Try Me Out Sometime...

Saw this band at the Bottle with Mitchell, Jeff and a friend of Mitchell's whose name I forgot.

They were real good.  And the album is a real scruffy charmer.  I am seriously considering going back to the Bottle on Friday April 5 when they swing back through...

Hanging on the telephone...

This post is about THE CALL.  Whether or not you even get the call AND just as important, how you answer it. 

I am speaking, of course, of the call to Rock. 

This past Tuesday I texted my buddies Trocc, SD and Barsk at 5 pm. Quittin' Time.   See, SUN ARAW was playing at the Empty Bottle that very same night. I had a bit of a wild hair and I wondered if there were any takers.  

I dig what I have heard of Sun Araw but I have kept him somewhat at arm's length because of his prodigious recorded output which can sometimes be anathema to a collector like myself with a strong completist streak.  My wallet can only  withstand so many bands like White Hills at one time. 

The replies were swift and regretful.  No takers for the spontaneous rock out. 

I felt that weird mixture of "aw shucks" and relief.  I wouldn't be attending a concert tonight so my wild hair (in)groaned.  But my future Weds. morning self was just as expressive with gratitude.   

Much later that night, I was watching The Walking Dead with my sweetheart.    I get a call from my friend, Mr. Kite.  

It is 11:50 pm.  A pivotal scene is playing out and a herd of zombies are traipsing towards the farm.  There is no way I am gonna pause the program to answer what could be a butt dial.  A minute later my phone signals that a message has been left. 

12:30 pm.  I am have just climbed into bed.  I decide to listen to Mr. Kite's message before turning in.

It was a spontaneous call to rock out.  That night.  Starting at 2:30 am at the House of Blues - Prince was getting a do-over for his botched aftershow performance the night before.  Rahm Emmanuel had even given permission to the club to break curfew if necessary.  

Now, Mr. Kite is practically the Mayor of the House of Blues.  You roll in with him and You. Are. Set. Up.   Admission, Seating, Drinks - it all just happens without you ever having to dip into your wallet (except to tip your servers, of course).  

The offer is tempting.  It is just so crazy that I wonder what it kind of show it might be.  Mr. Kite lays out the rationale quickly in his voicemail; You see,  the newspaper reviews of his Monday night show at the United Center were none too kind.  Prince has something to prove tonight (which was actually technically going to be very early in the morning). 

But I am in my pajamas.  Teeth have been brushed.  The choice was set before I even knew that there was a decision to be made.  

It was truly an honor just to get the call.  That has got to be a rarefied list of people that you will call at midnight to say "Hey! Do you wanna come on into the city and rock until DAWN?"   

feedtime

Last night I went and saw a truly sublime performance with SD and G$. Feedtime (aka feedtime) got their start in Australia during the late 70s.

I never heard of them until 2012 and likely neither did you. This is the type of discovery that makes music reissues so thrilling.

Feedtime is a trio that plays swampy blues punk. Both the guitarist and the bassist regularly employ a slide. It is caveman-ish and cathartic. It is a sound as old as the hills. But this trio took this limited sonic palette and they just OWNED it.

Bill Meyer, critic for the Chicago Reader explains them this way: "Imagine if Wire had met in shop class instead of art school and loved Blind Willie Johnson as much as Eno."

In hindsight, this is a classic case of a band just not getting their due respect.

Not that they seemed bitter at all last night at the Empty Bottle playing to a half empty room at $10 a head. In fact, they just appeared to be having the time of their lives playing out before an appreciative audience.

The performance wasn't showy, it wasn't contrived, but damn if it wasn't effective at being evocative of every menacing rumble that came before (i.e. Link Wray) and after (i.e. Mudhoney, whose lifelong fandom likely instigated this reissue).

Listen to Mark Arm's favorite feedtime tracks below and then do yourself a favor and seek out the box set - it is only $35 on Amazon for four LPs.