Last Sunday night was full of curious eyes and open ears. People crowded around Miranda Worthington's sculptures of decaying humans while swaying to the folk melodies of Dani Boi. The Exbats drew in a crowd with their two-piece band. WTF AF is a monthly show hosted by Club Congress dedicated to creating a safe space for voices of the women, trans, and femme (WTF) community.

Local Boi performed a raw solo, singing sweet nothings about growing up and falling in love to the gentle strumming of her guitar. Pinon, Arizona's The Exbats rocked the stage next. The daughter of the Exbats' Inez McLain held down both drums and vocals. Dad Ken McLain was riffing on guitar and vocals. The duo remined of early California punk rock, and pop, like the Simpletones.

Phoenix band Jade Helm raged after Exbats. The punk band heaved and thrashed their instruments throughout their set. Blood pressure rose.

Art was showcased on the side of the venue. Rose Clements had her zine Concealer, which explores femme identity through the contents of people's bags.

Miranda Worthington showcased her hauntingly beautiful sculptures full of insects, copper and decaying human skulls and skeletons.

The venue wasn't packed which allowed free movement to appreciate the art and easy access to the artists. People from multiple backgrounds were pulled together by art, literature, folk and punk; individuals true to themselves, and supported by their community.

"There's a reason why we don't have a stage, there's a reason why there's 360 degrees of movement, there's a reason why we're eye-level. It's cause we are all the same." Lando Chill spoke slowly to the crowd so that they absorbed every word.

Lando Chill and Altrice hosted an album release show for his sophomore album The Boy Who Spoke to the Wind Saturday, June 24. Chill addressed imperfections of humanity by weaving it into his poetry and songs. Chill spoke on the issues like oppression of people of color, women empowerment and his experiences as a young black man. 

Altrice opened the show nodding to pop hip-hop rulers like Kendrick Lamar and Bryson Tiller, and mixed high-distortion vocal samples and with mellow sounds. People head-nodded to the beats as they strolled in.

Then it was time to Chill: "I want to you to be with me as I am with you." The audience crowded around the floor of lights. Chill Looked into every eye looking at him.  His state-of-mind shifted song to song, and he raised his fist and howled at the top of his lugs in frustration during one song, then serenaded and danced into tranquility in the next. Chill shared experiences and epiphanies, particularly those that lead to the making of his album:

"We were in Madera Canyon creating music. In the morning I went up to the mountain 'cause I had to check my twitter. So I would get up before everyone else and climb this mountain every morning. It was how I got reception, but one morning I realized that I actually went up on this mountain blocking myself from what was really important. The bugs were buzzing and the wind was blowing and the birds were chirping and nature was doing its thing. Of course that is what it does everyday but you see today is special, that day was special, everyday is special. There is an awareness we have when we realize we are one with everything around us. In that moment I realized I was one with the wind, the mountains, the leaves, the bugs, and the birds on that hot morning. I sat down with my copy of The Alchemist, and I wrote. I wrote my own story, my own personal legend, my own path. In writing that, I ended up writing The Boy Who Spoke to the Wind."

After an eight-month hiatus, The Resonars return to the stage, stoked. The Weekly caught up with tunesmith and knob-twirler Matt Rendon over fish tacos.

The Resonars performed last in Tucson at The Night of the Living Fest back in October where the band rocked a set of trademark ’60s-influenced psych and beautifully calibrated pop, to a raucous crowd.

The Resonars are playing “Che’s and Bar Passé to get gas money,” along with comrades Flight Thirteen (yes, named after the old Dearly Beloved song), before embarking on a whirlwind tour with gigs in L.A., San Pedro and Oakland, California. They’ll be performing tunes from their ear-bending Burger Records releases Crummy Desert Sound and That Evil Drone. This time out The Resonars lineup includes mainstay drummer Johnnie Rinehart and two pistols from Flight Thirteen: Guitarist Andy Puig and bassist Nate Gutierrez. Rendon says of the shows enthusiastically between bites, “It’s going to be super cool. A stripped down, more punk rock Resonars.”

Catch The Return of The Resonars with Flight Thirteen this Saturday June 24 at Che’s Lounge, 350 N. 4th Avenue, 10 p.m. 21+. Free. And Monday June 26 at Bar Passé, 417 N. 4th Avenue, 10 p.m. 21+. Free.

Little Esther Mae Jones was born in Galveston, Texas. Her folks' early divorce saw her to bounce between Texas and Watts, California.

She'd discovered early on that music was one thing that couldn't be taken from her. It stuck to her ribs. Just listen to her first hit record—a 1950 orchestral take on Johnny Otis's "Double Crossing Blues"— it's one of the earliest examples of her top-heavy vocals.

Her Savoy label put out four singles, among them "Mistrusting Blues" and "Cupid’s Boogie." She'd soon leave her "Little" moniker behind and forge ahead as Esther Phillips. She was a now stylist in the studio, one who could hold back just enough to deliver the goods, with a tender, emotive street heart. The voice was, unmistakably, all hers.


For the next decade, she walked with ghosts—cold, afraid, trying not to succumb to dismissive re-plays of successes gone by. It was now time for Phillips to harvest whatever was left of a dying dream.

Esther penned some 40 songs, and in that bloodletting—a performer's bread and butter—she hit one home run with a number called “Ring-a-Ding-Doo” (and I can only guess that it may have been a lesser favorite then the other 39 songs).

But enter the '70s with it's urban renewal and open-air drug markets, which changed the sound on the material being written by new masters like Gil Scott-Heron. In fact, Scott-Heron's monster song, "Home Is Where The Hatred Is,” very likely spoke to Ms. Phillips' dream to take a perfect song and make it her own. In 1972, Phillips recorded one of several albums for Kudo Records, first was From a Whisper to a Scream, featuring her cover "Home ..." (Aretha Franklin won the Grammy for Best R&B Vocal Performance and said the award should've gone to Phillips and her From a Whisper album.)

On a recent Thursday night on the outdoor patio of H2O, drag queens in stiletto heels towered over showgoers and divas strutted in sequined gowns. LGBTQ and cis-gendered people gathered for Tora Woloshin's opening act. Woloshin hosted an event called Culture Shock to fight against prejudice by showcasing different cultures. The majority of acts were people of color and LGBTQ performers. Woloshin opened and closed the show, singing and dancing some of todays most distinguishable pop songs.


Flight School Acro, was up next. A yoga mat was placed on the ground and the acrobatic duo went straight into their routine. The two transitioned smoothly into difficult acrobatic yoga poses and made handstands and planks look easy, never off balance or struggling to complete their poses.

Seasoned burlesque performer Matt Finish began his act wearing but a shimmering gold robe which eventually came off. Finish's explicit routine was filled with and tease (flashes of his butt cheeks, indeed). The burlesquer taunted audience members in nipple tassels and a shiny banana hammock, and went down to perfect full splits while half naked! He controlled the entire room, kept the crowd on edge and a little uncomfortable.

Lip-sync performer Mama made her entrance emerging from the ladies bathroom covered in toilet paper. Her cheeky performance sort of defined the very idea of a drama queen. MC and lip-sync performer Jenna DuMay heckled the crowd when they were less than thrilled about waiting more than an hour for the show to begin. She called us "emo kids" cause we said "yass queen" with lacking enthusiasm. It was great.

Kehlani had an intimate show at the Rialto Theatre last Monday. The R&B singer was not accompanied by her usual two dancers but was instead serenaded, and gave words of encouragement, to fans throughout the show.  JAHKOY, Ella Mai, and Noodles opened Kehlani's SweetSexySavage Tour with performances that amped up the excitement.


JAHKOY opened. People didn't know the words but they still let loose to his songs. His smooth vocals blended with trap beats that made girls scream (yes, girls screamed!). The Toronto singer lifted the energy in the room, dancing and playing with the audience. It helped that he showed his Tucson pride by wearing a UA tee.


Ella Mai was up next. The mood transitioned from hype to relaxed. People were more familiar with her, singing along to each song. The London R&B singer didn't dance and interact with the crowd as much as the previous act. She let her melodic vocals carry her set.

In the last days of summer '09, Noel Gallagher, chief songwriter and guitarist of Manchester malcontents Oasis, had had enough. Alongside his singer bro Liam, Noel had ridden Oasis success far beyond what a working-class kid could imagine. He was done sparring with the press, with band management, and, most of all, his younger bro. Those fights became legendary, rituals of emotional and legal entanglements.

Their sound had been wrapped round the Union Jack, guitar-driven anthems that drew from The Beatles, with mid-tempo kick and snare, rolling tom-toms, and hung on hooks that brought karaoke to football stadiums. The bashers were loud, glam-tinged, and Liam’s undeniable voice carried more than a passing taste of Johnny Rotten at the end of each line. He'd lock his hand behind his back, wear a hoodie bearing the name some Manchester soccer club, and glorious stompers like "Rock and Roll Star" and "Cigarettes and Alcohol" had enough attitude to sway the boys and the girls, the men and the women, who followed the band everywhere. The entire catalog of Noel’s songs, most sung by Liam, even now belong to fans and not to the smug, opinionated, yet good-natured and damn funny eldest bro.

It's time for all the punks, the rap spitters, the jazz messengers, the acoustic alchemists, the singer-songwriters, the metalheads, the R&B crooners, EDM naval-gazers, the countrified outlaws and the indie stalwarts and all you purveyors of organized noise—er, musicians—to enter The Local Showdown.

In the spirit of overcoming Old Pueblo summertime desolation and its literal and metaphorical dust, join venerable institution The Rock and Tucson Weekly for what we're calling the First Annual Local Showdown. Check it, we’ve extended the submission date to June 22. So enter your act now to strut it out on a worthy stage, where, um, "Legends are Made,” with pro sound and lights to back you up. When all's said and done, you might just blastoff a launchpad of total greatness.

The Local Showdown is a summer-long showcase─”a killer kinda Battle of the Bands contest,” if you will─where local bands/musicians, from all genres and ages, battle it out before a panel of music aficionados to decide a winner.

At the end of the contest those who prevail reap spoils. Prizes include: A feature story in Tucson Weekly, professional studio recording & music video shoot (for a single), merch & marketing packages and a mini-tour (plus gas/food cards). Not to mention bragging rights.

The Showdown kicks off June 30 with subsequent rounds on July 8 & 22, Aug. 5 with semi-finals on Aug. 19. Finals will be held Sept. 9.

To enter into the competition simply submit a video or audio link (YouTube, SoundCloud, bandcamp, etc.) by June 22 to [email protected]. Only the first 150 submissions will be accepted.

Pre-sale tickets are $6 (with a cut to the bands). $8 at the door. All events to be held at The Rock, 136 N. Park Avenue, (520) 629-9211. Shows start at 6 p.m.

Was a slow Sunday night on 4th Avenue. Most of the shops were shuttered as party goers migrated to Congress Street. The green butt cheeks illuminated above the Flycatcher was enough incentive to stop and go inside. Good thing.


Tucson's B4Skin was a clever, funny, flirty, punked-up girl group who flaunted hero costumes and incorporated swinging nunchucks and trampoline bouncing into their show. They were saucy too, booty patting and playing with each others hair.

Then the stage was cleared and a small table with a single beat machine was placed in its center. A guy in a t-shirt with a striped sock over his head and glasses strolled on stage, like some Adult Swim commercial. Dadsdad grooved to his live-mixed beats. His techno beats were banging, and naturally attracted eccentrics. A group of guys formed a circle outside on the sidewalk and danced. Funny as hell.

Oakland, California's Planet Booty kicked its show open with some funk-pop. Their music sounded like a mixture of Bruno Mars and LMFAO—funky groovy playful pop, y'all. The trio energized the crowd like pros. The audience danced, unable to keep their asses in seats. Singers Josh Cantero and Dylan Germick hypnotized; when the latter body rolled, the crowd body rolled.

Wallflowers and dance machines let loose on the dance floor. If you weren't dancing, then you weren't there. The show was fun, entertaining and free. 

Tommy Bolin was a blistering guitar player who had mastered everything from '70s boogie rock to jazz fusion with real grace. He was an up and comer with a reputation and a personality, and he looked like a rock 'n' roll star, a chick magnet with feathers in his hair. He was an easy fit for sessions or band scenarios.

(His ear-bending work on drummer Billy Cobham's '73 album Spectrum was appreciated by his peers and fans of fusion.)

Quick backstory: Bolin moved from Sioux City, Iowa to Boulder, Colo. in his teens. He pieced together a pretty spectacular bar band called Zephyr that signed to a major label and with him put out two albums, both collectable now. In a seemingly odd pairing, James Gang hired Bolin (post Joe Walsh) and he appeared on their last two albums, which are underrated and both worth seeking out. Bang came in '73, and featured FM staples "Must Be Love" and Bolin's "Alexis." Miami came the next year. Bolin's strong-yet-tasteful playing and songwriting boosted the band and those albums.
He soon quit the James Gang and signed a solo deal with Nemperor records. His debut, Teaser, showcased him as a guitar hero with soulful range and heady songwriting chops. With help from his muso pals David Sanborn and Jan Hammer, among others, the album captured a funky, edgy sound. It really found him rising above the fray of the typical guitarist-for-hire who couldn't write music that moved people. It showed Bolin to be much more than some youthful virtuoso who traded in notes and riffs instead ideas and soul.  

A true Teaser diamond is its opener "People People," a reggae-tinged welcome to the listener. It's filled with musical intricacies and simple touching lyrics that are natural and rhythmic. A muscular saxophone wails inside the mix and drums and percussion clash about the chorus. Bolin croons and scats between the beat and his confidence is infectious. Teaser is Bolin's high-water mark, still sounds tough today.

He'd also join Deep Purple to fill Ritchie Blackmore's shoes—a feather in his cap he couldn't refuse because for whatever reason guitar slingers had to prove themselves a cut way above the rest.
He'd last one album with the Purple (the underwhelming Come Taste the Band). He regrouped to record his second and final album, Private Eyes, which featured the mighty "Poast Toastee" and other FM-radio staples. Sadly Tommy Bolin died in '76 of a drug overdose as he was fighting to hone his craft and stay alive.

Tommy Bolin remains a studied player not only because he was frighteningly good at a tender age, but also because he was a total original.