A City of Thousands Can’t Hold The White Bitch Back

Interview by Dan Fox

Since arriving in New Orleans a little over seven years ago, Michael Patrick Welch and his host of personas have overtaken New Orleans like so much kudzu racing through virgin Southern soil. His first appearance, largely metaphysical, was in The Donkey Show, Welch’s semi-autobiographical novel about his initiation into the city by way of two of its most entrenched institutions: the cutthroat underbelly of a fine dining establishment and the Orleans Parish Public School System, where as a teacher he earned his stage name, the White Bitch. The loudest and most urgent of Welch’s alter egos, the White Bitch has slowly become a staple of the New Orleans music scene. What started out as a sampler-enhanced solo performance has expanded over the years, with the White Bitch incorporating live musicians into his act as well as early noise pioneer and all-around fun-time guy Ray Bong (of the Bongoloids). It might come as a surprise that his first album The White Bitch’s Prey Drive, released this month, is mostly guitar-oriented, like Santana over a beat machine. Another surprise is how polished Welch’s voice sounds as he expertly wails over pop tunes that infect and echo in your brain long after the song has ended. ANTIGRAVITY caught up with Welch and accomplice Ray Bong one sweltering July night to discuss, among so many of the possibilities, his new album, helming the late Keith Moore’s Noizefest and what exactly it means to be called “The White Bitch.” Special thanks to Chauncey, Welch’s pygmy goat, who head-butted me towards the end of the interview.

ANTIGRAVITY: This is the White Bitch’s first album?

Michael Patrick Welch: Of my whole life.

AG: What took so long?

MW: Well, actually Ray loaned me a thousand dollars! Maybe at two other points in my life I would’ve put out an album but I didn’t have the money at the time.

Ray Bong: You had done up a series of songs about three years ago, which were almost good enough.

MW: I’ve been playing shows almost once a month since I was fifteen, since my dad was driving me to the club with my equipment. One time, somebody in the crowd had to get on stage and tune my guitar. It was in Florida in this little town where there’d never been a local band.

AG: What did you bill yourself as? (more…)

Interview by Dan Fox

Photos by Chris George

It was a bittersweet day in 2004 when Chris George and Daniel Majorie powered down their Milton St. home studio in old Gretna for the last time. For years, the aptly-titled Living Room had earned a reputation for being the place for up and coming bands of all genres to record. Some of our most beloved performers, from Blair Gimma, Big Blue Marble and Community to Hawg Jaw and Outlaw Order cut some of their first recordings at the Living Room. It wasn’t just the rock bottom costs, which were always per project (never hourly) that kept it booked solid through the year, but the whole experience of tracking in an intimate environment (the control room doubled as George’s bedroom) with people who brought a fiery, passionate and personal approach to engineering. Majorie’s engineering skills, which he had honed at school and in Nashville, coupled with George’s creative abilities that ranged from mic placement and drum tuning to barbecue and photography made for an unforgettable experience for musicians otherwise feeling the stress of a recording session. Their success eventually exhausted the possibilities of that little house and it became increasingly evident that a new venue would be needed, one that would not only broaden the possibilities but suggest a full-time occupation instead of recording only after a day’s work in an outside world hardly sympathetic to the hours music keeps. For over two years now, the buzz has been growing over the work that Majorie and George have put into the church/machine shop sitting directly under the Crescent City Connection, which was little more than a shell and a prayer when they wrangled it away from the city’s coffers. The Living Room Studio, version two is about ready to open its doors again and the wait will have been well worth it. From the colorful paint choices to the crisp echo of the live room, it’s clear that the past couple of years have been a labor of love for Majorie and George. ANTIGRAVITY caught up with the duo as they worked in the control room, one of the last spaces of the studio to be completed, and talked about reviving old gear, keeping bands happy and, of course, the good ole’ days of four-track cassette recording. (more…)

“It isn’t about every song being some genius home run. Music is more eclectic than that. Records are more eclectic than that. That’s why “Wild Honey Pie” is on the “White Album.” —Charles Thompson

Mountain Battles is the Breeders’ White Album. Maybe I’m supposed to woo you more, suggest and insinuate with all kinds of flowery descriptions of what this album sounds like (and don’t worry, it’s coming), but there it is, my big, wet, sloppy kiss to you and also to this record, which has made my ears born again. It’s the kind of album that shatters the critic’s system of stars, grades and whatever ruler is put up to the latest offerings, but there you have them up above there. The otherwise venerable Onion A.V. Club, for example, gives Mountain Battles a C+. calling it “shapeless.” Are we beyond the point of no return where albums have to be a string of easily digestible hits, served up one right after the other? Maybe Mountain Battles’ spectrum is so wide ranging it’s hard for those with impaired senses (like music critics) to understand, even though the Breeders lay it out quite simply on the first two tracks. Opener “Overglazed” is an ethereal echo, an easy refrain shout-sung over swooping guitar riffs and an excitable drum track. The follow-up, “Bang On,” then counters as a lo-fi, staticy hopscotch tune with lyrics that seem deliberately unfinished, though the otherwise vivid insert artwork (by Pixies veteran Vaughan Oliver) leaves them out. The third track, “Night of Joy,” finds us in the dead center and is the sweetest black hole lullaby you could possibly lose yourself in. The title, alas, does not reference (in any discernible way) the low-rent strip club in Confederacy of Dunces, though it wouldn’t be hard to imagine the spacey Darlene humming this to herself as she practices her “routine.” (more…)

This story originally appeared in ANTIGRAVITY Vol.5 Issue 2 (December 2007).

The Baddest Brush in Town, Part II:

Who is Winning the Color Wars in New Orleans?

by Sara Pic, with Dan Fox

In last month’s issue we attempted to describe the situation between taggers, graffiti writers, street artists and anyone who’s taken to New Orleans’ public visual space to express themselves, and their collective headache known as Fred Radtke, dubbed the “Gray Ghost” for his ubiquitous blocks of paint throughout the city (also known as “buffs” and “ghosts”). Radtke has made eradicating others’ graffiti by imposing his own a personal crusade, regardless of the law, the wishes of the community and visual aesthetics in general. In Part I we talked to a few artists who have organized efforts against Radtke, notably ReX of NoLa Rising and the Krewe of Krabkakes. These artists and the many others who take to the streets opposite Radtke seem to end up in a zero-sum, eternal battle with Radtke: they paint, he covers it; they take to the gray as if it were a fresh canvas, he returns, etcetera, ad nauseam. The result, as can be seen by anyone with two eyes, is a huge quilt of spray paint and primer that covers the city. But what about the more “ordinary” citizens who are equally frustrated by Radtke but don’t feel the need to go out in the middle of the night to stencil their thoughts on one of his fresh stretches of gray? In this second installment, ANTIGRAVITY attempts to understand more fully whether Radtke is a martyr or a criminal, as we speak with the Vieux Carre Commission, one local business owner and a New Orleans police officer, while also exploring allegations of violent acts by the Gray Ghost. (more…)

To all the people who think that New Orleans metal is Eyehategod and Soilent Green and Goatwhore and Crowbar and Down, to all the people who think that New Orleans hardcore is nonexistent, that it manifests every six months or never—here’s a big ol’ swinging set of balls dangling in your face. Frankenstein balls, to be precise. Resurrected from pieces broken off of Katrina-killed bands like Rat in a Bucket, Cancer Patient and Scrotesque come five of the nicest, hardest working, unrelenting brahs this side of The Parish. Drummer Keith Sierra and vocalist Shaun Emmons (of Rat in a Bucket) joined bassist Ryan Pomes and the dual axemen Grant Tom (Cancer Patient) and Jason Cook (Scrotesque) to form Haarp. They recently completed a self-titled EP that captures the perfect balance between the grit and organic tones of hardcore punk with the operatic arrangements and tight execution of heavy metal. Probing the pain of consciousness much like the monster who never asked to be created in the first place, Haarp relates each pang one blood-curdling riff, one tortured howl at a time. ANTIGRAVITY caught up with Haarp one evening to discuss former lives, metal voices and true audience terror. Head bangers and thrashers alike, prepare for the new era. (more…)

“You do you, I’m a do me—and don’t come between this here.” With this simple yet profound declaration, Lil’ Doogie introduced himself to the world a little over a year ago on his website, lildoogie.com. He has since become an internet sensation, posting videos of the adventures that take him from the deepest recesses of West Bank garage hang-outs to the heart of New Orleans, even showing up during Mardi Gras on local TV network WGNO’s report from the Endymion parade. If you’ve been following him then you’re familiar with his spicy-tongued rants on all things related to the thug life. You may even be sporting his face on a Dirty Coast t-shirt that asks quite simply, “Brah, I’m real?” Well, long-time fans, you might be in for a surprise. ANTIGRAVITY was recently contacted by Lil’ Doogie because he had something “to tell them people.” We met up at the park on a nice Sunday afternoon to find out what he had to say and, as you’ll shortly find out, it was quite the eye-opener. (more…)