Stevie Ray Vaughan—why do people give a shit about this guy? Somebody posted tracks on YouTube from the unreleased album that Double Trouble recorded here in Nashville with Cowboy Jack Clement in '78. I watched 'em in hopes that maybe this would be the occasion where it "clicked" and I would finally understand why people get so excited about the Patron Saint of Boring Bar Bands. Wrong. After giving it a good earnest effort, I still don't see what the big fucking deal is. Sure, he can play guitar alright, but the songs are some of the most tepid, generic excuses for blues that were ever wrought to vinyl. There's no soul at all in the tunes, and even the involvement of one of my all time favorite record-biz crazies, Cowboy Jack, didn't seem to elevate them beyond the "Dad and his friends are drunk in the basement, again" vibe. Will Somebody please explain what the hell I'm missing here?
I guess it makes sense that an ad looking for a death-metal drummer would know it's just better to cut to the chase and breathlessly punch through their prerequisites seeing as how death metal is like pretty effing fast and what's the point in taking a breather when you're just going to endlessly pummel people with your breakneck speeds and guttural growls and fierce-ass pounding drummer's sonic assault in your brain with a vengeance! Double kick.
hey what's up everyone im charles a death metal vocalist forming a band from the ground up i have a one guitarist at the moment and now is seeking another one plus im seeking a drummer double bass is must we are very serious about this we want someone who is dependable and can come to every practice we have a practice room which is located in antioch tennessee we have songs written we just need to complete the following slots if u are really interested and want to audition for us call me at 615 XXX XXXX or send me a email please all we ask is be deticated and want to make music your life. if u don't want this please do not waste our time thanks.
You've no doubt heard of hair-metal supergroup Scrap Metal, featuring former puff-metal dudes Gunnar & Matthew Nelson (of Nelson), Mark Slaughter (Slaughter) and Kelly Keagy (Night Ranger). With the exception of Matthew Nelson, who lives in L.A., all those other dudes live here. But when I heard not only that Kip Winger of Winger would be joining the boys for a show (opening with an acoustic set), but that he also lives in Nashville, I just couldn't believe it. He's also opening for Foreigner at the Wildhorse on Oct. 8.
Yes, Nashville is a haven for former glam-metal frontmen. It would be easy to bray at these one-hit or one-genre wonders, but I try to resist that. Because if you follow popular music for more than six months, you know that nearly all of it has a limited shelf life. And who saw grunge coming? Everyone was too busy squirting whipped cream onto chicks with their asses hanging out of Daisy Dukes to notice.
But, seriously, Kip Winger? Winger was the pretty boy on bass with a bunch of hired guns behind him—someone even people who were actually into hair metal's preening and posturing found hard to take seriously. I would know, because I was right there at the skating rink when these sorts of monumental musical shifts were being hashed out. It was a weird time to come into pop music, because if, like me, you heard hair metal before punk or real metal, it was easy to believe that this screechy, oversexed, glammed-up pomp for big-haired whores was deeply, deeply rebellious. Also, I had an influential older sister offering a steady diet of the likes of Ratt.
But anyhoo, in 1988, Winger unleashed a little song called "Seventeen," (clip above) which I can pretty much credit with my rush to the dial in a desperate search for anything not involving a nearly 30-something dude crooning about how a 17-year-old will "show you love / like you've never seen." Ewww. True, I had earnestly appreciated ballads by Skid Row, but Winger was where I drew the line. Thank God for college radio.
Hometown heroes and purveyors of Hat-Rock The Raconteurs are playing The Ryman tonight with The Kills. Yes, tickets have been sold out for weeks, but 30+ folks are looking to sell you theirs if you're willing to shell out some serious coin. And if not, at least you can check out video/audio from some recent dates on the newish live section of their website.
So the bailout plan didn't pass and it's anyone's guess which bank will collapse next. But why bother trying to make sense of the whole credit default swap thing when you can just pull your money out of your mattress and dance your cares away? OK, so maybe not. But it's two-for-ones.
I was wondering why the air seemed a bit sleazier this morning, and now I know why. Beverly Keel—whom I still resent for taking a sabbatical from MTSU in '05 and leaving me with the worst adjunct PR professor ever—is reporting that Brett Michaels will be filming Rock of Love today at the Wildhorse. (Michaels also lived in Nashville in the late '90s while filming the movie A Letter From Death Row.)
Make sure you bring an umbrella if you head down to Lower Broad, because there's a 50% chance of herpagonosyphilis. You've been warned.
Photo by Tanya Wright
Check out more photos at nashvillescene.com.
We’ll be honest with you: There were times this weekend where we felt like Nero—rockin’ a B-boy stance as Rome burned. Between Gas-pocalypse, Finance-ageddon and a so-so presidential debate, our “party for the right to fight” spirit had been kinda drained.
But the turbulent socio-political climate could have been why the 5 Points Invasion art show at Gallery East was such a laid-back spot to be on Saturday night. Sure, we'd hoped for more off-the-chain revelry due to the presence of Ali Shaheed Muhammad, the legendary DJ/producer from A Tribe Called Quest, but the group head-nod therapy was just what the doctor ordered.
First and foremost, you gotta read the latest entry on the Now Again Records blog. It's basically DJ Egon waxing rhapsodic about record shopping here in Nashville and at Lawrence Brothers in particular. It's a beautiful piece about the joys of musical exploration and it's basically ruined my work day because now all I want to do is immerse myself in seas of vinyl. I haven't been on a good diggin' mission in months, due mostly to my own sloth and a misguided attempt at "adult priorities." And that essay was just like salt in a wound. If you've got a thing for hunting down dusty, obscure gems, then it's a must read.
Also, if you like the rap and the graffitti and the whatnot, make sure to haul your ass over to Gallery East in East Nashville tommorrow night to catch Ali Shaheed Muhammad, the legendary DJ/Producer from Tribe Called Quest. The night starts at 5 p.m. with an art show by local spray-can wizards Workforce Rebellion (those resposible for that rad Biz Markie print up top) and then the music kicks off at 9. Wick-it, Kidsmeal and the Lovenoise Soundsystem warm it up for the Midnight Marauder.
Check the WR blog for deatils, and have a helluva weekend.
Nearly two months after teen punks Be Your Own Pet announced their breakup, they're finally hauling the last of their merch out for a virtual yard sale. If you were into the band, this would be a chance to get a cool new 7-inch. There are four versions, each with a different band member on the front and each with a different selection of tunes. If you're not into the band, just go ahead and start whinin'.
$20 gets you a free tour poster; versions after the jump.
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