I'm a Cat Cowboy

Artist: MGMT
Video: Time To Pretend
Rating: C

It isn't easy giving a less-than-stellar grade to the video of a song you happen to like, but I'm determined to remain firm in my writing. This smattering of clip art and cheesy computer graphics, brought to you by the boys of MGMT, does not deserve anything above a C+ (I took away half a grade because those assholes don't let users embed their video, and using a hyperlink is just so outdated these days, really.)

I'll admit, I got teeny tiny goosebumps early on into the video, when the drums kick in and we're treated to a sea of (who I'm guessing to be) Andrew VanWyngardens smashing away while lead singer Ben Goldwasser muses on. And the video plays along quite nicely with the song's concept of an imaginary life of excitement and meaning. Seeing Goldwasser (or maybe VanWyngarden... you can barely tell the fucking difference between the two) surf along the colorscape brought a smile to my face.

But trippiness is a little cliche, and because this song had so much potential, I believe the director just got lazy and scrambled on some "ironically cool" effects, synched it up with music, and the only real filming took place on some beach, where a group of ignorants dressed up like savages battling crab monsters (that released several hundred dolphins upon explosion, apparently) and riding giant cats.

And the constant barrage of images, ugh, it makes me a little queasy. Child psychologists, know this: the video for "Time To Pretend" is the kind of shit instills attention deficit disorder into 6-year-olds.

Explanations

ARTIST: Deerhunter

SONG: "Lake Somerset"

RATING: D

It'seasytocallthisshitbutiguesstheressomethingadmirableaboutdoingsomethingdifferentinthecasedressinguplikearetardaretardjayreatardandmakethisvideobutimonanothersugarbingeicantpeelmyowneyesoffanotherwinfor thefoggyfrontlinesinsideandalliguessthisvideoreallyisapersonificationofiraqortherussianinvasionofgeorgiaorthepeoplethatgotrunoverbyfranzferdinandshorsewhenhewasassasinatedbutidontcarethethingseemstosaywithhisgrufflookimjustgoingtosithereanditmypizza.

The Nerve Magazine writes:

“I wanted a video of a turtle eating a piece of pizza. A few days later I received a link to youtube in my e-mail,” Cox says. What he saw was a man dressed in a turtle suit eating pizza for almost four minutes. That’s it.

TLDR: Random makes not a good music video.

Your Money or Your Life

BAND: Adam & the Ants
SONG: "Stand and Deliver"
RATING: B+

There are two reasons I cannot put this video at that treasured “A” grade, as trite as they might seem:
#1- The audio only really synchs with Adam Ant’s yapping jaws during the chorus.
#2- Somehow, this video pops into my head every single time I hear it. It kind of ruins the original mental imagery I had going originally (it involved spaceships.)

But who am I to care? The song is fucking fun, and the video almost lives up to its energy. I get the giggles every time Adam peers at me through the computer screen with his full-on goofiness. And there’s no denying the nostalgic charms of the early eighties production values.

For one, what the fuck is going on when Adam flies through the window during the King’s dinner? There seems to be at least five stand alone slow-motion sequences in this video, and that’s the only one that feels necessary throughout the “highwayman” bravado. During the slo-mo, our hero looks a little like Adam, but Adam mingled with a bit of bat DNA or some such shit. I cannot help but smile at that. Bravo!

BONUS: I highly suggest checking out Young Knives’ “Stand and Deliver” cover if you like fun.

Marrow Melodies

What kind of creature is this, you ask?

Known in most parts as "Carnivorous vulgaris" (others debate the true classification being "Eternalii famishiis"), this canine subspecies is particularly notable for it's extravagant and often ill-fated methods of capturing prey.

Never before has this figure's bone structure been assembled for display until now. Follow the link and see the assembly of other rare and interesting creatures in their entirely bare forms.

Best of luck beating back the nightmares.

On Wolfmother's breakup

So, if one hasn't already heard, the Zeppelin-rockin' boys down under, Wolfmother, has split. I, for one, couldn't be more heartbroken.

For me, this is the end of the Wolfmother I fell in love with on a plane ride from Australia.

Instead of movies, we had the option of listening to music, and on the Austrlian artist page, Wolfmother was prominently featured. My talks with folks from down under further sealed the deal that Wolfmother was probably the hottest rock band to be rolling around the country at the time, even to the point where Aussies were getting sick and tired of the "bloody" riffs of this trio.

While a break-up of the original lineup might not mean the complete end of a terrific sound, I find it hard to think that Andrew Stockdale will be able to continue Wolfmother, as he plans to do, without commandering the musical direction. Again, if that direction will be for better or worse, it's hard to predict. I remember reading that Stockdale has a passion for those long, sweeping epics that only work so often for my own ears.

I thought Wolfmother had a great sense of timing when it came to those drawn-out tales of discovery and adventure ("Colossal", "Mind's Eye", "Where Eagles Dare"), but for their shorter, catchier stuff ("Woman", "Joker and the Thief", "Love Train", "Pyramid"), they were fucking incredible. The riffs would reel in my head for days, the sweet delicious meshing of Stockdale's brawny tiger drawl and the fast-tracked heavy-settled guitar was just so much fun.

It wasn't until the three split that I discovered quite a bit of unaccounted hate sprawled across the internet. You'll hear it come mostly in one arguement: They're nothing but a Led Zep/Black Sabbath cover band who's sound is entirely tired and unoriginal.

And I frankly feel that's horseshit. I'll admit, there's definitely a classic rock vibe to their sound, but they make it feel modern, their first album was hard-hitting rock n' roll with crisp riffs and a knock-you-on-your-ass mentality, and what is so unoriginal about that? I maintain that these guys were doing their own thing and they were having a helluva time doing it... until recently I suppose. It seems pretty obvious that drummer Myles Heskett and bassist Chris Ross were quite pissed at Stockdale for reasons we will only learn of years and years from now, and even then those just might be rumors.

I look forward to seeing what each band member has got up his sleeve for future productions, but I worry nothing will ever achieve that classic feeling that debut album had. And to think... it'll be a couple years at least before we get a taste... that's a harsh realization right there.

Iowa-based Euforquestra sets up camp in Fort Collins

Originally published in Scene Magazine, August 2008

The men of Euforquestra are Colorado boys at heart.

Guitarist Mike Tallman takes on the tone of a giddy 80-year-old when he looks back at the summer vacations at his father’s cabin in Routt National Park.

“I spent pretty much every vacation as a child going up to that area and just spending a couple of weeks every summer getting away from everything,” Tallman recalls. “People tend to enjoy life to the fullest in the mountains.”

Among other reasons, a longing for purple mountain majesties inspired the Afrobeat ensemble to leave their home state of Iowa and settle down in Fort Collins, where the living is cheaper than Boulder and life functions without the big-city frenetic of Denver.

Despite the apparent excitement, the decision to move didn’t come easy to the seven twentysomethings who have spent the past five years carving their worldly beats in Iowa City.

Tallman spent his high school days in Des Moines, alongside keyboardist Eric Quiner and drummer Josten Foley. The three teamed with another buddy on bass to form Euforia, the funky rock predecessor to Euforquestra. Following graduation, the group took to Iowa City, where they crossed paths with percussionist Matt Grundstad and tenor saxophonist Ryan Jeter.

Other members would come and go as the years rolled by, but latching on for the long haul was alto saxophonist Austin Zalatel and bassist Adam Grosso. When the lineup began to resemble what Tallman describes as a “rock-band-orchestra kind of thing,” Euforia became Euforquestra.

The group has established a sizeable following in Iowa City’s community, largely attributable to Camp Euphoria, an annual musical festival on the edge of Iowa City that Tallman and the boys have been putting on since the summer of 2003.

It’s with the same eager nostalgia he expresses towards the mountains that Tallman talks about the music and arts of Iowa City: “I see it as a kind of an oasis among the cornfields out here.”

He describes the music scene as a tight-knit community, where competition takes a backseat to companionship. Each bar serves a specific set of genres. Then there’s the University of Iowa, a sizeable school that is always pumping in fresh faces and new listeners.

It’s the kind of environment that every band looking to break big would desire as a starting point. So why would these guys leave it all behind to start anew in the average-sized Fort Collins?

“Fort Collins has a very similar feel to Iowa City; it feels like it moves at the same speed, a really laid back place.” Tallman says.

Tallman adds that the group feels there’s a better market for their funked-up sound in the Western region, particularly in the jam band haven that is the West Coast. But don’t stick them with the label; Euforquestra is a rhythm-heavy flash pan of world music, seasoned with vocals from all seven members, and as a result, the music pulls from a wide variety of genres: jazz, bluegrass and rock, to name a few.

But there is always a familiar Afrobeat sound; their top influences include Fela and Femi Kuti, Steel Pulse and Burning Spear. And the one disc that never strays far from the tour van’s CD player? Sierra Leone Refugee All-Stars’ definitive Living Like A Refugee.

“I can’t even count how many times we’ve listened to that entire album in our van,” Tallman laughs. “Over the course of one tour, we’ll listen to that album like twenty times.”

While Euforquestra has performed in Fort Collins in the past, their residential debut will be a cannonball entrance. Besides several August shows, including a Bohemian Nights performance at NewWestFest on August 16, Tallman expects the group to begin laying down tracks for a second album by October. So much for a transition period...

“It’s gonna be hard to leave,” Tallman said. “But just like anything, it’s turning over a new leaf. When one thing ends, something else begins.”

Otem Rellik puts on a show

During her opening act at a small gathering in a middle-of-nowhere house in Fort Collins, singer-songwriter Danielle Ate a Sandwich interrupts her own show.


Without stopping her sandy ukulele solo, her voice acquires pronounced perk: “Hey, its Otem Rellik!”


Her listeners follow her gaze to peer over their shoulders at the rapper, one Toby Hendricks, a husky 25-year-old who sports an unkempt chinstrap beard that dribbles out of his trucker hat with redneck finesse. Faced with a room of eyes, he shoots a smile and a wave before taking a seat near the back of the room. Attention then returns to Danielle, whose performance continues as if nothing’s happened.


But something has happened; Otem Rellik, the white guy whose experimental brand of electronic hip-hop has put him among Colorado’s “best kept secrets”, has just walked into the building. He’s the biggest name playing tonight. This is the guy whose gone on tour in Europe when the other acts still dream of booking a bar gig in Denver.


Despite this, the expected Kanye-bravado is absent; Hendricks looks like he’d rather go unnoticed, at least until he is safely behind a mic.


“He’s a quiet kid,” says Braden Smith, who signed Hendricks to his label, Denver-based Ponowai Flora Records, in 2006. “I wanted to get (his music) out there more than himself.”


“Toby is probably the most harmless guy I know,” adds friend Jonathan Alonzo. “He’s one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met, and I think it was kind of surprising, because it was like ‘Oh, he’s the hip-hop guy, he’s probably got an ego.’”





True to the quiet nature that his friends and associates speak of him, the soft-spoken Hendricks has few comments to offer about his upbringings, unless music is somehow involved.



He says he has enjoyed growing up in Fort Collins, the city where his love for music was cultivated.

“Back in the day, it was mostly Public Enemy and N.W.A.,” Hendricks says. “I grew up listening to whatever my brother and my older brother listened to.”

A decade later — after a “ska and punk phase” in middle and high school — Hendricks said a friend introduced him to the synth-stocked sounds of Anticon, a San Francisco hip-hop label.

“It was so much different than the hip-hop I was currently listening to,” Hendricks said. “It turned me on to a lot more experimental stuff, not just in hip-hop but in indie rock and electronica and everything.”

Hendricks lists the entire Anticon lineup as his influences, specifically citing Doseone and Sole as artists who sparked his interest in using cold, crunching electronics as a backdrop to fast-paced rhymes. Discovering Anticon “opened the doors” for Hendricks.

“The more I listened to it, the more I wanted to make something,” Hendricks says, adding that he was eventually compelled to purchase a Casio keyboard and a TASCAM four-track recorder one afternoon in 2003. “I just tried laying out songs the best way I knew how. I was just like ‘What can I do with this?’ with no expectations whatsoever.”



Where he might have relied on expectations to drive him into furthering his art, Hendricks had his experimentations.



A particularly rousing session on the World Wide Web introduced Hendricks to circuit bending, a practice in which musicians rewire electronic devices to generate new sounds. Inspired, Hendricks began to explore the innards of his Casio, toying with wires and rerouting circuit points. The result: a weird lo-fi piano machine with every key purring displaced pitch. Hendricks says he isn’t entirely satisfied with his first creation.



“It’s kind of hard to work it into music… you’re trying to have a chord progression or something and you have a really weird, out-of-tune Casio,” he says.



Regardless, Hendricks has made a hobby of circuit bending, a pastime that has powered him through three EPs and five albums; he’s manipulated everything from Speak & Spells to talking-string dolls to achieve his musical mischief.



Smith admits that Hendricks’ brouhaha was a little off-putting in his first listen. Smith, who performs under the moniker Ancient Mith, first met Hendricks after a performance at the Larimer Lounge in late 2006. Knowing of Smith’s label, Hendricks handed him Petrified Human Project, his then-latest recording.



“I got like six or seven CDs that night, and seriously, that was the only one that was worth a shit,” Smith says. “I didn’t even like it at first… then I gave it another listen and was like ‘Yeah, I need to get a hold of this kid.’”



Hendricks signed onto Ponowai Flora Records later that year, working closely with Smith to improve his melodies and musical connectedness to produce his most recent album, Chain Reaction Robot, which dropped in March 2008. When asked what appealed to him about the music, Smith points to the lyrics, which Hendricks barely brings above a mumble as he softly pours his words into the mic.


“I don’t think Toby’s music is for everybody, I really don’t,” Smith says. “But I think there’s a realness and a emotional connection. I’ve even learned from watching him in that sense of taking just absolute personal issues and just airing them, whether they be the stupidest smallest thing, or just the biggest thing.”



The critics haven’t entirely agreed.



In his semi-approving review of Chain Reaction Robot, Rocky Mountain Chronicle music critic Elliot Johnson dug at the rhymes of Otem Rellik: “…his subject matter is obsessively confessional (i.e. anyone who uses the word “emo” as derogatory, which is most everyone who uses the term, will run from this album after Track One.)”



Hendricks remains entirely vague about the experiences and situations that inspire his lyrics, even with the curious journalist. His simple answer: “Most of the stuff I write about is generally about bad things.” But he takes offense at being labeled as “emo”, even when it’s directed at him offhandedly.



“There’s so much associated with that word, and a lot of it is negative to a lot of people,” Hendricks said. “Tupac made emo music according to what emo music is. His lyrics are emotional, but he’s making gangster rap, so why would you call that emo?”



It’s about 1:22 a.m. back at the house, and Otem Rellik is making preparations.



Most of the crowd has petered out, but the few who’ve stuck behind watch as Hendricks arranges his magical table of wire-crossed gizmos: two circuit-bent Casios, an iPod, a drum machine, a row of pedals set to distort and echo with the turn of a knob, a Speak & Spell and one disembodied doll head at the bottom of the mic stand.



“I’m not one for hip-hop, but Toby really makes me like it,” says friend and fellow musician Marty Albertz. “It’s his style. He’s not at all musically trained, so everything he’s doing is different.”



As Hendricks introduces himself to the crowd, his fingers hover above the various gadgets, which gleam like fluorescent fairies in the darkened basement of the house. And even now, behind that safe and warm mic, his bashfulness is showing; his eyes keep to his table, directing his fingers with clockwork precision, stabbing and twisting and dialing and flipping as he sings along with the melancholic fuzz he’s creating.

Here, among friends and dedicated friends, including a fawning girlfriend, one has to wonder why Hendricks has such a hard time with eye contact. This is, after all, his place to be.


“At a (concert) venue, you don’t know the people and they don’t know who you are. Half the time it’s just people going there to drink, which generally is a crowd of people who aren’t even into what I’m doing anyway,” Hendricks said. “House shows are definitely more appealing to me: more relatable people there, and they’re more fun, generally a lot more fun than playing at a venue.”