A Ty Stranglehold Interview on Knife Manual, Angry Snowmans, Silly Killers and the Dwarves: "You've got to temper the serious with the absurd"

NOTE: MORE TICKETS HAVE BEEN ADDED to the Dwarves show, and there will be tickets at the door. (It was "sold out" when I wrote this but now it ain't).

I have seen the Dwarves twice, which is one more time than I've seen a performance by Victoria's Ty Stranglehold (who will be fronting Knife Manual when they open for the Dwarves on December 7th, but who is also the singer of the Angry Snowmans and formerly of the Hoosegow; he will be the subject of the actual interview, below, but first I must do justice to the Dwarves). 

My first Dwarves experience was circa the Blood Guts & Pussy album, in the early 1990s. The band played Vancouver's Cruel Elephant (the Granville location, if that means something to you: there were a few incarnations of that venue). Singer Blag Dahlia had long hair hiding his face and closed the set by kicking glasses and bottles into the audience, while guitarist HeWhoCannotBeNamed was naked except for boots and an bag over his head. The band played for only about fifteen or twenty minutes, but that might have involved fifteen or twenty songs, with their fiercest tunes, like "Fuck You Up and Get High," clocking in at around 40 seconds. It was terrifying, memorable, and completely satisfying -- perfect for its violent concision -- though I'm glad I wasn't sitting close enough to get hit with broken glass. Note to self: if you get up close to the Dwarves, you do so at your own risk. 

(Note: that's a 2012 gig poster)

The band was nothing like that when they played Fortune Sound Club, the next time I saw them, some 20 years later. HeWho was either absent or clothed. Blag had short hair. They played a fullsome set of much longer, poppier punk -- my favourite song on the album they were touring, 2011's The Dwarves Are Born Again, is "I Masturbate Me" -- which was particularly relevant, in that I also am a "Catholic escapee," as the rhyme goes, but not especially frightening (note: somewhere I have a tape where I talk with Blag about jerking off, apropos of that song, but I'm not going to rush to transcribe it. He also talks about being somewhat disappointed to discover that all the girls backstage at a Motorhead event were hired local strippers, some of whom he knew, uh, well. He presents as a shamelessly good-natured reprobate -- a reprobate with standards -- and will be doing a solo acoustic event the next day at LanaLou's. I think Ralph Champagne is actually his alias for that project; see here for a taste, and here for the event page).  

Dwarves by James Farrell, Blag top left

Alas, thinking things were safer now, that night at the Fortune Sound Club some dozen years or so ago, I made the mistake of getting right up front, not realizing that Blag (who has enormous feet; we'd actually talked in the interview about how both he and Tesco Vee of the Meatmen had, like, size fifteen shoes) would spend much of the night diving into the pit, which more than once involved my getting kicked about the head and face -- not deliberately, not particularly painfully, but when you're right up front and the singer leaps over your head to ride the wave, a size fifteen shoe is hard to fucking avoid, you know? Note to self #2: if you get up close to the Dwarves, you do so at your own risk. 

I guess I'm less likely to get kicked in the head at the acoustic gig, eh?

I have not yet seen Knife Manual, the new band of Ty Stranglehold -- opening for the Dwarves at the Waldorf on December 7th -- but odds are, if you're a Vancouverite, you haven't either, as they've never played Vancouver before! Stranglehold's other band, Angry Snowmans, has, and marked my first encounter with Stranglehold as a frontman last year, though I'd previously interacted with him in journalistic and punk fan capacities and had other points of intersection. We are both thanked in the liner notes for the Subhumans' Death Was Too Kind, which was a very nice thing of the Subhumans to have done (and speaks more for how considerate Subhumans Canada were than the contributions of either myself or Stranglehold).

And somewhere out there is a signed Chris Walter novel (maybe Welfare Wednesday, which I accidentally sold, thinking the inscription was in Shouts From the Gutter) where Walter, who had been interviewed by both Stranglehold and myself, began his inscription to me, "To Ty." The conversation that ensued involved my saying something like, "What the fuck, Chris, I'm Allan MacInnis -- that's Ty Stranglehold over there" (pointing across the Cobalt), whereupon Chris said something like "Fuck!" and moved to throw the book aside and do another one, whereupon I said, "No, it's okay, just cross it out and fix it, I want a record of this!" (I meant to keep it as evidence of the fuckup, so if you have that copy of the book, I'll buy it back off you!!!). 

Anyhow, the Angry Snowmans -- who rewrite punk classics to have Yuletide themes, like taking D.I.'s "Richard Hung Himself" and turning it into "Richard Hung his Sock," or the Minutemen's "Bob Dylan Wrote Propaganda Songs," and revising it to be "Bing Crosby Wrote Festive Christmas Songs" -- are delightful (you can see them again in Victoria on December 20th, but it's sold out online, so good luck; you could even conceivably see both that show and NO FUN at Christmas on the same weekend; Stranglehold and M. are kindred spirits in their attitude to the holiday season).

Angry Snowmans by Bob Hanham

NO FUN at Christmas by Allan MacInnis

This is by far not all Ty has done: recently, Stranglehold also curated a must-get comp of covers of Texas funk/ punk Big Boys, with written input from the late Gary Floyd (friend of Big Boys' vocalist Biscuit), which you can find online, buy vinyl of on the cheap at Ditch Records, and maybe even get on the merch table.  

But when Stranglehold and I met at a Victoria coffee shop to swap Mamas, this past August,  our conversation mostly focused on Knife Manual. The Dwarves gig had only just been arranged. That show is now sold out, as far as I know; no word if there are tickets to be had at the door. But we'll surely see Knife Manual this way again, and you'll be well prepared! 

We take you now to a Victoria coffee shop around the corner from Ditch Records... 

Knife Manual L-to-R: Tyrone (guitar), Jeff (bass), Donnie (drums), Ty (vocals), Rayce (guitar) 

A: So why the name Knife Manual? 

T: Well, the name is based on a song title from a band in Seattle in the late 70s/ early 80s called the Silly Killers. They were one of the Seattle punk bands; I think Duff from Guns 'n Roses played with them [he did!]. And the funny thing was, I didn't know it was a Silly Killers song for many years, because the band Gas Huffer covered it on a split 7" with Mudhoney. And Mudhoney covered the Angry Samoans [the band from whom Angry Snowmans derive their name, if anyone is unclear on that point!]. I didn't realize at the time it was a cover; I was going, "This is like, my favourite Gas Huffer song ever!" And years later, I found it it wasn't their song, and I heard the original, and went, 'Oh, this band is pretty cool,' y'know?" 

T (continued): And it always stuck out in my head that that would be a really great band name. And I popped it onto my list. I think a lot of people in bands in the digital age have a running list on their phone of potential band names; I know I do, and a lot my friends do. And Knife Manual shot to the top of the list. And then in 2019, when I was looking to start a non-Christmas themed band again -- it had been awhile! -- a few friends of mine were practicing, and they were like, "Hey, do you want to come down and maybe sing or something?" "Cool! Can we call it Knife Manual?" "Yeah, we can." And I had already drawn a logo in my head. And that became our logo...

A: What's the original song about? 

T: It's kind of funny -- which is, I've always thought, an important staple of punk music: there's got to be a level of humour in it. But the guy's lamenting, how does he have any hope of being able to kill anyone if he doesn't have the manual to his knife, basically -- that's a line in the song, "How can I hope to kill without it?" It's stupid but yet hilarious, to me, and stupid and hilarious are two of my tenets, when it comes to punk music. 

A: Did you have contact with anyone in Silly Killers?

T: In a roundabout way. I've got a few friends who are older, Seattle-crowd-type people, and a friend of a friend of mine did play with them, and I think he was involved with Gas Huffer in some way, which is maybe why they covered it at that point. So I'd given my friend in Seattle a Knife Manual patch, and he'd put a photo of it on his social media, and the guy -- he was either in Silly Killers, or associated with Silly  Killers -- was like, "How do you even get one of those?" And I quickly messaged him: "I'll get you one," and sent an extra down to my friend: "Make sure he gets this," y'know? And they were laughing -- I don't know what they assume, but everybody knows exactly where the name came from. 

A: So a confession: I've only ever seen you with Angry Snowmans, so I don't know what the Hoosegow sounded like. I don't know what Knife Manual sounds like! [We were meeting to swap t-shirts and taking advantage of the moment, but I hadn't done homework]. Is there a sonic consistency between bands?

T: A little bit! I guess the consistency for me is lyrically, because that's me being the frontman/ lyricist in both those bands, and obviously the Angry Snowmans too, but obviously we're doing other people's songs in that one, just changing the lyrics, so it's a different style -- though again, "stupidity and humour" is key. I guess musically it's a little bit different. I think with Hoosegow there was a little more of a rock'n roll element to it, an old-school 80's skate-punk kind of element to it. There's a little bit of that in Knife Manual, but Knife Manual leans more into hardcore territory. Like, I kinda go by what people liken us to after they see us play. I often get Poison Idea and Millions of Dead Cops, and a lot of that is maybe vocally, my voice sounds like Dave Dictor or Jerry A, a bit -- we have the same sort of cadence? [I was thinking Stranglehold reminded me of Articles of Faith vocalist Vic Bondi, but I can hear what he means]. Musically, I think we lean into Poison Idea territory. And MDC too, which is good company to keep, as far as I'm concerned. And lyrically, I think with Knife Manual I do touch on a bit more serious topics, but in a humorous way.

Knife Manual by Bob Hanham

A: Like what?

T: I've got a lot of songs dealing with mental health issues. I've been personally, not just through the pandemic but leading up to it as well, really trying to address my anxieties and depressions and learning a bit more about that, and realizing it's not a unique situation. A lot of us here deal with this type of stuff. And I've been kinda vocalizing that a little bit. It's not like an After School Special kind of thing, but it's like -- "Does anyone else lie in bed in the middle of the night, staring at the ceiling and go, "Why is my life so fucked up?" I think a lot of us do, but then we turn around and kind of make a joke about it. We have a song called, "Midnight Anxiety," and whenever I introduce that song, Rayce, the guitar player, is like, "Everyone look under your seat, there's Ativan for everyone!"

But yeah, it's sort of that shared, aging-punk-rock, "we're getting old and we've got issues." And the world's got a lot of issues that aren't being resolved, that keep me awake at night, whether it be the world heating up beyond repair or the fact that Nazis exist still. That kind of stuff really bothers me! So I've taken to singing about it and making dark humour about it...

Knife Manual by Bob Hanham

A: Give me some song titles? What do you do, in terms of the more political stuff?

T: We've got "I Hate Those Guys," with the full title in brackets being "(Nazis) I Hate Those Guys." I kinda stole that from Raiders of the Lost Ark. And it's basically asking, "Why are we even having this in 2024? Everyone can agree that they're bad." But [some people are like], "Well, everybody's got their own point of view." "No! No! That's bullshit!"

Then there's "Bad Timeline," which asks "Where did our society go wrong?" I talk about this a lot, and it also ties into the fact that we also cover a Devo song, which is kind of weird for a scrappy little hardcore band, to play a Devo song, but a lot of the lyrics I've been writing are about devolution, that theory. It's like, humanity kind of peaked and is starting to come around to, like, devolve. I really can see it happening now, every day, every time I look at the news or whatever: We're going backwards somehow again, everyone is backpedalling... that's the kind of stuff I find lives in my head when writing songs. How do you deal with trauma? Or, as an adult, how do you reconcile with your childhood traumas? Can you do anything for it? I deal with it by writing angry hardcore songs! Yelling is therapy, in a way. But then we'll turn around and write a song about hitting the cheese pump at 7-11 and just drowning your Nachos. Which was a running joke on our little tour this summer, about hittin' the cheese pump. And inevitably it ended up with us going to 7-11 after a show and just loading up on plastic 7-11 cheese. And then we're like, "We have to write this song." And we're gonna, because you've got to temper the serious with the absurd. 

Knife Manual by Bob Hanham

A: What Devo song do you do?

T: "Mr. DNA." [Starts at about the 3:50 mark here]

A: Not one I know! Early Devo?

T: It's from their second or third album, I think. They do it as two songs together. "Smart Patrol" goes into "Mr. DNA," and "Mr. DNA" is the fast one, so we didn't do the big, long intro, we just go 1-2-3-4 and we're into it. It's just like all those songs thematically: the human race needs to be saved from itself, kind of thing. It just kinds of fits in. 

A: Any Dwarves stories? Ever play with them?

T: I've never played with the Dwarves. I've seen them a number of times. They've been a band that -- I don't want to say an inspiration, but they're a band I've always liked because they're polarizing. It's like, they take their shtick and they stand by it. And I can appreciate a good shtick! I dress up like Santa and play Christmas punk songs in the winter. And the Hoosegow had a running theme where we all wore jail stripes for a period of time. I'm always down for a shtick. And the Dwarves shtick of being repulsive and disgusting but writing the catchiest songs that will stick in your head...

...It's funny, because my wife and I... they don't have a huge female fan base, but my wife's like, "I hate that I love this band so much! These songs are so catchy..." And you catch yourself singing them out loud sometimes -- it's like, "ooh." I'm excited to play a show with them. 

A: Did Angry Snowmans ever interpret a Dwarves song?

T: No*, mainly because with Angry Snowmans, we set ourselves a limit on the years we would work within. Technically we could probably start moving that forward, now that we've been doing it for so damn long, but before it was like, a "We're not going past 1986" kind of thing. It has been suggested that we bump that up into the 1990s, but then, I'm like, people will be like, "Why don't you do, like, NOFX or Bad Religion?"(Laughs). Actually, that's not true, we do a Bad Religion song, but it's from the 80s, though! I shouldn't use them as a reference.

A: Which Bad Religion song? 

T: "We're Only Gonna Die" The full title is, "We're Only Gonna Die (From Our Own Arrogance), and our version is, "We're Only Gonna Buy (From Our Own Christmas List.

A: I only know Suffer. 

T: This is from before that, from How Can Hell Be Any Worse. Which... I also stole that album cover once for a poster for Angry Snowmans and changed it to, How Can Whoville Be Any Worse.

Angry Snowmans 2023 by Allan MacInnis

A: So who is in Knife Manual? Is there any overlap between Knife Manual and Angry Snowmans? 

T: Yeah, actually, Rayce Shitty plays guitar in Angry Snowmans. He only joined like, three years ago, so he was technically in Knife Manual before he was in Snowmans. And also Donnie our drummer in Knife Manual has filled in for Snowmans I think for two seasons. And that's it as far as the crossover. And then we've got Tyrone. We're all members of Team Shitty, which is kind of like the Jaks team, but not; we suck at skateboarding, but we love it anyway. Tyrone plays guitar. He's played in crusty hardcore bands, he's played in acoustic folk-punky things he's done here... our bass player Dan just left; we're in the process of replacing Dan, but we've got a good friend of ours, also a former Snowman, Jeff, who is going to fill in for the show in December.   

A: Let me ask you a question about Team Shitty. I know nothing about skateboarding, but I've seen a punk band opening for Nomeansno and the Hanson Brothers called the Shittys. I think the guy's name is pronounced "Bouj-ee" (Craig Bougie). 

T: Bou-jay? 

A: The guy who did sound for Nomeansno. Was there an overlap with Team Shitty?

T: No!

A: Aha. Everytime I see "Team Shitty," I wonder, is that connected to the Shittys? 

T: Yeah, I've been asked before. I've seen them play, but it has nothing to do with the team! 

*TY STRANGLEHOLD POST-SCRIPT: "Since we spoke last, I started working on lyrics for a Snowmans version of a Dwarves song (for next year). Drugstore is turning into North Pole!" (He also says he has contemplated changing "Fuck 'Em All" to "Deck the Halls.") 

Dwarves and Knife Manual (and ATD and Potbelly) play the Waldorf  Dec. 7. Ticket info here. Not sure when they stop selling them online but there were tickets added. Angry Snowmans play Victoria Dec. 20. Again, not sure what good it will do you (sold out online) but event info is here. Good luck gettin' in!

On Not Being Stephen Hamm, plus last night's Pointed Sticks show

Stephen Hamm Theremin Man, taking it to the next level with the Space Family Band at the Rickshaw, Nov. 30, 2024, by Allan MacInnis

A skinny man in a black hoodie corrals me by the Rickshaw entrance. I do not know him, but gamely pause as he points at himself and commences unzipping the hoodie to reveal... his Stephen Hamm Theremin Man t-shirt. It takes me a second to figure out why he is doing this, then I shake my head and say, "I ain't him." 

If I keep my inclination to overestimate in check, this is only maybe the fifth time that someone has mistaken me for Stephen Hamm since the inception of the Theremin Man project, but that's four more times than I've been mistaken for Geoff Barton, Alex Varty, or Ty Stranglehold. I grant that we are both, as Hamm would say, "big-boned"; that we both have rather high foreheads (extending all the way to the back of our heads, in fact) and whitish goatees; and that we are both of a certain age. Hamm also has a moustache, however; stands at least eight inches taller than I do; favours ceremonial robes and eye makeup to my Hawaiian shirts, rock tees, and black slacks; and most importantly, HE'S STEPHEN MOTHERFUCKING HAMM, people, GET IT RIGHT. He was in Slow when I was merely a guy in the audience, for fucksake (to say nothing of Tankhog, the Evaporators, Sunday Morning, and even a version of the Enigmas I saw). He should cut a distinct figure! 

Please study the photos carefully, you Theremin Man fans. That's me on the left in the top pic, me on the right on the bottom. The guy onstage, playing an instrument: THAT'S HAMM. (And while we're at it, what's with the people who were calling out, "Hey, Steve!" last night? Another distinction: you can "Al" me all you want, I do not mind it, but Hamm apparently does not care for the short form of his name, correcting someone from the stage at one point last night, responding to a "Hey, Steve" with a dour mutter of, "Stephen." And yet still calls of "Hey, Steve!" persisted. Why?). 

Without wanting to steal his thunder, my blogless gig buddy Adam Kates -- pictured below with Bev Davies at our late night, post-gig vegetarian Indian dinner at India House, at Pender on Main, who are open til midnight on weekends and have far better  food than you would expect (Rickshaw attendees take heed!) -- enthusiastically came up with a great idea, based on Hamm's debut Space Family Band performance last night: Hamm should put his band on TV. I do not know my TV (Adam suggested Jimmy Kimmell or SNL), but this is actually a fabulous idea; Bev seemed to agree. I think the Space Family Band would present really, really well on television. 

There was even a bit of a theatricality to the performance, beyond the costumes and gold lame suit, when a shaggy creature, looking somewhat like an ambulatory sphagnum bog, joined the band onstage to dance between songs, shuffling low to the ground, hugging the legs of the musicians, staring out at the audience with eyes we could not see, and one time bonking its head into the bass (vision must be limited in such a getup). This was during "Star People."   

Hamm was only one of the acts last night, but he was the only act displaying a momentous onstage evolution, as we've never seen Hamm play with a full band before. I don't know if they were actually all family members, but the Space Family Band is a very welcome addition to Hamm's performances. There were also people wandering the audience wearing muumuus, robes, and other odd costumes that I presume were there as Hamm enthusiasts/ supporters. I enjoyed it enough that at the end of the evening, I bought a new Theremin Man shirt design, despite the fact that me wearing a Theremin Man t-shirt will likely only increase the incidences of being taken for him. But think about it, folks: if I were Stephen Hamm, how would I have taken these photographs? 

The rest of the night was equally fabulous, of course. Going to a Pointed Sticks show in Vancouver is like going to a high school reunion of people you actually like.  In attendance were Rd Cane, Cat Ashbee, Dave Jacklin, Dale and Jade from the Dishrags, Grant McDonagh, Dale Wiese, Richard Chapman, Regina Michaelis, Kristina Mamelli, Ed Hurrell, Sonny Dean (in some sort of tux???!), and to Bev's amazement, Bud Luxford himself (who I last ran into at that garage-door Pointed Sticks show in East Van, but whom she has not seen for some 30 years, I think she said). No doubt there were other notables I did not myself notice (or have already forgotten saying hi to!), but the vibe was as happy and pro-social as it's been at any concert I've attended. Nick commented at one point that in Germany, there was no need to talk about "new songs" versus "old songs," as it was all new to most members of the audience over there, but the band played a surprising number of the old ones last night, including an encore of "The Marching Song" and "Out of Luck," which I missed (I was out sorting stuff out in the lobby -- I'd brought gifts for people, things to get signed, and briefly thought, worst of all, that I'd lost my hat, which had a newly purchased TAD Jack Pepsi pin in it, and a Forgotten Rebels pin gifted me by Adam). 

But I was happy to catch "True Love" and a cover, apropos of Paul Leahy's birthday today, of Polly's "Put a Little English On It," which I leapt from my seat to film for David M. (my first video of the opening two songs is much better). It all sounded great; the Sticks had just returned from a 16-date/ 16-gig sprint across Europe, which, as Nick also quipped, must be some sort of record, if you multiply those figures by the combined age of the members of the Pointed Sticks or something ("I don't know, that's math"). Bill Hemy in particular continues to really knock it out of the park on guitar, in particular. I didn't really understand Ian's drumming for "There's the Door," but recall that I didn't understand it last time I saw them live, either... and now that I re-listen to the studio version, it also seems strange to me (but a bit quieter), like he's a beat ahead of the song, or something... so it's not badly played, just a weird drum part! It's still probably my favourite song on the new album. 

The opening acts were fun, too. Victoria's Peanut Butter Telephone at times channeled the same shoegaze-meets-Sonic Youthfulness I saw exemplified by Cherry Pick a few weeks ago (they'd do very well on a bill together), but also brought a lot of 60s psychedelia to the plate, which grew increasingly potent and present as their set continued; for guys in their 20s, they must have killer record collections (or really cool parents, or something). The Get Arounds (featuring Michael Nathanson, on drums -- he's the member I'd seen most often elsewhere) were more of a "1975 power pop" thing, muscular and tight, but though the guitarist's shades reminded me a bit of Rick Brewster from the Angels (my favourite power pop/ pub rock band of that era) and some of their muscular riffage reminded me of the tougher end of Goddo, another great, under-appreciated band from back then, I had people to say hi to, business to take care of, and a couple trips up to the washroom to make. They didn't need me, anyhow, with someone like Eddy Dutchman in their corner as MC (under his momentary alias of "Mr. Rick Shaw," he'd worked out a bit of stage patter about how you shouldn't fuck around but buy a round for the Get Arounds). 

I remain exhausted, in general (and ill enough that I kind of regret having gone out at all, this weekend, to be honest; I thought maybe on Friday night my cold had passed quickly, but it seems to have resurfaced now). I have one more big piece to put out, then plan to go back to not writing for awhile. But it was such a fun night, I had to all tell you about it. Thanks to the Pointed Sticks for facilitating such a delightful party, and WELCOME HOME. 

Off the Grid, on the Griddle with Ross Birdwise, Dan Kibke, Heather McDermid and others: a Weekend of Broken Grooves, Collisions, and Pancakes, all in the Ejaculation Death Rattle Penumbra

Vancouver fake jazzers and seekers of unusual artistic experiences might wish to take note. While Ejaculation Death Rattle, whom I last wrote about here, have been "slumbering" for awhile, now, there are two events this weekend involving members of the band: a set by Ross Birdwise (and collaborator Raj Gill, who I do not believe has been a member of EDR) and another by Dan Kibke and Heather McDermid (who has a bandcamp with nothing on it and, under the alias Lee Shoal, is also in the Creaking Planks, who are a very different band from EDR; not sure where to link!). 

The first event, taking place this Friday, is a multi-artist evening of improvisatory and exploratory music with free passages cultivating a relationship with beats and grooves; and the second evokes memories of the noise pancake breakfast, one of my very favourite traditions in the Vancouver avant-garde music scene, at which I have occasionally flipped pancakes. 

First things first, we have Broken Groove, aka bRoKeN gRoOvE, taking place Friday at Hypha Arts (1410 Venables; no pancakes will be served; those of you who are in it for the pancakes will have to wait until Sunday morning, more on which below). I gather that Friday will be a bit of a "happening," with room for some interactivity with the audience, and that some of it may serve as a springboard for further explorations on December 6th, at a separate event (more on which below). As for the sounds involved, Gill has described the music to be made as "combining beats and free jazz improvisation, a fusion of freedom and structure."

I've listened to recordings of some of the beats that Birdwise will be weaving electronically-modified vocals and synths over, under, and through. Other beats will be provided in situ by Brady Marks and by Adrian Avendaño, who has a background in free jazz, I'm told, and I believe will actually be drumming; I'm not sure. But the beats I have heard are quirky, glitchy things, very much electronic in nature, and of interest in their own right, possibly the basis of a future recording of their own. Birdwise explains that

the beats - even the ones with polyrhythms, non-grid elements, extreme syncopation and swing, and some elements that drift out of time, are still largely based on grooves - in the sense of counts of four and regular sense of meter underlying everything else. I'll be using some that do not groove or break the groove more as well (more chaotic kinds of rhythms, arhythmic stuff etc), but it's important than many beats do groove, because I'm not really trying to set up an opposition where its grooves vs. chaos or one thing is better than another. It is more about contrast, or in some cases merging disparate elements, and also embracing both repetition and change. In some ways mixing popular and experimental hopefully in a mutually edifying way, and all in the context of a larger event or happening.

I presume that this image, provided by Birdwise, of a mangled chainlink fence is a photo he took. I rather love it -- how there are junctures, a framework, but also things running between them, twisting through them, like strands of music weaving amongst said beats. These explorations -- freedom and structure, pattern and chaos -- also extend to painting, AI, and things in-between, "related to my interest in musical grids (and grooves) as well as notions of abandoning or stretching or breaking or contorting the grid..."

There are also dense interweavings traceable between the performers Friday. Birdwise has connections to with Nikko, Jeannette, and Haley via the Co.Crea.Tive Collective, though he is not, he says, on their website; he was involved in a project they had a hand in called Crawling Human. Meantime, he explains,

Adrian, Matt and Prophecy also perform with Soressa Gardner and I in Sounding The Dusk Meridian, another improv heavy group which originally formed to provide sound (live) for an installation by Keith Langergraber, partner of Heather from EDR. In some ways STDM is in that spirit. Prophecy and Heather also had ties to Her Jazz Noise Collective and I've worked with Prophecy (and Soressa) from around 2008 or 2009 onwards in various groupings, including projects related to my ‘bent time’ beats, the latest album of which [having been] eventually released on mille plateaux in 2023.

As for Ejaculation Death Rattle, they were "one my earliest improv groups and informs what I do to this day," Birdwise tells me. "In some ways my interests in beats go back to techno and industrial, but when I was in EDR I was increasingly interested in wonky, stumbling, polyrhythmic beats as well as more four on the floor material."

The Friday show "continues in some ways that artdamaged EDR tradition of both regular and irregular rhythms and anti-rhythms combined with left-field improv, in a DIY setting akin to a happening. But at times its going to make a more explicit nod to techno and other groove musics. but in a very singular way."

Raj and Birdwise may make this event into "a series of some sort," he speculates, "with different musicians invited to contribute different grooves and improv approaches and other people experimenting with the setup of the evening." People with an interest in furthering these conversations will also want to check out the upcoming event on December 6th at KW Studios, involving Mike WT Allen, Magneticring, Matthew Ariaratnam, and Ivan Lu.  

 As for Dan Kibke and Heather McDermid, they will be performing as Crow Moon  on Sunday as part of the first (annual?) COLLIDE Festival, offering what McDermid describes as "noise-synth, offbeat drone, random voltages and temporal slices of further localities" at the Dec 1 Pancake Noise Breakfast event (this begins at 11:30AM at the Russian Hall, at 600 Campbell). The Instagram links Dan sent seem to be directing me to the wrong places, so I'm not entirely sure what to expect, but THERE WILL BE PANCAKES. 

So unless you catch COVID or something, you really should be there. 

(2006: Vancouver's first-ever noise pancake event, at Blim)

BEAT last night: four virtuosos

SO: went to see BEAT last night: King Crimson and Frank Zappa alum uniting to play 80's King Crimson, with drum support from Tool's Danny Carey. Short version: it was great!

People were lined up on Granville when I got there, and the progress forward was slow; then an Orpheum satff member came along the row and pointed out (as I already knew) that the front entrance was on Smithe and we could get in faster if we lined up there, since there were more ticket-takers. I had wondered why we were lined up on Granville at all, so I quickly departed for the side of the building, and -- because I moved so confidently -- a few other people got out of line with me and made the same trek. They then gathered around me in the other line and began to complain about the grocery store effect, about how this line might have more ticket takers but it also had people coming from more than one direction (people had also apparently lined up on Seymour) and was therefore in fact slower: "It's always the way! We should have just stayed in the line we were in." I felt, personally, like we did get in sooner and wondered if people were actually that bitchy and suspicious or were just grousing good-naturedly as a form of making small talk. I mean, I guess it beats complaining about the weather.

Haven't been to the Orpheum in ages; last time was when Nick Cave did a duet with Mark Lanegan back in 2014? The only time I ever saw Lanegan. Believe the vid you find for that -- of Lanegan and Cave doing a duet on "The Weeping Song" -- was shot by Art Perry and is one of those cases where a fan video captures a truly rare/ precious moment; Cave remarked on it after Lanegan's death, as I recall, though I don't remember specifically what he said.   

Initially, once seated, I was in row 25, an aisle seat (useful for avoiding leg cramps) when someone who looked a bit like John Lucas, and who was in fact named John, but who I don't think WAS John Lucas, since he was up from Seattle, asked me if I was seated alone. I said I was. "Well, my son couldn't make it so I have an extra seat in row 2, if you want to join me?"

An upgrade! Best upgrade since that time I was flying from Tokyo to Vancouver and got bumped into first class, and even though my new seat was one in, the legroom was okay... We chatted about, well, seeing Nick Cave and about how gauche it was for one member of the audience to "out" Elvis Costello at the Massey Hall during that "Nick Cave in conversation" event. Up to that point, Costello and Krall were just being people, unmolested and unremarked upon -- which oddly made me respect Costello more than I already did, as I said to John, seated beside me. "Oh, you were there too?" "Yeah: do you remember the guy who asked the question about Leonard Cohen's 'The Future,' about the crack and anal sex, apropos of Cave's possible self-censorship about the arterial spray in 'Papa Won't Leave You Henry'...? That was me, before my voice got fucked up." 

Laugh if you will that I introduced myself thus, folks, but that question got the arterial spray re-instated in live performances of that song. It was really funny how Cave hesitated, performing it that night, so to remember where it went. A lot of questions that night were about grief and the afterlife and such, but that moment was one of the few very funny ones. 

It is rare that you get to laugh at the words "warm arterial spray." I count this as, in an odd way, an accomplishment, not that I went on about it with John-from-Seattle. But I did wonder how Elvis Costello felt about being outed by that one audience member? Was he pleased to know that Cave knew he was there? Was Cave pleased to know Costello was there? Would they just rather not know such things and "be people" whenever possible? (Cave didn't know Bob Dylan was in the audience the other day when Dylan tweeted about him, which I believe he said he was grateful for -- it would have put some pressure on him, had he realized). I guess it's something to ask Cave about, not that I'll ever interact with him again. It has no bearing on BEAT whatsoever. 

I did make a couple of trips to the merch table during breaks, but bought nothing. There was no vinyl. There were signed CDs by Belew and Levin, and a blu of Levin playing a Chapman stick, which is a fascinating and unfamiliar instrument, but how often would I watch it, especially given the amount of content on YouTube which features him playing the same daunting instrument? As for t-shirts, the decision was made for me, as they only went up to XL. I was more inclined to covet the ubiquitous King Crimson shirts in the audience, anyhow: but none of those were on sale. There were also some Stickmen shirts in the crowd (but not on the table), and I saw one guy in a Steve Vai shirt. I saw no Tool shirts anywhere... Though I did see someone incongruously rockin' a Triumph Allied Forces tee. 

I had that album when I was a kid, but it's been forty years since I heard it. I'm in no rush! 

In my new! improved! seat, I was enjoying hearing about the meet and greet that had happened earlier, with both John and the fellow in the aisle having had a chance to shake hands and say hello and get their photo taken with the artists (which will then be emailed to them; you didn't get to take pictures of your own, apparently). The line moved quite briskly, but people were affable enough. I don't think I asked how much it cost for the privilege, but I took the opportunity to tell John about the Riverview hospital anecdote, linked below, which is really the only thing I'd have to say to these guys anyhow, at this point (I guess I could ask Tony Levin if anyone ever told him he looked like Bob Ostertag?). 

Then the music began. Belew and Vai were dressier when they first came out, wearing suits, which they would take layers off of during the night -- especially Vai, who had three distinct "phases" in dress and seemed the dandiest of the men onstage. His initial suit almost made him seem like he might pull a switchblade on you -- a vaguely menacing cut, though I'm not sure why (too many 1940s crime movies?). They opened with "Neurotica" and "Neal and Jack and Me," with Levin going right to the stick for the first two songs, then strapping on a normal bass for the third one, whereupon Belew joked -- he joked a lot between songs -- that they had started with a couple of the easy ones, and were now going to play one of the really hard ones, which proved to be "Heartbeat," which -- I mean, I think the joke here is, it surely was the simplest of songs they did, though whether simple-is-hard for these guys or Belew was just playing with words, I cannot say.  

While I was otherwise in a mellow frame, I confess that I did feel some resentment at the fellow down the aisle who got up to go to the bathroom, making us all stand up mid-song, then stand again for his return, but moreso because I also had to pee, and had for awhile, at that point. I also had to fart, which I was suppressing. Much of the end of the first set, I was regretting the lentils I'd been eating the day before. During the intermission, I spent some time in the lobby on "controlled release," but it just seemed like it would be gauche to fart next to my row 2 benefactor... I could feel the gas expanding in me...

Said hellos to Rob Frith and Gerald Yoshida during the intermission (Gerald, you really can have that signed Girlschool record, just hit me up). Long lineup for snacks, the guy beside me bitching that someone (he thought) had butted in, though the buddy of the guy who butted in said the guy had a claim on the space. I did not get involved much, but tried to project a Lebowski vibe on the dispute: "It's all just space, man, no need to get so, like, territorial about it." I was somewhat amused that the guy who was behind the guy who he thought had butted in (who in turn thought he had a claim) ultimately  jockeyed to get back in front of him, to get his beverage that full minute sooner and make the alleged line-butter wait. I assume there was alcohol in his drink: it seems to go well with aggrieved territorialism. Myself, I bought a Pepsi Zero (and some Pringles), then I went and stood in line for the toilet, munching chips the whole time. 

It was a very male audience, last night, so the lineups for the mens', for once, were longer for us than the ladies'. But I felt among my people: overweight men in their 50s with facial hair. 

Returning to my newly upgraded seat just as the second set began, I discovered the guy who was sitting in the actual aisle now was shooting a video involving Danny Carey and Belew playing a drum solo at the front of the stage (I am sure there is a setlist online where you can archaeologize this and find out the song; the setlists seem very consistent for this tour). It was very pretty music, and I didn't want to push past the guy and wreck his video, especially since he'd really paid for the swank seat, so I just squatted in the aisle for the whole seven minutes of the song, my hamstrings twanging aggrievedly. I had only taken few photos up to that point, but since I was stuck in the aisle anyhow, I seized the moment and took a few more. 

Nick Cave came to mind another time during the night, when the shadows of both Levin (on the wall to the audience's right) and Vai (to the wall on the left) reminded me of Cave's very expressive shadow on the walls of the Vogue a few years ago. Levin's hatless shadow was not as photogenic as Vai's hatted one, so I just got shots of Levin himself. (Note that he played the bass with weird stick-things on his fingers; I had not seen those before). 

The audience was an interesting place to be in. There were some young people who, with Belew's encouragement, tried to dance late in the second set (which was initially ixnayed by security, despite Belew's invitation). Ultimately, the final song, "Thela Hun Ginjeet" would see everyone standing and up-front, dancing, which is only proper for such a show. Some of the most expressive people in the audience were quite dorky, actually, wearing baseball caps and looking like they probably were (or had been) the type to get beaten up in junior high school for their lunch money. Does that still happen? 

Those dorks rocked, though. There was a kid in a cap in particular, seated right up front, who obviously loved Three of a Perfect Pair, which featured, Belew remarked, some of the rarer material (or did he say "scarcer"?) that the band would do last night. Said kid nodded along so enthusiastically that I felt a bit jealous of him, in fact, because that's the album of the three I know least well. But jealousy is never the whole story: I was happy for him too. 

Then I spent awhile thinking about a neurodiverse Tool fan who I met at work, who I told about the Beat show, since he'd gone to see Tool when last they were in town. I wondered if he had come out, or if the presumed acidhead from Riverview who bonded with me over "Indiscipline" was perhaps there? 

Are there a fair number of mentally ill and/ or neurodivergent King Crimson fans out there? Is Fripp himself neurodivergent? 

I assumed the elephant logo was a signifier of Fripp, or King Crimson: the elephant in the room. Question for an interview that I did not do: how is playing this material live different when Robert Fripp isn't present? 

Weirdly, Vai, who was playing Fripp's guitar parts, looked younger when he took his hat off, later in the evening. Flashy as he is as a person, I actually thought he was somewhat understated in his playing last night -- essential, but subordinate, aware maybe that it's Levin and Belew who have the Crimson pedigree? He called less attention to himself as a guitarist than I expected, in any case. There were clearly people in the audience who were there as Vai fans, who cheered him every time his playing took the fore. 

For me, Belew's guitar was a bit more noticeable, maybe because he was front-and-centre, closest to me. I finally caught the "animal sounds" thing people talk about with him, which I'd read about but not noticed, until early on -- perhaps during "Neal and Jack and Me" -- where he used his guitar to evoke baaing sheep, or such. Then this morning -- with my wife never having heard about Belew and "animal sounds" before -- I was playing her a live clip of "Matte Kudasai," one of the prettiest songs they did, and she commented that his guitar sounded like whales or something. 

Anyhow, I can't write about playing on this level. The playing of men like this is more evolved than my listening (but I'm working on it). 

I have very little else to say about the night. Carey's best drum bits were during "Indiscipline." Belew dedicated "Red" to Robert Fripp and Bill Bruford. Levin brought his camera out near the end -- his Facebook has shown off several of the venues the band has played in, and many are quite spectacular. This is going to be a very well-documented tour...! 

I don't know if I've ever seen a higher level of musicianship onstage, seen more complex parts performed so proficiently by four people. Certainly not at rock concert, I don't think. A lot of the more virtuosic stuff one sees, it's one person, like, say, Richard Thompson, and it's all about that one person and their backing band, but last night, it was four virtuosos, playing densely interlocked parts, all equally spectacular. I closed my eyes for bits of it, and it was gorgeous, but I also enjoyed it when my eyes were opened. 

The rest is photos, by me, taken in sequence: the end of the main set, the encore, and the end of the encore. I did not photograph the long lineup to leave, but I just sat it out. 

Thanks, BEAT: that was splendid. And thanks again to John from Seattle, for the upgrade!

Post-script: Tony Levin's Tour Diary for the show is here (attentive eyes can spot me in several photos). Apparently the dancing during "Thela" was the most exuberant they've seen yet. And if Tony Levin looks like Bob Ostertag... does Adrian Belew look like Noah Walker? A little?