In an act of unparalleled musical terrorism, San Diego bands Transfer and Family Wagon reduced local music venue the Casbah to rubble, broken glass and flailing limbs Saturday night. The bands, joined by Oakland’s Mister Loveless and local band the New Kinetics, descended upon the helpless venue with serious megatons of sonic fury and gnarly weapons of mass distortion. Not a single eardrum survived the melee.

This writer arrived in time to see Family Wagon take the stage, and was consequently blown back several yards by the band’s sheer intensity. Heel tapping and head bobbing kicked in by themselves, defying any attempt to stop them. Before long the scene was one of total annihilation of any people looking bored or not acting completely rowdy and riled up. Lead singer Calen Lucas made a performance out of flipping out righteously and crushing any semblance of sanity, and bassist Gareth Moore’s hair became the 6th member of the band as he redefined the motion ranges humans are capable of while holding a mahogany log. CDs were sold and stickers were passed out.

Transfer took what was left of the place and utterly smashed it with their set, which was part loud, electric fury, part intense vocal power, and part frightening volume levels. Besides their obviously high-impact stage show, their songs are extremely catchy and somewhat sing-along-able, unless one is stunned into silence as was the case with “White Horse” and “Wake to Sleep.” Listening to those is similar to standing in the middle of a hurricane while demons scream at you and pound on your head with giant drumsticks. The experience was traumatically awesome.

Acknowledgement of Long Delay in Posting

Seeing as it has been a little while (around 2 ½ years, give or take) since I have posted anything here, it really took an event of this magnitude to spark things up. To keep it short and sweet, the impetus here is two bands.

Transfer: The indie band you actually want to hear even though you know they’re an indie band

Take everything people don’t like about indie bands, throw it into a garbage bag and toss it into the cement bed of the LA river, because sometimes indie bands can be powerful, confident and put together. And no, they’re not venturing into lame underground hip-hop or being produced by Timbaland. Listen to this song, this song, and especially this song, and see whether you agree they may have the force to drive music blogs back into publication.

Go drool on their Facebook page

Family Wagon: The indie band that sort of makes you want to try shooting Southern Comfort

I have been acquainted with this southern-style rock band for roughly 40 hours, but I have faith they will be on your TV on a late-night show within a year or so, and will one day become one of those bands that headlines for an act they once opened for, causing all of their fans to exuberantly recount their rise to glory, a la those kids from Detroit Rock City. That’s because aside from their music being fun and loud, their stage presence ensures it is cheerfully rammed through your brain, with a toothy grin and a “you’re welcome, ma’am.”

Loiter menacingly on their Facebook page

Stay tuned for more rants, stale news, and unfounded musical armchair analysis. The ship has left port once again.

Check out this new video, featuring a guy who looks a lot like Christian Bale and a song that sounds a lot like the Talking Heads’ “This Must Be The Place.” This makes me very happy.

Directed by the same guy who made this random, funny squirrel video and a bunch of other cool stuff. I’d say he has a future ahead of him.

I got home at 1 am Thursday morning knowing I had to wake up in five hours, and the tinnitus roaring in my ears could probably have woken up the neighbors then and there. But I was extremely, utterly, brazenly happy.

I had just seen the Smashing Pumpkins live at the Viper Room. One of the most scarce, long-shot bands that also happened to define half of my generation’s high school, college and post-college experience had played less than 20 feet from me in a venue the size of a large studio apartment. There are a handful of lifetime events I decided long ago were essential in order for me to die happy, and this one just got slammed out of the park.

After making the crowd wait about three hours (except the die-hards who had been posted up outside since 7 am), The Corgan and ensemble trickled up the left side of the crowd and onto the stage, where they started up a feedback frenzy that could best be described as very fucking loud. (This is where the aforementioned tinnitus kicked in.) Corgan wore a thin, dark, long-sleeved shirt reading NATURE, which recalled his trademark ZERO shirt and made everyone feel back home in 1996. His head glistened like a well-polished agate.
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The one with the wicked chops.

That was a shocker.

A musician I hadn’t thought about in 10 years or so, except while briefly remembering high school as I thumbed through my CD collection, died last night of heart failure at age 48.

Even though I lost track of Type O Negative shortly after World Coming Down, hearing about Steele’s death was a little like hearing about one of your favorite countries being bombed, or finding out the college pizza place you spent all your time in closed down. Hearing he was 48 was a little weird, too — I’d always thought that guy had to be immortal or something.

The 6 -foot-7 bass player and lead singer was originally named Petrus T. Ratajczyk, hailed from Brooklyn, was a control freak, and had a baritone voice that could be mistaken for a bus driving by. Rumors of his death circulated in 2005, but it was found to be a publicity stunt related to the band’s signing to a new label. He also apparently posed in Playgirl as another stunt. Fascinating.

Not having the time to write a proper post just now, I’ll refer you to the stories written by NY Daily News and Rolling Stone.

You can also read the mournful posts on the band’s Myspace page, or visit their forums, where I’m sure some asshole will stir up shit eventually.

RIP, Steele.

Malcolm McLaren, the producer and band manager known for being the brains behind the Sex Pistols and the New York Dolls, died of cancer this morning in New York. He was 64.

McLaren gained notoriety after the Sex Pistols single “God Save the Queen” was banned in 1977 by the BBC and the Independent Broadcasting Authority, yet still managed to reach number 2 in the UK charts. He is also known for projects such as his solo albums Duck Rock and Waltz Darling, as well as his Zombies/Esther Bigeou collage “About Her,” from the soundtrack of Quentin Tarantino’s Kill Bill 2.

More about his intriguing life story can be found in the links below:

The Independent

Rolling Stone

Arts Beat

The Village Voice

Preface: Since I haven’t had time to write anything in quite a while (try maintaining your music blog as an LA career-type whose spare time can be measured in half-seconds), here’s a re-post of an article I penned for Cinema Blend, back when — well, back when I wrote for them. Enjoy.

We know about physical, people-type overpopulation. That’s when there are too many new neighbors moving in all at once – then their cars use up all the convenient street parking, grassy fields turn into slum hives, and suddenly one-bedroom apartments with no washer or dryer rent for 1,700 a month.

Well, as you might have guessed, the same thing can happen in music. It’s what happens when too many indie rock bands form all at the same time, and with all the same ideas. What logically follows is a phenomenon pretty nicely stated as rock-overpopulation, or to be more succinct, “overrockulation.” When overrockulation occurs, bands start elbowing each other off the good rock real estate by using up all of the good riffs, taking all the cool styles, and – in the most prominent and embarrassing manifestation – taking all the good band names. What’s left behind are the cardboard-shack and overpass-tent band names, the 12-syllable fixer-uppers that are so far out there it’s impossible to imagine moving into one by choice. It’s a shameful degradation.
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This new video, just released by Chicago natives and current LA transplants OK Go, will put a cinch in the underpants of anyone who likes high-school science experiments, paintball, the game Mousetrap, or this video of a Cadbury Creme Egg getting smashed.

“This Too Shall Pass” is currently making the rounds, astonishing even the most stoic indie kids. Watch and be awed.

P.S.: You might also like this version, filmed live with the Notre Dame Marching Band. Collegiate.

Fans of Hollywood indie outfit Red Arrow Messenger have something else to look forward to besides the band’s melodic folk-pop, tight three-part harmonies and awe-inspiring stage presence. Every Monday in February the band is hosting a free variety show-style concert featuring favorite local bands, comedians, magic, food, and even a much-anticipated laser light show.

The February 1 show featured a magician escaping from a straight jacket (and mystically conjuring a pair of chickens), a stand-up comedy act, a self-photography setup, and the musical stylings of Last American Buffalo along with the dark, velvety croon of All Wrong and the Plans Change. With this Monday’s bill featuring tribal-tronic two-piece Rumspringa and oldies-inspired Jenny O, it’s pretty much guaranteed to meet or exceed the mark, whatever else the band has up its sleeve. (I hear it’s barbecue.)

The audio-visual (and nutritional) smorgasbord takes place at the Bootleg Theater in Echo Park, starting at 8 pm. Everyone gets in the door free, and beer and wine is relatively cheap.

Update: The Feb. 8 show was even more awesome than the last one. It featured two hilarious stand-up comedians (taking on religion and alternative porn), the timeline-spanning music of Jenny O, the two-piece jungle-jamming of Rumspringa, and (finally) the much-hyped laser light show — which consisted of fog, darkness, mirrored surfaces and a bunch of tiny laser pointers distributed to the crowd. Speaking of low-budget ingenuity.

The band was giving away their EP, fans were slurping up Jell-o shots in the back, and I got some video that will find its way online soon.

Next Monday: The February 15 show will feature He’s My Brother, She’s My Sister and Maxim Ludwig, plus whatever else the band has planned. (This time, barbecue for sure.)

Bootleg Theater:
2220 Beverly Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90057
(213) 389-3856

If it’s possible for band to be sainted, Radiohead is trying hard.

The band (Namely Phil) announced they’re playing a Haiti benefit show Sunday, January 24, at 7 pm at the Henry Fonda Theater in Los Angeles. Tickets are being auctioned on Ticketmaster in order to raise as much money as possible — which means you’ll be spending a lot. However, all proceeds are going to the Oxfam Haiti relief fund, and since the band is currently in the midst of recording their next album, it also means you could be treated to some new, un-rehearsed material. Radiohead on the raw is a rare thing indeed.

The ticket auction started today (January 21) at 8 pm PST, and will run until Saturday January 23 at 11 pm. Visit Radiohead’s site for details.

Whatever happens in 2010 — whether it be a massive earthquake that sinks California, a tidal wave that washes out everything on the eastern seaboard, or a horrendous new trend whereby everyone tries to become a vampire (oh crap, that’s already happening) — at least there will be these seven albums. In order of anticipation (I suspect), here are the seven most conniption-inducing albums expected in 2010.

MGMT
Title? Congratulations
When, son? Spring
What gives: After selling over a million copies of their electro-psychedelic debut Oracular Spectacular, Ben Goldwasser and Andrew VanWyngarden’s next release is the result of the band’s coping with the craziness of their new success. Their well-intended (read: crazy) idea is to release an album with no radio-friendly singles, in hopes of people actually listening to the whole thing rather than just downloading two tracks to play in their Scions. Though this will likely result in their label asking them to go back into the studio (d’oh), we hope them the best. It also purportedly involves more guitars, which is always a good thing.

Hole
Title? Nobody’s Daughter
When, son? Undecided.
What gives: With the origins of Courtney Love’s albums as buried in speculation as she herself is in media scat, this one is starting to look no different. There is talk of using material recorded during her stint working with Billy Corgan (responsible for songwriting contributions to Celebrity Skin), as well as songwriting from 4 Non Blondes front woman Linda Perry. Still, with what she’s capable of when not wasted, it may have potential. The album’s release will be accompanied by a tour, during which the live performances will sound nothing like the recordings.
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