Shitty concert etiquette can destroy what could otherwise be an out-of-this-world concert experience. I’ve attended hundreds of metal, rock, and punk shows and witnessed all manner of drunken douchebaggery. The more intense the show, the more idiocy you’ll have to put up with.

I’m not a people person. I don’t go to shows to get shitfaced. I don’t go to shows to intentionally collide with people galloping in a sloppy circle while shadowboxing. There’s nothing wrong with either of those things, and I have no problem putting up with people who engage in them — I just want to enjoy an awesome live show.

Gogol Bordello played the Ritz Ybor last Monday. They were just as amazing as their last Bay Area appearance at the State Theatre, and I had an awesome time. Early on, however, I feared my evening would be ruined by the most egregious concert etiquette faux pas. An error so heinous it transcends rock shows and infringes upon normal everyday life: exceptionally awful body odor.

Vague artist rendering

A few songs into the set by well-selected tour openers Deleon, the otherwise fun-having crowd slowly growing in front of the stage encountered two 20-something males radiating foulness. The somewhat stocky kid of average build was clearly the second banana to Chief Stink, who towered at a lanky six-feet and would have stood out of the crowd just on the basis of his long, wavy red hair — that is, if he didn’t already fucking reek.

His hair was frizzed to near-Afro status due to the weeks-long drought of water and shampoo his scalp must have endured. I think grindcore pioneers Carcass named their first album, Reek of Putrefaction, after these two. They certainly reminded me of decomposing flesh. My wife remarked that Pigpen must smell like potpourri by comparison. The two of them, bless their hearts, brought energy to the center of the Ritz’s floor that outpaced the rest of the audience; but their smelly arrival prompted the creation of a one-foot halo of concertgoers around them who were hoping to avoid the stench. To make matters worse, the pair of stinkers started launching their rancid bodies into innocent bystanders, bringing an early start to moshpits characteristic of Gogol Bordello’s energetic headlining set.

As with all unwritten rules, exceptions will be made. I don’t see the point of going overboard with personal hygiene prior to any concert at Jannus Landing between March and November. Long festivals, especially outdoor shows like Warped Tour or Bonnaroo, are likewise exempt. But inside at the pleasantly renovated, well air-conditioned Ritz Ybor? For the sake of those around you, hose yourself the fuck off!

Only one group of people should be permitted to smell that badly at a rock show. You can usually find them on-stage.

It was ridiculously hot. It took me 15 minutes to realize that my white wife beater would become my face towel for the day. It was loud. It was colorful. It was my first time at Vinoy Park. And finally, at the age of 24, it was my first time experiencing Warped Tour.

It’s been three years since I attended a music festival and as I walked through the ticket line into a field filled with tents, stages, beer stands and even a slip n’ slide, I instantly recalled why I love outdoor fests; passing through the gates meant entering a world of the unpredictable and the unexpected. I didn’t know what kind of crazies I’d come across (there were bound to be some amidst the 10,000 attendees), what kind of new music I’d hear, or how pleased I’d be with the bands I was there to support.

The second thing I love about music festivals is people-watching. Scenesters were everywhere. I saw blue hair, purple hair, mohawks, rainbow socks, mesh shirts, ripped shirts, patched pants, asses hanging out of daisy dukes, bikini tops, all kinds of neon clothing, hundreds of tattoos as well as band shirts ranging from Minor Threat to Run-DMC to Hank Williams Jr. It was refreshing and entertaining.

I’m not going to lie, I was only interested in seven bands playing at Warped — Bad Religion, Less Than Jake, Streetlight Manifesto, Bouncing Souls, NOFX, Flogging Molly and Shooter Jennings (a surprising addition ) — but I was disappointed to find that the latter three acts fell off the line-up. However, Flogging Molly still had a merch tent set up, which Greg Graffin — lead singer of Bad Religion — made sure to knock at the end of Bad Religion’s set. Quite hilarious.

After arriving, my friend Zach and I checked out a couple of bands we’d never heard. I was able to tolerate the first, Chiodos, for about five minutes. Though the band seemed to have a solid fan base, the music just wasn’t for me; I’m not into the hardcore, scream-your-head-off fare with moments of melodic singing sprinkled in between.

When I asked a young girl the name of the next band I saw, she replied, “I set my friends on fire.” I stared at her with what must have been horror and contemplated whether or not she was on acid. “I’m sorry, what?” I asked. She replied, “The name of the band is I Set My Friends On Fire.” I laughed, thanked her and walked a safe distance to check out the two-man band from Miami. I only caught about five minutes of the show, and the music wasn’t memorable. Although, the one thing I did like about ISMFOF — and something I noticed at a few other stages — was the band’s intense energy and easy engagement with the crowd.

I found out the name of Cash Cash from a red-headed girl with cute freckles and braces, which should have been a warning sign. One of the musicians had a keytar so I had high hopes that the band would be better than the last two I’d seen. The members’ colorful attire and spunky attitudes perfectly correlated with their catchy, bubblegum, uber-pop sound. After listening to two songs, Zach summed it up perfectly: “They are the next stage of evolution for the boy bands.”

It was 3: 45 p.m.; time for Bouncing Souls.

I like Bouncing Souls, but it was my friend Zach who was eager to see them perform. I started out with him in the pit, but the second the push circles and moshing began, I backed away in fear of smashing my good camera and breaking my neck. Bouncing Souls delivered big for their fans, opening with “Kate Is Great” off 1997’s self-titled album. They also played cuts off Hopeless Romantic and How I Spent My Summer Vacation. I was happy to hear “Lean On Sheena” off their late, The Gold Record, because it’s the only Bouncing Soul song I know every word to thanks to its overplay on Sirius Radio. At the end of the set and in the middle of a song, vocalist Greg Attonito had fun with the crowd when he declared he was doing a first at Warped Tour — asking the audience to be as quiet as possible. “Everyone wants us to be loud, so we’re asking you to be quiet,” he said. It worked. The crowd was silent. He added, “Well done everybody, thank you, we appreciate it,” and then the crowd began devotedly clapping in sync and the song started back up for a strong finish. Zach’s description of the show: “Fucking brutal.”

Less Than Jake (LTJ) immediately followed Bouncing Souls. This was my third time seeing LTJ and the band was as good as ever. The musicians came out to the Star Wars theme and then picked up the tune with their own instruments. Trombonist Buddy Schaub never ceases to amaze me with his electrifying energy. He was all over the place, interacting with the crowd and loving the fans’ rowdiness. At one point he ran around, spraying the crowd with a water gun (pictured at left). I wondered how he had any breath left to play the trombone. As the band launched into “The Science of Selling Yourself Short,” I had a surprising revelation: I’ve always loved lead vocalist Chris Demakes, but for the first time I realized I’m more partial to bassist Roger Manganelli’s vocals. The Gainesville band had strong support from family members who’d turned out to see the show. Demakes’ mom (who appeared at the last LTJ show at Jannus) stood stage left and sang every word to every song — it was so endearing. Demakes’ mom wasn’t the only one singing along — of the two St. Pete policemen behind the barricades, one appeared to hate his job while the other sang along to LTJ’s tunes when he thought no one was looking.

LTJ’s setlist included: “Sugar in Your Gas Tank,” “Last One out of Liberty City,” “All My Best Friends Are Metal Heads,” “Help Save the Youth of America from Exploding” “Scott Farcus Takes It on the Chin” “Look What Happened,” “The Ghosts of Me and You” and “Conviction Notice.”

After LTJ we had an hour to kill before Bad Religion and Streetlight Manifesto. We took the opportunity to sit, cool down and take it all in. The Truth.com tent was having a contest to the sounds of Spice Girls and Aqua — it was bizarre and out of place. As I watched dirt that had turned into mud drip down my leg, I finally paid attention to the band that was playing in front of us, SET IT OFF from Clearwater. They were my favorite “new” band of the day, their songs catchy without being obnoxious. The musicians performed amazingly, breaking it down hard on stage.

At 6:55 p.m., we headed over to see Bad Religion.

I was psyched. I think it’s cool to see any band that’s been around for almost 30 years, and apparently so did a lot of other people. Bad Religion pulled one of the biggest, if not the biggest crowd at Warped Tour. After it started raining a couple minutes into the show, Graffin declared that whenever they play, it rains, because someone “up there” doesn’t like Bad Religion.” I got a good chuckle out of that one. The band was phenomenal. Graffin’s voice hadn’t changed; whether he screamed or sang melodiously, it was flawless. As much as the rain sucked, it was worth it to stick out the show. The set included “Infected,” “21st Century (Digital Boy),” “Requiem for Dissent” and “Sorrow.” On a side note, “Sorrow” was the last song I karaoked and let’s just say it was a real buzz kill for the crowd.

It was still raining when Bad Religion finished; a slight chill had replaced the unbearable heat. There was one band left I wanted to see — Streetlight Manifesto. I became a fan of the ska band over the past year and quickly fell in love with their first album, Everything Goes Numb. The band played a short set and there were some technical difficulties with the microphone. During a crowd favorite, “Here’s to Life,” the mic went completely dead, but the fans made sure to fill in the void with the appropriate lyrics. Even though lead singer Tomas Kalnoky’s vocals weren’t as strong live, the band was on point. There is something about Streetlight’s horn section that makes me want to dance … and I did.

My first Warped Tour experience was a blast. However it did somewhat defy my idea of the unexpected and unpredictable (at least when it came to the crowd): I had no exciting random conversations with strangers; I witnessed no fights or streaking; I came across no obliterated drunks; and I smelled weed less than five times. Maybe those are good things.

“I’m so blessed to / have spent the time / with my family and the friends I love/ with my short life / I have met so many people I deeply care for”

These final chanted lyrics of Yeasayer’s “Red Cave” go a ridiculously long way in summarizing exactly what my recent trip to Chicago for the fifth annual Pitchfork Festival meant to me. While I’d been to the fest several times in the past (the first three, actually), this marked the first time that a huge group of old friends (LBHS stand up!) were able to meet up and enjoy the city and the music and the drunken shenanigans together. (Pictured at right: Wayne Coyne of the Flaming Lips; all photos by R. Kevin Rose.)

What’d I learn? well, for starters… we are all official members of the POSI-ADULT CREW. Not straight edge — not even close — but definitely upbeat and affable. Positive, if you will. A group of kids raised on (amongst many, many other things) Bad Brains’ “P.M.A.”, Seven Seconds, Dag Nasty, Gorilla Biscuits, etc., who grew into a geographically dispersed crew of adults … all of us still kinda “Screaming For Change” in our own unique ways. (LOTS MORE PICS AND SHENANIGANS AFTER THE JUMP)

Admittedly, the relentless POSI-CORE tunes we were simultaneously improvising & singing all weekend (titles I somehow managed to remember include “Don’t Die!,” “Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes,” “Si Se Puede,” “Why Did You Leave?” … you get the picture) were more than a touch tongue-in-cheek. But facts are facts; my old school crew only jokes about mosh-ing kids to a nub — we don’t actually do it.

So that’s the scene — about 20 of us (ages: 35-40) lazily taking in the festival during day followed by way-too-long nights of heavy drinking / mild partying at night. By the end of the weekend, a ringing, unifying consensus had emerged: We’re all getting way too fucking old to ride hard for days on end like that. Realization aside — wow. What a blast!!! I saw some great bands / acts, got plenty of much-needed re-connect time (I hadn’t seen some of these fine folks in YEARS!!!), laughed ’til my sides hurt, punished my liver thoroughly and survived to write this little wrap-up piece about it.

While I could easily re-count endless minutiae and I’ve written up several drafts about what our posse did, all the bars, all the food, all the hi-jinx, and so on & so forth, would likely be lost on y’all. Instead … I’m just gonna riff on what turned me on about this year’s fest. By day – check it:

FRIDAY: Got to the fest just in time for Tortoise (pictured below, at right). They took the stage to a relatively mellow response and got the party started. Confident, focused and tasteful without any over-arching sense of urgency … kind of a nice way to ease into the whole thing. They played “DJed,” which has gotta be pretty rare as the tune is long with a capital “L” and it travels in a multitude of directions. There was a little girl on her dad’s shoulders, maybe 3 years old, who was TOTALLY mouthing along to John McEntire & Jon Herndon’s boom-bap … made me smile ear to ear. One of my fave bands of the last 15+ years, these hometown heroes set the bar pretty high, even if it wasn’t the most intense set I’ve ever seen them play.

Yo La Tengo was next. They came on, did their thing, nice and simple and melodic indie jamming. I guess they’ve been steadily perfecting that schtick since I first saw them in the early ’90s. They probably should’ve opened.

Most of the crew had congregated by this point, all of us pumped for The Jesus Lizard, which ended up being great. David Yow told more than a few horribly tasteless jokes, spit a shit-ton of loogies, offered a snappy retort when a stage dive kinda fell apart (”Thanks for your support”) and proved himself a remarkably impressive reservoir of energy for someone that was unquestionably one of the best front-persons on the planet 20+ years ago. But y’know — Yow’s more or less icing. Duane Denison had that silly-stupid Fripp-ian fret stretch technique, sparks and shards of perfectly dischordant guitar. David William Sims laid the bass lines down, complete with his signature lunging head-snap move. And drummer Mac McNeilly had that metronomic and taut attack that kept it all chugging along. Got right up front for the end of the set and their sound was dialed in. They wrapped it up and I was left with the distinct sense that this was, unfortunately, as intense as things were gonna get all weekend … and I was right. The crew decided to forgo Built To Spill in favor of the Bottom Lounge, and while I kinda would’ve liked to have stuck around to see BTS, I was uncharacteristically going with the flow. Much much more drinking and silliness ensued.

SATURDAY: The cab dropped us off at Cobra Lounge, a coupla blocks from the park. We took some shots, had a few beers and got our minds right for Yeasayer. This was my first time seeing them and as I mentioned in my preview post, they were the only band I felt I HAD to see. And they were good and I was real happy to enjoy their live set. I guess they’ve parted ways with their drummer, which kinda sucks, but they’d replaced him with both a kit drummer and a percussion dude who was playing a barrage of samples like a human drum machine. Yeasayer played at least three new songs, and there were more than a few jams from All Hour Cymbals. About two-thirds of the way into their set, as one of the new songs started, so did the rain and most of us got a little wet, though that tiny shower subsided just as the band’s dancey outro kicked in. It was a pretty darned rave-y moment … more than a bit ecstatic. Then, the sun came poking through the clouds as they made their way through “Sunrise,” almost as if they’d planned the weather. They closed with the aforementioned “Red Cave” and I was content. That being said, their singer needs a little work on his live vocals. All in all, I was extremely pleased with my maiden Yeasayer voyage and I still can’t wait to hear their next record.

Doom (formerly known as MF Doom, pictured masked at left) was solid and it was nice to have some hip-hop front and center. But I preferred the small club set I saw him perform years ago. Watched a few of his tunes but was careful to hurry back to smallest stage in time to catch Lindstrøm (pictured at the bottom of the post). This Swedish disco / house producer definitely brought it: relentless thumping four-on-the-floor and Moroder-esque chord progressions. Fantastic stuff. Could’ve zoned out to him a lot longer than he performed as I was feeling prettay loose by that point. But that was that … my group was moving on.

Headed to a barbeque at a friend’s house, where we drank more beer, ate brats and listened to a healthy dose of Husker DU, Naked Raygun, Descendents, Rites Of Spring, Replacements, etc. Goooood times. The beer ran out and someone came back from a beer run with a bottle of Cazadores. Next thing I remember, we were clown-car packed into Brian Costello’s whip with Fear’s “Lets Have A War” blasting from the speakers (”There’s too many of us, there’s too many of us, there’s too many of us…”). The tequila was passed around and, well… I don’t remember much past that point.

SUNDAY: While I really wanted to strike out on my own and see DJ/Rupture and The Walkmen (pictured lat left), among various others, the crew was all meeting at Cos’ for his birthday grill out. In the end I acquiesced. Brian went big with the grilled meat and veggies, and I plowed through as much of the yumminess as I could manage.

We grabbed another cab (only used my $14 three-day-pass ONCE, on the initial trip from ORD), so as not to miss Grizzly Bear … who RULED! They fought through sound issues and executed a superb selection of tracks both old and new. I’ve actually listened to a bootleg of their set four or five times since after returning home, which is absolutely unheard of for me. (I think the only other live recording I’ve listened to that many times is Santana’s Lotus. Seriously.) But yeah – they were so good, soooo good. Really makes me wanna travel somewhere to see them in a darker, smaller space where they’ll obviously get to play longer. They’re on top right now. If you’re into dynamic, original music and you haven’t checked them out yet — well, you might wanna rectify that ASAP.

Flaming Lips were next, but I figured I’d check out The Very Best first and re-join my friends a little later. I stumbled back to the “C” stage and was treated to what, for me, was the biggest surprise of the weekend. Club beats laced with African singing and dancing, really really positive vibes. Gonna have to listen to that Mixtape from last year a little closer now that I have a better idea of what they’re all about. I watched their whole set, then stumbled back to my friends, who’d all pretty well decided that the Lips had turned into a novelty act. So we left. And just as we were headed out the front gate, the Lips started to tear into some older jams and they sounded pretty damn tight and I was somewhat bummed to miss it. We grabbed cabs, met at another bar where I randomly bumped into one of my favorite singers ever (Gared O’Donnell [ex-Planes Mistaken For Stars]).

So yeah, there’s more but I’ll save that for the memoirs. I’m so glad I was able to go (thanks to Joran and Leilani for hooking up the passes for Kevin and I). Seriously — so happy I got to get away for a few days and enjoy some great live music and some freakishly awesome Chicago weather (I dont think it got hotter than 80 degrees the whole trip) … but even more importantly, some great friends. Here’s hoping you get to do the same sometime real real soon!

MORE PICS:

Lindstrøm

Ed Droste of Grizzly Bear.

Chris Taylor of Grizzly Bear.

Bassist Kathy Foster of The Thermals

Grizzly Bear

More Flaming Lips

And more …

And just a little more.

Restless again. My band stops playing and a smattering of applause fills the void of sound as the barkeep kicks on the punk jukebox. Love Comes in Spurts pipes through the shitty speakers as Richard Hell’s whiney voice affirms the nihilistic undertones of modern living. I look down at my sweat-stained shirt and a tiny button of Hell’s vacant stare pinned above my left breast pocket catches my eye. For a second, its blank straight-mouthed expression curls into a shit eating grin and he whispers up at me, “I know punk sounds better through the filter of a canned, thought-out and planned recording” as I rub my eyes, pick up my amplifier and carry it hastily out the back door.

Fresh air stings my lungs, billowing smoke escaping through the closing door behind me. I drop my keys, set the amp down on the pavement and pick them up. After throwing the amp in the back seat of my car, I reluctantly re-enter the bar from the back to finish cleaning up.

Unexpectedly, the door leads directly into my parents’ house three towns over. The sun burns through the large windows as my hands begin to shake uncontrollably. I must have really shaken something up in my head last night with that show, I tell myself in a panic. I can hear my parents arguing in the next room:

“Why can’t you use your gift of music to serve the Lord?”

“All you do is yell, scream and make noise. Don’t you remember what that guy told you? That singer up in Madawaska? What did he tell you? He told you to keep God close or you will be tempted by the Devil.”

Then I hear an even stranger sound; my own voice!

“I don’t think God is interested in mediocrity and banality.” I peak my head around the corner of the entryway and peer into the living room, and I can feel my eyes popping out of my skull as I find a version of myself standing with both my parents. My other self continues, “If anything, Satan is busy lowering the standards of culture with your national television karaoke contests and hack musicians who only play for money and don’t really believe in what they do!”

I sneak out the front door into daylight and run down the walkway to my car. “What the fuck is going on?” I ask aloud as I pat my pockets for my keys but can’t find them. I blink, my eyelids closing very slowly as I continue to scour the insides of my pockets so I can make my getaway.

As I open my eyes, the darkness of night shocks my vision and I feel tears swelling below my corneas. A rag covered young oi-looking punk with a Crass patch on his left jean leg leans against the outside wall of the bar and lights a cigarette. “I really dug that set,” he spouts without looking toward me as smoke trickles from his mouth. “I love that punk noise shit. Do you have a couple bucks?”

Still in shock, I reach into my pocket and throw him two one dollar bills. “Thanks for the kind words, man. I’m glad you enjoyed it,” I hear myself respond as I wander back into the bar.

A television flashes headlines too bright to ignore: Hurricane Warning… Headed Directly For Tampa Bay… and immediately cuts to a Home Depot commercial featuring images of gas-powered generators and storm shutters. The pounding rhythm of Ghost Rider by Suicide fills all ears as Martin Rev croons, “America America is killing its youth!” and I see him inside my head smash a microphone directly into his mouth three times. The disheartening thwoks of amplified violence cause me to cringe and smile a devilish smile at the same time.

Suicide- Ghost Rider

On paper, Dethklok should be unbearably lame. Fake bands from cartoons bring to mind tripe like Jem or Josie & The Pussycats. But somehow, Metalocalypse creator Brendon Small got it right. Dethklok is more than just a “brutal” caricature. Judging by how Small crams in references to obscure bands and invites big names from the metal underground such as George “Corpsegrinder” Fisher and the members of Exodus to provide guest voices on most episodes, Small clearly gives a shit about metal. The Berklee College of Music grad not only voices many of the characters and writes much of the music, he also sings and plays guitar.

The Dethalbum should have also been unbearably lame. Songs from the TV show’s first season had to stand on their own without silly ultraviolent imagery. At best, Dethklok should be paint-by-numbers metal, and their songs little more than novelty throwaways. But behind every silly concept like “Murmaider” (homicidal sea-creatures) or “Awaken” (resurrecting demons) hides a pretty awesome metal song. In fact, Small’s Berklee pedigree and heavy metal fanboy roots create a competent, if not expertly-crafted pastiche of the best aspects of death, thrash, and traditional heavy metal.

The Deathalbum was one of my favorite releases of 2007. Now, Small and his cartoon band will try again.

Metal news site Blabbermouth.net shares the details:

“The Dethalbum II, the new album by DETHKLOK, the animated metal band from Adult Swim’s “Metalocalypse”, will be released on September 8 via Williams Street Records. The effort features 12 full-length tracks detailing DETHKLOK’s exploits in murder, mayhem and all things brutal. Written by series co-creator Brendon Small and recorded alongside legendary drummer Gene Hoglan, “Dethklok: The Dethalbum II” will be released as both a standard edition and a two-disc deluxe edition on CD and digital download beginning September 8. Additionally, a limited edition vinyl of the album will be released in to local record shops on September 29. The deluxe edition will include a bonus DVD with 52 minutes of never-before-released music videos featured in the 2008 DETHKLOK tour.

“Awaken” from The Dethalbum (2007)

When Billy Corgan first announced his intention to resurrect The Smashing Pumpkins, longtime fans crossed out the names of uninvolved former members (except Jimmy Chamberlain) one by one. We knew there would be no James Iha (now in that silly supergroup Tinted Windows) and no D’Arcy Wretzky (right). Only now do we finally hear what’s up with the silvery-haired bassist! D’Arcy randomly called Chicago alt-rock station Q101 to let us know she left the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle behind in favor of passing her days on a horse farm in rural Michigan. Oh, and she loves Silversun Pickups, who don’t at all sound like The Smashing Pumpkins.

Last month, I reported on Courtney Love and her similar intention to resurrect Hole with minimal involvement from former bandmates. Former Hole guitarist and co-conspirator Eric Erlandson took time out from Buddhism and marketing vegan food for a Spin Q&A. When asked about his feelings on Hole’s return, he responded:

We have a contract. She signed a contract with me when we decided to break up the band, which was like 2002 or something, so I really don’t have a comment on it except that I know my part in that band. The way I look at it, there is no Hole without me. [Laughs] To put it blunt. Just on a business level… I’m open to discussions regarding the real Hole, and if she has a solo album together, I think that’s great.

What did Mrs. Cobain have to say about this? Find out after the jump!

Courtney Tweeted in response:

Uh i just hear that a former guitar player is saying i cant use my name for MY band, hes out of his MIND, he may want to check the trademark

Blur confused and panicked fans during their illness-shortened T in The Park set last Sunday when Damon Albarn said, “This is our last gig,” despite earlier reports about the band writing new music. It was the final stop of their reunion tour, at the very least.

Mike Ness (left) told a Russian music blog that Social Distortion will hit the studio either in late ‘09 or early ‘10. The last new record came out in 2004, with 1992’s Somewhere Between Heaven & Hell being the last time Social D fans waited less than four years for a new LP.

Mission of Burma continues their post-reunion output on October 6 with a four-part concept album, The Sound, The Speed, The Light. Matador Records says the LP “explores a set of moods or colors, across the usual dizzying array of lyrical topics, from alcoholism to fleshly concerns.”

Wax, of infamous man-on-fire “California” video fame (see below), will reunite for Riot Fest 2009 in Chicago. Will Wax’s return motivate diehard fan Rivers Cuomo of Weezer to make better music? I guess we’ll have to wait and see.

Leonard Cohen is tired of hearing “Hallelujah” everywhere.

“I was reading a review of a movie called Watchmen that uses it, and the reviewer said, ‘Can we please have a moratorium on ‘Hallelujah’ in movies and television shows?’ And I kind of feel the same way. I think it’s a good song, but too many people sing it.”

Might I suggest Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds‘ “Hallelujah” instead?

Finally, I’m glad former Faith No More and (very brief) Bad Brains frontman Chuck Mosley re-surfacedfrom obscurity — if only to share with us the title of his solo debut LP: Will Rap Over Hard Rock For Food (out August 11).

Wax “California”

Faith No More “We Care A Lot”

Punknews.org reported this week that Long Island emo-rockers Brand New named and dated their upcoming fourth album. And One Head Can Never Die is scheduled to drop September 22, sandwiched between new albums by Muse (9/14, hopefully the next day in the U.S.) and AFI (9/29).

UPDATE: According to Aversion.com, Brand New renamed their forthcoming album Daisy.

As much as I love and revere Muse, my hopes and expectations are even higher for Brand New. While frontman Jesse Lacey never hesitated to elaborate his deepest, inner-most feelings even dating back to their pop-punk-leaning debut Your Favorite Weapon (2001), the musical progression showcased on the band’s two successive albums dwarfs his still-impressive growth as a lyricist. Deja Entendu (2003) and The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me (2006) find two almost completely different bands, each superior to the last.

With Brand New progressing by leaps and bounds with each release, why does the end now draw near? (VIDEO AFTER THE JUMP)

In a recent interview Lacey discussed his inspiration behind the new album.

I think a lot of the record is about us trying to make decisions about how long the band should go on. When I listened back to it, I realized how many songs are about something coming to a close, or knowing when it’s time to put something away and move on.

Three year gaps preceded both Brand New’s forthcoming and previous efforts. Jesse Lacey, as many emo heroes are wont to do, bares his soul in every song — a time-consuming process. Lacey also claims, “I’ve never made money off a record sale.” After spending nearly a decade recording four albums, he’s clearly pondering the end of this band.  Will And One Head Can Never Die Daisy send Brand New off on a high note?

I’m a little worried [about the new album]. It’s a pretty exhausting record. It’s quite dense and I think some of the decisions we made don’t always go in the most obvious direction. We were thinking a lot more about what we’d want to play when we were up onstage rather than actually what you’d want to hear on a record.

The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me was as challenging and exhausting an alt-rock record as I’ve heard over the past several years. While quite dynamic compared to their previous output, Devil And God exhibited a brooding darkness so thorough not even its most upbeat moments like the anthemic “The Archers Bows Have Broken” and the poppy “Not The Sun” can escape the melancholy. As a Brand New fan, Jesse Lacey’s anticipation excites me.

“The Archers Bows Have Broken” off The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me (2006)

“Jesus Christ” (live) from The Late Show With David Letterman (2007)

“Sic Transit Gloria…Glory Fades” off Deja Entendu (2003)

I had low expectations for Stump’s Supper Club and Howl at the Moon at Channelside. I thought about all the half-hearted piano-based lounge acts that I saw in Vegas and New Orleans, and I wasn’t exactly excited to go. After wrestling with the idea, I decided to give it a try and I’m glad I did.

I went on Thursday night, met up with the piano men and got a front row seat while I was waiting for them to start. The place was pretty dead at 10 p.m., but people began trickling in as the set started. It’s important to note that this isn’t your granddad’s piano bar. The songs they play are all pop hits from the last 40 years, and they draw on the crowd for suggestions.

Some of the songs are obvious choices, like Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” and Jim Croce’s “Bad Bad Leroy Brown.” Others, such as their piano rock renditions of Sir Mix-A-Lot’s “Baby Got Back” and Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face” were stunningly powerful and funny renditions. Since this is an 18+ venue, the language took a turn for the blue during some of the songs, often parodying the lyrics of the pop song. For example: “I want to poke her face, pa-pa-poke her face.. with my weiner.”

You can thank Ty Chaney for that little ditty. His showmanship is nothing short of Vegas quality and his attention to detail and honest interactions make him the kind of performer I wish I could see every night. His accompanying piano man, Dan Slyker, is all the wingman a piano-playing entertainer could ask for. When he’s not on the ivories, he would hop behind the drums to fill out songs as needed.

The fun of Howl at the Moon is being an engaged audience member. You’ll find yourself singing along at full volume. You’ll have a pile of song suggestions scrawled out and passed up to the piano men, who will gladly take tips to play your tune. You’ll most likely be surprised at exactly how much fun this all is.

These pianists’ stories need to be heard. Anyone who can start out “White Rabbit” loud and get progressively louder only to follow with the most insane version of “Welcome to the Jungle” is worthy of praise and attention. Stumps Supper Club and Howl at the Moon, 615 Channelside Dr., Tampa, 813-226-2261.

Denis Baldwin can be seen crashing events and taking photos all over the bay area on his own site, MyTampaLife.com.

Five years ago, any music industry conference would feature hours of discussion about how to get your compact disc into the hands of DJs on FM radio, or tips on how to press and package a CD that wouldn’t get buried on the desk of an A&R executive at some major label. A lot has happened in five years. On Saturday, June 13 and 14, Hillsborough Community College and The Artist and Writers Group hosted the Second Annual Homemade Music Symposium in Ybor City, and in the combined 18-plus hours of discussion, commercial FM radio was not mentioned one time.

Instead, Saturday’s daytime programming included panels and workshops like “Alternative Media Promotion,” “Marketing, Touring and Band Management” and “How to Get the Most Out of a Studio Session.” Panelists included bloggers (Bryan Childs, Ninebullets.net), social networking specialists (Julia Gorzka, Brand Tampa) and local media (Lee Courtney, WMNF; Curtis Ross, Tampa Tribune; Julie Garisto, St. Pete Times as well as Creative Loafing’s Leilani Polk). Mr. Courtney was the only radio personality in attendance. (Tampa’s 88.5 FM is a community station that still allows their DJs to play CDs – they even sometimes play records.).

The Homemade Music Symposium’s goal is to educate nascent and struggling musicians in the ways and means of the music business and industry trends. It also included out-of-town industry folk and special keynote speakers – this year, it was Tunecore’s Peter Wells and Tony Michaelides, a local author from Manchester, UK, who’s colleagues and contemporaries include Factory Records’ Tony Wilson, David Bowie, U2 and The Stone Roses.

Conference attendees were mostly solo singer-songwriter types, with a sprinkling of MCs, publishers and managers as well as other local bloggers and marketers looking to get involved in the music scene or learn about new media. There was a lot of talk (maybe too much) about Twitter and Facebook, and of course the familiar geographical gripe of how Florida is difficult to tour/break out of, because there are no surrounding states (The closest top 10 market is Atlanta). A good portion of the crowd was visibly older, some dressed in flowery shirts and flip flops, and plenty of eyes glazed over when the topics inevitably circled back to “Tweeting” and social networks.

Sorely missing from the panel of experts, especially on the panel labeled “Area Record Labels and Artist Managers,” were representatives from the handful of local Tampa imprints, namely ADD, New Granada and 24 Hour Service Station (Geri X, Win Win Winter and The Beauvilles). 24 Hour owner Marshall Dickson stated that he would definitely be involved next year, but that this time around he just had “too much on his plate.” The only current label owner in attendance was Ivan Pena, who runs Mohawk Bomb Records (Soulfound, Ascending to Avalon and Rise of Saturn). Pena seemed optimistic about the Tampa Bay music scene, and about the fast-changing online industry, but insisted that artists need to tour incessantly and start treating their band like a business or risk failure.

The “Music Critics” panel, unfortunately the last session of the day, seemed to be the most pessimistic. One girl in the crowd asked for suggestions on how to become a music writer. The entire panel discouraged her. It may be in fashion for music writers to be moody and begrudging, but one would think their passion for music could somehow keep their chins up, not to mention grateful that they still have jobs in the age of Rotten Tomatoes and aggregated, user-generated reviews at Amazon.com.

As with any conference, the nighttime showcases are the payoff – a chance for attendees to party and an opportunity for the out of town industry folks to see what musical talent the surrounding area has to offer.

On Saturday night, Tampa’s New World Brewery featured performances from Rebekah Pulley, Lorna Bracewell, The Skull and Bone Band and 10th Concession. Crowbar hosted a Mohawk Bomb showcase and The Roosevelt had planned a “green” concert featuring some area hip-hop favorites like Dynasty and powered by a generator that ran on vegetable oil. Early Saturday, word had gotten out that the generator had broken during a run-through and that the Roosevelt showcase was cancelled.

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Sunday’s activities were mainly centered around The Bunker in Ybor City, which is home to the Tre Amici coffeeshop, REAX Space, a few art galleries and the neighboring Ybor City Museum.

Some of Sunday’s workshops included “DIY Sound Recording Techniques” at REAX Space as well as “Tips on Promotional Photography” (hint: no brick walls or train tracks) and “The State of The Scene” discussion at Tre Amici.

This talk was moderated by event organizer T. Hampton Dohrman and featured Courtney, Joel Cook (REAX) and yours truly. It began as a polite enough re-cap of the weekend and what could be done differently in years to come and escalated into a microphone free-for-all on how Tampa needs to publicize itself to become the next Austin or Seattle.

Singer-songwriter Emily Roff planted herself in front of the microphone and made a case for a large music festival that would draw thousands of people from all over the world. When some crowd members yelled, “What about [Tropical] Heatwave?” (referencing the annual music fest hosted by WMNF that typically features performers from the blues, folk, Americana and world beat genres), Roff shrugged. She’d never heard of it.

Beauvilles frontman Shawn Kyle made a spirited appearance at the discussion, only half-jokingly announcing his 2012 bid for city council and bemoaning the lack of attention the local media and concert promoters give to area college campuses (USF, UT, Eckerd, SPC, etc.).

What did come from the heated discussion was a summation of points that included the following:

1. The internet has replaced FM radio as a highly-coveted media outlet.

2. Musicians must treat their music as a business.

3. Musicians should treat Tampa and St. Petersburg as two separate markets to avoid saturation. (This point was argued)

4. Even though recording and distribution has become decentralized, quality recordings and the packaging and presentation of materials is still very important (maybe even more so).

5. Bands must tour out of market (once they have established themselves regionally).

6. With the decline in the sale of actual recorded music, musicians must learn to diversify their content/revenue streams to include audio, video, performances, merchandise, ringtones et. al. and utilize networks and messaging to stay in touch with fans and followers. (See the content model here).

7. Music criticism is dead. (This point was not argued).

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Here are some photos from the weekend:
Photos by Kelly Hickman | Photos by Denis Baldwin

Random news bites from the last several days (excluding anything about Michael Jackson … well, mostly).

Regina Spektor’s new album, far, debuted at No. 3 on the Billboard 200 this week and the lovely Russian-born songstress is scheduled to perform on Late Night with Conan O’Brien on Thursday, July 30. Slipping to the No. 2 spot this week are the Jonas Brothers with Vines And Trying Times, which held last week’s No. 1 position. Black Eyed Peas have moved to the top of the charts with The E.N.D. And in case you BEP fans were worried, the title doesn’t foreshadow the band’s immenint break-up, but stands for “The Energy Never Dies.” Clever.

Seattle grunge metal makers Alice in Chains have confirmed the dates of their upcoming world tour, sans lead voice Layne Staley, who, if you recall, faded away into reclusivity before he speedballed to his death in 2002. The tour supports the band’s first new studio release in more than 10 years, Black Gives Way to Blue (in stores September 29). The first single, “A Looking View,” is currently streaming on their MySpace page and definitely has the feel of classic Alice in Chains, complete with the hard-meets-soft harmonies by vocalist/guitarist Jerry Cantrel and Staley replacement, vocalist/guitarist William Duvall. Here’s a statement the band released about the new song: “The song basically speaks to any number of things that keep you balled up inside. A cell of our own making with an unlocked door that we choose to remain in. Focusing our attention inward instead of reaching out to a much larger world. I think this is common to us all. It’s funny how hard we fight to hang on to a bone we can’t pull through a hole in the fence, or how difficult it is to put down the bag of bricks and move on.” Current confirmed U.S. stops include Detroit, DC, Chicago, NYC, Milwaukee, Portland and San Francisco. No telling whether the tour will bring them to Florida.

San Francisco indie rock duo The Dodos (pictured) are set to release their third album, Time To Die, via Frenchkiss on September 15. Produced by Phil Ek (Built to Spill, Fleet Foxes, The Shins), the album is marked by the band’s key instrumental elements — the energetic percussion of Logan Kroeber and the finger-picking acoustic guitar work of frontman Meric Long — with extra texture created by Keaton Snyder on vibraphone. The Dodos will embark hit the road this September and October, making stops in Tallahassee on Tuesday, October 6 at the Club Downunder, and in Atlanta Wednesday, October 7 at The Earl.

American-Australian multi-instrumentalist singer-songwriter John Butler has returned with an all-new trio and a forthcoming album featuring the fresh lineup, which includes two Aussie natives: drummer/percusionist Nicky Bomba and bass player Byron Luiters. The John Butler Trio is not coming to a venue anywhere near you, but watch out for the new album. Butler’s a pretty great songsmith.

Jeff Tweedy has always gotten under my skin. As much as I like Wilco’s music, the frontman makes headlines far too often for some asshole maneuver — like when he punched an over-rowdy fans in the face when a simple “Get the fuck off my stage” would’ve sufficed — and he oftentimes comes off as a total dick and says mean things he can’t take back. The latest was the sort of stereotypical ugliness you’d expect towards the hippies of San Francisco. After his son Spencer went shopping in Berkeley and returned dressed head-to-toe in tie-dye, Tweedy reportedly cried, “Look what you’ve done to my son, you dirty hippies!” Then, to his son, he yelled, “Now go take a bath.” What a classy guy!

All right, I know I promised no Michael Jackson news, but I just had to share this little tidbit: Jermaine Jackson, Michael’s far less successful older bro, has followed the path of the rest of the family and made a statement. “”He went too soon. I don’t know how people are going to take this, but I wish it was me.” What I want to know is, when did Jermaine lose his sense of self-worth? Poor guy.