Live Reviews

The Selector: August 21 – 27, 2013

Michael Redmond
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0

God is dead?

WEDNESDAY 8/21

 

“German Summer Films”

Though the Goethe Institut’s latest film series is dubbed “German Summer Films,” it offers a refreshingly loose interpretation of the theme. For example, the first film, Color of the Ocean (2010), is from German director Maggie Peren, but it’s set in Spain’s Canary Islands, and features an international cast in its tale of a border patrol officer (Alex González) who meets a German woman (Sabine Timoteo) entangled with a Congolese refugee (Hubert Koundé). (That said, the second film in the series, 2005’s Summer in Berlin, is more or less the quintessential “German summer film.”) The rest of the series includes acclaimed German-Turkish director Fatih Akin’s 2000 In July; and a 2009 made-for-TV adaptation of Jack London’s Sea Wolf starring Sebastian Koch (2006’s The Lives of Others). (Cheryl Eddy)

Wednesdays through Sept 18

6:30pm, $5 donation

Goethe Institut San Francisco

530 Bush, Second Flr, SF

goethe.de/sanfrancisco

THURSDAY 8/22

 

Cool Ghouls

Bay Area natives Cool Ghouls are fun, reckless, rude garage-rock goofballs and they know it. It’s virtually impossible to attend one of their live shows and not feel the same chill vibes they give off. The group released its self-titled full-length debut album in April of this year, and has been playing shows on it locally since. The Ghouls’ scratchy-screamy vocals backed by playful guitar riffs and tumbling percussion resonated with the young SF crowds and landed them gigs most recently at Bottom of the Hill, the Chapel, Hemlock Tavern, Brick and Mortar, and the summery Phono del Sol fest. Their enjoyably sunny sound was the perfect match. If they get much bigger, their house-party image might have to expand. So catch them while you can, and while they’re still cool. (Hillary Smith)

With Lemme Adams, Black Cobra Vipers

9pm, $10

Bottom of the Hill

1233 17th St., SF

(415) 626-4455

www.bottomofthehill.com

THURSDAY 8/22

 

Melvins

And they said a stoner metal cover of Roxy Music’s “In Every Dream Home a Heartache” couldn’t be done. Well, sludge metal veterans the Melvins are here to prove them wrong. The longstanding band is making a voyage to Slim’s to play its 2013 cover album, Everybody Loves Sausages. Get ready for things to get a little weird and campy, as a bunch of middle aged dudes play a diverse selection of tunes throughout the ages. Embarking on their 30th anniversary tour, the Melvins will be playing songs by artists such as freak folk band the Fugs, the dear and departed drag queen Divine (John Waters’ muse), Queen, David Bowie, and the Jam. In short: don’t miss this hit parade. (Erin Dage)

With Honky

9pm, $22

Slim’s

333 11th St, SF

(415) 255-0333

www.slimspresents.com

FRIDAY 8/23

 

No Age

The newest album from LA noise-punks No Age, An Object, seems almost restrained compared to the bombast of previous records like 2010’s Everything in Between. With An Object, there’s a sense of tense build-up without release, tightly coiled guitar lines over paranoid drumming, and faraway hollers on the Sub Pop record, which comes out Aug. 20. Like much arty post-punk, it makes you feel like you’re holding your breath for the entirety of the tracks, unable to unclench. Relax and settle in: the experiment of An Object is a success, and the album is worthy of passionate intake. Continuing down the experimental route, the duo takes its live show to a more unexpected location this time: the Berkeley Art Museum and Pacific Film Archive. And if you miss this stop, No Age will be back in Oakland Sept. 28 for the Station to Station fest at 16th St. Station. (Emily Savage)

With Devin Gary and Ross, Sun Foot

7:30pm (doors at 5pm), $7

Berkeley Art Museum and Pacific Film Archive

2625 Durant, Berk.

www.bampfa.berkeley

FRIDAY 8/23

 

Nahko and Medicine for the People

Aptly named, Nahko and Medicine for the People seem like some sort of sonic cure. Nahko Bear’s versatile vocals range from a howling, soulful croon to a bouncing, jovial talk-sing. The indefinable quality of the group is further pushed in lyrics “I am a killer whale, I am a lion, I am a panther, I am coyote, I’m just a human being on another fuckin’ journey,” in “Warrior People.” According to their website, Bear is joined on stage by “truth seekers for whom Nahko’s story resonates with their own.” Nahko himself was born a mix of Apache, Puerto Rican, and Filipino cultures and adopted into an American family. Consequently, he suffered from an identity crisis at a young age. The mission of the band is simply to make people feel good, and to give solace to the culturally alienated. They do all that and then some. (Smith)

With Saritah

9pm, $15

Independent

628 Divisadero, SF (415) 771-1421

www.theindependentsf.com

FRIDAY 8/23

 

The Parmesans

Local countrified indie-folksters the Parmesans released their full-length debut, Wolf Eggs, this week. The record’s full of swoony multipart harmonies, plucky instruments, and a chipper sense of hot-sauced humor. All of that is on fine display in track, “Load Up on Eggs and Bacon,” which begins with a solo voice, “when I wake up/I feel shaken” then layered barbershop quartet-style with additional harmonies, “load up on eggs and bacon,” and the sound of an egg cracking. Add to that the strings of guitars and mandolins and banjos, bellowing trumpet, and a light and tight rhythm section. Then bake on high. Oh, and be sure to check the new video for “JuJaJe,” also off Wolf Eggs; there’s no food involved, unfortunately, but the sparse little vid does feature the boys clowning around in various states of lounge. Perhaps there’ll be egg on their faces in the next one. (Savage)

With Before the Brave, Garden Party, Greg Downing

9pm, $10

Thee Parkside

1600 17th St, SF

www.theeparkside.com

SATURDAY 8/24

 

“Sneak Peek at the Fringe”

The colorfully creative chaos that is the 22nd San Francisco Fringe Festival is mere weeks away (it runs Sept. 6-21), but diehards and early birds can check out excerpts from works by eight local companies tonight. Among them: Amy K. Kilgard’s multi-character solo performance, Triskaidekaphobia: 13 Consumer Tragedies; Sean Andries and Siouxsie Q’s tale of a love affair between a mermaid and a tourist, Fish-girl; Maria Grazia Affinato’s autobiographical ode to her Italian family, Eating Pasta Off the Floor; and Genie and Audrey’s Dream Show!, featuring Genie Cartier, Audrey Spinazola, and a “cat piano.” For all the deets — and complete info on the upcoming full fest, visit the Fringe’s website. (Cheryl Eddy)

8pm, free

Exit Theatre

156 Eddy, SF

www.sffringe.org

SUNDAY 8/25

 

San Francisco Bacon and Beer Festival

For the first time ever, San Francisco will host an almighty bacon and beer fest. The Boston version of the event has sold out in under 10 minutes the past three years. Chefs from more than 25 Bay Area companies presenting their best bacon dishes and local craft breweries bringing out their finest for the $50 event are reasons enough to attend the unique gathering. If you’d like one more reason to spend the cash, take comfort in the fact that all admission proceeds will be donated to Sprouts Cooking Club. The club is a Bay Area organization that strives to teach children of all socio-economical backgrounds how to cook hands-on with real chefs, using real ingredients, in real restaurants. (Smith)

2:30pm, $50

Fairmont San Francisco Hotel

950 Mason, SF

(415) 772-5000

Facebook: San Francisco Bacon and Beer Festival

 

MONDAY 8/26

 

Deerhunter

Many who have flirted with musical greatness have also teetered on the fine line between eccentricity and insanity, and Deerhunter frontperson Bradford Cox is no exception. While the Atlanta band’s garage rock albums continue to receive glowing reviews and growing numbers of dedicated fans, Cox’s mental (in)stability has also been featured center stage in the group’s evolution. His charming eccentricities — rambling and semi-incoherent stage banter — are shadowed with more off-putting stunts, as when Cox responded to a fan’s snarky request for “My Sharona” with an hour-long cover of the song in Minneapolis. A Deerhunter show is many things — insane, beautiful, confusing, and frequently very moving — but there is one thing it will never manage to be. Bradford Cox will never be boring. (Haley Zaremba)

With Lonnie Holley, Avey Tare’s Slasher Flicks

8pm, $21

Great American Music Hall

859 O’Farrell, SF

(415) 885-0750

www.slimspresents.com

MONDAY 8/26

 

Évocateur: The Morton Downey Jr. Movie

A trashy pop-culture icon, a chain smoker, a right-wing maniac, a finger-jabbing screamer so notorious his fans were called “Loudmouths:” Morton Downey Jr. was one of a kind, and that’s probably for the best. New documentary Évocateur: The Morton Downey Jr. Movie screens tonight in San Rafael and opens August 28 at the Roxie; it looks at his legacy through clips of Downey’s train-wreck-in-progress talk show and features interviews with the likes of Pat Buchanan, Alan Dershowitz, and Sally Jesse Raphael. (Eddy)

7:15pm, $6.50–$10.75

Christopher B. Smith Rafael Film Center

1118 Fourth St, San Rafael

www.cafilm.org

MONDAY 8/26

 

Black Sabbath

Before reality television and famous flame-haired wives, even before that bloody bat-biting incident, Ozzy Osbourne was simply a wild-eyed young boy from a hardscrabble town who, together with guitarist Tony Iommi and drummer Bill Ward, formed the world’s first heavy metal group. Black Sabbath has become a hardened, bellowing legend, though in recent years was mostly relegated to playing metal fests like Mayhem, or Ozzy solo at Ozzfest. This year, however, the original group released its first new album together in decades, 13, a lumbering return to form produced by Rick Ruben. With it came instantly timeless first single, “God is dead?” an eight-minute metal epic. Beyond all the hype, myth, and druggy tabloid brouhaha, a vital band still stands before us, wicked as it ever was, and willing to crowd-please with old tracks mixed in with the new. According to live reviews of this headlining non-fest tour, the band has been opening with “War Pigs.” (Savage)

7:30pm, $40–$149.50

Shoreline Amphitheatre

One Amphitheatre Parkway, Mountain View

www.livenation.com

TUESDAY 8/27

 

The Breeders

Celebrating the 20th anniversary of their breakthrough album Last Splash, ’90s favorites the Breeders released a special deluxe version of the record earlier this year on CD (a seven-disc vinyl version is set to drop next month on 4AD), featuring a host of bonus live tracks, demos, a photo booklet, and more. The classic lineup of the band — Kim and Kelley Deal, Josephine Wiggs and Jim MacPherson — has reunited and is promising Bay Area fans it will perform Last Splash, which was recorded right here in San Francisco, in its entirety, along with its seminal debut effort, Pod. (Sean McCourt)

8pm, $30

Fillmore

1805 Geary, SF

(415) 346-6000

www.thefillmore.com

Heads Up: 8 must-see concerts this week

Tony Robles
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2

The Internet never forgets. I realized this yet again today after discovering the complete 1979 BBC documentary, Who Is Poly Styrene, and with the more globally appealing announcement that it looks like JT and the rest of the ‘N Sync gang will perform at MTV’s Video Music Awards, Sunday. Oh and Cher has a new video, which is her first in 12 years! There may be hope for you yet, Gotye (the coffee shop I was at this morning played his hit, which reminded me of his existence.) 

Anyways, this week (and slightly beyond), the Bay Area will host both legendary and up-and-coming must-sees, with the Melvins, Black Sabbath, My Bloody Valentine topping the list, along with Deerhunter and No Age, and newbies the Parmesans, the She’s, and Ovvl. All acts to catch if you have the chance (and you do, see below).

Here are your must-see shows: 

The She’s
“If you walked anywhere in the downtown area during July, you’re probably already familiar with the She’s. The band was featured by the Converse Represent campaign, and its image, pushing a drum kit up one of SF’s trademarked hills, has been boldly splashed around the city. Converse chose well. The She’s embody all the youth, DIY attitude, and vintage pop that San Francisco loves. Their debut album, appropriately titled Then It Starts To Feel Like Summer, retrofits dreamy ’60s pop with a crackling teenage energy (these ladies are still in high school) and they’re finishing up a much-anticipated EP, tentatively titled We’re not Best Coast (But They’re Cool Too). The band, which has credited much of its success to the open and supportive SF music scene, is giving back tonight at Bottom of the Hill, where it’s headlining this Save KUSF Benefit.” — Haley Zaremba
With the Yes Go’s, False Priest
Tue/20, $10, 9pm
Bottom of the Hill
1233 17th St, SF
www.bottomofthehill.com
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LoRGt9PjXGA

The Melvins
“And they said a stoner metal cover of Roxy Music’s “In Every Dream Home a Heartache” couldn’t be done. Well, sludge metal veterans the Melvins are here to prove them wrong. The longstanding band is making a voyage to Slim’s to play its 2013 cover album, Everybody Loves Sausages. Get ready for things to get a little weird and campy, as a bunch of middle aged dudes play a diverse selection of tunes throughout the ages. Embarking on their 30th anniversary tour, the Melvins will be playing songs by artists such as freak folk band the Fugs, the dear and departed drag queen Divine (John Waters’ muse), Queen, David Bowie, and the Jam. In short: don’t miss this hit parade.” — Erin Dage
With Honky
Thu/22, 9pm, $22
Slim’s
333 11th St, SF
(415) 255-0333
www.slimspresents.com
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z1mi_zvk0yQ

No Age
The newest album from LA noise-punks No Age, An Object, seems almost restrained compared to the bombast of previous records like 2010’s Everything in Between. With An Object, there’s a sense of tense build-up without release, tightly coiled guitar lines over paranoid drumming, and faraway hollers on the Sub Pop record, which comes out Aug. 20. Like much arty post-punk, it makes you feel like you’re holding your breath for the entirety of the tracks, unable to unclench. Relax and settle in: the experiment of An Object is a success, and the album is worthy of passionate intake. Continuing down the experimental route, the duo takes its live show to a more unexpected location this time: the Berkeley Art Museum and Pacific Film Archive. And if you miss this stop, No Age will be back in Oakland Sept. 28 for the Station to Station fest at 16th St. Station.
With Devin Gary and Ross, Sun Foot
Fri/23, 7:30pm (doors at 5pm), $7
Berkeley Art Museum and Pacific Film Archive
2625 Durant, Berk.
www.bampfa.berkeley
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZVb4QyF8fDY

My Bloody Valentine
“This is the reunion for which we dared not hope. Until this year, My Bloody Valentine’s genre-defining masterstroke of the shoegaze movement, 1991’s Loveless, was the last we had heard from the Irish-English band, and as a result, it was canonized as one of those pristine, “perfect” albums, frozen in time and untainted by inferior follow-ups. And then, this past Groundhog Day, the unthinkable happened: after an excruciating, 22-year wait, and countless broken promises, bandleader Kevin Shields casually posted a new record, mbv, on the web, In Rainbows style, surprising his diehard fans with the legendary third album they had been hopelessly fantasizing about only a week before. This Friday, My Bloody Valentine will pay a visit to the Bill Graham Civic Auditorium for their first SF show since the early ’90s.” — Taylor Kaplan
With Beachwood Sparks, Lumerians
Fri/23, 8pm, $45
Bill Graham Civic Auditorium
99 Grove, SF
(415) 624-8900
www.billgrahamcivicauditorium.com
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FyYMzEplnfU

The Parmesans
Local countrified indie-folksters the Parmesans released their full-length debut, Wolf Eggs, this week. The record’s full of swoony multipart harmonies, plucky instruments, and a chipper sense of hot-sauced humor. All of that is on fine display in track, “Load Up on Eggs and Bacon,” which begins with a solo voice, “when I wake up/I feel shaken” then layered barbershop quartet-style with additional harmonies, “load up on eggs and bacon,” and the sound of an egg cracking. Add to that the strings of guitars and mandolins and banjos, bellowing trumpet, and a light and tight rhythm section. Then bake on high.. (Savage)
With Before the Brave, Garden Party, Greg Downing
Fri/23, 9pm, $10
Thee Parkside
1600 17th St, SF
www.theeparkside.com
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Srcmhe1ogg

Ovvl
“If you’ve been to a local metal show in recent months, chances are Ovvl was on the bill. If not, there was probably an Ovvl member standing next to you in the crowd. But, hesher, stop now if you’ve been taking ’em for granted. With a new album and tours on the horizon, the four-piece is about to be mighty scarce around these parts.” — Cheryl Eddy
With Crag Dweller
Sat/24, 9pm, $5
Bender’s Bar and Grill
806 S. Van Ness, SF
www.bendersbar.com
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V6Up1tS8fOs

Black Sabbath
Before reality television and famous flame-haired wives, even before that bloody bat-biting incident, Ozzy Osbourne was simply a wild-eyed young boy from a hardscrabble town who, together with guitarist Tony Iommi and drummer Bill Ward, formed the world’s first heavy metal group. This year, Black Sabbath released its first new album together in decades, 13, a lumbering return to form produced by Rick Ruben. With it came instantly timeless first single, “God is dead?” an eight-minute metal epic. Beyond all the hype, myth, and druggy tabloid brouhaha, a vital band still stands before us, wicked as it ever was, and willing to crowd-please with old tracks mixed in with the new. According to live reviews of this headlining non-fest tour, the band has been opening with “War Pigs.”
Mon/26, 7:30pm, $40–$149.50
Shoreline Amphitheatre
One Amphitheatre Parkway, Mountain View
www.livenation.com
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OhhOU5FUPBE

Deerhunter
“Many who have flirted with musical greatness have also teetered on the fine line between eccentricity and insanity, and Deerhunter frontperson Bradford Cox is no exception. While the Atlanta band’s garage rock albums continue to receive glowing reviews and growing numbers of dedicated fans, Cox’s mental (in)stability has also been featured center stage in the group’s evolution. His charming eccentricities — rambling and semi-incoherent stage banter — are shadowed with more off-putting stunts, as when Cox responded to a fan’s snarky request for “My Sharona” with an hour-long cover of the song in Minneapolis. A Deerhunter show is many things — insane, beautiful, confusing, and frequently very moving — but there is one thing it will never manage to be. Bradford Cox will never be boring.” — Haley Zaremba
With Lonnie Holley, Avey Tare’s Slasher Flicks
Mon/26, 8pm, $21
Great American Music Hall
859 O’Farrell, SF
(415) 885-0750
www.slimspresents.com
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G5RzpPrOd-4

The Hangover: Jan. 25-29

Tony Robles
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1

Jounce with us, if you will, through the Guardian staff’s frenzied weekend. Here’s our live reviews, hot raging, random sightings.

***Classy is, somehow, the wrong word for a quality show at Yoshi’s – but elegant is an appropriate descriptor, especially considered the dapper ladies and gentlemen assembled on Wednesday night for Red Bull Music Academy’s presention of Gary Bartz, featuring young buck R&B devils Aloe Blacc and Bilal. It takes a certain level of grace for a venerable saxophonist like Bartz to give up the spotlight, but Bilal’s tear-jerkingly masterful roar-to-whisper rendition of “Body and Soul,” and Blacc’s swaggerful performance of his hit “I Need a Dollar” were well-choreographed breaks in the venerable saxophonist’s riff and trills. (Caitlin Donohue)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZFQphn_hu0

***On Friday night I experienced an Outerlands sit-down dinner for the first time, and it was nothing short of magical. You can always expect a bit of a wait at this earthy, intimate gathering place known for its Tartine-esque bread, savory soups, and mason-jarred drinks because of the place’s popularity-to-table ratio. But ordering an opening beer from a list that will impress even the haughtiest of San Francisco beer snobs stoked my epicurean anticipation and made the slight wait (dare I say?) enjoyable. I indulged in an Aventinus (or two), the warm manilla clam and fennel salad, and the fresh cavatelli with wild mushrooms, winter squash, rapini, and parmesan. (Mia Sullivan)

***The pure indie-pop bliss of Adios Amigo drew me in Friday night at the Hemlock. Led by Il Gato drummer/Adios Amigo guitarist-vocalist Johnny Major, the quartet played upbeat ’50-evoking pop for a packed house. Performing songs off its new five-song EP, Adios Amigo occasionally dipped towards mellow Belle & Sebastian sentimentality, at other points rocking more Shins-like. After the show, spit out into the Tenderloin, I made the short trip to the Edinburgh Castle for an excellent ska night, and ended up pushing through another crowd, stoked on the spinning sounds of two-tone. (Emily Savage)

***My Saturday night was enjoyed in a house in Alamo Square with a cluster of the friendliest jungle juice sippin’ folks. A friend of the host was leaving to Jerusalem, another was celebrating her birthday, and a roommate’s brother was anticipating his birthday a couple nights ahead. Space Ghost’s ethereal synthscape was spinning our boozy heads in to a luscious sub-bassed frenzy as friends reunited and babes made out in the corner. In many ways, it was a typical house party – enthusiastic dance moves by the most unexpected people, messy hugs, messier number exchanges, and tears over lost weed. What made this night really special though is that by sunrise there was a marriage proposal, homemade cake, and a dance-off to a remix of “This Is How We Do It.” (Soojin Chang)

***I was in the mood for some mind-bending psych-rock this weekend and found it in both Feral Ohms and Carlton Melton at El Rio. Unfortunately, I arrived just after stoner-metal openers Glitter Wizard finished, a cruel defeat as I’d been hoping to catch the whole lineup for this particularly epic evening. While I missed Glitter Wizard, nearly weeping into my Tecate, I did receive a surprise treat. The gods shined down on me when a friendly stranger offered up a vegan, cheeseless version (however did they know?) of the excellent frybread that pops up at El Rio nightly thanks to Rocky’s Frybread. (Emily Savage)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=drbGNEqZlbI

***Somehow I ended up Sunday night at the Stud listening to true-blue classic disco hits, with a barking dog in my lap and whiskey and Coke perspiring in hand. “Dance Doggy Dance A Fundraiser for Wonder Dog Rescue” was sadly, sparsely attended, there’s no question there, but the idea has potential. Wonder Dog volunteers brought the energy and disco digs, and a few attendees brought their small pups out to the SOMA bar. Maybe it will gain momentum, perhaps next time it’ll be a daytime event, or there will be more preview press. Hopefully, you’ll see this very blurb and start prepping your dog’s glittery bow tie in anticipation of the next doggy disco. (Emily Savage)

Live Shots: Dan Deacon at New Parish

Tony Robles
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0

You go to Dan Deacon in a bad mood – a no-good-reason sort of bad mood, where you’ve been sleeping a lot just to turn it off. (Works for a while, until the stress dreams start.) And even though you’d seen this guy a few times before, you have doubts about the show. Do you really enjoy the music, the high-pitched, manic indie electronics with screeching chipmunk vocals over it? Has he progressed enough as an artist to make a return worthwhile, or enough to brave the crush of an amped up, teenage and hyper crowd?

And once inside the New Parish, Deacon’s fan base seems even younger than last time. There are even old stone-faces seated in comfy chairs along the balcony, obvious school-night-in-Oakland chaperones for the giddy kids below. Peter O’Connell — one of the openers along with locals Chasms and Nero’s Day at Disneyland — plays off this crowd, asking and answering, “You know what I hate?” “Parents.”

A lovably buffoonish, intentionally bad comedian who comes to the stage pre-doused with sweat and proceeds to spill pocket change at every opportunity, O’Connell hails from Deacon’s Wham City performer collective, and shares the inept genius DIY-crap aesthetic. As with the late night oeuvre of Tim and Eric, there’s a silly, winking method to the mindlessness that appeals alternately to both the perma-stoned and a simple pre-pube/acid sense of cartoonish fun. 
 

To stand outside, it’s easy to dismiss much of what’s going on as gimmicky. (Or to look down from above, and think somebody needs to have that D.A.R.E. talk when they get home.) Deacon, a grizzly hipster geek king of a man, performs down in the crowd, an array of multicolored controllers and keys set up on a folding table. At one side is a precariously rigged tower of brilliant strobes capped by a neon green skull, lights that don’t seem to just accompany the music but race it to a more spastic tempo (a one-two punch that knocks every concrete thought out of your head.)

Sometimes these lights are all that can be made out, as the crowd, in full on mob mode crushes closer. “I can see this is going to be one of those shows,” Deacon says, narrowly avoiding being crushed between the stage and his equipment, another night of hurt legs and resorting to performing on the other side, equipment turned upside down, until security shows up to give him some space.  

There’s not much room around him, and nowhere for a jaded observer to stand. Deacon — more happy cult leader than the pious religious figure that his name and the location suggests — lays out the performance with interactive elements: contests and interpretive dance numbers led by audience members (a couple of costumed gnomes, tonight,) telepathic renditions of “Happy Birthday,” multiple requests to “take a knee for a sec.”

It’s basically peer pressure. Give in and before you know it you’ve crawled/danced through a human tunnel — stretching out the door, through the patio, back across the floor and upstairs to the balcony — and come out the other end, where you’re holding hands in the air with a red-headed woman you’ve never seen before as the two of you giggle like school children. An old, forgotten feeling, and refreshingly better than sleeping.

The Hangover: Nov. 3-5

Andrew Lam
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0

Jounce with us, if you will, through the Guardian staff’s frenzied weekend. Here’s our live reviews, hot raging, random sightings.

**I’m a firm believer in the idea that whenever Atlanta’s Mastodon comes to town, you must go. The last three times I saw the band, however, resulted in nearly identical experiences (with setlists culled largely from 2009 release Crack the Skye; the tour had a special visual component in the form of a trippy video synced to each song). Granted, Mastodon is one of the best live acts today, or in any era, I dare say — no fucking around, no stage banter, just solid rocking from opening notes to “Thank you, good night!” — but the same show three times did get a little tiresome. (That’s what you get for being obsessed.) Fortunately, the band’s set Thurs/3 at the Warfield was an outstanding mix of new songs (from brand-new disc The Hunter, an album stuffed with meaty rockers well-suited for live performance), plus songs from, yes, Skye, but also Remission, Blood Mountain, and personal favorite Leviathan (“Blood and Thunder” was the encore). Portland, Ore. openers Red Fang have their own cult following, very well-deserved. Come back soon and headline, Red Fang! (Cheryl Eddy)

**It’s not every day that you recieve a commendation from the State Senate for hosting a happy hour, but then you don’t work for an alt weekly that’s turning 45 years old all that often either. The Guardian’s 45th anniversary happy hour went off at the Buck Tavern last Thursday, to the tune of $1 Bud Lights (blame Executive Editor Tim Redmond’s atrocious taste in beverages), copious political cameos (including aforementioned appearance by State Senator Mark Leno and a big plaque), and tons of giveaway vibrators courtesy of Good Vibes. The end of the night was a little fuzzy, but I do recall a lot of female Baby Boomers stoked on their new sex toys and some delinquent reporters smoking weed in the beaded curtain room towards the back. Uncalled for. (Caitlin Donohue)

**I had to be pretty stoked on Das Racist to brave the armpit of San Francisco known as Ruby Skye – where the drinks are as overpriced as the staff is hostile – on Friday night. Despite the poor choice of venue, I had a pretty awesome time. In his signature skinny jeans, opener Danny Brown made groupies swoon with some debaucherous selections from his mixtape XXX. Das Racist’s set featured a ridiculous number of cameos, the best of  which was a swagger-drenched re-work of Dr. Dre’s “Xplosive” by Boots Riley of The Coup. A close second was scraggly-haired newcomer Lakutis, who dropped his absurdly catchy track, “Lakutis In The Haus,” and re-appeared for a verse on “Rapping 2 U.” Das Racist’s Himanshu Suri (a.k.a. Heems) strutted the stage playing air guitar and flashing rock star devil horns at the crowd. Though he did a stage dive early on, Victor Vazquez (a.k.a. Kool AD) seemed a little too relaxed. He messed with his phone and remained seated for the majority of the set. I don’t really blame him, though, as the sound issues at Ruby Skye were unrelenting. The sub-par sound accommodations didn’t stop fans from going bonkers over favorites like “Power” and “Michael Jackson.” Check out a full review with photos in Noise Blog later this week. (Frances Capell)

**We all know the story: Some dude records an album in a basement, garners considerable Internet attention, tries to perform live, and totally blows it. Fortunately for the audience at the Rickshaw Stop on Thursday night, Unknown Mortal Orchestra is a bold exception to this emerging parable in modern music. The hazy, cracked psych-pop tunes dreamed up by Unknown Mortal Orchestra’s progenitor Ruban Nielson blossomed and came to life with help from bandmates Jacob Portrait and Julien Ehrlich. See full review here. (Frances Capell) 

**There’s no real way of knowing how much crossover there was between the fans of Dresden Dolls singer-solo artist Amanda Palmer and fiction writer-poet Neil Gaiman before the two married last year. Now though? Well, it would have been amazingly helpful if the seating arrangement at the Palace of Fine Arts Friday night had been his and hers to properly delineate whose fans wear more Victorian-styled coats, Sherlock Holmes hats, video game references, tucked in long-sleeves t-shirts with jeans, early ’90s Jean-Claude Van Damme haircuts, and black. But since that didn’t happen, it was up to the audience to stake their own claims. “We’ve been Amanda fans for quite a while,” one man told the people sitting in front of him, arm draped over his companion. “We’ve been with her longer than he has.” (Ryan Prendiville)

**Despite the awesome spectacle (high kicks, guitar humping) and the resumes (Sleater-Kinney, Helium, the Minders) Wild Flag‘s music stands on its own. The indie rock foursome (don’t call it a supergroup) from Portland, Oreg. and Washington D.C. ripped the Great American Music Hall to shreds on Saturday night, likely Friday night too but I wasn’t there. Jumping on stage without a word and whipping through the first three songs of the set (all off the self-titled debut), the band set the bar high early; the energy between vocalist-guitarist Mary Timony and vocalist-guitarist Carrie Brownstein was instantly electric. The two snaked around one another, in classic sex-soaked rock god movements. Janet Weiss’ complex drumming remained a blissful flurry of pummeling hits. Organist Rebecca Cole added cool retro garage charm. This is a pack of insanely talented musicians, and the crowd fed off their every lick. It was a packed, attentive, ecstatic house.  See the full review here.  

**J-pop and the Ramones; a combination you might not hear anywhere else besides a Shonen Knife show. On Friday night, the Osaka-bred trio of pop punk rockers received audience cheers as we collectively spotted them through the window behind the stage at Bottom of the Hill, making their way down the stairs outside and into the venue. The band played crowd favorites off 2010’s Free Time, including first track “Perfect Freedom” and “Rock Society” off 2006’s Genki Shock. They covered “Redd Kross,” which is Yamano’s favorite band (not the Ramones?). They also highly recommended the burgers at Bottom of the Hill (which: really?) though Shannon Shaw, during the Shannon and the Clams set did mention that on their joint seven-day tour, she’d learned that Shonen Knife “really likes burgers, especially from Wendy’s.” (Emily Savage) 

**The skies opened up just like the forecast said on Saturday, just in time to soak 2011’s last few hours of Hard French at El Rio. The good news: no one was electrocuted (way to weather-protect your 45s, DJs Carnita and Brown Amy) and the party kept going straight on into Sly and the Family Stone’s 1968 hit “Everyday People”. And like, c’mon, as if anyone ever exited the dancefloor of the two-year-old queer soul party dry? (Caitlin Donohue)

The Hangover: Oct. 7-9

Andrew Lam
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Jounce with us, if you will, through the Guardian staff’s frenzied weekend. Here’s our live reviews, hot raging, random sightings.

***Blow Up is reputed to be the best party in the city. I’ll say it’s almost certainly the best regular event for the 18+ crowd. But rule number one of going to a 18+ club event: don’t wear your nice shoes, even if the code does say “dress to impress.” It was only thanks to sheer luck and repeat viewings of The Matrix that I managed to avoid a geyser of projectile vomit in The Factory’s overcrowded men’s room Saturday night at Blow Up Forever II. “You go here.” I said, guiding the poor kid to the urinal I was about to use. “I’ll wait for the stall.” Click here for full story. (Ryan Prendiville) 

***Stationary bikes snuggled into the corners of Public Works’ sweaty cavern of a first floor, but the realness of the Bikes and Beats party on Friday was onstage. The event was billed as J Boogie’s album release party and the DJ spent the night doing what he does best: orchestrating sick collaborations. At one point he had Jazz Mafia (including emcee Aima the Dreamer) and Duece Eclipse sharing the stage with him simultaneously. That’s a lot of local live luminaries to look at. (Caitlin Donohue)

***Overt-sweetness ran emboldened through Twin Sister’s set opening for Pains of Being Pure at Heart on Friday at Slim’s, leaving a trail of cotton candy kisses in its wake. Lead singer Andrea Estella, hugging herself tightly, laid out tender and girlish vocals over the band’s funked out disco’d-Cardigans tone. The Long Island band, spread across stage in a perfect line at the front, pulled through decorated versions of “Bad Street” and other tunes off its highly enjoyable, recently released album, In Heaven. The only misstep, in my mind, is the oddly nasally pop tune “Saturday Sunday.” It’s too cutesy, the call and response of weekend days is at times cloying. By contrast, Pains of Being Pure at Heart kept it moody, with songs like “Heart in Your Heartbreak” recalling the darkened club scenes from Nic Cage classic, Valley Girl, when the Plimsouls’ thrust into “A Million Miles Away.” Quick tip: Slim’s has a pretty decent hummus plate. (Emily Savage)

***Completely inappropriate for a blog feature called the Hangover, but nonetheless we must give props to the Life Is Living Festival on Saturday in West Oakland’s De Femery Park for being the Bay’s feel-good event of the year. Was it the way the breakdancing children spun blithely on their heads? Maybe the youth parkour obstacle course, spoken word stage, or arts and crafts tables? Probs an amalgamation of it all. Plus, Los Rakas and ?uestlove made for a slammin’ live block party soundtrack. Click here for full story. (Donohue)

***(See accompanying photo) Someone had to make a statement at this weekend’s West Coast Cannabis and Music Festival — the medical marijuana industry is in absolute turmoil after last week’s forboding ruling by the IRS about Harborside Health Center’s tax status. Speaker Senator John Vasconsellos spoke to a multitudinous crowd at one stage (perhaps the free joints that promoters promised to anyone willing to take a seat upped number a little), and outside in the sunshine Rock the Bike bravely endeavored to keep the music stage pedal-powered, despite a location off the festival’s beaten track and corresponding dearth of volunteers.  

***Emotions ran high for the second consecutive sold-out Girls show at the Great American Music Hall last night. Chris Owens, JR White, and their talented ensemble were perfectly in sync as they treated us to a lengthy set highlighted by a trio of charismatic female vocalists. A powerful solo from one of the ladies made for an especially moving rendition of “Vomit.” Girls played nearly every song from Father Son Holy Ghost as well as old favorites like “Heartbreaker,” “Hellhole Ratrace,” and “Lust For Life.” The high point for me was the tender encore of “Jamie Marie,” which began with just Owens and his guitar on the flower ornamented stage before the rest of the band stepped out to resounding applause. The rapport between band members was palpable and I couldn’t help feeling a little bummed to be witnessing the closing chapter of their national tour. (Frances Capell)

***”This is the only mayoral candidate that’s doing drag events!” The woman at the door was, of course, wrong — just last week Lil Miss Hot Mess coupled with Queers for John Avalos to through the high school-themed Homo Homecoming at the Verdi Club. But last night’s Bevan Dufty’s “Politics is a Drag” campaign fundraiser was staged by the mayoral race’s only gay candidate, which was good enough reason to attract a Florence and the Machine-themed number from La Monistat and a return to the Sarah Palin costume that Anna Conda donned for a Work More! event — a reprise of a number she choreographed with the help of Guardian Managing Editor Marke B. (Caitlin Donohue)

***The Stevie Nicks show at The Fillmore on Sunday night was like a time warp to an early 1980s high school. Although most of the women in the audience were in their 40s and 50s, they were competing for “Best Dressed” like girls more than half their age. They paid tribute to their Queen Stevie in dark velvet, shimmering shawls, and long skirts. If I didn’t know better, I would say they’d kept those clothes in their closets for 20 years just for this occasion. But shopping with my mom has taught me that they sell it all at Chico’s. Click here for full story. (Ann Edwards) 

The Hangover: Sept. 30-Oct. 2

Andrew Lam
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The Hangover: Sept. 30-Oct. 2

Jounce with us, if you will, through the Guardian staff’s frenzied weekend. Here’s our live reviews, hot raging, random sightings.

**The wonderfully energetic (and wonderfully tall) Robin Simmons puts on an occasional gig in the middle of Dolores Park called the Boombox Affair, hooking up a wall of old boomboxes as turntable speakers and letting disco-minded DJs go nuts with their all-vinyl obsessions. On Friday’s Odyssey party at Deco Lounge, he went indoors and at night hosting a three-hour set by DJ David Harness that reminded of those ancient “back in the day” days. Just 30-40 freaks, many of whom were previously unfamiliar to each other, jacking all night in the dark to some heavy tunes as the walls sweat and pounded. Hopefully the party will come back around soon. (Marke B.)

**I was not acquainted with the work of dOP before I attended Friday night’s Liaison Showcase at Public Works — the French techno trio has some excellent grooves and an absurdly over-the-top “sexy” aesthetic that would make their hits like “Horny” hilarious, if they weren’t actually very, very horny. Example: the chain-smoking boys are just fine wiggling around onstage half-naked, and the singer-rapper-screamer is one of the hottest little tattooed bear cubs I’ve ever seen. He spent most of the set playing with his nipples and shaking sweat from his shoulder hair. The crowd ate it up. (Marke B.)

**Saturday at the Warfield for Amon Tobin’s ISAM tour was like entering the 22nd century, except surrounded by young Pixar workers who couldn’t stop screaming, “Amaaazing!” everytime one of the realtime 3-D effects of the stage set was unveiled. Why? Because it really was amaaazing. Opener Eskmo did an entrancing job live-sampling cookware and plastic Coke bottles to build left-field grooves that weren’t afraid of floor-bending tempo changes. (Marke B.)

**With flickering string lights strung from the center of the grand ballroom and splayed out brass instruments across the stage, Beirut’s performance at the Fox Theater in Oakland on Saturday warmed like a fancy indoor county fair. The sound, which can be bass-problematic at the Fox, was good this evening, near perfect for the otherworldly folk-marching band from Santa Fe. Ringleader Zach Condon switched back and forth from ukulele to his beloved trumpet, singing in deep baritone throughout, once stepping to his newly rediscovered favorite, the keys. Here’s our interview with Condon from last week. (Emily Savage)

**What else is there to say about Saturday’s Hard French party besides the fact that Scott Weiner got to express his gratitude to us for his official Guardian ass towel? The queer patio shakefest at El Rio (theme: “Hardly Strictly French.” Overalls.) featured hand-wagging talents of many of the candidates for November’s city elections. Plus, Sups. Weiner and Jane Kim tagged along for the ride and they aren’t even running for anything. (Caitlin Donohue)

**The crowd at Odd Future’s show at the Warfield on Friday may have looked like Warped Tour cool kids, but you couldn’t fault them on their choice in music. The crew from Compton bug-eyed and jello-kneed through and generally crushed their set, although we were all out of their by 11 p.m. What Warfield, not into bands hurling their most enthusiastic devotees back into the crowds spine-first? Here’s the full review, btw. (Caitlin Donohue) 

**So we only made it to Sunday of Hardly Strictly Bluegrass, but damn if that afternoon’s Devotchka set and red wine from the bottle wasn’t a welcome entree to sunny banjo strumming. Even the crowd itself was hotter than ever (where did all these surfer-hippie hotties come from and to whence have they now returned?) — and in contrast to Outside Lands’ frenzied crowds, filtered through the fenceless areas calmly and happily. Yay free concerts! Happy birthday, Mr. Hellman. (Caitlin Donohue)

Butthole Surfers, 400 Blows keep it weird/bloody at Regency Ballroom

Tony Robles
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I had some pretty significant nightmares last night thanks to Butthole Surfers. Don’t get me wrong, the legendary avant-garde punk band, born in San Antonio, Tex. in 1981, was aces during its show at Regency Ballroom – just as weird and earsplitting as it ever was. The three enormous screens behind shaggy-haired lead vocalist-saxophonist-noise box manipulator Gibby Haynes and the rest of the band projected the images that stalked my dreams.

Slowed-down, reversed, and replayed horror flick scenes of gruesome bloody deaths, chopped up bodies, and viscous blood trickling down porcelain skin. But what else would one expect from hardcore’s longest-running freaks. Speaking of freaks, there’s a scene in the Flaming Lips documentary Fearless Freaks in which a chip-toothed Haynes claims Wayne Coyne stole his act. After seeing both live, and knowing their origins, I’m siding with Haynes. While there are obviously similiar elements (megaphones, blood, vintage footage, burning drums) The Flaming Lips’ stage show is like the top layer of Earth, all growing and green with frolicking animals and balloons filled with glitter. Butthole Surfers, however, occupy the dark and wormy space below the crust, with blood-soaked demons, creepy smiling dolls and eerie ’70s cheerleaders, pulsating shots of psychedelic color, and suped-up, high-speed vocal effects. It makes for a great live show.

But before Haynes and Co. set up shop, a far smaller crowd was gathered for openers 400 Blows, a longtime GSL act that mixes metal drop d guitar riffs with punk drum beats and hardcore talk-singing vocals. The L.A. band, currently on tour with the Butthole Surfers, has been around for more than a decade, and it shows. They seemed comfortable on stage, and with each other, despite the noticeably diminutive audience – it was only 8 p.m. Singer Skot Alexander kept trying, in vain, to incite the crowd, leaping on speakers and throwing a fist like Danzig, but for the most part the audience just stood there polite, yet cheerful – at one point someone thoughtfully offered Alexander a stack of napkins to wipe his brow. He likely could have cooled off if he had removed his signature black leather gloves, but that seemed unlikely.

There was a significant break between the bands, conceivably to wait for the space to fill up, which it eventually did. Then the projected footage began pumping, and the crowd of mostly 30-something men in black t-shirts and jeans began moshing. And yes, for those only aware of the band via its strangely radio-friendly 1996 hit, Butthole Surfers did play “Pepper” – though a noisier, quick and dirty version of it.

Two views:Joanna Newsom at the Fox, 8/2/10

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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By Amber Schadewald and Sam Stander

TAKE ONE “Have you seen her before?” a spirited woman asked a random couple in the front row at Oakland’s Fox theater Monday night, just before the lights began to dim. “She’s a fucking angel.” And it’s hard to disagree. California’s own folk-harp-composing-wonder Joanna Newsom is a beautiful, beautiful being who produced a perfectly impressive evening with song after long song of feather-light melodies. 

The show was lined with songs new and old, but consisted primarily of those from her February release, Have One On Me [Drag City, 2010]. Her fingers danced like tiny forest fairies across the towering collection of strings, creating surreal melodies that otherwise only exist in dream sequences and lands of happily ever after. Newsom’s whole face smiled as she played and I especially enjoyed watching her bright red lips as they took on various shapes; from large o’s that created airy open vowels to horizontal concoctions that produced Newsom’s classic, fluttering sounds. Her “new” voice, or what has developed after nodules were removed from her vocal chords last year, is gorgeous and full, yet hasn’t lost all the unique characteristics fans adore and non-fans despise. 

The evening’s mini-orchestra was comprised of local musicians, hailing from Oakland and Alameda. Together they delivered flute melodies, trombone solos, tender violins, banjo, electric guitar and all kinds of funky lil’ sounds to fulfill Newsom’s intricate compositions. Closing my eyes, I saw all kinds of stereotypical soothing images: dolphins clearing the surf, dew drops on roses, whiskers on kittens….well, to say the least, I left the Fox feeling so content, you could’ve wrapped me up with a bow.

Angel? I’d say Ms. Newsom is more of a real-life Cinderella, hypnotizing all the forest critters with her organic harp and piano sounds, calling them to her like a pied-piper, but instead of making them clean her room, she puts them all into a deep, satisfying slumber. Ahhhhh. (Schadewald)

TAKE TWO Remember when Joanna Newsom was this weird dark-horse harp wunderkind with a challenging (some would say grating, others might say revelatory) singing style? That was eight years ago, believe it or not, and by most accounts the 28-year-old singer songwriter has since outrun the shadow of her perceived fey persona to establish herself as a formidable force in modern popular music. Her prodigious skill (which opener Robin Pecknold compared, oddly, to Einstein) was on display Monday 8/2 at Oakland’s Fox Theater, where she took the stage with a five-piece backing band and played a set featuring material from all three of her LPs.

The band set-up is necessary to convey the complexity of her more recent compositions, including bangers like “Emily,” the epic opening track from 2006’s Ys [Drag City], originally arranged by Van Dyke Parks but reduced for this group by multi-instrumentalist Ryan Francesconi. Not so surprisingly, however, the most powerful sonic moments emanated from Newsom’s harp and voicebox. Sometimes, she reaches a kind of ecstatic energy where she is shout-singing some of her lyrics, hitting the odd notes that were more characteristic of her singing voice prior to her development of vocal cord nodules in 2009.

The other musicians provided texture throughout, but on certain numbers, the talented players especially stood out. Andrew Strain’s mournful trombone on “You and Me, Bess” complemented Newsom’s playing beautifully, while the Celtic-y fiddle from Mirabai Peart and Emily Packard added lushness to “Kingfisher.” Have One on Me highlight “Good Intentions Paving Company” was accompanied by “some Pecknolds and some Newsoms” who came out on stage and appeared to be tapping rhythm sticks or drum sticks together.

Newsom is a virtuoso harp player, but in keeping with the general diversification of her music on Ys and this year’s Have One on Me, she spent a lot of the show at the piano, switching off instruments roughly every other song. Her performance of “Inflammatory Writ,” which already features piano in its recorded form on The Milk-eyed Mender [Drag City, 2004], featured a country-inflected arrangement that may very well improve upon the classic album version. Other songs that benefited from live performance were Have One on Me opener “Easy,” on which the whole band just sounded smashingly good, and older track “Peach Plum Pear,” which closed the set before the encore. It’s a testament to Newsom’s development that her wailing intensity at the end of that song now far outstrips the force of the overdubbed choruses on the recording. Still one of her most strikingly beautiful compositions, both musically and lyrically, the track as performed Monday sounded like the closing song to a melancholy romantic film.

In contrast to the quasi-refined aesthetic of much of her music, Newsom brought Pecknold onstage for an encore of “Picture,” the boozy Kid Rock/Sheryl Crow (or Allison Moorer) duet. Perhaps those anticipating a collaboration on “On a Good Day,” a Newsom track that Pecknold covers, might have been disappointed, but the change in tone was both hilarious and well-executed. The auxiliary Pecknolds and Newsoms returned to the stage to snap in time and dance across the stage, before the close of the show was met with a second standing ovation.

Newsom’s novel-length songs might seem a tight fit for a riveting live show, but especially when juxtaposed with Pecknold’s lovely-sounding but formless songs in the opening act, the brilliant structure of her pieces kept the concert hurtling forward. If you’re the sort to dismiss Newsom’s harp-driven stylings as something quaint or merely trendy, seeing her live might persuade you otherwise, since this harpist is as exhilarating as any more conventional rocker or folkie you’ll encounter onstage anytime soon. (Stander)

 

Noise Pop 2010: Loquat at BOTH; Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros at Bimbo’s

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Loquat at Bottom of the Hill

The San Francisco band started their set with a request for more blue lighting at the Bottom of the Hill Friday Feb. 27, half-joking and half-hoping to make things look “cooler” and more “ocean-like.” Loquat has been playing their brand of electro-pop in the Bay Area for almost a decade and therefore I was expecting some really sweet synth action as a precursor to headlining band, Memory Tapes. Instead, racing guitars and strong bass muddled all of my most favorite parts of Loquat’s soun: the subtle waving melodies and vocalist Kylee Swenson’s floating lyrics. Their newfound heavier sound translated into a rock version of L.A.’s Bitter:Sweet, with tons of energy that twinkled over the crowd like the venue’s vintage Christmas lights.

Throughout the set, Swenson’s voice was crisp and beautiful as always, trading between songs from their 2008 release, Secrets of the Sea and older tracks revived from years passed. “Harder Hit” and “Sit Sideways” were definitely the highlights of the show, a promising couple of songs that never fail to sting and caress simultaneously with Swenson’s solid range and complimentary smooth guitars. The dainty piano plunks and slight echoes were exactly the details I had been longing to hear. And just before I closed my eyes, I noticed all four members of the band had already done so, concentrating and enjoying the moment just as much as the packed crowd. 

Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros at Bimbo’s 365

Ten people and double the number of instruments cluttered the stage as Los Angeles’ Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros began their set of folk-rock revival. The smell of sweet grass wafted over the sold-out crowd on Feb. 28, trumpet melodies, accordions, tambourines, and all the rest blaring triumphant anthems as the group of musicians jumped and danced around in circles. The room was overflowing with endorphins, everyone smiling and bouncing around like we had collectively discovered the fountain of youth.

I was filled with butterflies while watching vocalists Alex Ebert (a.k.a. the fictitious character Edward Sharpe) and Jade Castrinos interact, reminding me of the romantic fuzzies I felt when watching the fairytale love story between Titanic’s Jack and Rose. The winking, smiling and flirtatious affection was constant between the two and it really hit during “Home”, their whistle-laden love duet.

The vocal couple could have been the mom and pop of the Magnetic Zeros; a group that could have easily been one that stumbled out of a Portland farming co-op. Ebert’s scruffy beard, dangling red scarf and strangely patterned pants (which he said were a present from a friend that came “pre-dirted,” just the way he likes) fit right in with the rest of the group’s sweet vintage duds. Miss Castrinos looked like a charming child from the ’30s, her pixie cut paired perfectly with pinned-up oversized dress, complete with white bib.

The set list included lots of slow, ’60s style rock ballads, of which Ebert prefaced by shouting “It’s time to get serious”, the disco ball slowly casting reflections over what should have been a dance hall in a Western canyon. The show was equal parts sexy and like being with one huge Mormon family, with a sense of community, peace, and love sewn into every note.

My only complaint: not enough from Castrinos’ beautiful vocal cords. She is fantastic and it’s hard to believe such a rough, Joplin-esque voice bellows from that little body. She did sing one song on her own that was pure delight. “Isn’t it nice to be in San Francisco,” she asked Ebert, in her shy speaking voice. “It’s so magical here.” The set ended with Ebert asking a few people to come up on stage and sit down. Then he convinced the entire crowd to also take a seat— he suggested on one another’s laps so that no one would have to sit on the floor. An entire room of people together, hugging, humming and holding hands. I’ve never been to a show that quite mastered the feeling of togetherness that Edward Sharpe did. San Francisco is magical? I think they brought a little magic of their own…

Noise Pop 2010: Magnetic Fields at the Fox

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Spare but touching, playful yet perched oh-so-formally on chairs with music and notes on hand, accomplished and unafraid of the occasional sour or dissonant note. Yep, that’s the Magnetic Fields.

The ensemble had the sold-out mob in their precious paws on Feb. 27 at Fox Theater — from opener “Lindy-Lou,” off the 6th’s Hyacinths and Thistles to “Falling in Love with the Wolfboy” to a haunting version of “Acoustic Guitar.” “Yes,” yowled one fan when the group announced “I Don’t Want to Get Over You.” Even the group’s “B” set (the “A” set list will be performed at the March 1 Herbst show) was, as Claudia Gonson put it, teeming with “awesomeness.”

The combo could do no wrong — magnetism worked in its favor, though you got the impression that the band was still working out the kinks, still psychically at the start of their tour. They were a bit casual, a bit messy — Stephin Merritt sticking to ukulele and Gonson pointing up helpfully when she’d try and miss that exact right high note.
Overall it was lesser-known player Shirley Simms on autoharp and sweet, sweet vocals that particularly plucked at audience heartstrings. Meanwhile guitarist John Woo and cellist Sam Davol kept it the melodies in line admirably, and Lemony Snicket author Daniel Handler lurked in the deep background, on squeezing out small, subtle textures on the accordion.

And why pick any nits when the songs’ sheer wit were capable of withered all reservations away. Off-key instances, off-kilter jokes about child prostitution, and such wonderfully right-on songs — in the end, the pleasure was ours, warts and all.

Noise Pop 2010: Scout Niblett, Sonny and the Sunsets at Cafe du Nord

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More impressions of Noise Pop, comin’ right up.

Blame it on a lingering head cold but I was bummed that I had to skulk off before Citay took the stage on Feb. 25 at Cafe du Nord. I got there just in time for Niblett, however: the Portland, Ore., performer was a solo powerhouse, conjuring estrogen-fueled might with a plaintive wail and some blissfully crunchy riffs for a packed house. At the risk of waxing rockist, I only wished it were even louder and harder.

The next day Sonny and the Sunsets hit the sweet spot at Cafe du Nord with some great garage rock. Why aren’t we all listening to “Death Cream” and “Stranded” on some fantastic, nonexistent radio station? And how much more fun can this Sonny Smith project — part Kelley Stoltz band, part Citay, part Fresh and Onlys — get? Smith’s songs hark to some of my favorite veins of ‘50s sentimental pop and ‘70s dirty rock, and with this lineup the stars appear to be aligned. Need more proof? The back of the room was riddled with girls dancing among themselves, swaying to the music.

The Growlers — sprawling and shaggy, with plentiful volume — had the misfortune of following S&S, but don’t feel to sorry for them. A good portion of the crowd — supporters and family, no doubt? — bellied up to the front to document the proceedings.

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