Show Poster of the Week - Sudie, War Party, The Cush at Barcadia

Once a week FWN features a show poster from the Fort.

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This week we are delighted to feature Cody Soape's dreamcicle of a poster for a show taking place Monday Dec. 19th at Barcadia (Fort Worth location, duh!). The astral lineup of Sudie, War Party, and The Cush make this gig poster extra sidereal. 

The ice cream cone-shaped design cross-pollinates divinely with the stratified imagery of planet Earth's delicious layers. My eyes wish to devour their way down to the seaweed flavored bottom, but alas, my ravenous craving is counter-balanced by my desire to slowly take in every inch of strata as I move down its celestial ladder slide.

The Frank Stella/Peter Max-ish color palette drive it home for me. The colors man, the colors. My word. Artists like Cody Soape make our job easy.

Side bonus: below are some music viddyoze from the night's lineup - see you fellow Fort Worthians Monday. 

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about the word writer person:

Prewitt Scott-Jackson writes Dad poetry & short fiction when he's not hyping and typing for Fort Worth Noise. His writing can be found in Ghost City Press (New York), Five 2 One Magazine (Los Angeles), Prairie Schooner (University of Nebraska Press) and Sick Lit Magazine (Texas), among others. He prefers short walks on the beach because – and I quote – “It’s really hard to walk on sand.”

Sound Advice - What Band Merch Should We Sell?

This is FWN's 'Dear Abby' column: musicians send us questions, we post them with answers and a fun made-up pseudonym.

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Dear FWN,

Our band needs merch to sell and before we make this kind of investment we thought it wise to ask the band oracle. Stevie really likes the idea of putting our name on a Shake Weight® or a Snuggie® but idk, what says you?   

Thanks and stuff,

Dream Apple Moon III Esq.  

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Dear Dream Apple,

For starters, please tell Stevie to find a new weed dealer.  

You see, it’s been established since the beginning of Rock, that Music, Sticker and T-Shirt constitute the Holy Trinity of Merch.

1. Stickers aren’t necessarily merch per se as you should be handing these out for free. Always. For. Free.

Stickers are Promotion’s middle name. There is no surface in Funkytown where your sticker should NOT be stuck (except for covering over another band’s sticker; never do that, it’s a total dick move). Unless of course said band once... showed up late for load-in, failed to backline, took 20 minutes to mic check and reduced your set time by more than 60%. In that case, sure, cover it up.

2. T-Shirts are an absolute-freaking must. T-Shirts are Promotion’s surname because like surnames they last FOREVER because people nostalgically hang on to them FOREVER because even though it's just a name (or t-shirt as it were) people for some reason assign much more value to it than it's actually worth. Hell, even when they outgrow the t-shirt it gets passed on to the younger generations in their family and by geez, the younger generations wear that t-shirt because "vintage" band t-shirts are never not super cool. Henceforth, even in death, your band will be promoted by purchaser of your t-shirt. 

Also, if you want to actually experience success selling the t-shirts, buy black t-shirts.

3. Music because, like, duh? Ya gotta produce a record and ya gotta package it as a record. Whether you package it digitally online or print physical copies, you must sell the record for actual money. Give away ten t-shirts for all I care but sell your record for actual money or exchange.

It’s a principle that’s nearing extinction but simply put: musicians should be paid for their music. It's important.   

If you can sell a truckload of records and t-shirts first D.A., then by all means, tell Stevie to fire off that Shake Weight® order. 

Regretfully yours,

FWN

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about the word writer person:

Prewitt Scott-Jackson writes Dad poetry & short fiction when he's not hyping and typing for Fort Worth Noise. His writing can be found in Ghost City Press (New York), Five 2 One Magazine (Los Angeles), Prairie Schooner (University of Nebraska Press) and Sick Lit Magazine (Texas), among others. He prefers short walks on the beach because – and I quote – “It’s really hard to walk on sand.”

I Like This Song - All Clean's "Wake Up, You're Dead"

I Like This Song celebrates songs by local bands sans clichéd music journo over-analysis.

The furthest we take the dissection of songs featured here is, well, you guessed it: "I Like This Song." 

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Today's featured song is the debut track from All Clean, a solo project by Oil Boom guitarist Zack Edwards.  

Gotta tell ya, I like this song.  

Image via All Clean's Facebook

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about the word writer person:

Prewitt Scott-Jackson writes Dad poetry & short fiction when he's not hyping and typing for Fort Worth Noise. His writing can be found in Ghost City Press (New York), Five 2 One Magazine (Los Angeles), Prairie Schooner (University of Nebraska Press) and Sick Lit Magazine (Texas), among others. He prefers short walks on the beach because – and I quote – “It’s really hard to walk on sand.”

Show Poster of The Week - Pinkish Black, Wire Nest, Programme at Lola's

Once a week FWN features a show poster from the Fort.

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This week we drum up attention to the above eerie poster for a show taking place at Lola's featuring a hell of a lineup in Pinkish Black, Wire Nest, and Programme. Jon Teague of Pinkish Black designed this beauty himself.

If you can manage, I'm gonna wax philosophical a bit about the infectious nature of this piercing design...

Human ears without context are strange-looking, right? Like, ears attached to a head; cool, I can dig it. But ears on their own? Strange-looking to say the least. If this poster design doesn't gain your attention I'm not sure what will. 

And that's the express purpose of gig posters, right? They want your eyes.

In this case, it took a pair and a half of ears to win over my eyes; I find myself unable to stop looking at these beautifully displaced ears.  

Anyways, this show right hear gonna be a killer time at Lola's. Hope I didn't muff this post, we still best buds?

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about the word writer person:

Prewitt Scott-Jackson writes Dad poetry & short fiction when he's not hyping and typing for Fort Worth Noise. His writing can be found in Ghost City Press (New York), Five 2 One Magazine (Los Angeles), Prairie Schooner (University of Nebraska Press) and Sick Lit Magazine (Texas), among others. He prefers short walks on the beach because – and I quote – “It’s really hard to walk on sand.”

I Like This Song - Missing Sibling's "Color Inside The Lines"

I Like This Song celebrates songs by local bands sans clichéd music journo over-analysis.

The furthest we take the dissection of songs featured here is, well, you guessed it: "I Like This Song." 

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Today's featured song comes from Missing Sibling's recently released self-titled record that hit stores in April 2016 via Idol Records.

A quick aside, Missing Sibling may be my favorite band name of all-time.

Without further ado ... I like this song.  

Image via Missing Sibling Facebook

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about the word writer person:

Prewitt Scott-Jackson writes Dad poetry & short fiction when he's not hyping and typing for Fort Worth Noise. His writing can be found in Ghost City Press (New York), Five 2 One Magazine (Los Angeles), Prairie Schooner (University of Nebraska Press) and Sick Lit Magazine (Texas), among others. He prefers short walks on the beach because – and I quote – “It’s really hard to walk on sand.”

Sound Advice - How Do We Keep our Keyboardist from Sleeping with Everyone?

This is FWN's 'Dear Abby' column: musicians send us questions, we post them with answers and a fun made-up pseudonym.

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Dear FWN,

Our keyboardist's sex addiction, well, just their overall sexiness in general, is keeping our band from reaching its maximum potential. We have a gig Saturday, so we need to place a celibate keyboardist before the weekend commences.

Thanks in advance,

Thor Hammerstein

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My Dearest Thor,

Firstly, good luck with that whole "we need to place a celibate keyboardist" thing (you have better odds placing a celibate rabbit).

I mean, check out the following list of Greek sex gods: Ray Manzarek, David Bowie, Elton John, Jerry Lee Lewis, Brian Wilson, Little Richard, Ben Folds, Richard Wright, Ray Charles, Stevie Wonder, Steve Winwood, Freddie Mercury, hell, even JPJ laid down some sweet sexy keys riffs. This list doesn't even include the keyboard sex goddesses! 

Now then, since we've established keyboardists/pianists are inherently sex-charged, my advice is simple: go with it.

Look, if you have a keyboardist inserted as an integral part of your band on the permanent - not one of those that show up for the occasional live gig or makes its way into a few tracks on your record - your band is instantly granted seven sexy points on the standardized 30 Seconds to Mars Jared Leto Hotness Scale™.

In summation, your options are simple:

1. Own it, embrace their sexy sensual nature, it makes your band hot hot hot! [These last three words to be read aloud in Ruby Rhod's voice]

2. Find a Rent-a-Keys player (likely to be found lurking the electronic section of your local Guitar Center; but be careful, they bite).

3. Remove keys altogether i.e. be a band with zero sex appeal.

Hope this helps Thor,

Regretfully yours,

FWN

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about the word writer person:

Prewitt Scott-Jackson writes Dad poetry & short fiction when he's not hyping and typing for Fort Worth Noise. His writing can be found in Ghost City Press (New York), Five 2 One Magazine (Los Angeles), Prairie Schooner (University of Nebraska Press) and Sick Lit Magazine (Texas), among others. He prefers short walks on the beach because – and I quote – “It’s really hard to walk on sand.”

Show Poster of the Week - The Confounded Album Release Show at Lola's

Once a week FWN features a show poster from the Fort.

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This week we highlight a gem of a poster designed by Mean Motor Scooter's drummer Jeffrey Chase.

First off, if aliens are involved, count us in. Like, way in. 

Secondly, the juxtaposition of modernity's apex (alien technology) and the natural innocent wonderment of the Pacific Northwest landscape (assuming that's a depiction of Mt. St. Helens) helps create a visual that insta-connects the viewer with humanity's inherent neverending clash of modernity vs. the sacred. 

Plus, I like the colors.

Blackbox & JJTM host Saturday night's event. Be there or be.. rhombus?

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about the word writer person:

Prewitt Scott-Jackson writes Dad poetry & short fiction when he's not hyping and typing for Fort Worth Noise. His writing can be found in Ghost City Press (New York), Five 2 One Magazine (Los Angeles), Prairie Schooner (University of Nebraska Press) and Sick Lit Magazine (Texas), among others. He prefers short walks on the beach because – and I quote – “It’s really hard to walk on sand.”

10 Questions Interview - The Prof. Fuzz 63

Welcome to FWN's inaugural 10 Questions Interview. We are honored to have Professor Fuzz of The Prof. Fuzz 63 christen this fine ship as it sets sail into interwebs infamy...

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1. Dogs or Cats? Why?

PF: Dogs. Dogs are loyal. Cats are waiting for the chance to kill you and eat your flesh. 

2. Aliens. Do they exist?

PF: Yes. I know, for a fact, that Gibby is a lizardman. 

3. Drug of choice? (None is not an option btw)

PF: Claritin D

4. Brown or white gravy? (Neither is not an option btw)

PF: White gravy, with lots of black pepper. 

5. Favorite weapon of mass destruction? 

PF: Fuzz pedals. 

6. Favorite marsupial? 

PF: Opossums

7. Favorite Superhero?

PF: Tie: Howard the Duck and Tom Waits

8. Did Dez catch it?

PF: Nope.

9. When you die, if you were given the choice to come back as any animal, which would you choose?

PF: A fat lazy panda that bites drunk idiots who try to take a selfie with me. 

10. The best MJ is: Michael Jordan, Michael Jackson, Mike Jones, or Milla Jovovich?

PF: Mary Jane

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about the word writer person:

Prewitt Scott-Jackson writes Dad poetry & short fiction when he's not hyping and typing for Fort Worth Noise. His writing can be found in Ghost City Press (New York), Five 2 One Magazine (Los Angeles), Prairie Schooner (University of Nebraska Press) and Sick Lit Magazine (Texas), among others. He prefers short walks on the beach because – and I quote – “It’s really hard to walk on sand.”

Fuck Martin Shkreli

Raise your hand if you suck

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We hate him, we lov.. okay, okay. We really fucking hate him.

Oprah-rich big pharma shadester Martin Shkreli owns unreleased music by The Beatles, 2Pac, Nirvana, Hendrix, Radiohead, The Smiths and most famously, The Wu Tang Clan. The latter of which he promised to release if Trump won the election (a victory that Shkreli termed 'fantastic').

Hate him yet? Wait 'till you hear how he afforded all those musical treasures at auction.

Shkreli's namely notorious for his company's acquisition of the AIDS treatment Daraprim. At the time of acquisition, Daraprim sold for $13.50 a pill, providing reasonably affordable treatment for AIDS patients. Upon Shkreli's acquisition he immediately raised the price from $13.50 to $750 per pill!

How about now? You hate him enough now?

Anyways, a friend of mine in the press received his Google email address so FWN sent him an email the only way we know how. 

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about the word writer person:

Prewitt Scott-Jackson writes Dad poetry & short fiction when he's not hyping and typing for Fort Worth Noise. His writing can be found in Ghost City Press (New York), Five 2 One Magazine (Los Angeles), Prairie Schooner (University of Nebraska Press) and Sick Lit Magazine (Texas), among others. He prefers short walks on the beach because – and I quote – “It’s really hard to walk on sand.”

Sound Advice - What's the Best Way to Come Up with a Band Name?

This is FWN's 'Dear Abby' column: musicians send us questions, we post them with answers and a fun made-up pseudonym.

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Dear FWN,

Just formed a new band but we are seriously struggling to come up with a solid band name. What's the best way to come up with a band name?

xoxo,

Mic McAwesometown

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Hi Mic,

Great question. Like most things in life there are two ways to approach this common band conundrum: the easy way, and the hard way. 

The easy way is, well, it's easy. There are many band name generator websites out there that are capable of providing ass-kicking band names in a matter of nanoseconds.

Try bandnamemaker.com - I did, just now. I typed in the word Wolf and voila! Insta-results included Wolf Steak, Tax of the Wolf Cabbage, Wolf Spouse, Wolf Pasta & Unborn Wolf of the Edible Tomorrow.

The hard way involves much more preparation and dedication. As it were, this advice column aims to please so I will break it down into 5 simple steps:

1. Procure enough Peyote for the entire band to get comfortably shit-wasted.

2. Procure reliable vehicle that can make the drive out to the West Texas desert.

3. Fast for three days prior to making the trip.

4. Upon arrival, find the most desolate location imaginable and consume said Peyote.

5. Just wait for it.

Hope this helps Mic, appreciate the question.

Regretfully yours,

FWN

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about the word writer person:

Prewitt Scott-Jackson writes Dad poetry & short fiction when he's not hyping and typing for Fort Worth Noise. His writing can be found in Ghost City Press (New York), Five 2 One Magazine (Los Angeles), Prairie Schooner (University of Nebraska Press) and Sick Lit Magazine (Texas), among others. He prefers short walks on the beach because – and I quote – “It’s really hard to walk on sand.”

Where The West (Categorically) Begins: The Steve Gnash Experience

Fort Worth’s Steve Gnash and Dreamy Life Records release Gnash's eponymous debut record Friday Dec. 2nd at The Boiled Owl Tavern w/ Son of Stan and Same Brain. Gearing up for the big event I look back at my first Steve Gnash experience hoping to offer a glimpse of what to expect on Friday.

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It’s November and I’m tired. Really really tired and … ABSOLUTELY ENTHRALLED because Steve Gnash, per our Twitter interaction Nov. 7th, has agreed to give me unfettered access to his Nov. 9th show at The Live Oak in Fort Worth.

Twitter Screenshot courtesy of Prewitt Scott-Jackson

Flash forward two days, my Uber drops me off at The Live Oak. Not just any Uber, but like, honestly, the most cerebral Cinderella carriage-like Uber ride of the century. An omen of the night to come?

I’m early. Not just tonight, but always. Sipping cheap beer to numb my anxiousness, kill my nerves. Any second now and Steve Gnash was gonna walk through that door.

Then he did.

A light surrounds him. No, a halo. A halo of sunflower sunrays that scream “MAGIC!!” This guy is a certified Pop god.

An entourage follows: Two photographers, his manager, his driver, his personal nutrionist, an intimidating security guard, a sex bonfire of a backing band and an apple cart worth of adoring fans.  

My pen starts shaking in my hand. My blank notebook stares at me with grave doubt. Gnash immediately recognizes me as part of the press and precedes to one-hand-catch my dazed expression taking it back to the end zone for ‘6’ [sits down next to me in my mafia-inspired booth inside the Live Oak bar].

His entourage follows suit, filling up the entirety of the booth before I can blink. I’m enveloped by this sense I’ve been absorbed into his orbit. A star and his planets.

Initially, nothing is said to me. Logistics discussed amongst the group such as “How many plates of free nachos are we entitled to?” and “I can confirm I have the Nag Champa and the champagne Mr. Gnash,” etc.

I interject with my first, and as it would turn out, my only question of the evening, “So, Gnash, what were you doing prior to arriving tonight? I guess what I mean to say is … What does Steve Gnash do when nobody is looking?”

“There’s always someone looking at Gnash,” his manager Hollywood Jones quips.

Steve Gnash and Manager Hollywood Jones – Photo Credit: Prewitt Scott-Jackson

After a chasmic pause Gnash finally speaks, modestly answering “Reading someone’s cards.”

“Like Tarot cards?”

“Yes.”

“Whose cards would that be?”  

“The psychic at the gas station off 1900 block on Hemphill St.”

A halo of sunflower sunrays I tell ya, a halo of sunflower sunrays!

The entourage shifts towards the green room located backstage at ‘The Oak.’ I try to nudge my way in but Hollywood Jones puts a kibosh on that. Despite Jones restricting my green room access, Gnash offers me a pity pull from his champagne bottle. Would you pass on a pull of the philosopher’s stone? I think not.

Green Room Access Denied – Photo Credit: Prewitt Scott-Jackson

Being turned away, I head outside. A healthy portion of the backing band congregates on the loading dock, this includes lead bass guitarist (Tha) Mista Deezy. Mista Deezy specializes in having fun and serves as the most talented musician of the backing band. Besides providing lead bass, Tha Deezy doubles as lead backup vocalist.

Deezy refused my interview, but not in an “I’m the best musician here” kind of way, ‘twas more of an “I can’t disrupt my pre-game mojo but I hope you understand” kind of way.

Tha Mista Deezy (pictured right ) Pre-Gaming Prior to The Show – Photo Credit: Prewitt Scott-Jackson

Back in the main auditorium the audience sits inauspiciously waiting for something their minds are incapable of conceiving. I scan their brain pans with my deft telepathic skills to hear a collective “Just another wispy Fort Worth singer-songwriter.”

The band’s sheer show of force strikes down this ridiculous notion with a masterful opening performance of the hit single “Sprung;” a track that has since been world premiered by 96.7 FM on the Local Ticket Show w/ Mark.  

The Steve Gnash Experience in Full Swing – Photo Credit: Prewitt Scott-Jackson

From there, the band dives into “Coughdrops,” a track I have heard before thanks to my advanced copy of the record. “Coughdrops” incites the audience to MOVE. And MOVE they did!

Mista Deezy Feelin’ the “Coughdrops” – Photo Credit: Prewitt Scott-Jackson

The remainder of the set sways seamlessly from song to song with nary an interruption aside from a moment of exuberant prayer in dedication to Pop goddess Britney Spears.

Gnash Praying at The Alter of Britney – Photo Credit: Prewitt Scott-Jackson

The besiegement of sexy sound lingered, fluttering about the Live Oak’s microsphere for minutes upon the set’s conclusion. Nobody speaks. The audience, they sit in silent stupefaction as time ticks by until finally an uproarious applause ignites nearly burning down the red velvet stage curtains that have since been shuttered.

As I left the venue, the same dazed expression as before falls upon my face only this time the daze consists of wonderment and achievement not that of nerves and anxiety.

For once in my life, the planet of Me has a star. Whether I’ll ultimately catalogue as an insignificant dwarf ice planet or a gas giant such as Jupiter, being tethered to Steve Gnash’s sun gives me a boundless sense of purpose because either way I am now embedded in his orbit.

Well, until my Uber ride back home arrives anyway.

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about the word writer person:

Prewitt Scott-Jackson writes Dad poetry & short fiction when he's not hyping and typing for Fort Worth Noise. His writing can be found in Ghost City Press (New York), Five 2 One Magazine (Los Angeles), Prairie Schooner (University of Nebraska Press) and Sick Lit Magazine (Texas), among others. He prefers short walks on the beach because – and I quote – “It’s really hard to walk on sand.”