Blondie
The Wiltern Theatre
November 18

Coo-coo-ca-choo, Ms. Harry! When rock chanteuse Deborah Harry took the stage for a greatest hits extravaganza of all that was Blondie, she made me wish I were Dustin Hoffman to her Ms. Robinson. Or at least the victim of a little tadpoling.

Looking as ravishing as Tina Turner, but with a blonde pixie do, she opted for a beat-up blue wife-beater, an ass-hugging silver skirt and matching jacket. The fashion might have been white trash, but with her take-no-prisoners aura, her rapturous voice and her alluring dancing, she was all diva through and through.

Harry prowled, scowled and crooned though the classics like "The Tide is High," "Rapture," and "Heart of Glass," but the hour-and-45-minute set also showcased how this tighter-than-her-skirt band perfected some of the finest pop-rock of the ‘80s.

She started out slow, taking in the screams the crowd gave as she posed and pranced. But when the rhythm section kicked in on driving tunes like "One Way or Another," or "Hanging on the Telephone." she started flailing her arms, spinning in circles and transporting the crowd back to Blondie’s old stomping grounds of CBGB's back in NYC.

For their second (that’s right, you wimpy Rolling Stones, SECOND) encore, Harry dedicated a song "to the deeply departed." Out came those power chords of their old Big Apple buds the Ramones and a blistering rendition of "Pet Semetary."

The lyrics of the song declare, "I don’t want to live my live again," but for this full-moon night at one of L.A.’s classic venues, I didn’t mind feeling like I was fifteen again——sitting in my bedroom making an album cover of Parallel Lines dance on my lap.

When a woman with the commanding presence of Harry can get your loins fiery at that age just by telling you to call her, you know that you’ll do it for her anytime…anytime…even over a decade later.

——Greg Reifsteck

Boxcar Racer
Taking Back Sunday
The Used/H2O
The Wiltern Theatre
November 23

I can’t tell you what I think of Taking Back Sunday, thanks to my ever-lagging self for taking two hours to get ready, but they must have been awesome. Chris Warner of the post-hardcore band A Music Box Serenade said, "That’s fucked up!" (about five times) when he found out I had missed them.

The Used is my new favorite band! Just hours after performing at 5^th Annual Cypress Hill Smokeout, "where everyone was far too stoned to enjoy the music," singer Bert McCracken still had enough emotion and energy left to jump up and down during every song, break a major sweat, and impress me far more than their all-too-emo album ever has! I even sang along to that radio hit, "The Taste of Ink," and risked looking like a dork.

H2O is definitely a Warped Tour band in the sense that their punk rockin’ energy is far too big to be contained by the walls of The Wiltern. Whether you were inside watching or outside getting some fresh air, you could hear every syllable of songs like "Role Model," and DAMN, there was a lot of that slam dancing going on!

Now, Boxcar Racer is definitely not your average Blink 182-esque pop ensemble. Who knew that Tom Delonge could sound fantastic live, and without the type of help that Britney Spears uses during her concerts? Boxcar Racer has a more serious tone, and they are undoubtedly serious about music. However, the spotlight remained on the unmatched skills of drummer extraordinaire Travis Barker. The band relied on him to make their set longer because, according to Tom, "We don’t know any more songs, fuckers!" Overall, I was moved, especially by their rendition of Barry Manilow’s "Mandy!"

–EszterTakacs

CHEAP CHICK
(with the Glossiness, Magneatos, Trinkets)
They Want You to Want Them
BY GREG REIFSTECK

I’m a guy from the Midwest who loves Cheap Trick. Nothing makes my Chicago-born and bred musical heart thumb harder than hearing the opening onslaught of Springfield’s greatest band doing their "Ladies and Gentleman, are you ready to rock!" pomp pop rock circumstance.

After a day at the movies watching Michelle Rodriguez and Kate Bosworth in bikinis, surfboarding for the greater good, my testosterone was pumping overtime, and ready to "Surrender" myself to the first invasion of Cheap Chick.

Pamita of the Neptunas came up with a wicked gender twist on what could have just been another experiment in tribute band blandness. But, instead the Chick pounded out a pleasing 20-minute powerhouse preview at the Garage on the final humid-as-Hades Saturday night of August. It started the Labor Day weekend with a memorable performance that surely languished in my hangover until Monday.

A concept hatched merely weeks ago while stuck in a traffic jam, these gals had their regalia down and their attitude firmly planted on their sleeves. Fans of Cheap Trick even had their uniforms on in the form of old tour tees and crumpled caps. Melanie Coffee of the Excessories belted out the rockin’ Robin Zander croons, Rifka "Rachelle" Arslan of the Magneatos axed out the Rick Nielsen riffs, Pamita handled the bass and Tonya Janes of the Devells did her best Bun E. back on the drums. (Love the fake cigarette, Tonya! The perfect touch.)

"Come on, Come On" whet the appetite of the teased crowd, who instead of getting the hits got the B-sides with some more obscure cuts. On "Southern Girls," the gals really got cooking, pulling out all the stops and just running with it. But when you want to get a crowd off, you can’t get them off right out of the box, and to assure they’ll come back for more action, sometimes you need to leave them wanting more big hits next time.

All in all, the performance was fierce; a pleasing mix between old classic rock kitsch and tribute band swagger, pulled off flawlessly with both their costumes and their sneering "we love this music" attitude.

Speaking of those who like all-gal rock, the opening bands were a usual Pamita-promoted Hungry Man dinner of all the major music food groups.

Openers the Glossines were charismatic as an episode of Beverly Hills 90210 with a peppering of Sleater-Kinney. Lots of angst, and effort, but some of the songs were just too simmeringly sweet.

The speed got picked up damn quick with the Magneatos, with Rachelle warming up her guitar insanity for the later Chick assault. With a pulverizing backbeat and oddly-named tunes, she wailed out a set that took no prisoners.

After coming back up for air, the audience took in a very reliable set from the Trinkets, this time minus the Hawaiian get-ups they had at their International Pop Overthrow gig at Derby. At least at the Derby we could hear the vocals, since the Garage sound mix isn’t too kind to the pipes. Thank goodness I remembered all the words to their double entendre-spiced ditties, which at times float you back to the better times of ‘60s and ‘70s pop. At others, they remind you that Hollywood is a dark, dark place, but in a tongue and cheeky sort of way.

Cheap Chick can be checked out on the web at www.cheapchick.com, and don’t miss their next gig at Zen Sushi in exotic downtown Silverlake on October 19, with the Blondes, Peachfuzz, the marvelous Magneatos and the winner for best band name of the month——Slow Motorcade. Five bucks gets you a sexier night than any Blue Crush can deliver.

Clinic
The Troubadour
March 19

The hands go up at every show, clutching cameras, snapping away. Why, I sometimes ask myself, do people take these photos? Apparently there’s a big demand for poorly-framed pictures of bands in dimly-lit clubs. But when the cameras came out in even greater numbers than usual during Clinic’s hour-long set, I started to see the appeal: the Liverpool fivesome, clad in full surgical scrubs complete with face masks, were pretty darn photogenic. I couldn’t help thinking that in this case, a souvenir photo really would be useful, if only to prove to skeptical friends that such an odd act really exists.

The "can you believe these guys?" factor is essential for building buzz among the hipster crowd Clinic is courting, and so they’re trying hard to come off as wacky eccentrics. It’s working wonders, and certainly it would have been harder for them to pack the Troubadour, for instance, if their stage apparel were limited to t-shirts and flannel. But close your eyes a minute, and you’ll start to notice that the weird instrument they pull out for "Mr. Moonlight," the one that looks sort of like a breathalyzer, a blood pressure machine, and a Casio keyboard rolled into one, really doesn’t sound all that different from your standard harmonica. And "Walking With Thee" is basically a ? and the Mysterians song, with its great organ part and mindless song structure. And that dull stretch three-quarters of the way through the set? That sure wasn’t the sound of a bunch of mad musical geniuses. That was the sound of the audience’s large collective yawn.

Sure, Clinic has the stamp of approval from Radiohead, who had them open on a recent tour. And yes, the Kid A-flavored production on the new album works well on a handful of tracks, and translates nicely to a live setting. And yeah, they are dressed like plastic surgeons. But gravity always wins, and when it comes down to it, Clinic is basically a garage band with a great gimmick. This is not to put them down – good party guests enjoy hearing the Nuggets box far more than they do Insomniac – but when your buddy shows you that photo he took of Clinic last week and says that you’ve gotta check ’em out, just know what you’re getting into. You’ll probably like it, actually, but they might not be quite what you expect.

– Steven Hanna

ROCK AND ROLL ARIAS
Elvis Costello and the Imposters
Kodak Theater
May 30

In recent years, Elvis Costello has cultivated an image as a Singer with a capital S, packing on the pounds and wrapping his throat like an opera star, recording albums with classical groups and jazz bands, and going off-mike at concerts in order to test the power of his lungs. Touring behind his new When I Was Cruel, however, he’s returned to the rock fold, trimming down a bit, dusting off some of the less-dignified screeds from his back catalog, and occasionally spitting his lyrics rather than crooning them. It’s an absolute thrill to see him backed by the Imposters——basically, his fabled Attractions with a new bassist——thrashing through tunes like the snotty punk rocker he’s always been, all within the elegant confines of the Kodak Theater.

But then maybe the folks seated in the opera boxes lining the Kodak’s walls weren’t entirely taken aback by what they were hearing. Costello has retained a lot of the highbrow vocal polish he’s acquired since the last time he rocked out, and on many of the tunes——notably the stunning bridge to "All the Rage" midset——he showed off how skilled a trained singer can be with a sneering punk song. Moreover, his new material, which sat very well in the middle of a set list drawn heavily from Blood and Chocolate, seems built to show off the strength of his cords. Indeed, he seemed to trip from time to time over his older lyrics, such as those to "I Don’t Want to Go to Chelsea," which were written by a younger man less concerned about leaving spaces for Singers with a capital S to breathe. But he made a pretty fine case for "Little Triggers" and "I Want You" being little rock and roll arias, well worthy of the Kodak’s lofty setting, and it seems Elvis’s crooner years are yielding rich dividends.

——Steven Hanna

The 5th Annual
Cypress Hill Smoke Out
The L.A. Coliseum
November 23

The line-up for this year’s Cypress Hill Smoke Out was the most diverse in its five-year history. Among the headlining bands were punk godfathers the Circle Jerks, metal upstarts Adema and Taproot, hip-hop vets Snoop Dogg and Everlast, and of course, event founders Cypress Hill

Diversity is the key to this festival’s success, and it was reflected in the audience as well. Stoners from all walks of life were in attendance, from prehistoric hippies to ravers and ballers to metalheads and punk kids of both the old- and new-school varieties. Solid performances from each of the headliners and especially from the second stage line-ups made this twelve-hour event a stoner’s paradise.

The Circle Jerks pummeled through an amazing set of hardcore and old-school political punk angst. Taproot and Adema brought along the nu-metal vibe; the former worked their Korn-fed sound, while the latter mixed their Alice in Chain-style tunes with a clear-cut sense of melody.

Cypress Hill played behind a giant Buddha, a 6-foot bong, and grooved with 25, 000 of their closest friends in the audience. The newly sober Snoop Dogg closed the main stage show and got the crowd bouncing with a set of old school classics and newer material.

Emo-metal was in full force on the side stages. Poison the Well’s angry yet beautiful mix of hardcore and emo meshed well with Finch’s angrier punk/hardcore. Mudvayne was a last-minute no-show, but L.A.’s best-kept secret, Bad Acid Trip, more than filled their shoes. Their brutal death-metal-meets-thrash had a genuine might and edge that Mudvayne has only suggested on record and in performance.

Everlast and surprise guests Bone Thugs-N-Harmony provided softer urban poetry, mixed with hip-hop and folk guitar. A special tribute to the late Jam Master Jay of Run-DMC was a sobering reminder of the weight of his loss to the music community , and the crowd showed its solidarity.

On the mini stage, L.A.’s best tribute bands rocked out for eager nostalgists. The all-female Iron Maidens made the biggest impression as they brought together male and female metalheads alike to raise hell in the pit. Led Zeppagain, Which One’s Pink, and Wild Child each provided classic rock tributes.

Over all, the musical diversity, the good food, the party atmosphere, and of course, the smoke made this year’s Smoke Out a hell of a good time. If it weren’t for the long lines for munchies and restrooms, it would have been the ultimate stoner heaven.

——Alex Distefano

Dashboard Confessional
Ben Kweller/Legends of Rodeo
House of Blues Sunset Strip
March 11

The four band, three-and-a-half hour concert opened with Legends of Rodeo. Their music is a red-blooded, Midwestern tribute to rock ’n’ roll. These guys are part of the continuing evolution of American rock music and its faithful love affair with the electric guitar. Next up was Ben Kweller, a young, playfully irreverent singer/songwriter. He opened with an acoustic version of Vanilla Ice’s "Ice Ice Baby" and then dove into a wide array of catchy college pop-rock that resembles songs by his namesakes Ben Lee and Ben Folds. Kweller was followed by Anniversary’s bland assortment of rudimentary and tweaked-out noise. Dressed in rayon and polyester, they epitomize the very reason the ’70s is a decade many would rather forget – senseless excessiveness without style or purpose.

After a lengthy delay, Christopher Carraba stepped rather unassumingly onstage. Carraba, who is and isn’t all of Dashboard Confessional – in the same way that Trent Reznor is and isn’t all of Nine Inch Nails – insists that his audience sing along during his concerts. The show was a communal exercise in the purging of some heavy male emotions. Carraba’s musical background in punk infuses his acoustic set with the kind of intensity you’d expect from a man whose arm is crowded with tattoos. Dashboard Confessional hits a chord with young men that resonates as deeply and genuinely as Alanis Morissette’s "You Oughta Know" did for jilted young women seven years ago. Somehow though, it seems as if Carrabas is unloading an even heavier set of emotional baggage, and the scope of his fans is wider and less gender-specific than Morissette’s. His music is impassioned and unrelenting. His words come straight from his gut and connect with a tender spot in his audience that moves them to scream back his lyrics. I have never seen anything like it – fans so completely devoted to honoring the artist who unwittingly created a religion for many of them.

"It’s unbelievable, guys, how far you’ve taken us," Carraba said during the first half of his performance.

A rare two-night booking at the House of Blues is evidence of Dashboard Confessional’s increasing momentum and its exploding fanbase. Word of mouth has carried the band across the country, and stories of fans driving for days just to try to get into his shows have amplified the buzz around the band. Performances like this only ensure that Christopher Carraba has yet to see the full impact of Dashboard Confessional.

– Jose Lustre

Andy Dick
and the Bitches of the Century

The name Andy "Dick" took on a whole new meaning to me after seeing his performance at the Key Club one magical Thursday night. Besides seeing Andy’s scrotum get shaved live on stage, there was everything I had hoped there’d be, and more. Fat men, drunk men, fat drunk men, vomiting (twice), funny banter, politically-incorrect insults of public figures, humping, and the ever popular figure (especially with my date), Naked Heather. Moseying on stage 50 minutes late, Andy began the evening by getting puked on by a sweaty, obese, obviously inebriated man who had shuffled up from the audience. Though obviously staged, this introductory humor was not lost on the bizarre blend of concertgoers. This attractive cousin of Fat Bastard turned out to be none other than Paul, the most vocally talented "bitch" on stage who spent the evening lounging on a black leather couch with a microphone and Naked Heather.

After disappearing for another 20 minutes to change his barf-saturated shirt, Andy came back to put on a tediously funny show (the best kind of humor) making audience members both wince and shit themselves laughing. His act consisted of bits of offensive humor breaking up ludicrous musical numbers, such as the 20-minute rendition of "Little Brown Ring." Scatological humor was more than just a motif of the evening, with poop popping up in every place possible (in the jokes I mean--that’s just gross!). It was hard to pay attention to Andy, however, with Naked Heather flashing her perfect breasts and tattoos at the audience while cuddling up cozy-like next to fat Paul on a couch. Her role seemed, very appropriately, to simply be the naked and hot girl and hang out on stage. Yes ladies and gentlemen, Andy is an entertainment genius.

So after making fun of Steven Hawking for being lazy, having Paul vomit a second time down his pants, and inviting the audience to suck his "tired, red, inflamed nipple, which lactates," Andy had pretty much covered all the bases of inane, blasphemous humor. The enchanted evening ended with Andy coming on stage dressed as a blonde go-go dancer, and getting violently humped from behind. Really, one couldn’t ask for a more entertaining night of insanity. Unless of-course you have a fragile stomach, a conscience, or standards. (Not me!)

—Lesley Bargar

Dillinger Escape Plan
The Roxy
October 4

Riding high on the attention garnered by its latest release, Irony is a Dead Scene, the Dillinger Escape Plan delivered loud and hard at its sold-out performance at the Roxy. Irony, which featured contributing vocalist Mike Patton, caused quite the stir in the metal scene, increasing DEP’s fan base and widening the band’s appeal at a time when experimental metal is largely overlooked by the general record-buying public.

DEP took the stage after a lengthy list of opening acts, including Stun, S.H.A.T, Your Enemies Friends, and The Icarus Line. Stun and Your Enemies Friends were at best forgettable, while the Icarus Line made a solid attempt to invoke ‘70s-era East Coast panic rock in front of a decidedly distracted crowd. S.H.A.T, dressed in dirty diapers and dildos, won the crowd over with pure shock value. Finally, several hours later, DEP gave the audience what it came for——a good pummeling. The New Jersey-based band unleashed testosterone-induced intensity throughout their set, though at times the music lost its complex edge and came across as haphazard noise. As the band’s most recent addition, frontman Greg Puciato (who replaced Dimitri Minakakis in 2000) brings a fresh yet fierce charisma to the lineup. Puciato sealed the night with a fiery kiss when he brought a flaming torch onstage and proceeded to spew fire over the entire pit. Adrenaline rushes had by all.

——Erin Broadley

Marianne Faithfull
UCLA Royce Hall
December 1

Marianne Faithfull was showered in roses and greeted with a standing ovation as she walked on stage at a recent and rare Los Angeles performance presented by UCLA Live. The vibrant duchess of art-rock welcomed her audience smiling, and launched into her 90-minute set with a cover of the 1964 Herman’s Hermits song "I’m Into Something Good," one of the tracks on Faithfull’s most recent album, 2002’s Kissin Time (Virgin). With a career spanning nearly 40 years, Faithfull has mastered the use of drama to intensify her stage presence, somewhat like that of a cabaret singer. As a result, her signature vocal delivery is remarkably more personal, focused and strongly felt in the live environment than on her records. A majority of Faithfull’s live set included songs from her 1979 album Broken English ("Why’d Ya Do It," "The Ballad of Lucy Jordan" and the title track "Broken English") as well as songs off Kissin Time ("Like Being Born," "Sliding Through Life on Charm," "Nobody’s Fault," "Kissin Time" and "Song for Nico," introduced by Faithfull with a personal anecdote about the late singer). Further highlights included her potent rendition of John Lennon’s "Working Class Hero," which masterfully demonstrated Faithfull’s skill as an interpretive vocalist. Though nearly every song was a success, Faithfull was at her best during the raw and sultry "Kissin Time" (written with Blur’s Damon Albarn) and the fierce tale of a scorned lover, "Why’d Ya Do It." One thing is certain, Faithfull has still got her spark and her charisma. A memorable performance indeed.

–Erin Broadly

The Flaming Lips
Knitting Factory
July 17

If you’ve only heard their hit song "She Don’t Use Jelly" or any of their recorded music, for that matter (including their new album, the wonderfully titled Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots), you probably think that Oklahoma City’s Flaming Lips wouldn’t be a great live band. After all, most of the groups in the space-indie-experimental-rock genre that’s begrudgingly as close as the Lips come to categorization are sad sacks onstage, moping and occasionally rocking, panache-less, with a few scattered "thank you’s" in between rote renditions of their good-to-great songs.

And then there are the Flaming Lips, who seem to remember that just because you’ve got an ironic sense of humor doesn’t mean that you can’t have a sincerely good time.

Before the group even walked onstage, their mascot-dressed stagehands (one a rabbit, the other a bear) were tossing confetti-filled balloons into the packed club. As they’d pop, little white circles rained down on the audience; the welcome hail continued through the band’s triumphant set. It’s the pyro for poor men, but it worked better than sheets of fire ever could; the confetti was an invitation for audience involvement, and proof of the band’s camaraderie with their fans.

Throughout the night, frontman Wayne Coyne worked the crowd with fake blood, song-specific public-domain videos and hearing-impairing sing-alongs, but his sheer joy that his band could sell out this small club was what won everyone in attendance over. By just being happy about playing, the Flaming Lips managed to deliver the best club show so far this year.

–Jeff Miller

TAKING FLIGHT

Doves, one of the prime exponents of the post-Radiohead U.K. rock sound, recently treated a packed crowd at the Mayan to selections from their impressive new album The Last Broadcast. Doves’ career has really been gathering momentum as of late–the trio’s past few tours have been sell-outs, and Last Broadcast was an instant chart-topper on the U.K. charts. Though the group still displays a few weaknesses (they lack a commanding vocal presence, for starters), their sophomore album is a formidable collection of majestic, anthemic guitar rock. They delivered a passionate performance at the Mayan, and seemed to enjoy being there as much as the audience did.

While the band now stands firmly in rock territory, they haven’t forgotten their roots in the ’90s dance scene. The more energetic numbers of the evening, like should-be hit singles "Pounding" and "Words," potently harnessed the euphoric power of the best modern dance music. Another high point of the set was the driving "Catch the Sun," from their first album, Lost Souls.

Opening the show were fellow Brits Elbow, who mine a similar musical seam as the headliners. Lead singer Guy Garvey is a reassuring presence up front, looking more like a bloke you’d bump into at the pub than a pop star. The band’s set of atmospheric, mid-tempo songs was most effective during the hypnotic opener "Any Day Now" and the climactic epic "Newborn."

——Michael Jolly

The Faint
@The Troubadour, October 4

Rock ’n’ roll has been speckled over the years with misnamed bands. The Police. Ben Folds Five. Blues Traveler. Add Nebraska’s The Faint to that list – as the new new wave/electrified ruffians have proven with their first three releases (this fall’s Danse Macabre being the latest example), there’s nothing flimsy, reserved or quiet about them. Even moreso in their live performances, the collective promote an in-your-face, in-your-(dance) shoes attitude that can in no way be construed as "faint."

Preceded by Now It’s Overhead – also a member of Saddle Creek’s booming roster, though less inventive and more toned-down – the Faint took the stage to a packed house ready for some hip-movin’ fun. Few would’ve expected, however, the evening’s final outcome – a transformed crowd that hopped onstage to dance along with the band for their final number. It was, well, so not Hollywood for dozens of uninhibited souls to make the daring move and take concert interaction to the next level. And as tour attendance has faltered in recent weeks, even more delight was had in seeing the spectacle. Probably the greatest irony of the evening, though, arrived in the fact that it took five guys from the unlikeliest of cities, Omaha, to demonstrate to the L.A. hipsters what good music and a good show is all about.

Sans their usual audacious outfits (they wore black instead), the Faint took the stage like the bastard children of Devo – stolid, unemotional faces; tubular, bony bodies; shaggy mops of raven hair. With two synthesizer players (singer Todd Baechle, Jacob Thiele), a guitarist (Mike Dappen), bassist (Joel Petersen) and drummer (Clark Baechle) on board, the band struck the perfect chord between rock and dance music, challenging any vets in the audience still cheering "Fuck Disco" to reevaluate their opinions.

Each song the act delivered – even new ones like "Your Retro Career Melted," "Glass Danse World," "Posed to Death" and "Agenda Suicide" – earned instant applause, as the mostly college crowd broke quickly into head bobbing and sing-a-longs. The fog machines blasted, creating a dense layer through which Baechle windmilled his arms and contorted about the stage. It was almost eerie how perfect the band duplicated their album sounds live, but even more so how well the Troubadour captured it; acoustics often fall short at the club.

The Faint is comprised of men in black. Men in black playing punk-inspired dance music. Men in black playing punk-inspired dance music determined to rock your buttcheeks off. And they didn’t fail the Troubadour crowd on this night.
–Kurt Orzeck

Foo Fighters
The Wiltern Theater
October 22

The Foo Fighters came to chip the paint off the newly restored Wiltern Theater by throwing one hell of a kick-off party for their new album, One By One. Dave Grohl’s voice was in top form, easily navigating both the gentle melodies and fierce screams that is a common blueprint for many of the Foo’s songs.

After a recent stint with Queens of the Stone Age, Grohl looks at home in front of the Foo Fighters again. He led bandmates Nate Mendel (bass), Chris Shiflett (guitar) and Taylor Hawkins (drums) through hits from The Colour and The Shape as well as just about every song from One By One, starting with the first single, "All My Life." The set list expanded to include Times Like These" (which Grohl admitted it was the "most favorite song I’ve ever written) and "Low," then reached back to tap "Learn To Fly," "Hero," and "Breakout."

The Foo Fighters have a reputation for being one of the best live bands around, and their show at the Wiltern definitely proved that. Hawkins' perfect rock rhythm was mesmerizing, and Grohl’s biting wit, woven between some truly great songs, made for a damn good rock show. Make no mistake: the Foo Fighters are back and they’ve never sounded better.

——Mari Fong

ROYAL GARBAGE

Somewhere in the wasteland of junk pop lies a brilliantly concocted anomaly called Garbage. When they're dumped on stage, they can only do one thing: pervert depraved pop to sheer perfection. Expect nothing more and you'll still be guaranteed a bombastic ride, with front woman Shirley Manson behind the wheel.
Openers Abandoned Pools unleashed their own pop-tormented tunes, which agreed well with the audience. Led by classically trained Tommy Walter of Eels, the band resembles a refurbished Smashing Pumpkins, with detached guitarist Pelle Hillstrom, drummer Bryan Head and bassist Leah Randi, whose blonde dreadlocks flung about in her graceful seizures. The band performed eight melancholy, episodic tracks from their debut, including "The Remedy," "Mercy Kiss," "L.V.B.D" and a vengeful, indie-tuned cover of Björk's "Army of Me."

Soon after, Shirley Manson was ready to rule in her wife beater, army pants and a strikingly platinum Annie Lennox do. The stage was her throne, band mates Steve Marker, Duke Erikson, their traveling bassist and Matt Chamberlain (who replaced the irreplaceable Butch Vig) were her skillful servants and the audience her people. Garbage started off hard with their most ambitious tunes from Version 2.0, "Push It," the spellbinding B-side "#1 Crush," "Paranoid" and "Special." The crowd indulged in democratic disorder, some grooving to the tainted melodies and others head-banging to Marker and Erikson’s vindictive guitar jives, but all fixated on a fierce Manson whose pink boa was nowhere in sight. She sneered in "Not My Idea", "Shut Your Mouth" and "Stupid Girl," and crooned longingly through trip-hop moments in "Cup of Coffee" and "Milk." Older, dirtier tunes "Vow," "Supervixen" and the anthem for the depressed, "Only Happy When It Rains," closed as the encore. But in the final moments, Manson demanded her people to raise their arms and uniformly clap at the driving rhythms, finishing the night on her command. Of course.

——Minnie Chi

ROCKING IN MODERATION

It's all about the rock revival nowadays. Most bands seem to be embracing this newfound love of fast riffs and distorted vocals, but the Get Up Kids don't seem to want to hear it. Like their Vagrant Records labelmates Dashboard Confessional, they’ve developed into a band that returned to their pop roots. This was more than evident at their show at the House of Blues Hollywood, which focused on songs from their recent album On a Wire.

The Get Up Kids started their set with a slow, almost sing-along version of "Let the Reigns Go Loose." The sold-out crowd seemed surprised that the show was starting on such a mellow note, but didn’t look disappointed with the performance. What followed was an approximately hour-long set that consisted of more new songs than old. Lead singer Matt Pryor seemed revved up, but couldn’t quite give the show the lift it needed to over come the soft, melodic approach to even their faster songs ("Mass Pike," "Action and Action"). Guitarist Jim Suptic occasionally took over lead vocals, which added more muscle to the material, but the most energetic member of the group was clearly keyboardist James Dewees. He bounced along to every noticeable or unnoticeable beat, and made every song sound livelier.

While their show was more a testament to sit-down arena rock, there’s hope yet for those who want a band to rock your shoes off——it just won’t be the Get Up Kids.

Opening the showcase was Vagrant labelmates Hot Rod Circuit, who delivered a somewhat more entertaining set. Although their bass player was slightly inebriated, the energetic antics of guitarist Casey Prestwood overcame the lack of showmanship. Former Old 97s member Rhett followed with a slew of rousing folk-like songs, which were enjoyable, but lulled the crowd into a hush until the Get Up Kids took the stage.

——Connie Tran

OHIO PLAYERS

Captain Robert Pollard marched his trusty Guided by Voices into the House of Blues Sunset Strip, armed with new material and one mission: resurrecting rock and roll. He and his Ohio-based mates succeeded, offering up rough and silky nuggets from nearly every phase of GBV's recorded history. From the just-released Universal Truths and Cycles came the beer bottle-raising "Eureka Signs" and the quirky, buzzing "Car Language"; from their 2001 disc Isolation Drills, the melodic "The Brides Have Hit Glass"; from the group's watershed effort Bee Thousand ("hold your tongue and say 'Pete Townshend,'" explained Pollard about the odd album title, and everyone in the audience did) came "Hardcore UFOs" and the singalong "I Am a Scientist"; from the prolific Pollard's solo repertoire came the charging "I Drove a Tank." These guys are such road warriors, it was little surprise they sounded tight overall (longtime guitarist Doug Gillard deserves a lot of credit), but there was enough rawness to the presentation to keep it real. That honesty is obviously appreciated by the band's faithful, a large portion of whom broke into a good-natured mosh pit that didn't even rest during the ballads. It was bizarre. It was glorious. It was GBV.

Louisville, Kentucky quartet My Morning Jacket opened the evening with a set of heavy tunes that came off like folk squeezed through the prism of metal. A bunch of longhairs, they offered a riff-laden yet harmonious concoction that was appreciated by the early-arriving GBV fans.

— Eric Layton

BELOVED INVADERS
The Hives

When was the last time rock ‘n roll was fun? The melancholy early ‘90s grunge rock a la Nirvana brought a new vibe to music–angst, sadness and the mosh pit. It’s difficult to recall a time where the people in the crowd were clapping, bobbing their heads, and dancing. But all that has changed. All that can be said is: God bless the Hives and their egos.

The buzz on the Hives has been incredible. And the buzz at their second headlining L.A. date was out of control. Everyone from No Doubt bassist Tony Kanal to Sean Lennon and Kelly Osbourne to L.A.’s own Rodney Bingenheimer came out to see what these Swedes had to offer.

The quintet of 20-something boys that started off as teens in their garage are now off and running in the U.S.A. ten years later. Setting the tone for the action packed evening was the Mooney Suzuki, essentially an Americanized version of the Hives. Dressed entirely in black, the energized foursome’s magnificent live set featuring leaps from speaker to speaker, drum kit stands and sharing the profuse beads of sweat over the crowd of adoring fans below the small Roxy stage.

The Mooney Suzuki is a tough act to follow, but the Hives handled the challenge with fierce tenacity from the moment the crimson velvet curtain went up. Backed by an enormous lighted sign touting "THE HIVES," the self-promoting troupe played a furious forty-five-minute set to an over-packed (luckily, the fire marshal didn’t show up) crowd.

There was no lack of enthusiasm on stage or from the crowd as the Hives blasted through songs from their latest release, Vini Vidi Vicious, including "Hate to Say I Told You So" and "Main Offender" as well as others from their debut, Barely Legal, such as "Hail Hail Spit N' Drool" and "AKA I-D-I-O-T."

Although all the songs all run in the same punkish garage rock vein, the evening passed in a blink of an eye. A rocking time was had by all.

——Christine Anne Long

Lambchop
Knitting Factory
March 17

"I’ve never heard Los Angeles so quiet," commented Kurt Wagner midway through Lambchop’s two-hour Knitting Factory set. He was referring to the small, respectful crowd – the more boisterous Lambchop fans had been siphoned off by All Tomorrow’s Parties across town – but he could just as easily have been talking about his own band. Playing mostly material from the new Is a Woman, Wagner and the five players he brought with him on tour filled the room with such subdued, soulful sounds that the guy next to me found himself shushed several times for drinking too loudly. Try though he did, he couldn’t stop the ice in his glass from rattling around, but it was his own fault for drinking the wrong drink for this show. Lambchop is not about anything on the rocks — their music is straight, smooth, and smoky.

Wagner isn’t known for his catchy hooks or poppy choruses – you could have nodded off for a song or two and not even noticed – but from the opening strains of "The Daily Growl," his band took deliberate, firm control of the room, like a school principal who gets his students’ attention by becoming very quiet. Pianist Tony Crow deserves special credit for laying down the lovely textures that made "My Blue Wave" into the saddest, prettiest thing you’ll ever hear on Hollywood Boulevard. And when the band mixed it up a little, reaching back in its catalogue to give Wagner’s falsetto a workout with "Nashville Parent," a glance around the room revealed nothing but smiles. No one was dancing or stomping or shrieking in rapture, but everyone in the audience seemed to know he was lucky to be there. Next time around, if you’re lucky, you’ll be there too.

– Steven Hanna

Lit/The Color Red/Lefty
House of Blues Anaheim
August 9

Amidst a ‘50s vibe of swirling lights and floating bubbles, Lit hit the stage hard from the start with "Ziplock" and "Lipstick and Bruises". Having been together seemingly forever (as bass player Kevin Baldes told vocalist A. Jay Popoff, "I knew you before you had any hair on your dick"), Lit’s natural camaraderie added to the good feelings that flowed through their music. It was fun seeing lead singer A. Jay shake a plastic star-shaped tambourine during "Down," or Baldes blowing fire across the stage, or lead guitarist Jeremy Popoff performing a guitar solo while drinking a beer. Lowbrow antics mixed with solid pop-rock make for good entertainment, and the fans singing relished every moment. After A. Jay took off his shirt to reveal his "Stained" tattoo (the band’s original moniker), Baldes came out wearing a black, shiny bra for their encore, which included their mega-hit, "My Own Worst Enemy." The boys ended the show with their infamous rock pyramid, with members of The Color Red, Lefty and Handsome Devil onstage to lend support.

Opening for Lit was Dirty Martini labelmate The Color Red, anxious to show the crowd their mix of songs from their debut album, Clear, which features "Sore Throat," a melodic screamfest that has hit written all over it. Also opening was Lefty, a hard-hitting rock band that exploded onto the stage with songs from their album 4-3-2-1 and their newest

Nelly Furtado/Citizen Cope
@Wiltern Theate,
February 11

There are few acts that can attract a crowd as eclectic as Nelly Furtado can. But considering her album Whoa, Nelly! – which is up for four Grammy nominations – draws musical cues from Brazil, Portugal and India and mixes hip-hop, pop and electronic music, perhaps seeing a crowd of ravers and yuppies sitting next to each other isn’t all too surprising.

Citizen Cope opened with an eight-song set of mostly heavy narratives sung in a deadpan drawl. The music is thickly laced with phat, to sublime to downright gorgeous beats, and his lyrics – while at times aimless and repetitive – seem rooted in a place of emotional earnestness. Even a song as titularly optimistic as "If There’s Love" is still wistful. ("If there’s love, I just want something to do with it.") Simply, it’s music to chill to. There is a place for Citizen Cope’s music – perhaps low-key bars or college dorms late Thursday nights – but not with an audience of teenage girls itching to sing "I’m Like a Bird."

Compared to Citizen Cope’s stripped-down performance, Nelly Furtado arrived on stage in a neon explosion: blacklit, strobelit and dressed in day glow-splattered jeans. She is the last surviving member of Jem and the Holograms, a 1980s kid exposed to a vibrant spectrum of music and hell-bent on leaving a trail of soap bubbles and sparkly stuff behind her. If you spot Nelly Furtado, you aren’t too far from a party. If you were at the Wiltern on this night, you had yourself a pretty good one.

Backed by a 7-piece band, Nelly Furtado’s 15-song panoply of lilting bossa nova grooves and electronic beats was accompanied by her trademark English/Portuguese/and even Hindi singing. She managed to bring on stage the kind of diverse profusion of sound and utter lust for life that have attracted critics and fans to Whoa, Nelly! Even the ubiquitous "I’m Like A Bird" and "Turn Off the Light" were infused with an irrepressible verve.

During a second interlude, the band played a medley that included Bell Biv Devoe’s "Poison" and Kris Kross’s "Jump." Furtado rushed on stage to rap "Mama said Knock You Out" before paying homage to an artist whom she considers a heavy influence.

"I used to sing this song all the time in my room," Furtado said, before covering Mary J. Blige’s "Real Love."

"…On the Radio (Remember the Days)," the latest single from Whoa Nelly!, is a confession about selling out and loyalty and in which Furtado defends herself against dissers and critics alike. She proclaims honesty within herself and assumes a love-it-or-leave-it attitude that any self-respecting diva, including Ms. Blige, would be proud of. For the last few minutes of the concert, 12-year-old girls waved their hands in unison with Furtado’s and repeated the final words ("…I decided to stay true to myself") over and over again. It might not suggest much about Furtado’s unique stake in pop music, but seeing dazed club kids, squeaky sorority girls and even old drunk men doing the same thing may.
– Jose Lustre Jr.

Linkin Park/Cypress Hill
@Long Beach Arena,
February 22

Headlining the Projekt Revolution sold-out show, Linkin Park jumped onstage and blasted the audience to hell with the hybrid of hip-hop, rap, metal, and punk rock that the world has come to embrace. Linkin Park, which started out as the hard-edged underground band that screamed their way into our heads, has now become the band of the moment, selling over 6 million records to date. Reportedly performing 324 out of the 365 days of last year, the band has built a devoted following that came to party hard at the Long Beach Arena.

As Linkin Park took the stage, the excitement of fans caused the band to stop in the middle of their song "With You" twice, to remind the crowd to "watch out for each other,
and to pick those up who happen to fall down." A nice gesture, especially for singer Chester Bennington, who in the next breath yells, "Shut up, shut up, shut up when I’m talking to you!" during their breakout hit "One Step Closer." Mike Shinoda was performing his perfect hip-hop style rap with Mr. Hahn spinning the turntables, infusing their songs with that edgy, street flavor that fans has come to love about Linkin Park.

Offering most of the songs off their debut Hybrid Theory, including "In the End," "By Myself" and "Forgotten," the boys also included some new songs such as "My December." Amid green lasers that spun into the crowd, and a backdrop of the Linkin Park army soldier with the dragonfly wings, the band ended big with their single "One Step Closer." As the moshing in the pit slowly came to a halt, so did Linkin Park, signing off to give love to their fans with a humble and sincere "thank you" for making last year a dream come true for this LA-based band.

Starting out the show was the "Insane in the Brain" guys from Cypress Hill, belting out their own brand of hip-hop/street rap that shook the floor at the arena. Rappers DJ Muggs and B. Real hit the stage and sang songs off their current album Stoned Raiders, along with favorites such as "Rock Superstar." With a red-eyed skull as a prop and mysterious white puffs of smoke coming from the crowd, Cypress Hill danced and pranced onstage in football jerseys and baseball caps. The highlight of the show was when Eric Bobo came out and took a hit from the fluorescent green megabong that was put before him – a stunt followed appropriately by the song "Hits From The Bong." With cheers from the crowd, Cypress Hill put on the smokin’ show that fans have come to expect.
–Steven Hanna

Lostprophets
El Rey Theatre
March 20

Tough girls in dreads, bad boys in black, and a few worried parents standing protectively near by was the scene at the El Rey Theatre as multitudes of under-aged high school kids showed up to pay homage to Lostprophets and Apex Theory on a school night. What these kids were looking for, and what these parents dreaded the most was a night of hard metal rock.

Lostprophets, the newest heavy metal band imported from the UK and ready to conquer the US, or at least the El Rey Theatre, were, simply put, quite smashing. Forget the fact that all six members of the band look like they could belong in a boy band, or that the lyrics are actually sweet and positive. When it comes down to the actual music, these guys can really rock.

Quickly jumping into "The Fake Sound of Progress," which is also the title of their debut album, lead singer Ian Watkins taunted the audience with the chorus, "So can you hear this/ the fake sound of progress," all the while pounding his fist into his chest. The audience responded back by belting the lyrics back at Watkins and thrashing about, creating an adrenaline-rush mosh pit.

The most subdued song of their set, "…And She Told Me To Leave," displayed the band’s musical talent and precision, with monster guitar riffs layering carefully over vocals and hard thumping drumbeats.

With an abundance of energy left to spare, Lostprophets politely left the stage at the end of their set with a simple "Thank you," leaving the audience gratified and yet hungry for more. Perhaps that is the ultimate mission for this nu-metal British rock band: to always leave the audience begging for more. Well, lads, mission accomplished.

– Alice Suh

The Mooney Suzuki/
Sahara Hotnights

It was a study in contrasts at the Roxy, as the Mooney Suzuki’s lovingly ironic glamfest proved that rock’s once-transcendent I-gotta-play-this-guitar-or-I’ll-die sincerity is now the black sheep of the rock and roll family.

Midway through the Mooneys’ last song, a chunk of the crowd bum-rushed the stage, driving the band members to climb up on top of their monitors to continue playing. This oddly unthreatening brand of complete chaos was a perfect show closer, although I’m guessing the stage-divers were hired from central casting.

This is a great, great band, an expertly realized and deeply cynical tribute to everything we love and miss about the great days of rock. If the musical genius and cultivated brains behind Devo had been applied to constructing, rather than deconstructing, rock and roll, the result would have been the Mooney Suzuki.

So potent was their performance that you almost, but not quite, forgot openers Sahara Hotnights’ steely-eyed brilliance. At the beginning of their set, the vocal mike at stage left wasn’t working, and bassist Johanna Asplund was visibly annoyed. But then you could see in her face that she decided it didn’t matter, and she just started screaming as hard as she could into the dead mike. "We can keep up the speed till we die," promise the four smokin’ hot Swedish girls in the band on one of the signature tracks from their new CD, entitled Jennie Bomb, and their strident, go-for-broke performance suggests that they mean it. Of course, "meaning it" doesn’t mean what it used to…

——Steven Hanna

BROUGHT TO THEIR KNEES
Nickelback /Jerry Cantrell /Default
Hollywood Palladium
May 29

It would be a brilliant day when major touring acts boycotted the Palladium, considering that getting in there is as easy as breaking out of prison. But until then, we have to deal with it (even the merchandise vendors were prohibited from selling Nickelback bottle openers until after the show to avoid their being used as a "weapon").Default played a pretty heavy set, with the exception of a few songs (cheesy ballad "Living a Lie" and weak pop video hit "Wasting My Time"). The band's set featured groove-oriented grunge sounds with poppy melodies, and the bassist’s Faster Pussycat T-shirt was icing on the cake!  Alice in Chains guitarist Jerry Cantrell played with his solo project band next. Fans enjoyed the Alice hits, especially "Them Bones," but during his newer material——let's just say the audience was more intrigued by my Iron Maiden T-shirt than by anything onstage. But Cantrell's chops and the vocal harmonies sounded good, and he still has some of the kewlest blonde locks in the business.

But judging by the screams for Nickelback as they took center stage, the audience was clearly waiting for these new rock icons. Catchy tunes as "Woke Up This Morning," "Too Bad" and "Hangnail" from Silver Side Up meshed well with older offerings like "Breathe" and "Leader of Men." The few new songs the band offered to us "guinea pigs" were also captivating. It became very clear early into the set why these guys have earned their status as current radio godz, as each tune pumped up the already jazzed audience. For the encore, Singer/guitarist Chad Kroeger broke into "Hero" from Spider-Man with guitarist Ryan Peake, bringing the fans to their knees before kicking their asses with "How You Remind Me." It will be interesting to see if Nickelback can keep up this pace in the future, but judging by the showmanship seen on this night, I feel comfortable thinking that these guys will be around for a while.

——Kerr Lordygan

O.A.R.
@House of Blues,
February 10

The House of Blues wasn't just a building on Sunset on this night – it became a backyard barbecue fiesta, with the band Of a Revolution, better known as O.A.R., supplying the good times.

The audience was a bunch of twenty-somethings decked out in Gap gear. They swayed, clapped and danced along, with a beer in one hand and a friend in another. O.A.R.'s predominantly college audience filled the floors of the House of Blues, demonstrating that a radio-friendly single is unnecessary for reaching out to fans.

The night opened with acts Howie Day and Left Undone. Chicago-hailing Left Undone proceeded to play its funk-jazz-rock throughout their performance, but surprisingly ended its set with a kiss-off song enhanced by a guest harmonica player.

East Coasters, O.A.R., fueled the enthusiasm of the generously energetic crowd with songs off their current release Risen, on their own label, Everfine Records. Currently touring at small clubs around the country, O.A.R. has built a strong following with its own perseverance and word of mouth.

O.A.R.'s set was impressive, capturing upbeat melodies and the band's self-proclaimed "island-vibes roots rock."

The band provided a mellow energy with nothing too overpowering in the sound. The music often resembled the sound of a jam session, with intros and spaces for improvisations and solos. Saxophonist Jerry DePizzo jazzed up the sets with his improvised solos. Guitarist Richard On and lead singer/guitarist Marc Roberge had room to display their solo improvisations as well. Roberge's vocals sounded as if he were singing from the bottom of his stomach, but his growlings reflected the emotional connection he has to the lyrics.

There was nothing very revolutionary about the live performance – the vibe was good, mellow and fun. Sometimes the songs sounded alike, but each one did have its own unique presence, and the audience was sure of it, illustrated by the responsive calls of approval. O.A.R. has the ability to tap into the emotions of its audience, as seen through the energetic responses to the chosen songs – the audience was singing louder than Roberge himself.

The band sampled Bob Marley's "Stir it Up," reiterating the reggae-ska sound it emulates, and also did not neglect the pop world, throwing in a rendition of U2's "With or Without You." Everyone, even the band members, kicked back with a beer and participated in old-fashioned sing-alongs. Those who hung near the bar and along the walls danced and moved along the walkway, searching for outlets to express their good vibes.

O.A.R.'s studio CD isn't able to demonstrate how well they play live. Although some of its members seemed detached from the audience and from performing, the music displayed the talent the band has, as well as its interpretations of reggae, ska, jazz and rock.

The night was indeed complete with a smell reminiscent of backyard parties. The House specials of Creole chicken, nachos and buffalo wings, although staples to the House of Blues, seemed particularly appropriate, adding to the kick-back flavor of the show. It had beer, nachos, friends and music: all the elements of a feel-good rock show.
– Lee Einhorn

Maceo Parker
@ House of Blues,
January 19

It must have been Greek night out, as frat boys and sorority sisters from all over L.A. got dolled up for funk legend Maceo Parker’s House Of Blues show. The HOB was an apt venue for the saxophonist (who was a sideman in the ’60s and ’70s for James Brown and Parliament/Funkadelic, among others); the club’s deep-south Louisiana vibe meshed perfectly with Parker’s impeccable groove ensemble’s butt-shaking soul music.

In another city, on another night, Parker’s show might have been a horn-filled revelation, but tonight it seemed as if Parker’s band was just the house band at a huge college party. It was next to impossible to ignore the noise at the bar during even the loudest numbers, and a mellow, mid-set jazz interlude lost all semblance of importance next to the audience’s non-stop din. Even an awesome, unexpected guest spot from funk pioneer George Clinton was under-appreciated, with the dreadlocked singer having to practically beg for an audience call-and-response on P-funk’s "We Got the Funk."

If Parker’s show proved anything, it was how much the current spate of hip-hoppers, from Dilated Peoples to Ja Rule, owe to old-school funk music. From the bass fills to the back beats to Parker’s role as MC for the night, there was no question that anyone who digs hip-hop music should thank Parker and the rest of the classic funkers for providing the roots of the dominant music of the late 20th century.

Unfortunately, at the House of Blues, the only people that seemed to be getting thank you’s were the bartenders.
– Jeff Miller

Robert Randolph/Keller Williams
House of Blues Sunset Strip
March 9

Though rock music’s religious convictions have been pushing their way into the mainstream recently (check out second-rate superstar bands like Creed, P.O.D, etc.) there hasn’t been an artist with the power of redemption like Robert Randolph since Al Green decided to don a minister’s robe. Randolph was discovered playing his pedal steel guitar in a Louisiana church, and his set (one half of a double-headlined bill with organic-folk-sampler Keller Williams) effectively converted the House Of Blues into a revival, with the audience throwing their hands in the air, yelling "push on" and stomping, shouting, and clapping with the passion of a gospel choir.

Randolph wasn’t there to spread the message of God, though: he was there to preach about the power of rock ’n’ roll. Thankfully (and surprisingly, given his background), he didn’t mention God once in his set, instead playing the aforementioned religious-themed "Push On" as a metaphor for music’s ability to save souls. Randolph’s envelope-pushing playing was extraordinary, and his backing band, The Family Band, was every bit as engaging as the lineup of star musicians in The Word, Randolph’s other group, which played the House of Blues earlier this year.

Keller Williams’ set, though more subdued, was every bit as musically sophisticated as Randolph’s. Williams’ stage set up said it all – three guitars, a bass, and a sampler, all hooked together and ready to go. His broad, mostly acoustic songs began with him looping one or more instrument through his sampling mechanism, then playing and singing over the loop. Williams is a genuinely interesting performer, and he loves what he does (his wide smile never left his Morrison-esque face throughout his hour-and-a-half set), but his virtuoso playing eventually wore thin. There’s a musical power in simplicity, and Williams’ playing – his unpredictable tempo changes, death-defying guitar licks, and "mouth trumpet" solos – got in the way of what could have been great, simple songs. Still, when he closed the show with an awesome, all-acoustic cover of "I Love Rock + Roll," the audience was still with him, singing along to every word.

– Jeff Miller

Reel Big Fish
@House of Blues,
February 7

Back in 1996, before nu-metal, before Petey Pablo, hell, before Britney even questioned her girl-hood, there was a revolution afoot in the Los Angeles music scene. On any given week there would be a listing in the LA Weekly at an all-ages bar – usually the now-defunct Alligator Lounge on Pico in Santa Monica – that was surrounded by a black and white checkered pattern, and featured bands with names like the Toasters. Or Goldfinger. Or Save Ferris. Or Reel Big Fish.

All it would take was that dead-giveaway checkered outline for the kids to flock to these shows, filling the clubs with underaged, Mohawked punks and cutesy-pie pierced punkettes, alternating between skanking and moshing, and singing along to every word that the unsigned or indie groups would sing. There was a revolution afoot, alright, albeit a fun one, a revolution where the point was to wear Doc Martens and bop around, with no casualties except a missed extra credit question on a Bio final.

And then, some of the bands that used to play at the Alligator Lounge hit it big, during the brief ska-punk radio craze of 1997. As their songs (no longer released by the bands themselves, but by mini-majors like Mojo Records) climbed the charts, the checkered patterns disappeared, and so did the Mohawks and the piercings, which were replaced by backwards baseball caps and Gwennabie hair dyes. The revolution was over.

Don’t tell that to Reel Big Fish, though: five years later they still tear through their 90-minute set enthusiastically, blasting through cult classics like "She Has A Girlfriend Now" and their terrific send up of the ’80s classic "Take On Me," and playing songs from their forthcoming third album like the arena rock stars they once seemed destined to be.

To obscurely paraphrase David Wooderson, "The band may have grown up, but their fans seem to stay the same age": the average attendee at the surprisingly sold-out show was probably 15, practically begging the question: is there another revolution of fun on the horizon? And (no offense, Petey Pablo) could it please start, like, now?!
– Jeff Miller

Rugburns
Belly Up Tavern
October 19

The best gigs are the ones that take you by surprise and show you something different and new. If a band can accomplish this with well-known material, you know you’re seeing a great band. The Rugburns fit into this category. Sure, they’re slightly insane, but hey, so was Van Gogh, Nietzsche, and Emily Dickinson.

While every Rugburns show is its own creative event, the B.U.T. show was one of their best. The energy was infectious and had the crowd on their feet. Frontman Steve Poltz, who received national acclaim for penning the Jewel hit "You Were Meant For Me," rocked the Tavern while fingerpicking his Taylor and spewing out amusing lyrics in songs like "Gold’s Gym Guy," "Freebasing Celery," "My Carphone’s on the Pill," "Lockjaw," and "Tree Hugger." While performing his infectious rock, he managed to stage dive a couple times, change clothes (on stage) with other members of the band, and sing from the ledge next to the soundbooth. And as if that wasn’t enough insanity, drummer Stinky, wearing a Scottish kilt and Hawaiian shirt, played percussion on everything but his drum kit on the a capella "Quarter Inch." Beer bottles, glasses, the ground, the walls, hat brims, shoes, microphone stands, and the monitors became instruments for his drumsticks’ rapid and impressive beat.

The Rugburns don’t play as often as they did in the ‘90s, when they tore up the San Diego music scene and made a national name for themselves when touring with Jewel. Luckily, Poltz plays numerous solo acoustic shows a year, bringing us plenty of slightly mellower Rugburns-like antics and amazingly creative songwriting.

Poltz plays our Thanksgiving break at the Casbah in San Diego November 29. www.poltz.com

——Patrick Reetz

Sevendust
@ The Palace,
February 21

Fronted by charismatic singer Lajon Witherspoon and grounded by the severe drumming capabilities of Morgan Rose, Sevendust took the Palace stage before a nearly sold-out crowd and served up their latest batch of soulful, power kicking metal compositions. The Atlanta based quintet appeared quite at home in Los Angeles – that is, judging from Witherspoon’s open invitation to the crowd, "Who’s gonna get me high tonight?"

The band drew material from all three of their heavy, groove-laden albums, most significantly their latest Animosity, and kept the crowd sweaty and moving through most (if not all) of their lengthy set. Sevendust may have only three albums to draw from, butthat’s not to say they’re without a diverse range of material. The group’s strongest influences include Black Sabbath and Pantera, but with his R&B background, Witherspoon brings a velvety smooth vocal quality into the mix. Along with his raging ferocity of course.

The highlight of the evening was undoubtedly the performance of "Angel’s Son," a tribute to the late Lynn Strait, friend of the band and frontman of Snot. Strait was killed in 1998 in a car accident and "Angel’s Son" was included on Immortal Record’s subsequent tribute album Strait Up. The song is both beautiful and haunting, and serves as an appropriate medium for the intensity of the friends’ loss. Witherspoon’s vocals ferried his emotions well, and if one was close enough, they could note the tears on his face. The remainder of the Sevendust set included "Live Again," "Trust," "Crucify," "Denial," "Bitch," "Praise," and "Waffle"… not to mention a little Pantera and White Zombie riffage thrown into the mix. All in all it was a remarkably intense performance for an act that has made its reputation on remaining relatively low key in the public eye. And based on the audience’s enthusiastic response, it was a good time had by all.
–Erin Broadley

Siouxsie and the Banshees

Siouxsie and the Banshees effortlessly packed this Hollywood Palladium concert and revealed that even after a career spanning more than two decades, this band still has both the charm and the balls to keep fans glam-rocking for more. Mesmerizing vocalist Siouxsie Sioux took the stage in a dark fitted suit, only to remove her jacket several songs later to reveal a rhinestone-studded bra. As the sultry yet tough-as-nails Siouxsie stripped down to the roaring pleasure of male and female fans alike, I thought I heard Gwen Stefani somewhere sighing deeply in humbled reverence.

Forged out of the ‘70s London punk scene, Siouxsie and the Banshees is one of the few surviving bands from that community and has influenced countless other musicians with its sexy yet sophisticated on-stage style (Stefani included). Siouxsie and the Banshees engages the crowd with every performance with music that is more pop-melodic Goth rock direction than the down-and-dirty punk of their longtime peers the Sex Pistols.

The band eased through its two-hour set with enough energy left for a double encore and several elaborate farewells. Favorites included "Christine," "Happy House," "Cities in Dust," "Hong Kong Garden," and "Israel," with the infectious 1991 single "Kiss Them For Me" saved for the grand finale. Everyone in the venue grinned ear to ear and danced (yes even the tough guys with Mohawks), and those who had mistakenly left after the first encore bolted back into the venue, plowing over any anemic Goth in their way. Both musically and visually, Siouxsie and the Banshees was at its best at the Palladium, and to put it simply, if you missed this show, then you missed out.

——Erin Broadley

Soulfly/Downthesun/
Northside Kings
House of Blues Sunset Strip
October 22

Fresh off an U.S. tour with the almighty Slayer, Soulfly used their downtime to do what they do best——play live. The quintet made three consecutive stops in Southern California, bringing their tribal, optimistic musical assault to Los Angeles fans.

With original drummer Roy Mayorga back in the mix, Soulfly’s music is back to its "primitive" origins——heavy, cathartic and full of emotions, which come to life in their live performances. Guitarist Mikey Doling (formerly of Snot) jammed onstage with bass player Marcello D. Rapp, while lead singer/guitarist Max Cavalera unleashed his energy in a set that touched on material from the band’s three albums, including their latest, Soulfly III. Their drive and fury was funneled through a furious amalgam of heavy metal, tribal and world music drum beats, mixed with a sense of hope an and unity that coursed through the spirit of the music.

"We wanna give memory too all those who have died and left us this past year," said Cavalera. "From Joey Ramone and Layne Stanley to Dave Williams of Drowning Pool, you will all live on in spirit!" With that, the band tore into a three-song set of old school classics from his former outfits, Sepultura and Nailbomb. The crowd erupted, and emotions both onstage and off reached their apex for the evening. This is what Soulfly does best——provide a powerful catharsis for both themselves and their audience.

Openers Downthesun and Northside Kings provided warm-up, the latter being a mix between Sick of it All and Agnostic Front, while the former was an interesting blend of Fear Factory and Jane’s Addiction with a touch of the Reverend Horton Heat’s full-throttle psychobilly and a hint of industrial metal. All and all, a powerful night, though Soulfly provided the highest sonic and emotional wattage.

——Alex Distefano

iF yoU C CORPORATE

Three factors can contribute easily towards an awesome rock show: 1) an impatient and slightly hysterical crowd; 2) intimidating security guards in waterproof jackets, hired to prevent fans from having too much fun (which ultimately only encourages them to defy authority and fulfill one’s own personal enjoyment); and 3) the performance itself.

Friday night at the House of Blues in Anaheim was no exception as hometown favorites Something Corporate belted out new songs from their debut album, Leaving Through the Window. It’s hard not to be mesmerized by the piano wizardry of lead singer Andrew McMahon as he perches a foot languidly on his keys one minute, and then in the next begins wildly stomping both feet on his delicate piano. Visually stimulating and wonderfully flamboyant, McMahon, supported by electrifying guitars, bass and drums, opened up the show with "Punk Rock Princess."

Non-stop drum beats and hard-hitting guitar riffs set the mood as Something Corporate effortlessly played crowd-pleasing songs like, "Hurricane," "Drunk Girl," and "I Want To Save You." They also succumbed to the aggressive chanting from the back of the room by making their much in-demand song "iF yoU C Jordan" their last and final song. This finale not only riled up the audience, but also managed to increase the already overabundant flow of energy in the room. Something Corporate, is definitely corporate cool.

——Alice Suh

Sprite Liquid Mix Tour

The Sprite Liquid Mix Tour featured a rainbow coalition of bands, with hip-hop and rock headliners Jay-Z, 311 and Hoobastank. Tech N9ne kicked off the day with "Slacker" from their current release Absolute Power, while metal band Nonpoint, whose current single "Your Signs" was highlighted by the flying dreadlocks of singer Elias Soriano. Blackalicious came onstage to deliver some positive rap with "Make You Feel That Way," while N.E.R.D. strutted the stage with Justin Timberlake during their hit single "Rockstar."

Intense screams from their fans welcomed the boys from Hoobastank, who exploded onstage with "Pieces," followed by such favorites as "Crawling In The Dark" and their newest single, "Remember Me." During their set, lead singer Doug Robb noticed a strange odor in the air and said in disgust, "What is that horrible smell?" The crowd answered quickly, "It’s Hoobastank!"

311 was up next, and singer Nick Hexum and rapmaster SA brought out old favorites like "All Mixed Up" as well as hits like "Amber" from their most recent album From Chaos. Surprise guest Alien Ant Farm joined the band for "Homebrew," and the band ended the night with a shirtless Nick jumping into their fanatical crowd.

Current king of hip-hop Jay-Z stormed onstage with the crowd chanting "Jigga What, Jigga Who" and unleashed new tunes like "Izzo" and "Song Cry" from his most recent album Blueprint. Jay-Z ended the night with some "Big Pimpin’," as he invited the fine-looking ladies in the house to join him for some fireworks backstage.

——Mari Fong

Starsailor
@The Palace,
January 11

The industry buzz was inevitable. Starsailor, the critics’ new daring and Capitol record’s latest, much-heralded British import, hit Los Angeles at the landmark Palace.

Making an appearance in support of their debut album, Love Is Here, Starsailor opened for one of their greatest influences the Charlatans UK, playing to a sea of adoring young fans as well as a plethora of record execs (no doubt there to ride the wave of the latest buzz).

Influenced by Tim Buckley (whose 1970 album gave the band their name), Van Morrison, and Neil Young, the four part shoegazers – James Walsh (vocals/guitar), James Stelfox (bass), and Ben Byrne (drums), Barry Westhead (keyboards) – gently lulled the crowd into their first song of the evening, "Poor Misguided Fool." After the big opening number, Starsailor’s melancholy, mellifluous ballads followed, unfortunately accompanied by a stiff, statue-esque stage presence that may be attributed to their limited experience on the road. Walsh’s contorted face seemed heartfelt during the misery-filled minor-key tunes, like "Alcoholic," during which the frontman looked so forlorn it was as if he was about to burst into tears. However, Walsh’s unusual voice and shaggy good looks wrapped the crowd up in the palm of the four British musicians.

Toward the end of the set, the sound guy must have gone tone deaf, because the vocals, guitars and bass levels were off, as was Walsh’s disappointingly amateurish guitar solo on "Tie Up My Hands." Closing the performance with their recently released, bass-thumping single "Good Souls," the hype fizzled out.
– Christine Anne Long

The Super Furry Animals’ May concert at the El Rey was like the starting gun for the summer, the joyous sound of that final bell on the last day of school translated into perfect pop music. But their encore gig at the Palace on this cold October night was like the "winter remix" of that show: one of the chilliest and least involving great concerts I’ve ever seen.

Perhaps inspired by the rich possibilities of the Palace’s cavernous space, the Super Furries mixed their show quadrophonically, with large speakers set up at the rear of the room to add an extra dimension to the usual stereo separation. It wasn’t surprising the hear much of the music coming from unexpected places——the production wizardry on Rings Around the World has me constantly amazed at the sounds I swear I hear coming from speakerless corners of my living room——but the unevenness of the mix was distracting. A searing, excellent guitar solo on "It’s Not the End of the World" was downright unsettling: we watched Huw Bunford playing in front of us, but heard what he was playing coming from behind. Maybe on a weekend night, with the liquor flowing a little more liberally, this would have been transporting, but on Monday it felt like the band was pushing us away.

And maybe they were. They did, after all, play a string of unfamiliar new tunes in the first half of their set, alienating much of the crowd before getting the party started with an amazing "Juxtaposed With U." And though the closing "The Man Don’t Give a Fuck" fixed all the mixing problems by simply turning up the volume everywhere to the max, by then half the crowd had bled away.

——Steven Hanna

DOWN TO THE CROSSROADS

After sitting through two disappointing solo acts, the White Stripes finally took the stage to a restless. crowd at the El Rey–and then proceeded to give Los Angeles its most lively show since Black Flag and the L.A. punk scene 20 years ago.

So what separates the White Stripes from the pack? Jack White looks like Robert Smith on ‘roids, and his sister has a smirk that sends men scrambling to get a better look, but their substance goes beyond the candy striper image. Cannibalizing Led Zeppelin (and in the process, the entire blues tradition), White lets his slide howl like the best bluesmen of the era, and allows his shrill voice to tether like a banshee’s cry. It doesn’t hurt that "the ladies won’t leave Mr. Jack White alone," either. Meg’s steady beat has the effortlessness of horseback riding and inspires a new generation of men to aspire to the role of drum stool.

While many of the new "indie-punk-pop-blues" bands today have a gimmicky look (Strokes, Hives), the White Stripes are much more than a fashion statement (this summer, pale is IN). Having seen Robert Plant and Jimmy Page live, it is possible to say that White’s control of slide and voice rival the raw talent of Led Zeppelin. His extended guitar solos came as a welcome surprise, considering they don’t appear on any of the albums.

Covers of Loretta Lynn’s "Rated X" (sung by Meg) and Dolly Parton’s "Jolene" only proved what those of us not driven by the KROQ radio single "Fell In Love With a Girl" (which was NOT played on Friday night) already knew: when the Stripes play a song, they own it the same way a bird owns its wings. With an intensity unrivaled by any band on stage today, and with a sense of history tied to the soul of rock ‘n’ roll, the White Stripes, with any luck, have made the same deal that Robert Johnson did. If so, let the devil be considered the greatest music fan of all time. After all, "Any fool with a microphone can tell you what he loves the most," but not just anyone can make you love it too.

——Lee Einhorn

X
The Knitting Factory
May 3

A gradually expanding crowd took over the Main Stage room of the Knitting Factory on this night, with most if not all of them there to see L.A. punk legends X open their two-night Beatfest stand. After a lengthy delay, the curtain opened on our city's royal punk family. King John Doe, Lady Exene Cervenka and princes Billy Zoom and DJ Bonebrake proceeded to slash and burn through their hour-plus show like it was 1980. Though each of its members are truly distinct personalities (bassist/singer Doe reckless yet disciplined, vocalist Cervenka petulant and unhinged, guitarist Zoom stoic and drummer Bonebrake just plain unfailing), X continues to put on a vigorous and cohesive concert; as with all great art, it shouldn't work but it does. They pleased their fans with a barrage of favorites, from guitar-grinding "Nausea" to the breakneck sing-along "Los Angeles" to the pleading "Burning House of Love." Doe and Cervenka harmonized impeccably throughout,, and the music seemed as urgent and everlasting as ever, particularly during "The Unheard Music," where the lyrics "We're locked out of the public eye" suggested the alienation and pride that crucially coexist in the punk realm. If anyone was trying to link punks to beats, they need look no further than that verse.

– Eric Layton