2B — Thursday, November 5, 2015
the b-side
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
My whiskers are melting off
my face from sweat. I am a last
minute, Rite Aid-eared cat, and
any bit of feline allure I once had
has flown out the window by this
point. As I’m squeezing my way
past Alex from “A Clockwork
Orange,” Tom Cruise from “Top
Gun” and a disarmingly good
Edward Scissorhands, I can’t
stifle the thought that I look
a little basic. This is, after all,
the Blind Pig’s Halloween Band
Masquerade — an event built on
the power of the costume. But all
great concerts bring salvation.
This one is the perfect amount
of dark: the stage, or whoever’s
being resurrected on it, is the
solely lit star of the show on this
chilly Devil’s Night. I can hear
the next band setting up while I
stumble downstairs to the 8 Ball
Saloon to use the little-kitties
room. Rage Against the Machine
is coming.
***
The bar looked a lot calmer
in broad daylight some two days
earlier, when I sat down — sans
whiskers — with manager Jef
Porkins to chat about all things
spooky and musical. In the 15
years he has been working at
the Blind Pig and adjacent 8 Ball
Saloon, the Halloween Band
Masquerade has been around for
eight. The concert’s structure is
pretty typical: gussied-up people
saunter in around 9:20 p.m.,
grab a drink and listen to diverse
sets brought about by some great
local bands. What’s so spooky
about that? Well, there’s the
fact that all the bands are in full
costume, boasting their best
impersonations of musical icons
and replicating those pioneers’
most adored songs.
“There was a band called
Shellac in Chicago,” Porkins
said, beginning the origin story.
“They’re fronted by Steve Albini,
who’s probably the most famous
of the three of them. And they
did a set as the Sex Pistols for
Halloween once. I’ve heard it;
it sounded terrible, but it was
really funny. I thought it’d be
funny to do shows like that,
and just dress up as a band that
nobody could see anymore and
not be able to repeat it.
To put that thought into
motion, Porkins formed a band
co-op called Arboco, in which
roughly 12 local bands started
to book shows together, pool the
money earned from those shows
and set it toward making each
other’s records. The Halloween
Band Masquerade is Arboco’s
most successful (and now only)
spawn.
“We did more shows, just like
regular shows throughout the
year. But this one became such
a big show, and we were able to
get so much money from it, that
we were like, ‘Let’s just do that,’
” Porkins said. “We have three
more records to put out, but we
only have money for two, so this
year would be the last year we
would have to do (the money
pool). Then after that, if we keep
doing it then we’d just split the
money like a normal show.”
Porkins’s band, Scissor Now!,
is a member of Arboco and one
of the five performers set to jam
at the event this year — as Led
Zeppelin. The bands get to pick
who they want to be, which is
always a lengthy, deliberative
process.
“Every single year, we’re
loading up (after the show), and
we’re like, ‘Next year, I want
to be this.’ We came up with
Zeppelin really early, I think in
like February. I was screwing
around, playing ‘Dazed and
Confused’ on the bass, and the
drummer just started playing
it, and she (lead singer Jessica
Bratus)
started
singing
it,”
Porkins said. “And then we
listened to it, and we learned
the other parts and we played
it, and then I was like, ‘Do you
guys want to be Led Zeppelin?’ I
had no idea they were gonna say
yes.”
Since Porkins is a bass player,
I cheekily asked him how he’s
going to pull off the non-descript
charm of Zeppelin bassist John
Paul Jones.
“We don’t have a guitar
player, so I’m splitting the signal
from my bass and making it
sound like a guitar, as well. And
I’m gonna wear a Jimmy John’s
uniform,” Porkins paused to
laugh, “because it’s Jimmy Page
and John Paul Jones.”
Porkins values the way the
Halloween Band Masquerade
has challenged him over the
years,
pushing
his
musical
boundaries by forcing his band
to emulate artists to a T.
“To listen to all of those,
and learn all these songs that
I’ve always wanted to play
and
understand
them
more
intimately, I think I’ve grown
as a bass player — playing like
Black Flag. I was in a band called
Suicide by Cop and we did Black
Flag the second year. And I just
decided I wasn’t gonna be a
slouch and I’d actually learn how
to play like these very technical
bass lines — for a punk band, at
least. And it went really well.”
One
of
the
unifying
characteristics of the concert
series is that bands are never
replicated: once Led Zeppelin
has played the Blind Pig, it
can’t play again, so long as the
masquerade
continues.
Why
is this an impenetrable rule?
Porkins laughed again.
“I think everybody would do
The Misfits every year,” he said.
“The other rule was that you
can’t do a band that somebody
could just go see right now
anyway. But that’s kind of fallen
by the wayside, as well, because
Motorhead is still around —
somebody did Motorhead. Daft
Punk’s still around, and we did
that. But I mean, if you’re gonna
present it well and be good at it,
why not?”
This year’s lineup is completed
with Counter Crosby as Pink
Floyd,
Volcano
Worshippers
Hour as Rage Against the
Machine, Cyrano Jones as The
Kinks and JUNGLEFOWL as
Björk. Porkins mused on the
plight of artists who perform
covers.
“That’s the one thing about
this band (Led Zeppelin). The
other bands, we try to do it
straight, like they did on the
record, things like that. For this
one, we pretty much just have to
make it our own. That’s what we
do when we do covers, anyway.
We change them a lot. Either
you change them and make them
your own, or you nail it.”
***
When
Friday
night
approached, I began to realize
how badly everyone wanted
to nail it as I waltzed into the
historic venue, cat ears just shy
of “on fleek.” I stopped a woman
wearing skin-tight bellbottoms
— with a faux protrusion in the
groin area — in the lobby. It
turned out to be Jessica Bratus,
the lead singer of Scissor Now!
I complimented her on the
accuracy of her below-the-belt
Robert Plant simulation, and
she smiled and pulled out the
empty water bottle responsible
for it. A local small business
owner,
Bratus
relishes
the
ability to mimic the looks and
moves of legends on stage every
year.
“At this show, I have so much
respect for the levels that the
bands take it to. People are
really professional about the
band that they’re covering, so I
think that the best part of this is
watching other people,” Bratus
said. “Also, for me personally,
it’s taking on the role of who I’m
performing as. I watch videos
— I watch dance videos, like
lots of performances, so I can
emulate the moves that they do
on stage. Robert Plant, he does
a lot of nifty little moves and a
lot of wrist-flicking, chest-out,
hips out, shoulders back.” We
snickered at the position she
had wiggled herself into. “It’s
really funny,” she said.
Then
Björk
walked
past
me, in swan dress and all.
Melissa Coppola, second-year
graduate student in the School
of Music and lead singer of
JUNGLEFOWL, was Björk.
“It’s nice to, like, get in
character
—
you
know
—
pretend I’m from Iceland,”
Coppola said. She had already
begun to adopt Björk’s staccato
mannerisms at that point — and
it only got better when she took
the stage.
JUNGLEFOWL opened with
“Earth Intruders,” which was
eerily on point. Coppola, or
Björk, would lower her body to
the floor in throws of passion,
shout out Icelandic-accented
sentiments to the audience.
Neon lights were rife as she
sang “Birthday,” a Sugarcubes
(Björk’s
first
band)
song,
which was one of the night’s
highlights.
The Kinks came out next
with their blue velvet jackets
and white doily collars. “Lola”
was the closer and the crowd
favorite, of course — the whole
audience was screaming to
“Now I’m not the world’s most
passionate guy … ” by the end.
Cyrano
Jones/The
Kinks
finished, and I realized my
whiskers were melting off.
***
When I assumed my place
after the bathroom, among
vampires
this
time,
Rage
Against
the
Machine
was
mulling about the tiny stage.
The lead singer of Volcano
Worshippers Hour had put on
a grandiose Zack de la Rocha
wig, crisp white shirt and black
armband. He was traipsing
around, aggression brewing and
building, until finally his band
dropped the opening chords to
“Bulls on Parade.”
The crowd erupted: moshing
started in the front, and we
couldn’t keep our bodies from
thrashing to the screams of
who we thought was the actual
de la Rocha for the majority of
the set. As far as we (the Tom
Cruises and the cats alike)
believed,
Rage
Against
the
Machine was in Ann Arbor —
and for one night only.
Finding the best tacos in Ann
Arbor can be hard. Not because
there aren’t great tacos around,
but the place where they’re
sold is so easy to miss. In an
especially
nondescript
strip
mall
on
an
especially
nondescript
section
of
Packard
road,
four
miles
from
central
campus,
sandwiched
in
between
a
barbershop
and
a
Middle
Eastern
market,
is
Tmaz
Taqueria.
A white cockatoo perches
outside, preening himself in
the hopes that a customer will
toss him a scrap of tortilla or a
nugget of chicharrón. Judging
by the serene silence of those
eating,
punctuated
only
by
an occasional moan or scrape
of fork against plate, it’s not
looking likely.
I have been to Tmaz many
times,
for
their
defiantly
spartan tacos — just two corn
tortillas,
filled
with
meat,
chopped
onion,
a
sprinkle
of cilantro, with some lime
wedges and hot sauce on the
side. But today, I arrive hungry
for answers. Most pressing: how
did this amazing little place end
up in Ann Arbor, Michigan?
The interior of Tmaz is
expansive and brightly lit. It
used to occupy just the narrow
space next door, which now
contains the open kitchen and a
few tables. In May, it expanded
to include the former grocery
store next door, where a long
curving counter and ice cream
cooler share space with more
tables and banks of shelves
containing Mexican sweets and
dry goods. A faint echo of Latin
pop drifts out of the kitchen.
Cesar
Hervert,
chef
and
owner,
emerges
from
the
kitchen to greet me. We can’t
shake hands just yet, because
he was just elbow-deep in a
mixture of flour and shortening,
kneading dough for pastries.
He excuses himself to wash his
hands, and we then sit together
at a spare table. Hervert, a short
man with a three-day stubble
and an easy smile, recounts
the long, sometimes arduous
journey he and his family have
taken to achieve their present
success.
Hervert
was
born
in
Veracruz, Mexico, on the Gulf
Coast. His father, who owned
and managed restaurants, made
his son mop the floors and wash
dishes after school.
“I hated it,” he chuckles. “At
that age, I was like ‘I don’t want
to do this.’ So when I grew up, I
decided to teach.”
After high school, he found
work as a middle-school math
teacher and started a family. By
age 24, he had a wife, Anna, and
two sons, Josue and Kevin. But
economic prospects in Mexico
were limited.
“Raising two kids, at a young
age, I decided to find a better
way to raise them,” he says.
He heard that the increasing
Latino
population
around
Detroit
needed
Spanish-
speaking teachers. He moved
his family over 1,500 miles
north, to Ann Arbor, only to
find that getting certified as a
teacher required thousands of
dollars and endless struggles
with bureaucracy. To make
ends meet, he did what he knew
how to do.
“Having a family, raising two
little kids, getting into college
… it’s impossible without a lot
of money and support,” he says.
“That’s why I decided to stay in
kitchens.”
For years, Hervert worked
in restaurants all around Ann
Arbor, starting as a dishwasher,
then prep cook, then line cook.
His former animosity towards
the restaurant industry evolved
into a genuine passion. His
family was settled, his kids were
in school. But he wanted his
own restaurant, and he knew a
niche that could be filled.
“I
was
looking
for
real
Mexican food,” he says. “And
that’s why we opened this
place.”
A small space in a small strip
mall was available. Hervert
and his wife signed the lease.
They christened the restaurant
Tmaz, after Anna’s hometown
of Temascalcingo, near Mexico
City. They drew up a simple
menu. They had no idea what to
expect.
“We thought, ‘Let’s just open
something and see if it works,’”
he said. “In the beginning, it
was just friends, and we had
two tables. And it kept growing
and growing.”
That was four years ago.
Now, they’re a local institution,
beloved
by
everyone
from
fellow Mexicans to University
students to workers on lunch-
break.
“I have Muslim customers
who don’t eat pork, Indian
customers who don’t eat meat,
Latinos,
Asians,
everyone
comes
here,”
Hervert
said,
beaming with pride.
In addition to the food tasting
good, Hervert wants Tmaz to
be an educational experience.
In the United States, where
more salsa is sold than ketchup,
and where Chipotle is becoming
more popular than McDonalds,
many Americans still have no
idea that what we think of as
“Mexican” food is really Tex-
Mex.
“People come looking for
hard shells,” he says. “We don’t
have hard shells. People come
looking for nachos or burritos
— I don’t have anything against
them, but I grew up in Mexico,
and I had no idea what a burrito
was. I saw Speedy Gonzales
grabbing a burrito, and had no
idea what he was doing.”
At Tmaz, what you’ll find
instead
are
those
simple,
splendid
tacos,
bowls
of
menudo (tripe soup), tortas and
hibiscus-flavored agua fresca.
When an order for guacamole
enters the kitchen, the cook
starts by peeling an avocado.
A few non-Mexican items,
like pupusas and churrasco,
dot the menu — nods to the
local Latino community, many
of whom hail from Guatemala,
El Salvador and Honduras, and
for whom Tmaz has become
more than a restaurant. The ice
cream and fruit pops are made
by a Mexican family in Kalam-
azoo who are trying to start
their own business. An office
in the former grocery store
allows many immigrant work-
ers to send their paychecks back
home. And Hervert is slowly
filling in the shelves with ingre-
dients that can’t be found in
most grocery chains: tomatil-
los, cactus paddles, guava and
over a dozen types of chiles.
In addition to all of this,
the Hervert family still work
together at the restaurant. I
ask Hervert if he wants his
kids, now 20 and 16, to take
over the business.
“I don’t see why not,” he says.
“But of course, as a parent, you
want something better, you
know?”
Josue
is
an
unlikely
candidate — he wants to be
a lawyer. But Kevin loves
working in the kitchen, and
is applying to local culinary
schools.
His
father
wants
him to go beyond the family
restaurant.
“I tell him to go to different
places — California, New York,
Miami — and learn different
cuisines,” he says, radiant.
“Then, maybe he can go off to
Europe.”
Before I leave, I tuck into a
bowl of menudo. The nubbins
of tripe are tender, the sauce
is spicy but not too much.
The menudo has taken a long
journey to get here, but isn’t
tired at all.
Buonomo is preening himself
in the hopes that a customer
will toss him a scrap of a
tortilla. To help him out, e-mail
gbuonomo@umich.edu.
FOOD COLUMN
Behind the best tacos
in Ann Arbor
SINGLE REVIEW
A meaty guitar riff, a
breathy clearing of the
throat, a repetition of that
sultry
melody,
and so
begins
Grimes’
newest
single.
Immedi-
ately set-
ting itself apart from much
of the artist’s previous work,
“Scream” is an aggressive
conglomeration of sound. Fea-
turing Taiwanese rapper Aris-
tophanes on main vocals, the
tone of the track is arresting
and confusing. In comparison
to Grimes’ generally angelic,
falsetto tone of voice, Aris-
tophanes’ playfully taunting
delivery gives the track a more
alternative hip-hop feel.
The only thing that inter-
rupts Aristophanes surging
flow is the chorus, com-
prised of Grimes’ drawn
out screams and hissing,
animalistic panting by Aris-
tophanes. For those listeners
whose tongue differs from
that of the Taipei-based
rapper, the lack of concrete
lyrics leaves the message
entirely up to the tone of the
music. And it is obviously
one of power, intrigue and
great things to come from
Grimes.
- CARLY SNIDER
GIANCARLO
BUONOMO
My whiskers are
melting off
my face from
sweat.
A
Scream
Grimes
4AD
Herbert wants
Tmaz to be an
educational
experience.
Our ‘Mexican
food’ is Tex-Mex.
VIRGINIA LOZANO/Daily
Melissa Coppola of the band JUNGLEFLOW, performing as Bjork.
VIRGINIA LOZANO/Daily
Jessica Bratus from the band Scissor Now! performing as Led Zeppelin.
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