A Nation Vomits

Nearly a week after their Belltown debut (as opposed to their Ballard debut--or, before that, their Portland debut), the guys of Broadcast Oblivion still have local showgoers raving about their energetic blend of pop, power, and smarts, even though singer Dave Hernandez seemed to be making up the lyrics to at least one song as he went along. Perhaps it was pre-show jitters and pre-show libations that led to the improvisation. I say go with what you know and don't be so shy, because it's clear to all who attended that another great new local band has stepped into the ring. Speaking of that, last week I got into a conversation with some folks who share my opinion that 2003 is the year for Seattle to shine once again. "Seems like a lot of us were saying that very same thing about 2002," someone correctly commented. Yes, I think many of us were saying 2002 was the year for a relaunch. But you know what? 2002 was practice. All that workup and all those false starts (Dead Low Tide?), stutters, and farewells (Botch) have made way for the parting of a glorious red velvet curtain--and for the bright spotlight that the nation will once again place on our newest, brightest crop of talent. Just you watch. Hell, only a day after the new deal between Matador Records and Pretty Girls Make Graves was finalized, the news--that the band had joined the label ranks of Interpol, Cat Power, Guided by Voices, Aerogramme, Mogwai, Yo La Tengo, and that heavy-as-hell Dead Meadow I like so much--hit the streets in the brand-new issue of Spin. Looks like someone over at Matador was pretty damn sure of themselves, eh, Nils?

When I get bored, I like to check out how the non-locals are reviewing our bands. I had to laugh at one West Coaster's evaluation of Minus the Bear's performance (opening for the Walkmen in Pomona): The review compared lead guitarist Dave K. to Eddie Van Halen. Hee.

You may have heard me "marveling" at Dave Grohl's unbelievable knack for being in the right place at the right time. He's appeared on stage and on television with nearly every damn band that has a spot in rock-and-roll's Hall of Fame, and now it looks like he'll be filling in for John Bonham if Led Zeppelin finally decides to drag their saggy asses on tour. Sometimes I wonder who signed the bigger deal with the devil--Dave or Courtney. But I swear to God, given how randomly and ubiquitously Grohl shows up in the big time, I wouldn't bat an eye if Liza Minnelli announced that she and Dave were hitting the road together.

And I've been mum on Courtney's Love's antics of late, but c'mon, now! A nation pauses to vomit over her claim that Elton John has asked her to perform "Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me" during his February 5 benefit to save the Old Vic theater in London. On Monday, February 3, the New York Post's Page Six was aflame with reports that the Crazy Lady was on the blower something fierce, trying to procure herself a "perfect" outfit for the honor. She'd better have the perfect outfit, because it's a no-brainer that C. L. is going to make a shambles of that beautiful song, in front of the queen, God, ELTON, and everyone. Even I've got the pre-show jitters, and I'm scrambling for a bucket just imagining the attention-grabbing, no-underpants-wearing, rasping rendition the Crazy Lady is sure to turn in.