It was the first day under new management over at The Comet Tavern this past weekend, officially labeled as their Grand Re-opening Party. 5 bands, one evening, for 0 cashola, can’t beat that. But I didn’t really come to see those 4 other bands or even to celebrate the whole new management deal. The Limbs were billed to open, and that was incentive enough to get my hung over booty to the show.

The Limbs are one of those bands that are few and far in between in this city. Their sound is raw, and at times, reminiscent of late 1970’s Manchester bands. The 3 piece kicked off their 9 song set with drummer Mike Peter announcing “We’re The Limbs, and we’re here to play some spaz rock”, a term they often use to describe their music. Which is in fact the best way to describe these guys, considering that spastic refers to someone who is awkward/eccentric. Matt Hanrahan, lead vocalist and guitarist, sings in a way I can only describe as a prepubescent school yard bully yelling at the kid with the stuttering problem to speak up! His screechy and shaky voice, which kind of sounds like a cross between Frank Black and Jack White, often breaks, counteracting with the solid musical foundation of The Limbs songs, and it works well together. A definite driving force within the band’s songs can be credited to the bass stylings of Tyler Jensen.

Their 4th song in, entitled “Five-Four”, which is on the bands 4 song demo, is by far one of their most pop-friendly songs, with bass nicely complimenting a catchy, melodic progression on guitar. The song ends on a fierce, lengthy drum roll by Mike Peter, putting the boo in booyah! “Fascinating Recreation” also off their demo, is a bit more lazy and sweeter than the rest of The Limbs songs, a refreshing little change up, and testament that this band can cover lots of different ground. “all day long (the doggie gone)”, their final song of the night, has Matt Hanrahan and Tyler Jensen both doing call-and-response type vocals along to a bouncy rhythm section that just plain rocks.

The Limbs demo, “Former Energy Giant”, can be purchased at their shows. Spaz-tastic!

Rad Radford, gonzo-journalist and convicted child molester, challenged me to write a review about Tri-Cities singer/songwriter Aaron Shroeder’s release Southern Heart in Western Skin. Radford and I met at an undisclosed booth at the Mecca of all restaurants in Queen Anne…the Mecca. Coming from the Tri-Cities himself, Rad Radford acted as courier/liaison for Schroeder. In fact, Rad referred to himself in code as “The Passenger Pigeon of All Tri-Cities Talent.”

A very suspicious looking pederast, Radford tries to conceal his identity by always wearing sunglasses and traveling under pseudonyms—like Busby or Liza—when coming to Seattle by Greyhound bus. “These buses,” Radford quips, “take me from the crotch-rot of the Tri-Cities to the throbbing love-muscle that IS Seattle. cough, snerrt, wruaaaak!” Unfortunately, this article is not about Rad “Cub Scout Cuddler” Radford, but instead about the CD he handed me by songsmith Aaron Shroeder.

Schroeder’s Southern Heart in Western Skin can be described as a big bottle of folk soda pop. It’s catchy and lyrically focused. He has a rural sound that could go over in the city, if you catch my drift. The lyrics are sweet, but not saccharine. I’m surprised, frankly, that Rad “I Eat Black Metal Records for Breakfast” Radford would all of a sudden get all gushy and teddy-bear-luvy-duvy on me by suggesting such a CD. But I guess hanging out with other convicted perverts has softened him up a little.

Honestly, Shroeder’s album doesn’t really get my juices flowing. It has elements of Bright Eyes or Wilco. But since I don’t really listen to either of these bands, the songs on Southern Heart kinda whiz through one ear and out the other. So, if you like Alt-folk/country or ejaculate whenever a C major chord is struck on an acoustic guitar, then this CD maybe what you’re looking for (but be sure to accompany that purchase with a box o’ Kleenex).

The last song, however, is a well crafted, sonically staggering song. The title of this song is “Rollin Tennessee.” It has a country shuffle accompanied by a drum sound not too far off from a Phil Spector session. A big and cavernous din of hand claps, shakers, a snare, and guitar pick clicks replace a traditional trap set sound. Playful piano riffs round out the instrumentation which provides a back drop for lyrics like: “Come on baby won’t you meet me here/This town it ain’t quite whisky, but it’s better than beer.” I’ve always liked drinkin’ analogies…well at least they’re better than “touch football analogies,” right Rad?

Anyhow, Mr. Radford, if you’re out there (probably crouched nekkid in some Kennewick basement stealing Wi-Fi and downloading hobo porn) thanks for the Aaron Shroeder CD. And if you have any testicular fortitude/chutzpah/moxie/balls, you’ll put down that issue of Boy’s Life and comment on my observations here at recordparty.com. In doing so, you could make your big comeback to journalism. But I ain’t holding my breath…

Artist: Aaron Shroeder

Title:  Southern Heart in Western Skin

Label:  Self Release

“Then I flip back the cover- oh my god, a rubber. . . rubber. . .rubber. . .rubber. . .”

So concluded chapter 4 of R Kelly’s ongoing operatic saga Trapped in the Closet about lust, betrayal, and including, but not limited to, a well-endowed, incontinent, asthmatic midget.

This past week, Seattlelites were treated to an interpretation of R. Kelly’s Trapped at the Re-Bar as part of the ongoing Brown Derby Series. Under the direction of Ian Bell, the Brown Derby Series is a semi-regular group of players that present pop favorites like Footloose to kitsch loving audiences. What these performances lack in preparedness, they more than make up for in creativity and charm. The set looked closer to a third grader’s end of the year play than a professional production with the cardboard cutout cars and sparse furnishings with just a vertically turned bed with a prophylactic strategically attached to the covers. In the case of Trapped, who needs expensive costuming when there’s rubber caps, black licorice and some glues sticks lying around? R. Kelly-esque cornrows complete.

A line was forming ten minutes before the doors even opened and admission quickly went to standing room only before selling out entirely. Many passed the time waiting to get in by recapping their favorite (read: most absurd) Trapped moments. Is it so bad it’s good? So good it’s bad? Either way, it was hilarious.

This “world premiere” according to Bell, was received with snorting laughter, cat-calls, and when better judgment eluded the crowd, all out sing-along. During intermission, an audience member told her friend, “I’m wetting my pants it’s so funny.”

Sure it was hilarious hearing someone sing/speak, “Should’ve known you would do some bogus shit in my house!” However, much of the humor lay in the irony. It’s funny hearing Kelly’s own commentary praising this project,which ends up closer to an episode of “All My (Ghetto) Children” than a groundbreaking masterpiece. He’s slated to release another 13 chapters by next year. I’m sure he’ll have better luck finding a million dollars to promote “Trapped In the Closet Continues. . .The Saga of a Pryapismic Baker With Genetically Modified Gills to Enhance his Lovemaking, and Win Back His Transgendered Aboriginal Princess”, than one person who make it through half a chapter with a straight face. Additionally, there’s this collective understanding that Trapped is completely ridiculous on so many levels, yet there were many who couldn’t help but deconstruct it and seek the larger meaning from the mind of a man with a love of rhymes, drama and water sports. An audience member earned a drink when R, Kelly’s own commentary about Trapped being about “many closets” coincided with her thesis of a “global closet.”

If Kelly’s work in its original incarnation failed to earn many accolades, Trapped as interpreted by the Brown Derby gang earned a standing ovation. And as quickly as it was here, it’s gone. Such is the essence of the Brown Derby Series. It’s unknown what is next on their roster, but another masterpiece is just a pop culture reference away!

(Photos by Mindy Sisco)

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Chorus:
Dig a duck, dig a duck,
Dig a gooey duck duck
Dig a duck, dig a duck
Dig a duck a day

Maybe whoever wrote this song is big in Japan, where a sashimi craze can pluck a peaceful bivalve from its repose and turn it into an obsession. Not here though. Seattleites will gleefully argue whilst sipping lattes as to which is the most authentic sushi restaurant in town, but few of this new school would make it past the first stage in Survivor if they had to catch any of it.

So! Recordparty is here to help you help yourself. Let’s start with a few juicy facts, all of which point to why our city is actually better than New York and LA and blahblahblah that others drivel about. We actually still have critters than can be collected and consumed without having to fork over a wad of cash at a swanky eatery. I digress. Largest burrowing clam in the world? The geoduck. Can live longer than you can? The geoduck. That’s pronounced “gooey-duck”, in case you plan to use it in your next game of Scrabble.

A picture is definitely worth a thousand words on this one. Insert pun that your Uncle would make (yes, that one), utilizing the words “phallic” or “size”. Think back to puberty, and chuckle.

All right here under our noses…or toes…in the lower intertidal areas of Puget Sound. Some do know this, as in perhaps you if you stem from the Evergreen State College’s dominating athletics program, where the geoduck is the mascot. Maybe you can sing us the whole song, so we know how it goes.

The important part of all of this is that the geoduck tastes good, and you can collect it yourself. There’s lots of meaty goodness that can be breaded and fried like steaks, thinly sliced for sashimi, or grounded into chowder and clam-cakes. The collecting part is a bit trickier, but we tell you this because the lowest tides of the year are this upcoming week. If you find yourself on a beach away from the I-5 corridor (think islands and peninsulas), look for someone digging within a can, cussing, bleeding, with a huge shit-eating grin on their face. I’m sure if you help them dig, they’ll tell you all their secrets.

If you are a grown man, and you own shorts, this may be a familiar conundrum for you.

It’s a hot summer day, so you dig out your trusty shorts, throw on a shirt, and grab your shoes when… it happens. You stop and ask yourself the same question every time. “Should I wear socks with shorts, or not?” Will you look like you’re 10 years old with tube socks on, or will you look like a hillbilly sans the socks? There is an answer. First a bit of education on sock etiquette for you non-sock-savvy boys.

It’s important to know what not to do. Here are some commonly made mistakes – which seem obvious – but necessary to point out from the start:

1. Do not wear socks with flip flops, sandals, hippie shoes, or anything that shows your toes. Bad. Somehow the Pacific Northwest has become a breeding ground for guys wearing sock with sandals. Hopefully you are not a victim of this, but if you are, please stop! It does not look good, and it never will.


2. If you do wear flip flops or sandals without socks (as you should), you should have clean feet. That means no missing toes or toenails, no foot fungus, and no crackly dirty toe jam.


3. Never wear black socks with shorts, unless you are a referee or you work for Foot Locker. Again …Bad. If you see someone wearing black socks with shorts, kick them. Kick them hard right on their black sock.


4. Please men, don’t wear shorts that are too short! Thigh or higher is too short. On the flip side, shorts can also be too long, and thus look like cropped pants (not a good look for straight men). Knee length (give or take a couple inches) is a good length, and most appealing to us gals.

Hopefully you weren’t too surprised by these no-no’s! And if you were, you learned something new and can apply this to your short-wearing experience.

Now, back to the original question: To wear socks with shorts or not? The answer stems from one main element: the shoes.

Here is a nice little chart to help you figure things out. It’s all about the shoe!!

I’m curious what all you boys out there think. After all I am not a man – however i do know fashion. If you have any insights to share, bring it. Challenge the sock!!