
The Big Dig record show happens Sat. May 19 at Vermillion Gallery and Bar. It's open to the public from 3 pm to 8 pm with a $3 entry fee (early entry from 1 pm-3 pm costs $10—and you have to contend with Mike Nipper's elbows). More than 20 dealers from Seattle, Spokane, Portland, and even Detroit will be selling LPs and 45s of many different styles, offering a plethora of gems. The Big Dig always leaves my wallet depleted and my shoulders sore. To soundtrack your digging experience, several DJs—including selectors from the Dug crew, Brian Hill, Explorateur, and yours unruly—will be spinning crucial cuts that you probably won't be able to Shazam (including the Rufus Harley jam after the cut).
As you may have heard, April 21 is Record Store Day, which is a holy occasion in my household. Newly relocated (again!) Capitol Hill retailer Everyday Music has a full day/night’s slate of entertainment to heighten your RSD experience. (Disclosure: I’m DJing the 4 pm-5 pm slot. I promise to turn you on… to fab new and old jams.) Check out the lineup below, which includes Stranger freelancer Kurt B. Reighley (aka DJ El Toro) and a grip of worthy Seattle musical acts. On top of all this, EM will be discounting new music 10 percent and used goods 20 percent.

Jonathan James Carr's latest work in progress, "Stereo Music for Tuned Dolphinizer," deviates slightly from his last album with Brain Fruit, 1.1 (Debacle Records). This piece surges into more jagged dynamics, urgent tempos, and strident tonalities than anything on that excellent, kosmische full-length. "Dolphinizer" progressively intensifies over its 10+ minutes, inducing a thrillingly mad, disorienting effect. What a swarmer.
Brain Fruit perform as part of the group Particle Being Ensemble with four Rose Windows' members and Master Musicians of Bukkake's Randall Dunn on sax at the Comet Fri. April 20, a show that is doubling as my birthday party.
KEXP DJ Greg Vandy is holding his annual Spring Soul Jamboree Invitational Wed. April 4 on 90.3 FM and at kexp.org (6 pm-9 pm). Every year, the host of The Roadhouse asks five DJs to spin their all-time top 5 soul songs and to briefly discuss them. This year, Vandy’s invited Triple Door talent buyer Scott Giampino (aka Self-Administered Beatdown, former impresario of the Soul Hole monthly), Garrett Lunceford (Sophisticated Mama), Marc Muller (Emerald City Soul Club), Christian Science (DUG), and, uh, me. (Greg probably wanted a dilettante to add some “quirky” surprises to the mix.)
The guidelines: all songs must be from 1965 to 1975 and under four minutes. The latter restriction is kind of a bummer, because it eliminates potential selections like Funkadelic’s “What Is Soul” and Dr. John’s “Gris-Gris Gumbo Ya Ya.” Nevertheless, there are plenty of immortal gems to be found that run under 240 seconds, and I hope to dig through my stash and do the show justice. Those other guys are guaranteed to bring the heat, as many possess 45s that individually cost more than your monthly rent payment. Tune in, turn on, drop trou.
Seattle-based reissue label Medical Records is holding a listening party for its latest release, Axxess’ Novels for the Moons*, at Wall of Sound (315 E Pine St in Capitol Hill) tonight from 7 pm-9 pm.
This bizarre 1983 synthesizer album was the product of Patrick Mimran, a French multimedia artist who co-ran Lamborghini Motors with his brother in the ’80s. Alternately sinister and whimsical, Novels for the Moons is one of the most distinctive releases in Medical’s high-quality catalog. Mimran—a rare combination of savvy businessman and maverick artist—told me in an interview, “Lamborghini cars were and still are a perfect blend of art and technology, as good electronic music was and still is.” You can find out for yourself at Wall of Sound tonight.
*I wrote liner notes for this album.
[I’m one of the DJs for the Prog! bimonthly at the Living Room, so please forgive the COI, but this event is important regardless of my participation in it.]
Alan Bishop—ex-Sun City Girls, Alvarius B., co-founder of the Sublime Frequencies label—is returning to play music for Prog! The last time he graced us with his loaded laptop in November 2011, he dropped so many cuts of exquisite quality and utmost rarity, there is still jaw residue on the Living Room’s hardwood floor. A ravenous collector and curator for one of the planet’s most interesting global-music labels, Bishop has access to tons of fantastic music that practically nobody else on Earth has even heard. When he’s done with his set, you’ll realize you still have a lot to learn about music and will leave with a headful of new names to explore further.
Residents Explorateur, Gel-Sol, and Veins also will spin. Bishop will likely start his set shortly after 9 pm. (The Living Room, 9 pm-2 am, free, 21+.)
Remember that show from late last year I keep blabbing about, the one with Don't Talk to the Cops, Police Teeth, and TacocaT? Well, Kenneth finally got up the headlining set from Cold Lake. See both videos, including their version of Bodycount's "Cop Killer" co-sung by El Mizell (although there's lots of blackness and not much to see, so you may as well just listen) after the cut:

As reported earlier, Santigold released her new single/video this week.
Called "Big Mouth," the first minute — and every verse from then on — is offensively clunky, trite, about ten years too late, and proves all the tutterers right as it plays impostor with the most obvious Arular intents for lowest-common-denominator fun & profit.
But then? The chorus?
Bonkers!
I'm on an airplane right now (That's flying in the sky—this is some crazy shit!) and decided to splurge on inflight WiFi and check out Line Out for the first time during my extended vacation, since I've largely been off the grid.
Plenty of critically lauded indie albums were released in 2011, many of which I never listened to, like Destroyer's Chinatown (why bother when there's an entire discography of Steely Dan and Michael McDonald?) or the new one from Bon Iver (when I moved to Seattle and matriculated at U.W., the only person from my small town who had gone to school there told me to prepare for "incredible excitement and fun, soul-crushing despair, self-loathing, huge amounts of arrogance and ego-inflation, life-doldrums, death-of-self, and a lot of beer." For Emma, Forever Ago soundtracked the first winter of all that, and I'm a little scared to listen to Bon Iver again.
But the one that tops of my list of albums I refuse to listen to, is Leave Home by the Men, and I might skip over their new one in 2012 too. Why? Because they stole their name from my mom's band in the early 90s. Seriously, here's the video to their Polydor single "Church of Logic, Sin & Love." My mom is the blonde-haired lady bassist wearing sunglasses who doesn't smile (and NOT the blonde-haired lady guitarist wearing sunglasses who doesn't smile). Her star turn is at around the minute and a half mark in the video, when she refuses to laugh at the lead singer/songwriter wearing a ridiculous hat in a diner.
So tell me Line Out readers who have now (hopefully) listened to both of the Mens, which one is better? I won't be mad if you choose young Brooklyn upstarts over my mom, and maybe once I'm on the ground, (did I mention that I'm flying in an airplane right now, on the Internet, and drinking scotch? Yes, I've had a few Glenlivets.) I'll check out these dudes who chose the same dumb name as my mom's old band.
There's an art show tonight by LineOut contributor Derek Erdman. If you go, you'll recognize him (me) as the person in the corner separating Haribo gummi bears into color piles. Eat all of your favorite color! There will be over 60 paintings, all priced to move into your house.
Lady Actors & Old Computers: Paintings By Derek Erdman 8pm - 11pm
SOLO Bar & Snackhouse, 200 Roy Street, Seattle, WA 98109-4150

Statement: My work explores the relationship between Pre-raphaelite tenet and romance tourism.
With influences as diverse as Lynn Curtis Swann and Eddie Antar, new synergies are manufactured from both orderly and random discourse.
Ever since I was a pre-teen I have been fascinated by the traditional understanding of meaning. What starts out as a memory soon becomes corroded into a theory of temptation, leaving only a sense of undefined and the dawn of a new undefined (or past undefined).
As subtle derivatives become transformed through studious and academic practice, the viewer is left with a glimpse of the undefined of our condition.
Oh also, these paintings are just going to be of lady actors, old computers and cats.

I feel the need to say thanks—especially for yesterday's November 27th show. I was stuck in a shitty I-5 traffic jam, in a rental car, in the pouring rain, and Street Sounds saved me from going ape-shit crazy. It is such an excellent three hours of radio every Sunday. Yours, Kelly O
Whenever I spin something by the French musician High Wolf, somebody inevitably approaches the decks and asks, “What is this?” (In a good way, not with face scrunched in distaste.) Last night at the Living Room during the bimonthly Prog! event (of which I’m a resident DJ with three others), I played High Wolf’s “Fuji Descent” and sure enough a dude came to the booth to inquire about it. This scenario has happened like nine times in the last year—a practically unprecedented phenomenon in my disc-jockeying experience. I'm curious to know if any other DJs have that one artist who never fails to elicit this sort of response; name names—we're all friends here.
Also please to note: High Wolf’s new album on Holy Mountain, Atlas Nation, is another essential addition to his growing canon of Fifth World psychedelic, spare-ritual music.
At midnight last night, the maniac behind Mad Rad and Fresh Espresso let fly a long-awaited second installment of his series, a collection of instrumentals and songs, so good it must be shared; guests include Radjaw, Buffalo Madonna, Rik Rude, Fatal Lucciauno, Shaprece Renee, Grynch, Darwin, Sharlese Metcalf, Brent Amaker, OC Notes, and Slow Dance...not to mention myself and Trent Moorman! Conflict Of Interest Alert! What will the commenters think? Who gives a rat's soggy ass? As P says himself on the banging "Prime Promo: "Haters gon' be haters, man, dog, I know."
A large but somewhat under-recognized part of Decibel Festival’s agenda involves its diverse conference of discussion panels and workshops. This year, I have the honor of participating in “The History of Electronic Music in Seattle” panel discussion. There will be knowledgeable folks talking about our city’s scene from the ’80s and ’90s; I’ll be tackling the ’00s (I moved here in late 2002 and began writing the Data Breaker column in 2003).
The last decade has seen a proliferation of excellent musicians, DJs, and club nights as well as a phenomenal rise in Seattle’s status as global electronic-music power, exemplified by the Decibel organization itself. I plan to spotlight and analyze the community’s many great contributions to electronic music and place them in some kind of international context. The panel takes place at noon on Sept. 28 at Fred Wildlife Refuge. It’s free and all ages.
My favorite aspect of Friday’s performance of Songs About Books was how much the songs felt like concentrated soundtracks to their respective books. If a novel is a 12-course feast, these were perfectly balanced little sushi rolls. The translation from book to song was a surprisingly successful synesthetic experience.
The show started with Alex Guy/Led to Sea, whose songs about Nabokov’s Pale Fire were immediately enveloping (my notes read: “never heard drums sound that much like the ocean before”), surrounding the room with waves of strings, her spiraling voice, and some strange and delightful pops and clicks and taps from unexpected places on the sides of instruments.
Next up was Ryan Barrett (of the Pica Beats), upon whom Paul Constant had, with deliberate cruelty and for his own entertainment, foisted Michel Houellebecq’s The Possibility of an Island. Paul worried aloud that Barrett might punch him in the face, but Barrett seemed pretty low-key, although he did let fly with my favorite quote of the night, on his reading experience: “Every page is like him [Houellebecq] pressing his prick ideas into my face.” My notes on his songs read: “dirty but exciting” and “sticky & angry.” (See Paul’s mash note to Barrett’s songs here.)
Tonight at Capitol Club, the first of more to come. Some dope folks (Ish, Tendai, OC Notes, Chocolate Chuck, Jonny Merlot AKA J.Moore, Cat and Stas) are spinning some cuts tonight and I'm one of them. Good times to be had.
Man, I was reeeally hoping my dog was in this too.

With Pizza Fest 2011 only a little more than one week away, competitive eaters are already making room in their stomachs for the 17" cheese pizzas that they will have to shove down their throats during the pizza competition happening on Saturday, the event's third and final night.
Last year, Owen Straw, a burly, bald semi-pro wrestler/comedian/Bill Collectors punk narrowly defeated a tall, skinny, 168 lb writer/hack in the eating competition. Ten minutes were allotted and extra-large cheese pizzas from Post Alley Pizza were to be eaten. In the final seconds of the competition, Straw put the last bits of his pie in his mouth. His fiercest competitor lost by a crust. The shirt the competitor wore into the competition: a Sub Pop LOSER t-shirt.
This year, tables are turning. Pizza Fest 2011 has wisely brought on Big Mario's to sling slices down at The Funhouse all weekend long, as well as provide the pies for the pizza eating competition. The pizza crusts are different, and the cheese is better (and richer). There are various ways to eat a Big Mario's pizza: rolled up, piled up, one-by-one, and by other rituals I would rather not disclose for training/competitive purposes.
I was last year's LOSER, and this year I'm confident about winning it. After various time trials, the average time it takes to inhale two slices of pizza clocks in around 1:15. Multiply that average by four (two slices is one-quarter of a whole pizza), with a gradual slowdown coming around the three-quarter mark, I'll be able to finish my pizza in under eight minutes.
So I'm issuing a challenge to Owen Straw: If I win, besides facing the Nelson "ha-ha" ridicule from me, he has to do anything of my choosing (nothing sexual, illegal, or physically harmful to innocent bystanders) that night on stage. He will also have to step down from competing at Pizza Fest 2012.
If he defends his title, I will attend a comedy night he's performing, and write a glowing review of it. If he has a new band, I'll write about that too. I will even let him publicly humiliate me that night on stage (come on, roast me!). Additionally, I will vow not to compete in next year's competition.
If neither of us wins, then nothing happens afterward. I guess that means we both win.
SO HOW ABOUT IT, OWEN STRAW? BRING IT ON!
Pizza Fest 2011 is Thursday August 4 to Saturday, August 6 at The Funhouse. The pizza eating competition is on Saturday at 10pm.