Nate Fitzbutler did a remix to Kanye West’s and Kendrick Lamar’s “No More Parties in LA” called “No More Parties in SD”. He said, "we made this track to try to bring some national buzz to our city that’s always been in the shadow of the LA music scene."

Niko Sitaras from the San Diego based dream rock band Paper Days says, "We just released our new EP 'Fun For Family & Friends'. Our release party is on Feb 19th being hosted at the Irenic (with The Bash Dogs & Splavender). 

Panic Is Perfect is an indie-pop group from San Fran and they are touring in support of their new album, Cellspace, which drops tomorrow on Strange Loop Records. They'll be playing at The Loft @ UCSD on Feb. 12!





 

 

 

 

ComiCon 2006 - Meeting Q
(A Report from ComiCon 2006)
8/13/06 Kimberly Boyd



I'm sure I am not alone when I say have been a trekkie for many years. From drinking games in college (Make it so, Number One) to teaching my daughter of 5 the difference between Klingons and Romulins, Star Trek and all it's generations have always been a part of my generation. So imagine the thrill I felt when I ran into Q, the omniscient, mutable trickster of intergalactic space, at the 2006 ComiCon. There he was, right in front of me, and in one of my more loquacious moments, I blurted out, "Q!" He looked at me, down at me I should say, with a wince that clearly expressed a desire to be called by his real name, John de Lancie, for goodness sakes. I summoned another attempt at a connection, "Can I have my picture taken with you? I'm a huge fan." "No, I'm sorry I can't, but if you want a picture they're taking pictures over here but they will cost." At this point I am having a clash of impulses and emotions. Hearing Q's voice is surreal- a voice from my own fond memories of the many journeys taken into that imaginative space where no one has gone before, and I want to go there with it. Yet the voice is here, in this present day, over-stimulated crowd of strangers (albeit strangers with common sci-fi/fantasy tendencies), and the voice is not friendly or welcoming. The voice is not saying, "We are so glad you loved the show and that we were a part of your life!" The voice is saying, "First of all, I am not really Q, and second of all, if you still want to pretend that I am Q, it'll cost you a few bucks."
While this may seem like an unfortunate and unusual occurrence at the astonishingly popular, fantasy-driven, geek haven that is ComiCon, I am here to report that it completely encapsulated my experience of the convention. I had heard about ComiCon since the mid 90's, and I had regretted having not gone and met the cast of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and later the Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone look-alikes. Every July, it sat right there, an attainable, "behind-the-scenes" mecca of all that was wildly fantastic, rebellious, autonomous, and just plain cool. So this year, I forked over $30, and I found out for myself the reality behind the marketing of fantasy.
I sat in traffic on Front Street for an hour, fought my way into an overpriced parking spot, loaded the two-year old into a stroller that I soon found was way to cumbersome for the crowd we would face, and got in line. There were about 15 different lines, lines for those with pre-purchased tickets, lines for those without, lines for this auditorium where Kevin Smith would speak in four hours, lines for the elevator, lines for child identification tags, and double-layer lines within the cordoned-off area for those just wanting in. When the gates finally opened, we pressed into the (thankfully air-conditioned) exhibition hall . Rows of vender booths extended beyond my visual horizon, some rearing up with ceiling-high cobras, others hung with life-size spidermen. It was a sight to behold, and I began wandering through in an overwhelmed daze, whiplashing this way and that trying to take in all that was being hustled. In a matter of an hour, there were tens of thousands of us in this hall all on cell phones, with video cameras and microphones, and of course, many in costume.
There are very few places on earth where Wolverine, Darth Vadar, Snoopy, Captain Jack Sparrow, Guy Fawkes, and every manner of Japanese Manga character all can meander peacefully through the same mob. We were met with the surreal experience of fiction becoming reality, but with little patches of duct tape and smeared make-up that set things off a tad. As I looked at the creatures milling about, and at the items for sale, I sensed an initial interest, an, "Ooh, that's kind-of cool!" But after a second, my enthusiasm would slack just enough to be caught up by another spectacle
blowing by. As one would stop for a closer look, soon all oglers in the
surrounding area would swarm in to see what secret was being hawked, what prize given away (DARK HORSE KEY CHAINS!) or what was so damned fascinating.

For the price of my ticket, I got a blurry series of fleeting moments. There was a Punk Rock Rabbit promising, "puke in every issue!"
Then a porcine, scantily-clad belly dancer sidling up to an indeterminate ninja for a cellphone photo. Then a bunny-eared space vixen haggling with a scruffy video internet businessman over a "vintage" copy of Battlestar Galactica. In the midst of this, I met Q, and while my enthusiasm peaked with the recognition of such a familiar and beloved character, I found myself disappointed when the fantasy was not reciprocated. So passed several hours.
With backpacks full of free promotional trinkets, (all of which ended up in the garbage after remaining slumped in the bag on our living room floor for a week), we finally headed back to the car, sweat pooled on our backs and mouths agape from fatigue and speechlessness. We did not opt to sit outside the auditorium with the many devotees waiting to see the headline speaker. We did not wait for a turn at the Dungeons and Dragons tables, or wait for a seat in the Anime theater. We did not bring a portfolio of our own comic art and wait in line with the packs of pale-faced youth so that a professional could suggest ways to "improve" the countless, desperate hours worth of scribbling we offered. And we did not participate in the costume parade and competition. So in many ways, we did not get the full ComiCon experience. I experienced enough of ComiCon, however, to report that I have been to the mountain, and the view was clouded.
As a final note, I must add that we also met Dean Haglund, Mulder's blond hippie-computer hacker friend on the X-Files and The Lone
Gunmen, and he was surprisingly friendly and welcoming. Perhaps there is
hope for us outsider, liberally-minded freaks to find that bond of imagination that connects us. If so, then we must celebrate it. Next time, in a smaller, less commercial, less frantic venue, perhaps people can meet and cry out together, "Oh Q, where art thou?"


    Lotushouse MP3 Sampler
    Maquiladora - The Revenge of Becky Royal (New Piano)
    Tenniscoats + Maquiladora - Hours
    High Mountain Tempel - Processional (An Invocation to Thee Angelic Sister)
    Raagnagrok - HJD
    Beggars - Will We Call It Love
    Maquiladora - Termez 1936
    Maquiladora - Song 26
    Buzz or Howl - Sendhe Mortu Chin Rigore
    Earthling Tempel - Celestial Inhabitants of the Sun
    Buzz or Howl - The Sins Of The Flower Are Visited On The Shunned
    Maquiladora - Light of the Rain
    High Mountain Tempel - The Ascended Master (Hang Gliding in Heaven)
    High Mountain Tempel - Fluctuat Nec Mergitur
    High Mountain Tempel - Tempel Walk
    Buzz or Howl - 05 Oct 05
    Buzz or Howl - Sun as the Destroyer of Dreams
    Live version at the Make Room SF 2005
    Maquiladora - In This Life
    Maquiladora - Simply to See You
    Maquiladora with Kawabata Makoto - Nampasen
    Maquiladora Maquiladora - Drunk and Lighting Fires (A Waltz)
    Maquiladora Maquiladora - Ritual of Hearts
    Maquiladora Maquiladora - Ankle
    Maquiladora - Mayday
    Loraine Loraine - Pasqually Old Pasqually

    Beggars - S/T
    by Pierro Scaruffi

    Maquiladora's Eric Nielsen and Bruce McKenzie joined forces with Skygreen Leopards' Glenn Donaldson to form Beggars, whose double-disc Beggars (Lotushouse, 2013) is a tour de force of ecstatic Eastern-influenced freak-folk. Mostly these pieces lean towards the traditional song format, although inevitably deformed by the musicians' pedigrees.

    The ghostly hyper-dilated drones of Ghost Coyote are imbued with quasi-Morricone western-movie guitar twang and even harmonica. The sweet lullaby and the trotting pace of Eureka My Love as well as the romantic honky-tonking Justine (with a refrain a bit reminiscent of Dylan's Blowing in the Wind) hark back to the heydays of country-rock. 2-3-74 Floating evokes the martial laments of the young Neil Young although diluted amid discordant guitar jamming and lulled by waves of funereal vocal harmonies. Berserker's Boogie is a lively and poppy almost-bluegrass tune. They even intone the singalong Queen Anne's Lace with drums, banjo and all.

    Thankfully, the spaced-out yodeling of Lullaby de Bourbon (memories of Aoxomoxoa-era Grateful Dead), the free-form quasi-jazz guitar and vocal interplay of Will We Call It Love, the seven-minute dreaming psalm Big Pink Sun and its sublimely disintegrating coda, remind us of what Maquiladora are best at. The 23-minute Midget Decapitates Clownis an ambitious concerto for suspense and agony. Far from being just a droning piece, it piles up sonic event after sonic event, producing the trancey effect out of a multitude of traumatic sounds. The chirping and tweeting that accumulates half-way into the piece decays into a nervous organic filigree and dies away in the most cryptic manner; one of the high points of Maquiladora's career.


    Earthling Tempel - Pilgrimage To Thunderbolt Pagoda
    by Aquarius Records

    Not sure if this is part 4, or just the first in a new multi part epic, hardly matters, what does matter is, this is another glorious expansive collection of meditative psychedelic abstract dronefolk ambience. Every High Mountain Tempel disc we're reviewed thus far has gotten played to death here, and this one doesn't appear to be any different. Well, at least in that respect. In one distinct way it is very different, HMT are not going it alone this time. They've assembled a pretty impressive collection of sonic alchemists and musical conjurers to help with this ritual, Isis Aquarian from the Source Family, Charles Curtis from La Monte Young's Just Alap Raga Ensemble, and two crews from the UK we've never heard of, Earthling Society and Astarism, but even with all those cooks in the kitchen, HMT and friends have managed to weave another dark minimal masterpiece, all hushed barely there guitar shimmer, drifting whispered vocals, delicate crystalline melodies, dense swirls of piano, warm swells of tape hiss, mysterious voices and field recordings, whirring organ, bowed steel strings... so lovely.

    If the liner notes are to be believed, two of the tracks feature Earthling Society on their own, and those tracks do sound different, much less free and sprawling, a bit more structured, like seventies UK acid folk, swirling and melodic and quite lovely. The final two tracks find the two groups in full on collaborative mode, and the gears shift to something much more space rocky and Hawkwindy, all blissed out and heart-of-the-sun, until the final track which is a strummy, delicate, moody chill out closer, a sort of dour doom folk drift, that makes a perfect ending.

    Super nice packaging, silkscreened oversized 4 panel sleeve, white on black, with the cd-r affixed to the inside. And of course, SUPER LIMITED!

    High Mountain Tempel - The Glass Bead Game by Aquarius Records

    Part three in the ongoing series of limited cd-r explorations from mysterious drone combo High Mountain Tempel, and like the two before it, the band continue to delve into some murky sonic underworld, again presenting loooong songs, each separated by brief sonic interludes, this disc seems feature more actual vocals, the opening track features a processed voice, that sounds a bit like throat singing, or a Speak And Spell, intoning some arcane message, interwoven with long drawn out tones, and a thick ropy buzz, super dark and intense and atmospheric. Elsewhere sampled voices surface, there are bits of chanting here and there, all peppered throughout the disc. But even with the extra voices, the focus here is still on dark, lugubrious, extended dronescapes.

    The sound of High Mountain Tempel is probably closest to Expo '70, as their various permutations of dronemusic seem to have a definite krautrock vibe, that gives the sound a sort of spaced out quality, and a subtle propulsion, but unlike Expo '70, HMT seem to have a distinct Eastern influence, much of the music is meditative and subtly dramatic, a bit soundtracky, and some of it sounds like it could be Japanese. Especially the way field recordings are incorporated into the sounds. Giving everything a definite texture, some of it sounding like it was perhaps recorded live in some hilltop temple. Which we would imagine is the idea.

    Not sure what else to say actually. This is indeed fantastic, brooding and malefic, but also shimmery and dreamy, sonically it has much in common with the first two installments, so definitely check out those reviews to read more about their 'sound'.

    Needless to say, fans of the drone and folks into the current crop of cd-r soundscapers will for sure dig this, but like the other HMT discs, this is more than simple drone music, this is ritualistic alchemical soundwork, one can almost imagine stumbling across a group of cloaked figures huddled around a fire in a forest clearing, tossing various powders into the flames, causing the fire to change color and cast beastlike shadows on the branches above, and this is the sound filtering through the forest like a black moonlit fog...
    SUPER LIMITED of course, packaged beautifully in a foldover silkscreened sleeve, gold metallic on red on the outside, black on red on the inside.

    High Mountain Tempel - A Screaming Comes Across The Sky - The Faultline Scriptures
    by Aquarius Records

    Record number two from this mysterious drone-kraut styled duo. Their last disc was a huge hit around here, so we were pretty thrilled to get our hands on this one, a logical sonic extension of the first, delving deeper into some murky tripped out twilit soundworld.
    The disc opens with shimmering clouds of gongs and cymbals, whirring and sizzling, suspended over a deep distant rumble, a delicate intro to a record at once hypnotic and lovely, dark and dense.

    The record is arranged into three epic tracks, interspersed with short sonic interludes, ranging from field recordings of crickets, looped chants (Elizabeth Clare Prophet if we're not mistaken), spirituals and mysterious liturgical songs, whirring drones, and backwards percussion, but it's the long tracks where the duo get to spread out, let their dense soundscapes sprawl.

    The three long tracks sounds like movements of a greater whole, clocking in at 15 minutes, 11 minutes and nearly 17 minutes respectively, each rife with creepy delayed vocals, churning guitars and smeared chords, roiling muddy whirls, which often dissipate leaving streaks of fragmented melody and haunting slowed down voices. Buried amidst the drones and whirs, are lullaby-like melodies, skittery percussion, streaks of grinding distortion, hidden voices, more field recordings, thick swaths of cavernous rumbles, little bits of electronic glitch and lots and lots of low end buzz.

    Packaged in a fancy navy blue fold over sleeve, screenprinted in white ink, with a photocopied insert with liner notes and song credits.

    LIMITED TO 150 COPIES! Each one hand numbered.

 

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