photo by Daniel Boud

“Reggie Watts is a most unusual talent: a huge vocal range, a natural musicality, and a sidesplitting wit. Is he a comedian? A singer? A performance artist? I’ve seen him a few times since then and I still can’t decide. Whatever, he ain’t like nobody else.” – Brian Eno

“There’s no one out there like Reggie Watts. Reggie covers everything from ancient history and racism to pop-culture, in a heady mix of improvised music, comedy and social insight. This guy has to be seen to be believed.” –Time Out London

“Sharp, wry and elusive … Reggie moves seamlessly from skits to songs to off-kilter stand-up, while talking in a subway train full of accents.” – New York Times

NSFW

NYC, East Village, 2004: a sharp-tongued, bright-eyed comedic musical improv Situationist ninja named Reggie Watts began performing at Eugene Mirman‘s standup night at club Rififi. Beyond the close knit downtown outre NYC standup scene, or the Seattle music scene (where Watts lived in the 90s, performing in all manner of bands), few seemed to know too much about Watts at the time. Thank FUCK that’s changed. These days, the beatboxing Line 6 DL4 wizard is going viral online, opening for Coco, turning up on late night talk shows, winning awards, arranging avant-garde museum gigs, and touring his thoughtful, practiced, fully-actualized, genre-obliterating oddness all over the world. His latest album, Why Shit So Crazy?! drops on May 18th. Many more clips after the jump. Also see:

• Watts’ Tumblr, Twitter, Vimeo, Wiki
• Maktub
• Situationist International
• Dub FX: “Step on my Trip”

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:

via

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.

via

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.

Tons more T.R. clips after the jump.

Okay, so, obviously, this isn’t the first time the name Rachel Brice has shown up on Coilhouse. Nor will it be the last. (Which no one should mind too terribly, unless they’re allergic to amazingness.) Later this month, Bricey’s coming out with a new instructional DVD set, called Serpentine. This is awesome news for many reasons, least of which being that it offers an excuse to post this stunning photo of her, taken by Trinette Reed:

by Trinette Reed

Ever thought about trying to learn Tribal Fusion Style Belly Dance, or just improving upon your existing skill sets? Maybe you’d like to merge core-strengthening yoga into your practice? How about being able to safely bend over backwards at close to a 90 degree angle… or maybe just feeling really solid and present and lovely in your own bones? If yes, then this is a woman to watch and learn from.

Heck, even if you DON’T want to try this at home, this is a woman to watch and to learn from, because decades of devotion to both her yoga and her dance practice has gifted Rachel with a level of grace and serenity that is deeply gratifying to observe. Whether she’s regally dolled up and performing, or breaking down isolation drills in workshop scrubs, R.B. is incandescent:

Serpentine is currently available for pre-order from World Dance New York for $24.98.

Who here likes pronk* music? Who here even knows what pronk means? I didn’t, until Cardiacs blew my feeble mind.

Pronk = progressive + punk. Formed in 1977, the UK-based band (led by gibbering genius Tim Smith) is one of those “what the holy fucking shitballs is going on here” bands that 99.3% of humanity will have no idea what to do with, and the remaining .7% will want to kiss with tongue and worship and marry and make little psychedelic math rock babies with forever and ever, amen.

*To be fair, Smith dislikes his music being pigeonholed as Pronk, preferring a label of “Psychedelic” or “Pop”. Forgive me, good sir, Pronk’s just so fun to say! Pronkity, pronk, pronk, pronk.

Click on one of those grimacing visages above to watch the official “Tarred and Feathered” music video… if you dare. Read more about Cardiacs here.

Hypothetically…

If there is indeed a heaven, treatment and Hasil Adkins and Lux Interior are hanging out together on some leopard-print porch swing up there, how much do you want to bet they play “rock, paper, shotgun” every morning to decide who gets the honor of guardian angel duty for this fella?

In the age of ultra-polished music videos featuring flawless human specimens in various stages of aggressive air-humping, we oft forget the common man. What about that guy behind 7-11, who claims to be a sailor, smells of fish, and gives you the stinkeye? What of uncle Merv, whose gravy-encrusted beard and consistent belligerence have become an almost-comforting staple at family gatherings? I for one, am tired of steely abs and tits on my screen [there are so many, all the time]. In the VonSwank-directed video below, justice is served as Josh Heironymous* represents the intrepid proletarian to the tranquil sound of “Into the Holes” by Lily Fawn. Sit back, relax, get your zen on and enjoy three minutes of a Real Man giving his all to the camera, the way you’ve always dreamed of.

*I note, not without triumph, that Joshua and I shared a Chicago apartment during my one year of college. I got to watch him do this all the time.

Related post: Our Top 10 Most Preternaturally Beautiful Men

Gadjo Disko was a notorious dance party that first took place at the Rhizome Collective in Austin, Texas in April of 2008. This past Saturday, we bade a sweaty, sparkly farewell to this be-spangled cavalcade of devoted Diskovites. Miraculously, our fake eyelashes stayed adhered despite our tears!

Miss Valerie Hemming (aka. Vas ist Das) and Wanda Kruda boogie down at the second Gadjo Disko.

Gadjo Disko was born from the restless minds of four storm-tossed former New Orleanians (myself, Mack Henson, Chesley Allen and Sarah King) who found ourselves part of the growing diaspora in Austin after Hurricane Katrina. We had put on extravagant events in New Orleans inspired by the Dada Balls of yore: Cabaret Revoltaire was a balls-out, full-contact, total-participation party that combined art, dance and performance without the restrictions of a passive audience. After the vagaries of the storm, we decided to pare it down and just do “a simple dance party”. Little did we know then what a behemoth our baby would become!

Tash Kouri of The Gyronauts.

Our Otesánek grew and grew until it encompassed and surpassed the boundaries of age, gender, ethnic background or cultural milieu. I’m not sure where else you might see 66 year old grannies (our amazing friend Beth, who danced at every single Disko) getting down on the dance-floor next to depraved trannies!

Sometimes coming up with an ensemble for the evening can prove challenging. When in doubt, go without! We always provided free entry to completely naked people.

I’ve traveled far and wide enough to know how rare it is to find a party that transcends any one scene, where burners, hipsters, nerds, punks, queers, goths and all the beautiful and (thankfully) unclassifiable freaks can get together without the least trace of pretension or scorn…

Lee Evil and Dougy Gyro in his “Nautilus” costume.

The tenth Edwardian Ball crept up upon us unawares, while we were still sleepy from holiday overeating and adjusting to our regular work schedules again. All of a sudden everyone seemed to say “This weekend? But I haven’t a costume!” And thus began the yearly scramble, with last-minute runs to the fabric store and safety pins carefully tucked away inside as-yet unfinished garments. The Edwardian Ball is one of those rare events where everyone–not just the performers and regulars–dons a costume. For some of us this means little more than our everyday wear, while others brainstorm for weeks.

A contact juggler amongst the revelers.

Her first album was titled Metropolis, its follow-up – The Arch Android. She has killer rock n’ roll androgyne style and addictive musical-theater-trained pipes. Oh, she also does live painting and has her own label, too. Yet somehow, I hadn’t heard of Janelle Monae before this video for her single Many Moons popped up on my screen last week.

As you can see, Metropolis is a concept album. Its fictional protagonist Cindi Mayweather finds herself in the year 2719 and on the run from android law, because she’s in love with a human. Monae’s next three albums will follow Mayweather’s adventures, some of them in space.

Yep, I’m in full swoon. Monae’s influences might be more than a little transparent, but I just don’t care – the combination is fresh and it’s pop. Great pop, at that. There’s space and robots and art and she’s adorable, but above all that, she gives answers like this in interviews:

I am driven by the need for change. I have had many nightmares about our future and if we do keep living the way we do, killing the way we do, hating ourselves the way we do, I do believe we are headed to the great road of nowhere. I know that I was put on this earth to lead, not to be perfect, but to lead and display a positive example and that is what I will die trying to do.

And I actually believe these aren’t just producer-polished words – Janelle is already working on starting a non-profit organization to help disadvantaged girls develop their artistic side. When, in light of a Grammy nomination, she was asked if she enjoyed being photographed and interviewed, she said, “Only when I have something to say. I’m not a red carpet gal. I wear a uniform for god’s sake! I have a hair machine I stick my head into. I have other duties to worry about.”

You hear that, pop culture? More of it, please. Also, I need a hair machine.

Katie, wherever you are, you have the best grandma EVAR:

Via Everything Is Terrible.

“Call me eccentric I haven’t a doubt
I’ll labeled a whole lot worse and far out
When I roll down a springtime grassy green hill
You think I won’t but I betcha I will
Cause I’m over 21 considerably
and I’ve earned the right to be no one but me.”