Sunday, March 17, 2024

Ghosts and Galena: Ioana Vreme Moser, Vancouver New Music event, March 16, 2024

Note: since initial publication, these piece has been augmented with quotes from Dan Kibke and Alex Varty. 

What was that Nietzsche quote...? From Twilight of the Idols, I think: "Once and for all, there is a great deal that I do not wish to know. Wisdom sets bounds even to knowledge" 

Don't tell that to Ioana Vreme Moser (that's the Vancouver New Music page; her official page is here. Photograph of her below by me). 

At the end of last night's Vancouver New Music event with Moser, I turned to a friend whom I'd stumbled across -- after receiving a last-minute invite out -- and remarked that one thing I had learned beyond a doubt from the evening was that even basic information that is fundamental to actually understanding the world, no matter how simply, coherently and cogently it is laid out, can be extraordinarily intimidating if a) there is enough of it, b) you feel like you should know a great deal of it already; and yet c) all of it is totally new to you.

He said something back like, "I'm glad it's not just me." 

Like, take a minute: what does a circuit board inside your cell phone look like? What minerals are used to manufacture each circuit? How many different minerals are there in your phone? Which of them are common? Which are rare earths? (What's a rare earth? I think there might be a rock band with that name, but that's the only association I have with the term. The band was not actually discussed last night, but rare earths were briefly explained, though I cannot replicate that explanation now. Incidentally, Alex Varty, on reading this, notes, "for some intriguingly fictionalized background on rare-earth mining and DIY electronics, I highly recommend the film Neptune Frost!"). And what about the material conditions under which the materials in question were harvested? Which of them come from conflict zones? What is the history of their mining? How bad were conditions in those mines? How does this connect to the history of the country (were the mine operators a colonizing force? Were the actual miners indigenous labour? Were they slaves? If they were paid, how much? What were the mined items used for by said colonizers, at the time?). Are these minerals toxic in one way or another? If so, how dangerous are they? What are the effects on miners, if particulate from the mine gets inhaled? What if it gets in the water supply? 

You will be trying to process the answers to these questions, which, if you are like me, you have never even thought to ask before; but though each bit of information is clearly and cogently delivered, you will find that before these answers are firmly fixed in your understanding, that Moser has moved on, and you find yourself learning about the history of lead pipes, going back to the Roman Empire. Did you know once that people used to use lead as a sweetener, because added to liquid, it has a sweet quality? It was a bad idea.

And did you know that lead is actually just really old uranium that has lost its potency? What does that mean, exactly? (Who was it that said that if you really know something, you can explain it in simple terms? They might have been talking about Moser; she has done an amazing amount of homework to be able to do what she does). 

The above captures maybe twenty minutes worth of material as Moser works her way forward from the first time one of the substances in question was mined (the gateway to her presentation was galena) to its use in communications technology. Shortly thereafter, you're learning about how radio frequencies work, Moser connecting the dots for you. How do we get from mined lead to a communicated signal? (How do sound waves travel when there is no wire to act as a conduit?). How does any of this material we take utterly for granted actually work? 

Moser is not intending to make her presentation into a shamefest, does not set out to taunt you with your ignorance, and unlike me, above, poses no overt questions of her audience; she just tells you the information, guiding you along from one answer to the next, to questions you could have and should have asked before (but didn't). But regardless of her lucidity and lack-of-intent to one-up or shame the audience, to some extent, shame was still an effect for me, noted and analyzed as I became aware of it, and thus dispelled, but nonetheless briefly extant: a blush of embarrassment about how ignorant I am. Seeing how clearly Moser understands her stuff makes it feel like you should have thought about it yourself a bit, given that she's talking about technology you use every day. 

Know here that normally, my actual understanding of how technology works runs only a few notches above the level of a cargo cult. It might as well be ghosts and magic. And I had done no homework; I was out thrifting under the influence of an Edison Jolt when I got my invitation to last night's event, and didn't actually intend to keep it, at first; it was by surprise that, as the event started, I was not far from the Annex, still out and about (I had thought to be home by that point, watching Frankenhooker, in fact). But I learned, as I tried to keep my mind on task, that at some point, ignorance becomes almost a self-defense strategy, because it just seems like every question one asks leads to an answer that touches on five more questions you do not know the answer to, some of which may actually have historical, political, environmental, or ethical implications; it will also just be so time-consuming, so mind-altering, so potentially life-complicating, to make it all make sense... How is the sausage made? (no, she did not go into sausages; I'm speaking figuratively). 

By the half-hour mark of her presentation, Moser had completely overwhelmed me. I contemplated myself as Homer Simpson, dreaming of a donut, drooling. Occasionally my mind wandered (text the wife, also out, but not with me: is the cat with the neighbour?). Occasionally I just lost myself in the projected images and produced sounds. But the presentation was to some extent only the tip of things; Moser had actually come to town to guide other people in a multi-day workshop, a workshop which really is the work (to paraphrase something she said), going (we presume) into still greater depth on the matters discussed with the participants, and helping them in building their own circuits that can be used to generate... radio signals? Was that what was being generated? It all connected somewhere to radios, and causing oscillations... umm... 

Dan Kibke, one of the participants -- his hands are pictured above, and he's in a few of these photos -- elaborates:

the device built in the workshop it's technically a crude oscillator using a diy makeshift transistor that relies on early principles of radio. If you want to get really technical it's a "zinc negative resistance oscillator" as explored by Nyle Steiner where Ioana took her practical jumping off point from.


He is much more well known for his other work in music technology with the invention of the EVI (electronic valve instrument) and subsequent EWI (electronic wind instrument) instruments and controllers which were designed to allow trumpet and wind players a familiar interface to play synthesizers with instead of a keyboard. The technology was first developed in the 70s and later licensed to Akai and Yamaha. He's also produced synthesizers such as the Synthacon and a modular.

https://www.patchmanmusic.com/NyleSteinerHomepage.html

If it was more of a talk than a performance, there was a sort of performative aspect to the end of the night, when all the workshop attendants joined Moser to produce sounds in "concert" with one another. One of them had invited me (thanks, Dan!). People prodded at things with things, and sounds were produced, with some participant's handmade radios (synthesizers? sound generators? circuit boards?) working better than others to make things oscillate, and some not working at all... 

As I joined people on the floor to wander between performers, I reflected on my reaction: "Maybe I'm just ashamed of my stupidity?" Some people asked questions of the "performers," but typically, not knowing where to start, my grasp of the fundamentals of what I was seeing and what it meant so tenuous, despite having had it all explained at some length in advance, I just kept my mouth shut... 

I wonder what Moser makes of the barriers that make any of what she said less than common knowledge. Are we in some way, ala Nietzsche, afraid to ask these questions? Is there a conspiracy among the figurative sausage-makers to discourage these questions? Were there any barriers she faced, herself, getting from one point to another -- lessons she had to learn about our protective bubbles of ignorance, in bursting them? Were any of the new understandings in any way threatening to her? Why is it more frightening to know how the technology in your pocket works (and where its constituent parts come from) than it is to be dependent on technology you don't understand at all? And how has her work changed her consumption of technology?

It was a phenomenally useful inquiry. I do not know the content of her website, but I would hasten there to explore it, if this is of interest, because I am sure there is a lot more to be learned there than here. Made for an unexpected, fascinating night out. Note: I did ask her if she has any thoughts of offering her workshop virtually, but there are challenges, as part of what she does involves getting hands-on with people's circuitry. So people who attended were fortunate indeed. 

It was nice to see Heather and Giorgio of Vancouver New Music again, too! It was the first Vancouver New Music event I had seen in years, and a fascinating and provocative one. There is more in this series to come -- from computer sentience with a (decaying) twist to hand-built African analogue synths with parts scavenged from computer repair shops (sounds like the film Neptune Frost might actually be good "advance homework" for that... hm). Both nights will doubtlessly feature artist talks as compelling as this evening's. Check them out...?

Friday, March 15, 2024

Of Night Court, Pet Blessings, TWO cool garage sales, and a few different bats

Note: a previous version mistakenly said Night Court would be touring the west coast, but the graphic I found was from last year! They are doing no such thing. Sorry! 


Hola, Night Court fans -- there is news! Some of this is not quite ready to be broken yet, but my favourite recent Vancouver band -- a tuneful lo-fi power-pop/ punk band previously the subject of blog ravings here and here -- have a show coming up May 1st at the Red Gate, to mark the release of a split 7" with Portland's the Dumpies as well as Tall Mary and Math Bat. There is a bran new, very fun video that has been made for one song on said 7", which I have had a peek at, but is is all still kinda top-secret til April 1st. The vid is partially shot in Mexico and is every bit as colourful as, say, "Surfing Iona;" there are also some riffs on and props from Night Court's video for "Titanic," so those wanting to be on the inside of the in-jokes should go here

Lots of weird cell phone toys, too. I don't think any are actual vintage phones. But perhaps I give too much away...

There is also Pet Blessings and Emilor Jayne news! Pet Blessings, who I have long wanted to revisit since getting enthusiastic about Night Court, also have a gig coming up, and a mini-tour. The first show is on March 21st, at Green Auto, just three days before the Selina Martin/ Tony Bardach/ Minimalist Jug Band gig I am helping with (some backstory on that here; more to come). Emilor is even more dynamic as a frontperson and lead vocalist than she is as a drummer; I enjoy her drumming, but you get to see the full force of her personality when she's singing. I am very much looking forward to this get (next Thursday at Green Auto, with Stories End and Spectra opening, neither of whom I know). Then they go east!

There will also be a garage sale, as Emilor and (if I've got this right) her partner (am I allowed to say who? I din't check but watch this vid that I shot last weekend for a clue; Emilor pops up!) are being forced to downsize and are going to have a ton of stuff for sale! The Facebook Marketplace listing describes a "huge moving sale of multiple families! Clothes, Book, Furniture, Records, Kids Stuff, LEGO, Art, So much stuff!!!" -- Emilor describes it as a "collection overflow." This is going to be cooler than your average garage sale, folks. 


So that's fun, but, uh, wait, there's more. I won't provide individual Facebook links -- but if you go to the Rickshaw homepage and scroll down, you will see that there a series of four 15th anniversary shows, which involve both Pet Blessings (playing June 15th) and Night Court (June 22nd) and a HOST of other bands (including Tony Bardach's main band, the Pointed Sticks; Night Court had to bow out of a past show opening for them and the Avengers because Dave got COVID, so I'm happy to get a second chance to see them play there). More on that later -- plans are a-cooking. I have seen eleven of the sixteen bands performing and have interviewed members of at least six of them (have I ever interviewed Black Wizard? Not sure!). 


And while it has no direct bearing on Night Court or Pet Blessings, there is ANOTHER garage sale happening in New Westminster that is going to be a killer, I think: Richard Chapman of Northern Electric is also doing a moving sale mega-purge, which started today and also continues through the weekend. He's had a "busy, busy first hour" but I think there will still be some very cool stuff left, given the photo he has posted. He's asked FB friends to DM him for his address (if you are not his FB friend you might have to request a friendship in order to make sure your message does not get spamfiltered by FB but I hope you can figure it out!). 

A final note: Night Court are, I think, going to heed my request to play "What's is it Like to be a Bat, Man?" at that Dumpies split release, which I have never heard them do live, which should be quite piquant with a band called Math Bat on the bill. But I must tag on some bat news of my own: NO FUN and their label Atomic Werewolf will be dropping a new single on March 18th of a song I wrote the lyrics for, "If I was a Bat." David M. first performed this song on March 18th, seven years ago, AT MY WEDDING to Erika Lax, where M. was best man; there is a whole complex backstory to this that I will not go into here, but it delights and touches both Erika and I that David and the fine folks Atomic Werewolf -- more on whom here -- have conspired to officially release a version of the song for our seventh anniversary.  So be sure to check in on March 18th on the Atomic Werewolf bandcamp page. I think there is something involving some mega-celebrity being released that same day, but I'm there for the bats. 

(I see superb groundwork for a future benefit for bat conservation in BC being laid here). 

Eep eep eep eep, eep eep eep. 



A Tale of Two Gig Posters: a Selina Martin / Tony Bardach / Minimalist Jug Band gig, behind the scenes

I can't find Erika's fucking glue sticks. 

It is 4:38 AM as I write this. I got out of bed a) to pee, b) to adjust my CPAP mask straps, which had come loose, and because I figured I would, while awake, c) wrap her anniversary present (a 1992 Charles van Sandwyk); and could d) creatively and quietly amend some gig posters for an event I am helping promote while she slept. The first three items are taken care of,  but my plans have been otherwise foiled by the complexity of her art supply area. Her studio space is not quite on the level of Francis Bacon's...


...but, y'know, it's nowhere near as orderly as MY stuff. If you wanted, say, to find my Goddo records, there is a G section on the shelf of the rock area that is easy enough to locate. Movies are another matter, organized by genre or country or filmmaker, or sometimes even actor -- because, you know, I have several Kevin Bacon movies, for instance, most of which are not directed by auteurs, but can still be grouped together, so I don't have to be going, "Now where the fuck did I put Stir of Echoes?" (I have no section for Richard Matheson adaptations), though where I do have movies Bacon is in by a filmmaker I admire and/or recognize as an auteur (Greg McLean, say), it's in the filmmaker section. 

No connection between Francis Bacon and Kevin Bacon should be inferred. 



(And yes, you are right, film fan, Kevin Bacon is not actually IN Chattahoochee, but Gary Oldman is, and Gary Oldman is in Criminal Law, which DOES have Kevin Bacon, and Oldman has no section of his own; it makes sense to ME, anyway).

(I may have to go move Chattahoochee closer to Criminal Law now).  

Sometimes more than one system of organization applies: my small selection of anime is kept in the animation section, along with The Plague Dogs and The Iron Giant and Paranorman; this section is nowhere near the live-action Japanese movies, but the Japanese anime discs have their own subsection, and the Miyazaki movies are grouped together within that subsection, too, a cluster (Miyazaki) within a cluster (anime) within a cluster (animation). The point is, the logic is more complicated than mere alphabetization, but it could be learned and understood, if one were interested. Some randomness exists, requiring memorization -- like, there is no good reason why my John Boorman section is just above my Kevin Bacon section -- but both are on the "mainstream American films" shelves (I know that Boorman is British but there is no space in the British section and, like, just how British are Point Blank and Deliverance? By the same logic I could put Chattahoochee next to Threads in the British cinema section, but Mick Jackson is not an auteur, by my reckoning, and the two films have nothing much else in common). 

By contrast, in Erika's art space -- well, obviously, there is no G section (for "glue stick") among the piles and drawers of art supplies. (She would be mortified to have them documented photographically, so I'll just leave you with Francis Bacon's studio image instead). I can find multiple roles of Scotch tape, but apparently her art supplies are not organized by attributes such as "sticky things;" there are no glue sticks with them. If there is a "small cylindrical object" section, I cannot see it. There may be, somewhere, an actual glue drawer, but having looked for it in vain for fifteen minutes, I have chosen instead to give up in the fear that, in fact, there is no order at all. Jordan Peterson would have things to say about Erika's artspace. But in truth, there probably is some order, and were Erika awake, she would find the glue sticks without much hesitation. It may just be that (trying to keep the lights out and noise down, so she can go on sleeping in the other room), the order is simply not one I can perceive at present:  "How was I supposed to know that the John Boorman movies are above the Kevin Bacon movies? Kevin Bacon isn't in any John Boorman movies! And look, why is Chattahoochee here? What's that about?" 

Anyhow, suffice to say, my plans are foiled! 

All of this relates to a gig you should go to at Green Auto on March 24th (next Sunday; you have no conflicts, I hope; that's the Eventbrite link, but also see here for the FB event page). Ontario-to-France transplant (and Dead Bob contributor) Selina Martin is headlining, coming in from Europe on a tour of the west coast; if you don't know her music, I suggest starting here, which is a charming video for a genius piece of Pixies-esque, power-poppy songcraft from her 2010 album Disaster Fantasies; it makes more sense to begin there and move forward to the more sophisticated, artful, multi-layered music of her most recent album than it does to start with the latter and move back (I felt I approached her in the wrong direction, myself). My past big interview with her is here, when I was still more or less a novice to what she does. She's great.


I haven't gotten to my gig poster problem yet, but I should also mention that Tony Bardach's newest iteration of Slowpoke and the Smoke is playing that gig, which is different enough from previous iterations that it was almost not going to be called that (it is less of Slowpoke's goofy fuck band doo-wop and more a quirky, musically varied, but more fully-realized "outsider pop" oddment that seems like something Shimmy Disc might release in their heyday). In the tradition of simplifying overlong fuck band names, removing, say, the Radicos from Los Radicos Popularos, "Slowpoke" almost ended up in the cutting room, until Tony realized -- I think -- that a band called "the Smoke" was not necessarily search-engine optimized, unless you were looking for something to inhale. And brand recognition is important too! 

By the way, my not so big, somewhat old, but still fun Slowpoke and the Smoke interview is here

Where this gets complicated is that -- y'see, the Minimalist Jug Band was not originally on this bill. Those of you who have seen the early-iteration gig posters for this at Red Cat, Video Cat, Carson Books or Audiopile know that a band called Yep was going to be playing, but -- after those posters were printed, Yep had to drop off; something came up (yes, variants on "Nope on Yep," "Yep is now Nope," etc., got said). But in helping with arranging the gig -- I was the guy who actually put Selina and Tony together! -- I had chatted with Al Mader, the Minimalist Jug Band, who some of you know from the LAST gig I had a hand in, with John Otway at LanaLou's.  


Al Mader at LanaLou's, onstage, with a cast of notables, including John Otway (standing at the pillar), and on the table to the right, ARGH!!, Hamm, Ed Hurrell, and Judith Beeman. I almost called her Judith "Back of a Car" Beeman but the Big Star reference is lost). 

But someone else (forget who) suggested Yep, who seemed a fine fit, and someone said yep to Yep before I even got round to suggesting Al; hence the posters getting printed initially with Yep on them. Al was fine with it, and happily displayed a Selina Martin/ Slowpoke and the Smoke/ Yep poster on the wall of the bookstore where he works - because he knows Selina, and was happy to have just been asked; I think I even said to him, "Maybe if something happened to Yep, you could still get on the bill?"

This has come to pass. So here I am, with 20-odd gig posters with Yep prominently displayed on them, as well as 20-odd gig reprints with the Minimalist Jug Band on them, because he is now the opener. Then in popping by the bookstore, I see that the resourceful Al has used stickies on the gig poster that I had already given him to put his own name over Yep's.


...which is hilarious. I took the photo just to show Selina and Tony, then realized: wait a sec, I could print this out, cut it up, and stick it on the already-printed posters over Yep's name! This would double the supply of posters I could put up and make for some amusing storytelling (which you are now in the thick of; I hope you had fun). 

Which is exactly what I came out here to do, except I've only got to the glue stick phase. So now the trick is just to wait ONE MORE HOUR -- not even! -- for Erika to wake up and get her to show me where the glue sticks live. 

Then I can go back to bed for awhile (meantime, I'm going to go put Chattahoochee next to Criminal Law, because that's going to bug the hell out of me). 

Post-script: 

Erika (who, alas, was awakened by the light from my computer screen even though I am in a distant room) quickly and easily located the glue sticks before going to work: "They're right here!" I was sleepy enough, making breakfast, that I accidentally reached for a Kirkland container of garlic instead of a Kirkland container of cinnamon and put a shake of garlic in the French toast; I had to start over, despite many Facebook friends saying I should have just rolled with it (Erika would disagree). I have now a double-helping of printed posters, a borrowed tape gun, and a plan. 

Oh, and I talked to Tony Bardach about the new project. More to come on that. Still haven't moved my Chattahoochee, though. 




Thursday, March 14, 2024

From the Violent Femmes to John Cage, by way of Sun Ra: vintage Brian Ritchie interview (from 2009) and more

The article has been mildly revised, on checking in with the band: they will be playing both albums both nights! (So I guess I'm going to see both albums twice!). The presale code is no longer relevant and the prices have gone up for the first of the two nights (when people are perhaps assuming the first album will be featured), but there are still tickets in the $93 range for the second night, and you will still hear that first album AND their second, whichever night you go! 

I have a long history with the Violent Femmes. Their debut album, released  in 1983 when I was 15, was in fact the first album of theirs I purchased, making them (like Nomeansno) one of the rare bands I have followed more or less from the start, at least recording-wise (I never saw them busking in their housecoats in Milwaukee, or however that story goes, but my first Femmes album was their first Femmes album, and I owned them all in sequence up to Why Do Birds Sing?, which was about when I jumped ship from rock altogether -- I didn't stop following the Femmes so much as plunge headlong into free jazz and ignore most rock music entirely, shortly after that album came out). As I recall, I had read about that first LP in Rolling Stone, found it in some record store or other, and immediately fell in love; no one ever gave voice to teen angst like Gordon Gano, and goddamn, Brian Ritchie's basslines were right up there with Rob Wright's. 

Friends who I played that album for looked at me like I was crazy: "Why are you listening to this whiny crap?" But even people who thought that first LP annoying, as I recall, started to see the light with the "Ugly/ Gimme the Car" single, also released in 1983; I had it on 7", I think bought at Zulu Records (CDs had only just started to be made, at this point, so this was no bonus cut). 

I did manage to see the Femmes once, at Lollapalooza, on August 28, 1991 -- where I was disappointed by Rollins, impressed by Fishbone, terrified by Body Count, and passed out under the merch tent for the Butthole Surfers (I had slept poorly the night before and had tried to counter my exhaustion with something I'd been told was acid, but I think was mostly strychnine, so it didn't wake me up so much as cramp me up; I remember thinking that in my twisted state of mind, I was in no shape for the Butts, though I dimly remember hearing "Human Cannonball" in the background as I snoozed). But I was standing in a sea of people when the Femmes performed. I remember that they did "American Music," and remember that they amusingly acknowledged the weather -- standing there at the front of the stage, deLorenzo, Gano, and Richie, lined up in a row, none behind the other -- with a performance of "I Hear the Rain." It looked a bit like this, though this isn't the Seattle show. I don't remember much else from that day.

My favourite Femmes album remains their second, Hallowed Ground, which is a stranger, darker, deeper record than their first (check out a recent live performance of "Country Death Song," which I knew years before I first heard "The Ballad of Hollis Brown," its most obvious predecessor, at least in terms of relatively recent American popular music; there may be earlier murder ballads out there that the Femmes were aware of, but I wasn't. They basically introduced me to the concept of the murder ballad, with this song). It's also the first time I, and maybe you too, heard John Zorn

I also interviewed Brian Ritchie once, whose solo album The Blend is also a favourite of mine; check out "Alphabet," for starters. The Femmes were on hiatus at that point, with Ritchie suing Gano over his having licensed "Blister in the Sun" to Wendy's. I reached out to him on Myspace (remember them?) and sent him some questions, mostly focused around his support for Eugene Chadbourne, in fact (Eugene was coming to town at that time; the Femmes' rhythm section had backed him on the album Corpses of Foreign War and I thought having an interview with Ritchie would help get people out to Doc Chad's show; I did the same thing with Victor Krummenacher). Hard to believe this was 15 years ago... I have not read it since it was published. If I remember, the issue of The Skinny it appeared it had a kind of unusual, unimpressive format compared to what they usually did, so it may not have caught all that much attention when it came out. 


From the Violent Femmes to John Cage, by way of Sun Ra: Catchin’ Up With Brian Ritchie

By Allan MacInnis

In August 2007, Violent Femmes bassist/ musical director Brian Ritchie filed suit against Femmes songwriter/ vocalist/ guitarist Gordon Gano, who had sold the rights to use “Blister in the Sun” in a Wendy’s commercial. Ritchie’s angry statement about Gano/ Warner Brothers’ “dubious or in this case disgusting uses of our music,” made before he filed suit, can be read on the Femmes’ Wikipedia page. Wondering about the suit has been a two year niggling itch that I finally decided to scratch by way of an interview. Unfortunately, when asked about this ongoing situation, Ritchie can only say that he is “not really at liberty to discuss” it; he tells me the band is on “hiatus,” which beats hearing they’ve broken up.

Sadly, there are also no plans to follow up the terrific Femmes Live In Iceland archival release of a couple of years ago. “I am not really focussed on exploiting the Femmes legacy at this point,” Ritchie explains via email from his home in Tasmania, Australia. “CD releases are also kind of pointless now that the record industry has collapsed. The main reason for making new CDs would be creative.” At the moment, Ritchie’s creativity finds expression in instrumental music. “To me there is more freedom for interpretation there. Lyrics tie you down.”

One of Ritchie’s most recent CDs is his 2006 recording of one of John Cage’s most beautiful pieces, Ryoanji - named for a Zen temple in Kyoto. Ritchie describes it as “a composition for many instruments which can be done solo or overlapping in any combination. [Cage] originally conceived it for shakuhachi” - a Japanese bamboo flute - “but couldn't find someone to perform it, so it was premiered on normal western silver flute. My recording is the first shakuhachi rendition of it,” Ritchie reports. “I'm proud of that. Of course it has been completely ignored by the academic classical scene, but that's to be expected...”

Ritchie has been playing the shakuhachi for about 13 years now, and is now a licensed teacher, given a Japanese professional name, “Tairaku.” “Japanese traditional music is vast,” he writes. “It's a deep well and I enjoy exploring it.”

Ritchie has long been a sonic adventurer, his tastes ranging far beyond the folk-punk pop of the Femmes. “I got into improvised music fairly young,” he explains. “I suppose there were a few rock bands I was into that laid the groundwork, for example Syd Barrett, Velvet Underground and Soft Machine. But almost immediately after getting into those bands I discovered Ornette Coleman and Albert Ayler and it went on from there. There was a good jazz DJ in Milwaukee at the time, Ron Cuzner, who played some of this stuff.” Ritchie says he has had “nice interactions” with Ornette Coleman, Don Cherry,  Steve Lacy, recent jazzfest attendee Sonny Rollins and others, and of course, the Violent Femmes output includes guest appearances by Fred Frith (on The  Blind Leading the Naked) and John Zorn (on Hallowed Ground).

Ritchie also covered Sun Ra’s “Nuclear War,” on his first solo album, 1987’s The Blend - and wrote a song about him, “Sun Ra - Man From Outer Space,” on 1989’s Sonic Temple and Court of Babylon. He saw the bandleader several times and also got to know him. “We did a gig together and he liked my music and said he could hear the Sun Ra influence in it.” As for "Sun Ra - Man From Outer Space," “that is a song Peter Balestrieri and I wrote about him. Sun Ra did an interview on the radio and the DJ played it. Ra said, ‘Oh that's David Ritchie, I love it when the teenagers write about me.’ I was in my late twenties but that was nice. Some of the Arkestra members I bumped into on the elevator said ‘Oh Sunny loves that song, he listens to it repeatedly on the bus.’ Even if it entertained him for a few minutes I'm happy about it.”

This brings us to Eugene Chadbourne, a former Calgary-livin’ draft dodger, early Zorn collaborator, delightfully bugfuck guitar and banjo player, and the only musician I’ve interviewed who cites both Bugs Bunny and Boris Karloff as influences. Brian Ritchie, Femmes’ drummer Victor DeLorenzo, and Femmes collaborator Belestrieri all played on Dr. Chadbourne’s Corpses of Foreign War - the best known Femmes/Chad tie-in, and probably the most fun. “I really like Corpses,” Ritchie tells me. “It's amazing that 20 plus years later it's still musically and politically valid. I would not have predicted that when we made it. But some of the other records we made in New York like Insect and Western Party are also groove thangs” - which you can order direct from Eugene through the House of Chadula, by the way.

Collaborations between Brian and Eugene began when Dr. Chad’s rock band, Shockabilly, “opened up for the Femmes’ at a place called Tut's in Chicago. I was blown away by the weirdness and individuality of Eugene,” Ritchie says. “So I called him up and asked him if he'd like to make a record together.” As of 2009, Ritchie, DeLorenzo, and Chadbourne have played “many shows in the States, Europe and Australia.” “I brought him down as an artist in residence to Tasmania for MONA FOMA” - a “fun” and “radical” festival of which Ritchie is artistic director. “That really got people going. As a result Hobart, Tasmania is probably the city with the highest per capita Dr. Chad fans in the world.”

These days, Ritchie occasionally plays “feral blues rock” with the Tasmanian band Green Mist, and collaborates with Zen Circus, “an excellent Italian rock band with a flair for the absurd. I produced and toured with them in Italy and Australia several times. They are idealists, they helped restore my faith in rock and roll.”

Why relocate to Australia? “My wife and I have always loved Australia and we just decided to move down here and see what it would be like. So far it's been fantastic. It's a great lifestyle here and I doubt I'd move back to the States.” Ritchie reports that he is “having all kinds of wonderful musical experiences. I don't want to reveal some of them just yet due to losing the element of surprise, but I am collaborating with some of the best musicians in the southern hemisphere on projects.”

Those unaware of Brian Ritchie’s solo output should rush to eBay, where his OOP 1980’s SST CDs are available on the cheap. His recent recordings are also available online. Meanwhile, keep an eye on future Skinnies for a chat with Eugene Chadbourne; while there is no telling when Brian Ritchie will next make Vancouver, Dr. Chad will play the Cobalt on Fake Jazz Wednesday on August 19th. 

***********************

End vintage interview! Doc Chad is NOT coming to town, but this time, Brian Ritchie is, with the band he is most famous for, the Violent Femmes. Tickets for night one here; tickets for night two, here. Don't wait -- these shows will sell out (though take heart, if you can't get tickets for the show that showcases the first album, the second is equally amazing, if less well-known!). 

Post-script: a happy discovery on vinyl at Neptoon (I've only had it on CD for years and didn't much figure I would get it on wax again, but there it was, for a mere $12!).   

Friday, March 08, 2024

Powerclown: Not So Scary After All (Show review, March 7th, 2024, Heavy Wood / Hollywood Theatre)

All photos in this post are by Allan MacInnis. Nothing on this blog is to be used without permission. Comments by unknown parties will not be read or published. Thanks! See my interview with Matt Fiorito (and Blind Marc) here: https://alienatedinvancouver.blogspot.com/2024/03/matt-fiorito-and-blind-marc-interviews.html (and see Matt, AKA Sketchy Clown, tonight with the Dayglos)


Okay, so I discovered something last night. I think I may have been mildly afraid of Powerclown. 

Can't say whether that is due to a slight, unconscious case of coulrophobia or a sense that the band was on some level unwholesome, debauched, and dangerous, but I have actually, despite countless opportunities, avoided them quite deliberately... until last night. 

I mean, it's not because I don't like Iron Maiden. I've seen Maiden twice, even: once on the Piece of Mind tour, in my youth, and once on the Legacy of the Beast tour, a few years ago with Erika (I had the opportunity to get us comps and thought it important that she not miss the chance; she had fun, too!). I do not care about Iron Maiden the way some people might, and I think I have only two of their seventeen studio albums on vinyl (and maybe two others on CD)... but I like'm, sure!   


Maybe having just finished AHS Cult -- in which a Trump-loving posse of killer clowns terrorize a community -- has put Powerclown in perspective, or maybe my brush with mortality and cancer has made me more inclined to lick whatever honey I find on the cliffside, but whatever my reasons for having avoided Powerclown previously, I can say only this: they were fucking dumb

No, no, not Powerclown. They were quite witty, if in a faux-dumb way. No: my reasons for having avoided them were dumb. Let me illustrate just how menacing and unwholesome Powerclown were with an example of the level of humour at work last night at the Hollywood: at one point, Sketchy dedicated a song to "Kaopectate and immodium." 

That song proved to be "Running Free." Get it? (They're anti-diarrhea medications). That's essentially a Dad joke, fer fecksake. I bet some of these clowns ARE Dads:


So menacing, pshaw; Powerclown are (is?) very (very) silly, in the most delightful, liberating way possible. They both mock and yet joyously celebrate this thing we all love called music; it is not possible to parse the distinction. The singer, whose clown persona is named "Blaze Daily," jumped around from foot to foot, punctuating the guitars with honks of a bicycle horn and occasionally affecting a Bronxish accent. He began the night by releasing a garbage bag full of balloons into the audience (see above), which people delighted in popping throughout the evening. A couple of those balloons had been previously employed, before the band took the stage, when Blaze was wandering the Hollywood (AKA the Heavy Wood, for the purposes of the Invisible Orange series) with giant, ridiculous balloon-boobs; what with the boobs, the gender-neutral clown costume, and the pigtails, on first glimpse I actually was not entirely sure what kind of gear this clown was packing, though a telltale glimpse of male pattern baldness ultimately gave it away, when I caught a glimpse of the back of his head. 


I also found myself wondering about some of the clown shoes. Are these, like, Amazon clown shoes, or something more custom, more homemade?* 


Blaze -- Denton -- was very deliberately non-clown-shoe'd, electing to wear red sneakers, the better to jump around in. I support this decision and marvel that anyone COULD perform with clown shoes on. Maybe they're more comfortable than they look?


Blaze had various silly bits of stage patter during the night, talking something about how the band were well-qualified to offer moral instruction in the dangers of flying too high (referencing their other singer's arrest at Narita airport in Japan, apropos of "The Flight of Icarus;" Dan's bust -- his arrest, that is, not any balloon boobs he might have sported -- also popped up in "Running Free," with a line about spending the night in a Japanese jail). 

It was fun, too, to contemplate just how stunning Matt Fiorito is as a musician. It's harder to catch this seeing him on bass or drums -- which are more supportive things by nature. As a guitarist, though -- cripes, Sketchy is hot. 

By the time I ducked out, Powerclown had in fact played my very favourite Maiden songs ("The Flight of Icarus," "Aces High" and "The Trooper"). I had also learned -- not being the deepest devotee -- that Iron Maiden in fact have a wicked song from their early years about "The Phantom of the Opera," which clearly informed some of Powerclown's merch, previously mentioned on this blog. So I learned a Maiden song which I had missed previously. They also did covers of other early Maiden that I do not know so well, "Wrathchild" and "Iron Maiden." I captured MOST of the latter tune on video. Has anyone ever uttered the words, "Scream for me, Kitsilano" before, I wonder? They seem slightly incongruous. 

Then my battery died. 



As they kicked into "The Trooper," maybe eight songs into their set, it was after 11; with a 45 minute commute ahead from Kits to Metrotown, a desire to stop for food, and a 7am scheduled wakeup, I elected not to wait for a bus and splurged instead on a birthday taxi, wherein I had a chatty ride with an Indian cabbie. At one point, I talked about running across a delightful album of Indian disco, I think called Babla's Non-Stop Disco Dancing Volume 2; I regret to this day not having bought this when I had the chance: 


The cabbie and I also got into an unexpectedly philosophical conversation about the nature of the show I had just seen: were the members of Powerclown actual clowns, or, as the cabbie observed, musicians who dress up as clowns? I mean, I dunno: is there more to being a clown than dressing in a clown suit? ("It's not like you have to go to clown university," I remarked). Or, like, do you have to be professionally employed as a clown to earn the name?  (Can you have "hobby clowns?"). If you've got the shoes, the nose, the makeup... if you entertain people in a clown suit... is that not enough, even if you are playing Iron Maiden songs? What is the difference between a clown playing Maiden song and a musician playing a Maiden song while dressed as a clown...? Am I a butterfly, dreaming I'm a man? 

...I hope the cabbie was amused.


Somewhat to my surprise, openers Tuff Duzt, with Penny, formerly of Red Cat, on drums, did my second-favourite set of the night; I really had fun watching them, despite my being somewhat vexed by the creative misspelling of their name. There are creative misspellings which actually are phonetically more accurate than our own piss-poor spelling system allows, but "Tuff Duzt" is not one of them. 
 

This may get a bit pedantic, but having taken phonetics courses as part of my ESL-teacher training, I can assure you, we are not really making a Z sound when we say the word "dust" (we are, however, really making a Z sound when we talk about, say, the Godz; their stylized spelling is actually an accurate representation of what we are doing, with the -S assimilating to the voiced "d" sound before it; see here for more, and note that there is a similar rule in place for -ed endings, which sometimes sound like "t," sometimes "d," and sometimes "ed," as an extra syllable -- one of many complex things English speakers do instinctively without realizing it). Unlike "Gods," which looks like it should end on an -S sound but actually ends on a -Z, "dust" is, in fact, an phonetically/ orthographically more-or-less correct representation of the sounds we make when we say it; it's the kind of word that someone learning English will have little trouble producing correctly, based on the letters used, compared to, like, "phone," which in spoken form begins with an F sound but which, when spelled, might suggest to someone newly acquainting themselves with our weird spelling rules, or coming from countries with aspirated P's, as rhyming with "mahone" (note: as creative misspellings go, I have no trouble with Kidz Help Fone, who are at least misspelling on the side of the actual sounds made. They have a gig with the AK-747s later this month, by the by. But "Kidz Help Fone" is actually how we say those words; if we spelled phonetically, that's what it would look like!). 

Vexed, I even checked with Penny last night, at the merch table: "We're not supposed to try to pronounce this as 'duzzzt' or something, are we?"

We are not.

But I liked Tuff Duzt a lot. They embraced the kind of goofiness of metal in a vintage 80s way that made them an ideal support for Powerclown. Rob Halford would approve of their fashion choices, and there was a playfulness in their retro-ness that wasn't really there for the somewhat "deathier" Fearbirds and only marginally present in thrashers Terrifier. Who I think might once have been called Skull Hammer; I may have even caught them under that name at Funkys, a long time ago (I certainly had their CD). 


If Fearbirds (who I got no vid of, sorry) were a bit on the "serious, intense" side for me -- lately I prefer my metal goofy and joyful, or at least possessed of a range of emotions beyond "brutal" -- they did have the best t-shirts, and the best taste in band shirts, of the night (re: the guitarist's cool Bison shirt, above). I'm not really into the whole "name three songs" thing -- it's a strange hobby, going around making people justify their shirt choices -- but I like the plague doctor imagery just fine!


Terrifier had fearsome musicianship and a singer who reminded one, physically, a bit of Ronnie James Dio, but they also weren't quite silly enough for me. It was interesting that I got to get right up close for that set and only got jostled a few times by moshers, so spread out was the pit. In fact, even when Powerclown were playing, I was surprised how un-crowded the floor was; I guess it might be down to it having been a Thursday, and the Hollywood being a pretty big room, but you kind of got the sense that a lot of people were missing out, last night.


Terrifier had pretty cool merch, too, but, like, seriously, "Trample the Weak, Devour the Dead?" Can't we just have a pizza? Great cover art, though, cool logo, and Weapons of Thrash Destruction is an amusing title; surprised not to have seen it before. 



On the other hand, Terrifier's singer had an interesting habit of building up to a statement and then shrieking the conclusion so that it was completely incomprehensible: "How you doing Vancouver, are you ready to BAJKAA-SHAGGA-smoo-CHA!" That happened a few times, so I have no idea what any of their songs were about or what the band might believe; I basically never understood the last six words of any sentence he said. But he had some really great moves, really great charisma, and the band played tight and fast and tunefully, so even though I'm not really a thrasher these days, I liked 'em! 



On the way out, I high-fived Mayo, the Invisible Orange promoter. It was only my second trip to the Hollywood for a show (the first being the Residents, a couple years ago) but the space reminds me quite a bit of my still-favourite live music venue in Vancouver, the Rickshaw, except the neighbourhood is harder to get to, much more yuppified, and way less dodgy (which these days means you won't be walking by people who just might be dead, wondering if you should call 911, which is about where the DTES has gotten to, lately). Alas, cool a room as it is, it doesn't seem to have caught on as much as it might have; so I checked in with Abelardo to ask. Was the sparse attendance a deal killer on future shows? Will there be more "Heavy Wood" to come?

Take heart, music fans, his answer is hopeful indeed, for at least a few more shows! Abelardo (AKA Mayo) writes: 

This is the first of a series of showcases at the Hollywood called Heavy Wood, in which we will showcase local talent. It will happen once per season, so about four in the year: March, June, September, December. For now all presented by The Invisible Orange with support from The Hollywood to open the space for local talent. We hope to find sponsors for more events.

About other gigs we are excited about, well we have a lot on the works this year. Last year was our busiest ever and this one seems to be in a similar route. We are celebrating 15 years of The Invisible Orange and we have a lot of events around that, like Wake at The Rickshaw on March 30, and Unleash The Archers album release shows in Victoria and Vancouver in May.

More from the Invisible Orange on their website. Speaking just as a fan, I hope that regular bookings of the Hollywood continue, and that the "Heavy Wood" phenom catches on, because last night was terrific. 


*Matt Fiorito on Facebook, re: the clown shoes: "I made them."