I love this time of year, because second only to Aries, Geminis (and Gemini cusps like DJ Cherry Canoe) make up a whole lot of entertainers in this town--we're mercurial and have big, flappin' mouths. Two weekends ago I attended a Gemini party at the Sunset where Purty Mouth's Kurt B. Reighley celebrated by having a Scott Walker moment and doing a tear-jerking rendition of "Wichita Lineman." Max of the Sunset is also a Gemini, as is Sara from the Tractor, and Kwab Copeland of Burn Burn Burn Records (and the Sunset) gave me a nice gift, which I brandished over the heads of folks later that night at the Cha Cha: three seven-inches, including the new Broadcast Oblivion "Her Arsenal"/"We Burn Away." I also got Holy Ghost Revival's "Hot Love in a Berlin Bombshelter"/"Tumbleweed" (it was so nicely packaged, with a rose-stamped drop of candle wax, that I almost didn't want to open it), and a split single featuring Steve Turner and Jesse Sykes & the Sweet Hereafter. I caught Holy Ghost Revival's live set at the Green Room a couple of days later and talk about tight pants! Later, the Loveless and Goodnight Trail tore what's left of my eardrums to shreds--Jesus! Just because you love the Ramones doesn't mean you have to be as loud as them. Both bands put on great shows, though.

Gemini Justin Schwartz of Cobra High celebrated the release of his band's CD Sunset in the Eye of the Hurricane at Graceland just two days before his birthday (same day as Natalie Portman and my mom). The band played two shows (all-ages and 21+) with the Magic Magicians who, as far as I know, contain no Geminis but are as fun as a barrel of them. The night before that, however, Fruit Bats singer Eric Johnson celebrated his birthday by putting on one of the best shows I've seen this year at Graceland. If you haven't bought a copy of Mouthfuls, out on Sub Pop, you're dumb. Earlier that night, a whole bunch of death metal bands had played, including Grave, a bunch of gnarly Swedes who hung around for the second show and made absolute pests of themselves all night--AND kept their dorky laminates on while doing so. Thank god for the nice people who work at Graceland--twice they had to throw a member of the band out of the ladies' room. I hollered at the guy the second time when he walked in after me then stood in front of the mirror washing his hands. I cursed up a storm, ripping him and his crusty outfit up one side and down the other (Gemini, remember), then pointed to the sign on the door, to which he replied, "I don't give a shit." Problem is, he did. After my tirade I took a breath and inhaled an awful stench. I started gagging as I got sweet bartender Jason to throw the guy out AGAIN. Much air freshener was sprayed but the smell persisted until it was realized that the big, scary, leather-and-laminate-wearin' death metal guy had pooped his baby pants. HAW!

I'll be running myself ragged on Friday, June 13, which is my birthday (as well as Ashley and Mary-Kate Olsen's), and Yo La Tengo and the Clean will be at the Showbox, Visqueen will be at the Crocodile, and the Whip and my new boyfriends Party Time will be at Graceland.

Oh, and while Triumph of Lethargy Skinned to Death Alive is a Spencer Moody project, it's not the one that includes Dan and Mike from godheadSilo. Sorry. The name of this column has changed, not its memory-challenged writer.

kathleen@thestranger.com

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