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To secretly win over my heart you really needn’t do much more than blend quirky sounds like kazoos and toy pianos. Throw in some fun lyrics and simple hooks and I’m practically head over heels in love. The two man duo of Michael Cadiz and Tyrel Stendahl make up The Terrordactyls and are giving my boyfriend a run for him money for my affection because they do the above so well.

The group makes lo-fi and endearing music that is completely filled with joy and fun. None of it is explosive, but it’s catchy as hell. If you are a fan of The Moldy Peaches you should check them out. The song below features Kimya Dawson as a guest singer.

MP3 - Devices

*All songs posted on Wayward Panties are for promotional use ONLY. If you like the music let the band know by purchasing their music (and shirts and tickets). If you are the owner of this MP3 and would like it taken down please contact us at waywardpanties@gmail.com and we’ll remove it immediately.

This guest blog is written by Benjamin Bergstrand, a dashing member of Cowboy Curse. (The other two members are also dashing in case that sort of thing sways your judgement of a band.) The local 3-piece is yet another favorite of ours and we’re telling you to go see them this Friday (2/22) at Bender’s Tavern. It may be your last chance until the fall! Gasp! Rumor has it they’ll be busy with a new album and nino (that is Spanish for baby) until then. Take your $6 and see them with Blue Million Miles, the Still City and Mansfield Ghost.

(Ben starts writing….NOW!)
I just figured out that I’m 44 years old in rock-n-roll years. It’s a complicated formula involving your actual age, mortgages, drug use habits, children, TV watching habits, which periodicals you read, etc. The specifics aren’t that important, but basically Mick Jagger is 232, Thurston Moore is 75, and I’m 44. And it seems I’ve been making up a lot of ground in rocker years lately. Perhaps soon I’ll just fade into the black curtains of the Larimer Lounge or tumble down the stairs of oblivion at the Hi-Dive.

Unfortunately, a lot of us older rockers run into a brick wall of choices. That’s why our favorite bands dissolve due to life’s twists and turns. I can think of a handful that for one reason or another broke up, not because of fatigue or internal differences, but because the bass player took a job in Portland or the drummer had a kid. I miss you Bright Channel.

Longevity is elusive because, regardless of our life’s status, it’s not always easy for any of us to pursue our passion of making music. For most of us making it happen here in Denver, writing, creating, performing, and recording music that we love…we don’t aspire to be the next Meese or Photo Atlas. And I know there are some people out there, probably even good friends of mine that would say that if you’re not trying to “make it”, what are you trying to do?

So I’ll put it into very simple terms right here: I’m trying to do what I love while living a life that I love.

I really can’t imagine what my life would be like if somehow I had to drop everything else in my life, pack up a bag, my guitar and amp and tour 360 days a year. Or even a quarter of that. That said I’m sure the opportunity will come knocking now.

Does the fact that I’m not hell bent on getting Cowboy Curse on wheels for the bulk of the year mean I’m not driven to write good songs? Does an artist need to aim for the Guggenheim to create a beautiful painting?

At its best, music comes from the heart. From the soul. And for that reason I have hope for many of us in this Denver music scene and our own sustainable longevity.

Not every band can do what we do. I’m very fortunate to have two band members that don’t think twice about supporting me and respecting my choices. They’ve been unbelievably flexible in scheduling rehearsals and shows. When I came to them this fall and told them that my wife and I were expecting another child in May, they didn’t get upset even though they knew things would only get more difficult. I take that as the highest compliment that they stick with me and continue to put their hearts and souls into and behind my songs.

So maybe this is all coming from me, my view, and my own very busy and committed life. Sure. It’s very unrealistic for me to go anywhere. I live in a world that is ruled by a cute 16 month-old dictator named Ainsley. And that little dictator is about to be joined by another little tyrant in May. I have a career that I love. I have a wife that I love way more. I have a mortgage (go me!). I have a wonderful life outside of Cowboy Curse and I feel the pull that makes our favorite local bands breakup. Sometimes I feel how easy it would be for me to just stop writing and making music. But I really hope that doesn’t ever happen, and that I’m present in this Denver music scene for as long as it will have me.

Honestly, I feel pretty silly writing this. There are certainly other folks in this town that have already walked down the path I’m referring to. They’re already here and in some of my favorite bands. But when it comes down to it, we all know this isn’t a pissing contest and pissing contests don’t make for a healthy sustainable scene anyhow. Respect for differences and diversity is the key. And that’s one thing that I’ve felt lately as I’ve seen great new bands filled with younger guys and girls. It’s fantastic to see them doing their thing and know that some of them will share the stage with us sometime and blow my mind. And inevitably, there will come a day when they too will have to make some tough choices.

So what is it that I’m saying to you guys and girls out there in the Denver scene? Ah shucks, let’s grow old together!

Today Wayward Panties guest contributor Kelly Yaker chimes in with her thoughts of RJD2’s show at Cervantes Masterpiece Ballroom last weekend.

I have been a pretty big fan of RJD2 ever since I listened to Deadringer. His effortless transitions have always impressed me, as has his ability to sample obscure albums and turn them into danceable beats. So when I was given the opportunity to see him play at Cervantes Masterpiece Ballroom, I jumped at the chance.

The doors opened at 8 PM and in true me fashion, I arrived promptly at 9 PM. Luckily, there are people in this world that run slightly later than yours truly and the concert did not get started until 10 PM. I spent an hour sitting in an empty room, drinking a beer and staring, transfixed at what I believe to be the world’s largest disco ball.

The stage was unassuming with a sheet and psychedelic art adorning the walls and when RJD2 took the stage his performance began in a similar style. There was no grandiose introduction. No fidgeting around on the stage. Just an ordinary, medium statured white guy dropping some big ass beats.

One of the great things about seeing a DJ in concert is the fact that nothing is exactly scripted. There is no set playlist for a DJ. I couldn’t tell you what my favorite song was because RJD2 spun all new beats throughout his set. He mixed funk, pop, hip hop, disco and jazz seamlessly to a room full of an unlikely audience of hippies that had come to see the other band playing that night, Particle.

A guy I talked to before the show started described Particle as “A jam band you can break dance to.” And while I didn’t see anyone doing the Worm, I will say the band definitely melded jam band melodies with techno danceability.

Neither Particle nor RJD2 seemed to be intimidated by a crowd that seemed less apt to break it down and more likely to toke up. While it seemed to me that it was no small feat that both of the performers got the audience to drop their hackey sacks and get down and boogie, both musicians made it seem like a cake walk.

**Editor’s note — Our guest blogs are written by people involved in the Denver music scene, whether it’s being a musician or just supporting our musicians in some way. This week’s guest is Eli Mishkin of the Hot IQs. We have to admit his blog was sent to us with just pictures. Our interpretation is that Eli is showing us the beginnings of some of our favorite people living today, much like the actual Theory of Evolution shows us how men came from monkeys. If we are wrong, I hope he corrects us. Or if you, dear readers, see a different meaning by all means tell us how wrong we are. We sometimes are still monkeys at our keyboard…

Crispin Glover

turns into Carlos D of Interpol

Boris from Rocky and Bullwinkle

turns into Eddie Argos from Art Brut

Oktoberfest, circa 1930s

turns into Arcade Fire

My Little Pony

turns into Prince

JFK

turns into Jon Stewart

Do you see the similarities?

Listen to the evolution of the Hot IQs songs on their myspace page. Start with Firecracker and work your way down to Retromuff.

**Editor’s note — Our guest blogs are written by people involved in the Denver music scene, whether it’s being a musician or just supporting our musicians in some way. This week’s guest is a very good friend of Wayward Panties who happens to love all music, even though she has a hard time remembering certain aspects of it.

I like sounds. I like the way rain sounds when it’s hurtling towards glass windows. I like the way speed skates sound when they are taking a sharp turn at top velocity. But most of all, I like the sound of organized sound: Music.

I’m the anti-hipster. I enjoy all music and I’m not very picky as long as it’s in tune and no one is yell-singing. I don’t like yell-singing. With such an open mind, you might think that my iTunes overfloweth with albums but unfortunately, this is not so. I have so little music that I can fit nearly my entire collection on my iPod mini (anybody remember the mini? From 17 years ago? Mine still works).

I have been friends with the lovely Tiffany for several years now and she has opened my eyes to the Denver music scene, which I have really begun to enjoy. I’ve even been lucky enough to see a few bands more than once and experience their music evolve.

The problem is I seem to have limited space in my mind for all the bands that I’ve heard. Whereas some people can remember the names of all the bands they’ve seen or heard this year, I can remember the names of all of the Autobots. A misallocation of talent, I know. What does remain in my mind are the bands I listened to in college about 6-7 years ago, when my musical vocabulary was slightly less limited.

This gives me distinct disadvantage at parties when bands like, um, that one band I saw play last week that had the cool violin player and, umm the other one with the lead singer whose voice sounded like warm honey, start blaring through speakers. I look around at all of my cool musically knowledgeable friends talking about how much they love what so an so band did on their last EP. I feel tiny and silly for not knowing who they are talking about and chances are I just heard them last month. And what the hell is an EP?

I think my lack of music knowledge is actually a good thing. It allows me to really listen to the music without over thinking the stuff behind the scenes such as instruments, technical ability and comparable bands. I can like the music for exactly what it is: really great organized sound.

My point is, just because I don’t remember the name of the band or the song does not mean I enjoy music any less than someone with a music library more extensive than an actual record store. In my opinion, music is to be enjoyed and felt and I think anyone can do that.

So, if you happen to be around me when one of Denver’s many great bands starts playing on someone’s stereo and I begin rocking out, but then turn to you and ask, “Hey, who sings this?” please try not to roll your eyes when you patiently remind me who the artist is. And when I compare them to a slightly less dark Depeche Mode with less synth, just smile and nod your head.

Kelly Yaker
Kelly’s myspace blog

**Editor’s note — Our guest blogs are written by people involved in the Denver music scene, whether it’s being a musician or just supporting our musicians in some way. This week’s guest is a member of the well-loved local collective Everything Absent or Distorted.

When I learned that Tiffany and Cassie of Wayward Panties were elite members of the dreaded bike gang The Patsy Leotards, I couldn’t help but lapse into fantasies of the ensuing turf wars between the Patsy Leotards and my own bike posse, Critical Dumbass.

As a measurable balance to the dreamy violent images of be-wigged women swinging maces and baseball bats at the advancing army of motley dumbasses brandishing switchblades and dripping pomade, I also envisioned a compendium of various bike factions that would join on the streets and cruise collectively as the sun set over the beautiful Rocky Mountains and the legion whistled along to the sweet sounds of summer as gentle breezes played at our expensive haircuts.

In my mind, I had to soundtrack these two disparate fantasies, and as a result I offer up the following playlist as an A side/B side set with the music chosen very specifically for drunken, cocaine-fueled bicycle knife fights and lazy, romantic pedals through the majestic parks of Denver:

A Side: Presta

Pere Ubu – “Heart of Darkness” – Listen to this song on your way to a bike gang rumble. Make sure to choose your weapon wisely. Will you swing a length of chain? Will you truncate skulls with a lead pipe? Switchblade to kidneys? Louisville Slugger? Disaffection never sounded so good.

Metallica – “Motorbreath” – Choke on exhaust. Cough up the dust of the industrial age that is collecting in your lungs, swing your u-lock in menacing arcs as you and your gang stand in formation across from your rivals in an abandoned parking garage.

Mclusky – “To Hell with Good Intentions” – With the boastful lyrics of Andy Falkous coursing through your mind, you’ll be ready to rumble indeed, shouting “my love is bigger than your love” into the shrieking faces of your bicycle nemesis.

Bikini Kill – “Star Bellied Boy” – Funnel the sexual frustration and rage that Kathleen Hanna spews on this track into your ability to pull off powerful roundhouse kicks and eye-gouging.

The Volts – “Ballbreaker” – J.R, the lead singer of long defunct The Volts, is a Denver rock legend. I wouldn’t dream of stabbing somebody in the face with a bicycle spoke without studying some of his spasmodic stage writhing. Better than a Kung-Fu class.

Nirvana – “Tourettes” – One and a half minutes of knuckle crunching, bottom bracket breaking vitriol. Quite a climax to a bike brawl.

The Deviants – “I’m Coming Home” – Psychedelic bliss that will guide you home in victory or defeat with all of the vim and vigor of a good ass beating stirring up your stomach.

Side B: Schraeder

Soapy Argyle – “I Ride My Bike in the Snow” – Denver’s Greg Hill, a man without a sense of smell or an untalented bone in his body, offers up this gem of a sing-along that is as appropriate a declaration in summer as it is when you are pedaling though a blizzard.

Sam Prekop – “Showrooms” – Whenever you’re feeling like a romantic jaunt, Prekop presents the perfect balance of indie rock and 70’s smooth jazz to keep your flip flops rotating on your pedals in gentle circles, keeping time with the song as your Garbage Pail Kids card flaps against your spokes.

Silver Jews – “Smith and Jones Forever” – This song has nothing to do with anything but has the lyric: “Grass, rabbits, grass, rabbits, grass, rabbits, grass, rabbits, grass.” That lyric rests on a bicycle ride like a scoop of ice cream on a piece of strawberry-rhubarb pie.

Van Morrison – “Astral Weeks” – Aside from being the sole subject of the pocketbook that should be printed for awkward teenagers entitled “How to Love”, this song is the perfect accompaniment to gazing skyward without cares as you coast down Capitol Hill surrounded by your favorite bikers.

Sleater-Kinney – “Modern love” – Man or woman, young or old, try riding around your neighborhood singing this song at full volume and you’ll finally clear your arteries, those pipelines that run straight into your heart, of any blockages caused by being such a cynical prick.

Stereolab – “Come and Play in the Milky Night” – All of the ethereal planets are spinning above you and you are a speck of dust, momentarily filled with the blissful swell of life as your lungs expand and contract under the boughs of giant maple trees swaying in the breeze.

Malajube – “Étienne Dáout” – Because beautiful songs sung in French and being beautiful on your bike go hand-in-hand, and anybody who wants to argue with me about it can see me after I’ve listened to Side A of this wee mix.

The National – “Fake Empire” – See lyrics below. We are the dreamers dreaming. Enjoy your bicycles, lovers!

Stay out super late tonight picking apples, making pies
put a little something in our lemonade and take it with us
we’re half-awake in a fake empire
we’re half-awake in a fake empire

Turn the light out say goodnight
no thinking for a little while
lets not try to figure out everything it wants
It’s hard to keep track of you falling through the sky
we’re half-awake in a fake empire
we’re half-awake in a fake empire

**Listen here and see why E.A.O.D. is one of Wayward Panties’ biggest crushes: Everything Absent or Distorted.

As his fans pointed out, and I forgot to mention, Robert Rutherford is indeed one of the foxy foursome in Rabbit is a Sphere, too. Listen to them here: Rabbit is a Sphere

**Editor’s note — Our guest blogs are written by people involved in the Denver music scene, whether it’s being a musician or just supporting our musicians in some way. This week’s guest is the bassist for the local progressive/experimental rock band I Sank Molly Brown.

As the bassist in a local band I’ve heard that line again and again. At that point, I’m packing up my gear in front of the members of the next band on the bill, who are chomping at the bit to get their equipment loaded as they meditate the butterflies away and think “three phrases, then two, then the verse again” to themselves.

I’m usually not looking at the person who said it, so I have to look up into the lights and yell something like “Huh?” because I was thinking something along the lines of “I thought it was three phrases, then two, then the verse again…” in my head with a highlight reel of the previous half hour spinning through my mind.

About half way through the person yelling, “I said, You Guys Rocked!” I register what was said the first time and smile and say something sharp like “Thanks!” I then find out that he’s the drummer from the band that played before us and he’s interested in doing a show with us sometime. Alas, that’s probably not going to happen, I already know.

It’s not going to happen because there are only a few people here on a Saturday night, and they usually fit into three categories: other band members, their friends, and our friends. He’s not going to remember my name, I’ve already forgotten his, and we’ll get more shows like these because the venue needs to fill slots for someone and will call one or the other of us depending on who they think will fit best.

Our friends will go out to dinner with us later and we’ll have a good time, but we’ll also talk about how we could have gotten more people to come out on a Saturday night because that place was dead.

Then I start thinking to myself, y’know that was really fun being up there. The selfish side of me wants to be written up, positively I hope, in some sort of publication and wants the recognition. Way better than all of that, though, is being up on stage and banging the hell out of my bass in lockstep with our drummer while the guitars cut out for a bit and the vocals kick in. There’s nothing like a good bass and drum verse, I daresay.

As I click back into the conversation, my band-mates and I re-hash the night, talking about how we think we did and what we liked about the other bands. My brother mentions something about the guitar player in one of the bands, and I remember the one he’s talking about. I went up to him and said something like, “You guys rocked!”

Ryan Self
Listen to his band here: I Sank Molly Brown

**Editor’s note - Our guest blogs are written by people involved in the Denver music scene, whether it’s being a musician or just supporting our musicians in some way. The week’s guest blog coincides with what Wayward Panties’ Cassie had to say about our beloved music scene a couple of days ago.

It’s an exciting time for our city. Morning After Records has evolved to see The Photo Atlas go on tour with The Bravery and Mooney Suzuki, among others. Likewise, Born in the Flood and Nathan and Stephen are poised to make their mark outside of Denver. Devotchka has entered into American pop culture by scoring Little Miss Sunshine. Munly is so bold that he even convinced Captain Picard to join him on stage and have a conniption fit during a performance in NYC. The Fray have…well…exploded; hell, Isaac Slade may even inherit an English estate worth more than $10 million, not to mention the fact that they received two Grammy nominations.

Denver is definitely on the edge something special, but we should be careful not to conform to an archetype based on National examples. I recall seeing a ‘tag’ on Google Earth that someone had posted regarding the Hi-Dive. It said, “This place was so ‘cool’ I almost threw up. Definitely a scene of some sort, just not mine.” From a certain perspective, what constitutes a ‘scene’ for one person may not, in fact, represent anything beyond a stereotype for the next participant. Our little niche of the indie scene is thriving, now more than ever before, and even though we should learn from the experiences found across America, our bands and ‘scenesters’ should keep true to their roots.

What we really want is for Denver’s relative unknowns to have their shot at contributing to our National identity. Bands like George and Caplin, Cowboy Curse, Januar, Orwellian Math Project, Bela Karoli, Pee Pee, etc. all stand ready to invade late night television like Dressy Bessy. The support system of record labels, recording studios, manufacturers, publicists, journalists and, most importantly, fanatics are in place to nurture us all while we slowly get educated and get the courage (and money) to go on tour, pay for a radio campaign and write letters to Rolling Stone in crayon asking them to review an album.

Like any city of Denver’s size, or larger, we have our variety. What I find to be most intriguing is that, despite genre, all the bands in Denver’s little Indie scene play well with other children. From Munly’s Alt-Country Goth to the Hot IQs Indie Pop, it makes sense that it all comes from Denver. While some see Denver’s assortment as an identity crisis, I see it as cathexis. Our scene is exciting because we are heterogeneous and our ethos toward music reflects that.

Let’s continue to help our “Cow Town” evolve into something special. From Seattle to NY, other cities have developed their artists and support systems into rockstars and taste-makers. We can do the same and keep it distinctly “Moo” enough so that nobody thinks the Denver Gentlemen sound like they’re from Austin. Instead, we’ll represent an ethos stipulating that how we think of music is paramount to what we think of music. Others have worn that badge well; we can only hope Denver’s scene can play it well too.

Andy Tennant
Cat-A-Tac
7 and ½ Recording Studio
Needlepoint Records