Fri, Oct 19 - 9pm - $15adv/$17door


Dead Rider

 Dead Rider Trio Featuring Mr. Paul Williams features Mr. Paul Williams on words and performance on top of Dead Rider playing their wicked, rumbling inspirations.  Let's assume that if you're reading this, you got the Dead Rider part covered: three guys making a THICK-ASS sound, dipped in corrosive and absinthe and still steaming from the bath; pulsing funkily, flashing blue desperate images! Whipped up by the tour dates and promo cycle of Crew Licks, Dead Rider were feeling hot enough to jam, and just let the tape roll! This is where the intrepid Mr. Paul Williams came in. An occasional character in Todd Rittmann's life over the years, a ghostly presence since they first met back in Hamburg in the late 90A mad man bound to convince the people around him of something beautiful that exists only in his mind. Mr. Paul Williams thinks big, with no concern for the details, a living testament to the supernatural, transformational power of belief. This is his art.  Dead Rider Trio Featuring Mr. Paul Williams, while rife with intention, is an automatic/exquisite corpse four-car pile-up, improvised in three different spaces at three different times. Basically, everybody involved was hearing it for the first time when they did it. Put it this way, you'll only have ONE chance in your life to hear this for the first time - and chances are, you won't be playing an instrument when you do!  Matt, Todd and White Christmas - walking the crooked path of rock with a mutant gusto belonging to no one but Dead Rider (well, probably to the people listening to Dead Rider, also!). Williams' words that you think might be the point are probably not - Paul's as much a fan of misdirection and displaced accent as the Dead Rider Trio, and their meeting is therefore one of shared causation and correlation! It's a jammer, a butt-bouncer, a tad oblique and a little hallucinatory - but it's definitely all about things. And it'll rock ya.


 The broad outlines of the story are by now familiar. How a certain young man from Clarksboro, NJ, one Daniel Smith, having for a time turned his back on the culture and musical milieu in which he was raised up, which is to say having (temporarily, to go off to school) turned his back on impeccable folk and gospel bona fides in the person of his father, and having left behind the aggregation of his family, a large, singing musical brood, headed out into the world to see a few things. And yet in the course of doing so this Daniel Smith realized, with the kind of suddenness that we might associate with insight or revelation, that his family was a blessing, and that he needed to sing about this family. And not only did he need to sing about his family and the faith that sustained it, he needed, again, to sing and play with his family. The year of this revelation was 1994.  Daniel Smith, had drunk deep of the dark fringes of indie rock and outsider art, including and not limited to the likes of Sonic Youth, Captain Beefheart, Yoko Ono, Pere Ubu, Andy Warhol, Howard Finster, et al. And on the other hand he was not kidding about the purity and complexity and seriousness of his faith. He wrote (and writes) fearlessly about spiritual experience, in a way that ought to be the envy of all these gauzy and simulated gospel artists you hear out there. This Smith was loaded down with paradoxes. He was alpha and omega, he was light and dark, he was sacred and entertaining, he was folk/gospel and he was indie/prog/punk.  

Nick Alvarez Ghost & Bell Ensemble


Price: $15