Gift of the Year, Band of a Lifetime: Empire!

One of my favorite things about music is that the more bands you get into, the more there are to get into. Since I started listening to indie and punk rock, it seems like the treasure trove of lost bands waiting to be discovered will never be exhausted. One of my latest addictions has been Generation X, the British pop punk outfit that launched Billy Idol's international fame, much to the dismay of punk purists everywhere. I'll admit they're cheesy, but they put out a handful of spectacular pop masterpieces, including a song I can't get enough of, Ready, Steady, Go. (Download the mp3.)


While Generation X certainly doesn't fall into the lost bands category, an offshoot of the band featuring two Gen X members (drummer Laff and guitarist Derwood) does. Empire put out a record in '81 that apparently got little to no backing from the label and has since become relegated to cassette tape and burned CD distribution by the likes of Henry Rollins and other die hard proteges, many of whom most likely crashed on the Dischord house couch a time or two. It turns out Empire has become known as a major influence on the emo scene. After listening to it, I'm not sure there could have been an emo scene without it.

The band's limited oeuvre was finally released a while back as the Expensive Sound album. Well, I got the CD for a Christmas gift, and our stereo was pumpin' that shit out pretty much non-stop after I unwrapped this forgotten gem. As a big-time fan of old school D.C. and emo stuff like Soul Side, Rites of Spring and of course Fugazi, it amazes me that I never heard of these guys, and saddens me that I never heard their stuff till yesterday!






Honestly, I can't remember the last time I fell so hard for a band so immediately. Rather than try to describe their stuff, I urge all lovers of punk rock, even if yer not big emo fans, to track down the Empire CD (you should be able to buy it from the label, Poorly Packaged Records). You won't be disappointed.

Another Tree Dies for Christ

So, I finally got hold of the ol' digital camera and took a few snapshots of The Punk Rock Kitchen Christmas tree.






Check out a couple more pics here.

Merry Kitschmas

So, the Punk Rock Kitchen headquarters are lookin' pretty kitschmasy these days. Yep, we celebrate Christmas here, but the religious symbols aren't our decorations of choice (and the whole Jesus for irony's sake is so overdone and cheesy at this point). This year, rather than an angel or star topping the tree, there's a monkey up there. It's been Homer in his undies the past few years, but I decided to switch it up. I'll get a pic or two of this year's tree and other adornments in the next day or two. (Somebody insists on keeping the digital camera in his bag that he takes to work, so of course it's not here!)

Here's a pic of me and the kitty from a couple years ago:






Today I'm finally going to start on a shadow box display featuring mementos from our trip to Lesvos, Greece three years ago. Our next big trip, this time to Costa Rica's Nicoya Peninsula, is comin' up soon, so I figure it's about time to complete the Greek thing. Unfinished projects? Who, me?

Also on the agenda is Christmas food prep. On the menu (all from scratch of course): white chocolate and peppermint hot chocolate (spiked with chocolate liquer and probably some Irish whiskey) for the morning, later on stuffed hot cherry peppers, Armenian style stuffed grape leaves, and maybe some olives and nuts, (and maybe a few drinks), even later grilled pizza (pesto with roasted red peppers and ricotta, and marinara with cured olives and fresh mozzarella), more drinks, and for the sweet-tooth satisfaction, peanut butter marbled brownies and my fave classic Italian cookie, sesame cookies....Aw Yeah!

Then we'll roast the cat with chestnuts over an open fire in our traditional sacrificial ritual to honor the golden calf of materialistic debauchery.

The Punk Rock Kitchen Attacked!

Wow. I'm super bummed right now and it's all because I'm letting this evil email I just received totally get me down. The contents: "you guys totally ripped off the post punk kitchen. your not punk rock and your site is garbage. Knock it off you hipsters!"

Turns out there's a Post Punk Kitchen. It's a cable access show and site out of Brooklyn. Unlike The Punk Rock Kitchen, it seems to focus on vegan stuff in the more "traditional" punk cooking way.

Hey -- I'm willing to give credit where it's due, so kudos to The Post Punk Kitchen, which looks pretty cool from what I can tell. I contacted them and hope to hear back. I guess I just don't want any of the The Post Punk Kitchen's creators to mistakenly think I ripped them off, since Cookie Chaos! is entirely the product of my own silly imagination. I'd never heard of them till this morning.

This is not the first time I've been the target of some inconsiderate reactionary. I've received plenty of hate mail as a result of things I've written in my commentary column, The Lowbrow Lowdown, so it's nothing new. Still, it's an example of what I hate most about the Web and immediate digital communication forms -- the fact that people forget a human being will be the recipient of their attack, not some soul-less machine.

It's Edukashunal

Well, I realized the Pixies played U-mass at the show I caught, so they did play one Trompe le Monde tune. Again, total gyp. Oh, and all you politically-correct etymology buffs out there: ask me if I care if I offended any goddam gypsies or gypsum miners by using the term gyp.

So, it's decoratin' day at PRK headquarters. I'll also be preparin' my famous stuffed cherry peppers and dolmas (a.k.a. stuffed grape leaves) so they can marinate and get extra yummy for Christmas.

And Their Pants Have No Rooooom

Weaal, I caught the Pixies show yesterday at Hammershits. Jeezus they're fat. OK -- just Black/Frank/Whatever and Kim, but still. What happened to cute widdew Kim? I guess food is her new addiction. Joey looked great though. As for Lovering -- well, I really couldn't see him well at all.

But of course I went for the tunes not the scale tippin'. They played lots and lots of Surfer Rosa, Come on Pilgrim and Debaser (highly overrated album in my un-humble opinion). They played 2 Bossanova tunes, including Velouria which was incredible-sounding. And the extended jam-out Caribou was really great, too. I'm not sure what was up with Kim's rendition of Heaven. The song's supposed to kick in at some point, but her version never had the rockin' payoff.

Besides the sound SUCKING HARD while Mission of Burma played (a major disappointment, with no blame placed on them), Pixies played NO Trompe le Monde. No mother fucking god damn Trompe le Monde. Fer chrissakes. What a gyp man! They totally dissed their awesome swan song! Don't get me wrong, I love the other shit, too. But I really really love Trompe le Monde and Bossanova best, and although I expected Bossanova to get the cold shoulder, I didn't expect to for TLM to get the short end of the Pixie stick. Oh, and the sound wasn't so good for the Pixies either.

Maybe I'm wrong -- they may have played one TLM tune. I'll have to check set lists online. Still, I'm a pissed about that.

Overall, I did love seeing them again, and admit that my eyes were welling up from time to time. I typically don't get really emotional, especially during shows. It was weird. Of course, the whiskey and those hits off the one-hitter from the guy in front of me may have contributed. Or maybe it wasn't the drama of seeing a favorite band get back together and play. Maybe it was sheer depression induced by the knowledge that so many uptight handkerchief-wearing whores are Pixies fans.

Final take: I did dig it, even the cheesy backlit silhoueutte lighting effects.

Always the knob with Morrison

My friend Alex sent out a link to a hilarious jab-fest on the Guardian site. It plows through the big names in rock over the past 30-40 years and tears 'em all a new one. The Liz Smiths of rock 'n' roll will be apoplectic after reading the first few tirades. Even if you dig the targets (including The Stones, Neil Young, Brian Wilson and Elvis), you'll crack up at the commentary. Check it out.

Unbang the Drum: It's The Live Ones!

All right! The moment has finally arrived, folks. Brooklyn's finest, The Live Ones, are playing tomorrow night at the Laila Lounge in B'lyn (at 11pm, 113 North 7th between Wythe and Berry, L train to Bedford). They're my fave local band and one of my fave bands, period at this point. These guys always rock my saggy socks off and it's been months since they last played, so I've been jonesin' hard!

After I got their email about the show, I went outside to finish stuffing our monstrous pile of backyard leaves into trash bags. You know the whole neighborhood got a little taste 'a The Live Ones when I was out there hoistin' the foliage!

I'm tryin' not to get too fucked up lately since I always get really hungry the next day and blow my self-imposed pre-Christmas barely-eating regimen (I know it's stupid, but so am I, so it works out well). I planned on giving blood tomorrow though, and the pint deficit compounded with The Live Ones factor doesn't bode well for tomorrow night's sobriety factor. And then there's the Pixies show Monday! Man, who am I kiddin'? I like whiskey too damn much for that shit!

I'm sitting here freezing my arse off in this icy cold house. I work from home, and since it's just me and the kitty during the day, I feel it's too much of an indulgence for me to turn the heat up. But by the end of the day, my teeth are nearly chattering. Hey, I said I was stupid, didn't I?

I'm beginning to show my anal-retentive, non-punk rock side. Uh-oh!

I told myself I'd spend the afternoon writing my commentary column, The Lowbrow Lowdown, since I haven't updated it in over a month, so I guess it's back to the grill again....

The Black Lips Can Sniff My Left Tit

Strong words, I know, but well-deserving in my never humble opinion. Last night we hit the Wowsville going away shindig at Siberia. All the bands were fun, and although I was feelin' a bit knackered I was havin' a cool time. The last band, The Black Lips (God knows why they went on after the far superior and better known Little Killers), is a contingent of marginally talented high school kids (maybe they've reached college age by now, not sure) who play mediocre jingly stones style stuff. Nuthin' special at all, but for some reason they've established an incomprehensible but small following, probably 'cause they're kids, therefore a novelty.

So, they take the stage and the barely legal suicide girls in attendance, slimy bud-quaffin' rock 'n' rollers and the like go nuts. Hey, still no sweat -- that is until, mid-song #1, some ASSHOLE decides to toss a lit (lighted -- whatever) firecracker into the crowd. I think it was one of the band members. Anyway, the thing crackled and popped and sparked every which way, clearing the crowd away from it's landing pad and stinkin' up the joint in the process.

Call me crazy, but I don't appreciate senselessly aggressive acts approved under the guise of rebellious fun. This type of shit is akin to some big, drunk bruiser starting a violent one-man mosh pit or somebody throwin' a bottle at the band. It's obnoxious and juvenile and gets my Italian/Irish blood boiling!

That's why all those snickering little fuckers pleased with their forced debauchery can sniff my left tit.

I Needs Me a Rock 'n' Roll Doctah

Oh yeah. Tonight I'm gonna get a little rock 'n' roll injection from the NYC specialists, The Little Killers. They're playin' the Wowsville Splitsville party at Siberia. Somehow I've managed to never see a show at Siberia yet, but I hear it's cool. Anyway, I've been bitch/bummed central the past few days, but the sun's shinin' and I'm in the mood to sink a few drinks and play a little air guitar baby!

So, today I'll be sendin' out a couple copies of Cookie Chaos! to some kiddies in NY and D.C. I'm also gettin' ready to decorate a whole bunch of holiday cookies for a little sideline bitness I've got going. I've a couple orders totalling 4 dozen, so I hope to get a lot of decorating in before tonight.

That is all.