Prairie Dawg and their asymmetrical application of terror, mayhem, and kindness
A complete and total annihilation of bedside manners through brutal madness, wrapped in a soft candy shell; a disturbing cutscene of sound
Fed up with the New Mexico virus that is a severe absence of calibrated and vectored musicians in the Radio Wastelands1 of the desert southwest, JD Korpitz Irish-goodbye’d Redbush ‘bout this time last year, the ONLY respectable goddamn punk rock band Albuquerque had, picked up Kerby (drummer) somewhere between Here and There, spray-painted four Buick Regal’s worth of bass cabinets black and chalk white and called the whole damn thing Prairie Dawg, a tidy little tudor of mayhem and spleen removal by way of thundering shock and psychotic incisions.
Yes, that was one sentence foo. I had a vague sense of the previous music departure, but the first Prairie Dawg show, 10 seconds in, I fully understood the subtracted redirect of man’s most precious commodity: time.
And the economy of sound.
If you are out of breath now, and it feels a bit like taking body blows by 1989 Mike Tyson, good; that is one half-second of a Prairie Dawg show. Excruciatingly precise punches from every microscopic movement that is the poetry between Kerby, him drum, and JD, him go boom and sing and scream. No breathing permitted during a Prairie Dawg set. Grunting is mildly tolerated. Headband and creeper glasses wildly encouraged. Mind that first dose. It’s a doozy. Clothing optional, but tiebreaker goes to the venue.
Joseph Daniel Korpitz (known in Latvia only as JD), came wandering down out of them Laramie high grounds sometime back already a veteran touring and gigging musician, and set up shop here in Albuquerque before, during, and after covid.
Where do viruses go when they die? And it’s seriously about to be 2025. Dude.
Knowing JD, he was likely on his way to Mexico City for one of their many, badass and well-supported punk rock fests and just ran out of gas and said f-it, this is good enough; the flea market christmas coffee can of coins and the best intentions dumped over in the passenger floorboard of the general motors hearse that trucks the temple of sound around the high plains and deep gorges of ones own occupation.
Albuquerque has the attention span of a gnat’s left eyeball and likely doesn’t remember Redbush goin the way of homeless liberty before boosting Prairie Dawg last year with Kris Kerby (may ring a nutsac ball peen with former project, Tenderizer), the demon-spawn of drums, surgical percussion, yet with a delicate and adorable lace of cannibalized horror and gore around the edges of a well-abled body who dances with both psych patients and esteemed intellectuals effortlessly to the synchronization of a brilliant flashing and magnificent sound-actuated light show.
Yes, Kerby, I said you are magnificent. Likely the best light/percussion show in town. Extremely under appreciated on 4th St by the white-hairs idling to Mickey Dee’s for their dollar meal of choice.
JD and long-time friend, Jesse Mortensen were band mates in Redbush but more importantly, Jesse has been quietly recording and producing music at Ol’ Blue Hat studios here in NM, when not touring with his dedicated project, Hooks and The Huckleberries, and takes a magical approach of mystical wonderment to broaden the scope of Prairie Dawg’s ultra cringe, uncontrollable gasping, and ball-punching delivery. Jesse doesn’t soften the duo on Prairie Dawg 2024’s THANK YOU; he intuitively uses a parallel realm of shooting stars in the audio assault conduit that sparkles brightly in the amusement of JD’s relentlessly beautiful vocal delivery and Kerby’s hailstorm of planet-hopping array of stardust re-entering the warmer surface temps of our eardrums. Credits say Ol’ Blue Hat added keys, programming, percussion, and group vocals as well. Jesse you sly dawg you. It’s brilliant what you brought to the soundscapes of crushing, bulldozing, and demolition of programmed sanity.
I’ve experienced Prairie Dawg at least four times live and I am enlightened with each pass of the Ol’ Blue Hat-recorded madness my body consumes with youthful and harmless angst followed immediately by biological abandonment. To everyone involved, much love and many thanks for getting this recorded for the world to experience maybe a tenth of what their live stuff does to a cold, dry night in Barelas.
For those near and dear to JD and Kerby, nothing here is new, but with a bit of luck, and maybe one more speaker cab, or seizure, we may be able to mobilize a demographic of music lovers for useless body organ removal without cutting tools. The sheer magic of a Prairie Dawg set is they just beat it outta ya with sonic wavelengths from calculated rage and an ACE barber shop of speakers. I will gladly catch them anywhere in the southwest ever I am in need of such organ removal.
For a city and state who struggle with change, uncertainty, and nofucksgiven disease in supporting the arts, JD and Kerby shot to the top of Stringer’s must-catch-live 2-yr quasi wrap-up, with their vectored (direction and magnitude) music approach and sustained creative exploration while living the harsh, harrowing anxiety that is daily life as an independent touring music project, based in Albuquerque. Prairie Dawg does it routinely and makes it look effortless in the process. Bout as natural a thing gets and the rocky mountain bravado and humor give it the bulletproof base coat primer it needs to weather the high-desert wind, blowing in the next under-appreciated touring act through the petroglyphs of popularized mediocrity.
Stringer
Prairie Dawg album credits (loosely):
I’m super stoked to learn that Jesse (Ol’ Blue Hat) Mortensen and Matthew Tobias had a hand in recording & production as well, with Java Warden helping out in Group Vocals and Jason Burge contributing Spoken Word. Buy their album! Support human arts, dig into what the artists are doing in sonic exploration and existential vulnerability; precursors to growth. Just don’t pick at your scabs.
Ol’ Blue Hat studio is Jesse Mortensen in Rio Rancho, NM
Empty House Studio is currently under construction, but was for a beautiful moment in time, Matthew Tobias in Albuquerque, NM; for his current shenanigans and drumming contributions, follow his personal socials (@matthewdrummer on insta)
Mastering by Felipe Patino at Green Door Recordings; Englewood, CO
See album cover for inclusive credits
Borrowed from Albuquerque native and rising rock star, Nora Madonna of life, and of FirebirdFM; a brief stint as a radio DJ/mystical personality who promoted music from New Mexico on their podcast/broadcast.
Nobody gets to the heart of it like you (not even close)! 💙