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THE CHURCH
OF ST. DONNY
OF SIESTA:
THEPIZAZZHOMEPAGE
Do you remember when Indians captured the land? Or the mystery of the two legends? Remember when things were done in eights? Well, here at Pizazz Palace these things are still alive and well. It's run by a trio of hucksters known as Pizazz. Four albums deep in the "hag"-mire of their hometown, Pizazz is full of ginseng tea and blueberry donuts and loungin' and 'laxin' even now as Circus magazine is putting their 15-page article to press.
But who is Pizazz? Shame on you. Even
though they are shrouded in mystery, dwelling in the basement of Pizazz Palace,
making their own food and paper, you just should know. Everyone else does (it's
Jim from the Feebs,
Mike from The
Throats, and another
member.) But I guess you don't. Well, there you go.
Originally a duo, they burst onto the
"scene" in the brutal winter of '96. Recorded in two ordinary days in
January, I Like to See My
Friends on the Outside, But I Hate to Leave My Friends on the Inside is a little piece of magic. Declared an
instant classic, or Insta-Class'c, their first album still excites its
listeners today.
Recorded in the damp windy autumn of 96, Stepper, their third album, but really, their
first, reintroduced the former duo as a trio with the addition of the drummer. Stepper, helped along by soft rock's favorite nephew, Jim B.,
immediately became the band's new watermark, as opposed to the old one, which
was usually down the front of Mike's shirt. With this album, they seemed to be
announcing to the world, "Step Into This!" But the world stepped
elsewhere.
And Pizazz fell silent. And asleep. I can
guarantee that.
And then? Yes, what? In early March 1998,
the familiar, yet unique, the uniquely original familiar sound of Pizazz
drifted up the basement stairs of Little Ease Studios. The chords were typical,
C’s and Am’s, but in a different order of expulsion, and the drums were
tighter, EVEN MORE HYPNOTIC. Pizazz was discovering “its sound.” Too bad it was
a sound whose appeal does not extend beyond a one-block radius. Downstairs,
Pizazz was building the body of Francis,
their 18-song folkrockindiepop masterpiece. With nods to Brain Wilson, Halo
Benders, Carol King and Ass Ponys, you’d think it would‘ve sucked. Au contraire,
Martin Guerre, they’d returned.
But where does one go upon reaching the
top? Well, if you were a grade school Beatle fan like me you’d know one goes to
the very top, or the toppermost of the tippy-top or something, I don’t really
remember, it was a long time ago. Wherever it one goes beyond the top, Pizazz
went there with their next album. Originally conceived to be a double-album
concept album, like Paradise Theatre or Dancing On the Ceiling, St. Donny excluded all the padding and filler
that would have placed it in the pantheon of the above-mentioned opuses (opi?).
The result? A hauntingly magnetic opera of sorts. Pizazz was maturing, just
like those duck eggs (and the baby ducks) Mrs. Lynn had us bring home in the
third grade. In fact, it’s a LOT like that.
And Pizazz fell silent. And asleep. I can
guarantee that.
But they woke up long enough in one
wintry day in 1999 to record the e.p. Snow Day.
The whole band, you see, was off from work that day because of snow. Isn’t that
great? And aren’t we lucky?
Anything else from Pizazz? There is of
course the myth of the Unretrievable Songs, lost, legend has it, in the silvery
silent grooves of an unreadable CD-R. No more is known.
All material herein ©1998-2001 Pizazz/Big Casserole
Records/Maxrat. All rights reserved.