Mestizo Beat "Jaraguá"

Mestizo Beat

Jaraguá

scum stats: 600 copies on black vinyl, 200 copies on maroon. I have the black...

An interesting thing happens around here...bands mail in copies of their records asking if we will sell them in our store. When I worked at Car City Records back at the turn of the century, I don't remember this ever happening, no one blindly mailed us an LP and asked us to stock it.

But because of the Third Man reach, maybe we're just on a wider radar than most other folks. Problem is...we don't sell records not on the Third Man label. So these records, I don't know, maybe 15-20 a year, arrive with a request that we will never be able to meet.

These records are often forgettable. Mestizo Beat is the exception to the rule. The rhythm heavy instrumentation, self-described "instrumental West Coast Latin funk" is sublime. Low rider jams verging on no wave "Optimo" bass breaks all coalesce into fuzz lined guitar leads that propel the songs into whirls of horn and percussion.

Dare I say, you cannot go wrong here.

I have a difficult time imagining anyone taking issue with these songs. Just enjoyable for days, something you could relax to or hop up and shake it.

So while we might not be selling any copies in store, surely the dedicated readers here will tick up the mail order sales (hello Bandcamp Friday!) and we'll still hit the desired goal...more people knowing more about this incredible band. 

 

 

August 13, 2024 8:34pm

The smell

Of fresh cut grass

In mid-August

(but ONLY mid August)

Time warps

Dry and dusty

Like soccer try outs

A little scared

About not making the team (everyone made the team)

About seeing your friends for the first time in months (we didn’t keep in touch in the summers)

About running so much you puke (this happened fifty percent of the time)

Say A Little Prayer For Her And Say A Little Prayer For Yourself

https://www.nugs.net/live-download-of-the-white-stripes-live-at-the-magic-bag-ferndale-mi-07-30-1999-mp3-flac-or-online-music-streaming/37796.html

The White Stripes played fifteen shows in 1999. Only three of those occurred in any approximate vicinity of others (the late September sojourn opening for Pavement) meaning each one of the shows from ‘99 exists in a vacuum, with new songs flying in and different arrangements making themselves known, no real established running order or pacing/tempo/meter/cadence. All but four of these shows were recorded in some manner, which still feels like a tiny miracle given how unknown and unheralded the band was at this juncture.

Outside of the Stripes show from the Gold Dollar, August 14th 1997, this July 30th, 1999 gig is the White Stripes show that I have listened to the most in my life. No doubt I immediately popped this sumbitch into the cassette deck of the ‘95 Ford Taurus on the way home from the show and would continue to come back to it for years. It lives in my head rent free, iconic and memorized and encased in amber, a memory reinforced by the consistent reliving of it over the past twenty-five years that it’s foundationally unparalleled in my understanding of the band.

When I listen now, what immediately grabs me is the piano. The piano!!! Oh man, it felt like a huge coup to get the powers-that-be at the Bag to actually let Jack play the thing, a seemingly “fancy” instrument that lived on the stage but was always covered up when bands of their ilk were in the house. In comparison, the powers that be would not let the band use the projection/video screen (they softened that stance by the De Stijl album release show the following year). 

Twenty years after the show, dear friend (and White Stripes roadie in arms) Brandon Beaver mailed me a stack of Polaroid pictures that I had taken at the show. I had completely forgotten about this, because, well, it wasn’t in the recording. They hadn’t informed my recollection, my mind canon of it all. I was surprised to see the piano, this grand (baby grand?) beast covered in the red-and-white stripes of an American flag that was previously used as a stage backdrop as depicted on the cover of TMR-345. The visual of it all is striking, it is visually compelling and indicates a modicum of extra effort that separated the Stripes from their peers at the time.

Couple that with the fact that in the rehearsals leading up to the show, Jack and Meg had repeatedly practiced a cover of the song “Do You Love Me Now?” originally by the Breeders. I still don’t know why they didn’t play it that night…the moments in rehearsal were solid and worthy of being trotted out on stage. It sounded damn cool. The fact that the band never recorded a version of this song is one of the bigger frustrations in the “Shit The White Stripes Should Have Done” list in my head.

The recording here is the first time that a piano or any keys are ever used live in a White Stripes performance and it’s beautiful.

Terry Cox was the sound man on this night. At the time he was the front-of-house engineer at the Magic Stick, so I’m not really sure why he was at the Magic Bag this evening. But with Terry behind the mixing desk, the band got a more-familiar set of ears working in their favor, as opposed to some rando without a clue as to what the band sounded like. The reverb on vocals “Love Sick” is a prime example of the special touch Terry brought to the mix. Reverb on the snare too. Actually, it’s just a shit ton of reverb. The whole show sounds “BIG” in a way that no other recording from this era ever would. God bless Terry.

“Love Sick” here is the Stripes first ever performance of the song, not even two years old by this point, the highlight of Bob Dylan’s Time Out Of Mind album from 1997. It sounds important. It sounds serious. It sounds like it is a harbinger of bigger things to come.

Followed by “Dead Leaves” which, by this point, still hadn’t truly found its form. A piano take on the song is still a rare outing, so even though it is by far the song the band played most in their career, I’m unclear if it was ever done exclusively on piano again.

The tension here is palpable. Between “Dead Leaves” and “St. James” someone shouts something in the crowd. At 2:04 and again at 2:07. You can just barely hear it. Wouldn’t be a stretch to think they’re screaming “Fuck you!” Whatever is said, Jack responds with “You’re a liar,” echoing Dylan’s retort at the Manchester Free Trade Hall in 1966 to a member of the crowd shouting “Judas!”

Couple that with the intro to “Astro” where Jack extemporaneously sings “I’m gonna kill my brother Jack” from Meg’s perspective, to the tune of “Three Little Fishies” a child-like number 1 hit from 1939. I recall Meg responding to this moment with a dismissive laugh, but still, I remember feeling uncomfortable. It was awkward.

But at some point, it all changes, the air is cleared, so to speak. Everything feels…understood? Accepted? Light-hearted even? Having thought about this many times over the intervening 25 years, I just know that while the first half of the set embodies a tension, the second half emboldens a joy throughout. Listening now, I smile. I feel happy.

As Jack is ready to end the performance with “Broken Bricks” you can hear Kevin Peyok (The Waxwings, Jack White and The Bricks) and Ko Shih (The Dirtbombs, Ko and The Knockouts) repeatedly yell “SAME BOY!” while Jack is thanking the opening bands the Greenhornes and Clone Defects. 

Isn’t it great when folks request an unreleased song? Kevin would know the song from playing it with the Bricks just three weeks earlier, but even so, the three Stripes performances of the song earlier this year were already enough to embed it into the consciousness of fan/friends in teh crow. And with an “aw shucks” manner Jack responds “You wanna hear ‘Same Boy’? Alright I’ll play that.”

Come the encore of “You’ve Got Her In Your Pocket”, another Stripes live debut that wouldn’t see a studio release for another FOUR YEARS, it all is sweet and dare I say wholesome. With just Jack and the piano, here is a worthy reminder that there’s no such thing as an off performance of “Pocket” as the tender emotion is palpable whenever it was performed and only more so if it was just Jack playing it. 

With Jack asking “What do you want to hear?” it’s worth noting how rare it is to hear him openly take a request, especially in light of already taking one with “Same Boy.” Funnily enough, we don’t hear anyone yell anything in response. At the culmination of a blistering “Broken Bricks” Jack sheepishly gives notice that the gig is over…that he broke a string and that Meg has mono.

“She’s tuckered out…so say a little prayer for her and say a little prayer for yourself” he offers up. Jack didn’t have to say that. No one would have begrudged the band ending the show at that point without any indication as to why no more songs were performed. It was already a decently full set. But the sincerity, the honesty, the essence of “we have given you our all” coupled with a “you are released” sews up this oddity of a show perfectly.

Kroger 9:43pm on a Sunday

Kid

No more than twelve years old

Takes a running start

And jumps

Arms stretched to the heavens

Six inches short

Of the low-hanging security camera

I forgot

That I used to do this too

Usonian Automatic self-titled album

scum stats: this copy is numbered 3/50, though their website lists two different runs of 25 copies each. All lathe cut, these sound fantastic, with hand-written song titles on the jacket. Just how I like it

In the 20+ years of demos being flipped my way, very seldom has something so realized, so thorough, so unified crossed my desk.

Everything offered here by Usonian Automatic is exquisite. The songs, the recording of said songs, the jacket art, the 16 page newsprint insert...this is 100% absolutely worth whatever effort you need to put into securing one. All of it is tied together and, in one way or another, overarchingly influenced by Frank Lloyd Wright. Architecture and music don't really overlap in ways I can easily conjure, so the attempt here is real. It is valid. It is an effort without FEELING like an effort.

The accompanying manifesto is vaguely reminiscent of the White Stripes take in the "De Stijl" liner notes and the song "Nickles & Dimes" is very likely a sample of the drum into to "Jimmy The Exploder" slowed down just barely. All that to say, inspiration in this regard is merely a jumping off point, nothing slavish or pandering considering the perch I'm writing from where I'm hyper-aware of such things. I get Kills "No Wow" guitar vibes and haunted, detached vocals imbue the tracks with an ennui that feels real and not contrived. Some Earth-like arrangements and the "turntable" percussion appropriation all make a genuinely unique and enjoyable connection across otherwise unconnected realms.

Listen to the whole record, really, I don't know how many are left available to purchase from the Bandcamp page (this came out in 2020, for what it's worth) but I definitely make the case here that $65 Canadian is well-spent on this record.

And shit, if you buy it and don't like it, I'll happily trade you equivalent and thensome in TMR goodies so I've got a spare on my shelves. That's how confident I feel about this music. Essential? I think so.

The White Stripes Live at the Magic Stick April 17th, 1999

There are moments, ever so brief, that feel like an entire room has catalyzed and are all

speaking the same language. Even if speaking vaguely or in code, everyone understands fully.

So while I cannot speak for the rest of the 100 or so folks that were at the Magic Stick on April

17th, 1999, I can speak to how *I* felt.

For establishing purposes, exactly 25 years ago, on April 17th, 1999 the White Stripes played in

the middle of a bill with Gore Gore Girls opening and the Compulsive Gamblers headlining. I

was sixteen years old.

Barely a month earlier, it appeared that the White Stripes were done. With their cessation being

reported in the Detroit News, the fact that a DAILY newspaper was covering such underground

countercultural gossip still feels beguiling. Yet in the span of a few weeks, the Stripes had

played a triumphant non-farewell show (March 13th, 1999) and were most definitely soldiering

on, while Jack White’s other current musical concern, the Go, had unceremoniously kicked him

out.

I guess this was relatively big news in the small world of Detroit garage rock. In hindsight, it

seems pretty insignificant. So when the Stripes roll into “Astro” at the tail end of their set and

Jack substitutes in the names of his former bandmates in the Go “Bobby”, “Marc” and “John” as

“do(es) the astro” the feeling in the air, to me, was “oh man, he’s giving it to ‘em.”

To follow it up with the ending verse impromptu singing “Maybe someone has an ego!”

and “Why don’t you do what you want to, girl?” (with what I would interpret as foreshadowing of

future attack-like songs as “There’s No Home For You Here (Girl)” and “Girl, You Have No Faith

In Medicine”) and it all had the allure of an up-to-the-minute newscast, made up in real time, for

the couple dozens friends and scenesters gathered there that evening, all of whom knew the

score.

As the song concluded, you faintly hear a request for the Go song “Meet Me At The Movies” to

which Jack replies on mic “Somebody wanna hear “Meet Me At The Movies?” It’s the wrong

band!”

The Stripes performance, overall, is just so different from any single show they’d ever played

before or would play after. First ever appearances of gems like covers of Iggy Pop’s “I’m Bored”

and Earl King’s “Trick Bag” (done in the style of the Gories) alongside Jack and Meg’s first ever

performance of “The Same Boy You’ve Always Known.” They also cover Brendan Benson’s

“Crosseyed” for seemingly the only time ever with Brendan himself smack dab front and center

watching the proceedings.

Interesting little moments abound…the show-opening “I’m Bored” is quickly scuttled as Meg’s

bass drum pedal snaps. She coordinates a quick replacement with Deb Agolli (drummer for

openers the Gore Gore Girls) that precipitates Jack’s solo take on “Trick Bag”

(For years my recall is that I was up there helping Meg attach the borrowed pedal to her kick

drum. But just now, at this moment, I’m half-thinking that I watched it from the crowd. In my

head, I see Deb, coincidentally wearing red and white, behind the drums with Meg. But I also

see myself crouched down, futzing in the dark, helping Meg. The video of the show conveniently

shows neither myself nor Deb onstage during any of this. There’s a possibility my memories are

lies)

But once all is back up-to-speed, Jack just starts “I’m Bored” from the beginning.

There’s a simplicity to taking the song from the top, an innocence to it, a “we’re gonna do this

right” stick-to-it-iveness that I tend to think most bands would not actually endeavor. Most bands

would just move past it and try to pretend that they never even attempted the song in the first

place, let alone start their set with it.

And that’s just one of many reasons why the White Stripes were objectively great from such an

early point in their career.

Other treats include an early run of “The Big Three Killed My Baby” that does not start with the

trilling three scratches of the guitar. Seemingly every version performed afterwards would start

just like the album recording…with those ominous trills. Jack introduces Meg as his little sister.

Jack also, for the first time we’ve documented, signed off the show with a “My sister thanks you

and I thank you.” Little Easter eggs all of them.

And while there’s no real evidence here to point to proving so, we all know that this is the

evening that Jack White would pay a couple hundred bucks to Compulsive Gambler’s Jack

Yarber for his red Airline guitar that in short order would become an iconic piece of the White

Stripes imagery.

My favorite moment of the entire show unfolds in the middle break of “Astro” where Jack drops a

curveball…

What did the hen dog say to the snake?

No more crawfish in this lake

Just a hair, just a little bit, just a hair, just a little bit

Well what did the woman who came to the side,

one hand on her leg, one hand on her thigh

Good lord, have mercy, good lord, have mercy

This is a slightly altered take on George Johnson’s version of “Jack The Rabbit” as featured in

the 1978 John Lomax film The Land Where The Blues Began. Johnson was a gandy dancer, a

now-obsolete job of manual railroad track maintenance. This is a work song, plain and simple,

Johnson’s repeated lines of “just a hair, just a little bit” actually instructions to the rest of his

crew in regards to which increment or degree they should be adjusting the track. It’s chilling, it’s

got unforced attitude, it’s beautiful.

In sharing this clip with Jack this week, twenty-five years later, he said he had absolutely no

recollection of what it was or where it even came from.

But it felt so familiar, both then and now. Like a nursery rhyme I’d heard my entire life. Like

something EVERYONE had heard their entire life, certainly everyone in the room. Like it was

meant to be there, that it had always been there, and would always be there, smack dab in the

middle of “Astro.” 

The point I’m trying to make is that for these fleeting moments on this night, the demarcation of

stage and floor were largely irrelevant. What was happening wasn’t a band playing for a crowd.

What was happening was a conversation, an education, a therapy, a laugh, a finger-pointing, all

wrapped into one. And so much of it, hell, maybe all of it, happened just that once, seemingly to

be experienced only by those in the room. Fleeting.

So should you give a shit that this is effectively a spruced-up audience recording? Not in the

least. Just sit back and enjoy all the swirling different factors and reactors that melted together

to create a one-of-a-kind evening a quarter of a century ago.

Listen here...https://www.nugs.net/live-download-of-the-white-stripes-the-magic-stick-detroit-mi-04-17-1999-mp3-flac-or-online-music-streaming/36808.html

Ada Richards "I'm Drunk And Real High (In The Spirit Of God)"

Ada Richards 

I'm Drunk And Real High (In The Spirit Of God)

Some weeks will have you questioning the existence of a higher being. I like to think if there is one, they exist in a realm where this song is on loop.

That scream.