fIREHOSE-Screaming Trees Side-Mousin’ ‘88 Tour

Sweet late ‘80s artifact. Anyone see this tour?

That Time Donna Dresch Played With the Screaming Trees …

Here's a fun find. The Screaming Trees in that brief window in 1988 when Donna Dresch played bass instead of Van Conner.

aMiniature Starter Kit

The Aching In Your Heart

Today is John Doe's 69th birthday and here he is duetting with Kathleen Edwards back when he was "only" 55 lol (2008). Love this song so much and the way their voices work together is magic. Kathleen more than holds her own. But, this is one of those performances where I think John Doe may not be the greatest rock/roots singer ever, but there's a specific way he breaks your heart that can't be duplicated. When he hits the high note at "walk away" or "hangover morning?" That's the stuff.

RIP Mark Lanegan

Artist: Rhys Cooper

I always told myself I wouldn't be shocked by Mark Lanegan's death and yet, here I am. Frankly, he outlived his early trajectory, so I'm grateful he was as prolific as he was. And that's the thing about Lanegan. He fought drugs, alcohol, his own band, and himself and still managed to have a career with a lot of highs and not many lows. Even the experiments that don't work for me -- some of the electronic stuff in the early 2000s, e.g. -- made organic sense at the time. He'd earned the right to try on a few different hats and some of em didn't fit. It happens. He never went through a stupid emo phase or metal phase or ska phase, although now I'm thinking of Nearly Ska'd You and Uncle Skanesthesia and maybe that was a lost opportunity. But man, that fucking voice. Dude sounded 100 years old and was smart enough to lean into it,and build a career on it. I wish he lived long enough to make up with the Trees, but such is life. He's gonna be remembered as this grunge golem -- which is partially true -- but you gotta have balls, soul, and the feel to take on Bobby Bland and come out the other side unscathed. Godspeed ML.

Podcast Episode 20 - Asian Faces, White Spaces (aMiniature)

The 1976 Gathering of Ueharas for my Grandpa Jiji's 88th birthday. In Japanese culture, the 88th birthday (Beiju) is a long life celebration. In the back of the room you can see what looks like a floral arrangement. That’s actually long strings of red origami cranes. The crane is is one of the central mystical creatures in Japanese lore and it is said that if you make a thousand of them you will be granted a wish.

Episode 20 – Asian Faces, White Spaces (aMiniature)

aMiniature – He, The Bad Feeler

Welcome to Don't Call It Nothing, the podcast dedicated to the lost history of '90s roots, rap, and rock 'n' roll, and now officially based on the book of the same name. This is Lance, I apologize for getting the pod out late. I had to tend to some other gardens, plus today’s subject is very personal to me and I wanted to get it right. It’s more biographical than autobiographical, but part of today’s podcast is about my maternal grandparents. Heiko (HIGH-ko) Uehara (oo-ay-HAR-A) — which you WILL hear me say you-ay-HAR-a because I’m hapa and was raised to have a stupid white mouth [laughs] — was my grandfather and I knew him as Jiji. Good old dude, classic grandpa. Kameyo was his wife, my grandmother. I knew her as Baba. Best laugh ever, awesome lady.

However, the other part of today’s pod concerns the band you just heard. aMiniature, small a, capital M, iniature, a San Diego force of nature in the mid-‘90s. If you’re a fan of the Pixies, Superchunk, Drive Like Jehu, Hot Snakes, Archers Of Loaf, Spoon, Echo And The Bunnymen, or … And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead, you’re probably gonna wanna stick around. That track was “He, The Bad Feeler” from their third and final album, 1995’s Murk Time Cruiser. aMiniature was a post-punk band who took the punk part very seriously. These dudes rocked, but their song structures featured odd angles, slashing rhythms, big riffs, little dollops of melody, effective use of space, and sing/scream vocals that a few years later would get dumbed down into emo. What differentiated aMiniature from so many bands in the ‘90s rock ‘n’ roll underground — and not just in their native San Diego — was the fact that the band’s leader, John Lee, was Asian-American. Korean-American, specifically.

In his book, Sells Like Teen Spirit: Music, Youth Culture, and Social Crisis, Ryan Moore has a passage where Lee crystallizes the racial dynamic in San Diego, but he could’ve been talking about anywhere in America.

When John says, “I really wanted THAT when I was a kid,” he’s not saying he wanted to be white. He’s saying that he wanted that sense of belonging that came naturally to white kids living in a white world. He wanted the luxury and privilege of not having to think about his identity because having it constantly questioned is fucking exhausting. Of course, when you’re a kid, you don’t understand that your outsiderness can be weaponized and turned into an advantage. For example, Lee brought a swagger and violence to his playing that was, clearly to my mind, a deliberate effort to beat the white boys at their own game. Bands either couldn’t follow aMiniature OR — best case scenario — stepped up to the challenge, giving the audience two exceptional sets. For me, a fellow Asian face in a white space, John Lee and aMiniature were liberating. It was triumphant to see a surly, funny, unapologetic Asian dude refusing to play the model minority game. I’m forever indebted.

aMiniature, Kensington Club, San Diego, April 24, 2015. On bass is Dave Jass from Uncle Joe’s Big Ol’ Driver.

There are two kinds of people in the world: conquerors and those who survived the conquerors. It should be noted that all conquerors began life as survivors. At some point, though, they chose conqueror culture because, let’s face it, it’s easier. You get to make the decisions. You get to point and tell other people to do stuff. I’m from survival stock, ONE generation removed from martial law, barbed wire, and restrictive covenants, TWO generations removed from an Okinawa-to-Hawaii diaspora driven by Imperial Japanese fuckery. As someone who knows that native American tribes were assimilated in the 19th and 20th century with an eye towards ethnic erasure, Japan’s policies toward Okinawa are predictably familiar. The Japanese wanted obedient subjects, so assimilation wasn’t suggested or optional. It was strictly enforced, which meant gaslighting, shame, and violence. You were not Okinawan, you were Japanese.

So, my grandparents dipped out to Hawaii, separately, but for the same fundamental reason. That’s where the jobs were and not jobs in tourism or industry. Jiji worked on pineapple and sugar cane plantations, which gave him hands like fucking catcher’s mitts. And plantation isn’t a euphemism. “Agricultural work” is the euphemism. Plantation means plantation.

Y. Scott Matsumoto, “Okinawa Migrants to Hawaii,” part of the Okinawan Genealogical Resources online database

Let’s focus on a few words and phrases.

“Worked like machines.” “No time to rest.” “Field boss on a horse.” “Rope.” “Whipping.” “Striking.” “Harshness.” “Brutal supervision.” “Watched constantly.” “Overseer.” “Overseer.”

I think KRS-One had a little something to say about this.

KRS-One - “Sound Of Da Police”

Take the word '“overseer” like a sample
Repeat it very quickly in a crew for example
Overseer, overseer, overseer, overseer
Officer, officer, officer, officer
Yeah, officer from overseer
You need a little clarity?
Check the similarity!

The overseer rode around the plantation
The officer is off patrolling all the nation
The overseer could stop you what you're doing
The officer will pull you over just when he's pursuing

The overseer had the right to get ill
And if you fought back, the overseer had the right to kill
The officer has the right to arrest
And if you fight back they put a hole in your chest

(Woop!) They both ride horses
After 400 years, I've got no choices
—KRS-One

A different photo from that same 1976 party. Look at my grandparents' hands. Those gnarled mitts had seen about 150 years of collective manual labor at the time of the party. I stand on the shoulders of giants. Survivors.

Long before Japanese colonization, Okinawans tangled with the Chinese, defeating Kublai Khan and the Mongols in 1276. This independence couldn’t last, of course, because China is China and Okinawa is a small series of islands between the East China Sea and the Philippine Sea. Of course, because of that location the islands were a linchpin in the maritime trade networks of medieval East Asia and Southeast Asia, which is why the Ryukyuan Kingdom — so named because of the Ryukyuan Islands, of which the Okinawan Islands are ground zero — survived in the shadow of much stronger geopolitical operatives for nearly half a millennium: 1429-1879.

Okinawa was a collision culture when Columbus was still getting wedgies in Christian death cult summer camp. Look at any map and you’ll see the islands smack dab between Japan and Korea to the north, China to the west, the Philippines to the south, Taiwan slightly southwest, and Vietnam and the rest of southeast Asia a bit further southwest. We interacted with all of them, stole ideas, adapted, and became the sum of several different parts because survival required it.

This is most obvious in Okinawa’s cuisine, which took pork and tofu from China, dashi fish stock from Japan, tropical fruits like the goya or bitter melon from southeast Asia, and even Spam from America. All of these ingredients are part of — and I’m gonna say this like I have a clumsy, white American mouth [laughs] — goya champuru. Champ like champeen, U-R-U. I’ve also seen it spelled chanpuru, with an N instead of an M. It’s Okinawa’s signature stir-fry dish and sometimes you’ll see the word “champuru” used synonymously with the term “stir-fry.” “Champuru” actually means “mixed” and comes from the Indonesian word, “campur,” which also means “mixed.” In other words, champuru is a multiracial, multiethnic, mixed race victory lap. It’s a reminder that Okinawans, this mixed-up collision of Asian cultures, has survived a million typhoons, numerous Chinese dynasties, the mass psychosis of the Imperial Japanese, rapey American soldiers, and even modern Japan, who sees the islands as little more than a geostrategic Indian reservation.

There’s a popular theory that karate emerged from Okinawa as a result of Japanese weapons bans in the 16th and 17th centuries. You can see the appeal of the story. The crafty underdog invents a fighting system where the human body itself is the weapon and therefore unbannable. This theory is almost certainly untrue. But, Okinawans did in fact invent karate and it wasn’t just about open hand punches and kicks. That’s how you turn into the Dane Cook of martial arts: karate. Historically, karate incorporated grappling, throws, joint locks, restraints, choking, and vital point strikes called kyusho. The emphasis on grappling came from tegumi (TAY-goo-me), Okinawa’s OG bloodsport where the winner was decided by submission through joint locks, strangles, or pinning. It’s funny, because if I asked a modern American fight fan what he’d call a popular combat sport where the object is striking, grappling, throws, joint locks, restraints, choking, and vital point strikes to win by submission, he’d say, “MMA.” And then I’d say, “I get that the second M and the A stand for Martial Arts. What does the first M stand for, because it’s doing the heavy lifting for the sport’s popularity?”And he’d say …

“Mixed.”

aMiniature - “Showdowned”

“Took a chance, felt like a fighter
Took a hit, from someone brighter
Took a fall, in front of others
That’s not all, there will be … others!”

That’s aMiniature with “Showdowned” from their second album, 1994’s depthfiveratesix. Everything aMiniature starts with John Lee, the band’s singer, songwriter, and rhythm/lead guitarist. The songs are written around doubled guitar parts with Lee set off in one channel and a second guitarist — Kevin Wells on depthfive, Mark Monteith on Murk Time — set off in the other. Guitars are often used like horns, mirroring each other, but not exactly. If Lee plays a clipped riff, Wells or Monteith will play a slightly different riff. If Lee stretches out for a solo, the Wells or Monteith solo will have a similar feel. Same parts, but not the same notes, and because they’re set in opposite channels, it presents a curious asymmetry. And then for all the guitar fire, without Colin Watson on bass and badasses like Christian Hoffman and Mark Trombino on drums, aMiniature just isn’t the same band. If you want Television-style guitar runoff, then tight, nimble chemistry in the rhythm section is essential.

I said earlier that outsiderness can be weaponized and turned into an advantage. In the ‘80s and ‘90s, a lot of boys and girls who felt like outsiders started bands. And bands tend to attract other bands and if you’re lucky, a cohort of like-minded musicians can coalesce into a scene. Back in 2019, John Lee and Mitch Wilson of No Knife were interviewed for the ‘90s rock podcast, Dig Me Out, and they had this exchange.

17:30 - Mitch Wilson: “The Casbah really kicked things off. What was the capacity, like 80?”

17:42 - John Lee: “Very, very small. That first version of the Casbah really drew all kinds of different bands. Punk rock bands, pop, whatever. And it really kinda formed the San Diego scene.”

18:00 - Wilson: “I was too young, so I'd sit on this little green electrical box with all the other kids drinking beers and you'd see all these bands walk by — Jesus Lizard, Nirvana, Smashing Pumpkins, Urge Overkill — and then local bands started playing there all the time, too, and it just created this scene.”

18:24 - Lee: “You know what I think is important about the Casbah? Any scene can exist for eternity without getting any better, unless there's a real sense of competition and oneupsmanship. When you see national bands playing a 70-person club and a local band opening, I think it really makes everybody try harder. I think it made my band better.”
—Dig Me Out, San Diego In The 90s, December 3, 2019

aMiniature at the Casbah, January 1994

Damn right it did. Iron sharpens iron. At Alabama, Nick Saban practices first team offense against first team defense knowing that both sides of the ball are probably the best team each will face all season. You think you’re good, well, a first round draft choice is lining up against you. And if you fail, a first round draft choice is behind you on the depth chart. That competitive temperament doesn’t mean Bama can’t get got, but always against teams who have their own future NFL players. Music scenes at their best are no different. aMiniature was aMiniature because they knew they had to keep up with Uncle Joe’s Big Ol’ Driver and Rocket From The Crypt. I have no doubt that worked in the other direction. And because of that internal competition between the bands in San Diego, every once in awhile, if a headliner wasn’t dialed in, one of these San Diego bands would take down Bama.

Which brings me to the other major tentpole in mid-’90s San Diego: Cargo Records. In the summer of ‘93, Cargo recorded a bunch of different bands at the Casbah for a compilation called Musica Del Diablo: Live From The Casbah. Like most comps, I love some performances, like others, and am indifferent to the rest. But, as a snapshot of the the city’s rock ‘n’ roll underground — at what might’ve been its peak — it’s a solid document. It would’ve been nice to have Rocket or Jehu, maybe the Rugburns, but you get Drip Tank, Inch, Contra Guerra, Lucy's Fur Coat, Trumans Water, Deadbolt, so many San Diego staples. My favorite tracks are Fluf (“Little Baby”), Heavy Vegetable (“Dutch”), John Doe and Smokey Hormel (the hidden track “Liar’s Market”), and a pair of epic, dual guitar jams: Uncle Joe’s Big Ol’ Driver (Dave Jass’ “Superman”) right into aMiniature’s “Physical Climber.”

Musica Del Diablo: Live From The Casbah
Recorded June/July 1993

I got power, poison, pain, and joy inside my DNA
I got hustle, though, ambition, flow inside my DNA
—Kendrick Lamar

Koreans have an exquisite concept called han. It’s described as a combination of deep sorrow, resentment, grief, regret, and anger felt by all Koreans. I like the definition proposed by Hawaii-born, Korean-American artist, Lauren Hana Chai. She says, “Han is this great sense of unresolved injustice, conflict, and oppression” and that it emerged “because of Korea’s history of constantly being taken over and colonized by invading foreign countries.“ Han sounds like PTSD and it’s perfectly understandable given that the country is divided into northern and southern halves, not because of some long-simmering cultural division, but because the 38th Parallel was convenient for the Soviet Union and US. And all of that Cold War meddling followed Imperial Japan’s annexation of Korea, which began with forced assimilation — just like Okinawa — but then graduated into forced labor, comfort girls, rape, human experimentation, starvation, torture, and murder. And prior to that was centuries of being leaned on by China. But, that stretch from the mid-’30s through the mid-’50s saw the country both literally and metaphorically destroyed. All of that historical trauma is buried inside Koreans waiting to be dealt with.

John Glionna, LA Times, “A complex feeling tugs at Koreans,” January 5, 2011

My theory is that something akin to han is shared by all Asians. The 20th century was so genocidal for so many Asians, how could there not be psychic scars? Korea, Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Indonesia, Tarawa, Okinawa, Iwo Jima, Saipan, Buna–Gona, Nanking, Hiroshima, Nagasaki. These places saw humanity at its most depraved and despicable, the question isn’t IF you have PTSD. The question is how are you dealing with it? Recovering economically from rubble is impressive. Japan and South Korea are to be credited. But, it’s not nearly as difficult as recovering psychologically, emotionally, and spiritually from trauma on that scale. If you’re Japanese, how do deal with the fact that your ancestors underwent mass psychosis, which curiously, makes you and them victims as well? And God bless the Chinese, who didn’t need to worry about foreign invaders because their enemy was their own government. Tens of millions dead from starvation, 45 million between 1958-62 alone. That’s 7 1/2 holocausts in half the time.

The 20th century was a killing field for Asians and all of this death, discrimination, and hardship has to be reckoned with. It is, to slightly paraphrase the ponytailed Mr. Kim, “embedded in our DNA.” This pan-Asian han should be seen, not just as grief or suffering, though it is that, but as a responsibility to our ancestors, most of whom had no political voice, and many of whom were treated like cattle — and slaughtered as such — by psychotic men in power. We don’t need to become financially successful. We don’t need to acquire stuff. We need to deal with “this great sense of unresolved injustice, conflict, and oppression.” We need to process the pain, not ignore it or act like it’s not there.

aMiniature - "Hiker Atlas" - Live Wire 20th Anniversary show in San Diego, October 20, 2012. The podcast contains the depthfiveratesix version.

The great aMiniature with their epic, “Hiker Atlas,” the final track on depthfiveratesix, which is NOT on Spotify. Neither is their follow-up album, Murk Time Cruiser. There’s some stuff on YouTube and to that end I created an aMiniature YouTube playlist named after the band. I’ll link to it in the transcription, but it should be easy to find. Thanks again to family members for being patient with my tardiness and allowing me a space where I can talk about my family history and dark moments in Asian history. Some of this stuff is new to me, too, so we’re learning together.

Just a reminder, if you’d like my book about ‘90s roots, rap, and rock ‘n’ roll, please go to dontcallitnothing.squarespace.com/book and a PDF download will be available there for free!!! There’s also a Book button in the nav bar. If you wanna send me $10, $20, or $100 in a tip jar kinda way, hit me up at PayPal and Venmo at dontcallitnothing@gmail.com. Thank you in advance. You can also sign up for the podcast at the $5 and $20/month levels. You get bonus episodes and at the $20/month level there’s a bit of collaboration, you can make a request, etc, etc. Love you guys. See ya later.

aMiniature – Peddler’s Talk

RIP Dallas Good

Me & Dallas Good, Plaza del Sol Performance Hall, Cal State Northridge,November 20, 2010
Photo: Fred Rockwood

Well shit. News has just trickled in that Dallas Good of The Sadies has passed away last night at the age of 48 (!!!). It sounds like there may have been an underlying heart condition, but it’s too early to say.

Dallas was one of my favorite guitarists from one of my favorite bands of this century. Well, they started in the ‘90s and started hitting their stride late in the decade, but it was in the early 2000s that their songwriting caught up to their elite performance aesthetic. Like The Jayhawks, The Sadies took essential ingredients from the Byrds and made em better. More fun certainly. Dallas was the Clarence White of the operation and considering Clarence was from a family of musicians and also died too young, the comparison is apt on a few different levels. Damn. I just realized that as I typed it.

The Sadies were surf punks, spaghetti westerneers, psychedelic explorers, Dallas had that baritone Lee Hazlewood thing goin on, obviously they were alt.country, they were also regular country, and someday people will realize that In Concert Volume One is like The Last Waltz, only better. Godspeed to the Notorious Good Brother.

Loved and Hugged by Steel

L-R: John Lee, Colin Watson, Kevin Wells & Christian Hoffman

Led by singer/guitarist/songwriter, John Lee, aMiniature was a San Diego force of nature, part of the same Casbah scene that birthed Rocket From The Crypt, Drive Like Jehu, Fluf, Uncle Joe’s Big Ol’ Driver, etc. If you’re a fan of the Pixies, Superchunk, Archers Of Loaf, Spoon, Echo And The Bunnymen, or …And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead, you’ll probably enjoy my upcoming podcast.

Puke Grub

The inimitable Bad Livers at Old Settlers (TX), 1994. L-R: Mark Rubin, Ralph White & Danny Barnes.
Photo: Heather Northam

This pic was taken not too long after the Livers recorded "Puke Grub" for Horses In The Mines, the proxy for “I Just Wanna See His Face” on my Alt.Exile. Danny Barnes plucks banjo as Mark Rubin blows tuba and both instruments are front and center. But, Barnes' CB radio vocal is panned hard left and it sounds like a second horn -- maybe a second tuba track? -- is panned center-right. Meanwhile, Ralph White saws on fiddle way in the back of the arrangement, and all these instruments taken together give the song an eerie sense of depth. Like "Face," “Puke Grub” doesn’t end so much as dissolve, fading out with a couple of quirky audio clips.

Drunk My Drinks and Cashed My Bets

You Am I L-R: Russell Hopkinson, Tim Rogers & Andy Kent

You can’t have a playlist inspired by Exile On Main St and not invite You Am I. The band could fill half of Exile's slots, especially circa ’98, when they cut “Junk” for #4 Record. This is swaggering fuck rock with bigtime guitar riffs and a punchy horn section. Love the whole sequence from 1:52 to the outro, which starts with a brief Andy Kent bass riff, introduces Stooges-esque handclaps and horn stabs, and then at 2:02 Davey Boy (aka Davey Lane) grinds out a sweet lead under the “junk junk junk” chanting.