Noise Pop is a bunch of bullshit. The company behind this stupid festival, Noise Pop Industries, makes a big event of having a few good shows, which should be happening all the time anyway. No, wait, what am I saying? It already does. A lot of these bands play the San Francisco Bay Area already, and pretty frequently — the show I went to featured two S.F. bands on the bill, one of which, the Oh Sees, was the headliner.

The show was my first Noise Pop show. I had two spots on the guest list because I wrote a preview for what-shall-be-an unnamed publication. I was forwarded an email from the publicist, or more specifically from a co-worker of the publicist (important later on) saying I had a +1 on the list for the show.

Around the same time, Dean, drummer for the Unnatural Helpers, gave me permission to record his band at the show. I’ve acquired more recording equipment over the years and this was a great opportunity to try it out so I planned on bringing my equivalent of a mobile studio to the show. (Thank god I had a +1, though I don’t think Rob, my guest, appreciated having to carry two 10-pound microphone stands around Market St.)

This led to me making my first mistake — actually looking forward to going to Noise Pop.

From what I understand from other music writers is that when it comes to guest list spots for Noise Pop shows, nothing is guaranteed. (It sounds like an administration problem at Noise Pop Industries* and I wouldn’t expect them to fix it any time soon.)

So, it’s the night of the show, and Rob and I are hauling armloads of my equipment through the Castro after taking 10-15 minutes looking for a parking space. We arrive at the front door of Cafe du Nord just as the doormen started taking tickets. I walked up to the doorman with the guest list and told him that I was here to record the band the Unnatural Helpers, hence why I had tons of equipment, and would it be alright if I walked in now so I could start setting up.

“You’re not on the guest list,” the bouncer with a fisherman’s hat informed me.

Soon after that wonderful announcement, some short indie kid in with cropped blonde hair and a t-shirt walks up to me and says, “You’re hear to record the show? Oh, there already is someone recording the show, so you can’t do it. Sorry. You can still come in and watch the show, if you’re on the guest list.” This jerk then ducked under the velvet rope and went inside, never to be seen again (which was lucky for him.)

I called up my middleman for this ordeal and he yells at me for not printing out the email. So I head over to the internet cafe next door and print out my email, the one item of physical evidence I have that shows I’m supposed to be on the list. With my equipment still shoved under my arms, I walk over to the doorman again, who at this point stood by a skinny blonde that dressed like a demented peasant with a cell phone in one hand and a cigarette in the other. I handed the man my email and he passed it over to the peasant.

“She’s the one you have to talk to,” said the doorman as he handed her the paper.

She scanned the email a little bit and then asked, “So what is this?”

“This is the email that shows that I’m supposed to be on the guest list.”

She scanned over the email again, this time pointing at it. “So Grace gave you permission? I don’t know Grace. She doesn’t have anything to do with the show.”

“So you don’t even know the company she works for?”

“Well yeah, Tell All Your Friends is who we hired to do our publicity. And I see on here Kip’s name, the person who we hired, but still, just look at this. Anybody could have written it. It’s just not good enough for me.”

“But Kip’s name is on there,; doesn’t that mean anything?”

“No. But if you want to, you can get a hold of Kip and he knows how to get a hold of me,” and then she handed back the paper, turned around, put out her cigarette and walked up the stairs of the Swedish American Hall.

(Before I continue on, I have to ask: does anyone ever actually sit down in front of a computer and a fake forwarded email, full of sideways carrots and email addresses, just to get into a show for free? Also, the show was sold out — tickets were $12. The show already made thousands of dollars — are two people getting in for free going to make a dent in their profits? Not to mention the fact by keeping us out, she’s preventing potential profits from reaching the bands (merchandise) and the club (alcohol.) Smart lady.)

Rob and I continued to stand outside the club with the equipment as we waited to see if someone contacted the publicist. Thanks to Kimberly of the Unnatural Helpers, we had Annie, the talent buyer for show, trying to get a hold of Kip too, which boded well for us. So as we waited to hear our fate, we caught up with old friends from Seattle.

We were not only at the show to see bands — we were also there to buy their records. Tyvek sold all of their copies of their Sub Pop Singles Club 7″, but the Unnatural Helpers still had plenty of theirs. Mitch Cardwell was awesome for he went inside and bought the 7″s for us.

Lo and behold, on the cover the record was a picture I took of the band playing in Seattle (you can see the picture [url=http://www.lemon-session.com/more.php?id=36_0_1_0_M]here.[/url] My picture is on a Sub Pop record, the label that revolutionized popular music for a decade. Awesome.

Then I turned around the record to find the photo credited to someone else.

After we heard the first band, the Fresh and Only’s, finish their set, I saw super bitch standing outside again, smoking and talking on her cell phone. I walked over to her and waited for her to finish her call.

“Should we give up all hope?” I asked in a gentle tone.

“What?”

“I’m just wondering if we should give up all hope. I don’t want to be standing her all night.”

“Well, I haven’t heard anything back from Kip. And what are you from again?”

I told her the name and about how we wrote a huge write-up for the entire festival. I added the fact that my co-worker does a ton of work for Kip and that she could talk to my “Kip connection” if she wanted to.

“I don’t NEED to talk to your “connection, I need to talk to Kip,” she said before turning around and walking off again.

Maybe a minute or two afterward, Annie came up to inform me and the doormen that I am on the list. When I ask about Rob, she informs me that they could only squeeze me in.

I was about to just say, “fuck it” and drive Rob home when Kimberly came up the stairs with a guy who had an unused +1. Huzzah!

We got our stamps and wristbands, walked downstairs and saw that the club was far from being full. Big surprise — it was all bullshit!

Unnatural Helpers
The Helpers have two new members since last time I saw them — Brian Standeford and Leo Gebhart from the Catheters and Tall Birds. These guys are serious shredders and have brought more of a garage meets stoner rock sound to the band. They also play more covers now, including She Must Be A Witch by Lollipop Shoppe (and the Lost Sounds.)

Along with my camera, I brought in a hand held recorder, a device I grabbed just in case they didn’t let me record. It records stereo 24-bit WAV files and the mic uses a U87 emulator. Sadly, I stood to close to the stage when the Helpers played, so my mic barely picked up the vocals.

Tyvek
I had heard that Tyvek hired a new bassist and she doesn’t look older than 15. But I don’t think there’s any gross reason for why she’s in the band.

This time I was lucky and stood at the perfect spot to pick up the vocals. I thought they played and sounded 20x better than the last time I saw them. I also enjoy the fact that they are willing to experiment on stage now, letting three minute pop songs turn into 10 minute jams. Good stuff.

*Industries? Really? What the fuck. You want to be corporate? So then this is much more about the money than the music. Wow, I really want to support that.

I can honestly say that the last two years of my life were the hardest I have ever experienced. I finished my master’s degree, got married, lived through a fatal car accident where my passenger died, spent months in court fighting a nine-month jail sentence… Usually I would end such a long, intense run down with a “Good times!” but I really can’t joke about experiences like that.

Now my life has calmed down and I can finally concentrate on doing what makes me happy — obsessing over music. So, for my first blog post since my hiatus, I am going to share some unreleased live tracks of my old band the Popular Shapes.

The shapes started in 2000, when the guitarist/singer Phi (real name Nick,) bassist/singer Lee and I started hanging out at shows. I used to love Phi and Lee’s old band The River Rats; they gave Screeching Weasel and the Angry Samoans a run for their money. But back then, whenever we talked about music, it was typically about our mutual love for the Pixies, Devo and the Hot Snakes. It just made sense to start a band with those influences in mind.

Originally I played second guitar and my friend Tim played drums, but Lee and Phi thought Tim was “too good” and once it was suggested that I play drums, I no longer had a choice in the matter. I didn’t own a drum set, having sold my old one for a bass, but I was so excited about the band that I did some shady freelance writing just to buy new drums.

After we started writing songs, we brought in Trent, former bass player for the Ninja Boners, to play lead guitar. He was playing in bands like Weird Science, who we really didn’t want to sound like. But then again I don’t think Trent wanted to spend much time in that band either. At the first practice, it clicked — if we had recorded that practice, we it would be worth releasing.

The next thing I knew all I wanted to do with my time was play our songs. (Of course I was getting my bachelor’s at the time and the band probably didn’t help my grades much.)

1. Here Come the Pancakes/Speedboats: These were written by Phi and were two of our first songs. “Pancakes” became our set opener for the majority of shows. It was kind of a hit it amongst our fans but for some reason we could never record it in the studio with that same energy. Our demo version of it, which is OKAY, ended up on the “Dirtnap Across The Northwest” compilation. We later tried to record it for the album, but failed miserably. This version of “Speedboats” was recorded before Phi wrote a dissonant lead for the chorus. To be honest, the album version sounded better without that lead, but Phi and Lee really liked it. Que Sera Sera.

This recording was done by Jim the Bootlegger at the Breakroom (now Chop Suey) with a mini disc recorder and a SM 57. We opened for the Catheters that night and I heard that the band was nervous about playing after us when they saw our set. In the end, they still kicked our asses, but then again, they were pro.

2. A Symmetrical Girl: Trent penned this over-the-top pop song, which is pretty typical of what he wrote back then. It also gives a glimpse into what he would be doing later under the name TV Coahran — heavily Sparks-influenced pop with toy pianos, acoustic guitars and seriously goofy lyrics (Township of Cecil? What the fuck.) He would write other songs like this, including “Sack of Noise” which we played out a few times, but after awhile we started getting really sick of this kind of poppy-ness and pretty much rejected many of the songs Trent brought in. It wasn’t until he started writing more abrasive riffs like “Fluorescent Bikes Depressing” that convinced us to give him another chance.

This was recorded at the Crocodile (RIP) at the “Video Madness” showcase. During the Seattle International Film Festival, the promoter at the Croc decided to put on a showcase where local bands would cover songs that had videos directed by famous directors in town, namely Spike Jonze, Chris Cunningham and Michel Gondry. We wanted Aphex Twin’s “Come to Daddy,” but somebody already nabbed it, so we took the next best thing — Chemical Brothers “Let Forever Be.” The showcases were a flop; maybe ten people showed up to each one. I think the directors had come out to the press saying they were boycotting the shows.

3. Xmas Yeah! This is the second song I wrote for the band, but one of the first songs that we were stoked to play. It was one of those moments in the set that I looked for to and only once I did get sick of playing it. We played it every show.

Andrew Pardo, the sound guy for Graceland (now El Corazon), recorded this from the board and even took it home to mix to mini disc. He did a nice job, but too bad we weren’t in top form that night. That was in 2003, when everybody in the band really hated me and I was getting ready to move to California. We were at the height of our popularity but since there was this tension in the band, we really didn’t make it any farther (that is until after I left and the album came out.)

4. Ads On Police Cars: We had the jam in the middle of this song first and I basically wrote this as a vehicle for that jam. I used to love playing that part and I think everyone else did too. In videos of us playing, we typically try to play it cool except for me, since I’m playing as fast and loud as I possibly can, sweating buckets the entire time. But when it came to that part, we all lost our shit. I would lose myself in that riff. The only problem was that Phi could NEVER remember his part. He had three or four different riffs that he would play because he could never remember what he played the first time we wrote it. Kind of ironic since right after we wrote it, Phi stopped everyone playing and said “Everyone remember EXACTLY what they were playing.”

This was recorded again at the Crocodile through the board. That night we opened for Guitar Wolf, which would’ve been a dream come true if I was a bigger Wolf fan. They even helped us unload our van. What really surprised me was the low turnout. I had seen them a few years earlier and they packed the venue with fans howling during the entire two-hour set. At this show, the Croc was maybe half full.

Before we played, Zack Static, who was apparently chaperoning the band, took me aside and told me that we couldn’t hang out in the backstage after our set. He wanted us to just grab our shit and get out of there, which is kind of inconvenient because it meant we had no time to rest after our set. His reason? “The Wolf” needed time to prepare for the show. According to Zack, before every show “The Wolf” sits alone in a room and puts himself in some trance state or something. How much preparation do you need to scream “Lock and Loll!” a bunch of times and kiss your Joan Jett pin?*

So, that’s just a few tracks from the hours of live recordings I got piled away in my closet. If your interested in that stuff, maybe you want to hear what I’m doing now with my band the Owners. Well, it’s your lucky day!

Excellent Virus

I recorded this all by myself, playing all the instruments and programming the drums.

*No offense to Zack or Guitar Wolf. Zack is an amazing guy and I still love those Guitar Wolf records. Also, the Wolf’s behavior isn’t as bad as it could be: when we played with Electric Eel Eye, I caught the drummer in the backstage with his pants around his ankles talking to his dick. Now that’s a pre-show ritual!