Some questions receive a guarantee to shake you up/ How much marriage urges a windmill to pinch infinity?/ Is a magic hide-a-bed the final home of Spanish fire?/ Is firm corn merrier under gifts of less important love?/ We wonder/ But fantasy moves ahead/ For the iceman just took a turn for the better/ and a small object flies from his mouth/ A daring jewel scales down the belted ear system/ And you have the modular, optimistic silver original/ Welcome to the offshoots of Jupiter. “Part II: The Making of a Soul,” from the album Not Available, by The Residents.
...give up trying to find meaning—or a semblance of meaning for that matter—in all things so that you may observe their true nature. If you are needing help with that sort of thing, here are three shows whose indulgence will grant you a credibility more profound than Facebook comments about you, musical revelations by me or opaque references to the nature of the void by them.
Ah, what the hell. Rather than attempt some sort of contrived musical credibility by pointing to the lush and opaque mystery that is The Residents’ early work, I'm going to end up telling you to give up trying to find meaning—or a semblance of meaning for that matter—in all things so that you may observe their true nature. If you are needing help with that sort of thing, here are three shows whose indulgence will grant you a credibility more profound than Facebook comments about you, musical revelations by me or opaque references to the nature of the void by them. In other words, put that stuff from the Cryptic Corporation away and get out into what people are beginning to refer to as the real world.
The Residents: “Part II: The Making of a Soul”
Courtesy of the Artist
On Friday, Feb. 24, I am urging members of the only extant race of bipedal vertebrates on this planet to put down what they are doing (unless that means safeguarding our nation's nuclear heritage or keeping the interwebz up and running) and head on up to Santa Fe, our glorious capital city, for a concert by bass virtuoso and loop master James Whiton.It's no secret by now that Whiton is playing a gig at Meow Wolf (1352 Rufina) to celebrate the release of his new album, Perchance to Dream. He is being supported in this effort by legendary and soon to be long gone Burqueño experimental metal outfit Leeches of Lore. The whole shebang is an event sponsored by masters of the avant-garde Meow Wolf as well as local arbiters of cultural excellence, Weekly Alibi. Whiton is an ace on the bass and uses classical, rock and jazz techniques combined with a knowing musicality to express deep ruminations and cryptic celebrations of what it means to be human. His new album, produced by the wizards at Cinder Cone Records, is an edgy reflection of an important musical force in these parts. Though we here at Weekly Alibi have a horse in this race, it is important to note that Whiton's scorching awesomeness is not to be trifled with; missing this show means listing yourself as seriously out of the loop. Tickets are $10 and Whiton makes his conquering ostinatos manifest at 9pm.
JBOT, otherwise and in freer times known as Jay Vance, was a ‘90s rocker who decided to create his own robotic backing band. The thing was, drugs got involved, the robots achieved consciousness and JBOT was made into a subservient example of how rocanrol is just one example of a realm ultimately, reliably and rockingly run by robots. Captured! By Robots is the name of the band, okay? And the robots—by the way—are named DRMBOT 0110 and GTRBOT 666 . And these are not just alternative facts. And if you want to see and hear for yourself that what I told you a couple of sentences ago is more than a far-flung rocanrol fantasy, then show up to Sister (407 Central NW) on Saturday, Feb. 25, where for merely 10 bones, you can get a taste of what our future mechanical overlords have in mind. Plus, you can for damn sure check out the opening act, ICUMDRUMS, the project of Kris Kerby, who is one of the best, most evil drummers in town, for crissakes! All of this intense metallic, rhythmic deviltry begins at 9pm, by your command.
For all the talk about how Burque is becoming a town that knowingly, gloriously and ultimately gives it up for hip-hop, EDM and Americana, all it takes is one really heavy fucking metal show for the town's true colors—in this case atramentous, sombre and notably, sludgily starless—to come clear. If such was not the case at the recent Alcest/The Body/Creepers show, then another occult opportunity will arise on Tuesday, Feb. 28, when Deafheaven visits our mysteriously dark and cavernous neighbor, Sister (407 Central NW). A quintet outta northern Califas, Deafheaven has consistently pushed sonic and genre-based boundaries while still sounding like something one might hear on the elevators between the fifth and sixth circles of hell. If you like dream-time music meant for gazing at stationary objects like shoes, flowerpots or snare drums then you'll dig Deafheaven. Moreover, if you're one of those moved by monolithic, post-rock riffs, a juggernaut of a rhythm section and/or vocals that mirror the cruel conditions of existence humankind continues to bear, then damn, kid check out Deafheaven before we all get rounded by jack-booted thugs hellbent on saving us all from Satan's power. Or something like that. San Marcos, Texas post-rockers This Will Destroy You provide support; stygian songstress (and David Lynch acolyte) Emma Ruth Rundle opens. It's only $18 for this 21+ show, so run don't walk. It begins at 8pm.