The members of the Music Library Association are doing their best to destroy the image of librarians as stodgy. To illustrate this point, I present the following, with contact information removed for the sake of privacy, especially since only MLA members can enter. I'm already composing my entry, which I may post here after the deadline.

MLA 75th ANNIVERSARY BLUES LYRIC COMPETITION

The Ad hoc Committee on MLA's 75th Anniversary is pleased to announce the MLA 75th ANNIVERSARY BLUES LYRIC COMPETITION. The competition, which feeds off of--and, we hope, honors--anniversary host city Memphis's valid claim as the "Birthplace of the Blues," is open to all individual members-in-good-standing of MLA with the exception of a) the panel of judges; b) the Ad hoc Committee on MLA's 75th Anniversary; and c) MLA's Board of Directors.

The contest begins as soon as you see either this notice on MLA-L or its counterpart, soon to appear in the Sept./Oct. MLA Newsletter--in other words, now!

Winners will have their blues performed by members of the MLA Big Band during the pre-banquet cocktail hour in Memphis. Our first-prize winner will take home a 4-CD set from JSP Records entitled Masters of Memphis Blues, which has generously been donated by ...

CONTEST RULES

1. Lyrics must somehow reflect or involve music librarians and/or music librarianship.

2. Lyrics must be humorous.

3. Lyrics must fit a standard, 12-bar blues of one type or another.

4. A submission may contain lyrics for one, two, or three 12-bar blues chorus stanzas. (Contestants need not submit three stanzas; three is just the maximum.)

5. Contestants should be prepared to offer an example of an existing, recorded blues to which their lyrics could be performed, to assist the Big Band in preparation. "To be sung to the tune of 'Move It On Over' as recorded by George Thorogood" is an acceptable direction. Contestants should also be prepared to clarify by phone any rhythmic ambiguities or "text underlay issues."

6. Only one entry per person.

7. Entries may be sent either via postal mail, postmarked 13 January 2006 at the latest, to . . .

8. The decisions of the judges (subject to approval by the MLA Board) are final.

9. A maximum of three entries will be selected for performance during the pre-MLA-banquet cocktail hour, with the 1st-prize winner to be featured last.

BLUES LYRIC TIPS, AND SOME CULTURAL GUIDELINES

To get contestants in the spirit, the following points are suggested, though none should be considered a hard-and-fast rule:

1. A standard blues chorus usually consists of two lines (the first lne, the first line repeated once, and the second line).

a. A lyric in active first-person tense is a good way to begin. "Woke up this morning" is a standard first phrase. "Took the bus downtown" is unusual, but much bluesier than "Drove my car uptown."

b. To complete your first blues line, allow a rest of two beats, then add a second clause: "Took the bus downtown (rest, rest), to get my fortune read."

c. Usually the first line is repeated to serve as the second line of a blues, so make it good, and leave your listeners hanging for the next new line.

d. The third line of a blues is the punch line--you are telling jokes, in a way. And make it rhyme with your first line. "I got off at the Peabody, to find the gypsy Fred." (On seeing this lowbrow example from the judges, contestants should feel encouraged to submit better lyrics.)

e. Contestants are welcome to take an existing blues and base their lyrics on the tune. After all, that is what many blues musicians do. Handy's "St. Louis Blues" is a good example of a blues. "Rock Around the Clock" and "Move It On Over" are in a different, but very acceptable verse-and-refrain blues form. "Blue Hawaii" is not a blues, even if it was sung by Elvis Presley.


2. The blues is a feeling. The following are some cultural bases for libraries:

a. You don't find the blues, the blues find you. Anyone looking for trouble usually deserves it. That is especially true for patrons with overdue books.

b. To have the blues, it helps more to be too hot than to be too cold. No one ever heard of a bluesman named Blind Joe Eskimo.

c. Dark, shaded areas like jails and juke joints are good places for the blues. In libraries, good dark places for the blues would be the stacks, or the storage room for book sale donations. So would the staff lounge, if at least one bulb is burned out. Technical services areas are generally too bright for the blues.

d. It helps to have a sense of ironic humor to sing the blues. That's why library administrators are not known to have the blues.

e. Blues is about doing with what you have. A library booktruck with over 15 years of use is as blues as a dented Chevy station wagon. A brand-new Pentium with a DVD burner and surround-sound speakers is not blues at all.

Finally got around to listening to Waiting for the Sirens' Call, New Order's latest album. The most accurate assessment is that it sounds like a New Order album. At its best is "Krafty," with a Stephen Morris's danceable beat, Peter Hook's bass in the forefront, synthesizer swashes from whoever has replaced Gillian Gilbert (now home with her and Stephen's kids), all topped off guitar riffs and vocals from Bernard Sumner. And it has a stereotypical New Order song title: concise and with no obvious relationship to the lyrics. The disc bottoms out towards the end with "Jetstream" and "Guilt Is a Useless Emotion," mainly because of the cloying female backing vocals, making it similar to the remixed versions of their hits on 1987's Substance compilation. At the time, it is just made the songs monotonous; now it sounds dated, a cheesy '80s production value that inspires no nostalgia.

Despite the inconceivable amount of destruction and despair in Katrina's wake, trumpeter Irvin Mayfield expressed some beautiful, eloquent thoughts on the symbolism of jazz and New Orleans on NPR's Morning Edition today:
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=4829486

On the other hand, New York City is in fine shape these days except for one legendary music spot on the Bowery.  CBGB's, the birthplace of punk, has lost its lease, and its landlord has refused to renew it despite pleas from the music community and many members of the city council.  The Village Voice has the story.
http://villagevoice.com/music/0536,sotc1,67478,22.html

Interesting interview with Echo & the Bunnymen frontman Ian McCulloch on RollingStone.com, particularly because it bodes well for their upcoming album Siberia. McCulloch acknowledges what has been my complaint with the band's recent work, that it's essentially a McCulloch solo effort on which guitarist Will Sergeant happens to appear. But the new disc finds them working as a band again. I'll believe when I hear it, but to hear McCulloch describe it, you might actually be able to tell that Sergeant is playing on this album.

The band hits the Metro in Chicago on Friday, November 25.

I had previously defended the Mooney Suzuki for working with trendy producers the Matrix, figuring there was only so much that the producers could do to fuck up a great band's sound. I was wrong. I bought Alive & Amplified on an impulse, discounting the poor reviews I'd glanced at. On their previous '60s-influenced disc, Electric Sweat, they gave shout-outs to Pete Townshend by name on "In a Young Man's Mind" and with reverential power chords on "I Woke Up This Mornin'" (currently on display in the Mitchum Man series of commercials). But the new album embraces the '80s in bad ways. We can blame the production team for the histrionic female back-up singers, but there's no excuse for a hair metal band-worthy tune about getting it in with groupies.

Although I lived in Philadelphia in 1985, I made no attempt to get tickets to Live Aid and even skipped town the day of the show, heading to New York for the weekend. Although I was, and still am, a huge music fan, my taste at the time was heavily Anglophilic. So all of the acts I would have been interested in seeing were playing in London, not Philly.

Likewise, I paid little attention to Live 8, even though I could have gotten to the Philly show without much inconvenience. By now, my taste in music is just too obscure to devote my time to such mainstream acts. I wish Bob Geldolf et al. the best of luck in their noble goals, but I was just as happy to watch live Tour de France coverage on Saturday.

Good news for the Double Door. The owners of the Wicker Park music venue and its landlord struck a deal to keep the place open. Throngs turned up in court today in support of the club as they were about to start the trial over the lease dispute. The Double Door web site has more details, but the short version is that the landlord claimed that the tenants didn't provide proper notice to renew their lease. The Double Door claimed that they had done so and that the landlord was just trying to force them out to replace them with a chain retail store. The Tribune has the full story.

Others will trot out names like Liz Phair, the Smashing Pumpkins and the Rolling Stones as proof of what an important institution it is, but my own list of highlights for the club skews more towards the obscure, which is why it's important to have clubs with capacity for a few hundred. Some life-affirming performances I've seen there:

New Bomb Turks
Magnetic Fields
Idlewild
Detroit Cobras
You Am I
Cynics
Therapy?

It was also one of the locations in High Fidelity, a movie about obsessive love of music. Lounge Ax, where another scene was filmed, has closed since the movie was shot six years ago. I'd hate to see the list of closed venues grow.

It's time for another post-WLUW-fund-drive CD review round-up. As much as I love the station, I still don't like to listen to the fund-raising blather, which in some cases is even more boring than the usual DJ blather.

The Kaiser Chiefs are another '80s post-punk influenced band, sounding vaguely like Gang of Four, XTC, etc. Their debut Employment gets off to a raucous start with "Every Day I Love You Less and Less." But there's so much filler that it doesn't bode well for a long-term career.

When I reviewed Madeline Peyroux's debut Dreamland in 1996, I commented that a chanteuse was a welcome change of pace after too many divas.  These days, Celine is too busy working Vegas and Whitney is too busy working rehab for either to be dominating the charts, but in the American Idol era, vocal subtlety is still an underappreciated art. Peyroux's new disc Careless Love mines the same Billie Holiday territory as Dreamland, to the point that I really wonder why she needed eight years to issue a follow-up. I can only guess that it took the popularity of Norah Jones to resuscitate label interest in genre, which makes the album feel like more of a lifestyle accessory than music.

The best thing I've heard lately is Petra Haden Sings: The Who Sell Out.  The title says exactly what it is, but it must be heard to be believed. Recorded over several years on an 8-track deck, Haden sings the album in its entirety a cappella, including the instrumental parts. She even recreates the original album art, replicating the scenes of each of the band members. The results are amusing, fascinating and beautiful. The arrangement makes the lyrics more distinct. Haden's concept draws attention to what an ambitious, original and half-ludicrous idea the original was: an album that includes commercials. The highlight is "I Can See For Miles," which, along with the Police's "Every Breath You Take," is one of the loveliest songs about stalking ever written.

I've been troubled by the widespread suppression of dissent that has become so commonplace under the current President. It's bad enough when it is carried out by the government, but its even worse when nongovernmental bodies do the same out of fear of backlash. I'm a big enough Nine Inch Nails fan to have seen them about 10 times, to still cling to my well-worn Pretty Hate Machine tour t-shirt and to buy their new albums the week of release. Until now, I've never known anything about Trent's political opinions, so obviously he's not one to really wear them on his sleeve. But MTV was so alarmed that they would have an image of George W. Bush as a backdrop while playing "The Hand That Feeds," that NIN decided to pull out of the MTV awards rather than ditch the photo.

The full statement is on the band's official web site, and I was surprised that MTV.com actually covered this in their news section.  MTV's official statement in response says they were "uncomfortable with their performance being built around a partisan political statement." As political statements go, it's a rather vague one. Therefore, the situation is all that more disturbing, that MTV is afraid of a single artist who merely hints at disagreeing with the current administration.

Concert Review: Gang of Four, Radio 4, Metro, Chicago, Wednesday, May 11

If a decade or two ago I had ever seen New Order, the Pixies or Wire put on as great a show as Gang of Four did on Wednesday night, I would have had second thoughts about skipping their recent reunion tours. While those other bands certainly recorded a bunch of great songs over the years, there was little point in going to their concerts. For all their charisma and stage presence, one could be just as entertained putting all their CDs on shuffle and spending the night on the sofa.

Not so Gang of Four. Dave Allen, Andy Gill and John King prowled, pranced and pounced on the stage, even if Hugo Burnham was a tad detached behind his drum kit. It was hard to decide what was best about "To Hell with Poverty," that is was instantly recognizable from the first searing guitar chord or that the lyrics were still so relevant in the current era of Republican callousness.

Dave Allen and I were both laid off by the same company when the dot com bubble burst. While I'm glad that, like me, he other skills to fall back on, I can't help but be jealous that his new job is lots cooler than mine as a librarian, even if I do get to spend the taxpayers' money on Gang of Four CDs.

Even if Radio 4 haven't carved a more unique identity than "Gang of Four admirers with more complex percussion," they have written some good songs in their own right. I finally figured out why they haven't connected as a live act. Especially after seeing the hyperactive Gang of Four, I realized that part of the problem is that, with all their gear, Radio 4 have nowhere to move around on stage even if they wanted to. But the bigger problem is simply the sound mix. The bass is cranked so high it drowns out all the other instruments, particularly the scratchy guitar.

Concert Recommendation: Gang of Four with Radio 4, May 11 & 12 at the Metro

Before there was Franz Ferdinand, the Futureheads and a myriad of other early-'80s angular punk revival bands, there was the original angular punk band, Gang of Four. Their songs are now underground classics, epitomized by scratching guitars and throbbing basslines: "I Found That Essence Rare," "I Love a Man in a Uniform," "Damaged Goods," etc. Their influence is all over the charts these days. And the original line-up has reunited to bask in the warranted glory.

Admittedly, their first reunion tour in 1991 for Mall, which only included original members Andy Gill and Jon King, didn't make much of an impression on me. But I wasn't as familiar with their back catalog then.  More importantly, the rhythm section of drummer Hugo Burnham and Dave Allen is with them now, and Allen is not only a distinctive player but also has considerable stage presence. So this tour bodes better than those for, say Wire or New Order, influential bands who don't provide much worth watching in concert.

Radio 4, a Brooklyn band who take lots of inspiration from Gang of Four but haven't gotten nearly the level of publicity as their like-sounding peers, are opening. I've seen them twice and found them somehow lacking. As much as I love their edgy, driving recordings, they haven't connected yet live. But I view it as a "yet," holding out hope that they'll find a way to make their shows more invigorating.

Gang of Four play with Radio 4 at the Metro, 3730 N. Clark St., Chicago, 773.549.0203 at 7:30 on Wednesday, May 11 and Thursday, May 12.

Concert Recommendation: The Wedding Present, Saturday April 23 and Sunday, April 24, Double Door

I'm definitely a music first/lyrics second music fan. If the music doesn't hook me, I won't stick around to find out if the lyrics are worthwhile. The main reason I've been such a devoted fan of David Gedge's career is my awe for his lyrics, but it was his bands' music that lured me. Lured me in to the point of running out to buy their CD the day after I saw them for the first time. It's frenzied, and it invites a frenzied response, although they've certainly come to appreciate the power of a slower tempo at times. Still, nothing beats the sight of Gedge attempting to saw a guitar in half with his bare hands.

At this point, there's considerable overlap in personnel between the Weddoes and Cinerama, and the last few Cinerama tours included Wedding Present songs, so they may be trotting some Cinerama numbers as well as highlights from their splendid return, Take Fountain.

The Wedding Present play the Double Door, 1572 N. Milwaukee, Chicago, 773.489.3160, at 10:00 p.m. on Saturday, April 23 and Sunday, April 24.

Movie Review: End of the Century: The Story of the Ramones

Some details about the individual members of the Ramones have emerged with their passing in recent years, but End of the Century made me realize just how little I knew about them. I was familiar with the basic story: four degenerates from Queens formed a band. Their distinctive aesthetic of three chords and three-minute songs defined punk and has been hugely influential, notably for other artists that have gone on to greater popularity, but the Ramones themselves never had the big commercial breakthrough for which they hoped. The movie not only chronicles this story in much greater detail but also lets their personalities emerge. The guys are complex and not always very pleasant, and the movie doesn't shy away from this. There are plenty of revelations as well as lots of music and concert footage that cements their well-earned reputation.

The DVD includes extra footage, such as Marky explaining how their style of playing required so much stamina that it was more difficult than more florid rock and the mostly-forgotten Richie Ramone reminiscing about Johnny's dismissing his suggestion of using a minor chord.

The hardest part of watching it was realizing how many people in it are already dead. Joey had already succumbed to cancer before the film was made, although he was in plenty of the archival footage. Johnny and Dee Dee Ramone and Joe Strummer were interviewed for the movie, and all were gone before the movie's release last year.

Concert Review: The Wonder Stuff, Metro, April 12

Miles Hunt has managed to alienate some people in his lifetime. As mentioned in my previous post, two former Wonder Stuff members are pissed off that he's using the band name without them. In introducing a song at last night's show at the Metro, he related an anecdote that involved mutual acquaintances describing him to a friend using an epithet that rhymes with his last name. One imagines that his caustic wit his cost him some friendships over the years, but it's that same caustic wit that makes him such a distinctive lyricist. However, biting words aren't enough to captivate attention, as I learned catching his solo shows about six years ago. For that you need a full band, and Miles brought them along with the re-formed Stuffies. (He got encouragement from Joe Strummer. Who's to argue?)

As four burly security guards lined up in the no man's land between the stage and audience, I thought, "That's awfully optimistic." The band were never terribly popular in the U.S. even at their peak 15 or so years ago, and it's not exactly like their reputation has grown since then. In other words, I expected a small, aging crowd. What I didn't expect was that I wasn't the only one to have memorized the lyrics to Eight Legged Groove Machine or how well both the material and the band have held up. Miles and fellow founder Malc Treece were having a blast and were energetic performers, tearing it up on guitars and vocals. The new recruits on bass and drums had little of Miles and Malc's chemistry but were sufficiently talented.

With the reincarnation of the band, they are taking nothing for granted. Miles joked about the apathy with which their latest single was greeted in the UK, especially compared to the chart heights they reached in their heyday. But it's hard to call it pandering when they were singing things like, "I didn't like you very much when I met you/And now I like you even less" and "Radio Ass Kiss on the air." The show was a revelation, that the Stuffies really were just as good as I remembered them, and that it's unfortunate that so few people latched onto their galloping insult-a-thon on the first go-round.

Concert Recommendation:  The Wonder Stuff, Tuesday, April 12, Metro

Band reunion season continues unabated. The Undertones and Gang of Four will be in Chicago within the next month, but first up is the less-heralded Wonder Stuff. Although lead Stuffy Miles Hunt's sharp wit set him apart from his grebo counterparts, his acoustic solo appearances lacked oomph without a full band.

So it's great to see the eight-to-ten-legged groove machine back together, although, um some of those legs are stomping in protest. Two previous members are not involved and are taking offense that Miles Hunt, Malc Treece and some new recruits are billing themselves as the Wonder Stuff. Call it the battle of "Who Wants to Be the Disco King?"

The Wonder Stuff play with As Fast As at the Metro, 3730 N. Clark St., Chicago, 773-549-0203, at 7:30 on Tuesday, April 12.

Concert Review:  Ash, The Bravery, Metro, April 8

I've gotten over my initial wrath, but I feel like I'm cursed when it comes to seeing Ash. Of their four stops in Chicago in support of Free All Angels, I missed one because of health problems and one because I was sitting in traffic for two hours trying to get to godforsaken Tinley Park where they were the opening band on the Area2 festival. So I was thrilled that they were scheduled to headline the Metro. Until I got there a little past 8 p.m. and discovered that, rather than headlining, they were in the middle slot and I'd missed the opening of their set.

I can guess the scenario on why this happened: They are probably touring with the Bravery. The Bravery aren't really hyped, but they do have a massive advertising budgeting, their fancy coiffures arousing public curiosity. Once the audience gets a load of the haircuts, they weren't bothering to stick around for Ash, who don't have the same marketing push. So the bands swapped spots to increase Ash's exposure rather than suffer the indignation of headlining to a half-empty house. But it is nonetheless a massive frustration to Ash's small but determined following, especially when I timed my arrival without regard to catching the opening acts and there was no advance announcement of the switch.

But I'll take what I can get: Tim Wheeler's young metalhead-turned-pop-punk (manifested in an astonishing collection of flying V guitars). Charlotte Hatherley's inherent coolness. The infectious giddiness of "Kung Fu." The new material from Meltdown doesn't make it an immediate must-buy, but shows the potential to grow on you.

As for the Bravery, why don't they just skip the music and cut straight to the hair styling product endorsement contract that they are so clearly gunning for, except for the mismatched keyboardist who must have been out sick the day they met with their stylist and wardrobe consultant.

Album Review:
The Wedding Present
Take Fountain

There is always a fear the first time one listens to new material from your favorite band that this is the one to destroy your faith, the one that will break your heart. I am happy to report that Take Fountain, the long-awaited return of the Wedding Present, doesn't break your heart, it breaks your heart. It takes all of a minute and a half for David Gedge to deliver the zinger, "In case you suddenly remember that I'm still alive."

In the old SAT world of analogies, Iggy Pop's Naughty Little Doggy is to Avenue A as Cinerama's Torino is to Take Fountain. With the former albums, it was obvious that all was not right at home; the news that Iggy had gotten divorced and that Gedge had split from longtime partner (and Cinerama co-conspirator) Sally Murrell was hardly a surprise. And in both cases, the latter works are the "back on the market" albums. Gedge is dealing with rebound relationships ("I'm From Further North Than You"), meeting the ex's new beau ("Mars Sparkles Down on Me"), discovering that he's been seduced and abandoned (opening track "Interstate 5") and just trying to get on with life after the demise of a long relationship ("Larry's"). On one had, the return of the Wedding Present also means a return of the frenzied, noisy bashing that Gedge mostly suppressed in Cinerama, despite overlapping personnel. But influences of the near decade of Cinerama surface, too, with string arrangements and an extended homage to Ennio Morricone.

While the reunion of the Wedding Present is certainly cause for celebration, it's not like David Gedge disappeared during the nine years of the band's inactivity. Regardless of whether he's wearing his Cinerama or Wedding Present hat, he continues to amaze with his precise takes on heartbreak and the general awkwardness of love.

VH1 doesn't broadcast the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony live presumably so that they can edit it down, but this should also give them time to do fact-checking rather than building up inaccurate hype. In teasers during the show, they claimed that Bruce Springsteen and U2 would be performing together live for "the first time ever" and that it was a "once-in-a-lifetime" union. Except that Bruce had shown up at their show in Philly on September 25, 1987, joining them for "Stand By Me." It was an intimate club, JFK Stadium, in front of only about 80,000 or so fans.

Concert Review: Interpol, Aragon Ballroom, March 11

Interpol just don't cut it as mope rock. I am now twice the age I was when I first discovered their influences, most notably the Chameleons and Joy Division. Those early bands helped me weather the emotional turmoil of my college years. The last time I saw Interpol, September 2003, I was mightily depressed for more adult reasons, and they didn't alleviate my misery.

But I was in a better frame of mind during their show last Friday night, and it all worked. Their lyrical vagueness didn't matter, nor that Antics doesn't break much new ground from Turn on the Bright Lights. Musically, they were strong, and bassist Carlos D. provided the rock star wardrobe and moves. He's also found an effective styling product so that he's no longer fussing with his hair between songs. It all just washed over me.

As part of a pitch during WLUW's pledge drive today, the DJ pointed out that they played a deep cut from Gang of Four's Entertainment, not just "Damaged Goods" or "I Found That Essence Rare," as if to imply that the commercial radio stations are all over those "hits." It also made me realize the extent to which I discovered the punk and post-punk of the '70s and early '80s mostly after the fact and almost exclusively from great radio stations, mostly of the non-commercial variety. So while the Drive brags about their Deep Tracks from Beatles albums, I'd settle for a commercial station that regularly features even shallow tracks from Entertainment, Pink Flag or All Mod Cons.

And while I heartily endorse the 'LUW pledge drive, that doesn't mean I actually want to listen to it, so I've been catching up on my CDs. As much as I'm enjoying Franz Ferdinand and the Futureheads, I don't know if I can claim to be listening to new music when it sounds like much like Gang of Four, the Jam and early XTC. These are well-chosen influences, but I'm not sure if it helps my hipster cred to be listening to such young bands or if I'm just a stick-in-the-mud because I'm not venturing into new sounds. I think the distant time frame wins out on cred points. The Mighty Lemon Drops were clearly riding the coattails of Echo & the Bunnymen, the former emerging during the latter's peak in popularity. But Franz Ferdinand and the Futureheads are reviving an aesthetic from 25 years ago, which I think therefore makes at least one of them the new Stray Cats.

I gave up on Spin in 1992 when they couldn't be bothered to fact check that March 10 was a Tuesday, not a Sunday, which called into question plenty of other facts they reported that weren't so easily verified. But they occasionally have some useful nuggets of information. Namely, although I'd already heard that Gang of Four are back together, I learned first in the latest issue of Spin that Pop Will Eat Itself and House of Love are, too. No U.S. tour dates announced for any of the three bands yet, but Gang of Four claims an American schedule is coming soon.

Looks like Lance Armstrong will be subject to another round of questioning. Some of his critics have wondered whether his cancer treatments enhanced his performance as a cyclist, a claim he has repeatedly dismissed. But at last night's Grammy awards, Melissa Etheridge, who is undergoing treatment for breast cancer, gave a rousing, spirited performance in tribute to Janis Joplin, certainly besting much of he "competition," mainly the tentative "Across the Universe," performed by a group of nervous, under-rehearsed all stars. So either cancer treatment does indeed enhance performance, or Melissa, like Lance, just came in better prepared.

WXRT DJ Terri Hemmert recently played Aztec Camera's cover of Van Halen's "Jump," noting that she was playing it from vinyl, the b side of a single, because the track wasn't available on CD. Which had me pondering, is "b side" becoming an antiquated term, unfamiliar to the youngest generation of music listeners (a.k.a. Kids These Days)? CD singles, which were never very popular, usually have additional tracks, but there is no flip single to them like a 7-inch has, which makes "b side" arbitrary nomenclature to begin with. With the growing acceptance of buying single tracks as downloads, there aren't even additional songs attached to better known recordings.

A high school student responded "What's that?" when I said, "LPs" to her.  She knew what records were, but the concept of a long playing record was meaningless to her even though I think of it synonymously with "album." I didn't think to quiz her on 8-tracks.

Wanted: Sign of the Apocalypse, musical variety

The music world is currently faced with a void: no musician to serve as evidence that our society is headed directly to hell in a hand basket. After several years in that position, Eminem's shock value has worn off. Limp Bizkit were already washed up by the time Fred Durst threw a hissy fit in Chicago in 2003. Four years ago, The Onion was already joking "Marilyn Manson Now Going Door-To-Door Trying To Shock People." There's a limited shelf life for shock value, especially, in Manson's case, when your entire raison d'être is marketing yourself as a musician to piss off and horrify teenagers' parents. But we always need to have one, and no one new has emerged now that Eminem is a routine part of our cultural landscape, despite Janet Jackson's best efforts a year ago.

Pop is the comedy of music. Because it's accessible, it is undervalued by "serious" fans. "Oh, you have to listen to this at least ten times before you really get it," is the kind of praise offered to esoteric rock albums, as if there's a something wrong with music that is instantly enjoyable. Sonic Youth are lauded for becoming intentionally more obscure.

Instead, let's give props to Junior Senior, the duo whose D-D-Don't Stop the Beat is astonishingly fun from the get-go. I love Daydream Nation as much as the next music snob, but I doubt Thurston, Kim, et al. could come up with anything as catchy as half the tracks on that CD, especially these days.

Concert Review:  Die Warzau and DJ? Acucrack, Metro, January 7

Holey and Stinky are back. Die Warzau duo Van Christie and Jim Marcus aren't widely known by that appellation, but that's what my editors and I dubbed them after smelling the former when he was setting up for their opening slot for Nine Inch Nails and learning about the latter's fondness for body piercing from their publicist. Big Electric Metal Bass Face was a tasty slice of industrial funk and "Strike to the Body" sounded like a Nitzer Ebb track, which isn't a bad thing. 1995's Engine was well-regarded, but I never heard about it at the time, perhaps because I had not yet moved to their home of Chicago.

So Die Warzau's first activity in a decade was worth investigating. Based on the facts and slogans projected on the screen before they started and on Marcus's exhortations for equal rights for gays and lesbians, their reunion may have been inspired more by recent political activities than by artistry. There are worse reasons to resurrect a band, like money, and the Metro was only moderately full, so we can rule out the cash incentive.

Their performance was likewise moderately successful: not outright bad, but nothing really clicked. Maybe it was the lack of a strong funk groove that drove me to see them several times in '91. Frontman Marcus is quite passionate in his political beliefs. He might be better served seeking another communications medium for his activism.

DJ? Acucrack: Thrashing at my PowerBook. The pair made a lot of sound, but none of it was a distinctive. They had some other equipment, but the most notable thing was that they really enjoyed cranking at their computers.

"Lesson Number 1: If the band doesn't destroy their equipment, you don't get to, either."

Rachel Nagy, lead singer of the Detroit Cobras, offered this advice to audience at their show at Cleveland's Beachland Ballroom on Sunday night. Here's another piece of advice. There are some standard questions you can ask yourself to determine if you are an alcoholic, but I've got one more for the list: Have you ever been a one-person mosh pit?  It's never pretty. I've seen it at least twice where is was clearly substance-induced. The woman at the Cobras show was slugging down airline bottles of liquor. A guy at a Chills show in Philly twelve years ago attacked an innocent bystander and knocked out some of his teeth.

Then there was a fixture at Pearl Street in Northampton. He was regularly a one-man mosh pit but appeared to be just oddly enthusiastic and was never dangerous to those around him.

But if you can answer "yes" to "Have you ever been a one-person mosh pit?" then please get help. If not for your own sake, then at least for the sake of your fellow concert-goers and the bands themselves.

I recently attended my 20 year high school reunion. The event included a DJ with the promise of period-specific music. Some of it was dead-on for the era, such as Duran Duran and Culture Club. But there were some glaring errors, or at least errors that were glaring to me. Frankie Goes to Hollywood's "Relax" and Animotion's "Obsession" may have been released in 1984, the year we graduated, but the songs came out after graduation. "Relax" hit in late summer, "Obsession" the following winter, so I clearly associate them with college, not high school. But I'm probably more of a music geek than everyone else in my class, so no one else may have noticed, not even  when she played the Spring, 1985 Tears for Fears track.

Since no one was dancing anyway, it would have been fun to have a more well-rounded early '80s soundtrack. I love new wave as much as anyone who once sported an asymmetric haircut (although that wasn't until 1985), but Rush, Genesis and Yes were the music of choice for one set of friends. At least she played Crosby, Still, Nash & Young's "Our House" which I strongly associate with high school because one of my classic rock-loving friends took offense at Madness for having the temerity to write a song with the same name.

Might as well quote the whole thing:

H.O.P.E & KNITTING FACTORY NYC OFFER ASHLEE SIMPSON CD TRADE IN
The Knitting Factory along with H.O.P.E. (Horrified Observers of Pedestrian Entertainment) are offering the good people of America who have been duped into buying Ashlee Simpson's CD a reprieve; the opportunity to turn in her CD for one of a higher entertainment quality. Just bring your Ashlee Simpson CD down to the Knitting Factory Box Office between 10 and 5 PM Mon thru Sat and get one by the likes of Elvis Costello, The Ramones, X, Jimmy Page and Robert Plant, Aretha Franklin, Mr. Bungle, Ray Charles, Abe Lincoln Story, Grateful Dead, Neil Hamburger, Joni Mitchell, and Brian Wilson (while supplies last / selections vary) courtesy of Rhino Records in replacement. If you're in a city outside NYC, contact Hopeinfilm@aol.com or visit www.hopeinamerica.com for an exchange.

I like the concept, but I'm a little troubled by the choice of artists. While they're all great, they're largely artists from the LP/birth of FM radio era, including bands with dead members, which perpetuates the idea that being a real musician is an antiquated notion. I realize that Rhino specializes in reissues so they're unlikely to have anything new in their catalog, but this would be even more meaningful if they offered exchanges for recording artists of the MP3/birth of satellite radio era who are doing it real, like the Roots or Interpol.

I'd held off on commenting on the Ashlee Simpson SNL lip-synching debacle because I didn't want to repeat all the obvious reactions. What I do find troubling is the idea that lip-synching is now so commonplace that our youngest generation of music fans might not be appalled. One of the Simpson camp's myriad justifications is that every major star these days does it because fans want the live performance to sound like the record. Maybe this is an inevitable expectation in this age of overproduced albums, particularly with the widespread use of ProTools for pitch correction and other technological enhancements for "singers" who can't really sing. By extension, it implies that fans expect live performances to replicate overproduced videos in which singers (and I again use the word loosely) execute precision dance moves, never running out of breath because they are mouthing along to their own recordings for filming.

I guess this is where I'm hopelessly old school. For the bands I love the most, the challenge of recording is to capture the energy of the live show, not the other way around. When this controversy arose a decade ago regarding Janet Jackson's "live" performances, I opined that I'd rather take a chance on a Replacements show, where they might be horrible or they might be utterly amazing, then get the predictability of canned performance.

I have my doubts about all the "major" artists resorting to backing tracks and canned vocals. Many minor ones certainly don't; you'd be hard-pressed to find anyone doing this among the determined fringe who play venues like the Empty Bottle and Schuba's. Considering that she charges hundreds of dollars for the best seats, Better Midler would qualify as a major artist, but she made a point of the announcing at a recent show that the voice and the tits were real. Which makes Bette Midler more punk rock than Ashlee Simpson.

While remembering John Peel's legacy, I discovered two things. The bad news was that my Babes in Toyland and Billy Bragg Peel Sessions were among the CDs stolen from my apartment in 1993 that I never replaced, in part because I had trouble remembering which CDs were taken. The good news is that, in reading the memorial posting from David Gedge on the Cinerama/Wedding Present site, I found that the Wedding Present are back together and are releasing a new album next year.

Incidentally, the 1993 thieves only got stuff from the beginning of the alphabet, so I still have my Wedding Present Peel Sessions.

I was shocked and saddened to learn of the death of British DJ John Peel. Best known in the U.S. to hardcore music fans for his name attached to Peel Sessions radio studio recordings, he was a lifelong champion of great music. He joined the BBC with the launch of Radio 1 and was its only remaining original DJ. Throughout his career, he continuously sought out new music and shared it with his audience. Many artists are chiming in with tributes, acknowledging that they owe the launch of their careers to his early exposure. The most thorough and appreciative coverage of his work and its influence comes from the UK, such as the BBC and NME.com.

When attending the Reading Festival in 1990 and 1991, I got to experience his fantastic taste first-hand. I was initially struck by just how great the music was between sets and only learned afterwards that he was spinning the discs.

I interviewed Peel in 1991, I think as part of PR campaign to promote the U.S. release of Peel Sessions and attempted launch of syndicated radio show. The show never took off, but it was the best interview I ever conducted. It wasn't entirely surprising since he talks for a living, as opposed to the musicians I interview who pick up guitars because they're not comfortable talking to people. But he was funny, humble and full of amusing anecdotes.

I've been playing some promo CDs with his announcing. He explained that he didn't earn any royalties off the Peel Sessions. They were the result of an agreement with the musicians' union when BBC Radio 1 was launched that all shows must include a portion of live music, meaning something recorded in the BBC studios. As he noted, this meant they were able to play works in progress, unusual groupings of musicians and artists who hadn't otherwise entered a recording studio yet. Next up on my CD player: Peel Sessions by Babes in Toyland, the Wedding Present and the Chameleons.

Concert Recommendations: Mission of Burma, Metro; The Cramps, The Vic Theatre; both shows 9:00 p.m., Saturday, October 23

One big frustration of music journalism is the lack of real impact. Publicists and writers don't like to admit it, but press alone doesn't sell records, certainly not the way radio airplay does. So it's gratifying when the written word has a significant effect on connecting worthy music with an audience. Such is the case with Mission of Burma. The band broke up in 1983, ahead of their time musically and in terms of the supporting infrastructure needed to support the kind of music that was ahead of its time, namely a network of specialized clubs and non-commercial radio stations. But inspired by their inclusion in Michael Azerrad's Our Band Could Be Your Life: Scenes from the American Indie Underground 1981-1991, where they were among 13 influential bands profiled, the band reunited in 2002. They toured to glowing acclaim and now have a CD of new material, ONoffON and are on tour again.

The only problem is that the show conflicts with the Cramps. Based purely on the amount of sweat generated in an average performance, Cramps frontman Lux Interior is the hardest working man in show business. The guy gives his all, stomping around the stage in high heels, tearing off most of his clothes, even vomiting on stage in the middle their set at the 1990 Reading Festival while barely missing a beat. And his lovely wife Poison Ivy Rorschach is an underrated guitarist with a huge, distinctive sound. If that's not enough, try these three words: "Elvis Fucking Christ!" It's the highlight of last year's Fiends of Dope Island.

Which show gets the edge? I'm going with the Cramps because it's my first concert in almost four months, my first time leaving my baby with a sitter for the evening, and the Cramps are a sure thing. Television's reunion tour also earned rave reviews but I found them too cerebral, making me hesitant about MoB; however, drummer Peter Prescott's Volcano Suns were so amazing in 1990 that I saw them twice in just over a week, the second show being the best three-band line-up I've ever seen (on between the Unrest and the Wedding Present). So there are no losers except those who skip both shows.

Mission of Burma play the Metro, 3730 N. Clark, Chicago, at 9 p.m. on Saturday, October 23 with Eleventh Dream Day and Pit er Pat.  The Cramps play the Vic Theatre, 3145 N. Sheffield Ave., Chicago at the same time, with the Gore Gore Girls and Ladies and Gentlemen.

I can bitch and moan about Rolling Stone's music coverage for a variety of reasons, but occasionally they get it right. And sometimes they get it right in retrospect, too. RollingStone.com is running the magazine's original article on the Ramones, when their eponymous debut was released in 1976.

Just saw the ad for the new REM album. When did Brendan Fraser replace Peter Buck?

He don't wanna be buried in a pet semetary, so he'll be cremated instead.

Guess I was too engrossed in Rosh Hashanah, so I missed the news that Johnny Ramone has succumbed to cancer.

Fireside Bowl, not quite R.I.P.

I heard on WNUR last night that the Fireside Bowl had closed, but this is not quite accurate. According to the venue's web site, "Until recently booking was handled by MPShows and due to recent developments this relationship has ended. . . The Fireside will continue to have live entertainment." For now, however, all upcoming shows have been canceled.

I have mixed feelings about the venue. The acoustics are terrible, and bands that have been terrific elsewhere just have their sound deadened there. One of my friends argued that the atmosphere more than makes up for the lousy acoustics. The first time I was there after we'd had this discussion, a cockroach moseyed along the bar as I was downing a drink. This was a little more atmosphere than I could deal with, but the band that night did sound good.

It's like the X Games for a different demographic! For those who aren't into "action sports" (which implies that all other sports entail inaction) and its accompanying soundtrack of nü-metal or thrash metal or thrash punk or whatever music is licensed for the latest Tony Hawk video game, Nike is organizing "Run Hit Wonder" in Chicago on Thursday, September 23. As the name implies, it's a race featuring performances by one-hit wonder artists along the route: Tone Loc, Tommy Tutone, A Flock of Seagulls, General Public, and Devo at the end. No word on whether the musicians will keep playing their same sole hit over and over, although Tone Loc really could alternative "Wild Thing" and "Funky Cold Medina."

In any case, the routes are only 5k and 10k, making them suitable for novice racers, and they need volunteers if you don't want to run. Advance registration is required. Details are at www.nikerunhitwonder.com.

Concert Recommendation: The Hives, the Metro, Monday, July 26

Many reviews of the Hives show at the South by Southwest music festival expressed amazement that the uniformly attired Swedish garage rockers were more than a one-hit wonder novelty act. Clearly, no one who said that had seen them previously or bothered to listen to Veni Vidi Vicious in its entirety. Frontman Howlin' Pelle Almqvist commands attention, and the band knows how to squeeze the most out of a three-minute rock song, or, in the case of "The Hives-Declare Guerre Nucleaire," squeeze a three-minute rock song into a minute and a half.

The Hives play the Metro, 3730 N. Clark, Chicago, 773.549.0203, at 7 p.m. with Sahara Hotnights and the Reigning Sound.

I declined to recommend the Streets' show in Chicago a few weeks ago because, as much as I like Original Pirate Material, I wasn't impressed by main Street Mike Skinner as a live performer. It wasn't for the reasons described in my previous entry, the problem of the producer being more talented than the artist. It was because of diluted entertainment. Skinner spent too much time giving shout-outs to Chicago and generally pandering to the audience and not enough time actually playing his songs.

But there's no such problem with Skinner's sophomore effort A Grand Don't Come For Free. Like its predecessor, the production values are still rinky-dink, but they befit the mundane existence that the album chronicles. Grand is more ambition than Original Pirate Material even if its narrator isn't. It's a song cycle about a day in a life, a day where everything goes wrong, from the TV breaking to £1000 disappearing from his home. The lyrics are precise and humorous, the best on "Fit But You Know It," similar in theme to Mudhoney's "You Got It" but with the added bonus of the singer losing his place in line at the chip shop after being distracted by the ego-inflated hottie. Skinner's simultaneous pick-up/put-down:

See I reckon you're about an 8 or a 9
Maybe even 9 and a half in four beers time

Concert Recommendation: The Mooney Suzuki, the Metro, Wednesday, July 7

I've always had more faith in bands whose albums don't live up to their concerts rather than vice versa. When an artist is great on disc but lackluster live, it implies that the talent was more in the hands of the producer. But it's the producer's shortcomings that result in a great live band's energy not being captured in recording, or at least that the band brings a strong visual element in front of an audience. With this in mind, there is much unnecessary trepidation about production team the Matrix producing the new Mooney Suzuki album. The Matrix is best known for their slick work with Avril Lavigne and on Liz Phair's self-titled (aka sell-out) album. So they may fuck with the band's recorded sound, but there's no way they can dilute the Mooney Suzuki's mighty power as a live act. Go see for yourself, then judge the upcoming Alive & Amplified on its own merits.

The Mooney Suzuki plays the Metro, 3730 N. Clark, Chicago, 773.549.0203, at 7 p.m. with Capitol Years and the Last Vegas.

This goes beyond a mere concert recommendation since it is worth plane tickets: Little Steven's International Underground Garage Festival, Saturday, August 14, Randall's Island, New York

Holy crap! What a vast amount of talent, all appearing on one day, and for only $20 in advance.

Here's the list of who is confirmed to appear so, with more still possible: Iggy Pop & The Stooges, The New York Dolls, The Pretty Things, Bo Diddley, The Raveonettes, The Mooney Suzuki, The Romantics, The Electric Prunes, The Chesterfield Kings, The Fuzztones, The Cynics, The Stems, The Chains, The Singles, The Contrast, The Woggles, The Boss Martians, The High Dials, The Forty-Fives, The Shazam, The Cocktail Slippers, The Star Spangles, The Charms, and the Flaming Sideburns.

Yes, you read it right. The New York Dolls are back together (based in encouragement from longtime fanboy Morrissey), but that's just one of many, many lures for a day featuring several decades worth of great garage rock. Looks like there are enough acts to fill two stages, so the only hard part will be deciding who to see when.

There are two schools of thought on using sound to calm a baby. One is to play soothing music. Traditionally, this means lullabies, but the more recent trend is serene classical music. The other option is white noise such as a vacuum cleaner or radio static on the theory that it replicates the sound inside the womb. I've discovered a better option that combines both concepts: the wall of droning guitar that is Spaceman 3. My infant son always stops crying within the six minutes of "Walkin' with Jesus (Sound of Confusion)," as found on the Singles CD on Taang! Rocking and bouncing him helps, but he frequently falls asleep entirely during the track, with a better success rate than rocking and bouncing without such musical accompaniment.

Concert Recommendation: Magnetic Fields, Old Town School of Folk Music, June 25-27

Stephin Merritt is one of the most gifted songwriters working today. His love songs are clever, funny and poignant. He's got about a zillion side projects including Future Bible Heroes and the Sixths, but the Magnetic Fields is his main gig. And he's finally followed up 1999's monumental with 69 Love Songs with i. With a mere 14 tracks, i lacks the scope of the previous work but it also eliminates the experimental filler that watered down some of 69's impact. Stephin and coconspirator Claudia Gonson take a wonderfully informal approach to their live performance. Arrive prepared to pay attention to the lyrics.

The Magnetic Fields play with Andrew Bird at the Old Town School of Folk Music, 4544 N. Lincoln Ave., Chicago, 773.728.6000, at 8 p.m. on Friday, June 25 and at 3:30 and 8 p.m. on Saturday, June 26 and Sunday, June 27.

Concert Recommendation: Patti Smith, Navy Pier Skyline Stage, June 24

A few summers ago, the Patti Smith Group played a free outdoor show sponsored by the Tribune. A WXRT DJ gave a deeply reverential introduction. Yes, Smith's 1975 debut Horses frequently turns up on lists of the greatest rock albums ever. She's an integral part of the early New York punk scene with such peers as the Ramones, Talking Heads and Blondie. Her continuing influence can be heard in the Strokes. But she was having none of the ego-stroking. She dismissed the praise and claimed that she and the band were just a bunch of fuck-ups. The long-time members of the group cheered wildly for what they deemed a more accurate appraisal while the young guns on stage looked awkward.

Because of long gaps between albums and therefore long gaps between tours, her live reputation isn't as entrenched, even if Gilda Radner did parody her as "Candy Slice" back when Saturday Night Live was relevant and funny. Like Iggy Pop, she gives herself fully to the material. She's an uninhibited and charismatic performer. Her new album Trampin' will give her a chance to show this off at the Skyline Stage.

Patti Smith plays the Navy Pier Skyline Stage  at 7:30 p.m. on Thursday, June 24.

High Fidelity is my favorite novel because it so precisely captures the music geek world I live in. Although the movie adaptation was flawed, mainly by the lack of chemistry between John Cusack and Iben Hjejle, it captured that music geek spirit. My favorite scenes were the ones that visually conveyed more than mere words could in the book. In particular, Dick (Todd Louiso) finds Rob (Cusack) in his apartment surrounded by stacks and stacks of records, which Rob is reorganizing. Dick is unable to guess at the new classification scheme. Rob triumphantly announces he's doing it autobiographically.

There's a great deal of truth behind that humorous concept: if music is a big part of your life, you associate certain songs or bands with other aspects of your life. And Fountains of Wayne concerts are now firmly intermingled with memories of the birth of my son. I got the first unsolicited comment from a stranger on my pregnancy at their show at the Vic last November. The security woman who frisked me apologized for doing so since I was expecting. I had only announced my pregnancy recently and was taken aback by her comment since I didn't think my condition was that obvious. Their show at Rockin' de Mayo was the last concert I attended while pregnant; I sat at the foot of the stage since I couldn't stand that long. And their show last night at Taste of Randolph St. was my son's first concert.

Normally, I'd be offering up a review. But my attention was split between the band and the boy. Rather than being in the thick of the audience, we stood on the outskirts to protect his hearing and so I could fend off the encroaching drunks (Some people came to the festival to drink, not to see the band.) The band did offer a small surprise, namely that they've changed the set. Unlike their last three shows here in the last year, they didn't play "Radiation Vibe" as the last song before the encore, nor did they go into tangent covers of arena rock and the Cars' "Let's Go" on that song, just playing it straight through. This gave me hope that they might finally play "Little Red Light," but for my baby's well-being, we left during the encore without ever hearing it. The baby slept through most of the show, but I hope at some point he appreciates the music his parents exposed him to from such an early age.

Concert Recommendation: Taste of Randolph St., Saturday, June 19

When considering a move to the New York area last year, I asked myself what the advantages were of New York versus Chicago. Chicago was the big winner on free outdoor concerts. The Taste of Chicago and Blues Fest may have set the precedent and attract the bigger names, but the best action is at the neighborhood festivals. New York has nothing like them.

The problem with the big Grant Park shows is that they are events more than concerts. So more people are there just to hang out rather than see specific performances, and the sound system is too muddy to really cover the space. On the other hand, smaller neighborhood festivals are more concentrated, attracting smaller crowds so that it's easier to provide adequate sound and making it possible to pack the area in front of the stage with actual fans. Yes, lots of these events just bring out the usual cavalcade of local bar bands, and most have a suggested donation for entry, but the better ones provide well-known talent at a price much cheaper than you'd pay at club to see them normally. Highlights of the last few years include Shellac, Jill Sobule and Interpol. The Taste of Randolph St. has been particularly fruitful, including appearances by Morphine and They Might Be Giants.

This year's Taste of Randolph packs an impressive double wallop on Saturday: back-to-back performances by Ted Leo/Pharmacists and Fountains of Wayne. Let's just hope that FoW singer Chris Collingwood has caught up on his rest since their show last month at Rockin' de Mayo.

Ted Leo/Pharmacists and Fountains of Wayne play the Taste of Randolph St., 900-1200 West Randolph St., Chicago, at 6 p.m. and 8 p.m., respectively, on Saturday, June 19.

INXS is teaming up with reality TV producer Mark Burnett to create Rock Star, a TV contest to find the band a replacement for their deceased singer Michael Hutchence. Hutchence died in 1997 (Though officially ruled a suicide, evidence suggests it may have been accidental), and the band has worked with a series of guest vocalists for their limited concert schedule since then.

American Idol this ain't, for a variety of reasons. The most basic is that the viewing audience won't have complete control over who wins. Secondly, they aren't just rating the contestants as singers; the judges, including the band members themselves and "leading entertainment industry specialist," will also evaluate them on songwriting, image and production.

But it also hints at the difference between a great singer and a great frontman. The original British incarnation of American Idol is called Pop Idol, and in England there is a distinction between pop stars and rock stars. Pop stars have pretty voices (or these days, software to make their voices pretty). Rock stars don't have to have pretty voices; they have to have interesting voices coupled with charisma to spare, Rod Stewart being the most extreme example of this. Hutchence wasn't a great frontman because he had perfect pitch or could hold a high note for three minutes or whatever other histrionics qualify as talent when Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston are the only yardsticks. Hutchence built his reputation as part of a band and on the strength of their live shows. In concert, he had stage presence to burn, and it was part of an incredibly tight unit. The band went 20 years without a line-up change, and their taut funk-inflected rock is musically more interesting than the schmaltz pedaled by singers just showing off their vocal ranges. Even if the contest yields someone better than, say, Ian Astbury of the Cult filling in for Jim Morrison in a Doors revival, it's still questionable whether the band can ever find someone to mesh as well into their tight knit.

The winner will record an album with the band, their first since Hutchence's death, and "embark on a world tour of major concert arenas." The latter part of the "prize" is questionable since the band's popularity was waning even before they lost their frontman. They may still be an institution in their Australian homeland, but they'd be lucky to sell out a theater tour of the U.S. at this point.

The full details are on the band's web site in the news section. For those with a hankering to audition, "casting" (a disturbingly TV-oriented term, considering the intended outcome) won't begin until later this year.

Concert Recommendation: David Byrne with Poi Dog Pondering, Navy Pier Skyline Stage, June 17 and 21

David Byrne played Chicago on September 14, 2001. Let me rephrase this to highlight its significance: David Byrne played Chicago three days after 9/11 (a date so indelible it requires no year.) He and his large backing band boarded a bus to make sure the show happened, a ray of hope shining all the way from New York. PJ Harvey had played the same venue the night before and definitely rocked harder, but Byrne was cooler. The whole band was musically tight, but they also had a lot of fun.

At one point, former Talking Head introduced a song merely by saying it was hugely inappropriate in light of recent tragic events. Murmurs quickly went through the crowd: take your pick: "Psycho Killer, " "Burning Down the House" or "Life During Wartime." Who knew so many Talking Heads songs could suddenly take on such import based on a single incident? For what it's worth, "Life" was the inappropriate song he had in mind.

That Poi Dog Pondering are opening is particularly appropriate. Although they've never aped the Talking Heads' sound, they have drawn percussion inspiration from the same sources.

David Byrne plays the Navy Pier Skyline Stage with Poi Dog Pondering at 7:30 p.m. on Thursday, June 17 and Monday, June 21.

Concert Recommendation: Franz Ferdinand, Metro, Saturday, June 12

We clearly live in the age of cynicism. Proof: the backlash against Franz Ferdinand is greater than their actual popularity. In the past few weeks, I've read comments describing the '80s-sounding Scottish band as overhyped and overrated, particularly in regard to even lesser-known bands. But it's not like Franz Ferdinand are ubiquitous or overexposed. I've probably heard more by Modest Mouse on WLUW lately, and no one seems to mind them. Yes, they've sold out tonight's show at the Metro, but that is hardly conquering the New World.

Franz Ferdinand play the Metro, 3730 N. Clark, Chicago, 773.549.0203, at 6:30 p.m. tonight, Saturday, June 12 with Sons & Daughters.

Concert Recommendation: DKT/MC5 Reunion, Metro, Friday June 11

Like the Stooges, fellow Detroit denizens the MC5 were out of step with the whole peace 'n' love hippie vibe of the late '60s; their rallying cry was, "Kick out the jams, motherfuckers!" They never got very famous, but they have been quite influential. (One of my friends has dismissed the Mooney Suzuki for aping the MC5 too closely.) Greg Kot wrote about the band's legacy, the reunion and the controversy among the surviving members and the families of the deceased in the Tribune. But what's really strange is the roster of guest vocalists: Mudhoney's Mark Arm is a great fit; Mudhoney have clearly drawn inspiration from the garage rock of MC5 and their ilk, and Arm has a wonderfully raspy wail. Marshall Crenshaw's inclusion is a bit of a head-scratcher; he's a talented singer/songwriter, but his milieu is more pop than punk. But Evan Dando, the washed-up former alt-rock pin-up boy, is totally out of league.

The DKT/MC5 reunion is at the Metro, 3730 N. Clark, Chicago, at 11:30 p.m. on Friday, June 11.

Concert Recommendation: Little Steven's Underground Garage Battle of the Bands, June 8-10, Double Door

The great thing about garage rock is that it's easy to be pretty good even if its hard to be truly great. In other words, a battle of garage rock bands is a guaranteed good evening of entertainment, unlike, say, a battle of beginning violin students. And the bands playing this three-night contest put on by Little Steven's Underground Garage (the best nationally syndicated radio sow you'll find on any commercial station) have already gone through an initial screening process to make it this far. Plus, it's dirt cheap, just $5 a night.

As for great garage rock bands, even if the competitors suck, there's still the chance to see special guests the Cynics on Wednesday night and the Fleshtones on Thursday.

Little Steven's Underground Garage Battle of the Bands is at the Double Door, 1572 N. Milwaukee, Chicago, IL, 773.489.3160 on Tuesday, June 8 to Thursday, June 10 at 9 p.m. each night.

Huzzah, huzzah! Creed have broken up. It's the season for such changes, with Phish announcing last week that they're calling it quits. I've never been into the whole jam band thing, but I respect Phish for both being so musically inventive with their live shows and not taking themselves too seriously in the process, two points of praise I would never give to Creed.

The other three guys in Creed are leaving behind the sanctimonious Scott Stapp to form a band with a new singer. If Stapp is looking for another gig, the rest of Stone Temple Pilots, another derivative grunge band, may be seeking someone new now that revolving door rehabber Scott Weiland is fronting Velvet Revolver.

Before my son was born, I got advice from several sources to bring along CDs of soothing music to listen to during labor, with specific suggestions like classical harp music. My husband and I had far more fun coming up with a list of inappropriate songs to play. We didn't think of enough to fill a mix CD, but we did get some good ideas:

"Baby's On Fire" - Brian Eno
"I Want My Baby . . . Dead?" - New Bomb Turks
"Drinking for Two" - Mudhoney
"Hung Up and Hanging Out to Dry" (specifically for the lines "Let's keep the afterbirth/and throw the kid away) - Julian Cope

I did bring my own take on soothing music, artists like Stereolab and Tom Waits. When the going got really tough, Night Song by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan effectively alleviated some of the stress.

Gwyneth Paltrow and Coldplay's Chris Martin just had a daughter that they've named Apple. If you're going to name your baby after a vanity record label, there really are much better choices than the Beatles' imprint. Just for starters, there's 50 Skidillion Watts, the label founded by Penn Jillette of Penn & Teller fame, and Smell Like, which Sonic Youth drummer Steve Shelley runs.

Concert Review: Fountains of Wayne, Rockin' de Mayo Fest, Chicago, Saturday, May 8

I never thought I'd say this for a band I like as much as Fountains of Wayne, but would you please go home already? This was their third trip to Chicago in 10 months, and the time on the road is really showing on Chris Collingwood. The band still sounded great, but the normally energetic, funny singer/guitarist really looked tired and barely had anything to say between songs. I'm thrilled that they've received a fair amount of success and can understand their continued touring in hopes of expanding their audience, but I hope it doesn't destroy them physically and mentally. So take some time off. Recuperate and recharge, then continue with your plans to take over the world.

Movie Review: Mayor of the Sunset Strip

His name carries much more cache in L.A. than elsewhere in the country, but Rodney Bingenheimer has been an important taste-maker in American music, providing the initial exposure that helped launch many careers. He introduced British glam to Los Angeles with his English Disco, a tiny but trendy club on the Sunset Strip. He then moved to KROQ, one of the country's biggest radio stations, where he was known as Rodney on the ROQ and continued to break new artists. The documentary Mayor of the Sunset Strip explores the many facets of his life: his obsession with famous people, his relation with his parents, how his radio show created careers, the decline of his own career in an increasingly profit-driven radio market, how his sexual conquests exceeded Robert Plant's in their heyday.

The movie boast lots of cameos. Musicians such as David Bowie and Gwen Stefani, who he helped break in America, cozy up to him. Ray Manzarek talks about how he fit into the L.A. scene, but I kept thinking of the Onion headline, something like "Ray Manzarek Goes a Whole 10 Minutes Without Discussing the Doors." Kim Fowley extols his own genius, a frequent habit of his since others either don't think he's a genius or don't think he's worth extolling. Fortunately, former Runaway/protégé Cherie Currie offers up a different viewpoint on Fowley than his own elevated one.

The movie had playe briefly at the Music Box; it now looks like the only way to catch it in Chicago is to wait for the DVD.

Concert Recommendation: Fountains of Wayne, Rockin' de Mayo, Saturday, May 8

The sun still shine in the summertime
I'll be yours if you'll be mine
I tried to change but I changed my mind
I guess I'll have another glass of Mexican wine

The above chorus, from the song "Mexican Wine," is the most likely explanation for why New Jersey's Fountains of Wayne is playing a Cinco de Mayo festival. Well, that and they're such a damn fine band. As I've expounded many times previously, they craft songs with insanely catchy hooks and smart lyrics. It's unfortunate that it looks like "Stacy's Mom" will leave them as one-hit wonders when not just Welcome Interstate Managers but also their previous albums are chock full of should-have-been hits. They also have the charisma and sense of humor to put on a great show, unlike the rather wooden Strokes (Sorry, guys, but good songs and a cool wardrobe are not enough to make a great concert.)

Fountains of Wayne play Rockin' De Mayo at Slow Down, Life's Too Short, Elston & Division, Chicago. Music runs from 4 to 10 p.m.; LP, Wheat and Howie Day are opening.

Concert Recommendation: 50 Foot Wave, Schuba's, Sunday, May 2

I was in Seattle two months ago and caught a show by Kristin Hersh's new band 50 Foot Wave. It was a surprise for two reasons. First, I didn't know the Rhode Islander had relocated to Seattle. But the bigger surprise was that Hersh was getting in touch with her inner Neil Young, or at least her inner J Mascis. It had never been obvious from the Throwing Muses or her solo work that she had an inner J Mascis to get in touch with. But it worked. For those accustomed to her quiet acoustic solo shows with witty between-song banter (my personal favorite being the anecdote about her son involving the phrase "big fat dog butt"), put aside your expectations and grab some earplugs.

50 Foot Wave play with the Pieces at Schuba's, 3159 N. Southport, Chicago, 773.525.2508 at 9 p.m. on Sunday, May 2.

Concert Recommendation: Radio 4, The Bottom Lounge, Thursday, April 29

If, like me, you were disappointed that Radio 4 was cut as an opening act for Ted Leo/Pharmacists last month, here's your chance to catch them. Think Gang of Four with more complex percussion and more vague politics. But definitely something you can shake your butt for.

Radio 4 play with the Fever at the Bottom Lounge, 3206 N. Wilton, Chicago, 773.975.0505 at 8 p.m. on Thursday, April 29

Concert Review:  The Strokes, The Aragon Ballroom, April 23

The Strokes may have been tagged as part of the garage rock revival, but the Strokes are definitely not a garage band. For one thing, their most obvious influences are from the wrong era, but mainly because great garage bands have front men teetering on the brink of sanity, but the Strokes are entirely sane. Yes, they have great songs and they give a really tight live performance, they are stylishly dressed and cool, but these are not the elements that create an enthralling concert. I was glad that health problems demanded that I take a seat without a decent view of the stage at their show rather than, say, the Mooney Suzuki, because I wasn't missing much by not being able to see them.

Which isn't to say they were bad. The set had a great pace, they played a credible cover of the Clash's "Clampdown" and they didn't milk their presence with an encore. They just weren't stellar.

Concert Recommendation: The Fall, Metro, Saturday, April 24

One of my favorite funny-because-it's-true music industry jokes is that the Fall can't sell any records because anyone who might buy one is already on a record company mailing list. On one hand, I can understand why they've never had more than a cult following. Mark E. Smith's dentist drill-like voice is one the greatest, most distinctive in rock but clearly an acquired taste. Yes, they've been very influential, but the bands that show their influence are ones like the Wedding Present and Sonic Youth, not exactly household names throughout America. And their live shows are erratic, not unlike the Replacements back in their drunken heyday: on a bad night, they can be terrible, but on a good night, they are the greatest live band in the world at that moment. When they hit their groove, what a groove they've got. Yes, they sing about shoulder pads and cabs and telephones, but few bands can match the thrilling sing-along of "Appreciated!" on "New Big Prinz."

The Fall play with Shesus and the Ponys at the Metro 3730 N. Clark, Chicago, 773.549.0203, on Saturday, April 24 at 11:30 p.m.

Concert Recommendation: Jurassic 5, House of Blues Chicago, Sunday, April 18

The House of Blues has several shortcomings, the most glaring being the manufactured atmosphere. It's rather like the "shabby chic" furniture for which one pays a premium for someone to distress new tables and chairs to make them look old. While the Empty Bottle and the Metro look lived-in, the House of Blues is just some designer's idea of what a cool venue should look like. On the other hand, it is convenient to public transportation, it has good sight lines and, most importantly, it has quite clean acoustics. Which makes it the ideal venue for Jurassic 5. With a lesser sound system, you might miss their expert rhymes like "etiquette" and "predicate."

Jurassic 5 play Scratchback at the House of Blues, 329 N. Dearborn, Chicago, IL, 312.923.2000 at 6:30 p.m., Sunday, April 18.

During an long shopping trip to Tower Records today, I was subjected to Damita Jo, the new Janet Jackson CD. It was like being forced to eat an entire package of rice cakes: there was almost no substance but it just went on forever.

Not My '80s

I recently attended a '80s party. One of the hosts, a DJ, put particular effort into the soundtrack for the event. As the evening wore on and we got into the later part of the decade, I was reminded of the extent to which my musical tastes veered away from the mainstream as the '80s progressed. Sure, I loved the new wave pop that was big around the time of MTV's launch when I was in high school, but especially as I got to college, I became less willing to blindly accept whatever was on commercial radio. My '80s was never about Madonna or hair metal; that was what I ignored or outright condemned. My taste tended towards the British and goth, but it wasn't even the most popular British music. When living in London in the summer of 1988, my flatmates and I would watch Top of the Pops, a weekly show featuring top-selling artists lip-synching to their hits, mainly to ridicule what the general public was lapping up, appearances by the likes of Siouxsie & the Banshees notwithstanding.

After the party, I listened to party mix tape I made in the spring of 1988. The music still thrilled me. Among the artists: Echo & the Bunnymen, Julian Cope, New Order, INXS, the Hoodoo Gurus, the Replacements, the Dead Milkmen, a Pete Townshend solo track, Depeche Mode, the Cure, Iggy Pop, M/A/R/R/S. Then I went a brief late '80s binge, listening to albums by the Jesus & Mary Chain, That Petrol Emotion and Big Audio Dynamite. Some of those musicians have made a lasting impact, some faded into obscurity, especially in the U.S., but it still sounded fantastic. Can the same be said for Bon Jovi? No, they were horrific back then and don't even cut it as irony now.

Bono will be the commencement speaker at my alma mater, the University of Pennsylvania. While there are few musicians with a more impressive  record of social activism, I am torn between thinking that this is really cool and that this is pandering. I'm also a little torn because, when U2 played JFK Stadium in Philly my senior year at Penn, he made some disparaging comments about our campus.

Concert Recommendation: Ted Leo/Pharmacists, Logan Square Auditorium, Tuesday, March 23

Admittedly, this was a more enticing show when Radio 4 was scheduled as an opening act, but Ted Leo is a worthy draw in his own right. For starters, "Ballad of a Sin Eater" is the catchiest song about ignorance of world affairs ever written (rather like Elvis Costello's "Veronica" being the catchiest song about senility, in part because there's not much competition). "Sin Eater" isn't completely representative of Leo's much-lauded latest album Hearts of Oak, but there's a pleasant Joe Jackson-esque quality to it. And a few years back, the band outshone Dismemberment Plan when opening for them at the Metro. This show is presented by the Empty Bottle, so more information is at their web site.

Ted Leo/Pharmacist play with Perfect Panther and Electrelane at the Logan Square Auditorium, 2539 N. Kedzie, Chicago, 773.276.3600, at 8:30 p.m. on Tuesday, March 24.

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony airs in about half an hour on VH-1 (and reairs another 2 hours after that, but probably not for the last time). It's not as exciting a crop of inductees as the last couple years. In other words, there probably won't be any speeches as good as Tom Morello's allusion to Steinbeck in lauding the Clash or Anthony Kiedis's observation that when he started listening the Talking Heads, "I wanted to have sex with a lot of librarians."

But there is still Prince, the only shoo-in among this year's batch. A guitar virtuoso who has always remembered that a great guitar solo doesn't matter if the song as a whole doesn't make you want to shake your butt. He created the funkiest music of the '80s. His appeal crossed racial barriers, especially since the very concept of a black rock and roll guitarist had largely died with Jimi Hendrix.

Most of all, Prince rules because it's all about the music with him. He kept his acceptance speech at the ceremony short in favor of playing; he reportedly skipped the ceremony's after-party to go play a set at another club. The backstage reports from his appearance at the Grammys last month was that he put in long hours of rehearsal, a tactic that clearly paid off. The most persistent rumor about Prince isn't some strange scandal in his personal life but that he has thousands of songs stockpiled at Paisley Park, that the guy writes and records far faster than the industry knows how to get the material out to the public. Unlike Madonna, who probably timed her pregnancies to maximize the publicity synergy with her commercial projects, he really does keep his private live private, not merely claiming to do so while exploiting it at opportune times. While he's kept his love life quiet, it appears that his way of proclaiming his ardor for a woman is to write her a hit single. By reverting to his given name from the unpronounceable symbol, he's put the focus back on his talent and maybe managed to get the word out about why his having done so was an act of protest against his stifling record label (see above about stockpiled recordings.) And, at least according to the proclamation of one of my friends in 1984, he made one of the greatest movies ever with Purple Rain; she may have changed her mind since then, and I wasn't buying the argument, but Purple Rain is undoubtedly recorded one of the greatest movie soundtracks ever.

Concert review: Elvis Costello & Steve Nieve, Oriental Theatre, March 16

Elvis Costello's new album North clearly reflects his divorce from Cait O'Riordan and marriage to Diana Krall; it was impossible to listen to "Alibi" on 2002's When I Was Cruel without wondering if his previous marriage was dissolving. Since North is a collection of orchestral ballads, it made sense for him to go with more stripped-down arrangements for its supporting tour. For most of the songs, he played an acoustic guitar or nothing at all while Steve Nieve joined him on grand piano. The setting showed off his skill as a songwriter, the unique timbre of his voice and his ability to show off his songs without mimicking the recorded versions of them. For example, he took advantage of the Oriental Theatre's superior acoustics by ending "This House Is Empty Now" by walking away from the microphone a singing unamplified.

Not that it was an entirely hushed evening. Particularly for his some of his older songs and others off the "loud" When I Was Cruel, he hauled out a hollow body Gibson, noting that the other Elvis used the same model for his '68 comeback special, although Costello used distortion pedals that Presley didn't. The audience provided hand clapping as percussion for "Pump It Up."

The audience did include one heckler, who started out by yelling, "You fag!" and only getting worse from there. As Elvis's one-time TV costar Lisa Simpson pondered, "Why would they come to our concert just to boo us?" Especially when tickets started at around $50. Elvis challenged him from the stage, but security escorted the buffoon out. As for other interaction with the audience, he was perhaps too humble to respond to the woman loudly proclaiming her love for him, but he did suggest to the person whose cell rang that they should have their ring tone set to one of his songs to guarantee hearing something good.

He ended the 2 1/2 hour show with some new songs, which he claimed were from his next album South; it wasn't clear if he was being facetious about the title. But he did acknowledge preferring the more intimate setting to last summer's Taste of Chicago appearance, expressing gratitude to not be surrounded by hot dogs and bees.

I know that the big music news tonight is the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductions, but I only just found out that Dave Blood of the Dead Milkmen committed suicide. The obituary from the Philadelphia Inquirer includes quotes from Howard Kramer, curator at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, formerly of the Milkmen's management firm and a really friendly, outgoing guy.

I think it was the summer of '85 when I got to meet Dave. Big Lizard in My Back Yard was a hit on college radio, which I had just discovered. My father's law firm, where I was working for the summer, was handling some copyright matters for the band. I was probably the only employee who was a fan, let alone had even heard of them. So I was awestruck to get introduced to the bass player during a meeting. Our brief conversation wasn't nearly as memorable as merely having the opportunity.

The Milkmen were indirect disciples of the Ramones. What they lacked in technical proficiency, they made up for in spirit. They rode the fine line between stupid and clever; although some would accuse them of being sophomoric, there was clearly a lot of intellegence behind their humor. And the band toured and played constantly. In the late '80s, they played their home town of Philly several times a year, and I rarely missed them. At one show, I was mashed upfront at the Chestnut Cabaret, the lip of the stage driving into my hips with every surge of the audience. At the time, I thought I might be destroying my ability to ever bear children, but I didn't care because I was having too much fun. I wish Dave could have maintained that sense of fun for himself instead of taking his life.

Concert Recommendation: Elvis Costello and Steve Nieve, Oriental Theatre, Tuesday, March 16

As I mentioned in my review of Elvis's show at the Taste of Chicago, as happy as I was to witness his free show attracting a broader demographic than would pay to see him, I missed a more concentrated affair. I prefer to be packed in closer who are there specifically to see him, rather than scattered across the lawn where his performance, for many, is merely incidental to drinking beer. Here's your chance to see one of our greatest songsmiths ply his wares in a more intimate setting than Grant Park. He is joined by Attraction/Distraction keyboardist Steve Nieve.

Elvis Costello and Steve Nieve play the Oriental Theatre, 24 W. Randolph St., Chicago at 8:00 p.m. on Tuesday, March 16. Tickets purchased for the postponed March 1 show will be honored.

Concert Review:  The Church, House of Blues Chicago, March 12

Marty Willson-Piper's looks may be starting to fade, but his status as underappreciated guitar god only grows. Your stereotypical guitar god is way too cerebral about his craft (and it is a wanky male trait), grimacing through the chords to show just how hard he's working to wrest those sounds from his instrument. But Marty's face conveyed only ecstasy, absolute joy in playing. When he hit his extended intro to "Tantalized," all the pain I'd been experiencing from too much time on my feet magically disappeared. His playing was transporting him to another reality, and he taking the audience as passengers along with him. As they wrapped up their performance and he broke yet another string, the roadies exchanged exasperated yet amused looks; clearly Marty breaks strings faster than they can replace them.

Oh, yeah, the rest of the band was good, too.

Concert Recommendation:  The Church, House of Blues, Friday, March 12

How great a live band are the Church? Great enough to make me reconsider my career plans. In October, 1998, I was fed up with the music industry. My love of music was embittered by trying to make a living with it, specifically in seeing too many stupid people success. So I was embarking on a new career by going to library school. But in the middle of an intensive weekend of grad school classes, I saw the Church. I'd seen them several times previously but not in about eight years. To use a bad pun, it was a religious experience, utterly transformative. I altered my job plans and became determined to incorporate music into my career in librarianship, which I have done successfully.

A year later, they were back in Chicago. Guitarist Marty Willson-Piper was once again absolutely on fire, but the band's performance as a whole didn't coalesce. A few days later, lead singer/bass player Steve Kilbey was busted in New York for buying heroin. Draw your own conclusions.

Best known for their 1988 hit "Under the Milky Way," that is hardly their best song or even the best song on Starfish, the album it came from. I'd have to go with "Reptile," which couples an original analogy with a sharper guitar lead. To resurrect one of my own better analogies, I'll copy what I wrote about the band in B-Side Magazine in 1990:

Gold Afternoon Fix is a walk across a velvet blanket spread over a bed of rounded stones. The surface is lush and inviting, but conceals a convoluted terrain underneath, unexpected but never too jagged. Dense and slightly impenetrable, the Church's music stands up to or requires repeated listening. No "I'm in love with her and I feel fine" simplicities here. Like mental New Year's Eve confetti, it soars immediately and ultimately finds its way into unlikely nooks in the mind; months later, those bits of pastel paper caught in one's shoe or pocket recall that blurry, forgotten celebration.

The Church play Sea Ray at the House of Blues, 329 N. Dearborn, Chicago, 312.923.2000 at 9 p.m. on Friday, March 12.

Concert Recommendation: Robert Randolph and the Family Band, Aragon Ballroom, Thursday, February 26

Talk about truth in advertising: Robert Randolph and Family Band's album Unclassified is on display in the Rock/Pop, Blues and Gospel sections at Tower Records.  If their full live show, admittedly only an opening slot for O.A.R., is anywhere near as smoking as their performance on the Grammy's, it'll be a great night of funk/jam band/blues/gospel/pedal steel music.

Robert Randolph and the Family Band play with O.A.R. and Toothpick at the Aragon Ballroom, 1106 W. Lawrence Ave., Chicago, 773-561-9500 at 6 p.m. on Thursday, February 26.

An open letter to Henry Rollins:

In your spoken word performance at Chicago's Congress Theatre on February 20, you lamented your inability to find a well-read woman in Los Angeles. I have a simple solution: get yourself to Seattle this week. The city will be overrun with well-read women as it hosts the Public Library Association national conference. I can't make promises on how many will be single and within your preferred demographic since it is an aging profession, but it is a group of thousands that will be dominated by well-read females.

You will also be hard-pressed to find anyone with Nickelback in her CD player. I'll go out on a limb and guess that most attendees will have never heard of the Canadian band featuring the guy with the tragic hair and the three other guys. And I'd like to think that those librarians who have heard Nickelback would agree that you were justified in rejecting a date for liking them.

You would probably find a lot of sympathy in your views on patriotism, that is doesn't mean blindly accepting the policies of the current regime. For librarians, this mean challenging the Patriot Act's potential for civil liberties abuses. But your definition is much catchier: the land of the free, the home of the brave, the country that gave the world the Ramones and P-Funk. Pick your favorite motto for getting people to vote: "Hey, Ho, Let's Go!" or "Shit, God Damn, Get off Your Ass and Jam!"

I'm holding off my essay extolling Prince's virtues until the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony. Until then, here's a piece on why we need him now, specifically because the music world has a split between serious artists and sexy musicians, that the two factions are mutually exclusive. Except for Prince.

Some random thoughts on the Grammys, both the awards themselves and telecast:

Funk ruled the night, starting with Prince's medley that reestablished his preeminence as both songwriter and performer, aided by Beyonce making like Tina Turner. The mid-evening funk jam showed off older and newer generations of funksters, even if Robert Randolph and the Family band's music sounds like it predates Earth, Wind & Fire's or George Clinton's. While most of the musical pairings looked designed to just showcase musicians from less mass media-friendly genres (Foo Fighters and Chick Corea - why?) the inspired teaming of Andre 3000 with a marching band meant that the bassline for "Hey Ya!" was played on sousaphone.

Samuel L. Jackson was also the only non-musician who justified his inclusion as a presenter. As with his appearance on other award shows, he is one of the few actors who clearly memorizes his speeches and imbues them with feeling. Based on his joining in the P-Funk jam, this wasn't just acting; he was clearly excited to be part of the music. He may have a new movie coming out, but he was the only actor who didn't look like he was just there to plug his latest project.

Why don't they create a category Best Late-Career Album by an Artist We Ignored in Their Creative and/or Commercial Heyday so that they can clear out dreck like the Eagles and leave room for artists who are currently doing quality work in the "real" categories.

The Beatles tribute was like last year's to Joe Strummer: musicians chosen because there were there already as nominees, not for any musical connection to the honoree. About all Dave Matthews has in common with the Beatles is that he probably smokes pot. About all Sting has in common with the Beatles is that, like Paul McCartney, he did his best work in a band with creative tension, and his solo work has been boring in comparison. Fortunately, the Warren Zevon tribute was done by people who worked with him and admired his music throughout his career.

And I'm disappointed that Fountains of Wayne was shut out, but perhaps they are destined to be forever on the verge of superstardom.

The rumors I reported on September 22, 2003 are true. The Pixies are reuniting, with a tour starting in April, specific dates yet to be announced. One hopes that the time apart and some rehearsals will make them as good a live band as they were on record.

Update on yesterday's post: Elvis' web site shows that his Chicago concert has been rescheduled to March 16, listed in the Appearances section ("Appearances" refers to public performances, not his "Oh no, my image!" exclamation when Homer Simpson destroyed his glasses at Rock 'N' Roll Fantasy Camp.)

Elvis Costello's concert in Chicago has been postponed, rescheduled from March 1 to March 16, since he will be attending the Academy Awards in support of his nomination for  "Scarlet Tide," the song he cowrote with T Bone Burnett for Cold Mountain. The news does not appear to have otherwise hit the web yet, but the folks from TicketMaster actually phoned people who bought tickets.