Posts Tagged ‘Coachella


It’s the final countdown


So I’ve been doing the Coachella warm-up countdown over at Examiner. Gratuatous self-promotion in 3….2….1….

CLICK ME FOR FREE MONEY. Just kidding. No, but click for my articles.

Also, I’ve become a full-time writer for,which I will also pimp:

All of my articles and reviews

Both avenues are quite fulfilling and MetalRiot is growing at a fine rate. I hope to one day take down, but not for any moral reason. The site is the gold standard and to top it would be monumental. I work with a good team of people and being a part of a successful project may open up doors I never thought possible.

As for concerts, this month and the next are totally packed just so long as promoters and bands hold up their end of the bargain and let me in.

This Friday is the first time I will be seeing Sleeptytime Gorilla Museum and the last time they will ever perform again (not true, they play one more show the next night but I wanted to sound cool).

Then Coachella is NEXT WEEK OH MY GOD and that should be most exciting. No interviews scheduled this year, so it may be a bit less hectic and disappointing than last year. I need more energy for the lasers, anyway.

Saturday, the biggest metal show of all time is coming to Indio and I get to see Metallica, Megadeth, Anthrax, and the mighty Slayer. Also, I may get to do an interview, which would I think cause me to stammer and freak out a bit.

Dredg’s new album comes out May 3rd and a show at the Roxy is due to accompany it. I’m close to being confirmed, but may have to go the night before, which isn’t too bad but I’ve never been a CD release show that didn’t involve a hometown friend being in the band.

May is sort of insane, with that Dredg show being in the same eight day period as Between the Buried and Me, Portugal The Man, Ghostland Observatory, Mogwai, and Coheed & Cambria. I’m only confirmed for the first and the last show of that list, with Coheed’s being a double set (acoustic included) and the entireity of their debut album being played with more promised content. If I do go to each and every show, it will be the best and worst week of my professional life. The pennies in clicks I get pale in comparison to how much gas I have to buy as well as time lost sitting in LA traffic as all six shows are in the City of Angels.

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$100/hr parking FTW

Pardon the internet shorthand, I only wish to get right to the point with how tremendously adversarial the forces of the universe were last Friday night before the Glassjaw concert. I touched on it with my review (click here) but the world was seriously out to get me.

I moved down to Long Beach without more than a sniff of the local terrain: I’ve been to Coachella half a dozen times, Disneyland twice, and that’s it. I don’t know my way around anything as I’ve never casually strolled through Sunset Blvd or down Rodeo Drive, and I certainly don’t bring any sense of direction to the table as it took me 18 years to map out my hometown just in time for me to move away for college. When preparing for a trek into the City of Angels, I rely on technology to give me a sneak peak into the world of motor vehicles I am about to enter. GPS, traffic view, maps, alternate routes, and lots of cursing went into figuring out my path.

Spoiler alert: it wasn’t pretty.

Continue reading ‘$100/hr parking FTW’


First Show of the Year!!!

Sorry for the exclamation points, but I am aflutter with the sun being back out and me being back in a tiny venue with loud music playing.

Murder By Death is my first band of 2011 and one I am fond of for multiple, brilliant reasons. I mean brilliant in the British sort of way, although the band is from Indiana so no relevance there.

Oh well.

Picking a song is really tough to demonstrate the value of this band so I think an Iron Chef platter is deserved.

I love concept albums and I love literary references: nerdy music is well thought out music. Time and effort is put into being meticulous and creative and the type of art that includes all of the great aspects of other art I love is more than worthwhile. So if you cannot properly pronounce “cello” or appreciate the subtlety of a violin or horn section, then please turn away as there is nothing to see here for you.

Still here?


The new posters are here! The new posters are here!

Here’s my list, thus far:

Black Keys
Chemical Brothers
Lauryn Hill
Crystal Castles
Boyz Noize
Flogging Molly
Pains of being pure at heart
marina and the fucking diamonds
Omar Rodriguez-Lopez

Arcade Fire
Bright Eyes
The Kills
Broken Social
One Day as a Lion
Erykah Badu
Paul van Dyk
Scissor Sisters
Gogol Bordello
Cage the Elephant

Duran Duran
Wiz Khalifa
Bloody Beetroots

42 bands

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Holy Christ on a Cracker, I’ve Been Busy

After getting the job with The Examiner, I didn’t expect to be working a whole lot. I figured an occasional band might stroll into town, and maybe something appealing would be nearby…but that was before concert season started. Now I’m adding hundreds of miles to my car and paying for parking more than a funeral procession.

What have I been up to, you ask? Ok, you didn’t ask, but I’m going to tell you anyway.

Continue reading ‘Holy Christ on a Cracker, I’ve Been Busy’


Eulogy: Death From Above 1979

The subtitle of this blog is “Where Music Goes To Die” so it seems fitting to write some parting words for the bands and artists that burned out or blew up, and either destructed or fate kept them from continuing. Some of the best have been cut short due to one or more member’s loss of life, or contract disputes and personal issues lead to  “creative” and irreconcilable differences. Whatever the case, losing a band you love is like losing a friend or group of friends: the companionship is gone and the walls may start to close in.

The first band was introduced to me in a normal fashion, but I forgot about them and the way they were re-introduced has a much better story. One filled with coconuts, Canadians, and Rock’m Sock’m Robots.

Canadian Moses invites you in


The Story of George

Peripheral characters fill our lives. Sometimes they teach us things that our closest friends can’t reach and often their distance makes for more honesty, because who lies to a complete stranger?

I told the story of Nick before, the drunkard with a weak stomach and a shitty sense of direction. That moment was priceless.

Coachella brought a whole cavalcade of characters, including a wheelin’ and dealin’, mohwak rockin’ son-of-a-gun named George. He arrived with Cuzinmank’s extended group and it was his very first Coachella. People’s first Coachella’s have the opportunity to bring new and crazy experiences to the uninitiated and I’m jealous whenever I see the first timers all wide-eyed and bushy-tailed.

I met George on Thursday night and after a handshake here and a “How ya doin'” there, George was off to jump into an art car shaped into a cassette tape, roaming the campsite looking for party people to party it up. An hour or so later he came back, raving about how cool it was, just to run back to it like a kid hearing the Ice Cream Truck rounding the corner. I didn’t see him again until the next morning. He was wearing a tie-die t-shirt with cut off sleeves, 80’s style.

The next morning, he was wearing a poncho. I don’t know. I don’t get it either.

HIs main joy seemed to be partying it up at the Sahara Tent and then utilizing the bartering system set up throughout camp, trading this and that for that and this. Illegal substances would be upgraded, and also a couple of blown glass rocks would come into his possession and there was much rejoicing.

Then the entire weekend passed…you know, that whole amazing musical experience thing. Three days come and go and I don’t see George anymore. Not back at camp, not during any band, not even passing by the port-o-johns.

Cut to Sunday night, when Alisha and I are saying goodbye to our band of merry men and women, wishing all safe travels and sweet dreams. We hit up said portable outhouses one last time en route to our distant tent. In the distance, however, was a band of people not ready to call Coachella quits just yet. These people exist every year, trying to squeeze every last hoot and holler out of the desert, but they generally burn out quickly and shut up soon enough to let me go to sleep.

Our paths eventually crossed and the group of 30 or 40 stopped right in front of us, stretched a blanket out in a gigantic circle, started chanting and ran under it to great applause and uproar. I had no idea what was going on, but started clapping in its awe and excellence.

When I turn around, who is standing there but Sir George, wearing what looked to be a gigantic squirrel pelt from the pecs up, still rockin’ the mohawk. I shake his hand while uttering “Where the hell have you been this weekend?”

Before I can get an answer, he runs off, smacks somebody in the back of the head and yells “SPACE MONKEYS!”

What in the fuck….

And that is the story of George!

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