Case in point? Check out the all-capped, heavy bolds of a recent press release I was sent. It trumpets, "SEATTLE'S 'BEST ORIGINAL POP BAND' CHOSEN TO CELEBRATE THE APRIL 11 RELEASE OF UNIVERSAL PICTURES' JOSIE AND THE PUSSYCATS." Now, already, three things are needling me. First, there are the quotation marks surrounding "best original pop band." Next, SAYS WHO? Oh, a publicist from Universal Pictures, two DJs from KBSK, a Nordstrom special events coordinator, and a music critic from the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, that's who. Finally, there is the fact that Josie and the Pussycats--a cartoon I am old enough to have been thrilled about in its original run--should never have been made into a live-action film to begin with (but that's a tired, farty argument).
For years now, we've all been wondering just who Seattle's "best original pop band" is, and I'm here to tell you it's Roundabout (¿quien?), an ALL-BOY three-piece that plays music in the "rock tradition of Tom Petty," and with "the irresistible acoustic flavorings of Dave Matthews, and the pulsing rhythms of Third Eye Blind." (Oh, my aching aneurysm.) For all its originality, Roundabout (who took its name in tribute to Yes, of course) will be flown to Los Angeles for the fancypants premiere of Josie, where I hope to God someone has the decency to comment on why a trio of boys won a contest hyping a movie about a trio of girls who play in a rock band!
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Speaking of girls who play in a rock band, the Razorbabes fell into a bit of luck at the recent South by Southwest music conference in Austin, Texas. Mötley Crüe's Nikki Sixx happened to catch their set and loved the gals (who cover "Shout at the Devil") so much he offered to put them out on his label.
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To anyone who attended the Dave Wakeling show at my behest last weekend: SORRY. There've been a lot of changes in Wakeling's act since last I saw him, and none are for the better. Last Saturday's set at Graceland featured slowed tempos and a fake Ranking Roger that was nothing short of embarrassing for all concerned. And the crowd, well--let me just say that Mod doesn't age well in America! I dubbed the evening "The Ghost of Asses Past," and wished silently that I had worn a skirt.
I'm also sorry to report that Shane MacGowan's triumphant return to Seattle last Sunday at the Showbox made for the most boring big-name show of the year so far. One friend, before joining the mass exodus of disappointed MacGowan fans, likened the epically drunk Irishman's set to bad karaoke. Opener Watery Graves kicked absolute ass; the Showbox's gloriously loud sound system finally did this up-and-coming band justice. Murder City Devils debuted some new songs that were totally in contrast to their traditional sound, and I, for one, can't wait for a new album if that's what's in store. And to the guy who bobbed throughout the audience with an empty cup in hand, asking total strangers if they could "spare a spill?": Knock that shit off. Get a job, hippie.
