Since Election Day ’16, legions of dissatisfied have taken to streets everywhere, protesting Trump’s ugly racist policies and reacting to the authoritarian-yet-needy/solipsistic timbre in that dude’s deceptive voice. They’re seeking comfort too in the company of the like-minded. Last Saturday, hundreds of Tucson activists and peace seekers gathered to build community solidarity and strengthen movement work, and hell, to just have a good time. It was actually inspiring.

The shady, tree-lined walkways and mown lawns of historic Armory Park set the scene for the 2017 Peace Fair & Music Festival, hosted by Tucson Peace Center. The sights, sounds and aromatic scents of food trucks, face painters, frolicking children and live music wafted through the sun-drenched park for Arizona's largest gathering of Peace, Justice and Environmental groups.

Up on the bandstand entertaining the afternoon crowd─ranging from spry senior citizens to very young children who were rollerskating, dancing and hula-hooping─were Flagstaff’s Navajo pop/punk outfit Sihasin, Tucson’s salsa soulsters Spirit Familia and the local Latin fusion of Santa Pachita.

Jeneda Benally, Sihasin’s singer and bassist, sports an outlook that embodies the spirit of the fest. Note that she, along with her brother Clayson, performed together as Blackfire for 21 years, yet something was missing. “We recognized that although there is a lot to be angry about,” Benally says. “Something in us changed. Where we realized that … What is the legacy that we are leaving for our future generations, if it is one of anger?”

“We need to leave a legacy of hope and love,” Benally adds, “And yes, there are injustices. But you can never lose sight of the hope that each person is in order to create those positive solutions against the injustices.”

When asked what drove them to take part in this year’s festival, Benally says, “We are looking for events that are hopeful, that bring positive energy to communities. That bring people together. It is really important in this day and age that we celebrate our freedoms, that we celebrate music and art. It is so important to support those that are striving to build healthy and respectful communities.”
Sihasin
The band shined as they delivered an energetic set that mixed infectious percussive elements, on top of a bed of pop/punk rock, and native chant with lyrics about “tearing the wall down.” “It doesn't matter what side you are on...”
Spirit Familia
With a brass heavy, percussive laden sound that combines soul, Latin and sounds from the Hawaiian Islands─where founding member Jomo lived for 17 years─the band had the crowd swaying and delivered a message of unity as they called out from the stage, “Let’s get together now…”

Santa Pachita
Drawing their inspiration from salsa, cumbia, rock, ska and bands like Manu Chao. Fronted by bassist/singer Victor Cruz and guitarist/singer Miguel Reyes, Santa Pachita had the audience dancing to their sultry Latin grooves and Reyes’ stinging lead guitar that recalls Carlos Santana, bringing the festival to a close.

Peace, Justice and Environmental groups
Handing out pamphlets and eager to engage in conversations with interested attendees, organizations comprised of community members on the move for change, tabled at the 2017 Peace Fair & Music Festival including: Sustainable Tucson, Black Lives Matter, Code Pink, Healthcare Not Warfare, Green Party, Speak: The Voice for the Rights of Animals, Occupy Tucson, Water is Life, ¡Resistencia! Tucson May 1st Coalition, Veterans For Peace, and many others.

The mighty Zia Records is still taking music submissions from local artists and bands from the Phoenix, Las Vegas and Tucson areas for their annual music compilation. The hard-working Zia Records team (man, are they ever fightin' the good fight) reminds us down here at TW that the record store chain is celebrating 10 years of their local music series this year, and also "10 years of Record Store Day, a multinational celebration of record stores and their unique culture." (Oh how did record stores become "unique"?) As with previous incarnations of said series, comp proceeds will benefit charitable organizations. This year Zia is planning to donate to a roster of animal-centric concerns. Hell, yes!  

Submitting your music is super easy: One way is to drop off a CD of your best music along with a complete submission form at any of nine Zia Record Exchange locations (Vegas, Tucson, Phoenix) between now and Friday, March 6, 2017. All "physical" submissions must be on CD format and you must include a completed submission form.

Zia will also accept digital submissions, but only if a copy of the submission sheet is emailed along with the file to [email protected]. If you are submitting digitally, use Dropbox, WeTransfer, or Bandcamp to submit a WAV, FLAC or other lossless format file that may be too big for regular e-mail. You may also email them MP3 files but they prefer to receive your music in a higher-quality format.

For more info and submission forms, go here.

As we walked into the gates of Wobbleland in (San Jose, Calif.) on a recent Friday I couldn't help but notice the swarm of ravers donning the same trendy merch from their favorite artists: Black “Snails” shirts that have “#VOMITSQUAD” on the back and white images of snails on the sleeves, Japanese lettering and shuriken with “RONIN” on the back of the white Datsik shirts. Then there's all the sacred geometry printed over the black Damascus shirts. The few people who did wear color could be spotted from the back of the venue. Now considering this was a dubstep show and not a psytrance event, it's understandable why there was a lack of color and homemade outfits. But this wasn't the only difference I saw.

At rave in the U.S.—that is, not in Europe—it's common for people to show up with their “squad” and stay with them the whole show. Most of these younger ravers react to the music according to cultural relevance; when a DJ uses politically savvy visuals or pokes fun at modern topics. They jerk their bodies to the nasty vibrations and make stinky faces as their bodies wiggle to the bass-heavy drops.

Last Saturday night (Feb. 25) I went to A-Bun-Dance on Spring Street in Los Angeles and met many folks from Arizona since this event organizer hosts pre-parties for Gem and Jam Fest in Tucson. Here we had a unique blend of handmade outfits and jewelry sold by local merchants and often traded among attendees. The ideas that these crafts have become trendy, and various alterations are sold by many artists, it still comes from a relatively “underground” source instead of an established brand: sparkly hoods connected by a gold chain, or furry canes with crystal balls on top, and, of course, massive amounts of intricately wire-wrapped gems.

The people danced and reacted to each other much more like the European crowds; with grace and flow. Ultimately, I love both scenes (Euro and stateside) equally as they both warmly welcome outsiders and are eager to see each part of the scene grow. At all events I see both crowds intermingling regardless of the differences. We come together to create a community where ideas thrive and humanity as a trait survives. No shit.


*Zion Crosby is Bing Crosby's great-grandson, was raised by Jack Klugman, and Tucson is his new honorary home.

The trepidation and tension is so lovely and palpable it plays like the perfect backdrop to an August monsoon roiling over the Rincon Mountains, darkening slowly all of Tucson. There’s some Southern gothic too, coming on like a debilitating booze relapse, or the devil himself, where it’s so hot “even the birds won’t sing,” and you’re “too tired to make love, but not to fight.” Daniel Lanois would’ve killed for the cinematics here—the rising strings, the guitar and noise drones, the top-shelf reverb. Then Dan Stuart’s whisper-talk lifts and there’s reasonable fear in his tone, but he steers clear of cliché, emphatically singing this defining line: Hector’s out of prison … He’s gone berserk. The enusing strings go mad-house and Stuart's little world has gone berserk. That's when the entire tune hits home, hard.

That one line defines the creepy. There wasn’t a soul who wasn’t afraid of real-life Hector, including this digit, and Dan Stuart, co-writer of this beautifully muted haunt. See, Hector’s an Old Pueblo legend and murderer who terrified teens in the early Tucson punk rock scene—Pearl’s Hurricane Bar, Tumbleweeds and the Night Train. I saw him nearly kill a guy on 4th Ave with his fists once. He got out of prison and this tune—one the five best Tucson songs of all time—came into being. (More on those other songs soon).

*Note that Al Kooper helmed this album (Scapegoat, 1991), and the Tucson-weaned band by this time was down to Dan Stuart and Chuck Prophet. 

Spawning from the potent mixture of sperm and eggs deposited during the mid-’90s at Skrappy’s (an erstwhile downtown Tucson youth collective), “artists like Big Meridox, Jivin' Scientists, and James Ciphurphace were paving the way before I was even there,” says musician/writer/promoter Black One (aka Jaron Ikner) giving props and providing some history about the early days of Tucson’s hip-hop scene.

Black One performed─along with more than 100 acts, rappers, b-boys, emcees, DJs, producers, graffiti artists and educators─this past Saturday night as part of the Tucson Hip Hop Festival 2017, a massive and inclusive celebration founded in 2015 by organizer Pike Romero, presented this year by UA’s College of Humanities’ Africana Studies program and the Rialto Theatre.

“The Hip Hop scene [took off] at Vaudeville Cabaret, then moved to Club Congress, The District Tavern, and now it's at Mr. Head's every second Saturday,” says Black One, adding, “The scene has become much more community-based with more camaraderie and respect amongst artists. My night, Chronicles, was pretty vital. We did that for nine years and featured not only local [hip-hop] artists, but artists from across the country.”

As for the future of Arizona hip-hop, Black One says, “I think that we will always have great artists come out of the Tucson scene. We already have some of the best in the country and that will continue.”

This year’s jam packed Fest offered a full-blown representation of all aspects of hip-hop culture in the Old Pueblo. Here are but a few highlights from the main stage.

Street Blues Family
Delivered a sophisticated chilled-out set─influenced by neo-soul, jazz, and R&B—with melodic saxophone lines, textural keyboards and pristine Telecaster guitar riffs held together by an in-the-pocket rhythm section. Lead singer Reymon Murphy at one point explained to the crowd, “It’s about letting this bullshit go …”

Jaca Zulu
A Tucson transplant, by way of Sacramento, was on fire bouncing off of invisible stage walls—trench-coated!—delivering a slammin’ set thick with raw energy and fierce beats. (By the way, Jaca Zulu’s ’16 EP Signals is available on SoundCloud.)

Marley B
“How many of you enjoy weed in here?” Marley B asked the audience. “I need a smoke break.” “Smoke Break” is a song off his latest album. And smoke he did, in a wicked set joined on stage by Lando Chill, Johnny Redd, Jaca Zulu and Cash Lansky. Marley B is promoting his new album Grow.



Lando Chill
Wearing slender hips, jeans, Lando Chill confidently took the stage. It was effortless. His t-shirt posed timely questions:  “Am I Illegal?” on the front and “How Can You Tell?” on the back.

Shit, Lando Chill is, pretty much, blowing up, cult followings all over this country. And it stands to reason. He had the main stage at 191 Toole literally packed with a diverse audience—from wide-eyed children accompanied by parents to fawning tweens and head-nodding grownups. Chill’s latest, 2016's For Mark, Your Son sizzles.

Murs
Former member of L.A. rap crew Living Legends, which LA Weekly says is "one of the biggest success stories of the indie-rap movement, having sold 300,000 units ... all by them-damn-selves."

His name is an acronym that has had different meanings to the artist at different times: "Making the Universe Recognize and Submit" or "Making Underground Raw Shit,” are just two.

With a career that dates back to the mid 90s, and 22 albums to his credit, Murs hit the stage, in a hoodie, armed only with a laptop and a mic and, basically, as they say, killed it.

The Rhythm and Roots Concert Series is showcasing a variety of folk genres including Americana, blues, bluegrass and Celtic. The series, which gives musicians the space and resources to share their craft, is taking place this week at Hotel Congress with two free shows.

“‘Music is medicine’ is our motto,” says the series director Susan Holden. “Rhythm and Roots wants to bring—especially in this day and age—some healing with music.”

Monday night features a Mardi-Gras-themed party featuring the Carnivaleros. The band pulls from Eastern European sounds, with remnants of old western movies, as well as borrowing from genres like zydeco, waltz and swing. The event starts at 5:30 p.m., with the Carnivaleros on at 7:30.

Don Armstrong with Friends will play on Sunday from 6 to 8 p.m. A longtime, local folk musician, Armstrong spent 42 years performing with his wife Victoria Armstrong until her death in 2014. They recorded nine albums together, empathetic songs that could make you cry or want to hop in your car just to feel wind in your hair. His debut album comes out later this year on Ronstadt Records.

“When you hear his music, it kind of transports you to either where he was when he wrote it or what he was thinking,” Susan says. “He just has his own unique style, and you can hear sort of the history of folk music come through him.”

The concert series was founded in 1996 by Susan’s husband Jonathan Holden. Before his death in 2012, Jonathan brought some big-name folk and blues artists to the Southwest, including Richie Havens, Dave Van Ronk and New Riders of the Purple Sage. Holden was also known for his part in founding Tucson community-radio station KXCI.

With the GOP Congress and Conman-in-Chief looking for ways to eliminate funding for the organization, Planned Parenthood may have never faced a more dire future. Show your support for safe and confidential sexual health care for women and men at the Very Big Show (Of Suppport), featuring a jamboree of fun.

You’ve got circus troupes with Flam Chen and Cirque Roots. You’ve got laughs with cartoonist David Fitzsimmons and Unscrewed Theater. You’ve got music from Desert Voices chorus vocalist Katina Murphy, mariachi performer Diana Olivares and house band Michael P. and the Gullywashers. And to top it off, you’ve got mimes, clowns, jugglers and much more, including an appearance by Tucson Mayor Jonathan Rothschild, who has some experience being the ringleader of a local circus. 7 to 9 p.m. Saturday, March 4. The Rialto Theatre, 318 E. Congress St. Tickets range from $25-$100. More info at rialtotheatre.com.

Writing about Primal Scream is a chore. For one thing, they're a Glasgow band who've done pretty much anything and everything to make their reputation, one that's schizoid to say the least.

After leaving The Jesus and Mary Chain to make Scream a full-throttle effort, Bobby Gillespie and band began a series of post-punk stab's at mid-'80's stardom, hitting on a loud, Stones-Stooges kind of thing.  

Frontman Gillespie has real swagger, practiced or not. Yes, he's a rock star—a dime a dozen, right? 'Cept they ain't a dime a dozen, some got talent, a voice, somethin' to say.

Back to the buildup ... the band sure had a few weird producers who got inside people's heads. The album Screamadelica came out in '91, had big club hits, '60s Peter Fonda nods, etc. It bent lots of ears, I guess. Hell, I wasn't around, but yeah, I get it.

Could be there was vice involved. But a couple loud-ass records more than an almost perfect side; and Euro movie shorts with strange soul—not T.S.O.P. —and it swings backwards like Vanishing Point, damn good stuff.

Now 11 records on in 2016, Primal's The Chaosmosis is a big release in the hour of the locust, yet ... the album cover is that slightly off Gillespie thing, he's still here man. It shows slender bars of I.B.M. colors, the title, and Gillespie in a what appears to be a coon-skinned cap, Daniel Boone shit—er, Fess Parker Jr. actually—the actor who sold me Boone every week in the late '60's. He ain't around for this but I push my scratched glasses up and I swear it's him.

The three-minute "I Can Change" falsetto, on key, with Casio's on chorus, 4/4 groove, nice sound, Euro rock star. This record as a whole, spotty, but it's hard to deny the love. 'Cause you'd be insane to do it otherwise.

My light shines on ... Ha!

The first marijuana cigarette I ever saw rolled was in the inner fold of a terrible Grand Funk compilation called Mark, Mel & Don, or was it Mark, Don, Mel? They were Flint, Michigan’s finest, and had nothing to do with Detroit's Motown or The MC5/Stooges trip. Nope, these three hooked up with manager, singer, producer, Beatles hanger-on, moneyman Terry Knight who did get them a deal with Capitol Records in late ’69, where they began making a bunch of fairly shitty records with a redeeming single now and again, including "Footstompin' Music" and "I'm Your Captain," and even had a great album cover for 1971’s Survival, that showed them shirtless, chewin' on some dinosaur bones. (That same year they sold out Shea Stadium faster than The Beatles, with no press, only "underground" FM radio play and word of mouth.)

It was arena-rock in its infancy, but so plodding and a feel like the engineer had swallowed his weight in Seconal and Hamm's beer. But their fans were not as picky and followed them down the road to stardom. Grand Funk were always a fave for critics to bash.

Well, as the wheels of both rock ’n’ roll turned, in ’72 Mark, Don, Mel fired Mr. Knight and lawsuits ensued. But then something very smart happened. Todd Rundgren was the flavor of the year for his mad studio skills and songwriting acumen, plus he was hip, young, eccentric, and, as some would sa y, a maverick. They gave the status quo to him for a new way of getting things done. The end result? The We're An American Band LP.

The album came in kickass yellow vinyl, and gnarly quadraphonic 8-track tapes. A brand! It sported a shiny golden cover, with just the name in black letters. The inner fold showed long-haired rock group nude (now a four-piece with an added keyboard player Craig Frost), laying in a barn of straw—red, white and blue stickers with their finger logo.

The title song (written and sung by drummer Don Brewer) managed to preserve the old guard while reaching a whole new audience. With dangerous whacks of a cowbell, and that wicked drum-fill of a perfect rock ’n’ roll hit, and guitars sending age-old chills up the neck—what unfolds is a little singsong diary of a debauched dream few will ever know. But the song invites us in for a taste, no irony at all. And that’s what makes it an incredible time piece—no irony.

Lear jets, hotel rooms, groupies, adulation, a sonic moment on every radio station: Up all night with Freddy King/I got to tell you/Poker’s his thing/Booze and ladies keep me right/As long as we can make it to the show tonight … Were an American Band Yeah, what lyrics! Every vocal strong, the lead guitar sounds like Rundgren took a pass, all the while the organ just filling the cocktail up.
This wasn't a washed-up hippie band, this was the most accessible, creative record they’d ever done, or would do. The single topped out the American pop charts at numero uno.

Back in the day I bought that record and loved it, I think now how in '73 at some roller-rink anywhere in the U.S. of A ... Two kids must a been skating, hands held, backwards, mouthing the chorus and forgetting where they were for four minuets.

Live:

A history lesson: By definition, Burlesque is a literary, dramatic or musical work meant to humor, and challenge by it’s ludicrous treatment of subject matter. The word derives from the Italian word burlesco, meaning a joke, ridicule or mockery, popularized during the Victorian era ... like any great art it was reactionary and had some sexual tension.

Said art form has grown from the ribald of Lysistrata to neo-burlesque—a subtype that allows the performer to use their bodies and costumes to deliver a political or social statement.

Today's burlesque has a wider arc. Encompassing a range of performance styles. From the Folies Bergeres and the Moulin Rouge, the classic tease of vedette Gypsy Rose Lee to the contemporary hussy-glam of Dita Von Teese, the latest in a line of great performers spanning centuries, and everything imaginable in between.

OK ...

And so it was, last Thursday night at the Rialto Theater when a conglomeration of revelers gathered to celebrate the 11th Anniversary of Black Cherry Burlesque, Tucson’s longest running burlesque show.

The “sometimes outrageous and always entertaining” host, drag queen Natalia Flores, prepped the enthusiastic audience by leading them in a call and response—“Shit, Goddamn …” —at various points throughout the show, providing numerous moments of unadulterated comedic repartee, before welcoming to the stage, one-by-one, the evening’s performers: Molly Teasely, Ms. Midnight, The Big Bang McGillicuddy, Kitty Catatonic, Fiametta Mink, Kitten Minx La Femme, Scarlotta Sparkle, Bunny Boom Boom and Lola Torch. 

Moments of elegance and beauty—when a graceful dancer glided upon the resplendently lit stage costumed with the incandescent wings of an angel—were tempered with those of hilarity. As when a vivacious performer finished her act by igniting her twirling pasties, Flores quipped, “Shit, this bitch just set her titties on fire,” adding, while twisting a lock of curly hair around her fingers, “There is so much hairspray in this shit...poof!”

Black Cherry started as a troupe run by Inga Kaboom and Stephka Von Snatch after Kaboom saw a traveling burlesque show and was inspired to create a show based here in Tucson. The burgeoning troupe performed almost exclusively at The Surly Wench (on Tucson's 4th Avenue), but has evolved a lot over the years. Torch (née, Emilie Marchand), Black Cherry Burlesque’s producer/president, says, “We currently operate as a production company [and] strive to offer a platform for burlesque artists of all types and backgrounds to express themselves without censorship. We encourage people to tell a story using this art form .. to really connect with the audience in a unique way.”

With a background in music, theater and modern/interpretive dance, Torch adds, “I'm very influenced by Weimar era cabaret and old movies featuring Marlene Dietrich. That's what motivated me when I first started burlesque. But my influences outside of that are varied. Everything from Bob Fosse to PJ Harvey. I love old movies and musicals, punk rock, ballet … Honestly, I'm influenced by anything that really moves me and that comes from so many places.”

Over the years, Black Cherry Burlesque has shared the stage with local musicians and DJ's and burlesque performers of note: Satan's Angel, La Cholita, Miss Astrid, Scotty The Blue Bunny.

As for the future, “We currently only perform at The Rialto and 191 Toole but we'd like to travel more,” Torch says.

Black Cherry Burlesque lit the stage with dazzling artistry, sultry acts, slamming music and moments of social consciousness, and provided the audience with an unforgettable party to commemorate the occasion.

“An all around great time!” Torch says. But of course.