It is a little before 9 on Saturday night west of Casa Grande. Saturday night at the Francisco Grande Resort, in the Franny Granny Lounge, to be exact. There are five people in the place, swilling drinks and dragging on cigarettes after a day of golf, which makes perfect sense,…
If you think Compton is nothing more than a wasteland of juiced-up hustlers and pimps, a breeding ground for the latest batch of gun-boasting, ho-smackin’ gangsta rappers, you’re dead wrong. Coolio is proof. With his chart-topping debut album, It Takes a Thief, Coolio takes listeners on a streetwise trip that’s…
Dead Hot Workshop River Otis (Seed/Atlantic) You know about Dead Hot Workshop. You’ve heard ’em, you’ve seen ’em. It’s the band most likely to succeed the Gin Blossoms as Tempe’s top pop export. Indeed, many would argue that Dead Hot was the best band on Mill Avenue back before the…
Tiny, Tony and Company Tiny Tim Mason Jar November 8, 1994 Tiny Tim stepped gingerly onstage (he’s nearly 70, mind you), his short, chubby body filling out a suit fashioned entirely from cloth printed with sheet music. He flashed his expansive, tooth-filled grin that is either depraved or endearing, his…
It’s called Cactus Rose Theater now, but old-timers surely will remember it as the Kiva, a pornographic video store and movie theatre that embarrassed the bejesus out of the surrounding tourista emporiums in Old Town Scottsdale. Now, however, the room is bright, cheery. There’s a sparkling little snack bar and…
Various Artists Baywatch (Scotti Bros.) How many of you out there think of music when you think of Baywatch? Liars! ‘Fess up–it’s boobs and buns and bronze skin, defying gravity in the California sun, that you’ve got on yer mind! Superfox Pamela Anderson may chirp “watch my water!” at one…
Vince Neil is a man who’s had some good times. He was the front man for one of the biggest bands of the Eighties, pop-metal superstuds Motley Crue. The Crue sold tons of albums, Vince married a statuesque ex-stripper named Sharisse, made tons of money, and partied like there was…
BeauSoleil L’Echo (Forward/Rhino) Cajun music is a curious beast. At times it can make for a glorious jolt to the soul. Other times it can be annoying as hell. BeauSoleil is a bit of both on L’Echo, a collection of old-timey Cajun cover songs. The good stuff is the same…
What’s funny? High-density theories on the nature of humor have clogged the arteries of many a fathead. Henri Bergson thought humor resulted when human behavior began to resemble the predictable repetition of machines, while Sigmund Freud saw humor as sublimated aggression. Of course, Henri and Siggie were infamous for their…
Tom Jones The Lead and How to Swing It (Interscope) For millions of females over the last several decades, Tom Jones has been a seething, pulsating mass of unbridled sexuality, the consummate stud with a throat of leather. For millions of others, he has been the ultimate camp joke with…
No One Cares, Frank Sinatra (1957) Chilling, Thrilling Sounds of the Haunted House (1964) 70’s Hits: Great Hits of the Decade, Volume 1, original artists Let’s Be Together Today, Mister Rogers (date unknown) Thriller, Michael Jackson (1982) Six Feet Deep, Gravediggaz (1994) Petrifying Premise That a man can score as…
So there I was driving down Van Buren on my way to work, mind numb as usual, when I saw it. It was huge. It was grinning. It nearly made me lose control of my vehicle. It was Linda McCartney. Well, a billboard with her picture on it, but still–what…
No doubt it’s a bit late in the game to begin a Gin Blossoms story with the headline “Local Band Makes Good.” The saga of the Tempe quintet–from the early days at Mill Avenue beer joints through the tours and Letterman appearances to the suicide of Doug Hopkins last December…
Laurie Anderson’s latest is more of what she does most. She’s again putting out experimental, highbrow hoo-ha, spewing words in big spaces between beats. Occasionally, she’ll try to force a melody, and it almost works on the almost American gothic “Muddy River,” one of Bright Red’s better cuts. Other times,…
Kiss in Our Time The world’s greatest–or dumbest–rock ‘n’ roll band refuses to die. Pucker up, buttercup. By Serene Dominic When intellectual punk Paul Westerberg led the Replacements through a halfhearted cover of “Black Diamond” on Let It Be, it opened the floodgates for other alternative bands to finally come…
Marsha Genensky’s heard the question before, and she’ll no doubt hear it again. In fact, the leader of Anonymous 4–the chart-topping, all-female medieval choral quartet–is hearing it again right now: Can she possibly explain the continued and apparently limitless success of the Gregorian-chant music made by the monks of Santo…
It is Sunday as I write this, and when I stepped out of my house at the crack of noon, I found more than just the Arizona Republic waiting for me. There was a roll of toilet paper in a plastic bag hanging from my doorknob. (Wickeder wags than me…
In 1955, Allen Ginsberg came like a banshee into the public eye with his poem “Howl.” Filled with rage, honesty and raunchiness, the work immediately brought down the guillotine of U.S. censorship and made him a hero of the poetic underground. In the late Forties, Ginsberg–along with pals Jack Kerouac,…
Gary Martin’s eyes are getting big again. They tend to do that when Martin shows off his music collection. He’ll point with passion at familiar recordings from the classic-rock era. He’ll wave his arms and give pithy sermons on the merits of fusion-jazz titles from the early Seventies. Gary Martin’s…
He’s got those little round glasses, that soaring tenor and a knack for hooky melodies that could choke a whale. Way back in the early Eighties, critics slobbered all over him for the pure pop magnificence of his debut album, Marshall Crenshaw. And if you haven’t guessed the identity of…
It is the year 2029, and old Mr. Wibly is attic-bound again. This time he’s trying to jump-start his dusty Gerard turntable with a digital microchip AC converter he bought at Radio Shack. “Goddamn those Tandy people! Don’t they ever make anything that works?” he grumbles, just as grandson Kyle…
It was 10:40 p.m., and still no sign of any aging Kiss fans sporting painted cat faces. Nor would there be, but then again, maybe the sight of 35-year-old guys with beer guts and Kiss tee shirts should have been spectacle enough for one night. And judging by reactions to…
