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<managingEditor>jake@indieworkshop.com</managingEditor><item><title>Melvins + Big Business</title><link>http://www.indieworkshop.com/articles.php?id=359</link><description><![CDATA[Melvins + Big Business
The Big Easy, Spokane, WA

I wasn't sure if I'd feel like writing tonight. But since I'm sitting out here on the street armed with only a notepad and a crumpled ticket, I guess I probably should. I should also mention that I've been slurping on cans of Icehouse deuce-fours. The sun is shining, but it has cooled off considerably tonight. It seems that Fall is smothering Summer in a rust colored blanket. I tug at my black hooded sweatshirt and watch a fat girl across the streetlight a cigarette. Man, that girl is large. I hate Spokane. Not because of the fat women, though that might be part of it. I just have this vague feeling of disdain when I hang out in town. A lot of people that live here are transplants, but the ones who were born and raised in Spokane are complete idiots. I'm not kidding. Fucking hicks with a big city attitude. Seattle's inbred cousin.

I'm curious to see how many kids show up for this one. The last time I was at the Big Easy it was to see Built to Spill and that was almost a year ago. Spokane gets, like, 3 good shows a year and this is one of them. How many Sevendust tee shirt wearin' longhairs will I have to wade through to catch a glimpse of the sweet Melvs? Have you heard that they went and swallowed up the fellas from BIG BUSINESS? They also have a new album coming out in October. You should buy it when it comes out. It's really good. I've been listening to it a lot lately, although right now I'm listening to TV on the Radio's new one. If you don't have it yet, you should buy that one too. They are sooooo hot right now. I heard they were on Letterman the other night.

So I think I've seen the Melvins too many times to count. Seriously. I've been going to their shows for the better part of the last decade. In that time, I've never walked out of a Melvins show feeling cheated. Even when they were doing their noise set a few years back. This was when Buzz would sway back in forth in front of his amp like a man possessed and drone on and on with the feedback and delay pedals for twenty minutes or more. They would always finish off the set with fan faves like Honey Bucket, Queen and The Bit.  I'm wondering if they'll just give these Spokane fucks the middle finger and dive into Colossus of Destiny. Either way, I would be happy.

OK, I'm going to go pee behind that green dumpster and then head inside.

I'm in, and definitely surprised by the lack of people here. I grab another beer back at the bar and pull up a stool biding my time before things get kicked off.  The ambient sounds wafting from the stage certainly are creepy. It sounds like a robot rubbing one out on a copper plate of electric eels. Twenty minutes of this passes and then the BIG BIZ bros. take the stage to a half empty room. They are greeted with somewhat enthusiastic applause and launch into their opening song. Jared, the bass player formerly of KARP, lays down a thick slab of fuzz while Coady counters with his unique brand of elastic drumming. I seriously forgot how good of a drummer he is. I remember seeing Murder City Devils a long time ago, and his playing was much more subdued in those days. I mean he was still really good, but the music didn't really call for him to go nuts like he does in BIG BUSINESS.

Jared looks like a mini Buzzo with his brown mumu and large hair. Several songs into the BIG BUSINESS set, a bloated Dale Crover makes his way to the stage with a golden Les Paul. Dale hammers on a few chords and displays some fancy finger work, his wispy hair bobbing to and fro offering mildly interesting results. After a few more BIZ songs, my focus is waning because the sound kinda sucks, so I head closer to the stage. It turns out I'm just in time, as Dale has snuck behind his kit and Buzzo is finally emerging from the shadows. Before anyone has time to realize it, the Melvins show is beginning.

The now four piece collective launches into the opener from (a) Senile Animal, The Talking Horse. From this point on, it's all about the drums. I ain't kidding. Seeing two of the best drummers in rock square off against one another is something wonderful. The songs that follow span the entire Melvins catalog reaching as far back as Oven from the Gluey Porch Treatments record. Other highlights include Set Me Straight, Hooch, Let It All Be and a healthy dose of new material from their upcoming album. Leaving little space between songs, we hardly have a chance to shout our praises before the band careens into the next song.  But then again, it's not about us. It's about the music, man.

After barreling through roughly twenty songs, the Melvins end on Lovely Butterfly, a choice pick from the Honky album. Slathered in fuzzed-out bass and boorish vocals, the song ends with a large drum solo that leaves a shit eating grin stretched all the way across my face. I have to say; at this point I could listen to Dale and Coady bang away at their kits all night long. You will also want to see Dale and Coady bang away at their kits all night long. So go buy a ticket if they haven't already passed through your town. The Melvins have been around for a long time, but they won't be around forever.]]></description><author>tylerbotts78@hotmail.com (Tyler Botts)</author><pubDate>2006-09-27</pubDate></item><item><title>Four Track Mind #1 - Part 10</title><link>http://www.indieworkshop.com/articles.php?id=358</link><description><![CDATA[
Billy Joe Shaver made me cry again. Every time I have ever seen him play live he does this to me. Billy writes some of the best gospel songs you'll ever hear and early on in his show he explained why. "Every coin has two sides and I am one coin". Billy is a Christian. If you hang around his show long enough and make it through all the off color jokes , toilet humor and jive he will get onto the subject of Jesus. Billy at one point in his life tried to rid the world of beer and blow. Two sides, one coin. Not in any yin to yang sort of bullcrap way, just a complete picture. We have pointed out here before that mainstream Gospel is so bad because it details a concept of perfection, it only shows one side of the coin and not the relationship between the two sides. Which brings drama, reflection and illumination. You know what all good songs are made of.

I think about this and write about this a-lot because I play rock n roll in music city U.S. of A and I am also in the heart of Dove Bar awarded GMA rolled out schlock.  They call them Dove Bars don't they? I'll tell you again why, if we see church music as God's music and the rest as the devil's music then it implies that the whole of secular music is Godless. This is wrong. God is all over all music. Maybe not Norwegian Death Metal. Really, because if there is such a thing as music influenced solely by the devil then it would be this. I'm thinking of the stuff where they claim they are playing the devil's music and they burn churches to the ground in Holland. Whatever that stuff is might be a candidate. Do not mistake the devil is real. The Louvin's were damn straight on that joint. O.K. I'm feeling church lady ish again.

As you may have guessed from our last installment (The Twilight Singers as Gospel band-they just played Tel Aviv, Israel and covered "Amazing Grace") I like to argue perhaps even some of the pulpits most obvious choices for condemnation may actually bear some fruit of the spirit. Eminem for example. In the final scene of 8 Mile he does exactly what God wants to do for you. He acknowledges all of his shame and brings his sins and failings to the light and in doing so cripples and destroys his enemies. This is, other than shock value in the "oh I can't believe he just said that" sense-that makes his art work. To be sure he may not repent but he definitely names his sins which is more than a-lot of pop gospel will do. The best part of the movie "Walk the Line" is when the Capitol Record exec tells Johnny he can't go sing in a prison because his fans are good Christian people. Johnny smirks "Maybe they aren't good Christian people."

I was at a bar the other night talking to a friend who is a songwriter/bass player/producer. At one point he was a gospel writer. He plays on stuff you have heard. Trust me. He told me if you wrote a song with any doubt, or if you did and did not wrap it all up in a nice bow by the end of the song then you were out. You were a turncoat. This is part of what hurts Christianity's appeal to people. They feel like they cannot live up to the perfection. But that is not what the Bible is asking them but it is what pop gospel is.

The best song I have ever heard in church was the last time I was in
Philadelphia. "Lord, I'm your bride and I been cheatin' on You". This church was hip. The second best church music I ever saw was in Franklin, TN. It was like U2. It was anthemic. The guitars were big. The guy was no Bono but he did alright. He was John Mayer lite. But as far as music in church goes this is pretty awesome. Outside of church Billy Joe Shaver does the best gospel music of anyone I've ever seen. We went to see Billy at the Opry Plaza Party here a few days ago. The Plaza Party is a free concert series that the Opry puts on through the summer. I've seen Billy Joe do this about 4 times now. It's on a stage in an open area between the Opryland Opry and Opry Mills Mall. Shopping and Hank Williams impersonators. It's fun. I always go see Billy Joe because I love his writing and his spirit. Billy Joe Shaver writes love songs without anger or bitterness and drinking songs that make you feel like you were there with him, but enough about this. Billy Joe Shaver writes bad ass gospel songs like "Jesus Christ, What a Man." I remember while we are watching Billy Joe and he introduced a song about his. His son was killed by a drug overdose. Billy talks about this in the movie "The Legend of Billy Joe". Furthermore he talks about forgiving the people who were a part of the night his son died. Watching this and watching him relate these stories with peace and calm and of all things love makes a man's lower lip quiver.  It's this and the fact that he shouts, "If you don't believe in Jesus then you can go to hell", like he is your best friend and hot on the heels of singing "When the word was Thunderbird" as in wine, not grape juice. Billy plays a few serious songs and says, "Don't worry we'll get back to the sinin" and then launch into a honky tonk barn burner that makes you feel like you could drink gas. After an hour or so he always comes around to his testimony and it always gives me chills. Redolent, loving chills.

I'm sitting in the crowd before the show, this guy comes over to his wife, mom, friend can't tell. This little kid walked up to Billy, Billy asked the kid if he'd pray for him. The kid looked at his dad. His dad said, you say "yes sir." The kid said he would. Billy said "always ask kids to pray for you, God listens to kids."]]></description><author>jake@indieworkshop.com (Jake Haselman)</author><pubDate>2006-09-25</pubDate></item><item><title>Top 50 Album Openers - 10 - 1</title><link>http://www.indieworkshop.com/articles.php?id=357</link><description><![CDATA[



10. My Name is Jonas – Weezer (Blue Album)

Man, how far have these guys fallen?  When they first hit the scene in 1994 they seemed like the mop-headed saviors of pop/rock.  Time has proven that they (or Rivers) only had two good albums in them before the wheels came completely off… might have something to do with Matt Sharp leaving too… but who knows.  Either way, the opening track to their debut album was glorious and foreign to my teenage mind.  It didn't fallow the rules as I knew them for a pop song.  It wasn't cased in easy to swallow gel-coating, it was an odd mixture of quickly plucked acoustic guitars and full forced waves of fuzzy guitars.  It was straightforward drumming and thick-as-paste bass lines.  And to top it all off, the unique and oddly soothing voice of Rivers Cuomo.  It was different, it was original… and then it was copied by every geeky doof with a guitar for years to come. – Jake Haselman 


9. First Breath After Coma - Explosions in the Sky (The Earth is Not a Cold Dead Place) 
	
I first have to tip my hat to Explosions in the Sky for giving this song its title.  When those first few picks ring out in the early seconds of The Earth is Not a Cold Dead Place, the first thing I picture is a closed eye suddenly opening accompanied by a waking gasp.  At times this song is lifting, at other times it's grounding, it has so many effects on you, you can't help but stay glued to your headphones.  This song paved the way for a record that made almost anyone's top ten list of 2003 and still remains in my rotation to this day.  – Phil Del Costello



8. Wouldn't It Be Nice - Beach Boys (Pet Sounds) 

If you were (or are) an abstinent, conservative youth, this would be your theme song. Keeping in step with Brian Wilson was never an easy task for many, yet the opening track from Pet Sounds proved beyond a doubt that he had uncovered a gold mine of pop lushness. Nothing quite like it had ever been released before. Certainly, the drugs helped, but to churn out something that's struck a bass chord somewhere deep in the recesses of so many generations speaks volumes about the talent behind this dusty track one groove. – Paul Bredenburg



7. Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N' Roses (Appetite for Destrustion)

I mean, come on.  This song, hell, this ALBUM changed the face of the West Coast's thriving hard rock scene.  When every other big hair band was putting on make up and playing pretty for the cameras, Axl Rose and the rest of Guns N' Roses knocked down the door to their fairytale sexcapades, bringing in the streetwalkers, heroin addicts and fistfuls of Jack Daniels.   And thanks to that channel that used to play music videos, G N' R also scared the crap out of a nation full of parents who weren't aware of how the other side of the tracks lived out their nights. This is the ultimate in 'strap-yourself-in' opening tracks. – Jake Haselman  


6.  Like a Rolling Stone - Bob Dylan (Highway 61 Revisited)
	
It took Dylan 6 and one-half minutes to change the shape of popular music and he did it with one of the most vitriolic, chest-pounding songs.  Gone is the Dylan of ‘Blowing in the Wind' and the Greenwich Village folkie.  Here was a young man who was disillusioned by phonies and hangers-on. He managed to put all of his emotion into one rollicking song.  Like a Rolling Stone is said to have begun with lyrics that stretched 20 pages and borrows from Muddy Waters, Hank Williams, and, according to Dylan, Ritchie Valens.  It may be about Edie Sedgewick, it may be the leftist folk-movement, and it may just be about himself.  The truly amazing thing is that this is only the first song on an album that would challenge just about every popular music performer to come afterwards. – Travis Hutzell


5. Only Shallow - My Bloody Valentine (Loveless)

When my brother found out I didn't own Loveless nearly six years ago, he took me to our favorite record shop, grabbed the CD, and brought it to the front of the store. When he was asked if it was for him, he immediately called out his "idiot brother" and everyone had a good laugh. Except me. We got in the car and he said, "This is the best first note ever, as long as it's loud enough." And it was. From the first spec of hazy distortion on Only Shallow, Loveless is encapsulating in its effervescence and subduing in its warmth. So turn up your stereos. – Chris Gaerig



4. Black Dog – Led Zeppelin (IV)

While it may be one of the most overplayed albums on classic rock radio today, Led Zeppelin's fourth album, released in 1971, is the Godfather of its genre. Its opener, Black Dog, starts the launch sequence in every possible way. From Robert Plant's first holler of "Hey Hey Mama…" the song is both raw and complex, sexual foreplay in and of itself.  That this mysterious untitled album would become one of the top selling albums of all time is actually no mystery. Just listen to that opening line over and over… - Steph Haselman



3. Astral Weeks - Van Morrison (Astral Weeks)

At the tender age of 23, Van Morrison recorded what is a near perfect album. Kicking it off, the title track lushly rains wheat field guitars, Morrison's wild voice, and ethereal flutes for over 7 minutes. A miniature, but overwhelming orchestra, flirts with the other instruments as the songs rises and dips effortlessly like some sort of sped-up celestial calendar. As a flourishing violin brings the song to a close, Morrison's voice hangs behind, softly singing, "In another time, in another place." Such is the environment in which this song (and justifiably the entire album) rests, completely beyond anything before or after. When it is all finished, 8 songs and 46 minutes later, there is only one option: press play again. – Darren Susin


2. Silence Kit - Pavement (Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain)

Silence Kit is Pavement personified. All their shambolic wit and subversive anti-instrumentalism is jammed together and squashed uncomfortably till it turns magically into a classic pop song. Stephen Malkmus's yelping is restrained just enough to wrangle out a beautiful melody and the mashed guitars combine miraculously to carve the weirdest and most backwards harmonies imaginable. 'Come on now, taaaaalk about yer faaamly…' is a particularly lovable yelp that will stay with you permanently. 'Silence Kit' is what people mean when they talk about 'the Pavement sound', completely deranged but making the most sense possible from a pop band. – Daniel Ross


1. Cherub Rock – Smashing Pumpkins (Siamese Dream)

The drum roll that launched one of this generations finest guitar rock albums.  It might not be the hippest choice for a publication that has the word "indie" in the title… but you can't deny this track.  Like most of the other music loving high school freshman in 1993, I wasn't immersed in underground music.  But I was about to have my mind blown by a Chicago foursome with a simple but powerful open to their second album.  When that drum roll starts everyone knows what's coming next.  Then the guitars quietly introduce some melody and build until the distortion pedal is practically BEGGING to be stomped on.  The 4:58 song not only serves as a perfect opener, but it also typifies a whole genre and moment in time.  – Jake Haselman  


| 50 - 41 | | 40 - 31 | | 30 - 21 |  | 20 - 11 |  | 10 - 1 |]]></description><author>jake@indieworkshop.com (Jake Haselman)</author><pubDate>2006-09-22</pubDate></item><item><title>Top 50 Album Openers - 20 - 11</title><link>http://www.indieworkshop.com/articles.php?id=356</link><description><![CDATA[



20. Two of Us - The Beatles (Let It Be) 

Let it Be was the only Beatles record that I didn't fall in love with immediately. That's why it's so great. It takes a little while to let the genius of this record seep in. And Two of Us, with its country-western feel and lyrics about two friends reminiscing about their long life together, was a wonderful way to kick it off. According to lore, it originally began as a rocker. It was written for Paul's wife Linda, though it sounds at times as if it is addressing John Lennon, whose relationship with Paul was tense at that time. The song lost its rock leanings as Paul worked out the composition. It also features some of the sweetest vocal harmonies Paul and John ever created. – Jason Hancock



19. Astronomy Domine - Pink Floyd (The Piper at the Gates of Dawn)

People will get on my case if I write some cliché about how the first track on Pink Floyd's first album is fitting because it is a song about space by a space-rock band.  The bottom line is, even though most of this startlingly captivating record is filled with Syd Barrett's whimsically bent nursery-rhyme tales, this entry point is what really first lures you into their world.  It's also a (all-to brief) glimpse of what post-Barrett Floyd would immediately latch on to: epic-sounding, mood-specific textures, and unhinged exploration. This isn't simply a stunning album opener, but a great career opener as well.  And the bottom line is, they couldn't have picked a more appropriate song for the dawning of that journey. – Robert Ferdman


18. Untitled - Interpol (Turn On The Bright Lights)

OK, this isn't a very IW choice. And the fact that the rest of the album is pretty much swill doesn't elevate it any further. But the opener on Turn On The Bright Lights is one of those songs that fills the room at any volume. When the bass and drums crash in after the jangly guitar riff is established, it is akin to the complete refreshment of jumping in a warm swimming pool. The nasal voice doesn't cloy either, instead adding a touch of needed swagger and poise to the strikingly satisfying riff. It's so dark, it's so NY, it's so good for a melancholy hangover. – Daniel Ross



17. Then Comes Dudley - The Jesus Lizard (Goat)

This may be The Jesus Lizards third record, but for those uninitiated with the band, this is where you start. And when you here the lurching bass line and powerful drums the moment you hit play, you'll know why. Everything about this song fits perfectly together, an ideal blend of David Wm. Sims' bass, Mac McNeilly's drums and Duane Denison's guitar. And when David Yow's drunken yelp enters the picture, you have quintessential Jesus Lizard. The song also shows off the perfect confluence of a band and its engineer, who not surprisingly is Steve Albini. – Jason Hancock



16. White Light/White Heat - Velvet Underground (White Light/White Heat)  

Three minutes of pure garage buzz that starts off all innocent boogie and turns into an atonal drone-fest.  Only in New York, people, only with the Velvet Underground.  Pianos crash out chords and the guitar sounds like a strangled ostrich.  About two minutes the band picks a not and settles on it, pounding away with both fury and perverse pleasure, inverting the tools of Bo Diddley and Chuck Berry and turning them into weapons and drugs.  Of course, the song is about Amphetamine Sulphate, a popular drug with the in crowd, and it's the same up-tempo and oppressively fast 'speedy' feeling that punk rock picked up on in the late 70's, but this was '68, Lou Reed was the only punk who wasn't in jail, and rock music, still so young, was being reinvented all over again. – Geddes Gengres


15. Little Dipper – Hum (You'd Prefer an Astronaut)

This was it for me.  Many people can point to one or two albums that had the most effect on them during their formidable listening years… and this is mine.  Many, many nights were spent with my patch-work stereo system (complete with salvaged speakers from the 70's with blown cones that I had to tape up with masking tape to keep from buzzing) and this album.  I would turn off all the lights, sit on the couch, and let the sound wash over me.  Hum was my gateway into shoegazer, and "Little Dipper" was the greatest drug I've ever taken.  Glacier like in movement, this four and a half minute song shows the damage that can be done with a loud guitar a keen sense of pop melody.  My Bloody Valentine might have been here first, but Hum infused it with pop like melody and blew some minds. – Jake Haselman  


14. Human Behavior - Björk (Debut)

Coming off of her critically acclaimed excursions with the Sugarcubes, Björk had something to live up to. And something to say. Ten albums, four live discs, and countless other remixes and b-sides later, I think it's safe to say she got her point across. And not just because she's totally hot. But, first impressions can be a career-breaker. And "Human Behavior" is no exception. Easily one of her most sprawling pop tracks (and obviously one of her fans' favorites), it started off her first solo effort Debut with a swift kick to the face … with a smile. Kind of like that reporter. – Chris Gaerig



>13. Sitting On the Dock of The Bay - Otis Redding (The Dock of The Bay)

Fuck openers. Has there ever been a song that more precisely details the loneliness, hopelessness, and general malaise of the American dream? Hell, American life? Otis travels west (2000 miles more specifically), sets up shop on a dock and sits there to watch the waves. Why? Because nothing is going his way. And nothing is going to change. Land of opportunity? Western frontier? Otis knows: The West is the same as the East is the same as the South. But wherever you're from, you can relate. – Chris Gaerig



12. Rocks Off - The Rolling Stones (Exile on Main Street)

Here is an idea.  Let's get the Rolling Stones in a hot room, have everyone play at once, and fade the vocals in and out like a drunk is running the soundboard?  What sounds like a disaster is really the trademark for the loose, dirty, and classic Rolling Stones album, Exile on Main Street.  The best thing about the Stones is that despite being one of the biggest bands of the time, they were still making music like raunchy juveniles.  This song, about what sounds like the inability to, um, achieve satisfaction, kicks off a double LP of shit-scraping blues and does not get enough credit for being just about as punk as it gets. – Travis Hutzell


11. Prayer to god - Shellac (1,000 Hurts) 

After leading off their second album, Terraform, with the twelve-minute, two note epic 'Didn't We Deserve A Look At The Way You Really Are...' Shellac decides to bust out on 1,000 Hurts lead track with two minutes and fifty seconds of three-chord rock.  Well, actually, it's more like 2:28 once you get past the spoken intro that regales the interested listener with advice like "set reproducer for reference levels" (dude, my ipod doesn't have a reproducer), but lest you think they went spoken-word on you, don't forget this is Shellac.  Albini's guitar sounds like a grand piano being guillotined every time pick meets strings.  Todd Trainer drums like Lurch from the Adams family, and Bob Weston picks an ascending bass pattern that spirals around it all with his familiar mid-range crunchy sound.  Everything sounds twice as huge on this record, and the band's policy of no overdubs makes every hit scary precise.  Albini, between stabs at his strings, wishes death on an ex lover and her new man, deadpanning "Kill him, fucking kill him, kill him already, kill him" for the last half of the song, taking it from a wish, to a scream, and finally a cruel joke.  Just do yourself a favor and buy it on vinyl.  – Geddes Gengres


| 50 - 41 | | 40 - 31 | | 30 - 21 |  | 20 - 11 |]]></description><author>jake@indieworkshop.com (Jake Haselman)</author><pubDate>2006-09-21</pubDate></item><item><title>Top 50 Album Openers - 30 - 21</title><link>http://www.indieworkshop.com/articles.php?id=355</link><description><![CDATA[


30. The Flames Beyond the Cold Mountain - Mono (You Are There)

I was a little tardy with my first experience with Mono as Walking Cloud and Deep Red Sky…, a few years have passed since that album and now being abreast of all of their previous work, I have to say that You Are There is the crème de la crème.  On Walking Cloud, "Halcyon (Beautiful Days)" hooked me and for a lack of a better term: moved me like no other song had, but then came this song with its flooring first minute and a half before progressing to a long and monumental rise and fall.  Every time I hear this song everything around me seems to slow to a sedated pace, clearing my head and wiping clean the residue and clutter of the absurdly busy life that I wake up to everyday. – Phil Del Costello


29. Ghost Rider - Suicide (Suicide)

Is there any way not to feel like complete shit when listening to Suicide's self-titled debut? There are more desperate screams and barren soundscapes on this one album than in the entire '60s. And it all starts on Ghost Rider. The looped bass and guitar twitches carry you away until you hear, "America, America's killing its youth." And after Alan Vega's squeak turns into a twisting, delayed, battering ram, you realize you're not in Kansas anymore. But Suicide is an amazing album as depressing and downtrodden as it is. If there has to be sadness to experience happiness, be glad that Suicide took care of the sad part. Just Enjoy. – Chris Gaerig


28. Black Sabbath - Black Sabbath (Black Sabbath) 

Black Sabbath invented heaviness in 1970.  It had been hinted at before, by bands like Led Zeppelin, Cream, and Blue Cheer, but nothing really heavy happened until the sludgy shit storm that is 'Black Sabbath, by Black Sabbath, from their debut album Black Sabbath.  It's just that black.  A seemingly endless sample of thunderstorms and church bells gives birth to the GREATEST 3 note guitar riff ever.  EVER! Ozzy cries out for help, begging for someone to save him from the figure in black, but it's too late, his soul is lost, the unbeatable rhythm section launches into the chorus (same as the verse but, you know, louder) and heads all around the world learned to bang. – Geddes Gengres


27.  Every Day I Have the Blues - BB King (Live at The Regal)

BB King gets things started with a barn burner.  Often cited as one of the best live albums ever, Live at The Regal captures King at one of his finest moments.  For a song with such a sad title this is the most up-tempo blues number on the whole album.  It sets the speed and displays the control that King had over his crowd.  The listener is not exactly sure what is going on as the MC announces King and a raging horn section kicks in, but as soon as the first notes are played on Lucille and the tell-tale vibrato is heard, you know that this is the blues.  It is not a dirty blues, or something from the delta (although the roots are always there), this is an urbane, sophisticated blues.  King's band reacts on a dime and his voice climbs easily into falsetto for dramatic effect.  With this track, without question, the King claims his territory and for the rest of the album he rules the stage. – Travis Hutzell


26. Bring Da Ruckus - Wu-Tang Clan (Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers))

What's better than nine reefer addicts from New York with a strange affinity for old kung-fu films? Nine reefer addicts from New York with a strange affinity for old kung-fu films that want to wreck some shit. As our first look at RZA's production style Ghostface's purple-haze flows, and the Clan's sheer dominance of the English language and hip-hop, Bring Da Ruckus told everyone that the Wu-Tang was here and here to stay. So Bring Da Ruckus. You might just like it. – Chris Gaerig




25. I Am Trying To Break Your Heart - Wilco (Yankee Hotel Foxtrot) 

	I wasn't much of a Wilco fan before Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.  I had heard Being There and Summer Teeth quite a few times, but they didn't really stick with me in retrospect, I have no fucking clue what it was that made them uninteresting to me, but at the time, they just didn't do much for me.   When Yankee Hotel Foxtrot came out it immediately gained a load of critical praise from tiny monthly zines to nationally distributed newspapers.  Normally such a widespread praise makes me stray from albums, books and films for a few months, but I jumped right in a picked up a copy.  The first two minutes of "I Am Trying To Break Your Heart" wiped clean my earlier wishy washy opinion of the Midwest collective.  The light acoustic strum begins amidst the  on-going clearing of sonic whirrs, leading into Jeff Tweedy's sleepy voice singing "I'm hiding out in the big city blinking/What was I thinking when I let go of you?"  You usually can't bet on the quality of an album on the first song, but I knew I could bet on YHF being a winner. - Phil Del Costello


24. 3rd Planet - Modest Mouse (The Moon and Antarctica)

3rd Planet was one of the most mature statements from a band who up until that point seemed like angst ridden young upstarts.  Isaac Brock claims his only art is "fucking people over" but this is fake modesty and he certainly knows it.  He compares his blood and the blood of his lover to the Atlantic and ponders his role on this planet.  One can't help but think of William Blake and his ‘heaven in a wildflower' and perceive that this could be just what Modest Mouse is trying to communicate. – Travis Hutzell



23. Blister in the Sun – Violent Femmes (s/t)

1983. Folk-punk. What is folk-punk? And what did it sound like in 1983? I don't know what folk-punk is but this song, the Violent Femmes, and Gordon Gano have come to define it. They probably can't explain it to you either but it happened, developed a cult following and has never gone away. The Violent Femmes first album hit a stride the band would never hit again but that has not lessened its impact. Gano's voice and lyrics embodied adolescent angst and frustration in a way that was good enough for the least of us and its first track, Blister in the Sun, is perhaps the most well known of the twelve distinct songs from the record. – Steph Haselman


22. Delia's Gone - Johnny Cash (American Recordings)

When I was a kid, my dad had an early version of Cash singing this song and at a young age, the song was striking to say the least.  Cash's first of the now legendary American Recordings opened with this song and it was even darker and chilling then.  Accompanied by a haunting video featuring Cash dealing out death Kate Moss, carrying her to her fresh grave and burying her there, there was no chance that this song wouldn't have an effect on you.  This song started off what has come to be my all-time favourite collection of music and it'll always hold a high place in my collection. – Phil Del Costello


21. 20th Century Schizoid Man - King Crimson (In the Court of the Crimson King)

This was Fripp's grand entrance into prog and what better way than to lay the foundation once and for all. Jumping from a jazz-induced mid section to a Fripp solo that would bite and snarl beside the explosive bass notes, this song was as political as it was prog. 20th Century Schizoid Man is 7 minutes of time changes, scratched vocals, and instrumentation that spits in the face of formality. The lyrics that lash out at politics, art, and medical practices, all with the blood-stained vocals of music's most interesting characters. This was a lighthouse beacon that endless bands would follow and still follow. –Darren Susin

| 50 - 41 | | 40 - 31 | | 30 - 21 |]]></description><author>jake@indieworkshop.com (Jake Haselman)</author><pubDate>2006-09-20</pubDate></item><item><title>Top 50 Album Openers - 40 - 31</title><link>http://www.indieworkshop.com/articles.php?id=354</link><description><![CDATA[


40. Equally Damaged/ In Particular - Blonde Redhead (Melody of Certain Damaged Lemons)

Before this record, Blonde Redhead had only hinted at how good they really were. But from the first notes of these tracks, something felt very different. It starts as just a few blips and keyboard noises before morphing into "In Particular," with Kazu Makino's high, eerie voice hovering over melodic guitar riffs and rhythmic drumbeats. This band, which Touch and Go Records describes as resulting from the chance encounter at a New York restaurant of Makino and Italian twin brothers, took their music to a new level on this record, and this track starts the journey. – Jason Hancock


39. TNT - Tortoise (TNT)

This song is jazz. Tortoise's take on jazz, but jazz none-the-less. You could tell that Dave Pajo had been replaced on guitar by Jeff Parker, and with the change brought a new texture to this group's sound. The song builds slowly, beginning with just a disjointed drumbeat, before the guitar joins in. As the song goes on, the rest of the band gets in the act, before the entire thing just pours from the speakers in a glorious blend of instrumentation that only Tortoise has managed to make sound truly interesting without coming across as over the top.  – Jason Hancock



38.  Plainsong - The Cure (Disintegration)
 
It is the song that launched 1000 miserable ships a-sail.  The Cure have never come off as particularly chipper fellows, but Disintegration definitely had a few more dirges than usual.   Besides making smeared make-up, black clothes, and self-mutilation popular long before Emo kids latched onto it, Robert Smith was capturing something shared by all of us, funny hair or not.   Disintegration is an album about heart-ache, certainly, but don't forget it is the album that gave The Cure some of their biggest hits. Plainsong is the middle-ground between the saccharine Love Song and the bleakness of the album's title track.   Plainsong is sweeping and majestic.  It is both melancholy and hopeful much like Disintegration as a whole. – Travis Hutzell


37. You're Gonna Miss Me – The 13th Floor Elevators (The Psychedelic Sounds of The 13th Floor Elevators)

While only a modest hit upon its original release in 1966, You're Gonna Miss Me became every psych collectors dream when it was included on the first Nuggets collection in 1972. The track, which is launched by that unmistakable Roky Erickson scream, starts out the first album by one of the first psychedelic bands. Whether or not The 13th Floor Elevators invented psychedelia is irrelevant. The fact is that the band and its frontman were altered to a religious degree and the counterculture of its time took notice. The track features virtually no psych clichés just great rock and roll and the excitingly intense vocals of Erickson. It's a simple rock song but it's driven by a passion that dangled over the edge of sanity and eventually fell off. – Steph Haselman


36. King Of Carrot Flowers Pt.1 - Neutral Milk Hotel  (In The Aeroplane Over The Sea)

Such a simple opening song as this can lead only to a simple album. The simplicity makes for astonishingly catchy songs about rather complex subjects, with Jeff Mangum's inimitable warble the central focus. A basic folk ditty, it is the augmentations to it that are most memorable, with accordion chords woven beautifully around the stumpy acoustic guitar like a worn dressing gown. A diseased family portrait is painted in King Of Carrot Flowers, but one with the hope of escape thanks to love. That yearning desire to climb out is as compelling as the music itself. As Mangum beautifully intones, 'we would lay and learn what each other's bodies were for'.  – Daniel Ross


35. Burning Down The House – Talking Heads (Speaking in Tongues)

Does it blow anyone else's mind that this song was recorded in 1983?  The opening song to Talking Heads fantastic Speaking in Tongues is as fresh today as it was twenty-three years ago.  The crisp strums of that acoustic guitar act as the foundation for the group's afro-beat pop experiments on this one.  The song (and album) opened a new chapter in the Heads sound, taking in new sources of inspiration resulting in a grand sound of off the wall experiments and even more off the wall lyrics.  To call these guys innovators and legends might be understating it a bit and I might risk sounding indulgent when I say that this song may be one of the greatest and most exuberant ever written, but really… this song should have been higher in the list.. – Jake Haselman


34. Mother - John Lennon (Plastic Ono Band)

On an album full of self-examination, self-discovery and catharsis, we start with perhaps the most emotional purge on Lennon's first post-Beatles solo record.  He takes us right inside his psyche, getting right down to the main source of what makes him who he is today: his childhood.  As he primally screams over and over, louder and louder, with more and more guts each time, "mother don't gooOOOOHH!  Daddy come home!", we realize that, perhaps more clearly and immediately than with any other work on this list, music is at its best when the artist is creating it for him or herself. – Robert Ferdman


33. Dalliance - The Wedding Present (Seamonsters)

David Gedge and Steve Albini's collective vision of romantic scuzz-pop to rival the works of Keats reaches one of its highest watermarks here. Beginning in near-silence, Dalliance is a melodically charged scratch 'n' jangle affair with some of Gedge's most heartbreaking lyrics. When he wails 'how much I miss you' and guiltily admits that he 'still wants to kiss you', it's hard not to feel inexorably drawn to his monumentally confessional writing. It is this element that has always separated The Wedding Present from contemporaries, and it is no more clearly displayed than here. The crash of guitar and cymbals as the second half of the song explodes is the stuff that indie-discos have been made of for the last 15 years. – Daniel Ross


32. Web in Front - Archers of Loaf (Icky Mettle) 

"You're the web in front, of my favorite lie." We were never quite sure what that line is really. If you were to contrast Pavement with the Archers of Loaf, I would like to think that the Archers would seriously beat the living daylights out of Mr. Malkmus and his stage mates. This song is the first arrow (get it?) out of the quiver for Icky Mettle, one of the most acclaimed indie rock records, back when indie rock was called something like "alternative," or "college rock;" terms that are now reserved only for the likes of the BMG music club catalogue. – Paul Bredenberg




31. Best Foot Forward/Building Steam With a Grain of Salt - DJ Shadow (Entroducing...)

"Guess who's coming? It's -- Guess who's coming? It's -- Guess who's coming? It's DJ Shadow".  Several scratches later, and the first song proper starts, "I'm a student, of the drums.  I'm also a teacher of the drums too".  And then he shows us that is precisely the case, with a ride cymbal that almost overtakes the phattest beat since I can't remember when -- and until, well, "Midnight in a Perfect World" a few tracks later.  The eerie exorcist-themed piano and chanting set the mood just right for mouth-watering beat breakdowns, wah-wah guitar, and fantastically well-timed changes, making you realize that this is not merely a simple amalgamation of rhythms and samples, as DJ records often are.  By the time the dust settles and the words "the music's coming through me" fade out in an echo as the song ends, he's given you about as good a glimpse as humanly possible of what the rest of the record has to offer.  You know by this point the rest of the album is going to be a trip, and that you couldn't have asked for a better guide. – Robert Ferdman

| 50 - 41 | | 40 - 31 |]]></description><author>jake@indieworkshop.com (Jake Haselman)</author><pubDate>2006-09-19</pubDate></item><item><title>Top 50 Album Openers - 50 - 41</title><link>http://www.indieworkshop.com/articles.php?id=353</link><description><![CDATA[
Digital downloading has fully come into its own, making it easier than ever to just grab the single, not having to put up with an entire album's worth of material.  What easier way to avoid having to listen even once to the full album, than by just clicking on the track you're really after?   It seems more and more these days that attention spans are waning, and the work put into so many great records goes uncelebrated and unappreciated.  Worried that this apathy toward the beloved album is a quickly-growing affliction that will soon grow to plague-sized proportions, we here at Indie Workshop will be working to reverse it.  We will be bringing several features that pay tribute to this not-quite lost format, and to the some of the works that enthrall us, and why.

A fantastic album is more than a simple collection of songs.  It is a cohesive statement that often adds up to more than the sum of its parts.  The truth still is however, that even if you are the most patient, open-minded listener on Earth, it takes a special sort of full-length to really captivate you from beginning to end.  Luring the listener into that suite of songs that makes up a little world of its own is arguably the first important step when approaching the long-player format.  Appropriately then, our first of hopefully many forays into the world of the album begins with a list of our favorite record openers.  There are no doubt a variety of ways to accomplish this, and we believe what we have put together is a nice sampling of brilliant tracks that ease us in, blow us away, and always dazzle and intrigue us into continuing the journey with the artist into the rest of the record. – Robert Ferdman



50.  Randy Described Eternity - Built To Spill (Perfect From Now On)

With Randy Described Eternity, Doug Martsch and company lay the foundation for what is arguably the text-book way for a band to sign to a major label and not sell out.  The songs main character expounds on what eternity is by comparing it to wearing down a metal sphere (ten times the size of Jupiter!) with a feather.  Lyrically it is pleasant enough, but sonically it is overwhelming.  It crawls along for six minutes almost weighted down by the layer upon layer of sound.  It is Neil Young meets indie rock and it is a brilliant way to start a record. – Travis Hutzell


49. Disorder - Joy Division (Unknown Pleasures) 

When the echoed drums hit and the flapping bass rolls in, it is immediately intriguing. Then the jangly guitars hit and into the saloon walks Ian Curtis, with his voice from down the hall and robot movements. This is 1979 and I'm barely 6 months old, but across the planet Joy Division is capturing crowds with its undefiable sounds and intriguing lead singer. As an opener, Disorder epitomizes Joy Division. Boxed-in vocals, treble-heavy bass, and guitars that bend and turn on a dime. When Curtis finally yells, "I got the spirit"," even the stupidest  of listeners couldn't hear the anguish. Sadly, Unknown Pleasures was the only album Curtis saw the releace of, taking his own life months before Closer was released. – Darren Susin


48. Things Done Changed - The Notorious B.I.G. (Ready To Die)

When Ready To Die came out I was in the height of my hip-hop phase, yes, I had Timberland boots, baggy jean shorts, and the rest of it and the album was in high rotation.  Ready To Die was the soundtrack for driving around with my friends in high school looking for house parties and stupid shit to get into.  Things Done Changed, after the brief story of Biggie's life set you up for his raw and rough delivery, dealing out stories of drugs, life, and death on the streets of New York.  I could go on and on about Christopher Wallace's evocative lyrics, lifestyle and dark, obsessive foresight, but everyone knows the story.  This is one of the albums that changed hip hop for the second half of the nineties and even up to now.  The streets went across the nation to people who had no clue about it, Ready To Die was a vehicle for countless other albums to reach audiences all over the states.  – Phil Del Costello


47. Battery – Metallica (Master of Puppets)

Master of Puppets may be the greatest album Metallica has ever recorded.  I mean, we certainly don't need to worry about them topping it now that we've seen what they think "going back to their roots" means (St. Anger is so bad it makes me physically angry).  Five minutes of pure brutality, the songs title says it all.  It was tight, it was fast, it still remains one of the untouchable masterpiece in thrash.  All that palm muting, all those triplets, the song is out of control.  Not only does it prepare you for the rest of this magnificent album, but the sheer force of it leaves you in a state of shock… twitching in your chair as the first notes of Master of Puppets rings out.  – Jake Haselman


46. Contract on the World Love Jam/Brothers Gonna Work It Out - Public Enemy (Fear of a Black Planet)

The Bomb-bastic opener to Public Enemy's greatest record begins with what sounds like a clock bell chiming: it's time.  The Squad comes out of the gates showing all that they can do at the height of their powers.  Terminator X's scratches are melodic as well as percussive. The perfectly-chosen politically-leaning vocal samples are as relevant as ever and the laid-back funk rhythm over which it is all laid doesn't sound the least bit dated. 

The transition between this opening collage and the first rap of the record is absolutely, literally,  breathtaking.  We explode into the maniacal guitar soloing just behind and the hyper-propulsive, anything-but-laid-back beat out front that makes you pay attention.  Most of all, Chuck D's commanding call to the black community to get involved and reach the "goal, indestructible soul" so that "one day, the brothers gonna work it out" is as compelling and vital as it gets.  This still blows my mind each time I hear it.  The rest of the record would have a really hard time keeping up.  But it does -- it still does. – Robert Ferdman


45. New York State of Mind – Nas (Illmatic) 

First of all, just to get this out of the way, I hate Billy Joel.  We will not discuss Billy Joel here today.  We are here to talk about Nas and "New York State of Mind", the first track on his 1994 debut, Illmatic.  Nas spins tales of NYC street crime, vacillating from the fear and indecision of a shooter caught behind a jammed gun, to a young thug dreaming of the glamorous life of real gangsters.  Illmatic was a big part of the resurgence of the storyteller MC, as was Liquid Swords by fellow New Yorker the GZA, but slick, jazz-heavy production by DJ Premier (along with Large Professor, Pete Rock, and others on the rest of the album) propelled Nas to superstardom and Illmatic to platinum status. The album, while brief, is from note one an unqualified masterpiece of hip-hop, and can easily function as a party jam or as serious discussion material.  Now that is gangsta!  - Geddes Gengres


44. He's Simple, He's Dumb, He's the Pilot - Grandaddy (The Sophtware Slump)

Yeah, it's nine minutes long. But it's like three songs in one. So being nine minutes long needs to be pretty good, because it's nine minutes that you can't get back, yeah? Well, once the cottony warmth of Grandaddy's synths and Jason Lytle's candy-assed vocals pop up around you like a fire in a log cabin, you'll want those nine minutes to last forever. Lytle's trademark elevation of ridiculous subjects to a level of massive emotional importance is rather dumbed down, but it is still clearly framed on the song's journey from wonky ditty through breezy ballad and culminating in an expansive electro-folk mantra of 'Are you giving in, 2000 man?'. A magical atmosphere. – Daniel Ross


43. Maggot Brain - Funkadelic (Maggot Brain)

Remember the first time you heard Eruption. You probably thought, "Oh my God, how does he do that? Finger tapping is amazing. I want to learn to shred just like Eddie." But now that we're all out of the 4th grade, finger tapping (and the greater metal metropolitan area) is more campy than quality. But never fear, egregiously long, unnecessary, pretentious guitar solos still exist (see: Maggot Brain). Take all of the oversized pants, hair gel, stage antics, and, let's face it, booze out of Eruption and add some soul, and you have yourself one fine solo. Funkadelic is often touted as the best black rock band ever. Maggot Brain is a sworn testament. So next time you want to jump around like a 12 year-old, take a step back, turn the lights off, turn on Maggot Brain and soak it in. – Chris Gaerig


42. Care of Cell 44 - The Zombies (Odyssey and Oracle) 

What other decade but the 1960's would produce a song about an old sweetheart returning from a prison term? It's an introduction to the beautiful, posthumous album from the kings of baroque pop. It's a shame that the other tracks on the record are overlooked in the shadow of Time of the Season, because the real soul of this "Odyssey" lies in the 10+ tracks preceding it. To quote: "Saved you the room you used to stay in every Sunday. The one that is warmed by sunshine every day." Could you ask for a more appropriate invitation into an equally sunny and warm recording? – Paul Bredenberg


41. Serve the Servants - Nirvana (In Utero)

In Utero is the best Nirvana album.  Period.  We won't be entertaining debate on this subject because there's no point. By '93, the world weary Cobain (all of 26 years old at the time) was a full-blown rock star, able to proclaim with his album-opening breath "Teenage Angst has paid off well/Now I'm bored and old" .  Hiring Steve Albini has been interpreted by many as a desperate attempt to regain lost credibility with the punk scene that they simultaneously left in the dust and brought to the mainstream, but I think Kurt knew who could get the sounds down the way he wanted.  Albini's production turns Dave Grohl's (his favorite Nirvana member) drumming into something akin to nuclear bombardment, rooting Novoselic's bass firmly in the melody and turning Kurt's guitar into nails on a chalkboard.  The solo drags itself across the floor  only to be picked up again by Kurt's gentle chorus vocals.  The great thing about this album is being able to hear the air between the band, being pushed around by the bass drum and cut through with guitars.  The combination of Albini's deadly production and the forces of the worlds greatest punk band at the height of their powers makes for one of the all time great opening tracks.   – Geddes Gengres

| 50 - 41 | | 40 - 31 |]]></description><author>jake@indieworkshop.com (Jake Haselman)</author><pubDate>2006-09-18</pubDate></item><item><title>Appetite for Destruction - #2</title><link>http://www.indieworkshop.com/articles.php?id=352</link><description><![CDATA[
10 Minute Veggie meal

As I was pondering the evening meal while riding home I thought I would use up that brick of tofu that had been sitting in the fridge for a week. I am an ovo-lacto vegetarian about 80% of the time so this is no surprise that I end up eating on the veggie side. I mean, I love meat. I looooove meat, but what I like above all else is good meat and that adjective doesn't always come with the meat at any supermarket. I am fortunate enough to live right near a terrific butcher but even there sometimes it sucks. In any case, it is cheaper and healthier to eat vegetarian, if done well. 

As the rebel that I am, I thought, since I am doing the hippie thing tonight with the tofu and all, why not listen to probably the most urban music as possible: electronics. Here came out the Drill n' Bass of Squarepusher. Tom Jenkinson is probably my favorite electronic artist of all time and his Go Plastic album was the spark that made me a fan. This is a guy that is a bass virtuoso, yet he spends most of his time behind machines making the most incredibly fast, catchy and rhythmically challenging electronics ever.  In the pantheon of Drum n' Bass, Aphex Twin might be up there but for me, Squarepusher is light years better.

So the idea was to grill some tofu, with a bit a flavouring and have a good, filling side dish. I had bought a humongous sweet potato the day before that was that. This was going to be a quick cooking affair so I prepared and cut all my vegetables, tofu and seasonings first and started putting stuff on the stove. First, the sauteed sweet potatoes

2 tablespoons of vegetable oil, peanut or canola works
2 large sweet potatoes, cut in 1/3" wedges or approximation thereof.
2 cloves of garlic
¼ cup of water
2 tablespoons of Louisiana hot sauce
salt and pepper to taste

Put the oil in a large non-stick skillet, over high heat. Add the sweet potatoes. Don't move them too often as we want them to brown. Move the wedges about every minute and a half or so to make suure all of them are browned on both sides. Reduce the heat to medium and add the garlic. A minute after, add the water and the hot sauce to the pan and let the liquid evaporate moving things around every few minutes. Once the liquid is all evaporated, set aside, salt an pepper.

Grilled tofu

Quarter cup of Soy Sauce
1 hot pepper or more to taste, minced (hot sauce works too)
1 tablespoon of honey
1 tablespoon of vegetable oil, peanut or canola works
1 tea spoon of Chinese Five Spice
1 pound block of firm tofu, sliced 1/3" thick
3 slices of old cheddar



Simply mix together the soy sauce, the oil, the five spices, the minced hot pepper and the honey in a mixing bowl. Once uniform, dip the slices of tofu in the mixture and press a bit on it so that it drinks a bit of the marinade. Throw on a high heat grill or, like me, over high heat on a griddle pan. Turn over regularly, about every minute, as the tofu tends to stick to the grills. Cook for a total of 3 to 4 minutes on each sides. Remove from heat and place a slice of old cheddar on top so that it can melt on top.

I served the tofu and potato with a grilled corn which I think you can manage on your own. If you want to make it extra big, mince a clove of garlic with two tablespoons of mayo, salt and pepper and serve with that. Keep the remaining garlic mayo for tomorrow's sandwiches. I basically cooked up the full brick of tofu here, and I doubt you will eat that much, keep the rest of the tofu for salads, sandwiches and it can easily be reheated without losing flavour. If you can marinate longer than I did, marinate away, it will make it even more flavorful but 24 hours should be the maximum. ]]></description><author>jake@indieworkshop.com (Jake Haselman)</author><pubDate>2006-09-14</pubDate></item><item><title>Shellac</title><link>http://www.indieworkshop.com/articles.php?id=351</link><description><![CDATA[Shellac/Uzeda
September 1, 2006
Philadelphia, PA

Not even a soaking, tree-limb antagonizing tropical storm could keep several hundred away from a Shellac show. It was a Friday night after all. Chicago's finest handily sold out staunchly independent venue (Philly's last) the First Unitarian Church. They brought along Sicilian old heads Uzeda, long-term touring compatriots. Considering the thundering underbellies and razor-sharp guitars of both acts, the show portended potent slash-and-burn performances. 

I walked two blocks from my vehicle's perch above the roaring Schuylkill River to sprint into the dry refuge of the Church just in time for Uzeda. I'd casually perused their newest disc just released by Touch and Go. To me it sounded like a gentler Shellac with female vocals. So it was with immense surprise that I found myself relishing this band in the flesh. Though they looked like your parents (even your parents' parents- these Sicilians have been kicking it off-time rhythms and angular guitar style for the better part of two decades), Uzeda, in a verb, rocked. The drummer played the part of straight man, slamming out serious halting rhythms, while the bassist never once let his smile slip. He was the cheeriest Sicilian I've ever seen at the Church. The singer stood and shook with every belt from her throat, letting loose with some throws to the sky. Their guitarist spent as much time ripping smashed-bottle shards of guitar noises from his aluminum axe as he did with mouth wide open in mock roar, as well as many hops and twirls. And he was like 40! Though they performed on the long side of the opening spectrum, Uzeda won over a crowd hungry for a rare Shellac appearance. 

With no pretense or air of a dramatic entrance, the members of Shellac casually ascended the stage, wheeled their gear into place and prepared the math-rock assault. Drummer Todd Trainer disappeared, much to the apparent consternation of recording engineer band mates Bob Weston and Steve Albini. Weston stood with bass slung over his shoulder, eyeing the audience for a sign or a signal from the errant drummer. Albini (having disrobed from his mechanic jumpsuit) crouched down to talk with nearby audience members. Trainer soon materialized, donning two women's blouses: an inner glittery silver one, with a black velour one on top. Did he hit up a nearby Salvation Army box? Pay a passing vagrant for the attire? Retrieve from the van specifically for the occasion? One will never know.

Shellac quickly plugged in, turned on and churned out nearly an hour and a half of classics from their three long players, as well as live-only favorites and a handful of tunes slated to appear on their upcoming album (due anytime between now and 2007, according to Touch and Go's web site). They treated us to pummeling renditions of &quot;My Black Ass,&quot; &quot;Canada,&quot; &quot;Prayer to God&quot; and &quot;Song of the Minerals.&quot; They also blessed us with non-album classics &quot;Steady as She Goes,&quot; &quot;The End of Radio,&quot; &quot;Be Prepared&quot; and &quot;Lulabelle,&quot; any of which could pop up on their new record. The newer songs featured a rather more tuneful Albini, along with long, dramatic soliloquies, particularly on the stirring &quot;Lulabelle.&quot; 

As always, Albini played the role of raving bespectacled madman. He stormed in his robotic stumbling way, sometimes gripping the mic and yowling like a coyote in heat, or bouncing about like a toddler hopped up on Twinkies. He wore his customary round-the-waist guitar strap (slung to his trusty Travis Bean), and played like some alt-world Eric Clapton. Bob Weston sung many tunes as well, revealing his more melodic side. He effortlessly held down the material, as Trainer hammered away, looking almost giddy like a kid on a Christmas morning and their birthday party combined. 

Shellac delivered not one, but TWO Q and A sessions (perhaps revealing their age and lack of practice, since Weston explained that the Q and A's are physically necessary respites). Audience members in Philly proved unimaginative, with the routine &quot;What kind of guitar is that&quot; to &quot;Where is the new album.&quot; Weston did make the astute observation after a mosh pit broke out: &quot;Were you guys really slam dancing to our second slowest song? That's so fucking stupid.&quot; When one fearless person inquired, &quot;What's the most impressive thing you've seen,&quot; Albini responded, &quot;David Yow wrapped his cock twice around his wrist, pulled the head through and called it his Italian Wrist Watch.&quot; 

The set ended with Albini and Weston taking Trainer's drums apart mid-song, and then carrying the smiling drummer away from his kit. The call for an encore went unheeded. Shellac is one band that will not do what anyone tells them. To bolster this assessment, Albini offered a rousing speech lambasting the current state of Live Nation-run music business, and championing the quickly dying breed of independent music venues and culture. From a man once labeled one of the &quot;biggest assholes in rock,&quot; the sentiment hopefully resounded long after the last dying notes of the band's performance.   
]]></description><author>jake@indieworkshop.com (Jake Haselman)</author><pubDate>2006-09-13</pubDate></item><item><title>Dolly Mixture</title><link>http://www.indieworkshop.com/articles.php?id=350</link><description><![CDATA[From The Basement
Dolly Mixture/Demonstration Tapes
Dead Good Dolly Platters (original pressing)

Any old veteran of the punk movement would tell you that it was about grit, and grime, and flipping two fingers to the world. Of course, nowadays it's more about DIY, promotional sales ethics, and massive collections of obscure colored vinyl. So it goes without saying that anyone venturing into the world of early eighties UK post-punk/indie-pop etceteras would be interested in something from the deep recesses of the Britpop catacombs. 

I suppose "dark recesses" would be something of a misleading phrase, because undoubtedly Dolly Mixture would not be found wandering the streets sporting leather and studs, terrorizing old Brits, or piercing their noses with safety pins. Rather, these three pleasant girls would be seen fraternizing with the likes of Paul Weller and The Jam. Having dealings (and perhaps rumored romantic attachments) with Captain Sensible of The Damned would be as close as they came to the ever-growing marketability of the movement spear-headed into the main-stream by The Clash and The Sex Pistols.

Dolly-Mixtures' rock and soul roots should not be over-looked, but noted point for point. Spinning an old bootleg or two of some of their live performances would reveal some poorly recorded, but wonderful versions of Femme Fatale or The Locomotion, thus giving you a sense of their devotion to pop music, above Punks' politics and social re-structuring. 

Towards the end of their career, the girls released a collection of their demonstration tapes entitled, shockingly enough, Demonstration Tapes. Encompassing the width and breadth of their career, the tracks range from pop/punk teenage skepticisms like "How Come You're Such a Hit With the Boys, Jane", a happy tune like "Angel Treads", or bittersweet anthems for the unpopular teenage girl, such as: "Will He Kiss Me Tonight?" 

Demonstration Tapes is not widely available, since both LP and CD formats were of a limited release. There have been various represses and bootlegs floating around here and there, so your chances of finding this collecting dust in a bin somewhere aren't too terrible, if you're up for a treasure hunt through the blissful backstage of English culture.

Dolly Mixture - Dream Come True - MP3

Dolly Mixture - How Come You're Such A Hit With The Boys, Jane? - MP3

]]></description><author>jake@indieworkshop.com (Jake Haselman)</author><pubDate>2006-09-11</pubDate></item><item><title>Get Loaded on the Park</title><link>http://www.indieworkshop.com/articles.php?id=349</link><description><![CDATA[

According to London's numerous tourist guides, Clapham is a leafy suburban Mecca for those searching for a little peace and quiet in order to reproduce prolifically whilst still under the sway of the great god that is London taan (pronounced with a snarl, just to add authenticity.) 

So what is the result when this fragile equilibrium is pestered with? Where does Clapham stand when the near-silent whir of pram wheels on concrete is replaced by thousands of feet tramping virgin grass? This is Get Loaded in the Park.

This grassy enclave of South West London offers an enticing prospect for your average London muso, unwilling to brave the death that is Reading, nor adventurous enough to venture further afield to the weirder, freakier festivals that sprout in parks and gardens around the home counties. The typical line-up of greasy burger stalls and mass scale alcohol dispensaries are in abundance, as are three stages and a dance tent. Like a pygmy Glastonbury, Clapham Common has the makings of a fine festival.

With artists that range from the maddened beats of Scratch Perverts to the politicised rantings of Lily Allen, the festival seems to have tried to cover every musical avenue in its booking frenzy. However, there seems to have been a slight amount of egg-in-face effect in this genre-defying line-up. For example, it is always quite odd to hear the Scratch Perverts play a two-o-clock slot, followed by cock-in-hand madness that is The Cuban Brothers, but then, as night falls, to be replaced and headlined by Badly Drawn Boy. De La Soul's flower power hip-hop jostles with Armand Van Helden's ‘90's house beats. Babyshambles stagger on with Doherty in tow, obviously let out from the institution on a special treat – probably to stop him from selling crack to his sixteen year-old roomie in the Priory (hand on heart, this is true.) Something is awry here in SW8.

Despite fine performances from greats such as British Sea Power, who deliver an ivy-laden set that covers both old and new material, performed with a deranged fervour that only they can muster, the will to stay and see the next band dwindles with the painful caterwauling of The Chalets, or the whimsical drivel of the Guillemots. Suddenly, an evening spent drinking Strongbox cider seems more enticing. Hot picks such as The Young Knives, toted as the next big thing to come from Middle Class Suburbia, find themselves drowned out by poor sound and a crowd filled with Camden Leisure Pirates toting kaftans and Pete Doherty t-shirts. Sad really that the most interesting band in this writer's opinion occupied one of the lowest slots in the whole festival. Misty's Big Adventure, a crazed six-piece, including a blue jester with hundreds of red hands sewn to his coat, manage to break the fashionista trend that has coated Clapham like ectoplasm. Wacky, self-deprecating songs, delivered in a deadpan voice and backed up with trumpets and saxophone, offer a brief respite from the pain that is reverting to laughing gas in order to crack a smile.

Wading through Reading and Leeds' rejects is another gem that has passed under the wire this year; The Pippettes sassily flaunt their ‘fifties girl power pop, and prove that they are not just pretty girls in polka-dot dresses. The trio of demure temptresses seduce the crowd with an ease that shows up their contemporaries. A set containing the highlights of their recent debut album and a selection of new material ensures that they do not fall into the trap of many of their fellow entertainers at this, Clapham's finest summer festival.
Not so in the case of Babyshambles and Badly Drawn Boy, who seem to wallow in a funk of self-indulgent musical noodlings. Yes, Badly Drawn Boy is still wearing the hat of infamy that must be hiding something scary. Even Babyshambles, with their army of loving supporters, inspire little more than a bland cheer for ‘Fuck Forever'. Is there something in the air that is dulling people down?

Get Loaded in the Park, an eclectic selection of musical highlights from the last ten years. A recipe for success really. Well, no, err… partly, maybe a bit. Despite fine performances from a handful of bands from the bill; British Sea Power trying their best to rouse a crowd that is just standing, watching; Misty's Big Adventure endeavouring to break the angular tight-jeans theme that has taken London over; there is a little part of me that feels a little jaded, somewhat disappointed. Get Loaded in the Park had not delivered what it should have done.  This can't be blamed on the bands alone; maybe it is the crowd that these musicians are playing to – maybe it is Clapham Common itself, with its legacy of Sunday Football games and picnics on sunny days. Maybe it is because the music just wasn't loud enough and the gourmet burgers were just too enticing. Maybe it was the cider. Maybe it was the close proximity of the Reading Festival, pulling bands and people away from London. The Get Loaded in the Park festival, that promised so much, like Aladdin's cave, ended up delivering little, and just getting me drunk and slightly disappointed. The cider wasn't even that great, and left me with the strange taste of fake bananas.
]]></description><author>jake@indieworkshop.com (Jake Haselman)</author><pubDate>2006-09-08</pubDate></item><item><title>YouTube Video Mixtape - #1</title><link>http://www.indieworkshop.com/articles.php?id=348</link><description><![CDATA[

Hum – Iron Clad Lou

I love this band.  I was first introduced to these guys through the radio when "Stars" first hit the airwaves.  So I worked my way backwards to their 1993 debut Electra 2000.  It was a completely different band while having the same basic sound.  But this time, it was raw, unrefined… it was a bit off the tracks.  And before this YouTube thing, I had no idea that they had made a low budget video for the opening track, "Iron Clad Lou".



Langhorne Slim – In The Midnight

This dude just makes me smile.  With his recent signing to V2 I have a feeling he is going to get the opportunity to make a heck of a lot more people smile.  Every last song this man has written will make you tap your toes and have you being thankful you're alive.  



31 Knots – The Corpse and Carcass

This is the best band that no one is talking about.  Why this Portland band has more buzz in Japan and Europe is beyond me.  I mean, THEY ARE RIGHT HERE!!!  If you own their Polyvinyl debut, Talk Like Blood, and don't think it's one of the best albums you own… you are crazy.  And if you don't own the album in the first place… you're even more crazier.  



Sigur Ros -  Hoppipolla

Yes, everyone knows who Sigur Ros is, but many in the US don't know about their amazing videos… seeing as… we don't have a channel that plays music videos anymore.  This a great, uplifting video for the third track off their last album, Takk…



Radiohead – Spinning Plates

Maybe the best unofficial video I've seen… ever.  



Sunny Day Real Estate – In Circles

An absolute classic song.  And honestly, I had no idea they made a video for it.  But this album was a staple of my late teens.  This is the birth of emo… and it didn't suck.



Supersystem – White Light

The new Supersystem is the late summer jam of the year.  Amazing stuff.  And while it's not my favorite song on the album, this video for "White Light" might be one of the coolest things I've seen all year.  Love it.



Eliot Lip – Live (with Datrot)

I was trying to find a video for this dude, but all I could come up with was live stuff.  Doesn't matter.  If you are at all interested in electronica, this is the dude to know.  Trust me, by the end of the year people will be dropping this guys name as much as they do Prefuse.  




]]></description><author>jake@indieworkshop.com (Jake Haselman)</author><pubDate>2006-09-05</pubDate></item><item><title>Appetite for Destruction - #1</title><link>http://www.indieworkshop.com/articles.php?id=347</link><description><![CDATA[

Fried Ravioli in Tomato-caper Sauce and Fig Clafouti

On a Monday night that figured to be a borefest, what's better than cooking up a storm until 9pm making dishes that you will eat all week. That's not entirely true since some of this was done in a previous operation, of which we will get into a little later. The musical choice for something like this is important because it will keep the cook sane and will help him go through the night. The idea behind this was to make a quick meal out of something that was already in stock, in this case: Raviolis.

These little raviolis are little things that I make every so often and that I keep in the freezer for days like this. Basically I cook up a little filling of veggies, buy a pack of Wonton wrappers and make raviolis like there is no tomorrow. Now, making raviolis is a painstakingly long process that will require something rhythmically interesting to have your booty shaking throughout or otherwise this is going to take forever and you will hate the person who suggested you do this. I went for a selection of the Fly Pan Am debut and Red Hot Chili Peppers' Mother's Milk. Here is the filling I made:

1 Medium size leek, cleaned, sliced in half and then cut sideways as thin as you can
1 can of crab meat, drained
salt, pepper
dry fennel seeds to taste
1 minced cerano chili or anything else spicy that you like (optional)
Olive oil

In a skillet, over medium heat, let oil heat a little bit before dumping your leak in, add a little salt so the leak starts letting out its water. We don't want this to brown but rather to go translucid. Add the fennel seed after a minute of cooking so that it starts giving out its flavour. When the leak is translucid, add the crab meat, salt and pepper to taste. Let the juices evaporates for a minute or two and set aside. You need the filling to be completely cold before making the raviolis, put in your fridge and wait the time it needs. 

Once cold, take out the filling and start making the raviolis by taking about the size of the end of your index finger of mixture and deposit it in the middle of the 2 ½" x 2 ½" Wonton wrapper. Have a little bowl of water handy and dip your finger and brush the sides of the wrapper you will closing with the water. Fold the wrapper in a triangle and press vigorously in order to close the ravioli. Deposit the ravioli on a sheet pan that you will have previously floured. Repeat ad nauseam.

You should have enough raviolis for about 6-8 man-size portions. Now if you don't want to use them right away, you have two ways to do so: You let them dry on the counter for a while until the dough is completely dry (this will get them ready to be boiled at any time, you should refrigerate them afterwards and they will keep for a good week) or you freeze them directly on the sheet pan and then transfer them to a freezer bag to be used anyway you like. For the following recipe, I suggest the freezing or fresh option but these are good boiled like traditional raviolis as well as fried.

The next part is pretty quick once the raviolis are ready, which they were. I simply put something is little more challenging on the player in order to get this thing moving. I decided to go with Fred Frith, Jean Derome, Pierre Tanguay, Myles Boisen Quartet's All is Bright, But it is Not Day on Dame Records, 2002.

To fry them, I simply put about ¾ of an inch of vegetable oil, canola works well, in a wok and fried them on both sides until brown, about a minute a side, you'll see, this is pretty quick. I did this for about 6-8 raviolis at one time. Reserve each batch on a paper towel for later.  Soon after I started the sauce:

For two portions:

3 plum/italian tomatoes, quarter-inch cube
1 medium sized onion, minced
2 tablespoons of rinced capers
1 clove of garlic, sliced thinly
1 table spoon of Sambal Olek or other hot sauce of your choice, preferable not vinegar based.
Olive oil



In the same wok I discarded the frying oil and added the Olive oil. Brown the onion. Add the garlic and the sambal olek, let cook for a minute. Add the diced tomatoes, capers and quickly stir and put the raviolis back in. Mix so that the sauce and juices of the tomatoes touch all the raviolis. 

Enjoy

For desserts, I had just bought a box of figs and realized that if I did not do anything with them right away I would simply lose them. I had just stumbled on the travelerslunchbox.com recipe for a fig clafoutis and decided to give it a shot, while modifying it a bit. I am of the belief that deserts require special attention and that something a little meditative was in order so the stereo was playing Scorn's Ellipsis, an album of remix of the ambient project that I am fondly attached to.

5 oz cream cheese, at room temperature
1/2 cup sugar, plus extra for dipping figs, I used raw cane sugar for dipping
4 large eggs
3 tablespoons honey
½ cup of Whole milk
1 tablespoon of brandy (optional)
1/2 cup  flour
Enough figs to fill it, I guess ¾ pound to a pound will do, any variety 



Beat the sugar and the cream cheese until smooth. Add the eggs one at a time taking the time to incorporate them completely before adding the next one. Add the milk, brandy and honey and incorporate well. Add the flour and make sure there are no lumps left in the batter. Refrigerate for a while, this can be overnight or an hour, the latter did the trick for me. Grease a shallow baking pan, 12" in diameter is good or like me a 10" will take a little longer to cook. Pour in the mixture. Cut the figs lengthwise and dip the cut side in sugar, that you will have previously poured in a plate and deposit, sugar-side up in the batter. Fill the whole dish this way. Put the dish in a preheated 350 degrees oven for 35-45 minutes. Let cool for 20 minutes. 

Serve warm or room temperature with a side of lemon or lime sorbet and you will impress, but it is just as good on its own.
]]></description><author>jake@indieworkshop.com (Jake Haselman)</author><pubDate>2006-08-31</pubDate></item><item><title>Podcast - Vol. 2</title><link>http://www.indieworkshop.com/articles.php?id=346</link><description><![CDATA[Why is it that when someone describes something as "mathy" most people seem to equate that with something heavy.  Sure, there are a ton of very talented bands that have both adjectives correctly popping up in their bios and reviews, but it doesn't mean that both words are exclusive to one another.  So in this volume of the IndieWorkshop Podcast, we set out to prove once and for all that math doesn't always equal heavy.  We have eight tracks for you that should thoroughly prove our point.  From the hushed, to the chaotic, to the hard to find b-side, this little trip down disjointed lane should get your toes tapping and your billfold opening (that is, unless you own all these albums already).

Volume Two: Under My Algebra - Download or stream 

Ris Paul Ric – Purple Blaze 
Purple Blaze – (Academy Fight Song) 

What a great song. The first time I heard the solo debut from one time Q and Not U member Christopher Richards I was sucked in. He had made me forget his rock and roll past and made me believe in his songwriting abilities all over again. I'm only complaint is, at a mere 2:04, the song is over just as you are getting lost in its hypnotic cadence. But that's ok, all you have to do is hit repeat. – JH

Chin Up Chin Up – The Architect Has a Gun
We Should Have Never Lived Like We Were Skyscrapers (Flameshovel) 
	
This song always feels like a breath of fresh air every time I hear it.  The guitars are bright and clean, the drums while a little laid back for the normal Chin Up Chin Up faire, fill out whatever space is left out by the bass and the whole assembly seems to sound better and better each time it passes through my eardrums. - PD

The Ladies – Nice Chaps, Buddy! 
They Mean Us (Temporary Residence Limited) 

The collaboration between Rob Crow and Zach Hill still has a constant presence in my MP3 player and iTunes playlist. Each new track brings something completely new to your ears, yet somehow it still fits as a cohesive album. It could be the octopus behind the drum set. Or it could be the cat-like fence walking of the guitar lines. It could also be the dream-like delivery of Crow's voice. Or… it's just the fact that all three uniquely different sounds seem to fit perfectly together. Oh yeah, and this song rules. – JH

Make Believe – Temping As a Shaman 
Make Believe EP (Flameshovel)
	
What is there left to say about Make Believe that hasn't already been said?  With each song they please and bewilder at the same time.  If it's not Nate Kinsella's spastic vocal delivery or his brother Nate's off-kilter percussion, then it's Bobby Burg and Sam Zurick's exhaustive work on the fret boards.  It seems these guys have to try really, really hard to go wrong. - PD

Riddle of Steal – Time for the Truth 
Python (Ascetic Records) 

This might be the "one of these things is not like the others" track on this podcast. It's not exactly mathy, but it is certainly a powerful song nonetheless. Starting off innocently enough, this St. Louis band builds a creeper of a song. Its unassuming beginning suddenly gets lost half way through the song as the power takes over. Delicate guitars get lost in walls of soaring melodies. I've always liked this album, but this has to be one if its stronger tracks. - JH

The Joggers – Back to the Future 
Solid Guild (Star Time)
	
The Joggers is one of those bands whose mention always is met with an open mouth smile from me.  Everyone's singin', everyone's playin', and everytime I hear them I picture them playing on and on while standing on a floor with empty pixie sticks strewn all over the place.  Always a top pick when I need something to wipe off the often-pitiful grimace I catch myself walking around with. - PD

Aloha – Ferocious Love 
That's Your Fire (Polyvinyl Records) 

Aloha has lost me a little bit with their last album. It's fine and all, but it is missing something (for me at least) that was present on those early recordings. Maybe it was the youth of the band, I'm not sure. But I think this song perfectly captures what I'm talking about. It's powerful and goose bump inducing. Imagine seeing this performed live without ever having heard of this bad before… I would have crapped myself. And even five years after its release, I still find myself drifting off whenever this track comes on. – JH

Minus the Bear – Houston, We Have Uh-Oh
	
This track is a little hard to come by and oddly enough, it's one of my all-time favorite Minus the Bear songs.  Recorded between "They Make Beer Commercials Like This" and "Menos El Oso", it works as perhaps the best middle-marker between their older and newer material.  The hammer-ons of "Highly Refined Pirates" are there, as are the crystal clear riffs of "Menos El Oso".  It took me a while to come around on their newer stuff and this track is what walked me through it.  A hidden gem indeed. - PD]]></description><author>jake@indieworkshop.com (Jake Haselman)</author><pubDate>2006-08-28</pubDate></item><item><title>Green Man Festival '06 - part three</title><link>http://www.indieworkshop.com/articles.php?id=343</link><description><![CDATA[
Sunday… Day 3:

Spaghetti for breakfast again… this time with added grass. Hair resembles matted hair under a wet dog's belly. Feeling groggy like the wolf. The wolf that hadn't changed his jeans or licked himself clean in several days.

A bit of a late start today, but we are up and about to catch 18th Day Of May, the UK's premier Fairport Convention tribute act. That's harsh… their set is beautifully judged, idyllic and warm. The dreamy intertwining violin and flute harmonies are custom-built for a Sunday afternoon such as this, with the weather suddenly no longer threatening to piss everywhere. They have a distinctly baggy flavour to them, not helped by the fact that their bassist looks like someone from the Inspiral Carpets, but the delicious lute and guitar twangs overrule any other influence. Billed as being mildly psychedelic, it becomes ever more apparent that this is the direction they should go with. A little more drone and a little less tradition could do them wonders, for they have the intrigue and hypnotic quality to substantiate it. But it is a stellar performance nonetheless. 

Celebrity Encounter #7: Huw Stephens off Radio 1! Gave a nice interview (after I chased him for a moment) and was very polite and tolerant of my shambolicism.

Then, by heck, it's time for The Archie Bronson Outfit. Man, they're evil. Dry as the desert but somehow fluid as the sea, they cause a (literal, I was pretty close) stink like no one else at the festival. With fried rock squealers comes the bizarre addition of baroque oboe, sax and alto clarinet, all honked to damn-near destruction over the top. It is pure rock 'n' roll in an undiluted, jazzy, wilfully rambunctious guise. Sing-along-a-single 'Kangaroo Heart' from their first record is bouncy as hell and renders the assembled crowd a quivering mass. And their drummer is a spitting image of Dave Grohl. He probably gets that all the time…

Celebrity Encounter #8: Actor from Teachers and Top Buzzer James Lance farting about looking like he knows nothing about music.

Then a streaker runs across the site…

Adem is nice. But not much else. The songs are so very clever, so intricate and idiosyncratic with their glissandi harmonic violins and bonkers organ noises, but they leave a hole where there should be some personality. It's full of heart and soul, sure, but it is the kind of heart and soul that appears to divorcees and people who live in houses with brown leather chairs and white walls. David Gray wanks over this stuff. But it is a nice early-evening soundtrack. When Adem's welly boots are removed, they reveal some really nice stripy socks, too.

A scamper over to the Folkey Dokey Stage culminates in the knowledge that things are running late, and some horrific blues band have been drafted in before the majestic ex-Gorky's Zygotic Mynci guitarist Richard James comes on. The beauteous Mr James vanquishes any memory of tired and wretched pub-rock with his nimbly plucked folk tunes and impeccable harmonies. Frankly, his keyboardist looks extremely bored, and goes as far as laughing at James when he uses the wrong harmonica, but this is an essential part of the woozy milieu of the songs. There is the same quiet humour and dignified accomplishment of Gorky's music, but James infuses it with his own gentle qualities and impeccable guitar strokes. But what better way to end a set than with a disgustingly scuzzy punk wig-out? Correct, there is no better way. 'Wanna See You Die' is literally blinding, with lights swirling around the stage to illuminate the tent and make the band mere silhouettes. Gleeful. 



After recovering from that, a stroll across to the Green Man Café finds us in the presence of legendary Welsh folk singer Meic Stevens. Immediately surly and confrontational, he is a picture of the cantankerous rage that comes with a lifetime knowing that you're above the mainstream. At his peak, he was turning down offers from major publishers, and garnering acclaim from his American contemporaries. And while he may not be as punishing as he probably was in the 60s, he is still a force of experience and a cherished man. He tells stories, tells jokes, he drinks red wine and sings with palpable intensity still at this stage. It is testament to his impact on Welsh music that the last song of the set is performed by the crowd, all chorusing the insanely catchy refrain of 'Y Brawd Houdini' a good few minutes after Stevens has left the stage (having refused to play it and cursing Gruff Rhys for covering it on Friday night, of course). 

The merriment has to stop, however, and the one thing missing from the Green Man experience so far – sheer, sheer, the sheerest of exhilarations – must make an appearance. Now I was dubious about Sunburned Hand Of The Man. They are monumentally pretentious, and I had not heard a great deal of their recorded material. But this layman-like level of knowledge did not prepare me for the lucidity of their live show. But for god's sake, all that shit they spout about 'checking your emotional baggage at the door' is terrible. When they begin to play, however, they shine as bright as anything else this weekend. It takes time for the first riff to make itself known (there seem to be about three riffs in the whole set, and they're all perfect), but there is no little pleasure to be gained from the mountain climb that leads to their unfurling. Staccato bass and guitar with some mad sax lay foundations for trippy and watery lead sounds and some impeccable drum flourishes. It's all tremendously hypnotic and full of ingenious nuances, and would be perfect if they dropped the attitude and stuck another riff or two in every now and again. But that's pernickety. Fuck it, they were ace. It is tricky to imagine a better ending to the Green Man Festival 2006.

So with it all over and done with for this year, it is important to remember why we all came here, kids. The Green Man is a diverse mix, full of disparate bands and people. But for some reason, they call it a folk festival. Which it sort of is, but there's so much variation from stage to stage that it becomes a completey immersive and seamless weekend. Never will you see such a healthy mix of hipsters, hippies and replacements hips in one campsite. With 6,000 folk fans in attendance this year, it is the biggest Green Man so far. BBC Radio 1 DJ Huw Stephens also thinks it's the strongest: 'Obviously you've got the legends like Bert Jansch, but you've got new names like Bat For Lashes among others.' He sums up the whole festival rather perfectly: 'It's a really nice site and a really nice atmosphere. I hope it stays the same sort of size for a little bit longer. I just hope it carries on.']]></description><author>jake@indieworkshop.com (Jake Haselman)</author><pubDate>2006-08-24</pubDate></item><item><title>Green Man Festival '06 - part two</title><link>http://www.indieworkshop.com/articles.php?id=342</link><description><![CDATA[Saturday… Day 2:

It rained in the night, and everything is cold when we wake up. Cooking a breakfast of tinned spaghetti on the camping stove becomes more warmly pleasurable than is probably appropriate. Today, however, is a day of celebrity close encounters for us. Watch as we effortlessly rack up a tally of famous faces in the crowd…

Having finished Day 1 with a disappointing Donovan set, it seemed pertinent to give the guy another chance. So we wandered through medieval courtyards and a rolling hillcrest to the literature tent where Donovan was due to appear in a rather hoary-sounding 'Mojo Interview'. The audience is suitably ecstatic to see a legend up close, and he is utterly charming in his story-telling and soft acoustic strumming of a few tunes. It was oddly comforting to hear him call Bob Dylan 'a pain in the arse' and recall his stories of free-wheeling gypsy travels, Kerouac-style across the British Isles. Much better. 

Celebrity encounter #1: we were sat next to Donovan's wife without realising, and I blocked her view… sorry Mrs. Donovan.

The Main Stage is the scene of immense mirth this afternoon, beginning with the ever-dependable Euros Childs. His folk-ified pop songs are as beautiful as the mountainous backdrop, and the audience agree. Stomping merrily through the majority of his 'Chops' album and a healthy dollop of new tunes (which sound even more appealing, if that's possible), Childs charms an entire field of people. With a replacement keyboardist in tow and typically sketchy festival sound quality, the songs are a little bare-sounding, but they are more than made up for in simple enthusiasm and strength of character. The rain does not dampen any spirits when Euros plays. 

As solid and entertaining as Euros Childs was, he is eclipsed by the mid-afternoon draw of Misty's Big Adventure on the Folkey Dokey stage. A quick glance at the notes I made in the seconds after they had left the stage read as follows: 'MBA = Best thing ever?' and then, in letters encompassing the remainder of the page: 'YES.' Quite simply, their set is astounding in every way. Almost Vaudevillian in ringleader Grandmaster Gareth's pseudo-dramatic rants against Bush and others, MBA see no better way to solve these problems than to dance the shit out of them. Dancer and sometime beat-boxer Erotic Volvo is the obvious visual focus, bedecked in a massive red sack covered in blue gloves and poking himself in the eyes. But past this you will see a remaining band of tremendously excitable people pogoing about with scant regard for the edge of the stage. Inevitably, Erotic Volvo goes renegade and leaves the stage, leaving a trail of bemused onlookers, enthused revellers and frightened children in his wake (leading to the best photo ever taken). Material from their 'Black Hole' LP is superb, particularly 'The Story Of Love' and 'Evil', both of which are rampant two-tone psych-pop gems with more vigour than a bus full of rats. 

But alas, Misty's must come to an end. In fact, the journey away from Misty's is as pleasant as anything that went on during. As I wander in a stupor towards the Main Stage to catch Tunng, I hear the delicate buoyancy of 'Woodcat', one of the finest singles of the year so far. Cresting the hill once more into the main area becomes a pleasantly sunny and distinctly sweet journey from the ridiculous to the sublime. As I get closer to the stage, it is apparent that one of Tunng's guitar-playing number is clad entirely in green foliage, leading to several japes at his expense. I thought he looked lovely… Tunng's live show is as accomplished and engaging as ever, with 'Jenny Again' melting every heart in a mile radius, their subtle beats and strums ideally suited to the open air. And with King Creosote a surprise guest for one song, Tunng prove that they are growing, expanding, ageing slightly, but all with good grace.

Celebrity encounter #2: Euros Childs and his band mooching about outside the merchandise tent…

King Creosote is next on the Main Stage, fresh after straining out a few notes for Tunng. Thankfully, his voice returns to its usual raspy melodious self for his set. Blindly anthemic and tremendously enjoyable, KC is stirringly perfect for the early evening slot. Then Micah P. Hinson comes out and upsets the Welsh contingent of the crowd by saying he is happy to be in the English countryside. Silly sausage. To make up for it, he invites everyone to shout 'cunt' at him. We do. His set is diverting if nothing else, particularly the last song where he just shrieks loads. Nice, but I've already forgotten it. 

Celebrity encounters #3, 4, 5, and 6: Three of Tunng (now without the foliage) hanging around the bar. The female member is miniscule when not on stage. Also, the bassist from The Shortwave Set drips about looking monstrously cool with his handlebar moustache and big trousers. 

Such fripperies must end, however, for Silver Jews are next up. After an age, they emerge with former Pavement drummer Steve West filling the stool. The Bermans, particularly David, seem assured and completely at ease. Beginning with 'Smith & Jones Forever', the Jews take us on a whistle-stop tour of their records. It sounds fantastic, a ceaseless pile-driver in the face of a rock show with crashing guitars everywhere and the hilarious image of David Berman alerting the crowd to a missing kid on the site: 'If you can hear this,' he says '…you are a lost child.' Although the drumming is erratic and mistakes are made (well done to the lead guitarist for reigning West in), the Jews glide through their hour with aplomb. We are left warmed and fulfilled. A classic show in every sense. 

Then we wander over, slightly dazed and fully happy, to the Folkey Dokey stage for the last few songs from James Yorkston & The Athletes. We are stuck at the back of the tent, but it sounds lovely all the same. Over to the Green Man Café for headliner Malcolm Middleton, and a rather downbeat set of under-rehearsed ditties from his 'Into The Woods' LP. Despite his foul temper and lack of preparation, it is still an undeniably lovable performance. 'Break My Heart' is bouncy and tuneful, and nestles alongside other gems of good pop sense perfectly. Middleton is apologetic, at least, for his amateurish performance, but no one minds when the songs are this heart-breaking. As he depressingly intones 'I'm so lonely, I'm gonna crash my car into company', a chuckle ripples across the crowd, but one that is knowing of Middleton's seeming unrelenting melancholia. Finishing with 'Devil and the Angel', a tune that features soft cooing of 'Malcolm… Malcolm… You'll never be good at anything... and your songs are shite', Middleton affirms his status as an entirely amiable artist. It is the self-effacing charm of depression compressed into an hour, visiting all the emotionally destroyed landscapes on the way. This is, however, oddly comforting. 

And after all that, sleep is no trouble at all.]]></description><author>jake@indieworkshop.com (Jake Haselman)</author><pubDate>2006-08-23</pubDate></item><item><title>Green Man Festival '06 - part one</title><link>http://www.indieworkshop.com/articles.php?id=341</link><description><![CDATA[In the shadow of the Brecon Beacons, Wales, lies one of the liveliest and most individual festivals in contemporary music. The Green Man Festival, now in its fourth year, has gotten progressively bigger, more diverse and, yes, more different than any of its rivals. Not that its organisers, Jo and Danny from It's Jo And Danny, would ever dream of this being a competition. This year's headliners included Donovan, Sunburned Hand Of The Man and Silver Jews making their only festival appeaeance this year: it seems The Green Man has grown into middle age with grace and power to spare. So, intrepidly this writer ventured past the curvy roads of the Welsh countryside to the Glanusk Estate…

Friday… Day 1:

On a technical note, it seems pertinent to say that the digital camera I was using experienced some 'transfer issues'. Consequently, only a few photographs have survived from Day 1. Days 2 and 3 are, however, full of 'em. 

First off, its important to note that The Green Man is a much more eco-friendly festival than most. Toilets are emptied at least twice a day, all the food is organic and there are recycling bins everywhere. With this in mind, it became very easy to fall in love with main stage opener Chris TT. His green-conscious balladry and political whimsy are entirely reminiscent of a more portly Billy Bragg, but without the hard edges. Where Bragg scrooged his way through his songs, Mr. TT merely strokes them into life with his clever poetry and beautiful acoustic arrangements, warmed with striking Rhodes piano. The crowd are hesitant to accept his twee-isms at first, but as soon as the line 'war is bad, well done, have a biscuit' is uttered in 'Preaching To The Converted', they are swept along too. The Shortwave Set follow with monumental gusto, with their inventive sampling a la The Beta Band thoroughly invigorating all around them. One wonders whether or not the songwriting would stand up without the turntabling genius of it all, but it's hard to care with this much sheer cool and poise flying around the stage. So much so that the sun came out, after the clouds threatening to chuck themselves all over us. Maybe a bit less smug banter from their singer and they'll be winners. Good wig-out ending too. 

Philip Roebuck proclaims himself to be a one-man band, 'a dead breed' as he put it himself. And with good reason, as his brand of shamanistic, demonically possessed banjo playing and bass drum (attached to his back) thumping is a most visceral of thrills that would be marred by any intrusion from something as novel as a backing band. Roebuck's songs sound fairly similar to one another, all starting with a furious banjo riff before the boom-chish crashes the whole lot into oblivion, but it never gets stale. An incendiary performance.

Over to the hilariously-named Folkey Dokey stage, and we arrive to discover that Television Personalities have cancelled. Some young lad called Sweet Baboon takes his place and soothes the middle-aged angries who wanted TVPs. 

So back we traipse to the Main Stage in time for Circulus, a band whose sense of humour is either pure genius or sublime idiocy. Their 'Spinal Folk' attitude plays like a massive extension of the scene in Tap where the dwarves knock Stonehenge over, but with added hats, sabre wielding and sackbut. Whether to laugh or dance maniacally is a problem the audience has to deal with, but the whole lot is carried with complete seriousness and joyous Arabian modes aplenty.

Super Furry Animals front man Gruff Rhys then plays a completely rammed Folkey Dokey Stage. His Welsh-language set is mostly taken from his solo album, 'Yr Atal Genhedlaeth', but there are other treats along the way: 'Colonise The Moon' has been played at Super Furries shows before, and retains their plagal charm and sensitive treatment of whimsy, and his cover of the Meic Stevens Welsh-language classic 'Y Braw Houdini' is nothing short of scintillating. Casio-core looping experiments are equally as welcome, but the real climax is 'Pwdn Wy', the two-part tale of a relationship breakdown (due to, among other things, a tropical disease and 'the tyranny of distance). The latter portion is particularly soothing, furthering the case that Rhys possesses one of the finest voices in rock today. On Sunday (Day 3) I was lucky (and cheeky) enough to catch up with BBC Radio 1 DJ and Main Stage compére Huw Stephens. '…I went to see Gruff Rhys play in a cave this morning in the next valley over. There were about thirty people in the cave watching, and it was brilliant.' Say what you want about Rhys, his eccentric charm is perfectly suited to this festival. 

Back to the Main Stage for Donovan, who's set is played extremely safely. All the hits are dragged out from his 60s bubble, beginning with 'Sunshine Superman' and cycling through 'Mellow Yellow' as well as a load of others that make one think 'oh right, that was him…'. In all honesty, the most cheering aspect is the juvenile behind us who shouts 'We love you Jason!' every now and again. An opportunity missed, then, for Donovan to unleash his psychedelic material on a more informed audience than he is probably used to. Rather than an atmosphere of calm and summery relaxation, Donovan inspires a little frustration, besides some self-satisfaction and an indulgent middle acoustic section. A shame, but a tuneful one. 

Back to the campsite after a rather taxing first day. Unfortunately, Day 1 concludes with the realisation that we put the outer layer of our tent on inside-out. Praying for no rain… ]]></description><author>jake@indieworkshop.com (Jake Haselman)</author><pubDate>2006-08-22</pubDate></item><item><title>Kaiju Big Battel - NYC</title><link>http://www.indieworkshop.com/articles.php?id=340</link><description><![CDATA[The Kaiju Big Battel universe is an amazing thing. We had a general idea to expect a slugfest between good and evil, but the atmosphere in the Warsaw on Friday night blew us away before we even entered. A long line of people ranging in age from children to senior citizens stretched down the block and seethed with excitement hours before the actual Battel began. When the doors were finally opened, we surged into the venue and scrambled to buy Zywiec beers and stake out the best positions.

The Warsaw stage was not the primary focus of the main room. Instead, a runway ran from the stage to an enormous wrestling ring that had been constructed in the center of the floor. Looming over the raucous crowd in the center of the ring was a gigantic Empire State Building whose raison d'être was clearly to be climbed and then demolished. The smell of Polish food pervaded the Warsaw, with crowd members mashed up against each other balancing leaking paper plates of bigos, while Japanese characters (whose meaning was certainly lost on most of the audience) swam across the bottoms of the screens on either side of the stage overhead.

With 30+ monsters and heroes inhabiting the Kaiju universe, we knew we were in for a treat. Kaiju's post-manga, post-wrestling aesthetic embraces the wild senselessness of both of those media, and the sheer amount of effort and attention that goes into the costumes, choreography, stage set-up, and characterization surpasses Broadway shows. Julie Taymor got nothin' on Kaiju. As a blend of pop culture, mock pro-wrestling sans the creepy redneckism, Mexican and Japanese wrestling, Godzilla-esque monster movie action and rock-n-roll attitudes, Kaiju is a fantastic compilation of the best aspects of each of its constituent parts. We were struck by Kaiju Big Battel's freewheeling asexuality, a marked contrast to the arena-rock (makeup, hip-thrusting, groupie-bumping under the drum riser) and pro-wrestling (plotlines featuring a male porn star wrestler engaging in adultery with another wrestler's wife, resulting in said porn star's genitalia being removed by a samuari sword) spectacles that make up some of Kaiju's influences.

On top of this, the New York based Japanese Comic Punk band PEELANDER-Z was opening up the show. Neither of us had ever experienced Peelander-Z live before, and there really is no way you can prepare yourself for it. The music was frenetic, with the dancing band members decked out in fantastic costumes including wings, bright goggles, and crazy hairdos. A waspy thing plagued the stage from time to time.

The sometimes-unintelligible stereotypically-thick Japanese accent that Peelander-Z's bandleader sported was an asset, rather than a hindrance, as it contributed to the air of foreign chaos for which Peelander-Z was obviously striving. The manic, destructive mood drew from some of the same sources that spawned other reveling-in-confusion-and-chaos shows like Spike TV's Most Extreme Elimination Challenge, and the superhero music was far from a hands-off show--a parade of insanities not to be watched idly. We were enthused to watch a bowling game that began when the Yellow Peelander-Z band member was knocked unconscious, his limp form rolled at giant pins while audience members were invited on stage to take over instrument-playing duties from the band members and dance. 

In between bowls, the band members would quickly flash signs marked with individually-signifying symbols such as COMICS--MANGA, MEDIUM RARE--STEAK, and other small, satisfying bites of authenticity without the hassles of interpretation and contextualization. And contextualization and interpretation was totally unnecessary; the show would have refused such attempts at rational behavior and temperate pace. Like a roomful of unsupervised mini-geniuses, the show stomped and chanted forward at a rocket speed with everyone onstage and within the crowd spilling out energy every which way at once.

By the time the actual wrestling began, we were more pumped than the Ninth Ward. The opening battle featured THE APES OF WRATH and, fulfilling the promise of the ring, the match goal was to scale the Empire State Building and retrieve a flag from the top. Within minutes, the building was in shambles, with pieces raining down on the heads of the closest audience members ("Might want to stand back, ladies and gentlemen" the announcer informed us helpfully, post de facto). In the great tradition of professional wrestling, cheating was, of course, rampant, and a touch of outrage had begun to creep into the cheers of the crowd, adding to the mélange of emotion that would keep us engaged through the rest of the night.

It was fascinating to watch the plot of the Kaiju universe unfold before our eyes. The evening had a New York theme, and after the Empire State Building was hauled offstage in pieces, the crowd was baited with knowledgeable NYC in-jokes that took jabs at the reputations of certain Brooklyn neighbourhoods--all a lead-in to a battle in which Hero Intern failed in his mission to protect a giant model of the New Brooklyn Bridge from the fresh on the scene villain Gii, and thus failed to be promoted to be a full-on Kaiju hero.

Finally, the main event--a revenge match in which the iconic Kung Fu Chicken Noodle assisted a giant banana/plantain named Pedro in his quest to avenge the murder of his twin brother Pablo (which occurred earlier this year, in Boston) at the hands of former good guy Silver Potato and, of course, the equally iconic Dr. Cube.

Dr. Cube had been hyped as the villain all night (and throughout Kaiju's colorful history). As he leapt onto the turnbuckles to leer at the crowd, though, the boos he received were nearly drowned out by the cheers, and as the fight wore on, the cheers began to dominate. It's said that when pro wrestling Heels start getting more cheers than the Faces, the only options are for the villain to become a good guy or to raise the stakes by committing even more reprehensible acts. Dr. Cube merrily chose the latter, sprinkling in anti-Brooklyn chatter, squashing his opponents' testicles and finally removing his cube mask to reveal the disfigured, monstrous face of a former Nazi plastic surgeon. Yet his evil acts only seemed to seal the Brooklyn crowd more firmly into his corner.

Finally, the anthropomorphic chicken soup can pinned the Doctor, and we were surprised to find real howls of dismay issuing from our throats. And that is the success of Kaiju Big Battel. They've created an authentic, wild, celebratory wrestling-match atmosphere that makes the audience as much a part of the performance as the costumed individuals flying about onstage. With the hyperactive Louden Noxious announcing every move of the matches, even taking part in the battel, it's absolutely impossibly to not be swept up in the drama of the unfolding scene. The tone is a little different than a "regular" pro wrestling match--the audience seems to be much more fully "in" on the joke than a typical pro wrestling audience, and they cheer and boo on cue, fully aware that their trash-throwing and catcalling is as much a part of he show as Kung Fu Chicken Noodle's Five-Fingered Chowder Fist. Half the fun is the co-performance. With a complicit crowd, KBB is even faker than professional wrestling--but is a far more authentic experience.]]></description><author>jake@indieworkshop.com (Jake Haselman)</author><pubDate>2006-08-21</pubDate></item><item><title>Podcast - Vol. 1</title><link>http://www.indieworkshop.com/articles.php?id=339</link><description><![CDATA[Always innovators and perching on the cusp of the technological age, we at indieworkshop are now venturing into the realm of podcasting.  We know, we know, another podcast that's too long, too big, filled with stuff you probably will only listen to once (if you even remember to listen to it after you download it), and made by a bunch of people you've never even met and probably wouldn't want to if you were granted the opportunity.   But this is different.  You come to indieworkshop to get away from the norm, away from the scornful, holier than thou elitists and the disillusioned record store clerks.  You come here to read about the books, films, and art that suit you best and yes, you come here for the music, well now you can hear it.  We spend a good deal of our time here telling you about what we're listening to and we've decided to share some of our favorites with our dear readers.

Every new podcast from us will have a sort of theme to go along with, think of it as a little mini-mixtape from us to you.  Be sure to check back with us for the new installments as they will come out from time to time.  If you have any questions, comments, and even requests, don't hesitate to email us.

Volume One: The Chopper Searchlight - Download or stream
Our inaugural podcast starts off our series with a trip into the foggy and spacious pasture of what we'd like to think of as dream rock.  We've included six tracks that span from the starkly lucid to the radiantly surreal.  We start off with some namelessnumberheadman, take you back to some Seefeel, ground you with some Logh, put you back in the air with The Appleseed Cast, and leave you with a few surprises here and there along the way. Download it, put your headphones on, and drift off. - PD

Namelessnumberheadman - In the Throes of Giving Up
When We Leave, We Will Know Where We've Been (Urinine Records)

This is a band I will continue to champion and love until I die, even if fame doesn't find them.  Three crazy talented guys from Kansas City have created two albums of electronic pop masterpieces that I still play quite often.  This song is the epitome of their dreary pop gems, with it's slow moving intro building to its melancholy climax.  If you haven't heard more by this band, hopefully this will inspire you to seek them out. - JH

Plants – Acorn Child 
The Mind is a Bird in the Hand (Audio Dregs)

The opening track on their debut LP.  It just sends chills up and down my back.  Everything to the haunted intro to the minimalist guitar work to the infectious, yet challenging vocal melody.  It's just got everything a good psych-folk opener should have.  It takes you gently by the wrist and makes you feel comfortable as it leads you into its world. - JH

Logh - War Ensemble (Slayer cover)

Yeah, that's right, this mellow, crooning Swedish band covers one of the most revered metal acts of our time. AND, do it amazingly well.  If you didn't know this was a Slayer song you'd have no idea it was a cover.  The band masterfully takes the thrash metal classic and molds it into a Logh song… crazy. - JH   

The Appleseed Cast – On Reflection
Low Level Owl Volume One (Deep Elm)

This song, aside from a brief intro, is the lead-off for what is arguably The Appleseed Cast's best work, the Low Level Owl albums.  Already a reliable band in their own right, Low Level Owl Volumes One and Two are unforgettable classics in the era of shoegazer emo.  Drowning you in the shimmers and wails of their atmospheric cluster of sound, this song pulls you up from the ground and makes you a nice seat in the clouds for the rest of LLO Vol. One, start out with this disc if you haven't given them a chance yet. - PD

Seefeel – Polyfusion 
Quique (Too Pure)

Released in 1993, Seefeel's debut full length is a blend of drone, noise, dub, and indie rock that was light-years ahead of its time.  Each track seeming like an endless loop of mind-expanding atmosphere, the band took live instruments and created something that seems to only be accomplished by the electronic drone acts of the day.  It will take you away, make you forget about the concept of time, and drift your body into a soft, hypnotic glow. - JH

This Will Destroy You – Quiet 
Young Mountain (Magic Bullet Records)

This Texas four-piece recently came through my hometown and floored me.  Though bearing equal parts Mono and Explosions in the Sky, they wander off into their own territory and create a place all their own.  I often think of these guys as the sophomore class of the new generation of post-rock, give them a little more time and I bet folks will be clamoring over them the same way we used to clamor over EITS four years ago.  - PD
]]></description><author>jake@indieworkshop.com (Jake Haselman)</author><pubDate>2006-08-14</pubDate></item><item><title>Yip-Yip</title><link>http://www.indieworkshop.com/articles.php?id=338</link><description><![CDATA[Members
Brian Esser
Jason Temple



Spawned at the beginning 2001, Yip-Yip is the brainchild of Brian Esser and Jason Temple, two Floridians with a row of keyboards, a drum machine, a variety of digital manipulators, and a wonderfully twisted sense of the electronic world.  Unleashing a fury of self released CD-r's right out of the gate, this duo has been quietly building a loyal following and a strong back catalog. Playing something in the neighborhood of 200 shows nationwide, Yip-Yip is poised to become the cult favorite that their on-stage costumes would imply.

Wrapped up like mummies, the duo hover over their keyboards, creating the closest representation of analog techno the world may ever see.  With In The Reptile House, the guys newest release, Esser and Temple have put forth their most accessible album to date.  With an experimental ear, the guys take on the 4-on-the-floor world of Detroit area beats.  Constructed in their trademark 2-minute blasts of energy, the guys have seemed to evolve into furious dance-masters.  Instead of letting the noise and nashing of sound over take each track, the songs are beat centered and flow effortlessly along as if it were some 19 year old at a rave… on E.

Sharing bills with anyone from The Locust to The Gossip to Animal Collective, it's only a matter of time before everyone has had an eyeful of these costume-wearing madmen behind the keys.  Continuing to record their music in their bedrooms has helped to keep their laboratory like experiments raw and fresh.  Even with an effort as accessible as In The Reptile House, the duo retain this basement quality that keeps the punk kids interested and perks up the ears of the usually slick-production-listening techno jocky.

Manipulating basic Rumba beats into some sort of synth-punk cornucopia of sounds, Yip-Yip have worked their lo-fi magic right into the fabric of the underground scene in the south.  Now it's just a matter of time before the rest of the country catches on. 

Discography:

(2001)1 - CD-r - Self Released
(2002)Skills - CD-r - Self Released
(2003)High Heel To Mammal EP - CD-r - Self Released
(2004)Pro-Twelve Thinker - Cd-r - Self Released
(2005)Pro-Twelve Thinker - CD/LP - SAF Records
(2005)Munch Much Mush - Split 7" W/2Up - SAF Records
(2005)Candy Dinner Single - Mini-Cd-r/Zine - Self-Release
(2006)In the Reptile House - CD - SAF Records

Yip-Yip - Slime Shuns Sun Shine - MP3

Yip-Yip - 24 Tubes - MP3 

]]></description><author>jake@indieworkshop.com (Jake Haselman)</author><pubDate>2006-08-10</pubDate></item></channel>
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