Last Night: Look Daggers, LD & Ariano @ The Prospector in Long Beach 5/29

Better Than: Being a San Antonio Spurs fan last night

Nothing caps off a Thursday night like a swirling mix of basketball, break beats and booze. Hell, it’s a good night if you can manage to enjoy even one of those things. And the Look Daggers' show at The Prospector in Long Beach delivered on all three. Sure, the Lakers’ Western Conference clincher over San Antonio was over way before sound check, but plenty of regulars decided to stay, drink hard and party with some live hip hop courtesy of local legends Ikey Owens (The Mars Volta, Free Moral Agents), 2Mex (Visionaries) and a cavalcade of fire breathing emcees.

It happened gradually, but as night spread thicker onto this neighborhood sports bar, the laid back, local atmosphere shifted. Soon it gave way to a flood of crooked lid hip hop heads, a dash of fine females, clamoring conversations and warm bodies. Not to mention fewer places to stand in the cramped walk ways. Rattling ice cubes and clanging glass meshed a little non-stop bar symphony on underneath thumping house speakers while LD & Ariano, the opening duo, set up their gear.

Before Ariano even let out his first few bars, the crowd was already pushed up to the very front of the stage. Fans of the group hooted and hollered as LD and Ariano carved out a sound that balanced innovative beats and thunder quake rhyme delivery. Don’t be fooled if you ever see them live, they may look harmless, but their skills proved otherwise last night, despite a few technical difficulties with the sound system.

To add some wow factor to the show, LD showed off his DJ skills with crazy cutting sessions and solos spliced in between songs. On Ariano’s cue, LD’s hands would flick and crawl like spiders over the cross fade. Shouts of appreciation from the crowd echoed back with every trick he tested. By the time they were finished, this had converted a new stable of fans, had a few drinks and caused a fair share of damage on stage.

But the true wreckage would come once the cast of Look Daggers took the stage and filled every square inch of the venue with their special blend driving beats slathered with free jazz gusto and enough pop to keep everything from falling apart. Though he arrived a tad late, local hero 2Mex made his grand entrance to a bar full of grateful, half drunk fans. Ikey Owens, along with Mendee Ichikawa (Free Moral Agents), Chris Clawson, Travis Laws and Jesse Wilder provided the backdrop for 2Mex to spit his rhymes about everything from fucked up relationships to…fucked up relationships.

If there’s one thing about this band that is worth noting, it’s that they know how to jam out, no matter how cramped the stage. The somber oohhs, ahhs and shrieks of Ichikawa leveled a ghostly cloud over the majority of the band's infectious grooves. Between Owens’ soulful sputtering keyboard lines and the thick rhythms of Laws, Clawson and Wilder, these guys found a way to bring the energy of a six member band to stage that probably shouldn’t try to fit more than three. Hmm, maybe that’s why the new album’s called Suffer in Style. As an added surprise, LD was also joined on stage by several guest emcees including Existereo (of the Shape Shifters), Mestizo, Lord Zen, and Coachella veteran, Bus Driver.

Norwegian electro-rock duo Datarock will show OC what they got on the decks Fri. May 30. We know they can rock rad ski goggles and red track suits with panache and create whip(it)smart Devo/Talking Heads simulations in the studio and onstage. Should be interesting to see if they can move a crowd/hold our attention with their music collection.

With Chris White at Detroit Bar.

Revered soul-jazz Hammond B-3 keyboardist Jimmy McGriff passed away May 24 due to complications from multiple sclerosis, age 72. Ben Ratliff of the NY Times has written a solid summary of McGriff's accomplishments and renowned producer Dante Ross chips in with a heartfelt tribute here. I will only add that the man's songs have been sampled plenty by hip-hop artists and his playing possesses a soulful girth and funky dexterity that will never sound exhausted. Every discerning record collector should possess at least a few of his albums.

Here are videos for “The Worm” and "Spear for Moondog, Pt. 1":

"The Worm"

"Spear for Moondog, Pt. 1"

By Ryan Ritchie

The last time Billie Joe Armstrong, Mike Dirnt and Tre Cool hit Long Beach, they called themselves Green Day and played at the Arena to thousands of pre-pubescent fans and those fans’ moms. Last night was a bit different.

Using the moniker Foxboro Hot Tubs, the Berkeley trio played Alex’s Bar to a crowd divided into two types: Alex’s regulars and Green Day diehards who more than likely had never stepped foot in the bar. No, this wasn’t the most sudden fall from grace in the history of recorded music. They actually wanted it that way.

With the help of Pinhead Gunpowder guitarist Jason White, multi-instrumentalist Jason Freese and guitarist Kevin Preston (all of whom are reportedly members of Green Day’s live backing band) the Foxboro Hot Tubs concluded their 10-day tour with an hour-long set comprised mostly of songs of their debut record “Stop Drop and Roll!!!” With only one album to their credit, it came as no surprise that the band played nearly every track from “Stop,” along with what Armstrong said was a cover from a band called the Network. To those who have absolutely nothing better to do than follow Green Day’s every move, the Network was (is?) another Green-Day-in-disguise band that released an album titled “Money Money 2020” in 2003. The only actual Green Day song in the set was “Blood, Sex and Booze” off 2000’s “Warning.”

Now for the most obvious thing I’ve ever written: The biggest difference between the Green Day show at the Long Beach Arena and the Foxboro Hot Tubs at Alex’s was the production value. The “American Idiot” tour incorporated a flashing “Green Day” banner behind the stage, more pyrotechnics than a Nevada backyard party and a cover of “Shout.” That’s when my girlfriend and I bailed on the show. And we like Green Day.

Wednesday night’s show was less about arena rock distractions and more about a straight-forward approach to rock ‘n’ roll. The evening began with Armstrong riding a surfboard carried by Alex’s security from the back of the bar to the stage. Many songs were extended to give the Foxboro Hot Tubs the opportunity to drink tallboys of Pabst Blue Ribbon and/or crowd surf, both of which were highly entertaining. Although it was never officially mentioned, there must have been a rule that mandated everyone in the audience had to jump on stage every fourth or fifth song because that’s exactly what happened. One minute there were six musicians up there and the next they disappeared into a sea of people.

But my friend Ron, a punk rocker since before most of the audience was going to shows, summarized the evening perfectly when told me his favorite part of the show was when one of the bouncers stage dived. Minutes earlier the guy got on the mic and told the crowd he’d put a foot in everyone’s ass if they didn’t take a step back. Then he jumped. Go figure.

Sure, the people on stage were household names with bank accounts full of zeros, but all the shit that bummed me out about the over-produced “American Idiot” tour vanished. In its place was a typical bar show complete with a band that sounded like the pros that they were, sky-high temperatures, beer a-flyin’ and lots of sweaty dudes bumping into non-sweaty dudes, making the non-sweaty dudes a tad bit uncomfortable. Maybe I was born too late to have witnessed it the first go-round, but last night’s show proved a tiny venue with nothing to offer but an eager crowd and stiff drinks is how Green Day/Foxboro Hot Tubs/the Network should be seen. All it took was a name change for me to appreciate Green Day again.

DJ Frane: very decks-toe-rous.

I thought I might've been pouring it on too thick with this Heard Mentality post, but it turns out I wasn't effusive enough. Last night at the Continental Room's Behind the Red Curtain event, DJ Frane put on a master class of funk and turntablism (a panoply of scratches that was tight and acrobatic, including the soleful toescratch) that had jaws tattooing the dance floor as often as feet.

Frane's selections combined the obscure (uh, I'm having trouble identifying them—that's how obscure they were) with the well-known (Funkadelic, James Brown, Rick James, the Time), with the quality level uniformly high no matter where in the crates he dug. Toward the end, Frane pulled out some sweet-ass reggae/dub tracks (Dawn Penn, Sister Nancy, Musical Youth), but the night's highlight came when Frane started scratching Prince's “Head” with his mouth. [See photo from this blog post.] Talk about being thematically correct and amazingly dexterous...

This was Frane's first Orange County DJ performance and it's doubtful the OC's seen anything like it. You can catch him next at the Mountain Bar in LA Thursday night.

Canadian hip-hop duo The Chuds created this tribute to 2'9" martial artist Weng-Weng, and paired it with some video clips from the small actor's many films. The ladies can't seem to help themselves in his presence. . .

Can you blame them?

Lately I've been thinking about definitive summer songs for a feature that will appear in the Weekly's forthcoming Summer Guide. One of the stranger specimens I'm leaning toward is Ween's fluke 1992 hit “Push th' Little Daisies” off the sporadically brilliant Pure Guava album. (It reached #18 in Australia's pop charts and aired on Beavis & Butthead—that counts as a hit, right?)

For some reason, I associate (some) archetypal summer songs with a sol-drunk wooziness that verges on stoned immaculateness and/or lysergic bliss. Because summer's supposed to be about a respite from responsibility and reality, yeah? At least temporarily, at least in theory... even for workaholics who sunburn easily.

Ween's odd ditty fits the above description well. The flanged guitar and slightly swaying rhythm obliquely suggest “tropical,” while the Cartman-esque vocals nudge the track into helium-inhalation absurdity. I dunno about you, but if I hear a song about pushing little daisies done in such a goofy manner, I am overcome with a desire to meander leisurely in nature while tripping on funny fungus. Now that's some wholesome school's-out activity right there...

Don't try this at home: DJ Frane's infamous "lightning lip scratch" trick.

Recent Sprawl of Sound star DJ Frane will be spinning at Continental Room's event in Fullerton tonight; he also plans to play some records. And oh what records he'll play. Anyone who's heard his bongadelic hip-hop instrumentals (composed of hundreds of samples from Frane's deep, deep stash of excellent funk, psych-rock, prog-rock and spoken-word wax) will attest to the Santa Monica producer's impeccable taste. The man rarely plays in OC, so don't sleep on this.

With Bobby Soul and Billy Goods at Continental Room, 115 W. Santa Fe Ave., Fullerton, (714) 526-4529; 9 p.m., free.

Better Than: Watching the Lakers lose to the Spurs.

Download: "Illuminated" from The Cult's website

The combination of roaring guitars, pummeling drums, driving bass and distinctive vocals is winning formula that has made The Cult successful for nearly thirty years. Ian Astbury (vocals) has one of the most characteristic voices in the rock world and still sounds as good as ever. Making it was no surprise that the Grove was packed last night.

Year Long Disaster sufficiently warmed up the crowd with a dash of Wolfmother like fuzz and early Queens of the Stone Age bass lines for a crowd pleasing opening set. Daniel Davies (vocals/guitars) was born to rock as he happens to be the son of Dave Davies of The Kinks. Daniel was all over the stage thrashing and slamming on his shiny gold top Les Paul.
I saw many beers hoisted in the air at the end of their set as the crowd thoroughly approved.

The Cult's two remaining members, Ian Astbury and Billy Duffy (guitars), were backed by some well seasoned players as they played to the packed house. The two tore through a mixture of songs from the past as well as some numbers from their latest release "Born Into This."

John Tempesta (drums) was the engine that propelled the driving new tune "I Assassin" sounding very much like classic Cult material. Astbury belted out "Edie (Ciao Baby)" while maintining his classic sound. Billy Duffy was in top form as well. He would frequently engage his wah pedal for a ear ripping solo. "Illuminated" was another new song that fit well into their catalog as Chris Wyse (bass) triggered some seismic notes.

Astbury displayed his proficiency with the tambourine throughout the night and threw a few into the crowd to give some lucky fans an extra special souvenir. The Cult didn't neglect classic songs such as "Love Removal Machine" and the former radio staple "Fire Woman" as they put on a textbook rock show.

Critic's Notebook:

Personal Bias:I used to practice playing guitar to The Cult album "Electric."

Random Detail:I ran into Page Hamilton of Helmet who happens to be one of my guitar heroes.

By The Way:Page was at the show to support his friend John Tempesta who used to drum for Helmet.

Click here to view photos from the concert.

Better late than never? Sure!
Weekly cover boys Phil Nisco, Chris Alfaro and Mark Yamaoka turned a weekend long extravaganza into The Crosby’s Official Grand Opening Party. So what if they opened two months ago? According to Nisco, the lineup of events this weekend just seemed like the perfect opportunity to finally put the “official” in somewhere.

Friday night dangled the promise of Obey’s mastermind Shepard Fairey taking to the turntables under the name DJ Diabetic. Not only spinning, but also showcasing art and a limited edition Obey/Crosby t-shirt. Naturally, every hipster within a ten-mile radius went into a complete frenzy. Unable to make it out that night, Music Editor Dave Segal assured me it was complete chaos.

Unwilling to be absent from another mixer of beat braking and libations, I was sure to be at the Crosby Saturday night for the Stussy and Turntablelab Beats LP Release party. Last night featured live sets by Nosuj Thing along with Nisco and Alfaro’s groundbreaking musical outfit Free The Robots.

The space, located on Broadway in the mushrooming Artist Village in Downtown Santa Ana, has an easy ability to get packed packed packed. A decent sized floor space is no match for the throngs of music lovers looking to get their drank and dance on when clearly no other event in the area could even hold a candle to The Crosby (sorry, Proof, but Fridays are more your night).

Free the Robots took to the tables just after midnight, when apparently people had finally found their dancing shoes. Or perhaps it was Le Receptionist making a rare social appearance and showing off those crazy moves that brought out everyone’s inner rug cutter.

Shining as brightly as ever, Free The Robots fluidly melted one song into the next, delighting with unexpected twists on favorites like "Dear Diary", "The Bearded Lady" and "Jazzhole".

Side note: The Crosby— serving only beer and wine until they can obtain that elusive liquor license— makes lethally delicious sangria.

View photos of the event here.