The Kickstand

The Kickstand is a community oriented bike shop, venue and thrift store. If you have not heard about it — it’s about time.

The quirky warehouse mainly functions as a charitable means for bike repair and bike repair education, but also houses a thrift shop and stage area, which help raise funds for The Kickstand’s main project. The place was started late last year by Ani Previc.

As a venue, The Kickstand has a great deal of charm. The lack of air conditioning and disheveled pieces of bicycles add to the charm. On the walls hang local artwork for sale. Painted bicycles and Christmas lights also decorate the red interior. The people are nice and everything is in the name of DIY bike repair. The only downside is its distance from campus.

It is a gigantic building, but can be difficult to find. The most helpful directions come from Glypher, creator of Gainesvillebands.com, who backs The Kickstand as a committee member. He has a picture of the area on his news forum.

The Alligator has done two pieces on The Kickstand. The first is a multimedia article that has pictures of the interior under construction and is narrated by Vyki Englert. In the piece, Chelsea Carnes is quoted as stressing the importance of the venue aspect of The Kickstand.

The other Alligator article can be read by clicking here.

Back in May, my own band opened for a show at the Kickstand. It was a great time. My girlfriend came down from Tallahassee to witness. My newspaper editor and her friends also came. A modest slew of others too (including a roommate). The atmosphere was relaxed (despite my own anxiety before any live performance) and we were told to start whenever we felt comfortable.

Jon Crocker played after us. His set was very intimate, full of personal anecdotes and jokes that interrupted his songs. Everyone sat around him in a style reminiscent of elementary story time. A dog hopped around the crowd and interrupted many musical moments.

The seemingly awkward highschool band, Max’s Birthday played after Crocker. Their piano driven indie music was amusing. Here is a picture of what the stage looked like with them on it.

The last band to play was the Muse/Radiohead-esque Dead Songwriters. A very talented group of musicians who originated from Ocala.

The night was blisteringy hot. The night was authentic.

A list of upcoming Kickstand shows can be found here. I strongly urge you to support the shows.

I earnestly hope the place becomes big — it deserves to. The many volunteers backing the project have big hearts and great ambitions for the place.

The Kickstand has both a MySpace and a website. Check them out and go to their shows. Learn how to get your bike fixed if necissary. If you do not have a bike, let them help you build one.

Ongakuga keko edu (That may or may not mean something)

So, this has been quite a long hiatus. Part of the time I have been in Japan; part of it has been spent laying around being lazy.

I now write for “The Alligator” doing mostly music related stories. My last published story was a local album review on The Early Twenties. I hope to do more local albums reviews in the future.

The Early Twenties review

A story about Glypher — the man behind Gainesvillebands.com

A series of reviews that was published while I was in Japan

I like listening to rap while writing stories. I imagine it looking funnier than it probably does. I make playlists based on what I think will go well with my keyboard tapping and then wonder how it effects my writing — if at all.

Lately, I have been working on a story about experimental music and an organization trying to gather experimental musicians in Gainesville. It has been a leisurely pursuit with a far off deadline.

I listened to a lot of Japanese music while out of the States. I find that most genres in Japan seem to be tainted by the corny earnestness of pop music. Permed and straightened hair, bland cliche beats catered to every type of song, voices that fluctuate at the exact right moment, etc. Just the way the culture views music seems different. In Japan, you can rent CDs like movies. I see the industry there as attention defect, with the market moving quickly and the devotion of the audience fleeting. It is amusing to see covers of American songs translated into Japanese.

I sang in a  karaoke booth. I had watched my family before, but had never participated. “Here Comes the Sun” by the Beatles and some Talking Heads songs were among the selections. My uncle sang some hair metal band he remembered from his youth. My mother and him sang a pretty duet together. My little cousin sang his favorite theme songs from cartoons and children’s television shows. I drank melon soda out of a tiny cup and my youngest cousin attempted to stick his hand in it to grab ice. The microphone tended to exaggerate lows and highs, making my mother sound like Barry Manilowe at times and like Alvin the chipmunk at others. It had a lot of reverb on it to mask any bad voice, but to me that tended to make it worse. I was never a karaoke person, but I guess I can say I have done it now — in the true form before it was popularized, butchered and repackaged in the States.

Back in Gainesville: one bandmate has left and one has returned. I hope my band takes off in some respect. I just want to play shows again. I am thinking that this will happen in the fall, when everyone is conveniently here and less flighty.

And those are my musical shenanigans. Later, I will write about some new artists I have found along the way.

If you find a bag of weed on the floor motherfucker — What the fuck you gonna do? Pick it up, pick it up…

I have been a neglectful neglecter and if this blog were a child, Child Protective Services would have investigated long ago. If you really want to know why I have been absent from here, read my personal blog … though I have neglected that blog also. I am sure an update will be there at some point.

Anyways, I want to mention the Method Man and Redman show I saw on April 23. Yes, that was almost a month ago

I need to get this down before the memory wanes.

I had trouble getting anyone to go at first, but finally got a hold of a friend through a friend who was ecstatic to accompany me. We stuck out like a sore thumb, but had the time of our lives.

The iconic duo mustered up every sinew and spick of spit to prove their worth. They worked the crowd like no other performance I had ever seen. There is no need no to hustle on the streets when they can hustle a crowd like they did.

“We aren’t only rappers, we’re also M.C.s,” Method Man said.

It could have easily turned out different with the mixed crowd of half-interested college students and “wanna-be ghetto, but really just Gainesville hick” citizens. Not many people filled the stadium, which suprised me since it was a free show. That did not end up mattering though.

As soon as they stepped on the stage, the energy was stepped up. I actually saw someone yawn during the opening acts, but mouths were only open in shouts of “Wu Tang” once Method and Red layed out their master plan.

Method jumped down into the crowd and prowled around on the chairs as he rapped the first song.

The two danced on the speaker systems, humping the air and pursing their lips. Redman did his quirky indian chop with a fist and discoed to the beat. They sprayed water bottles into the crowd, which seems like a cheap effect, but worked perfectly.

At one point, they demanded the crowd stop sitting in their designated seats and come up to the stage. The mob rushed to the front, pushing through police and security. The hands were up and waving.

They did everything from Wu Tang classics to originals from their classic stoner movie, “How High.”

It was too bad my friend and I were stuck on the side bleachers and could not bum rush the stage like everyone else. Luckily, Redman decided to come to us. He jumped the stage and climbed up the bleachers. We stood right by him and did awkward white dances with the small crowd. He fell into me to be hoisted up: a sweaty rapper falling on a weak college kid does not work out that well. We finally got him in the air and he crowd surfed off the bleachers.

“Redman fell on me!” I believe were my exact words to my girlfriend after leaving the show.

They threw leftover water bottles at the end and my friend ended up getting one. We called it “Wu Tang” water and drank it while walking home.

I heard last time Method man and Redman came to Gainesville a riot or something started. But that is just hearsay that I do not feel like researching or ruining. I can see them starting a riot.

I have gained tremendous respect for the duo. They are funny, entertaining and can rap like fuck. The whole reason I went to the show (besides the cheap price of free) was because I love Wu Tang clan and wanted to see a fraction of it through Method Man. I left with a million other reasons to have gone.

One Hundred Point Five The Buzz (Killer) — The Format Is Wrong Bob

A few days ago, a friend and I were sitting in the kitchen complaining about a radio station that had switched to corporate rock. Back in its hey-day (its hey-day being a mere few months ago), it was the only decent radio station in the whole area — now it spews the same crap every other rock station dubs music.

Today I read about the demise of 100.5 the Buzz in ¨The Alligator.¨ It seems I am not alone in my disappointment.

But I already knew this from reading forums posted by outraged fans on Gainesvillebands.com. Still, it felt nice to be validated by a printed newspaper.

I cannot believe the station has changed its format. When it first dawned on me, I was in denial. I assumed that I kept catching the station at some awkward time. My car has had little use this year, and driving being the only time I listen to FM radio, it seemed plausible.

I always respected the station’s spirit — even on a bad day. It was refreshing to hear local and independent music blaring through my Grand Marquis speakers. I was exposed to many bands in that car.

I would gloat about the Buzz to friends in other cities.

I do not understand the financial decision behind this move. Most music venues in Gainesville support the exact music that the Buzz played — so, there is a market.

If these venues can survive, the Buzz can survive. Where it will not survive is competing against the numerous stations in the area that already play main-stream rock.

I recall a commercial for the Buzz where famous band members all announced themselves and their bands (a spoof on endorsements heard on other stations): something like “hey this is Chester from Linkin Park” and “this is so-and-so from Slip Knot” and then the announcer would break in with “and we don’t play any of that dog sh*t.”

Listeners still remember that commercial and some took it to heart. The first post about the change on Gainesvillebands.com, titled “what happened to not playing any of that”, said it quite simply with, “dog shit? eh?”

Goodbye whinny indie music, Gainesville punk bands that broke up in 1996 and crappy techno Sundays — its time to turn a new leaf and prepare for a Nickelback meets Buckcherry onslaught.

“You’re a crazy bitch But you f*ck so good, I’m on top of it.”

Spouting About Local Bands That Come To Mind

No inspiration has reared its head lately; at least no music topic worthy of this blog.

Of course there has been music. It floats around me constantly from grocery store aisles and from under my fingers.

Maybe “plenty of inspiration but no aspiration” is a more accurate description.

All focus has been inward and locally.

So, on that vein, here is a synopsis of some local Gainesville musicians that command some attention.

On a side note: I do not count bands like Against Me and Tom Petty. They have roots here, but they left this sunken swamp long ago for brighter stars.

The bands listed here are still here — doing their best in this hick, college town to belong. They are the ones you find placing giddy, nervous faith at open mic nights and hustling friends to watch them at the Atlantic. They are the ones who gave up long ago on making it big (only to the public, there is still a sliver of hope in the most down-trodden souls) and continue rocking in Gainesville just as they did in 1999.

Tonight, I plan to make an appearance at Lillians Music Store for an open mic night. A new, fresh and seemingly disjointed band called Bandits will be playing there. One member of the band lives in St. Petersburg and the other two are a couple, made official on Facebook, who attend UF.

Their vocal-harmonies are smooth and guitars, repeating traps of chilling melodies. Their influences include Iron and Wine and Sufjan Stevens; the outcome of this being folk lullabies of the college variety. With a little more production and some extra textures, they could easily overthrow other minimalistic-indie bands and crown themselves kings of the genre. This is fairly presumptuous, considering the band just made their MySpace page February 29 and are making one of their first live debuts tonight.

An update: After watching them live, I am not disappointed. The folk part of their self-labeled “folk-indie” band, is more pronounced with the addition of a banjo and less recording equipment between receivers. Covers were chosen well and complemented their style. The three distinct voices in the band blended beautifully and made for lush harmonies.

It was a relaxing evening. I could not get a roommate to tag along and so I went alone. I decided to bike rather than find parking. I arrived earlier than expected and wandered around downtown Gainesville waiting for them to play. Saw many sights and overheard many conversations.

While Bandits played their folk music, a club next door poured out animated party people; predominately blacks who commented on the Bandit’s music with phrases like “now that is country right there.”

Before they played, I caught some of the house band. It was a trip down memory lane … here were the same people playing the same songs from one of my first shows over a year ago. It was partly the reason I went to see Bandits.

I have fond memories of playing at Lillians. Rocking out in front of a small group of 40-something-year-olds and about 3 friends who stuck around on a Monday night. There is nothing to make you more humble.

I did my awkward thing after the set. Mumbled incorrect pronunciations of “good job” to the members and then biked back home, humming one of their covers that was stuck in my head.

A band I have been reminiscing about a lot recently is The Most. They broke up sometime early this year, but their quirky, rock-opera performances left a lasting impression on me. Perhaps, listing the Most goes against my earlier assertions about what makes a Gainesville band, but they just split up less than a month ago and it seems like even less than that since the band was furtively making the rounds at music venues.

One of the last blogs on their MySpace sums it up eloquently:

“As far as The Most is concerned, I thought we could go all the way, and in a way, we did. If ‘all the way’ means playing with Just A Scientist at the Rion Ballroom at a show no one knows about, while random people jump onstage and make us feel awkward. In that case we made it big time.”

I was at that show. It was indeed awkward. A small man with orangutan arms and a larger man with hair down to his back jumped onstage and danced ‘the robot’ for a good 15 minutes. They proceeded to bum-rush the microphone after the show and confess their love and admiration for The Most. The band tended to attract a strange cult. During the same show, a smelly, weasel man high-kicked around the audience, holding out a clipboard for a mailing list. The Weasel was a regular at the shows. You could often find him dancing to The Most as if it were an aerobics class, sweat dripping, pumping his arms to the beat. All he was missing was a step-stool and mat.

They were a band that made you feel like you were at a bigger venue than you were. They turned that small bar into a stadium. They oozed bloated egos. The singer belted like a Broadway singer and reached out toward the sky at the faraway dreams of stardom that he never got. They had it all, but they never got their just reward: validation.

One last band to mention before retiring is: Oh Sanders. I am not a rabid fan of their indie-pop sound, but “The State of Disorder” is one of the catchiest songs I have ever heard. Most particularly, the guitar/glockenspiel hook is infectious.

More than good musicians, they are excellent networkers. It is an incestuous, mother-son, gooey mess in the Gainesville music scene and they are the forefront in this melting pot.

“The singer is also in another band as a keyboardist…They are big fans of another band who always come to their shows… who are on the same small label as this other band… They play often with this funky Artic Monkey-esque band. They have an ambitious singer who is also the drummer in another band who employs a guitarist who is in two or three bands…”

Oh Sanders is pop without embarrassment. It is only natural for them to throw in funny keyboard sounds and danceable swooping high-hats. Stella Leung’s voice borders on good and bad, tolerable and interesting. Her subject matter is indie-poppish (if ever a terrible word existed) and funny at times.

I have quite a few more Gainesville bands to go through, but this post is running over 1,000 words and therefore should taper off. I will finish this list some other time in a “local bands: part two” or something.