Feeling like a major creepazoid, I walked back to the little office shack, which was utterly closed, and after ten or so phone calls, I finally sorted out with the management of the Pioneertown Hotel that they had reserved the wrong weekend for me and given my room to someone else. Instead, I got the last room available—the “Gene Autry” room, a comforting name from the 40s to replace the 70s terrors I’d just witnessed. I had only been there for ten minutes, and already the weekend was an adventure fraught with perils that were indistinguishable from rewards. That’s the magic of the desert.

After some well-deserved night’s sleep, then a whole day spent partaking in all the joys of Joshua Tree (a soundbath at the Integratron, some 107-degree Fahrenheit rock climbing, and even an Old West shootout that had the 5-year-old in our crew declaring “I’m a cowboy!”), the adults among us finally ambled into Pappy & Harriet’s to catch some psychedelic-leaning tunes.  We had missed the 5 o’clock act, the Shadow Mountain Band, whose bluegrass and “hillbilly gospels” had promised to be the best thing of the evening.  Triggers and tarnations!

But second-set openers, War Drum, did not disappoint. A Deep Purple-y band with vintage keyboard sounds and a throbbing boogie bass, they kept the mystery going with mostly instrumental jams only occasionally punctuated by clear droplets of intoned vocals coming from the keyboardist. I loved the mallet approach to the drums, I loved the wah on the last song, and I loved the rampant shirtlessness!

Up next were Strangers Family Band. Full disclosure: when these guys moved to L.A. from Orlando, Florida a year or so ago, they asked me if I wanted to try out as keyboardist, and I turned them down. And I’m glad I did, since I’m a bit of a hack, and key-jockey John Rondano has added a far more creative sound to this band than I would have come up with. I got kind of jealous, but delighted in seeing that John also plugs his Farfisa-esque keyboard into a Morley wah-wah pedal, a combination which creates a uniquely wavey psychedelic keyboard sound and triggers a shimmering liquid sheet of heat bubbling up from the hearts and minds of gear nerds like myself.

Strangers Family Band have been around for a few years and have grown famous for shedding band members. For about a year now, guitarist Rick Seltzer has also been filling the role of singer—a smart move, since he’s a bad-assed frontman who can fling his fingers willy-nilly around the fret board while singing. And it doesn’t hurt that he’s kind of gorgeous, with curly-hair and a 1969 swagger. It’s like he’s Tiny Tim’s sexy little brother, who wouldn’t get married on the Tonight show but might bang Johnny Carson’s his wife.

With a dynamic guitarist lead now at the helm, Strangers Family Band have drifted a bit from the Doorsy sound of their origins to an even hippier approach. Live, I detected a bigger smattering of sounds and vibes from the Cream/Hendrix side of the 60s, with just a hint of Neil Young on their first song (though everything in the desert takes on a more “Cowgirl in the Sand” vibe than it might under the dim lights of the Echoplex).

Nonetheless, they grounded themselves firmly on the evil side of rock and roll Saturday night with their slavish love for Pink Floyd, not just in the obvious “Lucifer Sam” descending bass line of “Strange Transmissions” but also in the lyrics “is anybody out there” on their third song, and the chunky punkiness of “Interstellar Overdrive” tossed tightly into several others. But some modernity was unavoidable, and the end result was closer to the Dukes of Stratosphear than to the Amboy Dukes, which, if it was a conscious choice, was the right one.

Finally, we got to the headliners: Buffalo Killers! Talk about power trio: Buffalo Killers are three big guys with a big sound and some big ol’ notches in their career belts, having already toured with the Black Crowes, been produced by the Black Keys, and just a few months ago, recording a song with Kelley Deal of the Breeders that ended up being the first track on the Guided by Voices tribute album. Even Alice Cooper has taken notice, saying they have a “Joe Walsh/James Gang influence in their sound… I dig ‘em.”

Alice is kind of right about the influence, but methinks it’s less musical and more biological: you can’t exactly pick your voice, and singer/guitarist Andrew Gabbard and his brother Zach both have kind of a “Walsh-your-mouth-out-with-soap” sheen to their voices that feels more nature than nurture to me. Hearing them Saturday felt a bit like a combination of Dead Meadow and Endless Boogie, or to put it in more classic rock terms, it felt a lot like if Black Oak Arkansas lost a guitarist and had two Neil Youngs playing guitar and bass, right down to the cover of Young’s “Homegrown.”

It was good, with high-caliber harmonies from the Gabbard brothers and a good blend of psychedelic touches amongst the country/boogie rock (well, maybe not much country, but it always feels like Bob’s Country Bunker at Pappy’s). Yet you could feel just a touch of lethargy, maybe because there was less of a crowd than there should have been for a killer JT weekend. I have no complaints about the caliber of song we were hearing, but you felt like these boys were reining it in just a tad.

And I’m right about that, because at the very end of their set, the eyes of one brother twinkled at the other, and something went into overdrive—the band shot past passable and went full-tilt towards perfect on their last song, which had a white-hot guitar solo in the blues scale, audience-strangling vocals, and as much rock and soul as three white boys can muster on a hot desert night in the middle of a debt ceiling crisis. I wished the whole set could have been so transcendent, but on a lengthy tour, you have to know when to hold ‘em and know when to fold ‘em, and their set was no more lackluster than was the dreary, sweaty audience of locals and yokels who watched from the sidelines with their mason jars of beer.

After the show, things went as things normally do in the desert, with jagged conversations and well-marbled nighttime colors. The only major twist was the real moonshine provided to this thirsty journalist by the Buffalo brothers–and they didn’t even know I was a journalist. Thanks guys! By the time I woke up, hungover, and had to drive home, other folks were still awake, no doubt talking to the biker’s ghost in room 13. It was 107 degrees, and as always, about 180 degrees from the blasé city-slicker Echo Park experience, and I want to go back every weekend.

-Dan Collins

Give yourself a good reason to escape town this weekend by winning tickets to The New L.A. Folk Fest Desert Weekend. See He’s My Brother She’s My Sister, Amanda Jo Williams, Tommy Santee Klaws, and Turn On The Sunlight this Saturday night at Pappy & Harriet’s, and on Sunday morning wake up for Mia Doi Todd, The Driftwood Singers, and Emily Lacy at Joshua Tree Saloon. In between fill your time with a bunch of enlightening experiences the Fest has laid out.

To win tickets, email LAFolkFest with your most memorable escape from L.A. story. So if you’ve ever driven to Idyllwyid in the middle of the night, drank tea with a desert rat on route 10, or met aliens on your way to Vegas, this is your time to shine. Pretty sunsets make a good story, too.

Stream: I See Hawks In L.A. “I See Hawks In L.A.” (Original Demo)

(from Shoulda Been Gold out Tue., Jan. 26, on Collector’s Choice)

Before this interview, I See Hawks in L.A. and L.A. RECORD co-founded the Four Guys for Peace organization, which is dedicated to promoting friendship and brotherhood worldwide by combining strangers with beers. The first meeting was held in Union Station. I See Hawks are marking their tenth anniversary as a band—as the band which spent years playing elevated California country in the side room at the old Cole’s—with a not-hits-but-still-greatest compilation called Shoulda Been Gold out this month. This interview by Chris Ziegler.

Do think there are other dimensions where I See Hawks is colossally, globally successful?
Paul Lacques (guitar): I’ve had a very schizophrenic life. Creativity fills anything—it goes with anything.
Rob Waller (guitar/vocals): Especially if you have to pee. My wife has a theory—every bottle in the highway median is a piss bottle. On our first tour outside of California in ’03 or something, we were in dead-stop traffic on I-40. We were driving all the way across the country to North Carolina for our first show, then play all the way back. The first week was just this hard-ass drive. In a 1994 GMC Yukon.
P: In which we could fit everything. Four members and all gear—electric and acoustic. Probably our finest achievement.
R: We’ve done amazing packs never recorded by history. The world will never know we pack a vehicle better than any band in America. There should be a Grammy for that! For Best Independent Vehicle Pack! So traffic comes to a dead stop and we’re just sitting there with the car turned off and the windows down … and we see a piss bottle. Like a plastic quart bottle full of piss.
P: Allegedly.
R: So we had to test the theory. Paul ran out to get it, and I would open the cap and sniff it. And confirm or deny.
Wouldn’t you need a bigger sample size?
P: Than one? One was enough.
R: I just put my nose over it and took this big sniff—and it was the worst most acrid stinking acidic smell—‘Ah, no!’
P: There was genuine horror in his eyes. There’s no faking that.
R: And I’m not a weak-stomached guy. I have two and a half children. I can wipe somebody’s ass while they’re puking. I don’t care!
P: Then you’ll never be out of work, son!
Did you write ‘hit the bong / hit the bottle / Shaquille O’Neal / is Aristotle’ because of Shaq’s Twitter?
R: I signed up to follow Shaquille cuz I knew enough to know that would be a good idea.
P: I refuse to use Twitter—who has time?
R: The two of us are the bloggers of the band.
P: Rob’s mom thought we actually got arrested for peeing in the California Aqueduct [a classic iseehawks.com tall tale—ed.] and she goes, ‘Good! He needed to be stopped!’
R: ‘I’m glad they finally got him!’ That’s what my mom said after discovering I’d been ‘arrested’ and ‘was in jail.’
Is she much of a criminal herself?
R: ‘Yes’ is my answer to that question.
P: You certainly have a common understanding of each other.
R: We understand each other better than anyone else. The dark side of each other. You can’t communicate with my mom in a way that’s not dark. The minute you communicate with my mom, you’re in darkness.
What were your birthday parties like growing up?
R: She didn’t throw any birthday parties. Ah … my mom.
Who does she wishes I See Hawks sounded more like?
R: Jimmy Swaggart!
P: My mom loves everything I do. She’s very supportive. One time one of my bands was on tour and the singer goes, ‘I’ll give you $5 if you stick your nose between my toes.’ Why not? So I do it and someone takes a picture—I’ve been set up! And they’re over at my mom’s and they lay it on her and she says, ‘But Paul looks so HANDSOME!’
R: We have opposite mothers. Maybe that’s why our writing collaboration works.
P: She’s dark, but she lightened up. Except politically. My mom’s darkness is in politics. Any conspiracy comes along, she’s right there. Art Bell is too mainstream.
What’s the closest brush with death I See Hawks has had?
R: Paul almost drowned on tour!
P: I don’t know if I really would have drowned. We were on a little inlet and I’m not a very good swimmer and halfway across, I realized I’m not gonna make it. So I just start floating and it’s going really fast. ‘Am I gonna drown? No, I can just float.’ And I see our drummer and our eyes lock and I realize he thinks I’m dying! He was just frozen! But you can tread water all day, so I just treaded water. And floated for a really long way.
R: That’s the best way to go through life! One of the only good things about aging—the process of aging—is realizing, ‘I’m not gonna make it! I’m not gonna make it to the other side. So I might as well just go slack and let the current take me.’
P: ‘I can prolong the experience as long as I remain calm.’
R: People don’t want it to come, but it’s a very good moment.
P: Death? No it’s not!
R: No, the moment when you realize not to struggle.
P: But you’re also into death. Rob is like, ‘I bet it’s great!’
P: Paul is very afraid. I’m kind of oddly welcoming.
Epicurus said, ‘If I am, death is not. If death is, I am not. Why should I fear death?’ Does that help?
P: No, but I like that! I’ll grab on to any life raft!
You said once that I See Hawks songs are about three things—places, animals and defiance of death.
R: We might have expanded a little bit.
P: We sort of have kind of political and social commentary.
R: But woven into it.
P: Not like ‘War is wrong.’
Because war is right?
R: We had a song called ‘Kill the Rich.’
P: We never did it—it seemed like tossing a violent pebble into the river.
How come that’s not on the new compilation?
P: We never recorded it.
Is this I See Hawks’ private reserve?
P: We have a lot. We were thinking of putting them on the website. We have insane songs.
So what would the dark side version of Shoulda Been Gold have? ‘Shoulda Never Been Heard’?
R: There’s ‘Run Osama Run.’
P: We just wrote one on the train ride: ‘Hitler Needed Oil.’
R: ‘Morphine Is Good for You.’
P: It’s a lullaby.
Do you ever play these?
P: We played ‘Run Osama Run’ at Cole’s one time and it was great. Our bass player keeps us from doing a lot of these songs. He’s the moral rudder. Rob and I are children who pick wings off of flies and don’t know we’re causing harm. We’re pleased by our own clever turn of phrase, and he’s like, ‘Goddamit, you can’t play that!’
R: He just says he won’t play on the song, and he sings and plays so well that we want him on it, so …
What do you think of the new face-lifted Cole’s?
R: I hate it.
P: I haven’t gone in. I don’t wanna see it. It’s pretty heartbreaking. The guys wear garters on their sleeves. It’s ‘shave and a haircut, two bits!’ But there is something I’m happy about. The room we played in is gone. Sealed up. The vault has been sealed. We played there every week for three years. It was great—it really allowed for the creation of the band in certain ways. If you play every single week at the same place, it just develops a life of its own. And it was a laboratory for us.
R: And for our fans. It was easy to pack—a fairly small room—but it was packed every week. And the fans did not care what you did. If you fell on your face, they loved it!
R: You’d play every night and be like, ‘Wow, we’re fucking great!’
P: And then go do a real gig—
R: All of a sudden you’re in Athens, Georgia, and Beck is at the Georgiadome. And you’re like, ‘Oh, shit …’
Is the Cinema Bar your new Cole’s?
R: It’s a different spirit.
P: But you can do whatever you want. Cole’s was our little private … Ali was kind of doing it for fun.
R: Or family. But Cinema Bar has a place for good spirit.
What has departed L.A. forever and is never coming back?
R: My wife’s restaurant at Mr. T’s is gone and I miss it dearly.
So free food?
R: I certainly worked for my food there! That’s something I miss. Shaquille O’Neal. That era of the Lakers I enjoyed. 2002-2003.
Have you ever participated in a Lakers-related civil disturbance?
R: Not near any particular epicenter. But when Robert Horry hit that three-pointer against Sacramento, I was part of a spontaneous act of violence.
When you played the Mariposa County Fair, you said, ‘We believe in America. We love fairs. Corn Dogs, the Demolition Derby, funnel cakes and Ferris wheels.’ What do you still believe in about America?
R: Funnel cakes.
P: I think we were pretty specific—did we leave anything out?
R: Is that a trick question?
P: It’s almost ‘Do you support the troops?’
What’s the last nice thing you did for the troops?
R: I gave an acting serviceman a CD. He tried to pay for it and said he was in action in Afghanistan and I said, ‘Dude, take it.’
P: I stopped donating to Al Qaeda. I realized, ‘Wait a minute—this could be harming our troops!’
And now you’ll never be able to board a domestic flight again.
P: They won’t let us on anyway!
What are the three greatest American inventions?
P: The Shop-Vac is phenomenal.
R: The dildo.
I think that’s from ancient Greece.
P: ‘Dildo’ sounds Greek.
R: The electric vibrator.
Not the electric guitar?
R: Same concept.
P: I would say pedal steel. A phenomenal thing.
R: The cotton gin! The steam shovel!
P: The atom bomb. We’ve done a lot!
R: Haven’t we? It makes me proud! I’m proud we got the nuclear bomb first—aren’t you? I’m proud of the stealth bomber! I was a bartender at the 1996 Superbowl—Packers against Denver—and it was like the first time the stealth bomber was released to the public and they flew it over the Superbowl.
And no one could tell it was even there?
R: No one had ever seen it! Everybody was just silent like, ‘Oh my God …’ Cuz it looks like a flying wing of death coming to kill you. So everyone was like, ‘Ooh, it’s scary!’ 80,000 people scared! This huge wing goes WOOOOOOSH right past and then everybody is like, ‘… YEAHHHHHHHH!’ So fucking psyched! And I was too! ‘Yeah! This is ours! This is our weapon!’
P: It’s so primal. People make fun of the Soviets for parading the tanks but …
They should have dropped some kegs on the field.
R: The ultimate!
Is that what you thought of when you played the county fair?
R: We played at the Irvine Spectrum in the early days of the band. We got booked by the mall at the mall. Our job was to stand and set up all our shit—we’re telling all our humiliating stories! ‘We’ve had some good gigs—like the time we played the Spectrum!’ We go through the back entrance and they’re really hardcore about not drinking, so we went to McDonald’s and got a coke and filled it with bourbon. And they set us across from the Opera Café, and we were playing acoustic music and they got these speakers on the fake patio so we had to sing into the opera music. People would walk by like going to the movies—
P: —with no reaction. ‘Is that a fire hydrant?’
R: And then girls would come up and start talking to us—while we’re playing—and they wanna get on the mic and start saying ‘happy birthday’ to their friends. Which we let them.
P: Good times. Like ‘Flight of the Conchords.’ Playing to nobody for no reaction.
There’s purity there.
P: There is. For yourself.
R: It takes courage to face that cultural wave that’s gonna wipe you out.
You said before that country music is pragmatic above all else, and that makes people like Toby Keith and Gretchen Wilson truer in a way to country than the kind of throwback music I See Hawks makes.
R: We’re freaks and relics and we’re something else as well. But it’s weird how we tend to do better in remote areas. We have sort of a remote area mindset. I think it’s borderline survivalist. There are people in the world who still wanna rock. But it is weird. When you do this thing in this era—we’re releasing this record of basically music we’ve written and played for the last ten years. A decade of music as we’re coming to the close of a decade, and we started right at the beginning. An interesting way to mark time. It’s almost like geographical regions don’t matter. People can dial in to whatever taste is wherever. It’s spread way out. But you go there and have these kind of more rewarding experiences with people because they genuinely like what you’re doing and you genuinely appreciate them and they know it. Genuinely! You stay at their house and they make you dinner. It’s a strange experience and different than being a rock star. We sort of had that idea before, but when you are sort of just existing and playing music and connecting with people, it’s a totally different experience.
Does this connect to anything you’ve said about the death of regionalism?
P: Everyone has access to everything at the same time.
R: People hunt authentic experiences like people hunt exotic game. Hemingway shot elephants and now people get an iPhone app to find an authentic Mexican restaurtant. ‘The Authentic Guide To American Cities!’
P: That’s good! Authenti-city.
R: The second big website we’ve designed today! It’s great! Go to a bowling alley, check into a flophouse—
P: —I lost a finger! That real enough for you!?
So after all this time, people still kind of don’t want to be lied to?
R: They wanna be lied to and they don’t wanna be lied to. They wanna be lied to by the president but they don’t wanna be lied to by a country rock band. They welcome lies by the president. Maybe it’s easier to tell? When someone sings a song that’s bullshit, you walk the fuck out. You can’t sit there and be obliterated by it unless you’re heavily medicated. Unless people are!
So the solution is to let country-rock bands run the country?
R: There is no solution! But we will all die happy!

I SEE HAWKS IN L.A. WITH GINA VILLALOBOS AND HAYMAKER ON FRI., JAN. 22, AT THE PUKA BAR, 710 W. WILLOW ST., LONG BEACH. 9 PM / $7 / 21+. MYSPACE.COM/PUKABAR. AND ON SAT., JAN. 23, FOR THE HIGH DESERT CD RELEASE PARTY OF SHOULDA BEEN GOLD AT PAPPY AND HARRIET’S, 53688 PIONEERTOWN RD., PIONEERTOWN. 7:15 PM / FREE / 21+. PAPPYANDHARRIETS.COM. AND WITH MATT THE ELECTRICIAN ON SUN., JAN. 24, FOR THE L.A. CD RELEASE PARTY OF SHOULDA BEEN GOLD AT McCABE’S, 3101 PICO BLVD., SANTA MONICA. 7 / $15 / ALL AGES. MCCABES.COM. I SEE HAWKS IN L.A.’S SHOULDA BEEN GOLD RELEASES TUE., JAN. 26, ON COLLECTOR’S CHOICE. VISIT I SEE HAWKS IN L.A. AT ISEEHAWKS.COM.

Manimal Records owner Paul Beahan hasn’t released a record yet that has approached 10,000 copies sold, but his label has put out some of the most original and captivating music from Los Angeles since 2006. He is hosting the 2nd annual Manimal Festival today and tomorrow in Joshua Tree with 20 bands including Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, Hecuba, Warpaint, Alexandra Hope and many more. Beahan sat down with L.A. RECORD at a French Cafe to discuss Manimal Festival, why women are currently releasing the music he finds most exciting and which KROQ artist he would sign in under a minute. Interview by Scott Schultz.

Can you define the Manimal sound for the readers?
Paul Beahan: The theme right now as far as Manimal goes is non-typical indie rock.
What do you consider ‘typical indie rock’?
Paul Beahan: I guess what I’m saying is I really try to avoid bands for the most part. I avoid the guitar-bass-drums-singer. Although there are some exceptions—like Warpaint are a total democratic band. But they’re not traditional. They all sing. I consider them like three solo artists working together in the same room. That’s kind of how it works. It’s almost like the Beatles in a weird way. Emily will sing on certain songs, Jenny will sing a song or two. Theresa sings the famous song called ‘Beetles,’ where she kind of gets going off. Overall, I’d say the Manimal sound is avoiding the sound of a band—avoiding group sounds. I’ve really been anti-band in a lot of ways, and I feel like that with the label. For example, Bat For Lashes—Natasha IS Bat For Lashes. It’s a dictatorship when it comes to what she does. It’s her, and she calls it a certain thing. Jut like Rio en Medio with Danielle. Probably the biggest bands I can handle are duos like Rainbow Arabia and Hecuba. It could change. Next year, I could totally be in love with bands. In fact, I’m going to be working with Pizza! doing an all-digital full length. It’s all their early recordings when they were called the New Motherfuckers, and then they changed their name to Pizza! We’re going to do that digital-only, and then next year we hope to have a full length on CD and LP.
Manimal is very female-centric.Is that a result of a conscious effort or is it happenstance?
Paul Beahan: I think the label is what I’m into at the moment, and I’d say over the last four or five years, females are doing very interesting things in music right now. I feel like they’ve been held back for so long, and I feel there’s been a breakthrough. They’re doing things with music that are indescribable and uncategorizable. I feel like it’s becoming a stream-of-consciousness pop songwriting, whereas for so many years it was the female rock band, the female piano-ballad singer, the female broken-hearted country singer or the R&B diva—and with this sound and approach of finding these wonderful female artists, it seems they’re really doing exactly what they want. Whether it has to do with them being female or not, I just love the energy.
What was your musical background before forming the label?
Paul Beahan: I started out playing grindcore in the hardcore scene down in San Diego during the ‘90s. I played in quite a few bands, and one band with some guys from the Locust. It was part of that West Coast grindcore/hardcore/post-punk scene. That was where I came from.
Your band roster is really non-radio friendly in today’s Clearchannel Terrestrial environment—do you reach out to satellite radio and colleges to get your bands heard?
Paul Beahan: There’s a couple of really great satellite radio shows who have been really supportive on Sirius and XM. We got some good satellite action, and of course college radio has been amazing for us. Growing up and playing in indie bands in San Diego, you knew were never going to have any kind of financial succes, I’ve always been fond of the term ‘indie gold.’ It’s an inside joke that I have. The numbers always get lower and lower. At one time ten thousand records was called indie gold, but now I’m thinking, ‘Hmm, it may be difficult selling ten thousand records, so I’ll keep indie gold to five thousand.’ A few of our artists have almost made it to that. It’s kind of cool. Radio doesn’t really reflect in sales whatsoever.
San Diego music in the ‘90s had a real DIY aesthetic with a bunch of tiny labels. How did that approach affect you a decade later when you finally started your own label?
Paul Beahan: From a direct point of view, I was living with Justin Pearson of the Locust and Swing Kids and a million bands. This was well over thirteen years ago. I was still a bit of a fuck up, and I was living in the party house downstairs, and he was living upstairs. This was a big mansion house in Golden Hills where we’d hold shows, and we all rented out rooms there. It was this massive nine-bedroom mansion. Upstairs were guys from Locust and Moving Units and all of the tough bands. Downstairs was called the Emo House. I lived with Jimmy LaValle who is now Album Leaf. We all lived in this same compound together. I remember nursing hangovers on the porch at the crack of dawn and seeing Justin Pearson taking a whole stack of records to the post office and thinking, ‘He’s got his shit together.’ I think that’s laid dormant in my mind for so long. I think after I moved to L.A. and kind of settled in and had a career going in the fashion world, I was able to take that inspiration that had always sat there from Justin and I decided to start a label. I think it’s very admirable what he did running his own label because I was such a fuck up and he was doing this at such a young age. And he’s still doing it. It doesn’t sound like anything I would put out on Manimal, but the aesthetic is still there and we’re still friends to this day and we still exchange ideas.
Why do you think that the bands in Brooklyn get so much exposure while there is a surplus of equally if not more talented bands in Los Angeles who just seem to maintain relative anonymity? Miranda Lee Richards said in a recent interview with L.A. RECORD that there were not enough local labels and local managers on the business end to supply all of the talent in Los Angeles. What’s your take on this—as the owner of one of the few labels in town?
Paul Beahan: I definitely feel that in Brooklyn and New York, there is definitely more financial and emotional support there. There is more of a European mentality toward the arts in New York compared to Los Angeles. Here it’s really a republican way of thinking, even though people here are very liberal minded. Here, they have an attitude of, ‘You’re on your own, kid!’ kind of thing. Because there are so many talented people in Los Angeles—I would say on the talent meter a hundred times more talented people than there are in New York City. It’s Los Angeles, and people come here from all over the world and all over the country to make a living off of their talent. In that sense I feel there are also a lot of people who are in the entertainment business for the wrong reasons, especially the music business. It has to be approached as a labor of love, and for me it is a complete labor of love. I’m fortunate enough to have my fashion career to support the record label, because I don’t make any money out of the record label at all. If anything, I have to go out of pocket on most of the stuff. But I don’t see it as always being that way, and I think it’s going to change. I think with DIY culture with instead of having to spend ten or twenty thousand dollars to record an indie record, we do it for free—bands do it themselves and take care of it, and we’re able to turn a profit faster because the overhead is lower. I think that in Los Angeles, we definitely need more labels. I would love it if there were four or five other labels doing what I am doing, but unfortunately, I don’t think that there is. At least I’m not aware of it—or if there are, at least there aren’t labels that are aesthetically great.
What is your job in the fashion industry?
Paul Beahan: I work as a fashion stylist. I’ve been working as a wardrobe and fashion stylist for the last ten years. That’s my background. I’ve had a nice, successful career. Around three years ago, I decided to borrow money from my styling company to start the record label. That’s how I was able to finance it all.
This is the second Manimal Festival. Why do you keep holding them in Joshua Tree? Is it a retreat from L.A. for the bands and their fans?
Paul Beahan: It’s a chance to see their favorite bands in a really uncontrolled environment, instead of going to a venue where you know you can piss in a clean bathroom and know that there’s security guards to break up any fights. I fell like this is a pure human co-existance. We’re in the middle of the desert. We do have Pappy and Harriet’s. It’s the closest sign of civilization. I feel like we can only allow a certain number of people there. It’s a really small venue. But we get them there, and how many other opportunities will they get to see Chairlift and Warpaint and Edward Sharpe in this tiny space in the middle of nowhere in this beautiful scenic background? It’s one of those things. I’m able to do it there, and the people who own Pappy and Harriet’s are super cool. They’re really supportive and they don’t charge me any money to do it which is great. It’s a chance to keep it really intimate. I don’t want more than 600 people there. I want to keep it at like 500 people. Even a couple years from now, I don’t want it to be ten thousand people—I will want to keep it at around 500. Depending on how the October show goes, we’re already talking about doing another one in May or June. We did the first one in June, but I couldn’t do it in June this year, because I was busy with a lot of releases. But now since the releases are slowing down, I’ve had a lot of energy to put into the festival. It’s like an end-of-the-year company party. It’s just fun. Last year was literally just me. I had no help at all. L.A. RECORD helped me with ads and selling tickets, but that was it. I was out of pocket—I was stage managing and running all over the place. Now I have KCRW as well as L.A. RECORD. We also have a stage manager this year. Isabelle of Hecuba’s sister Jasmine is going to be the stage manager this year—cracking the whip and making sure bands don’t run long. It will go more professionally and I’ll be able to enjoy it more and talk to people instead of running around in all directions, so I’m really looking forward to it.
I always joke that Manimal bands travel in packs—wherever I see one of your bands, I usually find three or four.
Paul Beahan: They’re all friends. We all share things and work with each other. It’s the idea of a co-op. That’s how it’s been working. Jon and Isabelle of Hecuba have been priceless with helping me with the label. They’ve made the label happen. Between them and Rainbow Arabia, they’ve really made the label happen in a big way. They’ve given so much of their time to help me with the label and vice versa—we help each other out. Coincidentally we all happen to be friendly if not good friends with each other so they do travel and tour in packs—kind of like a big gang in a weird way, which is cool with me. There’s not enough drama, actually. We need a little more. We need to be some incestuous stuff going on. Fortunately there hasn’t been any, as much as I try to initiate setting up people. They’re all like, ‘He’s too much like my brother. She’s too much like my sister.’ No steamy gossip or drama yet. I wish there would be, though!
How many submissions do you get in an average week, and do you look for something specific?
Paul Beahan: I have an open submission policy. I give out my P.O. Box and e-mail address. I’d say I get ten to twenty submissions a week. I look at the whole package—the whole aesthetic. Everything from the name of the artist or the band to whatever the artwork they give me. That always comes first because I don’t care what anyone says—people judge books by their covers.
Your bands even have a fashion aesthetic to them.
Paul Beahan: Bands like Hecuba or Rainbow Arabia, they all have really great aesthetics. And of course, I do get those cds in the mail where I’m like, ‘Really? OK?’
Some bands will just mail stuff to everybody.
Paul Beahan: There’s some CDs where I’m thinking, ‘Does this band even listen to what I put out?’ I even get country rock people sending their records. ‘Hey, put out my band.’ Some bad stuff.
How many shows do you go to in a typical month?
Paul Beahan: Being that I’m a father, I get to go out maybe two or three times a month, depending on what’s going on. It’s been a little bit more lately because there’s a lot that’s been going on, so I’ve been getting out once a week.
What is your child’s favorite CD?
Paul Beahan: Scott Walker. She loves Scott Walker. His early stuff. Not his new stuff—I think that would be a little to scary for her.
VOICEsVOICEs always puts me to sleep when I play it at my apartment.
Paul Beahan: Oooh, I haven’t tried that actually. I’m going to have to. She REALLY likes Hecuba. She wants to hear ‘Tom and Jerry.’ She points and says ‘Meow!’ She wants to hear Tom and Jerry over and over again, but she’s a wild child.
I met L.A. RECORD’s publisher for the first time at a Hecuba show. I remember walking in during their set and thinking, ‘What the hell is this?’ Then I saw them a couple more times and heard their CD and I really like them a lot now.
Paul Beahan: Everybody. The first time they see them everybody says, ‘What the hell is this?’ It’s weird. Hecuba is very alienating to the untrained ear. First impression is always, ‘Whoa, is this band real?’ They defintiely stand out in people’s memory. I’ve never experienced so many people that were ‘What the fuck?’ and then three months later, they’re ‘Hecuba!’ They become their favorite band. It’s really cool. And the band is aware of that, too. They’re very polarizing. A good portion of the bands that I’m really into now—the first time I heard them I was really confused, and then as time moved they became my favorites.
Have you ever put backmasking on any of your vinyl?
Paul Beahan: The lock groove? Yeah—we have two albums that do that. On the new Polyamorous Affair vinyl at the end of the Bolshevik Disco vinyl. VOICEsVOICEs will, too. They have a 30-second song between side A and side B. It’s going to be a lock groove. It’s pretty cool. We did that with Polyamorous Affair. There was a line from their first album—‘Melt you down like Cherynobl, Superpower going global.’ Eddie thought it was insane. I said, ‘Give me that line, and we’ll have it backwards.’ It’s a lock groove so you have to have a DJ turntable to hear it. It sounds like it’s German because it’s all backwards, but if you play it backwards you can hear the actual message. We just did it to screw with people a little bit. It’s true about the White Album. If you really play Revolution 9 backwards over the part where George Martin is saying, ‘Number 9,’ it does sound like he’s saying, ‘Turn me on, dead man.’ It sounds just like it.
Do you ever click around Myspace to listen to random bands from isolated countries in Europe and Asia?
Paul Beahan: All the time. That’s how I found Aquaserge, the French group. It’s kind of how I found Corridor too. He had writen me a few times, and I kind of dismissed him as a folkie, and then one day I listened to his Myspace and got into him. I still find lots of bands on Myspace, even though Myspace has become more and more of a graveyard over the last year. It seems that they’re all European bands.
How’s the David Bowie tribute CD coming along?
Paul Beahan: It’s getting there. It’s definitely delayed. It’s probably not coming out until Spring 2010 now. We want it to be perfect. Most of the bands have submitted their songs. I can’t tell you all of the bands who are going to be on it yet. Obviously, the Manimal artists will be on there. We also have much larger bands on it like MGMT and Nine Inch Nails. We don’t know what song Nine Inch Nails is doing yet, but they are confirmed. I’m trying to convince MGMT to cover ‘Andy Warhol.’ Devendra Banhart and Megapuss did a Spanish version of ‘Sound and Vision.’ Vivian Girls do ‘John I’m Only Dancing.’ It’s a super lo-fi version, and it’s so good. I think we’re going to start leaking songs out around December or January. David Bowie’s web designer-manager guy who oversees all his personal management is in contact with me every week. We talk about it. Bowie is completely aware of this, and totally supportive and cool with it.
Do you see Manimal doing soundtrack work at some point?
Paul Beahan: I hope so. I’m not really close with any music supervisors from any motion picture companies. We started submitting a lot of our stuff to licensing companies who work with music supervisors. I know Natasha from Bat For Lashes is looking to do more soundtrack work, and I’m sure Hecuba will definitely—it’s just a matter of time. VOICEsVOICEs could. Hopefully we’ll get some good action going on, but as for right now, no.
Any chance of Manimal releasing comedy records?
Paul Beahan: This is a funny story about how the label got started. I’ve never told anyone before. As a stylist, I got hired to work with Bill Maher on his television show Real Time With Bill Maher for HBO. He turned out to be a difficult dude to work with. For some reason, he wouldn’t let us do a fitting for him, so the job only lasted three weeks and I got fired. But the money I made from that is how I paid for my first release. I got like $5,000 with my severance, and I used that to put out the Chapin Sisters-Winter Flowers picture disc. The records were finished, and I had to pay for it. I was stressing out for money. I thought, ‘I’ll do this job,’ but I knew I was going to get fired because one episode the suit was too big and one episode the suit was too tight. He kept complaining about shit and eventually I got fired and I got my severance check and I thought, ‘Well, this is going to start my record company.’ Technically HBO paid for Manimal Records.
Do you look as Bat For Lashes as the first graduate of Manimal? And how does it feel to see one of your first bands succeed on such a wide scale?
Paul Beahan: EMI picked her up about two weeks after we put out the record in 2007. We knew it was going to be big, but she’s definitely become the figurehead of the label even though now she’s not with the label. We’re still aesthetically working together. We have the catalogue, and she has a label She Bear, which we are in talks about maybe Manimal distributing her label. It would be her label manufactured and overseen by me. That will be something for 2010 for sure. I actually first discovered Bat For Lashes while I was in my bathroom reading a copy of the Arthur Lee Memorial edition of Mojo. I saw a picture of her and I was blown away. Manimal Vinyl—it all started on the toilet. I looked them up and contacted their manager Dick O’Dell. When I wrote him they had just been talking about how she would be able to find an American label to put her record out. At the same exact time that I was contacting her that e-mail came through. She had done a few solo dates opening for Devendra, but she didn’t really have any awareness over here yet. I still have a stack of Mojos next to my toilet.
We’ve discussed how being a small label, you understand that for bands to become widely circulated they have to ultimately make the jump to a larger label. Do you approach bands with a two or three year window in mind?
Paul Beahan: I’m completely open to them moving to a bigger label. There’s no weirdness when they do go to a bigger label. It just kind of happens. I feel like first impression, I never think of that obviously. With Warpaint it’s different—we went into that knowing they were going to be going with a bigger label. Now I can openly say that both Hecuba and Rainbow Arabia have been getting looked at by bigger labels. There’s even been offers to distribute Manimal through a large major label. I just wait for it to happen. I could easily imagine VOICEsVOICEs getting signed to Warp. As of right now, the biggest thing we’re concentrating on is getting the Manimal release out—getting that done properly and whatever happens happens. If they go with a larger label, that’s great. If they stay with me and put out another record, hopefully they’ll be able to make a decent royalty with Manimal.
Manimal had eight releases this year. How many do you have scheduled for 2010?
Paul Beahan: Definitely a bit less than I did in 2009. We overdid it a bit this year. In 2010, we’re hoping five or six. I’ve been a little overwhelmed this year.
Is Hancock Park your retreat from Echo Park and Silverlake?
Paul Beahan: When I first moved to L.A., I lived in Los Feliz. Then I moved out to this area in 2002, and I didn’t plan on staying this long, but I stayed out here and it has been a bit of a retreat. I can walk around here early in the morning in my pajamas and not be embarrassed by running into somebody I know. Mentally, I feel like I should live on the east side, but I like it here. I feel more like an outsider.
What is it like working with a European distributor?
Paul Beahan: With Cargo, they were already buying my items through my old American distributor. I told them I was parting with my American distributor and wanted to go exclusive with a U.K. deal because I really wanted to expand overseas. First thing they told me was I really needed to get someone to run the label over in U.K. and it just so happened that the guy who was managing Hecuba was looking to do that for me, and we just opened up our office in London about a month ago in the East End. Matthew Hammond—he’s my label manager over there. He’s wonderful. He’s also a booking agent over there—he books tours over in Europe and the U.K. He’s defintinely become the open artery for Manimal’s success in the U.K. and Europe. He’s working directly with Cargo. He’s my right-hand man.
Are there any bands that have been embraced by the mainstream that you like?
Paul Beahan: MGMT. If they weren’t signed when I saw them the first time, I would have definitely signed them within 20 seconds. I just became friends with their manager, and he told me that they have reached over a million sales now. It’s incredible to think that a duo of musicians like MGMT can have that kind of chart success. To me, they’re in the same ballpark as Hecuba. MGMT could aesthetically be a Manimal band. There’s not many Billboard-charting bands that I can say that about. It’s something to look up to. I’m very excited for their success. If they can do it, I know a band like Rainbow Arabia could definitely be a Top Ten act. Or M.I.A. She has a top-ten Album in the U.S., which is absurd and inspiring. And you still have the country artists, and the hip-hop artists in the Top Ten, but then you get bands like these sneaking in there, and it’s really inspiring. It gives me hope that if they could do it, one of the Manimal bands will be able to do it.
Have you ever been in a sensory-deprivation tank?
Paul Beahan: I actually had a friend help me do that once in a saltwater pool. Floating for hours. It was like being born all over again. It was somewhere out in the desert and that was right about the time that I started the label.
You should bring all the bands out and submerge them one at a time in a tank before sending them on stage.
Paul Beahan: That’s a really good idea. We could film it. It would be the sensory deprivation sessions. We could float them for hours and then make them go right into a recording session and let them improvise. I’m definitely down for experimentation like that—absolutely.
Is there any final message you’d like to get out to the L.A. RECORD readers?
Paul Beahan: I’d like to give a word out to all of the musicians and artists who are reading this to keep doing what they’re doing and keep sending me your music. Whether they hear back from me or other labels or not, don’t give up. It’s becoming a less profitable venture, but the world without interesting music will be a boring place.

MANIMAL FESTIVAL WITH ALEXANDRA HOPE, HECUBA, RAINBOW ARABIA, AMANDA JO WILLIAMS, VOICESVOICES, CORRIDOR AND MANY MORE ON SAT., OCT. 3, AND SUN., OCT. 4, AT PAPPY AND HARRIET’S, 53688 PIONEERTOWN RD., PIONEERTOWN. 6 PM / $30 FOR ONE DAY / $50 FOR WEEKEND / ALL AGES. MANIMALVINYL.COM.

Clean Air Clear Stars – 3rd Annual Global Cooling Benefit Music Festival – 3 Days 3 Stages 1 Festival. September 18th 19th and 20th, 2009. This year CACS is FREE TO ENTER! Once again this year we will be offering camping at the event. Camping vouchers will be available at the entry points of the festival and will be granted first come first served for $15 per night per one tent.

Download: Rosie Flores “In The Middle Of A Heartache” (Wanda Jackson)

(from Hard-Headed Woman: A Celebration of Wanda Jackson available from Bloodshot)

We caught Rosie Flores playing an air show. With planes whizzing overhead, the guitarista has her two feet on the ground, strumming the strings in the inimitably passionate style that got a day dedicated to her in Austin. Everyday can’t be ‘Rosie Flores Day,’ but if you have a few thousand dollars to spare, she can put out Janis Martin’s last album! This interview by Daiana Feuer.

Are there planes flying right now?
It’s very interesting because when we’re performing we get to see these incredible air shows. Dive bombers. Formation flying. Aircraft that you wouldn’t normally see—from vintage to the latest modern thing. Right in front of us while we’re singing. It’s really not about the music here—we’re kind of second fiddle to the airplanes. That’s ok—we’re making good money and connecting with some new fans.
It beats jamming in a garage.
It is interesting scenery. And we’re getting to perform together a lot. Are you familiar with Patricia Vonne? We’re learning each other’s songs and singing in harmony together. We’ve got a new song on my album Girl Of The Century called ‘This Cat’s In The Doghouse.’ It seems to be the biggest hit out here at the airport in Osh Kosh. All the guys love it. I guess they can relate. I’ll be playing with the Honky Tonk Angels in Los Angeles, though. With Jenne Brown who also came out of L.A. at the same time I did. And another gal named Patty Booker. The three of us formed this band and we’ve got some really cool pickers playing with us. The crack L.A. band backing us. We’re playing guitars and mandolins and pianos and basses ourselves, with a three-part harmony. It’s a pretty magical trio, and I only play with them in California. We play one long set. In some places it will be like four long sets. At Pappy and Harriet’s, we’ll play four hours straight!
So you’re turning 59?
I am! It’s my last year I get to be in the ‘50s. Starting next year I can’ t play any more rockabilly music.
Will you start a go-go band?
Actually, I’ve kind of started doing that. I’ve been recording some really rocking stuff and gearing away from pure rockabilly. My new record on Bloodshot’s got some of that. I covered a Yardbirds song, and ‘This Cat’s In The Doghouse’ I told you about… We put a little rockabilly-country in there to keep it going but I want to stretch out and rock ‘n’ roll a little bit.
While your guitar solos always show your ability, you’re not super-indulgent. Are you going to rock out now?
I am tending to indulge myself a little more. Particularly lately. I don’t know if I’ve just become more confident. But I tend to keep hiring musicians that don’t play guitar so I can do all the guitar work now. It’s coming. The live show will show more of it.
You’ve been playing forever yet you’re not going cold.
I think I have the spirit of a teenager and that keeps me young. People can’t believe my age. People are all high-fiving me because for somebody who hasn’t had a face lift, I’m doing pretty good. I feel so young. I like growing older gracefully. As long as I can keep myself eating and drinking the right amount of stuff, I’m keeping my energy like a teenager. And the biggest thing I loved then was playing guitar and writing songs. That’s where it all started. I really feel like the same. In my head and my heart, I don’t feel any different than I did when I was 16, 17 and 18 years old. I’ve thought about it—that must be the reason. It’s also impossible for me to feel jaded. I don’t have that jaded gene in me. There’s been a couple of times when this career of mine has been difficult and I’ve struggled big-time financially. Even this year! Even if I feel like creating and on stage I feel like a teenager, when I’m at home trying to pay the bills, that’s when I feel like an adult. I try to reason with it—’Maybe it’s time for another kind of job.’ Before my father died he said, ‘If you don’t start making money from this, do something else.’ He was worried about me and he knew he wasn’t going to be there to hold me up. Sometimes his words ring in my head and I say, ‘Well, let’s see—I can sell my car?’ I try to figure out a way to do it and then I say, ‘Oh, maybe I should quit.’ And then all of a sudden something happens—a record comes out or I get this cool tour or all of a sudden I’m making money to pay my bills and everything’s normal again. Those are rough times and I still have them and I expect to still have them. It would be miraculous and wonderful if one of my new songs made a hit and there would be enough money coming in so I wouldn’t have to worry about paying food and doctor bills. Or perhaps I’ll meet a fantastic man who happens to be my soulmate—who happens to not be struggling for once! Every boyfriend I’ve ever had has been a struggling artist of some kind! I just need to meet some successful ones.
If you’re hanging at a rock show, you’re probably going to meet a beautiful soulful broke artist.
Yeah, hanging out with the bad boys. You know, I have always been attracted to younger men, but I lately I have found myself attracted to guys my age or age-appropriate at least. They all have a similar thing in common. They’re free-wheeling, high spirited and young at heart through some muse they have—whether it be hiking or piano or they fly airplanes. I just like being with passionate men that don’t have that jaded gene. Particularly ones that joke around and are smart and witty. Those keep me on my toes. They seem like younger men so I become attracted to them. I’ve been single my whole life, as far as I’ve never been married. Maybe that keeps me coming up with new songs and new guitar licks, and finding new ways to reinvent myself.
You must have a very solid sense of self.
It could be. I try to look at the osmosis of the whole thing. I think of myself as a survivor. I’ve watched a lot of my friends pass away through disease, drugs, accidents—but how come I’ve remained healthy? What have I done different? The one thing that has really kept me doing good—feeling healthy psychologically and physically—has really been the dear friends I’ve made. I feel so lucky that I’ve had those kind of guys around me. They’re the guys you call up and try to complain about something and they’re like, ‘No, no, you’re doing everything right.’ My bass player bought me groceries when I didn’t have enough to eat. ‘No, no, you’re not paying me back—you’ll get me back.’ Had I had a husband, maybe he would have been the one paying my bills and holding me up. But it’s more interesting—I don’t have to feel guilty that I haven’t been able to pull my weight with one person. I’ve had a lot of different people who I consider close friends who have been there for me emotionally and work-wise and all that. I’ve had to deal with some very bad deals with people in the music business. That’s been a tough road for me. The ones that were most challenging—those are the ones that made me fight harder. You can’t mess with me. I’ll show you! I really wasn’t always confident but I am now. I guess I started recording with the Screaming Sirens when I was 32. I started playing in bars when I was 21. That’s been a long road. I wasn’t always confident. I got my heart broken many times. But now I’m happy and confident as a single woman. As long as I can make enough money, there’s no reason not to play.
What has experience taught you?
My experience has taught me that for today I need not make the same mistakes. It showed me how to interact with people on a business level, on a friendship level and on a love level. I know what makes me happy. I didn’t know what it was that was going to make me happy before. Had I chosen the route to have children, I’m sure that would have made me happy. I would have needed to share my music with the children and worked them into the deal and put them on the record. I sort of feel like if I hadn’t lived this particular experience then I wouldn’t just be who I am today and that’s really all I know. I can look at other people’s lives and see what I could have been and how I could have turned out. But probably because I have a good spirit and I love people and laughing and entertainment, I would have probably been the host of the PTA.
Having worked with both Wanda Jackson and Janis Martin, can you just say out loud how cool that was?
Oh yeah! I’ve always loved rockabilly so much, but even back in the Warner Bros. days, they wouldn’t let me cut any of it. I was forced to just do country music. When I was on High Top, I finally had the chance to do what I wanted. I thought, ‘What a great thing to bring Wanda Jackson and Janis Martin out.’ They hadn’t recorded in 30 years. I called them up and they both said yes. Both of them to me were a dream come true. I could never get them together and sadly by the time Wanda called Janis and got her number, Janis had passed away. They never even got the chance to talk. Janis would always say, ‘I’d love to sit down with that girl and have a drink, you know, with nobody in the room but me and her.’ And I was like, ‘Oh yeah! I’ll make that happen.’ I actually produced Janis Martin’s last record. It hasn’t been released yet. I haven’t been able to find a label. I may end up putting it out myself—I’m just looking for funding. It’s an amazing record. I got her to do it four months before she knew she was sick. And she did a phenomenal job singing. I’ve gotten to work with such amazing artists in my life. I haven’t gotten to meet Keith Richards yet. That’s one guy I’d like to record with. And Jeff Beck is number one on guitar. And I’d like to sing a duet with Willie Nelson. Then you can kill me.

ROSIE FLORES WITH THE HONKY TONK ANGELS ON FRI., AUG. 28, AT THE REDWOOD BAR AND GRILL, 316 W. 2ND AVE., DOWNTOWN. 9PM / FREE / 21+. THEREDWOODBAR.COM. ROSIE FLORES’ GIRL OF THE CENTURY WILL RELEASE THIS FALL ON BLOODSHOT. VISIT ROSIE FLORES AT ROSIEFLORES.COM OR MYSPACE.COM/ROCKABILLYFILLYROSIE.

These photos were shot on June 7th, 2008, at the First Annual Manimal show at Pappy and Harriet’s which featured Corridor, Gangi, Xu Xu Fang, Winter Flowers, Dame Satan, The Chapin Sisters, Rainbow Arabia, We Are The World, Hecuba, Black Black and Ariel Pink.

THE ROAD


PAPPY AND HARRIETS

THE POSTER

THE LINE UP

THE NATIVES

GANGI

WINTER FLOWERS

RAINBOW ARABIA

WE ARE THE WORLD

HECUBA

For more photos check out: larecord.com/photos