November happenings

It's been busy and frenzied, my children...

At the beginning of the month, we debuted our new lineup and opened for The Spinto Band at Bottom of the Hill.  It was awesome, as exhibited here:

The Chop was a vicious task-master of rock that eve I can pledge!

The boys of Spinto hopped up and helped us close the show with our whiskey-fueled anthem to Wilmington, Delaware.  The Spintos are a killer band and awesome dudes to boot.  Please send love/money their way whenever possible.

Also--HUGE NEWS:

"We Want It All" is available on iTunes, Amazon.com, Rhapsody and a host of other digital music vendors.  Access!  But here's the really big one.

The Chop's record slip-slithered its way into the Pandora database.  

This is actually a monumentally awesome development in our world.  If you don't know what Pandora is, please go check it out immediately.  It's a terrificly easy-to-use resource for music, and it is 100% FREE. Now we spend all day listening to the other songs that the massive Music Genome Project deems similar to our own.  You have no idea how rewarding an experience this can be.

Coming soon for The Chop:  new songs, new album, new outfits, new haircuts, and a new unquenchable lust for power!

Hurrah!

New song + New lineup + Album in stores + Help needed

Dear constituents,

Many things have been happening here in the hearts and minds of The Chop. Here's a summary:

1. We are hard at work on our new lineup for the November 2nd gig with The Spinto Band.  Tom has stepped forward and taken over the bass guitar.   And with that change, we've also got a new drummer, Aaron.  He's awesome.  Check out his exploits/skills with his other band Pegataur, or with his old band BoyJazz.

2. Our album, We Want It All is now available at record stores across this great country!  (literally,  two stores that are at diametrically opposed spots of the continent).

Get it at:

Amoeba Records in San Francisco, California  (1855 Haight Street)

or

Rainbow Records in Newark, Delaware (54 E Main Street)

Please please please go in and promptly fondle/buy it.

It's also available online now at CDBaby, and soon at various other digital outlets (updates to follow)

3. We have written and recorded a new song entitled "Born in Wilmington", a tribute to our hometown of Wilmington, Delaware.  The song is in the form of a traditional Irish drinking song and is meant to be sung loudly, whilst drinking.  Lyrics are here.

It is available for the listening/downloading on our various sites and also, here it be:

Fancy yourself a writer?  "Born in Wilmington" is just begging to have more verses written.

We ourselves cut at least three from this recording.  If you submit a verse that we like, we'll send you something cool (I swear) and maybe even sing it on stage.  So submit one.  Or just write us and tell us what you think.  About anything.  

Wondering how you can help us out?

Right now what we need is reviews, writeups or mentions of any kind.  Please pass our info along to anyone who will listen.  Download our songs (album here) (drinking song here) and pass them around as much as you can.

Thank you.

Led Zeppelin II "Heartbreaker" solos do not happen in a vaccuum,

robert

My Dogs are Tired: Part II of Rob's Reportage on the Treasure Island Festival

Day 2: Sunday

I admit that I kinda didn't feel like going again on this day.  This was partly based on weariness, as I'd gone out and drank a passel the evening before at Zeitgeist,  and partly because I had a strong idea that I'd already had my peak experience with the festival (TV on the Radio the night before).  But I dragged my ass there anyway, free ticket and all, because their were bands worth seeing for sure, and I figured I'd go for awhile and leave once it got old.

The highlight of the day (my day) was Okkervil River.  The sound was good, the band was tight, and they played the songs I most wanted to hear (mainly the first two songs off The Stage Names).  They can be a bit too melodramatic for my taste sometimes, and yes the lyrics are the sort written by a proud Bachelor of English, but fuck it, I like them anyway.  As I garner from my friends, the lead singer Will Sheff may have come off a bit cheesy in his stage antics and crowd banter had I not been right up front and sort of into it.  Again we see an example of how proximity has an almost eerily mathemathical relationship with fun times had.  Okkervil barely edged out the boys in (my other favorite act) Dr. Dog primarily by performing on the big stage (with bigger, better sound) and having lots of energy.

On to the Dog...

They sounded awesome.  My brief history with this band:  About 4 years ago, their record Easy Beat reached my hands (via fellow Chopsman Philby, then living in the Eastern lands) and quickly attained classic status in my mind.  The entire Chop geeked out on this record months on end, and I went to see Dr Dog everytime they came through SF in the last few years and even a few times in their hometown of Philadelphia while I was in the Tri-State Mother-Area for Christmas.  During this period, they toured incessantly, released another record (great, but not quite as classic), and I saw them like 6 times in 3 years.  After this, I admit I was slightly burned out on them...still thinking they were cool as shit, but ready for a break from their stylings.  I guess they made at least a little (read: very very little, like close to zero) money because they were able to stop touring for a few months to record yet another record (Fate) which just came out.  

Anyway, it had been awhile since seeing this perennial favorite of mine, and I was excited to hear the new songs performed.  They were boss.  The songs sounded great.  The harmonies were tight. The drummer, in particular, sounded awesome.  We all agreed that he was either really on that night or took a couple steps up in ability or just maybe wrote way sicker parts for himself for all the newer arrangements.  Anyway you slice it, he hit hard.  

I guess the only drawback was they looked kinda tired.  Minus the drummer, the dudes looked worn out and not quite their usual, bouncy selves.  At least one person completely disagreed with me on this point, so, maybe I'm tripping.  Either way--they really rock the new songs and are definitely maturing as a band.  More good shit to come, for sure.

I also saw Spiritualized...who everyone (including Eric, who I took with me) was raving about beforehand.  The performance, to me, was extremely boring and too damn loud.  The lead singer stood facing at a right angle to the audience, never said a word, and wanked philosophic on hella long noise solos. The band didn't move at all or look like they were having fun.  Drag. Also--the show really was wicked loud and on top of that, during one song, the soundguy fell asleep on the slider or something because it cranked the band up to painful, Master D-in-the-end-sequence-of-Bionic-Commando-head-exploding volume.  Extra lame, to my mind.

I watched some of The Dodos, who around these parts are being heralded as pop music saviors with wine in hand, and they were definitely good. Their drummer is really really talented.  Best part of their set is they had a third guy (there are technically only two Dodos) on a riser in the back who would occasionally pop up from under a table to play xylophone.  When he was waiting for his parts, he'd be hiding under this table, and then when it came he'd pop up to play and be really energetic.  He really reminded me of a Muppet.

I skipped Vampire Weekend--who were maybe the biggest draw that day--because I saw them for free at Amoeba around a year ago.  This was, I'd say, directly before the hype machine throttled them fully (out here, at least).  I had not heard their music at that point, and was taken by Eric (the same who attended Treasure Island with me) who is infinitely more ahead of the curve then I am on any given Tuesday.  I think they have a cool sound but nothing spectacular going on in the way of performance, so saved myself the trouble and sat listening from afar while waiting for Dr. Dog to play.

I got tired and left before The Raconteurs, who I would have liked to see (I'm a big Jack White fan, and I've never seen him live) but honestly who look better on paper than they actually are. If it had been the Stripes instead--I would have made it work, but instead I went home and considered my opinions.

What's sort of interesting is that the festival organizers divided the two days' lineup at least partially by genre (loading up Saturday with more electro-dancey stuff, and Sunday with the scruffily bearded gems of modern indie rock) so you might assume a Chopster like me would go in more for the latter of the two days. Not so. In quick summary, the first day had lower expectations and more surprises, while the second day was sort of opposite.

I await your call, 

rob

The Three Keyboard Minimum is Strictly Enforced: Part 1

I attended the Treasure Island music festival this weekend, saw lots of cool bands, and have lots of highly informed and sophisticated opinions for the proffering.  Behold!

Since atmosphere is everything..let me briefly sum up my some very general experiences with the concert, as all my opinions are beholden to it.  

Firstly: I won tickets to both days!

The free-ness of this (for me) event affected my opinions (positively, I think) throughout the weekend.  Like many frugal young men, I'm usually conscious of trying to get my money's worth out of a ticket purchase. After a couple of the sets I'd be thinking, "damn, that one totally made it worth the money," then I'd remind myself that I paid exactly zero and think, "man, that was definitely worth leaving the comfort of my apartment for" and so on. 

Second thing you should know--I did not see all the bands or even try to.  I was definitely of the mind that in order to "hear every note" of music at the 2-day affair (very possible) one would be compromising any real ability to see actual "shows."  Basically, it's the idea that if you're not close to the stage or as I like to say "up in the mix" you're not really at the show.  If you're way back in a field you're more of a casual observer and to my mind are not having "the full experience." For some reason that paragraph was laden with "quotation marks" denoting "specific phraseology" that seemed to "require it" at the time.

On to the show:

The best set that I saw was without a doubt TV on the Radio.  These guys brought it hard and distorted.  I had been geeking out to their records for the last few months, so I was primed for a good time, and so we staked a spot early (forgoing some other decent acts) and were right in front for the set.  A good performance should do (at least) one of two things:  1. Hook you into liking songs (or the band itself) that you've  never heard before or 2. significantly enhance the songs you already know from the record, adding to and expanding what the recording has to offer.   TVOTR did both, but particularly the latter of the two.  They were the complete opposite of boring.  They had energy, they had horns (courtesy of Antibalas), they had shitloads of soul, and their guitar player had chimes hanging from the headstock of his Telecaster.  And also Kyp was really really awesome.

They played some songs from their new record (which is out Tuesday and which, I heard from my friends who are significantly more download-savvy, is great) but also killed the first three songs off Desperate Youth, Bloodthirsty Babes.  "Wolf Like Me" off Return to Cookie Mountain was also a fuzzed out highlight.  On their records, they use this technique where they augment the lead vocal with another that's an octave above on a lot of the tracks.  It creates a very distinctive sound and is awesome.  Even awesomer was (after seeing photos of the band) realizing that Kyp (see above) does this vocal.  Both him and Tunde are bad ass singers, and the whole band just rocks really effing hard.

I saw Hot Chip on Saturday, and I really dug them.  This was a band I hadn't really heard much of...and based on what I knew didn't think they'd work so well playing at 3PM in a not super crowded field.  But they sounded great with like four keyboards and lots of percussive stuff going on and people on stage running around and switching it up.  They were a nice surprise, because their records sound like straight synthed-out dance music, so when they had a drummer and full rock-a-thon band going, it was cool.  I was a bit farther back for this one, but close enough to feel good about it.

I was front and center for  Goldfrapp as well, mainly because I was saving an awesome spot for TVOTR who were up after them.  My friend described them to me before the show as "music that a girl listens to while cleaning her bedroom."  I found that description to be really vivid and fairly accurate.  Not my style at all.  Euro-scenesters who wore all white and rocked (at one point) two keytars simultaneously.

CSS seemed like they could be cool at one of their regular shows (i.e. a packed and sweaty club with tons of dancing), but by this point in the night I was kinda zonked and didn't feel much like pushing into the fray near the stage.  I watched most of the set, but from afar, so I can't really count this one. LoveFoxxx looked cool though.

The aspect of these festivals that makes all my friends (and often me) cringe is that you can't help but get a diluted version of these bands, and it's not really the same as seeing their proper show.  Because of the stage proximity problem, you have to pick and choose a few solid experiences...but truthfully, even if I could have an easy shot at seeing 10 awesome bands in a row right up front under the best possible conditions, I simply couldn't handle it.  I mean, my aged feet and back couldn't handle it, but also my mind couldn't hang.  After a couple, my senses are overloaded.  I need to go home, digest and analyze, and reboot the machine.

ready to roll,

rob

Prattletoads

No news.  The Dark Queen haunts my waking life.

This game is ridiculous.

Must prioritize my life.

B-Toads Update

Day 3: Last night I played through the Elevator Shaft and on into the Gargantuan Ducts...where I promptly withered and died. I had been playing a decent but not stellar game, and this fact may have helped.  Forward progress in the game is becoming increasingly based on memorization 

I was confused on this point but now I feel sure: I have never seen the level beyond this one. This means I'm back at my 12-year old ability level after three days of playing.  Onward!

Also--check this out:

http://www.battletoadsmovie.com/

Must be fake, right?

Join Me in My (Eventual) TRIUMPH!

Dear NightMarchers,

I really want to keep you updated as to what's going on in my life these days.  Something really quite big has come up:

Check it!

When my friend forwarded this to me, I went through a range of emotions.  Naturally, I immediately called the rankings of "Most Difficult VideoGame Ever" into question.  I mean...it was total popularity contest, with no mention of such ridiculously difficult games (from my own experience) such as Kid Chameleon, Gauntlet, Snake Rattle and Roll, or Hudson's Adventure Island.  But these arguments are a trifle, and we all know it.  Once my initial ire had calmed,  I immediately knew what my path would be.  Spurred on by this far-from-definitive Internet list, I set my sights on the game in the top spot.  Lucky for me, it was one I knew well and still owned in its original format.  If you made it through the video, you know I am referring to Battletoads for NES.

Each level is like a different game.  You only get three measly continues.  The Wikipedia article even acknowledges how tough the damn game is.

A little background on my relationship with the Toads of Battle:  like many games I've played and/or owned I've always harbored a lust to conquer it completely, and I've made several earnest attempts throughout the years to do so (alas, in vain!).  Even while my brain was disputing it's newly given rank of "most difficult" I knew from experience that it was, at the very least, extremely difficult and therefore worth my renewed attention and vigor.  In addition to that, I was already well-trained in the nuances of the game, so I wouldn't be starting from scratch at all, simply building on an already impressive skill set.  Furthermore, when I've "re-attacked" these old games in my "adult" life, I like to think that my general skills have improved and that my age and experience has produced a sort of "wisdom" that allows me to reach my goals a bit easier.  Unlike my life-defining experience with Snake Rattle and Roll in 2003 (a game that was made impossible to beat without a simultaneously playing partner) Battletoads, while having a two player option, is actually (appearing to be) significantly easier with one player.  With no liege to train, I begin.

Day 1 (Sunday):

Played for a couple hours, where it was quickly determined that a. 2-players simultaneous is significantly more difficult to manage (reasons of friendly fire primarily) and b. James is not nearly as well-versed in the game after several attempts as I am at baseline.

Achieved level 6 (Snake level) fairly easily but this presented the first significant hurdle.

Conquered and moved on to the Fire Pit area, and subsequently the Elevator Shaft.  Got stuck there.

Day 2 (Monday):  Blew through all previously defeated levels, made it to the Elevator Shaft (level 8) with multiple lives and zero continues wasted.  I got all the way to the boss and blew it.  I was so disgusted with myself and did not wish to continue the game.  Must remember to be watchful for this phenomenon.  In retrospect, I should have played through my allotted continues for the practice.

I will keep you updated on my progress so that you may share in this wonder of Nintendo prowess and/or marvel at my life's lack of significance in this arena.

rob 

Where Did the Time Go?

Dear Future Celebrities,

Having plumbed the depths of description for The Chop's everyday life and times, I've decided to delve a bit deeper and start looking at the root causes and themes recurrent in The Chop mythology. Here I refer (quite pretentiously) to video games.

Video games were always a huge part of all our lives. But there's a few in particular that I myself played incessantly: for hours, days, months, and in some cases years on end. These select few games got played into the ground, forever imprinting themselves on my (and in most cases our) collective psyche, and will now be discussed in a segment I'm calling "Where Did The Time Go?"

Installment 1: Street Fighter II: The World Warrior


Street Fighter II  changed my life. There is absolutely no denying this fact. I was probably about 10 or 11 when a console got installed into my local foodery, and Street Fighter II entered my life. The Newport, DE 7-11 (which comes up a lot in Chop lore) is a 20 minute walk from my parents house.  This walk, which is easily and often made, became all the more appealing with roll of quarters in my fist and the promise of hand to hand (or in this case hand to button) competitive fighting.  I played a lot of this game.

The appreciation of video games, particularly those that are chronologically and graphically outdated, is something all Chop brothers share.  There's something about when a game, or more accurately a style of game, hits the crest of a wave and reaches a golden moment of perfect form.  For one-on-one fighting games, Street Fighter II was this moment.  I seized this moment (as well as thousands of other moments) to stand in front of this machine and play the shit out of this game.

The premise of the game is simple.  Fighters from around the world fly in private jets to fight each other on Russian factory floors, in the crowded streets of Hong Kong, or in the large private bathrooms of the Japanese aristocracy.  The gameplay is also pretty straightforward: 3 kick options and 3 punch options and really only a small number of combinational moves somehow translated to (seemingly) limitless hours of entertainment.  This was a game where the natural inclination to mash buttons was rewarded in spades, but to chalk up SFII as a "button masher" is not doing it justice.  It was just sophisticated enough to capture the nation's minds and just universal enough to simultaneously set our hearts aflame!  All this led directly me to play the living crap out of this game.

The Stats:

Favorite character:  although I eventually migrated over to using Chun-Li, I gotta go with Blanka on this.  His ferocity and overall yellowness wins out.

Total amount of time squandered/cherished: At least a full week's worth of my life

Readiness to take on a new challenger:  Super-fucking ready (bring it!)  

The Gil Reunion Tour: Recap!

Here's a few choice moments, captured on film this past weekend as The Chop headed Eastward, over treacherous mountains, through Reno backalleys, across the Salt Flats, and into the sparkling sprawl of Salt Lake City:

Reno Party Time!

James before he "does his face"

Our name on the marquee in SLC!

A summary of what we ate and/or almost ate on this trip:

Arby's (almost! Tom's Arb-dar was on the fritz for the first couple of hours), In and Out, Arby's, Broasted Chicken (almost! It would have been an extra 45 minutes!), Arby's, $0.75 tacos, Dum Dums, lots of Michelob and some desert-heated whiskey straight from the bottle. 

The Chop needs vegetables.

Download The Chop's New Record FREE!

Dear Everyone,

It's been a long road.  There were many setbacks, many triumphs, and many lessons learned.  It is here:

Please download it, enjoy it, and share it with everyone you know.

Thank you,

The Chop

No, no, don't worry! I have a Ding King!

Dear Chumleys,

When I returned home from a short vacation two weeks ago, I went out to check on my car (my beloved 1998 Honda Civic) which had been parked outside my apartment for the duration of the trip.  I was less than pleased to learn that someone had kicked it.  Just kicked it, for no reason.  Some jerk was walking by and just decided to give it a boot.  I came home to a huge dent (on the sidewalk side of the car) and a visible boot print in the accumulated car-dirt.  The car is getting on in years, and I'm no longer able to concern myself with every small dent or scratch that it incurs, but this was a particularly well-aimed tolchock which connected with "Vickie" at a sweet spot directly in front of the passenger side door, rendering the door unopenable.  Well actually, to be fair, the door was openable, but not all the way, and opening it more than 6 inches caused the dent to get even denty-er.  I was disheartened but not un-optimistic when I biked over to the Kragen Auto Parts store later that week, fully believing that if I could only obtain the right caliber of "As-Seen-On-TV" product, I could make an easy fix of this problem.  This is when the "Ding King" entered my life.

At first I was a little skeptical. The DIY dent fix kit I had envisioned involved a high-powered magnet.  The Ding King uses hot glue instead, but not that wuss-level, fashion-design-school-dropout, high-energy-Surprise-Rock-band-makes-their-own-T-shirts-style opaquely white glue...the Ding King hot glue gun uses balls-to-the-wall black glue.  The glue of Hades!  I figured it'd be worth a try.  One thing that slowed up my use of the system was the fact that I needed an outlet (to heat the glue gun) within reach of my car.  This is an impossibility at my apartment, and so the job waited another week before I took it over to Phil's place, where he, Jimbo and I finally got to it this Sunday late afternoon.  

Amazingly, the Ding King worked!  

Yeah it took some figuring out, and yeah we had to use it repeatedly, and yeah we finished the job with Philby's silverware sub'd as a makeshift crowbar, but it must be noted: the task was accomplished in huge part due to the design and execution of the Ding King DIY dent removal kit.  

Also--though the instructional video (above) makes no mention of removing the black glue spots from your car, we were able to do it with boiling water and a small plastic scraper! Yes!

Just before we got done with it, I did manage to give myself probably the worst burn I've ever had (hot glue really really really hurts).  

And only hours after a manicure!

Once the passenger side door became fully functional again shortly thereafter, I considered the "thumb slug" a fairly reasonable downside to what was actually a financially triumphant situation (a $20 fix for a $300+ problem!).

Damn was I ever proud of myself and my friends for being so resourceful and frugal and even innovative.  And as a patted myself on the back for a job well done, I scoffed at my own skepticism about an awesome product like the Ding King.  Billy Mays: Rock Onward, my friend.

If you have a "ding" that needs some "kinging" you should definitely talk to me.

Then last night after the Islands show up in North Beach and some pretty killer Indian food in the Tenderloin, as I'm driving Jimmy and Ariana back to Potrero, some guy broadsides us at a four way stop and manages to hit the exact spot of the original boot-induced ding. Everyone's OK, but the car is hurting bad.  The Ding King definitely cannot handle this one.

Owner of a lonely heart, 

robbie "my fleet of cars is dwindling" kassees

Best of Tour Photo!

Patriots of the Mark,

Finally---I present to you The Chop's long-awaited "best of tour" picture:

This gem was taken in Dunsmuir California, up past Mount Shasta somewhere on the way to Portland.  We played at a bar in Sacramento, and drove about 3 hours north to camp on a Thursday night.  We were able to close our eyes for approximately 2.5 hours before Jimmy Southbound's ringing phone woke me up at 6AM Friday and I kicked the C-Team into action.  We ate a sweet breakfast here in Dunsmuir, cursing and sniping at each other (but polite, always polite America) across our eggs.  We did garner some stares.  The waitress, for her part, was able to deduce that we were in a band, and once our cover was blown--we headed out.

Apparently, Dunsmuir (the town) is a pioneer in the civically-minded technique of "Organized Stalking."  It's their way to get undesirables to leave town, most notably vagrants, sex-offenders, and scruffy-looking city-kids with gleams of hope in their eyes.  They employ a nonviolent (aka "softball") form of harassment to methodically purge their peaceful hamlet (population: ~2000) so as to keep their streets clean and their children pure.  Seriously, this is taken directly from the Wikipedia article on Dunsmuir.  I'm sure if we had stuck around a little longer we could have gotten some better sense of these techniques, but alas the gods of Rock urged us northward!  

We pulled into Marty's house in Portland that Friday afternoon and staked our claim to his land.

Marty is an awesome guy who I'm sure will someday have a big, beat-up, blue van, but fuck that!  We managed to get one first!

That's right!  In case you did not know--we bought a van!  

Hooray for us!!!

It didn't end there, friends...no it did not!  But I grow weary of typing.  

Apoplecticly yours,
rob-otic hand is playing oboe like a champ!

5 Simple Steps For Playing The Worst Gig Ever

We at The Chop do not believe in self-deprecation. We feel it is unbecoming and anti-productive for any rock band to hold their own music in anything but the highest regard. That said we all encounter trials in our lives and can, from time to time, learn from these sub-optimal experiences. It is with that in mind that we at The Chop bring to you five simple steps for playing the worst gig ever. This list works as both a "how to" and a "things to avoid" list for all you budding rock bands out there...good luck.


Step #1 - Forget Your Amp
Lou Reed said, "All you need is three chords and an attitude". He never said anything about the audience hearing those three chords.

Step #2 - If You Do Bring An Amp, Blow It Up 2 Songs Deep
The only thing cooler than not brining an amp at all is bringing a totally boss amp and then not being able to use it, because you blew it up.

Step #3 - Don't Sound Check; Not Even A Little Bit
Pussies check sound, men just roll with it. This goes back to Steps #1 and #2. Though it may seem counter-intuitive, sound quality and rock and roll are unrelated topics.

Step #4 - Set The Bar High, Really High!
By playing right after an awesome band you can make a lower quality performance come off as a downright awful performance. A good way to go about this is to play with a band you have gigged with before, but not in a long time. Through this you will know that your sounds are compatible (and therefore comparable), but you will have no clue how much better they have gotten. Hopefully for you they are WAY WAY WAY better than the last time you played with them.

Step #5 - Documentation
If you are going to follow the aforementioned steps to the worst gig ever why not take it to the next level and get that puppy on tape? Be a man, get audio and video. This is VERY important, if you get rock solid sound and video from the show so you can stew in your own suck for years to come.


- Philly "34 year old tube amps are totally legit gig amps" Matarese

Million Dollar Bash

Hey Jealousies,

Thanks so much to anyone and everyone who trekked all the way out to The Retox Lounge last Friday night for The Chop show.
Who knew the 22 line went so damn far?

The stage at Retox is in the basement, which reminded us of Delaware since San Francisco doesn't really have basements. It felt very much like the basement in your parents' house; the one where your memories of playing Milan's Secret Castle on NES or watching hopelessly-scrambled softcore pornography occur. There was even a fridge in the back with a couple cases of Pabst, and some Hot Pockets in the freezer.

Goodbye Nautilus had their show debut and they killed it...nice style on these guys. Warren Teagarden was having a CD release and the night was going along smooth. Then The Chop came out and made a mess.







Then James got really somber and started feasting (somewhat insatiably) on the flesh of the living. It seemed a little out of character for him...but we all just went with it.



no pRoblem

History in the Making: Part 2

DONE!!!!

We rolled into our makeshift studio for the week (Tom's room) and killed it dead.

Except it's ALIVE!

and also DONE!

The long months of recording in closets: done. Working around the noise of the N-Judah (every 10 minutes!): done. Crazy buzzing from the improper voltage in our bedrooms: done. Bemoaning the voodoo curses which periodically plague our gear: DUH-UNN. There'll be no more debating who gets kazoo credit, or which of the stereo glockenspiel tracks to use, or whether the black tambourine is better than the red tambourine (it is, by the way...don't ask me why). These things are FINISHED! Never again will we improvise harmonies on a whim and then fight tenaciously to keep them in because they've always been a part of our "vision" for the song. DONE! DOUBLE DONE!

Here's some pictures illustrating how fucking done we are:











Thanks to everyone who helped us out with this thing over the last 8 months...but particularly thanks to the girls (Jen, Ariana, Shannon, Nikki, Jade, and Jenny) who lent their voices to The Chop last Sunday for some timeless backgrounds.
We're gonna push it through the next two stages (mixing and mastering) as soon as possible, and have a finished product in about 5 weeks.

Commencing countdown, engines on....

Ashes to Ashes-era Rob

History in the Making: Part 1

Dudes and Dudettes,

The Chop is (for real) one freaking day away from finishing our damn record.

We effing swear.

In conjunction with this impending, momentous occasion, and as a special treat for you, the rebellious youths who have so made us so popular, here is a brand new song.  It's called The Pace. It's only a rough mix (courtesy of Hollywood P.) but hopefully that'll be enough for you to continue on for another day.

Sunday Sunday Sunday!

Rest assured all appropriate historic moments (I told you it would be momentous) will be photographed, analyzed, catalogued, and placed carefully inside an earth-orbiting pod known as "The Timeless Project" so that futuristic civilizations can learn about the legacy we have wrought.

be excellent to each other,

rob

The Pace:

Boosh for the masses

This unsolicited tag has demonstrated to us, the men/boys of The Chop, that we are on the verge of a cultural revolution - Snoop Dogg-style.

While we cannot claim to have coined the phrase, The Chop definitely credits our own Jimmy Southbound with the introduction of the term to our group, the west coast, and the correct use of the term (according to the unwashed masses at Urban Dictionary - see definition 1).

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=boosh

It seems like only yesterday that I posted a cartoon to The Chop's MySpace page resulting in the evil, tyrannical, hateful, villain that is Johnny Bass Magrans trying in vain to end The Boosh Revolution. It was very frustrating. For weeks every time my ears would echo with the sweet sweet sound "boosh", John would say "boosh is dead, give it up", then he would blame me.... "you ruined it". Well Bass, you were wrong. Dead wrong. BOOSH!!!


- Philly Boosh Matarese

The DIY Aesthetic - A Cautionary Tale

In December 2006, The Chop completed their first bit of recorded material, and decided to have it printed up under the name "Gold Stars". At the time we were, quite naturally, very excited. Over one year later and amidst the numerous emails that continue to flood our inboxes praising our unbelievable production value therein, we are able to look back on those days with at least some measure of wisdom and maturity. We've made some questionable decisions over these past two years, many of which have resulted in us spending lots of money on things we don't need (or that don't work) or us doing lots of work on stuff that no one cares about (or doesn't "work"). But today, amigitos, read the saga that is...(ominous music)


THE MAKING OF GOLD STARS

Now...before I go any further...I don't want to come off as bitter. Money was meant to be spent after all, and time was meant to be wasted, all in the name of fun. It just continually cracks me up the way The Chop tends to process its ideas. Please note: I am most certainly one of the biggest culprits of this, so I'm really just laughing at myself to take some of the immediate pain and tedium away from.....

THE MAKING OF GOLD STARS

Let me tell a bit about the saga of making these CD packages. We decided that it would be cool if each copy of the disc could be personalized, by us. This is not a completely original idea (as I've seen other bands execute it) so I have to wonder how their processes differed from ours, and if they went through the same range of emotions (from self-congratulatory happiness, to self-satisfied efficiency, to self-immolating hatred of this concept). The Chop may never know.

In any case--The Chop opted to purchase an inordinate amount of these printed discs (1000), and the printer forgot to turn off the machine in time, and therefore printed an extra 180 copies, which they gladly gave over to us. This means we set ourselves up to "decorate" (by sticker and sharpie marker) 1180 of these discs, front and back.



Like most grandiose schemes it was fun in the beginning. We all got together on a Friday night and worked for a few hours, drinking, laughing, and commending ourselves on our ingenuity. It really seemed like we made a whole bunch of them. Like, at the time, in my drunken state, having worked for around 3 hours with the entire Chop crew and others, I would have ventured to guess that we would have completed around 100, or maybe 150 of these things.

In fact--we made just over 50. 50 of 1188.

This was the first indication. The first indication of the true treacherousness of what we would come to know as...

THE FUCKING MAKING OF GOLD STARS

We got together a few more times like this, each subsequent meeting becoming less and less jolly...all for the purpose of manufacturing this CD package in droves. As our interest deteriorated, I came up with an idea. We distributed all necessary equipment to each Chopsman's apartment, and we made a little bet: Ten CDs a week were to be turned in by each man. The motivation? Not having the discs meant a 5 dollar (cash) contribution to a fund: a shot fund, for the purpose of buying shots of booze once the ordeal was over. Ingenious, yes? Using alcohol payment as punishment, yes? Despite an initial snag when Tommy "Lone Wolf" opted not to participate because "betting" for "alcohol" is "childish" and also "dumb" -- the plan worked smashingly and the CDs began to be churned out.

Everything was going great--we were nearing our goal, we were nearing our shots (the fund grew to 50 dollars)...then we hit a brick wall. We lost our rhythm, America. Our rhythm! The shot fund (which we all agreed could only be used once all Gold Stars discs were completed) reached an almost unfathomable 80 dollars. With only 200 or so left to go...a compromise was reached. I was paid a nominal fee to finish the damn things, once and for all.

A small sampling of some of the ones I made today:


It was long. It was hard. I laughed. I cried. I hurled. But now, friends...it is done!

DONE!

Bring on the shots!


don't i know you from the cinematographer's party?,
rob

Straight out of New Castle

Vintage:



Modern:



Great taste! Nothing has changed! Tom still thinks Pink Floyd is "dank!"

Brasilians love Antonio Carlos Jobim (and other news)

Dear Loyalists,

Apart from The Chop having had a hell of a weekend, things are sluggish at best on this post-President's Day Tuesday afternoon in rainy old San Francisco. Over the hoilday we managed to rock Davis and Bottom of the Hill (both) with a little hard drinking at a skeevy, subterranean, motown-jukebox-having Japantown bar in between. With few to no pictures back yet from either gig, I will speak of them only briefly, in hopes that the events will be much better immortalized with clever captions and pedantic sentence structures at some future date.

The G Street Pub in Davis was great. We did not receive any bar napkin hatemail or anti-beard rhetoric this time, but managed to retain our ability to impress the UC Davis crowd with our big-city born, Arby's-induced melodies. We played with Sacramento band Pets who we all agreed were great, so please check them out.
The Bottom of the Hill show on Sunday night was truly awesome. It was hands down the best night of music we've ever been a part of. The crowd was great, The Chop was in stride, and the headliners were amazing. Sugar and Gold went on after us. They have that fine tuned sense of fun that we Delawareans always admire. Grand Ole Party played last and, seriously, if you have chance to see these guys on tours up and coming, please do. They were a commanding presence on the stage, with killer rhythm, vocals...you name it. They deserve the accolades they've been receiving in full.

That all aside, I thought I'd mention one other thing that's been on my mind. Brasilians love Antonio Carlos Jobim.

It is February, and I suppose I've finally gotten back into the swing of things here in California (as have my innards). I'm thinking one more post on my alt-hemispherical vacation ought to take care of things nicely. There's just more I want to say...namely, that Brasilians love Antonio Carlos Jobim.


And I mean, who wouldn't? But they really love him. They give him a bear hug everytime he comes over, (even though they see him all the time), and then they hold on a little too long and let their hands wander a little too far and it's sort of uncomfortable for all involved. Prove it, you say?

First piece of evidence: They named their international airport after him! The audacity!

El Segundo!
They named a street after him in Rio. This doesn't seem like much, right? The street is called Presidente Antonio Carlos. Amazing! This type of subtle "art-meets-politics" social commentary stuff doesn't get past the bumper sticker phase stateside. Kinda makes you jealous there's no "Senators Bacharach and David St." in Kansas City.

And as if that weren't enough...here's the most fiendish display of their affection: They opted to shorten him name significantly, arbitrarily cutting 5 syllables from it to call him "Tom". This mod makes it all the easier for people to name their children after him, chant his name at a soccer match, or pretend they overheard his name on a crowded street. Friends, this is a truly subversive act of devotion. Like spiking the water with smooth jazz and inflecting it with Latin flavor.

Don't say you hadn't heard. They love him. And you should too.

Alone again (naturally),

Rob

Epic Sesh!

Dear Global Martketplace,

This weekend The Chop was at it again recording ever-so-timeless drum and bass tracks for our upcoming (first, full-length) album, which we've decided to call "We Want It All". We all agree that this sentiment aptly describes our lusty ambition for, well, everything.

On Saturday, we went into the studio for the old 8PM to 4AM graveyard shift. We layed down the bass and drum tracks for four songs...two old ones we re-arranged and made way better (these were called "Falling Asleep" and "Five Points") and two brand new songs called "Signs" and "The Pace'. We're pretty excited about all of them, and we're going back in there to do the overdubs (i.e. piano, guitars and all the vocals) on Tuesday night. We probably won't 100% finish any the songs, and we'll end up finishing the tracks at home sometime in the next couple weeks, putting in some instruments we either don't play or own or both (cello maybe?), refining our takes, and also adding weird shit like we do.

Here's how it looked on Saturday:












Now here's the exciting news...this was the stated "last" tracking session for "We Want It All". We've now recorded 15 tracks for this thing, so we'll be able to cut 3 or 4 or 5 out of the final product--which means better songs for you!

We're expecting it all to be done (like done done) in about 6 weeks. We're excited about this. You should be excited about this. Are you getting excited about all this?

rob

Beardist Thought is Alive and Well

America,

There's something troubling me. As a free and extremely diverse society, we face many challenges regarding tolerance and understanding of differences. No matter how enlightened you see yourself, you are instinctually driven to make judgements about other people based on their looks alone. I'm referring, of course, to Beardism.

Many of us (Freedom Fighters) have long purported that these stereotypes are being bolstered and supported by the entertainment media. The evidence is overwhelming. One can't help but notice that there's a strong and forceful campaign (of late) to portray facial hair as a the equivalent to a fringe lifestyle akin to junk addiction and eventual depressive suicide.

When the producers of ABC's LOST wanted to convey the idea that (normally ethically impeccable) Jack Shepard was sinking in the bog of an alcoholic stupor...did they brainstorm for hours on the proper story arc of his drug-addled descent? Do you think they factored in the timing of their revelations throughout the episode to maximize his character development as a hopeless wino? Did the director coach actor Matthew Fox endlessly on the Jack-curate facial expressions that would convey a sense of longing, loss, and seething anger from beneath an ocean of booze? No. They slapped a big beard on him and figured we'd get the gist.



ABC Audience: "Whoa. Check out that grizzly beard...this cat must be hitting it pretty hard to forget to shave that long."

Or,

"Holy shit, he's totally lost all will to live and has probably been doing some "Leaving Las Vegas"-style boozing to the death while eating Vicoden like they were Pez and oh what the hell let's throw some depraved hookers into this fanciful orgy of self-loathing while we're at it"

All as indicated by a relatively trim beard!

One of my other favorites is the all too blatant "shaving as redemption" plot point. Once they've carefully established a character as bat-shit insane on a liquor binge (see above) there's usually a scene where this character is confronted openly about how batshit insane they've become, and are instructed to "pull it together!" The character then responds by shaving his face, which indicates to the audience not only that he's kicked his alcohol/drug/gambling addiction, but that he's managed to slough off the inner turmoil/regret/longing that's been plaguing him (a nightmarish, spectral remorse which haunts his days and prohibits shaving) like the superficial weight that it is.

The writers/producers of NBC's Heroes pulled this one on us in the first half of the show's second season. In case you missed it, here's a picture:

Nathan Petrelli, a normally clean cut politician wallowing in regret and sorrow over his brother's untimely death...and sweating alcohol from the exertion of turning his head slightly...



who thens "cleans up his act," and shaves away his depression! A True Leader!



Beardist nonsense!
For shame, Media Conglomerates!

Beards are nothing to be feared! The Bearded live and work among you! Please don't stare at us on the bus! We are simply asserting our right to be lazy when it comes to one small aspect of personal hygiene. I am not drunk, crazed, or addicted to precription drugs. I have a job, a girlfriend and a family!

Stroking my chin,
Red Robbie

Post Script: Abraham Lincoln has a great, bolshy beard. So did U.S. Grant. Leaders among men and trendsetters of their respective eras, one marvels at what a beard heyday that must have been.