2013 has been a strange year for local music. Stranger than any other year I can remember. With the closing of old venues, the opening of new ones, and a radical shift in the presence of certain bands, DJ's, artists and acts, this period can best be described as transitionary. A weird, in between, with no predictable path; absent of anything linear. Why is this worth noting? I've always been a believer that great things (music, art, whatever) come out of struggle and uncertainty...often necessity. While it is unclear what these "things" are, or what it all means in the greater scheme of things, I think the present day is worth paying attention to.

In early 2013, we were confronted with the closing of some of Buffalo's most established independent venues. First came Mohawk Place, the long-standing, legendary venue which has hosted some equally legendary artists. Shortly thereafter Soundlab and Club Infinity announced they were closing up shop, and finally the Vault and the Funeral Home. Each of these venues represented something unique in the musical landscape of our city, and the blow was felt by all. There was alot of concern over the scene during this time and the question everyone wondered was where will these bands play now?

From death comes life though and I'm pleased to see alot of great DIY venues (if you want to call them venues) spring to life. From the Jungle Gym, Lair, Glitterbox, Flesh Temple to the newly established Ironworks and Gypsy Parlor, it's apparent that our musical slumber was only temporary. I'm especially optimistic about these great house shows, as I grew up going to Custer and Tyler shows, and I have a special place in my heart for this kind of thing. Buffalo is not a town of quitters, and our music scene is as vibrant as ever, regardless of the curveballs thrown at us.

I've noticed alot of variety recently that I haven't seen in years, at least in terms of style and substance. In the past year of two great artists such as Forealists, Space Wolves, Camp Counselors, JOHNS, and many others are each bringing something unique to the table. And we still have a ton of great bands that have been around for awhile like Chosen Ones, Irving Klaws, Gas Chamber, etc. etc. etc.

Where we go from here is unknown, but I am excited to see the path we're on. Change is good, and if I know anything about Buffalo it's that we're survivors and we'll find a way.

The other night, I had a discussion with a friend about our first concerts. Her first show was an embarassing boy band whose name I shall not reveal, for sake of reputation. My first show was Nirvana, a group that I take a certain pride in seeing, not only because it was my first show, but because it was also their last tour. I remember vividly the dark ambiance of that sweaty auditorium; the strange looking people with piercings and tattoos (I was 11). Most of all, I remember the power of those soundwaves, the weight of the music, and the passion in which it was conveyed; three musicians who truly believed in what they were doing. I was floored.

And then it hit me. That show was twenty years ago, November of 1993 to be exact. Where does the time go?

It seems like it was only a few years back that my life was changed by "grunge" or alternative rock, or whatever you want to call it. Groups like Nirvana, Stone Temple Pilots, and Alice in Chains were my first taste of rock'n'roll, at least on any meaningful level, and I was completely captivated by it. Through the years, my tastes have grown and I've developed an affinity for punk, electronic music, hip hop, and more traditional forms of music. Alternative rock has always been my foundation though and lately I've been thinking about this period of time and how it informed who I am today.

Most of all, I find myself amazed that some of my favorite albums are nearly two decades old. Nevermind came out 22 years ago, while Green Day's Dookie and Weezer's Blue Album will be twenty next year. These albums are now considered relics and have that "classic" tag ascribed to records that have stood the test of time. I remember them as fresh, new releases. Which leads me to this thought...

I can't explain the feeling of yesterday. At times, it seems so distant, like I was a whole other person altogether and I'm looking back on someone else's life. Other times, I'm right there. At the concert. In the moment. And it feels like I'm more connected to that time than the present. But it was sooooo long ago!

Time is a funny thing. Before you know it, the world has flown by and you're older, and the music you loved is no longer "cool", "interesting", or even "relevant". I'm only 31 and I'm already starting to feel this way. Consider this. Most of today's early twenty-something's weren't even born when Kurt Cobain committed suicide. He has now become our generations John Lennon; a mystical figure to the young-ins  and a cultural spokesperson for those who were there, living it at that moment. The irony is that you'll never get that moment back, and we are no longer so young. And those young people who ARE living it are either too preoccupied or oblivious to care. Youth truly is wasted on the young.

Rivers Cuomo once said "the world has turned and left me here". Sometimes I'm apt to believe that.

Today, Scrubs alum and all around white guy Zach Braff launched a Kickstarter campaign to fund a new film project titled Wish I Was Here. The $2,000,000 campaign is another in a long line of projects that the popular fundraising website has fostered since it's inception in 2009. The website began as a way for burgeoning artists of all kinds to find financial backing for projects that would otherwise go unnoticed. According to Braff, Wish I Was Here "is the story of Aidan Bloom (played by me) a struggling actor, father and husband, who at 35 is still trying to find his identity, a purpose for his life." Aside from the fact that Braff seems to be utilizing metaphors in the same way this CNN reporter does, it's a signifier of an alarming trend that has become prevalent in our crowd funded culture:

Kickstarter is being abused.

Much like SXSW, which started as a hub for emerging artists to get noticed before eventually being trampled to death by corporate interests yearning for indie credibility, Kickstarter has outgrown it's intended users. Considering the fact that no one pays for music anymore, it's become increasingly difficult for artists to not only make a living, but to even afford the insurmountable costs of producing new material. Buffalo based bands The Tins and Love Scenes have both successfully utilized Kickstarter to fund their most recent albums, producing original, forward thinking material in a town that's known for neither. For every Blissed Out Youth, however, there are countless Wish I Was Here's. A project like Braff's is insulting to up and coming artists because not only has Braff accumulated a significant amount of wealth during the 134 seasons of Scrubs, he's an award winning Director as well. Manic Pixie tendencies aside, the man has established himself in the arts community.

So why is this dangerous? The magnanimous side of me wants to allow fools to part with their money in any way they see fit. What these fools don't realize, however, is that Braff will likely sell his film at Sundance (another trampled indie festival) for well over $2 Million which, thanks to his Kickstarter campaign, will now be 100% profit. Do you still want to part with that $20 you desperately need for quaaludes? Defenders of Kickstarter will claim that this funding approach is an effective way to wipe out studio interference. Established author and Twitter loudmouth Bret Easton Ellis got his Canyons project off the ground and then some with Kickstarter. Their page cites that "we all experienced the frustrations of financing and institutional censorship. But now, with advances in digital photography and distribution, we can tell a story in the manner we choose". It reads like a rallying cry to break the shackles of money influenced ignorance, paving the way for provocative, thought provoking art. After checking out a scene from The Canyons, however, I'm inclined to accept that some scripts aren't meant to be greenlit.

Getting back to music, you can take the abuse of Kickstarter two ways. One: musicians are greedy ass holes, or Two: the state of the music industry is in such dire straits that even established artists can't make ends meet. Kickstarter funded albums seem like a direct result of a post Napster fanbase, unwilling to shell out cash for music. Instead, artists are asking fans to shell out cash they would normally use to buy the album ahead of time, with the promise of a copy given to them upon release (or other, more demeaning promises). This approach seems to make sense, and is proof that there is still a valid use for crowd funded campaigns. If bands can only score a profit by selling their music to Apple commercials, the least their fans can do is assist with their recording process to make that happen. The trouble comes with discerning the noble from the exploitative, it comes down to the user to decide who really deserves their hard earned money.

Speaking of which, this guy is raising funds to fight cancer, so there's that.

2013 hasn't been so great for the Buffalo music scene. In early January everyone's favorite venue and local haunt, the Mohawk Place, closed down its doors much to the shock and dismay of the WNY community. Enough has been said about this iconic landmark, although maybe it hasn't when you consider just how important that place was for music and for the people who celebrate it. It was home and we miss it.

Just today, it was announced that another WNY music venue, Club Infinity, will be closing its doors. Now, I am fully aware that a club like Infinity doesn't hold the same weight as the Mohawk Place. Not even close. But they have put on their fair share of great shows over the years. The Breeders, ETID, Flock of Seagulls (which was surprisingly amazing), and hosts of great local shows. Not to mention the ridiculously ridiculous (and awesomely fun) country line dancing night which has been a staple ever since that place called itself Howdee's years ago. The truth is that any venue that lasts more than a few years in this area is worth a write up...except for maybe Club Diablo. That place just sucked.

So farewell Club Infinity. We will miss you.

I'm not saying anything new in this post. Most of us were raised here or have lived here long enough to know that the cold, bleak, grey, (insert adjective), wind-and-snow heavy winters are soul crushing. Come winter we all need a little novocaine for the soul.

It's at these times I reach for a Sigur Ros LP or perhaps some Stone Roses. Other times, I'm downright pissed off and only metal or something aggressively aggressive will suffice. Why it is that winter seems to encompass all of those dark emotions like depression, anxiety, a longing for a time long since past, melancholy and anger? I don't have the answer. Seasonal Affective Disorder? The fact that we're blanketed by grey skies and constantly feel sick and shitty? Do I listen to pop music because I am miserable or am I miserable because I listened to pop music? You get the idea.

Sometimes I think I should just listen to ska or something. As preposterous as it is to listen to this kind of music during winter I can't help but smile every time I hear it. Now, I'm not the biggest ska fan in the world. I would never admit to that. My credibility would be shot (well, I guess it has been since I covered an ICP show). But you have to admit, as stupid as that music can be, you feel better when you listen to it. I could psychoanalyze why for day's, but I don't really feel like it.

Winter's not all bad. I welcome it after long, hot summers and cool falls. I just wish it would end after Christmas. Give me a white Xmas then move on.

What do you listen to during your hibernation months  What gets you through the days? Do you wallow in your own insignificance or have you figured out a way to traverse the intolerable 6-month a year landscape. Do you have a ska CD I can borrow?

(Listen to some DIIV while you think that over)

I had this thought the other day. I was listening to Charles Bradley cover, "Stay Away," by Nirvana (listen below) and it was just so utterly incredible I can't even put it into words. At that moment, I wished all Charles Bradley ever did was cover Nirvana, despite being a great artist in his own right.

But let's be honest, most people would HATE Charles Bradley if he sang for a Nirvana cover band. For one, it doesn't make any sense, but more importantly, cover bands, or "tribute bands" as they like to be called, are not a respected commodity. They are trivial, one-dimensional, and the exact opposite of what we consider to be "artistic endeavors". They are entertainment first and foremost, and entertainers never get their due in music. Art and commerce rarely mix.

So isn't it ironic when a band covers a song and they are geniuses for doing so, adding their own artistic flair and flavorings to the tune, yet they are chastised when they cover a collection of songs? I suppose if the band is "legit" and they cover something no one would have expected, it would add to their credibility. The Flaming Lips covered Dark Side of the Moon and it was a genius move. Nobody expected it, yet we knew it would be a tremendous success. Everybody loves that album. Can you imagine the Flaming Lips covering the New Radicals or any of Motley Crue's 90's albums? After the irony dissipated, you'd be quick to belt out a little lol and quickly toss that thing in the trash. For the most part though bands can't get away with it, especially in the "live" capacity. Metallica cover bands are probably the worst thing ever.

I like cover bands though and I think I like them for the very reason most people hate them. They lack any kind of artistic pretense. They know what they are and what they are is stupid. But stupid can be fun. I wish hipsters could appreciate the simple beauty of a whoopi cushion.

I don't know if I have a point here. I don't think that I do. But I will say this. Going to see Big Balls (local AC/DC cover band) or Supercharger (90's cover band) is a blast. It's guilt-free, bang your head Disney rock. Full retard as Robert Downey Jr. would say (And you never go full retard).

I don't know where this post should begin or end. Simply put, I'm at a loss. No concurrence of words or memories can quite sum up the way I felt when it was announced that Mohawk Place was shutting its doors a few days ago. I suppose I knew it was coming...I had heard rumors, whispers. Nevertheless, you can't really prepare for this kind of thing. It's like watching a family member die (and I do consider the Mohawk family in a weird way). In your mind you're able to reconcile the fact that you are losing someone close to you, but when it finally happens you realize that no amount of consolation is good enough. Time is the only thing that can heal these wounds...

When I was a teenager in the mid to late 90's, I was obsessed with music (still am, in fact). I would travel to VFW halls to catch local punk bands and, pre-internet promo used to seek out flyers with a tenacious voracity. This was my link to the outside world, a place that was new and exciting, especially for a young suburban kid who didn't get out much otherwise. The shows were usually one-offs and rarely would bands play these venues more than once or twice, either because they weren't asked back or because they had burned their bridges. My 16 year old heart was seeking something more permanent. A place I could call home. Most of the bands I would go see were naive young bucks like myself and were just as clueless as I was, permanently reserved to playing at friends' houses, at churches and at basements, and once they found drugs most of em gave up unfortunately. What I'm trying to say is that I knew an underground existed, but I didn't know where to find it.

I remember my first experience at the Mohawk Place. My homie Ruben and I were skate rats and decided to check out a punk show that night, so we grabbed our boards, and after some downtown shredding, headed over to the spot. Ruben had been going there for a few months and I remember him telling me that this was where the "real" scene was at.

We were greeted at the door by one Pete Perrone, the original owner of the bar. For those not in the know (or maybe just not old enough to remember), Pete was the face of Mohawk before it had one. An older Italian guy, probably in his fifties, and quite possibly the nicest human being I've ever met. More on that in a second.

Walking into the Mohawk was no joke for a teenage kid back in those days. It was intimidating. Not that the Mohawk was ever a dangerous place mind you. It was just, well, different back then. Mohawk was essentially a blues bar at the time that hosted some punk and rock'n'roll bands...but mostly blues. There were a lot of bikers that used to hang out there, and a lot of old blue's musicians. We're talking guys that were well-worn and travelled. There were also a lot of crazy punk rock guys and a fair share of junkies and low-lifes. I don't want to call the place seedy, but it was definitely a denizen for the outcasts. It was the fringe. In fact, I'd say it was the closest thing we had to a bar you'd find in the lower east side circa mid-80's. Of course, some might not agree with that assessment. That's how it felt to me.

Upon entering those old wooden doors, Pete introduced himself to me, possibly recognizing my apprehension in this new place, and we talked for several minutes. He was interested in the fact that I skateboarded and that it was my first time at Mohawk. Instead of turning me away, which was his right seeing as how I obviously wasn't 21, he welcomed me with open arms. He could sense the enthusiasm I had for seeing a punk show that night and told me to enjoy myself. I think the show was the Nickel City Showdown? Jungle Stud, the Stranded, the Baseball Furies and Trailerpark Tornadoes rounded out the bill that night. The show itself wasn't all that crazy. A few drunks were moshing. Nothing too memorable. What did strike me though was the place itself. It had a homely, cozy feel to it. My friend, Brandon, described it best recently when he called it a "punk rock Cheers". It felt like a community, even though I knew no one at the time.

Because a lot of people that read this blog are young, it's important to mention that the Mohawk that you know and love now is not the same Mohawk that some of us grew up with. Mohawk used to be quite tiny. The stage area that exists now was closed off to the general public until the early-mid 2000's. Instead the stage was in the side room on that little platform, and that side room was where you used to watch the bands play. And it would fill up quickly. I remember the Groovie Ghoulies show distinctly and how the place was absolutely overflowing with people. Where the bathrooms are now used to sit a pool table; probably my favorite pool table ever. I tell you these things not to brag about "being there," but simply to give you some historical context. The Mohawk has went through many incarnations.

When I first became a regular, the bar was mainly geared towards rock'n'roll, Americana and rock influenced music. Bobo, Girlpope, the Irving Klaws and the Dollywatchers were tearing it up as were the Big Neck Records bands of the time (The Tyrades being a personal fave). Great touring acts came through on the regular, many of which would find future fame-- see the Donna's or the White Stripes. I'm pretty sure Johnny Thunders played there too which lends you instant credibility in my opinion. I might be confusing that with the Continental though.

At some point in time, Mohawk made the switch from being a bar that hosted shows to being a venue that had a bar. And this was a great thing. It meant more people and more buzz surrounding the place. Of course, it eventually got so busy that it was necessary to change the layout to accommodate the growing audience, hence the bigger stage area and complete overhaul of the back area, including new bathrooms, and extra floor-space. A bit after the change, Pete sold the bar, and I must say it wasn't really the same after he left. I always thought of the Mohawk as his place, even though the bartenders and bookers were integral too (I'm looking at you Bill, Spicoli, etc.) It wasn't worse mind you. Just different.

I've seen too many great shows in that place to list them all. but I do want to touch on a few. Bobo, as I previously mentioned, was THE band to see at the Mohawk a decade ago. Jimmer, with all his cocky swagger, was a rock star on that tiny stage and many of those songs remain embedded in my brain. Agent Orange's free show, aka stage-dive mania, was a highlight as were all the shows that got absolutely bonkers. Cro-Mags, H20, Agnostic Front, TSOL, Sick of It All; any band fused with energy in that place was madness. Of course, there were just as many memorable shows on the mellow tip as well. Jessica Lee Mayfield was a recent highlight for me as was Sleepy Sun. Let's not forget some other great locals either; Chylde, Handsome Jack, the Bloody Hollies had an incredible run, oftentimes with Rochester's Killers, the Priests. The Black Lips in 2008. The Smiths vs. Cure dance parties, Joe Strummer tributes, and Culture Clash events. Hell, my band played there a few times and even though we sucked it was memorable just to say I played the Mohawk. The Rust Belt Revolts. Jungle Stud. Willie Reinhardt and his blues band. Vice Transmission. I could go on and on. And on.

Writing this post is digging up some fond memories for me and it's got me thinking about something. The Mohawk Place isn't just a venue; It's one of our cities greatest treasures. It is part of our soul and it's as much Buffalo as City Hall or the Central Terminal. It is a representation of who we are as Buffalonians; working class people without much money, but good people who enjoy each other's company and can appreciate good music. It is the kind of bar that was meant for us. Nothing too flashy; a dive bar really, but one you could always call home. It was an outskirt's bar for people looking for a bar on the outskirts. A place you had to travel to to know. It has a long legacy and will remembered as one of the all-time greats, right up there with the Continental. Unfortunately all good things must come to an end. What does this mean for the music scene? I wish I had the foresight to predict that. All we can do is remember it now and I think that's enough.

This is starting to sound like a really depressing eulogy and I don't want it to so I'll end by saying this: we still have a month and a half to celebrate the life, rather than the death, of Mohawk Place. Get out there and support the bands and the venue. I'm sure there's some shows coming up you'd be interested in seeing. And go check out their FREE final shows January 11 and 12th. It's going to be a who's who of Buffalo greats, past and present and it's going to be a barn burner. Let's send the Mohawk Place off in style. It deserves it.

Lately, I've been getting into a lot of arguments with my friends over my CD collection. The truth is I'm downright on the defensive. Taking jab's and blocking punches rather than moving forward and countering. I'm here to set the record straight. I like CD's and I don't apologize for it. I actually think it's the best medium for music. Allow me to explain why...but first a few concessions.

Vinyl sounds fantastic; this I will concede. I don't think anyone would disagree. I also get the fact that people view the LP as a piece of art, for both historic and aesthetic reasons. They like dissecting the artwork and the packaging and the layout. I can appreciate that too. Then there are those that prefer vinyl because it's the "cool" format to listen to in this day and age. Fuck those people. I don't cater this post towards them because they'll be on the CD train as soon as it's obsolete and suddenly hip again. You know who you are.

Compact discs don't sound as good...at first. However, if you listen to your favorite albums as much as I do, then you know that vinyl does NOT hold up over time. And don't try and argue with me on this one. Grooves wear out and the sound gets flatter. Vinyl has a long shelf life as long as you don't play the album on a regular basis, which is fine for the collector I suppose, but I am anything but. The music is always my forefront. I want to listen to that tasty gem, and I want to listen to it a lot. I don't want to have to keep purchasing the same expensive LP.

Which brings me to my next point: cost. Vinyl tends to be on the pricey side and it's hard to afford it in bundles unless you work at a record store or have easy access, i.e. the five finger discount (which I would NEVER support; local record stores have enough problems without those shitheads in the mix). Now, I understand that a lot of material is released strictly on vinyl and even via cassette tapes, which have been making a strong comeback as of late too. In these cases, it obviously makes sense to purchase some fresh wax or a tape. But assuming an album is released on CD and LP and they're essentially the same I'm always going to reach for the compact disc. Why? Because I can get more of them for less. I would rather sacrifice a little bit of quality for a lot of quantity. And I know that many of you are a fickle bunch about this kind of thing, and would argue just the opposite. That's your right. I collect way too much 90's grunge to side with you unfortunately. I am a man with needs.

Compact Discs, in many ways, are more practical than vinyl. If you spend half your day in your car, it makes sense to pop in a CD. They're also easier to store and are pretty durable. As long as you keep them in the case, they'll withstand any kind of abuse, which can't be said for our waxy friend.

Now, you're probably thinking, well, why don't you just bypass the whole physical format and go straight to mp3, iPod, Spotify, Pandora, Bandcamp, Facebook, yada yada yada. You can listen to an iPod in the car and it's relatively the same quality as those shitty CD's anyway (although not really). I DO take advantage of those resources as well, but I still like to have a tangible piece of work that convey's a vibe or a theme. I never said artwork and layout wasn't important. It most certainly is. Which is why the compact disc is the best of both worlds. It is a practical, easy-to-store, physical evidence that you own an album and have the ability to dissect it aesthetically should you like to do so, although on a much smaller scale than vinyl. It is a relatively inexpensive, not quite as great sounding (but in the long run better sounding) piece of art all on its own. And I pretty much love it.

I just want to preface this post by saying that these are my thoughts and my thoughts only. I am not speaking for the blog, or any of its writers. Any criticism to it should be aimed solely in my direction...

Yesterday, I voted because I believe in issues and policies I deem to be important. I also voted with my conscience and my gut. I did NOT vote because I play for a particular team. Politics are like football sometimes. It's more or less did we win or did we lose. Facts get lost along the way in an effort to make one's case.

Look at Clinton and Reagan; two former presidents who are worshipped in the 21st century yet were chastised during their respective terms. Both presidents made significant strides in the United States' historical landscape but are vilified by their opposing parties and martyrs to their own. To my liberal friends, Obama winning feels great, but there is a ton of work to do. Simply winning is not enough.

To my conservative friends, this is not the downward trajectory of society that some of you claim it to be...in four years we will most likely have a republican president (historical truth). Incumbents are usually heavy favorites to win any election so it shouldn't be shocking that Obama won.

The simple truth is life goes on no matter who wins. In the grand scheme of things our society has not changed so much since we were young, even though we believe it has. In the next four years, republicans will once again stick it to Obama for every little thing he does and liberals will continue to exaggerate the good things he does. And the wheel goes round and round...

I understand this is a music blog, and this post doesn't relate to music in any way shape or form. Considering that it's all anyone's talked about for the last week though I felt it was important to share my thoughts on the matter. Now back to my Ace of Base singles (you already knew I had bad taste).

I'm running on no sleep right now. Seriously, none. Which is curious because I went to bed early enough. I just couldn't fall asleep...and it's been this way for the past few weeks. I guess it's just that time of year.

Does anybody else get Halloween fatigue? It seems like every year there's more and more house parties, haunted houses, shows and special events like Prom of the Dead and Hallowasted and the Witches Ball. These things used to be limited to Friday and Saturday nights but I found they've taken over my Sundays... and my Mondays too. And Halloween is on a Wednesday this year. EEK.

Truth be told, this is a problem year-round for the regular show-goer. If you're like me, there's about 20 shows in any given week that you want to attend, but due to time, financial constraints, and work, you just can't go to 'em all. So you wind up making calendars...lots of them, to best maximize your time. I am a nerd.

Halloween is almost too much though. The party never seems to end and sometimes you just need to take a step back and learn to say "when."  I haven't gotten there yet. I love Halloween, but I'm going to be thankful when it's over.

Last night, I went to see Thee Oh Sees and Ty Segall. Both bands were great, although I had an entirely different experience with each of these acts. I had never seen Thee Oh Sees before and they blew me away. Now, truth be told, Castlemania and Carrion Crawler have not left my record player in weeks so I wasn't sure if their live show would meet my incredibly high expectations, despite everyone telling me how awesome they are live and hearing the stories. They far exceeded any expectations that I had. They killed it.

Ty Segall were also great, although I felt the level of enthusiasm slighty fell off, and I must say, I much preferred the dirtiness and raw fuzz of Ty's albums (solo or otherwise) to the live experience.

This got me thinking about live music and recorded music and how sometimes our expectations can dissapoint us. The live experience is one that affirms our devotion to a band or, in some cases, sever's it. I remember years ago I went to see Velvet Revolver (I told you I had terrible taste in music) at Darien Lake and the show was so utterly and objectively bad on all fronts that I had trouble ever listening to them again, which is a shame because I loved their albums. It's hard to maintain any semblance of enthusiasm when a band is clearly going through the motions and trying really, REALLY hard to be bad-ass and not coming anywhere close.

The live experience can also have the opposite effect. I saw AC/DC two years ago. They played a 3 hour set and it was packed with b-side cuts and Bon Scott tracks, and the energy on display that night rivaled any punk show I've ever been to. I was "re-affirmed" in Cleveland and am loyal to that band til the day that I die.

In both of these cases, the live show had a a significant impact on my impression of those bands. They not only affected my perception of them, but the way I listen to their music. In the case of AC/DC, I sought out more. In the case of Velvet Revolver, I lost interest.

There is a flip side to this coin. Sometimes we are so unimpressed with a band's recorded material that the live experience, should we choose to pursue it, is transcendant. I will admit, I was NOT a fan of Interpol when they came out. I couldn't understand the hype. Fast forward a year or so (circa '03?). My friend Angela is going to see them in Toronto, had a free ticket and asked me if I wanted to go. I had nothing better to do that day so I said sure. I'm glad I did because Interpol were so incredibly on point that I had no choice but to become a fan. The vibe in that room was inescapable and I dare anyone to deny the presence that band had on that particular night. Since that time I've been become a devoted Interpol fan.

Recorded material and the live show can complement each other, or you can be left with a hole in your wallet screaming "why did I just spend $15 to see this shitty band?" It's a risk we take as music enthusiasts. I sometimes think that that gamble is part of the fun in this game. Will will be re-affirmed or will our favorite bands let us down? Can they deliver on both fronts? Do we move together upstream or jump ship and find something new? As our tastes change how do we evolve as music listeners yet still maintain our roots? I know one thing. Whether live, or in the studio, a great band, a truly transcendant one, always delivers. And you will know it.

This past Thursday saw yet another installment of MTV's Video Music Awards; an award show that at one point in time had its finger so close to the pulse that you could swear it was on your neck.  But, over the years, as MTV has degenerated into whatever the hell you could call it now, the once proud hip variety show has become...well...an atrocious cavalcade of commercial interests and assinine behavior.  The VMA's are no more relevant to most music fans than a sporting event.  Bearing this mind, I have taken it upon myself to list my top five reasons why this program is no longer relevant; if only to prove to those who read this that they should avoid watching them, lest they keep encouraging shitty music.

5. The Nickelodeon Kids' Choice Awards:  Viacom owns both Nickelodeon and MTV, as those who watched Ren & Stimpy will recall (it used to play on both channels for you Youngbloods).  Viacom has, in a sense, just ushered those generations that were brought up on the Nickelodeon Kids' Choice Awards onto the VMA's when they became teenagers.  In fact, many of the same celebrities and performers are often featured on both.  Britney Spears, Rihanna, Chris Brown, and Justin Timberlake have all been on or hosted both shows, which begs the question: aren't the VMA's really for post-adolescents?

4. Reality Television Celebrities:  With the advent of reality television (a niche that MTV pioneered with its program The Real World), the VMA's, which used to be vehemently filled with A-listers, is now populated with a bunch of nobody's famous for acting like assholes or "privately" filming a sex tape.  The VMA's used to be attended by the likes of the Beastie Boys, Madonna, Michael Jackson; real celebrities known around the world.  Now you can't watch the VMA's for five minutes without seeing shots of Kim Kardashian, Snookie (I don't know if that is correctly spelled, but I refuse to look it up), Amber Rose, or a bunch of the Jersey Shore jack-offs; all of whom have absolutely no talent and have done absolutely nothing with their lives except bring shame to their families and piss away money.  Anybody who is anybody phone's it in for the VMA's.

3. The Grammy's:  With Bon Iver winning two Grammy's in 2012, the Grammy's are making a come back.  Thanks to the likes of Pitchfork, Consequence of Sound, Brooklyn Vegan, and of course buffaBLOG, Hiplanta, and our entire 8 blog family, good music is once again making its presence known.  In the digital age great music is much easier to come by; so much so that it can, at times, overwhelming trying to keep up with all of the great releases.  2011 was a banner year for great music, and it is tremendously invigorating to see that talented musicians are starting to get credibility at music's highest level.  The trouble is the VMA's concentrate on pop music, and neglect indie, underground hip hop, and even hard rock scenes that are not only growing in popularity, but putting out music that is standing the test of time.  There is no telling if 5 years from now anyone will even know who Nicki Minaj is, or care.  I mean shit, where did Kings of Leon go?

2. Program Directors:  Springboarding off the last reason, program directors seem to be their own worst enemies.  This is not only a problem that is deeply rooted in MTV, but also American radio as well.  People are drifting farther and farther away from their FM tuners because what they want to hear isn't there.  It started with the advent of Satellite Radio, and has spiraled out of control.  There are now dozens of cloud based streaming radio programs (such as Pandora, Last FM, and Slacker), as well as programs like Spotify which literally allows users to play whatever they want (practically speaking).  Program directors can't keep up with the growing demand for variety on radio stations, so they play the same recycled garbage or whatever the record company promoters are paying them the most to play.  When was the last time you called a radio station to request a song and they actually played it?

1. MTV No Longer Plays Music Videos:  They don't!!  Music video used to be an artform.  It has actually given us talented film directors, such as Spike Jonze, and used to be a brilliant way to give songs depth and imagery, but have devolved at a rapid pace.  As much as I love hip hop music, it is definitely one of the biggest reasons that music videos have less credibility.  Taking a bunch of slow moion shots of you and your boys sitting around a bunch of chromed out cars with ice on and pouring champagne over a bunch of half naked women is NOT artistic at all, nor do I want to watch it.  I am sorry, but that's how I feel (especially given all the video vixen stories).  There are still many artists producing quality videos that are artistic and real (as our Picking Up The Slack For MTV is meant to highlight), but there is no real way for them to get airplay (aside from Youtube).  Even MTV2 is populated with garbage TV now.  MTV is as false a monicker as could be, and it is a shame that they still have an awards ceremony that is supposed to be dedicated to the music video.  To exemplify my point, I have decided to use a Soulja Boy video and a video from TV on the Radio's series of videos from the Nine Types of Light movie (by the way, the Soulja Boy video has over 127 MILLION views which again shows that pop music caters to children).

Very few things in life give me as much satisfaction as music and skateboarding. These are and have always been my two greatest passions. And when you put those two things together, I'm just a believer. I believe in all things great in this world; creativity, freedom, life and love. These are the bigger themes; much moreso than surface appearance would dictate. Surface appearance would tell us the story of a plank of wood and some tunes. To me though, it's a world devoid of irony, sarcasm, phoniness and boredom. There is only what is in front of me.

I have discovered some of the greatest bands by accident watching skate videos and have been inspired by how a song takes shape and tells a story behind a board. Watch Guy Mariano's section in Lakai's Fully Flared. It's a beautiful semblance of hard work, determination and struggle. And if you know about Guy's struggles with drugs you're captivated all the more so. That he was able to re-capture the spirit and essence of skateboarding after years of hard living is affective and infectious.

Jim Greco's part in Misled Youth is another fantastic example. Pure attitude and style. I LOVE Black Flag and I loved Black Flag even more after that part. Aggression personified.

A great video part captures what the skater, the team and the vibe is all about. It gives a video flavor and that special something and in return skateboarding gives back to the song.

Sometimes hip-hop fits the soundtrack. Sometimes rock. Sometimes indie. Sometimes whatever. To this day I still pull inspiration from videos. From Sick Boys and Public Domain to Video Days and SecondHand Smoke to new bangers like Stay Gold and Baker 3 I'm always going to find inspiration. Check out a few of my faves below.

Now that this Anderson Cooper nonsense has blown over, it's time to focus on a real issue to be outraged about.  Duke's Bohemian Grove Bar, also known as DBGB's, is the victim of a lawsuit from chef Daniel Boulud, owner of DBGB Kitchen & Bar in the East Village of NYC.  I'm going to cite a couple of reasons why this lawsuit is laughably ridiculous.

DBGB Kitchen & Bar is named for it's owner and head chef, Daniel Boulud.  The name is also a nod to the legendary NYC punk rock club, CBGB.  Duke's, on the other hand, is named after owner Patrick Duquin's brother Peter "Duke" Duquin, who tragically passed away in 2009.  Right off the bat, it is made clear that both names stand for different things.  I'm not sure how CBGB feels about an uptight East Village restaurant adopting it's name for it's own purposes, but I do know that it's decidedly un-punk rock.

How then, do you sue a business because they happen to have the same initials?  My initials are BPG, what would happen if the Big Picture Group decided one day that I wasn't allowed to use my own name to identify myself? Granted, I'm not a business, but in order to bring a lawsuit for this reason, you have to prove the likelihood of consumer confusion.  It would be a tragic thing if a hip NYC couple was out on the town, in the mood for a Frenchie Burger, and suddenly took a wrong turn and wound up 8 hours away in the Allentown district of Buffalo, NY.

If that couple existed, however, they might have made the best mistake of their lives. Anyone who fights the good fight in this city's music scene knows that DBGB's has been an indispensable part of the city's cultural growth.  You can't read one of James Wild's Drum Machine Reports without coming across a reference to a fun event happening there. Duquin took the former Staples and converted it from my grandmother's living room decor to a classy, yet approachable night club and restaurant.  Even other business owners in Allentown can't resist stopping in for their smoked barbecue chicken wings.  It's disgusting to think that Boulud's Kitchen & Bar, a business that itself stole it's name from another business would have the audacity to go after someone else with the same accusation.  Duke's name is derived from a place of remembrance and respect, something Boulud doesn't share.

Seriously Buffalo? If there was ever a time where you could show your character by taking something in stride, this would be it.  Anderson Cooper proved only one thing last night, that his laugh resembles that of my 3 year old niece.  As for the implications of his laughter, I feel it's important to delve a little bit into this very serious holiday.


I'm mostly of Irish descent, but the rest of me is Slovak.  Were you aware that Dyngus Day is not strictly a Polish holiday? In Slovakia, veľkonočný pondelok is celebrated every year, just like it is in Hungary, Poland and the Czech Republic.  The origin of the water stems from the act of baptism, as the day remembers when Poland converted to Christianity, signified by the baptism of Polish Prince Mieszko I in 966 A.D. Somewhere along the line, the tradition developed into tossing buckets of water onto girls while they lay in their beds and whacking them in the legs with pussy willows.  The gesture is meant to be a romantic one, and in the interests of gender equality, girls were eventually included in the fun.


And that's just what it is: fun.  It's a great way to cut loose after the long, arduous religious observance of Lent (which I'm sure every Buffalonian participates in with reverence).   Cooper wasn't reacting to the muted, religious origins of the holiday, he was reacting to the silly nature of it's current incarnation.  Based on this, his reaction is understandable.  Squirting girls with water IS silly, as any 3 year old can tell you, so why must Buffalo insist that Anderson Cooper is being condescending?  The only thing more embarrassing than his reaction (which is really only embarrassing for him) is a straight faced Buffalonian insisting that this is all SERIOUS BUSINESS.  You don't see the Irish in Buffalo reacting this way when people of all ethnicities turn the city into a drunken frat party on St. Patrick's Day, despite the fact that it's also a religious holiday commemorating the arrival of Christianity.  Why then, does the Polish population of Buffalo insist that a day spent running rampant through the neighborhood it abandoned with squirt guns and pussy willows has to be taken seriously?


My point is, if you are angered by Cooper's entirely appropriate reaction to a holiday that defines silliness, you have no one to blame but yourselves.

As so many sources, including Brooklyn Vegan, have posted in the post grammy frenzy, one of the top trends on Twitter was the question "Who the F is Paul McCartney?", and I for one, am ashamed to even be included as part of the American music scene afet such nonsesne. The aptly named "Twit"-ter apparently is filled with numbskulls, but moreover, I personally feel this is a problem with American education. I shall indulge you as a reader, and for the record, these are my own personal opinions, not that of buffaBLOG.

For those who are connected to the internet, are reading about music, and still don't know who he is (a number I expect to be around zero), Paul McCartney is one of the primary songwriters, and bass player for the Beatles; the most influential rock band of all time. The Beatles are bar none the afformentioned mecha-band, and the predications of the modern music industry have been forged on have been based around their accomplishments, and have been attempt to find the next Beatles. The Beatles marked a cultural transition into the turbulent times of the 60's, and essentially played the soundtrack to things like civil rights, and the anti-war movement.

The Brittish Invasion was not only a piece of musical history, but human history as well; it is a time period and movement that have gone down in history books, and as stated earlier, the entire foundations of modern recording have been based around the accomplishments of the Beatles, of which Sir Paul was a humongous influence in. Paul has written some of the most notable, highest grossing songs of all time, and has paved the way for artists the likes of Madonna and Michael Jackson. Without the Beatles, labels wouldn't have understood the potential influence one group of artists could have on the world. The Beatles were a tremendous influence on society and politics, on the recording industry, and for song writing and pioneering studio techniques. What they accomplished in their time together was literally a surreal happening, the likes of which will never happen again.

But perhaps this has been where Sir Paul has done himself in. With the progression of music as we know it, the industry's realization of billion dollar sales, and musical mass production, the music industry subdivided into the plethora of genres that the Beatles invented; the primary of which is popular music. Labels saw how lucrative the Beatles were, and they have all tried to repeat what was a one time occurance. Right after they exploded, labels were clamoring to sign acts like the Rolling Stones and the Who, and that eventually into acts like Led Zeppelin; all of which were fantastic in their own right, however didn't have the "landing" that the Beatles did.

This brings us to where we are today; we are a society of popular music that people who actually follow music dismiss. We as a culture have just begun gobbling up pop stars by the minute with things like "American Idol" and "The X Factor", but digest them just as quickly. Even the indie scenes are becoming so dependent on the next big thing, without any of us realizing that there will never be another Beatles. It happened, and has become entrenched in the fabric of our popular music whether we like it or not. Unfortunately for us, one of the greatest musical collaborations in history may have convuluted that history to such an extent, that people will just eat whatever slop is fed to them. Like an an animal on an Orwellian musical Animal Farm, we are destined to eat what the industry pigs feed us whilst they feast immaculate on that which was created by Beatles. These events further prove to me that there is no going back, and that the influence of profits (unless debunked by online music and piracy) will continue destroy music, and water down the opinions and tastes of mainstream music "listeners". It seems it may be time for real music fans to abandon all hope, as even one of the greatest and most renowned musicians of all time is a relative nobody again. Maybe if he flashed his nipples or wore a dress of meat he might once again make himself a star...I think our option here was phrased best by Paul himself...

It's a familiar cry. "There's nothing to do in this city". You hear it on the streets,from bystanders passing by. You hear it from your friends, your co-workers, just about everyone. And if you've grown up loving music you've probably heard the musical equivalent of this statement: "We never get any good shows here" or "I wish we got some of the shows the bigger cities get". My response to this statement is are you fucking nuts????? Yes, Buffalo is a small market city. The population right now is hovering around 300,000 in the city, and including the surrounding area's, Western New York encompasses about two-three million people. IN SPITE of this however, the past few years have seen some truly incredible shows; shows that would lead you to believe that Buffalo is, in fact, a small-city musical mecca. Take a look at Town Ballrooms upcoming schedule. We have Charles Bradley, M83, Henry Rollins, St. Vincent and Portugal the Man. Seriously legit, relevant bands that probably wouldn't have made their way to the queen city a few years back. Take a look at Mohawk Place and their constant slew of exciting shows. I practically live at that venue because theres always something cool to check out or discover. These bands don't just pop out of nowhere. Somebody BOOKS them; i.e. promoters.

Those not in the know sometimes assume that the promotion business is a greedy enterprise and that promoters are fat cats rolling around in pools of money, ripping off bands and patrons alike. That sounds like an absolutely ridiculous stereotype; a lame generalization from some 80's hollywood movie. It's true though. I was forced to listen to some kids at the Pink the other day talk trash about a local promotion company (who shall remain nameless). I was in earshot and couldn't help eavesdropping, which I am wont to do when I'm drunk. The argument went as such; so and so promotional company sucks. They charge too much for their shows, are greedy, and never bring the bands that anybody wants to hear. Now, I understand that everybody has their opinions about these matters, but I don't think those opinions are always informed opinions. Alot of people don't realize that these bands have guarantees, and won't play for a penny less. This drives ticket prices higher. Simple as that. I highly doubt any Buffalo promoters are getting rich off the talent they bring. I assume many break even or do well enough to keep the business going, and get to keep a few dollars. And as for never bringing bands, well, take a look at Pittsburgh, or Rochester, or any other small city and you'll see that the level of talent we bring here is surprisingly good.

I understand that I'm not saying anything new here. Everybody who reads this blog probably understands what a guarantee is, and knows Buffalo's a small city, and, understands the reason for admission prices being the way that they are, even if they don't like them. I guess I just wanted to play the devil's advocate here, and take the side of the promoters for once and thank them for bringing the shows I like to see. Thank you MNM presents, Supernaut Booking, ESI events, After Dark Entertainment, Little Red Booking, and everyone who books at Town Ballroom, Babeville, Mohawk Place, Nietzches, sugar city, and all the independent promoters who do house shows (Funeral Home, Marty's house). Somebody appreciates you.

Leafing through my music binders this morning I knew I wanted to hear something new and something old simultaneously. In other words something I hadn't heard in awhile. Every now and then I get this itch. The urge to step backwards in time and re-discover an album, one familiar to the ears, yet somehow erased from recent memory. These are the albums that make you go "holy shit! I forgot how good this was!".

I think all true music nerds can relate to this one. One of the traps of being a serious aural junkie is that you tend to get your fill, then move on. It's hard to keep track of all the artists, albums, songs, etc. in your head. You get excited by new artists, spend your days and nights collecting re-issues and b-sides of your favorite older artists, and somehow forget the Marcy Playground's of this world even existed (I stick by it. They were a great band).

On the very last page of the very last binder of discs, marked "Art Rock/New Wave/Post-Punk" (I have a problem), I came across Jim Carroll's Dry Dreams, and it occurred to me that this album came out exactly 30 years ago, in 1982. After giving it a few listens, and fondly remembering his influence, I felt it only appropriate to write about him.

The name Jim Carroll probably sounds familiar if you're over the age of 25, and if you are in your early twenties or teens I'm sure you've never heard of him. If you're in your thirties, you might know all about him and may even worship him. He certainly has a pretty big cult following, although I've found that people tend to either be all about him or couldn't care less. Kind of like how people are with Hunter S. Thompson or Chuck Klosterman.

Most know him as the author of The Basketball Diaries, a series of journals that outline the adventures of a heroin-addicted, outcast-poet youth who was as brilliant with words as he was the language of the streets. This book made him famous, along with several other publications of his poetry and are certainly worth the read.

To appreciate the full scope of Carrolls genius though you have to listen to his music. His first album, Catholic Boy, with the Jim Carroll Band, is a bonafide classic. Two parts punk rock, two parts beat poet street, and all attitude. "People Who Died" is still played in dive bars worldwide, and dj's always find way's of throwing it in the mix. I swear I've heard that song at the Pink more times in the last 15 years than maybe any other. Actually, wait, thats a lie; Johnny Thunders "Born to Lose".

What makes JC so compelling is that he represents an era that doesn't exist anymore. The old New York. Seedy, and grimy, and dangerous. Before the Bowery and the Lower East Side were shopping districts. He represents the New York you saw, albeit charicaturized in The Warriors. And despite his bouts with drugs and alcohol, he never lost his keen sense of self-awareness. He knew where he came from and was a proud spokesperson for the weirdos of the street generation.

To me, Carroll was always an unsung hero. His insight into city life and the larger society was razor sharp and so pin-point accurate. The guy was just so many different shades of cool it would be useless to try and analyze all of them. You just have to experience his poetry and his music and his lyrics firsthand. I remember first discovering him and feeling like a whole new world opened up, as cliche as it is to say. Some of the music sounds dated now, but if your listening to the words that won't really matter.

Jim died in 2009; a tragic blow for the underground. He was a standout in a world full of phony artists who try hard to cultivate an image or an identity or a sound. Carroll never tried. His art was always a reflection of who he was, as most great art usually is. The streets were effectively his. So today, 30 years later, I salute the dude that got me excited all over again.

"People Who Died" on repeat, all day long.


"People Who Died" - The Jim Carroll Band by scottrek13

For those not in the know Tony Lorenzo, a talented musician (Sons of Azrael, Ritual Quaratine) and all around good dude, was the victim of a brutal shooting wednesday night on the corner of Bird and Richmond Ave. This is a huge tragedy and disgusting example of just how cruel humanity can be to one another; a truely senseless act of violence. A number of benefits are currently being organized to support Tony and his recovery. Even if you didn't know him I ask that you PLEASE support his cause. Many of us are fellow show-goers or musicians and live in the Elmwood Village where this happened. It could have been any of us. Currently Brian Pattison, from Glorious Times, is organizing a large event. Info on that is coming. Next friday, November 4 there is a show at DBGBs with Lewd Dewdz, Vile Crocodile and a bunch of others at 10pm. $5 donations at that show go towards Tony and his family. Several other benefits are in the works. We'll keep you posted with updates as they come. Get well soon Tony!


(Song from Tony's current band, Ritual Quarantine)