V.26 No.12 | 03/23/2017
Ellis Paul - Preview
Ellis Paul Returns
By Doug Cohen [ Mon Mar 27 2017 9:41 AM ]
Music Preview: Ellis Paul
V.26 No.12 | 3/23/2017
courtesy of the artist
Delphia is Here, Now
The eternal return as reincarnation
By August March
Delphia chats with August March about music and marching forward.
V.26 No.11 | 3/16/2017
Courtesy of the artist
Cali Shaw and KC
Local singer-songwriter folks out
By Doug Cohen
Alibi folk music correspondent Doug Cohen catches up with Cali Shaw.
V.26 No.9 | 3/2/2017
The New Slang is Still Rocanrol
In an interstellar burst Shins are back to save the universe
By August March
August March discusses pop reality with Shins’ frontman James Mercer.
V.26 No.7 | 02/16/2017
Party Like it's the End of the World
Friday, Feb 24: Aliento: Carnaval 2017[ Thu Feb 23 2017 12:00 PM ]
The musical group PANdemonium takes participants on a journey through the Carnaval traditions of Cuba, Trinidad, Brazil and New Orleans.
V.26 No.8 | 2/23/2017
Courtesy of the Artist
Portrait of the Artist
Cullinan as a Young Rocker
By August March
Dillon Cullinan hates the name of his band. Luckily, no matter what he calls his sonic project, the music totally fucking rocks.
V.26 No.6 | 02/09/2017
Even Bubbe Will Shake It
Friday, Feb 17: Fifteenth Annual KlezmerQuerque Festival
By Joshua Lee [ Thu Feb 16 2017 10:00 AM ]
Enjoy dance and instrumental music rooted in traditional wedding ceremonies of the Eastern European Jewish people.
V.26 No.7 | 2/16/2017
The Spirit of Whiton
Bassist returns to roots and kicks ass
By August March
James Whiton (ex-Eric McFadden Trio and Apricot Jam) on systematic beauty, ostinato and making modern music.
V.26 No.6 | 2/9/2017
Sunlight Life is Good · Dad & Steve Solid State · Lone Piñon Dias Felices: String Music of America's Southwest and Mexico's North
By Geoffrey Plant
Alibi record reviewer Geoffrey Plant gets all local on us, discussing new recordings by Sunlight, Dad & Steve as well as Lone Piñon.
V.26 No.5 | 02/02/2017
Mary Teresa Herrera
The Beat of Time
Saturday, Feb 4: A Journey Through Black Music
By August March [ Fri Feb 3 2017 10:00 AM ]
Performances from WaMba African Drummers, Shiloh Missionary Baptist Church Inspirational Choir, dancer Trey "Vision" Pickett and vocalists Tracey Whitney, Zenobia Conkerite and Raven Rutherford.
James Whiton and the Leeches of Lore!
Collaborative effort will be mind-blowing, say music experts
By August March [ Thu Feb 2 2017 1:54 PM ]
On Friday, Feb. 24, 2017 we're all going to head up to Santa for a gig that must not be missed and we'd like you to come along too!
Along with the fantastically funky and audaciously avant-garde folks over at Meow Wolf (1352 Rufina Circle, Santa Fe), Weekly Alibi is proud to present a concert featuring some of the best music this town—this state, this nation, this world, this universe for that matter—has to offer.
James Whiton, a master of the bass in all its forms, whether acoustic or electric, just released a new record entitled Perchance to Dream on Cinder Cone Media Worldwide. He'll perform his new work, the entirety of the album, that night.
And if that ain't enough to knock your head into a distant galaxy, then prepare yourself for Whiton's special guests, Burque's legendary Leeches of Lore, an outfit that knows no sonic boundaries.
Experts say this gig will blow your freaking mind.
As Whiton told Weekly Alibi, "This new record, I made it for my damn self. I wanted it to be beautiful and dark. I didn't want someone telling me I had to make it "poppier" or more accessible. I recorded with Howard Wulkan at the Lab, he's got an indie label called Cinder Cone Media, and he told me he wanted me to make the record I wanted to make.
It's a journey. It's about taking those dark and terrible parts of myself, the parts we all pretend don't exist, and making music out of them. The cover art reflects that aesthetic. My friend Norton Wisdom, a brilliant painter from LA, does a lot of live painting with bands and most of the art for this record comes from those performances.
The album uses a lot of classical compositional techniques; themes and motives come in and out as you progress through the songs. I used a lot of sound design between tracks, like those old Pink Floyd records I love so much. I think it helps the record tell the story, puts the listener right where I want them to be to experience the song.
It's instrumental music, so the listener is free to make their own assumptions, but I also wanted to set the scene a little bit. I use the sound design to let your ears know where I was coming from when I conceived of the piece."
Sounds, pretty cool, eh? Tickets for this 9pm, 21+ elusively genre-busting concert are only $10.
So be there or continue to portray yourself as L7, okay?
V.26 No.4 | 1/26/2017
Above the Ground Beneath
Civerolo revisions metal now, for the future
By August March
It’s all about The Ground Beneath, according to local metal maven Steve Civerolo.
Run the Jewels Run the Jewels 3
By Desmond Fox
The unlikely pairing of Definitive Jux mogul El-P and Atlanta-based rapper Killer Mike is possibly the greatest thing to happen to hardcore hip-hop in the 21st century.
V.26 No.3 | 01/19/2017
Evil Elvis Photography
Kinky Curiosities Party February 13th!
Rip Williams & Shawna Cory, Mistress Lexianna
By Julian Wolf [ Wed Jan 25 2017 3:39 PM ]
Our too-hot-for-print 2017 Sex Survey results are in, and all will be revealed at Alibi Fetish Events: Kinky Curiosities party at Sister on February 13. Here's the first tease of what's to come!
It is our pleasure to welcome back the dynamic duo, Rip Williams and Shawna Cory! They brought a compelling energy that spellbound the denizens of the Fetish Formal, and we're delighted to have them back to perform a suspension performance at Kinky Curiosities.
Sail on, Sail on, Sailor
By August March [ Wed Jan 18 2017 7:10 PM ]
On Saturday night the bell on my landline went off and damn it all if it weren't the Sailor, ringing me up to hear more about Duke Ellington and his way with the piano.
"Come on over, August," he breathed gruffly and grandly into the handset, "and show me again how those first 16 bars go, because I have an idea on how to fit a harmonica over that bit, plus which I believe I can lay a fine shuffle under that storm and so we will be on our way to being a fine jazz band, after all."
I'd already had a couple of drinks of Wild Turkey by that time though and told him I didn't fancy driving through the student ghetto just to lay down some clumsy riffs on his Yamaha electric, but he disagreed.
"Go on and walk over then, Mr. March and I will mix you up a creme soda with Jameson's in the bottom of the glass."
I could not resist and so spent the next 3 hours rambling through "East Saint Louis Toodle-oo" while the rest of the boys followed along blithely. My wife called about 10 and told me I better get on home if I wanted any spaghetti. "Who could resist that," I told the Sailor as I dropped my charts onto his desk, grabbed my cane and ambled toward the door. I flashed him the peace sign and said I'd see him Tuesday for practice.
That was the last time I saw the man folks here in Dirt City called by a nautical name.
I'd known him since I was a kid, and him being 20 years my senior did stop us becoming fast friends. He was part brother and part father; we hiked, smoked, drank, jammed and regaled each other with stories of where the other had been on the Earth.
He was the only man I knew that had seen more of the planet than me. I'd been on all the continents, excepting Antarctica; his tale of seeing the Ross Ice Shelf rise up on the horizon set my brain on fire and besides that we always had a laugh about the after-midnight goings on in Singapore, the lights of the north star and the aurora way up north or how it was impossible to understand the dialect of the Peruvian seamen who landed in Guayaquil looking for a good time.
When he broke his hip late last year, my wife and I sat with him at the hospital, brought him dinner from Los Cuates on the weekends and made sure his walker was ready to go when he was. The pain was bad he told us, but nothing like the time he got burned putting out a fire on an oiler outside of Osaka.
Just last week, we spent an afternoon listening to the Rolling Stones new album, a blues thing. And I complained that Charlie Watts was about an eighth note behind Keith Richards when it counted but he said to take it easy because we were all getting old.
On Tuesday morning the bell on my cell phone went off and god damn it to hell, it was the Sailor's neighbor who was weeping on the line when I answered and then told me the news.
"Mike got up early this morning and now he has died."
I went home early that day, staring into the sky as I drove. I sat at my piano and played until my hands hurt, thinking about the time the Sailor told me how Polaris was possibly the center of the universe—blinking timelessly, brightly while the rest of the sky rolled and spun chaotically around and around.
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