Showing posts with label Louisiana. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Louisiana. Show all posts

Oct 7, 2016

HEAVY LIDS We Believe In The Night LP

Photo by Gary Loverde
     Some of my favorite punk rock is the kind of punk rock that sounds like it is from outer space. I don't know the exact distance from where the Heavy Lids live in New Orleans is from outer space but judging from the rumbling & droned out ignition of the album's opener "Useless Escape" and the matter of moments it takes before the throttle is pulled for complete propulsion, it's my guess that after dealing with a little heavy traffic it's a non-stop trip into the Rock-n-Roll nebula.
     Ramoneszoid downstroke guitars are double strength laser beams on songs like the antsy "Night And Day", how "Pressure" total blares and the way "Trash And Burn" provides a simple sing along for making a mess of everything while kicking in faces.
      The trips to planets both weird and loud find themselves rattled by Z-movie sci-fi keyboard whirls and an nasally alien voice that doesn't ask "Take Me To Your Leader" (but will probably ask to be led to all the cold booze and hot drugs) on the garage psych twitch that's all over the splattering "Where Are You Now" and the mutant bop "Catatonic State" while "What Remains" sounds like it is taking credit for burning down the all the chicken coops on Mars.
     The record does end by falling to earth though as the rocket ride of "Manacles" seems to bolt at hyperspace ending like it is crashing through meteors on a voyage through more distant galaxies.
Pelican Pow Wow

Jan 12, 2014

HEAVY LIDS "Gravity Reverse" 7inch

     How do spacemen crash to earth and not be detected?
     Especially when it sounds like the spaceship they arrived in was made of very tossed away cassette deck parts & discarded reels of of really low budget 60's sci-fi films and rattles louder than an old pick-up truck with no muffler and rusted out box panels.
     Featuring ex-Detonations and Static Static folks and resembling something akin to deep down south and rusty razor blade toting bastard offspring of intergalactic guitar feedback noise humpers that proceeded them in decades past-the two songs here are not like painting a room midnight blue and pasting glow in the dark stars, moons and planets all over the walls. Instead, they are like lightning flashes or chemical flares as the songs go straight to dishing out parts of the frontal lobe with a spoon and then onto probing other orifices.
     Creepy organ blow out a noxious green fog that covers the ground, electric shock guitar send a billion watts of paralyzing jolts down the spine and singing that doesn't sound like it's going to ask you to take them to you leader but is going to demand to know where the nearest power plant is.
pelicanpowwowrecords.bigcartel.com

Nov 23, 2011

Wednesday Photo by Dale: M.O.T.O at the Roche



      I'm pretty sure to most readers of this Smashin' Transistors thing that M.O.T.O. aka Mr. Paul Caporino needs no introduction. If he does though I believe his Wikipedia page will fill in all the blanks. It's rare that this sleepy city has a bona fide genius of a pop song writer (who's songs never get played on "pop" radio or covered by so called "pop stars") but in June of this year we had one when Paul and his drummer rocked the Roche Bar. He treated the crowd to over two hours of his classics, dropped a bunch of one liners are flirted with all the girls in the crowd. He would've played even more but the last call lights got switched on. Everyone went home with smiles on their faces and a sway in their hips.
https://www.facebook.com/pages/MOTO/108047032562126

Jun 10, 2011

Thursday, June 30th-M.O.T.O. and the 7th Day Creeps at the Roche Bar in Port Huron

Punk pop (not pop-punk.There IS a difference) legends M.O.T.O. and local monster rockers the 7th Day Creeps. Yours truly, Dale Merrill, will spinning rock-n-roll records before and between bands. Thursday, June 30th at the Roche Bar, 405 Quay St. in Downtown Port Huron, Michigan.

Oct 22, 2010

JOE KILE "Southern Beauty Queen" LP

Getting pinned as a "singer-songwriter" can be either a blessing or a curse. To most people means denim shirt wearing Mr. Softee's like James Taylor and Dan Fogelberg. It's a pleasant and pretty and doesn't scare off grandmothers and little kids. And of YOU KNOW they're singing from their heart because you can hear their voice that doesn't ever crack clearly in the big soft comforter production. Of course those in that camp music is a remedy to fall asleep that is just effective as a couple shots of NyQuil PM with Wild Turkey chaser. But that's besides the point. After all "Just listen to their self confessional sensitivity'.
Then there's the other camp. The one that has Townes Van Zandt, Gene Clark, Daniel Johnston (well, in his "True Love Will Find You In The End" period at least) and Uncle Lou Reed during the last couple Velvet Underground albums. While all the first camp sounds like they're wearing cable knit sweaters in front of some cozy fireplace in a Colorado mountain cabin or staring at a mountain of blow in some Laurel Canyon hideaway and, in either setting, a blonde with with ironed straight hair-the second sounds dressed in faded and frayed clothes and playing for tips in some broken down coffee house or a dive bar that's usual clientele is there not to hear some songs but because the place has the cheapest cheap draft beer and well whiskey prices in town. They'll listen to the sorrow as they drown their own. The person giving the six string accompanied confessionals love probably works behind the bar but she isn't there tonight and isn't answering her phone either. That's the camp New Orleans based Joe Kile has set up tent in.
Owning a voice that sounds like old wax paper, a surface that is smooth but sports some discoloration from age and somewhat brittle & will crackle Joe Kile's songs sounds as if they were recorded at 4am and as hushed as he could be as to not wake the others dwelling around a pay by the week efficiency apartment and to be listened by those nursing a very melancholy Sunday morning hangover. Accompanied mostly by a weather beaten guitar save for the occasional second guitar, some pump organ sounding wheezes and a couple drinking buddies supplying a few seconds of call and response the songs touches on loves losts, lusts wanted, bad luck and many mentions of winter. They all sound as if they could fade off into distance at any given moment so they're songs that are made to be listened close as they could just disappear. When doing so there's slight rays of light trying to fight their ways out of the overcast.
http://www.easternwattsrecords.com/

Jul 19, 2010

MISSING MONUMENTS "Black Rainbow" 7inch

No matter what style of music King Louie Bankston decides to delve in be it southern fried rock with his Loose Diamonds, the full on garage trash like he did when he joined forces with Eric Oblivian and Jay Reatard (who passing they pay tribute to on the insert with a pic of the band dumping out beers in his honor) in the Bad Times, dirtbag power-pop in the Black Rose Band and a list that can go on and from his rural blues one band man to the Exploding Hearts to scum metal (and pretty much everything in between....except for maybe cool jazz and some techno thing-but who knows maybe he even has projects like those in the works or at least in his head too) it never sounds like genre hopping. Mainly because when Louie sets out to do something he does it in his own Louie way putting his stamp (and usually his stomp too) all over it.
For the Missing Monuments it's sounds like Louie and crew have time traveled Collegetown USA 1985 and got jobs at the record store where they argue the merits of the Feelies "Crazy Rhythms" vs. "The Good Earth" (Ya know-the downtown NYC oddballs vs. the rustic tin shed dwellers), scoff at people who buy Monkees records out of the 25cent bin (while being silently pissed they didn't find them first) and telling the Replacements new found jock audience how Tommy Ramone's production on "Tim" makes them sound more like the Jefferson Starship than America's next best Rock-n-Roll band (to which the jocks reply "Starship rocks" and then threaten to kick their punk new wave faggot asses if they ever see them at a kegger party).
Recorded on what sounds like a budget of $200 bucks (and half of it spent on whatever the popular regional cheap beer was) you get two ragged but right songs here full of frayed and cotton pilled flannel jangle and cigarette burned twang, copped from 1960's Top 40 soul hit basslines, hoarse & boozy choruses and wondering what would've happened if they went on to be produced by Nick Lowe or Mitch Easter.
http://www.myspace.com/missingmonuments