Saturday, December 5th * 6PM ’til LATE
THE SKINNY DIP @ KITCHEN 305
A Concert To Benefit Melanoma Research and Awareness
In Honor of Linda K. Snyder
…dipping into our wallets to save some skin!

Hosted by Shawn Snyder
MC’d by Channel 10’s Will Manso

A Multi-Bill Concert Featuring:

The U-School Testostertones
Uncle Scotchy
Cat Shell
Big Poppa E and the E Band
Arboles Libres
Michael Shivers
Shauna Sweeney
Shawn Snyder
The Big Bounce
Lanzallamas Monofonica

Live Music ’til 11PM!

VIP Celebrity After Party Follows!

$10 Suggested Donation At The Door!

Raffle and Silent Auction Throughout The Night!

Proceeds to Benefit:

The Melanoma Research Foundation (www.melanoma.org)
AND
The Richard David Kann Melanoma Foundation (www.melanomafoundation.com)

Officail Website: www.THESKINNYDIP.org

The Story:

One year ago, my mom, Linda Snyder, passed away from StageIV Melanoma at just shy of sixty years old. What started as a mole on her thigh ended up, three years later, metastasized in her brain. It’s surreal, to say the least, and still, at times, altogether inconceivable.

Beyond the essential fundraising facets of The Skinny Dip, the effort to increase awareness is of utmost priority.

The Susan G. Komen Foundation and the Pink Movement, at large, have done an incredible and admirable job at branding and marketing Breast Cancer Research and Awareness. Melanoma, on the other hand, nobody
seems to want to talk about, despite having the fastest growing incidence rate of all cancers – it’s stuck with a Black Ribbon, a starkness that speaks on multiple levels. When caught in advanced stages, it can be one of the most unpredictable and hardest cancers to fight, and brings with its diagnosis some of the grimmest numbers and devastating outcomes. And yet, it happens to be one of the easier cancers to prevent and to detect and has one of the highest survival rates when discovered and treated early. Sun caution and skin care, frequent visits to the dermatologist and full-body checks, are usually all it takes to stay vigilant.

Living in South Florida, where sun-worship is religion and dermatology often caters to vanity more than prevention, we’re hoping to take some cues from Komen, adding some edge and some trend to an otherwise stiff, rather uncomfortable, and often taboo topic, to try to make even a small dent in the way of public consciousness and precaution.

Please Join Us!

You can read the article and find out who else Metromix named as the “Best of 2009 Entertainment” here: http://southflorida.metromix.com/music/essay_photo_gallery/best-of-2009-entertainment/1599381/content

Some People’s Children

Back in the late 1980s there was a South Florida band that delved into electronic music. Four guys playing post-New Wave tunes grown in a suburban garage. They played clubs, they were on local radio and like many bands, they fell short of making it.

But Some People’s children was a unique band with a unique sound, and amazingly, their material has been preserved incredobly well. The sounds of old analog synths married to digital samplers, drum machines coughing up latin beats and Dolby-esque soundscapes have been preserved perfectly for nearly 20 years. And while the band members have gone on to live regular, dare we say “normal” lives, the sound that they created in the late 1980s is now finally being released to the world the way they intended 20 years ago.

Some People’s Children played their final live concert in December of 1989 at The Reunion Room in Ft. Lauderdale. To commemorate that event, Wild Iris Records is releasing the Some People’s Children recordings to the world in both CD and downloadable formats. Entitled “Toybox 1987-1989″, this release contains 5 pristine recordings from back in the days of hairspray and eyeliner, remastered and ready for your ears. The CD itself is packaged as it would have been back in 1989 with thank yous and shoutouts to people who made it all possible. If you were around back then, you’ll want this timecapsule.

Visit the Wild Iris records Store to pick up or download you copy today!

TRACKS (click for samples):

Take A Look At My World
Dot 2 Dot
Via Satellite
Andes Dust
Beyond The Frontier

September 18 , 2009 –

On April 17, 2009, Shawn Snyder, George Zhen and Tom Gress embarked on a night of furious music making within the caffeinated confines of The Moose, and the results are now available to the world in the form of a live release entitled Shawn Snyder – Strip Mall Troubadour (Live at The Moose), which hits the streets on September 25, 2009. The songs included in this offering span both of Shawn’s previous studio releases, Romantic’s Requiem and Dog Eared Pages.

This album showcases Shawn and his friends in a raw live “bootleg” form. There is stage banter, coffe machines whirring and other moments of beautiful chaos happening on and off stage. Like all of Shawn Snyder’s releases, it is honest and spellbinding.

You can get your copy at our Online Store, or come out and see Shawn perform LIVE at the Stripmall Troubadour release party, Friday, September 25, 2009 at Stage 84 in Ft, Lauderdale, FL (what used to be the Chocolate Moose, under new ownership).

ALBUM TITLE:
Shawn Snyder – Strip Mall Troubadour, Live at The Chocolate Moose

RELEASE DATE:
September 25, 2009

LABEL:
Wild Iris Records

WEB:
www.WildIrisRecords.com
www.ShawnSnyderMusic.com
www.MySpace.com/shawnsnydermusic

EMAIL:
info@wildirisrecords.com

You can also follow us on Twitter @wildirisrecords

Meantime, take a moment to explore our new digs. Pick up something and help support original independent music today!

“That sounds nice,” I venture, worried that I may somehow flip a switch on this wisp of a man/boy and that he would lash out at my rudeness.

“You think? I’m just fucking about here a bit,” he replied in nearly a whisper. His accent seemed a bit odd at first, as if at some point he had tried to adapt to a local flavor and failed. He flicked his ash onto the floor, stood up and stuck out his left hand.

“Gabriel Spitfire at your service,” he said in an almost humorous way. But he wasn’t joking. What a name! He had to be kidding.

“You mean, like the airplane or the car,” I inquired?

“Yup, those’ll be my namesakes. I should sue them both,” he replied dryly.

After a short bit of small talk, I left the gear room we were in and headed in the general direction of the main studio. I was called in to play a session in this studio purely as a keyboard player on a dance track, or so I was told. But, something was wrong here. It happened that the studio was in something of a snafu as the previous act was still running around putting the finishing touches on their recordings. It didn’t take me too long to realize that this young guitar player I had just met, this Gabriel Spitfire, was a part of this said band, and his “fucking about” was a part of the problem.

Looking at my watch and concerned about the time and prospects of my session actually happening, I casually ventured into the control room of the studio. Oh brother, were there troubles there. The producer and the engineer were up in arms about someone in this ban I was waiting on. He was apparently not cooperative, wasted on pot half the time and “so bloody stubborn about his creative shit” as the engineer so eloquently put it. And now he had wandered off to fix a minor part and no one had any idea where he was.

They of course could be talking about no one other than my new guitar-playing friend.

I was about to offer that I had recently seen Gabriel in the gear room when in walked the man himself, a pair of sunglasses now perched at the end of his slender nose, a blue tele over his shoulder and a finger pointing at the wall.

“I’m going to cut my guitar part again. Please darken the room. All the way.”

The engineer and producer, hands on hips, were silent with mouths wide.

“Sure your bloody fucking highness,” mumbled one of them as the room went dark.

What i proceeded to hear was a gem of a guitar track. Oh, it wasn’t technically perfect. In fact, it sometimes sounded like a drunk falling from a bar stool. But it was brash, filled with attitude and sonic as all hell. Imperfect perfection. In the glow of blinking LEDs, you could even see a faint satisfied look come over the producer as Spitfire finished his solo, as if in some way this made up for all of the trials, tribulations and gray hairs.

As the track finished, and the guitar faded to a hum, I realized that no matter what happened to my session that night, I had born witness to something interesting and special. Gabriel Spitfire was one of those shadow gifts from beyond, unexplainable and bi-polar as hell. I couldn’t wait to hear more.

I was ready to exit the control room and head off to find the studio’s owner when the lights to the studio were brought up.

“What the bloody hell,” someone exclaimed from the booth? “Where’s he now?”

And there in the studio was a chair with a blue Fender Telecaster on it, still plugged into the amp and starting to feed back a bit. And just like that, Gabriel Spitfire was gone.