Just a quick last-minute reminder for our fellow Comic-KHAAANNNgoers: Nadya, Zoetica and Meredith will be selling and signing copies of Coilhouse 05 from 11am to noon today (Saturday, July 24th) at the Weta booth (#2165 2615). We’ll also bring along copies of 1-4 for folks to peruse, but not to buy, sorry! (Sincerely, we don’t mean to be teases– we figure folks will appreciate at least having a look at these rare, out-of-print editions.) However, everybody should stay tuned to this same bat-channel for news of an upcoming charity auction wherein a full set of Coilhouse Magazines (issues 1-5) will be sold off to the highest Ebay bidder. More on that later this week.
Meanwhile, check out Zo and Mer geeking out with LA WEEKLY columnist Liz Ohanesian about SDCC! Nadya was supposed to participate as well, but was found lying in a crumpled heap next to her laptop shortly before the deadline, unconscious, with an erratic pulse and her responses unfinished. We figure she was either asphyxiated by one of those uber-deadly roving Funyuns nerdfart doom clouds, or sustained internal injuries after being jabbed by a facehugger-on-a-stick. She’s still pretty out of it, but don’t worry– we’re sure she’ll be fine by tomorrow morning. Hope to see some of you there!
And so, with a melange of yellow cards, red fury and vuvuzela farts, the World Cup has come to a close. In adjunctive honor of the ensuing global FIFA spaz-out, here’s the raddest Swedish synthpop football anthem ever made, courtesy of Tyskarna Från Lund. (Extra points of awesomeness for that Nina Hagen reference.)
Presented here without commentary is this clip of from 1991’s “25 Year Mission” tour, in which Leonard Nimoy relates the story of how the cruel and unscrupulous William Shatner stole his bike.
ROLL CALL. Who among our readers has a vinyl toy addiction? We know you’re out there, setting aside monthly Kid Robot allowances, religiously reading JUXTAPOZ, chuckling appreciatively at the inclusion of a Nathan Jurevicius figurine in Splice, etc.
You’ll be interested to know about an independent feature film exploring the American vinyl toy movement, its creators and collectors, called The Vinyl Frontier. Directed by Daniel Zana, it’s the first comprehensive documentary on the subject. Via Spread Art Culture:
Brilliantly shot on location [over the course of several years] in studios, homes, convention centers, and offices around the country, The Vinyl Frontier is sure to be a favorite in this year’s festival season. Featuring such heavy hitters as Tristan Eaton, Ron English, Gary Baseman, Dalek, Frank Kozik, Tim Biskup, and many more.
The Vinyl Frontier will be having its world premiere at the San Francisco Frozen Film Festival (July 2-3) at the Roxie Theatre. Tickets are available for Friday, July 2, 8PM (an array of artists involved with the film will be in attendance after screening to take part in an audience Q&A) or Saturday, Jul 03, 9:20 PM.
That has to be the single most impractical, exhausting, adorable combination of bicycle components EVAR. His brass clown horn is the big honkin’ cherry on top.
Several more squee-making wackywheel-related items of possible interest:
Good morning, loves. How was your weekend? I spent most of mine stumbling around the San Mateo county fairgrounds, gaping at the endlessly astonishing/inspiring/overstimulating 2-day geextravaganza that is Maker Faire. Still feeling a bit fried. Pleasantly so. Speaking of getting fried at Maker Faire, here’s a glimpse of what the ArcAttack! performances on the appropriately named “Tesla Stage” looked and sounded like:
Yes. That’s what a man in chain mail wrangling pure lightning looks like. His name is Patrick “Parsec” Brown. He’s ArcAttack’s MC. I sincerely hope that dude gets hella laid. That goes for ALL the guys on the ArcAttack crew. Way more groupie worthy than the average rock band, if you ask me.
Based in Austin, Texas, ArcAttack’s been developing their tech and stage shows for the better half of a decade now. For their astounding audio/visual displays, ArcAttack has invented a completely original DJ setup:
HVDJ pumps music through a PA system while two specially designed DRSSTC’s (Dual-Resonant Solid State Tesla Coils) act as separate synchronized instruments. These high tech machines produce an electrical arc similar to a continuous lightning bolt and put out a crisply distorted square wave sound reminiscent of the early days of synthesizers.
ArcAttack performing the Doctor Who theme song at Maker Faire, 2010. Photo by darthdowney.
First and foremost, ArcAttack is all about putting on a show that is not just a concert, but an otherworldly experience. In doing so with the technology that we’ve created, we hope to inspire minds, the young and the old, to take up an interest in science, the arts, and their applications, to examine where they intersect, where they are going, and to re-examine the works of past researchers and performers such as Nikola Tesla and Delia Derbyshire in light of the ever evolving face of this amazing world. Maybe they’ll have as much fun as we have. But either way, we want them all to enjoy the show, and maybe, just maybe, be inspired to help to leave the world a little better than the way they found it.
Are you awake yet? Are you in love yet? Many more ArcAttack clips after the jump.
Weirdness and misogyny this week on The FAM as we present 1987’s The Confessions of Robert Crumb produced by the BBC (which includes the wonderful Arena opening and song. Seriously, I love that intro.) Unlike 1994’s Crumb by Terry Zwigoff (which is seeing a Criterion release this August) Confessions is less concerned with Crumb’s bizarre family and more concerned with the man himself. In that regard it spends much of its time letting Crumb explore and contemplate his objectification of women and self-loathing, preferring to be a catalog of the man’s various fetishes, to merely witness a day in the life of a dirty old man.
Both documentaries illustrate how difficult it can be to separate the artist from their art. A great fan of his work I can’t help but cringe as Crumb displays his current wife to the camera, showing off her musculature as if he were trying to sell the viewer a horse. It is, perhaps, admirable that one would be able to be so honest with the world, willing to expose one’s Id to whoever passes by, and it has certainly worked out well for Robert Crumb. I just can’t help but think that those images made living, breathing flesh are not nearly as entertaining when not on the printed page.
“Do you want to be a nicer person? Are you looking for inspiration to do good things? Well keep looking. But if you’re into opening up terrifying vistas of reality then the Esoteric Order of the Old Ones and Cthulhu Cultists want to help. Contact us today to find out how.”
Just a quick li’l internugget of ZOMGWTFBBQ for ya:
Via Medina, via Gooby, who says, “the first time I saw [Pleaseeausaur] live I didn’t know what I was getting into, and I gave myself an intestinal disorder from laughing so hard.”
As of an hour ago, I knew next to nothing about JP Hasson, but the first 12 seconds of this clip just earned JP a lifetime fan in me. Further research indicates that Hasson’s been hugely influenced by the Dead Milkmen and is a croney of Neil Hamburger‘s, Tim & Eric‘s, and Rob Crow‘s. I’m basically having multiple instantaneous nerdgasms over here. Wouldn’t you love to see this guy collaborate with Liam Lynch (of Sifl & Olly fame), or maybe Cal Worthington and his dog Spot?!
Last weekend, I ventured to a fundraising bash at the gargantuan, labyrinthine Vulcan complex in industrial Oakland. Coilhouse correspondent Neil Girling has aptly described the bohemian warehouse collective as “something of a dollhouse mixed with a rabbit warren.” Magical place. The folks over there literally just finished building out their new Vulcan Theater wing. Tons of gonzo musical acts and DJs came out to help them raise some cash and celebrate: Thee Hobo Gobbelins, David Satori of Beats Antique, Totter, Sour Mash Hug, various Vau de Vire Society performers, Sisters of Honk, Gooferman, Barry Syska, and a band I’d never heard of before, Tornado Rider:
From the back of the crowded room, I watched the butch-yet-elfin trio set up their gear and line check. Warming up, drummer Scott Manke and bassist Graham Terry displayed precise and prodigious punk/metal chops and sported broad, welcoming smiles. Bad asses, both. They were soon joined by singer/cellist Rushad Eggleston, who wore a Robin Hood cap with hot pink lightning bolts adhered to it, a matching pair of exercise shorts, lime green tights, sneakers, and little else.
Two words sum up Eggleston’s persona succinctly: delightfully implausible. His countenance and physique are a bit like Frodo Baggins’… that is, if Frodo was hella manic, worked out a lot and washed down his lembas bread with entire crates of Volt High Performance Energy Drinks.
Eggleston plugged his axe (lav mic’d, plastered with day-glo stickers, guitar strapped) into a batch of effects pedals and let loose with a string of arpeggiations that could leave no doubt: this fella had been classically schooled out the wazoo, but long since abandoned baroque, powdered wig fare for PURE UNTRAMMELED RAWKNESS.
Tornado Rider launched fists first into a blazing 40 minute set that peaked with a song called “I’m a Falcon”. Manke and Terry provided thunderous vamping as Eggelston leaped from the stage, scaled the wall with his cello slung over his shoulder and perched, teetering, on the balcony railing to rock out, howling “I’M A FALCON. I’M A FALCON. YEAH… THE FASTEST BIRD ALIVE. THE MASTER OF THE SKY. YEEAAHHYUH!” Here’s a clip of that same song performed at the Magnolia Festival a while ago. Eggleston took the madness a step further, launching into a tuneful, shredding solo while hanging upside down from the ceiling:
Eggleston’s jaw-dropping climb begins about 4 minutes in.
Guys, you really need to see this shit live. It’s raw, joyful, silly, gorgeous virtuosity. Go. Seriously. GO. Dance. Get your asses rocked and grin until your faces hurt. You won’t regret it, I promise. Tornado Rider is touring all over the States this year, with more dates in the works for Europe at some point down the line. Deep southerners, a heads up to you especially– they’ll be playing the fuck of Florida this week and next. GO. GO. GO. GO. And a very good morning to you all.
