BRAZEN IN ORLANDO, PART 1 (2004-07): DODGER AND FRIENDS

This summer marks the 15th anniversary of my initial move from the wilds of New Jersey and New York City to the wilds of central Florida and Orlando. It is truly amazing how fast those 15 years have gone by. My years in the city of Orlando have amounted to one of the most incredible, surreal and creatively productive times of my whole life, and the love, respect and support the City Beautiful has shown me and my various endeavors has been truly unparalleled. Indeed, it is only now that I feel I can finally reveal this secret to all of you: my affair with Orlando officially began with a very bad night and on a very, very sour note.

I had been relying on the Orlando Sentinel for musical information on this new city I had suddenly been forced to turn to for cultural sustenance. This had already resulted in my going down a list they'd provided of 100 local bands and links to each band's music. To my ears, most of them had completely sucked, and most of the few I thought were halfway decent had all either disbanded or skipped town already. So I was rightfully skeptical when they told me a "surf band" (who aren't even worth naming here and are surely long defunct anyway) was playing downtown, at a bar called Waitiki on a tiny little block ever so cheekily named Wall Street. But hell, I'd already been here almost three goddamn months by then, and I knew it was time to start getting out and seeing if I could find something good that way.

I sure didn't find it that night. For Wall Street, and downtown, were just horrible to experience for the first time, especially alone and new in town, and this was the absolute worst surf band I've ever heard in my life. They were completely drunk and made sure to announce that fact several times in between butchering every surf classic you could name from "Wipe Out" to "Surfin' Safari." Not that it mattered too much, for the room was wall-to-wall yuppie types who (albeit quite rightfully) completely ignored this truly awful band until they played out their very limited repertoire of surf tunes... and then suddenly morphed into a fucking Green Day cover band right before my eyes. I drove home in an angry haze, wanting to die, muttering that if this Orlando was going to be my city now, then just fucking shoot me now and get it over with.

That was in mid-September 2004. The three months previous had been just dismal for me and the couple of months following would be even worse. No friends, no clue how the fuck to get around Orlando, nothing. Just me and four enclosed walls. By Thanksgiving I was suicidal. The only thing that saved my life and my Christmas was a quick retreat back to my homeland, where I spent two weeks celebrating with the friends I'd left behind that summer.

It's a damn good thing I chose to stay alive and keep searching for something worthy in this town. Because somewhere in between that horrid first night out and that trip back up north, I'd stumbled across an entry in a music blog. I don't remember its name, who managed it, or even how I found it. What I DO remember is that the writer was raving about a band he'd discovered called Dodger... who just so happened to be based right in Orlando. His description of the band was interesting enough for me to download the mp3s the blog provided. I didn't expect much going in, such was my still-existing prejudice against local bands. But lo and behold, at last here was a very good one, with music quirky and catchy enough to earn a spot on my playlist. And besides Dodger being a good band, well, in them I had finally found a worthy lead to follow. And so I made a vow that I would track them down and try to meet them.

I didn't quite know it yet... but I had just discovered the band, and was about to meet the people, who would completely change my entire view of the Sunshine State forever and ever.

I finally saw my chance to pursue Dodger just after Christmas '04 in the form of the 110 Hours Marathon, on WPRK at Rollins College in Winter Park, my new state's one-up challenge to my old state's WFMU and its 100 Hours Marathon a few years earlier. It had been postponed from September because of a hurricane (the first one I'd see in Florida!), and rescheduled to the third week in January '05. That was the week when Dave Plotkin successfully beat out Glen Jones for the longest radio show by ten full hours... and when I heard that Dodger was playing live twice during this show AND that the station was looking for volunteers, I knew I had to be there. In fact, I made it over to WPRK on the first day of the marathon well before the Dodger boys did and even in the hours before their arrival, I immediately sensed a vibe that something was happening here, something different and bohemian and eccentric that reminded me a bit of back home (not to mention the fact that WPRK's studio still reminds me to this day of WFMU's old digs in the student center of Upsala College).

I was put in charge of being Dave's timekeeper, which meant making sure certain aspects of his on-mic segments stayed within the limits of time and space dictated by the Guinness Book's rules. Along the way I managed to strike up conversation with him and we discovered quite a bit of common ground. And when I admitted I volunteered specifically because I wanted to see Dodger, who not only happened to be Mr. Plotkin's favorite local band but had even recorded a special theme song for the marathon, we were an instant fan club. At last they arrived and set up shop in the band room. I was both giddy and nervous, knowing full well the moment of truth was here at last. I watched them play from a distance through the band room glass, and was not the least bit disappointed... in fact they were even better live than I'd hoped they'd be. Then, as they were breaking down and loading out their gear, I clutched the CD I'd brought with me of my "Racing Brain" album and approached the band's guitarist and lead singer, Matt Kamm. He was very appreciative of my interest in their music, and agreed to take a listen to mine. It was a very brief encounter, but in that short moment, I sensed it immediately, just as I'd sensed it from Dave -- these men were very important players in town. And they knew just what I needed to learn if I was to start appreciating Orlando.

When I returned to WPRK's studios on the final night of Dave's marathon to see Dodger play again, I arrived just in time to witness the record-breaking milestone of his 110th hour on the air. Of course, this meant the place was packed and I was lost in a sea of folks I still didn't know yet, but Matt managed to find me in the crowd and immediately launched into a rave review of my CD upon finding me, even naming specific songs he liked. "I've been playing it all week long, man, I'm blown away!" he exclaimed, and I sensed his enthusiasm was very real. I thought, hmmm, these guys could become my new friends!

Not long after, I now confess, I successfully sneaked past WPRK's security guards and broke into the band room to snag a front-row spot for Dodger's second set -- the marathon's big grand finale. Matt and the boys let me stay, and at last I experienced their sound up close and personal. In this set they played a song called "Find Another Way." This number flat-out hit me right between the eyes, a powerful tune with a stirring climax and a lyrical message my mind took as a sign that I should do just that as far as Orlando was concerned. And so, after a week which also saw me meeting other cool locals like Sean Moore (another Dodger member and a fine act in his own right) and the ever-so-British expatriate Syd Zed, I finally began to see some balance in my view of O-Town. The things I'd seen that week were of significant substance and had opened my eyes ever so suddenly to its underlying possibilities, the ones the Sentinel never told me about.

But as crazy and eye-opening as the 110 Hours thing and all that came with it was to witness, it still didn't fully prepare me for the night I finally got to see a proper Dodger live show one month later. On the night of February 26, 2005, at the now sadly-defunct Peacock Room, my world truly changed forever. This was the night of my Orlando epiphany, that moment of clarity which split the dark sky open and let the Florida sunshine into my world. On that night, Dodger gave one of the most brutal, most intense, most super-high-energy, and most musically devastating live performances I have ever seen in my life. Ever.

Matt Kamm was so intense on that stage I actually took to worrying about him, as I watched him taking flying leaps off the amps, rolling around on the ground, stagediving, whirling around the room, losing his glasses in the process but thankfully, miraculously cracking neither his specs nor any bones. And the band bled every note, raging through the music with fury and passion, charging through great songs which showed wisdom both musical and lyrical well beyond their preciously young years. The room was on fire and the crowd was just as unhinged as the band. It was pure magic to experience and I knew this was it -- this was exactly what I'd been hoping to find ever since I'd left New Jersey.

Somehow I wound up staying at the Peacock Room 'til closing time hanging out with the guys in Dodger, who were all so incredibly cordial and wonderful. I was quick (and relieved) to notice that the place was located on the outskirts of that still-dreaded downtown area, in a part of town known as Mills 50 (so named after the nearby intersection of North Mills Avenue and Colonial Drive a.k.a. State Road 50) that felt far more laid-back and welcoming. And then Matt invited me to an afterparty in one of the nearby houses in that quieter stretch. And that's where I walked into one of the craziest, freakiest, wildest little scenes I'd ever stumbled upon, filled with many attendees who I recalled seeing in the crowd at the show. It was like so many trippy little parties I've been to over the years back in NYC, but the fact that this was Florida and not New York made this party seem all the more surreal somehow. All I know is that it took at least two days for me to fully recover from the sheer impact of it all. And when I found myself back on earth, I realized I'd seen the future.

It was at this party where I first became aware of the Funbalaya Collective, a network of local artists, musicians and eccentric people the members of Dodger belonged to, which provided me with a new and considerably better list than the Sentinel's to investigate -- Yip-Yip, Ocean Floor, What's Yr Damage, Band of the Name, and Unicornicopia, to name just a few. Though this conglomerate didn't stay together very long, they made a significant impression on me nonetheless. I went on to see most of these bands live over the course of going out in Orlando nearly every weekend for the next several weeks following that big night at the Peacock Room. I still recall winning a lovely little dance contest (and a free t-shirt) at a Yip-Yip show (Orlando's foremost electronic duo!) in only my second or third weekend out, and getting my very first formal Florida party invitation from Mr. 110 Hours himself Dave Plotkin, a rooftop affair where I met the late, great Billy Manes, the amazing writer and gay rights activist who was at the time running for mayor amidst a total-bullshit election fraud scandal involving longtime Orlando mayor Buddy Dyer. And I made sure to attend every Dodger show I could during that time as well, getting to know them a little more each time.

I do admit I still felt a bit uneasy at times wondering if I was worthy of this young new crowd in this new city. But everyone seemed to accept me and no one ever turned me away from any scene I randomly wandered into, and it all left me with a much sweeter taste in my mouth than before. The respect would prove sincere and lasting as I've kept in touch with some of the wondrous people who introduced me to the wonders of Orlando to this very day. They saved me from a fate worse than death, and that is the absolute truth.

So of course, you would think I was completely sold on central Florida for all time at that point and there was just no turning around and going back up ol' I-95 ever again. I'd love to say that was the case. But that's not quite how it all happened. There was still a bit too much NYC & Jersey left in me at that point for me to make Orlando a permanent commitment yet. As such, I would go on to make two additional month-long journeys back to my homeland before finally settling into a year-and-a-half-long spell of rooming with my second cousin back in the very same house I grew up in.

Oh, but while the north may have won that round, I would soon discover that Orlando had already changed my ways. New habits quickly took over my everyday routine, like reading Orlando Weekly's online edition religiously and playing CDs I'd acquired by Orlando bands continuously and very loudly both in my car and in my room. And if I heard a good Orlando band was making a tour stopover in NYC, I would go see them play (I still remember surprising the boys in Yip-Yip on at least two occasions). Now and then I wrote to Matt Kamm and the guys in Dodger, and each reply made me miss them more and more. When I returned to Orlando for Christmas '06 midway through my spell back in NJ, I made a beeline for them. They and Unicornicopia leader turned future Baby DJ School creator Natalie Weiss (who had moved to NYC herself and I had also seen perform up there) put on quite a live show for me, after which they all invited me to Matt's place for a little holiday afterparty where I was showered with Dodger souvenirs. We hung out a second time just before I set sail northward again, and this time I ended up saying goodbye to O-Town with tears in my eyes, because suddenly it actually hurt to think I wouldn't be seeing the place again for awhile.

Or... would I? On Memorial Day weekend of '07, Dodger and friends came all the way up to NYC and wound up at the fucking Knitting Factory of all venues, completely decimating the place in one of the best shows I ever saw them play. Two nights later, I had an invite from them and an invite from some of my longtime NYC friends. I made plans to honor both, starting with the first. I never even made it to the second as I ended up hanging out with Dodger till well past 3 AM. The writing was clearly on the wall by that point, and when my cousin and I finally got tossed out of our old house just weeks later, I knew Orlando had won the final round by a knockout. "Oh, it's not so bad," I told myself as I made the long drive back. "At least there's Dodger!"

Well, no sooner had I settled in than I got the word that Dodger had broken up amidst personal tensions which had sprung up during their tour. The band that had taught me how to love Orlando was now suddenly dead, and I was livid, feeling betrayed. I even wrote an angry letter to the band protesting their breakup. It was a very stupid and senseless letter, and all these years later I wish to sincerely apologize to all ex-Dodger members reading this blog for writing it. What could I say, I was mad. But lo and behold, Matt Kamm very quickly reinvented himself as a man of many different variations on the name of Tele, and took his music in not one, but multiple new directions. And it was all even better than Dodger, and more than enough to win my forgiveness in the end.

For in the end, after all... Dodger was just the beginning.

TO BE CONTINUED...

(Here is an awesome Youtube playlist comprised of Dodger's never officially released album "Popullution" plus the first and third post-Dodger albums of Matt "Tele" Kamm, rounded out by several tracks from fellow Funbalaya acts The Ocean Floor and Timbers Shivered. Also available for streaming is this album of recently discovered Dodger material. All of it is essential listening. Oh, and here's a nice little song I wrote about the night at the Peacock Room when Dodger changed my world... and last but definitely not least, the full gallery of photos I took of Dodger that night!)

THUNDERING LIZARDS, 1991-96

I first met Scott Prato in the spring of 1990, in the first weeks of my initial move from New Jersey to NYC. Some friends of mine were hosting an open mic event in the space next to CBGB and tapped me to judge the event, with the grand prize of a spot on a cable access TV show (which never actually made it past the pre-planning stage) going to the performer I thought was best. This young dude with dark curly hair, glasses and a beard came up and performed quirky folk songs with a Syd Barrett influence and outrageous titles like "I'm Not A Fucking Salamander, I'm A Man" and "There's An Elephant in My Soup But He Doesn't Care Cuz I Put Him There." That was Scott, and needless to say, he won my vote. Talking after the show, we became fast friends and vowed to keep in touch, and I played his first demo tape on a few late-night WFMU fill-in shows I was doing at the time, a favor for which he was quick and generous with his gratitude. We also became friends with another young eccentric antifolkie by the name of Jason Trachtenburg (who at the time hadn't even started the actual Trachtenburg Family yet, let alone the Slideshow Players) and the three of us began to do some jamming together.

Several months later, Scott came to the Cobble Hill section of Brooklyn to record his second demo "Head First" in a studio just a few blocks from where I was living at the time. The studio was actually an apartment set-up and the engineer had the unique idea of using VHS videotape to record everything. Impressed with my guitar skills, Scott invited me to the sessions to lay down a solo on a song called "Sure You Do," which was to be the demo's big climax. Unfortunately, one of the female vocalists Scott had also asked to contribute to this demo tape took exception to the song's allegedly misogynist lyric, interpreted by one Evil Jim Friendly, and thus refused to appear on the tape unless the song was dropped. So "Sure You Do" never was released, but nonetheless the seed was officially planted for a future collaboration between me and Scott. And what a crazy union it would turn out to be.

In the summer of '91 I gave Scott a tape of some of my 4-track recordings, and he absolutely went wild over it, calling me up not long after to inform me he was listening to it on repeat. With a mutual admiration for each other's music now in effect, he asked if I would help him record his next tape. I agreed, and the next thing I knew I was bringing my 4-track over to his apartment for a wild Saturday session in his bedroom, with friends including myself and Jason contributing to the music. This was to become Scott's next demo, until he heard the results and decided his new songs needed something more... like a full, actual band. His first two tapes had been generally stripped-down acoustic affairs with just a bit of electric guitar and percussion here and there, but now it was time to rock.

I was asked to play bass in this new band, and told to show up at a practice session he'd booked at the famous (and now defunct) Coyote Studios on the Williamsburg, Brooklyn waterfront. I arrived to find Scott waiting for me with a familiar figure in tow -- drummer Michael J. Zwicky. I'd been a fan of his free jazz-punk trio Demo Moe ever since I first encountered them back in '87 on my very first visit to ABC No Rio, so I was thrilled to get to work with him. The chemistry between the three of us proved so immediate that we were in Fly Ashtray's Toxic Shock studio on lower Broadway just a few weeks later recording "Magistrates on Pontilions," a tape I'm still proud of all our performances on. We played our first live shows around the same time, and thus officially began the Thundering Lizards of Love, the name eventually shortened to just Thundering Lizards. By now it was late September '91 and Evil Jim Friendly had joined the band as second vocalist, and soon EJ and Scott were my new roommates as well. Here's one of my favorite songs from the tape, with the amazing (if I do say so myself) rhythm section of myself and Zwicky, and very special guest keyboardist Jason Trachtenburg...

Early on, Scott had a penchant for being a bit unhinged onstage, and quite reckless with his equipment. The first time he and I played out together was at a rooftop party on the lower east side, and before we went on I had to talk him out of his plans to end our set by throwing his Danelectro guitar off the roof! "You'd better hope that thing hits solid ground and not someone's head or you're in BIG trouble!" I told him, then kept a close eye on him during our last song to make sure he got the message. Weeks later, at ABC No Rio (a show from which the shot below is taken -- I so wish I still had that X-Ray Spex t-shirt!), he took that same guitar and slammed it on the floor, which splintered the back of the fretboard to the point where he thought he'd broken it. I took the guitar and inspected it while he wasn't around a few days later, determined that it was still totally playable despite the minor neck injury, then gave it back to Scott claiming I had miraculously "fixed" it... when in truth I hadn't done a damn thing to it!

Eventually, in the spring of '92, three songs from the "Magistrates" tape were pressed to vinyl as our first of two singles (which you can hear in its entirety below!), and the leadoff track, "Do You Wanna (Get Some Marijuana)," became the Lizards' anthem. The artwork for the picture sleeve was done by our resident artist, Karl "KL" Lorenzen, a truly trippy fellow and a heck of a nice guy who also contributed his poetry and percussion to some of our tracks. We somehow managed to get the EP promoted in High Times magazine, thinking this would lead to a flurry of orders. Naturally, that never happened, but by that time we'd already built up a nice local following, packing places like the Spiral on Houston St. and the Ship's Mast in Williamsburg for some sizzling live shows featuring Evil Jim's occasional cross-dressing and my thrashing on the floor in fake seizures. And this first incarnation of the Lizards was short-lived, as this bunch of highly temperamental personalities was bound to clash on more than one occasion. I finally left for the first time in September of '92, serving Scott my resignation in the midst of Wigstock in Tompkins Square Park that Labor Day and citing my ever increasing tensions with Michael and Evil Jim as reasons.

Scott promptly replaced me with another bassist, Tom Gabel, and added the world's first and foremost punk rock accordion player, Malcolm Tent, and the Lizards soldiered on. Of course, I had no intention of rejoining, but within the space of just six months, both Michael and Tom were out of the band and Scott was begging me to come back. He finally got me to return in the spring of '93 with the promise of a tour of the midwest. But with Zwicky gone, we now had to find a new drummer. Malcolm tried to help out by bringing in the guy who had played drums on his recent tape "Angst For The Memories" (a truly unsung '90s tape-culture classic) for an audition, which he passed with flying colors. We voted unanimously to hire him and figured we were set. Then this drummer completely disappeared from our radar.

At this point, the saga of the Thundering Lizards becomes almost like a real-life Spinal Tap story. With no other drummers seemingly available or willing to go on tour with us, we finally had to settle for the late, great Billy Syndrome to fill the void. Now, Billy was a great musician in many regards, but his drumming (which he did eventually get good at) was very much a work in progress at that time!  To make matters worse, the reason Scott had put together this midwest tour in the first place was the colossal mistake he had just made of signing a one-shot deal with a subsidiary of Celluloid Records to put out a CD that was to be delivered just in time for the tour. This same label had tried to court another band who were very good friends of mine, only to have none other than Iggy Pop warn them against signing. If only if had been Scott who'd had that random encounter with Mr. Street Walkin' Cheetah.

Anyway, somewhere along the way, the master tape for the Lizards' Celluloid album either got lost or ruined, and it became quickly obvious the CD would not be ready for the tour. Desperate to have new product to sell on the tour come hell or high water, we rushed back into the studio with less than a month to go before departure time to make what I still regard to this day as one of the very worst records ever made -- our second single, "Looking For A Dolphin." This 45 was given a merciless review completely worthy of its sheer awfulness in a local music rag called Splatter Effect, and I hate to admit I agreed with every word of it. If you really want to hear how bad it is, you can buy it on Discogs (though even at three bucks it's way overpriced), because I sure as fuck ain't gonna stream it here! Perhaps it's fitting, though, that this record was a trainwreck, because the Lizards' Midwest Tour -- ten days in Michigan, Wisconsin, Indiana and Ohio in November '93 -- followed suit accordingly.

Scott booked eight shows through contacts he'd found in some issue of Maximum Rock & Roll, and half of them got canceled while we were on the road. In Michigan, we were hosted by the "Flint Hemp Society" and still managed to clear the room in spite of our appropriate lyrical content (though, to be fair, our hosts were very nice people who graciously put up with us for two whole days afterward while we awaited a second gig in Detroit that, you guessed it, never happened). In Milwaukee, we actually had legendary psych-punks Plasticland open for us (great band, but what on earth???) and of course blow us off the stage, though someone actually bought the "Dolphin" single afterward and even made us autograph it -- don't ask me why. And in Indianapolis, when we contacted the promoters who had booked us to let them know we were in town, we found out we'd accidentally been put on a straight-edge hardcore show, only to have the other bands take offense to our weed-friendly lyrics and promptly boot us off the bill!

The mere thought of Indianapolis will also forever remind me of the absolute most vicious, brutal band argument I've ever witnessed in my entire life, between Scott and Malcolm. It began as some simple blowing off of some of the steam which had built up out of our not having any space apart from one another for an entire week, and could very well have ended quickly enough with the other three of us insisting they both just shut up and have another beer or two. But before we could suggest that, Malcolm decided it was a most opportune time to make a very unpleasant remark about Scott's wife. Oh my dear lord Jesus. I thank my lucky stars there was no gun in that van, because if there had been, one of us would have been dead and the rest of us would have spent the rest of the tour in jail in Indiana. It took all of our best efforts to curb our respective tempers long enough to play the last two dates, incurring the wrath of more straight-edgers in Muncie before finishing up at a pizza restaurant in Columbus, Ohio to an audience of the sound guy, the bartender, the promoter and the lame cock-rock hair metal band he'd billed us with.

(Even after all I've described here, though, I would be lying if I said the Lizards didn't have any fun at all on the road. We had a great time making friends and exploring the city of Flint with our aforementioned hosts there, I had fun driving everyone crazy filming a never-released "tour documentary" with my super-8 video camera, and two songs were directly inspired by the whole tour experience: I wrote one called "State Line In The Sky" (which you can hear on my Bandcamp site) that deals with some of the lighter, more tourist-like aspects of the trip, and Malcolm wrote "Midwest Tour" which took a humorous view of the darker side of it all. So there's that.)

After the tour, Scott fired Malcolm and Billy and hired some NYU student named Kirk to finally restore some order to the rhythm section. He played three more disastrous local shows with us before I finally quit the band for good, though not before playing on a few more 4-track demos which wound up as secret bonus tracks on the Celluloid disc. "Width of an Octopus" (recorded mostly during my six-month absence from the Lizards and much better than the "Dolphin" single for sure) did finally come out in the spring of '94 and the label promptly threw all its promotional energy behind an all-girl punk band called Gloo Girls while giving us the royal shaft. I still recall my frustration when I discovered that Tower Records on 4th and Broadway had tons of Gloo Girls CDs and not a single copy of ours. I guess we just weren't cute enough.

Scott kept reinventing the Lizards in various forms, first as a sort of Fugs-type beat thing with KL and Jim Fourniadis before expanding into a sort of stoner Zappa/Mothers-esque unit with up to seven or eight members. This lineup recorded the final Lizards release in late '95, "Eyeball Sandwich" (partially produced by Kramer and their most psychedelic album for sure), and took a second trip to the midwest which according to Scott was much better than the first one. Meanwhile, Malcolm and I had stayed in touch following our parting of ways with the Lizards, and at the end of '94 he tagged me to help him form his next project, Thai Raid. Thus began a whole new wild 3-year ride for me which included at least one "hit" record (our EP made #1 on Bill Kelly's Teenage Wasteland on WFMU two weeks in a row) and a lot of crazy times at the Right Bank on the Williamsburg waterfront.

The Lizards finally called it quits in '96, and when I left Thai Raid in '97, Malcolm brought in none other than Scott to replace me, which in light of the blowout in Indianapolis was a heartwarming and humbling thing to see indeed. Scott also joined up with Billy and Evil Jim in their space-rock project The JFK Jr. Royal Airforce for several albums before moving onto the Brian Wilson Shock Treatment, as well as World of Tomorrow and Big Plastic Finger with his wife Bonnie Kane, herself an occasional Lizard who'd lent her saxophone stylings to a few of the band's recordings.

In light of all the recent tragedies documented here on the Brazenblog, I'm happy to report that except for Billy Syndrome, all the ex-Lizards are still of this earth -- but not a single one still lives in NYC. Malcolm is now in Atlantic City and still going strong well into his sixties, Michael J. is in Appleton, WI and playing drums for a fine new band called Sharp Left Turn, I'm in Orlando and part of a great underground music scene there, and Evil Jim, well, he's in Jacksonville just three hours away from me! Scott and Bonnie now live in Holyoke, Massachusetts running their online vintage vinyl shop Starry Night Records. And wouldn't you know it, just a few weeks back, Bonnie came out to Florida to play some shows in conjunction with the International Noise Conference and she and I got to hang out together for the first time in well over a decade! If only Scott had come along for the ride...

WEST COAST 1988: A SPECIAL NEW RELEASE FROM RAY BRAZEN!

Many years ago I took a trip out to the west coast. It was a whole lot of fun. During the trip I made the discovery of a Mexican rock band called Los Dug Dug's who would change my world forever. But that part of the story has been told many times. The rest of the story has never been fully told... until now.

Thanks to the support and encouragement of the very dedicated Brazen fan and supporter Matthew Moyer, who went crazy over a tape of recordings from the trip which once belonged to our dear, departed mutual friend William Berger, I am finally telling the full, untold story of that trip. And with that in mind, Matthew and I are proud to announce the official release of WEST COAST 1988 on Popnihil. Admittedly it's a bit of a departure from the label's usual electronic and experimental music fare (much of which is really quite good -- I suggest anyone into that sort of thing check out my new labelmates Jackie Ransom, Fjshwjfe and Von Nacht sometime), but it's nice to be the one chosen to break the mold, so to speak!

WEST COAST 1988 is now available in both cassette and digital forms. The cassette comes with a 16-page booklet which tells the story of the trip and the project in Brazenblog form, and the download includes the booklet in handy PDF form. This project took Matthew and I nearly a year to complete and get out there, and I think you will find it was well worth our time... and yours.

CLICK HERE to go to the official order/stream page. And stay tuned, folks... I know the Brazenblog has been silent lately, but it won't be for much longer, as multiple new entries are already in the works. Coming soon: The Thundering Lizards Story!!!