"A Scrupulous Cultural Ignorance" - The 2011 PRF BBQ Auktoberfyst

Gothamist: "It just seems from my perspective that there aren’t many bands that are making dark or ugly music anymore."

Steve Albini: "Well, it sort of depends on the idiom really. There’s a lot of sort of grungy metal and punk stuff where every single band is trying to make aggressive music."

Gothamist: "Yeah, I guess I’m referring more to the..."

Steve Albini: "Bands that play at the clubs you go to."

Steve Albini is at his quotable best in this interview over at The Gothamist blog, in which he shares his always smirk-inducing opinions on New York City, the asinine Odd Future dustup ("It was a message board thread about Odd Future and I happened to have an anecdote about them so I share my anecdote and what passes for Journalism these days is repeating things that other people link to you on Twitter so that’s what it boils down to"), and his interactions with mainstream popular music:

I’m an exceptionally lucky man in that I’ve never heard a note of Lady Gaga’s music and you could sit her on my lap and I wouldn’t recognize her. I know that she’s a cultural force at the moment but I’m quite satisfied in having dodged that one. It’s like a truck drove by spraying shit from a nozzle over the entire neighborhood and I happened to be under an awning. You know?

What it boils down to is that I’ve maintained a scrupulous cultural ignorance since about 1985 when I realized that what’s going on out there in the regular world means nothing to me. If it’s not being done by people I can identify with in some way or people that say something that punches through the distance between me and them and makes me pay attention to it. If it’s not that, if I don’t find it rewarding then I’m not going to spend any energy trying to think about it.

I oft times envy Albini's ability to screen out the portions of the music world he finds undesirable. While i tend to think of myself as at my most entertaining when i'm yelling acerbic nonsense about Stuff That Sucks, there's definitely a generous slice of myself that gets up in arms about that shit because of some deep unresolved issue with how little validation the stuff i like (and maybe, by extension, my own fragile ego) gets outside of my own keyboard. Obviously Albini hasn't ever had that issue, or if he has, he's long come to terms with it (helped, i'm sure, by being successful in a creative field that he loves on his own terms).

Thankfully for dumb, attention-hungry fucks like myself, the PRFBBQ Auktoberfyst served this weekend as a reminder that awesome music doesn't need to be validated by any kind of mass media approval system to be, well, awesome. For three days, an online community of music enthusiasts convened in the meat world to share their creations with each other, bereft of any but the most dismissive, patronizing press blurbs promoting the gathering. Three days of music produced and consumed by a close-knit group of folks who would be thrilled if you stopped by too, but won't be losing any sleep because you didn't.

Ironically, the three-day lineup (beginning last Thursday at Quenchers saloon on Fullerton and Western and continuing on Friday and Saturday at Klas restaurant in Cicero) was full of something for nearly everybody, which is not how those who prefer to dismiss the EA Forum folk prefer to think of a group of "Albini-worshippers." All aluminum guitars and abrasive, Jesus Lizard and Shellac-ripoff noise rock, right? Well, there was plenty of that, to be sure, but not in the quantities online commenters might expect.

I unfortunately missed Thursday's show (my bandmates are not as courteously unemployed as i), but Friday's was positively stacked. PRF favorites Bottomless Pit, the earthy, soulful ensemble featuring ex-Silkworms Andy Cohen and Tim Midgett, debuted six new songs of the same measured, thoughtful, atmospheric rock that still evokes fond memories of Silkworm and drummer Chris Manfrin's former outfit Seam. Whales followed with a set of dreamy indie pop that calls to mind infectious 90s standouts like Velocity Girl and Versus with a little shoegazer love thrown in the mix.

But Friday's clear standouts were the phenomenal Lines and Terminals and Maple Stave. L&T should be a well-known name in Milwaukee by now, as they've blessed the stages and floors of the Cactus Club, Borg Ward, and Circle A more than regularly. Their experimental, mostly instrumental approach has evolved over the the last year or so, dropping most of the guitars in exchange for more analog synth licks and photo-theremin squeals. The set was full of chewy synthetic bass fuzz, bright organ stabs and escalating, driving riffs that pulsed and built to dramatic, powerful crests. Post-set, one show-goer remarked that Lines and Terminals need to work out a deal to score the next Michael Mann cop drama. Some entertainment lawyer needs to make that happen with a quickness as that idea is genius.



And Maple Stave...ok, here are some aluminum guitar, Touch & Go Records-worshipping noise-rock nerds, but if there's anyone doing it better right now, please sendspace me their records because i'll scream to the heavens about their genius. Evan Rowe is one of those drummers (and one of several that played over the weekend) that i, as a fellow percussionist, am borderline intimidated to play in front of. He's a rare talent, and he anchors a loud, scratchy, heavy-as-shit BEAST of a rock machine. Seeing them play is always a gift.

Saturday's lineup continued the nonstop amazeballs: The Viper & His Famous Orchestra brought old-timey fun to the proceedings, all dandy appearances and suitcase percussion and trombone-flavored ragtime; St. Louis' Spelling Bee dazzled with noisy-experimental guitar shredding and drum wizardry; the Sinking Suns rattled the Klas chandeliers with earth-moving pigfuck that would have made fellow Madisonians Killdozer proud; Begin By Gathering Supplies continued their ascent into shoegazey Britpop royalty, with the emphasis on the pop--the addition of the Heavy Bombers' Brent Mix on baritone sax adding yet another layer to the ever-expanding cloud of sensuality that BBGS envelops you in, as inviting as the sexy new neighbor with the bottle of wine, a joint, and cable TV that just happens to need fixing.



For our part, we tried to make things memorable by setting up our gear so that instead of facing into the room, we faced out the large bay windows behind the stage and into the beer garden (directly following Spelling Bee, we had no choice but to lean on gimmickry). We kicked everyone out of the main room and sent them outside (our soundman, Rich of the venerable Bear Claw, announced that all non-band members had to get the fuck out of the "backstage area" and get in front of the stage), kicking into "Paradise By the Paulding Light" with panes of glass separating us from the crowd, like a rock and roll zoo exhibit. After one song that featured Yale losing his balance and plowing into the guitar amp he was using, the powers that be at Klas demanded we turn back around, as people were keeping the door between beer garden and inside open, blasting the hapless restaurant patrons as a result. Hey, whatever, we at least got video.

But once again, the PRF saved the best for last, as Latest Flame beasts Trophy Wives pummeled the throng with their usual southern-fried combination of stoner-rock sounds and northwestern post-punk riffs. TWives bassist Tony Ash brought along his fellow miscreants in Louisville band Nixon, who dispensed with the "post-" and blasted away on some no-bullshit, blistering punk 'n' roll, delivering a Kentucky ass-kicking Quadrajets style with Zeke's tempos, anchored by the umpteenth brain-busting drummer in attendance. And the PRF finally got their first live taste of Milwaukee's best rock band, Call Me Lightning, who left everyone agog.



It was evident to anyone who showed up that there was some serious communing going on (held together not only by the music, but by the amazing sausages being grilled in the beer garden, courtesy Mr. Albini), and i cannot overemphasize the importance of what's happening here. A music scene, a community, built up and self-sustained by like-minded people that create for the sake of creating, and for sharing those creations with their peers. No, it's not being documented by anyone outside the group, and that could be misconstrued as insularity, but make no mistake--it's not like anyone from Spelling Bee or Call Me Lightning are even registered on the forum, if you get my drift.

The community, and what that community has accomplished here, is its own reward, and while i would love to see my friends get the recognition they deserve, i'm sure i could benefit from the words of the guy whose studio brought us all together, and embrace the benefits of keeping "scrupulously ignorant" of what the rest of our culture deigns to declare as relevant.

That being said, i'll still be writing stuff like this and pleading my case, and if just a handful of people outside the circle manage to discover Maple Stave, i will feel like i've done my part to contribute.

Postscript: all videos in this post were shot and edited by Caffeinated Recordings, the unofficial documentarians of all things PRF. All videos are from past events, but video from this year's Auktoberfyst is slowly making its way to their YouTube channel, so keep checking back there for amazing footage of every band i mentioned and more.

R.I.P.W.A.H.

Back at it, y'all, with some weird stream-of-consciousness nonsense.

On Wednesday the big Facebook linkfest was all about the news that Jack White has produced/collaborated on a single with Insane Clown Posse for his Third Man Records label. Weird as hell, but anyone who's done more than the cursory research that i have into what Jack White's been doing with the label (read: Everything I Know About Third Man Records I've Heard From The Wizard) knows that Mr. RaconteurWeatherStripe is essentially running his label as a crazy-ass doing-it-because-he-can vinyl nerd boutique (just check out the catalog and dig all the crazy two- and tri-color vinyl runs, as well as some of the other less-than-conventional choices: a Conan O'Brien 7-inch? Pairing the Black Belles with Stephen Colbert and using them to record Elvira's Movie Macabre theme song? Apparently one of the Dead Weather singles comes inside a 12-inch, and then the 7-inch detaches from the inside of it or something. I dunno, sounds like some crazy rock-n-roll warlock shit). So, Jack White working with Insane Clown Posse? Hey, sure.

My not-at-all-scientific take on the whole thing was that maybe this stunt will call enough attention to Third Man that my pals We Are Hex will sell a few more copies of the single they just released on the label, "Twist the Witch's Titty." I'm all for anything that will cast a light on pals of mine, not that it's all that likely. (How many music fans are there these days that pull the old Sub Pop allegiance trip and swear fealty to record labels as eagerly as they do to bands? Yeah, not many.)

Of course, that was before Chris from Police Teeth alerted me to a cryptic breakup notice on Hex's Facebook page, which...well, shit. Now i have to post a eulogy for this fantastic, urgent band.

So. We Are Hex.



My band's known their singer Jilly for ten years in October. We met her in Muncie, IN on our very first multi-day road trip out of Wisconsin, and ever since, we've been hooking up shows in the Dairy State for her bands, many of which she would prefer us to wipe from our brains. (I can say that because she told me that personally. "Dear god, forget any of those bands ever existed.") She started to hit her stride, though, with a band called Ari. Ari. that she formed with future Hex drummer Brandon. A swirling melange of Sonic Youth-y feedback walls over post-punk, gothy synth waves, Jilly swirled around the eye of the Ari. Ari. hurricane, stabbing the occasional black keys while wailing about god knows what, a blur of black hair and tattoos. They were loud, crazy, driving, and thrilling as hell, but as is the case with many a band that shines too brightly too quickly, they burned out in a matter of months.

Enter We Are Hex, Jilly and Brandon's next step in refining the Ari. Ari. cyclone into a more focused weapon of mass destruction. The synth-and-feedback carpet bombing approach was replaced with stabby guitar licks and precision drumming, a post-millennial Siouxie and the Banshees filtered through Touch & Go's back catalog, their makeup washed off with lighter fluid. Their sophomore release, Hail the Goer, will stand as their definitive mission statement--a deliberate tension-and-release exercise that, of course, should have been on every goth bar DJ's playlist for the past year. I'm pretty sure i've seen gamer nerds, metalheads and science fair enthusiasts unscrewing imaginary light bulbs while dancing to this record, but don't quote me on that.

Then again, "should have" will now be used quite a bit when discussing this band. I have no idea why they're calling it quits, but i know this--with a charismatic lead vocalist, tightly-wound, killer songs, and a record on Jake White's label, We Are Hex should have been on the verge of blowing the fuck up instead of imploding. But if there was ever a band that matched my band's ability to hatefuck Murphy's Law, it was We Are Hex. Every time we got together with these guys, the stories would flow about canceled shows, shady clubs ripping them off, and all sorts of random drama. Heck, very few of their Milwaukee shows were without some incident or another.

In Spring 2009 they played Frank's Power Plant with The New Loud and us during that period where the club's owner was getting noise complaints from some asshat neighbors. Soon, the owner was yelling at Hex and telling them they couldn't use their full stacks and would have to borrow gear or not play the show. The band was ready to say "fuck it" and bail before we calmed the owner down enough to remind her that amps have these things called "volume knobs" that can turn the loud boom sounds down if necessary. They, of course, went on to stomp everyone's teeth in that night.

November of last year we brought them to town at Stonefly with our labelmates Trophy Wives. In classic HiFi hometown fashion, no one came to the show save about 15 of our best friends, who can now rub it in to everyone else in Milwaukee that they saw one of the most exciting sets to be played in our city last year, and everyone else missed it, so screw y'all. On top of the low attendance, the "sound guy" took all the money from the door for his "fee," a fitting reward for the bang-up job he did setting up barely audible vocal mics and one kick drum mic.

So if We Are Hex finally ran into one obstacle too many, i suppose i can't blame them for packing it in, although part of me hopes that they looked at the news articles about Jack White working with ICP and thought, "wait, we're gonna be labelmates with Insane Clown Posse? Fuck this, we're done."

In any event, if i know Jilly just a little bit after ten years, i know she'll be back at it with something new and perhaps even more exciting than We Are Hex, and honestly, i'm a little scared of what that could entail.

In the meantime, let's have a wake. Go to the We Are Hex Bandcamp site and listen to their debut, Gloom Bloom, the aforementioned Hail the Goer, and a few other choice treats. Chances are you screwed up and missed seeing them live; make up for it by at least discovering them posthumously, since that's apparently all we've got left.

"Thunderstorms and Car Accidents" Tour '11: Part 6 - Philly Redeemed

No, but seriously, thunderstorms and car accidents have been following us everywhere on this tour. We drove past the worst wreck we've seen yet on our way to the Danger Danger Gallery in Philly: car completely flipped; telephone pole cracked in half about 20 feet in the air, top half dangling in wires; 35 MPH zone. Someone needs to do an expose on city drag racing, i think--that shit's making a crazy mad comeback.

PREVIOUSLY ON "IFIHADAHIFI VS. PHILADELPHIA:"

We had an OK show in Philly in 2006 when we played a house venue called The Big Pink House (although we severely dropped the ball that night when, after two weeks of making John Mellencamp jokes, we opted for MotownPhilly jokes EVEN THOUGH WE WERE IN A PINK HOUSE), but our 2008 show in Philly with White Wrench Conservatory was a nightmare. Not only did we get to sit in a bar called The Fire and watch CC Sabathia get positively shelled by the Phillies during the Brewers' first playoff series since 1982, but then no one in the bar hopped across to the band room to watch us. We ended up playing in front of two of Dixie's friends, and that was it.

So we weren't all that thrilled to have to try to book a Philly show on this tour, and did all we could to avoid it. But our friend in Lancaster wasn't able to close a deal for us, and so, out of desperation, i emailed Danger Danger, a gallery that had never returned my emails in years previous. This time, however, they responded (!), and invited us to play their big anniversary benefit party to raise money for the gallery. Unfortunately, it being a benefit, it meant that touring bands would get no money out of the door, and we'd have to rely on merch sales. Having no other options and realizing that probably most all-ages kids in the area would be there, we agreed and decided to hope for the best.

Amazingly, we got pretty close. After a pair of, shell we say, more "sensitive" musical sets in the basement room of the gallery, HiFi set up and prepared to give these kids a good old-fashioned punk rock kick in the teeth. The venue did a great job of herding the audience into the room where the next band was playing, and--TAKE A LESSON FROM THIS, NASHVILLE--the kids were actively engaged with what was going on, which was excellent. I opened our set with a "We're IfIHadAHiFi from Milwaukee, Wisconsin. We're a dance band. That's a hint, and you should take it," and launched into "Paulding Light." Yale kicked his stage antics into overdrive and we blasted those kids to the back of the room, much to their delight based on the loud, enthusiastic response. As all sets were limited to 25 minutes, we made sure to pack them with only the most crucial party jamz.

SET LIST: Paulding/Arson/Imperial Walker/Pot. Energy/Black Holes/Success

Zebras had an equally exuberant audience, including the occasional three-person circle pit during the more speedy numbers like "Me U God" and "Wiener Kids." All in all, these kids redeemed Philly in our eyes as a town where the kids know what's up.

HiFi managed to sell about $18 in merch, of which we proceeded to spend $12 upon our return to the previously lamented Fire. Our labelmates Trophy Wives were playing there and we not only wanted to see some solid bros in the middle of tour, but we wanted to help fill the room for them, because of course, based on our sample data of one weeknight show with no local band, shows at The Fire never draw. As it turns out, they had a few people there ("about...twelve?" their singer Billy estimated outside the venue), but we did a solid job of beefing up the attendance with our seven bodies (six of us and one Marissa Berlin). The TWives blasted through an as-usual killer set of tunes from their just-out-now-on-Latest-Flame record Old Scratch and handily dealt with a drunk Yale screaming at them to play a Wipers cover that they've forgotten. Post-show, Yale spied Billy by the side entrance and said "I'm gonna go punch him," to which i responded, "yes, that's a great idea. Punch Billy," knowing that Billy, being a man-mountain cross between an Appalachian pro wrestler and a bear, would be more than capable of ending that encounter like it was one of those "Messin' with Sasquatch" beef jerky ads. All Billy did, though, was ignore Yale and calmly walk into the bar, letting the door slam shut behind him while Yale drunkenly bellowed "BILLY I'M GOING TO PUNCH YOU!" Hilarity.

A recount of this evening would not be complete without a salutation to the fabulous Michael Markowski, who bought us all dinner at a killer pizza place/brewery across from Danger Danger, and filmed our performance. Another above and beyond gesture of graciousness from another awesome tour pal.

We are currently chilling in Marissa's parents' palatial estate, which is large enough to have me convinced that they are Hank Scorpio-level supervillains. A Jacuzzi tub? A shower with two heads? COME ON! Our hotel room at the Marriott was less luxurious.