PHO BANG: THE GIRLS, THE BAD DATES
(Re-bar) So Pho Bang is pretty much always a veritable smorgasbord of punk rawk hotness, but this is fucking ridiculous. The Girls are all really hot guys. They play really hot music that sounds like Ric Ocasek and David Johansen porking while they play Roxy Music songs. The Bad Dates are four really hot gals and a sexy hunk-o-man drummer. They sound a bit like X-Ray Spex covering the Vandals and I swear to God that their lead singer is the product of some mind-blowing back-alley coupling between Darby Crash and Siouxsie Sioux. This show's gonna make your nipples hard. BILL BULLOCK
THE VELLS, THE ORANGES BAND, THE MAGIC MAGICIANS
(Chop Suey) You have no choice in the matter: No one can hear the Vells' eponymous Luckyhorse debut and not have a better day because of it. Members of Modest Mouse, Blessed Light, and Red Stars Theory make up the band, who create beautifully classic pop. As for the other bands, on the Magic Magicians' self-titled second album, guitarist John Atkins (764-HERO) and drummer Joe Plummer (Black Heart Procession) prove more volatile and cocksure than on the effervescent Girls, and Roman Kuebler heads up the chiming guitars of the Oranges Band, whose debut caught many an ear through its great title, Nine Hundred Miles of Fucking Hell. The Oranges' recently released All Around hits its stride with "Okay Apartment," a track that's a play on Radiohead. KATHLEEN WILSON
BRANFORD MARSALIS QUARTET FEATURING ELLIS MARSALIS
(Jazz Alley) Saxophonist and jazz aristocrat Branford Marsalis' latest CD is a tribute to 20th-century African-American painter Romare Bearden, Romare Bearden Revealed. Each piece is based on a painting, which in turn was inspired by or dedicated to a piece of jazz music. Bearden's work, like Pollock's, was directly influenced by jazz; he attempted to capture its rhythms, phrasings, and structures visually, as if the sound from a piano, drum, and trumpet had hit his canvas and cooled into bright and dark colors, curves, and forms. The CD is pure musicianship. Indeed, jazz is the last true art form. CHARLES MUDEDE
GINA GERSHON & GIRLS AGAINST BOYS, THE AMAZOMBIES
(Crocodile) It's no surprise that Gina Gershon is touring the week her rock bomb, Prey for Rock & Roll, opens, or that this show is a selection of the lame punk songs that clog its soundtrack. It also shouldn't be a surprise that having an actress leap into a singing slot isn't always a successful bridge of "talent" (in this case, Gershon's forced vocals sound like Chrissie Hynde sucking helium). The one surprise here is how she got such a good band--Girls Against Boys--to back her on this crap. I hope they're paying those guys shitloads of money. JENNIFER MAERZ
LADYSMITH BLACK MAMBAZO
(Moore Theatre) This is part of a recent conversation I had with my father, who is a big fan of South African music. Me: "How would you describe Ladysmith Black Mambazo's place in the history of South African popular music?" My old man, Ebenezer: "They didn't use instruments, and the way Mambazo performed was its own thing. It was music that emphasized the male voice [the bass, the tenor], with one person leading the performance, and the dancing they did was closer to traditional [Zulu, I think] dancing. Initially I think they were intending to capture traditional dancing as it should be done by the males. Their approach took off in South Africa, and later the world. It is a credit to Paul Simon that he found the real thing to perform on his record [Graceland]." CHARLES MUDEDE
FRIDAY 10/3
CAPTURED! BY ROBOTS, ESITU, SYLPHID, A PERFECT EXISTENCE
(Old Fire House) See Underage, page 49.
trailer bride, jesse sykes & the sweet hereafter, an american starlet
(Tractor Tavern) See preview, page 35.
PARTY TIME, BROADCAST OBLIVION (CD RELEASE), THE FITNESS, THE WILD HAIRS
(Sunset) It took a while, but Broadcast Oblivion's new CD is finished and ready to purchase. If you haven't heard word of this tight power-pop band featuring Dave Hernandez (Scared of Chaka, the Shins), Drew Church (the Droo Church), and Coady Willis (Murder City Devils, Dead Low Tide), then you must be a fool who hasn't picked up The Stranger in almost a year. KATHLEEN WILSON
CARLO, VEGAS IN FLAMES, JODIE WATTS
(Rainbow) Sometimes, especially during the changing of seasons, I need to be reminded to dig out a CD that may have gone missing in the clutter. Vegas in Flames' Despite the World was worth all the avalanches and rockslides it took to unearth, because it's pretty good, except for one song, which makes me think of L7, and that's not a good thing. Other than that, the duo of Heather and Jon Croft have a smart and vivacious package of songs that call to mind Hum, the Pixies, and Yo La Tengo. KATHLEEN WILSON
LOS HALOS, PINE MARTEN, VIVA VOCE
(Crocodile) Viva Voce's Lovers, Lead the Way! is a sweetly sung album that fronts with a big Oasis sound before revealing a shimmery pop heart flecked with banjo, organ, and dulcimer, among other instruments. (Imagine a less sarcastic Quasi.) Even if I hadn't noticed Dave Trumfio's credit in Pine Marten's Beautifulstakesandpowerpoles notes, I would have liked it anyway; it's just that the former Pulsars leader's touch is golden when it comes to pop albums. (Think how Built to Spill's There's Nothing Wrong with Love might sound like if you left it in the sun for a couple of years.) Los Halos have found a way to convey the lovely layers of shoegazer rock while using far less instrumentation. Grab up a copy of their new album on Loveless, Leaving VA, which came out last month. KATHLEEN WILSON
THE BOUNCING SOULS, TSUNAMI BOMB, STRIKE ANYWHERE, WANTED DEAD
(Graceland) Back when RKCNDY was still around, Bouncing Souls bumper stickers could be seen on every car parked within a one-mile radius of the club. The faded stickers would be peeling off rear windows, next to stickers for NOFX, Social Distortion, or the Mighty Mighty Bosstones, showing that it didn't matter whether you were a fan of punk, rock, or ska--everyone in the world liked the Bouncing Souls. Forming circa 1987 in New Jersey, and releasing their first full-length record in 1994, the Bouncing Souls have been around for over a decade, playing their harder-than-pop-punk flavored rock. Earlier this year, they released their eighth full-length, Anchors Aweigh, and while music trends have come and gone and come again, one thing still remains--everyone still loves the Bouncing Souls. Good thing they're playing two nights at Graceland this week. MEGAN SELING
BILLY TALENT, FLASHLIGHT BROWN
(Studio Seven) Even if it's done ironically, you're kinda putting yourself out there by sticking the word "talent" in your name when you're fresh off the shelf. Especially when, as with Billy Talent, at best your band sounds like a second-rate At the Drive-In/pop-punk Faith No More scramble, and at worst your singer sounds like a cat caught in the garbage disposal. JENNIFER MAERZ
SCENE CREAMERS, GLASS CANDY & THE SHATTERED THEATRE
(Vera Project) Scene Creamers are the latest incarnation of the wiry muse of Ian Svenonius, and theirs is the sort of typically two-sided approach that has jumped up through Svenonius' work with the Nation of Ulysses, the Make-Up, and, more recently, Weird War (i.e., destroy the scene through scene-defining spastic punk-gospel-funk). Their new album, I Suck on That Emotion, may lack Neil Hagerty's staggering licks (much loved on the Weird War record), but it delivers songs that get up in your grill and slap you around a little. His rhetoric aside, Svenonius' frenetic "look-at-me/don't-look-at-me" onstage antics make him a riveting performer--somebody smart enough to know there's not only a riot goin' on, but a show as well. JON PRUETT
Saturday 10/4
MODEST MOUSE, THE HELIO SEQUENCE, guests
(Showbox) See Stranger Suggests, page 21.
THE BOUNCING SOULS, TSUNAMI BOMB, STRIKE ANYWHERE, WANTED DEAD
(Graceland) See Friday's preview above.
THE MOUNTAIN GOATS, BAPTIST GENERALS
(Tractor) See Stranger Suggests, page 21.
ALTA MAY, THE GIRLS, THE LIGHTS, SIX ORGANS OF ADMITTANCE
(Graceland) Maybe you caught Ben Chasny (Mr. Six Organs of Admittance) contributing to the brain-scrambling maelstrom of San Francisco's Comets on Fire when they blew through town earlier this year. On his own, Chasny treads a much more subdued, folkadelic path. Singing in a hushed, opiated chant not unlike that of early Marc Bolan and Donovan, Chasny taps into your inner druid with hypnotic hymns that explore the nexus where acoustic-guitar god John Fahey meets Indian ragas. Supporting his enchanting forthcoming disc, Compath,a (Holy Mountain), Six Organs will purify you of the digital toxins spilling out of audio devices nowadays. DAVE SEGAL
THE CATHETERS, THE RIVERBOAT GAMBLERS, WATERY GRAVES
(Sunset) When it comes to national touring garage rock acts, the Riverboat Gamblers are hands-down at the top of their game. For practitioners of a genre that lends itself to slop, the Gamblers are musically tighter than a hangman's noose, but they live it up in person with frontman Mike Wiebe's inability to stay still--or remain on the stage. Their backing choruses and pop hooks help further punch out their songs, all of which leave no question as to why this awesome Denton, Texas band is a favorite of local boys the Catheters. Expect a big ol' rock 'n' roll party at this show. JENNIFER MAERZ
Sunday 10/5
THE BLOW, MIRAH, [[[VVRSSNN]]], THANKSGIVING, THE DIRTY PROJECTORS, PASH
(Aftermath Gallery) It's a difficult equation to tackle--the creation of a record that proposes to be at once aggressively minimal and engagingly intimate, of high-concept and lo-fi aesthetic, all French braided into the loose knot of a relatively accessible (if skewed) sequence of pop songs. But approach it from any of its incongruous angles, and the Blow's debut full-length still comes out with nearly all of its meandering, precocial ducks in a row--and then some. Marrying lone-member Khaela Maricich's familiar undulating synths, driving strings, basement beats, and breathy vocal stratum with a series of willfully oblique narratives (including elements of her Blue Sky vs. Night Sky performance piece, among others), The Concussive Caress offers the cognitive canyon's leap in conceptualism that finally fully realizes the long-palpable potential of its gifted creator. ZAC PENNINGTON
MOUNT EERIE, THE MOUNTAIN GOATS, THE BAPTIST GENERALS
(Department of Safety) At first glance, the juxtaposition seems pretty reasonable--two singer-songwriters with inexplicably devoted fan bases and teeming back catalogues, whose works are, by most stretches, emotionally taxing affairs--but at closer contrast, the sensibilities of Phil Elvrum and John Darnielle could hardly be more disparate. Darnielle's Mountain Goats, literate and literal, take great pride in dense, clear-pressed narratives (some stretching over dozens of songs) crammed in brilliantly square-pegged metaphor. By comparison, Elvrum's Mount Eerie (like his former Microphones) is a much more naturally obscure proposition--laid out like one long, wonder-infused narrative whose focus is in large part much more daunting: that of the encompassing experience of existence. ZAC PENNINGTON
Monday 10/6
RAEKWON, C-RAYZ WALZ, JFK, OUTER SPACE
(Chop Suey) See Stranger Suggests, page 21, and The Truth, page 39.
BLACK REBEL MOTORCYCLE CLUB, THE STRATFORD 4
(Showbox) Take the British shoegazer sound that Black Rebel Motorcycle Club roared, put it in the garage with the door sealed tight, pop it in neutral, and let it fuzz and blare full throttle--now you know what the Stratford 4 sound like. Stone Roses, the Boo Radleys' Giant Steps, Catherine Wheel's Ferment, Ride's Nowhere--hell, the Dandy Warhols' "Ride"--if any of these ring your bell, then so will the Stratford 4's Chris Walla-produced Love & Distortion. "Telephone" is a victoriously languid, eight-minute killer. KATHLEEN WILSON
Tuesday 10/7
ENON, IRVING, ANNA OXYGEN
(Chop Suey) See preview, page 33.
TURBONEGRO, AMULET, DJs LACEY PANTIES & RUBY KNUCKLES
(Graceland) See preview, page 33.
MY MORNING JACKET, PATRICK PARK
(Showbox) There seems to be a healthy change on the horizon for indie rock: People are finally relaxing and getting a pure, visceral pleasure out of music again. The alt-country psychedelia that unfurls majestically on My Morning Jacket's third record, It Still Moves, is a lovely example of this collective exhale. Refusing to choose between their personal indulgences (shameless boogie-rock jamming, gluttonous use of reverb) and their efforts at complex songwriting (flawless Beach Boy sheen, graceful, evocative lyrics), the Kentucky-based quintet have hit the jackpot by infusing classic rock with an oceanic ambiance that seems as naturally progressive as it is startlingly beautiful. What's more, any band that can count indie dorks and countrified hippies in its fan base is clearly doing something unprecedented--and overdue. HANNAH LEVIN
Wednesday 10/8
FIREBALL MINSTRY, PUNY HUMAN
(Hell's Kitchen) See Stranger Suggests, page 21.
Queens of the Stone Age, The Distillers
(Showbox) It pains me that such an excellent lineup (two of my favorite alt-rock radio bands at the moment) is unavailable to most of the public. The only way you can get into this private show is through the folks at 107.7 The End, who, while graciously offering free entrance, leave out all the fans who didn't win tickets. It's especially sad considering how awesome the Distillers' new album, Coral Fang, is, but rumor has it they'll be back next month. JENNIFER MAERZ
