Sauce. The word alone is enough to make a food lover yearn for a delicious meal. It sets the senses on high alert and the imagination afire. To name your restaurant Sauce is brilliant, enticing and sets the expectations high when you serve Italian food. Sauce Spirits & Soundbar on the corner of Lake and Lyndale in Uptown certainly lives up to its tantalizing name. The secret is that the sauce, at Sauce, is an authentic Italian recipe from the restaurateur’s grandma Delia, that has been passed down in the Panebianco family for generations.

Mike Riehle, the owner of Sauce, is from northern Minnesota, near Grand Rapids, and his hospitality is key to the friendly vibe everyone can feel once they enter the restaurant.

Perusing the menu, a fine selection of starters, sandwiches, pizza, pasta and all day breakfast, made it difficult to decide, since it all looks and sounds so delicious, all I knew was that I had to taste this soon-to-be famous sauce. I decided on the three cheese ravioli and my friends ordered the lasagna Adelia and their signature dish, rigatoni calabresa. All three were topped with the mouth watering Panebianco sauce, which we decided was the perfect blend of sweet and spicy. Much to the delight of one heartburn sufferer, this sauce caused No Pain! He can enjoy Italian food again.

The service was a wonderful surprise as well. The welcoming, neighborhood feel was evident from the day manager Liz, to the ecentric Monday night trivia host Lyle, (a decades-long neighborhood scene vet who is more than happy to share a story or two over a glass of Absynthe), and certainly the excellent wait staff. During dinner, I could see from the happy faces all around the room, that everyone was well attended to throughout their meal. Our server knew her stuff and delivered everything promptly, and with a sincere smile. The meal included some fabulous homemade bread served warm with olive oil and wine for dipping.

I tried to find something to be critical about but to no avail. From the starter of parmesan french fries, to the carrot cake (with no raisins, much to my delight) right down to the killer coffee, everything makes me want to come back for more.

The owner takes great pride not only in the food, and grandma’s secret sauce, but in creating an environment that encourages friends to gather, relax and enjoy life. The large windows invite the neighborhood scene into the space, and with three rooms to be seated in you can choose an intimate dining experience all the way to a party at the bar.

Sauce is destined to become a landmark for the next generation of music, food and art lovers in the Twin Cities. It is the dream of Mike Riehle and his life-long friend and manager Dave Cartwright, to create an establishment that combines great food, music, wine and spirits in an environment that embraces and supports the community and local artists of all kinds.

Community involvement is the cornerstone to the mission at Sauce, with the introduction of live music, featuring a wide variety of local and regional acts seven nights a week, and local visual artists exhibiting their work in The Gallery @ Sauce. The artwork is rotated quarterly to allow a number of local artist an opportunity to exhibit their work.

One novel item is their CD vending machine filled with local artist’s discs at great prices! Be sure to check out some new bands albums and their live shows. The venue’s talented booking agents, Joe Winterer and Matt Johnson, have made Sauce THE place for the hottest local bands, hip hop artists, and Dj’s to perform in town. In fact, every Tuesday night Susstones DJ Marc “the Guv” takes over to spin the tunes. This year, Sauce is sponsoring the Lyndale Block Party on May 16 2010, which will surely be a huge success, so mark your calendar now. In the meantime, check out their website at: www.spiritsandsound.com for their great happy hour deals, full menu, concert calendar and special events.

Sauce Spirits & Soundbar
3001/3005 Lyndale Ave S
Mpls MN 55408
612.822.6000
Free Parking in lot on south side of the building
www.spiritsandsound.com
www.myspace.com/saucempls

-Cait Arneson

photos by Jay Smiley

by:Tom Hallett

“As a youngster,” recalls former Replacements’ drummer-turned-painter Chris Mars in a recent interview with ‘Round The Dial Magazine, “…many things inspired me in a pure, visual sense… the letter “P” of our World Book encyclopedia set – I would repeatedly go to the “Paintings” section, and study them; I would notice how light and atmosphere would play off of water and various textured surfaces in nature; how clouds and trees grew and formed; how thunderstorms would suddenly alter and blacken out the day… “

Like the majority of Mars’ oil-based work- of which nearly two dozen examples are currently on display at The Phipps Center For The Arts in Hudson, Wisconsin- that short, seemingly innocuous recollection is fairly packed to the brim with deeper meanings, hidden truths, and mysterious, unanswered questions; Why was a healthy, suburban pre-schooler sitting around the house reading an encyclopedia instead of building tree forts or playing cops and robbers outside with other boys his age? What drew him to the painting section, rife with still, silent images of a world that existed right outside of his own front door? And why was he so strongly drawn to threatening, nightmarish scenarios such as thunderstorms “…suddenly alter(ing) and blacken(ing) out the day(s)?

The youngest of seven children, Mars was born in Minneapolis in 1961- a place in time now dubbed “the weird old America,” a reference to the seemingly-innocent, life-in-black-and-white period this country experienced at the time. But as Chris, the youngest of Constance and Leroy’s brood discovered, innocence and ignorance oftentimes aren’t all that different from one another. When he was just five years old, doctors diagnosed his eldest brother, Joe, with a “nervous breakdown” and locked him up at the St. Cloud Mental Hospital.

Corporatocracy Queen

“I was aware of Joe’s problems from a very early age,” Mars says now, “as he had them off and on throughout my childhood and adolescence. He would be sent away for periods of time to hospitals and institutions. This stigmatized him amongst his friends and sadly even within our family to a certain extent. It was never fully talked about or understood; we would try to reach and comfort him when he went through these periods, though we were not equipped with the proper tools to fully understand his schizophrenia – that word wasn’t even used until much later,”A Nervous Breakdown” was the usual reference. A sense of denial set in. If it was confusing for those around Joe, I can’t imagine how depressing, frightening and confusing it was for him. I had a good relationship with Joe, he is the eldest of the boys, my oldest brother. He has a good heart and a good sense of humor. At times he’d crack us all up . He would be there to help if he could with anything you might be doing. He cared about fitness and lifted weights. He was the best fisherman of any of us.”

Mars’ interest in and gift for creating visual art was/is an inherent part of his persona- he was around five years old when Joe’s illness became too overwhelming for his family to deal with on their own, but even then a young Chris began to channel his own worries and concerns about his brother and the cruelty and prejudice he saw in the world around him though artistic expression. He took comfort in movies and films, books (Maurice Sendak’s Where The Wild Things Are was an early influence,) the aforementioned encyclopedia, and remembers, “ Out of school, sick, I watched “Moby Dick” and couldn’t stop drawing white whales smashing into boats for a while; as well, there were many other movies – and animations – so visually inspiring. In summer, running around at night there would be glowing and smoldering trash barrels up and down alleyways, I was captivated by how the fire and smoke would dance and flicker against trees and buildings. I loved Halloween and the colors of fall. Being inspired by these various stimuli, I would then try to put it to paper, to reproduce the feeling of it from memory.”

Even now, that Halloween feel and the colors associated with it are prevalent in his work- several of his pieces currently on display at The Phipps Center focus directly on that theme- most notably an oil-on-canvas work titled, “10-31 Jupiter Street,” a rendering filled with fall colors, witches, bent, ominous trees, harsh stone steps, and a shadowy ancient graveyard. The painting stands out amongst the twenty-odd others hung around the room in that its’ main focus does not seem to be in bringing attention to the mental illness that plagued his family or the subsequent themes of outsider prejudice, the continually-crumbling and unsympathetic American health care system, xenophobia, or the man-as-part-of-a-machine theme so predominant in many of his other offerings.

He didn’t automatically connect his visual gifts to the trauma he underwent throughout his childhood and teen years, he says, figuring it began, “…in the late eighties when I delved headlong into drawing on a very regular basis. Then in 1999 or 2000 I found a more extensive conveyance through oil painting. The ability to express in this medium, for me, was much more enhanced. All through that period and still, I examined myself and the world and what motivated me; this process continues. Thinking, painting, talking about Joe and his plight and so many themes micro and macro that are connected have been educational and though hard at times, emotionally and purposefully enriching.”

Though he’s been ubiquitously referred to as “…the darling of The Low Brow Movement,” he’s quick to point out that he considers his work to be inspired by a multitude of sources, and anyone who’s paid even a modicum of attention to his personal philosophy over the past decade knows that labels of any kind are the antithesis to that philosophy. “I am inspired by many styles of art,” he points out, “but more closely by the Expressionists – Otto Dix, George Grosz, Marc Chagall, Ivan Albright, and more recently Zdzislaw Beksinski – to name a few. I also like Diego Rivera and Hieronymus Bosch and some of the medieval Ecole du Nord art of that time. Where my art is concerned, I would hope that it serves as a vehicle to spawn dialog. If one might ask why my art looks and behaves as it does, then perhaps therein lies the motive of my message; how we as a species tend to judge visually and behaviorally in knee-jerk fashion that which seems to us “unusual”, though the very nature of what is “unusual” in and of itself varies from person to person, culture to culture. This tendency for hastily labeling and judging what might at first seem “different” or “out of place” – or the very idea that “different” or “out of place” is somehow inherently negative – is where I hope my work might create discussion about the tendency itself. How we treat each other, how a nation of us can treat another nation, or race or culture or religion, etc.”

That explanation is taken a step further in his essays, as evidenced by this gem from a 2005 entry in which he references both his brother Joe and the multitude of societal outcasts which populate so much of his visual work: “They will pin a word on your chest and use it against you. They will create a word that’s excuse to take your humanity away. I saw it happen to him.

And everyday, this: A word to make you serve, and one to make grateful for it. There is a label out there just for you. This will make you easier to categorize, and sell to. There is a word for the man next to you that makes you comfortable with the fact that you have so much more than he does. There is a word for you that tells you what to settle for.

Devolved Status

There are the voiceless, who cannot speak for themselves. These are the easiest ones to shrink down. There are words for the non-conformers, simple words that can be quickly acknowledged by those that buy in. Crazy. Faggot. Gang. Rich. One is sinful, one is lazy, one is violent by nature and one is always, always good enough.

It’s such a precious thing that no one wants you to have it. You can’t be trusted with it. It’s such a delicate thing that it turns to something different in different hands. They might bury it but you can dig it up. You are strong enough for the Truth.

From my hands, my mission: To free the oppressed; to champion the persecuted, and the submissive; to liberate through revelation the actualized Self in those proposed by some to have no self at all. It’s in every single one of us, somewhere underneath that word on our chest.

In my hands, my version: All art is political in some sense, be it through conformity, reflection, propaganda or rebellion. My paintings are rallies and trials, photographs of a moment when Truth was made public, and Mercy known.

Question why a villain is villainized, a victim martyred. Ask why a group is demonized, and the motives for control. See for yourself what the truth looks like in your hands. Dig it up and hold it for a while. This work you see, it’s my Truth. But please don’t take my word for it.”

He says he doesn’t necessarily usually sit down to capture a preconceived idea or theme when he works, but explains, “Whenever I sit down to paint, I first set out to please myself and ask whether or not I am expressing what I want and composing a piece in such a way that it strikes a chord with me internally. Beyond this, I know that it is out of my hands what others may take away. I can express my personal intent for each painting and hope that whatever I am conveying will somehow add to the discussion concerning the themes I depict. If someone might come away with questions about the needless barriers we build between us and if this question leads to a place where understanding trumps xenophobia, I would feel I contributed somehow.”

Though he prefers not to dwell on the subject these days, Mars has already made some mighty contributions to the world at large through his co-founding- along with his fellow Twin-Citian, singer/songwriter/musician Paul Westerberg- of the seminal Minneapolis punk/pop outfit The Replacements. Chris played drums and participated (alongside bandmates Westerberg and brothers Tommy and the late Bob Stinson) in his share of the amped-up hijinx that brought the band both its fame and, ultimately, its downfall. Chris was with the ‘Mats from their 1979 inception through 1990’s All Shook Down, though he purposely contributed little to that record and subsequently quit the group, with Steve Foley taking up skins duties for what would be their last tour and final album.

He went on to work briefly with Minneapolis “Super-Group” Golden Smog, then recorded four solo albums, beginning with the stunning 1992 release Horseshoes & Hand Grenades, which, upon close listen, finds him revealing a plethora of his long pent-up frustrations with his musical career as well as setting the stage aurally for themes he would return to visually over the years: Cuts like the anti-clique anthem “Popular Creeps,” the smoldering “Outer Limits,” the wistful “Before It Began,” and the gorgeous ballad “Don’t You See It” are classics in their own rights, while “Egomaniac,” in retrospect, could be taken as a direct parting shot at Westerberg, though if it is, it’s certainly a sentiment that was of its’ time and is no longer relevant in the least. Each of his three following albums found him less and less interested in continuing a musical career (Though a group called The Wallmen found his excellent third release, Tenterhooks, great enough that they toured behind it, covering the songs and using a cardboard cut-out of Chris as their “frontman.”) Following 1996’s hilariously-titled Anonymous Botch, he officially moved into the visual medium, though fans were thrilled to discover that the thought-provoking, sometimes-disturbing imagery he’d used for his solo album covers were now going to occupy the majority of his time.

These days, he actually seems proud of his musical accomplishments, especially his solo work, and says, “There was satisfaction in knowing I had the ability to play many instruments to construct something of my own; it was frightening in that I wasn’t so sure about wearing so many hats at once. I had scantly ever sang a tune in my life. The records ultimately gave me a good feeling of independence and achievement . Emotionally it was a nice cap, knowing deep down I was completely and thoroughly finished with that chapter. I still do music, specifically soundtracks that go along with my short films. I have a good time with it and will continue to create music when it supports my visual endeavors.”

Indeed, Mars has literally worn quite a few hats over the years, releasing a coffee-table book, Tolerance (which he dedicated to his wife and soul-mate, writer Sally Mars) in 2008 that features 159 paintings and a superb, well-crafted collection of essays that deal with tolerance- or INtolerance, as it were- and was printed “green,” that is, on bleach-free paper using vegetable-based ink and not a whit of child or slave labor. He’s also still, as he put it, having a “good time” creating music for some very provocative and cutting edge animated short films. Once you’ve studied the still paintings he creates, you realize why he feels such a strong urge to see his characters “come to life,” as it were.
You can watch a 61/2-minute Chris Mars short called “A Rung Lower”- which does a fine job of bringing some of those interesting stills from his paintings to life, and find a veritable treasure trove of both his own animated efforts as well as an awesome collection of heartfelt fan tributes using his characters set to various music on YouTube. One zealous fan on YouTube has amassed a huge number of those mini-films- you can find him on YT under the name “cromemsg.” Enter the words “chris mars book” and even more such endeavors will appear. Chris has his own fascinating, official series of animated shorts set to his own, recently composed music under the header “films” on his fact-packed, informative web site, www.chrismarspublishing.com. He’s currently working on a new film, Flowers For Jupiter, which, he says, is based on one of his wife Sally’s stories, and he plans to begin entering his work in film festivals.

The Biostitute

He seems genuinely excited to once again use music as a way of expressing himself artistically, though the sounds accompanying his shorts are about as far removed from the rock and pop he helped create with The Replacements (and even his solo work, which, by the time Tenterhooks was released, had found him experimenting with a variety of genres) as that band’s music is from that of Stravinsky. Nowadays, he recognizes that although he’s always had a deep appreciation for rock, pop, and indie music (he concluded an interview with The Punk Globe awhile back with the line, “Punk Rules!!”) maybe some of his infatuation with the life of a rowdy rock n’ roller was his own way of escaping the harsh realities of his youth, and that being in a band may have been a form of repression in and of itself.

“I think that through denial and confusion there came repression, yes.” he admits, “When someone as close as a sibling is going through such difficulties, there is a natural tendency to think that it could also happen to oneself. At times this proved a haunting proposition.” After turning his back on the zany, exhausting world of professional rock and roll, he began learning more about himself as an individual and an artist, and the result was nothing short of a personal/spiritual awakening. “As an adult,” he explains, “the more I drew and painted, the more this ghost presented itself. Perhaps art and creative expression have been a perfect avenue for escape. If something is there that is being denied, eventually it calls to be dealt with. Art as therapy is a great thing. I discovered that when one door is opened and a problem receives examination, it has the potential to open other doors; to open one’s mind on a more universal level.”

Despite the shadowy, sometimes terrifying world Chris depicts and the strange, deformed characters which populate it- one has to truly and deeply study the faces and figures to tell the difference between the wicked and the victims many times (with the possible exception of “Something Empty,” which features a bevy of street folk, one of the only near-perfect female faces in Mars’ output, and Fox News commentator Bill O’Reilly’s HEAD lying on a stone street, some sort of noxious-looking drool running down its chin -all the lies?- and sticking out of a pair of old-fashioned red-and-white striped pajamas that are quite apparently completely devoid of a body) this artist is not an angry or disgruntled man.

In person, he’s affable, approachable, humble, and almost painfully shy. Like many of the essays he’s written, Mars fairly exudes an aura of genuine empathy, compassion, and concern, and his eyes hold a glow of cautious hope in them. Incidentally, hands down, the words uttered most frequently by exhibition attendees (Mars’ showing was one of several the night this writer attended, and he’ll undoubtedly be thrilled to know that many of the conversations I overheard revealed that a large portion of the audience had no idea that he was once a member of The Replacements or, being as young as so many were, who that band was at all!) were, “The eyes! Oh my God, look at the eyes! They’re beautiful!” True, many of the commentators went on to speculate and expound upon the characters and subject matter of the works, but nearly every patron walked away from the picture they’d been studying uttering the words, “I still can’t believe how REAL the eyes look!”

Mars himself sees that hopeful attitude in both his fellow artists as well as the young people he’s around in his daily life, saying, “I see a playful- escape-oriented, and a pessimistic- doom-oriented, yet hopeful- message-oriented, flavor in the so-called Low Brow movement. I notice with some artists a melding or hybrid of pop, surrealism and expressionism all at once. In attitude there is a darkness, a flavor and extension of punk’s rouge Gen X attitude where disillusionment and mistrust spawned by wars and the political/personal/religio-cultural battles that preceded Gen X are examined and questioned; a calling-out of the culture wars between our elders who politically or otherwise on either side of the aisle or any given debate seem to be at each others throats and unable to come together. It is a shift in artistic values to work that is more activist, seeking not just observation or accolades, but action. These are some of the threads I notice in the work of many of my peers.” As for the youth of today, he states, “I have a lot of hope in the millennial generation that is just now coming of age, I see something in my nieces and nephews and their peers that is by nature intensely cooperative. Perhaps this is what it will take to pull us all from the brink. I am excited too to see what they do and create.”
As for the future, he definitely sees himself taking an active role in it, not only blazing fresh trails in his current medium, but also expanding into other forms of expression as well. “I hope to continue to push and evolve as a painter first,” he states confidently, “and maybe even a film maker. I still find a great deal of mystery in these two things and hope to keep on exploring them.”

10 Must-See Chris Mars Paintings Currently On Display At The Phipps Center For The Arts:

1- “Only Tenants Reside”
2- “10-31 Jupiter Street”
3- “Relativity”
4- “Something Empty”
5- “Corporatocracy Queen”
6- “Flushing The Celebration Of Ignorance”
7- “Auto-Intervention”
8- “Escaping The Albatross”
9- “End Times Of The Armageddonist”
10- “Disappearing Ink”

Chris Mars’ Web Site is at
http://www.chrismarspublishing.com/

Showing title, dates, info: Chris Mars The Relinquishing @ The Phipps Center For The Arts Jan.22-Feb 21 2010
The Phipps Center for the Arts
109 Locust Street
Hudson, WI 54016
(715) 386-2305

-Tom Hallett

The Zombies
Odessey & Oracle (Revisited)
MVD – 2009

For a band that broke up in the late ‘60’s before they even had a hit single, then re-formed as “Time Of The Season” et. al. became smash radio hits, these English lads couldn’t have chosen a better moniker.

Like their supernatural namesakes, they just keep on a’ risin’ from their metaphorical musical graves and each visit is all the sweeter for its’ surprise. I was lucky enough to interview them and attend a rare live show in a relatively small venue back in the early ‘Oughts, and this live release celebrating the 40th Anniversary of their seminal
Oddessey & Oracle album finds them none the worse for the wear.

Recorded at Shepherd’s Bush Empire in London in 2008, the disc captures the band as they’re finally seeming to realize the historical importance of that long-ago-released masterpiece, with an enraptured audience who look as if they’re hearing shouts down from Mount Olympus itself- fans both old and new seem equally in awe of the group’s mighty talents here, with part one showcasing today’s touring band and fan/band faves, winding down with the Argent classic “Hold Your Head Up.”

Part two replays the original Oddyessey & Oracle album, kicking off with a grand introduction from the mighty Al Kooper and producing absolutely gorgeous readings of such nuggets as “Care Of Cell 44,” “A Rose For Emily,” “This Will Be Our Year,” and the tried-and-true trio, “Time Of The Season,” “Tell Her No,” and “She’s Not There.” A solid piece of rock history that should not be missed.

-Sheldon Jackson

Feb 14, 2010
Cedar Cultural Center
416 Cedar Av S, Mpls
Jonathan “Juanito” Pascual
Come celebrate this very special evening with passionate flamenco music and dance, presented by Jonathan “Juanito” Pascual with the support of the Zorongo Flamenco Dance Theater and School. After first discovering the art of flamenco guitar during his youth in Minneapolis, Juanito trained extensively with the masters in Spain and at the New England Conservatory, and has risen to take his place as one of the finest young flamenco guitarists on the scene. Energized by a driving passion to share the beauty, and soul-stirring power of this ancient yet most vibrant and evolving musical style, Juanito brings the energy of hope and joy through his performances, recordings, and teaching.

Feb 14, 2010
The Saloon
830 Hennepin Av, Mpls
6th Annual Saloon Employee Drag Show!
What more needs to be said?? This one is always entertaining. Love these guys.
6 pm, no cover, 21+

Feb 17, 2010
Sauce Spirits and Sound Bar
Lake and Lyndale, Mpls
Dada Trash Collage, Ghost In the Water, The New Monarchs
Dada Trash Collage is samples, drums, and two guys making some incredible sounds; I really like this stuff. Ghost In the Water is some incredible pulsing and sometimes eerie electronica. The New Monarchs have more of an ethereal bend to them. This show is an excellent example of three bands of the same genre presenting themselves in three different ways. Fans of the medium should not miss this show.
9:30 pm, no cover, 21+

Feb 18, 2010
The 318
318 Water Street, Excelsior
Vicky Emerson with special guest Matt Patrick
Vicky Emerson is a gifted singer and songwriter of plain and simple country soft-rock. Rich vocals, mesmerizing melodies, Ms. Emerson’s material leaves you hypnotized in an emotional rollercoaster ride. Worth the drive, definitely.
8 pm, $10, all ages

Feb 19, 2010
Cedar Cultural Center
416 Cedar Av S, Mpls
Dewi Sant CD release with Starfolk and Alison Rae
Celebrating the release of Dewi Sant’s debut album May on Northfield’s Plastic Horse Records, fans know that Dewi Sant is the quiet and the storm. The Starfolk is new, featuring members of Minneapolis indie pop mainstays “The Owls” and “The Hang Ups”. They are a mishmash of pop/folk//experimental. If you haven’t been to the Cedar for awhile, this might be the time to revisit.
7 pm, $10, all ages

Feb 19, 2010
501 Club
501 Washington Av S, Mpls
The Tisdales and Petty Demons
Rich Mattson, known for his bands Ol’ Yeller and The Glenrustles, is back on stage with The Tisdales. The Tisdales are a not the same old/ same old. This is rocking, throw down the lunch pail and grab the old lady kinda stuff. Don’t try to peg them, though; they’ll throw you
with the next song, again and again. All over the musical map, they keep it fun and interesting!! Petty Demons is straight-up, power driven, garage punk rock.
9:30, no cover, 21+

Feb 19, 2010
Sauce Spirits and Sound Bar
Lake and Lyndale, Mpls
Red Pens, Total Babes, Bombay Sweets
The Red Pens are whole lot of sound from two people, bouncy, thick, and delicious; I would say a marriage of T Rex to Sleater Kinney, perhaps. Total Babes are poppy fun goodness and Bombay Sweets gives you a second chance to catch him in February.
9:30, $5, 21+
Feb 20, 2010
Triple Rock Social Club
629 Cedar Avenue, Mpls
Radio K presents Retribution Gospel Choir
Retribution Gospel Choir which features Alan Sparhawk and Steve Garrington, both from another band you may have heard of called Low, and Eric Pollard on drums. This is the side project that caught on fire and exploded. Catch these guys while you can; they’re busy traveling the planet.
8 pm, $10, 18+

Feb 20, 2010
Acadia Cafe
329 Cedar Av, Mpls
Graveyard Blues Project presents The Hunger Bone, Javier Dunn, MMC Duo
The Hunger Bone plays pleasing, pleasant garage rock. Javier Dunn of LA is currently touring solo, taking time off as Sarah Bareilles guitar player. MMC Duo starts the night off. There is no cover charge, but I suggest a $5 donation in the jar for the musicians time and gas.
9 pm, no cover, all ages

Feb 23, 2010
Sauce Spirits and Sound Bar
Lake and Lyndale, Mpls
Omaur Bliss and Haziq Ali
Omaur Bliss has found his place in a soul/jazz landscape, with his own voice, his own strength. And from Atlanta,
Haziq Ali is an innovative wordsmith with a smooth, sultry delivery.
9:30, no cover, 21+
Feb 24, 2010
Sauce Spirits and Sound Bar
Lake and Lyndale, Mpls
The Mad Ripple (CD Release) with John Swardson & Get Gone and Brianna Lane
The Mad Ripple, featuring Mr. Hootenanny himself-Jim Walsh has a CD ready for your perusal. You’ll want to catch the tune Death Bed Bride for sure. John Swardson & Get Gone is a stellar band of the Americana genre. Brianna Lane has a sweet as honey voice singing folk/alt county tunes, a delightful opener.
9:30, $5, 21+

Feb 25, 2010
Red Stag Supper Club
509 1st Ave NE, Mpls
Jennifer Markey and the Tennessee Snowpants
Yippy Skippy, Jennifer Markey has a CD!! Backed by an incredible heap of talent, Jennifer has a vocal quality I have become addicted to. Her songs are optimistic, but you feel she got there by slamming a shot of whiskey, and decided she should still see the glass half full.
10 pm, no cover, all ages

Feb 26, 2010
Sauce Spirits and Sound Bar
Lake and Lyndale, Mpls
Pictures of Then, Modoc, 4 On The Floor
Pictures of Then is back in their hometown in the middle of a tour on the road, keeping it fresh, rocking. Modoc has been on the road, also; these bands should be tight. 4 On The Floor starts it off.
9:30, $5, 21+

Feb 27, 2010
Triple Rock Social Club
629 Cedar Avenue, Mpls
Song of Zarathustra Reunion!!
You better have tonight off because you need to be at this show. A reunion show of Song of Zarathustra; my dreams have come true. Trash, noise, all that is Song of Zarathustra will attack your psyche and leave you bleeding and begging for more. The incredible Gay Witch Abortion and the Stnnng open, with a dj set Atlantic Audio Archive starting things off. I recommend geting your tickets now; this show will sell out.
9 pm, $8, 18+

Feb 27, 2010
331 Club
331 13th Avenue NE, Mpls
The Matchbox 10th Anniversary Party with Black Blondie, Nightingales, The Poor Nobodys
Soulful and playful, fun and funky, Black Blondie will bewitch you with their sultry marriage of r and b and hip hop. Nightingales present you a second cvhance this month to imbibe their glam pop tastiness.
The Poor Nobodys is a multi-dimensional, eclectic collective of musicians with folk and classical roots underneath it all.
9 pm, 21+

Feb 28, 2010
Triple Rock Social Club
629 Cedar Avenue, Mpls
Gastro Non Grata 13-Leftover Love
Sponsored by: The Onion, Metro Magazine, Pabst Blue Ribbon, Thrifty Hipster, Northern Brewer and Heavy Table
Gastro Non Grata is a local chef-driven, alcohol fueled music machine, introducing you to food, drink and music that are fighting the good fight. Gastro #13 features Doug Flicker of Piccolo on 43rd and Bryant. Doug has been making good food for many years. at such legendary restaurants as Auriga, Porter & Frye and D’amico Kitchen. A great craft brewery, Left Hand Brewing of Colorado, represented by Eric Wallace and Mike Walters, will be presenting some excellent beers and seasonal brews. The always entertaining rockabilly of Bitch and Brown will start things off. My fave, Bella Koshka, will follow. Next up hip-hop Unknown Prophets, and the evening will close with Montana’s punk band Noise, Noise, Noise. Sheela Namakkal, of soon-to-open Cake Eater Bakery, will be handing out dessert- some of the best cupcakes you’ll ever taste throughout the night. As always, Northern Brewer will be on hand, pouring the hoppy amber ale from the last show and boiling a whole new batch of beer goodness in the back. Clancey’s Meat and Fish in Linden Hills will be providing you a chance at the always inanimate, ever wonderful, forever flavorful, Dead Meat Door Prizes. Gastro Non Grata is a labor of love brought to you by Craig Drehmel and Jeff Mitchell.
6 pm, $7, 18+

March 1, 2010
7th Street Entry
First Avenue, Mpls
So Cow
Giving you heads up in advance on this one. So Cow, coming from Ireland, plays punky pop with pluck. Catch them now as they head south to play SXSW soon, and then, I fear, they will become huge and famous and inaccessible. ( But hey, that would be cool for them.)
8 pm, $7, 18+

-Berni Sarazine

Now, I’m not trying to say Valentines Day is perfect; nothing is and we all know it. When I was in 7th grade, I had a crush on a girl named Roxanne. For Valentines Day, we were supposed to get a partner and make a Valentines Day presentation. Of course, I wanted Roxanne to by my partner. She had a nasal voice and huge braces, but I still loved her. When I asked to be her partner, she said she was already Randy Boheimie’s partner. That made me confused because I knew they didn’t get along. Randy was hyper and threw plastic filmstrip containers at her. As the rest of the class was, or seemed to be partnered up, the teacher told me that I didn’t have to do it, that I could be a judge and decide who’s presentation best.

But the night before the presentation, a miracle happened. Roxanne called me, and said she wanted to be my partner. She had nothing done and was in a panic. I was elated. She said that she never should have chosen Randy as her partner. She said he never did any work and wouldn’t stop touching her hair. Then, my fingers got tingley and I had a hot feeling when she said that she had a crush on me.

I was amped up and good to go. I volunteered to do all the work because of how Randy screwed Roxanne over and because I loved her short hair and fuzzy turtleneck sweaters. We discussed what to do over the phone. I would come up with idea, bring the props in and we’d go over it real quickly in the morning.

Ah, but I already had the idea all worked out in my head. I would make a valentine out of my Saturn 5 model rocket. And where the letters, U. S. A. were vertically painted on the side so we could watch patriotically as it rise up past the cameras, I would paint R. O. X. A. N. N. E. on mine. My theme would be “Valentines Day In Outer Space” and I’d play “Rocket Man”, lift the rocket up with fishing line up to a Styrofoam moon, where astronauts were exchanging valentines. For hours, I labored. I had to stop from exhaustion and ran out of time before I could figure out how to make real smoke come from the engines.

The next day, I happily strode into school. I had “Rocket Man” on cassette, my moon with astronauts (they were just army men painted white, with candy hearts glued to them), and most important, my Saturn 5 adorned with the name of my love poorly stenciled on it’s side.

I saw Roxanne in the hall and immediately, I approached her. “Are you ready?” I said. “For what?” she responded.

A TERRIBLE hot feeling swept from my legs up through my head.

“To practice our presentation.” I said. “But I’m doing mine with Randy, what are you talking about?”

I had no idea what was happening. Did she lie to me? Was she tricking me? Did she change her mind again?

I sat through class, and had to watch all the other presentations and finally the one Roxanne did with Randy. It was called “The King of Hearts”. Randy wore a crown, robe and passed out candy hearts taped to playing cards. In my rage, I judged “An Old Tyme Valentines Candy Shoppe” to be the best presentation.

Two other boys from class suppressed laughter all day. It turned out that they had called me and pretended to be Roxanne. I had borne my heart to what I thought was Roxanne. “She” had even asked my to be her boyfriend on the phone. I said yes.

I took the Saturn 5 with her name on it to a park and shot it into the air.

I didn’t bother to see where it came down.
-Rich Kronfeld

We were about ten minutes away, on the edge of St. Paul’s downtown, when we first saw them: two protesters standing on a bridge, hoisting large American flags. A stiff wind was blowing their flags straight back. Their stance was wide and somewhat bowed, as if they were cavalry soldiers riding invisible steeds. They were flanked by large yellow banners proclaiming “No More War!” I turned to my friend, James, and said, “I don’t think they’re anarchists.” He concurred.

I was on a mission to find these rascally miscreants and interview them. I wanted to see how their wonderful and twisted minds work. And, as fortune would have it, I had the perfect place—the Republican National Convention (RNC). My friend James had once dabbled in this uniquely apolitical philosophy. He would act as my interpreter—deciphering the anarchists’ Chomsky-esque recitations. Of course, I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about. Maybe I just wanted to party with them—drink their cheap wine and sleep with their women! Our slate was wide open.

I was armed and ready: a half-functioning digital camera, voice recorder, cell phone, ear buds, sunglasses, notepad, and a mind full of snark. It was fortunate that the day was cold and cloudy. I had a jacket to hold all my devices. I thought my attire was fitting: black jacket, black turtleneck, black leather belt, and black shoes. I figured, That should be subversive enough for them. The only thing not black was my ratty blue jeans.

James is one of my “quirky” friends. His wiry frame stands just a tad over six feet. He has a full head of well-groomed brown hair and big blue eyes. For our expedition he was wearing a long black leather coat, a black tee shirt, blue jeans, and shit-kicking black boots. A perfect accomplice.
Part of me wanted to bag one of these bastards and make them cry—weep from my illumination of their errant ways. But then I remembered—I’m a fan of Noam Chomsky. My God, am I one of these fiends? Is there something inside me that screams, “Fuck off to all governments”? I realize this is silly. Me? An anarchist? Probably not. I haven’t fought hard enough to “give unto Caesar what is Caesar’s.”

St. Paul is like a foreign country to me. I seldom make it to this other half of the Twin Cities. I often joke that I can’t go to St. Paul because my passport is not up to date. I usually receive a blank expression after this comment. My sense of humor is sometimes too dry. But actually, I find its downtown more charming than Minneapolis’s. Many of its older buildings remain intact. Minneapolis, on the other hand, likes to bulldoze every 20 to 30 years.

We found a parking ramp right away. The time was 9:05 a.m. We didn’t know how far we were from the Xcel Energy Center. I remember seeing a sign instructing us to prepay for parking on “level three.” When we got in the elevator I noticed there wasn’t a button for the third floor. I turned to James and said, “There’s no goddamn three!”
He shook his head and pointed. “It’s the one marked ‘skyway,’ dude.”
“Oh,” I said. “Why didn’t they mention ‘skyway’ on the damn sign?”
James smirked. “Helm, how long have you lived in the Cities?”
“It’s pretty fucking early,” I said as we exited the parking garage.

I looked around, examining my environs. It was deathly quiet. This was the biggest thing to hit St. Paul since the return of professional hockey, and there wasn’t a soul around. I turned to James and said, “Where the hell is everybody?”

“I dunno,” he said. “It is pretty early. And they’re conventioneers. I’m sure they were partying pretty late last night.”
James’s comment reminded me of something. There was a push to have the Cities’ bar hours changed to 4 a.m. for the convention. All I could think about during the debate was, Where are the “family values” in partying until four in the morning? I guess they leave them at home, where the wife is supposed to be—tending to their one-and-a-half children.
My mind became filled with questions: How close will I get to the police or the Xcel? How do I discern an anarchist from your average protester? Do they always dress in black? Will there be riots? Will Noam be leading their charge? The last question was rhetorical.

We started walking down Seventh Street toward the convention center. It’s on the outskirts of the downtown core. The buildings became smaller, less impressive. We passed a church. At the top of a long stoop stood two Army officers dressed in forest-green dress uniforms. Their hats almost covered their eyes, and they both had gold sashes wrapped around their waists. These men were standing in the “at ease” position, with their legs slightly apart and their hands clasped behind them. I wondered, Why the hell is the military guarding a church? Then it hit me. They must be serving some sort of ceremonial function. I grabbed James’s arm and approached the men.

We got halfway up the stairs when one of the officers put an arm out and shouted, “Do you have your invites?” I think they suspected we wouldn’t. It immediately became obvious why. An older couple exited the church. The gentleman was wearing a thousand-dollar black suit, complete with a red silk handkerchief sprouting from a breast pocket. His spouse was in a long black silk gown. She had white gloves that went up to her elbows. The couple eyed us suspiciously as they walked down the steps.

I turned to them and shouted, “Are you Republicans?”
They did not answer, and their pace quickened. I could almost hear, “Hurry along, dear. I don’t think
they bite.”
I looked up at the military officers. “What’s going on here? It’s awfully early for a party.”
I was met with two stern faces. Cold, expressionless discipline. Neither of them would answer my question.
“Let’s just go,” James said.
I shrugged and said, “Okay.”

Before departing, I saluted the officers, offering, “You two have a swell day.” They remained unmoving—not even the slightest of head nods.
I was surprised how close we were able to get to the Xcel Energy Center. I assumed that the city would have cordoned off several blocks around it. But the barricades stopped us only within a hundred feet. I scanned the area. It was still very quiet. I saw a man sitting by himself on a curb directly across from the building. He was a skinny man with curly blond hair and cobalt eyes. This bystander was wearing a brown leather jacket and clean blue jeans. He was reading a newspaper and eating an apple. He seemed like someone arriving early to buy tickets to a concert. We approached him.

“Have you seen any anarchists?” I asked.
He looked up and squinted. “I’m sorry?”
“Anarchists,” I repeated. “We’re looking for anarchists.”
The man chuckled. “Oh. Sorry. Haven’t seen any.”
I became curious. “What are you doing down here, anyway?”
Through a mouthful of apple the man said, “I’m just on break. I work down the street.”

I saw some police checking credentials by a barricade. “Have the police eyed you suspiciously this morning?”
The man looked at the cops and smiled. “It’s funny you mention that. Two plain-clothes types talked to me just a few minutes ago.”
I grabbed my digital voice recorder. I wanted to record his answers to a few questions. My device is long, narrow, and silver—very sci-fi.
The man saw it and said, “Who are you with?”

James’s eyes had been wandering up to this point. Not anymore. He shot his head around. My friend knows my mind very well and knew where I might take the conversation.
I shrugged and said, “I’m sorry?”
The man stood and pointed at the recorder. “You’re feds, aren’t you? Why else would you be looking for anarchists?”
James stepped forward, his eyes focused, his brows furrowed. “Why would you think that, sir? Do you know something we should be worried about?”
The man’s eyes never left my recorder. “I can see it in your eyes,” he said.
I chuckled and said, “My eyes aren’t on the recorder.” I turned to James. “Are your eyes on this recorder?”

“No, sir,” James said sharply. “They’re definitely not on the recorder.”
The man started walking away, but he kept his eyes on us. “You’re feds,” he shouted. “I just know it.”
“We got pictures now,” James shouted. “You best be careful!”
I put the recorder to my mouth. “Blue team! Blue team!” I shouted. “He’s heading down Seventh Street.”

We saw the man walk faster. I turned and looked at my friend. There was a short silent pause before we bent over and grabbed our stomachs, gasping for air between guffaws
. (To Be Cintinued)
-Helm Matthews

Earl Root - photo by Jay Smiley

‘Round The Dial thought it might be a larf to hear some humorous tales from John Ewing, one of St. Paul’s favorite local musicians/vinyl record store clerks. John, a Texas-to-Minnesota transplant, has a brilliant back catalog of powerful, guitar driven Americana/pop-rock, a nifty dry wit, and the memory of an elephant. A serious compendium of his years supporting his music career as a record store clerk and on the rock scene in general would literally fill a nice-sized chap book- his time spent as manager for the late, beloved Earl Root at Root Cellar Records on Snelling Avenue in St. Paul would certainly fill several highly interesting and genuinely funny chapters alone. Alas, Earl has left this mortal coil, Root Cellar has long been shut down, and John now works at Cheapo Records, also on Snelling Avenue. If there’s anything good at all about about John’s change of work venues, it’s that he comes across more people with LESS knowledge of vinyl in general, thereby providing those of us a with bit more awareness of the medium with even more funny encounters/overheard conversations to hoot an’ holler over. Watch upcoming editions of Pandora’s box for reviews of his work with The John Ewing Band and great albums like Delta Flares, Seen Yer Face, the solo album Augustine, and more, as well as news of some exciting new upcoming projects John’s working on! For now, let’s take a peek through those dusty stacks of vinyl he works around and catch some of the daily action at a local record store. Cheapo’s vinyl store in St. Paul is located at 80 Snelling Ave N Saint Paul, MN 55104, you can reach them by phone at 651-644-7499 or online at www.cheapodiscs.com

Customer Quotes:

1.)”I’m looking for some music from back in the day, my mom’s like 39 so you know, old stuff” -Random Teenie

2.) “People use to do drugs off of these things…” -Random Teenies looking at a record album which, ironically, was an Ed Ames record…..So they were only partly correct…

3.) “I can’t find Lynyrd Skynyrd, is he filed under HIS first name or last name? -Dude

4.) Molly Hatchet…(see above)

5.) “Look Dad, they got the big CD’s here!” -Kiddie holding up a brand new Atmosphere record to show his Pa.

6.) A puzzled customer looking for the Chris Gaines CD only to find that Chris Gaines is actually filed with Garth Brooks CD’s…….well because, you know, HE is freakin’ Garth Brooks! It was like somebody had stuck a knife through the guys’ heart! Sorry buddy, hated to break the news…

7.) “I’m looking for that song Pina Coladaville?”
This is funny if only for the simple fact that it combines the two songs I despise the most, “Margaritaville” and “The Pina Colada Song”…….Shit, now I got that line in my head “If you’re not into yoga…..”

8.) I witnessed a young lady trying to fit a CD onto our store-play turntable. She kept putting the CD on the spindle hole and closing the lid. Then she’d put the earphones on and fiddle with all the knobs. This went on for several minutes before I couldn’t take it anymore. So I told her “Our, ahem….our CD player must be broken.”

These last 2 stories are from my days at Root Cellar Records- I had to give a nod torwards my old stomping grounds and to my good friend Earl Root who left us in 2008:

9.) On Christmas Eve (don’t remember the year) I was checking out an elderly couple who were buying a Perry Como Christmas record. Well all of a sudden, Impaler’s front man, Bill Lindsey, comes walking through the front door in full corpse makeup! Blood, gore, and more blood! The elderly couple turned white with fear! The man put his arms around his wife’s shoulders as if to protect her from a Christmas Eve slaughter! Bill stops, smiles, extends his hand, and says in his not so scary non-anti-Christ voice “Hey folks, Merry Christmas! I’m Bill, nice to meet you”……I’ll never forget that, simpler times I suppose.

10.) This is my favorite record store story. I was working with Earl when a dude walks up to the counter and asks about a rare “Witchfinder General” record on the wall. He asks Earl if the price is really 50 bucks and Earl says something like “Yeah, that record is impossible to find, you won’t find a nicer copy” The guy looks at it and offers 30 bucks to which Earl replies, “Dude, I dunno, this thing is really nice…..I’ll tell you what- I’ll sell it to you for 40 bucks.” The guy looks at it, shakes his head and replies back to Earl “You take 35?”…….Man, Earl got real freakin’ quiet, and not “good” quiet, either. Earl asks the guy to bring him the record and upon inspecting it very closely. Then Earl takes the record and smashes it over his knee!! With the 2 broken pieces of rare Metal vinyl in his fists he hands them to the startled Guy and Says “Dude, just take it”. As the guy slumped off in confusion, Earl turned to me and said, “John, that was totally worth it. Besides, I’ve got two more copies at home!!”
-John Ewing

Photo by flickr.com/photos/fling93/

No, really.

Do you remember Rush? Of course you do. Everybody remembers Rush. That mass obscurity is part of their whole legend. This was music that nerds listened to. The weird sounds, that strangely high voice, the shifting time signatures and impossible-to-follow, vocab-heavy lyrics; it’s not for everybody. But in 2009’s buddy comedy “I Love You Man,” Paul Rudd and Jason Siegel bond over playing Rush’s “Tom Sawyer.” In the inevitable 2025 remake, they’ll play “Welcome Home” by Coheed & Cambria.

After a few false starts, frequently falsetto frontman Claudio Sanchez found himself with a stable lineup and a pretty clear direction. In 2000, under the name “Shabutie,” they released Delirium Trigger, an EP with a decidedly prog rock slant. A few of the songs were based on “The Amory Wars,” a comic book series Sanchez was writing on the side. Because this could become a well of inspiration for a band just starting out and because it would be totally awesome, the band decided to rename themselves “Coheed and Cambria,” after two of the protagonists and bet big on the sci-fi fantasy epic. It paid off.

A quick look at box offices in the last ten years will show you one thing: Nerds win. They’ve got the money, they’ve got the passion, and there are so many of them, they pretty much dictate culture. So the introduction of a band that actually describes their songs as “In the tradition of Star Wars” sounds like a check waiting to be cashed.

But what about the music itself? 2002’s confoundingly titled Second Stage Turbine Blade pushed ripping metal guitars front and center, cut with a punk edge and a huge debt to post-hardcore kings At The Drive-In. The band immediately established their penchant for writing songs swelling with ambition. Only two songs dip below the 4 minute mark. Without these clear outliers, the average song length is about 5:30, well beyond the radio-friendly 2:45. This is a band that knows how to sprawl.

And sprawl they did, across three more albums. Literally every song on every album is connected to the aforementioned “Amory Wars,” but with lyrics opaque enough to block sunlight. Tons of inside references and subtly returning melodic lines implied that everything would be explained in the end. All you have to do is stick with the band and eventually, it will all make sense. This is something that nerds are uniquely willing to do.

And it’s a good thing they did, because in 2004, C & C began to find their voice. In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth:3 brought more strong guitars, dense hooks, impossible harmonies and a few concessions to radio-friendliness. The two singles, “Blood Red Summer” and “A Favor House Atlantic” are vastly more accessible than the rest of the album and are the most recognizable-at-the-time kind of punk rock. But the standout success on the album is “The Crowing,” which not only marks a turning point in the story, but is emblematic of every single thing this band does right. Listen to this song. However you feel about this song is how you feel about the entire band.

But then listen to the rest, too, because they really fell into a groove in 2006. Good Apollo I’m Burning Star IV Vol 1: From Fear Through The Eyes of Madness, in addition to being their most cumbersome title to date, was and is their biggest seller. And of course, it brought the maddeningly epic “Welcome Home” into living rooms across the country as a playable track on Rock Band. For those keeping score, that’s heavy metal guitars, mathy prog rock influence, an epic sci-fi storyline, a companion graphic novel series, and a video game tie in. Five points to Coheed & Cambria; Nerds Win.

Good Apollo… also refined the steel-speed guitar melodies that had so far typified the Coheed sound. Nearly every line Sanchez sings in his inimitable, enviable squeal is constantly complimented with a harmony line. It gives the whole thing a sense of unease and for those singing along, gives you a different track on every play-through. In video game terms, it’s the equivalent of “Now try again on hard difficulty!” And in classic rock terms, it does things as an album that few contemporary albums attempt. The subtle melodic callbacks become less subtle. The string theme from “Keeping The Blade” hearkens back to “The Ring In Return,” the continuing use of roman numerals to denote “split songs,” even the title “Apollo” is used more than once to a certain effect. This is a novel of an album, and against all odds, it works.

By No World For Tomorrow, the band pretty much figured that you’re on the team. The cover is that special kind of prog rock ridiculous that is designed to make perfect sense if you’ve been around since day one, and to be absolute fucking nonsense to everyone else. The full title, Good Apollo I’m Burning Star IV Vol 2: No World For Tomorrow, is no more or less bizarre than we’ve been conditioned to expect from a band of verbosities. It’s a concession to new listeners and a likely a request from new producer Rick Rubin that the shortened title is the one that appears on the album cover.

Though it was their most commercially-motivated endeavor, No World For Tomorrow has yet to best their most commercially successful. A viral marketing campaign and a vastly refined aesthetic front to back (ludicrous album cover notwithstanding) saw the band cashing in on the bet they’d made 7 years prior. They pulled a kind of Episode One gambit by banking on the idea that they are part of nerd culture now. And references made in a cryptic YouTube video might be understood by those fans who number in the tens of thousands.

Key tracks like “The Hound (Of Blood and Rank),” “The Running Free” and “Gravemakers & Gunslingers” stuck fairly close to the sound established in Good Apollo…Vol. 1, and as an added bonus, “III – The End Complete” features guitar licks wholly lifted from songs on previous albums. It sounds familiar, and it is meant to. In perhaps the first proper use of the “volume” system in music, Coheed & Cambria may have built a double-disc set that was released in stages.

In 2008, Coheed & Cambria launched a massively ambitious concert series. Over four nights, the band would perform Neverender, a full performance of all four albums to date. In New York, Chicago, Los Angeles and London, the entirety of the Amory Wars saga was performed. Name another band that could just play their whole catalog with the same thematic relevance. If the Neverender concert series is not repeated either by an aging version of Coheed themselves or by zealous fans, I will salt, boil, and eat my hat. This is the kind of rock and roll torch that was simply designed to be taken up.

The hits keep on coming. In January 2006, Vitamin Records released a string quartet tribute to album 2, In Keeping Secrets…, and it does not immediately sound ridiculous. In fact, it seems obvious. As though the entire Coheed catalog had been designed for strings.

Let’s round this up: Heavy yet melodic metal guitars, a storyline that features a character named “Supreme Tri Mage Wilhelm Ryan,” a playable track in a video game, reckless investment in the characters and setting, a sprawling narrative collected in live-performance-slash-DVD form… Nerds Win.

-Johnny Grubb

I was there….in the beginning….Howlin’ Andy Hound’s last breath before their transformation….Back when Andy was doing the “Thee Kiss And Tells” thing, and playing keyboards for Flim Flam Man…..I remember.

It was Mayslacks and the band consisted of Jacques Wait on bass, Travis “Smack” Ramen on the skins and low-fi genius Andy Kereakos, aka The Hound on guitar and mouth. I was getting ready to produce a vinyl compilation of local bands called “The Tundra Sessions” at the time, and his band along with eight others would be sharing the grooves (but that’s another story in itself). He wanted me to list the trio as Howlin’ Andy Hound on the record, to be documented on vinyl as such. A fitting goodbye for the rockin’ canine legend.

When I recieved his song submission I realized that this was a different kind of song. It was a lot heavier and had a slower, sludgier groove…..I knew he was onto something. This was like Black Sabbath meets Grand Funk meets Jon Spencer meets…….sumfukinthing?

It has the edge of a straight razor, the solemn gloom of the ocean floor, and the warmth of a brownie fresh out of the oven. Much like the Sabs, it carries a lot of ultra catchy vocal lines within their melody black.

It wasn’t just a one shot deal, either. It was one right after another. Riff after riff. Song after song. Record after record. Show after show. A wave of creative juice rushed over them and then played on.

Wake Up And Die Right is the first “official” release for the Blood Shot after The Tundra Sessions comp. Some rippers from that album include “Towards The Sky”, “Bell Ringer”, and a killer take of James Gang’s immortal rock anthem “The Bomber”.
This full length features a different lineup as well as the band’s name change. The Blood Shot was born! This time in addition to Andy there was Guy Low on bass and Jay Zweiffel on drums. Perhaps a bit more restrained of an album than their next, “Straight Up,” which saw other changes in personnel. The departure of Guy Low and the addition of Ouija Radio’s Joe Ulvi on bass and Dave Senn on rhythm guitar make up the “Straight Up” team. Though just the cover alone is disturbing enough to intrigue the interest of an unsuspecting listener with it’s deer/ cow/ horse head thing with two (loaded) hypedermic needles plunged into either side of it.

The inside art, however, is more subdued, sporting a mock inside gatefold of Deep Purple’s classic “Machine Head” that follows the original design pretty damn well. The album contains a nice take of “Forever My Queen”, that was originally written and performed by ‘70’s heavies Pentagram. There is a barn burner called “Crawling Across The Killing Floor” on there and alternate versions of “Bellringer” and “Runnin’ And Gunnin’ You Down”.

A bunch of indie live and studio DIY projects followed. I still try and see them perform when I get a chance and if any metal head, hard rock, stoner, doom, punkish, whateverhead wants to see a great show, check ‘em out. They are the Black Sabbathiest band in the Twin Cities. They’re the shit, man…The real deal!!

-Steve Janke

Minneapolis might have more in common with parts of rural Canada then other American cites in both climate and temperament. Maybe that’s why Toronto-based trio Rural Alberta Advantage have made three tour stops here over the last 6 months. Their debut album “Hometowns” is front man Nils Edenloff’s loving testimonial to the benefits of growing up in his hometown of Alberta and it has resonated enough with Minneapolis fans that their last show at the Cedar Cultural Center, as well as their September show at the 7th Street Entry both sold out quickly.

Those lucky enough to score tickets to the December 15th show witnessed a very appreciative and gushing RAA, who treated them to a wonderful night. The show started out with the haunting folk of openers Dark Dark Dark, whose lead singer posesses the sharpest looking accordion I’ve ever seen. Their set and atmosphere blended flawlessly with the eclectic gymnasium look and folding chairs of the Cedar. Maybe it was the organic cookie I purchased at the concession stand, but I began to feel like I was watching them in a friend’s basement instead of a Minneapolis concert venue.

Although the sit-down atmosphere of the Cedar was a perfect compliment to the brooding Dark Dark Dark, it was a slight puzzlement to the RAA. Part way through the set when they announced they had never played any place where there wasn’t room for people to dance before, but the comment came with a smile and the crowd could sense that the band was enjoying the different vibe after months of touring.

Unlike their last stop in town at the 7th Street Entry, there was no drunken, nonsensical yelling for “5 more years”, a reference relevant only to that one person, just an audience sitting and hanging onto every beat and absorbing every word. If the audience seemed to know every word, it was probably because of the eighteen songs played thirteen were from the “Hometowns” CD. The song that got the largest reaction was a solo acoustic cover of “Eye of the Tiger,” done with way more earnestness than most people would think possible.

Set highlights included “ Four Night Rider” with Banwatt’s exuberant drum beat, Current mainstay “Don’t Haunt This Place”, and newer song “North Star”. Edenloff and Cole’s harmonies especially shined on songs “Rush Apart” and “Frank, AB”. Even the ballad “In the Summertime” had an electricity to it that sparked the band to move with the song. Amy, as she switched instruments from xylophone, to drum, to tambourine and back, didn’t stop bouncing through the full set or four-song encore.

The show concluded with the song “Good Night,” as the whole band entered the crowd and proceeded to serenade them. With the talent and show the RAA bring, they are welcome to call Minneapolis a hometown anytime, and to stop here as often as they wish.