2005-12 Vital Source Mag – December 2005
Erin Wolf’s Road Trip Rules
By Erin Wolf When reality television asks, “Wanna be a rock star?” and slaps the title of ‘American Idol’ on your Hi My Name Is: tag, they fail to disclose miniscule bits of information otherwise known as reality. A musician is not pulled into each show by golden horses and whisked away into a crowd of adoring, salivating fans. Pop the bubble now. Fledgling bands, you will find love in music, but it will be tough. And it starts by nestling in the incapable arms of the Road Trip. Elusive until you finally get enough gear and a decent mode of transportation, the Road Trip will hold many surprises. Here is a short, personal account of my own road trip lessons. Rules of the Road: A Rough Guide to Making It Through the Tour 1. The vehicle. Is it road-ready? Make sure the band-mobile is fueled up, and the tires have enough air. Coolant is also nice on those extra-hot Midwestern days. If you forget the coolant originally, be prepared to wait for it to work by blasting the heater on a 110-degree highway. 2. The route. MapQuest maps are not all they’re cracked up to be– learn this now. 3. Bring a pillow. Otherwise you’ll end up sleeping with your face on top of something during your van-ride nap that will leave interesting lines for hours. “What happened to your face?” is not a great way to open a conversation. 4. Eat right. Avoid anything at the gas station that involves jalapenos, fake or rotating meat or any edible that is free. These items contain smells that will linger in the non-circulatory air of the van for-EV-er. 5. Park strategically. Try to secure a parking spot within a few feet of the actual venue. If there’s nowhere to park, and you’re forced to park blocks away, you’ll be glad your amps and cabinets have wheels. If you’re assigned a Fender Rhodes piano, though, you are gonna be shit-out-of-luck. Did you eat your Wheaties? 6. Turn up the lights. Always make sure to get good lighting onstage (especially if over half your band is vision-impaired). Kicking the lights all the way up also helps if you have stage fright – you won’t be able to see the audience. Forget the ‘picturing people in their underwear’ deal. Not seeing them at all is way better. 7. Free beer is a trap. Although the tap beer is free, avoid it like the plague, unless spending the wee hours of the morning curled up, pm the bathroom floor in the fetal position is an acceptable trade-off. 8. Know where you’re sleeping. Line up a house to stay at after the show. Otherwise, you’ll end up sleeping in the van or in a motel reminiscent of a 1950s bomb shelter, complete with metal walls covered in vinyl and smells suggestive of the inside of a wet sock that a cheap cigar was snuffed into. 9. Pack lots of clean t-shirts. But if you forget […]
Dec 1st, 2005 by Vital Archives
Sex, Drugs, and Nudity on New Year’s Eve
The English language has yet to devise a single word to adequately describe my feelings for the holidays. The entire month of December – and that beloved, drunken evening known as New Year’s Eve in particular – has always been fraught with heartache, loss and occasional unsolicited nudity. Instead of employing pedestrian terms like “dread,” “fear,” or “sheer, unconditional panic,” the best way to illustrate my aversion for this time of year is through complicated yet familiar thoughts we’ve all experienced, like “the disgust you feel the day after an imbecilic president is re-elected,” or “that sinking feeling you get when you’re watching a sub-par episode of Charles in Charge and you realize your left leg is on fire.” To drill this home even further, I’ll share a few of my personal moments from New Year’s Eves past, presented in the always-entertaining bullet point format: 1998: I find myself lying on the floor and handcuffed to the foot of an unknown girl’s bed while another couple “sleeps” on the bed itself. I’m half-drunk, half-asleep and in a matter of minutes, half-clothed. Imagine the priceless look on my face, however, when I discover that not only am I without a condom, but that one of the people on the bed is an ex-girlfriend. Along with becoming yet another footnote in a long line of humiliating, holiday-themed sexual encounters, this will mark the first and last time I make out with a girl with a pierced tongue. Oh, one more thing: the seductive music this girl deemed fit for our anonymous New Year’s tryst? The soundtrack to Blade Runner. 2000: Out of my skull on a laundry list of illegal substances, I find myself staying at the San Francisco home of two bona fide 60s hippie burnouts. Actually, “home” really isn’t the proper term to describe the place. “Vaguely creepy, clothing-optional, secluded cabin in the mountains” is more apt. While there, I’m treated to such time-honored holiday pleasures as naked swimming, naked hiking, and something called “Goquet” (a family-invented golf/croquet hybrid that also happens to be clothing-optional). The topper? In a drug-induced haze, I slowly come to the frightening realization that a fully nude 65-year-old man is serving me turkey. 2003: On my birthday (December 28) I’m informed that not only have I been fired from my job of five years, but because of a past run-in with the law, I’m required to go back to my hometown and perform 200 hours of community service. New Year’s Eve finds me drunk and alone, contemplating the many ways one could kill oneself with a half-bottle of whiskey and a tire iron. When I finally sober up sometime in early February, I move back in with my parents and spend the next two months vacuuming floors at a nursing home, as well as assisting a few of the more catatonic residents during rousing games of bingo. I pine for Milwaukee while sleeping on the floor of my empty boyhood bedroom. …Which brings us, more […]
Dec 1st, 2005 by Matt Wild
Simple Joys
By Evan Solochek As autumn quietly fades into winter and morning frost starts to take hold, Milwaukee holiday cheer abounds. Lights illuminate Wisconsin Avenue, snow blankets Lake Park in peaceful starkness. And if you can push past the madness of shopping, working late to “get ahead” before your never-long-enough holiday weekend and the chaos of too many over-planned days, there’s real joy to be found in the season. Milwaukee has its share of mall Santas and giant holiday shopping expos, but we’re also steeped in some wonderful traditions that reflect the finer character of our city and its residents. Any holiday excursion in Milwaukee simply must begin with the official Holiday Lights Festival. This impressive exhibit includes roof and street level lights, along with animated displays at Cathedral Square Park, Pere Marquette Park and Zeidler Union Square. Downtown ablaze with holiday lights is truly a stunning kickoff to the holiday season. Almost nothing is more perfectly symbolic of the best winter has to offer, more the incarnation of a Norman Rockwell painting, than ice skating outdoors. While Red Arrow Park, located on busy Water Street downtown, may not be a frozen pond in the backyard of a whitewashed farm house, it still offers – at no charge if you have your own skates – one of winter’s most beloved pastimes. Conveniently, the Slice of Ice sits in front of, and shares space with, Starbucks, so bring a few bucks and pop for some cocoa for the kiddies or that special someone. Afterwards, venture over to the Milwaukee County Zoo and explore its Winter Wonderland. Stroll among the tranquil, snow-capped trees with the animals, enjoy live music, make holiday crafts and even take a hayride “From Africa to Antarctica.” Back in civilization, the (not very) subtle hum of a hundred thousand Christmas lights is your call to Candy Cane Lane. Located on Milwaukee’s Southwest side, this energy-consumption extravaganza has to be experienced to be believed. Lines of cars and people stretch for blocks for the chance to gaze upon the most elaborately adorned houses in the city as volunteers pass out candy and accept donations for the MACC fund. Not to be outdone, the Historic Third Ward offers its own holiday celebration December 2 and 3. Bathed in the majesty of Milwaukee’s most storied neighborhood, there will be a tree lighting, fireworks and the de rigueur appearance by Ol’ Saint Nick himself. After all is said and done, any one of the elegant Third Ward restaurants is the perfect place to warm up with a late dinner and a drink. Ever wonder how the holidays looked at the end of the 19th century? For a trip to Yuletide days of yore, travel to the Pabst Mansion where its nationally recognized annual Christmas display returns with “Christmas Memories of the Past.” Every room is decorated with exquisite holiday antiques, most notably Elsbeth’s room, the site of “Dear Santa, Please Bring Me: 100 years of Children’s Toys 1870-1970.” From paper dolls to board […]
Dec 1st, 2005 by Vital Archives
Brian Wilson
By Paul Snyder Aristawww.brianwilson.com The Christmas market is tricky. All the holiday CDs end up in the red cardboard bin at the front of Sam Goody. And, to be fair, Brian Wilson has had his chance. The Beach Boys’ 1964 Christmas LP did spin off the charming “Little Saint Nick,” which, on last count, had surpassed “Up on the Rooftop” in Christmas party popularity and was closing in fast on “O Come All Ye Faithful.” Only appropriate that it would be revisited here, along with “The Man With All the Toys.” Maybe it’s my distaste for Mike Love that finds something gained in the retreads. Wilson’s backed by the same group that reconstructed SMiLE, which works to his advantage, not only in providing the panoramic sound he’s always loved, but, in adding sympathetic accompaniment to a voice that’s a long way gone from 1966. There’s nothing special about Wilson’s takes on standards like “The First Noel,” and his swing at “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” verges on clumsy. There is, however, an impressive surf-rock take on “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” featuring plenty of Fenders and a great little organ solo. Of the two new songs, the Bernie Taupin co-authored title track and “Christmasey” (with lyrics by Jimmy Webb) are pleasant enough and certainly less offensive than a certain Wham! holiday original. What I Really Want For Christmas isn’t necessary, but neither is eggnog. At the right time of year and when ingested in tolerable amounts, however, both do no harm. You know Wilson’s not in this for the financial spoils, so it adds a genuine touch where a lot of other Christmas albums falter. After all, even “God Only Knows” had sleigh bells on it. VS
Dec 1st, 2005 by Vital Archives
The Dials
By Erin Wolf Latest Flame Recordswww.thedials.us Chicago’s The Dials debut album Flex Time is an exciting encounter in the already well-behaved genre of dance-band pop/rock. Snarling like the throttled vocals of Sleater-Kinney and equaling their growly, growly guitars, yet jumping off of dance-y influences such as early Joy Division and Franz Ferdinand and pure poppers such as the Go-Go’s , B52’s, and The Waitresses, The Dials are a motley crew of influences, indeed. With claims to the Chicago music scene, probably better known for its harder-edged sounds, The Dials’ music is a surprising shade of bubblegum laced with pop rocks. Patti Gran’s guitar crunches up chords, Rebecca Crawford’s bass devours the capable drum lines set by the late Douglas Meis, while Emily Dennison’s Farfisa combo organ nibbles at the main rhythms by creating intertwining surf-rock beeps. The whole effect is like listening to The Waitresses who have had too much coffee on the job – wiry and invigorating, and definitely in your face. The lyrics are fun and pop-punchy in the same vein as The Ramones. In “Bye Bye Bye Bye Baby,” Crawford taunts, “You’ll be sitting pretty in your new shitty city with your new girlfriend / I can’t wait until it ends.” Crawford, Gran and Dennison trade vocal shrieks and sneers with the grace of well-executed high-school hallway insult swap. Flex Time is full of dynamic energy, the quartet slamming out notes and chords so fast, they threaten to self-combust. It’s dance music at its best for it has enough raw energy to not be coma-inducing, nor does it put on any airs – The Dials have a lighthearted yet raw and energizing sound, censored of any false pretences. VS
Dec 1st, 2005 by Vital Archives
Thelonious Monk Quartet with John Coltrane
By Blaine Schultz Blue Notewww.bluenote.com About a half-century ago, giants walked among us. They wrote and played music for extended low-key club dates, performing special concerts and releasing records periodically. Thelonious Monk and John Coltrane were two of these giants, and this recently discovered November 29, 1957 recording from the Library of Congress vaults is a vital contribution to their respective legacies. In the summer of ‘57, Coltrane joined Monk’s group at an NYC club called the Five Spot. The Carnegie Hall recording presents the group in more genteel surroundings. Regardless of venue, these musicians are at the height of their powers, Monk certainly the more established and Coltrane ready to open doors previously unseen. If Monk’s piano playing is less spiky and angular than typical (if there is such a thing as “typical Monk”), he certainly gets into the loose sparring with Coltrane’s sax. Opening with “Monk’s Mood” from the early show, the soloists riff and dance around and through each other’s phrases. By the second tune, “Evidence,” a slipstream opens up and Coltrane blows at will. This is the early stage of his technique of playing the notes of a chord in succession—later to be called “sheets of sound”—still within the tune’s melody. But with the benefit of hindsight, it seems he’s testing the boundaries for his later masterworks. Ahmed Abdul-Malik ‘s bass provides a sinewy walking line that is both strong and resilient enough to support and propel the tune. At several points, Monk and Coltrane play unison lines to state a tune’s theme. The effect is a thickness and depth that sounds like more than a piano and saxophone, with the keyboard sounding concise and the sax just on the verge of over-blowing. Credit also Shadow Wilson’s drumming and cymbal work, which seem to have been brought into focus with the digital mastering. The closing tune, a partial take of “Epistrophy,” can be heard as Monk’s statement of purpose. On this night there is a feeling of openness and genuine collaboration. Monk is ultimately unique and not always the easiest player to get a grip on. But this evening he, Coltrane, and the others sound unguarded in their enjoyment. VS
Dec 1st, 2005 by Vital Archives
The Brian Setzer Orchestra
By Kevin Krekling Surfdogwww.briansetzer.com It’s that time of the year again. A time for shoveling snow, mistletoe hookups, eggnog hangovers and Brian Setzer Christmas albums. The former Stray Cat is back again with his second holiday record in three years. And, what you get here with Dig That Crazy Christmas is pretty much the same as what you got with 2002’s Boogie Woogie Christmas. But we’re talking about a guy who has changed virtually nothing about his style since the early ‘80s, so what do you expect? The album is simply Setzer reworking old Christmas classics in his familiar uptempo, horn-driven, rockabilly style. But given the fact that the two newly penned originals are easily forgotten duds, and that Setzer’s voice sounds pretty rough, the album is actually quite fun. Does it stack up to A Christmas Gift For You From Phil Spector? No. But, at the same time, it’s not ‘NSYNC Home For Christmas, and that is something we can all be thankful for. So, if you’re looking for something festive, fun and tolerable to throw on this holiday season, this may be right up your alley. VS
Dec 1st, 2005 by Vital Archives
