Show Reviews
UKELELE Loki, Smoosh, and the Dresden Dolls collaborated on May 27th at the Ogden Theatre to fill the sound waves with merry semi-Goth rock to a crowd that, despite their dreary stereotypically induced look was enthused.

Ukulele Loki performed first, and their act was more optical than musical. They looked like some big ol’ inbred mountain family and each family member was playing an instrument decent enough to concoct some civilized polka. Their highlight was the End, where some crazed acrobat twirled herself on a suspended white veil, with lights makings the scene more crazed than it should have been. With the music and acrobatic plights, it felt like a bad acid trip at Cirque du Soleil.

Smoosh was next, a teen sister duo, who don’t look that young if you have poor eyesight or can repress the pervert instinct deep within you. One sister played the piano and sang, while the other was a drummer who threw her voice in the ring now and then. At first, the drums were discordanent with the other sister, and at times inappropriately rock-oriented, but mostly when she was attempting to sing, drum, and shake her maracas. The singer was poppy and tuneful, her piano melodies played perfectly with her softly edged voice. A bass player would randomly materialize, and she later transformed into a xylophone player. Their set was overall solid, and they left an impression on anyone unfamiliar with them. (If you haven’t heard of them, history shows you will. Even at their supple ages, they have managed to get on relatively ape tours.)

After one of the most ridiculous interludes I have ever endured, the Dresden Dolls emerged in masks and thrift-store garb with flowers and moved the way a praying mantis does before it bites off its mates head. They broke into a fantastic Pink Floyd cover, In the Flesh, and rode the momentum to display their creepy cabaret style: it was mournful yet angry, music riddled with melody that came from the frenzied but precise piano playing and the hectic and unbelievable drum rhythms.

The crowd was incredibly dedicated, with all of the dark clothing, the smiles seemed to radiate in the dark of the theatre. The Dolls could of shit in their collective mouths and the crowd would have still gleamed with joy.

Both members of the band have their craft perfected. Brian Viglione had a relentlessly dramatic stage presence, and would seamlessly go from acting out Palmer’s words with swaying and head movements to beating the hell out of his drum set, then being a mime for a while until he sang, and then go back to perpetually swinging his arms in the correct place. It looked like a crying octopus drumming. Amanda Palmer flawlessly wailed on her piano, she was sociable and funny when talking to the crowd and her voice was interesting: it has its own feel to it, a baritone with vast range with a punk somewhere deep inside that occasionally would stumble into the whiney category. Her high point came during the “Gardener,” where Brain played acoustic guitar and she walked around the entire theatre with a flower, undoubtedly an intimate moment for their followers, as she sang like a searing love letter.

There was an omniscient film crew, that were constantly hovering over and in the faces of both members, and one that could not and was not ignored by either band or crowd at one point it was even acknowledged by Palmer. While I don’t want to suggest the Dolls are savage exhibitionists, it does make you wonder how much of the extras they threw in (such as the warm Theatre walk and the Karma Police cover with Smoosh) were just to sex up the film.

Their sound was remarkably full for only having two members, but the possessed drumming ties everything together like fallopian tubes on an infertile woman. Their genre is still undefined, but whatever the hell it is they do it well.

The Dresden Dolls
Show Review
May 27, 2008
Review Written by Al Elio-
Al.Elio@BrainDeadMedia.Com
Pre Concert Necessities:

Pseudo-trendy shirt and hoody, sideways hat from Volcom and no belt.                 CHECK

Chillum and pack of Parliaments/Prime Times                                                        CHECK

McCormick’s smuggled brazenly in an Aquafina                                                     CHECK           
40$ from Pops(He thinks it’s for gas!)                           CHECK

Looks like you’re ready for the Pepper and Slightly Stoopid show at Red Rocks, bro.
On a drizzly and uncharacteristic night in Morrison, Colorado, Brain Dead Media kicked their coverage off by talking to the drummer from Pepper, Yesod Williams. Yee, a down to earth guy sipping on Hawaiian water, talked about the band’s varying influences, their Hawaiian heritage, various big tours, putting out an album on their own label, and the general state of music. Check out the interview page for the entire interview.
Pepper came on just as the drizzled discharge began to relent, shirtless and in wigs, which made you wonder if they were there to challenge someone to beach volleyball or shock Red States. They came onstage to the tune of their Savior, Bob Marley, and most in the crowd ingested their own form of self-consecrated Communion at the mere mention of the grand patriarch.

Pepper is a three-piece reggae/rock/hip hop with a hint of punk thrown in their schizophrenic repertoire. A typical song consisted of a constant smooth drum rhythm, weaving bass, and then brief spasms of guitar before the same Pentatonic scale interlude solo over and over again. Lead singer, Kaleo Wassman, had a howling and controlled voice that was a nice compliment to the guitar seizures. Their highlight was their hit single from the 2004 album In With The Old, “Ashes.” They would play songs from their new album, Pink Crustaceans and Good Vibrations, to much acclaim from their minions.

If anyone is considering entering the public relations business, a Pepper show is an excellent case study. Consider this: a mediocre novelty band with one kindahit playing with another relative unknown being able to sell out Red Rocks Amphitheatre, a world renowned venue. It shows clone dedication by their fans and a relative good standing in music in general. They have a brilliant in-show feature: you can “call” the band during their set, leave an enthusiastic message and they will call 5 people back to hang out with them after their set. Not only is it a burrowing idea that will spew good reputation to all, but they have their fans’ cell phone numbers to send them shit whenever they want. Speaking of shit, here is an approximate translation of Pepper’s onstage banter:

“Fuckin, shit, Denver glad to be here WHOO, Ganja smoking shit, We totally swim in Jaeger like Michael Phelps, SHIT, we’re from the fuckin’ Big Island, Fuckin’, I’m Horny, Fuckin’ Denver, Shit!”

The band, while having mastered the relatively limited craft of reggae rock, sound plaugerizingly close to Sublime. In our interview, Yee was quick to point out Sublime as one of their biggest influences. But they definitely blurred any and all distinction between paying homage to a holy idol and blatant stealing for bread (musical cred.)

They were shamelessly stumbling down the treacherous stairs of Red Rocks, bumping amped shoulders with others in the same situation and mutter something meant to be threatening. They were vomiting in each other’s hair and licking it back up to regain the alcohol secretion. They were picking up their pants when they started swinging on their knees due to the Belt Drought of ‘08. The crowd for the Pepper/Slightly Stoopid show was about one of the most intoxicated groups you’ll find. Whether this is a result of early-teened youngish gone wild with psychoactive possibilities or one last black blotch in the memory before summer ends, this crowd was more fucked up than most shows, a fact which the crowd would wildly reaffirm when one of the bands acknowledged it.

Slightly Stoopid started onstage with two drummers, one furiously beating a regular kit and one giving quick high fives to bongos. The rest of the band wandered on as well, what with their lead singer with a poisonous frog in his throat and sounding like a Latin teacher on high doses of amphetamines and all. The guitar mostly sounded like that of Pepper, with concisely placed spasms of a chord, only with a more spacey sound. Their highlight was breaking into When the Saints GO Marching In, but the crowd seemed to be having lucid wet dreams about Pepper too much to pay full attention to Slightly Stoopid. Their saxophone player gave the band a much needed twinge of originality, because without the differences in vocals, they sounded a lot like Pepper. They played an alright set.

It was a strange night in Morrison, Colorado, but no matter who steps on the stage, Red Rocks Amphitheatre can turn an alright concert into a memorable event.

Pepper & Slightly Stoopid
August 15, 2008
Review by Al Elio:
Al.Elio@BrainDeadMedia.Com
Punk rock’s ghost descended upon music’s hallowed stage, Red Rocks, on Friday night and kicked, spit and danced on the stage for hours. The first and rare Punk on the Rocks debuted.

From the underground, rowdy punch-drunk outings at CBGB’s and the outrageously overrated Sex Pistols to the graveyard winds of today’s punk, almost no one could foresee a group of punk genealogists piling bodies into the historic Red Rocks Ampitheatre.  But, invoking any living punk life-force, the attitude loomed.
The date, inconsequential, was August 22nd 2008, and the setting was Red Rocks on a normal Colorado summer day. The first annual Punk on the Rocks was showcased, and the most affluent punks showed up. Those who could forsake the notion of having to scrape for 10$ bar shows made their way down to Morrison to see the Street Dogs, the Bouncing Souls, the Mighty Mighty Bosstones, and NOFX. (The Circle Jerks were originally on the bill, but they failed to show up due to their lead singer’s poisoned food. Either that or consumption.)

The East Coast Punk Tilt began when the Street Dogs (Boston) took the stage to the tune of Jimi Hendrix’s “Star Spangled Banner,” a badass way to start anything. They broke into their highly evolved rendition of punk, that being the break from 3-chord songs and constantly coughing speakers. They’re able to make a clean transition from ozone smacking, kick in the junk punk to harmonica humming, acoustic reminiscent tunes without breaching a tryingtoohardtoseperate barrier in an attempt to be different, man. Front man Michael McColgan, while containing the archetypal punk voice, was like a weird magician at a 7 year olds twisted birthday party: constantly engaging, whether it was by coercing fans into yelling or clapping or swaying their limbs or connect on any lyrical level. They are simply one of the best punk acts to originate in the last 5 years.

The Bouncing Souls (New Jersey) followed a band with a name which indicates existential mayhem, right? Their lead singer, Greg Attonito, charged on stage looking like a waiter at a wayfaring seafood restaurant in a white collared shirt with rounding white cuffs. They played a standard punk set: amphetamine drums, tearing guitar and OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH vocals, with company man lyrics. A prototypical punk band, they didn’t attempt to hurdle over any punk barriers and grazed on the readily available ground. They played a Misfits cover and gave a Kinks song a punk tilt. Talking to Bouncing Soul veterans, they lacked the usual zolt of energy they usually interject. Greg would still curl up like a wounded Rollie Pollie, and then crawl around like a punctured fetus gasping for its last breath, but according to some lacked his typical animation.

The Mighty Mighty Bosstones (Boston) came on looking like 1950 appliance salesmen in gray tweed suits and short ties that looked like exclamation points. Their assorted sound is a neighborhood bar soundtrack: a punky distorted lead guitar, subtle Pop Rocks bass, elementary drum patterns, trailed by the trademark flow and ebb of their wild-eyed sax and trombone. Their set was wild and fun, displaying their signature Benzedrine ska style that made them fairly well known. They had a constant distraction on stage: a merry ol’ guy doing a little jig throughout, with the towering highs of a speed freak twitching and tweaking and the inevitable lows of a MDMA sad soul experiencing nerve damage, involuntary vicious muscle tremors. They played a fun set, one that threw any punk preconceived notion like a……

\PLASTIC CUP FILLED WITH THE BASEMENT OF UNWANTED WARM BEER MIXED WITH MOUNTAIN RAIN

that would pelt guitarist Eric Melvin in the face.

NOFX took the stage to flying plastic and lighters, adding to their arsenal of talking to the crowd. A stand-up comedians approach, they tore down the idea of a wall between the act and the consumer, and would converse collectively to the crowd. When they were done being ironic and funny they would rip into a drunken 2 ½ minute, 3 chord song like “Murder the Government.” They played mostly songs from their apolitical album, Punk in Drublic, and yet seemed to be willing to make fools of themselves rather than do so in music.

For those of you with no Colorado affiliation, the Democratic National Convention is being held in Downtown Denver this next week. While subtle Democratic Party jabs were being treacherously twisted in the unsuspecting sides of what folks would suppose young folks with Democratic leanings, the treacherous Obama-Transmitted-Virus was perpetrated on innocent music likers and lovers. At the end of the Mighty Mighty Bosstones set, a gargantuan poster featuring an outline of Barack waved in the wind to the crowd with the word “DREAM” inspiring untold amounts of people previously disenfranchised by politics. Had this been a poster of John McCain or George Bush (BUCK FUSH) the effort would be decried as an outrageous act of unyielding, free-wheeling fascism, a ruthless mechanical arm of the right-wing propaganda machine. But when it’s Obama, it’s just civic encouragement.

Red Rocks is a venue that has displayed legends like the Beatles, Johnny Cash and Sonny and Cher, and on Friday night the first annual Punk on the Rocks showed that it belonged. Not purely through music, but through the ideal that whatever your musical philosophy, it’s about promoting evolving and growing music that shutters at the standard and doesn’t live in the exaggerated and glorified neurons of the past.  This crowd wouldn’t want to hold your hand, but snap it in half if you’re a fake piece of shit.

2008 Punk Rocks Show
August 22, 2008
Show Review by Al Elio:
Al.Elio@BrainDeadMedia.Com