Brian Kruse--he's amazing! See, the guy can juggle no fewer
than six projects: a 'zine, a band, a record label, another
band, booking shows, a hip-hop band...and still run into
you at shows wearing the biggest smile.
This Portland native's knack for the multi-task dance seems
to have rubbed off on everyone else in a city where everyone
has a "project" or two going. So to further the inspiration
of Brian's fellow citizens, we elaborate on each of his
many incarnations. Mix and match these fun cut-out shapes!
Beulahland
Brian Kruse has organized some of the best free shows of
the year at this under-indie squat palace (118 NE 28th Ave.,
235-2794). The Planet The, Rong Button,
31 Knots, Papillon and the Kung-Fus have all braved the
sweatbox, playing for nothing but love. But alas, Kruse
has booked the last of Beulahland's shows for mid-July,
saying "the support for these shows has dwindled over the
past few months." Kruse goes on to warn, "If the people
want the music to go away, it will go away." Part of the
joint's appeal (and downfall) is its damn-near secrecy.
"It's either the fear of networking or just wanting to preserve
the underground feel to the place," Kruse says. "A show
is just more special when you hear of it through word-of-mouth,
y'know?" Word, then: Go to the shows; tell 'em you want
more shows. Save Beulahland, people!
The Buttery Lords
"The word on the street is that The Buttery Lords are one
of the most popular hip-hop bands in Portland," claims Kruse.
This is hype, of course, but with only a handful of shows
on their résumé, the B-Lords are developing
a rep. "It's madness when three MCs (Baby Powder French,
Dr. Marble, The Rev.Hubbard) give each other black eyes
while dancing, then jump in the air and land flat on their
backs while rapping," says Kruse. "I'm usually pretty sore
for a week or two." It's the return of the B-boy, but this
time the "B" stands for "Butter."
So Sadly Fucked/Airport Dreams
Kruse laments the hardships that artists and/or musicians
face to simply live--namely working a j-o-b--in his rock
band proper, So Sadly Fucked. "At the same time that you're
feeling gypped out of your precious time, punching someone
else's clock, you can sometimes not feel sad about it, y'know.
Pop music can help you realize where you're at and be happy
with it, for me anyway." So Sadly Fucked's first full-length
is sitting pretty at the record plant at press time and
is expected out on Kruse's own Circle Five Records
by late July.
The Talking Grapefruit
& The Kumquat Kid
Andy Kaufman's creation of his own arch-nemesis, Tony
Clifton, gave him a new palette to work on: the media. So
it goes when Kruse takes the stage as The Talking Grapefruit
in big yellow shades, donning a yellow spray-painted helmet
and a yellow bathrobe. "We're essentially alter egos of
The Buttery Lords whose bodies are invaded by the spirits
of aliens who don't believe The Buttery Lords should be
popular. Their mission is to tell people to stay away from
The Buttery Lords."
Mayhem, we tell you.
Stop Starting Bands
On a tired old wire newspaper rack on the south wall of
Beulahland, you will find Stop Starting Bands. The
'zine deems itself an instructional pamphlet on how to weigh
the indie scene against popular culture. Kruse's notes are
often stream-of-consciousness, probing rarely seen corners.
The new issue (#7) relays a touching scene outside the Rose
Garden near Alanis Morissette's bus, introduces musical
discoveries (the incredible Piano Magic, for one) and lists
upcoming Beulahland shows. Disguised in there somewhere
is the catalog for Kruse's record label, Circle Five. "It
started out really as a method of self-promotion," he says.
"If I could write a dozen or two pages on other people,
then I could write about myself and not feel too bad about
it."
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