#prairiewolf

Bitchin Bajas / Prairiewolf - Glob, Denver, Colorado, October 13, 2025

Since we mentioned Bitchin Bajas in yesterday's Natural Information Society in Brooklyn post — how about we listen to the Bajas in Denver on the very same night! The Chicago trio was about to kick off a run of shows with the mighty Stereolab, and they warmed up for it at Glob ... and amazingly enough, Prairiewolf (that band I play bass in) opened up! A dream/honor/privilege, etc. Thank you to the Thundershout Presents crew and Glob! You are the real heroes.

You can relive the entire evening via recordings from the legendary Lance Stack, who outdid himself in terms of quality here. Seriously, give or take, a few coughs, the Bajas set could be released as a live album and no one would blink an eye.

Like NiS, Bitchin Bajas have a new album out this fall ... Inland See! The LP continues their unbroken winning streak of blissful kosmische effortlessly, capping off the proceedings with one of the band’s greatest works — the 18-minute odyssey known as “Graut.” (Pro tip: Track down the tour only disc Live! Graut?, too. Thank me later.) The Glob set also concludes with a massive "Graut," the perfect ending.

And what about the 'wolf?! Even though we didn't put out a record, 2025 may have been our busiest year ever. New stuff is very much in the works (and keep your eyes peeled for an interesting/cool collab coming soon), but in the meantime, our Archive.org page overflows with live action from the past several months. Oh and one thing you won't find there, but is very much worth your time — a live Prairiewolf jam with pedal steel maestro Luke Schneider from September, which is part of a free/awesome Centripetal Force comp. It is truly unhinged. No hinges!

The Battle of Evermore

Imagine pasting nonsensical references to a bare-chested manchild and his corpulently centaurian intentions into George Eliot's Middlemarch or painting that same dude as a hairy stick figure onto Botticelli's Rites of Spring.

Imagine freestyle rapping about penguins' priorities during a Prairewolf show. Imagine me and my tremendous bald spot photo bombing my goddess-like wife.

In other words, imagine being Robert Plant.

Sure, Page and Plant wrote today's sweet song in question: an odd-ball, mandolin-driven prequel to REM's Losing My Religion which relies upon Tolkien-driven imagery that any Nerd Club worth its salt will quickly take issue with. Um, excuse me, Mr. Plant sir? There seems to be an error within your belted lyrics. You see, when the Ringwraiths approach the castle city of Minas Tirith they do so on winged reptiles, not horses. Understood? Now, Forth Eorlingas!

Sure, Plant, Page, Bonhom and Whoever recorded everything for the song except the vocals before our stand-in for George Eliot, Botticelli, Prairewolf and my sainted wife - that would be Sandy Denny, of course - joined them in the studio to see what could be done with their so far mediocre track.

But show up she did. Let's revel for a moment in what Sandy helped Led Zeppelin accomplish.

Isn't the song fantastic? Plant fumes nicely and fondles his chest hair with at least a modicum of taste. Page churns away at a few dozen strings, summoning up a nice, ringing tone.

But it's Denny who holds the whole thing up, Atlas-like, upon her powerfully petite shoulders. Dance in the dark night, she commands us all at the get-go. Yes, ma'am! I was playing this thing really loud the other day and my 16 year old begged me to turn it the hell off: now that's a mark of greatness!

But then there's the song's last minute. Denny, after elevating everything to an entirely new and ethereal plane at the 3:20 mark - sing to the morning LIGHT - and after teaching Plant how to drone like a primordial being, was then seemingly ordered off stage altogether, leaving Plant room to scream, grunt and belch at us until it all finally ends.

Denny, lilliputian when beside him, surely shrugged about it all. So he wanted to scream about bringing it back, over and over again, without me, she thought. Big deal. .

But he just keeps... on... going... Bring it back, bring it back, bring it back. Bring it! Bring it!

Prairiewolf s/t LP - not that I've been looking, but this is the first album I've heard that I feel is the American equivalent of the very British electro-pastoralia purveyed by Clay Pipe Music 

I.  We used to run at each other in airports in crowds. When you left, it was as if all laughter died with you. When you left, Swingin’ Party played endlessly, hollowly. II. Permanence was always shaky for me. You were the first time I thought: “perhaps....perhaps this time I can stay.” But permanence is fantasy. Buildings you beg to call home will all crumble someday, and so will everyone you wish to bed down in. Permanence is a myth to keep us comfortable. III.  When you left for good, permanently, the emptiness clung to me like skin to bone after famine. You were never good for me, I realize. You were like the one last morsel of food on a desert island I thought I could trust, the parasites germinating  inside of me, eating away at me each passing day week month. I grew sick, but refused to face the music. I would rather be poisoned by you than die by my own lonliness.

jay gatsby fucked nick carroway

same