Few, if any, living musicians can boast that their songs have been covered by a more diverse constellation of indie stars as can Daniel Johnston: Beck, The Velvet Underground, Tom Waits, Karen O, Sonic Youth, Dead Milkmen, Yo La Tengo, The Flaming Lips, The Butthole Surfers, Death Cab For Cutie, The Eels, Half Japanese, and Bright Eyes, among others, have all cut versions of the diagnosed bi-polar’s originals. Hell, Johnny Depp even did one. As if these weren’t enough feathers in his cap, the pop songwriting savant is also a Whitney Biennial-featured visual artist, the subject of an acclaimed Sundance documentary and upcoming Hollywood bio-pic, and a cult hero to his many indie rock acolytes.

one of said acolytes

AG: Ever get to meet him?

DJ: No, not yet. It’d be cool to see him sometime.

AG: How did your music end up in the Larry Clark/Harmony Korine cult classic Kids?

DJ: Well it was kind of funny, it was like a little kiddie pornography movie that they made, and then when they used the song in the movie, they got violent and they were beating up this one kid (laughs), and they were playing “Casper the Friendly Ghost,” at the same time, with the chord organ, and I didn’t realize the music made people feel that way.

AG: Maybe it was a little joke they were having, with the character named Casper in the movie?

DJ: Yeah! (laughs)

AG: Didn’t you play some music on the Henry Rollins Show, too?

DJ: Yeah, when I was on that show, he wasn’t there, ‘cause they had it like, pretend like he had said something, and then I’m supposed to answer, and then they re-edit it later (laughs).

DJ: Yeah, he was one of my friends, I used to go to his house and we’d watch horror movies and stuff. He was a big fan of monster movies, much as I am.

AG: Like what?

DJ: We saw The Last House On The Left.

AG: That’s a scary one.

DJ: Yeah it sure is. We were watching this other thing that was like a bunch of trailers, right? And it came to a part where all these vampire girls were in it naked and jumping around, and I was like, “Hey, look at this,” you know, in my mind, and he turned it off because he thought it was sort of too much (laughs).

AG: Do you feel your best music was created when you were the happiest or the unhappiest?

DJ: Well, it’s happy or sad, it all depends on how I feel, you know?

To read more from Andy’s interview with Daniel Johnston, go HERE.

LMC | Where do the surf influences come from? Ever tried the sport?

TV | Well, due to an accident while swimming in the sea, we met the surfer Moondoggy. We were fascinated with his sport surfing and started to hang out with his clique. Although they made fun of us at first, they taught us to surf. Soon we were accepted and given the nickname “Gidget.”

LMC | Tell us a bit about the new album. Will it be for sale at Psych Fest 2?

TV | We are having a limited edition pressing of the new album that should be available at Psych Fest. It will definitely be available for our in-store at End of and Ear, and also all of our shows during SXSW. Anyone that is on our mailing list will have the opportunity to get a copy, so if you’re not going to be in Austin don’t fret! Just join our mailing list!

LMC | What bands new and old have inspired the “Wave of Sound” The Vandelles bring to our ears?

TV | The Beach Boys, Shangri-las, Jesus and Mary Chain side projects, and two words: Phil. Spector.

LMC | Who is the album being released with?

TV | My mama told me, you gotta shop around…

LMC | How did the band come together?

TV | Originally we all met at Rutgers while going to school. It’s hard to find people who have similar taste in music, so we were lucky find each other via local basement shows. At a show in Boston a couple years ago we played with Christo’s band Sanguine Drone. After the show, he led us to an IHOP, and we knew it was meant to be. When Dave left to travel and Sanguine Drone broke up, it seemed natural that Christo would join the band.

LMC | The band uses lots if vintage equipment. What is your favorite piece of equipment or what was the best find?

TV | For Honey’s birthday, we found her a sweet Ludwig Superphonic snare from the early 60s. It’s the same model as used by the Beach Boys when recording their early singles. Jason plays an early 60s Univox. Dave used a Mosrite Celebrity on the record. Christo uses a Space Echo from the 70s. Lisha’s bass is really nice, and every year it becomes more vintage.

LMC | Who does your projections?

TV | Dave put the projections together using old film footage. Recently, Christo has been working on some new projections for the new songs.

LMC | Are any of the band members involved, you know, romantically?

TV | Yes, back when we used to be called Fleetwood Mac.

LMC | What is the songwriting process like for the Vandelles?

TV | There’s no “I” in “team”. Jason had written most of the early material, like “Lovely Weather.” Now we are building off of that, writing together as a group and we are really excited about the direction that is taking, with songs like “Bad Volcano.”

Check out the exclusive LMC video of The Vandelles performing “Bad Volcano” live at Psych Fest II on Friday, March 13th 2009!

thevandelles.com | myspace.com/thevandelles

Meet Graham Williams | The Man Behind The Music

By Andy Gately

If you’ve never heard his name, you’ve probably heard his work. It’s no accident that Austin became synonymous with live music. It nurtures innovative new acts through its community of aficionados and tastemakers, an epicenter of Cool functioning both as training ground for up-and-coming musicians and melting pot for diverse sounds and influences. In an environment which, at its best, fosters a spirit of camaraderie over competition, the resulting freedom of artistic expression encourages experimentation and breeds unique musical permutations.

In other words, Austin’s chief export is rocking your shit, Jack.

And it is people such as Graham who help make this happen.

For years, the place in town that best paired the working underground rock band with its ideal audience has had but one name: Emo’s.

One look at the around-the-block lines at the 6th Street staple during South by Southwest, where it expands to a total of four stages, and you know what time it is. Ask someone from another city to name a club in Austin, and the answer is usually the same.

And it ain’t the atmosphere (though it certainly has its charm) that keeps crowds coming back, and regulars coming in every night of the week, regardless of who’s playing, just to see what treasure may await, so they can say, “Man, I saw Spoon when they were underground…”

It’s because, for the last decade, Emo’s has meant one thing: good music.

Long a ground zero for the prototypical indie band, many an unknown trio of teenagers has spawned on its Lone Star-slicked floors, struggling and squirming in its musty, sweaty elemental soup, mutating like unicellulars of the pre-Cambrian while workshopping different combinations in hopes of striking on that one alchemical algorithm that, when the right amount of Heat is applied, yields the New Sound, that one that makes the kids dance in a way they’ve never danced before, and evolving it into the next trilobite to claw out of the primordial ooze and walk the earth, bad and nationwide.

But it wasn’t always like that.

When Emo’s (named not for the music genre, but indirectly after the comic Emo Phillips, as Graham reveals in the above interview) first hung out its shingle in the late nineties, along with a now-defunct sister club in Houston, it had to work to distinguish itself just like any other.

A key element in its success was the owner’s decision to hire Mr. Williams as the booker. Williams realized that many smaller traveling bands who made their living on the road in that rusty tour van were avoiding Austin because most clubs refused to offer these riskier artists monetary guarantees, so they circuited through Houston and Dallas instead, where these were more readily available. Seeing this void, Williams set out to fill it, even offering up his own money as guarantees early on to kick-start the process.

His vision proved prescient, for word spread quickly to both touring bands and local fans, and soon Emo’s was the place to be for independent label and unsigned artists, enjoying a reputation for quality and soon becoming Austin’s most recognizable exponent of live bands on the cusp of breaking mainstream.

After ten years of helping to establish the scene at Emo’s, Williams went into business for himself, and perhaps not coincidentally, the club’s star has dimmed somewhat since. His first major project was starting a little outdoor music party called Fun Fun Fun Fest.

Only in its third year, the show coming up on November 8-9th features an impressive lineup, including (among plenty more) Bad Brains, The National, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Atmosphere, Black Joe Lewis, Kool Keith, and a one-night-only Dead Milkmen reunion show.

Williams along with several partners also started Transmission Entertainment, an agency which books many of the rising new Red River district stars such as Red 7, Club De Ville, Beauty Bar, Lambert’s and the new big kid on the block, Mohawk. After helping Mohawk become a new downtown favorite among bands and patrons for its unique space, outdoor stage, and rooftop lounge, Williams is parlaying this latest success into the opening of a new, larger club, the forthcoming Radio Room. Judging by his track record, you might want to remember the name.

Graham continues to quietly help expand Austin’s already-renowned music offerings and ensure the town’s standing as a musical Mecca to which thousands pilgrimage annually to pay tribute.

If you like your bars mafia-owned and periodically announcing “Dollar shots, ladies!,” the music of booty DJ’s and cover bands, and enjoy being solicited by crack dealers while side-stepping horse manure courtesy of Austin’s finest mounted police only to land in the vector of a frat guy puking burnt orange, go to 6th street. All others might want to check out 7th.

Red River is the new 6th, and Mohawk is the new Emo’s.

The king is dead, long live the king.

Transmission Entertainment | Interview Part 2

As Headdress prepares for a two week tour with Sweden’s Dungen we asked them a few quick questions before they hit the road.

LMC | What are you guys doing to get ready for the tour?

HEADDRESS | Just jamming I guess. I’m about to buy a van.

LMC | How did you land the Dungen tour anyhow?

HEADDRESS | The cats at Kemado set it up. They played Dungen our record when they came through for their release party and the next word I heard from them was that they had offered us nine dates.

LMC | Any expectations from the two week trip?

HEADDRESS | We’ve never played in any of the cities we’re going to so that in itself is pretty far out. I’m looking forward to Toronto on Halloween night. And the first show is at the Music Hall of Williamsburg w/ Dungen, Marissa Nadler, and TK Webb & the Visions. That’s going to be a dynamite night, man.

LMC | After the tour you’ll be recording a new album. You’ve said it will be recorded in PA. Why?

HEADDRESS | It’s not concrete yet where it will all go down, but I want to record it somewhere in the country where it’s quiet and you can hear the grooves. A friend has a place out in rural PA that sounds like what we’re looking for. We want to be alone and the feeling of seclusion while we create. We have about three quarters of the record already written, so we just need to get lost somewhere for it all to come together.

LMC | What do you hope to accomplish on this album?

HEADDRESS | Transcendental blues, man. We just want to make a really groovy record. Our sound has changed a lot since Turquoise and we’re in different places. Everything changes when you start playing with electricity. I’m addicted to my space echo now and have been listening to a lot of old Swedish Prog and Mongolian horse-head fiddle tunes. We just want to make a record that gets you stoned on its own, you dig.

LMC | Any ideas for a theme, title, image yet? Do these things come to mind beforehand and direct you?

HEADDRESS | Not sure, really. The record is definitely going to be darker than Turquoise and we’re recording it in the winter, so I’m sure that will play into the groove. I’d love for Tracy Conti to do the artwork again, so I’m sure it’ll be out of sight if she does. I’m not really sweating it too much. It will come with the grooves.

LMC | Have you found a label to release the album? Will it be limited in #?

HEADDRESS | We’ll see. I’m hoping Kemado will drop it proper, but we haven’t signed anything yet. They’re all really groovy cats, so I’d really like to stay with them if our stars align.

LMC | Can we expect a cd release in Austin?

HEADDRESS | That would be groovy. If it works out the way I want it to, the record should drop early March. So we’ll definitely be coming down for SXSW. Austin was good to us and we had the opportunity to play a few really rad gigs while we were there. I mean, it’s Austin, you dig. It’s a groovy little city.

Hacienda | Loud is the Night | REVIEW

By Travis Catsull

Dan Auerbach of The Black Keys refers to them as, “Mexican-Americans who are obsessed with the Beach Boys” and after listening to their debut album, Loud is the Night, that statement rings true. And it’s a harmonic ringing culled from another time and even with comparable efforts (The Carrots) cropping up in Austin, TX it’s reminiscent of another time zone. How about 1965, Huntington Beach, CA, the sun is setting and a friend opens a cooler of ice cold beer? That sounds refreshing and so does Hacienda. It’s exciting to hear a rebirth of 60’s doo-wop twisted tightly in a pop rock prom dress. Largely recorded in a home studio in Akron, OH with members of The Black Keys and Dr. Dog, the tracks roll out smooth with a comforting sincerity. From the song “Shake Ya”, Nature’s sun / why don’t you come out? / why don’t you feel good? / Yeah you know you ought to know / you say you love me, but you’re just too high bring an easy going, carefree feeling to carry us through the album. Loud is the Night has bolted from Hacienda’s south-central Texas estate to rave reviews and danceable convictions. Loud is the Night is the album to carry us into winter as they hop on the bus with Dr. Dog for a two week tour to NY in celebration of one of the most unique and promising releases this year.

The Dirt Road to Psychedelia | REVIEW

By Andy Gately

“Peyote was legal in those days. They thought it was an ornamental shrub.”

Ah, the hippie heydays of yore, when the music was better, the love was free, the streets were paved with acid, and cops handed out morning glories instead of citations. It was a different time, you understand. Seems like back then Timothy Leary was the dean, Willie Nelson the mayor, and Abbie Hoffman the chief of police.

For those Austinites too young to be flower children, the next best thing is local filmmaker Scott Conn’s new documentary Dirt Road to Psychedelia: Austin, Texas During the 1960s. With a wealth of vintage Super-8 footage, musician interviews, early recordings, recently-unearthed photos, and stories of revelry and rebellion told by those who lived it, it’s enough to bring a tear to your pot-smoking granddad’s crimson eye.

Ten years in the making, the research paid off. Conn has sussed out a number of players and artifacts of the period in this city’s heritage when the flames of cultural revolution were fanned by the political undesirables and fringe elements of society unafraid to experiment with new approaches, states of consciousness and technological innovation, and musical evolution was forged in the hotbeds of honky-tonk dive bars and smoke-stained juke joints. Places like Threadgill’s and, more famously, The Vulcan Gas Company, which opened its doors on Congress Ave. in October 1967. Run by a loose collective of artists as a virtual commune for nonconformists and kindred spirits, it hosted some of the best troubadours of the day, be they folk, blues, or that new bastard offspring of the latter, rock ‘n’ roll. Canned Heat, John Lee Hooker, Lightnin’ Hopkins, Captain Beefheart and the Magic Band, The Fugs, The Velvet Underground, and Muddy Waters all passed across its legendary stage, not to mention Austin’s own seminal psych-rock pioneers, The 13th Floor Elevators. The film muses in depth on their widely influential sound, which through singer/songwriter Roky Erickson’s electric guitar and Tommy Hall’s electric jug helped define the psychedelic movement.

Aside from introducing a younger generation to the aural pleasures to be derived from local bands like Shiva’s Headband, the Conqueroo, and the Hub City Movers, Dirt Road also explores, through the anecdotes of the scene’s surviving minstrels and hangers-on, the rise to prominence of Janice Joplin, who lived and gigged regularly in Austin. At the time, rock ‘n’ roll had yet to be recognized as the midwife of radical change that it would soon embody a couple years later, and was instead considered a rival form to be looked down upon as vapid and pandering by many of the folkies, who identified the Beats as their spiritual precursors and aspired to similar intellectual and artistic heights. Joplin’s progression to mainstream crossover success, therefore, helped provide a bridge between the acoustic and electric sets, and hearing first hand accounts of her origins is fascinating to any students of music history.

The psychedelic aesthetic that was born in the 60s is also nicely examined. We learn about the print process and inspirations behind those kaleidoscopic posters and handbills proliferated by the Vulcan and sister sources in San Francisco, which will forever be associated in people’s minds with the era (and are now highly coveted by collectors). The film even features a mini-tutorial on the art of live liquid light manipulation that results in all those phantasmagoric rear projections of pulsing alien hearts and polymorphous pseudopods which were once ubiquitous but have fallen into neglect as of late, and instantly conjure up sublime go-go’s gyrating to a jangly Fender Strat being tortured through a vacuum tube amp with ripped cones. Get a pair of clock faces, just add food coloring and baby oil, and then “Pretend it’s a girl you’re dancing with, and you got her by the hips,” and you too will be mesmerizing psych audiences with fantastic imagery to make ‘em feel they’ve just downed a cap or twelve of distilled psilocybin.

Aside from the visual components, the film’s talking heads provide interesting commentary and reflections. The inevitable air of nostalgia that threads through their accounts for their time and place as they wax philosophic about the factors that contributed to their generation’s zeitgeist is tempered by a palpable and prevailing feeling of melancholy in light of the current state of world affairs. After all, the 60s were a time of action coupled with a let’s-all-join-hands-and-levitate-the-Pentagon naiveté where anything was possible through Love, and where has it landed us? At one point, a woman laments the fact that she sees absolutely no trace in contemporary society that the 60s ever took place at all. So what happened? In the delicate assessment of one sagely veteran in the film, “We got our f—ing asses handed to us.”

It could be argued that the 60s counterculture failed to achieve many of their goals, but at least in their haze of cannabis smoke and mescaline vision quests, when they were seeing Aztec temples and transcending the temporal sphere, Austin’s musical forerunners weren’t too blazed to remember to hit the “record” button, and for that, we can be ever grateful that, at the very least, the music has survived. For its microcosmic visual counterpart, that same gratitude can now be extended to Mr. Scott Conn.

For more information on the film and to purchase a DVD here to buy tickets.