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Grits and Shits
by Cripsy Duck 10-24-00
(printed in C-VILLE Vol.12, No.44)
SOUTHERN CULTURE ON THE SKIDS W/ THE 45'S - THE GUANO BOYS - AVON STREET #2
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10/19/00 Even from way out in the parking lot I could hear something intense brewing, so I hastened in for the 45's opening set. With unforseen ferocity the Atlanta quartet was pummeling the crowd with a non-stop barrage of kick-down-mom's-bedroom-door '70's British mod rock and R& B, laced with organ wails and some of the sweetest "Beatles-scream" harmonies since the fab four started hijacking Chuck Berry's repretoire. Absolutely slammin'.
Southern Culture on the Skids remains the irrepressible tongue-in-cheek party rock ode to bad redneck-ism that they've always been, a tribute to old-school boogie surf 'n roll wrapped in a hilarious bouffant, overalls and fried chicken package laden with campy sexual innuendos safe enough for a child to use. Always hilarious and still a force to be reckoned with, their surfabilly garage rock onslaught-- championed by guitarmaster/goofball Rick Miller's super-twang soloing -- gets to the meat of the matter every time, batter-fries it and serves it up hot with a side of silly greens. Thursday's show was stock Skid gutter trash brilliance, peaking with the obligatory late-show audience participation sequence where ladies up front are asked to join the band onstage, toss fried chicken into the crowd and boogie to "Eight Piece Box" and "Camel Walk." S.C.O.T.S.'s blissful shenanigans remain rock and roll's best and perhaps only real incentive to worship white trash trailer parks, greasy southern soulfood and cheap-ass beer.
10/20/00 Being a non-Rastafarian all-white reggae band isn't the easiest thing to pull off. Serious fans of the medium might be predisposed to "question your groove," as it were, so success or failure tends to rest on your capacity to faithfully represent the stripped-down Jamaican idioms without succombing to washed-out rock clichˇs. I am happy to report that the Guanos handle the task admirably, dicing up a healthy spread of traditional roots flavors without digressing into the mushier aspects of rock. All this with some pretty uncommon instrumentation-- upright bass and pedal steel guitar for starters-- and a flair for the friendlier aspects of island grooviness.
Head honcho Chris Leva will be remembered from his work with T'ain't and Token Jones and occasional guest spots with the Hogwaller Ramblers, but his Guano Boys have long been garnering accolades from regional acoustic music and reggae fans. This version of the band-- although occasionally veering almost too close to cheesiness with some Love Boat-ish calypso-style action-- is definitely fit to party to. Hornmen Andy Rowland (former Secret frontman) and Nate Hawke (formerly of recent Full Flavor projects) did stellar jobs trading up sweet solo spots on the alto and baritone saxes respectively. Dave Grant worked the upright bass like it was designed to play authentic roots reggae and Spencer Lathrop (now with the Hogwaller Ramblers) showed his devotion to Jamaica's sparse Africanized rhythms with a finesse few percussionists can muster. No shit, the Guanos are a reggae band your mom and your Rastafarian weed connection could happily groove to. Avon Street #2 Downtown may have begun bearing seasonal musical fruit in the form of an underground "audio magazine" being spun out by a few of the area's scenesters. Spearheaded by the music of Raphael Wintersberger and Abel Okugawa and the art work of photographer/poet Aaron Ferrington, Avon Street #2 is the second installation in a series the group are making available by pre-order only. These discs are hand-made one at a time in almost every detail-- from the individual burning and adorning of the CD's themselves to their spray painted jewel cases to the photographic prints that make up their covers-- and the effect is quite lovely. This latest edition-- five tracks in all-- features two of Wintersberger's inspired spooky closet pop originals and two of Okugawa's ambient atmospheric beat experiments decked out with spacey nature sounds, electronic pops and other dreamscape goodies. Bonus oddities include ghosty backup vocals by shoot-from-the-hip acousti-pop wondergirl devon and some nutty rant smatterings by downtown's Joe Maynard, the former Williams S. Burroughs archivist who's been a fixture in downtown kitchens since that fateful day when Allen Ginsburg posed for a portrait with him. (That very photo still hangs in the C&O bar.) As I said, the disc is available by pre-order only, so if you want to dig into this cool medium-fi space nugget, you'll have to roll by Miller's some night when Raphael is working the bar and request that he set you up with one. It's definitely worth it.
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