Page 24 - the NOISE APril 2013

People often ask me — they say, “Frank, how come you like Arizona so much? How come you live in Arizona?”
And I say it’s the sunsets. And they say, “Really?” And I say, no, not really. And they say, “How come, then?”
And I say, I don’t know, man. I just like it here. It’s weird here. And we get a lot of bad press, so it’s kind of like a secret. It’s like Texas, but with none of the hype. It’s like Utah with half the Mormons. It’s like Colorado without the free weed, and it’s like California, without the beaches. But one day we’ll have those beaches. And then we’ll have the traffic.
And they say, “What’s your favorite city in Arizona?” And I say, Show Low.
And they say, “Really?”
And I say, hell no. And they say, “Which one, then?” And I say, “I don’t f*ckin’ know. All of them.”
And they say, “What do you mean?”
And I give em some treatise on how the pool of creativity is a small one, though always growing, we got so many folks moving to Portland, and Brooklyn and wherever else you can just get your culture handed to you like your gourmet coffee beverage, that it seems like the only way it works is to think of it as one town. And then if I’ve been drinking, which is all the time, I get a little bitter and say that I run into so many people in, say, Tucson, or Prescott, that don’t know who Joe Arpaio is, and I’m like, Are you kidding me?
And then, if they’ve been drinking, which is most of the time, they might get to, “What’s your favorite Arizona band of all time?”
herbcraft; thee oh Sees
anybody. He’s just dancing. Well, this whole album is like what that guy is hearing. It goes by in that hallucinated smoky haze. Some of it resembles the British freak folk of Pentangle and some of it vaguely resembles Can’s most abstracted drones. Wizards, fairies, space ships and an inward journey to some- where resembling Oz (not the prison) and that land in the Point.
But then, you kind of step back for a moment and realize, hey, these songs aren’t all that great. That’s harshing on all the mellow, and perhaps I’m not taking this for what it is — epic songscapes, but unless you’re that guy at the show in Flagstaff, dancing your eyeballs off, this might get a little, well, monotonous perhaps. The sounds are all wonderful though. Good vibes, bro. Good vibes.
thee oh sees
Floating Coffin
castle Face
And I’m like, Jimmy Eat World, bro. And they’re like, “Really?”
And I’m like, hell no, man. Hell no.
reVieW’D
herbcraft
The Astral Body Electric
How to write an Oh Sees music review:
The prolific John Dwyer has shat out yet another diamond. And this one apparently floats. Since Pink and Brown laid their garage art rock spazz attacks to vinyl and compact disc, then split in two in the early aughts or late 90s or whenever it was, Dwyer has been spewing out record after amazing record; first with the Coachwhips, who managed to record their en- tire catalogue at top distorto party-inspiring volume to Thee Oh Sees precursor, OCS, which went 180 degrees in the other direction. A haunting falsetto goth folk that has morphed and settled warmly in the middle of the ditch, in the land of gold diamond psychedelic Nuggets. (We don’t need to dis- cuss Zeigenbock Kopf, do we?) And with this, Thee Oh Sees’s not-first or second or third record, everything seems to be on a nice even rock-party keel. On “Strawberries 1 + 2” they actu- ally slow it down. You can smell the weed smoke in the tight enclosed space that is like, or is, a coffin. “Maze Fancier” has such a sweet Feelies vibe. Riff stolen outright, with no shame. And there’s like eight more rockers on here! “Toe Cutter- Thumbuster” features (a fantastic verb for any music review) very heavy riffage and that tasty slap back delay reverb that warms the Oh Sees catalogue so thoroughly. “No Spell” is an almost-prog kraut-rock psychedelic super hit.
The last time Dwyer hit the northland (don’t call it that!), he showed up at Macy’s European Coffee House over an hour late and the small crowd had already split, but the weirdoes, drunks, and the promoter stayed — a handful total. An eve- ning of half magic, half disaster; Dwyer’s best records seem to have that same quality. Also, the energy of a healthy eight- year-old kid on three candy bars worth of sugar. Coffin could be floating Dwyer and company toward a fantastic rock ca- reer, or a strong turn toward garage rock middle-of-the-road mediocre-ville. Time shall tell.
— Lungbutter Pittsburgh
— Chipotle Frank
As you can imagine from cover, moniker of album and band, this is some tripped out psychedelic fun with glorious stoner vibes dripping, or pluming rather, off of every note. The over
12minute “A Knock at the Door in Your Mind” features more cowbell than “Don’t Fear the Reaper” and just barely manages to hold the song together through what could probably be described as the auditory equivalent of a bad trip, as cliché as that is, and slowly becomes...
You know that one guy that’s at the bar shows in Flagstaff? Now he’s usually a different guy every night, but he’s just dancing his face off, even when the song stops, he’s just danc- ing and having a great time. You’ve seen this guy, right? It’s al- ways just the one guy. And he’s usually not hanging out with
jjjj
Woodsist
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24 • APRIL 2013 • the NOISE arts & news • thenoise.us