Recently I attended the Wide Load Festival at The Eagle Tavern. It was a two day event in the new tradition set by the first live music event the bar hosted a few months back after ownership changed, The Hole In The Wall-apalooza. With it’s second foray into presenting a multi-band rock and roll bill for the bars patrons, The Eagle, under the knowledgeable guidance of DJ/Guitar God/recording engineer/Bartender/Organizer Doug Hilsinger, threw together two consecutive nights of music featuring over 12 different bands, all for free. I missed the Friday night installment of Wide Load because I had to D.J. at The Hole in The Wall but it reportedly went very well. High points included The Hall Flowers, an acoustic trio featuring the sisters Hall, who are the rhythm section and voices of Ovarian Trolley, joined by their mother. I really wanted to see them but they play around town occasionally. Another featured band on Friday night was Planet Seven, whose debut LP, Pleasurecraft Recovery Theme , was merely a promise fulfilled after hearing the well-crafted bitchin surf-style bent of their first two seven inch singles. Their mostly instrumental stance hits like a sublime wash on the sand as opposed to that shoot-the-tube gonzo bikini-go go dancers in the sand type of surf music. They sound less like Dick Dale and more like The Ventures but without any Wipe-outs. Instead, a strange array of contemporary effects and influences and a sense of humor come into play as well as slower lilting subtleties. Their version of Lara’s Theme from the film Dr. Zhivago is a brilliant example of the bands tongue-in-cheek humor matching an intoxicating aural quality. Then from the freezing siberian tundra Planet Seven can whip you right down into a ripping mexican ode to beer called Cerveza that does actually bring Mr. Dale to mind. Buy their record. Their set was reportedly good on night one of the wide load fiesta but I’ll have to catch them at a later date.
Saturday Night I arrived just as it was getting dark outside and the band onstage when I walked in was called Glamtastic, a T-Rex cover band, featuring many people I know but had no idea that they ever played an instrument, along with members from other featured bands of the night, as well as a couple of good-natured singers, tambourine players, and friends adding in their handclaps and would-be harmonies. It was a loose and fun tribute that had me alternately laughing or tapping my foot. Next up was a three piece band called Cellophane Solution and I didn’t get much background information on them and I couldn’t have picked three more disparate looking individuals making up a band, a beefy skinhead-looking guy, a thin white guy w/dreads and a drummer with a decidedly retro 70’s rocker dude permed hair thing going on. Together they created a sort of twisted yet engaging fast-paced punk rock sound with nice blunt lyrical messages like “I don’t want to be your friend anymore,” and a funny cover of “Margaritaville,” which I could’ve done without. Don’t get me wrong though, they were very good and their set maintained my interest thoroughly.
After their set I ran into Gary Floyd, formerly of The Dicks, Sister Double Happiness, The Gary Floyd Band, etc. and he introduced me to a guy saying, “This is my guitarist,” and I suddenly remembered that one of the main reasons I had come to the Eagle that night was to catch the debut of Gary’s new band, Black Kali Ma, which was two sets away, giving me time to run home for a bite to eat, check into the roster at The Transmission Theater to find out what time the band Deadbolt was due on stage at the Incredibly Strange Wrestling event being held there because I always wanted to see this spooky surf/rockabilly act who put out hilarious, verging on novelty records and claim to be the scariest band alive, make a phone call or two to a couple friends who wouldn’t want to miss this, then dash back to the Eagle in time to catch the debut of Gary Floyd’s Black Kali Ma. Deadbolt was due onstage at 1:30, got my hand stamped thanks to Damien at the door of the Transmission who really makes life simple on many occasions, and I zipped back to the Eagle just as Gary’s band was hitting stage. Photographer Marc Geller and fellow scribe Adam Block breezed in just on time also, tipped off by my call. I love it when things go like this.
What I love even more is Gary Floyd onstage fronting a hard-rocking outfit like this new configuration, still burning with all the frontman finesse, conviction, power and that salt-of-the-earth blues wail that chose most often to say so much even back before it was de riguer for every chart-hungry success story, every third eye blind, to bear a social consciousness. Gary has always had a lot to say, about gayness, AIDS, poverty, politics, etc., and Black Kali Ma’s material proved that he still does and he’s back full force, his band bristling with a strength and edge that was surprisingly tight and effective for this act’s debut. While keeping subject matter up to date with songs like “Angel Face,” about the many schoolyard killings spilling blood all over our television time, Black Kali Ma quite cleverly updated and included a couple of classic Dicks selections throughout their set like “Sidewalk Begging” and the unforgettable and so smart to be re-vamped right now, “Dicks Hate The Police,” which fittingly closed their first ever set with a hell of an ass-kicking in the right direction–anger can empower, not just embitter. This was fresh. Watch for more gigs by Black Kali Ma–this feels almost as good as it gets, and it’s just getting started.
Next up was DJ Crisco’s three-piece band, The New Lows, for which he plays drums and I listened to their entire set swell from a rather mild beginning to a driving, kinetic powerful garage-y groove. They just got better and better, prompting an automatic head-bobbing involvement that was effortless and self-propelled. I really liked The New Lows who showed much improvement over their previous appearance at The Eagle a few months back. Before I knew it, it was time to run over to the Transmission to catch Deadbolt, who had just taken the stage as I walked in. They were pretty good and definitely funny but I wasn’t sure if it was because of the nature of the Incredibly Strange Wrestling bill they were playing or what, but there was this really strong antagonism between band and audience, much throwing of plastic cups and “fuck yous” from the crowd, idle threats from the band, etc., and it got a bit tired so I quickly found myself back at The Eagle, down in front for Doug Hilsingers 70’s cover bandThe Freedom Rockers, doing a great version of “We’re An American Band.” This was a much better far more enjoyable vibe than standing around in a crowd of mostly heterosexual yahoos acting out the bad behaviors learned from watching too much Shock Talk television programming. A good vibe was the prevailing thought about the Wide Load Festival as it drew to a close. What an array of really great bands who played merely for what money was collected by passing a hat, which meant everyone walked with about $15 bucks and likely a higher blood/alcohol level than they arrived with.The best thing about the event though was the unignorable feeling that a new tradition is most definitely being set and you can look forward to more similar events in the future at The Eagle Tavern, and that’s all good.
Here I’ve gone and used up all my space on a lesser known and wholey satisfying event and failed to concentrate at all on The Gay and Lesbian Bisexual Transgender Pride Parade and Celebration, which gave one of the aforementioned bands, The New Lows, a run for their namesake. Sorry, but between strolling by the Macy’s and Thierry Mueggler booths, watching careless planning on all levels make false entertainment claims then boot some of our brightest most giving local acts off the main-stage roster, it’s no wonder that my disappointed companion and I ended up cutting out early and painting the bathroom at home. The best thing about the big Gay weekend were the stickers made up by my fellow DJ Brian at The Hole, which boasted a Rainbow colored dollar sign and said, “Shakin’ it up, shakin’ us down, selling us out.” Thanks Brian, that pretty much said it all. Is it time for change or what?