24tix.com Experience Blog

Thrill Kill Kult by Erik Lopez of SLUG Magazine

The first concert I ever went to was the Thrill Kill Kult, Impotent Sea Snakes and the Genitortures at Club 5 in Jacksonville, Florida. In the mid 90s I was 14 years of age and had never been to a concert in my life. My parents, strict LDS father-knows-best parents, could not understand why I liked the music I liked or why I would want to go out to a concert so late at night. Furthermore, they were against me listening to “modern music” and had, on several occasions, purged my CD collection of inappropriate material. There was no way in hell that I would have been able to go.

Weeks before the show, a friend and I concocted a scheme to get me out of the house and to the show. Essentially it consisted of the old standard of lying about spending the night at someone else’s at then going to the show. So at age 14, no previous concert experience and the only real rock bands I “liked” at the time were Primus and Nine Inch Nails, I headed out to Jacksonville determined to go to my first concert.

When we arrived at Club 5 as I was a little scared. I was probably the youngest kid at the show and I was wearing Old Navy clothing and some boat shoes while everyone else was dressed in leather or fetish gear. I quickly snuck into the venue and waited nervously for the show to start.

The Impotent Sea Snakes came on first and were goth rock with tons of cock to spare (and some vagina too!). The Impotent Sea Snakes are a PT Barnum and Bailey circus of carnal debauchery that included topless women getting “bum rushed” by nuns, fire breathing, etc…it was the whole kit and caboodle of the sleazy side show in the back alley.

The Genitortures came on stage next and took the debauchery to a whole new level. While the music was loud, seductive and dirty the stage show was worse. It consisted of people getting genital piercings on stage, spankings and whippings and a frenzy of homoerotic showmanship.

While the music wasn’t spectacular in the first two bands, the show was shocking. I don’t think that they try to play music persay as much as practice the visual shock and awe of doing naughty things on stage. For a boy of 14 years old, a sensitive disposition and a nascent LDS background this totally floored me. Good thing the Holy Ghost goes to bed at midnight or else I would have had a heart attack by the end.

Thrill Kill Kult, the last band on, seared through a fantastic set but by that time I felt so dirty and trashy that I don’t remember much of what happened when they played. There were flashing lights, cage dancers and the crowd was in a lustful frenzy of rubbing each other down and violently clashing.

When I walked out of the venue my eyes were on fire, seared with what back then could only be construed as evil and filthy images. Not only were my eyes burning but my mind was emblazoned the mongering energy of what live music could induce in someone. That night, instead of turning me off to music, it made me that much more crazed for it. What a rush and thrill!

Needless to say, my parents found out of my scheme and grounded me for a month for lying to them. I should have known they were going to call my friends parent’s but that night was un(w)holy satisfying.

Erik Lopez
Associate Editor, SLUG Magazine

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The New Working Class Hero by Chad

I love the unknown band. I should define that better: I love the good, decent, hardworking, unknown band. The band that is content to avoid the games and all the uphill struggle of musical popularity and actually, dare I write it, stay true to their music. It’s an idea that every band throws around, but it always ends up on the van floor with all the cigarette butts, half-stale cookies and a week’s worth of dirty laundry.

I love the good, unknown band that knows no matter how many nights spent in the safety of a well-lit Wal-Mart parking lot, eating out of dumpsters, that their music is solid, albeit undiscovered. They aren’t dependant on the rest of us to tell them that they’re good at making music.

All us fringe music lovers have our own favorite unknown band and among them, Surrogate is my favorite. Surrogate spent three weeks on Emery’s acoustic tour this summer and to date, their Myspace still has fewer than 1,000 friends. It’s not that they’re unpopular; it’s just that they don’t have to be. Chris, the lead singer is perfectly content to live in his trailer home outside Chico shooting clay pigeons and drinking Newcastle’s with his friends. He knows he’s good at music; he just doesn’t need us to validate him. He’ll surface every few years and record another brilliant album and hopefully tour on it for a few weeks like a modern-day Townes Van Zandt. Chris’s CD comes out next week on a semi-decent label, but it’s so different than what they usually put out that they’ve already forgotten it was their money that paid for production (money that Chris took and used to buy his own recording equipment and then proceeded to record the whole project in his living room).

They’re out there in almost every venue in America, my favorite unknown and yours. They get all the weeknights, all the Monday shows for gas money and maybe a place to stay. The new working-class hero is a musician in an unknown, unsuccessful band. And we love them for it. Someone has to do it. We’re glad it’s not us. We want to sleep in our own beds and drive cars that actually have air conditioning. We’ll know who they are though and we’ll always be there to buy another pity t-shirt.

Chad,
promoter, Solid Ground Cafe
www.myspace.com/sgcafe

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Henry Rollins and X by Jennifer Heaney

Last fall I saw the Henry Rollins Band open for X at the Depot. I must say that it was so nice to see Henry Rollins hangin' in there in his 40's. He paced the stage like a caged animal, crouching down and rocking violently back and forth while he spewed social, political and brilliant songs out onto the electrified audience. It seemed odd that he would choose to open for X, as it appeared most people were there to see Henry. X was good, but by the time they got up on stage and started performing, those of us who grew up with Rollins and were in the same age range as him were about ready to call it a night. He's coming back to the Depot this October to perform spoken word, and I am very excited about seeing him live again. I wonder if he'll talk like he sings...wearing only black knee-length shorts. I'll keep my fingers crossed.

--Jennifer Heaney

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The Juliana Theory, by Sara Monroe

I get a lot of flack for having liked The Juliana Theory so I cannot believe I agreed to share this with the 24tix.com audience. Looking back, however, I may not be where I am today if it hadn't been for them.

Here goes:

The Juliana Theory (TJT) was the key that unlocked the door to underground music scene for me and my spiritual awakening. Before them it was N'SYNC, and the Backstreet Boys and anything else that was "POP." I liked what was fed to me by the mainstream music industry. I'd known nothing else. I didn't know music could be so real, so pure, and so intense. How could anyone make me feel these emotions I was having from a show I saw, more like, was dragged to, in the 4-car garage that is Kilby Court 7 years ago?

I first heard The Juliana Theory in my friend's car. As we drove around I'd become vaguely familiar with songs like “Duane Joseph” and “Music Box Superhero” from their 'Understand This is a Dream' album. A couple weeks later my friend said TJT was going to be performing in Salt Lake. She wanted me to come with her. I wasn't sure if I really wanted to go but I eventually caved in at her pleading.

We pulled up to the venue that is Kilby Court and I was a little shocked and thought she was joking. “There playing here?” I said, “This place looks kind of sketchy.” I'm sure there was an opener but I can't recall who it was. Then we watched as TJT set up their equipment on stage. We stared at them, gawking, as teenage girls tend to do when they think someone's cute. There were quite a few people there in that little garage. Probably 30 to 50 at least. (Nowadays that's nothing, but back then it seemed like a lot.) The music started and I didn't really know all the lyrics to the first couple of songs, but I observed the crowd and eagerly awaited a song I was more familiar with. Then “Duane Joesph” played . . . . . . .

That song was a real crowd pleaser. Everyone sang/screamed along . . . . “Tell your mom you need and day off, so we can play out in the rain” . . . . . I was jumping up and down and smiling and as I looked around I realized that I was among people who shared in my same feelings towards this band, this music, this energy.

Religion and spirituality, when you're a teenager, is a confusing place. At this show, I felt like I belonged. I felt that no one was judging me. No one was telling me what to believe. I could sing and scream just as loud as the rest of them. I was amazed that I could find this kind of love and camaraderie in this shack-of-a-place (Kilby) and among people I didn't even know. We were all there for the same reason; the music.

When they played “Music Box Superhero” and the lead singer ,Brett Detar, held on to the rafters with one hand and held out the microphone with the other to let the crowd in the back know they were part of this song too . . . . “and I can never be the apple of your eye, the story of your life is what's inside” . . . . I was hooked.

When the show was over, the band asked if anyone had a place for 6 guys to crash before heading off to their next town. Being the naïve girl I was at the time, my jaw dropped. My mind was racing, I thought to myself - “You mean to tell me that these guys just played their hearts out and made me feel like I might be figuring out who I am and what is important to me and they don't even have a place to stay???!!!!!” I couldn't believe it. I begged my friend to let them stay at her house. But she was living with her aunt at the time and we both knew that wasn't going to go over well. We were too young to have boys that we didn't even know staying at our house anyway. I mean, come on, this is Utah, I was 16, and I lived in Bountiful.

We nervously thanked them for a wonderful show and played their CD in the car as we drove home.

Music has been a part of my life ever since.

For what this band and Kilby unknowingly did for me I am forever grateful. From the people I've met to the opportunities in jobs, social and love life, I'm indebted.

Sara Monroe,
Manager - 24tix.com

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Big Business by Shon

It had just started snowing when Trent and I left the house for Kilby Court. I hadn't been to a show at Kilby in at least a year, and honestly wasn't looking forward to standing outside in the snow while catching up with folks I hadn't seen in a while. But the snow slowed to a gentle pace by time we arrived, making the night air quiet and still.

I was never a huge fan of Karp or Murder City Devils (precursors to Big Business), but was very familiar with their music. I'd listened to Big Business a bunch on Pandora and at the house and loved the brutal passion that Big Business brought to their music. Simple and straight ahead – two dudes, bass and drums. I've always dug the huge sounds that can come from smaller lineups like Husker Du, The Minutemen, Early Man, etc. Tonight I was going to witness this sparse twosomes noise first-hand.

After watching Form of Rocket stumble through a noisy set, a good amount of the audience filtered out of Kilby, never to return. As the Form of Rocket five-piece tore down, the much slimmer Big Business two-piece set up their drum kit and bass stack. Within minutes, the remaining audience members were closing in on the stage to see the headliners.

Jared began their set whistling the intro to "O.G.". From the moment the whistling ended until the end of the show, the room was filled with Coady's franticly tight drumming and Jared's thick fuzzed bass and powerful screams.

Not since the last time I saw Murder City or Mike Watt had I'd seen a band play as tight as Big Business. Their shit was TIGHT. Coady swings his arms behind the kit so wildly that you can't figure out how he's even hitting the drums - rocking it with his entire body. And, for as thunderous the sound from Jared's bass, you can't figure out how he's not attacking with more force. Seriously, his sound is as big as Cliff Burton era Metallica, but he maintains poise.

The thunder, the frantic and the screaming somehow come together as both a giant fuzz and a crisp song. The dichotomy of these two people, and their associated sounds, rumble the room and leave everybody's ears ringing. By the end of their set, Big Business was drenched in sweat (even in the cool winter Kilby Court), having played their asses off to the small appreciative audience.

When I left that night and returned to the silent, snowy night, I could still feel Big Business in my belly. And that feeling has never left.

Big Business will be playing at Liquid Joes on Wenesday, Aug. 1. 24tix.com isn't selling tickets for the show, so don't look for it on the site. But I'll be there to see one of my favorite bands destroy.

--Shon

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Iron & Wine + Calexico by Dainon Moody

It needs to be said and it may as well happen now: Calexico and Iron & Wine could very well conquer the world together. Perhaps musically. Perhaps not. Each band does pretty all right on its own – Joey Burns with his mariachi horns and Tex-Mex sway and Sammy Beam with his banjo, sister and a whisper – but together? Magical. Who would have thunk it? Anybody who's tapped into their combined efforts on In the Reins in the last few months is who. But, as is too often the case for somewhat magic moments caught on an album (or EP, as is the case here), it takes experiencing them live to understand why they even tried their hand at this in the first place. They done did throw-down amazing.

At their stop in Salt Lake City (In the Venue, Monday), they gave plenty. That goes for everyone. They gave all they had to give and nobody – no fan, seasoned or budding – could have asked for more. It was everything anybody could have expected it to be. Okay, so few, if any, expected the hippy-dippy Iron & Wine guitarist to open things up by noodling away instrumental after instrumental, dotted with Sam Beam originals for the wariest of listeners. But it provided a pleasant background – the onstage version of elevator snoozak – as the place filled, filled and kept filling s'more.

If you include him – which, for the sake of argument, we will – we received no less than four concerts in one evening. That's some serious bang for your buck. Consider the trend of including no less than 2-3 bands along with the main event at concerts. Consider then the fact (yes, fact!) that neither is ever really that good. To combat that, Calexico played a set all on its own (2), followed by another with Iron & Wine (3), joining forces for a finale (4). This was the kind of musical night you didn't tire of.

Calexico delivered. It sounded much, much better than what Salt Lake got about a year ago when it opened for Wilco. Remember that? The combination of fuzzy microphones and overall bad sound meant no real words got heard, but the horns were loud and proud. This year we got understandable words with our songs and horns! Happy day! Judging from Monday's show, Calexico is clearly a band that deserves more than opening for others already; this may be the tour that pushes it over that hump. And it's been a long time coming. Songs like “Yours and Mine”, “Guero Canelo” and “Jesus and Tequila” were played over an ongoing screen of rodeo sequences and black-and-white wild horses. If you're going to be from Tucson, you may as well scream it with pictures of the wild open West.

Singer-guitarist Burns plays the morose card perfectly, marrying what comes out as sad sack vocals with the sound and feel of a slightly-inebriated mariachi band, one that's fighting to stay on its feet and play one final song. Nobody's doing it and nobody will be doing it again soon and, well, there you have it – they're category creators. Beware of the followers.

It wasn't surprising that a bulk of the crowd seemed more intent on hearing the Iron & Wine. Goes down nicer. Once Beam took the stage – along with his sister Sarah and the aforementioned guitarist – it took just two songs (“Sunset Soon Forgotten”, “Muddy Hymnal”) before the crowds started to hone in on his quietude, moths to his flame. But, instead of the continuous slow burn most expected – and got, too, in extend-o-doses – Beam took to rocking out as he felt like doing so. And he did.

“Jezebel” got the jangle treatment, as did many others in the 11-song set. The best part about it, though? Easily the stripped-down version of “The Trapeze Swinger.” This is a song you lose bladder control over. It's over nine minutes of image after image – like six poems smashed into one, each just bleeding from one into the next. He covers the circus, God and Lucifer and love, for starters. Just when you think it's going to end, it doesn't … and gets better in the process. Just the fact he could get through that mishmash and remember all the words is reason enough for applause. It caused grown men to hold their breath all during it and yell out that they loved him afterwards.

Sam and crew didn't get much of a breather between the time they ended and started up again with Calexico in tow. Once they all got settled, however, In the Reins was presented in its entirety. Their two bands made up 10 people trying to get by on a stage that was longer than it was wide. This meant four guitars (one being a lap slide), a couple drummers, a xylophone, a tambourine and, hey, did we mention there were horns before? Again, it made more sense with them right in front of your face doing it than it did (does?) on their disc. The elements just shine brighter there, what, with their Tex Mex and jazz and blues and folk and old-fashioned rock. You can't put a name on it. Calexico brought the country (and accordion) out of Iron & Wine on “Prison on Route 41” and the tables turned when Burns quieted way down for an appropriately haunting take on “Dead Man's Will”. Sometimes the voices would blend so well that one singer would take to changing his own up just to distinguish himself from the other.

As for covers, well, the Velvet Underground's “All Tomorrow's Parties” will likely never sound the same – and the xylophone pounding throughout will be ringing in our ears a long, long time still. As for “Wild Horses” (originally done by the you-know-who's), it bested the original. It made you forget someone else even recorded it in the first place, something every good cover ought to do anyway. Hardly a straight take on what came before it, it was the Stones with boogie-beat breaks between verses. Somebody get these guys on the jam rock circuit, stat!

--Dainon Moody

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Secret Remedy by Quinn Allman, guitarist for The Used

Concerts and live music have always been pretty fun for me. There always seems to be a new experience surrounding getting there, being there, finding a way home or pressing on to another setting. Plus going to shows has always been a secret remedy for me. Ever since I was able to attend shows whether at a venue or house party i've found that the effect is very life affirming. Feeling the energy not just from the music coming through you but from the room and the people who you share space and time with for that moment is very special. Unlike other forms of entertainment, at a concert you are trapped in the moment there, vulnerable and without rules. No matter what happens whether you leave the show inspired, feeling lifted or with a splitting headache, you were as much a part of the moment and alive with the sound as the music itself. A good concert will stay with you your entire life and augment you in ways you never knew you could feel.

Quinn Allman
The Used

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fIREHOSE by Dan Nailen

The most memorable concerts aren't the arena-sized gigs. The ones that stick out most are the tiny, sweaty shows at long-gone places like the Speedway Cafe or The Painted Word, or more recently at Kilby Court or The Urban Lounge. And, if pressed for my fondest concert memory in Salt Lake City, it has to be fIREHOSE at the Speedway Cafe, circa 1989.

fIREHOSE was my favorite band at the time, and I still worship at the altar of Mike Watt, a true punk legend and arguably the nicest guy in the music biz. The show stands out for a few reasons. The place was packed, as the band's shows always were in Salt Lake. I spent the entire gig in the front row, holding on for dear life to one of the stage monitors at Watt's feet while a few hundred people pushed forward as Watt, drummer George Hurley and guitarist Ed from Ohio did their thing. At one point, an air duct over the stage blew open, dropping a metal screen to the floor and sending a huge gust of wind onto Watt, who didn't miss a note. I've talked to a lot of people through the years who were at the show and they all seem to remember that exact moment as well.

Almost 20 years later, fIREHOSE is long gone and Watt is playing with The Stooges between solo albums. But hanging on the wall at my oh-so-grownup house, I still have my ticket stub from the show, one of Watt's bass strings busted during the course of the gig and that night's set list, autographed by the band backstage for a 17-year-old fanboy.

Dan Nailen writes for The Salt Lake Tribune and In Utah This Week. You can read his blog at http://blogs.sltrib.com/nightlife/.

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Fugazi by Levi Lebo

Fugazi
Huntridge Theater
Las Vegas, NV
5/1999

I guess Fugazi is the cornerstone in music for me. I can't think of many other bands that have had an impact like them. It's one thing to read about a band, and own a bands records, but it's a whole other experience to grow up with a band as that band is growing up. For me, Fugazi really embodies the true spirit of music, and that's why this particular experience is dear to me.

When my friends and I heard that Fugazi wouldn't be playing in Salt Lake on this tour, but would be in Vegas, we knew that missing this band when they were so close would be a crime. When you road trip, all kinds of things come out of your personality that don't at home. When your going to see a band, a joy and relaxation comes over you that is rare in any other experience. So we let it all out. I'm not sure there was a moment on the entire trip where I wasn't smiling or laughing.

The show was the pinnacle of the trip. This particular tour was in support of the End Hits record. I believe they played close to 2 hours worth of material from every record up to that point. Fugazi shows were marathons. Bands sweat on stage, but not quite like Fugazi. The genuine appreciation they have for there fans is quite possible unmatched by any artist ever. If you came to see them play, they give you everything. And that night I got everything I was looking for. I wanted to be a part of what they were giving, and it made me want to give back. To me, that's a defining experience in life.

I'm thankful that I have had the fortune to be able to see so many great and influential bands. Its the reason behind my drive for creating my own art. It's what has made art and ideas flourish. Grow up with the bands you love. Get inspired, and inspire.

Levi Lebo
Rose Black
& The New Transit Direction

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Smashing Pumpkins by Jake Hawley

Music is a very powerful thing, it's involved in most everything most of us do and seeing it performed live makes it even more personal. There is nothing better than seeing a band you love play live. They can make you feel just as connected to the songs as they are.

I got to see Smashing Pumpkins play the Gorge Amphitheater in George, WA in summer of '94. I was fresh out of high school and 700 miles from home. It was a great trip. The band was absolutely amazing. They played all the songs I wanted to hear and they played them differently than the album versions. Adding little (sometimes very long) pieces of musical magic throughout their set made it a special experience you could only get by being there. Seeing a band like that outdoors on a summer night really was a life changing experience. That was 13 years ago and it is still something I think about . It was a great night.

Jake Hawley
The New Transit Direction

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