Obscured by artificial clouds, the three members of Boris, and special guest Michio Kurihara, took the Mohawk stage the same way they had only eight months prior, but what transpired could not have been more contrary. Whereas October’s Roaring Silence Revue launched Pink’s pummeling psych-punk missiles and scanned the spectral brilliance of Rainbow, at one point even venturing into Kurihara’s Sunset Notes, last Saturday’s meltdown stuck predominately to the Japanese trio’s latest, Smile. The album is easily the band’s most expansive and melodic work to date, as evidenced by the opening, astral interpretation of PYG’s “Flower Sun Rain” and the heavy mettle missives “Buzz-In” and “Laser Beam.” Of course, reinvention is nothing new to Boris, and the hour-long set proved an insightful snapshot of the group at this particular moment in time, even if the sound wasn’t loud enough to match the magnitude of the band. What made the venture truly remarkable, though, was hearing the way in which Kurihara sculpts Boris’ vision, adding peripheral echo guitar to the screaming tonal bliss of “Ka Re Ha Te Ta Sa Ki – No Ones Grieve” and piercing through the massive distortion of the closing, untitled drone. The trance-inducing extended intro to “Statement” leaned closer to the alternative version crafted by producer You Ishihara, while b-side “Floorshaker” more than lived up to its name with thick Lizzy guitar harmonies and a pulsing backbeat, over which double-necked guitarist Takeshi outlined the Boris experience in Japanese: I found a ripped ear on the floor. This must be yours. I found the sand stained dark red, But still you must be dancing.

It’s been an encouraging year so far. Locally, there’s a lot to be excited about with upstart acts like Black Joe Lewis & the Honey Bears, Dustin Welch & the House Band, the Band of Heathens, the Belleville Outfit, and Suzanna Choffel proving the scene remains diverse and vibrant. Meanwhile, veterans like Joe Ely, Alejandro Escovedo, Kacy Crowley, and James McMurtry continue to challenge and enthrall and Grupo Fantasma and Shearwater remain in leagues of their own. I decided to make a mixtape of tracks from my favorite albums of the half-year. I’ve written about almost all of these artists either in the pages of the Chronicle or here in Geezerville, and the 22 tracks fit on an 80-minute CD. Hopefully it’ll turn you on to something you might have missed. I’m sure if there’s something I’ve forgotten, you’ll let me know.

There’s really nothing like hearing pre-recorded Jay-Z verses flow over original composition. As 2006’s S. Carter remix proved by morphing the haunting “Moment of Clarity” into Big Jack’s bravado-soaked revision, Jay’s lyrics can take on an entire new meaning when matched against a new vibe. “So pop, I forgive you for all the shit that I lived through. It wasn’t all your fault, homie, you got caught.” A forgiving confession becomes a one-up boast at dad. The same holds true on Mick Boogie’s Brooklyn Soul, the pieced-together collabo of Jay’s American Gangster lyrics and Mick’s pick of Marvin Gaye samples. “Party Life,” sleeking on Diddy’s sample of Little Beaver’s “Get Into the Party Life,” breaks out the champagne when dipped in Marvin’s “Everybody Needs Love.” Gangster’s Bigg D pull of “B-Boy Bouillabaisse” shaking “Hello Brooklyn 2.0” gets a bit more personal when Jay and Lil Wayne receive some “Sexual Healing.” “Distant Lover” adds a sense of desperation to the brazenly depicted hustler narrating “No Hook.” Most telling is “Roc Boys,” where the “drinks on the house”-drenched celebration brings to mind those classic Jay music videos from the Life and Times of S. Carter era, but it evolves into something sinister, something under the table. Obviously, Mick Boogie profiting off this one would be mind-bendingly illegal, but it’s available online through his site.

“I tell people all the time that I know you’re supposed to stop and smell the roses as you go though life, but in my case I stopped and moved into the garden,” quips Bugs Henderson. The Tyler-raised, East Texas-based guitarist is playing the Saxon Pub on Friday but has been keeping Texas a dangerous place for the blues since the 1960s. Back then, Henderson was part of regionally popular DFW band called Mouse & the Traps, whose “L-O-V-E Love” and “Public Execution” singles charted across the state. He later bent six strings with John Nitzinger and was a favorite at the Armadillo throughout the 1970s while playing with and opening for the likes of Freddie King, the Allman Brothers, B.B. King, and Eric Clapton. Good thing the blues is a timeless genre, for Henderson’s expertise matched peers such as Denny Freeman and Jimmie Vaughan for steel-belted muscle on the guitar neck.

Bavu Blakes had a big idea at the close of 2007. “I was inspired by [Crooked I],” Blakes says, forking his way through a salad Wednesday afternoon. “Once I started to look forward to what he was doing every week, I just thought, ‘Why can’t I do that?’” He’s talking about Crooked I’s Hip-Hop Weekly, a weekly lyrical offering from the Los Angeles rapper that led him to start 08 Is So Great. Every Monday, Bavu updates the site with a new track from his arsenal. “It’s my radio station,” he laughs. “Everybody wants to listen to something new every week.” So Bavu switches it up, throwing different looks and styles on the site. Three minutes of Element7D over the Roots’ “Star” on April 7. A radio pull of the self-penned “Drop It Girl” on May 17. A cut-up collabo with buddy Erykah Badu on the inaugural “Honey.” “Sometimes you get a soulful, spiritual thing,” he offers, “and sometimes it sounds Eastern. It depends on which way the wind's blowing.”

When George Carlin passed away earlier this week, I got to thinking about some of my favorite routines. And, thanks to the wonders of YouTube, I spent nearly a whole day watching clips of his priceless performances. One of my favorite Carlin rants is when he takes on the absurdity of political correctness, arguing that our modern culture has distorted and diluted our terminology so much in trying not to offend, that our language has become meaningless and even hypocritical. He calls to task everything from “post-traumatic stress disorder” to “bathroom tissue.” With a familiar sneer of disbelief on his face, his tracing the transition from the term “cripple” to “differently-abled” is particularly hilarious and scathing. It’s not that Carlin was flaunting his being an insensitive bastard, but rather that somehow our culture had tried to deflect individuality and difference to the point that identity had been whitewashed.

Tracking down every album released by Boris makes finding a needle in a haystack seem like a time (and cost) efficient endeavor. The Japanese trio has released countless recordings through labels on both sides of the Atlantic, from Drag City, Important, and Hydra Head in the U.S. to Japan’s Inoxia, Daymare, and Diwphalanx. Making matters more complex, each pressing differs in some way from the one that preceded it, with changes ranging from subtle (the color of the vinyl, the cover art) to the extreme (the actual track listing). “In a lot of ways, some of this material is not meant to be readily available,” notes Southern Lord’s Greg Anderson. “Boris looks at music almost as art projects. They need to create and get things out of their system so they can move on to the next idea.” Thankfully, Boris tours with an incredibly expansive and well-organized merchandise booth, occasionally even carrying albums from White Heaven and the Stars, along with solo efforts from You Ishihara and Michio Kurihara (all of which are worth every penny). As a general frame of reference, the band traditionally identifies itself either as “BORIS,” to signify more song-structured rock & roll albums or as “Boris” and “boris,” to denote more experimental recordings and collaborations. Here’s a guide to the more readily available imports you may come across on Saturday at the Mohawk.*

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Episode Two: We go shoe shopping with local rappers Phranchyze and Zeale.

"Welcome to my life, tattoo! I'm a man now, thanks to you. I expect I'll regret you, but the skin-graft man won't get you, You'll be there when I die, tattoo!" – The Who's "Tattoo" Nothing says "loyal fan" like getting some artwork inked into your skin forever. These Austinites felt moved to wear their passion on their sleeves. Or, in some cases, sleeve their passion on their arms. Click through the gallery for the ink.