on the turntable, and after a quick dusting, placed the stylus on the first track of side one... Los Angeles. It was obvious from that moment that X had a truly unique sound, and that they were worth paying attention to. I did. To me, X was evidence that punk could be poignant artsy and smart... eXactly what the stagnant music industry needed.

Sometime in the early eighties, I had the opportunity to see X live for the first of what would become many times. The show was in Salt Lake City at the old dilapidated fairgrounds coliseum... an appropriate place for the big rockabilly sound of X. 004, a local ska band, opened the show that night. 004* was followed by Angst, a semi-punk bay area band. Both gave exceptional performances, but when X took the stage, it became obvious who everyone was there to see. X sounded great, and seemed to give it all they had. The crowd's enthusiastic appreciation was reciprocated by the band who seemed joyously surprised by their favorable reception behind the Zion Curtain.

When Mighty Mo and I first met, one of the things we had in common was X, and we still go to see them perform whenever the opportunity presents itself. Strangely, from San Francisco to Madison, the most fun X shows have always been in SLC.***

Knit Pickin' and Grinnin' Twenty-Nine Years Later

I was thrilled when I learned that X had a country music alter ego band called The Knitters. First, I can't resist silent letters, (especially K), and secondly, I thought the idea was brilliant - Cowpoke music played by punk rockers. It's stuff like that that keeps life worth living. Speaking of living, one thing that I love about living in Santa Cruz, is the fact that I've had so many opportunities to see my favorite musicians perform in quaint venues, like Moe's Alley. Last night, Mighty Mo and I took the bus across town to see the Knitters play at Moe's. We had found out about it only a day before the show, and were happy that it hadn't sold out.** Whew!

Moe's Alley was filled to capacity. Apparently, word had gotten out about the Knitters, and the fact that the band features three X Patriots. The eclectic stylings of wardrobe exhibited by attendees was entertaining and amusing to observe. I assumed there would be lots of rockabilly folks, but saw only a few watered-down versions thereof. No jet-black haired gals sporting Betty Page bangs. Dang!

As we sat at a table in the back, listening to the opening act, X's vocalist, Exene strolled right behind Mighty Mo on her way to use the restroom while the crowd was distracted. I told Mighty Mo who had just walked behind her, and she proclaimed, "I love her." When Exene came out from the restroom, she passed by us again. As she did, I got her attention and told her, "We love you, Exene." She blushed, and sheepishly said, "Thanks" and disappeared into the crowd, hoping not to be recognized by anyone else.

When the Knitters took the stage, Moe's Alley came alive. We muscled our way to within fifteen feet of the stage before being thwarted by a wall of compressed thirty-five to fifty-five year old bodies that prevented us from getting any closer. It had been cold earlier, but now, within that mass of huddled humanity, I was warm and cozy.

The Knitters played for two hours, to an appreciative and enthusiastic crowd. The songs were truly country floavoured, but there was no mistaking the tell-tale harmonies of John X Doe and Exene that are so prominent in X.

Dave Alvin, the smokin' guitarist of Blasters fame really impressed me with his marvelous playing. His skillful manipulation of his fancy Fender Stratocaster gave the band a rockin' down-home sound. I think he gets better with age.

The low ceilings at Moe's are conducive to a powerful punch from the bass, and Jonny Ray Bartel made use of the special space. His stand-up bass sounded clear and powerful. An integral part of rockabilly, it was a pleasure to observe Mr. Bartel's technique.

The five Knitters played a handful of Merle Haggard covers and even treated us to a country version of The New World, a classic X song. The crowd swayed and sang along with most of the Knitters tunes, too. A truly warm and memorable show.

I called Moe's ahead of time to find out what the camera policy would be, and was happy to find out that I didn't have to sneak it in. Even though Moe's was crowded, and we didn't have the best position in the house, we managed to take a few photos and video before the batteries died.

The Knitters front-man, John X Doe, was personable and engaging

X band members, Exene and D.J. Bonebrake at Moe's

John X Doe and Exene

John X Doe's Highy 17 Warning

* 004 featured fellow Tooelian, Phil Miller, on saxophone

** Maybe it did sell out. That would explain why the joint was so crowded. I don't think I've seen so many people stuffed into our popular roadhouse before. It's probably happened, but not while I've been there.

*** I think it may have been the Dee Burgers.

SLC PuNk Meets the MeaT puPpeTs

In the early eighties, PuNk rock was still a fairly new phenomenon and hadn't yet sold out, (or bought in), to the corporate machine that seems to condemn everything it touches to some kind of entropic doom. According to many, that's what happened to PuNk the following August.*

I don't know how the Indian Center came to be the primary venue for the early bands in Salt Lake City, but I can't imagine a better place for raucous mosh-pits to slam to the sound of the new genre. The old brick building on 1300 South had large windows open wide, allowing fresh air to relieve the hot and sweaty moshers. The 60' x 80' theater could accommodate a substantial gathering too. The Indian Center was mainly used by the Native American community, however on occasion, a different kind of Mohawk touting tribe made use of the social center. SLC PuNks!

Flyer Image Thanks To writermama... Link

I had already heard lots of Black Flag before Henry Rollins joined the noisy ensemble. Jon and I wondered skeptically about Rollins addition to the band; we had seen first-hand what Steve Perry had done to Journey, plus, we could see the direction the new PuNk music was heading and it didn't look good.

Even though it was April, the weather was unseasonably cold and had even snowed. We arrived early at the Indian Center because we didn't want to miss any of the bands. We had paid seven bucks each for the fancy yellow-green transparent tickets and wanted to make sure that we got our money's worth, (unlike my own kids, I had to work to for my money when I was their age).

There were already a couple hundred kids there. A far cry from the old days when a handful of PuNks would show up with self mutilated hair. Now there were lots of short hairs and bald hairs running around with home-made t shirts and lots of black leather jackets. Those without the courage to cut their hair, had it PuNked up with lots of hairspray or some kind of goo. It was easy to spot the poseurs. Jon and I both still had long hair. Neither of us were into fads, and figured it was more PuNk to be different from all the conformist PuNks. We kind of stuck out and could only see two other guys with long hair in the entire Indian Center. One of them was sitting against the wall watching everyone nervously. I got the feeling that he was probably with one of the bands. Maybe even the new Black Flag guy. I was right. There he was, casually leaning against the cool brick wall, the very un-famous and young (nearly baby-faced) Henry Rollins on one of his first tours with Black Flag. I hope he had fun in SLC. I'm sure he was surprised that there were so many PuNks behind the Zion curtain.

Act One
Snot and Snowballs

The first band nearly caused a riot. Nig-Heist came out wearing only little white briefs. They seemed more interested in antagonizing the crowd than playing music. Their hair was long and flowing, like Ted Nugent wore his at the time, and that didn't go over well with the PuNks who began spitting big lougies at the nearly naked musicians. Oddly, the band seemed to enjoy the attention. The snot was getting out of control when a large snowball just missed the drummer's head and smashed into the wall behind the band. Jon doesn't usually miss. It was cold and snowy outside, but everyone inside was sweating from the mass of people crowded together moshing chaotically. We were covered with sweat, while the band, covered with snot, played on. More snowballs began to fly in through the large open windows on the east side of the building. Rage!

Act Two
The Massacre Guys

One of Salt Lake's local and most successful old-school PuNk bands, the Massacre Guys, played next. Jon and I had been outside cooling off, but when the MG's began to play, we gathered an arsenal of snowballs which we carried inside and distributed without prejudice. The most fun ever mosh pit ensued.

Act Three
Pinochio Wants to be a Real Boy

The Meat Puppets brought some sanity back to the Indian Center. The snot supply had dried up, and no more snowballs were directed at the stage, but the floor had become slippery from a combination of snow, snot and spilled drinks, resulting in many fallen and trampled moshers. Ouch! I went to the restroom to take a leak. As I washed my hands, I realized that there was no mirror, but could see that one had previously hung on the wall above the sink. Out of the corner of my face, I noticed a Native American guy standing in the doorway keeping an eye on the restroom. I pulled a comb from my back pocket and combed my hair as if I was looking at myself in the nonexistent mirror. He liked that. When I returned to the dance floor, I met a girl who I spent the remainder of the Meat Puppets set with. We danced together for about a half hour by the time the Meat Puppets stopped playing. I could see that Jon was feeling dissed, so I left her there with her friends who swiftly wisped her away. As our friends ushered us off in different directions, our eyes met as she was swallowed up by the mass of people, never to be seen again. I was smart enough to know that she would be one of many girls, and that my best friend comes first. We went outside to cool down while throwing snowballs at passing cars. Thump!

Act Four
Name with no Anagram
Black Flag was fun to watch but it wasn't the Black Flag I knew. I was standing against the stage with Mr. Rollins directly in front of me. He was heavily tattooed, and incredibly sweaty. He wore no shirt, and little Dolphin shorts. His long stringy black hair draped over the shaven side of his head when it wasn't thrashing about. Squatting and screaming, he stood before me at less than arms length, and I was strongly impressed with the feeling that Henry Rollins was an egotistical jerk. I realized that if I reached out and pulled his leg out from under him, that he'd fall right on his arse in front of everyone. I amused myself with the notion, and fought off the impulse. I did pull out some hairs on his legs though. He didn't like that, and offered a bit of a sissy-kick and a glare, before retreating a half-step, out of my reach. It was the beginning of the end of an era. Black Flag - Kills PuNk Dead!

A Quarter Century Later
PuNk is dead, but the Meat Puppets live on. Not many bands have the staying power of this trio from Arizona. I hadn't seen the Pinocchio brothers in nearly three decades, but a hat-full of hours ago, I had the opportunity to see the Meat Puppets live in my own town, in my favorite local theater. The Meat Puppets I saw all those years ago in the Indian Center appear to have become real boys... actually men now... old men. Nevertheless, the well weathered remnant of an age long gone demonstrated their craft with skill and professionalism as they presented their two-hour show at the Rio Theater in Santa Cruz. The Brothers Kirkwood expressed their kindred familiarity as they played a variety of multi-tempo songs ranging from Cashesque cowboy rythms to psychedelia. I was impressed by Curt Kirkwood's exclusive usage of an acoustic guitar throughout the show. It reminded me how versatile the acoustic guitar really is and how much fun I used to have playing mine through effect pedals to achieve unique** sounds.

The audience at the Rio Last night was much tamer and respectful than the snot hucking snowball chucking juveniles that attended the Meat Puppets show twenty eight years ago. I'm glad the Rio didn't get trashed. There was no stage diving and no mosh pit at last night's show either. In fact, there were only two moshers who gave it a go during the opening act.***


*MTV launched on August 1, 1981. About that same time, I attempted to start a PuNk is Dead campaign, but it didn't catch on.

** One of my favorite acoustic guitar sounds was created by holding the inner wire of a broken E string with needle-nose pliers and applying tension while laying it across a pickup. The tension in the string causes the outer wire to uncoil, making a nifty whirring sound.

*** Shaky Hands from Portland Oregon played an enthusiastic set, but I was disappointed that our favorite local band, the Vox Jaguars, didn't open the show. I assumed they would since they share the same recording label with the Meat Puppets (Anodyne).

PuNk isn't what it used to be

SKI KIRKWOOD!

Early Surveying Practice

Early Surveying Practice by Richard M. Bennett

First Sunset of 2009

New Years Day in Santa Cruz, California.
Although it wasn't the most impressive sunset I've beheld from this location, it was lovely to watch the sun go down over Monterey Bay tonight. The first sunset of the year.

Dreidelim

I made these two dreidels a decade or so ago. One is made of clay, (like in the song), and the other is a modified land surveyor's stake. Fun!

Reflections of Santa Cruz

I made a quick trip to the post office early this morning and found that all three drop boxes were completely full and nearly overflowing... stuffed with last-minute holiday cards. I shoved three envelopes into a space in the box, and continued down the street. I hadn't gone far when I noticed a mural reflecting in a pool of rainwater that had accumulated over night. I quickly pulled over and grabbed my camera.

I was stabilizing my awesome little Cannon Power Shot A710 IS against a no parking sign when, out of the corner of my face, I saw a car pull up and stop next to me in the no parking zone. I cast quick a glance toward the visitor to determine whether I needed to run, fight, or prepare to meet my maker. Fortunately it was only a Santa Cruz Police officer.

I continued taking photos of the large puddle when I was approached by the officer who politely asked me what I was doing. It was all too obvious, but I answered his query by telling him that I was attempting to photograph the reflection of the mural before the sun hit the wall. He asked me if I was a photographer, and I said no, but that I couldn't pass up the opportunity to get a picture of the reflection. As another squad car pulled up for backup, he told me that he had stopped because I looked weird* the way I was squatting on the curb, leaning against the pole. I laughed, and continued snapping photos. He bid me farewell, and politely wished me a good day.

I felt a bit rushed in the presence of the authority figures, therefore the pictures didn't turn out nearly as well as I had hoped. Excuses excuses. Hey, I'm not a photographer... but I play one on Rhetro TV.

* Wow! I feel like I've accomplished something today. It's tough to look weird in Santa Cruz, and I did it.

Big Brother and the Holding Company Meets The Vox Jaguars: Zenberg Post #200

It wasn't until there were fifteen cops standing behind my open trunk that I realized that this probably wasn't the best place to bring a gas mask. There's nothing illegal, or dangerous about gas masks, but with all the hyped fear of terrorists these days, such an item, even if it was my Halloween costume, could easily be misconstrued as offensive gear for a subversive. After all, this was a huge Halloween music festival, put on by the City of Francisco, and there were enough police there to handle any situation. They were on Halloween-orange alert, so to speak. Fortunately, the Israeli- made gas mask, (my best one), was under a grocery bag, and tucked between amplifiers and other musical equipment. I casually slid it inside the grocery bag, covered it with my raincoat, set it down on the ground near one of the officers, and began unloading the musical equipment.

Big Brother and the Holding Company was already on stage playing and watched us curiously from the stage as we unloaded the automobiles and carried the guitars, amplifiers, drums, etc. to the white tent located behind the stage. Inside the tent was an assortment of instruments and a slough of goodies for the musicians to enjoy.

The band that made Janis Joplin famous, Big Brother and the Holding Company was one of the biggest and most popular bands in the late sixties, but their popularity faded as the sixties vaporized into the seventies. Now, there's a 21st century incarnation of the band, and they sound great.

Cathy Richardson belts out the blues better than Janis Joplin did. She's a lot more friendly on the eyes too.

The Vox Jaguars' Noah Bond and Mason Rosenberg watch Big Brother from back stage as the next act, Jimi Hendrix Tribute, prepares to take the stage.

"Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose..."

Original Big Brother drummer, Dave Getz, demonstrates that he's still got it.

After Big Brother's set, Cathy Richardson takes time to pose with The Vox Jaguars' Jordan Topf back stage

Even though the guitarist was right handed, after watching the Jimi Hendrix Tribute play, I felt as though I had actually seen the legendary Jimi Hendrix. I have serious doubts that Mr. Hendrix himself ever played that well, though. I was truly impressed with the proficiency and imitative power of this trio. Every melodic nuance was reproduced to perfection... it looked and sounded exactly like the Jimi Hendrix Experience. They even played the Star Spangled Banner and dedicated it to all the US troups fighting in wars across the globe. I put my hand over my heart and listened to a flawless rendition of the patriotic piece/peace.

Meanwhile, back stage, inside the white tent, Mason Rosenberg and Trevor Hope play along with the band on stage to get warmed up for The Vox Jaguars' big show.

When The Vox Jaguars took the stage, it was dark, and the wind was blowing, but it was still pretty warm, for San Francisco. The band played a short set, and sounded great. Unfortunately, the wind destroyed most of the audio portion of the video that I took. By the time the band left the stage, there were a couple thousand enthusiastic people watching the show. I heard comments like, "That was great!" - "Those guys are going to go far." - "Have you ever seen a bassist play like that? Amazing!" and, etc.Click on photo to view video
The Vox Jaguars on stage Halloween Night at the AT&T Giants Baseball Parking Lot A
The Summer Of Love's Halloween Festival in San Francisco, California.

vOte fOr Obama = vOte fOr mOre WAR

Trick or Treat? A Rhetorical Question


Evidence of Obama support is all around me here on California's Central Coast. It seems that everywhere I go, I see it displayed proudly by a diverse cross-section of the community. Most of my neighbors have Obama yard signs now, and more cars sport Obama bumper stickers than those that don't. It is really quite impressive, too. The thing that is ironic about this situation is the fact that most of these same supporters claim to be anti-war, and even display Obama stickers in close proximity to their anti-war slogans. Sad, but true. The reality of the matter for anti-war advocates, is that a vote for Obama, is an endorsement for escalated war in Afghanistan. Ouch! And no Santa Clause or Easter Bunny either !!! Sorry I had to be the one to tell you.
~&>(-

Happy Halloween

Rhetro Santa Cruz

After closer inspection, what at first appeared to me to be a cute cartoon on the cover of Metro Santa Cruz, turned out to be one of the most offensive mainstream political cartoons I've ever seen. I've been a reader of the local free-paper for many years, and I'm surprised by their apparent oversight on the cover of this issue.

The cartoon, by Steven DeCinzo, depicts a giant, thousand foot tall Super Obama standing on the West Coast of the United States, with both feet firmly planted here in Santa Cruz. His right foot has crushed the Santa Cruz Sentinel building, while his left foot has laid to waste the KSCO radio studios. Why is Obama crushing these two free-speech centers?

The Santa Cruz Sentinel is your basic daily local newspaper that prints whatever information the Associated Press allows to trickle down, while KSCO is the only talk radio station in the Monterey Bay area whose format hosts numerous political and social views, and is certainly more diverse than every other radio station in the area.

The most unfortunate detail in the DeCinzo cartoon, is a swastika at the base of the KSCO rubble. What pray-tell is Mr. DeCinzo implying? If he is saying that KSCO is a nazi organization, he should be aware how offensive that accusation must be to the Zwerlings, the Jewish family who owns the station as well as the other Jewish personalities and employees who work at the station.

Following is a tongue-in-cheek Rhetro Zenberg re-interpretation of the offensive cartoon.

A giant smirking monster, like something right out of Jason and the Argonauts, has began it's heinous attack on the United States, starting here in Santa Cruz. His first decisive act was the destruction of free-speech by crushing the local print and talk radio mediums. No voices of descent will be tolerated by the proud self-aggrandizing giant who takes time to pose. The powerful muscle bulge in his arms causes the fabrique of his swastika armband to tear and fall upon the rubble of KSCO at his feet. And he's only just begun.

I usually like some of DeCinzo's depictions of Santa Cruz. Below are two of my favorites.

=@# - Bunny Boy Review - #@= Part 9

Not to be continuedI'm so excited because I'm finally finished with this Bunny Boy triple trilogy project. After this, I won't need to say anything about the Residents for a long time. Yay!

If you haven't heard the Residents before, the Bunny Boy probably isn't for you. The Residents require an acquired taste, as well as a fully functional sense of humour to be appreciated appropriately. The latter will get a first-timer a long way though, and everyone is a first-timer sometime.

Historique

The Residents are an anonymous collective of musicians and artisans who have been hiding in the shadows since before the war. Their 1976 song, Satisfaction, is credited as being the first* Punk single, (even though it isn't punk).

In the late seventies, the Residents associated themselves with the image of a large eyeballed tuxedo in a top-hat. A smart move. Every eye-con needs a good image for devotees to venerate.

The Residents' records have mostly been thematic and conceptual. This approach allows the Residents to re-invent themselves whenever necessary... something they've done dozens of times. They avoid personal fame by remaining anonymous, and rarely grant interviews. Their official information is misleading at best. They've done a pretty good job at staying aloof for the past three and a half decades.

Bunny Boy Feels Like the Furr-ssst Time

I've been trying to listen to the new Bunny Boy album as if it was the first time I had heard the Residents. For research, I attended a recent live Residents performance with two people who had never seen or heard the Residents before. Their naivete was telling, and a little surprising at times. After the show, Mein Frenzel asked me, "Are they always like that?" That's actually a pretty tough question because, no, the Residents have never been like that, and yes, the Residents are always like that... nothing like you have ever seen before. Seeing the Residents is always like seeing them for the furrsst time.

This time the superintendents of the subterranean have chosen a ridiculously contrived story about a supposed former colleague of theirs whose fascination with rabbits and the coming apocalypse has driven him off the deep end. I don't think anyone really believes the tripe about the Residents good-will gesture to help their crazy friend find his brother Harvey who has supposedly, mysteriously disappeared.

To tell the story, (or confuse it further), the Residents have been showing a You Tube series of videos supposedly filmed by the Bunny Boy himself. These short movies chronicle his psychotic search for his brother Harvey. Portions of these videos were featured in their live performance as well.

The songs on the album are all short and catchy tunes that I find myself whistling as I go about my daily duties. The melodies are smart, and the snappy arrangements of deranged songs are FUN to listen to. At the live performance, the songs were presented in a different order than that of the CD. I'm not sure what that means.

Mr. Bunny Boy's video series didn't do much to convince me that the lost brother story was real and I haven't lost any sleep over Harvey's disappearance. In one of the early episodes, (2 I think), the Bunny Boy plays a message on his answering machine from someone who he claims to be his brother. In one of the following episodes, we see the chord to the answering machine unplugged. You'd think he'd want to keep it plugged in in the event Harvey calls again.

In another episode, the Bunny Boy points out his first family photo. It's an old black and white picture that shows himself as a baby with his mom, and dad, (dad is a book). Among the plethora of photos of family and friends pasted on the walls of the Bunny Boy's secretum sanctorum, there are surprisingly none of his supposed brother Harvey. Likewise, when the Bunny Boy shows the family photographs from Greece, there are none of Harvey, however, the Homeric Bunny Boy is present in many of them. I suppose the case could be made that Harvey was the photographer who took the pictures, and therefore wouldn't be in any of them.

These clues lead me to think that the Bunny Boy and Harvey are a one man show, so to speak. Apparently something happened that forever separated the Bunny Boy from his once golden guy personality. Maybe it was the recognition of his own insanity that pushed him over the edge, maybe it was eight years of the Bush Administration, maybe it isn't even real... so why am I wasting my time pondering it??? It brings to mind the Residents early film, Vileness Fats, where conjoined twins, in a jealous rage, fight to the death over a woman. The victor limps away, dragging the corpse of his conjoined brother behind him. I think the psychological equivalent happened to the Bunny Boy. Maybe not.

For some reason, insane people always find themselves mentioned in Holy Writ as some kind of messenger or messianic figure. This was true of Harvey who's fascination with Saint John's apocalyptic visions took him to all the way to the Island of Patmos** where the apostle wrote the Book of Revelation. Apparently, this is where Harvey came unglued.

The most surprising thing about the Bunny Boy album is how well it works. Who'd have thought insanity could be so artsy-fartsy and down-right fun?
EDWEENA would give The Residents Bunny Boy two thumbs up... if she had thumbs. 

* I held it in my hands, but didn't buy it when I had the chance. It's worth about a million bucks now. Maybe more?

** I was glad that it wasn't Easter Island.

=@# - Bunny Boy is a Big Fat Copy Cat - #@= Part 8

Did anyone else noticed how the Residents blatantly stole my blog idea and posted it on their own blog? "How many Residents are there?" Good question guys... where did you come up with that one?

When I covered the built-in camera on my laptop with tape, I thought it was just a coincidence when the Residents did exactly the same thing on one of their Bunny Boy internet episodes less than two weeks later. Now I am more suspicious!

It makes me wonder if the Residents have ever had an original idea, or do they just steal them from me all the time???

I'm locking all my ideas up in safe deposit box out of certain eye's view.

With no new ideas, the Residents will be forced to announce their retirement at the conclusion of the Bunny Boy Tour.

=@# - The Bunny Boy at the Rio- #@= Part 7

Bunny Boy Wanna-be in front of Rio Theater in Santa Cruz Friday Night

Wanna watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat?

I was born in the Year of the Rabbit. Maybe that's why I was so amused by the Residents' presentation of the Bunny Boy last night at the Rio Theater here in Santa Cruz, California. More likely, it's because I've been a Residents fan since the seventies.

Eye spy with my little I

I paid close attention to the goings on at the Rio all week, and I'm happy to report that I caught a few glimpses of those mysterious masters of anonymity, the Residents. Last night, I spotted one of them again as the doors to the Rio opened and the crowd began shuffling in. It was guitarist, Nolan Cook. He had come outside to view the spectacle of hundreds of Residents fans lined up all the way down Soquel Ave., all the way to Comerica Bank. What a strange feeling it must have been to stand so close to his fans, as they strolled past oblivious to him. Imagine if one of the Beatles had stepped out of a theater where they were playing what commotion would have ensued. Anonymity gives the Residents a bit of control over their fame.

. There were eyeballs and bunnies everywhere.
Waiting in line was almost as entertaining as the show.

The Rio Theater in Santa Cruz, CA
I can't imagine a better place to see the Residents

I saw Mr. Cook again inside, at the top of the stairs at the same spot I met Tony Levin a few years ago. "Welcome!" I said. "Thanks," he replied sheepishly, realizing his cover had been blown. We headed down the stairs to the lobby where hundreds of fans were coagulating. I stood in line to browse the merchandise, but none of it was manufactured in the United States, so I didn't purchase anything. Besides, all I really wanted was the Letters from Patmos CD, but it was not available at this particular show =8>(-

Those hoodies were really cool though.

No Cameras Allowed

You'd think that Robert Fripp was a Resident with a camera policy like that (I always think of Fripp on the guitar solo part of the Moisture video). Needless to say, I was disappointed that I wasn't allowed to take my camera inside. I had hoped to get some great shots for the blog. I took a dozen or so photos with my phone, but the quality is poor.

I got a great seat on the fourth row and center. Perfect! Before me was the stunning snow-white set consisting of some fancy construction with 2" PVC tubing and a white, semi-opaque canvas-like covering. At each side of the stage was a half-dome structure. On the right, the half dome was concave to the audience while the dome on the left side was convex. Inside the concave dome was a guitar and a collection of electronique instruments. Obviously, this was the area the band would be positioned throughout the show. Shadow profiles of dangling bunnies could be seen on the fabrique of the left dome. I assumed it to be the secret room. Separating the domes was a three foot wide shrouded door with decorative video screen above it. Stage smoke spewed from behind the set, while new Residents intermission music played over speakers. I could already tell that this was going to be something special.

The Residents Bunny Boy show was kind of like, Aqualung meets Swinging Songs for Sybil's Siblings. Crazy! I'm going to critique the Bunny Boy album on another post, and will attempt to dissect this crazy carousel of dueling personas in Part Nine of the Bunny Boy Triple-Trilogy review. In the meantime, here's a handful of phuzzi fotoz from the debut show of the Bunny Boy Tour, taken with my scratchy* telephono lens.






* I miss Scratch