Comedian Doug Benson Returns to Punch Line

Humoredian Doug Benson has it made. While you and I sit at home angered by celebrity antics, cursing the television, while we watch movies and comment to our friends on merits, while we get stoned and laugh at silly nonsense, Benson has signed some deal in blood to get paid for these slacker pastimes.

Benson is currently on tour, so I called him at a Hampton Inn in St. Louis (proving he is not too famous for our little publication). He had just finished an appearance on the Great Day St. Louis morning show and returned to his room to escape the “hella hot” Midwest forecast. Upon hearing a familiar, often abused, Northern California slang term, I asked Doug if he was from our territory. “I just hear a bunch of words and repeat them,” he replied. “It’s not habit.”

This August, Benson will be at Sacramento’s Punch Line, a venue he has played before. He was particularly intrigued with the strip mall location of the Punch Line, which probably looks a little different now. “It’s the strangest comedy club positioning I’ve ever seen,” he said. “There [was] like a foam store, a TJ Maxx and a mattress store. It’s like a one-stop shopping center for a pimp. He’d be able to get all his shit there.”

Those still unfamiliar with Doug Benson might need to take a morning or two off from wake-and-baking. In 2006, High Times named Benson Stoner of the Year, aka your hero. His film, Super High Me, took the premise of Super Size Me and exchanged it with pot. He is the co-creator/writer/star of The Marijuana-logues, which is self-explanatory. He once saw a vagina smoking a joint.

Along with his pot-related accolades, he is a talking head on Best Week Ever, finished top six on Last Comic Standing, has a podcast called I Love Movies, a comedy album called Professional Humoredian—and he said I was a good interviewer.

Most comedians, or people for that matter, are forced to keep their personal habits ambiguous—possibly telling pot jokes or laughing at pot jokes, but not too frequently so they don’t arouse suspicion. Benson has managed to become a renowned toker, yet makes appearances on local morning shows without network hesitation. “They keep it clean and family-style, but it’s also live,” Benson said. “Sometimes when I’m talking, I can see in the eyes of the host that I’m being too risqué for morning television.”

He admits he does not mind the interviews that dodge his pot humor, since he has plenty to talk about beyond marijuana. Yet, his core fans remain a faded following. On Twitter the night prior to our interview, he thanked a St. Louis kid, whose name he could not remember, for smoking him up in his car. I asked Benson if it was bothersome to be loved by a group of people so eager to share their budding wealth. “It’s an exciting thing to have in my life if I am just wandering around and someone offers to smoke me up,” he said. “At shows I get so many offers I can’t say yes to everybody. People get bummed out, which is kind of a drag. I’d be happy to smoke with everybody; unfortunately I’ve got things to do. I certainly didn’t start telling jokes about pot to get free pot, but it’s been an amazing side benefit.”

Benson began his stand-up career on a dare from a friend, while working as a stand-in and extra in Los Angeles. That was 23 years ago. Benson made new friends through comedy by becoming part of the Comedians of Comedy, a group he has toured with extensively. In Super High Me, several of his comedian friends smoke weed on camera, specifically Sarah Silverman and Brian Posehn. Benson has admitted that he did not smoke weed until age 27 when he started working with Bay Area comedians who toke after every show. Now, Benson can’t be seen in public without accusations of being blunted beyond belief; even followers on Twitter that day accused him of being high on a morning show, to which he attested, “No I just woke up and did a show. I’m not one to set the alarm for 15 minutes earlier so I can wake and bake before a show.”

“I do have naturally squinty eyes,” he said. “And I do smoke a lot of pot. So I don’t blame them for thinking I’m high. I can make jokes even when I’m not high. I’m that good at it.”

Truly Benson is capable of entertaining beyond cannabis conversations. His I Love Movies podcast, which he records at Los Angeles’s Upright Citizens Brigade Theater, has a simple premise. Benson and his comedian friends record their rants on movies in front of a studio audience and play the Leonard Maltin game or the Name That Tune game show’s Bid-A-Note round, but with movies.

A fan of the summer blockbuster push, he said he is disappointed with this season thus far. “Terminator was disappointing, Wolverine was disappointing,” he said. “I watched five minutes of Angels and Demons, then got up and left. I was like ‘I can see Star Trek again.'”

Still he found Star Trek was not a perfect movie beyond criticism. In fact, Benson raises an interesting point regarding the story. “I didn’t have the excitement over it that I hoped to have,” Benson said. “It did a good job reinventing all the characters.” Benson immediately broke into a rant with possible spoiler alerts, “Why do they always have to bring time travel into it? Now that they’ve introduced time travel and old Spock tells young Kirk what to do, why can’t old Spock just show up all the time when there’s a problem.” He went on to compare it to Superman spinning the world backwards to turn back time.

Benson included The Hangover in the short list of summer movies he’s enjoyed so far. Show stealer Zach Galifianakis is a member of the Comedians of Comedy and makes an appearance in Super High Me as Benson’s friend. “Well, I take a lot of credit for breaking Zach’s movie career with his appearance in Super High Me,” he said. “Things have been going great for him ever since. I look forward to riding his coattails.” Benson expressed his own interest in pushing into feature films, but admitted he is not prepared to do the full frontal nudity that Galifianakis bared. “I’m a little shy when it comes to public nudity,” he said.

Benson’s current tour is in preparation for his new comedy album, Unbalanced Load, on Comedy Central Records. He is performing an “evolving set” that includes new material. “Certainly anyone who saw me when I was last in Sacramento can expect a lot of new material,” he said. “I will be doing a lot of material from the record that week.” Benson said he usually reserves some time near the end of his set for requests from the audience outside of “more jokes about pot.” He just encourages enthusiasts to shout their favorite bits without tampering with the joke. “The best way to ask for a joke during the show is to not yell out the punch line of the joke,” he said. “Where do I go from there?”

Chase Moore Steps to the Mic for Cawzlos’s LMNH Records

For the true MC, proving oneself in a battle is paramount; not just to prove he is gifted, unlimited with rhymes universal, but as a chance to rep his crew and community. Only the choicest of battle rappers are able to put such weight on their shoulders. After an evening conversation with Chase Moore and his crewmate Cawzlos, it is apparent that someone is hungry for some weight.

Intimidating is not synonymous with Chase Moore’s physical presence. He stands comparative to the average California male, but it’s rash to discount his size in a battle. Mixing words, Chase Moore stands strong on his own, tossing punch lines like darts at his opponents. In March, Chase battled in Santa Cruz, practically eating a burnout local rapper named Dopey Delik alive with lines like, “So if you swear you got great diction/Beware of Chase spitting/You should be scared I’ll raid where you living/I know you got chips/Your parents paid your tuition.“ Stingers.

If you follow the battle circuit, the names will become hella familiar; but rarely is it possible to find music from the rappers, and even more difficult to find good music. For Chase, battling seems like an effortless exercise requiring minimal practice. Chase’s true grind comes from the pursuit of notoriety outside the spitkicker circuit. “[Battling] is really just to raise awareness for my album,” Chase said “I can definitely do both. Ninety-five percent of [battle rappers] make horrible music. You’ll hear rappers who are amazing in battles and you throw on the record and it’s”¦ [Chase shudders at the thought] I spend a lot more time in the studio than I do battling.”

Born into music, Chase’s father, Neil Moore, is an accomplished pianist who invented a playing-based piano teaching method called Simply Music. In 1994, Neil moved his family from Australia to the United States to start his business, which is now an international success. In speaking about his father, Chase used words like “visionary” and “entrepreneur,” appreciating his father’s hustle. “It didn’t happen over night,” he said. “Me, my brother and my sister shared the same room for years. It’s dope, though, that he had that much faith and belief.”

Growing up Down Under, he said exposure to hip-hop beyond commercial hits brought over from the United States was limited. Chase borrowed an old keyboard from his dad in eighth grade to make beats. He learned the drums in seventh grade and said every year he took the hobby to heart, eventually rhyming over his production. It’s no surprise a young Chase was influenced by Wu-Tang Clan’s debut, Enter the Wu-Tang: 36 Chambers. Chase said hearing “Bring Da Ruckus” in sixth grade blew his mind. Now, Chase blasts a hype verse in a gruff voice that’s tough like an elephant tusk. “By the time I really got into hip-hop I had lost my accent,” he said.

Chase spent his young adult life rapping in numerous groups, self-releasing albums to mixed reception. His group Capital Conspiracy earned a Sammie nomination. Chase attributes his youth and limited business knowledge to these ephemeral albums, some of which were never released. In 2007 Chase and Cawzlos moved to Los Angeles with the intentions of getting a record deal.

Young and hungry, the two linked up with Mike Conception, a former Crip who worked with Eazy-E, Dr. Dre and MC Hammer. Conception also allegedly struck a deal with Russell Simmons to call off a hit on rap group 3rd Bass, who dissed Hammer on record, in exchange for a seat next to Michael Jackson at the 1990 American Music Awards. Chase’s song “Lonely Road” briefly addresses his stint in Los Angeles, “I was thrown for a loop/Basically, I was too broke for some food.“ “Working with a heavy hitter in the streets was a crazy experience, but I wouldn’t change it for the world,” Chase said. “For me, as an artist and producer, I just had to move back, regroup and start over.”

Chase is scheduled to release his debut, Moore to Chase, in July on LMNH (Look Mama No Hands) records, a label run by PCM (Paper Chase Music) crewmate Cawzlos. Two years in the making, Moore to Chase seemed doomed from Chase’s lack of focus and his struggles with procrastination. “Because I’m a battle rapper, I relied on a lot of punchlines and wordplay,” he said. “A lot of the material I did lacked content—just smoking weed references and I’m-better-than-you, generic content.”

Now 23 years old, Chase rung in 2009 with a renewed clarity, quitting weed and booze cold turkey. As we sat down to talk at Aura on J St., we casually ordered drinks; myself a Dos Equis and Chase a diet cola. “I started smoking and drinking around 12,” he said. “It got to a point where I was blacking out every weekend, smoking zips of weed. I just felt like I was getting sidetracked.” Chase admitted the vices never go away—a time might come when he returns to them. “I just wanted to get my head clear,” he said. “It was hard at first, but it’s for the better. I made a pact to myself that I will be sober this whole year.”

“I was always loaded in the studio,” he said. Hearing his music sober, Chase spent January re-recording old songs and writing personal songs delving into his struggles with establishing an identity and turning his back on addiction. On “Lonely Road” Chase declares, “In order for my clique to get ample wealth/There’s a lot of business I got to handle myself/And I’m not demanding help.”

Chase and Cawzlos are fervid in establishing their crew and label into Sacramento streets. Fed up with a lack of community support, Cawzlos caused a couple eating dinner next to our table to leave as he shouted “fuck you”s to local radio stations and bars that won’t support local music without payola. “We act as if we hate politics, but at the end of the day our front yard is the Capital,” he said. “We politic like crazy. We clique up. We campaign hard.”

As Chase and I talked, Cawzlos paced the block, talking on his phone and with fellow musicians who happened to pass by. Cawzlos expressed frustration with his contemporaries. He said the conversation was essentially two people “all about their own shit.” Cawzlos recalled when, only a few years ago, Sacramento hip-hop was thriving with artists getting features in Vibe magazine. He said cold shoulders from radio stations caused artists to turn cold shoulders on each other. “If people continually shun you, you’ll recreate a new method to getting your shit out there. And when you figure out your niche, you’re not telling the next guy. Why would you tell the next guy, because it took you 14 years to figure out how to even get to this point?”

It’s not all distaste for Sacramento. Cawzlos is featured on Chase’s album on a cut called “City of Trees,” in which the duo shows love. “We don’t deny that we’re from here, or that we love it here,” Cawzlos said. On “City of Trees” Chase acknowledges a hurt that lingers here as he raps, “When Robert Horry hit the shot we couldn’t stand the Lakers/Could you believe it?/Ai-yo Maloofs we need a new arena.”

The crew recognizes the next few months as a gamble with Chase as the guinea pig. “If you want to swim, you gotta jump in the water,” Chase said. “We’re coming in a big-ass boat ready to dive in the water.” Cawzlos added, “Yeah, I want to be rap star, but as a CEO I have to decide who is the most fit to play that role on our label right now. Even for me to say that, it hurts as an artist, but I’m realistic. Chase is our flagship artist and Moore to Chase is going to be the stepping stone for everyone to follow.”

Moore to Chase will be released in July as a dual package that includes Right on Time, a collection of extra songs that did not make the debut cut. “You have to give a lot more before you can be ready to receive,” Cawzlos said. Catch Chase in Oakland on June 6 battling in the Grind Time Battle of the Bay IV.

Lead vocalist Leighton Antelman of Lydia speaks humbly of his band’s success as though it’s a misnomered description. Lydia can be described as soaring indie rock adrift in desperation. Yet, as without creed as Antelman tries to write, his band continues to develop a loyal following ready to sacrifice their bodies for the band.

Originally conceived by high school friends in Tempe, Ariz., Lydia suffered the same lack of reward most bands face in that first year. Antelman said once they began playing shows outside of Arizona it felt more official. “We were pretty much your standard local band,” he said. “Playing shows every weekend and hammering through it.”

Lydia underwent a multitude of lineup changes before establishing its current roster comprised of lead vocalist/guitarist Antelman, keyboardist/backup vocalist Mindy White, guitarists Steve McGraw and Ethan Koozer, bassist Jed Dunning and drummer Craig Taylor.

With that first year of malaise behind Lydia, the band caught a break winning a contest sponsored by Atticus Clothing. The Drag The Lake, Volume 3 compilation featured Lydia’s song “Your Taste is My Attention.” Antelman said after the feature, the stages got larger and the recognition became more frequent, but this merely meant Lydia had locked in an opening spot on tour with Saves the Day.

Amid its touring schedule, the group self-released its debut, This December: It’s One More and I’m Free. Still, Lydia lingered in the wings of indie rock discovery until it befriended Copeland frontman Aaron Marsh and released Illuminate. “The band really never had an ‘all of a sudden moment,'” Antelman said, but it does not hurt to get the stamp of approval from Copeland and get their producer Matt Malpass to work the boards on your record.

Once Marsh heard Lydia’s Illuminate demos, he insisted on being part of the record, passing the word along to Malpass. Antelman said after the first week of uneasiness, as everyone felt each other out, the recording process hit a strong stride. “I wouldn’t say it was awkward,” Antelman said. “Luckily, our personalities are very similar. It went so well that I’m 80 percent sure we’ll do another record with Matt Malpass.”

Listening to Illuminate, Malpass’ touch is present, but Lydia manages to distinguish itself from an expected Copeland carbon copy. This staple of independence is owed to Antelman and McGraw—two strong songwriters whose demos needed little guidance from Malpass.

Antelman spoke sincerely of his appreciation of Malpass allowing Lydia to shape its sound. “We pretty much had the songs done when we went into the studio,” he said. “Not to say that we didn’t obviously take advice, but we knew what we wanted going in.”

Illuminate, in its tightly woven structure, often leads to the question, “is it a concept record?” Some songs share melodies and lyrics, but Antelman insists the sophomore record is more fluid than conceptual. “It’s meant to be heard from start to finish,” Antelman said. “There are three songs that are a small piece, but the whole record has no full concept.”

Antelman said he is resistant toward concepts or messages that tag the band or his songwriting with an agenda. Lydia might motivate fans to tattoo lyrics or the album art to their bodies, but it is not pushing a logo or dogma. “I’ve never [written] lyrics to convey a specific meaning,” he said. “Some bands are Christian and they’re trying to do whatever Christian music is trying to do, but I try to write lyrics open to interpretation without being too generic.” If Antelman has one major pet peeve with songwriters it’s generic postcard lyrics.

In striving for lyrics beyond the common song, yet open to decipherment, Lydia has won a loyal fan base. It’s not worship, but it’s dangerously close. When asked if a mention of fans with Lydia tattoos was a controlled case or an epidemic, Antelman cited five cases that happened just on the last tour. “It’s flattering to me,” he said.

After Lydia’s release of Illuminate, Antelman said the fan base doubled in size. On a previous tour he said it really hit him when he was able to stop singing specific parts of songs because the crowd was singing it louder than he could muster. “I used to go to a lot of shows when I was 15,” he said. “I always thought it was cool when a singer would stop and let the crowd sing the lyrics. To actually be on the other side of that is pretty mind blowing.”

Lydia’s West Coast tour will hit Sacramento’s Luigi’s Fungarden on May 30, traveling up the Pacific Northwest. Come June they plan to be hermits for a few months. “We’re going to at least try to write for the new record,” Antelman said. “I don’t prescribe to the ‘we’re going to take a couple months off to record’ approach that some bands take. I don’t believe in writing in a set amount of time. If you do that, you’re forcing your music.”

This stop will be Lydia’s fourth in Sacramento; Antelman said each show has grown in size with each visit and he expects this to be Lydia’s biggest yet. Antelman is excited for this tour in particular as a fan of warm climates. “I like the East coast, but it’s way too cold,” he said. “I hate snow. Snow is not my thing.”

Vivian Girls, Abe Vigoda, Agent Ribbons, Dog Party

Luigi’s Fun Garden “¢ Friday, April 24, 2009

By Blake Gillespie | Photos by Samantha Saturday

From the deck of Luigi’s Slices & Fun Garden, you could see over the security fence into the Wyclef concert on K St., but inside of the Fun Garden housed the most entertaining performances of the night. Besides, who wants to hear “Ready or Not” without Lauryn Hill? Yes, Pras can stay home.

The wall-to-wall capacity audience in the Fun Garden made it difficult to see the opening band, Dog Party. Granted, Dog Party is comprised of two Sacramento native 12- and 10-year-old sisters, so even working through the bodies to a closer position might not grant visibility.

It is about hearing Dog Party that matters most. Gwendolyn and Lucy Giles are too adorable and punk to be true. I am tempted to assume either they have a rad music teacher or even radder parents pushing good music on a future generation. Dog Party opened with covers of TV on the Radio’s “Young Liars” and followed it with Credence Clearwater Revival’s “Have You Ever Seen Rain?” Surprisingly, it flowed well. Even better, the girls presented a few original songs; mostly simple three cord post-punk about how it blows going back to school. Dog Party gets the nod of approval for sticking around the remainder of the night. There’s nothing more punk than staying out after the streetlights come on.

Agent Ribbons continues to prove they’re meant for attention larger than the Sacramento art galleries. In fact, it’s time Sacramento embrace the Ribbons girls as indie darlings poised for national notoriety before we lose them to some hip coastal city that will value their potential. Agent Ribbons is a delightful balance of blues and baroque—like hearing a set of songs inspired by The Velvet Underground’s “After Hours.” For every gentle nursery rhyme about the birds and the bees, there’s a naughty pun about the “sticky and sweet” side of love. Agent Ribbons tested out a new song, timid in presenting a song not yet mastered, but it played out without a kink. The ladies have the look, a treasure trove of songs, and a seasoned patience to draw the audience in for a shredding coda.

After a brilliant showing by local talent, it was time for the touring acts to seize the evening. Los Angeles’s Abe Vigoda got the gallery buzzing with its massive math dance sound. It’s always impressive to hear a band turn blistering finger chords into body moving rhythms. But, it’s bothersome to feel like it’s time to sway a little, only to be interrupted by a-rhythmic progressions. I gave up my inclinations to nod or move to Abe Vigoda simply because it required too much attention. In giving up, I heard chatter of appreciation in the Garden, so perhaps it was just me. It should also be noted that Abe Vigoda felt unwelcome amongst a bill of girl bands—as though the boys just had to break up babysitters club.

Vivian Girls can try their darnedest to not be dreamy, but even in their ambivalence, the ladies maintain an alternative sexiness. It’s in the reverb and harmonized vocals, but it’s mostly the bangs. Our mothers screamed uncontrollably for Beatles bowl cuts. Now their sons quietly long for the Brooklynite girls with tattoos and bangs.

Vivian Girls betrayed my reception of their self-titled debut. Live the Vivian Girls traded in the spiritless performance of songs like “I Believe in Nothing” for an untapped energy that was easily trapped within the Garden’s tight walls. The set felt like it was over before it even started, but it was tough to demand more from a band, barely 2 years old, with a 22-minute debut and limited B-sides.