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So I went to see Superchunk last night, and I'd like to make two observations. The first is that Mac is a truly phenomenal guitarist. The second is that Jon is truly a phenomenal drummer.

Also, there was this guy with really long, black hair standing in front of us, and he was probably Superchunk's #1 fan, although he behaved more like he was at a 1987 Winger concert than a 2001 Noisepop show. He was doing some seriously sloppy pogo dancing, smashing his two fists together, knuckle-to-knuckle, screaming "I LOVE YOU, LAURA" at Ms. Ballance, and--worst of all--violently whipping his hair back out of his face, causing all of us standing behind him to have to take cover every few seconds. It was bad.

So, finally I politely said to him, "Hey, man--enjoy yourself--but is there any chance you can ease up on the hair flipping? You're whipping everybody in the face."

He turned to me and delivered a line which is sure to be an all-time classic quip, "You're a bitch."

Luckily I'm at the point in my emotional career where I can brush such comments aside, and I just clapped him on the back a few times and said, "Rock out, then."

And, for the rest of the show, our crew just dodged his hair flipping and watched unsuspecting concertgoers take the vacated position directly behind him, only to be summarily lacerated by his whipping locks. It was really, really funny.

Show report: My ultimate homie Brett and I went to go see Hot Water Music tonight. Solid hardcore, high knucklehead factor. A bunch of drunk fans from Reno were slam dancing and throwing water on people. A fight broke out between two studded-belt girls. I suppose that's what one can expect from the seemingly contradictory amalgamation of hardcore, Florida, and Charles Bukowski. Am I wrong?

Geez, I am REALLY into the new Spoon record.

A tip of the 40 to Joey Ramone.

In other music-related news, today I learned that my high school buddy Chris is the DJ for the nu-metal outfit Incubus. Crazy. Now he's all over the Ozz-fest scene and MTV. Chris and I formed our first band, The Basement Boys, in 8th grade. We had such hits as "The Big Drug Deal" and "Breadsticks and Sauce."

'Twas a simpler time...

Show report: The Shipping News
4.17.01 Bottom of the Hill, SF
Watching Jeff Mueller play guitar is a double-edged sword for me. See, I 'play' the rock-axe, but by no means do I posess the control of the instrument that ole' Jeff does. He's clean, folks. So damn clean that I'm utterly inspired by his ability. So damn clean that it makes me want to chuck my black Les Paul out the window.

Anyway, I'm going to try to channel the 'inspired' vibe and suppress the 'I suck' vibe. Thus, I gotta get me a delay pedal. All I want is a simple pedal that lets me control tempo and decay. Anyone have any suggestions?

Lisa Cole, this one goes out to you.

Q and Not U was just great. The show itself was in some teeny, balmy auditorium at the San Francisco Art Institute. About 50 kids were on the scene, and for a brief moment I felt slightly old, but it was great to get back to my roots. It's been a while since the days of VFW shows for me.

In classic DIY/5-bands for 5-dollars form, the early bands played too long, so Ted Leo (featuring one James Canty on guitar) and Q and Not U each only got to play about 5 songs before the cops showed up and sent everyone packing.

In related news, I went to Amoeba with Craig, and the Q and Not U boys happened to be hanging out there. I should have said hi, but I never know how to handle situations like that.

And finally, those of you who speak to me regularly know that I've been hemming and hawing for months now, unsure as to what the hell I'm going to do with myself for the forseeable future. Well, I'm here to tell you that it's ACTION TIME.

Peace out.

'Twas a long and arduous day, navigating the treacherous waters of apartment-hunting in San Francisco. Seems like every place I've seen has some profound shortcoming: too expensive, too small, too loud, sketchy neighborhood, sketchy landlord...

During a two-hour break between appointments, I stopped into Amoeba and picked up A Future Lived in Past Tense, the new full-length from Juno. I slapped it into my CD player and found a soft spot in Golden Gate Park to take in its majesty.

And majestic it is - a lush, three-guitar storm of melody - sometimes a drizzle, sometimes crashing thunder. Perpetually whip-smart and brutally potent.

It saved me yesterday.

Holy heck, this Juno record is sticking it to me, like no record has in quite some time...

To wit:
"you said everything like it was an afterthought you should have used it more wisely that soul you bought and now your mouth's running on telling us all the ways she went wrong but nobody's listening and so soon we'll all be gone wrong so you didn't get it right no one ever gets it right what's it like at am 5 o'clock? when all the love's alseep on your block post memorial drive you'll be the last to leave to say your goodbyes to ghosts eternally lost inside your son's hands stayed warm long after he died it's all a matter of reaching it's all a matter of covering believe me it's nothing believe me it's everything you never wanted it to be it's all a matter of reaching it's all a matter of struggling believe me it's nothing believe me it's everything you ever needed it to be this can't be an afterthought this right here is all I want you are the beautiful you are the beautiful you are the beautiful you."
- by A. Carstens, used without permission.

OK, I've been gushing about the new Juno record, and I'll stop now. Except to say that it's cool that my friend Amanda and my acquaintance Cynthia have photos in the album's layout. OK, I'm really done now.

In other news, the new Burning Airlines record strikes me as... very mature.

Here's how I feel about MTV: it sucks, unless you're on it.

In light of my recent "too broke to buy music" post, I discovered that the brilliantly defiant, anthemic discography of Richmond hardcore band Strike Anywhere is available as mp3's on their web site. Sic semper tyrannis.

Just got back from seeing the Plea for Peace benefit show at ye olde Music Hall. Unfortunately I was tardy, so I missed Pretty Girls make Graves, who my friend Chris has told me to check out twice now. But, I caught the last part of Cave-In, Matt Skiba and Hot Water Music.

Here's my nutshell show review: Hot Water Music plays the best beard-core since Hoover.

OK, that's a joke, I personally liked Hoover way, way better, but HWM was pretty solid nonetheless. As I mentioned before, any band named after a Bukowski book is at least worth checking out.

And, as I sit here eating chips and salsa while writing this, I just dropped a big dollop of wet tomatoey goop all over my keyboard. Hey, it's only a $3500 laptop, what the hell?

The BK "What the ...?!?" Award of the Day goes out to Oysterhead, the new musical project of Les Claypool (Primus), Trey Anastasio (Phish) and Stuart Copeland (The Police). OK, I don't know Phish from Shinola, but I do know enough to recognize that the dude Trey can get his guitar wizardry on. And I haven't really been crazy about Primus in a while, but everybody knows that Les is a badass bassman. And then, of course, The Police — you gotta be down with the kings.

I guess Oysterhead sounds a lot like Primus, mainly due to Les' signature chaw-spittin' vocal style, but you can certainly hear the echoes of Phish's jam-band steez as well as Stuart's syncopated mastery. Will I be seeing them in Berkeley later this month? Probably not.

I was just flipping through the channels and landed on CBS just in time to see Dashboard Confessional on the Late Late Show with Craig Kilborn. Now that's just downright kooky. Anyone wanna lay bets on the first indie rockers to make TRL?

I just received copies of the forthcoming Shiner and Dismemberment Plan CDs, "The Egg" and "Change," respectively. They're two of my favorite bands on one of my favorite record labels (DeSoto), and both are very much exactly what this kid needed.

It sure is nice to have your ass kicked by music. Them two new discs I got are burnin' up the charts here on the homestead...

Now —I'm down with Shiner, believe you me, I'm down with 'em, but The Plan is just giving me the groovy licks while I get my freelance on. Someone PLEASE do a 12" remix of The Other Side and invite me to whichever party will play it. I'll freakin' dance to that shit.

Argh. I found out a job I'd been hoping for was given to a friend of someone who works there. Stupid insider connections. I could have kicked that job square in the ass.

Here's something I've been wondering about: does anyone know anything about the history behind the practice of rock bands removing the nameplates from their amps and speaker cabinets? I looked around the Net for a picture to illustrate this point to the non-initiate, but I just can't find one. You know you've seen it, though: the gold and black Marshall half-stack with all the names ripped off. I've even seen bands put black electrical tape over the nameplates, presumably because they'd rented equipment and needed to maintain their no-brand name ethic.

Is it just a hardcore anti-corporate thing (not wanting to display a brand name on stage) or is there some other story that I don't know? Does it matter?

Just back from seeing Superchunk at the Music Hall. Still representin' after all these years. No incidents, unlike last time.

Just now I witnessed a Jimmy Eat World video on primetime MTV, so all of you who voted for Saves The Day, The Promise Ring, Get Up Kids, or what have you, EAT IT! I WIN!!

Kidding. Everybody wins when emo rock hits the mainstream, kiddies.

Kidding again.

By the way, I'm wearing a Clarity-era Jimmy Eat World 'Arizona' tee shirt right now. I'm a very complex individual.

Goodbye, George Harrison. You done good.

Picked up Amy, Brett and Lisa last night in the new ride and we took it down to the Great American Music Hall to take in a solo acoustic show by Elliott Smith.

Wow.

He was wasted, no doubt. His between-song banter was nearly unintelligible, and he sat and swigged Smirnoff Ice while rabid fans screamed song titles at him. All things considered, he took the fan onslaught very well and actually indulged quite a few requests for older songs.

Highlights included covers of George Harrison's "Give Me Love (Give Me Peace on Earth)" and one of those folky Zeppelin songs about elves and faeries — I can't remember which one, but he did it pretty well after having to stop mid-song and get the guy from Oranger to re-tune his guitar for him.

Actually, Elliott forgot the lyrics and chords to a lot of his songs, especially the few XO songs that he played (he played nothing from Figure 8). He played many songs that I've never heard, and I can only assume that they were songs from his forthcoming record; and lemme tell ya, they contain some dark themes and some of the most unveiled drug references so far. Tough times, I presume. I'm hoping that he's hitting the bottle and not the needle, but... one can only speculate.

For me, probably the greatest moment was his encore of "Angeles," which is one of my favorites. He couldn't remember the bridge, and just stopped playing it — but the audience kept singing the words, which must have spurred his memory, and he launched back into the final "no one's gonna fool around with us" verse.

Day four of social leprosy. I've noticed that store clerks tend to drop the change into my palm rather than risk the hand touch. Not like the cash they're handling is any less toxic than yours truly, but hey. Can't blame 'em, I guess.

Back in late '96, fresh out of my first Internet contract job, my tech skills were low but my pop culture derring-do and so-called "writing skills" were my rock. My dream job was to review games for one of the many videogame sites that were popping up at the time. I blasted around my resume, and even got a few interviews, but I never got so much as a rejection letter from GameSpot, which has arguably been the best game site since the get-go.

What kind of talent does it take to write for GameSpot, anyway? Ask ex-Jawbreaker, current Jetter to Brazil Blake Schwarzenbach, if you can corner him. After the much-lamented Jawbreaker divorce, he paid the bills by penning a few way-too-cerebral reviews for said game site. Here are his reviews of Pandemonium, Helicops and Independence Day. Pretty funny.

I have a guilty pleasure: I just can't get enough of the new Tool album Lateralus. There are moments of Rock on that record that freakin' throw down, and I don't care what you say. Yup, it's about two shades away from Queensrÿche, but you know what? It's pumping the blood lately, and you can't front on that. Rating: B+

I really need to take a break from Mexican food. I eat Mexican (aka 'burritos' to me, as I'm not too experimental) probably three or four times per week, and I think tonight the Fates are telling me to chill on the burrito tip.

Our Gang rolled through a much-admired taqueria near Bimbo's for a pre-Dismemberment Plan meal. I ordered my requisite vegetarian burrito, which in San Francisco is about the size of a football and chock full of black beans, cheese, rice, chopped onions and cilantro. Sounds simple enough, right? Not tonight — it took like 20 minutes for them to bring the food to our table. Most taquerias get you your goods within minutes.

Thanks to this unfortunate burrito latency, we were late for the show.

Now, I'm usually not the most ancy guy around, but when it comes to going to movies or rock shows, I damn well make it a point to be early. Especially when it's a band I really admire. Needless to say I was none-too-stoked at missing the first few D-Plan songs. Still worse, that football/burrito I'd just mawed had me smelling like I'd just stripped to my skivvies and rolled around in a pile of onions. I mean, I could smell myself.

All this spells "time to cool it on the burritos, BK." And so it is. I'm going to try to work it down to once or twice per week.

Which begs a very important question: what the hell am I going to eat now?

The mind reels. Now bear with me while I change subjects back to the world of Rock:

I can't stand when clubs mix the sound for "supporting bands" poorly, while making sure that the "headlining band" sounds crystalline and perfect. Tonight the Plan's mix was just not doing them justice — at least from my vantage point in the audience. Death Cab's sound was near flawless, though.

Having worked at another of SF's big venues for touring bands, I know that some clubs actively try to make the headliners mix better than the opening acts, and that just bums me out. If the opening band plays better than the headliners, then that's just the way it is, dammit. Don't hobble a kick-ass band by letting their mix suck.

Thanks, I'm sure you all needed to read that. Actually, maybe you did.

Calgon, take me away...

Man, the world sure is kooky.

Sitting here at home, waiting for laundry, I'm playing my guitar. The AP Guitar Tuner is a teeny freeware app that works just as well as any $60 guitar tuner I've ever bought. Plus, it has tons of alternate tunings built-in, so you can experiment with all kinds of Sonic Youth-isms. Fantastic.

So, in the bedroom, in my chair, laptop whirring away on my desk, guitar perfectly tuned, I hit The Online Guitar Archive to dig up some songs to play. Another fine, fine resource. So as I'm jamming out Bob Mould's Black Sheets of Rain, I realize that in the 12 years since the song has been released (which is enough of a fright in itself), I can't quite remember all the lyrics, and due to legal issues they don't publish lyrics on OLGA. Time to find the lyrics on the 'Net.

One Google query later, I'm on Mr. Mould's personal site.

Now, I should pause for a second and say that for those of you who don't really know me personally, Hüsker Dü (and Mr. Mould in particular) are right up there with Sesame Street in exerting major forces in the shaping of my character.

So imagine my shock when reading his site:

... I got sidetracked for 7 months in late 1999/early 2000, assuming the role of Creative Consultant at the now-defunct World Championship Wrestling branch of AOL/TimeWarner. Being part of the team that, each week, created 4 to 7 hours of live episodic television watched by 3-4 million households per show was a childhood dream come true, and perhaps the hardest work Iﾕve ever done...

Bob Mould? The WCW?!? Like I said, the world is just plain kooky. Some of you who are more in the know probably feel this is old news, and I guess it is. But it's news to me. Read more here.

Don't take this as a brag, but having just hung out with Guided By Voices, I now feel like I truly grasp the meaning of the phrase "party like a rock star." I managed to escape with nothing more than a wicked pair of ringing ears, but others should fear for their livers in a major way. Hot Freaks, indeed.

Day three of camera fun: I have to send it back to the manufacturer in the UK. Seems that it's just plain faulty. Well, that was fun. I'll give you more updates in 17 weeks when I get a replacement.

In other news, Steve, the chirpy host of the kids' show Blues Clues has quit the show and is recording a record with members of The Flaming Lips. That's just plain nutty. Steve's Web site has more info, as does Pitchfork.

I should be stoked, but for some reason I'm bummed at the recent trend of "real" rock bands gaining mainstream popularity. The Strokes have zero credibility, as far as I'm concerned; the White Stripes are cool, but way overexposed; and now the Swedish rock outfit The Hives are all the buzz. Funny thing is, all three of these bands have a history of playing shows with the East Bay rock band The Pattern, who is fronted by Lookout! Records president Christopher Appelgren. Lookout! is pretty down with the punk ethic, so the whole thing is quite confusing. Maybe I should just stop overanalyzing it and listen to some Stones.

Les Savy Fav: fucking amazing.

Enough bitching. Basically, if it weren't for my homies and good rock n' roll music, I'd be dead in the friggin' water. That said, I'm a lucky guy.

Just back from the Shiner show: in a word, brilliant. In a bunch of words, I've said it before and I'll say it again; Shiner is quite simply the pinnacle example of fine American Rock.

Crushing. Incredibly loud and as tight as a band can get. Bonus: the encore cover of My Bloody Valentine's "Only Shallow" was spot-on, and a perfect match.

Hellraiserz represent. With a 'Z'.

In light of my recent indie-bitching, I point thee to a well-constructed and deservedly self-righteous rant by Mr. Morrison of The Dismemberment Plan.

Miscellaneous updates: Still ain't seen Episode Two. Hopefully this weekend if I get a sec and can deal with the crowds. More tattooin' tomorrow, despite my IRS-imposed lack of disposable finances. Craig, on the other hand, got a job and will soon be pulling down that bank. Dollar-dollar bill, y'all.

An even bigger hole in the boat is the fact that Dee Dee Ramone has been found dead of an apparent drug overdose. Damn, that sucks.

Lately I've been appreciating the well-arranged three- or four-chord guitar songs. Pure, simple songs with lyrics that hit you in the gut. New Slang by The Shins is doing just that. They're playing tonight at the Fillmore, and since I blew my chance to see them a few months ago, I should probably go. The ticket price may be a tad pricey, though.

Well, I hate to say it, but I saw the video for The Hives' "Hate To Say I Told You So" on late-night MTV last Saturday, and my opinion of the band took a U-turn. I've had their '98 EP a.k.a. I-D-I-O-T for a while now, and well... it never really kicked my ass. Of course, I think I've listened to it twice, so it's quite possible that I didn't give it much of a fighting chance. But that video from their 2000 LP Veni Vedi Vicious is pretty dope (best of all is their bassist, "Dr. Matt Destruction" with his big-ass Rickenbacker). Wish I could have seen 'em at Slim's a few weeks back, but that show sold out real quick-like. Crazy Swedes. Yes, I am probably fickle.

Had my first little wipeout this morning, courtesy of my new Paul-crafted skate. Now I have a little scrape on the heel of my hand. Feel sorry for me.

In far less wussy news, Cornbread Compton, drummer for Engine Down, has released his new single, "Lose My Head". Be warned.

Going Down Swingin', the recent, final release from Chicago's Sweep the Leg Johnny is pretty bad-ass. The addition of ex-Rumah Sakit guitar whiz Mitch Cheney really adds some serious dimension to their already ridiculously abstract, saxophone-augmented noise rock. It takes some serious effort to get through the double-LP, but I likes it.

Alkaline Trio's From Here to Infirmary is good foot-tappin' power punk, and great to write HTML to. Thanks to Gregg for opening that door for me.

And why did Chavez have to call it quits?

What the hell are you listening to?

Oh, geez. A few weeks ago I waxed praiseworthy of the song "New Slang" by The Shins, and I linked to the video. Well, just now I was taking a mental breather after a prolonged session of battling Netscape 4, and I went back and watched the video again. Suddenly it dawned on me that many of the shots are re-creations of classic indie rock album covers. Maybe this was obvious to you, but I totally glazed right over it before. Now I am even more impressed.

I spotted (roughly in order of appearance): Hüsker Dü's Zen Arcade and New Day Rising, The Replacements' Let It Be, the self-titled Squirrel Bait EP and Slint's Spiderland. There are a few others, such as the shot against the amusement park ride, that I recognize but can't place. There are many other shots that totally don't recognize at all, and maybe they aren't anything. Anyone else spot any other covers? Cool idea.

Master rocker Blake Schwarzenbach lays down some potent politics on the Jets to Brazil site. Be sure to scroll down and read the archived post first before continuing with the main page.

In other news, Buddyhead's Gossip page reports that Blake is featured in a series of Burger King TV ads that commence this month. I'll believe that when I see it, considering the source. But if it is true, someone tape 'em for me.

I was just walking to the corner store to get a Skor bar and I swear to friggin' God I was walking right behind Tom Waits. He was with some little kid. If he wasn't Tom Waits then he should take it to Vegas and make himself a good living.

Hey Mercedes last night at the Great American Music Hall. Someone needs to sit Damon Atkinson down and teach him how to play the drums, because he stinks. Actually, he doesn't. He's pretty amazingly good. As are all them dudes — there's so much technical talent there. The crowd was thin, though. I think they should have played Bottom of the Hill instead, but hey.

Mercedes.

OK, Gold Chains wins the prize for: a) shooting his video on BART; b) having a boom-box that plays vinyl; and c) an unmistakeable display of badassosity and lack of caring.

I don't care if you're surfing on a PC/XT with a 9600 baud modem. Watch that video.

Meme spread via El Toro via Rocker T.

Remember a year or two ago when it seemed like every single commercial had a Who song in it? Nissan Pathfinders playing SUV polo set to "Baba O'Reilly," and the like...

I've been noticing that The Clash seems to have signed a few deals lately. Jaguar uses "London Calling" in its new batch of ads, and Stoli bought "Should I Stay or Should I Go" for its Citrona spots. Rock on?

The fruits of my saki-induced Amazon 1-Click® frenzy have arrived. And lemme say that Rhino's Ramones re-issues are pretty hot. They're remastered, full of awesome photos and demo tracks, and all-around, I don't care that the records were expensive. It's The Ramones and they were great.

In other news, I think I might go see Gold Chains live and in person tonight. (Turns out he was spinning, not performing ... no dice.)

I've been quite the Interpol fan as of late. Someone said they are to Joy Division as The Strokes are to The Velvet Underground, which may be partially true, although I tend to trust Interpol a bit more than their ghetto-Prada counterparts. The Matador Records thing helps, I guess.

I don't need to tell you this, but NYC is the new home of rock-n-roll. And that's OK. Makes more sense than, say, Kansas City. Not that KCMO didn't deserve it there for a little while...

Well, not really. I was planning on posting a link to the new MP3 single released by The Fire Theft, a new band consisting of three of the members of Sunny Day Real Estate. Looking at Pitchfork today, I see that they're running it as their top story. Ah well.

Here's The Fire Theft's site, anyway. Hit the audio page to get the track (they're disallowing direct linking for some reason).

I gotta say, it's much better than the final SDRE release, which was rather poo-poo, in my opinion. The new track definitely represents a matured sense of songwriting (read: they're getting old). Also, you just can't front on Jeremy's vocal talents, 74 vocal overdubs of chain-smoking Christianity notwithstanding. The song reminds me of LP2-era Sunny Day, which is quite alright in my book. Kinda makes me wonder what all today's emo superstar bands will be doing in 10 years.

It's official. Har Mar Superstar is certifiably insane. The moustache alone should be proof, as if the underwear-clad shoulder-stands weren't enough already. Scary -- dare I say it -- even brilliant, stuff.

Finally, after months and months of mystery, I realized that Zwan, the "Bad Company" of the new millenium, has a web site. The band consists of ex-Smashing Pumpkins Billy Corgan and Jimmy Chamberlin, ex-Chavez/Skunk/Wider/Guided By Voices/Cat Power/Bonnie Prince Billy hero Matt Sweeney, ex-Slint/Tortoise/Aerial M/Papa M/for Carnation/Matmos/etc whiz David Pajo, and ex-A Perfect Circle bassist Paz Lenchantin. Their pedigree is the size of Corgan's bank account, and refreshingly for such a supergroup, they seem to have been deliberately mysterious thus far.

I hit the site and first watched their home movies, which seemed characteristically vague and mostly non-rock, and not in a bad way. I at least had to scratch my head and wonder what these folks are up to. What with Sweeney's and Pajo's background, I can't imagine that they're making bubblegum.

But then I got back to the homepage and downloaded the Honestly song, which is simple, Siamese Dream-ish 1992 Smashing Pumpkins pop rock redux. What gives?

After three amazing days in the mountain wilderness I just now returned home and sat down to catch up with current events. Joe Strummer, dead at age 50.

Man, oh man.

Sadly, I just learned that one of my favorite heavy melodic rock bands is calling it quits. See ya, Shiner, the kings of midwestern rock.

The first I'd seen or heard of them was when I saw them open for Jawbox in 1996, and it was one of the very few times in the hundreds (if not thousands) of shows in my rock fanboy career that I was utterly, speechlessly blown away by a band I knew nothing about. For me they had the perfect combination of melody, huge song structure, hooks and sheer technical ability.

And for what it's worth, they always fought the good fight. With a sound as accessible as they had (I heard someone once say they sounded like the Foo Fighters), they could have taken a different tack and you'd be seeing them gussied up by stylists and rocking on the roofs of buildings right now. But as it was, they stuck to their guns, treated their rock like their art and did it the old fashioned way: they earned it.

» "You Said Something," PJ Harvey
» "New Slang," The Shins
» "You're Having the Time of My Life," Jets to Brazil
» "Angeles," Elliott Smith
» "I Might Be Wrong," Radiohead

As you can see, I'm good for about three chords. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Apparently Pizza Hut commissioned Ween to compose some jingles for some newfangled pizza concept with all the cheese inside the pie.

This is what Dean and Gene came up with. Pizza Hut never used any of Ween's ideas and ended up hiring someone else. (via BoingBoing)

Hey, Jason Newsted has joined Voivod! Neat.

The show was fun. Lots of good folks -- plenty of young rockers, a few crusty old-school rock heads who sat on the bench and got wasted, and a guy in a "plant a tree" shirt who eventually laid out a bunch of breads, oreos, crackers, and produce for us, all of which I suspect were dumpster-derived. Whatever.

I put together a gallery of the show.

I had never heard of Norah Jones before tonight, and to my knowledge I have yet to hear her music. Apparently she's the daughter of Ravi Shankar? Man, I gotta get out more, or something.

Did anyone see Bruce Springsteen, Little Steven, Elvis Costello and the dude from No Doubt do "London Calling?" I was working.

Har Mar Superstar is a pop culture genius.

The genius ended right there, though. Post-Har Mar dinner devolved into an overly emotional, political argument over Israel/Palestine issues; one that would make any discussion on Orangefuzz seem like Romper Room. Any point I tried to make was patently dismissed by my counterpart because apparently I am a white male of Christian descent, and have no background or understanding of any sort of persecution whatsoever. According to my opposition, I can be "punk rock" and "liberal" but any argument I make is instantly invalidated due to my white male-ness. But don't go accusing my accuser of race- or gender-based generalizations, though -- that would be offensive. I finally had to throw down my part of the tab, get up and leave.

Here's to a wonderful evening.

A pretty exhausting week of rock show-attending, all in all. Some of the shows were just OK, and some were really great. Here's a recap:

» 02.25.03: Har Mar Superstar -- As I said before, hilarious and fun. "So exclusive it hurts," quoth the naked bard.

» 02.27.03: The Court and Spark -- They sounded pretty darn good, working standard country licks into a slightly tenser indie-informed sound. I guess they usually have horns and stuff too, but they sounded just fine with guitars and pedal steel. Cafe Du Nord is a tough place to see shows, though. The stage and ceiling are just too low.

Fun side event: outside the Club that night we witnessed a thickly moustachioed man clad in very tight faded jeans, a puffy yellow jacket, amber-lensed teardrop shades (at night) and pointy cowboy boots, who was bummed that he couldn't get into the show.

Pete (the doorman): "The club's sold out, man. Why don't you go down the street to Lucky 13?"

Crazy Flaming Cowboy Dude: "Is it straight?"

Pete: "...a straight bar? Yeah, I guess..."

CFCD (with a nod, pointing to himself with his thumb): "Cuz I'm straight!"

Giving it a pause for his declaration to sink in, he spins on his heel and swaggers down the sidewalk. Hilarity ensues.

» 02.28.03: Tsunami Bomb/Hot Rod Circuit -- Tsunami Bomb bites the big one. If I wanted to listen to circa-1990 Bad Religion, I would. If I wanted to listen to an excellent current band which channels the fervor of circa-1990 Bad Religion, I would too. This band was not either. The plethora of teenaged girls in the house were very impressed, mainly with the slight gusto on the part of TB's frontwoman. It's cool if she's inspiring girls, sure -- but the band still sucked.

Hot Rod Circuit, technically speaking, is quite a solid band, but their music is super-generic emo/indie rock. They have a few songs which get my foot a-tappin, though. That's about the extent of it.

The groupie scene at this show was, let's just say, amusing to behold.

» 03.01.03: Erase Errata/The Locust -- Erase Errata were cool. Their bassist laid down some really rad lines which reminded me of The Jesus Lizard. Overall, the quality of the house mix didn't do them much justice, although if you listen to their records it's clear that audio fidelity is not all that high on their list of priorities.

The Locust, on the other hand, were probably my favorite band of the entire festival. I have their self-titled CD, and frankly it's pretty unlistenable. But their stage show was insane. Their drummer was killing it, hitting so hard and playing such intricate stuff that he literally looked like he was going to puke between each of their 45-second "songs." Brilliant. I loved it. The hecklers were very uninspired, though.

» 03.02.03: Tortoise -- I saw Tortoise years ago and was befuddled at their musicianship. Last night was just as impressive. The super-loud group of knuckleheads who loudly conversed with one another, much to the chagrin of those around them, were not so impressive, however. Ironic that I almost get into a brawl at one of the mellowest shows of the festival.

Rock on.

There needs to be more bands like Q And Not U. While too many indie rockstar-wannabes are too caught up in the trappings of fancy sweaters to think about musically innovating, Q gets up and throws down rock that is unique, clever and ass-shaking. Last night at Bottom of the Hill was another fine example of their prowess.

Yeah, they're from DC and they sure sound like it — and that's just the way I like it. They carry the Dischord torch quite well. Some of their songs are very obviously influenced by the almighty Fugazi, but while most Picciotto imitators fall dead flat, the Q guys take the melodic, discordant, arty tradition that is that facet of DC hardcore and make it their own. Good stuff.

Tickets: $32 ($16 apiece; I ended up going alone and couldn't sell my extra)
Beers: $10
Parking: $5 (couldn't find a spot, so I parked in a nearby garage)
TOTAL: $47

Was it worth it? Well, I guess so. Just barely.

Musically, the ex-SDRE dudes are on point. Jeremy's ear for arrangement is as impressive as ever, and William Goldsmith is such a good drummer. Going to shows solo is never fun, but even though their songs may have been a bit inconsistent in the jaw-dropping department, there were enough high points to keep me impressed.

The Jealous Sound were as flat as Knapsack always was. Good songwriting, booooring performance. It was good to see ex-Jawbox/Shudder to Think drummer Adam Wade rockin' it with them, though.

It had been a few years since I'd seen Rocket From the Crypt, and they didn't disappoint. Lineup changes notwithstanding, their chaingun-like ability to blast out hits from their 13-year career seemed near effortless. John Reis played his role as demented bandleader, hopped up on Stax Records and punk rock, screaming "let's hear it for the band!" and "we're so horny for your applause!"

The crowd might have been a bit thinner than years past; the garage torch may have been handed off to today's trend-friendly upstarts, but there's no denying Rocket's cred in that scene.

I shouldn't have forgotten my earplugs for this one. Friggin' loud.

Well, if you're gonna go out, that was a pretty good way to do it. Saturday night marked the Dismemberment Plan's final show in San Francisco: they're breaking up later this year, and like a good little band they're taking one last spin out on the road for their fans. And the fans were in the house, yes they were.

While The Plan didn't quite pack in the multicultural legions known to be found at hometown shows back in D.C., Slim's was well attended by hipsters, nerds, rockers, shell-necklace dudes, students and all those in between — not bad for an otherwise cold and windy Saturday.

Thankfully, Travis laid low on the vocal overembellishment which had, in my view, turned the last few Plan shows I'd seen into kitschy mockeries of their own funk. That's not to say there wasn't a heaping helping of his signature brand of inside-the-beltway indie intelligentsia ass-shaking, but fortunately he didn't overdo it with seven million "yeahs" and the weird scat singing thing.

The result? A solid show, without a doubt, belying the trappings of a D.C. rock band that didn't do the Dischord thing, avoided hipster clichés, wasn't afraid to bust out a Casio and dance, almost fell prey to major label bullshit and decided to keep it real with good old DeSoto, and ended up being one of those bands that you can't keep under your thumb — which in the end, is the best kind.

Friday night was interesting. I guess every year the local alt-rock radio station, Live 105, throws this big extravaganza concert called BFD, which stands for... well, Big Fuckin' Deal. Don't let the faux self-deprecating moniker fool you; this concert was all about the big show. This year's main stage hosted The White Stripes, AFI, The Deftones, and the Foo Fighters headlined. Side stage highlights were The Roots, The Donnas, Interpol, and a bunch of other bands that the kids seem to like. And once again, the fans showed up, yes they did. In droves.

Good old Juice did the logo and a bunch of other graphics for this year's concert, and I was fortunate enough to receive not only a ticket, but a backstage pass. I saw some crazy things.

All eyes are on Dave Grohl. I mean, I've seen many, many bands in my day. Some famous, many not. I've seen famous people at bars and at shows and what not. But this was different. Maybe it was due to his band being the pinnacle event of the evening; maybe it was due to the fact that he was being chill and hanging out while other bands suspiciously retreated to their trailers. Either way, there was a weird sense of idolatry floating around. One girl, probably about 19 or so, approached Dave and gave him what I assumed to be her band's demo CD. He accepted it and chatted for a few minutes before somebody else got his attention, so she shook his hand for the third time, turned away and immediately began to straight-up bawl, all quivering and crying like those girls from the old Beatles newsreels. She quickly walked, almost ran, back to her safety net of friends who thoughtfully gave her a pair of dark sunglasses to cry behind. Whoa.

And as far as the rock went, the Foo Fighters were really good, but the Deftones just straight up owned it. On a whole different level. Given the fact that the White Stripes' sound mix was really bad — and I don't even want to get into just how horribly AFI totally, totally, totally sucks — I wasn't expecting a very good show at the old amphitheater. Boy did the Deftones set me straight. They killed it. The way a band should be. Confident, super-tight, great songs and a style that you can't pigeonhole. The type of show where you just turn to your friend and speechlessly shake your head like, "holy shit, dude." "Nu-metal," you say? Deal with it. "But they have a DJ," you protest? How's your band doing?

A teenaged girl in the row in front of me did the Beatles-bawl thing when the Deftones first exploded. Can't really blame her, I guess.

As we've been noting, my recent tastes in Rock have swung back toward the maniacally technical and heavy end of the spectrum, but last night's Thermals show was a nice dash of the exact opposite.

Bandleader Hutch Harris played barely more than power chords for the entire set, spastically spitting out the three-minute, four-chord attacks that he'd recorded in his kitchen just last year. Drummer Jordan Hudson beat the crap out of his stripped-down kit. No toms; just kick, snare, high-hat, ride and crash. Not that I was left wanting anything more.

You can call it lo-fi or no-fi or whatever, but to my mind it's just straight-up dirty, melodic rock & roll, hard and fast, upbeat and snappy. Pure, even. Young. Carrying the Guided By Voices torch nicely, if far less drunkenly. And that's alright.

As previously noted, lots of bands, lots of work. Brevity is the soul of multitasking.

The Gossip. Darn good. Girl has some serious, serious pipes and the Deep South roots hold strong.

Hella. Insane.

Erase Errata. Not my bag.

The Locust. Even more insane. I think after seeing them twice now, I've had my fill. They're a lot to handle.

Darkest Hour. Tonight. Psyched.

Old Man Gloom next week. ISIS/Cave-In side project. Looking forward to it.

Brett bought me some CDs for my birthday, and as usual, the first thing I did when I got home was to slap 'em in my PowerBook and rip MP3s out of them. And as I did it, I was sitting there like, "what's to stop me from sharing these files with my roommate?" Or, I could just have easily let him take the CDs and rip his own files. Or I could share these files with my entire office. Or I could put them on the Internet. And everybody else with any modicum of know-how (read: the kids, the biggest consumer of music) is thinking the same thing.

Fact is, MP3s are little files. Files small enough to fly across a LAN in the blink of an eye. Across the Internet in minutes. Yeah, music used to be this packaged commodity that you bought in a store, but the times, they are a-changin'.

Get with it, labels! RIAA, you are a bunch of antiquated fools, and you're shooting yourselves in the foot by fighting file sharing. It will not go away. Figure something out. Lashing out with lawsuits against college kids is the act of a threatened, cornered animal. Adapt or die, you dummies.

The audience was comprised of about twenty nerdy rock dudes. Yup, all guys. Even the band called us out on it. We laughed.

The Life and Times were pretty incredible, though — especially considering how new the band is. Drummer Mike Myers is flat-out awesome. Even ex-Shiner drummer Tim Dow was on hand to give his propers.

Best of luck to you, fellas. I have high hopes.

Springsteen. Strummer. Fugazi. Those were the names on everyone's lips as The Constantines pounded out a much rougher, looser set than I'd anticipated. Every review mentions the band's obvious influences, but I think the draw is that The Constantines, like their progenitors, know how to go beyond the text of the song into a higher realm of rock gospel. People were clapping along without being told to! Dancing, even. It felt like a revival.

And they were very, very well received. There's something really cool about seeing a Canadian band on the verge of indie rock notoriety come to San Francisco for the first time, and play to showers of applause. The surprised look of appreciation on their faces as they broke down their amps spoke volumes.

Man, Q and Not U is one hell of a band. I've said it here about five times in the past, so I won't belabor the point. Suffice it to say that they killed it once again last night. One of the better shows I've seen recently.

Openers Black Eyes didn't quite do it for me, though. I guess they're a solid enough band, but their brand of Red Red Meat-cum-All Scars cacaphony just ain't my bag. The kids were into 'em, though.

Quality D.C.-rock moment: Q's Harris Klahr throws down his guitar in between songs and gets on the mic. "I'm sure that you Californians are sick enough of elections at this point, but there's another election coming up. It's the first time in eight years that we'll be able to actually elect our president, and there are voter registration cards in the back so we can get that cowboy crypto-fascist bitch out of my neighborhood."

Resounding cheers ensued.

Few bands would be more appropriate to see on the day after Arnold Schwarzenegger, OF ALL PEOPLE, gets elected to be the governor of California. Strike Anywhere's furious, super smart, hyper-political punk tirade was just what my frustrated, scared, astonished conscience needed. On a day when I felt ever more lonely and isolated in the tidy little liberal enclave that is San Francisco, a hardcore band from Richmond, VA stops in my town and reminds me that I'm part of a much larger, global community committed to creating our own culture and speaking out against tyranny in whatever way we can.

Oh, and they rocked, too.

I am really, really saddened by the apparent suicide of Elliott Smith. He was one of music's purest talents, period.

I know there's still a good three weeks of 2003 left, but I had a hankerin' to break out with one of those purely subjective year-end lists that we all love so much. Not all of these are in fact from 2003 -- there might be a 2002 here and there, but if it's reasonably new and got the play, well then I say it's fair game for my list.

Top 10 of 2003 (in no particular order)

» Q and Not U, "Different Damage"
This is one of those 2002 releases that I keep turning back to. These three guys are carrying the DC rock torch as well as any of their many progenitors ever did, and their live show is killer.

» Minus the Bear, "Highly Refined Pirates"
I'm a sucker for tense, smart, technical, melodic indie rock in the vein of Jawbox and Braid, and this band is exactly that. Technically more so, if you factor in all the insanely complex finger-tapping that guitarist Dave Knudson lays in. Excellent driving music.

» The Gossip, "Movement"
Musically, this band is good enough for the Kill Rock Stars sound, meaning they're somewhat sloppy, their drummer is little more than sufficient, and they have no bassist -- but by God can frontwoman Beth Ditto belt it out. She's modern legit-rock's answer to Arethra Franklin, as far as I'm concerned. Major, major talent right there, on record and even more, on stage. And her thick Arkansas accent proves she ain't fakin' it, neither.

» Coheed and Cambria, "In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth: 3"
I have to give this band respect for playing music true to their influences, even if those influences aren't "cool" bands like Velvet Underground or Joy Division. Nay, this band is the product of youths spent air-drumming to the likes of Rush, Voivod and other prog/concept bands, with a dash of true hardcore roots -- Bad Brains and Into Another are definitely in the recipe as well. Gotta love that.

» Elliott Smith, "Division Day/No Name #6" 7"
Rest in Peace. I truly believe that Elliott Smith was every bit the musical talent of Neil Young, Springsteen, Nick Drake, even Lennon. The home-recorded acoustic guitar intro to "No Name #6" is nothing short of perfection.

» Strike Anywhere, "Exit English"
More melodic, slower, a teensy bit less punk than 2001's excellent "Change is a Sound," but no less politically outspoken or fierce in its message. This is American hardcore at its finest.

» The Life and Times, "The Flat End of the Earth EP"
Any regular reader of redshifter.org knows I was a big fan of Shiner's heavy melody and surgically precise delivery. After Shiner's demise, frontman Allen Epley formed The Life and Times. While his new band may not be the sludgy juggernaut that Shiner was, the EP exhibits just as much songwriting proficiency, and when they let it loose, they do so with just as much aplomb as we'd all hope. Mr. Epley really prefers to work with drummers who hit like Bonham, and seeing TLAT's Mike Myers play live had me scraping my jaw off the floor more than once. I look forward to this band's debut full-length.

» Darkest Hour, "Hidden Hands of a Sadist Nation"
Yes, it is possible to be a great band from DC and not be under the Dischord umbrella. The metal chops on this record are so kick-ass, the vocals so unintelligibly guttural, the drums so relentlessly fast. Many a time have I raised a fist to Darkest Hour while I blast them in my headphones at work, only to turn and see a puzzled mechanical engineer staring at me like I sprouted horns.

» Aloha, "Sugar"
Another 2002 release, but it's so damn good that I still have to listen to it end-to-end at least once a week. That says a lot. Tension/release, jazzy rock with percussion and vibraphone. Very much awaiting their return to the studio, which is said to be in the plans for '04.

Honorable Mentions

» The New Pornographers, "Electric Version"
There are some really great songs on this record -- enough to make it an honorable mention -- and there are also several more that leave me flat. The LP starts out with a bang, but midway through the record I'm usually over it and look for something else.

» Paloalto, "Heroes and Villains"
There are some pretty good songs on here, and if you like the UK band Travis then you'll definitely like the songwriting on this record -- it's virtually identical. Producer Rick Rubin makes the record sound damn good, at least.

» Rocky Votolado, "Suicide Medicine"
This dude is everything that Dashboard Confessional wants to be but isn't, other than filthy rich. Great acoustic songwriting and butter-smooth vocals. I haven't been listening to it enough to qualify for "best of" status, but it's still growing on me...

» The Shins, "Chutes Too Narrow"
I was really looking forward to their follow-up to the excellent "Oh, Inverted World," and while "Chutes" is a good record, it's just not quite as great. Yeah, there are some really good songs and James Mercer is a hell of a songwriter, but I'm just left wanting more.

» The White Stripes, "Elephant"
What the hell, there are a few jams on this record, despite the hype. I wouldn't mind seeing this band win a Grammy, I guess.

I gotta agree with Chris on this one. Despite an awesomely nerdy prog/metal/hardcore sound, Coheed's live show wasn't all that. Not to say that they were bad by any means; they just left me a little flat. Claudio's voice was nowhere near as polished as it is on the recordings, and he didn't even look at me when I shook his hand after the show. I think he was hammered. Oh well.

So, thanks to GarageBand's super-basic interface, I've finally come to understand the basics of audio recording on my Powerbook. I knew I needed some way to control MIDI and I needed a way to bring clean audio into my computer while being able to directly monitor my playing to avoid latency. I reckoned that this thing would do the trick, and by golly does it ever.

Many thanks to Computers & Music, a local shop that specializes in just what I'm trying to learn how to do. They were super helpful, not in the least judgmental for my lo-fi needs, and offered the advice I needed to get around the little hitches that probably would have frustrated me as I negotiated the learning curve. Mom 'n Pop all the way.

So, I got home, unpacked my stuff, got some basics figured out, and recorded a very simple song just as a way to work out the details. It was really, really easy. In the next half-hour, I imported a beat I'd programmed for an earlier song idea, laid down a bass track and two guitar tracks, and with a little mixing, I had "Seven" (1.5MB MP3).

Please spare me the Black Sabbath comparisons. Yeah, it's sorta like "Paranoid," I know. I "wrote" and recorded it in a half-hour, come on.

Utterly incredible.

Saw Hey Mercedes last night, who were solid as ever. I felt a tad old, though. Headliners The Early November drew in a really young crowd that, I dare say, knew not their rock ass from their rock elbow.

I did, however, notice that one of my fellow aging indie rockers at the show was Mr. J Robbins of Jawbox/Burning Airlines/Government Issue fame, who knows his rock anatomy better than Leonardo motherfucking Da Vinci. We chatted for a little while. Not to be a total fanboy (which I obviously am anyway), but that was a real honor; he's another all-time guitar hero of mine, even though I can't touch his skills with a 72-foot piece of bamboo. We drank a beer, talked about how awesome a drummer Derren Zentek is, I shook his hand about 31 times, and then I left, all psyched. That was cool.

Man, the East Coast leg of this year's Plea for Peace tour includes Cursive, Darkest Hour and Denali. You east-siders are lucky.

The members of Metallica and filmmakers Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky taking questions after the show

I got a reserve ticket to the special SF screening of Some Kind of Monster, a new documentary about Metallica by Bruce Sinofsky and Joe Berlinger. The band and filmmakers were there, with a cadre of other rockstars and the like. I sat next to skate legend Steve Caballero. Some glammed-out rich-dude rockers were sitting in front of me; I think they may have been in Linkin Park (otherwise known as Depeche Mode with guitars -- seriously -- do a side-by-side comparison).

Anyway, the movie was outstanding. It started out as a relatively straightforward documentary project about the recording of their new album. It so happened that at that time (2001), the band was on incredibly shaky ground, facing a fan backlash over Lars' effectively shutting down Napster and the departure of bassist Jason Newsted, and during filming the documentary's focus (thankfully) shifted from a Metallica promo shill to a raw, honest look at a multimillion-dollar entity facing the reality that, well... they suck.

Not that Metallica also doesn't (or didn't) totally rule -- they did. But no more. Their songwriting is in the shitcan, and it's mainly because frontman James Hetfield just doesn't have the Rock in him anymore. The movie doesn't really go into details about this, but I know that Hetfield used to sit on his own and record riff after killer riff, then he and drummer Lars Ulrich would arrange the riffs into songs, and Newsted (or Cliff Burton) and Hammett (or Mustaine, I guess) would add their color. Their songs were epic and had awesome hooks, melodies and structure. They were really, really good.

But along the way, they totally lost it, and props to them for allowing the documentarians to be true to their craft and tell a story as it was. True -- by the end of the film, the band had brought in bassist Robert Trujillo, and after two years, time in rehab and a dorky full-time therapist who commanded $40,000 per month, the band slapped together an album, "St. Anger." The album sucks. Hetfield barely wrote anything for it. The band descended into the pit of design by committee, and any creative type will tell you that the best way to produce a washed-out, unfocussed piece of junk is to allow everyone and their mom to comment on it. And that's what Metallica did.

They should have broken up in the 90s. They even admit in the film that their late 90s efforts "Load" and "Reload" were garbage. The members of the band are ridiculously wealthy. Metallica was the top concert draw of the 1990s, and they didn't do too bad in the 80s either. They don't need to play together. But Metallica is biiiiiiig business, and there are many, many people who make a career out of their efforts. So they press on, despite the fact that even they know that their new music is totally uninspired and weak. I would bet that if a fan gave them a demo and the music sounded as lame as Metallica's new stuff, they'd scoff and rip it out of the CD tray. But their album goes on to win a grammy. What's that tell ya?

Lately, I've been so alternately busy and burnt-out that I haven't had the time or spark to slog through the process of updating my "Hit Parade" -- it involves editing the PHP include file, leeching a bunch of album cover art from Amazon, whipping up the Amazon associates URL (which has earned me about $2.00 in the history of this site) and fixing the inevitable bugs... apologies. Here's a round-up:

Franz Ferdinand - s/t debut LP: Talking Heads meets Television meets Hot Hot Heat meets The Smiths meets Pulp meets Blur versus the Strokes in a blender with The Rapture with Joy Division thrown in and a big helping of Gang of Four and a little nod to Wire and yeah, it's pretty good, I guess.

The 101 - s/t debut EP: Damn good. Pure and simple three-chord, three-piece rock. I look forward to more from these fellows.

Denali - The Instinct: They just broke up. They were pretty much Engine Down with fantastic female vocals that make me think of Jeff Buckley and Billie Holiday. Good, not great. I think they could have polished it up and carved out a pretty good living for themselves, though. They were pretty accessible. The guys from Engine Down had to get back to their own band, I assume. Later, Denali.

Still following the saga of the currently drummer-less The Life and Times. Don't collapse, dudes. Hire Dave Grohl if you have to. Do something.

The new iTunes is a satisfying update. There are a few things that are sort of annoying, like the arrows next to every song in your Library, presumably to drive more traffic and revenue to the iTunes Music Store. Whatever, it's a business. You can turn the arrows off. The WMA support is another excellent trojan horse for the Windows users.

They appear to have finally negotiated with Foo Fighters to be included in the catalog. I've been jonesing for The Colour and the Shape, which I used to own, but have lost along the way. That album really was the best output from the band, what with the Pat Smear, Nate Mendel and William Goldsmith lineup. (Pat Smear is a super-solid rhythm guitarist. Downstrokes, baby. Nothing but downstrokes.) I've always been a sucker for 'Everlong,' of course, and 'New Way Home' is a solid outro.

CD jewel case printing and the iMix thing are nice touches. The other music services have an awful lot of catching up to do, that's for sure.

In related news, there are 21 iTunes per iPod.

It's Morrissey fever! He's back! He's getting old! He still has the greatest hair in all of rock & roll! We dorky art wankers grew up on him, but it is the Hispanic people who really love him, which is a cultural phenomenon that I'm still wrapping my head around. He has great suits. My roommate and business partner has an utterly unhealthy obsession with him. Moz is cooler than I'll ever be.

Go get 'em, Moz. King of the disillusioned.

The video for Iron and Wine's "Naked As We Came" is pretty tight: one take, simple and beautiful. I imagine that Sam Beam shot it himself, what with his being a cinematography teacher at a Florida community college.

My East Coast peeps: Do yourself a favor and catch one of Mastodon's upcoming shows. I've seen many a great band, but their set destroyed me like I have been seldom destroyed.

Also, a short list of all-time jaw-dropping "holy SHIT"-inducing shows, in rough chronological order:

• Fugazi at the Chameleon, Lancaster PA, 1989 (actually every single Fugazi show I've seen (probably 8 times) has left me utterly awe-inspired. They are #1 of all time.)
• Don Caballero at the VFW, State College PA, circa 1992
• Lincoln at the VFW, State College PA, circa 1992
• Any time T4 or Donora played ever, which would have been in various places in State College, PA in the early '90s. Watching Darren play drums is like watching Mark Gonzales skate.
• The Muffs at the Khyber Pass, Philadelphia PA, 1994 -- I'm sad to say that The Muffs and Jawbox are the only two bands in my list with a female presence. Oh wait, Lincoln too. Three.
• Guided By Voices at the Crowbar, State College PA, 1995
• Jawbox and Shiner at Bottom of the Hill, SF CA, 1996
• Chavez at Bottom of the Hill, SF CA, 1997 or 1998
• Shiner at Bottom of the Hill (their final tour), SF CA, 2002
• Leatherface at Bottom of the Hill, SF CA, 2002 -- one of the most honest shows I've ever seen
• Deftones at Shoreline Amphitheater (yes, they were THAT good, I'm not ashamed), Palo Alto CA, 2003
• Mastodon at Bottom of the Hill, SF CA, 2004

I never got to see Quicksand in their early years, Sunny Day Real Estate in their early years, Nirvana before they blew up, or Drive Like Jehu -- but from all accounts those shows would have been on my list.

Your all-time greatest? Let's get a list going.

Caught the Braid reunion last night. As expected, they were excellent. It made me feel slightly old, what with my impending 31st birthday, but at least they rocked.

In 2001 Pitchfork ran an interview with J Robbins in which he said:

I think I've always been extremely conscious of the kind of empowerment that comes from realizing that you're in a position to express yourself. And the fact is that-- and this is the thing about punk rock-- that everyone is in a position to create culture, and that point has never been lost on me.

Indeed. It has not been lost on me, either. It drives me every day. And that's what made the Braid reunion sappily important to me. Despite the air of capitalization at the show (there's a recently-released Braid retrospective DVD for sale at the merch table), it reminded me that Braid is profoundly a product of a culture that they themselves helped to shape. Indie rock's 1990s sweet spot was a good time for creativity in music. These days, all you need is a couple of good hooks and nice hair. And hell, that's OK too. The ebb and the flow.

To my Bay Area people: my roommate/Infantile partner/regular cohort Craig and I will be DJing this Friday, July 23, at the Casanova Lounge in San Francisco.

Craig, true to his obsessive nature, has gone on a vinyl-buying binge and will be debuting his set of 100% English alt-rock from the 80s and 90s (with a little bit of 70s glam thrown in for good measure). I, true to my indie geek nature, will be providing laptop computer-based rock counterpoint with indie, hardcore, alternative, punk, garage rock and metal from all eras.

Being a so-called "MP3J" has its interesting points. People are generally pretty interested that I'm not playing CDs or records and I field a lot of questions about my rig. Occasionally I get some purist snobbery that it's not "DJing" if it's not vinyl, to which I reply: I'm not a friggin' DJ. I'm playing music. I have over 800 albums' worth of high-bitrate (192+Kbps MP3/MP4) digital music on my laptop, and damn if I'll be lugging around that quantity of heavy vinyl, nor am I interested in re-purchasing any of this stuff in platter format. Half the "DJs" in this town play CDs anyway, and to my mind there is little difference (other than a near-imperceptible sound quality difference) between a digital WAV file stored on a CD versus a digital MP3/AAC file stored on my hard drive. So, get used to it, ye naysayers.

I want one of these, in black. Or, if I had money dripping out of my pores, one of these.

Here's a development: after a long period of not rocking to my full potential, I have joined a rock and roll band. Last week I was asked to try out as the bassist for a San Francisco band called Chinese Radio, and my audition was tonight. I was really nervous. I'd learned a few of the songs, but I was still thinking that I'd suck or totally drop the ball.

Well, I guess I neither sucked nor dropped the ball, because the guys were really psyched and they asked me if I wanted the job. They'd been trying out bass players since their original bassist moved away from San Francisco last January, which somewhat boggles my mind... but I'm not going to overthink it.

Anyway, I'm still reeling and my ears are ringing. Now that I'm in it, Chinese Radio is a power trio. The music is loud, fast, melodic rock very much in the vein of Husker Du, old Jawbreaker, Archers of Loaf or The Replacements. Dan (the drummer) is very good and hits hard, and Chris (gtr/vox) can write a good rock song. They're psyched, I'm psyched... we're practicing three times per week and we're already planning to start playing out in about six weeks. It's quite sudden! Crazy.

I whipped together a site for the band this weekend, thanks to some photos that Craig took. Way to go Craig, way to go band. Here it is, linked up for maximum Google page rankin': Chinese Radio. We don't exactly have a gaggle of content yet (shows, etc.), but you get the idea. Now all your questions can be answered.

Funny how some venue's booking people do NOT want bands to send CDs and stuff in the mail -- they only want web sites with MP3s. Others are like, "send your band's material via US Mail to this address..." So, we cover the bases. Or basses, in my case. Sorry. Long weekend.

2004 seems to be a rather slow year for music, but I'm gleaning a few gems from the rubble:

»The Stella Link: I can't ever get enough of the thick Kansas City hard rock sound. Love it, love it, love it. Dig their "Winner Takes All" MP3.

»Mastodon: I have a copy of Leviathan and it's pretty friggin' perfect, as far as I'm concerned. I don't claim to know everything about metal, but I do know songwriting, and these guys kill it. KILL IT. God damn.

»The Muffs, whom I love, have finally released a new record, Really, Really Happy. The title says it all. Kim got married and her subject matter has definitely taken a positive turn. They recorded everything but the drums in Kim's kitchen, too. Gotta love that.

I just picked up the new Neurosis and Hard Place records, but I haven't had a chance to listen yet.

Anything else?

Les Savy Fav's Tim Harrington 86'ed from casino for lewd conduct. So, so great. The particular casino from which he was ejected is the one with the huge waving cowboy sign, which makes it even better.

Johnny Ramone has died at age 55, after a battle with prostate cancer. He and Dee Dee founded the Ramones in 1974. Probably more than any of his peers, Johnny showed us that you don't have to be a good guitar player to be a great guitar player. Thanks for that.

Catch Ramones: End of the Century, if you can. Fascinating and heart-wrenching.

No way, Channels will be playing at Bottom of the Hill here in SF on October 26! It'll be good to see them.

I must say that I'm meeting the new Explosion release with a bit of skepticism. And that's a bummer -- I think the Explosion really, really rocks. They've made the switch from uber-indie Jade Tree to the major-labels, via Virgin -- and I fear that somebody's making them water down their sound for the sake of sales.

Then again, maybe they've just developed a way more accessible sound on their own. Either way, the new single "Here I Am" has "MTV" virtually branded onto its forehead.

Meanwhile, "Summer Away," the new freely-downloadable single from Aloha is pretty much making me smash my forehead onto my desk each of the 11 times per day that I listen to it, which is my way of saying that it fucking rules. As Avery said, "why are they so good?"

While I'm on the new music kick, Epitaph Records is offering two downloads of Elliott Smith tracks from his final record, From a Basement On The Hill. What a loss.

I like The 101. It's Eric Richter's new band, and it doesn't sound anything like the emo blueprint of Christie Front Drive or the epic shoegazing of Antarctica. It's simple rock and roll: Buffalo Tom, GBV, Beatles. Here's an MP3 from their upcoming LP.

To my SF people: my band, Chinese Radio is playing tomorrow, Wednesday October 13, at 12 Galaxies in San Francisco:

12 Galaxies, Misson/22nd in SF
21 and over, $6, 9:00pm
- The Naysayers
- National Dust
- Chinese Radio

We're playing first, so don't be late. Hope to see you there.

Over at the Chinese Radio camp, we got the masters done and our EP Forever Mistake Witness is at Furnace getting manufactured. In the spirit of open-sourcery, we're offering the entire EP as free downloads. Share 'em, trade 'em, P2P 'em, mash 'em up with hip hop, we don't care. Uh, just don't sell 'em, I guess.

Chinese Radio: Forever Mistake Witness

Saw Channels last night. It was great to see Darren, and their set was really good, but there was nobody at the show. Like, 20 people at the end of the set. Ouch. Seems like all the Jawbox fans are all grown up and aren't making it out to many shows anymore. Or something. Maybe they were across town seeing Har Mar. Either way, I hope the remaining Channels dates are better-attended.

We're hanging in a café in Seattle right now. The van is rocking better than ever, amazingly. We dodged such a bullet there. Tacoma show tonight.

Saw Robbers on High Street open for The Dears last night. Robbers were good, but man, they are Spoonier than a silverware drawer. I used to not particularly like the Robbers, thinking that they were just biting the Spoon sound, but after seeing them last night, I gained at least a modicum of appreciation for them -- like, they're not necessarily biting Britt Daniel so much as they're similarly influenced. They were solid, for sure. Very strong songwriting. Still, I'll take Spoon any day.

Yay, Aloha is touring! But no California dates, alas.

Stop into a Seattle café to hop on their WiFi and check emails, ask the indie rocker guy working there if he knows where a venue is, say "yeah we're a band from San Francisco," hand him a CD, get a great review on indieworkshop.com. Cool!

The Evens, at the Swedish American Hall. Impressive.

It was good to see Mastodon last night. They're blowing up. Selfishly speaking, it sucks for me that I won't be able to catch them in intimate venues like Bottom of the Hill anymore -- their show there last year still ranks among the best shows I've ever seen, and I've seen a lot. But despite a bigger crowd, more knuckleheads and fighting, and looser house sound (even after they cleaned up the mix a few songs into the set), Mastodon still rules. Amazing talent, there.

My own not-quite-as-skilled rock outfit hits the road tomorrow for a short stint. I'll try to be good about posting photos and tour logs. Pardon the dust around here as I recuperate from the comment disaster.

Thu 4/7/05: Los Angeles, CA: The Scene
Fri 4/8/05: San Diego, CA: Scolari's Office
Sat 4/9/05: Tijuana, MX: Voodoo House
Sun 4/10/05: Las Vegas, NV: New York Café

I'm in some janky café in San Diego right now. We're gearing up for our gig tonight at Scolari's Office, which is, in our band parlance, a "doo doo hole." We've learned that the venue's drink policy is that the bands can drink whatever they want, as much as they want -- but only during their set. Interesting, for sure. We're playing with a few good bands, including fellow San Franciscans Teenage Harlets. Should be fun.

Last night's gig in LA (Glendale, actually) was pretty solid, if thinly attended -- not that we can expect a big draw in foreign cities. A few friends came out, including a surprise visit from Matthew B, which was cool. We played a solid set and headed back for nightcaps in Silverlake. I'm videotaping all our shows, so expect some footage in the next few days.

Off to the doo doo hole. More updates soon.

Tijuana makes Deadwood look like Disneyland. Lawless. Insane. It's a good thing our van is a piece of shit or we would have been jacked for sure. The show was pretty fun, though. It was more like a punk rock community event than a show, really. Most of the bands used the same (really bad, cheap) amps, all the bands used the same drums, and most of the bands were pretty bad. But it was really cool. I don't know how soon I'd do it again, though.

We made the grueling drive through the desert to get to Vegas, and were rewarded with a free upgrade to a suite, where I am right now, sitting at the bar surfing our blazing, strong WiFi. Killer! Let the games begin.

Sometimes you take Vegas and sometimes Vegas takes you, and this time I took Vegas for it's freakin' papers.

We drove all the way through the desert to Las Vegas, which took about seven hours since the van had to crawl over the Sierra in third gear. We'd pissed off a bunch of motorcyclists at one of the only name-brand gas stations along the way when the van's tank overflowed and spilled gas everywhere. It always does that. We arrived wearily to Sin City, the van coated in dead bugs, but we were ready for a good time, as our show coincided with our friends Donovan and Shauna's wedding. We had a built-in crowd in a foreign town, which any touring band will tell you is a great thing.

Luckily we got a free room upgrade, to a suite, so we were feeling pretty rock star-ish. That feeling wouldn't last. When we arrived at the venue -- and I use that term very loosely -- our spirits were soon dashed. The place was a total loser bar. No stage, no mics, and worst of all, their guy who books bands had no idea we were set to play there that night. He was also plastered drunk. I had to go sit in the van for a spell and keep myself from blowing my top.

We had about fifteen friends on the way to a shitty bar where we wouldn't normally hang out, let alone rock out, the booker was wasted and had a DJ already setting up his gear, and generally things were looking pretty bleak for Chinese Radio. At that moment I had a flash of inspiration: the place where a band like us should play in Las Vegas is the Double Down Saloon, and I decided that we were going to try to play there instead. Major, major long shot, but worth a try.

Dan and I loaded into the van and left Chris behind to hold down the fort. After driving around in a few circles, we found the Double Down and approached the huge, intimidating biker guy who was running the door. He looked like Paul Teutel from American Chopper. As he was checking our IDs, he saw we were from SF and said there were a few bands from San Francisco playing there that night. I raised my eyebrow, figuring now was my chance, and I threw it out there:

"Yeah, um. See, we're a band from San Francisco, and we're on tour, and our Vegas show fell through, and... well, we were wondering if there's any chance that we could play here tonight."

He actually did not throw me out on the spot, surprisingly. The deal was, the band from San Francisco that he'd mentioned was in fact Tim Alexander from Primus' new project. The bouncer told me flat out that our chances were extremely slim, but if we wanted to give it a shot, Tim was hanging out in his car. Since Dan counts Tim as one of his drummer heroes, I threw the ball to him.

We knocked on the the car's window, it rolled down, and there he was. The dude from Primus. I think Dan audibly gasped. Once again:

"Hey Tim... um. We're a band from San Francisco on tour, and our show fell through and we were wondering if it'd be cool with you if we blasted out a quick set tonight."

And then, to our amazement, Tim said, "of course you can."

We stood there slack-jawed. We thanked him about thirty times each, then we went into the frenzy of getting everyone to the Double Down as fast as possible. I re-approached the bouncer guy and told him it was cool with Tim.

"You ain't getting paid," he shot back. "We'll give you five songs. If it goes over, we'll give you a few more." Fine with us. We were psyched. The Double Down was packed.

About a half hour later, it was our time. And we KILLED IT. Probably our best show ever. After every song, the place ERUPTED. It was super, super cool. The big bouncer man (who is the floor manager, I learned) not only called for more songs after our trial five, but he pulled me aside after the show, pretty much demanding that I email them immediately to set up a weekend show. Sure, OK.

Triumphant, redeemed, we left the Double Down to go party in Vegas. I went out and got my ass handed to me in blackjack, only to make it back in roulette, hitting my lucky number 17 five times in one sitting. Not too shabby.

BONUS: Here's some pretty poor-quality footage of us playing in LA. It's the intro thing we do and two songs, "A Letter" and "Could Get Burned." Enjoy. (QuickTime required.)

In my opinion, the aforementioned Ampeg SVT is the gold standard of rock bass rigs. It's the amp historically employed by everyone from The Ramones to The Stones. They are not cheap, and procuring mine has been a real saga:

My previous rig was actually my bandmate's Gallien-Krueger 800RB, a respectable amp in its own right, but a little bit tonally thin and cold for my taste. I needed the warmth that only vacuum tubes can give. After religiously watching Craigslist, I found an SVT-CL for sale. The amp, probably an early 90s model, was in great shape and the guy selling it seemed very much on the level. So, I bought it. Even plugging into my original 4x10 speaker cabinet was like a night and day change. It sounded amazing -- rich, thick tone and tons of punch in the middle register, where the GK800RB tended to get thin. I dialed up the gain a little bit for some natural tube crunch, and all three of us were grinning wickedly. Time to find its counterpart, the huge 8x10 SVT cabinet.

Wallet aching, I begrudgingly headed to Guitar Center, the pit of all human existence, to buy a brand-new 8x10. Twenty minutes and just into the four-digits later, I had a 160-pound box in the back of our van and I was excited to hook that bastard up. I lugged the beast into our studio, plugged it in and was immediately impressed. My rig was complete -- or so I thought.

After two songs, my amplifier blew out. It crackled a few times in despair, then went silent. I started to freak out -- did I mismatch the impedance of the cabinet to the head? Nope, 4 ohms. Check. WTF? The amp had been fine with the old cabinets. So, either coincidence is not on my side, or the cabinet is defective and somehow pulled more current out of the head than it wanted to give up. I suspect the former, specifically a blown transformer -- at least that's what it sounds like to me. Or what I want to believe, take your pick.

So, it's off to the amp repair guy, which I'm sure will run me another $300 to fix. Tube amps. Gotta love 'em.

Gift show by day, freelance late into the night. Hopping a flight tomorrow to NYC where my likeness will be captured on videotape, coming to a cable network (or two) near you. The mind reels, yes it does.

In other news: I couldn't wait until Tuesday to buy it at their show, so I went ahead and bought the new Life and Times LP on iTunes today. It's keeping me in warm company these late hours with its signature Epley weight, gigantor arrangements, and even a dash of "War"-era U2 thrown in (TLAT's "Coat of Arms" pretty much directly references U2's "Like A Song..."). Works for me.

Hey, they even have a video! Loaded a little slow for me, but pause it and give it a few minutes to catch up and you should be fine. A solid representation of the band: no-frills, technical.

Blake S. on myspace: http://www.myspace.com/distantwizard

Punk News interviewed our good friends Push to Talk today. Those guys are great.

Whoa, Ampeg is re-issuing the bass head that started it all. For $2000. Daaaaaaaamn.

As far as I'm concerned, the only amps that compare are the SVT-CL (the modern version of the classic SVT head, which I have, and love) and the Mesa/Boogie Bass 400+.

Between work and the band, I've hardly had a second to do much of anything else in the last few weeks, but over the past couple days I've made up for it:

Factotum: As a fan of Bukowski, I was a bit let down by this adaptation. Matt Dillon was a very good Chinaski, but maybe a little too "pretty." They shot the movie not in a gritty 1970s Los Angeles, but in modern day Minneapolis, of all settings. I could overlook those nitpicks, but for me the killing blow for the movie was its failure to capture Bukowski's wit -- the boozing and women are pretty easy to get across on film, but Buk's knack for simple, offhand humor just didn't surface for me. Oh well. Get it on Netflix when it comes out.

Jackass 2: I haven't laughed so hard in a theater since the first one.

Mastodon: Holy shit, they are good. I don't think I'll ever see them top their Bottom of the Hill show from a few years ago, but that was largely a product of the intimacy of the smaller venue. They were certainly better than the last time I saw them at Slim's, without the dumb stage banners and bad sound holding them back. The house mix was way better (maybe they tour with a sound person now?), and those dudes can play the shit out of their instruments. It was reassuring for me to see that they still suffer the same problems that we mere mortal bands do, though -- they actually got completely lost during their finale rock-out and their drummer had to break out of his insane off-time beat to get them back on track, which is exactly what we do when we get in the same situation. I don't think most people in the audience noticed.

The Ramones do "Blitzkrieg Bop" at CBGB in '77. No other band was so great and so terrible. Check out Tommy Ramone just tapping the drums. I honestly think that I could play better than that. Conversely, Johnny Ramone's double Marshall stack is like porn for gear geeks.

J. Robbins is one of my all-time rock heroes. His approach to music has been a massive influence on my own musical outlook, and it's fair to say that hard guitar-driven indie rock would not sound as it does today without his many contributions. Tragically, he and his wife Janet Morgan have learned that their new son Callum has Type 1 Spinal Muscular Atrophy, an extremely debilitating and potentially fatal motor neuron disease.

Health care being what it is in the United States, especially for the hard-working, self-employed musician/music producer, the Robbins family will need all the help they can get to provide Callum with the best treatment and quality of life. Please hold them in your thoughts this holiday season.