Sunday, May 16, 2010

FREE STUFF!!!!

FREE STUFF!!!
Too cheap to buy
music? Too afriad to steal it? Check out these artists that offer their stuff for
free online...

We're Late For Class, A Hundred on the Hyena, Self Released, 2010
We're Late for Class is a Massachusets based, drug fueled, prog-jazz acid fusion getup that has released over forty seven albums in just a few years. They are signed to no label, have a rotating cast of twelve contributors, and give all of their music away for free on their website. Here's how the band describes their stuff:
'You’re invited to experience something the remainder of the planet will never, ever hear. Something that, by all rights, shouldn't even exist... (We are) Noisemakers who don’t want your money. Improvisers with no ulterior motive for fame. Layabouts lacking the secret desire for padded riders filled with quarts of Jack, spare tube socks and roast beef heavy backstage deli trays A gang of pot smoking, acid dropping, ecstasy driven misfits who do this just because we do." - Coop

Bonnie 'Prince' Billy, The Wonder Show of the World, Domino, 2010
This may sound corny, but I still remember the first time I heard Will Oldham. It was one of those life affirming moments that just stick with you and I'm not embrassed to say that it changed the way I thought about not only music but humanity and the world itself. In some small way it made me a better person, and while I may be a total shit, there is a part of me hanging in some basement somewhere that is still decent enough to sit through a whole Bonnie 'Prince' Billy album without getting cynical.
But no one ever calls him on his shit, and there's this general reverential air about him whenever he so much as opens his mouth that is dangerous. Some of the things Oldham has done are downright stupid, such as the time he, Will Oldham, re-recorded the music he made under the moniker Palace, under his current name Bonnie 'Prince' Billy, the most self-indulgent and narcisstic moment of the 2000s. A moment a lot of ciritics (well, me, really) sort of gave up on the idea of indie rock as a living-breathing form of music. Oldham's work has always been more about the image - the backwoods Appalachian outsider artist that never lived in in the mountains and has been commercially and critcally embraced since his debut - than the actual music.
But Oldham has a way of redeeming himself with each transgression that's impossibly endearing. Wonder Show, his sixteenth release, bears witness to Oldham's slow rebirth as the quiet arbiter of antebellum wisdom and bromantically bearded harmonizing ala Fleet Foxes that's so fashionable these days. The opening track "Troublesome Houses" is a simple, folksy acoustic ballad that wouldn't seem out of place on a Crosby, Stills, and Nash meets James Taylor concept album. As would the collossal "The Sounds are Always Begging" - a plaintive ballad about the destruction of a family and the protective recluse that is music.
At times Oldham wheedles into the abstract lo-fi compositions that have plagued his work in the past. "Where Wind Blows" and "With Cornstalks Among Them" find the harmony and grace of the above tracks dissolving into spontaneous warblings that blur the lines between gospel majesty and indie rock in a way that is surprisingly workable yet somewhat unfinished, like a project or experiement instead of a fully formed song. Oldham's distinctive voice mixes well with that of Emmett Kelly (of the Cairo Gang, Oldham's backing band on this record), unlocking harmonic points that thread together with a lonely precision that's both pathetic and remote, glorious and unheard of in their own way - the essence of a great Oldham work. Highly reccommended for fans and newcomers alike.

On the Obovoid and other Places of Interest

A major part of my job here is to link you guys and girls up with great deals around town. Unfortunately (or fortunately) I've recently had the good fortune of getting my old job at the much ballyhooed (at least in these pages) Murphy's Liquor Exchange, so I'll no longer be able to freely expound upon how great that store is, so you'll be hearing a lot more about the rest of the great deals around Topeka, Lawrence, etc, in these pages from here on out because I don't plan on leaving Murphy's for a loooong time. And, all of you who've emailed me have an open invitation to come there between the hours of 10:00 AM and 6:00 PM, Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Sunday and talk beer (or whatever) with me. I'll be the guy trying to look busy.
And that's a good thing. Sean Murphy, who owns Murphy's, knows his shit - he knows and respects good beer and, like all great connoisseurs, opts for quality over quantity, emphasizing how good a bottle or a six pack is over it's name brand. But there are a lot of places around town that simply have no idea what their doing - managers and owners who either order everything just because they can or who stock something because a salesman gives them a good deal. And that's where I come in. It may take a bit of time, but eventually even the most stern-fisted 25% markup asshole will come around to the 'just get rid of it state of mind', and relegate some great treasures into the dusty markdown bins of their stores. This is gonna be fun...
Listen. Obovoid. Grattidge Liquors is a small store on the east side, located in the CaliforniaCrossing shopping center at 29th and California. It isn't a 'destination' store, but offers a nice selection of somewhat crafty sort of stuff. A small cooler of mishap, really, some Sam, some Flying Dog, some of that ridiculous Ed Hardy stuff, nothing Indiana Jones about the place. No risk taking. It has a great location, on the way to the lake, so if you're headed out to Shawnee for an afternoon or some lame party, rather than resorting to the paltry selection at The Dock, that horrid place, you should check out Grattidge. They sell a limited amount of singles (located in a cooler at the end of the wine), most out of season (but not outdated) stuff that doesn't seem to have been mistreated or abused at all. I've recently purchased several winter brews there that tasted just fine. The best buys are by the register, which is where they put the stuff they've seemingly given up on. Currently several bottles of those wonderful St Peters brews are gathering dust for under 5$, but the most intriguing find is the numerous bombers of Obovoid nestled amongst the forgotten stuff for $2.99 - this is surely a find worth mentioning.
I've been looking for a reason to write about Obovoid since it was released back in 2008. If you've never tasted or even heard about the Void here's some background. It's an oak-aged oatmeal stout clocking in at 40 IBUs and 8% ABV in a 22 oz bottle (there are six packs out there somewhere that list the ABV at 6.8%, I've read reviews but never seen them anywhere). It's brewed by the Boulder Beer Company in (duh) Boulder, CO and began as a release in their vaunted "Looking Glass" series, the progenitor of such memorable brews as Mojo Rising, but has become their fall seasonal, though it's rarely seen in Topeka for whatever reason.
Regularly priced in the $6-$8 range at $2.99 the Obovoid is an absolute steal. It's a complex beer, a bit intimidating in appearance, but surprisingly smooth in execution. Pours jet black with a head of nearly the same color which subsides quickly leaving a beautiful graffiti of lacing on the glass. A lot of oat-stouts can be overwhelming, too robust to enjoy, almost like eating a sandwich. The Void resists this temptation, though it definitely approaches the precipice and you can tell that the masters at Boulder, who've been making craft beer since 1979, held back, opting to make a beer you'd rather drink than talk about, my favorite kind.
Speaking of good deals, I hate being the harbinger of bad news but if you're expecting one
on the new 30th anniversary stuff from Sierra Nevada, you're going to be in for a terrible surprise.
They're being offered to stores in the Topeka area in absurdly limited quantities. From what I've
heard the north east quadrant of the state is allocated only four cases. One salesman I spoke to
(well, eavesdropped on, actually) had only four bottles to offer his clients. Take away at least a
case for the inevitable store owner confiscation of a bottle or two and I estimate only about thirty
six people in our area will be lucky enough to buy one of these babies. Hopefully some of you will
share.
Oh, yeah, and the asking price? It'll probably be around $15-17 bucks for a bottle, which pretty much counts me out unless someone from the SN camp wants to toss a 'donation' my way (and, really, I'd take a few ounces delivered via USPS in a sippy cup, I'm not picky). If you haven't heard about it then, not only are you shopping at the wrong store, but be prepared to be blown away: it's a collaboration between Ken Grossman (of SN) and Fritz Maytag (of Anchor). It's a monster, snifter appropriate stout, that weighs in at 9,2% ABV. Early reviews have been excellent, receiving an A- from Beer Advocate reviewers, though you'd have to think that at least some of that is due to the enthusiasm surrounding this release.
The one bit of good news surrounding this whole release is that it is a series. There will be four releases all together, all collaborations between pioneering brewers like Charlie Papazian and Jack Mcauliff, with the exception of the final release, an oak-aged blend of Bigfoot, Celebration, and Pale Ale that is perhaps the most mouthwatering concoction I've ever heard of. This is the one I'm saving my money for (I've stepped up my use of the curse words at home specifically so I can put change into the 'swear jar") - and I don't think I'd be out of line or premature in crowning this monster 'Beer of the Decade' this early in the going. Even if it lives up to 5% of the hype it's going to receive (it won't be released until October, so we probably won't sniff any of it until late November round these parts) it'll be an amazing achievement, setting the standard for the rest of the decades.
That's about all I got right now. With the warmer weather these days, brewpub road trips seem imminent so be on the lookout for me if you're behind the bar at Hank is Wiser or LB Brewing since you're tops on my list of places to visit. I'd also love to do a story on a local home brewer, not only for the opportunity to try your beer and bullshit about beer but I know dick about home brewing (except for the fact that I SUCK at it) so it would be nice to learn a thing or two. And again, you're all welcome to stop by Murphy's and shoot the shit about all stuff beery, or the Royals if you're so inclined. As always, drink safe, drink smart, drink well and share. Cheers!

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Blast from the Past #1 - PUKE-O-RAMA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Fast, loud, and retarded."
That's how Jeremy Yoho describes the sound of the band he used to front, Topeka metal-punk misfits, Puke-O-Rama and, looking back, that's probably the most accurate description possible. Raucous, beligerant, and staunchly anti-social, the band formed in the mid-90s as a trio, the brainchild of guitarist/songwriter Seth Coulter who wrote songs about worshipping Satan, rioting against the cops, hating the fire department... All normal teenage stuff. Yoho was brought in later as a vocalist and the band gave several memorable performances in basements and abandoned houses in and around Topeka/Lawrence.
"Everyone in the band but me was really pretty talented," Yoho recalls.
Blurring the lines between metal and punk was the bands calling card. They mixed grindcore and melody, chaos and collision with tight riffs, and lyrically lambasted everything from love to music, even offering dance advice to listeners.
"Don't do the pogo / When you're jumping up and down / If you do the pogo /I'll knock you on the ground," sang Yoho in the appropriately named party classic "Don't Do the Pogo".
Unfortunately, Puke-O-Rama never amounted to much. The band recorded a split demo with fellow Topeka punks Count Zero in 1995 and Yoho left the band soon after. The remaining members continued on as a trio for a bit before disbanding in the late 90s. Yoho joined the army last year.
"I spend 50% of my time sitting on a mountaintop in Egypt," he says. "Sounds mystical - but it really isn't. The air's thin and it gets mighty cold at night. Presently, I'm sitting in my federally sanctioned bedroom a little bit closer to civilization and I just woke up with a wicked hangover. I don't really drink anymore though, at least not much, so I don't know how that happened."
Puke-O-Rama's legacy, however, is undeniable.
"I heard a guitar riff on the new Metallica album that was exactly the same as one that Seth used," Yoho says. "Not kidding. I'd accuse them of ripping us off if I didn't know that there is no way in hell they've ever subjected themselves to our demo."

Monday, April 5, 2010

Brew News - Spring, 2010



There are a few things that all of my drinking buddies know about me. First, I practically had to rush home and change my pants when I noticed that thirty packs of Iron City cans had arrived at my favorite store (Murphy's, 29th and Topeka). The moment I saw them my mouth began to water with visions of hours of lakeside drinking unhindered by clumsily hiding bottles at the sound of a park ranger's truck. I'm not saying IC is the nectar of the gods, but it's a huge step up from the High Life I'm usually forced to drag with me to the lake, or the occasional dusty case of Yuengling I track down if I'm out of town.
Another thing my friends know is this: I ain't no hophead. Never been one. I've tried. Hell, I've even faked it, to no avail. It's just something about my pallette: almost every high IBU concoction I bring to my lips turns out to be a mistake, and the gnarly shape I somehow contort my face into after the first drink is (I'm told as I've never seen it) both comical and terrifying - an otherworldly cross between the Elephant Man and Jim Carey that defies logical explanation and is worthy of National Enquirer consideration. I've always defended myself by saying things like "I don't put flowers on my steak, why would I want them in my beer?", and "I'll take a Heather Ale over an Imperial IPA anyday", which is ludicrous and untrue. To me, hops are the meat of a beer, the part a patron can really sink their teeth into, and an overly hopped brew is like a steak or slab that's been burned beyond recognition, one dimensional and bland.
That said, I still get excited whenever a new huge IPA hits theshelves, and, though reluctantly, I'll usually end up buying it, dragging it home and forcing myself through it in the hopes of being pleasently surprised. I like being pleasently surprised. It's pleasent. And so, predictably, on my last run to the store I nabbed a few singles that looked promising and sat down determined to approach them with an open mind. Here we go...





Ranger India Pale Ale, New Belgium Brewing Compnay, Fort Collins, CO

Honestly, you could see this coming a few years ago when New Belgium released the Mighty Arrow Pale Ale in their sampler 12 pack. It was obvious that they were testing the water for something new and you could tell that a simple pale ale, while good, wasn't their ultimate goal. The funny thing is, I spoke to a very nice representative at New Belgium about the Mighty Arrow at the time of it's initial release and she told me very enthusiastically that it was "The big one, a whopping 35 IBUs!" which, at the time was quite high for NB. After all, I got a little pissed when they drastically raised their prices during the hop shortage a few years ago because Fat Tire and Sunshine Wheat aren't exactlyhyper hopped brews, so what gives? But bygones are bygones and I dropped my ill-advised boycott of NB a while ago and I'm glad I did, otherwise I would have missed out on Ranger.

At 70 IBUs and 6.5% ABV Ranger is pretty ambitious for an American Belgian style brewery, particularly one as high profile as NB. Ommegang has nothing like it. Even Boulevard's Single Wide is only 59 BUs, so Ranger seems like a great leap forward. It's like if Anheuser Busch came out with some sort of slightly hoppy ale or dumped a bunch of lime juice into Bud Light.... Oh, yeah, nevermind.

I fell in love with Ranger pretty quickly after pouring it into my trusty Old Style mug. It's a beautiful looking beer, strongly copper in color and sporting a fluffy pillow of tasty foam that laces the glass with crinoline etchings of delicious residue as the beer sinks sip by sip. It's incredibly drinkable, and while the hop presence dominates the smell and taste of the beer it doesn't attack the pallette. The bitterness is slight, just a mild tingle towards the end of each sip that tickles the back of the tongue. Hops are the dominate taste, but Ranger doesn't fray the tastebuds with a shocking hop bath. Instead, due to an intense dryu hopping with Cascade hops, it's almost like a hop flavored amber rather than a typical IPA. It's a fun beer to both to drink and look at, and surprisingly sessionable - exactly what I've come to expect from NB.

Something unexpected, however, (at least for me) is a enjoyable Imperial IPA. Unlike a lot of people, I've never been impressed with the "Imperial" tag brewers have been slapping on their brews. To me, it's a great example of the nauseating self-propaganda techniques ad-execs use to make a quick buck, but hey, there's enough simpletons out there to make it profitable, so whatever. To me, it ain't Imperial unless it's wearing white armor and walking around the Death Star. That said...





Hop Czar Imperial IPA, Bridgeport Brewing Company, Portland, OR

It would be unfair to say that I was underwhelmed by the Czar. But it is Bridgeport's fault for calling it Imperial. When I hear Imperial expectations are raised. That's the point of calling it Imperial. I get prepared for an experience. It's irrelevant, really, whether it's good or bad - I'm looking for something memorable. Which is not what you get with the Czar. Don't get me wrong, you get a great beer, one that you'll want to drink regularly. And at 7.5% ABV and 85 IBU's you can drink three or four of these a night a few times a week and be perfectly happy. Fulfilled even. But you're not going to be blown away.

In many ways Hop Czar epitomizes Bridgeport itself. It's a great, flavorful beer that doesn't over-achieve or over-shoot it's boundries. It's recieved good reviews but nothing stellar, and provides a nice back bone for a style that's been plundered and pillaged like a Viking conquest over the last ten years. The IPA and Imperial IPA may be close to running it's course and it's nice that both of these powerhouse breweries have finally contributed their two cents to the conversation.

Well, that's it for now. Be back next month with a few more thoughts and such, and maybe one of those brewery visits I promised last time. Cheers! - jack

Spoon, Transference, Merge Records, 2010


From the beginning Spoon has always seemed like a career rather than a rock band, and leader Britt Daniel has always seemed like more of an investment manager than a rocker, more Colonel Parker than Elvis, more Malcolm Mclaren than Sid Vicious. Spoon has been the next big thing for the last fifteen years but have never pulled their tour van over the hump, and there's a good reason for that. Spoon has always epitomized what people distrusted about indie rock - they're pretentious, pregnant with their own self esteem, and hung up on a smug confidence in their own abilities.
Like Wilco's Jeff Tweedy, bandleader Britt Daniel has always wanted to "make it" in the real world, and has had a sense of entitlement to rock stardom that never sat well with the listening public. Even as the biggest and most respected indie rocker in the land Daniel has seemed unhappy, ready to compromise whatever necessary in his desire to transcend his meager, but dedicated fanbase.
Spoon has never made a great album. They've done some great songs but have never been able to hold it together long enough to really wow someone. Until now. While Transference, their seventh full length, may not be a 'This is Our Music" statement, it is a "My my, hey hey" kiss off to the both the haters and lovers that have expected so much out of the band. Dropping most of the pretensions that have plagued the band, Daniel strips the sound down to the basics and does what he does best: basic, rooty rock ditties that are flightly enough to dance to but still have the teeth to stick in your head all the live long day. It's quirky without being weird, poppy without pandering and it's the first Spoon album that just seems like a Spoon album, rather than an attempt to set or defy trends. Daniel is not a trendsetter. He's not a rebel either. He's not a lyrical genius, and he's not a guitar god. He never has been. He's the leader of a decent rock band of mild influence and appeal. For once he seems to be comfortable with that. Now he can finally get to work. - Stacks

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Reasons to be Good - A Short Conversation with Ryan Davis, State Champion of Kick Ass New Bands

I first stumbled upon Louisville, KY newcomers State Champion while bumming around music geek message boards one night and didn't think much of them.There was a buzz about the band, but something about their crunchy, guitar driven alt country just didn't sit right. The songs seemed confused and sloppy, the country punk seemed romanticized at best and contrived at worst. A few days later I gave hem another chance and I don't know, maybe it was the right combination of a few Pabst Blue Ribbons and the early evening light of a long and frustrating day, but it just hit me, the music clicked in my brain and I 'got it'. Since then I've listened to their first full length, Stale Champagne, about a thousand times, played it for every friend I have, found myself humming the tunes while doing the dishes, and relished the fact that I've reserved a spot for myself on this bands bandwagon before they get 'big', which is bound to happen any day now.

The band is the brainchild of Ryan Davis, a Kentucky bred art student turned songwriter who spent the better part of the past decade writing songs in a flat in Scotland and ploughing the fertile fields of the Louisville underground to piece his band together. Unlike most bands, which develop naturally through a core of bud's and beers, State Champion went through countless changes in lineup and arrangement, from Davis performing solo, to a two piece, to Davis solo again, etc.

"I struggled for a long time with what it meant to perform solo," he says. "If it was the kind of music I was intending to make or if it was only reflecting my laziness and lack of resources. I eventually hit a wall performing alone and began collaborating with anyone I knew with an instrument. Whether he or she was worth a damn or not was entirely secondary."

"Some were better than others," he continues. "Some were more interested than others. Almost all of them were friends, roommates, borrowed musicians of more established bands. I eventually arrived at a group of folks with whom I clicked enough to consider keepers. They were committed enough to tour and understood the songs well enough to make up for my shortcomings."

Exactly what those shortcomings are is a mystery. On record the band is nearly flawless. Unabashedly blending endearing lo-fi sensibility and polite farm boy twang with 90s-ish guitar heroics, Champagne is a major power surge for a scene which has been thirsting for authenticity since everyone starting pretending Yankee Hotel Foxtrot was a masterpiece. The songs that make up the record have a natural and honest feel to them, and they're possessed with a 'love 'em or hate 'em so what, we're not trying to impress anyone', attitude that's undeniably, well, impressive. More than being a genre record, it's a record of the Midwest, a record of experience, from influence to execution. Davis cites songwriters like Will Oldham, Conner Oberst and Jason Molina as major influences, but it's more than that.

"You grow up in Kentucky with this warped view of the world, wishing you were from New York City or somewhere in California," Davis says. "You listen to Nirvana and Jesus Lizard growing up, anything to avoid what came long before you, historically. I remember buying a Misfits shirt in 5th grade before I'd ever even heard them because I knew it was good. Then I went to the mall and bought Collection II and was like "What the fuck? This sounds like Elvis!" Took me a minute to wrap my head around it."

"When I was in Glasgow, alone in that flat with an acoustic guitar that I barely knew how to play I was coming from a year in American art school," Davis says. "I was having new bands shoved down my throat. Le Tigre, Animal Collective, all this wacky shit. But when I sat down to write that first batch of songs, it came out kind of sounding like country music. I didn't understand it, but I guess there is something inherently Southern that was just sort of boiling over the years, soaking in it for so long.

"Now that this record has been getting a little press, people talk about how we are paying homage to the greats of alt-country. Bands like Uncle Tupelo and Drive By Truckers and I have never heard a single one of these bands! Just makes me wonder if dudes like Jeff Tweedy and Ryan Adams started writing songs like that for the same reason I did. Because they loved both The Byrds and Black Flag, and that's just how their brain chose to deal with it."

Check out State Champion at their MySpace: myspace.com/iamstatechampion
Buy Stale Champagne here: http://sophomoreloungerecords.com/records.html