True Sons of Thunder rocking it with a yoga-savvy mannequin
Memphis and music are synonymous, yes. But for many people, Memphis means motown and Stax or Elvis and Sun. About three decades ago, another sound—rawer and ruder—began to fester in the noxious, sun-blanched fumes of the Mississippi. And a dive called the Antenna Club—Memphis’s answer to CBGB’s—firmly pinned River City on the word-of-mouth-and-mail (wtf, long distance calls were expensive!) punk rock touring map. Now the legacy fuels Goner Records, Gonerfest and a slate of shows that, being three hours away and working a day job, I mostly miss. Big sad sigh. Continue reading →
“The youth today think this way: let me live my life today, and I don’t care if you kill me tomorrow,” said Mohammed Fathi, a 23-year-old friend of Mr. Sabr’s at the shoe store. “Next year isn’t important. All I’m thinking about is getting by today.”
Are we sure this didn’t come from a Cometbus zine, circa 1985?
**This interview was first published on my Juxtapoz blog, but since the link is broken, I’m putting the whole thing here.
This interview is outrageously old. My apologies—I’ve been so busy, I haven’t had time to post it. But a little sunny surf in dreary December isn’t so bad, eh?
In July, Bombón (marshmallow in Spanish) played Jackson, Mississippi—part of their first tour ever!—and I snagged them for a chat after the after-show Waffle House refueling.
Bombón is: Paloma Bañuelos on bass, Jerico Campbell on drums and Angela Ramos on guitar. They’re a surf trio hailing from the notorious punk tradition of San Pedro, California. Jerico and Paloma grew up in San Pedro, Angela in Anaheim, and now all three ladies live in a big house on 15th Street—along with the band Killer Dreamer—that doubles as a live venue and the Cali Mucho studio and screen-print shop.
Bombón traveled with Hippie Riot from San Pedro and Alabama’s Rise Up Howling Werewolf and/or Pine Hill Haints—whichever Jamie Barrier-fronted band felt like playing that night. On the road, the ladies hawked their gorgeous (aurally and visually) debut LP, Las Chicas del Bombón, recorded on 1/2-inch tape at Cali Mucho. Hmn…did somebody say perfect holiday gift?
On one of my recent trips to Atlanta, I had a frank conversation with Kelly Teasley and Maggie White, the co-proprietors of (the charming, fantastic, fairy-dust magical) Young Blood Gallery and Boutique, as featured in the book and doc Handmade Nation. Highlights include how to be a good neighbor, how to found a punk rock gallery and the conflict that comes with transforming that space into a financially sustainable entity, the awkwardness of becoming a recruiting grounds for Urban Outfitters, and the true-life rags-to-riches story of Jolene, the three-legged-cat.
The interview is kind of mammoth, but these ladies were so forthcoming and informative that I want to post it all. So I’m splitting it into three parts. Check back for the rest soon! For now, head over to Juxtapoz to read Part 1.
So Saturday I rode down to Jackson with Ghosthand, some garage-rockabilly guys out of Columbus, Mississippi…although really, they should be called Black Black Evil Eye (maybe Ming Donkey is working on this?) We were riding in Bryan’s van–no seatbelts, no AC, just good conversation, gorgeous skies and a gnarly storm (did I mention, no windshield wipers?)…
Although Ming Donkey wouldn’t know, since he slept through the storm.
Then at Hal & Mal’s, Ghosthand and the Dots had to deal with the problem of standing puddles on the same patio where they needed to run wires. Ming Donkey disappeared to make a set list, and I rocked out to the latest incarnation of the Party Dots–the wife and husband duo (Daphne and Marsh Nabors…unless they’re brother and sister, hmn…) of the Goner Records punk trio the Overnight Lows. “We tried not to let Marsh drink too much before leaving the house,” Chrissy, Daphne’s bandmate in the girl-garage outfit Wild Emotions, whispered to me as we bounced in tandem. The Dots got through most of a set before Marsh started dropping notes and Daphne started sighing into the mic–”Are we gonna actually play this one, Marsh?” All I could think, was Our Band Could Be Your Life. And it is. YOUR life, Bryan Leslie. Continue reading →