Discorder CITR-FM (Radio station : Vancouver, B.C.) 2001-05-01

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that   bicycling  everywhere      magazine     from     citr     101.9    fm
M ay        20 0 1 Free
PI us
Jerk      With
K e i j i
Ai   k o      Shimada
Fro nh e      Sparo
Of       Montreal
Pinup   Centerfold     Photo    Es   say TOUR
Isfcafeooan/ frankie sparo hates rock journalism by lyndsay sung p. 9
of montreal are so cute and wordy by chris-a-riffic p. 10
a shameless plug for keiji haino by luke meat p. 11
these jerks are the bomb! by julie a p. 12
pin it on your wall, it's a centrefold by vanessa hawryluk &
art kidz p. 14
aiko shimada is a busy rabbit by barbara a. p. 17
culture shock p. 5
radio free press p. 5
7" p. 6
kill your boyfriend p. 7
Vancouver special p. 7
strut & fret p. 8
louder than a bomb p. 8
shut up and listen p, 16
under review p. 18
real live action p. 20
charts p. 23
on the dial p. 24
kick around (comic) p. 25
datebook p. 26
april erratum:
oops! we printed the wrong
email address tor the bond
"this month we're going to get all the layouts done
by monday so we can have a three-day
production," someone soid at the discorder
production meeting, ha ha ha. that is so very
amusing, when your writers don't hand their articles
in until two weeks after the deadline, things go a
wee bit differently, julie colero, i om talking to you.
her jerk with a bomb article is on page 11. this is a
picture of josh from that band, or part of him.
onyway. photo by chris frey, design by lori k.
Barbara Andersen
Lyndsay Sung
Maren Hancock
art hooligans:
Lori Kiessling, Matt Searcy
pompous ass:
Christa Min
photo editor:
Ann Goncalves
real live action editor:
Steve DiPasquale
Lori, Matt, Lyndsdy Sung, Tdra
Westover, Tristan Winch
photography and illustrations:
Chris Frey, Vanessa Hawryluk, Scoff
Malin, William
Minoo Alipoor, Julie Colero,
Sungbot, Tristan Winch
on the dial:
Bryce Dunn
Luke Meat
Matt Steffich
us distribution:
Lindsay Marsak
Linda Scholten
© "DiSCORDER" 2001 by the Student Radio Society of the University of British Columbio. All rights
reserved. Circuldtion 17,500. Subscriptions, poyable in advance, to Canadidn residents dre $15 for
one year, to residents of the USA are $15 US; $24 CDN elsewhere. Single copies are $2
(to cover postage, of course). Please make cheques or money orders payable IcxDiSCORDER Magazine.
DEADLINES: Copy deadline for the June issue is May 16th. Ad spdce is available until May 23rd
and cdn be booked by calling Maren at 604.822.3017 ext. 3. Our rates are available upon request. DiSCORDER is not responsible for loss, damage, or any other injury to unsolicited manuscripts, unsolicited artwork (including but not limited to drawings, photographs and transparencies), or any other
unsolicited material. Material can be submitted on disc or in type. As always, English is preferred. Send
e-mail to DiSCORDER ot discorder@club.ams.ubc.ca.
From UBC to Langley and Squamish to Bellingham, CiTR can be heard at 101.9 fM as well as
through all major cable systems in the Lower Mainland, except Shaw in White Rock. Call the
CiTR DJ line at 822.2487, our office at 822.3017 ext. 0, or our news and sports lines ot 822.3017
ext. 2. Fax us at 822.9364, e-mail us at: citrmgr@ams.ubc.ca, visit our web site at http://www.citr.ca or just
pick up a goddamn pen and write #233-6138 SUB Blvd., Vancouver, BC, V6T1Z1, CANADA.
printed in Canada Finnis
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l^w f 111: h i \ - i4^:~LZ_zjLZjjczrzrz& nthony monday:kuwaiti correspondent
This article is dedicated to
the greatest budgie that
ever was: Killer. Allah
rest his little yellow soul. He
has flown to the great birdcage
in the sky and left us all behind,
weeping and metaphor-less.
It was probably a good
thing, anyway, as I was recently
having murderous thoughts
about the little ball of autism.
The sheer dullness of his existence (and his habit of shitting
on my walls When he finally
decided to leave his cage) left
me with fantasies of "Budgie
On Toast." Last week, I reached
the point where I thought it
would be best to give him up to
a family I knew that owned
other brightly-coloured birds. I
thought it better he were happier there than nervous and
depressed in my lonely apart-
Apparently the excitement
was too much. Released into the
aviary, he fluttered frantically,
flapping and swooping. His
new-found friends joined him
and they danced the dance of
happy birds, at which point,
Killer had a massive coronary
and dropped out of the sky,
nose-diving into death.
Now, this can be interpreted—as metaphor—two ways:
Firstly, when I, the human
incarnation of Killer, am finally
released from this boring bourgeois exile, I will go fluttering
madly back to Vancouver and
the gay men and sleazy bar-
stars. I will be so excited,
overindulging in every aspect
of that superficial culture, that
while dancing the dance of the
"clubbed to boredom" I will
suddenly drop dead from too
much stimulation. A second
interpretation could be that I
am safer and happier in this
hole of an apartment, where the
desert is the colour of my life,
and I should stay, safe and
speechless, inside.
Either way, I am screwed.
And I'm saddened that, even in
death, Killer acts as a metaphor
for my life. God rest his feathers. I shall miss him and his nervous sideways glances.
Anyway, I cannot rest in
mournful oblivion and must
strive onwards. This month's
topic is "The Bourgeois Life I
Lead" or "How Kuwait Made
Me Less Open-Minded."
Money does that sort of thing,
you know. However, you
would not know that, dear
reader, being the poverty-stricken "alternative" degenerates
that you are. I don't know why I
write to you, really. The burden
of educating you is too much to
I have become part of the
elite, you see. I have every right
to snub you and your culture. I
have moved upward, following
my hidden consumer desires. I
have licked the cum-coated fingers of the class system, and
they have repaid me with the
exulted, the desired, the coveted Very Expensive Gym
Membership. I work out three
times a week at none other than
the Holiday Inn.
There was really no choice.
There is really very little else to
do in Kuwait. Oh sure, I could
go to a mall, but we know what
happens when I go there, and I
can't take any more sexual frus
tration. Yes, sure, I could go see
an edited film with all the un-
Islamic ideals bleeped or cut
out. (The latest James Bond
movie was only 45 minutes
long. That included trailers. I
don't know why they bother.)
Or I could, I suppose, watch TV,
but the only channel I get seems
to be a continuous loop of
sports fishing programs. In
Arabic. And, funnily enough,
staring at the walls and trying
to come up with creative pro-
Thankfully, I fell over and
the nasty bump to the forehead
seemed to jolt me back to sanity.
I don't know how much I can
take, though. I find myself not
even blinking when I see a completely covered woman walk
behind her husband. I merely
think, my, what a lovely shapeless dress she has. I forget to
cringe when I see the abused
15-year-old Asian maids, I forget to thank the Bengali woman
who cleans my classroom when
jects for passing the time has
lost its charm.
And now that Killer has left
me all alone, I don't even have
anyone/anything to talk to.
Joining the gym just seemed to
be the next logical step in an
endless series of logical steps
pushing towards everything I
hate. I caught myself thinking
Destiny's Child really were
"Independent Women." You go,
girls, I thought to myself... you
put the two extra "R's" in Grrrl.
she offers to make me tea. I forget to make eye contact with the
elderly under-paid street workers. I forget to get angry when a
Kuwaiti will have any non-
Kuwaiti deported for the slightest infringement. How, by law,
land and businesses, and how
despite the three Jaguars and
four Mercedes in his driveway,
he will still only pay his driver
$100 a month. And those are the
And me, I go to the gym
and melt into the walls of the
sauna, sink deep into the
Olympic-sized swimming pool,
ride and ride on that Nautilus-
Fitness-Bike-2002TM and still
go nowhere. I stare at myself in
the change-room full length
mirror, stare at my bourgeois
body, my sun-tanned skin, my
fictitious self, and wonder
where I went wrong, and how
much longer this can go on.
I have begun to measure
time in stones, beautiful smooth
stones I found in the desert.
There are two piles on my floor.
One pile represents days I have
left, and one pile represents
days I have completed. On particularly hideous days, I make
sure it is a big rock that is
changing piles. I think I moved
a small mountain three days
ago when I found my students
playing with the new Eminem
doll and his shiny extra plastic
"alter-ego" Stan, with detachable chain-saw. Toys are such a
good way to educate.
The heat has moved in, and
suddenly it's 45 degrees outside. Now, there are only scorpions and evaporating water.
Everything is beige. Nondescript.
Suddenly lonelier than the
moon, again. Killer's cage lies
empty in the corner, and 1 toast
his ghost with the empty glass
like in all the movies, laugh,
and move a stone from one pile
to the other.
65 days to go. •
radio free
Why make a zine? Not
talking magazine
here, I'm asking why
some people feel the need to
create something which reaches
the bare minimum of readers,
costs much more to produce
than we ever see in return, and
which often alienates most of
the world's population? Why? I
imagine that the answer is different for many zinesters. For
the poet it may be the overwhelming desire to create art, to
take an intangible thought and
put it to hard copy, sharing a
moment in time, a fragment of
beauty and stillness in a society
seeped in information overload.
Or perhaps you are the cartoonist that has great ideas but no
publisher and no desire to
struggle for the rest of your life
to merely see something of
yours in print. There's the revolutionary who wants to convey
a message or ideology but
knows that most magazine editors won't dare print anything
too controversial. If you are a
music fanzine publisher, you
may be doing it to keep receiving those great complimentary
giveaways. All the
have an ambition that keeps
things going but almost all of
them  wish  to connect with
someone    else    out    there.
Otherwise why do it at all?
You stick the thing in the
photocopier   'cause   you
want your privacy? No, you
want  somebody  to  read
your funky piece of shit and
be influenced in some way.
It's some sort of human
psychology that I'll leave to
■xperts, but it happens
Fisher interviews and photographs this busy freak who
has town officials up in arms
and locals amused or indignant.
Please observe the applause
■r again
man with
broken leg
So how do you get the
message out about your
zine? Reviews are one good
way to do that, and the
Canadian reviewer called
BROKEN PENCIL is currently
available at better magazine
racks in real cities. Issue #15
focuses on small town editors
who have shaken things up in
their communities and inspired
newcomers, bands, and a little
healthy rebellion. In Stratford,
Ontario Chris Rickett produces
a newsletter that strikes fear in
the hearts of the locals. No
small feat, kids. Fillerl's Dave
light. Saskatchewan writer Cliff
Burns offers a short article on
rural survival in North
Battleford. Mecca Normal's
Jean Smith visits old friend
Chris Lowther, now living in
Tofino, BC. The two used to
make zines in Vancouver during the mid '80s; Jean's Smarten
Up became the label she
released her first record on.
Chris edited Cheeky Rebel back
then but is now an activist.
Michelle Cross delivers a fat
article about coming of age (in
an indie-cred kind of way) in
Kamloops. She discovered zines
at an early age and started one
up herself, broadening into the
talented college upstart she is
today. One of Michelle's mentors was some weirdo named
Bleek who, according to the
article, stirred "cultural change"
in the small town of Merritt, BC.
Broken Pencil continues to consolidate and highlight the independent press in Canada
through a great letters section, excerpts of several
zines, comics and chap-
books, and loads of zine
reviews. (PO Box 203,
Station P, Toronto, ON M5S
2S7 or www.brokenpen-
A couple of incomprehensible zines that have
made it to the mailbox here
at DiSCORDER are
BREEN by Amy Honey and
Wray. It must have cost Ms.
Honey a pretty penny to copy
with every page a colour-copied
montage with occasional minimal type. Gurple Ped Rellow
Breen is either a masterful work
of outsider art or just wacky cut
and paste mayhem. I offer it up.
(Write and send stuff to Amy
HQney at 179 W 18th Avenue,
Vancouver, BC V5Y 2A6)
Bad Haircut, on the other
hand, is black and white, short
and sloppy. Like a lot of angsty
high school zines that I have
seen so many times before,
except that this has much less
substance. I hate to give negative reviews, and while I think
it is great that the editor has
been creating, I found I learned
very little and was charmed
even less. Issue #2 has a bit
more filler and some strange
letters from televangelist Benny
Hinn's website and some
promising creative fiction. Hey,
maybe I'm not punk enough to
get it, eh? (Send a buck to
Morgan Wray at 4257 Grange
Road, Victoria, BC V8Z 4V9)
A thoughtful individual
in the RFP box recently. This
newsprint letter-sized zine is all
hardcore, back to front, with
articles from self-important
ranters and, of course, interviews with bands. The zine has
also, somehow incredibly, conjured up the idea of top 10 lists!
The idea that the magazine con-
tributers get to list their favorite
albums of the last year! How
about that! Actually, anytime
punks take to writing something out and sharing it with
the rest of us I think it's a valuable thing. So in issues #5 and
#6 that I received, there are features with the bands Nice
View, Blaine Cook, Hellnation,
Exclaim, Abstain, and Jlait plus
more info on labels, the hardcore scene, the fear of selling
out,     local     politics,    ZINE
REVIEWS(!) and what punk
really is, blah blah blah. (PO
Box 420843, San Francisco, CA
94142-0843 USA)
#4 is out now in the standard,
very indie format and is available at better zine shelves in
town. MWBL features the old-
school cut and paste format
where paragraphs are set atop
other magazine pictures—you
know the type. This is basically
a music zine, so expect it to be
ignored or shit on by the big
zine reviewers. What this humble project  features  is some
observations, and short poems.
Needless to say, completely
groundbreaking, especially the
part where the bands (Olo,
Small Brown Bike, Acacia) are
asked what their major influences are. Now that's journalism! Well... it's a zine. ($1 to
Anthony Gerace, 806 Barclay
Road, London, ON N6K 3H6)
What? Haven't seen your
zine reviewed here? Have you
sent your gc ddamn zine? Do it
Send your zines io
.eek at ^233-6138 SU
Blvd., Vancouver.
5 iimgsmm A closet full of
nothing to hear! I'm
exploring new options
this month, many of which I'd
hoped were purged from my
system (British popular music,
most notably), but I'm still
searching for that perfect tune
to throw on the stereo.
Amazingly enough (though not
so surprising for those of us
who know and love the band),
the cream of the litter comes
from our very own Van City,
and so I will first and foremost
give high props and an overly-
enthusiastic review to our very
This new single was a long
time coming but worth the
wait. Nothing brings a smile to
your face faster than throwing
on an Evaporators record...
unless maybe it's attending a
live performance! Nardwuar
and his cohort return in fine
style on "Honk the Horn,"
offering up four catchy songs
and one juicy interview tidbit.
The songs are stellar, as always,
all of them Evaporators originals, and all instant hits in the
"sing along" category. "Honk
the Horn" would be perfect for
Tommy Lee really sent me, as
I've got this dreadful weakness
for  the scrawny,  zitty,  bad-
haired metallic drummer. His
motor-boat    escapades    are
known to many, but it took a
real man (Mr. Nardwuar himself) to tease the bejeebies out
of   Tommy   about   it.   The
Human Serviette can bring
'em all to their knees! (Mint,
PO Box 3613, Vancouver, BC
V6B 3Y6)
On to other fairly good
fodder, not as hot but thank-
hilly warm enough: CECILIA
ET SES ENNUIS is all about
the Francophone good times.
I'm constantly thankful that I'm
partially in the know when it
comes to French, German, and
Dutch, because that knowledge
always offers up a few more
bands I can sing along to with
some clue. Cecilia's got a sexy
voice (accentuated by the foreign mystique), and her backing
band knows what's doing with
the '60s garage rock sound. The
band even goes so far as to add
in a little bit of sitar flavour to
the second track, "Viens me
Vampiriser." Yeah! If you got off
on any of that April March
stuff, when she was fooling in
French and with The Makers,
get on this; ditto if you're down
with The Heatcoatees. It's
good. (Telstar, PO Box 1123,
Hoboken, NJ 07030 USA)
Two Ubiquity singles that
rub me indifferently are THE
and JAMES COMBS releases. I
am not much of a jazz fan, and
that whole jazz fusion thing
does not a thing for me. Bah.
But, being optimistic and open-
minded, I'll say this: if people
are down with all the Medeski,
Martin and Wood weed-
smokin' new jazz vibes, they'd
better like this James Taylor
Quartet thing. Why not? The
band is funky fresh, with good
beats and strong keys on
"Chalk Pit" and big speedy bass
and crazy flute action on
"Tough Chicken." The latter is
very '70s, which I guess is what
the people want out of all of this
stuff. The James Combs single
troubles me, as it seems someone has led this man astray.
With a nice Nick Drake voice
(all the rage these days), the
man might have an inch
or twelve of potential.
Unfortunately, someone
helped him on his way
down by encouraging
a cover of "Happy
Together" in that ever-
happening trip-hop
style! Pardon me if my
ippreciation of the song
as marred by its use in
;al advertising during
my youth, but I'm really not
keen on this. The b-side, a remix
of his song "Strange Intervention," isn't half bad, but really
might only be about 52% good.
All the elements of a synth-
dance-funk-fest are present, but
I'm just not feelin' it. (Ubiquity,
PO Box 192104, San Francisco,
CA 94119 USA)
Let's look at more good
stuff, how about. Here's where
my instinct is telling me "no!"
but I'm enjoying it anyways:
Around the Block" single. Hype
aside, I'm praising the Boy for
the same sort of thing. This single is very good. Sure, I never
paid attention to the dude until
I saw his clever video on TV,
but it can't be helped if I fit into
the easily-herded
public every now and again.
But on to the music. There are
two excellent pop songs on this
single, and one very nice instrumental with a twangy,
Morricone-western feel to it.
Both pop songs are on the full-
length album, but "The
Shining," on the flip, is a remix
of sorts. BDB's sweet acoustic
tune has had a haphazard beat
thrown under it and some
weird sound washes and distortions thrown atop. If you've
never heard the original, you'll
love it. Check this. (XL
Recordings, find it in stores or
on the net at www.xl-record-
HEFNER'S another who
grates on the nerves of some
and endears itself instantly to
others. After a bit of effort, I've
come to appreciate Hefner's
skewed lyrics and nasal voice.
On a split single with
band or real?), "Half a Life" is a
beautiful song thanking some
higher power for giving him his
sweetie. Hit me with the mush
and I'm all about it. Damn. The
Murray the Hump song, "The
House that Used to be a Ship,"
is a very upbeat pop song filled
with funny, nonsensical lyrics
and cute bubble noises. Just
what everyone wants, no? It's
like you're in a submarine with
The Beatles, but you're not
really. Heh. (Too Pure, again,
ought to be easily attainable. If
not,  go  to  their  website  at
Not done, but nearly. THE
MOONBABIES are wussy, but
maybe in a good way. If their
four-song single was a two-
song single, I might like them
quite a bit. The trouble with
this band, a four-piece with
Scandinavian names but no
liner notes, is that it just doesn't
rock out enough. Hints at the
end of "Slowmono" show the
band's potential for a bit of
dynamic exploration, but most
of what we get on this release is
a meandering, soft, fairly harmonious pop outing. It's good,
but not remarkable stuff.
(Duckweed Records, 2442 NW
Market St. #354, Seattle, WA
98107 USA)
Ah... out of time as Guided
By Voices hits the turntable,
and thankful for it. As much as
Pollard turns people's cranks,
he don't do mine. "Chasing
Heather Crazy" is better than
anything off the last album, but
I'm afraid I can't comment on
the elusive b-side, as it's hella-
warped and made my mom's
record player start freaking out.
Seeing as how I don't want to
destroy a second parental player, I will call this column
quitsville. •
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we also have a 2000 sq. ft. studio available for
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contact Tricia Middleton at 872.8337
hours of operation:
11 am to 6 pm
Monday to Saturday
Lowest ot the Low not appearing
Available from The Weakerthans
Available from The Lowest of the Low
g7welcomingcommittee.com lowestofthelow.com MINT RECORDS
(Slave Labor Press)
Am I the only one who finds it
kind of depressing listening to
XFM repackage and re-saturate
our lives with the music of my
adolescence? (Here I was trying
to forget my grunge years.) We're
quite fortunate to have Doug
Slack, or no one would ever know
that my generation had any sense
of humour. SLACKER was one of
the first comics I got into before
my comic addiction became full
blown. It was alternative, and I
could totally relate to it. It was my
new Archie. (Yes, Archie. I liked
the dynamics. I liked the goofi-
ness. I liked the simplicity. But
you know, I could never relate.
My life wasn't even remotely
close to that of the citizens of
Riverdale.) Randy and his crew
on the other hand were all too
familiar. The series started in '93
and spanned 18 issues. It was the
tale of Randy the angry little
grunge puppy, his buddies Wak,
Hotdog Boy, Mitch, and the cute
goth girl next door, Patricia.
Every so often you're treated to
some Doug Slack interludes, like
how, while Slack was working on
Slacker #1, Kurt Cobain had the
o die. Or how the
are always late because of his
demanding cat. He also features
two ushers who won't stop arguing over who would win in a
fight, a monkey or a chicken, and
of course tons of tales of jobs gone
horribly wrong.
Randy was my teen dream:
"He's the youth of the '90s, angry,
raw, and grungy. Ouch, just looking at him you can feel the rage."
"I haven't showered in a week, do
I smell like teen spirit?" "Posers!"
spits Randy. He was in love, but
she ran off with his best friend
and turned him into a cold, bitter
shell of a man who "was into
'them' long before they sold out!"
Slack's parody of early-'90s
youth culture is valuable because
it recognizes the absurdity of it
all. For example, Patricia likes
They Might Be Giants. Randy
thinks "They Might Be Posers."
After suffering through "Particle
Man," he snaps. He loses it, yelling
"Must purge my head of this
happy shit! I need to hear something angry!" then "Head like a
Hole" explodes through the panel.
The series progressed nicely
until the end—except that there
the final grad issue, but it never
saw the light of day. So annoying
'cause there was a lot of stuff
going on in those pages. Randy
was failing. Patricia and Randy
were embroiled in a torrid love
affair. Insecure and innocent—
you remember teen love. What
else? Mitch went wigger. Randy
forsook the flannel jeans-ensemble for a more hard core goth
look. Black, black, black, he was,
"Randy the post-punk industrial
little skinny puppy." But he was
still Randy.
All this was my life. I glared,
I stomped, I bemoaned. I was
completely misunderstood and
full of rage. This was my teen
comic. The art is functional but
full of character. People literally
jump off the page. It's simple and
distinctive, but you recognize
these guys. You went to school
with them. You got drunk, skipped
school, hung out at the mall, and
went out with some of them. To
this day I will never forget how
excited I was when after months
and months of searching I found
issue #7, the all-important "when
Randy and Patricia first make
out" issue. I cheered, I jumped for
joy. I was far too excited. Randy
will always hold a place near and
dear to me. Slacker was one of the
first alternative comics I read that
was aimed directly at me. I
laughed, I cried, and I just had to
Something strange has
happened this month—
Vancouver Special has
been deluged by non-Vancouver
CDs. Blame New Music West,
but my desk is buried, and it's
time to clear out some of these
From somewhere in Alberta,
there's RAYOVAQ, who play
slow, pretty, and mopey
indiepop with girl vocals on this
5-song EP, Tendency to Sway.
Find out more about them at
www-raypvaq.com or www,
Virginia Beach, Virginia, score
points for knowing when not to
use an apostrophe (their CD is
called The Pendulum Demos, from
P-Noize Records, www.silver-
scene.com). for playing a more
energetic brand of girl-fronted,
sweet,  quirky  indie-pop  that
rock territory and sometimes
reminds me of Heavenly. They
also play a song called "The Real
Jesus" that doesn't seem at all
religious, which has to count for
Rocket, independent, www.kate-
schrock.com) is also from a faraway place: South Bristol,
Maine. She's a piano-playing
singer-songwriter, with a voice
that falls somewhere between
Sarah McLachlan (in an uncharacteristically rockin' mood) and
Heart's Nancy Wilson. This is
very earnest stuff, with
Hammond organ, guitars, horns,
and even the occasional accordion bit. Alas, the lyrics are
often, er, unlyrical, such as "I'll
stay on the east coast/And try to
live this lifestyle," from a song
called "Mission Beach."
Alpha Street Records,
www.fontanelles.com). who hail
from game show capital
Burbank, California, are a little
harder to pin down. Their
female vocalist, who sings seven
of the ten songs here, occasionally has a perky, sneering tone
reminiscent of Gwen Stefani,
but also has moments when her
voice gets close to the low cool
qualities of Coal's Nicole. The
music is even more eclectic, variously post-glam, post-space
rock, post-punk (a very clean
strain of post-punk), and post-
country flavoured slick indie-
rock. And then one song, sung
by the male vocalist, is just plain
psychobilly. Hmmm...
Closer to home, youngish
but experienced Victoria native
DAVID GOGO {Halfway to
Memphis, Cordova Bay/Ragged
Pup Records, www.david-
gogo.org) shows those other
whippersnappers a thing or two,
playing real-life blazing blues
with a confident and proficient
band (which also includes a
Hammond organ). Gogo's got
the guitar chops, the required
gravelly voice, and originals that
hold up nicely next to covers of
the likes of Muddy Waters,
James Brown, John Lee Hooker,
and Willie Dixon. The loud, fast,
and tight arrangements and
straight-ahead, clean recording
don't hurt either. •
Janis McKenzie
Tne Bright Side^
THE EVAPORATORS "Honk the Horn" 7" 4 songs plus an interview
schnippet: Nardwuar Vs. Tommy Lee (a Nardwuar/Mint co-release!)
TENNESSEE TWIN "These Thoughts Are Occupied" 7" debut release
by Allison Irom Bralmobile's twin sister Cindy's country project
NEW TOWN ANIMALS s/t 7" their Mint debut
IU-1  K-@WMvV200l
_-y->*Mennr»M-M*resTVLWWGARTH! -
Duotong « Itennesee*
Rock n' Roll
Friday, March 23
Church of Pointless Hysteria
I remember the first time I heard
Neil Eustache read. Well, he didn't read exactly. He stared at us
with glittering, disdainful eyes
and told poems of slime and
blood encounters in hotels and
alleys around Main Street. He
radiated a frightening cool.
Those being the good old days
just before journalists started
wanking all over the Downtown
Eastside, Eustache was never
hauled into any slum du jour
movement, but drifted in and
out of town, eventually disappearing. Turns out the man had
gone north to live in some cabin
in the wilderness.
Recently, he announced that
he was ready to perform again,
so Church custodians, Kendrick
James    and    Joel    Snowden
ed a
d things off with
through a thick cloud of mist
from a malfunctioning smoke
machine. Gradually, I became
aware of a heckler coming
through the smoke off left. It was
Eustache, who engaged in some
verbal   sparring   with   James
before eventually taking his
place at the tiny, lamp-lit table. It
was the best choreographed
segue between poets that I've
ever seen. Asking for a light for
his cig (which quietly put the
kosh on the smoke-free status of
the upstairs room), he told us
stories of life in the woods, his
neighbours, and about almost
dying when his heart clapped
out. So gentle this time. Even
when he told us that the Indians
had died for our sins (fucking
brilliant), it was with a warm
After a short break, the
focus had shifted 90 degrees to
the alcove in front of the window where Trixie's Undersea
Adventure sat framed by black
curtains. The act consists of
Nicole Hurtubise and her accordion—both of which hypnotized
us. She doesn't try to sing pretty,
but her songs are wild and beautiful. I think she only played
about four different chords, but
they were the right ones, stretching and moaning behind her
haunting lyrics. Near the end of
her set, the fireworks started
going off from CM Place, and it
sounded like the city was being
bombed. Sickly blue light from
the street came through the window as she sang about friends
dying and dirty children going
missing. You couldn't hire special effects that perfect.
Then Eustache was back at
the other end of the room—this
time with his band and some
serious packets of wisdom. I
noticed Ida from The Beans on
keyboards. Didn't recognize per-
sound had an overall Beans-y
feel. Things were grooving along
when Neil suddenly stopped to
introduce the evening's special
guest, The Teen Dazzler. Sam
(real name) was no teen himself,
so I imagined that his moniker
meant he dazzled teens or something. Sam displayed a remarkable inability to get a song
underway, taking several "short
breaks" during the intro to the
first one and finally tumbling
into a charmingly pathetic cover
of "Little Green Apples." I was
wondering if maybe the evening
was starting to fall away in
chunks when he closed his short
set with a number about fucking
a schoolgirl up the bum and all
the bodily excretions that would
entail. It was filthy, disgusting,
shoddily performed and altogether hilarious. We laughed
The good-sized crowd hadn't
thinned any, and when Eustache
returned with a big bottle of
vodka, he passed it round before
taking the stage with it. Screams
began to replace words as he
drained the bottle. The band
hung on, sliding into some nicely choppy versions of jazz standards. After a while, I didn't
need the screaming any more, so
I left with Neil's shrieks bouncing down the stairs after me and
the evening folding back on
itself as I recalled fragments of
James' opening poem: "...A hint
of infinite complexity, it has no
real point... hysteria lies between
madness and satisfaction, genius
and boredom."
Tuesday, March 27
Wheee... a toilet circus. It was
advertised on a bleary little
black and white poster spied on
Broadway in the rain. I had to
The great thing about performance which falls outside the
conventional theatre set up is
how the atmosphere in the space
can contribute to the whole
experience. That's why cabaret,
site events, and of course circus
can be so mysteriously exciting.
You're through the looking glass
the tr
;r the vi
The hall was warm and
dark, except for fairy lights twinkling up on the balconies as we
sat at small, candle-lit tables
below the stage with its silver
curtain. A girl sashayed around
in her underwear selling popcorn in brown bags. It felt like
we were in a supper club run by
children. When the show opened
with an overture played by a
cross-dresser on musical saw, it
boded well for the evening.
Like much of the new circus,
this production was a hybrid.
Written and directed by the company (Priscilla Costa, Jonny
Flash, HoFF and Marc
Kolbucar), it told the story of
three wage slaves in a bar and
their struggles with a sleazy
boss—and used as many of the
troupe's skills as the dear old
WISE could allow (no fire, no
aerial acts). What we got was
essentially a play, which erupted
frequently and gleefully into juggling, belly-dancing, clowning,
mime and copulating sea monkeys, etc. The performers were
also cross-cast as their characters' fantasy alter egos, giving a
sweet credibility to the shifts into
circusiness as they all dreamed of
a life beyond the tawdry bar.
At times, the play itself felt a
bit like an afterthought—
neglected in the general enthusiasm for big-top mayhem.
Fortunately, Kolbucar anchored
things in the acting department
with his solid performance as
the boss, Mister Diddles. He also
showed a talent for physical
comedy, melting away like a
wicked witch in Oz as he
lamented to the whinging strains
of the saw.
Flash really distinguished
himself in the circus numbers,
hinting at some serious skill as
he cavorted acrobatically and
juggled everything he could get
his hands on. The most wonder-
; near the end,
when the put-upon barmaid and
the fly girl appeared as angels of
death and brought Diddles to
judgement while the bartender
(Flash) rode across the hall on a
9-foot unicycle as the Grim
Reaper, robes flapping. It was
eerie, magical, and sighworthy.
For some reason, it also made
me want to start flying around
the room like a bat.
Guest appearances by Jason
of Terminal City Side Show and
Ryan the escape artist weren't
actually threaded into the story,
but gave an injection of bad-
dream vaudeville with bondage
asphyxiations and faces grinding into beds of glass.
I look forward to the next
time that Cirque du Toilet comes
out to play.
The estimable Veda Hille plays
a fundraiser for Radix Theatre at
the Railway Club on Friday, May
18. If you are already a fan of
Radix's nourishing strangeness,
you'll know what a good cause
this is. Upcoming projects include
"Bewildered" at Dancing on the
Edge in July and "The Secret Life
of Sniffy the Rat," an avant
garde musical comedy staged on
a tour bus during November's
Performance Art Biennial. If all
you care about is an evening of
fine music, you'll get that anyway from Hille, who will be performing with her Skilled and
Devoted Band. Last time I
checked, it wasn't certain
whether or not there would also
be infiltrations from Radix itself.
But I hope so. •
louder than
News reports of the recent
charges brought in
Belgian courts against a
group of people (two Catholic
nuns, a university professor, and
an aide to the former prime minister) implicated in the 1994
Rwandan genocide almost universally include a note that
Belgium has apologized for its
"failure to do more to prevent
the slaughter when Belgian officials had reported before the
killings that political turmoil in
Rwanda—which has a long history of Hutu-Tutsi rivalry—was
setting the stage for a blood
bath." The reports focus on the
desire to see justice done and
those responsible for the murders punished. These reports,
however, always seem to miss a
few crucial details that expose a
different motivation: shedding
colonial guilt.
Let's start with the central
element in the conflict: the "long
history of Hutu-Tutsi rivalry."
No one in the Western media
seems to mention or be aware of
the fact that "Hutu" and "Tutsi"
as they exist today were somewhat arbitrary ethnic categorizations made by the Belgians in
colonial times. Nor do they clarify that the conflict stems from
anger and competition centred
on relations with and ti
by colonial authorities. The
Belgian government is no doubt
aware of this. Furthermore,
Belgium's shared responsibility
for the massacres was highlighted when it came out (thanks to
that poor wreck of a man Gen.
Romeo Dallaire) that Belgium,
along with the US, France,
Canada, Britain—all of whom
speak ad nauseum about protecting human rights—was among
the UN powers that had foreknowledge of the situation, yet
bowed to US pressure (based on
their fear of another Somalia)
and pulled it's troops back shortly after the killings began. This
conflict, the seeds of which were
sown by European colonialism,
which the Belgian government
(and its UN allies) lacked the
political will to help prevent, and
which resulted in the deaths of
around a million people, is no
doubt a serious source of societal
guilt, as is the obvious betrayal of
the specific individuals whom
Belgian troops were directly
assigned to protect once the
killings started. Imagine these
individuals watching Belgian
troops leaving the compounds
they were supposed to protect
(by helicopter and armoured car)
while trucks full of bloodthirsty
militia circled, guns and machetes
in hand, taunting the remaining
civilians with their impending
grisly deaths. Actually, you don't
have to imagine it. CBC television filmed a documentary on
Rwanda which featured footage
of exactly this.
In the end, this is what it
comes down to: a million people
died horrendously and millions
more survived in suffering
(because of a conflict originally
fostered by a colonial government) in a series of massacres
that were anticipated by most of
the Western "democracies"
(including the original colonial
power) and yet still happened
because no nation was willing to
take the risk of losing a single
soldier or spending a few million
dollars to avert one of the greatest human tragedies ever. I obviously don't excuse the actual
perpetrators for their actions. Far
from it: in my mind they deserve
far worse than the harshest punishments anyone could inflict on
them. This said, however, the
question remains: is this trial
about finding the culprits or is it
about making sure that someone
other than the Belgian government (and other Western states) is
held ultimately responsible for
one of the worst acts of terror in
history? • &M\P
Frankie Sparo is no ordinary fellow. The first time I encountered him
was as I was walking along the streets of downtown Victoria. He
was dressed in a skinny suit and tie and a beaten up old fedora on
his head. He was like Duckie from Pretty In Pink. Next I saw him
play at a now-dead coffeehouse, sitting under dim lights and crooning into an old microphone, duping the crowd into twinkling misery
with his cigarette-addled, cast-away vocals and sleepy, wobbering,
achingly paced guitar. It was all a wonderful, desolation-tinged
haze. All was forgotten until a few years later I happened upon the
Constellation website and saw that a little fellow named Frankie
Sparo was about to release an album entitled My Red Scare. The
music was just as I had remembered it. The following is the email
conversation I had with Frankie Sparo. And yes, now we are best
friends and loving penpals.
Dear Frankie Sparo,
Hello. The following are some questions that I
hope you will enjoy, and subsequently
answer. The results will be published in a
neivsprint magazine entitled DiSCORDER,
from Vancouver, British Columbia. Nozv 1
have never met you, so I am unsure of
whether or not you will appreciate the
following questions. I'm taking a chance on
life and hoping you will. 1 am interested in
both your music and who you are. Please feel
free to be as candid or as guarded as you darn
ivell please. Also I really like your album.
Sincerely, Lyndsay Sung
Hello Lyndsay,
Thank you for the note. Here's the interview. Maybe a little more
candid or guarded than you were expecting, but I'm what you
might call a difficult interview. Took the liberty of re-arranging the
questions a little for continuity of answers. Other maybe pertinent
lead-in info: just returned from European tour with A Silver Mount
Zion, did some recording there which will be released as EP on
Constellation this fall, recording next full-length imminently. As for
some of my answers, please don't be personally offended, I truly do
appreciate that you contacted me of your own accord and am glad
you like the record. Keep well.
DiSCORDER: Is Frankie Sparo your real name?
Frankie Sparo: Not really.
Why Montreal? How did you hook up with Constellation Records?
I never had any clear picture of what was going on in Montreal, but
I was sort of fixated on it for a while, an imagined version of it.
Places can be like that. Then one day a letter came from my friend
saying, "I'm living above a bakery in Montreal, and it's miserable
hot, and why don't you come out." And I had nothing to do,
so I packed some things, and a few weeks later I was living here.
This was three years ago, when Don and Ian (who run Constellation) were having shows at their loft. We were introduced,
they invited me to play there, and one thing led to another. I guess
it turned out that my idea of the place, it wasn't the whole city,
but it was there and it had people in it. Only it was like a ghost
city. But in the real city.
Please name the one song in the world
that makes you want to throw yourself
on the ground and dance like nothing
else matters on earth.
Fine. Let's say "Mongoloid" by Devo.
Out of all the films in the world which
film would you say sums up your music?
Now that's just impossible. When I was
making this record, though, I was
thinking about La Notte. Antonioni made
pictures that seemed like they were shot
entirely in slow motion, with this
unsettling dream realism. I get an
enormous lot out of movies, but none of
them sum anything up for me.
I've read reviews about you here and
there. You have been compared to the
likes of Bill Callahan of Smog and Tom Waits. Talk to us about
"influences," musical and otherwise.
Well, I'd like to, but instead I'm thinking, "What the hell are Bill
Callahan of Smog and Tom Waits doing in a question about my
influences?" And I'm thinking about how every jerk with a
microphone in front of him gets compared to Tom bloody Waits,
which should make me feel better maybe, but it truly doesn't. And
it occurs to me that influences inspire an artist to work, whereas
comparisons allow a music reviewer to not do any work whatsoever.
Which is irritating. So now I'm irritated and on a tangent about the
state of music criticism, which should pay rent in my mind for the
amount of time I have to spend hating it. If there were more good
music critics, would there be less bad music? And I'm wondering
what's the point of five sentence record reviews, what is the point,
and how did this uselessness become the accepted standard and
whether Spin Magazine has anything to do with it. And then I
think—this thought actually ENTERS MY MIND—"is blaming Spin
Magazine passe?" Positively sickening I tell you, all day long
thinking like this, sometimes I wish I could paint instead.
If you were an animal what animal would you be? If you were a
fruit, what kind of fruit would you be and why?
For christsakes. Come on.
Please write a haiku about My Red Scare.
I'd rather not.
Do you appreciate a stranger asking you such questions?
Listen, this whole process drains me cold. Like the fellow said, it's
like drawing legs on a picture of a snake. I've a mind to not do
interviews at all, but then you start seeing things cropping up
willy-nilly about yourself like "media strategy" or "stand-offish."
God forbid. What a drag. I mean of course I appreciate you taking
time out of your day to want to talk to me. I even sort of admire
your bizarre carefree whimsy, but do we have to be inane? If we're
really going to do this, if we're going to make our little albums and
write our little articles, can't we start trying for something? What
else is in this magazine, for instance? Who ARE these people? Let's
drop the puff pieces. Let's ease up a bit on the glowing reviews of
worthless garbage and leave what goddamn Nelly Furtado eats for
breakfast to Rolling Stone, can we please? Or just don't bother.
I really can't imagine what you expect to find out from me with
these questions. Unless you're trying to build some kind of psychological profile. Which would be kind of creepy, frankly.
When I say "celebrate life" you think (please fill in the blank).
Cheque, please. •
JULY 1999-MAY 2001
Ms. Barbara Andersen, aka,        "^1
DiSCORDER Editrix, aka The Human
Dictionary, aka, Goth Undercover,
is off to the land of burning computers and insufferable pedantry.
Thank you, Barbara for your
visionary, migraine causing genius
Go to sleep.
Love from the DiSCORDER staff.
projektor make intense, dark and dynamic music, an impressive and
inspiring live group, rwg is the band's stunning debut cd. members of
kittens, meatrack, and leaderhouse.
members of duotang, transonic, etc. create blissful, literate and energetic lounge pop. "magnetic and magnificent debut disc" - wpg sun
"a DIY force of noisy pop/rock from Norway. Epicure is not only an
exhilarating trip, it's a work of immense beauty" - erasing clouds
, members of townies and smart went crazy creating blissful bedroom
pop "it's soft and supple, counter-melodious and wickedly full, eternally mellow and a natural progression of pop to pop" - ace weekly
MICO (8:30)
9 EfK§2a£3S What a delight  t
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CA's second great
■st  SOI
. Kevin
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I Ihe ,
reat pop
hand Of Montreal. His delu
of pop craftsmanship will e,
his word-, will stimulate not
ite blend
.and my
incredible queslioi
S will
put you
over the top. Of Mot
trail ui
to play in May, hoot
nted to
frequent    the   g
-ity   of
Kevin Barnes: We
er been
We're delighted
to ha
ve you.
being old. So ma
kids are all gath
iy sto
you  as
ies, the
and you're tellir
g them your
Thank you.
I guess there re
question in there.
lly isn't any
Where do you
get your inspirati
all those twists, having all those key changes to keep it interesting.
How populated is Kindercore Records right now? There seems
to be quite an influx of new artists.
I talked to the guys at Kindercore about it. [I said,) "Wouldn't it be a
better idea if you had four or five bands to concentrate on all year?"
They're saying, "Part of the fun of having labels is putting out a
variety of stuff and being involved in a bunch of different genres."
Are you a fan of Sean O'Hagen's work in the High Llamas?
Oh yeah, definitely.
Is he a big influence?
No, but he's influenced by the same things I'm influenced by.
Did you produce your album yourself?
Oh yeah. We always record our records at home.
Nice studio?
Yeah. It's been building. For each album we get an album advance
that we put into the studio. Our first record was not very good 'cause
we only had 3000 dollars. With this one we put a lot more into [it|,
and also we are learning how to do it each time a little bit better.
Any odd interviews?
We did an interview for Canadian radio. They were interviewing us
about our names. They were under the impression that all our
records were tributes to this experience that I had in Montreal. And
they were like, "So you've written five albums about that girl in
Montreal. How does that make you feel?" And I said, "Well, I wrote
that one record, and that's about it."
You seem to be a big fan of the Dixieland, the show tunes, the
vaudeville. Is that something that you were brought up with
No, but my grandpa got me into it. I'm a fan of Edward Gorey.
You are the master of the melody.
I've never heard anyone twist a
melody into the shapes that you
do. How do you go about it?
I try writing songs with tons and
Yeah, I noticed.
His style of writing appeals to me.
Do you always use the same cover artist?
It's my brother that does it.
So you're the music guy and your brother's in the arts.
How prolific do you think you are? You're like Robert Pollard.
No. I'm not that prolific. I try to write a couple of songs a month,
and by the time a new album comes out I have about an album and
a half's worth of new material, so it doesn't take us so long to put
out a record.
Fair enough. Do you like it when people overanalyze your songs?
It's fun.
Is "Happy Little Bumble Bee" actually about a happy little
bumble bee?
You're kidding! That's great!
Never? Is there a reason?
I just don't think I'm smart enough.
Me neither. I've been there. We just got this album of four-track
demos. What did Dustin Hoffman ever do to you?
That was just an impulsive decision. It's been so long since we
thought about any of those songs. We totally forgot the titles. We
thought it would be fun having a concept album about Dustin
Hoffman. •
Check out Of Montreal with Summer Hymns and Ashley Park at
the Starfish Room on May 8.
'At-so fTAT<JP«NG U«f*Tri Mississippi A*->--sTAf*s." Keiji Haino:
All Noisy At the Western Front
by Luke Meat
I've been putting off writing
this article on Keiji Haino for
about a month now simply
because I don't know where to
begin. He is frankly the most
astonishingly prolific and
important musician in the
underground Japanese psychedelic and noise scenes, even
though no one, either here or
there, has heard of him. And
much to my amazement and
delight, Keiji Haino is performing at the Western Front on May
15, so I thought I'd give the
potentially interested a bit of a
Keiji Haino's musical career
began in the late '60s, and like
many other Japanese musicians
who were heavily influenced by
the psychedelic sounds coming
out of the West, he wasn't
actually taking part in the drug-
taking that was associated with
the sound. Many Japanese
bands' aim was to produce a
psychedelic experience through
the music alone—Haino himself
is resolutely anti-drug, probably
due to the harsh penalties handed out to offenders in Japan. His
first endeavor was the Albert
Ayler-influenced ensemble,
Lost Araaff, which existed
through the first three years of
the '70s. Their most memorable
performance was at the 1971
Genyasai festival, held near the
building site of the new international airport in Narita, which
was a protest against the
government's appropriation of
land from local farmers.
Although Haino is revered as a
godfather of that early scene, he
has stated that those '60s groups
(namely The Dynamites, The
Golden Cups, The Mops and
Rallizes) were not true psychedelia. That being said, he has
also asserted that High Rise,
Gaseneta and Musica Transonic_
are "real" Japanese psychedelic
rock, even though most of the
latter bands emerged in the
early '90s. At least no one can
accuse him of living in the past.
Most of Keiji Haino's solo
work revolves around vocals
and guitar, the vocals resulting
from an extensive study of
Chinese breathing and the
guitar from listening to
waaayyy too much Blue Cheer.
The Book of 'Eterniny Set Aflame'
is a great introduction to his
solo work: three tracks, all
varying in levels of harsh electronics, guttural screaming, and
droning bliss. For those with
stronger eardrums, check out
Execration That Accept To
Knoiuledge, a 45-minute-plus
onslaught of electric guitar
(without the help of effects) and
vocals that are simply terrifying—they sound like they come
from behind, causing you to
leap out of your chair.
What Keiji Haino is probably best known for is his
power-combo Fushitsusha.
Fushitsusha can make one a
little bit more aware of how
much Blue Cheer has affected
this Japanese axe-wielder. I can
only think of about eight releases off the top of my head, and
that's nowhere near their actual
catalog. It's important to note
that Haino has never referred to
his music as "noise." That being
said, however, Fushitsusha's
dense volume oversaturation,
mixed with Haino's maniacal
wailing, comes across as-you
guessed it—noisy! One of my
favorite Fushitsusha releases is
Withdrawe, this sable Disclosure
ere devot'd. As translator Alan
Cummings states in the liner
notes, "We eventually came to
the compromise of using
Elizabethan-style grammar,
spelling and diction. Within
those parameters, I believe that
the  title "makes grammatical
it obvious that
nited English.
sense and communicates what
Keiji wants to say." And what
does he want to say exactly?
Well, the only interviews I've
read have made i
Haino has very li
When asked about
"fushitsusha" meant, he
responded (to one interviewer):
"Too difficult... but it is a happy
word." When asked about what
"lyrics" he sings, Haino
responded, "It's easy to sing,
Another instrument that
Haino utilizes is the hurdy-
gurdy. Check out So, Black is
Myself on Montreal's Alien8
Records and prepare to be
exposed to some of the most
ambient music this side of Eno,
although not nearly as peaceful.
His approach is to relax the
listener into a state of restful
lucidity, before jarring them out
with unearthly waitings. This
ain't no Donovan song.
I don't know what to expect
at the Western Front on May 15,
but I do know that immediately
afterward he's hooking up with
Thurston Moore to play
the Festival International
de Musique Actuelle in
Victoriaville, Quebec, which
sounds noisy to me. For the
brave listeners among you, I
urge you not to miss this show.
Come on—it's $15 for a night of
something you're definitely not
going to see every day in the
City of No Fun. •
As a footnote, a terrific resource
for parties interested in exploring
Japanoise is Paul Collett's exceptional website (which 1 have to tliankfor
much of the information contained
in this article):
"The <<?C^i±oEL full-on audio attack draws an eclectic mix of additional
musicians into the fold, including Miho Hatori, Jamie Hewlett, Del Tha Funky
Homosapien, Tina Frantz, Damon Albarn and Ibrahim Ferrer and is produced
by Dan me Automator." tkebe   ieikl   aie    the   Lamb i
I'm ready to take on two punks with attitude. The members of
Jerk with a Bomb are so damn hardcore that they don't even go
by their real names, choosing instead to be known as The Silo
and One Easy Skag. Theirs is a world of mystery and mayhem.
Intimidating, no?
No. These skinny white boys make no attempt to spit on my tape
recorder or skirt my questions in typical punk rock fashion. They
smile. They're friendly. That confuses some people. What's up with
the punk rock name, a name which conjures up images of
pipebombs and revolution, of stickin' it to the man and running
away with a malicious grin? Yeah. Punk rock. Or do things manifest
themselves differently in this day and age? They must, because Jerk
with a Bomb is still punk as all get out, even though its members
eschew the grump and smelliness for a different look. No white
belts, though. These boys may wash their hair in the morning, but
they damn well don't style it.
At the very get-go The Silo and One Easy Skag let me know their
top-secret names are pretty, well, not secret. Seems as though this
band's all about bad jokes gone on too long, things never liked but
never straightened out. There were never plans for a concept album
or a costumed stage show. It looks as though Josh and Steve were
just fooling around, heading for good times, and they bumped up on
some goofy names to help them along. Maybe it's thanks to the
secret names that Steve's parents don't even know he's in a band, or
that the two remain penniless and poor, constantly overlooked by
SOCAN no matter how often their songs get spun on the radio.
"We didn't want it!" says Josh of Canada's dirty music money.
JWAB is not a commercial endeavor. That's punk for you. But then
again... money is a good thing. It helps bands tour and eat at the
same time. It helps fund new recordings and records. It gets you
ladies (not that JWAB are into that). Too bright to let a good thing
pass them by, Josh and Steve are eager to learn how to manipulate
the government to grab some of its magical musical funding. "We're
drawing up a proposal as we speak," Josh assures me. He feels that
the way FACTOR dishes out dough is a bit strange, as I'm sure we all
do. How do so many crappy bands net the funding?
"Unlike Canada Council, which is set up to fund art, artists,
poets, writers—stuff that doesn't generate money—FACTOR is an
industry association, set up primarily to help bands that they feel
have a chance of being commercially viable." Jerk with a Bomb doesn't strike me as a very commercial outfit, and the boys know it. Their
chances with the Canada Council are slimmer, as it prefers "difficult" music. Asked whether JWAB could make "difficult" music,
Steve assures me that what they're doing is "very difficult." Josh
does play drums, keyboards, and sings at the same time...
A suggestion to advance into multimedia garners an enthusiastic response. A friend, Christophe, and his video projections are
already slated to join the upcoming tour, and the band believes this
will spice up the live show considerably. They're already prepping to
incorporate this new medium—the search for white outfits is on.
This new look will help the films' on-stage projection, while also propelling the band into a new community.
"Hopefully the no-wave community will pick up on the fact that
we have purchased white suits and will start booking us accordingly," jokes Josh. The fact of the matter is that Jerk with a Bomb will
play with anyone. The boys assure me they'll take any shows they're
given. The band's first tour was a 10-week affair which apparently
featured more nights at rest than rocking out, and there are hopes of
avoiding that route this time out. Of this tour, Steve says, "It's five
weeks, we get to go different places than last time, like Kentucky,
Colorado, Utah." Josh is pleased about the dates in the Prairies, an
area the band overlooked last time around. Things are going to be
1 can't tell if the band's looking for more or less confrontation on
this tour. Both members eagerly relate the tale of a near-dangerous
encounter with a marine in Detroit who didn't like their look and
was hoping to start some trouble. A band that describes itself as
sporting the "Fist magnet" and "Milquetoast" look doesn't really The new album is
all about "more
whiskey and less
d o o b s . "
stand a chance against America's finest, but it sounds as though Josh
and Steve are up for the challenge of a brawl or two.
Oscillating now towards a kinder, gentler take on the band-
both members are active within their community, picking up litter,
handing out cigarettes (sorry, Steve, you'll be swamped at your next
show!) and eagerly playing benefits like the Patti Party on St.
Patrick's Day at Ms. T's. The benefit was meant to help local photography zine Patti receive wider exposure on the Van City front and
make a bit of cash to help with upcoming issues. The party was a
success, the band played a strong headlining set, and everyone who
arrived early enough got a very tasty cupcake at the door. Yum!
Speaking of yum, Josh recently appeared in a Patti swimsuit layout, but Steve didn't make the cut. Once again, he suspects it has
something to do with his "look." Josh is rumoured to be the brawn
and the brains behind Jerk with a Bomb. Steve's willing to concede
as long as listeners are able to overlook the fact that he plays guitar
and sings all the songs. Of Josh, Steve says, "He leads the beat,"
which is pretty much as good as being in charge, I think. Josh says
that spearheading this project, alongside his duties to Radio Berlin,
is "a burden at times," but he seems to love what he does.
Are solo projects in the works? Doubtful. With the new record,
The Old Noise, about to be released on CD and LP by Scratch and
Ghosts and Alarm respectively, and tour plans shaping up nicely,
this duo is set to rocket to the top and stay buddies all the while.
Jerk with a Bomb's first record, Death to False Metal, hit hard at campus/community radio stations all across our fine country. Punks like
them. Indie rockers like them. The CBC even likes them! A live performance for CBC's Radiosonic offered up a bit of coin and recognition. As much as playing around Vancouver has helped them
establish a solid name for themselves, it's obvious that there are still
people out there who need to receive the good music. Josh says that
people in Montreal and Toronto have been enthusiastic about the
band's slow, stripped-down stylings, and ideally this new release
will help to build on the hype of the first record. The new record's
been a long time coming, and anyone who's seen the band perform
around town within the last year or so has undoubtedly already
heard more than a smattering of the tracks from the new record.
Recorded at the Hive, the album was completed a year ago,
using the little studio's ever-growing wealth of tape machines and
specialized gear to shape an album whose sound is, well, much the
same as the first. Jerk with a Bomb's focus remains on heart-wrenching, slow country movers slightly warped by the sun of something
new; a stripped down, genuine reworking of gaudy and golden
Placing a new spin on old attitudes is also in the works for Josh
and Steve. The new album is all about "more whiskey and less
doobs," according to the duo. Thanks to less in-session toking, the
songs now sound "a little less token," which means that Steve's got
a firm grip on this style he's commandeered, and Josh is ready to
back him up.
When I asked whether anyone had ever asked them to change
the band name, I got a better answer than I could have possibly
hoped for, as it does seem an unlikely fit with the sound that they
produce. Steve's response? "No, but we've asked each other to
change it. We just never got around to it." Josh agrees, adding, "We
didn't do it in time, and now we're stuck with it. We have found,
when we go places, that people are a bit surprised. They expect us to
sound a little more like NOFX." Josh is smiling throughout this declaration.
And so, lacking the potential for radio and world domination,
Jerk with a Bomb is ready to take on our city and beyond with a new
release and an adventurous tour itinerary. Hopefully people will sit
up and take notice, be they punks, rockers, no-wavers, alt. countrymen, or just plain old music fans. Jerk with a Bomb are ready to bend
their unique musical style around your ears, and you should all
count yourselves lucky. •
13 L^ggmmz 14 MAY 2001 is nM&umm My domestic situation could accept any number of adjectives: normal, rare, absurd, pathetic, but these are the
facts: I live in the same house that welcomed me home
on the day I was born, and save only for a couple of stints abroad, 1
always have.
From my living room I can see a spot of grey on the building, in
fact a chunk of the very classroom in which I spent the inaugural
year of my entire elementary school education. It's right there. But it
would be telling you everything to tell you that I no longer know the
janitor's name.
Still, this slice of earth, with its acres of forest and trails, has
played host to some of my most memorable life events, both as a
cocksure little ankle-biter and mirthful adolescent puke: concussion-
inducing double front flips (first two-wheeler), lunchtime introductions to porn via collections temporarily liberated from the
nightstands of neighbourhood fathers, intoxicating and intoxicated
police chases during Halloween fireworks mayhem, not to mention
the countless hours of reprieve spent lying on skateboards, facing
the sky, swatting away mosquitoes and bullshitting another summer evening into silence and sparkling stars.
But for years now, my only relationship with the pulse of this
neighbourhood has been an aural one—the same schoolyard din
that is the schoolyard din of schoolyards everywhere has been no
less than the soundtrack for my life in this house. Screams: recess.
Silence: math class. Screams: lunch. Yip-slap-smack-ching: ball
hockey in the tennis court. Accompanying my activities here have
always been the sounds of children at play.
While the sounds of screaming kids just released from the riveting worlds of Louis Rieland long division have remained the comfortable fixtures they ought to be, a gradual transformation in the
off-hours noise of the neighbourhood has nonetheless been occurring at a steady and unsettling pace, but like many important things,
it took a solitary, unusual event to make me aware of what I already
I noticed that every morning, beginning at exactly 8:49:33 My
Computer Time, I would hear the distant sound of classical music,
the unmistakable lilt of that peppy little number chosen to herald
the beginning of another episode of Masterpiece Theatre. As il
shut op
and listen
n the a
ital. I poked my head o
an Armani suit, but it w?
hours. My head turned, i
on the building I could si
It's been said that mi
al practice, but in this cat
esy, but the articulation
it became difficult to di:
seemed to last for about 10 minul
from? I envisioned one of my n
hired power-broking dynamo wl
inducing regime of guts and glo
sonic parcel apt to put a mannert
precisely when it stopped
S. Where the fuck was this (
ighbours as some kind of
but it
t the window for a peek at jumping jacks in
asn't coming from either one of my neigh-
i dazed disbelief, towards the spot of grey
B from my living room.
;ic will presage important shifts in cultur-
■, the arrow points to the past: not proph-
vhich gathers up the disparate pieces of
discreet events and suggests a unified form.
Years ago I remember noticing that much of the after-hours
noise from the school grounds had slowly faded away into silence:
pre-teen daredevils stopped burning donuts into the gravel field
with their dirtbikes, middle school kids stopped drinking their half-
sacks of Lucky Lager and their resultant vandalism, and little pyro-
maniacs stopped blowing up their GI Joe figures—the random,
jarring firecracker explosions which used to precede Halloween by
some two months. These noises—loud, disruptive, sporadic—were
the sounds of adolescent transgression, and their disappearance
from the soundscape of this neighbourhood has been next to total.
The pace of this disappearance has been eerily concurrent with
the pace of domestication on the school grounds themselves. On
what probably amounts to my annual stroll around the school, it
raphy. Where there used to
be dusty dirt hills now sit
asphalt walkways that
channel into fences and
flowerbeds. Black mud has
since become concrete,
gravel, or the best symbol
of this pulverizing will for
order, bark mulch.
The silence from the
adolescent hoodlums first
Jl n ft       suggested it: where geog-
1 H "        raphy    is    transformed,
5 r_ Q J J domesticated, tamed, so is
the consciousness of its
inhabitants. The battalion
of feeble little legs which
used to run uselessly from
older brothers setting to
chuck you and your
friends in the bushes on the way home from school, now only
marches as far as the appropriate unit in the cavalcade of SUVs
which consistently surround the perimeter of the school grounds at
the end of each day. Vroom. "Taylor!" Slam. There was a time when
I would still hear periodically the brouhaha of infantile taunt and
protest only to look out the window to catch the aftermath of the
launch: some poor twerp, somehow always in brown cords, awkwardly wading his way out of my juniper. No more. Listen, and you
will hear only car tires on the rainy pavement hiss out ridiculous
destinations as they peel away from the convoy.
Youth has been automated. Listen to their sound: scheduled,
monotone, static, insensate.
It's no mystery that the origins of the loudspeaker, and its musical voice demarcating the start of the day, rest in the regime of the
military camp. What precedes and follows this call is the sound of
sanctioned movement.
Every morning, this music—the sonic incarnation of a modernist, technological will for order—floods over the school grounds,
weaves through the limbs of trees and over the black dirt to herald
the beginning of another day of school, but it signals more than this:
the victory of itself. •
FREE 18" Smoother vinyl remixes when you purchase a copy of
"Chasing The Dragon" for a limited time only, while supplies last.
_^StownVgneoWn55^mour St. 687-5837 / South Vancouver: 732 SW Marine Drive 321 -5 ll 2
Vancouver; 3433 E. Hastings St. 298-0464 / Burnaby: 4568 Kingsway 439-0223 Surrey: 10280 135th. St. 589-7500 /Abbotsford: 2369 McCollum Rd. 859-4200 AN EMAIL INTERPRETATION OF
A hare, painted by Hiroshi Kimura, stands on his hind tegs before an
enormous full moon on the cover ofAiko Shimada's Blue Marble.
Hares and rabbits are particularly interesting animals. Their symbolic import, tliough obviously variable from culture to culture, is complex and
loaded. For me, the cover of Shimada's fifth release evokes chocolate Easter bunnies, Alice in Wonderland, stuffed playthings, and afeiu other cartoony or
childish images. However, the most pressing association this picture makes for
me is with the 1973 UK cult film The Wicker Man. For those of you ivho
haven't seen it, I won't give away the plot, but hares signify large in the story
as pagan emblems of fertility and rebirth.
In Japanese mythology, rabbit spirits make their home in the moon, where
they pound out sticky rice cakes with mallets. The markings on the surface of
the full moon shoiv, to the Japanese imagination, not a face (as I ivas taught to
see as a child) but a rabbit. Shimada, currently based in Seattle, plays with
these alternating and intersecting mythologies in the pace and tenor of her
music, which is simultaneously dreamlike and solid. Blue Marble's sound is
grounded in the contrast betzveen the light shades of her pure, clear, eminently controlled voice and tlte darkness of her backing band's subtle and often sad
atmospherics. Listening to the album (released on John Zorn's Tzadik label
and produced by bandmates Eyvind Kang and Evan Schiller), I'm struck with
gratitude that my two montlts living in the Japanese countryside didn't provide me with anything close to proficiency in the language. The few words I
recognize jump up like frogs out of quiet, impenetrable ponds, leaving the rest
of Shimada's prose beautifully theoretical.
DiSCORDER: You've been active in Seattle as a musician for several
years now and seem to have played a lot of "folk" or "roots" related
shows and showcases. Do you consider yourself a "folk" artist?
Aiko Shimada: I tend to jus! think ol myself as a guitarist/singer/songwriter. With the group I-have (myself on electric guitar these days,
trumpeter, drummer and upright bassist), people don't put me in the
"folk" categorization anymore. But when I was doing solo or duo acts
playing acousts guitar, more .people put me in the folk category. I think
it's funny that people have to talk about genre of music as much as they
do. I'm playing the same music, but depending on who I play with, or
even where I play, people's perception changes.
How did this current band come together?
I put ads in the paper to look for people to play with when we first
moved to Seattle eight years ago. But then, as I started playing
around town, different musicians started to tell me that if I needed
an accompaniment, they would be available. I also went to check
out music in town and began meeting different musicians who were
very open minded. That's how I met people in my group (Dave
Carter on trumpet, Mark Collins on upright bass, Eric Eagle on
drums and David Brogan on percussion). Although I had already
seen him play, I didn't know Dave Carter personally but met him
through my songwriter friend who knew him well. My friend
thought his playing would fit perfectly in my music. She was right!
Mark Collins is my husband, and we've been playing together since
I started to play in Oregon. Eric Eagle was a housemate of Steve
Moore (trombonist/keyboardist, who played in my last CD, Another
Full Moon) who used to be in our group. I met the drummer/percussionist David Brogan when my friend Timothy Young's band
backed me up when I was still doing solo acts several years ago. All
of them are jazz musicians—they have a background in jazz but listen to a broad range of music and don't want to play i
jazz all the time.
You used to be a jazz DJ at a college radio station. What is your
current relationship to jazz?
I listen to jazz less now just because there is so much other stuff to
listen to. But I still love jazz very much.
Your first three releases were put out by Bera Records. Is this your
own label?
Yes. I self-released them because nobody was interested in putting them
out. Also, I think of CDs as records of what I have done, instead of products. Of course it would be nice if I can sell them and make enough to
at least break even. But I released them on my own to say, "This is what
I've done so far!"
How did you find yourself on the Tzadik label?
I like "experimental music" even though I don't really do it myself.
So I knew all about Tzadik. One day, my musician friend in Seattle
loaned my second CD, Window, to his friend in New York. The New
York friend liked it, and noticed that my friend Eyvind Kang was on
the CD. Eyvind had done some records with Tzadik by then (he had
played and toured with musicians like Bill Frisell and Beck).
Anyway, this guy went to John Zorn's show and asked [Zorn] if he
had heard of me. Zorn said no, but when he found out that I collaborated with Eyvind, he said he was interested in hearing my music.
Window was a very simple, stark, and more "folk"-oriented CD, and
I wasn't going to send it to him. But then, I thought "Why not? I've
known Zorn's music and what he's done. I should just send it to
him not to expect anything, but just to share my music with him." I
sent it to him, and a week later he faxed me a letter with the offer of
the project.
The first, fifth, and ninth songs on Blue Marble are all subtitled
"Morning." Can you explain your motivation for this?
The actual song "Morning" is found at the very end of track nine.
The first track has the same music, but I sang the words super slow
(Eyvind's idea). Track five is a vocals-only track and features some
of the vocal harmonies (without words) I sang in the song. We just
took everything out, and used the harmony vocals only. Eyvind felt
that "Morning" was the theme song of this record, and he wanted to
put it throughout the CD, but in a way that people wouldn't easily
figure out.
This is a song about one particular morning. I woke up in the
state of dream-like feeling and saw these incredible rays coming in
from a window and noticed the light was so magical and beautiful.
It's a song about how miracles are actually everywhere. Eyvind's
idea turned out to be perfect for me because the first song, "Mezame
(Morning part one)" means "waking." The second version, "Hikari
(Morning part two)" means "light" or "ray." And the last one, "Asa
(Morning part three)" means "Morning." And this sequence fit the
experience I had.
The Victory Review wrote that you're obsessed with the moon.
Yes, everyone thinks I am. I can't help it. Though, recently someone
told me that I do have a very strong relationship with the moon
astrologically. So here is the reason for it, I guess. I like night. When
things quiet down, I can think better. And when I notice, there is
always the moon floating in the sky, whether it's full or not. It is the
closest thing we know in the sky, and it always reminds me that we
are in the vast sea of universe. I love the sensation of this feeling
because it takes my little daily worries away from me.
Blue Marble is the first record of yours I've heard. Have you always
employed such diverse instrumentation (strings, tape loops,
unorthodox percussion, etc.)?
No. This is the first time for me to have more electronic instruments. Eyvind wanted to be creative with the sound while he made
sure to retain my personal sound. This is also the first time that I
was able to work on a record by not worrying about time. The co-
producer/engineer, Evan Schiller (Sadhappy's drummer), agreed
to do the project with a flat fee. So we had unlimited time to work
on this CD. Because of this, we were able to try all kinds of things.
Basically all the ideas came from these two producers (they also
made sure to ask me what I wanted to hear), and they asked me if
I liked what I heard each time they came up with different ideas.
Do you always sing in Japanese?
I usually always sing in English, though, I always did one Japanese
song on each record. These days, I sing 30-40 % of the songs in
Japanese when I do a show.
Sound was a Japan-only release. Nobody knows me there, and
the label is small, so it's hard to market it, and therefore, not many
people know that the CD exists. But I got a few good reviews by
Japanese reviewers.
Who is Hiroshi Kimura, the artist who did the cover art for Blue
Marble? What was the idea behind this image—which I find very
evocative—of the rabbit?
He is my friend. He used to live in Seattle, but moved to New York
several years ago. He does paintings that are super realistic and
very strange at the same time, pretty dark. I love the way he paints,
and I asked him if he would draw this image. I drew the image
with a pencil and sent it to him, and he did the magic. There is no
one specific idea behind it. When I thought of the cover, that was
the image I had in my head. There is a song in the CD called "Busy-
Rabbit." The busy rabbit is me. I was born in the year of rabbit. And
there is an old Japanese traditional song called "Rabbit Rabbit." It
goes, "Rabbit, Rabbit, What do you see when you jump? I see a full
moon when I jump." I actually used the lyrics at the end of this
song. People in Japan say they can see a profile of a rabbit on the
moon, and there is a saying that rabbits live on the moon, and they
work busily to pound rice to make mochi, the rice cake. Anyway,
the song is about myself being distracted by many things and
always being busy. It is my hope to someday become a peaceful,
spiritual person, and this song is sort of a wish song.
I want to add something here. I wanted to say that the project
(making of Blue Marble) was such a learning experience. I never
thought of having someone produce my music. I always produced
my own CDs. But when John Zom assigned Eyvind as a producer, I
had no problem in having someone else produce it. I have to say
Eyvind is someone I admire the most as a musician. I also feel that he
is one of the very few people who really hears my music. He didn't
change the personality of my music. Instead, he used what I had and
emphasized those elements to expand the intention of my music. •
Blue Marble (Tzadik, 2001)
Sound (East Works Entertainment 2000)
Another Full Moon (Bera, 2000)
Window (Bera, 1998)
Bright And Dark (Bera, 1996)
Movement A, Study
Ho  hum.   More  so-so  po-mo
heave-ho from the worldwide
Vaguely   Experimental   Music
underground.  This  split  disc
comes courtesy of the Sulfur/
Sulphur  label  run  by   Robin
Rimbaud   (aka   Scanner).   As
with all Scanner products,  it
comes    weighted    down    by
rhetoric ("...breaking the mould,
dissolving expectations...") that
the flimsy musical contents can't
support. Needless to say, my
expectations were not dissolved.
The first half of the CD features a piece by composing newcomer David Abir. It's a
pleasant enough slice of post-
minimalist ambience which
sounds not unlike a very long
Spiritualized B-side.
The second half of the programme is filled by Ashley
Wales of fair-to-middling "intelligent drum 'n' bass" duo Spring
Heel Jack. His "Landscape" is as
tediously predictable as its title
None of this music is really
bad, as such. It's just that if you
really want to hear this kind of
thing, you'd be better off going
back to one of Eno's original
ambient recordings from the
'70s. That these musicians are
attempting to recapture the
magic of those classic releases is
hardly more admirable than trying to recreate, say, "Tommorow
Never Knows."
And if it's cutting-edge,
grass-roots experimentalism
you're after, pick up something
by Fennesz or Kim Cascone.
Leave this shit on the shelf.
Sam Macklin
(Honest Don's)
Hold on, that voice sounds
familiar. Hey, that's the guy from
Lagwagon, those wholly un-cool
purveyors of what's often called
mall-punk. Bad Astronaut
appears to be the side project of
Lagwagon vocalist Joey Cape.
"Well," you say to yourself,
"bands on Fat Wreck Chords like
Lagwagon suck and aren't cool,
so Bad Astronaut isn't cool and
probably sucks hard." Well, I
say, fuck that and fuck you. No
matter how many stupid jocks
and Top 40 kids sport their
shirts, or how many times they
play that pseudo-punk corporate
extravaganza the Warped Tour, I
still like Lagwagon. By default I
guess that means I like Bad
Astronaut because there's just no
escaping that lead singer's wonderful trademark whiny voice.
His new band plays a catchy
brand of pop-rock that sounds
like a cross between Lagwagon
and Elvis Costello, with maybe
a touch of The Smiths and also
some Elton John thrown in (vague
enough?). It's mall-punk with
feelings. And English pop influence. Among heavier things,
"Acrophobe" features soft
acoustic numbers, piano playing, and an Elliott Smith cover.
Cape manages to demonstrate a
talent for diversity, and his lyric-
writing is still very witty and
dark. The production on this
record is sometimes way too
slick, yet Bad Astronaut still
makes me smile. But hey, I liked
Ease Doivn the Road
(Palace Music/Drag City)
Carrying on in the direction set
by its precursor, / See a Darkness,
this new album is Will
Oldham's most refined and
accessible work to date. True to
its title, this record is less dreary
(with the exception of "Sheep")
than much of his past work and
finds him heading in a more
laid-back, country-porch-sing-along direction. A large host of
singers and players come along
for the ride, including long time
Palace associates (David Pajo,
brothers Paul and Ned Oldham)
as well as new ones (such as
Cathy Irwin of Freakwater). The
more fleshed-out arrangements
lend a slightly pastoral tone to
the album. The lyrics, as usual,
find Will mining the darker, gritty undersides of relationships,
but this time around they are
tempered with references to
"wives," "making love," and
"brides and grooms." Strangely,
Will seems happy. If you're looking for some stark, sparse Will
Oldham then this album's sweetness may be too much to take,
but if you ever found yourself
singing along with "Ohio River
Boat Song" but were put off by
Wills sometimes overwrought,
pained singing style, then this
may just be the Will Oldham
record you've been waiting for.
Moses Lawn
Call and Response
From the Athens, Georgia label
that introduced the world to
"twee" comes a fresh un-twee
sound from this San Francisco
quintet. Although not twee by
definition, Call and Response is
unthreatening and ready for
consumption by the college set.
Call and Response produce an
understated and sparse jazzy
pop with a definite Burt
Bacharach edge to it. This record
is sprinkled with musical references to The Jackson 5,
MoTown, insurgent country, and
Vegas-styled lounge jazz as well
as a knowingly served-up nod to
The Carpenters—via a wonderful facsimile of the late Karen
Carpenter's sweet voice and
noodley keyboard style. Three
girls and two boys stir this confection to a gooey and soppy
consistency and slop it out
warm. A good palate-cleanser to
the brash guitar rock which has
dominated the indie world for
such a long time. As good an
indication as anything that '70s
retro—in song or otherwise—is
hipper than ever. Now give me
another serving, because...
Mikey Likes It
WOWZA! This deep-fried
Southern combo of Blue Cheer-
meets-James Brown fanatics is
pointin' a double-drummin', double
barrel gun of MC5 madness
straight in your face—watch you
don't get caught in the blast!
Sharing with modern day kindred spirits like The Tight Bros
From Way Back When or even
The Quadrajets their love for
rock 'n' soul, The Cherry
Valence up it a notch with some
nods to late-'60s psychedelia
with tracks like "Take It Easy"
and the keyboard-drenched
"Action!" If the cut "Bootyshakin"'
doesn't make you do just that,
you must have soles of concrete,
my friend. Who better to smash
'em than The Cherry Valence.
Bryce Dunn
Daft Punk has captured the
fading earth tones of the '70s
slipping into the cool neon hues
of the early '80s as seen from
the flickering new edge of the
21st century. This is a record
that conjures the reification of
the sitcom and the past expansion of the blockbuster via the
retro urge of domesticated digital technology. I hear the theme
to WKRP in Cincinnati, the disco
remake of "Darth Vader's
Theme," and the pseudo-techno
classical pop of Falco all revved
up to pace the ebb and flow of
high-tech Western urbanism.
Although I may be right, I suspect I'm already not "getting
it." I'd say that this is not pastiche but a new whole, a bona
fide fresh form. Yet I can only
guess what that actually means.
And I'm not confident that Daft
Punk know either. And I can
definitely still see the existing
dance floor coming alive and
getting older bodies moving.
Except the life that will most
likely be supercharged by this
recording is youth. But I don't
mean youth just turning of age.
Rather I mean youth just starting kindergarten or younger.
While it's true that the generation born at the start of the '70s
may best identify with the basic
thematic sources of this recording, Discovery is not for them.
The true cultural energy that
this recording transmits invokes
the price of
progression LP/CD
SONG;.       FBBB,
I Ml,        J
songs from
the earth   L1VCD
Nitro Records is
distributed in Canada by
Scratch Distribution.
The Old Noise LP/CD
(Scratch # 35)
Breathtaking, tense, urgent,
focused yet loose new album
from the extra-limbed Vancouver
duo. Songs first, we all win.
Out Now!
In Meorm NA CD
(Scratch # 39)
Old-fi electronic defiant warm
squiggle and space from this
Kelowna duo (and one half of
French Paddleboat!), uneasing
and pleasing both. Out May 21st!
Been to the Scratch store lately?
Your independent music specialists are still at 726 Richards Street
(between Robson & Georgia) with a constant supply of new releases at good prices.
Been to the Scratch web site lately?
Our store is now online, with fun content added daily. Stop by
726 Richards Street, Vancouver, BC V6B 3A4 Canada
phone: 604.687.6355 (store)   604.687.0499 (distro/label)
18 MAY 2001 a new recognition that the aging
generation can only just faintly
grasp. In other words this is a
new recognition summed up by
the notion of postmodernity.
And I really mean it. It seems
like most typical commentary
on postmodernism fails to
understand how much this
appraisal is way in advance of a
significant historical shift just
taking hold. The signs are abundant, but the nitty-gritty transformation itself has only begun
to take place. It seems that
rather than greater self-consciousness and textual fluidity,
postmodernism instead describes
both a new form of aesthetic
unconsciousness and a substantial infrastructural renovation.
This interconnected transformation is not going to be felt by the
degree to which it is outwardly
recognized but by the degree to
which it recedes invisibly into
the imagination and is based in
everyday practices. The much-
ballyhooed negative energy of
the slipping centre is a reflex of
old ways and not a new
impulse at all. Of course this
doesn't mean we are simply
currently living through plain
old vanilla modernism. But our
present way of life hardly really
indicates what will actually be
the postmodern either. I reckon
that by the time the postmodern
fully arrives it will be thoroughly banal because it will be completely present. In the meantime
play this record for the
youngest person you know and
witness the awesome power of
SIT Sampler
(Cognition Audioworks)
For those of you who don't
know Mr. Duke, he has been one
of the leading international
online radio show hosts in cutting edge electronic music. His
show Cognition Audioworks,
which airs live on campus/community station CKDU out of
Halifax and syndicated around
the world, places Canada
squarely on the map as a hotbed
of innovation. It's about time us
northern artists shared some of
the limelight. This quirky release
that at times abuses my brain
with off-key filtered sounds and
Oval-esque pops, that moves
into the weird crunching metal
monster of synth keyboard perversion—well, people should be
turning more heads to see how
weird we are. We can be as cool
as anyone in, say, San Francisco
in the dementata musica genre.
Duke's digital manipulations are involved and complex.
Track two, "Crablike," actually
invoked a physical reaction at
higher volumes. I felt sick. But it
was good, oh so gooood. There
are some sorts of sounds, like
those currently found on mille
plateaux and within the
microsound genre, that are
designed to warp the neurochemicals in the head into configurations not intended by the
manufacturer. Such are these
tracks. Duke has been producing
since the '80s and this shows on
the production quality in tracks
like "chromosome" that project a
well-articulated pop-scale (as in
a "click" or a "pop") over a
Lustmord-ish synth howl. It's
like being up in the arctic in that
movie The Thing, but instead of
only one wolf running from the
helicopter there are thousands,
and all you can hear are the ice
crystals cracking. It's schizophrenic. Even more schizo is
"Doyalike," which moves into
'80s-ish electro-beats that never
pick up an '80s riff. You can see
the ice cream, but you can't have
it. There's a subtext of sadomasochism here.
This is a sampler (which
means that this material has not
been released yet), but Andrew
does have tracks and albums
coming out on Tiln, QDial,
Folding Cassette, NSCAD,
souRce and his own label,
Cognition Audioworks.
Tobias V
Put Out or Get Out
(Pink & Black)
I listened to this CD all day
today trying desperately to think
of something to say about it. You
see, the first couple of times I
liked it—in fact, I liked it a lot.
Then I put it in today and it
annoyed me. The lyrics are tepid
and at points stupid. These
chicks have shit to say, but like
so many new punk bands they
either do it poorly or choose
strange topics like "Rich Bitches
in Volvos." I understand, I hate
rich bitches in Volvos too (doesn't everyone?), but do they really
deserve a whole entire song?
Maybe I'm judging Fabulous
Disaster too harshly, but I could
n't help thinking that they've got
generic punk written all over
them. Way to go, girls! Way to
break into a male-dominated
scene by adopting safe, middling punk sty lings. The best
thing about this CD is the title. I
should mention that the very last
song on the CD (it may be a hidden track, I wasn't paying attention) is the best song on the album
and is, despite all my previous
harshness, worth listening to.
Group Sounds
From the opening chords of
"Straight American Slave" it
appears the dance party is back
on track! After a disappointing
showing with RFTC and a
healthy break while Interscope
cleaned house and the boys
searched for a new drummer, the
rejuvenated force behind the San
Diego six is alive and kicking.
The aforementioned tune bristles
with feverish anticipation that
any second your body will bust
a move and never look back.
Looking ahead is all they're
concerned with now, as a glance
over the lyrics of songs like
"Dead Seeds" ("bastard fire
burns clean no regrets"), and
"Spitting" ("wrap me in your
sins and numb me to the world/I
keep spitting harder") attests.
Feeling the need to experiment,
the band takes some chances on
"Carne Voodoo" and "Venom .
Venom," throwing in some
extended jams to close out the
songs. They also appear to be
taking influences from their ear
lier records and breathing new
life into them: "Dead Seeds"
(imagine "Ditchdigger" or
"Hairball Alley" from Circa
Now!), or "S.O.S." (A lost track
from Scream Dracula Scream, perhaps?), or "Savoir Faire" which
borrows a driving riff from "I
Drink Blood"(a compilation
track found on All Systems Go 2)
and fuses a berserk horn arrangement to fuel the fire. Thirteen
new testaments for a new rock
'n' roll bible as rewritten by
Rocket From The Crypt-
believe it baby!
Bryce Dunn
In Meorm NA
I don't know a damn thing about
Vote Robot. A search on the
internet didn't do much good,
except for a goofy liftle interview
with the same Vote Robot talking about how they used to be in
a straightedge hardcore band
called Youth Knights when they
were fourteen. But I guess the
point of music isn't exactly to
know the people, it's to know
music. And not know it in that
pretentious "You mean you
ROBOT BEFORE??" kind of
way. Music magic. Like Vote
Robot. Blippy frenetic static non-
songs with keyboard fuck-up
titles like "nnpl wry" and "mtae
iora" which may well be some
witty ironic anagrams, but who
the hell am I anyway? Nothin'.
Nobody. And In Meorm NA is a
good album too.
Lyndsay S
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The Best in
Music is on
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Chillcut SOQ1 >v.i
»The Ultimate Chiiiout
Includes tracks by Fatboy Slim,
Groove Armada, Deierium,
Supreme Beings of Leisure,
Dusted and many more.
Deierium n> Poem
The highly anticipated follow up
to Karma with guest vocals by
Leigh Nash from Sixpence None
The Richer, Matthew Sweet &
the Mediaeval Basbes.
Organic Audio »
Last Onq Home
Straight from the UK, a fusion
of funk dance music and
percussive rhythms from around
the world.
BT h
Movement in Stil! Life
Includes the singles "Smartbomb'',
"Never Gonna Come Back Down",
S. "Shame", as well as the club
smash "Dreaming".
DJ Tiesto »
Over 70 minutes of music mixed
by DJ Tiesto including Delerium's
international smash "Silence"
(DJ Tiesto's In Search of Sunrise
Plastic v.4 »
The latest in the series features
a rare mix of Moby's "Porcelain",
new music by Sasha and
Emerson, as well as tracks
from BT, Azzido Da Bass, The
Chemical Brothers, Brother
Brown, Trisco & more.
Autour de Lucie »
Faux Mouvement
Autour de Lucie will confound all
expectations, because Faux
Mouvement is one of the most
beautifully crafted albums to come
along in many a year—in any
language. It is a rigourously uncontrolled album, in response to
and apart from its predecessors.
Thursday, March 29
The Commodore
I used to have this fantasy
about The Residents, see. I
secretly hoped that, in their
non-anonymous non-performative personas, they were, well,
women. After all, any truly radical attempt to conceal identity
would have to tackle the most
basic identifier of all: gender.
Switching their audience's perceptions for 30 years would be
quite the feat indeed.
But from the second "they"
appeared on the Commodore's
stage, it was apparent to me
that The Residents' dress-up
games are just that. Who cares
"who" they really are? They're
boy creatures (and one guest
girl creature, who doesn't even
enjoy the privilege of anonymity) singing warped parodies
of boy-meets-girl songs.
Boyresident screamed into the
mic and played the saxophone.
Girlresident did a goofy little
hippie dance when she wasn't
singing backups. Oh my god,
how totally radical is that!
The concept behind Icky
Flix is as follows: a giant video
screen behind the perfoi
displays an "interactive menu"
featuring the titles of Residents
videos. The audience screams
out requests. (I suspect, however, that the playlist was predetermined and we only had
the illusion of choice.) Then the
band plays their "hits" while
the video is projected behind
them, making for an eerie performative scenario that made
me feel like I was watching
Citylimits (remember?) during a
high school assembly.
"Kick a Picnic" and
"Gingerbread Man" seemed to
be the psychedelic faves of the
reefer-damaged audience. My
own epiphany was a little different. When they started performing their cover of "It's A
Man's Man's Man's World," it
suddenly struck me that the
population inside the building
was about 90% male (including
the waitresses and barmaids). I
began to feel uncomfortable. I
remembered that when I was 12
and heard their version of this
James Brown standard for the
first time, I had been enraged,
thinking it an anti-feminist statement. But watching Girlresident
perform it, I felt a sublime
transformation take place.
Skinny and neon, she swooped
around the stage and switched
up the already ambiguous song
to perfection.
It's easy to credit the most
visible performer with the bril-
Tuesday, April 3
Grandview Legion
Ah, bless those bus drivers.
Nothing like a 90 minute walk
to pump one up for a rockin'
good time at the old punk rock
show. No, wait. That should
read fuck those bus drivers. The
walk does nothing of the sort.
But I digress.
Red  Light  Sting started
liance of a performance. Maybe
if she had been costumed like
the rest of the band (ie., in full-
body black wetsuits instead of a
miniskirt and belly-shirt) I
wouldn't be so instantly inclined
to say she saved the evening.
Think about it.
playing while most were still
being herded in the door and
up the stairs. That was just fine.
No gum in the auditorium, eh?
You'll have to pry it from my
cold dead hand! I didn't dislike
these North Van upstarts as
much as one particularly vocal
yokel, but dislike them I cer
tainly did. Maybe it's that I
don't like At the Drive-In. I
think it would be somewhat
safe to say Red Light Sting does.
If only a tiny, tiny bit.
Next was Small Brown
Bike. This was much better,
much more of a semblance to
music. Apt for the show, they
sound quite a bit like Hot Water
Music, only better. Up-tempo
post-hardcore sort of stuff.
More than capable. Not super
Leatherface are fucking
gods. I can't imagine why they
never headline their shows, but
perhaps a scant half-hour of
playing is their physical limit.
Yes, the moniker becomes more
and more ironic as Frankie
Stubbs ages. Restless, if not
energetic, he paced up and
down rather than flailing spas-
tically like the emo kids do. He
could play this shit in his sleep.
New stuff, old stuff, I can't tell
the difference. Great set (if
short), great band—the reason
everyone was there. No con-
Batting cleanup, Hot Water
Music. Outta Gainesville,
Florida, on the ever-expanding
Epitaph roster, they are a widely-known, quite popular band.
I don't get it. On CD, they have
never really grabbed me. Live,
they still haven't. All songs start
off fine, plenty energy, and fade
fast into breakdown after
lethargic breakdown. Their
whole set, observed Steve, was
one long breakdown. The heat
and humidity soared as we
lulled into a stupor by
drawn-out songs, dual vocalists
with identical, indistinct raspy
shouts, and no apparent time
constraints. Three times as long
as Leatherface, I swear.
Leatherface, man. Let's not
kid ourselves. Once they finished, I'd seen what needed seeing. Frankie ages by the second,
but he will never die. It's what
he does: plays guitar and
Trevor Fielding
Wednesday, April 4
Starfish Room
The room was pretty empty. I
mean for Jad Fair's first appearance in Vancouver in about four
years, it was REALLY empty-
about 20 people, tops. Chalk it
up to both the first few days of
the transit strike and to it being
a midweek show. These two
facts weren't going to spoil my
enjoyment of the artist
described by The Village Voice as
"kindergarten's answer to art
I got there fashionably late
and missed most of Capozzi
Park's set. I'd seen them quite a
few times and find their stage
presence lacking—even though
their recorded output (the Mark
stuff, especially) is pretty good.
Capozzi Park should have been
a perfect opening band.
However, my low expectations
weren't raised any further
when frontman Mark Szabo
started taking backhanded
shots at Fair and his tour open-
The buzz on Cousteau has been loud and long
from all over Europe. Now Palm is proud to
release their self-titled debut in Canada. Their
romantic, epic balladry has been compared to
David Bowie, Nick Cave, The Tindersticks, Scott
Walker and Burt Bacharach. Listen for yourself
and see why.
I     canada@palmpicture
'Cousteau craft tunes so beautiful,
so profoundly stricken, they make
a heartbreak yourself...
it should by all rights, be their
time... delicious." -       - NME
"Smouldering pop of astounding
Quality." - Select
"A remarkable debut."
- Independent on Sunday
"Cousteau's wide screen torch
songs are dark but delicious."
CD of the week - The Guardian ers, Adult Rodeo, in between
their last few songs. One word:
Adult Rodeo, a four-piece
from Fair's current hometown
of Austin, Texas, was up and
performing in short order and
had the 20-strong bobbing their
heads and tapping their feet in
no time. Their funk-heavy
arrangements of rock, punk,
blues, and country tunes even
had a handful of those 20-
strong up on the dance floor
bobbing their heads by about
three-quarters through their set.
The most conspicuous groover
was Fair himself, who, during
the punkier songs, was spazz-
ing like a little kid on too much
sugar. Adult Rodeo ended with
an epic country twang number
that featured haphazardly
wicked lap steel work by the
lead guitarist. That song bled
into a take-no-prisoners punk
thrash which left the crowd sufficiently primed—maybe too
primed—for Jad Fair's moment.
The first half of Fair's set
featured himself and his partner
alone on stage: Fair reciting spoken word prose and poetry
about "human zoos" and love
being like a boombox as his
techno geek sideman pulled
weird screeches and drum beats
out of a little black box. Fair gestured and recited seriously to
the audience—every now and
then speaking into a second distortion mic he held in his
palm—as if he were one of
those traveling preachers from
the turn of the (last) century,
preaching eternal hellfire for
sinners. However, the goofy
content of Fair's spoken word
spiel added a levity that simultaneously put you at ease and
made you wonder if he was one
brick shy. The spoken word
lasted about 20 minutes and
then Fair brought out the rest of
his "band," which, ironically
enough, was Adult Rodeo.
They immediately launched
into another half hour of
raunchy cowpunk and hard
pop tunes which featured Fair
yelling at the top of his lungs,
then speaking, while sitting in
front of the centre stage monitor. Sometimes he stood up to
ate a particularly raunchy number, but mostly he sat. As the set
drew to an end, Fair slid closer
to the end of the stage, until he
was finally dangling both feet
over the edge, looking as
though he might melt off the
stage into a puddle on the
Starfish's wooden dance floor.
The set ended as abruptly as it
began amid polite, but not raucous (unlike the music), cheering. Everyone went home
because they didn't want to
miss the last Skytrain. Well, I
didn't want to walk the 45 minutes home, so poo on you!
Believe me, Jad would've
defended me on this one—likely with some story about how
Tuesday, April 10
Ms. T's Cabaret
Kudos to the staff of Ms. T's for
being able to withstand a night
of eardrum shredding and to
the packed house for showing
up on a weeknight with next to
no promotion.
After telling my friend Ian
from Mercury The Winged
Messenger that I had missed
them and was going to write a
review for the gig, I joking
remarked that I would put in
the obligatory "showed up late
and missed the first band"
quote—so here 'tis! The alternate suggestion of "got too
drunk and missed the headlin-
er" unfortunately didn't apply.
Hopefully I'll get to catch you
guys before you decide to pack
The Witness Protection
Program were up next and
assaulted us with their disjointed post-rock. A little too much
time was spent tuning, but I
enjoyed the last couple of numbers 'cuz of the toe-tapping
appeal. San Diego's Tourettes
Lautrec surprised the heck out
of me—super cool B-52's-
meets-Red Aunts keyboard
rock. Love that Vox bass sound,
it really anchored the mix and
got a lot of heads bobbin'.
Then it was time for our
screamo buddies The Locust,
and is it just me, or did the
audience become just a tad
ridiculous with all the heckling?
I've read in interviews that
these San Diegans are notoriously confrontational, but honestly, it works better when the
heckling is semi-intelligent and
not semi-asinine. A circle pit
seemed to be the next best
thing, but the cozy confines
proved problematic to keeping
the band's sound intact. When
The Locust did erupt, it was
with lightning-fast distorto riffs
punctuated with sci-fi organ
breaks, stopping on a dime long
enough that the bassist could
introduce songs with absurd
titles like "Gluing Carpet To
Your Genitals Does Not Make
You A Cantaloupe." This is one
group who knows that if you
"get it," you're hanging on for
dear life, and if you don't,
you're choking on dust. For me,
the jury's still out.
Bryce Dunn
Thursday, April 12
Starfish Room
My favourite friend Tom
Peacock moved to the other
side of the country. His last
night in town was the same
night as this show. He's kind of
a bitch, always late, always
slow. I said I'd take him out to
dinner to say goodbye, so we
went to some restaurant with
televisions so we could watch
the hockey game. It was late. I
knew it was going to be an early
show. I feel bad if I say I'm
going to do something and
don't do it. I promised that I
was going to see the show. I ate
too fast and felt kind of sick. I
kept saying, "I have to go. I
have to go." Tom said, "No. No
you don't. C'mon. This is the
last night you'll ever see me."
Our friend Jaime said, "Who
cares? Just write a Low haiku." I
thought of my friend Gabby,
who also fled the country, leaving me with a farewell poem:
"Fast women lift lighters/
Albini's guitar glimmers/What
a Ponce!" That garbage just
makes me miss him, and I wasn't going to miss Low. I didn't
care really, it's just that I said I'd
go. They tried to convince me to
go upstairs to Brandi's, a classy
little strip joint. It would've
been nice to give Tom a lap
dance. No, no, I mean buy him
one, one with big boobs, like a
gift. He would've liked that. But
they wouldn't have let me into
the place. They have a dress
code and I look like a scum bag.
So I shook my head, put on my
coat, and said goodbye. No
need to drag it out. I walked out
the door and started running. I
don't know why. It's not that I
wanted to go to the show, I just
had to get out of there. It was
cold, too, and I was running
fast. You'd think I'd know the
streets of this town by now, but
I don't. I just kept running east,
like maybe if I ran fast enough,
I'd beat Tom's plane and meet
him at the airport in Quebec the
next day. I got to the club and
ran up the stairs. It was quiet,
like a Sunday morning in Utah.
It was in the middle of "Will the
Night," and my glasses started
fogging up. I peered through
the arms tangled around waists,
lips pressed against temples,
fingers knotted together, and I
could see the head of Zak
Sally's bass. I stared at the hollow of the T, and the aluminum
reflected the red and green
lights straight into my eyes.
They sang, So long, goodbye,
goodnight, and my face felt wet.
No, no I wasn't crying, I was
sweating from all that running,
and my eyes were just watering
from the aluminum glare. Then
the show ended. Tom's gone.
We lost the hockey game.
Christa Min
Friday, April 20
Ms. T's Cabaret
Near the end of the Evaporators'
set Nardwuar thanked us for
touching the sweat and grabbing the family jewels. I hadn't
grabbed his package, but with
that much crowdsurfing, someone was bound  to. Ms. T's
Cabaret was really really hot
inside. It made me sweat, but
even more importantly it made
the bands sweat. Most of all, it
made Nardwuar sweat. He kept
changing clothes and drenching
each outfit in turn, then he'd
crowdsurf, and I could feel the
slickness on my hands until I
wiped them on the guy in front
of me.
The drummer from The
Tonics sweated too. His black
shirt went from matte to glossy
over the course of the show. The
Tonics were like the mmm-
mmm-good   in   a   Nardwuar
sandwich, jammed like a cozy
four-piece of salami and cheese
between two hearty slices of
Goblins and Evaporators. They
sang about scooters and minis.
They were awesome, except for
the drunken guy in the black
hair 'n' jacket who kept on trying to mosh with me. But he
left, so it rocked.
Oh, and during Thee
Goblins' set, no one in the
crowd did the Tornado! You all
suck for not doing the Tornado!
Saturday, April 21
Seylynn Hall
There is nothing to do in North
Vancouver. Except skateboard.
And go to Seylynn Hall and
watch d.b.s. on the weekends.
Shows in the gym seem to be
happening less frequently than
they did in 1994. That was the
last time I went there.
They stamped my hand. I
remember when those used to
stain my skin, blue and purple,
layered like a bruise, and I
wouldn't wash my hands with
soap, and I'd draw fake tattoos
on my arms with inky pens, so
the blue would last forever. The
floor was as dirty as it was
seven years ago. Sticky and dull
from the mud of army boots.
They've added black lights
since then, but the sound is still
shitty. So I couldn't really tell
what Mr. Solid was singing. In
between songs, one of the boys
said something about a killer
whale. "I'll miss Bjossa. I
remember when she used to
lick the peanut butter off my
balls when I was nine years
old." Mr. Solid writes the kind
of punk songs that always have
a pause in the middle that's
long enough for them to jump,
but short enough to end before
they land.
I sat on the floor for part of
their set. I got up when I heard
some guy with a cape yell,
"Come closer! This is going to
be the best fucking shit you'll
ever hear!" Har Mar Superstar
was out of hand. Lots of songs
about wet spots, a brilliant one
minute Fiona Apple cover, and.
hot dance moves while he sang
along with a CD player. "Let's
hear it for me!" he yelled. Har
Mar (aka Sean Na Na) looks
like Danzig but fatter and
balder, maybe a little taller. [You
are insane—Ed.] He sings like
Keith Sweat.
The girls were starting to
swoon. But I swear they would've
let Atom take off their striped
tights with his teeth. But he
prefers the older, naturally-
coloured-hair type. Like Enya.
Still, the girls were so excited
that I kept getting hit in the eye
by flying mohawks. Atom's
right about a lot of things.
Death to gallons and miles.
Shame on the Cleveland
Indians. Hats off to Halford.
That's America.
We Hate Randall
"l"*i«5   lc«s   t-louse   •  Victoria.  B.C.
TMURSOAir W1>\V   IO,    ZZOOl
EX<TI_./V1I\/1I   presents      _
IpwesG of che raw
Vei-«:igo   •  Victoria  B.CZ.
ii™ ii:::: miii mm n
»om - 1055 Hon
Zulu,   Hicjhlife   IVI
■m/SI-low   S»:30F>n
Ff*ig>XKTT JUMSME »,   2€>€>1
Plus   Ga^es-fcs
Tfra«s   Starfish   Room - 1055 Homer Street
SUI\it><Air JUNE lQjr  2QOJ
US BOMBS *&&*&
,.,„. saga
Trie   Crandview   Legion
2205 Commercial Dr.
TIX   -\S   <&>   Scratch!,   Zulu,   Hi
&t   Noize.   E»oo»r«5..30F»m/:Shi ANTI-FLAG
naiiH May Long Vinyl
May Short Vinyl
May Indie Home Jobs
1 sadies
tremendous efforts
1 evaporators                honk the horn
1  emerald city
4 song demo
2 rocket from the cryp
group sounds
2 the exploders what's what & who's who
teenage usa
2 tennessee twin
oh darkness
3 black halos
the violent years
sub pop
3 new town animals      lose that girl
3 gray's anatomy
no chocolate for tyson
4 guided by voices
isolation drills
4 film school                          s/t
me too!
4 rheem ruud family
pong ping
5 kinski
be gentle with...
5 abbe                          elevator baby
5 nicely nicely
it's me, not yours
6 michie mee
don't wanna be your slave        koch
6 the shut-ups    haul off and smack your as
s                junk
6 victory gin
7 wagon Christ
ninja tune
7 the valentine killers       let it burn
7 triple word score
too far gone
8 oh susanna
sleepy little sailor
square dog
8 tuuli/travoltas                       s/t
8 joel
heart X 50' woman
9 les sequelles
et tant pis si cela...
9 automaton adventure series   s/t
galleon key
9 uneven steps
postcard from the depths of shame
10 new pornographers
mass romantic
10 riff randells       who says girls can't rock
10 the radio
cowgirl blues
11 talvin singh
11 removal                           1 of 10           removal all music
11  jumpstart
12 tijuana bibles
apartment wrestling
12 projektor                   double dragon
12 panty boy
sea hag
13 st. etienne
sub pop
13 zikzak                              anna li
13 dreamy angel
laundromatte queen
14 senor coconut
el gran baile           emperor norton
14 jello biafra              the green wedge  alternative tentacles
14 sleepy Junes
15 papillomas
when years were...
hub city
15 the peeps                        stiletto
15 spinoffs
don't stalk my sister
16 download
16 buddy bradley      the end of the day
cuckies tales
16 cardinals
walk don't run
17 ladytron
604                          emperor norton
17 lupine howl                       125
vinyl hiss
17 squares elite
around the capital
18 polygon window
surfing on sine waves             warp
18 the killingtons                     3ep
18 panacea
19 tipsy
19 alan sparhawk/charles atlas   split
star star stereo
19 mr plow
rock star
20 phantom 309
3000 crooked miles
20 red monkey               get uncivilised
20 bad apple
life is rough
21 pixies
complete b sides
22 creeper lagoon
take back the universe,
the live mix pt 2
. dreamworks
stones throw
23 breakestra
77^ 2w.    (—
24 yo la tengo
dan electro ep
25 hawksley workman
the delicious wolves
2>-.sW   ■>
26 ray condo
high and wild
'2,, ol. ves                        The monthly charts are compiled based
on the number of times a
27 saul duck
superstitious motorcades
u   Uckey                      CD/LP ("long vinyl")
7" ("short vinyl"), or
demo tape ("indie home
28 mad bombers society
a-tom-ic a-go-go
5   £t<, cheese                  j0bS"'
r     LtW                      month
£<cUt                          be rec
on CiTR's playlist was played by our djs during the previous
29 arab strap
the red thread
(ie, "May" charts reflect airplay over April), Weekly charts can
30 the bobbyteens
not so sweet
eived via e-mail. Send mail to "majordomo@unixg.ubc.ca"
31 ani difranco
revelling/reckoning  r
ghteous babe
7. dost                         with the command:
"subscribe citr-charts"»
32 black box recorder
the facts of life
8.    doa^
33 shuggie otis
inspiration information    luaka bop
34 be good tanyas
the blue horse
35 kiyoshi mizutani
ground fault
JO.+ke  "U, k.-^e
Wholesale Inquires call 250-537-0058
shampoo • pasta hats • apparel
Palm is proud to announce the re-launch of the
Quango label. The forward thinking global
grooves that scratched their way through
speakers from 1995 through 1997 are back.
The Quango catalogue of compilations and artist
albums are widely acknowledged as being ahead
of their time and included the first Kruder and
Dorfmeister EP and Talvin Singh's AN0KHA. Fast
forward to 2001 and a series of releases that
further push the notion of a global future sound.
Featuring tracks from a combination of now-
known (Jauanowa, Fila Brazilia, Tosca) and soon-
to-be known artists [The Funky Low
Kaidi Tatham), Quango continues t
leading edge of global culture.
9:00AM- 12:00PM   All of
sured by its art.
s the
the world. Ears open.
May     13:    Guest    composer
Jocelyn Morlock
May  27: Special guest Peter
3:00PM      Reggae   inna   all
styles and fashion.
3:00-5:00PM Real-cowshit-
alt. 5:00-6:00PM British pop
music from all decades.
SAINT TROPEZ alt. 5:00-
6:00PM    International   pop
Papanese,  French,  Swedish,
British, US, etc.), '60s soundtracks and lounge. Book your
jet set holiday now!
QUEER  FM     6:00-8:00PM
Dedicated to the gay, lesbii
bisexual, and transsexual cc
munities of Vancouver and
tened to by everyone. Lots ol
human interest features, back-
ground on current issues and
great music.
HELLO INDIA   8:00-9:00PM
GEETANJALI 9:00- 10:00PM
Geetanjali   features   a   wide
including classical music, both
Hindustani and Carnatic, popular music from Indian movies,
Ghazals, Bhajans, and also
Quawwalis, etc.
THE    SHOW 10:00PM-
12:00AM Strictly Hip-Hop-
Strictly Underground — Strictly
Vinyl. With your hosts Mr.
Rumble, Seanski, and J Swing
on the 1 & 2's.
12:00-2:00AM Time to wind
down? Lay back in the chill-out
room. Trance, house, and special guest DJs with hosts Decter
and Nasty.
FILL-IN 2:00-6:00AM
8:00AM Spanish rock, ska,
techno, and alternative music —
porque no todo en esta vida es
BROWNS   8:00-11:00AM
Your favourite brown-sters,
James    and    Peter,    offer    a
savoury blend of the familiar
and exotic in a blend of aural
delights! Tune in and enjoy
each weekly brown plate special. Instrumental, trance,
lounge, and ambience.
RAPIDLY alt. 11:00-
GIRLFOOD alt. 11:00-
PARTS   UNKNOWN    1:00-
interview with your host Chris.
DJ Hancunt is in training for
Olympic party athletics —soon
to be a gold medalist in drinking, drug taking, and reckless sex.
BLACK NOIZE alt. 3:00-
DJ Nat X still sez: "Fuck You, My
5:00PM Who will triumph?
Hardcore/punk from beyond
the grave.
6:00PM Join the sports dept.
for their coverage of the T-Birds
and some other goofiness, giveaways, and gab.
FILL-IN ah. 6:00-7:30PM
REEL   TO   REEL   alt.   6:00-
Movie reviews and criticism.
FILL-IN art. 6:30-7:30PM
BY THE WAY 7:30-9:00PM
I don't know what I'm up to
anymore. I play lots of odd
German electronix, some 7"s,
and a demo here and there.
Go figure.
12:00AM Vancouver's
longest running prime time jazz
program. Hosted by the ever-
suave Gavin Walker. Features
at 11.
May 7: Pleasure Bent, a very
rare album by some lesser
known but brilliant players on
the New York scene in the early
'60s. A fine quintet led by tenor
saxophonist/composer Roland
May 14: A birthday tribute to
one of the founders of jazz, the
great clarinetist/soprano saxophonist Sidney Bechet.
May 21: Pianist/composer
Andew Hill's first recording in
over 10 years, Dusk is heard
tonight and is on everybody's
May 28: The beat goes on even
though Gavin is away!
3:00AM Hosted by Trevor. It's
punk rock, baby! Gone from
the charts but not from our
hearts—thank fucking Christ.
Bluegrass, old-time music, and its
derivatives with Arthur and "The
Lovely Andrea" Berman.
WORLD HEAT 8:00-9:30AM
9:30-11:30AM Open your
ears and prepare for a shock!
A harmless note may make you
a fan! Hear the menacing
scourge that is Rock and Roll!
Deadlier than the most dangerous
criminal! <3raxcharm@home.com>
BLUE MONDAY ah. 11:30AM-
1:00PM  Vancouver's     only
program. Music to schtomp to,
hosted by Coreen.
alt. 11:30AM-1:00PM
2:00PM Music and poetry for
C.P.R. 2:00-3:30PM
10  |
I 12'"
ml Po 1 :
GJ—\ T
FAST,       ,
PARTS     V-
DL^LJ t-
EVIL VS. GOOD    [£u_
1     PULSES
ANOIZE        [^
I Rts
10,000 VOICES (Tk)
| 12*"
ON AIR       L^L
24 may 2001
Cf= conscious and funky • Ch= children's • Dc= dance/electronic • Ec= eclectic • Gi= goth/industrial • Hc= hardcore • Hh= hip hop
Hk= Hans Kloss • Jz= jazz • Lm= live music • Lo= lounge • Mt= metal • No= noise • Nw= Nardwuar • Po= pop • Pu= punk • Re= reggae • Rr= rock • Rts= roots
• Sk = ska »So= soul • Sp= sports • Tk= talk • Wo= world PROM QUEEN 3:30-4:30PM
4:30 (Last Tuesday of each
10,000    VOICES        5:00-
6:00PM Poetry, spoken word,
8:00PM Hardcore and punk
rock since 1989.
Radio Ellenikathiko) 8:00-
9:00PM Greek radio.
alt. 10:00PM-12:00AM
alt. 10:00PM-12:00 AM
Phat platter, slim chatter.
6:00AM Ambient, ethnic,
funk, pop, dance, punk, electronic, and unusual rock.
HOUR 6:00-7:00AM
7:00-9:00AM    Bringing you
from the Jungle Room with your
irreverent hosts Jack Velvet
and Nick The Greek. R&B,
disco, techno, soundtracks,
Americana, Latin jazz, news,
and gossip. A real gem!
10:00AM Japanese music
and talk.
10:00AM- 12:00PM Spike
panied by spotlights on local
ANOIZE 12:00-1:00PM Luke
Meat irritates and educates
through musical deconstruction.
Recommended for the strong.
THE SHAKE 1:00-2:00PM The
manatee is my spirit animal.
Me da I'agita.
3:00PM Zines are dead! Long
live the zine show! Bleek presents the underground press
with articles from zines from
around the world.
5:00PM "Eat, sleep, ride, listen to Motordaddy, repeat."
6:30PM Socio-political, envi-
ronmentally-activist news and
spoken word with some music
too. <rachelssong@lycos.com>
7:30-9:00PM sleater-kinney,
r fave
a few
it things. (First
Wednesday of every month.)
9:00PM Indie, new wave,
punk, noise, and other.
FOLK OASIS 9:00-10:30PM
Roots music for folkies and non-
folkies... bluegrass, singer-
songwriters,worldbeat, alt.
country and more. Not a
HAR 10:30PM-12:00AM
Let DJs Jindwa and Bindwa
immerse you in radioactive
Bhungra! "Chakkh de phutay."
HOUR       12:00-3:00AM
Mix    of    most    depressing,
unheard     and     unlistenable
8:00- 10:00 AM
SHOW 10:00-11:30AM
Two hours of non-stop children's entertainment including
views, and special guests with
your host Christina.
1:00PM From Tofino to
Gander, Baffin Island to
Portage La Prairie. The all-
Canadian soundtrack for your
midday snack!
2:00PM Crashing the boys'
club in the pit. Hard and fast,
heavy and slow. Listen to it,
baby (hardcore).
SHOW 2:00-3:00PM
Comix comix comix. Oh yeah,
and some music with Robin.
3:00-5:00PM On Hiatus!
Will the ladies return? Stay
LEGALLY HIP alt. 5:00-
5:00-6:00PM Viva la
Velorution! DJ Helmet Hair and
Chainbreaker Jane give you all
the   bike
d   and   even   cru
while     doing
7:30PM No Birkenstocks,
nothing politically correct. We
don't get paid so you're damn
right we have fun with it.
Hosted by Chris B.
HAIR 7:30-9:00PM The
best in roots rock V roll and
rhythm and blues from 1942-
1962 with your snappily-
attired host Gary Olsen.
RADIO     HELL 9:00-
11:00PM   Local muzak from
9. Live bandz from 10-11.
11:00PM- 1:00 AM
6:00AM Loops, layers, and
oddities. Naked phone staff.
Resident haitchc with guest DJs
and performers.
8:00AM With DJ Goulash.
10:00AM Trawling the trash
heap of over 50 years worth of
real rock V roll debris.
10:00AM- 12:00PM
Email requests to <djska__t@hot-
12:00-2:00PM DJ Splice,
A.V. Shack, and Promo bring
you a flipped up, freaked out,
full-on, funktified, sample heavy
beat-lain trip, focusing on anything with breakbeats.
HIGH ON GRASS 2.-00-3:30PM
3:30-5:00PM Please keep
on rawkin' in the free world
and have a good breakfast.
Rock on, Nardwuar and
Cleopatra Von Flufflestein.
6:00-9:00PM David "Love"
Jones brings you the best new
and old ja;
samba,  boss
Noah: technc
kick arouhol
l,   and  African
Dund the world.
Hosted   by  DJ
but also   some
-ibal, etc. Guest
DJs, interviews, retrospectives,
giveaways, and more.
HEAD 12:00-2:00AM
SHOW 2:00-6:00AM
Watch    this    space    as    the
Morning After Show hopefully
FILL-IN 6:00-8:00AM
8:00AM-12:00PM Studio
guests, new releases, British
jdy sketches
and    ticket
8-9AM:   African/World roots.
9AM-12PM: Celtic music and
Vancouver's only true metal
show; local demo tapes,
imports and other rarities.
Gerald Rattlehead, Dwain, and
Metal Ron do the damage.
CODE   BLUE   3:00-5:00PM
Dds  del
honks, blues, and blues roots
with your hosts Jim, Andy, and
8:00PM Extraordinary political research guaranteed to
make you think. Originally
broadcast on KFJC (Los
Angeles, CA).
SOUL TREE alt. 10:00-
1:00AM From doo-wop to hip
hop, from the electric to the
eclectic, host Michael Ingram
goes beyond the call of gospel
and takes soul music to the
nth degree.(Welcome back
PIPEDREAMS alt. 10:00-
1:00 AM
THE RED EYE alt. 1:00-
EARWAX alt. 1:00-4:30AM
"noiz terror mindfuck hardcore
ik/beatz   drop   dem
force with needlz on wax/my
chaos runs rampant when I free
da jazz..." Out—Guy Smiley
8:30AM Hardcore dancehall
reggae that will make your
mitochondria quake. Hosted by
listen to citr online!
www.citr.ca FRI APRIL 27
richard buckner, joel r I phelps@crocodile cafe (seaftle);dbs,
radio berlin, the coast, the silent treatment@starfish; the gimmicks, new town animals, the backstabbers@pic; here/there,
the seeming and the meaning@v'\deo in; drop fc>ody=aspha/l@blind-
ing light!!; bruno hubert trio@sugar refinery
rocket from the crypt, the explosion, (international) noise con-
spiracy@commodore; portrait/self portrait, the seeming and
the meaning //@video in; drop bocry=aspha//@bl ind ing light!!;
Jeff sulima's jazzmatic@sugar refinery
econoline crush,  godsmack,   kardinal  offishall@plaza of
nations;    reinke   and    henricks,    audio   topic@video    in;
covenant@richard's; Japanese independent super 8@blinding
light!!; kaizen@sugar refinery
henry dent and evelyn lau@el cocal restaurant; buck 65@sonar
amy sky@orpheum; the invisible men, the hate bombs@pic; the
mekons, joel r I phelps and the downer trio@graceland (seattle);
night v/s/ons@dv8; skater philosophy: 20 conversations for a
dollar, skafeshorfs@blinding light!!; ryan knighton book launch
(7pm), parallella jazz (10pm)@sugar refinery
old   97's@starfish   room;   rufus   wainwright,   tegan   and
sarah@richard's;   skater philosophy: 20 conversations for a
dollar, skateshorts@b\ ind ing light!!; cineworks filmmakers'
forum (7pm), human hi-lite reel (10pm)@sugar refinery
j mascis and the fog, love as laughter@richard's; ensemble sym-
posium@western front; the anathema project, anansi@ren-
dezvous tavern (seattle); meesoo lee video launch : bad hair
day at blinding light!!; lazy dog@sonar; battery opera@sugar
flogging molly@graceland (seattle, all ages); the paperboys,
old blind dogs, slainte mhath, carolyn mark@croatian cultural
centre; Crispin glover in fhe orkly kid, the beaver kid, and wild
goose@blinding light!!; suicidal tendencies, even rude,
wretch@starfish room; queer as folk 2@pacific cinematheque;
dj swamp@sonar; golden wedding band@sugar refinery
jets to brazil, the love scene@graceland (seattle, all-ages);
sharon shannon, the paperboys trio, linda mcrae@croation cultural centre; nordic trax presents inside w/lazy transmissions cd
release party@sonar; wild goose yourse/f^blinding light!!;
laura crema quartet@sugar refinery; suicidal tendencies@slam
city jam (pacific coliseum)
mirah, the sissies, dear nora, operation makeout, the skin-
jobs@ms. t's cabaret; dramatic express/ons@cultch; folk implosion, alaska, lou barlow@graceland (seattle); plan  10 from
outer space@blinding light!!; Jurassic 5@slam city jam (pacific
wagon chrisr@sonar
ashley park, marshmallow coast, of montreal@starfish; simon
preston@holy rosary cathedral; breaking ground towards an
empowered filipino community: filipino contributions to asian
heritage month@cultch;  i sold my soul on ebay@blinding light!!
idlewild, placebo@commodore; Jamie thinnes@l082 granville;
i sold my soul on ebay@blinding light!!; future of music festi-
val@sugar refinery
flybanger@richard's; dj skinluna, tl cowan, radical cheerleaders, submission hold@cultch; elle'ectricity feat, dj leanne, pay-
ton rule & jefreejon, unspoken, deep, mz. chevious, karine
zamor and kinetic step, dj binhex@sonar; byo8@blinding
26 may 2001
light!!; north of america, novillero, projektor, hot little rocket,
mico@ms. t's cabaret; future of music festival@sugar refinery
FRI 11
lowest of the low, the weakerthans, the waifs@commodore; kinnie starr and the handsome boyz 3, che chapter 1 27@cultch; the
royal grand prix , clover honey@railway; handsome boy modelling school feat, prince paul, dan the automator, a-trak@sonar;
women in music showcase feat, katrein, sarah cheevers, toupey
luft and the amalia band@mc's; queer as folk 2@pacific cinematheque; what these ashes wanfec/@blinding light!!; dr.
didg@starfish room; future of music festival@sugar refinery;
smugglers, duotang, new town animals, carolyn mark, tennessee
SAT 12
loudmouths, the hatchbacks, the pricks@pic; frank black and the
catholics@vogue; sunlikestar, morning maker, slocore, booti
dharma and monochrome@web cafe; portal@cultch; hinter-
land@purple onion; bombay one cd release party@sonar;
wretch, limestone, mr. underhill, strong like tractor, gravel@brick-
yard; queer as folk 2@pacific cinematheque; ?o,zoo! (the making of a fiction fi/mj@blinding light!!; salteens, Vancouver nights,
weights and measures, christine fellows, snailhouse@ms. t's
cabaret; future of music festival@sugar refinery
SUN 13
the come-ons(sftri)@pic;  deicide,  marduk,  gorguts,  all out
war@graceland (seattle, all-ages); the films of charles and ray
eames@blinding light!!
MON 14
badly drawn boy@commodore
TUE 15
mark knopfler@queen elizabeth theatre; autechre, rob hall, rus-
sell   haswell@sonar;   digital   underground@wettbar;   keiji
haino@western front; bocephus king homecoming show@rail-
way;     homenagem a baden powe//@blinding light!!
WED 16
homenagem a baden powe//@blinding light!!; rand
DREAD@RICHARD'S; big John bates, the dead cats, uncl<
harley@pic; the living end, tsunami bomb@starfish; John
korsrud's electric quinter@cellar; stereophonics@commodore; critters buggin, apes of wrath@purple onion; homenagem a baden
powe//@blinding light!!; dynamo productions feat, andy smith,
scott hendry@sonar; ranchfesr@sugar refinery
FRI 18
duncan sheik, fisher@richard's; homenagem a baden pow-
e//@blinding light!!; ranchfest@sugar refinery
SAT 19
jose carreras@orpheum; the dirtmitts@railway; big John bates,
the deadcats, uncle harley@pic; clover honey, operation make-
out, ackley kid, the ewoks@ ms. t's cabaret; coal,
solarbaby@sugar refinery; moral crux, wayward youth, day by
day@gibsons (seattle); homenagem a baden powe//@blinding
light!!; ranchfest@sugar refinery
SUN 20
city girls' boys, dee dee ramone@starfish; the billhilly band@wise
hall; half life of none, ruckus, manplant@gibsons (seattle); saul
williams@sonar; the films of charles and ray eames@blinding
light!!; unrefined@sugar refinery
MON 21
ivan and tarun@the naam; ranchfest@sugar refinery
angst at large, narmada c//ary@blinding light!!; ranchfest@sugar
WED 23
ben harper, jack johnson@plaza; charlie hunter@richard's; yo-yo
ma@orpheum; ec8or@starfish; bluebird north@vancouver rowing club; angst at large, narmada di'ary@blinding light!!; ranch-
fest@sugar refinery
train@starfish; heart beats red, rae, a luna red, le petite
morte@ms. t's cabaret; temperedcast, low end, counter fist@gib-
sons (seattle); mint royale, organic audio@sonar;
ranchfest@sugar refinery
FRI 25
gob, the black halos, lefty@vogue; submission hold, heart beats
red, jerk with a bomb@tba; the getdown syndrome, the nearly
deads, the lonesome teardrops@gibson's (seattle); millhous, pipefitter, the fakes@gibson's (seattle); ranchfest@sugar refinery
SAT 26
april wine@commodore; the b-movie rats, slender@pic; tart
gallery opening: "packaging is everything"@tart gallery; steve
kimock      band@2louies      ballroom      (blaine);      darrell
woodson@sonar; ranchfest@sugar refinery
SUN 27
roots,   rhymes   and   resistance   lll@western   front;   david
byrne@commodore; steve kimock band@richard's
MON 28
david gray@commodore; dj dave and seanski@purple onion
WED 30
lily frost@sugar refinery
nashville pussy, tricky woo, sixty watt shaman@richard's; yam,
firebrat, san pedro circus@gibsons (seattle); the flo sport fashion
show@sonar; dorothy@sugar refinery
Special Events
listen to citr 101.9fm! we're presenting eight hours
of asian heritage month programming on may
17th, 4pm to midnight, citr djs, interviews, live performers, and more!
the 13th annual festival of working class culture
and politics is here from april 27-may 16. here are
our picks from this busy, busy schedute:
april 28: perogie festival (britannia community
centre, 6pm)
may 4: working class feminists build anti-violence
movement (cavern theatre, 7pm)
may 5: rive gauche market (pigeon park)
may 7: evaluating ftaa strategies and tactics (sfu
harbour centre, 7pm)
for the rest of the schedule, call 682.3269 ext.
6261 or check out www.tao.ca/~mayworks
the latest of the many great exhibits at the tart
gallery (1869 w. 4th—the "old" zulu location)
opens on may 26 and continues until june 18.
artists include manwoman, atomos (yayl), i,
braineater, the boy (yay!), pilar alvarez, Valeria
fellini, nicole steen, and many more.
organized by the filipino-canadian youth alliance/
ugnayan ng kabataang, this will be a night of spoken word, poetry, ana song at the western front
(303 e. 8th). admission is by donation. '       :/-■
Dr. Dijdg
Audio recording welcome / 2 Sets / Always!
*Mtt ChambeHam^er^
;>w Music West
fB>idgeridoo Dance Party
^ with guests,.
S Water StyMairTrc
Charlie Hvnter
The Blue Note
recording artist and
8 string guitar master is
back with his new
groove selective featuring
Chris Lovejoi; on percussion,
Steven Chopek on drums,
and John Ellis on Sax
creating a jazz-funkified
melange of
dance floor grooves!
Wed. May 23rd
Richards on Richards
1036 Richards St. Vancouver
Steve KimocK
It is said that improvisation holds the key to the door of
imagination. Steve Kimock holds that key
Sat May 26th     Sun. May 27th
2Louies Ballroom       Richards on Richards
£732 Blaine Rd.. Blaine WA   1036 Richards St. Vancouver
Tix © Block Swan, Highlife, Zulu and oil Tlcketmaster outlets/ charge bu phone (604) 280 4444
Tix & More info, @ wVrW.upstreamentertainment.com or call the streamline @ (604) 904 4207 X-Ray Sounds at Zulu
Afew Releases, Just Slightly Beneath the Surface...
Streethawk: A
Seduction CD
poetically about
DESTROYER. It's futile, pointless.
Our subject outclasses us in
advance. Dan Bejar's poetic license lets him drive large
trucks and taxicabs, even small airplanes. Imagine making
dinner for Julia Child - a humbling exercise, indeed! Sadly,
our favorite troubled troubadour has recently switched
locales, now digging into the rich bar lite and history of
lovely Montreal. A more suitable environment for Bejar's
moody Spanish blood, perhaps? But we'll keep the porch
light on, brother, just in case. In the meantime, however,
we succumb to your sweet seduction: a tale of rock, roll,
betrayal, and redemption.
CD 16.98
Sad Sappy Sucker
Some reflections on MODEST
MOUSE'S seminal materials
now re-issued: The bedroom
recording revolution was not
about a "knife in the ribs of the man" but rather about 4-
track portastudios, rolling with tape hiss deep into the
night! The fight wasn't about who controlled the FM dial, it
was about listening to friends' answering machines - and
getting his/her song ot the week! You know.klo-fi communication theory. With this in mind, perennial Zulu faves
MODEST MOUSE turn back the clock to their hours of old
glory- those countless mid-'90s evenings spent duplicating a $2.50 cassette master!
CD 16.98 LP 12.98
A Man Under the
Influence CD
After a six-year hiatus.
returns to the studio to pen a new batch of elegant roots
rockers. Joined by members of Whiskeytown and
Superchunk. the result is a gritty, honest and rewarding
detour into ESCOVEDO s Austin, Texas universe - a landscape shaped by the eternal themes of loss, regret and
redemption. Multi-dimensional. ALEJANDRO'S songs
unfold into sequined sheets of estranged beauty - something we suggest is well worth a look!
CD 16.98
Dubbing You Crazy CD
Hand-picking tracks from his vinyl-only 'Buhbtag You
Crazy' series. MAD PROFESSOR hooks up with Alan
McGee (Creation Records) for this sturming dub collection
released on London's taste-making Peptones label. For the
novice, here's the perfect PROFESSOR starting point For
the seasoned tan, here are the standouts. For those somewhere in between, it's time to dub! Dub! Ouh!
CD 19.98
Les Sables
Love, Madness, and
Mysticism CD
Look up prolific in the dictionary and JOHN ZOIRM's name
will not be there. Clearly this is a great lack of constder-
part of dictionary makers everywhere.
Conf ieid CD/2LP
"It's very clever bi
Forget playful biting,
you gotta set fire to the hand
that feeds you. This
Montreal's TRICKY WOO hotwire
Royal Trux's abandoned 1974 Cadillac £1 Dorado and bum
down the highway, listening to the same Black
Crowes/Delta 72 mixed tape over and over again, until
blackest night hits haziest of mornings Yesterday is the
new tomorrow. As Spinal Tap Mark II said, "We hope you
like our new direction."
CD 16.98
Sweet Release CD
Get this: Canadian pop has
swooned the Mojo Magazine
set, making it penicillin for the
tired Britpop ear. Hot on the
heels of The Hea*y Bankers, The Gutaries and, dare we
say. The New Pornographers. THE FLASHW6 LIGHTS are
worth more than the Canadian dollar overseas! Uniform
haircuts, corduroy jackets and vintage keys mafce this
■■mc. Sweet Release!!
CD 16.98
In the Pulse of an Artery CD
Combining the dense ambient drifts of Labradford with
the epic arrangements of Godspeed You Brack Eraperer,
this processed-bass trio is a stark anomaly on the burgeoning European avant-rock scene. Instantly identifiable,
ROTHKO's instrumental low-end rumblings begin with simple twigs ot sound, branching out through echoes and delay
to approximate the chaos oi a dense otganie seivage. Come
— allow the vines to consume.,.
CD 14.98       AVAUBLEMAY4"
what does it all mean?" asks the
baffled older generation of music fans. Yeah, well,
whatever Daddio - "the kids" know that AUTECHRE are
still the cutting edge of fastidiously programmed post-
Simliarty the term "avant garde" might need some revision techno-What d0 youngsters care for your "meaning"
as wen. Please let this fie our official petition to endorse when theycan iust layback and luxuriate in al1 that lovely
these minor revisions m the architecture of common de,ajl For what it,s worth' mY mate Mike in London thinks
knowledge. In arty case, this latest recording is a set ot AUTECHRE sound like the product of some futuristic neo-
three new chamber pieces by im. Thoughtful and Medieval other world. He also thinks they're "the fackin'
intense compositions are complemented by thoughtful and    bollocks, mate!'
intense performances. Attention Zulu trivia buffs; ourZOTH    CD/2LP 16.98
section competes easily with mt Grateful Dead for size.
CD 16.98     ummimr SKi™... on
WIUIaWAI jS    |''s Pretty common for con-
Rock Action CD/IP
Building on the momentum of
last year's epic Come Oa Oie
Young. Scotland's quiet/loud rock- j
ers return with their most accomplished record to date. Featuring
the talents of various secret collaborators (Bardo Peed is
certain), this new rei
hinted at on previous MOGWAJ outings, while also establishing the band's song-wnttng verve. All in all, the confident punter should tab Rock Action as an eariy contender
for 2001 Top Tens...Enjoy. PS. these guys are rumored to
be visiting Vancouver shortly, therefore it follows that
familiarity with the anthems is wise.
CD 19.98 LP 16.98
Moos* on Mars has reached
jet-set proportions with rts
latest release. Building on the concept that "kooky" equates to'
"catchy," Ami! Toma and Jan St
Werner take things to a new abstraction with their own
Idiofogy. Bizarre reggae twists and strangely organic turns
make this album more diverse than you'd expect, stealing
your dance vibe to twitch your mental muscles for a
change. Four-corners listenabie, with a lot more "give 'er"
than the recent instrumentais re-release, the new German
thmKHr/swimsuit model music will make you go "hmm"
and hum simultaneously. Someone said something about
Robert Wyatt's Schleep-y sounds being re-created, I
refuse to confirm or deny that allegation...
CD 19.98   LP 16.98
Zulu listening posts hoping to
get down with the click'n'cutting I
edge of the European electronic
scene. It's also pretty common for said punters to leave
the store dazed and confused, ears aching from a baffling
assault of meaningless noise. If this sounds like you,
don't despair. Allow us to provide an effective gateway
drug that will ease you into understanding the overwhelming pleasures of abstract electronica. The new
compilation from Stefan (Pole) Betke's -scape label
throws up nothing that would disrupt your average
Kitsilano dinner party, whilst providing enough detail to
keep even the short haired electronica snobs happy.
Glitch pop? Downtempo with attitude? Allow Sad
Rockets, Kit Clayton and Jan Jelinek to make things
CD 19.98
Suburban Light CD
Like lilac wine that makes one
sweet and heady, London's
CLIENTELE offers the perfect distraction for those lazy afternoons
of self-absorption. Imagine yourself, napped-out under the Old World country oaks, sun-
kissed by the romantic scenery - your wooly sweater
spotted with brambles and burrs. What could be more
perfect? Hesitation and lust wage war under this canopy of
wistful introspection, ephemeral as dream-authored
haikus. Oh, let's hope lust wins out! Majestic pop...under
the influence of Galaxie 500, Belle and Sebastian and
The Chills. Recommended.
CD 19.98
In addition to the thousands of used CDs already in stock, we've just added a fine
selection of hundreds of great titles! If you haven't been by Zulu's former main
address lately, stop by for a gander! Also, hundreds of used CDs have just been
discounted to $5.00, $3.00, ...even $1.00!
tZi/IW     J'     j TUxt Sfoc* (<yze*UHf *>tUy 26):
US MAPLE Acre Thrills cd/lp
THE EX Dizzy Spells CD
THE MINDERS Golden Street CD
PAULA FASER (of Tarnation) Indoor Universe CD
OF MONTREAL Coquelicot Asleep In the
Poppies., cd/lp
Noodles., cd/lp
all prices in effect until May 31, 2001
Zulu Records
1972 W 4th Ave
Vancouver. BC
tel 738.3232


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