Backstage With a Band of Budos

“It seems pretty clubby in here,” said Budos Band saxophonist Jared Tankel during an interview backstage at Le Poisson Rouge. The risqué West Village club is notorious for attracting the night owls to its late night shows and dance parties. Provoking the booty shakers last Thursday in the dark, red dungeon were The Budos Band, an eleven-piece instrumental entourage from Staten Island whose funkadelic Afro beats are derived from their homegrown psychedelic soul.

Shortly before Budos took the stage, I attempted to instruct a few brave souls on how to properly meditate for relaxation. “Some drugs would help,” explained John, the obvious theologian who sat perched on a red velvet throne with antique trim and plastic Excalibur sword by his side. “This is some Jesus biz-nas,” observed Brian, an 8th grade school teacher of history and art.

Taking it upon myself to leave the room and let the musical disciples do their thing, I hit the front of the stage and immersed myself in the fading funky bass lines and dreamy discotheque riffs of Brooklyn’s own Chin Chin, a glam pop outfit reminiscent of Earth, Wind and Fire or early Prince.

As the openers came to a close, the venue filled with Budos-heads, ready and eager to watch each band members toot his own horn -- literally. The Budos boys kept time shuffling side-by-side through much of their latest record, The Budos Band II (Daptone; 2007) and hips swayed to the snake-charming blow of Tankel’s baritone sax. Spanish style guitar carried the rhythm of “King Cobra” while trumpet and trombone slid over long baritone draws. “Budos Rising”, another crowd-charmer followed a similar suit. “Ride or Die” was a true to form James Bond speeding car chase with 007 at the wheel.

Kudos to the Budos for revisiting 70s Afro disco and bringin’ the funk back home. The Budos Band have gotten into a groove that we will likely to see more of, as music continues to transition and move back to its diverse roots. With a third album currently in the works (aptly to-be-named Budos III?) this band of Budo-ly brethren is probably the most promising collaboration to come out of Staten Island, since the Wu-Tang Clan.

Distracting Myself With the Boob Tube

On a bitter cold and snowy winter morning, a dear friend and I decided to turn on the ‘ole idiot box the other day to see what was going on in the world. To much of my dismay, the news is slower than molasses and female broadcasters are dim-witted as ever. “I don’t get it,” a CNN broadcaster declares, “they look like giant Easter eggs!” The illusive commentary was in reference to the traditional “Flour War” in celebration of the Greek Carnival. I would like to formally extend my undying gratitude to American media for upholding our ignoramus stature.

One sob story report about the recession after another, led us to a painfully last resort. Tuning into VH1’s Top 20 Countdown was probably the worst mistake I have made in my life since getting a tattoo. I have but one question for you my friends, what the hell is up with Pink’s new video?

“Sober” is the antithesis of everything Ms. Pink stood for from her last hit single (to the best of my memory) “Stupid Girls”. I don’t like Pink, I never did. Quite frankly the burly husky woman frightens me. Her sexuality was never really a question before, but after her recent divorce to Motorcross Racing superstar Carey Hart and new video to boot, I’m beginning to think she may have a case of the Lindsay Lohans. Don’t get me wrong, however, I do not have a problem with lesbians. I do however, have a problem with ego-charged androgynous displays self-sexual in nature.

Confused? Trust me, you aren’t the only one. I cannot begin to express my initial disgust with a thick, husky flat-chested woman who’s scantily clad negligee leaves absolutely nothing left to the imagination. Bear in mind that the Top 20 Countdown caters to the 13-and-under demographic, for starters. Butch haircut, nose ring and trashy tribal tattoos aside, Pink’s attempt at Madonna’s “Erotica” has already been done. The only difference in “Sober” is shotty poor taste. For this I give Pink four stars.

So what’s the big deal, you might ask? She’s just another washed-out popstar trying to reinvent herself through her sexuality, big deal. Well my friends, this is no typical born again “Like a Virgin.” This is far worse than Jewel. Not only has Pink become exactly what she hates most, she embodies it fully, whole-heartedly and is selling millions of records to the same fans who jumped on her “Stupid Girl” bandwagon. All-out hypocrisy aside, there is one serious issue I feel as though I must address in order fully expose the Slutty Girl for what she really is.

Pink has sex with herself.

No, I’m not talking about masturbation. A sin to some, yes, but this is something we all fall victim to and can easily cleanse ourselves of.

I repeat, Pink has sex with HERSELF.

Towards the end of the video, Pink crawls her way into bed. I think to myself, “Thank God, she is going to make sweet, passionate love to some hot male supermodel to redeem herself of her questionable nature"... Wrong!

Pink takes it upon herself to crawl into bed with herself. No, she’s not alone, she is with another Pink! How’d they do it? I honestly could care less. CGI has ceased to amaze me ever since Lord of the Rings. So yes, there you have it, our beloved Pink is single, sober and asexual as she passionately makes sweet love to none other than herself. She succeeds in shocking the world by riding another Pink all night long (and who said the world wasn’t big enough) and I had to force myself to watch. Upon viciously spanking her own ass, my friend and I had to pinch ourselves to make sure we weren’t dreaming, that this was actually real.

I assure you my friends, this is very, very real indeed. A living nightmare and absolute garbage. A true disgrace to popular music as we know it.

Somebody get me some Bob Dylan, Chet Baker, Willie Nelson — hell, I’d even take Kelly Clarkson or the Jonas Brothers. Something, anything to alleviate this massive dishonor to music media.

Does anyone even realize that she ripped off the title of her new album, "Funhouse" from the Stooges?!??

I rest my case.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=89V7hvEmSD8

The Secret Machines rock an LSD sound system in 3-D

November 18, 2008 at the Music Hall of Williamsburg
photo credit:
Elizabeth Payne

If there’s anything The Secret Machines learned while on tour with U2, it’s that 3-D is still very, very cool. Bono and company may have revived the ‘80s trend with a larger than life three-dimensional IMAX production, but last night in Brooklyn at the Music Hall of Williamsburg, the Secret Machines housed a similarly prismatic effect — in the flesh. 3-D glasses were passed out to concert-goers, just moments before the outer-space rockers took the stage. Even the most elite of hipsters couldn’t resist, donning the stellar geekwear with pride.

The effects of three dimensional visuals could be detected before the heavy rainbow strobes even began. Strips of white rubber latex draped like a three-sided canopy overtop the trio’s set, allowed every color to transmit from the light spectrum in its true and vibrant form like a real-life refracting prism. The Secret Machines are known best for their brooding krautrock performances, massive Floydian crescendo and most recently as pioneers of the social networking bandwagon. The psychedelic mavericks have taken their progressive nature a step further, finding themselves in rainbows, with a new guitar player in tow. Without necessarily encouraging experimental drug use, TSM share their discoveries of what’s behind those locked doors by providing fans with a set of kaleidoscope eyes. A photographer’s flash only enhanced the vivid trip.

Three songs into the set, the rose-colored glasses came off. “You’re Gone”, a haunting ballad from their latest self-titled release, demonstrated front man Brandon Curtis’ vocal maturation, as he pounded away at the keys. “The Walls Are Starting to Crack”, another new track spanning just over ten minutes, mesmerized the crowd with the hypnotic wails of Phil Karnats’ guitar. “Atomic Heels” the anticipated first single with an equally spellbinding video set to accompany, revitalized the still-for-a-moment energy with power-stomp drum and bass. The unreleased masterpiece “Dreaming of Dreaming” was a spiritualized flow of heavy-on-the-kickdrums, characteristic of drummer Josh Garza’s typical beat.

Much like the Oct. 18th Webster Hall gig that kicked off the current North American tour, the set list was heavy on their latest and oldest material. While the machines may have had a few screws loose during their own opener as Karnats struggled to keep his guitar in check, their overall performance remained electro-charged through the encore, “Nowhere Again” as they bade Brooklyn psychedelia farewell, finishing the tour in their own ‘hood.

Aside from the hit single “Lightning Blue Eyes”, and the melodrama of “Alone, Jealous, and Stoned” not much else was played from sophomore album, Ten Silver Drops. Also missing that night were fellow prog-rockers TK Webb, who opened for TSM the first leg of the tour. Joining the band in the ‘burg to wrap up the jaunt were TV on the Radio’s current project, Dragons of Zynth. Although DOZ were slightly DOA, the mood was elevated when the lead singer jumped into the pit of five or six bystanders, knocking a beer out of one lucky winner’s hand. The Bloc Party on Acid uber-hip quartet surely has a promising future as a TVOTR cover band, if all else fails.

The Decemberists Salute the President-Elect and Barack ‘n Roll in NYC

November 5, 2008, at Terminal 5

The post-election party continued at Terminal 5 in Manhattan’s Upper West Side Wednesday eve, when The Decemberists brought a life-size cardboard cutout of President-Elect Barack Obama onstage. Plenty of “Yes We Can”, followed by countless “Yes We Did” sums up the strong sentiment of the politically charged performance. The Decemberists may have jumped on the Obama victory bandwagon to enhance the energy of the show, but this was hardly a first for the progressive indie rockers. The band played at an Obama rally for the Senator and a crowd of nearly 75,000 on their own Portland soil in May of this past year.

Rifling through plenty of old material, namely 2003’s Her Majesty and 2005’s Picaresque (Kill Rock Stars), Colin Meloy and company paraded themselves as fantasmical storytellers, characteristic of their whimsical and quirky nature. “We Both Go Down Together” known as the tale of a drunken suicide, was played in an uber toned down flat acoustic, sounding more R.E.M. than Arcade Fire. The band’s classic showmanship suggests a post high school theater-nerd bond -- their dramatic sea chanteys and Irish jigs would under normal circumstance fare better with Broadway-goers and those who typically dabble in the arts. Regardless of whiny tones and nonsense lyrics, the Decemberists did far more than entertain the sold-out show, with Mr. Obama’s replica as their sixth bandmate.

“Ever see anyone play a guitar solo with a peacock feather?” Meloy asked, “well there’s a first time for everything, so stand back!” Keeping the feather mostly intact, Meloy shredded his guitar with feather during a tribute to Governor Sarah Palin,… you betcha! After dropping to the stage and playing dead, the feather found its way to the nuts of Nick Query’s bass neck, before assuming its final resting position behind Mr. Obama’s head for the remainder of the set. Pausing for a sip of red wine, Maloy learned that near everyone in the audience was celebrating their birthday that night, before borrowing a pink cell phone from another lucky patron to make a call while he delved into another tune. Comic relief and banter continued with accordion/keyboardist Jenny Conlee about the smell of a possible electrical fire. Perhaps it was all just a part of the act.

Masterpiece theatre continued with the new single, “Valerie Plame” a Beatles-y “Hey Jude” type ballad about the infamous C.I.A. undercover operative scandal. The track is set to release on their upcoming, Always a Bridesmaid (Capitol), a first time release for the band on a major label. Back and forth like ocean waves, a cover of The Velvet Underground’s “I’m Sticking With You” elated mood while the woeful tale “The Engine Driver” sank into somber aesthetic. “Ohhh, you like the abuse!” Meloy joked as he elevated the atmosphere once more with multi-instrumentalist Chris Funk—the two engaged in a behind-the-head guitar solo challenge. Meloy earned extra points for balancing his acoustic atop of his head.

“The Mariner’s Revenge” marked the sound-off to the encore, as the entire band marched side-by-side for the fictional number about living inside the belly of a whale. At the show’s finale, the crowd was urged to partake in the sing-along, “Sons and Daughters”. The masses joined together with the band, most swaying back and forth and linking arms. Over and over they sang in proud and patriotic declaration -- “Hear all the bombs fade away…”

*****

SVIIB

School of Seven Bells
Alpinisims
Ghostly International
10.28.08
****
Brooklyn psychedelia has fostered a new class of alchemists. School of Seven Bells, fronted by harmonious twin sister vocalists Alejandra and Claudia Deheza (On!Air!Library!), flourished upon departure of guitarist Ben Curtis from his former band of brothers, The Secret Machines. Conjuring up mysticism, SVIIB employs their debut, Alpinisms (Ghostly International) urging those who cannot see what they see to wear “designer rose-colored glasses”.

“How does someone with nothing end/ up with so much to show for it?” The disco-laden “Connjur” is backed by Curtis’ electro avant-garde licks, reminiscent of the former sibling alliance. Rest assured, however, SVIIB are not TSM. The Bells are futuristic laptop magic meets monastical choir chant. The Machines are heavily brooding and progressive. Both bands fared well by the amicable split to opposite sides of the psychedelic spectrum — light versus dark.

SVIIB generates transcending white light through cosmic sound, awakening the mind’s third eye with airy timbre and warming the soul through looping rhythm. “White Elephant Coat” conveys their surreal musical vision, as sisters Deheza endow mesmerizing accompaniment to a prowling Blonde Redhead bass line. Strapped in by sleigh bells, Claudia creates tribal percussion with maracas and tambourine while Alejandra bestows snakecharming keyboard hooks. The Deheza’s layered neo-Celtic mantra is evocative and ghostly. Echoing chords from Curtis offer a meditative mood and higher spiritual awareness. White elephants are good omens.

Good karma has kept these students ahead of the class. School of Seven Bells are “…undernodisguise”, divulging centered realist ideals and lateral thinking. “I am neither breather or speaker/ I am neither walker or sleeper/ I am neither sister, brother, son or daughter…” Influenced by the moment, these young, modern existentialists need not a school of thought. Alpinisms is a boycott of shallow hipster values and talentless electronic melody. Catchy Ladytron beats, angelic hymns and guitar wizardry make for an evolution of laptop smart-pop that has no doubt found its place in the future of music, knocking seven bells out of the BK psychedelic realm. Groovy.

"That's Kunt"

Justin Tranter of Semi Precious Weapons and DIY jewelry artist extraordinaire.

Magnetic since birth and ready for his close-up, a star was born in the suburbs of Chicago. “Kunt is my mother’s favorite word,” Justin Tranter said, clarifying the self-proclaimed catch phrase, “always has been since I was a babe.” I got up close and personal with the front man of new New York glam band, Semi Precious Weapons at Lucky 13 Saloon -- a skuzzy punk rock dive in Park Slope, Brooklyn — no doubt a fitting locale for the interview. Tranter loved me as much as he loves you (and himself) and reveals that “Magnetic Baby”, the single from the band’s debut album We Love You (Razor & Tie) is about more than just being fabulous. “If you’re a magnetic person you get all the benefits, both positive and negative.” And much like bitchin’ and phat, Tranter also found the good in kunt.

Between coordinating a taping of MTV series, Made, with an album set to drop Oct. 30, and an extensive tour in the works, how does the 28-year-old ever find the time to incorporate a jewelry business into the mix? “Its been pretty much an 18 hour a day job,” Tranter explained. The budding rock star has kept himself busy building a ton of hype for his bands’ debut, alongside a jewelry empire coined Fetty — a hybrid of ‘fucked-up’ and ‘pretty’. What’s unique about Tranter’s lucky charms, aside from being the perfect merch for his gigs and selling like hotcakes at Urban Outfitters and Hot Topic, is that he started this biz before he reached fame. Tranter has personally touched over a hundred thousand pieces in the last year alone, with a little help from his friends of course. “Too many celebrities and rock stars start putting their names on things after they get famous, just to make more money,” he said. “I’ve done it all myself”. Fetty and new line Fame paid for his record deal and even caught the eye of Kate Moss and accomplice, Princess Beatrice.

The high-end collection of diamond Braille bangles and pendants can be found at Barneys. The Princess waltzed into the 5th Ave shop in New York and asked for Fetty, as per the request of her supermodel friend. Tranter’s buzz also grabbed the attention of famed producer Tony Visconti (David Bowie and T. Rex) and publicist turned DJ, BP Fallon (Death of Disco Parties). The legends took the rocker and his band under their wing. Even Perez Hilton wants a piece of the Weapons — he’s asked them to join his upcoming CMJ music showcase.

More Velvet Goldmine than Hedgewig and the Angry Inch — the gender-bender boasts a high energy balls-to-the wall show and can carry a shrilling F-sharp soprano better than any other man. Yet even with heavy black eye-makeup and four-inch stillettos, he won’t identify as trans. Sure, Tranter digs on cock rock like AC/DC and Led Zeppelin, but as a kid of the ‘90s he can’t help but succomb to sultry lyrical gangsta rap like ‘Lil Kim. “The shit she says is so ridiculous,” he laughs, “like how she compares herself to 9/11 — she has such big balls!” FYI, Tranter’s also got a case of Rihanna-mania.

His friends call him “Precious”, and MySpace fans are already stopping him in the street. Plus, they love him in Canada. Watch out for this star-bangled bender and his dazzling chest of treasures. After all, everyone needs a little more love in their lives. “There’s no heartbreak in jewelry,” Tranter revealed. Now that’s what I call, kunt.

Top Secret Machinery

The Secret Machines
Self- titled (TSM Recordings)
10/14/08
*****
“Now you’re gone, it’s too late / the world is starting to spin”. The nostalgic lexis of Brandon Curtis’ haunting lyrical prowess in “Now You’re Gone” divulge into layers of abstract romanticism and explore the fervor often associated with time-stopping encounters. The Secret Machines have come full circle, boasting a self-titled release on their own DIY label (TSM Recordings) with new and heavily experimental lead-guitarist, Phil Karnats in tow. Guitar gap filled, the band deemed an album title unnecessary. Even sans other-brother Curtis, they’re still The Secret Machines. Benjamin Curtis left the band in early 2007 to focus on his project School of Seven Bells.

Their third album to date, the New York based trilogy seems complete -- sounding more brooding than ever. The band’s new 3rd element probes into otherworldly licks that saturate atmosphere and generate a seemingly flawless transition for the band. “He’s kind of a dark guy,” Curtis revealed about his long-time friend Karnats on a dismal and rainy Manhattan afternoon. “But that was always the direction we were headed.” Curtis may feel akin to gloomy weather but his music is intent on taking an uplifting and positive tone. “The world is in a dark place right now,” Curtis said, “so what we want is to make people more aware of it, without being cynical.”

These days, it’s hard not to be political. The space rock single, “Atomic Heels”, is fueled by electro avant-garde psychedelia and already has a video in the works. Not since David Bowie’s “Space Oddity”, have we heard the likes of “I Never Thought to Ask” transcend from sub Area 51-type counterculture to mainstream. “Last Believer, Drop Dead” launches Faust arpeggios reminiscent of the Machines debut, Now Here is Nowhere, and fuses early ‘70s West German experimental rock. “The Walls are Starting to Crack” progresses into a vast Floydian finish parallel to The Wall itself.

“The Fire is Waiting” is characteristic of TSM’s lengthy instrumental breakdowns. Running just over eleven minutes long, its hard not to succumb to renaissance drummer Josh Garza’s dance with the devil. Play the record loud and much like the band’s early Texan heydays, you’re ears will ring for hours -- but your heart will be OK. In other words, synchronize the aftershock of a My Bloody Valentine show with futuristic noise rock, and call it a close encounter of the new third kind. Houston, do you copy? Over and out.