Download: Jack Oblivian “Ditch Road”

(from Disco Outlaw out now on Goner)

Jack Oblivian got his last name with Eric and Greg and their Popular Favorites but—like Cartwright and Reigning Sound—he found new greatness with his solo work. His Disco Outlaw is rock ‘n’ roll as natural as Charlie Feathers and Johnny Thunders and he’ll play his first show in Los Angeles in ten years tonight at the Echoplex. This interview by Chris Ziegler.

What’s your best blind pick-up line? To someone you’ve never met before?
Jack Oblivian (guitar/vocals): I always have a problem remembering names so I just say, ‘Hey, good-lookin’.’ Even if she’s drunk and puking you just say, ‘Are you gonna be okay, good-lookin’?’
How often are you laying lines on some girl who’s puking?
Jack Oblivian: I don’t know. It’s your responsibility to try to take care of them before you get them out of your house.
What were you like when you first got to Memphis? Like the day you got off the bus?
Jack Oblivian: I’d been there a few times when I was a kid. Since I was 12, I would come see these big shows—I think my first one was Rush. My mom was always afraid of me coming to these concerts and it was no big deal but I think when I saw Van Halen—the early version of Van Halen—that’s when I felt like I was at a concert that I was like, ‘Oh, this is what my mom is talking about.’ You could see whiskey bottles flying in the air—a really rowdy crowd. I really miss the golden age. By the time I was doing that, it was like the early ‘80s. I really wanted to see Kiss and AC/DC—Kiss was the thing I got into when I was like ten years old. I started out with comic books and then I moved over to the shelf on the right—so instead of becoming a comic geek I was a music fan. By the time the early ‘80s got here, music—as far as the big arena music—I didn’t like it that much. Going to places like this punk club called Antenna, I’d see the bands right up close and that was really exciting. That’s what drew me here. I think it was after I got out of high school that I moved here but I was always making trips.
What was the point of no return? Where you decided your life was going to be about music?
Jack Oblivian: I think it was since I was a little kid, even before I knew how to play. But as I got older and I moved here and actually tried—after a few years I realized I was working a crappy job and it wasn’t going anywhere and that’s when I figured out, ‘Well, am I going to keep doing this?’ So many years gone by and I realize, ‘Shit, this is what I’ve been doing.’ I think even if I wasn’t playing, I would be in it in some form or fashion.
Like producing?
Yeah, if I knew how. Or writing like you. That’s kind of my whole thing into music. At my impressionable age of 11 or 12 I would get these—like in Mississippi you could get Creem or Hit Parade—so I’d read about all these bands. The only ones you would hear about in Corinth were like Journey. I didn’t really hear the Ramones and those new wave type bands—the New York Dolls or whatever—until a few years later when I had a friend in high school who had an uncle who had all those records. So I went over to his house and all those records that I read about for years, he had ‘em all. I’d read about the bands—breaking up or making music—but I never actually heard them.
What was that weekend like? ‘Play me this! Play me that!’
Jack Oblivian: Yeah—we ended up being in a band together and that guy is Jimbo Mathus who was in the Squirrel Nut Zippers. That was Jimbo. Now when he talks about his music impressionable age, he doesn’t mention New York Dolls and all that stuff. And I’m still a friend of his—he’d say just blues and bluegrass and he leaves out all that. But he was like the biggest rocker at school.
Did he have a nickname?
Jack Oblivian: We had a nickname we called him that he didn’t like! I don’t know if I should say it—he might get mad.
Did you have a nickname?
Jack Oblivian: I had one when I was a little kid. Not when I was a teenager, but I had one. We had older cousins. Me and the younger cousin played music together and all these older cousins would pick on us. My cousins name was ‘Rut’ and mine was ‘Squoosh-head.’
‘Squoosh-head’?
Jack Oblivian: And then it later changed to ‘Squoosh.’ I’d say, ‘Why do you call me Squoosh-head?’ ‘Because your head looks like it’s been squooshed.’ Luckily by the time I got to junior high they had graduated so the name kinda went away. It was frightening just to walk across the yard if you see them—if it was one, it was okay but if you see two or three of them together, you immediately have to start running ‘cause they’re going to chase you. ‘There goes Squoosh-head! Catch him!’
Did you ever think of knocking out a song called ‘Squoosh-head Blues’?
Jack Oblivian: I thought about it, but I don’t want to bring the name back.
What three things do you think you have to happen in your life in order to write good songs?
Jack Oblivian: I don’t know—that’s a good question though. I think a lot of times when you want to write a song, you can’t. And then other times it’s just begging to come out and you pick up a guitar and it seems like it ain’t really nothing—just two or three chords—but then you find out later it is something. It’s just like going through something where you’ve had some things happen around you or with you—you’ve just been affected by it. Something’s gotta mark on you.
The very first song you ever wrote was for your cat—what came next? Songs about girls? Cars?
Jack Oblivian: I think girls followed next. I think the cat song was kind of forced. I was up in the attic and I was reading the Hit Parader where it has the song lyrics in the back to the hit songs of the day. I thought, ‘There’s not too much to this stuff.’ Without the music it just looks like ‘Baby, baby, oh yeah!’ So the cat walks by and I thought, ‘I’m gonna write a song called “Alley Cat.”’ I can’t remember how it went but I just did it the same way: ‘Alley cat, oh yeah!’ and shit like that.
What’s the easiest thing to write about?
Jack Oblivian: I think if I try to write too much about my real self, I get stumped. It’s like there’s not enough paper to get it all down, and I’ve done that before too—where I’ve had like three sheets of lyrics and I think, ‘I can’t put all this in a song.’ But you gotta step outside yourself and take a look. You know who you are, but somebody listening on the radio, they don’t really know. If you’re thinking too hard, you can’t do anything at all. A lot of times—sorta similar to a ‘Tenacious D’ episode—a lot of times I get the guitar and a tape recorder and push record to start writing a song but there’s just nothing there. It just don’t happen that way. You can’t just say, ‘Tomorrow I get off work at 5 and I’m gonna write a song!’ You can but it’s probably not that good.
Do you ever run out of a bar bathroom and call your voicemail and sing a riff into it?
Jack Oblivian: That’s a good idea. I never thought of that. A lot of times when something works out, it kinda comes from somebody else’s idea. I was trying to learn a Chuck Berry song to sit in with these guys. I was always playing the same two songs and I wanted to learn a Chuck Berry song and I could see the chords and I was thinking, ‘I can probably play it but it might not be very well.’ Then all of a sudden I started playing something that became my own song. I had to go back to the Chuck Berry song and to see if I ripped it off. But no—there’s two of the same chords but it’s a totally different song. So that kinda got the wheel turning. If you’re a songwriter who can’t get it going, I think the best way is to check out songs by people you like and see how they work and maybe get something started. But just make sure you aren’t aping their exact song.
They asked Sam Phillips how to produce a good record and he said, ‘Well, I don’t know anything about producing—but if you want rock ‘n’ roll, I can reach down and pull it out of your asshole.’
Jack Oblivian: Yeah—he had some attitude.
Is that the secret?
Jack Oblivian: I think that’s maybe his approach, so to speak.
Was Sun an eerie place when you worked there? Knowing all the history?
Jack Oblivian: Yeah—sometimes you forget about it. The first couple days it’s overwhelming. I was talking to a friend of mine the other day about how it’s the greatest job because when you work in the kitchen it doesn’t get busy til—well, busloads of people come through on tours, so occasionally it gets busy—but most of the time you clock in, get some coffee, and sit down and listen to music. I was thinking about it—why did I ever quit that job?
What job were you happiest to quit?
Jack Oblivian: There’s been a bunch of ‘em. There was a construction job. It was mutual—I quit and they were firing me. I worked there for like a week. These guys were kinda fucked up. My job was driving a truck around delivering tools to these welding worksites and after the second week I came in and they had a brand new truck. ‘This is the truck you’re going to drive—take care of it.’ The very first run I go all the way down the interstate to pick up some tools and then all they way back—and I forgot to take the emergency brake off. I just kept punching the gas, like, ‘Why wont this fucking thing go? This truck drives like shit!’ By the time I got back—like 25 miles—to the shop and started slowing down, I could smell something burning. ‘What is that burning? Smells like something’s on fire in the neighborhood!’ I pulled up in the driveway and smoke was shooting out of the wheels and I thought they were gonna kill me. One of the guys came out and he was like, ‘You’re coming with me!’ He got in a car and we’re doing like 80 mph down the street and I’m freaking out. Then he stopped and he turns around back to the shop and at that point I just wanted to get out of the car because I thought he might run off the road. But he was trying to keep me away from the big boss—the real boss who was probably going to shoot me. I said, ‘I think it’s better if I just leave.’ ‘Yeah, I think that’s a good idea—you better get out of here.’ But those guys—I didn’t feel bad about messing the truck up ‘cause they weren’t too cool. They kept referring to me as a drug dealer ‘cause I had sideburns. They’d keep saying, ‘Jack, we’re paying you more money than you’d make selling drugs in the street!’ ‘I don’t sell drugs. ‘Whatever, Jack!’
You’re lucky you didn’t have a mustache, too.
Jack Oblivian: Yeah, these guys were really fucking redneck.
Is that the most expensive thing you ever broke? Or the closest you’ve ever been to getting shot?
Jack Oblivian: The closest I ever got to being beat up, I think. I had a gun pulled on me when I was delivering pizzas, which was scary. I always tip the pizza guy good.
How much of this stuff ever turned into songs? Like ‘Ditch Road’—is that the song you wrote after you broke the truck?
Jack Oblivian: I think that was inspired by someone I knew who had an alcohol problem and everything was falling apart. But there’s a lot of Ditch Roads. When I was a kid there was a little dirt path near our house that people used for a shortcut. My family lived by this factory that makes pantyhose that my mother’s side of the family owns. My granddad started the business in the ‘50s with my five uncles and a couple of them took it over. But there was this beaten path along the side of the road—a ditch and it had a name called ‘Ditch Road.’ ‘Why is it called Ditch Road?’ Well, it’s because there’s a ditch by a road.
Have you ever seen a human body part in a pawn shop?
Jack Oblivian: No. Have you?
No but I heard about it. Like somebody pawns their prosthetic leg.
They’re hard up for money then. The few times I’ve actually tried to sell something to a pawn shop, they never offered enough money. Like one time it was a Silvertone amp and I think they wanted like five bucks. Another time, my high school class ring—and they didn’t even want it. Not even five dollars and I was like, ‘Fuckin’ shit!’
When was the last time you closed down a bar that wasn’t in Memphis?
Jack Oblivian: That happens a lot. When you’re in the band you get a little bit of privilege. But a lot of bars around here, if people are still partying they just lock the doors and make it look like it’s closed and let people stay.
Are they any places with a special stool they don’t let anybody else sit on?
Jack Oblivian: No, I don’t have an Elvis booth or anything like that. I may get a break on the bar tab every once in a while—or maybe I think it’s a break.
You said with your music you wanted to try and do something that was like a Salvador Dali painting but with one chord. What exactly are you talking about there?
I don’t know—I think I was just saying something. Maybe what I meant was dumbing it down. I got this new tune I’m working on called ‘Mass Confusion.’ I did it for the Oblivians when I thought we were gonna record.
The Oblivians were going to record?
Jack Oblivian: We were talking about recording a 7” before this tour but it never happened. I ended up doing the song with my band. When we tried to practice it with the Oblivians, we couldn’t do it. I thought I had dumbed it down enough because the Oblivians are really primitive. Kind of like we said earlier, when I’m inspired by someone else’s song—this would be compared to the Temptations’ ‘Ball of Confusion.’ It’s real simple but once the vocals get going it’s not the same—but you can tell it’s the red-headed stepchild of ‘Ball of Confusion.’ I think Tempations’ ‘Ball of Confusion’ is an epic masterpiece with all the strings and everything, and this is down to a five-piece and just really simple. But it still gets the same message of a world gone crazy.
An undying message.
Jack Oblivian: That song will never go out of style.
What do you think about this Oblivians renaissance?
Jack Oblivian: I don’t know, man. I can’t understand it myself. I think it’s just so simple that people just connect with it. It’s pretty weird that some little band years ago, people wont let it go away.
Do you want them to?
Jack Oblivian: No, I think it’s good. Naturally you would like for everything to be still in print and people still digging it. And if it happens with one of your things, I guess you’re lucky.
You were talking about the New York Dolls before—do you feel like a New York Doll yourself? A couple years too early with something everybody loves now?
Jack Oblivian: I don’t know. It’s maybe a little bit different from the New York Dolls situation. Shorter heels.
You said you toured Europe and people were flipping out with cameras like you were Bob Dylan.
Jack Oblivian: This was on the solo tour. We went to Serbia. There would be 2 or 3 people taking photos and then like 2 or 3 feet away there were people taking photos of you getting your photo taken—you don’t really know which way to look. We had such a hard time getting in the place at the border—it was actually kind of scary. We were trying to tell them we didn’t want to go—just let us go back! They had their automatic rifles out. I think they just wanted money. The booking agent just said, ‘Put 300 Euros on the dash and they’ll know that’s for them.’ We’re like, ‘We’re not gonna do that!’
Are the Oblivians ever coming to L.A.?
Jack Oblivian: We played a few months ago and we haven’t really talked about doing anything again. I’m not sure.
What would help convince everybody?
Jack Oblivian: I think if it was a bill with a couple bands that we really wanted to see—which would probably be bands that aren’t together anymore. That’s kind of what happened when the Gories said they would get together and we thought, ‘Well, we could stand playing a couple weeks and seeing the Gories every night.’
Have you heard that story about Alex Chilton dropping acid with Dennis Wilson and Charles Manson?
Jack Oblivian: Somebody told me that the other day. King Louie, he’s friends with Alex and we were talking about the Beach Boys—that he was still friends with them or at least was in the ‘90s when he was dating Peggy from the Gories and they were at Brian Wilson’s birthday party. That’s gotta be a trip hanging out with the Mansons doing acid.
What’s your own Beach Boys-meet-Manson moment?
Jack Oblivian: The Manson-Beach Boys sandwich? I don’t know—if I did, I probably shouldn’t say. I don’t think anything can top Manson. William Eggleston was up here one time playing the piano. ‘Course he could hardly play it. He just kind of hits it. He was really drunk, but everybody gathered around the piano. I haven’t seen him in a while. Somebody saw him the other day in an airport just sitting there. They didn’t talk to him. They said he was just sitting there like he was ready to go or maybe he was just lost.
Perfect Sound Forever did an Oblivians interview and asked Eric if he’d ever been arrested, psychotic, near death or bored—how about you?
Jack Oblivian: I’ve been bored. That happens a lot. I’m bored most of the time.
Are you bored more now that you’re older?
Jack Oblivian: Sometimes I get bored with the things I used to occupy myself with. My most boring times—probably with any kid—is when you’re too old for toys and too young for girls or to get a day job. When you’re 12 and 13—that’s when you start throwing rocks at windows to hear the crash. That’s when I started getting into rock because I was so bored. That was my cure for boredom. I’m still bored with life.
When was the last time you were lit only by candlelight?
In candlelight? It’s been a while. This apartment I have now, we’re on the same block as a TV station and a police precinct is right at the end of the street. A couple years ago there was a giant windstorm that came through town—people called it Hurricane Elvis. Usually when a tornado hits, it’s usually across the river in West Memphis or it’s out east and it doesn’t really hit midtown. But this wasn’t a tornado so there was no warning. It was just in the middle of the night. The wind came through and ripped up trees and tore up houses—messed up a lot of shit and so the power was out for like 2 months. But we never lost our power. And my friends would come over—nobody could work ‘cause the power was out everywhere. They’d get on their bikes and come over because we had power and we were watching TV with the air on. The first day after it happened, people were kind of excited. ‘Wow, everything’s wiped out!’ And the weather was still breezy after the storm. Then a couple days later the sun came out and it started getting hot and everybody started getting really mad. They’d stop by our house like, ‘You’re the only motherfuckers in town with power.’ ‘Yeah, we’ve been watching the news—oh, that’s right, you don’t get the news.’ They would eventually warm up to us ‘cause it was the only place they could go and chill out and watch TV.
That’s a pretty good window into human nature.
Jack Oblivian: It’s been a few years but I’ve learned the lesson after not paying the electrical bill and having the power go out and having to go a little while with the candle. That really changes your lifestyle for the evening. I’m usually not prepared with a big candles. I just have a few birthday candles. And if I can’t afford the power bill, usually you cant afford much more than just a beer. Theres this young guy down the street—have you ever heard of the bar called the Lamplighter? It’s a small neighborhood bar. For years there’s been the same bartender but recently this guy in his early 30s—he’s like a Goner kid—he somehow got his foot in the door and he’s a bartender there. He has this drink he made up—I haven’t had it and I probably never will, but I guess he likes Vienna sausage and he’s got this drink called a Mozart and its got the juice from the sausage with Pabst. And he actually drinks it. He loves Vienna sausage.
I have a friend who’s a bartender and he made this drink called the Abandoned Couch where there’s whiskey and the juices from the bottom of the tray of limes and then he would take change out of his pocket, put it in the glass, pour Everclear over it and light it to sterilize the coins. When you finished, there was like 18 cents in the bottom.
Jack Oblivian: Oh, God. Try not to swallow the money.
I heard you used pocket change for drum tracks on one of your records.
Jack Oblivian: That’s on the American Slang record I did a few years ago. I was just trying to find a drum sound. I lived in a place at that time where I couldn’t really set up a full drum set and get loud. I wrapped a mic around my neck and I’d tap for the bass drum and hit my hand on my pocket for the snare drum and it had change in it to make a tambourine-like sound. It was easier to play a drum beat doing that than it is sitting behind a drum set. The microphone doesn’t know where it’s coming from as long as it sounds good.
Jim Dickinson said Memphis was about individuals—you couldn’t organize it and that’s why it worked. Do you think that’s true?
Jack Oblivian: I think he’s got something there. I don’t think there’s a machine kind of thing going on. I have a lot of friends who play music and we play together but our music doesn’t really sound alike or anything. A guitar player in my band has his own band—it’s still rock ‘n’ roll but it’s totally different.
Who’s in your band right now?
Jack Oblivian: The guitar player—his band is John Paul Keith and the 1-4-5s and it’s his rhythm section. I had Harlan and Harlan’s drummer play with me for a while but Harlan’s out of the country right now and he’s got a baby. He was in the band. He’s another one—he can play with me and it’s skuzzy rock or whatever,but then in his music it sounds like something that’ll make the ladies take their panties off.
Have you ever actually seen that happen?
Jack Oblivian: I think it’d be Tom Jones or something. I remember my first gig—I was 13 and I played in this parking-lot Southern-rock fest thing in a small town in Tennessee. We did instrumental ‘Paranoid.’ Stuff like that. We weren’t ready for a gig at all but there were these ladies. My cousin said, ‘See those ladies? They’re biker chicks and they’ll show you their tits—just give them the thumbs-up.’ So I gave them the thumbs-up a couple times and all these ladies started pulling their shirts up and jiggling their tits around like big mamas and I was like, ‘Oh my God.’ Our parents didn’t know we were there. We’d snuck away and we got in trouble when we got back. The police shut the show down because once those rednecks started drinking it got out of hand. But it was pretty exciting.

JACK OBLIVIAN WITH LUCERO AND JOHN PAUL KEITH AND THE 1-4-5S ON TUE., NOV. 3, AT THE ECHOPLEX, 1154 GLENDALE BLVD., ECHO PARK. 8 PM / $15-$17 / 18+. ATTHEECHO.COM. JACK OBLIVIAN’S DISCO OUTLAW IS OUT NOW ON GONER. VISIT JACK OBLIVIAN AT MYSPACE.COM/OFFICIALJACKOBLIVIAN.

Download: Box Elders “Hole In My Head”

(from Alice And Friends out now on Goner)

Box Elders just left their home in Nebraska on the heels of their absolutely winning Alice and Friends album on Goner, which is ferociously adorable bubblegumistic rock ‘n’ roll recorded perfectly through a stack of furry comforters. They play tonight with Nobunny, Hunx and his Punx and Pearl Harbour. This interview by John Henry.

What made you move out of Omaha?
Jeremiah McIntyre (guitar): A girl I’m seeing, she got a job in San Francisco. I like it there. It’s nice. It’s like fall all the time. One thing that’s nice about winter, though—the first day of spring. You almost feel like you’re high because you’ve been suffering through winter and then the first day it’s really really nice and you don’t have to work is really exciting. I think I might miss that if the weather’s the same all the time.
How does Omaha manage to produce bands like Box Elders?
Jeremiah McIntyre: Omaha has always been kind of a weird countercultural town. There are a ton of hippies that some how ended up in Nebraska so there have always been record stores and bookstores and before the Internet you could always find off-the-wall stuff. You were never isolated in that way. If you really wanted to step out from what everyone else was doing and look around for something else, it was always there. I still think Omaha has the best record stores because the prices are great and if you dig you find things you never would expect. I came out to San Francisco and record shopping is almost no fun. You can find whatever record you want and the prices are dumb.
What kind of records did you find there that helped inspire the band today?
Jeremiah McIntyre: People get so hung up on their ‘sound,’ thinking it’s something they thought up. To me it’s just folk music. Ideas bounce around between people’s heads, sometimes getting smashed into something that seems new. Anytime you have any idea, there’s a thousand people that are having similar ideas. Yeah, sure—I grew up listening to ‘60s stuff because my parents listened to it. Then I got really into punk—all the L.A. stuff, Posh Boy and whatever. Then I got obsessed with John Peel and started buying all the Peel Session records I could find. Then noise, some industrial stuff, New Zealand and Scottish pop, too. In Omaha you could find that stuff for cheap because you didn’t have to compete with collectors. The whole record collector thing—those guys weird me out. I’ve always felt that they didn’t care so much about what was on the record as much as the record itself. I guess I can understand an obsession with something being rare or esoteric, but some people take it too far. I just want to go out and find stuff to listen to—hear what people have to say. I always get excited about new bands.
I think it’s great that Goner put out your album—I always thought they had that same idea of just putting out what you liked and not worrying about a genre.
Jeremiah McIntyre: Eric Oblivian has some of the broadest music tastes of anyone I know—stuff that you never would suspect. It’s thought of as being a garage label, even though they do stuff that you wouldn’t call that. No one gives a fuck about commercial radio. It’s so bland and so middle of the road that no one even notices it. The stuff Goner does, people are passionate about it. Garage rock or whatever—they hung on to a D.I.Y. mentality. The noise folks did, too. The people that talk about it and write about it are involved in the whole process. When you go to whatever city they live in, they’re at the show. They probably booked it. You’re going to meet that person. When it comes to whatever indie rock has become, it’s so removed from the people doing it and the people buying it. Someone on Terminal Boredom might shit talk on my band but I’ve met them and I know who they are. That’s cool—at least you’re a person, not filler between ads. People will argue about this and argue about that but I have to step back and be like, ‘Oh, at least they’re moved in some way.’ Even if they hate my band at least there’s excitement. The way I see it is the people that hate it are just as important as the people that like it. Especially with rock ‘n roll—it’s the feeling of being under siege.
Last time you were in town, your brother Clayton said he was going to start a thrash metal band—has he done it?
Jeremiah McIntyre: Yeah—he’s way into metal. Metal is kind of like that, too. It seems to be under siege from the whole world. That’s what was always cool about metal. It was always like an ‘us or them’ mentality. Underground music is always accused of being elitist but it makes people feel like they’ve got friends—like they belong to something. There’s huge social aspects of music and if you try to say, ‘No, it’s just about the music! Blah-blah-blah!’ then you’re missing a lot of the point. Music has always been social—it’s dudes sitting round the fire making flute noises. It’s always about people. Another thing I like about metal is—we had this show that got cancelled because the promoter wanted to do a Slayer concert, so we got to go see Slayer at this venue that was ridiculously small for Slayer to be playing at. The kids were moshing to the music that was playing over the P.A. before Slayer even came out on stage. There was a pit to the house music. I was just really blown away how excited metal kids are about music.
What was it like when the whole band lived in the same house?
Jeremiah McIntyre: It was hard. It’s hard having roommates and it’s hard being in a band. Dave who is the drummer of our band is easily the most patient person on earth. My brother and I have really annoying fights. I know the fights are dumb even while we are having them. If I was involved in the fight and had to listen to them, I would lose my mind.
Did you guys practice in the house? Was anyone ever late?
Jeremiah McIntyre: Yeah—it was economical but we had to wake Clayton up physically—drag him to wake up. Practice is fun. It never seems like a drudge. It is weird all living in a house. It can get tense when you’re in a mini-van for a month and then you come home and you’re like, ‘Oh, you again.’
Where did you get the name ‘Alice and Friends’ for the album?
Jeremiah McIntyre: It’s named after this restaurant in Chicago. It’s this Korean vegan BBQ that’s run by this Korean church that seems to really want you to join it. If it is a cult, they might be the most pleasant cult I’ve ever had an interaction with. The restaurant is really good. I’m usually pretty critical and I usually don’t like vegan fake meat, but it works. There’s a lot of sermons going on when you’re there and the menus have a lot of lessons from the teacher—whoever the leader of the organization is.
I really like the art on the cover—who did that?
Jeremiah McIntyre: It’s this guy Michael Gruber from Omaha. The record store that put out our 45—he’s the brother-in-law of the guy who owns it. He does really off-the-wall fantasy art and he was bringing the stuff into the shop and showing it to us and the one drawing we were really into. When you go over to his house and hang out with him, he collects swords and he tells you about every time he’s seen Alice Cooper, which is a lot. It’s Dungeons and Dragons rock ‘n’ roll fantasy kind of stuff.

BOX ELDERS WITH NOBUNNY, HUNX AND HIS PUNX AND PEARL HARBOUR ON TUE., OCT. 20, AT THE MOUNTAIN BAR, 473 GIN LING WAY, CHINATOWN. 9 PM / $7 / 21+. MYSPACE.COM/BURGERRECORDS. THE BOX ELDERS’ ALICE AND FRIENDS IS OUT NOW ON GONER. VISIT THE BOX ELDERS AT BOXELDERS.BLOGSPOT.COM OR MYSPACE.COM/BOXELDERS.

Download: Ty Segall “It #1″

(from Lemons out July 14 on Goner)

Since the Epsilons’ first record, released in early 2006, Ty Segall has proved himself to be one of the most prolific members of the California music community, releasing LPs, 7”s and tapes of his many bands at an alarming rate. As guitarist/vocalist of the Epsilons; member of Traditional Fools; part time drummer for Party Fowl, Fresh and Onlys and Sic Alps, and leader of his own namesake band, which switches between the one-man-band format to its current full band incarnation, Ty Segall has managed to craft a unique sound and create a scene all his own, which has lead him into the arms and hearts of legendary garage rock figures like Eric Oblivian (Goner Records founder, member of Oblivians, Bad Times) and John Dwyer (Castle Face Records founder, member of Coachwhips, Thee Oh Sees, the Hospitals, etc.).

On Ty Segall’s second solo LP Lemons, released on Memphis’ Goner, Segall has toned down the yelps and howls he favored on his first solo record and the preceding Epsilons recordings in favor of an attempt to favor a more universal lo-fi garage rock sound. At times on this record this pays off, such as the beautifully trudgy “In Your Car,” but washed of the distorted vocals and frantic guitars this record feel less like a Ty Segall record than I would like.

This record has a much slower tempo compared to his previous outings, and as most of his long players were pressed to vinyl at 45 rpm and I have a strong feeling that this one will be at 33 1/3. Some songs, like “Johnny” and “Can’t Talk,” feel like a continuation from his early recordings and these to me are the brightest moments on the album. However, there is also “Rusted Dust,” which to me is a little too close to a slow Nirvana, or even Wavves, song for my liking. I don’t mean to criticize this song, but for someone with as unique of a voice as Ty’s I feel it’s a shame when he starts to sound like someone else. But to offset the slower moments, there is also a faithful rendition of Captain Beefheart’s “Dropout Boogie,” which is a cover you could never go wrong with. In all, I enjoy this record and I eagerly await his next, which knowing him will probably be out within a few months.

— Daniel Clodfelter

(from Too Thirsty 4 Love on Goner)

Quintron invented the dream-machine-slash-drum-machine called the Drum Buddy and Miss Pussycat invented Pussycat Caverns for her puppets, and from their Spellcaster Lodge in New Orleans they are re-inventing America. They are equally able to befriend Burmese pythons and Lou Reed, but only one appears on their new album cover. This interview by John Henry

Where did you come up with the idea for the new record cover? It’s really great.
Quintron (vocals/organ/drum buddy): The idea is we had access to a twenty-foot-long Burmese python and it was time to make a record. That’s the idea. My friend Jeanie wanted to have her picture taken with this huge snake and the location happened to be our house and, well, it would just be ridiculous NOT to make a record cover with a twenty-foot Burmese python, right? I think that I can not disclose the name of the person who owns this snake because it is very illegal to own a snake of that breed and that size. Let’s call him ‘a friend.’
You took the photo inside the Spellcaster Lodge—is that the new look of your venue since you’ve repaired it from the storm damage?
Q: Yes, that is the new Spellcaster Lodge—decorated entirely with Miss Pussycat’s design of Mardi Gras petal paper, which is used to decorate truck floats for the final parade every Fat Tuesday.
Miss Pussycat (vocals/puppets): It’s like an inside-out Mardi Gras float.
How much repair did you have to do to the Lodge after Katrina?
Q: Basically—tear down all the walls and rebuild them because they were moldy. All the walls are soundproof—four layers thick—so we had to take them all down and rebuild them. Rebuild the doors, rebuild the door casings, put new wall covering on, new sound system—everything on the inside needed to be done.
What did you do during Gustav? Did you take off or batten down the hatches?
Q: We went straight to the eye of the hurricane in Baton Rouge and stayed with a colonel friend of ours. We got to see the hurricane and run around in it because it doesn’t flood in Baton Rouge—it’s above sea level but that’s actually where it went. They had more violent winds there than here, but we got to get really drunk and run around in the hurricane and watch oak trees fall down.
P: It was a rare daytime hurricane. Normally this kind of thing happens at night, but this one was daytime so we got to actually see it and have fun with wicked old Mother Nature.
Q: Then the colonel made us clean his yard and his neighbors’ yards.
Who’s the colonel?
P: We can’t say.
Q: But can we please stop talking about hurricanes? I’m sick of tragedy defining us. Fuck Katrina, fuck Gustav, fuck recovery, fuck rehab, and fuck God. We didn’t drown, life rules, and our record cover has an illegal snake picture on it. THE END!
I heard you have a new puppet stage that throws up. What’s that all about?
P: Yes, my puppet theatre can talk. It can talk and it has eyes and teeth and arms and trap doors.
Do you have a new puppet show that goes along with the new theatre?
P: Yes, I do. It’s called the Haunted Art Gallery and it’s about the art world. See I think when you go to see art it would be really cool if it would give you—and I’m serious now—if it would give you psychic powers. If it was a vortex into the astral plane—that’s what I always want. I want it to be like a coven. So that’s what it’s about. It’s about witchcraft and parapsychology in the arts.
Are you bringing this on tour and doing it in L.A.?
P: Yes, and I made my puppet theatre two feet wider. Our van is so full. Quintron has started bringing more equipment. He brings two Leslie speakers now so I felt like I had to take up more space. There’s not room for anything else now.
What about the newest Drum Buddy model—will you be using that on this tour as well? What’s different about this one than the old one?
Q: The cabinets for new design are made from ‘sinker cypress’ which is this 300-to-800-year-old wood that was submerged in the swamps of Louisiana and harvested for furniture. I think it was first harvested for outdoor furniture and siding and then it became as precious as gold and people started using it for really fine furniture and there’s only a little bit of it left. I know people in the woodworking industry here and they’ve had bits and scraps left. So I had enough to make ten Drum Buddies out of this very precious sinker cypress wood. Electronically the difference is the circuits are cleaned up, it doesn’t buzz as much, and you can now play through it. It’s now an effects pedal in tandem with the Drum Buddy sounds.
Did you sell any of the new models?
Q: All of them except I kept one. I sold one to Nels Cline who is an improvisational guitar player from Los Angeles. He’s also the newish guitar player in Wilco. I sold one to Laurie Anderson in New York. I got to hang out with the Louster. I got to jam with Lou Reed and Laurie Anderson for forty-five minutes or I don’t know—for a long time. Lou was very suspicious of the Drum Buddy at first. Laurie Anderson got very excited when I brought it there to give her her first lesson and show her how to use it. She said, ‘Oh, my friend Lou will really love this.’ So Lou came over and he was really suspicious and assumes that everything is an audition for him. He thought it was for him or I was trying to make him one or that I was some kind of door-to-door Drum Buddy salesman. He really thought that, I think. After a while he got his distortion out and started playing through it, and he got really into it. Then she played her violin through it. Laurie Anderson is a really sensitive incredible musician. You can tell from meeting her and hearing her improvise for two minutes that she was really an artist. It’s suited to her music, I think. Her whole thing is simplicity—a childlike simplicity.
Is she going to use it when she plays live?
Q: I haven’t heard anything—not a peep about whether she’s using it, whether it’s in a closet, whether it’s been recorded in the studio. I’m pretty sure it’s not on tour because we know her bass player and he would have told us if it was on tour.
Along with the new record you put out you released a puppet video—is that the same episode you did for Vice TV?
P: This is the first season of Trixie and the Treetrunks but it has credits. Online it didn’t have credits, and the credits are really beautiful. It’s got some bonuses like Witch in The Club bloopers and the Making Of which was for Dutch television that they let us put on as an extra bonus. Quintron was the director of photography and our friend Darren Deluco helped us out some and Jayme Kalal and Lefty Parker and tons of our friends were puppeteers. Jayme Kalal was there for almost every shoot—he’s great. It was all in our basement basically.
How long is this tour and where are you going?
Q: We’re basically going to go on tour for the rest of the year and then into next spring and summer. Not constantly but we’re going to go to Mars and back. We haven’t been out on a real tour for a year. Well, we did a tour with the Black Lips and we did a tour with Peaches.
P: We went on a tour last summer with our friends from New Orleans.
Q: King Louie’s band Black Rose, The Pussuaders—a Persuaders cover band—Overnight Lows but that was just a southern tour.
What made you go with Goner Records to put the new album out?
Q: Because they rule and they are the best record label in the world and we’ve been friends forever. They’re on it—they are so on it. Eric and Zac and their store and I don’t know! It’s hilarious that we can be on a garage-rock label and Tiger Beat and 31G.
They’ve kind of gone beyond just being a garage-rock label, don’t you think?
Q: That’s good for them, and they’re dear old friends but that’s not why—it’s because Goner rules.
Did you go up to Memphis for Goner Fest and do any promotional stuff for the album?
Q: No, we couldn’t do it. We were going to bring the snake in a limo with Jeanie and sign posters but we didn’t have time.
P: We should have rubber snakes for sale at the merch table or just sell snakes.
Q: Can you sell pets at rock shows? Snakes are deaf and they like cigarette smoke, too. Oh, wait—check out my tour outfit. [Quintron runs into the Spellcaster and grabs something.]
It’s a denim jumpsuit with a cobra back patch, two champagne glasses and a rose that says ‘Too thirsty for love.’ Where did you get that made?
Q: In Chalmette at Embroidery Unlimited. I’m very excited about this new jumpsuit.
Do you have a matching outfit that goes with the jumpsuit?
P: We’re going to have a denim theme. Shopping Bear and I are going to have matching outfits with Drum Buddies on them.

L.A. RECORD PRESENTS QUINTRON AND MISS PUSSYCAT WITH STATIC STATIC, GOLDEN TRIANGLES AND DJ SHORT SHORTS ON FRI., OCT. 10, AT THE ECHOPLEX, 1154 GLENDALE BLVD., ECHO PARK. 8:30 PM / $12-$14 / 18+. ATTHEECHO.COM. QUINTRON AND MISS PUSSYCAT’S TOO THIRSTY 4 LOVE IS OUT TUE., OCT. 14, ON GONER. VISIT QUINTRON AND MISS PUSSYCAT AT QUINTRONANDMISSPUSSYCAT.COM.

(from The Master’s Bedroom Is Worth Spending A Night In on Tomlab)

This interview by Jen Snyder.

So S.F. is a weird city, different than L.A. and New York as far as music and the arts go, and I think it’s partially because of our lack of a big MTV, model or movie scene going on here. How has that made your experience as serious musicians better or worse?
John Dwyer (Thee Oh Sees): The hype issue that you’re talking about as far as in places like in New York—and I don’t know about L.A.—but it’s like a lot of bands are disappointing, you know? I don’t know if it’s because they’re getting hyped too soon or what the fuck, but I feel like a lot of good bands here get overlooked. Maybe it’s giving them more time to grow, but a lot of bands are pretty good right out the gate here and I actually think we’re kinda lucky in that respect because there’s not all that bullshit clouding over. Of course, everybody is broke because of it.
Gabe Ramos (NRSZ): It’s almost more real because you’re not getting smoke blown up your ass all the time and you’re constantly struggling for it. I think it’s a little less pretentious. I mean, it’s not hard to find pretentious people anywhere…
J: Ok, yeah. They’re everywhere.
G: But it also kinda breeds a ‘non-presence’ of having to hustle super hard.
J: Yeah, I feel like people here don’t have to make something other than whatever they’re making. Whereas other places you have to gear your music it towards or something.
G: Yeah, I guess we’re really lucky because I feel like I’m constantly seeing bands that get really, really hyped that are just the same disco dance music. And I just get really bored when that’s the most prominent thing is see ALL the time. And I don’t see that a lot here.
J: Maybe it’s just more sparse. The point is that because it’s so small and no one makes any fucking money the scene somehow just stays a little more tight knit. Like we all go to each other’s shows a lot.
True. And here and even outside of the city both NRSZ and Thee Oh Sees have been really well received. Do you think you guys are giving a pretty accurate picture of what goes on here?
J: Not really though, because there’s so much shit going on. There’s a lot in common with bands and it’s definitely a little incestual. There’s bands coming from all over the spectrum. Like I’ll meet someone on Myspace who digs my stuff or whatever and they’ll be like, ‘Check out our band!’ And they’ll be so far away from what we’re doing like a hip-hop-surf-band, which sounds super terrible, and we’ll play together even though we’re not at all similar and it ends up being amazing.
G: I really enjoy going to eclectic shows too but for some reason—maybe it’s because I’m conditioned that way—I always see a common thread. Even if it’s like a garage band and some super loud shredder band. Even if it’s super mellow and really loud, I like the dichotomy.
What are some records I could find in this awesome house that I wouldn’t be able to find anywhere else?
J: I think a lot of it’s just local stuff that people will hit me up for after I play it for them, especially when we’re on the road. Like the Sic Alps for instance, where people in Europe are emailing me asking me where the fuck did I get it? I don’t know if S.F. has poor distribution or what, but it’s almost like we’re underground by accident. People change so much here, too. I mean bands will happen and disappear overnight.
G: Yeah I’ve found that to be a bummer before. You can talk to someone in a really rad band a week after a show and they’ll be like, ‘Oh no, we broke up.’
J: Or bands that have NO aspiration to tour. Like Fuck Wolf—they were great and just sort of fell apart and they were like, ‘eh.’ It just wasn’t on their list of stuff to do.
G: And also here a lot of people are just fuckin’ lazy!
J: It’s the subway to fame here. Not a rocket…
But you guys tour. Both of your bands toured together in March through the US and to Mexico and Canada. Gimme some highlights and lowlights. I saw on NRSZ myspace there was an album called ‘The SXSW Disaster Tour’ or something?
G: Yeah… well, it was definitely the first tour that we were seriously hit hard and actually lost money. Which we kindof expected, so that wasn’t surprising. But what we did not expect to happen was being arrested at the Canadian Border and getting put in jail for 5 days.
J: Nobody expected the Canadian Inquisition!
G: For real! I mean it was a weird witch hunt-y inquisition fully commandeered by this fucking prick, Sergeant Johnson, who was the worst human on the face of the planet. He put this weird cop hold on me when we were handcuffed where he was on the verge of breaking my thumbs.
J: Oh really? He hurt your thumbs?
G: Yeah, he was like leading me into a cell like I was gonna be a big problem. Like I’d run for the border or something…
J: That would be hilarious.
G: He was asking me about John and Thee Oh Sees and thought it was this band called Infestation…
J: Which I’m thinking about starting!
G: They knew he was from Rhode Island and were googling him.
J: But Canadian Google doesn’t work so good, though. Like we’re going to Rhode Island, me and you. Let’s go fly in my Oompa Loompa plane and go find that guy’s mom.
G: But it was ridiculous and followed by the most mundane four days in jail. I felt really bad for all the smokers in jail.
J: Which is a really weird thing to say. You’re such a nice guy. ‘I just feel bad for all those Hondurans who love cigarettes!’
G: Well, they couldn’t speak English and the only time they’d talk was when we’d get our disgusting breakfast and they’d be like, ‘Please, one cigarette.’ And we were just like God… it was horrible!
And Thee Oh Sees just did their first tour in Europe?
J: Yeah. It was fun. It was long. The guy who booked the shows got us good stuff. I think it was a financial disaster for Tomlab—it was really tough to tour us in the van without any guarantees for the shows. A lot of people go over there and drive themselves and borrow gear and I’m not really inclined to do that. And borrowing gear is hard for us. I mean, we’re really particular about our gear. We sing through amps, I have a space echo, and we have so many things where levels have to be where they need to be. And it was tiring. I’ve toured the U.S. so many times, but over there we didn’t know where to stay every night and so every night I’m figuring out something new. Which is great but after 26 shows in a row, sometimes two in a day! I mean, some bands tour for nine weeks which is great but—fuck that
G: And you meet tons of people and make a lot of friends which is rad.
J: Yeah. But there’s nothing like tour that makes you never want to own a cat. Like if I smell cat pee one more time, something’s gonna end up dead. You go to sleep when it’s dark and you wake up in cat litter that’s spilling over the cat-box like, ‘Uuughh!’ But that’s diggin’ in right there. That’s life.
You guys weirded anyone out lately? Freaked anyone out?
J: I think the last guy I weirded out was the guy at the Independent because he put his finger in my loogie and said ‘next time,’ like I shouldn’t spit on stage next time. I just laughed at him like we’d play there again. I’m not too fond of the bigger venues, and this guy was really pissed with a smile on. He was a big ass vagina.
That’s all you got?
J: Tell her about the time you weirded yourself out. It’s more like me getting Gabe to weird people out.
G: Yeah, I’m the man with a thousand faces. I totally weirded myself out giggling and ‘oooohing’ the other night.
J: I convinced him that people were selling beer in the bathroom and he went in there like questioning eveyone.
G: I thought the five guys in one bathroom stall were in there buying beers like, ‘Hey guys, can I get one of those?’ Actually I think the weirdest people are walking around outside our stoop here. The biggest retards walk by. It blows my mind that these people are out walking about in our neighborhood all concentrated. If you have a beer in your hand on the stoop everyone wants to hang out.
J: He’s getting good at telling them no. Like, no. Go away. Go away. No—don’t come up here, no. Like the more you don’t want them to come near you the closer they get like zombies.
Ok, Gabe. How come NRSZ thinks they can play with only two people? How come you don’t need anyone else?
G: We don’t think that! We’ve tried but it always deteriorates really rapidly.
J: You guys are such a unit though. You’d have to be a real animal to step up to bat at that plate.
G: It’s always someone who just can’t play or plays something really random.
J: Like, ‘I play nose-flute.’ They’re a lonely couple of guys.
G: People just don’t gel with us. We don’t play flowery-stoner type of stuff.
John, you and Thee Oh Sees are really independent. Except for your Europe tour, you book all your shows and you put our all your own music with Castle Face, the label you run with Brian Lee Hughes. How come you guys don’t ask for help?
J: Aside from when I was working with Narnack, who threw a lot of money at us, it’s not helpful. I’ve tried to work with bookers before but I feel like that the scene that I enjoy playing in has a real DIY vibe. And a lot of the clubs don’t offer that feeling. I prefer setting up shows with kids who actually enjoy the music and can throw on a rad local band, and that’s really exciting. I mean, we don’t make a lot of money because of that, but I’d rather have the memory of a good tour. I mean, money would be awesome, I gladly take money to do stuff, but I’ve learned that because of what kind of music we’re making, we have to be more independent. The other thing is that I’ve been doing it for such a long time that people help out a great deal from knowing you.
And both of your record live?
J: I’m incapable of doing it any other way.
G: Me too.
J: If I asked Mike [Shoun, thee Oh Sees drummer] to record without guitar, it would be hilarious. And I can’t sing overdub at all. The foundation of what we do is supposed to sort of match up with the live shows. I mean, you can make musical recordings interesting without having to record a million tracks. It’s like you go to a show and get what you see. Like, take tonight home.
G: All our stuff is pretty loose, so it’s hard to tack that down. We recorded at our friends’ studio where that band Los Tigres Del Norte recorded.
J: That Taco-Tuba band?
G: Ha, yeah. It’s all digital and we just didn’t get it. We were in different rooms wearing headphones but it was weird. There was no bleed at all.
J: The rooms just don’t sound like what music sounds like to the human ear. The bleed is so important.
G: Our live recordings sound way better. It might not sound the “best” but otherwise it’s just way stale.
As music diplomats for San Francisco, who should people be looking out for up here?
J: Fuck, MTV should be looking at Master Slash Slave. Those guys have a sound that could go really far. I’ve listened to that record nonstop, and it’s so pop, I could easily see a lot of people liking it.
G: I’m actually really surprised that it’s not more popular.
J: The Fresh and Onlies, the new TL stuff, Traditional Fools, the Mayyors, Ty Segall… And then there’s the all these awesome venues that people should come check out.
G: The Eagle is the best place to play in San Francisco for loud music.
J: The Hemlock is always the safety net but there are so many other places to play that can be even better. Even Edinburg Castle, ATA, 21 Grand in Oakland. There’s a lot of venues that out of town bands don’t even know about somehow.
G: Plus it’s always nice to play a one-act-only place, like playing at RVCA or an art show. There’s no pressure and you can kind of make it your space and your own thing.
J: Like playing a briss. That’s the heaviest shit you’ll ever see. You could just go mic the baby and loop and harmonize its crying. Waaahhhh!!
G: It’s a girl!
What’s on the horizon for NRSZ? What’s your next move?
J: Gonna get wasted.
G: John actually gave me the number for Chris Woodhouse, who records Thee Oh Sees, who’s fucking amazing. But yeah we’re making a record. We’re recording.
John, you guys just got back from tour with The Master’s Bedroom is Worth Spending a Night In—now what? Anything planned for the fall?
J: Yup we’re doing a US tour, going out to play Gonerfest in Memphis. And I’m really excited about that because that label’s great, they’ve put out and promoted so much good stuff.
Anything else you wanna tell L.A.?
J: Tell The Smell to give us all shows there, ever. And then L.A. bands should come up here more often. So many bands could easily come up here. Like that band Color Wheel who was amazing and broke up… come take a backwards step and hang out with us!

THEE OH SEES WITH SIC ALPS AND TY SEGALL ON TUE., SEPT. 16, AT THE SMELL, 247 S. MAIN ST., DOWNTOWN. 9 PM / $5 / ALL AGES. THESMELL.ORG. THEE OH SEES’ THE MASTER’S BEDROOM IS WORTH SPENDING A NIGHT IN IS OUT NOW ON TOMLAB. VISIT THEE OH SEES AT MYSPACE.COM/THEEOHSEES. VISIT NRSZ AT MYSPACE.COM/NURSESREHEARSES.