By Nicki Escudero
By Amy Silverman
By Brian Palmer
By Chris Parker
By Troy Farah
By Lauren Wise
By Lauren Wise
Local AC/DC cover band TNT is getting some (big-ball-size) love from the object of its worship. Last fall, members of AC/DC's road crew -- in town for the band's show at America West Arena -- managed to catch TNT's pre-concert set at Jackson's downtown. They were sufficiently impressed to invite the band backstage to pal around with Angus and the boys, and the meeting was such a success that AC/DC has given the green light for TNT to record one of its unreleased songs. This week the band heads into Tempe's Mayberry studios -- with ex-Gin Blossom Robin Wilson producing and engineering -- to lay down the track.
The song, "Down on the Borderline," was originally recorded during sessions for AC/DC's 1988 long player Blow Up Your Video, but has never been released in the U.S. TNT will be completing the song for inclusion on its debut disc, a proposed album featuring covers of other AC/DC rarities.
Speaking of tribute acts, this weekend yields the first performance from the long-anticipated Mystery Tribute Band. The premise behind the group is fairly self-explanatory: Each month the group will take on the look and sound of a different big-name act -- prospects are rumored to include Behind the Music cheeseballs Chicago, Styx and Journey -- but won't reveal who it is until showtime.
The project is being spearheaded by some of the same folks who brought you the Paul McCartney and Wings tribute extravaganza Bluebird. Fliers for the upcoming Mystery Tribute Band show have included photos of the Honeycombs and Canned Heat, but that appears to be a bit of a red herring. Sources have tipped that the group will have a more royal bearing. Insider info tells us the band being honored is a British outfit (Hint: They will rock you) from the '70s and '80s (Hint: They are the champions) known for its operatic productions and flamboyant front man (Hint: The singer had an overbite that could scare small children).
Whatever its identity, the Mystery Tribute Band will be taking the stage this Friday, August 10, at the Emerald Lounge along with Tucson's beloved fatback funksters The Pork Torta. Showtime is 9 p.m.
Number 54 With a Bullet: In a rare instance of reality reflecting pre-release hype, the folks in the Jimmy Eat World camp are jumping for joy after receiving sales figures for the band's new album.
According to first week SoundScan numbers, the Valley group's DreamWorks debut, Bleed American, sold more than 29,500 copies, good enough to place the band at No. 54 on the Billboard Top 200 album sales chart -- in austere company, right between the Shrek soundtrack and Jaheim's Ghetto Love.
The figures wildly exceeded the band's own somewhat cautious expectations, which had been between 12,000 and 15,000. A special, introductory price tag (as low as $6.99 at retailers like Target) helped the album fly out of stores during its initial week of release.
Still, the numbers are but a mere fraction of the nation's top seller, 'N SYNC's Celebrity, which shifted a staggering 1.8 million units over the first seven days.However, in Arizona, where Bleed American did its most brisk business, the record managed to claim second place, again bowing to the rock 'n' roll monsters of 'N SYNC.
Jimmy Eat World has just finished up a couple weeks' worth of dates on the East Coast leg of the Vans Warped Tour and is now heading to Los Angeles. There, the band will rehearse with utility players Rachel Haden and Brian McMahan in preparation for further stadium dates with Blink-182 as part of the Edgefest, before beginning their own headlining U.S. club tour in September.
Byrning Down the House: There, on one corner of Sixth Street and Congress Avenue, stood Ray Davies, hiding behind don't-fuck-with-me shades. Just across the street stood David Byrne, camouflaged from head to foot in khaki, his omnipresent red backpack draped across his shoulder. Davies looked larger than life, in a way -- like a Rock Legend, holding his head high. He walked slowly, perhaps so passers-by who recognized him could bask in his reflected glory. The Kinks' front man seemed ageless, immortal, even in the blindingly bright springtime sun; he really had them, at least those of us who stared and glared as he made his way through downtown Austin. Byrne, on the other hand, looked as though he was trying to be the invisible man. He moved through the crosswalk and down the sidewalk as quick as lightning; he and Davies passed each other, without exchanging so much as a nod -- maybe they didn't see each other, maybe they didn't want to be seen. With Byrne, it was likely the latter: Only a few hours earlier, he had spoken at the Austin Convention Center as part of the South by Southwest Music Conference and explained, softly and eloquently, that he became a musician because he could barely speak to others without a microphone in front of him and an instrument in his hand. Rock 'n' roll allowed him to stop being shy, a malady that one presumes has never afflicted the garrulous Ray Davies. Had he not become a musician, perhaps David Byrne would have been a full-time visual artist. Or a mime.