5 thoughts on “This Sat, Nov 13 10pm: MASAKI BATOH (of GHOST), WHITE MAGIC (solo) in Pioneertown – FREE, ALL AGES”
Damn Carsons says:
wow…what a disaster. i’m not sure whether to pity or admire the person who booked this. me and some pals were in Joshua Tree for the weekend, and being Ghost fans, were looking forward to this psychedelicized coincidence.
we arrived at Pappy & Harriet’s after a bizarre cab ride piloted by some fellow who told us, among many other things, that he ran against Walter Mondale in a 1972 Senate run. Some cover band was playing goodtime classic rock hits and the place is pretty crowded. we managed to get a table that sheltered us from the brunt of the sound and ordered up some quite tasty (catfish sandwich — highly recommended) food and drink while we waited for the “late show”. the rock’n’rollers finished and soon White Magic went on. The room quickly started thinning out, some bros & chix retreating to the back pool room to avoid this weirdness, or leaving altogether. snickers abounded.
she gets done, and while Batoh sets up, the beer gets to me and i go to the restroom to release some of it. there’s some guy puking in a stall and his buddies keep coming in to make fun of him. “You PUKIN, Elmer? heh heh” “yehhhmmuuurrggggh” comes the reply from the stall… they’re also pretty drunk so i finish my business as fast as i can and get out of there before they realize i’m there for that weird music that replaced their good time rock & roll.
i come back and he asks the already-fed-up-with-this-weird-ass-music-and-freakish-hippies-inhabiting-her-club soundboard overseer lady for a second mic for his banjo. She says something about how the “real” soundperson had to leave due to an “emergency” and there are no other mics. MB is not pleased. I’m sitting right in front of the sound lady, hear her snark “I’m sure it’ll be great”. oh man.
so he starts playing his acoustic guitar and then goes into this tuvan throat singer type thing. in the midst of this, there are about 5 not-there-for-Batoh people remaining, locals or otherwise non-weird-music fans to the side of the stage who were being loud and obnoxious and making fun of it. some girl shushes them, words are exchanged (couldn’t make them out over the music), and they get up and leave in a big huff.
finally he’s had it with this shit and starts fiddling with this thing he had up there that looked like tinkertoy sticks in the shape of a pyramid that when he moved or squeezed it, it made this loud static sound. 30 seconds to a minute’s worth of white noise ensues. dude behind me next to the soundboard lady goes “mmm, deep.” MB stands up, says “thank you”, throws down the mic and (politely) kicks over his amp and then storms out the back door. i think total onstage time was about 5 minutes.
luckily there was no violence. seemed like there coulda been some. felt bad for Batoh — probably shoulda had him just play in the courtyard at the Joshua Tree Inn or something where he could commune with Gram’s ghost. bummer man.
A loft sounds like a much better setting. Or in this case, outdoors in the desert somewhere around there… or the Integratron maybe. That would have been way killer. Oh well.
I felt bad for him hitting his head on the overhang at Feeding Tube when he played there, but there was enough love to block the pain. let the magic do its work.
Arthur Magazine 
wow…what a disaster. i’m not sure whether to pity or admire the person who booked this. me and some pals were in Joshua Tree for the weekend, and being Ghost fans, were looking forward to this psychedelicized coincidence.
we arrived at Pappy & Harriet’s after a bizarre cab ride piloted by some fellow who told us, among many other things, that he ran against Walter Mondale in a 1972 Senate run. Some cover band was playing goodtime classic rock hits and the place is pretty crowded. we managed to get a table that sheltered us from the brunt of the sound and ordered up some quite tasty (catfish sandwich — highly recommended) food and drink while we waited for the “late show”. the rock’n’rollers finished and soon White Magic went on. The room quickly started thinning out, some bros & chix retreating to the back pool room to avoid this weirdness, or leaving altogether. snickers abounded.
she gets done, and while Batoh sets up, the beer gets to me and i go to the restroom to release some of it. there’s some guy puking in a stall and his buddies keep coming in to make fun of him. “You PUKIN, Elmer? heh heh” “yehhhmmuuurrggggh” comes the reply from the stall… they’re also pretty drunk so i finish my business as fast as i can and get out of there before they realize i’m there for that weird music that replaced their good time rock & roll.
i come back and he asks the already-fed-up-with-this-weird-ass-music-and-freakish-hippies-inhabiting-her-club soundboard overseer lady for a second mic for his banjo. She says something about how the “real” soundperson had to leave due to an “emergency” and there are no other mics. MB is not pleased. I’m sitting right in front of the sound lady, hear her snark “I’m sure it’ll be great”. oh man.
so he starts playing his acoustic guitar and then goes into this tuvan throat singer type thing. in the midst of this, there are about 5 not-there-for-Batoh people remaining, locals or otherwise non-weird-music fans to the side of the stage who were being loud and obnoxious and making fun of it. some girl shushes them, words are exchanged (couldn’t make them out over the music), and they get up and leave in a big huff.
finally he’s had it with this shit and starts fiddling with this thing he had up there that looked like tinkertoy sticks in the shape of a pyramid that when he moved or squeezed it, it made this loud static sound. 30 seconds to a minute’s worth of white noise ensues. dude behind me next to the soundboard lady goes “mmm, deep.” MB stands up, says “thank you”, throws down the mic and (politely) kicks over his amp and then storms out the back door. i think total onstage time was about 5 minutes.
luckily there was no violence. seemed like there coulda been some. felt bad for Batoh — probably shoulda had him just play in the courtyard at the Joshua Tree Inn or something where he could commune with Gram’s ghost. bummer man.
Agreed. Bizarre booking.
Too bad. The show he did with The Starving Weirdos in a loft in Humboldt a few days before this was the picture of conviviality.
A loft sounds like a much better setting. Or in this case, outdoors in the desert somewhere around there… or the Integratron maybe. That would have been way killer. Oh well.
I felt bad for him hitting his head on the overhang at Feeding Tube when he played there, but there was enough love to block the pain. let the magic do its work.