Wire 073(1136) copyright 1025w


This show was put together for some tape release with Caroliner, the Thrones, and Ethel Meatplow on it. I saw no trace of a tape at the show even tho' there were flyers for it. Some stupid art gimmick. It don't matter.

It was a perfect SF night. Getting off a 9 San Bruno bus I saw several artifacts of human antics which turned out to be the best possible intro for the show. Two bums were arguing about how many colors they could make their faces turn, but both could only redden them before stopping. Then I saw a huge fuckin' rat eating gum off the curb. I shook off my heart jump by yelling and stomping and it took off.

When inside the Gallery, I saw a man cutting off pubic hair to be used in the show, pants halfway down, too.

Merchants of the New Bizarre played first and longest. They did every bad song of the 70's that you could imagine. Included were Brady Bunch, Partridge Family and Gilligan's Island themes done in a sick medley. Laughing at the clarinet, tuba, guitar and vocal quartet, the audience asked for more and more 70's stuff until all systems were freed of the terrible memories the Merchants destroyed and twisted. Their Nixon mask coin collector filled up with quarters and dimes.

Then came Tommy Tadlock. He played cutesy cowboy/bestiality music. When getting too cute he'd bang himself up somehow on the ground or something to break it up into something more entertaining. Ethel Meatplow played after him, doing Nina Hagen/J. Lee Hooker acoustic folk with hilarious lyrics. Songs of tranquilizers and fettucine. He started the set by popping out some false teeth and had a face like a mean hog fucker after that .

The Meatplow set ended with Caroliner members and an organist making some incredible noises, including a spoon in a can of cat food and a bottle (which was broken). A good set, definitely.

Caroliner Rainbow Heart of Dirt Pump played with black lights and now a neon sign that was turned on an off during the show. There was a seesaw flatworm hat on one member, and a new member playing drums with fluorescent shepherd's crooks.

One of the guitar players had a solo where he looked like he had stubs and no hands and I swear to something or other that I heard a calliope in an instrumental they did. A song announced as "Coaxing the Mirk Toy" had the giant drummer (a female?) and the lead bassist doing a drum-less duet which ended in a shower of fluorescent red water from a bag somewhere between the bassist's legs.

When they took the equipment away there was oatmeal caked on the shoes of the stubby guitarist. It may not have been real, though. Jesus Christ, who knows?

Since the show was on a thursday I left too soon to see the other bands but I'd seen my $3 worth anyway.

Cindy Jericho


Rumor had it that ABC was changing their name to the "Titfucking Great Snakes", so with this in mind the grotesque jesters pulped Moe Tucker, brought it to a boil with heavy/wimpy noisy rock assault and the wicked circus in a barf-filled sink was brought to the Lipps Underground with 5 goddam girl drummers. A pounding assault.

Compared to their demo tape, which is incredible with different vocal distortion backdrops here and there, ABC seems very simple and tame until the 5 goddam girl drummers kick in, each with a separate backwards hormone/solar system going in and out of sync with the others. Like their hell, they set up the red lights at Lipps, along with the omnipotent black light. Your skin turns to hair spray vapors that ABC have a torch to hold to.

With pencil and paper the doorman wrote down whose body parts were where as the audience disoriented themselves into confusion/love or yelling and screaming and pulling out hair to lengthen the list. "Wow" I think was the last word uttered as the last guitarist and drummer jumped ship from the great amount of people who were just staring with flycatching open mouths. I guess their name is now: __________ (fill in).

Caroliner opened up some long-sealed ultraviolet doors from the 1800's, giving the same effect as a pioneer 6 days without food deciding to look at his long-dead wife who sits up in the sky half an inch to the right of the sun.

This is what he saw after ABC. Gimplegged idiot running back and forth trying to put out a "FLAMMABLE" sign hung on his leg. A dapper clarinet player (who was flashed some skin after the show, ola!) An indian maiden with a corset necklace covering most of the soundmaking skin. 3 or 4 drummers wandering around cracking jokes that no one could hear and twirling drum sticks as if they were trying to throw them away.

Chairs swept up out from under patrons and worn like ornery dinnerwear around the wrists and neck. A half-ghost/half-cowpoke walking through tables as if they were not there (but they were, ha ha, so a few beers got spilled and some people dove for the floor). A finger-chewing guitarist with all the might of a walking cane full of termites helping to play a long piped-out version of "Yerubae" with false starts/stops/instrumental breaks and the doorman raving at everyone to pick up their coats, arms, hearts, intestines, urine samples etc. and leave, for it were that fateful 1:30 let's-go home time. He had quite a voice.

I had quite a vision; the cheapest time trip ($3) I've ever taken. I felt almost like Little House on the Prairie had held my hand so hard the girls grew forked beards and the males had sinuous grass-chewin' bull lips for bodies. O yeah it was fun.

Cindy Jericho

Typed by Cheryl Vega 6-18-95