Slam Lords: Oh no! Skate-punk festival returns to SoNo

(As published by the Fairfield Weekly, September 13, 2007)

If you've got bloody elbows and you love hairy men with guitars, you have an obligation to hit this year's Thurst Music Slamfest. Vendors, food, live music, skater demos, the Sound and free admission—that's what's going on. It doesn't matter your age, just strap on some elbow pads and hop in the minivan. Mom, we're going to Slamfest, ya dig? Here's a rundown of some of the featured bands:

Crash Romeo has basically been on tour since January, and after just getting back from Warped Tour they're writing a new album. They're a pop-punk band from Jersey, they're unexpectedly on a hardcore label (Trustkill) and they have some catchy lyrics, lively riffs and a lot of energy.

Jacobi Wichita is one of the more seasoned bands of the bunch, with a new album on the way and an energetic, original sound that's almost psychedelic. They're a little bit Linkin Park and little bit Mars Volta, but not as epic. They're proud to be their own blues-funk-hip-hop entity.

Vampire for Hire toured with Crash Romeo this year and they're a new pop-punk band from Jersey, too. I expected blood-thrashing metal, but they're more Hot Topic than blood-thirsty. The local teenage girls on MySpace love them and can't wait for the show.

Swallow the Ocean is part soothing guitar, part murderous scream. A perfect example of what can only be explained as a nightmare is "Dancing Upon a Skunk." But that's exactly what their genre is going for. This is not your father's rock, this is serious scary shit.

Saving Echo sounds like a hardcore Lenny Kravitz, with some Guns N Roses attempts thrown in to balance the whole thing out. A melodic high energy show with strong vocals from Kris Keyes is what you get with these guys.

Lost in Ashford is a hardcore band from Ashford, CT and while they don't scream all their lyrics, it's mostly screams. A tight, loud and thick sound. If the skate park doesn't fuck you up, these guys will.

No Less Than Everything is chaotic hardcore meets melodious metal with some intricate and almost tribal drum beats tying it all together. The mix of influences includes Latin jazz—not what you'd expected from hardcore but they tie it together in a loud, distorted package.

Tim Reynolds: Landing Acoustic UFOs in Your Front Yard

(As published in the Fairfield Weekly, September 13, 2007)
It's been about eight years and countless sold-out Tim Reynolds shows since the widely acclaimed Dave and Tim CD Live at Luther College was released and some people still have no idea who that little guy is sitting next to Dave. The one who can make an acoustic guitar sound like a UFO landing in your backyard. They just know Dave has a friend named Tim.

Truth is, Dave Matthews wishes he was Tim Reynolds. In certain circles Reynolds is considered a visionary, a master, a living legend. And if you pick up one of his 15 solo CDs, you'll find yourself right there in those circles.

I've been listening to Reynolds since hearing Luther College in '99 and while my interest in his acoustic style led me to other musicians like Leo Kottke and Keller Williams, I've still never heard anything as true and honest as a Tim Reynolds song. The improvisation, the bizarre intricacies, the emotion (raw)—it's mysterious and beautiful in a way you've always hoped music can be.

Once I found out that he's coming to Fairfield Theater's StageOne on Friday, I needed to talk to him. And in a mind-blowing hour-long phone conversation, we covered topics ranging from inter-dimensional travel to campaigning with Dennis Kucinich in 2004, and from his fan site to his new DVD with Dave Matthews, Live at Radio City Music Hall.



Tim on the new Dave & Tim DVD:
"I watched it at a friend's house last week in full sound, on a huge projection screen. It was actually really overwhelming and I had to leave," he says with a laugh. "But Dave is fucking kickin' on that thing! It really blew me away."

Tim on the guitar:
"I've been doing electric for a while and I did it a few times earlier this year. Mostly I've been playing acoustic, and it complements me really digging writing, and just realizing that you never know enough on any instrument. I just want to learn more."

Tim on the blues:
"Yesterday I started playing the old blues guys again and revisiting some of that. Revisiting and reeducating myself on the way to play one note and make it very subtly different for a long time. Studying a very simple form like blues and then seeing how complex a blues tune by one of the old masters is. If you listen to every little thing they do, it's like, you can't write that shit down. It's so raw and authentic. Like John Hammond, I just think he's the shit. The man can get down. He's just bringin' it. That motherfucker is rockin' like some bands wish they could."

Tim on his fan site, TimReynolds.com:
"It's just a whole different world, I don't even relate to it in a way. Although I really appreciate that people like it."

Tim on inter-dimensional travel:
"I just try to keep it in my head that it's all about the music for me and I should just keep making music. And as I get older, I almost feel like it controls me to be that way. And it almost feels like at some point it happens, and I'm in outer space and I'm flying into this what-music-is dimension that's on earth, but it's also in other dimensions simultaneously that you really can't even put into words, but you can put it into music.

"I think there's inter-dimensional traveling because physics demands it in a way, and I feel that through music that's real. I don't really go for the aliens hanging out and visiting us. I think there's inter-dimensional consciousness visiting us. But the whole Roswell thing is a totally different story."

Tim on meditation:
"When you're breathing quiet and you quiet your mind, once you can really do that for even five seconds, [it's] a totally different dimension that's completely ongoing, everywhere all the time. It's like musical inspiration; it's just waiting for us to tap into. As I get older, that sense of truth, you can't even put certain things into words or reason and I think it just comes out in music, I just give myself to that.

Tim on the '08 presidential election:
He started to laugh. "I'm gonna say 'fuck' a lot. I'm still in a dark, black widow mode from the last election.

"What [Dennis] Kucinich did [in '04] was brave and I still think he's the shit and he should be president. After going all over the country seeing how things are in the country, the whole system—media, government—they're so fixed on image and anti-substance. Something is going to have to unite us that isn't based on fear, because our country is really a giant ego of fear.

"Part of me wants to get wild with [campaigning with Kucinich again], but part of me just feels like the whole government system needs to blow its fascist wad and get over itself. Maybe Bush will be the first one to wake up and say, 'This is bullshit, I ain't workin' for you guys anymore.'"

Eat Impeach: Protesters descend on a Stamford restaurant to call on Nancy Pelosi to support articles of impeachment against Bush and Cheney.

(As printed in the Fairfield Weekly, August 16, 2007)

Members of the Weston, Westport and Stamford Impeachment Committees gathered on Thursday to call for Bush and Cheney's head in front of Stamford's Il Falco restaurant.

Inside, House Speaker and impeachment-opposer Nancy Pelosi was in attendance for a Chris Murphy fund-raiser; according to those leaving the lunch, Pelosi spoke about uniting the Democrats and ending the War in Iraq, and mentioned nothing about impeachment.

The protesters were itching to get the message across to anyone who'd listen. Richard Duffee, a retired lawyer and spokesman for the trio of local impeachment committees, wrote a letter he wanted to give to Pelosi with a petition signed by 650 pro-impeachment locals. His letter refers to the pair as as "domestic enemies of the Constitution" with "no signs of reforming themselves."

"[w]e can't get our troops out of Iraq without impeachment," he said, "because Bush and Cheney are too intimidating in Washington and they're too unresponsive."

Duffee had a message, a big bushy beard and in his hands, a copy of the Constitution printed on parchment. He spoke of hypocrisy in the government and referenced the Geneva Convention and the Nuremburg Laws as evidence of the need to remove Bush from his post. "It's standard Fascist stuff," he claimed.

Sal Liccione, a friend of Murphy's and head of Dennis Kucinich's presidential campaign in the state, was able to hand the letter to Rep. Murphy inside the restaurant. "If you can't listen to grass-roots messages like this," he said, "then what can you do?"

Liccione said 57 percent of Americans want to impeach Bush and he reported that 18 members of the House (but not Murphy) have already signed Kucinich's House Resolution 333, which on Congress to impeach Bush-Cheney.

A teenaged boy walked by; one of the older protesters asked him if he liked the Rolling Stones (the boy was wearing a Stones t-shirt). He said yes, and kept walking.

"What about Bush?" someone yelled.

"I hate him!" the boy yelled back.

A sigh of generational relief. "Looks like we've got the upper-middle class vote," said John Iles, 71, of Redding.

"I'm just sick of this whole damn thing," Mary Maynard said with a laugh. She was holding a sign that simply said Enough. She was waving, smiling and throwing out thumbs-up to every car that drove by, hoping for some feedback. Many passersby ignored all attempts at eye-contact, but most waved or threw back a thumbs-up. There were honking cars, honking buses and clapping families across the street.

Among the anti-impeachers who came by was Gregory Lodato, a thirtysomething Republican member of the Stamford Board of Representatives, who said, "The debate has gotten too polarized and now people want to impeach. It's ridiculous."

Once the protesters heard of his he support for the war, they jumped all over him, calling him un-American. In response, the blonde-haired, blue-eyed Lodato told the crowd that he was Native American. The crowd asked what tribe he was from; he laughed the question off. "Look up the word 'native' in the dictionary," he said. A long, polarized argument about heritage and ancestry followed until someone said, "you're all missing the point." Lodato agreed and eventually said, "It is not our place to be telling the Speaker of the House to do her job."

At one point the wonderfully Italian owner of Il Falco, Vincenzo Cordaro, stepped out to greet the crowd and he happily shared his views. "I don't think we can impeach him today," he said with a laugh, "but I think this is great. This is a great country."

A House United: Extreme Makeover Home Edition Hits Bridgeport

(As printed in the Fairfield Weekly, August 9, 2007)

It was a well-planned and perfectly organized swarm of blue worker bees—hundreds and maybe thousands of volunteers all dressed in ABC-TV-issued blue t-shirts—that changed the lives of East End Bridgeport's Brown family forever last week. And all it took to fuel the swarm was a few plates of ziti and chicken wings and nonstop water bottles and Micalizzi's Italian Ice handouts. All that, and the inspiring story of the Brown family who, according to press releases and news reports, is a strong and active binding force in the East End community even while they were living in complete destitution.

"Hey, if they can do it, why can't we?" was the feeling among the coming-and-going volunteers that decidedly did not want the Browns living in a junky house anymore. The Brown house was once half-burnt to a crisp, it was once burglarized to a pulp and it was once the ugliest, saddest house on the block. Now it's beautiful, it has a picket fence and I doubt this family will ever forget the fact that hundreds of complete strangers built it in a week's time. I've also heard that all three kids are getting full scholarships to Western Connecticut State University and the mortgage on the house is completely taken care of.

Not bad. Thank you, old trusty television! Where would we be without you? We'd be poor and uneducated, living in an ugly house, that's where.

I, and many other volunteers I talked to, couldn't help but wonder if Extreme Makeover, having chosen a poverty-stricken neighborhood for the build, would equip the house with an insane security system, but it remained to be seen at the time. I guess we'll have to wait until the show's October air date to find out for sure.

I volunteered on Monday night for about five hours after the Post, News 12, and various radio stations announced an extreme need for help that day.

When I arrived, the volunteer coordinator told me to go home and scrounge up some tools and return to Seaview Ave. It was there that I picked up a blue shirt and hard hat and took a school bus down to Hollister Ave. I never used the tools I brought, nothing hard fell on my hat and the shirt was 15 sizes too big. But that stuff didn't matter at all. The people I met were nothing but happy to be there, even when we were just standing around waiting to be told what to do, which was often.

At one time, there might have been 15 people working on the roof, five people handing out ice-cold wash rags, 30 people nailing siding to the house, 40 people sweeping and gathering trash, 25 people painting walls inside and 20 hanging off to the side waiting for someone in a yellow or red hard hat to tell them what to do next. But everyone was safe. And everyone was helping everyone.

Camera crews hovered all over, mostly picking up on any drama they could find and sometimes stopping the construction progress to get a shot of one of the hosts. And while I didn't get a glimpse of Ty Pennington in all his spiked-hair glory, he'll most likely be in more than half the shots they include in the show.

At one point I was instructed to help lift a gas stove and oven into the kitchen, but there was some confusion over whether or not a range was part of the plans. Steve Gulick, co-owner of the company in charge of construction, stood with me and fellow volunteer Ford Smith (Gulick's Fairfield neighbor) as we waited for a decision and he pointed out the towering camera aimed at us. We imagined a time-lapse scene showing the three of us standing still while workers sped by. Hey, if it happens, I'm the tall guy in the huge blue shirt, and so is Mr. Smith.

We heard rumors of being an entire day behind, but now, since the house is done and the family is living there happily, I wonder if the rumors were started just to get the workers to move quicker. If so, they worked. If not, well, they still worked.

Last week's workers went in strangers and came out experts in non-verbal communication. Grunts and inaudible yells were easily translated into orders, and orders were quickly translated into action. Lessons-learned include the fact that six people working together for six minutes can clean an entire yard and five people working together for 30 minutes can paint an entire room. People came and went all day and all night for a week and if they didn't stop and look at the progress, it was already too late to see it.

To think what it would be like to be on the receiving end of the show's famous "Door Knock," it's a wonder the Browns didn't pass out when they were chosen. Hey, family, wanna go to California? Yes, it's free. Yeah, and when you come back you'll basically live in a castle. Also for free. Sound like something you can handle?

Fred Brown (16), upon seeing the house last Wednesday, answered with back flips and handstands; Bobbi (17) and Jana'e (14) fell to the ground, and their perfectly jolly mother threw her handkerchief-grasping hands in the air. It was Habitat for Humanity meets The Price is Right and for every part of the program that's a silly reality show, there's an equal part that really makes it a really amazing, happy idea.

Could the hand of God be involved? More likely, it was the hand of some ABC-TV executive who chose Bridgeport for CT's film industry tax breaks.

But that doesn't matter: Even in these war-torn times, or whatever, it is virtually impossible to have doubts about humanity after volunteering and witnessing the hundreds of strangers working together for the first and probably only time.

Gathering of the Hippies: Good Vibes for Everyone

(Published 8/15/07 in Fairfield Weekly)
If you’re curious about what traveling with the circus is like, living with the smelliest and craziest people on the planet on the hottest days of summer, or if you’ve ever wanted to party with men on 12-foot stilts spinning in the sun, ignoring all your brain cells to the point of complete musical serenity, go to the Vibes next year.

Will we host it next year? G.O.V. Communication Director Jon Lobdell said, “We are very hopeful to be welcomed back. We loved it there.”


And what’s not to love? Picture the usually empty fields of Seaside Park filled with thousands and thousands of hippies, hundreds of tie-dyed vending tents and a giant yoga peace circle, and you’ve got an idea of the overwhelming and totally unbelievable sight last weekend. Mr. P.T. Barnum sat in his giant chair looking out to the ocean and had no idea what was going on behind him. Maybe that’s good, but I’d say he was missing out.


Until the place was cleaned Sunday night, every picnic bench was taken, every trash can was filled and all the lush green grass was trampled. Native Americans cried single tears all weekend and the hippies were too high to notice. But we were all a part of the “Vibe Tribe,” and I saw so many people picking up cans and bottles all weekend that I was moved to do the same. There were reminders all weekend to recycle, to keep the place looking better than last week and even to pick up your neighbor’s trash. And most people did.


Only the baseball fields were off limits to campers and no space was off limits to drug-dealers. You have to listen close, though, or you could miss out (but maybe that’s a good thing). “Rolls” are ecstasy pills, “doses” are LSD, “headies” or “nuggets” means pot, “tabs” is usually acid, “boomers” is shrooms and “yip yap” is cocaine. Oh, beautiful Bridgeport park, how innocent you were with your small-scale drug dealing before this jam-packed insanity rolled on through.


George Clinton showed everyone why “Funk is so Loaded” by requesting a bowl from the crowd, and receiving one. The Deep Banana Blackout came out donned in black suits, and the normally-shirtless Fuzz kept his on the whole time. Jen Durkin and Bob Weir were at the top of their festival game, playing with almost everyone Friday and Saturday, each time more energetic than the last. Keller Williams did not play as a bluegrass trio the whole time (as predicted last week), layering together recorded clips of his own live music for at least two mind-blowing solo jams. Les Claypool scared everyone with his pig mask and wildly eccentric bass solos before removing the mask and playing with Weir and a drummer in one of the most confusing performances of the weekend. The Wailers revived all Marley’s songs with great Jamaican energy and was a common favorite from what I heard on my many walks to and from the camping area.


Life at the festival was hot, sweaty, hungry, thirsty, and it reeked of pot. The cops don’t care though, and the kids think it’s tobacco. The point is to get as gross as possible and survived hell with a smile. If world-famous “hippie geezer” Wavy Gravy can, anybody can. The man was the human manifestation of psychedelic mushrooms, announcing tripped-out revelations about space and time before each band.


Maybe you went into the event totally unable to dance. You might not like sitting in a shade-less sun-blazed field for eight hours and you might not want any of the overly-available drugs. But none of that really matters. It’s all about hearing great music, trying to find the shade, loving your fellow man and woman and dancing like an absolute idiot.


You let go of everything outside the fenced perimeter and allow the music to seep in through your red, raw skin. Work doesn’t matter, traffic is a long-lost worry and clean clothes are pointless to the point of being hilarious. Become an animal, jump in the mud and come along for the ride. You’re not in a cubicle anymore, and you’re not even stuck doing yard work. It’s just feel-good funky music playing from 10 a.m. to 2 a.m. for no other reason than to help you wiggle in the sun. Joyful adults, laughing children and a completely friendly attitude that’s different from anything you can find anywhere else. People literally travel across the world for this sort of thing.

I knew the whole gathering of the Vibes scene was especially unorthodox for the Bridgeport area. But what I couldn’t figure out was whether it was because the festival was so close to pristine towns like Westport, Southport and Fairfield or if it was because the festival was actually in Bridgeport. These festivals usually take place in the middle of nowhere, in an abandoned farm in Ohio or upstate New York. With so many attempts to advertise the changing perceptions of slummy B-Po this year, it seems the Vibes weekend was a real “Bridgeport. Who Knew?” moment.