Michigan Indie Review

The Monsters of Grrl Rock will chew you up and spit your out - with their merchandising alone! story by mitch phillips Club Bart, Ferndale Saturday, October 6, 2000 review by mitch phillips Broadzilla at Club Bart? Seems like an unlikely spot to catch a band hyped as the punk/metal monsters or Grrrrl Rock, but a cozy opportunity for me to catch this act for the first time. Club Bart, if you haven't been there, is more of a Woodward dinner bar that lets it's hair down once the gallery tourists have SUV'd back to the burbs. And it's sma..., er, I mean "intimate." I'd trucked down here a couple of time's before to catch an open mike night for a mixed bag of poetry, the acapella lounge stylings of Taria and at least one appearance by Bob the Singing Bass Player. But Broadzilla? I had to show up just to see if they'd shoot chunks of plate glass across the Woodward median. Napoleon K and I chew a couple Vikes for mood and arrive early as The Bo...

Killbilly's & Twistin Tarantulas at the Token Lounge "Punk-a-billy rockers throttle local reigning kings of swing" Token Lounge Killbillys/Twistin'Tarantulas Saturday, April 29, 2000 review by mitch phillips Who'd have thought rockabilly virtuosos, "The Twistin'Tarantulas" could be TKO'd on their own turf and in their own genre? But that's exactly what happened at the Token Lounge's Room #2 when warm-up surprise "The Killbillys" sucker-punched the kings of swing and wowed the crowd with their psychobilly siezures. There wasn't a still foot in the outhouse while this band dominated the stage with their unique brand of Ethel-pumpin' cow-punk. True, The Tarantulas tend to be more traditional, rockabilly with a hearty dose of upright bass - something the Killbilly's lack if only for its aesthetic value. But even the untouchable double-bass talent of "Pistol" Pete Midtgard and his infectious plank spankin...

...in which the drummer rescues the reviewer from the Men's Room in time to enjoy their debut. review by mitch phillips Saturday, March 11, 2000 Early I was there early enough to hear the pink-noise check bounce off the rustic brick. Early enough to see Tribal Traktion merchandise pulled from cardboard boxes and pinned to a makeshift wall in full white light. Too damn early. But I didn't want to make the same mistake in Pontiac that I made weeks ago in Ann Arbor. If you don't get to Ann Arbor before eight on a weekend you may as well turn around and head for home because you won't be able to bribe your way into a parking space. New Pontiac didn't disappoint me. It was the usual ritual - drive south on Saginaw until the guys in the parking garage wave you away, pull a "U"ey and head for greener pastures North of M59. Same damn thing every time. I was even there too early to enjoy saying, "I'm on the guest list" while moving past the door...