Crib Notes

For today’s installment of Roll Call we call out Bobby Ubangi.

Who are you?
Bobby Ubangi of the Gaye Blades and the Soft Spots

Describe yourself in three words.
Knowing, growing and showing

Who — dead or alive — would you most like to meet?
B. Kliban.

Who would you most like to slap in the face?
Sarah Palin

What song do you wish you had written?
“Little Red Book” by Love

Elvis Costello or Elvis Presley?
Fucking… the Pres.

LP, CD or MP3?
Laser disc.

If you could start one trend, what would it be?
Utilikilts

If you could end one trend, what would it be?
UtiliKilts

With whom would you most like to play a game of spin the bottle?
9 to 5-era Dolly Parton with Jane Fonda watching.

Bobby Ubangi M.C.’s the Atlanta Mess-Around Festival at The Earl this weekend (Fri., Nov. 14th-Sat., Nov. 15th). Two day passes are available for $20. Tickets are $12 at the door.

(Photo by King Khan)

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Over the last decade the ghostly garage punk band the Spooks have haunted Atlanta’s clubs, terrorizing audiences with spectral sounds, and often times dousing onlookers with gallons of blood and severed animal limbs.

The phantasmal five-piece materializes mostly around Halloween to rattle their chains and unleash an unholy cacophony of haunted house rock and roll, usually dressed in tattered white sheets. No one knows who they are or why their unquiet and spirits still linger on earth. Their connection to Atlanta bands the Black Lips, the Kiwis and Baby Dinosaurs vs. Extinction are not clear — aside from the Die Slaughterhaus Records logo that marks their debut LP, Death From beyond the Grave.

The album’s 3-D cover art seals a Pandora’s box of echo-heavy rock, disembodied moans and sinister cackles and Theremin squiggles that emanate from somewhere beyond the realm of the living. … and the songs, “Ceremonial Death March,” “California Boys” and “Now I’m Gonna Steal Your Soul” spell out the ghoulish M.O. that drives their beach blanket blood bath sound with horrific clarity.

To put it plainly, the Spooks are a band of evil spirits who roam the earth and posses the bodies of local musicians to play their songs. Rumors abound that they will materialize at the Star Bar on Halloween night to celebrate the release of Death From Beyond the Grave.

Despite warnings from all who have encountered these ghastly ghouls I sought them out. A few failed attempts to summon them on a Ouija board went by, but they made their presence known in a séance that gripped me with fear in the former New Street Gallery in Avondale. After a few ill-advised taunts the planchette darted violently from letter to letter, spelling the answers to my questions. Soon enough their earth-bound hosts materialized before me in a haze of dense smoke and reverb.

I am duty bound not to reveal the names of the bodies of the living whom they inhabit, out of fear of exorcism. But after some coaxing they agreed to an interview…

Can you tell me your names?

Spook1-2: No!
Spook3: Where we’re from there is no need for names.
Spook4: Bodies are temporal things anyway, they just come and go. A spirit is an eternal form.
Spook5: We didn’t write these songs anyway. We channeled them. Beethoven was decomposing and we stole his sheet music.

How did you die?

Spook1: In various attrocious ways.

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On the evening of Thursday, October 16th, the Black Lips plus Die Slaughterhaus Records owner Mark Nauman took the stage at the Earl to resurrect the now legendary Renegades — the short-lived, pre-Black Lips incarnation … the one that earned them the rowdy reputation that kept them off of most stages in town for a long long while.

The group appeared onstage after sets from opening bands Jack of Hearts, Goodnight Loving and Stolen Minks.

After giving a shout to their original drummer Bradley Harris, who died from an accidental overdose a few years back, Jared announced “the last time I played these songs I could not grow facial hair.”

This was the first time the Renegades’ name had even been uttered in town for nearly a decade.

If not for the one and only sleeveless and posthumous 7-inch the group released via Die Slaughterhaus a few years ago there would be nothing more than rumors and exaggerated memories to prove that the band ever even existed.

At the show Nauman threw handfuls of generic-looking old Renegades cassette tape recordings into the audience, but they were snatched up just as quickly as they flew through the air. A few tapes even clashed against in-coming beer cans and geysers of beer spray erupting from the tumultuous crowd.

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Last week Dry Ink Magazine posted a video piece that documents the final show at Rob’s House in East Atlanta before the label’s founder Trey Lindsay moved to New York. The video features interviews and segments of performances by Carbonas, Gentleman Jesse, the Black Lips. Drunken chatter from all of the above punctuates a marathon of interviews conducted by Tom Cheshire of All Night Drug Prowling Wolves.

The video does a good d job of capturing the mood (and the heat) of the last show there before handing the reigns over to the Danger House crew.

The video can be seen here.

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Last night Brontez from the Bay Area band Gravy Train responded via Myspace to my earlier post about his “She’s Over It” column in Maximum Rock and Roll calling Jared Swilley of the Black Lips a racist. I don’t think he liked it. Be warned, it is long and full of objectionable language.

Subject: you gotta lot of nerve fat man……

Body:

its lucky for you that i can’t post this on your website so i guess ill just have to settle for you.

FUCK YOU. First of all the reason i didn’t initially respond to you email for a comment Mr. Radford is that i figured that you were friends with Jared and would defend his fucked up behavior AND I WAS RIGHT. My MAIN problem with this article is that it presents us as ALL hanging out telling racist jokes TOGETHER and THEN Funx got all hurt AND THAT IS NOT THE CASE. If you had read my article you would know that the reason we are upset is because Funx was the ONLY ONE UP when 5 white boys SHE DIDN’T KNOW (Jared included)verbally attacked her and said some serious racist shit. Even if i were to entertain the whole “they were just joking” explanation (which i fucking won’t) what gives five white boys the authority to “joke” like this with a Latina women they don’t know? thats scary and fucked up. I don’t give a fuck how many black people Jared is friends with or that he grew up in black churches (i grew up in black churches too bitch-so what?)It obviously didn’t teach him shit if he thinks it’s cool to behave like this. I didn’t even print to worst of what he said (i.e. shit like how he thinks the south should have won the Civil War-wow Jared did you learn that in black churches too?). Shame on you Mr Radford, what do you have invested in defending this fucked upness? You paint us in this article as humorless PC whiners-AS FUCKING IF. We aren’t humorless- we just don’t laugh at shit that ain’t funny. Five white boys (two who were there from the start of the night-Jared and some fat boy-and three that came out of nowhere) corner this lone girl, read her to filth, and you Radford think that this is perfectly fine and even go so far as to co-sign on this behavior in this article. The thing about racists is most are never going to admit to it. Duh. I grew up in Alabama and have seen it ALL honey. i even knew racists that had mixed race kids. These days it all plays out as some weird shadow game. If Jared had any character he would grab some balls and admit he did something fucked up and do the descent thing and at least apologize. Instead he opts to paint us as whiny PC’ers (you ever notice how people want to paint you as “sensitive” or “PC” when they want to be able to say/do fucked up shit to you?) who aren’t in on the “inside joke”. You don’t fool me NONE Jared. Just because you know some black people doesn’t mean you get to say fucked up shit about Mexicans ( black people don’t need an “ally” like you on our team). Funx is NOT some humorless girl and she clearly states everything she heard in that room as OVERTLY RACIST and NOT in a “jokeing” tone at all. You can hide behind your post-racist white liberal bullshit in the guise of “provocative humor” all you want but i got your card.This faggot ain’t havin it. In fact SHE’S OVER IT. I hate this whole “joking on the square” angle that saturates hipster circles where they say they’re joking but really theres some part underneath thats getting off on the fact that they’re saying fucked up shit to someone. sooooo slimy. Why don’t you admit to all your fans your view on things such as the Civil War/Palestine/Mexicans and MAKE SURE not to hold back (you SURE AS FUCK had alot of opinions on it that night.)Not that the soul-less hipster trash that saturates the scene would care or even remember for a month but it would be alot more honest than the shit your pulling now. as far as contacting you about Vice Records BULLSHIT. That was for the Younger Lovers NOT Gravy Train and thats before i knew about the level of dick you were and BESIDES i wouldn’t be apart of any team that would have you as a member. You think my article was childish? FUCK YOU. I think your behavior was childish and BRUTAL. YOU LEFT ME NO CHOICE BUT TO CLOWN YOU, LITTLE GIRL. You think my article was “15 years ago”? I think your world view is from last century. You wanna call my crew “sensitive”? We’ll i’ve made some conclusions about your crew myself: y’all are a bunch of fucked up white boys sittin down South defending each others fucked up behavior. Not that what your pulling doesn’t go down on the West Coast and EVERYWHERE but theres just something about it that stings even more to me. maybe cause i grew up in it. in the end its a hard job being completely right but its all i have to hold on to. feel free to email me, im not done bitching at you [Ed. note: email removed].
GET BENT,
Brontez

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I recently flew to New York City to catch the Black Lips, Deerhunter, and King Khan & the Shrines play a free show August 3, at McCarren Pool in Brooklyn.

It was worth the trip. The bands played to an insanely packed crowd of thousands of kids, young and old. It was so surreal standing onstage looking out at the wave of people covering the pool so thick you could barely see the cement floor.

The show was sweaty, loud, unpredictable, and a little bit chaotic — sounds like an Atlanta show to me.

I spent ten days in the city. This is what I saw:

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This Saturday night Fringe Factory returns to The Highland Inn Ballroom with yet another themed party. This time around it’s the “Summer Love Revelation,” and word on the street is that it’s a mushroom themed party. What exactly that means remains to be determined, but the interior of the ballroom will be decorated with some pretty ambitious and elaborate mushroom decorations that the ladies of Fringe Factory spent a lot of time putting together, so it will be worth checking out for the props alone.

DJ Soulmarcosa from North Carolina heads up the turntables with a set of vintage rock and roll, mod rock et. al., and special guest DJ Jared Swilley of the Black Lips fills in with a set of doo-wop and rock and roll records.

Swilley’s infamously reckless other band The Gaye Blades are also set to perform. The last few shows they’ve done have been unexpectedly tight, so this one is not to be missed, especially since this is their last show together before guitar player and Rob’s House Records owner Trey Lindsay moves away to go to school in New York City.

There will also be music provided by hosts and resident DJs Suzy Q & Vikki V., as well as a psychedelic light show and vintage, 16mm visuals provided by the OP SHOPPE.

The party starts at 9 p.m. and the Gaye Blades go on around 11:00 p.m. Cover is $7. The Highland Inn Ballroom is located at 644 N. Highland Ave. For more information look online at www.myspace.com/highlandinnloungeatlanta.

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Georgia’s own Mighty Hannibal previewed his new song in support of Barack Obama’s presidential nomination at the Ponderosa Stomp in New Orleans earlier this month. He borrows the hook from the Winans’ song “It’s Time” (produced by Teddy Riley) and throws in his own ad-libs.

Favorite line: “I ain’t gonna study war no mo’, so John McCain got to go.”

Best known for his classic anti-Vietman song “Hymn No. 5,” Hannibal wrote it in 1966, long before anti-war sentiment had reached its peak:

And here’s footage from his performance at The Earl last year, backed by the Black Lips, who actually cleaned up for the show:

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Do you have a question for The Black Lips? A comment? Would you like to berate the band for urinating on you last time you saw them live? Would you like to berate the band for NOT urinating on you last time you saw them live.

Now’s your chance.

From the band’s blog:

we got a new phone and don’t know what to do with it so we started a hotline. It’s inspired by CB and Hamm radios, because people don’t use those anymore, and we think truckers are cool. It’ll give us something to do in the van. The minutes will probably expire, and i’m not paying for that shit. give us a ring if you are in trouble, need advice, or are just plain lonely.
949 836 7407

(photo by Joeff Davis)

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BABY LIPS: Ben Eberbaugh (from left), Joe Bradley, Jared Swilley and Cole Alexander

As December 2007 draws to a close, it has been brought to my attention that this month marks the five-year anniversary of Ben Eberbaugh’s death. Hard to believe that it has been so long. Ben was one of the earliest and most substantial guitar players and vocalists for the Black Lips; he played a key role in getting the ball rolling for the group. His death came as a shock to everyone.

I knew him well. We worked together at an “alternative boutique”/clothing store in Little Five Points, called Junkman’s Daughter. Indeed, those were dark days for both of us.

At some point, I quit. Ben was later fired for missing too many shifts, or something like that, and went on to get a job at the Majestic diner on Ponce. We stayed in touch. He was the first person to tell me that the Black Lips were in talks with Greg Show from Bomp!, which later culminated in the release of the group’s first self-titled record.

Ben was also the one who always sought me out to coax me into writing something about their next show.

I found out about his death in a pretty harsh way. I had gone home to visit my friends and family in Iowa and Nebraska. It was a pre-holiday trip to avoid the chaos of traveling closer to Christmas. When I came home, there was a message on my voicemail from a Fox 5 reporter. It said to call him back, so I did. I assumed it was about some writing job I had applied for somewhere down the line. I don’t remember his name.

I called the guy back and he says, “Radford… Radford… Oh yeah! I was calling you about the Black Lips and Ben Eberbaugh.” So I say, “Yes, I know them well. What do you need to know?” Without missing a beat the guy says “Oh, you must not know yet. Ben died in a car accident. Hate to break the news to you. Gotta go!” Click…

That was pretty hardcore. I remember thinking that he must have been drunk, or that it was the result of some sort of negligence on his part. But it wasn’t. He was hit by some woman who was driving the wrong way down Ga. 400.

There is no way to know for sure, but at the time people were speculating that she was going the wrong way down the highway to avoid paying the 75-cents toll. But who knows.

Here is a story that I wrote about the accident just a few days later for Creative Loafing.

Read the rest of this entry >>

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PIED PIPERS OF ATLANTA: Wherever the Black Lips go, CL is sure to follow.

(all photos by Perry Julien)

Before you left-click to leave another scathing comment about how you’re sick of seeing coverage in CL on the Black Lips, Deerhunter, Snowden or the Selmanaires, you should thank your lucky stars. We’re only running photos from their latest show at the Variety Playhouse Friday, Nov. 30. (more…)

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On Oct. 9, the Black Lips performed on Conan O’Brien’s late-night talk show and absolutely killed it. The quartet was at its absolute best — guitar solos, hoarse screams, the works — ripping through “O, Katrina!” from its recent Good Bad Not Evil album. They even pulled off a cool Beatle-esque bow at the end.