lonesome but good ...... double yer action the astro way

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MAN, OR ....ASTRO-MAN?
THE LONESOME ORGANIST
July 28th (Barrymore’s)
Be still my heart, for a double bill like yonder comes to mah fair city but once in this lifetime. The Lonesome Organist is just that, though he also plays drums, guitar, and anything else he can drag on stage, and he does it all at once. One man bands are always cause for applause, but Lonesome is inna class all by hisself. From out and out colossal rock outs to tender ditties, this fella plays both ends of the rink. And to top it off he includes a sumptuous steel drum solo and a fancy tap number (you know, with the shoes!). Only fault I could see with the mesmerizing performance was the brevity. Headliners Man, Or .... Astro-Man?, the band that is a question, spent a great deal of time setting up, but it was wholly worth it. After all, this ain’t just yer everyday instro rockout show, nosiree. With a backdrop of computer banks and projector screens, the alien fellas stormed through a churning geetar attack punctuated with the latest in archaic technology: theremins, tesla coils and Commodore 64 bleeps. Imagine a classic horror/sci-fi set and yer almost there. Can’t decide whether the double bass solo or Coco lighting his helmet on fire was my favourite part. Either way I went home quite giddy.

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tattoos and golf shirts

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THE MURDERCITY DEVILS
August methinks (Hi-Fis)
Look it was hot in there okay? Anyways, what’s inna a date? Important thing is the show, which was, simply put: rippin’. Heard about the Devils and their off-kilter front man fer a spell and wanted to check it out best way possible: up close and personal. Am propped at the bar when a plump, curly haired, four-eyed geek clad in a prickly polyester golf shirt leans in to order a rum and coke, and the “cheapest” beer ya got. I’m a wash with cringing high school memories. When this nerdy fella reaches out for his drinks I notice a red hot flame tattoo on his forearm. How odd. Next thing I know this guy’s on stage yalping out the grandest rawk’n’roll I’ve heard in quite a spell. Spencer Moody, the name sure fits, has gotta be rawk’s most unlikely front man; better suited to time behind a stack o’ computin’ devices or so it seems. But after the initial suppressed giggles cease there is little else but to let the magic take hold. And fellas, The Murder City Devils have it all in spades. A beautiful crunchy hard rock sound delivered in a slate of sticky tunes. A rarity in the genre, where most acts who know how to rock, don’t know how to write memorable notes. The Devils do both, and they’ve now a swanky looking keyboard player that’ll break yer fragile heart. A sonic delight, and oh so tight, The Devils are it. The flavour of the month.

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twin guitar poseurs

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GAZA STRIPPERS
August (The Dominion Tavern)
The latest rawk outlet for former Didjit and Supersucker Rick Sims, The Gaza Strippers finally offer a proper outlet for the minute would be rock god. Sims still pipes in with his trademark high pitched screech vocals and buzz saw guitar attack, but now he has a kick ass lead guitarist who can handle all the sped up, sugary Cheap Trick riffs he’s so fond off. This outfit kicks it live, roaring through their set like the place was gonna explode unless they kept a going. Sims topped it all off in fine guilty pleasure fashion by endulging in a lengthy Love and Rockets wigout, pointing to an imaginary distance in this wee club as if he were Paul Stanley addressing Kiss fans at Shea stadium. Simply brilliant.

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no shirt rock!

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JUNGLE
September 2nd (Zaphod Beeblebrox)
Never mind the tasteless aspect of the seventies revival, there were some worthy slices in that sorry decade, and it’s up to Jungle to set the record straight. Playing up the glam blam side of rock, Jungle crank out glorious power pop in front of a spectacular lightbulb sign announcing their presence. I believe Kiss (yes them again) used this to good effect. And though the singer wears tight pants, cowboy boots and a frilly overcoat, the music owes a grand debt to bands like Big Star. In fact the highlight of the set is a deadpan reading of Chilton’s obscure classic “Hey! Little Child”. Some may remember the portly bassist from legendary punk snots Slow. Some may not. Jungle is the hottest thing in Vancouver these days, and I can clearly see why.

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houston: we have rumour of movement!

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CESARIA EVORA
October 7th (Barrymore’s)
A packed house, ready to dance in a sweaty atmosphere; what better setting to one of the true diva’s of music. And make no mistake about it, Cesaria Evora is a diva. She comes on barefoot, showing off black nail polish, and does little else than deliver the tunes to an ecstatic crowd. Evora’s the tree stump of all performers, preferring to stand damn still and deliver her sumptuous Portuguese love songs while the masses writhe beneath. And when the opportunity presents itself, she takes a sitting smoking break at her personal stage table while the band carries on. Whew, all that standing is hard work. I do confess though that the music is splendid, and worth the costly price of admission, though the CD is almost as warm a companion. The highlight comes when Cesaria puts her mike down, shuffles a couple of steps to stage front and does a very brief jig. The crowd goes nuts. She turns and leaves the stage as if there’s nothing left to give. Was I the only one shaking his head?

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turntable rich

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JERRY GRANELLI
September 16th (The Mercury Lounge)
With the very young Stinkin Rich at the turntable and the very old Jerry Granelli at the drum kit, you knew there’d be something for everyone gathered at the martini bar. Playing for a solid hour and a half, save for an incy break, this hiphop jazz amalgam showed the young set what a real band is capable of. For the most part acid jazz is prefabricated groove jams; yummy but oh so forgettable. Quick name yer fave acid jazz track! See? But when there’s a real jazzer handling the beats, the music takes on a new dimension. The band is slow to start, but locks into a high flying groove halfway and rides it out for the rest of the eve as Rich scats out his smooth beat style rap. Granelli is surprisingly restrained, more concerned with the vibe than showing off his fancy chops, and that’s what makes the show.

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this place is comin' down!

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ROYAL TRUX
September (The Dominion Tavern)
Can’t believe my lucky fate: Jennifer and Neil, the mythical couple of indie rock in my little town? Can’t be. Almost wasn’t. Apparently they were quite late getting in, but when they got in, baby, they got in! Like Jon Spencer, Pavement and Palace, Royal Trux has a certain mystique about them. A mystique that only follows true stars, and true stars they be. Augmented with a double percussion backdrop, the Trux were in excellent groove mode, much trippier than I was expecting, but oh so flavourful. And Jennifer, well what can ya say? She just might be the last link to the glory heroin/heroine days, attacking two mikes at a time with her horse-throat delivery, while hubby Neil played dexterous guitar with his back to the audience. If this was a dream then nobody pinched me. Oh yes.

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the neckbreakers in tact

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THE SWINGIN NECKBREAKERS
September 2nd (The Dominion Tavern)
Super charged garage rawk of the simplest form can always get the throng a'shaking. The Swinging Neckbreakers have that certain something: the gift of effortless party music capable of unwinding the uptightest of us all. They’ve got that raw, rhythm and blues cavern rawk down pat. They’re the Fleshtones of the nineties, though their sound ain’t as retro, or as calculated. It’s a fresh experience indeed. Too bad some jerky mohawk decided to take the throbbing mosh pit into pinball territory. And as is always the case, the wrong asshole gets thrown out. Oh well, a good distraction always adds to any rawk show.

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by the by:
all shows in the little ville of ottawa, and all pics taken by John Sekerka