Anya Marina, PB Block Party and Slipknot

The past few weeks were a blur. April turned out to be a slow month for me freelance-wise, but in May things are definitely picking up. Also started a part-time job at REI selling bikes, kayaks and canoes, so I'm learning about all the gear too.

I had two stories in this week's Night&Day (which is the Union-Tribune's entertainment section), and I have two more coming out next week (including a huge piece on an exhibit on art from the Vatican stopping in San Diego). But first this week:

The Pacific Beach Block Part is a free, annual festival in party central: P.B. Here's the Night&Day cover story I wrote last week. The cover art is great (see above). I actually hung out for the photo shoot. Ernie Grafton from the Union-Tribune shot photos of Anya under the Crystal Pier in P.B. during a sunny afternoon. Good stuff:

Good Day Sunshiny!

Anya Marina multitasks her way to the Pacific Beach Block Party

By Chris Nixon
May 6, 2004

Anya Marina's sweet sunshiny songs and breathy vocals reflect her sweet sunshiny personality. But by a simple twist of fate, the local singer-songwriter and radio DJ almost didn't get to sing her sunshiny songs in sunny San Diego.

"I moved down to San Diego and two months later I'm out of a job with a studio apartment I have to pay rent on in P.B," said Marina over a coffee at the Starbucks on Mission Boulevard in Pacific Beach. "I started playing gigs in my unemployment, doing open mikes at Java Joe's.

"I was able to get a little foothold in the great nurturing San Diego music scene. Everybody was so helpful. Mike Halloran has pretty much kept me employed over the years at different radio stations: 92.1 FM, Y107 in L.A. and now FM 94.9."

Marina's patience with San Diego paid off. Balancing her full-time radio gig at FM 94.9, her acting career and her life as musician, the slight singer carves a creative existence out of the local music scene. She DJs Monday through Friday from 6-10 p.m. at the local station, while also holding down the San Diego music show the Local 94/9 on Sundays from 8-10 p.m.

Among the radio gigs, Marina's songwriting career seems about to take flight.

Her debut EP, "Exercises in Racketeering" – recorded with help from Unwritten Law's Scott Russo – won her great local press. CityBeat named Marina as one of the "Best Unsigned" acts in San Diego. She looks to release her follow-up full-length album "Miss Halfway" this summer.

But she's still looking for a label to release the disc. What do you have to do to get music critics and label pundits to help a sister out?

In the meantime, Marina prepares for her first gig at the Pacific Beach Block Party: "I just went to Kono's for the first time, because I'm trying to immerse myself in P.B. culture," said Marina. "I lived in P.B. when I first moved to San Diego. Kono's has an amazing view and pretty greasy, awesome food."

She'll perform on the Local 94/9 Stage at Gresham Street and Garnet Avenue from 11 to 11:45 a.m.

Chris Nixon is a San Diego writer.

Anya Marina's 10 favorite albums:
1. Beatles' "The White Album"
2. Elliot Smith's "XO"
3. Sinead O'Connor's "The Lion and the Cobra"
4. Nirvana's "Nevermind"
5. The Pixies' "Doolittle"
6. Liz Phair's "Exile In Guyville"
7. Stephen Malkmus' "Stephen Malkmus"
8. G. Love and Special Sauce's "G. Love & Special Sauce"
9. Rugburns' "Taking the World by Donkey"
10. Sheryl Crow's "The Globe Sessions"

– CHRIS NIXON

And here's the Slipknot story:

Slipknot promises to 'offer a dose of reality'

By Chris Nixon
May 6, 2004

Gut-splitting. Severe. Massive. Fearsome. These words articulate the crux of Slipknot, an irate metal collective from Iowa set to detonate on an unsuspecting mainstream America.

Full of rolling farmland and desolate plains, the unlikely breeding ground of Iowa spawned one of modern music's most fierce combos. From their hometown of Des Moines, Slipknot rose out of the Midwest prairie in 1996 like a nine-man revolution against insular God-fearing, family friendly life.

When you think about it, a band like Slipknot – with its vitriolic metal railing against ignorance and conformity – could only come from a bastion of family values. Despite developing a hardcore grassroots following affectionately referred to as "maggots," Slipknot remains outside the musical mainstream of America. And that's just fine with lead singer Corey Taylor and his tribe.

"I think a lot of the popular music that's out there today is very slick, very packaged and very plastic," said Taylor via his cell phone during the band's current tour. "We offer a dose of reality in a world that lives in illusion. We pull back the rug and show what's going on underneath. As long as we're on that level, I don't think we'll be on the level where we're playing the Super Bowl or anything. But you know what? We can live without that."

Like a Halloween party gone awry, this collective dons menacing masks and matching red jumpsuits. Band members – simply using monikers numbered from zero to eight – burst out of the late-'90s rap-metal explosion.

Rougher than Limp Bizkit and more musically deft than Korn, Slipknot rose above the metal glut with haunting turntable samples, dense percussion, hard guitars and Taylor's angst-ridden lyrics. The band's music struck a chord with America's disaffected youth, but the brutal nature also pushed away certain demographic groups.

"Not everybody is going to like this music," said Taylor, who also goes simply by the numeral "#8." "As much as I would love to be embraced by everybody, it's just not going to happen. It makes you appreciate the people who are really into your music even more. It's a really good feeling, to know that we started in a basement in Des Moines, Iowa, and basically worked our way to (playing) pretty much all over the world. How many people can say that?"

With a mind-shattering live show and two bombastic studio releases ("Iowa" in 2001 and 1999's self-titled debut), Slipknot exudes a frenetic energy. The band's high-profile slots on Ozzfest (1999, 2001 and 2004) have afforded Slipknot a taste of notoriety.

After building up metal cred for the past five years, Slipknot might be poised for surprising success. Reason No. 1: Legendary knob-twister Rick Rubin (Beastie Boys, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Johnny Cash) produced the band's upcoming release, "Vol. 3 (The Subliminal Verses)" due May 25. Rubin delved into the band's psyche by adding more atmospherics and more contemplative passages.

"(Rubin) basically told us, 'Look, you're really good at what you do, but now it's time to expand on that. Now, it's time to break out of the box and show people there are so many sides to you guys,' " said Taylor. "And that's basically what we did. I think this is our best album yet."

With Rubin's help, the new album will certainly open up new avenues and audiences for Slipknot. But the band hasn't forgotten it core constituency: kids dealing with the frustrations of growing up, looking for any release from the pressures of modern life.

"We're saying what every kid wants to say, but maybe they haven't found their voice yet," said Taylor, who takes the SOMA stage Sunday with the rest of his band. "We're saying it to the individual, but we're saying it to the world as well: There is a way to get through it and go on with your lives.

"Being a teenager these days is even worse then when I was a kid. It's brutal and it has scarred a lot of people. (Our music) lets you know you're not alone. You're not going through this alone."

Chris Nixon is a San Diego writer.

Cracked rearview mirror

I wrote my first show review for the Union-Tribune this week. The Von Bondies played the Casbah Sunday night. The concert finished up at 1 a.m. and the story was due at 9 a.m., so it was a challenge to write this one. Hopefully it makes sense. Here's the result:

POP MUSIC REVIEW
Von Bondies' bluesy rock a blast

Heartaches, Dance Disaster Movement rev up revelry at Casbah

By Chris Nixon
March 30, 2004

'Not since the Strokes have I seen a show like this, man," said a tattooed music fan with a shaved head, shaking his head in disbelief after the Von Bondies won the hearts of the Casbah crowd Sunday night. "Not since the Strokes."

While the Motor City seems brimming with bands loaded with hype and lacking in substance, the Von Bondies proved themselves worthy of praise and proselytizing during their Sunday performance. Led by guitarist/singer Jason Stollsteimer (who cites Screamin' Jay Hawkins as one of his influences), the Detroit-based quartet put a spell on the sold-out Kettner Boulevard venue with its loud brand of bluesy, garage rock 'n' roll.

The evening's three-band lineup brought three hours of loud, brash performances, each adding its own voltage to the night.

With twangy guitars revving to full growl and a lanky lead singer spurring the crowd on, the Heartaches opened the show with Ramones-style rock: short, quick three-minute blasts of unbridled intensity. The San Diego-based five piece didn't "warm up" the show as much as tenderize the onlookers, yielding the stage after a 30-minute set to the enigmatic duo known as the Dance Disaster Movement.

Garbed in white T-shirts, white jeans and white Converse high-top sneakers, Kevin Disco and Matt Howze took the stage after 10 minutes of wrestling with the complicated circuitry of Disco's synthesizer and guitar setup. DDM proved to be worth the wait.

Once under way, the Long Beach-based two piece launched into a 35-minute collage of spastic synth funk. Keyboardist, guitar player and vocalist Disco recorded each instrument for a few seconds, looping the instrumentation. The slight Disco would then grab a microphone and sing with abandon, dancing wildly like some body-rockin' robot engaged in an erratic herky-jerky break dance.

The Heartaches brought the tenderizer and DDM infused the audience with twitchy energy, setting the stage for the headliners.

Touring in support of its recently released "Pawn Shoppe Heart," the Von Bondies tore down the house with its 45-minute set and 10-minute, two-song encore.

Kicking of its show with "Hello San Diego, we are the Von Bondies," Stollsteimer led his three band mates through 17 thundering rock songs. Whether crooning or bolting around the stage during a guitar solo, the 25-year-old singer-songwriter radiated charisma and a deep devotion to the music.

But the Von Bondies aren't a one-man show. The quartet felt like a coherent whole: All band members shared vocal duties and pushed the music forward with their instruments. Churning out favorites like "C'mon C'mon," "The Fever" and "Cryin'," the band's cohesiveness resulted in tight, explosive rock tunes; the show held no trace of clichéd, drawn-out endings.

During the encore, the Von Bondies urged the Casbah crowd to clap along, and San Diego's hipsters complied. For a brief three-hours, the 175 attendees reveled in total abandon, heading home with ears ringing, heads buzzing and not a thought to Monday morning.

Chris Nixon is a San Diego writer.

Flogging a sleepy Nixon

Last week was a bit of a whirlwind: four pieces in the U-T, nine band profiles for SignOn and a Padres spring training
feature for the Web site as well.

Here's a link to the Padres feature

Sleepy Jackson, Union-Tribune (3/11/04):

POP MUSIC
Wake-Up Call

The Sleepy Jackson mines country, rock and ballads for 'Lovers' everywhere

By Chris Nixon
March 11, 2004


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The Sleepy Jackson, with Earlimart, On the Speakers
8:30 p.m., Saturday; The Casbah, 2501 Kettner Blvd., Middletown; $10; (619) 226-7662

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The Australian quartet the Sleepy Jackson unleashed the consummate melancholic pop album from last year, "Lovers." There are always stories that define an album's direction and the tone of the songs included, so how did a relatively unknown band on the international scene create an instant classic?

One of the clues to deciphering the story of "Lovers" reveals itself in the cryptic liner notes. The notes of the Sleepy Jackson's first full-length album contain all the necessary components: lyrics, credits, "shout outs."

One graphic element sticks out, just a blank business card with the name "Michael" and the digits "0418869998" jotted on it. In sloppy (yet different) handwriting, the card also reads "R.I.P., XO, Luke."

"Michael" is Michael Lock, a journalist-writer friend of the Sleepy Jackson's. The number refers to Lock's phone number, which, during the recording of "Lovers," singer-songwriter Luke Steele was going to call after he made a quick trip to Europe.

"I only knew him for two years before he died," said Steele from his hometown of Perth, Western Australia. "We became really good mates. He was one of those friends who challenges you every second you are speaking with him.

"You could never let a comment slide with him. He's probably the most intelligent guy I ever met. We were just finishing up the album, and the band went to Europe. While we were gone, he died. He overdosed on pills. You can still hear his voice on the answering machine."

The Aussie singer said Lock had a major influence on the lyrics of "Lover," a sweeping panorama of sad country tunes and breathy sing-along choruses. The album is dedicated to him.

After reading the lyrics to "Lovers," Steele sounds more like a blues songwriter rather than a writer of dreamy pop, and he comes by the blues honestly.

Steele grew up in a musical family. His dad, a respected blues player Down Under, held weekly jam sessions that featured musicians such as the internationally known harp player Charlie Musselwhite. With the lessons of his father fresh in his mind, the young Steele set out to conquer the music world in his own fashion.

"Growing up as the son of my dad – who was the president of a blues club – I would hang out there every Tuesday for like 10 years," said Steele. "I kind of got turned off blues, like the 12-bar blues. And I've kind of tried to make a distinct change through writing complete pop tunes. I think I was at a point then when I distinguished between styles a bit more. And now I'm coming back to (the blues)."

Named for a narcoleptic drummer in Steele's former jug band, the Sleepy Jackson combines country music, indie rock and acoustic balladry. After serving time in rock groups and jug bands, Steele fostered his own songwriting style: equal parts psychedelic pop and country twang with a touch of acoustic balladry.

Since releasing several EPs in Australia, the Sleepy Jackson released "Lovers" last year to critical acclaim. The disc reflects the geography it grew out of: It's a quiet pop album from the sleepy town of Perth on Australia's western coast.

Despite Steele's central role as main songwriter, the Sleepy Jackson becomes more like a band as time progresses.

"The drummer, Malcolm Clark, has been in the band for three years, so he's just as much a member of the band as I am," said Steele, who will perform at the Casbah Saturday. "I guess I'll always be kind of the captain, 'cause I know what the songs need to have.

"So, in a way, I guess I had to do it my way. Now we have two brothers playing bass and guitar, and Malcolm like a brother as well. It's more of a band than it's ever been."

Chris Nixon is a San Diego writer.

Flogging Molly/St. Patrick's Day in the U-T (3/11/04):

POP MUSIC
'You Can't Go Wrong with Family, Music and Sing-alongs' . . .

. . . as long as, like Flogging Molly, you've got the right mix of 'weird people' in the band

By Chris Nixon
March 11, 2004


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Flogging Molly

7:30 p.m. Saturday; SOMA, 3350 Sports Arena Blvd. Suite I, Midway area; $20; (619) 226-7662


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Accordion player Matt Hensley has reason to pour his road rage into his music: He's currently commuting almost daily from Carlsbad to Los Angeles and back.

The San Diego native finds appropriate therapy in the City of Angels, where his band, Flogging Molly, is currently recording a new album. And his rage finds a good home in the band's music, a potent brew uniting Irish balladry and punk rock aggression.

"At the end of the day when I'm driving home, it feels like we're doing something special," says Hensley from his cell phone during one of his commutes back from Los Angeles, the hum of his speeding vehicle providing background noise. "Right now, it's Tuesday through Friday: I drive about four-and-a-half hours a day and practice five or six hours a day. So I'm basically a truck driver who plays accordion."

A truck-driving accordion player fits in with Flogging Molly, a band melding sweet acoustic sentimentality with sweaty, blue-collar brawn. The band's story begins appropriately at a pub, Molly Malone's on Fairfax Boulevard in Los Angeles.

After a few pints of Guinness, impromptu jam sessions would break out and often a rambunctious Dubliner named Dave King would initiate the festivities. Born out of merry sing-alongs and Harps-soaked lullabies, King and the Flogging Molly crew have exuded the same exuberance in their many shows since.

"If you pay attention to the music, it's very fast groovin' music," says Hensley, who doesn't try and hide his love for traditional acoustic music despite being raised on Southern California punk. "In every culture, people sit around and play music. But it seems specific to a couple of cultures: people get together, bring their kids and sing and play music together. You can't go wrong with family, music and sing-alongs."

In the past four years, Flogging Molly has progressed a long way from Molly Malone's, releasing two critically acclaimed albums: "Swagger" (2000) and "Drunken Lullabies" (2002).

While Flogging Molly came from traditional Irish music jam sessions, the band contains enough punk rockers to give it an edge.

"We're not a band full of Irish people," says Hensley, a former professional skater who started playing accordion at age 24. "I'm an American and I've lived in Southern California almost all my life. I've always surfed and skateboarded.

"The songs we're singing, all the lyrics are completely done by Dave (King), who is from Dublin, Ireland. He's singing about the harshness and the beauties of living in that country while he was growing up.

"Half our band is old punkers and skaters from different parts of California. So you just put all these weird people together: half the band are punks and the other are playing traditional instruments. And it's like, 'Let's do it, man.' "

St. Patrick's Day brings bread-and-butter gigs for Irish bands, so Flogging Molly will be taking a break from recording to play a series of shows. This Saturday, Hensley will be driving south instead of north, heading to a Flogging Molly show at SOMA to help San Diego celebrate.

But after the dates are done, it'll be time for the accordion-playing truck driver to hit the road once again until the album is finished. We'll have to wait to hear the album, but you can bet it'll be full-on Flogging Molly.

"We're always trying to ... make better music and make people smile more. That's what this is about," says Hensely. "We're trying to experiment with new things, but it will always be Flogging Molly."

Chris Nixon is a San Diego writer.

The monthly Localese column for the Union-Tribune (3/11/04):

ALBUM REVIEWS
Localese

March 11, 2004

This month's column focuses on three drastically different discs, giving credence to the growing diversity in San Diego's music scene.

Sunny afternoon at PB: Originally from Hawaii, now hanging in San Diego, ska-punk trio Pepper unleashes its third album on Volcom Entertainment, "In With the Old" (two and a 1/2), on March 30. Beginning with a rock vibe before easing into a few mellow ska/dancehall tunes, the varied album evokes a pleasing blend of ska, punk, country-tinged ballads and melodic rock. Recorded at 311's studio in Burbank, Pepper connects with its ska offerings, but comes off a bit weak on the "harder" tunes ("Keep Your Head Bangin' "). The acoustic "Your 45" showcases the band's ability to switch gears.

High speed through the desert on I-8: Hyperbole aside, John Reis is a high-quality San Diego musician putting out high-quality music: Rocket From the Crypt, Hot Snakes, Swami Records and the Sultans. Going under the nom de guitar Slasher, Reis joins forces with his brother Dean (aka Black Velvet) and RFTC drummer Tony DiPrima for a straight-ahead rock trio setup in the Sultans. The band's second release, "Shipwrecked" (four stars), finds the Reis brothers and DiPrima firing on all cylinders with 14 stripped-down, two-minute rock tunes. Simply put, "Shipwrecked" is one of San Diego's best '04 moments captured on tape.

Dark Gaslamp lounge: Equal parts downtempo, jazz chanteuse and neo-soul, San Diego vocalist Minga oozes sensual R&B on her debut EP, "Flipside" (three and 1/2 stars). When jazz and electronica are mixed, it's easy to slip into ill-guided smooth-jazz territory. Under the excellent guidance of producer Danny de la Isla, the five-song disc comes off sounding more like Everything But the Girl's electronica explorations than any cheesy elevator fodder. It's available to everyone online at Amazon.com and in local record shops. For fans of loungy downtempo, file "Flipside" under "must have."

Chris Nixon is a San Diego writer.

A CD review for the Union-Tribune (3/11/04):

ROCK
The Push Stars

"Paint the Town"

33rd Street

Two and a half stars

This Boston-based trio follows in the footsteps of matchbox twenty and Train, producing pleasing pop harmonies and easily digested songs. Singer-songwriter Chris Trapper, backed by bassist Dan McLoughlin and drummer Ryan MacMillan, plays it safe on the Push Stars' fourth full-length album.

From the orchestral overtones of the opening track, "Claire," to the jangly guitars of the album's first single, "Outside of a Dream," the Push Stars nail the pop-rock formula but fail to take lyrical and musical chances. The remainder of "Paint the Town" floats by almost without notice.

Method to the madness

From a crackling intercontinental phone stretch from my couch in San Diego to Scott Kirkland's Berlin hotel room, I spoke with the half of the Crystal Method recently. Apparently, my voice kept cutting out, but I could hear everything he said fine. It really makes normal conversation impossible when you are forced to repeat yourself two or three times. He was a nice fellow and we made it through the interview, albeit with more stops and starts than 1-5 northbound traffic on a Friday afternoon. Here's the result:

POP MUSIC
'Boom' Years

The Crystal Method hit its stride following a simple credo: 'We basically make music we like'

By Chris Nixon
March 4, 2004


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The Crystal Method, with DJ Hyper

9 p.m. Saturday; 4th & B, 345 B St., downtown; $20; (619) 231-4343


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With the addition of 2003's "Legion of Boom," the Crystal Method epitomizes the best of American techno, giving us a future beyond simply repetitive dance music.

This Las Vegas-bred, Los Angeles-based duo blends raucous block-rockin' beats with its brand of metallic, gritty guitar work and hip-hop swagger. From their early Vegas days formulating a pan-dance-floor sound, the Crystal Method's Ken Jordan and Scott Kirkland have always maintained a keen sense of balance between rock, metal, hip-hop, down-tempo and mainstream electronica.

For Kirkland, the unique balance of genres results from the bevy of influences he experienced as a teen.

"Growing up in the '80s, the edgiest music was heavy metal and rock, so I listened to Judas Priest, AC/DC and Metallica," said Kirkland, speaking from a hotel room on a tour stop in Berlin, Germany. "Then, I discovered New Order and Depeche Mode.

"Later, I listened to Public Enemy and EPMD. The L.A. rave scene in the late-'80s and '90s also played a part. All of those influences drive what we do in the studio and contribute to what we like to hear in the studio. As simple as it sounds, we basically make music we like."

After a move to the City of Angels in the mid-'90s, the duo burst onto the national scene with 1997's "Vegas." The thundering beats and infectious rock guitar riffs of that debut gave the Crystal Method well-deserved recognition in pop and electronica. The Crystal Method followed in 2001 with "Tweekend," with a complex jungle of vocals by Scott Weiland (Stone Temple Pilots) and guitar wizardry by Tom Morello (Rage Against the Machine). The next year found Jordan and Kirkland doing "Community Service," an excellent DJ remix disc with tracks from Rage Against the Machine and Orbital.

But 2004's "Legion of Boom" might be the duo's best release yet. The Crystal Method has refined its careful tightrope act between genres, and the album exudes a consistent party vibe throughout.

"We took about seven or eight months to make this album, so it actually came together a lot quicker than previous albums," said Kirland. "I think we were more conscious of not letting ourselves get carried away, and not spending too much time on a track.

"We took much time tweaking the album on 'Tweekend.' We labored over it too much and it turned out to be a very dense album. For this album, we made a conscious effort to strip things down a bit. We wanted to listen a little bit better, in the sense of knowing when to move on, knowing when something is right and not second-guessing it. I think that helped push us along at a better pace for this album."

The Crystal Method's journey has taken Kirkland and Jordan further than they ever dreamed, and they plan to continue on the journey as long as people will listen.

"As someone who started out almost 10 years ago now, we had no idea that we would have a career in music," said Kirland, who along with Jordan will perform at 4th & B Saturday. "At the time, American electronic music was pretty below the radar as far as attention and record sales.

"We were hoping we would have some success in Europe and the UK, and maybe produce and do remixes. We just kept putting out 12-inch (recordings), which turned into a record deal, which turned into a great opportunity for us in Vegas, which turned into two records and a million and a half record sales.

"Now, we're on our third album. So it's a dream come true to be able to make music for a living and be able to have success doing it. I want to keep doing it as long as people are into it and we have fun doing it."

Chris Nixon is a San Diego writer.

Teaching an old Ratdog new tricks

The truth is out: In the interest of full disclosure, I played in a Grateful Dead cover band in high school. I feel like a weight has been lifted and my soul is liberated from the shackles of skeletons in the closet. This story ran in the Union-Tribune on Thursday, Feb. 26. Check it:


POP MUSIC
Welcome to Bob Weir's world of improv

By Chris Nixon
February 26, 2004


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Bob Weir & Ratdog
9 p.m. tomorrow; 4th & B, 345 B St., downtown; $27 and $30; (619) 231-4343

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Tie-dyes and high-tech. Birkenstocks and binary code. Patchouli and PCs normally live in two separate worlds. But Bob Weir – grandpa of the jam band revolution and Grateful Dead vet – figures on using current technology to record a few studio projects in the place he spends the most time: on the road.

"It's still the notes you play and the notes you don't play," commented Weir during a recent telephone conversation from his Northern Californian home. "All the technology can be confounding at times. It always has been and always will be a double-edged sword. Back when the piano was the latest thing in musical tech, it was a double-edged sword. Franz Liszt, for instance, got hung up on making music that wasn't as lyrical as it could have been, because he was trying to show off the size of his hands and show off that he could do certain things no one else could do. There is always going to be that in music, the new technology not withstanding.

"At the same time, this technology allows us to make a studio album on the road, which is where we are most of the time anyway," said the 56-year-old singer-songwriter. "So there may be more studio albums coming out from the outfits I'm working with."

Weir's currently playing with the Dead (with the surviving members of the Grateful Dead) and his band Ratdog, which will perform tomorrow at 4th & B downtown.

Originally called the Warlocks, the Grateful Dead started playing around San Francisco in 1965. During its 30-year existence, the band revolutionized the music industry by providing an alternative model for success and by adding improvisation to the palette of rock 'n' roll.

By utilizing a grass-roots fan base fueled by constant touring, the Grateful Dead became one of top grossing musical acts of the 1980s and '90s. Since the Dead's groundbreaking formula, bands like Phish, Particle, Widespread Panic, Blues Traveler, Leftover Salmon and the Slip have taken to the road to spread the good word.

During its steady rise to fame, members of the group dabbled in side projects: Jerry Garcia with his bluegrass band Old and in the Way and his collaborations with mandolin player David Grisman, and drummer Mickey Hart with the Diga Rhythm Band and Planet Drum. With his work in Kingfish (beginning in 1974) and Bobby and the Midnites (in 1978), Weir has probably been the Dead's most prolific member.

When the Dead wasn't touring, Weir searched for new collaborations to explore. In the mid-'90s, he found bassist Rob Wasserman and the band Ratdog. Soon after, on Aug. 9, 1995, the 53-year-old Garcia died of a heart attack due to complications from his long battle with drugs.

"(Ratdog) started out as a departure – just a little vacation – from the stuff I was doing with the Dead," said a relaxed Weir, who seems to be at peace with his past. "When Jerry checked out and the band stopped playing, I was already full sail with Ratdog. At the time, I didn't really feel like going back into the Dead repertoire, so I just kept doing what I was doing with Ratdog."

With Garcia's death, the Grateful Dead decided to call it quits and Weir's side project morphed into his main gig. But he took a few valuable lessons with him: "Learning to stay fast on my feet, so to speak. Learning to improvise quickly and freely and learning to recognize a new direction whether that be coming from me or whoever's offering it."

Weir's improvisational view of rock helped develop Ratdog's style. Along with Wasserman, the former Dead singer cultivated his own interaction with Ratdog. Drummer Jay Lane, keyboardist Jeff Chimenti, guitarist Mark Karan and sax player Kenny Brooks joined the musical conversation too. In early 2003, bassist Robin Sylvester added his voice as Wasserman moved on to other projects (he's currently touring with Particle, according to Weir).

Ratdog looks to release another studio album in the near-future, touring in the meantime. Weir will also tour this summer with the surviving members of the Grateful Dead, known simply as the Dead. So the veteran musician still has a lot of songs to write, a lot of technology to discover and many more musical conversations to engage in.

"Practice makes perfect," said Weir. "The more you do it, the better you get. I'm enjoying singing more than I ever have before. I intend to be around for quite a while. I won't say that I'm just getting started, but at the same time I'm nowhere near done."


Chris Nixon is a San Diego writer.

If you wish upon a Starsailor...

James Stelfox had fascinating insights on his hometown of Lancashire, England during a recent phone interview: "It's quite shitty there, really." He had other good things to say too. Here's what I had to say about his band in the San Diego Union-Tribune Thursday, Feb. 12:

SAILING IN THE GENE POOL
Starsailor earns a spot in the Brit-pop family tree, new-generation branch
By Chris Nixon
FOR THE UNION-TRIBUNE
February 12, 2004

Brit-pop's storied history stretches back to rock's beginnings: The Beatles begat the Byrds, who begat the Stone Roses, who begat Oasis, who begat Travis.

From Mersey Beat to modern psychedelic pop, British bands used infectious melodies embedded in the guitar rock context to continually challenge America's musical dominance.

Welcome to the next generation: Starsailor.

Named after a 1970 Tim Buckley album, the British quartet broke out in 2002 with its Capitol Record release "Love Is Here." The album featured the singles "Fever" and "Good Souls," and immediately established 22-year-old singer-songwriter James Walsh as one of rock music's best young talents.

The shift from unknown underdog to heavyweight contender transformed Starsailor, but the band's worldwide success wasn't guaranteed from the start.

"In England, we knew it was going to be successful because the papers were talking about it for quite a few months before the album came out," said Starsailor bassist James Stelfox, who along with Walsh, drummer Ben Byrne and keyboard player Barry Westhead will play the Epicentre in Mira Mesa tonight.

"But we didn't think we'd sell any records in Europe, Japan or America even. It was amazing for us, to be honest. It blew us away. We can actually sell albums in America. That's like a kid's dream growing up when you're in a band. "I don't know why America has such power for the British bands, but that's just the way it is."

Starsailor's prosperity centered around the single "Good Souls," which reached the charts at No. 12 on the UK singles chart and gave Starsailor a foothold in the U.S. market. "Love Is Here" eclipsed that at No. 2 on the UK album charts. Both the album and the single gathered a devote following in the States.

"I don't think we're ever going to get great success in America," said Stelfox in his thick British accent. "I don't think we'll have the success of Coldplay, for example.

"That's good for us, really. We can come over and play for 1,000 people or 500 people. That's still a great achievement for us, even if we're not playing Madison Square Garden. We're just happy to come across the pond and play."

The band's much-anticipated follow-up, "Silence Is Easy," released stateside last month, found the band working with and firing a legendary producer.

While in support of "Love Is Here," the band made a stop in Los Angeles. In a chance meeting with Phil Spector's 21-year-old daughter, Nicole, the band discovered the producer wanted to work on the subsequent album.

"It was great working with Phil, I've got to say that," said Stelfox. "He's not worked with a band for 20 years or so. For him to come out of his retirement and say he wants to produce our record, we were just mesmerized."

The last time Spector had turned the knobs in the studio, the band he was producing left fearing for their lives. And this wasn't just any flimsy pop band: This was the Ramones.

Spector's love for guns spooked the leather-clad punk quartet during the recording of the 1980 release "End of the Century." After the Ramones album, Spector quit the business and lived in seclusion for the past 22 years.

Sparked by the newest generation of rock bands, Spector expressed interest in Starsailor after hearing "Love Is Here." The legendary producer helped out on two tracks from the new album ("Silence Is Easy" and "White Dove"), adding his trademark strings and orchestral flourishes.

Spector expected to produce the whole album, but Starsailor wanted to invoke their own sound for the remainder of "Silence Is Easy." They fired Spector. A few months later, the 62-year-old producer was arrested and charged in the shooting death of actress Lana Clarkson (Spector is free on bail).

"We knew how we wanted the songs to sound, and they were going in a different direction with Phil," said Stelfox. "He's got his own sound, doesn't he? Which is cool, a good producer needs to have his own particular sound.

"He's known and respected by the sound that he gets. It's just on the rest of the tracks, it wasn't the sound we wanted. So we had to be brave and we had to say it wasn't working and we carried on. We're happy we moved on. I think it's a great sounding record now.

"We knew what we were doing in the studio," continued Stelfox. "Not to sound arrogant, but we knew what we were making was a good piece of art."

Despite the Spector controversy, Starsailor continues to pick up high-profile fans, including R.E.M.'s Michael Stipe and Beach Boy Brian Wilson.

The quartet continues to combine the best British sounds of previous generations and an unrestricted sense of shucking cookie-cutter songs while blurring boundaries between genres.

For Stelfox, chart success and sales are secondary: "I just want to make good music with Starsailor as long as it feels relevant."

Chris Nixon is a San Diego writer.

Kicked in the Shiz-nins

Talked with James Mercer from the shiny indie-pop quartet about freezing rain, mold in his basement and the pressure to follow the critically acclaimed debut "Oh, Inverted World." Highly respected San Diego critic Chris Nixon calls 2003's "Chutes Too Narrow" "brilliant," so they must have done something right. Here's the article that ran in today's (2/5/04) San Diego Union-Tribune:


MANAGEMENT TRAINING

The Shins' James Mercer is 'sort of the leader of an organization' – he's learning by doing, and doing well

By Chris Nixon

February 5, 2004

On a particularly wintry cold January day from his Portland home, Shins' lead singer-guitarist-songwriter James Mercer contemplates the sheer gorgeous pitfalls and heavenly perils of an ice storm. Having lived his life in England, New Mexico and now Oregon, it's a phenomenon he's never encountered before.

"The trees are just bent over with ice," says the usually soft-spoken, now astounded Mercer. "There are a bunch of power lines down. Literally, you could ice skate down the street. It's really beautiful in a destructive kind of way."

Known for his symphonies of sunshiny pop and happy harmonies, Mercer's talk of gloomy weather might come as a surprise for those merely familiar with his reputation. But the 32-year-old songwriter knows how to mix the sublime with the bittersweet.

Mercer sings in "Young Pilgrim": A cold and wet November dawn / And there are no barking sparrows / Just emptiness to dwell upon / I fell into a winter slide / And ended up the kind of kid who goes down chutes too narrow.

Mercer's occasionally somber, melancholic lyrics, combined with the band's upbeat indie pop melodies, give the Shins a depth rarely seen in bands with only two albums to its credit. But the Shins kicked around the Albuquerque, N.M., music scene for a few years before getting national attention.

Formerly known as Flake, the quartet started playing together in the early 1990s. In 1997, Mercer started a side project known as the Shins. After Flake fell apart, he eventually incorporated his former bandmates to take part in the Shins.

Mercer's situation has changed in the past couple of years, but the singer isn't forced to run away from screaming hordes of adoring fans, yet.

"I don't have the situation where you walk out into the street and people recognize you, says Mercer. "The only thing I miss about the early days of the Shins is that I used to not have any responsibilities.

"Two years ago everything changed. All of a sudden, I was the person who was writing the songs, who was recording the records. One difficult thing now is that I'm sort of the leader of an organization. You have to develop management skills."

Along with drummer Jesse Sandoval, bassist Neal Langford and keyboard player Marty Crandall, Mercer turned the indie rock world upside down with its debut "Oh, Inverted World."

Like a child standing on his hands to see the world differently, Mercer and his mates reinterpreted artful pop. With titles like "Caring Is Creepy," the songwriter proved he knew how to turn a phrase (from "One by One All Day"): Oh, inverted world / If every moment of our lives / Were cradled softly in the hands of some strange and gentle child / I'd not roll my eyes so.

The 2001 release established the Shins at the head of the indie pop class. On 2003's brilliant "Chutes Too Narrow," the band stretches out further to add more sonic diversity.

Packed full of songs with titles like "Kissing the Lipless," "Mine's Not a High Horse," "Pink Bullets" and "Fighting in a Sack," Mercer lives up to the hype churned up by "Oh, Inverted World."

The songwriter reminds us that song lyrics should be poetry (from "Kissing the Lipless"): You tested your metal of doe's skin and petals / While kissing the lipless / Who bleed all the sweetness away.

Currently, the Shins are touring behind "Chutes Too Narrow," which came out in October of last year. The band will play at 'Canes Bar & Grill Sunday.

During his breaks from the road, Mercer is constantly crafting new songs, which brings us back to his home studio in rainy (sometimes icy) Portland.

"I don't really write when I'm on the road, so the whole thing of being on tour all the time is inevitably setting back the release of the next record for us," says Mercer, who hopes to release a new Shins album every year and a half. "Whenever I'm home, I'm working on songs daily. Working on songs, which really means sitting around playing guitar and goofing off. It's my job. That's when the best ideas come out: when you're not thinking about it."

Chris Nixon is a San Diego writer.

Jazz-funk revivals

The Geyboy Allstars made a triumphant return to San Diego this Friday, Jan. 30, packing 4th & B with a cramped but happy crowd. They played pretty much all of my favs: "Happy Friends," "Tenor Man," etc. It's was good to see Karl Denson onstage twice in one week. Just last week he made a cameo at Maceo Parker's Belly Up Tavern show. I had a chance to talk with Robert Walter last week, covering the past and the future of S.D.'s favorite jazz funksters.

Here's the story that ran in the San Diego Union-Tribune's Night&Day section on Thursday, Jan. 29:

The Greyboy Allstars return, refreshed

By Chris Nixon

January 29, 2004

'I guess I'm going to have to get a job, there ain't one thing on the streets no more," croons Greyboy Allstars singer and sax player Karl Denson, swinging soulfully on "Get a Job" from 1999's "Live."

Packed with jams, the album runs through 10 extended tunes anchored by the rock solid grooves of bassist Chris Stillwell and drummer Zak Najor. Keyboardist Robert Walter imparts melodic tones from his organ and electric piano and Elgin Park (aka Mike Andrews) adds the "ka-chunk-chunk" funk guitar and a few sweet jazzy solos.

"Live" marked the height of the band's powers, showcasing its musical and improvisational prowess. Ironically, the disc also marked the last recorded output from the band, sending the members out into the world to find new jobs.

The Greyboy Allstars went on indefinite hiatus in 1999, a code word for "breakup" in musician speak. In a recent interview, San Diego native Walter simply said: "Everybody got burned (out)."

"We did it for so long and we did it so much: we were playing on the road constantly," continued Walter. "Then, whenever we came to San Diego from the road, we would play locally constantly for five years. I think everyone felt a little trapped in it after a while, because your entire life is all about this one thing. We're all interested in a lot of different styles of music."

The band's five members went their separate ways: Denson and Walter formed their own bands, while Najor and Stillwell jammed with their former bandmates. Elgin Park produced other bands (Metric, Brendon Benson, Jason Mraz) and performed with friend Gary Jules on the Tears for Fears cover "Mad World" for the "Donnie Darko" soundtrack (the single reached No. 1 in the United Kingdom in 2003).

Then a curious thing happened: All the members were hanging out at the Belly Up listening to Karl Denson's Tiny Universe in late 2002, and they decided to play a few tunes together. It had been three years since the band had performed together, but the chemistry still felt right. Walter said: "Everybody was in town, so we all got up and tried to remember what we were doing."

Since that fateful show in Solana Beach, the year 2003 found the Greyboy Allstars reuniting for a few small tours. Now, there is talk of a new album in 2004: "There are a couple of things we've been discussing: One is work on some new tunes. The other is to take the old records and remix/remaster them with some bonus stuff and some enhanced CD stuff."

According to Walter, the band members needed to re-establish their identities away from the group to make the Allstars work.

"It's great to do the projects outside of the group and come back to it," said Walter. "I don't think the Greyboy Allstars would satisfy any of us as the only thing we did. One of the great things about the group is we were all into different styles, but we came together in mutual love for this one type of music. We need to still be coming from different places, or else it's not very interesting."

For Walter personally, the work with his own band, the 20th Congress, has given him musical perspective and a deeper understanding of group dynamics.

"From having to run my own band and really having to think about how I want my own music to sound, it's given me a well-rounded understanding of music," said Walter, who along with the Allstars will take the stage at 4th & B tomorrow.

"Greyboy Allstars in a way is like a safety zone. You can always hide behind the skills of the other players. Doing my own thing and being alone out front taught me a lot. Plus, just playing constantly for all of those years, hopefully you're always learning."

Chris Nixon is a San Diego writer.

... And Brit-rock blokes

Fran Healy, lead singer of Scottish quartet Travis, turns out to be a very nice man. Gracious and geuinely engaged in our conversation, Healy practically begged me to go to Scotland -- especially since it's the homeland of the Nixons: "There's no place like Scotland in the world. It's inspired so many poems and songs through history."
Here's the Travis story that ran in the Union-Tribune's Night&Day section Thursday, Jan. 29:

Travis pulls through to create memories

By Chris Nixon

January 29, 2004

After four years of constant touring behind its 2000 breakthrough album, "The Man Who," and 2001's "The Invisible Band," Scottish quartet Travis desperately needed a break.

The band's popularity had steadily grown since the mid '90s, when Travis joined Oasis as part of an influx of retro Brit-pop bands. But the band felt burned out, suffering from the extreme life of a rock 'n' roll band.

Just when you start to take things for granted, life has a way of playing with your expectations.

During a series of European dates in July 2002, Travis drummer Neil Primrose hit his head while relaxing on vacation. The blow to Primrose's cranium knocked the percussionist out cold, cracking his fifth and sixth vertebrae.

His bandmates (vocalist Fran Healy, guitarist Andy Dunlop and bassist Dougie Payne) actually saved Primrose's life, pulling the unconscious drummer from the water. Most doctors were doubtful about Primrose's chances of walking again. But within six months, he was walking and drumming.

"It's a weird thing, but these things happen for a reason," said a wizened Healy during a recent phone conversation from London. "Millions of people die from things like this every year, and Neal was so, so lucky. It was fortunate he had his friends around and he survived. Just walking would be good enough, but he's playing like nothing ever happened."

During Primrose's recovery, the band retreated to their homeland and recorded. The resulting album, 2003's "12 Memories," emerged from the sessions.

Healy said: "There's no place like Scotland in the world. It's inspired so many poems and song through history."

Trying to sidestep clichés, Healy reflected on the accident's impact on the band and "12 Memories."

"We came back into the music business a completely different band," said the eloquent Healy in his Scottish brogue. "We care about how well things do (in sales and popularity), of course. But it's not as important as it once was. It throws light on everything and prioritizes things in a certain order. The priorities of humans are generally (messed) up until nature comes and punches you in the face. Luckily for us, we pulled through."

Travis more than pulled through in 2003 – it rebounded with possibly its best effort with "12 Memories," a shimmering revelation of beautiful Brit-pop. From the swaying glistening balladry of "How Many Hearts" to the gritty distorted rock guitar of "Happy to Hang Around," the four boys from Glasgow construct a coherent album of reflective, dreamy pop singles.

Travis planned on quirky, top-notch producer Tchad Blake (Soul Coughing, Neil Finn, Latin Playboys, Los Lobos, Pearl Jam), but Primrose's quick rehab found the band recording ahead of schedule – and before Blake arrived.

"We went to Scotland with a really rudimentary setup," said Healy, who along with the rest of Travis produced most of the album on their own. "And eventually, we recorded the whole record before we knew it. So we took the whole record to Tchad, and we recorded three new songs with him: 'Peace ... Out,' 'Somewhere Else' and 'Love Will Come Through.'

"When you listen to those, they really are different. They definitely sound a lot more dynamic than the stuff that we produced. You can't run in competition with someone who has been recording for like 20 or 30 years. What he brought to the rest of the stuff was really beautiful definition and hi-fi."

Given the dramatic events leading up to "12 Memories," one might think Healy would be overflowing with song ideas. But even after three albums packed with poignant tunes, the inspiration for Travis's latest disc didn't come easily.

"To be honest, writing songs is still difficult, because you're making something out of nothing," said Healy, who will take the stage with Travis Saturday at downtown's Spreckels Theatre. "But it's like any creative process, like painting a picture or thinking up a story: It starts with absolutely nothing. It starts with this flash, and you have to catch the flash and turn it into something. But those flashes, they're hard to catch."


Chris Nixon is a San Diego writer.

Father of funk sax and ghostly country

I've been interviewing some amazing people lately. Just this week in the Union-Tribune, I had a couple of stories: one on funk pioneer Maceo Parker and the other on New Mexico's Handsome Family.

If you get a minute, check out the stories:
For Parker, the funk retains its charm

By Chris Nixon

January 22, 2004

Always styling with the suit and tie, always exuding old-school professionalism, always brimming with rhythm and soul, funk sax master Maceo Parker remains an icon in the music world.

With his signature recipe of "two percent jazz, 98 percent funky stuff," Parker is a funk-music originator while incorporating hip-hop, jazz and soul to keep his sound inventive and original.

Along with Pee Wee Ellis and Fred Wesley, Parker helped establish the horn section as an essential piece of the funk orchestra. Starting with the classic James Brown groups of the 1960s, Parker brought his syncopated, jazzy style of sax playing to JB's music for more than two decades.

In the mid-'70s, Parker and his cohorts Ellis and Wesley hooked up with Bootsy Collins' Rubber Band and George Clinton, performing the crazy interstellar funk of Parliament-Funkadelic.

"I do use a little bit of both George and James Brown's music," said the gravel-voiced Parker. "James Brown's music is sort of my music too, because I was there when we first recorded it. I enjoyed all the time I spent, not only with those two guys, but Bootsy (Collins), too. So I get a little bit from each one of them."

Not only did Parker gain musical knowledge from the funk legends he's worked with, he also learned how to lead a band. In his own band – an outfit he's led since the early '90s, Parker takes lessons from both Brown and Clinton.

The Maceo Parker band always hits the stage in full suit and tie, drawing on Brown's sense of professional behavior. But he allows for individual freedom and expression in the music, taking a cue from Clinton's free-spirited anarchic Parliament/Funkadelic groups with incendiary live performances.

"George is really loose: You don't have to conform to anything," said the 60-year-old saxophonist, finding the middle ground between Clinton and Brown. "You don't have to be color-coordinated. His whole concept is 'Life ain't nothing but a party.' All of that is totally different than James Brown. You almost have to be in uniform. Most of the songs are pretty much the same every night."

Parker's solo releases, "Roots Revisited" (1990) and "Mo' Roots" (1991), found Parker exploring his jazzy side, while subsequent albums (1998's "FunkOverload," 2000's "Dial: M-A-C-E-O" and 2003's "Made By Maceo") focused on funk. Parker appeared as a guest with a staggering array of artists, including Ani DiFranco ("To the Teeth"), Prince ("Rave Un2 the Joy Fantastic"), Living Colour (Time's Up), Dee-Lite ("Word Clique" and "Infinity Within") and Keith Richards ("Talk Is Cheap").

Through collaborations and constant touring, Parker remains devoted to his craft: "I still love the work, I love my job and I love the people. At the same time, it gets a few bills paid as well. We have six kids, so there's always something to pay for."

One of Parker's sons, Corey, has taken up the family trade. Corey provides rhymes and hip-hop flavor to his dad's stage show, touring with Parker's talented band.

"Most bands have a singer and maybe a few horns, but (Corey) brings the whole rap thing into the mix," said Parker, obviously proud of his son. "He has a lot of fun with it. It's definitely in his blood. He's got the bug, so he's going to be onstage, whether if it's with me or doing his own thing."

Parker's recent work helps complete his resume.

"If there's any void in my career, playing recently with Prince has really filled any gaps for me. Performing with him and seeing how he goes about his business is – how do they say it on TV these days? – it's 'priceless.' "

Chris Nixon is a San Diego writer.


And the Handsome Family:

COUNTRY HIGHWAY
Handsome Family takes its own path to get to the root of roots music

By Chris Nixon

January 22, 2004

minimalist approach to American roots music, full of ghostly imagery and dark harmonies. Mark Owen

Their spooky old-time harmonies and ghostly country stories make the Handsome Family's music an odd blend of early 20th-century folk and modern imagery.

Hailing from Albuquerque, N.M., the husband-and-wife duo creates roots country music straight out of a Victorian gothic novel or a Charles Addams cartoon, telling stories about haunted Wal-Marts and bottomless pits.

Beginning their career together almost a decade ago, the Handsome Family combines the songwriting style of the Carter Family, bittersweet melodies and DIY acoustic music for a beautiful, surreal late-night walk through the cemetery. In the current world of pop star debutantes Beyoncé and Britney, the Handsome Family's rustic tunes sound more genuine than ever.

"(The old songs) make you feel like somebody understands where you're coming from," said lyricist Rennie Sparks during a recent phone conversation from their home in New Mexico, which doubles as the couple's recording studio.

"When you hear someone singing about being 'Bootylicious,' most of us can't relate," she said. "Maybe for a few fleeting seconds at a time have I felt that way. But you listen to a Carter Family song, and I feel like I know these people and I know what they're feeling. It's much closer to the experience of being alive."

Added Brett Sparks: "All of our pop heroes are so young. Beyoncé's like 22 years old, and she's basically controlling the world with her mind and her strange little songs. When we found country and folk music, it made a lot of sense to us. It made a lot of sense to Rennie especially, because she's more of a short story writer than a poet or a conventional rock lyricist."

Following in the footsteps of traditional American song crafters, Brett and Rennie recorded six of their seven full-length albums (one live club recording) in a home studio. They also tour alone, mostly as a duo, keeping things simple and letting the songs speak for themselves in the live context.

The Handsome Family used to tour with its own van, but as Brett put it: "We beat the hell out of it." So now they rent, joining soccer moms across America in their love for minivans.

"It's totally rock 'n' roll when we pull up to a show in a minivan," said Rennie, good-naturedly poking fun at herself.

The couple performs together, writes songs together, tours together and lives together, which can be good for the creative process but can put a strain on the relationship.

"It's nice to work together," said Rennie. "We end up working on things that neither one of us would (create) on our own. I think we end up with something different this way."

"People say, 'Never work with your spouse,' " said Brett, starting a volley of words between the couple. "So that's another experiment we're working on."

Rennie added: "Not only do we work together, we sometimes spend months together where we're never separated unless one of us is in the bathroom."

"Thank god for bathrooms," quips Brett.

With the release of 2003's "Singing Bones," the duo (married for 15 years) strums their way into the listener's heart, providing a testament to the power of exquisite minimalism. A quiet symphony of singing saws and simple songs, "Singing Bones" might be the antidote to the current abundance of dancing Britneys and bouncing Beyoncés.

In contrast to clear-eyed, honest traditional folk music, pop divas seem ridiculous.

"We listen to a lot of what (writer) Greil Marcus would call 'old weird America,' " said Brett. "We listen to a lot of the old music. I don't think it's weird because it's old. I just think it's weird. You could call it O.W.A."

Rennie: "As opposed to N.W.A.: new weird America."

Chris Nixon is a San Diego writer.