David Bowie -- Hunky Dory

www.youtube.com/watch?v=v--IqqusnNQ

Harry Nilsson -- Nilsson Schmilsson

www.youtube.com/watch?v=o3cUcHi97zY

JJ Cale -- Naturally

www.youtube.com/watch?v=kof0SLjSVac

Al Green -- Gets Next to You

www.youtube.com/watch?v=ICKToz7BLLA

Roy Harper -- Stormcock

www.youtube.com/watch?v=rQmA3ZaVS54

Rolling Stones -- Sticky Fingers

www.youtube.com/watch?v=X_x6lHCBKc4

Carole King -- Tapestry

www.youtube.com/watch?v=urt2cy7AqFs

Paul McCartney -- Ram

www.youtube.com/watch?v=SZT5XeeOOWo

Carpenters -- Carpenters

www.youtube.com/watch?v=VxHJZDIJu3M

Led Zeppelin -- Led Zeppelin IV

www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Q7Vr3yQYWQ

Download: The Mekons “Dickie, Chalkie And Nobby”

(from Natural out now on Touch And Go)

The Mekons lived Leeds but dreamed Texas and Tennessee and after finding their feet in first-wave punk songs like “Where Were You,” they left the world of Rough Trade for the open range. They are working on a new album tentatively called 100 Years and singer-guitarist-activist Jon Langford speaks as he takes his dog to the vet. This interview by Chris Ziegler.

Is it true that the son of Donald Rumsfeld is a really big Mekons fan?
Jon Langford (guitar/vocals): That’s a good question. It might be true, but he has not revealed himself to us. I never got to the bottom of that but I heard he was wandering around the clubs of Chicago with a Mekons t-shirt on. Donald Rumsfeld sort of wandered around Chicago as well. He was a congressman from here so he was occasionally spotted in sushi restaurants. And I know people who actually know him and I always wonder what I would do if I actually ran into him.
Do you think you could beat him up? Mekon vs. Rumsfeld?
He’s kind of like some sort of crazy cockroach. You’d probably keep treading on him and he’d just get up and run around.
Do you think that might be an effective way for art and music to provoke social change? By specifically targeting the hearts and minds of the children of the rich and powerful?
I’d like to think something of what we’ve been singing about for the last twenty years may have rubbed off on him—he’d probably want to wrestle his dad to the ground as well, you know? But you know what? I think I know about as much about that as you do. I don’t know. Our songs were never particularly aimed at the sons of the rich and famous.
Where were they aimed?
They weren’t really aimed at anyone. They were aimed at ourselves, I think. Most of the songs we made to sort of please ourselves or to exorcise things that are in ourselves. I think a lot of the Mekons songs are quite sad, which is interesting because we’re not necessarily sad people. I think what’s good about the Mekons is that there’s always been a kind of cushion—the fact that there are a lot of people and we all kind of share the duties. There’s never been one person with the whole burden. A lot of the people in the Mekons have been through quite a lot together. I wouldn’t even say our politics are necessarily the same or our life stories are the same but there’s definitely a shared instinctive feeling about the world. Obviously, or we wouldn’t be doing this project together so long.
What is the essential sadness in the Mekons discography?
Well, we don’t come together and act sad. We come together and have a good time. But the music that comes out is often very—I don’t know, maybe gallows humor? We always try to describe the world we live in and anyone with half a brain would find it pretty difficult to write happy songs all the time.
I’ve heard that they did a neurolinguistic study of various genres of music and that country music is overwhelmingly objectively the saddest type of music they found. Do you think there’s anything to that?
Have you ever heard the music from the Bahamas? There’s some traditional vocal and solo vocal stuff that’s mostly unaccompanied that I think is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. People who are poor and have crap lives will probably make sad music. I guess rich people who have lots of money and an easy life, they might be sad as well—but they probably don’t bother to write songs about their lives. Probably too busy spending their money.
In ‘Big Zombie,’ is the line ‘I’m just not human tonight’ a Chandler reference?
Absolutely. Yeah. It’s an L.A. song and we’ll be playing it. When we kind of started up again in the mid-’80s, we were very interested in Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler. We were touring the States a lot and that was our reference for what we thought the States should be like. Dashiell Hammett was our version of San Francisco and Raymond Chandler was our version of L.A. Every time I walked into a room, I’d expect to find a body. Most of the time we didn’t.
What drew you to honky-tonks like Tootsie’s Orchid Lounge when you came to America?
When we first came to the States we got obsessed about music and it was kind of like… most of the cowboy shops we went to seemed to be full of black people, Hispanic people, Asian people and English rock bands. So it was funny—just how you can literally claim a piece of this fantasy mythical America by buying a Stetson or a pair of cowboy boots and then going back home to Leeds and strutting around in your cowboy boots. They’d ask, ‘Where did you get those?’ and I’d say, ‘Aw, I got these in Chicago,’ you know? People would come ’round my house after the pub and I’d be playing Ernest Tubb and Merle Haggard, and these were all people who thought they wanted to go listen to acid-house or something. They thought we’d lost our minds.
There’s a quote from Ernest Tubb I wanted to ask you about. People would say, ‘Aw, Ernest, you’re so flat, anyone could sing the way you can. You just got lucky.’ And he would say, ‘Well, I sing that way on purpose. I want everyone who hears this to think that they could do it. I want them to feel that I’m no different from them.’
Is that from that Peter Guralnick book? Lost Highway? There’s another great quote in there where he says he’s singing for the boys back on the farm but he says by the end of his life the farm wasn’t even there anymore. But he wanted those farm boys to be able to sing his songs. Yeah, that’s a very Mekons-type thing. When I read that, I thought, ‘There is a connection between that and punk.’ It’s been said before that there was a connection between the Mekons and country music and I thought that was ludicrous, but as I listened to that stuff and really began to love it, it became more and more interesting to me. And then to have someone articulate it like that… We always meant the Mekons to be like ‘Anyone can do it.’ Anyone can pick up the guitar. There’s a quote from Mary Harron about the Mekons that kind of sums it up: ‘Rock ‘n’ roll is probably better played by people who can’t play it very well.’ She said the Mekons were the only people to base a band solely on that fact. It was kind of a jab as well as a compliment, but I think that’s true. That really struck a chord with me—I’ve always being drawn to music that was functional rather than virtuoso. Music that kind of has to be made because there was a need to make it.
Who are you thinking of?
Well, actually I was talking to Peter Hammill of Van der Graaf Generator who came to town the other night. I got to hang out with them and I was talking to them about what they were listening to on the bus and they were telling me about Olivier Messiaen who is an avant-garde composer who wrote something called The Quartet for the End of Time while he was in a P.O.W. camp or a concentration camp. As Hammill said, that was music that had to be made. It was a quartet because that’s what he had at the camp and they thought they were going to die, so they wrote this music. I’ve been listening to it and it’s like—you’ve got something as primitive as the Mekons when we first started and then you’ve got Ernest Tubb and reggae music that was there because it was on the street with a message that people could dance to. And then you’ve got Olivier Messiaen which is like music that couldn’t be kept in. It had to come out. It wasn’t anything to do with any commercial desires or all that. It’s just music that had to exist. There’s a lot of music like that and I find that I’m just drawn to it. It was actually great talking to those guys because they’re much older than me. To be sitting on a tour bus with a bunch of old guys drinking wine and talking about things you’ve never heard of—it was really, really cool. Peter Hammill said, ‘Yeah, that’s the secret, as long as you don’t pander.’ ‘No pandering allowed!’ he was shouting. ‘That’s the trouble with all this bloody music nowadays. It’s all just fucking pandering!’ And I thought that was pretty good. That’s what the Mekons do.
Steve Wynn said that it’s better to make a record that is just one person’s favorite in the entire world than to make a record that everyone thinks is just pretty good.
I totally, totally agree with that. I think that something happened to music when the idea was that everyone would like it. I think that’s completely unnatural. When we were on A&M, they told us that 25,000 records sales wasn’t very good and we were like, ‘That’s good enough for us!’ We’d feel very uncomfortable if more than 25,000 people bought our record. That’s more people than ever go to see any of the football teams I supported! But that was a failure. There’s a hierarchy in the music industry where you have all these people floundering around not making a living who are—to me— doing what they should do and doing a good job of it. And then you have these people who managed to hit on the magic formula—finding what it is that everybody wants and it’s all backwards. They should be punished for learning that secret. Paul McCartney should be taken out and punished.
What particular punishment would be appropriate for that?
A good lashing. No, I’m only joking, I’m only joking. Again, the structure of the industry is the problem. That’s what it’s geared to—it’s just not geared to having lots of different types of music for lots of different types of people to enjoy. It doesn’t recognize the fact that people are different—that not everybody wants to listen to the sort of crap that’s on the radio everyday. It’s very hard anywhere in this country when you listen to the radio to find stuff that’s worth listening to. I don’t think that makes me weird.
You said once that ‘society dehumanizes from the top down.’ I’m wondering if that reproduces within pop culture.
Yeah—most of the stuff that I’ve written and the paintings that I’ve made about country and western music, it was kind of about using that as a microcosm for the whole society. The trend is there and you can see it so obviously in what happened to country music. I think that goes through everything. And actually that quote, that’s not me—I didn’t say that. John Peel said that. I might have been quoting him because he said that about ‘God Save the Queen’ when that record came out and everyone was up in arms and he made that quote defending the record. He said it was a pretty simple record and that the message was society dehumanizes from the top down.
I have to commend your memory for quotes.
I know where I pinch all my best stuff from. You know, Peel was a Radio One DJ and to come out with something that profound was pretty powerful. To have somebody in the BBC defending the Sex Pistols when it looked like—when that record came out, you know… they could have been hung from lampposts and the majority of people in the country would have been really pleased. It was a very scary time for a little while.
Have you seen that kind of response to anything else in music?
Ice-T’s ‘Cop Killer’ was kind of interesting as well. It brought up an interesting debate about whether he really wanted to kill a cop or talk about someone else. It brought up the debate about what you can write about. Why is a song always in the first person? People always think when you write a song that it’s you talking. I had that problem singing ‘Cocaine Blues’ which, you know, is a Johnny Cash song. Obviously I’m not someone who takes cocaine and kills people, but it’s still a great song. The history of those songs is old and ancient.
Someone once asked you if there was a light at the end of the tunnel and you said that now that you have kids, you’re going to hijack the train, turn it around and drive it back.
I just felt like a lot of people tell me to shut my mouth because I’m not from here. I’ve got that a number of times. Mostly in hate mail, especially when we were doing the anti-death penalty stuff. I really got some quite extraordinarily vicious and unpleasant stuff. But I just felt like having kids was definitely a galvanizing moment for me. It made me feel like this is when you have to get involved. I can’t just be like non-American anymore and just shrug my shoulders and go, ‘Oh yeah, they’re just all fucking crazy.’ Because I’m one of you now.
What kind of world do you want to build for your children?
We need to dismantle what was created over the last fifty years, really. The food industry for a start. It’s a fucking hideous Frankenstein that’s killing us all, you know? I really believe that. I don’t think I’m some kind of freak. I’m not some kind of hippie vegetarian. Not that there’s anything wrong with hippie vegetarians, to be honest. I was always prejudiced against people who had, like, strong views about things like that. Now it’s kind of like, ‘Fuck, things are really, seriously wrong.’
How do you avoid becoming discouraged?
I see a lot of people feel the same way. I see the election of Obama, which I thought was impossible, you know? I’m encouraged because it wasn’t just me sitting in my bedroom. Wow, that’s change. That’s real serious change. A lot of sort of naysaying cynics that I know were like, ‘Aw, it’s never going to happen in America. The only reason this happened is because he’s just the same as the other people.’ I don’t think he is, you know? I don’t think he can be. It’s got to change, you know?

THE MEKONS ON SUN., JULY 26, AT McCABE’S GUITAR SHOP, 3101 PICO BLVD., SANTA MONICA. 9:30 PM / $16 / ALL AGES. MCCABES.COM. AND ON MON., JULY 27, AT THE ECHO, 1822 SUNSET BLVD., ECHO PARK. 8:30 PM / $12-$14 / 18+. ATTHEECHO.COM. VISIT THE MEKONS AT MEKONS.DE OR MYSPACE.COM/THEMEKONS.

THUR., JULY 2 at 8 PM: Chicano Rock!: The Sounds of East Los Angeles

“Let’s take a trip down Whittier Boulevard!” chant Thee Midniters, in Jon Wilkman’s beautiful love letter to the soulful sounds of So Cal. Narrated by Edward James Olmos, this lively and inspiring film explores more than fifty years in the musical history of East Los Angeles, America’s largest Mexican-American community. For decades, generations of East L.A. artists created a unique musical voice, and in the process, proudly expressed their cultural identity, from ’40s pachuco swing to ’50s teen idol Ritchie Valens, ’60s garage rock and soul, to punk and beyond. Chicano Rock! features the timeless music of these eras, including Lalo Guerrero, Ritchie Valens, Cannibal and the Headhunters, Thee Midniters, El Chicano, Tierra, Los Lobos, Ozomatli, and Alice Velasquez (The Bags, Cholita, Las Tres). Jam-packed with rare footage, photos, artifacts, Chicano Rock! treats you to an exhilarating lowrider cruise that could only happen on the streets of Los Angeles. Author Gene Aguilera (“The Golden Age of Chicano Rock ‘n Roll”) will be on-hand to spin classic 45s, and we’ve also got a post-screening live set by a very special seminal L.A. punk band!

Dir. Jon Wilkman, 2008, digital presentation, 60 min.

Tickets – $12

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THUR., JULY 9 at 8 PM: B-MUSIC & DJ ANDY VOTEL PRESENT: Hungarian Rock Night

British DJ extraordinaire Andy Votel will be in person at the Cinefamily to spin tunes and to present what is both a remarkable achievement in Hungarian pop culture and Eastern European film, starring some of the leading lights of both Communist era New Wave cinema and the forward-thinking Hungarian rock scene. Szép lányok, ne sírjatok! (aka Don’t Cry, Pretty Girls) stars Jaroslava Schallerova (fresh from her leading role in Valerie And Her Week Of Wonders) alongside Hungarian rock goddess Sarolta Zalatnay and a cast of freak-rock non-actors plucked from the disgruntled state-governed Qualiton and Pepita record label rosters to make this underhanded tribute to the ‘silenced’ pop group Illes, in disguise as a working-class drama/rock festival liberation expose. Directed by Marta Mészáros (wife of Hungarian New Wave luminary Miklós Jancsó) and featuring heavy footage of bands like Metro, Syrius and Omega (who can be heard on the recently released “Well Hung” compilation on Finders Keepers records), this buried and previously untranslated film holds serious appeal to fans of both Polish and Czech Cinema, Mod culture, Youth culture and obscure 70′s rock music.

Dir. Marta Mészáros 1970, digital presentation, 90 min

Tickets – $10

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THUR., JULY 16 at 8 PM: America’s Lost Band: The Remains

“Had these Boston bad boys stuck it out beyond their 1966 debut, we might today be calling them–and not the Stones–the World’s Greatest Rock N’ Roll band.” -Mark Kemp, Paste Magazine

They played The Ed Sullivan Show, were hand-picked by Paul McCartney to open for the Beatles, and then…gone. America’s Lost Band captures the essence of The Remains, one of the best of American rock bands you’ve never heard. The story follows guitarist Barry Tashian, keyboardist Billy Briggs, bassist Vern Miller and drummer Chip Damiani, the four young original members of The Remains, from their earliest beginnings to their all-too-early end, when they broke up on the brink of fame, right after opening for the Beatles’ last-ever tour in 1966. America’s Lost Band finds the heart of music that refuses to die, culminating in the band’s recent well-deserved rediscovery and reunion. The screening will be followed by a Q&A with director Michael Stich, producer Fred Cantor, Remains keyboardist Bill Briggs and Remains frontman Barry Tashian (who will also be on hand to sign copies of his book “Ticket To Ride”, as well as your Remains albums!), in addition to a live set by psych garage rockers The Living Sickness!

Dir. Michael Stich, 2008, HDCAM, 66 min.

Tickets – $12

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THUR., JULY 23 at 8 PM: It Came From Detroit

In a smashing, energetic presentation, It Came From Detroit lovingly puts on display the “Motor City”, home to an internationally renowned and influential garage rock scene. Starting with The Gories in the 1980s, the bands of the Detroit garage scene have been known for two things: an impeccable knowledge of rock history, and a raucous live show. As bands such as the White Stripes, The Von Bondies, and the Electric Six started to develop a following overseas, journalists everywhere started to hype Detroit as “the next Seattle”, and It Came From Detroit documents the evolution of this scene, from its humble underground beginnings to its ascension as a trend known the world over. And, perhaps most touchingly, the film deals as well with how the unexpected popularity of certain key bands impacts the scene’s small group of friends, as some are catapulted to global recognition, while others are barely known outside of Detroit’s crumbling confines. The screening will be followed by a Q&A with director James R. Petix, plus a live set by special musical guests!

Dir. James R. Petix, 2008, digital presentation, 102 min.

Tickets – $12

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THUR., JULY 30 at 8 PM: Pardon Us For Living But The Graveyard Is Full

30+ years. 2000+ shows. No hits. No sleep. In 1976, a gang of kids from Queens stumbled upon some abandoned instruments in the basement of the house they were renting and ended up forming a band. Little did they realize that thirty years later, they’d still be struggling to play their music and pay the bills. The Fleshtones were an integral part of the ’70s NYC underground scene and, amazingly, having soldiered on as a paradox, simultaneously legendary and obscure: boasting a rabid worldwide fan base and a reputation as a white-hot live act, but barely able to keep a record label for two albums in a row and ignored in all histories of the scene they helped create. Stunning vintage footage, insight from Peter Buck (R.E.M.), Clem Burke (Blondie) and Handsome Dick Manitoba (The Dictators), and candid self-deprecating interviews with band members Peter Zaremba, Keith Streng, Bill Milhizer and Ken Fox add up to a thoroughly entertaining portrait of the real hardest-working garage band in show biz. The evening’s screening will be followed by a live set by special musical guests!

Dir. Geoffray Barbier, 2009, digital presentation, 65 min.

Tickets – $12

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SAT., AUG. 1: BMI Roundtable Panel: Music, in Film, TV and New Media ’09

Join us for an intimate discussion of the changing landscape for music rights and new media. Musicians can find out how to get their music into films, TV and new media, and filmmakers can learn how to clear the rights for music for their work. The afternoon’s event will be moderated by Michael Des Barres, and guests include Doreen Ringer-Ross (BMI), music supervisors Tracy McKnight (Julien Donkey-Boy, Human Nature, Murderball) and Howard Paar (The L-Word, Dogtown and Z-Boys, Ken Park), composer Jay Ferguson (“The Office”), DKTR founder/film director Allison Anders (Border Radio, Grace Of My Heart, Things Behind The Sun), and more!

Tickets – $7

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THUR., AUG. 6: Wesley Willis’s Joyrides and Haack…The King Of Techno

Despite impossible odds, self-proclaimed rock ‘n roll star and “Chicago City Artist” Wesley Willis became an underground rock icon, revered artist and hero to many before his untimely death in 2003. Through his force of personality, his drawing talents, his unique vocabulary and an incredibly focused and singular songwriting style, Wesley’s creativity attracted people from all walks of life, and helped him to overcome the daily torment of schizophrenia, a haunting condition which plagued him throughout his adult life. Directors Chris Bagley and Kim Shively spent five years on the road and at home with Willis (along withn his many family members, friends and collaborators) to create the definitive portrait of Wesley as prolific artist and musician, on his path from obscurity to fame–a journey which will leave you uplifted, tickled and adrenalized.

Bruce Haack was one of the most musically and lyrically inventive artists of the early electronic age, combining homemade analog synths, classical, country, pop and acid rock elements into one massive, heady stew. His craft evolved from his passion and creation of numerous kids’ records, and today his work has inspired the likes of world-renowned musicians such as Beck, the Beastie Boys and Mouse On Mars, proving he’s an almost-lost treasure ripe for rediscovery. Packed with warped visuals, wild music and far out stories, Haack follows the King of Techno as he drops in on “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood” and golden-oldie game show host Garry Moore, playing his bizarre instruments such as the Peopleodian, a device played by touching peoples’ skin! Directed in true Haack spirit, for kids, adults and music fans alike, Philip Anagnos’ directorial debut will send you out humming “School For Robots” and scrambling for Haack’s records! Director Philip Anagnos will appear in person for a post-screening Q&A session!

Wesley Willis’s Joyrides  Dirs. Chris Bagley & Kim Shivley, 2008, DigiBeta, 78 min.

Haack: The King of Techno  Dir. Philip Anagnos, 2004, DigiBeta, 57 min.

I Need That Record! asks the simple question: why have over 3,000 independent record stores in the U.S. closed in the past decade? As much a cool history lesson on vinyl as a portrait of greedy record labels, media consolidation, homogenized radio, big box stores, e-commerce, shoddy “stars” pushed by big money and even the digital revolution, the film is, at its core, a loving tribute to the cherished nerdy record stores which for decades have nurtured our access to the music we all love. In addition to the exploration of its juicy premise, the film contains interviews with Thurston Moore (Sonic Youth), Ian MacKaye (Fugazi), Mike Watt (Minutemen), Lenny Kaye (Patti Smith Group), Chris Frantz (Talking Heads), Pat Carney (The Black Keys), composer Glenn Branca, authors Noam Chomsky and Legs McNeil, rock photographer Bob Gruen–and dozens of indie record stores across the U.S. of A.! The screening will be followed by a Q&A with director Brendan Toller, a panel discussion (moderated by Michael Des Barres, featuring special guests) on the fate of the indie record store today, a Danny Benair Record Club listening party (bring a record to share if you want!), and a record swap on the Cinefamily outdoor patio!

Dir. Brendan Toller, 2008, digital presentation, 77 min.

Tickets – $10

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THUR., AUG. 20 at 8 PM: ON/OFF: Mark Stewart from The Pop Group to The Maffia

This one’s a must for all post-punk junkies! The name of singer/industrial hip-hop pioneer Mark Stewart may not be instantly familiar, but his influence is felt the world over. From his early days with confrontational post-punk pioneers The Pop Group to his myriad collaborations with the likes of Trent Reznor, Massive Attack and Primal Scream, Stewart has provided ghostly beats and haunting vocals for over thirty years, and shows no signs of stopping. German filmmaker Tøni Schifer, who followed Stewart around for three years, has crafted a detailed, intimate portrait of the artist, supplemented by interviews with Stewart himself, his Pop Group co-horts Dan Catsis, Gareth Sager and John Waddington, Keith Levine (P.I.L.), Janine Rainforth (Maximum Joy), Douglas Hart (The Jesus & Mary Chain), Fritz Catlin (23 Skidoo), Daniel Miller (Mute Records), Nick Cave, Mick Harvey, Massive Attack and many others, plus some terrific never-before-seen vintage performance footage. Plus, scenes of the wildly eccentric Stewart interacting with his mother are not to be missed! Straight from Berlin, director Tøni Schifer will be in attendance for a post-screening Q&A!

Dir: Tøni Schifer, 2009, DigiBeta, 90 min.

Tickets – $12

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SPECIAL SATURDAY SCREENING

SAT., AUG. 22 at 5 PM: Of All The Things

The most unique comeback story of the year. Dennis Lambert was one of the most successful and diverse songwriter/producers of the ’70s and ’80s, with hits like “Ain’t No Woman (Like The One I’ve Got)”, “Rhinestone Cowboy”, “Don’t Pull Your Love”, “Baby Come Back” and “Night Shift”. He had chart-toppers in almost every genre of music–at one point, four of his songs were simultaneously on the Billboard Hot 100 chart, a feat previously accomplished only by The Beatles. That was then. Today, he’s a 60-year-old family man selling real estate in Florida. But it turns out his obscure 1972 solo album is huge–in the Philippines. A Filipino concert promoter has been begging Dennis to tour for decades, and in 2007 he finally agreed. Of All The Things is a hilarious and touching pop/rock/country/R&B documentary that follows Dennis on his whirlwind tour, as he rediscovers his passion for music and thousands of fans he never knew he had. Some lives deserve an encore. The screening will be followed by a Q&A with Dennis Lambert, his documentarian/son Jody Lambert, and some very special guests!

Dir. Jody Lambert, 2008, HDCAM, 83 min.

Tickets – $10

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THUR., AUG. 27 at 8 PM: Night Flight tribute night

Before infomercials took over the late-night airwaves, overnight programming was a staid line-up of reruns, talk shows, and old movies. Throughout most of the ’80s however, there was one anarchic alternative—-Night Flight. Premiering on the fledgling USA Network on June 5, 1981–two months before MTV’s arrival—-Night Flight was a glorious amalgamation of music videos, short films, cartoons, interviews, concerts, and cult movies. For many viewers, it was a video primer to the counterculture of the Reagan era, featuring artists and films that at the time could not be seen anywhere else and for seven years, Night Flight was required viewing for stoners, punkers, headbangers, and insomniacs. Now, twenty years after the final episode was aired, the show’s producers have gone back into their video vaults and emerged with this best-of program that will bring tears of joy to fans’ sleep-deprived eyes, as well as a musical feature film picked from the Night Flight programming schedule archives! Night Flight creator Stuart Shapiro will appear in-person for a Q&A after the program!

Tickets – $10

Mandy Moore by Amalia Levari

The new cradle-like sound stage at the Grammy Museum is built so widely that all 200 seats feel like they’re about 10 feet away from the performer. From that vantage point, all eyes on Mandy Moore registered the same sentiment: “Daaaamn, girl is well-adjusted.” Those who prefer their singer-songwriters torchy or tragic would do well to stay away from Ms. Amanda Leigh, whose preternatural pleasantness colors everything she does, for better or for worse. Her latest offering, a collaboration with Mike Viola, posits Moore as a soft-rock spitfire, a role that’s disorienting to those who know her as the saccharine late-90s pop queen whose pillowy lips were featured so prominently in videos that made dads the world over uncomfortable.

Considering that she’d sold more than 10 million records in her previous incarnation, there’s no doubt that the twangy, dusty tracks she’s cutting now will cause more than a few fans to scratch their heads. And to be sure, it does seem strained in a way—it’s clear that she’s still adjusting to the dimmer, smokier limelight. But the shift she’s made isn’t really remarkable for its maturity. On the contrary, the subject matter, though it’s buried in some impressively intricate imagery, resides firmly in the realm of 15-year-old girldom. But while songs like 1999′s “Candy” placated Mean Girls and their minions, Moore’s new work has shifted in terms of the sort of teenage girl this music is meant to reassure. Songs like “Love to Love Me Back” and “I Could Break Your Heart Any Day of the Week” speak to the jilted and awkward—girls who read Frank O’Hara poems, stare at people’s hickeys, and sing into vacuum cleaner attachments while their classmates are at prom.

Tonight’s selection of songs had an unfortunate James Taylor aftertaste that will likely land them airplay in the quagmire of adult contemporary podcasts hosted by chest-hairy men in tank tops and parachute pants. But in its strongest and truest moments, Moore’s work is sensitive and smart and sweetly sad, like a wise-cracking old lady on a parkbench with a sleeping cat in her lap. In a pre-performance Q & A, Moore’s frequent aw-shucks shoulder-shrugs accompanied gentle apologies for her earlier work, and admissions that she’s still something of an apprentice to Viola and other musical veterans and friends. When asked about influences, the mentions of Wings-era McCartney and Bette Midler somehow sounded perfectly sensible coming from her, but in retrospect, it’s impossible to imagine those two names in any similar context, other than the most exciting potential cage-match the world has ever known. And if anyone can coax them into it, it’s Mandy Leigh Moore. Daaaamn. Girl could charm the jaws off a shark.

—Amalia Levari

Download: The Shins “Australia”

(from Wincing The Night Away on Sub Pop)

The Shins right now are no longer the Shins they used to be—founder James Mercer debuted a new line-up (with members of Modest Mouse and Fruit Bats) last week and will be taking the band from Sub Pop to their own label Aural Apothecary for their next releases. He speaks now about this and Bob Dylan, Heath Ledger and Kermit the Frog, too. This interview by Daiana Feuer.

What was it like being interviewed by a Muppet at the Grammies?
James Mercer (vocals/guitar): It was crazy. You remember seeing children being interviewed by Kermit. It’s funny how quickly you look at the Muppet as a living being. It was fun being nominated for a Grammy and then getting interviewed by Kermit was such a silly and awesome little highlight of the night. I don’t think I ever dreamed I would have talked to a Muppet. But I definitely loved the Muppets growing up. I used to get so bummed whenever the show would end. I loved it.
Did you like the Muppet Babies?
That was the cartoon version? I was already a teenager at that point, so I couldn’t really get away with watching that. I was about six years old when the original Muppets came out. So I was at the perfect age to get into that. Now, for my kid, we got Yo Gabba Gabba. My baby girl loves that. The Shins performed on that show. She’s also into tricycles.
What’s the greatest thing your child said to you this week?
Oh, she’s going to be two, and she says some awesome stuff. [Consults wife] Oh, ‘Papa, change my poo poo diaper.’ Yep, and I’ve got the second baby on the way.
How has having a family affected how you do music?
I think there are some changes—related to how children affect your connection that you have with other people. I see other people around me as the children that they were, more so. It’s something that you can imagine and get there without having a kid. But having a child connects you with other people in a way that’s scary. It’s kind of scary to care about the human race. As a young man, I always thought the way to be happy was to not care, to be apathetic about the human race. Which is a weird, dark, place to be. That’s just over. That’s done. I’m not able to be ambivalent about the whole thing anymore. Now I have a huge part of me invested in the future of this planet and these people.
Having made an artistic contribution over the last decade that appears to have some major staying power, is there any parallel there that also makes you care for the world?
I actually don’t think so. There’s some separation there that I feel with the stuff that I produce. I have a personal connection to it and understand that when it leaves me it’s up to the strange factors of pop culture and how that’s going to ingest it. You lose control of it once it leaves you in a way—how it’s perceived. You do your work up front and then everything else is out of your control.
If you could show your top five Shins songs to one person, who would you want to hear them?
Oh boy, I would be really happy if the greats got what I was doing and appreciated it. Bob Dylan would be somebody that I would enjoy his appreciation. Brian Wilson would be a neat person to talk to. David Bowie, if he gave a shit about what I was doing, I would be impressed. Fats Domino is popping into my head.
If you had to pair each of your band members with a mentor from rock and roll history for a day, who would they be?
Joe should hang out with Tito Puente for a day. Ron Lewis our bass player should hang out with Jack Cassidy. Eric Johnson should hang out with Crosby from Crosby, Stills & Nash. Who would be perfect for Dave? I’ve got it: Robert Fripp from King Crimson. And I don’t know who they would match me with. Some old songwriter. Maybe one of the Beatles? Paul McCartney.
You have thirty songs ready to record with the new lineup—how much of it is open to their input?
The way I’ve always done it is I come up with a song that’s kind of the coffeeshop version with the acoustic guitar. And then the guys, we start fleshing it out, and we’ll talk about ‘how many times do we do that part?’ and structure it. The two songs we’re doing right now—‘Double Bubble’ and ‘The Rifle’s Spiral’—I showed up with two parts and they took them and we arranged it together.
What song are you most excited about right now?
I’m really excited about the one we’re calling ‘Double Bubble,’ I don’t know if that’s what it will be called in the end but that’s the working title. It’s really fun to play and the audience really likes it. It’s got a good energy to it. It’s fun to dance to, actually, which is really cool.
Is ‘Double Bubble’ a reference to gum?
Is there something called Double Bubble? Maybe it does. It actually just popped into my head as fitting the feel of the song. Maybe they’ll give us a year supply of Double Bubble.
Will the next album be the first release on your label since splitting with Sub Pop?
It looks like my old band, Flake—we’re going to reissue the record that we did and that might be the first release on Aural Apothecary. The first Shins thing that we ever did was on Aural Apothecary but we’re starting the label again to release Shins things on it but have more control—make more money. I know a fair amount about record labels, and my manager knows more. In a way, it’s kind of simple. You call up a vinyl pressing plant and get prices—they’ll tell you what they need. Then you send off a master, they press it into records and send it to your house, then you send it to record stores yourself. That’s the stripped-down version of what a company like Sub Pop does for you. Maybe they’ve got someone who does marketing and writes press releases but you can do a lot of stuff from your bedroom really. What we’ll be doing with my manager—and he did this for White Stripes, so he’s got that example to work with—we’ll get a distribution deal with a proper label and we’ll strike up a deal where we pay them a certain amount of money and they loan us their distribution infrastructure. Yes.
Now you can be a stay-at-home dad.
I’m already that for the last year, it seems like.
Do you see yourself dedicating the rest of your life to music?
Hmm. I never thought of it that way. Really, I don’t think I could say that. It’s something that’s been lucrative for me and it’s something I enjoy doing. But, other than that, I’d say,’Gee, I don’t know.’ I’m not sure if I’m the type of person who dedicates his life to anything. I’m dedicated to my wife, Marisa, right now, I think. She’s the one I hang out with when I need to forget I’m a musician for a while.
Who would you like to make a hip-hop song with?
If I really wanted to do a hip-hop song, I’d go for Jay-Z. He seems to pull it off pretty well. I’d rap about bitches and hoes. And I’d have an all-black Bentley in the music video.
Does it feel different to carry the same name but have a different band?
It’s something to get used to. But it’s been going pretty well. I’ve known the guys for a while, except for Ron, but he is a really good guy. I collaborate often with different people. Like the Modest Mouse guys. You end up working with the people you hang out with. It’s a local thing. We have easy access to each other.
How did you end up performing at Heath Ledger’s funeral?
The main person who set that up was his assistant, who felt that it would be something he would have wanted. He had done a video for Modest Mouse and was a music fan. I knew him through my old tour manager. I met him because they were friends. He was a real rock fan. I sang a Neil Young cover at the funeral. It was ‘Heart of Gold.’ That was a strange day.

THE SHINS WITH THE DELTA SPIRIT ON SUN., MAY 10, AT THE PALLADIUM, 6215 SUNSET BLVD., HOLLYWOOD. 8 PM / $35 / ALL AGES. LIVENATION.COM. VISIT THE SHINS AT THESHINS.COM OR MYSPACE.COM/THESHINS.

Eminence Front and Hula Hoops: Having no choice, I’ll own being the guy who looks like Sting standing in the back of L.A. rock venues scribbling on fragments of actual paper. I don’t mind the work and only tourists take the actual cat before their faces as the for-reals-dawg Gordon Sumner of two decades ago. Thus does my faith in human intelligence dim a little every year at Coachella, the giant music and art festival held annually in remote and dusty Indio. It was my fourth time covering the event and first for L.A. RECORD, a publication I’m happy to report needs zero introduction among the rock cognoscenti swamped inside the variegated mass of bikers, geezers, ravekids, hucksters, b-boyz, flygirls, mainstream families and, yes, tourists; with every twentieth of the latter pointing a tentative digit at my face and mouthing “Aren’t you…” under the all-obliterating sonic uproar. Such hopeful gawkerati also spotted Paris Hilton in the crowd this year, along with Jared Leto, Alicia Silverstone, David Hasselhoff, Reese Witherspoon, Keenan Ivory Wayans and more sweating with the commonality at this Great American Rockshow. Bitsy, my driver and plus-one, has a pleasant form of celebrity as the bomb-ass chick whose hula-hoop workout on the roof of her building in the Hollywood flats draws hundreds of daily spectators, with necks craning from as far as the Roosevelt Hotel. Her hips and hoop carved us a path this past weekend through a mob made agreeable, even buttery, by some of the best music likely ever played in Riverside County.

Time Waits For One Man: The weather on Friday was excellent, so Felix Da Housecat’s set at the Sahara was packed to overflow with ravers and my driver drew the first of many crowds with her hooping. At the big stage, the Airborne Toxic Event disappointed, seeming to wilt a bit in their dark clothes, but the Black Keys turned in a rousing gutbucket-rock set done in the grand manner, channeling the first-wave festival eminences like Deep Purple and the Who. Going next, Franz Ferdinand hit the mark completely, turning in a polished and ferocious performance that rocked many a skeptical veteran of the Glaswegians’ mainstage outings in previous years. The crowd at mainstage next came to grips with Morrissey, with the celebrated (if tubby) romantic opening for headliner Paul McCartney. Alas, we were far away at the Gobi (throwing down to heroic dancefloor sets by Bug and Peanut Butter Wolf) when Moz threw his celebrated bitchfit, storming offstage in the middle of his performance, his still-fetching nose sickened by the smell of frying burgers. Leaving a whirling Bitsy with our cool-as-fuck campmates, I met my friend Kirsten at the Do Lab’s rocking misting station, and we dallied at Silversun Pickups’ triumphant star turn on the Outdoor Stage. I’ve followed these local prodigies from their earliest appearences and they laid into the audience with new songs off Swoon, a long-awaited sophomore album fitting punky rhythms, sheets of decorative noise and an adroit four-fingered salute to Iron Butterfly into the band’s established sound. Guitarist Brian Auber bitched wittily about the Cute Beatle, as the rest of Friday night began shutting down and we drifted to the mainstage for the Act We’ve Known For All These Years.

Anon roared the profound nonsense of “Jet” and a spry and slender sexagenarian named Sir Paul McCartney went on a 33-song stomp though one of the premier music catalogs of the twentieth century. The set incorporated songs by John and George along with a few surprises and a long trawl through his 1970s and ‘80s Wings albums. From the square of way upfront where we stood, it looked like a big chunk of Macca’s present-day fanbase is composed of tender-looking indie-pop kids and these imps were as blown away as any of the hard-bitten journos who raved of Friday’s finale. Like the peachfuzztone young ‘uns prostrate before Roger Waters at last year’s festival, they’d come to see someone (correctly) regarded as one of the Immortals and a still-vibrant presence in their own rock ‘n’ roll lives. Sir Paul outlasted everything else on the lot, going on almost an hour past the 1 AM closing. Looking at beginnings of the second-highest take in festival history, organizers wisely decided the $1000-a-minute the city of Indio charges for after-curfew music was the merest bagatelle.

We Are the Night: The hour was well advanced by the time we made it out to the Polo Grounds on for Saturday’s bop-til-you-drop. Drive-By Truckers were shivering to a bravura conclusion with a cover of Jim Carroll’s “People Who Died” at the Outdoor as Michael Franti & Spearhead (who were playing late-night desert gatherings of Burners just a few years back) were vibing tribally from the big stage. Passing the Mojave stage on our way to dance to the Bloody Beetroots DJ set at the Sahara, I saw a tiny Henry Rollins deep within, belaboring a milling fringe of onlookers like the village atheist. As the sun went down, longtime Coachella vets Thievery Corporation did a rousing beat-heavy set on the mainstage, heavy with their patented thundering harmonics and bracing agitprop. I left the din with a lovely campmate named Kat to check out Booker T. & the DBTs, with members of Drive-By Truckers backing organist Booker T. Jones, venerable anchor of 1960s soul giant Stax Records, in a welter of raw Dixie funk. Our by-then swollen party skipped Turbonegro and passed on M.I.A. for the dance-dance immolation incinerating the Sahara for the rest of the night. I heard about the Killers’ less-than-adequate mainstage turn at soured secondhand and felt glad to have trusted my social instincts, as first mash-up kings Crookers then a DJ set by the Chemical Brothers then a balls-out performance by MSTRKRFT slammed beats into a writhing mob of friendlies, with Chem Bros. lifting an already bliss-dosed, e-sodden, candy-flipped-out mob into the stratosphere with a robot-chant of “Some chemicals are good/Some chemicals are bad.” True dat, but the bad were mainly rotten vibes emitted by a pushy wedge of aristos pitching random helots out of the way a few feet from my group. Online sources credit Paris Hilton and her entourage with the brief disturbance, but from what I saw, the culprits could’ve been any clutch of overdressed Hollywood Boulevard shitheels. It was just like a night in the L.A. underground, minus the sketchy nabes and a chance of being mugged.

Feedback Apocalypse: We’d raged hard the night before and the sun was well along its path before Bitsy and I struck camp Sunday afternoon and loaded out for the festival. Staying since Thursday night at a campground by the Salton Sea with a group of sexy party-hardy Burners had the great advantage of dead calm at night, broken every few hours by the symphonic Doppler roar of a Union Pacific freight train high-balling by. Jointly feeling heat exhaustion and sleep deprivation while singly spacing out from individualized drug intake, we tootled the three-dozen miles to Indio on an overheated engine, arriving just in time to miss Perry Ferrell’s now-traditional Sunday DJ slot at the Sahara. We got our groove on briefly with Plump DJs, before gliding past hundreds of exhausted attendees for whom a hooping hottie and some mutant looking like Sting held no interest. We flopped happily far up front at mainstage as lengthening shadows set the mood for My Bloody Valentine. Management was handing out earplugs at the gate and small wonder, since toward the end of “You Made Me Realise,” guitarists Kevin Shields and Bilinda Butcher (the latter impassive as a Xanax-bombed soccer mom) loosed a gorgeous fifteen-minute-plus feedback annihilation that was easily the loudest thing I’ve ever heard in decades of doting on amplified music. I can’t imagine how the Horrors could hear even themselves going off at the Gobi many hundreds of yards away. It was less a solo than a hideous (and hideously effective) evocation of nightmare; a compressed and aestheticized variation on the opening bombardment at the Somme, another historic din that produced few actual causalties. The crowd, thus blitzed and shit-hammered, was easy mop-up for the Cure, since even the dirgiest of their album tracks sound like 1910 Fruitgum Company by comparison. Bitsy was limp with exhaustion, but these Byronic proto-goths are her favorite-ever band and she was soon slicing circles through the audience with her hoop. I let her decide when she’d had enough and escorted her out when she did, leaving the headliners to what observers described as a power-trawl through B-sides and obscurities that went on until approximately 1:30 a.m. when organizers pulled the plug and the band did two more numbers in the dark. About 70 minutes later, I was standing in front of my crib in Boyle Heights, watching Bitsy’s taillights fade up the street. On my desk was a notice that the cheerful folks at the Lugo Station post office had my ticket to Burning Man 2009. Bon temps roulez, motherfuckos.

—Ron Garmon

All I’ve got to show from Coachella is a sunburn, a pimple, and a busted bottom lip. While there, I enjoyed: half-assed ass shaking to Crystal Castles, Ting Tings, and Girl Talk; Morrissey looking bloated but still croonin’ like a pro; Paul McCartney singing me to sleep as I lay in my tent; worrying that Ariel Pink was either going to melt or collapse into a pile of dust when exposed to daylight; watching Liars (featuring Alex Myrvold of Pizza!) squirm through my favorite songs while I wondered whether their presence signified a new direction for Coachella (towards an aesthetic I find much more attractive and interesting than that of, say, the stupid Killers) or simply reaffirmed my aforementioned belief that some music is best kept in dark places where sweat is produced via dancing hard as fuck rather than by standing in the fucking sun thinking, “I would be dancing right now if I weren’t sweating my balls off!”

And: I guess I do like that one TV on the Radio song; how gross but totally radical it is that M.I.A. can hop and squat and shimmy and slam like that so soon after popping a baby human out of her vagina? I mean, I hate it when people talk about their babies and how their babies are waiting for them so they can only sing seven songs but I’ll take seven songs and some dumb-ass baby banter if it means I also get amazing glow in the dark costumes and hammer-dancing in front of footage of impoverished Sri Lankan militia men while M.I.A performs effortlessly, barely breaking a sweat—unlike Gwen Stefani who looked like a sweaty bag of shit for several performances after birthing Kingston.

And: the Vivian Girls looking too shampooed to have all that hair in their face and doing absolutely nothing new but making me like them anyway—also a case of No One Dancing until my buddy Jack and I started a water-spitting war and got at least 12 too-skinny kids in short shorts to move, although they were mostly just scurrying away from us but really where’s the line between that and the way hipsters dance, anyway? Plus the Vivian Girls really know how to harmonize and they swapped instruments during a coda without any awkwardness at all, a well-choreographed gimmick that reminded me of how cool I felt the first time I switched drivers going 80 on the freeway but then also how I wondered immediately after, “Why did we just do that?” But then I thought immediately after that: “Sometimes it’s good to do something just for fun, even if it could kill you.” Not that the Vivian Girls switching instruments during a song could kill anyone—the analogy really lies in the doing something just for fun part, because you are young so maybe it’s enough that you are new even if what you’re doing is not.

Also—how No Age has really gotten their shit together. They are now a professional act complete with Scott their very own sound guy (ex-drummer for the Soft Boiled Eggies) and Jim Smith who coolly orchestrated the tech guys to get it all just right so that this show actually did get people bouncing up and down and shoving each other a bit. Plus Chloe Sevigny, one of my first female crushes, was there looking like a fancy rancher’s daughter wearing a white dress that was sort of see through if you stared at it long enough and with her golden locks in a tidy French twist. And: how I can’t help but hum along to that goddamned whistly song by Peter, Bjorn and John.

Finally: how watching X and My Bloody Valentine put into perspective all these kids making noisy pop music by recalling the rich and fabled genealogy of this newfangled uprising and putting a sincere (albeit wrinkled) face on sounds that were once something controversial and that today’s babies take for granted… it must be oddly pleasant to play a show you never would’ve been asked to play in your own heyday, knowing that tropes you helped invent are propelling smooth-skinned foals into stardom from what middle-aged critics are carelessly referring to as the “outside” or the “fringes” while you wonder where the hell that leaves you? But I guess that’s how culture propagates itself and blah-blah-blah babies are gross, even when they are not babies but musical movements.

I didn’t get to see Public Enemy because I was busy almost getting arrested. Then I was not allowed back in so I didn’t get to see the Cure either. Lame.

—Drew Denny

Download: A Place To Bury Strangers “To Fix The Gash In Your Head”

(from the self-titled album on Killer Pimp)

A Place To Bury Strangers believe in girl groups who ride motorcycles and custom-made guitar pedals that punch identical holes in ceiling and floor. They perform today at Coachella opposite Paul McCartney, who would probably like them. This interview rescued from the archives and conducted by Vanessa Gonzalez.

I can’t tell you how excited and surprised I was to see the Crystals listed as the first influence on your Myspace page.
Oliver Ackerman (guitar/vocals): The Crystals are AMAZING!
Who do you think would win in a fight between the Crystals and the Shangri-Las?
Oh, are you kidding? The Shangri-Las would kick the Crystals’ ass so easy. They were like the bad girls of all that stuff. They would take their motorbikes and run-over the Crystals—back and forth over their head most definitely! Drive them all up and down the street!
But musically you prefer the Crystals?
Do I PREFER the Crystals? Ahhhhh…I dunno know? I really like the Shangri-Las as well. That’s kind of a hard call. I guess it depends on your mood, ya know? Sometimes the Shangri-Las are what you want to hear. But ya know, the Crystals—some of the songs are just sung so well, and they’re such good songs. It’s hard to beat that, too.
Sometimes you get hit, and it feels like a kiss?
Yeah, totally. Especially if you’re kinda drunk. That’s so bad.
Has Phil Spector’s ‘wall of sound’ influenced your production values?
Definitely. That stuff is amazing, and that is stuff I grew up on. And as an aesthetic, and even I think song structure and writing style, I like that kind of stuff—the old pop classic sort of thing. I don’t have all these orchestras and instruments but we definitely try and make as many different sounds and have things come together and make it interesting. I definitely make a lot of pedals to achieve a certain sound, or some specific idea, as well as sometimes you’ll discover some cool idea within some sound that you’ve created. There are songs that have nothing to do with the pedals, but that definitely helps us get the sound that we want—to manipulate that anytime. It just works from what’s appropriate.
I heard you guys record in your RV?
Sometimes we get to places where we can do a little bit of work, but not really that much. There’s sorta some room to do some things, but not really as much as you would like.
How was the first album recorded?
Most of that album was just demo songs that I recorded myself with all sorts of different mediums—drum machines and stuff. All sorts of stuff thrown together—experimenting with 8 tracks, and the computer. It’s like almost everything was just kind of an idea for a song—songs that I wanted to listen to and hear myself, whether anyone else was going to or not.
So they were not intended for release?
Exactly. We were just kinda demoing things out, and then we released these EP CD-Rs that we would sell at shows or give away so that people would hear the music. And then we played a show in Austin, and the guy that runs the label that released our record wrote on a napkin that he’d like to release a bunch of the EPs as a CD and that he’d give us all the profits or something like that, and we were really reluctant to do it actually. It sounded kinda good, but it also sounded like not a good idea—I don’t know why. But I’m glad that we did it because it seems to have worked out pretty good.
Why the reluctance?
I guess I felt like everything wasn’t ready, or that it wasn’t really quite like a whole album or anything like that. Definitely all the songs were recorded to sound the way that I like to hear things. But I guess I had heard some things from different people—‘Your music’s got to be really slick…’ and all this bull crap that I don’t really believe ‘…to be listened to and appreciated by people.’ But I know that kind of stuff is just shit. And I’m really glad that people like the album the way it is because it means that we can kind of continue to work and create things that we think sound good, whether it’s commercially viable or not. I think that we can focus on just kind of making everything sound really good rather than sound commercial.
Like Times New Viking? They’re ultra lo-fi, but it sounds amazing and they write good songs and…
Times New Viking is an excellent example.
What was it like going on tour with Nine Inch Nails?
It was RIDICULOUSLY high tech! MY GOODNESS. It was AMAZING! It was really fun. It was also like, completely silly—you just feel like ‘What are you doing there?’ They had this huge crew of 85 people or something like that with all these really cool nicknames like ‘RADAR’ and ‘LAZER’ and ‘FOXTROT’ or something. It was so amazing. I guess they sorta look the part. It’s just a bunch of dudes all dressed in black with headsets and walkie-talkies. They weren’t menacing or anything like that. But they all had really cool names. I don’t know where they got em’ from. They put on just a ridiculously good show. They had these walls of light that were moving around and going in front of them and behind them and all this—just so intensely planned. But they were playing all the instruments live, and it was really cool. It wasn’t cheap, like you could easily imagine a lot of people would do. There were video cameras across stage and then maybe some sensors on their hands and they would wave their hands across the lights and stuff and the lights would shoot out of their hand—really crazy ridiculous things.
Is that a level that you are trying to attain?
Not quite. I thought what they were doing was cool. It wasn’t exactly something I would have done per se. But what would you do with millions and millions of dollars to put on some show? It was kind of ridiculous. I don’t think I would do that. I think maybe just keep things simple and just give the money to someone less fortunate—hand out cars to all the audience members.
Was being the opening act for a band with such an intense fan base uncomfortable?
Everyone was really cool actually. People were cheering and going nuts and it was really good. We were definitely well received. But talking to a bunch of these kids when you go out into the crowds—some of the fans, it’s almost like their lives revolve around Nine Inch Nails. Nine Inch Nails patches and hats and they have screen names for the fan club and stickers all over their car. I definitely had a lot of people ask me, ‘What’s Trent like? Gee, I wish I had a demo tape of my band with me so that you could give it to him.’ Almost all the shows were at these basketball stadiums, so we’d be in a locker rooms for a whole basketball team—rows and rows of showers, and all these closets and huge screens TVs, and the catering was unbelievable. Baked salmon with lemon-pepper and wine sauce drizzled over it—crazy, amazingly good food. Everyone was really nice. It was super cool.
How did you get into making pedals?
Just trying to create sounds that I couldn’t get in other places. I failed miserably for years and then kindda figured out how to make things work. And then I started the company because I wanted to go to Europe for a month as a vacation, but I didn’t really have any money, and I had this idea for a pedal that no one else had ever come out with before, and I just kind of marketed that real quick and I made enough money to go. Total Sonic Annihilation. The flagship of Death by Audio. At that time I was pretty much on my own. I was living in Fredericksberg, Virginia, with about two to three people at most that you’d want around you at any given time, and we had this really huge warehouse that we rented for nothing. A couple bands practiced there. They all paid the rent, so I was living for free in this huge warehouse. And I was the only one who lived there because everyone else was afraid. I don’t know—some people like home life or something! So I was just in there, doing that stuff, and you could be up all night experimenting. I was playing in that band Skywave at the time, and our last album Synthstatic, we recorded—it took maybe two and a half years to record and mix. I was doing that every single day—recording and mixing that album. I left Virginia because it felt like Skywave wasn’t going anywhere. Like the last Skywaves tour—one of the guys didn’t even want to go on the tour, so we had someone else come as a replacement. And then the other guy in the band was married and had two kids and couldn’t really do too much. So I was just kind of like, ‘Well, I guess I’m going to move to New York.’ Then shortly after I was there I met two guys who were interested in doing something.
Can we do the rest of the interview as Two Truths and a Lie? I’ll give you a category, and then you tell me two truths and a lie about it. Lets begin with A Place to Bury Strangers: The Early Days. And I’ll start us off as an example. 1. I was so excited the first time I heard Oceans on the radio, that I pulled over to write your band name down. 2. The first time I visited your Myspace, I listened to your 4 songs for 3 hours straight. 3. I wrote you guys a fan letter after I bought your album, but I was too embarrassed to ever mail it. Which is the lie?
Number 2.
No, the last one. I haven’t written a fan letter since New Kids on the Block in Elementary school. But I really did listen to your songs for 3 hours straight.
That’s amazing. Someone must have drugged you.
Your songs did. Okay, your turn.
Alright. 1. Our drummer got hit by a car, and then plays a show…right after getting hit by a car. Alright…what’s another truth?
Oh no, don’t tell me which are true—I have to guess!
I know, I know! I’m just messing with you. Alright, this is the lie right here. These are just all going to be about drummers. 2. Our drummer threw a stick into the crowd, it hit someone in the face, and then BAM—they fell to the ground. 3. One time our drummer dropped his sticks and then played the rest of the set with his hands.
Playing the drums like the congas is the lie.
Nope, that’s true. Couldn’t even tell!
Closed fist or open handed? How did he do that?
I don’t know; he was an animal!
So the lie must be the second one.
How’d you know?
The way you called him an animal I figured he must have played a show immediately after getting hit by a car!
Yeah, that’s true.
How badly was he hit by the car?
Not that bad. He was okay.
Alright, next category. Geography. Tell me two truths and a lie about cities you’ve been to.
1.There is a place in Canada named Regina, and the sign, when you drive in, says ‘The Place that Rhymes with Fun.’ 2. There is a place in Portland where you can get drinks for 50 cents. It’s called the Lionshead. Next time you’re in Portland you have to go.
50 cent drinks! For like, a full pint of beer? Any drink?
Yeah, totally! I mean, it all comes in plastic glasses, but it’s totally worth it! TOOOOTTTALLLY bottom shelf booze. But still worth it!
Tell me something about Seattle.
Of all the places I’ve been in Seattle, at least fifty percent have something to do with space, like the Space Needle, or the Cosomonaut or the Apollo. I even ate a sandwich that was called the Space Blaster or something.
Which is the lie? What was the first one? I don’t even remember. Oh yeah. The town in Canada. I hope that one’s true. I’m going to say the last one is false.
No, it was the place with the fifty cent drinks. Doesn’t that suck? Didn’t you want that to be true?
So what was Regina like?
It was like New Jersey or something like that. It was kind of industrial and really desolate. But the place really did rhyme with fun. Those wacky Canadians.
Next category: guilty pleasures.
Alright, let’s see… 1. Jameson Whiskey. 2. I really love to shoot guns. 3. I love scrambled eggs and Cool Ranch Doritos.
That’s like trailer park chilaquiles. I’m going to go with the last one. I can see you wondering around your empty warehouse shooting guns off all night while you’re playing with your Sonic Annihilator pedal.
Actually, I don’t like shooting guns. I’ve done it a few times, but I don’t think it’s that cool.
Too bad. But that was a good lie. And the fact that you eat scrambled eggs with Cool Ranch Doritos is an awesome truth.
Shooting guns isn’t even that bad. It can be fun now that I think about it. But alright, what else you got?
Childhood.
Alright. 1. Me and some friends were trying to figure out what drugs were, so we rolled up herbal tea and cigarettes, and smoked it together. 2. When I was young, I used to drive like a maniac, and I’ve taken a car to 160 mph—a Chevy Caprice. 3. I am a—well I’m not so much anymore, but I used to be a juggling MASTER. I used to be able to juggle knives and swords and stuff.
Knives AND swords?
Oh no, just knives. I didn’t say swords.
I’m going to have to say the last is false.
How’d you know?
What kind of tea were you mixing into your cigarettes?
We tried all sorts of stuff—all different flavors, and none of it worked. We must’ve smoked like a pound. We used to do all sorts of stupid things.
Last category. Touring.
1. We had an RV and I’m the only person’ s who ever got it slightly wrecked by scraping the whole side of the RV on some cement, and then we tried to lie to the rental place about it. 2. One time, at the end of a tour, and this is a tour with a car, and you couldn’t start it except push start it because it was about to die, and the last date was a 24-hour drive back home and we push started the car and drove the entire 24-hours without stopping it once, and filling up gas while it was running. 3. One time while playing a show I was jumping around and got totally knocked out, and when I came to I didn’t know what the hell was going on. It was so insane, like the earth was ending, but the show never ended.
Taking after your warrior drummer, the show must go on.
Most people I don’t think even noticed it because there was all this feedback, and they just thought it was part of the show. Things were kind of crazy anyways.
The lie is the last one.
Dang it. Yeah, it is.

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