Arizona guitar hero Kevin Daly has been playing kick ass music for a very long time. This compilation pays homage to the “great one” with several bands from all over America who have been inspired by, played music with, or have been lucky enough to hang out with Kevin over the years. Personally, I have always been a fan of his and was even fortunate enough to play a few of these songs with him in the past, so I was very excited when I was asked to take a listen and write something about it. 

The CD kicks off with the song “Party with Me” by Chatterbox. The first thing that I thought of when I heard this was “this reminds me of the Devil Dogs.” It’s just a bad ass Rock N’ Rollin tune with great sing-along lyrics. Track three “Clear My Head” by Gerald Collier is an old Hellfire song that will get you running to the liquor cabinet in no time. “Here Kitty Kitty” has always been one of my favorite songs and Garage Shock sure does give it a nice new twist. “Hypnotized” by AL PENZONE aka EL FARO will do just that to you, and War Honey slowed down another personal favorite “Gone” into a pretty sweet blues version with some bad ass solos. 

This CD spans over three decades of music and anyone who is into good old roots rock n’ roll, country, rockabilly or psychobilly should check it out. In fact, I think that this CD should create a whole new pack a rabid Kevin Daly fans for the future. GOD HELP US ALL!!!! Hats off to AL PENZONE for putting this together. Also guys, stay tuned for volumes two and three coming soon!

CHEERS KEVIN!

- Eric Eulogy 

Have you ever wondered what would happen if Cheech and Chong threw a party and invited The Muppets? If Vicente Fernandez did a corrido with Bart Simpson? What if Nacho Libre had a pachanga with Monty Python's Flying Circus? Wonder no more. Behold the mind-product of Justin Valdez.

Three thumbs up for his newest music video "In the Van." We find ourselves, at the start of this short film, just tuning in to Channel 13 Nogales Public Access TV, at the top of the 2 a.m. spot, when Tio Juan's Barrio Fiesta Espectacular comes on in vivid color. Along with videographer Joe Kreidel, a handful of amigos and members of his own family, Valdez features a single from his album Deuce Seven Off Suit. Some may see this short film as just a crazy puppet show, yet others will probe this creative work for deeper socio-political meaning. Maybe it's there, maybe it's not. You decide.

Outrageously corny and deliciously absurd, Valdez uses home-made props, costumes, and his imagination to have fun with old stereotypes and Mexicanismos. These range from the sarape wearing campesino taking a nap on the ground, to an improvisational Jalisco-style hat dance, to a flock of rubber duckies sailing across a table cloth... Wait a minute... Why would rubber duckies moving in a stop-action animation flotilla be anything more than just cute? Only because each little yellow duck is dressed up as... you guessed it!! They are all little Mariachis with a tiny black sombrero and a mariachi outfit! Speaking as a claymation fan who believes that both Gumby and Mr. Bill deserve Academy Awards in the documentary genre, I find Mr. Valdez's short film to be worthwhile both from an artistic and a political standpoint. 

In this, his latest Youtube video, Justin Valdez has captured the spirit of fun and adventure. Even his final visual image of a piñata set on fire is an evocative artistic statement; perhaps not intentionally symbolic, or perhaps an unexpected reference point with deeper existential meaning. Or maybe not. Maybe Justin and his buddies just like setting things on fire. If you were already planning to beat the crap (or should I say the candy) out of a paper mâché animal for entertainment, then there's nothing wrong with setting it on fire I suppose. Artistic statement or juvenile pyromania? You decide. 

Valdez can be at once deceptively, even absurdly simplistic, and yet at the same time, artistically sophisticated. I don't think I am reading too much into this when I say that Valdez has given us pause to consider just who it is that he pokes fun at. Is it Mexicans? Mexican stereotypes? Gringos? Stereotypes Gringos have of Mexicans? Stereotypes of Gringos having stereotypes of Mexicans? Or all of the above? 

On this point, Valdez says he is "not really making fun of one thing or one person specifically, just having a fun time. Besides, isn't that what music is supposed to be?" He adds, “‘In the Van’ is my personal favorite... I wrote it when I was trying to sell my old van." Valdez endorses borrowing from musical influences like “Wooly Bully,” “Land of 1,000 Dances” and “Low Rider.” To that, I say, whatever horchata he is drinking, pass it over, I'll have some too. 

Gringos and Mexicans alike can agree that it's fun to watch this video, whether or not it has any deeper meaning. While Valdez claims that it just is what it is, I postulate that a highly humanistic and subliminally framed political and sociological message exists here, albeit perhaps an unintended one. Maybe Valdez is right, and it's nothing more than what meets the eye. Maybe the film is more than he says it is, and less than I say it is. Maybe we are both right. Watch this music video and then decide for yourself. 

Okay, here is my analysis... I postulate that on some deeper level Valdez's sociological commentary is rooted in a similar creative impulse to that of Chris Rock, or standup comedian and political satirist Lenny Bruce. Recall that in the early 1960's, Bruce spoke up to the political vacuum that followed the US Supreme Court's Desegregation Act which in 1954, made segregation on the basis of race illegal in the United States. Bruce challenged persisting racist cultural hegemony when he stood up in a smoky and crowded nightclub filled with many African American patrons and asked, "Are there any N____rs here tonight?" Lenny Bruce used humor to not only poke fun at cultural stereotypes, but also to tear these stereotypes down. About half a century ago, Bruce predicted that the "N-word" would lose its harmful emotional impact if it could be co-opted and diffused through trivialization and overuse. Half a century later it seems his prediction has come true. I am not saying by any means that Valdez is taking shots at anyone, or that he would disregard the sentiments of any group in particular. On the contrary; he is making us laugh. And by laughter, we can all loosen up, come together, and move forward into the twenty-first Century more free of mental baggage than we might have been without his artistic assistance. 

Such is the powerful effect of political satire to predict and define emerging cultural precepts. In a gentler and less excoriating fashion than what Lenny Bruce proposed, Valdez helps us to laugh at ourselves and our own presuppositions; a laughter that can only help us move forward into a post "White Majority" society. I see this as a good thing. The sooner we all get on the reality bus, the faster we can move forward as a society.

I doubt very much that Valdez is intentionally pursuing any sort of agenda other than to help us all laugh, and if we laugh at ourselves, so much the better. Intended or not, this video short adds to an emerging culture of inclusion, of celebration of difference and a relishing of tradition. Whether he is opening up our minds on purpose or not, it's all therapeutic. And it's fun. After all, no one can subvert the dominant paradigm more effectively than a sock- puppet.

- Lydia G.

When a woman in the audience throws a pair of panties at a male performer on stage I wonder if she planned ahead and brought along an extra pair. Or is this a spontaneous act of self sacrifice, and will she be free-styling her way home that night? It is true we can't know for sure whether panty-throwers plan ahead for coverage. Nor can we know whether the throwers are just kidding around or if they seriously offer undying love through this obscene but heartfelt gesture. The mystery confuses young and old alike. What we do know however, is that admirers of The Outlaw Rebels know good hip swinging action and good music when they see (uh - I mean hear) it.

The Outlaw Rebels are: Big Jim Becker (guitar, vocals), Rad Randy Bowler (lead guitar, vocals), Jammin Jim Wilson (lead vocals and hip action), Dago Red Fed- Federico Pennacchini (slap bass), and Mad Marco Pennacchini (yes, Fed's daddy-on wild monster drums).

The Outlaw Rebels have shared the stage with bands such as The El Camino Royales, Igor and the Red Elvises, The Reverend Horton Heat, Texas Trash and the Hangovers, The Fisters and PsyGoat. In May of 2011, while performing at The Hut with Jason Devore and Alien Jane, The Outlaw Rebels played under their alternate identity band name, The Jim Jams. Members of the Outlaw Rebels overlap with other Tucson bands. For example, Randy Bowler also performs along with Hank Norush, Bob Colvin and Jake Jakerson in Tucson's root rock surfer band The Furies. See The Furies review below.

All of the hip swinging ferocity and outrageous performance antics tend to bely the mild mannered pleasantness and basic human decency of the band members themselves. What panty throwers may not have guessed is that the Outlaw Rebels are polite and introverted gentlemen. The juxtaposition of unbridled sensuality combined with the self control
of technically precise musicianship is one reason these guys have so much style. I wouldn't be surprised if Jim Wilson has both yogic and operatic training. Besides swinging his hips in about 8 or 9 more directions than the average human does, Wilson can really carry a tune. The power, endurance and tenor of his lungs give his organs a fine representation for a hungry and appreciative audience.

And one might say that The Outlaw Rebels sense of humility is laced with just a pinch of bravado. Calling themselves "The Greatest Goddamn Rockabilly Band in the Universe" sets the performance bar pretty high. But the Outlaw Rebels are winning friends and influencing people wherever they go. Self described collectors of "influences from the rockabilly world," The Outlaw Rebels' musical sound is shaped by classic western swing, surf, jazz, punk and country, plus vintage rock and roll. The Outlaw Rebels strive to emulate the tenants of "kickass rockabilly," and have noted on their
Facebook page that their main interests are "drivin hard and fast." They also like leaning over the hood of an old pickup truck and showing us the back pockets of their jeans. To call them exhibitionists would be too far a stretch. These are mild mannered gentlemen of the human decency persuasion, who just happen to cut loose from time to time on stage. They probably all vote, pay taxes and occasionally go to church. So keep those panties under your slacks
ladies. Show a little respect.

All of The Outlaw Rebels persistence, networking and versatility has really grown this local Tucson band up over the past several years. For a small taste of the Outlaw Rebels live performance at Plush Lounge where they competed in this year's Raw awards, check out this clip.

The Outlaw Rebels got my vote, and incidentally, at the show you just saw, they did win the Raw Award, Tucson artist of the year 2012 for music. The Outlaw Rebels will perform in the near future in Los Angeles where they will be competing for the Raw Awards national title. We wish them luck in the big city.

Until then, check them out on Saturday, November 24 from 7:00 pm - 10:00 pm at Nimbus Brewing Co. on on 44th.

- Lydia G.

Throughout the years, Mitch Bateman has gone where the music has called him: from tours across the U.S. and Europe, to the dive bars in Tucson and L.A., or wherever he calls home. And during this time, he has made a lot of friends through talent and personality. Now, Mitch is bringing it all together for his very first radio show.
 
Sponsored by Fat Wreck Chords, and featuring live interviews with Chuck Dukowski of Black Flag, Bobby Steele of the original Misfits, live musical guest Devil's Hoax, and your phone calls, the show will be one-of-a-kind and is already generating a lot buzz in the punk rock community. 

Be sure to tune in on Friday, November 23rd at 4-5 p.m. PST. The show will be streaming live from Mitch's FaceBook page, it can be seen on Adrenaline radio's website http://www.adrenalineradio.com/, and heard on Adrenaline radio station AM 1680 in Los Angeles.

TR&P: Mitch, how did the idea for the show come about, and how did it all come together with such great sponsors, guests and interviews?

MB: I had the idea for a radio show that just played punk, or any other kind of local music with heart. I thought it would be cool to talk with the older generation of guys, like Chuck Dukowski of Black Flag, who I will be talking to on the show Friday. Luckily, I had met him in the past and had actually planned to have Chuck play bass in SEPO (my band), but unfortunately, he had too much going on with Sextet, his current band. As far as support, Fat Wreck Chords became interested after they heard what my show was about. Thanks to them, I am able to give away some cool stuff to fans who call in. Also, I will have (local band) Devil's Hoax playing the show on Friday, November 23rd at 4-5 p.m. PST. The guitarist for Devil's Hoax is also the drummer of SEPO and owns Ill Music Studios, where I record. Plus, it is not confirmed yet, but it looks like Charles Manson may call in with a live San Quentin weather report. 

TR&P: What else do you have in the works? 

MB: I have two new SEPO albums recorded, one released, and a New York tour set-up for late December, early January. I will be playing L.A. a lot within the next couple of months. I also have a side project, "Anti Human Movement," which is me singing and Alex, the singer of DOYLE, Doyle of the Misfits's new band, playing guitar. All of those songs can be found on You Tube by typing Anti Human Movement in the search engine. 

Pre-feminist legend holds that there are some men smart girls grow up to marry, but then there are the men we just love from afar. Al Perry is one such man for me. As I wallow in grief over losing a friend to an evil brain tumor, I turn to Al Perry, the silent type, whose core values system is linked with my own through shared experience. A philosopher musician who has battled his own demons in this lifetime, Al's a knowing listener. Everything he's ever done, he's done the hard way.

Most of you who know Al Perry know him as a local Tucson icon of punk-acoustic musicianship, as a sardonic songwriting talent, a philosophical cowboy who has given new definition to the terms pathos and irony. Early Al Perry songs include the upbeat "Glue Sniffing Revival," the romantic “I Think So Too," and his rockabilly instrumental hit “El Con Malo” (an instrumental take off on the El Con Mall) featuring his band The Cattle. Then there is Al's divinely humorous bitter side, exemplified by songs like "Congratulations, (you may already be a loser).” And while Fish Karma wrote and sings “Die Like a Dog,” Al Perry did a pretty mean cover of this beast in his hootenanny days.

But Al Perry isn't all fun and games. He does documentary short video films too, like his postmodern “Occupy Tucson” and more recently, his reverential “Burnt Cane Road,” an exploration of music and scenery from the 99% folks of the Mississippi Delta. Al is running for president this year on the Republican ticket (really? Jim Nintzel said it, and Rachel Maddow quoted it so it must be true), he has a radio show on KXCI and he writes reviews for the Tucson Weekly.

To truly understand the real Al Perry, it helps to know a little something about Tucson back in the days before cell phones, text messaging and Facebook. In the late twentieth century, when Brits had Margaret Thatcher to complain about, and Americans had Nancy Reagan with her “Just Say No” agenda, the worst thing that could happen to you if a condom broke was an unplanned pregnancy. AIDS did not really exist for us yet and neither did the widespread use of meth, spice or bath salts, which are to the human brain like termites to an old wooden house. In that simpler, more innocent time, we thought LSD, cocaine and marijuana was all there was, and as the MTV empire was born, the Berlin Wall came down, but not of its own accord. The wall came down brick by brick because it was torn down by fearless German youth who gave enough of a crap to make it happen.

What started in Eastern Europe and Great Britain spread in a photon wave of artistic enthusiasm, across the Atlantic Ocean, dissipating much of its political integrity and artistic autonomy along the way, while picking up some weird new twists. What landed in New York and Los Angeles drifted on the wind and sprouted like a magic seed of rebellion right here in the Old Pueblo, where it cross pollinated with Mexican music and emerged into the even more magical sound we have today. The punk and new wave side of the bloodline of these musical seeds came from bands like the Clash, the Sex Pistols, the Ramones, the Dead Kennedy’s, Devo, the B-52’s, the Talking Heads, the Residents and the New York Dolls. These were the bands that mattered, and somebody had to lay the groundwork to weave the sound of then into the sound that is now. Al Perry just happened to be one of those somebodies.

My younger brother Michael and I knew Al Perry as a hero we could look up to. We came of age when the nascent but irresistible punk rock and new wave scene sprouted like mushrooms among the night clubs and weird little shops which dotted the Fourth Avenue and downtown Tucson landscape. In those days, Tucson’s city center was a decrepit wasteland, and Fourth Avenue was known mainly as a place where you could buy great used clothing, organic food, and where hippies congregated to buy and sell pot. Now, downtown Tucson is a decrepit wasteland of torn up streets. And Fourth Avenue has become a place where you can buy great used clothing, organic food, and where college kids go to purchase things that are much worse for your brain than pot. 

Back then, the pedestrian underpass that linked Fourth Avenue with Downtown was much narrower than it is now, and more distinctly urine scented. Hotel Congress existed then, but wasn’t the hipster Mecca that it is now. And they didn't have great food then. The Rialto Theater was boarded up and haunted. Before that, the Rialto was alleged to have been a trashy porn palace. The Chicago Store and Wig-o-Rama were pretty much where they are now, because apparently wigs and guitars never go out of style. Most of the rest of downtown is completely different now. Apart from the new streetcar rail (which is going to be cool once it's done and once there are sufficient warning signs to protect bicyclists), downtown is now safer and cleaner than it once was, while managing to be equally interesting.

So lawless and desolate a place was downtown Tucson in those days, it was possible to skateboard the streets and sidewalks with impunity. Law enforcement was more of a suggestion than an actual fact, and a young person didn't need to be twenty-one to get into a bar. Eighteen was the legal drinking age, and if you were sixteen, reasonably polite, had a fake ID, and parents who were not paying close attention, you could get in to the bars. But it wasn't the booze we were there for. It was the music. 

Pearls Hurricane Bar existed in those days, as did Tumbleweeds and the Night Train. Records were made of vinyl and places to buy them were The Record Room, Zips and Al Bum's 1. Amidst this romantic backdrop there were the bands: the River Roses, the Phantom Limbs, Green on Red, Giant Sand Worms (Howe Gelb's precursor band to Giant Sand -some of who later split off and formed Calexico). There were cool bands from LA like X and many others. All these were part of the Tucson scene. 

Al's influence was subtle, and off stage he was not an outspoken personality, but he always held sway. In those days, Al looked, to me, like a sophisticated older man, working behind the desk at the Hotel Congress, while holding the keys of Tucson’s musical culture in his hand. He seemed to know everyone who was worth knowing, and a few who probably weren't. An underground hipster musician, a man of few words, Al Perry was desk clerk by day, rock star by night. Tall and lanky, handsome and quirky, his broad smile could fill a room with sunshine, and his coppery blond hair had just a little bit of natural curl. 

Al befriended my brother, an aspiring punk rock musician at the time, and introduced him musically to Johnny Cash. Before Michael met Al Perry, there were no Johnny Cash records in our house. We had my dad’s Grateful Dead records, my mom’s Beatles and all kinds of folk music left over from my parents' hippy college days. Post Perry, the punk and new wave records and the Johnny Cash records hit our house via my brother right about the same time. Johnny Cash was a master. His sound was incomparable. He had craftsmanship; he had a message; he had it all. There is a way to weave that concentration and spirituality together so that your message, if you do have one, and you should, can reach people where they live, and bring them back home to their true inner selves. 

Al Perry has taken the reaching out part seriously, but the bringing it back home to himself he has sort of overlooked, due to some peculiar personality trait I will call humility, possibly self effacement. There is a consistent underselling of self that is possibly the hallmark of Al Perry’s unique school of relentless artistic autonomy. He hasn’t just tried to steer clear of overproduction, slickness, and marketability, he has outright rejected the slightest possibility of selling himself anywhere to anyone under any circumstances. It’s as if he has something against being rich and famous. It's as if his commitment to obscurity and invisibility trumps any other core value, besides perhaps intelligence and authenticity. Al Perry has proven that if you really try, you can be an incredibly good musician and still remain practically unknown among the very youth whose musical culture you have painstakingly built from the ground upwards. 

Even back then, as a young man, Al had a lot of mystery surrounding him. How he came up with his songs and the way that he played them. His unique brand of clever irony and iconoclastic self-deprecatory philosophical musings were unknown to ordinary people like me. My brother once told me, when we were both still teenagers, that Al Perry used to drink eight or nine pots of coffee a day while working at Hotel Congress. I imagined that this couldn't possibly be true, and from a cardiac perspective it just makes no sense that someone could drink that much coffee and still be alive. And yet here he is; living proof that the rules of normal human physiology can be broken and people can live to tell about it. What I didn't know about Al Perry back in those days, I still don't know now. He's not a big fan of revealing himself to others, even to those he counts among his closest acquaintances. He's not much of a talker, but he's a pretty good listener. He is irony, pathos, self effacement, self knowledge and self critic. Nothing he does is ever good enough for him. 

We don't get second or third chances to live life all over again. In my dreams, I am still a young girl of seventeen whose devious use of a fake ID has procured entrance into amazing dens of sound. In moments of silent reverie, I can still see Al Perry, the lanky strawberry blond cowboy with his humble mannerisms, his amazing grin and his pots of coffee, placidly working his way through the day behind the front desk of the Hotel Congress, or strumming his acoustic guitar under a sparkling spotlight. The grin is still there, the red hair and the sense of humor persist, and the lanky cowboy strums a guitar under a spotlight that remains the same. 

Let a younger generation of artists, philosophers and musicians know you Al. Don’t deprive America’s youth of the message of cowboy simplicity and iconoclastic antiestablishmentarianism that you represent. We need you more than ever Al, perhaps not as the next President of the United States, but definitely as a Cowboy Punk Folk Hero Philosopher. We need you more than ever. 

1 Howard Salmon (2005) print compilation SLIT FANZINE & TUCSON'S NEW MUSIC SCENE 1980 -1981, Howard Salmon Publisher, www.howardsalmon.com

-Lydia G.

Photos by Micki Hernandez 

What Tucson-based, retro-surf punk band captures the meaning of death in a way that brings life back to The Old Pueblo? Which band grasps the cultural importance of the weird, the bizarre, the demented and the fun? Who puts the nouveau back into new wave, making creepiness their mission statement? The Mission Creeps, that's who. Tucson's the place that brought you the original Pills and The Phantom Limbs. Of course Tucson would be the birthplace of the imaginative Mission Creeps.

The Creeps' artistic core is comprised of James Arrr, who is in charge of lead guitar and vocals, and the sultry, sporty and elegantly detached Miss Frankie Stein on bass guitar. The addition of Karen Meanie Mahina on keyboard and Scary Terry Kyte on percussion brings an extra touch of creepiness that really allows this band to assume dominion over the stage and the audience as well. The Mission Creeps played at Fourth Avenue's Surly Wench Pub this past Thursday, October 11, as a a fund raiser for the annual Dia de Los Muertos All Soul's Procession.

The Mission Creeps possess a David Byrne, Talking Heads-style quirkiness that I especially appreciate in an era of boring overproduced popular music. They bring a unique mixture of vintage film-noire hokiness layered upon a more "traditional" alt-indi surf-punk modus that Tucson is known for. Ambiance is their thing too. A black and white cameo film appearance of the corpulent super-vixen Divine (H Glenn Milstead), of John Water's 1972 transgressive black comedy exploitation film Pink Flamingos, appears momentarily overhead on the stage backdrop as the Mission Creeps play a song somehow related to to the topic of meat. Here the lovely Devine is caught in the act (almost) of committing perhaps the most lewd supermarket crime ever captured on film. Nice touch, I thought. In addition to those few famous "meat market moments" (not the really good part, just a few contemplative moments leading up to it) of performance art by Devine, the AV overhead cinematic parallel universe projector device also brought us some cool footage of the recent audio recording of paranormal activity at the Oliver House.

As if the event were not interesting enough, there was also face painting being offered and many of the staff and patrons sported really super nice deadly skeleton features as they went about their business being staff and patrons of Surly Wench Pub. Those of us who anticipate having a sweaty time whenever dance music is being offered took a pass on the face paint. In my case I'm glad I did, because the music moved me around in such a way that I was a slick mess of perspiration within minutes. The danceability quotient of the Mission Creeps is quite high, making them one of my favorite local bands from now on. Thank you Mission Creeps for being quirkadelic and creepy in a good way.
If you missed the Zombie Walk last Saturday, don't freak out, stay calm. The Mission Creeps are scheduled to play Plush this Friday, October 19th, then Surly Wench on the following Friday, October 26th, and some other places which are nice and obscure. Stay tuned to the Mission Creeps upcoming Creep Missions at missioncreeps.com.

-Lydia G.