Music Blogger

Clubs: ‘Dons of Deeper Dubstep’ Quest and Silkie land in the Bay

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By Tomas Palermo

North London producers Quest and Silkie are being billed as the “Dons of Deeper Dubstep” for their appearance Thursday, May 22, at 1015 Folsom. The tag is a notice to hardcore Bay Area dubstep supporters: don’t expect grumbling, wobbly sub-bass music all night.

Instead, these cats will drop melodic, techy, and all-around intricate tunes that represent dubstep’s sonic diversity. Just as producer LTJ Bukem and his Good Looking label crew found success via blessed-out drum ‘n’ bass, Quest and Silkie also explore lush and languid grooves.

That’s not to say the dancefloor will be sedate – as sets on UK pirate station React FM prove, the duo knows how to kick solid beats for dancers and dreamers alike. Representing the Anti Social Entertainment DJ crew, who spin all over the UK and Europe, Quest and Silkie have a released a handful of languid, reggae-inspired releases, including the Deep Medi label’s “Deep Inside”/”The Seafront” single, a standard among discerning dubstep DJs. Working a musical vein similar to Tempa Records producer D1’s blissful garage sounds, Quest and Silkie bring a sexy edge to UK bass music. Expect DJ support from Djunya (Narco.Hz /Mode), Kozee (BrapDem/RedLine), and Emcee Child (Grime City /SureFire).

QUEST AND SILKIE
Thurs/22, 10 p.m.-2 a.m., $5-$10
1015 Folsom
1015 Folsom, SF
(415) 431-1200
Go to www.going.com/antisocial for more details.

UK’s Foals step up their game

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FOALS
Antidotes
(Sub Pop)

By Marke B.

Oxford art school dropouts all, this lovable Brit quintet of post-punk math rockers aspires, perhaps a bit disappointingly, to revive Steve Reich-like minimalist grooves on the dance floor while spicing up the mirror ball Borg a la Battles (insect guitars, claustrophobic shouts, high hat onslaughts, post-techno vibe).

We’ve heard all this before. But on their four-star debut, with shimmering production by TV on the Radio’s David Sitek and afrobeat band Antibalas’ horn section, Foals escape the twilight of dance rock and end up left of the Cure in a boppy zone of their own. Sprightly vocalist Yannis Philippakis tends to bark militaristically over the band’s rapid machinations (toe-tappers “Cassius” and “Electric Bloom” and first single “Balloons”). But when he drops the Rapture act and hoarsely croons his twisted metaphors – as in the heart-rending “Olympic Airways,” in which he’s “building an aviary for today” over shattered fiddles – or when the group’s disparate intentions fall grandly into place (“Two Steps Twice,” sly, penultimate track “Tron”), Foals outpace their sum of parts.

FOALS
Thurs/22, 10 p.m., $5-$8
popscene
330 Ritch
(415) 541-9574

Flying Luttenbachers sax on auction block

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Care to grab a slice of experimental rock/no-wave history? Flying Luttenbachers impressario, XBXRX player, and no wave authority Weasel Walter is putting his Conn C-Melody saxophone up on the eBay action block here. The Bay Area musician and fire-starter says he played the instrument on such recordings as the Flying Luttenbachers’ Revenge and Gods of Chaos as well as To Live and Shave in L.A. 2’s The 300 Dollar Silk Shirt.

Says WW: “I got this horn in 1988 and played it (terribly) on a lot of my high school 4-track recordings (the best of those were released on CD by Savage Land Records in 2006). After I moved to Chicago I got the beast fixed up and repadded and played it a lot more. This is a working instrument, and you can basically take it out of the box and play it. Basically bills must be paid and I really don’t pursue playing saxophone at all anymore – let’s leave it to the pros! – so I’m selling it off.

“To some elite weirdos i suppose it’s a small piece of history. Let the bidding begin.”

(You can also catch Weasel Walter at events for the book **No Wave,** alongside author Marc Masters. Those happen Sat/24, 2 p.m., free. Amoeba Music, 1855 Haight, SF. With Death Sentence: Panda and Ettrick. Sat/24, 9 p.m., pay what you can. 21 Grand, 416 25th St., Oakl. Sun/25, 5 p.m., $6. Artists’ Television Access, 992 Valencia, SF.)

Gangway! B.A.D. Girls Roller Derby returns

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Oakland Outlaws vs. San Francisco ShEvil Dead at the last match in Oakland in April. Photo by Boss Hogg.

You’ve been warned. Women’s roller derby is back, big time, Saturday, May 17 when B.A.D. Girls, the Bay’s only all-female flat-track league, present SF’s ShEvil Dead battling Richmond’s Wrecking Belles at Dry Ice in Oakland.

Promoters say, “The face-off is a rematch of the teams that fought it out last December for the Bay Area Derby Girls (B.A.D.) 2007 championship. In that bout, Richmond clinched the league title in front of hundreds of frenzied fans. But both ShEvil and the Belles lost their last bouts and are eager to draw fresh blood and recuperate the thrill of victory.

“San Francisco and Richmond have not met for a public bout at their home venue, Dry Ice, in more than a year. The Oakland location is neutral territory where more than 600 fans from the opposing cities can sit on the periphery of the track, or snag a couch on one of two vista platforms, for an eye-of-God view of the action.

Love those Girls at Rickshaw Stop

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Girls make us dance – whether we want to or not. Photo by Jen Synder.

By Jen Snyder

I know that there’s a big battle going on about whether or not the Internet is evil – and whether or not technology is making people super-mean. But you’ve got to admit that while some things may be getting a more impersonal, others are getting a lot cooler. Like bands.

Has anyone noticed that there are a million groups out there that are actually really good? That is so weird. Remember when you used to go to the Warehouse with your dad and every other CD was completely horrible? Now I walk around a music store so bewildered by all the pretty album covers that I get an intimidation contact high and end up leaving with my 19th Leonard Cohen album. Geez. I blame the Internet and its infallible ability to get awesome stuff to anyone, even if you don’t live in a cultural hub like San Francisco.

So the next time you’re stumbling around Amoeba, wondering which disc has the sweet song your coworker played for you, just go to the G section and go pick out anything by Girls. Actually, they don’t have an official album out, but I do know that they have some great songs on their MySpace page, including a particular favorite of mine, “Hellhole Ratrace.” Their songs evoke the pleasantly masochistic feelings you get from listening to something like Nirvana Unplugged. And in an era where one can describe the ’80s and even the ’90s as vintage, Girls has this “yesterday” feel to them that makes you yearn for those years when you were sadder and more creative.

Joey Ramone Day birth bash deets

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Good to know Joey Ramone Day marches on – just as it was fun to hear, at last night’s Eric Lyle reading/event at CounterPULSE for his new book, On the Lower Frequencies: A Secret History of the City, the Guardian contributor talk about his own personal observance of Joey Ramone Day – playing Ramones songs on a boombox through the streets, meditating on the frontman.

Well, it happens on every coast. This just in – the details for this year’s Joey Ramone Birthday Bash on May 19 in NYC:

“Celebrating what would have been the 57th birthday of punk-icon Joey Ramone, the annual Joey Ramone Birthday Bash will take place Monday, May 19, at the Fillmore New York at Irving Plaza. Mickey Leigh, event organizer and brother of Joey Ramone, has announced that, as part of the eighth annual Bash, fans will be treated to a special reunion appearance from Manitoba’s Wild Kingdom featuring Handsome Dick Manitoba, Andy Shernoff, Ross the Boss, and JP Thunderbolt.

Sub Pop pops the cork on two decades with NW fest

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‘Member when you first heard Nirvana’s Bleach (1989)? ‘Member when you first spun 1986’s Sub Pop 100? Yeah, it was the ’80s, and college-alternative-indie-whatever-rock was a piping hot, tumescent, rich vein, ready to bedazzle. Still, the lil’ label from the Northwest, Sub Pop, stood out from the slew of worthies with its prescient picks from a roused, riled, and increasingly loud underground, a wise-acre attitude, and a forward-facing outlook on the state of the rock.

So gather round as the Seattle imprint celebrates its 20th anniversary – yeesh, it’s been that long – with a fine comp, Happy Birthday to Me: Terminal Sales Vol. 3 (including tunes by Mudhoney, Foals, Wolf Parade, No Age, Kelley Stoltz, Flight of the Conchords, and the Helio Sequence); a series of reissues begining with Mudhoney’s Superfuzz Bigmuff: Deluxe Edition (coming May 20); a limited relaunch of the lauded Sub Pop Singles Club; a July 11 comedy show with Eugene Mirman and Patton Oswalt; and a benefit fest, which runs July 12-13 at Marymoor Park outside Seattle in Redmond, Wash.

The Bay will be represented by Comets on Fire on a bill that includes Flight of the Conchords, Foals, Iron and Wine, Low, Pissed Jeans, Wolf Parade, and Ruby Suns. And those who remember the ’80s (and early ’90s) will be psyched to hear that such reunited grunge-meisters and rock hurlers as the Fluid, Green River, Beachwood Sparks, and Red Red Meat will also put in a few appearances. Yes, there will be a half-pipe.

For a $35 single-day or $60 two-day pass to the fest or a $20 ticket to the comedy calvacade, call (206) 628-0888 or go to the Ticketmaster site.

Rock the Casbah: ‘Abdel Hadi Halo and the El Gusto Orchestra of Algiers’ revives North Africa’s chaabi

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ABDEL HADI HALO AND THE EL GUSTO ORCHESTRA OF ALGIERS
Abdel Hadi Halo and the El Gusto Orchestra of Algiers
(Honest Jon’s)

By Erik Morse

The style and history of chaabi may be recognizable to few if any Westerners. But the examples performed on Abdel Hadi Halo and the El Gusto Orchestra of Algiers represent a unique and fascinating exchange between French, Spanish, and Algerian musical identity as well as the miscegenation of Jewish, Berber, and Arabic street culture in the heart of North Africa.

Translated from Arabic as “popular,” chaabi – originating in the Casbah as part of a Moorish/Andalusian tradition that stretched back to the 15th century – reached its height during the 1950s. Primarily performed in bars and clubs where many French expats, American GIs, Sephardic Jews, and Algerian Muslims congregated and swapped native instruments and scales, the cosmopolitan interplay of chaabi marked a complex colonial parity comparable to American Delta blues. With Algeria’s independence from France in 1962, over 100,000 pied-noirs (mostly Jews and European colonials) fled north from their homes fearing reprisal from the Muslim sanctioned government. And with them went much of the cross-cultural popularity of chaabi.

Although it lost much of its mystique among younger musicians, the forefathers of chaabi played on. Some, like El Hajj Muhammad El Anka, referred to as the “father of chaabi,” continued to teach and spread the genre’s musical heritage throughout Algeria until his death in 1978.

To life! Iceland’s Borko whoops it up with his latest

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BORKO
Celebrating Life
(Morr Music)

By Erik Morse

Bjorn Kristiansson, a.k.a., Borko, is not only a chronic day-dreamer but a procrastinator as well. A music teacher and film composer living in Reykjavik, Borko has finally assembled an album, Celebrating Life, to follow his 2001 debut EP, Trees and Limbo (Resonant). The result – a collection of varying electronic and folktronic experiments that reaches back to 2002 – is a pleasing if dilettantish grab bag of bright charmers and absurd homages to the tundra. Kristiansson’s inspirations suggest an ambitious musical mind that seeks grand scope rather than minute detail.

The album’s opener, the appropriately titled “Continental Love,” is a wonderful introduction to Kristiansson’s musical topology, using synthesized horns and sampled vocal beats to simulate the expansive void of the Great North – a space more than a place – and, left largely to the romantic imagination, the perfect wintry allegory for longing. The next track, “Spoonstabber,” abandons these mammoth instrumentals for the doe-eyed vocals and electro-acoustic soundscapes of Amnesiac-era Radiohead, revealing Borko’s m.o. to be one less of tonal focus than generic catch and release. Lest we forget, this is pop and not process music.

Despite the childish titles, “Shoo Ba Ba,” “Sushi Stakeout,” and “Ding Dong Kingdom” dovetail into melodrama, using heavily processed keyboards, plangent electric guitars, and hypnotic coos and chimes – not unlike fellow Icelanders múm or Air in its lush soundtracking for The Virgin Suicides. Throughout, the playful melancholia of Borko evokes the cinematic regionalism of Guy Maddin or Dagur Kári, whose works similarly equate romance not with equatorial heat but with arctic hibernation. And Celebrating Life is filled with the kind of hit-and-miss magic that comes when an imagination overburdened with the possibilities of music seeks to create not only a new genre but a whole new continent of sound.

Bienvenidos to the jungle: munchies Italiano in Costa Rica

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A little bit of Italy down south: La Puerta Negra. Photo courtesy of Zancudo Times.

By Erik Morse

A-way down south past Baja, Calif., and the Rio Grande, through Mexico and the mountain ranges of Central America, which blossom into the fiery petals of Arenal volcano, there’s a tiny fishing village near the border of Costa Rica and Panama called Playa Zancudo. Along the town’s one gravel road that travels through the swamps and palm trees to the edge of the Osa Peninsula, passing shotgun shacks and mercados, sits one of the most delicious Italian restaurants this side of the Adriatic.

Christened La Puerta Negra according to the plywood sign near the dirt path entrance, this small trattoria is a simple concrete slab and garden just off the beach. But the chef and owner Alberto Ferrini has taken great care to make it his own: a colorful assortment of fresh flowers, white tablecloths, and twinkling lights sit beneath a quilted patio covering.

Photographs of forgotten guitar heroes from the American delta are pinned above the entrance to the open-air kitchen, and the constant rotation of jug bands and blues troubadours playing from the stereo portray an ardent musical soul. A small advertisement written in marker reads: Live Blues on Saturday Night. Later on I find out that Ferrini often brings his git box from the room above the restaurant to give his customers a lesson in old-fashioned gut bucket.

Church lets out with Marty Willson-Piper

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By Todd Lavoie

Marty Willson-Piper, “Questions Without Answers” (1989)

What a treat! Singer/songwriter/founding member of Aussie atmosphere-masters The Church, Marty Willson-Piper, is doing a special solo-spotlight show— backed by the alluringly-named Mood Maidens— at the Great American Music Hall on Sunday, May 4th. As far as I remember, the last time he played here in the city was back in the summer of ’06, with The Church, at the same venue. Ah, what a show that was— ever-genteel bandmate Steve Kilbey joked about spearheading an “Elizabethan Rock” movement, and Willson-Piper obliged by bringing delicate, graceful guitar-dexterity to Church slow-burners and ambience-anthems such as “Under The Milky Way”, “Chromium”, and “Metropolis”. No word yet about whether Elizabethan Rock is still on the front burner for the band, but the charming, quick-quipping guitarist/big-hit-with-the-ladies does have a new album out— entitled Nightjar (Heyday Records), it’s a gorgeous collection of warm-textured folk-rock pushed along by some of the most delicious six string jangles since, well, the last Church album, really.

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Is an introduction to The Church necessary? Probably not, so how about a reminder, then: ever since releasing their debut Of Skins and Heart (Arista/EMI) back in 1981, the band has released well over a dozen albums and EP’s matching (frequently) melancholy neo-psychedelic atmospherics with mystical subject matter, and Willson-Piper has, along with lead singer Kilbey, been a constant in their two-decades-deep career. Much of their success should be attributed to his ability to float just the right color of aura to their formidable mood-making; it’s tough to imagine the smoldering majesty of Church classics like 1985’s “Myrrh”, 1988’s “Antenna”, or 2003’s “Sealine” without Marty’s sublime textures. Then, of course, there’s the perennial crowd-fave of “Spark”— the taut, sneering Mod stomper from 1988’s Starfish (Arista) gave the band’s usual backing-vocalist a truly inspired turn at the lead mic. Two particularly fascinating recent-additions to the band’s catalogue— 2004’s El Momento Descuidado and 2007’s El Momento Siguiente (both Liberation Music)— both offer exquisite “unplugged” revisits to career-highlights, and here, free of feedback and pedal effects, one can gain a whole new appreciation for his intricate guitar-work. Perhaps they also had an effect on the recording of Nightjar, as this new solo jaunt seems to share a kinship with the lush folk ambience of both albums. Granted, the disc does indeed have its electric moments— it even occasionally rocks out in that slow purposeful grind associated with latter-day Church recordings— but it’s easy to imagine Nightjar as a younger, rougher-around-the-edges sibling to the Momento twins.

Working it out with Les Savy Fav’s Tim Harrington

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By Duncan Scott Davidson

For the rest of this interview, go here.

When I call Tim Harrington, he’s in a work meeting at VH1. I agree to call back in 45 minutes. When I call back in an hour, at 7 p.m. New York time, he’s still in the meeting: “Let me just say one thing…” he says to his coworkers, and throws in a final idea before he returns to the phone call.

SFBG: Do you want me to call another day or something? It’s cool.

Tim Harrington: I Don’t want to waste your time calling twice. Let’s do it right now. I just officially declared my day professionally over.

SFBG: What was that high tension meeting about?

TH: I work at VH1.

Anti-folks get together for Kimya Dawson

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As you’d expect from her brainy, rambling songs, Kimya Dawson is a pleasure to chat with. Here’s more from a brief chat; she performs tonight at Herbst Theatre with her friend Matt Toby on ukulele.

SFBG: So your life must have really changed after the Juno soundtrack?

Kimya Dawson: I love the movie and I love everybody that worked on the movie. I know that for a lot of the other people who worked on it that I liked and for my family it’s super-exciting and that makes me happy. It’s just one of those things, where this was never the goal for me. I never made music thinking someday I’m going to make it big.

Interchangeable Hearts’ ‘Lost’ happily found

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THE INTERCHANGEABLE HEARTS
Lost
(Zeitgeist)

By Todd Lavoie

Losing oneself isn’t necessarily something to shy away from; in the case of the debut EP from San Francisco trio Interchangeable Hearts, such an outcome should probably be welcomed. Fronted by the coolly unhurried vocals of Lina Hancock, the three-piece arrives well-versed in matching stark atmospherics with melancholic ruminations on matters of love, at times recalling Midnight Movies at their most minimal or Sub Pop-era Saint Etienne at their most somber.

“Now That I’m Gone” is a captivating opening statement, starting off with a ghostly slink of haunted-house organ and sumptuously detached vocals before spinning itself into hi-hat- and bubble-bass-driven disco release, with Hancock achieving a curious blend of resignation and euphoria in her dancefloor declaration, “All the stars in the sky and the light in my eyes/it makes me fall apart.” Fluid bass lines and weightless organ whirrs also largely inform the engrossingly floatable handclap-funk of “March,” and the elegant balladry of “Be Mine” glides along with a tearful melody and stately piano worthy of Burt Bacharach – think Ivy without the French-accented vocals.

“Maze” offers the Interchangeable Hearts at their most spooked-out, thanks to the billowing puffs of organ which keep the song hovering somewhere in the ether. Top marks, however, go to “On My Knees,” a coy tempo-shifter buoyed by Hancock’s taunting chorus of “look me in the eyes and make me remember you.”

Indian Jewelry babbles ‘n’ baubles

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Indian Jewelry – fun people toting Free Gold. I talked to member Tex Kerschen about all manner of things the other week; the Houston, Texas, ensemble makes some noise tonight at the Hemlock Tavern.

SFBG: What are you up to right now?

Tex Kerschen: Free gold. Putting everything on the line. I’m just kididing – I’m being glib. Yeah, I guess in terms of what we’re literally about to do – we’re literally driving from the country to the city, moving things. We spent the past year in Houston, in a house, and when we’re really busy we hole up in the country.

SFBG: Got a lot of jewels to move?

TK: Bracelets and necklaces and baubles – a couple year’s worth of stuff. Got bits and pieces of musical gear that I neglected to pick up before. We just have a diehard postivitist attitude.

Fecal Face Dot Gallery goes solo with Kottie Paloma

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Tonight seems to be the time to check out that storefront marked Fecal Face Dot Gallery – you know, right where Go-Ugh tears into Market, near the delish Brazilian meats playzone, Espetus Churrascaria. Tonight, “Kottie Paloma and the Daily Strangers,” the space’s first solo show, opens from 6 to 9 p.m. The Guardian rhapsodized former Low Gallery honcho and Fecal Face impessario John Trippe way back when (and we dug the art-opening photos he’d contribute to the paper), so get out and support his latest project. He e-mails:

“Featuring over 250 5-by-7-foot graphite portraits that San Francisco artist Kottie Paloma produced over the last 2 years (each titled A Daily Stranger), the work forms a survey of the strangers in Kottie’s life.

“The Daily Strangers series is based on the idea of seeing the same person on a daily basis without ever getting to know that person. They are just a face in one’s life. An interesting individual kept at a safe distance. To get to know these particular strangers could possibly ruin whatever fantasy one has made up in their head about these people.

Chow Nasty announces a ‘Super’ party-starter

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By Dina Maccabee

The rumors are true: a band member has confirmed that if you buy Chow Nasty‘s new album Super (Electrical) Recordings (Omega/Redeye) at an independent record store, you can get into their show at the Uptown in Oakland on April 25 for free, if you bring a receipt. Granted, that might be an easy sell to folks who already dig the Bay Area band’s guerilla party tactics but just haven’t gotten around to picking up their own personal copy of Super (Electrical) Recordings. Isn’t it more likely, though, that you’d be lured into buying a CD after taking in a kick-ass set and enough beer to soften the impact of forking over 15 bucks?

No matter, the thing to celebrate here isn’t free admission to the Uptown – it’s that these guys managed to translate even a fraction of the lunacy of their live show to a recording. Chow Nasty is the party-est band I’ve ever seen, crafting a militantly bizarre beat-fest out of stage rituals paying homage to James Brown and the Beastie Boys.

On tape, the combination of inanely indelicate rhymes (like MC Pep Love’s contribution, “I’m a give it to you / it’s a party in your mouth / and I’m coming through,” a slightly zany approach to hip-hop conventions, and a kind of studied boneheadedness result amid a fantastic funk frenzy reminiscent of Beck’s Prince-loving album Midnight Vultures (DGC, 1999). For this tour the drum-machine-vocals-bass trio includes a sidekick on trombone and guiro who reportedly refuses to perform in anything but a sleeveless velour track suit. Hell, yes – or should I say, “Ungawa!”


CHOW NASTY
With Trackademics, HotTub, and DJ Eddie Bauer
Fri/25, 9 p.m., $8
The Uptown
1928 Telegraph, Oakland
(510) 451-8100

The Ohsees, Traditional Fools ride the radio dial in my time machine

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No foolin’: Traditional Fools at the Eagle. All photos by Jen Snyder.

By Jen Snyder

Remember when you were never held accountable for anything – save for your room being clean? Man, I do.

I’ve got to say, the Oh Sees, Traditional Fools, and Master Slash Slave show at the Eagle Tavern this past Thursday, April 17, dredged up feelings of nostalgia for me. I don’t know if it’s the comfy charm of the most relaxed gay bar ever, or if because past Bay Area indie gods dotted the crowd, as members of Coachwhips and Erase Errata buzzed around, but there was a carefree feeling about the show. If you like reminiscing about your childhood, I can only suggest listening to at least one of these local bands the next time you find yourself hunting for tunes.

Remember how much of a bummer it was when you had to go to school for eight hours every day, starting at 8 a.m.? That was insane – especially if you went to an extremely ill-equipped public high school with no money to upgrade computers straight out of the Oregon Trail days. The Traditional Fools reminds me of the days you feigned sickness, stayed home, and watched Wayne’s World three times in a row.

Sonic Reducer Overage: Her Space Holiday, KUSF, Raconteurs, Pre, Basia Bulat, Night Marchers, Man Man, and so much more

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Man Man, oh, man.

Man, there’s too much to do – you can blame it on Coachella for luring so many interesting acts westward.

MAN MAN
Beards, stuffed animals, and the sound of Philadelphia – this is what Man Man shows are made of. Man Man’s new album, Rabbit Habits (Anti-), has also been touched by facial hair. Count on much instrument passing, a palpable sense of humor, and fever dreams revolving round cheesetofu sandwiches. With Yeasayer. Wed/23, 9 p.m., $16. Great American Music Hall, 859 O’Farrell, SF. (415) 885-0750.

RACONTEURS
A pretty fun rockin’ time was had by all at the supergroup’s last show at the Warfield. Consolers of the Lonely sound like the combo are up to their mad, sad old tricks. With Birds of Avalon. Wed/23, 8 p.m., sold out. Bimbo’s 365 Club, 1025 Columbus, SF. (415) 474-0365.

HER SPACE HOLIDAY
San Mateo rising! Suburban savant Marc Bianchi is back from holiday with a new album to come on Mush Records – and his first children’s book, The Telescope, which was released in Japan. With Lymbyc System and Head Like a Kite. Thurs/24, 9 p.m., $12. Bottom of the Hill, 1233 17th St., SF. (415) 621-4455.

More green reasons, post-Earth Day

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Michael Kang of the String Cheese Incident is in at the Digital Be-In.

The sun may have set on Earth Day, but that doesn’t mean the musically oriented eco-celebrations can’t continue. Here are a few more events:

DIGITAL BE-IN 16: ECOCITY
An Ecocity theme and speakers, exhbiits, installations, an eco-fashion show – and live music by Michael Kang (String Cheese Incident), Waterjuice (Vaporvent), Lumin with Irina Mikhailova, Yossi Fine (Ex-centric Sound System), Diana Rosa, and MC Yogi, and DJs Rhythmystic (Rhythm Society), Alex Theory (Mystic Vibration), Irina Mikhailova (Cyberset), Neptune (Beat Church), Dov (Cyberset, Muti Music), Goz (Cyberset), Omer (Harbin), Timonkey (Muti Music), and David Shamanik (Rhythm Society). Fri/25, 7 p.m.- 4 a.m., $20-$25. Temple, 540 Howard, SF. (415) 750-0971.

CARNAVAL SAN FRANCISCO’S ECO-GREEN FESTIVAL
Zona Verde is the theme of this green fete – which organizers are claiming as the largest outdoor green event in the city. Tribal DJs will be force along with sacred healing ceremonies, art installations, and natural home and alternative energy vendors. May 24-25. time to be announced. Harrison and Treat at 17th St., SF.

HARMONY FESTIVAL
Alongside eco-awareness booths and holistic health product peddlers are performances by Angelique Kidjo, Paula Cole, Mickey Hart Band with Steve Kimock and George Porter, George Clinton and Parliament-Funkadelic, Arrested Development, Jackie Greene, Charlie Musselwhite, Mike Stern Band with Victor Wooten and Friends, the Devil Makes Three, and the Amazing Techno-Tribal Community Dance. June 6, 2-10 p.m.; June 7, 10 a.m.-10 p.m.; June 8, 10 a.m.-9 p.m. with after-hours shows from 10 p.m.-2 a.m.; $25-$139. Sonoma County Fairgrounds, 1350 Bennett Valley Road, Santa Rosa.

Crummy ‘Punk Goes Crunk’?

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By Alex Felsinger

For the latest installment of Fearless Records’ noble quest to release the worst-themed cover-song compilations ever, they’ve truly one-upped themselves with the horrendously misnamed Punk Goes Crunk. It should have been called Popular Rock Goes Mainstream Rap, but, of course, that doesn’t have a nice ring to it. While the definition of punk has become so egregiously convoluted that some may claim that New Found Glory and Hot Rod Circuit are actually punk, no one can dispute that Will Smith’s Men in Black theme song is not crunk by any means. Nor is 2pac, Notorious B.I.G., the Roots, Snoop Dogg, or any of the other artists unfortunate enough to have their hits covered on this disc.

At first, the idea is kind of funny – I mean, it does rhyme. Beyond that, however, it’s bad. The first track, which happens to be the only actual cover of a crunk song, highlights the Bay Area’s own Set Your Goals covering Lil Jon‘s “Put Yo Hood Up.” Like most songs on the compilation, the band doesn’t try to give the song any kind of punk or pop-punk makeover, but rather takes the opportunity to try their own hand at rapping. With the help of a redundant chorus sung by what sounds like Yoda, the tune sets the overall tone for the collection.

The comp has a few somewhat interesting tracks, including Say Anything’s rendition of Ol’ Dirty Bastard’s “Got Yo Money,” which is good for a couple laughs. But it’s clear by the end that humanity has already endured enough experimentation between rock and rap (i.e., ahem, Limp Bizkit) and at some point, the genres need to go back to their respective corners. Frankly, I thought they already had. Some of these tracks were originally intended for release on Immortal Records‘ Yo! Indie Rock Raps compilation, but they canned the concept. Fearless should have taken note.

Perhaps recognizing that no one would ever put their own money towards purchasing Punk Goes Crunk, the label has put the entire release up online to hear for free. Lucky you.

WARPED TOUR
With most groups featured on Punk Goes Crunk
June 21, 11 a.m., $33
Pier 30/32, SF
(415) 421-TIXS

Skyphone’s ‘Avellaneda’ soars

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skyphonecd.jpg

SKYPHONE
Avellaneda
(Rune Grammofon)

By Erik Morse

The Danish trio of Thomas Holst, Keld Dam Schmidt, and Mads Bodker has deepened the exotic secrets first whispered in its 2004 debut, Fabula (Rune Grammofon), with a new quiet masterpiece, Avellaneda.

Possibly a titular reference to the small port city in Argentina or the aristocratic family for which the town is named, Skyphone’s Avellaneda seems to recall nothing less than the cryptic landscapes and genealogies of Jorge-Luis Borges. In name alone, tracks like “Schweizerhalle,” “Quetzal Cubicle,” and “Yetispor” present odd, polyglot taxonomies of old Europe and the New World. While the grab bag of gizmos in Avellaneda – glockenspiels, toy pianos, analog synths – and field sounds are all found in the band’s debut, the manner in which they are layered together vertically in the former rather than stitched laterally in the latter liberates the space of each track, allowing the sounds to tarry and erect their own internal rhythms.

This is a great leap forward in Holst and co.’s working method. As a Scandinavian relative to artists like Alog, Phonophani, and Kim Hiorthøy, Skyphone’s achievements in lush, ambient soundtracking are not without referents, but in demurring to the post-dance emulsions of glitchy beats or po-mo production, Avellaneda puts the group in a sonic universe somewhere between Debussy and Eno. In fact, the conjurations of moody bliss and non-Western rhythms make the album a sequel of sorts to Eno’s 1975 classic Another Green World (EG). Deserving of all of the hype, Skyphone confirms why Scandinavia is still at the forefront of avant-garde electro-acoustic music.

Green, according to Brett Dennen

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Singer-songwriter Brett Dennen has been getting a bunch of attention of late – appearing on Jay Leno among other late-night staples. He appears at the free Green Apple Festival show in Golden Gate Park on Sunday, April 20. Word had it he was a major-league recycler and composter, so I spoke to him in honor of Earth Day; here’s what he said.

SFBG: So you’re a pretty eco-conscious guy – would you say you make green music?

Brett Dennen: I guess the biggest reason is that it seems like the smartest thing to do, to invest in and live in a way that creates instead of destroys. Y’know, leave as little trace as possible. I don’t think it really inspires me on an artistic level – I don’t think I’m passionate about it in that way. It’s just something I’ve always lived with – it was the way I was raised. I grew up composting, recycling food scraps, recycling, walking, and riding a bike everywhere. It’s not like a cause I found – it doesn’t move me to write about it.

Swooning over alt-folkie Kate Maki

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A recent performance by Kate Maki in her home province of Ontario.

By Todd Lavoie

Front porch romantics and summer sunset swooners, set your heartstrings a-flutter in anticipation. Canadian alt-country-folk songstress Kate Maki will bring her enchanting “No Depression” melodies to Café du Nord Thursday, April 24, opening for weirdly wonderful Giant Sand mastermind Howe Gelb. Trust me: if you’ve ever tumbled weak-kneed and flustered over the down homey charms of a blue highway-rambling singer-songwriter in your lifetime, you’ll fall hard for Maki. I certainly have.

Boasting an arrestingly gentle, plainspoken delivery, Maki fashions impressive levels of pull-up-a-chair-and-stay-awhile intimacy out of uncluttered arrangements and emotionally direct lyricism. A cross between Suzanne Vega and Iris DeMent, perhaps, though I do detect threads of similarity with Gillian Welch – albeit with considerably less of that tattered black-and-white Dorothea Lange photo vibe going on here – as well as with fellow Ontarian Sarah Harmer.

It’s immediate, familiar-as-an-old-friend kind of stuff – and yet it’s all quite stimulating and at times even challenging. It ain’t easy to craft deceptively simple, homespun little charmers like those on Maki’s recently released American debut, On High (Confusion Unlimited/Ow Om) – a lot of folks try and fail, often out of succumbing to cliché or insisting upon self-perceived limitations of the genre. Not an issue here: this 27-minute introduction is loaded with forcefully understated little wonders. Can’t wait to hear ’em live.

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