the future superstars of St. Roch Round 2 Bonnaroo Faith No More

Transcription

#1
31
V
OL
. 13
20
N O . 7 J U LY
15
the future superstars of
GIRLS ROCK!
also in this issue:
St. Roch Round 2
Bonnaroo
Faith No More
FOUNDER
Leo J. McGovern III
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Dan Fox
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“WE LIKE FREAKY
THINGS, BUT MOST
OF THE TIME WE LIKE
HAVING DISTANCE
FROM THE FREAKS WHO
MAKE THEM”
PG. 12
Last month we ran a piece by activist-artist Mwende Katwiwa
(“Confronting Histories Old and New with #BlackSpring”) which
spoke at length about the monuments, street names, and other honors
bestowed upon the architects of the defeated Southern Confederacy, and
what it feels like to be a Black citizen in this country living with those
reminders daily.
The argument is hardly new, but unfortunately, Mwende’s piece
became ultra-relevant after the slaying of nine churchgoers by a young,
radicalized white supremacist in Charleston, South Carolina. That event
put into stark relief the debate over whether Confederate symbols—
especially those that are government sanctioned—are still appropriate
today. Here in New Orleans, many monuments have come under
increased scrutiny, namely Lee Circle, South Jeff. Davis Parkway, and
the P.G.T. Beauregard statue at City Park. I’m happy to see the Landrieu
administration jump ahead of this issue and begin to explore ways to
reappoint these landmarks.
It’s clearly time for that Robert E. Lee statue to go. Some people have
cried foul, suggesting that removing his likeness is akin to toppling
Stonehenge or an attempt to erase chunks of history, ugly though they
may be. But I think that’s a pretty weak argument. Before it was Lee
Circle it was Tivoli Circle, and hopefully soon it will be something else.
Cities change and evolve, and if anything, replacing these monuments
with figures that better represent its citizens will, I think, induce a new
wave of civic pride and commitment to New Orleans. At its most benign,
I see this conversation as a chance to do some citywide spring cleaning,
akin to moving pictures, furniture, and tchotchkes around a house in
order to shuffle the energy.
A lot of suggestions have been made, many quite humorous (Richard
Simmons! Guitar Lightnin’ Lee!). Ernie K-Doe would make a great
beacon: his regal figure and self-appointed title “Emperor of the
Universe” seem like natural qualities for a statue. However, in the spirit
of Quixotic political crusades that embody Antigravity, I’d like to suggest
another person of great historical importance for consideration: Henry
Glover. Hopefully you are already familiar with this name. Henry Glover
was a 31 year-old New Orleanian who was killed by the NOPD in the
immediate aftermath of Katrina. Glover, who had been previously shot in
the chest, was rushed to a commandeered police outpost in Algiers, only
to be met by violent cops who beat and detained Glover’s rescue party.
Glover himself bled out in the backseat of the car he was brought in,
and his remains were set afire and left to burn anonymously on a barren
stretch of levee. Subsequent investigations would eventually reveal the
NOPD’s role in this crime and the coverup that followed.
When we enshrine things and set them into the public geography, the
idea is to never forget, and I would think a monument to Glover would set
his story, literally, in stone. I’m not trying to be morbid. I just see it as an
opportunity to reflect not only on the grizzly details of one man’s death,
but to appreciate the resurrection of the facts and the eventual light that
shined on this grim episode, all during a major watershed event for the city.
A monument to Glover would be a hopeful reminder that a government
(and in this case, its agents of enforcement) can’t vaporize the truth when
it has gone violently off course. Glover’s case—and not the removal of
outdated statues—is a true example of an attempt to erase history.
Hundreds of years into the future, if you want to know who Robert E. Lee
was, you’ll be able to find out. Removing his statue will hardly affect that.
As for this modest proposal, I won’t hold my breath. I’m aware that Lee
Circle (and every other Confederate monument like it) will be replaced
with figures far more palatable to the people who actually implement
these decisions, which, speaking of—will we ever see an election on this?
New Orleans is going through some intense growing pains right now,
some of them healthy and some of them not (and you can read plenty
more about that in this month’s issue). Removing these monuments is
one thing we can all work on to truly revive our city. —Dan Fox
[email protected]
FACEBOOK.COM/ANTIGRAVITYMAG
@ANTIGRAVITYMAG / #ANTIGRAVITYMAG
Comments
opened here? The false critique that
there isn’t seafood anymore really
perplexes me. How much seafood
are people in this neighborhood
demanding??” —Sim1
“So what’s the answer? Let the
hipsters burn it down next time?
Let it go back to being a blighted
collapsing building, and insist that
the next owner (if there is one) be
an anarchist who will offer damaged
vegetables for free to all the smelly
credit-card trust-fund crusties
begging for weed money on the
corner of St. Claude and Elysian
Fields?” —happydog
“All the clever wording doesn’t
disguise this article’s pandering
to the poor artists and other ‘been
here my whole life’ common folk.
Money talks and when enough
people with it decide on developing
neighborhoods, it’s going to happen.
Those old Navy shipyards in the
Bywater are going to become a
port for Disney cruise ships. That
whole riverfront will be condos.
The people who will live there will
afford to live there. The poor artistic
folk will move on somewhere else
and the cycle will begin again... This
is also happening in Central City
along Oretha Castle Haley but no
one cares because Central City is
practically a warzone and not as
many white kids have their drum
circles there.” —Nola Trash Talk
Last month we ran a critical piece on the newly opened St. Roch Market, written
by Andru Okun (“Going Hungry at the St. Roch Market”). As always with
matters food-related, New Orleanians responded in droves. Here are some of
your comments from emails, comments, and Facebook posts. Bon Appetit!
“WELCOME TO GHIRARDELLI
CITY” —PERIS
“The St. Roch Market was to return
to the neighborhood as providing
fresh food in a food desert,
designed to meet the needs of the
neighborhood. It clearly has failed
to do so.” —Lynn Cowles
“How are you going to have this
long of an article on the local food
movement and never discuss the
impacts on the folks that produce
your food? It’s kind of crazy how
often farmers and food industry
workers get left out of these types of
conversations.” —Teal Brooks
“It would appear that the refusal
to accept SNAP for the handful of
items that do qualify is the plainest
and most damning evidence that
the St. Roch Market was never
intended for the entire community,
just the more economically stable
residents of the neighborhood.
Not accepting SNAP payments
is no different than putting up a
sign stating ‘poor people are not
4 * ANTIGRAVITY * JULY 2015
welcome’” —TurkeyMuffin
“This article is so unnecessarily
negative and mean spirited toward
the local vendors who are putting
forth a creative, affordable and
amazingly modern take on the
historic Market. Conveniently,
the author’s derisive list of the
various vendors leaves out Elysian
Seafood, which sells fresh seafood
at good prices 7 days a week and
has a weekly boil. Also, the produce
at St. Roch Forage is great and
cheap. How disheartening it must
be for these nice, hard working
vendors who just opened to read
something like this that spreads
disinformation and is not true!
There is a grocery store that sells
basic staples and accepts SNAP
literally across the street. There is
also a produce and seafood market
1 mile away at the French Market.
There is also Circle Foods grocery
store 1 mile away. What exactly
is the author wishing would have
“Imagine how much the seafood
and produce would have cost if the
city went with an actual market.
There is no way the food would have
been affordable with the overhead
the city is charging due to the
renovations.” —Jof
“Whether or not you support St.
Roch Market, it is exploiting the
direct low-income communities.
That’s the whole point of this
article: money supposedly
dedicated to helping low-income
communities was instead used to
build an establishment for uppermiddle class people, all while
shaping the narrative that the
market is bolstering those lowincome communities.” —MxD
“Food desert does not apply to this
area. Save-a-Lot is a short walk
away and they accept SNAP; as does
Circle Foods, Family Dollar, General
Dollar, and the Food Co-op along
with many small ‘convenience’
stores nearby... Yes tax money went
in to renovate this historic but
abandoned (10 years!) building.
The building is beautifully restored;
many neighbors are working in
it, LOCAL entrepreneurs are
taking a big step toward becoming
business owners. One business,
La Charcuterie, is expanding into
the here-to-fore languishing blue
blighted building across the street.
And white privileged out-of-town
vandals can bemoan the injustice
of it all. Boo hoo! Economic
Displacement (not gentrification)
is the greater issue here, not a food
court for average wage earners like
me.” —Voodoopig
“Interesting piece—but wait until
the Jack & Jake’s Market opens in
Central City—crystal chandeliers
and French antiques supported by
a million dollars from the city to
address “food deserts.” Can’t wait
to shop for $40/pound cheeses—a
great “food access” project. J&J will
make Balducci’s look like Sav a Lot,
and the public is helping pay for it
with all kinds of subsidies. What
long-time members of a community
want and need is completely
disregarded when there’s money
to be made, and “artisan” local
products can be fawned over
by people with sick amounts of
money.” —dj2500
“It isn’t development itself, it’s
the pace and source of the change.
The pace purposefully undermines
the coping mechanisms of the free
market and of government that are
meant to balance such things. And
the source is increasingly outside
the community (and colluding
with those meant to represent the
community). It is not, therefore,
an investment strategy, but rather
an extraction strategy. They are
mining wealth at a furious pace with
the blessings of those people, in the
private or public sphere, who are
charged with keeping guard against
such short-sighted operations.” —
caspian915
The saga continues on page 17...
Waterloo, Louisiana: An Open Letter to New Orleans
Today’s mantra is: push the envelope, but don’t forget to mail the letter. Let’s
be truthful: It is impossible to be honest in New Orleans. And it is even harder
to speak to a full belly about hunger. But New Orleans is at a pivotal point in its
history; when this city is embracing change, not eschewing it, America’s food
capital is becoming a food desert.
Our love of food is our hubris. Our gluttony has sowed the seeds of a food desert.
We have nowhere to buy fresh food, public or wholesale. We have more Taco Bells
in New Orleans than organic farms in Louisiana. Dining options are incessantly
popping-up, but food is not staying put. Chain stores and city-sanctioned food
courts are being built, subsidized, and buoyed by local government. But where is
our culinary affirmative action? Where is the municipal support for healthy food
that our unhealthy city needs? Our farmers markets are waltzing ever closer to a
spectacular plateau. Corporate food stores (and chain stores which sell food) are
opening with greater frequency. What diamonds we have are decentralized, shortterm stitches in a long-term quilt. All the while, we citizens are receiving more of
what we don’t want and less of what we need.
New Orleans’ cuisine—nonpareil at its worst, life-changing at its best—was
created by proximity and precedence. This intersection of cultures engendered
an architecture of singular exceptionality; it was as if the Tower of Babel had a
restaurant on its ground floor. Everything was predicated on what was local, that
is, on hand. Ingredients, equipment, recipes, and artisans annealed an identity
exceptional, and isolated. This spleen of America was the confluence of culture—
music, fashion, language, customs, rhetoric—and that is nowhere more apparent
than in our food.
Today, it’s not the past which is threatened, but the future. We are dedicated to
the preservation of the past because we are unprepared for the future: nowhere
is this fear more manifest than on our plates. While the availability of prepared
food (dining) is at an apex, real food—the kind we eat everyday—is in a ditch. We
have nothing to eat at home, so we go out. We are hypnotized by the trends, the
names, the choices—drunk with the perceived democracy of it all. But the helium
is making us all dizzy, and gravity will hurt when the bubble pops: we are fed the
sizzle and not the steak.
Simply put, healthy and sustainable food is not being created (or encouraged) in
New Orleans or Louisiana. All our sugar, grits, rice, and flour are still lily white.
Our eggs, meat, and dairy are imported. Southeast Asian shrimp and crawfish
lurk in too many restaurant kitchens and on grocery shelves. Homogenous and
pasteurized calories are grown thousands of miles away, then sent here to be
consumed in a transaction. It’s like a constant Christmas with so much packaging:
are we unpacking lunch or presents?
We have spent so much time clutching our forks and stirring our drinks that we
have disregarded the menu’s menu. We don’t ask where or how, only what and
when, because not enough chefs, grocers, or bakers do. We know the trivial hiccups
of every short-tooth celebrity chef, but we don’t know any farmers. Or millers.
Or ranchers. Or bee-keepers. We don’t know our food because we don’t know the
people who make it, or the soil that grows it. And that relationship can never be
bought or shopped for.
In the words of a mentor, “What geographical bedrock is absent below New
Orleans is present above.” Our emotional, human grit is rich, deep—a long,
winding corollary that tethers us to this City. And through this City, to each other.
That umbilical cord is nourishment—cultural, social, political—but it literally
transports the healthiness of food. And if we do not earnestly cultivate those
calories, we will be lost. We must be stewards of the City and Region—its soil, its
people, its wetlands its water, its agency—and we cannot do that until we take
seriously the erosion of access, now an anti-access, to fresh, local food. We have the
infrastructure, we have the appetite, and most importantly, we have the precedent.
The pyramid must be inverted and the paradigm must be shifted. We cannot favor
corporations, developers, or entrepreneurs who have no relationship or experience
with food to run our markets or groceries. The bottom line is food, not finance.
Biodiversity, integrity, and long-term vision must be incentivized and encouraged.
We must embrace substance over form, subsidize policy and people, not property.
Invest rather than extract; teach the beauty of straight lines and not the hustle
towards angles. People who make food should sell food. (Or the people close to
its creation should). Fresh, healthy food becomes affordable as it becomes widely
available. We must have a long-term, dedicated re-focus and re-structuring of the
nature of supply. In other words, we must nurture the Nature in supply.
Sincerely,
Graison S. Gill
Owner, Bellegarde Bakery
JULY 2015 * ANTIGRAVITY * 5
DEFEND NEW ORLEANS
11 0 1 F I R S T , N O L A 7 0 1 3 0
defendneworleans.com
@defendnola
Astrocreep
by MISTRESS ANTHROPY
RECEIVE THY NEW POSSESSOR
If you’ve kept a diary, this will all be easier. One possible avenue is to go through the
paraphernalia of your past and draw connections based on month. Look through all
of your journal entries, medical records, photographs, and receipts associated with a
month—or failing that, household objects you associate with dates—and study them.
Calendars or old datebooks can help direct you toward recognizing your holidays
of joy or grief, exaltation or remembrance. Holidays can commemorate or they can
collect. They can recognize events so transformative that it feels like your body has
stored the memory of them away in itself, apart from your mind. Or they can gather
up and direct a feeling that, uncollected, could control or distract you. Keep both these
functions of holidays in mind. Holidays can be recurring or they can happen just once,
like rites of passage. Be rash and even arbitrary when appointing significance! Why
not decide that one specific party you were at in 2003 was the Festival of Love, and
you can only date people who were in attendance. Then, you get to find sneaky ways to
determine prospective lover eligibility.
If you, like me, have diligently taken down certain passages from books or passing
thoughts over the years—whether organized in a notebook or haphazard on any old
piece of paper, congratulations! You are already your religion’s first scribe. If you
can correlate the words with dates you may gain insight into the way your moods and
thoughts cycle with the seasons. If, toward the end of June in a schedule book from
2005, you jotted down:
“Was my sense of being in love not just the result of living in a
particular cultural epoch?” —Alain De Botton
And then, around the same time several years later on the back of a proof of immunization:
“After the fourth or fifth time she knew she had to make a
decision: did she want to live or did she want to die? If die, there
were quicker ways. If live, she had to live differently.” (Atwood 33)
Then, well, you know something about the significance of the seasons to your
denomination. These words can become not only guideposts on the outlines of your
sect but also axioms from your religious lexicon. If on a torn-out newspaper clipping
about a record you meant to buy you see your own handwriting advising you that
“iced tea vodka on an empty stomach is easy,” consider that might become your very
own Golden Rule.
When I was well on my way along this journey (it’s a process, not finite) I discovered
one very special relic. It was like the Shroud of Ms. Anthropy, or Ozma still having
a voice at the end of Return to Oz. It was proof of divine contact. I found a piece of
paper with careful notes documenting the same objects and their implied significance
that I had just encountered. Though there was no memory of taking those notes, I
knew they were evidence that I had undertaken this same journey before. I made the
path I was now walking. That is the right way.
But you don’t need such clear signals to push this forward. You can take anything
you find and make it into anything you want. To illustrate this point, I offer you this
legitimate piece of garbage, a collection of attempts at first sentences for a letter that
was never sent, many years ago. It is decidedly not on par with the Psalms. But why
not elevate it to that level? Raise the stakes on your own nonsense. Better an excess of
meaning than a deficiency.
you can’t visit because my room is a hot little coffin. it’s too hot and
too little for more than one person to slowly die in.
you can’t visit because i have a contagious disease.
Images, slightly altered, sourced from a section of Andrew Comstock’s A System of Elocution,
with Special Reference to Gesture, to the Treatment of Stammering, and Defective Articulation that depicts Satan’s address to his legions in Milton’s Paradise Lost (1846).
I can’t tell if this is really excellent, spiritually sustaining advice, or a path to
guaranteed psychosis, but in this month’s column I will instruct you to develop a
detailed personal mythology to underpin your own exclusive, elaborate spiritual
affiliation. You can still tell people you are a non-practicing Whatever, or an Atheist,
or Agnostic, anything. Or you can still be one of those things and ignore my advice.
But in order to cultivate the richest inner life possible, I urge you to consider the
following option.
My recommendation is not for you to fabricate your faith, invent it from pure
imagination. I won’t totally condemn that path, but my gut reaction to it is nah. Sounds
too much like actual religion or self-help or a cult (see last month’s column for more
on that). The material you must use to construct your individual religion is your own
life: your experiences. A religion is comprised of rituals, anthems, texts, images, and
community—but yours must only involve communing with yourself. Others can see
the temple but they must not enter. It must remain a private experience, rather than a
public performance. As a devotional sacrifice to my readers, I will now partially forgo
that vital component and share pertinent details of my own private faith. I do this in
hopes that it will illuminate the path for you, toward your own belief system.
you can’t visit because i’m dead.
you can’t visit because i don’t know what to do with you, take you to
the zoo maybe, but the zoo is depressing.
you can’t visit because you’re a scary alcoholic and i don’t even
really drink these days.
you can’t visit because i would rather spend four days babysitting
five Boston terriers, Paris Hilton, the Bush daughters, all of my dead
relatives and regrets, than i would essentially babysitting you.
you can’t visit because i actually don’t know you at all and the only
reason i never said “no” about you visiting is because of ennui
basically and being a wimp and being stupidly flattered, and the
constant excuse that i’m writing a book about the stupid things i
do in the name of advancing social science in the field of popomo
dating and relationships.
you can’t visit because we never talk, we have nothing to talk about,
and your letter sucked, i thought it was long but you wrote it on 3
part carbon paper for some reason, your interest in me is baseless
and insulting.
you can’t visit because i would rather be visiting my out of town
friends than having you visit me.
you can’t visit because your moon and sun are both in gemini and i
just don’t trust you.
you can’t visit because my panic for a rationalization for my panic
has forced me to become even more obsessed with astrology which
has made me even more alienating and difficult to be around.
i’m sorry you already bought your plane tickets... you can’t visit.
Maybe that’s more of a parable.
The chaos of Summer is the perfect soup in which to concoct your faith, particularly
if you have the ailment “Summertime Sadness” (so deemed by Our Holy Lady of
Torch Songs Lana Del Rey). If you can’t stand yourself or anyone around you and feel
restless and irritable, this exercise may improve your coping with those feelings. Or it
may distract you until the next phase. Or it may have very little spiritual benefit but
allow you to perceive your own patterns of behavior in a new, helpful light.
Venus goes retrograde on July 25, meaning that astrologically speaking if you have
sex with an ex around then you are more likely to have an unplanned pregnancy... it’s
just science. This month, this capricious universe has seen fit to bless us with two Full
Moons: July 2, in Capricorn, and July 31, in Aquarius. The New Moon is July 16, in
its cosmic lover Cancer.
Aries
It’s a shame that the way we
experience ourselves is often so
disconnected from how others
experience us. Attempting to control
other people’s ideas is at best a bad
look, though. If you ask your trusted
friends for insight on how you’re
being received—particularly by
people who are a mystery to you—
and trust them, you might be able to
wrest some much-needed balance
as you walk the tightrope between
being socially intimidated and being
socially intimidating.
Taurus
If you’re feeling stuck, it could be
because you’ve been having the
wrong conversations about the
unfulfilling relationships in your
life. This is particularly likely to
occur when you perceive a power
dynamic as being in your favor—
like if you are the one who is more
desired or who is operating from a
position of more stability. Failing to
be honest is its own abuse of power;
it means you’re making a decision
about what the other person ought
to even know. Admit what you want
and you can figure the rest out.
Gemini
At this point in your maturity,
you’re able to draw upon patience
and tolerance to an extent that
you wouldn’t have felt possible at a
younger stage. But just because you
can put up with something doesn’t
mean you ought to, and without
the emotional red flags (irritability,
hurt feelings, etc.) that a bad
pattern is developing, sometimes
you’re passive for too long. There
will be moments of uncertainty or
ambiguity to tolerate. Do you feel
protective of people who have hurt
you? This horoscope is a canary in
the coalmine.
Cancer
Culturally, we tend to associate
sensitivity with weakness. This
fucks with those of us told we are
women. This fucks with those of us
told we are men. This fucks with
us! But moonchild, you know how
your emotional vulnerability makes
you powerful, and if you can project
that outward, it will feel like selfconfidence. For a lot of people, it’s
hard to tell what self-confidence is.
Some mistake it with feeling entitled
to treat other people badly, or feeling
more important than others. It’s
neither. You’ve got a powerful engine
in a car that’s up on blocks. Resolve
this and you will be nourished.
Leo
You’re always on fire but summer’s
your season. Royal lion, you’re a
smolderer. Talk to yourself out
loud just to practice externalizing.
Whatever it takes to keep from
psyching yourself out—do it,
whether it’s ice cream, exercise,
or some totally awesome selfdetermined combination of the
two. If you stop judging yourself,
twisting yourself in knots, and being
unintentionally porous to the toxic
insecurities of people around you,
a period of personal blossoming
could follow. Give yourself space to
have ideas. Give yourself space to be
weird. This month is a great one to
begin keeping a journal.
Virgo
It feels like you’re missing an
important person in your life,
but not in the role of lover or
necessarily friend. You’re longing
for a spiritual mentor. That’s a
really special role though, and for
some they only come along once
in a lifetime, and sometimes only
when we’re really young and all our
consultations have to be retroactive.
If you can’t find a leader and you’re
having trouble leading yourself,
nurture yourself by talking to
those who believe in you—and keep
yourself from judging or picking
apart their support.
Libra
You know how preposterous this
sounds, but lately it feels like if you
were just in charge of a couple more
things the whole operation would
run more smoothly. The parameters
of your job description can feel like
a liability to the whole enterprise.
Being proven right is pretty great,
but losing your job kind of sucks.
Given that, take a measured risk.
You are more likely to succeed if
you are perceived as acting for the
greater good and not just your own
self-interest. Diplomacy sometimes
requires excessive apologizing. It’s
tedious but you have it in you.
Scorpio
A Scorpio is the type of person
who raises their eyebrows at those
apps that tell you how much money
you’re saving each day you don’t
smoke cigarettes. It’s not that you
don’t appreciate the incentive, you
just know that a vice deferred will
find some other form to take. This
month, deny yourself a habitual
indulgence without taking up a new
one. Instead, consciously redirect
your urge into hunger and exercise
restraint. You will discover, if you
didn’t already know, that hunger
itself can be sustaining. And you’ll
need that knowledge around the
New Moon.
way the air feels before a storm, but
this month breaks onto you like
the air just after. Tension has been
released, but you slept through the
storm. What happened that made
you feel so much lighter? Instead of
ruminating on it, try to see the tasks
before you with cleared eyes. See,
also, your peers with a gentler vision.
There are reserves of patience in
you, and if you access them in your
dealings with those who usually
frustrate you, you’ll notice a greater
sense of peace this month.
Aquarius
Often you perceive discord as if
from above, observing the separate
factions. Maybe picking a side, but
always able to see exactly what
failings in each party obstruct
resolution (the inward gaze is not so
consistently impartial). If you want
to unite people, do it by cultivating
stability and trustworthiness in
yourself, not by forcing issues. If
that sounds tedious to you, consider
that the reward will be a renewed
bounty of love in your life, a type
of communal affection you’ve been
sorely lacking.
Pisces
Something stubborn stills your
hands when the sun rises. You listen
anxiously for an echo of what you
were thinking at midnight but that
part of your memory is wooden.
A recent change in the balance of
how you spend your time makes
you feel inadequate. Bring the part
of yourself that is innocent into
your interactions with the people
you want to impress. If you let your
purest muscle memory guide you,
and offer up what you have, you will
remember the ineffable thing you
forgot during the night.
Sagittarius
Though you’re famously strongwilled, there is a part of you that
is soft and yielding. Do you know
where your own weaknesses
are? Knowledge can help you
minimize damage. This month
you find excess irresistible. It has
something to do with consumption,
literal and figurative. What are
you compelled to imbibe? Trace
back to the moment of ingestion
by taking stock of your digestion.
The experiences you can’t quite get
out of your mind, the grudge you
can’t quite shake—there’s a type of
person you’re allergic to, and it’s
time to diagnose who.
Capricorn
Your experience of June was the
Reality Bites
by YVETTE DEL RIO illustration BEN CLAASSEN III
HOT DOGS!
July is a very special month for me because it’s my birthday! And before you get
any ideas about that, I’m a Leo not a Cancer, which—as I’m sure you realize—is
a very important distinction. Last year, I was seriously going through some stuff
on my birthday, and as you may expect, I found myself at a truck stop gas station
somewhere in Alabama, drinking blue Icees and eating hot dogs while listening to
the Best of the Judds. In honor of that, and the 4th of July (I guess), this month is
all about hot dogs!
I’M SURE SOMEONE
WANTS RED BEANS
AND RICE ON A
HOT DOG, BUT THAT
SOMEONE ISN’T ME.
Dat Dog (various locations)
Dat Dog is the gold standard of NOLA
hot dogs; I expect a lot from them,
and they usually deliver. I’ve never
ventured into the weirdo dogs (the
alligator with crawfish etoufee, a
turducken dog with hummus and
wasabi); it feels like gilding the wiener
lily. I always stick with the same thing—
smoked sausage with creole mustard
and sweet relish—and I’ve never been
disappointed. So I was faced with the
conundrum of trying to figure out if, for
the purposes of this review, I should go
with the old favorite or try something
wackadoo. I ultimately decided to
concoct the nastiest sounding dog and
order that as well as my old favorite.
I got a duck dog with guacamole and
mayonnaise. It was vile, like every
aspect of it was horrifying, but I bet
someone would love it. The regular dog
was predictably delicious. So, if you’re
like me, and you like your weenies
basic, Dat Dog delivers. And my guess
is if a crawfish dog with andouille sauce
and ranch dressing sounds good to you,
then you’d probably be into this place as
well. Also, the buns here are perfection.
The music is always awful, so there’s
that to consider if you’re dining in. 9/10
Gilded Lilies
Race Trac Gas Station (various
locations)
Ah, the gas station hot dog roller
thingies. You know what I’m talking
about, the metal machine that
endlessly, and mesmerizingly, rolls
wiener after wiener, in an eternal ballet
of meat byproducts. I have literally no
clue how they work (is it steam? Are
the metal bars hot?) and I honestly
don’t care. It’s really hard for me to
pass by one of these and not just stare,
hypnotized by its infinite dance. This
is a solid gas station hot dog. I like that
the buns are kept warm, and that you
can add nacho cheese to your dog if
you’re feeling adventurous. There’s also
roughly a zillion drink options. What
more can you ask for? Also, these hot
dogs are 99 cents. 8.5/10 Eternal Ballets
Dreamy Weenies (740 N. Rampart St.)
I’ve been to Dreamy Weenies a number
of times, but had only ever tried their
corndogs. Like Dat Dog, they have a
lot of “wacky” options which seem
superfluous to the experience. I’m sure
someone wants red beans and rice on
a hot dog, but that someone isn’t me. I
can’t even imagine why I’d want grits
on a hot dog; like what’s the point?
The atmosphere is cute and I like that
you can see the Armstrong Park sign
across the street. I don’t understand
why the drink station is so high up (I
literally had to fill my soda above my
head), but they do have herbal iced tea
which is nice, assuming you can reach
it. On to the dogs! I got a traditional,
dressed only with creole mustard
and relish; my dining companion
ordered the “Arabi” which was a beef
kabob wiener with a curry sauce and
roasted garlic. She made the better
choice. One bite of hers and I wished I
hadn’t ordered the boring version. I’m
rethinking my aversion to weirdo hot
dogs, y’all! Dreamy Weenies also has
halal, kosher, and vegan options, which
is great information to store in your
mental rolodex in case you’re dining
with a friend who has special dietary
concerns. One thing to note, however,
is that while I think Dreamy Weenies is
equally as good as Dat Dog, they’re also
slightly more expensive. 9/10 Sky High
Drink Stations
GB’s Patio Bar & Grill (8117 Maple St.)
This hot dog tastes exactly like what
you’d get if you boiled up some Great
Value brand wieners, put them on a
Bunny Bread bun, and threw some offbrand chili on top. It’s not bad, per se;
it’s a classic children’s birthday party
hot dog that just happens to come from
a frat-bro pub. If that’s your thing, this
is your place. Oh yeah, their hot dogs
come with fries that taste exactly like
those frozen Ore-Ida ones that come
in a red bag. You can get a better dog at
a gas station for roughly 1/7 the price,
and you won’t be forced to listen to
Third Eye Blind. 1/10 Birthday Party
Hot Dogs
Costco (3900 Dublin St.)
You know what? You could do worse
than Costco if you only have $1.50 to
spend on lunch (including a soda with
free refills!). These hot dogs are basic
but tasty, and it’s genuinely fun to turn
a knob to dispense condiments. I mean,
it’s a hot dog from the Costco cafeteria.
Should you bring a first date here?
Maybe not (unless they happen to be
hella cool), but I can’t pretend I haven’t
stopped in and enjoyed one before
buying 10 pounds of hummus, 6 dozen
batteries, and 1,000 trash bags. 8.75/10
Condiment Knobs
Siberia (2227 St. Claude)
I love Siberia and accordingly, I eat
there roughly twice a week. They have,
hands down, my favorite burgers in
town, so I was thrilled when I saw that
they were offering a kielbasa dog on
a pretzel bun as a special. How could
that be wrong? Well it was. And it kills
me to have to say it. The sauce was
straight up gross. I don’t know what
it was. It tasted like a cheesy mustard
and scraping it off helped the situation,
but not by much. The bun was good,
but overwhelmingly salty; the kielbasa
just wasn’t my taste. It was too much
sausage, too much sauce and it was just
an overall disappointment. The real
slap in the face is that I could have been
eating my beloved Reuben sandwich, or
a Black and Blue Burger, some pierogis,
or anything else on their delicious,
amazing menu. Sigh. 2/10 Siberia, I
love you SO MUCH, and I know you can
do better
Lucky Dogs (food cart, various
locations)
When I was a kid, my mom worked
at the Royal Sonesta Hotel, and the
highlight of going to visit her at work
(besides getting to play office and
stealing fancy pens) was getting a Lucky
Dog for dinner after. Lucky Dogs are
so New Orleans; I feel like I’m in A
Confederacy of Dunces or something.
However, I haven’t had one since I
was in middle school. No time like the
present! This cart was parked right off
Bourbon on Street and Philip Street,
so obviously I can’t complain about
the surroundings. I know locals love to
throw shade at the Quarter, and I’m no
exception. It’s so easy to be like, “Ugh,
I can’t find parking, there’s too many
tourists, it smells funny, wah wah...”
But let’s be real here for a minute, the
French Quarter is gorgeous and it’s
fun to walk down tiny streets, window
shopping, drinking a big soda and
eating a hot dog. Lucky Dogs taste
exactly like I remember from when I
was little. The bun is sweet, the wiener
is salty, and the whole thing is perfect.
No complaints. 10/10 Fancy Pens
I tried to go to Motown Coney Island
(I love the idea of just taking two
random places and stringing them
together to make a name: Chi-Town
Seattle! Denver Venice Beach!) and
New Orleans Famous Hot Dogs, both
on Broad Street; however, neither were
ever open when I went. I drove by on
different days at different times (I tried
six different times in all) and no luck at
either. Either both of these places have
closed down, or they just have really
impossible hours. Either way, you win
some, you lose some.
Hidden Louisiana
words and photos BREONNE DeDECKER
FREAKS OF NATURE
And then one morning, two teenagers
were standing in the overgrown gravel
driveway of the place. The bus stopped,
and they got on. I was floored; for all
of my fantasizing about this strange
house, I was shocked that people
actually lived there. And then I was
ashamed by that reaction, of being so
attracted to something so obviously
constructed by a human hand and yet
repulsed by being confronted by people
who lived there. The shame made me
too nervous to meet the eyes of the two
kids walking down the aisle of the bus
towards me. I turned away, looking
out the window towards the place they
came from.
It was the only time that year the bus
stopped at the house. The next year
I lived in a different neighborhood,
and didn’t pass the house every day. I
never figured out who the two kids at
my school were who lived there. Being
confronted by their reality was not as
comfortable as my fantasy about their
so-called outsider artists in the South.
Kenny Hill, the creator of the Chauvin
Sculpture Gardens, is one of them.
There is not a lot of information
available on the man, not even his
birthdate. Kenny Hill was a bricklayer
who settled in Chauvin in the mid1980s, pitching a tent next to the
bayou and doing construction work
for a living. In his spare time, he
began to build elaborate sculptures
out of rebar and cement, his only
tools a fork and a spoon. He built
angels and horses, archways twined
with cement roses, a blonde man
holding a seashell to his ear. The
centerpiece was a lighthouse adorned
with scenes of Native Americans
hunting buffalo, a jazz band blowing
horns, bodies climbing up to the
heavens. It is a beautiful, strange
place, filled with sunshine. Manicured
paths wind through the sculptures,
small palm trees framing the lifesized angels.
HE POSED US IN FRONT OF
AN ELABORATE FIREPLACE
ALTAR AND SNAPPED OUR
PHOTO WITH A DISPOSABLE
CAMERA. HUNDREDS OF
PHOTOGRAPHS OF HIS
VISITORS STANDING IN THE
SAME PLACE, ALL GRINNING
MANIACALLY, WERE GLUED
TO POSTER BOARDS
AROUND THE ROOM.
I went to high school in a small
suburban town named Evans, Georgia,
named after a minor Confederate
general. The school was new, freshly
built in the far outer suburbs of
Augusta. The demographics of the
school were odd—a combination of
Southern nouveau-riche hailing from
gated subdivisions boasting ridiculous
names and golf courses, and poor kids
from the rural area that had been
unincorporated until fairly recently.
BMWs and mudding trucks mingled
in the parking lot. Deep divisions of
race and class were mainly ignored,
and were subtly enforced by the notso-subtle classification of students as
either “tech prep” or “college bound.”
Freshman year, I rode the bus. Our route
meandered through two subdivisions
and picked up a string of teens along
the side of the depressed commercial
strip that was the main artery in town.
Every morning, on our route between
the sprawling subdivision of small brick
manors and the squeaky clean suburban
outpost in the middle of the woods, we
passed a bizarre house on the side of the
main road.
I use the term “house” loosely. It was
surrounded by two fences—a rough
wooden one with a chain link behind
it, barbed wire looped over the tops.
Huge flowering vines, bushes, and cacti
further obscured the property. Dozens
of statues provided an additional
barrier between the house and the
viewer: a giant angel, several Hindu
goddesses, cement dogs, deer, turtles.
Giant decorative lampposts dotted
the yard. The house did not appear to
have any windows. It seemed slapped
together out of several different
materials, stone and plywood mainly.
Wooden garden trellises were nailed
haphazardly to the tar-papered walls.
Huge metal doors seemed to be the only
entrance to the building. The Statue of
Liberty stood proudly on the roof.
The house fascinated me. I tried to
always sit on the correct side of the bus
in the mornings and afternoons just to
get a look at it. I made up stories about
the people who lived there, imagining
how strange or sad they might be.
reality, and navigating the difference
was certainly out of my depth at 14.
We like freaky things, but most of the
time we like having distance from
the freaks who make them. We like
things when they are clean, when
they are removed from their context.
This is how I feel about the term
“outsider art”—that it is a way to signal
that the maker is odd, perhaps even
unpalatable, but somehow what they
create transcends the value we place on
the person. The art is worth more than
the artist, a sort of divine channeling
by a country rube at best or an idiot
savant at worst. It is the friendlier
term for what was originally referred
to as Art Brut, which only referred to
art produced by the institutionalized.
Outsider Art refers to any art made
outside of the boundaries of accepted
culture, meaning folks on the fringes
of society, people who did not get
formally trained by the academy, who
do not know the canon of western
art and are not creating in a dialogue
with other artists. And since much of
the South is outside the boundaries
of accepted culture, there are a lot of
Now managed by Nicholls State
University, the Chauvin Sculpture
Gardens (5337 Bayouside Drive,
Chauvin, Louisiana) are a small tourist
destination, complete with official state
signage and a visitors center. But the
neighbors didn’t like the garden when
it was being built, when Kenny Hill was
living there and creating his work. Sure,
he upgraded his tent to a shack, but
he didn’t cut the grass. He didn’t allow
people to come into the gardens to view
the work, and didn’t allow anyone to
take photos. He refused to explain the
sculptures in depth, stating that they
were “a story of salvation” for the town.
The town evicted him in 2000 over
persistent issues with maintaining the
property. Furious, Hill knocked the
head off of a statue of Jesus and left
the town on foot. Supposedly he lives
somewhere near Shreveport now.
It’s strange how divorced Hill is from
his creation, though perhaps it is
the way most people would prefer.
It is far easier to appreciate his work
without his difficult presence, his
cageyness, his sloppiness. The gardens
might be better without him. But it is
certainly disconcerting to think of how
beautifully cared for his creation is,
and how little care goes into learning
anything about him, finding out where
he is, figuring out how he is doing.
standing in the same place, all grinning
maniacally, were glued to poster boards
around the room. It was touching to
see him collecting his visitors in the
same way he collected his newspaper
clippings of Elvis.
How do you separate the creator from
the creation? Does deleting the human
mania that fueled something like the
Chauvin Sculpture Gardens also delete
a very necessary experiential element
needed to fully understand a space?
Paul died in July of 2014. He had
recently shot and killed a young Black
man named Dwight David Taylor
Jr., who may or may not have been
breaking into his house, who may or
may not have been a friend, who may
or may not have been a poorly paid
handyman for Graceland Too. The
house was closed, the collections put
on the auction block. A few items were
donated to the local historical society,
and an archive is being organized.
A big glossy art book was recently
published, aiming to share the story
of this “organic piece of Deep South
folk art.” The “piece of folk art” refers
to both the house and Paul. All that
remains are cleaned up, curated
depictions of them—glossy pictures
of the house, a sanitized portrait
of an eccentric that could never
accurately depict what a disconcerting
experience Graceland Too was.
Menace repackaged as funky kitsch.
***
Two winters ago, I stood on the porch
of a very strange house, knocking.
Located in Holly Springs, Mississippi,
Graceland Too was a 24-hour roadside
attraction where, for a donation of
$5, you gained entrance to a decrepit
temple to Elvis built by a decrepit
hoarder named Paul MacLeod. It was a
dark, murky-smelling maze. Every inch
of wall space was covered in images
of Elvis, from record sleeves to velvet
paintings to life-sized cardboard cut
outs. The stairs were covered with
collectible porcelain plates from his
movies. The most banal memorabilia
cluttered every bookcase, including a
massive collection of every TV Guide
in which Elvis was even mentioned. As
he shuffled me and my partner through
his house, Paul sang Elvis songs, his
improperly glued dentures clattering in
his mouth. He told lurid stories about
Ole Miss sorority girls visiting him late
at night, and showed off a crudely handbuilt electric chair, boasting it was
an original from the set of Jailhouse
Rock. The space heater kept blowing
the fuses, plunging the house into
claustrophobic darkness. At the end
of the tour, he posed us in front of an
elaborate fireplace altar and snapped
our photo with a disposable camera.
Hundreds of photographs of his visitors
Perhaps it’s the same way with the
Chauvin Sculpture Gardens. Perhaps
they are missing a vital spark without
Kenny Hill present, even despite the
fact that he wasn’t too keen on sharing
his weird little world with anyone else.
There are moments in the gardens
that are unsettling—angels with red
eyes bearing swords to block visitors,
weeping figures hunched in a line. But
these seem like details, moments that
are hard to understand in a creation
myth that is hard to understand.
Without a translator, and with beautiful
landscaping, all the visitor feels is a
sense of wonder and peace.
‘ROO AND ME
Finding That Spark Again on The Farm
voice and the incredible opportunity
they all had to communicate positive
messages of equality to so many open
minds—a message well-conveyed and
received throughout the weekend.
Luckily, I was able to run and catch
most of Alabama Shakes, who
rivaled Gary Clark Jr. and even
by KEVIN COMARDA
photos JOSHUA BRASTED
Having just wrapped up its 14th year,
Bonnaroo still stands as one of the
biggest, most diverse music and arts
festivals in the world. For better or
worse, that means a little something
different to everyone. But for anyone
who has actually attended, it’s always
discussed with a certain degree of
reverence. I am no different. My nineyear residency and annual recaps
are simple testaments to my layered
relationship with the multifest. In the
context of an emotionally turbulent
year, I found it difficult to reconcile
any type of relevance in this old
friend and a lineup to which I didn’t
necessarily connect. It’s okay, though.
I certainly wasn’t going to be one of
those ‘Roo veterans that talk about
how it used to be, man. It’s funny—it’s
almost like an ex you dated for a long
time and you’re trying to figure out
where it went wrong. Maybe we were
focused on different things this year;
maybe the age difference became
more apparent; maybe she’s just really
into EDM right now. Yes, these are
all true. But that doesn’t mean the
energies are any different. The lineups
will always change, adapt, diversify,
etc., but there will always be more than
enough to see and do.
Against Me!
Saturday would turn out to be a bit
of a whirlwind. Somewhere between
Belle & Sebastian (who played
part of the Dukes of Hazzard theme
song), The War on Drugs (who had
me longing for a Kurt Vile show),
Childish Gambino, and Jamie
XX, I was able to stop my head from
spinning long enough to enjoy a
prosciutto pizza in a field with My
Morning Jacket. Now, I know
they’ve played here several times
before, but this was the first time I
was really able to sit and take it in. A
beautiful show on a beautiful, cool
night. Against my better judgement,
I dragged myself out to see Tycho
at 2:00 a.m. It was kind of a perfect
soundtrack to my already dreamlike
state. Then I woke up back at my
tent—wait, I did go see that, right?
Sunday was a rare opportunity for an
easy day. So, it was a perfect time to
run into Dan Fox, our fearless leader
at AG, who had Hurray for the Riff
Raff in tow with him. We were able
to catch up over some much-needed,
well-deserved beers. Hurray graced
the Bluegrass Tent and represented
New Orleans with beaming pride. It’s
always fun to see a bit of hometown
out there—a true highlight that I had
been waiting for all weekend.
With so much ground to cover, you
would think that being free of any
specific commitments would make
this thing easier, when in actuality,
it just made it that much harder to
commit to anything at all. So I dove
in head first. Within the first two
hours, I juggled sets between Glass
Animals, The Growlers, Courtney
Barnett, and Tove Lo (how’s that for
festival depth on opening night?)—
none of whom disappointed, of
course. But my first special moment
found me front and center in the
photo pit at Benjamin Booker—a
killer rock-n-roller by all accounts,
but I think I was more or less just
buzzing about the exclusivity of my
position between audience and band.
Opening night energy is unparalleled,
and I was lucky enough to have a
front row seat!
On Friday, I started the day with a
stiff coffee and a press conference
that included comedian Nick Thune,
whose interview played more like a
branding sales pitch: “They’re like
wet wipes made into mittens and
they’re perfect for these festivals.
So, if you wanna just go ahead and
hashtag Shittens, I’ve got a few
freebies left.” I told him I would get
the word out. #Shittens.
From the cool shroud of the media
tent, I walked out to see Moon Taxi
mugging for the camera. Tears For
Fears wins a few major moments
in my book—“Everybody Wants to
Rule the World” is the coolest way to
start a set, and covering Radiohead’s
“Creep” really tapped into that
energy that keeps me “on the farm.”
Earth, Wind & Fire
Tears for Fears
releasing hundreds of giant silver
balloons, turning the thick crowd
into a collective disco ball that fired
back at the sun. I was unfamiliar with
this band before seeing the show,
but they are now riding high on my
list of fun discoveries this year. As
demonstrated by Slayer and Against
Me!, punk rock is alive and well at the
‘Roo. Earlier in her press conference,
Laura Jane Grace of Against Me!
spoke about the size of Bonnaroo’s
My biggest moment turned out to be
one of my last. It was from Florence
+ the Machine. Not that I didn’t
expect them to be good, but as it turns
out, they are pretty fucking amazing!
Florence Welch is a hero performer.
During most songs she runs the
length of the stage, down into the
audience and back, her voice never
faltering from perfection. “Shake It
Up” and “How Big, How Blue, How
Beautiful” were grandiose, but the
floodgates really opened up when she
called a young fan up on stage for a
hug just before launching into “Dog
Days Are Gone.”
It’s moments like these that will
stick with me forever. They remind
me of why I fell in love with this
exhausting beast in the first place.
Sometimes I feel like these recaps
are just long-winded versions of,
“Well, I guess you had to be there.”
I’m just glad I was.
Earth, Wind & Fire for the “most
soul” award. Oh right, and then Earth,
Wind & Fire brought out Kendrick
Lamar and Chance the Rapper.
Never a dull moment. Out of the
haze, I wandered over to my other
new favorite discovery, Sylvan Esso,
who was playing their first show
back in the U.S. after a lengthy world
tour, and it showed (in the best way
possible). The electronica duo had a
sultry chemistry that had them both
photo by Kevin Comarda
divorced from St. Roch Libations’ profit.
Additionally, this sale of alcohol appears
to be illegal. Bayou Secret’s Class AR
(Restaurant) permit stipulates that it is
specifically designated for “a restaurant
establishment whose purpose and
primary function is to take orders for
and serve food and food items.” The
Mayhaw bar doesn’t serve food or belong
to a restaurant. If Bayou Secret were to
obtain the appropriate permit for The
Mayhaw, a Class AG (Bar) permit, they
would be required to adhere to the rule
of not permitting any person under the
age of 18 years on the premises.
ANOTHER ROUND:
THE REMISS MANAGEMENT OF ST. ROCH MARKET
by ANDRU OKUN illustration RYAN BLACKWOOD
BAYOU SECRET’S CONTROL OF ST.
ROCH MARKET MIGHT SIGNIFY THE
MOST CURRENT BRAND OF CRONYISM
IN NEW ORLEANS GOVERNMENT,
WHERE SMOOTH-TALKING TECHIETYPES WITH ABSTRACT CREDENTIALS
ARE AWARDED PROFIT-GENERATING
TOYS BUILT WITH MILLIONS OF
TAXPAYER DOLLARS.
Last month, I explored St. Roch Market’s failure to provide affordable access to
basic groceries. Will Donaldson and Barre Tanguis were identified as the duo behind
Bayou Secret LLC, the city-designated master tenant of the historic building. I
argued that St. Roch Market’s refusal to accept Supplemental Nutrition Assistance
Program (SNAP) cards indicated the inability on the part of the business to serve
the residents of the local neighborhood, 40% of whom live in poverty. Additionally,
I called into question the use of $3.1 million in Disaster Community Development
Block Grants specifically designated to “help cities, counties, and States recover from
Presidentially declared disasters, especially in low-income areas” on the grounds that
the spending is emblematic not of recovery, but of systematic restructuring. In this
second installment, I investigate the ownership of St. Roch Market to more accurately
ascribe responsibility for the operation of the business and its questionable practices.
Will Donaldson being given the lease
to the St. Roch Market came close on
the heels of his failed bid for ownership
of a separate city-owned property. As
a founding member of Launchpad, an
entrepreneurial incubator based out of
the Warehouse District, Donaldson and
his Launchpad business partners, Barre
Tanguis and Chris Schultz, submitted a
proposal in late 2013 to the City of New
Orleans for the Louisiana Artworks
complex. Their proposal was rejected.
Less than two months later, Donaldson
filed Bayou Secret as an LLC with the
State of Louisiana. He is currently
listed as the company’s registered agent
and manager. Tanguis is listed as one of
the company’s members along with two
other members: Surin Techarukpong,
a Birmingham-based restaurateur, and
David Donaldson, Will Donaldson’s
father. In August 2014, five months
after the LLC filing, Bayou Secret was
declared by the City of New Orleans as
the master tenant of St. Roch Market.
In near proximity to the date of that
announcement, four LLCs were formed
directly related to St. Roch Market
(St. Roch Forage, St. Roch Libations,
Arcadia Court, and Bayou Secret)
listing Donaldson as the registered
agent. Besides acting as the managing
member of Bayou Secret, Donaldson
appears to be in charge of two of the 13
businesses inside St. Roch Market, St.
Roch Forage and St. Roch Libations (via
The Mayhaw). Donaldson is the sole
member of both companies, indicating
his immediate involvement in the two
ventures and their profits.
Bayou Secret forbids any of the St.
Roch Market food vendors from selling
alcohol. All sales of alcohol are made
exclusively through The Mayhaw, the
St. Roch Market bar (owned by St. Roch
Libations). Donaldson uses one of his
companies to enforce rules that allows
for another of his companies to make
money, restricting vendors from selling
alcohol while monopolizing a typically
large source of revenue for restaurants.
To add insult to injury, the alcohol
permit obtained by Bayou Secret is
contingent upon the same food vendors
With the more appropriate Bar permit,
Bayou Secret could technically apply
for a Class AG-Restaurant Conditional
Permit, which would allow The
Mayhaw bar to operate as a Restaurant
permit holder and serve alcohol with
persons under the age of 18 years
present. However, this Conditional
Permit would still require The Mayhaw
to meet the requirements of the Class
AR permit holder between the hours of
7 a.m. and 11 p.m.—to be a restaurant
establishment primarily serving food, a
qualification that The Mayhaw doesn’t
currently meet.
If Bayou Secret were to posit that St.
Roch Market is in fact a restaurant and
thus the Class AR permit is appropriate,
this would be in direct opposition to
the publicized notion that St. Roch
Market, paid for in large part with
federal dollars, is a functioning market.
This would also call into question the
severe misuse of federal funding used
to pay for the rehabilitation of St. Roch
Market: $3.1 million in Community
Development Block Grants (CDBG)
spent in renovations. A document from
rebuild.la.gov detailing $1.4 million in
CDBG expenditures describes the St.
Roch Market as “a project to restore the
St. Roch Market on St. Claude Avenue
to its historic use as a farmers market.”
Either St. Roch Market is a farmers
market with an illegal liquor license, or
St. Roch Market is a restaurant paid for
with federal recovery dollars illicitly
allocated by the City of New Orleans.
The city’s vested interest in the success
of St. Roch Market is indicative of
Mayor Landrieu’s particular vision
of neighborhood revitalization. This
vision may also explain the special
treatment given to Donaldson and his
business practices. St. Roch Market is
prime real estate, located in an area
referred to by the mayor’s office as a
“Cultural Products District.” Bayou
Secret’s monthly rent for the St. Roch
Market is $3,500 (for the first three
years, increasing to $6,500 by the end
of the ten year lease), a remarkably low
figure for an 8,600-square-foot building
with over $3.5 million in renovations.
Sources (speaking under the condition
of anonymity) revealed that the
rental structure determined by Bayou
Secret for St. Roch Market vendors
is drastically different. Vendors pay
a minimum of $150 per day for rent.
With all vendors operating seven
days per week, this means individual
vendors are paying at least $4,500 in
a 30-day month. The minimum rent
Bayou Secret collects from eleven
businesses comes to a total of $49,500.
The monthly collective rent of eleven
vendors, paying for individual stalls and
the use of a collective kitchen, is at least
14 times greater than the rent Bayou
Secret pays to the City of New Orleans
each month for the entire building.
Regardless of sales, $4,500 is the
minimum monthly rent for vendors.
This figure can be even higher for
vendors doing well, with some rents
exceeding $10,000. A centralized point
of sale system, powered through the
software system Square, allows Bayou
Secret to closely monitor all individual
vendor sales and garner varying
percentages of gross sales. Bayou
Secret places higher percentages on
lower earning vendors. Higher earning
vendors pay smaller percentages,
although they still pay more in rent than
vendors earning less. The more a vendor
makes, the more Bayou Secret collects.
No ceiling is placed on this collection.
A single vendor, paying the minimum
rent and a single full-time employee at
the federal minimum wage ($7.25 per
hour), would need to spend $5,600 each
month to cover these basic operating
expenses. This figure doesn’t factor in
the staffing issues related to the market
being open from 9 a.m. to 10 p.m.
Sunday through Wednesday with an
additional hour on Thursday through
Saturday, totalling 96 hours per week.
The above figure of basic expenses also
doesn’t include the cost of product
or any other costs associated with
the running of individual businesses.
Considering the exorbitant overhead,
along with the lengthy business hours,
it is uncertain how this could be a
tenable arrangement for vendors.
Nonetheless, Bayou Secret’s uncapped
earnings facilitated through all sales
occurring via a centralized system
ensure income for St. Roch Market’s
management.
Bayou Secret’s point of sale system
also raises serious questions about
the legality of the sales tax applied to
tax-exempt eligible products at St.
Roch Market. Examples of products
eligible for exemption within the State
of Louisiana include coffee, cookies,
and “potato chips and similar snack
foods.” Last month, I purchased four
unique items from four separate
vendors at St. Roch Market, all of
which were improperly taxed. These
purchases were: a single bag of coffee
beans ($14.95 plus a sales tax of $1.35),
one chocolate chip cookie ($2.75 plus
a sales tax of $0.25), a bag of “Dirty
Chips” potato chips ($1.75 plus a sales
tax of $0.16), and a bag of plantain chips
($2.25 plus a sales tax of $0.20). By law,
these state sales tax-exempt purchases
should have been taxed at 4.5% (in
accordance with the Orleans Parish
sales tax). All of these food items,
considered eligible for state sales tax
exemption, were sold with a tax of 9%.
As every sale occurs through a
centralized system, all the money
brought into St. Roch Market through
purchases goes first to Bayou Secret,
who then disburses funds to vendors.
It is unclear as to why state sales taxexempt food is being taxed or where
the extra 4.5% charged to consumers is
ending up. The uncertainty regarding
this tax, along with an underhanded
rental structure and a potentially
illegal liquor license, raises questions
as to what sort of business is being
conducted in this city-owned property.
Several requests for comment from St.
Roch Market management were either
ignored or denied.
Those curious as to where Bayou Secret
might direct some of their suspiciously
generated revenue need not look far
beyond St. Roch Market’s front door.
The large, blue, two-story building
directly across St. Roch Avenue (at 2401
St. Claude) was purchased for $350,000
by Arcadia Court in November 2014.
This past April, a letter written by Tore
Wallin—the “owner’s architectural
representative”—was distributed to
residents of the St. Roch neighborhood
notifying them “Arcadia Court LLC owns
the building at 2401 St. Claude. We are
planning to renovate the old historic
building and open a restaurant at that
location.” The letter, a required formality
for submitting zoning adjustment
applications with the City Planning
Commision, extended an invitation to
learn about the proposal and present
questions or concerns in early May. The
meeting location was listed as “Front
Porch, St. Rock [sic] Market.”
The obfuscation in this notice is
intentionally misleading. It fails to
disclose that Arcadia Court features
the same members spearheading the
controversial St. Roch Market. Three
people from the community attended the
May meeting. The developers—Arcadia
Court—are reported as being present
in Wallin’s summary. In reference to a
suggestion of two respondents, Wallin
reported, “The developers were generally
supportive of the idea and mentioned
they would reach out to the neighboring
St. Roch Market.”
As previously stated, Bayou Secret
operates St. Roch Market. Arcadia
Court features all four of the Bayou
Secret members as well as Kari Ayala, a
New Orleans based real-estate broker.
The LLC was formed in June 2014
and lists Donaldson as its registered
agent. Perhaps if the residents were
made aware that 2401 St. Claude was
owned by the management of St. Roch
Market, public response regarding
the variance application would have
been stronger. If St. Roch Market were
widely embraced among the residents
of the neighborhood, there would be no
reason for Donaldson and his business
partners to not be more transparent.
A month after St. Roch Market’s
opening, a May 12 application was filed
for a change affecting the zoning of
2401 St. Claude Avenue to “permit the
renovation of a vacant building for use
as a restaurant.” In the Board of Zoning
Adjustments staff report from June 8,
the project description states that the
area around the property has “seen a
recent increase in development” due
in part to “the recent restoration of the
adjacent St. Roch Market.” Further into
the document is a statement echoing
public sentiment of those disappointed
in the finished product: “The St.
Roch Market adjacent to this site was
recently restored and is occupied
mostly by small restaurant businesses
similar to a food court.”
To summarize the busy time period for
Donaldson prior to St. Roch Market’s
April opening: the formation of St.
Roch Forage and St. Roch Libations
(Donaldson’s LLCs) as well as the
acquisition of 2401 St. Claude Avenue
(purchased by Donaldson’s Arcadia
Court)—all occurred within a ten day
period in November. It seems safe to
suggest that the concentrated business
activity documented prior to opening—
along with filing for a zoning variance
a month after the opening to permit a
two-story restaurant across the street—
indicates Donaldson’s anticipated
financial reward from the lease handed
to him by the City of New Orleans three
months prior.
Why Landrieu’s office or the New
Orleans Building Corporation, the
city agency overseeing city- owned
properties, would allow Donaldson to
profit so intensely from a project hailed
as part of New Orleans’ revitalization
process is unclear. Landrieu’s
embrace of New Orleans as “a hub
of entrepreneurship” may provide a
clue. Bayou Secret’s control of St. Roch
Market might signify the most current
brand of cronyism in New Orleans
government, where smooth-talking
techie-types with abstract credentials
are awarded profit-generating toys
built with millions of taxpayer dollars.
St. Roch Market is a classic bait-andswitch business model structured by
Bayou Secret and personally endorsed
by Landrieu, who went as far as to wear
a St. Roch Market t-shirt at Jazz Fest
and give special recognition to the
project in his State of the City address
this past May. If St. Roch Market is,
as Landrieu said, a symbol of New
Orleans’ “rebirth and resilience,” a
sober examination of these terms
is in order. If creating “something
authentic” is predicated upon misuse
of federal funds, concentration of
wealth, and capitalizing off of the
credibility and tireless efforts of service
industry workers, this authenticity isn’t
something to be celebrated.
Walking into St. Roch Market, the
intent of the business is written
into the architecture. The building’s
interior design was overseen by Bayou
Secret. The kiosk-like stalls lining
the building and the lack of adequate
space for retail testify to the failure of
Bayou Secret to commit to serving the
community as a bona fide market. The
egregious planning decisions made by
Bayou Secret have put vendors in the
unfortunate position of being affiliated
with insolent development. Bayou
Secret’s model for St. Roch Market is
supposedly based on incubating small
businesses, specifically restaurants.
However, the inequitable rental
structure gouging the gross sales of
vendors indicates business incubation
is not Bayou Secret’s top priority.
The remiss management of St. Roch
Market has made it evident that Bayou
Secret’s regard for the backbone of New
Orleans—the service industry—is little
to none. Considering that the livelihood
of many New Orleanians is reliant upon
this line of work, St. Roch Market being
held up as an example of the “new New
Orleans’ way” is ominous.
Jules Bentley contributed reporting to
this article.
involved was, Sonia replied, “I love all
the ecstatic moments we’ve had, and
seeing kids be creative. I love seeing
them doing what they love, which is
also what I love to do. I love passing it
on to them.” Sarah echoed the uplifting
sentiment. “I love seeing groups of
girls together getting along,” she said.
“They’re complementing each other,
working together, and saying positive
things to each other.”
photo by Jess Pinkham
THE ULTRA SOUNDS OF
GIRLS ROCK!
NEW ORLEANS
by PAULA ANNE SOCCO ANICETE photos ADRIENNE BATTISTELLA
“GRUNGY CUPCAKE” WAS SOMETHING
EVERYONE COULD RELATE TO, WITH
LYRICS LIKE “ALL I NEED IS THAT ONE
CUPCAKE / THAT CUPCAKE THAT
MAKES MY DAY GREAT.”
One night, Wayne Shorter walked
straight to Miles Davis’ hotel room
and knocked on the door relentlessly
until Miles got up and opened it.
Wayne confessed he couldn’t sleep.
He had to come and see for himself,
in person, the future of jazz. Content
with this short, midnight encounter,
he turned around, retracing the steps
to his bed. It’s an anecdote about
being on the brink of a new era, about
passing the mantle, and finding peace
of mind in one’s successors. At Girls
Rock! summer camp this year, I came
face to face with a future generation
of aspiring musicians. I visited on the
Friday before the camp’s big showcase.
“You came on a perfect day!” Saiya
Miller, one of the volunteer organizers,
told me as she gave me a warm hug and
led me on a tour of the classrooms and
workshops, held this year on NOCCA’s
campus. “We’ve been getting press
visits a lot this week. This is the best
day to be here because you’re the only
one here. You can see everyone as they
get ready for dress rehearsal!”
DRUM AND BASS CLASS
Janke Seltsam (a counselor and
drummer for the local punk band
Swampass) coordinated bass players
and gave a small pep talk to the
drummers. Soon after, the sound of
bottom-end bass tones filled the room.
Percussion followed, synching up to
the rhythm. The campers collaborated
with all the bassists playing one bass
line, then the drummers joined,
playing a drum line in unison. At first
it was andante, or walking speed, then
it picked up, faster and faster—yet
everyone stayed together. The camp
counselors weren’t really teachers,
or leaders in any way, but more like
coaches in the game of music. By the
end of it, the bassists and drummers
were solid. The nervous excitement
I noticed in the girls had vanished,
replaced with pride in their collective
achievement. Everyone was stoked.
They rocked for a while, then discussed.
“Did anyone notice anything that
worked or didn’t work? Did you notice
when the rolls started happening that
it was easy to get off beat a little?”
Janke asked contrustructive questions
as she guided campers through a selfevaluation. Then Sonia Saxon, another
counselor and member of The Flying
A’s and Relax Family Band, presented
an inquiry to the bassists: “Did you
notice how much easier it is with all
these drummers? You have a lot of
support with them.” Afterwards was a
jam sesh. For the last ten minutes, all
formalities were disposed of and the
crew of young musicians freestyled.
Counselors would briefly sit with
campers and play along, then remove
themselves to let the campers do their
own thing. They also tapped sticks and
danced to inspire beat keeping, walking
around to check up on girls and offer
specific suggestions to them. “How do
you feel after jamming?” Sonia asked the
campers. “We’re exhausted!” The girls
exclaimed in semi-unison. Some looked
surprised, others a little tired. Some
looked like they could keep on going.
Later on, I followed the girls down to a
common space where they hung out for
the few minutes before heading to the
next class. One camper, Attica, pleaded
with Saiya, “I want to keep practicing!”
Indeed, she looked very natural on the
drums. She even mastered that look
of ennui while playing and keeping
perfect time. Saiya put her arm around
Attica and smiled. “I feel like it’s a good
instinct to want to practice more, but at
some point you have to just work with
what you’ve got.”
DRESS REHEARSAL
A dress rehearsal for the big showcase
was scheduled for the end of the day.
The girls gathered together in the
common area while Li Yaffe, a founding
member of Girls Rock! Camp in New
Orleans, prepped them for a mock run.
While the roadies carried equipment
to the practice stage, Li led the girls
in some reflection about their camp
experience and gave them some lastminute reminders, such as introducing
themselves when they get on stage, and
projecting their voice into the mic.
COUNSELOR POV
I had a moment between sessions to
talk with two of this year’s counselors,
Sonia and Sarah Brooks (drummer for
Panty Wasted and formerly of Tragic
Girls End Up Like This and Ovary
Action). Sonia was the bass instructor
and band coach for Glo-Wolves, a band
of 11 and 12 year-olds. Sarah was the
guitar instructor. When I asked them
what the most rewarding part of being
The coach’s positive attitudes seemed
to be shared by everyone involved
with GRC. As a professional educator,
I couldn’t help but realize that Sonia
and Sarah were essentially describing
what educators call “the shared
experience.” The shared experience is
an everyday phenomenon that occurs
between people, the realization that
each party affects and is affected by
any given situation. In a classroom, the
teacher affects the student, and vice
versa. In Girls Rock Camp, counselors
and volunteers were prepared to affect
the campers in a positive way, but
were totally surprised by the way the
campers affected them. Over and over
again in conversations with different
people, I heard how unbelievably
proud they were of the girls, expressing
feelings that are probably comparable
to the pride parents feel for their
offspring. Stacy Share, one of the
Girls Rock! organizers, put the camp’s
approach into perspective: “In schools
they’re just so focused on trying to
teach them certain things, and it’s so
frustrating as an educator because you
think, ‘These kids can do so much more
if you could just give them space.’ This
was a great opportunity to be able to
give the kids the tools, and say, ‘Here ya
go.’”
The organizers and camp counselors
were the perfect leaders for this camp
because they are all part of the New
Orleans DIY scene. They live in the
same neighborhoods as the campers
and understand the backgrounds the
girls are coming from. Camp counselors
came in all shapes, sizes, genders, hair
styles, and talents. In addition to the
camp staff, Girls Rock! was helped
out by quite a few businesses, such
as The Joint, Theo’s Pizza, St. Coffee,
and French Truck Coffee (all who
provided catering), as well as assistance
from the New Orleans Musicians
Clinic, RUBARB Community Bike
Shop, the Zeitgeist Center (where
the public showcase was held), and
Webb’s Bywater Music, where the
GRC instruments were tuned up and
repaired. In addition to a grass-roots
funding campaign, the New Orleans
Jazz and Heritage Foundation gave the
camp a grant.
THE TAPE RECORDS
I was in the hallway when all of a
sudden one of the coaches popped
her head out of the room. “Hey, can
someone come in and be the audience
for them? The girls want to practice
The 2015 Girls Rock New Orleans Camp Showcase audience at the Zeitgeist Multi-Disciplinary Arts Center (photo by Adrienne Battistella)
WYLD WOLVES
SAP SORROW
THE TAPE RECORDS
playing in front of other people.” How
could I say no? I went in and saw a
band of 8 and 9 year-olds. Their name
was the Tape Records and they were
the youngest band in the camp. They
played their song and I was amazed.
At first they were scared. Some of the
band members had never played music
before. From the first day of camp, they
started collaborating and writing their
song. Mary Jacobs, a first year Girls
Rock counselor, told me she was mostly
hands off, letting them work their ideas
out, interjecting only to keep the band
focused and on task. They problemsolved on their own and worked out
their own issues. They came up with
a system: if they have a disagreement,
they take a vote. If the vote is split,
they do a coin flip. However, The Tape
Records rarely had disagreements;
they were simply too eager to rock out
together. Earlier in the week, thanks
to the local LGBTQ youth advocacy
group BreakOUT!, the girls had the
chance to have thoughtful dialogue on
gender, personal identity, and human
empowerment. They made “genderbread people” to epitomize how
they view themselves. From this The
Tape Records came up with positive,
empowering lyrics such as, “I can do
anything / I can do anything / I can do
anything / even if I want to scream.”
GLO-WOLVES
I had the pleasure of sitting in on
the Glo-Wolves last practice before
dress rehearsal. Trista (guitarist and
vocalist) was playing so hard she broke
her string. Initially she was bummed,
but drummer and vocalist CC helped
her out by picking up an extra guitar in
the room, plugging it in and handing
it to her. It can be awkward to pick up
a strange guitar and use it like it feels
familiar, but she adjusted quickly and
pummeled through the last precious
minutes of band practice. With a head
full of bouncy curls and standing almost
6 feet tall, it was hard to believe Jahsia (bass and vocals) was only twelve
years old. She had a quiet demeanor,
but was friendly and a bit goofy. Jah-sia
performed like she’d been singing with
a bass on her shoulders since forever.
I tried to think back to what I was
doing when I was twelve. I don’t really
remember, but definitely not anything
as cool as starting an all-girl band with
other experienced musicians!
THE SHOWCASE
The Zeitgeist was the most packed
I’d ever seen it and energy was high.
Later, Li told me the showcase drew
approximately 200 people. The air
was electric with the sound of chatter
and shuffling of people in every
direction (including up! My friend
Bowen was smart and went upstairs to
catch a birdseye view of everything).
All the girls were wearing the shirts
they designed with their band logos
displayed on the front, screenprinted
with help from Rachel Speck of the New
Orleans Community Printshop. A lot
of them had black lipstick and sparkly
makeup. Hair was dyed or crimped in
true rock star fashion. The Showcase
started with the youngest and ended
with the oldest group. The whole show
was seamless: the girls sat together
and knew the order in which they were
going to perform.
First up was The Tape Records. They
kicked off the show with their anthem
“I Can Do Anything,” which started
with everyone repeating “I can do
anything” in a soft, perfect-pitch a
capella, with minimal key, bass, and
guitar hits. The moment Marli, bassist
and lead singer, said, “even if I want to
scream,” Amari busted in with a bass
and snare line that sounded like the
ultrasound heartbeat of the new punk
rock generation. They had upbeat
verses like “Oh baby, I’m feeling crazy
/ Don’t call me lazy / Cuz I’m rocking
out tonight,” going back to the choral
repetition of “I can do anything” and
then ending with “even if I want to….
SCREAM!” which everyone loved.
Next was Sap Sorrow with their song,
“Nightshade.” In their unconventional
composition, everyone got a little solo
time. Attica played the drums hard
and solid. Zoe had a steady bass line
that held everyone together. Peyton
looked so natural on the keys. Alysia
was amazing for singing and playing
guitar without losing the beat. It was
cool to hear Rosaria on the trumpet,
not sounding like part of a ska or brass
band, but in her own rock style.
After them, Wyld Wolves took to
the stage. “The Wolf in Us” had an
infectious pop rock vibe that really
made my head bop. Josie, the bassist,
seemed like she was giving cues that
kept everyone on point. Sydney had
a beautiful smile on her face as she
played the keys; she looked like she was
having a blast. Destiny was a diva on the
drums, and watching Gillian play those
power chords was like watching Joan
Jett before she formed the Runaways.
Wyld Wolves also had parts in which
everyone sang together, which gave it a
sense of unity.
cupcake / that cupcake that makes my
day great.” Grace had a tight, fast drum
fill that reminded me of CC’s from GloWolves, and it matched perfectly with
Nuri’s bass to make a real supportive
rhythm section.
Dynomite Demons were next, with
their song “Under the Overpass.” Their
song was short and sweet, and made
me wonder if they hadn’t played a few
generator shows already. They made
accessories (horns and tails made of
red and black pipe cleaners) and blew
everyone away with their pozzy vibes.
They looked like they’d been friends for
ages. Emma (bass) and Caitlin (drums)
formed a steady rhythm section, while
Sofia was charismatic on guitar and
Nola, the trumpet player, was all the
horn section they needed.
The final band of the Showcase was
the oldest group of girls, Forehead.
Their song, “Girl, Hey Girl,” blew
everyone’s minds. At first, Jaelin’s
guitar and Elexys’ bass were subtle, but
photoa by
Jess Pinkham
soon they swelled into
raging
fireball
of teen angst. When Sage started
shouting, “Destruction is your world!”
everyone jumped up and started
cheering and screaming too. I got
goosebumps watching everyone rock
out to Forehead, because I was raging
the way I did when I saw En Vogue at
the Paragon, and I was surrounded by
people who felt the same!
After Dynomite Demons came GloWolves, featuring Trista on the guitar,
Jah-sia on bass and CC on drums. Their
song was cool because it had a short
rap section in the middle. Trista looked
like a little Lita Ford with her crimped
blond mane and confident command
of the guitar. I loved Jah-sia’s ease at
being the lead singer, while playing
the bass, an instrument she switched
to (originally she was on keys) in the
middle of camp. And everyone loved
CC’s super fast and super loud drum
fills, which reminded me of firecrackers
on the Fourth of July.
That was the magnificent thing
about the Girls Rock Showcase. Not
everyone knew these girls or had heard
their bands before, but everyone in
the audience was having the time of
their lives! Diaper-clad toddlers were
shrieking in glee, in the arms of their
mom or dad (also cheering), next to
tatted-up punks who were banging
their heads to these young bands.
I think the next band, Neon Percussion,
was especially appealing because
their song, “Grungy Cupcake,” was
something everyone could relate to,
with lyrics like “all I need is that one
A Fetish For The Dramatic
Roddy Bottum Talks About the Return of Faith No More
by JENN ATTAWAY photo DUSTIN RABIN illustration DONOVAN FANNON
WE USED TO ONLY KNOW HOW TO
SCREAM OVER THE OTHERS TO BE
HEARD, TO GIVE OUR OPINIONS.
NOW WE’RE ALL BETTER LISTENERS.
Formed in roughly 1981 in San Francisco, Faith No More revolutionized the
alternative music scene in the late ‘80s and throughout most of the ‘90s with their
unique hybrid of funk, metal, and rap. The hit single “Epic” from singer Mike Patton’s
debut album with the band, The Real Thing, seemed to take over the airwaves, posing
the question on the lips of music fans everywhere, “What. is. it???” They dominated
MTV with their outlandish appearances, colorful videos, and wild and unpredictable
live performances. The release of their second album, Angel Dust, brought a slightly
more serious approach, and videos ranging from the dark and dramatic to those of
a tongue-in-cheek sense of humor, began to stream forth. FNM also pretty much
dropped the rap aspect of their sound after that point and began to experiment,
branching out to even jazz, country, and gospel influences. Two more albums, King
for a Day... Fool for Lifetime and Album of the Year, saw myriad lineup changes on
guitar, and with the formation of a slew of side projects, speculation about the fate of
the band would end in 1998 with the announcement of their break-up.
Patton went on to continue playing with his band, Mr. Bungle, then formed Fantomas,
Tomahawk, Peeping Tom, and more, eventually forming his own record label,
Ipecac Recordings. Drummer Mike “Puffy” Bordin played with Ozzy Osbourne.
Billy Gould, the bassist and founding member, joined Brujeria and Jello Biafra and
the Guantanamo School of Medicine, just to name a couple of the many projects
he participated in over the years. Keyboardist and backing vocalist Roddy Bottum
formed Imperial Teen, scored films, and wrote Sasquatch: The Opera, about a
misunderstood sasquatch in love.
After 11 long years, the band finally decided to reunite, bringing back Jon Hudson,
the guitarist from Album of the Year. They embarked upon a lengthy world tour
that lasted on-and-off for three years. Then, after their record contract with Slash
Records ended, the band began to hint at the possibility of writing and recording new
material. In 2014, they finally announced the launch of their own new record label,
Reclamation Recordings (under Patton’s Ipecac label), and the May 2015 release of
their first new album in almost two decades, Sol Invictus. I was able to conduct an
interview with Roddy Bottum while Faith No More was touring Europe.
At some point several years ago,
you compared your experience
with Faith No More to Imperial
Teen, pointing out how wonderful it
was to be calling the shots and not
answering to a team of people while
in IT. So, with that “oppression” out
of the way since FNM reunited as a
DIY band under its own label, has
it opened the door to a long-term
future for the band?
It’s definitely a more appealing place to
be, in control, so to speak, with FNM.
We make more deliberate choices and
have more focus. We get better results.
You’d think that would open the door to
a long-term future but we’re just kinda
keeping it in the moment right now.
That said, the moment is pretty fresh.
How has the newfound freedom
changed the band dynamic,
if at all? Has it impacted the
songwriting process?
Just given the fact that we’ve all
matured some 17 years apart from each
other, we tend to give each other more
space these days. That provides for a
more well-balanced output. We used
to only know how to scream over the
others to be heard, to give our opinions.
Now we’re all better listeners. That’s
changed the songwriting.
went against the grain of all-black rock
look that was prevalent in the realms
that we were associated with. I think
the first time it happened was at a
French festival. We were aware of all
of the “rock” acts and all of their black
attire and skulls, and it made sense
for us to go the other direction and go
bold in white. The flowers suggested a
hippy cult thing that we were keen on
exploring as a visual.
While you guys were continuing
with your other projects and
endeavors, did you find that the
modernization of music (through
technological advances and the
advent of social networking) has
made it easier for the DIY artist to
succeed? Did that epiphany play
into you guys keeping the band
going after that 2009 reunion tour?
The modernization of music doesn’t
have a whole lot to do with what we did
then, now, or in the future. We kind
of rely on a unique brand and style
of music creating. That’s the main
premise of why we continued to stick
together and write music.
I saw a live stream of one of your
concerts, wherein Chuck Mosely
came out and sang a little. Has
that been a regular facet of the live
show, and are there any other guest
after this tour?
We have no agenda at all. We’re
enjoying doing what we’re doing
and what we’re up against. The tour
schedule is doable right now and we’re
just trying to get through it.
In your time off from FNM, there
have been major advancements in
the acceptance of and rights granted
the LGBT community. There was
a lot of confusion over the true
motivation behind the disparaging
remarks people were making over
the picture you posted of yourself
with Rob Halford, and whether they
may have been “gay-bashing” or
At the end of the day, what was it
that brought you back together and
kept you together to move forward
and write and record new music?
I think we needed a break from each
other to make it work. There’s no way
we could have continued to create at
that point when we broke up. A fresh
perspective, so to speak, was what
was needed.
You guys are notorious for
experimenting with sounds,
styles, and content. Has it been
intentional, or is it the natural
course of your collaborations? For
example, has there ever been an
instance where someone decided,
“Hey! Let’s do something in this
vein, or let’s do a song about this?”
Yeah, that’s pretty much how we
work. Someone will see something
or a couple of us will see something
or hear something together and we’ll
brainstorm and cover it or do something
derivative of what we’ve experienced.
One thing we all collectively share is a
fetish for the dramatic.
What’s the deal with the matching
white attire and the floral stage set?
Whose idea was that?
We all kind of came together on that
one. It was a statement that kind of
Do you plan to return to Imperial
Teen when the FNM tour is over? Is
everyone keeping their side projects
going currently?
Imperial Teen are definitely recording
again this year. Will and Lynn are
together in Denver this weekend
working on stuff, actually.
Have you scored any films or TV
shows lately? Is that something you
plan to do again in the future? Do
you have any pending jobs working
on soundtracks?
I haven’t for a while. I’m going to help
my friend, David Macke, score his short
film. Honestly, that process becomes
less and less appealing to me. I love it
when it works and when I get on with
the director and we appreciate each
other’s craft, but for the most part, it’s
not that rewarding. It dawned on me
after my last slew of film scoring that
I owe it to myself to challenge what I
do more. Not just create supplemental
musical afterthoughts for other artists’
visions... but to create stories myself.
It’s what pushed me to do Sasquatch,
The Opera.
How well was Sasquatch: The Opera
received? Do you still have plans
to expand upon it? Can your fans
check it out online anywhere?
Sasquatch, The Opera was a huge
success and a homerun achievement
for me in my world. People loved it
and I’m working to finish the long form
opera and put it up for an extended run
in NYC. From there I’d like to see a sitespecific presentation of it in the forest
in Griffith Park at a theatre where they
do Shakespeare in the Park, and a tour
of like-minded theaters. What was
presented recently will be online soon
via the Experiments in Opera website.
How much did you contribute to
the songwriting on Sol Invictus?
Which of the songs did you write on
this one?
We all kind of added our parts. I
contributed a bulk of songs to the
process but only two made the cut on
the final product, “Rise of the Fall”
and “Motherfucker.” There was a
cool dance one that sounded like Daft
Punk and another rhythmic song with
strings that sounded like “Kashmir”
that I really liked.
What are some of your favorite
tracks off the album, and why?
I like “Matador” ‘cuz it was the first
thing we all worked on, and it’s really
dramatic. I also like “Motherfucker”
because that word is so effective.
created a flat line of drama.
performers you’ve had onstage?
Not really, no. Chuck joined us a
couple of times but that’s about it.
Rahzel, once or twice. We aren’t the
best collaborators.
Anybody you’d like to have come out
with you for a song or two?
Dolly Parton, Lana del Rey, any human
beat boxer is a welcome addition.
Are there ever times when the
struggles of being an independent
band again are not worth it? Does
the thought ever cross your mind
that it would be so easy to have a
corporate record label backing you
up and handling the business end
of things?
Absolutely not. In no way do we miss
corporate record labels’ involvement
in what we do. We work better together
these days because we’re more inclined
to be good with the results.
Since everyone does have
other projects, what do you see
happening to FNM down the line,
not. Other than that incident, have
you found people more supportive
or encouraging this time, or are you
still, in 2015, faced with ignorance
and adversity?
People are constantly surprising with
their support and encouragement.
And that Rob Halford photo incident
got blown out of proportion. There
were some comments that regarded
his “health” or “look” in the photo as
unsavory. It wasn’t necessarily anti-gay
and it’s funny to me that people seemed
to assume that that was the issue. It
wasn’t really. It was just mean-spirited
comments. Just because said photo was
of two gay men, it doesn’t mean that
the talked-about unsavory banter was
homophobic. It was just plain mean
and I didn’t want to put it out there.
That man is a legend. People in general,
though, yes, way more supportive and
encouraging. It’s funny to hear people
kind of nostalgic for a time when
oppression still stung. It was a lot more
dramatically charged, coming out in
the ‘90s. It’s become sort of a non-issue,
which is what we all aim for, but it’s
Do you have any memories or
funny stories to share with us
from the tour?
I don’t tell funny stories well. I’m only
accidentally funny. The other night we
played a big festival as a replacement
for Foo Fighters because Dave Grohl
broke his leg. I said onstage, “I’m having
so much fun. I wish Dave Grohl broke
his leg every day...” It made me chuckle.
Is there anything you’d like to add,
any message you’d like to send to
your New Orleans fanbase?
I love New Orleans, love the Faubourg
Marigny. Used Dogs is a bitchin’ dog
rescue service my best friend, Madalin,
started there in New Orleans after
Katrina. If you’re not already hip to it,
it’s an awesome cause.
You can catch Faith No More on tour
in 2015. For tour dates and more
information, go to fnm.com. For more
info on Sasquatch: The Opera, go to
experimentsinopera.com. For more info
on Used Dogs, visit useddogsrescue.
blogspot.com
THE BRETON SOUND
DON’T BE AFRAID OF ROCK &
ROLL, VOL. 1
(INDEPENDENT)
The latest from the bearded ones
known as The Breton Sound is all
about refining their formidable skills to
present their tightest sound yet, kicking
their latest EP off with “Rivers Cuomo,”
an upbeat, guitar-heavy nod to the
master of emo and the Sound’s Weezer
love. Up next is the band’s strongest
song to date: previously released as
a single and recorded at Memphis’
Ardent Studios, “Illuminate” pulls out
all the stops and makes it clear that the
band is ready for anthemic arena rock.
Past releases by the Sound tend to start
running out of steam at this point, only
to rally for a big finish, but Vol. 1 keeps
up the energy it generates from the
very start, even pulling vocalist Cherie
LeJeune into the touching “Love You
More.” The best part of this set of
tracks is listening to the band genuinely
enjoying themselves. It’s a great joy to
hear Jonathan Pretus and his fellow
bandmates finally, fearlessly coming
into their own. It’s too bad the Sound’s
offerings must still remain short (not
album length), but oh, are they sweet.
—Leigh Checkman
FLESH WORLD
THE WILD ANIMALS IN MY LIFE
(IRON LUNG)
On their second full-length LP, Flesh
World approaches the borderlineorchestral sounds of contemporary
noise-pop at its brightest. The Wild
Animals in My Life ups the ante from
Flesh World’s eponymous, post-punk
influenced debut album (released this
past February), which featured less of
the cleverness and dark treadings of
Joy Division and Public Image Limited
in favor of a wall-of-sound aesthetic
like Lower’s excellent 2014 album Seek
Warmer Climes. Nonetheless, the tradeoff of inspired lyrical erudition for a
richer sonic palette isn’t a problem.
The music is overwhelming enough by
itself: the fuzzed-out vocal incantations
are simply textured noise acting as
an additional instrument and an even
more expressive element to each song.
The band’s richly layered shoegazeinfluenced aesthetic challenges other
modern-day bands’ technique, like
Yuck’s stoner ramblings and Viet
Cong’s boring apocalypse-rock. Flesh
World’s music is quite appealing, and
the ghostly vocals recall past memories
as each track reveals new emotional
richness (from the stimulating opener
“To Lose Me” to the soulful pangs
of the title track). As opposed to the
previous record, Wild Animals feels
fresher and richer, doe-eyed but
experienced, as opposed to pessimistic
and contemptuous. —Joey Laura
FLORENCE AND THE MACHINE
HOW BIG, HOW BLUE, HOW
BEAUTIFUL
(ISLAND)
Thankfully, How Big, How Blue,
How Beautiful signifies a change in
Florence and the Machine’s aesthetic.
Succeeding the faux-baroque Lungs
in 2009 and the mythic notions
and climbing crescendos of 2011’s
Ceremonials, their third album features
a little more artistic playfulness.
The album cover of a black-andwhite Florence Welch coyly posing
prepares the listener for a Stevie
Nicks/Fleetwood Mac influence. The
acoustic ringing, dance-friendly beat,
and personal-but-universal lyrics of
“Ship to Wreck” recall the sorrowful
zest of “Go Your Own Way.” However,
by track four—the still quite dancefriendly “Queen of Peace”—Welch again
sounds like an ice queen singing across
an echo-inducing canyon. Although
it’s terribly inconsistent in tone and
style, How Big is a welcome diversion
for Welch and company. The boring
tracks are particularly hackneyed
to those familiar with Florence and
the Machine’s previous albums, but
the most impressive tracks—the
first three, for sure—are well worth
it. Although the record is mediocre
at best, it showcases an opulence
of musical composition and lyrical
relatability formerly unapproached by
the band, hopefully hinting at future
experimentation. —Joey Laura
GIRLPOOL
BEFORE THE WORLD WAS BIG
(WICHITA)
The bratty duo Girlpool weren’t
particularly promising on their selftitled debut EP (“Blah Blah Blah” might
as well be their obnoxious anthem), and
they’ve only sunk further on their first
LP, the 24-minute long Before the World
Was Big. The opening track “Ideal
World” makes an allusion to the intro
of the Velvet Underground’s “Heroin,”
and it explains exactly what’s wrong
with the entire album: Cleo Tucker
and Harmony Tividad don’t seem to
understand the way that musicians
like Charles Mingus and Brian Eno,
and especially the grossly overlooked
Pere Ubu, have used dissonance or
noise in their works. Rather than use
it as an element to represent a certain
dissatisfaction or as an added texture
to thicken their sound, Girlpool
would rather try to define their style
completely with noise but without the
musical prowess of free-jazz musicians
or electronica auteurs. As if things
couldn’t get any worse, their Moldy
Peaches-inspired lyrics (in effect,
arrested-development phrasings
sung with a childlike voicing) give the
impression of attention-whore antics,
of snotty teenagers thumbing their
noses at any target (whatever it takes
to get noticed). If anything, Before the
World Was Big reveals why the newest
generation of artists is, indeed, a lost
generation. —Joey Laura
HILDEGARD
S/T
(INDEPENDENT)
The debut of Hildegard marks a
strange, yet intriguing new set of
directions for both vocalist Sasha
Masakowski and Christian Scott
Quintet guitarist Cliff Hines.
Masakowski, noted mostly for her jazz
interpretation skills before joining with
Hines, takes on completely different
musical personas under Hildegard’s
“art rock” umbrella that lean close to
vocal stylings resembling Enya, Basia,
Kate Bush, and Swing Out Sister’s
Corrine Drewery. With a talent like
Hines creating the instrumentals,
Hildegard scales some prog rock-esque
heights pretty nicely—“The Witness”
and “Karma” fill that bill well—but
some moments come across as clunky,
such as the jarring instrumental break
in the otherwise charming, elegant
“A To Z.” Though this collaboration
is not a perfect one, the band (named
for a visionary saint) has a lot going
for it, more than enough to make
for fascinating listening. For when
Hildegard is good, it’s chillingly,
beautifully right. —Leigh Checkman
JASON ISBELL
SOMETHING MORE THAN FREE
(SOUTHEASTERN RECORDS)
If you pay any attention to the
Americana and/or alt country scenes,
you probably know about Jason Isbell.
His last record, Southeastern, was met
with mind-blowing critical acclaim.
His story of addiction and redemption
was told far and wide, from the pages
of every alt-weekly in the country
to the dulcet tones of NPR radio.
Formerly a hard-drinking, hard-living
guitarist and songwriter for seminal
Southern rockers Drive-by Truckers,
Isbell parted ways with the band in
2007 and went on to crank out three
solid solo albums, artfully walking
the line between tortured artist and
drunk asshole with great aplomb.
If Southeastern was the album that
showed us Isbell flayed and naked,
then Something More Than Free is
his attempt to firmly move past that.
Sure, there are moments where we
revisit the deep introspection of an
addict reflecting on his checkered
past and subsequent deliverance
(see this line from “How To Forget”:
My past a scary movie I watched and
fell asleep / Now I’m dreaming up
these creatures from the deep). But
overall, this record marks a strong
return to the themes Isbell loves to
explore: life in a one-horse town, the
deep and abiding danger of family and
the poignant beauty of small human
moments. The single “24 Frames”
challenges the listener to take a long
hard look at himself. “Flagship”
stands out as an instant classic and is,
in Isbell’s signature style, threaded
throughout with that lush and vivid
scene-setting he excels so strongly at.
“Palmetto Rose” brings a levity with
its juke joint vibe and “Speed Trap
Town” is the song on this record (and
every one of his records has one) that
makes me simultaneously deeply miss
and yet never want to return to my
little hometown. There are tracks that
take some time to grow, but overall,
this record is another solid offering
from an artist who has become a voice
for grassroots America. Next in the
line of a grand tradition of Southern
storytellers, Isbell shows us the
meaning in the minutia and injects
everyday moments with the gravity and
romanticism they deserve. —Erin Hall
JENNY HVAL
APOCALYPSE GIRL
(SACRED BONES)
Apocalypse Girl, Oslo-based artist
Jenny Hval’s fifth album, can be
compared to the string of disconnected,
slightly unhinged thoughts a person
might find themselves having while
taking a shower. When the mind
is left idling while the body is busy
doing other things, the connecting of
randomly firing cables in the brain
makes for some pretty interesting and
beautifully odd sparks. This is the
world of Apocalypse Girl, a brilliant
lunatic’s musical opus that makes
the best sense when it’s left to run its
course just on the outskirts of your
complete understanding, in the corners
of your subconscious. Over-thinking
Hval’s intentions with this release kills
the fun. Let the album spin and spin
along with it til you fall of an edge and
end up somewhere new. On opening
track, “Kingsize” Hval poses the now
often quoted question: “What is soft
dick rock?” I’d personally prefer not to
know, but if I had to guess I’d say “not
this.” Although quiet and droning, like a
suggestion more-so than a demand for
attention, this album’s lasting power is
its ability to needle into memory and
stay there. Nothing soft about that. —
Kelly McClure
MAGGOT SANDWICH
AMERICAN SUCKER
(KML RECORDS)
I remember seeing Maggot Sandwich
(from Pensacola) at Monaco Bob’s
in the early ‘90s and still consider
their Get off the Stage LP from 1987
to be an American punk rock classic.
Fast forward to the present, original
member Vik Kaos lives in New Orleans
and has reformed the group with two of
the hardest working musicians in town:
Jenn Attaway (Split Lips, Unnaturals)
on bass/vocals and Bill Heintz
(Pallbearers, Dummy Dumpster, The
Bills) on drums [both are regular AG
contributors]. Honestly, moving here
and getting this couple to join his band,
he hit the fuckin’ jackpot as far as I’m
concerned. Not only do they give new
life to the group, but Bill’s artwork on
the cover is simply amazing: political,
satirical, graphic, and hilarious. 9 of the
12 songs on this 10” are recent versions
of “hits” from 1985 to 1987, with three
new songs that still abide by the classic
Maggot Sandwich hardcore formula.
“New Orleans” stands up to the
legendary “My Florida” with lyrics like
“I’m sick of New Orleans / We’ve got
the most corrupt police I’ve ever fuckin’
seen.” With so much great music
coming out of this city recently, this
is definitely the release I anticipated
most this year. And such a powerful, fun
live band to see in action, too. Official
record release show is July 17th at
Siberia during Creepy Fest. They’ll also
be celebrating their 30th anniversary as
a band. Mention this review and receive
a vintage Maggot Sandwich flier from
back in the day with your purchase. To
quote The Simpsons: “If you miss this
show, you better be dead or in jail. And
if you’re in jail, break out!” —Carl Elvers
MUSE
DRONES
(WARNER BROS.)
Muse, as a band, have become
miserablists in the worst way possible
with their most recent album. By
focusing on the negative and then taking
the gravity of its fake sense of alarmism
way too seriously, their newest work
isn’t fun enough to be camp and is too
silly to be worth dissecting with any real
critical attention. (This sickness started
with the first three tracks, of their 2012
record, The 2nd Law, which are named,
“Supremacy,” “Madness,” and “Panic
Station.”) As they cater to the paranoid
liberalist theme of “resistance,” Muse’s
flaccid attempt to agitate the public
results in a lifeless thesis on political
jingoism. “Drill Sergeant” and “Psycho”
tap into one-dimensional caricatures
that were stale when Marilyn Manson
attempted to exploit them with “The
Beautiful People” and “Disposable
Teens.” At least when Muse’s
contemporary Placebo performs “The
Bitter End” on 2003’s Sleeping With
Ghosts, they aren’t relishing in the pain:
They work past the cynicism by dealing
with and scrutinizing the emotions of
“every broken bone” on “this winter’s
day.” Muse seems delighted just because
they’ve acknowledged that there is
havoc, and they want only to cause more
romanticized chaos. —Joey Laura
for moleskine journals. I’m glad they
have “market penetration similar to
that of many signed artists,” and I hope
that one day their “marketability can
rival that of major label acts.” Hey,
thanks for the analysis but bands
I like never let me know that they
are generally concerned about how
many flips the singer needs to cut in a
music video to grab the apprehensive
acrobatic market or what eyeliner to eye
ratio tested better. Symbols will sit in its
entirety on my hard drive skimmed over
and neglected. I am not in Secondborn’s
direct demographic, but had they
remembered that the possibility of an
appreciative audience existed, I would
have given an unbiased listen and come
to an opinion on their sound, not their
quarterly report. The music cannot
speak for itself if the band never shuts
the fuck up. —Anton Falcone
SECONDBORN
SYMBOLS
(SELF-RELEASED)
Post-Hardcore is a signifier that
immediately detonates warning flares.
Describing your band as being posthardcore in 2015 is often a sleight-ofhand. It’s a little bit of trickery, like
flash paper: it gets attention, but you
soon realize there is no blaze and no
scorched remains. There was never any
danger, no EMT standing by, not even
a half-empty can of Sugar Free Redbull
at the ready to extinguish a possible
wristband fire. At the very least there
needs to be a blister, there should be
some damage, be it collateral, intended,
or self-inflicted. The music needs to
make a mark. The press release that
accompanied Symbols straight up loses
the illusion of being remotely related to
anything hardcore or even genuine by
stating that “Secondborn have always
been committed to a professional,
highly marketable sound.” As Symbols
made its way onto my non-partitioned
hard drive, I decide to investigate the
band’s website. Surely, this band has
no interest in the correspondence sent
on their behalf by management. I am
reading the suit’s description of the
band, the behind-the-scenes fodder.
“Post hardcore visionaries” care not for
the business, but dwell on the sound and
the loyal fans. Shocking, but apparently
not always true. This brooding sextet
made of people from bands “that almost
made it” has a bio page on their website
that is littered with statements of
calculated measures to make it in the
biz. Not touring or doing live shows to
perfect your sound is one thing but to
do it because your “focus is on honing
songs and production to the point
where they could market themselves
effectively” tells me that there is little
interest in hearing a fanbase go from
rumble to roar because of your original,
unmistakeable sound. Secondborn
seem more eager to be the soundtrack
behind the marketing that might help
sell rebellion reminder apps, HumDrum-Rum or custom GoPro mounts
LOVE & MERCY
DIR. BILL POHLAD
(ROADSIDE ATTRACTIONS)
The fatal mistake behind Bill Pohlad’s
Love & Mercy involves the chosen main
character: Brian Wilson’s psychosis
rather than the musician himself. Just
like the art-house mess I’m Not There
(also co-written by Oren Moverman
and produced by Pohlad), the focus on
an abstraction rather than an actual
character prevents the audience
from being able to empathize with, or
even root for, a concrete protagonist.
The only ray of hope comes from the
scenes in which the younger Wilson
(Paul Dano) directs session musicians
to create the layered textures of Pet
Sounds, arguably the Beach Boys’
greatest achievement. Although these
scenes are a bit goofy in the way they
are filmed like 8mm home movies,
Dano and the other actors manage to
capture that “lightning in a bottle”
aspect of the creative process. But even
Dano’s heartfelt impression of Wilson
goes sour: When psychedelic drugs take
over Wilson’s mental well-being, Dano’s
performance goes from sensitive to
cartoonish, as Wilson’s erratic druginfluenced behavior channels Dano’s
irritating performance as Eli Sunday
from There Will Be Blood. The movie
does not explore “the life, love, and
genius of Brian Wilson,” as the poster
suggests: Pohlad concentrates entirely
too much on glorifying the torture of
genius. —Joey Laura
insensibly staccato as “Frankly, Mr.
Shankly”?). Yet Morrissey still crooned
his way through every song. And the
lyrics were so damn miserable.
Within the last few years, I heard
a story that famed DJ John Peel
supposedly claimed Morrissey was
the only person who could make him
laugh, which challenged everything I
assumed about the singer. Because of
this, I started listening to the Smiths
again and even began paying attention
to Morrissey’s solo work. And then I
got it: Morrissey’s lyrics are just that
tongue-in-cheek. How can someone not
start laughing when hearing someone
crooning, “Oh mother, I can feel the soil
falling over my head/See, the sea wants
to take me/The knife wants to slit me/
Do you think you can help me?”
In addition, Morrissey’s lyrics reveal
a complex understanding of human
nature. He has so much to say about the
off-handed approach of homophobia
(“The Death of a Disco Dancer”), how
people are blind to their own demises
(the aforementioned “I Know It’s
Over”), the tragedy of both sides of
young love (“Girl Afraid”), and the
breeding nature of young crime (“Sweet
and Tender Hooligans”). I no longer
considered Morrissey a sappy singer
who was wrapped up in himself. In fact,
he is more concerned with other people
and, especially, the Other.
This Charming Man
Morrissey at the Saenger Theater
by JOEY LAURA photos ADRIENNE BATTISTELLA
MORRISSEY STILL MANAGES
TO FIND A CREDIBLE REASON
TO GET PISSED OFF EVERY
COUPLE OF YEARS. THIS IS
WHAT KEEPS HIM RELEVANT.
Getting Morrissey is an initiation in
its own right. Given that it’s rare to
hear his songs on the radio (whether
from his solo career or from his work
with The Smiths), it’s easy to attempt
to peg his music on a single-surface
listening. Rockers don’t think he’s
heavy enough, despite the crunch
of Viva Hate’s “Alsatian Cousin” or
Your Arsenal’s “Glamorous Glue.”
Supposed pop fanatics think he’s too
morose, even though he pens some of
the funniest, most eloquent insults
since William Shakespeare. And
everyone thinks his lyrics are a joke.
But the irony is, they are.
An ex-girlfriend introduced me to The
Smiths while I was an undergraduate
in college. At the time, the band’s style
made no sense to me. The music ranged
from heavy to silly (how does a band
transition from something as edgy
as “The Queen is Dead” to a song as
This extreme empathy reveals a history
to the richness of his writing. Morrissey,
along with guitarist Johnny Marr,
formed the Smiths in 1982. The band
only put out four studio albums during
their tenure (they broke up four years
later), but their cult following exceeded
their initial output. As of 2011, The
Smiths have ten compilation albums
to their name, full of singles, B-sides,
and greatest hits. Similarly prolific,
Morrissey released his eleventh studio
album, World Peace Is None Of Your
Business, in July of last year.
Even if most punk bands have burnt
out and refuse to get angry anymore,
Morrissey still manages to find a
credible reason to get pissed off every
couple of years. This is what keeps
him relevant from album to album.
Even though he has ranged from the
sociopolitical (his debut solo record
Viva Hate featured the same anxieties of
class and family issues as earlier Smiths’
songs) to the purely political (his 2014
album features songs titled “I’m Not A
Man,” “Earth is the Loneliest Planet,”
and “The Bullfighter Dies”), Morrissey
continues to sing about things that
make people tick today.
But how could all this prepare someone
for Morrissey in concert? Set lists
from his brief tour last year (many of
those dates cancelled due to his cancer
diagnosis) and clips from previous tours
on YouTube, gave me a few ideas. He
didn’t seem to play a lot of songs from
the Smiths’ catalogue (on average, about
three songs at a given venue), and he
rarely played “favorites,” challenging
the audience with deep cuts. In other
words, don’t be surprised if he plays a
random song from Swords, his 2009
singles and B-sides collection, instead of
“The Last of the Famous International
Playboys” or “You Have Killed Me,” two
of his highest-charting singles.
As the show began, Morrissey was
the first to walk onstage, before any
of the supporting musicians. After
everyone took their places at their
instruments and the audience was
done cheering, Morrissey greeted the
crowd: “Ladies, gentlemen, monsieurs,
mademoiselles!” This charming
entrance launched into a performance
of “Suedehead,” easily one of the most
popular songs from his solo catalogue,
to an enamored, screaming crowd.
There was instantly a sense of unity
in the air: I don’t know for sure, but it
seemed as if everyone in the audience
knew the song, and it seemed as if
everyone was thrilled and excited to be
at the concert for the same reasons.
Two songs later, he followed up
with “Ganglord,” a song about
police brutality and abuse of power,
from Swords. Accompanying the
performance was a resonant montage
of security footage and phone-cam
shots of guards and police beating up
on prisoners and civilians alike. At
first, the juxtaposition of this song
and these particular videos might
seem like a preachy charade, but the
footage connected to the song on a very
emotive level. The violent clips only
perpetuated the industrial percussion
and rising crescendo of the intertwined
keyboard and guitar chords. This
moment wasn’t about a rabblerousing
message, per se, but about an audience
experiencing pure emotion during a
live music performance (which, to be
honest, is rare).
Later, Morrissey paired up the proanimal—and anti-human, depending
on how cynical the listener is—“The
Bullfighter Dies” and “I’m Not a Man,”
both from his newest record. He
continued to play pairs of songs from
World Peace Is None Of Your Business
while alternating with deep cuts
from his other albums (he included a
pleasant edition of “Speedway” from
Vauxhall and I and a delicate take on
“I’m Throwing My Arms Around Paris”
off of Years of Refusal). Although the
arrangements were more interesting
and enjoyable than the album versions
on World Peace, there was a certain edge
missing from the audience’s fulfillment.
To a degree, this was all a part of
Morrissey’s emotional tracking of the
audience as he primed a strong group of
songs towards the end of his set.
After another pair of songs from his
newest album, he played the You Are
the Quarry favorite “The World is Full
of Crashing Bores,” which surprised his
über-fans and pleased everyone who
hadn’t even heard it before, including
myself. From here, the performance
became increasingly overwhelming for
various reasons.
Eventually, he finally played a Smiths’
song, “Stop Me If You Think You’ve
Heard This One Before,” which excited
an audience that feared he might not
play a song from his previous band’s
catalogue. This surprise performance
led to the second-biggest rousing of the
evening as he followed with “Everyday
cont’d on pg. 37
Friday: 7/3
Checkpoint Charlie: Vincent Marini,
4pm; Texas Pete, 7pm; The Green
Mantles + GSR, 11pm
Circle Bar: Amy LaVere, 10pm
d.b.a.: The Hot Club of New Orleans,
6pm; The Cynics w/ Lonely Lonely
Knights, 10pm ($10)
Gasa Gasa: Stereo Fire Empire +
sunrise:sunset + Space Metal, 10pm
($6.00)
Hi-Ho: Radius + Tank and the Bangas
+ RC and the Gritz, 10pm
House of Blues: Hot Out The Pot
Shrimp Boil, 4pm; Gypsy Elise and
The Royal Blues, 5pm; Jet Lounge
Presented By Curren$y & Friends:
Festival Edition, 10pm ($10); CODE
Dance Party: Celebrate the Fest,
10pm
Howlin’ Wolf: Hazy Ray plus Modern
Language plus Brian Hyken & The
Wanderlust and Burris, 9pm
Maison: Emily Estrella, 4pm; The
Roamin’ Jasmine, 7pm; Musical
Expression + Fat Ballerina, 10pm
Siberia: PSYCH OUT Happy Hour:
DJs Suzy Q and Nommo, 6pm;
Giorgio Murderer, Gino and the
Goons, Aquarian Blood, No Bails,
Trampoline Team (PELICAN POW
WOW 2), 9:30pm ($8)
Tipitina’s: Foundation Free Fridays
Presented by Fidelity Featuring
Walter “Wolfman” Washington + The
Business, 10pm
Saturday: 7/4
Checkpoint Charlie: Yamomenem,
4pm; Johnny Angel, 7pm; The Rotten
Cores, 11pm
Circle Bar: The Man Named Bones,
10pm
d.b.a.: Meschiya Lake & The Little Big
Horns, 6pm
Gasa Gasa: 4th of July Pig Roast with
PYMP + Lucas Wylie + erlbot, 3pm
($5.00)
Hi-Ho: Close Me Out, 7pm; DJ Soul
Sister presents HUSTLE, 11pm
House of Blues: Lance Gross & Kid
Capri Damn that DJ Made My Day
Party w/ Kid & Play, 2pm ($27); Ron
Williams Trio, 5pm; Black Hollywood
Explosion Party w/ Omari Hardwick,
Tank, & Avant, 10pm ($32); CODE
Dance Party: Celebrate the Fest,
10pm
Maison: Chance Bushman and
Friends, 1pm; Nyce, 4pm; Smoking
Time Jazz Club, 7pm; Ashton Hines
and the Big Easy Brawlers + Street
Legends Brass Band, 10pm
Siberia: Bar and Kitchen open
at 7PM!! Happy July 4th!, 4pm;
DESTRUCTION UNIT, Gary Wrong
Group, Sick Thoughts, Die Rotzz,
FIRST! (PELICAN POW WOW 2),
9:30pm ($10)
Spellcaster: Cherry Pits / Heavy Lids
/ Liquor & Lies, 3pm
Tipitina’s: DJ Lo Down Loretta
Brown a/k/a Erykah Badu plus DJ
RQAWAY, 10:30pm
Sunday: 7/5
d.b.a.: The Palmetto Bug Stompers,
6pm
Gasa Gasa: Blind Texas Marlin +
Cousin Clyde + Druids, 9pm ($7.00)
Hi-Ho: NOLA Comedy Hour hosted
by The New Movement, 8pm; Writers
Block, 10pm
House of Blues: Music Festival Black
Hollywood Finale Party hosted by
Nelly & Friends, 9pm ($32)
Maison: Luneta Jazz Band, 4pm;
Melanie Gardner, 7pm; Corporate
America, 10pm
Siberia: THE COOL DOWN w/
DJ Lady Li & DJ Dress Up, 6pm;
Julie Odell, Luke Spurr Allen,
LadyBabyMiss, Shane Sayers, 10pm
Tipitina’s: Sunday Youth Music
Workshop Featuring Funk Monkey,
1pm
Monday: 7/6
d.b.a.: Colin Lake Duo, 7pm; Glen
David Andrews, 10pm ($5)
Gasa Gasa: INSTANT OPUS feat Carl
LeBlanc + Johnny Vidacovich + Nick
Benoit, Martin Krusche, 10pm
Howlin’ Wolf: Love, Write, Light:
Live, 7pm
Maison: Chicken & Waffles, 5pm;
Aurora Nealand & the Royal Roses,
7pm; Musical Expression, 10pm
One Eyed Jacks: Jacco Gardner with
EZTV plus Dinner, 9pm ($12)
Tuesday: 7/7
Checkpoint Charlie: Jamie Lynn
Vessels, 7pm; Hickory Dickory +
Ghandi Castle, 11pm
Circle Bar: The Black Watch with
Rudy Stone plus Papa Watzke, 10pm
Gasa Gasa: The Bowery Presents:
Memory Tapes + Computer Magic +
School Dance, 9pm ($8.00)
Hi-Ho: Da Truth Brass Band, 10pm
Maison: The Organettes, 4pm;
Gregory Agid Quartet, 6:30pm; Bon
Bon Vivant, 9:30pm
Siberia: Tuesday Trivia with Tallulah
and Bob, 7pm; Flower Girl, Milk Dick,
Hello Ocho, DANNY, 10pm ($6)
Wednesday: 7/8
Checkpoint Charlie: T Bone Stone &
the Happy Monsters, 7pm; One Tail
Three, 11pm
Circle Bar: Forlorn Strangers with
Stuart McNair, 10pm
d.b.a.: The Tin Men, 7pm; Walter
“Wolfman” Washington & The
Roadmasters, 10pm ($5)
Gasa Gasa: Lushes, Liquor and Lies,
SS Boombox, 9pm ($5.00)
Hi-Ho: Teacher Appreciation
Night, 6pm; Dead Marshes + The
Its + Dominique LeJeune + Patrick
Shuttleswerth Wants to Make You
Deaf, 9pm
House of Blues: Heart of the House:
Jake Landry, 6pm
Howlin’ Wolf: In The Den: Summer
Jazz Series feat Trevarri and
UrbanCellist, 8:30pm
Maison: Messy Cookers, 4pm; The
Jazz Vipers, 6:30pm; James Jordan
and the Beautiful Band, 9:30pm
Siberia: Fungi Girls, Los Cripis,
Birthstone, DJ Gris Gris, 10pm ($6)
Checkpoint Charlie: Garret
Thornton, 7pm; Zipolite Beach
Billies, 11pm
d.b.a.: Jon Cleary, 7pm; Mason
Ruffner, 10pm ($5)
Gasa Gasa: The Bowery presents The
Secret Sisters + Craig Paddock, 8pm
($15.00)
House of Blues: Shadows of Steam,
6pm; Nathan’s Italian Night, 6pm
Maison: Jon Roniger, 4pm; Shotgun
Jazz Band, 7pm; Dysfunktional Bone,
10pm
Siberia: Esther Rose, Max Bien-Kahn,
Liza Cane, 6pm; Headcrusher, Ten
Foot Beast, Severer, Solid Giant,
10pm ($7)
Road, 11pm ($5.00)
Hi-Ho: Stokeswood + Teenager, 10pm
Shrimp Boil, 4pm; Todd Smith Band,
5pm; Chris Knight plus Aubrie
Sellers, 8pm ($15); Unplugged
Summers, 9pm; Crescent City
Jumpoff, 10pm ($22)
Howlin’ Wolf: Krewe Du Vieux’s
Midsummer Party, 7pm; In The Den:
The Building Bridges Tour... featuring
Cesar Comanche, Ghost Dog, Samson,
AK1, Ryan Lee and Rodo hosted by
Slangston Hughes, 10pm
Maison: The Messy Cookers, 4pm;
The Roamin’ Jasmine, 7pm; Fat
Ballerina + Ashton Hines and the Big
Easy Brawlers, 10pm
Siberia: Greg Schatz and The Friggin
Geniuses CD Release Party, Kiyoko
McCrae, 10pm ($10)
Sisters in Christ (in Gasa Gasa):
Ars Phoenix / Start Select / Secret
Passage, 7pm
George Porter, Jr. & The Runnin’
Pardners + Mia Borders, 10pm
Friday: 7/10
Saturday: 7/11
Checkpoint Charlie: No Pressure
Bouzouki, 4pm; Brother Stone & the
Prophets of Blue, 7pm; Isla Nola,
11pm
Circle Bar: Laugh in the Dark, 10pm
d.b.a.: Smokin’ Time Jazz Club, 6pm;
Khris Royal & Dark Matter, 10pm
($10)
Gasa Gasa: Royal T + The Painted
Hands + Melville Deweys + Morrison
Checkpoint Charlie: The Olivia
DeHavilland Mosquitoes, 4pm;
Kenny Triche Band, 7pm; Jerk
Officers, 11pm
Circle Bar: Vanzza Rokken with Haity
Lamb, 10pm
d.b.a.: John Boutte’, 8pm ($10); Hot
8 Brass Band Benny Pete Birthday
Bash!, 11pm ($10)
Gasa Gasa: Mickey Factz + Alfred
Thursday: 7/9
Banks + DJ Strategy + Marcel P Black
+ Pluto, 10pm ($7.00)
Hey Cafe: New Lands / Blare /
Velouria / The Gradients, 8pm
Hi-Ho: Highly Illegal, 8pm
House of Blues: Ruby and the Rouges,
5pm; NEW ORLEANS MOST
WANTED (NOMW), 9:30pm ($10);
Foundation Room Outing & DJ
Jermaine Quiz, 10pm
Howlin’ Wolf: In the Den:
ALIENWOLF, 10pm
Friends, 1pm; Cajun Fais Do Do, 4pm;
Smoking Time Jazz Club, 7pm; The
Essentials + The Business, 10pm
Republic: Bassik feat. Kill the Noise,
9pm
Siberia: Alex McMurray Happy Hour,
6pm; Round Eye, Mr. Clit and the
Pink Cigarettes, Pariah, Planchettes,
DJ Miss Mass Destruction, 10pm ($7)
Sunday: 7/12
6pm; Strange Roux, 10pm ($5)
Howlin’ Wolf: Morgan Heritage,
9:30pm; In The Den: The Grammy
Nominated Hot 8 Brass Band, 10pm
Maison: New Orleans Swinging
Gypsies, 4pm; Leah Rucker, 7pm; One
Love Brass Band, 10pm
Siberia: Dick Diver, Guts Club, Sexy
Dex & The Fresh, DJ Prince of Ponies,
10pm ($7)
Monday: 7/13
Circle Bar: Skelatin with Sprawling
plus R&R & REM, 10pm
Gasa Gasa: INSTANT OPUS feat
Stephanie Nilles, Elmo Price, Georgi
Petrov & Dave Capello, 10pm
Howlin’ Wolf: In The Den: The Noise
Complaints plus The Azalea Project
and Melville Dewys, 8pm
7pm
Tuesday: 7/14
Vessels, 7pm; The Moguls, 11pm
Circle Bar: Beatzlevox, 10pm
Civic Theatre: Rob Bell, 8:30pm
House of Blues: Karma Night: Love,
Write, Light, 5:30pm; Tuesday
Tasting Menu, 6pm
Maison: Too Darn Hot, 4pm; Gregory
Agid Quartet, 6:30pm; Roamin’
Jasmine, 9:30pm
and Bob, 7pm
Wednesday: 7/15
Checkpoint Charlie: T Bone Stone
& the Happy Monsters, 7pm; Reese
Sullivan, 11pm
Circle Bar: We Leave at Midnight,
10pm
d.b.a.: Washboard Chaz Blues Trio,
7pm; Walter “Wolfman” Washington
& The Roadmasters, 10pm ($5)
House of Blues: Membership 101
Class, 7pm
Jazz Series feat Twelve Mile Limit
and UrbanCellist, 8:30pm
Maison: The Jazz Vipers, 6:30pm
One Eyed Jacks: An Evening with
Death Grips (SOLD OUT), 9pm ($25)
Siberia: Sword & Backpack: Siberia
Game Night, 6pm; Arabrot, Ghold,
Pinkish Black, Blood Blog, 10pm ($8)
Sunrot / Space Cadaver / Solid Giant,
7pm
Thursday: 7/16
Banks St. Bar: Creepy Fest 2015
Kickoff Party feat. Headwoundz /
Dummy Dumpster / Split () Lips /
Tuff Luvs / Medically Separated /
FEA / Liqour & Lies / Boy Sprouts,
8pm
Checkpoint Charlie: Good Children,
7pm; Damn Frontier, 11pm
Circle Bar: May Queen with Agori
Tribe, 10pm
d.b.a.: Jon Cleary, 7pm; Little Freddie
King, 10pm ($10)
House of Blues: Tales of the Cocktail
Presents - Bourbon Thru Bluegrass,
8pm ($51)
Howlin’ Wolf: IN THE DEN:
COMEDY GUMBEAUX FREE
SHOW!, 8:30pm; Young Dolph, 10pm
Maison: Jon Roniger, 4pm;
Moonshine and Caroline, 7pm; Rue
Fiya, 10pm
Siberia: The Gaslight Girls present
“Please Don’t Fee the Performers”
with Emma and the Watts, 6pm
Sisters in Christ (in Gasa Gasa): Burnt
Books / Ossacrux / The World is a
Vampire, 7pm
Tipitina’s: Homegrown Night Concert
Series , 8:30pm
Friday: 7/17
Checkpoint Charlie: Bjorn Jacobson,
4pm; Willy Locket & the Blues Krewe,
7pm; Joey B Wilson & the Hoplites,
11pm
Circle Bar: Marathons & Unicorns
(feat. Eric Nichelson of Midlake) with
The Hoppers, 10pm
d.b.a.: The Hot Club of New Orleans,
6pm; New Breed Brass Band, 10pm
($10)
Gasa Gasa: Bowery Presents: The
Lonely Biscuits + Jessica Hernandez
& the Deltas + Sol Cat, 10pm ($8.00)
Hi-Ho: WCP presents Hunter Seigel,
9pm
House of Blues: Lounge and Dining
Open, 6pm; Cracking Up Nola,
7:30pm ($12); Bustout Burlesque,
7:30pm ($22); Unplugged Summers,
9pm; Bustout Burlesque, 10pm ($22)
Howlin’ Wolf: In the Den: Druids
plus The Fifth Men and Next Level
Midriff, 10pm; PJ Morton plus Dee-1,
10pm
Maison: New Orleans Swinging
Gypsies, 4pm; Shotgun Jazz Band,
7pm; Soul Project + Ashton Hines and
the Big Easy Brawlers, 10pm
One Eyed Jacks: Soul Sister and Disko
Obscura present the SUMMER OF
FUNk Jam with Dam-Funk (Stones
Throw | Funkmosphere | special DJ
set from Los Angeles’ “Ambassador
of Boogie Funk”) plus DJ Soul Sister’s
Right On 80s Party with the Booty
Patrol Dancers, 10pm ($15)
Prytania Theatre: French Film
Festival
Siberia: PSYCH OUT Happy Hour:
DJs Suzy Q and Nommo, 6pm
Quarterbacks / Dogbreth / Donovan
Wolfington, 2pm
Spitfire: Creepy Fest Happy Hour
feat. Special Victims Unit / Glut /
AR15 / Spit, 6pm
Presented by Fidelity Featuring Papa
Mali + Mike Dillon Band, 10pm
Saturday: 7/18
Checkpoint Charlie: The Pallbearers
+ Krigblast + Classhole & More, 7pm
Circle Bar: Summer Salt with Fpoon
plus The Quintessential Octopus,
10pm
d.b.a.: John Boutte’, 8pm ($10);
George Porter Jr. & His Runnin’
Pardners, 11pm ($10)
Dragon’s Den: Creepy Fest Day 3
feat. Swingin’ Dicks / Jethro Skull /
Before I Hang / Donkey Puncher /
Stellatone, 9:30pm
Gasa Gasa: The Nadis Warriors +
PYMP, 10pm ($8.00)
Hi-Ho: Drunk Toons, 8pm; DJ Soul
Sister presents HUSTLE, 11pm
House of Blues: Kehlani - You Should
Be Here Tour With Special Guest Pell,
8pm ($18); NEW ORLEANS MOST
WANTED (NOMW), 9:30pm ($10)
Howlin’ Wolf: In The Den: E.N Young
of Tribal Seeds, 9pm
Friends, 1pm; Leah Rucker, 4pm;
Smoking Time Jazz Club, 7pm;
Musical Expression + Street Legends
Brass Band, 10pm
One Eyed Jacks: Morning 40
Federation, 9pm ($10 advance / $12 at
the door)
Rare Form: Creepy Fest Day 3 feat.
Black Cat Attack / The Anti-Queens /
The Unnaturals / Ese / Killer Hearts /
11 Blade, 8pm
Siberia: BAD OYSTER BAND, 6pm
Emasculator / Panty Wasted, 7pm
Sunday: 7/19
Circle Bar: Brother/ Ghost with
Woozy plus Fairest, 10pm
Gasa Gasa: Late Night with Simple
Sound Retreat, 10pm ($5.00)
Hi-Ho: Mind Gone Tour featuring
Mike G and Left Brain of Odd Future
+ Bizarre of D-12, 9pm
House of Blues: Sample - Grooves
That Inspired Hip Hop, 6pm;
Requiem featuring Raj Smoove, 10pm
Maison: Nyce, 4pm; Too Darn Hot,
7pm
One Eyed Jacks: PowerPuffs Shake
Their Stuff: A Burlesque Play on
Words & Nerds, 9pm ($15)
Prytania Bar: Creey Fest Close-Out
Party feat. Disappointed Parents / Die
Rotzz / Bent Gents / Daddy Issues /
The Bills / Dem Nasty Habits, 10pm
Siberia: The Golden Ours featuring
Kia Cavallaro, Anna Padernik, 6pm
Creepy Fest show feat. Fat Stupid
Ugly People / Bloodfuckers /
Criminal Slang / Naked Intruder /
We All Suck (WAS) / Old Lady Who
Swallowed a Fly / Death Church,
2pm-9pm
Tipitina’s: Tipitina’s Foundation
Presents Sunday Youth Music
Workshops Featuring Johnny V Trio,
1pm
Monday: 7/20
Circle Bar: David Ellis Group, 10pm
Gasa Gasa: INSTANT OPUS feat Dave
Anderson, Jason Marsalis, Terence
Higgins & Clarence Johnson, 10pm
Howlin’ Wolf: Love, Write, Light:
Live, 7pm
7pm; Musical Expression, 7pm
Tuesday: 7/21
Vessels, 7pm; Johnny Morgan Band,
11pm
Maison: Noah Young, 4pm; Gregory
Agid Quartet, 6:30pm; Bon Bon
Vivant, 9:30pm
One Eyed Jacks: Milo Greene plus
Luxley, 8pm ($12)
and Bob, 7pm; OPEN FIELDS,
Sealion, Party Static, Hello Nomad,
10pm ($7)
Wednesday: 7/22
the Happy Monsters, 7pm; Trading
Moments, 11pm
Gasa Gasa: Foe Destroyer + Sexy Dex
& the Fresh, 10:30pm ($8.00)
Palmyra, 6pm
Jazz Series feat Captain Green and
Noruz, 8:30pm
Maison: Dinosaurchestra, 4pm; The
Jazz Vipers, 6:30pm; James Jordan
and the Beautiful Band, 9:30pm
Siberia: Mistress Kali’s Cabinet of
Curiosities, 6pm
Mountain Holler / Lovey Dovies /
Treadles, 7pm
Thursday: 7/23
Checkpoint Charlie: Kenny
Claiborne, 7pm; Jig the Alien, 11pm
d.b.a.: Egg Yolk Jubilee, 10pm ($5)
Gasa Gasa: SimplePlay presents
Weeed + Gallyknappers, 10:30pm
($7.00)
Hi-Ho: TRIVIA THURSDAYS, 7pm;
Cirque D’liscious, 9pm
House of Blues: Nathan’s Italian
Night, 6pm; BERNER, 7pm ($16)
Howlin’ Wolf: IN THE DEN:
COMEDY GUMBEAUX FREE
SHOW!, 8:30pm; State Property
Reunion feat. Beanie Sigel, Freeway,
Young Gunz, and more, 10pm; State
Property Reunion feat. Beanie Sigel,
Freeway, Young Gunz, and more,
10pm
The Maison: Jon Roniger,
4pm; Shotgun Jazz Band, 7pm;
Dysfunktional Bone, 10pm
Sisters in Christ (in Gasa Gasa): False
/ Barghest / Mehanet, 7pm
Friday: 7/24
Checkpoint Charlie: No Pressure
Bouzouki, 4pm; Woodenhead, 7pm;
Texas Pete, 11pm
Circle Bar: Clockwork Elvis, 10pm
d.b.a.: Smokin’ Time Jazz Club, 6pm;
Pine Leaf Boys, 10pm ($10)
Hi-Ho: AF the Naysayer, 9pm
Shrimp Boil, 4pm; Cary Hudson, 5pm;
Dustin Kensrue plus The Rocketboys
plus Merriment, 8pm ($12); Jack
Daniels Tennessee Honey & BET
present Honey Jam with K. Michelle,
8pm ($45); Encore At Foundation
Room, 10pm
Messy Cookers, 7pm; Dysfunktional
Bone + Jesse Smith Project, 10pm
Saturn Bar: Sharks’ Teeth /
SomeBody Parts / Tare, 9pm
Sisters in Christ (in Gasa Gasa): Ice
Hockey / Davega Bike / Glassing /
Gristnam, 7pm
Naughty Professor and Mississippi
Rail Company, 10pm
Saturday: 7/25
Checkpoint Charlie: Merel & Tony,
4pm; Mystery Loves, 7pm
Circle Bar: Sam Vicari, 10pm
d.b.a.: John Boutte’, 8pm ($10); Little
Freddie King, 11pm ($10)
Gasa Gasa: Pony Farm + The Noise
Complaints + Guts Club + Gandhi
Castle, 10pm ($8.00)
Hi-Ho: The Rip Off Show, 7pm
House of Blues: The William Credo
Agency Presents: The 2015 Beatles
Festival, 8pm ($22); Bad Girls of
Burlesque, 8pm ($20); Encore At
Foundation Room, 10pm
Howlin’ Wolf: Benjy Davis, 10pm
Friends, 1pm; Moonshine and
Caroline, 4pm; Smoking Time Jazz
Club, 7pm; Ashton Hines and the Big
Easy Brawlers + Musical Expression,
10pm
Siberia: Meschiya Lake, Ryan Scully,
6pm
Tipitina’s: Shamarr Allen’s Birthday
Bash and Cultural Ambassador Tour
Welcome Home Party! , 10pm
Sunday: 7/26
6pm; Funk Monkey, 10pm ($5)
House of Blues: The It Takes Guts
Tour - Superjoint feat. Philip
H.Anselmo, 6:30pm ($22)
Maison: La Isla Nola, 4pm; Brad
Walker, 7pm; Soul Project, 10pm
Publiq House: Sasheer Zamata, 7pm
Siberia: Lynn Drury Band, 6pm;
Electric Citizen, Mondo Drag, Slow
Season, TBA, 10pm ($8)
Sisters in Christ (in Gasa Gasa): The
Cloth / Thou / Baby Boy, 7pm
Monday: 7/27
d.b.a.: Glen David Andrews, 10pm ($5)
Gasa Gasa: Good Graeff + Hestina,
9pm ($8.00)
Siberia: Have Gun Will Travel,
Garrett Klahn (Texas Is The Reason),
TBA - EARLY SHOW!!!, 6pm ($7)
The Maison: Chicken & Waffles, 5pm;
7pm; The Business, 10pm
Tuesday: 7/28
Vessels, 7pm; DD Blues Band, 11pm
Civic Theatre: KMFDM w/ Chant,
8:30pm
Gasa Gasa: PROGRESSION MUSIC
SERIES feat The Cut + Slangston
Hughes w/ Fo on the Flo, 10pm
Maison: Luneta Jazz Band, 4pm;
Gregory Agid Quartet, 6:30pm;
Chance Bushman and Friends,
9:30pm
Siberia: GEEK TRIVIA, 7pm;
PSYCROPTIC, Arkaik, Ovid’s
Withering, The Kennedy Veil, 9:30pm
($12)
Primitive Man / Gatecreeper /
Christworm, 7pm
Wednesday: 7/29
the Happy Monsters, 7pm
Circle Bar: Sunshine Nights with Easy
Friend, 10pm
Marc Maceira, 6pm; Dirty Heads plus
Los Rakas, 7pm ($27)
Jazz Series feat Trevarri and Twelve
Mile Limit, 8:30pm
Jazz Vipers, 6:30pm
Siberia: Sword & Backpack: Siberia
Game Night, 6pm
Human Bodies / Gasmiasma / Witch
Burial, 7pm
Tipitina’s: SABOTAGE: New Orleans
Beasties Tribute Feat Members of
Flow Tribe, Gravity A, Matt Zarba,
Jermaine Quiz and James Martin,
9pm
Thursday: 7/30
Checkpoint Charlie: Yamomenem,
7pm; Kenny Claiborne, 11pm
Circle Bar: Lesionread with Isidro,
10pm
d.b.a.: Jon Cleary, 7pm
Gasa Gasa: The Bowery presents Emi
Sunshine + Gabrielle Evelina, 7pm
($10.00)
Hi-Ho: TRIVIA THURSDAYS, 7pm;
Simple Sound Retreat, 9pm
House of Blues: The Devil Wears
Prada with Whitechapel plus Thy Art
is Murder, 6pm ($20)
Siberia: JEFF THE BROTHERHOOD,
TBA, 10pm ($10)
The Maison: Jon Roniger, 4pm;
Dapper Dandies, 7pm; Rue Fiya,
10pm
Tipitina’s: The Revivalists CD Release
Party, 10pm
Friday: 7/31
Circle Bar: Bent Knee, 10pm
Gasa Gasa: The Bowery Presents:
Rocky Votolato & Dave Hause with
special guest Chris Farren, 8pm
($10.00)
Checkpoint Charlie: Sunshine, 4pm;
30 x 90 Blues Women, 7pm
d.b.a.: Meschiya Lake & The Little Big
Horns, 6pm; Chubby Carrier, 10pm
($10)
Gasa Gasa: What Moon Things +
Grotto Girl, 10pm ($8.00)
House of Blues: As Cities Burn
-”SILYAYD” Ten Year Anniversary
Tour, 4:30pm ($20); Red Hot NOLA
feat Cupid + Dance Party Express + T
Ray the Violinist, 8pm ($16)
Maison: Melanie Gardner, 4pm;
Kristina Morales, 7pm; Jesse Smith
Project + Street Legends Brass Band,
10pm
Siberia: Hondo Beyondo: Classic
Country with DJs Robin Rubbermaid
and Matty, 6pm
Swampgrease, 10pm
Saturday: 8/1
House of Blues: Billsberry Flowboy
with DJ Chopslee and AK-1 and DJ
DIzzi, 8pm ($12)
Maison: Smoking Time Jazz Club,
7pm; Jesse Smith Project + Street
Legends Brass Band, 10pm
One Eyed Jacks: Marriages with
Creepoid, 9pm ($10)
Sunday: 8/2
Howlin’ Wolf: LIVE IN THE DEN:
Comedy Beast
Maple Leaf: Rebirth Brass Band
Preservation Hall: The Preservation
Hall-Stars featuring Shannon Powell
The Saint: Tikioke, 9pm, FREE
Siberia: Trivia Night, 8pm
Spotted Cat: Andy Forest, 4pm;
Meschiya Lake & the Little Big Horns,
6pm; Aurora & the Royal Roses, 10pm
WEDNESDAYS
WEEKLY EVENTS
MONDAYS
Allways Lounge: Redbeans & Rupaul
Mondays, 7pm
Banks St. Bar: South Jones & Free Red
Beans & Rice, 9pm
d.b.a.: Glen David Andrews, 10pm, $5
Dragon’s Den: Service Industry Nights
with DJ Pr_ck
Hi-Ho Lounge: Blue Grass Pickin’
Party, 8pm
Spotted Cat: Sarah McCoy, 4pm;
Dominick Grillo and the Frenchmen
St. All-Stars, 6pm; Kristina Morales &
the Bayou Shufflers, 10pm [1st & 3rd
Mondays]/The Jazz Vipers, 10pm [2nd,
4th & 5th Mondays]
TUESDAYS
Banks St. Bar: NOLA County, 8pm
Carrollton Station: Acoustic Open Mic,
9pm
Café Negril: John Lisi and Delta Funk,
7pm
d.b.a.: Treme Brass Band, 9pm, $5
Dragon’s Den: Punk Night
Gasa Gasa: The Progression Series, 9pm
Allways Lounge: Bustin’ Out (A Music
Series), 10pm
Banks St. Bar: Major Bacon & Free
BLTs, 10pm
Carrollton Station: Standup Comedy
Open Mic, 9pm
d.b.a.: Tin Men, 7pm; Walter “Wolfman”
Washington & The Roadmasters, 10pm
($5)
Dragon’s Den: DJ T-Roy Presents:
Dancehall Classics, 10pm, $5
Hi Ho: Teacher Appreciation Night,
6pm
House of Blues: Jet Lounge, 11pm
THURSDAYS
Allways Lounge: Bingo! w/ Vinsantos,
6pm
Dragon’s Den: Adventures of the
Interstellar Bboyz: Ghetto Funk,
Breaks, Bass, Hip Hop, Funk and more,
10pm
Howlin’ Wolf: Comedy Gumbeaux, 8pm
(Live in the Den)
Maple Leaf: Johnny V. Trio & Special
Guests
One Eyed Jacks: Fast Times ’80s Dance
Night, 10pm
is Like Sunday” allows us to relish
in each other’s shared joy, pain, and
haunted memories.
This necessarily led to what people
after the show agreed was the
“bummer” of the night. While playing
videos from halal- and kosher-certified
slaughterhouses, the band played
the sludgiest version of The Smiths’
“Meat is Murder” that I’ve ever heard.
Morrissey’s yearning of “A death for
no reason/And death for no reason is
murder” was never so heartbreaking
as attendees averted their eyes and
sobbed during the graphic slaughtering
screening. It was easily one of the most
riveting, if not disturbing, moments of
the night.
He ended the set with the warm and
sincere “Now My Heart is Full” from
Vauxhall and I, which pleased everyone
after the animal-cruelty atrocity they
had just witnessed. But as he and his
musicians walked offstage, anyone
who read up on Morrissey’s previous
Australia/New Zealand tour realized
that he had regularly performed “Now
My Heart is Full” as an encore. So what
song could he bring back to the stage
at the Saenger and the kickoff of his
United States 2015 tour?
cont’d from pg. 31
is Like Sunday” from his debut album
Viva Hate. Most people in the audience
sang the song in unison as the crowd
stood arm-in-arm and danced in place.
And as the house lights came on for
just a moment so that everyone in
the audience could see each other,
we all remembered why we were at a
Morrissey show. A song like “Everyday
After Morrissey offered a silly nod to
post-concert malaise (he joked, “Do
you remember where you parked the
car?”), the drummer started a wild,
almost primal drumbeat. The audience
felt it in their bones. He chose the
most punk-rock, most political song
FRIDAYS
La Nuit Comedy Theater: Open Mic
Stand-Up , 10:30pm
SATURDAYS
Hi Ho: DJ Soul Sister presents
HUSTLE, 11pm
La Nuit Comedy Theater:
ComedySportz, 8pm
Playhouse NOLA: The Magna Carta
Comedy Show, 8:30pm
SUNDAYS
Allways Lounge: Swingin’ Sundays
(Free Dance Lessons, 8pm; Live Band
9pm-12am)
Checkpoint Charlie: Acoustic Open Mic
Night w/ Jim Smith, 8pm
Dragon’s Den: Church: Dubstep for the
Masses, 10pm (Upstairs)
Hi Ho: NOLA Comedy Hour hosted by
The New Movement, 8pm
House of Blues: The Sunday Gospel
Brunch, 10am
Howlin’ Wolf: Brass Band Sundays with
Hot 8 Brass Band, 10pm (in the Den)
Maple Leaf: Joe Krown Trio
Tipitina’s: Cajun Fais do do featuring
Bruce Daigrepont, 5:30pm
that The Smiths and Morrissey have
every released: “The Queen is Dead,”
a celebration of an idealized end to
monarchy.
Morrissey even went as far as to change
a line to say, “I’m not sorry, but [the
Queen’s death] sounds like a wonderful
thing,” but it didn’t change anyone’s
memory of the song and its place in
their lives. Whether people sat in their
seats and nodded, clapped in unison to
the drumbeat, or danced as if the music
was gospel, we all remembered why we
fell in love with Morrissey in the first
place. What makes his performance
so special is that the experience is
different and therefore, that much
more personal for each person.
And that’s around the time I realized
that understanding Morrissey takes an
additional induction ceremony: One
has to experience joy and pain in their
absolute states (in effect, one has to
pass through Heaven and Hell) to see
from his point of view. Over the past few
years (since I first heard The Smiths in
college), I’ve gotten married, become
a dad, become a homeowner, gotten
divorced (and therefore, became a single
dad), started and ended grad school,
and adjusted back to a single-income
household in a one-bedroom apartment.
And then I started to understand
Morrissey a bit better. Life is
unforgiving. And in this crazy, cockeyed world, thank God we have him on
our side.
To counter declining attendance rates and profits, major U.S. theme parks are
exploring a more economical approach to the design of new attractions this summer.
Inspired by Hollywood and beyond, park engineers are busy developing innovative
ride concepts to minimize expense while maximizing fun!
SIX FLAGS
Mad Max: Ride the Fury Road™
To simulate the experience of George Miller’s gas-guzzling desert dystopia, each
rider is dressed in ill-fitting bondage gear, strapped into a child’s Big Wheel© and
dropped into heavy rush-hour traffic.
Six Flags: California Water Adventure™
Due to imposed drought restrictions, Six Flags Magic Mountain in Valencia is
unveiling the world’s first dry water park. Guests can scoot their way down a dry
water slide, mill about in the waterless wave pool, or sit in a sun-baked innertube until the skin on their legs and lower back is seared clean off. Fun for the
whole family!
UNIVERSAL STUDIOS
Fifty Shades of Basic™
Universal Orlando is no stranger to corporate sponsorship of its attractions, but
the Fifty Shades adventure will expand the concept of masochistic capitalism far
beyond the realms of comfort, safety, and good taste. Riders will be clamped into
a St. Andrew’s Cross, flogged with a Burberry scarf, barraged with unnecessarily
abbreviated adjectives, and doused in boxed cupcake wine until the burdens of
critical thought and individual self have been replaced by a more unsophisticated
penchant for all things Kardashian and Pumpkin Spice.
Furious 7: Siiiiick, Bro™
In an experience audiences are calling “exactly like the movie,” riders sit helplessly
between their failed-to-launch man-child cousins Chad and Travis who provide
a play-by-play account of the Fast and Furious final chapter, complete with car
sound vocalizations and a liberal peppering of street racing jargon that will turn on
the sickest NOS in your mind, brah. Don’t miss the ride’s emotional finale: squirm
uncomfortably while C-man and the Trav punch chests and tough-cry their way
through Paul Walker’s final on-screen moments.
CEDAR POINT
Interstellar: A Ride A Ride A Riiide™
In a rebranding of previous True Detective and car commercial-themed rides,
Interstellar riders are confined in a vehicle with Matthew McConaughey while he
waxes existential until the rest of the world is a vacuum. Sponsored by Lincoln™
American Griper: Open Carry™
Strap on your highest caliber Freedom™ and come to the in-park Chick-fil-A for a
good meal and a good old fashioned complaining. Discuss the finer points of 2nd
Amendment rights, bemoan the inevitable collapse of Western society thanks to
socialist welfare, and suggestively accentuate the president’s middle name, all
while eating yourself into a diabetic coma. Not recommended for commie libruhls
or for’ners.
Taken: Money™ Concessions
You won’t believe your family has been taken yet again by Cedar Point’s certain
set of skills in child-focused marketing, as you shell out another $20 for two
commemorative mugs of watered-down fountain soda.

the future superstars of St. Roch Round 2 Bonnaroo Faith No More

Transcription

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