Power-pop progenitors? O.G. DIYers? The last college-rock survivors? No label adequately captures the four-decade journey of Zion, Ill.’s Shoes, who have released their first new studio material in 17 years. Perhaps the most astonishing thing about Shoes is that this ethic and attitude prevails despite a collection of music-biz bumps and bruises that could rival Charlie Brown in terms of sheer career futility. In some ways, they’re the Forrest Gumps of rock. Shoes essentially presaged punk’s DIY movement by recording its first, early-’70s albums in the living room before garnering enough critical acclaim to merit a major-label contract. Shoes will be guest editing magnentmagazine.com all week. Read our new feature on the band.
Klebe: When I was growing up, there was always one surefire way to make a little boy happy at birthdays or Christmas. Just buy him a gun. We had toy guns for pretending to kill just about everything. We had cowboy guns for killing Indians. Tommy guns for killing gangsters. Ray guns for killing Martians. Muskets for killing pirates. Dueling pistols for settling disputes. Gatling guns for mowing down Yankees and Confederates. Derringers for killing cheaters at the poker table. Stub-nose pistols and sawed-off shotguns for robbing banks. Squirt guns for killing your sister. And, of course, army rifles, pistols, machine guns, bazookas, hand grenades and flame throwers for killing soldiers … lots and lots of soldiers! Fun, fun, fun! There were even toy spy guns for killing, well, spies. Up-the-sleeve guns. Radio guns. Camera guns. There was even a gun concealed in a fake finger. And then there was my favorite of all. I had a holster for my cowboy gun that had a tiny gun concealed in the belt buckle. When one of my friends “got the draw on me” and I had to raise my hands in the air, all I had to do was push my stomach forward a bit, which triggered a button on the back of the belt buckle. Instantly, a derringer would pop out and fire. Hah, hah, bang you’re dead!
Then, when we got a little older, there were guns that fired real stuff like balls, BBs, darts and pellets. And our mothers were right. These were the kind of guns that could put your eye out, but that made them even cooler because now they were dangerous just like guns should be! Now you’re talkin’! I think that at the time we all figured that if we ever had to fight in real combat, we’d be ready. After all, we’d been training since birth. I never served in combat, but those who did were terribly disappointed.
Another photo after the jump.
