what youll find inside
Stephen Romano Interview
Room 710
Road to Rock Stardom
Red Eyed Fly
Fall Fashion Gala
Lance's Comix
Wendy's WWAD
Remember the Movies
Grub - Guide
Off the Street
Chump Change
Usual Crew

room 710


Dickins/Tin Moth
Room710, October 8, 2003

I have to admit I have a soft spot for industrial music, especially for guitar ridden industrial. When NiN’s Broken was released way back in 199somethinorother, I listened to it daily. So I was at Room 710 and saw Tin Moth, a one-man guitar playing industrial band complete with sequenced bass and drums and bizarre couture. Dressed in duct taped pants and obligatory ripped black shirt, Tin Moth played heavy riffs over mechanical bass and drum tracks singing lyrics of doom. The music was pretty good, the hard metal hooks catching on the lynchpin rhythm tracks. The only real weak points about Tin Moth are the lack of human accompaniment on bass and drums and a serious Trent-wish.

The Dickins were up next, a local four piece punk outfit consisting of Mike Dickins on throat and six string, Justin on bass, J Scum on drums, and Justin on geetar. Dressed as everyday rock guys, the Dickins played a set of mostly metal tinged punk to a small but appreciative crowd. The third song they played was called “Burning Flag”, I liked it, it had a good rhythm guitar wise and strong bottom end. The Dickins’ set as a whole was rockin’, sometimes unconfident vocal delivery being the only flaw that makes this diamond real. I got to see the Dickins play again the next night at 710, and that set was definitely more punkish than the set the night before. They played a little looser, a bit of inconsistency that will undoubtedly be worked out in the course of this six-month-old bands’ near future.

-James E


Crow/Egypt/ Speedealer
Room 710, October 16, 2003

This consistent delivery of quality, mind-blowing-heavy music at Room 710 is unprecedented in my experience. It restores a degree of faith in humanity. This was the Dollar-Lone-Star Night we were all corralled to the trough in beer-slugging rock-n-roll comraderie, when Crow ripped out the most appropriate local anthem a band could come up with: "Lone Star! All I need right now is Lone Star!" It was a great song, and feed at the trough we did.

Dude! CROW. How much ass can two guys kick? It was their third show as the newly-sworn dynamic duo, and Crow beat so much ass to a bloody pulp it's beyond a worthy description. Singing, screaming, sweating bullets and strumming a fuzzy, full-band sound on bass guitar, it's Paul Crow of Agony Column fame. On drums it's Glenn Benavides who's also been terrorizing Austin for 20 years. Their sound is thick and warm and heavy. It pushes, powerful and steady like a steam engine, not overly punk/funk so as to lose the weight. It's an original style that one guy compared to Morphine -- probably because of the line-up more than the sound, I'd say. They're more heavy and grungey and manly than Morphine. I heard elements of Beck, and
other great artists that might go unrecognized in a hard-rock/metal crowd. Most impressive to me, they have SONGS - defined, coherent and driving, with a satisfying variety in speed, groove and mood. With a perfect balance between diversity and consistency, they achieve the big picture: their sound as a whole is distinct, and never gets lost. This is what I've been bitching about. STYLE. Crow has it. If you heard them on the radio, you'd know it was them. I was so fascinated and inspired, I just had to butt heads with these sonic super heroes...


R&R: Man, you guys slaughter! Meet me in my office.

Crow: OK.

R&R: So. If you were the interviewer, what would you ask yourself?

Paul: I don't know.

R&R: Put it this way, after all these years of rocking out, what would you want to tell the people?

Glenn: It's weird to be better and smarter than everyone. Ha ha, just kidding.

R&R: No, I think it might be true. You guys did a bad-ass cover of that song, "Don't you know that it's different for girls" - and nobody in the bar could tell me who wrote it. I was thinking Elvis Costello but I knew that was wrong.

Paul: It was Joe Jackson, off his "I'm The Man" album. We listen to all kinds of music and we like doing all kinds of covers -- Jigsaw, Oasis, Nirvana...

R&R: But you do them so heavy and you really make them your own. Hardly anyone would realize they're covers. You got an unbelievably heavy, cool sound for just drums and bass. Where did you get that crazy flying-V bass you were playing?

Paul: I designed it when I was a kid, around 15, and took it to this guy Steve Wise, who built it for me. It took me a few years to pay for it. I finally got it when I was like 18.

R&R: How did you guys meet up, you and Glenn?

Paul: We've known each other for a long time. Glenn was playing in Doctor's Mob and I came to a show and breathed fire. I don't do it anymore 'cuz I lit too many people on fire. When Elysium used to be the Cave Club, I set all their lights on fire.

R&R: Good job. Speaking of caves, you've been around for a million years -- you played with Agony Column at The Cave, my warehouse in San Francisco. That was like 13 years ago. It's really cool to see someone from the old days still walking around, and still ripping! So many people have dropped out or just died. What about the punk rock days?

egyptGlenn: One time I dressed up as Sgt. Pepper and got my ass kicked by punk rock slam dancers!

Paul: It's cool to have played all around the world and then come back to your roots. We're still just punks.

R&R: Now you got it down to two guys. That must be a lot easier than the 5-way pain in the ass...

Paul: Yeah, being in a band is a pain in the ass. Two guys is easier when you gotta pay a mortgage and all that. And when people buy shots for the band, four shots go a lot farther between two guys.

R&R: You guys have great solid song structure. It sounds like you put some effort into your songwriting.

Paul: Well... I have a 15-minute rule: if it takes more than 15 minutes to write a song, it's probably not worth a shit. It's really just a stupid waste of time. The whole business is about selling T-shirts.

In conclusion, I really need to get me a Crow T-shirt.

EGYPT is evil. E-V-I-L grave-robbing Heavy Metal. Anyone who knows me as Black Sabbath Beky, or hey beeotch, or anything else, knows that I am the number one Egypt fan. This was an especially thrilling show from the emperors of geek-metal, because (1) I was already so hopped up on Crow, (2) I was bombed cuz it was dollar-beer night, and (3) they didn't fuck up their songs for once. Well put it this way: I didn't notice it. The Egyptian curse is put upon us, their small but fierce pack of groveling Metal trolls. For all eternity we are damned to starve between shows, writhing and craving for the particularly evil formula of Stupid-Heavy Punk-Ass Metal that can be sucked only from the poisonous, cracked and sagging tit of
Egypt. MORE... MORE... MORE....


SPEEDEALER was the perfect antidote to slap me out of my Egyptian coma. After all, nothing cures an addiction like a new addiction. Harder, faster, and just as evil, I have to say, due to their lead singer who absolutely shripped the newest layer of scabbed flesh off my skull. A damn chummy bunch of barbaric blokes from Dallas, Speedealer lives up to their name by dealing out an absolutely relentless onslaught of full-speed-ahead homocidal southern-thrash mayhem that actually has a twang of its own. Somewhere between a speeded-up Fu Man Chu and Nashville Pussy, with Black Flag in the back seat, Speedealer cracked the whip that left a hundred stinging welts on my proverbial arse. I can't say enough about how much I liked these guys on a personal level. They were just smashing. Thanks for the kick-ass CD's,
Eric! I 'specially like the twisted, whiney wankin' guitar riffs. Speedealer says hello to Wendy, who no doubt would have been there stalking the stage in her usual front-and-center position, had she not been called
away on tour-documentation duty the night before. So much rock, so little time. If only there were ten copies of each of us wenches, maybe we could get around.

- Beky Hayes

Pocket Fishrmen/Free Range Bastards
Room 710, October 10, 2003

SO…Where the fuck were you the night of October 10, 2003? You shoulda been at Room 710 for a night of kick ass Rock and Roll. I got downtown at about 11:00pm or so. I got a damn good parking space for that time on a Friday night, up on Eighth St. only a block and half or so away from the club. I got to the show at about 11pm and the ‘Bastards were already playing, I missed about five songs, and the FRB were kicking some major musical ass on stage. Just Rockin’ and a Rollin’. Maybe it was the fact that they were playing a show with the Pocket Fishrmen, but they were fully wired. They played Agony Column’s “GGG,” a metal beast of a tune that gets me “right here man”(hand over heart, tear in eye). “ALL HAIL SKULL CRUSHING PALM MUTE”

The Pocket Fishrmen were up next and I eagerly awaited their presence on stage. I got near the front of the stage as the members of the PF filed onto the floor dressed as Star Wars characters, Jason and Chris in stormtrooper outfits, Branton in Princess Leia drag and He-Who-Shall-Be-Nameless in Boba Fett attire. The crowd hooted and hollered as the band took their places. From the first note the Fishrmen were on fire. The near capacity crowd was treated to the splendiferous sounds of Real Rock and Roll as seen through the collectively perverted eyes of the Pocket Fishrmen.

As the PF’s set unfolded, the small contingent of Slam Dancers and Fist Raisers grew, sucking in those around them. They played all their classics (heck what song of theirs is not a classic?) including “One Hand Job, One Blow Job, One Vagina”, “Go out Smokin’”, and my personal fave “We Kill Evil” during which I got baptized by the pre-requisite-for-a-Rockshow flying beer spewing forth from multiple upraised and crazily gyrating bottles of Lonestar. The band left the stage and then returned after the wholly appreciative crowd clamored for more. Bless you boys.

-James E.


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