5 posts tagged “san francisco”

Pentagram have been around, in one form or another, since I was a kindergartener.  It wasn't until the mid-eighties that I actually stumbled across them, in the form of their first, self-titled, lp in the records bins at the now-defunct Tower Records.  The cover of the lp is black, with the band's logo, in purple and white, positioned at an angle on the front.  Back in those days, there was no internet to provide me with instant information and sound samples, so I tended to buy music based on what I could glean from record covers.  The spartan cover and song titles like Dying World and The Ghoul pushed this one over the top and convinced me to part with the 7 or 8 dollars needed to make it mine. 

I was rewarded with a sludgy, Sabbathy morass of chugging goodness.  The icing on this particular cake came in the form of Bobby Leibling's sneering Ozzyish vocals.  Sometime afterwards, I picked up their second album, "Day of Reckoning", at the late, lamented Record Vault.  $7.98, plus tax.  The sticker is still on it.  This time out, some of the rough edges had been smoothed away, and Liebling's vocal mannerisms aped Ozzy's to an even greater degree.  He even utters the line, "all right now/won't you listen?" during one song.  Pretty blatant.  Still, it's a very listenable record, with the massive Burning Savior still holding a special place in my heart.

Since then, several Pentagram cds featuring Bobby Liebling and drummer Joe Hasselvander have seen the light of day (with Hasselvander playing all of the instruments), not to mention a couple of compilations of early works.  Hasselvander has kept himself busy with other projects as well.  Liebling, it appears, has kept himself busy with the type of self-destuctive behaviors most often associated with rock musicians.  There's even a documentary on his life coming out sometime soon.  Not to mention the song he wrote based on one of his suicide notes. 

Last year, I saw Raven for the first time in a quarter century, with none other than Joe Hasselvander drumming for them.  This year, I was surprised to hear that Pentagram were touring.  On July 2nd, they rolled into town for a show at the DNA Lounge in S.F., and I left work in a rush to be there in time.  Justin and I got there too late to see Orchid (who I've since heard good things about) and Hammers of Misfortune (too bad - I've been wanting to see them).  Nachmystium were band number three, and they steamrolled through a set of Bathory-influenced metal.  Kind of black metal.  Kind of not.  Throat tearing vocals over pummeling metal with epic overtones.  Decent, but I'd rather be listening to Bathory.

I didn't bring my camera in because it said "no cameras" on the ticket confirmation page.  Of course, once inside, I saw cameras everywhere.  Damn.  I guess it is kind of hard to enforce that rule now that camera phones are the norm.

Pentagram is now just Bobby Liebling, with a much younger backing band.  A search around the internet seems to suggest that there is some bad blood between Liebling and Hasselvander at the moment, but I'm just guessing.  The set proved to be a mixture of old and new.  I have a couple of the newer cds, but they're not cemented into my memory like some of the songs off the first couple of records are.  There was even a brand new song called "Last Rites", which will appear on the forthcoming cd of the same name.  As for the songs I recognized, they played All Your Sins (covered nicely by Cathedral on their "Echoes of Dirges from the Nave" live lp), Sign of the Wolf, 20 Buck Spin, When the Screams Come, and maybe one or two others (this is what happens when I wait a week or two to write things down). 

As for Liebling, various sources have described his appearance "wretched looking".  Said sources have then gone on to half-jokingly question how much longer he would be alive.  I'd have to agree that he does look much older than his 55 (I think) years, resembling for all the world some wizened wizard, complete with grey hair at his temples and hooked nose.  With a flowing black robe and a pointed hat, he'd truly be scary.  However, he soon showed the audience that he has the energy of a twenty year old, joking around (often incoherently), making faces, grabbing his crotch, dancing, and sometimes entirely disappearing from view (I was towards the back).  Once, I looked up as all I could see was one of his feet sticking straight up into the air next to the guitarist.  As for his voice, it seems to have suffered a bit over the years(he made reference to it, using the word "scratchy", so maybe he had a cold or something), but that's okay because it made him sound less like Ozzy.  The songs, both old and new, have that heavy, sludgy, seventies groove, and the packed club lapped it up.  The music just oozed atmosphere, creating a weird time warp and dragging us all back several decades.  Liebling's seventies-style outfit reinforced this illusion.  At one point, Liebling thanked the audience for  their continued dedication, and laid to rest a recent internet rumor about him being caught in an airport in France with crack cocaine sewn into his socks.  Or at least I think he did.  It was often hard to understand what the hell he was talking about.  

All in all, I think it was a damn good show.  I've been listening to Pentagram for 25 years now (although, truth be told, sometimes years go by without a Pentagram record gracing my turntable), and there's just something about those old bands - maybe it's simply the fact that way back then, there weren't so damn many songs floating around in my head, so each new song I heard was more significant.  It might also be that since I didn't have so many records then, I tended to replay them more often.  Whatever the reason, seeing these songs performed live for the first time after all of these years was pretty special.  

Check them out on Myspace and Wikipedia.

Last year, Paganfest was a mere 10 minute drive away.  This year, it was more like an hour away.  That said, the extra driving time was balanced out by the fact that you could enter the venue in full viking regalia if you wished to do so.  There were no silly signs prohibiting this like there were last year in Santa Clara.  I was almost disappointed to see nobody taking advantage of this new freedom.  Sure, there were some attendees in kilts, but no battle gear of any kind (that is, if one discounts the battle gear being sold at the merch table, right next to the "Odin says tip!" sign).  

The merch table was full of nicely designed shirts, but since my wardrobe already consists mainly of black concert shirts, I resisted forking over any money. 

There was a band already playing when I entered the club.  I knew it couldn't be Swashbuckle, who I thought were going on first, because the members didn't look like pirates.  As it turned out, they were a local band called Cormorant.  The bass player was playing a six string fretless bass, and growling in death metal fashion.  Once I truly started to pay attention to what they were doing, I found myself liking them, especially when they slowed it down and added some variety to the proceedings with some "clean" vocals and haunting melody.  At a mere $8, their cd ep was about the cheapest thing on the merch table, so I made my one purchase for the evening (if I choose to discount the slices of pizza I bought next door between bands, that is). 

Swashbuckle were, as I figured they would be, dressed up like pirates.  They obviously didn't take themselves too seriously.  They more or less stayed in pirate character for their entire set.  I've recently changed my Facebook language setting to "English (pirate)", so for a moment I could imagine I was home in front of the computer.  It's funny hearing a large, bearded pirate shouting:  "San Francisco!  How the fuck are ye?"  Musically, they played thrash metal.  It was entertaining in a live setting, but I think I probably wouldn't listen to the cd much if I owned it.  They ended their set with a question - "who lives in a pineapple under the sea?" - and launched into a metal version of the Spongebob Squarepants theme song. 

Okay.  That was amusing.

Blackguard, from Canada, added a keyboard player to the thrash metal formula.  The singer kept enthusing about how well they'd been received/treated on this tour, it being their first U.S. tour.  They had the Venom hair-windmill thing down perfectly, whipping their heads around in tight little circles as they played.  I've gotta hand it to anybody who can play while doing that.  Twenty years ago I would have been excited about their music too, but from the vantage point of a forty-something they just sounded like another thrash band.  I wish them all the best though.  Towards the end of the set, the singer pulled out a video camera and told the audience that he'd been filming the pits at every date on the tour, and that he'd be uploading them to YouTube after it was all over.  That's one way to get people to dance, I guess - appeal to their competitive natures.  Geez.

Moonsorrow reminded me of Ensiferum, who headlined last year's tour.  There was a bit of viking-era Bathory influence to their sound.  Many of their songs were long, keyboard-laden affairs with hints of folk melody.  The vocals were mainly growled, with occasional wordless, melodic backing vocals.  In the end, I think I would have liked them better if they'd ditched the keyboards and added some strings - maybe a violin or cello. 

Ireland's Primordial is one of the bands I'd most wanted to see, and they didn't disappoint.  Their singer burst onto the stage in full corpsepaint, his bald head and arms smeared in stage blood (if I were to be uncharitable, I'd say he looked a bit like Uncle Fester after a car accident, but the look actually worked pretty well for him).  No keyboards here.  None needed.  Like Tyr last year, Primordial exuded a... well, primordial sound without the benefit of any instrumentation other than the basic drums, bass, and guitar.  The singer actually sings too, with his voice sometimes descending into a black metal rasp, but usually soaring majestically above the doom-laden instrumental assault.  They're one of those bands that manage to invoke a sense of claustrophobia and despair while pummeling along at 100mph.  At one point, while introducing the song "Coffin Ships", about the often disasterous Irish immigration to the new world, the singer asked how many of the audience had Irish blood in them.  After the applause had died down, he deadpanned, "apparently everybody."  Their set seemed short to me, but not as short as Tyr's was last year. 

Korpiklaani, from Finland, play folk metal, and their sound was abetted by accordian and fiddle.  Compared to Primordial, their music sounded deliriously happy, with high speed folk melodies and gruff vocals forming a backdrop for a wide range of dancing styles on the floor in front of the stage.  A lot of people appeared to be pogo-ing, and I found myself moving with the rest of the audience.  I wish they hadn't provided introductions to the songs though.  When the lyrics are in Finnish, I can imagine that the songs are about anything I please.  It's a bit of a letdown (although not much of a surprise) to discover that many of their songs are about drinking and fucking.  Oh well.  Still, I had a blast during their set, and would definitely see them again.
They played an encore, and the vocalist/guitarist came down the stairs playing the first few bars of Rainbow's "Man on a Silver Mountain".  Too bad they didn't actually play the song.  That would have been interesting. 

It'll be interesting to see who makes it over for Paganfest III. 

I had to get the night off work to go to this one.  Wayne drove, and we got there early enough to hit Farley's for some coffee.  It seems that whenever I go to the Bottom of the Hill, I get there too early and have to walk up the hill for coffee.  Maybe it's because the shows there always start late.  Maybe it's because that way I get to drink more coffee.

This one started a few minutes after nine, with The Holy Kiss.  They played songs that sounded like a mixture of punk and a rabid tent revival meeting.  The singer was thin enough to disappear in bad light, and I couldn't tell whether he'd had extensive dental work or his teeth were covered in tin foil.  The guitarist sent staccato shards of sound into the audience, her hands flying over the strings.  Brittle and angry stuff, in an apocalyptic sort of way.  They were definitely good local choice to open for Woven Hand. 

As I was talking to a friend between sets, a roving photo guy from SF Station came up and asked to take our picture for the website.  I'd seen pictures of this type before in the local free papers - people in bars smiling for the camera.  Not really sure what the purpose of it all is.  Perhaps so we can see that we're actually having fun.  Perhaps so advertisers can make money.  Yeah.  That must be it.  Look at the page though.  There are some good pictures from the gig.

Next up were Silver Summit.  They featured the standard rock instrumentation, enhanced by violin, and on some songs, a saz, which was a nice surprise.  All three of the female members sang, which sometimes gave the vocals a beautiful choral feel.  Musically, they reminded me of bands like The Iditarod and Fern Knight, with echoes of Greg Weeks.  In other words, leaning towards the more delicate side of the psych rock genre, with a drifting, haunting feel to the songs.  That said, they did occasionally kick into high gear.  I only wish the violin had been a little louder. 

Woven Hand followed after a bit of a wait.  David Eugene Edwards is a rabid man, given to much twitching, eye rolling, and muttering.  He played a variety of guitars, working the tremolo like a man possessed.   Later on, a lute-like instrument made an appearance as well.  He sang into two different mics, a standard one and an old-fashioned, music hall type mic which made his voice sound dry and sharp, like biting sarcasm at an unexpected moment.  The bassist and drummer pounded away with unrelenting fury, and everything was turned up LOUD!  I could hear a little voice echoing in my head, saying, "it goes to 11!"  He was almost convincing enough to make me mend my godless ways.  Almost.  Definitely lots of fire and brimstone in his lyrics and vocal delivery.  Again I was reminded of tent revivals where people fall writhing to the floor and speak in tongues as dust obscures their thrashing forms. 

It makes for an interesting mental picture, at least.  Wayne and I left with our ears ringing.

I was first introduced to Tuvan throat-singing via Werner Herzog's documentary on Russian Mysticism, Bells From the Deep.  The film contained a brief scene featuring a young throat singer emitting strange, enchanting frog-like vocalizations, often sounding like two people at once (I would later come to know it as overtone singing).  Needless to say, I was hooked.  Luckily, Herzog himself was present at the screening, and somebody beat me to the punch in asking him about the scene, to which he replied, "It's a Tuva singer."  Anybody who has seen any of Herzog's documentaries knows that Herzog is after a concept he calls "ecstatic truth", which bears little relation to actual (or accountant's) truth.  Ecstatic truth is a deeper sort of truth, and Herzog plays fast and loose with actual "facts" in order to reach this truth.  Due to this, his documentaries can be frustratingly uninformative when one needs to know something.  This is why I say that it was lucky Herzog was in attendance and could clarify that particular point.  If he hadn't been, I might have forever been in the dark and you wouldn't be reading this article. 

Of course, at the time, there were virtually no Tuvan cds on the market.  I found one song on Voices of Forgotten Worlds, a multi disc compilation of world music, and a cd by a singer named Sainkho Namtchylak.   Sainkho is definitely worth tracking down, but much of her work diverges quite widely from traditional Tuvan music - most of her output has more in common with the likes of Diamanda Galas.  I had actually purchased her most traditional cd that day back in the early nineties - "Out of Tuva."

Fast forward to 2007 and we find no shortage of Tuvan musicians.  Huun-Huur-Tu are probably the best known, with bands like Yat-Kha and Chirgilchin also touring widely.  I've seen a number of Tuvan concerts over the years, but this was my first time seeing Tyva Kyzy (T'va K'say), an all-female group of throat singers.  The concert was introduced by the guy (at the moment, his name escapes me) who runs the very helpful Tuva Trader website.  He asked for a show of hands from people who had heard male throat singers before.  Many hands went up.  Then he asked for a show of hands from people who had heard female throat singers before.  Fewer hands went up, but still enough to impress him.  He told us that in Tuva, one in three males are throat singers, but only about 50 women in the whole country practice the art.  He then went on to explain that the next song, featuring khomus (jaw harp) and cha khomus (bow harp, much like Buffy Sainte-Marie sometime uses) was actually kind of a game, where the women not playing would try to guess the subtext of the song - in other words, the khomus player would shape her mouth to form words while playing.  This became evident when the song started, with the musicians listening and sometimes nodding their heads and silently laughing.  After this, we were treated to a demonstration of the seven styles of Tuvan throat singing.  After this, the band launched into an evening of songs played on the igil (Tuva's version of the violin) and other traditional instruments, including a type of dulcimer, shaman's drum, rattles, etc.  The vocalists sometimes sang together, sometimes solo.  Due to the nature of throat singing, it often sounded like there were more vocalists than there actually were.

After a short intermission, giving the audience a chance to swarm the merchandise table (I bought Tyva Kyzy's debut cd, Setkilemden Sergek Yr-Dyr/A Cheerful Song From My Soul, and drooled over the more expensive how-to book/cd on overtone singing), Tyva Kyzy came back on and played a second set, culminating with an encore of Chuguruk (if I'm getting that right), a song usually sung by male singers.  In this version, the song changes from being about horses and beautiful women to being about horses and brave men.  Tuvan culture places great importance on the horse.  Most of the songs have rhythms reminiscent of galloping horses.

It was a real treat to hear an all-female Tuvan band.  Sometimes the vocals were in the high-pitched style that I (possibly due to my ignorance) generally associate with female folk singers from other asian cultures.  Sometimes it was in the low-pitched, guttural kargyraa style.  Sometimes both at once.  I don't pretend to be expert enough to make a distinction between all of the different styles of throat singing, but the information is out there for those who want to know more.  Pure Nature Music offers workshops and camps. 

The next day, Tyva Kyzy were scheduled to play a concert at a school in the poor Hunter's Point district as a thank you to a local arts organization that had helped promote the Great American Music Hall show.  Hope the kids liked it.

As for me, I've been inspired to pull out all of my Tuvan cds and listen to them again.  Due to the excessive nature of my cd consumption over the years, it's going to take awhile.