Concert Recommendation: Hoodoo Gurus, The Abbey Pub, Sunday, March 25

When discussing the Greenhornes recently with another garage rock aficienado, I complained that when I saw them live, it just wasn't happening. She defended them as good in the studio but awkward in front of an audience. I wasn't buying it. In my book, the definition of a garage band includes a vibrancy in concert that's hard to capture in recording. Australia's Hoodoo Gurus epitomize that, just one hell of a fun live band with catchy pop hooks, tremendous energy and a sense of humor. For example, at one show they offered a free bottle of champagne, given to the band by their record company, to the first audience member to identify the theme in that night's set list; they were performing the songs in alphabetical order. They haven't toured the U.S. in over a decade, so it'll be a welcome return.

The Hoodoo Gurus play the Abbey Pub, 3420 W. Grace, Chicago, 773-478-4408 at 9 p.m. on Sunday, March 25.

Since I've had the Police on the brain, I finally got around to reading Ian Copeland's autobiography, Wild Thing: The Backstage, On the Road, In the Studio, Off the Charts. Ian, one of Stewart's two older brothers, was booking agent to the Police and many other bands of the punk/new wave revolution. He found success by specializing in fresh young bands, carving out a club circuit to help them find an audience and touring them on shoestring budgets so they wouldn't lose money in the process. He intentionally avoided old school rock, both aesthetically and as an ethical business decision to not raid existing agencies' rosters. Through his own hard work and that of the artists he worked with, they found a great deal of success.

Even before finding his way in the world as a booking agent, he led a fascinating life. He grew up mostly in Cairo and Beirut, the son of a CIA agent stationed there. Irresponsible and rebellious as a teenager, he traipsed back and forth across Europe and scrounged an existence in London rather than submit to his parents' will, eventually enlisting in the U.S. and heading to the Vietnam War. He stumbled into tour management and booking, where he finally found his niche. He also sat at an unlikely cusp in the Baby Boom. An acknowledged hippie who embraced hippie bands, he still didn't reject punk. He recognized that while the snotty punks lacked the chops of his favorite long-haired artists, they had a freshness missing from the the stagnating older music and musicians.

Copeland was not a great writer but definitely an adequate one to tell his unusual life story, including having good sense of choice anecdotes to include, particularly one about being harangued by a veteran agent about why he'll never succeed, the old-timer nodding off repeatedly mid-sentence from heroin before finally going face down into a dish of creamed spinach. The book gets off to a sluggish start, with a chapter that goes on too long into too much detail about his crazy globetrotting lifestyle working and socializing with rock stars; fortunately it is not characteristic of the rest of the book. He is gentlemanly, revealing little of his doomed marriage and offering no ill words about his ex-wife, refraining to name the member of the Go-Go's who failed to seduce him despite her persistence and adding in a footnote that the heroin-addled agent eventually cleaned up and found continued success in the music business. Although he says so explicitly, he also shows repeatedly his keys to success: the road to fame must be trod repeated back and forth across the U.S. and includes stops at roach-infested hotels, stay within your financial means, drugs will greatly hinder one's career and don't be a scumbag. In an industry known for weasels, such advice is refreshing.

Missed Obituaries

Twice in recent weeks I've stumbled upon news of deaths in the music world well after the fact.

I only learned of Ian Copeland's death from the credits for Everyone Stares: The Police Inside Out. Ian, one of Stewart's brothers, was the band's manager and booking agent. He served in a similar capacity to a bunch of other bands that helped define 1980s. He died last May. I'm still amused by the names of the outfits of the Copeland brothers, a response to their father's serving in the CIA. Ian's agency was FBI. Miles' record label was IRS. Stewart is in the Police. I was preoccupied with caring for a newborn at the time of Ian's death, but it didn't make much news beyond the music world.

Chalk it up to geography that I missed the news that Aldo Jones died of leukemia in 2001 at age 41. Jones was a member of the Ben Vaughn Combo and worked with many other Philly musicians in the late 80s and early 90s when I was seeing a lot of local Philly acts. On one of my first dates with an old boyfriend, grabbing a bite at Silk City at the end of the night, Aldo walked in. That both of us considered this a celebrity sighting sums up the foundation of that relationship. News of his passing didn't make it to Chicago, and I'm no longer connected to that scene for someone to have tipped me off.

It wasn't until I discovered allmusic and starting looking up my favorite bands that I learned that lots of my favorite music is considered part of the same genre and that it has a name: post-punk. I just thought of it as music I like.

I recently came upon an 80s post-punk archetype: Josef K. The first time I heard the band on the radio, I was confused. They sounded familiar without sounding familiar, in that I knew I'd never actually heard them before although their sound resembled lots that I'd heard before. There were glints of the angularity of the Fall, Gang of Four and early Echo & the Bunnymen, the jangly pop of the Woodentops and the revved-up jangly pop of early Wedding Present. That they had previously escaped my attention, apart from recognizing their name from the 1991 edition of the Trouser Press record guide, is not surprising considering that they only issued one proper album, The Only Fun in Town, before breaking up, and that album never had a U.S. release. Their new compilation, Entomology, rounds up 22 album tracks and singles for a worthy introduction to American ears.

I had merely planned to review Everyone Stares: The Police Inside Out when much bigger news about the band broke: Holy crap! They're getting back together. The band announced that they will play at the Grammy Awards on February 11, and a full tour is rumored.

Now back to that movie review. Drummer Stewart Copeland bought a Super 8 movie camera early in his career with the band and managed to document them in their time together, from their early struggles to massive fame. Through wise editing of the 50 or so hours of footage on the road, in the studio, on the stage and pressed up against the fans, he gives a clear view of what it was like living through it all. His narration is insightful, making their eventual break-up a natural conclusion without placing blame. That said, Sting sometimes comes across as an obnoxious alpha male even when they're getting along just fine, and the film reaffirmed my belief that Copeland is not only one of the best drummers of all time, he's also one of the coolest.

One of the most annoying current cliches in journalism is making reference to AARP to say that someone is old. For once, talking about aging and making reference to AARP isn't a cliche. In today's Chicago Tribune, Barbara Brotman catches up with former Buzzcocks bass player Steve Garvey to discuss the cultural meaning of the band's "Everybody's Happy Nowadays" being used in AARP ad campaign. The interview also goes beyond the usual "where are they now" piece since they delve into what aging has been like for Garvey, now a carpenter with a kid in college.

In recent years, Iggy Pop's backing bands have been a lot like the Chicago Cubs. The long-standing complaint about the Cubs is that the owners won't bother investing money in the team itself because they know that Wrigley Field is the real draw for the fans, not how well the team plays. Likewise, Iggy's backing band is usually merely adequate because no one comes to an Iggy show for anything but the man himself, so he has no incentive to hire spectacular musicians.

That is changing. After a handful of tracks together on Iggy's last album, 2003's Skull Ring, and a handful of shows, Iggy and the surviving Stooges are reuniting for a full album and tour. The Weirdness, due out March 20, was recorded by Steve Albini and features ex-Minuteman Mike Watt taking over for the deceased Dave Alexander on bass. They plan to tour, including a stop at the South by Southwest Music Festival in March.

Movie Review: loudQUIETloud: A Film About the Pixies

I'm a sucker for a well-done documentary about a band I like, and loudQUIETloud: A Film About the Pixies fills the bill. It displays the greatness of the music that I already loved. It tells me more about the personalities than I knew previously. Kim Deal is the most gracious with the fans, perhaps because, as a female musician, she's still an anomaly and therefore a role model to teenage girls. Dave Lovering is sad, in several meanings of the word, his career as a magician looking disturbingly similar to Gob Bluth's on Arrested Development. Joey Santiago is the most well-adjusted of the bunch, a committed family man who is torn about touring keeping him away from his growing brood at home. Kim's twin sister Kelley, brought along by Kim for moral support, is a fun, blunt addition, not merely a hanger-on.

The scenes where Black Francis (sorry, I just can't quite think of him as Charles Thompson or Frank Black) gets interviewed, resurrected my range of emotions about my days of doing them. On one hand, I recalled why I enjoyed interviewing him several times, especially when he offered his suggestion that if the band were to start recording again, they should really start from scratch with a new name like Vomit Squad. On the other hand, the footage of his phone interviews showed him just as disengaged as I suspected some of my telephone interview subjects were. During the first phoner, he's fiddling with an eyeglass case while talking. During the second, he's lying on his hotel bed in just his underwear, which caused a collective shudder by the audience at the Music Box.

The concert footage proved insightful, too. It reconfirmed my belief that, as wonderfully original as the Pixies' music is, the band was always short on charismatic stage presence, which may have limited their popularity as much as an inherent weirdness to their sound. But it also showcased guitarist Joey as an underrated talent. As singers and songwriters Black Francis and Kim always garnered more attention, but Joey's unique riffs are a large part of their distinctive sound.

Concert Recommendation: "The Last Show on Earth" A Halloween Rock n Roll Circus!" featuring Sickidz, October 28, The Khyber

All good things must come to an end. Philly band Sickidz (who I'd written about previously) had reunited, but now they're calling it quits again with a Halloween-themed blowout at the Khyber. Among the special guests are Palmyra Delran and Barb Dwyer, who were members of Pink Slip Daddy with frontman Mick Cancer after the Sickidz's initial demise. Mick performs with the kind of charismatic abandon that suggests that the only limit to their fame was that they only toured regionally. This should be quite the party.

Sickidz play with special guests Palmyra Delran, Barb Dwyer and Joe Ankenbrand plus Jukebox Zeroes, King of Siam The Warm Jets at the Khyber, 56 S. Second St., Philadelphia, 215.238.5888 on Saturday, October 28 at 9:00 p.m.

I just learned about Pitchfork's Top 100 Albums of the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s. Two related observations struck me: the writers were trying to out-obscure the readers and each other with their picks, and, not surprisingly, almost none of it was written by women. Yes, folks, it's a High Fidelity movement. Male music geeks are just as competitive as their jock counterparts but on a different playing field.

I mentioned this to a colleague, who tipped me off to the news that High Fidelity, Nick Hornby's beloved novel about obsessive list-compilers who wield their obscure music knowledge as a weapon against the less informed at a record shop, has been made into a musical. And just to get my competitive geekiness out of the way, I'll point out that the NPR story got one of its facts wrong. They called the musical the third incarnation of the novel, the second being the film starring John Cusack. They were unaware of the play The Vinyl Shop that was produced by a small theater company in Chicago prior to the film. The actor who played Barry in stage production was one of the Championship Vinyl customers. (I take particular music geek pride in all things related to the book since I was an extra in the movie.)

Requiem for a Record Store in Three Movements

Tower Records didn't survive bankruptcy. On Friday, their assets were auctioned off. The stores are having liquidation sales.

The Music Fan

As I started to really get into music in my late teens, the record store at the mall just wasn't cutting it. My tastes were turning too obscure for what could be sold in storefront between suburban department stores. Back before you could buy anything on Amazon, Tower Records was record-buying mecca. They had everything cool. They had everything old. They were open until midnight, so I could pick up the new Nine Inch Nails on my way to Dobbs or after a show at the TLA further down South Street in Philly. Going there could be an event unto itself, a date spent browsing for new CDs.

What made Tower different from other chain stores wasn't just their depth of inventory but the depth of knowledge by their staff. Not only did they know and care about music, they looked like they knew and cared about music, unlike the tools at the mall stores who had to wear ties and red vests and looked like they could just as easily been selling smoked cheese logs or personalized golf towels. Members of many bands passed through their ranks of employment. When I suggested to an editor of Pulse, their in-house magazine, that they do a story of former employees who went on to greater fame as musicians, she said there were far too many, although I think Perry Farrell's name was mentioned.

Tower indirectly launched my writing career. While scouting for reading matter for a long plane ride, I hit their magazine section and stumbled upon B-Side. Unlike Rolling Stone, which I was finding increasingly exasperating, it covered nothing but music. It covered the music I was listening to such as Echo and the Bunnymen rather than Huey Lewis and the News. I was shocked to read the masthead and discover it was published locally. The record store at the mall had no interest in 'zines or local publications. B-Side was my first writing outlet.

My experience as a consumer is typical in explaining their demise. I don't have extensive time to browse record stores anymore. Amazon and Tower's own web site have taken away the thrill of the chase, so my only limitation is whether I'm willing to shell out for import prices, not whether I can merely locate an obscure album. I can download songs for instant gratification. No one has bought records at record stores in ages, but no one ever called them CD stores.

The Employee

Until I worked at RollingStone.com, being a sales clerk at Tower in London was my coolest job. Yes, the pay was meager but I was surrounded by music and by people who cared about music. We sneered at those picking up Samantha Fox's record (now mercifully forgotten by most). We lauded the parents visiting from America who could actually name bands their kids liked when asking records that couldn't be found back home. David Bowie shopped there. The place was constructed with a DJ booth, although the position was cut by my second summer on staff. My mother suggested that I should try to transfer to accounting so that I could make more money, but then I would have just been a bean counter in an anonymous office when I wanted to be swimming in rock and roll.

When I returned to Wharton after my first summer at Tower, my classmates were bragging about their summer internships, working 60-hour weeks on Wall Street. I kept quiet, but thought to myself that I probably learned more as part of the working class in a foreign city, supporting myself on 100 quid a week (slang for "pounds" being one of the facts I picked up).

The Librarian

While I no longer have time to spend hours browsing record stores for fun, it is now part of my job, doing collection development for a public library. Tower was our favorite place to do so. I still had the thrill of the chase but more importantly the benefit of serendipitous finds. For my boss shopping for jazz and classical, the staff's in-depth knowledge was an invaluable source of recommendations. There was also the entertaining distraction of things worth a laugh even if we wouldn't buy it for the library.

Unfortunately, Tower's inability to provide sufficiently-detailed invoicing proved the death knell for our library's financial relations with them. I miss the field trips to the store because it meant heading into Lincoln Park instead of the suburbs. I miss being mistaken for Tower staff, even when carrying a baby, because I was marking a list and hauling around dozens of CDs. I miss finding out about the new Cinerama album because they were playing it in the store, even if it was followed by the horrible new Janet Jackson album. I'm saddened that a large chain employing lots of people who are there because they care about music can't survive.

The timing of the auction was particularly depressing because I headed to a conference of music librarians on Friday preparing to give a talk on collection development, and recommending Tower for their selection, staff knowledge and useful web site was part of speech. The information was already outdated by the end of the day.

I can't help but notice how much "Nausea," off Beck's new album The Information, sounds like "Going South" by the Wolfgang Press. Considering how low the Wolfgang Press's profile is, I'll be amazed if any review comments on this. Hell, I'll be amazed if anyone besides me recognizes this.

I had intended to tout the Futureheads show at the Metro on October, but the band has canceled their October tour dates because guitarist Barry Hyde has tendonitis in his wrist.

Concert Recommendation: Little Steven's Rolling Rock and Roll Show, Durty Nellie's, September 13

Little Steven's Underground Garage is sponsoring a national tour. Need I say more than the line-up? (Also known as I don't have time to write more.) The Zombies, The Mooney Suzuki, The Woggles, Gore Gore Girls plus local act Catfish Haven. It all adds up to reason to head to the 'burbs on a weeknight.

Little Steven's Rolling Rock and Roll Show, Durty Nellies, 180 N. Smith Street, Palatine, (847)358-9150 at 9:00 p.m. on Wednesday, September 13.

Concert Recommendation: Mudhoney and the Cynics, Double Door, Friday, September 1

Double bills don't come much more promising than this one. Two bands of rip-snorting rock and roll who put on amazing shows, in a venue just the right size to see all the dripping sweat. Come worship at the altar of the electric guitar is all its fuzzed-up glory. Marvel at charismatic frontmen. Then cry for me because I can't go.

Mudhoney and the Cynics play the Double Door, 1572 N. Milwaukee, Chicago, 773.489.3160, at 9:00 p.m., Friday, September 1.

Concert Review: The Church and Rob Dickinson, Park West, August 18

Unlike the Church's October, 1998 show, this one lacked the power to change my life, but it was a fine entertainment. Most notably, the band was cheerfully relaxed and informal. Where Steve Kilbey is usually taciturn, this time he was positively loquacious. The members frequently switched instruments, resulting in jokes about Marty Willson-Piper's tendency to break drum sticks. They messed around with arrangements, adding flamenco, English folk and jazz flourishes to familiar favorites to refresh them. Kilbey gave a shout-out to the recently departed Grant McLennan when the band played "Providence," by Kilbey and McLennan's side project Jack Frost.

Rob Dickinson, former lead singer for the Catherine Wheel, has a solo album and is, only slightly facetiously, recasting himself as a sensitive singer songwriter. Armed with only an acoustic guitar, he struggled mightly with his desire to recreate the thunderous wall of sound his old outfit generated.

Back in high school, I had a few rules about the car stereo: No Ozzy Osbourne. No AC/DC. If they came on the radio, I'd change the station no matter how my passengers felt. I sucked it up and willingly went to an AC/DC concert years later as a favor to a friend; she wanted to photograph them for the magazine we both worked for, so I agreed to review the show, but that still didn't violate the car rule.

Now I've got a toddler son who is both crazy about trains and will request that I sing even the shortest snippet of a song again and again. When he was enthusing about a train when we were driving recently, I sang the one-line chorus of Ozzy's "Crazy Train," which I had to fake in parts, "We're going (mumble mumble) rails of the crazy train." He demanded, "Again," over and over. I obliged a few times since he is irresistibly charming. Then I tried switching to "I've Been Working on the Railroad," but he responded, "Crazy Train," and continued to request it. So I broke down and borrowed an Ozzy CD from the library so I could play him the whole song, which I've already done twice, much to his delight.

I've decided to use "Crazy Train" as the starting point for a mix CD for him, "Train Tracks." I'll fill it with lots of songs about trains, especially ones that are not obviously appropriate for a toddler, like "5:15" by the Who and Love & Rockets' "Kundalini Express." I'm just following the High Fidelity definition of true selfless love: when you make a mix of songs the other person will like instead of what you think they should like, although I'll still skip "Casey Jones" by the Grateful Dead.

It's a sad but oft-repeated tale in music business: an artist releases an album. Their label folds and all corporate support for marketing and promoting it evaporate. Such was the fate of World Party's impossibly wonderful Egyptology. I reviewed an advance copy and eventually stopped writing for the publication where I freelanced because the meddling editor challenged my perfect rating for it. But around the time that it was hitting the store shelves in 1997, the Enclave, the label behind the US release, was killed off by parent Chrysalis. The album was ignored and is now out of print. The good news in the UK was that Robbie Williams held the album in the same high esteem that I did, and his cover of "She's the One" was a big hit there, but Williams has never found an audience in the US.

Dumbing Up, the follow-up to Egyptology, is finally coming out in the US, a mere six years after its UK release. World Party mastermind Karl Wallinger is releasing it on his own label Seaview. More details about the project, the band's recent history and upcoming US tour dates are at http://www.worldparty.net.

Just how cool is my baby? The one-month-old was fussy last night, and the only thing that finally calmed him down was Fun House by the Stooges.

Here's one mystery solved. The current exhibit at the Chicago Cultural Center, "Nick Cave: Soundsuits," has nothing to do with the diminutive Australian singer who frequently dons a suit for his concerts. Same name, different person entirely.

Just how cool is the Librarian of Congress? Cool enough to name Sonic Youth's Daydream Nation to the National Recording Registry, one of 50 recordings each year that are deemed “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant.” Other worthy musical recordings were also added, but none as hip and unexpected as this. Or to put it another way, I suspect the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame will be much more reluctant to acknowledge Sonic Youth's cultural, historic and aesthetic significance within the narrower realm of rock music after they become eligible for induction in 2008.

The full press release is at:
http://www.loc.gov/today/pr/2006/06-083.html

My friend GirlDetective, also the mother of two young children (My new son was born March 27.) recently blogged "I Resemble That Remark," linking to an article from New York about recent trends among Gen-X parents:

When did it become normal for your average 35-year-old New Yorker to (a) walk around with an iPod plugged into his ears at all times, listening to the latest from Bloc Party . . . (f) decide that Sufjan Stevens is the perfect music to play for her 2-year-old, because, let’s face it, 2-year-olds have lousy taste in music, and we will not listen to the Wiggles in this house;

Not to get defensive, but I'm 40, not 35, and have Bloc Party on my iPod. As for the Sufjan Stevens observation, it's not my fault if neither my 22-month-old nor I liked the Sharon, Lois and Bram CD from the library but we both enjoyed the Clean Anthology. Here I was thinking that I'm probably the only mom my age with young kids who actually has an opinion on Deerhoof (They're wretched; their artiness exacerbates their basic musical incompetence.) when it turns out I'm just part of a larger demographic shift.

That said, I don't fit the full stereotype. I may be into music and into sharing my favorite music with my kids (It was so convenient to stop at Target and get NIN's With Teeth the day of release since I needed babyproofing supplies, too.) And I may be style-conscious, but I don't live in jeans or spend the kind of money they're talking about on clothes.

On the flip side, it is possible to find fun kids' music that isn't insipid. We've had to balance it with Ben Vaughn, P-Funk, Louis Armstrong and John Coltrane, but Wiggleworms Love You has been a huge hit with my toddler.

One of rock and roll's great achievements is helping to bridge the racial divide. Rock made it acceptable for white people to listen music created by African-Americans (or why the term "race record" is now outmoded) and for blacks and whites to socialize to hear music together. Which is why I kept shuddering watching the profile of Lyrnyrd Skynyrd on the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony. The Confederate flag was a ubiquitous presence at their performances; they might as well have hung a huge sign, "Black people not welcome."

I was never a fan of Black Sabbath, but at this point I must acknowledge that they have been hugely influential on an entire genre of music. The Sex Pistols recorded only one studio album, but its impact was utterly cataclysmic. I'm not convinced that Miles Davis is rock and roll, but he was one of the greatest innovators in music. Blondie has it all going in spades. But Lynard Skynyrd is a two-hit-wonder that did little to advance rock and roll, and they had a habit of endorsing racial segregation.

Concert Recommendation: Billy Bragg and Jill Sobule, Double Door, March 20

Especially after hearing that Jill Sobule is opening, I was crushed that I won't be able to attend this show. For those who have somehow missed him over the years, Billy Bragg is the world's leading punk-inspired romantic, socialist folkie. While his music and his shows are filled with leftist opinion, his humor, approachability, genuine concern for others and self-deprecation make him palatable whatever one's political leanings. I've never come across another artist who makes a habit of emerging after his shows just to chat with fans. Billy is touring in support of a new box set that collects much of his early work.

Casual observers might dismiss Jill Sobule as a one-hit novelty act for "I Kissed a Girl," but she is a wry songwriter with a gift for catchy melodies and an eye for unexpected subject matter. For example, her last album, Underdog Victorious, offered a sympathetic ode to '60s sex symbol Joey Heatherton.

Billy Bragg and Jill Sobule play the Double Door, 1572 N. Milwaukee, Chicago, 773.489.3160, at 8:00 p.m. on Monday, March 20.

Concert Review: The Wedding Present, Double Door, March 12

As David Gedge wrapped up the Wedding Present's set last night at the Double Door, he commented that it was past their bedtimes and probably the same for some of the audience, too. Amen. I was conflicted all evening, wanting them to play forever but also needing to get home and to sleep. And praying that I wouldn't go into labor in the middle of the concert because I'm incredibly pregnant, was enjoying the show so much and it would be a logistical nightmare to get home.

This wasn't only joke about the age of the band. He introduced, "Go Out And Get 'Em Boy!" their first single from 1985, by noting that the song was older than their current drummer. Judging by the drummer's (Charlie Layton?) youthful appearance, Gedge may not have been facetious. The set list drew songs from throughout the band's history, including a few Cinerama numbers since Gedge pointed out that the line-up for the two bands is now the same. While it was a blast to hear "Brassneck" and "Click Click," the latter enabled by female bass player's Terry de Castro providing backing vocals, it was an unexpected disappointment for them to exclude "Interstate 5," the haunting lead single off their latest album, Take Fountain.

All in all, the band were in fine form, starting with opening number "Corduroy," since Gedge dove in trying to saw his guitar in half with just his bare hands and a guitar pick. No wonder I still love this band.

As I mentioned in a previous post, I decided to create a 120-song playlist for my iPod Shuffle to celebrate my upcoming 40th birthday. I wanted to include favorite songs and artists from throughout my life. After doing some fun "research" to help trigger memories (rifling through my LPs, reviewing my database of all the bands I've covered for publication, studying the track listings on Rhino's 1970s and new wave series), I came up with about 130 artists, sometimes with specific albums and songs in mind, which I then winnowed down to 120. The hardest part was choosing a single song by some artists. I used the following criteria in making the picks:

1. Only one song by any artist.
2. I didn't bother to note the album if it didn't matter to me, especially if I knew I'd be copying it from a compilation.
3. No songs that I'd included on previous mix tapes or CDs that I'd made for myself.
4. When in doubt, choose a song that evokes memories of a particular person or event.
5. Remember that there is no one, perfect answer. For example, I couldn't go wrong with either "London Calling" or "Police on My Back" in lieu of "The Magnificent Seven," my ultimate Clash selection.

While it may be outside the implied rule of blogging to engage in self-centered blathering, I'll skip the stories behind my choices because, in many cases, it would bore even the other people connected to the memories. But I did notice a few trends:

• I picked songs that reminded me of the deaths of both my grandmothers but neither of my grandfathers.
• I started to develop taste in music in about 1979 or 1980. Anything on the list from 1979 or earlier that's cool is probably something I discovered after the fact. Anything cheesy is probably what I loved at the time, and there's no point in being embarrassed about it now.
• A bunch of musicians made the list twice:
• Joe Strummer - Clash and solo
• Mick Jones - Clash and Big Audio Dynamite
• Pete Townshend - The Who and solo
• Karl Wallinger - The Waterboys and World Party
• David Gedge - The Wedding Present and Cinerama
• Most of the members of the Undertones and That Petrol Emotion
• Justin Harwood just missed on making the list twice; although a member of both the Chills and Luna, he wasn't in the frequently-shifting Chills line-up when they recorded "Pink Frost."
• I don't even want to think about how much of my favorite music is now out of print, so I'm glad to own what I do.

It's been a fun process selecting and assembling the playlist. I highly recommend it.

The selections:
A, You're Adorable
An Emotional Fish – An Emotional Fish - Celebrate
Animotion - Obsession
Armstrong, Louis - What A Wonderful World
Babes in Toyland – Fontenelle - Bluebell
Badly Drawn Boy – About a Boy – A Peak You Reach
Bats – Silverbeet – Sighting the Sound
Beastie Boys – Hello Nasty - Intergalactic
Belle & Sebastian - If You're Feeling Sinister – Me and the Major
Big Audio Dynamite – Rush
Blondie – Rapture
Bowie, David – Ziggy Stardust – Suffragette City
Bragg, Billy – Workers Playtime – Valentine’s Day Is Over
Buzzcocks – Operators Manual – What Do I Get?
Cars – Cars – You’re All I’ve Got Tonight
Catherine Wheel – Ferment – I Want to Touch You
Cave, Nick & the Bad Seeds - Tender Prey – The Mercy Seat
Chameleons - Strange Times - Swamp Thing
Chicago – 25 or 6 to 4
Chills – Kaleidoscope World - Pink Frost
Church – Starfish - Reptile
Cinerama – Disco Volante - Wow
Clash – Sandanista! – The Magnificent Seven
Coldplay – A Rush of Blood to the Head – The Scientist
Cope, Julian – 20 Mothers – Greedhead Detector
Costello, Elvis – (The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes
Culture Club - Karma Chameleon
Cure – Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me – Why Can’t I Be You?
Cynics – Living Is the Best Revenge – Revenge
Dead Milkmen – Big Lizard in My Back Yard – Bitchin’ Camaro
Deee-Lite – World Clique - Groove Is in the Heart
Depeche Mode – Speak & Spell – Just Can’t Get Enough
Detroit Cobras – Hey Sailor
Echo and the Bunnymen - Ocean Rain – The Killing Moon
Ernie – A Sesame Street Celebration – Rubber Duckie
Fall - I Am Curious Orange - New Big Prinz
Fatboy Slim - Better Living Through Chemistry - Going Out of My Head
Fatima Mansions – Viva Dead Ponies – Blues for Ceauseseu
Fine Young Cannibals – Fine Young Cannibals – Johnny, Come Home
Folds, Ben, Five – Ben Folds Five - Underground
Fountains of Wayne - Welcome Interstate Managers - Little Red Light
Frankie Goes to Hollywood - Relax
Gang of Four – Damaged Goods
Godfathers - Birth, School, Work, Death – Birth, School, Work, Death
Grease – Summer Nights
Hitchcock, Robyn & the Egyptians – Respect – Wafflehead
Hives - Vene, Vidi, Vicious - Declare Guerre Nucleaire
Hoodoo Gurus – Stoneage Romeos – I Want You Back
Hunters & Collectors - Human Frailty – Throw Your Arms Around Me
Imperial Teen – What Is Not to Love – Yoo Hoo
Inspiral Carpets – Life – Commercial Rain
Interpol – Antics - Evil
INXS – Shabooh Shoobah – Don’t Change
Jesus and Mary Chain – Psychocandy – Just Like Honey
Joel, Billy - Just the Way You Are
John, Elton – Philadelphia Freedom
King and I - Getting to Know You
Love & Rockets – Lift – R.I.P 20 C.
Luna – Bewitched – Friendly Advice
Lush – Lovelife - Ladykillers
Magnetic Fields - 69 Love Songs – Papa Was a Rodeo
McLean, Don – American Pie
Ministry – A Mind Is a Terrible Thing to Taste – Burning Inside
Moby – Play – Honey
Mooney Suzuki - Electric Sweat - In a Young Man's Mind
Mudhoney – Mudhoney – You Got It
Muppet Movie – Rainbow Connection
Nena – 99 Luftballons
New Order – Temptation
Nine Inch Nails – The Downward Spiral – I Do Not Want This
Nirvana - Smells Like Teen Spirit
Numan, Gary – Pleasure Principle - Cars
Ocean Blue – Ocean Blue – Drifting, Falling
O'Day, Alan - Undercover Angel
Partridge Family – Partridge Family Album – Point Me in the Direction of Albuquerque
Pixies – Doolittle – Debaser
Police – Reggatta de Blanc – The Bed’s Too Big Without You
Pop Will Eat Itself – Cure for Sanity – Dance of the Mad Bastards
Pop, Iggy – Lust for Life
Pretenders – Brass in Pocket
Push Kings - Macy, Macy
R.E.M. – Document – It’s the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)
Radiohead – Kid A – Optimistic
Ramones – I Wanna Be Sedated
Red Hot Chili Peppers – Give It Away
Reed, Lou – Magic and Loss – No Change
Replacements – Tim – Kiss Me on the Bus
Reunion – Life Is a Rock (But the Radio Rolled Me)
Romantics – What I Like About You
Salt-n-Pepa - Push It
Screaming Blue Messiahs – Bikini Red – Big Brother Muscle
Siouxsie & the Banshees – Peepshow – Peek-AYBoo
Smiths – Meat Is Murder - How Soon Is Now
Sobule, Jill – Pink Pearl – One of These Days
Sonic Youth – Goo – Kool Thing
Soul Coughing - Ruby Vroom – Down To It
Springsteen, Bruce – The River - Cadillac Ranch
Stone Roses – Stone Roses – This Is the One
Streets - A Grand Don't Come for Free - Fit But You Know It
Strokes – Is This It – Barely Legal
Strummer, Joe – Streetcore – All in a Day
Talking Heads – Fear of Music - Life During Wartime
Tears for Fears - Songs from the Big Chair - Shout
That Petrol Emotion – Babble – Swamp
The The - Infected
Therapy? – Troublegum - The Knives
Townshend, Pete – Slit Skirts
U2 – War – New Year’s Day
UB40 – Labour of Love – Red Red Wine
Undertones – Teenage Kicks
Vaughn, Ben – M- Motor Vehicle
Village People - YMCA
Violet Femmes – Violet Femmes – Add It Up
Waits, Tom - Bone Machine - I Don't Want to Grow Up
Waterboys – This Is the Sea - Whole of the Moon
Wedding Present – Bizarro - Brassneck
Who - Quadrophenia - Love Reign O'er Me
Wonder Stuff – Eight-Legged Groove Machine - Unbearable
Wonder, Stevie - Songs in the Key of Life - Sir Duke
World Party – Egyptology – Love Is Best

I've liked plenty of bands with a single leader and ever-changing line-up, i.e. the Chills and the Wedding Present, but I had not previously realized just how much turnover the Fall had experienced, the only constant being Mark E. Smith. The Guardian ran a piece, "Excuse me, weren't you in the Fall?" in which writer Dave Simpson attempted to track down more than 40 former band members, many of  whom told fascinating tales of being recruited and/or fired abruptly. It's the second time I've read recently that Smith constantly shakes up the line-up as an intended strategy to keep the music fresh, that it is not an inadvertent effect of his cantankerous personality. It also reaffirms my perception that there is no such thing as a mediocre Fall show: "'Smith doesn't do average,' says bassist Steve Hanley, who met me in a Manchester pub. 'He'd rather do 10 great gigs and 10 rubbish gigs than anything in the middle.'"

Make your own Fall Out Boy jokes.

When the Wedding Present announced a few months ago that they were planning a North American tour for 2006, I feared that they would hit Chicago shortly after my new baby is born and I'd have to miss them again. But the new year is off to a great start: they are scheduled to play the Double Door on March 12, almost two weeks before my due date. Considering that I made it to the Fall and the Strokes three weeks before my due date with my first child and Fountains of Wayne three days before, I'll certainly buy advance tickets and hope the baby doesn't arrive early.

However, I'll hold off on the Wedding Present baby t-shirt for the new kid since my son has never had a strong reaction to the band's CDs, not the way he has with the Ramones, which warranted the purchase of his Ramones shirt.

WXRT is finally showing Little Steven the love he deserves. Little Steven's Underground Garage was ostensibly airing on WCKG, but good luck finding it. Who knows what obscure hours they had shunted it off to, especially since they couldn't be bothered to list its correctly scheduled time on their web site. (If I had enough free time and spite, I'd check for how long it takes them to finally remove it from their site.)

Not only will the show now air on WXRT 93.1 FM, possibly the only commercial radio station left in Chicago where DJs have any say over their playlists, but they're giving it a proper kick-off. Lin Brehmer will be interviewing Little Steven on Monday morning. The show will air Monday nights from 10 p.m. to midnight.

I attended a 40th birthday party recently. Most of the music was by the Who and Led Zeppelin, which left me thinking about the fact that my music taste continued to evolve well after high school and college. Since I'll be turning 40 myself next year, I started contemplating the perfect birthday mix. Starting from the premise that my iPod Shuffle holds about 120 songs, I figured I should come up with three songs from each year of my life. Then my mind started spinning with all the ways I could interpret this concept: my favorite songs at each age versus music that I've discovered after the fact, i.e. is "Undercover Angel" by Alan O'Day a better representative song for 1977 than the Ramones' "Teenage Lobotomy"? Should I include songs which aren't necessarily my favorites but I so strongly associate with specific times in my life, such as how "Relax:" by Frankie Goes to Hollywood and "Push It" by Salt-N-Pepa were the party staples that bookended my college years. Should "Head Like a Hole" be classified as 1989, the year Pretty Hate Machine was released, or 1990, when I first saw Nine Inch Nails and went on to see them twice more in just a few months? How do I narrow down to one favorite song by the Clash, the Police or the Cars?

I have about four months to work on this project, but I've already reached two conclusions. One is that I'll finally need to get software to digitize my vinyl, if only because it would be more convenient to have "Macy, Macy" by the Push Kings on something other than a single. The other is to not fret over making the perfect mix that strictly adheres to a precise set of self-imposed rules and just assemble 120 songs that will make me happy.

I hope to post the complete playlist in the future.

The Tribune ran a round-up of reunions and comebacks, including joking about how hardly anyone remembered New Zealand's Straitjacket Fits well enough to have noticed that they reunited in April. Fellow Flying Nun labelmates the Bats are so far off the radar that they didn't even warrant mention, despite releasing their first studio album in a decade, The Bats at the National Grid. Fortunately, WLUW is all over it, playing a track every time I turn on the radio, it seems. Ah, cozy, jangly New Zealand pop at its finest!

Concert Recommendation: Seu Jorge, Empty Bottle, Tuesday, September 20

I didn't get a chance in advance to mention Seu Jorge's show last night at the Logan Square Auditorium, but it sold out, so plenty of people heard about it anyway. Due to some customs issues for the artist originally scheduled to appear at the Empty Bottle on Tuesday night, Jorge is filling in for another Chicago appearance.

Don't know who he is? Check out The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. On the whole, the movie was too arch, but it had lots of cool and funny moments. The Brazilian Jorge provided many of the cool ones, singing David Bowie songs in Portuguese, accompanied on acoustic guitar. Should make for an intriguing evening of entertainment.

Seu Jorge plays at the Empty Bottle, 1035 N. Western Ave., Chicago, 773.276.3600 on Tuesday, September 20 at 9:45 p.m.

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.