San Francisco Music Blog

The Blank Tapes

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The Blank Tapes, Leopold and His Fiction, The Lonely H
Saturday, Feb. 6, 2010
Bottom of the Hill

Better Than: Going to an Allman Brothers reunion tour.

I know this city shuts down early, but do crowds really need to cut out at 11p.m. on a non-school night? Those who did missed out, as the old saying held true Saturday at Bottom of the Hill: the best was saved for last, and in this case, the second to last too.

Opening act The Blank Tapes went on at 10 p.m. and played a few songs off their soon to be released album Home Away From Home--unveiling a new, upbeat sound that traded the quiet banjos and ukuleles for a louder, garage rock style. Their short preview of new material revealed the same low-fi, 60's inspired pop songs but with more guitars, a welcome departure from the last album, which lacked kick. As upbeat as the set was, though, frontman Matt Adam's voice fell flat throughout the set, and he couldn't hold a candle to what was to come next.

Joseph Schell

​Thao with the Get Down Stay Down
Great American Music Hall
Friday, Feb. 5, 2010
Better Than: Thao, at the Treasure Island Music Festival.

It appeared that the entire population of Valencia Street had packed into a sold-out Great American show Friday night to see San Francisco's own Thao with the Get Down Stay Down. The group's front woman, Thao Nguyen, pulled off equal parts cute and baddass as she tromped across the stage in her cowboy boots, headbanging her shaggy haircut like she's possessed, while ripping it up on her enormous guitar. Thao's on-stage charisma is contagious, and her wild, energetic style feels very San Francisco. 

Considering the packed-in crowd of twenty-somethings ogling Thao from the dance floor, it was surprising to hear that she'd played for an audience of roughly four people for the band's last show on its European tour in Manchester, England. (Thao also mentioned that those four fans were all doing very distracting "noodle dances" while she was trying to get through her set). The group was clearly happy to be back on its home turf, and crowd members seemed happy to have them back.

Joseph Schell

​Thao and the Get Down Stay Down mostly played tunes from the latest album, Know Better, Learn Faster, but the group also threw in a few from its 2008 album, We Brave Bee Stings and All. Although Thao's songs are mostly catchy and upbeat, the lyrics suggest plenty of heartbreak and sadness behind those bangs. Thao prefaced her most booty-shake-inducing song, "Easy," the same way she does on the album, by saying: "This is a song about how sad people dance too."

Corentin Lamy

Do Make Say Think: not at last night's show, but, yeah, that's what they looked like

​Do Make Say Think, Years, The Happiness Project
Tuesday, Feb. 2, 2010
Great American Music Hall

Better than: Making your own Happiness; typical conversations with neighbors.

Bands that don't use many--or any--words in their compositions can still be great storytellers. The movement and momentum of a song can evoke passionate feelings of sadness, joy, confusion, and aggression as strongly as a chorus laying those feelings bare. Last night, the members of Toronto collective Do Make Say Think used creative sonic constructions to take fans beyond typical musical storylines. In various configurations for three different "bands," they moved music away from reminding us where we've been before and took us new places both intimate (the lives of their neighbors) and grand (the crazy, deep-space racket of echoing feedback and honking instruments).

One of DMST's founders, Charles Spearin, gave the lowdown of how things were going to work at the beginning of the night. Before "his" band, The Happiness Project, opened the show, he cheekily promised to fool us by having the exact same lineup on stage three different times, and we could just pretend like we were seeing three different bands. And while it's true that by midnight we'd grown familiar with the saxophonist's green cardigan, or the way the violinist enthusiastically shook her head to the beat when she wasn't playing, each act offered a unique facet of the crew's talents.

The Happiness Project was the most unusual, interesting concept for a band. As Spearin explained, his idea was to create music based on the rhythm of conversation. So he interviewed his neighbors--an impressively eclectic bunch--and listened for the melodies in the ways they were speaking. He then arranged those melodies into songs. "It was all very scientific," he said with a grin. And so we were introduced to a new songwriting method, but we also met, though audio recordings, the Jamaican Mrs. Morris, the Trinidadian Mr. Gowrie, a woman who was deaf until she hit 30, a 7-year-old who doesn't really like school, and Spearin's 3-year-old daughter, who definitely does not like almond butter.

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DJ Krush
Tuesday, Feb. 2, 2010
Mighty
Better Than: Staying home to watch Blade.

DJ Krush came all the way from Japan and all he got was the caprice of San Francisco's fans.

The pioneering figure in Japanese hip-hop, Krush is now nearly 50. Last night he spun out ambient noise patterns and samples that cast a prehistoric, tribal--or even arctic--mood. Projected on the screen behind him appeared a goldfish, now a jellyfish, now many goldfish. None of the songs had a beginning or end; they made an auditory environment, unfolding like the plot of a movie. It was a fitting presentation, as Krush was among the first producers to create tracks using snatches of film audio--setting the stage for RZA and the like--and he has since composed scores for dozens of movies, including the theme from Blade and a handful of anime productions in Japan.

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Now I know there are as many species of beat obsessives as there are obscene fetishes in the classified ads, but the endlessly repeating structure of some hardcore dance music loses all musical distinction. However hypnotic it may be, that aesthetic can sacrifice all melody and suspense. Krush's style is more like playing musical Tetris, handing down arrangements of the same repeated elements but composed in different combinations that form dramatic, twisting curves.

Two Sheds

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Grand Lake, Two Sheds, Fake Your Own Death and Kuma/Koshka‏
SF Winter Fest
Tuesday, Feb. 2, 2010
Thee Parkside

Better than: Watching the final season premiere of Lost. Absolutely, certainly, definitely. (Right?)

"It breaks my heart to be alive sometimes" was among the weighty, memorable refrains that Caitlin Gutenberger of Two Sheds dropped on a skeletal crowd at Thee Parkside last night. While one of few meaningful lyrics to come audibly out of the band's rough performance, it was certainly a fitting summation of the evening: Watching a block of talented locals deliver mostly lackluster performances brings on a particular kind of heartbreak.

Two Sheds

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Two Sheds, whose spare, moody rock fueled high hopes for last night's show, proved most disappointing, largely because they seemed unable to bring the mournful grace of their teetering songs to life. The subtleties of Gutenberger's smoky voice and the twinkling phrases of her reverb-laden guitar turned clumsy and blunt inside "San Francisco's Premier Dive Venue." Where we'd hoped for quivering sincerity -- on "It's Hard" and other gorgeous songs -- we heard only haphazard strumming and saw looks of surprise each time she realized where she was in the song. The other band members, including her husband Johnny Gutenberger, played along with generous smiles, and they weren't the only ones in the room showing teeth. Still, Two Sheds could have played far better. They could have decimated the crowd with their frankness and sublimity, but they didn't, and they acted onstage last night like they knew it.

Jason Segel: They loved you, man

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Celebrity Autobiography w/ Rachel Dratch, Laura Kightlinger, Laraine Newman, Steve Schirripa, Jason Segel, Fred Willard, Dayle Reyfel and Eugene Pack
SF Sketchfest
Sunday, Jan. 31, 2010
Cobb's Comedy Club

Better than: Reading Suzanne Somers' poetry alone.

One of the great things about San Francisco's giant comedy bender Sketchfest is all the different ways funny entertainers will make you laugh. The festival includes stand up, improv, iron comics, and, last night, comic actors reading the absurd autobiographies of celebrities who never should be allowed to speak about themselves in public, let alone publish a tome where they offer such valuable insight as "I really wanted to fuck that ass."

But thanks to Celebrity Autobiography creator Eugene Pack, no narcissistic admission is too small to take the piss out of. Pack collects together funny people to read passages from selected autobiographies, but the show gets further creative from there. In the second half of the act, a specific celeb situation is split into different parts, read by a group of actors from different celeb books (for example, the first affair between Burt Reynolds and Loni Anderson, orchestrated by Reynold's personal assist, Elaine Blake Hall, who also wrote a book. The Loni and Burt fling, from its New Year's Eve sexathon spark to its name-calling aftermath, was told through selected passages from all three books, the juxtaposition of perspective getting funnier and more absurd as the telling went along.)

The actors chosen for last night's Celebrity Autobiography were top shelf comedians: Pack; Fred Willard (who's often the best part of Christopher Guest's mockumentaries); Saturday Night Live's Rachel Dratch, Laura Kightlinger, and Laraine Newman; Steve Schirripa from The Sopranos; and, most beloved by all the screaming ladies at Cobb's, I Love You, Man's Jason Segel, a goofball who hammed it up the most for his applause.

Judgement Day

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Battlehooch, Judgement Day and The Hot Moon
SF Winter Fest
Saturday, Jan. 30, 2010
Bottom of the Hill

Better than: being force-fed sand while Metallica's "Load" blasts through
headphones at full volume; Megadeth.

Tell a friend, "Hey there's this band that plays metal with just a cello, violin, and drums," and they may act interested. But another question will certainly follow: "Is this band actually any good"?

Somehow, the notion of ridding metal of its favorite props -- those pointy, penile electric guitars and basses -- seems kinda loony, on par with trying to get its fans to give up black t-shirts and long hair. Past attempts (we're looking at you, Apocalyptica) have yielded music that, while interesting, doesn't quite produce the same urge to headbang as, say, a wall of cranked Marshalls.

Judgement Day

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But on Saturday night, an East Bay band called Judgement Day played its so-called "string metal" for a bursting SF Winter Fest crowd at Bottom of the Hill ... and the answer to our opening question became obvious. Lewis Patzner's electrified cello thundered with heavy distortion and a depth that was more percussive and dark than the electric guitar. His brother Anton whipped through searing violin solos, reminding us where shredding came from, and rendered their soaring melodies in an eerie, woody tone more stinging than a six string's. Together with drummer Jon Bush, the Patzner brothers banged out dizzyingly fast, abrasive, ominous metal.

Matt Braunger,  Connor Kellicut, and Brendan Lynch

SF Sketchfest

Thursday, Jan. 29, 2010

Punch Line

Better than: Watching Leno. Or Letterman.But definitely better than Leno.

It takes some pretty big balls to be a comedian--getting up there on stage before an expectant (i.e. drunk) crowd, no backing band to help you, having to make the room laugh repeatedly until the dude in the back shines a light alerting you that your time's up. Personally, I could never do it. But last night, the Punch Line hosted three very different types of comedians--the awkward dude, the family guy, and the smart-ass who made us laugh until we cried--as the final week of Sketchfest proved that a little low self esteem or a lot of beer gut can go a long way in entertaining people.

First up was the uncomfortable comic, Brendan Lynch, who admitted, among other things, that he's 6' 6", and that lot of shorter guys in bars are always trying to fight him. He also confided that he's awkward, which was as obvious as his height, but his discomfort gave his routine an edge. The more nervous he seemed, the funnier his observations that, say, "balloon animals are just origami for child molesters" became. I especially liked his bit about how much he misses the days when awkward people were simply shouldered out of the conversation.

Souls of Mischief

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Left Fest w/ Souls of Mischief, Hieroglyphics, Crowne Royal, Supernatural, Exile, Alexander Spit
Thursday, Jan. 28, 2010
Mezzanine

Better Than: Rock the Bells

Souls of Mischief stormed the stage last night with such havoc and energy that it turned on the crowd and capped the Left Fest event, a showcase gathering some of the best Bay Area hip-hop talent with a handful of independent rappers and DJs from around the country at Mezzanine.

The Oakland foursome SoM performed in support of its new album Montezuma's Revenge, produced by Prince Paul, and were joined onstage by fellow members of the proven East Bay rap collective Hieroglyphics, including Casual, Musab and the Chosen Few.

"We've been around a long time," said Mischief MC Opio. "The only places we haven't rocked yet are Antarctica and Alabama!"

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The group's aggressive, accelerated-tempo rhymes capped a night featuring a deep hip-hop roster. Local boy Alexander Spit kicked things off, backed by John Bryans of SF drum-electro combo Tenderlions, with a pounding tribute to Too Short's "Blow the Whistle." Freestyle specialist Supernatural filled the breaks between artists with his charming flows and his big red lumberjack flannel. Plaid was in vogue on the cold, full-moon night, with dozens of the boys and girls in the crowd sporting checkered flannels, velcroed sneakers, and ski caps.

Alexander Spit

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Polysics
Thursday, Jan. 28, 2010
Bottom of the Hill

Better Than: Anything I've seen at Bottom of the Hill for a while.

In person, Polysics turned out to be a lot more punk and a lot less electronic than anticipated.

Running through a setlist that included plenty of old favorites, they did a great job of connecting with a packed crowd. It was an unusual audience for Bottom of the Hill, too - older than you'd expect, and a lot more diverse. Where did all these Polysics fans come from? Far and wide, apparently--audience members could be overheard talking about driving in from several hours away just for the show.

And a hell of a show it was. Polysics share Devo's visual aesthetic, and there's no question that there are some similarities between the acts, but beyond the colorful jumpsuits and '80s visors is a band that, well, rocks. Every Polysics member was rock-solid from a musical perspective, but special kudos go to frontman Hiro, who was a crazy ball of energy and quite spectacular to behold. Does this man never get tired?

Silver Swans

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The Frail, Silver Swans, and Jonesin'
Thursday, Jan. 29, 2010
Cafe du Nord

Better than: Another night of listening to glam-y dance beats on your iPod speakers and trying to pretend it's a party.

Thursday, that final school night of the workweek, yearns for rhythm and style, for some loose, slick energy to shatter the dry rhythm and grating tempo of any bring-home-the-rent-money life pattern. Garage or glam, pop or punk, we need something... And last night's lightly-attended gathering of SF bands Silver Swans, The Frail, and Jonesin' -- a stylish convention of eyeshadow and electro-pop -- proved an ideal Thursday night party.

Silver Swans

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One explanation for the assembly of black-anything enthusiasts and obtrusive bang practitioners was the release party for Realize The Ghost, the debut record on the Tricycle label from Silver Swans, who played the middle slot. Comprising vocalist Ann Yu from SF's LoveLikeFire, drummer Dave Farrell, and producer/multi-instrumentalist Jon Waters, Silver Swans aim for a dark, dancy electro-pop concoction that hits somewhere between the Knife and Ladytron.

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Nneka
January 27, 2010
Red Devil Lounge
Better Than: the State of the Union, or the Nigerian underwear bomber

Berlin-based Nigerian Nneka delivered an intimate scolding to the crowd Wednesday, while moving them to jerk knees and hips to her radical Afro-funk ballads and ciphers. The chiseled-faced soulstress opened her tour for the new U.S.-released compilation Concrete Jungle at Red Devil Lounge.

Plenty of local Nigerian immigrants showed up to support their fellow expatriate, but she returned many Igbo and Yoruba cheers with lectures about capitalism and political indifference.

"This is not a joke," Nneka said. "There's a lot of trouble back home. Go back home and do something."

Wearing her trademark "Africa is the Future" gym-equipment hoodie, Nneka showcased her vocal versatility in front of the reggae-pop beats installed by her band. Maybe it was the venue's close quarters, but her songs achieved a quality much closer to the listener than the generalized backgrounding given on her record.

Richard Haick

​Phoenix, The Soft Pack
Tuesday, Jan. 26, 2010
The Fillmore

Check out the slideshow here.

Better than: Getting "bit in the dick" by a German shepherd (more on that later).

Few bands will kick off a set by playing their biggest hit first. But France's Phoenix seemed confident last night that they had more than a single smash up their sleeve, and judging by the way the fans sang and clapped and hooted along for most of their hour plus Fillmore set, they were right.

Richard Haick

​The group opened with "Lisztomania" like a finale, the signature turquoise and pink colors of the Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix album flashing brighter than a video game console behind them; and they played their finale like the winners of the superbowl, the crowd surging to cheer and raise their fists in victory with the reigning champions of pop, frontman Thomas Mars raised metaphorically (and, perhaps, physically?) on their shoulders. In between, the performance caused the audience to act like it was New Year's Eve, laughing and whooping and hugging one another--making the actions of  the nobodies on the wooden floor around you as infectious as the giant somebodies raised above you on the stage. All this is to say, only four months after Phoenix last came to town, they remain exciting and excitable performers--even when they played, ya know, those songs that aren't off Wolfgang, aren't being used in every last movie preview promo, and aren't on the latest edition of  Rock Band.

​Brian Wilson
Saturday, Jan. 23, 2010
San Francisco Art Exchange

(Much) better than: Paying $50 to squint at Brian Wilson from far away alongside thousands of other people; many other things $1,500 could be spent on (like fixing years of unpaid S.F. parking fines, or hiring an accountant).

On Saturday night, approximately 100 finely-dressed people crammed The San Francisco Art Exchange, a narrow art gallery near Union Square, to watch Brian Wilson and a small band play some of the most cherished pop songs ever created. For the privilege, most attendees allegedly paid $1,500, a price that came with a signed copy of the box set of Wilson's latest album, That Lucky Old Sun. For $3,500, around 20 fans got close-up seats at the show, the box set, and 12 Southern California-inspired prints by the (also present) artist Peter Blake (designer of, among other things, the cover of Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band).

This was a pop show for the patron class -- an art gallery gig on a circuit of big wigs' (or big brats') birthdays, mass corporate congresses, and other assorted gatherings mostly for the well-heeled. Wilson's a regular at this level and an easy fit for the role of Costly Genius: He has a catalog of pleasing, iconic songs and is legendary for both his indulgences and his idiosyncrasies.

​New Villager
Saturday, Jan. 24, 2010
Lowerdeck

Photos by Katie Bachner

Better than: Being at a venue where you aren't encouraged to draw on the walls.

Just when you think you've seen everything, a band puts on a show at a space that immerses you in their world--your eyes, ears, and even nose at the mercy of the environment. Such was the case with New Villager and Ecotones, the art show/event the duo curated with Katie Bachner (a curator at Johansson Projects in Oakland) at Lowerdeck, a blink-and-you'll-miss-it basement space in Dogpatch.  

Those who followed the cues for Lowerdeck's location--keeping an eye out for visitors arriving or leaving along an almost hidden stairway--were treated to a truly underground event. The walls, ceilings, even bathrooms were overtaken in a giant installation of stuffed animals, videos about deer, fake blood, illustrations, and graffiti both created and encouraged by the hosts.

​In the bathroom, furry, reconfigured children's toys hung from the ceiling, while further down in the cave-like environment, their legs, arms, heads, and eyeballs had also been reassigned to one another, making for a strange, mutant creature pile. In another corner, a large beast sat with its jaws open like an extra from a nightmarish Where the Wild Things Are scene.

The gallery was a labyrinth of macabre and more serene scenes. A small child's tent was outfitted with a large coke mirror in one area, while in another, a sound installation being projected from a tape player made images of fake blood all over the walls that much more eerie.

The materials used in these scenes only further enveloped you in the artists' fantasies, the strong scents of paint, or a very earthy clay/dirt smell, permeating the room.

This past Saturday's 10th Annual Edwardian Ball was the seductive fashion intersection of Edward Gorey, Tim Burton, and Dr. Seuss. Throw a little Steampunk style in there and what you have is a glorified underground prom where being elaborate caused more swagger than being pink, plucked, and perfect. It was clear from just glancing at the line rounding the corner of The Regency Ballroom that the intricate costumes weren't amateur in any sense of the word. The ball-goers were pros, some having spent months on their outfits.

Calibree Photography

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An impressive crowd of self-proclaimed Star Trek nerds beamed up to this year's Star Trek Convention, held over the weekend at San Francisco's Westin St. Francis Hotel. Day one had a sparser -- but definitely no less nerdy -- turnout as most devoted fans had come to see Sir Patrick Stewart and William Shatner banter it up together on Sunday. But those who skipped out for Saturday's events missed some of the best costumes of the weekend, prepared especially for the costume contest. Here are a few characters and highlights from the convention:

Joseph Schell

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Joseph Schell

​Devil Makes Three
The Independent
Friday, Jan. 22, 2010

Better Than: doing wrong, right.

If members of the Devil Makes Three really did sell their souls in exchange for musical talent, it's clear they made a worthy trade. The Santa Cruz-based trio, whose country/bluegrass music one crowd member declared is "so good, it's religious," played a lengthy, debauchery-inducing set to a sold-out audience at the Independent last night that could have seduced the devil out of a nun.

Although the band's lyrics may preach depravity, the quality of the music is anything but dirty. After four albums and a stellar previous year playing to sold-out audiences all over the country, this is a band that has their crowd-pleasing set down cold. That can, at times, make the show feel a bit canned -- last night, the group flew through their songs with an almost mechanical professionalism. But it wouldn't be surprising if they're trying to save a little energy as they have another sold-out show to play tonight at the Independent. Some of their tunes are so frantic that they're tiring just to listen to, let alone play.

Joseph Schell

​What sets Devil Makes Three apart from their similarly bluegrass flavored openers, an impressive foot-stomping quintet called Trampled By Turtles, is their attention to melody and lyrics. Many of their songs incorporate impressive instrumental breakdowns that highlight each band member's musical talents on banjo, guitar, and bass. Songs in last night's set ran the gamut from raucous ("St. James Infirmary") to upbeat ("Bullet") to haunting ("Graveyard"). But nearly all of them target the same subjects: booze, religion, doing wrong, and more booze.

​The Black Lips, Nobunny, Personal & the Pizzas
Thursday, Jan. 21, 2010
Great American Music Hall

The Black Lips are excellent purveyors of their own mythology. Labeling themselves as "flower punk" or even "the kings of psychedelic garage rock," the young Atlanta foursome have worked hard to create an image as torch-carrying, globe-trotting, New-York-Times-reading misfits at once hedonistic and wise; savvy and obscene. They've been playing this ramshackle, slop-pop-rock together since the age of 15! They get naked, kiss, and eject bodily fluids onstage! They recorded an album live in a rowdy Tijuana bar! The band even got kicked out of India!

​With a backstory like this one, saying that the band's performance at Great American Music Hall had a lot to live up to is an understatement. Perhaps it was bound to be a disappointment -- although we seemed alone in this feeling among the young, enthusiastic, sold-out crowd -- but last night, Black Lips seemed the opposite of mythic. They seemed like just another rock band.

​The Black Lips' records are cutely messy, but onstage, the band's sound lost all definition, space, and dynamics. The reverb, distortion, and general sloppiness diluted the effusive energy of the music. Songs that shouldn't have sounded similar did. They were trying: Joe Bradley could have earned an Olympic medal with his frenetic drumming, but its musical impact was fuzzy. Frontmen Jared Swilley and Cole Alexander flailed, fell, and stumbled around the stage, but whether that hindered their playing or not, the wash of bland noise just blared on. Even their "Yay, we're all bros!" charm didn't cut through the mix.

Greg Proops

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The Greg Proops Chat Show: With special guests Robin Williams, Linda Cardellini, and musical guest Michael Penn
Wednesday Jan. 20, 2010
Yoshi's

Better than: Writing an investigative story about the $16 "convenience" fee Yoshi's charges for purchasing tickets online.

I was pretty sure I was on Team Conan, but I may have flipped to Team Proops. Admittedly, Greg Proops is not in the running for late night talk show host, but the world is worse for it. Proops took the stage last night at 8 p.m. and didn't give it back for nearly three hours. He owned every minute of it.

Proops, a Bay Area native, quipped that we San Franciscans are so "self-reflexive, self-loving" we could give ourselves a rectal exam. It's almost impossible to quote him directly beyond that because he talks fast, flipping jokes inside out until you end up on the other side talking about an iguana sitting on the shoulder of a shirtless man in a leather vest standing on a Mission street corner. Proops has a fun, ranty, self-deprecating, flamboyant, quick comedy style with depth, range, and most importantly, great jokes.

Jean Alcide

​Better Than: A hot toddy in front of the hearth on a rainy night

If you're going to leave the house to do anything on a shitty night when the clouds are pissing rain, never fully committing to a storm, it might as well be to soak in some country music in a dark room lit with red lights. A.A. Bondy plays mournful, pretty music that evokes portentous landscapes. He writes sad songs, but it's not breakup material.

Bondy is currently six stops deep into a tour following the release of his second album, 2009's When the Devil's Loose, and he performed that country music with a pound of reverb under the red lights at Cafe Du Nord last night.

L-R Ricky Powell, DJ Centipede, Edan

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Echo Party featuring Edan and Ricky Powell
Tuesday, Jan. 19, 2010
SOM

Better Than: Sitting home stoned, drawing cartoons and blasting beats while you watch Lost with the sound down.

Too few music fans see hip-hop as a cultural phenomenon of DIY media and craft. But since it hatched in the South Bronx in the late-'70s, hip-hop's cut-and-paste approach to music, video, and photography has been key to Western pop culture.

Both Boston MC/DJ/producer Edan and veteran NYC street photographer Ricky Powell proudly continue that collage tradition, which made them a great pairing for the resurrection of local DJ Centipede's vaunted underground beat lounge Change the Beat.

DJ Edan on mic, Mac and turntables

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This proved to be a night of millions of images and beats, all dating from before the mid-'90s. After Centipede's short set of exotic beats, Powell opened up with a tour-de-force narrated slide show of random shots from the past 27 years of his work. These included simple, evocative snaps of rap stars like Run DMC and Schooly D, celebrities like Andy Warhol and Sandra Bernhardt, and the occasional street-bum or girlfriend. As a legendary East Village man-about-town and the Beastie Boys' first official photographer during their party-fuelled mid-'80s ascent, Powell played a brilliant Uncle Old School to the mostly under-30 crowd in SOM's elegant yet inviting surroundings.

Jimmy Pardo

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Show Explosion!
Featuring: Scott Aukerman, Doug Benson, Michael Ian Black, Dave Foley, Aimee Mann, Andy Richter, Paul F. Thompkins, and host Jimmy Pardo
Saturday, Jan. 16, 2010
Cobb's Comedy Club

Better than: Re-watching 70's episodes of The Match Game.

Saturday night's Game Show Explosion! was a revival of 70's show Match Game, which has been resurrected in the LA comedy scene by host Jimmy Pardo and Scott Aukerman. For those unfamiliar with the game, celebrity panelists have to guess a word that finishes a given sentence, while the contestants guess the panelists' answers. Simple, right?

Before introducing himself, Pardo limped painfully on stage only to ask the audience for copious amounts of vicodin--though he turned down the person in front who actually offered some. Panelists were then introduced, with Dave Foley and Andy Richter stealing most of the audience's love. Aukerman, unhappy with the low-level of applause, decided he could play more effectively with a partner - Aimee Mann. The two, dubbed "Auker-Mann" by Pardo, split tasks. Aukerman would write out the answers, while Mann's job (apparently she is somewhat of an artist) would draw all of Scott's answers.

Upon entering Cobb's, audience members were asked to put their names in a jar to be randomly chosen as a contestant, with the opportunity of winning up to $100. We failed to be informed that public humiliation by a panel of surly, drunken comedians would also be the prize. Such was the fate of contestant #1, Ellen Park. Park, who looked as if she wanted to be any place but on stage, took to answering Pardo's questions in a very vague manner. She was immediately ripped to shreds by the comedians. Ms. Park clearly had enough by the time Foley quipped that she was running late for her Margaret Cho impersonators meeting.

Scott Aukerman

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Comedy Death-Ray with Michael Ian Black, Dana Gould, Doug Benson, Natasha Leggero, Scott Aukerman and musical guest Aimee Mann
Friday January 16, 2010
Cobb's Comedy Club

Better Than: The Tonight Show with Jay Leno

Even without the adorable Michael Cera on the line-up (he had to cancel last minute), Sketchfest's sold out Comedy Death-Ray was a great variety show. Hosted by Scott Aukerman, it was a night with one common thread: great talent.

The stoner comic Doug Benson, from Super High Me, opened the show by admitting, "Sorry I didn't come over -- your text was so sexy I just rubbed one out." The pot smoking, TV watching, every man routine was as lovable as it was funny. Benson did an amazing bit about getting stoned prior to boarding airplanes and being outraged when the "peanut lady" (flight attendant) brought pretzels instead of peanuts.

Natasha Leggero

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Following Benson was Natasha Leggero, who is a regular on E's Chelsea Lately. Leggero confidently walked onto the stage with her long satin gloves and Forever 21 dress, and dramatically put her fur coat on the stool before saying, "Don't worry, it's a fake. Here on the tag, it says faux - oh wait, that says fox." Her biting humor, juxtaposed against her upscale city-girl routine made her considerably larger in life than she seems on the small screen.

After Leggero, Aukerman introduced a character who stumbled onto the stage playing a clueless San Francisco tourist. His improvisation was a little lost on the crowd. Luckily, the bit didn't last too long before Aimee Mann took the stage. Admittedly, the pairing took some of the comedic energy out of the night, but a musician with Mann's talent can play in almost any setting.

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The Coup
January 15, 2010
The Independent
Better Than: Zion I

Friday night, The Coup played a somber salute to Dewey Tucker, the group's bassist who was murdered Wednesday while driving to band practice.

"I would have cancelled the show tonight," said Boots Riley, the Coup's frontman. "I almost cancelled. Folks is always saying you've got to play. 'He would have wanted you to play.' Fuck that, he would have wanted to be alive."

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Nevertheless the Coup performed Riley's signature brand of aggressive riot funk, with Pam the Funkstress turning records and Silk-E (of "Baby Lets Have a Baby Before Bush Do Something Crazy" fame) supplying backing vocals. Lyrics Born's bassist Marcus Phillips filled in for Tucker.

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The Coup's principles have gotten more attention lately for their side projects, Riley's Street Sweeper Social Club act with Tom Morello and Pam's Cajun cooking business Piccadilly Catering, but Friday they directly called upon the band's familiar insurgent standards featuring Riley rapping about, among other things, the million and one ways to kill corporate executives.

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9th Annual Sleepless Nights: Gram Parsons Tribute Concert
Friday, Jan. 15, 2010
Great American Music Hall

Better Than: Ninety percent of all other tribute shows.

Eric Shea and Molly Tuttle are all-stars of the local country music scene -- their taste is infallible, they smile a lot, and they love love love Gram Parsons. Their ninth annual Sleepless Nights tribute concert was proof of all of the above, as band after band let Parsons' sweet hippie melodies roll out over the audience.

It was a class act from the second I got there -- a band onstage was singing the Byrds' version of Bob Dylan's "You Ain't Goin' Nowhere," not an easy harmony to nail. Running into Sweet Chariot's Noelle Cahill, I asked which band it was.

"That's the Parties, and they're killing." she said quickly, so that we could both get back to listening. Paula Frazer and Elisa Randazzo fronted a beautiful band that appeared to have the ghost of Parsons himself on drums while Frazer nailed "Hickory Wind." The Real Sippin' Whiskeys got some excellent Gram/Emmylou harmonies in there.

Danielle Hall

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Tim and Eric: Pussy Whip Gang Bang, Neil Hamburger
January 14, 2010
Mezzanine

Better than: Watching This is Spinal Tap for the millionth time.

"Q: What do you get when you put a penny in the asshole of each of the members of Smash Mouth? A: Nickelback."

This was just one of many fine, acerbic one-liners kicking off last night's show at Mezzanine, the opening event for SF Sketchfest, which runs through February. The joke came from Neil Hamburger, the faux-lounge comedian played Andy Kaufman style by Gregg Turkington.

Watching Hamburger is intriguing as disgusting. He's best known for his throat clearing, spitting into his drinks, and yelling loudly before each joke. Hamburger's sets are a perfectly timed routines aimed at getting the audience riled up, and bringing them back down again. His series of jokes ranged from the outdated (about the deaths of Michael Jackson and Heath Ledger) to the extremely outdated (about Smash Mouth, Red Hot Chili Peppers and Kenny G.) Hamburger's best moment onstage was when he solemnly announced how he just learned of Steven Tyler's death earlier that evening on CNN. This bit of news immediately sent everyone at Mezzanine into a flurry, people frantically checking their phones to find the truth. Note: Steven Tyler is not dead, although it he did fall off a stage last year.

Danielle Hall

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Comedic headliners Tim and Eric took the joke-band concept to a new level with Puss Whip Gang Bang, their 70's funk rock band that performs songs from their TV show and album Awesome Record, Great Songs! Tim Heidecker appeared on the stage in multi-colored leggings, an over-stuffed package, and a terrible wig, while Eric Wareheim was a bit more toned down in a tie-dye shirt and women's pants. They were joined by a backing band of professional musicians, and a bassist who was possibly not in on the joke.

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Thee Oh Sees, Mayyors, Ganglians, and Ty Segall
Thursday, Jan. 14, 2010
Eagle Tavern

Better than: Compromising stylistic purity for comfort

It was the kind of night that reminds you of all that is great about Bay Area music: four hot local bands--Ty Segall, Ganglians, Mayyors and Thee Oh Sees at Eagle Tavern, a legendary dive bar deep in SOMA Gay Territory. (A bar that's now in search of a new owner, but please, as Oh Sees frontman John Dwyer pleaded from the stage, not a new identity).

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Everything about the setup was underground rock 'n' roll as it's supposed to be. We were in an appropriately raunchy and logistically wanting venue. (The Eagle stage is so tiny that Ganglians' lanky frontman, who walked in carrying a guitar and a keyboard stand, had to ask where it was.) Even the warm, clear night seemed to portend that something amazing would happen here.

Opener Ty Segall proved that earnestness and likeability can go hand-in-hand with garage-pop goodness. His fresh countenance (so few beards last night!) was hidden behind a blond shag, but he let out top-shelf howls reminiscent of Lux Interior's. Segall's stacked vintage amps popped and buzzed and ultimately had to be abandoned--but how charming! His fuzz-pop tunes--all of which seemed very short--simply rocked. The music was quaffable, even lovable, though not transcendent.

The Spyrals

​The Lickets, Moon Duo, The Spyrals
Tuesday, Jan. 12, 2009
Cafe du Nord

Better than: a space odyssey.

After last night's show, I'll be hard pressed to say nothing good ever comes out of being in line at the DMV. The Cafe du Nord lineup of the Lickets, Moon Duo, and the Spyrals came about, according to this cool, science fiction paperback-like flier, because someone in one of the bands was waiting in line forever at the DMV and fantasized about curating a gig that felt like a late '60s Berlin arts club. Having not been alive in the late '60s, and having been to Berlin only once, I can't tell you how close that El Cerrito DMV dream came to reality, but the performers definitely sent the crowd on a good trip. Particularly when their music was matched with a colorful light and film show.

The idea seemed to be to explore the outer reaches of various genres, from noisy, fuzzed out rock to folsky, orchestral mood swings, with visuals helping couch the experience in a multi-media acid bath.

The lineup was definitely one of the more interesting collections of local acts in recent days, and the Spyrals one of the best opening bands I've seen in a while. They tapped into that Stooges/shoegazer sound that reared its head a decade back with bands like Black Rebel Motorcycle Club and The Icarus Line (who in turn were taking from the Jesus and Mary Chain). But that heavy effects, drony shoegazer style has become far too calm in recent years. The Spyrals projected pure adrenaline and aggression on one hand, and attention to sexy, druggy melodies on the other, kicking out the jams with a ferocity that's been sorely missing in their genre.

Gretchen Robinette

​Sonic Youth, Sic Alps
The Fillmore
Sunday, Jan. 10, 2010

Better than: Retaining your hearing.

The cumulus cloud of pot smoke may have been hanging pretty thick over The Fillmore last night, but being stoned wasn't a requirement to enjoy Sonic Youth's third stop in San Francisco in less than five months. The band was wrapping up its brief, six-date mini-tour, making up for canceled dates from September after bassist guitarist Lee Ranaldo fractured his wrist. This particular performance gave those who didn't make it to the August shows at The Fox and Independent a chance to catch the group, and for all others to gleefully gloat about how many Sonic Youth shows they've seen in the past year.

San Francisco's Sic Alps opened the show at 8 p.m., their driven, psychedelic rock a decent warm-up to what was ahead. It got heads bobbing and crown attention focused on the stage.

By the time Sonic Youth came on stage an hour later, the place was packed and the energy in the room was electric. Rarely have I seen an audience this excited. Like the August shows, the focus was on The Eternal, with the band playing damn near the entire album in exactly an hour.

Gretchen Robinette

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Fans and band seemed to deem words unnecessary between songs, save for the cat-calls focused on how hot Kim Gordon is and Thurston Moore dedicating "Leaky Lifeboat" to his daughter Coco. Down time was instead filled with the familiar, ear assaulting, experimental wall of sound that melded one number into the next. Setlist highlights included "What We Know" and "Antenna," the latter the perfect soundtrack to an alien invasion.