In honor of funksters The New Mastersounds return to NYC on Friday and Saturday night at Sullivan Hall, we’re going to rerun a piece HT Founder Ace Cowboy wrote about
Given the daily volatility of the roller-coaster financial markets and the increasingly heated campaign-trail polemics, it would appear, looking back, that the events of October 16th, 2006 exhibit a level of painful dullness and ennui unseen since Al Gore’s 2000 presidential campaign.
That particular pre-Halloween day in history is a global meh. The two most intriguing events I could find, in fact, were: “American and Russian scientists announce the discovery of a new chemical element with the atomic number 118, temporarily designated as Ununoctium” and “The government of Hong Kong will not appeal a court ruling striking down the territory’s sodomy law.” Huzzah for inter-territorial chemistry and South Chinese sodomy. Otherwise, nuthin’ doin’.
But on that nondescript morning, this superfluous exercise in inanity called Hidden Track first plastered its guttural verbiage on the world wide web. Someday, “The HT Inception” will make it onto Wikipedia. Exactly two years later, its dead-weight founder having jumped ship for fear of a stress-induced psychotic break, Elton John’s got a song about this here rag, and it involves “still” and “standing.” Only this blog isn’t just standing still — it’s flourishing beyond my loftiest expectations and wettest dreams. I started it as a farce; it’s now become a force.
When the Glide Folk and I conceived this project in a West Village bar (not a leather daddy establishment), we had agreed to something along the lines of two or three posts per week. The Prolific-As-Fuck Scotty B wouldn’t hear of it when I asked him to come along for the ride; no, he wanted us to go all in, throw the kitchen sink at everyone. We did, and soon enough this site featured four-post days and tons of copy. Scotty had always been the true driver, and under his leadership over the last nine months, he’s taken it to new heights. The redesign, the columns, the features, the music: It’s Evander Holyfield here — I’m talkin’ the real deal.
So “happy anniversary” to this inanimate creation, and “job well done” to Mr. Scotty Bizzle. Like your old neighborhood, you love to see things get better in your absence; I’m truly proud to watch HT transform into a legit source of news, debate and opinion.
And now I present you with my re-run of choice. Of all my favorite posts, I like this one best strictly because I’m trying to spread the phrase “Mariachi Metal.” That’ll be my Pat Riley “Threepeat.” Shit, now I owe Riley four cents.
READ ON for thoughts and pics and videos from an amazing night at Webster Hall with Mexico’s Rodrigo Y Gabriela…
Future Phish 2.0 lead singer Trey Anastasio shocked the unwashed masses when he reversed an earlier position and made the outrageous claim that he’d give his left nut to play You Enjoy Myself five times in a row every day until he dies.
[No Dogs Were Harmed In The Making of This Post]
Our anonymous friend consequently shocked the unwashed masses yesterday when he made an even more outrageous claim that he’d give his Black Labrador for a ticket to last night’s Classic TAB show at the Music Hall of Williamsburg.
Said friend couldn’t garner entry to the show, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. And his last ditch effort manifested itself in the form of the PETA-fucking Craigslist attempt that Scotty posted here yesterday. Of course it wasn’t serious, but since on the whole Disco Biscuits fans don’t exactly have a good credibility score, plenty of people wrote in to chide him for selling his Bisco lot dog Caterpillar for some unobtainable ducats.
The number of serious e-mailed responses to our friend overwhelmed the number of people that offered congratulations on a hoax well done, we thought we’d share our favorites with youse. So without further (Freddy) ado, here are the 10 best from some mindless folks with limited sense of humor:
HI…JUST WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW WHAT A COMPLETE FUCKING SCUMBAG YOU ARE. ITS COOL…IT TAKES A LONG TIME TO BECOME COOL AND KNOW WHAT TO DO..AND WHEN I WAS 21, I GUESS I WAS AS DUMB AS YOU. TREYS A CRACKHEAD…THE TICKET IS OVERPRICED AND YOU CLEARLY THINK ITS COOL TO TRADE A LIVING ITEM FOR A CONCERT THAT WILL COME AND GO. YEAH YOU WILL HEAR A PHISH SONG….BUT I HOPE ITS THE LAST MUSIC YOU HEAR AS YOU WILL BE KILLED ON THE WAY HOME BY THE KARMA POLICE. I HOPE YOU DIE AND YOUR ANIMAL FINDS A BETTER HOME
READ ON for more of the responses our friend got about Caterpillar…
The Silver Jews’ David Berman took quite a shot at My Morning Jacket during an interview posted today on Sound of the City [via Pipe2k]: “My Morning Jacket—love the way
In case you missed it earlier this week, the New York Daily News on Tuesday reported that R.E.M. frontman Michael Stipe used his interview in April issue of SPIN to
It’s been more than a month since I abdicated my daily editorial responsibilities at the helm of this here rag, and in many ways I miss it terribly, as I miss you all terribly down in my loins. But these days I’ve been busier than an indie rock band’s PR team, and I can’t have you right nobs bringing me down (Brrrrruuuuce).
Hidden Track has sprung me to great heights since my disappearance. In the past month I’ve won a Tony for writing and producing roles on my off-Broadway one-man show called Once Upon a Belding: From Principal to Vice President, a 237-minute comic romp starring acting and karaoke genius Dennis Haskins; I’ve written the world’s only known social commentary on Vampire Weekend’s education, appearance and historical significance (seriously, haven’t seen anything like this out there); I’ve gnarfled the garthog; I’ve played stellar goalkeeper for second-division Barnsley FC in their giant-killing victories over Liverpool and Chelsea on the way to the FA Cup semifinals; and just last night I had my head exploded by the series finale of The Wire. Busy as fuck, mang.
So there hasn’t been much time for love, Doctah Jones. I managed to catch a power poppy short set from Favours For Sailors at a cool little East London rock club that had Pete Doherty on the docket. It then hit me that I have never heard a note of this supposedly famous rock star’s music in my life. I can’t even name the genre of music he plays. Is it me? Have I just missed it? Fuck it; I’m ’bout to start smoking crack rock on video, possibly on a sex tape. It’ll be hot, I pinky swear. Then I’m putting drugs in your drinking water.
I also managed to catch up with Levon Helm and his friends at the Beacon Theatre on Friday night. It wasn’t nearly as good as last St. Patrick’s Day’s unbelievable throwdown hoedown, but it still had its world-class moments (horn section = total sickness!). Among my observations: Jimmy Vivino came dressed as Stevie Ray Vaughan in the Hamburglar’s get-up, and Levon at this point in his life could probably pass for Willem Defoe’s great aunt. One thing is for sure-as-shit — it doesn’t get better than The Band’s catalog.
I’ve not got a point to all this. But Scotty’s returning from Langerado and I’ve been called upon to stall you lot until he lands safely and securely. So after the jump I’ve embedded some fantastic videos, and I urge you to take a few moments and check out the pickings while they’re still going good…
The picture below has nothing to do with anything. But it’s pretty awesome, and you can file it under Monkey Torture, which is always sweet. I’m kinda brain dead today.
Serving as this here rag’s editor and director of day-to-day operations couldn’t possibly be a better hobby-gone-wild. For the past 17 months it’s truly been a pleasure to serve as
For Back Door Slam, it all started with C-sharp.
Seventh grader and budding guitar prodigy Davy Knowles approached Adam Jones in their Isle of Man schoolyard and asked whether the young bassist could play in that key. Jones snickered and replied, “Of course,” and the rest will one day be history. Drummer Ross Doyle eventually joined his mates behind the kit, and now nearly a decade later, their Back Door Slam blues trio is touring thousands of miles from home to support their brilliant debut album, Roll Away.
BDS’ Davy Knowles at ACL 2007 — photo by Danfun
And even though “Back Door Slam from the Isle of Man” sounds more akin to the name of an XXX movie in San Francisco’s Castro District, they’re nonetheless building a solid name for themselves. The blues stars-to-be seem to constantly be on the road, headlining club gig after club gig and opening for more established [nostalgia] acts like REO Speedwagon, Styx and George Thorogood, earning their stripes the old-fashioned way by organically building an audience, rather than growing exponentially with hollow blog endorsements.
The precocious trio — think early Stevie Ray Vaughan & Double Trouble or Rory Gallagher — wrapped up another tour of the States last week, but they’ll be back here soon. They’re loving their growing slice of Americana so much that they’ll return for their fourth tour of the States later this month, a run that begins in Anaheim in late February and ends at the Beale Street Music Festival in early May.
I sat down with the three members of Back Door Slam before their recent show at New York’s Mercury Lounge, and since I try not to contribute to the delinquency of minors (only one of them is 21 years old, the other two are 20), we shared Cokes and Sprites as they shared tour stories and their impressions of the road to stardom. Read on after the jump for much more on the best young band of blues musicians on the road today…
You gotta love an edition of the Friday Mix Tape that begins with unreleased ’70s pornofunk and ends with Mason Jennings. If that doesn’t scream eclecticism, I suggest cleaning the
