The Soft Parade has now begun/ Listen to the engines hum/ People out to have some fun/ A cobra on my left/ Leopard on my right/ The deer woman in a silk dress/ Girls with beads around their necks/ Kiss the hunter of the green vest/ Who has wrestled before/ With lions in the night/ Out of sight!/ The lights are getting brighter/ The radio is moaning/ Calling to the dogs/ There are still a few animals/ Left out in the yard/ But it's getting harder/ To describe sailors/ To the underfed/ Tropic corridor/ Tropic treasure/ What got us this far/ To this mild equator?/ We need someone or something new/ Something else to get us through...— “The Soft Parade,” by Jim Morrison
The middle of winter is like a soft parade; diffuse and difficult. It can also seem lengthy yet loud because one of the places we all take sanctuary in during these discomfiting months is in music. With a potentially disruptive and for-certain shocking inauguration trailing the release of this issue of Weekly Alibi by one one short day, I think it's totally time to get it unraveled through sound; Morrison wrote that the two other ways to freedom were through sleep and travel, but with this week's awesome concert line-up in mind, I hope you choose auditory asylum instead.
The Doors: “The Soft Parade”
Wriggle on out of your wintry hibernation capsule on Thursday, Jan. 19, in preparation for the presumably portentous party to be held the following day in our nation's capital. While you're up and around, traipse on down to Launchpad (618 Central SW) that same evening for a concert by upper Midwest hip-hop marvel Prof. Jacob Anderson, as he is known IRL, is responsible for putting Minnesota on the map of hip-hop nation and has a style that combines the comedically scandalous affectations of Ol’ Dirty Bastard with the seriously skewed yet incisive confessionalism and long-winded, blank-verse tendencies of fellow midwesterner Eminem. While most of his output is patently offensive and louche, his approach to production, including instrumental quirks and sly rhythmic conceits, make for a musical effect that joyfully overlooks national tragedy while imbuing a lost generation of Americans with the same sort of quasi-gravitas that won this year's presidential election. This all-ages vision of the essence of middle-America will cost concert-goers $15; doors are at 7pm and the gig goes down at 8pm.
Back in my dissolute youth, there was nothing I liked better than ambling down to this local venue or that for a gander at Beefcake in Chains, a miasma of mad music and definitive debauchery conceived of and executed by long-time Burque punk rock king Stephen Eiland. Eiland brought it at every show he did, producing low-brow illumination through blistering beats, provocative playing, fetishistic nudity and an affinity for finding memorable melodies in the midst of all those disparate performance aspects. Eiland and his revisioned, revamped version of Beefcake will perform as part of SUBCLUB, at Burt's Tiki Lounge (515 Central NW) on Friday, Jan. 20. Eiland told Weekly Alibi that he and his band will “achieve a new level of lows” at Friday's concert. Along with fellow performers Holly Rebelle, DJ Gruebot, DJ Randori and a special S&M interlude by the Mistresses of the Dark, he should have no problem whatsoever recreating Sodom and Gomorrah at the new Tiki Lounge location, starting at 9pm. Promoter Phillip Pino says this 21+ gig was going to run $5, but now it will be free, for crissakes! Just don't look back when you leave, I'd hate to be the one to have to text your parents to tell them you've been turned into a pillar of salt.
I'll admit, I still listen to FM radio. A lot. Like when I'm driving around town or trying to get some shut-eye at five in the morning. And whenever “(Don't Fear) the Reaper” by Blue Öyster Cult slithers out of the loudspeakers in my car or home office, I change the channel. I like the song fine, but because it's been so overplayed in the last hundred thousand years, I reckon that I just can't take the tune's cow bell-laced, thanatos-loving proclamations anymore. On the other hand, on the very rare occasions when I'm graced with a broadcast version of “Black Blade” by the same band, I crank it up to 11 and sit back to listen to one of the best metal songs ever. It's no surprise that legendary sci-fi writer Michael Moorcock helped write the lyrics to this and a couple of other of BÖC's finest tunes. Burqueños will get a chance to decide which side of the band's proclivities—radio friendly or obscurantist—they fall upon when BÖC invades Isleta Resort and Casino (11000 Broadway SE) on Friday, Jan. 20. Tickets range in price from $20-25 for this 21+ rock recital. What the hell, for that kinda price you might as well be there when the dudes in the band break out freakin' “Godzilla” while admonishing you not to fear death because it's so damn cool.
On Saturday, Jan. 21, post-inauguration, get ready to party like it’s the end of the world—which it probably isn't but you certainly may feel that way after attending the previous three concerts mentioned in this week's eschatologically-minded column—at The Big Spank show that's happening over at Launchpad (618 Central SW). With a big brassy sound, upbeat tempos and ultra-friendly band members jamming out just for fun (Mike Garcia, Javier Sandoval, Chris Tickner, Retzen, and Bert Lujan), the Spank's musical mastery of a necessarily happy and profound sound will help get you in tune with the super sound of ska. And because they're further flavored with Latin influences and reggae rhythms, The Big Spank is just the thing you'll need to help you find solace in the age of the Big Cheeto. Marujah, The Riddims and Good Green provide support beginning at 8pm. (21+)
Take a break from purely American concerns like those mentioned above and throughout this week's lamentable iteration of “Show Up!” by indulging in some Euro-rock courtesy of Sister (407 Central NW) via an outing with avant-garde blasters Marching Church. The Copenhagen-based ensemble will make an appearance on Sunday, Jan. 22. Featuring a percussively soulful sound guided by the darkly evocative vocals of band founder Elias Bender Rønnenfelt, Marching Church feels like winter on the verge of spring, icy with moments of blue clarity and imagined warmth. They also sorta sound like Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds or The The, in case you wanna know my take on these things. I also like the way Rønnenfelt and company throw around keyboard and vocal bits blithely, almost casually as they meander through tuneage like “Up for Days” or “Heart of Life,” from their latest recording, Telling It Like It Is. Bernardino Femminielli and Euth Group open. Marching over to Sister for this program of dusky dreams and airy awakenings will entail paying $10 for admission to a 21+ evening of European excellence that rises, chant-like, from the winter night starting at 8pm.
Listen: If all the suggested diversions listed lovingly above fail to assuage or otherwise ameliorate your asylum from the Trump-tentacled storm to that’s bound to come, go ahead and follow Jimbo’s advice, from the same song. You have this reporter’s permission. The words go something like this:
When all else fails/ We can whip the horse's eyes/ And make them sleep/ And cry.