Wow, the Entrance Band

It's fitting that the one word so aptly summing up the Entrance Band also happens to be the title of a Led Zeppelin album: presence. Watching the L.A. trio's captivating set at the Cafe Du Nord on Wednesday was akin to bearing witness to perhaps the most truly rock 'n' roll event of this week's Noise Pop! fest. And though they've been around some years, I hadn't even heard of Entrance until learning of the show. Apparently, Entrance is this total guitar guru guy (whose real name is also Guy, Blakeslee for completion's sake) who put together a psychedelic blues rock band with two musicians equal in musical wizardry: Paz Lenchantin on fat, phat bass, from Argentina and A Perfect Circle, and drummer Derek James, pretty much a percussively flawless maniac. Entrance, on guitar and vocals, is the real deal. Playing a right-handed guitar turned 'round with his left hand, his technical proficiency blows minds with effortless, wicked-smooth solos ala Hendrix over utterly rocking Zeppelin hard blues. Though his singing sounds strained at times, it's also vindicated by its guidance from earth, air, fire and water. Judging from the eager headbanging within the Du Nord audience on Wednesday, Entrance already counts a legion of disciples, with my conversion sprouting during a segue into the Nirvana/Shocking Blue classic "Love Buzz." And at the end of the show, we learned that Entrance rock 'n' roll's not all about the sex and many, many drugs (What was that he mumbled into the mic about "sugar cube acid?"), but about politics, and songs for "the liberation of mankind." Mwah. They're badass! Exclamation point worthy. Check "Silence On A Crowded Train" from the '07 Folk Yeah! Fest:

Integrity: Not just any ole' nine-letter word

OK class. For today's show and tell, I thought I'd leave my cuddly, baby-blue teddy bear at home and instead share an interview with Minor Threat/Fugazi dude-extraordinaire Ian MacKaye for all the kiddies to enjoy. Check out his talk with the Electric Cafe at the Black Lodges site: http://blacklodges.com/features/index.php?kat=1&detail=364 For all his quotable quotables, MacKaye's a shoo-in for the next edition of Bartlett's. "I think it is really absurd for a sneaker to represent a lifestyle." Thank you, Mr. MacKaye. Going by a recent article in Pitchfork, it sounds like you need to have a talk with some of your peers in the music world. Except those dead ones, but there's always a Ouija board.

Show preview: Entrance Band, The Mumlers, honey.moon.tree., Golden Animals @ Cafe Du Nord, Wednesday 2/27

Judging from Noise Pop previews I've spotted so far, it'll be a challenge to find in-depth coverage of shows that don't involve Hollywood actresses or snarky NYC singers. Wednesday's lineup at the Cafe Du Nord may be filled with less prominent artists, but its unique array of the folky and the freaky show it's equally deserving of buzz, or discussion, or whatever you want to call it. You've got L.A. psychedelic blues act The Entrance Band as headliners, who've obviously time-jumped from a hard rock show housed in a 1960s drug den. Totally loud, totally far out, filled with unpretentious, unwanky guitar solos and a rocking sound to which you'll happily headbang along. Plus, they've got Paz Lenchantin, from A Perfect Circle among other wondrous associations, on bass duty. May the force be with them. Groovy, groovy, jazzy, folky San Jose act The Mumlers, who just released debut full-length Thickets and Stitches, somehow manage to ride smoothly down a loosely graveled road of genres, quite a feat for a band that crowds the stage with seven musicians. Singer Will Sprott drives the sound with soul and then some, as melancholy instrumentation completes the spectacle. Sounds like a party to me. Check out the stellarly-named honey.moon.tree., San Francisco freak-folky guys prone to jamming sad Americana tunes on an assortment of acoustic and percussive instruments. Expect heartfelt vocals, offbeat lyrics and plenty of quirks coalescing into a dark sound that's firmly removed from the present time and place. Late addition openers Golden Animals are, according to their MySpace page, from the desert, an interesting locale to spawn a band so thoroughly drenched in Southern blues. While their man-guitarist/woman-drummer makeup and blues focus may scream "White Stripes," their look and sound is more of a throwback to traditional '60s rock adaptations. So if you're down, get to the Cafe Du Nord around 9 p.m. Wednesday, with $14 and an ID that says you're 21+, yum.

Sit Sasquatch!, sit! Good bigfoot.

That other West Coast megaconcert was announced today and Jack Johnson isn't involved, reason enough for many a fan with good taste to look forward to the 2008 Sasquatch! Music Festival happening May 24-26 in Washington state. Though lacking in starpower, the cumulative lineup's pretty ace: R.E.M. / The Cure / The Flaming Lips U.F.O. Show / Death Cab For Cutie / Modest Mouse / M.I.A. / Flight Of The Conchords / Rodrigo Y Gabriela / Michael Franti & Spearhead / The Breeders / Built To Spill / The Hives / Tegan & Sara / Ghostland Observatory / Ozomatli / The New Pornographers / Blue Scholars / The National / The Kooks / Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks / Cold War Kids / Beirut / Rogue Wave / Okkervil River / Fleet Foxes / Kinski / Mates of State / Sera Cahoone / Crudo (featuring Mike Patton & Dan The Automator) / Battles / Destroyer / Dyme Def / The Blakes / Pela / Jamie Lidell / The Cops / Dengue Fever / Siberian / Say Hi / White Rabbits / David Bazan / The Little Ones / "Awesome" / Dead Confederate / The Heavenly States / 65daysofstatic / Grand Archives / Vince Mira with the Roy Kay Trio / Joshua Morrison / Throw Me The Statue / J. Tillman / The Shaky Hands / Thao Nguyen with the Get Down Stay Down / Matt Costa / The Cave Singers While I'm not feeling as nostalgic about catching headliners R.E.M. or The Cure (what have they been up to lately) as much as I'd like to witness the re-emergence of Portishead at Coachella, the lineup bursts with artists from Portland (Malkmus, Fleet Foxes, Bazan) and Seattle (Death Cab, Modest Mouse, Throw Me The Statue) - which works because everyone knows bands from those regions are totally amazing because the weather sucks so badly, and people stuck indoors within the shadows of gloom all the time make good art, ya know. Plus there's Sasquatch's $150 price tag for all three days versus Coachella's $269 passes, and the added bonus of your face not frying off under the omnipresent, blistering sun. What a deal. The Flaming Lips U.F.O. show? Unmissable in name alone, no further details necessary.

Let's celebrate an ode to dodgery

When it comes to interpretations of song lyrics, mi casa es su casa. All are welcome. I awoke this morning with Radiohead's "Faust Arp" coarsing through my brain. Frauds eventually get exposed, "the elephant that's in the room is tumbling, tumbling, tumbling." All this time you've been stuffed with lies, pipe dreams. But after awhile you can "squeeze the tubes" and see the nothing that's left. The blind faith you had was for "no real reason," you simply fell for an actor's performance. Watch as they "take a bow." So wake up and get real. Don't be "dead from the neck up." Stop fooling yourself or you'll melt into butter.

Radiohead give the thumbs up to ousting hippies from Golden Gate Park

After years of electroshocktherapy, self-hypnosis experiments and strawberry ice cream cones, my mind still swirls in a bog of childhood trauma. Oh, the flashbacks of Mom and Dad taking 12-year-old me to a Grateful Dead concert in Golden Gate Park, visions of hippie ganjarasta men peddling hastily Saran-wrapped vegan sandwiches, bread dirty like their hippie faces; tripped-out "old lady"s shaking asses out of rhythm in hippie dances as light rock less talk hippie music wafts through the pot smoke and I see hippies everywhere and their tie-dye and their hair, oh their hair, and the bare feet indecent on the grass and the soiled towhead children and the smells ... please, no more smells. But here come Radiohead to kiss my scarred memory and make it all better. The S.F. Weekly reported that the Outside Lands Festival, rumored to be the first nonhippie concert to ever stage at Golden Gate Park, will happen August 22 through 24 with Radiohead headlining. So it's not a done deal just yet, though most signs point to a go. While initially deflated because of my selfish need to see Radiohead play the smallest venue possible, I'm pretty amped that they'll be surrounded by so much lovely foliage whilst serenading me with "Weird Fishes" and "Bodysnatchers." And anything's better than the Shoreline. The full lineup has yet to be announced, but count Planet of the Apes football halftime show superstar Tom Petty in, as well as Coachella cockblock Jack Johnson. Yes, Jack Johnson again. Does he have to stink up every summer festival lineup? I envision more electroshocktherapy in my future.

Count.down.

Never before have I felt such an urge to visit Texas. Not even for South By Southwest. Not even to revel in the delight of hundreds of the latest and reputedly greatest bands, live. But here I sit, Indian-style and impatient, a preschooler with a naptime sugar high. Of course my lust for trekking to the land that spawned the antichrist involves Radiohead. What else? Following their announcement that a U.S. tour would commence in May; lukewarm on the heels of revealing the cities they'll play, which includes San Francisco; Radiohead finally gave their stalkers a reason to quit their jobs and cancel plans for the next three months by unveiling the first eight dates of their U.S. tour. Let the line-waiting begin: 05-05 West Palm Beach, FL - Cruzan Amphitheatre 05-06 Tampa, FL - Ford Amphitheatre 05-08 Atlanta, GA - Lakewood Amphitheatre 05-09 Charlotte, NC - Verizon Wireless Amphitheatre 05-11 Bristow, VA - Nissan Pavilion at Stone Ridge 05-14 St. Louis, MO - Verizon Wireless Amphitheatre 05-17 Houston, TX - Cynthia Woods Mitchell Pavilion 05-18 Dallas, TX - Superpages.com Center With Europe shows scheduled in June and July, looks like it'll be August before they come 'round San Francisco. Waaahhh waaahh. But I put my private-eye glasses on and deduced that since the named venues average about 20,000 capacity, the Bay Area stage they'll most likely grace is: Shoreline Amphitheatre. I might be wrong. Dallas and Houston aren't really that far away, are they?
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Remixes don't do it for me

Never have, never will.

Nothing better than free pancakes and magazines (except sex)

So I realize I am quickly characterizing myself as quite the cheapskate, what with all the raids of Bay Area library CD collections and my newfound scheme to hit every IHOP in the Greater Bay Area this Tuesday so that I can feast on truckloads of pancakes for an entire day - for free, and with four different delicious syrups to choose from. Mmmmmmm. Syrup. But back to me being cheap, or in more politically correct terms, broke. So I found out yesterday that Spin Magazine will offer an entire year of issues for free digitally via Spin's MySpace page. Mmmmmmm. Free music magazines. Every page is up for view; even the ads for those of you who delight in drivel. It's incredibly readable and so far, glitch-free. As you read, you can follow links to a band's (big surprise) MySpace page to actually hear their music and not have to rely on your tired imagination. Wait, is this an ad for IHOP, Spin and MySpace? I think I've just fallen victim to a clever marketing ploy - a hunger-satiated, well-read victim, that is.

Rant: And on the seventh day,God refused to give refunds

For all the pouty hipster mouths glued to the ass-tight pants of indie record stores and their supposedly "generous" return policies, I'm proud to say my lips will refrain from getting in on that action. Not when I'm denied a full refund on virgin CDs never once removed from their cozy, plastic bag wombs. Take a peek at many an indie music shop return policy: No refunds. Only store credit. And returns must be brought back within seven days. Are these beloved shops trying to trick me out of my money? Where is my satisfaction guaranteed? Yet despite this screwery, the part that draws drools from many consumers is that some stores offer a deal big-time corporate whore behemoths do not: 75% store credit on a return for any reason - helpful if parchance you bring a record home, deem it unfit even to line the bottom of a hamster cage and subsequently want to secure some capital toward a better musical choice. It's a nice gesture, but inconsistent with the "are you sure you don't want my first-born as well?" no refunds policy. Now I understand stores not wanting to have repeat run-ins with bargain bin craptastics like Tracy Bonham or NKOTB, or accepting returns of any used item for that matter. But what if I purchase a brand new $30 vinyl of "In Rainbows" for a friend, pre-discovery of the fact that they already own a copy. Can't I return this unopened, totally sellable-for-full-price record for a complete refund so that I can buy said friend a strawberry ice cream cake instead? According to Streetlight Records, Rasputin's and Amoeba, I am shit out of fucked. Break out the gyp stick and bend over. And the stipulation that all defective merchandise be brought back within seven days? What if "life" happens; I lag and don't bust out the latest Holy Fuck CD until eight days after purchase, only to discover that the CD itself is mechanically bunk? Will they really refuse my demand for a functional disc? Let's be reasonable. I'd expect some forgiveness. In the words of Jesus Christ and Uncle Jesse, "Have mercy." All I'm saying is why not expand that defect policy to at least an entire month? Also, give back all my money if, heaven forbid, I change my mind after buying a new item. Honestly, I am usually giddy leaving a record store and rarely have returns. It's just nice to have the option. And the prices those power-mad geek swindlers behind the counter accord for trade-ins? Don't even get me started.

CD review: Grizzly Bear "Yellow House"

Grizzly Bear is a miniature orchestra. Autoharp, banjo, bass, clarinet, drums, electronics and treatments, flute, glockenspiel, guitar, keyboard, lap steel, piano, saxophone, vocals, xylophone. Yellow House is a love album. "Chin up/cheer up/my love's another kind." Walt Disney and Co. (trademark) wishes Grizzly Bear made a "Lullabye" for one of their movies. Ones remixed by DJ Shadow. And not many people know that Pink Floyd's "Little Brother" sang just like him, all softly in people's ears to make their heads fall on pillows. One time the Beach Boys tried jabbing a "Knife" into a doo-wop Arcade Fire melody (I heard it was because they didn't like being compared to other bands). But no blood came out. Don't tell "Marla" I told you, but she said Grizzly Bear has a crush on Olivia Tremor Control. LOL! And try not to spoil the surprise, but Man Man "Plans" to take their four sober, earnestly harmonizing, goody-two-shoes younger siblings in Grizzly Bear camping. It's fun to hear miniature orchestras play campfire songs.

CD review: Division Day "Beartrap Island"

Music saved my life. What so many espouse in hopes that it'll accurately portray their all-encompassing obsession to outsiders. There's no need to be so dramatic, kids. We get it. (Note: I'm still waiting to hear someone profess "music killed me.") But the oft-exaggerated statement can have a ring of truth. Some bands craft albums so complete, so aurally comforting in moments of turmoil that it seems as if their songs really do "save" lives and restore optimism in a mind once clouded by self-destructive rumination. The four guys in L.A.'s Division Day produced such a work with the debut full-length "Beartrap Island," comparable to arguably the most "lifesaving" record in the indie rock realm: Neutral Milk Hotel's 1997 masterpiece "In the Aeroplane Over the Sea." "Beartrap Island" wields the same tactics as the '90s classic to hit all of a listener's sweet emotional spots: diverse song structures and sounds that create a dynamic experience; dark themes - fear, isolation, death - easily relatable and cathartic during fits of depression; unexpectedly sinister and abstractly poetic lyrics. And like Jeff Mangum, Division Day's endearingly off-kilter, front-and-center vocalist pulls off lyrics like "I want your blood inside my head" as, oddly, innocent. With all of the blood, blackouts, drowning and wrecks, the only thing masking the record's pervasive carnage is its pop sensibility. The band relies more on rock rather than Mangum's folk underpinnings, but they also tap into a range of genres: manic Nirvana-punk in a feedback-heavy "Ricky"; indie pop purity in "Catch Your Death"; "Reversible," a shadowy melody so rain-soaked it could have been on the Cure's opus "Disintegration"; and touches of My Bloody Valentine shoegaze dissonance in "To the Woods." The album droops only with the dubby "Hand to the Sound" and bland "Colorguard," which carry repetitive choruses past their expiration date. "Beartrap Island" forges a complete experience by using the title track opener's perverted church organ melody, cloaked in a drape of Sigur Ros guitar noise, on closer "Is it True What They Say?" A death has transpired, but reincarnation is still possible: "Is it true what they say?/that our shadows won't stay/up on high, but will fall/tumble back into the squall/and then hickup and spin/and be born all again." Division Day is a band that feels our pain, and sometimes that's all we need to hear. Check out Division Day's "Tigers" video:

CD review: Last American Buffalo "Marquis for the Debutante"

Produced by Last American Buffalo Recorded and engineered by Cameron Akrami at Akrami Studios in Glendora, CA, except for “Breaking Up Mine” recorded at Conway Studios and Westlake Audio in Hollywood, CA Mixed by Andy Carpenter and Jon St. James at St. James Studios in Fullerton, CA

A name like Last American Buffalo may at first conjure a country ensemble rather than an alternative radio hit machine. But on this solid full-length debut, Marquis for the Debutante, the Los Angeles four-piece proves a knack for crafting the same catchy melodies that propelled Coldplay to the top of the charts while at times channeling the melancholy soul of Wilco.

The band sticks to a formula, but it’s a good one. A buoyant keyboard launches robust opener “Breaking Up Mine” into an anger-infused tale of broken love, a recurring theme on the record. The springy guitar flourishes in the chorus of “Dance Class for a Madame” hearken back to the aforementioned British group; and by the catchy third track “Pistol,” whose alt-country guitar twang brings to mind a Badly Drawn Boy gone cowboy, Last American Buffalo’s savvy for straightforward song structures becomes evident.

With understated bass, drums, guitar and keyboard, spotlighted vocals become susceptible to the occasionally cliché lyrics. For example, as dueling keyboard and drums drive the Americana waltz of “For London Again,” Kevin Compton’s endearing voice just barely saves the tired chorus: “You stole the key to my heart / You’ve broken and shattered my every thought.” The glossy production also wears thin at times and the recording pleads for more rawness to beef up its intensity.

Saving the best for last, the band hits its high note on the somber closer “Sunshine.” Above a wistful church organ begging for forgiveness, perfectly stark acoustic guitar and the regret-filled flurry of a harmonica, Compton strikes a powerful chord as he confesses “I am looking to die / I am looking to lie.” In moments like this, Last American Buffalo reveals an honesty often missing from the airwaves. (Self-released) Originally published in West Coast Performer, February 2008