Eccentric country duo the Handsome Family have another brilliant album due to drop shortly. Last Days Of Wonder will be released in the U.S. by Carrot Top on June 13 (in Europe it comes out May 29), and as the lucky holder of an advance copy, I assure you it is among the finest work in their already superlative catalog. Seriously. The disc opens with the lines “Like four million tons of hydrogen exploding on the sun/Like the whisper of the termites building castles in the dust.” (Note to lyricist Rennie Sparks: Why not “beetles building castles in the dung”? Or am I an imbecile who stoops to the obvious?) And Brett’s voice sounds especially mellifluous this time out, particularly on the three tracks featuring vocal harmonies by his brother Darrell.

What to do while you’re waiting for the release of this fine, fine album? Why not commission Rennie to paint a portrait of your pet? I’ve visited the Handsome Family homestead in Albuquerque, NM, and I can heartily endorse the high quality of the finished products—I mean, artwork.

Alternately, you might like to spend a few minutes perusing Rennie’s guest editorial contributions to this website of anonymous love letters.

Keith Richards took a nasty fall out of a coconut tree in Fiji, the BBC reports, and is recovering from his injuries in a New Zealand hospital.

What the 62-year-old guitarist was doing on a coconut tree remains unanswered at the moment.

Back in seventh or eighth grade, growing up in Nowhere, VA, I remember my friend and punk rock-mentor Laura S. telling me about the second album by Johnny Lydon (né Rotten) and his cohorts in Public Image Ltd., Metal Box. It came packaged as three 12-inch, 45 RPM discs nestled in a film canister, she said, and was (allegedly) nigh impossible to open without scratching at least one disc. (The packaging was, among other things, a sly homage to German musical innovators Can.) This experimental punk-dub touchstone was subsequently repackaged as the simple gatefold double-LP Second Edition, and original copies of Metal Box now fetch anywhere from $50 to $200 on gemm.com. Well, lo and behold, on June 27 the vinyl version is being reissued (via Runt Distribution’s excellent 4 Men With Beards label)… in the original metal box.

Hooray! Because the only thing geekier than being an obsessive record collector (and I say that as a proud one myself) is an obsessive record collector with a fetish for esoteric design and packaging.

Yesterday afternoon I got myself to the Experience Music Project for part of the first full day of the 2006 Pop Conference. I couldn’t stick around for as long as I would’ve liked, but the time I spent there was dreamy. This year’s thesis question—“What forces are at work when we like something we ‘shouldn’t’?”—is dear to my heart (my first play was about my tortured obsession with the art of then-homophobe-du-jour Axl Rose) and the gang of artists and writers EMP’s corralled to discuss the theme is impressive. Strolling around yesterday was like going to pointy-headed music heaven, with a parade of people sporting nametags I recognized from bylines (Blender guy! Spin girl!) and the previous night’s keynote speaker Stephin Merritt hanging out in the cafe. (As anyone who’s been exposed to my Stranger writing is aware, I love Stephin Merritt. However, there’s no denying that he bears a strong resemblance to David Sedaris. They’re both brilliant and hilarious and gay, and they both chain-smoke. Has anyone ever seen them in the same room, at the same time?)

Back to the conference: I attended the 4pm panel “Aural Correctness,” featuring one of my favorite living writers, Robert Christgau, who’s been hashing through the minutia of contentious art for decades (from Johnny Rotten to Professor Griff to Marshall Mathers) and who yesterday took on the crack-happy new strain of gangsta rap, as produced by Young Jeezy, L’il Wayne, and the Oscar-winning Three-Six Mafia. It was deeply entertaining, and surprisingly emotional: Recounting preparations for his father’s funeral, the crusty old Dean choked up a bit. It was a lovely thing to see, especially in the middle of a high-minded, equivocal paean to crack-slingin,’ bitch-slappin’ gangsta rap.

However, the definitive Christgau moment came seconds after his introduction by moderator RJ Smith, who praised him for “making the Village Voice what it is.”

“What it was,” Christgau growled, to applause.

The EMP Pop Conference continues through tomorrow at Seattle Center.

Junior Brown is playing at the Crocodile tonight! This is truly exciting. You see, Junior Brown plays the guit-steel, a guitar that did not exist until the idea came to him one night in a dream. It’s a double-neck guitar, but while one neck is the standard six-string, the other neck is a steel guitar! Fuck yes. You can’t get better than a steel guitar, in my opinion. He really rocks out on this thing. It’s just great. I wouldn’t miss this show for the world… except it costs $28, and, unfortunately, that’s just too damn much for me. However, those of you with a love for honky-tonk and rock ’n’ roll, and with an extra $28 in your pocket, should by all means go.

As I am a fourth-generation Chicano, when I first read about “Nuestro Himno” and went through its Spanish lyrics, my interest was piqued, and I thought Finally—something distinctly American under which the various Latino sub-cultures in this nation can unite. The lyrics, while only mildly poetic, are nonetheless impactful and clean enough, considering they are poetically approximated from the English.

Now I’ve heard the actual recording. And I hate it, though this has nothing to do with it being in Spanish or adopted by Spanish-language radio stations. Gone is the majesty of the traditional interpretation. No rich harmonies or blasts of brass or rap of determined percussion. The song is a frothy showcase of layer on layer of indulgent improvisational vocal melismas, with the grand and simple melody only lightly sketched. The castanets and dribbles of guitar would make it a lullaby if it weren’t for the synthesized and MIDI-triggered flailings of the ending.

Imagine instead a more traditional version of the song sung acappella by scores of Latino Americans—our proud, broad vowels ringing through the streets of Seattle, New York, Los Angeles, and Houston. Only then—when we sound the anthem from our own mouths—can this truly be “Nuestro Himno.”

The power of “The Star Spangled Banner” is almost entirely musical, afterall. For those Americans who even know the English lyrics, the only words in the main verse that are pertinent to the principles of our nation are in the last stanza (“… the land of the free and the home of the brave.”). The rest is dedicated to a symbol that (let’s not pretend here) isn’t nearly as sacrosanct as it was two hundred years ago. No, it is the rhythmic impulse and the stepwise chord movement—open, rugged and natural as the American landscape—that make our national anthem work. The American spirit is in the music, and that spirit was not abandoned even by Hendrix’s version, the which contained (musically speaking) a measure of the struggle and freedom to which the musician Pitbull speaks in the Houston Chronicle article.

When that spirit and those rhythms and harmonies are abandoned for the banalities of Fruity Loops-produced pop, what is left is something altogether un-American—something that does not endure and does not take part in the divine dialogue with the Universal under which these States were federated.

For those of you who can read music (or at least get the general idea), you can click here view an old sheet music printing “The Star-Spangled Banner” in a mostly unadorned arrangement. It only makes sense that the music should be this severe; the tune of our anthem was originally a drinking song. If you’ve ever done karaoke drunk before, you’ll already know: the fewer notes, the better.

Australian band Glovebox will be playing Silver Platters Saturday April 29 at 4 pm, not 5 as noted in this week’s Data Breaker.
Here’s the blurb:

Fronted by saucy songstress Mishka, Australian quartet GloveboX peddle extroverted electronic pop that could segue smoothly with Brazilian Girls, Hot Chip, and VHS or Beta tracks at some beachside soiree. GloveboX’s self-titled debut’s a frothy trifle that has enough fuzz-toned guitars to rope in rock fans who aren’t reflexively dance-club phobic. With Voyager One, Climber. High Dive, 513 N 36th St, 632-0212, 10 pm–2 am, $6, 21+; also at Silver Platters, 9560 First Ave NE, 524-3472, 4 pm, free.

According to this week’s Us Magazine, Britney Spears IS pregnant with baby Sean Preston’s little brother or sister. She’s said to be four months along and due October 2nd or 3rd.

God save us all.

My mother recently asked me why there weren’t more rock artists writing anti-war anthems these days. She has a point—aside from Green Day’s American Idiot, Barsuk’s Future Soundtrack for America and the Rock Against Bush compilations, there hasn’t been as much noise from the music community as I would have expected (perhaps it’s all being written in basement practice spaces right now). However, leave it to Neil Young to document his unsurprising opposition to the war. It’s called Living WIth War and it’s currently streaming here. Even non-rocking Mr. Savage will surely appreciate songs titles like “Let’s Impeach the President.”

NPR just did a great piece on the Spanish version of the national anthem that is getting widespread airplay on Spanish radio stations. The translation, which includes contributions from Wyclef Jean and Pitbull, has been adopted as the signature song for the immigrant rights’ movement. Along with Bush, conservative talk radio host Frances Key Howard (a distant grandson of the song’s composer, Francis Scott Key) is already denouncing it. The reporter astutely points out that this is not the first time “The Star-Spangled Banner” has been reinterpreted for dramatic political effect (a moment in music history I truly wish I had witnessed).

I wrote about it in this week’s Underage column, but I didn’t want anyone to forget that there’s a great benefit show at Neumo’s on Sunday with the Ruby Doe, Bullet Club, and the Senate Arcade. The show will raise money for a new, 10,000-square-foot skatepark to be built in the South Park neighborhood.

Grindline is designing the park (see all the awesome work they’ve done across the country on their website, www.grindline.com), and construction is set to begin in June. The goal is to have it open this time next year. More info about River City Skatepark is available at their website, www.rivercityskatepark.com. Sunday’s show starts at 7 pm and costs $8 at the door. It’s all ages.

It’s funny: Ice Cube’s art is largely based in humor, yet I’ve noticed many of his fans lack that important quality.

Samuel L. Chesneau, The Stranger’s hiphop columnist from 2003-2004, has voiced his displeasure with this week’s article on Ice Cube, “Rhyme Pays—Again.”

The travesty of your article on a hiphop legend Ice Cube was a disgrace. I’m seriously offended at Mr. Bruce’s poorly written article when you have other more qualified writers available to do an objective piece. Since Jennifer [Maerz] left the music department is a fucking joke, please stop unqualified writers from thinking because they snorted a few lines with a dealer that rocks a pair of Bapes sneakers and a Goods hoody that they actually know something about our culture that the Stranger continues to exploit and sugar coat for the Capitol Hill audience. You have qualified writers on your staff (even former staff) at your disposal, use them and keep these clowns from writing about our community and culture.

The first sentence amply demonstrates Chesneau’s dubious grasp of the English language. Later, Chesneau makes the common and misguided assumption that Stranger writers do blow;. I don’t know why this perception exists, but for the record, I hate the stuff and so did former music editor Jennifer Maerz. (Furthermore, Shaun Bruce, the author of the Cube piece, lives in Austin, Texas and doesn’t know Capitol Hill from Phinney Ridge.)

Then this self-appointed defender of hiphop’s honor has the nerve to say, “You have qualified writers on your staff (even former staff) at your disposal…” Sam, you got canned because your work ethic was lackadaisical at best and your prose dull. Your bitterness is as unbecoming as your writing.

For those who want a more reverent take on Ice Cube, check out Larry Mizell Jr.’s My Philosophy column. I informed Mr. Mizell that we would be publishing a humorous piece on Ice Cube and that he was free to weigh in how he wished. Next time Cube plays Seattle, I’ll run a sober, hyper-analytical critique of his distinctive use of metaphor and simile. Then y’all can slam us for taking the man too seriously.

Ice Cube’s a phenomenal rapper, an occasionally inspired actor, and one of the funniest guys ever to spit into a mic. Let’s be frank: he’s talented, but not flawless, and he’s not above some good-natured ribbing. The puzzling thing is, for such a witty individual, he sure draws his share of woefully humor-deficient fans.

Watching the slow, staggering demise of Pete Doherty has been infuriating and heartbreaking.

I saw the Libertines at the Croc in 2003, and it was one of the most transcendent shows I’ve ever seen. (I wrote about it for The Stranger here.)

Even back then, Doherty was living on the edge of the edge, but who would’ve guessed how bad it would get? Or that he would survive long enough to make sure things got worse and worse?

Stunning new low: The photos of Doherty apparently injecting drugs into an unconscious female lying on the floor of his flat, printed in today’s The Sun.

This new twist won’t kill him, but it could get him sent to prison, which could kill him, or could save his life, for another few minutes.

Full story here.

Two items from IMDB:

Sony BMG Hits Back at Crowe

Music executives at Sony have hit back at Russell Crowe, insisting they never led him to believe they would offer him a record deal. The Oscar-winning actor launched a scathing attack on the record company this week, claiming they put him through a six-month “process” before passing on his band. Crowe was furious that he and his band The Ordinary Fear Of God, didn’t even manage to get a meeting with the record label bosses. A Sony spokesperson insists there were meetings and that a rejection was purely a good business decision on behalf of the company. A Sony representative says, “There have been meetings with Russell Crowe, but in regards to the quality of our large roster, we didn’t take up the opportunity.” Crowe has been touring with his band in his native New Zealand and Australia in recent months, playing gigs ranging from clubs to the recent MTV Australian Video Music Awards. The actor told a Sydney radio station that he thought the band’s performance at the MTV awards would seal the record deal with Sony. According to the Gladiator star, music executives told him, “All you’ve got to do is play that song at the MTV Awards tonight, and rock that, and you’re home and hosed.” Crowe claims a Sony representative became interested in the band last November, but the potential deal fell through just after the MTV Awards. Despite being told at a meeting he was all but assured of a contract he says, “Less than 24 hours after the meeting and a six-month process, ‘(They said) absolutely not, we would (never) think of releasing you, we have too many artists and we want to service those.’”

Snoop Released Without Charge

Rapper Snoop Dogg was released from a London police station yesterday evening after he escaped charges over a brawl in the city’s Heathrow Airport. The hip-hop star and five members of his 30-strong entourage were arrested on Wednesday on suspicion of affray and violent disorder when a fight broke out in Terminal 1’s British Airways business lounge. According to reports, the star’s entourage reacted angrily when they were turned away from the First Class lounge, where they were hoping to wait before boarding a flight to Johannesburg, South Africa. During the incident, seven police officers were injured. After spending nearly 24 hours in police custody, Snoop - real name Calvin Broadus - was released on bail from Heathrow police station, but was forced to cancel his Thursday performance at the Freedom Day celebrations in South Africa. The rapper’s attorney Peter Binning says, “Snoop has been released on bail. He will return at a later date.” Meanwhile, British Airways have banned the rapper and his associates from flying on the airline. A BA spokeswoman explains, “Given the nature of the disturbance they have been banned from traveling with BA for the foreseeable future.”

Lord knows whether this Craigslist posting has any validity, but if it does, someone could become the proud owner of one very expensive and very beat-up drum kit.

While interviewing Mon Frere over dinner at Ballet for this week’s music piece, Fall Out Boy was played three times over the course of an hour on the Top 40 radio station the restaurant was tuned in to. That got us talking a bit about music trends… that eventually turned into downright shit-talking. There wasn’t room in the article to print all of the funny bits the band said about other artists like Nick Lachey and Avril Lavigne, and even themselves, so I thought I’d post a few extra clips here for those of you wanting even more from the Mountlake Terrace trio.

On Nick Lachey
Kyle: I think Nick’s playing the divorce out just right.
Nouela: He has his own reality TV show now!
Kyle: I know. I heard that this girl I went to school with knows a girl that gave him head on Superbowl Sunday or something like that… Oh, Nick Lachey…

On Britney and Kevin:
Dustin: Britney Spears is an alien.
Kyle: I watch that Kevin Federline video of him in the MTV studio all the time. Have you seen that!? It’s so good. The song is called is called “PopoZao,” he’s starting to get into it, but then he starts full on dancing, but he’s sitting down.

On Avril Lavgine:
Dustin: She’s got nice hair.
Kyle: Well put!
Nouela: Yeah, she has great hair. She has a nice asscrack, seen it a lot.
Dustin: Isn’t she like, 12?

On Sum 41
Nouela: I met Sun 41 once.
Megan: Were they assholes?
Nouela: No! They were surprisingly very nice.
Kyle: Because they’re Canadian.

On their song “Clever Boi”
Nouela: Can we talk about the spelling of “Clever Boi” on our album? It’s “B-O-I” cause I thought it’d be funny. But no one else thinks it’s funny, they just think it’s retarded. It was supposed to be a joke.
Kyle: If Avril Lavigne can do it, why can’t we?

On each other
Dustin: Nouela was making fun of me yesterday for wearing fangs at the merch table. (Mon Frere gives out free vampire fangs at their shows.)
Nouela: I make fun of you for everything, you can’t just call out one thing… you were skanking to Speaker Speaker, I didn’t say anything then!
Dustin: I was trying to get kids to dance! They were just standing there!

Stranger contributors Kurt B. Reighley (left) and Matt Corwine

This year’s theme is “guilty pleasures” — or, in crit-speak, “Loving Music in the Shadow of Doubt.”

Doubt casts long shadows over music criticism. Think about it: “guilty pleasures” imply that not all pleasure is guiltless. For people who have taken it upon themselves to be full-time guardians and historians of rock music, I suppose your approved guiltless pleasures would be listening to Yo La Tengo and reading Pitchfork. Everything else is up for debate.

Well, the debate starts tonight, and by God we are going to get this shit settled by Sunday, no matter who gets hurt.

At 2:00 on Saturday, long-time Stranger contributor and Border Radio columnist Kurt B. Reighley will put on his tweed blazer and tell you about the sophisticated schmaltz of the Hi-Los. At 11:00 on Sunday, I will school you on the total awesomeness of the Super Mario Bros. theme.

Appearing alongside us are lesser music industry figures like Stephin Merritt of the Magnetic Fields, Drew Daniel of Matmos and Soft Pink Truth, and some guy called Robert Christgau.

Abstracts for our talks after the jump.

Kurt Reighley

Cringeworthy
Saturday, April 29, 2006, 2:00 - 3:45

Abstract:

“Up & Down with Hi-Lo’s”

Visually, the Hi-Lo’s epitomized Eisenhower Era showbiz: Crew cuts, matching suits, gleaming smiles. From 1952 to the early ’60s, these four neat guys from Los Angeles never changed their image; the Kingston Trio looked like hoodlums by comparison. Consequently, the pop vocal quartet was deemed “safe” for the airwaves (especially television) - but far too square for acceptance from serious jazz critics, who preferred to laud Mel Tormé and the sound-alike Mel-Tones.

Yet the Hi-Lo’s flaunted convention every time they performed; their own label boss, notorious Columbia Records schlock-meister Mitch Miller, derided their work as too complex. Member Gene Puerling’s startling arrangements of standards – filled with complex rhythms, dissonant harmonies, and huge vocal leaps – married the eerie precision of European serialist composition to the unbridled zaniness of Warner Bros. cartoons. Like great opera singers, the Hi-Lo’s were acrobats of the highest order, routinely tricking their voices into defying the body’s assumed limitations.

Brian Wilson is hailed as one of rock’s greatest innovators. The Mamas & the Papas scored a dozen hits. Thirty years after the Free Design disbanded in obscurity, their tracks are staples of hipster iPods. So why is adoring the Hi-Lo’s – cited by all three of those acts as a primary influence – as rare and hopelessly geeky today as earning a varsity letter in glee club? The Hi-Lo’s didn’t just “make” music; as albums like 1962’s The Hi-Lo’s Happen to Bossa Nova attest, the Hi-Lo’s happened. So what the hell happened to the Hi-Lo’s?

Matt Corwine

Dancing with the Architecture
Sunday, April 30, 2006, 11:00 - 12:45

Abstract:

“Super Mario Jams”

Every era has its standards. Our grandparents had “Mack the Knife,” which leaped out of Kurt Weill’s 1928 Threepenny Opera and bounced from Louis Armstrong to Bobby Darin to Ella Fitzgerald before ending up as a Big Mac jingle in 1980.

Today’s orchestras, jam bands, rappers and remixers are giving the same loving treatment to the theme from Super Mario Bros., the video game about stomping turtles and eating mushrooms that made psychedelic drugs redundant for a generation of twitchy players. Koji Kondo’s original score, designed to be easy on the ears through hours of gameplay, has spawned tributes that range from honest, to ironic, to surprising, to craptacular. Classical guitarists, high school bands and the Tokyo Philharmonic draw sophistication and nuance from its deceptively simple form. Phish play a cover that veers from Stevie Wonder to Dixieland smooth jazz. Mr. Bungle pepper their drunken, sloppy version with meandering oompah freakouts. A beefy instrumental from DJ Clue drives the Coco Brovas’ “Super Brooklyn” and countless mixtape freestyles—one bootleg has Sage Francis throwing our verses about Metroid and Zelda, while MC Chris plays on its adolescent nostalgia with a naughty serenade for the game’s helpless princess.

Thanks to cheap software, ’80s nostalgia and the rise of remix culture, Super Mario Bros. has become an enduring standard of our time.

Wire’s “Mr Suit.” So damned economical (85 seconds), so damned swift, so damned righteous, so damned uplifting. Check it out on the recently reissued and great-sounding “Original Masters” version of Pink Flag on Pink Flag Records. And while you’re at it, score Wire’s classic second and third albums, Chairs Missing and 154. Look for a feature on these timeless gems in next week’s Stranger.

If it wasn’t for the re-run of the Colbert Report playing in the background as I was writing today, I wouldn’t have heard about last week’s pay-per-view séance, conducted in effort to communicate with John Lennon. What I can’t determine, however, is whether I’m struck more by the idiocy of the attempt or the insensitivity of the act.

I have been waiting months, years even, for the release of the Refused DVD Refused Are Fucking Dead. Turns out, it was quiety released yesterday, April 25! How the hell did I miss that!? The collection of live footage and interviews with the highly-influential punk band is supposed to be really amazing. Has anyone seen it yet? I’ll be going on a hunt for a copy tonight, so I’ll let you know how it is tomorrow. In the mean time, a trailer is available on their Myspace page.

Because you want to know about the synths used on the Apocalypse Now soundtrack.

For fans of world-class electronic music, late May/early June presents something of a dilemma: which festival do you hit—Detroit Electronic Music Festival (AKA Movement) or Montreal’s Mutek? (Or do you skip both and go to Barcelona for Sonar, big balla?)

The lineups for both events are strong every year (some artists play both), with Detroit leaning more toward hedonistic dance music and local talent (of which there’s plenty, young and old) and Mutek favoring more cerebral, abstract fare (though Mutek’s microhouse/minimal-techno posse sure can throw down when they want to), as well as panel discussions and seminars on new cutting-edge gear and other issues pertaining to digital music and video creation. Mutek has the advantage of being based in the beautiful city of Montreal, while Detroit has the benefit of being where my family lives, saving me money on lodging.

Looking at DEMF and Mutek’s 2006 lineups, though, it seems like the former is copping the latter’s style (Richie Hawtin, Ark, the Orb, Krikor, Superpitcher, Pantytec, Klimek, Dandy Jack, Dan Bell, Speedy J, and Alex Under? Holy shit, maybe I’ll have to go to Detroit after all). But I’ll probably end up going to Mutek for the third year in a row, because its bills are more consistently up my alley and I won’t need to drive a car to get to the venues, as I would in Detroit (doing my part for the environment, even as I vacation). Where are you planning to go, if anywhere?

It’s not a done deal, but word from the Makers’ camp is that they’ve landed the opening slot of this summer’s New York Dolls tour. Regardless of what you think of their Thunder-free reunion, that’s a pretty apt pairing, I’d say.

The production is named after Johnston’s 1983 album, Speeding Motorcycle. I just hope he gets some royalties—seems like alot of folks are releasing tributes and documentaries, but the guy is living pretty lean, financially-speaking. Read more about the opera here. Via Pitchfork.

On a related note, when I interviewed Johnston for the paper a few years ago, he sent us artwork to use for the cover, which we paid him for. Granted, that ain’t much, but I thought it was nice.

I’ve posted before about Never Forget, a local podcast by a few music geek friends of mine, and now I’ll gladly do it again because this week I’m the co-host! I had never done a podcast before, and it was a lot of fun to pretend like I was doing pirate radio like Christian Slater in Pump Up the Volume (great movie, by the way).

For a whole hour, we play a bunch of great punk rock and make fun of each other and Pete Wentz. Here’s the playlist:

piebald - location is everything
possum dixon - we’re all happy
fifteen - inventions
hoover - TNT
meneguar - house of cats
lungfish - cleaner than your surroundings
mclusky - to hell with good intentions
team dresch - fagetarian and dyke
zero zero - true zero

So check it out by going to www.neverforgetpodcast.com. And apologies in advance for babbling, I tend to do that. Anyways, give a listen and let us know what you think! Your feedback keeps my heart beating.

Bonnie Owens, one of the most underrated women in country music, passed away yesterday morning—almost exactly a month after her first husband, Buck Owens. (She was also married to Merle Haggard.) If you are looking for a suitable way to honor her memory, in addition to any of Bonnie’s own fine recordings, one might also wish to check out “Queen of the Coast,” Laura Cantrell’s homage to Owens, found on her 2000 debut CD, Not the Tremblin’ Kind.

It’s billed as “the future of nightclub security.” According to an article in by Patrick Sisson in XLR8R, BioBouncer is an “electronic face book” based around “a system of unobtrusive cameras that uses 2D and 3D facial recognition technology to identify unwanted or troublesome customers.” The system doesn’t collect personal data; it simply captures facial images. Sisson continues:

BioBouncer is a simple setup. A pair of video cameras scans and analyzes patrons and checks them against images in the club’s database of problem customers. These customers—who were kicked out for causing trouble or violating club policy—had their pictures captured by trigger cameras at the exits and added to the system’s database. When they try to re-enter the venue at a later date, BioBouncer picks their photo out of the database and alerts the owner and security personnel (via a computer screen or wireless message), and the real-life bouncers get to work.

New York-based BioBouncer founder Jeff Dussich of JAD Communications and Security wouldn’t comment on when and where the system made its debut, but he notes that club owners from the U.S., Germany, Italy, and New Zealand have expressed interest in it.

Does BioBouncer make you feel safer or is this going too far to keep out the riff-raff?

On Friday night I went to the show at the Old Fire House featuring Schoolyard Heroes, Mon Frere, Speaker SpeakerSpeaker Speaker, and Paris in Arms.

I had never heard Paris in Arms, and to be honest I don’t remember much about their set except for the fact that the two frontmen were both wearing baseball shirts. One guy was #3 for the Atlanta Braves, and the other was #12 for the Cardinals. I wonder if that was done on purpose.

Anyways, next was Speaker Speaker. They’re a current favorite of mine, if you couldn’t tell by my childish need to constantly talk about them like a girl with a grade school crush. It was a homecoming show for the boys, who had been on the road for about two-weeks prior. And despite their no doubt exhausting 12-hour drive from Montana earlier in the day, the Big Shot winners were in fine form, obviously excited to play to a room of familiar faces. (For the record, Speaker Speaker also happily reported that the tour was “amazing.”) They played the hits from their three-song EP, Again and Again (which some kids were even singing along to!) but they also played a handful of songs that will appear on their upcoming full-length, which they’ll record with J. ROBBINS in June. Yeah, that’s right. J. Robbins. J. Motherfucking Robbins. From Jawbox. And Burning Airlines. And Jawbox. That’s awesome. Anyways, their unreleased material is a bit less poppy and fun as what you’re probably used to, but it’s still great, a little more mid-era Jawbreaker—still raw, but catchy. And Colin even starts screaming on one song. I dunno the name, but it’s great. One of my favorites. The band also recently added another song on their Myspace page, “Dad Will You Pick Me Up.” Go here to listen if you need a fix.

Mon Frere opened their set with a heavy keyboard riff, and as the crowd raised their hands to clap along with the beat, one girl pushed through everyone to get closer to the front and squealed “I feel like I’m going into battle!” She sorta was. Kids in Redmond love to start the dance pits, and they had a hell of a circle going during most of the show. As a sidenote, Mon Frere releases their debut full-length, Blood, Sweat and Swords, on May 2nd. I had dinner with the band Saturday night to talk about the album, future plans, and Fall Out Boy, and that story will be in this week’s paper. They’ll also be playing a free in-store show at Ballard’s Sonic Boom on the 2nd to celebrate the release of the CD. I’ll remind you about that again later, though.

The best part of the show (although the whole thing was pretty fucking fun) was seeing Schoolyard Heroes. Now I’ve seen that band 867 times (or somewhere around there) and while they didn’t play any new material (which I hear they have! More on that later…), they did shock everyone by playing the always-requested/never-played song off their first record, “Boyfriend.” They NEVER do that, despite fan’s incessant pleading. Kids went nuts when the band interrupted “Bury the Tooth of the Hydra and a Skeleton Army Will Arise” to surprisingly break into “Boyfriend.” It was really great. Also during the show, vocalist Ryann Donnelly (donning an adorable ruffly white party dress), dropped the mic (which I’ve never seen her do, despite her constant thrashing around) after she accidentally stepped on the chord. She recovered by throwing her body on to the stage and just singing from there. Almost looked like she meant to do it. Later, she also spit some water on the crowd, who appeared to love it. Another first!

After the show, Kyle from Mon Frere got his ass handed to him at the Foosball table by Danny from Speaker Speaker. Kid’s got game.

Who did you see this weekend?

I just returned from a delightful long weekend in beautiful Austin, Texas where the temperature hovered around the mid-’80s and low-’90s the majority of the time. I thrive in hot weather (as long as it’s, you know, a dry heat), so I was dreading coming home to chillier environs. Happily, this was not the case, and on the drive to the office this morning, I enjoyed that classic pleasure of rolling down both car windows and cranking the Big Rock for the first time this spring. In this case, I chose to revisit last year’s My Morning Jacket release, Z. As I am prone to, I played it into the ground when it first came out, so it had to be put down for a while—but this morning it sounded fresh and exhilarating, creating that heady, teenage state that makes you want to blow off work and find a bar with a broad tequila selection and a killer deck.

There are some bands and records that always fit this ritual perfectly. I find the hefty guitars and lascivious intent of early Van Halen to be particularly appropriate, especially their debut and Women and Children First. There’s also much to be said for the reliability of the Cult’s Rick Rubin-produced masterpiece, Electric. So, gentle rocker readers, do share: what record makes you want to put your speakers on the deck and dig that Webber out of the garage?

If you, like the nitwits at VH-1, have only ever associated choreographer/actress/singer Toni Basil with her lone ‘82 chart hit, “Mickey” and its inescapable cheerleading video (which now looks shockingly fresh given the primitive technology of the time), please direct your attention to the following quote (added emphasis my own) from the liner notes of the recently reissued My Life In The Bush Of Ghosts, the historic collaboration between Brian Eno + David Byrne, recorded ca. 1979 and 1980:

“At one point in L.A. we were hanging out a bit with Toni Basil, whom we both admired as an innovative choreographer and street dance facilitator. Her appearances on Soul Train with the Lockers were unforgettable, and the group she was working with and organizing at that time, The Electric Boogaloos, was making some of the most amazing and innovative dance we’d ever seen. They all put the arty avant-garde world to shame - they were funky and robotic at the same time, a combination that somehow seemed apt for those times.

At one point Toni had an offer to do a TV special featuring those dancers, and for a short while we imagined our record could be the soundtrack.”

She directed the historic video for Talking Heads’ “Once in a Lifetime.” Toni also choreographed several David Bowie tours, was a dancer on The T.A.M.I. Show , had plum film roles in Easy Rider, Five Easy Pieces, and Village of the Giants, and continues to work to this day (her recent credits include the choreography for Legally Blonde: Do we have Toni to thank for “bend and snap?” Let it be so…).

Even her musical career features as least one interesting aside from “Mickey” - check out her terror-stricken girl group single from 1966, “I’m 28” (produced by Ed “Tainted Love” Cobb) on Rhino’s One Kiss Can Lead To Another: Girl Group Sounds, Lost & Found. I’m also a hopeless fan of her l983 tea dance classic “Over My Head,” but I’m willing to concede that it pales next to most of her other achievements. Although you’ve gotta love this picture sleeve: “Dude, check out the peacock on my head!”

Speaking of alleged one-hit wonders, will someone please buy me this for my birthday next month?

Seattle producer Filastine receives a strong review from Philip Sherburne in the April issue of experimental-music bible The Wire. Burn It drops April 25 on Soot Records. Sherburne calls the album:

purposefully decentered… fusing ‘folk’ musics from North Africa, South Asia and the Middle East with dancehall and breakcore programming, sombre basslines slouching toward Babylon and raps in English and Spanish.

Now that I have peeled my lazy ass out of bed, consumed a large coffee, breakfast, and a short nap, it is time for me to tell you what I think you should do tonight. If you consider tinnitus a foregone conclusion, and/or you enjoy the sound of skillfully executed, triumphant noise-rock with rousing vocals and melodies that can motivate even the slovenliest of the proletariat (me), then you should make your way to the Crocodile Café around 9 p.m. to witness Parts & Labor, a Brooklyn three-piece that will deliver one hell of a live show, and hopefully clear my ear canals as well. Headlining is Wilderness, who—despite sounding very much like an even more atmospheric version of the Comsat Angels—feature enough of their own skill and talent to find a larger audience and better distribution deal than the Angels did in their time. See you there.

If you need something to do this weekend, you’ve got a lot of choices. Here’s what I personally recommend…

Tonight, Unnatural Helpers are at the Comet tonight with the Tall Birds (ex members of the Catheters), and the Trashies (really sloppy but entertaining punk). Shoplifting are playing at Studio 108. You can also catch an all-ages show at Redmond’s Old Fire House with the Schoolyard Heroes and Speaker Speaker!

Tomorrow, Saturday, Hypatia Lake, Siberian, and Wesafari are at the Comet, while Paint it Black, the Loved Ones, and the Shook Ones are sure to turn the Paradox into a sweaty pit of kids.

And Sunday, Pinback (swoon!) is at the Showbox. They’re great.

You can read about all these and more in the Up & Coming section. Also, be sure to check out
the Stranger’s Bands page, where you can look up and listen to hundreds of local bands.

The Stranger’s all music all the time blog, Line Out, is launching today. Line Out is the place to go for Stranger-lovin’ music junkies who don’t want to read about TomKat’s placenta-munching proclivities, Charles Mudede’s fever dreams, or the minutiae of Seattle parking regulations (not that there’s anything wrong with those things, but there are only so many hours in the day).

At Line Out, the paper’s music-oriented staff writers, columnists, and freelancers will opine and observe with the kind of acuity, fervor, and humor you’ve come to expect from their printed work. We’ll be writing about upcoming shows, reviewing gigs, alerting you to hot new bands, hipping you to amazing records old and new, castigating sonic wackness, and editorializing about important issues concerning the music industry.

Please peruse Line Out and fill up the Comments box, if you’re so inclined. We thrive on your feedback.

It’s true. And with those two forces combined, the world could end.

You might remember Nick and Jonah from their Queen ramblings. Or maybe you’ll recall Jonah’s interview with Andrew W.K. Most notably, though, Nick and Jonah are the bassists for Kane Hodder and Schoolyard Heroes respectively, they’re roommates, they’re friends, and when put together, they’re hilarious.

The name of the podcast is War of Attrition, and they plan on doing it every week. They just posted the first episode this morning. It’s so new, I haven’t even listened to it all yet, but just the playlist alone (Manowar, Fleetwood Mac, the Village People, and Skid Row) promises good times. And I’m only 15 minutes into it and already they’ve talked about how Stevie Nicks is a slut and chest hair’s presence in rock and roll. Awwwwesome.

Listen at www.warofattritionpodcast.com.

The Stranger’s 2006 Big Shot winners, Speaker Speaker, have been on tour for a good two weeks, but tonight they’re finally back in Seattle’s warm embrace. Well, almost. They’re in Redmond, actually, at the Old Fire House, where they’ll play an all-ages show with Schoolyard Heroes and Paris in Arms. If you haven’t yet, be sure to give Speaker Speaker a listen, as they’re currently one of my favorites. And fans of Sicko, Jawbreaker, and Ted Leo MUST check them out. Seriously, it’s required. If you don’t, I’ll find out and and write you a citation.

Though I heard a while ago that a show documenting Lil’ Kim’s last days as a free woman was in the works, I somehow missed the whole damn thing—a fact I just became aware of when I received this press release from her handlers:

Catch tonight’s season finale of BET’s hit reality series “Lil’ Kim: Countdown to Lockdown.” It is the day of her surrender and Lil’ Kim’s family, friends and business associates are trying to adjust to what life will be like once the pint-sized diva begins her 366-day jail term in Philadelphia’s Federal Detention Center. Viewers can witness the final chapter in her journey during the episode premiere on Thursday, April 20 at 9:30 p.m. ET/PT. BET’s cameras captured the emotion as Lil’ Kim and her entourage were transported from her New Jersey mansion to Philly on a tour bus. Just before stepping off the bus, an emotionally-spent but resolute Lil’ Kim expresses her love for everyone, exhibiting the courage that has awed observers and “camp Kim” insiders alike with a simple statement:

‘A cell can only hold my body, not my mind,” she says to her supporters. “I love you, and I will see you soon - sooner than you think.’

Lil’ Kim: Countdown to Lockdown debuted on BET on March 9. The six-episode series chronicling the rapper’s last 14 days of freedom was produced by BET in collaboration with Edmonds Entertainment and Queen Bee Entertainment. The premiere episode drew a whopping 1.9 million viewers, making Lil’ Kim the most watched original series in BET’s 25-year history.

Has anyone else seen an episode? There’s something about her sentence that truly disturbs me—though I suppose it will be good for her sales figures in the long run, for whatever that’s worth. On a bizarrely-related note, Syracuse University recently offered a course entitled “The Life and Times of Lil’ Kim.”

This week on page 55 of The Stranger, a photo of the Austin, Texas psych-rock band Black Angels ran in the Up & Coming section of the paper, despite the fact that Black Angels are not playing in Seattle this week; however, they do have a show here June 19 at Chop Suey, and we predict it will enhance the life of anyone into astral-plane-gliding rock and roll, if Black Angels’ new album on Light in the Attic Records, Passover, is any indication.

The photo erroneously ran due to serious eyeball/mind fatigue suffered by The Stranger’s music editor and some members of the editorial production staff. All concerned regret the error and apologize for any inconvenience.

A saxophonist/flautist of extraordinary finesse, spirituality, and power, Pharoah Sanders has cut several astral-jazz classics that also appeal to psych- and noise-rock heads (I got into him after reading an interview with the Stooges in which the seminal Detroit rockers cited Sanders’s Tauhid as inspirational). Sanders is also responsible for one of my favorite pieces of music: “The Creator Has a Master Plan,” which makes this agnostic believe in God, Heaven, everlasting peace—all that corny shit—at least while it’s playing. Go and see if this 75-year-old legend can still blow holy fire at the Triple Door (216 Union St, 838-4333, 7 pm & 9:30 pm, $27/$30, all ages/21+.)

In case you missed the U&C about this new local band in this week’s paper, here it is again.

THE VOMITING UNICORNS, MARTIAN MEMO TO GOD, THE MORIARTYS (Crocodile) Besides having one of the best fucking band names ever, the Vomiting Unicorns also offer fans a really sharp and forward rock-and-roll sound made by blending equal parts of DC post-hardcore with the catchy melodies of Brit pop. They cite Fugazi, Flaming Lips, and Mclusky as influences (so they’re pretty much my dream band), and you can hear little pieces of all those acts in their tight compositions of highly danceable proportions. Since your curiosity is no doubt skyrocketing right now, you’ll be happy to know you can hear a few cuts on The Stranger’s band page at www.thestranger.com/bands. MEGAN SELING

If that sounds at all interesting to you (c’mon dudes, Mclusky and Fugazi!), come to the Crocodile tonight. It’ll be fun, fun, fun.

One of the perils of having a huge music collection is that you can neglect excellent albums for years without realizing it. So it is with gratitude and great pleasure that I recently rediscovered two old, overlooked albums by the rap group Fu-Schnickens—1992’s F.U. “Don’t Take It Personal” and 1994’s Nervous Breakdown.

Cursed with one of the worst names in hiphop, Fu-Schnickens will always be classified in my mental Rolodex with Das EFX, as both groups favored goofy, motormouthed raps abounding with arcane pop-culture references and off-kilter, funky production touches.

Although Fu-Schnickens left us with two nearly perfect albums, they did give Shaquille O’Neal his break on the mic, and for that they can never be forgiven.

Thinking about Fu-Schnickens spurred this thought: the airwaves are saturated with classic-rock stations. Where are the hiphop equivalents of this phenomenon? Where are the frequencies broadcasting nothing but rap jams from 1979 to 1995? Surely there’s a demand for this format, judging by the outbreak of club nights devoted to golden-era hiphop. Oh, here’s an online station bumpin’ the classics. Anyone know of terrestrial or satellite stations doing the same?

Nothing really timely I suppose, no local relevance, and old news to some, but for the uninformed, please enrich your musical life with podcasts from Dublab.com . For quite some time now, the witty, nerdy, self deprecating DJs at Dublab have championed some of the most cutting-edge electronic/indie/folk/hip hop from the past and present… truly alternative radio from people with a great breadth of musical knowledge. You wont hear anyone from Dublab refer to “Money Mark” as the most talented Beastie Boy (A random remark, but if you heard what I heard on an unmentioned local radio station some time back, maybe you’ll catch my drift). If you’re in my boat and can’t stream media at work, then stock up on their growing inventory of fresh and exclusive podcasts, culled from previous live sessions. The current roster of podcast artists include: Colleen, Daedelus, Terry Callier (THE Terry Callier, accompanied by an awesome interview on the state of electronic music), Greg Davis and Sebastian Roux, Bird Show, Nobody, Feathers, a Hawk and a Hacksaw, the Books, and Thomas “Orb” Fehlman.

Unfortunately, Scout Niblett had to cancel her Vera show tonight due to illness. The show must go on, as they say, and the new line-up is Emma Zunz, Ghost to Falco, and Boys in the Coven (featuring members of Holy Ghost Revival). There might be a few more special guests in the works too, so don’t miss it.

Show starts at 7:30 pm tonight at C.H.A.C. (1621 12th Ave) and costs $5 at the door with a Vera club card ($6 without). More info at www.theveraproject.org.

There’s a great show at the Crocodile tonight, starring the lush and wonderful Siberian, Sirens Sister (featuring Zach from Vendetta Red), Blue Checkered Record Player (Sonny Votolato’s solo project), and Sea Navy (think pop goodness a la Ted Leo). I’d probably tell you to go even if it cost $10, but it doesn’t. It’s totally free.

Grendel, an industrial EBM band from the Netherlands, was supposed to play a show here last night, but instead their whole US tour had to be canceled due to the currently absolutely fucked state of America. On March 25, after playing Montreal, the band was denied entry to the US and detained at the border.

GRENDEL US TOUR CANCELLED // Please read :: [27 Mar 2006|03:32pm]

extol_involute
Very bad news: I have been in detention for the last two days, trying to get into the US from Canada. I have been rejected on the basis of apparently being a spreader/carrier of ‘obscene and communist political extremist’ material (total bullshit) based on the following:

- T-shirts: Feindflug ‘Volk und Armee,’ Combichrist ‘Enjoy the Abuse,’ one depicting a Kolasjnikov gun and some rockabilly shirts by Monster & Felon.

- CD`s: Suicide Commando, Leaetherstrip ‘Suicide Bombers’ and two Laibach CDs.

- Lyrics sheet of Grendel. Didn`t include the band name or titles, so they probably thought it was speech or something.

I was not even asked about these, but simply accused right there an then of having these on me to spread/sell. All of this was for my personal use, the t-shirts had all been used previously and the CD’s were only with the corresponding booklets, one original of each, in my CD folder. Also, I didn`t realise the cold war was still going on..Can you say: Good night & good luck? As soon as these items were found, the border control officer made a note of these on the computer system and I believe it was at this point I was already blacklisted.

Then came being accused of being a ‘fulltime professional musician’ (also bullshit – based on the amount of albums released) and trying to enter the US without a work permit. I was not carrying any gear or merchandise with me, as that was given to someone else by car to avoid all of this. Even then, they got me. Reason for this being them searching my CD’s and looking up the websites on them, such as on the copies of two Grendel releases I had with me in my CD folder/booklet. They found the picture of myself and the tour data. So that was the end of that.

More here.

On February 23, 1945, American soldiers raised this flag at Iwo Jima.

On July 20, 1969, American astronauts planted this flag on the moon.

And yesterday, at 9:30 am, Charles Cossé, outdoorsman, president of Cossé International Securities, and trustee for the Seattle Opera, planted this flag at the North Pole.

From the press release: “Seattle Opera’s flag will not be left at the Pole. Conscious of the potential impact on the environment of leaving items in the Arctic, Cossé plans to return the flag to Seattle Opera to be placed in the company’s archives.”

The combination of luxury, frivolity, and conscientiousness is just… amazing.

For fans of Brazilian music, the upcoming shows by trio Os Mutantes are the equivalent of a Beatles reunion. This morning, it was announced that, after their first show since 1973 at the Barbican museum in London on May 22, 2006, and a pair of U.S. dates (in New York and LA, natch), the seminal Tropicalia band will also perform in San Francisco, Chicago, and, on Wednesday, July 26, at the Moore Theater in Seattle.

The full press release from V2-Artemis Records (which distributes Luaka Bop, home of the Os Mutantes primer Everything Is Possible) follows…

that’s right—“everything IS possible”

for the first time since 1973 —-tropicalia, psych rock pioneers os mutantes to tour

from today’s pitchfork home page. see text below. http://www.pitchforkmedia.com/

full tour dates:

Friday, July 21st- Webster Hall, NYC
Sunday, July 23rd- Hollywood Bowl, L.A.
Monday, July 24th- The Fillmore Auditorium, San Francisco
Wednesday, July 26th- Moore Theatre, Seattle
Sunday, July 30th- Pitchfork Music Festival, Union Park, Chicago
Os Mutantes Added to Pitchfork Music Festival Lineup!

Amy Phillips reports:
The Pitchfork Music Festival, taking place July 29 and 30 in Chicago’s Union Park, isn’t only going to be two days of happy people getting drunk and rocking out. It’s also going to be an historic event.

We are honored and delighted to announce that Brazilian Tropicália gods Os Mutantes, reunited and performing live for the first time since 1973, will play the second day of the Pitchfork Music Festival. The psych-rock pioneers have scheduled just a handful of shows this summer, and we have been lucky enough to score their only American festival appearance. As Os Mutantes themselves once said, everything is possible—including getting to see a group of living legends play on the same bill as members of the younger musical generation they helped inspire, all for a ridiculously low ticket price.

June Pointer, the youngest of pop music’s ass-kicking Pointer Sisters, is dead at 52. (Note to neophytes: Although “Baby” June had her own run-ins with the law, and also recorded solo albums, do not confuse her with older sibling Bonnie Pointer, who made an eyebrow-raising Gay Pride appearance at The Cuff last year.)

If you go to this site you will find a rare pop jewel by a Japanese singer named Tohsi Kubota. The track is called “Nothing But Your Love,” and it’s produced/remixed by the great and late Jay Dee. Kubota sings in perfect black English. In fact, when I first heard the song on a mix by the LA-based beat-builder Take, I thought the singer was a black female obediently following Grace Jones’ androgynous path. But the chorus caught me by surprise: “I’m not nothing.” Though sung with a black English twang (“nothaang”), the construction is not common to black or white English. We almost never say “I’m not nothing.” To utter such a thing is to create an impossible black hole in the sign system of our language. After Take informed me of the singer’s nationality during a chance meeting in Park City, I became obsessed with “Nothing But Your Love.” It offers so much to consider: trends in Japanese pop music; the strange inventions that occur when one language meets and interacts with another language; the globalization of black English (or black singing); and so on and so forth. Listen to the song and be amazed (as I’m) by our age of transnational pop and capital.

The preliminary line-up for Bumbershoot 2006—including a stadium show with Kanye West—is the lead news item in this morning’s edition of music industry bible Billboard. Of the acts not cited in the Billboard piece, but also confirmed, I’m particularly excited about another local appearance by soul great Bettye Lavette and a rare show by neo-folk icon Vashti Bunyan.

Aside from her bewitching music videos and her bizarrely appropriate role as Mary Magdalene in Hal Hartley’s Book of Life, PJ Harvey has avoided visual documentation of her live performances (and her personal life) for quite some time. Happily, that will change when she releases a live DVD on May 23rd, comprised of live footage from the Uh Huh Her tour and (gasp!) “behind-the-scenes footage.” Yay!

A key member of Eminem’s notorious D12 hiphop crew, Proof (AKA 32-year-old Deshaun Holton), was fatally shot in the head during an argument at a strip club on Detroit’s 8 Mile Road, which was immortalized in the Eminem bio-pic 8 Mile. A respected battle rapper, Proof appeared in that film and was Em’s best man in his second marriage to Kim Mathers in January.

Obie Trice, another Motor City MC tight with Eminem, was shot while driving on a metro Detroit freeway in December 2005.

While I deeply appreciate the difficult (and often unrecognized) efforts of the underground and indie music communities, I think it’s equally important to pay attention to mainstream pop music. It’s being more widely digested and is therefore a barometer of what the mass cultural experience looks like at a given moment—for better or for worse. This is especially true when you consider its impact on non-urban audiences who might not have regular access to edgy, underground artists. While most of the mind-numbing “music” on MTV2 bores me to tears, every once in a while a mainstream artist blindsides me with unexpectedly strong work.

In 2004, it was Green Day that impressed me with their blatantly anti-war rock opera, American Idiot (they also did a couple of rather bold videos, especially this one). This year, it’s looking like Pink may be the artist that deserves high praise for taking a gutsy political stance. I don’t know specifically what instigated this passion for bringing punk-minded feminism to young girls, but “Stupid Girls,” the single from her new album, I’m Not Dead, is a sharp, take-no-prisoners critique of current female gender roles, beauty standards, and consumer culture. No, it’s hardly advanced feminist theory, but a young girl (particularly one who’s stuck in red state hell) absorbing the messages in this video is undoubtedly a very, very good thing.

Conversely, listening to the new Yeah Yeah Yeah’s CD, Show Your Bones, has proved to be a terribly disheartening experience. After a move to L.A. and a few years under the helm of Interscope Records, Karen O and company sound soft, safe (I thought I was listening to Tegan and Sara when I first put the CD in) and uncharacteristically one-dimensional. No one should expect a promising young band to duplicate their debut, but watching a beautifully chaotic, hyper-creative punk trio mutate into something so sedate and toothless is quite jarring—especially when their frontwoman was such a fierce and fearless presence.

While these two records are hardly polar opposites, seeing two artists release highly anticipated records to fans who will probably be divided over their new statements is worth examining, which is exactly what I’ll be doing in a future edition of the Stranger.

To see Pink’s video for “Stupid Girls,” go here.

To see the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s video for their first single, “Golden Lion,” go here (scroll down to the “media” section).

Participants of this year’s Rock Lottery have been announced. For those unfamiliar, Rock Lottery gathers a pool of 25 local musicians, splits them up into five groups of five, and locks each group up in a room for a day, where they’re forcced to name their new band and write a short set of original material. Later that night, the new bands are released from their cells and thrown on stage where they perform the outcome of their day-long band rehearsal.

Last year’s Rock Lottery at ConWorks was a lot of fun. I distincly remember Sean Nelson of Harvey Danger singing a poppy dance number about a spider on the drumset with one of the girls from Smoosh.

This year’s rock lotter includes Jim Antonio (The Purrs), Dave Bazan (Headphones, Pedro the Lion), James Bertram (754-Hero/Red Stars Theory), Dave Brozowski (Tall Birds/the Catheters), Emery Carl (Chairman of the Pike Market Performers Guild), Richard Davidson (The Young Sportsmen), Heather Duby, Aaron Ellh (the Ruby Doe), Greg Gilmore (Mother Love Bone), Gavin Gregory (Water Kill the Sun), Kim House (C’est la Mort), Aaron Huffman (Harvey Danger), Grant Johnson (Big Smokey, Model Rockets), Nouela Johnston (Mon Frere), Zeke Keeble (Marrow, Locust), Aaron Malver (The Red Note), Chris McFarland (Suretoss), Rob Schaffer (the Femurs), Sonic Smith (the Emergency), Conor St. Kiley (Holy Ghost Revival), Shane Tutmarc (Dolour), James Van Leuven (Plan B), Sonny Votolato (Slender Means, Blue Checkered Record Player), and Reggie Watts (Maktub).

Members of Mon Frere, Harvey Danger, the Emergency, and Holy Ghost Revival? It’s gonna be awesome. The show will take place at Neumo’s on April 29th. Visit rocklottery.com for info.

This funny piece in The Onion captures exactly what I’ve been thinking for several months now. If only I could download the jukebox in my mind onto your iPod. You’d need a dozen of those suckers…

High Dive booking agent (and all-around philanthropic guy) Greg Garcia has coordinated two benefits on April 17th and 24th to benefit the Capitol Hill murder victims’ families. He’s booked a nice array of DJs, including Capitol Hill club favorites like DJ Colby B and DJ Fucking in the Streets. Full details on the High Dive website.

Sunday, April 2

Every time we drive through Iowa it rains, and this time is no exception. In fact, it was pouring the entire drive—the kind of heavy rain Seattle never sees. On top of that, we barely missed a tornado ripping through Iowa City. There’s nothing like a white-knuckle drive through massive tornadic activity to make a band want to rock. Unfortunately, this was not to be. We show up at Gabe’s Oasis only to find that there are a total of two people paid on this tornado-ridden Sunday night. The first band, the Lepers, play while we wait to load in equipment. No one else shows up, so we cut the bartenders and soundman a break and pack it in. The contrast between tonight and Omaha the night before is epic, but touring is damn unpredictable at times. While it can be fun and exciting much of the time, it can also be boring. We often spend 8 hours in a van, get to a club, unload, sit around and wait, play to 10 people, and search for somewhere to crash. Not to demystify the experience, but its hard work for a questionable payoff at times. Also worth mentioning - Gabe’s Oasis has the most disgusting bathrooms in the entire country, and the chairs stick to the floor—-yum!

Monday, April 3

The following night at Mojo’s in Columbia, Missouri is a much better experience. We play this Monday night to an enthusiastic crowd of nearly 50 - many of whom were at our previous performance with the Hold Steady and the Constantines. We play with a band called Bum With a Dog (one of our favorite band names this tour) and Johnny O and the Jerks. Johnny O and the Jerks were friendly enough to put us up for the night, and even bought beers and pizza for the occasion. The night was a sad one for Johnny Cop as he receives word that his cat, Jodie Foster (who is a boy) had to be put to sleep. The old guy went down somewhere in the middle of our set. Afterwards, the Johnny O boys helped set up a vigil and we make many toasts in Jodie’s honor. Their compassion was very welcome and we’ll never forget the night. Rest in peace, Jodie Foster.

Tuesday, April 4

The next day, we arrive in Lawrence, Kansas obnoxiously early. We spend a sunny and warm afternoon combing record shops and chilling out while people watching to pass time. Michael’s friend from Omaha, Donnadea, makes a road trip to see the band and is kind enough to sneak us into her hotel room later that night. This is our second visit to the Replay Lounge this year. It is a cool little venue with hip décor and several pinball machines.

We arrive this time to find the front facade boarded up due to a violent microburst from a tornado that blew out the windows just days earlier. Apparently these microbursts drop out of the sky, unannounced, and destroy all kinds of nearby destroyables - glad we missed that shitstorm. Tonight we follow a cover band that does the Undertones’ “Teenage Kicks,” and the Stooges’ “TV Eye” - fun stuff. The Cops rock so hard tonight that a ceiling tile falls out mid-set. John fixes it at the end of the night so that we could be assured a welcome return. James, Replay booking agent and front man of the band Conner, was very friendly to us and the staff treats us with generous hospitality. James tells us not to expect any cops (actual cops) on the highway between Lawrence and Denver and that we can drive 90 mph the entire way.

Wednesday, April 5

On the way to Denver we see 15 state troopers within the first hour of driving - so much for speeding. This is the most boring drive of the entire tour. There is nothing to see other than miles of open plains and the world’s largest prairie dog. We make it to the Larimer Lounge in Denver in time to have food, drinks, and meet friends. The show tonight is ok and we play for another enthusiastic audience. A Denver band called Swayback shares the bill and they’re very good. Both bands are a solid match and we talk about touring together this summer. Dave and John’s college friend, Shannon, puts us up for the night.

Thursday, April 6

The following morning we awake early to get a head start and beat the massive snowstorms predicted in the Rocky Mountains. We have a long drive to Salt Lake City and tonight’s show starts early. We get through Colorado in good time only to hit near white out conditions in the mountains outside of Salt Lake. Dave white knuckles the wheel and we make it in time for our show at Kilby Court, a cool all-ages venue run by volunteers, similar to Seattle’s Vera Project. We arrive to find two feet of standing water at the entrance to the venue. Aarrggh.

Tonight we play to a small group of kids who stand at the front of the stage and respond in kind to every song. The 10-hour drive to play to a dozen spazzy kids seems worth it. We sell a few CDs and even sign a t-shirt. The night ends early as we grab a 12-pack and head to a hotel room to unwind. One more road show left before we come back to Seattle for our show Saturday at the Crocodile. The tour is coming to a bittersweet end, but we’re anxious to come home.

Ed. note: The Cops are heading back to Seattle from their last show at the Neurolux in Boise. They’ll be at the Crocodile tonight (doors at 9pm, $8) with Slender Means and Wintergreen. Welcome home, boys.

Pitchfork, the music geek website everyone loves to hate, pulled one hell of a prank with their April Fool’s day edition (sorry, can’t find the archived site anywhere—if you find it, send it to me!), but they had the tables turned on them this week, courtesy of the mischevious and charming Rosie Thomas.

On a related note, this review of At the Drive-In’s Relationship of Command (written as if it’s a debate between George W. Bush and Al Gore) remains one of the funniest things ever.

Some people search dilligently for a cure for cancer. Some fight dragons and outwit duplicitous elves (damn lying elves). And some of us spend an inordinate amount of time digging through bins of used records in search of unknown gems recorded by forgotten psyche bands, third-tier post-punk acts, and hotel entertainers from around the globe. If you fall into that last camp, or are simply a fan of Incredibly Strange Music, please visit Waxidermy. Set aside a fat chunk of time to get familiar with its extensive reviews of LPs you’ve never heard of, or only ever discussed in hushed, hopeful tones. All reviews include full-color cover art, most feature a brief sound sample or two—so you can decide more wisely whether or not to enter that eBay bidding war over the Klute soundtrack—and, unlike some groove collectors, the folks who post don’t seem to take themselves too seriously. (And muchas gracias to RJ at Jive Time for turning us on to this boffo site.)

Courtesy of former and future Stranger freelancer Matt Corwine.

Matt also records and plays outstanding electronic music under the moniker Mister Leisure. Read next week’s Data Breaker column for more information about his Chop Suey appearance with Matthew “Audion” Dear and DJ Eddie on April 19.

Yesterday London’s Daily Mail reported the disturbing story of Harraj Mann, the 24-year-old mobile phone salesman from Hartlepool, Teesside, who was hauled off a plane and questioned for three hours by terrorism investigators after listening to the Clash in a taxi on the way to the airport.

“The taxi had one of those tape deck things that plugs into your digital music player,” said Mann to the Daily Mail. “I played Procol Harum’s ‘Whiter Shade Of Pale’ first, which the taxi man liked. I figured he liked the classics so put on a bit of Led Zeppelin—‘Immigrant Song’—which he didn’t like. Then, since I was going to London, I played the song [‘London Calling’] by the Clash and finished up with ‘Nowhere Man’ by the Beatles.”

After his impromptu DJ gig, Mann boarded a plane at Durham Tees Valley Airport. Before takeoff, police raided the plane, marching Mann back to the terminal for the aforementioned three hours of questioning. Police told Mann he was being questioned under the Terrorism Act because his choice of music had aroused suspicions.

“It turned out the taxi driver alerted someone when I arrived at the airport and had spoken about my music,” Mann told the DM, which cited allegedly troublesome lyrics from both the Clash song—“London calling to the faraway towns, now war is declared and battle come down”—and Zep’s “Immigrant Song”: “The hammer of the gods will drive our ships to new lands, to fight the horde, singing and crying: Valhalla, I am coming!”

“The lyrics to both tracks made the driver fear his passenger was a terrorist,” reports the DM.

This isn’t the first time that Clash lyrics have landed an Englishman in trouble with British terror investigators. Back on June 3, 2004, The Guardian reported the story of Mike Devine, the 35-year-old punk musician from Bristol who was questioned as a terror suspect after text-messaging Clash lyrics to a bandmate.

The lyrics in question were from Give ‘Em Enough Rope’s “Tommy Gun,” whose lyrics indeed read like a terrorism red alert. But in this case, the sender wasn’t a terrorist, just a member of a Clash tribute band (which is its own kind of terrorism), texting lyrics to the band’s lead singer. It didn’t help that Mike Devine sent the text to the wrong number, thus setting in motion the bogus terror alert.

Full story on Harraj Mann here.

Full story on Mike Devine here.

Full story on the Clash here.

Well, the Domino band wasn’t around long enough to really miss them, given that the time span between inception and demise was comparable to the length of a Ramones’ set. Still, every time I put on that self-titled debut, I find myself frustrated that there’s no chance I’ll ever witness their Mclusky-esque cacophony in a live context.

For what it’s worth, Pitchfork reported this morning that former member Devonte Hynes has launched a new project called “Naked Babes,” though given their publicists’ cautionary tone, it very well may implode before it works its way to the U.S. All is not lost, however, as plans for a live Test Icicles DVD are in the works, along with a collection of remixes that includes re-toolings by the soon-to-be-huge kids from Spank Rock. Full story here.

In vaguely related news, Rolling Stone recently did a fascinating, if somewhat horrific piece on the endless train wreck that is Pete Dougherty’s crack and heroin-filled existence. Taint your mind at your own risk here.

To follow up on a previous Slog post, Stranger writers Charles Mudede and Larry Mizell Jr. (the latter also raps in hiphop trio Cancer Rising) have finalized plans to co-host KEXP’s local-music program Audioasis on the third Saturday of every month. The eloquent, knowledgeable duo starts educating listeners in the art of Seattle hiphop on April 15. More information will surely appear here in the near future.

Wall of Sound, Seattle’s most perfectly formed avant/world/out-rock/drone/electronic/etc. music shop, has a new website. Run by the knowledgeable and congenial Jeffery Taylor (Climax Golden Twins’ guitarist) and Michael Ohlenroth, Wall of Sound draws me in every week to satisfy my esoteric music cravings. It would make me feel much better about my addiction if you became as enamored of its treasures as I am. Thank you.

The press release was just delivered to my inbox…

AND THE BEAT SHALL GO ON…

A BENEFIT SHOW IN MEMORY OF FRIENDS LOST IN THE CAPITOL HILL SHOOTING.

WHEN: Wednesday, April, 12th - Doors @ 7pm – Show @ 7:30pm

WHERE: The Showbox - 1426 1st Avenue in Seattle

ENTERTAINMENT: 5-Track & Glass Goblins
King F**k You (Jeremy Martin’s band – one of the victims).
Pawn Council
Kled

WHY: To raise money to give to the victims’ families.

DETAILS: ALL AGES – 21+ Bar w/ ID
Tickets: $10 Advance/$12 Day of Show
Tickets available at The Showbox or www.ticketswest.com
Food buffet donated by The Madison Market Organic Co-Op and other local retailers.

Over in the music forums, I started a thread where ya’ll can post your own reviews of local shows. So if you saw anything awesome or awful this weekend, speak up here!

I’m proud of all of the pieces in the paper this week. The news and arts writers at The Stranger did an outstanding job of covering last Saturday’s shootings.

I don’t want to single out any one piece. But there’s one that didn’t make it into the feature package, and I’m afraid it might get overlooked. Paul Constant writes the column “Party Crasher” for us. It’s a weekly snapshot of a house party. We created the column because we felt that Seattle had a lively house party scene, and that we weren’t really covering Seattle’s nightlife if we ignored house parties. There’s nothing “in it” for The Stranger; people don’t advertise their house parties. We cover them because we think they’re interesting and we think people enjoy attending, by proxy, parties that they weren’t actually invited to.

Anyway, if you missed Paul’s tremendously moving piece on last week’s murders—which, as everyone knows, took place at a house party—you can find it by clicking here.

We throw parties to bring strangers together in the hopes that, maybe, by the end of the night we won’t all be strangers. When you think about it, that’s an inspiring act of hope, and that’s why, regardless of some message-board screeching or a few fear-driven editorials and panicky government officials, we’ll continue throwing house parties and, yes, inviting people we don’t know into our homes….

Party crashing has taught me this: Most people genuinely want everyone to have a good time, and it’s too goddamn inexpressibly sad to consider what would happen to Seattle, and to ourselves, if we didn’t greet the next unfamiliar face at the party with a smile.

While we were pulling together last week’s issue Charles Mudede suggested that we float the idea of a night of house parties all over the city. That didn’t make it into the paper, unfortunately. I think it’s a good idea, and if people are into it, we’ll get behind it.

A night of house parties could be a memorial, of a sort, to the people who lived in the blue house on Republican. They frequently opened their home to friends, friends-of-friends, and, yes, to strangers. According to their neighbors, their parties had always been peaceful. (Just as peaceful as the all-ages dance scene.) A night of house parties could also perhaps a fund-raiser for the survivors or some appropriate charity. But mostly it would serve as an affirmation of Seattle’s culture of house parties that Paul Constant so elequently defends in this week’s paper.