The last time Klaxons played Seattle, they brought a new Portland band, Fist Fite (formerly Le Push), with them as their openers. It was the band's first show and it was fairly sloppy; in my column that week I called the band "bullshit." Apparently, I hit a serious nerve, because not only did the band write an invective-filled letter of complaint, they also altered the "About Fist Fite" section of their MySpace page to include me as a character in some absurd narrative plug for their debut, Downtown Canada (sic throughout):

"have you guys ever been to downtown canada? Dj Eric Fucking in the Streets from Seattle is thinking about moving there. Little does he know, that to get there you have to ride the back of dolphin while sexing up it's sex parts. Little does he also know, a shark will soon emerge from the water showing off it's glimmering white fangs in the hot magical sun. Little does he ALSO know, that no one has ever made it to downtown canada and he will die a horrible death along the way. or he'll get fucked by mer-men. which is you know, a mermaid with a huge dick."

Aw, that's sweet, guys. A little zoophilic/homophobic, but sweet. To the band's credit, their recorded songs sound pretty good, like a cross between fellow Portland synth punks Point Line Plane and the demented no wave of Les George Leningrad. Maybe they were just having first-show nerves last time. We'll see, because Fist Fite are once again opening for Klaxons on their West Coast dates including the July 12 show at Chop Suey.

recommended

Another band I may have been too quick to judge their last time through town (also at the Crocodile, hmmm...): Black Lips. They played a secret show at Capitol Hill's filthiest new hole in the wall, Pony, last Sunday. Black Lips' charm was lost on me at the Crocodile—the stage was too high, the crowd was too calm, and the sound was possibly too good. The Atlanta four piece's scuzzy, psychedelic garage pop almost demands trashier, sweatier conditions, which made the downstairs of Pony the perfect place to see them.

NRDLNGR and the Girls opened for the band. NRDLNGR's beats sounded as tight as ever, and he delivered his rhymes and punch lines right on the beat. For a dude doing joke raps about his meth lab and his infantile sexual exploits, he takes his craft pretty seriously. The Girls have simply never sounded better than they do now—taut and tense, but still beer spitting and fun.

At Pony, Black Lips played crammed onto a low stage in the corner, surrounded by fans, dripping with sweat (it gets hot down there), with brick, spray-painted plywood, and wheat-pasted gay porn as their backdrop. Their fuzzed-out moonshine stomp and dirty bubble-gum pop sounded sublime in that ersatz basement. It was like seeing them for the first time ("Dirty Hands" was a revelation). They're playing Seattle again in the fall with the Spits, and I'll be there, even if it's at a proper venue. recommended

egrandy@thestranger.com