Crank up the volume and feast your ears on a musical smorgasbord that definitely requires a full concert hall. The native Sacramento band MC Rut combines the talents of singer and guitarist Zack Lopez with drummer and backup vocalist Sean Stockham. Lopez’s angsty lyrics explode on a canvas of poignant guitar riffs, for a full sound that is raw and edgy. MC Rut doesn’t tiptoe into their songs—they give it all they’ve got, musically and lyrically.

Submerge catches up with MC Rut in the interim before they hop a plane to London—an interview that appropriately takes place at the Streets of London bar.

Can you tell me a little about the projects you’re working on now—the new album and the upcoming tour?
Sean Stockham: We’re always playing and writing music whether it’s an album we’re writing for or not. We do what we do. We get together five or more days a week and play music for as many hours as we can. Right now we’re getting ready to go to London in November. Obviously we’re really excited about that

Have you guys ever been to London before?
SS: This is the first time. It’s definitely something we’ve dreamt about doing since we started playing music. At some point we had stopped dreaming about it, and it didn’t even seem realistic.
Zack Lopez: Now it’s reality.

When do you think the new album will be realized?
ZL: We don’t even know really what the new album is. We’ve never written a song for a specific project.
SS: Out of what we have now we could probably put together maybe four to seven projects.

Why did you make the decision to release EPs instead of a full album?
ZL: They are full albums essentially. We’re just scared of the word “album.” Once you commit to saying “album,” that’s your first album.
SS: It’s just like not committing to marriage… There’s something very scary about marriage and there’s something very scary about a full-length record.

So people have described your lyrics as being kind of aggressive. Did you write these songs during a dark period, or are your lyrics pretty consistent?
ZL: It wasn’t a dark period; it was just a normal life period. You don’t necessarily have to be depressed, you know? Most people aren’t happy with their lives as it is and I think that’s a big part of this band.

Your songs express a general dissatisfaction about middle class life. Would you say you have a fear of the 9-to-5 lifestyle?
SS: It’s different than like the fear of death, because none of us have actually experienced death… The 9-to-5 thing is something that’s always right there.
ZL: I feel like some people are down with what they do and that’s great. It’s all about being happy with where you’re at. When you come to the point where you’re struggling to be somewhere that you don’t even want to be in the first place, that’s when you’re bummed.

Do you think that’s an artist thing?
SS: I don’t want to say that. You can say that, but yeah, that’s probably exactly what it is.
ZL: We expect a lot from ourselves. And if we don’t get it, then we’re miserable, and we keep chasing it till we get it.

You guys have high expectations, then?
ZL: From the first time we played music, we expected everything… But at least we’re on the road to hopefully getting there. We’d rather be trying to get somewhere than never try and never be anywhere.

How do you think living in Sacramento affected your lyrics, or did it?
ZL: It definitely didn’t. It was more living in L.A., living on a failed dream that affected our lyrics.

In one of your songs, the song “I Don’t Really Know,” you write, “We’re never going anywhere, just circling around.” Do you still feel that way at times even today, even though it seems like your band is really taking off now?
SS: I think everyone feels like that, generally stated. For us in the band, its such an exciting time right now it would be really hard to not feel like shit was improving at least.
ZL: You’ve got to understand, five minutes of your life where you could feel so strongly about something you could write 10 songs, and you have to express what you felt at that point. It doesn’t necessarily express how you feel all the time…it represents who you are at that point. And we’re really good at writing songs about moments.

So if you wrote a song about right now would it have a more positive spin on it?
ZL: It would sound like 311. And we’d be bummed on it.

How has your music evolved between the last songs you released and the new songs you’re working on now?
ZL: The vibe is the same, but we feel like we’re better songwriters. If we don’t consistently keep writing better songs, we feel like we’re not doing our job. Every time we’re writing something, the only reason we ever move on something is because it’s better than what we’ve already done. If its not, it gets left behind, and that’s where it deserves to be.
SS: At the same time, if what we’re doing now doesn’t at least have something in common with what we’ve done before, then it’s not even us.

Post from: Submerge Magazine

There seems to be an inherent marriage between the creation of art and the enforced destruction thereof by the powers that be. I mean, even John Lennon had an FBI file. So when local aerosol artist Paydirt7 first began his journey into the street-savvy world of writing on freight trains and buildings, he most likely had little inkling that he’d be targeted for the illegality of his work, despite its obvious radiance. But just as quickly, Paydirt7 hit…well, you know…and even has a commissioned piece hanging at City Hall. His work reflects both the vibrant urban decay of society and also the imaginary cartoon worlds of comics; but both breathe deeply with zeal, and there’s an irregular neo-tech tenderness to his work that separates the oil from the vinegar. Paydirt7 took some time out to chat with Submerge about his beginnings, his middles and why Beat Street changed his life.

I understand that when you started out, you encountered a bit of trouble due to spray painting on the sides of freight trains. Can you explain a little bit about that era of your foray into art?
Painting freight trains is an evolution of graffiti from the subways of New York. Instead of a train running just in one city, they roll across the country. To me, a piece on a train takes on a life of its own.

What made you gravitate toward aerosol as your preferred method of creating your art?
Before I had even touched a can of Krylon, I was drawing comic book heroes and doing watercolors—you know, that first set of watercolors they give to kids. I’d sit around for hours painting dinosaurs, drinking red Kool-Aid and eating saltine crackers. My first exposure to hip-hop was watching Beat Street as a kid. I think it was around ‘85 or ’86, and it was playing on the VCR at a childhood birthday party. Back then it was more about break dancing, and I remember hanging out in front of the supermarket trying to spin on my back on a flattened cardboard box. I think shortly after that we upgraded to a sheet of linoleum. That feeling of fun and creativity is what attracted me to hip-hop style graffiti. I started using an airbrush but got annoyed changing out all the cups of paint and being tethered to an air compressor. When painting murals 20 feet by 20 feet, it’s much quicker with spray paint. I can blast large areas of color with a fat cap and climb to the top of ladders with a papoose full of spray cans. I just like the mobility it provides. Also there is a sense of adventure and interaction with your environment painting outdoors with aerosol.

Your work reflects a lot of different influences, from comics to urban street art to pop culture; do you enjoy working outside of a presumed theme for your pieces?
There are so many styles and subject matters to explore. Some times I feel like Bob Ross, other times I feel like painting ridiculously exaggerated cartoon characters and graffiti letters. No matter what it is, I think my underlying technique and touch shows through.

What did it mean to you to be commissioned for a piece at City Hall after having so many speed bumps with legal issues?
I grew up in Sacramento and it’s a pretty small community, so it’s kind of hard to hide from the po-po. I started writing in ‘93 and shortly after that began receiving commissions by local businesses. I always wanted to go to art school but did not have the rich parents to pay for it. Also, I was already making a decent living painting murals so why go into debt paying back student loans? When I turned 18, I began teaching computer graphics and mural painting classes to kids in the day, and at night I would be painting freights in the yard. Shit was nice for a while, but when five cop cars show up at your house with a search warrant and you find the FBI has been watching you for the last year, things change. So I guess starting in the street and ending up with a painting in City Hall is a great irony.

What piece of yours are you most proud of?
Top of the list would be when I went to Europe and painted passenger trains in Switzerland. Watching the train I painted five hours ago roll in to the station bustling with people had me jumping out of my sneakers. I imagine it’s the closest I’ll ever come to experiencing what the original writers in New York must have felt when they saw their pieces running on the subway.

About how many pieces do you create in any given year? How prolific of an artist are you?
Now days I’ve been doing lots of commercial work and it’s hard to find time to paint just for me. I tried for a long time to do two to three paintings for every commissioned piece, but when your hobby becomes your career, you need to find some time to walk the dog. I have some real radical pieces that I’m working on right now—a 12-foot by 8-foot canvas that’s going to disturb some people. Also, I’m becoming more involved in animation and making video of graffiti inspired letter structures that bounce and pulse to music.

To whom or what do you owe your dedication to perfecting and progressing your craft?
My father was born in Hawaii and learned to carve traditional style tikis from a native Hawaiian. So having 5-foot-tall, meticulously detailed sculptures around the house while I was growing up showed me what could be achieved with patience and concentration.

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Lawrence Argent is a professor at the School of Art and Art History at the University of Denver. Though he has only paid one two-day visit to Sacramento, in 2011, he—and his long-eared accomplice—will leave an indelible mark on this city. And though Argent’s sculpture hasn’t even been built yet, it is already causing quite a stir with locals, and the reaction isn’t all that positive.

Argent is one of three selected from a group of over 100 artists to create public art works for the new Sacramento International Airport Terminal B. The airport renovation will cost $1.27 billion; $8 million has been set aside for art. Argent’s installation will serve as the centerpiece of the new terminal—a 56-foot red-orange rabbit leaping into a suitcase with a swirling vortex on top. His piece alone will cost $800,000—a figure that doesn’t sit too well with Sacramentans.

“$800,000 for a fiberglass red rabbit? Come on Sacramento we can do better than that!” wrote one perturbed citizen in response to an article about the sculpture on Sacbee.com. The commenter added, in reference to how a big red rabbit is supposed to represent Sacramento, “Ever see a red rabbit—[anywhere]?”

Others, however, have been more accepting. “Believe it or not [$800,000] for a giant, CUSTOM, red rabbit is pretty reasonable!” retorted another commenter to the same article.

The artist welcomes such debate, however. In fact, it’s the sort of thing he strives for. More than just decorating architecture, Argent wants his public art to inspire conversation and make an impression on those who look upon it.

“I understand the sense of negativity,” says Argent from his studio in Denver. “I think that’s part of the discussion about art; art doesn’t necessarily please everybody. I’m not here to please everybody. I’m just hopefully engaging people in a dialogue that can stimulate them in a different way than what they perhaps may have originally thought.”

Though the rabbit may seem like a lighthearted subject—and it is on some levels—the artist ensures that it is by no means a haphazard decision. The journey Argent took to his choice of subject in this particular piece is similar to his life’s journey. Born in England, Argent received a B.A. in sculpture from the Melbourne Institute of Technology in Australia. He later came stateside to receive an M.F.A. from Rinehart School of Sculpture, in Baltimore, Md. before finally settling in Denver.

“I came here to go to graduate school, and I wasn’t really planning on finishing,” Argent says. His plan was to attend graduate school for a year so that he could come to America “to have people I’d read about in books talk to me about my artwork,” and do so a lot more cheaply than it would have been to move here outright and “actually try to find those people.”

He adds, “Through many routes of possibilities, the journey made me end up here in Denver, Colo., which is actually a very nice city.”
Though he hasn’t spent much time in Sacramento (he’ll be making many more trips as his project progresses), he was instantly impressed with the California capitol.

“I think the energy was very positive there,” Argent says. “I see a change, perhaps, in what’s going on in the dialogue of downtown and the urban environment.”

Argent hopes his piece will contribute to and spur on more dialogue. In fact it already has. Though the big red rabbit element steals the headlines, Argent says the piece actually began with a more mundane idea—the suitcase. Suitcase imagery has appeared once before in Argent’s work. His sculpture Travel Companion—an “old suitcase with a rubber mold of a teddy bear, embedded in concrete and covered in polyester resin”—plays with the idea of travel and its effect on the self.

“I’m interested in our voyage, whether that be physical area that we move through in our life, or the spiritual domain that we walk through,” Argent explains “In that particular piece, it was a sense of possession that we have, that we have comfort in the suitcase, this archived version of something that didn’t quite make it, and that’s what that piece is about.”

Starting with the suitcase for the Sacramento Airport installation put Argent in a precarious position. He needed to connect it to something. He began by considering what goes through a traveler’s mind when he or she exits the plane and heads toward baggage claim.

“When we arrive at baggage claim, what we’ve come through to where we’ve been, that journey that we’ve been on is full of angst, it’s full of anxiety, it’s full of joy. We have all these elements that add up to an amazing component of [when] we start to feel whole again when if perhaps our luggage gets there, which is not always the case,” he says with a laugh. “But when it gets there, there’s this sense of reconciliation of joining yourself with yourself—joining with your stuff.”

In the end, it was the environment that surrounded the Sacramento Airport that helped lead Argent to his final design. He says that the “green space” outside the facility is unique in that “you can walk outside and you’re in a landscaped environment, and you have the possibility of breathing fresh air—or jet fuel, however you want to look at it,” he jokes. The airports surroundings coupled with the traveler’s anxiety and his/hers desire to deplane and reconnect with his/hers luggage as rapidly as possible pointed toward the image of the rabbit.

“It’s such an animal that I’ve had so much fascination with,” Argent says. “It’s held charge of a powerful symbolism through out civilization—that connection to fables and stories, past and contemporary mythology as well. In it, I sort of sensed a vehicle for an element of paradox that I was interested in.”

To those who are still critical of the piece, Argent hopes that they might change their minds once the installation is actually completed.

“How much can we judge something, by just an image, that’s not even in place yet?” he muses. “When you’ve got this thing leaping at you … when you’re on your way to baggage claim, you may get a different feeling… That’s a very different experience than what you’re seeing in a rendering.”

Argent is no stranger to public art projects. He gained notoriety for creating a three-story blue bear that peers into the Denver Convention Center. He is currently also working to create a Holocaust memorial for the University of Denver’s Center for Judaic Studies.

Post from: Submerge Magazine

Forget everything you know about extreme sports films. Professional snowboarder Travis Rice’s highly anticipated new movie, That’s It, That’s All, is finally out and the industry will never be the same. For two years, producers Rice and Curt Morgan scoured the globe in search of perfect conditions visiting New Zealand; Japan; Germany; Canada; Valdez, Alaska; Jackson Hole, Wyo.; and Mammoth, Calif. The fruits of their labor is a truly groundbreaking film.

Both the level of riding and the level of production are unprecedented. The film was shot entirely in high definition using a dozen different types of cameras including, for the first time in a snowboard film, the Wescam 35mm to catch steady shots from on-board a snowmobile and the Cineflex HD to capture steady aerial shots from a helicopter. The result is an awe-inspiring Planet Earth-meets-epic snowboarding film. Submerge recently caught up with Rice from his Jackson, Wyo. home to chat about the new film.

How have the premiers been going so far; you’ve had a bunch, right?
Yeah, we’ve had quite a few. We did a world premier down in Wanaka, New Zealand, and then did a tour through Australia and then we just finished our US Tour. Next Wednesday we’re heading over for a fucking death march through Europe.

I’ve read in a past interview that you still have videos of you and your friends filmed on shitty old VHS cameras riding in the back country when you were kids. It’s got to be a trip to watch That’s It, That’s All now that it is completed. Your films have obviously come a long way.
[Laughs] Yeah, I’m still excited about it and I’ve seen the movie God knows how many times, not to mention being in that editing room for about four months. Seeing people watch it though, they are genuinely stoked on it. I’m still hyped on the film.

Don’t you think you just made every other snowboard video dropping this year look like clown shoes?
[Laughs] Um, I mean I definitely don’t like to say it that way. We were definitely after our own thing for our own reasons. We weren’t necessarily out to shit on the competition. I guess simply put, in comparison, yeah. We kind of made the video comparing it to film entities other than snowboard films, so for us it wasn’t like, “Think about doing this or doing that.”

You used the same camera systems used to film Planet Earth, right?
Yeah, we used the same aerial systems that they used. It’s called Cineflex.

So that’s why you get that “floating camera” effect, right? Where it doesn’t feel like the camera is in the helicopter at all.
Totally, and that’s why we really wanted to do it that way. We used another system as well; it’s a little bit of an older system but more kind of what Hollywood uses called the Wescam 35mm. The real reason we wanted to do that is because, I mean, you see aerial shots a lot these days in films, but you always think that there’s some dude hanging out of the chopper trying to keep it steady. But with the Cineflex you can do it, and you’re still focused on the action and what’s going on. You don’t even think about the fact that you’re shooting from a helicopter.

You filmed for two years; there must have been tons and tons of footage. How do you sift through all that and decide what makes the cut and what doesn’t?
It was a long process, man. We had a little over 300 hours of raw footage at the end.

Organization is everything, if it just came down to editing, then you know, bada-bing bada-boom. Sitting and organizing the footage is probably the most tedious part. Curt Morgan, my partner, he started basically in the fall before our second season and kind of worked steadily throughout the winter. We even brought our studio up to Alaska with us for a month. We would shoot during the day and work all night. Then come springtime he pretty much sat down in front of a computer and didn’t leave for four months straight.

What happens with all the unused footage?
We’re doing a six part hour-long TV series. So a lot of it is going toward that.

When will that be ready?
Next fall.

I feel like anyone could watch That’s It, That’s All and enjoy it regardless of whether or not they had ever been snowboarding. Is that what you guys were going for—a more broader audience?
That was kind of our big challenge that we put ourselves up to on this project was basically still making the movie for our peers, for the core snowboarder. But, at the same time trying to do it in a sense where a 50-year-old Texan could watch it who has never seen a snowboard and have it be compelling and interesting.

You can’t really appreciate things until you’ve tried them yourself, whether its skateboarding, golf, anything. Until you actually go out and try you don’t really grasp what’s its like or how challenging it really is.
Our big thing was trying to put the viewer in the shoes of the rider.

There is a scene in Alaska where you almost get caught in an enormous avalanche. What was going through your head as you had to “Wolverine” your way out?
Honestly, nothing. You don’t really have time to think about it or process it. It’s action, reaction, you know? It’s more after the fact you actually have time to think about it.

Did that happen often on that trip?
That’s pretty few and far between. That’s only really happened to me three times ever, and that one didn’t even really catch me. It’s definitely uncommon. But, you know, the danger is there, indeed.

There’s a section in the movie where some of your peers are praising you and talking all this great shit about you. What’s it like to hear them say things like, “Rice progresses the sport?”
Oh it’s epic. I couldn’t be happier about it. To be honest, with making this film it’s been a little difficult, especially in the editing process, because it is so focused on me. My buddy put it best when he said to me, “The only way this movie is going to be good is if you’re the only one who doesn’t like it.”

[Laughs] No, but I mean it’s definitely humbling.

You are all about progression, you have pushed the sport in new ways your whole career. After That’s It, That’s All, what the hell could be next for Travis Rice?
Oh, it’s in the works, man. In 2010 we’re going to shit all over this project [laughs]. No, ever since we basically had our first premier of this film we’ve been working on a new project. I guess That’s It, That’s All isn’t exactly the greatest title for following it up.

Post from: Submerge Magazine

In a manner of speaking, Tom Gabel has come full circle. Long before his Gainseville, Fla.-based punk band Against Me! gained wider notoriety with its latest album (and first major label release) New Wave, Gabel played solo under the same moniker. Now, the singer/songwriter stands ready to release his first true solo effort under his own name. Heart Burns, a seven-song EP, is slated for an Oct. 30 release on Sire Records. In the meantime, however, Gabel is on the road with Against Me! through the month of October, with solo dates to follow in November. Gabel recently shared with Submerge his thoughts on the upcoming election, his solo album and his search for a place to call home.

Where are you right now?
We’re in Atlanta, Ga.

So you’re not too far from home.
Not too far. We go to South Carolina tomorrow, and then down into Florida to play a couple of Florida shows, including a Gainesville show. So we’ll be floating around there; although, right now I don’t even have a home. I just have a storage unit in Gainesville.

On your blog you wrote that you were thinking of moving to Los Angeles.
I am thinking about that. It’s just so fucking expensive. Me and my wife have been looking for places in St. Petersburg, Fla. as well, and the amount of space you can get compared to the amount of space you’d get in L.A., it’s tough to justify that sacrifice. But then at the same time, there’s so much going on in L.A. Really for me, I’m just trying to figure out what my schedule is and what living situation will allow me to spend the most time at home.

Well, look at it this way, you’ll be out on the road, so that will give you a chance to see a lot of different places.
But that will just makes it more complicated. It’s easier when you only have a couple of options, but when you’re like, “I can live anywhere in the world,” then it’s like, “Fuck! Where am I going to live?”

You’d also written on your blog that during the recording of your solo album in L.A., you felt more like yourself. Could you explain that a little bit?
I don’t know. I guess it has a lot to do with the nature of the city. I feel like that when you’re out there, a lot of the times, the people you meet aren’t that impressed with what you’re doing. They have their own little projects going on. It’s like, “Oh, that’s cool. You’re doing a solo thing? I’m doing this. Check this out.” It has an energy of people sharing ideas and checking out what other people are doing and being inspired by it and doing their own thing. I’ve lived in Gainesville a long time, and it has its positive aspects and its negative aspects, but for me, it just seems to be smaller and smaller of a city. I feel more uncomfortable. I have a certain lack of anonymity there that I would like to have in my life.

Now that the band has gained more notoriety, do you feel that also makes Gainesville seem a little smaller?
Yeah, but it doesn’t take much notoriety at all to feel that in Gainesville. It’s just weird. I feel like a lot of the times, you walk into a room, and you can tell that people have this perception of you that’s incorrect. Maybe it isn’t a fair one, but they have an opinion about you nonetheless. You feel like you’re not in control of what that opinion may be of you, and it makes for an uncomfortable situation. It’s just kind of weird as far as trying to make friends and trying to have a life when you’re at home.

From what I’ve read, it seemed like you were debating as to whether you’d release the songs on your solo album under your name or under Against Me!. Why did you decide to put them out under Tom Gabel?
Really, the deciding factor for me was… In November, I’m doing a bunch of touring after I finish up this tour [with Against Me!]. That’s why I started writing these songs, because I knew I was going to do these dates, and I also had all these thoughts in my head that I wanted to get out and put to music—about the current political scene and the election and all that. I felt it was important to record them and record them quickly, and just get them out there. I went into the studio originally thinking it would be Against Me!, but the tipping point was that it wouldn’t be weird to release a record that was just me under the name Against Me!. I don’t think people would be confused by that, because the band started out that way. I think that people would understand that. They’d buy the record, and it wouldn’t be a disappointing thing, but I couldn’t play a show under the name Against Me! and have it just be myself. If it couldn’t go both ways, it wouldn’t seem right to me.

You said that you wanted to get your solo songs out before the election. On your blog you wrote that you thought John McCain has never stopped fighting the Vietnam War. Are you fearful of McCain winning the election, and what do you think that would mean for the country?
I’m totally fearful of him winning the election, and I really hope that he doesn’t. I hope that a year from now that he’s just a fading memory. In a lot of ways, saying that it would be four more years of Bush would be incorrect. It would definitely be his own agenda, and I think that he has his own vision of the world, but from reading his books and stuff like that, he comes from a really strong military background. His father fought in wars, his father’s father fought in wars, his father’s father’s father fought in wars, and so on and so on. I think that he really sees that as a way to solve problems. In particular, with the Vietnam War, I feel like that not only does he feel an embitterment for what happened to him—which is understandable being a POW—but I really think it goes deeper than that. It goes to the way America started to view the war and the backlash that came with the protest movement of the ‘60s. The war was lost on both those fronts. It was lost on the real frontlines and here at home, and I feel like he’s never gotten over that. I think he really feels like there needs to be this return to some kind of glory of America that’s long gone. I feel like we won’t be leaving Iraq anytime soon [under McCain] and that we’d be invading more countries.

Would you consider yourself an Obama supporter, or do you see him as the lesser of two evils?
Well, I don’t know. I’m definitely not a Democrat. In my opinion, it’s an imperfect system when you only have two choices, and I wish there were more options. I do agree with a lot of what he [Obama] says—not everything he says—but I do think he’s the best choice for this country at the moment.

What’s coming up next for Against Me!?
Well we have this tour through the end of October, and then I go out and do some solo dates for November on the Revival Tour and a couple after by myself. Then we go to France in December for like a week and a half or so, and then we come home and I’m sure everyone’s going to do their own thing for the holidays—for Christmas and New Year’s. We’re not going to be practicing on those days. We’ve just rented a new practice space in Gainsville, and we’re going to start writing. We haven’t had a break in a long time. We haven’t had time to focus. I think we need a second to write the next record.

Would you say you need a vacation?
Sometimes yes, sometimes no. I feel really energized and creative, and I’m excited about music, but at the same time, I don’t have a fucking home [laughs]. I’ve been without a home or a solid foundation for a good two years now, and it’s really unsettling. I need to just put some attention into my personal life for a second and sort that all out before I can continue to do what I’m doing now, because everything else is in total disarray. We’re at that point where we want to play new songs. You have to take a second sometimes and just collect yourself and reflect and then move on to the next thing.

Post from: Submerge Magazine

By Catherine Foss

Go ahead and laugh. No, seriously—when it comes to her work, local artist Liv Moe intends to entertain. Drop all textbook philosophies and art-school vocabularies at the door, and prepare yourself to confront a hodge-podge of ordinary objects set against each other in such a way as to make you reconsider the objects we surround ourselves with on a daily basis. “My work really revolves around the environments that we construct for ourselves,” Moe explains. She says that although not all of her individual pieces have a specific meaning, there is a central theme that runs throughout her art, which is: “What American culture surrounds itself with. We’re a culture of stuff. We’re packrats; we have so much junk.”

Hair Chair

Her current show at The BrickHouse Gallery will run until Oct. 31, and is entitled Giggles. The show is titled after a particular piece bold and assertive enough to coax a nervous laugh from just about anyone: large male genitalia fashioned from a comic-print sleeping bag that Moe picked up at a thrift store. She was originally attracted by the cartoon pattern, but once she brought it home she noticed that this was no ordinary sleeping bag; it zipped up the center instead of the side, and the top was meant to be folded over on both corners so that someone could wear it “like a little cocoon,” she says. “When I put it together in my studio the way it was intended to be worn, I realized that it looked like a giant cock and balls,” she laughs. This phallic symbol created from such a light-hearted print makes for an interesting juxtaposition. “For me it references that nervousness that happens when kids are confronted with sexuality. It’s something bigger than they can understand, so the way that [they] address it is to giggle about it.”

Moe had been waiting for about a year for just the right opportunity to show this particular piece, and it all came together while planning her current show. Many of the pieces were previously shown during her thesis show at Sacramento State last April, and she remembered hearing a lot of laughter from people who viewed her work—and so, a theme was born.

“In some cases an uneasiness happens with some of the work. I think that’s why people nervously giggle when they see things that are odd or funny but they don’t totally understand them, so I thought it was appropriate to name the show Giggles,” Moe says.

In a conversation with this amazingly articulate artist, Moe shares the inner-workings of her artistic mind.

Spring Air

Tell me a little about your current art and how it came to be what it is. Did it start with an idea of something that you wanted to express, or did it just come to be on its own?
Once I started working with materials, I was so compelled to work with materials. It was all I wanted to do. Suddenly I was so excited about art and wanted to pursue a degree in it. It was like, this is what I want to do. I’m not totally sure how I’m going to do it or what my focus is or what I’m specifically interested in expressing through it, but this is what I want to do. I realized over time that I have a sensibility that when I approach objects, there are things that I just find humorous or culturally interesting.

Many of the items used in your art would be considered junk by most people; when did you begin to see these items as art?
It’s one of those things that you just 100 percent have to believe that what it is can be art, and push it as far as you’re comfortable pushing it…I’ve realized with my own art that once I start the questions, I’m over. I should just stop making the piece, [or] you start feeling that you’re just fooling yourself, and that what you’re doing is just silly or odd or dumb, and you can’t develop your idea any further than that.

Do you set time aside to collect the items used in your work, or do you just gather things as you come across them?
It just depends…. When I’m in my practice, I usually go looking for materials a couple times a week… Sometimes something will start out really organically, like I’ll find one material, then I’ll find this object, then I’ll start putting them all together, and I’ll realize that in order to make this successful, I need a ton of grapes. So you mine the thrift stores as far as you can, and suddenly the piece becomes going to all the dollar stores you can find, and going on the Internet, researching how much rubber grapes cost…Once something comes together, you’re on this really funny journey.

You’re both a writer and an artist. Do your left-brain and your right brain always get along, or is it hard to find a balance between the two?
There is a part of me that is overly analytical and I ask too many questions and I think too much about why I’m doing something without just letting myself do it. So there’s really a balance for me between over-documenting what I’m doing or writing about what I’m doing or photographing what I’m doing and just letting it happen.

You use a lot of items from the domestic sphere; do you consider yourself a feminist artist?
I identify myself as a feminist very distinctly, but I don’t perceive what I make as feminist work… The work is something that is accessible to everyone and it’s not about furthering a feminist philosophy.

If you could have viewers understand just one thing after going to one of your shows that they didn’t think of before, what would it be?
It really is simple. It’s about the components you’re looking at, and then suddenly all that work became more accessible to me and more interesting, and so I think that that’s really the thing that I hope people will take away when they look at it is that it’s OK, you can really just look at what’s actually there and make your decisions based on that.

We Need Each Other

Post from: Submerge Magazine

Favorite MCs:
1) Eminem
2) Jay-Z
3) Chase Moore

Least favorite MCs:
1) Dose
2) Aesop Rock
3) Cawzlos

Favorite albums:
1) Thriller – Michael Jackson
2) 2001 – Dr. Dre
3) They’re All Gonna Laugh at You – Adam Sandler

Least favorite albums:
1) C True Hollywood Stories – Canibus
2) 8 Diagrams – Wu Tang Clan
3) NOW! That’s What I Call Music 17

Favorite concerts:
1) Rock the Bells where Mos Def performed “True Magic” produced by DJ Epik
2) Ashford & Simpson at GlideChurch in SF
3) Chase Moore in 2004 The Source Unsigned Hype battle at Arco Arena

Least favorite concerts:
1) Ugly Duckling where they dissed JD and Jay-Z
2) N.E.R.D.’s performance at Sleep Train
3) Downtown James Brown on 28th and K St.

Favorite movies:
1) The Dark Knight
2) The Godfather II
3) Terminator 2

Least favorite movies:
1) Batman & Robin
2) Napoleon Dynamite
3) Jaws-3D

Favorite radio stations:
1) Shade 45
2) KBMB 102.5
3) KSFM 103.5

Least favorite radio stations:
1) KBMB 103.5
2) KSFM 102.5
3) The one that has Ryan Seacrest on it

Favorite DJs to work with:
1) DJ Epik
2) DJ Oasis
3) Kodak

Favorite venues to rock live in Sac:
1) The Library (R.I.P.)
2) Joe Style’s Shop (R.I.P.)
3) The Boardwalk

Favorite bars in Sac:
1) The L (shout out to my brother Leon)
2) Whiskey Wild (only if I’m faded and on the prowl)
3) Flame Club (cheap as fuck)

Least favorite bars in Sac:
1) Barcode
2) XO Lounge
3) Flame Club

Favorite places to take a lady in Sac:
1) My bed
2) My bed again
3) A quiet picnic overlooking the river at dusk

Guilty pleasures:
1) Katy Perry
2) Marvel Comics
3) Fried chicken and hot sauce

Photo by Carlos Lopez

Post from: Submerge Magazine

Isolation has its perks. Looking to avoid distractions and work on his music, singer/guitarist Kevin Murphy left Bellingham, Wash. and headed north to Ketchikan, Alaska. Holed up in an attic, the young songwriter—not even of legal drinking age at the time—began working on tunes with a four-track recorder. “I think I was just getting burnt out on Bellingham,” he recollects. Upon returning to Washington, his band, The Moondoggies, was born. The group became a fixture at Seattle’s Blue Moon Tavern, which Murphy describes as the kind of place that “back in the day they’d have chicken wire up and people would throw beer bottles at the band.”

The Blue Moon may have lacked frills, but there Murphy and the Moondoggies gained confidence in their material, a whiskey-tinged blend of folk, gospel and old-time rock ‘n’ roll punctuated by three-part harmonies and classic Rhodes organ flourishes. This fall, The Moondoggies will embark upon their first string of continuous tour dates around the Pacific Northwest and Northern California in support of their first album Don’t Be a Stranger. Murphy took time from his day job (he’s a baker) to answer a few of Submerge’s questions.

Three members of the band had graduated from the same high school. Were you all friends back then?
Yeah, that’s how it all started. I played with the bassist in high school with a different band. The drummer and I hung out since sophomore year. He never played the drums, but he just kind of picked it up. We’d have late nights of messing around on our instruments. It was just us hanging around and stuff like that.

Caleb Quick is the one band member who went to a different school. How did you meet up with him?
He’s quite a few years older than I am. He’s 27. I met him through a friend of mine in Bellingham, which is a college town north of Seattle. We just kind of messed around.

Did him being older than you affect your chemistry at all when you started playing?
The stuff I was doing in high school was a lot louder, and when I moved to Bellingham I started doing my own thing. He’s a piano teacher and has been playing for years. I had some four-track stuff I’d show him, and he’d coax me into singing and playing, because I was really shy about showing it to people. He’d make me drink a 40 and get me to start singing louder. He’s the one who kind of coaxed it out of me.

Was that shyness difficult for you to get over?
Yeah. I had a lot of four-track stuff, and I just felt real dorky about showing him, but he liked it, so we just started building on top of that. I wanted to start doing something, but he was my way of going about doing it.

What affect did your time in Alaska have on your songwriting?
I definitely wasn’t distracted. There wasn’t a lot to do up there, and there weren’t a lot of people I related to so much, especially where I worked, which was just like tourist work. I turned an attic into this little space. It was one of those things where you didn’t have any time to try to distract yourself if you weren’t getting anything done. I remember crawling up there for hours and just playing and making a lot of tapes and stuff. It was very productive. Going from there to back down here, when I met up with Caleb again, I had a lot more stuff to throw his way.

What was Caleb’s initial reaction to the tapes you’d made in Ketchikan?
Well, he was playing with somebody else. I had to coax him back into playing with me again. Our bass player had gotten a Rhodes, and I remember that we were playing, and I had to come up with a way to get [Caleb] to come play with us, so I told him we had a Rhodes, and he showed up like a few hours later. I think the fact that I was playing with Bobby [Terreberry, bass] and Carl [Dahlen, drums] and showing Karl harmonies, and I think he [Caleb] was pleased to see that it had come a lot farther than our days in Bellingham.

Prior to that you were doing louder, more garage rock kind of stuff, correct?
Yeah, it was your typical high school frustration.

Was it difficult to get everyone to change style so radically?
I think it was a natural full circle, because that was the kind of stuff we grew up on. I think there was a point when we were playing that kind of music that we just didn’t feel like we needed to be that loud. My friend John was the singer of that, and that was more about going down into the basement and turning it up as loud as we could. When I started writing my own stuff, it was more like what I had grown up on, and more natural songs that I preferred. We were getting burned out, I think, on just blasting it.

I guess you only have so much aggression before you run out of breath from yelling so much.
It was definitely good music for the time, because that’s how you feel most of the time in high school, I suppose. But I grew up obsessed with Nirvana and the Beatles, so there’s a middle of the road. There’s a need to calm down.

Post from: Submerge Magazine

R&B artist Bobby Valentino has set out to make a name for himself as a musical mogul and has no intention to “Slow Down.” Valentino holla’ed at Submerge while touring through the American “backwoods” of South Carolina where there’s nothing to see but “cows and a lot of grass.”

Valentino has certain name recognition throughout the radio and R&B world. He’s that smooth dude who puts out those catchy hip-hop infused love songs, right? Well yeah, but the dude’s done more than just set the mood for baby makin’ or giving a shout out to your “big baby boi boo” on a Sunday night slow jam radio show.

Actually, this Atlanta-based singer started out with a group named Mista when he was a teenager in the late ‘90s. The group had a hit single called “Blackberry Molasses” (featured in the T.I. movie ATL). But the success seemed to subside after that single.

“We were a one-hit wonder. That album was very big,” Valentino says.

Returning to high school meant that Valentino went from “being a superstar to being normal again.” Kids would sing lyrics from “Blackberry Molasses” when he walked down the halls of school, he says. The difficult times for the industry didn’t defer Valentino and he wanted to pursue music after high school, but his parents insisted he get the grades and graduate college.

“Being on top one day and on the bottom the next, they realized how unstable the music industry really was,” he says.

Through his college years, Valentino lived a double life. On top of the normal grueling grind of school, he didn’t give up on his musical career and would pull long days where he’d be in the studio at night and wake up early for class the next morning, he says. Although it was hard for Valentino to stay focused at Clark Atlanta University with a 20 to one female to male ratio, Valentino graduated with a mass communications degree in radio and television.

“More than anything from college, I learned how to multitask, how to be responsible and put the most important things first, and everything else, you know it’ll come later,” Bobby Valentino says.

After graduation, Valentino hit the ground running. With three demos post grad, he got signed as a solo artist by longtime connection Ludacris on his Def Jam imprint, Disturbing tha Peace Records. “When I was in the group Mista, Luda was on the radio. So there were a lot of times when he used to interview me on the radio. It’s just funny how things turn and that’s why you learn not to burn bridges,” he says. “He was interviewing me.”

Somewhere along the way, Bobby Wilson became Bobby Valentino from his affection for ladies and vice versa. The R&B love songs probably didn’t hurt either.

“I’ve always been smooth with the ladies, you know, and somebody just came up with the name and started calling me Valentino. I added it on to my real birth name, Bobby, put it together and BAM! You got Bobby Valentino,” he explains.

Under Def Jam and Disturbing tha Peace, Valentino had U.S. Billboard Hot 100 singles like debut “Slow Down,” “Anonymous” and “Tell Me.” After sophomore album Special Occasion reached it’s peak of record sales, the vocal Valentino was released from Def Jam in February 2008. He then met with his team and decided the best thing to do was step out on his own. Valentino asked to leave DTP and officially split in April 2008.

“A lot of people thought I was done. People called me stupid for leaving DTP. People said, ‘It’s over with Bobby Valentino. It’s a wrap.’”

But he wanted to get to the next level as an artist, Bobby Valentino says. “You can’t always be up under the ‘umbrella’ all of the time. You got to step out on faith. If I want to be like Luda who’s a mogul in the game, I can’t be up under Luda.” The only way to do that on his own was to start Blu Kolla Dreams.

Again feeling the inconsistency of the music industry, from February to June of this year was a “real tough time” in Valentino’s life.

“Like I say: A lot of folks, when you’re on top, folks want to hop on the bandwagon, ‘Woo, you’re the best, you’re the greatest.’ But when you’re down, folks they don’t want to talk to you, they act like they don’t even know who you are.”

Valentino used that message to stay focused and started recording his next album. He titled the album Rebirth to “reflect everything that’s happened since he was ‘dropped,’ he’s turned into a new person and he’s humbled.”

“It was tough to actually get things done even though I had a name,” Valentino says.

Valentino kept his head up, kept faith and kept working, insisting, “God works in mysterious ways.” He must have been right because he’s featured on rap royalty Lil’ Wayne’s “Mrs. Officer” joint from Tha Carter III—a song that’s been spreading like California wildfires. Fans are getting a taste of the new album that’s due to drop Jan. 27, 2009 with first release “Beep” featuring Young Joc.

“I couldn’t ask for a better situation or a better set-up,” Bobby Valentino says.

Post from: Submerge Magazine

Listen to local musician Christopher Fairman’s upcoming new release, 85, 87, and allow Fairman’s smooth, strong vocals to meld with guitarist Nick York’s haunting, melodic riffs. Fairman’s brooding voice is just slightly reminiscent of singers like Ryan Adams and Nick Drake, with a darkness that permeates throughout all seven tracks—powerful, lilting melodies with the occasional romantic ballad thrown in (hey, he is only 23).

Let’s not forget that the CD was recorded in just four hours, in a session that was equally surprising to Fairman, York and producer David Houston. Although Fairman had been mulling the tracks over in his mind for months, he had no idea when the day would come to record. But the muse is a fickle creature, and one day, it struck.
“I had a really bad day, and for some reason I just knew it was the day to record,” he says. There’s nothing like recording an entire album practically straight through to turn your day around. “It was a good day. But afterward, I was pretty mentally drained,” he remembers.

Songwriting seems to be Fairman’s forte. He says that although he’s dabbled in music since the age of 8—including piano, violin and saxophone—none of those instruments really spoke to him.

“I didn’t feel like I could express myself enough,” he explains. “I decided to play the bass, which just made me want to play the guitar, which is where I ended up. I really probably only played the guitar to write songs.”

The new album marks a personal triumph in regards to Fairman’s writing, as he explains, “I think it’s the first time that I feel really good about being a writer… I was able to really let go and I could write about things I would be afraid to write about before.” You’ll hear poetry in the music, with the melodies carrying you to a place where you forget you’re even listening to words. “I write every song differently. I’m a big fan of poetry, but I don’t consider myself a poet.”

The cover art on 85, 87 was painted by Michael Pitcher, one of Fairman’s best friends, and serves more than just decoration. Fairman points to the painting as being one of the main inspirations behind the entire album.

“The painting was a big part of a year of my life, because I was writing songs and he was painting his painting, and then he gave it to me for my birthday,” Fairman says. “It really feels like a year of my life all really came together.”

Song choices on the album were largely a result of that connection to Pitcher’s painting. Fairman relates that he had 18 songs to choose from, but made the decision to whittle them down to the seven songs that were the darkest. “I kind of purposely wanted to go darker because the painting is pretty dark,” he says.

Although Fairman is still young, he seems keenly aware of both his own emotions and the emotions of others. And although his music may be dark, it isn’t entirely autobiographical. “I feel like I took a year of my life and condensed it, like someone writing a novel might do. Not every character is about them,” he explains.

Fairman has also built a lengthy resume in a relatively short time. His first taste of music production happened with the band he formed while in high school, Fairman and Friends, which included pianist David DeMuri and drummer Jon McHenry. They released their CD, Patiently Waiting, in 2004. In 2006, Fairman put out a solo EP. Then, later that year, he released his full-length album Born Broken, a slightly jazzier and more pop-like album than his newest release, and including a variety of different musicians and instruments—listen for cello and violin in the background of certain tracks.

Beyond simple evolution, Fairman’s musical abilities have matured while working with so many different musicians, allowing him to embrace his many sides. “I think that back in my first band I wanted to do this jazzy rock kind of thing, and now I have separate things. I have this solo thing that is kind of dark, really moody, airy stuff. I also have a band called The Stilts and that is a mix of a pop, rock and psychedelic band.”

He calls The Stilts his “rock band”; when Fairman’s going to play at Old Ironsides, he is accompanied by Nick York and Mike Farrell on guitar, Matt McCord on drums and Chris Vogel on bass. If he’s going to Luna’s Café, that’s when he goes solo, with Nick York’s guitar riffs to carry him through.

Although Fairman still waits tables now, it’s safe to guess that he won’t need a day job for much longer. “I see music as a business,” he says, explaining all the work he’s put into his musical career thus far. “There’s just so many things you have to do to actually put on the show, especially because I like things to be good.” In the meantime, we should definitely plan on hearing the name Christopher Fairman in the Sacramento area for quite a while. “John McRea, the guy in Cake, told me that the way to make it is to keep going until you can’t do it anymore,” Fairman says.

Post from: Submerge Magazine