This year’s KCRW Ball may have come the closest one can get to the experience of William Randolf’s famed costume parties at the Hearst Castle during the decadent 1920’s. No matter which way you looked, there was no shortage of jaw dropping transformative wonder. Attendants pulled out all the stops, whether in home made or store bought costumes, while members of the neo-Vaudvillian troupe, Lucent Dossier, frolicked about in surreal mime action (my favorite of the troupe being the “Dirty Babies” and their lascivious handling of pumpkins).

Adding to the jazz age splendor was the picture perfect venue—the Park Plaza Hotel, adjacent to Mcarthur Park. This Neo-Gothic masterpiece, built in 1925 for the Benevolent and Protective Order of Ellks, houses multiple ballrooms and an opulent, open courtyard with ivy covered walls, outfitted for the occasion with enormous mounted discs projecting live video feed of the Pollock-esque paintings being created at one end of the courtyard.

Upon entering the Ball, the game of Choose Your Own Adventure began immediately. To the right was a room hosting ghost-stories, to the left, a labyrinth of rooms with different DJs and events, and straight ahead lay the grand staircase with a gynormous lit up mask hung above its apex, adding a perfect touch to these famed steps featured in the opening scene of David Lynch’s Wild At Heart.

Musical highlights of the night include Henry Rollins’ DJ set, attracting a wall to wall crowd of enthusiastic dancers, and Mariachi El Bronx whose set turned into a Felini movie as they performed their floor stomping rhythms in full Dia de los Muertos face paint while psychedelic projections flashed behind them and hundreds of costumed couples danced.

-Vanessa Gonzalez

Someone once told me that seven chakras run through the Earth, as they do through the human body, emitting energies which inspire creative greatness.  Supposedly Fullerton CA is one of those chakra centers, and that’s why so much cool shit comes out of seemingly nothing.  This industrial suburb spawned Christian Death, Agent Orange, the Adolescents, a little band called Social Distortion, and was home to the original O.C. punk and hardcore scene.  Fullerton may have fallen off the map since those glory days, but it seems to be experiencing a full scale renaissance as of late, what with the opening of Burger Records and the trifecta of bands generating much hype: Audacity, Dirt Dress and the Cosmonauts.  All these bands make lo-fi  stoner garage punk of the highest caliber, overtly borrowing from others while still being undeniably unique (same could be said for Burger’s aesthetics).  If Picasso’s quote, “good artists borrow, great artists steal,” is true, then the Fullerton scene is a gang of kleptomaniacal octopi.  But don’t get me wrong, this is not a dis. Exposing yourself to the best things that humans have done and effectively bringing those things in to what you’re doing takes real talent.  So when the Cosmonauts take Nirvana’s sludge, and Deerhunter’s fragility, and translate it into a psychedelic sound that fans of In the Red records will celebrate, don’t think of copy-cats, think of crafty octopi on a chakra wave.

-Vanessa Gonzalez

At a warehouse in downtown Los Angeles, preparations are being made for the most ambitious and blasphemous Black Lips video to date. Director Kyle Safieh has drawn inspiration from the 1960′s Viennese Actionists, whose performance art led to public outrage, numerous arrests and eventual deportation. How perfect for the Black Lips, a band whose musical endeavors have been intermingled with arrests, self-imposed deportation from India and shenanigans on par with performance art.

At 2pm on June 26, 2011, the warehouse where the filming is to take place is an empty canvas. One huge curved wall and specialized camera equipment dominate the space. A crew of approximately fifteen people scurry around in preparation. At a quarter to three, the crew awaits the band, as well as the video’s featured star, a pig carcass. Art director Ann Hadlock, uses this down-time to show me the costumes:  four white T-shirts and black executioners’ hoods that look like they would be perfect for a Grand Wizard at Guantanamo Bay.

photo by Lauren Everett

By 3pm, some props have arrived: two crucifixes. The first is simple and large, about eight feet tall. The second is a smaller Pagan Wreath Cross which will be carried by one of the naked girls during the procession to a crucified Cole Alexander, the Black Lips’ frontman. Next in: the pig. An entire, fresh pig carcass from a local Korean supermarket and fifty pounds of additional intestines held in a separate trunk. Everyone in the warehouse becomes very excited. The pig is placed in a jumbo trash bin on ice.  It’s head pokes out, covered in plastic, like a Dahmer victim ready for the freezer.

“Where should the blood go?” cries a crew member from the front door. Sixteen gallons of fake blood: a mixture of corn syrup, pancake syrup, red dye, and coco, are carried in and set aside. The buckets of blood smell sweet but look disturbingly real. Finally, the Black Lips arrive with an enormous bag of loot from Goodwill, $160 worth of potential costume-wear and one small stuffed doll. At the front of the warehouse, Hadlock directs her crew on how she wants the pig hung. Ropes are thrown over the ceiling-beams high above our heads and then tied to the pig’s hind legs. The eviscerated piggy is pulled upward as its legs are pulled apart. The gash down its center draws attention to the perfectly hollowed out body. Meanwhile, less than ten feet away, Joe Bradley sets up his drums.

“Nothing can go to waste…every bit of plastic drop-cloth will be needed later in the shoot,” says Hadlock. Outside the warehouse, the art crew hoses down the large plastic sheeting in which the pig was delivered.  The freshly washed plastic is laid out in the parking lot to dry in the sun.  Less than ten feet away, Ian St. Pe practices operating the chainsaw he will use later in the day to saw his guitar in half.

Back inside, Cole is lip-syncing the Black Lips’ song “Family Tree” against a black backdrop. Three cameras take tight footage of his head. Bassist Jarred Swilley walks around and takes in everything around him. He says, “I didn’t even know we were shooting a video until yesterday. I thought we were just going to somebody’s house…” In the corner of the warehouse, he flips through pictures of Nitsch’s “Origin Mysteries Theater,” which picture Nitsch naked and bloody upon the cross with an enormous, gutted lamb behind him. Swilley looks up at the real pig dangling at the other end of the warehouse, then back at the pictures of Nitsch crucified. “This is going to be Cole?! PETA is not going to like this.”

During the next scene, pig kidneys and intestines, along with Spanish moss and confetti fly across the camera’s view while the Black Lips mimic a performance to “Family Tree.” By the time the band leaves the stage area, the floor resembles a horror movie. The small stuffed doll from the Goodwill is lying on the ground, half covered in bloody Spanish moss. Pig organs line the area like a morbid game of  ”Connect The Dots.” Hadlock sends a crew member on a mission for brooms and dust pans. “We also need AS MANY TOWELS AS WE CAN AFFORD and plastic drops…LOTS OF PLASTIC DROPS!”  From here on out the scenes are going to get progressively messier.

“This is when shit starts getting weird,” says video editor Ryan Andrus around 8pm. At the other end of the warehouse, two crew members prep the positioning of the cross for the next scene. They lift the eight foot crucifix off the ground, right below the dangling pig carcass. “Is that a REAL pig?!” asks the emergency repair man, at least half a dozen times. He was called in earlier in the day after the door got caught on the larger cross and derailed. Surely, the repair man had no idea what he was walking into

photo by Lauren Everett

With the song cued, Cole lays upon the crucifix. It is lifted by two crew men holding the horizontal axis of the cross.  Once upright, Joe and Ian enter from each side with a bucket of blood and pour it over the pig carcass behind Cole. Then Jarred enters and pours a bucket of blood over Cole’s head. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat. A distracted repairman looks on from a few feet away.

Two female extras are now down to their underwear, ready to carry the fruit plate offerings to Cole’s feet. Preparations for the final procession scene begin. But there are supposed to be three girls in the procession. One never showed up. Hadlock spots a girl from her crew that would be perfect for the role. “Do you feel like getting bloody?” she asks Liz. “And how do you feel about being topless?” Liz accepts the role, sheds her clothing, and smoothly transitions from being production assistant to video extra. “Is my underwear alright?” Liz asks. “Yeah, they’re perfect,”  Hadlock replies as she places the black hood over Liz’s head and hands her the Pagan Wreath Cross. The song is cued once again and Liz leads the procession of topless girls with executioners’ hoods towards the crucified Cole.

photo by Lauren Everett

The next scene is the money shot: band and girls wrestle at the base of the cross as blood, guts, moss, fruit and jello are thrown upon them. The scenario has all the makings of a snuff film, but the band seems more nervous than the girls, whom are safely tucked away inside their executioners’ hoods. While everyone is holding their positions, waiting for the camera to roll, Jarred disturbs the peace and pleas for a shot of whiskey. Moments later the song begins playing and the simulated orgy erupts. Ian stands above, looking down upon it all, adding a note of comic relief as he holds the cross up with one hand, and eats grapes with the other. Blood and jello flows through the air, causing the floor to get more and more slippery as do the bodies that collectively contract and expand like a heaving lung. Individuals momentarily emerge, but overall the scene resembles a bloody tornado. When the filming stops, Hadlock hands robes to the ladies. “Sorry I can’t hose you off,”  she apologizes. “The bathroom’s a little flooded.”

Across the warehouse, the next scene is being prepped. Lights are arranged around a large Lazy Susan and a tall ladder is off to the side. In comes Liz, moderately cleaned up, sans executioners’ mask. Wearing only her underwear, she sits on the Lazy Susan and spins slowly from side to side as Safieh discusses the next shot with his crew. Once everyone is on the same page, the camera rolls. Liz spins slowly around as blood is gradually poured onto her head from high above. Once she is thoroughly coated in blood, a drizzle of white feathers comes down, bit by bit. For a moment everyone is silent and captivated. The crew and band alike are mesmerized. The slowly spinning Lazy Susan creates a hypnotic effect and the feathers look like softly falling snow.  Unfortunately, feathers don’t come off as easily as a light snow, and even less so when they are layered over syrup. After the shot, the girls clean off as best they can without using the hose. Feathers are carefully collected as to not clog the sink. One girl says to Liz, “Do you want to shower at my house so you don’t have to tell your boyfriend you were in the video?” Apparently, his last words to Liz as he dropped her off were, “Don’t do anything crazy.”

In the parking lot, the crew sets up the final shot of the evening: Ian sawing his guitar in half. It’s almost midnight, and the industrial surroundings feel especially desolate. One huge flood light illuminates Ian’s guitar from below. The guitar is suspended in the air with vice grips. Ian stands behind it with the chainsaw, simulating the downward motion he will use to saw the guitar in half. Once he decides where to strike the body, the camera will be ready to go. As Ian turns the chainsaw on, Safieh runs out yelling “Hold up, we can’t shoot here.  The parking lot is not in our rental agreement.” Cinematographer Cooper Dunn defiantly retorts, “But this will only take a second. C’mon!” Safieh resists the temptation, “The guy JUST said we can’t shoot in the parking lot.” After a bit of back and forth, the crew relocates inside.

Once again the lights are situated around the suspended guitar. Ian stands behind, practicing his motion with an idle chainsaw. Safieh runs around the warehouse asking everyone if they’ve seen the warehouse owner. Once he confirms that the landlord is nowhere in sight he gives the green light for the final shot. The chainsaw is turned on as the guitar is dowsed in gasoline and then set on fire.  Ian lifts the blade triumphantly above his head and brings it down forcefully upon the flaming guitar. The owner walks through the door to catch a final second of flames, his mouth is agape in horror, as if he’s about to hit the ceiling, but before he can utter a word, Safieh yells “CUT!  That’s a picture wrap!” and everyone in the warehouse starts cheering. The crew throws flame retardant blankets over the guitar and it is clear that no harm has been done. The owner looks stunned. Ian puts down the chainsaw, walks over to him, and shakes his hand.

—Vanessa Gonzalez

1. It should be dark out. The Strangegloves put it best with their lyric “The night time, is the right time.”
2. The venue should be enjoyable. This is determined by a complex algorithm involving many factors including a venue’s: size, shape, sound, decor, and rules (or preferably a lack thereof).

So when I heard that the cancellation of Sunset Junction resulted in the Growlers scheduling a FREE Amoeba show at 5pm, as well as a second show at the DIY art space NOMAD Gallery at midnight, I was happier than a Catholic priest in an unsupervised playground. The Amoeba show alone would have been a welcome substitution for the festival set. The Nomad show was just icing on the cake and an extra special treat for longtime fans that miss the days of the Growlers at warehouses and dive bars. It’s been over a year since the Growlers played a DIY space in the L.A. area, and the Nomad Gallery was a choice pick.

This Frogtown venue is tucked away in a residential area, behind large fortress walls. Upon entering, one might notice a fire pit in one corner, porta potties in another, a wrestling ring and a bar—all before reaching the interior gallery. It feels like the front yard of an abandoned hacienda that’s been taken over by an eccentric punk rocker. Inside the gallery, high ceilings and psychedelic projections fluttering across the wall behind the stage created an expanding effect to the modestly sized rectangular room. I walked in during the tail end of the Abigails set and unfortunately only caught a couple numbers from singer, Warren Thomas’ (Grand Elegance, Growlers) newest project. The old school country vibe got the kids a-shakin’ as he snarled, “All my friends are alcoholics and I am too.” Next up was Tomorrow’s Tulips and (I know what you’re gonna say, but…) I swear to god they sounded spot on like the Velvet Underground. From the back of the gallery, the stripped down drum sound and the singer’s dead pan Lou Reed voice, combined with the psychedelic images projected high above the band felt as though I was at the Factory in 1968 (who’s got the Amil Nitrates?).

As the Growlers set up their equipment, the audience grew, packed with the typically diverse Growlers’ crowd: hipsters, hippies, punks, greasers, geeks and norms in an even ratio of boys to girls. Singer Brooks Nielsen apologized for the unusually long set up time and promised a show worth the wait. It was. They opened with ‘Tijuana,’ as if to warm up the audience, and nothing could have been more perfect. Bodies gyrated slowly as the voices attached to them sung along, “Take me to the city of wasted dreams where there’s little boys with M16.” The Growlers continued rolling out hit after hit and revamped versions of familiar songs (i.e. an uptempo Wet Dreams) proving that they are continuously evolving as all around incredible musicians. Temperatures rose and bodies flew through the air as people began rushing the stage. At some point the fourth row became the first, and couples all the while danced and made out. After an hour the Growlers finished their epic set and an insatiable audience demanded an encore. The Growlers obliged.

All told, the night was a wild ride on an alternate universe path that never would have happened had the city not called bullshit on the obvious game of Three Card Monty being played by the organizers of the Sunset Junction Festival. For this, and the rampant community spirit spawned by the impromptu shows that the festival’s cancellation facilitated, I think we owe the Los Angeles Board of Public Works a thank you letter and a firm hand shake. Well played!

—Vanessa Gonzalez

—Vanessa Gonzalez

K-Holes “Creatures of War”

(from the self-titled LP out now on HoZac)

The K-Holes are witches in punk clothing that bring strangled messages forgotten long ago by modern society. By combining the most primal, relentless forces of nature with a relatively palatable (or at least familiar) punk/goth façade, the K-Holes have created the scariest new music I’ve heard in a long time. Sometimes they sound like Christian Death—with Jay Reatard instead of Roz on vocals—or the Lost Sounds with Siouxsie Sioux instead of Alicia Trout; they’ve got a saxophone that sounds like a nightmare velociraptor, and drums that hack away at the foundation of civilization. But really no amount of comparisons can explain the K-Holes, because this band emanates something much more powerful than the sum of its parts. This is music that inspires the behavior of heathens: topless dancing, violent sacrifice, Bacchanalian orgies, and New Year’s cleansings. The K-Holes are Santero Punk, and like the Cuban slaves (Santeros) who outwardly worshipped saints syncretized to their West African gods to avoid imposed conversion to Catholicism, the K-Holes have created outwardly praise worthy goth/punk tunes that pay homage to forces far more powerful than even rock-n-roll. Like a Santeria service, this album may leave you mounted by a spirit that compels you to act like you normally wouldn’t.
—Vanessa Gonzalez

Dave Van Patten

The Growlers “What It Is”
(from Hot Tropics out now on Everloving)

The Growlers have set a high bar for themselves: over the past couple years they’ve attained the eminence of a favorite pair of worn-in boots, and hearing that they were going into the studio to re-record songs from various volumes of their self-recorded, self-released Couples 1-8 EPs induced a panic in me akin to hearing someone say, “Don’t you think it’s time for some new boots?” But to my joy and relief, Hot Tropics surpassed my greatest expectations. Now in theory, the Growlers could have continued their DIY trajectory for ages. With over 100 self-recorded tracks under their collective belts, multiple full-lengths could have been formed from previous recordings and released over the course of many years. Sure, the Couples recordings are a bit lo-fi, but plenty of bands make that work for them—think Times New Viking! Re-recording songs also presents a concern: what if you can’t recreate the magic? This is the question that seized me with apprehension as I placed the needle on the 10” vinyl (the packaging on this record is of the utmost quality, by the way). But all my fears melted away with each passing track. The new recordings do sound different, but in a good way. As a rule I prefer demos and practice recordings to slick studio finishes, but Hot Tropics may be the exception. This brilliant work showcases the Growlers in their fullest stride, like fancy new boots that make you feel mature and confident.

—Vanessa Gonzalez

—Vanessa Gonzalez

Brian Stewart, Growlers, Drums: Pelvic bone
Kyle Schuster, Growlers, Keyboards & Guitar: devil
Scott Montoya: Growlers, Bass: Scarab
Brooks Nielsen: Growlers, Vocals: Lil’ Clownie
Warren Thomas, Growlers, Bongos: Pelvic
Matt Vachon, Growlers, Guitar: The Moth Man
Chris Ziegler, L.A. Record Editor: A face…like somebody rolled in something dirty and then rolled their face on some paper
Christina Benson, L.A. Record Associate Editor: This looks like a Hawaiian Voodoo Goddess surrounding by people worshipping it and some eagles bringing it offerings
Bridget Dawson, Oh Sees, Vocals: Tapestry
John Dwyer, Oh Sees, Vocals & Guitar: Clown
Kevin Stewart, Crystal Antlers, Drums: My dad’s face
Sean Borman, Burger Records: Panda Bear
Lee Rickard, Burger Records: Owl
Micheal Quinn, Corridor/ Swahili Blonde,  Multi-Instrumentalist: Pumpkin
Mike Shoun, Oh Sees, Drums: Leon Trotsky combined with the skull of a bear
Marissa Paternoster, Screaming Females, Vocals & Guitar: Two women stabbing each other in the throat
Dan Collins, L.A. Record Music Editor: Like Predator, when he takes off his mask and he’s got those claw things, but a little different, like maybe it’s a metal guy who shaved his beard to look like that
Michael Abbate, Screaming Females, Bass: That is my dad
Joe McGarry, Pop Noir: Teeth
Luke McGarry, Pop Noir: A face
Bob Bruno, Best Coast, Guitar: Goblin
Allen Bleyle, Residual Echos/Happy Birthday, Bass: Cat
Preston Olsen, Woah Hunx, Guitar: Mike Tyson mixed with Luigi from the Mario Bros video game…and really mad in prison, actually.  Like he was in prison and then got fused with Luigi and he got really mad about it.
Cameron Crowe, Audacity, Bass: Presidential Seal
Gabriel Hart, Jail Weddings, Vocals: My own reflection 3 days ago.
Matt Eagleson, Jail Weddings, Piano: Have you ever had to do soul laundry?  Like, do you ever get a stain on your soul?  That’s what that looks like to me.
Jack Hutchings, Starving Daughters, Guitar: Creature climbing a wall
Ali Koehler, Best Coast, Drums: Looks like a dude, like, sitting…meditating…with weird baby carriges floating on either side
Jorge Davila, Davila 666, Guitar: smushed face
Angel Davila, Davila 666, Tamborine & Vocals: A Japanese Woman
Brandon Thomas, Future Ghosts, Vocals: Tiger
Jesse Clavin, Bleached, Bass: Some kind of skull, not a human skull…but some kind of skull…it’s very intense
Bennett Foster, Magic Kids, Vocals & Guitar: Monkey’s paw print
Stephen Pope, Wavves, Bass: A two faced cat, who’s spitting at me, but lovingly thinks spit is love, but it’s NOT…I don’t like you cat!
Bethany Cosentino, Best Coast, Guitar: Lungs
Jennifer Clavin, Cold Cave, Synths: A king sitting in a lake
Dane Chadwick, Abe Vigoda, Drums: Sort of a skull
Juan Velazquez, Abe Vigoda, Vocals & Guitar: A smashed up panda face
Brian Hill, Soft Pack, Drummer: You know the guy who’s transforming himself into the lion-man, or the tiger face? He got all the plastic surgery.  That’s the tiger face man!

Brian Stewart, Growlers, Drums: I see some butts and boobs
Kyle Schuster, Growlers, Keyboards & Guitar: I see some butts and boobs and a penis cross
Scott Montoya: Growlers, Bass: Balloons
Brooks Nielsen: Growlers, Vocals: Jellyfish
Warren Thomas, Growlers, Bongos: Psychedelic intestines
Matt Vachon, Growlers, Guitar: Diarrhea
Chris Ziegler, L.A. Record Editor: Splatter
Christina Benson, L.A. Record Associate Editor: Marshmallow puff guy from Ghostbusters if it flew against a window splattered
Bridget Dawson, Oh Sees, Vocals: Squid
John Dwyer, Oh Sees, Vocals & Guitar: Stain
Kevin Stewart, Crystal Antlers, Drums: A bunch of ink on a piece of white paper
Sean Borman, Burger Records: Wasp
Lee Rickard, Burger Records: Buddha
Micheal Quinn, Corridor/ Swahili Blonde,  Multi-Instrumentalist: Space Pumpkin
Mike Shoun, Oh Sees, Drums: Andromeda Galaxy Super Cluster
Marissa Paternoster, Screaming Females, Vocals & Guitar: Kid in black metal make-up, masterbating
Dan Collins, L.A. Record Music Editor: That one’s totally, like, a SOBE commercial.  First of all, I know these are supposed to be phallic, but it’s very phallic here at the bottom…a little chubby, but that’s cool.
Michael Abbate: Butterfly
Joe McGarry, Pop Noir: Brains
Luke McGarry, Pop Noir: A bunch of balloons
Bob Bruno, Best Coast, Guitar: Broccoli
Allen Bleyle, Residual Echos/Happy Birthday, Bass: Goat
Preston Olsen, Woah Hunx, Guitar: This kind of looks like a napkin that’s been laid in a coffee shop and a bunch of coffee just spilled on the napkin, and then  someone picked it up, and they stuck it on their friend’s back, and then their friend got mad and crashed their car.
Cameron Crowe, Audacity, Bass: Lion
Gabriel Hart, Jail Weddings, Vocals: The mess I made three days ago
Matt Eagleson, Jail Weddings, Piano: That looks like my cat when it gets super pissed and fuckin, takes a chunk out of my nose
Jack Hutchings, Starving Daughters, Guitar: Soapy bubbles
Ali Koehler, Best Coast, Drums: A guy wearing glasses with an atom bomb coming out of his head and spreading his legs, and a tree is growing out of his butt
Jorge Davila, Davila 666, Guitar: Star of some kind with dots around it
Angel Davila 666, Tamborine & Vocals: An alter, but very angry
Brandon Thomas, Future Ghosts, Vocals: Skull and cross-bones
Jesse Clavin, Bleached, Bass: Splattered paint around toad from Mario Cart hanging at the tip of the splattered paint.
Bennett Foster, Magic Kids, Vocals & Guitar: Blood
Stephen Pope, Wavves, Bass: That’s another cat that I’m even more allergic to!  That’s a long haired cat, and I can’t be around them.
Bethany Cosentino, Best Coast, Guitar: A mushroom
Jennifer Clavin, Cold Cave, Synths: A bouquet of flowers
Dane Chadwick, Abe Vigoda, Drums: I see a skull up top and kind of this alien-insect-bug thing
Juan Velazquez, Abe Vigoda, Vocals & Guitar: Genital warts
Brian Hill, Soft Pack, Drummer: That one almost has a zebra face, but it has all these dots around it, but I see a zebra face in the middle of it.

Good/Common answer: Bat, butterfly, female figure (in the center), moth
You may be a little paranoid if you see: Mask, animal face, jack o lantern
Bad answer:Anything insulting about the female figure (it is an indicator of your own body image)”

Brian Stewart, Growlers, Drums: tarantula
Kyle Schuster, Growlers, Keyboards & Guitar: manta ray
Scott Montoya, Growlers, Bass: Donkey
Brooks Nielsen, Growlers, Vocals: Crackhead rocks
Warren Thomas, Growlers, Bongos: flying wolf-hawk…two of em’
Matt Vachon, Growlers, Guitar: Goat
Chris Ziegler, L.A. Record Editor: Pelvis bone and a tail bone
Christina Benson, L.A. Record Associate Editor: Bat
Bridget Dawson, Oh Sees, Vocals: Wolf
John Dwyer, Oh Sees, Vocals & Guitar: Yoda
Kevin Stewart, Crystal Antlers, Drums: A Halloween costume of a wild boar
Sean Borman, Burger Records: War Hog
Lee Rickard, Burger Records: Satan
Micheal Quinn, Corridor/ Swahili Blonde, Multi-Instrumentalist: Hordak from She-Ra
Mike Shoun, Oh Sees, Drums: A smushed bat on hwy 95 in Arizona
Marissa Paternoster, Screaming Females, Vocals & Guitar: Your parents having sex
Dan Collins, L.A. Record Music Editor:  That looks like the front view of a post Apocalyptic hover craft covered in dust that’s coming at you.  There’s a guy, you can’t see him, but he’s sitting down there, maybe these are controls he’s holding, and he’s gonna get you, because he needs the juice.
Michael Abbate, Screaming Females, Bass: Female reproductive system
Joe McGarry, Pop Noir: Jet ski
Luke McGarry, Pop Noir: Two dogs
Bob Bruno, Best Coast, Guitar: Elephant
Allen Bleyle, Residual Echos/Happy Birthday, Bass: Moth/Butterfly hybrid
Preston Olsen, Woah Hunx, Guitar: It looks like the main older gentleman from Fiddler on the Roof, and he’s holding a doppelganger of himself and dancing with his hand back, and they’re both twirling on what looks to be a pogo stick
Cameron Crowe, Audacity, Bass: Satanic Tarot card
Gabriel Hart, Jail Weddings, Vocals: The demon’s head I saw  when I was fourteen except there was thousands of them that took up my whole peripheral vision
Matt Eagleson, Jail Weddings, Piano:The millennium falcon
Jack Hutchings, Starving Daughters, Guitar: Bat
Ali Koehler, Best Coast, Drums: A beetle with two Santa Clauses dancing, holding on to its antennas
Jorge Davila, Davila 666, Guitar: Bird mask
Angel Davila, Davila 666, Tamborine & Vocals: A fox face
Brandon Thomas, Future Ghosts, Vocals: Jack-o-lantern
Jesse Clavin, Bleached, Bass: A bat
Bennett Foster, Magic Kids, Vocals & Guitar: Pelvis
Stephen Pope, Wavves, Bass: Oh my god!  That’s Bennet [Foster of Magic Kids] in the dream I had.  We took acid together and just fucked each other for hours and all these colors bursted out of our cocks and out of our eyeballs and we loved each other and then his girlfriend got mad at me
Bethany Cosentino, Best Coast, Guitar: Two birds touching claws
Jennifer Clavin, Cold Cave, Synths: Clowns on, like, the teacup ride at Disneyland
Dane Chadwick, Abe Vigoda, Drums: Very dark…It’s almost like war pigs or something.  I don’t know I’m getting, like, this weird…like if a pig were to go to war and it wore this mask, this is the mask it’d wear…like a metal face plate
Juan Velazquez, Abe Vigoda, Vocals & Guitar: In the middle is a scarab and on the sides are these two dancers
Brian Hill, Soft Pack, Drummer: Taranchula
You should see this image as: Two human-like forms (females or clowns)
Other good/Common answers:Butterfly, cave entrance”

Brian Stewart, Growlers: Teen Wolf
Kyle Schuster, Growlers: A bunny rabbit of Brian [Stewart]
Scott Montoya: Growlers: Sad Pac-Man
Brooks Nielsen: Growlers: Two fat Shriners drinking beers
Warren Thomas, Growlers, Bongos: Looks like the Cookie Monster if he lit his face on fire
Matt Vachon, Growlers, Guitar: House with a face…laughing at me
Chris Ziegler, L.A. Record Editor: Two dudes high-fiving each other
Christina Benson, L.A. Record Associate Editor: Scary face
Bridget Dawson, Oh Sees, Vocals: Monster
John Dwyer, Oh Sees, Vocals & Guitar: Maple Leaf…Canada!
Kevin Stewart, Crystal Antlers, Drums: A guy reaching his hands out, and he’s wearing a dress
Sean Borman, Burger Records: Those guys from Secret of Mana, a video game I used to play
Lee Rickard, Burger Records: Wolf
Micheal Quinn, Corridor/ Swahili Blonde, Multi-Instrumentalist: Grimace from McDonalds
Mike Shoun, Oh Sees, Drums: Japanese rabbit thing
Marissa Paternoster, Screaming Females, Vocals & Guitar: One of those ghosts from Pac-Man
Dan Collins, L.A. Record Music Editor: That is the grim bear of death…he’s like, “Oh bother” but he’s gonna swallow your soul
Michael Abbate, Screaming Females, Bass: That’s my dad again
Joe McGarry, Pop Noir: Pac-Man ghosts
Luke McGarry, Pop Noir: Two clowns on a round-a-bout
Bob Bruno, Best Coast, Guitar: Space invader
Allen Bleyle, Residual Echos/Happy Birthday, Bass: Satanic Castle
Preston Olsen, Woah Hunx, Guitar: It kinda looks like a drooping Garfield, like he ate a bunch of Lasagna and it was so hot it melted his mouth open extra wide, so he’s in a lot of pain.
Cameron Crowe, Audacity, Bass: Two old men playing checkers
Gabriel Hart, Jail Weddings, Vocals: A monster that’s going to  soothe me in some way
Matt Eagleson, Jail Weddings, Piano: also, the millennium falcon, but this time with Indiana Jones inside
Jack Hutchings, Starving Daughters, Guitar: A beheaded monster
Ali Koehler, Best Coast, Drums: Two weird goose humans playing patty cake
Angel Davila, Davila 666, Tamborine & Vocals: A Cartoon from Adult Swim
Jorge Davila, Davila 666, Guitar: Two clowns playing patty cake
Brandon Thomas, Future Ghosts, Vocals: Skull
Jesse Clavin, Bleached, Bass: I just see a crying animated creature that wants to, like, NOT be animated anymore, it’s like “I’M HUMAN!”
Bennett Foster, Magic Kids, Vocals & Guitar: A different kind of Pelvis
Stephen Pope, Wavves, Bass: That’s my mom.  Hey mom, I love you!
Bethany Cosentino, Best Coast, Guitar: Two jokers high-fiving
Jennifer Clavin, Cold Cave, Synths: Also clowns, high-fiving
Dane Chadwick, Abe Vigoda, Drums: Rocket taking off back in time somewhere.
Juan Velazquez, Abe Vigoda, Vocals & Guitar: A vagina
Brian Hill, Soft Pack, Drummer: Two dudes, wearing fezes, that are dancing, and they’re high-fiving

(from 200 Million Thousand out now on Vice)

Black Lips have been to or narrowly avoided jail in more countries than many schoolchildren can even locate on a map and they do a ripping cover of Jacques Dutronc. They meet here between time and space to knock out this abridged print interview. Complete interview coming soon—both by Vanessa Gonzalez.

What are you talking about in the song ‘Short Fuse’ when you say, ‘Hey Humpty Dumpty, I guess you learned your lesson / You got made into breakfast by some fat old Texan’?
Joe Bradley (drums, vocals): It’s supposed to be a metaphor for a head of state or someone in power that goes against the grain too much and then they get taken out. The song is supposed to be somewhat about predicting the future—every line in it, to some extent. But like most prophets in their writings, it’s real vague. It can be applicable when it needs to be.
The whole new album seems to have a vaguely religious zeal to it.
JB: Religion sells.
Is that a conscious direction?
JB: No, it’s not a direction. It’s just something to dabble in.
Jared, I know your dad is a prominent religious figure in Atlanta. Does the Black Lips’ irreverence towards religion cause conflict between you and your dad?
Jared Swilley (bass, vocals): Not at all—my father comes to all of my shows. And we channel the same energies as they do. We sing about bullshit, and they sing about God. They don’t even drink at their shows and they go crazier than any punk show I’ve ever been to and pass out and fall down. So trying to recreate that passion is something I’ve always tried to do through my music.
What makes you think there’s a ‘Black Baby Jesus’ on the way?’
Cole Alexander (guitar, vocals): [That song’s] like an ode to a really bad-ass black person—Obama, Jack Johnson, people that become more than a politician or an artist. They become almost superhuman. They’re almost like a messiah-like person. But it’s kind of like a fantasy I have—black Jesus coming to Earth and just being like the most bad-ass person ever.
Who is this Baby Gusty that wrote the essay in your new album?
JB: That’s Jack Hines, our second guitarist.
He says the Black Lips ‘have carried to fruition the plan that’s been hatched, and will continue to be hatched, in the minds of dizzy, dumb and desperate youths the world over.’ How have the Black Lips made that happen?
JB: Luck.
You think it’s just luck?
JB: It’s definitely some luck. You gotta have the right attitude, too.
How would you describe the Black Lips’ attitude?
JB: The best. El mejor.
JS: What brought it to fruition is just doing what you want to do. Unlike other people, we sacrificed everything, like family relationships and personal relationships. We just did it—for years and years and years. We spent a lot of time as homeless people, spent a lot of time sleeping in the van. We just never gave up. Other people coward out really soon. We just wouldn’t take no.
Is there anything that stands out as the most memorable show amongst the thousands you’ve played?
JB: Playing in Palestine was really cool—something different than we had ever seen before. We rented acoustic guitars and we crossed the wall into the West Bank into Bethlehem—just found a courtyard and set up and started playing.
Ian Saint Pe (guitar): I’ll never forget a show we played in Brussels back in 2007. I had a broken bottle go into my hand. I lost mucho blood and was carried off stage after I blacked out. I have a big scar on the top of my right hand. Jared rode with me to the hospital and as he brought me into the emergency room he made me promise to hang in there because the doctor was gonna be hot, and it turned out she was smokin’.
Where have you experienced the most severe culture shock?
JS: America. I’ve never experienced culture shock, except maybe a little bit in India. But everywhere else in the world people think rationally, and I come back to America and . . . I know it’s not all Americans, but it’s like, the ones that are insane are the loudest. I’ve never heard such inane banter as I’ve heard here. Especially since Obama’s been elected. Yeah, America bums me out really bad. I spend most of my time in Europe and when I get back, that’s culture shock. Affluent white people are insane. I don’t know. I love America but I just can’t believe it. It’s so hard to swallow.
JB: India. They have a built-in classist system where you’re just born into something that just sucks or rules. It’s not fair and it’s not equal.
What’s the most mystical experience you’ve ever had on acid?
CA: One time I became an invertebrate. I lost all my organs and my skeletal system just turned to mush on the ground. I don’t know if it was mystical, but I was really mushroomed out. It was really brief, it was like—bbbbbblllllllllaaaaahhhhhhhhhh, turned into a blob, and then I was back up again. That was intense. I’ve taken acid a bunch and I’ve never had anything like that.
Do you feel everyone should try psychedelics?
CA: Well, I don’t think people should abuse them, but if you take it once a season, I feel like it helps clarify all my thoughts. Some people take ecstasy and say, ‘Oh, I had an epiphany’ or ‘Oh, I saw God.’ But with psychedelics it’s somewhat legitimate because it makes you think outside the box so much. Everything you know is so distorted. It just makes you think in different ways. The scientist that created LSD—Albert Hofmann—he took it until he was like 90 years old, and he did it responsibly, so that makes me feel like it’s not just some recreational tool.
Is there anything you miss about being a DIY band?
JS: There was . . . but not anymore. There was a big set of bands that were like all the people we knew in the beginning. They’d stay with us, we’d stay with them. We’d book tours for each other. Now they all hate us and talk shit because apparently we’re like . . . I don’t know. I don’t really miss it, but that’s the one thing that’s missing. A lot of the kids that supported us at the beginning hate us now. Even though we didn’t do anything to them. I think it’s that Maximumrocknroll mentality. That doesn’t really mean anything now, but people stay with that—like if you do anything beyond sleeping on people’s floors then you’re a sell-out. But that’s retarded. I have a lot of friends in awesome bands right now that are really successful and I love that. Like the [Fuck Yeah] Festival even. There were a ton of really good bands that played for tons of people and it was awesome. But some people get really bitter about that. I don’t know why. It’s a really negative mentality. And I don’t like that.

THE BLACK LIPS WITH NOBUNNY, JEMIMA PEARL AND DJ SIMON BENNETT ON SAT., JAN. 23, AT THE EL REY THEATER, 6126 WILSHIRE BLVD., LOS ANGELES. 8 PM / $17 / ALL AGES. GOLDENVOICE.COM. THE BLACK LIPS’ 200 MILLION THOUSAND IS OUT NOW ON VICE. VISIT THE BLACK LIPS AT BLACK-LIPS.COM OR MYSPACE.COM/THEBLACKLIPS.