Thoughts on Hurricane Katrina - By N.L. Belardes

I would not be a good person if I kept writing blogs and ignored what’s happening in the American South over the past several days. I am just as surprised as everyone at the devastation from Hurricane Katrina. I’ve only passed through New Orleans and the South. Some of the folks where I work are from the South as well as the company I work for deals with distributors from the area. Now the distributors are missing...

Historically, New Orleans has been a city of wars, pestilence and great devastation. The Battle of New Orleans is a famous American vs. British tale of death, as well as Civil War stories... American slavery ran rampant there. People to this day rent old renovated slave quarters as New Orleans once had an incredible urban slave population. A lot of people who haven’t studied slave history would find some really interesting tales in how many urban slaves led some incredible secret night lives while supposedly catering to a master’s needs during the day...

One of my good friends used to go to the university in New Orleans. Later he attended graduate school with me at CSU Bakersfield where he wrote a major study of outbreaks of yellow fever in New Orleans around 1853 using original source material. Whereas I studied Philadelphia outbreaks in the 1790s, he was transfixed on New Orleans, a city ravaged by pestilence in a mosquito-borne outbreak of such a devastating hemorrhagic fever.

This was at a time folks didn’t realize the cause of the fever was mosquitoes feeding off infected blood, biting other humans, and spreading the infliction like wildfire…

Now death, disease and pestilence in New Orleans has the potential to reach terrible new levels because of such a vast population remaining in the city without water and electricity. Although reminiscent of yellow fever outbreaks that drove the city to abandon its locale, this new exodus is incredibly debilitating and horrible to watch...

Just read this blog by someone from New Orleans who survived while floating in a car. The survivor is holed up in some hotel, and I imagine, in a daze, is recounting the days leading up to Hurricane Katrina… reports indicate thousands are dead…there are many blogs on the aftermath of this disaster...here is another from a survivor in Florida...

webmaster needed-good pay

The high-tech industry job I work during the day needs either a full-time or part-time webmaster. Must have experience with programming and coding! send me a resume, email, or smoke signal.

-n.l.

The Hobbit needs your music! - By N.L. Belardes

Kevin Lively sent me an email about needing some great local music for The Hobbit...

Hey boss,

I was hoping that you could get the word out to local musicians that I'm looking for music for my show. All genres. Either original, or if they already have stuff that might work they can send it my way. Has to be clean, since it is a family show.

I'm especially looking for a band to do a cover of this song I found online. It's soooo horrible it's glorious, it's just screaming for a punk cover.

http://www.myprecious.us/ballad_of_bilbo_baggins.php

If someone has some music or wants more info, have them either call me 319-8227 or email here. Thehobbitbct@yahoo.com

Groovy,

Kevin

Literary characters materialize at the Dim Revival - By N.L. Belardes

If you think you’re just going to read about Dim, you’re about to read the wrong article. Go somewhere else. Pack up your bags and exit the site. Go pay your five bucks and read the K Chronicles on Salon.com. Otherwise, go grab a taco salad and stay; you’re about to read a long story, one filled with drama and literary rantings that are as warped and wrapped with novels, intrigue, music yesteryear and ghostly tales as you will ever read from me...

Friday night I entered Fishlips in one of the strangest nights I’ve ever had in the Bakersfield music scene. Why? What could possibly have been so crazy? When music meets literary characters and strange conversations in one of the most exalted literary evenings I could ever imagine, it can’t help but be strange. Never before had so many associations with so many works of N.L. Belardes literary endeavors shown up in the same room. The oddity? I was the only one who knew it…

I’m talking a decade’s worth of an assortment of characters and minor characters in N.L. Belardes novels and poems who all somehow collectively intertwined right in the same building on a historic night of literary memories. The Citrus Girl circa 1998, Thick White Crust circa 2003, Country Songs to Live By circa 2001… a bunch of unpublished works with connection points on a night of music grown from Bakersfield yesteryear…

This was the night of the Dim reunion show. Ramon and Missy Barajas and company had come up from the California coastal lands of the distant south to see if their music could make a resurgence out in the dry Bakersfield bayou. Yes, for those of you kids who don’t know, Bakersfield used to be a swamp. You used to be able to canoe from Bakersfield to San Francisco. Tell me that ghosts aren’t in swamps. Tell me the ghost hunters of Oleander don’t hear squishy footsteps in the dark. I’ve seen old bayou horror movies and they’re as creepy as hell… but back to my story…



Matt Munoz and I had talked about Dim playing in Bakersfield again. They had been broken up for years. Matt was overjoyed to even mention the idea. He claimed he had the thought up his sleeve for some time. I was all for it, so I offered to make a flyer and provide emotional support. Of course I am old school Dim, from way back before they canned their drummer and bass player in the mid-90s. So many stories had gone around then—I think it was 1996. Rob Ruiz was their drummer. He later became a minor character named Pedro in the Bakersfield book, The Citrus Girl. He was the guy I had been hanging out with in the parking lot of Showbiz Pizza back in the Big Hair 80s. His buddy’s trunk was open wide so you could hear his speakers as he said, “You haven’t heard this? You gotta hear this…” He stood with his backpack on—drumsticks poking out—and tapped his fingers on the hood of the car while “Shadows and Tall Trees” by U2 played. It was around 1983 or 1984. I had never heard Boy. Ruiz, he was just well versed on the matter… He hung out with a group that included a bunch of Dead Generation do-nothings that included myself, a red-headed guy with no rhythm, a drop-out relation of mine, a one-time electronics thief, a pretentious tennis star, a geek, a janitor, a Big Gulp guzzler and a few other guys here and there… there were no chicks in this group. We weren’t good enough to get any; well, except for the tennis star. And most of us frequented Andy Noise Records. Later that group included a lonely philosopher, a meek guitarist and some others…

A few years later Rob Ruiz got into the band Jumping Trains. They were like Toad the Wet Sprocket, like an REM folk-rock band, only more exciting vocally than Michael Stipe’s help-me-I’m-dying vocals. That was the early to mid 1990s. Ruiz helped create the jangle-pop sound of that band with his killer off-time drumbeats. He threw it all away to play in Dim.

Dumping the Jumping Trains band was to no avail because Ruiz was a beer guzzling shleprock who happened to have a hell of a drumming technique though he never held a regular job. And I think his slacker generation habits became a bad combination for what Dim wanted/needed in a drummer, because that meant he depended on them for money and transportation. His beer drinking got the best of him and soon enough he was out of the band and went home where I hear he still is to this day: hiding out, dreaming of the bands of Bakersfield yesteryear like Jumping Trains and Dim, and wishing he had done something different along the way. He probably still asks himself: when Van Halen scouted him at a young age, what had he really done to nurture his musicianship? (At least I think it was Van Halen. I’m going by distant memory here). In one of my last calls to him he said, “I’m learning how to play bass…” That was a couple of years ago.

A few weeks after he was fired from Dim I remember sitting in the old Swing Café where TJ Maxwells is now. Rob Ruiz had been canned from the band and was sitting inside at the bar with The Citrus Gal, lonely philosopher (now a lawyer), the janitor, and the meek guitarist. The just released Dim CD started to play over the sound system. They had canned him right after its release. I had gone to the CD release party… all I remember is a gay artist, the citrus girl loving on me, lots of people and champagne. Rob was on all the recordings and so when he heard the music begin to play he about lost it, he was so disgusted. “I can’t believe they’re playing that in here. I’m on that album!” That was one of the last times I saw him. I called him a few times when I got back to town in 2001; but he was horrible at returning phone calls and I got tired of trying to keep in touch.

The old bass player, Heath—you can still see him over at Pizzaville USA on Oak Street. I talk to him once in a while and he throws me a free soda now and then for good times sake.

The ‘new Dim’, which is really an ‘old Dim’ and part of the tribute night last Friday night, was never what the original Dim was to me. Even though I couldn’t wait to see them, I remember their edge had gone for me a long time ago. Why? The questions circulated eight or so years ago: Had Ramon Barajas sold out to stardom by dumping old band mates for more aesthetically pleasing-to-the-eye musician folks? Or were these other members just not cutting it? Where was Dim headed that they needed to change out two of its members in such a jiffy? It wasn’t long after that I left Bakersfield and went to work on a novel in the great hinterlands of Ohio where the Hopewell Indian culture once flourished, and then for an animation company: new times, new places, new people to meet and adventures to be had. I soon lost sight of Dim. That whole episode became a music-filled episodic memory that I was to work into a 384-page novel. Only a few people have read about Bakersfield in the mid-1990s through my eyes in The Citrus Girl, a story about counterculture love in Bakersfield, about my own dim moments crossing the country in a beat car; it’s a story that encompasses a confusing time—unanswerable even in the self-exploratory path of literary complexity—where I wonder about what I was to call a generation of “MTV-sucked rebellious youth.” That’s pure literary philosophy, man, and I take you far beyond music-writing and the surface of Dim as I explore the ideation of an entire Bakersfield generation in a case study of malaise-infected youth, a generation of kids who didn’t have the united feelings of impending doom that most American generations had. See, most American generations bond and survive through endless American wars upon wars… But in the Big 80s the Cold War was wrapping up…it wasn’t a violent war of generational upheaval like Vietnam, Korea, WWII, or WWI… you see, kids still have to rebel against something, even if it is propelled by MTV. All of that’s explained in the Citrus Girl, a case study of my generation…

Enter Fishlips, the land of the Fish Fry. A half an hour before Dim and Mento Buru were to play I saw a girl sitting by herself at one of the tables. Boy, had fate turned a trick. It was a gal who I knew from living in the Huntridge Arts district in Las Vegas. I didn’t really know her, but she lived two houses down from me and was the close friend of a crazed artist I knew. So I knew of her, had seen her at parties, had heard the tales of her woeful life. This artist guy who I worked with, who lived with her, was into collecting the macabre...

Our job as artists was to create art for the downtown Las Vegas Big Top Show, The Fremont Street Experience, that 4.5 block long vault of lights that I would sit around and think kooky ideas for. I was the storyboard artist and creative writer. He was one of a few animation artists. But he had a self-serving vendetta against society, so he would think up ways to infect the audience with his dark brand of mythology in a sun-lit stream of cartoony moments reflecting his hidden world of the macabre. It was all so subtle. He would sit up all night in his Freakling Brothers T-shirt and I would come in the next morning to work and there he would be sitting, creating 3-D characters using 3-D Studio Max, with his eyes all bloodshot and his fingers all pudgy on the mouse. Thank god there was free food in the casinos and a boss who let us all play games to fire our creative juices.

This long-haired fair-skinned gal I saw at the Fish Fry was the main title holder of the house she rented. She drove an old Studebaker truck and listened to rockabilly and hung out with artists who dug alternative country music. The disgusting part? The artist I knew was so into his dark life that she allowed him to keep jars of dead babies on their living room shelves. Don’t ask me how he got them. I thought they were movie props until he told me what they really were. “Great movie props,” I said, grabbing one. He told me otherwise and I never returned to that house.

And then I came back to Bakersfield on September 12, 2001 and one day turned on the TV. And there she was… smiling… talking… and me, thinking, There’s the lady who had dead babies on her shelf she’s now a Bakersfield newscaster? I stopped watching the morning news because of the dead baby lady. I figured one day I would run into her or I would just email the TV station in disgust and write, “Will you take the dead baby lady off the air so I can eat my morning breakfast in peace?”

I approached her at Fishlips. “Hi, are you *************? I knew you in Las Vegas. You never remembered me every time I met you, but I remember you.” She didn’t. She was a lonely depressed soul in Las Vegas, wrapped up in her latest men, so she ignored all the rest, even if you weren’t after her; and you could see in her eyes, her feeling lost, as she often just sat on her couch in a fog. And every time I met her, whether at her house, or at a party, she would always say, “Have we met before??” She would remember me this time. I would see to that. Call me bad but I was out to embarrass her.

I had walked up. She looked confused. I was expecting that.

“Yes, I am,” she replied with the have-we-met-before stage-grimace on her face.

“Yes, and I’ve been to your house in downtown Las Vegas. If there’s one person who knows about you in Bakersfield, it’s me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I know they weren’t yours, but I was always so disgusted that you allowed dead babies to line your living room shelves.”

She played me off as nostalgia, as a joke of sorts. But I could sense the horror she felt that someone knew a hint of her dark secrets. Because, even if she wasn’t responsible for putting those dead babies on the living room shelves, it was her house. “Oh, do you still talk to *****?” she said with the same fake smile I had seen on TV.

I mentioned that I did hear from him in the past few months. He had found my website and emailed me. I told her that he was going to graduate school in Georgia. I didn’t admit to knowing much more than that although there’s more that I might share another time… Soon her boyfriend walked up. He resembled like the guy she dated in Las Vegas: dark hair, Latino, domineering... He looked at me with a contemptuous pouty lip and whisked her off to play pool.



Oh that artist I worked with. He was just as crazy and in love with some girl who would never have him. Here’s a few poems from Country Songs to Live By. These poems illuminate where I lived near Gass and 3rd Street, the mad artist, and the Fremont Street canopy of lights:

The Mad City of Lights

1.

From Gass and 3rd Street I can see the daylight vault.
—silver machinery sky stretches between buildings,
right over the Christmas cone—plastic cone.
Night time lights hang on the tree smell of desert winds.
Grit blows through the immigrant city filter,
brings life to Gass and 3rd.

In the morning I walk to work.
The same wind sneaks through brown grass,
around trees—dead, and still gritty,
same as the first month of walking toward the metal sky.
At night again, Gass and 3rd hides a little brown desert house,
tucked away, stuffed palm inside a wide open
carpet vista to nowhere:
high priced desert land; the same land thirty miles away,
—far from the machinery,
far from the citrus valley.



From Here to There

4.

Suicide coffee, it's black dirt in Ken's glass.
Enigma, a café—Adam and Eve garden,
on crack, sitting and laughing,
talking about art and writing in their
free-thinking desert garden,
free-thinking depressed,
free-thinking still depressed,
and starry glaze eye of Artemis, mythological—no logic,
poverty-stricken, still no logic,
just dead generation virtuous in sleep,
in old thrift clothes and hateful.
Hateful of themselves with drug induced passion,
as their thoughts aren't even yelling to the nearby lawyers,
"The mongerers! The machinists!"

5.

Banana bread in an afternoon lunch buffet.
On the glittering street where artists madly gather
to break bread, thoughts,
and talk of chocolate pudding and creation.
The banana bread on my plate
is covered in butter, is moist,
is a section of the Las Vegas Street
foodland—sitting, uneaten,
covered,
in my expectation of conversation
and mad street-loathing:
of the mechanical canopy we work under.


I went and sat down and spoke with Matildakay after my run-in with the dead baby lady. Matildakay had just had some drama of her own when a local artist, who she hadn’t spoken to in a few years, walked in, one of several in the building from the cast of characters in my Chicano novella, Thick White Crust. Bo Caballero was there too and a character based on him appears throughout.

The artist, extremely controversial in the novella is entirely strange, with flamboyant tendencies to sit up late at night and create sperm seed paintings. No lie. Matildakay owns one of these. I asked her one day why she keeps it hanging in her living room. She said, “I don’t think of him when I look at it.” Whatever.

Like I was saying, this guy is flamboyant. Since I moved back he has had Matildakay and I questioning just how far south he was of being a metrosexual, while the Citrus Girl and I wondered years ago what kind of underwear he sported beneath that fake macho smile. My theory, based on stories presented in Thick White Crust depict him as a passive-aggressive jealous lover of someone from Matildakay’s sordid past. Oh I bet you want to read the novella now, don’t you? You forget that I’m a super sleuth on the trail of questionable Bakersfield occurrences and people?

I wasn’t the only one who noticed the snubbing I received from this artist who came to worship the very ground of Dim. “Ramon this! Missy this!” Lala! Blah blah! Ug! He sat in the front row during their performance like a crazed lap dog. I waited for the opportune moment to say something really cruel after the show. But he wouldn’t look my way, and several people prevented me from causing a scene. He did speak to Matildakay, holding his glass of wine daintily, smiling through his large teeth and insecure plastic smile. He talked to her about wine, about her family; he pretended to care. But she said, “He stopped talking to me because I stopped talking to him a long time ago. Here he acts so concerned about my family, yet he gave up friendship because he got jealous of your writing.”

“Maybe he feels guilty for ******* your *******.”

I’ve heard enough stories. I can put two and two together. The Lords of Bakersfield aren’t the only ones who give gay folks a bad name… there’s an artist in town with a dirty smile, a beguiling demeanor, a suave show of the hands, and an apologetic confidence who claims he knows the French, knows wines, knows a bit of everything… he reared his head at the Dim reunion… but I’m not fooled. Go read or watch Before Night Falls. You might learn something of his character…

Dim did play. I thought they were a nice musical tour through the lost days of yesteryear, though I would have liked it better if Ramone sang on more than one song. I hadn’t seen Dim perform since the mid-90s. A few years ago my old girlfriend, skinnygirlfatgirl took the Dim CD on her way to Chicago and left me with Dim’s former cassette of Green Lantern Co. She told me before the show, “If you see Ramon before the show, tell him I always wanted to **** him. Just to get a reaction.”





I’m not dumb. Way back then they both had eyes for each other. Only she kicked herself for making out with Matt Gooch and not Ramon. The poor girl. She had to settle for an adventure with me and have a book written about her. Tsk Tsk. Or maybe that’s a scary idea? I was too bashful to say anything of the sort to Ramone. I said hello and we shook hands… He teased and said my photo-flash made him mess up on the guitar… Matt Munoz never says I make him mess up, but then he’s the ska king of skakersfield with his big socks and four trademark ska dances…





Dim’s music was a forceful return to Latino rock for Ramon and Missy Barajas. Missy has an exotic look; she sways like she’s hypnotizing you though she is somewhat of a monotone singer. She has the ability to mesmerize the crowd. Her deep voice resonates like she’s seducing you while the music is straight-forward rock. You tend to forget that her voice doesn’t fluctuate much because you get caught up into her movement, and her style of deeply engrossing vocals. I still preferred Ramone’s guitar-work and shot some photos of Ramon jamming to sounds that had really been ghosts themselves in the music scene for several years now. The resurrection was good; now Dim, write some all-new material, and show me what you can do in the New Millennium…





And I can’t forget: Mento Buru played the show too. Incredible as always. The people of Bakersfield were in force to see the ska kings croon to the crowd. The dancing was mad and the sexiness was en fuego! The ska kings sent me a demo of their hockey song that’s in the works. You gotta love these guys. Their music is one of the hidden gems of the Southern Valley and will one day be recognized with a café across the street from the Crystal Palace. It will be filled with memorabilia and ghosts, .75 cent tacos, Cervesas, chili relleno, and Dwight Yoakam’s old biscuit containers… but what would it be named?

Spanish Rock shows

Important: Will the gentleman who I spoke to at Mento Buru/Dim on Friday about Spanish Rock Shows please contact me? I think he said Ramon Barajas was his god brother.

-n.l.

Fellow bloggers in crime, grassroots journalists who capture the drama - By N.L. Belardes

Fellow Bakersfield bloggers in crime, those 'other' grassroots journalists have been in action over the past few weeks and it’s time I bring some of their writings to your attention. Let’s begin with the war of words, in a friendly sort of way, between pop punk boys Rob Shock and Heath Dobbler, both formerly of the local band Three Cent Nickle. Their recent on-line argument seems to finally lay to rest just why their old rural rock punk band had a break up. While Rob Shock seems like he’s still in love with the idea of bringing the tribe back together for another pow wow, Heath Dobbler doesn’t seem to give in to Rob’s big kitty cat tears of punk rock nostalgia and second-time-around potential for greatness. Go read for yourself and pick a side. Maybe you’ll be in Rob Shock’s final camp and wish for that old band to dig up the ghosts of a rather sordid 3-cent past…

New Chicago blogger (ex-Bakersfield resident) Skinnygirlfatgirl has added a funny entry titled “Who’s going to 7-11?” where she gabs about energy drinks and gives us reminisces of coffeehouses in Ohio and Bakersfield. I love it when she calls Pepsi, “The Devil’s Drink.”

Another new blogger is Miss Light: the dirty secrets of a rock n' roll lifestyle. She's going to be streamlining a blog just for you. You're going to dig her upcoming rantings of a music scene turned dirty secrets... She starts is all off by bagging on dude-bros...

Matildakay has been sharing blogs from her recent trip to Maui that overlapped when the War Days director and his brother snorkeled with herds of trumpetfish and big green sea turtles. I think she may have given up writing about punk rock make-up, although she did send me an email recently regarding her descent into the Pizza-a-go-go where she watched Karmahitlist lose electricity…

The red walls look better. The floor is still gross.
> Most of the holes in the ceiling have been fixed.
> The stage is bigger, the sound is way better,
> there's still no stage lighting to speak of. And
> it's still hot down there. There were quite a lot of
> people... 3 bands though, Karma played last, damn it,
> I wanted them to play second so I could leave after
> that. Went upstairs during most of the second band’ s
> set. I hung out with JR most of the night. Gus came
> and went, but hung out some. Karma is probably the
> only local band that plays Jerry's that I would go
> there to see. None of my other favorites really play
> there, other than that, I'm not really interested in
> Jerry's even with the new red paint, although that
> does make a big difference, I just don't like the
> atmosphere of Jerry's. And it’s very uncomfortable
> there.
>
> Karma had the kind of show you would have loved to
> write about, one of those literary/musical rare
> moments... plus debuted a new song they had just
> wrote. It's great! But I'm not giving you all
> details because I want to write about it. JR will
> write about it...

And JR did do a write-up. It’s worth the read and really says in detail what happened with the bass going out and Gus from the Filthies rescuing the night with a loan from the nearby Filthies’ studio… sounds like a good night for music even though I’m not ready to make the descent into the red lair of rock-and-roll despair…

My favorite blog of Matildakay’s Maui trip so far is “I Survived the Road to Hana!” a delightful journey with an annoying yet intellectual tour guide along tropic mountain roads. One of her blogs that I found interesting but annoying is titled “The Fashionistas,” where although she seems to envy the plasticity of her Barbie doll self-absorbed road trip counterparts, there is a sense of pity and respect for their ability to shrug off men as if the male species are mere playthings. Of course, being a Barbie doll with fashionable day-of-the-week swimwear, earrings and busty boob sizes to match aren’t everything as I hear one of the fashionistas was left high and dry right at the altar… Score one against the Barbies! Go Ken! Go Ken! Go! OK, Ken is a plastic jerk too.

Heath Dobbler gave a nice rendition of backyard hijinks in a blog titled “Hoe-down at the Belardes Ranch.” He talks about my stomach-burning lip-smacking salsa like he’s a jealous vaquero, riding with his big sombrero into the barbecue sunset… Heath also has a take on my recent battle with the Bakersfield music scene, calling it all a ‘marketing strategy’ to gain more readership. I call it “entertainment”. Don’t you all come here to be entertained? If I have to write about Jarritos soda to get you to read, then why not?

Danielle Belton started writing again and is warning the world of a big Californian/Bakersfield.com entertainment page, complete with her blog and a podcast… dare I say will she be rivaling Bakersfield’s Buck City Podcast? I wrote in a recent comment to her blog, letting her know in my own way that podcasts should really help the community,

No way, I am finally going to have some fellow culture club podcasters? I heard through the grapevine it was in the pipe... bring it on sista soulsteppa... we'll do the podcast boogie and turn this town on its rear... A band was contacted by a label because of the Buck City Podcast... let's help the community, and forge ahead with cyberspaceland cultural growth... Oh, and glad you're back...

Of course, her podcast would be run by the Bakersfield Californian, mothership of the Bakersfield.com, Bakotopia and the Bakersfield blog community… what I wonder is: will she get extra pay for her endeavors, or like any corporation, when you get more stuff on your plate do you just grunt, smile, accept the responsibility and act happy?

Stubble the Lords Hunter had a great blog about the origins of the song, “The Streets of Bakersfield.” I commented on his blog too:

Oh Stubble the Lords Hunter, you have been on the trail of a great topic. I can't wait to link to this piece in my blog... I never knew Buck didn't write that... but that just shows I don't know enough about music in my own backyard. A great timely piece... By the way, I saw Sara Gettys today and she said her country music photo essay piece was on hold... goodness... the town needs answers as to where country music has disappeared to in the land of Buck City. I hope you help her get it off the ground and into print. -n.l.

Local artist and art curator for the Empty Space, Julia Heatherwick has been writing in her blog. She has a fun Six Degrees of Separation piece, makes a call out to event coordinators for an upcoming Day of the Dead show that I will submit a painting for, and also writes about her art collection…

N.L. on The Puck Show for Buck City Podcast Episode #15

Do yourself a favor and download iTunes or iPodder. Why? Episode 15 of Bakersfield's Buck City Podcast will have you tuning in to AM 1230 Talk Radio's The Puck Show where N.L. made a recent appearance to talk about Lords: Part One, Bakersfield Music Gossip and the Arts, and the Buck City Podcast...

If you don't want to download iTunes or iPodder, then download the MP3 of Episode 15...

The Buck City Podcast is now on iTunes, Podfeed, Podnova, Podcast, PodcastHostDirectory, PodTower, Podcast Directory, Podcast Pickle, Podcasting News, podcaster world, Odeo.com and Podfeeder... and yes, I did say iTunes! That's the biggie. Go ahead and look, you'll see the Buck City Podcast right there in the music directory...

You don't have to have a MAC to download iTunes. Just go to apple.com and download right now! It's a great search engine for podcasts, has a great look and feel, and you can listen with ease, with auto updates!

Coming soon: Dante Esperanza, Midnight Panic crowd interviews, and more...

Calico Sunset, Ruin the Portrait and the Mucha Lucha movie - By N.L. Belardes

I went to Azul’s a few times last week. You know the place by now. Hidden in the Wall Street Alley, there you’ll find the only entrance to the blue-lit room and rock-and-roll patio: a ramp that leads to a set of two doors. If you park on 19th Street you have to walk down Chester Avenue or Eye Street and then head into the alley, or cut through Riley’s Tavern.

One of the nights there I hung out with Pangolese and Norfolk and watched a Mucha Lucha wrestling movie. Another night I chilled to the sounds of Ruin the Portrait and Calico Sunset, two really great Indie bands on the Bakersfield scene. Calico Sunset might argue and say they aren’t Indie at all—they’re strictly New Wave Techno. Let’s just agree they rocked the house at Azul’s.

Other than playing live on the Buck City Podcast in the N.L. Belardes studio, I had never seen Calico Sunset perform. Joseph Andreotti set up his mini synth gadgets. He had them in two small bags. That’s it. Most bands practically have to set up a yak train through the Bakersfield Himalayas to get their equipment set up. Just ask Lostocean. They probably had at least 22 horses, 2 yaks and a 3-mile wagon train just to get all their equipment to Nashville for their big tryout with EMI. (new killer Lostocean tunes here) Not Calico Sunset. Joseph’s synth-stand is their biggest piece of equipment and I think he folds that into his back pocket.





Jenny is so full of energy you have to love this girl of the Joy Electric techno craze. She dances, she grooves; she resembles a hip 2005 version of Molly Ringwald with her Sweet Sixteen Dancing Machine hit; only this Molly-girl has a better haircut and moves like she’s on fire. Not to mention she doesn’t make those annoying grimaces that old Molly R used to do in those brat pack close-ups on the silver screen. I have to admit I was one of those 80s generation punks who saw Sixteen Candles in the movie theatre when I was about 16 years old. Maybe I was a little younger than that. I refuse to do the math.







Calico Sunset has a big following and have really put Bakersfield onto the techno music movement map with their 80s revival techno gospel sung from this conservative town like they’re on a big electrified soapbox. Sing it, Jenny! Sing it! And don’t forget Joseph—he works hard to create those techno beats and synth-dreamy sounds…

Ruin the Portrait just had their second gig ever. They have a song on myspace.com that is one of my favorite local pop songs. It moves from melodic guitars to dreamy lyrics, “This could be the biggest chance of your life. You could have it all. For just a little price. A beautiful new home. A fancy foreign car. A summer house in Maui. And your own private star. In just a few short weeks you’ll have it in your hand. Just follow the plan…” But then speeds up into a catchy pop song that’s worth its weight in local pop creations. Ruin the Portrait’s live set had a much harder sound than their myspace recording. I snapped some pictures then listened from the bar. There was a large crowd there to support their rocking set, their dreamy hit song potential about a summer house in Maui…





Later, in the parking area out in the alley I saw one of their band members leaning against a car and talking to Sal from Liars and Thieves about not being happy about the set… Blah blah was too fast, this was too slow, we could do better… and so on… not much different than what I say about myself. I’ve heard Sal make similar remarks, saying how terrible he plays when it’s not like that at all. These are incredible artists who sometimes have to adapt as they go. It’s all part of the learning process. I said, “There was a good crowd. Do you think everyone listening was a musician, or knew exactly how the songs were supposed to go? You had a good reaction from the crowd…” and they did, and I look forward to seeing Ruin the Portrait again.





The following night I went to Azul’s and there was the strangest movie up on the flatscreen TV. There were three Mexican wrestlers who look like they’d just stepped from the Mucha Lucha cartoon on WB Kids. There were girls in bikinis, and it seemed like a nice family kind of movie, only, when these guys were kickin’ it on the living room couch, they still wouldn’t take off their freaky silver and blue masks.

I think my favorite part was the workout scene in the gym. All these sweating wrestlers, pushing, tugging, and lifting every barbell in sight, but not taking off their masks… hilarious.

And don't forget Alex of Alex and AJ fame. He was spinning the tunes like a mighty unmasked DJ...

Ghost hunters hear footsteps and the wolf spirit coincidence: Part two - By N.L. Belardes

There is a coincidence going on right now regarding Oleander area ghosts that has me completely locking my door... A few of you know that my Chicano novella Thick White Crust is more than just an autobiographical tour of me moving to Bakersfield on 9/11, 2001. That novel is as much about visions, ghosts and magic realism in Chicano fiction as it is about the strange literary turns in anyone's life during such a terrible time in American history. The visions and ghosts in such a literary work? If I wrote non-fiction would anyone believe me? Will anyone truly believe I wrote about Osama Bin Laden as "The Martyr who never died," before 9/11? I can prove that I did with old documents/computer files dated pre-9/11. And then such ghostly tales to match...? Only through magic realism as in Gabriel Garcia Marquez works can one capture such strangeness...

The coincidence yesterday of course turned into a rather hilarious discussion at first with a local musician who didn't want to read the ghost stories I posted last night. "I don't like to read these things. My mind will revolve around such bad thoughts and bad tidings for days if I read about the Ghosts of Oleander," he said over the phone just after I posted yesterday's blog on ghost hunters.

And then he called back laughing... "I don't believe that last entry. A Skin Walker? That's a little too far, a little too much..."

I had to straighten him out a bit...

See, he hasn't read Lords: Part One, and neither has the Oleander Ghost Hunters. This is my first mention of such: Yes, it may seem a little far-fetched: Native American wolf spirits running on their hind legs. But the coincidence? Just a few people know of a certain spirit found in the novel, revealed to me by a source as a spirit seen by one of the supposed Lords of Bakersfield, and researched thoroughly by yours truly as a spirited rendition of a Yokut ghost… And so if the musician who thought it was a joke didn’t know, and the Oleander Ghost Hunters didn’t know… why such a strong parallel with a spirit found within Lords: Part One… and some strangers ghost stories I have been emailed over myspace.com? Coincidence? Some other strange meaning? The rendition in my novel is what makes Lords: Part One a horror tale. Black widows spewing from the mouth of a spirit isn't to be taken lightly...

Oh, it gets creepier. I was in several conversations last night at the Fish Fry Dim/Mento gig talking about kid ghosts on Blanche Street with one of the members of Mento Buru, another resident of the Oleander Arts Collective… Seems he’s had a few run-ins with kid ghosts as well. Of course I haven’t seen any where I am now… just on Oleander and hearing/seeing some strange activity on Blanche where I did live. He lives on Park Way… and his stories are as creepy as mine… but that's for another blog.

Back to the Ghost Hunters of Oleander. I’m not sure what they saw, or didn't see, but I hope they clarify in their next email to me. Here’s their last report:

Aug 27, 2005 6:00 PM

My wife, mother-in-law and me went last night twice. 1st at 8:30 and ******** was sitting out on the porch. My wife wouldn't let us go talk to him. So we walked around the block. Both said they felt nothing. We came back at 11pm looked around the house and then found an opening in the bushes on the northeast side of the house. My wife went back to the truck while me and my Mother-in-law went in. We had no flashlight; it was pitch black. We made it all the way to the porch and were able to look in the house through an open window. Cool fucking house what I saw. I boosted her to look in the backyard. That is when she told me they're all over the backyard. I put her down she than told me sit down and shut-up. It was dead quiet; no bugs, no nothing. My mother-in-law then said, “They're coming! Stay close to me!” We sat there for about 30mins in the bushes, in the dark. Neither her nor I saw anything, but the sound of foot steps were all around us in the brushes. We popped out of the brush into the yard and left. When in the yard we both had the feeling of people watching us. Next we're taking her 100% Indian boyfriend with us. Will give you a report then…

Oleander ghost hunter stories: Part one - By N.L. Belardes

Ghost hunters of Oleander: part one

I’ve taken a lot of pictures of the ghosts of Oleander; many of you know that. The subject was brought up on KRAB radio when Meathead, Desi and Rocky Nash all completely freaked out over the matter. I don’t typically blog about ghosts. I figure, if you want to see them, you will look at the links on my homepage and learn about the kid ghosts, the psych ward, the punk freak songs, and so on… Yes, there are more images of occurrences to come, but for now I have some new happenings…

Seems appearing on the radio has spurned some local ghost hunters into action. These are just normal folks interested in the paranormal, interested in discovering more truths to these urban legends of Oleander child ghosts and the Oleander Skin Walker, a Yokut spirit that I write of in Lords: Part One. These aren’t stories to take lightly. Here’s what I have learned so far from the local ghost hunters who went into action just last night… Be prepared to get freaked out. Do not read these passages alone in the dark:

Aug 25 11:51 AM

I heard you today on MD&RN; (KRAB RADIO). Checked out your web page. It really raised my interest in the story. I'm a good friend of ***** and we are planning to go down to the house at night. I'm going to take my wife she is VERY receptive to spirits and stuff. My son is even more open to channeling spirits, but due to his young age and the possible evil nature of these spirits, I will not take him. Also I have a good ****** story if you'd like to hear it? I will get back to you or I'm sure ***** will too on what we find or see. Another question I have is about source ..3. Where is this canyon he writes about in his letters to you? Have you been there? On the Sinclair kid have you thought the name could be *******? That is my wife’s family and there is some very strange ppl in her line with some very interesting stories. All the ones I've meet are VERY into the spirits and see ghost or whatever you want to call them regularly. Looking forward to the book coming out.

Aug 26 12:56 PM

Just wanted to let you know. Last night after ******* went to the house with 2 friends. We parked 3 houses up and walked down to the house. We were there no more the 5 min standing in front of the house. There was no wind at all, but the bushes and trees started to rustle like there was. We felt no breeze on our faces. My friend Richard who is a ********** freaked and made us leave, Kinda crazy. Gonna try and make it back this weekend, we will let u know what happens. By the way have you ever gone into the bushes and around the back of the property? We might try.

Aug 26 2:56 PM

I went there again at lunch the house just fascinates me. I notice on the East side shrubs looks like 2 tunnels that go back to the back part of the house, freaky even during the day. I know ******** lives there now. who is he and is he connected? Also who live in the guest house? Do you know? I got into The Native American history in 1991. I've do some research and while going to school in Phoenix hook up with a kid who still lives on the Reservation. One weekend we went up and took Peyote and sit and listened to the elders tell stories (very cool). Anyway, the Indian ghost sounds like a skin walker to me. Don't know if you know what that is? If not I'll tell you (if you care) it's very powerful with magic you don't want to come face to face with one, trust me…

Aug 26 3:32 PM

ok, a Skin Walker is, how I was told, an evil magic spirit. Takes the form of a wolf that walks on it's back legs. The story goes if you ever came face to face with one it would be a mirror image of you. But the you, if you where the most evil thing that walks this Earth and if you didn't die out of terror you would go insane. That night we ate the peyote the elders began to talk in their native tongue and became worried. ****** then told me, “Get in the truck! We have to go now!” We got to the truck and I asked why. He pointed to a ridge and I saw a wolf running on its back legs VERY FAST. It turned toward us just about 100 yards away. ****** pulled out a pistol and shot. The bullets fell out of the gun straight to the ground. 9 rounds did the same thing. We all got out of there fast. The next day i asked, “Was that real? Did that really happen?” We went back to the site and there on the ground right by the tire tracks, 9 perfect slugs. Crazy shit, bro. So if you go take some strong medicine with you. Something from a family member or loved one that is special to you…

Mento Buru and Dim at The Fish Fry - By N.L. Belardes

Here's another exclusive N.L. Belardes flyer: Mento Buru and Dim are hanging out at the Fish Fry tonight. I'm going to be there. Are you?

Talking podcasts, the interview with the college newspaper - By N.L. Belardes

I was just hanging out at Dagny’s Coffeehouse over at 20th and Eye Street today. You know the joint—the little corner coffeehouse in the downtown area where artists and journalists hang out, gossip and talk shop. I was there to meet Daniel McCraw: kind-faced, dark-haired with a naturally curious tone; he's a journalist in action for the Renegade Rip—that’s the age-old school newspaper of Bakersfield College. Ahh, the good old days. Reminds me of the time I caught Jennifer Self back in the 1980’s for plagiarism. I turned her in for copying election year propositions word for word from some forms being distributed over at the local libraries. Rookie mistake? I don’t think so. Laziness? You got it. I hear she works for the Californian. I wonder if they knew she did that as a kid. Doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago, right?


Daniel McCraw: of the new school of journalistic thought...

So here I was to talk the Buck City Podcast and a few other details with Daniel. Seems that the podcast has garnered some attention globally and is due a little write-up… it’s nice to be noticed. I should add the Buck City Podast does get listened to by important folks. Seems that as a result of a recent podcast one of the bands was contacted by a record label. Now, that doesn’t guarantee a contract, but it’s nice to know people are listening in…

Daniel was a bit nervous. This was his second ever interview for his second ever article. That’s OK, we bonded, talked shop; I answered his many questions and even learned a bit about him in return. 24 years old, he’s a returning student after being on the streets of Bakersfield for many years, working odd jobs in construction and the like. He has an inquisitive nature not unlike my own. “I wanted to do something opposite from what I ever did before,” he smiled. I imagined all the hard working jobs he used to do, and all the factory work I have done. Here he is now, a student of journalism in one of the strangest media landscapes you could find…

“I used to literally dig ditches. I’ve been homeless,” I said. I told him about The Citrus Girl novel’s stories of homelessness and of hard times, and that becoming an intellectual and academic will surely round him out as a person, a journalist, an author: “You’ll have a real world view of what’s around you,” I said. “Forget all the pretentious people who have a skewed view of things. People like you and I have done it all, so our perspectives are rounded…”

We sat outside at a table. I took a photo of him and he did likewise… This was journalism, blogging, narrative non-fiction, a literary moment in action at a media crossroads. You gotta dig that…

N.L. appears on KRAB Radio and talks conspiracy theories, ghost stories, and Lords: Part One - By N.L. Belardes

It was just before 7am on Thursday morning. I arrived at the 106.1 KRAB Radio studios for my second appearance on the station, this time to talk conspiracy theories with three morning show DJs: Rocky Nash, Meathead and Desi. Meathead is a huge guy, intimidating at first with a giant beard and a head of tousled hair. He’s a guy with a gruff radio voice, not one you want to mess with on the radio or in a dark alley. Desi is just hilarious. He’s shorter, like me, with dark hair, not so silver like mine, and was unshaven—as were all of us… well, except for Rocky. I didn’t check her pits even though she was wearing a sexy cut-off shirt that showed off her tattoos…


Meathead looks like he's about to pound me with his fists.

We talked conspiracies, specifically about Lords: Part One. I broke down the novel into a story on four levels.

1) It’s a story of corrupt city officials. We all know the tale: dualistic hidden and murderous gay lives…

2) It’s a story of initiation… into what? You missed the show? I let out some big secrets…

3) It’s a story of natural forces in the Southern valley. Yes, this is a tale of not just those creepy blankets of Tule Fog, but of the Great Dust Storm of 1977 and the ensuing catastrophic rainstorms of Christmas 1977-1978.

4) It’s a story of media corruption. Big newspapers want to sell papers, and here’s a story about how a lot of papers were sold…

The subjects strayed from Lords: Part One to several rather creepy tales of ghosts. Kid ghosts, demonic lights and bumps in the night in the Oleander area where I hunted down a few apparitions; these were hunted from leads provided by a strange source who knew about the Lords’ ghosts and who supplied the audio tapes I have yet to post. We spoke briefly of pictures I snapped of some dreaded encounters with apparitions by the House of the Lords…

We then talked about Chinese tunnels and urban myths. Francis from the Blackboard Free Press threw his two cents in to tell us what he thought of the recent Tauzer murder and Ed Jagels with hunts gone awry in the 1980s… Oh there was a lot more. I hope to get a recording of the show in its entirety…


Rocky Nash, so sweet and innocent...

As a result of the show, many folks have been heading out into the Oleander area to find ghosts… do they really exist? You tell me...

Wondering about Potter and Borders - By N.L. Belardes

I wonder if my books will be sold in Borders? The building is such an ominous landmark for a novelist. It's big blocky letters well-lit over the Chipotle restaurant... I wandered inside...



I ended up in the cafe, met with an old friend of Peter Will. He shared some photos and stories that I will publish in the coming days...



There was artwork on the walls... coffee cup photos hung... I wasn't very interested; they seemed to corporate, contrived... yet they had beautiful colors. Perhaps if I saw such in a different setting. maybe I was still stirring from the stories of Peter Will, how and why he died, and was melancholy over the tribute show...



There were racks of magazines as shuffled and lost with the written word as perhaps the final chaotic thoughts of a dying Peter Will.



I headed to the kids' section... needed a respite and smiled at the thought of having been so interested in the plight of Harry Potter

N.L. on KRAB Thursday, plus, Skinnygirlfatgirl blog and N.L. art shows - By N.L. Belardes

Tonight’s an interesting night. I’m going to go meet a friend of Peter Will and hopefully learn a bunch about who he was… Afterwards I’ll head over to Azul’s to hear some bands. Don’t ask me who’s playing because I can’t remember and the calendar man isn’t keeping up his bargain to upkeep Bakersfield shows. So once again, the calendar is a pain in the rear. If any bands want access to the Culture Calendar, I would be happy to share passwords…

I’m sick of the calendar already. What do I have to do to motivate the calendar man? I offered him money; I offered not to ground him for bad behavior. Just kidding. Of course I will ground him for bad behavior…

N.L. Belardes gossip:

Going to appear on 106.1 KRAB radio tomorrow, Thursday morning at 7am to talk about my new novel, Lords: Part One and conspiracy theories with Rocky Nash, Meathead and Desi.

N.L. Belardes art show and book reading in November (4-17). I have been asked to share a couple of walls worth of photos from the art scene that I will print out and hang in the Empty Space theatre for 2.5 weeks. This is really going to be a monument to the local music scene. Who will support seeing band pics on the walls of a theatre for all to behold? I hope you will. More on this soon…

Contributing to a Dia de Los Muertos art show… a painting? A sculpture? A Papier-mâché beast projecting from artistic walls?

The Renegade Rip is going to do an article on podcasts. Let’s get the word out to Bakersfield that everyone here can do the podcast two-step!

Just submitted an article to the Blackboard Free Press on last month in the music scene…


Most of all I want to share this blog with you from my Chicago friend: Skinnygirlfatgirl.blogspot.com inspired an entire novel I wrote in 1998 titled The Citrus Girl. She’s got serious attitude and is funny as hell and rants about Bakersfield. She writes, “I was 20 when I moved to Bakersfield to go to school. I weighed 160 pounds and at 5'11 I floated across the Cal State campus feeling like a goddess. I had long golden brown hair, I was tan and I had all of a sudden figured out the confidence secret that made me sexy…” read more.

Norfolk and the Oildale Reverend on the Buck City Podcast #14 - By N.L. Belardes

Do yourself a favor and download iTunes or iPodder. Why? Episode 14 of Bakersfield's Buck City Podcast is one of the best podcasts thus far and you need to hear it in its entirety. James Ratliff and Peter Prevost of Norfolk enter the N.L. Belardes studios and perform several live songs, including a few world premieres... Also hear the recorded version of Norfolk's release of "Northern", a moody alt country piece that plays at the end of the podcast. This song is a must listen...

If that isn't enough, there's a special guest appearance by the Oildale Reverend. Don't miss the Reverend and N.L. talk about Satanic bands, strange bus tours and more!

If you don't want to download iTunes or iPodder, then download the MP3 of Episode 14...

The Buck City Podcast is now on iTunes, Podfeed, Podnova, Podcast, PodcastHostDirectory, PodTower, Podcast Directory, Podcast Pickle, Podcasting News, podcaster world, Odeo.com and Podfeeder... and yes, I did say iTunes! That's the biggie. Go ahead and look, you'll see the Buck City Podcast right there in the music directory...

You don't have to have a MAC to download iTunes. Just go to apple.com and download right now! It's a great search engine for podcasts, has a great look and feel, and you can listen with ease, with auto updates!

Coming soon: Midnight Panic, Dante Esperanza, The cast of Fame and more...

Calling all bands, calling all actors, Hobbits on the loose! - By N.L. Belardes

There is a call to bands from Kevin Lively, Bakersfield Community Theatre director for the upcoming theatric version of The Hobbit. He wants Bakersfield bands to donate songs, or come up with original tunes for the show. He also needs for CASTING folks...

SECRET: Old N.L. has already promised to be a part of the endeavor and you will see some original N.L. Belardes artwork for the Hobbit.

Lord of the Rings wasn't enough? You can't wait to see Peter Jackson's 2009 rendition of the Hobbit? Then be a part of this community effort to see Hobbits splatted like flies, and Smaug the Dragon as a big red Chevy pick-up with flames on the side and a cowboy driver inside that wants to pollute the Lonely Mountain junkyard with his Hobbit-hating country musack!

Ok, I'm making this stuff up, but then, why not turn the Hobbit into a Bakersfield love story of sorts...

Get in touch with Kevin Lively right away!!

Dirty Spanglish makes hockey song debut with anti-officials anthem, Zebras - By N.L. Belardes

There’s a new band in town of next generation punks. The director of The War Days has just gone rock and roll with his band Dirty Spanglish. If you’re on myspace, please take the time to add this young punk group.



Dirty Spanglish took some time recording a hockey song over at Ratliff Studios this past weekend. Their ‘anti hockey officials’ song, “Zebras” might just be quite the knock-out punch on Growing Up Fighting: Volume One.

But then, Dirty Spanglish has it cut out for them in coming up with that big Condor anthem. Look for music from Mento Buru, Myndsick, Exithead, Rocky Nash, The Filthies, Heath Dobbler and the Redhead Explosion, RidiKule, Fatt Katt and the Vonzippers, and more…





Let’s hear it for young punk bands, creative kids, and the future of fun in the Bakersfield music scene…

Carnage Asada II - By N.L. Belardes

For all of you who think I just sat around on my arse on Sunday. Yes, I did miss Teenage Talking Cars at Riley’s and Liars and Thieves. But then, I had a bunch of musicians hanging out for the second episode of “Carnage Asada”! Yes, this was one of those rare barbecues where the salsa is as good as the chicken, beef and Mexican rice. A rundown of who was there?

Liars and Thieves stopped by just before their big set. Teenage Talking Cars were supposed to show up. And to think I had more carne on the grill for them. Shameful. Those LA bands just aren’t “carnage asada” eaters. Who else was there? Nunez and his compadre, writer Katie Mumpower; most of Sioux City Sassy; most of Norfolk: Peter Prevost, Pablo Alaniz (his idea for the BBQ) and James Ratliff; ska king Matt Munoz; JR of illpressed; matildakay; Dirty Spanglish was in the house as was Heath Dobbler and a host of others…




You didn’t get invited? No problem. There will be a Day of the Dead party just soon enough, and maybe even “Carnage Asada III” right here in the Oleander Arts Collective.

The highlight?

Had to be James Ratliff getting’ down to 40 Watt Hype’s CD, Unification Theory. Would have done Aaron Wall and company proud.

An evening before Dramarama with Bo Diddley and Mento Buru - By N.L. Belardes

Prior to the Filthies Dramarama and a little sprinkling of my own I went and hung out at the CSUB amphitheatre with chingpea and the War Days Director to catch local ska king legends, Mento Buru and big-time rock legend, Bo Diddley.

I arrived a little late, parked across the street along the bike path and the dry kern riverbed and we all made our way to the grassy amphitheatre bowl where the 9-piece Mento Buru orchestra was already well underway to livening up a large crowd of around 800-900 folks.



I had spoken briefly with Pat Evans of World Records so see if I could bring a camera. “Just bring your gear out,” he said. And so I did and right away snapped some shots of the ska kings in form: Matt Munoz at the lead and calling on his bandmates to improvise in a cacophony of ‘skakersfield’ chorus led by the congo-artist Dave Rodriguez who performed a maddening congo solo, then bass player Caleb Moore who played one of the best bass solos I have ever witnessed, then Cesareo Garasa on drums… What can I say about Cesareo? Check this out: afterwards I got my Karmahitlist/Mento Buru collector’s item drumsticks memorabilia, because C-man signed autographs for a group of cool cat kids who were all inspired by Cesareo “The Assassin” Garasa and his ability to ‘shoot to kill’ with his ska-drum off-beat solo... whoah!


Cesareo signs an autograph

And then there was Bo Diddley. I would do a huge write up on this legend, but feel it would be better served if you all read Neal Strauss article in this month's Rolling Stone titled, “The Indestructible Beat of Bo Diddley.”


n.l. captures the media capturing the audience

Pictures and a poem:


when rock and roll history sings


the crowd is in awe


of the man with the square guitar


who will one day sing even as he steps into heaven

The lost images of Nunez and Sioux City Sassy - By N.L. Belardes

These images had supposedly been lost from a recent night at Azul's where Captain Hook hadn't recognized me as the guy who did a podcast with him. Oh, but that's not all. At was a night of Cesareo ranting about hockey song ryhthms, and a few bands: The Nunez Project, with Nunez kindly giving me a hug, his friend Katie dumping her purse on the floor twice (You'd think they'd make those with zippers) and that incredible Jimmy Holliday gone electric in a supercharged Sioux City Sarsaparilla that I am just going to refer to in this blog as Sioux City Sassy! Heeyah!! Getty-up!!


Nunez seranading me with a Latino love song.




Sioux City Sassy electrified!!!!


Alt-country Folk with a ZAP!

The ghost of Peter Will - By N.L. Belardes

I have the N.L. Belardes ranting episode 11 podcast, an angry tribute to Peter Will, a legend of the Bakersfield music scene who recently died. I have the wondering blog as the ghost-like friend of Peter Will was hopefully going to arrive and tell me stories... and now I have the mysterious unsigned email telling of the tribute to Peter Will that many in the community have been waiting for. Read on...

"She told me about introducing me to an old friend of Peter Williams. He must not have showed, because no one approached me to talk about the sadness of Peter Will. Just who was Peter Will that the Bakersfield Music Scene killed?"

PETER WILL is not dead! Only a body that may resemble him has passed on. HE is alive and well in all of us that knew and loved him. Those of you who didn't have the pleasure to hear or know the best rock musician to ever be born in this sad little city missed a man who was placed here to rock the world. From 1987 on PETER WILL played every show like it was his last. A memorial tribute is scheduled to honor this fallen guitar hero on September 30th. It will be a two part event. DAGNY'S COFFEE CO. will host the acoustic portion of our event. Local artists will be playing his music as we celebrate the life and times of PETE who would have turned 37 on September 27th (The acoustic show is from 5-8 p.m)

The second half of our event will be at KOSMO'S (from 8 p.m. - 1:30 a.m) and is guaranteed to rock! There will be four local bands and TRAILS OF FIRE from Ventura is scheduled to headline.

HOPE TO SEE YOU THERE ~~~~

That French Red Rooster Goes Rural Rock Punk - By N.L. Belardes

I had been emailing Glenn Anderson for some time. He keeps me up to date on happenings at the Rooster, and I provide him entertaining blogs that keep him from falling asleep at his desk during the day. So I finally just had to see what was going on at the old Hush Puppy--le Red Rooster! I forget the French name... La Carouge Rouge or something catchy like that.

I popped into the Red Rooster last night after seeing Bo Diddley out at CSUB just to do a quick run-through of the place. OK, so just like the Filthies cover song by, Dramarama, I was avoiding a little dramarama of my own, so unfortunately I had to boogie on out and down to Wendy's for a burger. However, at the Rooster, I don't have to say how packed it was. Just read JR's piece on last night's festivities. He stayed for all the bands, and really dug Empath. Of course he liked the Filthies. That goes without saying. He and I are both big fans of Captain Kenny Filthypants. Sorry Kenny, I still crack up over what the Queen of the Downtown Fur wrote about being at the Cherry Bar with the Filthies in San Francisco when the Filthies played there in March.

I have to admit I had been hearing the Red Rooster was packing them in but was surprised to see so many people milling about outside and cramming the bar inside. The Filthies were already tearing down the house with their rural rock punk anthems when I got in the door. I saw Shantell of Three Chord Whore, said hello to a few other folks, but did dog out before saying hello to Hawaiian travelled Matildakay and Flower in the Dale. Of course I snapped a few quick photos and did notice there was a rather cool zebra-striped stage, though I was expecting it to look more feathery, ala Foghorn Leghorn's tail feathers; just a tad more plush.



I just got off the phone with Kenny Mount. "Did you know they had a local book section at Russo's? You should sell your books there."

"I'm going to sell my books at every bookstore in town."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah man."

And then we talked about last night. "We had to cut a few songs short. There were a few people getting too rowdy. We didn't play Malissa's Song."

I wondered if Malissa would kick tail for not hearing Kenny's love ballad to her.

"There was some blood; a few fights..."

It's punk rock. But then, no one needs too many fisticuffs. I feel bad for missing the good stuff... punk rock, fights, red roosters and zebra stripes. And Glenn is as friendly as they come... I look forward to going out to the Red Rooster on a regular basis...

Sioux City, Nunez, Dante, N.L. at Azul's - By N.L. Belardes

There was so much drama Wednesday night at Azul’s funky blue-lit hangout I can’t even see straight two mornings later. Oh, what was the drama? Was it “that” kind of drama… oh yes it was—you know it. I won’t tell exactly what it was but there were underlying tones of ‘bad vibe’ following old N.L. around that rivaled Enrique Fuentes ‘Rico’ and ‘Paulo’ machinations. It involved salsa and chips, an “old man dating” statement, my dogging the work-flow motions, poor dinner judgment and so on… but enough of that…

I showed up, leaned against a wall only to see Dante Esperanza romping around the stage like some psychedelic cowboys on the loose, cornered by the natives, and singing their way out of trouble. Dylan had his shirt off, the music suddenly ended, the crowd cheered, and I stood hopeless—not even time to snap a photo of the mayhem. Oh well, at least their lead man had dodged prison once again. I looked for Dante’s supreme leader a little while later but couldn’t find him…

Next up, Sioux City Sarsaparilla—Jimmy Holliday goes electric! Yes, it’s true. Sioux City has upped its alt country-folk rock ante a notch by going electric and I dig it. Jimmy Holliday was looking haggard; that would be ‘Merle Haggard’ as he sported a rather wild man Buck City beard as if he’d just ridden the rails across the mad desert, took a flatbed truck from Tehachapi, zoomed down the Greenhorn Mountains and stepped off in downtown Bakersfield in his flat shoes and windblown beard—just to play a ditty. “Got a light?” I expected him to ask. But that’s not Jimmy Holliday’s style. The real guy is just a young Merle-Buck guitar-slinger screamer ready to turn Buck City on fire with his bluegrass-punk that literally gets the crowd dancing the two-step. He’s a friendly guy, always ready to shake hands and will talk to you about his sarcastic lyrics, if you’re brave enough to let him.


Sioux City Sassy electrified!!!!


Alt-country Folk with a ZAP!

With his sad-boy eyes staring into the cigarette-stained night he crooned to the crowd only the way he can scream lyrics; his songs that make you think he’s a Descartian-inspired musical chieftain of the Bakersfield city Bluegrass rock blues. He sang a long set of crowd pleasers while I rustled up a drink at the bar and be-bopped to his style while a few gals danced two-step jigs.

Last I saw Sioux City it was an awe-inspiring performance at Montgomery World Plaza just before Frisco’s Bart Davenport—that Maroon Cocoon hipster of “Quiet is the New Loud” and “dreampop lounge” sounds. Bart was followed by a cameraman . I talked to him about his HV camera. We talked sound and images for a few minutes then parted ways. Bart played a steady solo acoustic show. I leaned against a banister and quietly enjoyed his acoustic and singing ability. Later, Bart was mesmerized by the emo-sounds of Lostocean who played last. He called a friend, held up a cell phone and in his Britishy accent said, “My goodness, listen to this emo. It’s the same beat, the same song over and over; but they do it so well…oh yes, they’re good at it…” Not sure I agreed with Bart’s fascination over same tempo beats; maybe that’s why he doesn’t have a drummer; he just doesn’t believe in one, although there are drums on a few tracks on Maroon Cocoon. He soon left to spend the night at the Dalloways…

Nunez followed up with his Spanish ballads. His head hung low over his guitar while he strummed, he looked up only to talk to the audience in Spanish during and in between songs. The crowd began to thin. It was late, but Nunez still retained a crowd as he sang song after song, crooned and let out a few energetic native screams. I talked to his friend Katie, a dark-haired cigar-smoking local writer who just sent me a piece on “Shoe-gazing” music. She had been talking to me about shoe-gazing that night at Azul’s when she accidentally dumped her purse on the ground. I bent as if to pick up the contents, but she gave me one of those, “You won’t like what you’ll find” stares. I smiled, wondered if this was what shoe-gazing was all about—staring at our feet where the contents of her purse lay. Didn’t matter, it all happened again in a few minutes: crash! dump! She repeated the same stare and I felt enlightened to know not to touch the purse's voided contents... She told me about introducing me to an old friend of Peter Williams. He must not have showed, because no one approached me to talk about the sadness of Peter Will. Just who was Peter Will that the Bakersfield Music Scene killed? Ah, someone’s going to tell me more one of these days… in the meantime, I’ll hang out at Azul’s, listen to Djs Mike and AJ of the Soulsteppers and down a few ciders.


Nunez seranading me with a Latino love song.

N.L. Belardes talks shop with Preston and Puck of The Puck Show - By N.L. Belardes

AM 1230, Talk Radio. More specifically, The Puck Show: that freeform verse of radio shock jock antics from 4-6pm on weeknights was quite uproarious yesterday. Hosted by Puck, a punk rock T-shirt wearing radio guy with glasses and a ball cap; he’s very casual like his counterpart and co-host, Preston, who yesterday sported a cut-off T-shirt that showed off his many tattoos.


Puck in his trademark ball cap and punk shirt

Just before the 5 PM segment I arrived at American General Media. I was a bit lost in searching for building 134. None of the building numbers seemed to be in order, and I was nervous anyway; I needed some hand-holding just to get to the front door. We novelists can construct a complex novel but then at certain times forget simple directions like how to tie our own shoes.


Preston arguing with Puck about Elvis Presley

Like I said, I was nervous. I wondered if shock jocks Puck and Preston would tear me a new one; would they be friendly to the old Nickster? Would I be able to think on my toes about my novel, Lords: Part One, even though I wrote the damn thing? And what about the local music scene? What would be illuminated about it? Where would the discussion go? Freeform is just what it is—a discussion that can go anywhere.

If you missed out on the on-radio antics, then I have to admit you missed a good show. We talked about the local music scene, about the rich bed of local talent, about Buck’s organization not helping out the local music scene enough, and in turn, bands who may not be trying hard enough to make friends with Buck Owens and his big crystal horse that everyone should want to ride on.

And then we talked about The Lords of Bakersfield and Lords: Part One, a novel that explores a dark tale of Bakersfield lore, and some of the mysteries surrounding such dastardly stories. We spoke of research, of its fictional qualities, of Bakersfield myth-making, Robert Price and more…

Puck and Preston were genuinely interested and even threw in a fun phone call joke from Kevin Bartl of past Condor’s hockey fame, as he has embarked on a new AHL career in Lowell, Massachusetts, but called in to say hello from the land of the Loch Ness Monster hockey team…

If you want to hear the show, I will be posting it as a podcast in the near future… So stay tuned!

Grass roots novel war, N.L. on AM 1230 KGEO Talk Radio at 5PM today - By N.L. Belardes

Major N.L. Belardes attack underway in just a few hours. It's a grass roots novel war to get the word out.

On the radio: Gonna talk hockey CD, Lords of Bakersfield, The Music and Art Scene on The Puck Show. Tune in at 5PM AM 1230 KGEO...

Right afterwards the Literary Street Team will be distributing Lords: Part One flyers at both the Street Faire and at the Yokuts Park Concert...

The Lords: Part One Press Release - by N.L. Belardes

You're some of the first to know:



For more information: August 17, 2005
The Noveltown Group
P.O. Box 10115
Bakersfield, CA 93389
661.900.2353
melody@noveltown.net


Lords of Bakersfield Resurface in Controversial Novel

Bakersfield Latino Novelist/Matt Drudge-style blogger to release controversial fiction on valley witchhunt…


BAKERSFIELD, Calif., April 19, 2005 There is a book on its way September/October 2005 that uncovers more of the infamous Lords of Bakersfield stories made popular through investigative reporting in the Bakersfield Californian. If you ever read the ‘Lords of Bakersfield’ news stories by journalist Robert Price, the biggest news ever uncovered in the Southern San Joaquin Valley, (http://ww2.bakersfield.com/2003/lords/) then you have an idea about Latino writer N.L. Belardes forthcoming novel, Lords: Part One.

"I wanted to write literary fiction about a local story gone big, one that had seeds planted in the national consciousness; and that was Lords," N.L. says. "It’s a story that not only reflects the Southern Valley, but uncovers the corrupt nature of man sometimes hidden in small town Americana."

In the Hollywood movie storms of 1977 where films like Star Wars and Close Encounters spawned a maelstrom of epic adventure and wonder for kids everywhere, such streets also spawned another breed of child. Bitter, alienated, and lost in the punk-influenced beginnings of a feel-good era of disco-enflamed junkies, such kids slunk the streets of Hollywood and Hollywood’s backyard: Bakersfield, California, where they preyed equally on the hands that held them.

Based on the Lords of Bakersfield news stories of the late 1970s and early 1980s, Lords: Part One is a story of media and high-profile corruption in a conservative city close to the Hollywood storm. For those who remember such a time, this story will sink its teeth into readers, just as that great dust storm of 1977 tore into the valley…

"N.L. Belardes weaves the fog of humanness into a novel of boyhood decay." -Tony Blanche

"...the corruption of the San Joaquin from its stormy media center." -M.J. Forrest

"The Cult Classic on Bakersfield for years to come." -Al Guevara


N.L. Belardes has written the Christmas kid’s classic, The Blimperwhirls. Forthcoming works to be released include: Thick White Crust, Cubicles, The Freaky Fish Show, The Citrus Girl, Lords: Part Two, and more…

The Coronation of Mark Chavez and Midnight Panic - By N.L. Belardes

When Daniel from Studio 99 called my bluff last Friday about attending Mark Chavez’ Midnight Panic debut show, I was none other than amazed and humbled. Having value as a writer in the Bakersfield music scene is an honor. Why? Because there’s real talent locally. I don’t have to leave town to see great guitar riffs, lyrical wisdom, piano virtuosos, techno dreamy and dream pop, punk rock mayhem, and top rate metal madness. Having such respect generates a good feeling; humble, trusted, the notion that I can blaze a path for the music scene and others can feel secure that I am driving this car somewhere. Not that I drive the only car. It’s more like a freeway of folks trying to steer the scene in a lot of directions: Belton, Rivera, Dobbler...

I had expected Daniel to shirk my protest, to ignore my whining and complaining when I wrote this past week, “At the time I said ‘yes’. But that was the day before the rock and roll-less art show. Come on Studio 99, I can’t even get the unknown cool Bakersfield bands to support me with their presence, and you want me to show up and ogle over Mark Chavez and snap photos (like that killer one I took of Throatshot!) and do a snappy happy write-up to boot? Is this musician going to support me as an artist in return? Fat chance. I tell you what. If Mark Chavez contacts me…”

And then I got a phone call. It was past ten at night; I had been in bed snoozing from an intense evening of board games and checkers when the phone bleeped. Too comatose to pick up I listened to the message, “…and we would really like to see you at the show…”

Oh no, it wasn’t Mark Chavez. But that was OK. It was the thought that counted; the effort that stuck. It was one of his buddies putting on the show: Wayne Vaugan, local contractor/band funder. I called him back the next morning and said a hearty thanks; we talked for a few minutes and parted ways with me being promised a pass for four…

It was to be a big night for Chavez and myself. The music scene would be surprised that I had returned so soon. I hadn’t wanted to part ways with the music scene. I had big plans. But I can be stubborn when I feel left out of cross promotion and failed band readership. Just ask my friends. It wasn’t that people didn’t show up to my show. It was that music people didn’t… Integrity is everything and I wasn’t about to give in to my promise of not attending shows, that is, until I got that most unexpected phone call from the Chavez camp.

I had just recorded Calico Sunset in a big podcast where the sound had immensely improved. Yeah, now you can hear gum chewing and me breathing too heavy into the mic. Wonderful; perfect. Without a doubt it was a great evening of recording an awesome techno band, but now we were to take the podcast on the road, give it a whirl of a try at none other but a show brought about by the former front man for Adema—that is, until we got to the gate and my writing for the scene almost completely unraveled…

Bouncers are a breed all their own: thuggish, brutish, some rude, some nice, most not very understanding of miscommunication and take it out on you as if you’ve just asked them to be included in the coronation of King Louis XVI. Yeah, our names weren’t on the guest list and it was an invitation show only. “You’re not on the list, so you don’t get in,” grumbled one of the bald brutes at the gate.

“Can you go talk to someone? This show invited us.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“If you’re not on the list…”

“Well this was a waste of time,” I grumbled in return.

“If you’re not on the list you don’t get in. It’s that simple. Who put you on the list?”

I had to think. He caught me off guard. I’m horrible with names. “Vaughan,” I blurted. “That’s his name.”

“Oh. Well you’re not on the list. You can’t get in.”

Didn’t we just go through this? I wondered.

I had arrived with Matt Munoz and a couple of punks. I was already walking away, framing my next blog expose of thug gatekeepers and a purple bottle of Jarritos in favor of band write-ups, when Matt, peacemaker extraordinaire offered to make a phone call.

“Nah, I’ll call the guy who invited us,” I said, dialing as we walked, already thinking of a blog about being a forgotten writer; I felt like the warehouse we were at that was lost in the shadow of the Crystal Palace just up the street.

No sooner had he answered came a familiar holler from down the street at the gate entrance. It was Marky Pope—bouncer thug king of the warehouse venue... it was a perfect moment. There were laughs and handshakes and suddenly we were on to the coronation of Mark Chavez and Midnight Panic. Forget ol’ king Lou.

Mark Chavez: tattooed, dark hair, having been one of the music industry’s lifted, then one of the rock and roll fallen. I had heard a few stories of Adema. Kenny Mount claims to have named the band. One source alleges Chavez was addicted to painkillers and hid them in his mic. Who knows about the truth of such a story… This is rock and roll—a volatile profession that takes people and their addictions and often blows complete lives out of proportion. Perhaps Chavez just got out of the band to start something new for himself. I haven’t talked to him. I heard he didn’t like the musical direction of Adema. But that’s all gossip.

“He’s on his own this time,” I heard someone say. “No help from the half-brother in Korn…” Big deal. Anyone can do anything they put their mind to.

One of the toughest parts of life is having to start over. We all have to do that sometimes. For me that would be my autobiographical novella, Thick White Crust, a journey to Bakersfield from Las Vegas on September 12, 2001 and the few ensuing months thereafter. I had a hundred bucks and a black bag with some clothes and eyed an old baseball field as a bed… that’s just reality. You pick up, you leave, you move on and you even wonder where to sleep…

I followed Matt Munoz as he talked to folks from the local music scene. I saw Cesareo, Matt from Myndsick, Matt from Give Impulse, CK, Rocky and Preston Nash, Brett from Endrio, Brad and friends from Throatshot, all the guys from Another Year and a host of others. I listened to stories, to gossip, to young couples unaware that a novelist was in their midst who might write some of what he heard.





But then the show got started. I worked my way to the front of the pack. People let me pass as Mike Montano Jr. strapped on a bass and went right into the action. Mark Chavez’ voice had a tinny echo to it. I’d never even heard Adema. The band came out meaning business and weren’t about to waste time in between songs or during songs with unnecessary down time or extended show-off moments. They were on a mission to be heard and the crowd didn’t turn its back. I snapped photos of Mark grooving hard in the scintillating stage lights; I got into a few of the songs to the point where I paused to focus on the hard rock and roll sounds of the band, to listen to the tightness of the musicians. I heard they had only been together a short while and already had 14 songs in their repertoire. Would we hear them all tonight? Not likely. This wasn’t a marathon Mento Buru show where you dance until your eyes bleed and Matt’s socks fall to his ankles in mad ska moments.





I saw kids grooving to the music and some of the old timers downing beers and enjoying the songs. There seemed to be several groups criticizing, wondering if Chavez were pretentious; they took in the new music and like experts plotting out Chavez’ future. As if any of us know. As if no rock musician is a bit pretentious. Who wouldn’t want to have played Oz fest, to have had an opportunity at stardom? So people ask, ‘Can Chavez do it again, resurge to the point of a big label?’ Maybe the show should have been open to the public. Maybe, maybe, maybe… Didn’t matter—Vaughan called it the ‘Family Show’. It was the first gig for Midnight Panic and no one ran away, not even the humbled novelist who felt part of the family once again...

Electro-pop Dreams with Calico Sunset in Episode 13 - By N.L. Belardes

Bakersfield's Buck City Podcast has become the land of dreamy electro-pop with local techno band Calico Sunset in the studio. Meet Joseph and Jenny Andreotti, two musicians inspired by Joy Electric, Pulp, Blur, and more. I recently did a review of their CD Deep Deep Paranoia, a great techno CD on Velvet Blue Music, Jeff Cloud's label.

You have to listen to Episode Thirteen, and if you're an artist, in a band, or in theatre, you're going to want to do a podcast. Why? Because a podcast can be downloaded and listened to over and over again. It's not just a one-time radio thing... Go to my homepage and click on one of the chicklets, subscribe, or just wimp out and download the MP3 of Episode Thirteen, 'Electro-pop Dreams'... If you do click on a chicklet, try podnova or podcast alley. But don't discount iTunes. The Buck City Podcast is now on iTunes, Podfeed, Podnova, Podcast, PodcastHostDirectory, PodTower, Podcast Directory, Podcast Pickle, Podcasting News, podcaster world, Odeo.com and Podfeeder... and yes, I did say iTunes! That's the biggie. Go ahead and look, you'll see the Buck City Podcast right there in the music directory...

And no, you don't have to have a MAC to download iTunes. Just go to apple.com and download right now! It's great! A great search engine for podcasts, a great look and feel, and you can listen with ease, with auto updates!

If that isn't enough, my arts page just went through a major overhaul just to keep up with the new Buck City Podcast and the popularity it's already received. Take a look at the new simplistic look and feel...

Coming soon: Burning Image, Norfolk, and a night with Midnight Panic

An afternoon of photos with the Soulsteppers - By N.L. Belardes

The car headed into the heart of Bakersfield, just past a murderous house where a young woman had been recently gunned down. “Hurry up and get your ass in the car!” Mike yelled just before he sped the car through the parking lot toward Columbus Avenue. A young guy with dark brown hair had jumped in the back before we were off.

“Go all the way to Mt. Vernon Avenue,” I said.

“I don’t know my way around here very well,” Mike admitted. He’s a big guy with soft eyes that could quickly transform into a smoker’s hard stare. His brown hair was cut short; his clothes retro-Seventies.

It had been a scary neighborhood. Not one where you wanted to cross anyone when offering you a hot DVD unless they were just down-and-out addicts, harmless, and looking for a buck.

“Makes you almost think twice when your friends are addicted to heroin and offering you a cheap player,” came another voice. Everyone knows the addicts sell cheap, we all laughed accordingly. The voice was AJ—he sat right behind me. He was retro too with straight hair cut and styled to perfection to suit his high cheekbones. AJ is part owner in Gigantic Vintage, a local vintage clothing store in a local Mexican marketplace. He’s also a tailor and promotes Indie rock shows at Bakersfield’s Pizza-a-go-go.

“We could get a little business going. Get the discount items and resell at a big price,” Mike laughed. “Wonder if anyone has a Soul Collection for sale. I need Soul music.”

“Yeah, you’d find out it was your own,” laughed the third voice.

We passed John’s Burgers then headed further to Mt. Vernon, stopping at a corner gas station. The dude in the back bought a giant case of beer that he shoved into the trunk. Mike lit a cigarette in the sweaty afternoon. He opened the door, leaned out, smoked, drew a few deep drags. We were there but moments and soon headed down the steep hill road toward Hart Park and the Kern River. The hills looked fragile, rolling carpets of foxtails seemed to be waving like matches, ready to alight into a massive grass fire at the flick of an incendiary. Beige-painted pipelines wound aimlessly across the landscape while the foxtails were so golden they seemed to flicker and spark.

When AJ and Mike of the Soulsteppers asked me to take pictures for their upcoming vinyl 45 to be distributed in France, how could I say “No”? Impossible; I am all for the arts: the Bakersfield scene, the music, the fine arts—they’re much bigger than me and deserve to be illuminated. I grabbed my camera and headed out the door. That was the day before. I waited at the park near the snack bar where as a young boy I once hooked a dead pig in the small lake and dragged it to shore on a strand of frail fishing line. I remembered back and chuckled to myself at such an innocent memory. This day, kids in the dozens dove into the lake, into the carcasses of memories. They swung from ropes, splashed endlessly in the heat near where Father Garces once crossed the Rio de San Felipe.

I had bought a strawberry snow cone and watched the paddleboats. The Soulsteppers never arrived. They were running late and there was no phone service at the park. We all went the next day instead, piled into Mike’s car and off we went…

The park loomed close. The San Felipe, more than a hundred years ago named the Kern River rushed past in a deadly torrent. Inside its waters, hidden bodies stuck to roots, were lodged under rocks—you never knew where they were; sometimes not until the October trickle, when the river lowered from the less abundant run-off could a lone fisherman stumble onto such decay.

We stopped at the snackbar.

“We should take pics in the paddleboat,” Mike soon laughed while their buddy downed a cold one. The rest of the beer grew warm in the trunk.

The laughter continued: “We could have a prop guitar and girls in the paddleboats with us. And canoes!”

Soon everyone inspected the metal bridge that hung over where the lake drained toward the river. There used to be a time when kids hung out at the rocks down below. They caught Perch and stared into the swirling waters. But now the way was blocked by large spiders that had somehow blocked the passage to the bottom in giant webs strung between trees and between the metal lower portions of the bridge. I snuck in close to snap a photo but the spiders blended too much with the background and I didn’t want to slip on the incline while attempting a close up—only to get tangled in a web and wrapped in venom.

We took some photos on the bridge then moved to a stream and snapped more photos. Mike puffed on a cig on the street above the run-off before we all marched closer to the river. Soon we left the river as well. We were on a leafy bed along the river and Mike and AJ put on boots for the photos. AJ reluctantly sat in stickerbur leaves that stung my knees as we took a few final shots. They drank a few beers and we then drove out of the park and back up the hills, into the urban landscape where the Soulsteppers and I could all embark on our own lonely Sunday journeys…

Here's a few photos we took for the 45s:

Big Announcement! The New Twist on the Art Scene Writer - By N.L. Belardes

Forget all the wimpy crying and complaining from me, N.L. Belardes; forget that the Filthies think I’m the biggest puss since Potsy cowered to Fonzie in his office. (don't worry, you'll still read THAT email. It's great!) There’s a new music scene writing and podcasting strategy in town, and that would only be from nlbelardes.com.

“What’s the difference? I can’t see anything new…?” you ask.

Au contraire. There are differences. Let me so kindly point them out:

Features both old and new:

I am once again attending shows and writing N.L. reviews. Attending shows began the night I saw Midnight Panic out at Studio 99 (Former front man for Adema, Mark Chavez and company). That night will be explained in a blog and in an exclusive ‘on the road’ podcast… but to sum it up I wrote that I wouldn’t attend a Mark Chavez show unless Mark Chavez phoned. OK, so he didn’t call me, but his buddy did, so I still ate crow. Yes, that means I will continue my Free Community Service Blog to help build and illuminate the arts scene. (And that still means I don’t get paid to hang out with The Filthies, Heath Dobbler, or Throatshot. Although I should). But will I go to Jerry’s Pizza? That’s the big question.

New Culture Calendar: Yes, nlbelardes.com is once again attempting an arts calendar. Who else is? Only this time I’m not doing it. Calendar Man is. You can submit arts/music/theatre events to him at calendarman@nlbelardes.com.

There will be a link from my arts page to the Calendar in the coming days.

Blackboard Press News and radio? Not only will the music and arts scene be illuminated through Bakersfield Music Gossip and the Arts, I will also be writing once a month for that ‘other’ newspaper in town, and possibly appear on the radio once per week. That means Bakersfield residents can get news about the Bakersfield Music Scene several ways from N.L. Belardes: Blog on nlbelardes.com, Buck City Podcast, blog on Bakersfield.com, news article in Blackboard Free Press, and on a hundred different arts, band, and theatre sites that have the N.L. Belardes link.

New Podcast sound and live in studio capability! Oh yes, with the addition of a mixer and some new technology, the annoying hiss is gone starting with the upcoming Calico Sunset Podcast who even played live in the studio in a recent podcasting session! How’s that for helping to illuminate to the world that Bakersfield music and the arts exists?

N.L. Belardes expectations:

Uh-oh, what does N.L. expect in return? First born children? Blood bonding when N.L. has personal art/book shows that guarantee bodies showing up? Ransom notes? I’m not the media, but I do say, ‘Be the Media’. I don’t expect anything further in return for my services. Why?

As a mere gesture of goodwill. Simple as that.

Now, welcome to the new N.L. Belardes scene writer…

Look forward to pics from this past Saturday night very soon!

And sorry about the technical difficulties with the podcast. Seems we have to shorten up the shows. Once they reach a certain time threshold I am finding the feed doesn’t pick up the entire podcast… live and learn and keep moving forward I say…

Oh, and as for the few short-sighted artists out there who think I am completely self-serving, self-promoting, who can't, won't, or don't buy into a greater arts community vision: go take a flying leap through a rolling donut...

This is just a blog. I can write that.

Rocky Nash exclusive, premieres hockey song on Buck City Podcast 12! - By N.L. Belardes

In an exclusive for Bakersfield's Buck City Podcast, Rocky Nash and Preston Nash enter the N.L. Belardes studio to talk music, radio, and hockey. This show is a must listen as Rocky Nash premieres the hockey song 'Bobblehead'. A cut from the N.L. Belardes compilation 'Growing Up Fighting', 'Bobblehead' is one of two Rocky Nash hockey songs.


This CD will feature original hockey songs from:
Rocky Nash
Mento Buru
Exithead
Myndsick
RidiKule
The Filthies
The KooKooNauts
Seven to the Right
Fatt Katt and the Vonzippers
Heath Dobbler and the Red Head Explosion

Having technical difficulties due to the length of show... Future shows will now be around 30 minutes in length... sorry...

Try downloading the MP3 of Episode Twelve, 'Rocky Nash Premieres Bobblehead'... If you do click on a chicklet, try podnova or click on an episode which goes to Podcast Alley where there is a cool 'Podcast Player'. But don't discount iTunes. The Buck City Podcast is now on iTunes, Podfeed, Podnova, Podcast, PodcastHostDirectory, PodTower, Podcast Directory, Podcast Pickle, Podcasting News, podcaster world, Odeo.com and Podfeeder... and yes, I did say iTunes! That's the biggie. Go ahead and look, you'll see the Buck City Podcast right there in the music directory...

And no, you don't have to have a MAC to download iTunes. Just go to apple.com and download right now! It's great! A great search engine for podcasts, a great look and feel, and you can listen with ease, with auto updates!


Coming soon: Calico Sunset, Burning Image, and a night at the Mark Chavez band debut

Saturday Night Fever - By N.L. Belardes

In my precursor to a Saturday night of thumb twiddling I decided that fun and games could only properly commence with a nice snow cone. I hummed as I ate it; tried singing like I was a full-on band in the Bakersfield music scene: I got a little rockin'--you know... tried to mumble along with some Lostocean keyboard sounds in my head ala Skyler the virtuoso. Sal from Liars and Thieves came to mind so I played some air guitar--sort of a blend really of Sal, Kenny Mount, James Ratliff, Paul from Exithead and Doris Day... She was added for some sunshine.

I gotta go. I have some more board games to play and I was thinking about drawing a chalk hopskotch in my driveway... it's a big Saturday night in the Bakersfield music scene...


My goodness they look peaceful don't they?

Have a listen to the Buck City Podcast on Podcast Alley - By N.L. Belardes

Listen to the Buck City Podcast on an entirely new player at Podcast Alley and get a dose of controversy... you can either download the file or better yet, click on the podcast player...

Forget the podcast pickle...they were too sour.

Stay tuned for podcasts from Rocky Nash and an entirely new format starting with Calico Sunset who played live in the N.L. Belardes studio...

New guava flavor, same old bottle - By N.L. Belardes

Before I go making a big announcement that you will all appreciate. Before I go and post a blog where the music community speaks out: oh, you'll like this one. Kenny Mount and friends basically call me a pussy. Norfolk cracks a few jokes, and so on and so on. But that's OK. I can appreciate tough love.

I can also appreciate an evening of board games. I'll post that blog in the next few days. Still gathering band hate and love mail.

hahaha... OK, even that was too harsh, but heck, I even made an appearance at the Smoke Hole when I said I wouldn't. The scene is bigger than me I'm telling you...

In the meantime, my drink of choice is still Jarritos, but Guava today. I was thinking something a little more tropical since the War Days Director has been in Maui looking at big pufferfish floating aimlessly like the Bakersfield music scene.

Ouch. Do you need a writer?

Enjoy!

Last night in the music scene - By N.L. Belardes

I had such a fun evening last night. "Oh! A card for ICEland!" I was shocked. I never put armies in iceland. What would I do?

I lost.

So I moved on to a more devilish game.


Connect it, baby, connect with that scene... I mean, game!

I lost at that too... so devilish... see if I ever play again.

I don't like to lose. Neither does Jagels I hear. I'm sorry. Bad Joke. You know I recently read what Clay Pigeon had to say about me. I like that guy. I posted a brief rebuttal, not nearly hefty enough like I could have. I mean, if a scene wants to be truly great, then artists all have to support each other. I'm sure a few painters, construction workers, moms, PG&E; guys, software developers enjoy punk rock. According to Clay's theory, if you don't like it, then don't support it, or just supprt half the man. Doesn't seem fair. I say support an entire art scene, not just punk rock, not just metal, not just photo art of hot Asians... you can draw fans from everywhere. Anyway. Read what Clay has to say. He makes some good points that you might agree to. Here was my rebuttal:

I like Clay. He's even grittier than you, Heath! Here Here! And good point on that my photo art isn't punk rock, but then, neither is writing, so why read at all? Gotta support the artist and not punish me because I can take pictures, write, paint, etc... support the whole person, the whole scene, the whole of the moon, not just the dark side... I supported bands on and off the stage, writing bios for free, taking photos, consulting... that means I was supporting bands when they were not just playing the tunes. I made flyers, I promoted a few shows... With that said, I think we can assume that I wanted support in all facets of me... not just one little dimension of me... just because I didn't write it, didn't mean it wasn't true. Dear goodness, don't believe everything I write, especially when I write to just support my books. Hell, I even cooked food for a whole lot of musicians. Remember my salsa you bands? Damn good, and I served people. I am a servant. But servants need to be treated fairly.

Pop Culture, the Devil, and the Lords of Bakersfield war of words - By N.L. Belardes

There’s a war of words going on between the Bakersfield Californian and the local District Attorney that’s been waged for some time. Turn your granny clock back to 2003: Robert Price, columnist for the Bakersfield Californian, also recently known as ‘Stubble’ the blogger on Bakersfield.com, with the permission of the Bakersfield Californian took a major pot shot at Ed Jagels, the assistant DA, an old commish, the publisher of the Californian at the time, and local justice corruption in a series of news articles titled “The Lords of Bakersfield” The subheading goes as follows: Powerful gay men. Vulnerable teen-age boys. Murder. For years, some prominent local men who led secret lives were rumored to be protected. Whispers surrounding another important man's death prompt the question: Is there really a conspiracy?

A conspiracy, yes. A lot of knowledge about it floating around the undercurrent of Bakersfield society, yes. Someone willing to write a book about a portion of it? That would be me, that would be Ed Humes, and the gal who wrote Valley Fire; so yes again; how about a society of terrified folk, unwilling to go public with their stories? Oh yeah, you know folks are afraid. They still are even after I’ve been throwing ghost stories left and right based on some creepy tales that are still passed around at barbecues in Buck City. But that’s something to explore a little later. Let’s take a brief look at the potential impact on the popular culture because of the 2003 Californian articles…

Quite daunting, the heading font for these 2003 stories that overturned the rock labeled "Lords of Bakersfield" had the look and feel of popular culture film series, The Lord of the Rings. Such ‘font’ usage hinted that Jagels was a local Sauron of sorts, perhaps Bakersfield his land of Mordor, a host of cronies as his orc and goblin henchmen to do his alleged perhaps mythical deeds: filing and losing papers, thuggish phone calling, lawmaking, arresting, slamming together a cop mafia to terrorize and protect, and so forth; goodness knows the land of The Californian was perhaps like the Shire, only this more compact, a grand hobbity brick-made hill where Mr. Price and a host of journalists could lay hidden behind computer terminals, nearly buried underground in a hobbiton villa of journalists, but he the lone Frodo to carry the weight of such dastardly stories on his shoulders, to finger the ring of the ‘Lords of Bakersfield Myth News Articles’ that he must forever wear; and then continue to lay aim at the local witch hunter gone awry, Ed Jagels.

Oh and yes, Price with journalist pen in hand, and from that very Hobbiton, could head straight into his landscape of dark justice and missing files, and has, where hills of bad deals and incarcerated victims, goodness knows, who may be innocent lay interred in lonely countryside prisons for supposed murders, satanic crimes and who knows what; all jailed by that Sauron who plucks folks from the citizenry and simply terrorizes the masses because of his ability to incarcerate. Oh, I’m sure he does throw bad guys in jail. But it makes us all wonder, and angers our dear Frodo-like news man and Gandalf publisher just the same. I dare say it must make him a bit weary at times as the Californian’s dear publisher, Virginia Moorhouse, who like a wizardy white-haired Gandalf must wield Frodo like a staff at times, her grand weapon from her brick-layed Hobbiton tower.

The most recent war in Friday’s August 12 edition of the Bakersfield Californian, and on Bakersfield.com has Robert Price taking aim into the heart of Mordor, where behind the scenes he may be looking for the next big Jagel’s story: a document with Jagel’s name on it that might further implicate the Lord DA evildoer as the grand wizard of wrongdoing. In the meantime, such documents lurk in boxes not yet discovered—that hidden gem, that golden treasure, and Sauron knowing all the while that Frodo-boy Robert Price is searching for that hidden document that could forever nail Jagels and get these Lords stories cast into some equivalent of Mt. Doom: some cyberland pit of Bakersfield lore; so that afterwards, Price can finally move onto the next story in his fascination with the corrosive powers of Bakersfield political and judiciary machinery. Chug-chug-ka-chug sputter they go… he will find more I’m sure.

Just what really happened? Did the dark Lord of justice try grappling with Price first? Yes, this latest media-DA fracas is all about the Richard Maxwell and Sons’ case and who shot who, and who is intimidating who, and Jagels buddies are thinking the Californian was up to polluting the jury pool… And Jagels most hilarious statement? As he, so Sauron-like plays to what he may hope are the mind-manipulated of our mostly Conservative landscape and preaches, “It is sad to contemplate on one hand the lies and distortions with which Maxwell has been painted (by the media), and on the other the free ride given to the man who killed him.”

The hilarity? This is coming from a man who even the rock and rollers of the Rolling Stone took a misguided jab at, who newspapers all over the world have taken jabs at. Here’s a law man stirring the bucket with lawyer-speak. Doesn’t he know folks watch law shows on TV like sitcoms these days? People know lawyers are all actors. People know Sauron deceives just as people know the media always has an agenda. Political? Ask Virginia. Full of integrity? Ask Virginia. Worthy of our time? Certainly. Thank you, Robert Price. He’s as witty as they come. I don't care who put him up to it or the political reasons why.

Why? Because the Californian through Price’s eyes, may just be saying, “Get your facts straight little Jagels of the corrupt Bakersfield system…” Even so, the local newspaper can’t help if people can read, and that a certain fraction of honest citizens actually allow the media to make their decisions for them. The Californian can’t help that. They tell one perspective of the media; they know who their leader is; they know about how much mass consciousness they affect. But it’s not their fault. It’s the individual who chooses to believe. And if some reader of the Californian is interviewed by a DA cronie to be a potential juror, then, so what? Hell, why doesn’t the DA just believe in his prosecution's ability, that maybe he had a slam dunk case? Or is that the problem? Not having a slam dunk case? Hit the rim again Jagels? …he must hate that as he watches the case go flying out of bounds as if on slow-mo, all the while being called in a matter-of-fact play-by-play by the witty and feisty Mr. Price: “There goes Jagels shooting from dowwwnnntowwwnn! Uh-oh. Brick.”

Just read the recent article Price wrote compared to Jagel’s. Price argues, “Where are the missing documents!” While Jagels softly indicates to me, “Bakersfield is a peaceful police force. People complain simply because they do their job.” Is he saying that because a man or woman wears a uniform that suddenly integrity and honesty befall every single officer on the force? Who was that years ago in uniform caught raping and murdering prostitutes at a local cemetery? David Rogers? I think that was his name. I could be wrong. Doesn't matter that he was a sherriff. He was a man in uniform. Who had a local hockey team of cops called, “Excessive Force”? And those battered stuffed seal jokes? Wow… No, there are good cops and bad cops. That’s reality.

Now sift through the comments on ‘Stubble the Lords Hunter’s’ blog—a hint that Bakersfield folks have been afraid, but are now fed up with Jagel’s poor taste in justice.

Most of the comments seem to be media-sided and a few speak out against that. One blog comment states:

Not mutually exclusive... however, the media seems to be one sided on the issue. Blog posters are grouping Maxwell with Jagels and placing the two in the same category. I am not a Jagels fan but I am a supporter of Peace Officers. I beleive that when an Officer of the Law gives an order or a request, that request should be followed. Maxwell's authority as an Officer of the Law is being thrown in the gutter and paralled to Jagels inappropriate actions. The two are seperate people and issues and should be treated as such. Whether Jagels or Tauzers bahaviors were appropriate or not Maxwell was and is not available to defend himself. Give Maxwell's family some peace... after all the man was protecting Bakersfield to the best of his ability. How many bloggers are willing to holster up and serve not knowing what kind of deminished mental capacity or drug enduced person they encounter? People are unpredictable!!

I of course have something to say about such a misinterpretation and try to get at what's really at the heart of the problem:

As a blogger I agree with the last post to a point--if Maxwell was in the right, then lock the bastard Sons up. But if court documents were tampered with and gone missing because the potential to lose a case... well there is the problem... the police officer becomes the victim of both the bastard who shot him, and the court system. That's the problem, and Jagels is apprently at the center of it painting a rosy picture of himself, law, police officers that just isn't always true... I can side against bloggers; I do all the time. But can an officer side against corrupt justice? I doubt it. A blogger isn't a group of people who all have coffee and sit and agree. People who blog are people like yourself. You blogged by commenting, so you're a blogger too. Bloggers are a segment of diversity, not all liberal or Conservative or all a bunch of kids...


Now just why is Bakersfield society so slow to act is Jagels is so corrupt?

Because no one will run against Jagels? Because people are just flat afraid of Jagels sending his legions of orcs to carry away our children, and then our friends, and then lastly, and most tortuously, us, right out from under our beds; those creepy hands of the law telling us we’re satanic when they’re the ones with horns, sharp teeth, and forked tongues… The power of Jagel’s law is the power to intimidate in a court of law, or the threat thereof, and the follow-thru with incarcerating for the sake of creating mass paranoia. Because don’t we all fear the satanic, the child molesters, the orcs, the Sarumans, the cops, the Nazgul, the seal of Jagels being tattooed on our hineys in a dark prison.

Where local promoter Nate Berg was the baseball bat of poor consciousness for alleged intimidation, what is Jagel’s nickname going to be in the end? Maybe it’s time you made up one, not me. I hear local gay entertainer Enrique Fuentes calls Jagels and his ex, ‘J. Edgar Bagels and his cream cheese ex-wife’. But is this really comedy? Is this funny at all? It’s not fun to be scared and I have even had professors scared for my life for writing a book, which story takes place in part one in 1977-1978. Is the Lords of Bakersfield boogeyman really going to get me? No, I’m sure the best collector’s items copies of my book will have three signatures on it: Belardes, Price, and Jagels.

But then, there is humor in some of this if we realize we’re in a society where David Lettermans often calm the nation. In the end if we can’t laugh at our cultural, judicial, political pitfalls—and mock them to some degree—then we will have a really hard time with ever analyzing this mess of local Lords of Bakersfield myth-making in action. Because that is what’s happening. It’s media versus DA, the novelist versus corruption, fears versus boogeymen, and it’s the stuff history books are made of that simply end up concluding something like, “In the Tammany Hall scandal, the beastly boss took bribes for votes…” or in this case, “In the Bakersfield scandals of the early new Millennium, a local district attorney monster incarcerated supposed ghouls for political aim and mass media manipulation of the conservative consciousness…” Why, because the fear of the DA and his alleged corrupt circle is still lasting from intimidation wreaked decades ago.

We can all be afraid, or we can all not be afraid and poke fun, and write books and expose stories and accept that culturally we do need to move on, close certain doors, laugh a little, cry a little, and not let the ghosts of the DA’s current and past consciousness get to us.

Connection point, N.L. steps into a smoke hole - By N.L. Belardes

Sometimes things happen in the Bakersfield music scene that are bigger than the individual. Sometimes the overall vision is greater than one band, or greater than my blog that tries to capture some of its essence; greater even than my gripes that recently stated I would not attend any more shows.

I had informed the Silver Fox Bar that I wasn’t showing up to their Thursday night festivities in an email written to them yesterday. I figured I could do that since Silver Fox representative, Mike B. recently directed me to a web site graphically laced with his political views of American policies killing babies in the Middle East. Of course, when I directed him to my site in a fair-is-fair you showed me your dead baby site and your political views and so now I will show you my blip of a redneck town music community site and a meaningless bit of music gossip rhetoric… you know, so he could learn some of my music scene views as compared to his recent ‘American bombarding of dead baby’ views. I figured, no problem, he would look, see what my beef was with being disappointed in local bands, and all would be well in the universe... I mean, I am very kind about not turning this into a political blog. I can honestly say Bakersfield Music Scene Gossip and the Arts is not a political platform. None of you know what my political views are.

Of course it seemed that it just pissed him off that I directed him to my site like he’d directed me to the dead baby site, so he wrote, “Well excuse me for not keeping up with your day to day movements. Fuck dude, all I did was invite you to a gig…” And he wrote that this morning… why do I mention that?

Believe it or not, I actually went to the gig: Norfolk and Liars and Thieves playing over at the smokiest hole in town: The Silver Fox Bar.

I mean, these are the kind of people I’m dealing with in the music scene. I wrote him back and let him know that I actually was there. I even bought a beer. I even stood right in front of Norfolk while some drunken lurch of a woman kept throwing her arms around man after man. One young lady said, “Did she piss her pants?” These are inconveniences you have to put up with in smoke holes; I can look past them. A whole lot of great musicians were in attendance: the guys from Seven to the Right, Liars and Thieves, Norfolk, and Another Year, some dude from Seed; not to mention, Les Paw was in the house—he’s the bassist for that Latino-edged rockabilly band, Fatt Katt and the Vonzippers—the only non-country band to regularly play the Crystal Palace other than Cake.

Why do I bring this up? Perhaps for the very reason I didn’t stay home to play board games and knit a sweater for the next door three-am-yapper dog—a nice cardigan with no neck hole so that annoying mutt might be muffled for once…

Like I was saying, sometimes the music scene is bigger than the gripe. It just so happened that last night was an important connection night in the great Cosmos. I had to backtrack on not attending shows. This was more important than anything I had to say. Forget about the smoky martini shack; forget about my anger at not wanting to attend shows. Twain the two shall meet, and they did, and I was right… to promote all you have to do is be creative, and I was, and folks said I was nuts, and… you want to know what the connection was, and I’m not telling… but I’m one step closer to proving that you develop a dream and then you plant the seeds, nurture the media, allow talent to run its course, and whammo! A dream comes true… I won’t be the crazy one in the end, and a few guys are already realizing that this old man has some marketing magic up his sleeve.

Lost Ocean wasn’t crazy when they asked me during the reggae-less reggae fest to be their manager. I was flattered. But I said a kindly, “Sorry boys.” But there are a few bands here who know that being successful takes good marketing know-how, credibility, and pro-active behavior... I am very excited about the ‘connection point’ last night; very excited about its potential.

It’s too bad the Silver Fox had to curse at old N.L. the next morning as if I had slept with that dirty old bar in my smoke-infested jeans and then tried to throw my arms around its cold buns in the morning. It had been a great night regardless of the cold slap in the face. And yes, last night served its purpose even if that young whippersnapper James Ratliff did sing into a sock.

Who Killed Peter Will? Buck City Podcast Episode 11 - By N.L. Belardes

Listen to the Buck City Podcast and get a dose of controversy...

The RSS Feed isn't properly working on iTunes. If the entire show doesn't download... just download below... or go to podnova (podnova.com), enter "buck city podcast" and click on episode 11. There is a built-in player on that page.

Here's the MP3 for Who Killed Peter Will?...


Tutti Fruti. Is it so bad?

Dobbler writes his three cents on N.L. - By N.L. Belardes

Heath Dobbler jumped into the foray. He wrote a piece titled, "Local disgruntled author sends message to Bakersfield bands." Only inaccuracy... I don't admit to 5000 hits a day...

Forget the Tamarind flavor of Jarritos. It sucks.

Who Killed Peter Will? Buck City Podcast Episode 11 - By N.L. Belardes

Listen to the Buck City Podcast and get a dose of controversy...

The RSS Feed isn't properly working on iTunes. If the entire show doesn't download... just download below... or go to podnova (podnova.com), enter "buck city podcast" and click on episode 11. There is a built-in player on that page.

Here's the MP3 for Who Killed Peter Will?...


Tutti Fruti. Is it so bad?

Did N.L. throw in the towel? - By N.L. Belardes

This is the question everybody wants to know the answer to: did N.L. throw in the towel on the Bakersfield music scene? I’m surprised Heath Dobbler didn’t post the email I sent him. He’s the one with the big scoop. Come on Heath, you gotta jump on these big stories. He could have thrown in a headline, like: “Dobbler with the big scoop: Local disgruntled author declares an end to attending local shows.” Or something like that…

Studio 99 approached me when I was still happy with my orange soda in the scene about covering a Mark Chavez (former front man of Adema) show. At the time I said yes. But that was the day before the rock and roll-less art show. Come on Studio 99, I can’t even get the unknown cool Bakersfield bands to support me with their presence, and you want me to show up and ogle over Mark Chavez and snap photos (like that killer one I took of throatshot! and do a snappy happy write-up to boot? Is this musician going to support me as an artist in return? Fat chance. I tell you what. If Mark Chavez contacts me… I met him once after riding in Kenny Mount’s mortuary van—boy was that a ghost ride. I doubt if Mr. Chavez remembers me as the one who snapped a photo of Motor Mount and he as they stood outside of the Filthies and B2 studios. As I was saying, if Mark Chavez contacts me and says, “Oh heck yeah, I am all for an artist in the music scene coming out and covering the event; N.L., you will get my full support!” If that happens, then I just might reconsider throwing in the towel for at least that show. If he cares about the music scene in Bakersfield, then I think he would do that…

If I don’t hear from Mark Chavez, then I am sure the local kids will continue to show him support. As for me. I’m in it for the much needed artistic cross-support. I do quality work for free so I can get musicians and artists to say, “Yes, I will support you.” Call me an idealist, but then I expect follow-thru with bodies attending my shows. Fair is fair. I’m a different form of the media… No one pays me so I need some kind of payment…

As for the rest of the local band scene… if it ‘unifies’ and approaches me with a nice birthday card or some kind of like gesture, then I will consider coming back to my lovely music scene bride and work hard to keep it happy with a friendly face in the media with killer pics and write-ups. (No, it’s not my birthday, but you know what I mean). If there is value to what I have done and it is meant to be, then it will happen.

In the meantime, I’m just going to kick it with my orange soda and enjoy the free evenings…


viva la mandarina!

Orange soda, good music and a long night at Studio 99 - By N.L. Belardes

I had an orange soda—Jarritos brand from the Rancho Market—in the bottle. It’s a fiesta every time I go inside the market on South H Street here in Bakersfield, Ca. I dance down the aisles to the music overhead. I buy a little carne asada. I get home. I cook it up while making a fresh salsa. And I drink a Jarritos: Guava, lime, orange...

I didn’t have a way to get to Studio 99 the other night when I’d just popped the lid on that big orange flavored Mexican drink. I called everyone I knew; even Enrique Fuentes was off riding in his big silver Mercedes. He’d already hit the road to Hollywood for some shindig with Michelle Pfiefer. What’s up there? I had my orange Jarritos in hand and went to the Internet and posted a bulletin. Pretty soon I had several offers: JR, a kid I didn’t know, and Daniel from Studio 99. But then Flower in the Dale offered to drop me and my Jarritos off in the central Bakersfield warehouse district: Buck Owen’s backyard, not more than a fat bottle rocket’s flight from Antonino Street to one of those creepy mannequins standing like Gunsmoke Sentinels on Buck’s big Crystal Horse: The Crystal Palace balcony.

It was around 7:30 when I arrived. I had hoped to catch Endrio’s set. These guys are super intense hardcore and I could hear them keeping pace with their own wildly beating hearts… But then the show ended before I could get to the door to see them rocking.

Backstage I saw some of them trying to catch their breath; they did. I just sipped my orange soda and smiled. Rock and rollers passed back and forth from an assortment of bands. There was about five in all for the evening. Some people went to go sit on a couch. Others passed posters and CDs around. I guess they didn’t know I reviewed them. I was just a strange old face in the room drinking an orange soda and holding a camera. Who knows? Maybe they thought I was a groupie tourist.

I shook a few hands here and there. But then I heard From Ritual to Romance finishing setting up.

I was hungry. I didn’t eat dinner. But I still had some orange soda left.



Next up was Big Daddy Ruben ValVerde, freshly turned 21, and still suffering from the previous night’s birthday celebration. The show went fine. Rhythm guitarist, David broke a few strings and cried about it. I would too. It’s a pain in the butt changing those things. I heard someone mutter, “That’s why you have a back-up guitar.” All I could think was these guys break equipment cause they’re such wild rock stars. They’re probably down to their last instruments. Their music sounded clean and hard and tough. Ruben screamed like he was dying. It was just part of the song and so no mouth-to-mouth was needed. He knows I’m kidding. I told him after the show how much I enjoyed the set. He claimed it was one of their worst. Oh well. That’s why I’m a writer and not some sound expert.



I saw Marky Pope: security thug extraordinaire; old Tule Fog Mascot; hockey fighter skater thug on the in-lines... We traded a few stories and then I went and leaned up against a wall. I got fidgety. I took a picture of a beat car in the back lot.



Then I went and leaned against the wall some more. Not a lot of N.L. Belardes fans in this place. That’s what I get for not bringing flyers. Some dudes with pizza boxes passed into the backstage area… No problem. I can’t eat cheese; I wouldn’t beg for any.

Next up was North Hollywood band In This Moment. Maria Brink was hot. She could sing, move, scream like Shane and was peppered with the coolest tattoos. I took some of her hand farther into the night. Why not? She was all for it. Their set was intense, dark, spirited—not dismal or unentertaining at all—and she even went into the audience to shake it up with the kids lusting after her and the band’s great music…





Next up was band, Bleed the Sky. I was still plastered up against a wall. I snapped some pictures while wondering if any of the bands in the joint would head out to my art show the following morning. Not that I expected Bleed the Sky to go. I didn’t even meet them that night. None to worry. They were almost as intense as In This Moment, but not quite there. I saw Simon of Myndsick. He’s got a messed up knee he’s nursing, so he limped into the show…



Finally Throatshot was up. These guys are so intense and put on such a dark mood you almost have to go zombie on them, raise your arms and walk bug-eyed toward the stage like some undead music hungry beast. Brad sang and wrapped his mic chord around his hand like a garrote ready to choke himself or anyone nearby. I hoped it wasn’t me. I had a few pictures to take.



Rohan—he’s the guy who played me a song off their CD that’s being mastered. He played it over at the Fish Fry where his truck was parked. He told me before the show that the CD wasn’t mastered yet. No wait, I think that was Darin who told me… Rohan jammed at the keyboards. These guys are so dark I swear monsters come crawling from the walls, creep towards the stage like demons sprouting wings then monstrously do some kind of otherworldly incubus cha-cha because they want to hear the music so bad. Maybe it’s my mind that just plays with me at such moments… but Throatshot wins hands down for the darkest music in Bakersfield. I proudly present them with a bloody goblin head trophy for such darkness…hurry, take it guys, it’s dripping on my Docs. I really like their music; it's better than Korn to me. Forget that someone muttered, “Their vocals are too loud.” I walked right up to the stage and shot them all with my own bloody lens eye… snap after snap while their demented music washed over me… I captured such music as only Bakersfield post-hardcore industrial experts like Throatshot could throw upon me with such horrific destruction in musical genius…






Hands down, my best music scene photo.
It was a lucky shot...

As for Throatshot's music? It was beautiful.

And I was hungry. So I only hung out for part of My Ruin. About three songs worth. Then I hitched a ride home...





I’d just spent hours capturing the history of the moment. Who for? The musicians? The fans? For the sake of history?

I went home and went to bed.

I knew I was going to have a long day the next day what with writing blogs and then attending a brief art show and all.

Only one band showed up to the art show. It's OK. A lot of people had things to do. Heath Dobbler had to help his dad. Some band went camping. Norfolk was somewhere. The Dalloways were digging trenches. 22 bands were somehow on stage between 5-7 pm the next day because none of them made it out, The Filthies were in the studio. Blah Blah Blah...Another had to do something else...others said they just didn't know about the art event. How tragic.

Oh wait, I almost forgot, I spent almost five hours at Studio 99 that night. But I guess I didn't have anything to do other than be there...

I'm just there to sacrifice my time and support the bands.

We'll see if I attend any more shows from here on out.

The music scene has JR and Belton and Dobbler.

I'm guessing that's plenty of folks to cover it all.

It was nice doing business with ya Bakersfield music scene.

CD Review. New York City rock and roll in Nevereven's Kilter - By N.L. Belardes

You want to play rock and roll in New York City. You get a group of guys together; you toss together dreams like a big friendly salad full of leafy greens. You build a repertoire of songs, and even make a CD in a band called Nevereven. Your genre is straight-up rock and roll. And then just like New York is a city that survives even the biggest of global attacks, your little band has to weather some break-up storms. In fact, I just read in Nevereven’s recent blog:

Well, well, well. It wouldn't be a summer without some summer events now, would it? First off:

Remember the acoustic shows we were talking about? Yeah...not happening. It was a long shot...but they're not happening.

Remember us keeping the same line-up for more than 6 months? Yeah...not happening. Braden is gone and we're finding new guitarists. We wish him well.

Remember us giving up? Yeah...not happening. We have shows already lined up for August, new reviews on the way and hopefully much more stuff on the horizon.

Bands...if you want to trade shows after August, we're game.

Till then, Kenny is playing 15 in Europe, Scott is delivering the hot buns, and I'm enjoying a clear head for once in a long time.

-gary

With that said I received a CD in the mail from caffeine free Pepsi drinker and frontman of Nevereven, Gary Pickard. Gary wanted me to do a CD review and of course I was up for it. It’s just I kept putting my review of their six-song CD on the backburner. You know how time flies when you’re having fun in Buck City: having lunch with Buck Owens everyday, playing remote control cars with Brian Head Welch of Korn, helping land the space shuttle out in the nearby desert. It’s a tough job to be a Bakersfield celebrity. But even so, rock and roll is here to stay. So when I spin a bit of an older CD like Nevereven’s Kilter, the first thing I ask is, “When do I get to hear the really new stuff?”

But then such thoughts leave my mind and I start to think, this is a CD from the heartland near Ground Zero, right on the front lines of terrorism vs. America. Instantly I wanted to hear some good rock tunes, didn’t matter what they are about. I was pulled in to the distant thought of music from New York close to what I call in my novella Thick White Crust, 'dia de los rascacielos'.

It doesn’t matter that Nevereven has gone through more changes than shuttle tiles and my own endless book edits. The heart of the music in Gary Pickard’s and Kenny Grohowski rock and roll dreams for a band is still right there in 2003’s Kilter…

Enter the world of Nevereven, a band of hard-rocking guitar pop riffs with catchy tunes and hopeful lyrics of a world of unbroken love. Track one, “Starshine” is a bright love song, a love ballad ready to take human love to a new level. “You call my name, the voice that echoes softly in my mind. I can see the starshine captured in your eyes…you make it seem so bright…” You can say that Nevereven as a band is ready to take their music to a new level. This is an anthem song that builds relationships with listeners and shouldn’t be forgotten when they move on to new material.

In a post-terrorized society rocked by big cataclysmic events, rock and roll needs to be hopeful. Nevereven brings such hope through another love ballad, “Lay Me Down’. It’s almost as if they’re saying that people need to focus on some serious love during a time of crisis. The song begins with a catchy, dancy guitar riff. “Lay Me Down” is just as energetic of a rock song as “Starshine”. It takes the idea of despair and acts on it to say, “Now is the time you have to…reach deep in your soul… I will bring your fears to light…you and I can turn your night to day.”

“You were always close at hand. You would always understand,” sings Gary Pickard as he explores the life path in a song titled, “Chance”. You love someone; you take a chance. People say they feel the same. It’s two-way trust and Gary explains such simple relationship-building ideas in how to trust one another even after a break-up. I got into the song in the guitar solo that took the song’s melody and flung it into a spinning, grinding guitar bridge… And then just after the solo Gary let’s out a wail of hope, “We can find a way to be together again.” I wonder if we really want such used up love. But then such love could be just for a city like New York that many people may have loved to hate and hated to love, yet did…

Track four, “Walking the Line” really rocks us hard. “All the world’s a freakshow cause all the world’s a stage,” Gary sings. I would want to write something similar if I were in such a great American melting pot of a city where millions converge daily in the hustle of big city fast life. “You can’t get away…” goes the lyrics just before a wail of a solo that would have any hard rocker doing some serious New York style head banging. I’m rocking out at my computer right now as I type this. This is my favorite song on the CD.

After a lengthy intro, “Guardian Angel” talks through lyrics of being down and out, with multiple problems and is a song that pleads with a guardian angel metaphor to help the narrator make it through the day. We can meet someone, anyone and with a special connection can suddenly feel like that guardian angel is near. Security and guidance—we all need it to get through life… Once again, it’s the rock riffs that transform into powerful solos that get me. It’s what rock is all about—the template of verse chorus verse chorus, bridge solo and so forth… gotta love power pop rock…

The final track begins with an acoustic guitar then pours on some electric power chords. Gary’s voice comes in like a secret that’s just been exposed, “There’s no need to be alone…just remember all that you’ve been…fly away from here…take my hand.” This is a love ballad supreme filled with hope. Remember 2003 was less than two years after horrendous acts of terrorism. A soldier from Bakersfield, California recently died as a result of such a chain of events and this city was in an uproar over one man’s funeral. Think of what New Yorkers still go through. The destruction of two towers, the ensuing jet disaster, and the tragedy of so much love lost. We may take for granted simple hopeful love songs here in Bakersfield; but in New York, what would such a song mean to certain individuals? Nevereven’s music offers power pop in a straight-up rock format, but with a hopeful New York City twist, as these guys hail from a city that has quite a powerful tug of energy on its people…

Nevereven will be playing this Sunday at the Viper Bar in Hauppauge, New York at 7pm

Sean Knight, The Blimperwhirls and fresh paint at the Pizza-a-go-go - By N.L. Belardes

I recently wandered past the Pizza-a-go-go. It was all lit up at the entrance of the Wall Street alley. Jon Coley and Sean Knight hung outside with go-go-pizza patrons out front; perhaps it was during a break of some show lighting up the rock and roll cavern. Maybe it was a big birthday pizza party with horns and hats. I don’t know. There was no evidence on the latter. Sean said, “Wait a minute,” then booked it to his car. I had never met Sean before other than a few emails here and there talking about the music scene and light sabers. He soon came running back with a black Sharpie and a copy of my 2003 children’s book, The Blimperwhirls.

(In case you don’t know, The Blimperwhirls is a funky little whimsical tale that is a Christmas must. The Imp of Christmas Doubt is one of the wackiest toy inventions ever, and it can poof! anything peppermint into dust. Poof! Poof! Poof! Oh yeah!)

Ok, enough of that… He bought one on Amazon, even though he could have bought one through iuniverse(buy now) for only 9.95. I signed his copy in the midst of a conversation with Jon Coley in one of those ‘state of the union’ kind of conversations about what’s going on with Jerry’s Pizza. “We’re going to slap down a fresh new coat of paint,” he said.

“Good, that will make it smell better.”

“Why don’t you give us a chance?”

“I do. I promoted Jerry’s Pizza on my podcast when World Wide Spies stopped by. I have also always had permanent links to Jerry’s so people can easily find what shows are playing there. Send any band over and I will do a podcast and help promote. But I’m not going downstairs into Jerry’s unless it’s cleaned up.”

“Why?”

“Because I used to come when it was cleaned up. I liked it then.”

“Where’s a punk rock venue that isn’t like Jerry’s”

“I dunno. The Boiler Room,” I teased.

“That’s not a punk rock venue!” he laughed.

“If punk rock bands play there then isn’t it a punk rock venue?” Well, that’s what I figure anyway. “Jerry’s used to play jangle pop like Jumping Trains years ago, so maybe they’re a jangle pop venue?”

“Well we just got new sound.”

“Cool.”

“What color should we paint the walls?”

“Something bright.”

“We can’t do it bright or people will write on the walls and it will show up. How about grey or red?”

“I’ll have to think about it. A fresh coat of paint is a start. It will make it smell better, cleaner. You slap that paint on and I will go downstairs, but not until then.”

“Red might be really cool. We’re going to scrape off the stickers tomorrow, put down the paint, start fresh again.”

And then I was off… the Wall Street alley never looked so sun shiny and hopeful. I imagined a rosy road ahead and Buck’s crystal horse taking me to a distant palace where even Cake is something you don’t just eat. “Getty-up!” I yelled and rode on to watch the Bakersfield Bukowski girls sing drunken into a karaoke midnight.

Oh yeah, I do like to review CDs - By N.L. Belardes

I normally don't toot my own horn, but these words from electro-pop sensation, Calico Sunset were just too kind:

thank you so much for the review... you really get what we are trying
to do. you are the only person who has ever figured out perfectly what the
songs are about. thanks again.

love,

joseph and jenny andreotti / calico sunset

Look for more reviews upcoming for Kawaii (Netherlands), and Nevereven (New York).

Put in a request. I like to review CDs from bands who want to network with me...

-n.l.

Calico Sunset CD Review for Deep Deep Paranoia - By N.L. Belardes

I was at the Empty Space recently, that place where my photo art hung (and still hangs for the next few weeks), and where Calico Sunset was the only Bakersfield music scene representatives to show up to the art opening. I had been a bit under the weather from it all, even though Joseph and Jenny did show up to drop off their album, Deep Deep Paranoia. Still grim the following day, even after doing write-ups about attending gigs, and two nights before giving 4-5 hours of my time at a hardcore Bakersfield show over at Studio 99. But now I was thinking, “What is it? Bands don’t understand I’m an artist too? Or do they only read my site when they know I’m going to write about them?” These are the wallowing pitiful thoughts of any novelist, artist or band: the need for recognition from fellow artists, not just from the 100s who read the blog and listen to the podcast.… Yeah, I knew something was going down at the Dome during my show; 22 bands worth of raucous Bakersfield sounds. But then I could list many bands who could have showed. I suppose it’s like this: I write about the music scene, so I wrongly expect all involved in music to keep up with my music news, and not just that, but to return the love. Traffic is incredible… between 500-1000 hits a day and growing. So what happened? Still exploring that one… Makes me wonder if locals will support the novelist in me more than the photographer…

All this whining and complaining; what is it leading to you might ask? I was home the next day, still in a grey fuzz when I decided to spin the Calico Sunset CD…

What a refreshingly happy techno album to listen to in our grim Bakersfield world and dark city of bad air, traffic congestion and recent high homicide rates. With echoes of New Order, Bjork, Joy Electric, the Sugarcubes, a hint of Portishead, and even the Sundays, Calico Sunset’s debut album Deep Deep Paranoia is a friendly cloud of light-hearted techno music for the embittered soul in need of rejuvenation. This isn’t a wimpy powerpuff girls soundtrack but a techno-filled CD of music meant for listeners of all ages who care about their happy souls. Bakersfield has been known more for its angry working class sounds in hardcore, Indie and country bands than for its 80s revival sounds in bands like the Dalloways and now Calico Sunset. And this is a signed band. Check out Velvet Blue Music.

The CD starts off with a techno drum beat symbolizing a synch-filled anthem to youth pop. “Sweet Sixteen, Dancing Machine” enlightens us to Jenny Alvis’ girlish voice that sings with as much confidence as those early Sugarcubes albums imported from Iceland in the 1980s. It’s a bit whiny, a bit seductive and playful, but with a lot of chorus melody and filled with a hint of Swing Out Sister swirled in with what you might call a ‘Bjork audio anthem’. Echoing the rest of the CD, Calico Sunset plays with techno sounds in repetitive patterns and drum loops that are as silly, passionate and fun as the distorted voices and light-hearted lyrics of the entire CD.

The smiling burst of guitars in “The Revival Fatale” after the distorted voice beginning makes for my favorite song from the CD; it’s possibly the most passionate-sounding. The music itself takes me back to days of listening to instrumentals by Johnny Marr of the Smiths and some of the guitar-driven New Order songs from their classic CD, Technique. Musicians Jenny Alvis and Joseph Andreotti are a fine duo in this song that I can’t really understand the lyrics, but I can listen along to its stripped down 80s sounds of happy-in-my-own guitar melodies that are so reminiscent of techno yesteryear. I have found myself listening to this song five and six times in a row, just wishing its patterns were happily implanted in my head as I needed such rejuvenation in song… I mean, who gives a fuck; it was just an art show, right? Now I have Calico Sunset.

The strength of “Limbs and Hymns” is its Bjork-sounding melodies that strike the listener between singing, “Makes me wanna, wanna pow! Pow! Pow! Words are weak, actions are strong. Is there meaning to this upset song…?” Forget the repetitiveness of the music. I can get over that for Jenny Alvis singing to me as if she’d just listened to Bjork’s Vespertine for the twentieth time straight. I love it. The synth bass is a rubber band sounding thump that falls in with the drum track; all overpowered by Jenny’s attitude-filled singing and high-pitched squeak just before each chorus. It’s the choir-like chiming voice that gets me though… Oops, I think I’ve just admitted my fascination for Bjork.

“Not Human” is a typical synth song you have heard a million times, except for one thing. Jenny Alvis is singing. She starts off singing over and over that she is not human, and just before you want to call her a dark robotic voice haunting this song, she pushes her voice into a chorus that is as catchy as any other song on the album. The synth layers help make this song a capable and loveable 80s revival piece.

“Crime Cinema” is a great name for a song. It moans like a siren that disappears into Jenny’s voice as if she is singing to herself in a mirror. I imagine her in an old 80s video, a cheesy story, a few dancers twirling about her as she sings in Madonna fashion to herself and then to her dancing minions. The piano chords chirp and the techno-fusion of its sound make this song one of those that cascade dark thoughts into a happy crescendo of Calico Sunset dreams. In the end, the song falls apart, purposely so, as if Jenny herself met a tragic ending to a low harmonica wail and wayward piano that drifts into a sea of stumbling sounds.

Dark bass techno sounds with the mix of Jenny’s voice has really taken me by this point. Why has this band been hiding from me? Jenny’s voice is seductive, “I’m in the trunk, blindfold on my eyes…Shut into the trunk with the blindfold on…” We’re there with Jenny who sings and moans, whispering in the darkness in the song, “Unsolved Mysteries.”

Of course Calico Sunset had to throw in a song called “Heavy Breathing” about some creepy stalker chasing some abstract metaphor of Jenny with a knife. “Breathe in, Breathe out, heavy breathing, heavy breathing…” she sings as if instructing us to be the very stalker himself… She gives us the moan of the heavy breather in a suck of air that when she pushes the air out in a moaning exhale, she makes us think that stalkers aren’t so bad if they sound like her…

“Break It” instantly reminded me of “Break Out” by Swing Out Sister. But then the song takes shape and Jenny becomes herself again: that youthful voice of Calico Sunset that is as easy to like as it is to fall into a happy mood while listening. Joseph does some strangely melodic synth sounds during a musical bridge and his guitar work, so slightly layered and under-powering gives the song a delightful edge as if the sounds themselves are fragile.

“The Frown Winter Found” is a rich song, full in its guitar sounds and Jenny’s vocals that blend in headphones magically… but why mention it—go explore for yourself…

The CD finishes off with a super techno ditty that sounds like it drifted from the 1980s onto their album, a lost track from Missing Persons that made its way into Calico Sunsets dreamy musical landscape. I would wonder if Jenny wears fishbowls, but Joseph might just pull one over my head…

Most Calico Sunset songs are under three minutes, but they all have a lasting flavor of retro 80s tunes synched to today’s alternative Techno lounge, electro-pop echoes. If you’re a fan of the 80s, or just a lover of happy music with a hint of a darkly seductive musical edge, then go buy the Calico Sunset CD and support the local arts; it’s rare that a band from Bakersfield is signed.

Please support the arts... the bands at least deserve it.

Calico Sunset will be playing tonight, Aug 8th at the Boiler Room

World Wide Spies on Buck City Podcast Episode Ten - By N.L. Belardes

In the seventh interview on Bakersfield's Buck City Podcast, LA Band World Wide Spies makes a historic appearance as the first out-of-town band to be interviewed in the N.L. Belardes studio. Meet Londoner, JFK, DAX, Izik, and Steve as they talk about past band tryouts and how JFK entered the band. All just before their big show down in the Jerry's Pizza cavern.

You have to listen to Episode Ten, and if you're an artist, in a band, or in theatre, you're going to want to do a podcast. Why? Because a podcast can be downloaded and listened to over and over again. It's not just a one-time radio thing... Go to my homepage and click on one of the chicklets, subscribe, or just wimp out and download the MP3 of Episode Ten, 'World Wide Spies in Buck City'... If you do click on a chicklet, try podnova. But don't discount iTunes. The Buck City Podcast is now on iTunes, Podfeed, Podnova, Podcast, PodcastHostDirectory, PodTower, Podcast Directory, Podcast Pickle, Podcasting News, podcaster world, Odeo.com and Podfeeder... and yes, I did say iTunes! That's the biggie. Go ahead and look, you'll see the Buck City Podcast right there in the music directory...

And no, you don't have to have a MAC to download iTunes. Just go to apple.com and download right now! It's great! A great search engine for podcasts, a great look and feel, and you can listen with ease, with auto updates!

If that isn't enough, my arts page just went through a major overhaul just to keep up with the new Buck City Podcast and the popularity it's already received. Take a look at the new simplistic look and feel...

Coming soon: Calico Sunset, Burning Image and a tribute to Peter Will...

The Marcco van, Norfolk, and the mystery dancer - By N.L. Belardes

The white van pulled up and several blaring honks screeched into the Oleander Arts Collective that seemed to rustle the very leaves of the great sugar maple outside my door. I peeked through the screen door, gathered a few trinkets and saw the trademark red lightning bolt ‘M’ on the Marcco/Norfolk van knifing across its chipped white paint… James Ratliff had arrived for one final fling in the old tour van… so much music history in an old vehicle now going for its final ride, this time to the Norfolk studio on Chester Avenue, then to Azuls: the blue-lit downtown venue once the home of Paco’s Taco’s.


One last trip in the old Marcco van...

I jumped in the van’s back seat. Pedro was in the passenger seat and James said for the hundredth time, “Hey Nick, this is my friend Pedro. Have you guys met?” I wanted to sock James in the head, but held back N.L. Belardes style, and just laughed and said, “Dude, you introduce us every time.”

James giggled as he hit the accelerator. The back seat I was on lurched as if about to flip over backwards. What the hell did I care? This was the final ride. We sped down to the studio where a gathering of the Norfolk tribe had already commenced. I helped gather equipment—one lousy mic stand, while I met some of the band’s buddies who were on a rescue mission from San Jose to pick up a wayward bass player stuck in the nexus of the Bakersfield landscape. They stood in a hallway and talked while the band rushed past with equipment to shove in van; a collection of trinkets to head east, downtown on a Silk road: the Marcco van to the exotic orient of Azuls.



The equipment was piled into the Marcco/Norfolk van for the next to the last time and off we went, headed for downtown’s Wall Street Alley. James drove past Azul’s at about ten minutes to nine and the doors were closed. None to worry. We parked right in the alley itself. The shoe shine man sat on a chair outside of the Alley Cat bar while several folks milled about on the alley street near the corner of the tattoo parlor.



Finally the doors opened. Peter Prevost stood with a big amp looking a little worn. He bustled inside of Azuls while several of us grabbed equipment to take out to the Azul patio. James handed out equipment while a haggard drunk passing by stood in line to tempt James for a handout. James handed him a guitar. With a shocked look and a grin the man said, “What? I was just kidding! I, uh…” and then he wandered to the back patio as if he were meant to be there to take part in the Marcco van’s last moment, to take out its musical innards and transplant them in the blue-lit bar. I’ll never forget the look on James’ face, smiling, laughing, with a triumphant look that such moments were worthy of rock and roll moments.

I walked into Azuls and introduced myself to Luis. I’d never met him before and he was very grateful for what Danielle Belton had been writing of his bar. Norfolk set up and I snapped a few pictures of the bar while Luis poured me a cider.


Luis pours me a drink...




The blue textures of the room...



The back patio of Azuls is small, and the stage, rung with a blue glow isn’t big enough to fit the entire band, but makes for enough of a stage gesture to draw center attention; it adds to an atmosphere of a hip counterculture scene perfect for Bakersfield’s bar alley haunts.

Norfolk put on as good of a set as usual, with Peter Prevost tearing into his guitar and doing his trademark hip shake and strumming. He said to me later, “I’m going to see Tom Petty at the mid-state fair!” Pablo smashed his drums to the point of pummeling his snare to death. He broke a few drumsticks but managed to triumphantly return to form… Jason Ford Turner was in a happy mood, thumping the bass, and before the show was doing a hilarious sound check that had everyone laughing at his antics. But then, everyone in Norfolk has a great sense of humor.



This alternative country band who deserves to ride that big crystal horse of Buck’s is a great tribute to the roots of country here in Bakersfield, California. My only complaint: their song, “Move to the City” was too short and left an unfulfilled taste in the air as if something endearing was going to echo from its rising passion, but then got cut off and lost...


The mystery dancer woos James...

The set ended with James laughing uncontrollably as someone started dancing a drunken mic-humping hula in front of James as if James were Jim Morrisson belting out a lost 70s tune to her loins. I think she had it all wrong. Do the two-step, not the sex-step. James stepped back with jaw-dropping glee and embarrassment which made for one of the funnest and funniest moments in local rock lore…


A ROCK STAR enthralled

And then I realized I had attended high school with this mad dancer. And that was back in the big 80s.







As Liars and Thieves and Nunez pounded out the ensuing two sets I hid in the bar and downed a few drinks, hoping that eye contact wouldn’t be made with this person I saw hip-gyrating to Sal’s music-driven “Yeahhhhhs”. But then the dreaded eye contact occurred and, shit, there’s no more point to this story…

The Voyage of Nate Berg - Part One - by Nate Berg

Yes, this story is direct from Nate Berg himself. Read on and be fascinated at such a tale of debauchery as the villain survives a storm and heads West, back to the land of Buck City... -n.l.

1. The Vicious Dog

We last left off.... me and you, with the telling of the story of the seven days I did at the Farm for trying to take a Lexus and comparisons between backstage at the Vans Warped Tour and the Correctional Authority Chowhall. Then the shotgun in my face as I tried to breakup a kidnapping, accidental heroism or nosiness, and my trip to Pensacola Florida. I was released/dethroned by Jerry Baranowski as Jerry's Inhouse Agent deservedly for corrupt, thuggish behavior when my nose should have been in the books of booking, not looking for new enemies to bring down.

I met up with my good friend Roger at Ruby Tuesdays in the Cordova Mall in Pensacola. I had originally met Roger at a Pensacola coffeehouse on a previous trip to visit my family. He was innocently eavesdropping on my conversation with three pretty females. An ex-Navy guy, Roger grew up in Delano, Ca, 30 miles from Bakersfield.

"You're from Bakersfield. I'm from Delano," he piped up. "Have you ever heard of Jerry's Pizza?" and the friendship grew from there. We both share a mighty sick sense of humor.

This time he brings a galpal Susan; we all gonna have some fun. But first we gotta deal with a natural aberration of enormous magnitude. Hurricane Dennis fast approached some thirty-six hours away. It was predicated to be a nasty one: Category 4.

Eighty-five percent of the town boarded up their houses and fled to Mississippi, Georgia... Ten percent of the population decided to ride it out, defend their homes from 140 mph winds, floodwater, and the ever present threat of looters. The remaining five percent would be up to no good; you could lump us in with that group.

Susan worked the phones to locate the possible social event of the hurricane. The apty called "hurricane party".

Of course, before the fact, a hurricane party is a mythical beast. After every person in a larger group exhausted every effort to find one, the entire group descended upon a mutual location, for a manic, orgylike, and drunken delirium of courage and stupidity. So as the eye of the hurricane made landfall twelve miles away, we got whipped by the outer bands of 140 mph winds, and got in the car and went to the Lagyoza House.

If you have ever been outside in a major hurricane, it is fair to say it is like being underwater without a snorkel, yet you're able to breathe. Water is driven at you from every direction, even upwards from the ground. Downed powerlines are a dangerous hazard to navigate. Roger's navy skills allowed us to decide what lines to ride over assuredly. Even inside the car we had to raise our voices to a shout in order to communicate with anyone riding in the car.

We got to Lagyoza's at the peak of the storm. Inside, there are a lot of people who I don't know and a lot of people who don't know me. There is also a lot of gin, vodka. It's candles only as the power is out over the entire city. A naked girl answers the door, another is running down the hall giggling. A booming revelry rings throughout the house, almost as loud as the winds that are coming from the Gulf of Mexico, to try and scoop us up.

We enter.

Later we leave to a different location, to go swimming in someone's pool. Like a underwater rollercoaster or crashing, chlorine ocean. Watch out for the whirling 2"x 4"s spinning round the yard! Heads up, there goes the neighbor kids tricycle!!! A good time for target practice. Roger's roommate Rob unwittingly supplies the .22 caliber WWII Luger. Nobody wanted any part of this, they were all passed out or simply thought the idea too dangerous, so I slipped alone behind the trees by the railroad tracks, engulfed by the whispering bushes as the worst had passed us by and the emptiness in other people's homes egged me on.

"You can do anything, anything that you want, you are unstoppable," she said to me, a siren voice, honey and comb. Seductive. There is something very familiar with her voice I can't label it; I've heard her before. She has whispered to me many times. Sometimes in the flesh; I just can't put my finger on which one she is and why.

It is time to see how other people live, see their bedrooms. Prowl around in their dry garages, because someone wants me to.

This one has a reinforced wooden gate. I break it down, smash the patio glass with the iron barbecue fixture. I try on a business suit in the master bedroom and look in the mirror. I look ridiculous in a suit with long, lank, greasy hair. I would have to get it cut before I could wear a suit again, there is something wrong with this picture. I ask the voice, but there is nothing. Just me in my soaking wet boxer shorts with the loaded Luger and bottle of Merlot, blood dark on my lips, cascading down my chin and neck onto my chest, staining the shirt and suit combo that would never make it back to the closet.

Attention People of Pensacola: Lock Up Your Car. Storm now over Roger and I make an agreement. I would cash in the return flight fare and put it in his gas tank, we would ride to Bako and Delano, like Thelma and Louise without the Evil Kinieval shit at the end of the movie. Stopping in New Orleans, Dallas, El Paso, Juarez, San Diego, Tijuana, Long Beach and maybe Hollywood. We would need to stock up on supplies and money. He would pack, I would punish the residents of Pensacola for their inability to lock up their cars as we waited for a money order from Roger's folks back in Delano. It took ten days and a lot of charm and some confidence scams before we get out of town, en route to Chester and 19th. The Final Line reads like this:

(editor's note - I am censoring out all the stuff I took, lets just say it was overkill ridiculous) We got plenty of food via military MREs, self sustainable rations given out during hurricanes. Roger could modify the sulfur heaters into letter bombs.

We had finally put Pensacola in the rearview mirror, and said good bye to all of our new friends on a Monday night, destined to make it to New Orleans and Bourbon Street before Midnight, to start leg one, that's when I told Roger of the "Cherry on Top".

We had both tired of this one guy, a charmless date-rape artist who showed both Roger and myself scorn when we came to pick up Susan a day or two earlier at his and his snob roommate's house. I forget his name but he had no respect for our friends at Lagyoza. So I excused myself to the bathroom and pissed in every container I could find (shampoo, conditioner, body wash, cologne....), got the sharpest knife in his imported knife collection from his kitchen, then excused myself to the car.

The Corpse Show that Rock and Roll missed - By N.L. Belardes

There was a great art show today...
It was a collaboration titled, The Exquisite Corpse.


Individuals created free form art...


The curator celebrated her grand arrangement


Artist, Elizabeth Hinkle collaborated...


Artist, Nancy Torii stood for a moment,
then contemplated her grand garden as her
next mighty project


Music was played in an impromptu collaborative style


My photo model was a sight to see...


The artwork itself was an exquisite corpse of parts,
laid out into intimate poses for everyone to see,
except for the Rock and Roll bands who didn't show up...

Some photos from the N.L. Belardes show at the Empty Space

Enrique Fuentes on the prowl again - by N.L. Belardes

Just when you thought Enrique Fuentes would never write again after those very entertaining Dysfunctional Theatre Reviews, think again. Enrique has just released the beginning of Queen Me! A Novella by Enrique Fuentes, Queen of the Downtown Fur. It's a hilarious trip of escapades through the life of a flamboyant central valley hipster gone the way of the boa.

I wrote Enrique an email after reading an excerpt on his blog:

Dear Ricky,

I can't wait to read more of your hilarious book! I just read the first part and could not stop laughing. Not just that; I now have an entirely new outlook on Delano, California in the 1980s. The Facts of Life/Barbie references had me in stitches! Let me know if you need any help in promoting your work on my website. Then, come and be on the Buck City Podcast!

Sincerely,

N.L.

Now, read on in Enrique's blog where he excerpts from his new book, Queen Me! And leave him a comment. I know I will... that stuff is funny as heck.

Today! N.L. Belardes photos and 7 other artists work on display at The Empty Space! - By N.L. Belardes

There’s an art show in a few hours at the Empty Space Art Gallery (Saturday 5-7PM). Are you going to be there? All these artists I know in the scene and all the free time I put in to help the scene grow. Oh wait, is this a cheesy plug from me at guilt to get artists to come see my photos? No, not yet, I’ll save that for when I have a rocking party for Lords: Part One that everyone will be invited to.

In the meantime, check out this exciting mix and match Exquisite Corpse style artwork. (Directions and length of show running through August).

Here's three of the collaborations, but there's a lot more:



Go to the art opening. Julia Heatherwick is curating. I’m just going to be there getting soppy on vino.

Buy some artwork if you want to become a collector. Now’s a good time.

I hope you like the photos…

-n.l.

A recent night of American Eyes, the Insurgence and more... by N.L. Belardes

I want to mention that recently I went and hung out at the Boiler Room. I love this little concrete pillbox of a venue. I feel like I’m sneaking away to some secret rock and roll underground water heater complex where bands play to rebellious crowds. You dip down a few stairs, get secret refreshments and red licorice and then among the beams and in the dark room you jam to super loud tunes.

I saw the Insurgence get rowdy. Their lead singer, Jibo, jumped into the crowd because their band was just too rowdy on the stage to fit his antics. He got in faces, he screamed and wailed in punk rock style and then wondered out loud what was up with the mild Bakersfield crowd. “Back in my day we knew how to rock out,” he said enticing the crowd. Of course I wasn’t going to take the lead and smash heads. I’m just a tame old punk rocker wanting to observe the youth interact with such a hardcore band… Their song “Down Below” fit such a basement type of venue as these guys ripped through song after song with precision punk riffs and singing. “What ya gonna do, what ya gonna say!” Jibo screamed… Of course the song I really liked was their anti-tribute to bratty kid icon Ani DiFranco and lost love to girls who wallow in DiFranco’s bitterness, aptly titled, “Ani DiFranco is Annoying”… The only thing I regret was not buying a brass knuckles T-Shirt.

I missed seeing Bakersfield band, Ruin the Portrait’s set. These guys were as loud as local rockers Pangolese. Holy crap! I enjoyed their music but I stood outside with the punk director from the War Days and we talked about music and life and pondered where it all goes like some dark Kerouac moment discovered in the church lot night. And all the while listened to the music... Go listen to their song, “Deal of the Century”. These guys have a great rock pop sound with well-synched harmonies and fine story-telling lyrics filled with just the right amount of bitterness and anger to make for a great rock and roll sound… This was their first gig and they have another one coming up. Check their web page for the date.


From their performance in mid-June at the Gate.
Lead man David Henry sported longer hair...

American Eyes put on a great performance here in the lost neighborhoods of the downtown periphery. I saw them perform with Vendetta Red at the Gate (the attached venue next door)(view the write-up). But now they were in for a more intimate show in the Boiler Room. Of course I love their song, “Radio”. It’s catchy, it’s intense, and that chorus, “Right on, right on, right on the radio…!” is as catchy of a chorus as you will ever hear when driving around with pals heading toward your favorite destination. It’s probably one of the catchiest tunes ever played in the land of Buck Owens and his big crystal horse.

Lead man David Henry sported a new hairstyle, much shorter, much more him and hip and the gals in the house all loved him as he jumped around and sang. Now, American Eyes have a slight Eighties style that rocks and gets the crowd jumping. David even got one pack of dancing girls to run around the Boiler Room. He congratulated them with free water, tossing them a bottle…

At the end of the night Liars and Thieves laid down some jams… Sal was in great form even though his guitar cable had the best of him for a short while, making his Rickenbocker cut out as if it didn’t want to sing and wail guitar chords at all… In the end Sal roped that old Rickenbocker and made it sing the way he wanted it to… but that’s just Sal…

Breaking news! (literally) Arrival of fawn out to pasture - By N.L. Belardes

Hot off the press:

A note from good buddy Dax:

the fawn is dead...

hey nick, just dropping a line to let you know what's up with us.
well the arrival of fawn are no more.ty decided to leave so greg,
john, and i are getting together with
bill from swag 667 and are doing a whole new thing.
we are still looking for a singer but the new name is
the decline. well, gotta go but i'll fill you in on more as it
happens. ttyl.
dax-

Buck City Podcast Episode Nine: The cast of Laugh-In! - By N.L. Belardes

In the sixth interview on the Buck City Podcast, six members from the cast of Laugh-In make an appearance in the N.L. Belardes studio. They talk inspirations, preparation, and all about upcoming shows like After the Fall, and Closer in LA. Hear what it's like to be an actor in a great nostalgic comedy like Laugh-In... And then go watch the comedy, the great costumes, and the deadpan jokes.


You have to listen to Episode Nine, and if you're an artist, in a band, or in theatre, you're going to want to do a podcast. Why? Because a podcast can be downloaded and listened to over and over again. It's not just a one-time radio thing... Go to my homepage and click on one of the chicklets, subscribe, or just wimp out and download the MP3 of Episode Eight, 'The Cast of Laugh-In'... If you do click on a chicklet, try podnova. But don't discount iTunes. The Buck City Podcast is now on iTunes, Podfeed, Podnova, Podcast, PodcastHostDirectory, PodTower, Podcast Directory, Podcast Pickle, Podcasting News, podcaster world, Odeo.com and Podfeeder... and yes, I did say iTunes! That's the biggie. Go ahead and look, you'll see the Buck City Podcast right there in the music directory...

And no, you don't have to have a MAC to download iTunes. Just go to apple.com and download right now! It's great! A great search engine for podcasts, a great look and feel, and you can listen with ease, with auto updates!

If that isn't enough, my arts page just went through a major overhaul just to keep up with the new Buck City Podcast and the popularity it's already received. Take a look at the new simplistic look and feel...

You can still see the play this weekend at the Spotlight Theatre.

Stay tuned for more podcast!

The ghost behind the Bakersfield music scene - By N.L. Belardes

I had walked into Azul’s, a downtown Bakersfield bar once known for raging six-pack tacos when it was Paco’s Tacos. I was just passing through really to show a friend how blue the place had really gotten with lights and its name. “…and this is Danielle Belton’s hangout. She’s a local journalist-celebrity who loves to write about the goings on in local entertainment. Her blog is kind of freaky though; but then so is mine…” Ok, I didn’t really say that, but as I turned to leave, two gentlemen almost simultaneously said, “Hey, N.L.”

I had no idea who they were at first. They introduced themselves as Jon Coley and Zill DeVille. I’d heard of Zill. He’s the promoter who probably stood up and cheered, boogied and high-fived anyone in sight when hearing Nate Berg had been shoved out of town on his outdated DeNiro horse. Zill had written, “I win” on an online bulletin when the big Pizza-a-go-go end-of-Nate post went down; and the next day I saw a huge poster promoting shows near the corner of Eye and 19th Street, likely Zill’s doing in celebration of not getting his posters ripped down in the poster war anymore.

I had Zill’s link up on my site and had been writing to a friend of his who thought she had to straighten me out about some recent goings-on regarding some kid passing out another promoter’s flyers in front of Jerry’s Pizza. I had inquired about the incident in an email and used the word, “Crony”, which the mysterious letter writer took in a negative context. I informed her that crony wasn’t a negative word at all but meant longtime companion and friend, and that I had not posted any of the supposed flyer incident… Jon and Zill both knew all about it. This was a strange coincidence to say the least. They offered to buy me a drink. Why not? I only drink the sissy stuff and they were soon to find out. “One raspberry cider please,” I grumbled. The bartender poured it. I took a drink. It was smooth raspberry, a very light pear beer… I felt like a complete wimp; but I wasn’t there to look tough...

Jon began to tell me his story. He has self-confidence and a swagger in his voice as he began to tell me just how much he has been a ghost behind the music scene. He indicated that he agreed with my articles against the baseball bat of poor consciousness and downtown balkanization of the Bakersfield music scene. Then he told me that he was the funder behind the old pizza-a-go-go promoter, that he was the mover and shaker behind Nate Berg, Zill DeVille and possibly some others. He’d been a part of much bigger music scenes but had come back to Bakersfield. He was now all about unity in Buck City. And to top it off, Nate Berg is his friend. But you have to love your friends and help pick them up, even when they’ve gone the way of the black cowboy hat. “I’m the guy who bought his bus ticket out of town,” he said. “But now he’s doing the same thing again. He’s in jail in New Orleans.”

Not too hard to believe. Jon spoke about unity in the scene and how Jerry’s Pizza has to start somewhere. I told him I wouldn’t go there, that it’s just too much of a dirty place. But then he straightened me out further about this underground cavern of the Bakersfield rock and roll farm by defending it as a place for unity.

Musicians defend its sanctity because they think they have no other downtown Mecca to uplift or to invest in. And so I think promoters uplift its sanctity as a bastion of rock, never to be torn down or pissed on, though maybe it is vomited in from time to time. That’s beside the point. Jon talked about giving Jerry’s chance, that he wasn’t out to get rich. He wants to make the Bakersfield music scene work right.

Jon told me that unity has to start somewhere. He’s right. And in the meantime I just have to play the eternal skeptic. It’s the Descartian approach I have in me as a novelist/historian. Be a skeptic, cast doubt, and hope that Jerry’s Pizza will clean up the downstairs. There’s talk. We’ll see what happens. “It will pick up during school,” Jon said. “We’re going to do some good things with Jerry’s.”

We then talked about Kerouac, newspapers and writing. We both share a vision of Kerouac as a strange mentor of sorts in our lives. We shared some stories about that and parted ways on friendly terms.

I have to add that unity will be difficult as there is a bit of a promoter war going on. I got a hint of it in our discussion at Azul’s regarding the flyer incident. Then there was more on the Internet recently in a bulletin released by Zill DeVille who clearly doesn’t like Montgomery World Plaza, which I think is a really nice venue compared to Jerry’s Pizza. They both have their advantages in the music scene. I was on the bulletins last night when I read the Zill post:

Someone find out why they(The Warriors) are playing mwp (Montgomery World Plaza)

I’m bummed man ever since I started doing shows I wanted to book The Warriors and now they play for some dumb asses at some shitty food court.

I’d get those guys in the gate or something at least. If they dont want to play Jerry’s.

Unity is going to take the promoters all getting along. Let’s hope they all find a way to make amends…

In the meantime. I’m going to pick the brain of that ghost, Jon Coley, and find out if he’s seen Kerouac pass through town, a ghost on the back of a flatbed truck, or on a train headed through cotton country…

Peter William of Peter Will has passed away - By N.L. Belardes

Big news in the local music scene when I heard Peter Williams past away last week. Peter Williams was in a band in the early 80s called Mojo and then later became Peter Will. He sang and played guitar and frequented many of the now defunct Bakersfield hangouts. Service this Saturday at 10:30 at Greenlawn.

Exquisite Corpse Art Show Podcast #7. Listen Now! - By N.L. Belardes

In the fifth interview on the Buck City Podcast, artist Julia Heatherwick enters the N.L. Belardes underground studio to talk about the upcoming 'Exquisite Corpse Art Show' at the Empty Space Theatre. You have to listen because this is a hilarious show where we do skits and I can't stop laughing. You will even hear an excerpt of my interview with the War Days director who is working on a new horror movie... Julia Heatherwick just won best show at the Bakersfield Museum of Art but is now using her talents to curate a show of humanoid proportions… but then, she is on the board over at The Empty Space.

There are eight artists collaborating on the Exquisite Corpse. The list includes: Gita Lloyd, Julia Heatherwick, Ashley Ashley, N.L. Belardes, Damon Dorsey, Nancy Torii, and Elizabeth Hinkle. Get a little more info and artist links on Julia's new blog. Yes, I am involved with some rather attractive photo art... My model and I went all the way to Chinatown for the perfect fabric texture for our delightful photo shoot... You have to see...

This Saturday, August 6th from 5-7 PM is the opening. But don't just read about it, listen to the podcast...


You have to listen to Episode Eight, and if you're an artist, in a band, or in theatre, you're going to want to do a podcast. Why? Because a podcast can be downloaded and listened to over and over again. It's not just a one-time radio thing... Go to my homepage and click on one of the chicklets, subscribe, or just wimp out and download the MP3 of Episode Eight, 'The Exquisite Corpse'... If you do click on a chicklet, try podnova. But don't discount iTunes. The Buck City Podcast is now on iTunes, Podfeed, Podnova, Podcast, PodcastHostDirectory, PodTower, Podcast Directory, Podcast Pickle, Podcasting News, podcaster world, Odeo.com and Podfeeder... and yes, I did say iTunes! That's the biggie. Go ahead and look, you'll see the Buck City Podcast right there in the music directory...

And no, you don't have to have a MAC to download iTunes. Just go to apple.com and download right now! It's great! A great search engine for podcasts, a great look and feel, and you can listen with ease, with auto updates!

If that isn't enough, my arts page just went through a major overhaul just to keep up with the new Buck City Podcast and the popularity it's already received. Take a look at the new simplistic look and feel...

You can still see the play this weekend at the Bakersfield Community Theatre.

Stay tuned for a brand new podcast with folks from Lostocean, Exithead, and more...