The Vox Jaguars CD Release: A Review

After months of anticipation, the new Vox Jaguars' self-titled CD has been released on Anodyne Records. In mid-January, I received a special edition*(1) advanced copy of the Vox Jaguars to review, and now that I've heard it more than a dozen times, I feel that I'm prepared to comment on one of this year's best records.

I've been paying attention to the Vox Jaguars since I happened upon one of their live shows at Cafe Pergolesi in Santa Cruz, California about three years ago. What surprised me most about the show was that the audience, (and there seemed to be about a hundred of them crammed into the small room), knew the songs and sang along as if they were part of the band. I thought of the Cavern in Liverpool and the energy and comradary that must have existed there among early Beatle fans. It isn't every day that I see an audience so enthralled with a band, and that night, the patrons at Pergles were at one with the Vox Jaguars.

It wasn't long til the Vox Jaguars recorded a demo*(2) CD at the home studio of a friend. The exceptionally well recorded demo featured four completed tracks exhibiting plenty of musical variety and skill. The demo received quite a bit of notoriety and it seemed only natural when the Vox Jaguars' popular song, Swagger,*(3) was featured on the major prime time FOX Television program, Canturbury's Law. Producers of the show had stumbled upon the song on the Vox Jaguars' My Space page, and negotiated its use on the show.

Now, The Vox Jaguars have released their first CD, and it is sure to be popular among the indie generation in general, and spread in popularity to a broader audience in the years to come.
Beyond their darling and daring youthfulness, what makes The Vox Jaguars interesting, is the precision and power with which they play their upbeat clever and catchy songs. Smarter than punk, but not too technical for the uninitiated ear, this band has successfully drawn upon a long eclectic history of music to come up with a sound uniquely their own.

Something that can't go unnoticed at a live Vox Jaguars performance, is the display of teamwork between their powerful percussionist and bassist who keep the band timely and intriguing. Trevor Hope is truly an incredible drummer who's intricate percussion is perfectly augmented by master bassist, Mason Rosenberg. The two sound as though they've been playing together forever. This foundational backbone establishes a powerful template for high school student Jordan Topf to present his songs about teen struggle, and modern dilemma. I find it surprising that this CD exhibits a subtle LA nuance. I keep expecting Jim Morrison to belt out something ridiculous... that notion amuses me.

The current line up of the Vox Jaguars includes newest member, Noah Bond on lead guitar*(4) and voices, Jordan Topf on guitar*(5) and voices, Trevor Hope on drums, and Mason Rosenberg on bass.*(6) The lineup on the new CD features former band member Sam Copperman on keyboards. Sam recently left the band to attend to his higher education. The Vox Jaguars have not replaced him with another keyboardist, and don't plan to any time soon. Rather, they picked up high school senior Noah Bond to play guitar, and he is working out wonderfully. Noah plays like a pro and provides the ensemble with a rich round sound. A favorable addition to an already great band. There is still room for keyboards in my opinion.

I like the new self-titled release by the Vox Jaguars very much, and will surely play it on my hi-fi many more times. I think four clever boys could have come up with a more suitable title for this release however. If I had been given the opportunity to name the new Vox Jaguars CD, I would have turned their name into an anagram, such as, Jug Has a Vortex, or called it something controversial and relevant like, Obama's War Now, but I'm just an old punk who still likes to ruffle feathers. It's like eating peanuts...

The Vox Jaguars, on Anodyne Records.

*(1) My special edition copy of The Vox Jaguars arrived in a standard hard plastic case, however a more environmentally-friendly paper-box version is currently available on line and in fine stores everywhere.

What makes this special packaging unique, is the inclusion of a segment of broken guitar string from one of the instruments played by the Vox Jaguars.

The guitar string is clearly visible through the usually empty plastic window on the left-edge of the CD case. I love it when this space is used for something other than nothing at all.







*(2) The Vox Jaguars Demo CD titled, Good as Gone, rivals the new release, and in some ways is preferable to it. The songs on Good as Gone are recorded so well that they could have been included on the new release as bonus tracks. I hope Good as Gone will one day be made available again. My copy is worn out.

*(3) A new version of Swagger is the only song from the demo that has made it's way onto the new CD. Not even Metropolis, the most beloved of all the Vox Jaguars songs, appears on this new release. I should also note that the Canterbury's Law season one DVD, (featuring Swagger), will be released on February 24th, 2009. If we're lucky, they'll also release a Canterbury's Law soundtrack and include the original version of Swagger.

*(4) Noah plays a Gibson Les Paul and Fender Stratocaster

*(5) Not surprisingly, Jordan plays a Fender Jaguar

*(6) Mason usually plays an Ibanez Roadstar but lately has been seen with a Specter*(7) at some of their shows. Most of the tracks on the new CD sound as if a different bass was being played.

*(7) I've noticed that Mason usually plays his Specter in his other soon to be famous band, A Quantum Visionary, who take musical intricacy and variety to new heights.

JUG HAS A VORTEX

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

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!

Blue Monkee - Not a Belew Monkee

My first impression of the new Saul Zonana CD surprised me... in a good way. I wanted to play it for my son who's critical ear would either confirm or deny what I was hearing, so when we were alone in the car, I played it for him and didn't tell him what we were listening to, because I didn't want to influence his critique in any way. He asked, "Who are we listening to?" I replied, You tell me." He listened intently for a few moments and proclaimed, "It feels like Belew, but I know it isn't... Is it Saul Zonana?" he asked with rhetorical uncertainty. "Good job!" I affirmed. I was impressed that he guessed correctly. He had only heard Saul Zonana live on one occasion, and it had been a couple of years previous.

As we discussed the music on the CD, we agreed that it didn't really sound like Adrian Belew at all, but rather felt like Belew. Crisp, clean honest music with a side of lyrical irony, perhaps Zonana and Belew are kindred spirits. It may also have something to do with the fact the the CD was mastered at Studio Belew, and we were picking up on the feel of the equipment.

Either way, Saul Zonana's Blue Monkey stands on it's own and shouldn't be compared to anything else. A very comfortable listen. I've played it a dozen times now, and I like it better every time. Every song is good enough to become a commercial hit, and I wouldn't be surprised if someday Mr. Zonana's music is known to the masses.

I've had a chance to see Saul Zonana perform live on two separate occasions. I'm impressed by anyone who can stand up in front of a huge crowd with nothing more than a guitar and carry the show solo. Bravo!

Most recently, I saw Mr. Zonana open for Adrian Belew at Slims in San Francisco. I spoke with him at the products table where he was setting up a list and money jar so that for only one dollar, everyone who signed his list would receive his new CD when it was released. I signed the list, and reached into my wallet for a dollar, but didn't have one. Unfortunately, I had spent all my cash on pizza before the show. I figured that Mighty Mo would have a buck in her purse, but when she checked, she didn't have any cash with her either. Bummer! My name was on the list, but I hadn't paid for the CD, and by the end of the show I had forgotten all about it... until I got home and downloaded the photos from the show. There among the photos was a picture of the empty money jar. I felt terrible.


Not long ago, the new Blue Monkee CD that I didn't pay for arrived in the mail, and I've been listening to it since. It is certainly well worth a dollar, so I've decided to send a one hundred cent note ($1) to Mr. Zonana, and hopefully alter my karmic trajectory for the better.

=@# - 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.

The Residents or What Does Salt Smell Like?

Edweena

Subterranean-Rhetro

The first time I heard the Residents was in 1979. I was sixteen or seventeen, and an avid listener of I'm So Bored, Susanne Brown's Tuesday night radio program on KRCL in Salt Lake City. There was nothing else like it in Utah at the time, (or the rest of the country for that matter), and assuming that I would likely never hear the songs again, I began recording the shows on ninety-minute 8-Track tapes. I'm So Bored was unique, and presented me with a plethora of new punk and rock wave music, (as Michael G. Cavanaugh* called it), that I could listen to at my leisure on the tapes I had recorded. One of them contained a track called Plants by the Residents, which was nothing like anything I had ever heard before. I knew I'd have to hear more from these mysterious musicians.

The Cosmic Aeroplane was no doubt the most likely place to find Residents music in Salt Lake in 1979. I was astounded that good old el Cosmico had a handful of Residents records to choose from. I delightfully selected Not Available, and Fingerprince, and purchased them both, having heard neither. I bought Not Available for myself, and Fingerprince for my summertime girlfriend, Jamie, who accompanied me on my quest for the Residents. Back then, the record department at the Cosmic was located downstairs. At least that's where they kept the punk-produkts and related paraphernalia. After finalizing my purchase, we ascended the narrow stairwell, and exited the store. I had a friend named Bob Ruffner who lived near Skyline High, so we went there to hang out and listen to my new Residents records. Bob's house would be a good place to hear them for the first time because his dad had a great stereo, and surely, the Residents could be best appreciated on a good hi fi.

By the time side one of Fingerprince had finished playing, there was no way to convince Bob and Jamie to listen to side two, or the other record I had purchased. They had decided that the Residents were too weird. Bob had became partial to the last of the successful prog bands, Rush, while Jamie had metal tendencies, and fancied Van Halen and Ozzy. YUCK! Serves them both right! I had to wait until I had driven all the way back to Tooele, dropped off Jamie, and returned home before I could finally listen to Not Available on my own adequate stereo. I was shocked. It was stranger than anything I had ever... anything. It appeared to be some kind of opera about a woman named Edweena. I wasn't sure if I liked it. I played it for my friends Greggary Peckary, Merlin, Jon and Bart. Jon and Merlin gave it three thumbs up, Peck snickered, and Bart sardonically laughed, declaring, "They sound like little kids." I could forgive Bart. He didn't know any better. After all, he was a cowboy from Stockton, Utah, who's most radical venture in alternative music was Molly Hatchet and Lynnard Skynard. I suspect that Peck secretly liked it.
1979 was a time when music was stagnant on most fronts, yet changing on others. Leading the change, so far ahead they were out of sight, were the Residents, who's brand of subterranean-modern tunneled deeper than other alternatives, and kept their fans entertained with comically spooky treatments of familiar and contrived themes. I had become jaded by the polished cookie-cutter music that permeated the seventies, and in 1979 I began a five-year boycott of commercial music. Who needs commercial radio when there's KRCL? No commercial radio stations, and no TV. As it turned out, I missed a lot of terrible stuff during those years... so I hear. Remember Wham? I don't.
On Wednesday nights, KRCL presented Brad Collins' program** which featured more emphasis on the punker side of neo-underground musick. When the Residents released their critically acclaimed Eskimo album, Brad Collins played his copy in its entirety. It was awesome, and I soon procured my own copy on snow-white vinyl. One of my favorite records of all time. Eskimo was an unprecedented instant masterpiece that made it clear to me that the Residents were not only part of the underground scene... The Residents, in fact, were THE underground. Everything else sounded like pop in comparison.
In 1980 my best friend, Jon, purchased the Residents latest release, the Commercial Album. A departure from their anthropologique Eskimo, the Commercial Album featured forty - one minute songs... a mockery of formulaic top forty pop music. What was most surprising about the Commercial Album to both Jon and myself was the album cover which featured a picture of my friend Jon. I have no idea where the Residents got a photo of Jon, or why they used it on their album cover, but there he was.

Jon 1978

The Commercial Album 1980

When the Residents released their Mark of the Mole album, they pressed a handful of special edition silk screened covers which had been signed by the Residents with brown crayon, and pressed on brown vinyl. My copy was mistakenly sold at the flea market for one dollar. :-( I wish I still had it, especially since now its worth hundreds of dollars. At least I still have my Third Censored and Roll album, the West German version of the Third Reich and Roll. Still in perfect condition.




The first time I saw the Residents perform was at the Barrymore Theater in Madison Wisconsin in 1990. I arrived early, and was the first person in line that night. When they opened the doors to the theater, I sprinted to the front and center of the Barrymore. Best seat in the house. That night the Residents presented Cube - E (being) The History of American Music in 3 E-Z Pieces. The first piece featured old western cowboy songs. One Resident wore an exaggerated over-sized cowboy hat. A neon fire glowed at center stage while a projected desertscape and evening sky illuminated the backdrop. The other three Residents, cloaked beneath Harry Tuttle-esque disguises, tapped away at their electronique instruments . Black slave songs were the theme in the second set. The third and final set featured Elvis as a fulfillment, or personification of cowboy and black rhythm. In the end, the space-age Elvis is made insignificant by the British invasion, specifically the Beatles. At least that's what Zoroaster said.

I didn't see the Residents again until 1997, when Mighty Mo purchased tickets for the Halloween show at the Fillmore, for our anniversary. I was impressed by projected images onto a large balloon on stage. Brilliant idea! Clam rockers, Primus, and fellow Residents fans, must have liked the idea too because they incorporated the concept for their own stage.

A Simple Song - Ralph Viddy - Buy or Die!
I must have been one of the first people to order this fancy NEW Ralph Records Video.

When it arrived in the mail, it was a simple TDK video cartridge featuring seven different Ralph viddys. Five different bands, including the Residents.

The cover-art consisted of basic black ink on a 81/2X11 white paper-board. I carefully cut out the video cover, and with Elmers Glue, affixed it to the vhs box (included). Crafty!
The fancified package was complete.


These videos were a great alternative to the trendy commercial music being played on MTV.

The Residents have released lots of other videos over the years. Millions of them in fact. In May 2001, My son and I had the opportunity to see the Residents right here in Santa Cruz, Ca, at the Rio Theater. As usual, the Residents presented a unique and unprecedented concept for their stage show. The Icky Flix Tour featured the Residents playing live on stage as their familiar videos were projected onto a large screen above the band. Not long after the tour, the Residents released the Icky Flix DVD, which featured lots of snazzy Residents videos that could be played with the option of listening to old familiar songs, or newly recorded versions of the same tunes. Sparkling idea! I'll take two. Mm... Salty!

Ralph

* Michael G's show preceded I'm So Bored. His show featured sixties and seventies rock. This was back when KRCL was located above the old Blue Mouse Theater, next to Cosmic Aeorplane. Jon and I paid Michael G a visit one evening. He played Cucamonga by Zappa/Beefheart at our request.

** My friend Squirrelly's cousin, Jamie, who lived in Colorado Springs, Colorado, stayed with Squirrelly's family every summer. She returned home with Fingerprince. Jamie reported to me that she had played it for a friend, and that they both laughed at it. What can you expect from a couple of ignoramiatic metalheads?
*** Mr. Collin's program was originally called Dead Air, but was later changed to Beyond The Zion Curtain. When Brad sold out and began playing speed metal exclusively, Jon and I began to pester him by requesting Eskimo every time his program was on. Years later, I asked Collins about his Eskimo album, and he told me that someone had stolen it. He may have assumed that his taunters were the thieves. He assumed wrong