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Nebraskan * . p e . , • - Pa£e
Tuesday, November 13,1990 AltS & Cll tCft ^1111116111
Lincoln’s few ‘Fiend’-ish fans visually ravished
Butch Ireland/Daily Nebraskan
Nik Fiend emits a guttural utterance at Duffy’s Tavern on Sunday night.
By Michael Deeds
Senior Editor
Nik Fiend must have erased all
doubts about his artistic abilities
Sunday night at Duffy’ sTavcm. Only
a true art mogul could draw cheers by
jamming his finger up his nose, then
placing the mucous sculpture in his
mouth for a prolonged chewing.
MfiSSEI
Fiend, vocalist for England’s cult
monsters, Alien Sex Fiend, had plenty
of tricks up his sleazy sleeve — he
also drooled, and at one point, even
ate his cigarette.
But Alien Sex Fiend did more than
shock. The band opened with “Now
I’m Feeling Zombificd” and never
looked back. Fiend, Mrs. Fiend, Rat
Fink Jr. and Dr. Milton spewed out a
sonic mishmash of electronic drums,
synthesizers, beat-box action and guitar
rage. Alien Sex Fiend is largely an
industrial band—their stuff is dance
able — but the dissonance and oddity
make the sound more of a punk muta
tion.
The band adapted its stage show
nicely to the small venue, bringing
spider webs, skulls and various in
candescent paintings. Alien Sex Fiend
has played for thousands in other
countries, so playing for 130 or so
must be an interesting change of pace
- especially when any college town
w ith a decent music scene would draw
twice that.
The Alien Sex Fiend show was
extremely loud, and quite visually
oriented. Besides the impressive stage
set, the hand had a serious fog ma
chine and knockout strobe lights that
periodically followed assaulting drum
patterns.
Nik Fiend often found himself sil
houetted by strange, colorful streams
of light, and used the moments to
dance on the rainbow. Fiend hobbled
around like adcnicnted old man, hell,
a dead man, shouting into the micro
phone sporadically and bathing in
clouds of fog. The Cure’s Robert Smith
looks normal compared to this guy.
But musically, Alien Sex Fiend
w as not so shocking. Though the band
was an innovator at one point in its
career, the level of creativity seemed
stifled and a bit monotonous Sunday
night. The members arc getting on in
years, and there’s no doubt that an
industrial powerhouse like Ministry
would blow them off the stage with a
simple nod.
Stiil, for S10, the nearly two-hour
show was a steal. There’s no way you
w ill hear, or sec for that mailer, any
thing like that locally. The stage show
surpassed, by far, anything that has
been in Duffy’s.
Alien Sex Fiend is a definitive part
of the English machine that has twisted
pop culture. It’s a shame more people
didn’t show up.
Rock star collaboration No. 2
Wilburys’ selfless manner shines in ‘ Vol. 3’
•J
By John Payne
Senior Reporter
Traveling Wilburys
“Vol. 3”
Warner Bros.
When four mates get together for a
jam session, it isn’t necessarily news.
Unless of course, they happen to be
Bob Dylan, George Harrison, Jeff
Lynne and Tom Petty. Then it be
comes the focus of endless features
on “Entertainment Tonight” and
CNN’s “Showbiz Today.” After all,
rock star collaborations arc a great
marketing gimmick.
But “Vol. 3,” the second release
from the four men who call them
selves the Traveling Wilburys, finds
this band of musical royalty sounding
exactly like that — a band. The rea
son may be that once again the
Wilburys have each contributed in a
very selfless manner.
True, Petty and Dylan handle most
ol the lead vocals, with Dylan writing
the majority of the songs. But Lynne
and Harrison’s loose production ac
counts for just as much of the LP’s
overall charm. The nicest thing about
“Vol. 3’’ is the prominence of acous
tic guitars, a warm jangling accompa
niment to the various three and four
pari harmonies.
And ihcre seems lo be a new fire in
Dylan, whose voice is ai its down
and-out best on tracks like “Inside
Out” and “If You Belonged to Me.”
In between, the harmonica blowing is
vintage Dylan.
Some of the rich R&B tracks, like
“You Took My Breath Away,” would
have been perfect for Orbison’s silky
voice. In fact, “Seven Deadly Sins,”
with its do-wah backing vocals, could
be a wholesale homage to the 1950s.
There’s even a little sax thrown in for
mood. Love and loss were great themes
for Orbison, and his bandmates have
dedicated this release to “Lefty
Wilbury.”
“Vol. 3” should please fans of
Petty’s longtime group the Heartbreak
ers as well. “Cool Dry Place” smacks
of early Heartbreakers, while the
humorous “Poor House” deals with
every rock star’s nightmare — the
divorce settlement: . they’re gonna’
pul me in the poor house/and you’ll
take ail the rest.”
There arc several instances on “Vol.
3” where the Wilburys poke fun at
their own celebrity status. Judging by
the name changes (Lynne is “Clay
ton” Wilbury, Harrison is “Spike,”
Dylan goes by “Boo,” and Petty is
“—”) these guys arc pretty well sick
of it. So maybe their occasional trans
formation from rock stars to plain
old, simple Wilburys is their own
way of escaping it.
Whatever the reason, it works.
Here’s hoping they treat us to more.
All eight of them.
Dread Zeppelin hits stage with cheesy show
I-zz—zshk:-1
By John Rayne
Senior Reporter
Chees/y (-e) adj. I like cheese in
consistency, smell, etc. 2 iSlan^j
corny, ho key—often over-used in
the Daily Nebraskan
I.R.S. mock-rockers Dread
Zeppelin splashed down at a jam
packed Ranch Bowl Sunday night
in support of their debut release
“Un-Lcd-Ed.” Its Omaha perform
ance, like all its shows, was as
much a comedy routine as it was a
concert. But the capacity crowd on
hand wouldn’t have had it any other
way.
The stage props, which looked
to have been stolen from the set of
“Blue Hawaii,’’couldn’thavc been
gaudier. Fishing nets and plastic
sealtKxl adorned the amps, the
bongos and the microphone stands.
A huge, smiling sunset provided
the backdrop. In the corner of the
the tiny stage, drummer “Fresh
Cheese & Cheese” pounded the
skins in the middle of a mini box
ing.ing.
Then there was Toriclvis. Sport
ing his usual powder blue jump
suit, the California milkman-tumcd
travcling Elvis impersonator was a
walking tribute to the King. Just
howchccsy was DreadZep’sobese
front man? Let’s just say you
could’ve dipped a cracker in his fat
butt.
But while the goofincss of Tortel
vis and rest of the band members
made for a more energetic show, it
never overshadowed their origi
nality as musicians. Led Zeppelin
tunes played to reggae rhythms is
certainly a novel idea — one that
Toriclvis claims he got from Elvis
himself. Thai’s what folks came to
hear, and Dread Zeppelin deliv
ered. Bassist Pul-Mon, guitarists
Carl Jah and Jah Paul Jo, conga
man Ed Zeppelin, and Cheese ripped
through a funky instrumental ren
dition of “Over the Hills and Far
Away,’’ before their flabby vocal
ist — flanked by his entourage —
came on stage to howl through
“Black Dog.”
Tortclvis’ stage lackey, Charlie
Haj, handed out towels to the sweaty
crooner from time to lime, and
Tortclvis in turn tossed them into
the crowd. They played this rou
tine to the hill, with the big guy
giving the audience the Elvis power
claw for effect.
In between the lip curling and
the on-stage karate, Tortclvis
managed to sound pretty good on
classics like “Your Time is Gonna ’
Come” and “Hcartbrcakcr.” The
show was a short one, considering
the $11 ticket price. Dread Zeppe
lin came out for just one encore,
Elvis’ “My Way,” which it per
formed with opening hand the Straw
berry Zots.
After the show, the boys met
with the press and signed auto
graphs in a couple of vacant lanes
in the bowling alley next door.
All in all, Dread Zeppelin gave
everyone what they expected — a
no-holds-barrcd cheese lest. They
also gave everyone a hell of a good
time.
