Guitar Wolf Bassist Hideaki Sekiguchi Dead at 38

Guitar Wolf bassist Hideaki Sekiguchi, known to fans as Billy, died Wednesday of heart failure at age 38. Sekiguchi's heart had stopped in his sleep at home the previous night, and he later died in a Tokyo hospital, said publicist Billy Nord of Narnack Records. Sekiguchi had no prior history of heart problems. He leaves behind his wife Naoko and two children; his funeral is scheduled for April 6 in Tokyo.

The band had just returned Sunday from a monthlong North American tour, and were slated to play an April 9 show in Tokyo before touring Australia. All future dates have been cancelled, and the band's continued existence is uncertain. In an odd coincidence, Narnack was already preparing an expanded U.S. release of I Love Guitar Wolf Very Much, a tribute album featuring the Coachwhips, the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, Lightning Bolt, J. Mascis and the Fog, and Puffy AmiYumi, among others. The album came out last year in Japan and will be issued in the U.S. soon, Nord said.

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30 Seconds

The average commercial is 30 seconds long, and lately those precious seconds have been set to the music of sweet indie tunes. Here are a few:

Target -- "Say Something New" by the Concretes
Aspen Edge Beer -- "Mahgeetah" by My Morning Jacket
Arrowhead Water -- "Oh Sweet Susanna" by The Mooney Suzuki
General Motors -- "Bohemian Like You" by The Dandy Warhols
Hummer (!!) -- "Seventeen Years" by Ratatat
K-Mart -- "That Great Love Song" by The Raveonettes
Nissan -- "Surfin' On a Rocket" by Air
Nissan -- "Gravity Rides Everything" by Modest Mouse
Nissan -- "A Good Man is Easy to Kill" by Beulah
HBO -- "C'mon C'mon" by The Von Bondies
Nintendo -- "Strict Machine" by Goldfrapp

and of course,
Volkswagen -- "Pink Moon" by Nick Drake


One of my favorite commercials is the Pepsi ad with the girl in a hotdog suit who meets a guy in a Pepsi suit. They used Blind Melon's "No Rain." That video was really cool, too.

Y Kant Tori Leave

Tori Amos' Boys for Pele was one of the first cds I owned as a kid. My older, cooler, cousin bought it for me when I was in sixth or seventh grade -- I can't really remember, to tell the truth. All I can recall was that I liked a few songs on the album, and either fell asleep to, or didn't understand, the rest. I also remember being shocked by Tori's wail of "STAAAAARFUCKER, just like my daddy" on "Professional Widow." I liked Tori, though. Not too much, but enough; she made playing the piano seem cool, which meant a lot to an asian girl who diligently played her piano every day, growing up.

I kind of forgot about her after that album, though, and went back to fetishizing the Smashing Pumpkins and STP.

Senior year of high school, however, I got back into Tori Amos in a HUGE way. My friend Hero and I mooned over every album, especially Little Earthquakes and Under the Pink. In fact we were so in love with this crazy, red-haired, uber-feminist, that we imagined reasons for liking her atrocious covers album, Strange Little Girls. It had come out earlier that year, and we had coughed up 55 fucking dollars to get nosebleed seats for the supporting concert in LA.

Looking back on it now I can admit that yes, after Little Earthquakes, it was all downhill. Each album became less accessible, lyrically, and more akin to New Age, or Adult Pop Music, musically. I guess Tori was getting older. With her first album she had shocked audiences – channeling raw emotion into powerful lyrics and original music solely composed, classically, with pianos. She was an original, uncontrollable, unpredictable, and easily set-off, twenty-something redhead (though I hear she dyes her hair, and is a natural brunette). On stage she would gyrate and noisily wail while pounding on both (!) pianos – and off-stage she was known as a generous woman who reached out to her fans (often rape victims and gay men)- so much so that she was known for her pre-show and post-show “meet and greets.”

It’s been fifteen years since she debuted as that flame of a woman. Now she’s a mother, a wife... and a really bad musician. Her fanbase is still incredibly devoted; she continues to sell out shows, and her aging fans (dubbed “Ears with Feet”) still sit in huge concert halls, donning fairy wings (apparently they call her “The Fairy Queen”) for the occasion. But these days Tori has resorted to milking those fans for what they’re worth: she charges more than fifty dollars for tickets to her shows, has published an autobiography, and continues to put out unnecessary albums and live recordings that only those diehards would want to buy. She should have known when to end things -- in a burst of flames in the early '90s. Instead she has slowly piddled out, sucking away her fans' dignity, along with her own.

It’s sad, really, because I’ll always hold a place in my heart for her. I’ll keep singing along to “Silent All These Years” (much to the annoyance of my male friends- and well-balanced female ones) and I’ll probably buy the dvd of her collected music videos... if it ever comes out (stupid bitch!). On the upside, I guess she’s sort of a MILF now.

ps. I saw Andy Dick at one of her shows.

Skateboarding at Dartmouth: Synopsis

Riding Dartmouth: Over 300 years of history and architecture clashes with a few kids who want to ride it…but not really destroy it.

Extreme skateboarding and the Ivy League – what do they have in common? Nothing really, except one or two kids here and there like me. We are the few neighborhood skate punks who broke the mold and somehow got through the Ivy League admissions process reminiscent of post-9/11 airport security. Sorry Mr. Admissions Officer, I forgot to write in my application that I would be conquering all the 8-stairs on campus and incessantly scraping paint off all the railings with the trucks on my skateboard. I’m glad you liked my accomplishments though.

Dartmouth College’s campus features plenty of ramps, curbs, ledges, stairs, rails, and construction zones that are just begging to be ridden. I really enjoy the absence of “No Skateboarding” signs here. No one thought to put them up. After all, what good ol’ Ivy League boy would ever want to skateboard? The idea seems preposterous. When students want recreation, they will of course join the crew team. Or the sailing team. Or maybe the golf team (get out the plaid pants…you know you love them). The plain fact is we skaters are way too few and far between to even be noticed. And thank God. It makes it a lot easier to have fun.

Of course, we all miss our “crews” back home, our buds who we would see regularly at the local skate shop, who we would play Skate with after school. Sometimes it is lonely being one of the few skaters on campus, not to mention one of the very few out of that group who actually can land tricks. But the good thing about feeling like an “outcast” is that I can get a lot more heartfelt about what I am doing. When I cross another skater on campus, I treat him like family. We feel elitist about what we do. We feel united by a common bond. Not like back home, where every kid on the block can varial-flip.

In short, while I know my kind are a small group who are never going to grow into larger numbers, I feel confident that we will never die out, because our situation brings us close and makes us strong. There will always be at least one or two Ivy League kids who skate hardcore. You might see us occasionally in the street. And we will always be underground. It is like The Casualties say, “We’re the f***ing punks, we’re few but we are real, the way we f***ing feel, this noise is for real.” Skate hard.

Spring is Alive in Song

Why are Bob Pollard and his infinite songs so essential?

Because you can't turn them off. They dig into your brain and stay there forever.

Most left him for dead 3 albums before Guided By Voices called it a day. Hell, most people think his solo career is for lunatics and addicts only.

But if you take a dip into Dayton and trust this man, a mortal, but a crazy, beautiful pop genius with your heart (because Lord knows no one would trust him with their brains), you will be rewarded with the greatest gift on Earth.

A song. A song that will let you rest easy with the world on your shoulders. A song that will remind you what you love and why you love it. A song that will remain in your soul for weeks, months, years, and probably the rest of your days.

Bob Pollard is the man who writes those songs.

Thank you, Fading Captain.

"Zoom (It Happens All Over the World)" from the Zoom (It Happens All Over the World) EP, Robert Pollard's first music release since the disbanding of Guided by Voices.

Trust the Wizard

Robert Pollard and his band of merry men are quite simply one of the greatest rock and roll bands to ever grace the face of this Earth.

That being said, most people think Guided By Voices' essential output began with 1994's Bee Thousand (affectionally referred to as b000 by us online types). That behemoth of lo-fi pop-rock glory might have dug 4th grade teacher Bobby and his almost middle-aged buddies right back out of the obscure grave they had dug themselves in Dayton, Ohio- and it's no secret that b000 is one of the best albums of the 90s, and hell, for my money, ever- but it would be a mistake to call it their first worthwhile outing. Not even close! Guided By Voices had been making records worth hearing since 1987. And Ohio is the worst place on Earth.

But I'm not here to talk about their first album, Sandbox (1987), or their sophomore outing, Devil Between My Toes(1987). Or Ohio, for that matter. Instead I'd like to shed some light on my personal favorite of the pre-b000 period, Guided By Voice's fantastically titled third album, Self-Inflicted Aerial Nostalgia (1989).

Bob fondly recalls the experience of recording Self-Inflicted Aerial Nostalgia in an early interview:

"In 1989 we did 500 copies of Self-Inflicted Aerial Nostalgia which was recorded in the snakepit and again on Steve's 8-track. The sound got fucked up in the pressing, but I OK's it anyway because I'm so impatient."

Yes, it's noisy, yes, it's ugly, and, yes, it's downright strange at times. It's totally classic rock obsessed, too (it's no secret that Bob is heavily influenced by classic rock, and this is especially prevalent in the early albums.) And yet, all of this makes for a rather beautiful mess of an amazing record.

Reverbed out tom hits open the album in "The Future is in Eggs," and upon my first listens, I would openly make fun of how fucking weird this song is. Sure, Pollard is known for cryptic lyrics, but here his voice just sounds so eager and desperate as he hauntingly sings, "Floating on a leg/Pissing from a keg/The future is in eggs/The future is in eggs." Even the experts can't quite figure out what's being said here, and it's fitting. But it's a hook. And I'll never forget standing in a store in Scotland, singing to myself, "The future is in eggs!" and thinking, "what the fuck?" immediately after.

Is it all weird? No, but we do slide into the dark caverns of eerie and weird Pollard on a few other occasions. "Slopes of Big Ugly" might be the eeriest GBV track this side of "The Ugly Vision." On the other side of the weird token, we get the helium tinged vocals on the tiny tune and album highlight, "Dying to Try This." Fans of b000's "Kicker of Elves" need apply. And everyone else, too.

Then there's the classic rock. "The Great Blake Street Canoe Race" is an instant classic, motoring around on cock-rocking solos while it disects the banalities of daily life. It also discloses one of Pollard's more overt nuggets of wisdom: "Learn something old every day." Elsewhere "Navigating Flood Regions," "White Whale," and "Trampoline" bring the rock like it was brought in the 60s and 70s. The lo-fi noise and distortion really give the songs a new life of their own.

But when you get through the weird and the classic rock ideas GBV were developing, you're left with some of the band's absolute finest moments:

"Paper Girl" bursts out of a noisy rock record with an acoustic, hand claps, and beautiful harmonies? Awesome 60s psych pop, and early proof of Pollard's melodic genius. A gem of a song, reminiscent of something like the stunning little "Hey Aardvark" that National Pop League and I have been fawning over these last few days. Both are sublime, but "Paper Girl" has this dreamlike haze about it. Whatever they fucked up in the pressing, they need to do that again.

I owe my love of SIAN to none other than "Chief Barrel Belly." When a muppet, National Pop League, and I trekked down to Pier 54 in NYC on a whim to catch our last glimpse of the Fading Captain, he taught us much. He taught us that the fun never stops at the fun factory, and, that "this next song is off an old album called Self-Inflicted Aerial Nostalgia and it's called 'Chief Barrel Belly.'" Soon after, I had to check this album out. Because, "He said 'love/is the one/thing we needed in this world/to be happy.'"

"Liar's Tale" was always rumored by National Pop League to be one of the best Guided By Voices tracks, and I always kind of brushed it off, since it was on the obscure SIAN and all he had seen was the live rendition on his The Who Went Home and Cried DVD. Well, I saw it, and I was a believer. "Liar's Tale" was the first track of the album I ever heard, and it's probably the best. Simply put, it's a tremelo'd out cautionary tale about flighty wives and the sad characters we let inhabit our own narratives. It's one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard. In fact, the album should probably end on, "Let me tell you a story/about/the way/she was."

But, you must trust the wizard. Trust him always. "Radio Show(Trust the Wizard)" is no accident, though the splicing at the end of the track might be. It closes the curtains on a solid GBV effort with another brilliant drunken sing-a-long..."it's another day today" for Bob Pollard, indeed.

Those 3 tracks, along with "Dying to Try This" make Self-Inflicted Aerial Nostalgia essential for any casual GBV fan (read: those who only know b000 and Alien Lanes), anyone who appreciates rock music, and pretty much anyone who wants to know what was going on in the basements of Dayton, Ohio in 1989.

But it's just a reminder that Bob Pollard deserves to live in a rock and roll castle and rule over Rock and Roll Land. And a reminder of how oblivious a universe you live in when such a triumphant effort loaded with such great tunes, blood, sweat, and tears is relegated to 500 12" circles of black plastic. At least you can get it now in the Box box set. I sincerely hope you do.

"Short on Posters" live from Boston, 7/17/02 on GBV.com

If you're a die-hard like National Pop League and I, you're invited to spring BBQs with lots of cheap beer and Guided By Voices blasting.

He's Worth 900 Kronor

Jens Lekman, not to be confused with other bandaged artists, is one of the coolest people in music today. The Swede ties together strings, drums, handclaps, horns, and just about every other kind of sample you can imagine with his syrupy voice and striking pop sensibility. Baroque, theatrical pop reminiscent of Stephin Merritt, but pulled off with even greater bombast and style. Jens is like Stephin's less bitter, more goofy, less gay little brother.

Lately, I've been exploring the young Swede's back catalogue, and it's not quite as sparse as I expected. His debut album only came out last year, but was the fruitation of 4 years of songwriting. The album did decently among most major critics, but I still think of it as the lost gem of 2004. Maybe "lost" is stretching it, but it's definately one of the best offerings of a pretty dreck year. Either way, Lekman is one of the only new artists in 2004 that really got my blood pumping about music. Except for maybe these guys.

But back to the back catalogue. His various EPs contain some fantastic b-sides that rank among his best work, especially "Black Cab" from the Maple Leaves EP, "I Saw Her at the Anti-War Demonstration" from the You Are a Light EP, and "A Sweet Summer's Night on Hammer Hill" from the Julie EP, the latter of which "is a romantiziced look-back on Jens´young life in the Göteborgian suburbs." It's summery and sublime.

Among his numerous lost songs, I stumbled across his CD-R EP I Killed A Party Again. Limited to only 100 copies, it's explained by Jens as, "drunken sad teenage confessions, words of wisdom. all caught on my little dictaphone when i was 15. plus a couple of songs on these topics. only for sale at shows."

How does it sound? Well, you can see how 15 year-old Jens grew up, and it's really interesting to get a glimpse of his shiny studio personality fooling with lo-fi samples, acoustic guitars, and field recordings. The melodies are fantastic, and the teenage lyrics memorable ("I remember punk rock chicks with orange hair" from "REC (at Saltholmen)").

Alright, alright, I would not tease. For the uninitiated:

"A Sweet Summer's Night on Hammer Hill"
Jens' Little Journal
"You Are A Light" Video

And a special treat:

I Killed A Party Again EP

And one last thing:

"I Don't Know if She's Worth 900 Kronor" from his split with El Perro Del Mar