Pancho And Redbone - rock musicians evaluate other rock musicians

Thrasher Magazine, Dec, 2001

A GUIDE TO ASS--KICKIN' ROCK

HOWDY DOO FOLKS, MR. ANDY HARRIS HERE, writing at my desk unit near the verdant green hills of Palos Verdes. Now, from time to time I find myself doing articles in this esteemed publication you're reading, and nine times out of 10 these pieces have to do with some rock band or another. While it turns out I happen to really like taking photos of rock 'n' roll shows and all the fun that comes associated with them, writing about these things is often a whole different monster. So this month I thought I'd try something a little different. I'd like to introduce you to Pancho and Redbone, a couple of guys I've come to know from the streets and dead-end bars of my digs in San Pedro; two men as different as a fish to a fowl, yet they seem to be the best of friends nonetheless. They too are fans of the rock, just as we are, and both fellas are hideously underemployed so I thought I'd throw a little journalistic bone their way to see what they would do with it. So here you have it friends--Pancho and Redbone's guide to kick-ass rock.

The Bananas

(Pancho)-Great band, man. They're from Sacto and for those not in the know, that's Sacramento, capital of this foolhardy state. The Bananas leave me smiling every time I run into them: Two guys, Mike and Scott, guitar and drums respectively, and Lisa the girl on bass. Mike is the center point of the band--lots and lots of fall down drunkenness on stage, laughing and telling jokes and looking a whole lot like the geeky kid from Fast Times at Ridgemont High. He plays that axe of his straight, no distortion: A real happy-slappy experience is what a Bananas show is like. Same goes for their two CDs, Forbidden Fruit and A Slippery Subject. Sing-along stuff about drinking and dream girls and funny stories, and more songs about drinking.

(Redbone)-- Awwwe Pancho, why didn't ya tell em about how you was pourin' that Columbian Rum in a box down the singer's gullet when we checked 'em out in Berkeley last winter? That's what really matters, man! The Bananas are downright nutso-smasho and Pancho here jes' wants to talk all intellectual about their "sound." But I'll tell you what, my little Mexican compadre was talkin' nothin' about sound or pluggin' their CDs when they showed up down in Santee-Anee and played up a gig at that there Koos Cafe a spell back. He was a whoopin' it up, drunk as a skunk dancin' and gigglin' to the magic those Bananaramas kicked out that night. He's dead-eye correcto when he say's they's great to sing along with though, 'cos I found myself singing my fool head off that night, buddy. Man, I sure hope they's still out on that wild road, lettin' everybody know jes' how it's done. Or hell man, even if they rode that Banana boat back up to Sacramento, and right now are toolin' around the Governor's mansion and what not, I kno w they's rockin' hard at home. I reckon they's still drinkin' and a shootin' up the town (that Lisa's a hellion with a six shooter I hear), and that's jes' what they should be doin', I don't guess.

(Pancho) -- At first I was skeptical about this band and their name, but before the first song was over, I was sold--rock 'n' roll, for reals. Loud and fast rules. Singer is Jared from that metal band Karp, Dave and Quitty on guitars from Behead the Prophet, and so on. First time I saw them it was with that emo-ish band Unwound a few years back. I was completely unprepared for the rock that was to go down that night. A cymbal bashing, tambourine smashing, afro-flipping good time. These guys are from Washington state, Olympia to be exact, and I know of at least a couple CD/LPs and a few 45s/7-inches to their credit. The new CD's called Lend Your Hand, but it lends you more than that. Life will be altogether radder after you experience the Tight Bros.

(Redbone)--Skeptical? Long ass name? Never mind what that Pancho has to say anyway. He's due for a swift kick in his swap meet ass; son' bitch wouldn't know a good time if it came up and knocked his front teeth out. Back to the matter at hand. Them Tight Bros! Now that's an all-out rawkin' bunch a fellas. That Olympia they's comin' from, I'd say that's the land of Sky Blue Waters ain't it? Hamms! They're from the same town as Hamms Beer! Hot damn! Well. it makes enough sense anyhow.

(Pancho) -- So it turns out I got invited to some July 4th party down the street from my house this year. I wasn't gonna go, but shit, there was some bands playing and a bunch of cute girls milling around so what the hell. As usual, old Redbone managed to sniff out the party as well and when I got there he was in fine, fine form. I walked into the front room and there he was, arm and arm with some floozy, splashing booze all over the place and blowing up fireworks in his hands. One of the bands was just getting under way and to my surprise it was The Blacks from Tucson, Arizona. These guys are fucking great! I had seen them before at this very same house last year. They aren't black dudes, but they are extremely fast and evil sounding. On this particular night they sliced through the sulfuric smoke of Redbone's fireworks and disregarded the buckets of beer being dumped upon them to bang out, a demonic mess of a set. I later wound up hanging out with the guys in the band when all was said and done, I had a cop y of their LP CD, Hate You Like Gold, in my hands. This disc is horrendously top notch.