Notes From The Outer Richmond

MUTANT SOUNDS: V/A-ALPHABETICAL UPLOADS OF WHACKED OUT SINGLES PT. 9

2008-10-14T21:49:00.000-07:00

MUTANT SOUNDS: V/A-ALPHABETICAL UPLOADS OF WHACKED OUT SINGLES PT. 9
Featuring one of the first Birdman singles!!!

New John "Piano Red" Williams Recordings Found

2008-03-25T16:21:00.000-07:00

Piano Red with Sleepy John Estes

The Late Great Bengt Olsson passed away last month, and with him goes the treasure of stories he collected by roaming and recording the blues in the late 60s south. While the Rolling Stones and their English contemporaries rediscovered the great Muddy Waters, Mississippi Fred MacDowell, Sun House, et al, Olsson traveled from his native land of Sweden to record the obscure artists that would otherwise have been completely forgotten. Birdman purchased all of Bengt's recordings a few years back and recently released those by the great Bishop Perry Tillis. More recently. the folks at Birdman discovered a vast amount of John "Piano Red" Williams tracks as well, an artist who was never on a label and has little-to-no known recordings. With plans of a release this year, Birdman has decided to leak a signature instrumental track, "Red's Boogie." You can buy it by pushing the button below:

To Be A Modern Lover

2007-01-18T23:17:00.000-08:00

I am sitting here on this otherwise quiet night listening to the Bomp 1981 release of the "72" "Original" Modern Lovers sessions that Kim Fowley oversaw. Primitive, haphazard...like a kinder, gentler White Light/White Heat (Velvet Underground)...with keyboards sticking out above everything else and guitar fuzz as out of place and awkward as Jonathan's vocals...but damn if it does sound great and essential. Roadrunner (both versions) is fantastic and true to its classic rock n roll nature. But the never-officially released WALK UP THE STREET might be the shimmering gem here. A dark, driving monosyllabic riff, that could go on forever as far as I care, about the empowerment of acknowledged idleness: feelin' the romance of a boredom that is lost in this work-a-day world. Dig it. It is no wonder that once-fellow Boston-walkers THE CHEATERSLICKS found the wanting to cover the song years and years later on In The Red Records (their thicker version is sensational, as are they).

The back of the album has a letter from Jonathan himself discussing how the liner notes to the record are wrong in most every sense (mostly that this recording did not boast the original Modern Lovers since the band had very early on gone through a member change, and that the claim is wrong that these are the 72 sessions--the tracks were recorded a year later). He ends by saying that while he is embarrassed of some of what is heard, he admits that the band rocks and that some of the versions have great Jonathan banter that still makes him laugh. The fact that the Bompsters reprinted the letter without changing the "incorrect" liner notes or the "misleading" album title is nothing less than brilliant.

I got this record in a lucky way back over a decade ago when Geoffrey Weiss helped me get entrance to Greg Shaw's Bomp warehouse. I walked around the cluttered space like a detective, picking out amazing punk and psych singles that were still around from the time they were originally distributed. Then I espied the treasure I was after...and that treasure sounds fantastic right now.

RIP Greg Shaw, a true visionary...Greg, sorry I never let you explain to me my future path that you saw in a dream (the concept at the time freaked me out).

Listening to this record tonight incited an on-line crawl about the band. The brilliance of the internet: I had no idea a teenage Jonathan opened up for the Velvets. No idea that they played with a young Arrowsmith, NY Dolls, and Wayne County or that Jonathan went to New York and hung out at Warhol's factory. I had no idea that Danny Fields and the jerky Marty Thou were as close to him as they were (Danny Fields being one of the biggest heroes this industry has ever seen). No idea that while in Berkeley, Jonathan fell into being the original drummer for The Patti Smith Group and no idea he recorded I'M STICKING WITH YOU with Mo Tucker! I had no idea that the original Modern Lovers (okay, the close-to-the-original Modern Lovers) broke up the month that VU did, and a month before the Ramones began. Amazing story. If Joanthan was not so awkward to talk to, I would love to ask him about all of this stuff when I see him walking around San Francisco.

Ah, as I write, the second side just finished for the second time. I think I am going to have to start going through all the Modern Lovers records now (and dig out some other demos I found in a closet while at Warner Bros.). It is going to be a rocking rocking night here in the Outer Richmond.

Master Of The Suave

2006-11-07T23:59:00.000-08:00

My Uncle Mike loved Jazz and was a collector of Jazz records. For some reason, we never got a chance for a good, long listening session together, but I grew up looking at the spines of the Impulse records he had collected in his den, right next to an ancient solid state wall mount stereo system and turntable. I also remember him telling me about his long talks with Billie Holiday, as she sat in the waiting room of her psychiatrist in San Francisco (my uncle was a doctor in the nearby office). He was very much into early swing near the end of his life, annotating his collection, hoping to eventually record his 78s onto cassette so he could listen to them more easily. We both looked for a needle that would fit his player to accomplish said task, but it was not to be.

Upon my Uncle’s death, I inherited that part of his record collection that his kids did not want and as much of his tape collection as I could carry out the door. His tapes he stored in homemade wood holders. At least 100 homemade cassettes of various artists (the Artie Shaw one holds an amazing collection). I took the choicest case-full and they are in the car. His records: wow, a true treasure. Coltrane, Art Tatum, Duke Ellington, Ben Webster, Coleman Hawkins. Cal Tjader and Lois Armstrong.

And then, there were the Don Shirley records. I had never heard of the Jamaican-born Don Shirley…this ultra-suave and sweet pianist from the fifties and sixties brought to fame by Arthur Fiedler and Duke Ellington. Mostly playing as a duo, with a bass accompanyment, his record covers looked very stylish and intriguing, but upon first listen they seemed too light and lethargic. They went to my one-away-from-get-rid-of-pile, and stayed there like an inmate on death row.

Then one evening, about a year ago during a time of slight heaviness, I caught myself staring at ORPHEUS IN THE UNDERWORLD. The haunting painting showing-off on the cover looked like a Magnasco, and then I realized Shirley had done it himself. The record was an improvised take on the Orpheus legend, and its somber, beautiful coloring carried me through the evening and onto the next day. The other two records of my uncles are just below equal stellar footing and paint a picture through an an ethereal region of Jazz much as Josh White painted his Blues sound-aqua during the same time period. Shirley's piano playing flows like organized ocean waves, weaving wonderful melodies through the tides of ethereal tonal movements.

As I write on this misty Outer Richmond night, the air inside my apartment is fog-fuzzy and the dimmed light from the moon is bouncing warmly off the molecules surrounding it. I am listening to Shirley's Improvisations With Duo on Cadence, and he is as silly smooth as ever. But groovy, and pacifying, like a candle, as the room fills with warmth.

I recently found his e-mail on his home page and chatted with a student of his. Mr. Shirley has been in and out of good health recently, but he is most definitely still around and still plays (at least in his New York apartment). The painting of Orpheus In The Underworld is on his wall. He loves getting messages from fans.

Thank you Uncle Mike for such a wonderful gift. The best sort of gift: a new appreciation for an artist I had never known…and many of his great records, that I never have need to search for!

While The Many Were Away...

2006-09-06T00:29:00.000-07:00

With the Bay Bridge closed-up (pretty much) and the Burning Man generation out of town doing their yearly pilgrimage, San Francisco had a wonderful, vacuous, airy and easy feel to it. Reminded me of the mid-eighties, when there seemed to be no one real scene…but instead a quilt of randoms hitting various clubs and checking out different pallets of live music. Easygoing and mellow.

And yes, being offered this weekend was great live performances that electrified comfortably filled clubs. For me, it started after an aborted attempt to reach Mississippi for the annual Turner Family Goat Picnic. 17 hours in a bunch of airports and a fear of being stuck in a Chicago Airport Hotel for the night was all I needed to hit it back home. But if I had landed in Senatobia, I would never have experienced the amaizing musical Sunday night presented.

Greg Ashley started it at The Make-Out room playing solo and showing off his ever-impressive finger picking/strumming/hard-made-easy guitar playing. His set featured songs from the solo record he is currently recording, including a favorite that I THINK is called Life In Prison. The psychadelic wonderboy entranced the crowd and then got up and jumpped out, going to play with the Colossal Yes at the Rite Spot. The headliner of the evening, Tarnation, was at least an hour away. So, I caught a couple of middle-band Winter Flower’s set and then jetted off to catch Greg one more time.

The Colossal Yes were in the middle of their set when I got there. Utrillo Kushner from Comets On Fire is the main man of this trio, playing piano and singing songs he has supposedly been recording in the crevice of his apartment for years (I have to get a hold of the new record). With drummer Garrett Goddard from The Cuts juxtaposing Kushner's gentle but driving playing with valiumed Keith Moon bashes of his own, the songs sounded seventies-sweet and alive (especially huddled around a lone tumbler of whisky, making pretend it was my world being sung about).

Fifteen minutes after their set, Greg took the "stage" and, with Kushner and Goddard, went through a swell version of Apple Pie And Genocide (from the record MEDICINE FUCK DREAM, released finally on vinyl this month). And while I would have loved to see the rest of the set, it was Tarnation time...so I hit it on back to the Make Out. Their new record is coming out on Birdman in February (it is a mighty one, to be sure) , and the set was plum-full of ripe, new songs of sadness. Paula's voice sounded beautiful (how many ways can one describe its signature angelic quality?), and her constant stage compainion Patrick Main (keyboards/background vox/Oranger) filled the room with fragrent garnishes rich. Totally lulling and euphric with a hint country twang amist the dark mirror-ball slowdances. Special note: the killer classic Voxx guitar employed by Frazer to set the tone.

My ship sailed (the show over), I was blasted tired, so I scooted on home to watch Phantom Ship on ARCHIVE.ORG. No playa dust, but with the crisp air of the outer richmond swirlling around.

Magic Carpet: A Tasty Trip

2006-08-26T00:09:00.000-07:00

For the listener who craves the deep, warm, dark green and forest brown, fog-drenched Indian influenced psychedelia that chartered its way out of San Francisco in the late sixties/early seventies, this reissue of the Magic Carpet’s debut record (on Magic Carpet Records) will ring a true chord. The band hailed from the UK…no where near the flower children of the Haight, but their brand of “Eastern Psych Folk” is close kin to After Bathing At Baxter’s era Jefferson Airplane and calls to order the Bay Area folk revival scene going on today: in a time of Devendra Banhart’s elfin freakiness, Joanna Newsom’s evil-angel resurrections, and the resurgence of interest in Vashti Bunyan, the Magic Carpet’s 1972 lost classic could not sound fresher. Alisha Sufit is a charmed chanteuse whose dark voice is crystal clear and mesmerizing; Clem Alford’s sitar playing is top notch and truly psychedelic. The songs come as old friends (favorite: “Father Time”) and hang in the air as mysteries leading to the sweet 20+ minute instrumental raga not found on the original issue of the record. Top notch rainy day fun, a perfect bong stuffer for the holidays.
(this post originally appeared on The Aquarius Records List)

The Last Of The West Side Groovers

2006-08-13T09:51:00.000-07:00

On August 2nd, Texas tenor great Rocky Morales lost his long battle with cancer. He was 65. I was first introduced to Rocky by longtime friend and band mate Doug Sahm when recording the Texas Tornados record FOUR ACES. Rocky entered the control room with his famous stagger-but-not-fall stride, looked up through his beat-era specs and smiled a mouth of teeth bent into a welcoming matt for his sax's mouthpiece.

Rocky was a driving force of the San Antonio R&B sound, which was a mixture of classic 50's R&B/Doo-Wap with a tejano twist (becoming more prominent with his band The Westside Horn Section, also featuring Al Gomez, Louie Bustos and Spot Barnet). He was fronting the Markays in 1959, when he first played with genre-defying Sahm, recording the song "Why Why Why" for Harlem records. For the rest of Sahm's life the two would collaborate, and much of what I know about Rocky came from Doug. Doug credited his tenor sax man for being the secret weapon between his genius style meshings, and talked of Rocky as a modern day hard-living beatnic who would quietly iterate deep philosophical musings of music and survival in between sips of his ever present can of beer.

Rocky played with a sweet, cascading style: part Lester Young, part Herb Hardesty (Imperial R&B king blower), part nameless troubadour in a nameless club in New York in the mid-seventies. The band would be chorusing a number by T-Bone Walker or Johnny Ace and Sahm would shout the famous call to arms: "ROCCCKKKKYYYYYYYY" signaling Morales to step up and show his wings.

He was one of those people who treated you like a trusted brother, and I will miss him I will also miss the signature tejano-R&B fused sound that he helped create that will never be heard again. Truly one of the great contributors to American music. Great places to hear Rocky's art: FOUR ACES by the Texas Tornados, EL MOLINO--the debut record by Joe King Carrasco, and THE BEST OF DOUG SAHM AND THE SIR DOUGLASS QUINTET. Thank you Bill Bentley for introducing me to all of this.

You Tube, Classic TV, and Music

2006-08-13T06:48:00.000-07:00

Ah, Television...or as the Touch Me Not's yell: HEY, TELEVISION...my brother calls it the idiot box and I have all but wiped it out of my life since getting back to SF a few years ago. Props to free TV that I get from my little bnw: KMTP (Ch. 32) with the greatest news programming around, and Ch. 2 with Dennis Richmond and Giants Baseball.

But ain't it just grand when a fad gets big enough to be represented on a big time comedy or drama? How about Mike Patton's name check on a recent soap? Nice. Or how about Dragnet's LSD episode in the 60s? Too bad the tripper had to die...too bad for us all.

I started geeking out on You Tube recently, trying to find some of my favorite music genre infusions into big time television. Here are 5 fun ones for your viewing pleasure:

1. Quincy Punk Rock Episode : My former WB A&R associate Barry Squire plays the drums in this obnoxious punk outfit. Oh, if the scene was ever this scene-ish.
2. SCUM on WKRP in Cincinatti (band plays 18 minutes into it): Act punk, play like Styx. WKRP never really got the punk thing, but managed to put together a humorous if not painful salute.
3. CHIPS Punk Rock Episode (Pt. 1 and Pt. 2): I DIG PAIN. Probably the classic amongst classic of punk-goes-to-television (besides the Donahue Punk episode with real punk rockers talking about real punk problems)
4. Flatt & Scruggs on Beverly Hillbillies : They wrote the theme, and they perform wonderfully on the show...
5. JAZZ on Kung Fu: The favorite piece that I found. Grasshopper on flute, accompanied by Cannonball Adderly and Jose Feliciano. Unbelievable.

More to come, and feel free to post with your own findings.

The Lovely Baths Of Baxter

2006-08-12T16:27:00.000-07:00

It is a beautiful Saturday afternoon here in the Outer Richmond…a gentle translucent fog sunbathes on the pacific ocean...the breeze plays kind in the afternoon shine. The turntable revolves and “my head is feeling fine.” And as hippie as it all might sound, I give you a resounding PEACE, listening to the day-perfect classic-bit-of-psychedelia recorded by long-lived Outer Richmond residents: The Jefferson Airplane.

I was not a Jefferson Airplane fan when Steve Turner of Mudhoney turned me on to AFTER BATHING AT BAXTER'S, telling me it was one of the great treasures of all psychedelia. Many of their records had either been overplayed or did not have the right edge for me (and Slick’s vocals often annoyed). But this third record, released in 1967—a mere ten months after the
huge hit Surrealistic Pillow-- and produced by longtime movie-music-maven Henri Mancini engineer Al Schmitt, is itself a soundtrack—this time of the psychedelic generation. The record is un-commercial and definitely dated paisley; but the strong songs and musical arrangements dictate it’s relevance, and empower it over musical neighbors such as "Her Majesty’s Satanic Request" and "Revolver" because it is spoken by the San Francisco acid literate themselves. Amen.

As it was known, the Airplane’s sound much depended on who Slick was sleeping with. This was her Paul Kantner period (I’ve seen the photos), who co-wrote and sang most of the album’s tracks. But this record ultimately is a band experience, which is obvious from the album’s opener, “The Ballad Of You and Me and Pooneil” where the wonderful blues-riffing melodies degenerate into a dark instrumental bridge, forecasting the royal green and brown raga-ish meditations to come.

The true San Francisco electric groove (also see Moby Grape’s “Hey Grandma”) on “Young Girl Sunday Blues” saddles one of my favorite Airplane canters, with the epic chorus screaming “TODAY IS FILLED WITH YESTERDAY AND TOMORROW!!!!!” Leave your body behind?! Later track “Wild Tyme” is another acid test sing-along, always skipping twice for some reason on my copy, right where Slick, Kantner and Balin sing, “IT’S A WILLLLLLLD TIME!!!” Comparable to THE COMMON PEOPLE’s debut, the musical arrangements give an ethereal depth to side 1, concluding with“Rejoice” where Slick’s voice, understatedly showcased, purrs haunting and beautiful .

Side two features “Spare Change Shizoforest Love Suite” (see FLAMING LIPS for equally crazed song titles) with its opening trance percussions littered with fuzzy pickings and electronics--the ultimate time travel back sound of the LSD generation: mysterious, cozy, and on the sentimental side of a nightmare. Side two flows together dreamily from song to song, connected by slow and meandering guitar jams, reverberations and other 60s studio trickery closing with the song that brings me back to today “Won’t You Try/Saturday Afternoon.” It is a mellow anti-climactic ending that resolves the listener to continue the kick-back after the needle picks up…maybe by throwing on The Sir Douglass Quintet or Easter Everywhere…any catalyst that continues the musical voyage through the day.

AFTER BATHING AT BAXTER'S definitely took a few warming listens. It is not what you would expect, and comes in clothes that are already well warn (not the cover, which is classic Ron Cobb artwork). The patient ear is rewarded with a wonderfully executed musical idea from a band that had newfound success and an amazing amount of musical confidence and daring.

North Beach Jazz Fest: Where is the Jazz?

2006-07-30T22:15:00.000-07:00

It was hard to find some Jazz at the North Beach Jazz festival this weekend. I realize that in this Bonaroo generation, there is power in combining musical styles and showcasing them together, without boundaries. But starting on Thursday Night on Grant Street and riding throughout the weekend, there was a lack of the core style and wayyyyy too much Jam Band bah-foo. In general (with the odd exception in the crevices): no hard bop, no dixiland, no big band swing, no free-form cutting edge…nothing (and if there was, it was sure hard to find, and definitely not in the headlining spots, and most definitely not for free).

The festival boasted some mighty names: Will Bernard (who I worked with at the WB), New Monsoon, the wonderful Rondo Brothers, Lee Cleary and the Stooges Brass Band from New Orleans. But none of these artists were playing a signature style of Jazz—the Stooges came the closest (ripping off last year’s headliner The Rebirth Brass Band), until they broke into their hip-hop crowd pandering shout-outs while covering Jackson 5 and the Commodores. YUCK!!!!!

In Washington Square Park, the DJs in between the sets more often played rap and dance music. There was no Jazz to be found. In a town that boasts the likes of Ben Goldberg, the Broun Fellinis, Joshua Redman, Weasel Walter and Graham Connah, there is no reason not to infuse some Jazz into a Jazz event. Hell, bring back Charlie Hunter!!

The Fillmore Street Jazz Fest a few months back, while not as prestigious, embraced the music style advertised on the Marquee. Example…main stage: the Junior Jazzers, the band from the Berkeley’s Young Musician’s Program, were amazing, covering Monk and Ellington in a youthful, yet stylistically grounded way.

Luckily, San Francisco being the musical city that it is screams of Jazz most weekends, even though the performers are often unknown. There is the duo-sometimes-trio-sometimes-quartet that play underneath the bridge across from the Conservatory Of Flowers in Golden Gate Park. They stun passers by with their grooves and solos (the guitarist and saxist are killer)—I need find out their names. The Park also boasts at times a lonely but alive sax player underneath the freeway that connects the Richmond and the Sunset. There is the drum circle on hippie hill that has regularly attracted horn players and other instrumentalists, transforming the pack into an extension of the Sun Ra Arkestra’s alien bliss. And never forget the Church Of John Coltrane in it’s new residence on Fillmore. Come noon on Sundays, it is a treat.

Either change the name of the North Beach Jazz Festival to the North Beach World Music Pillow Fest or start programming the style of music that is supposed to be featured in the first place (which would then allow the showcasing of other styles). It makes sense and, believe it or not, the youthful audience that is so desired will still come and drink in the sun.

***

Meanwhile, Stern Grove was alive with Opera Music this afternoon featuring prize soloists Stephanie Blythe and Lawrence Brownlee. The sun sparkled on the orchestra which sounded absolutely amazing through the still new two year old sound-system. Highlights included a piece from Verdi’s Un Ballo In Maschera and a rarely heard omitted piece from the original Barber Of Seville by Rossini. It has been an amazing season at the grove thus far.

Kings Of The Weirdo Beardos

2006-07-25T23:28:00.000-07:00

There are beards everywhere in San Francisco right now…it is a damn epidemic and not a pretty one during this sweltering summer we are having. Fuck, I am wearing a beard myself, showing off my age with each grey strand shouting out amidst the newly-timid brunette ones. Beards have also mossed all over the music here in town. We have this fuzzy, hairy folk scene that has grown itself into the world consciousness through the Indian-style sittings of Dev endra Banhart.

I think that the latest Devendra release has its problems (c’mon Mark-like Bolan…do your homework for us…20+ songs like these are not an album, they are a sketchbook). But his co-horts in faciality (pronounced face-ee-Al-ih-tee) Vetiver have probably put together one of the year’s best records. TO FIND ME GONE (DiCristina) showcases some amazing pop songs framed by a minimal folk-pop sound that is as refreshing as early morning foggy dew. The opener “Been So Long” (alt version from last year’s Between EP) lulls you into a meditative trance followed nicely by the pulsations of a very JJ Cale/Tony Joe White “You May Find Me Blue”—dig the groovy twang guitar and all that wonderful tattooing chorus. By the time “Idle Ties” comes in clean-up, probably one of the best songs of the year neck and neck with Howlin’ Rain’s “Calling Lightening With A Scythe”—by the time “Idle Ties” come in, it becomes apparent that this truly is a beautiful, classic rock record. Add to that the sudden but fantastic almost Dave Shannon-eque fuzz guitar-bath on jam #9, "Red Lantern Girls," and it seems that there is nothing in rock that Vetiver can't do in the studio.

King Vetiver and SF Richmond resident Andy Cabic, who wrote, played and co-produced the album, is obviously in peak form on all fronts. He may be a weirdo beardo, and his band mates may include poster children weirdo beardos, and he may come from this oh-so hairy San Francisco scene, but this record—this recorded moment in time—is pure classic pop goodness with the most organic arrangements and environments. Genre defining and defying.

She Wolf RIP

2006-07-24T21:36:00.000-07:00

Jessie Mae Hemphill , known in the blues world as the She Wolf, passed away last weekend of complications from a perforated ulcer. She was 78 and had been battling ill health for years. She was the granddaughter of blues legend Sid Hemphill (who was a mentor) and made a name for herself with her Hill Country shakin' blues style which she played in tight leopard skin pants, cowboy hat and high heals. Sexy. Bluesman Richard Johnston introduced me and friends John Blaufarb and Mayor Jane Rule Burdine to Jesse Mae after she had been permanently disabled by a stroke, which froze half of her body and put a dead stop to her career. In our meeting, she was all smiles with her little dog constantly in her arms.

David Evans produced her best work (and married her, for that matter...for a short time anyway). The album She Wolf is the finest moment; it is one of the finest examples of Hill Country Blues...with its joyfully monotonous, trance inducing beat and mosquito slide guitar. Jump baby, jump! And it is hard not to love Jesse Mae's calm but driving vocals.

My favorite story of Jesse Mae cannot be told here...it took place immediately following the double funeral of Otha Turner and his daughter Bernice Pratcher, both whom I loved. That was a heavy and tragic day, and Jesse Mae's actions...right in front of the church...took my frown and turned it upside down. Otha would have smiled, that much is true. Come to the Outer Richmond and buy me a drink if you want to hear the tale.

The Flaming Lips take over The Greek

2006-07-23T23:18:00.001-07:00

Last night I saw one of the most mind-streaking, surreal and epic shows of the year as The Flaming Lips descended into Berkeley. Singer Wayne Coyne actually told the audience to explain to their friends how he had descended from the sky in a giant plastic bubble and surfed the crowd (he did actually crowd surf in his John-Travolta boy-in-the-plastic-bubble imitation). The entire show was an overload of visuals and sounds...from the sexy female aliens on the left side of the stage, to the manly Santa Clauses on the other side, to the road crew dressed as the Superfriends, to all the confetti canons and smoke lasers....it was all there. Musically, they keep getting closer and closer to that organic live sound the Lips were always known for. They did not dig deep into the repetoir, staying close to the last few records. They did "SHE DON'T USE JELLY" from the amazing Transmissions From The Satellite Heart as well as "Spoonful Weighs A Ton" and "Race For The Prize" from the classic Soft Bulletin while Wayne had the crowd singing along to the "YEAH YEAH YEAH" song and Yoshimi. Hats off to Steven Drozd, former live Lips drummer, now playing everything else as well. His guitar riffs during the instrumental songs, as well as some of the more known album tracks, was nothing short of unexpected and awesome. When did he develop into a guitar god?
At War With The Mystics is a great record, and I have to say that live..I might have even liked it better. A cohesive, well thought out, fantasy trip of epic proportions.

They are taping their Hollywood Bowl show for a DVD...maybe this was a warm up to it (and would explain how over-the-top the visuals really were).