Category Archives: Louisville Music History

Got Any Endtables Memorabilia?

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(Above, the cover of the Endtables 7″, from the excellent Last Days of Man on Earth blog.)

From our companion blog, State of the Commonwealth:

Wow, here is a cool instance of, y’know, someone actually reading State of the Commonwealth. Thanks to our post back in early September about Joan Osborne name-checking the Endtables in the New York Times, we’ve been contacted by Stephen Driesler, who confirms the rumored Endtables discography that we’ve been hearing about (and expressing enthusiasm for) elsewhere. Other aspects of the discography we can confirm is that it will be released by the excellent Drag City record label of Chicago, Illinois, and that it will include all six known Endtables studio recordings plus an undetermined amount of bonus material (as such, neither the tracklist nor the release date have been finalized).

As regards any reissue project of this nature, there is a good chance that there are a lot of undiscovered materials that might be usable, perhaps just lying around in your basement or archives. Steve is asking us to help spread the word, in order to see if there’s anybody out there in Louisville or beyond who has any Endtables memorabilia, photographs, stories or ephemera they’d like to share for the project. And anything of interest related to the Endtables is fair game. So if you do have something you’d like to share, or know anyone else who does, please contact Steve through his email address: luna_pier@yahoo.com. Be sure to get it to Steve by January 25th!

Brett Eugene Ralph’s Kentucky Chrome Revue, Tomorrow at Air Devils Inn

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(Photo of Brett Ralph from this nice review here.)

One of our favorite people of all time, Mr. Brett Eugene Ralph, is bringing his Kentucky Chrome Revue to the Air Devils Inn tomorrow night (that’s Saturday, December 20th if you’re scoring at home). Here’s what Brett says:

Come on out to our first show in nearly a year. We’ve got two new members, lots of new songs, and even a few Xmas surprises. The current line-up includes Chris Reinstatler on drums, Kirk Kiefer on keyboards, Mark “Lupe” Hamilton on lead guitar, Justin Miller on bass, and Jamie Daniel on violin.

The show is a measly $5, and also includes both Jon Ashley and the Whiskey Bent Valley Boys on the bill.

The Air Devils Inn, one of Louisville’s greatest divey bars, is located at 2802 Taylorsville Road, across the street from Bowman Field and right next to Queen of Sheba (one of the best restaurants in town!).

More Circle X on WFMU.org

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From our sister blog, State of the Commonwealth:

Circle X Prehistory

We wrote about Louisville art-music crazies Circle X a little while ago, as their Prehistory record was recently reissued by David Grubbs‘ Blue Chopsticks label. You also might have seen the B-Sides column in LEO that discusses the reissue (and where member Rik Letendre’s name is misspelled). As it turns out, Mr. Letendre was recently a guest on the Strength Through Failure with Fabio show on WFMU, probably the best (and maybe the only true) free-form radio station in the entire country. You can stream the show and look at the entire playlist here (the playlist also includes songs from James Last, the Birthday Party and Public Image Ltd.). Special thanks to our pal Brian Labuda from Philadelphia’s Fun Vampires blog for hipping us to the show.

Louisville Music History: Circle X

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Sorry we haven’t posted anything in a while, been sort of busy with the two jobs and the whole Derby thing and springtime and whatnot. We even missed our five-year anniversary last month. But we’ve got this entry for you today, from our other blog State of the Commonwealth, so enjoy:

Undated Circle X photo

Since it’s kind of a slow news day here in Louisville, we thought we’d take a few moments to reach back into the past and discuss one of our favorite subjects: Louisville Music History. The history of Louisville’s music, going way back even into the jug band times, has been pretty diverse and legendary, especially for a town of Louisville’s size.

One would think Louisville might be behind the times, since Mark Twain famously said he’d wait out the end of the world in Kentucky, where it would happen 20 years later than everywhere else. Yet while this may arguably be true for other aspects of Louisville culture, this is not the case for Louisville’s music scene, especially since the late 1970s when punk rock blossomed here far before many other similar towns. And one of the stranger fruits of that blossiming was Circle X.

Bold Beginnings

Though possibly formed in New York, Circle X was born out of the ashes of No Fun, considered by most to be Louisville’s first punk rock band. No Fun consisted of Tony Pinotti, Bruce Witsiepe, Tara Key (later of Babylon Dance Band and Antietam, as well as a solo artist), Carty Bledsoe and Dean Thomas, and in the summer of 1978 they recorded a demo tape before splitting up (you can hear the fruits of their labor on the excellent Bold Beginnings: An Incomplete Collection of Louisville Punk 1978-1983 compilation on local label Noise Pollution — and read more about the early days of the Louisville punk scene in this Louisville magazine article by former Babylon Dance Band frontman Chip Nold).

Once the lineup of Circle X solidified in New York (with David and Rick Letendre of Louisville’s unrecorded I-Holes joining the group), the formerly-punk band lunged headfirst into weirder, artier territory. Whether the big city’s burgeoning No Wave scene influenced Circle X or they influenced the scene is unclear; what is clear is that Circle X was one of the most unique, most mysterious and yet most un-heralded band to be involved in that particular place and time.

Yet perhaps Circle X’s willful obscurity was self-induced — they left New York at the height of the No Wave era to reconvene in France (where they recorded a four-song EP, reissued on CD in the late 1990s by the Dexter’s Cigar subsidiary of Drag City Records). Upon returning to New York in 1982 (or thereabouts), they set out on finishing their Prehistory LP, which was released by both a French label (L’Invitation au Suicide) and an American label (Index). However, as the album didn’t sell particularly well (despite its inventive and crucial blend of the dark angst of No Wave and “goth” groups such as Mars and the Birthday Party with dub rhythms that wouldn’t seem out of place on an Augustus Pablo record), Circle X remained obscure.

Celestial

But the band toiled on, mainly playing shows in the Manhattan art-world underground, with an elan and vigor that few could match (as attested in their biography from their 1994 Matador release Celestial):

The remainder of the ’80s saw the group diversify with new drummer Mike McShane, guest violinist Lois Delivio and complex art performances, often involving constructions of great wheels, techno puppets and machines, as well as collaborative visuals with film makers Bradley Eros and Jeanne Liotta. In addition, the integration of synth technologies, tapes and samples now figured in the music’s stew of beauty and din. Members of the Circle X faction surfaced in offshoot projects like The Life of Falconettie (featuring Witsiepe and future Circle X engineer Mike Pullen), Gin Ray (with Letendre and Pullen) and Dear John (ostensibly a Circle X incarnation). By `89, Witsiepe, along with both Pinotti and Letendre, had begun publishing ANTI-UTOPIA, a limited edition artists’ book. A 1990 volume included a near-half-hour flexi-disc featuring Peter Van Riper, Mike Pullen, Christian Marclay, Bodeco, and a Circle X offering, “Crash/St. Sebastian of the Hood” (after a J.G. Ballard novel), a song later remixed for Matador’s New York Eye and Ear Control compilation.

The veiled glory of Circle X’s past had metamorphosed into the purity of the marginal. Current drummer Martin Koeb (Dustdevils, Wall Drug, Loudspeaker) joined Pinotti, Witsiepe and Letendre in 1992 and four white-vinyl seven-inch singles for Matador, American Gothic and Lungcast Records were released over the course of a year. Titled The Ivory Tower, the records were compiled into a box set and re-released under the auspices of EDITIONS ANTI-UTOPIA in mid-’93. The package was limited to 100 and included an original performance photo from a recent European tour, a booklet fold-out and a silkscreen-printed mirror. The music within remained eerie, intelligent and harsh, yet far more aurally complex.

Celestial, while out of print, remains a fantastic, mature artistic statement from a band who clearly synthesized many different types of music and art in order to create a sui generis whole. Unfortunately, not too long after its release, guitarist and founding member Bruce Witsiepe died of AIDS.

Despite the renewed interest in the music, art and history of New York in the late 1970s and early 1980s (as evidenced by compilations such as the New York Noise series on the UK’s Soul Jazz label, as well as archival reissues such as the movie Downtown ’81 starring then art-world phenom Jean-Michel Basquiat), Circle X remains an enigma. However, Blue Chopsticks, a label curated by Louisville native and musician David Grubbs (of such groundbreaking bands as Squirrel Bait, Bastro and Gastr del Sol), has recently reissued Circle X’s Prehistory on CD. So while the history of the band may still be somewhat obscure, their music can and will live on.

Download the song “Beyond Standard” from Circle X’s Prehistory record here.

Some Old Fliers from Old Times

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Crown Hate Ruin Flier

Nick Hennies, one of my oldest Louisville friends and a member of the Weird Weeds (and former member of Telephone Man and Nero), recently unearthed some old fliers, some of which I “designed,” so I thought I’d share them with you, all two of my readers. The one above was, as you can see, for a show at the long-gone Ground Zero Records (when Ed had a basement for impromptu shows) by Washington, D.C.’s excellent the Crownhate Ruin and Nero. Unfortunately, Crownhate (which featured Fred Erskine from Hoover and June of 44) had to cancel as they got a flat or something on the way there, so the False Start played instead. Who were the False Start? Well they were a fucking awesome band consisting of Jesse Lebus (my best friend from high school and also the man behind the Rattlesnake Kit and Imagineagents, two fantastic but basically unheard Louisville bands), his brother Morgan (now works at Domino Records here in NYC), their half-brother Jeffrey Treitz and Sebadoh member and man-about-town Jason Lowenstein. Somehow as audacious teenagers Jesse and I got to be friends with Jake because we’d give him tapes of our intentionally-horrible cover band Leafpile (our m.o. was to “cover” songs by playing along with them, taped to air using two boomboxes in my mom’s basement), and he’d give us his Sparkalepsy tapes (get in touch, Jason! I still have that one tape you wanted).

Sevens/Sorts

This next flier I made for a show that Nick put on, but I wasn’t able to go to as I was back at Bard, beginning the second semester of my junior year. The Sevens and The Sorts were both from D.C., again. I guess it wasn’t that far for bands to get to Louisville, though some of it is some rough driving through stretches of West Virginia. Anyway the D.C.-Louisville connection probably goes back to Minor Threat playing there, so I guess it makes sense. Anyway, too bad I couldn’t make this one.

Storm and Stress (and storm!)

This last flier is from a mega-show I booked during the fall semester of my senior year, with five bands. Of course, one of the bands was Julia Schagene, which consisted of Nick, Drew Wilson and Andrew Drummond who was visiting the US from Sheffield, UK. They drove all the way from Chicago through an ice storm (taking about 20 hours for what would otherwise be a 13-hour drive) to play, and I paid them $150 (loved that college money!). The other bands were fantastic, but hampered a bit by the early snowstorm that kept attendance pretty weak. Anyway, all those names you should know. I’d be worried if you didn’t. And it was a fun time.

Update 8/16/07: Here’s the first of a few related albums for you to check out – more on the way:

Nero, s/t (1997) – anybody who calls it “the Dune Concept album” gets a slap in the face.
The Crownhate Ruin, Until the Eagle Grins (1996)
Brother JT and Vibrolux, Music for the Other Head (1995)

LOUISVILLE, LOUISVILLE, LOUISVILLE

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So I’ve been meaning to write this since like Christmas. 2005 is the year of Louisville, in many odd and yet pleasing ways. So back around Christmas, again, I was on this plane hurtling through a massive snowstorm on my way south from Chicago (layover, natch), and this wave sorta came over me. It wasn’t giddiness per se, nor anxiety, but possibly some combination of both. Hell I’m not even really sure what it was. But it was something.

So yeah, I’ve always been a homer. Y’know, the guy who always roots for his home team no matter how many bonehead plays they make (Francisco Garcia, why do you foul three-point attempts with no time left?). So it’s not surprising that I would feel something strangely happy and crazed on returning. But I’ve gone home lots of times; mostly it’s no big deal. No, it had already started, this 2005-year-of-Louisville nonsense. So like a soon-to-be-jilted suitor, I’ve been learning to savor the moment before the inevitable. Actually, strike jilted, even when things go right they can be inevitable. Anyway, so I’m gonna try to roll it out, what it is I’m thinking about, if I can.

1. Past where the river bends, past where the silos stand, past where they paint the houses

Everybody thinks they know the story of Slint. I mean, everybody thinks the mythology is the thing, y’know? I’m not saying I’m better than everybody (I ain’t), but I think I might be one of the few — even with a so-called “insider’s perspective” (ha!) — to admit that I don’t have a fucking clue.

When the rumors of a Slint reunited first swirled like tumbleweeds in the digital desert of the internet, I was more than a little skeptical. Hell, those old rumors have been around since I was in high school — and that was a long time ago (missed my ten year last fall). Shit, I even saw Britt at a Jack Rose show in September, and the only music thing he mentioned was playing with Miighty Flashlight (well neither of us wanted to talk music, I think). But then it came true. For one time only, Slint is back, on tour.

Many have commented on the irony of this tour by a band that hardly played their hometown, much less an extended jaunt elsewhere. I never got to see ’em, either. Sometimes I’m not entirely sure that’s a bad thing, either: my friend Steve told me that the reason he thought they were brilliant when he saw them back then was because it was like “four r*****s playing the most godlike music” (apologies, no offense intended). But still, I missed Cafe Dog (well did they even play? y’know, the big riot show!), I missed the Kentucky Theater, I missed the VFW Hall and on and on. So I couldn’t miss this.

It’s kind of hard to explain, I admit. And I’ve told the story many times before (and it really isn’t a story but barely an anecdote): bought the lone, lonely copy of Tweez sitting in ear X-tacy for ages because of the sticker that said “Members of Solution Unknown.” Took it home, had adolescent mind blown. You’re thinking great, big deal, so what? and that’s understandable. I think that if I knew exactly how to articulate how I felt this music was a conscious part of me before I even heard it, well, I’d probably sound less arrogant and silly. But I don’t know how to articulate it (obviously). And it doesn’t even matter. I’ll see them this Friday and Saturday, and I’ll be that 13 year-old hearing this ageless, primeval Kentucky music for the first time.

2. Orders rescinded, and no pie

Bastro was headier. Now I know that’s just about the most obvious thing to say about a band with David Grubbs in it, but that’s not exactly what I mean. There’s something more to his music than just advanced degrees at elite institutions or arcane cultural studies, though that’s all anybody’s talked about since Gastr. There’s a sense of place, just like Slint. Well, not just like Slint. Not to get all Freudian, but Tweez is like the ur-, the id. And though Spiderland is a more “literary” album (bear with me here, people), musically it’s still this uncontrollable urge, this force of nature.

Bastro’s sorta like the ego and the superego put together. Okay, maybe I should quit with the Psych 101 bullshit. But you’ve got this intensely loud, raging music that’s tight, controlled. Dave’s lyrics are just as full of seemingly abstract imagery as the later Gastr stuff, but there is a text, and a lot of it is about Kentucky simpletons living in the modern world: “Shoot Me a Deer,” “Flesh Colored House.” So it’s complicated, ‘kay? Anybody who thinks Grubbs “got sophisticated” should hear this stuff, and Squirrel Bait too. It’s always been there, just in a hard-coated shell.

So hearing there’d finally be a two-for reissue of Diablo Guapo and Sing the Troubled Beast, the two long-gone Homestead albums, I was psyched, despite knowing them like the back of your mother’s hand. Then, hearing there’d be an additional live disc of stuff that would later be reworked into the early Gastr stuff, I was amazed. I mean, like, I knew Dave, Bundy and John were playing that stuff, but I never heard it then. Hell, like Slint, I never got to see Bastro live then, either.

But then, intrigue. Apparently there’s still some remnant of Homestead or Dutch East India left with enough gumption to threaten legal action (I’m no lawyer, but I’d think for contracts to be valid the record company has to hold up their end too, ie. PAY THE FUCKING BANDS), and now they’re “temporarily unavailable.” But never fear, the fine folks at Drag City will sort it out.

3. I think your brain likes it, your brain has a flaw

Now here’s where we get personal. Just kidding. Unlike Slint or Bastro, I saw Crain a whole mess of times, even booked ’em once. The running joke among the “oldsters” (no offense again!) was that Crain was like Bastro trying to play Slint. But fuck that, from where I’m standing, they’re just as essential, if you’re still hanging with me long enough to read about this Louisville stuff. Plus they were the first band that I really felt like, wow, these guys are only a little bit older than me, they’re doing it (yeah Squirrel Bait were preppy teens playing shows with G.G. Allin but I never saw them either).

So Speed. Record release show, one Sunday night sometime in the haze that is 1991, at Another Place Sandwich Shop on Frankfort Avenue. Hula Hoop and Sebadoh, two great bands in their own right, are also playing. I’d seen Crain a bunch, mind blown repeatedly, but this was it. Bought my copy with the special glow-in-the-dark cover (like only 200 made, eBayers!), complete with palindrome on record sleeve. Have listened repeatedly ever since.

I don’t think anybody could’ve predicted on that Sunday night the troubles Crain would succumb to over the coming years, and I’m not the one to catalog them. Suffice to say, if you experienced it, you know. Maybe that’s a cop-out, I dunno, but fuck it. Somehow, the master tapes survived years in a storage unit — and yielded 4 more songs to boot! How typically Louisville, in its way.

4. Godfuckingdammit

Yeah, there’s been some bumps on the road since January. Hunter S. Thompson’s dead. You can’t get those Bastro CDs yet. Uptight Britweenies have been dissing Slint’s live shows through the anonymous comfort of the internet. But it doesn’t matter. It’s here. It’s 2005.