Dead Man's Bones

Here's a piece that originally posted to kexp a month ago today. Dead Man's Bones plays The Triple Door tonight!


BluetoothFriend:
“He is an asshole. The video is evidence enough.”

Phoenix0929:
“Dude. He’s so sexy playing piano.”

DubbedVideoDubbed:
“What’s wrong with you? YOU’RE the asshole. You probably like Miley Cyrus or something. You are just a crap person.”

Cokkiepartylennon93:
“I love this. It’s so Gothic but not annoyingly Gothic. It’s real interesting. Iove it and I love their voices.”

Montgomc:
“It isn’t horrible but I’d rather see Ryan Gosling act than listen to him sing.”

Heyyounewave:
“Ryan marry me. Please.”

Have I told you about my new favorite way to not work at work? You guessed it, youtube commentary. If you’re like me you need something to distract you from the fact that you sit at a desk 40+ hours a week burning your eyes out on spreadsheets containing data you really couldn’t give two turds about. I do declare that youtube commentary may just be your savior. Simply dial up the interweb and start searching. Before you know it you’ll be totally LOLing coffee into your keyboard. It’s amazing really, when you consider the whole thought process behind creating the user name coupled with the energy required to initiate and maintain arguments with people you’ll likely never meet. To quote Gwen Stefani, this shit is BANANNAS. B-A-N-A-N-AY – ES!



Dead Man’s Bones is the thus-far astonishing musical side-project of actors Ryan Gosling (The Notebook, The Believer, Half-Nelson [Academy Award nomination, best recanize), Lars and the Real Girl) and Zach Shields (The Most Beautiful Thing, Fox 7 at Fifty). Regarded as one of the most dynamic and talented actors of his generation Gosling’s potential as a songwriter is unsurpassed. All zombie’s aside there is a certain terror that takes hold when faced with the work of actor/musicians – but I assure you - Dogstarr this is not. Gosling (on guitar, piano and vocals) and Shields (percussion) have put forth something special here.



With just 4 songs floating around the internet some may remain skeptical of Dead Man’s Bones (hey, it’s your right) but the way I see it, even if the rest of the album is corpse shit (doubtful) these songs and videos can stand alone in this space and time as something unique, energetic and moving.

Port O'Brien - Threadbare

You may remember a post from last year when I first experienced Port O'Brien...

Here is a new post - up today on kexp.org:

Earlier this month California natives Port O’Brien released their third full-length album Threadbare – on TBD Records (Radiohead, White Rabbits). Quite possibly my favorite record of 2008 this follow-up to the highly acclaimed All We Could Do Was Sing (City Slang Records) sees new emotional movement in the Port O’Brien camp. Those of you impacted by the boisterous, fun-loving, free-spirited anthems of last year’s breakout will immediately notice a shift in tonality, pace and subject matter within the hushed walls of Threadbare. I did. In fact I’m almost certain that after the first listen I turned to Kate and said “this sounds so different…almost muffled.” Indeed the sounds nestled amongst the grooves of this latest effort seem uniformly confined by overcast skies and high tides. These new songs are wrapped inside the kind of introspection that walks hand in hand with unexpected sadness - specifically the tragic loss of founding member Cambria Goodwin’s younger brother. Described as a freeform process, the early stages of Threadbare’s sessions soon gave way to the solitude of life’s slower moments. Recorded in large part with San Francisco’s Jason Quever ( Papercuts) the lion share of the record inhabits a space not much larger than the living room studio in which it’s tracks were laid. A longtime friend and tour-mate, Quever’s quiet contributions are palpable. He deserves a lot of credit for manning such a risky departure. While it may not soar to the erratic heights of it’s predecessor - Threadbare ratchets-up the humanity in a manner that solidifies it’s emotional impact and accessibility. Focused and deliberate Threadbare sheds the limitations of successful formulas while retaining the true essence of the band’s sound.

“My Will Is Good” is perhaps the apex of Threadbare’s likeness to last year’s All We Could Do Was Sing. The song – while surrounded in sombre(and elegantly arranged) acoustics and cello fog - finds Van Pierszalowski and Cambria Goodwin momentarily parting the clouds of loss with a beautifully softened burst of their uniquely of folked-up sing-along sound - all of the best bits are still here kids: toe-tapping intro followed up with a wonderfully catchy beat; Pierszalowski’s newly reserved voice (really maturing nicely, think of Conor Oberst’s transition from Letting Off the Happiness to The Story Is In The Soil…) humming (not enough of this in the world, anyone can sing back-up here) and lyrics that make really make you think.

All this is a good sign for Van, Cambria and the rest of the boys: with just three LP’s under their belts – Threadbare illustrates the band’s propensity for change. With change comes longevity. Sure All We Could Do Was Sing reached out, grabbed me by the neck and demanded my attention– but Threadbare – well Threadbare is really more like the arm of a sincere old friend – setting you down on the crappy old couch for some catching up.

PS – see them live.

catch with my favorite little amigo.

it's a whole hell of a lot easier for an adult to save a kid's life than vice versa. at best i've probably saved you from a broken bone or a few lost teeth.

this dude has your back for life.

if you're gonna scream, scream with me.

me and high-school really didn't get along. god, i hated that place. and that time. i graduated from the ironically named Elmira Free Academy a full year early - june of 1993 - and in the 16 years (uhm, wow) since have annihilated or overwritten most of those memories. lately i've been thinking about that shithole again. about the kid i was, the music i listened to and how it got me to where i sit today*. as the youngest of my three upstate siblings tries to find her way to the light at the end of study hall alot of the weird memories of high-school have been flowing back in.

by the time i became one of elmira's finest achievers i was WAY into collecting punk tapes. do you remember that gigantic waterproof sony walkman that was YELLOW with the locking mechanism on the side? why was it YELLOW? why, when cassette tapes were tiny and light as feather did this thing have to be a goddamned dictionary in your pocket? why was it YELLOW? yellow is basically the worst color on earth (fresh pee) and somebody at sony thought, let's make that shit YELLOW and way way bigger than it needs to be! let's make a PISS BRICK! i wore the most enormous pants back then and i can still remember straight struggling to get that thing out of my pocket. luckily it had cutting edge AUTO-REVERSE technology so tape-flipping was less of an issue but still - can you imagine kids on capitol hill using one of these? i think the yellow would go over fine, but actually getting it into a pocket of the modern trendsetter would be a physical impossibility. perhaps an ironic fanny pack is the answer. i dunno. i can't help you.

the thing i remember most about that walkman was the way it looked loaded up with my misfits Legacy of Brutality cassette. while most cassettes were that weird metallic clear plastic this shit was BLACK. you know what else is black? DEAD STUFF. man the misfits were my favorite band right around the time i had this stupid ass yellow walkman. thinking about it now, the thing probably looked like a goddamn bumble-bee but i remember thinking it looked so completely badass. I would listen to Static Age, Legacy of Brutality, Walk Among Us and Earth A.D. over and over until the AA's died or the tape got eaten.** I had at least 3 Misfits t-shirts including the classic skull shirt and an Earth A.D. shirt with several bloody wolf-man- zombies hanging from a nooses. ***

nowadays cassettes are long gone and i'm not sure why this happened but the misfits never transitioned into the CD/record collection for me. i thought for a while that maybe i had lost or let someone borrow my misfits CD's but i'm realizing now that i never had them. just the cassettes. i guess i just started getting into other stuff around the time CD's came out / i got into records and i just never replaced these formative classics.

over the years my taste has really expanded. to think that i really only listened to punk for years and years is pretty astonishing. I often make the mistake, when thinking about my own experience with music - changing tastes etc. - of thinking that i'm the only one that spent his childhood feeling songs like MOMMY, CAN I GO OUT AND KILL TONIGHT?, HYBRID MOMENTS and BULLET - despite a real inability to understand what the fuck Danzig was actually singing. Seriously, could you tell me the lyrics to those songs before Google existed? I don't think so. The misfits were ferocious and full of attitude; exactly what i needed at the time.

In the years following my taste slowly morphed - from clearly punk music (dead kennedys, bad religion, misfits, sex pistols, black flag, minor threat, minutemen) into sometimes poppier emotional punk of the bay area (jawbreaker, green day, crimpshrine, mohinder) -into whatever the sam-hell it is today. along the way i discovered a guy named david pajo. mr. pajo is probably best known for his contribution to/creation of the post-rock movement as a member of Louisville band slint (Tweez, Spiderland) and later tortoise (the amazing Millions Now Living Will Never Die and TNT). even though i love and admire all four of those records it wasn't until i heard pajo play alone, stripped bare as papa M that i really fell in love with his music. Live from a Shark's Tank, Whatever Mortal, Papa M Sings, Songs of Mac and his six singles (entitled 1-6, all on drag city) are an exercise in delicate and deliberate song writing that is on the surface completely at odds with my early years as a connoisseur of punk rock. pajo's most recent release is a collection of misfits covers. listening to Scream With Me has filled me with such happiness. maybe it sounds dumb, HAPPINESS and MISFITS unlikely sentence mates - but this record, just feels like going home. it has forced me to contemplate where i came from***** in relation to where i am today. perhaps more importantly it reminds me that there are others out there that have traversed similar territory in terms of music and perhaps more importantly - in life. what's the goddamn dif i guess, right? the songs themselves are triumphant in their ability to transcend the inherent brutality of a misfits song to create something aesthetically beautiful. it's amazing what slowing the pace and tone of a song like I TURNED INTO A MARTIAN will do to the feeling it exudes. as each note crawls by pajo asks us to reexamine danzig's lyrics beneath the cold light of one's lifetime -

possession of the mind is a terrible thing

it's a transformation with an urge to kill

not the body of a man from earth

not the face of the one you love

i turned into a martian

i can't even recall my name

sometimes i never hardly sleep at night

i turned into a martian today

- there is newfound disaffection in the words as pajo sings:

i walk down city streets

in an unsuspecting human world

inhuman in your midst

- i still consider myself to be into punk rock. it's just another kind of punk i guess. another feeling. i think ray barbee sums it up pretty well****: "[punk is more of] a way of thinking...if you've got a heavy metal show and you book a jazz band in there, that's punk." pajo's fragile covers have gotten me thinking about what glenn danzig was trying to get across more than i ever did as a kid. in that way this collection of songs is a completely punk rock record and i am more of a punk now than i was then. fuckin' a.

it's the very best thing i've heard this year. I really can not recommend it strongly enough. It's a limited edition vinyl release (1000 pressed at 45rpm) and comes with free CD of the full record.

Here's the tracklisting:

Angelfuck

Hybrid Moments

Where Eagles Dare

Bullet

Teenagers from Mars

Devil's Whorehouse

I Turned into a Martian

Horror Business

You can and will buy it here.

*

**i was pretty proud of my ability to fix cassette tapes when i was a kid. i wore these fucked up thick plastic glasses when i was young and was always having to use the mini-screwdriver to tighten them and what-not - presumably due to the unnatural weight of the thick lenses. anyway i quickly discovered that this little tool could also be used to dismantle audio cassettes. i would repair a friend's damaged tape in exchange for a dub of some other album. i remember i would lay the tape on the table as if i was about to perform a triple bypass. i think i washed my hands first. i'd open it up and untwist the tape and even do splices with my mom's scotch tape. i remember one time i had this fugazi tape - it wasn't 13 songs because that wasn't on cassette - OH -margin walker it was - i had that all laid out and i need some scotch tape to repair it and i asked my mom - who sent me on this wild search through the basement for a mystery roll of scotch tape that was left over from wrapping christmas presents. i remember searching around, STRESSING that margin walker was splayed out all over the table (should've secured my surgical materials prior to making the first incision) - any old breeze could come by and blow everything all to hell. luckily that didn't happen and i believe the repair was a success. thank god, fugazi tapes were like 6$ and not available at sam goody.

***I also eventually owned a couple of danzig shirts including one from the 2nd record LUCIFUGE that had the outline of an upside-down cross on the front with the danzig skull inside it. On the back were big blood red letters that read GOD DON'T LIKE IT. hahaha, oh man, i'd wear that today if i still had it.

****

*****epicly later'd is a brilliant video series about skateboarders, created by patrick o'dell. ray barbee's episode is here.

Sometimes I Wish We Were an Eagle, Bill Callahan

It’s crazy to think that Bill Callahan put out his first Smog album nearly 20 years ago. To say that his records have had a major impact on me over this span of time would be an epically understated understatement. Over the years Callahan’s prolific and meandering vision has provided me with the soundtrack to days both difficult joyous. Smog has always felt alive to me – heartbreaking bitterness and disparity or blooming positivity and inspiration– there is a humanity to Callahan’s moodiness that is impossible to deny.





It’s tough to imagine getting through some of life’s shittier moments without the support of The Doctor Came At Dawn (1996), Wild Love (1995), and Kicking a Couple Around (1996) crackling in the background.








On the flipside, albums like 1999’s Knock, Knock, and Dongs of Sevotion (2000) are a testament to the simple beauty found just around life’s next corner (B-L-double-oh-D-F-L-oh-double-you, BLOODFLOW! BLOODFLOW!).


Sometimes I Wish We Were an Eagle, Bill Callahan’s second album since shedding the Smog moniker is his most ambitious work to date. Populated with all of the Smog mainstays – acoustic guitar, piano, cello and of course Callahan’s amazing deadpan vocals, Eagle’s instrumentation is focused much tighter than previous efforts.


While some may relish an apparent loss of rawness in his new work –Callahan is simply maturing as an artist. The bent unpredictability of the past has given way to purposeful arrangements and elegance.


Sometimes, I Wish We Were an Eagle contains some of the most amazingly understated guitar work I’ve heard in like, forever.


Country infused acoustics lay atop stringed arrangements to create a comfortingly orchestral musical backdrop.

Callahan’s lyrics are accessible – yet delicate and introspective as evidenced in Eagle's opening track "Jim Cain":

I ended up in search of/ordinary things

like how can a wave/ possibly be

I started running/ and the concrete turned to sand

I started running/ and things didn’t pan out as planned

“All Thoughts Are Prey to Some Beast” is an eastern influenced, dramatic throw back of sorts to the grittiness of Smog’s earlier albums. Lurching drums build below Callahan’s baritone and hints of distortion that recall “When the Power Goes Out” (Julius Caesar, 1993).

Just as the song appears to near full-blown explosion, strings bring ‘er back down to earth and remind us of just how far Mr. Callahan has come.






Originally posted to the KEXP blog.

Your's Truly, The Commuter.

Jason Lytle is the best guy ever. I’ve never once met him and barring a single Grandaddy show many years ago I’ve never even been in the same room with the dude. With that said it feels like Jason is one of my friends. One of my tightest bros from way back when. Lytle is the same as me and those that I’ve known all my life – cut from the same jib, of the same ilk –WHATEVER, the guy constructed a brilliant song around a Neil Blender sample (Grandaddy’s "N. Blender"). Do you know how many times I watched that video when I was a kid?

LOTS.

Hell, I still have the VHS and I’m watching it now.

Despite my affinity for the push-push, skateboarding alone is not nearly enough for me to get fanatical about someone’s music. Over the years Jason Lytle has made some of the most elegantly raw, beautifully honest songs these ears have ever heard. Grandaddy’s second album, The Sophtware Slump is on my ridiculously short list of 100% perfect albums. Lytle’s songs have always been written from an immensely accessible position of solitude and vulnerability (you’ve been there)– his hushed vocal style, soothing keys and ingeniously plopped synthetic blips hang together to create songs you just can’t not like.

Yours Truly, The Commuter finds Lytle on familiar, but shaky ground. The album’s title track begins just as tentatively as Grandaddy’s final album (Just like the Fambly Cat, 2006) ended. The opening notes call to mind the most masterfully synthetic moments of his past while ceremoniously introducing us to the future. When Lytle sings -


Last thing I heard I was left for dead/Well, I could give two shits about what they said/I may be limping but I’m coming home


-he summarily acknowledges the sadness and alienation of his last years in Modesto (Grandaddy’s tumultuous demise, commercial pressures ,$, substance abuse) and announces that despite all the shit he’s been through that yes, he is giving this another go:


All work and no play mighta done me in/So I’m stoked I’m back after where I’ve been


Often seen as downer-rock there is a positive undercurrent to Yours Truly, not seen since the peak of his former band’s success; 2003’s Sumday. That being said the comfort level and pop-confidence of the aforementioned album is greatly understated here.

A lifelong skateboarder – I can’t help but think about blowing out my knee as a kid (Lytle himself tore his ACL skating), the subsequent surgery and recovery. I remember feeling like my leg didn’t belong to me anymore– that my mind knew exactly how to do all the tricks I’d learned before the injury – that I could see myself as I was before but nothing seemed to work. I remember feeling like a lifetime of accomplishments was gone forever. As I got stronger the successes of the past began to find their way the surface and eventually everything came back. It sucked but I’m better for it. Yours Truly, The Commuter is the onset of Jason Lytle’s recovery; limping forward through the crippling injuries of his past - relearning tricks; getting himself healthy. While musically the album is not much of a departure for Lytle it’s obvious that he’s revisiting earlier work in an attempt restabilize and grow. Yours Truly, contains some of the best songs Lytle has ever written. “Birds Encouraged Him” and “Flying Thru Canyons” recall the fuzzy catchiness of 2001’s Through A Frosty Plate Glass EP while the acoustics of “Brand New Sun” and “I Am Lost (And the Moment Cannont Last) fall somewhere between Under the Western Freeway and The Sophtware Slump. When I hear Jason Lytle’s music and look at his art I feel like we grew up together, watching skateboard videos, laughing and dreaming.

I’ve been unemployed since April and this is the only record I’ve bought since.

Highly recommended.

Originally posted here.

Mt. Vernon, WA 2009

Not generally one for hippies or flower power but Mt. Vernon's tulips fields are really quite lovely. I think this was the highest concentration of cameras I've ever seen in one place. It was actually pretty tough to point your camera anywhere without another one staring you right back in the face. There was even a dude with strobes set up just in case you wanted a fancy portrait against the trippy-ass colors.









If you're a fan of color, this is the place for you.

tight bros.

posse.




more bros.



lots and lots to still go through - more to come...BOOSH !

(my flickr)

Brother Ali

Below is a review I wrote for the latest Brother Ali release. A bonus DVD of Ali's Undisputed Truth Tour homecoming performance, interviews, commentary and music videos is also included.

xo.

The Truth is Here – Brother Ali, Rhymesayers Entertainment 2009

Born with a rare genetic condition known as Albinism Ali’s body lacks the pigment that gives skin, hair and eyes their color. An outcast from day one, Brother Ali grew up inside himself, constrained by the seemingly unbreakable walls of social acceptance that stood surrounding him at birth. Ali’s intriguing life as an albino has been the subject of unfailing autofocus within the media. With the arrival of his latest offering, The Truth is Here, we must begin to look beyond the uniform of the soldier to understand the heart and mind of the man. Brother Ali’s rhymes of personal hardship serve as a sonic catalyst for change from within; indeed these are songs for anyone that has dreamt of a mirror less world, hid his eyes with sunglasses or grown a beard to hide his face.

Intelligently structured, The Truth is Here crackles forth with the cinematic arc of brilliant sequel. On the opening track “Real As Can Be,” listeners break bread with Brother Ali as he brings us up to speed on the last year of his life. The conversational tone of this first song welcomes us with the sincerity of dear friend back from a long trip. The effective subtlety of this first act can be directly attributed to the landscape beneath the lyrics. The contribution of longtime Rhymesayers producer Anthony “Ant” Davis cannot be overstated. Ant’s ingenuity for beat-making, sampling and musicianship are akin to that of a psychological gardener. These are not factory beats made in Los Angeles cubicles. These are beats are organic and rich; made by someone that knows the story chapter and verse. Ant’s purposeful and informed backdrops are the soil from which Brother Ali’s rhymes naturally sprout.

On Truth’s ominous second track “Philistine David” Ali relates his personal isolation and indignation with the continuing struggles within the Holy Land. An early convert to Islam, Brother Ali’s dedication to the Qur’an is the backbone of his message. In another artist’s hands these songs might collapse beneath the weight of religious overtones. While references are abundant throughout, Brother Ali walks the religious line with the nimble skill of an educator, offering the source of his inspiration, but leaving the revelation in the hands of the listener.

Each track of The Truth is Here builds toward a triumphant climax. “Good Lord,” a musical high point of the album, gets to Ali’s central premise. When he defiantly asks “How ya gonna hate me for bein’ what God made me?” we feel the years of sadness and disenchantment overcome. At some point in our lives we all feel like we have no one. When it’s dark and things can’t be fixed Brother Ali reminds us “sometimes the hardest thing to be in this world is just yourself.” Brother Ali puts the listener in his shoes just to show we all wear the same size.

Ant’s Bill Withers sample at the head of “Baby Don’t Go” elegantly sets the stage for a playfully poignant reaction to the challenges of being single in your thirties. A follow-up of sorts to “Walking Away” (from 2007’s The Undisputed Truth), Ali uses humor, confidence and soul to positively affect the business end of loneliness. The vantage point of this song shows us that through healthy eyes even that which is furthest from our reach is still attainable. After all, who wouldn’t want to “sit on a wish and let [their] feet dangle?”

Before they were famous Brother Ali and Anthony Davis were fans of music. In even it’s most boastful moments The Truth is Here remains grounded by the pioneers of hip-hop, r&b and funk. Brother Ali’s sharpest corners are softened by Ant’s throw-backy, bass-laden backdrops. “Talkin’ My Shit” and “The Believer (featuring Slug)” are funky takes on classic bravado and comradery.

The very tallest peak of The Truth is Here waits patiently at the tail end of the disc. Those familiar with Atmosphere’s most recent LP When Life Gives You Lemons, You Paint That Shit Gold will notice a common tonal quality between introductory composition “Like the Rest of Us” and Ali’s final track “Begin Here.” Ant’s delicate keys, an understated beat and clap-track create a warm intimacy between Ali and the listener. Often seen bringing the young Faheem on stage for guest rhymes; Ali’s son is the namesake of his message. Translated from the Arabic, Faheem means “one that will understand with ease.” Ali’s mission is to strengthen others with the clarity of mind achieved through hardship and struggle. Brimming with emotion, confidence and sincerity, The Truth is Here see’s Brother Ali and Anthony Davis standing before the open elevator doors of their future.

vince mira live @ kexp 4/29/09

i used to do this thing when i was younger.

no matter what show i went to i always tried to hang around and meet the band after they played. i'm not sure why i did this exactly; it wasn't your typical fan-out scenario:

i wasn't trying to sneak backstage to catch a whif of the culture club or have a beer with mick jagger -i was seeing shows that were small. if the bands at these shows had any merch they were usually trying to hawk it themselves right off stage. if there was a stage.



i'm sure alot of kids that grew up listening to punk and it's subsidiaries probably did this. the small show-culture seems to nurture this kind of behavior.




i feel fortunate to have learned about music in this way.



i found skateboarding and punk rock which led me to california, which led to free shows in libraries, basements and living rooms. microphones held together with duct tape and couches stacked on top of each other.

the intimacy of it all just made it feel so special. this is ours. it's weird, knowing i could go watch a favorite band play then tell them how it impacted me completely roped me into music. putting eyes, voices and mannerisms to these songs somehow made the music mine. made it real.





somewhere along the line i started going to bigger shows and seeing bands that were less likely to mingle. maybe i became less likely to mingle. adult mingling has never been my forte. eventually i stopped shaking hands with bands. even still, there is a thread of those early years that still flows through my choices today. sure i listen to david bowie and morrissey but most of the music i latch onto - the stuff i dig my hooks into - is made by real people.

shooting musicians in the kexp studios has made realize all of this. that little studio could be a basement or living room. i think i shook 17 year old vince mira's hand at least twice. this kid is real. and for real.

if you haven't heard of vince you should check out his website here. his is one of those "uhm, wait that voice comes out of you?" type situations.



i was really glad to hear him play almost entirely original compositions. if you are fortunate enough to live in the pacific northwest, vince plays every Tuesday (for now) at the Can-Can in Seattle.

He is also playing this year's Sasquatch Festival - attached are some photos from Wednesday's session. it was awesome.

X @ The Showbox, 4/10/09

Last Friday I got the opportunity to see one of the most important and influential bands of all time. I’m not going to pretend to be some kind of lifelong X-super fan. I started listening to them so recently that when I bought their seminal album (LOS ANGELES) the waify Jacqueline-Black behind the counter looked down at me and asked “You don’t already have this?”

Built in part on X’s foundation, one of Seattle’s funnest bands to watch, The Heels opened the night.






















This band consistently blows me away with its insane combination of loud clothes, plush horses and rrrrrraw garage sound.

Bring (2) parts Joan Jett to a boil.

Stir in (1) part Billy Childish in stilettos and fishnets.

Add (3) parts pure attitude and you got yourself one hell of a twangy meal bubbling over into your lap.

These ladies (and one guy) seriously bring the pain. The best kind of pain. The kind that keeps you coming back for more.

You will see them. You will like the pain. You will ask for more.

Watching X play in 2009 it is impossible to deny their impact on the countless incarnations of punk, hardcore and indie rock that have I have followed my entire life. Exene and John Doe’s poetic twist on punk rock laid the sonic framework for Sonic Youth’s most obtuse to Green Day’s most mainstream.

By 1977 punk rock was decimating the West Coast with hard-hitting aggressive songwriting that would become eventually become the framework for countless generations to come. Perhaps the most influential band to rise up from the Los Angeles scene, X was beating its unorthodox brand of urban-art-punk upside the skulls of fans long before I took my first steps. (ok, not that long – I’m old. )

X’s sound and influence can undoubtedly be credited to its diversity of players. Billy Zoom’s rockabilly touches infused Doe and Exene’s off kilter melodies jibe perfectly with DJ Bonebrake’s pummeling percussion to create a perfect storm of colliding influences. That being said, live Friday night The Showbox stage and that band belonged to X’s rhythm section. DJ’s hard-charging beats filled the air like drums are supposed to. Never for an instant did it feel like these songs could fall apart. At age 55 John Doe played and sang with a ferocity that could inspire a fresh-faced legion of Mike Watt’s to take up arms. To say he was really givin’er would be an understatement of epic proportions.

Do you play like that every night John?

I would be seriously freaked out if my Dad was sweating as hard as you were. Amazing.

I was a little disappointed with Exene and Zoom’s energy (or lack thereof) on stage. Don’t get me wrong Zoom played a flawless set with an enormous grin on his face. Unfortunately the grin was so creepy I had to look away (sorry Billy, I know it’s your thing and the ladies seemed receptive so more power to ya). Exene was the least animated of the crew but still found a way to come alive at all the right moments.

Seeing X power through a set-list chosen by their fans, it became clear that each of the personalities onstage was very different. Each of these players has seen a lot of life in the years following their initial successes. It is these very differences that made X so unique to begin with; and it’s the reason it still works today. If you get the chance, buy the ticket.