It was as if the rural communities of Minnesota and Wisconsin took a giant crap all over downtown Minneapolis on Friday night. I’ll paint for you a simple picture of the folks in attendance: Old. Fat. Ugly. White. You might laugh at me, but I was actually a little surprised by this. I have seen the Crüe a few times in the last six or seven years and the crowd is usually a little more, ah, current. At one point the GF told me it would look less-obvious that I was in awe of these creatures, if I was actually talking to her while observing them, rather than standing there— jaw on the floor, shaking my head in disbelief.
Coors Lights were eight bucks a pop... Continue reading here.
In terms of underground punk, there has been a noticeable trend lately towards a less-produced sound—a focus more on rawness and distortion, than on cleanliness. Such is the case with this Gainesville, FL four piece’s impressive new 7”. There is an obstinate noisiness present throughout End of the Line—blown-out, screaming vocals, guitars and bass dripping with reverb, and severe blast beat drums—that will leave the listener feeling dizzy, exhausted, and quite possibly looking for a Xanax. Yes, played at the proper volume (loud, duh), this stuff is totally capable of triggering a panic attack. ...Read the rest of the review here.
The fine folks at MaximumRocknRoll reviewed HotDogDayz #2 in their latest issue. A few inaccuracies though--it is issue #2, not #1 and it is $5 donation, not free...unless you are broke, want to trade, or ask nicely. We still have some of these left. Email one of us at email@example.com or firstname.lastname@example.org or simply use the PayPal link at the top right of this here blaaaarg.
The Gateway District live, Hexagon Bar, Mpls, MN, 6/23/11
You know those times; you're standing alone in a dingy bar, watching a really great band--maybe you've had a few...or a few too many--and suddenly a wave of sentimentality comes crashing down onto you, crippling your emotional coping capability, leaving you no choice to but to face the fact that perhaps you'll never see those certain someones again--be it your running mates from the salad days or the ones-that-got-away--and that even if you did, it wouldn't be like it was back then, and then you decide it's a good time to start sending out text messages to the folks in question. Oh, that's never happened to you? Huh. Well if it did, odds are it was while you were singing along to The Gateway District.
Last night's crowd at the Hex was sparse to say the least. Perhaps it was the bubblegum garage pop of Oakland, CA's overrated and gimmicky No Bunny, taking place across the river at The Turf Club (highly unlikely), or maybe it was because--depending on if you still look at MySpace band pages or not--you didn't even know GD was even playing. (Thank gawd for Facebook updates, amirite? Nah, JK.) Even with the meager audience The Gateway District did what they always do best--have a blast playing good-time, catchy pop punk. As usual it was all smiles on stage between the two former Salteens, Carrie and Sturgeon; and those vibes extended to us, making it easy to have just as much fun as they were. Like the last few times I've seen GD, there were the same three or four superfans right up front, singing along. I know they are just having a good time and who am I to knock them for that, but at certain point it becomes a little obnoxious and quite frankly, annoying. You're not in the band. GD played all the older ones from Some Days You Got the Thunder and a bunch songs that I didn't recognize, that I assume are from the brand new record, Perfect's Gonna Fail. They were by far the most captivating band to play last night, as evidenced by their set being the only time the band room of the Hex was somewhat full.
For loner dudes like me, the only downside to seeing the Gateway District play is that it has to end at some point. And then you are left, an emotional wreck, nostalgic for days (and people) gone by, trying to hide under the brim of a tightly pulled Twins cap, staring at your phone, wondering what those certain someones are up to, and shooting off ill-advised text messages to them, which will no-doubt go unanswered, prompting you to go home and spend the late-night hours YouTubing videos the 'Mats performing "Answering Machine."
The Tribe documentary comes out in a couple of weeks. Apparently everyone involved with this flick is pissed off at each other, playing a game of he-said-she-said. Who cares! Here's hoping this comes to the TC. It's bound to bring back a lot of memories...
It's no secret, Tribe was the shit. I still remember the first time I heard of them--Yo! MTV Raps with Ed Lover and Doctor Dre, all day! The video was for "I Left My Wallet In El Segundo" and I knew immediately that I had to have it. I spent more than a few summer days walking the shores of Lake Bemidji and Nymore (what'up Nymore!) with a deuce-deuce of Mickey's in a paper bag, rocking People's Instinctive Travels and Paths of Rhythm or Low End Theory cassettes on my knockoff Walkman. This was well after Midnight Marauders was out on CD, but my broke ass still didn't have a CD Walkman. I had the pleasure of seeing them three different summers--Lollapalooza in '94, Smokin' Grooves in '96, and opening for the Beastie Boys on the Hello Nasty tour. You know, like, back before you were born and shit.
And let's not forget Michael Rapaport has been down with hip-hop since way back. Zebrahead anyone? Shit, that man named one of his kids after Maseo from De La Soul. It's comical to think about now, but that shit--white kids into hip-hop--was kind of controversial back in the day. And I can tell you from experience, it wasn't easy. (Shout outs to my old-school Bigfork "wiggers.") Anyone remember Chris Mullin shouting out Brand Nubian in 1990? I do.
I also remember a living room, the smell of herb hanging heavy in the air, a ridiculous amount of blunts being passed, and "Jam" from Beats, Rhymes and Life on the stereo; everyone rappin' along, "It was a Friday afternoon in the middle of June/Heineken bottle caps and the aroma of boom...Then he introduced me to that hydro smoke/I took one toke/Yo, I almost choked."
As it turns out, Cülo are actually four white dudes from Elgin, IL—technically a suburb. I have to admit: a younger, idealistically naive version of me very well may have dismissed a band based on such knowledge. Now, as a seasoned veteran of this game, I can proclaim confidently (and with only a tiny percentage of irony): the suburbs got it goin’ on! ...Read the rest of the review here.
Last Sunday we went to the Dirty Biker Motorcycle Shop for a party aptly titled, Dirty Biker Party. Billed as a "Motorcycle and Metal Show," it was a full day of music, BBQ, beer, and, of course, motorcycles. Unfortunately, the nice weather was too nice for people to not be out riding, which meant their were not as many cycles in the lot as they had hoped. But there were still a handful to check out...if you dare get near them. (Not sure if you're aware of this, but bikers can be kind of intimidating.) A total of five bands, spanning the metal spectrum, tore it up inside the shop, while various volunteers kept the grill rolling all day outside. And everything was complimentary to boot. There was a modest but enthusiastic crowd in attendance—not bad for an event in a city ripe with Memorial Day options for those not camping or on the road. We know we must have had a great time because we woke up with sore necks from headbanging and hangovers from, well, you know what causes hangovers.
We got a chance to catch up with Jason Austin, owner and operator, of the upstart Dirty Biker Motorcycles, to chat about the shop and the party...
HDD: Tell me a little bit about Dirty Biker. You’re a new shop—when did you start?
Jason Austin: We opened up shop in the spring of 2011.
What’s your deal? Like, what services and/or products do you offer?
We specialize in service/repairs for all Harley Davidson, American V-Twin custom motorcycles and select import bobbers and choppers. We also buy and sell new and used parts for these types of bikes. We will also do motorcycle apparel. As well, we do house calls for motorcycle services and simple repair, and towing, detailing, storage, and consignment sales of motorcycles.
How did you come up with the idea for the party this past weekend? What inspired that?
It came from a vision I continually get when I look in my parking lot—it screams, "If you throw it, they will come.” I have all this space; I may as well use it. This shop is more than just a business to me—it’s about building off of the local art and music scene and incorporating it into the motorcycle scene. And I guess the party was me making a move on that.
Nice. We look at our bicycles as pieces of art—the way people personalize their fixies and whatnot. Motorcycles—especially customs—are pieces of art too.
I think of these bikes as art that people are building in their homes or garages. I like being a part of that scene. It’s where I get the inspiration to build myself a custom bobber or chopper.
The party was a success, wouldn’t you say? Both kegs were killed and all the food was gone by the time the last band finished up.
The party was success in my mind even if there were more cars in the lot than motorcycles. The people that were here thoroughly enjoyed themselves and were appreciative of what I am trying to do down here.
I assume you look forward to having more events like this one.
I plan on having another party real soon. I want to do some art shows as well. Dirty Biker is not just a motorcycle shop to me—it’s an art gallery, it’s a music venue, and it’s a place to both give and receive inspiration.
Dirty Biker Motorcycle Shop 1117 Washington Ave S (Next to Grumpy's) Minneapolis, MN
Shop Hours: Mon - Sat, 11am-7pm during the riding season.