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Showing posts sorted by relevance for query "the nolan factor". Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query "the nolan factor". Sort by date Show all posts

3/23/09

The Nolan Factor - Monday March 23nd 2009

Jeff Nolan - one of MCB's longest contributors will be dropping a few posts from time to time about music / art / state of the economy / women / food / car repair / laundry tips
"The Nolan Factor"

FRIDAY
MARCH 20
Luna Lounge

Charlie Slick was a few songs into his set when I arrived at Luna. By this time he was shirtless and covered in glitter, marching back and forth on the stage microphone in hand. Epileptic LED light bars surrounded the rear portion of the stage making Charlie look like a fully decked out Christmas tree. Mr. Slick was performing without his longtime light box operator Andy Grabrysiak, and was without his trademark white light boxes entirely, opting instead for the schizophrenic electronic strobes. He began to throw glitter onto the audience and moved onto the dance floor to perform in middle of the crowd. An anorexic girl with highlights and skin-tight zebra pants wobbled back and forth with her boyfriend in a striped shirt.

The highlight of his performance came when Charlie began to swing his synthesizer over his head and played a song with his synthesizer held in the air over the dance floor. At the end of his set Charlie invited the crowd onto the stage with him and then slowed the beat down until everyone was seated on the stage, covered in sparkly silver glitter out of a handheld shaker that was finally hurled against the ceiling and ricocheted across Luna.
Someone within earshot said "Now thats a pile of douchebags!"
Looking around we discovered who it was
Charlie's old roommate was sitting next to us
and obviously never got his deposit back or something

The headline band of the evening was a band called the Plastic Shapes. They were more or less a cookie-cutter electronic band with a guitarist who played a flying-V guitar. The guitarist was very enthusiastic, striking poses like Eddie Van Halen and tapping the frets at every possible moment. The drums were a unique mix of electronic beats and live-drumming that interlaced seamlessly. Monotone dance beats and hair metal guitar riffs populated all songs.

The best show of the evening for us was the Champions of Breakfast,
although I arrived fashionably late, sadly after they played missing the show

SATURDAY
MARCH 21
Small's Bar


Mild Cartoon Violence began the evening with a set of early nineties-influenced ska music, at one point even covering a Sublime song. A tight, clean guitar chirped over thick, melodic bass-lines. Danceable drum beats and cheery vocals filled out the rest of their sound. I quite enjoyed their mushroom cuts and extreme enthusiasm to be playing, it didn't matter that at this point most of the attendees were still milling around the bar and pretending there was no band on stage.

Near the end of the set I wandered into the bathroom to find Bryan Metro of Jesus Chainsaw Massacre painting his face blue in the mirror, then his legs, then his torso, and finally his arms.
I watched him do this while he babbled about a Flatliners spin-off in which he was cast to play the assistant, but was told his teeth were too jacked.

Charging onto the stage after the soundcheck was the shirtless blue man I had encountered in the restroom. “I work for the government, and I left my Hustler magazine in the particle room- look at me now!” he declared before launching into a spectacle of a show in which he levitated a cinder block with his mind, lip-synched to an i-Pod, put a bucket over his head, and demonstrated his ability to do four push-ups in a row.

Dirty lo-fi guitar and beats generated by a 20 year-old Casio keyboard were the backing to Bryan Metro's karaoke voice and self-aggrandizing testimonials. By the end of the set he was dodging glow sticks and polyethylene Hawaiian lays thrown by the audience. He then danced off the stage, soon to be followed by his one-man band, who first smashed his empty beer bottle on the floor, threw his guitar against his amp to ringing feedback, and yelled thanks threw a broken microphone. This is rock and roll.

Almost Free followed, the show was organized by them to promote the release of their new album, Modern Mistakes. I had encountered the singer's father earlier in the night “He's a great boy!” was his claim. The band's sound was something between the Ventures' surf rock melodies and Sonic Youth's noisy droning non-chords. Added to this were ghostly vocals that were nearly empty of any discernible emotion. The show was powerful and provocative, standing on the edge of being dark and brooding, yet it couldn't really be described as such.


SUNDAY
MARCH 22
Crofoot Ballroom


I'm lost as I wonder where to start with this show... The first thing I saw when I entered the Crofoot and was trying to figure out why I wasn't on the list was a girl collapse on the floor next to the elevator. She was clearly on something, but what exactly I could not determine with any accuracy, and it seemed as though the paramedics who picked her up off the street were just as puzzled. Next, an asian kid dressed all in black threw up next to the guy taking tickets.
This was before I even made it onto the floor.
Surely we missed at least 5 other notable moments while I was stuck at the door until they figured out the list problem and in we went without further delay.

Next I was pleased to discover that Ratatat was kind enough to speak to just three members of the press, pre-approved by their tour manager, myself not included.
Photographers were limited to pictures without flashes, for the first three songs only.

Once they took the stage I was pleased to see that there was a huge video and elaborate flashing light show that accompanied their set. An array of drums, keyboards, blinding LEDs, lasers, and smoke machines lined all sides of the stage.
The bass was more powerful than the voice of God,
the guitar had a perfect tone that was neither distorted nor clean, and the beats were all precisely timed. The bassist occasionally pretended to play electronic drums that didn't made a sound,
and occasionally spit on the crowd.

The video that they projected was at times curiously similar to (nearly a direct copy of) Dan Deacon and Jimmy Joe-Roche's Ultimate Reality, a remix of Arnold Schwarzenegger films in psychedelic rainbow technicolor, designs by The Sweet Smelling Surfaces,
and the screensavers on my parent's old PC.

The music was tight and identical to the sound on the albums, which is to be expected when the music is prerecorded. The crowd showed tremendous enthusiasm and did not stop moving up and down, even when the music stopped. People were carried on the hands of the audience all over the floor and deposited into the waiting arms of the bouncers on stage all night. The aftermath of the show was impressive: a dance floor littered with smashed cups, articles of clothing, and aluminum confetti,
and a bathroom dripping in all bodily fluids imaginable.

"THE NOLAN FACTOR IS DETROIT"
Check out more MCB-VIDEOs here

5/5/09

The Nolan Factor - Tuesday May 5th 2009

JeffNolan - one of MCB's longtime contributors will be dropping a few posts from time to time about music / art / state of the economy / women / food / car repair / laundry tips

"The Nolan Factor"

I don't know if there is anyone left to read my column here on Motorcityblog.net now that the population has been ravaged by the Swine Flu epidemic. I have yet to get it, but its probably just a matter of time. Oh, wait- that's right, as of the time of this writing there have been around 300 people in the US of A (population 300 million) who have actually gotten it.
If my math is correct, and it is, that works out to about one in a fucking million people. It is difficult to find any consistent numbers of deaths contributed to the Swine Flu epidemic, but here in the states it seems to be under a dozen. Assuming ten people stateside have died from it thus far, thats something like 1 in 30 million people.
In the time that it has taken you to read this I'm sure hundreds of people have died, been born, fortunes lost and gained, eaten by sharks, monster truck rallies, state fairs, dogs with funny hats- nothing could be less interesting than the Swine Flu, yet for some reason you cannot escape it. Turn on the TV, the radio, log into Facespace, read my column- and there it is- Swine Flu, everywhere.

My mother is a middle school teacher and evidently a student in the high school was diagnosed with flu like symptoms- everyone panic, it could be the Swine Flu! The student is at home while s/he is under the weather, so no big deal, right? WRONG- all students sent home, entire district closed for a week, school grounds quarantined and disinfected by guys in haz-mat suits. Has the whole world gone crazy!? You can make up your own mind, but I would say yes.

SATURDAY
MAY 2 2009
Jesus Chainsaw Massacre wsg the Electric Lions
@ Izzy's Raw Art Gallery

Perhaps I could seek some refuge from the Swine Flu Terror with a nice peaceful rock and roll show at Izzy's in Corktown, so far off the beaten path that you almost need binoculars on a rooftop to see the psychotic flashing lights on the side of the Motorcity Casino.
Wrong again- but I'll get to that in a minute.

Congratulations to the guy who won the one-of-a-kind original mixtape (a $500 value!), an avid reader of the blog. I had a brief conversation with this magnificent specimen of blog readership about Prodigy while being eyeballed by two scary looking dudes wearing Black Label Society (blacklabelsociety.com) jackets who kept talking about Black Label Beer (http://beeradvocate.com/beer/profile/447/1325 ). I was confused too.

There were several thirty packs carted into the basement of Izzy's before the show began. The space was littered with empties by the time that DJ Johnny Retro stopped his tables for the Electric Lions' set. The Electric Lions (myspace.com/theelectriclions) are a five-piece jam band with a sound that was something between the Mars Volta and local rockers the Muggs. Lead guitars in stereo (heavily distored, wah-wahed, phased, flanged, pitch-shifted, you name it) cried back and forth over a heavy bass line and spacey keyboard lines. A mohawked blonde drummer who told a number of extremely offensive jokes outside before the set put down a steady yet generic drum line that held the noise together. The set meandered from one heavy mood to another before ending in a crescendo of absolutely deafening feedback.

At this point I took over as DJ while JR and Brian Metro plugged in. Evidently I am a DJ now. The show began with an electronic beat accompanied by a long squeal from the guitar. Then it struck- the Swine Flu! The singer emerged from the shadows wearing what could only be described as a nurses' outfit, complete with a particle mask. Over the beat and a dirty blues riff he shouted out a long monologue about the word of the day. The small crowd circled right up around the band as they sloshed through their *Detroit Music Award Winning* set. Brian Metro removed his shirt as per usual, then his pants as per usual. Along the elastic band of his underwear was strung about a pound of raw bacon strips, in honor of Swine Flu. The show ended with Mr. Metro playing air/bacon guitar from his crotch, slapping the bacon strips on an unused guitar and knocking over half full cans of beer.


The Greycoats
Setting Fire to the Great Unknown
*** 1/2 out of 5
www.greycoats.net

The Greycoats first full length LP is an alt-pop medley in the vein of U2, Coldplay, and Radiohead. This Minneapolis band present an aptly titled album that seems to be channelling the endless grey skies and piles of cold wet stuff that the citizens of Minneapolis are all too familiar with. A stormy backdrop of shimmering guitars and a stomping rhythm section accompanied by a tinkling Rhodes organ sets the restless mood for the crooning vocals. While this has a definite feel of nostalgia, or rather 'I think I've heard this already' to this listener, it is surely a polished and competent work. It is at times so similar to brit rockers Radiohead that it feels more like B-sides from OK Computer or the Bends than some band from the midwest. That similarity aside, it is a very listenable album, good for a long drive through the rain or waiting out the long Michigan winter.

Cage the Elephant
self titled release
**** out of 5
www.cagetheelephant.com

An uber catchy LP with a unique mix of blues hooks, hard-hitting slide guitars, and raw howls over beats that beg to be danced to. It picks up about where the Whitestripes left off in terms of their heavy sound and well crafted songs. Its not quite fair to categorize this group so narrowly though, their new album uses an eclectic blend of sounds that are inspired from several genres and groups, oft changing drums that run the gamut from dance beats to fast paced african rhythms. The energetic vocals take queues from the seldom remembered one-hit-wonders JET, obnoxious rockers Buckcherry, and something similar to of the Red Hot Chili Peppers' Anthony Kiedis. The whole CD is unpredictable from one track to the next, overflowing with infectious hooks, sticky distorted guitar riffs, and clever songwriting.

"The Nolan Factor IS DETROIT"
Check out more MCB-VIDEOs here

4/20/09

The Nolan Factor - Tuesday April 21st 2009

Jeff Nolan - one of MCB's longtime contributors will be dropping a few posts from time to time about music / art / state of the economy / women / food / car repair / laundry tips

"The Nolan Factor"

THURSDAY
April 16 2009
Karaoke Night @ The Inn Place

A fat old man named Red greeted my girl and I at the bar
as we cringed through a drunken, slurred Bjork song (www.dailymotion.com/video/x1jcto_bjork-its-oh-so-quiet_music).
The vodka tonics from the bar were a tad on the weak side, but it matched the talent if you're picking up what I'm putting down. The bartender's nightly rendition of Janis Joplin's “Piece of My Heart” was possibly the pinnacle of the evening, met with screams and hollers from her intoxicated patrons. After 1 the mood became overly sentimental with a chain of whiny, slow country songs, so we moved on to bigger
and better things: my bedroom...

FRIDAY
April 17 2009
Dinner with Rick & Sue Vian

To celebrate his recent successful opening at my place of employment, the Robert Kidd Gallery (robertkiddgallery.com) in Birmingham, Rick Vian (rickvian.com) and his wife Sue invited myself and a few guests to a dinner at their house located just outside of downtown Royal Oak. The food was wonderful, a diverse mix of flavors from all over Europe.
The best part was a banana and pineapple cake
which I still have a piece of in my refrigerator.

Their house exterior is painted an strange rusty purple color which is neither warm nor cool. It was inspired, like his paintings, by the Michigan UP. The yard was decorated with smooth basalt stones plucked from lake superior, wind chimes that were rigged to be silent, and elegant metal sculptures that would probably be lethal if you fell on them.
The interior of the house was beautifully decorated with pieces from several Cass Corridor artists, obtained over the years through art trades with friends and colleagues. The bedroom was the most outlandishly decorated room in the house. The walls and blinds were completely covered with green paint strokes and resembled a canopy of tree leaves, tapering around the ceiling to reveal a pale blue sky.
Rick said he did it while his wife Sue was away for a week.

I left Rick and Sue's house around 11 and planned to catch the end of the Art Battle and maybe ask how badly my boys in the Jesus Chainsaw Massacre did at the Detroit Music Awards. Ha.
On the way home I listened to a sarcastic voicemail
from Johnny Retro of JCM,
“Hey dude, we're hanging out in front because we're fucking winners,
we'll be down at the Fillmore for a minute...”
The message was left before the start of the event, eluding to the fact that JCM was hopelessly up for Outstanding Electronic Dance Band against Deastro, Love Meets Lust, and Matthew Dear.
During a brief rendezvous at my house to meet up with two girls, I received a phone call.
No shit- the Jesus Chainsaw Massacre won.

The rest of the night was mostly a bust, zig-zagging from bar to bar in Hamtramck and then arriving at the Russell just in time to see the aftermath of the wreckage that was the Art Battle.
I asked who won the DAB09
“Some kids from Grand Rapids, I don't know them”
was the best answer I could get.

SATURDAY
April 18 2009
Comet Burger, Gusoline Alley, & Woody's

After hearing about the phenomenally unlikely selection of the Jesus Chainsaw Massacre for a DMA, I made plans to hang out with them and get the low down on just what the hell happened.
We met at Comet Burger in Royal Oak for some soggy burgers and devilish waffle fries before hitting some bars. What followed was a hazy recollection of meeting with the Amboy Dukes (possibly) in a maze of corridors and rooms that is the Fillmore backstage. A dim room lined with sofas, a grey haired man sunk into a corner with a grey haired lady giving him a semi-nude lap dance.
Vomiting on the floor next to the table,
then stumbling to the bathroom and sleeping
in a stall before closing out a $100 bar tab.
Finally, their accidental theft of a backpack
filled with unidentified pills and paper work.
“You don't have any time to sort out the duds” was the rational behind sampling a handful...
After leaving the hit-or-miss Gusoline alley (too many guys in cargo shorts, not enough seating)
a text message was received from the other half of JCM who was
spending his night in a strip club with his 15 pound DMA,
trying to convince strippers he was someone important: an award winning musician.
I don't think it went well after he sent another incoherent message
about trying to convince a stripper to swallow a length of rope.

Woody's was an abomination of tiny women in jerseys, dude-bro's (://dudebro.urbanup.com/1566366), and overly dressed dancers who started moving to the beat on the walk in.
A few laughs, a few High Life's and we were out of there.

Robyn Hitchcock & The Venus 3
Goodnight Oslo
myspace.com/robynhitchcock

If Lou Reed and those two brothers in Oasis who fight onstage had a 40 year old child who became the vocalist for the Smiths, his band would be Robyn Hitchcock & The Venus 3.
Sarcastic, rainy day pop music with a British invasion flare. Other tracks have a similarity to the Kinks and MGMT, but with the same pop sensibility as the Beatles.
Goodnight Oslo is overflowing with pop hooks, tried and true verse-chorus-verse formulaic tracks that hit the mark. Competent songwriting is matched by the sparkly clean production. It harks back to the production value of the Elephant Six Collective of the nineties with their penchant for horns, sterilized acoustic guitars, and pop arrangements.

Spiral Beach
Ball
spiralbeach.com

Spiral Beach is a young band of hooligans hailing from Toronto. Primarily fronted by a female vocalist (named Maddy Wilde!) on keys/synth supported by four unshowered boys who sing in unison. They have an overall sound similar to Joydrop or Garbage from the 1990's with the dance beats of the Black Kids. They show a surprising sophistication in terms of their tones and arrangements with floating vocal melodies that intertwine over reverberating guitars.
The overall production value of the album is fantastically professional and finished, the album artwork is clearly produced by an art studio and the cleanliness of the sound could only be the work of a seasoned vet. These kids clearly have it going on.
Their website shows an impressive “Showography” (I had never heard of this term either) of tours which demonstrate that they have somehow criss-crossed the planet while making the time to write and record a very polished and mature album.

John Doe and the Sadies
Country Club
myspace.com/johndoeandthesadies

This is a country/blue grass album from LA. LA holds the Guiness World Record for shortest abbreviated word (originally titled El Pueblo de Nuestra Señora la Reina de los Ángeles de la Porciúncula by Felipe de Neve, which translates to The Village of Our Lady, the Queen of the Angels of Porziuncola). With that out of the way, Country Club is anything you could hope for in a country album: imagine trains, your momma bailing you out of jail, your dog running away, coffee & cigarettes, rainy days, getting drunk on whiskey and arrested after hitting a parked car, and the current war against Saddam or the Muslims or whoever we're supposed to hate (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Power_of_Nightmares).
I am not a country music aficionado, but according to the band's myspace, Country Club consists of “classic country covers” as well as original material. A song titled Detroit City hit a sentimental note with me, it is a mopey ballad about going home to Detroit.
The album is laced with country hooks, fiddles, and steel guitar, as any good country album should be. It is a country album that goes back to the golden mid century, an authentic and uncommercial country sound that is refreshing after spending 3 years working in a metal shop where 99.5 FM was the standard.

"The Nolan Factor IS DETROIT"
Check out more MCB-VIDEOs here

5/13/09

The Nolan Factor - May 13th 2009



JeffNolan - one of MCB's longtime contributors will be dropping a few posts from time to time about music / art / state of the economy / women / food / car repair / laundry tips
"The Nolan Factor"

WEDNESDAY
MAY 6 2009
Cursive/Man Man @ the Magic Stick

My girlfriend met Jamie (aka Critter Cat... I guess) of Man Man about eleven years ago on AOL instant messenger, and he has evidently been looking forward to the day that they would meet ever since. Hurray for technology, using our combined internetting skills we were able to set up just such a meeting at Man Man's show on Wednesday. We walked in as Man Man was beginning their set of crazy stage antics, dancing to bird calls, forcing non-instruments into making music, and general unorthodox everything. Heavy rhythms set by a maniacal drummer and matched by a churning piano and a slew of bizarre noises.

We sipped vodka tonics and sat near the rear of the dance floor as I was less interested in seeing Man Man for a third or fourth time and more interested in meeting them. I could feel the floor shaking from the frantic dancing happening in front of the stage, a fairly rare occurrence at the Magic Stick. The madness on stage was on par with the handful of other times I had seen them, including such antics as pouring a bottle of water into a wooden bowl held next to a microphone, a muffler somehow miked and used as a snare, and running back and forth to a table piled with eclectic instruments.

Man Man's set ended and my girlfriend wandered around to the back of the stage to chat it up, I was distracted by fellow Motorcityblogger and photographer Amy Palomar and also by a former roommate who was quite upset about a rumor that I had started about myself. After about thirty minutes standing around the new pavilion thing that was built off of the dance floor I wandered to the backstage. In the tiny blue room behind the stage I found my girlfriend seated between two completely smashed girls, one who claimed to be from some southern state I don't like and another who had a tattoo of a child's drawing on her leg. The room was littered in half drank bottles of whiskey, about fifty beer bottles, two or three coolers filled with fresh brews, and an odor of various smoked substances. Critter Cat was desperately trying to mack on my lady friend, but also trying to give me some good info to blog about.


(All I got was that they were making enough money to pay the rent and that he also likes Giorgio Moroder (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Giorgio_Moroder )

I missed Cursive's show for the most part, but the southern bell wandered onto the stage toward the end and was quickly pulled off by the singer of Man Man.

Afterwards we hung around the Garden Bowl bar for a few minutes while the bands packed up their equipment where we met a trio of double dude-bros who were very excited for the show they had witnessed. One is in a band that I promised to mention called Ten Ton Diesel Head (myspace.com/tentondieselhead) who has a new album coming out soon, their first in nearly six years.


THURSDAY
MAY 7 2009
The Kills @ the Magic Stick


Johnny Retro from everyone's favorite band the Jesus Chainsaw Massacre invited me to attend the Kills and go out for some drinks afterwards. I didn't go.


SATURDAY
MAY 9 2009
Rock & Rummage @ the Belmont


We here at Motorcityblog had a booth at the latest installment of Rock & Rummage, and thanks to everyone who attended and supported the local vendors of avant-guarde swag and doo-dads. We had a free raffle where we gave away tickets to Gogol Bordello, Prodigy, and Blue October to name a few. We also had some swag of our own including some rad T's designed by yours truly, buttons, pins, and a load of stickers. A brief conversation with Casey, the mind behind the madness, reveled that he has done this over 400 times in about 5 years!


It was a fun night of tiny green beers
Everlasting Gobstoppers, and general Rocking and Rummaging.

Andy Shauf
Darker Days
*** out of 5
www.myspace.com/andyshauf

The newest offering from Canadian artist Andy Shauf is a soft and reflective album of mellow folk music. Most tracks feature a quietly picked accoustic guitar, Andy's warm honey voice and maybe a tamborine to keep the beat. There is a definite similarity to the freak-folk-artist-turned-Christian-Jesus-touting singer/songwriter M. Ward. Twangy suburban folk music with floating, flourishing guitars and oooohs and aaaaahs chirping occasionally in the background. It is not necessarily a sad album, but I don't think that it could rightfully be called a happy album by any means. Darker Days treads a fine line between up and down, it could maybe be described as capturing the same vibe as Harold & Maude. The album gives off a vague reminiscence to sitting in the sun or falling asleep in a field or waking up a hour before your alarm goes off.

"The Nolan Factor IS DETROIT"
Check out more MCB-VIDEOs here

3/4/10

Nolan Factor 3/4/2010



The Nolan Factor

by The Real Jeff Nolan


March 4, 2010


Its Blowout time again and what could be less rock and roll than the Metrotimes' shameless pandering and self-indugent self-promotion during an event that has little to nothing to do with the Metrotimes other than the name. While I and everyone else will enjoy the "Hamtramck" Blowout, after poking through the most recent edition of MT I was left wondering what those indie-newspaper fruitcakes really have to do with it outside of throwing money at the three day event and plastering their name all over it.


I will be waiting for next week when Real Detroit Weekly sums up the highlights that I may have missed, and besides, I like Jeff Milo better than the cat-hugging old lady who does music for the 'Times. Maybe I am being too harsh, I mean how much integrity can be expected from a publication mostly supported by advertisements for prostitutes? On the other hand though, aside from Savage Love, both papers kind of suck.


Haute To Death


The last time I attended Haute To Death at the seedy Temple Bar, located in the Crack Cocaine district, I think it was "Boss & Secretary Edition," meaning that the sweaty hipsters were dressed less ab-fab glamour and more ab-fab business... or something like that. I really just remember flash-bulbs and disco-dancing on broken glass, but what more could you want? I drove with my friend Jesse, who was on LSD, and we made a hasty escape around the time that the crunching glass was brought to his attention.


Alpine Meadow

Org Contemporary

debtcollective.com/org.htm


On February 2nd I stood in a bright white room staring at sloppy cakes on pedastals in the Org Contemporary gallery, located in the pile of broken bricks and chipped paint affectionately referred to as the Russell Industrial Center. The whole event was rather confusing, as I could not recall the precise location of the space and was side-tracked by a number of other exhibitions, notably a video piece down the hall by former Sex Ghost front-woman Natasha. When I finally meandered my way into the gallery the front room confronted me with the most interesting piece, a cake teetering halfway off of its stand.


The rest of the cakes, some lopsided or toppled, others upright, struck me as half-assed. There was an arbitrary, art-speakish statement on the wall that I mostly didn't read and after looking around the room I quickly headed into the hall for a glass of wine. A brief conversation with a few random strangers outside of the gallery revealed the most interesting part of the show: that the artists were from Cornrow Rider from New York and with no money or transportation back and had used their only resource, food stamps, to fund the show. (A friend joked the other day that they are probably still sleeping in the gallery...)


 A quick glance around the room again and I saw a friend from the mountains of North Carolina eating the frosting off of a cake with a potato chip. It reminded me of the bathroom of the house that the members of Detroit band Blas é Splee once shared. It was a shocking, Barbie, day glow pink, but painted in the most horrible and sloppy manner, with no regard given to borders or mirrors. It was at first impression a murderous ruin, but then I learned the depraved story behind it: The previous tenant, who currently lives next door and attempts to buy roaches out of the ashtrays, had painted it with her fucking hands at 6 AM after unsuccessfully begging the neighbors for paint brushes.


 You can find Carl and the other members of Blas é at the Blowout, and they will invariably offer you a day-glow-pink copy of singles from their forthcoming album.


2/4/10

The Nolan Factor - 2/4/2010

The Nolan Factor
The Real Jeff Nolan


Rewind like three months:

MCB management secured a few high end tickets to attend/cover
an art / fundraiser event in detroit a few months back

I arrived to the Art Serve conference/meet and greet at the Max Fisher Music Center with an artist friend on an icy November evening.
We were majorly outclassed from the get go, and while we did look dapper, we were no match to the dense crowd of three piece suits and shimmering dresses. As we began to chat with the affluent mob around us, I bought a $9 vodka tonic to occupy my hands.

A room filled with elaborately decorated tables opened up after about an hour of confusing conversations with a handful of museum curators and theater directors to reveal a glowing pink stage and podium. The fifty or more tables were equipped with plates of fruit, truffles, coffee and softly glowing candles which made for an elegant ambiance. We strategically positioned ourselves at the corner of a table (they were round) located on the perimeter of the room to avoid drawing more attention to the fact that we were conspicuous to say the least.

The event was organized to introduce the Art Serve program to the contributing art patrons of Michigan which is scheduled to be the newest extension of the program, already active in about a half a dozen states.

Fast-forward to recently:

A group of artists and musicians have seized control of the former Scrummage Insurance agency, a towering relic of 20th century prosperity in Detroit. You may have seen the hulk of a building, covered last fall with a gigantic 9-story technicolor mural as part of a community arts program.

On January 30th North End Studios, dubbed Sparklewood for the evening, hosted a huge fundraiser event with dork-rockers Kirtybird & the Boogeymen and the Tour Detroit DJs. The showed seemed to be a great success for the finically strapped space as it was packed from 10 PM until 5 AM.
The interior of the main floor was covered in artwork from dozens of local graffiti artists, painters, and sculptors, as well as larger-than-life airport decor for the night. Throughout the night there were strange video projections by Anthony Cholag of everything from vintage exercise videos to wild animals copulating. The fundraiser event was the kickoff of a regular schedule of events to be held on the first and third Saturdays of each month, with special events and openings in between the regular dates. Shows to be announced include Marco Polio & the New Vaccines, Macrame Tiger, The Carridines, and the High Strung, with coordinating acts including the likes of videographers, burlesque dancers, fashion shows, and Haute 2 Death in the works for future shows.

The vibe of the new space is really great, it seems to fill a void that I hadn't realized existed.

Let me explain why no one should ever under any circumstances buy anything from the Family Dollar in Hamtramck. Monday, February 1st, 8:52 PM: I walked up to the entrance to buy some candy, I had made it just in time, as when I called I was told that their hours of operation ceased at 9 PM...

Upon entering the store I was greeted by a mean-spirited, unkempt, and seemingly intoxicated employee who claimed to be the store manager.

"Get out! We're closed!"


She said pointing to the door behind me.
"But it is only 8:52..." I said checking the time on my cellular telephone.
"Well, I close ten minutes early, so unless its just one thing, get out!"

"Fuck you! You're not getting my money and you will never see me again."

Was my retort. I faintly heard her profane shouts in plain earshot of offended and confused customers as the door swung behind me. For your reference, the Family Dollar to avoid is the one on Conant, just North of Caniff.

4/9/09

The Nolan Factor - April 9th 2009

Jeff Nolan - one of MCB's longtime contributors will be dropping a few posts from time to time about music / art / state of the economy / women / food / car repair / laundry tips

"The Nolan Factor"

FRIDAY April 3, 2009
Speck Mountain with Bloodbird @ The Berkley Front


I didn't bring a pen or a pad of paper to the show, so I borrowed a 005 Micron pen from a girl in front of the stage after buying two draft beers downstairs from the 40+ taps at the Berkley Front. I collected napkins as the group Bloodbird began their set. On the edge of the platform they had placed a large stick of incense and a small table lamp. The bass player feverishly chewed gum while rubbing out slow moving lines. Reverberating guitar chords and clean melodies were reminiscent of Sonic Youth's Murray Street album. The raspy vocals and occasionally lonely themes were provided by a bearded man with a shaved head.
After their set the singer and guitarist gave me a limited edition 12”
of their upcoming album, released only to vinyl.

By this point in the night the two people running the sound were drunk and having difficulties of all kinds setting up for the headlining band Speck Mountain. A few broken cables later, a spilled beer all over the singer's electrical devices, and a monitor that wouldn't stop screaming in my ear, Speck Mountain was finally ready to play.
They sounded like Ella Fitzgerald on LSD with an electric guitar.
Thick tribal drum beats supported ringing guitar chords and filagrees. A phasing keyboard w/operatic backing vocals set the tone and rhythms. Bluesy, soul inspired vocals were delivered by a dark haired girl who would fit more in her element at Woodstock than at the Berkley Front. During the set I kept thinking to myself that Speck Mountain would have been cutting edge in San Francisco the mid sixties if the entire audience were on mind altering substances.

SUNDAY April 5, 2009
Motorcity Rock Review @ The Magic Stick


The Friendly Foes, a band consisting of a doctor, a lawyer, and an indian chief, were performing when I arrived at the Stick. If you can imagine what that would sound like you probably have a fairly accurate idea of what their music is like.

After a few minutes mingling at the bar and scribbling on my new Motorcityblog notebook, the Silent Years took the main stage. Employing a strange mix of instruments for the rock music they produce drew my attention immediately. I hadn't witnessed the Silent Years for a year or two and evidently forgotten how tight they play, or maybe they weren't that good before. A female cellist and a bassist held down the deep low end, with a pop rock drummer keeping everything moving. The vocalist sang passionately through both a regular mic and a telephone receiver taped to a mic stand, running through a vocoder which provided am etherial mix of echoes and delays to the dynamic sound of the band. Over-driven low-pass filtered guitars and a penchant for Modest Mouse like pop melodies with a tough edge filled out the rest of their set. Very energetic and entertaining onstage with a constantly changing mix of sounds and instrumentation.
It won't likely be as long before I see them again.

The longtime Detroit band the Hentchmen were next up on a side-stage which had been erected in front of the soundboards. It was about the size of a kitchen, with just enough room for the band to stand while surrounded by their equipment. If you haven't heard the Hentchmen by now, you have seriously missed the boat when it comes to Detroit music, in fact you are at the wrong port, or more like no where near the water. It was strange to see two girls under the age of ten clamoring at the front of the stage to see the Hentchmen, strange enough just to see children in the Magic Stick. The keys were played to an amazing degree of skill through a red “Compact” Farfisa organ, embellished with a Polish design that looks like it was found in the Hamtramck Flea Market, held together with green clamps. With the keys on his right hand, the key/bass/singer has his left hand free to play the punk-inspired bass lines on a miniature Honer Bass-3 keyboard, which ran through a gigantic bass cabinet that looked as if it were a prop from Citizen Kane.

Any fears I may have had about the Hentchmen loosing some of their energy or grit in their old age were quickly squashed after they ran through a set of two minute tracks that blended from one to the next with no time to slow down. The small stage led to an unique stage act of stumbling over moniters, stretching and bending over the Farfisa, eventually reduced to stretching their legs on top of one another's gear.

I was distracted by the indian chief from the Friendly Foes during The Pop Project's set, but from what I gathered from the other side of the venue was that they had a sound somewhere between the Electric Light Orchestra and Neil Young.

They even played the theme from Step by Step...

The crowd was a weird mix all night. It consisted of men nearing senior citizen status, children here and there, underage short boys with their even shorter female counterparts, the occasional sophisto who looked lost, and about fifty 20-somethings who all looked like Hamtramck.

Deastro (pronounced: De as in deck, and stro as in Stroh's ice cream) capped the evening on the main stage. He took the stage with a pair of extremely oversized yellow sunglasses with blue lenses. A small card table covered in electrical devices, computer equipment, and blinking do-dads linked together with brightly colored cables adorned the center of the stage, flanked by sandwich boards covered in a disarray of magazine cutouts. His band consists of a guitarist, a bassist, and a drummer, all dressed like suburban kids in polo shirts.

His set was made out of his usual mix of Eurotrash dance beats, rock and roll guitar chords, and electronic noise. Spastic dance antics and an extremely energetic delivery. A tired and thinning crowd was encouraged to beat “Mark,” the man blamed for the lethargy of the audience at this point. After pleading with the audience

“Do you want to dance or do you want to be afraid?”

Deastro began another spaz-rock song and flung his parka of technicolor
felt balls into the rear of the dancers.

“I will never be afraid again because I am a Tiger!”

He next stole a red hat from a member of the crowd in the front and continued to dance like a man possessed before taunting the crowd

“You guys are pathetic.”

10/22/09

The Nolan Factor - Thursday October 22 2009


The Nolan Factor
The Real Jeff Nolan

Phonotropic Fridays at the Crofoot Pontiac

A most recent Phonotropic Friday was host
to a restrained and bedazzled Daniel Zott
With technicolor feathers woven into a mound of tangled hair, a circa 1988 Pistons sweatshirt, and an unshaven, sleepy look this man embodies the "freak folk" label. Performing solo with only an accoustic-electric and a macbook his sound could best be described as a stripped down version of every Radiohead song you've never heard. While that comparison may put too fine a point on his sound, there is not really a more fitting way to say it.

His performance was sharp enough to kill.
He took to the Vernor's room stage for nearly an hour of soulful verse-chorus-verse, eyes closed to the world, teetering behind a microphone. In my crusade to meet every other friendly weirdo in the metro-Detroit area I was naturally inclined to have a beer with this Daniel Zott guy. My glazed-over, mumbly introduction was returned with an ear to ear smile and a pat on the arm. A brief convo about music, art, and Detroit followed (the only three things I talk about) while I gawked at his fabulous hair. A minute later he was sure to run up to me with a couple of CDs and contact info.
Gee-whiz golly, if all musicians were so nice
maybe that free copy of the Friendly Foes
wouldn't have ended up on the side of I-75...

For all of the free CDs I am given, a slim minority meet my discriminating taste. After listening to his album a few times and playing through those of his band, the Great Fiction, revealed intricate progressions, a clean aesthetic, and impeccable recording. One of the LPs came with a DVD that contained mostly live footage, expertly miked and shot from several angles, as well as brief interviews and a series of recording sessions.

Digesting the recorded materials altered my initial "Radiohead" assessment of the music. There are clearly a wide variety of influences that lie well beyond the scope of that high-grossing UK import. A parallel can also be drawn to Avey Tare's pet projects Animal Collective and Panda Bear in the sense that there is a driving rhythm or melody that can be found in the ambience.
Its the kind of stuff that the stoners who play acoustics in Ann Arbor wish they were playing.
My usual exploits, escapades, and self-aggrandizing dribble are being omitted from my semi-regular rambling column this time around.
Rest assured my last month in the most dangerous city in the US of A
involved my car catching fire, my iPod disappearing in Hamtramck,
and about $900 in traffic violations.
Photo by Shaun Feliciano

The Nolan Factor

4/14/09

The Nolan Factor - Tuesday April 14th 2009

Jeff Nolan - one of MCB's longtime contributors will be dropping a few posts from time to time about music / art / state of the economy / women / food / car repair / laundry tips

"The Nolan Factor"

WEDNESDAY
APRIL 8 2009

Open Dance Floor Night @ LUNA

I'm not sure how I ever end up at Luna, but I do, this time with Carl Larson of Blasé Splee (blasesplee.com) and Marie Williams of Snaxx (myspace.com/snaxxdeluxe). As expected there was a crowd of drunks around the bar area ogling the fishnet clad bartenders and clamoring over the $2 drink specials. We each bough an arms full of drinks before the price went back up and wandered to the tables next to the dance floor to watch other drunks try to dance with one another.
Bust!
Who would of thought that the allegedly “Best Dance Club in Detroit” (direct quote from both Channel 4 & Metrotimes- hard hitting reporting...) would ever have an empty dance floor? Not a single lonely soul embarrassing his or herself. Granted it was before 11, but come on. They still had those goddamn blinding strobes on though. The best part of the evening was that I saw a friend whose fake ID is apparently working.

GOOD FRIDAY
APRIL 10 2009

Mad Monster 'Burlesk' Show @ The Northern Lights Lounge

This was my first time in the Northern Lights Lounge. On the drive over I was slightly disturbed by the number of police driving all over the surface streets of Detroit, running red lights, making sudden U-turns, and driving the wrong way down one-way streets, as per usual.


The interior is dimly lit, full of square columns covered in mirrors, and decorated in signed Niagara prints (niagaradetroit.com). The show itself was a sordid affair. A punk rock DJ spinning anything from the Clash to the Sonics to a bunch of other bands with a the in front of their name was the backdrop to curvy women stripping with feathery boas and giant feathers, or maybe those were palm fronds.

A few drinks later I was engaged in a bizarre conversation with a dumpy middle-aged man who kept telling me he was a virgin (I think he meant a Virgo) who rambled on about strippers and leprechauns before calling the guitarist of the Jesus Chainsaw Massacre (my life has been revolving around this band ever since the Blowout) that his girlfriend was a munchkin. Unfortunately for my entertainment the situation "de-fused" itself when he opted to walk away rather than throw a drink or better.

Before leaving the freak show I encountered Vincent Troia,
the man behind the upcoming Detroit Art Battle
The 2008 Detroit Art Battle
(in which I participated)
was a spectacle on a grand scale.
The giant space in the fifth floor of the Russell Industrial Center had been numbered and partitioned off with spaces for each group of artists. Blank white walls were erected adjacent the green-grey crumbling brick walls of the facility, and a black dance floor had been placed in the center of the space with a DJ table at one end to keep everything moving.
Tables serving booze to keep everyone comfortably lubricated had lines that wrapped around the area. After three hours the room had been converted to an unbelievable degree: tents were erected on one end, walls entirely painted floor to ceiling, a fire blazed at one end, neon lights stretched out the windows and into the sky, a girl in a painted-on spacesuit was taped to a wall (my piece), and art debris of all kinds imaginable littered the 5th floor.

SATURDAY
APRIL 11 2009

Lucero @ the Magic Stick


I had no intention of going to this show at the beginning of my night, my intention was to hang around a house party in the Knowles/Harrison block in Royal Oak, a notorious party spot to the bored cops who regularly cruise through looking for intoxicated pedestrians and loud parties. The party proved to be a little -yawn- slow for my tastes, although I ran into an old friend who has since moved to NYC.

So- off to the Magic Stick to see a band I'd never heard of with some people I had never met. We arrived comfortably after midnight, so much so that the show was over. All that I got out of it was a few dirty looks from the kids leaving, a staring contest with a guy who looked like Anton Newcombe from the Brian Jonestown Massacre, and $2 bottle of water.

I had intended this week to review the new Dan Deacon album Bromst as well as some Medeski, Martin & Wood, but I'll get to it over the next week- maybe.
Keep those peeps peeled people!

11/1/09

The Nolan Factor - Thursday November 1st 2009

The Nolan Factor

by The Real Jeff Nolan


In an effort to bring more attention to the often ignored art scene here in Detroit my future columns will have more of a focus on all of the fabulous art happening here and now (the major publications here have at most one writer, in some cases having to all cover art, music, and cultural events singlehandedly).


I always have my ear to the ground and seem to hear about most things going on down there (underground so to speak) and for my first foray into writing more about art I will tell you two places in metro Detroit where you can go out today or tomorrow and see portraits of yours truly hanging about. First, go to Royal Oak's Five 15 on Washington and buy a delicious, fresh-brewed coffee to sip while enjoying Heather Hansma's solo show Bunderland. If you examine the walls and shelves carefully you will see a small painting of yours truly in bunny form, complete with sunglasses at night and my name in huge letters as a backdrop. Finish your coffee, get back in your car (or on your bicycle) and head to the Robert Kidd Gallery in Birmingham. Here you will see the newly opened Bods show, a collection of figure based works featuring the likes of Vincent Desiderio, Robert Mapplethorpe, and Ed Brown. As you wander about, you will notice a large scale Robert Schefman painting with myself as a contemporary representation of Michelangelo's trustworthy assistant.


Ok, so evidently Pitchfork beat me to the "scoop" as so far as breaking the news to the unsuspecting public, but not only was I actually there to see and enjoy it, at the MCB we have more integrity than the peons over at Pitchfork (corporate sponsors = manipulation and lies). To sum it up, Jemina Pearl is sort of a cunt. I saw her previous band of high school aged miscreants, Be Your Own Pet, a few years ago at the Stick where they played to a crowd of emo girls barely old enough to drive. I was there to see the Whirlwind Heat, the opener, who were

mostly ignored by the children in attendance

.


Fast forward about three years and I found myself in front of the stage of Jemina Pearl's current Turbo Fruit/Be Your Own Pet mashup. Overall the sound could be described as fly-over country in the land of punk rock. Iggy Pop and Thurston Moore appear on her album; I don't care. You may have read this somewhere already but its been a little bit since I have posted to MCB


Normally I would not fill my space on the interwebs with dribble about a sparsely attended show on a weeknight, except that during the final song of her *yawn* set Jemina Pearl violently attacked a rather vocal attendee. Throughout the show he had been calling out tracks by her previous bands, much to her dismay. The result was her throwing down the mic mid chorus and pushing him over a table, causing empty glasses to fly and shatter, resulting in a bloody laceration to his neck. This was not enough to satisfy her vengeance, next she dragged him by the hair to the front of the stage where she hit him repeatedly in the face with the microphone, with an amplified pop ringing out on impact.


Unfortunately, as entertaining as the melee was, it simply underlined just how unremarkable the rest of the show was. I almost missed the little bit of action because I had been idly texting friends and making eyes at the sexy bartender.


Perhaps I have become jaded or arrogant after going to several shows a week my whole life, but the White Rabbits show at the Stick last week was also a bit of a snoozefest. I do not mean to say that they didn't perform well or that they are untalented songsmiths, there were moments that really kicked, but after the set I felt that I would have been upset had I not been on the list. (Thank you so much to the uber-friendly staff!)


Local rocker Sean Shea (Macrame Tiger, Polar Opposites, and occasional Marco Polio stand-in) attended the show with me and after the set we ventured backstage for a little meet and greet. The brief and awkward conversation was about as dull as their matching flannels, an odd fashion choice for 2009 to say the least. The White Rabbits seemed more interested in gossip about their horses (WTF?) and their hometown of St. Louis than anything about anything. Nice guys I guess but they were not too interested in having me write anything of interest about them, so congratulations, this is what you get.


On a side note, the folks at the Magic Stick/Majestic seem to be doing a better job than ever with what they are doing, and it is easily the best place to see a live show ever since Scrummage University fell of the face of the Earth.\\

1st emailer @ the address listed to the left gets the WR new vinyl

the band mailed us a handful so good luck

if you are reading this monday some guy in france already won....

he is sending a prepaid envelope - MCB doesnt mail shit to other countries

4/29/09

The Nolan Factor - April 29th 2009

JeffNolan - one of MCB's longtime contributors will be dropping a few posts from time to time about music / art / state of the economy / women / food / car repair / laundry tips

"The Nolan Factor"

I spent this last week painting a pair of mannequin legs for a Harley Davidson dealership and working day and night on a small pile of logo designs and as a result of this excessive freelancing
I didn't do shit this week.
I basically did nothing fun outside of drink gallons of coffee
in my tiny house in Royal Oak.
You may notice that my usual Tuesday column is appearing on a day that is not Tuesday, this is a side-effect of me not having any fun for a week, as my column is typically about me having fun.
So this week instead of hot chicks puking in the streets, rock & rolling around Detroit, and general debauchery I am writing about the old Michigan Central Station, graffiti writers, and Nikki DeSautelle in addition to a grab bag of CD reviews.

I am not yet sure how I feel about the supposed impending doom of the iconic train station. Although it is a total cliché of Detroit, it is not without a certain charm. I first visited with a few graffiti writing friends (efes who wrote camp20 at the time and Slut) who showed me how to get in with out having to climb any fences. It basically involved crawling through a hole in the basement and navigating around gaping holes in near total darkness to a stairway that led to the main lobby.

Inside the train station I have met several photographers, none of whom ever seem to leave the main lobby, a few homeless, and a few writers, most notably Porab.
Porab is a small-statured twenty something of an indeterminate ethnicity. When asked about his name he clarified his heritage, Po for Polish, Rab for Arab.

Less known than the old Michigan Central but more impressive are the train tracks that run through eastern market. You merely have to climb under a bridge or hop a fence in most cases to get down and you are surrounded by towering grafs, homeless digs, and miles and miles of endless tags with no authority figures to be seen- even in the middle of the day, just watch out for the occasional construction crew or train, not that I would ever advocate anyone break the law...

If you already make a past time of vandalizing public buildings and trespassing on private property, why not steal shit too? This is the rationale of nah brah aka dracula who explained to me how he and several other detroit taggers obtain their paint. This is done by walking into Home Depot with a shopping cart, scoping out heavy things that are right in the entrance (bags of salt, dirt, paving stones, cumbersome gardening tools) and then immediately walking to the spray paint isle and filling the cart to the brim.
Then they walk straight out the door with it. In the event that a vigilant employee spot them they claim that they were just taking the cart to the front to put in previously spied heavy object:
“Oh no sir- Of course I wasn't about to leave without paying!
I was just taking this cart full of paint to the front to safely pick up this bag of dirt.”


MONDAY
APRIL 27 2009
Nikki's DeSautelle Solo show
U-245


Nikki DeSautelle is a Detroit based illustrator just finishing her final year at the College for Creative Studies in Detroit. Her solo show held in the U-245 gallery was a tribute to all things small: 42 tiny paintings lined the walls of the one room gallery, a very small book (no larger than a business card) adorned a corner pedestal, and miniature tacos served with mini cupcakes (“minifood” according to her facebook page). Her naïve line work and non-committal washes capture the minute details of her subjects. A particularly striking piece was of a pair of high contrast Michael Jackson-esque dance shoes on their points in a setting that hinted at a lighted stage without putting it directly. Her tiny compositions imply a sense of space beyond the miniature confines of her work by means of her careful cropping and attention to the details that most of the world simply overlook. Her illustrative style of painting is based in drawing and consists primarily of line drawings that define the forms and are essentially painted in.

A book of her work as well as some of her classmates'
is available as a FREE download
or about $28 if you would like a physical copy at
www.lulu.com/content/paperback-book/the-hallway-show/6910573

After a few weeks of reviewing albums in my column I have decided on a slight amendment which will hopefully add clarity to my overall liking (or disliking) of a CD: a 1 to 5 star rating which will accompany each review. It will break down like this:

* = unlistenable
** = not so good, kind of bad
*** = tolerably alright
**** = pretty damn good
***** = phenomenally awesome


Dan Deacon
Bromst

****
Dan Deacon is a deviously trendy electro-dance composer who has been crisscrossing the world playing at every place that asks him to. He has been on some of the largest stages in the world (an the smallest) and has become a leader of the current generation of electronic musicians for his incredibly inventive and intelligent use of samples and noise, subtlety, and above all his wild live performances.
Previous shows in Detroit were hosted by the rambunctious Scrummage kids, in which he placed his folding table of homebrew electronic gizmos and flashing lights in the crowd and fought off the crushing circle of hipsters with his elbows. His newest release is if anything more mature and carefully crafted than previous installments, all available for free from http://www.dandeacon.com/ .
It is a departure from his previous work in that he is now supported by a full band consisting of 8 percussionists, 5 synthesizers, and 2 guitarists instead of playing along to an ipod.


Pete Doherty
Grace / Wastelands
***

Until I had listened to this album Pete Doherty was just that guy who was dating Kate Moss and taking drugs. Evidently he also makes music. His solo album is something like a youthful Bob Dylan knockoff. It features stripped down compositions primarily featuring just he and a guitar. It is dreary and melodramatic with a british accent.
It sounds at times like another mopey English export, the Verve. Winding from spacey tunes to neo-psychedelic folk the album is slow paced and reflective. It maintains a consistent pensive mood with subject matter that varies from Pete Doherty's heroin use, rainstorms, and lost love.
Good music to take a nap to.

"The Nolan Factor IS DETROIT"
Check out more MCB-VIDEOs here

9/9/09

The Nolan Factor - STRIKES BACK



FRIDAY
So, Labor Day weekend. My Friday evening was spent occupying various apartments in the beautiful Park Shelton. A brief foray onto the roof revealed a tacky, yellow sunroom which led out to a nicely finished patio on the roof complete with furnishings, a few umbrellas, and a great view straight down Woodward toward downtown.

The whole Park Shelton experience brought a twinkle to my eye and a sparkle to my 40 as we stood around in the September breeze and spit off the roof. The evening was not even slightly disrupted by the security guards' snide comments about my friend's clothing choices and a snide remark about

how many dozen people had signed into the same room.
All of this fun and more without even going to a show.
SATURDAY
On Saturday there was a show at the Majestic Theater (I think) with the Terrible Two's and Childbite that I had planned to attend. Unfortunately, I was thwarted when everyone coming with bailed on me. Determined to have a night out I scoured the interwebs for an intriguing somethings going on. Arts, Beats, and Eats happened, but a friend in attendance informed me using the phrase "suck it" that I would best avoid the Pontiac festivities.

By about 9 I had my course of action plotted out: Tour De'Troit's DJ dancing 2009 finale at the 5E Gallery in Corktown. It was some sort of urban hipster dance party, similar to Funk Night at CAID before all of the suburbanites, over-exposure, and gentrification. "If it starts at 9" I naively thought, "It should be hopping if I turn up at 11ish." This was flawed logic as it was explained to me by a burly Grecian and Tour De'Troit veteran named Paris. Similar to Funk Night the party gets going when all other parties are ending, long after midnight.

Armed with 40's and about $12 my roommate (and blogger for MCB rival Motorcity Rocks) and I set our sites on the fabulous Motorcity Casino & Hotel for as long as our pathetic funds would allow us to piss our money away. The parking was secure, but not so secure that we couldn't stand in the middle of the lot and down beers in the middle of the night. I wear my sunglasses at night and felt like a some kind of gambling junky staggering around the giant main floor of the casino with a cigar in one hand and a small wad of singles in the other. 25 minutes of drunken confusion over the cavalcade of whirling, noisy slots (lines, credits, antes? what the fuck happened to feeding them coins and pulling a lever?) and we were cashing out about $25 in vouchers after about $6 in random spins.

At this point it was approaching 1 AM (I think) and back at the 5E things were finally getting going. The next 2 or 3 hours are a smear of underdressed girls, people whose names I can't recall, and being repeatedly searched by a scary looking bouncer. It was a fun night, if only I had gotten that Asian girl's number...

LABOR DAY
Labor Day eve passed without much incident, namely hanging out with a severely jet-lagged physicist from Germany and her corporate accountant boyfriend, and the girl from Alaska whose been sleeping on my couch. (Check out Lauren Moyer's art opening "Nuntghel'il" this Friday at the BBAC!) We watched Coffee & Cigarettes and it put us to sleep.

Labor Day was host to the Second Annual St. Powerful Allies Field Day at the Knowles/Harrison block of Royal Oak. The event is hosted by residents Anthony Cholag and Tom Conrad. This bizarre team based competition featured labor themed events such as a three legged race, watermelon eating contest, tug-of-war, dodgeball, and which team's mouth had the largest capacity. Team rankings were kept on a giant dry erase board and prizes ran the gamut from candle sticks to empty flour baskets. St. Powerful Allies Field Day turned out to be quite excruciating at times, and the competition was fierce, although no one took it seriously enough to risk spilling a beer or dropping a cigarette.
The annual event was attended by about 3 dozen 20 somethings with lawn chairs and booze, arousing suspicious looks from the police cars who occasionally circled the block. The tomfoolery was also at one point interrupted by a citizen in a maroon SUV who was concerned that everyone was there to cut down some trees.

The Nolan Factor

1/3/10

The Good The Bad The Ugly in 2009 from MCB

Once again - we do not do lists here on MCB
It goes against our grain and our overall methods here
so that being said we wanted to review our year
and post up a few that needed a second look

After going back over the last 12 months of posts on MCB it sure seems that 2009 was a very long year and it still amazes me that we do as much as we do...we really should be classified as a not for profit and get a cut of the Kresge Fellowship Grants for all we do for our local community.

In regards to contributors we "hired" a bunch but lost a few
and then "fired" a few more to boot...
The need for promotion in this town is obvious as our "roster" grew at an alarming rate and we were able to strengthen most of our existing relationships although we did have to "let go" a few venues and PR companies. Some do not appreciate free promotion but we do not hold a grudge for to long and hopefully we can work it out for the best in the long run.

MCB traveled this year to promote and cover various events
including Rothbury Festival, Rock n Roll Hall of Fame,
Juliette Lewis in Chicago
and Video Interview with DEATH in Austin
for SPIN.

The amount of free stuff we gave away was staggering
tickets, vinyl, CDs, swag, video cameras, frisbees, tshirts
and we even gave away a few cases of Red Bull Cola
and a full press photo pass for CRUE FEST.

We had a few MCB Showcases this year including
the 1st show at the new Alvins
and then kicked off Small's 10 year Anniversary
which was really fun.

Our space at People's Art Festival was larger than the stages
where we donated much of our space to local artists
and was considering the 3rd stage. (It will be bigger in 2010)

This year among the new on MCB:

A semi-weekly comic called SLAW (Something Like A War)
by Detroit John Kalogerakos

Downunder Detroit
by our friends from New Zealand Tall Kiwi chicks

Music on the Brain by Andrew Bender

The Return of Bar Brady Friday Drink Recipes

MONEYPENNY and DC Detroit doing their own thing in style

Do to personal schedules we have lost but have not forgotten
and they pop in every once in a while)
The Nolan Factor by Jeff Nolan
Smitten by Detroit by Anna Hergot

Among my favorites this year were


MCB Lounge at People's Art Festival 2009


As I went through 1900+ posts this weekend it was difficult to pinpoint

So after selecting nearly about 50
I then kindofrandomlywhatever
paired it down to the list below
we covered a LOT of events big and small and am still amazed
that we have the ability to not only get the credentials we acquire
but then deliver the media that we share
with the various "real media" outlets.

We will posting profiles of our contributors soon so look for that
in case you are curious who is who at MCB
and of course come on out to "MCB5"
our 5 year anniversary concert/photo exhibit
at Music Hall Detroit on Sat Jan 16th 2010

Maybe you missed these:


















electric six video footage photos

MCB does Paris france

green day photos

kings of leons

DC in Detroit marquis de sade ball

DC in Detroit and mummies

paul hitz chickens interview @ Trumbullplex

revco photos
exclusive photos of the cult
video interview the datsuns

the rev horton hear

the sights video and photos

Video Interviews with violent soho raev
and this is the super short list geeez

We have no plans to let up in 2010.
Hang on!


MCB dedicates 2010 BP