A May review
of Kill Misty from Pipeline
To Live and Shave in LA 2.Kill Misty: Threnody/300 Dollar Silk Shirt.self-released Truth be told, I was a little wary of To Live an Shave in LA 2 before I heard them. I didn't quite know what to expect from "occult free glam," but I was ready for some sort of self-indulgent, heavy-handed mess of loosely orchestrated chaos. What I got instead was a sharp slap to the cranium telling me that I should've expected more. Kill Misty... is a surprisingly sharp orgy of distortion, disorienting production, calculated chaos; a collage of sound riddled with studio effects, explosions of brutal feedback and unexpected noises, made by both human and instrument, whose unstated sense of rhythm seems both alien and primitive. The man behind the microphone, session vocalist Om Myth, is the ghost of a glam chanteur whose scorched-silk voice holds court over Kill Misty..., spouting mostly unintelligible vocals in the perverse fashion of a rock 'n' roll bad boy whose reached that painful period of faked introspection and crooning about the more delicate parts of life. Misty Martinez, the album's other vocalist, peppers the music with "personal effects," mainly consisting of the moans, groans, and whispers of seduction and orgasmic rapture, giving the term "free sex" a new musical definition that has nothing to do with internet sites or telephone numbers advertised in the back of Rolling Stone. The vocals are interrupted by bursts of blast-beats, sax squeals, and and deformed guitar and bass, with each instrument run through a gamut of effects and studio trickery. Weasel Walter and Rat Bastard's streams of guitar/bass discharge rock and heave under a heavy layer of distortion, while Nondor's spastic, death metal drumming punctuates the music in sudden explosions of sound. Kill Misty... is a powerful statement made by a group of musicians with an aversion to boredom and wankery, a shuddering mass of sound in which no emotion is left unaffected and no note uneffected. To Live and Shave in LA 2 are much more in control than they'd like us to believe, and the level of well-executed and self-conscious musical disaster found on Kill Misty... makes it impossible to regard it simply as thoughtless noise-making. Instead, whether pre-composed or improvised and re-structured in the studio, TLASILA2's debut album shows a surprising sense of subconscious unity and cohesion, a definite feeling that the music's going somewhere and that practically every sound that leaves the speakers is meant to be there, in its exact place, even if the band didn't know it when they made the sound. This self-released disc is one in which all of the self-assured posturing and provocation of the band amounts to music that nearly as good as the lofty promises made by the band, and, with a proper release (with extra music) coming soon on X+Z=0 records, this disc may finally get the attention that it deserves.
A May review
of the Pittsburgh 2000 show from
TLASILA2 came up next. They proved to be another interesting ensemble, which was as visually striking as it was audibly stimulating. Although names were garnered after the show, Rat Bastard played violin with many effects, Weasel Walter played guitar, Nandor played drums, and Misty moaned and cheered us on. Like I said, visuals were a key element here. In fact, seeing this spectacle was at least half of why Iíd recommend everyone to see TLASILA2 at some point in their lifetime. If youíre at all familiar with Weasel clad in formal attire and sporting horns, be prepared to see a different side. He looked like a WWII soldier crossed with a pirate and a punk rocker, all of whom had just been in a shipwreck (note: I canít take complete credit for that analogy, as someone I was with made a similar comment). Rat looked like an average middle-aged man, except for the fact that he rolled about on the ground with a violin. Nandor wore leather pants and played death/grind drums and had a beard. And Misty, well, like I said, Misty tried her best to get everyone into the spirit of things-even if, in doing so, she made you feel a bit uncomfortable by her display ofÖ enthusiasm. She looked like a cheerleader crossed with an erotic dancer-especially when she hiked up her skirt and flaunted particular areas/regions of her person. At one point she even gave a young boy a lap dance. Iíll not mention what she did with the microphone and other random things she found on the not-so-clean floor of the Millvale Industrial Theatre. But how did all of this sound, you ask? The only way I can describe TLASILA2 would be chaotic free-glam. What exactly that means, Iím not even sure. All I know is that this band needs to be seen. It was certainly an experience Iím not likely to forget very soon.
May 2001: The release of the new Shave 2 disc is slated for late July on the X+Z=0 label in Belgium (manufactured and distributed by Conspiracy). This release entitled The 300 Dollar Silk Shirt will feature 40 minutes of brand new music which expands on the stunning and visionary experiments of the debut release Kill Misty: 300 Dollar Silk Shirt. New compositional strategies will be revealed and pleasant, unexpected new instrumental and vocal tactics and techniques grace this release. Although the title and cover art are incredibly similar to that of the first one, rest assured that the new material easily surpasses the quality of the old stuff (which will be included with 24 bit digital remastering as bonus tracks.)
Be sure to indure the interview we did last year with Pipeline magazine
We have received many e-mails about the availability of our first two releases, Commmiinnggg! and Rem'bered the First Man or Astro-Man? Album and The Internal Organ. We're extremely sorry to say that these compact discs are no longer available due to copyright infringement technicalities. It appears that the sample from Chicago's "29 or 6 to 4" (which makes up the majority of both programs) was not legally licensed from the proper authorities. Actually, who really gives a fuck anyways? The aforementioned products are actually by another group better known as To Live and Shave in L.A. 3. They were conceived as a conceptual art joke. Ha ha. Weasel, Misty and Nandor do not have anything to do with them, so be warned. I don't think they're too bad, though -- that's just me. Maybe we'll reissue them in the near future.
The band will tour America this fall with an all new look and sound. Why not?
September 2000:Be sure to check out our merchandise page for two new products -- the double CD set of live recordings from the US tour and an internet only exclusive MP3!
Misty Martinez is currently negotiating a solo release with a well-known electronic music label. More details to come...
Misty and Weasel appeared on Sept. 15th as The Devil Bell Hippies at 6ODUM in Chicago. Weasel --ominously draped in a ceremonial blanket-- played a broken CD of "Dance Hall Days" by Wang Chung, a cheap drum machine and a smoke machine. Misty performed with virtuosity on the trombone and acted like a monkey. Both members were wasted on "Mixed Fruit" flavor Wild Irish Rose 'wine'. The performance was well received by the audience.
The TLASILA 2 2000 East
Coast tour was fabulously successful:
Tues. Aug 22 - Pittsburgh - Millvale Industrial Theater w/ Reynols a.o.
Thurs. Aug 24 - Baltimore - Ottobar
Fri. Aug 25 - NYC - Don Hill's
27 - Rochester - The
The new CD "Kill Misty: Threnody/300 Dollar Silk Shirt" is available now from our merchandise page.
Here's a bit of commentary on the tour by our own Misty Martinez:
Baltimore first, cuz it was the best EVER. Weasel and Nandor each took a half hit of acid just to help liven things up--turned out that was way unnecessary. Before any of the bands really kicked in, the Baltimore Rowdy Crew had already torn apart the "lounge" area, overturning all the couches and chairs and tables, piling everything in a huge heap in the middle of the room. People were climbing over the furniture mound like monkeys, getting scratched up by protruding staples, yelling, running around, etc.
Weasel and Nandor pretty much stayed outside before we played, Nandor chanting desert incantations while Weasel danced around on the street. The Rowdy Crew kinda hinted that things were gonna get crazy with their multiple belt look, hammers, diving and racing suits, running shorts, leather cuffs, sweatbands, different shoes on each foot like, "watch out, we got stuff planned." Boy, did they ever! We started playing and Rat realized he forgot to record our show, so he immediately ran into Nandor and knocked over all his drums. Total piss-off. Rat thought it would sound like we had just started if he went over and pressed record while Nandor re-set up his drums.
Anyway, after about three minutes a huge freakin' riot busts through the door--about 15 people armed with shovels and hammers and other tools, plus crazy boomboxes, ceramic plates, and wooden objects. They came right up to the stage and start breaking everything, smashing plates with a hammer right on my crotch and up my ass! People were pouring beer all over my wig and butt, spanking me, spitting on me, one guy even bit my --hell yeah!
Nandor and Weasel were out of their minds, peaking at this moment, Nandor spitting stage blood all over the place, on his drums splattering, in people's faces, on himself, freaking out. Weasel was wearing tiny black latex short shorts and boots, and that's it. Oh, and a lot of sweat, which made his shorts start to slide off--ooh la la. I was on his back while he sang "We Are The World," and one of the BRC dudes looked at him like, "Your time is UP," and unplugged the mic. Then like 10 people rushed the stage and grabbed Weasel. I flew off him and hit the floor.
So all these people are carrying Weasel out the door against his will... he's kicking and screaming and I saw the look of terror on his face so I followed the mob, jumping on peoples' backs, kicking them, jumping on Weasel to add dead weight. Almost got a few toes and an arm broken. They threw Weasel in the back of a pickup truck and tossed a blanket over his head, and he thrashed so much he scrambled outta there. Rat and Nandor kept playing, oblivious to the lynching outside. Weasel would squirm and the Crew would attack and throw him back, and this went on for several minutes. Finally Weasel ran back inside, frightened out of his wits, and got on the stage and just started packing up everything, desperately trying to restore some order to the utter insanity. It's all a blur from here, I was totally beat and twisted, came back from outside looking like a rape victim, don't know what really happened.
According to Rat, he smashed a beer bottle on his head and then went outside and rolled around in the street while playing his violin. Nandor ended the set with a white-boy rap. The sound guy pulled the plug on him and all that was left was a huge pile of rubble.
And Rochester was pretty outta control as well. We played on an "Open Mic" night, which would seem lame as hell to an uninformed outsider. Those in the know, however, expect a ghaotic evening of retarded whack-off bands and superbad grunge bands alternating to form a garish plaid of indulgent unbearableness. People showed up hours eary to sign up--this wasn't no arm-twisted night of heartbroken poetry--because they get excited about playing. Imagine that! Not jaded fuckheads! All right!
My favorite for the night was the Shambling Mounds (featuring members of Pengo). They dressed up as enormous piles of garbage and shook a little and moved around just enough to look sinister. One Mound was on the floor, rolling on a dolly, covered like a turtle with a large half-sphere shell made of rattan. So this guy who kept "warning" us that he was gonna disrupt our show attacks the turtle mound and starts jumping on the round shell thing. Nandor joins in, breaking off the outer-most ring. There was this huge round wooden hoop with nails protruding from the inside and like an idiot I start using it like a hula hoop. Then the original disrupter guy grabs a hold of it and yanks really hard, whipping my legs out from under me. I fall on my ass in pain--one of the long rusty nails had punctured the back of my thigh. Enraged, I got up and attacked the guy like a windmill, throwing punches to his face even! I've never done that before. He blocked himself and ran away like a whipped dog, ha ha!
But as for the TLASILA2 performance, all I know is at one point I was hanging by my ankles from Weasel's neck while Nandor claimed I was a white trash prostitute who'd do anyone. Everyone was jumping around, people were simultaneously aghast and excited, laughing and cringing...
Rat almost strangled to death the dude who I beat up, and that guy's wife was her own story altogether. While I was walking through the audience she grabbed me and made me hang on her, humping me in the air like a ghetto booty dance-off. I escaped, and she followed on stage, riding my ass doggy style, pummeling me with flat hands.
VERY loud, actually listenable at some points. Great way to end the tour--shredded and full of hatred, ready to rip each others' heads off, scum to the core. Overall, I was extremely shocked by friendly and enthusiastic encounters on this tour. I faced extreme disinterest and/or hostility the last TLASILA tour, which almost left me wondering: hmmm... is TLASILA2 *hard* enough? Did we actually look amiable on stage? Gotta say no to both my quries, truthfully, because the people who showed hospitality were truly insane and/or scuzz of the earth, rude to their mothers, babyfuckers at heart.
They're the ones who laugh at all the cripples we saw in Rochester, wanted me to slit their throats in Pittsburgh (found a rusty icepick on the floor and threatened, but didn't do much with it), begged to bite off my clit in Baltimore. All NEW FACES, too, so ha ha dissenters--your little plan to ignore us didn't quite work. Stay in your stupid wormholes. Go ahead and pray that karma will catch up with TLASILA2, but guess what? God isn't listening to you. I realized I made the mistake of calling us TLASILA (not 2) for the Baltimore revue, but so did the rest of the small percentage of the world who gave a shit this last week.
We're not trying to play the band off as TLASILA, because that's not who we are. We're TLASILA2. But at the same time, who fucking cares? Weasel said we could call our band Michael Jackson if we wanted. Rat's testing this with TLASILA3 (which is pretty close to just being The Laundry Room Squelchers) is also going to tour under the names "Harry Pussy 2" and "Sonic Youth 2," just to get more people to their shows. They made a fake TLASILA2 CD, which I haven't heard, and also a fake Harry Pussy 1975 CD. So then some of the Pengo guys made a fake TLASILA2 1975 CD and it's really good! Too bad there are only 15. Ask Vixo99 for one. Please make more fake CDs! Every time one hits the market an indie rock band breaks up. More trash, less trash.
On a more positive note, it really was nice to talk with women this time 'round, instead of dodging beer bottles. At least one was hitting on me, too! The men in the TLASILA2 crowd weren't such pussies, either, balls-out asking to hang with me. No chance in hell, of course, but the bold moves were appreciated.
Baltimore left me fired up for living. So much energy, plenty of attractive people, few who seem to care what others think of them. Lots of dreams thrown around, I like that. I hitchhiked through there three years ago and the guy who picked me up was at the TLASILA2 show! AND the guy whose mother's house I stayed at three years ago let us stay with him again. I love things like that. Little points of overlap. Makes you feel like the world is your home, it doesn't matter where you go.