AG’S 5TH ANNIVERSARY! MC TRACHIOTOMY’S EUROPEAN INVASION, PT. 2
BALLZACK LETS ODOMS “ATOM”
PEEKERS
DOES YOUR BAND SUCK?
8
www.antigravitymagazine.com
free!
PHOTO BY MANTARAY PHOTOGRAPHY
STAFF
PUBLISHER/EDITOR IN CHIEF:
Leo McGovern
leo@antigravitymagazine.com
ASSOCIATE EDITOR:
Dan Fox
fox@antigravitymagazine.com
CONTRIBUTING WRITERS:
Musa Alves
musaalves@gmail.com
Emily Elhaj
elhaajj@gmail.com
Erin Hall
erinhall@antigravitymagazine.com
Nancy Kang, M.D.
nancy@antigravitymagazine.com
Dan Mitchell
danmitchell@antigravitymagazine.com
Mike Rodgers
mike@antigravitymagazine.com
Brett Schwaner
brett@antigravitymagazine.com
JW Spitalny
jw@antigravitymagazine.com
Mallory Whitfield
mallory@antigravitymagazine.com
Derek Zimmer
derek@antigravitymagazine.com
AD SALES:
ads@antigravitymagazine.com
504-881-7508
Cover Art by Gabe Flores
(inkwellpress@gmail.com)
We like stuff! Send it to:
4145 Iberville St.
New Orleans, La. 70119
Have listings? Send them to:
events@antigravity
magazine.com
FEATURES:
ANTI-News_page 6
Some of the news that’s fit to print.
MC Odoms_page 14
It’s the West Bank invasion!
The Peekers_page 16
Dan Mitchell has a sweet sit-down dinner.
Tyson
Gets punched out_page 20
Your Band Sucks_page 17
Consider Dan Fox’s gauntlet thrown.
MC Trachiotomy_page 18
It’s the European invasion, Part II!
COLUMNS:
Guidance Counseling_page 10
Robb Roemershauser dishes advice.
The Goods_page 11
Rock out to some Metal.
Dr. Feelgood_page 12
Got that smoker’s cough?
Slingshots, Anyone?_page 13
Exactly how does one sneak into a show?
Photo Review_page 24
The month in photos.
J Yuenger’s Crossword_page 30
ANTIGRAVITY is a publication of
ANTIGRAVITY, INC.
RESOURCES:
Homepage:
antigravitymagazine.com
Twitter:
twitter.com/antigravitymag
MySpace:
Can J stump you?.
REVIEWS (pg. 20):
Albums by Blank Dogs, Camera Obscura,
Conor Oberst and The Mystic Valley Band,
Dan Deacon, The Decemberists, Peaches,
Serge Gainsbourg, Super Furry Animals, Wilco, The novel Pygmy...
EVENTS (pg. 22)
May listings for the NOLA area...
myspace.com/antigravitymagazine
COMICS (pg. 26):
Qomix, How To Be Happy, K Chronicles,
Firesquito.
4_antigravity: your new orleans music and culture alternative
ANTI-NEWS
ANTIGRAVITY TURNS 5, SAYS THANKS
AND CELEBRATES A NEW OFFICE
T
hat’s right, folks, for the first time since the fateful summer of 2005 this magazine
will have a brick-and-mortar base of operations. It won’t officially happen for another
couple of months, but sometime before Fall you’ll be able to visit ANTIGRAVITY
inside the new location of the soon-to-be-reopened Crescent City Comics at 4916 Freret St.,
between Napoleon and Jefferson. As any longtime reader of AG knows, we’re big on comics
here, so you know we’ll be psyched to be based in a comics shop. Be on the lookout for events
and a dose of whatnot to be going on as we get settled in.
As you can tell from the cover of this issue, this month marks our fifth anniversary, and I
can’t begin to tell you how mind-blowing it is to have gotten this far. Thanks goes to all of you
who read this magazine, if we didn’t have you we’d be singing into the wind. Obvious in this
economic time, major thanks goes to our advertisers, past and present. We have a few businesses who’ve had long, long runs with us, like Twisted Hair Salon, Metro Three, Louisiana
Music Factory, Skully’z Recordz, Charitable Film Network, clubs like One Eyed Jacks, d.b.a.,
House of Blues, the Hi-Ho Lounge, so many I can’t list them all here, but we thank you guys
and every other business that’s trusted us enough to support us monetarily. We don’t make a
ton of money around the AG offices—we all still have our day jobs—but we make enough to
keep this thing going and we appreciate every opportunity to write about what we love and get
it out to the masses, and all our advertisers provide that. Not for the last time, Thanks.
We’ve had plenty of talented and passionate writers and photographers contribute to this
magazine over the years, none as important and as indispensable as Dan Fox. He’s been the
real glue that’s held this thing together over the last few years, and I can’t thank him enough. I
challenge you to find another person with the combination of knowledgeable and passion for
New Orleans music that Dan has. Brett Schwaner’s someone who’s been with AG for a relatively short time but who’s proven to be a go-to-guy nonetheless. Dan Mitchell’s a rising star,
as evidenced by this month’s piece on The Peekers. Mike Rodgers is someone our reviews
section might not exist without. Many contributors, all worth reading, and we thank them all
for working hard for sometimes (okay, mostly) little remuneration.
Thanks also goes to my family and my wife Michelle for continually putting up with a
publisher’s life of deadlines and stress. Many thanks, as we always mention this time of year,
to the two guys this publication might not exist without, Noah Bonaparte Pais and Patrick
Strange. Two guys that couldn’t deserve greener pastures more.
So we continue on much as we have for the past five years, writing and publishing every
month, and we hope you’ll continue on with us. Thanks again, and we’ll make sure you know
when the office party is. —Leo McGovern
6_antigravity: your new orleans music and culture alternative
DEAD SOULS: D.O.A.
S
hoveling the dirt on Dead Souls after only two issues
may be a bit hasty, but the recently-released historicallyinspired gothic vampire comic book series by New
Orleans scribe Kurt Amacker and artist Louis Manna does,
unfortunately, have one messy foot in the grave from the start.
Dead Souls is a modern interpretation of real life “vampires”
Vlad Dracula and Elizabeth Bathory (pretentiously spelled
“Erzsebet Bathory” throughout this ho-hum exercise). In
a convoluted turn of events, Vlad and Liz find themselves
in modern day New Orleans, stalking the streets, skulking
around dark back alleys, and being pursued by the authorities
and lots of guys in similarly drawn business suits. What goes
on between the covers is mostly irrelevant amidst a mish-mash
of inconsistent artwork and pools of heavy dialogue. There
are a few fistfights and clenched jaws thrown in for good
measure, some bare-chested Russians, and a scene in which
Dracula smites his enemy with a handgun (Really?). Oh, and
it’s completely humorless as well. Sad clown. The bottom
line with books like Dead Souls is that too much of what’s
inside fails to break the mold. The comic book industry has
experienced a glut of sub-par, similar-looking, independently
produced vampire comic books since the mid-1990s, and Dead
Souls does little to separate itself from the pack. Dracula twists
at his mustache menacingly and Erzsebet Bathory walks
around in a tank top for most of the story. I also feel this need
to provide fair warning: this book oozes “goth” from page 1.
If you somehow make your way to the ending, there’s a delightful advertisement for something called a
“Romanti-Goth Coloring Book.” There’s also an additional interview with someone named Tony Thorne
wedged into the back of Dead Souls #2, which reads slightly better than the interview with Cradle of Filth
singer dude Dani Filth, which was wedged into the back of issue #1. Bottom line: If you‘re looking for a fresh
take on Dracula‘s mythology, check out Dynamite Comics’ current series, The Complete Dracula, which runs
through September, or dig up some collections of 1970s classics like Eerie and Tomb of Dracula. They‘re all pulp
and no pretense, guaranteed. —Brett Schwaner
Dead Souls #2 is available now at comic shops in New Orleans. For more info, go to seraphemera.org.
ANTI-NEWS
LEARNING THE GEOGRAPHY OF ROBOTS
T
he debut volume of Darin Acosta’s Geography
of Robots is a fictitious re-imagining of southern
Louisiana in a grim, post-industrial future.
While this homegrown cautionary tale of organic
communalism versus corporate greed shows flickers
of potential, Geography of Robots reads more like an
unrefined rough draft than a polished narrative about
anti-corporatism and human perseverance. The premise
of Geography of Robots goes something like this: In the
not-too-distant-future, most of southeast Louisiana has
fallen into a state of post-industrial decay. North of
Lake Pontchartrain lies a rural housing co-op populated
by squatters whose land stands in the way of a shady
government project that eventually involves robots. The
story takes place in towns like Metairie, Norco, and St.
Tammany, which would typically be a welcome change
of pace (from, say, the French Quarter) except for the
fact that Acosta assigns very little character to any of
these places in his work. From page one, descriptions
of hotels in Metairie, highways in Mandeville, ferries
to Algiers, and buildings in the CBD are given little to
no attention to detail, other than passing references to
pine trees and specific highway numbers. If Geography
of Robots were a minimalist work, I could forgive the fleeting characterizations of Norco, but the story
alternately slogs and bounds its way through a quagmire of uneven pacing. There are also pervasive
issues with the story’s use of language from the get-go. Acosta paints a dry portrait of his cast of
characters and their surroundings, offering unevenly-dispersed bits of descriptive information which
neither excites nor inspires the reader, often leading one to wonder if Acosta himself was bored with
the story as he put it to paper. In either case, the end result is a tepid tone which leaves the reader feeling
blasé and indifferent. There are also points in Geography wherein I felt that I was reading a serialized
adaptation of a sullen, humorless leftist pamphlet instead of a socially-relevant work of science fiction.
There’s nothing particularly novel about underdeveloped characters coming into conflict with stockpile
nameless/faceless corporations. After giving Geography of Robots two re-reads, it still feels like I’ve read
a half-finished piece of literature. With some editorial insight and a couple of re-writes, Geography of
Robots could be developed into an engaging piece of fiction. As it stands now, the story comes across
as a hollow collection of disorganized ultra-leftist fantasy. —Brett Schwaner
MICK BARR: THE WRECKING CREW
M
ick Barr, of Ocrilim, Octis and Orthrelm, is a superhuman one-man wrecking crew on the guitar.
Shred Earthship indeed, his style, akin to no other on the scene right now, pulverizes just as it
entrances. Based on lightning quick minimalist repetition, his piercing lines fall nothing short of Zeusian
in their technicality, which in turn creates an overall nerve-racking brain-melt of a listen, the likes of
which no other guitarist this side of his opposing Sunn O))) has proven capable of accomplishing in
recent years. Krallice, his most recent full band venture, released arguably (not really) the best black
metal album of the year in 2008 and are now set to open the stage for the Washingtonian Wolves in
the Throne Room, who are touring in support of their own most recent scorcher Black Cascade. Just as
“solar winds breed laceration,” might I be present to help “assemble the sacrifice and drip the offering
through the cracks in the earth.” Fuck, this show is going to be one to remember. —Dan Mitchell
7
antigravitymagazine.com_
ANTI-NEWS
FACE FIRST, BLACKBELT & LEFTOVER CRACK HIGHLIGHT NOLA’S JUNE LINEUP
Face First + Fat Stupid Ugly People + Grits Picnic + more
Sunday 6/14, 1pm-8pm @ The Balcony Music Club
Black Belt + Meadow Flow + Neck Beard
Friday 6/19, 10pm @ The Banks Street Bar
The Balcony Music Club hosts an afternoon-long mini-festival on Sunday, June
14th, starring the likes of Face First, Fat Stupid Ugly People, and a whole slew
of others guaranteed to make your eyes pop out of their sockets and disintegrate
to smoldering ash. Face First plays thrash/hardcore like your grandma did back
in the 1980s, when she was rocking the fuck out to Black Flag and Poison Idea.
Fat Stupid Ugly People are a bunch of hardcore goons who will smash your face
and then maybe take you out for a nice gelato. Upstanding gents, all around. This
show, which begins in the early afternoon and goes until the cows come home,
will likely be one of the more horrific events of your summer. Bring suntan lotion
and a folding chair (and maybe an inflatable palm tree). —Brett Schwaner
If you haven’t had a chance to check out Black Belt yet (and shame on you if you haven’t, especially
after we featured them on our cover a few months back), this is your chance, friend. Black Belt will be
headlining a free performance at Mid-City’s finest music venue, the Banks Street Bar, with a little help
from their instrumental friends in Meadow Flow and Neck Beard. —Brett Schwaner
Leftover Crack + The Casualties
Sunday 6/21 @ The Dragon’s Den
myspace.com/leftovercrackofficial
Leftover Crack and The Casualties are two bands who have a somewhat spotty record of playing (or
not playing) shows in New Orleans. A scheduled Casualties show just outside of the French Quarter
was smashed by the state in late 2003, thanks to the polite and courteous intervention of the N.O.P.D.
A year later, Leftover Crack canceled the remainder of their fall tour a night before their scheduled
New Orleans tour stop due
to the sudden death of their
touring drummer. Both
groups were formed in the
1990s, with Leftover Crack
basically picking up the
Satanic drunk/punk/ska
theme of their predecessor,
Choking
Victim.
The
Casualties picked it up a
few years earlier, inspired
by the raw, early sound
of groups like Discharge
and The Exploited. The
Casualties last released the
full length album Under
Attack in 2006. Leftover
Crack’s most recent release
was a 2007 split with Citizen
Fish. Opening bands TBA.
—Brett Schwaner
THE PRODIGAL SON RETURNS:
PAUL CAPORINO’S MOTO COMES
HOME FOR MORE ABUSE
N
o wonder it’s been
a while since Paul
Caporino has visited his
old stomping grounds of New
Orleans: one of the last times he
played here, it was to a bunch
of skinheads who spent most
of their time trying to tap a keg
of beer outside of The Dixie
Taverne (RIP). But Caporino is
more likely to write a song about
it then hold a grudge. As the man
behind the long-running Masters
of the Obvious (MOTO, for
short), he has written hundreds
of songs about the minutia of a
shattered American existence.
Anything is fair game, from
cataloguing the various times
he’s puked to simply “Flicking
you off with every finger on my
hand,” a track from his most
recent album, Raw Power. It’s
almost as if Caporino is the last
remaining Ramone, somehow
separated at birth from the guys
from Queens and left to wander between New Orleans and Chicago. Seeing as how
the band, in some incarnation, has been around since 1981, the scenario is not all that
improbable. —Dan Fox; Photo by Gary LoVerde
MOTO plays The Circle bar on Tuesday, July 2nd with the Midnight Creeps. For more
info on MOTO, go to myspace.com/moto.
8_antigravity: your new orleans music and culture alternative
JOIN US FOR OUR 5TH ANNIVERSARY
PARTY AT 6PM ON THURSDAY, JUNE 18TH
@ TWISTED HAIR SALON (4824 PRYTANIA)! WE’LL BE CELEBRATING OUR BIRTHDAY ALONGSIDE TWISTED AND THE
NEW ORLEANS CRAFT MAFIA!
COLUMNS
ADVICE
GUIDANCE
COUNSELING
this month’s trusted advisors: robb roemershauser
IN THE FUTURE, IT’S JUST YOU AND ROBB
I
t ain’t a show if Robb Roemershauser
isn’t there. A longtime staple of the
punk and hardcore scene in New
Orleans, Robb is a champion of the
Aboveground Zine Library at the Iron
Rail infoshop and the editor and publisher
of the long-running-til-killed-by-Katrina
Quickdummies fanzine. Globetrotter and
friend to the stars (we hear he parties
with Sebastian Bach whenever he breezes
through town), Robb is the perfect person
to counsel this month’s band of brooders.
(He also competes with fellow punqster
Eric Martinez for most inventive use of
spelling and grammar. It’s how we’ll all
be writing in the future, so who are we
to edit it?)
Dear AG,
I think my girlfriend gave me genital herpes.
I just had a disgusting red thing pop up on
my penis and I can’t think of another way I’d
have gotten it. It’s been years since I’ve been with anybody else, and I think everything’s going okay
with my girl—I don’t want to seem like I’m accusing her of anything, but what do I do?
Okay, then what can I do to help you out with that? If you want the herpes to be remove?
Try getting your lovely girlfriend to suck up the herpes from a straw, instead of your hallow
semenless hideous looking penis. I have never tried it before, since I don’t have genital herpes/
warts. Scientifically I don’t know of any medical research to back up this claim. It never hurts
to try and YOU might be the first to eradicate genital herpes by trying this alternative medical
method. I am assuming you are seeking out personal revenge from making this a public issue
about your cock and her maybe thinking your not the love of her life anymore. If I ever got
genital herpes then I would rip my scrotum off my crouch and hid in a cave in ashamed from
what I got, like an incurable plague. You are a dumb bollock and to avoid it all together then
you should have worn a vegan condom you cheap soul. I hope that little excitement in your
life was worth it? Suggestion reading. Somebody last week, just gave me copy of a book he
put out that would help rid yourself of the misery and the worthless dick you now have. Max
Tilmann: Já não há maçãs no paraíso. Stroke this, you dick!
Dear AG,
Do people really write in with these questions or do you just make them up yourselves?
I don’t know and could hardly care. Do you care to know the truth? Mother earth has more
things to worry about, then if somebody wrote in these questions then a reader. Antigravity
has readers, then that’s flashing news to me. Whoever wrote in with these questions are to
damn lazy to spell out Antigravity, since it’s one single word and not two words.
Dear AG,
I’ve got a neighbor who won’t shut the hell up about Katrina. Every time I see this guy (at least three or
four times per week) he somehow crowbars “how bad” he’s had it since the hurricane—and we didn’t
even flood in our neighborhood. It’s not like I’m hanging out with the guy, I just happen into him while
walking to my car or carrying in groceries. How can I tell him I plain of’ sick of rehashing the past?
Those who controls the past, controls the future. The best complaint you have is that? You
want me to tell you some fuzzy happy uplifting inspiring story to get your bell ringing about
how New Orleans hasn’t turn into a utopia since Katrina, impart of the contribution of
Brandy Darby? I am more enrage by the fact that the national mailing address for ACORN
is 1024 Elysian Fields and it’s obvious looks like a war torn zone there. Millions upon
millions of dollars goes through that building and hardly none of it is being use to rebuild
New Orleans or other cities housing problems. Looks like a pyramid scheme to me like
capitalism is. The neighborhood suffers while thefts prosper among the weak. I am far from
being a supporter of ACORN as they might do some amazing work that my uneducated
self is unaware of. My mind-set last month was at a protest trying to shutdown the missel
release factory in Brighton, while wearing blood red. Remember after Katrina it look like
missel’s were drop on the city? If you lived in New Orleans, 4 years ago? You want to hear
my story, if you care to know it? I used to have 3 bedrooms before Katrina and I still live in
a no bedroom apartment this very day. Consider yourself lucky since you probably live in a
house and probably aren’t suffering. Cry for me baby, cry louder, because no one can hear
your complaints about something you should SHUT THE F*%$ UP, ABOUT IT!
Take it Easy, Robb Roemershauser
PS: I wouldn’t hangout with you if you were the last remaining soul on earth.
10_antigravity: your new orleans music and culture alternative
COLUMNS
THE GOODS
by miss malaprop
FASHION
mallory@antigravitymagazine.com
METAL MAVEN
L
ocal jewelry designer Kami Galeana is relatively new to the jewelry trade, but the
art of metalworking runs deep in her blood. A Houma native of mixed Cajun and
Guatemalan descent, Kami was raised by parents who are, as she puts it, “hardcore
metal workers.” (One is a machinist, and the other is a welder.) After high school, Kami
moved to New Orleans to attend University of New Orleans, where she’s studied as a
candidate in the Master of Fine Arts program with a focus in painting and sculpture. Even
though she has only been designing jewelry for the last few years, it seems an obvious
and natural progression for her, as many of her pieces are bold and geometric with an air
of industrial strength, while at the same time classic and feminine, combining pearls and
gemstones with handcrafted metals. Kami notes, “The foundations in art making have
helped to refine the rawness of metal working I received from my family.” I recently caught
up with her to find out more about her background and inspirations.
How did you get started as a designer?
My specialty in college was painting, but
I found that I needed a break every once
in awhile from the tension of 2-D work,
and would gravitate toward sculpture.
Metalworking was part of that. Eventually I
found myself devoting more and more energy
into designing jewelry and thinking about
ways to incorporate 2-D elements into that
process. Generally speaking, I tend to enjoy
a raw aesthetic with refined qualities. I am
continually trying to adapt that idea into my
work.
What inspires your work?
I am very inspired by art. Currently I’m being
motivated by paintings by Francisco Goya and Caravaggio. I love the way they manipulated
the use of light against a heavy play of shadows. That is partly the reason why my current
series is called The Shadow Collection.
How has living in south Louisiana influenced your work?
Nearly every place you go in South Louisiana can become a source of inspiration. It has
certainly shaped some of my ideas, especially the pieces in my Shadow Collection. I guess
there’s something of the outlaw aesthetic tucked into the Deep South, especially within New
Orleans. I certainly enjoy creating work that is rough around the edges but then transforms
into something shiny, elegant and beautiful.
Any favorite local artists or designers?
I love Saturday farmer’s markets in the warehouse district. I also adore the fantastic
art markets, like Freret Street and, of course, the Bywater. I have a few favorite jewelry
designers, Gogo Borgerding is one of them and Maria Fomich is certainly another.
Who are your favorite mainstream designers?
I really love the boldness of Iradj Moini’s work. Stephen Dweck has some amazing one-ofa-kind pieces as well. I am also completely in love with Abrasha’s work.
What are your fashion & beauty must-haves?
A fashion must-have would certainly be a pair of fairly comfortable black three-to-four-inch
heels. They can be worn with nearly everything and add the perfect amount of refinement
and style. As for beauty, I definitely believe that a great tube of mascara does wonders. I
happen to adore Fibre Rich Lash by M.A.C.
What advice would you give to aspiring designers?
Trust your instincts. If you feel that a piece doesn’t work, or that the look you were going
for doesn’t quite fit the bill, don’t try to force yourself to like it. It’s easier to get behind and
support work that you are passionate about than to try to sell a collection that you feel is not
your best work. Your audience will pick up on a true enthusiasm and will be more willing
to support you.
Where can people find your work?
My work can be found at my website, kgaleana.com. Some of the designs from my website
and from Etsy (galeana.etsy.com) can be purchased at Magazine Metals (2036 Magazine
Street). There are even a few pieces that are exclusively being sold at that location. In
particular, a brand new line of copper cuffs.
THE 3RD ANNUAL WORN AGAIN FASHION SHOW
The 3rd annual Worn Again fashion show is right around the corner, and it’s not too late
to get in on the recycled creativity. A little birdie told me that late applications are still
being accepted, so if you want to participate as a designer, contact Elizabeth Underwood at
recycle4thearts@gmail.com or go to myspace.com/wornagainfashionshow for more info.
Don’t forget to mark your calendars and check out the main event on Saturday July 18th
at The Howlin’ Wolf!
11
antigravitymagazine.com_
COLUMNS
MEDICINE
DR. FEELGOOD
by nancy kang, m.d.
nancy@antigravitymagazine.com
BUTT OUT!
W
hat do Carl Wilson,
Roger Miller, Nat King
Cole, Duke Ellington and
George Harrison have in common?
I am sure you guessed it. These
musicians all died of lung cancer
related to cigarette smoking.
LUNG CANCER
Lung cancer is the number one cause
of cancer deaths in both men and
women in the U.S. and worldwide.
The American Cancer Society
estimates that 215,020 new cases of
lung cancer in the U.S. will be diagnosed and 161,840 deaths due to lung cancer will occur each year.
One out of every fourteen people in the U.S. will be diagnosed with lung cancer. Lung cancer has
surpassed breast cancer as the leading cause of cancer death in women.
90% of lung cancers arise as a result of tobacco use. The risk of lung cancer increases with the
number of cigarettes smoked over time. Doctors refer to this risk in terms of pack-years of smoking
history (the number of packs of cigarettes smoked per day multiplied by the number of years smoked).
For example, a person who has smoked two packs of cigarettes per day for ten years has a twentypack-year smoking history.
Passive smoking, also known as second hand smoke, is the inhalation of tobacco smoke from others.
It is also a risk factor for the development of lung cancer. Nonsmokers who reside with a smoker have
a 24% increase in risk for developing lung cancer when compared with other nonsmokers. 3,000 lung
cancer deaths each year in the U.S. are attributable to second-hand smoke.
Let’s review: Cigarette smoking is the principal risk factor for development of lung cancer. The
general prognosis (outcome) of lung cancer is poor. The overall survival rate is about 15% at five years.
Smoking cessation can prevent the development of lung cancer.
I REALLY WANT TO QUIT!
Let’s just state the obvious: smoking is bad! It gives you cancer. It makes you look older. It makes
your teeth yellow. It makes your breath stink. It is expensive. It makes you more susceptible to viral
and bacterial infections. It makes you get all kinds of smoking-related medical problems like heart
attacks and emphysema. According to the American Heart Association, cigarette smoking is the
most important preventable cause of premature death in the United States. It accounts for more than
440,000 of the more than 2.4 million annual deaths.
Our fair state has a higher smoking rate than the national average. As smoking rates go down
throughout the country, they are not dropping as rapidly here. In Louisiana, 22.5% of adults are
smokers as compared to the national average of 19.3%
Light 100’s, extra wides, standard Reds, or those cigs deceivingly billed as more American or more
Spiritual: bad, bad, bad. But still we smoke. We smoke because cigarettes contain a highly addictive
drug—nicotine. But quitting is possible.
METHODS OF SMOKING CESSATION:
1. Cold turkey (no outside help). About 90% of people who try to quit smoking do it without other
support—no therapy, nicotine patches or medicine. Although many people try to quit this way, it
is not the most effective and successful method. Only about 10% of people who try to quit this way
succeed on their first try.
2. Behavioral therapy. With behavioral therapy, a therapist helps you find the most effective way
to quit. The therapist will help come up with ways to get through cravings and provide emotional
support.
3. Nicotine replacement therapy. Nicotine gum, patches, inhalers and lozenges. This therapy works
by giving you nicotine without you having to smoke. You are much more likely quit smoking if you
use nicotine replacement therapy.
4. Medicine. Some drugs more commonly used for depression and anxiety such as Zyban (Wellbutrin)
have been shown to help people quit smoking. These are available by prescription only.
5. Combination treatments. Using a combination of treatment methods can increase your chances of
quitting. For example, nicotine patch combined with prescription medicine, or behavior therapy and
nicotine gum. Support of friends, family and co-workers has also been shown to help.
6. Lasers? Laser treatments have been advertised around town as the easy miracle cure to get you to
quit. But if it sounds too easy to be true, it probably is. Lasers have not been proved to help you stop
smoking any more than a placebo. I advise that you don’t waste your time or money.
Rules for Quitting Smoking
1. Know your triggers and avoid them. Stay away from situations that normally make you feel like
smoking, such as bars. Avoid these triggers especially during the first three months. This is when you
are most likely to relapse.
2. The first few days are the hardest. You will probably feel irritable, depressed, slow and tired. Once
you get past those first days, you will begin to feel normal (but still have cravings).
3. Don’t give in to your cravings. Each day you can avoid cigarettes your chances of quitting
successfully go up.
4. Start a new pastime with friends who don’t smoke. This can increase your chances of quitting
smoking.
If you try to stop smoking and can’t manage to keep clean, try again. Studies show that it takes most
people several attempts before they quit for good. Happy Smoke-free summer. Let’s hang out at Café
Rose Nicaud and drink chai and chew nicotine gum. Let’s start a Jenga club. Let’s go to Jazzland and
play “Hide the Nicotine Patch.” Let’s chop off our little fingers if we ever smoke again.
Next month: Eyelash Farming and other medical beauty enhancements!
12_antigravity: your new orleans music and culture alternative
COLUMNS
LOCAL MUSIC
SLINGSHOTS, ANYONE?
by derek zimmer derek@antigravitymagazine.com
ANARCHY IN THE V.I.P.
“O
ne Eyed Jacks? On Lundi Gras?!” those I’d let in on my scheme exclaimed.
“You won’t get in!” My plan—showing up outside the venue with a bundle
of literature expecting to get in for free—did seem a bit shaky. But then
again, the insistence of naysayers was something I hardly paid much heed to—in the short
list of things to which I actually paid anything. And honestly, could Andrew WK play a
show in the rotten core of New Orleans, in the midst of Mardi Gras—the cancer itself—
without me trying to gatecrash it?!
Earlier that day my rockabilly band The Straight Shooters opened for Ghost Mice at
none other than the Iron Rail Book Collective, the establishment to which I have sacrificed
my soul and must wander restless many a night on the store’s punk rock graveyard shift.
I’d stressed about playing to such a large number of people, yet considering the Plan-ItX duo was on the bill, the turnout of kids didn’t rank as high as expected. Not as many,
at least, by the precedent Kimya Dawson set here a year ago: a mound of bodies piled
in every crevice of the ARK, holding
hands and swooning to sweet acoustic
songs in the spring twilight. During our
set I spoke about my experience at the
Krewe of Eris parade the night before.
A hundred-plus costumed guttersnipes
had taken to the street on Press and led
their annual un-permitted parade all the
way through the Bywater (stopping for
an interim, of course, at the local bar)
and into the Quarter. Tate, Renee and I
followed the throngs of freaks and bikecart floats for what seemed like miles
all the way to Jackson Square, where
NOPD finally greeted and redirected us.
After they’d herded us off Decatur, the
police, as usual, grew violent and began
attacking individuals. Although a few of
our numbers went so far as to challenge
the legions of the State, with one brave
soul pummeling a squad car windshield
with a skateboard and another standing
in front of an advancing cop car in the
street, the cops were met with little
resistance. I shared with the audience at the show the next evening my disappointment
at the squandered opportunity of not taking our disorderly celebration a step further and
challenging our oppressors, choosing instead to dissolve into the decadence of Mardi Gras.
What’s going to make these New Orleans derelicts finally fight back? Should we, as the
imbecilic straightedge kids tell us, “bring back prohibition?” Institute harsh vagrancy laws
for busking on street corners? Ban the tall bikes? Gentrify the squats? Let me state here I am
all for these extreme measures—anything to bring about the long-awaited ethnic cleansing
of the Crust population of New Orleans... I mean, make the city more “politically active.”
Around nine that evening, long after Ghost Mice ceased their serenading and the punx
pedaled into another weary night of carousing at The John, I loaded my basket with books
from the Rail and set out across the treacherous reaches chartered the night before at Eris—
through the dense multitude of drunken pedestrians and motorists along Decatur. This is not
the easiest of tasks, I assure you: riding my rickety bike equates in effort to just walking all the
way to my destination but simply takes less time. It’s just plain dangerous, too! The day of the
Ghost Mice show my brakes had gone out on Canal Street and, like Sandra Bullock in her
’90s hit film Speed, I’d had to swerve perilously through human roadblocks all the way down
Rampart without halting! Lucky for me One Eyed Jacks wasn’t all that far, so if my plot was
foiled it wouldn’t be too great a hassle. After all, there was no way I was paying. Nope. No
way. Twenty dollars? I could see at least twelve punk bands for that much!
Arriving at the club, I straightened up my distro and made sure my real important clipboard
was perched in clear sight right on top. Seriously, never underestimate the persuasive power
of a clipboard! The line for the show wound all the way to Bourbon Street, and multiple
doormen stood vigilant over the patrons. Getting in would be tough. Timing would need to
be just right and I would need to exude just the right amount of professionalism to offset the
reality: of one ten-year-old boy walking off the raging streets on Lundi Gras into a bar show
without paying the cover! I perked myself up, circumvented the line and bustled toward
the entrance. The large man stamping hands seemed like a force not to be reckoned with,
and as I sauntered on past him—my memory becomes hazy at this point—he looked down
warily from his perch at me with my meager crate. And smiled. “Welcome back,” he said.
What’s going on?!
Maybe I’d totally misjudged this 18+ club, maybe One Eyed Jacks was on our side! For not
only did I get into this exclusive concert event no questions asked, but once inside security
even went so far as to accommodate me with a table and chair in my own corner! See if
you get that with a purchased ticket! “If you need some more light, we can rig something
up,” the helpful bouncer told me as I spread out my wares on the table in the corner. Golly.
After so many nights fighting my way into House of Blues, finally I was getting the respect
I deserved from the New Orleans bar scene! All for the sake of propagating my anarchist
propaganda! This sort of arrangement was one I could surely get behind. Yes, a little more
light on the left side, please. Right there. I’ll go ahead and take a spritzer while you’re at it...
Once situated, a disgruntled drunk soon approached my VIP table: not often an ideal
interaction, but in this context welcome nonetheless. “The Iron Rail?” he slurred. “That’s
that building with all the fuckin’ rats runnin’ around?!”
Uhhh...? If by “rats” you mean human street urchins...
“Yeah,” he assured himself. “This is all that left-wing bullshit, huh?” We talked about
the politics of the info shop and, in the end, he accepted a flyer and agreed to stop in
sometime. Iron Rail—Salesmyn for the Rev’!
Another character strolled up not too much later. He looked intently at the books on
the table. Usually I try to cater my selection to the specific show. If hipster-weenies like
Japanther are playing, for example, I might bring some Plan-It-X records, Found magazines,
art books, generous amounts of cocaine, etc. Metal shows usually warrant some fanzines,
black metal selections whose names I can’t read or pronounce, maybe an obscure collection
of rocks. A ska show: some coloring books, a few simple crossword puzzles and any shiny
objects. Gotta reel ‘em in, you know? The
gentleman in front of me was struggling
to show me something on his forearm. He
went to great lengths tugging at his sleeve
before realizing he needed to remove his
jacket. He set down his beer on the table
(a constant pet peeve of mine), pulled off
the jacket and yanked the sleeve of his
undershirt up to his elbow in order to
display his armband with a circled “A”
on it! “Wow, cool!” I said.
“I’m all about anarchy!” he told me.
Well, duh! I could totally tell, comrade,
that you too wished to overthrow the
patriarchal capitalist machine as soon
as I saw your Anarchy ® sweatband!
“I wanna buy some books but I don’t
know if I have enough money. Let me
see how much I have after I get some
drinks!” Typical. Even tabling for a
radical bookstore I must occasionally
compromise some of my ideals. As
anarchists intrinsically opposed to the
notion of “selling things,” we too are
forced into this arrangement, cornered into a cycle of marketing “revolutionary ideas”
through consumer products. So, in this situation my volunteer standby would be, “Well,
you could pick up our ‘Brew Yer Own Beer’ zine, only one dollar!” Or I could just forgo
“customer” relations and deliver my succinct, derisive response: Stop drinking, you mindless
slave!
Well, the moment I’d waited all night for finally arrived: Andrew WK took the stage! He
stormed out in his dirty white shirt/pants combo, with keyboard and full entourage. “This
is my wife, Cherie!” he yelled, motioning to a lady in sweatpants rocking out next to him.
The boozed up spectators went wild. My friend Emily, who in the ensuing chaos I didn’t
realize was in attendance, told me later that she left the show distraught because a group
of heybrah frat boys had punched and kicked her continuously throughout the set. Way to
go, New Orleans!
But like a ruler observing my minions from afar, I stood oblivious to the pain and
suffering. From my high stool, I was Caesar and the showgoers my gladiators. I’m not
usually one to stand at the back—being a little guy, I do prefer to go up front. But standing
on my stool I was for the first time ever the tallest one in the room, and I soaked it all in. It
was sort of like I was reviving the famous Stoop Night—except now I could make fun of
the idiots from inside the club! Who’s the puppet master of New Orleans now, Funck?! That’s
right—it’s me! Out with the old, in with the new. Just like another yearly order of Slingshot
organizers. Eventually, when Andrew WK played the only two songs I knew, I was taken
back to a simpler time in the suburbs of Chalmette, where—before I’d discovered DIY
punk—my childhood friends and I shot home videos of ourselves setting off firecrackers in
the palms of our hands and busting fluorescent light bulbs over each others’ heads! Nothing
like a trip down memory lane...
Andrew WK did not, it’s true, incite the masses to rise up and overthrow our masters, or
lead an unauthorized march à la Zack de la Rocha from the venue to police headquarters.
But just as with Krewe or Eris, I sensed the real potential of full-on insurrection tangible
in the air—like the smoke choking me at every show at Saturn Bar. Or like the owner of
Saturn Bar stopping the set and cursing out the crustlords at all of Matt Russel’s shows.
And as I watched the showgoers neutralize their potential with alcohol and misdirect their
rage on one other, I cultivated a silent hope that maybe, just maybe, we could subvert this
and all events, switch our roles from spectators to active participants and, above all, party
hard... TO THE STREETS!
(In addition, Quintron & Miss Pussycat headlined this show. I watched one song but
decided to split early so I could head back to the shop, re-shelve books, and make it home
before 3am. I feel inclined, because this is sort of a show column, to plug the one this
combo will be playing at the scummy Nowe Miasto warehouse on June 5th with Cave,
C-Section 8, and house band Fisher Cat. It should start at 6pm and end before 10pm, so
come early!)
13
antigravitymagazine.com_
FEATURE
MUSIC
KEEPIN’ UP WITH:
MC ODOMS
interview by ballzack intro by leo mcgovern
F
photos by nicole schmitt
or another guy from the West Bank, MC
Odoms is well-traveled in New Orleans
entertainment circles. Between backing
up fellow West Bank sensation Ballzack,
providing the voice of the Internet’s preeminent
puppet, Lil’ Doogie, and unleashing the recent
video for “Keeping Up With The Jetsons” on the
YouTubes of the world (with well over 8,000 hits
and counting), one would think Odoms wouldn’t
have time to balance a spreadsheet at his day job
as an accountant, much less record an album,
yet on June 6th at One Eyed Jacks he’s going
to release his first full-length solo record, Let Me
Atom. We use “solo” in the loosest sense, because
where Odoms goes, Ballzack (and a DJ that just
pushes a button) is sure to be too, and with that
in mind we at ANTIGRAVITY decided to set
up the ultimate West Bank tête-à-tête between
the dynamic duo of Gretna, and here’s what they
produced.
14_antigravity: your new orleans music and culture alternative
FEATURE
MUSIC
BALLZACK: Let Me Atom is your first album. Have you
put out anything before?
MC ODOMS: Nothing at all. This will be my first ever
album release. The only other thing I ever made was a demo
produced by Rami Sharkey in, like, 1999. Don’t ask him to
let you hear it!
Has the “Jetsons” video help spread the word on
Odoms?
Why, yes it has. It was easy to start promoting my album
with a product that people could watch. So whenever I told
anybody about the new album, I could just say, “Go watch
the video at odomsyeah.com.” Yep, that was a plug.
What kind of music did you listen to growing up?
I had seven brothers and sisters, and they all listened to
everything you can imagine in the ’80s. One day I would
listen to Metallica, the next day Prince, then I would hear
Ice-T, and then Sheena Easton the next day. I didn’t really
get into anything until I heard “Where They At” by T.T.
Tucker and DJ Irv. After that it was mainly New Orleans
rap.
I heard you worked with Ballzack on Let Me Atom. What
did he contribute?
Man, he was great to work with! I lived with him while
I did most of the work on this album, and he’d be in his
bedroom across the hall while I was working on a beat. I’d
holla at him and he’d come over in his little boxer shorts
and play something on the keyboard that would be perfect.
He produced a good bit of the album, and even has a few
verses on there.
When did you embark on your career as a rapper?
We would write our own bounce chants to “Bounce for the
Juvenile” back around ’93-’94. That was the first writing I
did. I really started in high school—I was in the John Ehret
talent contest.
Is Doogie on the album?
Doogie was on sabbatical this entire semester and could not
be reached. I think he was in the Phillipines working on the
highly anticipated Doogie movie.
Did you ever own Mr. Ivan, Drive By in a
Hockey Mask?
Yes, it was one of the early Cash Money
releases, before The Hot Boys blew up. It
was actually a really good album. It was
probably the scariest-looking album cover
I’ve ever seen—a dude in a convertible
with a hockey mask and a gun.
Give us one Sancho story.
Oh, No. One day, I was hanging out with some friends
and he came outside with a Michelob, a mug, and an
egg. He cracked the raw egg in the mug, then poured the
Michelob into it and downed the whole thing. He asked
us if we knew what that did, then he said, “If you feel
my leg, you’d feel my jammy got bigger.” I think I was
thirteen at the time.
The release show for Let Me Atom is on June 6th. You
nervous and shit?
Not nervous, just shit. Yeah, I’m nervous—it will be the
first time I’m onstage by myself, besides when we’d have
technical difficulties at the old Ballzack shows. I’ll be all
right the night of the show, though, because of my training.
I’ve been punching meat and running up and down the
stairs at West Jeff Stadium.
So, Mike Kennedy directed the video for “Keeping Up
With The Jetsons.” What was it like working with that
dude?
Mike is a genius. Straight up. He knows how to get stuff
done or he knows the people to get it done. He directed
Lil Doogie’s “Lil One” and also Ballzack’s “Rainbow in
Marrero.” After working with him on those, it was really
easy to relax and trust everything he was doing. He’s
efficient as the fuck, too—I think the whole “Jetsons” video
took two days of actual filming.
You like cats?
Yes, I actually have three of the lil fur mouths right now.
Omar, Doug, and Jeffrey. They are some cool cats.
Do you feel like girlfriends inhibit the creative process?
A little bit, because you don’t have the time you have when
you are single. It’s all about give and take. You take time
making music, or whatever other creative projects, then
you give a little to let her know you’re still around. If you
make her mad enough, then she’ll dump you, but then you’ll
probably make the best album you could ever dream of.
What you doing today?
I’m day-jobbing it, trying to balance Excel spreadsheets and
shit.
You working on any new projects?
Right now I am working on an EP that
will come out later this year. I am also
working with Ballzack on some new stuff
that we’re going to sell on cassette only at
Domino Record Shack. So, like ten days
of the week I am recording somewhere.
Either at J’s house, your house on the fourtrack, or just on the iPhone.
You can spare us the gritty details, but
what happened with your mom and Burt
Reynolds?
My mom dated Burt Reynolds while he
was filming Deliverance in Atlanta. I’d
like to think of it as a great love story, but
I think they only had one date. It really
makes me feel good because of how much
I love Deliverance. Women would’ve gone
crazy for Ned Beatty back then, but she
got Burt. She must’ve been working with
something.
Tell the people about Sancho.
Sancho is the nickname my dad gave
himself. He would come home and tell the
most ridiculous jokes ever heard and then
yell, “In Mexico they call me Sancho!” before slamming the
door. I finally asked him what that meant and he told me,
“Sancho is Spanish for Jody, and Jody is the guy who visits
your old lady when you go to work.”
He let me hear really cool beat that fit this crazy chorus I
couldn’t get out of my head, so we recorded the vocals for
the song “Human is a Smart Thing.” It became a mega-hit
in Argentina so we decided to work together a little more.
He produced three songs on the album.
Didn’t you tell me you tried doing
something with another label when you
were younger? Something kind of scary?
Yeah, I wanted to rap and met some
people I should not have been working
with. I ended up on Valence and Magnolia
a couple of times, at a studio where
there was no running water and the only
electricity in the house was in the studio.
They told me to stay off the front porch
because the block was too hot at that
moment. Luckily, I found that I could be
a rapper without relying on a local record
label and never went back.
Do you think people will hear an Odoms song and think
it’s a Doogie song?
Probably, since our voices aren’t that much different. I’m
not nearly as brash or confident. Actually, Doogie says he
doesn’t really like my album because it’s not hard enough.
Remember when we evacuated for Katrina, and you said
“Well, wherever I go there better be a river so I can live
on the West Bank?”
Isn’t that everybody’s dream? To live in a city with a nice
river, and be on the west side of that river? We should a
made a website called West Banksomewhere.com.
You and I spend a lot of time glorifying the West Bank,
but let’s talk about some shit we don’t like about it...
It’s way too fucking busy now. My parents live on the West
Bank and it takes me forty-five minutes to get to their house.
There is nothing but strip malls filled with shitty clothing
stores. Of course, you have a few gems here and there, but
that only makes it worth visiting. I will never live there
again.
I’m just gonna come out and say it: “I don’t live there any
more.” Call me a fucking poseur, I don’t care. When I’m
not in France recording, I might pass through.
I haven’t lived on the West Bank in a while, myself—I’m
an Uptowner now. I guess this is our keep it real moment,
huh?
I heard you worked with J. Yuenger on this album as
well?
We worked with J on the Ballzack album Yeah Indeed and
you, him, and me spent a lot of time chillin’ in the studio.
Tell me about the influence the movie
Baller Blocking had on us/you.
I think we have watched it once a week ever since we
bought it. There are certain words that we can’t even say
around each other because it becomes an all out Baller
Blocking quote fest. That movie turned me into a man, and
I learned that you should never trust a cop named Curly
Head.
There aren’t any bounce-like songs on the album, but
you got “dance dance you bitch.” I love that song. Talk
’bout...
I love bounce music but i figured that we already satisfied
our urge to make a bounce song. I also wanted to do
something a little different with my album. I really wanted
to make this an Odoms album, not one of Ballzack’s friend’s
album. “Dance Dance” was a really fun song to make and
very different than anything else on the album. It’s kind of
like a mean dance song.
What kinda songs they gonna play when they let the
giraffes out?
Serge Gainsbourg, some stuff with moogs, and the 8th Street
Kidz greatest hits.
You’re stranded on a desert island—Lisa Bustamante or
Angela Hill?
Lucy Bustamante, for sure! Angela Hill always looked like
a bird to me. But I’m not hating, Angela—you do your bird
thing!
MC Odoms releases Let Me Atom on Friday, June 6th at One
Eyed Jacks with One Man Machine, DJ Nate White and a
cameo by Ballzack. For more info, go to odomsyeah.com.
15
antigravitymagazine.com_
FEATURE
MUSIC
FULL OF FRESH AIR IS
THE PEEKERS
by dan mitchell
L
photos by jaime heiges
ife in the Air, released officially on March 24, 2009
by New Orleans’ own Park the Van Records, is
the debut full-length album from the Shreveport
six-piece known as The Peekers. Over the course
of Life’s thirteen tracks, The Peekers reveal themselves to
the listener unabashedly and openly, inviting all to partake
in their world, where love, music and friendship might just
be all you need. Life is a record whose often whimsical,
peppermint-infused pop songs possess such earnest joy that
one cannot help but be swept up in the air along with them.
The true selling point of their sound is the range of styles
and genres tackled and ultimately mastered; never resting
on their laurels, The Peekers rarely even sound like the
same band between tracks. But in their
case, this is a good thing—the price to
pay when you have six contributing,
capable musicians/vocalists in one
group. Opening with “Your Morning
Toast,” a brief introduction to, among
other things, vocalist John Martin’s
Brian Wilson-esque delivery, to the
rag-time call-and-response hoo-ha
of “Close My Eyes,” up through the
not-so-gently weeping guitar blues of
“Meet You in Produce,” and into the
signature-jumping sing-a-long one-two
of “Canoe Trip” and “Sweet Potatoes,”
it is Life in the Air’s unpredictability that
keeps it interesting throughout.
Michael Stephens, one of three
main contributing songwriters in the
band, along with John Martin and
Brittany Maddox, handles lead and
rhythm guitar duties along with John,
while Aubre Bauer, who also pitches
in on the songwriting, plays the
glockenspiel and provides leading as
well as backing vocals on the record.
The final two members, Jordan West,
a member of the first incarnation of
the group when it was a three-piece, as
well as Aaron Butler add in bass duties
and drumming, respectively. Recently,
ANTIGRAVITY had the opportunity
to sit down with Michael and Aubre,
one of the band’s two couples, at their
friend Big Frank’s home in Mid-City
to try to understand what went into
the crafting of a disc so lush, diverse,
exuberant and rewarding, and to see
what the future may hold for such a
young, talented group of musicians.
Our conversation, over the course
of a home-cooked meal, helped shed some light on the band,
including the dawning days of the group, the relationship
between band members—as it accounts greatly for their
multifarious sound—their experience signing with Park the
Van, playing SXSW, recording Life in the Air, and their plans
for this summer and beyond.
In understanding a group like The Peekers, it becomes
necessary to learn a bit about their collective history, both
personal and musical, because as their story unfolds so too
does their music start to make sense. According to Michael,
the roots of the band can be traced back to the early part of
this decade in Shreveport. “Originally, John, Jordan and I
were in a three-piece band for two or three years and we
were called The Big Positive. I played drums, very badly—
this kind of Ben Folds Five thing—and we played at this
place called the Jack Rabbit Lounge.” This early haunt of
the group “was where Aubre bartended” and where Michael
and Aubre first met.
Shortly after The Big Positive broke up, John and Brittany
met at a show in Shreveport, where Park the Van band The
Teeth were performing. Aubre describes the early days of
John and Brittany’s relationship as “a cartoon-like fantasy”
kind of romance. The duo would write songs together,
essentially from “the second they met,” until one day, over
at Michael’s parents house, John and Brittany shared some
of their recently crafted tunes with Michael and Aubre. The
deal was sealed; they started practicing just about every
day; “playing around, just the four of us, just playing love
songs.”
While Jordan was away at college, John, Michael,
Brittany and Aubre would play around town at open mic
nights, rehearsing their growing repertoire of love songs
until the bass player came back from school and rejoined
them. “We played as a four-piece and then as a five-piece
for a long time,” according to Michael. “Then we got this
drummer, and as soon as Aaron got in the band we played
for about three months—and then The Capitol Years came
through.” Those few months in 2006 began a whirlwind
of unexpected attention and opportunity, as The Capitol
Years, another Park the Van band, and eventually the label
itself fell for the charm and promise of The Peekers.
“Shai from The Capitol Years called Chris Watson (of
PTV) and said, ‘I’ve found your next band,’” Michael
said, and “about two or three weeks before the show” The
Peekers received a call inviting them to play at SXSW in
March of 2007.
They played at a small po-boy place in Austin, where they
received an invitation to play at the Park the Van showcase
later that night. After the show, The Peekers were asked to
16_antigravity: your new orleans music and culture alternative
join the label and were presented a deal that would keep
them signed for one EP and two full-length albums.
As they already had dozens of songs in their catalogue,
The Peekers hit the studio and recorded their debut EP,
Cheer 4. Then, later in 2007, Park the Van set up the band in
Athens, Ohio, where they lived for a month while recording
the record that would eventually be released as Life in the
Air.
Aubre describes Athens as “the best place to record an
album,” said plainly, especially after Michael added that the
town had “the cheapest booze [he’s] ever seen.” The band’s
youthly enthusiasm comes through when Aubre says, “We
drank a lot and had fun—that’s what you do when you’re
recording, you know.”
Their album was engineered and
recorded by students at Ohio University’s
music department, under the guidance
of producer Prof. Eddie Asheworth.
Eddie has worked with many bands over
the years, including Sublime, Pennywise
and Slightly Stoopid, and has recorded
a number of bands at Ohio University
as part of one of his audio engineering
courses. The fact that the band left the
mixing and producing up to Eddie and
crew in Athens accounts, in large part,
for the delayed release of Life in the
Air. A worthwhile wait, because the
album is simply gorgeous sonically—
each and every listen revealing hidden
or previously unnoticed textures and
nuances.
As far as what the future holds for The
Peekers, Michael said that the group
has well over a hundred songs ready
to go, as well as different renditions of
previously recorded tracks. “The thing
with the last album was that it was all
Pro Tools. Not to sound ungrateful,
because we had a lot of fun doing it that
way, but I want a grittier sound now.
We’re trying to get more DIY, do it at
home. We recorded about twenty songs
originally and that was our demo. John
lived in this house with about seven or
eight couches, no beds, no water, no
gas; the mic was hung from a nail in
the ceiling; it was fun doing that. That’s
what we want to do now, this summer.”
Returning to their roots to create their
new album seems like a logical step.
After all, it must be a bit strange to have
music as personal and sincere as theirs
in others’ hands.
Spending time with Aubre and Michael, two humble
and thoughtful southerners from Northwest Louisiana,
allowed a brief glimpse into the lives of one of the most
exciting young groups of musicians to be released this
year. At a time when so many groups have a vintage sound
reminiscent of times past, The Peekers’ music is firmly
post-modern—their sound recalls ’60s pop and mid-’90s
indie rock, but their interpretation remains new and fresh
all the while. Their music passes from heart to heart, their
“words are like potatoes flying through the windows,”
according to Aubre. The Peekers are one group you should
not pass up as, no matter your taste or bias, these guys and
gals are for real.
The Peekers play the Marigny Theatre (2240 St. Claude Ave.)
on Friday, June 12th with The High Strung and Generationals.
For more info on The Peekers, go to myspace.com/thepeekers.
FEATURE
MUSIC
YOUR
BAND
SUCKS.
O
by dan fox
ne nice thing about contributing to
ANTIGRAVITY is that my somewhat obscure
and generic title of “Associate Editor” leaves
the general public feeling free and comfortable
to dish out their honest and heartfelt criticisms of this
magazine to me when I have the occasion to hear it, say, for
example, if I end up at The Saint one night, speaking with
a very inebriated and free-wheeling Mike Jones. And the
general theme I’m getting from all of this feedback (and Mike
is not alone) is that AG doesn’t have enough teeth. We’ve
acted as cheerleader for the New Orleans music scene and
manned the front line of the culture, bringing you stories and
interviews with all kinds of bands, performers and artists, a
lot of whom we are providing the first glimpse of to you,
an eager and hungry public. Well, five years into it, I must
say that we are not getting the desired reaction and we only
have ourselves to blame. Well, hold on a minute. Borrowing
from Full Metal Jacket’s Sgt. Gunnery Hartman, I say this:
we have failed because you have failed. New Orleans: you
need to step your game up. We will continue to cover your
band or whatever as it takes its first steps into this world, but
the handholding will have to stop. Consider this the pepper
on the tit. So, for all of you out there reading and to those
of you who have spoken with me about your concerns and
ideas and especially to those of you in the various bands and
projects around town, I dedicate the following:
Your band sucks. Your drummer sucks. Your guitarist
is an asshole. The six people who come to see you suck.
The way they stand there and smoke cigarettes while you
play your crappy music sucks. The way YOU stand there,
practically nodding off while you diddle your instrument
sucks. The same tired venues you play suck and they all
need to be hosed down, wall to wall. Your band name
sucks. The mealy-mouthed, warmed-over tapioca indie
pop you play sucks. The over-orchestrated, pretentious
concept “songscapes” you’ve arranged suck. Your
attempt at “legitimacy” or some kind of “career” in the
“industry” sucks, and whatever facial hair you’ve sculpted
to help that along sucks, too. Your drug problem sucks;
you were barely tolerable enough as a sober human being
but now you just need to be avoided. Your MySpace
page sucks. The way you embed every shitty YouTube
video of your band, making the page load forever, sucks.
The way you post multiple bulletins about your one show
sucks, and so do those text messages you keep sending.
I’m sending you my overage bill. Your fliers suck and
your abuse of Photoshop is embarrassing. Also, here’s
an idea: why don’t you actually print some of those eyemurdering posters up, get up off your ass and go staple
them up around town; you know, make people think you
actually give a fuck. Your rap album sucks. It’s full of
shitty beats and stuff that nobody could possibly care
about. Why don’t you rap about something that matters
for a change. Your “noise” side-project sucks and so does
all of the wacky equipment you use. Stop fucking with
all those pedals. You’re not blowing people’s minds, just
yourself. Your metal band sucks. Sweaty dudes playing to
sweaty dudes: way to go, bros. Your scream-o, hardcore
whatever-the-fuck band sucks. What you try to pass off for
punk rock sucks. Remember when punk rock shows were
raucous and just a wee bit dangerous? Now it’s a bunch of
graduate students and old people standing around looking
bored and you all suck. Your dance parties suck and so
do all of the shallow, annoying people it attracts. Your
clique and all of the people who kiss your ass suck. The
grudges you’ve been holding since high school and all of
the ensuing drama sucks. Your record collection sucks.
No one cares about whatever limited-edition picture vineyul you own. Your nostalgia for old bands sucks. They
were never that good to begin with. Okay, some were,
but the way you name-drop and posture, protecting the
so-called integrity of the past while completely ignoring
the present sucks.
Worst of all, you’re wasting your talent, and that really
sucks. You got lazy. Remember when you were young
and hungry and wrote songs on someone else’s couch?
Remember being too dumb to know any better and creating
music that touched people because it was so honest and
simple? Whatever you’re doing now is not that, and it
sucks. Your shit-talking at the bar sucks. Get off the stool
and go do half of what you just talked about. Stop dreaming
in a smoke-filled black box, because the result sucks, and
we end up having to write about it because it’s our mission
to. C’mon New Orleans, give us something to work with.
Because otherwise, we suck, and it sucks to suck. Happy
Anniversary!
17
antigravitymagazine.com_
FEATURE
MUSIC
MC
TRACHIOTOMY’S
EUROPEAN INVASION, PART II
story and photos by zack smith
In the May issue of ANTIGRAVITY we ran the first part of photographer
Zack Smith’s tour journal of the European tour of the 9th Ward’s MC
Trachiotomy and his band, The Cone of Uncertainty. Here’s the second,
which picks up after a show in Toulouse, France.
LEAVING TOULOUSE
Leaving Toulouse, the crew is a mixed bag. Some sleeping, some
reading, but not as haggard as yesterday. We are driving through
the French countryside on our way to one of Trachitomy’s friends’
home. Our window views are miles of rolling mustard fields just
saturated by the rain and popping bright yellow and green. The fog
sets low on the chilled land as the van snakes its slow way past
dilapidated stone houses, concrete water towers, and crossing of the
occasional chicken or rabbit.
Trachiotomy met some folks fifteen years ago while living at The
Silo, an old grain silo turned squat in Amsterdam. This visit was
the first time they had seen each other since then. When told that
our show in Paris was at another squat, it made me realize what
kind of circuit we were on, and wonder how the hell anyone was
making any money on this tour. Last night’s lightning round show
in Toulouse was a squat, and I’m not sure how much they made
there, since there was no one taking door money. What I later
found out was nothing to write home about. I think everyone was
still hurting from the late night in Bordeaux, where psychedelics ran
rampant and one photographer ripped a stranger’s vintage Judas
Priest shirt open just to do it, and his left foot is still hurting. So all
were read to get out.
But, man, it’s got to be grueling with the money situation. I can’t
see any sense in renting a thousand-dollar Mercedes Van, backlining
gear and paying ridiculous tolls from Amsterdam to Bordeaux and
back while not making any money. You need to be twenty years
old. Or in J. Poggi’s case, 43 and going out smiling.
YOU CAN STAY HERE, BUT YOU CAN’T PLAY.
It hasn’t stopped raining since Toulouse. We arrive in Paris at
8pm, greeted by a slow, cold, miserable drizzle.
And the show is cancelled. The squat Sans Plomb called all the
bands (except) Trachiotomy, and called off the show. Needless
to say, Poggi is pissed. But even though they said they called,
some bands showed up anyway. We ended up staying there in
the cavernous squat, listening to an old MC Trachiotomy record,
Rowdy Life, over and over again. It was great to get a sense of where
Trach was so many years ago. The album was produced by Trach
with 9th Ward electronic stalwart and friend, Mr. Quintron and D.
Lefty Parker. The album shows hints of what we have here on tour,
but the raw punk grooves found on our European foundation are
replaced with haunting soprano wails, weird keyboard swashes and
plenty of vocal manipulation.
So all we could do was hang out and drink. Somehow Ratty or
Adele would get lost and come back with the cheapest, best wine.
I couldn’t find anything better after wandering into in Paris if I
tried. At the only coffee shop I went into, the owners’ mentally
handicapped son jokingly stole my wallet and threw an apple core
at me as I left. There was another fight between a few members,
this one involving spitting—and as we drank more and more it got
even more interesting. As the night wore on, we drank more wine
and wished we had something else...but there’s an eight-hour drive
to Hamburg still left ahead of us, and it’s either drive tonight (for a
total of eighteen hours in the van) or wait until tomorrow morning
and hit the town tonight. It was a unanimous decision to stay at the
flop that cancelled us and take rest on another filthy couch.
LEAVING PARIS
The van is silent. From the cancellation of last night’s show,
which was cancelled for ridiculous and questionable reasons, to
rising tempers with some of the crew, tensions are high. Maybe
the eight hours to Hamburg will be just what everyone needs. I
guarantee that if everyone was ten years younger, fists would have
flown a long time ago, and we’d have lost someone. Already, we
lost Sebastian (DJ Urine) to a much-needed visit to the hospital in
Paris for a look at his foot. It looks as if someone took a bite out
of it, but he’s not sure what it is, possibly a skin infection. I think I
may get one of those if I don’t shower soon. I think we all might.
It’s been since Bordeaux and my leg itches.
The drive out of Paris is too foggy to see anything but the fast
approaching skyline, as we race northwest towards Metz. I had a
feeling this part of the tour would be just like this: driving all day,
getting to the show at load-in, playing/partying, then waking up
and repeating. That’s rock ’n’ roll for you: everyone sees the fortyfive minutes you’re on stage and dramatizes about “life on the road”
and all you see and do. Except the only thing we are seeing from the
van’s body odor and tobacco-caked windows is a wet landscape of
the fading French countryside.
We pass signs like Chateau de Chantilly and Abbay de Raymont,
foret d’Hermenonville, and in the distance see spires of old
cathedrals and ancient structures waiting to be explored. These old
castles and churches are littered upon the rolling hills like you’d see
Exxons or run down BPs along the US Interstate system. Praise
the lord.
The more and more I travel outside of the United States, I come
to respect New Orleans, and both love and hate her more. Love
her for her uniqueness and ability to let you create your life the
way you want it in an old city, but hate her for being so damn
reluctant to change. It’s the double-edged sword of our amazing
city and our state. And in the end it’s not the city; it’s the ones in
power positions. It’s the ones who shrug their shoulders and say
“that’s just how it is” or “eh, it’s New Orleans” when talking about
backwards politics, the prevalent “good ole boy” system still alive
and well, and rampant racism and reverse racism that prevails.
After a well-needed rest in the big bed, I awaken to blue German
skies. The countryside is very similar to that of France, but here,
with the occasional wind power generator, grazing fawn and
lederhosen laden farmer. We stop at a gas station, and I realize that
in France we could all put together a complete sentence and get
what we need. In Germany, we don’t know a lick of the language.
At least the weather is great. We are going to be staying in Hamburg
for the next four days, and the duration of my stay.
HAMBURG 88KM
Trying not to give tonight’s club or promoters any ammunition
to cancel the show, Trach is hauling ass in the monster Mercedes
van trying to beat the clock to get to the club. Through narrow
construction on two lane highways, and Guns ’N’ Rose’s “One in
a Million” Blaring on the surround sound, we are coming within
inches of cars that we could easily crush or run off the road. We’re
already half an hour late with another hour to go, due in part to a
GPS machine that keeps freezing up every few hours.
Coming up on Hamburg, we begin to see a very industrial type
of town, like Lake Charles but more spread out on the countryside.
Hamburg has been described as a rough port town, maybe like
what New Orleans was a hundred years ago. My last run in with a
“rough” port town was Puerto Barrios, Guatemala. It was as if the
booze and lowdown women had claimed many a sailor’s career,
and they weren’t happy about the reality that was forced upon
them.
From the van I see what looks like now as the San Francisco
skyline of Lucas-inspired AT-AT Walkers from Star Wars. Glorified
container movers they are. We arrive at the HAFENKLANG right
in the middle of port town
Hamburg. There’s barbecue
and beer outside, and we are
welcomed with open arms
and popping champagne,
a far cry from last night’s
hello/goodbye. It’s one of
Trachiotomy’s good buddy’s
birthday parties tonight, and
to be honest, the reason why
this tour could even happen.
Tonight will be a special
night. The marquis reads
that SABOT, a local group,
will open, followed by Ratty
Scurvic’s Singularity. It’s a
surprise to even Ratty. And
although it’s a surprise,
nothing less of a special
occasion: he just put on
pants.
The crowd is mostly in
black, some silver metal
studs, but much of what
you’d expect from a German
port city metal club.
18_antigravity: your new orleans music and culture alternative
I struck up a conversation with the folks from CESTA, Hilary
and Chris, which is the Cultural Exchange Station in Dabor, Czech
Republic. Those two made music that sounds like The Jesus Lizard
was a drum and bass duo. But the drummer was a woman. This was
one of the best female drummer’s I’ve seen—she killed it. The place
was slowly getting full as the night wore on, and from the vibe of
the band, tonight was going to be a good show. Before Trach’s set,
Wendy, aka Sub Zero Permafrost, a New Orleans transplant living
in Hamburg, did about twenty minutes of emceeing and was the
good New Orleans welcome abroad, just what the band needed to
sink into their set.
After Paris’ flop, Hamburg made up for it. The Cone of
Uncertainty’s songs were loose but rocking, the band was tight
and stretching songs as long as they needed to. We hadn’t seen
Bisquit or Chris on stage since Bordeaux, and tonight they created
the atmospherics that were missing from the Toulouse show.
Even as a punk trio with Urine, Trach’s band can get it done, but
without the psychadelic meanderings of Bisquit on turntables and
Chris Capdeville on his circuit bent keys, the total package is not
delivered.
Ratty was given the closing slot this night. Ratty’s set was not his
typical Singularity set, since there was no kick drum or modified
snare, but he entertained nonetheless. He was pulling songs out
of his hat, one after another for the next half-hour. His songs
made you feel as if we were witnessing street theatre, or were in
a tiny cabaret in France. And just as if the impromptu nature of
street theatre crept into the Hafenklang, Ratty’s set was pulled by
the soundman, who blared the house music after he cut the mic.
I’ve never seen anyone jump from the stage so fast. Ratty took off
towards the soundman and had some words. I’m not sure what was
said, but that was it for his show. What I found out later was that
the soundman had “crossed some wires” and the house music came
on, and the club owner and soundman profusely apologized after
the show. No harm.
We packed up loosely and hit the town with out host Marge, and
another guide who is known only as Sex Magic, to celebrate.
For the next three days, we are without a show in Hamburg.
We are staying in the Schanze section of St. Pauli. Marge, our
gracious host, and her hostel are amazing. It’s like a dream. Marge
has been squatting here for almost three years—but you would
never call this a squat in derogatory terms. It’s not the huddledaround-the-oil barrel-fire-with-cutoff-gloves kind of squat. It’s a
taken over apartment complex, reminding me of the projects in
New Orleans—but a lot nicer. The outside common area is a maze
of political graffiti and German slang. You walk down the small
dirt road and it opens to a communal area where people are skating,
playing ping-pong, and hanging out.
These squats are common areas to a much larger system of a
powerful, organized and political movement by the people. These
squats are community driven and those that want to take charge,
clean up an area and live in it—it’s there to do so. It goes without
saying that even in the community-run squats in Hamburg, they
have their fair share of politics. But it is manageable.
FEATURE
There are even riots. Every day around our Labor Day weekend,
there are standoffs in the streets, as the squatters from the Schanze’s
squatting districts band together and crowd the streets. Inevitably
the cops come, windows are smashed and the cops are eventually
driven back. In my three days in the Schanze, I saw four cops. And
they walked together, very close, and didn’t interact at all. That’s
how hands-off this area is.
MUSIC
These days are downtime for the band, and it’s well-needed. The
last few days of driving is getting to Trachiotomy’s back and legs
and it’s time for rest. We get a chance to catch up on some current
happening in the MC Trachiotomy world, and not-so-far-off future
of the music.
Zack Smith is a frequent contributing photographer in ANTIGRAVITY
and many other publications, as well as local band Rotary Downs’
drummer. For more info on Zack Smith, go to zacksmith.com, and for
more on MC Trachiotomy, go to myspace.com/mctrachiotomy. See and
hear the next part of the interview when the website of Humid Beings
launches at humidbeings.com
19
antigravitymagazine.com_
REVIEWS
BLANK DOGS
UNDER AND UNDER
(IN THE RED)
O
ver the past couple of years, Blank
Dogs has exhibited moderateto-severe agoraphobia coupled with
a need to ingest a steady diet of all
things early-’80s post-punk. The result
has been dozens of art-damaged, lo-fi
songs released on a number of obscure
labels, including the Dutch label 4:2:2:, and all running in very
limited pressing of about 500 copies per release. Garnering hype
in critical circles as much for his mystique as his musical output,
Blank Dogs’ music is now available for the first time to a larger
audience thanks to In The Red’s release of his new album, Under
and Under. Beginning with the paranoid, slightly Skinny vibe of “No
Compass” and never looking back, Blank Dogs weaves a modernday tale of life in the concrete, cluster-fuck jungle; insecurity, doubt
and anger abound, with a slice of guilt thrown in just for good
measure. A few tracks stand out more than others: the whirling halo
of remorsefulness about “Slowing Down,” the stubborn restraint
of “The New Things” and the “Tainted Love” of lead single “Set
Fire To Your House” come to mind, but in all actuality, the album
possesses no floaters. Rather, the tracks reinforce those prior while
not comprising each individual song’s integrity and distinctiveness.
What Blank Dogs achieves on Under and Under is acerbic in that his
tones and damaged instruments spell out a confused utopia—calling
a song “The New Things“ while playing out a Radiohead-circaOK Computer guitar line lends to the fact that he’s aware that all
is recycled nowadays. But he has no shame in recycling, and nor
should you. Compare to Deerhunter, in that this music will touch
on past remembrances not yet had, evoking nostalgia for times
idealistically transposed. Enjoy accordingly, and as always, “Death
to the demoness Allegra Geller.” —Dan Mitchell
CAMERA OBSCURA
MY MAUDLIN CAREER
(4AD)
S
cotland’s Camera Obscura, as lead
by vocalist Tracyanne Campbell,
slinks and saunters out of your
speakers and into the atmosphere with
a grace music lovers usually only hope
to get in an album. Camera Obscura’s
jump from the label Merge to their
new home at 4AD shows no signs of a musical decline. The band
is as innovative as ever, and Campbell’s vocals (not unlike Neko
Case’s) are pristine and amazing. Vintage in feel, the vocals also
lend themselves to keeping Camera Obscura’s brand of orchestral
pop feel new. Chamber elements similar to fellow Scots Belle and
Sebastian are accented by beautifully layered production, which
is reminiscent of early Phil Spector soul recordings. From the
introductory track “French Navy” to “Honey In The Sun,” My
Maudlin Career represents the band in the highest light. Fans of their
previous album, Let’s Get Out of This Country, or Peter Bjorn and
John, or El Perro del Mar, will not be disappointed. —Emily Elhaj
group, The Mystic Valley Band, a ragtag group of mostly Southern
boys with a flair for good ole fashioned folk rock. Outer South brings
that in spades while adding a little variety. With most members taking a
turn or two singing lead, the result is an amalgam of hum-along ditties,
powerful, driven rock and even some danceable synth pop. Of the
“other” vocalists, drummer Jason Boesel shines the brightest, with his
musky, deep vibrato and understated delivery. The themes Oberst has
spent his career focusing on are still very much present, but this time
handled in a far less obnoxiously emo, whiny way. The highlight of the
album is, without a doubt, the politically charged anthem “Roosevelt
Room,” in which Oberst blasts the government’s ineptitude. NOLA
even gets a shout-out in the line “You want me to pay my taxes / So
you can propagate your lie / While there are barefoot dudes down in
New Orleans / Looking like they’re gonna die.” I don’t know about
you, but I enjoy my political dissidence with a dash of rollicking organ.
If you prefer folksy “Landlocked Blues” Oberst to “Lover I Don’t
Have to Love” Oberst, this album is for you. —Erin Hall
DAN DEACON
BROMST
(CARPARK)
W
ith the surprise success of
Spiderman of the Rings, Dan
Deacon’s notoriety has increased by
leaps and bounds and as such the media
narrative for him has also developed
rapidly—idiot savant, a man-child
musician making giddy elctropsychedelia. It’s nigh impossible to view his follow-up record, Bromst,
as anything but a reaction to those labels. Darker, deeper and more
complicated than Spiderman…, Bromst is an effort of pure joy without
straying into the absurd. The record’s most obvious calling card is
its restraint, something rejected outright on Spiderman…—tracks like
opener “Build Voice” bubble and climb, percolating piano trills and
analog hums gaining momentum until the song break into jubilant
choruses. “Woof Woof” is centered on a constricting analog bassline
and calliope melody, and its mixture of circus aesthetics and boom-bap
beats comes off like battle rap for carnival clowns, a most fascinating
combo. In spite of all that, the tracks do reside further down the register
than his normal pitch (castrated munchkin) and the instrumentation,
while still tweaked into warped approximations of real world sounds,
still feels more organic. Digital bloops and bleeps are replaced with
preprogrammed player pianos and distorted organs, drum machines
loaded with natural kit hits and vocals that sound stretched, but not to
cartoonish levels. Bromst shifts Dan Deacon’s modus operandi enough
to put a fresh face on his style of electro-pop. Most pleasing is the
album’s inclusion of real emotion, emotive depth where once there
was only shallow, saccharine sweetness. The centerpiece of the record
is “Snookered,” a slow building plod that churns up from chimes and
ambient swirls, a mid-tempo track dominated by sincere and relatively
untouched vocals only to erupt in a synth bass-backed, stuttered and
chopped thing of madness and ecstasy. Dan Deacon has said that
whereas Spiderman of the Rings was a party, Bromst is a celebration—I
can’t think of any better way to sum up the record. More substantial
than his earlier music yet retaining its gift for elation and surprise,
Bromst is a truly great album. —Mike Rodgers
CONOR OBERST AND
THE MYSTIC VALLEY
BAND
OUTER SOUTH
(MERGE)
T
aking a break from wrenching the
hearts out of the world’s black-clad
teens as the lead singer of Bright Eyes,
Conor Oberst took a detour a few years
back to tour and record with a new
THE DECEMBERISTS
THE HAZARDS OF LOVE
(CAPITOL)
D
estined to be the most polarizing
album in this Portland band’s
repertoire, The Hazards of Love leaves
behind the days of addictive nautical
sing-a-longs and traipses into the
woods of the oft-dreaded and rarelyattempted (for good reason) “rock
opera.” While the tracks on Hazards do have a hard time standing
on their own, the whole is worth experiencing. From beginning
to end, Hazards is engaging and flows as smoothly as one of the
rivers Colin Meloy is so fond of drowning his characters in.
All this was accomplished by adding two female vocalists (My
Brightest Diamond’s Shara Worden and Lavender Diamond’s
Becky Stark) and a toolshed’s worth of new instruments (hurdygurdy, upright bass and Hammond B3 organ, among others).
Stark voices the heroine, Margaret, and her duet with Meloy
on “Isn’t It a Lovely Night?,” an accordion and pedal steeldriven waltz, is a beautiful and tender precursor to the Queen’s
entrance in the following track, “The Wanting Comes in Waves/
Repaid.” Wooden voices, the menacing Queen and the bombast
and grit of her vocals force the band to ratchet up their swagger,
resulting in their hardest sound to date. “The Rake’s Song” is
classic Decemberists, profiling a foul man who describes in
detail murdering his children to regain his freedom. Of his son,
he mentions how he “burned his body for incurring my wrath.”
Don’t worry though; the kids all come back in “The Hazards of
Love 3 (Revenge!),” with its deliciously creepy chorus for dear old
dad. While not as listener-friendly as their past outings, Hazards
makes for an entertaining and, frankly, epic, hour of folk/prog
rock. —Erin Hall
PEACHES
I FEEL CREAM
(XL)
N
ever one to dive too deep into
heady territory, Peaches’ debut
record, The Teaches of Peaches, was
an exercise in deliciously simple sex
raps, a minimalist, hedonistic techno
record that could rock a house party.
Since that record, Peaches has met
with mixed results, releasing two more records that captured the
spark of the first in spots, but also spun their wheels in mediocrity.
I Feel Cream breaks that trend and becomes the first Peaches album
to not only equal her debut, but in many ways surpass it. Less
the pseudo-glam rock of its predecessor, Peaches again returns to
sparse, bass-heavy electro with great results. “Talk To Me” is a
soul jam spun through a bank of processors and carried along by
a synthetic keyboard bassline that bounces and hums like a live
wire, while “Billionaire” is a dub step, chick rap flip on hip-hop
materialism. Two of the strongest tracks are “Trick or Treat,” a
deep note techno buzzsaw that sounds like the illegitimate child of
Miami Bass, and the fuzzed out sleaze rock anthem “Showstopper.”
For much of the record Peaches’ formula remains, if not unchanged
at least pleasantly refined—Spartan electroclash rhythms dotted
by analog stabs and Peaches’ sultry rhymes or surprisingly strong
singing. The subject matter is still centered on sexual politics or just
sex, but in place of the stark imagery found on The Teaches of Peaches
(“Sucking on my titties like you wanted me…”), there’s more
innuendo and metaphor, which helps the record attain some kind
of legitimacy without betraying its intentions. Some of the credit to
this revitalization must go to guest producers Simian Mobile Disco,
Soulwax and others, who add new layers and angles to Peaches’
sound without bastardizing it. So, for new fans or critics this is a
welcome breath of originality, and for devotees it’s the reward for
sticking around. With I Feel Cream, hipsters finally have something
to dirty up their dance parties again. —Mike Rodgers
MUSIC REVIEWS SPONSORED BY THE OFFICIAL RECORD STORE OF ANTIGRAVITY
20_antigravity: your new orleans music and culture alternative
REVIEWS
SERGE GAINSBOURG
HISTOIRE DE MELODIE
NELSON
(LIGHT IN THE ATTIC)
erge Gainsbourg, though one of
the most successful performers
in French music history, has had a
rocky relationship with the U.S. and
no record best exemplifies either that
relationship or what we as Americans
have missed out on as a result of it. Histoire De Melodie Nelson is a rock
treasure, one of the most influential albums in modern music and
only recently available in the States. Its subtle blend of stinging ’70s
rock guitar, groovy rhythm section and orchestral flourishes has been
appropriated by acts as popular as Beck (whose record Sea Change
is incredibly indebted to Gainsbourg’s work here) and De La Soul.
Melodies weave in and out of the songs, always backed by exquisite
basslines or drum breaks, while strings swell and recede with the
lyrics. Gainsbourg’s voice lilts almost casually over the tracks, singspeaking more often than not, his voice punctuated by sharp guitar
stings or riffs. The burning cut “En Melody,” which may or may not
be the instrumental depiction of their consummation, is the closest
the record comes to straight up rock and its ill, thumping basslines,
funky riffing and hi-hat heavy snare fills are as rocking as anything
produced in that era. For all the record’s subtlety in its music, the
themes make up for in spades. Telling the tale of a protagonist who
runs over an underage girl on her bicycle only to bring her back
to health and begin a torrid love affair before losing her in a plane
crash, the record in actuality is about Gainsbourg himself and his
young lover, Jane Birkin. This risqué subject matter has held this
record from a domestic release since 1971. The only real knock
against the album is its length, most of Histoire De Melodie Nelson
is around two-to-three minutes long and the album feels more like a
short song cycle than a full-length record. But even this short slight
doesn’t keep the piece from greatness—Histoire De Melodie Nelson is a
piece of rock history and for my money one of the best combinations
of rock music and orchestral instrumentation. —Mike Rodgers
S
SUPER FURRY
ANIMALS
DARK DAYS/LIGHT YEARS
or hooks, instead it buries them in thick layers of rhythm and texture,
with gems like Helium Hearts and its simple if very pretty chorus
hiding within its depths. Dark Days/ Light Years is one of those
albums that reward patience. At first glance it’s a less expressive,
less appealing album than its predecessor, but its particular brand of
complex throwback rock and kicked back psychedelia opens up with
repeat listens. Ultimately, though not quite as peppy as Hey Venus,
Dark Days/ Light Years is a more mature record whose strengths lie
in its depth. —Mike Rodgers
WILCO
WILCO (THE ALBUM)
(NONESUCH)
The cover tells you everything you
need to know: a camel in a party
hat; tiny chairs; birthday cake. On
their seventh studio album, the men
of Wilco are determined not to take
themselves too seriously. Wilco (The
Album) is a refreshing blend of their
early alt-country work like A.M. and mind-bending, meandering
guitar opuses like A Ghost is Born. The last half of the disc leans
heavily to the alt-country side and suffers a bit for it, not feeling
quite as propulsive as the first half and somewhat dampening the
pace. But even the album’s weakest track is well constructed and
impeccably written. Tweedy possesses a lyrical talent that is difficult
to match. Standout tracks include the warped romp “Bull Black
Nova”— which will be absolutely KILLER live. A duet with indie
darling Fiest, “You and I,” is an impossibly sweet little ditty in the
vein of similar Wilco tracks that express optimism about romance in
the face of complexity and general screwed-up-ness (“Reservations”
and “Either Way”). Lastly, “Deeper Down” utilizes a sudden
stop coupled with a pregnant sonic pause at the end of each set
of phrasing, leaving the listener perched on the edge of their seat,
anticipating the next move. For a band whose members have been
making music almost longer than I’ve been alive, still being able to
generate that sort of emotion is a pretty big win. —Erin Hall
BOOKS
(ROUGH TRADE)
H
ey Venus was a surprise contender
for album of the year in 2008. Its
mix of fuzzed out rock and ’60s-style
melodies was instantly endearing, and
while Dark Days/ Light Years might not
be as instantaneously engrossing, its brooding sound proves almost
as rewarding. I know it’s a simplistic way to review a record, but the
first thing that stuck out to me on my initial spin of the record was its
cool ’70s arena rock vibe. More often than not I could envision Steve
Miller Band or Joe Walsh playing these songs. And while it’s almost
too easy to cast Hey Venus as their ’60s album and Dark Days… as
their ’70s one, but the shoe fits in many ways. “Mt,” the second
track, with its slow gallop, even delivery and slightly tweaked string
section, call to mind the best that ’70s radio rock brought to the table.
Dark Days… wallows in this kind of bluesy, bassy area, relying more
on complex rhythms and post-’60s psychedelics than bubblegum
hooks. Both “Moped Eyes” and opener “Crazy Naked Girls” are as
much callbacks to a disco sensibility as they are modern pop songs,
with “Moped Eyes” especially cocksure, strutting on a funky bass
pluck and mean groove. The anomaly of the record is “Inaugural
Trams,” a synthetic dance pop cum Kraut Rock excursion that
frames a jaunty beat and surprisingly catchy hook in analog squeaks,
squelches and key melodies. The record doesn’t flaunt its melodies
CHUCK PALAHNIUK
PYGMY
(DOUBLEDAY)
P
rematurely dubbed the voice of a
generation and derisively called a
hack, the truth about Chuck Palahniuk
lies somewhere in between. His knack
for crafting interesting characters and
creating vivid—if disgusting—imagery
is offset by his suspect plotting and
repetitive stylistic tics, leaving many
readers feeling unfulfilled by his work.
While Pygmy, his newest book, takes
some drastic steps to change up his
perceived wheel spinning, present
are the unmistakable marks of Palahniuk’s prose, which leaves the
novel in a less than flattering light. The biggest formal shift, and also
the largest hurdle for a prospective reader, is the novel’s unyielding
use of dialect. Palahniuk relies entirely on dispatches from a first
person narrator, Operative 67, presented in a kind of pidgin English
that lingers somewhere between Engrish and institutional textbooks,
and while the total dedication of the author to his stylistic choice is
laudable, and the chopped and broken musing of the narrator are
intermittently humorous, the end result seems as much a writing
exercise as a necessary element to the story. Pygmy attempts to
skewer generic American values by analyzing all its obvious
deficiencies and flaws through the lens of imbedded undercover
agents intent on initiating a terrorist attack in the US. That this
setting is so ripe for the kind of bent satire Palahniuk is known for
makes the diminished returns all the more disappointing. America’s
obsessions with ownership, desire and individuality are roasted, but
they’re all topics that have been harpooned before and characters
of Pygmy do nothing to shine new perspective on the issues. The
plot itself is poorly structured—with no discernable momentum
the book leaps from incident to incident, omitting large chunks of
time or character development, and when the inevitable climax
comes it feels half-baked and too sudden to have any real meaning.
Palahniuk’s voice remains as acidic as ever, cataloguing the various
depravities of both cultures present in the novel, whether they be
anal rape, school shootings or violent political indoctrinations with
excruciating detail, but without much substance propping up the
imagery it becomes little more than an ode to the grotesque, a stylish
flourish of extreme ugliness. —Mike Rodgers
FILM
JAMES TOBACK
TYSON
(SONY)
“Born to adore the big bad bison,
thunderstorm and a man like Tyson.”
“Mellowship Slinky in B – Major,”
The Red Hot Chili Peppers
M
ike Tyson, “Isn’t that the guy
who bit someone’s ear off?”
a friend asked when I told them the
subject of James Toback’s latest
documentary, Tyson.
Yes, but no. Mike Tyson did in fact
bite Evander Holyfield twice, once
on each ear, during an unforgettable 1997 bout ironically dubbed
“The Sound and The Fury.” He was subsequently disqualified for
the transgression and lost his boxing license; but for the record,
Holyfield did leave the ring with two ears.
If the ear biting incident is the only memory you have of Mike
Tyson’s astronomical rise and subsequent fall from grace, then
Tyson is a film you absolutely must see.
Tyson is as decidedly one-sided as his early bouts, many of which
ended in mere seconds. Viewers of a certain age may recall just how
unthinkable the thought of Mike Tyson losing a fight really was. The
man was a force of nature. Only through hearing his own words do
we begin to comprehend the sociological impulses that drove Mike
Tyson to become the man that he is.
His motivation was fear. Fear of losing. Fear that stemmed from
a childhood spent in a broken home, watching a prized pet killed
before his eyes by a tormentor. Eventually he would turn to crime
and end up in juvenile detention in upstate New York where his life
took a turn. He was introduced to trainer Cus D’Amato, who gained
the youth’s trust and became the young fighter’s legal guardian.
D’Amato would not live long enough to see Mike Tyson win the
heavyweight title. Tyson would rise to greater heights, eventually
unifying all three major title belts before fame, sexual promiscuity
and drugs began his downward spiral. Marriages unraveled, he was
jailed on a rape charge and fear would get the better of him.
It’s all in here in dazzling aural and visual collages showing the
complexity of a man we don’t truly understand by the end, but we
feel as though we’ve come to know and, quite possibly, forgive.
—J.W. Spitalny
21
antigravitymagazine.com_
EVENTS
NEW ORLEANS VENUES
Melvin’s, 2112 St. Claude Ave.
MONDAY 6/1
SUNDAY 6/7
Dirty Bourbon River Show, Dragon’s Den
(Downstairs), 10pm
Loose Marbles, One Eyed Jacks, 9pm
Michael Hornsby, Circle Bar
Barrister’s Art Gallery, 2331 St. Claude Ave.
MVC, 9800 Westbank Expressway, (504) 2342331, www.themvc.net
The Big Top, 1638 Clio St., (504) 569-2700,
www.3ringcircusproductions.com
Neutral Ground Coffee House, 5110 Danneel St.,
(504) 891-3381, www.neutralground.org
TUESDAY 6/2
The Blue Nile, 534 Frenchmen St., (504) 948-2583
Nowe Miasto, 223 Jane Pl., (504) 821-6721
Broadmoor House, 4127 Walmsley, (504) 8212434
Ogden Museum, 925 Camp St., (504) 539-9600
Bonnie “Prince” Billy, The Howling Hex, One
Eyed Jacks
Ed Barrett, Circle Bar
Kelcey Mae, Ladyfingers, Johnny Woodstock,
Hi-Ho Lounge, 10pm
The Tanglers, Dragon’s Den (Upstairs), 10pm
Buffalo, Banks Street Bar & Grill, 8pm
Chicken Little, Loren Murrell, Dragon’s Den
(Downstairs), 10pm
Fleur de Tease Burlesque, One Eyed Jacks, 8pm,
10pm
Hold My Beer and Watch This Tour f/ Wade
Bowen, Randy Rogers, The Parish @ House Of
Blues
Honey Island Swamp Band, d.b.a., 10pm
New Orleans Poetry Slam, Dragon’s Den
(Downstairs), 8pm
New York Dolls, Black Joe Lewis, The
Honeybears, House Of Blues
WEDNESDAY 6/3
MONDAY 6/8
American Aquarium, Circle Bar
The Antlers, All-Ways Lounge
Grace Potter and The Nocturnals, The Parish
@ House Of Blues
IXNAY and Friends, Hi-Ho Lounge, 10pm
Liquid Peace Revolution, Dragon’s Den
(Downstairs)
Mika Miko, Strange Boys, Necrohippies, The
Saturn Bar, 9pm
Pig Lizzard, Downstairs Doodle, Mojo
Method, Dragon’s Den (Upstairs)
Row Craven, Mister Hazlewood, Circle Bar
45 Tchoup, 4529 Tchoupitoulas (504) 891-9066
Banks St. Bar And Grill, 4401 Banks St., (504)
486-0258, www.banksstreetbar.com
Cafe Brasil, 2100 Chartres St., (504) 947-9386
Carrollton Station, 8140 Willow St., (504) 8659190, www.carrolltonstation.com
Checkpoint Charlie’s, 501 Esplanade Ave.,
(504) 947-0979
Chickie Wah Wah, 2828 Canal Street (504)
304-4714, www.chickiewahwah.com
Circle Bar, 1032 St. Charles Ave., (504) 5882616, www.circlebar.net
Club 300, 300 Decatur Street, www.
neworleansjazzbistro.com
Coach’s Haus, 616 N. Solomon
The Country Club, 634 Louisa St., (504) 9450742, www.countryclubneworleans.com
d.b.a., 618 Frenchmen St., (504) 942-373, www.
drinkgoodstuff.com/no
Der Rathskeller (Tulane’s Campus), McAlister
Dr., http://wtul.fm
Dragon’s Den, 435 Esplanade Ave., http://
myspace.com/dragonsdennola
Eldon’s House, 3055 Royal Street,
arlovanderbel@hotmail.com
NEW ORLEANS (Cont.)
One Eyed Jacks, 615 Toulouse St., (504) 5698361, www.oneeyedjacks.net
Outer Banks, 2401 Palmyra (at S. Tonti),
(504) 628-5976, www.myspace.com/
outerbanksmidcity
Republic, 828 S. Peters St., (504) 528-8282,
www.republicnola.com
Rusty Nail, 1100 Constance Street (504) 5255515, www.therustynail.org/
The Saturn Bar, 3067 St. Claude Ave., www.
myspace.com/saturnbar
Side Arm Gallery, 1122 St. Roch Ave., (504)
218-8379, www.sidearmgallery.org
THURSDAY 6/4
Southport Hall, 200 Monticello Ave., (504) 8352903, www.newsouthport.com
Andrew Duhon, d.b.a., 10pm, $5
Lucy Gossett, K-Town and The Mania,
Natalie Mae, Carrollton Station, FREE
Paul Sanchez, d.b.a., 7pm
Ruby Rendrag, Circle Bar
Surf Night w/ Crimson Ghosts, The Bills, The
UnNaturals, Hi-Ho Lounge, 10pm
The Spellcaster Lodge, 3052 St. Claude
Avenue, www.quintonandmisspussycat.com/
tourdates.html
St. Roch Taverne, 1200 St. Roch Ave., (504)
945-0194
Tipitina’s, (Uptown) 501 Napoleon Ave., (504)
895-8477 (Downtown) 233 N. Peters, www.
tipitinas.com
FRIDAY 6/5
Fuel Coffee House, 4807 Magazine St. (504)
895-5757
METAIRIE VENUES
Goldmine Saloon, 701 Dauphine St., (504) 5860745, www.goldminesaloon.net
Airline Lion’s Home, 3110 Division St.
The Green Space, 2831 Marais Street (504) 9450240, www.thegreenproject.org
The Bar, 3224 Edenborn, myspace.com/
thebarrocks
Handsome Willy’s, 218 S. Robertson St., (504)
525-0377, http://handsomewillys.com
Hammerhead’s, 1300 N Causeway Blvd, (504)
834-6474
The Hangar, 1511 S. Rendon. (504) 827-7419
Hi-Ho Lounge, 2239 St. Claude Ave. (504) 9454446, www.myspace.com/hiholounge
The High Ground, 3612 Hessmer
Ave., Metairie, (504) 525-0377, www.
thehighgroundvenue.com
Hostel, 329 Decatur St. (504-587-0036),
hostelnola.com
BATON ROUGE VENUES
Hot Iron Press Plant, 1420 Kentucky Ave.,
hotironpress@hotmail.com
The Caterie, 3617 Perkins Rd., www.thecaterie.com
A Living Soundtrack, D Numbers, Beautiful
Bells, Dragon’s Den (Upstairs), 10pm
ActionActionReaction Indie Dance Party,
Circle Bar
Designate Zero, Headspill, World’s Most
Dangerous, Howlin’ Wolf
The Dirty Bourbon River Show, Banks Street
Bar & Grill, 10pm
Endall, The Bar, 9pm
Eric Lindell, Mid-City Lanes
Hot Club of New Orleans, d.b.a., 6pm
New Orleans Partying, Dragon’s Den
(Downstairs), 10pm
Power 102.9 Presents: NOLA’s Generation
Next f/ Curren$y, House Of Blues
Summertime in New Orleans Kickoff w/
Anders Osborne, Tipitina’s, 10pm, FREE
T.B.C. Brass Band, d.b.a., 10pm, $5
Twangorama, Woodenhead, Carrollton Station,
10:30pm
Wolves in the Throne Room, A Storm of
Light, Krallice, One Eyed Jacks
Chelsea’s Café, 2857 Perkins Rd., (225) 3873679, www.chelseascafe.com
SATURDAY 6/6
Ernie K-Doe’s Mother-in-Law Lounge, 1500
N. Claiborne Ave.
Fair Grinds Coffee House, 3133 Ponce de
Leon, (504) 913-9072, www.fairgrinds.com
House Of Blues / The Parish, 225 Decatur,
(504)310-4999, www.hob.com/neworleans
The Howlin’ Wolf, 907 S. Peters, (504) 522WOLF, www.thehowlinwolf.com
Kajun’s Pub, 2256 St. Claude Avenue (504) 9473735, www.myspace.com/kajunspub
Kim’s 940, 940 Elysian Fields, (504) 844-4888
The Kingpin, 1307 Lyons St., (504) 891-2373
Le Bon Temps Roule, 4801 Magazine St., (504)
895-8117
Le Chat Noir, 715 St. Charles Ave., (504) 5815812, www.cabaretlechatnoir.com
Lyceum Central, 618 City Park Ave., (410) 5234182, http://lyceumproject.com
Lyon’s Club, 2920 Arlington St.
Mama’s Blues, 616 N. Rampart St., (504) 453-9290
Maple Leaf, 8316 Oak St., (504) 866-9359
The Zeitgeist, 1618 Oretha Castle Haley Blvd.,
(504) 827-5858, www.zeitgeistinc.net
Vintage Uptown, 4523 Magazine St.,
askmexico@gmail.com
Badabing’s, 3515 Hessmer, (504) 454-1120
Dragonfly’s, 124 West Chimes
The Darkroom, 10450 Florida Blvd., (225) 2741111, www.darkroombatonrouge.com
Government St., 3864 Government St., www.
myspace.com/rcpzine
Junkyard House, 3299 Ivanhoe St.
North Gate Tavern, 136 W. Chimes St.
(225)346-6784, www.northgatetavern.com
Red Star Bar, 222 Laurel St., (225) 346-8454,
www.redstarbar.com
Rotolos, 1125 Bob Pettit Blvd. (225) 761-1999,
www.myspace.com/rotolosallages
The Spanish Moon, 1109 Highland Rd., (225)
383-MOON, www.thespanishmoon.com
The Varsity, 3353 Highland Rd., (225)383-7018,
www.varsitytheatre.com
Marlene’s Place, 3715 Tchoupitoulas, (504)
897-3415, www.myspace.com/marlenesplace
McKeown’s Books, 4737 Tchoupitoulas, (504)
895-1954, http://mckeownsbooks.net
22_antigravity: your new orleans music and culture alternative
3rd Echo, Christian Serpas and Ghost Town,
Sticky Wig, Howlin’ Wolf
Big Blue Marble, Carrollton Station
Eric Lindell, Old Point Bar
Goatwhore, The Bar, 9pm
Grass Roots w/ Truth Universal, Dragon’s Den
(Downstairs), 10pm
Little Freddie King, d.b.a., 11pm, $5
MDK f/ DJ Vendetta (of Corrosion), DJ Tot
Kuhunge (of Shadow Gallery), Hi-Ho Lounge,
10pm
The Myrtles, Circle Bar
The Nobles 2009 Anniversary Bash, House Of
Blues
Odoms Album Release Party w/ One Man
Machine, DJ Nate White, One Eyed Jacks
Richard Cheese and Lounge Against the
Machine, The Parish @ House Of Blues
The Space Heaters, Banks Street Bar & Grill,
10pm
White Colla Crimes, Dragon’s Den (Upstairs),
10pm
TUESDAY 6/9
Digital Leather, Thomas Function, The Saturn
Bar, 9pm
Gorgonopsium, Quarter The Villain, Cancer
Whores, Hi-Ho Lounge, 10pm
Kings of Happy Hour, Dragon’s Den
(Downstairs)
Schatzy, Circle Bar
WEDNESDAY 6/10
Best Friends Forever, Circle Bar
Gaelic Storm, The Parish @ House Of Blues
The Returners, Grave City Hooligans, Saturn
Bar, 10pm
THURSDAY 6/11
Clues, One Eyed Jacks, 7:30pm
Derrick Freeman Trio, d.b.a., 10pm
Hat Talk, Circle Bar
Homegrown Night w/ Phat Word, Dee-1,
Dappa, Q.P., Tipitina’s, 8:30pm, FREE
Jester Lee, The Sugar Bees, Carrollton Station,
FREE
Miracle Dolls, Chapel of Thieves, Grave City
Hooligans, Hi-Ho Lounge, 10pm
FRIDAY 6/12
Combichrist, Aesthetic Perfection, Ego
Likeness, Julien-K, The Hangar
DJ Redbone, DJ Proppa Bear, Dragon Fly,
Dragon’s Den (Upstairs)
Edge Set Mary, Southdown, Black Snow, The
Bar, 9pm
Grayson Capps, d.b.a., 10pm, $5
Ingrid Lucia, d.b.a., 6pm
Juniper Row, Carrollton Station
The Other Planets, Dragon’s Den (Downstairs)
The Round Pegs’ Nite of Almost 1000 Pegs
Extravaganza w/ Lynn Drury, Wending
Darling, Beth Patterson, Fleur de Tease,
Brown! Comedy Improv, The Local Skank,
Banks Street Bar & Grill, 9pm
Johnny Sketch and The Dirty Notes, Blue Nile
New Orleans Bingo! Show, Tipitina’s, 10pm,
FREE
Off the Dome MC Competition, Howlin’ Wolf
(RED)NIGHTS Presents The Veronicas, The
Pretty Reckless, Carney, House Of Blues
Silent Cinema, Bankrupt, The Borrowers,
Circle Bar
Swaggerin’ Growlers, Hi-Ho Lounge, 10pm
Tom Rhodes, One Eyed Jacks
EVENTS
SATURDAY 6/13
5 Angry Men Comedy Show, The Big Top
A Living Soundtrack, CaddyWhumpus,
Dragon’s Den (Upstairs)
Anders Osborne, Mid-City Lanes
Birdfinger Album Listening Party, Howlin’
Wolf
Gina Brown’s Legendary R&B Nite, Banks
Street Bar & Grill, 10pm
The Good Goddamn Show, Carrollton Station
Peaches, Drums of Death, House Of Blues
Peaches Afterparty w/ Mr. Quintron & Miss
Pussycat, One Eyed Jacks
Sarah and The Soft Shoes, Circle Bar
Zydepunks, d.b.a., 11pm, $5
SUNDAY 6/14
Autumn’s Aftermath, Dragon’s Den
(Downstairs)
Banks Goes Green w/ Eve’s Lucky Planet,
Banks Street Bar & Grill, 9pm
Gorilla Productions’ Battle of the Bands,
Howlin’ Wolf
Jon Cook, Circle Bar
Marc Stone Band, d.b.a., 10pm
Vorvadoss, Embolization, Raum, The Saturn
Bar, 9pm
MONDAY 6/15
Firebug, Circle Bar
Mike Dillon w/ James Singleton and Brian
Coogan, Dragon’s Den (Upstairs)
Ryan Cabrera, Blue Nile, 10pm, $10
Space to Mars, Dragon’s Den (Downstairs)
TUESDAY 6/16
Big Fat & Delicious, Sobriety Starts
Tomorrow, The Local Skank, Dragon’s Den
(Downstairs)
Death by Arrow f/ Stix Duh Clown, The
Devil Makes Three, Hi-Ho Lounge, 10pm
Wheels of Fire, Circle Bar
Reverend Horton Heat, Backyard Tire Fire,
House Of Blues
Smokers World, J The Savage, The Big Top,
9pm
Soundclash, Howlin’ Wolf
Van Halen II, Hat Talk, Dragon’s Den
(Downstairs)
ZamaPara, Carrollton Station
SATURDAY 6/20
The 13th Hour, Targeting Aorita, Cemetery
Party, The Bar, 9pm
Alex McMurray, d.b.a., 11pm, $5
Appetite For Destruction, House Of Blues
DJ Proppa Bear, DJ Resin, Dragon’s Den
(Upstairs)
Sticky Wig, Banks Street Bar & Grill, 10pm
To Be Continued Brass Band Album Release
Party, The Parish @ House Of Blues
Touching the Absolute, Built for Speed, Rising
Sun, Howlin’ Wolf
Twangorama Unplugged, Snug Harbor,
Midnight, FREE
SUNDAY 6/21
The Casualites, Leftover Crack, Dragon’s Den
(Downstairs), 7pm
Dane Cook, UNO Lakefront Arena
Jonny Lang, Michael Logen, House Of Blues
Lisa Marshall, Banks Street Bar & Grill, 8pm
Washboard Chaz Blues Trio, d.b.a., 10pm
MONDAY 6/22
Double Dagger, The Saturn Bar, 9pm
Russian Mafia Band, Dragon’s Den (Upstairs)
Tiger Woods Crew, Goose, Heata, Dragon’s
Den (Downstairs)
TUESDAY 6/23
Birdfight, Compost Bomb, Fiction, Dragon’s
Den (Downstairs)
Futurebirds, Circle Bar
WEDNESDAY 6/17
WEDNESDAY 6/24
Afton Local Rock Showcase, Howlin’ Wolf
Goddamn Gallows, Hi-Ho Lounge, 10pm
Wazozo, Circle Bar
THURSDAY 6/18
THURSDAY 6/25
The ANTIGRAVITY/New Orleans Craft
Mafia/Twisted Hair Salon Triple Threat
Anniversary Party w/ DJ Facial Hair, Twisted
Hair Salon (4824 Prytania), 6pm-10pm, FREE
Chris Scheurich, Circle Bar
Francis Harold and The Holograms, The
Saturn Bar, 9pm
Homegrown Night w/ Phosphate Jesse,
Monday’s Date, Pig Lizzard, Research
Turtles, 8:30pm, $8
Matt Perrine’s Sunflower City, d.b.a., 10pm, $5
Mix 92.3 Presents: Brett Dennen, Thriving
Ivory, House Of Blues
Not For Sale Music Inc. Children’s Charity
Comedy Show, Carrollton Station, FREE
Paul Sanchez, d.b.a., 7pm
Furrows, Circle Bar
MyNameIsJohnMichael, Andrew Duhon,
Tipitina’s, 10pm, $8
Ron Hotstream and Mary Lasseigne,
Carrollton Station, FREE
Suburban Showdown, The Saturn Bar, 9pm
Walter Wolfman Washington, Joe Krown,
Russell Batiste Jr. Trio, d.b.a., 10pm, $5
FRIDAY 6/26
Brothers and Kings, Paramaya, Hi-Ho Lounge,
10pm
Face First, Born Empty, Scraps of Life,
Endall, Howlin’ Wolf
Good Enough For Good Times, d.b.a., 10pm,
FRIDAY 6/19
$5
Ingrid Lucia, d.b.a., 6pm
ActionActionReaction Indie Dance Party, One Jenny Lewis, Heartless Bastards, House Of
Eyed Jacks
Blues
David Allan Coe, The Hangar
Justin Peake, Dragon’s Den (Downstairs)
Hot Club of New Orleans, d.b.a., 6pm
Kourtney Heart, Next Generation Brass Band,
John Mooney, d.b.a., 10pm, $5
Blackie, Dragon’s Den (Upstairs)
Liber Dirnus, The Bar, 9pm
No Room for Saints, Blower Motor, The Bar,
Marva Wright & The BMWs, Tipitina’s, 10pm, 9pm
FREE
The Original 007, Tipitina’s, 10pm, FREE
Meadowflow’s Birthday Bash w/ Blackbelt,
Paul Sanchez, Carrollton Station, 8pm
Neckbeard, Banks Street Bar & Grill, 9pm
The Tanglers Bluegrass Band, Carrollton
The Public, Circle Bar
Station, 10:30pm
23
antigravitymagazine.com_
EVENTS
SATURDAY 6/27
Banks St. Indie Music Festival w/ Silent
Cinema, I Octopus, J The Savage, Banks Street
Bar & Grill, 7pm
Ben Lee, Starlight Mints, Evangelicals, One
Eyed Jacks
The Chee Weez, House Of Blues
Dough Stackin’ Up All-Stars, Dragon’s Den
(Downstairs)
Gal Holiday & The Honky Tonk Revue, Circle
Bar
Glasgow, Picardy Birds, Carrollton Station
Misled, Mad Dog, The Saltines, The Bar, 9pm
The Original 007, d.b.a., 11pm, $5
Rebirth Brass Band, Tipitina’s, 10pm, $12
Terranova, Concrete Shoes, Outerbanks, 10pm
Versailles, Morella and The Wheels of If, DJ
Tot Kuhjunge, DJ Sneauxball, Hi-Ho Lounge,
10pm
Wit Suicide Presents a Suicide Girls Evening
w/ Zachary Quinn, Big Fat & Delicious,
Dragon’s Den (Upstairs)
SUNDAY 6/28
DJ Earl the Pearl, Dragon’s Den (Downstairs)
Gorilla Productions’ Battle of the Bands,
Howlin’ Wolf
Mass Mamones, d.b.a., 10pm
Simplified, Banks Street Bar & Grill, 8pm
MONDAY 6/29
Shotgun Silhouette, Dragon’s Den (Upstairs)
Ted Hadji, Circle Bar
TUESDAY 6/30
The Geraniums, Circle Bar
Good Guys, Tribella, Plastic Fantastic Lover,
Hi-Ho Lounge, 10pm
WEDNESDAY 7/1
Flow Tribe, Hightide Blues and The Steps,
Dave Shaw, Howlin’ Wolf
Toad the Wet Sprocket, House Of Blues
WEEKLIES & DANCE NIGHTS
MONDAYS
Blue Grass Pickin’ Party, Hi-Ho Lounge, 8pm
Glen David Andrews, d.b.a., 9pm
Juice’s Aron Lambert & CR Gruver Present:
Deuce!, Banks Street Bar & Grill, 9pm
Mad Mike, Checkpoint Charlie’s, 8pm
Missy Meatlocker, Circle Bar, (Every Other
Monday), 5pm
TUESDAYS
The Abney Effect, Hostel
Acoustic Open Mic, Carrollton Station, 9pm
Acoustic Open Mic w/ Jim Smith, Checkpoint
Charlie’s, 10pm
Floopy Head, Dragon’s Den (Upstairs)
[Beginning 6/9]
Jonathan Freilich and Alex McMurray, Circle
Bar, 6pm
New Orleans Jazz Vipers, d.b.a., 9pm
Open Mic w/ Whiskey T., Rusty Nail, 8pm
Reggae Night with Big Fat & Delicious, The
Uppressors, Banks St. Bar and Grill, 9pm/11pm
WEDNESDAYS
DJ Lefty Parker, R Bar
DJ T-Roy Presents: Dancehall Classics,
Dragon’s Den, 10pm, $5
Gravity A, Banks St. Bar and Grill, 10pm
Jim O. and The No Shows, Circle Bar, 6pm
24_antigravity: your new orleans music and culture alternative
EVENTS
Kenny Holiday and the Rolling Blackouts,
Checkpoint Charlie’s, 9pm
Marygoround & The Tiptoe Stampede, AllWays Lounge
Mojotoro Tango Trio, Yuki (525 Frenchmen
St.), 8pm
Standup Comedy Open Mic, Carrollton Station,
9pm
Tin Men, d.b.a., 7pm
Walter Wolfman Washington and The
Roadmasters, d.b.a., 10pm, $5
Swing; 6/26 w/ Subarboy), The Big Top, 5pm
God’s Been Drinking, La Nuit Comedy Theater,
8:30pm, $10
Jim O. and The Sporadic Fanatics, Circle, 6pm
Open Mic Stand-Up, La Nuit Comedy Theater,
10pm, $5
Ratty Scurvics Lounge, All-Ways Lounge
Throwback, Republic
Tipitina’s Foundation Free Friday!, Tipitina’s,
10pm
SATURDAYS
THURSDAYS
The Bombshelter w/ DJ Bomshell Boogie,
Dragon’s Den (Upstairs)
Come Drink with Matt Vaughn, R Bar
DJ Kemistry, LePhare
DJ Matic, Hostel
DJ Proppa Bear Presents: Bassbin Safari,
Dragon’s Den (Downstairs), 10pm
Fast Times ‘80s Dance Night, One Eyed Jacks
The Fens w/ Sneaky Pete, Checkpoint Charlie’s,
10pm
Hap Pardo Jazz Trio, All-Ways Lounge
Karaoke Fury, La Nuit Comedy Theater, 10pm
Mixture, Republic, 10pm, $7
Rabbit Hole, La Nuit Comedy Theater, 8:30
Sam and Boone, Circle Bar, 6pm
Soul Rebels, Les Bon Temps Roule, 11pm
Sweet Home New Orleans Legends of R&B
Night, Banks St. Bar & Grill, 8pm
FRIDAYS
DJ Bees Knees, R Bar
DJ Kemistry, Metro
Friday Night Music Camp (6/12 w/ Rites of
DJ Bees Knees ’80s Dance Party, All-Ways
Lounge
DJ Damion Yancy, Republic, 11pm
DJ Jive, LePhare
DJ Kemistry, Metro
The Drive In w/ DJ Pasta, R Bar
Javier Drada, Hostel
John Boutte’, d.b.a., 7pm
SUNDAYS
Acoustic Open Mic w/ Jim Smith, Checkpoint
Charlie’s, 7pm
Cajun Fais Do Do f/ Bruce Danigerpoint,
Tipitina’s, 5:30pm, $7 [6/14 & 6/21 Only]
Corrosion, Dragon’s Den (Upstairs), 10pm
Latin Dance Nite w/ Los Pinginos, Banks St.
Bar and Grill
Linnzi Zaorski, d.b.a., 6pm
Micah McKee and Friends, Circle Bar, 6pm
Music Workshop Series, Tipitina’s, 12:30pm
The Palmetto Bug Stompers, d.b.a., 6pm
The Sunday Gospel Brunch, House Of Blues
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COMICS
26_antigravity: your new orleans music and culture alternative
COMICS
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PHOTOS
28_antigravity: your new orleans music and culture alternative
PHOTOS
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CROSSWORD
21. Perhaps a little more Black Sabbath than Black Flag
22. Dent filler
23. Ignatius Reilly’s “Paradise Vendors” was modeled on
this real-life institution
24. Seaward Somalis with AK-47s
25. The birdlike voice of Paris
DOWN:
2. Do ya think I’m sexy?
3. Disagreeable Afghans
4. Still waiting on Minnesotans to learn to count
5. Many feel that when the bus jumped the guardrail, this
band jumped the shark
6. For awhile, they turned New Orleans into a “Three
Chord City”
7. Yankee mudbug
10. The widest street in America
13. Pistol Pete
15. Canine newcomer to D.C.
16. Yankee mudbug
17. Automatic haircut device
19. Purveyors of premium hardcore since 1996
20. Excremental term from the 1970s
CREATED BY J. YUENGER
ACROSS:
1. Tony Stark, the cool exec with a heart of steel
8. Minature mods
9. New Orleans punks go Asian
11. A po-boy might wear this
12. “Neither fish ___ flesh”
14. A first for Dax Riggs
16. Porcine youngster from Louisiana
18. “We form like Voltron, and he just happens to be the
head.”
30_antigravity: your new orleans music and culture alternative