It takes three days for alcohol to leave your system. Happy New Year.

SHINEHEAD, SISTER LUV & J. B.
(Bohemian) It sucks to lay the foundation for a popular musical phenomenon and then just become an afterthought yourself. Ask Shinehead. He grew up in both Jamaica and the Bronx and then parlayed his dual heritage into a rap-reggae style that he has actually nearly perfected in the last decade. But he never got the widespread recognition he deserved, and as Shinehead's albums collected dust in the stores, acts like Shabba Ranks came in, expanded on Shinehead's dancehall groundwork, and then bogarted all the fame and fortune for themselves. As for Shinehead, he's playing the Bohemian in Pioneer Square and would make a great subject for Where Are They Now?--except for the fact that he was, quite unfortunately, never anywhere back then. NATHAN THORNBURGH

HEAVY METAL PARKING LOT 2000
(Sit & Spin) Tonight's event includes a screening of the film Heavy Metal Parking Lot 2000, a live performance by the band Drunk as Usual, and a raffle for tickets to the upcoming Pantera show. The original Heavy Metal Parking Lot was filmed in a Maryland parking lot outside of a Judas Priest concert. It painted a fascinating picture of a slice of American life not yet embraced by the mainstream--namely, heavy metal fans doing their metal thang. Now it's the 21st century, everything old is new again, and heavy metal is staging a comeback. Riding on its coattails is the production Heavy Metal Parking Lot 2000 (oops, the title's already dated), whose only relation to the original is its name and subject matter. This time the action takes place at various metal concerts around the Northwest, and the crowds are just as boisterous, obnoxious, and pitiful as the first time around. This installment, however, lacks the charm of the original and reeks of cynicism and desperation. The filmmakers lead their subjects with heavy-handed questions designed to elicit chuckle-worthy responses, or, failing that, just to get them to show their tits. DAN PAULUS

SMITHS COVER NIGHT
(Crocodile) Members of Super Deluxe, Death Cab for Cutie, and the Posies will all be performing Smiths covers at this evening's Crocodile event, another in a seemingly unending stream of cover nights that have taken place in Seattle in recent months. If that's your cup of tea, I can hardly think of a worthier band to honor. Let's hope someone has the balls to do "Shakespeare's Sister," and do it well. JEFF DeROCHE

STAR KISSED
(I-Spy) Leave your Y chromosomes at the door; tonight is the night the XXs come out to play, and some of their finest reps will hit the decks. Playing standard main-floor raiders, behold the lovely Special K and Julie Herrera of the dearly departed Hotbox; returning from the East Coast, Miss Linda Kennedy; in the Mezzanine, DJ Wasabi kicking old-skool hiphop and the always-trashy good time that is Miami booty-bass, and Giselle with her swoony Euro trance records. Add a full bar, a little hip-to-hip grind action, and there may just be another X tacked on those first two. Sometimes it's good to be a girl, no? LEAH GREENBLATT

MARILYN MANSON, COLD
(Mercer Arena) It's doubtful that modern show biz offers a man more misunderstood than Marilyn Manson. He's adored by legions of black-clad suburban youths hungry for a McRevolution because, let's face it, nothing pisses your parents off as quickly as some guy in scary makeup and assless pants. The sad truth of the matter is that Manson's ability as an entertainer and artist often gets completely overlooked in the hysterical overreaction to the persona behind the music. His last couple of albums (the glam-tinged Mechanical Animals and the recently released, heavy-hitting Holy Wood) dwarf the competition in both concept and execution. His live shows? Equally provocative and entertaining. In fact, Manson's real problem seems to be that he's too smart for either his audience or his detractors. Let's face it: When a vapid, soulless cartoon character like Dubya can be elected president, we need Marilyn Manson like never before. BARBARA MITCHELL

LIVING DAYLIGHTS
(Sit & Spin) There's a fine line between successful musical experimentation and an abstraction so total that you lose the audience. The Living Daylights tread this line carefully, and for the most part stay on the former side of it. Though their jazz-fused-with-everything-else formula may seem a recipe for disaster, they are in fact very good at holding things together, losing neither groove nor momentum. They're also delightfully unpretentious and accessible. GENEVIEVE WILLIAMS

ROBIN HOLCOMB & WAYNE HORVITZ
(Tractor Tavern) Robin Holcomb is ostensibly a folk singer from UC Santa Cruz, but her music is actually much more interesting than one might think. Her taste for dissonance is what sets her apart from the folksy crowds: She mixes plenty of jazz, world, and avant-garde elements in with her strange vocals and beautiful piano playing. What's more, her marriage to Wayne Horvitz makes her half of one of the Northwest's most formidable entertainment couples, the star power of which would only be challenged if Kathi Goertzen got it on with that lopsided little freak from Evening Magazine. NATHAN THORNBURGH

PROTOPLASM FEATURING SIENTIFIC AMERICAN AND DRUM AND TUBA
(I-Spy) Here's another one of those "experimental" weekly events, assigned to the school-night ghetto--in this case, Sundays. It pledges to "bring together artists and bands pushing the envelope of progressive acoustic and electronic beat-based music, along with a dazzling visual component." Stuff like this always introduces the dreaded Emperor's New Clothes Syndrome: Is it bona fide capital "A" Art, or is it merely more pretentious crap I have to pretend to understand when I'd rather be home watching Felicity? Tonight's events are hosted by Ota-Prota, who walk a fine line between hippie-pleasing funk explorations and edgy psychedelic rock cacophony. Guests include the cream of Seattle's current experimental noisemaker crop, from cut-and-paste prince Sientific American to Drum and Tuba, a two-drummer and tuba breakbeat band with guests Andy Sells of FCS North and Eyvind Kang. Future lineups promise IQU, Voyager One, and even members of the Roots. As long as you've learned to program your VCR, I would get off the couch and come on down to give this night a shot. LEAH GREENBLATT

RICK BISHOP & JASON GLOVER, THE BEDS, MAXIMUM COHERENCE DURING FLYING
(I-Spy) Rick Bishop is at the forefront of one of Seattle's greatest underground bands, the Sun City Girls, and Jason Glover is a member of Tripod, an improv ensemble that damaged Capitol Hill's Habitat Espresso last summer in a macabre possession. Portland's Beds are a wonderful duo you won't want to miss, featuring drums and assorted instruments (guitar, sax, electronics, and a sampler), and Maximum Coherence During Flying combine lounge, rock opera, new wave, and circus licks together in a nice, hyper-retro way bound to please your sensitive side. KREG HASEGAWA

McCOY TYNER TRIO
(Jazz Alley) It's impressive that McCoy Tyner is still gigging and shredding in the year 2001. After all, it's been 40 years since Tyner started playing with Coltrane in Philadelphia, and back then none of those players seemed built to last. They got abused by the pressures of poverty, drugs, and widespread criticism of their style, and somehow most of them died young. But Tyner, who was forever in Coltrane's shadow, is still alive and now being rewarded by jazz's almost servile quest to honor its elders. He travels the world, is rich enough to live off crab and champagne if he wants to, and most importantly, he has all jazz pianists under the age of 40 lining up to admit that they're just poor imitations of the player he was in 1963. I predict he'll do some richly deserved gloating at the Jazz Alley. NATHAN THORNBURGH

BLUE GLOVE CLUB
(OK Hotel) Whitney Balliett observes a "conundrum" about jazz in a New Yorker article about Ken Burns' new PBS documentary. It's brought about by the fact that jazz only comprises three percent of the CD market (dead), yet was the subject of 50-plus books published last year (alive), and is played every night around the country (alive again). Seattle's own Blue Glove Club improvises on this theme. The "blue gloves" referred to here are the latex gloves used by medical students to examine cadavers (dead). But the tunes by this wonderful trio add lightning (Frankenstein) to this dead body and make it sexy and virile ("It's alive!"). This transmogrified monster will make you want to wiggle your pelvis to the funk-infused, swinging tempo in a way that may be decadent, but is definitely not dead. KREG HASEGAWA

HOLLYWOOD MIKE MIRANDA
(Zak's) This snotty group of punks take their name from high-profile, neon-pink bike-riding BMXer Hollywood Mike Miranda from the 1986 BMX movie RAD. The show will feature Dylan of local "cool guy" fame, back from his own high-profile shoulder injury incurred while stage diving in front of thousands of people at the Murder City Devils EMP show earlier this year. Dumbass new-schoolers just don't know how to catch a guy. There will hardly be thousands on hand to see tonight's antics, but there will be fun to be had for those who dare. MARK DUSTON