First a Genius award and now playing on a Sunday afternoon at a slick art museum? Dang, The Intelligence, youze some kinda fancy post-punk band! These two events are in fact linked, as this special performance was part of the Frye Art Museum's "Genius/21st Century/Seattle" series, made up of 65 recipients of the prestigious arts award, given out annually by Seattle's The Stranger newspaper. The Intelligence received the honor in 2011, and promptly used the $5000 award money to buy 500 lbs. of raw almonds, He-Man Underoos, and one of those cute fainting goats. Only the first part of that last sentence is far as I know.

This was a true all-ages show, with a crowd ranging from a sweet chubby-cheeked baby less than a year old to white-haired patrons of the arts, and lots of regular ol' good-lookin', smart-brained Intelligence fans. The elegant setting in a large gallery room with soaring white walls and a warm wood floor was enhanced by low blush-pink light and dramatic shadows. It was particularly sweet to see little kids running around and dancing, familiar faces smiling, and new fans made.

The 45-minute set was generously loaded with lots of songs from The Intelligence's new album, "Vintage Future," a Lars Finberg tour-de-force of incisive lyrics, and catchy, angular, modernist music that is endlessly intriguing, often funny, sometimes tragic, and always important. You may purchase "Vintage Future" at In The Red Records at your leisure, but I suggest just going ahead and doing it NOW by clicking THIS LINK. You know what they say about procrastinators.

Thank you Mr. Lars, Dave Hernandez, Drew Church, and Kaanan Tupper for playing for us and being overall pretty nifty, and to the Frye Art Museum for being free and freaky in the U.S.A.!

(Click on the photos to enlarge and click on the Flickr set link to see more!)

The Intelligence, Frye Art Museum, Seattle, WA. 11/15/15 Flickr set link


Have you ever lived in a dump? Now, I'm not talking about a little lead-based peeling paint here and there, folks...I mean a real DUMP, with pests (both human and rodential), garbage, curling old slices of pizza, with smells that are rich in stale rankness that you can never bleach away? Where there's a dude sleeping on your couch that you don't even know and the police stop by regularly to "say hello?" If so, have I got a video for you to commiserate with! If not, WELCOME TO HELL! At least for a couple of dizzying minutes!

Last August on a pleasantly warm evening, I and many musical pals made our way over to Seattle's Columbia City neighborhood to help Seattle's Best Punk Band™∞, the effervescent wimps, with their new video entitled (you guessed it) "Dump." My job was to shoot photos and stay out of the way. Others had to drink generic beer and stay in the way. Carlos Alberto Fernandez Lopez's job was to direct the video, ably assisted by wife and associate producer Cathy Lopez (and their sweet still-in-utero-then son Iggy), and camera/lighting whiz Joshua Green. This is the second time I've been lucky enough to work alongside Carlos and Cathy, who create such a pleasant, laid-back, and fun atmosphere out of what normally might be something rather stressful. I really am fascinated by how films are made, especially the continuous-shot take, like "Dump." Everything has to be timed just right, or you must begin the shot again. But hey...if there's a mistake it's just a good excuse to drink more beer and eat more pizza!


We here in the Emerald City are afforded, EVERY DAY OF THE YEAR, a spectacular bounty of incredible local music talent to enjoy, fed to us like peeled grapes. All we have to do is show up and BOOM! Grape in mouth! Now we will share some of our BEST GRAPES with you, the residents of the West Coast, courtesy Help Yourself Records: post-punks Steal Shit Do Drugs and Nail Polish are heading to Oregon, California, and Nevada RIGHT THIS MINUTE IN A VAN!! The "WE'LL ALL BE RICH" World Tour begins TONIGHT, November 6th at the Kenton Club in Portland, and continues on through Santa Rosa, Oakland, Los Angeles, San Diego, San Francisco, Davis, and ends up in Reno on November 14th. I encourage my friends in these three fine states to check out our lovely friends if you can, buy some merch, and dig some of our best and brightest (or best and darkest, if we want to keep with the whole No Wave thang). Thank you!


Things kinda get a little freaky around Halloween -- crazy costumes, candy overload, spooky decor, the 2016 Republican debates -- but sometimes LEGIT FREAK is on and no amount of bite-sized Twix bars are going to save you, baby! Come with me if you dare to the Highline Bar in Capitol Hill, where last Wednesday night the crazies crept out of their lairs to entertain the brave assembled! DISCLAIMER: visually-squeamish viewers may wish to avert their eyes from fake blood and people jumping on Lego bricks with bare feet. Please to enjoy!


Food, to me, is one of the great pleasures in life. When I really like a food, MAN ON MAN, I like it. I savor, I swoon, I make every last morsel last the longest I can, which invariably leaves me the last at the table, flirting with a creamy Brie or juicy mango slice. So, since I'm a big fan of food, I do remember a lot about the things I liked especially when I was little and growing up in Wisconsin, and I thought I'd share (or confess) some of the weirder things I used to consume, with recipes if you'd like to indulge. Please to enjoy!


You need: Cocktail rye bread, raw lean ground beef, sliced raw onion, salt, pepper

This was my favorite treat for years and years, and my dad's favorite. It is also fairly insane, as eating raw beef is a bad idea. Oh, but it was SO GOOD! The key, my mom said, was buying the best fresh custom-ground sirloin and consuming it immediately, and pouring on so much salt and pepper that your blood pressure would explode your vessels.

Do I still eat this?: No. I am not insane. But I sure do miss them.


You need: Two slices of Wonder Bread, Miracle Whip Salad Dressing

Slather on the Miracle Whip onto the squooshiest white bread you can find; consume. I liked these because they were fast.

Do I still eat this?: No. I now like fiber and flavor in my bread, and buy actual mayo.


You need: 2 slices Wonder Bread, Skippy Chunky peanut butter, Hershey's Chocolate Syrup

We never had candy around the house, so the day I improvised this calorie-fest to approximate a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup I figured I was a straight-up genius. The Hershey's gave it kind of a bitter, processed flavor, but WHO CARES? CANDY SANDWICH!

Do I still eat this?: No. I'd weigh 5000 pounds by now and would be forced to have a reality show.


You need: 1 can Franco-American Macaroni and Cheese, 1/2 cup cottage cheese

You're lucky I couldn't find a photo of this mixture, because it looks like puke. The choice of this particular canned mac n' cheese was crucial, with its pale yellow fat long noodles, which were unnaturally slippery, in a salty, weird cheesy sauce. The addition of the cottage cheese boosted the salty cheesiness to another level. This was comfort food for me, but it grosses absolutely everyone else out.

Do I still eat this?: About once a year. JUDGE ME, I DON'T CARE!


You need: leftover cooked refrigerated sauerkraut with caraway seeds

If my mom had cooked pork roast or chops during the week, you can be sure she served sauerkraut with it, and if there were leftovers, they were MINE. This was one of my favorite Saturday day morning cartoon-watching snacks, complete with sauerkraut juice that I'd lap up from the bottom of the bowl. This also grossed out everyone, especially my friends who might be sleeping over. I did not care.

Do I still eat this?: I still love sauerkraut (and caraway seeds are VITAL), but the big cold bowl of it is beyond what I can process in my dotage.


You need: 1 lb. hamburger, 1 medium onion, chopped, several dashes Worcestershire sauce, salt and pepper, hamburger buns or rye bread

This was my mom's recipe, and one of my dad's favorite lunches. You'd cook the hamburger down into well-done crumbles that resembled tiny carbon rocks, with translucent, extremely-caramelized onions, dashes of Lee & Perrins, and plenty of salt and pepper. Served loose on a bun or rye, it was tasty as heck, ya.

Do I still eat this?: Yes! And the kids love it, too.


You need: Wonder Bread, Skippy Chunky peanut butter, salted butter

In my house, all sandwiches came with butter. ALL. So I didn't realize this was kinda weird until I was an adult. But, I must say, the addition of the butter to the peanut butter highlights the salt and fat in a most-pleasing way,

Do I still eat this?: No, it seems indulgent. But I remember it with taste fondness.


You need: a jar of maraschino cherries

This got me in trouble a lot. We always had a jar of maraschino cherries in the fridge for my dad's cocktails, and we were verboten to eat them, which was awful because they were DELICIOUS. It was all I knew of cherries until I got to be around 10 and had a real cherry, which of course I thought was sour and hideous in comparison to this over-sweetened probably-toxic fruit thing. Anyway, I rationalized that, OK, if I couldn't eat the cherries, I could drink the juice from the jar, right?

Do I still eat this?: That would be really bizarre. No.


You need: cold cooked hot dogs, sliced into bite-sized circles, butter, 2 slices Wonder Bread

This sandwich was like a more-satisfying version of the classic baloney-on-white sandwich. Yes, the hot dog circles would sometimes fall out of the sandwich as you tried to eat it, but it was a challenge I was up to.

Do I still eat this?: I haven't had one in decades, but would like to revisit it once.

10. ZOTZ

You need: Zotz candy

Zotz! I hope you have experienced Zotz in your lifetime, people. It was created in Italy in the late '60s, and remains my favorite candy because IT IS FUNNY. Food + humor = YES. You start out sucking on the fruity hard candy shell, right? Then you get bored and bite into it. THEN A GIANT SOUR FOAM IS RELEASED AND SLAMS YOUR MOUTH! HA HA! Oh, I love it so. I used to trade hoarded Halloween chocolate for these if my friends had some.

Do I still eat this?: In my 40s, I took the Zotz Challenge on a dare, and stuffed as many Zotz into my mouth as I could and then chewed. The resultant explosion blew out of my mouth while I laughed myself into tears. So, there's your answer.

This lady is trying just one Zot for the first time. HA HA! Strange for some people, is just strange.


John Lennon would have been 75 years old today. As I get on further in years and have had the privilege to observe human beings up close and personal over many decades, I've come to the conclusion that our innate personalities remain fairly stable throughout our lives. Life throws crap at you, you change and grow, but you still are who you are. So taking that theory into account, I think John Lennon would have remained John Lennon, his essential qualities of intelligence, musical and artistic talent, and quick wit intact. His lesser qualities, of course, would have also remained. There's no excusing some of Lennon's past behaviors, particularly notable in his earlier years, and particularly cruel and heartless towards his first wife, Cynthia, and son Julian. If you have the ability to act in this manner, you will never lose it, but perhaps might gain the wisdom, compassion, and self-control to be able to mute it.

There have been some high-profile articles written this year detailing Lennon's personal failures and horrible behaviors, but any serious fan of Lennon and The Beatles knew it all already. It was clickbait for millennials who rather rake a famous dead man over the coals on the internet than look at change over time. For as many rotten things as Lennon may have done, we were able to see that he eventually became aware of the pain he had caused, and was determined to try to be a better human being. As it would be for anyone even without the extreme situation of being one of the world's most powerful people, the process was and would have continued to be challenging for him. When you are used to thinking and behaving in ways that you come to believe are unacceptable, you have to rewrite your internal playbook page by agonizing page. For Lennon, for all of us, the process of becoming a person of integrity and accountability takes a full lifetime.

Lennon was robbed of this opportunity at age 40, but I think we knew where he was going. I can't think of a more vocal male feminist in the early '70s, when rock gods were still using and abusing women as their natural right. His devotion to his young son Sean and renewal of his relationship with Julian was heartening. Lennon's true passion was activism for world peace, and perhaps it was in part a broad expression of his own internal struggle, looking for sanity, kindness, and reconciliation. He didn't offer any excuses for what he did in the past. He just started making the changes, fighting against some pretty solid demons, but trying anyway. This is what I want to remember about him -- that he became cognizant, and began the journey of becoming better. You are who you are, and part of John Lennon's character was his fierce will. I have no doubt at all that he would have kept at it, and on his 75th birthday would have had much to celebrate.

A few days ago, I decided I wanted to learn how to play Lennon's "Instant Karma" on the piano. I do not play the piano, but I too have some determination in my character. I sat down and figured out the chords, very slowly and with many frustrating mistakes. My left hand ached from trying to do the octave spread needed throughout the song, and had to bag it. I'd sit down for awhile, work on it, then walk away, so many other things to attend to. Two lines from the song kept running through my head on these days:
Why on earth are we here?
           Surely not to live in pain and fear 

Well, I guess I'd answer the question like this: we are here to understand, embrace, and then conquer pain and fear, and not let it take away any of our goodness, our happiness, or our abilities to contribute well to the world. Fly your freak flag proudly, be nice, work hard, and then work harder. Repeat as long as you can.

My highly inelegant hammering away at "Instant Karma" won't win any ribbons, but it made me feel happy, and glad that I had a chance to think about this extremely-relevant song today, and how much I love people for who they are, flaws included.


Instant Karma's gonna get you, 
Gonna knock you right on the head, 
You better get yourself together, 
Pretty soon you're gonna be dead, 
What in the world you thinking of, 
Laughing in the face of love, 
What on earth you tryin' to do, 
It's up to you, yeah you. 

Instant Karma's gonna get you, 
Gonna look you right in the face, 
Better get yourself together darlin', 
Join the human race, 
How in the world you gonna see, 
Laughin' at fools like me, 
Who on earth d'you think you are, 
A super star, 
Well, right you are. 

Well we all shine on, 
Like the moon and the stars and the sun, 
Well we all shine on, 
Ev'ryone come on. 

Instant Karma's gonna get you, 
Gonna knock you off your feet, 
Better recognize your brothers, 
Ev'ryone you meet, 
Why in the world are we here, 
Surely not to live in pain and fear, 
Why on earth are you there, 
When you're ev'rywhere, 
Come and get your share. 

Well we all shine on, 
Like the moon and the stars and the sun, 
Yeah we all shine on, 
Come on and on and on on on, 
Yeah yeah, alright, uh huh, ah-. 

Well we all shine on, 
Like the moon and the stars and the sun, 
Yeah we all shine on, 
On and on and on on and on. 

Well we all shine on, 
Like the moon and the stars and the sun. 
Well we all shine on, 
Like the moon and the stars and the sun. 
Well we all shine on, 
Like the moon and the stars and the sun. 
Yeah we all shine on, 
Like the moon and the stars and the sun.


I like to think of my forays into the dust and must of the thrift stores as cultural archaeology. I would also like to think, if I were sufficiently motivated and waved handfuls of cash around, that I could convince a credible university to let me design a master's degree program in American Thrift Store Studies. Other than taking on the crippling debt, it would almost be worth doing. But for today, here's some more old crap. Please to enjoy!

No, there's nothing creepy about this skull-bisected cookie jar clown. WAIT A MINUTE, YES THERE IS!! AIEEE!


"Stubbins, what would you do if you had two heads?"
"I'd join a circus, sir."
--Dr. Doolittle's query to young Tommy Stubbins regarding the Pushmi-Pullyu, 

It has been said that internal conflict is a classic spark for creative work, the psychic kerosene that fuels people to make things. If this is so, The Intelligence's songwriter/vocalist/multi-instrumentalist Lars Finberg reigns as the Duke of Dichotomies, the Prince of Polarity, and the King of Contrariety, even evidenced in the title of the band's new album, "Vintage Future." Finberg's crispy-fried, carbon-black-humored lyrics on "Vintage Future" wrestle stark dualities for breakfast, while you and I are still groggy and contemplating choices no more taxing than having sugar or Splenda in our morning coffee. But it's a battle that doesn't seem to produce a victor nor has particular hope in even attaining a draw. It's life presented as a mental Sisyphus vs. the mountain struggle, when as the boulder rolls down the steep, craggy hill yet another time all one can do is offer an exhausted, frantic laugh and begin to roll it back up once again, even if you'd really rather watch TV...and where it's furthermore and entirely possible you constructed the mountain all yourself. 

Did I mention all these conflicts are set to incredibly appealing music? As we hurtle forward into the now, "Vintage Future" shines throughout with sharp performances by Dave Hernandez on guitar, keys, and vocals, Pete Capponi on drums, Drew Church on bass, and very able additional work by former Thee Oh Sees members Brigid Dawson and Petey Dammit, Sic Alps' Mike Donovan, The Mallard's K. Dylan Edrich, and co-producer/studio whiz Chris Woodhouse, altogether very fine people to work with. Let us place the needle on the outer rim of the orange vinyl 12" and begin.

SEX: Finberg decides to begin "Vintage Future" with a jackhammer beat and knife-slash guitar that tears open a brutally self-aware relationship confessional box, filled with indecision, entitlement, self-loathing, lust, love, and all kinds of blame, self- and otherwise. I can't even count all the Hail Marys and Our Fathers you'd need to resolve this, especially because I'm not Catholic. 

NOCTURNAL ADMISSIONS: A spooky slap-back echo chug-chug down the road has Finberg giving what would not be considered a ringing endorsement of pursuing a musical career, a theme that goes throughout "Vintage Future" and most of Finberg's work, actually. Hey, you try starting out in music exactly when digital music comes into being and simultaneously makes your work more accessible and of no monetary value! Hop in the van, kids, it's fun!

CLEANING LADY: An airbrake-release double-beat keeps rigid time over creepy guitar and keyboards, lending a sinister air and harkening back to The Intelligence's earliest work, when it was just Lars, a fear of death, and a lot of instruments in a room. 

WHIP MY VALET: I gasped with delight to hear the machine-gun rapid fire drum opening and crunchy clipped chords here, and am grateful it's under two minutes long because I anticipate uncontrollable pogo dancing to this in the future.

WE REFUSE TO PAY THE DUES: Relentlessly catchy, with soaring shiny guitars, a singalong chorus, and head-boppin' riff, you forget as you are singing along that the song seems to be the narrative of a fantastically-snobby-yet-failed band. Easily The Intelligence's most broadly-accessible and commercial song ever, the irony of all this is why we love The Intelligence.

PLATINUM JANITOR: The band narrative continues with a slow descending guitar string scrape, as our lyrical combo gets further jolted by musical realities in "a great big world with nothing but yous," tormented by "shitty guitars/touring in cars/wet-heaving/playing through Peaveys." But, in considering the life alternatives, at least "it's not a broken mop handle or handcuffed to a cop." This is close to the apex of optimism on "Vintage Future."

TOURISTS: An island-pace acoustic guitar is embellished by pebble-drop synths and the flat patter of cheap electro-drums, pretty and strange, with Finberg reminiscing over a past love with the realization that he is now is a "tourist" rather than a "native" in the relationship. 

DIEU MERCI POUR LE FIXATION DE LA MACHINE A COUDRE: Wait...STRINGS? Lyrics that are straight-up in romantic swoon mode? WHO IS THIS GUY?? The actual aforementioned apex of lyrical optimism comes here, with "I think I almost feel right." Whoa. This song reminds me to tell you that the production values throughout "Vintage Future" are also swoon-worthy, with a warmth and clarity that gives the songs a sonic breadth that is welcomed. The vocals are clean and confident, even if the words can't quite say, "I feel fine.

BONUS! The title of this song is clearly in French, and I thought it was a straight translation of an earlier Intelligence song, "Thank God For Fixing The Tape Machine," found on the "Fake Surfers" album. Well, I ran it through three different online translation bots, and this is what I got:


ROMANS: This is one of my favorite songs from The Intelligence's live set of the last couple of years, and I've been very eager to hear it recorded and HERE IT IS! It begins all stealthy and underground, and then explodes into a fury of noise that is breathtaking, eventually reeling back enough to allow us to sip some water and perhaps procure a fan. The lyrics are either too opaque or too straightforward for me to analyze, but I can mention that the band did get all their gear, clothes, and personal effects jacked while in Rome awhile back, and I bet this leaves an impression on a guy, yep.

VINTAGE FUTURE: The album closes with its beginning, the title of the record. A sweet duet from Lars and Brigid, where we are sent off metaphorically with a jetpack to visit the Jetsons, but actually end up driving a new Mustang to the mall to buy a machine-weathered "industrial loft style" coffee table for $3050.00, or something like that, or maybe nothing like that. The last thing you hear as the needle tracks to the playout groove is a robo-voice stiffly crying out, "But I was just learning how to love!" and all the regret and blame from "Sex" circles back, reminding us that a vintage future is one that keeps clawing us back to the past.

To be or not to be? To be in a band or not to be in a band? To be in a relationship or not be in a relationship, or be in a relationship and wish you weren't but still are, or not be in one and wish you were in the one you used to not want to be in when you were in it? Hell, don't ask me...ask the Sultan of the Scales, Lars Finberg. Actually, don't ask that guy, 'cause he's got songs to write. But do listen to "Vintage Future," available on CD, vinyl LP, FLAC, and MP3 from In The Red Records, Amazon, iTunes, Midheaven, and all other cool places to buy music, available September 25th, with immediate pre-order.

"Finberg, what would you do if you had two heads?"
"I'd start a band, sir."


There's nothing better than kid art. It's one of the main reasons I had kids, just to get the art. Anyway, in the constant battle that is cleaning and organizing in my house, I came across these pieces that I saved from my daughter's preschool days. I howled at the bleakness and reminded myself to NEVER throw SOME things away. Click to enlarge and please to enjoy!


In the Fall of 1973, I was newly into 6th Grade at Ashippun (WI.) Elementary School, although back in those groovy days "grade levels" there had sort of been set aside for "units" A, B, and C, grouped loosely by ascending age and ability. We were a mix of farm and town kids, with "town" being the small group of houses surrounding a five tiny saloons, a firehouse, and a post office, no more than 300 people in total. I can remember particularly that year one of the bars was open very early in the morning (Wisconsin, remember) and would sell CANDY to us schoolkids before we got on the schoolbus. Hot dog gum, Kit Kat bars, Boston Baked Beans, Bit O' Honey, Red Hots, Almond Joy and Mounds, candy many tiny joys that rotted our teeth and depleted our school milk money allotments. These were also the days when your parents could send you with a written note to buy cigarettes for them from the same bars, but that's another topic.

If there's anything elementary-age kids love, it's trading and collecting. It could be cool rocks, swizzle sticks (again, Wisconsin), or the above candies. But in 1973, the big kid collecting fad was the return of Wacky Packages. For a nickel a pack, you got some stiff, powdery bubble gum and three stickers, which hilariously spoofed common household products. With American super-consumer culture into its third decade and a heightened zeitgeist of "question authority," we kids weren't buying the hype we saw on TV commercials by now...we'd grown up with all the tricks of advertising. Wacky Packages brilliantly mixed that youthful cynics' eyeview with the zest to collect, as if MAD Magazine got into the trading card business. They made millions off us while making us laugh.

I was so proud of my collection that I peeled them off and made a mini-album out of a piece of cardboard and clear plastic, stapled together. I recently found it in a box of dusty school papers and art that had been stored for decades, and my smile, 42 years later, was wide. I did a little research and confirmed that they all belong to the 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 6 series of Wacky Packages releases, going from the fall of '73 to the spring of '74. The glue is failing to hold, but they still look pretty good!

The next year I was off to junior high in the "city" (of about 7000 people), and the fad had faded. But good satire never dies, and I thought I'd share these with you. Click on the images to enlarge!


The crazy-ass windstorm that blasted through the Pacific Northwest this past weekend decided, FOR ONCE, not to knock out my electricity nor impede my mobility! Furthermore, said storm calmed its bad self down by Sunday, and I was off to see a fabulous sold-out triple-bill at The Crocodile in Belltown starring California post-punk rave-up get-down maniacs Thee Oh Sees and locals Steal Shit Do Drugs and Smiling. To be fair, even if the windstorm had been in full force I think I would've swam across Lake Washington with a ducky float to get there, 'cause you don't miss the Oh Sees when they come to town. You just don't.


Last night, as I sat on the steps of the sweet little Bill & Melinda Gates Amphitheater overlooking very tall modern art and listening to two of our finest punk bands while the late-summer sun slowly slid down in a peachy glow, I said to a friend, "I don't know why we'd ever live anywhere else." That really was the vibe last night as wimps and Pony Time closed out the musical portion of the Seattle Art Museum's "Summer At SAM" series -- everyone seemed so happy to be in such a lovely place, having such a good time. "Everyone," in this case, ranged from fuchsia-haired teens to moneyed art folk to adorable preschoolers busting serious dance moves to suburban mom photographers with a penchant for excellent garage music. The latter person appreciated the daylight and excellent weather and the opportunity to shoot what I think will end up being some of my favorite photos of the year.

Both Pony Time and wimps are bursting with new music, and I could not recommend the purchase of these ditties more heartily -- please undertake this action by clicking on their highlighted band names in this very sentence! I hope, as the summer comes to its final few days, that you too find some time to go outside and enjoy whatever it is that makes you smile. As long as it isn't a federal crime or anything, ya know. 

Always, you may click on the photos to enlarge and click on the Flickr links to see more! Thank you SAM, wimps, and Pony Time!


Yesterday, I invested some time into watching a documentary about salt mining. There are people who devote their entire lives to harvesting salt from the earth, sometimes at great personal risk, so that you may enjoy a flavorful Dorito. Me, I spent my time harvesting weird images from the bowels of the thrift store, so that you may enjoy an element of surprise and/or joy in your day. I await patiently for my own documentary. Until then, please to enjoy these latest finds!!

Keeper? GUESS NOT.


We've made it to Day Three of all that is Pizza Fest VI -- Seattle's very own annual celebration of pizza, punk rock, and PBR's that has become a musical tradition in our town each summer. From humble beginnings, it's grown to be a multi-day, multi-venue festival featuring some of the best garage-grown local and national bands around, capped off by a pizza-eating contest that is only for the bravest of souls and the hardiest of stomachs. I don't know what you'd want more in entertainment, people, because Pizza Fest is the apex of FUN. OK, now I want to form a Planet Of The Apes-themed band called Ape X and play Pizza Fest next year. GOALS!

Get ready to scroll, click, n' roll through the MASSIVENESS of Day Three and my interview with Pizza Fest guru Pete Capponi!! Also, if you are like me and like to do things in chronological order, check out coverage of Day One and Day Two first, and THEN read on!

Matt Nyce of wimps enjoying pizza at Pizza Fest VI.

Saturday was bustin' busy for me as I had to go see about a guy, so got to the El Corazon too late to see openers, local werewolves Wolfgang Fuck. Maybe they will forgive me and let Ape X open for them someday. Or maybe they will just rip me to shreds. You can't tell with werewolves. Anyway, they will have recorded music available soon, and I know you want it, as do I.

I really, really dug Chicago's Uh Bones, who had just the kind of fuzzy, nasty three-chord '60s-style garage songs that form my DNA, and cause my head to nod and my feet to hop like I had a grave neurological disorder. I would go see them everyday.

Guitarist Kenny rocked his glasses right off his face at one point during their set. Being the kind soul, sympathetic severe myopic, and fellow wimps fan that I am, I handed them back to him right away. After I took a picture of the glasses, of course.

Uh Bones, Pizza Fest VI, El Corazon, Seattle, WA. 8/8/15 Flickr set


Woo-eee, babies! That's right, sit tight: it's time for more mesmerizing MEDIA-RICH coverage of all that is PIZZA FEST VI, featuring some of the best punk, garage, psych, and power pop bands this nation provides! Also -- and this is vital to understanding the spirit of Pizza Fest -- there is PIZZA, for PIZZA is EVERYTHING! My friend and creative colleague AJ Dent handled duties for Day One of this 3-day extravaganza at The Funhouse. and I insist that you view her stellar work RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW. I'll wait here with Shannon and Jordan of Gazebos while you're gone.


WASN'T THAT FRIGGIN' GREAT?? Yes, it was! OK, so now we are up to Day Two, moving over to the newly-renovated Chop Suey for another round of gooey goodness! Because I was enjoying myself at Day One the night before, I got to the venue a little late and missed Patsy's Rats, which you must admit is a fine band name. Please patronize their Bandcamp and buy their summer-shiny brand new single...which is not a cover of "Ben," by the way.

Next on the bill was Susan, which was not at all Susan Boyle, and was instead three youthful ladies from Los Angeles whose identical outfits and beachy-keen garage bop made me want to skip school with them so we could hang out on the sand with the cute bad boys and eat french fries. What? It could happen.

Susan, Pizza Fest VI, Chop Suey, Seattle 8/7/15 Flickr set