La Vie En Robe

From Hollywood to Raleighwood

(photo by Greg Barbera)

Such was my trajectory this past weekend, when I took advantage of having three straight days off to do something I've been wanting to do for ages — visit my friends Gary, Greg and Erik in Raleigh, NC. Gary, I've known since my early days in LA; we met while both paying the bills on our way to something better by working at the Virgin Megastore in West Hollywood. Greg, I've known for about ten years now; back when he was the editor of NC's now-defunct Spectator, he tracked me down and sweet-talked me into writing reviews for his paper for a measly ten bucks a pop. Erik, well, I'd never actually met Erik before; we were introduced via MySpace by mutual friends, and realized we had a ton of stuff — musically and cosmically — in common. In fact, everyone who knew the both of us kept remarking about how much he reminded them of me, and vice-versa. All three of these dynamite gents now live in the Raleigh-Durham area, so I snagged a cheap plane ticket and dropped in on them.
    What transpired was about 55 hours of eating, drinking, jamming, intense conversations and general hilarity. Didn't do much sightseeing, unless you count a couple of resale shops and Slim's Downtown, but that was just fine with me; I was enjoying everyone's company too much to bother with the local museums or points of historical interest. Although Gary and Erik did take me to Clyde Cooper's, a BBQ institution in downtown Raleigh since 1938. The place boasts some mighty fine hush puppies and pork rinds (yes, I said pork rinds), but I confess that it didn't win me over to the cult of vinegar-based Carolina-style Q. Give me Arthur Bryant's in Kansas City, any day...
    Friday night was the more epic of the two evenings I spent there. First, Erik and I picked up Greg at some ale house in Durham near the new ballpark, whose name I can't remember; then we hit the Raleigh Times for some mighty fine burgers and Belgian beer; then on to Slim's in downtown Raleigh to meet up with Gary; and then on to an epic jam session with members of the T's, Gary's band, and the Static Minds, Erik's band, with Greg and I pitching in on guitar, bass and vocals when we had the chance. Can't remember everything we jammed on, though I know Neil Young's "Cinammon Girl," the Who's "Substitute" and "I Can't Explain," the Stooges' "Down in the Street" and the Rolling Stones' "When the Whip Comes Down" were all part of the equation. It had literally been six or seven years since I'd last plugged in a guitar and wailed with a full band, and it felt DAMN GOOD. How it sounded was probably another matter entirely...
    We were all pretty hurtin' the next day, but a greasy fry-up at Finch's put the four of us at least semi-right. Spent the late afternoon nodding off on Erik's couch while watching the University of North Carolina basketball game with Erik's lovely wife Robin, a massive hoops fan. (I figured that if you should read Homer's Odyssey while you're in Greece, you should definitely watch ACC basketball while you're in North Carolina.) Erik, Robin and I then fortified ourselves with some fine calzones at Moonlight Pizza before heading to the Landmark Tavern where Gary was tending bar. The place was positively crawling with post-frat douchebags, so we sat outside under the heatlamps and had fun counting the pairs of chinos that walked by. (I caught some good-natured shit from the locals for being the only person sitting outside who was actually wearing gloves — "You're not from around here, are you?") From there, it was on to an engagement party for the T's singer/guitarist Steven and his fiancée, where I met and rapped with a number of really cool people, ate some amazing home-cooked tacos, and almost coughed up a lung laughing as I watched Gary try to wrap up an uncooperative slice of apple pie for the road. Hopefully, he's remembered to retrieve it from his trunk by now...
    It was a whirwind trip, but a fantastic time; and while it felt great to get back to the desert (especially in its current warm and gorgeous state), it was easily the most fun I've had since this past Christmas in NYC. From what I saw, Raleigh definitely has a lot to recommend it — good food, cheap drinks, friendly people, fine ladies, easy acceptance of people with conceptual facial hair, etc. I miss my pals, I miss the constant yuks (most of which fell into the "you had ta be there" category) and I miss Erik and Robin's dog, Maeby, and theircat, Lola, constantly vying for my attention. Thanks for the good times, everyone; see ya during minor league baseball season, for sure!

More Eagles of Death Metal...

...but I make no apologies — as this was one of the most hilarious and enjoyable interviews I've done in ages. Plus, in addition to learning some inspiring romantic tips, you can check out their six-song, two-man set from the ShockHound stage, which we filmed right before the interview. I'd call that a win-win, however off-putting Jesse's moustache might be for some of you...

For the Love of Lux n' Ivy

As most of y'all know by now, Cramps frontman Lux Interior watusi'd his way off this mortal coil last week. Much as I loved them, I don't think I can add much about what they meant (in the grand musical scheme of things) to this fine, fine obit written by my pal Tim Stegall. I would like to say a few things, though, about what they meant to me...

I think it was my friend Tracy who turned me on to them back in high school, throwing "Human Fly" and a few other choice cuts onto a mix tape, and I was immediately enchanted by their combination of 50s horror flick imagery (it would be another coupla years before I learned about Screamin' Jay Hawkins or the Misfits) and no-budget rockabilly grind. I wanted to see them when they played the Metro soon after (this woulda been like '83 or early '84), but I couldn't afford a ticket; didn't actually wind up seeing 'em live until the late '90s — more on that in a sec...

When I got to college and began jamming with what would become my first band, our bassist Bob insisted that we cover "Goo Goo Muck" — a song whose rudimentary chord progression and lust-crazed monster lyrics put it right in our wheelhouse. Even the name we eventually decided on, Voodoo Sex Party, showed more than a touch of Crampsian influence.

But in many ways, the biggest influence the Cramps had on my life came from the interview Lux and his gorgeous and talented wife/guitar-slinger/partner in crime Poison Ivy Rorschach gave Re:Search's Incredibly Strange Music, Vol. I, in which they talked about some of their favorite records — many of which I'd never heard (much less even heard of) at that time. That interview single-handedly turned me on to Korla Pandit, Andre Williams, Little JImmy Scott, Ronnie Dawson and Charlie Feathers, to name but a few; but more than that, it opened my mind to a whole world of glorious trash that I'd been only dimly aware of up to that point. Obviously, the Cramps covered a lot of great songs (and saved many from utter obscurity) throughout their three-decade-plus career, but Lux and Ivy were also incredibly knowledgeable and articulate evangelists for a musical aesthetic that had hitherto been almost entirely ignored or dismissed by the mainstream rock critic establishment. It was from them (and from Kicks, the genius fanzine run by Billy MIller and early Cramps drummer Miriam Linna) that I learned that a deranged rockabilly side or a demented doo-wop platter could be as exciting as any 60s garage or 70s punk single, and I am a happier, better man for it. Check out the legendary Purple Knif Show — which is basically Lux getting down on the air and playing some of his favorite records in the guise of a '50s-style DJ — or this radio interview that they gave in 2004 for further elucidation and illumination.

I finally got to see them in '97 or '98 at the House of Blues with Carole (who actually once caught the band back in their Bryan Gregory days), and we were both absolutely blown away by them. Ivy, who looked like she hadn't aged a day since the band's inception, cranked out one reverb-caked riff after abother while wearing little more than a nude-colored body stocking, a vintage Gretsh and a bored sneer. Lux was absolutely out of his mind from the get-go, a shamanic Elvis in PVC pants with a microphone jammed halfway down his throat. The band played one classic cut after another, but the songs themselves were almost beside the point; what really mattered was the voodoo intensity which kept steadily ratcheting up as the night went on. Because unlike most record collectors who play in bands, Lux and Ivy didn't worry about trying to imitate their favorite artists or recordings — they went right past the notes, chords and lyrics and tapped straight into the primal, sexually-charged insanity that lay at the root of it all. At the end of the show, during a climactic encore version of "The Crusher," Lux (who was by now more or less naked) took a fearsome spill off the drum riser and on to a broken wine bottle that he'd recently emptied; it was scary enough that even Ivy briefly looked up to check on him, but he was fine. You wouldn't figure a guy with that kind of resilience would suddenly drop dead at the still-young age of 62, but there you go...

While I feel sad about Lux, I even feel even sadder for Ivy. Not only are the Cramps effectively over, but she's lost her husband and soul mate as well. Hopefully she's aware of just how much people loved her and Lux, and what a difference the Cramps made on so many lives, including mine. R.I.P., Lux; I know there will always be a lotta rhythm in your rockin' bones...

 

Thai Elvis Vs. Eagles of Death Metal

Drove in to LA the other night to catch The Eagles of Death Metal at the Henry Fonda, or the Music Box, or the Music Box in Henry Fonda's Colon, or whatever the fuck they're calling that venue these days.

(The above pic is of me and Eagles frontman Jesse "The Devil" Hughes, taken a coupla weeks back when he and drummer Joey Castillo dropped by the ShockHound headquarters to film a righteous live set for our site; Jesse had such a good time with us, he insisted that I take his copy of the latest issue of Buttman magazine as a parting gift. "It will change your life!" he enthused.)

Since my ShockHound colleagues and I had some time to kill before the Eagles' set, and none of us had any interest in seeing opening act The Living Things, we hit Palms Thai for dinner. Now, I'd never eaten there in my 15 years in LA, but I'd always heard about it — or more specifically, people had always told me about Thai Elvis, who provides the restaurant's musical entertainment. To be honest, I was a little disappointed; I'd been led to expect something wilder and campier, like an insane Thai dude in full Vegas jumpsuit-and-scarves regalia — as opposed to a straight-looking, helmet-haired gentleman doing karaoke with a minimum of movement. The cat's delivery was smooth, his tone excellent, and he did do a nice version of Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline"; but it didn't help that he was upstaged by both the dining-hall noise of of the joint and a giant metal sculpture of "The King" that towered over him at stage right. Not only did the statue have more dynamic presence than Thai Elvis, but its head was oddly warped and twisted and only sort of looked like the real Elvis. Imagine if Jesse Garon hadn't been stillborn, but had had his skull mangled by forceps during the birthing process, and you'll have some idea what this freakish thing looks like. The food was quite solid, though, especially the fried tofu, and a couple rounds of Singha beers put us all in the mood to rock...

The show itself was a lot of fun, though even with three albums to draw from — and despite Jesse's considerable charisma — the Eagles of Death Metal's songs just aren't varied or interesting enough to sustain a full 80 minute set. (Jesse himself admits that all their songs are basically just straight rip-offs of either early Ramones or "Brown Sugar," the latter of which popped up as a solo encore.) They did break things up with a rippin' version of Stealers Wheel's "Stuck in the Middle With You," featuring Josh Homme from Queens of the Stone Age on guest vocals. Overall, I'd give 'em higher marks for entertainment than Thai Elvis...

Josh — who originally founded the band with Jesse — actually returned to the stage several times over the course of the night, even taking over on drums for a song or two. It was kind of weird; Eagles is (are?) definitely Jesse's band these days, but it was clear that a lot of folks were there in hopes of seeing Josh; I even heard some dude yell out before the show started, "Come on, Queens of the Stone Age!" The thick-necked, buzz-cutted, goateed "bro" contingent in the audience was pretty high, and you could tell it wasn't because Eagles typically draw a lot of fine ladies; every time Josh came back onstage, this weird low-end rumble ("UHHHHHHHHHHH!!!") would emanate from the crowd, as if an army of Von Dutch-wearing zombies had suddenly been roused to semi-life by the sight of their leader. Which was funny, and odd, since Josh (at least going by my many interactions with him) is about as un-"bro" a dude as you can possibly imagine. I guess that's the curse that comes with being a famous rocker who's built like a football tight end; the mooks of the world can't help but want you to lead them to the promised land...

Anyway, 'twas a good night out in Hollywood, and that's never a bad thang. Back out in the desert now with a three-day weekend on my hands and very little in the way of time commitments or obligations; just hoping the rainy weather lets up by Sunday so's I can catch my first Palm Springs Chill game of the year. Have a lovely weekend, y'all...

Boy Howdy!

I have a new rule.

If you come and visit me in the desert, you must pose for a picture with my treasured CREEM Magazine Boy Howdy! can, and then post a "CREEM Profile" of yourself on your blog, or your Facebook or MySpace page. There will be no exceptions. Here's mine, then...

CREEM’S PROFILES
(Pronounced “Boy Howdy!”)

DAN EPSTEIN

Home: The Land of Bono (Sonny, not the Irish dude)

Age: Old as the hills, younger than yesterday

Profession: Word-slinger, editor, video host, company freak

Hobbies: Grillin’, swillin’ and chillin’, not to mention humpin’, bumpin’ and thumpin’.

Last Book Read: Advanced Sideburn Cultivation by Henrik Ibsen and Noddy Holder

Last Accomplishment: Enduring three years of soul-crushing misery, tragedy and frustration — and still emerging from the other end with joy in his heart, a gleaming smile upon his mug, and a veritable arsenal of unprintable oaths upon his tongue.

Quote: “Phantom Planet? That’s like bringing a limp dick to an orgy!”

Profile: This New York-born, Ann Arbor/Chicago-bred, robe-wearing worshipper of pagan gods (and devoted adherent of the ancient Italian philosophy of Menefreghista) has been fueled for most of his life by the twin obsessions of music and baseball. Look for him every week on “Taco Tuesday” at ShockHound.com, and check out his regular blog at www.lavieenrobe.com. And keep an eye out for his book on baseball in the 1970s, which should finally be out one of these friggin’ days.

Beer: “I ASSUME you drink Boy Howdy!”

25 Fings

Already did this as part of a Facebook meme I got tagged on. But in the grand tradition of writers re-purposing their material for different publications, I'm gonna post it here as well...

25 Things About MEEEE...

1. I am very proud to share a birthday with Link Wray, one of my all-time favorite guitarists. No one, not even Ron Asheton, ever made a guitar cuss quite like Link did.

2. I am an adventurous eater and enjoy ethnic cuisine from all over the world, except for Ethiopian food. That shit just plain sucks.

3. I think Pearl Jam basically ruined American rock music. I have always been utterly mystified by (and thoroughly immune to, and profoundly annoyed by) their enduring appeal.

4. I used to wear big silver hoop earrings, but I took ‘em out about seven or eight years ago and the holes closed up. I am seriously considering getting my ears pierced again.

5. I don’t have any tattoos, though I want to get a tattoo of a Tiki mask or god on my left bicep. I’m still looking for the right illustration, though.

6. Unlike most people, I am continually getting more adventurous, more playful and less serious as I grow older.

7. I have recently developed an appreciation for argyle socks. They look absolutely awesome with white loafers.

8. I have been a Cubs fan since moving to Chicago in 1980, but the Dodgers were my first favorite NL team. (Dodgers third-sacker Ron “The Penguin” Cey” was my first favorite player.) I have gone back and forth between the two teams over the years. I may start rooting for the Dodgers again now that Jeff Kent is gone — esp. after the way the Cubs played like pants-wetting little leaguers in the last two NLDS — but I’m way too indoctrinated into/damaged by the Cubs cult to ever completely cut the cord.

9. The Tigers have always been my favorite AL team, and I still think their home uniforms are the coolest and classiest that any major league squad has ever worn. Suck it, Yankees.

10. My first big league ballgame was May 30, 1976 at Tiger Stadium. The Yankees beat the Tigers 4-0 on home runs by Thurman Munson and Roy White, but the most memorable part of the day was seeing Yanks manager Billy Martin get tossed out of the game while handing the NY lineup card to the home plate umpire.

11. I wish I could sing like Al Green and play guitar like Grant Green. I have no desire to do anything like Seth Green.

12. CREEM magazine made me want to write about music, though I had no idea at the time that I would actually be doing exactly that — and actually making a decent living at it — decades later.

13. I have, at various times in my life, very seriously wanted to be an archaeologist, an architect, a historian, a film maker, and a rock star. I have no regrets whatsoever about how it all turned out.

14. Whenever I watch The Kids Are Alright, I wish I were playing in a band again.

15. Lemmy (yes, THAT Lemmy) once told me that I “drink pretty good for a journalist.” This was shortly before we were kicked out of a hotel for singing Walker Brothers songs on his balcony.

16. I’ve thrown up from drinking too much only once in my entire life. Zakk Wylde and the late Dimebag Darrell were directly involved.

17. I’ve known since I was five years old that I don’t want to have kids.

18. I’ve also known since I was five years old that I totally loves the ladies. Blame Tina Louise and Barbara Eden for that.

19. A beautiful woman without a sense of humor (or a love of music) is about as appealing to me as stale bread.

20. I have been told way too many times that I look like Jack Black. There was even a kid who worked at my old dry cleaners that was completely convinced I was Jack Black. (“What movie are you working on now? School of Rock was dope,” etc.) But at least I’ve never been mistaken for a member of the Brand New Heavies, unlike my dear friend Eric.

21. I love to travel, but have spent way less time out of the US than I would like. My two-month trip to Greece in the summer of 1981, with my friend Aristotle (natch), was an utterly life-changing — not to mention supremely hilarious — experience. I still intend to write a book about it someday.

22. Authenticity, joy, kindness and beauty are the four things that most inspire and drive me these days.

23. The only things I really miss about Chicago are my friends and Italian Beef, and not necessarily in that order.

24. I think BBQ always tastes better when it’s served from behind bulletproof glass.

25. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my entire life than I am right now.