The Nerve Magazine - February 2007

The Nerve February 2007 Page

The Nerve February 2007 Page

The Nerve February 2007 Page

CONTENTS

CONTENTS

Features

Volume 8, Number 2, Issue #68 508 - 825 Granville St., Vancouver, B.C. V6Z 1K9 604.734.1611 www.thenervemagazine.com info@thenervemagazine.com

The Don (a/k/a Editor-In-Chief and Publisher) Bradley C. Damsgaard editor@thenervemagazine.com Wiseguy (a/k/a Music Editor) Adrian Mack mack@thenervemagazine.com Shotgun (a/k/a Film Editor) Michael Mann mann@thenervemagazine.com Launderer (a/k/a Book Editor) Devon Cody cody@thenervemagazine.com The Henchmen (a/k/a Design & Graphics) Dale De Ruiter, Kristy Sutor Weapons Cleaner ( a/k/a Article Editor) Jon Azpiri Surveillance Team (a/k/a Photographers) Devon Cody, Dale De Ruiter, Miss Toby Marie, The Muscle (a/k/a Staff Writers) AD MADGRAS, Jason Ainsworth, Cowboy TexAss, Chris Walter, Stephanie Heney, Adam Simpkins, Carl Spackler, David Bertrand, Herman Menervemanana, Ferdy Belland, Dave Von Bentley, Devon Cody, Dale De Ruiter, Derek Bolen, Ethyltron, Johnny Kroll, Andrew Molloy, Boy Howdy, Cameron Gordon, BRock Thiessen, Filmore Mescalito Holmes, Jenna James, Jenny C, Will Pedley Plaster Caster (a/k/a Cover Design) Toby Bannister toby@thenervemagazine.com Fire Insurance (a/k/a Advertising) Brad Damsgaard, Seasn Mckay advertise@thenervemagazine.com The Kid (a/k/a The Intern) INTERNSHIP AVAILABLE (email publisher above) Out-of-town Connections (a/k/a Distro & Street Team) Toronto: Rosina Tassone Montreal: Douglas Ko Calgary: Mike Taylor Edmonton: Freecloud Records, Bob Prodor Winnipeg: Margo Voncook Regina: Whitehorse: Jordi and Jeremy Jones Victoria/Whistler: Jono Jak, Lindsay Seattle/Bellingham: Frank Yahr The Nerve is published monthly by The Nerve Magazine Ltd. The opinions expressed by the writers and artists do not necessarily reflect those of The Nerve Magazine’s publisher or its editors. The Nerve does not accept responsibility for content in advertisements.

The Nerve reserves the right to refuse any advertisement or submission and accepts no responsibility for unsolicited manuscripts or artwork.

Printed in Canada.

All content Š Copyright The Nerve Magazine 2007.

Est. 1999

8 THE DWARVES

Contaminating your precious daughters since 1983! - Devon Cody

7 SEBADOH

Easily the best footnote to Pavement - Adam Simpkins

7 A FRAMES

Who said Robots? - Jenny C

10 THE BLASTERS

Yet another psychological band aid for the ageing Nerve editorial department - Ferdy Belland

16 SPARKLEHORSE

Mark Linkous bums us out (in the best way)

9

9 11 12 12 13 13 13 11 11 24

A Closer Walk with

Mr. Bertrand Orchid Highway Longmont Potion Castle Cobweb Society The Smears Great Aunt Ida The Golden Wedding Band Bughouse 5 Nels Cline and Glenn Kotche Upper Canadian Blues Black Sheep

- Leela Monroe

Sections 06 20 17 19 22 21 25 26 27

Cheap Shotz Live Album Reviews DVD Film Books Video Games Crossword Comics The Nerve February 2007 Page

CONTENTS “I wish I could get married in a Nudie suit” Adrian Mack, Music Editor people remember Greg as being an okay guy, but absolutely hated his female bandmate. We heard from other people that she was the reason he quit the Stompers to go off on his own.

- C & J Hornsby

Local Rave Scene Devastated… Vows to Continue Dancing Like No One is Watching.

Filmore Mescalito Holmes - great to see ya slag czech in the latest nerve magazine. some music critic you are.....you don’t even know the difference between a band and a dj! and just to set the record straight....czech has toured all over the world, has released tons of records and pioneered many successful club nights....... and you are some armchair critic that writes for shitty magazines. dope contribution. just the fact you use the word ‘’electronica’’ tells me where you are at musically!! Lame where can we hear some of your music, or hear you dj? lemme think.......nowhere. ha!! you should really stop thinkin bout sausage sooo much bro. we all know you show up at czech’s gigs, and hide in the corner quitely rubbing yerself. and while you continue to write for these sorry publications, and wallow in obscurity czech will continue tearin shit up!!! instead of dissing people, you should make some music or dj yourself, and make the world a better place....... you fuckin toy!!!!

- vinyl ritchie Birdfan Dave! I saw Budgie at the Playhouse Theatre in downtown Winnipeg back in the late ‘70s.

They played a sold out show in a renovated old vaudeville house. We had fifth row center seats, just yards from the stage. Everyone was on their feet, rockin’ to a wall of heavy sound. I’ll never forget that concert. People in the aisles dancing with no abandon, just givin’ er. The Playhouse Theatre was and still is an intimate venue with a main floor seating area, second floor balcony, and - right and left of stage - second level private seating boxes. It was the kind of show you wished would never end. I still have all my Budgie albums on vinyl. Always loved the cover art (Roger Dean the artist, I think). My personal fave songs - “Parents”, “Napoleon Bona Part One and Two”, “Anne Neggan”, and “The Author”. It’s great to hear that they are going to release some new tunes.

Perhaps you can jog Mr. Burkes’ memory about playing in Winnipeg, which is alot further west than Thunder Bay. Yours truly, superfan, Kevan Long,Victoria, BC Hello The Nerve Magazine, Ran across Chris Walter’s extremely accurate article regarding the Glory Stompers/Kentucky Fried Children fight in Calgary and thought I’d comment on it. The Glory Stompers had some extremely self centered little girl who had joined their band and she was pretty much single handedly responsible for many fights with virtually every other punk band right across Canada. Can’t remember her name for the life of me, but I remember her trying to start a fight with Jay Springbird (from Slur Magazine) at a Bad Brains/Random Killing show at The Bronx in Edmonton. Jay told her to MYOB and get out of his face because she kept coming up to him trying to get his attention. After he ignored her, she got mad and went to her band and collectively the Glory Stompers and their pals went over to try to intimidate Jay for their own amusement. Big mistake! Springbird had been in punk bands in Montreal and T.O, before most of the Stompers were born, and he could really scrap. He basically beat the shit out of the entire band, which they really deserved for trying to gang up on him. We watched the entire event from start to finish and ended up buying Jay and his girlfriend beers, we were impressed that the two of them took on an entire gang. The episode repeated itself almost at every show the Stompers played. Eventually, most of Edmonton was turned off by this band because of one member who was, in my humble opinion, a real control freak. She reminded me alot of Nancy Spungen. In contrast, almost every punk band in Edmonton and Calgary got along well, and regularly shared stages and stayed at each other’s homes when playing out of town gigs. Most

The Nerve February 2007 Page

A Note from Saskatoon…

Dear Cameron Gordon, 2226 kilometers and counting.You’d best bring a big branch motherfucker.

Love, Devon Cody Book Editor Nerve Magazine

Outlandas D’Bigfuckingdeal The big news around here this month is that the original line-up of the Police have been practicing at Lions Gate Studios in North Vancouver, in preparation for a tour that you probably won’t be able to afford when and if it happens. We caught up with the band as they attempted to have us beaten up by a private paramilitary team hired to protect Sting’s billowy gold pants and curly Arabian fun-shoes.

An irate Sting (real name Gordon Stinglebaum) later destroyed our recording equipment with his fist chakras. We were consequently forced to hide behind an enormous Pacific Northwest cedar that turned out to be Stewart Copeland (real name Stingart Copesting), while Andy Summers (real name Sting) tried to plug his tuner into a bedpan. “Sting” is best known for getting his tits out in the sci-fi blockbuster Dune.

Nessie Surfaces Curiously, at exactly the same time that Sting was beating the shit out of us, many miles away, in a dark Scottish loch, something crawled to the surface. Initial reports indicate no connection between the two events -

Marine Club bar staff on the lookout for new employment Disassociated Press Quiffs Overboard The (‘World-Famous’, it says here) Marine Club has now shut down. In recent years the club had gained a reputation as being the home to Vancouver’s rockabilly scene (this was in

addition to its already-gained reputation as the club with the smelliest toilets and the rudest bar staff). The last event staged at the Marine was a showing of Marcus Rogers new documentary The Low-Down On Low-Brow (currently airing on Bravo TV). A fitting end, this event was well-attended by many of the Marine Club’s regular patrons, none of whom were aware that they were there for the last time. Evidently the staff didn’t know either.

News of the club’s closure a day later resulted in much gnashing of teeth, cracking of bottles, and tightening of skinny pink belts. People with a penchant for upright basses and pomade needn’t fret, however: club promoter Reece Linley will be moving his monthly ‘Rockabilly Roundup’ night to Pat’s Pub in February.

Evidently, (long-time Marine Club bartender and handsome devil) Russell is still the heppest cat in town, as he’s already been spotted hanging out there.

- Disassociated Press Sneaky Pete Kleinow RIP Pete Kleinow was an innovator on the pedal steel guitar who shot to prominence when he hooked up with the Flying Burrito Brothers in 1968. His resume was extraordinary, and here’s just some of the folk he played with: Joe Cocker, the Byrds, Jackson Browne, Frank Zappa, John Lennon, Steve Miller, the Bee Gees, Fleetwood Mac, Stevie Wonder, Leonard Cohen, Gene Clark, Joni Mitchell, the Lemonheads… Remember Johnny Lee’s “Looking for Love”? That’s Sneaky Pete. “Torn and Frayed” by the Rolling Stones? Sneaky Pete. He also worked with Kelowna’s Grapes of Wrath on their great 1989 album Now and Again. Former Grape Kevin Kane told us about working with Kleinow: Kane: I was thrilled beyond belief that we were able to get him to play on our record. It came about because a producer that we worked with (Anton Fier) had worked with Pete out in LA on a Golden Palominos record. I kept bugging him about it, and said I really, really want him on our record. “You know the guy, can you make it happen?” I knew his work from Little Feat, stuff like that… We had him in the studio for, I think, a total of three hours. He set up his guitar, tuned up, we got him to play on four tunes, and he packed up his guitar, got back in the car, and flew back to LA the same day. But he was a super nice guy, really laid back. There’s a picture of me and Pete sitting behind his steel, and the grin on my face… I’ve had a few pictures done with people before, but that’s the biggest grin I’ve ever seen on my face, with Pete…. I looked at his guitar, I think he had an old Fender. He had some built in effects, like a phaser, a fuzz - they sounded awful but he said, “Well, if anything happens to this guitar, I’ll just stop playing, cause there’s just no point,” and I found out since then that all steel guys customize their guitars, so they’re one-of-a-kind instruments. They literally can’t play another instrument. At the time I thought it was crazy… It was a huge thrill to sit there and watch Pete Kleinow play on our music, and then years later, I found out he’d also written the theme to Gumby, which blew me away! I love that song and if only I’d known, I would have bought a Gumby to get him to autograph, because he was also one of the animators. He worked with George Pal. I didn’t know any of this stuff at the time - I was a huge George Pal fan. I loved Davey and Goliath, and all that crap.

Nerve: He worked on a lot of neat stuff: the Pillsbury Dough Boy, Empire Strikes Back, Terminator, Gremlins… He played on the Stones’ “Torn and Frayed” Kane: I know! Again, I found that out after the fact. Exile is one of my all time favourite albums.

I was like, ‘Wow, I got the guy that played one of my all-time favourite steel parts...’

Nerve:The Burritos all had those bitchin’

nudie suits, but they made poor old Pete wear that crazy Pterodactyl jumpsuit with the big floppy hat. Did you bring that up with him?

Kane: He didn’t have anything to say about that, but one thing I do remember him saying, I asked, “Did you ever play with the Eagles?”

And he goes, “Yeah. Well… they weren’t called the Eagles then. They were just called Linda Ronstadt’s backing band.” He was a really neat guy. It was one of those times you put someone up on a pedestal because of the music they played on, and they just made you feel good for having been so into their music.

Sneaky Pete passed away on January 6, 2007.

Dear Nerve, does anyone find it strange that when we have a “natural disaster” where a bunch of our precious Stanley Park trees fall down, and when I say natural I mean.. mother nature shit.. you know basically unavoidable... the whole wonderful community of (rich) people who pretend they care, get together and raise up to sums of four million dollars... are you fucking serious..! why dont you build a log house, for the peoples of our community in the park and put the rest of the money towards the fucking fucked up drug problem we have in the “community” that has been plaguing this city for the last twenty years... call me a right wing but they gotta help those people sooner or later... and with this whole crystal meth business thrown in the bag too, and now due to 2010 the the obliteration of everything sacred being demolished in the east side... lest us forget main and hastings used to be the downtown.. i mean those buildings are the heart of old architecture in vancouver.... so what i was thinking is let’s take 3 million of that budget, let the forest fix itself naturally as many great wonders do, and help the things that can’t replenish themselves.. I mean really, thank god BC place is infalted again.. phew. p.s I am a totall nerd.. hearts toby

WHO GIVES A FUCK?

This month’s guest: Jeremy Hiebert of Comeback Kid What album is currently in your stereo?

Muse - Origin of Symmetry What book are you currently reading or have most recently read?

Beyond Civilization: Humanity’s Next Great Adventure by Daniel Quinn What was the last movie you watched?

Stormbreaker. It was on our flight back from Japan. Terrible.

Name one album, book, or movie that you consistently recommend to a friend.

Lamb of God - As the Palaces Burn Name one album, book, or movie that you would recommend to an enemy.

Probably the same What is a recent guilty pleasure?

Crushing on cute Japanese girls in Japan What is your biggest pet peeve?

Listening to ungrateful people take way too much for granted and expect so much, and also the fact that racism still exists. It’s 2007!!!

Name one bad habit you’re extremely proud of.

My annoying sayings or one-liners If you could hang out with any one person throughout history, who would it be?

Jesus. I really need to pick his brain.

What is the one thing you want to get done before you die?

Set foot on every continent. I’m not quite sure how to get over to Antarctica though.

Getting to Know You!

I

Bentley, Bertrand and the BITCH that came between them.

n our ongoing effort to alienate our contributors as well as our readers, we bring you a new regular feature to The Nerve. Every month we’ll dig a little deeper into the lives of Nerve contributors for your amusement. If you went to high school with a Nerve writer or have a link to their online journal, send it to cheapshotz@ thenervemagazine.com. We promise to protect the anonymity of our sources. This month: David Von Bentley Nerve: Can you explain your relationship with David von Bentley to me?

Informant: I went to high school with him from grade eight to 12. I would say he was an ‘acquaintance’. We didn’t hang out but we did see each other at house parties.

Nerve: What did he like to do?

Informant: He liked to hang at his favorite party spot which was a pond nicknamed “the pond.” He’d often go there with his buddies drinking Wildcat and Old E. He also played rugby, likely to see other guys’ cocks.

Nerve: With a middle name like “Von”, did you ever get the impression that his parents were Nazis?

Informant: The Von has to be added in there.

Everyone used to call him David.

Nerve: Did he take shop class? He seems like the kind of guy who spent a lot of time making knives and ninja throwing stars in shop.

Informant: No, he did drama.

Nerve: Oh, he did drama! Did he ever take part in a musical or was he just an improv nerd?

Informant: I don’t really remember.

Nerve: Did he have any girlfriends or

bad skin?

Informant:Yeah, he had a girlfriend.

Nerve: Was she pretty?

Informant: I don’t think she was an eyesore, but she’s no Jennifer Lopez.

Nerve: Would you hit it?

Informant: Back then, probably not.

Nerve: How would you describe von Bentley’s fashion sense in high school?

Informant. He was a lumberjack. He wore a lumberjack sweater and a Metallica shirt.

Totally skid row.

Nerve: Was he just kind of skiddy or was he gothy as well? Did he ever wear eyeliner or nail polish?

Informant: No, no, no. He wasn’t that extreme.

Nerve: He likes to talk about his cock a lot. Like in every piece of writing he’s ever given us, there’s a reference to blood, semen, his cock, or all three.

Did you ever have any conversations about his cock with him?

Informant: I think that must be something he recently picked up. Nothing out of the ordinary ever happened where he was talking about his cock.

Nerve: Did you ever sneak a peek at his cock in the shower after gym class?

Informant: I didn’t.

Nerve: If you had to wager a guess, how big would it be?

Informant: This is a really homo question.

Nerve: C’mon, take a guess. Over or under six inches? Under four inches?

Informant: Under four.

Nerve:You’re going with under four?

Excellent.Thank you for your time.

- Michael Mann Next month: Get to Know Ferdy Belland!

B

CONTENTS

The Return of Sebadoh

Beauty Of The Ride

By Adam Simpkins

W

hen I reach Lou Barlow at his Los Angeles home, he’s in a very good mood.

So much, in fact, I have a difficult time believing this is the same guy who would viciously scold chatty fans for talking during his quiet songs, or even attack himself with his guitar when his band didn’t sound up to par. At 40, an “Indie Rock Veteran” as he reluctantly labels himself, Barlow is relaxed, content, and less inclined to act out like his younger self.

“I’ve been working on not being an asshole for the past 10 years,” he says with a laugh. “I had some bad experiences in the beginning. Those first Sebadoh shows were really edgy. The vibe [in the early ‘90s] was a lot edgier, more bitchy.” Sharing stages with hardcore acts and Touch and Go heavyweights Big Black and the Jesus Lizard, Barlow’s confessional acoustic songs mixed with experimental punk/noise bursts (courtesy of drummer Eric Gaffney) were often met with anger and confusion from fans that only knew Sebadoh by its recorded material. “We would literally sound like Black Flag, that’s the way we would play. We’d come out and play a punk rock set and then end up crumpled on the floor. And this is to people who were like ‘Where’s the ukulele? Where’s the soft singing?’ We’d have people come up to us and say ‘You just made $1500 tonight! That’s bullshit! You shouldn’t be allowed to get away with that! You should be ashamed of yourself!’”

While those were undoubtedly confrontational times, Barlow looks back on that era fondly and just laughs about it now. Up until Eric Gaffney’s departure in early 1993, Sebadoh was riding high alongside

other indie rock mainstays, such as Pavement, Superchunk and Unrest. Later in 1993 came Bakesale, Sebadoh’s biggest selling and most critically acclaimed album to date, followed by Harmacy in 1996 and their final album, The Sebadoh in 1999 which was met with overwhelming indifference from its record label and maturing fanbase. “[That] was horrible,” Barlow says with a cringe, “We got slammed in Rolling Stone, people weren’t going to the shows - at least in the States. In England we had a top 30 single for a second (‘The Flame’) and got on Top Of The Pops. We sold more records in Japan for some reason.” Barlow rationalizes this decline to the late 90s “sea change” in American indie rock.

A time when younger fans were gravitating toward the sounds of the Pacific Northwest and demanding a new, more pop-oriented, style of indie (Built to Spill, Modest Mouse, Sleater-Kinney). “Sire dropped us within two weeks of releasing The Sebadoh. And then Sub Pop was going through fucking madness.

There was this big split between [label-owners] Bruce Pavitt and Jonathan Poneman – it was just this bloodbath. All this crazy talk about money and lawyers, and we were totally caught in the middle of that. It was horrible!”

“We toured the hell out of that record,” Barlow continues. “And by the end it was like ‘Wow. Nobody fucking cares. This is intense!’ We had just seen this significant decline in our fans, record sales and everything.” At that point, the band decided to call it a day. Barlow went on to record two more albums with his side-project The Folk Implosion and later released a solo album while guitarist/cosongwriter Jason Loewenstein also took the solo

route. After the two reunited for a handful of shows in 2004 (“The Turbo Acoustic Tour”), in addition to re-releasing the seminal Sebadoh III record, the original line-up decided it was time to get back together for a few shows. For Barlow at least, this upcoming reunion should be relatively easy compared to his recent hatchet-burying with his other band Dinosaur Jr. – who have not only extensively toured, but also recorded an album of new material set for a May release. “[With me and J. Mascis} everything is the same. The dynamic is the same, there’s just not this churning hostility underneath it. We’re still totally dysfunctional,” he laughs. “But it functions because we’re all older now – the same goes with Sebadoh.You pass these formative times and get perspective on what’s important – and that’s not your own little dramas.

It’s the bigger picture of playing music and going on tour. That supersedes the petty concerns that kind of drove everyone crazy back in the day.”

Denying that this tour is a cash grab (the band has no plans to record any new material), Barlow insists that the reunion is solely to play music with

Sub Pop was going through fucking madness.

It was a bloodbath!

The A Frames

PHOTO: THOMMY

Greatness Rides In A Station Wagon

By Jenny C

I

n 1968, MC5 signed a recording deal with Elektra Records. Shortly after, each band member went out and purchased a new car, all of them picking sports cars with the exception of singer Rob Tyner – he bought a station wagon. Twenty years later it would be my turn to experience the glories of a station wagon as my mom carted me to school each morning. And now, almost another 20 years after that, the A Frames will pull up outside Pub340 in a wood paneled station wagon, re-affirming something I’ve always known – greatness rides in a station wagon.

Based out of Seattle, the A Frames are a threepiece inspired by the likes of mutant strippers, ran-

his good friends and for the fans who want to hear it. “After doing the Dinosaur thing, I was like ‘why not up the ante a little more?’ Because if people care about it, and that seems to be the case, you have to answer that call. The satisfaction to that call comes from actually getting back together and playing how we used to, because we were a very dynamic band.”

Whether or not Sebadoh will be a lasting legacy still remains to be seen, but Barlow doesn’t really seem to care either way: “If everyone goes to their graves thinking the Pixies are better than Dinosaur Jr., that’s fine. I don’t care. If Sebadoh is always a footnote to Pavement, then that’s fine too. It’s just good to play. It’s just good to have people listen and to have the opportunity to do it.”

Sebadoh plays March 3rd at Richard’s on Richards. n

dom scribbles in a little black book, and the dystopic wasteland that the legendary Bobby Soxx worked so hard to pioneer. Musically they follow the path of such prolific acts as the Scientists, X, (the Australian band), Wire, the Cows, Karate Party, and Stickman with Rayguns.

Since their official formation in 1999, the A Frames’ experimental noise rock has led both garage punkers stumbling towards sophistication, and noise experimentalists tugging at their avant-garde sweaters, with each group delighted and a little confused by the unique sound of the A Frames’ fucked-uprobot-doom. Shit. I did it. Dammit all, I promised Min and myself I wouldn’t do it. Say “robot” I mean. Fuck.

I did it again… fine… robot robot robot.

It’s the first thing on my mind when I get bassist Min Yee on the phone one afternoon in late January.

After three records and numerous seven inches each caked in the A Frames lyrical style of bleak-dystopic-gloom, I’m dying to know if the band is as fed up with robots as I am. When I tell Yee that I actually tried to find one article or review that didn’t make use of the robot reference, he laughs, telling me that with time it’s become more of a running joke amongst the band but initially it was pretty annoying (at which point I immediately promise not to talk of robots again). And with so much attention devoted to stringing together descriptive groups of nouns that begin and end with uh um “robot” ah (Dammit), it’s no wonder that fans and media alike often overlook that the A Frames’ music is actually… well, quite funny. Lyrically speaking, vocalist/guitarist Erin Sullivan might rely heavily on themes as serious as futuristic disorder and social control, but his songs are often witty and really very tongue’n’cheek. “Most people don’t catch that humour,” agrees Yee, “because they’re [delivered in deadpan way]… a lot of people don’t pick up on it,” adding, “it’s kinda what we expected, it’s not like we’re up there doing stand up jokes.” But with lyrics like, No burgers no sports no jokes/Civilization was a hoax or No churches no garbage cans/no punks no garage bands/no organisms left to grow/Black forest and fall-out snow - at times they really aren’t that far off from it.

I try to talk to Yee about whether it’s fair to call the A Frames a concept band, given there’s an underlying theme to so much of their work. Or is it more

accurate to say they’re a band that makes concept albums? Yee actually thinks it’s more accurate to go with Option C and tells me to “Fuck Off,” adding, “I don’t consider us a concept band, but I’m aware that some probably think of us that way. But it’s not all doom and gloom. We love lil’ bunnies and cats. Erin’s lyrics can go toward the dark side sometimes, but it’s because that’s just what he thinks about, rather than it being a concept for an album or for the band.

And honestly, it’s hard not to notice the evil every time you turn around.” And I agree. It’s especially hard not to notice when bass players are telling you to “Fuck Off” - granted “Fuck Off” actually was Option C, but that’s entirely beside the point and kinda wrecks the story.

What’s more important to the story is February 24th. It’s the date of the A Frames very first show in Vancouver. I can only assume there’s one reason and one reason only why they’ve held off so long to play up here – the station wagon.

Turns out, the A Frames have only recently become the fortunate owners of this most needed and glorious vehicle. Call it a signing bonus from their newish drummer Thommy Northcut.

Completely relieved to find out that the A Frames will be traveling in this fashion, I assure Yee they’ll have no trouble making it up to Vancouver – even the Canadian border patrol knows that greatness rides in a station wagon.Yee tells me they may throw a couple Jesus fishes on the back, you know, just in case.

Perfect Youth presents The A Frames February 24th at Pub 340. Also on the bill,Vancouver’s Shearing Pinx and Modern Creatures. 9pm. n

Fuck Off!

The The Nerve NerveSeptember February 2006 2007 Page

PHOTO: ESTER SEGARRA

The Dwarves

Man, these guys could really use a gimmick.

s l l e T r e v e N n a m e l t n e G A

By Devon Cody

Y

ou know you’ve earned your place as legitimate shit-disturbing legends when the most neutral country in the world forbids you to set foot on its soil. I had originally aimed for a sensational opening to this article by having Dwarves frontman and founding member Blag Dahlia regale us, in all its gnarly detail, with the story of the band getting held up at the Swiss border, which ended up with their arrest at gunpoint and the confiscation of their “offensive” merch, followed by cavity searches, and finally - just to put the frosting on the shit-pie - a 5000 euro fine… but apparently this is a touchy subject.

“Let’s move on to something more interesting dude,” Dahlia interrupts. “That wasn’t a big deal. We got fucked with by the Swiss border guards. That’s over now.”

Well, well, call me crazy, but I find arrests at gunpoint and the notion of the self-professed “World’s Most Dangerous Band” having their chocolate holes prodded by rubber-gloved watchmakers vastly entertaining. Nevertheless, being of the gentlemanly sort, I respectfully move on.

It’s been a little better than two years since the Dwarves released their genre-jumping FrankensteinmonsterThe Dwarves Must Die — an album that was received by critics and fans with more than a few furrowed brows and sour faces. Many people just couldn’t wrap their head around its adventurous nature. The most pointed criticism was aimed particularly at the couple of hip-hop tracks on the disc.

“Some people who were real punk purists were

The Nerve February 2007 Page

upset,” Dahlia comments, “because we did some hip-hop stuff and we looped a lot of strange records and stuff but, you know, that’s how we have to do it. We have to keep expanding and changing things.

Otherwise we get bored.” However, it’s not so much the punk response that I’m interested in. Are we going to see the Dwarves opening up for 50 Cent in the near future? What did the hip-hop community make of the Dwarves’ foray onto their turf? While he doesn’t rule out the possibility of a tour with a rap group “if the money’s right,” Dahlia also chuckles with a rare bit of modesty, “We didn’t exactly set the hip-hop world on fire with those songs.”

So why choose hip-hop?

Of course, the most obvious theory is: What better way to piss off and provoke both the old, complacent punk rockers as well as the manufactured mall variety? The Dwarves have never been ones to shy away from confrontation. In fact, next to plugging the elastic holes of young girls, it’d be a safe to assume that it’s this sort of thing that makes the band tick.

“We made a hip-hop song about rock bands and how lame they were. That was the idea. We didn’t try to make one where we acted all ‘yo’ and shit,” Dahlia says, with what I sense is growing irritation at the subject matter. “We came at it from our angle where we just decided there were a lot of rock bands that needed calling out for how lame

they were, so we did it in a hip-hop realm. But live, when you see us, you basically just get a punk rock band laying it out there — loud, fast, crazy. So all the purists can come out to the show in Vancouver [and Victoria] and enjoy it.”

Aside from touring, last October the band released a DVD with the Suicide Girls titled FEFU that contains a music video for the song of the same name (which you can see on their website www. thedwarves.com). The music video alone features enough blood, guts and nudity to justify the price tag, yet you’ll also get over an hour’s worth of footage documenting the band’s 20 tumultuous years together. If that wasn’t enough on it’s own, there’s the added pleasure of watching Blag Dahlia realize his lifelong dream of making out with a real live dwarf in the video.Yes, a real live hot little rock ‘n’ roll little person. Was there any humpy humpy? Any in-and-out action? Is it true that little people have runty cunts? I still don’t know, and if Blag Dahlia does… he ain’t talking. So we move on – awkwardly, I might add.

For a band that has been threatening to throw in the towel since the moment of its inception, there was something in particular about The Dwarves Must Die that gave it the genuine feel of a farewell record.

Yet, the DVD release and the tour give the sense that there may be some new material in the works.

Is it true that little people have runty cunts?

Can we expect another album from the Dwar— “I’m always working on new stuff,” Dahlia interrupts… again, “but I really like to make different kinds of records. The Dwarves Must Die was a big record for us.” He continues on about how great an album it is, all but giving me a straight answer to my question, then swings into a sales pitch, reiterating that we must all go and buy the record if we don’t already have it, as well as the new DVD. It occurs to me that, had punk rock not worked out for Mr. Dahlia, he would have made one hell of a used car salesman.

Given the Switzerland story, the general nature of the band, and Canadian border guards that would make Heinrich Himmler proud, I’m still hesitant to believe the Dwarves are going to make it into Canada, but if everything goes according to plan, you can catch them at The Plaza on March 1st (or Lucky Bar in Victoria the next day) in all their perverse glory. Chances are, founding partner Hewhocannotbenamed will be naked as a newborn luchador, as usual, and wielding his instrument with an infectious quality that hasn’t been seen since SARS. He’ll also be playing guitar. And ladies, don’t fret about the aforementioned fact that Blag Dahlia has a special affection for females of the super-diminutive variety.

There are many filthy sexual adventures that have yet to be checked off the Dwarves’ “to do” list.

Dahlia is eager to confirm, “Well yeah,” he says, “especially in Canada because the girls there are so cute and they have more, like, European morals… they’re very, uh… accommodating.” n

‘

“1986 – Year in Review”

PHOTO: ESTER SEGARRA

06 sucked, no surprise.

But would you believe it’s been 20 years since we capped 1986, that banner year of the bonerhead decade? A certified trainwreck, both politically and artistically, in ’86 only Jambi the Genie – that disembodied head from Pee-wee’s Playhouse, which debuted in 1986 – could’ve answered the prayers of so many washed-up ‘60s and ‘70s musical talents, who suddenly, simultaneously, dove chin-deep into overt radio pop and sappy keyboard-driven MOR, scoring huge late-career hits (or failing embarrassingly).

Please note: Steve Winwood, “Higher Love” Genesis, “Invisible Touch” ZZ Top, “Sleeping Bag”, “Rough Boy” James Brown, ‘Living in America’ Dionne Warwick, Elton John, and Gladys Knight, “That’s What Friends Are For” Judas Priest, “Turbo Lover” (gayest Priest song EVER) Bob Seger, “Like a Rock” Starship, “Sara” – plus the epically awful “We Built This City” was still on the charts from ’85.

Run D.M.C. W/ Aerosmith, “Walk this Way” Boston, “Amanda” Joe Cocker, “You Can Leave Your Hat On” Emerson, Lake & Powell?

AC/DC, the original score (???) for Stephen King’s Maximum Overdrive.

Lionel Richie, “Dancing on the Ceiling”, “Say You, Say Me” Peter Gabriel, “Sledgehammer” Rod Stewart, “Love Touch” Paul Simon, Graceland (the one great album in this list) Black Sabbath, Seventh Star - supposed to be a Tony Iommi solo album, Seventh Star was tagged ‘Black Sabbath featuring Tony Iommi’ at the label’s insistence.

The tender ballad “No Stranger to Love” and accompanying video, is quite simply the most embarrassing moment of Sabbath’s career.

Ozzy Osboune, “Shot in the Dark”.

Ozzy = drag queen.

And lest we forget: Robert Palmer, “Addicted to Love” Poison, Look What the Cat Dragged In David Lee Roth, “Yankee Rose” Don Johnson, “Heartbeat” Eddie Murphy, “Party all the Time” Kenny Loggins, “Danger Zone” Huey Lewis, “The Power of Love”, “Hip to Be Square” Europe, The Final Countdown Bon Jovi, Slippery When Wet Van Hagar Stryper, The Yellow and Black Attack! (the debut of Christian Metal’s biggest band) The demise of Black Flag and the Dead Kennedy’s (goodbye punk!)

On the world stage, plenty of awful, globeaffecting events went down in America and elsewhere. I stole this shortened list from

Psychotronic Magazine, issue #41: Fox, owned by Rupert Murdoch, becomes the first new TV network since the ‘50s. It births the just-left-of-KKK Fox News Channel, who’s Chairman and CEO, Roger Ailes, was a former advisor to Nixon, Reagan, and Bush the 1st. Fox News jumped the gun on election results in 2000, aiding George W’s fraudulent Presidential win. Murdoch owns TV Guide, a gazillion affiliates, tons of top-grossing films like Star Wars and Titanic, and at least half the souls of America.

Sumner Redstone’s Viacom buys MTV,VH1, Showtime and the Movie Channel. He now owns CMT, BET, Spike TV, Nickelodeon, Paramount and Blockbuster Video. Redstone supported George W. Bush’s re-election.

The Chernobyl nuclear plant in the Ukraine goes kablooie, contaminating hundreds of thousands of Soviet citizens and the land they live on. Mother Earth gets fucked with a rusty nail. Hello Global Warming.

The Challenger Space Shuttle blows the fuck up, killing everyone on board.

U.S. President Ronald Reagan changes FCC (Federal Communications Commission) regulations, allowing TV stations to show as many commercials as they want, opening the doors for hour-long infomercials and the Home Shopping Network.

Worthwhile local TV dies abruptly.

The Iran-Contra Scandal. Reagan sells weapons to Iran, an avowed enemy, uses the proceeds to fund the Contras, an anti-communist guerrilla death squad in Nicaragua designed to overthrow the country’s first ever democratically elected (but non-Reagan approved) government. Other Contra funding comes from the C.I.A.’s cocaine trafficking, all while the U.S. government’s ‘War on Drugs’ is in full swing. Reagan amazingly weathers the ensuing media storm, and comes out smiling and ever-popular. He died in 2004, a stinky old asshole.

George W. Bush turns 40, experiences an “intense reawakening” of his Christian faith.

A few decent things happened: Blue Velvet.

Heavy metal proves its ruling-ness with three seminal releases: Slayer’s Reign in Blood, Megadeth’s Peace Sells... But Who’s Buying?, and Metallica’s Master of Puppets. But then Cliff Burton dies in a bus crash.

The Nintendo Entertainment System conquers North America, ass-boots the video game industry out of the gutter, turns the ‘fad’ into a dominant technological revolution. It’s the best thing to happen to kids since comic books - Super Mario Bros? The Legend of Zelda?

Movieland was all about the prime John Hughes, plus Top Gun, Short Circuit, Labyrinth, Howard the Duck, Star Trek IV:The Voyage Home, Crocodile Dundee, Big Trouble in Little China, and TRANSFORMERS:THE MUTHAFUCKING MOVIE. Okay, so 1986 wasn’t all bad. Just shallow, and retarded. Also, my little bro was born, my parents divorced,Vancouver had Expo.

God Bless. n

The Orchid Highway

Running Down the Road, Trying to Loosen Their Load

By Ferdy Belland

A

t the rain-soaked winter intersection of Powell and Victoria in East Vancouver is found the Artist’s Resource Centre building, known to the West Coast arts community as simply The ARC. A former dockside warehouse funkily refitted into swank live/work garrets, the ARC is the command centre for Vancouver’s retro-mod garage-psychedelic road warriors, the Orchid Highway. Inside bassist-vocalist Rory Macdonald’s suite is found a mind-boggling, eye-watering survivalist’s cache of vintage musical gear… soundboards, echo units, oscilloscopes, sundry metal boxes packed with vacuum tubes, and racks of guitars and basses - none of which was built after 1966, it seems; this is the stuff rock’n’roll wet dreams are made of. It is here in these cozy retro confines that the band (lounging on overstuffed sofas and looking rather chic in their Beatle boots and their butterfly collars) is asked how it feels to finally release their long-awaited self-titled album – a stunningly huge-sounding collection of strong, smart electric pop-rock nuggets captured live by former Odds guitarist Steven Drake at Greenhouse Studios.

“It’s about fucking time is the general feeling for those in the band,” quips guitarist-vocalist Jamie Macdonald, who founded the Highway back in 1994. “Holy fuck, did it ever take a long time to get from Point A to Point B. A five-year album.

Soviet collective farms finished plans faster than we finish albums.”

“People live longer now, right?” Macdonald reasons. “It takes a longer time to die. It used to be 74 years old was the average male existence, now it’s 82 years. I think by the time we make it, we’ll probably be up to the 120s. At that rate, we’re already ahead of Def Leppard. If you pro-rate it against our expected life-spans, we’re doing fine.”

Naturally, the conversation turns to stem-cell research and the virtual halting of the human aging process, to which drummer Adrian Buckley adds, “But there’s gonna be a format change every 10 years, so you’re gonna have to upgrade, right? We’re all gonna be Beta for awhile and then we’ll be up to the DVD and then the DVD-R and you know where it’s goin’. It’s going to be awhile before stem-cell injections can halt the human reformatting process.”

After a beat, Buckley concludes, “I look forward to the coming 8-track years.”

The coffee-table eugenics talk moves to more pertinent matters involving the Orchid Highway game plan for this new album we’ve been raving about. “There’s a few things going on concurrently right now,” explains Rory Macdonald. “We’re spending the next few months aggressively shopping this internationally… we’ll see what we come up with there, but we’re already busy on the follow-up album we’ve been recording with Howard Redekopp, which is just as exciting, and we’ll have it out by the end of the year. In the ‘60s, bands usually released two albums a year, sometimes three. If we can release THREE albums by the end of 2007, we should be able to make up for lost time.”

The five Orchids are all equally funny and witty, and combined they’re a side-splitting humour-force to be reckoned with. Fitting, for a bunch of guys who write such punchy yet sunny Brit-rock; not one whiner in the bunch. Rory unveils the band’s cunning stunt of releasing cyber-singles online at regular intervals. “After we went broke on the road and realized that it was just unfeasible for us to keep bankrolling endless rounds of cross-Canada school-bus touring, as well as investing heavy into album recording, that the modern music industry should be mirroring the older, pre-LP market practices of releasing a single from an artist every seven or eight weeks or so, like Motown did, and releasing a full-length album once or twice a year. It’s something that’s been done before. It’s not impossible – we’ll see if we can pull it off.”

Several of the Orchids are involved in other musical endeavours. Guitarist Scott Perry writes and records his own material, as well as sidekicking in Todd Fancey’s own solo band. Keyboardist Derek Macdonald has been a full-fledged member of the Peppersands for almost two years. And Adrian Buckley can also be seen bashing the skins with the Tomorrows, another unsung Vancouver pscyh-rock outfit. Then there’s Jamie Macdonald: “I play songs in church for young children…”

“He’s also ‘Mr. Nasty,’” interjects Derek. “Mr. Nasty is a children’s performer on Sunny Bear Records: touching children everywhere. There’s a lot of great material to be had in the box set…”

And does Rory play elsewhere? Says he brusquely as he fiddles with his espresso maker: “No, I don’t whore around.” n

If we can release THREE albums by the end of 2007, we should be able to make up for lost time.

The Nerve February 2007 Page

PHOTO: WENDY D

A Brisk Walk With Mr. Bertrand

CONTENTS

The Blasters

Every so often the little guy hops on the big guy’s shoulders and declares himself RULER OF BARTERTOWN!

The Mathematical PHIL-osophies of Roots-Rock and Chinese Pottery

By Ferdy Belland

“

I can’t remember the last time we played in Vancouver,” remarks Phil Alvin of the Blasters. “This in itself means that it’s obviously been too long.

I love Vancouver a lot – it’s a great city. Whenever I think of Vancouver, I’m always thinking of ceramics.”

Besides being the founding guitarist-vocalist of one of America’s greatest international roots-rock exports, Mr. Alvin is a hyper-avid collector of Chinese pottery, as well. He also carries a PhD in mathematics from UCLA, and did peripheral work on artificial intelligence at university level (!), but we’ll get to that in a moment.

“Since Vancouver was one the earliest North American ports for incoming Chinese trade, and as a result opened up a lot of immigration from China to Canada, your city has always been a wonderful place for me to find Oriental ceramics. Next to San Francisco, you’ve got the largest Chinatown on the continent. There used to be a couple of great ceramic stores down Granville Street, on the other side of the bridge. I’ll probably have time to go browsing, since I just found out I’ll be flying into Portland and driving a van to Vancouver a day early to meet the other Blasters. I wanted to do that, for that reason.” Phil goes on to rave about his discovery of the myriad ecstasies of eBay, and the endless worlds it’s unlocked to feed his pottery cravings. And it would appear that Alvin has thousands of pieces, many dating back to pre-Confucian times. This isn’t the usual sort of thing one expects when speaking with the frontman of one of the most celebrated rockabilly-revival units in modern popular music, but one learns quickly to expect the unexpected when conversing with the fascinating, humourous, gentle, and deep mind of Phil Alvin.

The Blasters formed in 1979 in Downey, CA

by Phil and his hotshot guitarist brother Dave Alvin, who became the band’s primary songwriter.

Rounded out by bassist John Bazz and drummer Bill Bateman, the Blasters rapidly built up a solid reputation as earnest, engaging roots-rock champions (and one hell of a killer live act) in a dour pop-music era

The Nerve February 2007 Page 10

sodden darkly with the vile hellworks of the evil incarnate - the names Giorgio Moroder and Shaun Cassidy alone will chill the blood. The Blasters were accepted and befriended almost immediately by the Southern California punk community, most notably LA’s legendary X, whose band members would later collaborate back and forth with the Alvins.

And everyone’s favorite grumpy hypocrite Henry Rollins said: “In my mind, they were a great band that not enough people found out about. Bill Bateman is one of the best drummers there is, and then of course, there are the Alvin brothers. A lot of talent, for one band.”

Their recorded legacy includes the solid albums (all on Slash/Reprise) American Music (1979), the Blasters (1981), Non-Fiction (1983), Hard Line (1985), and a fistful of enjoyable live albums. Many musicologists title the Blaster’s sound as ‘American Roots Music,’ which wrinkles Phil’s brow.

“I hate the term roots-rock, because it sounds like it’s describing heads stuck in the mud,” Alvin laughs. “The term rock is okay with me, but does that mean that my music’s not blues and it’s not jazz, and I don’t know any of those names? If I look at a colour spectrum, there are no clear, sharp boundaries between red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet, but there’s still a meaningful order to them. There are categories that have meaning. But in the case of the names of genres of music, those categories are not meaningful.They are wrong.They cannot be true. If I play someone Elvis’ ‘That’s Alright Mama,’ it has a drummer, a standup bass player, an electric guitar player, and some guy singing. I ask someone: what genre of music is this? Some people say it’s rock and roll. Some people say it’s rockabilly.

Some people will say it’s rhythm and blues – that’s what Elvis called it. Now if I play BB King playing ‘Sweet Sixteen,’ with a 22-piece horn band, some people say that’s blues. And now I play them Arthur ‘Big Boy’ Crudup singing ‘That’s Alright Mama,’ where Crudup’s band has the exact same instrumentation as Presley’s, and ask them what kind of music that is… and people mostly say he plays blues.”

At this point Alvin is on a ranting roll, and his stream of consciousness rattles forth emphatically and breathlessly. “Now, if B.B. King plays blues with a 22-piece horn band, with long, extended notes, with not even a shuffle beat, you tell me he’s playing the same as Arthur ‘Big Boy’ Crudup? You’re not telling me what type of music he’s playing.You’re telling me what colour the musician is. Elvis Presley obviously has to play the same kind of music as Arthur ‘Big Boy’ Crudup plays, doesn’t he? It’s the same instrumentation, the same licks – what’s the difference? Maybe Elvis is inside of those fine lines between this style and that style, but there is some iconic representation of style from the genre of names that we give them.”

Alvin spends the next half hour discussing minstrel tunes, ‘race’ records, Al Jolson’s use of blackface, Bob Wills, and other whirlwind interconnections of American music and American society over the past century, and it takes this writer a few polite tries to gently steer the conversation back to the Blasters themselves… a half-hearted effort, to be honest, as Phil Alvin is far more eloquent and sweeping than, say, Nikki Sixx. One can listen to Phil Alvin for hours, and should.

“There is a tradition of music that carries a

I hate the term roots-rock… it sounds like it’s describing heads stuck in the mud.

great deal of our culture,” explains Alvin, “ and the reason why trying to define blues, or rhythm and blues, or country and western or whatever, finds itself pointing to things in the wrong place. By not acknowledging that all forms of western popular music are intertwined into the cultural whole of the western hemisphere, well… we’re doomed to make improper categorizations of music, based on things that have nothing to do with it.”

The Blasters’ reputation for heartfelt roots authenticity was more than verified with their work with the Jordanaires (Elvis Presley’s background vocalists), R&B sax legend Lee Allen, future Los Lobos baritone-saxophonist Steve Berlin, and boogie-woogie pianist Gene Taylor. Try as they might, the Blasters never quite broke through to large-scale mainstream acceptance, which was NEVER their fault, and certainly was absolutely no reflection whatsoever on the top-notch quality of their songwriting and their sonic presentation. Creative and personal differences at the fraternal level rifted the Alvin brothers further and further apart over the years until Dave departed the band in 1986 for a successful career of his own with his new band, the Guilty Men. “Oh, you know how it is with brothers,” Phil remarks. “Some days I love Dave, some days I hate Dave, but we’re brothers, right? And yes, we had a fine time together this last Christmas, thank you very much.”

Phil intermittently kept various lineups of the Blasters on the road (including occasional reunions of the original lineup) and filled in the gaps between touring with university stints. The Blasters returned to the studio for the first time in nearly two decades and released the 4-11-44 album in 2004, and it is with that respectable record’s lineup (Phil, bassist Bazz, plus drummer Jerry Angel and guitar wizard Keith Wyatt) that the Blasters will hit Vancouver’s Red Room nightclub (398 Richards) on Thursday February 22nd. Anyone not attending said concert is probably not worth their Brylcreem or their practiced neo-rockabilly sneers. n

f y

CONTENTS

Longmont Potion Castle

By Cameron Gordon

T

he crank call has undergone many changes in its lifetime. What started as a series of giggleinfused jabs about refrigerators running and guys named Ben Dover has since evolved into a very sophisticated art form.

Crank calls were a primary topic of discussion at the most recent UN World Summit in Tunisia.

Students at Princeton University are in the midst of a five-year study about the crank call’s impact on the rising cost of mass communications. At home, Canadian PM Stephen Harper will be launching an inquiry in late ’07 about domestic levels of “telephone abuse” and its effects on national productivity levels.

If you believe any of this shit, you’re as gullible as the thousands of fools who get duped by crank callers every year.

Bold-faced lying aside, there is a certain skill into placing a quality crank call and there’s perhaps no better practitioner of this craft than the man they call Longmont Potion Castle.

Not much is known about this mysterious figure although a quick Google search does net some clues. He apparently lives in suburban Denver and has been making and recording calls since the mid1980s. In theory, he attended Columbine high school as a teen, alongside future members of Big Head Todd & the Monsters (for what it’s worth). If reports are accurate, he has occasionally targeted celebrities with his calls, including actor Sidney Poitier and poocovered rocker G.G. Allin.

This is “Original Maple Syrup”.

What time would be good to bring your zebra down to you?

Quit callin’... I call the po-lice if you don’t quit fucking with my phones.

What time with your zebra is good for you?

- “Spencer Zebra”, from the album Longmont Potion Castle 5

Nerve:The legend of Longmont Potion Castle has become pretty widespread in underground comedy circles.

How did you go about getting your material to the sub-masses?

I recorded the cassettes and then it was really word of mouth from there. People seemed to have strong reactions to the calls, so I had a vague premonition that the “albums” would carry themselves somewhat. They exceeded those expectations when people went on to buy thousands of copies and to (most of) those people, I say thank you. The real distribution happened when an outside label was involved, and it did help, for sure.

The raw, random feel of your calls is a lot of the appeal. What kind of recording device or

devices did you use?

Just a regular-sized cassette answering machine with a built-in record feature. Once I had a C-90 filled, I would transfer portions of that onto another cassette master. And once the master was 90 minutes, the album was done. Eventually, I transferred the calls into the computer so I’d have digital versions. Sometimes, I would talk into a mic running through effects coming out of an amp, put the phone in front of the amp, and monitor the conversation on speaker phone.

Other times, I put the TV through the phone and people talked to the TV, and I have to say I’m surprised how many times those random TV snippets worked out. Anyway, I did try to experiment with it and keep things fresh Have you ever been the victim of crank calls yourself?

A label once put my phone number inside a Merzbow CD. I think that accounted for some bizarre calls I got in the middle of the night in ‘96. But no, please do not prank call me. However, I do accept prank faxes, prank online payments, things of that nature.

You recently played a series of live dates in California and Arizona although I understand it was more of a metal/noise/collage thing rather than a crank call thing. What does your live show consist of?

I’ve got this pedal that’s similar to a memory stomp box, and it’s loaded will all the thrash songs that appeared on LPC CDs - minus the guitar. I play live guitar along with it. It’s fast rock/metal/noise... a natural progression from phone pranks (laughs)!

Maybe a few people come to hear it. If they don’t, then they’re likely there to see another band. By the time you read this, I’ll have played the final show already - I sort of limited myself to just 2006 for this.

You manage to elicit some pretty extreme reactions from your targets. Have you ever been really scared or concerned about some of the threats thrown your way?

I tried to always keep it so far to the ridiculous side, and not too much on the scary side. But obviously that didn’t always matter, because some people got totally enraged to the point of full-on hostility. But I didn’t even really find that scary; I just knew I had struck gold on tape (laughs).

There were a few calls I did when I had tonsillitis - I guess those were pretty scary… But I would have to say that the worst call ever was this really old one, from early 1988 or so. This random number I called belonged to a bunch of religious freaks. Several of them all got on the phone at once and started speaking in tongues. They really thought I was satanic or something, and it was just really odd.

Hardly anyone’s ever heard it, and I know I don’t want to hear it. But I think the majority of the LPC stuff is just straightup comedy and I hope people agree.

Any chance of new LPC material surfacing in future?

No. It’s all over. Thank you very much. The box set Longbox Option Package represents the last LPC release. It has everything in it, so I don’t think it’s a shabby way to go. n

Do you process squid meat? Forty-four pounds.

It’s for a dog. It’s a new flavour. I invented it.

I don’t think so. Come down and see Kenny tomorrow.

You’re gonna being seeing something else if I show up down there.

Who is this?

Rassmussen. I’m gonna whoop you in the ass!

I haven’t heard that name in 50 years; that’s good.

So yeah, ready to get choppin’?

Yeah, come down, talk to Ralph.

You’re gonna be talking to a 440 lb. squid here in a second. I’m gonna whoop you in the ass!

- “Aqualamb”, from Longmont Potion Castle 5

Upper Canadian Blues

s m

Music notes from in, out and around Toronto, ON

n

s r d

s

Several CDs of his finest moments are available for purchase through www.LongmontPotionCastle.com. Late-Eighties-Vein is a good place to start and an exhaustive box set entitled Longbox Option Package is available if you look hard enough (the package had a very short print run and is currently out-ofprint, but it does pop up now and then on eBay or other auction sites). … And what does the typical LPC call consist of? Well, irreverence, confusion, more irreverence, more confusion - follow the formula and then rinse and repeat. His albums are a must-have for fans of absurdist humour but they’re also quite informative if you’re looking to learn about helium lambs, grover loaf, wasp jerky, coaxial flutter and/or Leprechaun Julius (all of the above have served as LPC subject matter at one time or another).

While Longmont Potion Castle recently entered a self-imposed hiatus from the crank call game, he did manage to find time to chat with The Nerve about his legacy, his motives, and about a life spent holding the line.

“I’d like to get into a baguette”

By Cameron Gordon the effort, followed by some chin-stroking from the audiences and some erections from record nerds. Good times… Jeff Healey has migrated his eponymous boozecan several paces east, landing Healey’s Roadhouse on Blue Jays Way and in the midst Tin Bangs? Can we recommend the Helsinki formula? of the Second City and ith 2007 still very much in its infancy, Wayne Gretzky’s restaurant. This will effectively Toronto braces for a blast from one of provide out-of-towners easier access to Wild its all-time favourite space/prog/postT and the Spirit,Teenage Head and April rock outfits, Do Make Say Think. You,You’re a Wine. Never a bad thing… Spikey Toronto punks History in Rust hits retail in mid-February and the the Bayonettes celebrated their latest 7” with an disc is suggested to be the band’s most majestic, ether-soaked release gig at Sneaky Dee’s, stuffing prestigious, pretentious statement to date. Here’s hungry mouths with their molten spew and other hoping it is. Several dozen live dates will support lame allegories. The slab is entitled We’re Doomed

W

and on the contrary, it’s great to see guys and ghouls like the Bayonettes keeping vinyl alive on these shores… Grunge throwbacks Germans will unveil their Cape Fear full-length in late February, with a scheduled release gig at the aforementioned Sneaky Dee’s. Lifting the best bits of 1990s-era Sonic Youth, Dinosaur Jr and Mudhoney, this disc should be as loud as it is clever as it is stupid. Look for fellow indie superstars the D’Urbervilles as the warm-up act….Much like their fey fwiend Henri Faberge, pop rockers the Bicycles somehow found themselves invited to play live on MTV Canada, effectively casting their collective net beyond CBC Radio 3 and carving another notch on their, yeah, collective bedpost. Didn’t see the performance myself but I’m sure it was a peppy affair, if nothing else… Kyp Harness is something of an afterthought when it comes to local singing/ songwriting royalty. This is a damn shame because this fella has been doing his thing and doing it well

for many, many years now. His latest full-length Fugitives is a another winner, full of smart, thinking man’s music. Buy it now … Tin Bangs is a pretty cool name for a band and luckily, these guys don’t suck. Far from it. Plenty of local talent have taken a stab at the Britpop/Mod template but few have done it with as much conviction as the Bangs have.

Sounding not unlike a more aggressive Psychedelic Furs or a more modular Bloc Party, these dudes have breakout written all over their admittedlyhandsome faces. Look for them to parlay a recent opening slot for the Killers into something special soon… Lastly, Pants and Tie is also a pretty cool name for a band and while they have not yet pressed as many buttons as the Tin Bangs, they are certainly special and right and good in their own right. Chris Trigg, a former collaborator with the electronic pop act Hot Chip, recently joined the band on bass and no doubt this coup might cinch these pants even tighter in FY07…. Later. n

The Nerve February 2007 Page 11

CONTENTS

By Chris Walter

C

obweb Society first entered my radar several years ago when lead guitarist Jay gave me their demo tape. As usual, I tossed the cassette into a desk drawer with all the other homemade tapes and CDs people have given me over time. After all, you can only listen to so many punk tapes recorded live in the basement on a boom box before your ears start to bleed just a little. Still, now and then I’d see a Cobweb Society poster and wonder if they sucked or not. Probably, I figured. Then, several months ago, Jay was clever enough to hand out their new DVD at Nardwuar and Bev Davies’ calendar launch. He knew there would be various scene leeches on hand, and that it might be a good way to get some promo. I took the video home, and instead of throwing it in that lost graveyard of home recordings, I actually got around to playing it. To my surprise, the video far exceeded my expectations. Not only was Nickels and Dimes professionally shot and recorded, but the music, which features the tough, sexy vocals of Carly Moew and the adroit guitar work of Jay Savvy, was a tight hybrid of punk and rock with metal flourishes. Why had no one told me about this band sooner?

The next step was to see Cobweb Society live. Fortunately, they were playing the fabulous and charming Cobalt Hotel, so my girl Jen

Jay: “We drove around the block and came back five minutes later to check out the scene. People had slices of pizza, they had smokes, some were wearing Cobweb Society T-shirts, and they all had smiles on their faces. It was nice to see them smile, with the few teeth that they had left.”

I ask them what can be done about the situation on the Downtown Eastside. “Raise the welfare rates,” says Jay.

“More low-income housing, adds Carly. “Like they promised. More funding for programs, instead of cuts. The saddest thing, though, is the mentally ill on the streets.”

“Instead of turning a blind eye, there needs to be help for the people,” Jay continues. “I think we should have a say of where our tax dollars are going.”

But Carly and Jay themselves don’t live in Point Grey; they live in a drug-infested apartment building not far from where I live in East Van. I ask them if they knew their building used to be called “The Squirrel’s Nest” because it was so full of crackheads. Four people overdosed and died there one Welfare Wednesday in the ‘90s. “We knew it used to be quite the crackerbox, but weren’t aware it was called the ‘Squirrel’s Nest’,” says Carly.

“Apparently it was a whorehouse too, then gutted in ‘86 for Expo,” Jay tells me. “Two people were shot and killed in the basement and the cops beat a guy to death outside.”

“Ah, home sweet home,” adds Carly.

Then I realize that I’ve spent most of the story talking about drugs and the Downtown Eastside. How unlike me! I try to salvage the piece by asking them what they think about the current state of punk rock.

Is mainstream acceptance a good thing or is it the end? “To be quite honest, I’ve been ignoring it,” says Jay. “I’ve been listening to the old stuff the whole time. I don’t even like the new stuff the old bands are coming up with. Punk’s not at its end; its just been trended out a lot. Just remember that music is art, and art can be portrayed in many different ways.”

Carly says, “It pisses me off that the mainstream thinks Avril Lavigne is punk rock. That’s bullshit: she’s a country singer and she sings about pussy-assed shit. Mainstream acceptance? Well, that’s probably a good thing, because society is less scared of it, and that gives bands more opportunities to make a living. Is it the end? ‘Punk’ to me is about speaking your mind, addressing issues, and exposing the truth. That can never die.” n

It pisses me off that the mainstream thinks Avril Lavigne is punk rock.That’s bullshit: she’s a country singer and she sings about pussy-assed shit

TheNot Smears As Dirty As You’d Think PHOTO: DEVON CODY

chronic bouts of clutziness). Original bassist Patti Smear left the band several years ago, moved to Seattle, shacked up with a dude, squirted out a baby and, last The Smears heard, she’d moved back to her home town of Copenhagen.

Whether she’s kicked her habit or not remains unknown.

“We haven’t heard anything from her since.

Hopefully she’s okay,” says frontwoman Rene Botha. “But yeah, we started off as a gong show at first and then got more refined.”

The Smears have never recorded an album. Six years is a long time to wait, but fans don’t seem to mind. In fact, for a local band without an album or any label behind them – yet – The Smears have built a decent following based on the quality of their live performance alone. However on March 9th The Smears will finally put out the first record in the history of the band.

Asthenic Process will be officially released at the Media Club in a show that will also feature The Scatterhearts CD release and a performance

by Ready. Set. Die. What’s up with the mumbo jumbo album name you ask? Well,

By Devon Cody

F

or a band that originally started off merely as a distraction to keep their original bass player’s mind off her drug habit, The Smears are proving to be so much more than your run-of-the-mill punk band.

They have jobs. They seem to bathe regularly. Hell, drummer Angela Creamer even shares her whisky with me throughout our interview.

In their six years of existence, there’s definitely been a process of evolution. To call them a just a punk band seems almost insulting.

“I just call it a rock band when people ask me. Simple as that,” says the current bassist, Squid (apparently his nickname is derived from his

The Nerve February 2007 Page 12

by definition, asthenic means: of, pertaining to, or characterized by weakening. According to Botha, who is the primary songwriter, most of the songs on the album were inspired during various states of heartache. The resulting product, therefore, is thick with afflicted sensuality.

“The only time I really write is when I’m depressed,” she says with a huge, beautiful smile. “It’s almost like my own therapy to get through it… my own psychiatry sessions. The second it’s done, I feel better about the whole situation.

The [album] symbolizes those times… the loss of strength. I’ve also got a strange fascination with medicine.”

As it turns out, prior to moving to Vancouver, Botha studied cellular biology at the University of Saskatchewan and was aspiring to go to med school. But, rock ‘n’ roll called and she followed, vowing that “there’s always med school to fall back on when rock ‘n’ roll is done with me.”

Considering her and her band’s strong work ethic, their ability to write fiercely catchy rock songs that flirt with mainstream appeal, and their stunning live shows, I’m willing to bet we won’t see her trading in her guitar for set of scrubs any time soon.

The Smears will also be playing this month in Kamloops on the 26th, Calgary on the 27th, Canmore on the 28th and Banff on the 29th. n

there’s always med school to fall back on when rock ‘n’ roll is done with me

PHOTO: JESSICA EATON

and I went to see them. Happily, the DVD wasn’t just studio trickery, and the band was everything that, by now, I was hoping they would be.

As on the video, they were catchy and hard-hitting with a good sense of timing. Singer Carly is quite easy on the eyes, and if you look at her instead of Jay, who is large and thuggish, Cobweb Society is a visual experience as well. I left the bar that evening knowing that’d I’d have to do a story on Cobweb Society soon.

So here we are. Jay Savvy and Carly Moew formed Cobweb Society in 2001, and in 2002, they released their self-titled CD. After that, it seems they laid dormant for a spell before adding new drummer Dave Affleck. In 2006, along with bassist Saul Hancock, they began recording a new EP, and not long after that, they filmed the Nickels and Dimes video. First, I wondered if they knew there is a band called Cobweb Society in the USA. Their American counterparts have only one Myspace friend: Tom. “Yeah we know,” says Jay. “Punky Radio in England told him to hand over the page, to burn in hell, and that his mother sucks cocks.”

“Which is probably true,” adds Carly.

Plagiarism out of the way, I asked them to tell me about the upcoming CD. Carly tells me that the Web of Confusion five-song EP is similar to a five-course meal. “You have all four food groups there: punk, rock, metal, and Mystery Meat.”

“You get a little taste of everything,” says Jay. “It’s been described as ‘pleasant trouble’ and ‘the feeling of emergency.’ The record focuses on real-life issues and includes a bonus video and a free sticker.”

Whose idea was it for Jay to climb into that slimy dumpster for the Nickels and Dimes video?

“That’s the best shot,” says Carly. “It was Jay’s idea. He figured the video needed some comic relief.”

“There’s also a shot of our drummer naked in an upside down shopping cart,” says Jay.

“It was our first video, and the song was about hookers and heroin, so naturally we headed for hell: the Downtown Eastside,” Carly tells me. “At the time, the Woodward’s building was in the middle of being torn down. It was halfway gutted and exposed for all to see. This was very symbolic for the video, as it was supposed to be used for lowincome housing. One memorable shot was the change drop outside Carnegie Hall. We had a hundred bucks worth of nickels and dimes left over from the shoot, so we figured we’d try something tricky. We had the girl in our video walk down the sidewalk beside Carnegie Hall along Hastings Street and steadily drop the change for half a block. As expected, all the junkies pounced on the coins and we filmed it.”

T

PHOTO: DEVON CODY

PHOTO: LEIGH RIGHTON

COBWEB SOCIETY Working Hard For Nickels and Dimes

I

b c B a e r j

w b s c s i S t g

f i a b a

CONTENTS

PHOTO: JESSICA EATON

Great Aunt Ida After Hours

By Adrian Mack

I

da Nilsen’s voice reminds me of Mo Tucker from the Velvet Underground, and she’s pleased to hear it. “That’s nice,” she says, on the phone from her Strathcona home. “I much prefer that to Sarah McLachlan. I’ve gotten that a couple of times, and I don’t really understand. It seems like a really simple comparison, you know? Girl plays piano.”

Yeah, that’s a retarded comparison. McLachlan makes clown music for half-baked New Agers whereas Nilsen’s work, in her solo incarnation as Great Aunt Ida, runs deep. How They Fly is a collection of 12 songs, all liminal and mysterious, with moments that alternately transport the listener into a nouvellevague movie and then a border-experience; there is genuine mystery, and melancholy throughout, not to mention that ineffable thing that discerning listeners recognize as grace. How They Fly, radiates

a gorgeously after-hours feel, even in its many upbeat moments, like the fleet-footed intro to “We Say No”, which reminds me of Vince Guaraldi (Nilsen likes that reference, too. “Well, I have that Peanuts record,” she says. “We did a cover of the ‘Christmastime [is Here]’ song in Radiogram. It was probably a little much.”)

Nilsen has been working late-shifts in bars since she was 17 years old, notably at the Sugar Refinery before the bailiffs turned up, and currently at the Railway Club. This must be significant to the lambent quality of her songs, the “inbetween feeling” she has spoken of elsewhere. She confesses, “Most were written after coming home from work. Maybe because it’s having to spend a period of time not really able to think about music or be creative in any way - by the time the shifts are over it’s like

The Golden Wedding Band

PHOTO: DEVON CODY

A Joyful Relapse Into the Past

By Devon Cody

I

n an age when a person can do just about anything online, from ordering a cheese pizza to a Ukrainian bride, folks who revel in the past can be difficult to wrap your head around. Such is the case with the gentlemen in the Golden Wedding Band. In fact, my attempts to dig up any information about them on the internet were largely fruitless, ending in disappointment – much like my girlfriend’s reaction when she realized the real reason those jewelry ads kept popping up on Google.

I could spend a lot of time yammering about what kind of music the Golden Wedding Band play, but the fact of the matter is: A) I’ve only got 500 or so words worth of space to work with here, and B) chances are if you’re reading The Nerve, you’ve got some intermediate to severe attention deficiency issues. Call it hokum jazz, mutant swamp-thing swing, Screamin’ Jay ragtime… whatever. All you really need to know is that it’s good. Really good. Like aural sex good.

The Golden Wedding Band was originally formed by Mike Soret of the Molestics fame – or infamy, depending on your perspective. Soret eventually left Vancouver for Calgary, no doubt attracted by the prospect of thought-provoking conversations about art with heavy equipment mechanics, or a

Premier whose affinity for a good drunk rivaled his own. Despite losing their front man, the band lived on without its head – like a cockroach - and three years later, they’ve finally released their debut album.

“After Mike left, different members of the band, specifically Doug [Kellam], Andrew [Burden], and Chris [Dean] rose to the forefront as being singers and leaders of the group and it really evolved into what you see now as the Golden Wedding Band,” explains sax player Colin Maskell. “Mike’s thing is self-deprecation and he’s brilliant. He’s absolutely brilliant… completely hilarious. [But] what happened for me when he left the band was that the atmosphere became lighter and more positive. We still have songs that are sad or serious, but we aren’t dwelling on the comedy of that.”

Nowhere is this lightness more apparent than in their live show, where you’ll find both youngsters and old fogies dancing away, while the wallflowers watch from the sidelines with shit-eating grins. Even the sourest old bugger or the most jaded young punk would be hard pressed to sit through a Golden Wedding Band set without cracking a smile. Agreeing, Burden adds, “the ragtime and the old jazz…

I love them. That music is a source of joy. It’s an incredibly powerful music.” It’s this joyful abandon that brings to mind all the positives of a punk rock show. And while it’s not really present sonically, or aesthetically with the band — save for the hunk of metal in Burden’s septum — there is that undercurrent, that energy, that so often gets associated nowadays with punk rock.

“If you listen to a live recording of Charlie Parker… man, that guy’s punking out on that saxophone,” says bassist Clive Jackson. “Back in the ‘40s, he’s punking out as much as any of the Pistols guys.”

He’s got a point. Despite its disparity, jazz - much like punk rock – also got louder and more intense in retaliation to all the schlop that was being shat out in the ‘70s. Maskell adds this bit of food for thought: “To me it’s got to do with the drugs that people were taking,” says the group’s jazz Yoda.

“That’s kind what was going on with Miles. He was going off the deep end in the ‘70s. He was getting way out there. And that’s reflected in the music.”

You’ve got to wonder what it’ll take to remedy the current state of pop music… a messiah, a martyr, or a really good chemist. n

something is pent-up. I don’t know where I would get that from otherwise.”

Great Aunt Ida’s debut, Our Fall, was no less than the delight anybody would have expected, based on Nilsen’s humbling resumé - the Beans, Radiogram, the Violet Archers - but How They Fly is a leap forward. Not surprisingly, GAI’s stock is rising accordingly and Nilsen must be counting the 2006 Best-of lists as we go to press. Significantly, How They Fly came a lot easier to Nilsen than the first album.

“I was definitely trying to force it a little bit more with the first one,” she reveals, “but these songs just came. “ Well, there is that ‘thing’ that wanders the earth and then conducts itself through certain artists, according to Neil Young among others, who all claim that “writing” a song is almost indistinguishable

from “chanelling” it. Nilsen doesn’t protest. “I wrote them all in about 15 or 20 minutes,” she says. In the interest of cosmic symmetry, let us note here that Nilsen’s “go-to” record is Neil Young’s Comes a Time.

There is of course another dimension to the Nilsen mystique, which I tentatively bring up as the conversation ends, and which Nilsen handles gracefully. Is she aware, I ask, of the impact she has even when she isn’t making her keyboard, accordion, or anything else sing? Is she aware of her “presence”, her silent charisma, which is powerful? “Yes, I guess I’m aware of that,” she answers, before adding with a giggle, “But everybody’s special and different in their own way!” It is, of course, Nilsen’s amiable way of telling me to shut the hell up. But isn’t it also exactly what anybody’s Great Aunt Ida would say? n

The Bughouse 5

By Adrian Mack

I

Blazing Fists of Compassion

’ve admired both Butch Murphy’s hair and his band for some time now. Indeed, 16 years into their game, Bughouse 5 is one of the things that makes Vancouver go round, perhaps coming second only to the Lions Gate Bridge in terms of their magnificence when viewed from a distance, and yet significantly less costly to maintain.

Of course, aside from Butch, the only other member from Bughouse Mk 1 is drummer Taylor Little. How has he managed to hang in there so long? Blackmail? Murphy provides the answer when The Nerve calls him at home to discuss the release of Bughouse’s fifth album, 24 Hour Charlie, on the mighty Northern Electric label.

“I guess Taylor is the one guy who’s willing to try to play everything,” Murphy suggests, adding, “We’ve had lots of punching matches, me and him, so it’s sort of odd that we’d be the only ones from the original line-up.” Having observed the wandering Bishop Murphy for many a year now, this statement comes as no surprise. In fact, the Bughouse 5 has always scared me a little, because hitting each other and everyone else seemed to be mandated into their act, even if Murphy himself, a self-confessed “nervous person”, is perhaps one of the biggest girl’s blouses out there. As we begin our call, he’s all excited about a phone call from drummer Little about a good review for 24 Hour Charlie in a local rag. “He never calls me,” Murphy blurts, clearly delighted.

With bthis in mind, the first thing I noticed about 24 Hour Charlie is how emotional it is.

The second thing is its diversity.

For a band that has been unfairly saddled with the r*c**b*l*y tag for too long now, the new album alternately reminds the listener of the Blasters,Van Morrison’s Them,

and even, on the amazing “Bricks and Stones”, the early Stones taking on Merseybeat. That particular song ends in a torrent of words and unabashed sentiment that might be the best thing I’ve ever heard them do. There’s a reason for its peculiar fervor. “It’s about my father,” Murphy explains. “I totally stumble over the words, but I was actually almost crying when I was recording that. (Bassist) Kevin Grant was all choked up when we were doing it too, because he knew my dad had passed away not too long prior to that.”

Murphy’s sensitivity might be the defining characteristic of the album, as a matter of fact.

And his compassionate, lived-in lyrics are never less than authentic. As he says of the album’s title track (and his favourite), “Actually that comes from Dizzie Gillespie talking about Charlie Parker riding the subway in New York City when he was going through a kind of psychosis, at the end of his life, and it comes from the fact that when I worked on the DTES, I knew this guy who was basically a journalist who was gonna work for a major Canadian publication. I got to know this guy quite well, and he was quite an intelligent person, but so much of a crack addict that he couldn’t see turning it around at his age, which at that time would have been the ripe old age of 45-46. It’s an addiction song. A gospel song for the addicted.”

With a soft chuckle, he adds, “I have no experience in that area myself.” n

The Nerve February 2007 Page 13

MARCH 11 MARCH 13 MARCH 14 MARCH 16 MARCH 18

PACIFIC COLISEUM – VANCOUVER REXALL PLACE – EDMONTON PENGROWTH SADDLEDOME – CALGARY BRANDT CENTRE @ IPSCO PLACE – REGINA MTS CENTRE – WINNIPEG TICKETS AT ALL THE USUAL OUTLETS

The Nerve February 2007 Page 14

SUNDAY MARCH 18 PNE FORUM – VANCOUVER TUESDAY MARCH 20 NORTHLANDS AGRICOM – EDMONTON WEDNESDAY MARCH 21 STAMPEDE CORRAL – CALGARY THURSDAY MARCH 22 PRAIRIELAND PARK – SASKATOON SATURDAY MARCH 24 BURTON CUMMINGS THEATRE – WINNIPEG

FRIDAY FEBRUARY 23

COMMODORE BALLROOM

APRIL 9

FRIDAY MARCH 30

WITH SPECIAL GUESTS

INTO ETERNITY TICKETS ALSO AT ZULU AND SCRATCH

FEBRUARY 11

CRADLE OF FILTH COMMODORE BALLROOM

WITH SPECIAL GUESTS ATTACK

FEBRUARY 16

GOMEZ/BEN KWELLER COMMODORE BALLROOM

IN BLACK

COMMODORE BALLROOM

FEBRUARY 18

BOB WEIR & RAT DOG COMMODORE BALLROOM

TICKETS ALSO AT SCRAPE

FEBRUARY 22

GLENN KOTCHE & NELS CLINE RICHARD’S ON RICHARDS

ALL AGES

CROATIAN CULTURAL CENTRE

FEBRUARY 24

JETS OVERHEAD & GOLDEN DOGS THE PLAZA CLUB

The Nerve February 2007 Page 15

Sparklehorse

CONTENTS

Wields its Magic

By Leela Monroe continues. “A lot of times when I have a song, and if it sounds maybe trite or boring or pedestrian or contrived, I try to make it sound like they’ve been buried in the sand for 10 years and discovered by someone and then played on a record player.”

The effect is often supported by distorted vocals. “Yeah,” agrees Linkous, “I like it when it sounds like it’s been, I don’t know, transmitted via some satellite or something.”

Light Years ends on an unusual note with the title track. Unlike the rest, I find it almost (slightly) disturbing, albeit it in a pretty way, exuding sadness and sometimes almost reminding me of a funeral. Linkous tells me, “That instrumental piece is heavily influenced by a piece of music that’s been my favorite for a long, long time by Gavin Bryars, called ‘Jesus Blood Never Failed Me Yet’. It’s a 45-minute piece of music where, in the early ‘70s, he recorded this hobo on the beach in Brighton, England, singing this little religious song. He taped it and looped it over and over and built this beautiful orchestral thing behind it where it starts from this sparse, subtle thing of this old man’s voice and ends in this beautiful, articulated, flowering, metamorphosing orchestration.”

So - Linkous’ grand experiment rolls on again.

After the five years hiatus, and much to the glee of avid fans, Sparklehorse will also be touring. Asked what we can expect, Linkous admits, with a laugh, “A lot of times when I’ve toured in the past, my shows were tinkering on the edge of disaster. I think a lot of people were compelled toward that sort of thing. But I have a really good band now and it’s pretty tight, so I hope people aren’t disappointed that I’m not teetering on the edge of collapse all the time!”

Sparklehorse fans and curious music seekers can catch Sparklehorse at Richards on Richards on February 15. n PHOTO: TTOM SACCENTI

“

I live on top of a very tall mountain,” Mark Linkous explains, calling from his home in North Carolina. “It’s really cold here.”

Linkous is the founding member and enduring brain trust behind Sparklehorse, a Mojo-sanctioned project of not insignificant pop genius which dropped off the radar after its 2001 release It’s a Wonderful Life.

With Dreamt for Light Years in the Belly of a Mountain, however, Sparklehorse has finally returned with an album that seems to convey, to these ears, a sense of ‘earth magic’. It’s something that a refreshed Linkous puts down to his renewed relationship with the land.

“I’ve been living in the country most of my life,” he explains. “I grew up in Virginia and I spent a lot of time outdoors as a kid. Then I moved to New York for a while and then to California, then I moved back to the South. Back in the country. I love being remote and kind of isolated.

There’s bears up here on the mountain, and rattlesnakes, and everything.”

Linkous’ rural homecoming aside, much of the interest over Light Years is centred on his collaboration with hip-hop producer and Gnarls Barkley hitmaker, Dangermouse. “There’s alot of hip-hop that I really like,” Linkous states, “especially production wise.

Even on Top 40 stuff. Not many elements but some of the few elements that it does have are just wicked! Drum sounds especially.”

Linkous continues, “For this record, I’d been listening to a lot of Beatles, specifically the mid to late period Beatles. And then someone sent me that Grey Album - I think it was my manager - and I didn’t listen to it for the longest time. When I finally listened to it, I loved it!” Enter Grey eminence Dangermouse. “A few days later we were on the telephone, and then a few weeks later he showed up at my studio door. He ended up working on three

Lamps and speakers are no substitute for friends... or four of the songs on this album.”

The partnership evidently has had an impact on future Sparklehorse projects. “We’re doing a record together right now. I think some of it might be a little more hip-hop than what I’ve done alone. And

don’t really know too many indie rock bands. If you told me their names....”

Despite Linkous’ apparent distance from the sweater-iffic world of the average indie-retentive type, Sparklehorse has long featured certain

I try to make songs sound like they’ve been buried in the sand for 10 years, and then discovered by someone and played on a record player.

I’m doing a record with one of my favourite musicians, Christian Fennesz. A lot of the music I listen to is pretty abstract electronic music and Christian is my favourite. Oval, and Microstoria, and things like that. I like some stuff too with beats like Boards of Canada. I lean more towards that than indie rock. I

aesthetic hallmarks that have elevated the Linkous brand amongst the more discerning music nerds.

The scratchy and used-sounding quality of his work in particular; the result, he insists, of “never really learning to record things properly.”

“I’ve always recorded by trial and error,” he

Nels Cline and GlennWilco-Mates Kotche Run Free T

he least egocentric guitar God you could hope to meet, Nels Cline played three shows here last jazz festival, starting with a smokin’ electric duo at Rime with local drummer Dylan van der Schyff. Inhabiting a molten territory not yet solidified into rock or jazz, the two men had amazing chemistry for players who had just met, driving each other to blistering levels of intensity.

At the Cultch, Nels’ (non-vocal) trio, the Nels Cline Singers, were jazzier, with tunes ranging from “long freak outs” to “winsome ballads” (“what we always do - a little of this, a little of that,” Cline offers with characteristic humility). The set included a haunting tune on a 12-string borrowed from local avantsavant journalist Alex Varty (“that’s a great guitar,” Varty muses; a fan, he’ll be in the audience on the 22nd). Cline’s playing reached its most dangerous level of intensity a couple of nights later, during the Orkestrova Electric Ascension’s take on Coltrane.

He seemed possessed by something well-nigh demonic at times; the dark glower that overcame him set a striking contrast to his affable off-stage manner – an observation, he tells me, that others have made before.

Wilco drummer Glenn Kotche will join Cline for his February 22nd Vancouver return, relocated

The Nerve February 2007 Page 16

from the Red Room to Richards on Richards.

Cline informs me that Kotche, too, has a strong background in jazz. “He’s quite the educated, college-trained drum corps/ mallet percussion guy. He has a great interest in free improvisation, particularly people like Paul Lovens and Tony Oxley and that school of percussion, but also he’s very into (VU drummer) Moe Tucker and (the Band’s) Levon Helm.” While van der Schyff hits hard, Kotche can be quite subtle, so I’m most curious to hear how this very different pairing will sound. Both men will do solo sets, with Cline starting things off on electric guitar, then will share the stage, doing “a combination of improvisation and structure.” Sonic Youth fans should cross their fingers and hope Cline and Kotche do their instrumental interpretation of Lee Ranaldo’s “Karen Koltrane.”

Nels Cline has a long history with rock.

Pre-Wilco, he was part of legendary country-punk ensemble the Geraldine Fibbers, fronted by Carla Bozulich, and played in a couple of different combos with Mike Watt (check the licks on Contemplating the Engine Room). With all this proximity to vocals, I was curious if he’d ever actually sung. “Only in LA,” he says. “Last year, at the Largo Pub in West Hollywood, I did a solo electric guitar medley, interspersed

with improvisation, of cover songs.

I did ‘Look through my Window’ by the Mamas and the Papas, ‘Tom Violence’ by Sonic Youth, ‘I Hate Myself for Loving You’ and ‘I’ve Got No Answers’ by Joan Jett, and a Low song. It was all pretty weird...

After that, some friends of mine and I did an all-Neil Young set, and I sang ‘Hippie Dream.’” There’s a recording of Cline singing, on the Minutemen tribute Our Band Could be Your Life – he does a jaw-droppingly hot medley of two of his faves, “West Germany” and “Self-Referenced” (“How can I believe in books when my heart lies to me? ...I’m full of shit!”). Laughs Cline, “Hearing me sing is not that thrilling, believe me!”

Anyone who likes hearing cookin’ guitar playing, however – rock, jazz, or otherwise – should check out Richards on Richards on February 22nd.You won’t regret it. n

PHOTO: Beth Herzhaft

By Allan MacInnis

Nels Cline, as played by famed filmmaker David Lynch

PHOTO: Beth Herzhaft

h

CONTENTS REVIEWS Amon Tobin Bloodstone/Esther’s Ninja Tune Easy, children, don’t get too excited. This is just a single.You’ll have to wait until March to hear the real follow-up to 2002’s Out From Out Where. In the meantime, this download will let you sample two tracks from the upcoming Foley Room and a tasty b-side created among other projects. “Bloodstone” is really downbeat with a kind of Books quality to it – being based around a violin waltz, later accented by a transdimensional piano and the Kronos Quartet – but it’s “Esther’s” that gives me a chubby in anticipation. Swirling mangled wasps, a Harley Davidson, surf guitars, and ethereal piano around an otherworldly beat will see that track become an indie/rave classic. I dare you to listen and not get all goose pimpled. The ides of March are gonna kick ass this year.

- Filmore Mescalito Holmes

traditional Jewish wedding music; and Berner is a Jew, armed with an accordion, and a caustic comic’s tongue. The Wedding Dance of the Widow Bride is a collection of songs that showcase sombre accordion, fits of violin, and shrewd, plodding percussion. Lyrically, the album explores the idea of happiness built on the misfortune of others. Aside from the blunt, if not downright macabre ranting, comic gold of lines like, “nothing but the horrifying agony of childbirth for you to look forward to now, so weep bride, weep”, Berner’s music has that thing – much like fellow accordion slinger David P. Smith – that makes it impossible to dismiss it as schticky or some kind of lame talent show joke. Even the spastic rendition of Leonard Cohen’s “Queen Victoria” somehow manages to not come off as a complete butchering. Mr. Berner, it seems, is not only a brazen Jew… but also a bastard poet.

- Devon Cody

Away Ri’o!

All Things Shining Aaargh!

Hailing from Vancouver’s island-locked sister, Victoria’s Away Ri’o! has built a fine album fit for hazy hours lost in thought. As their record, All Things Shining, creeps by, a trail of furry backwoods folk is left in its wake. Sleepy guitars and soft melodies fill the record, and, every so often, someone picks up some drumsticks or a bass. A slew of back-up singers also surfaces periodically to have their say. But the lead vocalist that comes with Away Ri’o! is what’s truly alluring. Singer Joey MacDonald has the kind of tore-up voice that sounds as if he’s living hard to die young. In fact, MacDonald sounds similar to a cross between Tindersticks’ Stuart Staples and Tom Waits. And it’s these smoke-and-whiskey vocals that make Away Ri’o! not just another run-of-the-mill folk rock band. Ultimately, All Things Shining is ideal for gentle nights filled with too many whiskies on ice.

- BRock Thiessen

Big Trouble in Little China Diamond Cutter No List Stoner chord progressions and guttural vocals fill my head - this is some heavy shit. For me though, without weed, Diamond Cutter doesn’t really take off until “Run Man Run”, the third song in. Here, the lead guitar climbs all over the rhythm like a six-year old on a Jungle Gym, and I found myself swinging hair that I don’t have.

I’ll never be in the front row at a Big Trouble in Little China show with my Bic lighter in the air, but that’s probably because I gave up the herb. Oddly, I felt as if I had been smoking pot after listening to this. Damn, I think I lost my clean time…

- Chris Walter

Barr Summary 5RC A summary of Barr’s album Summary: hyperpersonal lyrics delivered in a spoken-word format over two-finger piano and a drum. A taste of Barr’s lyrical prowess from Summary’s “Complete Consumption of Us Both”: “I can’t believe this is actually happening. I can’t believe this is actually happening. I cannot believe this is actually happening. I can’t believe this is actually happening.” Another illustration of Barr dropping science, but this time from Summary’s “Summary”: “I’ll talk about everything. I’ll talk about every inch of this thing, this record, every square fucking inch. I’ll talk this thing into the ground and I will say every word so fucked up.” A summary of my future plans regarding Barr’s Summary: never play it again.

- BRock Thiessen The Belushis Thunderballs CHL The sophomore release from Vancouver’s sleaze-rocking greaseball funsters is a superb followup to their debut effort Rich in Broken Glass, which was also hella cool - and the trials and tribulations weathered by the Fearsome Foursome are worn proudly on their jail-tattooed knuckles; half-hidden slams to cheapskate promoters, sweaty groupies writhing topless in the front row, overdriven halfstacks, the Big Fight of the Little Guy, and how life really is nothing more than an endless series of beer-blotted moments involving tawdry sex, cheap drugs, and high-octane rock and roll. The album’s production is thicker, tastefully bass-heavy, and somewhat more muted than the live-off-the-board Stoogeout of RIBG, but if a third of the horrible rumours surrounding the making of this record is true, then Thunderballs is a miracle of modern engineering. The four Belushis take turns growling and belting out their songs, and you know what? They never needed that ratfuck Shawn Belushi anyway. The various Belushis bring their own take on C’Mon, Zeke, Leatherface, the Dolls… everyone. Stun-gun riffs, wank-out leads, four-on-the-floor drums, and train-kept-a-rollin’ bass rumble. Fuck yeah!

This is your new favorite street rock album of the New Year. Now pop the top on that Pilsner can and get rocking, for fuck’s sake. I’m already halfway through the sixpack, you lameass.

YEAH! - Johnny Kroll

Black Diamond Heavies Every Damn Time Alive Arguably one of the hardest working acts on the planet, Tennessee’s Black Diamond Heavies have spent the last two years playing soulful, bluesy rawk to packed roadhouses at home and overseas. Every Damn Time is a healthy slice of these notorious live shows: sweaty, raucous and highly combustible. And by gum, the Heavies know how to bring it, especially on opening track “Fever In My Blood” and the pounding finale “Guess You Gone And Fucked It All Up,” but they also know how to conjure up the Soul and give them old folks some slow dancing time. “All To Hell” is Sam Cooke on the wrong side of the Mason-Dixon, while “Stitched in Sin” will have you testifying like a soused Southern belle. Hard to believe this album was recorded without any guitars, but listening to these guys work the keys and kit, you won’t even miss them. Highly recommended.

- Adam Simpkins The Bloody Hollies Who To Trust,Who To Kill,Who To Love Alive “Blues run the game,” sang the sage Jackson C. Frank back in those miserable ‘60s. Little did he know that his words would still be alive and well in Twenty-ought-seven. But the Bloody Hollies aren’t moping about past regrets and marrying the bottle, oh no – they find pleasure in their blues. For their third album, Sin Diego’s finest fished some giant riffs from the Delta and fried them up with the spirit of the Motor City. Quivering vocals, greasy riffs – it makes the Von Bondies sound more like Lawrence Ferlinghetti than Arthur Fonzarelli (note to self: nice one). And while the Hollies, sorry, the Bloody Hollies aren’t exactly breaking new ground here, WTT WTK WTL is gassed-up, nononsense, up the bracket, balls out, deal or no deal, fight to the finish, ready to rumble rock and roll. Ain’t no cry babies here, boy.

- Adam Simpkins

which is “Walt Whitman”, a poppy hook-fest of a number that makes me feel a little bad about all my rockabillyin’-mudslinging earlier. But you never can be too careful. Thankfully this time everything has turned out alright, and as far as the music is concerned, the maturity, and refined grasp of rock’n’roll and all its endless beauty displayed here make it quite clear why the Bughouse 5 should never be dismissed, no matter what genre they are erroneously associated with.

- Jenny C The Boils Hockey Anthems TKO I thought that the Boils were from Boston, but it turns out that they’re from Philadelphia. No matter, they probably think that Vancouver is a suburb of Toronto. Anyway, where were we?

Oh, yeah, the CD review… In contrast to From the Bleachers (2005) which contained 25 tracks, Hockey Anthems is merely a 6 song EP that the Philadelphia Flyers commissioned them to write. Apparently, the Flyers are already playing this at games, and now you too can sing these rowdy punk anthems while spilling beer in the bleachers or at home in front of the TV. The Boils, it seems, are hockey fanatics on a par with our beloved Hanson Brothers. Perhaps we should arrange a friendly little game…

- Chris Walter The Compulsions Laughter from Below EP Independent Critics have gone so far as to say the Compulsions are “the heir apparent to Guns N’ Roses’ long vacant hard rock throne”. They aren’t. We all know that Axl and the employees of his Chinese Democracy would drop a Reverse Tiananmen Square Leglock or maybe a Spinning Kim Jong Il Combo on whoever’s ass was brash enough to challenge GNR’s reign.

Right? Axl’s on the Creatine… he’s bulked up.

All badass with his cornrows an’ shit. Fuck, I bet he could take on all four of these wimps at once, battle royal-style. Having said all that, the Compulsions really aren’t half bad. Greasy Keith Richards inspired guitar licks, driving blues-rock bass and drums… top that with the attitude of an ornery drunk after getting the snot kicked out of him and whaddya got?

Not much to complain about, that’s what. Still, whichever of these twats decided they should cap off a decent record with a really half-assed, redundant, white-boy reggae track deserves a good punch in the yap.

- Devon Cody Copilots S/T Independent Vancouver folks normally know Mr. Skye Brooks as the fantabulous drumming sensation for bands like Fond of Tigers and Swanvista, but with the Copilots he comes out front to showcase his songwriting skills as a guitaristvocalist. Having the unbelievably understated guitar mastery of his Swanvista sidekick Chad MacQuarrie can’t spoil the broth, either.

Brooks’ songs have a bouncy, loping beat, making them close cousins to the intelligent melodicism and the thoughtful lyricism we Vancouverites usually discover through Caleb Stull and the Parlour Steps. And the songs also feature odd meters which don’t sound like odd meters (“Atavistic” is a good example), which is the way odd meters are supposed to be played in a true songwriting sense. If it doesn’t groove, it doesn’t move. I can’t even name any mainstream major-label bands I can readily compare this to. Guess that means that I’m spending more quality time listening to lasting, gripping music being written and recorded and performed by Vancouver’s bulging gunnysack of incredible songwriters and incredible bands.

And I’m better for it. And you’ll be better for it, too.

- Ferdy Belland

can produce a good live performance, it won’t be long before they’re seen supporting the likes of U2.

- Stephanie Heney Daath The Hinderers Roadrunner I have a headache and feel like shit after sitting here for the 48 minutes that Daath pounded its brand of multiple genre metal into my jock.You get thrash, black, death and melodic metal all rolled up into one album, but I’m sorry Daath, I just can’t take it or recommend it to other metal maniacs. Even though “The Hinderers” has variety, it lacks a commensurate amount of quality. The musicianship is very good, and international superstar guitarist James Murphy (Testament) produced, but when you decide to create a Black metal dance song called “Dead on the Dance Floor”, it overshadows any good you might do. Am I being hard on Daath? Yes I am, but it was hard on me. Plus, after I read guitarist Eyal Levi say, “We’re exploring the inverted tree of life. It’s a Kabalistic concept.

There are 13 points on the tree and each one of the songs is representative of the points,” I don’t feel so bad for bashing these pretentious fucks.You’re making metal, not opening the doors of perception, chum. Better than most, not good enough for all, I’m the Hinderer that Daath warned you about.

- David Von Bentley Die! Die! Die! S/T S.A.F. Well, here’s something different. This is the debut album from a three-piece from Auckland, New Zealand, and it is an extremely pleasing mix of Atari Teenage Riot and Bis with elements of Shellac, the Fall and Melt Banana. This is high octane, shouty, anxious pop-punk-rage with perfectly raw guitars that rip through each short track with an intensity and controlled commotion that is just perfect. Upon opening up the sleeve for more information, suddenly everything makes sense: this was recorded and mixed by Steve Albini.

His trademark engineering and production style is the perfect touch for DDD, creating a fine balance between racket and precision.

Garnering positive press wherever they go, they have already toured with Wire and Franz Ferdinand. It is as unfortunate as ever that John Peel is no longer around to champion acts like this, as I’m sure he would have loved them.

- Stephanie Heney Die Mannequin How to Kill How to Kill Music Any band with a bassist named Sparkles concerns me right from the get-go. But I’ve got Iggy on my side (evidently Die Mannequin started out as a Stooges cover band) so I press onwards knowing that the candy-swirledcoloured disc has to be an oversight and there’s a tasty gem or two waiting just on the other side of play. Sigh. There isn’t. I’ve been promised inklings of Sonic Youth, Queens of the Stone Age, and Blonde Redhead, but this three-piece from Toronto seems entirely too squeaky clean for any of that. I mean maybe there’s some Iggy in there somewhere but he’s been covered in bleach and scrubbed to the bone, I can’t find even the slightest bit of “Down on the Street” or “I Got a Right” ‘cause the whole thing reeks so bad of disinfectant.

Gross. That said, I do have to nod my head to the strong female vocals, no complaints there, these chicks definitely have chops, it’s just too bad they’re not in a better band. At the very least I should congratulate the band’s record label “How to Kill Music,” seems to me they couldn’t have picked a more appropriate record to release. Well done.

- Jenny C

of rock with a tinge of soul that just can’t be faked. Mr. Editor I salute you, and Dollhouse?

You saved me a trip up a lot of stairs with a heavy high-powered rifle in hand.

- David Von Bentley Explosions In The Sky All Of A Sudden I Miss Everyone Temporary Residence When I mention Texas post-prog quartet Explosions In The Sky in the same sentence as Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Mogwai, Sigur Rós, and Kinski, I do so not as imitators, but as if they are among equals. The cinematic illustrations formed by their simple outfit of two guitars, bass, and drums –swelling feedback one moment and subtle ambiance the next – are on the same cathartic par as anyone else in the game today. Plus, they refuse to play Clear Channel venues and, despite the rousing success of 2003’s The Earth Is Not A Cold Dead Place, they have now released their fourth independent album, when they easily could have fucked off to a major label. All this makes EITH pretty hard not to love.

- Filmore Mescalito Holmes Benjy Ferree Leaving The Nest Domino Once upon a time, a boy named Benjy Ferree packed up his bags and decided to make it big in the land of Hollywood. Like many young boys and girls, he planned to become a big-time movie star. But when things didn’t work out, the moms and dads of Hollywood hired young Benjy to watch their children. However, he quickly tired of his life guarding the children and quit Hollywood to pursue a new dream: the dream of being a folk singer. So he moved back home and met a man named Brendan Canty. Brendan played in a band named Fugazi and told Benjy he’d produce his music.

Shortly thereafter, the pair started working and whenever problems arose they just drew inspiration from Benjy’s heroes: Daniel Johnston and Tom Waits. Soon they had an album full of great folky rock songs and frontporch whistlers, which they named Leaving the Nest. Both Benjy and Brendan lived happily ever after. The end - BRock Thiessen Frosted Tipz Head vs. Hips Independent Well, well, well. Looks like Edmonton is really trying its best to get on the map. The city continues to release a slew of albums from its vibrant scene, though none of which are really causing much commotion away from home.

Frosted Tipz has an advantage, in that its debut EP is polished and ambitious, but the flashiness often tends to overshadow occasionally formulaic songwriting. The title track is the band at its best: angular guitars, sassy vocals and a pretty killer solo, but things fall a bit flat after this initial burst of excitement. “Dear Disc Jockey” was already done (and poorly at that) by Jet and “Lifestyles Of The Fabulously Boring” is trite Pink fare. Overall, Frosted Tipz is undoubtedly a talented band, but with aspirations prematurely set on high, and subject matter far too pedestrian to make much of an impact.

- Adam Simpkins The Golden Wedding Band My Best Friend Strathcona When modern music just doesn’t do it for you anymore, it seems nowadays you’ve really got only three options for salvation: start rapping; form a band, get real good at playing the skin flute for record execs, then go artsy as a means to heal your resulting emotional wounds; or, dig back into the past a few years for inspiration.

In the case of the Golden Wedding Band, they went back about 80 of ‘em. Imagine the music of the ‘20s and ‘30s, steeped with an extreme distaste for Fleetwood Mac and a soft spot for punk rock, new wave, and jazz, and you’ll begin to form an idea of what the Golden Wedding Band is all about. Toss in Screamin’ Jay Hawkins vocals for almost half of the record and you’ve got something pretty special, and totally unique.

The band is a tough one to top when it comes to their vitalizing live performances. One might worry that that quality might not be captured in a record, but it is… and then some.

- Devon Cody

ALBUM

Geoff Berner The Wedding Dance of the Widow Bride Jericho Beach Geoff Berner is on a mission to “drag klezmer music into the bars kicking and screaming.”

In short and general terms, klezmer music is

The Bughouse 5 24 Hour Charlie Northern Electric I have to say that I’ve tried to avoid this band for a while now because of one simple fact: I thought they were rockabilly. After being held hostage by rockabillies for the better part of eight weeks once upon a time ago, I have done my very best to keep it and me far, far apart.

To be honest, I was even a little nervous about putting this disc in my CD player, half expecting a secret homing device to go off and lead a parade of well-greased pompadours right to my apartment door. But I was wrong… and not just about the homing device. The Bughouse 5 have put out a solid record full of classic tales of countrified love ending in rock’n’roll debris.

With lyrics full of emotional honesty and melodies that engage the listener, these songs are well suited to those lonely nights by the campfire out-on-the-range. Or, if you’re more of the wood chopping type, there’s plenty a song on here to get things swinging, the best of

Crush Luther S/T High 4 New signings to Toronto’s (also new) label High 4 Records (owned by Goldfinger’s Darrin Pfeiffer), Crush Luther is a five piece from London (ON) and this is its debut full-length release. Perfectly poised to be the next Maroon 5, Crush Luther is one of the new breed of “intelligent” pop bands for grown ups. Their songs are mature yet catchy and extremely well produced; it really is a surprise that this is only the debut. Fusing R&B with elements of pop, reggae and some light rock, Crush Luther is enormously radio-friendly and likely to be a staple of many a playlist á la Counting Crows and Train.Vocalist Luther Mallory has a jazzy, Sting-like tone to his voice that accompanies the catchy upbeat songs well and if the band

Dollhouse Royal Rendezvous Bad Reputation So I had a therapy session with my editor about how jaded and bitter I’ve become (I know, shocking!), telling him I’ve lost interest in this game we play called life; that I needed a vacation, a place to re-group, some solitude from the diluted rock ‘n’ roll music I’m inundated with on a daily basis. I was on the verge of walking up the stairs of the bell tower if you catch my drift. But he took me aside like a true Zen master and presented me with a CD to change me, to bring me back to life: Royal Rendezvous by Dollhouse, the band that was ‘discovered’ by Michael Davis of the MC5.

And what a discovery it is. The Hellacopters’ Nicke Anderson produces Royal Rendezvous with a meticulous ear for analogue excitement, and - from “The Rock & Soul Fever” to “I Just Don’t Care” - this 34-minute exercise in ‘70s Motor City perfection provides the kind

Immaculate Machine Les Uns Mais Pas Les Autres EP Mint This is a collection of songs from Immaculate Machines’ Ones & Zeros album, re-done in French. Perhaps a self-indulgent project, but it kind of works. Mint Records’ latest find have a very Belle & Sebastian meets Stereolab sound to them, and their quirky, summery tunes

The Nerve February 2007 Page 17

sound good in French, despite their political messages hidden in ‘lack of English’ this time around. Also, vocalist Kathryn Calder has a Nico-esque tone to her voice and so this has the whole European thing going on with it.

The tracks chosen for Les Uns Mais Pas Les Autres differ from Ones & Zeros in more than just linguistics though; the crashing and yelling is toned down, and a lo-fi, subdued air allows room for melodies and harmonies. It’s probably difficult to release a project like this without coming across all pretentious, especially when you’re arty and poetic, but that aside, these tracks are genuinely catchy and poppy.

- Stephanie ‘going to be nice about local bands from now on’ Heney

works of Sleater-Kinney and Elliott Smith). That alone makes the debut album from streamof-Australian emcee Romy “Macromantics” Hoffman worth your listen, but seeing Sage Francis on the tracklisting makes Moments In Movement a must. Which is more, if you like ethereal, lyrical rhymes spit from a down to earth Oz bird over grimy, synthetic beats, you won’t be disappointed. However, as a fair warning, if you let the visceral vocabulary of Romy take you, you’ll end up pretty discombobulated. So you might not want to drive with this on if you find yourself in a suggestive state. The world would be a better place if all music was at least this challenging.

- Filmore Mescalito Holmes

Gill Landry The Ballad of Lawless Soirez Nettwerk Leonard Cohen, Nick Cave, Bob Dylan… Many people try to emulate these men. Many fail.

And, when inspiration turns to mere imitation of artists whose legacy borders on mythic, failure becomes decidedly more grotesque.

You’d figure Gill Landry a complete twit for thinking he could successfully incorporate the best qualities of all three men into something that isn’t just a cheap knock off. And you’d probably figure me a complete twit for telling you the ballsy son of a bitch succeeds. But, it’s true. While The Ballad of Lawless Soirez is thick with the poison romance and understated vocal delivery of Cohen; the bleary, fantastic vision and eccentricities of Cave; and the weathered humanity of Dylan; not one song comes off as imitation. Landry has his own stories to tell and I’m all ears.

- Devon Cody

Massappeal Nobody Likes a Thinker Relapse Massappeal was a Sydney-based skatepunk/ hardcore band in 1985, and this is a re-issue of its best album. They claim influences such as the Bad Brains and Black Flag, but their metal/ speedcore sound is closer to the Accused or early Slayer. I’m not huge fan of the vocals, but the riffs are over the top and Nobody Likes a Thinker sounds as if it could suddenly blow up at any second. Seriously, this CD teeters on the edge of absolute chaos and it’s amazing that they can play that fast without falling apart. This isn’t a just a CD; it’s a physics lesson.

- Chris Walter

Les Hate Pinks Sick In the Head TKO This is your basic good ol’ 77’ style punk rock, and sometimes the Hate Pinks sing in French and other times in English. Though there are only seven tracks here, they have great titles such as “Should I Kill Myself or Should I Go Jogging?” and “My City Is Sick of Pizza.” These guys are probably waiters in fancy restaurants where they sneer at the tourists and pretend that they can’t speak a word of English. I would expect nothing less.

- Chris Walter Leviride Night of the Drive-By Addictive The first thing that hits you about this album is that the singer sounds like moronic goth banshee Ian Astbury from his very worst Cult moments, and, even though this misfortune isn’t his fault, you’d think any sane person would do their best to hide it. Or not sing. Wailing aside, this is the rockier album Puressence may have gotten around to making one day if they’d decided to make all their songs too long and without many hooks. However, there is clearly some talent here, and the guitars are a clever balance of aggression and melody along with some very original songwriting. John Curley, former bass player with musical geniuses and all round GODs the Afghan Whigs, is rumoured to be producing Leviride’s (pronounced like the jeans) next and third album, and so as long as they can steer closer to epic rock than emo, recognition should be theirs.

- Stephanie Heney

Matt Mays Music From When the Angels Make Contact Sonic Every so often a rewarding discovery comes along in spite of – perhaps because of – my ignorance toward the Canadian “popular” music scene. Although I had heard Matt Mays & El Torpedo’s single “Cocaine Cowgirl”, somewhere… not sure where – it’s one of those songs that sticks with you on a subconscious level – I was unaware of exactly who he was and what he and his band had achieved, which includes touring with the likes of Sam Roberts and the Black Crowes.

The aforementioned single is a decent song, but its easy-to-digest Tom Petty-esque quality comes across initially as sort of dime-adozen. However, there’s something about a musical creation with a good back-story that immediately sets it head and shoulders above the competition. Music From When the Angles Make Contact is such a creation. It was crafted as a soundtrack for a film that never was… or rather, a film that is on indefinite hiatus due to financial constraints. The film’s unique plot and the truly inspired beginnings of this record really call for you to pay attention to the album despite it residing very much in the largely deplorable pop/rock realm. With guest appearances from a wide range of Canadian musicians including Buck 65 and Mike O’Neill (Inbreds) Mays has managed to create a truly engrossing, truly eclectic, somewhat haunting rock opus here that calls for a deeper appreciation of what this guy is capable of.

- Devon Cody

Neil Leyton The Betrayal of the Self Fading Ways Music The more mature, sophisticated listener will hear a whole lot of Bowie, a heavy measure of glam rock and smart snotty punk, maybe a bit of the Stones and sparse moments of Jeff Buckley and the Cure here and there.

The kiddies might hear AFI or some shit like that… or they may not listen to it at all. Being someone who sort of falls in the middle ground between the two, I’m a little on the fence with this. The songs are definitely intelligent, socially conscious and well crafted – especially considering how bands will often sacrifice melody or interesting song structure for lyrical messages. Of note are three songs that were co-written with former Black Halo Rich Jones. However, as the album progresses, a bit of a preachy vibe materializes and there’s more than a bit of what some people might interpret as moral wank. It’s a good thing Leyton runs his label because, as commendable as this album is, it’s gonna be a tough one to sell.

- Devon Cody

Mnemic Passenger Nuclear Blast Yesterday I was shaving my cock and balls (a daily ritual in the Von Bentley household) when I accidentally cut the side of my dick. To make matters worse, I had an ingrown hair right in the middle of my bloody gash. So I brought out the dick tweezers and yanked that cock Nazi out from under my serpent skin. Of course, it took about 10 minutes of yanking and squeezing things that should never be yanked or squeezed. I was covered in blood from my johnson which made jerking off right after incredibly creepy and painful. But the funny thing is that it wasn’t the worst part of my day... listening to Mnemic’s third studio album Passenger was the worst part of my day. With 11 tracks blending together like a modern metal borgasm - except for maybe the song “Pigfuck” which sounds more straightforward/ industrial - Mnemic’s Passenger is a focused, highly polished turd that is basically a combination of Fear Factory and Strapping Yound Lad. The modern metal staples of great production, off time riffage, and the dreaded sensitive ass-grabbing chorus are blended together to make another album designed for instant residency in the record store’s ‘No Soul’ bin. And I was a big fan of Mnemic’s debut.

The band had the off time riffing down but they also had a groove to them, with choruses that merely flirted with ass-grabbing.

- David Von Bentley

Macromantics Moments In Movement Kill Rock Stars Slim Moon doesn’t release much hip-hop through Kill Rock Stars (home to the finer

Miss 45 Miss 45 EP No Talent When you name your band and debut EP after an ultra violent and controversial Abel

Ferrara film, you’re generally expected to deliver something scandalously exciting, or at least a bit hot. Even flouncing onto the scene with a Manic Street Preachers style polemic would be fun. Miss 45 the band, are, however nothing more than fans of really good classic rock ‘n’ roll. Their first release sounds so much like they want to be the New York Dolls with a side order of Hanoi Rocks that you’re constantly thinking, ‘Where have I heard this song before?’ Even though the tunes are original, nothing else is really, (including these Swedes’ attempts at singing ‘American’) and although they do sleazy, glam rock with the right amount of swagger and trash satisfactorily, well, so do the New York Dolls and we don’t really need a replacement just yet.

- Stephanie Heney Nailshitter From The Bowels of the Impaled Extreme Underground I had a dream last night that I was in my early 60s and I was at my daughter’s wedding. She was stunning in her white wedding gown, and I realized in that moment that she wasn’t my little girl anymore. She was a woman. The guests applauded as I took her hand for one last dance, and asked, “Are you ready for this?”

“I am, Dad,” she replied, her eyes twinkling. The DJ started to play our song (sorry - no band, folks. I’m not made of money); it was the song we listened to when she was a little girl, when I taught her how to dance. All she could do back then was stand on my feet as we swayed. She started to cry, and asked, “Is this...?” I leaned into her ear and replied softly, while a solitary tear rolled down my cheek, “Yes hon, it’s ‘As Maggots Pour From Her Ass’ by Nailshitter.” She hugged me as tightly as she could. “Oh Dad, I love you,” she whispered. It was a beautiful moment, but sadly it was all a dream. What isn’t a dream is the haggard sounds of Nailshitter. Typical Florida Death Metal with song titles like “Gastric Impalement” and “Wading through Bile”. Ever heard Cannibal Corpse? You get the picture then. By the way, I got way too drunk in that dream and threatened the groom’s father with the knife they used to cut the cake. Don’t you love weddings?!

- David Von Bentley Of Montreal Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer?

Polyvinyl After reaching new levels of popularity with its last two albums, Of Montreal is trying to keep the momentum going with Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer? But with this new LP, the Of Montreal fame rollercoaster might be coming to a stop. Frontman Kevin Barnes and his crew have now fully entered dancefloor territory and said goodbye to the more psychedelic guitar-pop of their earlier work.

Digital keyboards and programmed drums put a sterile stamp on Hissing Fauna, and organic instruments can seldom be found. However, this automated direction isn’t where this album truly fails. It’s Barnes attempt to make himself into another Prince that’s especially hard to swallow. The squeaks and squeals of his new diva persona are grating, and the supposedly autobiographical lyrics about “booty patrols”, “robocops” and “bitches” are just as irritating.

Of Montreal should’ve stuck to writing psychedelic operas and ignored all these glammy disco shenanigans.

- BRock Thiessen Billy Reese Peters Almost Heaven No Idea I got off to a bad start with this because my media player didn’t recognize the information and called it “unknown album, track 1, track 2,” etc, etc.You’d think that a big label like No Idea could get their shit together enough to tag their CDs properly. Sorry for the rant, but that’s a pet peeve of mine. Anyway, I loved the fucking CD. Almost Heaven is high-energy rock ‘n’ roll with great big hooks and rowdy guitars that are sure to get your motor running. The songs were sticking in my head after just one listen, and that’s a very good sign. Simple, fast, catchy, what more do you want? This is rock ‘n’ roll.

- Chris Walter

a debut album doesn’t distract from their banality. The highlight - Arlo Guthrie’s “Coming to Los Angeles” serves only to make their own songs seem poor by comparison. Pitched as a garage band, the Pillocks sound more like the Levellers, still going on about drugs, hating war, capitalism and all the old ‘90s chestnuts. Oh, and as imbecilic as the Pillocks is for a band name, it’s also been done before. The other Pillocks are a Berlin punk band.

- Stephanie Heney Iggy Pop Where the Faces Shine Easy Action Box Set More great product from the label that gave us the Stooges and Sonic’s Rendezvous Band box sets. Apparently the first of a series of archival Iggy releases, this authorized set collects six solo Pop shows ranging from ‘77 to ‘81. A fair amount of this material has been available on bootlegs for years (I remember buying the L.A. ‘79 show included here on a 2-LP set called Heroin Hates You a long, long time ago) but it’s nice to have it all cleaned up with cool liners, stickers and photos, many from the gigs in question. There’s plenty of highlights: the entire ‘78 show with SRB (minus Scott Morgan but plus ex-Stooge Scott Thurston) backing Ig is a scorcher and there are lots of obscure numbers in the set to sate folks like me who have, I dunno, 200 or so versions of “Nightclubbing” already. The San Diego ‘77 disc smokes as well and the rest is decent at worst.You only need this if you’re an Iggy obsessive but if that’s the case, dig in with relish.

- Andrew Molloy Psapp Hi Domino Last year critics and fans alike praised the brand of cuddly electro-pop that materialized on the Psapp’s first full-length, The Only Thing I Ever Wanted. The album was perhaps the best record of 2006 that featured floorboards, squeeze toys and kitchen utensils as its principle instruments. And now this Londonbased duo is gathering up a few leftovers and releasing a five-track EP simply called Hi. Thankfully, these pretty, little songs are as strong as any of the tracks on The Only Thing… and could have easily got along with the rest of that record. As always, the success of Hi lies in the way the group’s main noisemaker Carim Clasmann delicately weaves loops of sound from unlikely sources, such as on “Apple Block” where he intertwines the sounds from a child’s mobile with a series of intriguing backwards loops. If Clasmann keeps this up it’s not likely Psapp will be falling out of favour any time soon.

- BRock Thiessen Damien Rice 9 Warner Bros.

9 is the sophomore follow up to Damien Rice’s 2003 album O. Of course it’s good.You can tell because it sounds like about five other singers that have already been successful. Apparently Rice is compared to David Gray a lot and you can hear why. Oddly enough the similarity is most prevalent on the track “Grey Room”, the title of which I would like to believe is just a coincidence. The rest of disc is populated with tunes that are very slow-alternative-moodyhumble-folk. This music is perfect to paint pictures of naked babies petting little deerlets eating viciously vibrant apples in the clouds. Or if you’re not that artistic, you could have a bath with those floating candles and moisturize your hands and feet and complain to yourself how the winter is wrecking your body. My choice would be to just sit in a dark room and cry about how you’re not in love.

- Dale De Ruiter

The Shifters Music for Sinners Spinerazor Though the album art and band image might lead you to believe this is just another Zeke clone, Music for Sinners sounds more like a more rockified All or Bad Religion had they gone on to be dope-smoking journeyman mechanics rather than record company execs and PhDs in evolutionary palaeontology. For a band that advertises the bad boy image as much as these guys do, this is more melodic than I’d expected. But, in a niche that has been steadily flooded with watered down crap since about 1998, the Shifters are only tippy-toes, lips, and a nose worth of fresh air. Best track is “Sleaze Tequila” which, all the Nerverts out there will be pleased to discover, is featured in the new Ron Royster adult film Atomic Vixens.

- Devon Cody Sic Alps Pleasures and Treasures Animal Disguise Sic Alps inhabit a dreamy world blanketed by lush frequencies of distortion and dizzying feedback, where beginnings are reduced to frayed ends and the vice eats the versa. Steeped heavily in ‘60s psychedelic experimentation, shambolic garage rock and a unique dose of freak-out, Pleasure and Treasures is definitely a trip – hypnotizing drones, halcyon interludes and full-on bangers. While it would be easy to dismiss this collection of tracks as reckless and arbitrary noise, you’d certainly be missing out on some genius sound manipulation. See, the Alps know what they’re doing – take a track like “Morning Waltz” for example, with its cleverly engineered waves of distortion crashing on the shores, eventually swelling into the cacophonous “Stories” which recalls the Fall and Slay Tracks-era Pavement. After hiding for two years, Pleasures and Treasures is finally ducking its head out of the sand. Stay tuned for more, drop out for now.

- Adam Simpkins The Smears Asthenic Process Independent The Smears dabble with double-edged defiance like lunatic geniuses dabble with explosives.

Their doctrine – a careful concoction of business and pleasure. Their music – neither mainstream, nor exactly against the current.

Their image – equal parts beauty and balls. It seems to be a precarious place to exist, but great art often comes from tension. Such is the case with Asthenic Process. Both musically as well and lyrically, there is a taut emotional quality throughout this record. There’s fierce lament in “Days Alone,” sensual urgency in “So Scared” and “Wake Me,” sober reflection of “Highway IV,” and the spirited resolve of “Go.” It’s a mixture that shows surprising maturity for a debut record and suggests the potential for great things from this band. One minor gripe is that the mix doesn’t quite capture the hard-hitting drumming of Angela Creamer in all its lung-pummelling glory. Nevertheless, if you like your rock music with powerful female vocals and tightly wrought songs that will envelop your psyche like obsessive compulsive disorder then it’s time for you to get smeared.

-Devon Cody The Spunks Yellow Fever Blues Gearhead Gearhead should hire me as an A&R guy already, because obviously we think alike. The Spunks are exactly the sort of blistering, snotassed punk and roll that I’ve come to expect from them. Reminding me at times of the Street Walkin’ Cheetahs or perhaps Smogtown, the Spunks really knocked me on my ass. And they’re Japanese! (Or at least two out of three are.) I could say more but it would just be filler, so why bother? Honestly, this shit kills.

- Chris Walter

REVIEWS

The Nerve February 2007 Page 18

The Pillocks Perfectly Flawed Independent I want to give this a good review because the Pillocks are a local Vancouver band and a) one should support their local music scene, plus b) I don’t want any aggravation from cretinous fans/friends of the band. This isn’t going to be an easy task. I think it’s always worth reminding bands that if they are only capable of writing instantly forgettable songs, putting a full 13 of them (16 in total with three covers) on

Samamidon But This Chicken Proved Falsehearted Plug Research The Samamidon recipe forged by Sam “You Guessed It” Amidon and his childhood chum Tom Bartlett consists of equal parts Nick Drake, Robert Johnson, and Deliverance, with a dash of ‘80s synth-pop for flavor. But This Chicken Proved Falsehearted sees these stalwart Harlem residents plumbing the dusky depths of American roots music to bring you a work of earnest, anachronistic, banjo graced folk simplistic in structure, not emotional effect.

Basing “Head Over Heels” around Sam and his guitar pays off in the most moving Tears For Fears cover since Donnie Darko came out, without sounding out of place at all next to reenergized renditions of old Harry Smith and Alan Lomax field recordings. This is the great American folk album.

- Filmore Mescalito Holmes

Stinkmitt The Red Album Cochon You know that week, once a month, when you become a mega bitch and bleed so hard you get dizzy? That week when you feel like you’re all alone as you curl up in your bed cursing your girl pains, wishing you had someone you could relate to? Let me introduce you to Stinkmitt. These girls (and guy) know all about the crime scene in your pants, and will help you find solace in the fact that you are normal, and you don’t have to eat your boyfriend’s head off every time he asks, “When’s the monster going to give me my girlfriend back?” Along with other empowering anthems like “Jabba the Slut” and “Marilyn Monroe Sleepover,” Stinkmitt’s Red Album will be your new best friend.

- Bitsy Humbucker

Tombstones Twang From the Grave Saustex Media A good number of psychobilly re-releases have found their way onto my desk over the past year. It’s hard not to think they’re just clawing at the coat tails of bands who were inspired by them and now, years later, are actually making money with this music. The Tombstones formed back in 1986, released a couple EPs, toured with the likes of the Stray Cats, Circle Jerks, and Bad Brains, and even had Stiv Bators cover one of their songs (“Nobody”) before they called it quits in the early ‘90s. Twang From the Grave is a collection of out of print and previously unreleased songs. I mentioned “psychobilly” earlier and the press release seems adamant on mentioning the word as much as possible, but you’ll hear more Gun Club or Social Distortion here than any given psychobilly band save for maybe the Cramps and – oddly enough – in some places, Tiger Army. It’d be easy to come to more cartoon conclusions about Tombstones given the band name and album title and all, but there’s a lot more dirty rock and sincere country here than any rockabilly caricature could handle, though it’d do ‘em some good to check this bad boy out.

- Devon Cody TV Heart Attack S/T Independent The debut album from Vancouver’s TV Heart Attack finally hits the shelves and it turns out to be the unreleased Speed To Kill album.

This isn’t a bad thing, mind you. Not one bit.

Darkly urban-futuristic Eurocentric cyber-glam, if you can dig it. Murky themes of anguished love and jagged hate-fucking, and the ongoing struggle to remain proud and alive when there’s nothing left to believe in. Jason Corbett’s always been a good lyricist (and the stories he tells is far darker than the person he really is), but musically, this band is miles ahead of most of what you’ll see and hear in the Vancouver scene. That’s due to Corbett choosing his bandmate henchmen wisely. Not quite the sort of thing which will make the alpha hipsters shit their emo girl jeans at Pat’s Pub, but this is a unique form of post-modern rock which will attract the well-heeled malcontents who live west of Granville Street, or will catch the ears and minds of the thinking rock fans who

still own stuff by the Cure and the first three (ie. the best) U2 albums. Or people who wish that Franz Ferdinand would stop writing happy, goofy songs and tell us what they’re really thinking when the ecstasy wears off. Listening to this album makes me believe that some good actually came out of 2006 after all.

- Ferdy Belland Trans Am Sex Change Thrill Jockey Two sub-par efforts and a lengthy silence led most to assume Trans Am was calling it a day, but apparently not. With the coming of Sex Change, these Chicago veterans prove they still have a little fight left in them after all.

Unfortunately, their new album falls prey to the similar pitfalls that made TA and Liberation such disappointments. Sex Change starts off well enough, with the band adopting a more relaxed and melodic sound on some synthdriven kraut jams—a winning formula heard a few times on the record. But the ghosts of TA and its disastrous electroclash quickly begin to haunt the Sex Change. The cowbell groove of “Obscene Strategies” and obnoxious vocorder of “Climbing up the Ladder” verges on porn music territory. Also, the few half-decent rockers thrown in feel grossly out of place. A more unified direction and further exploration of their melodic side would have done Sex Change a world of good.

- BRock Thiessen The Twisters After the Storm Northern Blues More often than not, the blues is better with a little dirt on it, when it’s a little ragged ‘round the edges. The Twisters play the blues with a clean, gentlemanly nature that would normally put me to sleep, but this album is far from boring. The most irritating tendency of blues with slick production is that the music is often formulated by anal-retentive purists whose sense of adventure goes only as far as them jerking off to their record collection. The Twisters, on the other hand, aren’t afraid of dabbling. After the Storm is tinged with a lot of rockabilly, some country swing, and there’s even a do wop song. Sure, they’re not reinventing anything here, but the fact that they’ve managed to combine a traditional sound, with

WORST CD OF THE MONTH

Childhood Friends Scars Independent – probably I don’t understand. No really I don’t.

This isn’t a record, it’s an unfortunate moment in my life that I will spend years trying to forget. I’m surprised the US government actually allowed this piece of audio terrorism to ever happen! I mean, isn’t that why they invented half of those agencies, to stop horrific stuff like this from ever seeing the light of day? Well they failed once again and now I have to spend the next week sending out “I’m sorry” cards to the entire neighbourhood. The damage incurred just four

songs in to Scars is quite unbelievable, just ask anyone on Main Street! But really, I should have known better: the band name makes me feel creepy and the photos on the album’s packaging look like the result of someone’s family reunion doubling as a swingers club; all fun and games until someone ends up having a kid and then puts photos of the kid on this freako CD. Not to mention that a mere 30 seconds of the woman “singing” should have sent me running towards stop. And breathe.

I think this is supposed to be experimental indie rock but I can’t be sure. I only listened to it once before I frizbeed the abomination right out my window. But if you’re some sort

CONTENTS

DVDCONTENTS REVIEWS

slick production, into something that is both dynamic, cohesive, and catchy as hell deserves applause.

-Devon Cody

Slipknot Voliminal - Inside the Nine Roadrunner Have you seen Requiem for a Dream? You know the parts of the movie where they inject heroin, pop pills, snort coke and all that fun stuff. Then you see about 20 quick cuts in less than a second of dilating pupils, erecting dicks, vomiting vaginas etc. Well imagine that, but instead of something cool like drugs, you have Slipknot instead and the whole movie is one, endless and almost subliminal montage. All 90 minutes. But sadly, Voliminal isn’t directed by a talented guy like Darren Aronofsky, but rather, a dude who wears a clown mask and works as a professional percussionist for a metal band from Iowa. And that’s only disc one of two.

What director M. Shawn Crahan (aka Clown) intended to do with Inside the Nine is show what life is like for the nine members and various crew of Slipknot, during their two-year Vol 3 tour. What you actually get is chopped together footage of puking roadies, overflowing toilets, and the uncomfortable exploitation of drunk goth sluts making out with each other. The whole thing is made worse because of the brain scabbing quick cuts and annoying video effects. The 90 minutes of “Raw never before seen footage” is presented with little humor, unless you consider The Big Book of Farts to be a work of comic genius. Furthermore, the menu isn’t labeled, meaning that you’re pretty much guessing what you end up playing. Again that’s all just the first disc. As for the second disc, you get the same awful menu screen but with fewer options, which makes it slightly easier to navigate. Disc two includes all of the Vol. 3 music videos, interviews with all the band members without their mask on (and they are a truly ugly bunch of rednecks, by the way), and nine live tracks from a few separate concerts around the world. The live footage is great. I can say a lot of bad things about Slipknot but I have to give it up to them when it comes to pleasing a crowd and giving their money’s worth. But 45 minutes of manic live footage isn’t enough to make up for what is basically a collection that feels like a package of DVD extras and no main event. According to Slipknot, “People = Shit”. I say “This DVD Collection = 2 Shits.”

- Dave Von Bentley

Various Artists Fast Food Nation OST Car Park Richard Linklater’s latest drama-exposé follows illegal migrant workers in their nefarious quest to carelessly slaughter livestock, steal fast food jobs from poor Americans, and then maliciously leaving fecal matter in the dinners of unsuspecting customers. Or something like that.

Needless to say, the film couldn’t even gross $1 million at the box office and transient Mexicans are still making out like bandits. Smooth move, Linklater. At least a good soundtrack came out of the mess. Let’s put it this way: the bun of this collection is a handful of range-life tracks from Tex-Mex heroes Friends of Dean Martinez. The meat? Festive numbers from Nortec Collective and La Sinfonia, then rounded out by some fresh cuts by Elvis Perkins and Dr. Dog. And, for you irony hounds out there, there’s nary a specimen of crap in this platter. Forget the book and film, this soundtrack is Grade A. - Adam Simpkins Viki S/T Animal Disguise Viki is an electro-industrial artist. She makes dark, scary music. To fully appreciate this record, it is advised that you listen to it in a dark room (not a darkroom!), perhaps with the addition of a strobe light…and maybe some wayward German tourists (tied and gagged, preferably).

Once you have the vibe set, get ready for some ghoulish beats and treats. This album collects a large chunk of Viki’s early and rare recordings, in addition to some unreleased gems that will leave you begging (literally begging!) for her debut album to be dropped later this year.

While the first half is great, “Dirty Teacher” makes electroclash seem like the biggest hoax since Peaches, the second half of newly earthed tracks really whips things into shape. Fans of Vitalic, Chicks on Speed, or my stolen teenage years in Berlin ghettos, will certainly find some love with Viki.

- Adam Simpkins

of strange masochistic wacko and feel the need to find out more about Childhood Friends they have a website www.forestfriendsliberationarmy.com you can go to, just don’t ask me, I don’t want talk them ever again. It’s just not right.

- Jenny C

The VICE Guide to Travel DVD Vice Films The founders of VICE magazine and a handful of fearless correspondents decided they should travel to the shittiest places in the world and shoot travel diaries. They hit popular tourist destinations such as the forests of Chernobyl (to hunt three-eyed wolves with machine guns while wasted, of course, because being drunk helps prevent radiation poisoning), the largest illegal arms market in the world in Pakistan (to shoot AK-47s off in the designated area - rooftops the middle of the city), the forests of the Congo in search of dinosaurs (they get drunk with pygmies. That makes it worthwhile right there…), and Bulgaria to hang out with an old real estate tycoon friend of Bin Laden’s who sells dirty bombs. The Vice teams hit several more equally fucked-up and fascinating places around the world in this, the first installment of their new DVD series. In true uncensored Vice tradition, this DVD is a heavy pitch at the truth, whether you care or not, about the shit-holes much of the rest of the world has to endure every day.

The DVD comes packaged in a sleeve with a 72-page hardcover booklet filling in details and providing background for each segment. The VICE Guide to Travel is an honest documentation and something that will stay around for a long time, not to be discarded lightly; something that has just as much of a place in the canon of modern history as anything in the vaults at the CBC.

Volume 2 is most likely in the works but in the meantime check out the new VICE channel, vbs.tv, for more of the same.

- AD MADGRAS

The Nerve February 2007 Page 19

LIVE REVIEWS

Corey Feldman’s Truth Movement The Plaza,Vancouver, BC Friday, January 19, 2007 In town filming his new “scripted reality” TV show, The Coreys: Return of the Lost Boys with former partner-in-crime and present shore-filth Corey Haim, Corey Feldman’s band the Truth Movement treated Vancouver to a free show which was pretty much embarrassing as it was ridiculous – but really, what else would you expect? Backed by a band of uninspired studio musicians, obviously wishing they had somewhere else to be, Feldman arrived on stage after an unnecessarily long overture to a mid-level roar from ironists, ambulance chasers, and those just happy to be in the presence of someone with limited celebrity. Cocky and flamboyant, Corey was decked out in an oversized black top hat, dark sunglasses, and tight-fitting velour suit. The band broke into a clumsy number that blatantly ripped off the Chili Pepper’s “Dani California” (that had already ripped off Tom Petty’s “Mary Jane’s Last Dance”) - the type of bromidic bar-rock that is usually reserved for dive bars that promise “live music” (or, the type of venue that would normally hold this event had it not been free.) Swooping his arms desperately like an injured bird, in between frequent Jesus Christ poses and a series of air-punches, it was clear that Feldman fancied himself quite the showman. Foolishly accepting the cheers from the boozed-up audience as sincere, Feldman simply lapped it all up with the same

The Nerve February 2007 Page 20

Emily Haines and the Soft Skeleton Commodore Ballroom,Vancouver, BC Thursday, January 18, 2007 If you scanned the crowd that turned up for Emily Haines and the Soft Skeleton tonight at Vancouver’s illustrious Commodore Ballroom, you’d have a hard time putting your finger on exactly what kind of musician or band was about to grace the stage. Shoe-gazing indie types who follow the likes of Cat Power, Death Cab for Cutie, Stars, Broken Social Scene, and Metric (3/5ths of whom already include Ms. Haines as a member) were a definite presence, keeping themselves as close to the stage as possible. But there was also a noticeable number of, dare I say it, Lillith Fair loving lesbians peppered throughout the ballroom who perhaps were less interested in Haines’ other musical projects than her new solo sound; a far more personal, complex and melodic beast than her previous works.

But Haines drew in a still larger crowd that had no apparent gender, age, sexual orientation or race bias - and standing in that crowd felt really good.

I didn’t have any annoying superficial thoughts running through my head like, “Dammit! I should have cut the sleeves off my Ttshirt and poked a few spikes through the shoulders, or parted my hair to the side and hung it over one eye.” As a matter of fact, the number of ordinary-Joes in attendance, as opposed to the typical scenesters sucking up the social gratification of “seeing and being seen”, was refreshing to say the least.

Haines’ set - drawn largely from her second solo album Knives Don’t Have Your Back - dripped with quiet, despairing acceptance of our troubled world, soothing the diverse crowd out of their individual stressed-out headspaces. In her final breathy ballad, “Winning”, she sang, “Open your chest and take the heart from it, open your chest. What’s bad? We’ll fix it. What’s wrong? We’ll make it alright. It’s gone?

We’ll find it. Takes so long, we’ve got time, all the time.”

Maybe it was an evening of lyrics encouraging me to soften and give away my heart, or maybe it was just the stiff gin on the rocks I smashed back before the show, but it was during that refrain that I found myself momentarily contemplating holding the hand of the dude next to me, and then who knows? But then I realized picking his

girlfriend’s beer bottle out of my forehead, and maybe even shards of my own glasses out of my eyeballs was not how I wanted to end such a lovely evening at the Commodore.

Let’s just say that the troubled headspace of a jealous

art bands you see at Pat’s Pub. Raised By Wolves kicked the afternoon up a notch with an enthusiastically sloppy set of their trademark retro-shockabilly that probably convinced at least a dozen kids in the audience to grow sideburns,

EMILY HAINES

PHOTO: LEIGH RIGHTON

childish grin he’s been sporting ever since he started acting. Growing more deluded by this sudden new acceptance, the former Goonie wasted no time in using this time to move some truth. “This next song is about two types of people that I don’t like: One, is bad people! The other type, is phony motherfuckers!” Giving us a moment to reflect on the profundity of this grand jeremiad of Caulfieldian proportions, his band then launched into the awkward and tuneless “Bad People” which, I’m sure, went into great detail about man’s inability to be good, and how the Corey will have none of it. He then took a moment to give a special shout-out to his third-place trophy wife, Susie Sprague – best known for her work in marrying Corey Feldman.

After an obviously staged scouring of the crowd for his missus, Sprague “reluctantly” shuffled on stage for a loveless dedication. After serenading her for about 10 seconds, with a song sounding somewhere between Blues Traveler and a beer commercial from the ‘80s, Corey returned to giving his fans mandatory high-fives and hand swipes, leaving his poor wife standing on the stage not knowing what to do with herself, frantically looking for the closest exit. Following this romantic interlude, Corey made his third costume change. But instead of wasting our precious time by going backstage, he brought on a couple of silicone filled bikini girls to the stage to assist in his transformation. By this point, the crowd was exhausted of any wtf’s and patiently suffered through the ordeal. Immediately following, Feldman took some time to get real for a couple of minutes. Dishing out the requisite crowdpleasing “Fuck Bush…Fuck The War,” the band broke into some ridiculous jams that probably had something or other to do with more bad people. Not wanting to leave anyone on a downer, Feldman brought his old pal Corey Haim on stage to help him out with a few closing numbers. With lollipop in mouth, ski jacket unzipped, and looking like a 35-year old high-school narc, Haim appeared tweaked and disassociated, but ready to par-tay. Without knowing what to do, Haim started banging on some bongo-drums, hanging off Feldman, and then eventually stumbling off stage.

In the end, the crowd could at least be satisfied knowing that they got their money’s worth. No one was here to listen to the music, they just wanted to see Corey Feldman in the flesh. After getting bored of that, they wanted Haim: he delivered as well. So with two check marks on their “hundred things to do before 100” lists, the masses filled out of the Plaza ambivalently to their next destination.

- Adam Simpkins PHOTO: LEIGH RIGHTON

COREY FELDMAN

girlfriend is probably the one and only thing Ms. Haines had no antidote for. I could be wrong, but I really wasn’t into testing that hunch.

- Sarah Schwartz St. Dirt Elementary School Band The Tranzac, Toronto, Ontario Wednesday, January 3, 2006 Tonight this Aussie haven in Toronto is suffering post-New Year’s mess: their glorious wood signage is unabashedly assaulted by pink Silly String; their leaning tower of Christmas tree is on its last tilt; and the sagging balloons are withering away. But past the taxidermied kangaroos, koalas and stuffed teddy bears that line the bar shelves, plays the St. Dirt Elementary School Band (not a grade five music class). This wool-V-neck-and- jeans mini-orchestra, composed of uncomposed twentysomethings, is a somewhat concept band meets classically-trained musician band. It’s like edge meets nerd in a basement closet after spinning the bottle – and it’s too dark to tell who is who. But the octet – which has an uber-tardy guitarist who flew through the door to sling on his Fender mid-set – have recently been dubbed “North York folk music,” which is a tautological lie.

If they were suburban folksters, it’d be a snore. But when their drummer works up a roll like an ambitious teenage orgasm, their electric keys department glide into sweet electric distortion and the sax player floats on light air for two minutes straight – you come to realize that St. Dirt are kids who played clean in the classroom and ran amok like wild hyenas during recess. Think: Mogwai stuck in Candyland or Do Make Say Think sound-tracking for Tim Burton. Their instrumental compositions veer from sweet to maddening in a topsy-turvy way: constantly they throw themselves overboard to see if they’ll sink or swim. The arid “Next Generation of all the School Teachers” song could parallel a bowling for seniors ad, though the crowd of 25 (with probably 97% of them sporting black-rimmed glasses) went hog wild over “New Brunswick,” where after a few solos, St. Dirt rammed into a vicious drone as if time were going backwards.

They still have that fresh frailty common to bands that are still hatching, as when their eyes did timidly wander from the sheet music toward The Stranger Taking Notes.

Quickly zipping back to the bar staff, they didn’t wander far from their fenced playground. St. Dirt isn’t very dirty. But just wait until they get to high school.

- Nadja Sayej Pointed Sticks Festival Richard’s on Richards,Vancouver, BC Friday, January 6, 2006 Let’s start this off right and bear witness to the fact that rarely does such a glowlingly perfect day of rock’n’roll fun and games occur, even here in Funcouver. I have never before seen over a thousand people of three generations cram Dick’s absolutely full, shoulder-to-shoulder. Nobody seemed to be frowning. The air was buzzing with excitable conversation, when it wasn’t full of shuddering sound waves.

Elementary school kids ran squealing and giggling between the leatherbound legs of gruff mohawked punkers. Dignified grannies shuffled past Gen-Xers with tribal tattoos.

Everybody genuinely seemed to want to be there. I’ll tell you why:

The afternoon all-ages show was a textbook model of what AA gigs should be. Everybody’s favorite ubergeek, Nardwuar the Human Serviette himself, MC’d both shows, keeping the capacity audiences captivated with his annoying whine and his bottomless wellspring of Canadian rock’n’roll trivia (and the eye-watering tartan threads didn’t hurt, either). The first band was From Film To Paper, an eager young quintet manned by Fraser Academy music students chosen by their teacher (none other than the Pointed Sticks’ guitarist Bill Napier-Hemy), who kicked out a reasonably earnest batch of Sunny Day Real Estate / Death Cab For Cutie flannel-emo; nothing that stopped your heart in mid-thump, but certainly better than most Strathcona

slick their hair back into a greasy duck’s ass, and buy a hollowbody Gretsch with a Bigsby... and the guys were probably impressed, too. But by 5:00pm, everyone only had eyes and ears for the Pointed Sticks.

It was well worth the quarter-century wait. A tight, punchy, youthfully energetic run-through of just about every song everyone wanted to hear from the classic Perfect Youth album and the new Waiting For the Real Thing compilation.

Bill Napier-Hemy looked like he stepped right out of a CIBC loans officer’s cubicle and onto the brick-braced stage at Dick’s, and it seemed like his students made up half the afternoon crowd. Ian Tiles hammered and bashed away at his drums like a trouper, and it would be unfair to keep the comparisons to the late great Ken “Dimwit” Montgomery going - Ian did a fine job in his own right and he is a Pointed Stick through and through. Nick Jones’s piercing dark eyes swept lovingly back and forth across the crowds and he sang his heart out, song after song; he’s probably the only guy on the West Coast who can get away with combining a lavender scarf with a denim jacket and male-pattern baldness. Then again, he is the Rolling Stones’ head tourmerchandise officer these days, so he probably picked up a few dated fashion tips from the Glimmer Twins along the way. Tony Bardach rumbled away steady and true on his bass, and with his spectacles, sherpa’s hat, and wincing glare, he looked like Mike Watt via Hans Christian Andersen.

Gord Nichol’s face twisted endlessly behind his coke-bottle glasses in grotesque glee as he fluttered his fingers across his keyboard, tilting his X-stand menacingly forward during his Jerry Lee Lewis solos.

But what did they SOUND like? A finely-crafted, more classic-pop-oriented take on early Elvis Costello and the Attractions, to be honest, fair, and complimentary. Big on guitar and organ interplay, brilliant harmony vocals, and lots of songs about true and timeless teenage love, lust, and LIES!

The evening show continued at the same energy level that the afternoon show ended on. The crowd was noticeably older (but not decrepit - Vancouver punks may age, but they don’t really grow old), and it was a veritable Who’s Who of the Vancouver punk/new-wave/indie-rock underground intelligensia... and Randy Rampage showed up, too. Jade and Scout from the Dishrags chatted amiably with Noize To Go’s Dale Wiese. Bev Davies and Corolla Goertz kept snapping photo after photo. It was as if the cast of characters listed in Buck Cherry’s and Joey Shithead’s books were all here to sign autographs, but everyone was showing their love and solidarity for one of Canada’s most loved bands ever, a band everyone was rooting for and who is still being rooted for now. The Tranzmitors won the golden prize for being the most perspiratorially energetic band of the night, but when you’re playing mid-60s-style fuzztoned garage punk, who wouldn’t be? I like this band very much, and their band members are also longstanding diehards in the local scene. I almost wished I had a bowl cut like Bryce Dunn’s... almost. Certain people own certain styles. I do think I could get away with wearing one of Nick’s power ties.

The Pointed Sticks’ evening return to stage showed no signs of fatigue, boredom, or insincerity. It was quite obvious that all five Sticks were deliriously happy to be back together onstage in Vancouver at a venue which had been named the Laundromat back in their day. The beer makes things a little blurry, but only in a rose-colored fashion. The people cried and cheered, and they played more songs.

The people cried and cheered some more, and the Pointed Sticks played some more. The Pointed Sticks bid everyone farewell and marched offstage and the howling roar of the 600+ Sticksters brought them right the hell back out again.

You could pull kilograms of warm, lumpy, ectoplasmic love out of the overheated air at Dick’s by the handful.

I sure hope it doesn’t take another 25 years to see a flawlessly incredible all-day show like this unfold once again here in Vancouver. I don’t think my poor heart could stand the wait.

- Ferdy Belland

LIVE

C

CONTENTS

The SubGenius Psychlopaedia of Slack:The Bobliographon

By J.R. Bob Dobbs, Edited by Reverend Ivan Stang Thunder’s Mouth Press This book is for all of us who are sick of the flimflammery and foofaraw being spooned into our every orifice by “Uncle Sham” and the “pulpit masters.” This third instalment in the SubGenius series gives a brief history of the twisted Church of the SubGenius and its perma-smiling, pipe-pulling leader, “Bob.” It also introduces “Bob’s” wife, Connie.

!

Manstealing For Fat Girls

By Michelle Embree Soft Skull Press This book is great. Angie, the main character, is a fat virgin on a diet, whose best friend Shelby is a lesbian. Angie skips school, spending her days in laundry rooms reading books about serial killers and she steals disposable pink razors and Slim Fast from K-mart. The characters in the book are eccentric and the dialog is hilarious and down to earth. For example, Angie’s friend Heather has a peculiar physical abnormality that makes for great humour:

“She made the appointment!” Heather was crying when she opened the door.

“What? What appointment?” I asked.

While reading, I was delighted to find a mail-in application to “Survive Doomsday AND Win Prizes.” Also delightful was that it offered a complete guide to Eternal Salvation... “Salvation guaranteed or triple your money back!” All I’d have to do is send in $30, reject the pabulum memes of prime time, and suckle at the supple teat of “Bob.” (In the worst-case scenario, at least I know I’ve got 90 bucks headed my way to spend any way I please while in everlasting torment.) Several times, I found my hand unconsciously reaching for my chequebook in order to join the brethren and sistren of the SubGenius as I zipped through page after page of twisted illustrations that I’m pretty sure would liquidate your paté if chewed on for too long. “Bob” longs for a day when all the cappuccino vessels of the world will quit their doxies of the oxygen bar, roll up their Bikram Yoga mats for good, and finally embrace the Slack.

Scattered throughout with haikus, short essays, and blurbs by many different SubGenii Reverends and Saints, the Psychlopaedia… is full of howl-inducing wordplay and satire on our soft, pink society. So dead on, in fact, that the words, “Crazy like a fox,” come to mind. This book may make you want to rethink those mundane Mondays wasted in the office. After reading it, you might even find yourself shouting, “Down with Dogma!” as you maniacally bash in your TV with that handsome cherry finish CD tower you found at Ikea. So get ready to deny the conspiracy and jilt the jihad! “Bob’s” war is the un-holiest of them all.

- Sarah Kelleher

“For the tit! I’m getting a tit for Christmas!” Heather wailed and flopped onto her mother’s couch.

“Should I leave?” Pike asked.

“No,” Heather said. “It’s no secret that I only have one tit!”

Some of the other characters that grace Angie’s existence are Mantis, who takes her virginity then brings out the blood stained sheet to show his guy friends and leads them in an embarrassing toast congratulating her; Rudy, her mother’s fiancé, a rude egomaniac with whom she has nothing in common aside from a love for The Who and hot dogs wrapped in pre-packaged crescent roll dough; Carrie, the beautiful and popular girl who shaves everything, everywhere, every morning and is only friendly to Angie when no one else is around; and finally, there’s Luann, who crowns Angie ‘Manstealer’ despite the fact that the man wasn’t Luann’s to begin with. Luann’s the kind of girl who “probably shits confetti.

One big beautiful party coming out of her ass.”

Something else I adore about this book is the way the author, Michelle Embree, is very bold with her use of language. She doesn’t hold back the way most authors do when writing the dialog of young adults. For example: “If Shelby had been with me she would have made up something about the origin or Lawn Deer, or the proper name for having applesauce licked out of your pussy.” Applesauce!

Pussy! Yes!

Angie is an average teenager. She is young and hates her appearance. She smokes, reads, and fantasizes about fucking men and women. Her life is one that I remember well. Embree explains adolescence in a way that makes sense and might make you piss your pants from laughing so hard.

Read this book to reminisce or buy it for someone you know that is currently enduring the torture of growing up.

-J. Dives

The Nerve February 2007 Page 21

FILM

Shorter and not as funny as Cheap Shotz

W

hat the Fuck is the Internet?

It’s Oscar time and, once again, your favorite movies got ignored.

But how you can stick it to these assholes is by watching all the movies that got nominated for free. Oscar time means high quality screeners of all the movies nominated are circulating on the internet.You might be using a program like Limewire or Soulseek to steal movies. Stop that shit immediately. It’ll give your computer AIDS. Downloading movies using torrents is the way to go and it’s so simple any mouth breather can do it.

Here is a quick tutorial for you.

Go to www.versiontracker.com and download town programs. Azureus to download the movies and VLC player to watch the movies.

Install both of these programs.

Now you need to hunt for movies. Here are the top five torrent sites on the Internet. On these sites you will easily be able to find torrent files of every movie that received an Oscar nomination. As an added bonus, you can also download music, TV shows, porno and comic books. www.demonoid.com www.isohunt.com www.mininova.org www.torrentscan.com www.torrentspy.com All these sites are easily searchable.You should be concerned about two things when looking for a

The Nerve February 2007 Page 22

movie: quality and seeders.

Quality. There will be videos of varying quality. There will be a lot of cam rips, which is some guy holding a video camera in a theatre, What you want to look for is “DVD Screener” quality.

Seeders. Seeders means the number of people who finished downloading the movie and are sharing it. The higher the number of seeders the faster you’ll get your movie.

Once you find a movie that is of good quality and has a lot of seeders, it’s time to download a torrent file. It’ll be really small, under 100kb. This file searches all the tubes on the internet for other people who have it.

Open Azureus then open the torrent file in it. It may take a minute or two but it will start downloading the movie for you.You might get an error message saying “this Port is reserved” and get a shitty download speed. To remedy this, go to ‘preferences’ in Azureus and click on ‘connection.’

There you will see your port number. Just punch in a random five-digit number, hit ‘ok’ and you should get better speeds.

After you’ve finished downloading the movie file, quit Azureus and open VLC. Watching downloaded movies can be a pain in the ass if you don’t keep up with all the codecs and bullshit like that.VLC is a godsend and will play anything. Enjoy.

Tune in next month where I’ll teach you how to turn a $2 shot of espresso into a $6 chocolate ice latte using the free condiments at Starbucks. n

The Nerve February 2007 Page 23

FILM

BLACK SHEEP That sheep on the left gets fucked in this movie.

By Michael Mann

E

very once in a while a film is made with a premise that’s so stupid it’s brilliant— Groundhog Day or Terminator for instance. Well step aside Bill Murray and James Cameron because a New Zealeander, Jonathan King, has just out stupided you with Black Sheep.You’ve never heard of him and neither have I. His background is in directing music videos for bands you’ve never heard of in a country I can’t find on a map. Here’s what I do know about New Zealand though: 1) They have a really good rugby team.

2) All the films I’ve seen from New Zealand focus on aboriginal (or ‘Maori’) issues and end with me wanting to slit my wrists because I’m so depressed.

3) The Lord of the Rings trilogy was shot there and it too made me want to slit my wrists. Not because it was sad but because I’m on anti-depressants and pretty much everything makes me want to kill myself these days (Don’t laugh that off. This article is a cry for help).

4) They have a lot of kiwi fruit and it’s cool if you refer to someone from New Zealand as a Kiwi.

5) Sheep are as abundant as kiwi fruit.

It’s that last pearl of knowledge which is the jumping point for King’s cinematic debut. Black Sheep is a horror comedy about genetic experiments at a farm that create a violent breed of flesh eating zombie sheep. King, who’s sitting across from me and somehow pulls off wearing a Hawaiian shirt, explains, “It’s the kind of film where you gotta buy into the ride. If you’re not buying into the ride, you might as well leave.” No shit. These sheep will kill you as soon as look at you and New Zealand has 40

million of them. To make it worse, if you’re a human and survive an attack but get bitten, you’ll turn into gigantic were-sheep that looks like a wooly orc.

The Lord of the Rings similarity is there because the WETA Workshop is responsible for all the monsters in the film. Also pitching in his animatronics knowledge was Dave Elsey—who’s best known for his work on Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith and the television show Farscape. The decision to go the animatronic route was a simple one. They’re broke and cheap CG looks like shit.

But it’s more than that. King explains, “You know in

enough to make you want to move there when you see what kind of films our government is funding.

But King knew he had a winner from the get go.

“The germ of it just kind of arrived. I do remember going and staying on my step-father’s old family farm.

We were driving up this farm road in the middle of the night. It’s totally black out in the middle of the country. The headlights hit these sheep and their eyes kind of glowed. And I thought ‘Wow, that’s kind of scary.’ A New Zealand horror film about sheep just kind of popped into my head as an idea that would work as a movie.” And it does work. Black

Black Sheep is as brilliant as a horror comedy with multiple fart jokes and an allusion to an act of bestiality can get. your head that’s not real. But you see it and you buy into it. I think if it was a CG creature, it’d be much less cool. It’s that old fashioned thing. But it was state of the art old fashion.” To give you an idea of how state of the art, the were-sheep costume takes three people just to operate the face.

More ridiculous than a film about killer sheep is that King was able to trick his government into putting up cash for a film about killer sheep. It’s

Sheep has the potential to tap into a cultural ethos that could resonate with people outside of New Zealand, in the way that films like Four Weddings and a Funeral and My Big Fat Greek Wedding did. Except they’re trying to do it with killer sheep instead of cheap romantic comedy laughs.

Animatronic animal stillborns, were-sheep, gore, campy performances and a little hippy bashing to boot.You might be thinking this film has it all. But

where Black Sheep falls short is bestiality jokes. Go drinking with some dudes from New Zealand and it won’t take long for sheep shagging jokes to rear their ugly and hilarious head. Sadly, Black Sheep only has one. It is a good one, but it’s pretty toned down. King has his reasons, “We knew it had to be there because it’s part of the mythology. One draft had the full on [makes a thrusting motion]. If you immediately cut to “BANG” full on humping it would have been bad. As it is now, people are thinking “They’re not gonna go there. OH THEY DID!” But people kind of laugh at it. We knew it had to be there but we didn’t want to go so far that it’d turn people’s stomachs.”

Black Sheep is as brilliant as a horror comedy with multiple fart jokes and an allusion to an act of bestiality can get. But before you write off the whole country as a bunch of sheep fuckers, King is quick to point out that “Most New Zealanders actually never see sheep. We all live in cities and there’s a tiny percentage of the population who are out there with sheep but all New Zealanders get it all the time. We’re kind of reclaiming it for ourselves.

Whatever you can say about us, we’re gonna say it first…. Hopefully this film will deal with all that and we’ll never have to hear it again.” Whether his film has the power to heal the collective esteem of an entire country that’s reeling from being thought of as ‘sheep fuckers’ remains to be seen. What’s certain is Black Sheep will surely enter the canon of great New Zealand films... or at the very least, the canon of New Zealand movies people from North America have heard of. n

The Nerve February 2007 Page 24 n

CONTENTS

COLUMN

AINSWORTH, AINSWORTH, AINSWORTH

The Man That Matters

By Jason Ainsworth

S

OBER UP! One of the nicest things about being friends with sexual deviants is that they introduce you to their sexual deviant friends. All regular Nerve readers endured with delight the exciting adventures of the interfering Bob Grenny in the last few editions of this column…..

I have always been quite interested in the practical applications of incest, I believe from early encounters with the literature of VC Andrews, AND THOSE BOOKS ARE NOT JUST FOR LITTLE GIRLS, alright!?? Fuck, I used to get picked on for it.

Thoughtless…

It turns out Bob met an interesting couple via a chatroom, by the name of Monica and Trent. Both in their middle twenties and both of an “artistic” persuasion, they impressed Bob and myself with the sincerity of their love as well as the fact that they are brother and sister and fucking the hell out of each other on a nightly basis. I invited them for an interview, by which we could explore the viability of the dialogue and talk about all the sisterfucking.

Nerve: I’m so glad you could make it.

By Dale DeRuiter Okami Developer-Clover Studios Publisher-Capcom, USA, Inc Okami is Japanese for wolf. In this game you are Amaterasu, a wolf and an incarnation of the Sun God.You must defeat a demon called Orochi, an 8 headed monster who’s plunged the land into eternal darkness.

The same people who did Viewtiful Joe make this game so you know it’s going to be a little extraordinary. Going through the game you must restore nature, defeat enemies and solve puzzles using an innovative ‘paint’ system. There are thirteen brush techniques you must learn throughout the game including restoring broken equipment, Blooming trees and even a powerful slash attack. Don’t be turned off though, the game is easy to pick up and even though it may look chaotic, it’s actually quite simple to play.

Okami is visually amazing and the game controls are very well done. The game is made to look like watercolors on parchment, so the characters in the game look a bit shoddy but the scenery more than makes up for it.

Sega Genesis Collection Sega of America Inc. There seems to be an unending supply of emulator releases of classic video games. The re-releases always seem to have under ten games with only one or two good games and then a bunch of crap you got bored of even as a child. Apparently someone at Sega thought this too and decided to

go tits out and release 28 wicked genesis games with 5 further unlockable games on one CD for your PS2.

I would buy a backward compatible PS3 over a 360 just to play this one title. Check out some of the games included: Altered Beast, Columns, Comix Zone, 3 Ecco the Dolphin titles, Golden Axe 1 to 3, Kid Chameleon, some Phantasy Star games, Shinobi and Vectorman. This is literally your one stop destination for all the best genesis games.

There’s also a bunch of interviews and crap that you can unlock. I never got why they would put the developers giving interviews as unlockable content.

It’s not like we’re geeks or anything.

They put Kid Chameleon on this release.

And while the others are almost as -mess your pants- worthy, nothing my friend is quite like Kid Chameleon. It is easily the best Genesis game ever released and still rivals today’s games for sheer playability.

K.C. is a platform game where kids are getting sucked into a futuristic arcade machine.You’re the badass kid (leather jacket and sunglasses obviously mean you’re cool) that must come to the rescue to release all the kids. Throughout the game you find masks that each hold their own special powers including an axe throwing Jason character, A skull shooting tank and even a sweet mother of a hoverboard.

I must admit though I am a little torn about this re-lease. Just when I was mid-manhood all my past demons come back to haunt me. The nostalgia of wasting my life away with these games while my mother used to bitch at me about going and playing outside is priceless because, after all, I did waste a lot of time with these titles already. n

OKAMI

I know she likes girls, right? Most girls like other girls, even in secret… I indulge her sometimes…

Nerve:You guys are creeping me out more than the paedophiles, but this is hotter.You, your sister and another chick… any relation?

Trent: Thank you!

(Trent is wearing black, Monica is wearing a purple velvet and is much more attractive than you’d think.

I actually don’t blame Trent) Nerve: As a child, I was hugely influenced by the VC Andrews series which explored…

Monica: No. Incest is only between us; it’s our private thing.

Nerve: Oh, so you’ve never been intimate with an uncle or grandparent then?

Nerve: The intricacies of the incest phenomenon…

Trent: NO! Intergenerational incest is total abuse!

Total abuse, it’s not cool, we don’t want to be associated with that fucking bullshit and get the fucking cops involved!!

Trent: Revolution.

Monica: …Trent?

Nerve: As you wish. After I read them I have always regretted not having a sister, or a brother with breasts…

Trent: Yeah baby?

Monica: Really well! I loved them!

Monica: You know… you know what went on between me and Uncle Glen, right?

Monica: I’ve read them all like, eight times! I love them!

Trent I have never regretted having a sister. (They kiss) Monica: Girls who read those books just became so interesting and artistic, and they know themselves, they are sexy, and open….

Trent: Any girl who read Flowers in the Attic at thirteen is automatically willing to suck you off in a cemetery.

Trent: ... no… what?

Monica: He called me bite sized, and that’s important for a girl with weight issues.

Monica: Nothing! Nothing, um.

Trent: You fucking cunt.

(Trent leaves the table, crying like a little girl in my opinion. I won’t transcribe his pathetic wail and sniffing.

I’ve left a lot of boring crap out off this interview, actually…)

Nerve: Here’s a tissue… wow.

Monica: It makes smutty pregnant teenagers. I’m not though, and I read it. Trent is the only man who made me pregnant, but it was stillborn!

Nerve:You fucked Uncle Glen?

Nerve: How did you first hook up?

Monica: A little…

Monica: Well I was sixteen and Trent was nineteen, and one day we were sitting around watching TV and I was really overweight when I was younger, and so I sat down eating potato chips, a lot of potato chips, and I undid the top button of my pants… and Trent was looking at me… I could see he liked me, and then I caught mono and lost a lot of weight and then one day when I was better, and we were watching TV and we started kissing and he.. we made love in front of the TV.

Nerve: Trent has a problem maintaining an erection, right??

Monica: …yeah.

Monica: …giggle… yeah.

Nerve: Do you ever feel guilty for what you’ve done to your family? Your mother died, Monica.Your Mother. Do you ever feel so awfully guilty you want just die? That you want to die, Monica?

Monica:Yes…

Trent: It’s my fondest memory, except for our first anal sex.

Nerve: I think you’ve learned an important lesson, Monica. All women are whores, Monica.

Monica: He called me bite sized, and that’s important for a girl with weight issues.

Monica: …yes…

Trent: I would have done anything for her, even now.

Nerve: This interview is over. n

The Nerve February 2007 Page 25 n

THECONTENTS CROSSWORD 36. Murder/suicides, honor killings, etc.

40. United Arab Republic 41. Lug along 42. Desires 43. Federal politicians 44. Well ventilated 45. Has sex with 46. Everything 47. Address from a diner waitress 48. Poly-amorous polygons 55. More than a friend 56. Dry 57. Hurt constantly 59. Motionless 60.Young female 61. Reject 62. Ernie’s roommate and others 63. South southeast 64. Worked as a prostitute

By Dan Scum Across 1. Swindle 5. The cat’s mother 8. Dispose of income 13. Stephen King canine classic 14. Spiced liver paste 16. Like a cougar 17. Persia 18. Australopithecus specimen

The Nerve February 2007 Page 26

19. Fits of anger 20. Like a jilted lover 23. Profit after expenses 24. Decompose 25. Iberia 28. Gush forth 30. Eye pod?

33. Gobble down 34. Daniel of the coonskin cap 35. Lower digit?

Down 1. Elem. Sch. Subj.

2. Suppress desire 3. Slightly open 4. The kissing disease 5. Ruptured organ 6. To continually come to mind 7. Do scrimshaw 8. Sadness 9. Sylvia the neurotic poet 10. Border 11. Require 12. AMA members 15. Ogling organ 21. Stabbing weapon 22. Forum 25. Go toe to toe

26. Duos 27. Supply with guns 28. Pushover 29. Benedict, now 30. Make odor 31. Puffs on Popeye’s pipe 32. Desires 33. All men are ______(or at least I am) 34. Lout 37. Wilt Chamberlain’s nickname 38. Swapped spouses 39. French bag 44. Warns 45. Cop a feel 46. Ward off 47. Whiskers or pubes 48. Solo 49. Done with 50. Slangy menstruation 51. Eye part 52. Eye part 53. Repeating words 54. Carrey’s leading lady in Liar Liar 55. Women’s ____ 58. Conclusion The November Issue’s Answers

cards 4/4

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all $CA or $US w’ free ship’g to WA/OR

digital & offset: cardz • posterz • stickerz • ticketz • brochurz • catalogz

The Nerve February 2007 Page 27

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