Suspirians Song Premiere for “Moonwave”


We’ve seen it before. Sardines praise God when the key twists the tin back. The wind blows the long brown locks of the prisoner’s hair as he breathes the fresh blue air. Out in the plains, the clouds break up. Now we’re free.

Coastline, coasting, cruising, streamline, airborne, horizon. Talking vast talk. When did the scope of rock move from the dance hall to the big round ball? Suspirians might know. We’ll have to get to command center first to find out where their transmission is coming from. Right now, out in the plains, their transmission is deafening. Some of that universal surround sound must have bounced off a canyon somewhere.

The eyes see you. The eyes are everywhere, orbitting; they all belong to the same entity. Image is conveyed to the command center, turning vision into Big Sound, an earthly and epic sound.

Vitamin D in the dirt; the wheels shoot the dirt through the window and into your mouth like Skittles. Don’t have to stop moving to take a leak. The sky is hot blue but turning white, brighter and brighter. 93 mph. The road pushes the bumper, the light pulls the fender. Behind the wheel, you do very little to contribute to the journey except root around for your lost pair of sunglasses and eat dirt.

The Suspirians are Marisa Pool, Stephanie Demopulos and Lisa Cameron. Their second album, Ti Bon Ange (Super Secret Records) will be released June 9.

Recap From Austin Jukebox #7 Part Two 5/20/2017

Again, thank you to everyone who came out to Austin Jukebox 7 tonight (and yesterday)! The overwhelming support, appreciation, and kindness you all have expressed to us these last few days makes all the hard work that goes into making these shows reality more than worth it.

Austin Jukebox 7 is our first time to do a double header, back-to-back event. This allows us to bring you TWICE the mix of great bands each quarter! And tonight the greatness was in no short supply – local noise-rock band Coma in Algiers got things started with a near sold out crowd while local blues punk group The Crack Pipes, playing for the first time in a while, debuted some new material and got everyone pumped for the main event. We welcomed Pere Ubu back to Austin (their only US show for 2017 and their first time back in Austin in around 20 years!) to thunderous applause and singing along from an incredibly enthusiastic crowd. Local jazz greats Ingebrigt Haker Flaten and Dave Rempis rounded out the night with a delightful improv late set.

Here are a few photos from the night. As always, feel free to tag us or share your photos to our Facebook page! Pere Ubu photos are credit to either Mike Fickel (first two) or Chad Kappeler (last three).

Austin Chronicle Recommends Austin Jukebox #7

(Originally posted here)

Quin Galavis “The Battery Line” Album Review From Beehive Candy

(Originally posted here)

Quin Galavis — Question.

Background – Quin Galavis has been an active participant in the Austin music scene for the last fifteen years. A founding member of critically acclaimed bands The Dead Space, and False Idol, Quin also performs under his own name.

His sophomore solo album, 2016’s immersive, ambitious double-LP, My Life in Steel and Concrete, appeared on multiple end-of-year top ten lists and was spotlighted in an Austin Chronicle feature story.

The record’s soundscape is as varied and challenging as the themes it explores, and it features a host of Austin’s diverse musical elite: Thor Harris (Swans/Shearwater), Sabrina Ellis (Sweet Spirit/A Giant Dog), Graham Low (A Giant Dog), and Ian Rundell (Ghetto Ghouls), to name a few.

June 16th he’ll release his third LP, The Battery Line, (Super Secret Records) which will be supported with local shows, and an album tour. Bandcamp here.

One of ten tracks on ‘The Battery Line’ album and ‘Question’ is a good example of what to expect with this new collection of material. A constant flow of alt or indie rock songs where delivery is tight and paced, the expertise is there in abundance, as are some finely penned songs.

Recap From Austin Jukebox #7 Part One 5/19/2017

First, a huge thank you to everyone who made it out for part one of Austin Jukebox #7! None of what we do would be possible without your support and encouragement.

Austin Jukebox was started with the idea of bridging multiple genre gaps by putting vastly musically different bands together on one stage with one large headlining act topping the bill. In many cases, the headlining act has been a “no way!” group, either because this is their first show together in years or they usually play significantly larger venues. To help advance everyone’s discovery of new genres and bands at these events, the cover has always remained $5. And just to sweeten the deal even more, we’ve always been adamant to keep Austin Jukebox at Beerland, a venue that has provided us much support, encouragement, and advice over the years and supplies a fantastic intimacy with a capacity of about 200 people.

Night one of Austin Jukebox #7 maintained this spirit as we welcomed performances from local bands Will Courtney & The Wild Bunch and ST 37. Headlining things for us on this fine Friday night was the legendary reincarnation of Cleveland protopunk outfit Rocket From The Tombs (complete with a guest appearance from Cheetah Chrome himself). Local favorites Horne + Holt (Jonathan Horne and Randall Holt) wrapped the evening up with our unique late set offering.

Here are a handful of photos from the night. Feel free to share or tag us in your photos and videos from tonight! All Rocket From The Tombs photos are credit of Mike Fickel.

Interview with Pere Ubu/Rocket From the Tombs’s Dave Thomas

Secret Culturalist Dave Thomas

Pere Ubu/Rocket From the Tombs frontman tag teams ATX

This weekend, Pere Ubu and Rocket From the Tombs cram into Beerland for local imprint Super Secret Records’ Austin Jukebox series. Dubbed the Coed Jail tour, the pairing of Cleveland rock legends marks the return of Rocket after an incendiary Emo’s show in 2003, and the first time Ubu’s graced a Lone Star stage in two decades.

We spoke to Ubu/Rocket leader David Thomas from his London home via a patchy Skype connection.

Dave Thomas

Austin Chronicle: It’s been over 20 years since Pere Ubu last played Texas. What took you so long to come back?

David Thomas: The problem with Texas is that it’s in the middle of the country. And we tend to, for practical reasons, play just the East and West coast, and maybe a little bit South on the east side of the country. That’s the problem with Texas and Minneapolis: It’s just a long way from there to the next place.

AC: You haven’t done a back-to-back Rocket and Ubu stand since 2003. Are there any big challenges doing two different shows with two different bands?

DT: I wouldn’t want to do it too much. Too many songs, too much stuff to remember. But in rare times, in rare events, it’s OK.

AC: Pere Ubu has never been a nostalgia act. Rather, it’s always been a forward-thinking band. Do you mind doing shows that focus on the past?

DT: No. I mean, I wouldn’t make a career out of it. We don’t sit there and do these things faithfully and try to duplicate everything that we did. We’re able to play them pretty much the way they were meant to be played, just because Pere Ubu songs are essentially very simple.

And it’s enjoyable!

A lot of the modern members haven’t had a chance to play the old stuff, and they like doing it. I like doing it. They’re not old songs to me. They’re part of a continuous path. It’s not something we’re gonna do forever, unless you’ve got $30,000 you wanna throw around.

AC: You touched on this already, but you have new musicians in the band all the time, and you mentioned that since they didn’t play on the old stuff originally, they love playing it, which helps keep it fresh. And you still like the old songs anyway.

DT: Believe me, I’m the one that’s played “Final Solution” for 40 years. It can get a bit rough after a while. But it’s like, “Cool, all right,” y’know? You’re not having to sit there while the bass player or the drummer is playing the same damn thing you’ve heard for 20 years. It’s different, so that’s exciting.

AC: I’ve read that you said music should have a regionalism to it. You’ve got members from England and the United States –

DT: And Germany.

AC: What regionalism is Pere Ubu?

DT: Well, it’s actually kind of a good question. Since the early Eighties, I’ve lived in a ghost town. Cleveland itself became a ghost town at that point. Everywhere is a ghost town, in ways. The good thing about a ghost town being your home is that a ghost town goes wherever you go [chuckles]. It’s with you always.

I know that may sound sort of glib, but that’s pretty much how it is. I’m buying a loaf of bread from a grocery store that no longer exists, but I’m used to that sort of thing. The city I grew up in doesn’t exist. That’s not unique to me. Many people, when I explain the nature of ghost towns, find a resonance there. “Yeah, I live in a ghost town, too.” That’s the answer.

Even as a Platonic ideal, it’s perfect. It’s like the lost Smile album by Brian Wilson. I was really disappointed when they tried to re-record it. The album was perfect because it didn’t exist except in your imagination. I had all the bootlegs, and the beauty of it was that, because the songs only exist in multiple takes and things, I can assemble those things in my head, and it’s there in a perfect state.

That was the brilliance of Brian Wilson. Whether he meant it to be that way or not isn’t the issue. It’s never been equaled and probably never will be, because of the nature of things, but it was perfect because it didn’t exist. It’s the same with a ghost town. It’s perfect.

AC: I visited your ghost town a few years ago. I was very surprised that at 5pm everything just… shut down.

DT: A ghost town, yeah! [laughs]

AC: It was really strange.

DT: No, that’s the way it was back then. We all lived downtown, and everybody would disappear. It was us, a bunch of young kids, we owned the town. It was like salvage or something. It’s like when you run across a derelict ship – you can claim it. So that had a lot to do with the deep sense of identity we had, because it was ours. Nobody else wanted it. They’d thrown it away.

AC: You’ve been very influential, but literally nobody sounds like Pere Ubu.

DT: This is one of those canards or urban myths or something. Everyone says we’ve been very influential, but I don’t hear us in anybody. I’m honored that various high class/high visibility people have said that we were very influential, but I don’t know. I guess if I wanted to flatter myself, I’d say it’s the same way Captain Beefheart was influential. He was just so different, and he didn’t make any bones about it. He just went his own way.

So maybe that’s how we’re influential. I don’t know. I don’t care. I don’t sit here and go, “I’m influential.” I sit here and go, “I gotta clean the dishes.”

The pertinent issue is I don’t have an interesting life. I do one thing, and that’s make music. And none of that is ever seen. Even going out on stage, that’s already too late. I’ve already done it. No two of my shows are the same, but everything creative is going on inside my head, and I have a straight face that’s looking at you. Everything interesting is hidden. Culture is always hidden. It always happens in secret.

AC: That’s a great notion.

DT: I got a million of ’em.