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The
semi-comic relief over, it was time to give it up to the PiNK SWORdS.
Ever-evolving, these guys have hit a deeper groove where music and
performance melts together. The change in tempo within some of their
songs give off a vibe of the natural, the real – all with
a compelling blood-and-piss-stained attitude that drives some to
throw ice cubes down the band members’ pants, while others
“almost felt like crying”. Yes, it is a great power
to trigger mass insanity. |
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 Shit/00
SpiesShit. Goddamn. Get off your ass and slam. This here bad-ass band from San Antonio is called SHIT. And their singer’s name is BEER. The band was ready to start, but they needed Beer. “Where’s Beer?” they called out. Beer was in the can. Beer got on stage and rocked like the long-haired beerbarian he is. He dumped beer on his head while he rocked out. Maybe that’s why he is known as Beer. Most likely, there is no other station in life suitable for this ruffian than singing in a loud rock band and dumping beer on his head. I’ve been seeing a lot of Beer. A couple nights later at the Backroom, at the Cannibal Corpse show, there was Beer at the bar. Beer is everywhere. Beer is great. I love Beer! Oh and the band - Shit, they were all great, but I think Beer makes Shit. Double Naught Spies served up the usual box of high-energy straightforward garage-punk popsicles. Their crazy chick drummer with that hilarious prissy-librarian-gone-wild look… dude, the way she flails around like that hot-tub sex scene in Showgirls, it’s a miracle she makes contact with a drum head. The more she wiggles, the more we giggle. She was bippin’ and boppin’ all over the place, even at the expense of the beat, but who cares? We don’t come here to put on the pro-gear musician evil eye. Beerland is about having fun letting your gut hang out and grabbing some hot punk rocker’s butt. -Bek Sabbath |
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 Crackpipes2/19/04 The show at Beerland on Thursday night celebrated Ben Webster's birthday, while the proceeds went to Casa Amiga, a rape-crisis shelter in Juarez, Mexico. The show started with Walter Daniels and Wade Driver. They had a very dark, Texas sound. It was Southern free jazz with a trumpet, sax and a wailing harmonica. I swore I heard a slide whistle, too. It was very entertaining albeit difficult listening to a set that had only one song with vocals and structure. But, I suppose that’s what jazz style is all about. Sea of Thousand quickly started, sharply contrasting the first act. The singer never stood on stage but mingled with the crowd in true punk style. I love this band. They go from sludge rock to atonal to hardcore in a matter of a few measures. They keep it interesting to say the least. I’ve seen them before and I always get a very ominous feeling when I hear them. It’s like they  play
the music that marches us all to our doom and they’re laughing
the whole way.The Crack Pipes came recommended to me by Waterloo employee Paul Vetter. The singer sounded like a hybrid between Bonn Scott and Brian Johnson. He stood in front of the speaker, creating lots of annoying and distracting feedback. The Crack Pipes would play a riff over and over in a motorific style and adjusted the volume for effect. You couldn’t help but nod along to this party music. They captured the 70’s rock sound with classic guitar riffs and three-chord progressions changing to a higher key then back again. It created familiarity. So familiar, in fact, that it got tiresome. Although the music was performed well, I didn’t care for it, no matter how many Waterloo employees like them. The last act, The Nervous Exits, was the surprise band of the evening. They showed up 45 minutes after The Crack Pipes ended. This was their second show of the evening so their tardiness was easily forgiven. They sounded like the Stones with a defining punk edge. Unison background screams will do that. The music had a stripped-down garage band feel with great energy. There were no frills, just rock. Overall, the show was enjoyable and eclectic with music ranging from jazz to progressive hardcore to neo-classic rock. –Vernon Effenberger |
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Pink
Swords / The Bulemics