No próximo domingo, dia 29 de novembro, a capital paulista recebe a visita de um ícone do hardcore melódico: Mr. Joey Cape. O vocalista que fez fama nos anos 90 à frente do Lagwagon – e ainda com as bandas Bad Astronaut e Me First And The Gimme Gimmes – se apresentará no Inferno (com abertura reggae/dub da Família Gangsters) a partir das 18 horas (no dia 28 é a capital paranaense que o recebe).

Além da banda The Playing Favorites, Joey Cape tem feito shows solo em formato acústico, inclusive seu primeiro álbum, Bridge, foi lançado no ano passado via Suburban Home Records nos EUA e Bad Taste Records na Europa. Antes de desembarcar no Brasil, Joey Cape conversou com a gente e contou um pouco sobre essa transição na carreira dele, falou um pouco sobre Bridge, sua filha Violet e o porquê dos Ramones estarem mortos…. Ou quase isso!

Entrevista: Joey Cape
Por Ricardo Tibiu
Tradução: Marina Melchers

No encarte de Bridge você diz que um disco acústico é um rito de passagem pra um compositor. O nome Bridge tem a ver com isso, de “te levar a outro lugar”? Após o disco acústico, qual seria o próximo rito?
Sim, exatamente! Eu não sei direito onde esse caminho leva, mas é legal tentar coisas novas!

Inclusive, o quê te levou a iniciar esse projeto solo e por que escolheu o formato acústico?
Bom, o formato acústico é muito confortável para mim, eu sempre escrevi música no violão. Eu não sei por que estou fazendo música sozinho, acho que é porque é mais fácil ser criativo quando você não precisa depender de tantas pessoas. E também é uma maneira fácil de manter a pureza das canções e a visão que você tem para qualquer uma delas.

Você acha que a crise na indústria fonográfica contribuiu para a qualidade baixa da música em geral onde tudo é muito mais visual que musical? Por acaso, The Ramones Are Dead aborda mais ou menos isso?
The Ramones Are Dead é sobre a falta de romance na música moderna. A procura era uma parte importante do processo antes da internet se tornar uma ferramenta para encontrar qualquer coisa que você queira. Eu não tenho certeza se a qualidade da música diminuiu, ela realmente parece mais saturada do que nunca. Geralmente quantidade significa menos qualidade!

Seria muito bobo de minha parte perguntar por que os Ramones foram os escolhidos pra ilustrar isso?
Eles eram uma obsessão na minha infância. Conseguir todos os LPs e a procura por um disco em vinil antes da disseminação dos telefones celulares e da internet eram um processo muito recompensador e legal às vezes. Eu vejo os Ramones, e muitas bandas punk antigas, como uma analogia para essa busca na minha vida.

Hoje em dia, qualquer um pode fazer download de um disco e deixá-lo perdido no computador ou deletá-lo, o que não acontece com o vinil. Tanto Bridge quanto I Remember When I Was Pretty, do The Playing Favorites, foram lançados em vinil – assim como o catálogo do Lagwagon. Você acha que essa é uma forma de levar sua música a quem realmente está interessado por ela?
Espero que sim! Sei que eu ainda prefiro vinil como formato porque amo a arte [do disco] e a cerimônia de tocar um disco.

Você grava suas músicas praticamente sozinho e produz, marca seus shows, através de seu blog no MySpace se comunica com produtores e pessoas interessadas em ajudar nas turnês e até “convoca” gente disposta a cuidar da banquinha nos shows. A vida na estrada é mais fácil sozinho que em banda?
Sim e não! É bom ter controle sobre cada decisão em relação à sua própria arte e eu adoro o contato direto com as pessoas que gostam da minha música, mas também é algo que consome muito tempo.

O encarte do CD traz uma foto com sua filha Violet, no fundo do estojo há um desenho feito por ela e em Canoe podemos ouvir a voz doce dela. Você costuma tocar suas músicas ao violão pra ela, mostrar bandas, enfim, de alguma forma envolvê-la com música?
Sim, mas ela está numa fase mais adequada à idade dela agora, é claro. Ela gosta de dance music de Bollywood, música eletrônica e dance music latina. Ela adora melodia, mas o violão é um pouco entediante para ela agora. Ela quer um tipo de ação que o papai não tem como fornecer [risos].

Boa parte das canções do EP I Think My Older Brother Used To Listen To Lagwagon, do Lagwagon, estão seu disco solo. Elas foram feitas para a banda ou já no formato acústico de Bridge?
Eu as gravei primeiro para o disco acústico. O EP foi lançado antes, mas foi gravado depois de meu disco.

Aliás, por falar no EP do Lagwagon, é inevitável perguntar: o quê seu irmão mais velho costumava ouvir?
Um pouco da mesma música que eu ouvia. Rock dos anos 70 e jazz fusion em geral. Meu irmão mais velho é um ótimo guitarrista. Ainda assim ele nunca gostou de punk rock. Mas ele ama Lagwagon. Provavelmente porque é melódico, mas também guiado por riffs de guitarra.

Em 2000, você esteve com o Lagwagon aqui no Brasil para uma turnê. O quê você lembra dessa turnê?
Não lembro de muita coisa… Isso foi há muito tempo!

No mesmo dia do seu show em São Paulo, os suecos do Entombed tocarão no Hangar 110, o mesmo lugar onde o Lagwagon tocou em 2000. Que tal?
Acho que isso não vai afetar muito meu show… Espero que não. Eu gosto do Wolverine Blues, é um bom disco!

Com a volta dos anos 80, algumas bandas ruins voltaram à ativa e — pior — as pessoas “se esqueceram” do quão ruim eram suas músicas… Você não tem medo que com a volta dos anos 90 o mesmo acontece com todas aquelas bandas medíocres de hardcore melódico que copiavam as mais bem sucedidas?
Sim, e isso é assustador. Eu não dou atenção a isso. Mesmo se é uma banda de que eu gostava, geralmente é uma grande decepção para mim!

Considerando que você geralmente toca algumas músicas do Lagwagon e do Bad Astronaut, o quê os fãs brasileiros podem esperar para este show? Alguma música que possa entrar em Doesn’t Play Well With Others?
Talvez eu toque uma música nova. Eu tento ficar nas coisas do Lagwagon em geral. Parece ser o que as pessoas querem ouvir, especialmente porque faz tanto tempo que estivemos no Brasil. Eu toco algumas do Bad Astronaut também. Às vezes as pessoas as conhecem!

Links relacionados:
www.myspace.com/highlightsounds
www.myspace.com/joeycape
www.myspace.com/theplayingfavorites
www.myspace.com/badastronaut
www.infernoclub.com.br
www.myspace.com/familiagangsters

Clique aqui e concorra a ingressos pro Joey Cape e pro death metal sueco Entombed, no Hangar 110 no mesmo dia!

Lagwagon ”Violins”

This post is coming a little later in the day than I would have liked, but hey, shit happens.

AFI – Crash Love
Andrew Jackson Jihad, Mischief Brew – Split
Buck O Nine – Barfly
Buck O Nine – Songs in the Key of Bree
Buck O Nine – True or False
Chixdiggit – Born on the First of July
Chixdiggit – From Scene to Shining Scene
Chixdiggit – Pink Razors
Citizen Fish – Life Size
Diesel Boy – Rode Hard and Put Away Wet
Diesel Boy – Sofa King Cool
Diesel Boy – Venus Envy
Division of Laura Lee – Black City
Dutchess and The Duke, The – Sunset Sunrise
Eels, The – Hombre Lobo
Faith No More – Angel Dust
Lagwagon – A Feedbag of Truckstop Poetry
Mighty Mighty Bosstones, The – Where’d You Go
No Use For A Name – Leche con Carne
No Use For A Name – Live in a Dive
No Use For A Name – Making Friends
Noise By Numbers – Yeah, Whatever…
Specials, The – The Specials
Strung Out – Another Day in Paradise
Ween – Gabrielle
Wolf Parade – Apologies to the Queen Mary

And to go with the announcement last month of their new record, a coming soon page for:

Eels, The – End Times

Weeeeeeeeeeee! Nothing gets me more pumped up than the opening of the local ski hill. Work just doesn’t seem to matter…life is on the upswing after a dreadful shoulder season in a mountain town…snow is falling.

For those of you out there who love ski season as much as me probably have similar routines that carry you through a typical day at the hill. What I have for you this week is a special little look into my ski day through the power of music.

The first is an uptempo playlist that will prep you all the way from coffee shop stop to the parking lot to the first few leg burners in the powder.  WARNING: It’s not for anyone with weak eardrums.

Click on the Picture to download FREE mp3!!!

The second one will bring you lower in the mountain and back into the public eye. After burning the calories in the morning those pants are a little more baggy, you have your poutine swagger on, and those jugs of beer at lunch time are kicking in. Go directly to the park and play around a bit with this playlist in your headphones. Enjoy and don’t be shy to leave me a comment with a few of your favorite ski hill tunes.

Click on the Picture to download FREE mp3!!!

So last month I participated in the AIGA Jacksonville’s Always Summer Poster Show. I meant to post my entry sooner but kept putting it off because I was either busy or I would forget. Pretty soon I felt like too much time had passed so I just decided not to post it. Then last night I went and watched Joey Cape of Lagwagon play at Jackrabbits and I immediately changed my mind. It was such an awesome show. He played a lot of Lagwagon stuff plus a couple of new songs off his new acoustic album.

See for the Always Summer Poster Show, artist were to pick their favorite summer song and create a poster for it.  I chose to do a poster for Violins by Lagwagon, specifically the acoustic version which is on the Joey Cape/ Tony Sly  acoustic split.  I had never heard the acoustic version until this past summer when my friend gave me a copy of the split and I came across the song. I listened to the song a countless number of times this summer on my drive from Seattle to Jacksonville. It is definitely one of my favorite Lagwagon songs and after hearing the acoustic version, I liked it even more. I’m pretty stoked that he actually played it last night.

Fat Wreck Chords estará editando un boxset de 3 cds, esto por motivo de celebrar sus 20 años de creación. La label empezo en 1990 pero edito su primer material dos años despues. El pimer disco incluria exitos del pasado, el segundo canciones raras o “lados B”, el tercero será el 7″ Club del 2001 en un solo cd.

El release incluira 88 canciones de Against Me!, American Steel, Anti-Flag, Avail, Bracket, Chixdiggit!, Consumed, Dead To Me, Descendents, The Dickies, Dillinger Four, Enemy You, Epoxies, Face to Face, The Flatliners, Frenzal Rhomb, Goober Patrol, Good Riddance, Hi-Standard, Lagwagon, The Lawrence Arms, Less Than Jake, The Loved Ones, MxPx, Mad Caddies, Me First and The Gimme Gimmes, NOFX, Nerf Herder, No Use For A Name, None More Black, One Man Army, Only Crime, Propagandhi, Randy, The Real McKenzies, Rise Against, The Sainte Catherines, Screeching Weasel, Sick Of It All, Smoke Or Fire, Snuff, The Soviettes, Star Fucking Hipsters, Strike Anywhere, Strung Out, Swingin’ Utters, Tilt, The Vandals, Western Addiction, Wizo y Zero Down.

I whooped out some old punk cd’s I listened to from back in the high school days and I fucking love that shit.

Check out some of these tracks, I have been in love with for years now!

Linoleum – NOFX

Do You Wanna Fight Me – Frenzal Rhomb

May 16th – Lagwagon

Oooh this is a hot one! First up in this weeks auditory mind assault is a full album download of down and dirty, psytrance from Xamanist…

Xamanist is 31 year old Sérgio Ribeiro from Portugal and he’s been messin’ about on guitar and bass and tweakin’ synths since diaper days. Then came what the man himself describes as a “life changing moment” - Boom Festival 2000 – and the next thing ya’ know Sergio is creating his own psytrance compositions. Together with Syul, the twosome formed Swan X-1, who performed live across Portugal until disbanding in 2007. Sérgio wasn’t quite done yet though, and hence, his solo project, Xamanist, was born. But, and I love this part, Xamanist still performs live on guitar and synths, at every show. This is not your average bot-a-track electronica. Rather, Xamanist is  like all good scotch, wine, coffee and smoothies an exercise in the perfection of the blend. Xaminist is old and new, darkness and light, melody and rhythm. This fusion philosophy is breathtakingly executed on Sérgio’s debut album, Initiation, mastered by Akhentek @ Ilum Studios. Sure, it’s laced with that good ‘ol Goa, but its also an amalgamation forged in the fires of a full-on, progressive style that provides an epic backdrop for creative storytelling. Personal favorite has gotta be the banging “White Magick”, but hey, I loved this whole album and it gets better with every listen. Oh and I almost forgot yo, that psychedelic cover art is from the delightfully curious mind of Adam Scott Miller – another interesting cat to say the least.

Download and enjoy all 9 tracks from Initiation by Xamanist here. FREE!

And now, in the immortal words of Monty Python, for something completely different.

modern day classic

You know Fat Wreck Chords and yes, by that I do mean precisely the independent punk label started by NOFX lead singer and bassist Fat Mike. The very same label we have to thank for the Punkvoter movement, which helped the U.S. rid itself of Bush Jr. by encouraging the youth to vote. The label that released material for Against Me, American Steel, Anti-Flag, Avail, Bad Astronaut, Banner Pilot, Chixdiggit!, Citizen Fish, Consumed, Dead To Me, Descendants, The Dickies, Dillinger Four, The Epoxies, The Flatliners, Frenzal Rhomb, Goober Patrol, Good Riddance, Hi-Standard, Lagwagon, The Lawrence Arms, Leftover Crack, Less Than Jake, The Loved Ones, Love Equals Death, The Mad Caddies, Me First and the Gimme Gimmes, NOFX, None More Black, No Use For A Name, Only Crime, Pour Habit, Propaghandi, Randy, The Real McKenzies, Rise Against, The Sainte Catherines, Screeching Weasel, Sick of it All, Smoke Or Fire, Snuff, The Soviettes, Star Fucking Hipsters, Strike Anywhere, Strung Out, Subhumans, Swingin’ Utters, Teenage Bottlerocket, Tilt, Western Addiction and Wizo.  Oh you did! Splendid! But yeah did ya know you can download a whole pile of tracks from all those acts for FREE right now? No you didn’t. HA! Now, now.. Hush. Its o.k. Thats why I’m here.

Click to get Fat Wreck-ed!

Have a wicked weekend y’all. Peace!

A hazánkban már több alkalommal is megfordult No Use for a Name megszerezte magának a nemrég szintén itt járt Lagwagon gitárosát, Chris Rest-et, aki a távozó Dave Nassie helyére lépett. Nassie a Bleeding Through miatt hagyta faképnél csapatát az idei európai turné közepén.

Long nights, hard times, and everything that makes you feel tired.

So my friends and I have pulled the 16v out of the Rabbit before it even ran.  Awesome huh?  In went a G60, which still needs to be wired up.  I decided to write about the Rabbit, considering I haven’t talked about it in awhile, but most importantly, today marks 3 years since my good friend Scott passed away.  He helped spark my interest back into VWs after being VW-less for roughly 2 years, leading to my purchase of my beloved MK2 GLi, snowballing into my whole oldschool deal.  Miss ya Scott

Cool right?  Not really, I would like to finish this or at least getting it SORT OF running before heading off to school.  Will it happen?  Probably not, knowing the way I work, but hey who knows.

I’ve also declared today “Listen to The Descendents Day.”  Grab Milo Goes To College or ‘Merican, whatever you would like, toss it in and enjoy.  I’ve been listening to a lot of SoCal punk bands lately while working on the car alone.  Bands like Lagwagon, The Descendents, Face to Face, and Pennywise.  I love hardcore, but the whole skate punk sound is where it started for me.

Gabriel xoxo

THE REVIVAL TOUR 2009 will include: CHUCK RAGAN (of Hot Water Music), Jim Ward (of Sparta and Sleepercar), Kevin Seconds (Nov. 3-5 only), Frank Turner, Tim Barry (of Avail), Dave Hause (of The Loved Ones), Jenny Owen Youngs, Possessed by Paul James, Jon Snodgrass and Chad Price (of Drag The River), Joey Cape (of Lagwagon), Bob Lucas, Austin Lucas, Audra Mae, Tom Cook, Steven Brodsky (of Cave In), Water Tower Bucket Boys, Anderson Family Bluegrass Band, members of The Zydepunks performing acoustic, Jon Gaunt (of Whiskey & Co) on fiddle, Digger Barnes on the upright bass and more.

10/13 Louisville, KY Skull Alley
10/14 Carrboro, NC Cat’s Cradle
10/15 Richmond, VA The Downstairs Lounge
10/16 Baltimore, MD Sonar – Baltimore – Club
10/17 New York, NY Blender Theatre
10/18 Asbury Park, NJ Asbury Lanes
10/19 Cambridge, MA The Middle East
10/20 Philadelphia, PA The Trocadero Theatre
10/23 Pontiac, MI Eagle Theatre
10/25 Chicago, IL Reggie’s Rock Club
10/26 Minneapolis, MN Triple Rock
10/28 Denver, CO The Marquis Theatre
10/29 Salt Lake City, UT In The Venue
10/31 Seattle, WA El Corazon
11/01 Portland, OR Berbati’s Pan
11/05 Sacramento, CA Blue Lamp
11/06 San Francisco, CA Slim’s
11/07 Los Angeles, CA El Rey Theatre
11/08 San Diego, CA Casbah
11/09 Las Vegas, NV Beauty Bar
11/10 Tempe, AZ The Sets
11/11 Albuquerque, NM Launchpad
11/12 El Paso, TX Take 2
11/13 Austin, TX Red 7
11/14 Dallas, TX The Door-The Prophet Bar
11/15 Little Rock, AR Juanita’s Cantina Ballroom
11/16 Memphis, TN Hi-Tone Cafe
11/17 New Orleans, LA One Eyed Jacks
11/18 Birmingham, AL Bottletree Cafe
11/19 Atlanta, GA The Masquerade- Hell Stage
11/20 Gainesville, FL Common Grounds
11/21 St. Petersburg, FL State Theatre
11/22 Orlando, FL The Social

Bom, primeira coisa: estamos em débito com alguns leitores ganhadores da nossa horripilante tradicional promoção ganhou? azar seu!.

Não se preocupem, os endereços estão anotados e as bombas os prêmios estão indo lentamente, só pedimos um pouco de paciência — e que nos desculpem, claro!

Só teremos outra promo — incluindo uma ganhou? azar nosso! com um prêmio realmente bom — após mandarmos todos os pacotes, ok?!

Mas tem gente que é louca e promete e dá prêmios de verdade! Caso do Tenho Mais Discos Que Amigos, sobre quem falamos um tempinho atrás!.

Além do site ser bem legal, Tony Aiex faz promoções dando vinis, por exemplo! Não é vinil do Ovelha que era do tio do vizinho do primo, é álbum edição limitada, colorido, bonitão, importado!

Na última promo que ele inventou está sendo sorteado um discão lindo amarelo Album Minus Band do coletivo/grupo Bomb The Music Industry!, que a gente não conhecia, mas ouviu no MySpace e achou bem anos 90 e interessante!

Ele tá dando ainda uma coletânea da Asian Man Records em CD com Alkaline Trio, Toasters, Chris Murray, Tuesday, Link 80, Skankin’ Pickle e outros.

Acha pouco? Tem ainda um CD sample da Suburban Home com Joey Cape, do Lagwagon, e muito mais!

pode tirar os olhos que essa pérola do Ovelha não será sorteada!

Você que tá aí babando se perguntando como faz pra ganhar esse monte de presentes importados, é simples: clique aqui e boa sorte!

WOULDN’T IT BE NICE :: BY KEVIN WILDER

JOSH

MY BARE FEET DIG INTO the almost-white sand, stinging no less than three blisters that I’ve earned at work over the last few days. Yet another reason why I haven’t made my way to the beach all summer long. We’ve trespassed here today, all three of us, to a semi-residential area two blocks past a brick schoolhouse, one past a like-new car lot, and directly across from a defunct fire station, with the inside weather report from the Waterboyz. They informed us that the CAUTION tape had been taken down, since no more red tide threats were on the horizon.

I lay between two girls on a quilt my grandmother made. And for a moment it seems all order has been restored in the panhandle of Florida. Almost.

Bryanna insisted we come. I didn’t know it was possible to continue being friends with someone after you’ve just stood them up, but she seems to be pretending that nothing ever happened.

On the left end of Me-Maw’s blanket is June Marley, straightening the slack over some barn-and-horse appliqué pattern. June said she wasn’t up for the beach, that she wasn’t exactly made for it, but then I did a little persuading. I invited Stephanie too, who declined. It’s probably for the best. I’m alreading feeling outnumbered. Guess she’ll have fun, fun, fun until her daddy takes her Wednesday afternoon privileges away, to pick up the slack on his choir’s unsatisfactory row of Altos.

I confess, I never made it to Hot Topic. When I left Nail Trix on a mission, and told June not to go anywhere, I really meant what I texted. But then, walking past the Discovery Channel Store, Stephanie ran toward me in a state of panic, offering up critical details about her and her best friend’s respective work days:

“Some spiky-haired manager-chick’s been giving June hell all day. But at least she managed to catch a shoplifter. Talk about dedication.”

I tried to hide the fact that I was on my way there, figuring I could learn more about the situation from the original source. I cut her off, saying I was on my way to get a Banana Chocolate Vanilla Werewolf Sunrise.

She sneered. “Meeting up with that no-good Bryanna I’ll bet.”

I pushed my sister aside. “Not now, Steph. Please.”

“If you’re going to check on our friend June, she already left. Her mom came by to pick her up.”

“Oh.” My legs went limp. Before my brain could process thisany  further, a pair of hands reached around and cover my eyes.

“Guess who?” the voice behind the hands said. The fingers smelled like—well, paint.

These weren’t June’s hands.

Gasping, I asked Bryanna, “Done already?” It was the only thing that came to mind.

My sister disappeared.

“Check it out. They did my fingernails for free. Today’s special.” She dangled her hands before me. “Next time don’t be so impatient, Joshy.”

I took a long look and said, “How fetching.”

Flash-forward to now, sitting in the warmth of the sun.

I wait for June to remove her jean shorts. It never happens. There’s a black tie around her neck, suggesting the top portion of a two-piece swimsuit. The tank top over it is printed with some flowers and waves, and more flowers and more waves. I wonder if she borrowed these surfer girl garments from someone else, or if they’re hers. She wears them well. So well.

Of course, Bryanna is also wearing some form of bikini. Not too different than what I’ve envisioned in my series of recurring dreams. But greener.

These girls are as different as the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, yet their friendship continues. Bry’s nailpolish is pink and perfect, and June’s is chipped and blue. They’re both chewing bubblegum, but then again, Bry hasn’t been making the same smack-smack noises as June.

June gets out a few necessities from her Emily the Strange bag, attaches her iPod Touch into a speaker cube, and presses PLAY:

Knock-knock-knockin’ on heaven’s do-oh-woor

She glances at us bashfully, and presses PAUSE. “Uh, sorry.”

Bryanna tells her, “Don’t be,” and presses PLAY again, turning the volume up louder. She stands up and shakes her hips. “I love this song.”

The song comes to an end and the player shuffles to something by Lagwagon. Bryanna frowns, and the dancing stops. I, however, have always believed there’s nothing a little crusty punk rock can’t cure. Apart from the tension a boy feels while baring his chest around two females for the first time.

Before I can pay June’s music a compliment, she breaks away to find the bathroom. I redirect my attention to some sea grapes, then a canoe capsizing in the distance. Once again I’m drawn back in by Bryanna’s fingers, playing with my hair. I’d be a liar if I didn’t claim this little affectionate act felt really, really good.

“So you having fun?” she asks.

I nod.

“Beats work, huh?”

“Yeah.”

She wiggles her hand off my scalp. Her face hardens. “I’m not stupid, Josh. I know what you’re thinking.”

I refrain from talking.

“You think you and I are better off as friends. And believe me, it’s OK.” She gets closer, leaning into my face.

Interesting, I think, no makeup today?

She makes a guttural noise, and says, “Here’s a little hint. If you ever wanted to make a move, now is the time.”

I try to unpack this advice. The message might as well have come to me in a bottle: cryptic, and in blurry, sunbleached handwriting. It’s impossible to unscramble—is she suggesting I make a move on her or June?

I see the shadow of the person behind us and say, “Here she comes.”

June squirts some lotion in her palms to rub on her arms. My heart is racing, like Paul Stanley’s before an encore. “Think I’m gonna go for a swim,” I say. “Anyone wanna come?”

June says, “Sure.”

Bryanna says, “No thanks. You guys go ahead.”

I jog toward the cool, cool water and paddle out. June takes off her outerclothes quick, staying hidden as long as possible, and gets in halfway. It seems as if she’s in a state of great discomfort, shivering with both hands over her head.

“Get in,” I say. “Water’s not bad.”

She dives (or is it falls?) into a mini-wave. It’s sort of clumsy/sexy. I laugh.

When she jets to the surface, I surprise her with a splash in the face.

“Let’s see how far we can go.”

When we’ve finally reached the sandbar, my gaze shifts to the shore. Clockwork never fails. A group of four teenagers are approaching. The one in the back looks like my long-lost buddy, but with no hair. Could it be? They are walking from the public area. God only knows what this could mean.

WILL

2:37 p.m. The four of us are here, stuffed in my little Honda, and can’t find a parking spot. When we finally do, it’s in the parking lot, and costs me eight dollars.

Donnie and Carlos hop out, and I follow. I’m kind of slow anyway, especially when I’m:

• tugging important commodities,
• and walking on sandy surfaces.

A sunburnt Jenn Z is with us too, holding up the taller end of the group. She smells of makeup mixed with perfume mixed with sunscreen and menthol cigarettes.

Some jetskiers shoot by, practicing Figure 8s. I reach in my backpack to find my zoom lens, and try to imagine them crashing into each other:

Their watercrafts explode. Smoke rises from gasoline and seawater. The vapors fade to reveal a ball of burning flesh, and I run to the water like Hasselhoff, diving in shirtless to help.

Within moments I finish off my roll of photos, and take a mental inventory of my shots, which until now have mostly been of:

• paddleboat riders,
• and people’s feet.

The brownness of Carlos’s skin is emphasized by the whiteness of his friends, and the even whiter-ness of the SPF 40 his mother dabbed on his nose. If Josh and I are weird, Carlos is weirder. A year ago he wore a Speedo. It was turquoise, with stripes. Good thing his current friends are thoughtful enough not to let him slip on through with these types of mistakes.

Donnie, on the other hand, is taking greater efforts at looking cool. After participating in some nutrition and weightlifting program called P90-X, he’s been lecturing repeatedly on the importance of:

• sweat
• and this thing called “Muscle Confusion.”

Since a girl is with us, he’s hoping to impress her with his ability to carry over a hundred pounds of beach gear.

He asks, “Did you see which one of those people took my frickin’ beach ball?”

“Who cares,” Carlos says, squinting his eyes at the Catholic family walking toward the sun and pier.

Donnie groans. “I’ll bet it was the scrawny one. His ass is grass.”

Jenn Z chimes in with, “You mean ‘sand.’ His ass is sand.”

Carlos scratches his butt. “Mine is too.”

I want to tell him that his joke, like the majority he keeps on reserve, doesn’t really make sense.

3:01 p.m. We can’t find a spot to park our overabundance of stuff, so somehow we keep up the pace while carrying the standard beach equipment:

• towels
• chairs,
• a volleyball,
• shovels for digging trenches or burying bodies (still breathing, of course, and assuming we’ll get bored eventually),
• plenty of picnic gear, including but not limited to:
  • sandwiches,
  • a sixer of high-octane Ginger Ale,
  • Capri Suns for the faint of heart,
  • and assorted Little Debbie snacks, now melted.

I’ve always thought that friends are the primary factor making the Beach Experience the most fun. I only wish I still had the option to invite Josh. My coastal buddies plus girl certainly aren’t as entertaining as he was, at least before the possibility of getting girls entered the picture. At this present moment in time, my coastal buddies are all I have.

For a while I wanted to destroy my mall-working compadre. Once or twice I envisioned a final showdown, in cold blood:

I navigate my father’s boat to the Bermuda Triangle, and throw Josh in the ocean without a life preserver while I search the cabin for more artillery. He gasps and kicks, fending for himself while sharks and stingrays swim in circles, ready to maul him.

There were several other cinematic scenarios I imagined too, like scenes from The Hunt for Red October—another movie Dad talks about that I should probably watch.

But then the fight in the parking lot occurred. Awful words were spoken, and innocent blood was shed. I could only feel sorry for Josh after that.

Jenn pops in another cigarette.

Carlos says the cliché that eclipses all clichés: “Cigarettes are bad for you.”

She snarls at his poster-message, combating it with “Oh are they? Well so’s skin cancer,” pointing to his blistered back.

Donnie flexes his triceps and says, “I wonder where all the hot babes are hiding.” He’s redirecting the attention back to himself, and reinforcing his lack of interest in Jenn Z. This lack of interest is fake, of course.

“What’s your mom doing?” I ask Carlos. “Can’t we invite my favorite Hispanic Math tutor to come along?”

He says, “I hate you,” and smacks the back of my head.

At roughly 3:15 p.m. we spot none other than Josh and June, swimming like a couple of adorable fish. Or “guppies.” Summerson’s on the beach, stretched across some bedding with her eyes closed. She’s tanning every inch of her flawless body, except for the parts her steamy suit and enormous sunglasses cover. Carlos tiptoes in the water, thinking he can creep up and cannonball into the swimmers. It’s obvious they know he’s there. He doesn’t make much headway, as he catches a wave that knocks him back in.

I take off my flip flops and step in the water. Should I swim out? There are only two options:

• yes
• and no.

I pick the first. When I get to Josh and June, they look terrified. “Relax,” I say. “I haven’t brought any weapons.”

After a minute, Josh speaks: “Wh-whatcha been up to?”

“Just knockin’ over sand castles and stuff.”

“How considerate,” June says. But she grins. And laughs.

Josh asks her if she’d mind checking on Bry. I explain to her that we have unfinished business.

She swims to shore, then runs to safety, the whole time avoiding Donnie and Carlos, who have begun throwing sandballs at Jenn Z. I curse my nearsightedness, and within moments she’s already wrapped a towel around herself.

“Dammit,” I say.

Part of me wants to be mean to Josh, and rough him up a little. But there’s really no use in playing this game of heroes and villains. He doesn’t want to see additional bloodshed any more than I do.

“So what else is new?” he asks.

“Not much. Surf’s up lately. And I started wearing tightie-whities under my boardshorts. You know, for extra support.”

Josh laughs. I try to toss my hair back, and then remember I don’t have any.

“The shorn look is nice,” he says.

“Thanks. It was sort of an accident. Carlos tried to give me this nineties fade, and the No. 3 guard slipped off his electric razor.” I gargle some seawater and spit it back out. “Hey man. Sorry ‘bout everything.”

He smiles. “Thanks for saying sorry.”

I point to his lip. “How’s. That?”

“Getting better. The sodium chloride helps. How’s…your eye?”

I rub the fading sore and tell him it feels fine. I’ve always loved shiners.

“Hey, Josh. There’s something else I wanna apologize for.”

The words are difficult to spit out, so I have to say them fast: “Sorry I told your sister you were gonna grow up and be some lame-ass youth minister.”

“Huh? She never told me you said that.”

“She didn’t?”

shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit

“Well you were probably just mad when you said it…right?”

double shit double shit double shit double sh-i-i-i-i-i-i-t

“Totally. It was a stupid thing to say. Didn’t mean it at all. Plus, I actually think most chicks kinda dig youth pastors.”

He laughs, and I’m relieved. “I’m not sure that’s entirely true, but thanks, I guess.”

It’s difficult to tread water and shake hands simultaneously, but we try it anyway.

“I’m also sorry,” Josh says. “For everything.”

He tries to hug me, until I twist his arm and call him a candy-ass.

He says, “Not so fast, Bronanza.”

We dive under the water, and when we return to the surface Josh is holding a giant shell. He shouts, “How ‘bout this thing?”

3:50 p.m. It appears my coastal friends have left. Who needs them? Josh and I have always agreed that the Dynamic Duo is most dynamic without any outside influence.

That said, we return to Summerson and Marley on a blanket big enough for an army. “Who did this handiwork?” I ask. “Somebody at the VFW Hall?”

“Hey now,” Bryanna says, patting Josh’s back.

I make my way to June, and cuddle up to her shoulder, trying to ride out the good vibrations she seemed to be showing me earlier. I whisper, “Hey. Wanna walk down to the good skimboarding part?”

She doesn’t say yes, and looks at Josh as if asking for permission. He’s busy with Bryanna, who’s calling him “darlin’,” while asking if he’ll cover her back with some pigment-modifying liquid gel.

“I can show you how the pros do it. I mean, if you’re up for it.”

She pauses. “I wasn’t…planning on getting wet again, but—” Eventually, she shakes the sand off her shoes and follows me. Who can decline a good skimboarding lesson?

I holler out at Josh and Summerson that we’ll be over by the palm frond huts.

4:05 p.m. Since I’m getting good at rectifying situations by way of apology, I decide to try it now with June.

“Sorry ‘bout everything in the watermelon patch that day. I’m not big on social graces.” I add, “Garth Brooks said that. He’s from Georgia, I think.”

My fully-clothed friend nods. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone runs out of gas at some point.”

Before long, June steps on a pointy shell. She stops and takes a seat. I find a sea-stick and start drawing pictures in the sand. As Josh would point out, Jesus did this once while defending some Bible-times hooker.

“What time is it?” she asks. “Wanna head back?”

I look down at my wrist. “It’s only 4:09. We got plenty of time to learn a few novice skimboarding techniques.”

She looks at my hand, and asks, “Hey. New watch?”

“Yup. It has a waterproof interface developed by scientists for wakeboarders. It’s sturdier and more sophisticated—”

“And also more blue,” she interrupts.

“I know! And super lightweight. I almost bought one with a calculator, but I’m gettin’ pretty good at Math without it.”

She touches it and smiles, and says, “Cool.”

I never showed Josh my new watch, but I’m sure he’ll like it too. I’d put money on it.

JOSH

Will and June get up, ready to totter down the beach together. Will, with a girl I missed my chances with. And June, the girl I missed my chances with. I wonder, Am I okay with this? I must be.

“Sail on, sailors,” Bryanna tells them.

I try to smile. “Hey. You’ve been listening to the tape I made you.”

“Sure have. The Beach Boys, 1972, the only song on Holland that wasn’t recorded in Holland, based on ‘Josh’s Notes’.”

“So you like it?”

“I’m trying. Some of the songs are wonderful, except for maybe that noisy one by The Sonic Youths.”

“Their name’s actually—” I cough. “Oh, nevermind.”

Bry lets go of my arm. She’s waiting to see if my attention will turn to June and Will, who are already a quarter mile down the beach. I’ve decided I won’t look away. My friend can have his fun.

There’s plenty else to enjoy on the beach today, like the sun over our heads, and Mrs. Summerson’s lemonade in our glasses. I quit with the talking. There’s not much I can add to the moment.

“So I got my tape” Bryanna says, tying her hair back. “But I still never got my kiss.”

We might technically be ‘broken up,’ but only an idiot would contradict her far-more-experienced lines of reasoning.

We lay down, and lean in. Her lips look soft and inviting.

How do I…?

Before our mouths can touch, a flock of seagulls dive toward our spot. They begin fighting for our tortilla chips, and ultimately, our sandwiches. I stand up, and attempt to shoo them off while hiding my half-mast.

“Hey!” I yell at the biggest, who’s running off with a beak full of bologna. When the last seagull standing finally flies away, I return to the quilt.

Bryanna says, “Where were we?”

The seagull comes back with a vengeance, poops in Bryanna’s hair, and she dashes for the water shrieking.

I don’t keep up to date on the punk scene like I used to. That’s not to say that there isn’t anything good going on there but we don’t have the quality of punk bands as we did in the early 90’s. Back then we were able to rock out to Pennywise, Lagwagon, Rancid and a core of other bands that were anti-establishment and meant it. Luckily Fat Wreck Chords has kept most of the same bands from back in the day and they are still pumping out solid hard hitting albums while Epitaph has all but brought on fresh faces, keeping only Bad Religion, Millencolin and Rancid from the glory days.

I mention this because one of the grandfathers of skate punk, NOFX, are working on over 25 years of touring and recording and are set to release their 12th studio album next Tuesday titled “Coaster” which they claim is all CD’s are good for anymore. MySpace has an exclusive session with a couple of videos of songs and interviews with the band as well as the crew that has been touring with them for a majority of that time. There is also a 5 songs EP that you can download of the songs from the videos.

It is kind of strange to see Fat Mike and El Hefe looking so old while Eric and Melvin look exactly like they did 20 years ago though.

Most often people see “the acoustic album” as a last change or a final quite chapter to a musician’s career. Cape, who has been a part of this punk scene 1989, has no such plans, but I’m sure glad he was willing to show us his softer more melodic side in Bridge.

I must first express how fascinated I am with the overall vocal quality of this record. I knew the Lagwagon founder could belt out some notes, but to carry a tune like this? Color me surprised. I do believe I would pay top dollar to see this performance.

If you’re a wary die hard Lagwagon fan, rest assured, several of these tunes are Lagwagon jams put to acoustic greatness. The roster includes old favorites like “Canoe” and “B Side”. If you’re going to have someone put these songs to an acoustic setting, it might as well be the guy that wrote them. We are even led down much earlier path with the nostalgic “The Ramones Are Dead”, a song that may very well have given birth to the “skater punk” era. It’s pretty nice to buy a new album and be able to sing right along the first time through. This also reminds you of how old you’re getting.

Aside from former bands Lagwagon and Bad Astronaut (independent music project), Cape has much more to offer here. I mean this release really does stand on its own two feet. This is not just guy from Lagwagon, this is Joey motha-fuck’n Cape! This album alone  has set a precedence for what may be several solo-acoustic albums to come. I almost feel like I’m putting in a Neil Young album for a relaxing evening. I would even be interested to see what future collaborations in the way of side projects are to come. Austin Lucas, or possibly Chuck Ragan? The sky is the limit. You guys keep making good albums and we’ll keep buying/reviewing them.

This is a diamond in the Suburban Home rough, and I f you can’t see that then I say to you good day sir. I said good day!

Por problemas técnicos, la fecha que había fijado para empezar a tener el blog en el nuevo sitio (punkrocksong.com.ar) va a tener que ser pospuesta para unos días más adelante. La verdad que no me hace ninguna gracia haber prometido algo y no poder cumplirlo. Pero a veces las cosas son así, más cuando la totalidad de un proyecto no depende sólo del trabajo de uno, sino cuando se depende de otra gente que también está trabajando. Se que hay ansiedad, ganas de seguir leyendo el blog, de seguir participando, y de seguir colaborando para hacer de Punk Rock Song un blog de culto en este inmenso mundo de la internet.

Les pido disculpas, y espero que, como máximo en 5 días, nos podamos encontrar en nuestra nueva casa.

De todas formas, para que la espera no les sea tan larga, les dejo dos cancioncitas para que escuchen. La primera me la recomendó Chino, en el post de May 16 de Lagwagon. La segunda es otra versión acústica, pero del tema God Song de Bad Religion.

May 16 Acústica – Lagwagon

God Song Acústica – Bad Religion

Joey Cape of Lagwagon

Yes I took these with my phone

set list

Awesome show. Tristan took one of Joey and I, but I don’t have it yet.

Here’s the playlist from my Nov. 14, 2008 show on WMUC2. I figure I’ll just try to get these “old playlist” posts out of the way as soon as I can just to get everyone up to speed and stuff. And I swear I’ll get around to that upgrade eventually so — hopefully — I’ll be able to post downloadable show files. So far, I’ve only been able to get my four one-hour shows and the show I just did on Friday. When I do get that upgrade, there will be another page button at the top of the home page that’ll say something like “Downloads” or something like that. Anyway, here’s the playlist.

1. Sigur Ros, “Gobbledigook” (Med sud I eyrum vid spilum endalaust — in English: With a buzz in our ears we play endlessly)

2. Nine Black Alps, “Cosmopolitan” (Everything Is)

3. Pearl Jam, “Comatose” (Pearl Jam)

4. Spoon, “You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb” (Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga)

5. The Walkmen, “The Rat” (Bows + Arrows)

6. The Fall Of Troy, “Sledgehammer” (Manipulator)

7. The Dillinger Escape Plan, “Milk Lizard” (Ire Works)

8. Double Dagger, “Luxury Condos For The Poor” (Ragged Rubble)

9. Bloc Party, “Halo” (Intimacy)

10. Drive-By Truckers, “The Righteous Path” (Brighter Than Creation’s Dark)

11. Foo Fighters, “Disenchanted Lullaby” (One By One)

12. We Are Scientists, “Let’s See It” (Brain Thrust Mastery)

13. Rancid, “Ivory Coast” (Indestructible)

14. Lagwagon, “May 16″ (Let’s Talk About Feelings)

15. Man Or Astroman?, “9 Volt” (Experiment Zero)

16. Eagles Of Death Metal, “I Gotta Feelin (Just Nineteen)” (Death By Sexy)

17. Queens Of The Stone Age, “I’m Designer” (Era Vulgaris)

18. The Whigs, “Right Hand On My Heart” (Mission Control)

19. Nirvana, “Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge On Seattle” (In Utero)

20. Green Day, “J.A.R. (Jason Andrew Relva)” (International Superhits!)

21. The National, “Apartment Story” (Boxer)

22. My Morning Jacket, “Lay Low” (Z)

23. Weezer, “Why Bother?” (Pinkerton)

24. Kings Of Leon, “Charmer” (Because Of The Times)

25. Snow Patrol, “Spitting Games” (Final Straw)

26. Matthew Sweet, “Sick Of Myself” (100% Fun!)

27. Minus The Bear, “Ice Monster” (Planet Of Ice)

28. Radiohead, “Nude” (In Rainbows)

29. Vampire Weekend, “Oxford Comma” (Vampire Weekend)

You probably won’t hear any of the last song because I had to go a little longer than usual.

Another band I never get sick of.

May 16 es el tema número 11 del disco Let´s Talk About Feelings de Lagwagon editado por Fat Wrech Chords en el año 1997.

Links para consultar

• web oficial de Lagwagon
• myspace de Lagwagon
• Lagwagon en wikipedia
• Escuchá la canción
• Bajate la canción

Letra del tema

No more waiting on them
as you rise inside new rooms
It’s official you’ve gone
You can live for no one else
Man the guilt must be huge
As there’s no gain in failure
You succeed at being mine

Yeah, old friend, see you there
I will be proud from afar
I can paint a picture
In a moment of memories
And there aren’t many left
I am extradited, uninvited

It’s just another Saturday

Take a step to freedom
You and her loathing this cruel world
Take a breath of shelter
And exhale trust and allegiance
Liberate yourself from hell

It’s just another Saturday

Comentario final de J.G.

Una intro a puro punk melódico. Creo que si alguien me dijera que tengo un minuto para mostrarle como suena el punk melódico, terminaría poniéndole el primer minuto de May 16 de Lagwagon. Empieza sólo con guitarras, entran después el bajo y la batería con las violas que continúan bien melódicas de fondo por unos 30 segundos, y después sí que me agarro fuerte de la silla porque arranca a toda velocidad, pero siempre manteniendo esa precisión y justeza que caracteriza al estilo.

Lo que siempre me gustó de Lagwagon es lo bien que logran integrar una banda tocando al palo con una voz más bien tranquila por encima de los instrumentos (hagan la prueba de poner la canción e intentar escuchar aisladamente sólo la voz, creo que si estuviese grabada solamente con una guitarra acústica no habría que hacerle el más mínimo cambio).

Tengo muchas anécdotas que me recuerdan a Lagwagon, pero la mayoría me retrotrae a aquella noche mágica del único show que dieron en Buenos Aires allá por mediados del año 2000 (si la memoria no me falla) en el mítico Cemento. Me acuerdo de un conocido que había comprado la entrada número 1, y se había hecho una remera con la imagen de su entrada y que la lucía muy feliz por entre la muchedumbre. Me acuerdo que con mis amigos en la previa intentamos a más no poder que la gente se copase cantando Bombs Away pero nadie terminó cantando con nosotros. Me acuerdo de nuestra emoción cuando pudimos saludar a un de los integrantes de la banda cuando llegaba al lugar, y me acuerdo de muchas cosas más que en otro momento seguiré contando.

Y a medida que avanzo con el blog, cada vez me doy más cuenta que es verdad que estamos hechos de canciones. Que si nos ponemos a pensar, siempre hay algo para decir de aquellas melodías que alguna vez pasaron por nuestros oídos.