#Tucson bands

[mudwerks]

(via Historic El Casino Ballroom celebrates 75 years in Tucson)

Hector La Desma sings along with Duke Ellington, right, at the piano and smaller, 15-piece Ellington band during a one-night stand at El Casino Ballroom at 443 E. 26th St., in Tucson on Sept. 17, 1954. Tucson Citizen file

[imthere4yuu]

Really feeling this shirt printed by a local artist ❤️

[mads-schubert]

Whoah I followed you a while back but i had no idea you did the merch for pinkshift!! I wear my skeleton longsleeve i got at a show all the time those designs are so sick

honestly this is so fun because usually pinkshift fans find me specifically through them. so it's nice to see you stumbled across my work first!

and yeah dude I love that funky little skeleton, happy to hear you dig it too. and thanks for taking the time to send me this ask!

[jljblog]

I was horrible at marketing. Looking back, a "band" starting out would get a collection of songs, continue to refine them while playing shows / gaining notoriety. I liked composing and recording more than playing shows. My favorite thing in the world was to be alone, making music.

I am not saying we should've been signed, but it was never a priority. It would come up but then the strategy would always be backwards.

-Jeff explaining why JLJ was never signed to a record label

[my-life-on-parade]

Mark and I spent this Thanksgiving with our friends Kevin and Nelene and Nelene’s family (who are visiting from out of town). They fixed a traditional, but all vegan Filipino feast served Hawaiian style on banana leaves and and eaten with our fingers. I can’t begin to describe all the incredible flavors, and the company was wonderful. 2022.

[sceletoon-de-arizona]

[kenneturner]

Dorantes Longtail Butterfly

Lilac-banded Longtail or Dorantes Longtail (Urbanus dorantes) — Image by kenne (October 2, 2022) This is the first time I’ve seen, and photographed Lilac-banded Longtail or Dorantes Longtail (Urbanus dorantes), a butterfly of the Hesperiidae family. It is found from Argentina, north through Central America, Mexico, and the West Indies to southern Texas and peninsular Florida. Strays can be found…

[venerablemonk27]

I've done a lot of birding the past couple months and not a lot of posting, so I'm going back to our Tucson, AZ trip from April. I hadn't been to the Western US since picking up birding or wildlife photography, so I knew I was going to pick up a ton of lifers. One of our target species for the trip was also my fifth Owl species ever: the Burrowing Owl.

[ID: A Burrowing Owl stands on a mound of dirt. They are facing left and looking toward the camera. The sun is low in the sky off to the right, which illuminates the right side of the Owl's face and their back, while casting the rest in shadow. They have striking yellow eyes and a furrowed brow that gives them the appearance of a permanent scowl. Their oval-shaped head transitions naturally into a slender cylindrical body covered in mottled tan and white feathers. About half the bird's height is body and folded wings, with two naked grey legs planted on the ground. End ID]

This was the morning we had picked for me to do some solo birding, so I drove out to a spot west of Tucson where eBird indicated that Burrowing Owls were likely to appear. It was just after sunrise when I found the road cutting between farm fields where the Owls were reported. I drove slowly down the side of the road in my rented Dodge Charger, stopping occasionally to inspect a suspicious clump of dirt with my binoculars. I had not seen any sign of the Owls when a Land Rover pulled up behind me. A group of three folks in their 60s with binoculars piled out of car, clearly more birders here to do exactly what I was doing.

[ID: A Burrowing Owl stands on a mound of dirt, facing the camera. The sun is still low in the sky, but now the bird's face and chest are more brightly lit, showing the transition in feather colors from tan to mottled tan to white as they progress downward from collar to belly.]

They introduced themselves as coming from the UK, and had been visiting Arizona for several weeks in search of all the unique birds the state could offer. The driver was particularly puzzled about the location of the Owls, saying he was "absolutely foxed" that this place with no real habitat could host Burrowing Owls. I showed him the recent sightings on eBird and explained that it was possible the birds just hadn't emerged from their burrows yet.

After another 15 minutes of searching the fields, I offered to lead them to an alternate site nearby. We got in our cars and slowly drove back the way we had come. Just as we were approaching the end of the road, I spotted a small tan creature standing right on the edge of the irrigation ditch along the near side of the field. A Burrowing Owl! I swung the Charger around and flagged down my companions, who had also spotted the Owl.

[ID: A pair of Burrowing Owls stand on a mound of dirt. The one in the foreground looks decidedly sleepier and plumper than the one in the background (seen in previous images). Both Owls are similar in coloration, but the one in the foreground has an aluminum leg band for identifying them. End ID]

We got out to take a look and grab some photos from long distance, then slowly crept forward with my Charger as a rolling blind. There turned out to be four Owls spread out along the irrigation ditch, likely close to their burrows which were out of sight. They were surprisingly unbothered by the cars rolling up to them, probably because they see trucks and farm vehicles driving past all day every day. Once we were directly across the irrigation ditch from the closest pair, I climbed into the passenger seat to take some better photosm. Mostly the Owls just stood on their tiny hill and looked around. Though I did witness one of the pair above fly down to pounce on a grasshopper, then return to feed it to their partner.

[ID: A pair of Burrowing Owls stand on a mound of dirt. This photo was taken midday, with the sun directly overhead. At least one of these individuals is different from those above, as they have two leg bands instead of one. It's also apparent in the photo that the Owls are standing at the edge of a farm field from the row of green plants out of focus in the background. End ID]

I had such a great view of the Burrowing Owls that I had to bring my family back to see them on our last day in Tucson. Because we were heading out of town in the middle of the day, I was confident we'd find them right away and avoid testing the patience of my kid. It turns out I didn't have to worry. Not only were the Owls right where I left them, but the kid had fallen asleep on the drive, so we had to wake him up to see them! And seeing as I already had the camera within easy reach, I had to take a few more photos.

[ID: A Burrowing Owl stands on a mound of dirt. This one is looking alert in the midday sun, standing and scanning the area around the edge of the farm field. End ID]

On a trip full of exciting views, long hikes, and thousands of photos, it was nice to finish the trip quietly sitting in the car just a few yards away from such a compelling bird. And it always feels good to track down a lifer and share that experience with others!

[wub-fur-radio]

420,000,000 Reefer Fans Can’t Be Wrong Punk Gunk, Garage, Psych & Other Wild Shit — Volume 420

Our annual 4/20 holiday mix — 19 "New Rockophonic" HIGH Fidelity Recordings for your holiday (or any day) listening pleasure. Featuring musical joints from Th' Losin Streaks, Kid Congo & The Pink Monkey Birds, The Cavemen, Astral Magic, Sonnyskyes, Drunk Mums, Mean Jeans, Bass Drum of Death, and 11 more bands who can’t be wrong.

Apologies to The King (still America’s favorite pillhead/narc/rock icon). Legalize Marijuana Everywhere Now! End the War on Drugs!

▶︎🎶 Listen on Mixcloud

Running Time: 59 minutes, 53 seconds

Tracklist

I Mean You (2:50) — Th’ Losin Streaks | Sacramento, CA

This Generation (2:55) — Opinion | Occitanie, France

Flowers On My Grave (2:57) — The Cavemen | Auckland, New Zealand †

The Boy Had It All (3:22) — Kid Congo & The Pink Monkey Birds | Tucson, AZ

Echoes All Around (3:36) — Sun Dial | England, UK †

Let's Take a Ride (4:02) — Astral Magic | Finland †

Clean My Head (3:43) — The Brooms! | Portugal

I'm Flying Too (2:57) — Sonnyskyes | Long Beach, CA

L.S.D. (2:30) — Acid Tongue | Seattle, WA

Something You'll Never Find (3:18) — The Cripplers + Alicja Trout | Memphis, TN

He Lost His Mind (2:47) — The Revox | Switzerland †

Last Day on Earth (2:34) — The Satelliters | Germany

Saturday (1:48) — Drunk Mums | Melbourne, Australia

I Don't Give a Shit Anymore (2:24) — Mean Jeans | Portland, OR †

Mindwater (3:45) — Still Animals | St. Louis, MO

And Here We Are (4:34) — Misty Lanes | Sydney, Australia

Revelations (3:43) — Levitation Room | Los Angeles, CA

White Vine (3:12) — Bass Drum of Death | Mississippi †

This Might Be The End (2:57) — The Decibels | Sacramento, CA †

All tracks released in 2024, except those marked † released 2023.

[ourshadowstallerthanoursoul]

On this day... - June 28th

On this day Led Zeppelin performed:

+ 1969 : Bath Festival in Bath, UK

+ 1970 : Bath Festival in Shepton Mallet, UK

“By 8pm, it was estimated that a quarter of a million people – roughly the population of the city of Leeds – were champing at the bit awaiting Led Zeppelin. Half-an-hour to set up – then the members of THE definitive ‘heavy’ band strode on stage. […] They kicked off with a new riff from their next album called “Immigrant Song”. They actually took some time to warm up the crowd, but this may have been intentional as they built up to a fantastic climax with an act lasting over three hours.” (Melody Maker)

+ 1972 : Tucson Community Center in Tucson, Arizona, USA

[jljblog]

There were warnings This highway has many signs The truth should've been obvious Still, the truth seldom is I am much older now Awaken from the dream It is lying beside me dissected As good as dead

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 14B: Where Do We Go Now?

Soundtrack: “Sweet Child O’ Mine,” Guns N’ Roses, 1987 [click here to listen]

Now and then when I see her face She takes me away to that special place And if I stare too long, I'd probably break down and cry

- Guns N’ Roses, “Sweet Child O’ Mine” (1987)

Tucson || July 1988

It didn’t matter what Colum or the label or anyone else said – all recording studios looked the same on the inside.

Sure, there were always small differences. The really comfortable couches at Sound City in Los Angeles. Electric Lady in Manhattan still had the really cool paint scheme that Jimi Hendrix himself had designed. Muscle Shoals in Alabama oozed coolness.

But this studio, whose name he couldn’t and didn’t care to remember, nestled down a back street in Tuscon was…tired.

Almost as tired as Jamie.

The “quick three week tour” had stretched to eight weeks, with no end in sight. Theater shows had been upgraded to arenas. Playing to thousands and thousands of ecstatic fans. Pouring their hearts out night after night after night, and squeezing in radio promos and sound checks and business meetings during the day.

Fucking exhilarating.

Everybody wanted a piece of Print – their music, their story. Jamie still hadn’t granted too many interviews this tour, but the press ate up every word he said about sobriety and music and forgiveness. Insatiable for details about the woman he had met in rehab, and written all the new songs about, and refused to name publicly.

Print was making more money than they knew what to do with. The label had sprung for a private plane, and nobody in the band missed the rickety and smelly tour bus (except Claire, because it was still all so new to her, which Jamie added to the list of thousands of reasons why he loved her). Their hotel rooms were bigger. Catering in the dressing rooms was much nicer.

Fucking exhausting.

So many people wanted a piece of Jamie every day. Ian and Angus, to run through the new material that just kept pouring out of them. Colum, to talk ticket sales and adding second and third nights in each city. The suits from the label, who kept finding them in Dallas and Kansas City and Detroit, slapping Jamie’s back and pushing terrible ideas for duets with pop stars or contributing to a movie soundtrack or pleading to do the acoustic set in a special for MTV.

And on top of that, some dirtbag reporter from the National Enquirer had figured out who Claire was, somehow got a hold of her personnel file from the hospital, and tracked down her shitty ex-husband for an exclusive interview. Splashed her life all over the tabloids, complete with very grainy photographs of the she and Jamie together, holding hands, on a rare day off in Nashville when he took her to a few honky-tonks. The one saving grace was that thankfully, nobody at The Ridge had said a word about anything about her time there, or the time they shared together.

Claire took it all in stride. She always understood. Holding him in the bathtub of their suite in Denver as he shook from another panic attack. Smiling over a three AM hamburger at a diner in Topeka. Whimpering as he came off stage in Atlanta, sweaty and keyed up from singing about her, hoisting her in his arms for a long kiss against the lighting equipment at side stage, heart stuttering to see his eye makeup smudged against her cheeks.

The man he was on the last tour – unhappy, unfulfilled, so deep in an addition he didn’t care to acknowledge – would not recognize the man he’d become on this tour.

“In ’86, we played seventy eight dates. We had a number one record. I bought my house, and my motorcycle, and my car.” Quietly he sipped coffee in their suite in Seattle, watching the city wake up, running his thumb over Claire’s shoulder as she settled against him in front of the window.

“You had everything you had always dreamed of.”

He snorted. “I was a mess. All I could think about during every show was how to find a girl or a bottle or a baggie as quickly as possible. And the crew would always do that for me.”

The crew respected his – and Claire’s – request for no drugs or alcohol backstage this tour. What the techs and roadies and production crew did on their own time, in their own hotel rooms, with whoever they wanted to – Jamie didn’t care. But for everyone to help with, to respect, his sobriety was a gift. And he never stopped saying thank you.

“If only those reporters could see you now – Jamie Fraser swaggering off stage for an Evian.”

He smiled. “And to kiss this beautiful doctor who for some reason keeps following him around. Because he loves her, more than any man has ever loved any woman.”

He wanted to provide for her. To shelter and protect her. To never leave her side ever again.

She didn’t need him to do any of that, of course. They’d talked about it many times. But she wanted him to do that. And the fact that she chose him, kept choosing him…that was why they kept going. Kept each other sober. Kept holding each other up.

They’d agreed that this time on tour was for her to understand this part of him – and to help both of them decide how and where they would live once the tour was done.

Which is why the radio silence from Boston, four weeks after mailing the letter from Philadelphia asking, politely, just what the hell was going on…was so fucking crushing.

The stress of that – and the grind of touring – did make it just a bit more difficult every day.

Thankfully Colum had scheduled a week-long break at the end of the month. Angus was already planning a trip to Aruba with the two groupies, who truth be told had grown on the rest of the band. Ian was planning to spend the week with his wife, Jamie’s sister Jenny, and their kids.

And Jamie and Claire – well, they’d be getting married.

Only a few people knew, with good reason. Ian and Jenny, of course. Alec and Faith, in New York. Colum. Dougal MacKenzie and his wife Gillian, who had helped both Jamie and Claire so much at The Ridge. Uncle Lamb, who would officiate. And Claire’s friends Joe and Gail Abernathy, who had quite literally saved her life by getting her to The Ridge in the first place.

The service would be simple. Exactly what they wanted – what they needed.

And after that…well. They would truly be husband and wife.

But there was a lot to do – a lot to take care of – between now and then. Not the least of which was, wrapping up this recording session.

The time laying down acoustic tracks in Philadelphia last month was very well spent. They weren't so rusty. But the guys were eager to hear the songs in electric form. And since they were in Tucson, and Colum knew Bobby Higgins – who not only owned this studio, but who had also produced that really killer Ratt album in ’84…

“OK, Jamie.”

Jamie took a deep breath, and looked up through the glass at Bobby, hunched over the console in the control room.

“Ready for take two?”

Jamie looked left, to Angus – and right, to Ian.

“Yup.”

“OK – this is In My Veins, take two.”

Jamie grit his teeth.

Caught Claire’s eye in the control room.

She smiled.

He relaxed.

Angus counted in on his drumsticks, and then started the heavy beat like they’d discussed.

Four bars – and Jamie’s guitar and Ian’s bass joined in.

--

“That was really, really great, Jamie.”

Claire handed him a new bottle of water, cap already twisted off. He drank it in four deep gulps.

“I know you’re not shitting me. So thank you.”

Quickly she looked over her shoulder – Angus’ cheeks were being loudly kissed by the groupies, and Ian played around with his bass, and Colum and Bobby were deep in conversation in the control room.

“Where are you?”

She had pulled him away before, when the panic attacks were coming, and he knew she’d do it again right now if needed.

He wiped his mouth with the back of a sweaty hand. “About an eight out of ten.”

“Do you need a break?”

He met her eyes. “I need a meeting. Been thinking about my old friend Jack Daniels all day.”

“Did you see something?”

He sighed. “I’ve only played electric a handful of times since I got back from The Ridge.” He looked down at the gorgeous Stratocaster strapped across his chest, fist flexing. “I got this guitar because the black tone and white trim matched the label on the bottle. Stupid, I know. But it’s all I could think about today.”

“Not stupid. We’ll deal with it. You should call Alec. And I can find you a meeting.”

He leaned in, and kissed her forehead. “I love you. I’ll call him. And I need to sell this guitar.”

She nodded. “We’ll find a charity.”

He kissed her again. “I love you.”

She kissed him quickly, and returned to the control room.

Grateful that Jamie had turned away to talk to the guys, when Colum tapped her on the shoulder, and slid over an envelope postmarked Boston.

“Mail call. Do I want to know?”

She shook her head, folded the letter, and slid it into the back pocket of her jeans. “Is there a Yellow Pages I can borrow?”

[punkrockhistory]

Happy Birthday to Gregory Regis "Greg" Ginn, guitarist and main songwriter for hardcore punk rock band Black Flag, born on this day in 1954, Tucson

[punkunited]

Black Flag, American band whose extensive touring and prolific recording helped to popularize hard-core punk, the genre that arose in California in the early 1980s in response to the punk movement of the 1970s. The original members were guitarist Greg Ginn (b. June 8, 1954, Tucson, Arizona, U.S.), bassist Chuck Dukowski (b. February 1, 1954), lead singer Keith Morris (b. September 18, 1955, Los Angeles, California), and drummer Brian Migdol

[cartermagazine]

Today We Honor Chuck Stewart

Chuck Stewart, one of the most prolific and admired photographers in jazz — an intimate chronicler of many of its icons and milestones, including the historic recording session for John Coltrane’s “A Love Supreme” — over a distinguished career that spanned more than 70 years.

“Chuck was born in Henrietta, Texas and raised in Tucson, AZ where his family moved to seek more opportunities. On his 13th birthday, his mother gave him a 616 Box-Brownie camera to try his hand at photography. The next day, the famed mezzo-soprano Marian Anderson visited his school in Tucson. He took pictures of the event and sold them to students and teachers and earned $2.00. This was a great financial leap from a 25-cents a week allowance. His career was born.

Chuck worked the New York City music scene in the early fifties capturing notable jazz luminaries representing Latin jazz, big band, bebop, cool jazz, and more, as well as bands and vocalists representing rock n’ roll, rhythm and blues, pop, country, Broadway, film and television. Chucks archives contain 800,000 negatives with a large inventory being jazz musicians from the 50’s to late 90’s.

Chuck was the only photographer at the historic recording session of John Coltrane’s album “A Love Supreme.” Oddly, his photos weren’t used for the album cover. However rare and unseen photos from that session now reside in the jazz archives of the Smithsonian Institution for anyone to see. Majority of the images used in the John Coltrane’s “Chasing Trane” Documentary and James Brown HBO Documentary are Chucks.

When the Beatles first toured America, Chuck toured with them but asked to be reassigned after being pinched and poked too many times by fans. “There are no black Beatles. Why are you grabbing me?” I protested. ‘You’re with them and that’s good enough for us,’ fans retorted.” - via chuckstewartphotograhy.com

CARTER™️ Magazine