The box is full; time once again to throw the tapes in the machine and let the opinions spew out. But first, this: Apologies to Spinning Jenny; the title of the band’s new CD is not Piata Full of Beans (as I wrote last week), but Piata Full of Bees…
“Should I get into the fact that producers and rockers really love Arizona because of the tit bars?” asks Jon Harris, owner of Phase Four Studios, a 24-track Phoenix recording facility. “And golf, too. I haven’t met a musician who doesn’t play golf. All these cats into heavy metal saying,…
Of the 43 bands from the Valley that applied for the South by Southwest music conference this year, guess how many were accepted? I’ll give you a hint: No, I won’t. I’ll just tell you. Other than the Refreshments (who are attending under a business arrangement between New Times and…
Texas singer-songwriter Daniel Johnston’s either a nut or a genius. Singer Kathy McCarty says he’s both, and she should know; McCarty’s seen Johnston battle terrifying cycles of manic depression, replete with periodic stays in mental hospitals. She’s also seen Johnston write and perform some of the most honest and aching…
You may not believe this, but I went to church on Sunday. The Electric Church, that is, to worship at the altar of Jimi Hendrix. Actually, I was at Tower Records to check out the latest batch of releases from Loompanics Press–slim, fascinating volumes on stuff like lock-picking, surviving in…
It’s a Saturday night in 1980 at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium in Los Angeles. Chelsea, the Dead Kennedys and X have all come and gone, disgorging an awesome load of punk rawk to the dripping crowd that packs the hall. These are three groups at the height of their…
You do not want to be Dick Dale’s guitar. The Undisputed King of Surf Guitar does not merely play his instrument, he punishes it. Forget about the word “nuance.” He breaks heavy-gauge strings like they were bands of saliva, wrenching a nonstop, high-speed onslaught of reverbed, staccato licks that shred…
Just when you thought there was no possible musical configuration left after grunge-goth-speed-death-metal-neo-punk-post-New Wave-bubblegum-pop-etc., along comes homo-core. Specifically, along comes Pansy Division. Jon Ginoli, Chris Freeman and Danny Panic are the self-proclaimed Pansies, three San Franciscans whose music is from the late-Seventies, early-Eighties melodic punk school and whose lyrics celebrate,…
Remember that TV mail-order albums like Country Gold and The Best of Floyd Cramer were available on almost-obsolete eight-track cartridges well into the Eighties? Now the Nineties has its version of this phenomenon: Recent TV titles like Soft Rock of the ’80s and The Best of John Denver are being…
Alice Tatum Piano (TTC) The only things missing from longtime Valley artist Alice Tatum’s new CD are cocktails and cigarettes; Piano is an exercise in soft, spare, lounge-ready vocal gymnastics. The singer caresses 13 standards, accompanied only by the subtle keyboard work of locals Chuck Marohnic, Charles Lewis, Phil Strange,…
It takes a whole lot of water to wash four years’ worth of pigeon dung off the faade of the Arizona State Capitol, but the government grounds crew is ready to meet the challenge. They’re up in the air on a mechanical platform, shooting a mighty torrent of water onto…
He goes by the name of Mr. Manson. He’s the lead singer of Marilyn Manson, a Florida-based shock-rock act. Mr. Manson has tattoos, piercings, a startling pair of eyes and discolored, misshapen teeth. His songs are rhythmic rants against anything even approaching societal norms. He’ll sometimes perform those songs wearing…
Up on a shelf in the living room of Dave Cook’s small Tempe apartment, next to a large, plastic crow wearing a felt beret, there are two Pringles cartons, each held together with packing tape. Why does this man have two Pringles cartons held together with packing tape on his…
Consider the words of Gary Finneran. Start with one of the better songs on the debut CD by Finneran’s band, Ex-Idols. “I’m insane,” Finneran screams. “And I might not hear you say/`Please don’t kill me/Please don’t kill me anymore.'” The song is titled “I Love You.” Here’s Finneran again, this…
Believe in him (1961): An intense, convincing young Cash makes his film debut as a singin’, slayin’ salesman in the less-than-killer film Five Minutes to Live. It is rereleased in 1966 (with an added rape scene) for the ever-discerning drive-in crowd, retitled Door to Door Maniac. Accidentally on purpose (1965):…
He looks almost stately now. In current photographs, his image gives off the intensity of a hellfire backwoods preacher. The slightly graying hair is combed back and still riding pompadoured and high atop the face of crags and fissures and the eyes that look like they’ve done a lot of…
Yet another 12 months of popular song have come and gone–for many, a year of soul-touching hits, for others, an unfulfilling mess of redundant backwash. But one thing’s for sure: 1994 was a year of events in the music world. Michael and Lisa Marie got together, Kurt and Courtney broke…
For music that only gets hauled out once a year, Christmas albums sure have a way of branding themselves into our collective psyche. For many of us, it’s just not Christmas without a certain familiar, seasonal album crackling in the background like a yule log on the fire. So what…
Recordings Tom Petty Wildflowers (Warner Bros.) You’ve grown up with Tom Petty. You first saw him all scraggly and snotty in the Seventies, and you couldn’t miss his smug pug and godzillion-selling records through the Eighties. Now, with the release of Wildflowers, the 43-year-old singer/songwriter plays the part of the…
State in an All-Age Rage When is a concert not a concert? What’s the difference between a “bar” and a “concert facility”? If you’re younger than 21, will the only way you’ll soon be able to see rock is to drive to a quarry? These and other questions are up…
Live Shows Diamanda Gals, and John Paul Jones Gammage Auditorium December 2, 1994 Three hundred years ago, Diamanda Gals would probably have been burned at the stake. Even in these progressive times, she’s managed to upset more than a few folks–mainly religious officials–with her own particular brand of “entertainment.” And…
Okay. No drunken adventures this week. No reckless driving or meandering road trips. No wanton sexual adventures or exploding tubes of Blistex. Oh, yeah, I guess I haven’t really delved into, uh, never mind. Fact is, it’s been a hell of a work week, nose to the grindstone, all that…
