_ Yael Meyer plays pretty music. Meyer would likely not object to that, general, designation. She says it is a mix of folk, pop and electronic.

“It is hopefully music that will make you feel happy, peaceful and content.” she says.

Her latest record, Everything Will Be Alright, comes out November 15 on her own imprint, Kli Records.

Meyer was born in Santiago, Chile and was enrolled in a classical music conservatory at age five. She studied piano and later the guitar. At 18 she won a scholarship to attend Berklee College of Music in Boston. She took a degree in three and a half years.  She produced her debut, Common Ground, during that time.

The school has produced numerous performers of all varieties. How does a formal music education help a pop singer/songwriter?

“I would say that in my own experience I learned most not from what I got out of the classrooms, which in itself was absolutely much more than I could have ever imagined, but rather what I was able to experience by having the opportunity to befriend and play with so many talented musicians from around the world,” says Meyer. “Being able as well to devote such a solid amount of time, a few years that is full time, solely to exploring music in various shapes, ways and forms is a rare privilege that I was able to enjoy, and it was possible for me to take in this experience unhindered and uninterrupted, completely open and ready to learn as much I could from every opportunity that I encountered.”

Following her time at Berklee Meyer says she had to take time to let what she learned sink in; she also says she needed to forget what she had learned to be able to make pop music again. There is a downside to such an education and choosing such a profession. She questioned her choice of being a musician frequently.

“I spent many years at war with myself trying to figure out whether this is what I was supposed to be doing or not. Still today there are days when I say to myself ‘oh my goodness, why can't I be more normal, why couldn't I just be ok with a normal life, a 9-5 regular job and staying in one place?’ But the truth is that I don't think this is a profession you can actually choose, I think it is more a profession that you are kind of handed over,” says Meyer. “I rarely think of it in terms of ‘why did I choose this’ anymore. I have accepted that this is my path in this life, my journey and my job and I am happy and grateful to have the opportunity to what I love for a living. I won't lie to you and tell you that it is not challenging at times, or that at times I wish I could have ‘chosen’ something more normal, but I know that it is who I am and that this is what I am supposed to be doing, and I don't let myself take it any further than that.”
 

_ Meyer’s music has been featured in numerous television shows and films. When it comes to writing for film and television Meyer says she has both ‘written songs to order’ for a specific film and written songs that just happened to be used in a film.

“Out of both situations I prefer the latter one, the main reason being that if I have to write FOR a film I am writing not for myself, but to please a whole lot of people, the director, the audience, the crew, the cast, the editor, etc. There are too many eyes, too many ears and in my personal experience it disrupts the honesty of writing, or at least it does for me,” she says. “When I write, I like to be in a place of solitude, where there are no judges, and I can write in full honesty, totally naked, completely open and revealing. Whether someone will ever get to hear that song is another matter, but I don't really want to be thinking of a scene, or a director's opinion when I am writing a song.”

Meyer says she would rather write a song because the song “needs” to be written and she can be its channel into the world rather than having to write something to please other people. She would rather write what moves her than for a check. She isn’t against writing specifically for a project, however.

“Not that I have anything against that method at all, for some people it works and they are amazing at it, but it is just not the way that I like to do it, or the one that makes me the happiest.” she says.

_ Her latest record began as an EP, a group of song she wrote while taking a break from the music industry. She wasn’t sure if she was coming back either.
 
“So the songs were very honest, and open like I was saying before and I wasn't writing to please anyone in particular when writing them. I was just writing songs that I really wanted to write.” says Meyer.

But then she realized, like it or not, music was a big part of her and her life. She knew she was going to be going to bed at 5 a.m. with songs in her head.

“I also had a baby and realized that either way I was going to have to make a living doing something, and that if that something was going take me away from my beautiful baby, I needed to make sure the time I was putting into work, was time well spent. So I embraced music as my career, my path, and my job and never questioned it again,” she says. “I started looking for a producer to help me record these new songs, but couldn't find anyone that felt right, so I began recording my songs at home by myself while looking for someone to mix them. Then through a friend and fellow artist Laura Jansen, I met Bill Lefler, who I initially reached out to, to see if he could mix some of what I had been working on, but to my own astonishment during our conversation the words ‘I am looking for a producer’ came out of my mouth.”

Meyer sent Lefler the demos and he liked them and the two decided to work together. It turned out to be smooth sailing, according to Meyer, after that.

“I have done this too many times before and I knew that I would know in the first 10 seconds in the studio with him, whether this was going to be great, or whether this was going to be really bad, because for me with music and my work there are no in betweens,” she says. “We clicked and it was easy and it flowed, and I knew that I wanted this to be an LP, but that it would have to wait.”

As an independent artist, with her own label, she has considerations artists who work with large companies do not have (but also freedoms they might not have).

“I own my own label and we finance everything ourselves so I knew that to make it happen I would basically have to spend the next year or so working the EP the most I could, planting seeds and cementing the foundation that we needed to get this going to a certain point, so that we could get back in to the studio and finish the album,” says Meyer. “That was, thank G'd, a great year, at the end of which we regrouped in the studio to finish what we had started. During this year I was also continuously writing material for what in my mind would be the completion of the EP. Fire was the last song I wrote for the record, only a few weeks before we went into the studio.”

_ Meyer and Lefler’s collaboration was one where each had their own distinct opinions but also one of respect. With good communication and chemistry they, as Meyer puts it, “nurtured” each song.

“He gets me and gets who I am and what I am about and I feel safe when working with him because I know that there are no egos involved. We both want the same thing,” says Meyer. “We both want to make the best work we can make, be honest and make the songs the best songs they can be. It's not about him as a producer, or me as an artist, it's about the music that we are making together and doing the best work that we can.”

When working on a song, Meyer’s focus changes. Sometimes she relies on her engineer. Other times she wants a very specific sound. It all depends on the song and who she happens to be working with.
 
“Craig Frank our engineer is truly incredible to work with. He is amazingly patient, nurturing and kind and puts an incredible amount of attention into every detail, to the millimeter of a mic placement. He also gets it really quickly. He understands what we have in mind in a second,” says Meyer. “We just have really great communication, and he is just so talented, that I don't feel the need to be so picky, because his own pickiness puts me at ease. However I do have very specific ideas sometimes of what I want for a particular song, a particular sound, a particular filter, or how I want one instrument to be processed and if that is the case I will make it known, but again, Craig and Bill both get it so fast that I don't really need to push it too hard because we all know what we are trying to accomplish and are working together towards a collective idea.”

_ Meyer currently lives in Los Angeles. Tour plans for the USA, Europe and South America to support the new record are in the works. But don’t expect her back East this winter.

“I lived in Boston for four years. I know how cruel the east coast winters can be. We toured the east coast last spring and when we were at the airport someone said; ‘Why are you taking those huge jackets? It's March!’  And I said ‘Yes, it is March, but it's Boston!’ It was 29ºF when we landed. So, east coast definitely, yes!  Once things start heating back up we'll be ready to rock out the east coast for the summer!”

The Postelles finished a headlining tour earlier this summer. They play an old school variety of rock n roll that calls to mind New York City, which isn’t accidental.

“Well for one thing, we are all truly born and raised in New York - all delivered in NYC hospitals so we are about as authentic as you can get. I guess we've always been especially drawn to music, and art in general, that originates in our hometown. It always seems to have more power when the music you're listening to is about the streets you walk every day.” says bassist John Speyer.

The band is out on a new tour, this time opening for The Wombats. How is that different for them than their headlining gigs?

“I think when we open we make a conscious decision to play a set designed to make an impact as quickly as possible. You have less time to build up a set,” he says. “We probably shy away from some of our slower material and maybe throw in an extra cover or two in the mix.” 

When it comes to songwriting, singer/guitarist Daniel Balk comes to the other guys with an idea; a verse, a chorus, a riff. Then they sort it out together.

“Daniel handles the lyrical side of the band, but I know our first album is very personal to all of us,” says Speyer. “It's basically about the first twenty years of our lives and growing up in New York, failing in and out of love, etc.”

As to being called a “New York City band” Speyer has no issue with the label.

“It's a high compliment to call us an NYC band so I'll definitely take that. I like to think of us as a pure rock and roll band.” he says. 

The band is already working on their second album.

“We’ve got about 12 new songs recorded already. Not a day goes by when we don't try something new in soundcheck. We are very much in the songwriting process right now.” says Speyer.

2012 is going to be a big year for The Postelles.

Tour
November 10, Wonder Ballroom, Portland OR w The Wombats
November 11, Venue, Vancouver, Canada w The Wombats
November 12 Crocodile Café, Seattle, WA w The Wombats
November 15 The Trocadero, Philadelphia, PA w The Kooks
November 16 & 17  Webster Hall, NYC w The Kooks (sold out)
November 19 House of Blues, Boston MA w The Kooks
November 20 930 Club, Washington DC w The Kooks
November 22  Metropolis, Montreal, PQ
November 23  Sound Academy, Toronto, ON w The Kooks
November 25 Newport Music Hall, Columbus OH w The Kooks
November 26 The Vic Theater, Chicago IL w The Kooks
November 27 Wolf Den-Mohegan Sun, Uncasville, CT
December 6  Bootleg Theater, Los Angeles CA

Sammy Lewis, front man of Being There, a London-based lo-fi rock act, was kind enough to answer some questions about the band ages ago. But they got lost, which had nothing to do with drunkenness (or at least very little to do). The band is on Young And Lost Club Records, also home to Noah and The Whale, among others.

When given the opportunity to decry the label some folks have hung on the band, namely “lo-fi” he is philosophical.

“I guess for a lot of people 'lo-fi' now means a philosophy or an approach, more than an actual sound, so if people have said that about our songs then I can understand that. I like lo-fi, so I'll go with that - lo-fi indie rock.” he says.

This question, incidentally, was posed as “if you had a gun to your head and had to choose a genre?” Fortunately this is rarely the case, excepting in some parts of Detroit. Perhaps if your booking agent accidentally sets up a show in Jackson, Mississippi.

The band apparently uses different instruments to fit the mood of their tracks. One of those tracks had an old school synth sound but that is, apparently, not all the band is about.

“Well The Radio is actually the only track on the album that has those kind of synths. I knew I wanted something a bit different for this track, as it seemed straighter and poppier than other songs we recorded. We recorded our album with Richard Formby at his studio in Leeds, and he has a bunch of old organs and keyboards there, old Farfisas and the like (one of which you can hear on the Herman Dune track Recording Farfisa),” says Lewis. “We tried a bunch of those, and piano, but ultimately I ended up trying at the last minute this little Yamaha keyboard that Louis from Spectrals had left behind from his last session with Richard. And it worked so we stuck with it. So Louis, if you're reading this, thanks buddy.”

What is it he thinks makes the band stand out? What is it he feels that makes them different from all the other young guys hopping into the path of the train that is the music business?

“I think that there are very few British guitar bands these days that deal with real life. Bands like Electrelane and Sleeping States were so good about discussing real lives and feelings. Growing up, going to work, walking around the city. But I think we've kind of lost that in this country. Which seems so strange to me, especially at a time when more young people than ever are going through difficult times, people I know leaving uni with no work, trying to move out of their parents place but not being able to afford it,” he says. “In America, on the other hand, you have bands like Kurt Vile, Ducktails, Woods, Nodzzz, Times New Viking (the list goes on) that just seem like regular people making great music about real life. Not that every band should try to be 100% 'real', that would be boring; but I think it's so important to be true to yourself. I think we're at least trying to do that, and it's a shame that there are so few bands in this country that feel like they can do that and be accepted by the industry.”

Good answer!

There isn’t a single way the band go about creating a song. But there is a starting point.

“Hmm it really varies so much. But generally it starts with me messing around on my guitar and coming up with a riff or a chord sequence that I like. Then I'll work on that until I've got the structure of the song more or less finished. And then I just wait and hope that lyrics will pop into my head, which they usually do when I'm walking around town.” says Lewis.

-by Patrick Ogle

The band played a tour in the UK with Noah and the Whale and has a launch for their new single in November.

“Then after Xmas we'll release another single and then the album after that, which is called Breaking Away. Hopefully we'll get the chance to play more cool shows around then.” says Lewis. “I'm really excited about the new songs we've been working on since finishing the recording of Breaking Away; we're playing some of them live now, so check them out in person.”

Teeth, out of the UK, play a sort of lo-fi electronic punkesque sort of music. The band If that isn’t vague enough for you their music is made up of various sounds. The trio consist of Ximon Tayki, Veronica So and Simon Whybray.

Teeth is also a hopeful example to all you kids out there in the garage making noises.

“Hey, you know we started out as a bunch of friends in a basement - we never thought this would happen. Even the idea of our ideas being pressed into plastic and frozen in time is so dope to us.” says Tayki  (aka Simon Leahy).

When the uncomfortable question of genre, style of music comes up (after all, few Americans to this point have heard them) Tayki has an interesting tale.

“OKAY. We'll the funny thing is, is that we get compared to Crystal Castles A LOT. And weirdly enough I was just walking through Dalston (East London) tonight and I bumped in to Ethan and Alice. We spoke briefly about shit - we met them a few times now - and I mentioned that we get compared to them a lot - and of course Ethan said that we should stop copying them, “ says Tayki. “But seriously it’s NOT like that. I like CC. I think it’s the most awesome thing that a band like them is that successful. But honestly we never EVER have used them as a point of reference when writing our music. I know that both bands enjoy and have bonded (Like us) over Erase Errata so perhaps we come from a similar place. CC is comrades, but it’s annoying how music jornos are so free with comparisons, but I feel that if you actually listen to us, you will hear a very different sound and ideas going on.”

Many times it seems that people catch on some aspect of a band’s music, something buried in it, a shared reference with another band and then say; they sound like “so and so.” It isn’t wrong or dishonest. But you have to listen pretty hard to hear Crystal Castles in Teeth. It isn’t completely off the wall either. It may be that the bands share some underlying “vibe” (to get all mystical).

If Tayki himself, could put together a dream show of acts living or dead he hesitates.

“Errr, that’s super hard. I grew up with Acid House and Nirvana. So of course, Kurt and a bunch of X... but apart from that I super love Billy Holiday, the track strange fruit really changed my life. And of course 'the late and always great John Peel' who is with us always.” he says.

(I didn’t tell him my mom saw Billy Holiday perform the song).

How does a band that wants to put together a ghostly bill with Kurt Cobain and Billy Holiday make their own music? Do they follow a single process or does that process change from song to song?

“Changes we are still defining the process. We want to get to a space where we can really - I believe an artist may call this there 'practice’.” says Tayki.

Asked another stupid question about what three bands he would ban from making music (meant to be tongue in cheek but he took it to heart).

“Argh, it’s hard, I don’t think I would ever ban anyone. I don’t think that it’s productive, but at a push probes Hitler,” says Tayki. “God I sound super Anti-Fa right now, but it’s because of all the shit that is happening in London and the rest of the UK.”

Fuck Fascism. It is perfectly ok to be super Anti-Fa. Get out there and throw a brick.

Teeth are also tricksters, one of their recent tricks was to hack Lady Gaga’s Twitter account—despite having no real animus toward the singer. They did get a reaction though, a good deal of it idiotic.

“Really, all we got was a lot of racist comments and a few death threats... sometimes we think the notion of pop stars calling out fascistic behavior may not always be completely understood by their fans... although no hate to Gaga, we totally appreciate the efforts of anyone who stands up against racist and Nazi ideologies.” he says.

Teeth have plans—and since it took so long to get this done they may, indeed, no longer actually BE plans but things that has happened (linear time is SUCH a pain in the ass).

“We have a long UK tour, which is dope - cause the island is sooo small... Also we are playing a few euro shows, including Brussels - that has the cheapest beer in the world (street beer at least 50cent of super can) and USA!!!! That we love dearly - just don’t vote for Rick Perry,” he says.

No, we are not voting for Rick Perry. Apparently people want a pizza mogul now (until they realize who funds him). Next week a clown who juggles chainsaws will be the front runner.

Find out more about the eminently interesting Teeth at t3eth.com.

by Patrick Ogle

The Gift is from Portugal and their latest record, Explode, was released in North America in September. They play music you could, broadly, call alternative rock but that is such a catch-all these days it is embarrassing to use the term—especially for a band as interesting and musically diverse as The Gift. Their music ranges, sometimes in the same song, from low-key pop to the epic, to a grandiose mélange that calls to mind a wide swath of music--both sonically and in time--from Sonic Youth to Queen. A further, and exhaustive, list of analogs would be, to put it mildly, unwieldy.

John Gonçalves, bassist and keyboard player for the band took some time to talk about the music, the tour and even a bit about the music scene and business in Portugal.

“The Music business in Portugal has two different faces. The most important one is the artistic one. In that case I say many times that we are the best kept secret of Europe (even if we don’t want to) because there are a lot of talent a lot of diversity in terms of styles, we sing in Portuguese or in English and there are a lot of new musicians doing very creative things,” says Gonçalves, “The other side of the same coin is a industry in crisis like the country. No one sells many albums; we don’t have so many venues besides Lisboa and Porto - although there are a lot of great theatres programming new tendencies of music everywhere - although we have a great festival scene during summer.”

Gonçalves says the people are very alternative, aware and interested in what is musically happening around the world.

“It is a very interested and enthusiastic crowd.” he says.

The Gift formed in 1994 when the band were still teenagers and have remained together since—although they are not afraid to bring in “outsiders.”

“We are together since teenagers and the benefits of continuity are the common goals we can achieve with that continuity, the albums we can do, the tours that we love to do and the fact that we still get along very well,” he says. “We are very open to all different styles, we work with a lot of musicians on stage - not only the 4 members of the band - and we change from having horn sections in one tour, strings sections on other or more guitars and keyboards now.”

If you see them once, you haven’t seen it all in other words. It is a refreshing attitude because many bands may trot out new songs but often their live shows stay the same musically.

But how would he describe the music, to the many potential fans in the USA?

“Some people say its epic, some people say its elegant, some people say its creative, some people say it’s very melodic but in the end it’s always a matter of listening and feel something when you listen it. I like to think of our group now in a very mature phase with strong songs with a great connection between the analogue keyboards, the power of some guitars and the extraordinary voice and stage performance of Sonia. If you own a music store and want to put the album in a category I believe alternative/indie rock/electronic would be ok.”

This tour is, obviously, to support Explode, and buying a copy should be first on everyone’s musical to-do list. Second on that list should be getting out to see this band live.

“We want to shout out loud to everyone possible that we have an amazing album and we are so excited to present it Live to new audiences. The adrenaline to have a small venue pack with new fans that are arriving to our music now - compared with European fans that know us for several years - is the best thing that can happen to a band like ours. We love tour and we love the stage.” he says.

They have been touring all over the world, Europe, South America and now North America. But this band is also the boss. They are their own label. Gonçalves says that even though their priority is Explode and the Explode tour but he doesn’t rule out doing some recording in the two weeks they have off in November.

-by Patrick Ogle

Tour
10/07 – Los Angeles, CA – Echoplex (FILTER Culture Collide, w/  YACHT,
Hands, The Morning After Girls, The Asteroids Galaxy Tour)
10/11 – Chicago, IL – Double Door
10/12 – Toronto, ON – Lee’s Palace
10/14 – New York, NY – Le Poisson Rouge
10/15 – Philadelphia, PA - Milkboy
10/16 – Cambridge, MA – TT The Bear’s

There are also dates in Portugal before and after this short USA jaunt. Get them here...(I couldnt copy them for some reason!)

Street Eaters are a boy-girl, Berkeley-based punk outfit mixing passionate performance with political fire. The two-piece’s modus operandi comes from the legendary 924 Gilman Street music venue, whose Californian pop punk and hardcore scene was considered home by drummer Megan March and bassist John Mink. Or is it John Geek? 

“It’s ‘No’ right now,” says John. “I’ve narrowed it down to one word names now. Before, I went by things like Johnny NotJodieFoster Foster and Tom Araya FromSlayer. My name is much simpler these days. I’ve narrowed it down to keep it more focused and concise—even though it changes every six months.”

“You are such a moody guy,” teases March.

“I like the idea of constantly reinventing yourself,” he says.

Moodiness and spontaneity are what Street Eaters are all about: message-laden, politically charged melodic punk. The band is not afraid to share their beliefs.

“We draw inspiration from political and personal,” says No. “We’re avid readers and observers of things that happen on micro and macro scales. We care about what’s happening in the world, we take interest in the treatment of women and minorities. Taking a global view is part of being conscious. Our songs aren’t political in terms of advocating a specific bill, but we’ve been surrounded by war—”

“Oil spills,” March adds, “you see how the world is impacted, and it’s hard not to let it infiltrate your mind and compare the world around you.”

“We’re interested in framing,” he says. “Exploring a subject set in context of the modern world. Framing is paramount to interpretation.”

“Yeah,” she says. “For example, we have a song about women’s rights. I felt compelled to write it, to express myself through art and say what I have to say. People have told me the song was important; it was good to hear someone talking about it.”

“To be straightforward,” says No, “we’re living in the US in the 21st century, and the country is wealthy but home to profound injustices. It’s a deteriorating empire, and people need to write about the hard stuff.”

“There’s already enough escapist art,” says March.

“How many people in this country can’t afford health care, including me,” he says. “We write about sexuality—“

“Women in the workforce—”

“Toxic fumes. We could go on forever, you get the point.”

The group has pressed its message into their first full-length album, Rusty Eyes and Hydrocarbons, released July 12th on Bakery Outlet and Plan-It-X Records. No says listeners can look forward to “neat sonic textures, experience, great songs and melodies, awesome drum and bass tones.”

“But I don’t mean techno,” No jokes.

“It’s more grunge,” says March.

“It communicates what we do as a band,” he says.

Compared to their energetic live persona, Street Eaters’ recording method is quite meticulous.

“The irony of a studio recording is that bands want to go in and bang it out,” says No, “but we spend more time recording to bring out things to make our sound.”

“We record different batches of songs at different times,” March says. “We’ll record five songs in three hours; we don’t take much time to actually record, but we leave time between recordings.”

“For this album,” he says, “we listened to the songs to make sure they’re up to our stature, then picked the best recordings. We like to record songs when we’ve got them tight, but they’re still new. Then we put it all together, and make sure it makes sense as a cohesive whole.”

Even with the band’s precision in the studio, they acknowledge the road as their true calling.

“Live is better,” says March. “Making music in a studio is so final—playing live you have to make those quick decisions. It’s just a different way of making art. When you put out records, you get the artwork and the lyrics, and it’s a neat way of archiving things. Our struggle is to convey our live performance through vinyl.”

“Our sound is big and powerful,” says No. “That sense of community and catharsis comes across, especially on the new record.”

Street Eaters have been touring the country throughout June and July to support the album and deliver their message.

“Playing live is the fun part,” says March. “We’re community-oriented, so we go to towns where we know people so we can see friends. And we’ll go to new towns to meet new people.”

“We’re about serious, cathartic music and community,” says No. “The community aspect is when we play in smaller places, we like to talk to the audience and pass out lyric sheets before a performance. That’s really something bands don’t do anymore. We want people to understand what we’re talking about. It’s also about leaving a piece of the band behind.”

“It’s neat to play live because you get to let go and let your songs take life,” she says.

“You let the songs breathe,” he says. “We were brought up in the DIY touring culture, so we understand how important a big, good tour can be. Differentiating between making music from playing live is not in our genes.”

Street Eaters have toured with the likes of forgetters and Shellshag; March calls the latter tour a “double date.” No says their current June-July tour is the longest they’ve done consecutively.

“We’ll actually need a house-sitter this time,” jokes March.

In a typical Street Eaters show, audiences are treated to a more intimate experience than one would expect from a punk band.

 “We usually talk in between songs, to explain what they’re about,” says March. “Sometimes we play without stopping. It’s very intense and cathartic; the songs are about issues we care about. I have to play the drums while I sing, so performing for me uses the whole body.”

“We lose ourselves in the music once we reach a point where we can let loose and come alive,” says No.

“It also depends on the audience,” she says, “their energy and what they’re giving us.”

“What we’re saying in our songs is serious,” he says, “but even with the heavy subject matter the audience experiences this euphoria. Our melody is counterbalanced by the lyrics and high energy. It’s a way we express ourselves.”

Being able to wholly express messages may seem like a challenge for a band with only two members, but Street Eaters have overcome such suspicion.

“People will assume that a two-piece sounds less sonically full,” says No, “but we manage to quash that problem with multiple amps, interesting drums, our vocal harmonies.”

No and March have both experienced touring with larger bands, and they say that being a two-piece comes with its perks. Scheduling and transportation are much easier, and the group dynamic is simpler.

“With just two, decisions are made quicker,” says March, laughing. “With other bands there’s always a consensus. But that constant struggle can be exciting, to have personalities clash.”

“That we need to make minimal compromises is a huge plus,” adds No. “We sound how we wanted to from the beginning.”

But for two people so dedicated to the DIY lifestyle—which includes doing their own silk-screening and creating their own posters—being a duo has its annoyances.

“We only get two guest list spots,” says No.

“Merch production is a hassle,” adds March. “Since there’s only two of us and we do everything ourselves. Friends help out, but also there’s just the two of us to make sure everything gets done.”

“But the art is uncompromised,” he says. “It’s not watered down by five different views. March handles the artwork, I handle the outlook. We like these roles, but that means there’s less division of labor. But I’ve been in bands where only two people did most of the work anyway.”

Street Eathers’ strict DIY ethos stems from growing up at the Gilman, an East Bay music venue. Gilman is sacred to March and No, who volunteered there as kids. This notion made clear when No asks if Mapanare runs any corporate ads, least the venue’s integrity becomes compromised. No and March speak of Gilman as their punk rock Eden.

“Gilman Street is 25-years-old,” says No. “It’s an all-ages, volunteer-run collective space. It follows a Marxist philosophy, and no one gets paid.”

“It’s to provide a safe space,” says March. “It’s a punk club that doesn’t allow homophobia, sexism, or racism. The volunteers have meetings. It’s an amazing place, a place where people get into punk.”

March and No constantly express their gratitude to Gilman, whose shows converted them to life-long punk devotees. No was enamored with hardcore and noise rock acts, like Scratch Acid and Butthole Surfers.

“I was too young to go to big shows, so I went to Gilman to watch,” says No. “One of my favorite shows was Tilt at Gilman, and I was stoked at seeing Karp. My mind was blown.”

March’s Gilman experience, on the other hand, was more personal. She says that she would follow her older sister to the venue, where she was inspired by a new wave of West Coast women punk rockers, with female-fronted groups like The Need and Bikini Kill.

“Those local lady bands were a powerful influence on a young teen,” says March. “And groups from all over the place would come through.”

“Not many girls at the age of ten saw 7 Year Bitch,” says No.

“It was a strange, unique experience for me,” she says. “The 90s for me were probably different from most.”

The one aspect of 90s punk that resonated most with Street Eaters was the close interaction between bands and their audience. March and No disdain the modern separation, and try to return the personal element to performance.

“Our song Heavy into Nothing,” explains March, “is about how, with the internet, we’re staring at screens, and people impart information through a tube, and how audiences are told how they should think. You lose the communication. With our art and personal experiences, we take that and put it in our shows. No communication between the audience and the band is a loss, and so we use our lyric sheets to open a dialogue.”

“They’re more immediate,” says No.

“They’re a way of taking something with you,” she says. “I still have lyric sheets from 90s shows that I saw. There’s also artwork on the lyrics sheets. I would say that they bring back communication between an audience and the band.”

“They were immediate and tight-knit,” he says. “Their community wasn’t spread out and global with the internet. And because music is instantaneous and so democratized today, it could be alienating.”

No and March are no Luddites, however. They acknowledge how the internet has made their strict DIY ethos possible in the 21st century.

“The internet can be used for positive communication,” says No. “It just depends on how you use it.”

“DIY tours can be alienating because you leave your home,” says March. “But you go out and talk to people; that’s community, that’s the DIY attitude. And computers have been good.”

“Facebook is a lot easier to work with than a payphone,” he says.

“Before if they booked a show, we had to mail in a demo,” she says, “and maybe they’d call you and then your parents would answer the phone. It is so much easier now.”

No laughs at this and mentions a “club owner in North Dakota calling a 16-year-old girl.” March then tells the story of her first tour, when she was 18 years old. At the time she was volunteering at the Gilman.

“My first tour was a disaster,” says March. “The whole thing was booked by payphone. It was exciting and an adventure, but it’s better now since communication is easier. It was cool to show up in a town and play with any group, regardless of their genre. It was cool because we got to meet different people, but now they just go to your Facebook page and categorize you.”

While Street Eaters may be easy to categorize, their spirited manner, political edge and DIY dedication brings back the bite that made punk in the 90s fun but meaningful.

Perry Bax’s The Best Radio You Have Never Heard podcast sounds like a hefty promise and a major contradiction. How can a podcast be compared with radio, and is this really the best radio you’ve never heard? The latter question depends on your musical tastes, but rest assured Bax has brought one type of radio to the internet. The kind of radio Bax espouses, freeform radio, is almost gone from the airwaves today, but this lifelong music fan is using a modern medium to return to this classic format.

The heyday of freeform radio was during the counterculture movement of the 1960s and 1970s. The term refers to radio stations whose programming is solely controlled by the DJ. Bax, as DJ, producer, mixer, and arranger, is operating true to the classic freeform aesthetic.

“Being a podcaster has that DJ-aspect, but combined with the producing role—which is crucial,” says Bax. “For my show, it appeals to people and they dig it because of the production—it is the crux of what my shows are about. If you just look at it on paper, the show is me playing songs on the internet. But the finished show is more important than any one song. The stuff I play is not standard fare; I often play stuff like alternate tracks and covers. The key is to find a way to make all that work, to make sure there’s fluidity.”

Looking at a typical Bax playlist, accomplishing such fluidity, is astonishing. The latest episode, Bookend Goodbyes, takes listeners through 40 years of musical history. It opens with a song from Lovely Goodbye’s upcoming debut album. Later we hear a live duet of  Head Like A Hole by Trent Reznor and goth godfather Peter Murphy. After the entirety of the epic title track from Yes’s latest album, Fly from Here, the episode closes with a live performance of 4th of July by Bruce Springsteen & The E-Street Band. Filling the gaps are prog rock instrumentals, David Essex’s Rock On as covered by Garland Jeffreys, live renditions from Carole King and Harry Manx, and more surprises.

“I compare my program to 70s freeform FM in vibe, not material,” says Bax. “I have Death Cab for Cutie and Jeff Beck on one podcast. I can have genres and eras mesh together and still sound fine, because it’s all about the mixing and the context. There are supposed to be rules to making mixtapes, so says John Cusack in High Fidelity. But artists today are not flipping the finger to say ‘fuck you’ enough. So I say a small band from Chicago can get played next to Beck and Death Cab—there are no rules.”

Bax’s disdain for rules does not mean his show is pirate radio. Unlike some his competitors, Bax is licensed by SESAC, BMI, and ASCAP, meaning his playlists are legal. And while there are no rules to what Bax plays, he still creates his meticulously crafted playlists with a sense of balance.

“For each episode I have to mix music with comfortable material for the listener as well as new stuff, including songs you’ve never heard before and artists you’ve never heard before,” says Bax. “I’m not always forthcoming with what I’m playing. I’ll mix in artists you know, but play different songs by them, and I’ll play songs you know, but different versions.”

He also structures his episodes off one key message or idea. An example would be the recent Heat’s On episode, whose tracklist suggests the dangers of global warming.

“Does everyone get what I’m doing? Not necessarily.” says Bax. “Sometimes I’m not good at playing that end out. But subconsciously the listeners pick it up; the playlist is only one-dimensional compared to the show. When you hear it, you are just drawn in. Why is Richard Dreyfus stacking a mountain of mashed potatoes [in Close Encounters of the Third Kind]. He doesn’t know why, he just knows he has to meet up with that spaceship. Likewise, I am cryptic.”

Since the Chicago-based podcast started in 2004, Best Radio boasts 150 80-minute-long episodes with only 15 songs repeated. Bax says that this is his program’s major advantage over modern radio.

“The thing with traditional radio that people hate is fatigue; they’re tired of hearing the same track played over and over again,” says Bax. “Often people download our entire back-catalog. They can listen back and not hear the same song. That says something to the show’s longevity. But it’s not like, ‘well I played this in ’06 so I can’t play it again.’ It’s just that I haven’t had to.”

Bax landed his hosting job during the early, Wild West days of podcasting. He credits his fortune to very internet-worthy practice of networking.

“I had just wrapped up a director gig at db Sound in Chicago,” says Bax, “Working with groups like The Rolling Stones, The Allman Brothers Band, Metallica, Riverdance, and even a Barney the Dinosaur tour. I sat down for lunch with a guy I knew who came in with a plan. He said, ‘podcasting—that is you. This is what you need to do.’

“In 2004, podcasting was just getting off the ground,” he continues. “It was making strides, but it was still scary to some. The idea of subscriptions, and the commitment—it’s ubiquitous now, but they were adamant about it then. So I said to them, ‘who would listen to my shit?’ Months later they asked when the shirts were coming out, and my clever, belated punch-line was ‘who would buy my shirts?’”

Even in the beginning, Bax largely controlled the program, but he soon felt the need to move beyond his boundaries.

“They weren’t in control in terms of regulating the program, but eventually they put on the brakes and said ‘use your 5 GBs,’” says Bax. “After that I started becoming my own person. I got my own URL. We were originally hosted on Yahoo, and I needed my uploading speed raised to 2.5k.”

Best Radio is branching out its online availability. Along with the program’s website, a Best Radio subscription is available on iTunes, where it was once a part of their “New and Noteworthy” items. Also, Bax networks with the fans on the program’s Facebook page.

“Obviously, [that] is a place where I can post new shows,” says Bax. “People can listen to them right on the Facebook page. I want to make the path of resistance as small as possible. On the Facebook page, people who click play maybe won’t listen to the whole show, but they’ll listen to 10 minutes worth and then download it for later.”

And the Best Radio Facebook page doesn’t just feature podcast episodes. It hosts discussions on the songs Bax picks, YouTube clips, and general music news.

“I want the program to be a real full service—it’s not just about the show, it’s about the music,” says Bax. “The page is essentially an extension of the show.”

Still looking to expand, Bax is trying to understand the podcasting game, and figure out how to translate that understanding into growth. Bax is asking the question that all internet businesses ask; where do we go from here?

“There are lots of listeners that send Facebook messages asking, ‘why don’t you do the show every day,’” says Bax. “I want to tell them, ‘then buy a T-shirt.’ If we were to create a special membership with extra content, that would change the show’s format; I would have to hold back some content. Some suggest I broadcast in better quality, but given what I have, you show me a better sounding podcast.  Making a video version has been suggested, but I’m sure the viewers would rather watch paint dry.

“The listeners have urged me to get more into social media,” he continues. “They’ve asked, ‘when are you going to have an app?’ But that’s really cache, since I don’t know what I’d do with it. What functionality of an app would make the show more finger-friendly; that’s the kind of stuff we’re thinking about all the time. We want to keep the growth and get people listening and talking about it.”

Bax’s unique production stems from his lengthy experience in mixing.

“I was a club DJ for a long time. They have to do all their sets live and there are no second chances. It was a train wreck,” says Bax. “And I was a sound mixer for decades, ever since the seventh grade. All that comes together with podcasting and you’re looking at a more advanced medium. Now, I’m mixing with my eyes as much as my ears.”

There is a visual element to Best Radio and Bax himself. For a man so encased in the music industry, Bax layers conversation with classic movies references--Best Radio’s motto, “Accept No Substitute,” is a line taken from Risky Business. Each episode has a picture or illustration that goes with it and the frequent appearance of live tracks remind the listener how seeing the real thing is irreplaceable. Bax’s preference for live tracks makes sense, given his start as a wunderkind concert producer.

“I look back to that time and think, what balls on this kid,” Bax reminisces. “When Almost Famous came out, everyone said, ‘dude, this is you!’”

Bax became enamored with music as a kid growing up in the sixties.

“I played drums for this garage band when I was young, maybe in 5th or 6th grade,” says Bax. “I walked in for practice one day, and they gave me a strange look. ‘You’ve got to hear this,’ they said to me, and they were playing Are You Experienced, which had just been released. We tried to play Purple Haze the whole afternoon. We were playing some Rolling Stones and Doors stuff before. Like so many others, I just turned a corner one day watching Ed Sullivan in 1964.”

His thirst for music insatiable, Bax fell for concerts, going above and beyond the call of duty for any fan wanting to see his favorite act live. Too young to attend, he’d negotiate with the roadies to move their equipment before and after shows in exchange for admittance.

“I was so into music, and I knew the crews would be there before the show,” says Bax. “I was a big guy, so I’d be there hours before the show to help move the equipment. The crew was always blown away by me not weaseling out at the end of the show, and they’d give me a ride home. I’d hate to be the neighbor who, at 2 AM, saw some truck pull up in the neighborhood.”

He progressed from pseudo-roadie to concert producer, putting on his own shows and booking some major acts.

“The shows I used to put on were called ‘PB Productions,’ so people still call me PB,” Bax says. “I did shows with bands I wanted. The Park District in Chicago is good for shows; it has a natural amphitheater, so organizers used to put the bands on the top of this hill. But I was intolerant, and I thought that was stupid. I did the shows differently and they were like, ‘oh, cool.’ I was 16 when I was doing all these crazy things. I borrowed pieces of staging from my school. I would just ask a janitor and he just gave it to me. I even staged a Styx show; that was bizarre! But it bought me credibility.

“I look back on those days and cringe; I was a jerk,” Bax continues. “But I was blindly following what I wanted to do.”

The backbone of Bax’s program are older songs and artists, but operating with modern methods. Bax suggests the industry modernize as well.

“The music business is crazy,” says Bax. “They are trying to retain an old model that doesn’t work in current times. They need to stop thinking of selling CDs with 14 tracks each.

“On the other hand, the movie business has gone out of its way to adapt,” he continues. “Some people make the case that music is free, that people consume it and then want more. So money can be made from selling other merchandise, like concert tickets. The music business is killing itself: the old model no longer works, and if there were no file-sharing, the business wouldn’t last, so it’s a tough call. Spotify is crazy in Europe, because nobody stays with the free product. People pay for the full service.”

Bax’s unique program has earned him an expansive audience that can be broken up into two groups.

“The majority of my audience is older and does not pay attention to new stuff, since they’re busy with their kids and work,” says Bax. “Having an influence on what they do get a chance to listen to is cool. The best thing I hear from listeners is that I get them to buy music from bands they hate. That is, these are bands they think they hate, but they hear those bands in a new context and think, ‘hm, I like that.’

“The other group listening to my show is the 16-19 year olds that are just discovering new music, but are still curious about music from the past,” he continues. “I’m in a good place to discover new artists; I play music from the past 40 years. Why paint with some colors when you can use the whole palette? The younger someone is, the more adventurous they are in their music listening. My hope is that there are still 13-year-olds today sitting around with a Stratocaster trying to learn ‘Stairway to Heaven.’ If there are, then all is right in the world.”

Bax is forever a free-formist, comfortable in his role in controlling his program and his destiny. In fact, it is Bax who ends our interview.

“Now that sounds like a perfect ending.”

Anindita Dutta is a multimedia artist from India.  Her work ranges from performance videos to sculpture and sculpture installations. Through the video sculptures Dutta began work on large sculpture pieces but since her work was in wet clay how to preserve the look and the intent of the original in the new pieces. And the mudwork is special to her.

“The mudwork, I have pushed that. I find it is totally mine. I have created a new medium.” she says.

The mud is wet and the people are covered in it and are a part of the piece. There is also a “fourth dimension” aspect to this work. Dutta says that the clay is wet throughout the shooting of the video and since wet clay becomes dry clay; actors have to perform in a short period of time.

But pieces like this are, in the real world, finite. You can shoot video and that is a second aspect of such an installation but it isn’t the same as the actual, physical piece. And, speaking practically, the clay videos are on such a large scale, a massive scale, who is going to buy a static piece like that?

The next step was making something permanent using the concept but mud cannot be permanent. So Dutta moved to making sculptures that have the feeling of soft clay. It took a year to experiment with plaster, cement and other materials. And then there was the clay.

“Then there was mixing the clays from all over the world to try to make it permanent and look wet.” says Dutta.

The two pieces on hand, one small and one over five feet. And they do, indeed, look like wet clay.

(see below for examples)

Another work by Dutta, Trapped, was on display. It was a work that Dutta had sort of abandoned but came back to because so many people commented on it and praised it. She thinks, maybe, she didn’t understand it when she first worked on it.

“Some works you do spontaneously. You don’t understand how perfect it was but at a distance? Some works just happen a good feeling—I don’t know it just happens. Some people think when it is done it is over…but..” she says.

And the “but” is that you sometimes come back to the work and reassess it. Sometimes your original opinion adapts.

“The compliments I have gotten on this are; it is unique, not influenced by surroundings.” she says.

She also talked about how she would focus and obsess over a single piece of twine and how it sat. It is something that might make an artist crazy. But such attention to detail, especially in large pieces, is easy to imagine as the difference between a great piece and a good piece.  And this piece is striking.

Dutta, whose husband is a bio-physicist at Purdue University, says she takes her Indian background and infuses other techniques into her art. She worked for 12 years in the West working on her skills.  In addition to Indiana she has lived in New York City.

But what about India? You hear and see a good deal about galleries in China but what about India? Dutta says galleries in India are booming and they are supporting artists. There is one area for improvement though; Dutta says that critiques are an issue. She says it will take time for this to improve. Art breeds art critics so it is bound to improve!

Watch the videos to see interviews with Dutta on her clay works and also on Trapped.

I first saw Lori Hyland’s art from across a crowded room, a room that was in the Art Miami tent during Art Basel week 2010. I struggle to put into words one of the particular things that attracts me to a painting. As near as I can come is to say that I am mesmerized by work that seems to dramatically change when seen close up and then from a distance (or visa versa). I am not speaking of simple distance. I know this isn’t exactly an eloquent way of describing this but I am not an art critic but just a guy who goes to museums.

But Hyland’s work is special. She is the only artist I spoke to at length during Art Basel week 2010. Hyland lives in Los Angeles and went to both Pratt and the School of Visual Arts for art and did her undergraduate at USC.

“I was going into film school at USC and had a detour by getting married. So my undergrad degree is from there. I have been painting only for four of five years.”  says Hyland.

When she first started painting she was led in her work by spirituality. She was especially influenced by travels to the Gothic cathedrals in France. But Hyland didn’t wear this influence on her sleeve.

“For first 3 years, even though you wouldn’t know it unless I told you, they were very spiritually oriented,” she says. “I was very much affected by my environment, the earth and environment.”

In more recent years her work has a different influence, music.

“I love jazz so much.” says Hyland (who is also a singer).

Jazz has taken over for spirituality. Doesn’t it always? Or is it the same thing?  Hyland isn’t sure of the reason for the focus of her work changing.

“I wish I could give you a really good reason for going from spiritual and space oriented kind of environment to jazz it just happened like that. I said ‘my god I love jazz,’ she says. “I sing blues; My whole life revolves around music and art so why don’t I connect music and art? They are the same thing. One you apply to canvas and one you hear.”

She says that all the old singers, Etta James, Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald and more sang from the heart. Blues and jazz are from the heard and Hyland says that is where her paintings come from as well.

Hyland went back to art school after some time off.

“I wasn’t a kid, I went there later (art school) studied figurative drawing, I just sat and did life drawing for a year because I wanted to have a really good classical foundation. I wasn’t thinking in terms of being an abstract artist. I’d be sitting in class w all these kids, they could draw awesomely, they could copy anything They would miss nothing. I had to go thru a really big struggle to draw. I learned to because anybody, if you apply yourself, can learn to draw. But it was nothing for them, it was just a rendering.”

But a funny thing happened when Hyland looked at the work of these young artists; she saw something missing in the precise, correct work.

“When I really looked at their work there was very little passion, very little feeling, it didn’t represent a struggle, and maybe that is why I like blues so much too, it always represents a struggle.” she says.

All art comes from struggle of some sort. This doesn’t mean artists have to hack off their ears or drink paint thinner. The struggle doesn’t have to be extreme, it can be internal, it can be mental. Or it can be trying to master the form in a drawing class as Hyland did

After working on the form and classical technique Hyland promptly decided her work would not be based on the external world.

“I don’t want to reference anything on the outside, I don’t want to even reference nature; except as it comes to me, as nature does, just in a quiet maybe subliminal way,” she says. “I didn’t want to do anything anyone else was doing. I didn’t want to paint anything that represented exterior reality. Because then I felt it was a copy, that it was not myself. That is why I became an abstract painter, because it represents me. My feelings, my emotions and my dreams.”

Some might think; if your aim is abstraction why study classically? This is sort of like asking; if you want to be a plumber why learn how to use a snake?

“I feel very strongly about learning the basics and the essentials. It was like going to school I will never use algebra and geometry again but what it does is it trains your mind in a certain way,” says Hyland. “Then you can release. It is a kind of paradox that you go into this restrictive kind of education but if you approach it right it gives you freedom--because you never have to think about it again.”

And just because she doesn’t paint portraits is not an indication there are no forms in Hyland’s work.  Form abounds.

“I felt I really wanted to learn to draw, wanted to see how people moved, understand the figure, and so I did it then I released the whole thing,” says Hyland. “If you go on my website you will see some very abstract and figurative work. Some of my paintings may have 100 200 figures in them.”

Her paintings are abstract but are carefully done. People sometimes make the mistake of thinking an abstract painting is somehow a random thing. This is not usually the case with anything good (allowing for the odd “happy accident”).

“If you don’t go through that process (at least for me I cannot speak for others) I don’t have a complete understanding, it is necessary for me to go through the fundamentals,” she says. “I don’t need to know all that music, all that theory to sing the blues but I can still pick up a sheet of music and see what the writer intended and then put it away.”

Abstract art often perplexes people not well versed in art. This isn’t some dismissive, elitist, statement. American football perplexes many who hail from Europe. Cricket perplexes Americans. It is mostly a lack of familiarity, not knowing the rules, that leads to a lack of understanding. And knowing about art is, generally, more rewarding in the long run, that understanding football (depending on the artist or football team of course).

“A lot of people do not understand abstract painting. A lot of people, they want to love art but they do not know how to love art. If you do not know you need to immerse yourself in it.  When I was in New York I went to museums every single day. I looked at art constantly, I would go to the Metropolitan, and I had reading privileges there, and they would take out old master drawings, and I would just look at art,” says Hyland. “They have to look at art all the time. You have to. I think that is the most essential thing to keep looking, even if you don’t get it. Eventually you will get it.  Eventually you are going to find something that resonates with you. It may be classical drawing, it may be abstract, it may be pop, It may be surreal but you are going to find one artist that really speaks to you and is going to bring you out. It is like being in school and that one teacher that knew how to get to you and made a difference in your life. I think it is the same with art; you are going to find one artist who speaks to you. For me it was Van Gogh.”

Later, when she became more sophisticated, she gravitated to the German Expressionists.

“I was particularly affected by it because that period was just totally amazing period. The Nazis called it degenerate art.” she says.” Those are influences for me. Maybe they would influence others too because art is so universal. Everybody wants to be touched by beauty or a certain line or certain chord of music. It is just a matter of exposing yourself to it and then you are going to find it.”

And what about the painting that struck me from across a crowded room? Matrix Fragment is the sort of painting Hyland paints to relax, to cool down. They are reflective and, she HINTS, maybe not as tough to do as some of her others.

“It is almost like a reverie; it is realizing.  When I want to settle down for my other paintings I do one of these. I call these my R.E.M paintings. “ says Hyland.

They are quite striking, beautiful and nearly impossible to get the full measure of via online images. Hyland's work at Art Miami was shown by by Timothy Yarger Fine Art who will be at Art Chicago/ Next beginning on April 28.

If you’re looking for a lesson in early West Coast punk, Dave Travis is your man. After all, before taking time off to edit his countless homemade videos of 1980s LA punk shows into a cohesive documentary, titled A History Lesson Part 1, he taught middle school and high school social studies.

“As a teacher I taught history, geography, and economics. I really like geography,” says the man who known to his students as just ‘Travis’. “I have a degree in geography. When I was video recording, I needed a source of stable income, so I got a position as a teacher because I like teaching stuff.”

Travis’s love for teaching shows. In conversation Travis can hardly contain his encyclopedic knowledge on punk and punk history. And with A History Lesson, Travis is able to share the rise of the West Coast punk scene from his own eyes with home movies he shot as a teenager in LA County. And there is no man more capable of assembling such a collection as Travis, who witnessed the punk emergence from different vantage points. Travis saw it from the venue floors as an audience member, he experienced it from the backstage as a roadie, and eventually he created it from the stage as a performer in his own right.

Travis got his first taste of punk after seeing an X concert at a venue called The Whiskey.

“Seeing X and getting exposed to punk really opened things up to me,” says Travis. “At the shows there were always 200 to 300 people, with no restrictions between you and the band and where you can be. X was the best band I had ever seen live—DJ Bonebrake is an amazing drummer. It made me feel at home, and it made me want to come back.”

Travis went back many times, as indicated by the sheer amount of footage he has acquired over the years. A History Lesson Part 1 is the first in a series of compilations of these homemade movies, and film screenings are taking place throughout California. The screenings are followed by performances from local LA punk bands—legend Mike Watt of The Minutemen, one of the subjects of the film, has even joined A History Lesson on occasion, as has Travis’s own group Carnage Asada. The most recent screening was at the Ninth Street Independent Film Center as part of a benefit to help save the KUSF is a community radio station at the University of San Francisco.

The film conveys a feel for the early 1980s punk scene in LA. Travis includes performances he shot of iconic bands The Minutemen, The Meat Puppets, Red Kross, and Twisted Roots. Travis was specific in his choice of bands for the focus of his first film. As the title implies, these groups have certainly earned their place in the history of not only punk, but also popular music for their influential experimentation.

“The psychedelic elements of the featured bands definitely influenced a lot of later bands and groups from that area,” explains Travis. “Redd Kross and The Minutemen were different from everyone else in hardcore punk. Their songs didn’t just use that one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four structure. They were more experimental; they were among the first punk bands to experiment and include different styles, not just hardcore.”

Like all good history lessons, Travis’s film acts as a link between the growing years of Generation X and its adult years.

“The Meat Puppets were a big influence on Nirvana, and they were one of the bigger acts who were able to travel outside the state,” continues Travis. “They played Washington, so they influenced those bands. The Meat Puppets just played wherever they could, just like The Minutemen and Redd Kross.”

Travis also picked those four bands for logistical reasons.

“I started chronologically. The first tapes I made were from 1983 to 1984, and the bands featured in the movie are from that early period,” says Travis. “They were chosen because they had the best quality video. Some of the bands from that period I couldn’t use because I couldn’t get permission.”

What separates A History Lesson from most rockumentaries is that Travis leaves his subjects’ performances in their original state: uncut and without voiceover. Furthermore, Travis’s film aesthetically captures the DIY ethic that is central to punk rock.

“The movie is really low budget. No one was hired, and I didn’t have anyone to help me,” says Travis. “The idea behind punk is that you do it yourself, otherwise no one else is going to do it, and that’s similar to what I did with this movie.”

In addition to live recordings, the film features interviews with members of each band.

“The interviews with Redd Kross, Twisted Roots, and The Minutemen are from 1994 to 1996,” says Travis. “That was when I was working with [Carnage Asada bassist] Dave Jones, who was working on a book about LA Punk. We taped the interviews for future use. For Meat Puppets, we just interviewed them when they were down here for a summer, that wasn’t too hard. Those weren’t the only interviews though. We interviewed whom we could; there were about 70 interviews.”

In the interview, viewers can see how the punk rockers compare to their onstage personas.

“The artists definitely become livelier onstage,” says Travis. “That’s common with the singers, like Jack Brewer and Keith Morris [of Black Flag]. It’s not that they become different people; they just become more energetic and livelier.”

Travis developed his interviewing style and learned the filming trade from his father.

“I worked with my Dad on shows like 60 Minutes and CBS News,” says Travis. “I worked on the sound, and while I was working on these news programs, I saw the interviews and that was how I learned journalism. I saw the questions they asked and learned how to interview. My Dad was the one who taught me the basic skills of using filming and video equipment.”

Mr. Travis never thought twice of how his son was honing his craft.

“My Dad just thought it was good that I was doing something,” says Travis. “He just wanted me to learn how to use the equipment, and the best way to learn is to practice. I was using hand-me-down equipment; I guess you could consider it on-the-job-training.”

Any editor, or teenager for that matter, would kill for the kind of training Travis experienced. The punk historian became a staple in the LA punk scene due to all the equipment he carried to live shows.

“I had on a VCR, like one you’d keep in a house, and I wore this lighting belt with motorcycle batteries and electrifiers that were used to power the camera,” says Travis. “It was not easy to shoot stuff and get around. The audience didn’t have any problems with me; at the shows I always saw the same people and they saw me. The bigger bands sometimes wouldn’t let me film them, but the smaller ones would want me to film them. My stuff would sometimes get messed up if someone would stage-dive on me. Now, people who want to film a show just use their iPhone to film shows, which I think is great.”

It is clear that Travis would have been grateful to have an iPhone for his filming his home movies, since technological constraints prevented his documentary from coming out sooner.

“Editing systems are so much better today, I was able to make the movie right on my computer,” says Travis. “Originally, you’d have to go from one VHS tape to another, and the tapes didn’t even have time codes, so you tracked your video by how the wheel was turned. This made editing very imprecise and you could cut off a fourth of a second of tape—but on a computer, you can get it really accurate, and when you need to try something else, there are different ways to edit a tape.”

All the equipment Travis had came in handy however, since the filmographer was able to participate in a southern California tradition: generator parties.

 “We would do these generator shows because when you’re under 21, it’s hard to get into some shows,” says Travis. “So we got our own generator and PA system and set up these shows. We’d go out on the beach in Malibu; we did a show in an abandoned missile silo; we also did one behind this restaurant. We put on these shows all around LA. One time someone suggested we do a generator show in the desert. So in the middle of nowhere we’d set up the PA and just jam. Redd Kross and Sonic Youth were doing that before I did any shows, but I saw how they did it and it was so simple. I was inspired, so I borrowed my Dad’s equipment and put on my own.”

Travis then explained the significance of generator shows to the southern California punk scene as a benchmark separating the true fans from the casual listeners.

“The shows were fun, and they are still done today,” says Travis. “Desert shows have a different feel from regular shows since select people found out that they were going on, and then not everyone was willing to drive to the desert and hike two to three miles to the show. There was nowhere to park, so that’s what you had to do, and the people who do that must be very dedicated. The shows would go on all night until sunrise, and you could get really close to the band. Or you could go off to the rocks and watch nature, and the since it was out in the desert you could see the stars so clearly.”

After gaining notice for his filming capabilities, Travis gained editing experience working his way from underground films to MTV specials. He worked closely with director Dave Markey, who started out with cult hits before moving on to documentaries. Travis’s first project with Markey was the punk schlock classic Lovedolls Superstar, done with Markey’s own studio We Got Power.

 “Dave had previously done Desperate Teenage Lovedolls, and for Superstar I helped with editing, shooting, and any other extra work,” says Travis. “I was still in high school at the time, but his friends had heard about me and they knew where I lived. When I was videotaping punk shows, it was not a common thing—not many other people were doing that. So word spread and Dave came to me.”

Travis’s work on the underground film showed the emerging editor how DIY was not just an onstage concept. Travis was able to see this DIY ethic in comparison to the work his father did for CBS.

 “It was different than working for CBS,” says Travis. “CBS is a corporation where everyone has one position and one job to do. At We Got Power, it was just Markey, Jordan Schwartz, and whomever they had to help them out with whatever they could. There are few people who do what they can. While shooting the movie, I saw that most of the lines were improvised, and it was really just a bunch of friends having fun making a movie.”

While with We Got Power, Travis was still working alongside family: his sister Abby worked on the Lovedolls Superstar soundtrack.

“The funny thing about that is, the movie was about a fictitious band called The Lovedolls, and then a real life Lovedolls band started up, and it included my sister. But, she wasn’t in the movie band at all; she just made a cameo appearance.

Also, on the soundtrack were Dead Kennedys and Sonic Youth. Even though Sonic Youth is from New York, they came to LA in 1985 and played at a desert party with Meat Puppets and Redd Kross, who did most of the Lovedolls soundtrack. They became friends with the guys in Redd Kross, and through them they met Markey, and through him they were able to get a spot on the soundtrack.”

On the other side of working with Markey, Travis participated in serious film work as well. The two were tasked with making a Kurt Cobain tribute for the 1994 MTV Video Music Awards.

“Making the tribute was heavy stuff,” says Travis. “We went through a lot of material, watching all their footage and interviews. Markey directed and I edited, and we were happy to do what the Nirvana people wanted. It was a heavy experience to being there with them and watching the footage, which they’d never seen before. They were good people to work with, even under those heavy circumstances. They were big stars, but they weren’t assholes or anything.”

It had only been two years since Travis finished working with Markey on the director’s magnum opus, the punk and early grunge documentary 1991: The Year Punk Broke.

“After Markey accompanied Sonic Youth on their European tour with Nirvana, he came back to LA with all this footage which I edited and transferred to video, using each song as a video and the live audio recording,” says Travis. “It was a good project, and it was fun since it let me listen to Nirvana and Sonic Youth every day.”

Travis is not just an avid listener and documenter of punk rock; he also creates it. His A History Lesson project has not only given new life to his home videos, but also to his psychedelic punk group Carnage Asada. Through Carnage Asada, Travis is living the life he witnessed through the lens of his handheld cameras, and he is able to be an active part in keeping the alive the punk ethics of DIY and camaraderie.

“With the groups I play with,” says Travis. “There’ll be a guy who plays in two to three bands, and the guys in those bands play in two or three other bands. It creates a web. You come to understand a band better because you understand the people in them and you’ve jammed with them.”

Carnage Asada, as a frequent follow-up act to a History Lesson Part 1 screening, is gaining greater exposure and more work.

“We’ve been working on our new album,” says Travis. “We recorded the songs back from 2003 to 2004, and we’re in the process of mixing it now. Hopefully this spring we can record some stuff with our new guitar player Tony Fate.”

Carnage Asada is not Travis’s first experience travelling with a punk band, however. Back in the 1980s, Travis knew the groups of his hometown well enough that he would tour with them, giving him a firsthand account of the spread of punk across the West Coast.

“I went on tour with Killroy in 1984 when I was just 16 years old,” says Travis. “For that tour we went to all these small towns, and their punk scenes were different compared to that of LA. In LA, punk had been well established, but it was groups like Killroy were bringing punk to these small towns.

 In 1985, I traveled with Redd Kross on their tour. They were a better band and they put on better shows, and back then there were no restrictions on driving for kids like me. In 1991, I went on tour with Celebrity Skin, working as a roadie and a soundman.

As for interesting stories, I remember when touring with Celebrity Skin, their drummer Don Bolles was eating at a Waffle House with us, and someone from the band put $5 in the jukebox and played Waffle House songs until he cried.”

Travis continued to tour in 1990s, only by this time he had made a name for himself as a musician. It was his time to observe shows from the stage itself. 

“In the 1990s I joined this band WACO and played cello for them; we went on a few tours. It was always interesting to see different places, and the experience certainly made high school more interesting,” says Travis. “There were a lot of punkers right in LA; there always were.”

There always will be too, as Travis has learned during his time as a social studies teacher.

“I taught in South Central LA, and while I thought there were a lot of punk rockers there, there were more than when I was in high school,” says Travis. “When I was in school, it was new; punk rock was still catching on. Now, almost 25 years later, the younger students knew certain bands that had different influences. I saw high school bands forming between friends with common interests who just wanted to play. I watched as they started out playing at parties to getting their own shows.”

Travis’s students have returned the favor by serving as audience members at his History Lesson screenings.

“I do see former students at the History Lesson screenings, and I go to talk to them,” says Travis. “They’ll come to my Carnage Asada shows—as a teacher I wasn’t antagonistic or anything. We’re always happy to see each other. To them I never was ‘Mr. Travis’, I was always just Travis.”

The historian known simply as Travis will continue teaching his unique history lesson, as he already has a second film lined up.

“We’re working on A History Lesson Part 2, and I’ve learned some things from making the first movie,” says Travis. “For Part 1, I edited all the interviews first, then I tried to get the clearances. I profiled 12 bands originally, but I was only able to clear four of them. For Part 2, I have to figure out who I generally want to use and get them cleared first.”

The only confirmed band for A History Lesson Part 2 was Saccharine Trust, and Travis has a history with the South bay punk band’s eccentric frontman.

“Saccharine Trust will be featured in Part 2; they were another SST band that worked with Black Flag,” says Travis. “I worked with their singer Jack Brewer on this poetry record he did. He’s really cool, and the thing about the record was that all the songs, they were live recordings we did at the Hollywood Christmas Parade. We recorded him reciting his poetry on Hollywood Boulevard as the parade went by. He has such intense words; it was all pretty interesting.”

Until them, the Part 1 screenings and Carnage Asada shows don’t look like they’ll be stopping anytime soon.