San Francisco Music Blog

The Wizard hates to lose

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On any given Tuesday, Alcoholocaust provides a boozy chance to recharge old memory centers while simultaneously (and paradoxically) killing a few brain cells: cheap Tecate in fist, you can challenge yourself to recall which vintage metal or classic punk track you're hearing above the social din. Get it right and give yourself a satisified pat on the back, Mr. I. M. DeShit!

With "Stump the Wizard," however, the event's resident DJs have upped the ante. At this name-that-tune variant for underground rock obsessives, the first record-collector geek to guess the song currently spinning wins a free beer. Spot three songs in a row and the DJ promises to "pack up his things, sit at the bar sulking, and buy that person shots until the bar closes." That means you get both cerveza and a sense of smug superiority. It's like every heavy metal nerd's dream come true -- minus the half-naked Viking babe riding a white sabertooth tiger to a sex orgy in Norway, of course. (9 p.m., free, at the Argus)

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mr. Gnome @ Elbo Room

The new album by Cleveland duo mr. Gnome, Heave Yer Skeleton, is a surreal rock listen. Largely recorded at the Los Angeles studio of Queens of the Stone Age frontman Josh Homme, the band's sophomore full-length contains layers of echoey, keening vocals and effects-slathered guitar courtesy of Nicole Barille. She's anchored by the propulsive drum work and instrumental fills of Sam Meister. Together, they've created a surprisingly big, lush record.

Skeleton sprawls stylistically, mixing atmospheric numbers with screwy pop and roaring prog-rock. Barille says this sonic density and variety came about in part because there were so many cool tools available at Homme's Pink Duck Studios. The musicians had at their disposal vintage amps, crazy effects pedals, and all manner of guitars -- basically every noisemaking toy Homme and his compatriots have accumulated over the last decade. "I think we tracked way too many things," she says with a laugh. "We kinda went crazy. Full bands don't have that many tracks, much less a two-piece."

The band plays tonight at Elbo Room (9 p.m., $6). You can read more about them here.

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Mapping out a universe of spongy synth leads and canned beats, Texas tinkerer Alan Palomo has managed an offbeat triumph in Psychic Chasms, the debut of Neon Indian, his one-man project. The album, which features such casually sung gems as "Terminally Chill" and "Ephemeral Artery," was recently released by the rising Sacramento label Lefse. But beyond the jokey song titles and ticklish retro groove is a mind-altering listen.

Neon Indian captures the heightened reality and inner turmoil of adolescence while also tapping into Ariel Pink and My Bloody Valentine. "Deadbeat Summer" is a yawning slice of the wasting season it explores, whereas "Mind, Drip" crawls to a pulsing glow and "Laughing Gas" reveals Palomo's knack for shimmering dance music. He notes the influence of synth-heavy film scores from the late '70s and early '80s. Indeed, there's something wonderfully kitschy and dated about the sounds he employs, recalling Paul McCartney's "Wonderful Christmastime" as much as Phil Collins' early solo work.

Neon Indian performs tonight at Rickshaw Stop (8 p.m., $10-$12). Read more about the music here.

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Raphael Saadiq @ The Fox

Oakland native Raphael Saadiq first came to national prominence with his '80s R&B group Tony! Toni! Toné! He found subsequent success as a Grammy-winning solo artist and producer of R&B hits, including D'Angelo's flesh-baring "(Untitled) How Does It Feel." Though he has always been considered an old soul in a fresh body with his unique, nimble vocal tone, Saadiq's most recent album, The Way I See It, draws a heavy influence from such Motown greats as the Temptations, Gladys Knight, and Stevie Wonder, who even plays harmonica for "Never Give You Up." Saadiq plays The Fox Theater in Oakland tonight (7:30 p.m., $39.50).

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Julian Casablancas @ Regency Ballroom

Long the Strokes' slurred voice of sleazy cool, Julian Casablancas has become the latest member of that band to indulge in a side project. In his case, it's an eight-song solo album, Phrazes for the Young. Swimming in retro synths and elastic guitar lines, it's a clear love letter to his '80s upbringing. Lead single "11th Dimension" pursues a jittering, summery slickness, while "River of Brakelights" crisscrosses biting melodies with overcaffeinated percussion. His vague lyrics exude dreamy imagery, and while it's not a fourth Strokes album -- that's due sometime next year -- it's damn fun. (8 p.m., $30-$33, Regency Ballroom)

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Eat @ 111 Minna

Galleries are known for serving Trader Joe's buckets of minibrownies, not sliders with heirloom pepper relish and aioli, wild boar sausages on potato rolls, flatbread with foraged mushrooms, and cupcakes by Kingdom Cake. There: We just told you most of the menu at tonight's EAT at 111 Minna. Every Monday, chef Tommy Halvorson of underground Phoenix Supper Club thinks up a special tapas-style menu, doesn't go to Phoenix Supper Club, goes instead to the gallery, and fixes up special dishes for those who want to dine alongside art and a changing lineup of DJs: tonight, that's Señor Oz from Afrolicious. For those who think Halvorson's dinner-in-a-gallery sounds like something from a Top Chef challenge, consider this: Phoenix Supper Club is a roaming restaurant with no fixed kitchen. Chef Tommy knows exactly what he's doing.

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The idea of mournful lyrics buoyed by joyous music is an old one, going back in time to when Oog beat frantically on a rock while yelling about his pet mastodon running away. Folks tend to point to the Beach Boys as the modern masters of this style, but that outlook neglects such earlier iconic acts as Dion and Del Shannon. Unlike the Drums' '60s-obsessed peers, the Brooklyn foursome takes inspiration from these and other '50s artists, choosing falsetto backing vocals, giddy handclaps, and echoey rumble over multilayered jingle-jangle.

The Drums' debut EP, Summertime!, captures the same tart/sweet dichotomy of classics like "Runaround Sue," offering angry lyrics like "Summer's just beginning, baby/I might learn to hate you, lady/One minute you're acting crazy/ I might have to hate you, baby" (from "Saddest Summer Ever") over euphoric backing tracks. Plus, singer Jonathan Pierce's whooping pout of a voice makes anything -- even words like "horseshit" -- sound romantically charged. While British music rags are prone to exaggeration, it's hard not to agree with NME's assertion that this "might be the most contagiously energetic NYC band of the past 10 years."

The Drums perform at Popscene tonight alongside Annie (DJ set), 10 p.m., $10-$12,

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Javelin and Lucky Dragons @ the Knockout

Tom Van Buskirk and George Langford are big on recycling. As Javelin, the Rhode Island cousins make jumpy electronic pop that mines old sounds for new ones. Limited to 500 copies, their debut 12-inch on Thrill Jockey features unique art screen-printed by hand onto used sleeves. And when playing live, the guys stack painted boom boxes into teetering towers. If all of this sounds as much like art as music, Javelin has indeed played at New York's Museum of Modern Art. But there's nothing pretentious about the songs themselves, which revere gooey analog synths and choppy percussion. "Lindsey Brohan" is a sublime slice of junkyard rediscovery, while "Soda Popinski" builds a rap-damaged thumper from the theme music of its title character, a boozing boxer first seen in an '80s Nintendo cartridge. Ticklish and eye-opening, Javelin has another 12-inch planned before issuing a debut album on David Byrne's Luaka Bop label.

Sharing the stage with Javelin is Lucky Dragons, a long-running yet underrated L.A. act built on twitchy experimentation. Live and on record, its music is a fascinating jolt of beauty and intrigue. When it comes to this sort of improv-based voyaging, last year's Dream Island Laughing Language should be held up as the gold standard.

Honey and DJ Neil Martinson open when Javelin and Lucky Dragons perform tonight at the Knockout. (9 p.m., $8)

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Moon @ the Red Vic (through Wed.)

Moon is one of my favorite films of 2009. Created by David Bowie's son Duncan Jones, the movie riffs off 2001: A Space Odyssey but has its own pop culture sheen and subtle humor. Without saying too much, it's the story of astronaut Sam Bell (Sam Rockwell), whose work on the moon is not what it seems once he discovers a crash outside the safety of his solo space craft. Bell is aided by Gerty, a robot buddy voiced by Kevin Spacey who may or may not be working towards the same mission. With an eerie minimal electronic soundtrack, Moon is like a thoughtful sci-fi music video, beautifully shot and fun to watch. 

The film plays at the Red Vic through Wednesday.

Katherine Leigh Matutina

DJ Pickpocket (left)

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Donuts 3-Year Anniversary @ the Knockout

It's a testament to San Francisco's good taste that DJs Pickpocket and AC's Donuts club night has thrived against the mindless wave of Lady Gaga-ish '80s-glam attitude that has recently broken over the local club scene. Now Donuts celebrates three years of presenting obscure '60s to '80s DJ dance beats; innovative live music; and visual art and fashion with a lineup of the West Coast's shiniest live electronic artists. S.F.'s analog kosmische master, Jonas Reinhardt, and easy-pop duo Windsurf join Portland-based motorik Afrotech heads Miracles Club in what will prove to be an artfully sweaty night indeed. Get your Donuts dunked starting at 9:30 p.m. at the Knockout, $6.

Blues Control @ The Hemlock

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In terms of cringeworthy musical clichés, stating that "the blues" is a state of mind ranks near the top of the list. Thankfully, Queens-based duo Blues Control gets into the best kind of headspace possible: that of a total mindfuck. The band crafts woozy, inscrutable, seemingly endless instrumentals on one guitar and a keyboard (and sometimes an old drum machine), making music that always seems to be unraveling, at once hypnotizing and confounding. Built up from tape loops or primitive electronics, the guitar oozes and flares, never quite settling into a pattern, while the piano seems to be everywhere at once, underpinning the proceedings while also taking them further out.

The band's third album, Local Flavor, is its most coherent yet, at least in terms of the duo's aesthetic sensibilities. "Good Morning" opens things up with a frantic lo-fi drum machine before moving into a fuzzy guitar outburst. The deft piano accompaniment expands upon the melody. A touch of layered brass caps off this lo-fi boogie-glam hybrid. Ambient loops and murky melodic excursions waft in and out of focus throughout Local Flavor, culminating in the mesmeric 17-minute smog of church organ and fried guitar on "On Through the Night."

Read the full Blues Control profile here, and check out the band live at the Hemlock (9 p.m., $7)

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"One Day: A Collective Narrative of Tehran" @ Intersection For The Arts

Taraneh Hemami of San Francisco and Ghazaleh Hedayat of Tehran teamed up to curate "One Day: A Collective Narrative of Tehran," describing life in the city through the eyes of its artists. The show (at Intersection For the Arts) acknowledges the ephemeral quality of a place that has been exciting and volatile through the years. Aside from Hemami, who was born in Tehran and came to the United States in 1978 to attend college, the participating artists reside in Tehran. Using photography and mixed media, they present work that responds to daily life in Iran, illustrating culture in a city of almost eight million people filled with variables and contradictions. Viewers may recall Hemami from her beautiful Transcendence installation at YBCA this spring, which was a response to war and strife in the Middle East. Three prayer rugs, pointing east, were constructed of shattered glass and ashes. The paradisiacal tree of life was detailed on the rugs in blue, orange, and clear glass. Her sharp, aesthetically gorgeous social commentaries are well complemented by the work of her colleagues, and further illuminate life in a country so physically distant but constantly present in our news.

A free opening reception starts at 7 p.m.

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Chinese Stars @ Thee Parkside

After rising from the blackened ashes of Skin Graft noiseniks Arab on Radar, The Chinese Stars initially seemed set on continuing their previous band's discomfiting mission: to simultaneously convert and confuse listeners with squirmy guitars, surreal lyrics issued via grating nasal whines, and lobotomized drum beats that anchored the insanity to a tangible rhythmic base. But recently they've mixed in vintage synthesizers à la Six Finger Satellite, resulting in an off-color blend of dance punk, dissonant rock, synth pop, and sheer weirdness. The Chinese Stars are now probably too dancey for No Wave distortion addicts, too frisky and atonal for neo-disco hipsters, and way too W.T.F. for any random passerby who might stumble into the club. They may no longer be a noise band, but it's possible the Chinese Stars have finally achieved Noise Band Nirvana -- by alienating absolutely everyone. At last, success! (8 p.m., $8, Thee Parkside)

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Día de los Muertos (or "Day of the Dead," for the infinitesimal fraction of English-speaking California residents who haven't picked up a smattering of holiday Spanish) is a celebration renowned for the particular aesthetic of its accompanying art and altars. Nary a San Franciscan has failed to walk past a shop window in the Mission and admire the calavera figurines: skeletons dressed up in ordinary clothes and conspicuously involved in the most quotidian human affairs.

Mission Cultural Center for Latino Arts' "Bring Back the Dead" honors two nineteenth-century Mexican printmakers, José Guadalupe Posada and Manuel Manilla, whose work came to be associated with Día de los Muertos. The two created thousands of illustrations for news broadsides and other editorial publications, and often used calavera images to satirize current events and public figures. The exhibition serves as a memoriam for the artists and a nod to their artistic contribution -- Mexican artists like Diego Rivera and Jose Clemente Orozco were fond of citing Posada as an inspiration -- and features many of the original calavera images from these broadsides. Tonight's gala reception also includes a mask-making demonstration by Felipe Horta, sugar skull techniques by Miguel Quintana, and a competition among the vast array of altars erected in the gallery.($5, 6 p.m.-10:30 p.m.)

For more daily and weekly picks, visit SF Weekly's featured calendar picks.

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Since taking up the sitar in the late 1930s, Indian musician Ravi Shankar has released more than 40 albums, composed for film director Satyajit Ray, collaborated with Ali Akbar Khan and Philip Glass, and taught George Harrison everything he knew about the complicated instrument. His private life has been no less adventurous, as he fathered children by several wives and mistresses, giving the world the soft-pop singer-songwriter Norah Jones and sitar player Anoushka Shankar. The latter has brought Indian music to a new audience by collaborating with electronica producers Thievery Corporation and Karsh Kale, as well as performing with her father on numerous occasions, including the 2002 memorial for Harrison, The Concert for George.

Tonight's show features performances by Ravi and Anoushka, separately and together. Fans should snap up tickets, as this may be one of the last chances to see the 89-year-old master perform his transcendental music in a local setting. (Davies Symphony Hall, $30-$90).

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"Jonathan Lethem's last two novels -- 2003's Fortress of Solitude and 2007's You Don't Love Me Yet -- steered away from the sci-fi leanings of his early work. The talking kangaroos, post-apocalyptic telepaths, and alien hermaphrodites were replaced by flying children and mysteriously endowed songwriters. Okay, so pretty much everything the one-time local author concocts has some element of magic to it.

Lethem's latest opus, Chronic City, is no different, offering up chocolate-scented fog, an unseen tiger that destroys whole buildings, and ancient "chaldrons" that may or may not serve as portals to other planes of existence. Even though it's set entirely in Manhattan, the book sprawls like a bored teenager, spilling profundities and confusions like so many Cheetos. Lethem delights, as always, in language, coming up with goofy names, brilliant metaphors, and absurd cultural jokes.

Lethem has mentioned that Chronic City was influenced by Saul Bellow, Philip K. Dick, Charles Finney, and Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo, which is only one of many things that could use further explanation when he's interviewed by Paul Lancour tonight at as part of the City Arts & Lectures series at Herbst Theatre (8 p.m., $20)" -- Dan Strachota