Saturday, June 23, 2012

Frantic Flintstones - Freaked Out & Psyched Out
Drunkabilly

Further abhorrently good-natured tales of the endless fun of the dark slide from the psycho-circus crypts that ring-leader Chuck Harvey's been creeping out n' cracking up from for over a quarter of a century. This second Drunkabilly release finds him gleefully racking up the original Flintstones err, frantic rockabilly, with ever more delightful descriptions of his dietary-affixiated lifestyle, playing up his unhinged persona by several shots, quite relishing his survivor status, not unlike Lemmy or Jason Spaceman, cavorting ceaselessly in celebration around the crossroads of his own physical & mental disintegrationals & degredations with childlike joy. Relocating back to Berlin from Brazil, this doesn't hit as many heights as the ridiculous avalanche of lunatickling that 2009's 'Psycho Samba My Way' revels in. The eternal drug-addled deviancy may become a one trick pony but there's nay denying the knack for the life and the road - yes, chuck, the trip even - where psychobilly stompers twist & twitch among smoky country swingers. Likewise, it may not tick lyrical dexterity or subtlety boxes (find another band & music for that), but it does sort you out a square slab (one being savaged by a circular saw in human form. And a stetson) of rampaging fun. And also something to play next time you hear anyone whinge about over-indulging.
Stu Gibson

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Holly vs. The Novaks: A Scrap-Paper Interview

I try not to get drunk when I go to see bands, mostly because I have a terrible memory to begin with, and losing entire shows in alcoholes is kind of a bummer. But sometimes, on that first really warm night of early summer, say, when you are with good friends and your favourite bartender is working the bar and drinks taste as sweet as that warm early summer air feels, sometimes, sleazy readers, things can get out of hand. Case in point: last Friday at Call The Office in London, Ontario with Monster Truck and The Novaks.

If you haven't heard of Monster Truck yet, you probably will, especially if you're planning on checking out the latest Deep Purple tour or if you read Classic Rock magazine. Monster Truck comes howling its way from the steely depths of Hamilton, Ontario, Canada, all spit and fire and beer and whiskey and riffs and head-banging bass and really, really great beards. This band will melt your face, in a good way. Check this out, skeptics:


But this isn't about how great Monster Truck is. This is about how drunk I got, and how I promised to write a scrap-paper "interview" with opening band The Novaks, so here goes...

Hailing from St. John's, Newfoundland on Canada's eastern seaboard, The Novaks are a straight-up rock and roll band a la fellow east-coast-Canadian Matt Mays. They have a couple of CD/vinyl records and a digital-only release available on Sonic Records, and I would tell you all about how awesome they were live except that I honestly can't remember, although I'm pretty sure I was outside on the patio discussing IUDs with some friends at that point in the evening, and for the sake of my journalistic integrity, I feel like I have to come clean. I have since checked out their tunes and think you'd probably like them, although they aren't as face-melty as Monster Truck. Here's a sample: [And technology confounds me again. I tried to post a youtube video for "There Goes The Night," which is gloriously Tom Petty-esque, but the fucker wouldn't post, so I'm leaving it up to you and Google to find it. I hate technology.]


[I tried again. It worked this time.]

So anyway, here are my interview notes (I used both sides, natch):




I will attempt to decipher their drunken mysteries to the best of my abilities, although I take no responsibility for the accuracy of the following account.

Earlier in the night, while standing at the bar waiting for the world's best bartender to make me another rum and coke, this cute guy beside me orders what looks like two glasses of water, although I know one of them is a clear liquor (vodka, maybe, or gin) because I've just watched Matt pour it.

Holly [teasing but irrepressively charming]: Is that a glass of water with a water chaser?

Guy who ended up being the lead singer of The Novaks, Mick Davis [earnestly]: No, I'm the singer in the band and it gets dry up there.

H [smiling]: I know.

And that is where our interaction ended. Mick went onstage and sang some songs and I sat outside and talked about IUDs and then Monster Truck played and I stumbled inside and my face melted and then I stumbled back outside and this guy approached me and told me he liked my bra, which was leopard-printed and visible through my thin shirt because that's how I roll.

H [coyly]: What? You can see my bra?

Guy who ended up being Mark Neary, bass player and vocalist of The Novaks, hereafter known as Mark: Yeah.

And then we chatted for a few moments and somehow we got on the topic of Sleazegrinder, mostly because I like to think it gives my drunken ramblings some sort of credibility, and I got a scrap of register tape from the bartender and scribbled down phrases like, "Need to be Loved to be heard," which is either a song lyric or the answer to a question that I forgot to write down. Mark suggested I ask where their bandname came from, and I thought that was a pretty good question.

H: So where did you get your bandname from?

Mark: It's based on Kim Novak, you know, the actress from Vertigo?

H: Yep. Cool. [And then something that looks like "we wue already the name." Your guess is as good as mine.]

Mark: Why don't you ask what people most misunderstand about us?

H: That's a great question! What do people most misunderstand about you?

There does not appear to be an answer to this question, although I do have the name of their hotel written down, as well as Mark's email address, so I think it's safe to say he was hitting on me at this point, although, now that I type that, I seem to remember asking where they were staying. I do vaguely recall being asked, "So, where do we go to have fun?" which I eventually interpreted, perhaps erroneously, as "Do you know where we can get some cocaine and get laid?". I did not know. I was having a pretty good time where I was.

I know I talked to Mark some more, and that Mick came over and we chatted and I forgot to write things down, and various people entered and exited the conversation, although things are a little fuzzy. At one point, and this remains quite clear in my alcohol-muddled brain, another guy came up to talk to us. He introduced his name as something that sounded like "Brett," so I wrote down "Brett," and then I thought it was "Bread," so I scribbled out "Brett" and wrote down "Bread" (which tells you a little something about my state of mind at that point because who the hell names their kid Bread?), but then it turned out to be "Brad," so I wrote down "Brad." That guy was either Elliot Dicks, the band's drummer, or some bar patron named Brad.

The only other item of note is something that looks like "palmfuls of water," which I probably needed at that point.

And that, as they say, is that. While the details may be eternally lost, I do remember that the boys from The Novaks were sweet and charming and funny, and I had a great time. And a great time is what rock 'n' roll is all about, fellow sleazesters, is it not?

Check out Monster Truck and The Novaks on the website of your choice, or, preferably, in a bar near you. Buy them a beer and tell them Holly sent you. And, whatever you do, wherever you find yourself, please don't ever forget to riot on.



Saturday, June 09, 2012

Advanced Demonology Podcast Episode 7

This month: join Ken and Swilson as we host an Okkult Rock party at the rim of Hell!
Four hours of non-stop party jams!


Listen/Download HERE! 
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