OUT TO SEE: A YEAR IN PHOTOS (VANCOUVER & LOCAL MUSIC EDITION PART 2: APRIL – JUNE)
APRIL
Row 1: Get Set Go, The Slow Death, Twilight Sleep
Row 2: Whispertown 2000
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MAY
East to West – From a Church of Rock ‘n’ Roll to the Hotel Cafe
Every night of the week you can find a million things to do, even on a weeknight…especially on a weeknight. Tonight is no different. Out of those millions of things to go to here’s where you might catch us tonight:
Hotel Cafe for Vermont based, singer-songwriter Kris Gruen (cover $8)
Gruen’s new album, “Part Of It All,” is set for release in the next month via Mother’s West. This record was produced by Charles Newman, who recently co-produced the new Magnetic Fields album, “Realism”, as well as our friend AM’s “Future Sons and Daughters.” While recording in both New York City and Los Angeles Gruen was able to collaborate and record with some great musicians and friends, including drummer Butch Norton (The Eels, Lucinda Williams, Rufus Wainright), bassist Sebastian Steinberg (Soul Coughing, Dixie Chicks), Nashville’s Jason Goforth on lapsteel, and drummer Nick Brown from New York City’s The Dig.
Tonight he shares the stage with Nina Storey.
and…
Old Towne Pub for Mike TV’s Church of Rock ‘n’ Roll (Cover $3)
A weekly event happening every Thursday at the Old Towne Pub (66 North Fair Oaks Avenue, Pasadena, CA 91103). Tonight the ever elusive Wormstew (whom you may recall Eric Summer spotlighted a few months ago) will be performing along with The Power Cords, Underwater City People, Get Set Go (speaking of Eric Summer you can catch him on Viola with Get Set Go), as well as an end of night All Band Jam (where else can you catch Indie Rockers/Power-Poppers/Mod Revivalists embarking on impromptu covers of 2 Live Crew’s “Me So Horny?“)
New Maximum Donkey Two Ways
I’ve decided to try something a bit different this week. I’m going to write an overview of the New Maximum Donkey show I saw at the Scene last Friday (two Fridays ago, by the time you read this). But as an experiment, I’m going to do it two different ways: first the way I’d normally write something, and second in the manner of a “regular” rock writer/blogger. Who knows? Maybe the way they write things is just more effective at conveying this sort of thing, so I’m willing to try it out. Here goes: (more…)
Fetch Me My Box of Soap!
A year or two, back when Myspace was still the place hip young trendsetters went to look at grainy webcam pictures of girls in bikinis, Get Set Go had a pretty sizeable presence on that quintessence of social networking. More than “pretty sizeable,” actually–it was huge for an indie rock band without the backing of empty business suits stuffed with money and cocaine (I guess the technical term is “A&R people). We had fifty thousand friends (only about 25% of whom were robots made of spam and pictures of boobs) and well over a million plays on our little embedded jukebox thingy. Hell, if we’d lived in Myspace instead of the real world, we’d've been hand-fed bitmapped pictures of grapes by callipygian spambots all day, and slept on .gifs of posturepedic adjustable mattresses lined with paypal account numbers. (more…)
The War For Independence – Mike Viola
Chapter 6: Mike Viola
A couple years ago, my bandmate Jim (AKA “Top Shelf”) and I were carpooling to a rehearsal (I used to really like carpooling because my car’s registration was expired for quite a while. I am a lawbreaker and a risk-taker, and, dare I say, a mischief-maker. Not much of a heartbreaker or love-taker, but don’t you mess around with me nonetheless). Jim’s iPod, instead of playing “More than a Feeling” by Boston or “Big Bottom” by Spinal Tap like it was supposed to, was playing something I didn’t recognize. So I asked him what it was. Following is a transcript of what that conversation probably sounded like, given the ultrageeky proclivities of both Jim and me (Jim has a tattoo of what it says on the One Ring, in the Black Speech of Mordor, on his arm):
Me: “What’s this? Star Wars Watchmen Buffy.”
Jim: “ It’s Mike Viola. He used to live in Boston where I used to live. Nightcrawler Wolverine Firefly Sam Adams Haaaavard.”
Me: “He’s good! I like it. Frodo Batman Shelob Rorschach Vader.”
Jim: “Yeah, he co-wrote and sang ‘That Thing You Do.’ Yoda Red Sox Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen Nigel Tufnel.”
Me: “I’ll be damned! Gandalf Skywalker Nite Owl Preacher Cthulhu.”
That’s a pretty fair approximation, I think. Anyway, that was the last time I thought about Mike Viola until a couple years later. This year, to be precise. While I was looking at the schedule for Largo in preparation for my Jon Brion article, I saw that Mike Viola was playing a show a few weeks later in the “Little Room.” Cool!
So, later, I was having a drink in the Little Room before the Jon Brion show, and decided to ask the bartender if he’d seen Mike Viola play there before. Following is a transcript of what that conversation might have sounded like, taking into account the way I talk to people I don’t know:
Me: “Mumblemumble Mike Viola?”
Bartender: “Oh yeah, he’s playing here in a couple weeks. He’s really good.”
Me: (drinking beer): “Shlorp. Grumble. Hurm.”
Bartender: “Yeah, I usually see him when he plays here. I think he moved to LA a while ago. Here, have this copy of his newest album. It’s great.”
Me: “Gurgle. Grrrrr. Thanks. Hisssssssssss.”
Again, probably pretty accurate. Anyway, I took the album home (it was 2007’s Lurch), and damn if I didn’t listen to the whole thing in its entirety three times in a row. And I listened to the first track (“Maybe, Maybe Not”) by itself over and over. It made me happy instantly, which is not something I am accustomed to and which sometimes gives me acid reflux. The bartender was not wrong. Lurch is an immensely enjoyable album. Mike Viola’s songwriting is in the vein of what Jon Brion called “unpopular pop” (I really like that term and have co-opted it for my own use, sometimes shortening it to “unpop” to save valuable time and syllables): highly melodic, clever, and catchy, and there is no good or just reason why his songs aren’t more popular than they are.
It seems to me that irony is the main tool of the songwriter these days—I’m generalizing, of course, but it makes a sort of sense. Rejection in any form is easier to take if one appears uncaring and detached, and I’m as guilty as anyone of that little tendency. But in songs, I tend to find it off-putting. Mike Viola does not fall into this easy trap. His songs contain the sort of earnestness that makes you think you know the guy a little bit, or at least understand and sympathize when appropriate (I’m using the second person singular here. I don’t like doing that, but using the first person in that sentence didn’t feel near ironic or detached enough for my fragile psyche. A thousand apologies for foisting my opinions on you).
Anyway, after absorbing Lurch, I scoured Amoeba for the Mike Viola catalogue. All I came up with after hours of searching was an album by his previous band, Candy Butchers, called Play With Your Head. It was also great, with the same style of songwriting but slightly different instrumentation, but it made me think that this guy deserves much more exposure than he gets. Either that, or I should try buying things online once in a while instead of hunting around record stores like a caveman. Probably both.
So I continued my research by seeing Mike Viola’s live show at Largo. Let me begin by saying that the Little Room is a great place to see a singer-songwriter. It’s tiny and intimate, and the only amplification the performer needs is a microphone (probably not even that, but he had one).
Mr. Viola is an engaging and appealing performer. He switched between acoustic guitar and piano, with occasional assistance from a friend who played muted trumpet. His interactions with the audience were frequent, and frequently hilarious, especially during an improvised song he called “Childhood Trauma.” It’s always a great deal of fun to see a performer who seems to be having as much fun as the audience, and Mike Viola has exactly the same type of stage presence I’d hoped he had after hearing his songs. He mentioned doing a monthly residence of sorts at the Little Room, which I intend to see whenever possible. I recommend that everyone else in the world should do the same, although I have no idea how they’ll all fit into that room. Maybe if enough people get together, they can teach him to say his last name right. It’s supposed to be “Vee-ola,” like the instrument I play, but he inexplicably pronounces it “Vai-ola.” Clearly wrong.
Well, I’m off to find someplace “on-line,” as they say, where people can look for music and then buy it. If I can find that sort of website somewhere, I’m gonna find all the Mike Viola and Candy Butchers albums I can, and then listen to ‘em. In the meantime, why not make the trek over to www.mikeviola.com and buy Lurch? To whet the appetite, here’s “Maybe, Maybe Not” on youtube:
(Mike Viola photo originally published here)
Tour Food Part II
That’s right, this is a topic that requires not one but two columns of material. When last we left Get Set Go and New MaximumDonkey, they were leaving Seattle, city of rain and hamburgers, and driving inexorably east into the gathering storm…
Missoula, Montana: Hoagieville
In high school, I had friends who worked at Hoagieville, so it was a frequent lunch destination for a doe-eyed, scrawny, slightly less cynical Eric Summer who had a complexion like undercooked lasagna. I never had much money for lunch, so I had to restrict myself to cheese fries most of the time. But the world-weary, adult (strictly in the physical sense), gainfully employed version of me, revisiting the old hometown, was delighted to see that not only was Hoagieville still standing right where I left it, but that I could now afford to eat a Steak Like Nick Likes and some cheese fries! And maybe a milkshake! How is it that I don’t gain forty pounds while we’re on tour?
Arvada, Colorado: The D-Note
This is where we played most often in the Denver area. It’s a restaurant-bar that hosts live music, perfect for our needs. The Brick House Pizza is excellent. It has, like, BBQ sauce and bacon on it, which are two of my favorite food groups. The beer selection is totally decent, and there are richly deserved drink tickets for the band.
In discussing our Colorado shows, I’d be remiss not to mention The Mumbles, with whom we nearly always play when we’re in the area. They’re a great XTC-and-Elliott-Smith-influenced power pop band. Really nice guys. Our shows with them are always among the best-of-tour.
Bethlehem, Pennsylvania: J’s Steaks & Subs
As everybody knows, Philly Cheesesteaks are the perfect food. Though we’ve never played in Philadelphia, to my recollection, there was a tour in which we played at Musikfest in Bethlehem. Jeremy from New MaximumDonkey is from Bethlehem (he also has a beard—write your own Jesus joke here: ________________________________________) (also, his dad runs Musikfest), so he’s pretty dialed-in as to where the good cheesesteaks are. Both times we went to Bethlehem, I had some sort of pizza cheesesteak from J’s Steaks and Subs. I tend to pick one thing I like and stick with it. The pizza steak thingy is goooooooood.
I’d also like to note that I don’t give a tinker’s damn about the “authenticity” of a cheesesteak. Food regionalism has always seemed like bullshit to me. Just cook some steak, put it in a bun, and put some cheese and onions on it. What’s the big deal? I don’t care if it was notarized by the mayor of Philadelphia or not. It tastes good.
New York: That Deli Right Around the Corner from the Knitting Factory
Yeah, I don’t know the name of this place. Can’t be bothered to look it up, either. But this is where we usually eat when we play at the Knitting Factory in New York. You can’t miss it. You know where the Knitting Factory is in New York City? Just go down the street, turn one direction or the other, and it’s right there. It’s a beautiful combination of proximity, sandwiches, and $38 packs of cigarettes. Well, that last bit is slightly exaggerated. They probably aren’t more than about $25 per pack. But the sandwiches are really good. They have different kinds of mustard and everything. I think one of ‘em has sun-dried tomatoes or something. Just trust me; the sandwiches “rock,” in the parlance of our times. OK, this entry was quarter-assed at best, but this place deserves at least a fractionally buttocked mention just because we’ve been there so many times.
The South: Barbecue
You know how sometimes if something goes badly, people say “and that’s when it all went south”?
Yeah, there’s a reason they chose “south” for that expression and not, for instance, “northwest.” It just happens that every time we go to the southern states on tour, that’s when the shows start not being very good anymore. This is a generalization; there have been some southern shows that have been a lot of fun, but generally, once we hit Florida, the shows trend suckward. I don’t want to insult or offend the people of this run-down religious-themed amusement park of a region (because I’m too tired)—good honest hardworking people, salt of the earth, blah blah blah. Whatever. The people are fine, and some of them are even really cool; they just don’t go see live music. I’ve lived in Kentucky and Florida long enough to know that there’s one thing that saves this draconian backwater hickhole: the restaurants here specialize in the barbecuing of various meats and the slathering of them with sundry tangy sauces. I can’t really narrow it down to one restaurant; they’re all over the place, and they all help get us through this Tennessee Williams-Deliverance portion of the tour. Again, I have no idea what the hell Dylan eats for this 2000-mile stretch.
The South: Waffle House
OK, two things save the south. The first is the barbecue, and the second is Waffle House. It’s not necessarily that the food is great (although some of it is; I really loved the chocolate chip waffle with chocolate syrup and whipped cream on it); it’s that it’s everywhere. Whenever you need food in the south, even if it’s at 3 a.m., and the van’s broken or stuck in the mud, or someone in one of the bands has just killed a prostitute or a hobo, there’s practically always a Waffle House around. And there’s something about chocolate waffles and bacon sandwiches and hash browns with all sorts of onions and mushrooms and jalapenos and junk all over ‘em that makes it seem like everything’s gonna be just fine. Even when it clearly isn’t.
Jeremy doesn’t like Waffle House. This is forgivable because he provides us with cheesesteaks (see above).
Honorable Mention: Convenience Stores
Of course, it wouldn’t really be a tour without stopping for gas. This provides me a time to smoke while everybody else runs off to take care of their various bodily functions. Also, convenience stores usually contain a healthy array of beef jerky (the underappreciated workhorse of the touring diet), jalapeno Pringles, and Chex Mix to give you that much-needed protein-and-saturated-fat boost necessary for good freeway driving. Actually, I’d postulate that maybe 50% of the eating on tour is done out of shiny cellophane bags and cardboard tubes.
For further information on GSG/NMD tour shenanigans, including why Dave killed the prostitute, Star Wars fixations, and Benny’s extraneous body parts, see the Tour Documentary DVD included with the fourth Get Set Go album ( Sunshine, Joy & Happiness: A Tragic Tale of Death, Despair and Other Silly Nonsense)! Or, to experience this enviable, glamorous rock and roll lifestyle firsthand, just stuff yourself into a van with seven or eight other people and drive around the country for a month!