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Volume XVII. Issue IV. Spring 2006.
EDITOR IN CHIEF
scott e. carver
PUBLISHER
haley a. lovett
ART DIRECTOR
evan m. meister
COVER ART
evan m. meister
ASSOCIATE EDITORS
jon itkin
rebecca mckillip
jordan meister
eric weilbacher
CONTRIBUTORS
amanda burhop
kyle carnes
korey schultz
kristin mcculloch
cori stoddard
chris ten eyck
keith ten eyck
kevin uehlein
BOARD OF DIRECTORS
jennifer hill
ryan bornheimer
raechel m. sims
brian a. boone
arah aichinger-mangerson
robert k. elder
autumn madrano
sam parks
mike russell
cliff pfenning
Publisher’s Note
Dear Oregon Voice Believers,
I’ve decided to dedicate this issue to all of the dreamers out there. The Oregon Voice bids you dreamers to keep dreaming. By this I mean we both those who are actually in a state of deep sleep to keep
dreaming, and those with wild ambitions to keep following them, take this as you may. In any case, the
Oregon Voice, in this season of springtime and hope and love, has featured a few of those dreamers
who have made thier dreams come true, like the little dog Prudence, the pup of Sean Mediaclast, (p.
08) owner of the Museum of Unfine Art, he’s not just a sleeper, he’s also a dreamer. Or Alexa Weinstein, a volunteer for the Rock and Roll Camp for Girls in Portland, she dreams of helping girls gain
confidence to create their own music (p. 10). And our ASUO Bored Game (p. 12) is dedicated to those
with the dream of taking over the University Student Government and then the world.
But here at the Oregon Voice we don’t just write about dreams, we dream about our dreams. And
sometimes our dreams come true.
One example is our dream of finally getting an office computer so that we could better serve all of the
people in Oregon Voice land. After all the laughter and tears, this dream finally came true and it’s better than we ever could have imagined. Now we can compute nearly everything, from words to photos,
our computer can even do numbers (good bye bean sticks). Come by the office and see us some time,
we might even let you look at it.
Our dream of meeting noteworthy OV alumni also came true. Mike Russell, creator of the Hairless
Kat comics from classic issues of the OV and inspiration for the cat graphics at the end of the stories
in current issues, met Scott and I about a month ago to pass on wisdom and even draw a few of the
Hairless Kats. We also met former editor Rob Elder while he was promoting his new book, John Woo:
Interviews. If you want more info on either of these guys you can check out their websites. Russell at
www.culturepulp.com and Elder at www.robelder.com.
Another dream came true this issue, a dream nearly seven months in the making. What started as a
passing fit of whimsy for Scott Carver soon turned into a near obsession. Scott became consumed with
the idea of building a giant wall made of the cardboard boxes in which the OV is delivered. Over the
past many months, Scott has been collecting these boxes, hoarding them, if you will, in our basement
office, the numbers grew, and a few days ago he realized that he had just the right number to build this
wall of cardboard. And then, as easy as if it had been written in the stars, the wall was erected, and
Scott’s dream of jumping through this wall came true.
So enjoy this issue dreamers, because it is all for you.
After this issue, we ask that you stop dreaming and get a job.
MAILING ADDRESS
Oregon Voice Magazine
1228 Erb Memorial Union,
Suite 4, Eugene OR, 97403-1228
Haley Lovett
CONTACT
[email protected]
www.oregonvoice.com
The Editor - 503-871-4120
MEETING
Monday 6:15 pm
EMU Century Room F
volume XVII
issue IV
Official Stuff
OREGON VOICE is published seven times per academic year, approximately twice per term. Correspondence and advertising business can be directed to 1228 ERB Memorial Union, Suite 4, Eugene
OR, 97403-1228 or to [email protected]. Copyright 2006, all rights reserved by OREGON VOICE
and respective authors. Reproduction without permission is prohibited. OREGON VOICE is a general
interest magazine that expresses issues and ideas that affect the quality of life at the University and
in the University community. The program, founded in 1989 and re-established in 2001, provides an
opportunity for students to gain valuable experience in all phases of magazine publishing. Administration of the program is handled entirely by students. If you’d like to help out with the magazine we are
always looking for writers, photographers, artists and schemers. Contributor positions are available on
a volunteer basis to UO students. Email [email protected].
Letters
to the Oregon Voice
Yes, we check our mailbag but once a year....
Dear Fascists:
You all clearly need a lesson in a proper Maoist cultural critique. For starters,
nothing you say directly or indirectly assuages my personal desire for all media
to subvert the dominant paradigm of US imperialism and hegemony. Your
humor laden themes are of a theoretically infantile and materialistic bourgeois
standard, calling attention to a need for all of you to read Mao’s little Red Book
as a resource for gaining a conscious even of the activity of publishing media
that you find yourselves engaged in. Begin with Maoist movie reviews and then
begin to critique everything else in this manner.
In solidarity, François Q.
Maoist media collective purging vanguard steering committee
Dearest Commie François Q.,
Comrade if you will, you really need to get off the horse. By that I don’t
mean heroin, but bureaucracy. Don’t go cold turkey-otherwise you’ll realize
how little individual cognitive function you have left. Ease off of it, one committee every two weeks. And every evening you want to peruse that Red
and Black bookshelf of yours, tend more towards Emma Goldman or Peter Kropotkin, and avoid by all means necessary
Lenin’s State and Revolution or What is to be Done? I
hope this advice will get you on the road to recovery-Scotch also helps.
Best, Eric Weilbacher, Associate Editor.
To the Editors of Oregon Voice
You fuckin’ communists! I oughta tear youg a new
one, you America hatin’ fuckwads! Every time I pick
up one a these communist rags I choke and throw-up
all over my red white and blue color-coordinated three
piece suite! I gotta look good for my job, but your
inflammatory horseshit fucked that up for me! Hope
you rot in hell!!!!
Jesus saves,
Kenneth Knight, president, Glory University.
Dearest Kenneth,
You got some real nerve, fella. I think if a game
of mental fisticuffs is needed to remedy your belligerence, then so it be. Meet the staff in whatever
Century room we end up in the Erb Memorial Union,
any given Monday, at 18:15, and prepare yourself
for an Oregon Voice staff debate/roughhousing jamboree. You get bare knuckles and we get morning stars and LAPD-trained
Komodo Dragons. The Oregon Voice loves a fair fight.
Best, Eric Weilbacher, Associate Editor.
Dear Editor,
As a last resort, I am submitting a letter to your subpar publication because
my words are too prophetic for any “distinguished” or “scholarly” journal. I am
writing to address the recent “societal problem” that is “identity theft,” because
it is completely preventable by any individual. I feel the only “solution” to avoid
identity theft is to become a person so “undesireable” that no one would want
to take over your life. Live in “debt” by stretching credit limits, wear flourescent
nylon when running errands, consume Maalox like it is water, “backcomb” your
hair to the point of static electricity, but be sure not to imitate Donald Trump’s
combover because it will present an image of wealth. That is all.
Sincerely, The person you wish you were
Dear Wishful Thinking,
We appreciate and share your concern over identity theft. However,
we feel at this time you should be more concerned with your over
use of quotation marks. Don’t worry about the Oregon Voice stealing your identity, we’re too busy trying to take over the identities of
child celebrities MacCaulay Culkin and Corey Feldman.
Thanks, Haley Lovett, Publisher
Dear Oregon Voice,
I’ve been following your 41 step to get rich quick guide
from issue 2, starting with creating a financial empire by
promoting the celebration of LSD Synthesizing Day
on April 7. I’ve made over 40,000 dollars in the last
few weeks and have included a catalog of celebratory items in case the Oregon Voice wants to get
on board this cruise ship of holiday fun.
Your Loyal Fan, Leonard Hamilton
PS. Would you like to purchase any artwork
made by my flying squirrel?
Dear Leonard,
We loved the squirrel artwork. While the
Oregon Voice is not yet an official financial consultant, we’re more than happy to
give pro bono advice to any who need it,
just send any questions and a stamped,
self addressed envelope to:
Oregon Voice Magazine
1228 ERB Memorial Union, Suite 4
Eugene, OR 97403
Cheers, Haley Lovett, Publisher
Dear OV,
You dumb S.O.B.s really take yourselves way too seriously. For starters, what’s with the Asshole of the Month bit?
You’re the assholes! And what’s with the hatred of reality TV? I
love it
to death, and it ain’t gonna make me any stupider! Personally, I hate
the whole angle of your rag—what’s with all this crap y’all write about anyway?
Why can’t you write about more sports?
Sincerely, Reginald Arbuckle, concerned Eugene resident
Dear Mr. Arbuckle,
We couldn’t agree with you more, in fact, if you are looking for work
we’d love you invite you to write for the OV.
Thanks, Haley Lovett, publisher
LETTERS • 03
We Know What You Want
Tired of making difficult decisions?
You’re probably tired of routinely flavorless TV. But rest assured, the Oregon
Voice is working hard to fight the depressing monotony of channel surfing.
Our suggestion, turn to some of the now-cancelled TV shows of our past.
If you like:
David Cross, Bob Odenkirk, Jack Black, Taints, Tom Goes to the Mayor,
Counter culture, Fake British People, Mentally handicapped goats, Jesus,
Tool, Rainbows, Drugs, Satan, Third Wheels, Legends of any sort, Boy’s
Clubs, Omnipotence, Monty Python, Gay metal bands, Aliens, The phrase
“pit pat”, Satirical racism, Dancing, Cross dressing, Imagineering, Major
Corporations, Blowing up the moon, Becoming a sovreign nation, Getting
arrested, The delete key, that joke about the farmer’s daughter, spontaneous
musical numbers, Ronnie Dobbs, The Bag Hutch, Medical Marijuana, Titanica,
Paul Tomkins, Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat (on Broadway or
otherwise), Laughing so hard you literally shit your pants.
You Will Also Like:
Mr. Show - a counter culture sketch
comedy show once hidden from the
average television viewer by a poor
timeslot and a cable channel. take a trip
to your local video store and rent any of
the four seasons of Mr. Show.
But if:
You enjoy long walks on the beach, you have bad hair days, you
find yourself socially well adjusted, you are going to grad school “just
for fun,” you feel embarrassed when your grandmother talks about
the sexual enlightenment of the early 90’s,you routeinely choose
to simply ignore the burning sensation you feel when you urinate,
“campaigning” sounds like a good idea to you, Dance Dance
Revolution, Goldfish, Post-it Notes, Soduko, Unicycles, button
fly jeans, Sea Monkeys, The Beatles, The colors “brick” or
“salmon,” you have a car or girlfriend, own a house, go to work
regularly, or any combination of the above.
You Will Probably like:
Father of the Pride - That NBC show from 2004 starring a pride of lions in Las
Vegas. So bad that the network didn’t even air the entire first season.
By Korey Schultz & Haley Lovett.
Asshole of the Month
MiniMart Signs
With ever-increasing urbanization and suburbanization of our, well, our nation,
it’s time to address a problem that has been facing our neighborhoods and our
country. With more small convenience stores cropping up everywhere there
has to be some stopping the ridiculous signage that accompanies them. With
names like EZ Mart, Quik’n Go and Jif E Stop, these verbal and aesthetic
identities are an affront to good reason and seemingly, even the most basic
design. Aside from the strictly corporate (7-11, AM-PM) the typical, independent
minimart sign consists of something that looks like “Word Art” from Microsoft
Word and simple geometric shapes shoddily arranged - often with a beer or
cigarette logo displayed prominantly. Perhaps this style, coupled with the
shortened, snappy name translates into a perception of saved time, via saved
letters, I suppose. Perhaps these signs are even symbolic of America as a
whole and indicative of a cultural void whereby, somewhere along the way, the
full words just weren’t paying for themselves anymore. Scott Carver.
04 • MINUTIA
Flying Solo
The best and worst solos of all time.
No subject could be harder than determining what is, in fact, the best solo of
all time, and equally difficult what is the worst solo of all time. Sure, anyone
can think of a few, but then, in the typical manner of any self-respecting music
geek who has ever scoffed at such a list in Rolling Stone ore Spin. The quest
becomes perilous.
First there is the eureka moment of whatever comes to mind, let’s say Jimi Hendrix
at Woodstock and his interpretive Star Spangled Banner. The greatest solo of all
time, right? But then think of the rest of his Woodstock performance, such as his
solo on Red House? Soon, other live albums of his come to mind, and every cut
has a badass solo, such as the Band of Gypsies Live at the Fillmore. Then some
of his other albums come to mind, and you realize, though Hendrix is a formidable
start in your quest to find the best solo of all time, others come to mind; Duane
Allman, John Coltrane, Willie Nelson, Louis Armstrong, Wayne Shorter, Bradley
Nowell, Dimebag Darrell, and the list could expand so much further. And what
about the worst solo of all time? Jimi Page on Stairway to Heaven comes to mind.
Then Van Halen, Metallica, Gene Krupa, Kenny G,
various North American and European hair bands,
and things begin to digress in the worst manner. It
is next to impossible to determine any true best or
worst solo, but, for the sake of argument, I will stick my
neck out and name them.
Best solo of all time: Eric Dolphy on Spiritual, John Coltrane, Live at
the Village Vanguard. This is a bit of a curve ball, because it isn’t a guitar
solo, but a glorious and definitely-not cheesy bass clarinet solo. Dolphy
presents the most positive, optimistic and elative solo possible within a
laid back, mellow context over the top of this otherwise sullen tune.
Worst solo of all time: Eddie Van Halen on Hot for Teacher, Van
Halen. This one was a no brainer. Not only is the song complete
garbage, but also the solo epitomizes a talented guitar virtuoso that has
no artistic sensibility. All he can do is shred around the neck as if each finger
were free-basing Borax and speed, with no real purpose other than to give
David Lee Roth some ample opportunity to jump around like a pansy.
Eric Weilbacher.
This Duality Thing
Can’t we all just get along?
Having recently been warned of being a Libran bipolar by a University doctor, I
thought it would be fitting to list some of the other dualities that are circulating in
the world. Here are some things that contradict the edicts of college discourse,
the dialogue that we are taught to believe as the method to attain a more equal
union. In the spirit of individuality blended with open-mindedness, we are taught
to learn both sides to any given issue, and truly listen to those we oppose from
our deepest convictions. So why is it that, in any arena outside of the classroom,
a balanced appreciation for both sides of any given noun is completely rejected
in favor of the pulsing competition that arises from similar differences. For
example, Skiers versus snowboarders - both sports consist of puffily-clad folks
whisking down a huge, white frostee. Neither win a prize. Both are expensive.
Then there is the Chacos versus Birkenstocks situation. They are both
comfortable - and practical. Both look terrible when worn with white socks. Cable
versus satellite doesn’t really matter because either way you will see “Desperate
Housewives,” unless the golf championship overruns its allotted time and they
have to cancel the show. Polyphonic versus Standard Ring Tones - both are
equally embarrassing when they go off in the middle of a quiz, so why not select
silent and be done with it? And then there is rollerbladers versus skates - both
are disregarded and mocked by nearly everyone. Kristen McCulloch.
Slow Motion
PHOTOS BY KEITH TEN EYCK • 05
My Baseball Hat
Where I grew up, everybody wore baseball hats. Starting in fourth
grade, what I wore on my head formed a huge portion of my identity.
Everybody who mattered wore No Fear T-shirts bearing catchy,
intimidating phrases like “second place is the first loser.” I wore them
too. More importantly, I wore a No Fear baseball hat. By Jon Itkin.
Illustration by Evan Meister.
The hat had a maroon crown and a sandy-brown
bill, with a matching brown No Fear logo. As was
customary, I tore out the webbing underneath the
front portion of the hat with the can-opener tool
of my Swiss Army knife and curved the bill into a
natural “U.” The hat was indelibly mine, contoured
to my tastes, scented by my sweat and shampoo.
It got wet and dried many times, shrinking the cotton fiber to a perfect mold of my head. It was my
hat. Any other hat looked stupid on me.
Around my freshman year of high school, No Fear
fell out of favor with the cool kids. I grew into midteenage anti-authoritarianism and began to detest
the idea of paying a lot of money to advertise for
clothing companies. I took the same can-opener
tool and pulled the stitches of the logo out of my
hat. But the hat had faded into a grayishbrown, and the material exposed was
virgin maroon. So I bought a Beastie
Boys patch from a downtown head
shop and sewed it over the lettering.
My No Fear hat was no more.
Now I had a truly unique
head covering. I
wore that hat
through all
seasons
(adding
a fleece
headband in winter),
through classes, outdoor concerts, hikes
and Frisbee games. I applied to college in that
hat. I fell in love, too.
Jennie, my girlfriend, was two years younger than
me. She was a junior in high school in Rochester
when I left for the University of Pittsburgh. We
decided to stay together and visit each other as
much as we could.
The trip from Pittsburgh to Rochester takes about
ten hours on a Greyhound and soomewhere south
of Buffalo you have to change busses. On one trip,
I left my first bus more groggy and soupy-minded
from travel than usual.
06 • MINUTIA
I was about to board my second bus when I
realized something was wrong. I didn’t have my
hat. I had left it on the seat in the other bus. I
hurried over to my former bus and found it locked
and deserted. Sick with stress and a first lover’s
concern, I boarded the bus to Rochester, to Jennie,
and left my hat behind.
A year and a half later, I decided to leave Pittsburgh for good. I had intended to relocate to Twisp,
Washington, a tiny town in the sun-baked North
Cascades valley. Jennie had moved there to live
with her father. She and I were going to move in to
a tiny one-bedroom apartment. A few days before
I planned to leave, Jennie called me and told me
not to come. A month later, I called her and heard
a guy singing and playing guitar on her answering machine, only now it was her and Andrew’s
answering machine.
So instead of going to
Washington, my good
friend Mike and I
took a road trip
from Pennsylvania to the great
Northwest.
Our final
destination
was to be my
new home
and a place I
had never been:
Portland, Oregon.
I saw Jennie everywhere on my
journey west. In the stark naked beauty
of the Badlands, in the glory of the Big Sky
country, in the shadows of the giant pines that
encroached upon the highway.
Once we hit Montana, Mike and I decided to take a
few days off and do some fishing. I got a flat on a
Sunday near Bozeman, so we figured we’d spend
the night at a nearby lake and get the tire fixed the
next day. But first we needed a frying pan. On our
way through town we saw a sign for a garage sale.
I turned off the main road onto a side street. At the
end of a cul de sac, a few tables of stuff stood in
front of an open garage. We found a suitable frying pan easily, and continued browsing through the
nick-nacks. Mike found an old Waylon Jennings
record. I found a navy blue and brown No Fear hat
for fifty cents, almost identical to the one I had lost
long before.
Corporate has-beens
It must be the late nights that drive advertisers to do what they do. Delirious from lack of sleep, brains
humming from the consumption of far too much caffeine, starved for creative ways of forcing ideas of want
and need onto a population completely jaded by their previous marketing campaigns, it is at this point that
the “greatest” of ideas can be born. Some dude for Dell, that old man for Six Flags, a duck that quacks
about insurance. Surely these ideas don’t come from well-rested, properly-fed individuals, so it is no surprise
that for every gimmick or character that becomes a long-lived success, there are a few that meet untimely
deaths, or at least fall out of the limelight. By Haley Lovett. Illustrations by Kristen McCulloch.
Search an internet site like TVacres.com or Wikipedia.org and you will find
hoardes of these has-beens. Sadly, there are far too many of these flops to
name them all, so our nostalgic trip down mascot memory lane
will include only a select few.
The California Raisins
You didn’t just hear it through the
grapevine, it’s true, this musical group of
old grapes has seen better days. The
claymation versions of these mascots
were created in Portland, Oregon by Will
Vinton. In the late 80’s they appeared in a
number of commercials and even had their
own animated cartoon series for a couple seasons on
CBS. A Nintendo game called “California Raisins: The
Grape Escape” was created but never released to
consumers. It’s been a while since these guys have
been out and about, maybe people finally figured out
that, as cute as the claymation is, raisins are for old
people and little kids.
The 7-Up Spot
This piece of advertising genius (simply a red dot with arms, legs,
and sweet sunglasses) had perhaps a more successful career as
a video game character than as a corporate mascot. It started in 1990
with the release
of the 8 bit game for Nintendo and Atari
called “Spot”, then came “Cool
Spot” in 1993 and finally in 1995
“Spot Goes to Hollywood”. After
that, it looks like Cool Spot suffered the
same fate as most who go to Hollywood with
high hopes: he’s either become a whore or gone insane,
in both cases probably wandering around the
boulevard in his bathrobe
cursing the day he
partnered with
7-Up.
The Domino’s Noid
This little man in a weird maroon suit
attempted to foil many pizza delivery
from Dominoes in days gone by, but
since he was dropped years ago, it’s
been easy to avoid the Noid. He’s
another mascot in our theme of those with their own video
games (I would argue his game was the best). The noid has
been out of circulation for quite some time, though if you’re
lucky you can catch him in a recent Family Guy episode.
Arby’s Oven Mitt
I’ve included this mascot in hopes that soon it will be a
thing of the past, perhaps it will involved in an unfortunate kitchen accident.
Joe Camel
This one’s pretty obvious, but in case you haven’t
heard. Joe Camel, the chain smoking man trapped
in a camel’s body spokesthing for camel cigarettes
was heavily criticized for its alleged appeal to a teen
audience (a big no
no in the tobacco
industry). Joe Camel
was finally dropped in
1997 after nine years
as a spokesthing. Joe is
currently recovering from hump cancer at his
home in Delaware.
The Taco Bell Chihuahua
Okay, we all know that Chihuahuas
don’t have opposable thumbs and therefore could never eat a taco properly, but
for some reason this little guy just can’t
get enough of Taco Bell. Unfortunately for him
and Taco Bell, most of the TV audience in the
US, have had plenty.
Mr. Yuck
So maybe Mr. Yuck is still sulking away under kitchen sinks
and in bathroom cupboards, attempting to warn children not to
drink poison, but he earns a place on this list for a few reasons. First, he has a
theme song, yes, a theme song. It is perhaps the worst piece of music ever to
be forced upon my ears. Second,
the Mr. Yuck campaign seems
to be telling children that they
are allowed to anything
other than those items with
Mr. Yuck’s picture
on them, and I
can’t condone
this obvious neglect
of childhood curiosity.
Much like the D.A.R.E program Mr. Yuck has never been proved
as an effective deterrent in any way.
MINUTIA • 07
A Man of Unfine Art
Feinstein’s Museum of Unfine Art and Record Store is a hangout, tobacco and music store, and an art gallery.
The Museum was named after Arthur Feinstein, whose legend was passed to storeowner Shawn Mediaclast
through oral history. In 1917, Feinstein journeyed from Europe to a small Washington logging town where the
13-year-old opened the first Museum of Unfine Art. Story and Photos by Kyle Carnes.
This Museum sneered at the snobbish European
art world. It featured acrobats, clowns and miniature animals and sold cigarettes and tobacco. After
Feinstein retired in 1970, the Museum’s management changed between “a family of illegal Mexican
immigrants fleeing communist gangs, a small sect
of Korean Quakers, and a stand-up comedian
from Vegas named Alfred Sprout,” a store flier
says. In 2002, The Eugene Museum opened with
Mediaclast behind the counter.
Mediaclast’s Museum is an offering of space to an
abandoned pet, artists, record collectors, and musicians, to locals who search for the un-mainstream,
un-iPod, un-corporate. And it is done so amid a
struggle to raise it from its infancy to a medium for
cultural expression.
A first visit to this store is a sensory overload: a
mosaic of fliers plasters the windows, a t-shirt rack
08 • SEAN MEDIACLAST
to the left, crates brimming with records deadcenter, black and white wigs near the back, a
golden Buddha on the counter, and artwork filling
the navy and light blue walls. Above a doorway, a
sign between two clown masks reads, “I love your
dirty little potatoes and sweet cherry tomatoes.” A
large dragonfly with wire-framed wings hangs from
the ceiling. A snuffling brown-collared Pug wearing
a pink tag waddles from underneath a table and
stares with her black fury mask. Her blond tail
curls over her wagging rump like a cinnamon roll.
“Prudence,” the tag reads.
previous owners were all that nice to her. She was
really skittish,” he says. Mediaclast rescued Prudence from the pound eight years ago. Sometimes
while DJing at Jaxx, he dedicates a house remix
of the Beatles song “Dear Prudence” to her. “It’s
really funny to think of her at midnight in a drunken
environment,” he says laughing. “I get a really
warm feeling in my heart.”
In the back, hiding behind the glass counter,
Mediaclast hunkers over an iBook. The tall, lanky
34-year-old wears a pair of thick Woody Allen-like
glasses, a navy blue cap, matching button-up
collared shirt and Dickies slacks. Prudence flops
on a black mat and falls asleep. “I don’t think her
Another flier on the glass counter reads, “The management and staff of the Museum remain committed to contributing to an economy by which artists
are able to show and sell their work without kissing
the ass of the foof galleries’ stagnant aesthetic and
exploitive practices,” signed, “Prudence.”
Besides the Museum, DJing takes up most of
Mediaclast’s time,“Mashing records together and
seeing people respond,” he says, “I frickin love it.”
The Museum has featured the work of over 500 local artists, more than any other gallery in the area,
including Perry Joseph’s wood cut print, Jayme
Vineyard’s canvas paintings and Kellan Cooper’s
spray-paint stencils. “I have to say, this town is rich,
very rich with human creative, intellectual potential,” he says. “I think that was the main reason I
didn’t go under.”
The Museum’s opening months were rough for
Mediaclast, who maxed three credit cards to stay
afloat. “I didn’t know I would succeed. It was really
sketchy for the first year . . . really hand-to-mouth,”
he says. The store was originally a room half its
current size and had one row of records, some
t-shirts, postcards and garage sale junk. “It was really very skeletal,” he says. “It was a confluence of
cigarettes and art and a little bit of music and vinyl
that got people flowing through here.”
A customer walks in, his ear tuned to the thumping drums and wailing sax playing on the stereo.
“What band is this,” he says. “Botox?” It’s not, but
Mediaclast takes the question as a compliment
because he plays sax and theromine for Botox.
Recently, Botox has played at local venues like
John Henry’s, WOW Hall, Black Forest and Sam
Bonds Garage. They are now taking time to record.
Botox’s “disciplined improvisation” and “spontaneous composition” is influenced by folk, punk and
jazz and “inspired by avant-garde music of the last
150 years that is indeterminate and not held down
by any particular genre,” Mediaclast says.
The phone suddenly rings and Mediaclast answers
it as if he were a radio talk show host. “Muoooooseum, how can I help you? . . . Hey, can I call you
back . . . Okay, bye, mom.” His mother, Barbara
Difiore, an office worker, calls every other day from
the bus stop.
When Mediaclast was six, his parents were
divorced. Before that he lived in Maine, Oklahoma,
Michigan and New York throughout his childhood.
He also lived in Connecticut and Minnesota during
college where, with the help of an advisor, he
created his own major, Art Community and Social
Change. His constant moving reflects the displacement he feels in his life. “For me it’s become
a dominant force in my personality because it
hasn’t been easy to figure out how to fit who I am
into this world.”
Following college, he wanted to live in the San
Francisco Bay Area, but it was too expensive so
he compromised and moved to Oregon. After six
years in Eugene, Mediaclast found himself on the
brink of unemployment when he was let go by two
employers, Café Navarro and a college student
tutoring service. He hadn’t imagined he’d open
a store because he didn’t want to be tied down.
But “I had a feeling that you have one life . . . and
you’ve gotta take risks,” he says. “If you’re going to
fail, fail. At least you can say you tried.” Feeling he
had no other option, with Prudence by his side, he
opened the Museum.
Through the Museum, Mediaclast has been able to
create a niche in the Eugene community by tapping
into its grassroots culture and offering space to
local artists, which has ultimately sustained his
business. “Offering people space . . . changes
the economy of the situation because . . . there’s
people that have . . . an investment in emotion
and expression. It’s not really an investment that is
financial, but it does create an economy. It creates
an economy of traffic, and traffic is the first step to
having any kind of a business.”
Mediaclast believes small business creates the
fabric of Eugene. The Museum is a response
to developers and corporations, which he says
create homogenization and sterilization. As a DJ,
Mediaclast sees the preservation of vinyl being
threatened by the music industry’s exclusive focus
on digital music, and record stores like the Museum are what keep vinyl alive. “I think it’ll be a sad
day if the record store kind of dissolves because of
shitty sounding mp3 players and iPods,” he says.
“It’s not going to happen because records sound
best.” Vinyl is crisper, has more highs and lows,
and is analog, which DJs prefer. “To be clicking and
sliding a mouse around,” he says, “it’s the last thing
I would want to be doing as a DJ.”
For Mediaclast it’s all about the customers, building a relationship with them, and the ideas they
bring. “The big part of this place for me is . . . just
getting an understanding of where people are at,
where culture is at” he says. “Anything from Iraq to
Burning Man to downtown development programs.”
The Museum is a meeting space for conversation,
a networking space for bands or simply a space
to hang and see art. “It’s not loitering. It’s just
checking shit out,” he says. “I like the idea that it’s
a museum. So it allows that opening of ‘I can walk
into this place and not have a salesperson in my
face.’”
Prudence still sleeps on her mat, but the Museum
traffic is picking up as more people stop to check
out the art, buy cigarettes or browse the vinyl. I
ask Mediaclast if he’s up for a photo-op but he’s
hesitant. He quickly ducks his head into the glass
display case and returns wearing plastic glasses
with a rubber nose, black mustache and large
fuzzy eyebrows attached to their frame. He lights a
cigarette and turns his cap backward. Through the
hardship of creating a space for himself and others,
he has certainly retained a sense of humor. “I
have to keep reminding myself that, yes, there are
reasons to keep doing this,” he says, “even though
it’s been hard.”
Another customer approaches the counter. “Mary,”
he says with a warm smile. “How are you?”
“Are you still thinking about moving out of here?”
He asks, handing her 2 pakcs of cigarettes.
“Oh, yeah,” she replies. “The more rainy days we
have the sooner.”
“Well,” he says, ”I’ll pray for sun.”
SEAN MEDIACLAST • 09
Rock and Roll is for Girls
Reflective “what ifs” are undeniable and often unavoidable parts of the human experience. Those two words
can leave us full of regret and sadness over missed opportunities, and haunt us for years to come. Two
choices exist when it comes to managing regret. You can submit to it, let it evolve and allow it to affect every
aspect of your life. Or you can move on, take control of your life and manifest your regrets into something
positive. By Amanda Burhop. Illustrations by Evan Meister.
Alexa Weinstein, volunteer for the Rock and Roll
Camp for Girls in Portland Oregon, has spent the
last two years motivating and inspiring girls to
achieve the musical goals that she wasn’t able to
reach until adulthood.
Alexa was a late-comer to playing music. It wasn’t
until the age of 26 that she picked up a pair of
drum sticks for the first time. “I had been an intense
listener and fan of rock and roll since I was 8, and I
had always wanted to play drums, but I had never
tried.” Now 34, Alexa realizes the wide array of
possibilities that exist for girls to get involved in
music. “If I had known at eleven, that I could get on
stage and play, that would have changed my life.”
Alexa’s first visit to the camp was in 2004. An ad
in the Portland Mercury prompted her to watch
the camp’s showcase, where each band performs
a song for family, friends, and the general public.
Standing in a crowd of hundreds of spectators,
she watched in awe as groups of young girls
took the stage with the confidence and ease of
seasoned musicians. Their freedom of expression,
sincerity and enthusiasm echoed across the sea
of spectators. As she gazed at the pint-sized
musicians on stage, Alexa knew being a spectator
wasn’t enough. She started volunteering the same
year.
When Alexa arrives on Monday to the week-long
camp, an explosion of energy occurs as soon as
she opens the doors. There is electricity in the air,
and Alexa knows that she and hundreds of girls are
about to bond over their intense passion for music.
On Monday morning the girls stand in a circle,
some nervous, some excited, but all eager to
be placed in a band. Around the room, pieces of
paper inscribed with musical genres, ranging from
electronic to country, hang on the wall. When given
the green light, the girls flock to their musical style
of choice and form their bands.
Bands generally end up with 3-6 members, and
it’s Alexa’s job to watch over the girls as a band
manager. She will motivate, encourage, and keep a
watchful eye over them as they develop musically
and emotionally.
When Alexa sits down to hear what a band has
written, she doesn’t just listen for changes that
could be made or parts that could be rewritten.
10 • BAND CAMP
Alexa believes it is more important for the girls
to write from their heart and trust their instincts.
She likes to hear their music evolve and take
shape without giving too much input. “You don’t
have to put ideas in them because they already
have them,” she says. In addition, the girls aren’t
limited by traditional song writing tactics because
they don’t have pre-conceived notions about song
writing. “They don’t know the normal way of versechorus-verse writing…they reinvent the wheel.”
Alexa learned to play drums through lessons and
by playing along with her favorite songs. After a
while, she started playing with her friend Nat, who
played guitar. “I was really nervous about playing
with someone else, even someone I knew and
trusted.” But Alexa fought through her fears, and
the two began playing on a regular basis. “We
would just jam for hours, getting used to trying to
play with someone else, not worrying about writing
songs or remembering what we were playing.”
Although Alexa and Nat enjoyed their blend of
drums and guitar, Alexa knew they needed vocals.
“I was much more nervous about singing than I
had been about playing. I thought my voice was
incredibly horrible…But I wanted to sing, and I
felt that in order for the songs to be songs, they
needed lyrics and vocal melodies.” With the help of
friends Pete (guitar) and T’chaka (bass), Alexa and
Nat were able to focus on producing songs that
would become the basis of their indie-folk band,
Wind Up Birds.
century, girls are still taught to be pretty, nice and
to conform their opinions to appease society.
The founder of the Rock and Roll Camp for
Girls, Misty McElroy, started the camp in 2000
to “eradicate all limiting myths about music and
gender that make girls afraid to speak up, sing out,
and make noise.”
Alexa sees rock and roll as the perfect anecdote
to the years of silence. “Putting a mic by a girl is a
really powerful thing.” The camp liberates the girls
by amplifying their voice or instrument; by making it
loud enough for all people to hear.
Lucy Lawer,16, has attended the camp for last
three years, but learned the power of her voice
during her first years at camp. While looking
through the Influential Women in Rock issue of
Rolling Stone Magazine, she noticed Britney
Spears was given a two-page spread, while
Sleater-Kinney, an all-female rock band, was only
given one. “That ticked me off. I was like, ‘What?
Screw that!’” Lucy decided to do something about
it. She wrote the magazine a letter explaining that
just because Sleater-Kinney won’t wear bikinis for
their photos, doesn’t mean they should get smaller
articles. The next year, Sleater-Kinney received
a three-page article with photos. “That’s the
empowerment rock gave me,” says Lucy.
Alexa is impressed by how brave the girls are.
She understands how hard it is to sing and play
onstage. She also recognizes the moment when
the nerves in the arms and legs start to relax, and
the body begins to play the songs it knows by
heart. Like a proud parent, Alexa watches her girls
take the stage after only a week of playing. “The
feeling of being with a band everyday and seeing
them on stage is amazing.”
Part of the camp’s mission is to empower girls
by providing the tools for self-reliance and selfesteem. The camp offers workshops, in addition
to instrument instruction, that teach the girls selfdefense tactics, as well as how to cope with the
media and stereotypes of women. Alexa feels
positive about the direction the camp is headed.
She would like to see it become more professional
and move into a bigger, sound-proof building. Alexa
says she will continue to work with the camp in
the upcoming years and work on getting her book
about rock music, Dig Me Jane, published.
For Alexa and other staff members, the camp is
more than teaching girls to play music. According
to the camp’s website, “it’s not just about being
a musician; it’s about being an active agent in
music culture and industry.” Alexa believes it’s
just as important to teach the girls how to develop
emotionally and mentally, as it is to explore their
self-expression. She says that even in the 21st
Seeing the girls play gives Alexa a renewed sense
of purpose about her own musical endeavors in
Wind Up Birds. When she returns home from camp,
she feels inspired and motivated to kick her drum
playing to a new level - “Something happens being
in that environment,” she says. At the end of the day,
everyone involved seems to take something home
from the camp.
For more information about the Rock and Roll Camp for Girls: www.girlsrockcamp.org
To listen to Alexa’s band: http://myspace.com/windupbirds
BAND CAMP • 11
The ASUO
Bored Game
What you’ll Need:
√ Game pieces of your choice (rubber
bands, beer caps, gum drops, etc.)
√ Friends (preferrably three or more..but if
you only have one that’s okay too)
√ One die (if you want the game to go
faster you can use a pair of dice)
The Rules:
Roll the die for Executive, the most
coveted position. The rest of the players
should divide into 2 teams: Pfc and
Senate.
The Executive will be able to make new
rules at any time.
Once the rule is enacted, the Executive
cannot change it and the Pfc must ensure
the rules are followed. While the Executive
cannot change rules he can make new
rules at any time.
The Senate cannot make or remove any
rules, but they can Change Them. The Pfc
must agree that the change has at least
50% of the old rule intact. The Senate can
also create Committees and Subcommittees.
Simplified Rules:
1) Roll the die to see who is Executive
and goes first. Others divide into
Senate and Pfc.
2) Start playing.
BORED GAME BY HALEY LOVETT AND SCOTT CARVER • 13
What’s a
Scout Niblett?
By Kristen McCulloch. Photos by Kyle Carnes.
Virginal Sound was already resounding through the sparsely filled WOW Music Hall.
Four lanky boys wearing tight pants and cowboy boots were producing strains of keyboard chords and Interpol sounding vocals. The audience of seemingly-medicated
hipsters are communicating their appreciation for the vocals by, on occasion, cocking
their heads to one side, or perhaps tapping one foot in time to the bass drum while
still maintaining a body pose that could be photographed at any moment and be featured in Alternative Press Magazine’s centerfold. Nonetheless, Virginal Sound, which
was formerly Deleted Scenes, projected an image of self-assurance and composure.
After the band members were surrounded by groupies-in-training from the audience, the impressive Portland group, TalkDemonic, took the stage. Consisting of the
dark-haired Lisa Molinaro, playing viola that could have been the background track
for an experimental film, she was complemented by Kevin O’Connor on drums who
pounded intense beats that accented the strains of her viola. They were accompanied by already layered electronic rhythms. This music was a more appropriate
prescription for the confused youth attending because the viola throbbed through
emotional shit and confusion as the drums thrashed out frustration. It was music for
the movers because it truly made a dancer work through the conflict of the contrasting viola. Meanwhile, Scout Niblett is telling me about why she makes music, “it’s
more of a cathartic thing really… it’s just a release. Any form of expression is good
to get out, otherwise it gets it bottled it up and you go crazy,” a comment easily applicable to the dancing that TalkDemonic spurred.
During the set, the infamous Scout Niblett leaned in the stairwell outside the hall,
smoking a cigarette in preparation for the show. Dressed in Adidas Sambas and a
fluorescent attendant vest, she spoke about growing up in England and missing her
mum, who supports her daughter when she tours in the UK. Growing up as an only
child north of Birmingham was, “good cause it made me quite independent. . .I used
to play by myself all the time when I was a kid, so it made me quite creative because
I was quite bored.”
This may explain how Niblett has grown into an unclassifiable artist she is today. On
the way back in, Niblett tried to pass by the ticket lady on the way downstairs, and
was apprehended - told that she needed to pay. It took a bit of mumbling to convey
the fact that this tomboyish woman was the main act of the evening, probably due to
her unflashy attire and indrawn attitude.
TalkDemonic finished their set with the question, “What do you think of weird silences
at shows,” resounding in everyone’s ears. The crowd slowly flocked towards the
outer benches of the venue to rest for the upcoming set. The attendees were entertained by two teenaged girls dancing in the middle of the floor with plastic pig noses
affixed on their faces who kept claiming, “Everyone’s watching us!” Entertaining, the
girls seemed to be having fun only because of the attention they knew they were
receiving. Niblett walked by at one point with a slight limp accentuating the reflective
strip in her vest, and watched the girls in amusement.
Even without vocalizing a change in anticipation, it was obvious to even the most
sedated observer that the mood shifted from slightly entertained and exhausted to
sheer excitement as soon as Scout Niblett ascended the stage with her drummer
Nate. She started on just her electric guitar, no distortion, no drums. The electricity
in her voice had clarity in it that conveyed emotion in a slow, deliberate melody that
commanded the crowd’s attention to her. No one crowded the stage, but hung back
clearly respective honesty that she told. The audience was completely mesmerized
by the expression that Niblett summoned through her music, an expression that
14 • SCOUT NIBLETT
shed light on the fact that her worth is not put across
through the false image that clothing and body
language communicate, but through her honest attention to the passions that arise throughout life.
“People ask me what it’s like to be compared to Cat
Power or PJ Harvey, so you could do that... and I
could tell you to fuck off,” she laughs, “I think it’s
funny that people get compared to other people: because you’re a woman, you get compared to woman
artists, but it’s nothing to do with the fact you’re a
woman why you’re making music. I don’t get pissed
off by it; I just think it’s funny because I know the reason is because we’re women. Oh get over it. Yeah, II
have a cunt and breasts.”
Gender roles haven’t stunted her ability to work
towards living a somewhat unconventional life. She
noticed, “I kind of hang out more with boys than girls.
I think because boys actually...” After drifting off, she
continued by saying, “I think the things I’m interested
in, the things I’m doing with my life, there are more
boys doing them so I tend to become friends with
them. Music is full of guys usually.”
Throughout the show, Niblett vacillates between a
raging heathen woman and a sweet and docile girl.
She politely thanks the audience after each song is
finished, and manages to curse with every reply to
compliments being thrown on the stage. A guy yells
out, “You’re really great!” She acknowledges this
by commenting in her obscure accent, “Yeah, we’re
really great, huh.” Halfway through the show, Nate
and her get in a water fight. As water spews onto
her arm, she yells, “You fucking fuck!” to the delight
of the crowd. People are laughing and moving to
her music, internalizing what she expresses further
with every song, and communicating it to the world,
unaware of their own freed body movements.
Her set ends, and people slowly float away on the
clouds that had risen from the trembling wooden
floor. As her crew packs up their gear into the van
parked behind the WOW she sells merchandise on
the side of the stage. Although reluctant to talk about
herself, she reveals why she was limping: “I’m not
very ladylike; I was wrestling this boy last night… I
wrestle anyone who wants to wrestle, boys or girls…
I always do it when I’m drunk. It’s always playful; I’m
very playful when I’m drunk…. It’s become a thing
I do…” Trailing off, Nate expounds on the story by
stating that, “They’ve been known to wrestle before,
and I don’t feel sorry for her because she knows
what she’s getting into.” They were kicked out of
an art gallery because six people were wrestling in
one bundle, and after a recycling bin of beer was
dumped upon everyone they were asked to leave.
At this point, Niblett exclaims with an almost childlike
glee, “He peed on the floor!” When asked if it was an
accident, she stubbornly replies, “No, on purpose.”
And does Scout Niblett ever pee on the floor? She
says, “I didn’t that night.”
SCOUT NIBLETT• 15
Hillstomp at John Henry’s
Johnson and vocalist/guitarist Henry Kammerer shook every table, chair, and wall beam of John
Henry’s on Friday, March 24. The loyal fans and even newcomers never stopped dancing to the
highly energized sounds of Hillstomp. Story and Photos by Cori Stoddard.
“We’re gonna get up there and we’re gonna raise
hell and we’re gonna try and make people have a
good time,” said drummer/vocalist John Johnson of
the two-person Portland band, Hillstomp.
Hillstomp uniquely blends the sounds of
Kammerer singing through a vintage microphone
and playing guitar with Johnson flying drumsticks
across the tops of coffee cans and upturned plastic
buckets. The drummer combined parts from two
broken brass washboards and performed on
it with spoons.
The band’s style of music blends the genres of hill,
country, blues, rock and stomp. Their versatility
allows them to play with different types of bands
in a variety of venues. “It’s acoustic enough that
we can play coffee shops; it’s rock enough we can
play here,” says Kammerer, pointing to the dark,
crimson-lighted surroundings of John Henry’s.
Their appeal has brought together people of all
types. At John Henry’s, one fan near the front row
is wearing a Social Distortion jacket; other people
are in plaid shirts, sweatshirts, baggy clothes, tight
skirts or long-flowing skirts.
16 • HILLSTOMP
The type of bands they perform with and how the
crowd will react sometimes surprise Hillstomp.
“We played with a Goth band and it worked! We
got the Goth kids dancing! If you can do that,
you’re doing something right,” said Kammerer as
Johnson laughed next to him.
The guys enjoy performing with guest artists such
as harmonica player Matty Slim from the band that
opened for them, Matty Slim & The 1, 4, Five’s.
Unlike many rock bands, there seemed to be no
competition among these blues artists and others
they’ve met while touring. “The better one of us
does, the better the rest of us are gonna do to get
that style, and that kind of music out to the broader
range of people,” said Kammerer.
A truck driver from California saw Hillstomp
perform a couple of years ago at the Portland Saturday Market, he likes to listen to their music while
he’s driving, “These guys rock,” he said.
Continued on next page
Hillstomp Cont.
Fan loyalty and undying urges to dance are
common. A girl with a broken foot was dancing
right up by the stage. Throughout the 17-song
set, the crowd never stopped swing dancing,
free form dancing, or just jumping up and down.
“If people aren’t dancing, sometimes we get
a little bit concerned. This is basically dance
music . . . as what it’s originally supposed to
be,” said Kammerer.
Hillstomp’s performances feed off the energy
they get from the crowd, and they’re always
modest and gracious when talking with their
fans, many of whom they’ve gotten to know on
MySpace. They are cautious, though, about
how much time they use the rapidly growing
website. “It’s a double-edged sword because
it’s a giant time-sucking hole that I think on
some level destroys your creativity and soul if
you spend too much time on it. On the other
hand it totally allows you to connect with fans
and people all over the world,” said Johnson.
The members of Hillstomp are also aware of
what lines they won’t cross when it comes to
promoting their music and possibly getting
noticed on a bigger scale. Recently they were
asked by a local Budweiser distributor to be a
part of the True Music campaign, and Johnson
and Kammerer turned down the offer of tour
support money.
“If it had been Fat Tire, which is a wind-powered, employee-owned brewery, absolutely. We
probably would have hung a Fat Tire banner
behind us,” said Johnson. Even though they
have played at Budweiser-sponsored events,
the guys of Hillstomp prefer to work with homegrown businesses. As for the commercialism
side of the music business, they are quick to
say that they would never accept money for the
use of one of their songs from a business they
don’t support.
“We’re not necessarily looking to use our music
to sell shit, but if we were offered to, it would
certainly depend on what they were selling,”
said Johnson.
The crowd at John Henry’s absorbed the highenergy music that Hillstomp emanated for the
full hour and a half – even calling for a second
encore. By that time Johnson was so worn
out from the performance that his “whole body”
was numb, and said he didn’t think he would’ve
been able to play another song.
He and Kammerer will have a quick rest before
they head to the United Kingdom for the Spitz
Festival on April 5, then they’ll be back in
Eugene at Sam Bond’s, April 29.
Minus The Bear
Minus the Bear live at WOW Hall with Crystal Skulls, and the
Appleseed Cast. March 4, 2006. Story and Photos by Korey Schultz.
Attention all concertgoers: Please dance,
especially when asked to do so by the band!
Minus the Bear says that the best shows are
when the audience brings their dancing shoes.
Minus the Bear is made up of Dave Knudsonguitar, Cory Murchy- bass, Jake Snidervocals/guitar, Axel- keyboard. On Saturday
March 5, the crowd stood still for four acts and
almost four hours of music; this isn’t right. It
was odd to watch as the excitement of the
audience grew, but never to see any dancing.
The crowd stood still with only a few high
school students screaming out song titles.
Even so, with the end of each song cheers
rose exponentially from the crowd, it seems
everybody loves the music.
The opening band for the evening was Crystal
Skulls. Crystal Skulls played their version of
dance/rock while claiming in between songs
that they invented their hometown of Seattle,
instantly glorifying the Crystal Skulls to anyone
who has visited Seattle.
Rocky Votolato was the next to perform.
Switching between the personal concert feel
of a solo show, with only Rocky, his guitar,
and harmonica inhabiting the stage, to inviting
members of the Crystal Skulls to help him fill in
some sounds. The halfway point of the night
was The Appleseed Cast, who began their set
with heavy rock with melodic lyrics and ended
with heavy rock with melodic lyrics. Each song
played by the Appleseed Cast involved intense
drumming and hard guitar. They put on a great
show, but it lacked the articulation of the lyrics.
As 10:30 rolled around and The Appleseed Cast
finished their set, a sense of silent anticipation
swept over the crowd. For these three hours
the crowd had been waiting for the moment that
Minus the Bear would walk on stage. Many
audience members were more anxious than
usual because MTB cancelled their last Eugene
appearance, but they were worth the wait. On
their current tour MTB is spanning the country
playing songs from every album, even their first
EP This Is What I Know About Being Gigantic.
Through the entire show the crowd gazed
excitedly at the band that, put simply, was taking
our collective breath away. MTB played songs
like Absinthe Party at the Fly Honey Warehouse,
The Fix, and Lemurs, Man, Lemurs for roughly an
hour and a forty-five minutes including an encore.
Every concert attendee understands how rare
it is to find oneself at a show with four bands,
and then to have all four groups put on amazing
shows. This was one of those concerts. It was
an experience that I would skip countless other
bands to witness again. The fact that Minus the
Bear did not focus all of their attention on their
newest album, Menos el Oso, was appreciated
by every fan who has been listening to them
since the beginning.
MINUS THE BEAR • 17
An Under-Sea Adventure with
Eugene, Oregon rocker Dan Jones plays a Gibson Paul. Not to be confused with the ubiquitous Les Paul, The
Paul is a heavy mahogany canoe paddle Gibson made from the late 70’s until the mid 80’s. It was conceived
as a quality entry-level guitar, manufactured without frills and discontinued when it upstaged its pricier cousins.
The now-rare Paul is the subject of online odes to its reliability, durability and limitless sustain, but it’s still
cheap – an under-recognized gem hovering below the radar. I nurse a PBR as I catch Dan’s set at Luckey’s,
thinking to myself that no other guitar could suit him better. By Jon Itkin. Illustration by Evan Meister.
Dan’s Paul is connected to an Ampeg Reverb
Rocket and a Fender practice amp running in
stereo. He’s tearing chug-punk riffs and elastic,
squealing non-leads out of the thing as his
3-piece combo, the Squids, churn gentle thunder
around him. The crowd is fair-to-middling for
a Saturday night. A handful of people stand at
the foot of the stage, nodding with approval and
tapping their feet. The rest are scattered around
the pool tables or backed up at the bar.
You might expect more fanfare for a guy with
three great, different records, relentless good
press and a long “opened for” list that includes
indie heroes like the Decemberists, Curt
Kirkwood, Mike Watt and Dinosaur Jr. Dan has
been a pillar of the Eugene music scene for over
six years, seen crowds grow and shrink, and
taken it with a grain of salt. “I don’t think my
music is aimed at people who would choose to
camp out in any one hip scene,” he says. “I don’t
care what the next big thing is.”
Dan’s loose, freewheeling attitude permeates his
music. Get Sounds Now, his newest album, is a
33-minute burst of punk-rock poetry recorded raw,
live and uncontrived.
Howard Libes, the head of Candide Entertainment
and the former manager of Eugene success story
the Cherry Poppin’ Daddies, watched Dan grow
from an acoustic open mic crasher to a bar rock
basher. “The tone of Dan’s music reflects where
he is in the business,” Libes says. “He’s getting
closer to the sound in his head.”
Dan grew up in Missouri. He played a 25 dollar
guitar through his stereo as a teenager, but kept
rock ‘n roll separate from his main musical pursuit,
classical trombone. While studying English at the
University of Iowa, Dan wrote poetry and listened
to The Minutemen, House of Large Sizes and
the Silos –bands with raw, powerful punk soul,
strong musicianship and lyrics that celebrate the
mundane. Dan also stumbled upon Tom T. Hall,
Tom Waits and Roger Miller, great story-song
writers in the American pop music tradition. Soon
Dan would fuse these two disparate styles into a
music with a raw backbeat and cinematic lyrics.
“Dan’s lyrics were always awesome,”
18 • DAN JONES
says Steve Tulipana, an old friend and bandmate.
“Even when we couldn’t play.”
Dan never quite hit his stride in school. “I had a
partition in my mind between what I was allowed
to do and what I really liked to do, which was
listen to DOA records in my dorm room,” he says.
“My mission when I was in college was to become
a writer and write novels.”
Dan did become a writer, but not the successful
novelist he imagined. After graduation he drifted
to Oregon and worked crappy jobs, writing poetry
at night. It took about seven years for him to work
up the courage to play guitar and sing in front of
people. “I don’t really know when the actual flip of
the toggle switch came,” he says.
The songs began to flow. In 1999, Dan released
For Your Radio, an 11-track acoustic album
fleshed out with brush snare and electric guitar
overdubs. The songs feel comfortable and
straightforward, with swinging, folky picking and
hummable melodies.
For Your Radio is a storytelling album, and it
earned Dan a label as a guy who sits on a stool
strumming an acoustic guitar. His rock and roll
heart chafed. “I did not want to get stuck in the
Americana folk ghetto,” he says. Dan found the
solution to his restlessness in the Squids, his
shape-shifting take on Crazy Horse. “I never
wanted a back-up band,” he says. “I always
thought a band should be a dog-fight situation in
the tradition of The Who and the Minutemen.”
Over the years, Dan has played with at least
three drummers, numerous bassists, guitarists,
and even a few keyboardists. “Eugene is a great
music laboratory,” he says. “I like it when people
come to a show and say it sounded completely
different from the last one.”
Dave Snider, of Eugene outfit Testface, is sitting
in on bass for the Luckey’s show. His thick,
meaty lines push the band forward. The sound
is energetic and dense with melody, frenetic
but under control. Dan’s new songs have less
structure and more bounce than his previous
work. Guitar riffs surge upward, vocal melodies
are catchy and lyrics are more disjointed. Mike
Last has been the Squids’ drummer for over a
year. He and Dan form the core of the band,
arranging the songs together in Dan’s garage.
“Dan’s music started in kind of a downer, poetic
mode,” Mike says. “His latest album is happier
and more playful.”
A couple weeks after the gig at Luckey’s, I’m
sitting in Dan’s kitchen, eating Trader Joe’s
Mandarin Chicken and listening to LP’s. Dan
puts on The Last, an obscure late 70’s surf-pop
punk band from the LA scene. “One thing that
troubles me is how to make music both creative
and inclusive,” he says. “Johnny Cash and Willie
Nelson had Guided By Voices fans and old ladies
in their audiences.”
Dan is thinking about another album, thinking
about touring beyond the northwest, thinking
about his van –he’s making payments on a big
white GMC Safari. “I contemplate going on
the road all the time,” he says. “But there’s the
economics, there’s work.” Dan is a lead finisher
in a window production shop. “I’m kind of a
mother hen there,” he says.
Before I go, Dan plays me a four-track tape of
some new ideas. He’s working on a song called
“Squeaky the Chicken,” inspired by a young
friend’s pet. Dan crafts his tunes by recording
multiple versions on a cheap tape deck. The
first version of the song has an insistent back
beat, Beatlesy guitar and a ringing refrain. Then
the form melts into a funny, off-kilter breakdown
before returning to the hook. The second version
is slower and even more Beatlesy with layered
vocal harmonies. The idea is getting close but still
raw. A third version could be complete. Dan put
one of his home demos on Get Sounds Now. He
might release an entire four-track album someday.
It remains to be seen whether Dan Jones will
burst out of regional/obscure status. His songs
are good enough, but the music business has
never been just about songs. One thing is for
sure. Dan will always be out there, painting funny
pictures and carving out a home for his artwork.
“Music is always a part of something larger,” he
says. “For me, practice is how I live my life, meet
my responsibilities, pay my bills and show up
creatively.”
Dan Jones
Eugene is a
great music
laboratory
ALBUM REVIEWS
Album: Get Good or Stay Bad \
Artist: The Cops \ Label: Mt. Fuji Records
Album: Nothing Left to Lose \ Artist: Mat Kearney \
Label: Aware/Columbia Records
I want to love the Cops. I really do, but
alas, I can’t. There are so many elements
to their music that could be good, but
aren’t. They sound like The Cure and
The Clash all wrapped tightly into a
problematic mind fuck. It doesn’t work,
and it can’t. Many critics have given
praise to their use of politically driven
lyrics that are presented in a tasteful manner. This of course is
bullshit, in that all they really convey in our time of social and
political crisis is that, to paraphrase “shit sucks.” Rating: Tejano
out of the best things derivative of Polka. Eric Weilbacher.
Somehow, someone in Nashville got the idea
that combining the sounds of Everlast and Justin
Timberlake would be cool. It’s not cool, but it will
sell in our ever-degenerate US cultural market.
Someone would be wise to point out to Oregon
native Mr. Kearney that most within this State’s music
scene probably have disowned him at this point, but
unfortunately, I can’t speak for everyone. Rating:
mold out of things Oregon’s rain washes away to Nashville.
Eric Weilbacher.
Artist: Jenny Lewis \
Album: Rabbit Fur Coat \ Label: Team Love
Jenny Lewis’ solo album, Rabbit Fur
Coat, is a love letter to country music.
The front woman of Rilo Kiley took a
departure from her indie beginnings to
explore the little-house-on-the-prairie
side of herself with help from the album’s
collaborators, The Watson Twins.
Lewis’ modern-day country songs are
reminiscent of Patsy Cline, Neko Case and Mazzy Star. Each
song carries Lewis’ signature tiny, feminine voice. But unlike her
other projects, Rabbit Fur Coat, presents the brooding tone of a
person with a broken heart and fractured soul; a female character
that would have appeared in the Anne of Green Gables series.
Or perhaps in films like, The Wizard or Troop Beverly Hills. Yeah,
that’s right; Hannah Neffler was my girl. Rating: Super Mario
Brothers Three out of The Wizard. Amanda Burhop.
Album: Carnegie Hall 4.6.02 \ Artist: Ani Difranco \
Label: Righteous Babe Records
Ani Difranco disciples: this album is necessary to
experience, if only for the nonsensical live babble
that is remiss on studio albums. Difranco plays songs
from her older albums and shows why she outstrips
those passionately deranged lobbyists that grace the
EMU amphitheater. She covers issues the way that
suburban sprawl and apathy have covered the US.
Released four years after a performance at Carnegie
Hall that attempts to absorb the shock of 9/11, Difranco succeeds in shaking
her audience to their core through spoken word and delicately throbbing chord
structures. This performance tingles the listener’s soul because the music and
emotion go down your spine and explode into goosebumps - the audience
often erupting into applause. Despite a more somber outlook than her Living
in Clip release, this CD is a testament to Difranco’s legacy as a conscientous
artist. Rating: 9/11 was sad out of true stories. Kristen McCulloch.
Album: Karlshorst \ Artist: Kinn \
Label: Audio Dregs
Album: Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas \ Artists:
Hunter S. Thompson, Jimmy Buffet, Todd Snider,
Joan Cusak \ Label: Margaritaville Records
With their release Karlshorst, the Berlin
trio Kinn manage to set a beautiful
example of what an album should be.
Each song is carefully balanced within
the others so as not to disturb the whole.
Kinn’s almost entirely instrumental work
gives each strum of the guitar, each beat
of the drum, each utterance of any kind
enough space to avoid stepping on the heels of the sounds after it.
The gentle rise and fall of each song will coax the listener through
the album from start to finish. The field recordings that are often
laced throughout the tracks are as perfect a tie to reality as the
music is a vehicle to daydreaming. If my life were a movie, I would
want this album to be in the soundtrack. Rating: Hot date out of
Friday nights. Haley Lovett.
This album is not the soundtrack from the film; rather,
it is an album of excerpts from the book Fear and
Loathing in Las Vegas. It combines spoken word
with book on tape, creating a 76-minute recording,
capturing the story and spirit of Fear and Loathing in
Las Vegas in the most gripping way possible. The
listener is immersed in cinimatic language and the
ambient noise that is found when searching for the
American dream with a plethora of drugs. From the screeching of giant bats,
to the slither of giant bloodthirsty lizards the listener in envoloped in the sonic
world of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. It is interesting to see which artists
Hunter S. Thompson appreciated enough allow their contribution on this
album of cinematic spoken word. This story was made for road trips; so grab a
piece and toss this into your CD player as you search for the American Dream.
Rating: Grapefruit out of potential mixers. Korey Schultz.
20 • ALBUM REVIEWS
Album: Now Playing \ Artist: Ayatollah \
Label: Nature Sounds
Ayatollah is a Producer based in Queens, New York who has
made beats for the likes of Mos Def and Pharoahe Monch, among
others. Now Playing strips the guest rapping away, making for a
soulful, instrumental album of surprising stylistic expanse. The
song “Platinum” sounds like robots with tambourines, moaning
electronic sounds and blips while “Kingston” is infused with a
reggae flavor, complete with horns and a wicked downbeat - hell
there is even a turntable in there, albeit not a typical reggae
instrument. “Stomping Grounds” and “Who Got it” are as soulful as the come and like
many tracks on on this disc, female singers playing an integral part in the background
tracks, as well as an active vocal element in the beats themselves, which stays pretty
classy, despite some repetition. “This Song is Over” samples The Who song of the same
name, a happy, laid-back sounding jaunt, that lacks much of the passion of other tracks
- notably the characteristic snippets of what sounds like audio archives of vintage activism,
that seem to crop up throughout the album. Rating: Trumpet of instruments I want to
hear more of. Scott Carver.
Album: ABCDEFGHIJKickball \
Artist: Kickball \ Label: Houseopolis
ABCEDFGHIJKickball is the third release from the band Kickball
- who hail from Olympia. The lyrics and guitar of Jacob Wilson
seem to fluctuate between what seems like a timid playfulness
and exotic, passionate crescendos. Similarly the drumming is
at times a delicate tinkling of xylaphone keys, and at others a
raucous bout with the whole drumkit - in any case, Kickball does
a great job of building you up, missing a beat just long enough for
you to gasp for air, then punching you in the gut with some musical
phrase that completes it all and just makes you want to dance crazily, arms and legs flailing.
Tracks like “Brown,” “Party” and “Mud” make ABCEDFGHIJKickball a treasure-trove of
catchy northwest indie-rock, the result of which is a combination of high-speed instrumental
merrymaking and emotive, melodic lyrics, delivered with vigor from the endearing trio.
Rating: Karate kick out of dance moves. Scott Carver.
Album: Book of Maps II \ Artist: Book of Maps \
Label: Whoa! Records
While I cannot guarantee that everyone will like this album, I can
say that most will appreciate the clever names included in this
Portland trio’s track list, for example track one is titled “If you ever
hear anybody say rulooks, they got it from us”. Most of lead singer
Christopher Bauman’s lyrics have a Taking Back Sunday esque
feel to them, the words hardly decipherable, but the loud anguish
is missed by no one. The bass sounds reminescent of the Red
Hot Chili Peppers of the ninties. Guitarist Chris Pickolick may
overstay his welcome a bit in a few of the guitar solos that are littered throughout the tracks,
but fans of this metal/puck/rock style probably wont be turned off. Dummer Ryan Northrop
does an admirable job of keeping the pace through all the ups and downs of this album. All
said, this band has an energy and a genre that are hard to categorize and might be better
appreciated if heard live first. Eugenians will get a chance to see them in concert on April 30
at the Tiny Tavern. Rating: Tab out of diet beverages. Haley Lovett.
Dreams!
can come true
ALBUM REVIEWS • 21
BOOK
FILM
Book : Mr. Show: What Happened?! The Complete
Story & Episode Guide \ Author: Naomi Odenkirk
Classic Film: Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home \
Director: Leonard Nimoy
For those who do not know, Mr. Show was
a sketch comedy show that pushed the
boundaries of comedy from 1995-1998 on
HBO, airing 30 episodes in four seasons. I
have never witnessed a television show
leave behind more outrageous humor, shock,
distaste, and smart comedy. Naomi Odenkirk
has compiled more than an episode guide,
she has told the tale of Mr. Show in its entirety.
The foreward, written by none other that
Adolph Royce Hitler on a piece of stationary
from La Questra Inn, Buenos Aires, Argentina,
embodies the soul of Mr. Show by rambling
off topic about life, and eventually apologizing
for, as Hitler put it, “that bad thing I did.” The
book is a treasure chest of information about Mr. Show; a blessing to the
reader. Odenkirk chronicles both Bob and David’s careers from teenagers,
through their first meeting until they turned Mr. Show into reality. Excitement
gripped me when I paged through the episode guide, season by season, each
with quotes from cast members and random memories from writing/filming the
show, thoughts that can only come from the creators and cast themselves.
There is no question about the amount of heart put into this book; it truly
reflects the quality that Mr. Show is known for. Mr. Show: What Happened?!
is, as they say in Mr. Show, a place “Where ideas can hang out… And do
whatever!” Rating: Technicolor dreamcoats out of things guys named
Joseph might wear. Korey Schultz.
There are very few movies that make me
say, “Go Captain Kirk! Go!”, and Star Trek
IV is one of them. Granted, I only say that
when William Shatner is onscreen, but it
is the only role he can play. Long ago he
trapped himself in the Star Trek universe
and Star Trek IV makes me thank him for
limiting his acting abilities to Captain Kirk.
There are a few key items that make up
the all star quality of Star Trek IV: The
Voyage Home. The first key item is, of
course, the characters. All of the original
Star Trek cast members are back for
action, from Spock to Dr. McCoy. Second,
is that fact that the plot revolves around
time travel, and in what era does the crew of the Starship Enterprise find
itself? Why 1986 of course, the year the movie was released. The plot
continues as the different crew members must do their parts to fix their
broken starship. More importantly Kirk and Spock must locate and rescue
two humpback whales which they will transport back to the future. Why
would humpback whales be so important? Why is time travel necessary?
Can Kirk, his crew, and one whale biologist, save the future of Earth? This
entertaining Star Trek film will answer these questions through action,
adventure, aliens, Spock’s logic, and an incredible amount of William
Shatner charm. Rating: “May fortune favor the foolish,” out of Kirk
Quotes. Korey Schultz
Book: Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs \ Author: Chuck
Klosterman
Film: The Devil and Daniel Johnson \
Director: Jeff Feuerzeig
Chuck Klosterman probably became an author
and columnist because, like many writers, he
loves the sound of his own voice. And like many
writers, he yearns to have his opinions and
thoughts read by thousand of people. Writers
are lovers of their own opinions. Writers are
lovers of their tastes and preferences. Writers
are lovers of being loved. And we write books
and articles to satisfy the parts of our ego that
need recognition and affirmation. Klosterman’s
“Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs,” functions as an
extended Seinfeld episode or every drunken
conversation on the social significance of
Saved by the Bell. It is a book of essays on pop
culture, youth culture, sub-culture, you-name-it
culture. And I hate it, because it’s the book I wish I had written. Klosterman is
good at what he does. He might even be the master of pop analysis. Not all of us
are capable of producing the right amount of depth and self-deprecating humor
necessary to write a cultural manifesto. Plus, Klosterman knows a lot more
about the Real World than most of us ever will. Klosterman is the quintessential
pop-culture reference guide. The author of “Fargo Rock City,” and “Killing
Yourself to Live,” has been perfecting his brand of “I know more than you do
about everything” probably his entire life. Or maybe he just watches a lot of VH1
specials. Either way, I wouldn’t play a game of Trivial Pursuit with him.
Rating: Stick on tattoo out of a Cracker Jack box. Amanda Burhop.
It’s surprising that a documentary on
Daniel Johnston surfaces at a time when
his music career is coming to an end.
Johnston writes songs that, to the general
public, are unlistenable. Along with other
things, he’s been obsessed with the devil
and he’s manic depressive. He is the true
embodiment of the crazy artist. In fact, to
see him today is somewhat depressing.
A man once young and full of ambition is
now old, overweight and listless. Before
TDDJ Feurzeig only directed two other
films but what he lacks in experience,
he makes up for in compassion for his
subject matter. Johnston is not an easy
person to film. And while his words are short and actions are limited, there’s
something reassuring in his glazed-over expressions. Feurzeig delicately
handles current footage of Johnston playing music, interacting with family,
and going about his daily life. The rest of the film is an impressive collection
of home footage and audio. Johnston now lives in Waller, Texas with
his mother and father in a basement, which he recreated to look like his
childhood room. There, he spends his time translating his thoughts into
songs about unrequited love and drawings of mythological figures. The
Devil and Daniel Johnston is both an accessible and entertaining film.
Rating: Zoloft out of antidepressants. Amanda Burhop.
22 • BOOK/FILM REVIEWS
Fashion
A. Portable
Barbecue by
Porté Boutique
B. Home-tanning
regimen and bed by
Beautiful Me.
J.
K.
Scooters
C. Hanes
Undershirt
are in for Spring
D. Total Gym
Workout from your
Personal Trainer
Chuck Norris
A. Porté Boutique Grill - $79.90.
Drive on a warm desert evening until you find the
oasis and use your Port Boutique BBQ to cook
your lover fish with a hot plum sauce.
E. Haircut by
Edwario
B. Beautiful Me’s Spring collection of
tanning beds are small enough to fit in your
cramped dorm room! New settings for “slow
roasted” and “speed tan” are now standard.
Starting at $1,200 for introductory models.
C. Hanes Undershirts - $6 for a 3-pack,
Purchased from Bi-Mart and worn on a hot summer
night, half in jest, but 2/3 cause they make you feel
cool like a man.
D. Total Gym XL - endorsed by the king of
fignting, celebrity endorsements and bad acting,
Chuck Norris. Try the Total Gym XL for 30 days for
only $49.95! If you decide to keep it, you’ll be billed
16 additional payments of $99.90.
(real life price!)
F. Vintage Goodwill
Levi Jeans
E. Haircut by Edwario - $260. Eugene’s
most famous experimental hairstylist will paint a
proverbial picture with your hair using his own line
of hair tonics, all of which are organic, with animal
extracts.
H. Used Red
Scooter.
G. Custom
Scooterhorn by
Kraftwerk
Photos By Chris Ten Eyck, Featuriing Keith Ten Eyck Text by Scott Carver.
F. After a long stretch on the road, nothing feels
better than a new, old pair of Levi’s Jeans,
fresh from the local Goodwill.
G. Rewired by a guy who spoke no English, the
Custom Scooterhorn - $75, features the
entire Kraftwerk collection.
H, J, K - Nothing beats life on the road with a
Cherry Red Scooter that once belonged
to Jon Voight. Let the wind cut through you hair, as
the dude your giving a ride holds on tight.
FASHION • 23