Blogs

Here in America, we enjoy more personal freedoms than most countries. We can say what we want (provided we don't swear on network TV or radio), do what we want (provided we're not one of these people who wants to marry someone of the same sex), and go where we want (provided where we want to go isn't already owned by the government).

We here at Rocks Off love our country, and we want to show it via a playlist you can blast at your 4th of July cookout. We can think of no better way to celebrate the Declaration of Independence than with our favorite thing about America: rock and roll.

Welcome back to Five Spot. Every Friday, we'll examine a recent bit of music news and, sometimes awkwardly, tie it to a bit of Houston rap. It's five videos and occasional cussing. Send tips to introducingliston@gmail.com.

Last week we wrote about ESG's Ocean of Funk, which spiraled into an email conversation with several different regular emailers/local rappers (and Matt Sonzala) about the 20 greatest Houston rap albums of all time. That's the "recent bit of news" that we're going to use to segue into a discussion about Lil' Keke's Don't Mess Wit Texas. How self-indulgent are we?

Lil' Keke has been underrated for his entire career. Even when "Southside" made him a regional superhero back in 1997-98, it was the wrong type of fame. "Southside" managed to be both conventional (neighborhood-specific shout outs, car talk, etc.) and unconventional (minimal trunk rattling capabilities, high pitched piano work) at the same time. It was incredibly instinctive.

You didn't want to dance when it came on; you had to dance. And it caught fire so fast that a lot of people who didn't normally listen to "that" type of music were listening to it. So when the immediate charm of it wore off (before it settled into the "this song should be universally respected and recognized as a watershed moment in Houston rap" category a few years later), those people seemed to automatically disregard the rest of the album. That's the wrong type of fame.

If you're celebrating independence from a lot of money this Fourth of July weekend, believe us, Rocks Off feels your pain. If you can pry yourself away from the barbecue pit, here's a few other things to do that won't cost much.

Friday

Grrrl Parts and Dave Wrangler glam it up at Boondocks. Free.

James Hyland of the South Austin Jug Band steps out for a solo date at the Continental Club with Rockabilly filly Rosie Flores. $10.

Chelsea Hotel and the Ginslingers rock the suburbs at the brand-new Trash Bar in Humble.

There's always Classic Numbers...

Saturday

Beaumont boy Clay Walker, R&B smoothies the Chi-Lites and Delfonics, and locals Mango Punch!, Low Man's Joe and Norma Zenteno open for the fireworks at the City of Houston's annual Freedom Over Texas festival in Eleanor Tinsley Park. Free.

Craig Hlavaty

Who would have ever imagined just a little over a week ago that Houstonians would be convening on the lush confines of Discovery Green to learn to do the "Thriller" dance? Or in the sweltering dog days of July for that matter? The dance seems way more like a Halloween affair than anything else.

But a week ago Michael Jackson, the King of Pop, was still shuffling around this mortal coil with the rest, albeit in a much more sedated and euphoric state than most. The guy seems to get even more interesting as the details of his private life are publicly sorted out. Who would have known that his drug intake would make Keith Richards blush?

A week to the day that the King of Kings took the King of Pop home to the big dance studio in the sky, Dance Houston put on a "Thriller" dance clinic to honor the world's fallen idol. Families and amateur steppers converged on the grass to learn each little step of the dance.

Rocks Off can't help but think the city would be all that more magical with random dance clinics popping up everywhere. Hell, it is exercise after all, and the whole country has been forever telling us how chubs we all are around the Bayou City in numerous "Fattest City" countdowns. The least we could do is learn a few wicked moves in the process of losing some poundage.

Our minds our ablaze with ideas now that we know how many people will brave the late day heat just to dance. We have always had a soft spot for Grease in our dark hearts so we wouldn't mind a little "Born To Hand Jive" action from time to time.

When Patrick Swayze finally gets that job cracking skulls in the eternal "Road House", we will be on the Green waiting to do some dirty dancing with a Baby of our own, albeit with a good fifth of firewater in our bellies.

Let's just hope that the "Macarena" stays firmly implanted in '90s where it belongs.

Big Sir Junior

Super Live

Zam Records

Recorded during live sessions at Houston's Jet Lounge in early 2006, Big Sir Junior's debut release shows the power of three accomplished musicians firmly in their element. Local bassist Rozz Zamorano (Fondue Monks, Yoko Mono, Rozz Zamorano Trio) recruited former Houstonian Chris Young (guitar) and New York-bred drummer Jano Rix specifically for the sets, which drew both hardcore jazz aficionados and newbies alike.

Being among the latter, what Rocks Off remembers most from the set is the trio's seemingly free-form chops. Obviously, the group knew what it was playing but like the best jazz musicians they meander their way around the songs - noodling a bit at times - eventually meeting up for the inevitable big finish. Throughout the album's six songs, Zamorano again proves why he continues to earn the Press' "Best Bassist" nominations, and Young and Rix seem at ease with their less pressurized environments (both are long-time session players).

Craig Hlavaty

For a thirsty crowd looking to begin their Independence Day weekend in earnest, there was no better place to be last night than Walter's off Washington.

As of late, there has been a swelling resurgence in the earthy tones and folk-carnie vibe of bands like The Band. One could blame the repeated airings of The Last Waltz on VH1 Classic, or maybe it's just that the style is too damned alluring for a group of musicians to not try to at least perfect for their own musical journey. We have them here in Houston, with folks like tonight's openers News On the March literally chiming their live shows away with vintage Helmsian shimmer.

Other Lives have somehow melded that woodland vibe with the pleading plinking of a Radiohead. The comparison is not a new one; the Stillwater, Oklahoma-based band has been hearing that from indie blogs the world over after their breakthrough dates at this years South by Southwest in Austin. We remember catching a snippet of them once or twice while we were lost in that musical maelstrom and now we are sad we didn't stop and breathe them in.

Indian Jewelry, "Seasonal Economy"

At its gnarliest, Houston's Indian Jewelry reminds Friday Night Noise of that brief period a few years back where James Toth was transitioning away from being part of being the "Wooden Wand" part of the "Wooden Wand and the Vanishing Voice" equation, towards the "serious, for-real singer-songwriter" dimension he now occupies. We're thinking of Harem of the Sundrum (Soft Abuse) specifically - a clutch of distorted noise-folk dispatches from an exodus in the desert, or so it sounded.

Toth still sounded like a unorthodix, peyote-popping preacher, but while on his own introduced a welcome structure to his songwriting, which set it apart from the general WW&VV aesthetic of getting ripped, jamming aimlessly for hours, then editing the results into oodles of super-limited edition ephemera.

Anyway, Indian Jewelry are on a similar journey, except that their shit's either really burlap rough or really lo-fi spacious.

America's Independence Day is this weekend, where we salute the courage of our forefathers with controlled aerial explosions and small grease fires in our backyards. Nobody likes a silent holiday, so we found some album covers with plenty of American spirit, which illustrate in no uncertain terms why the words "patriotic" and "tasteful" are so rarely found together.

We've been advised by our legal department not to tell you the rules of our newly-invented Patriotic Album Cover Drinking Game, so all we will say is: we need to lie down right now. While we do that, check out the slideshow here.

For the past 15 years, the Vans Warped Tour has been barreling through city after city across the globe creating punk rockers out of boy scouts and riot grrls out of band geeks.

The traveling punk, hardcore and emo road show has been coming to Houston since 1995. The first taste local punks got of founder Kevin Lyman's tour was at the AstroArena, starring such future luminaries as No Doubt, Sublime and the Deftones, along with members of the old guard like Sick Of It All and L7.

Everyone who is a veteran Warped attendee, even of they only went once, has a story to tell. Most involve baking on the concrete of the Astrodome complex and getting awful sunburns, but generally having your musical universe expanded. For kids who weren't yet old enough to inhabit clubs like Fitzgerald's, the Abyss or Instant Karma, the Warped Tour was an easy all-in-one way to meet folks like you and discover new bands along the way.

J. Garland McKee

Laughin' With 'Em: Southern Negro Humor in Dialect (Americana Recording, 1969)

Amos & Andy. Stepin Fetchit. Aunt Jemima. Jar Jar Binks. American history is littered with people and characters who have found success by exploiting African-American stereotypes. Meet the Rev. J. Garland McKee - humorist, minister, negro impersonator. From the liner notes:

"Possessing a warm, merry heart and a genuine sense of humor himself, J. Garland McKee has long been most appreciative for the contribution the southern negro had made to his own life with their delightful, natural humor."

I see. But how did Mr. McKee become such an expert in negro humor?

"Born and reared in the heart of the Mississippi Delta in Greenville, Mississippi, Mr. McKee has been closely acquainted with many negro people since early childhood."

Oh, ok. I bet some of his best friends were black!