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Acid & Other Drugs |
I am now officially in cahoots. The Noizefest I wrote about for the Jazz Fest
issue ended up taking place in my backyard in the Bywater, after Jay “MC
Trachiotomy” Poggi and Keith “Deacon Johnson” Moore got in
a pissing match over the original location. We left our goat with a neighbor
so the freaks wouldn’t feed him LSD, made Moore rent a port-o-potty, then
boarded up our house as if in preparation for a zombie attack. We took no responsibility
for anything at Noizefest; despite my deep-rooted instincts, I met any request
to help load-in equipment with stoic refusal. Or actually, when Quintron, who’d
agreed to DJ, showed up with his Drum Buddy, organ, Leslie, the whole shebang,
I did help him load-in—see, you might have hosted this freakshow if Quintron
was gonna play on your porch!
In the end, the last minute venue debacle limited the crowd to about 25 people.
And because Noizefest ended up being free to the public, no one—not me,
or Moore, or even Charity Hospital, who’d been promised the majority of
the original $10 cover charge—received one dime. And thus Noizefest ended
up more of a summit, where over 40 completely original artist/weirdoes—most
of whom hadn’t met before—got the chance to play music for and with
each other. Noizefest was also like a private audition for this column: months
if not years of scene research dumped squealing, clanking and feeding-back, right
on my doorstep. And of all the acts I hadn’t seen, my favorite was Maniac
Mansion.
Not so long ago during high school in Lafayette, classically trained violinist
Sir Steven Breaux and drummer Jon Clark started out trying to play jazz standards,
and now by the age of 21, Sir Steven boasts a crunchy breakbeat record on DJ
Hell’s Top Ten list in Germany (Number Seven to be exact) and a pumpin’ electro-rock
band, Maniac Mansion (formerly Manchild), along with Clark, now 22. Ah, to be
young and have your musical shit together.
Sir Steven and Clark are of the generation of musicians as influenced by video
game soundtracks as by bands. “Maniac Mansion” is also the name of
an Intellivision game, the theme song of which the duo jam directly on top of
at the end of their last Manchild seven-inch.” But the band’s original
instrumentals are more “first-generation Nintendo,” Clark pinpoints. “And
old L.A. thrash music.” Maniac Mansion’s electronic backing tracks
share Nintendo’s bouncy, colorful melodies (the duo even recently purchased
a Nintendo soundcard to get the authentic game sounds) while Sir Steven’s
chug-chug guitar and Clark’s 2/4 blastbeats represent the thrash.
The band is also very obviously influenced by the backbeats and overdriven keyboards
of Thrill Jockey records’ Trans Am. “Definitely, Trans Am lead us
to synths and electronics,” recalls Clark. “Then from there we took
acid and went to a rave. Once we understood techno, that was just it for us.
After that, the whole idea of bands just seemed stupid.” Following a healthy
diet of Aphex Twin and a delve backwards into ’70s and ’80s electro
dance-music acts like Juan Atkins and Kraftwerk, Sir Steven completed his highly-lauded
six-track Hang Tough E.P., out on Holland’s respected Angel Maker label. “But
there’s just so much electronic music out there,” bemoans Sir Steven. “Pure
electronic music has to be extra good for me to even want to put it out. It took
me two years just to make the six tracks on that E.P. It’s just so much
harder and more stressful than playing music in a band.”
Since the duo has re-committed to the band concept, they’ve played the
Spellcaster Lodge, opened for noise gods Lightning Bolt, and rocked nicely under
my laundry-room window, among other accomplishments. They will spend this summer
touring the United States and finishing up their full-length album, Pizza Time
Theatre. Search myspace.com under Pizza Time Theatre for more Maniac Mansion
tidbits.
ABOUT (EYEHATE)GOD DAMNED TIME!
Waiting to be seated at a restaurant in Carbondale, Illinois last month (don’t
ask), I looked down and saw, on the cover of a college newspaper, Pulse, this
homeless-looking guy who used to come in and check his email a lot when I worked
at the New Orleans Public library—the library’s pretty much just
a shelter. Upon opening Pulse I realized this scraggly guy was the singer for
metal veterans EyeHateGod. “Peace through addiction,” read the headline. “EHG
showcases their death metal sound, at Mugsy’s.” As this sounded more
fun than Carbondale’s other social option, Applebee’s, I penciled
Mugsy’s in. I’d last seen EHG during college in Tampa, forever ago,
when they opened for Jesus Lizard, or Helmet, or L7 or maybe White
Zombie or… Since
1988, EHG has released eight records, five seven-inches and played with nearly
every legendary aggressive/abrasive American band.
I’m writing only half an article, because there comes a point (particularly
in N.O.) when you feel stupid loudly describing what everyone is already more
than familiar with. But for the kids currently in summer school: EyeHateGod is
very heavy, mostly slow, vaguely twangy heavy metal. Every single note is in
minor key. EHG songs feature many killer riff and time changes that sound like
they took time to map out and learn, though really the band come off more Neanderthal
than technical. EHG’s two guitars are much sludgier and downright heavier
than say, Suplecs. But while Suplecs compels you to rock along with them, EHG
are straight black alienation. Singer Mike D. Williams doesn’t bother to
act like a tough guy on stage, but nor does he give a fuck if you understand
him as he vomits up his pain. In short, the best metal in New Orleans.
Later in my Carbondale trip, the weekend section of the main local daily ran
another big picture and article about EHG (the cover, oddly, trumpeted a multi-day
Cajun Mardi Gras festival). Like the Pulse article, this one also centered around
the band’s drug use. Then the first words I heard Williams speak on stage
at Mugsy’s were, “We’re looking for a place to stay tonight.
And drugs.” Drugs are a big theme in EHG. As is the end of the world. Aside
from the one fellow wearing gray, of the 60 Carbondale dudes in attendance (and
one chick in a Soilent Green t-shirt who was acting very New
Orleans: flopping
around drunk, sweating, her pants falling off) only myself and Williams weren’t
wearing black. After the show the band gave me their new album, Preaching
the “End
Time” Message, updated me on Williams’ other faster metal band Outlaw
Order, and described all EHG’s various experimental noise side-projects.
The new record album, which includes three new songs plus perfectly rendered
live versions of old favorites, fulfills all of EHG’s dark, rockin’,
heavy-as-fuck promise. Though after many enjoyable listens, I’ve begun
to wish they’d injected more of their experiments into the formula they’ve
already perfected.
For the kids studying poetry in summer school—and anyone who’d like
to hear Williams’ voice more clearly—Southern Roots Publishing has
recently released the lead vomiter’s Cancer As A Social Activity,
a collection
of vivid imagist poetry that isn’t totally negative. Much of Cancer seems
free associative, with mood being the words’ only unifier (usually a mood
of disenfranchised hopelessness), but Williams’ evocative, sometimes perfect
word choices belie a well-tuned ear. Cancer’s verse is in many ways more
dynamic than heavy metal music is often allowed to be.
If you write poetry, keep it to yourself. But if you have an interesting, original
(meaning non-genre-specific) musical act, then I want to write about you! Send
an email to: mpw@equatorbooks.com
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