Takes a lot of grit to survive the thin, high desert of untethered consuming. Punk ass maslow and the white western machine straight up canceled community actualization, the highest ascension on the blackfoot’s hierarchy of human needs. They came back and the board actually white washed community.1
In lieu of a nurturing, supportive, and defined pasture of actualization within a hair-trigger cancel culture, those out there consuming under the maslow theory will eat themselves dead. I did. Several fucking times.
Those who either failed and gained a lesson, or learned early on how to survive here within infinite corruption and blatant absenteeism, did so with grit, the resistor of life at altitude. It’s gotta come from within around these parts.
Sure as fuck ain’t comin’ nowhere else.
I don’t listen to music to escape the thing. I use music to travel to it. The secret was to let go of the flight control stick. Hands off baby. I have no idea where I’m going until your music takes me to the place (or it doesn’t). Once I’m there, I let it go and celebrate life’s little victories in the now, grateful for my past experiences and blown away by the sheer unlikelihood I am still alive, and willing to tell the damn story.
The following is a sampling of music with enough grit to engage the musical tenets of their creation, production, and performance, along with my newfound experimental factors (tenets) supplying the torque needed to power take off. Engagement. For industry purposes and for journalistic integrity, artists can call it stringer’s grit list; stuff that helps ya find your own blind spots, ya dig. I simply gave up on trying to find all the music (with traction) in the state to have the audacity to call anything best; labels and titles cannot quantify human healing through vulnerability. The notion is bonkers.
Twenny-twenny-five is gonna be weird y’all but for now, as we enjoy an unpredictable amount of bliss before an undetermined, yet imminent detonation in the music industry and our human culture, this crew kept their songwriting production (symphony of explosions) in the optimum operating range, post-covid to now, pre-whatever-happens-next, in the mechanical and spiritual cosmos of one Joe Smith, Stringer.
For now, take a short trip through Stringer’s Grit List. Looking back is eerily painful for me. I can barely stomach my early writing, and all the dead versions of myself who penned it, but I understand the importance of having some sort of artistic platform (truth on a billboard) for faithful readers and musicians alike to read, for perhaps the first time ever, my absolute written vulnerability. Here we go.
***Moon Thieves - without rival, the group has ancient ties to the spirits that roam the alamedas and irrigation ditches of our sacred, yet varied occupied homeland. Demons and fairies alike dance with intoxicated abandon in the pangs of a Moon Thieves show. Devout educators in the youth community, their superpower is compassion. They do a ton of shadow and public fund raising for our struggling youth community. Angels, all of them.
***Felix Gato Peralta - there is no live music scene in new mexico without Felix Peralta, and most notably with Felix y Los Gatos. As of late, Felix has released a string of new solo songs and is now in writing production with heavy hitting collaborators around the world. A raven for many, Felix tells the whole damn story in spirited detail and lightly dusted vocals to make you feel the ghosts of Comanche Highway (my fav). Does it again with his mystical vibes in La Llorona and the more uplifting Callejero. A modern day, working class troubadour, Skys the Limit is a prime example of the worldly and regional influences, ancient and new, flowing in the veins to the fingertips of the most recognizable musician in the state and the haunting spirits that birthed his music. Felix and I fully support one another in sobriety and cosmic exploration.
That night was unusually dark for me, and being in the tribe that Felix has crafted over a lifetime of emotion, took my focus off the negative, and out of my own head, and flipped it on its ass and transported me to a more beautiful, love-filled, and inspiring world where human connectivity not only delivers the message, it is the sole reason the message is created in the first place.
The ancient, arctic tribes believed the raven brought light to their world, usually after a long, harsh, total dark winter. The raven would arrive right before spring and it was a sign to the caretakers of the land that a new beginning was imminent, the sun would return, and some began preparing the land for planting and for hunting game. Poems and songs have been written about the raven and its significance.
Mr. Felix Peralta is the raven I needed that night. He, with his guitar, was a sign that the sun would return after death of old self and that he has traveled the path before. He now shares his journey with us, often in muted voice, but with an amplified instrument that circles effortlessly over the pit of lost souls, lifting the ones who are paying attention, and walks away, into the night, with a black guitar case, in much the same way the raven flew into the next world: without a word spoken.
Stringer (2023, Live! From Duke City, barely recovered from my old website)
***Hooks and The Huckleberries - likely the best song-writer with grit and trajectory in the nation right now, Adam Hooks and the econoline-strapped Huckleberries emerged out of the global, pre-pandemic punk rock scene (well before my arrival to the state). One that damn near killed a few souls from the old guard. The delightfully quirky crew, with two records under their belts, has a massive following outside the emptiness of albuquerque; for reasons elusive to absolutely no one, Huckleberry fans resolutely refuse to support the best rhythmic story tellers, soundscaping-string benders, and music producers in the nation south of red river or north of los lunas. There is a story within a story there but I ain’t got time to tell it (here). Stringer recommends a trip outside of the state, perhaps at a music fest or a proper dance hall / saloon to capture the unbridled essence of The Huckleberries with one helluva surprise favorite, Someone Else; cheeky and hip If You’re Still Up For It (I’m Down); mystical and spiritual hymnal Jemez; and the most heart-breaking coming to terms that life is just gonna suck before it kills you, Pennies On The Rail will make ya write a dance ditty to your own epitaph. If you can go around albuquerque to see this crew live, please do; they are by far supremely more enjoyable in towns where venues are not hamstrung by self-induced cannabalized absence.
***Mal Paraiso - I have a special place in my soul for heavy music and kind humans. suspense. intrigue. ridiculousness. and economy. How fast can you get me there? MalPo’s Here Lies Big Sad will get ya there quick and hang you over the edge of oblivion upside down while tickling your hairy armpits with haunting gnomatic bouts of fairy tale madness, psychedelic journeys in the black forest, and planet-hopping production best experienced live; up close. Some of the kindest humans in music today. MalPo is the only crew in town I will pay money to listen to a fifteen minute song and gladly thank them upon landing. Dogs of Stoned Gnome is a journey folks best experienced on an empty stomach; lots of planets out there to explore.
Lord of Pain is my current favorite stimming song.
Mal Paraiso at One Stone Studio back in Aug 2023; Luke on drums, easily one of the brightest lights in the known galaxy; if not, certainly the kindest.
***Kalina Scollon - the breakout artist nobody (except for rhea) is watching. Kalina was the first I observed in a solo live setting who put beat and a convincing rhythm into her vocal delivery and did so well enough for me to take notice. I had just watched a Levon Helm video about breaks and beats in his percussion (in between vocal notes) and immediately heard it with Kalina, except she did it without a drum kit. Eye for Eye is a certified banger; moves the body on first signature (both the EP and the single). A brand new power anthem of real world abuse and programmed confusion (instilled fear from toxic humans) gloriously bolstersKalina’s voice to give her music depth, conviction, and above all, a much needed creative outlet to the stars where her projection carries. Hear all of it in her newest release Glass Bottle. Music production is refreshingly cinematic; resolute and difinitive. Kalina Scollon is the feminine warrior of self compassion and strength we need on the global stage.
***contact - did I mention I like suspense and ridiculousness? Let’s start with suspense, shall we?
Half way through Prairie Dawg’s opening set, a flying brick hit me in the head and I was like, wait a minute, if PD is opening, who the fuck is closing? PD did their damn thing, as per usual; Sourdough absolutely ripped my soul out of the grave; and then contact. For whatever reason, I was on the right-side wall. Never have I ever witnessed what has been going on at back yard house shows, skate park gigs, and arroyos of bare bones DIY, as what contact generated that cold night in barelas.
contact commanded a tidal swell of energy into the hearts of a very rare, and special music scene in the forgotten town of albuquerque. a celestial and vibrant centrifuge of human energy, moving as one; the band, relentless with suspense, ridiculousness, intrigue, and masterful rhythm pushed scores of bodies in a giant, counterclockwise motion while everyone in the crowd screamed every word to every lyric.
If there is ever a story to be told from this imminent carnage, it will be told by Christopher Walsh, in his Decline of Southwestern Civilization docu-series and production of the history and decay (mad corruption) of albuquerque’s DIY music scene. For this grit list, contact gave me an insight to an underground world of existence through misplaced resistance and inexplicable rejection, nurtured by the sheer necessity of it.
contact is resistance for inexplicable human rejection; a nucleus of primal grit, coming of age carnage, and industry rage set to a commanding assault of percussed and stringed rhythm to move souls en masse.
***manhigh - a buffet serving of death, loss, and the grit to keep somehow doing the damn thing. Gambino and I are both combat veterans and all that means is that we have adapted to jumping out of perfectly comfortable airplanes and landing in trench warfare, the crossfire and traps of society, to sort out our own bullshit…life limb and eyesight be damned. And they are. The power duo does it with space-traveling grit, moon-space rhythm, and amplified alkaline harshness to keep the reaper just out of reach from cutting the power cord.
Three musicians, headed west to California, came up with the name, manhigh, based off the 1950’s Air Force aero-medical experiment that researched the human factors of space travel using balloons as the human vessel.
…
Music is love and love of a thing is often the only force that keeps us mortals on this giant rock methodically drifting through a time and space continuum we simply cannot comprehend.
Stringer (early 2023)
***Craig Buchanan - Cross My Path - craig was the first to sort of catch on to what I was hearing in music, after reading my manhigh piece. It feels like ten years ago, but he asked me to take a look at his solo work and I was hooked. For months. I was a brand new writer and knew absolutely nothing about music structure, ancient rhythms, beats, chords, etc, but the songs had grit. Craig admits that it was a rager; a pissed off break up album, but the way he wrote it and performs it, it could be a brilliant road map for those suffering mental anomalies and anyone who struggles with acceptance of self while in relationships with other humans. Cross My Path is raw and it boogies where it needs to and in other locales, strangles the listener with convincing pain releases in song, most notably in California Sun. Ain’t no faking with Cross My Path. My all time favorite stimming song is No Name Son of a Bitch (acoustic version).
***Royal Monaco - started out a 90’s cover band of gen X’rs and maybe one millennial, but quickly began putting their own songs together, wrote an album’s worth of material, and produced some of the best live rock music shows in town before the keyboardist had to move away. Ugh. They blew me away at marble brewing in early 2023 and I began to follow along on their journey. The crew will never get the credit or recognition they deserve for their brief escape in Royal Monaco. The album is superb. Really superb. Really, Tracy.
***The Talking Hours - I made a public comment one night on insta in reference to muses and their artists. It’s a win win deal with this crew. Either they get it from the audience or they get it from each other. Either way, they gettin’ it. Mad love for Mo and Karie as they produce the most consistent alt/synth rock music in the state. Most recognizable, for sure. The Talking Hours, along with Gilead Rises and Red Light Cameras, do a ton of brutal fundraising in the community to support those with less among us. Recognizable music and artists brought the most consistent fans in a very lackluster post-covid recovery scene; one that plagued most of the state, and venues shuddered.
***Nara Visa - the most beautiful and glorious bit of ridiculousness that is life in albuquerque, post-pandemic going into the control-state apocalypse. Our Lady of the Duck Pond is a low-budget, high production masterpiece of song in story. Yes, you read that right. This crew has soothing, yet intriguing instrumental arrangements set to a flowing story in song, enhanced by its endearing and hilarious authenticity. Hands down my most favorite indulgence is an afternoon riding the comforts of my obnoxious new lifted shit box chevrolet while ignoring the aggravated movements of time in reverse that is life in this damn backwards town. What’s it like living in albuquerque you say? Buy the damn album, push play.
***FirebirdFM - is not only the musical creation of Albuquerque’s own Nora Madonna, it served briefly, and hopefully one day again, as the voice and heart of Wasteland Radio. Nora’s curated insights, intricate songwriting, and online music selections gave me several leads to my never-ending blind spots: portals to my own bullshit. FirebirdFM was my first insight to controlled chaos and how the whole crew, queer as a yellow wall, kept the damn thing from detonating while being so astethically appealing to those seeking visual recognition with their grit. They put it together long enough to record and release Live! At Frogville, up in Santa Fe. My favorite song however, Hollow Medicine, didn’t make the album. I hope the whole wide world hears So Many Roads (written by Jennifer Joyce) along with Catchfire. Diamond Ring and Blown Fuse (written by Hannah) are rippers. If we ever catch on to Modern Days, it will be too late.
Nora also put together one of the most chill, inclusive, safe, and uplifting pride parties in the state in 2023 at Boese Bros downtown. She called it SHINE and I learned so much about myself there that day through a super nova lineup of music. Volumes still to unpack and mountains to deconstruct. I have often looked back on that day as a significant turning point in the scene; a celebration of self with a lace of foreboding between the alley walls. The very scene we are seeing faltering before us.
***Los Mocos - the last most recognizable remnants of the old pre-covid DIY guard, yet young enough to blaze their own trail of sonic and punk mayhem, lubricated by the snot and bile of politicians, colonizers, and the billionaire pop star we all hate; the crew remembers the day when, not very long ago, bands had to pay to play or sell enough tickets to land the gig. Excuse me what? The shadiness in the industry here has no boundary and makes me wanna wipe boogers in their petty cash account. Catch any of their shows and be met with a tidal wave of supporters who go hard in the paint and throw bo’s while slinging snot at the social crisis that is an absentee government. Los Mocos are the 1960’s humanitarian revolutionaries we need today.
***Prairie Dawg - they do not stand on ceremony, but they are effortlessly phenomenal at what they do. And they do not fuck about. They got a few tricks to sho yaaaaaaaaa
***CeeMo and The Lovers - this one is difficult to describe. If I ever lose my mind again and hop a rail cart to cerillos to ride out the revolution, I’ll wait for CeeMo to sound the all clear from the valley floor; CeeMo’s truth fills the boundless arroyos with mo movement than even super gumby got. This crew is a change agent; they are literally watching the scene die around them while we stare at one another and await the infill. Commanding vocals, convincing lyricism, and enough bass and production to get ‘em on the floor.
***Dollar Store Queen - most New Mexicans won’t understand this, but if you’re gonna lose your mind and run to southern california for a spell, be warned, that weather will make you act up. I was truly out of my mind there and was not doing well at all, but my physical body loved the healing aspect of movement. I spent a lot of time walking around and driving, and on some nights, I’d roll the windows down and let Dollar Store Queen do the damn thing. I dig these little side projects; often unknown and niche, but they are brilliantly produced and pack a huge caprice classic of bass, and soul; they do it with Monster and Little Hours. I spent many a night on the eight, windows down, bumpin’ this crew. highly recommend for all your psychotic drives down ocean beach.
***Jimmy Deveney & The Hold Fast Union - about twice a year, usually fall or spring, I put on High Desert Soul and groove to their high desert masculine truth in sobriety. Got grit from memphus, n’awlins, austin, and albuqeurque. More existential than punk, but more soul than rock, ya dig. Flows nicely with harmony, an iced coffee, and a cigar; plastic covered trailer park furniture, optional.
***Messages - likely my favorite non-performing music project, their record can be enjoyed on any day, gloomy or bright, the album ESCAPISM is a whimsical, yet very solemn journey. It’s soft, tender, yet deftly agile and uplifting through painful truths.
**Jimmy Climbs - got the grit; light on story. Understands community and his place in it. “The world’s on fire, but the heat feels so amazing.” Jimmy fuels his own rocket ship, ya dig. Workin’ hard to transfer misery into light. Keep yer eye on the sky folks.
***Songs Without Purpose - Any variation but mostly with Alex Alunday and Jonah Minkus (anything with Minkus is an absolute pleasure to experience). This crew has the gravity and kindness to maybe actually unite a stark contrast in opposites between santa fe and albuquerque. One of the state’s hidden gems.
***GRAL - Alex McMahon and Greg Williams are New Mexico in mystical and cosmic concert with reality.
***Almost Always Never - had to navigate all the post-covid chaff and did so immediately with a signature sound, look, performance, and humorous, yet cerebral cringe to rise above the unusually dense mediocrity right after the pandemic all clear. Layered songwriting, an advancing evolution of harmony and chant, this group taught me the art of communicating with extreme neurological disadvantages to the mass public, meaning I had some variant or cross-sectioned variant of whatever they had. I spent a ton of time deep diving into their music and I’ve barely scratched the surface. Each music revelation is another bullshit program I have to deconstruct in my own damaged cosmos.
***Richard Aufrichtig - is living his continuous childhood dream in northern new mexico (taos) as a working musician, a working writer, and a working radio dj and all around music promoter. All things centered on modern healing music, the classics, the unknowns, and the intellectually bizarre, Richard invites them all into his Heart Break Studio, plays them all on True Taos Radio, and writes about them on One More Song, his online newsletter. Take a trip up north for one of his Fresh Wind Sessions, and/or Sunset Series. Who knows what will be recorded in 2025, but be on the lookout for another solo album from this relentless community shadow worker in human arts.
***Free Range Buddhas - they are Santa Fe’s rock vibe. and I adore them. I do not adore $anta Fe. Formidable yet tender, Wild Woman takes me on a journey. A ton of research from the song review is embedded in this piece and my writing today. FRB leveled me up as a writer and researcher of existential balance. Harmony within.
***Dog Jury - a two year capstone gone right. after getting fed up with the music scene and lackluster venues briefly, I took the winter off but this extremely recognizable crew got together and launched a full blown assault on western stupidity. never had so much fun doing an album review. ripping it around town with the windows down is fun yo!
***Billy and Bella - came here to slow down, educate a few of our youngin’s, restore an old home, and recover from their own east coast burnout as top tier performing musicians. This really is a $300 crew we get for a lousy ten bucks, if that. Once you settle into their music, a magic carpet ride through the desert awaits with intricate songwriting, intimate harmonies, and mesmerizing guitar work. I am always fascinated by the scenes and soundscapes they paint with their quiet and piercing performances. Enjoy.
I left several former favorites off this list; a light once burned for their music and since has dimmed and it’s impossible for me to wait for the thing to never come, all while knowing its buried alive beneath the rubble of life; I don’t judge. It is simply best for me to move on and accept life as it is in our frustratingly beautiful little community. I may have also forgotten a few; it’s just the downside of my elusive memory these days, and I have more wood to chop.
