Column 19 -- Southwest Schmooze-a-thon

Just like thousands of other music junkies, I've always wanted to attend South by Southwest, the annual music festival/schmooze-a-thon held in Austin every March -- the perfect getaway as winter ends and spring break begins at most institutes of higher learning. But I've never made it to the Mecca for indie-music lovers.

And now I wonder if its time has passed. When SXSW was first launched almost 20 years ago, the idea was to put young and hungry unsigned bands in front of hordes of cigar-chomping record label honchos eager to find the "next big thing." Today, most of the bands accepted to perform at the 5-day event are well-established acts that are already signed to indie labels, and in fact are playing at label showcases. While only 700 people showed up for the first SXSW in '87, more than 7,000 were there last week.

Among them, fast-talking tech-wizard Jimmy Winter, the 20-something president and owner of Omaha-based Music Arsenal. No, Music Arsenal isn't some sort of weapon that sends intense beams of Slayer at unsuspecting foes, it's a web-based software service used to manage every facet of a CD's birth and life, from scheduling the CD's recording, mixing and mastering sessions, to post production, to marketing and retail sales, to organizing press, radio and the band's subsequent tour. Future versions will even allow record labels to manage inventory and royalty distribution. It's what the people in the tech biz call a "killer app."

So far only six labels have signed up for the service, but San Francisco-based Digital Rights Agency -- a broker that peddles small indie labels to online services such as i-Tunes and Napster -- just signed on, potentially bringing an additional 180 labels to the Digital Arsenal table. Not too shabby.

So like any good music entrepreneur, our man Mr. Winter decided to leave behind cold, gray Omaha and soak in some SXSW sun and fun while landing some new business. He and partner/advisor Sam Mandolfo set up five sit-downs and landed five clients. "It was total schmoozing," Winter said. "We met a ton of industry people and passed out a lot of business cards."

And saw some great bands, including The Black Halos, Tegan & Sara, Architects, The Coachwhips, 400 Blows, Radio 4, American Analog Set, newcomers Langhorne Slim and a little ol' band from Omaha called Statistics.

"That went really well," Winter said of the packed Statistics gig that was part of a Jade Tree and Touch & Go showcase at the Red Eye Fly. "We were standing right behind the music editor of The Hollywood Reporter, who was gushing all over them."

Statistics frontman Denver Dalley said the Red Eye Fly show gave the band a chance to get introduced to a few "industry types" and see some old friends who came to the show, including members of Little Brazil, Saddle Creek's Matt Maginn and some old pals from Sweden.

But is SXSW is still an important showcase for bands? "I'm not sure really," Dalley said. "It seems like there is too much going on (there) nowadays. People are running around like crazy trying to catch certain bands' sets. There are often lines that prevent people from seeing who they want to. It just seems like there is too much going on. At the same time, you can walk down the street and bump into so many friends you haven't seen in ages. It has its pros and cons."

Winter, on the other hand, said the lines weren't bad that long as you had a festival badge. "The meetings were good, but the bands were better," he said. "The worst part is that too many bands are playing at one time and it's hard to catch all the ones you want to see. You have to make some hard choices."

My guess is going back to Austin next year won't be a hard choice. And maybe this time he'll have some company. I could use the vacation.

I just placed an interview/profile of singer/songwriter Luke Temple online (read it here). He talks about his origins as a musician, his music, etc. I mentioned to Temple that even though so far on his tour he might have only played for small crowds to expect a SRO attendance at his O'Leaver's show Saturday. "Yeah, I've been told that," he said, already aware that Tim Kasher was the opening act. Seems Kasher is pals with some of the guys from The End of the World, Temple's co-headliner/touring band.

Tonight's main attraction is Maria Taylor (Azure Ray), Steve Bartolomei and Dan McCarthy at The Goofy Foot (10th & Pacific). If I go, I'll give a rundown on the whole place in tomorrow's review. But there's a good chance I won't make it down there tonight. The Todd Solondz film Palindromes his having a special showing tonight at The Dundee Theater with Solondz in attendance answering questions following the screening. It's only $5, but I don't know if you can buy advance tickets (and knowing the dark themes in the film, if you'd need to, anyway). Then there's Mike Tulis' monthly Movie at O'Leaver's night tonight, featuring We're All Devo. Read about the film and event here.

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Two hot shows tonight: Ladyfinger with Stnnng and Falcon Crest at O'Leaver's. Gotta believe Ladyfinger will open since the other two bands are out-of-towners. For all the info you need, go here. The other show is Seattle's The Cops with Little Brazil and The Third Men at The 49'r. I'll be at one of them... probably.

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Our pals Neva Dinova will be showcasing their new CD, The Hate Yourself Change, tonight at Sokol Underground. I still have yet to hear it, despite the efforts of various publicists and Roger Lewis. And I'm still not sure what label it's on. Roger has insisted that Crank! didn't release it, but if you go to www.crankthis.com you're met with a full-screen ad for the CD. Niz in yesterday's Omaha World-Herald also reported that Crank! was their label (in this story). Meanwhile, go to the Sidecho Records site and there it is as a Sidecho release. And then there's Rolling Stone online, who says the CD was released by Sony (see here). So who knows. I always thought it would be released on Saddle Creek, but obviously that never happened. I guess it doesn't matter what label you're on if you can grab the opening slot on a Bright Eyes tour, as they did recently.

Also on tonight's Sokol dance card are Ted Stevens playing a solo set -- expect to hear some stuff off the new Mayday CD, which will be released by Saddle Creek -- and Lincoln's The Golden Age. $7, 9 p.m.

If you're going to Sokol tonight, you better get there early, folks. Motorhead is playing an all-ages show upstairs at Sokol Auditorium with Corrosion Of Conformity. Parking could be tough. I'm thinking of curling up to some nice NCAA action at The Brothers, which -- with these two shows going on -- will be nice and vacant.

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Sometime in the future, maybe 20 years from now when I'll probably still be propped up behind some sort of machine that's used for writing, I'll look back fondly on O'Leaver's and recall last night's show as a prime example of that tavern's golden age. Maybe 40 people were there last night, plenty of room to walk around, grab a beer, talk to fellow drinkers/music-goers as we waited for The Silos to get started. And the whole time wondering why more people weren't there, no crowd anyway. Here was a band that is arguably one of the inventors of what's come to be known as "alt-country" -- veritable legends -- playing in a bar with a capacity smaller than a mid-town Denny's. I shake my head in disbelief. While every local rube is whining about the hundreds they doled out and the personal ordeals suffered trying to glom onto a pair of U2 tickets so they can be corralled like cattle into a blimp hanger and assaulted by shitty sound while watching a band well past its prime perform on big-screen monitors -- for five bucks they could have seen a band that is as good -- if not better then -- they were 15 years ago while standing mere feet away from the lead singer.

But I digress. The Silos were nothing less than pristine last night. Every aspect of the trio's performance was honed to pure perfection; playing music that was more rock 'n' roll than anything I'd consider "alt country." Frontman Walter Salas-Humara played an amped acoustic guitar and sang like he's been doing it for 20 years but with a passion of a kid playing his first gig. The burley, bespeckled bass player seconded on pedal-steel, and also happened to sing perfect harmonies on almost every song. And then there was the drummer -- at least 15 years younger than Salas-Humara, he was some sort of rhythmic god, a super-realistic portrait in precision, a wunderkind of dynamics so freakish in talent that the crowd just stared in awe.

Was it the best performance I've heard at O'Leaver's? Probably. The sound guy, who's been through countless nights of shows there in the past couple years, said so. We chatted afterward, wondering why The Silos never made it big like Uncle Tupelo only to admit that Uncle Tupelo never really made it big, either, at least not while they were still together. They were big only to the people that knew them. And to a certain extent, so were The Silos. It was only due to the later success of Wilco that Tupelo is now considered a legendary band. Meanwhile, as the '90s waned, The Silos were quickly forgotten, though the band continued to soldier forward in one form or another all these years.

They played a lot of songs off their new CD, When the Telephone Rings, but also a few from The Silos record (the only one I own) that I recognized, including "Caroline" and "Commodore Peter." (While buying a T-shirt in the back of the room after the set, I noticed among the stack of CDs a plain-packaged one that said, "The one with the bird on the cover" which, of course, is The Silos. I asked Salas-Humara what happened to the artwork and he said RCA still owned the rights. He was unashamedly selling bootlegged copies of his own record.) In addition to my old favorites, the highlight was a song called "Let's Take Some Drugs and Drive Around" -- the title says it all. And the set closer, a solo number called "Susan Across the Ocean" that featured that amazing drummer, up from behind the set singing harmonies -- a real goose-bump moment.

It'll go down as just another special performance at O'Leaver's, another in what's become a series. It's a shame that none of these shows have been recorded, if only for posterity's sake. It would be nice to have a Live from O'Leaver's CD to remember all these great shows, but I guess my memory and these blog entries will have have to do.

Tonight, yet another good show at O'Leaver's -- former Thrasher photographer Nik Frietas and his band, Kite Pilot, and our old friend Mr. Kyle Harvey.

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Column 18 -- Muck Surfing for Roses

Probably the most common question I get: "What have you been listening to lately?" Last year alone I received a few hundred CDs in the mail for review, most of them pure crap. But hey, that's the deal. You swim through the acres of cowflop to find that one perfect rose, and when you do, you want to share it with all the other muck surfers. That's what being a music critic is all about. That said, here's what's floated to the top of the heap recently.

50 Foot Wave, Golden Ocean (Throwing Music) -- The sweet-voiced, demure Kristen Hersh who emerged in the '90s with Throwing Muses and withdrew in the '00s with her fey solo projects on 4AD, has re-emerged once again. And this time she's pissed. No woman since (early) PJ Harvey or the late great Courtney Love has rocked so hard so well with so much intensity. As punk as it is anthemic, this is a brutal, bruising guitar rock record that burns with Hersh's throaty, snarling voice singing (screaming) lines like "I've never been afraid to die / I've never been afraid before." Guttural.

Maria Taylor, 11:11 (Saddle Creek) -- Along with Orenda Fink (or is it Fink-Baechle now?) Taylor makes up the duo Azure Ray -- a folksy, mousy and somewhat withdrawn project that's all about harmonies and broken hearts. Alone, though, Taylor takes on a new intensity with music that throbs and pounds and breathes with a beauty that pops more than wilts. Which is a fancy way of saying I like this better than the Azure Ray records, mostly because it prefers to quietly rock than quietly whimper. With a Fink solo CD coming out later this year on the same label, this creativity influx can only mean good things for Azure Ray fans.

A Frames, Black Forest (Sub Pop) -- The march-of-the-metal-soldiers intro foreshadows the angular, industrial nightmare that lies ahead, like listening to a million Gang of Four robots cut loose in Kraftwerk land. Consisting of former members of Cows, Butthole Surfers and Scratch Acid, Seattle's A Frames creates a stern-faced, thick-chorded racket that bludgeoned fans of The Fall will recognize immediately for its barren, Cold War sheen. Touch my monkey. Go ahead, touch it.

Iron & Wine, Woman King (Sub Pop) -- Breathy folker Samuel Beam, a.k.a. Iron and Wine, already has been embraced by the same O.C. crowd that's been gobbling up copies of the Garden State soundtrack like they were coupons for free cell service. Don't be dissuaded by the cool-kid factor. From its rat-a-tat mantra-like title track to its urgent, harmony-tinged, finger-picking closer, any of the six songs on this EP would make perfect mix-tape fodder. An acoustic-powered gem.

South San Gabriel, Carlton Chronicles: Not Until the Operation's Through (Misra) -- The side project by Centro-matic frontman Will Johnson sports the same dust-covered rural melodies as that band's best, minus the roar. Instead of muscular feedback, Johnson prefers a pretty pedal-steel or piano part, making this dimly lit afternoon music. Johnson's gravel-pit mewing is bound to make him the Eddie Vedder of our generation thanks to a pure distinctiveness that will be emulated by every bar-whore band in the Midwest if it ever gets discovered beyond the in-the-know indie crowd.

Robbers on High Street, Tree City (New Line Records) -- Red hot from the mean streets of NYC, the Robbers have only been churning it out since the summer of 2002 and already they're this year's "future of rock" band. I don't know about that, but you could do a whole lot worse. Their laidback rock-with-an-edge gets compared to The Strokes but more closely resembles Spoon or Wheat, with a giddy-up pop-rock sheen that glows from crooner/heartbreaker Ben Trokan's sweet, sweet swagger. Produced with Peter Katis (Interpol, Mercury Rev, Get Up Kids), look for Tree City on a radio near you, eventually.

Little Brazil, You and Me (Mt. Fuji) -- Local heroes get it right on a pop-rock keeper featuring Landon Hedges' quirky, forlorn voice.

Heavy Trash, Heavy Trash (Yep Rock) -- Jon Spencer's latest is cooler and cleaner than anything that hepcat has done in years.

Holy Ghost, Welcome to Ignore Us (Clearly) -- Former Lincolnite Chris Heine (Urethra Franklin, Opium Taylor) and his gang of NYC devils vamp up their angular punk sound for the better.

A reminder about that Silo show tonight at O'Leaver's. They're the opening band and, according to their website, will be going on at 9 p.m. sharp! See you there.

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Seems like there are a lot of alt-country bands these days, so much so that alt-country has become a cliché term. People now call it Americana or Roots Rock or some such thing. But back in the day, the only term for twangy, rural-fied rock was alt-country. I was never a big fan of the style, mainly because I don't much care for the yee-haw grinnin' quality of country music. Or, as the owner of The 49'r once put it, country music makes me car sick. That it does.

That said, whenever an alt-country act would roll into town someone would ask me if I was going to the show. My reply was universal: "I'm not really into alt-country, except for maybe The Silos." I usually got a blank stare in return. No one had heard of The Silos, and around here, most consider Uncle Tupelo the originators of the genre. But five years before No Depression came out, The Silos had released Cuba, which pretty much defined alt-country, for me at least. In fact, they followed it up five years later with their RCA debut, The Silos, which is one of my favorite records. But though they won their share of critical huzzahs, The Silos never really caught anyone's attention, instead being overshadowed by Uncle Tupelo, which became Son Volt and Wilco, and so on.

So time passes and I'm clicking through the O'Leaver's website the other day, looking at the calendar of upcoming shows, and lo and behold, what's listed for tomorrow night but The Silos (O'Leaver's website appears to be down for the count right now, so you're gonna have to trust me on this). When I read it, I laughed out loud thinking some poor local schmucks took the band's name not knowing who The Silos were. It had to be a mistake, especially considering that The Silos were the opener for a bill headlined by The Dead Science (ex-Xiu Xiu) and local phenoms Le Beat -- neither of which have anything at all to do with alt-country. But just for kicks, I googled "The Silos" to see if they had a website, and of course discovered that the band playing Wednesday night is, in fact, "The Silos" (see for yourself). The band is just returning from a tour of Germany and an appearance at SXSW (playing at the GBV Hoot at Emo's no less). Of course, there hasn't been one iota of press about this show, and maybe that's a good thing considering O'Leaver's tiny capacity, etc. I beseech anyone who has even a scintilla of interest in alt-country to catch a band that really helped define the genre. You may never get another chance.

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If you don't know it already, frontman and head pornmaster Tim Moss is one of the godfather's of Omaha punk rock, having glowed brightly during the city's golden age with gutter-groove band Ritual Device before being exiled to San Francisco and all its glammy decadence. The new Porn album, Wine, Women and Song, on stoner label Small Stone, continues Moss's travels into grinding, tonal, sludge metal/noise with double-digit-length songs designed to drain you of your will to live. This time out he has veteran drummer Dale Crover (Melvins) and bassist Billy Anderson (Sleep, Orange Goblin). Read about the band's history and the last time they came through Omaha here. Local metal giants Bloodcow open. I expect this to be a monster show. $5, 10 p.m.

--Post 'em here.--

Some thoughts on last night's The Show is the Rainbow CD release party at Sokol Underground, where around 110 showed up:

I missed Shineyville and Milk, thanks to Wake Forest. I caught Caught in the Fall. The guy running the show said they were a hardcore band. I wouldn't call what they do "hardcore," but what do I know? I'm not exactly an expert on the genre. The people who were surrounding them on the floor seemed into it, and that's all that really matters. Jabid was a guy who performed over recorded synth/videogame music/noise paced at about 300 bpm while gameshow footage and "shock" video (operating procedures, disease images, conjoined twins) was shown on a screen behind him. He also performed on the floor.

The Show is the Rainbow a.k.a. Darren Keen, used the screen to show a video during his performance, which took place both on and off the floor. The proceedings began with Darren lambasting the soundguy about the house music -- Joy Division's "Love Will Tear Us Apart." Said Darren, "I hate The Cure. Turn that shit off!" I still don't know if he knew… well, whatever.

Mr. Keen performed his entire CD, Radboyz Only!!!, in sequence, Cursive-style. If you haven't seen TSITR before, it's Darren singing/rapping over a CDR of his music interspersed with yelling at the crowd and assorted wicked dance moves. He's an entertainer. In the past, Darren did his shtick from the floor with the lights on, running around the crowd, yelling in their faces -- a true entertainment outreach program. And the crowd got into it. Unfortunately, most of that interaction was lost with his new video -- a homemade i-movie affair that mixed footage of Darren and his friends with mod graphics, text, etc., all sequenced to the music. Sort of like The Faint's deal, but on a smaller scale. And just like with The Faint, the crowd tended to keep its eyes on the video and not Darren, resulting in a rather dead audience.

Here's one example where the video was a deficit instead of an enhancement: In the past, one of Darren's funnier bits was his intro, where he lip-synched a prerecorded bit and filled-in the blanks, depending on where he was and who he was performing with. "It's great to be here at (fill in venue name)." It was a hoot. Now he uses a video that shows him in a shower reciting the intro (he still fills in the blanks live). Interesting, but not as funny. On the other hand, some of the video footage was hysterical and effective, such as the shot of a young GW flipping off a television camera before an interview, repeated over and over, and the footage of Keen's mouth videotaped sideways. Don't get me wrong, it was a good little film, but it took away from a live performance that's already dependent on prerecorded audio and sucked the life right out of the audience.

The nine songs from the new CD are pure TSITR -- fun homemade beats, electric guitar touches, sound effects, and Darren's sissy rap mixed with falsetto crooning. Crowd pleaser "Up a Creek without a Saddle" was introduced as a song about how much he hates Bright Eyes. I couldn't make out the words because of the sound quality of the vocals (and I don't have a copy of the CD). A lot of it sounded more like a dig at scenesters who frequent indie rock shows. Ironically, one of the best songs off his new album, "Babe Born with Blue Eyes," is a ballad that sounds like a Bright Eyes song a la Digital Ash. I wasn't the only one who noticed this. Other highwater marks were "Jailbait Babycake," a catchy number about pop punk frontmen chasing after 14-year-old girls, and another slower number performed about halfway through the set.

All in all, TSITR's music can be fun and compelling, but it's the live show that makes TSITR TSITR. With the video, the lights out and Darren relegated to the front of the room, a lot of that live exuberance was lost. Plus there was no fake blood. When the set ended, Joy Division came back on and Darren again yelled for the sound guy to turn it off. Instead, he turned it up.

We all get a night off to prepare for Men of Porn and Bloodcow at The Brother's. Oh boy...

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Quite a different scene from the last Low show at Sokol Underground. For one thing, there were twice as many people there -- around 240 -- which is still somewhat disappointing, considering that Low is easily one of the most important bands currently on the road. Hell, they topped the CMJ charts for a month with their new album, and still most people around here never heard of them.

After a set by The Mariannes, which I missed due to the NCAAs, Kid Dakota took the stage as a two-piece -- just frontman Darren Jackson dressed to the nines in a black suit on electric guitar and vocals, and an intense Christopher McGuire on drums who I'm told performs with John Vanderslice. The music was droning rock, a good fit as an opener for Low. Jackson's voice is a facsimile of Thom Yorke's without the high-end, agreeable if somewhat limited melodywise. As the set progressed, Zak from Low joined in, along with Alan Sparhawk. I liked it, though the songs didn't sound like the stuff I've heard from the new Kid Dakota CD on the Chairckickers website. McGuire ended up being a real show-stealer. He was bundle of quirky mannerisms, changing his cymbals after every song and punctuating the set by raising his drumstick over his head then punching it through the snarehead, leaving it sticking straight out as he walked off.

Then came Low. Sparhawk was in a chatty mood, maybe he was nervous, though I doubt it. At one point he said, "I'm talking more than I'm singing tonight." The set began with "Monkey," off the new album, and from where I stood -- off of stage right, just behind the stack -- it sounded good. But Sparhawk was so disappointed that he wanted to play the song over. Apparently Mimi's bass drum hadn't properly mic-ed and couldn't be heard in the audience. After the soundguy hooked it up, Sparhawk was ready hit it again, but Zak talked him out of it. They would up playing it again during the encore.

I expected the performance to be an all-out rock bonanza, seeing as The Great Destroyer has very few lows (so to speak), but was pleasantly surprised by the mix of slow/quiet older songs with new uptempo rockers. The crowd, bustling with local music notables, was adoring -- one girl was draped over a monitor swooning the entire set, while another feverishly scribbled in a notebook -- I found out later that she was actually drawing sketches of the band (which actually looked pretty cool). One guy standing by the stage had his head bowed throughout the slower songs, reverentially. And yes, there were a few chatterboxes jawing about amps and guitars off to the side, but hardly a distraction.

Maybe because this was the first show after a few weeks off, but there were a number of noticeable technical glitches, specifically with Sparhawk's guitar rig. Pedals were missed at the worst moments (such as the explosion at the end of "When I Go Deaf"), and there were occasional dropouts. I could barely hear Mimi's cymbals all night. Despite that, it was another very special Low show, highlighted a brief acoustic set toward the middle, where Zak put down the bass and pulled out an acoustic guitar. It ended with Sparhawk dedicating "Death of a Salesman" to his dad, who was in the audience. The hubby-and-wife team of Parker and Sparhawk continue to amaze me with their pitch-perfect, brokenhearted harmonies -- the element that, for me, makes Low one of the most poignant and affecting band going these days. If you missed it, you missed a lot.

Tonight, of course, is The Show is the Rainbow CD release show at Sokol Underground with Jabid, Caught in the Fall, Milk and Shineyville. Five bands, though Darren Keen -- the show behind The Show -- tells me that Jabid only plays 11 minutes and Milk is a DVD puppet show. Watch out for flying blood.

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Tonight's Low gig at Sokol Underground should be something special. It's the band's opening show on this tour. "We've got some family coming down from South Dakota," Mimi said during our interview last week. I asked her what we could expect. Will it be the same sort of performance as the last time they came through? "For the most part," she said. "We're gonna be playing the new songs, which will add a new element to it. It's just us three. At one point we go acoustic. Zak pulls out an acoustic guitar. It's a break in the middle of the set."

Low is one of those bands that historically hasn't drawn well in Omaha -- only 130 in Feb 2003 (here's the review w/pics). I can't understand why. Maybe it's the lack of radio support or that fact that the band had a reputation for playing dark, hushed sets. Tonight's Low show will be anything but a downer, and for those who choose to miss this, it's their loss.

Opening the show is Omaha favorites The Mariannes and Kid Dakota, a band that's on the record label owned by Low, Chairkickers. As you would expect, Kid Dakota's music has a similar slow, quiet yet powerful sound, like a storm brewing on the horizon. Check out this song from the Chairkickers' site. See you tonight.

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Column 17 -- Creek Runoff

It was so long and detailed that you're probably still reading last week's cover story about Saddle Creek Records. Though it clocked in at just over 3,200 words I still had to cut 1,500 of exciting -- nay important -- information to make it all fit with those strangely inappropriate photos of the Creek staff looking beaten and broken (I wasn't responsible for the photo concept or the headline used in the printed version, which had nothing to do with the article). So instead of leaving data unwritten to eventually fade from memory, here's a few items from the Q&A session with Creek yes-men Robb Nansel and Jason Kulbel that didn't make the cut.

But first, a brief tour of the Creek's lavish new world headquarters, where the company was forced to move by a combination of success and landlords. Like their old Benson digs, the new offices are unmarked, making them difficult to find among the catacombs of alleyways south of 75th and Cass -- a faceless building hidden among faceless buildings. Once inside you still can't tell you're standing in the epicenter of the indie rock world. Sure, there's CD artwork on one wall from the latest releases by The Faint and Bright Eyes and The Good Life, but little else distinguishes the place from any other low-rent, start-up squatter's flat.

Nothing, that is, except for the sound equipment stacked in a shit pile in the center of the room, stuff that Kulbel said returned on the Bright Eyes bus. Among the goodies, a box containing the broken remains of an electric guitar, it's neck a jagged piece of well-lacquered wood. Somewhere the E-bay gods drooled.

To the left, the "graphics room" where designer/hero Jadon Ulrich slouched bleary-eyed behind a computer. His walls are barren except for a cartoon-quality fan painting of Bright Eyes' Conor Oberst looking as if he's standing on the face of the moon, his hair-swoop covering his face. "That came back on the bus, too," Jadon says, grinning. "Isn't it great?"

We stroll through the stock room, where boxes upon boxes of T-shirts, CDs and other "merch" are stacked in racks -- a huge improvement over the flotsam found in the dirty basement storeroom of their old offices. Adjacent is another room used for packaging. It's empty now, but it's easy to imagine a small squadron of T-shirted hipsters bent over the long table, joylessly stuffing envelopes with oversized hoodies.

Boxed in a windowed corner office in the back stockroom is the label's new accountant, Mike Brown, also working late (It's tax season, after all). Again, no artwork on his walls. The same holds true for Nansel's and Kulbel's offices. The walls are empty while the floors are crowded with packages, CDs and other junk. Nansel's office boasts a decent stereo system with a relic from the past called "a turntable." He brazenly shows off a Metallica box set that an industry goon has mailed him. "Look, it's numbered," he points to a little metal label on the case, "but this one, see, it doesn't have a number!" Cool, are you gonna E-bay it? Nansel scowls. "No, dude, I'm gonna listen to it."

Alright, alright, enough colorful description. Where's the newsy stuff I promised?

-- Kulbel and Nansel said Creek releases for '05 include a Cursive B-sides collection, solo albums by both members of Azure Ray -- Maria Taylor (called 11:11, slated for May 24) and Orenda Fink (out some time later this year, after her wedding to The Faint's Todd Baechle), and a new Mayday record. No mention of a new Desaparecidos album. When pressed, the duo just nodded their head, saying it seemed unlikely that Oberst would be able to record his tracks while on the road as originally planned.

-- Lincoln's Presto! Studios is moving to Omaha as their old Lincoln studios has a date with a wrecking ball. Mike Mogis recently purchased a large house at around 67th and Dodge that likely will be used as a studio.

-- The Faint's last album, Wet From Birth, has sold around 65,000 copies. Was it a disappointment considering the high hopes? Not at all, said Kulbel, though Nansel said he expected more. They predict another sales spike when The Faint hits the road with Bright Eyes for the Digital Ash in a Digital Urn tour later this spring.

-- The much rumored Bright Eyes documentary, which began filming a couple years ago, is dead, Kulbel said. Another documentary, however, is on the horizon.

Just placed online, an interview with Low's Mimi Parker (read it here). The story's focus is on how and why the band brings their kids with them on tour, their new album and why they've gotten louder over the years. I can unequivocally tell you that the new Low album, The Great Destroyer, is my favorite of their entire catalog -- it just plain rocks.

Among the stuff that didn't make it into the interview, I asked Mimi if the momentum created from the last two rather successful albums was what drew them away from Kranky to Sub Pop. "Maybe a little bit," Parker said. "We love Kranky. We were sad to go, but at same time, Kranky does things a certain way and we respect them for it, but we kind of just decided we needed to bump it up a bit and see what Sub Pop could do. Sub Pop has been working some great bands and had big successes."

But surely Low has had interest from the majors, right?

"Not really seriously," Parker said. "We had lunch with someone once. At the same time, we did kind of decide that it would be a crazy route to take. You're such a small fish in a big pond. Majors are so unstable now. People are coming and going so fast. You sign with someone and have an A&R person who loves you, and then they're gone and you're stranded there."

Ah, that same old story. Imagine if Low were on a label. I, too, can't see how it would work. I asked Mimi how she would react the first time the label guy called after hearing the new record saying "Where's the single?" She laughed. "I'd tell him that they're all singles."

Mark it down, Low plays at Sokol Underground Friday night with The Mariannes and Kid Dakota.

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So I never got around to putting my thoughts down on the Todd Grant concert yesterday afternoon because I was too busy writing a feature on Low that'll go online tomorrow morning, as well as putting together Column 17 for Thursday. Thus is life. I was also too bushed to go to Head of Femur last night (a review or impressions would be appreciated on the webboard).

That said, Sunday night's Todd Grant show was a real treat. Grant's band, featuring a scorching Mike Brannan on lead guitar (Who knew he was such a cocky axman? It's been a long time since Guerilla Theater.) and hammerin' Dan Crowell on drums was remarkable (Oh yeah, and that Tim Kasher kid who stood off to the side on bass was good, too. Something tells me he could go places). Grant looked comfortable and assured in the frontman position, and sounded like he never left the stage for all those years. A guy next to me called his music "run-of-the-mill roots rock" and maybe he was right, but for whatever reason this critic, who usually yawns at this sort of thing, loved it. It was Grant's whole-hearted love of performing these songs that made the set endearing -- you could tell that each one meant something to him, was written without thinking of style or genre or trying to make a hit. Grant writes and plays music because, well, that's what he does. It's been the bane and boom of his life. Vocally, he reminds me of a cross between Warren Zevon, Lou Reed and the long forgotten Gram Parker (Who owns a copy of Squeezing out Sparks? Anybody? Come on, people!). The songs ranged between quieter folky stuff with a kick to full-blown barroom rockers. The highlight was the closing number (an old Compost song, Grant told me afterward) that just blew the place up. You'll get a chance to see Grant and his band again April 2 at O'Leaver's.

Next up was headliner Dolorean. I had planned to take off right after the Grant set to get home and finish the Low story, but was talked into catching the front end of the singer/songwriter's set. I've never heard his records before and have been told that they're amazing. His stage show, however, was less so. Dolorean, a.k.a. Silverton, Oregon's Jay Clarke, has a voice and style that resembles Neil Young's quieter stuff to a fault. I couldn't shake the comparison. And while I dig Neil Young, and liked a lot of what I heard from Dolorean, I could never get my mind off the resemblance. There has to be more to this guy than that, but I didn't have time to discover it, heading home after the fourth song.

Tonight: Son, Ambulance, Jason Anderson (Wolf Colonel) and Mal Madrigal at Sokol Underground. Should be another good one -- which would make six night's of good shows in a row. Who needs SXSW, anyway? Show's at 9, tickets are $7.

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Yes, I went to the Todd Grant/Dolorean show last night, but you're going to have to wait until later today for a live review (sometime late this afternoon). Just a reminder, briefly, of tonight's big show: Head of Femur with The Holy Ghost and The Minus Story at The Brother's Lounge, 3812 Farnam. Show starts at 10 p.m. and is a measly $5. Will it be the show of the year? Maybe. But it's not the only show tonight: The Hold Steady is at Sokol Underground with The Oranges Band and Ladyfinger. That one's $8 and starts at 9. Check back here later for more.

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O'Leaver's continues to pick up momentum to the point where there's always an SRO crowd, at least for the last three or four shows I've seen there. Not huge, but big, respectable (though I'm told hardly anyone was there for The Flesh Wednesday night, but that's another story). The stars were out for The Nein last night. Plenty of local music notables, bands, label people. The Nein is The White Octave without Criteria's Stephen Pedersen (who was in the audience cheering on his former comrades). With a new CD out on Sonic Unyon, the band carried itself like seasoned indie rock veterans, playing tunes that sounded like typical angular indie rock with a hook. The lead singer/guitarist has a voice that (when you could hear it in the poor mix) was reminiscent of a young, gritty Elvis Costello -- a comparison that will seem out of the blue for these guys who would probably prefer to be compared to the usual suspects (Gang of Four, Pixies, etc.). Their music, of course, sounded nothing like Costello's. Overall, I guess I liked it, though we've all heard these songs before in one form or another. I think if they pulled it back they'd be better for it. That said, the CD is a keeper and worth finding.

You could blame the sound for The Nein's less than magnetic live performance, except for the fact that the band that followed never sounded better. It was the second time I've seen Little Brazil v. 2.0 and probably their best live performance. I've been hearing some of these songs for what seems like two years now (they still play the tunes that originally appeared on their self-produced demo). Little Brazil doesn't do anything terribly different than any other indie pop-rock band. They live off their rhythm section, specifically the bass lines that give all the songs an undeniable bounce. The secret ingredient continues to be Landon Hedges' clear-yet-quirky, almost forlorn voice that has the same strange lonely lilt as everyone's favorite green muppet - no, not just like it, but with that same sad, honest quality. He's got the voice of your little brother or the guy who sat alone in study hall reading comic books who wouldn't hurt a fly. He's pre-puberty Peter Brady. And maybe it's because I've heard all these songs so many times that the new one, which Hedges said they've only played live a couple times, seemed so good - a typical indie song that starts by focusing on Hedges and a spare guitar line, bleeds into a medium-tempo rocker and ends with the usual bombast, Hedges yelling the same line over and over before joining everyone else in the pounding. Little Brazil is first and foremost an indie rock band in the classic manner, but I have to wonder how they'd sound playing a set of straight-up electric ballads. As respectable as their new full-length is amidst the multitude of indie CDs crowding the bins these days, it's the next record that will push them out of that enormous and faceless pack. It has to.

Tonight, Whipkey, Todd Grant and Dolorean at Sokol Underground, $7, 9 p.m.

You got three days of shows this weekend. All good. No excuses. None. It all starts tonight with OK Go, Statistics and Rescue at Sokol Underground. I have never heard OK Go before. They're a Chicago trio. They're compared to The Beta Band, Modest Mouse and The Promise Ring by All Music. Well, two out of three ain't bad. I'm going tonight just to see Statistics again. The last time they played here, as a trio, they were lean and hungry, without any noodle-y keyboards or other flotsam, just plain ol' rock. For whatever reason All Music compares Statistics to Bright Eyes, The Faint and Grandaddy, three bands that they sound nothing like in the least (which immediately puts the OK Go comparisons into question).

Tomorrow night it's The Nein at O'Leaver's. The Nein, incidentally, is The White Octave without Stephen Pedersen. That said, they sound sort of like The White Octave without Stephen Pederson, but with a few more hooks in their bag of tricks. I've been listening to their six-song EP on Sonic Unyon and give it a well-deserved "Yes," especially for the song "Handout" which has a killer hook of its own. Opening is Doris Henson, of which I know nothing.

Then Sunday is Dolorean, a laid-back folk-rocky, harmonizing Elliott Smith-meets-Crosby-Stills-and-Nash type singer-songwriter. Pleasant enough, but I'm going for the opener, The Todd Grant Project (which I wrote about yesterday, scroll down), featuring Grant, Tim Kasher (The Good Life) on bass, Mike Brannan (owner/operator of The Ranch Bowl and Caffeine Dream) on guitar and Dan Crowell (ex-Digital Sex) on drums. Get there early to see a solo set by singer/songwriter Matt Whipkey (Anonymous American, INXS try-outs).

It doesn't stop there. There are also good shows coming on Monday and Tuesday, but we'll get to those later.

Column 16 -- Grant-ed a Second Chance

If you went to rock shows back in the '90s you've heard of Todd Grant, either as a solo act or as part of Compost, a band he fronted with Matt Rutledge, Mike Fratt and others.

Out of the blue last fall, a buzz began ringing around the city that Grant was back and working with none other than Tim Kasher, frontman of Cursive and The Good Life. Kasher mentioned the Grant project when I interviewed him last August, saying he and drummer Roger Lewis were involved and calling Todd "a good friend and a role model."

Role model? Some would raise an eyebrow over that one. After all, where had Grant been the last five or six years?

About a week ago, a friend of mine found a used copy of Grant's 1994 solo CD, Strangled Soul, at Cool Stuff for $4.99. He passed it onto me for research purposes. I spent the next three days enjoying a collection of music that has held up remarkably well over the years. Not your usual singer/songwriter fair, Grant's songs are like listening to pain spikes or peering into a cellar of dark loneliness. The CD sports song titles like "Valium & Coca-Cola," "Happy Going Nowhere," and "The Know," with its telling line, "Wouldn't it be better / To be left alone / Where these demons inside you / Can bother no one?" Grant has a showman's charisma, belting out the lines in a style that recalls Warren Zevon, and more recently, American Music Club's Mark Eitzel.

I got Grant's number from a local promoter and set up an interview. The days leading up to it, people came out of the woodwork with odd requests like, "Check out his teeth" or "Ask him about the scar on his back." Everyone had a weird Grant story. I expected a badly damaged, war-torn lost soul to show up at the Dundee Dell and not the hip-looking guy dressed in black with long black hair and soul patch, his girlfriend, Stephanie Wyscarver, in tow. Over a couple hours, a gallon of Diet Coke and too many cigarettes, Grant, 34, told me how drugs had gotten the better of him most of his adult life, and how he has managed to free himself.

"I had a lung removed when I was 17. The medication led to other drugs, and it all caught up with me in '99," he said casually between puffs. "One thing about being an outlaw, you can never turn to the law for help."

Grant says his turnaround began after getting arrested by the state patrol, who had been watching him for months. He said his three days in jail without drugs "were hell." He would eventually get probation and re-enter a methadone program that he'd preemptively began prior to the arrest.

And then he just disappeared. "From '99 until now, I haven't been out of the house," he said. "I don't know why I stayed disconnected for so many years. Methadone was the hard part. For two and a half years I didn't have a guitar, didn't write. I was literally a zombie."

When he finished the methadone program in January 2004, Grant slowly began rediscovering old acquaintances. Among them Wyscarver, who he's since moved in with. And Kasher, who had a different opinion of Strangled Soul. "Tim thought the songs were great, but that the production was too slick and over the top," Grant said.

Kasher, who had never produced a band before, took Grant as his first project. "Tim and I got together between his tours. We started practicing in the summertime and it came together quickly."

Between Cursive and Good Life tours, Grant and Kasher laid down tracks at Mike Brannan's Artery Studios, with Kasher on bass, Roger Lewis on drums, and Brannan on guitar. Old friends Matt Rutledge and Mike Daeges also are involved, while '89 Cubs guitarist Dan Brennan manned the board.

Grant says the new music isn't much different from the stuff on Strangled Soul, "but with Tim's arrangements, there are things that are undeniably Kasher-esque." With Kasher now back from tour, Grant hopes to finish the CD in the brief window of time before he leaves again.

In that window, Grant and a band that includes Kasher, Brannan and drummer Dan Crowell will perform on stage as an opener for Dolorean March 13 at Sokol Underground.

Grant said a label has expressed interest in releasing the finished recording, and perhaps a tour will follow. But after that, his future is blurry.

"I feel like there's still a lot of work to do, but I'm now in a position to do it," he said. "When I look back at what I've done and how I went about it as a beast, it's ridiculous to think that having cleaned up my act and grown up a bit that I wouldn't be able to pull it off with a clear head. It's humbling to know that after all I've been through that so many people still care."

Remember that scene in Ghost Busters where Sigourney Weaver's neighbor/accountant, Louis Tully played by Rick Moranis, hosts a party over at his apartment as a business write-off? The classic moment comes when Louis' blonde, pony-tailed girlfriend pouts because no one's dancing. "Maybe if we dance, everyone will join in," Louis says, and the two start doing a shag in the middle of living room. There was sort of a reenactment of that scene last night at O'Leaver's during United State of Electronica's set. Here's a band that's used to having people dance at their shows - their electrified disco demands it. Ah, but U.S.E. has never been to Omaha before, the home of sit-and-stare. About three songs into their set, I was beginning to worry that Omaha was going to live up to its no-dance reputation when the bass player from Aqueduct got up and started wriggling in front of the band in a desperate attempt to get people off their asses. Finally, someone got the bright idea of moving the tables and chairs out of the way, and the fun began. By the end of U.S.E.'s rather short set the entire area up by the band was crowded with sweaty white people trying to groove to the band's good-time music. It took awhile, but about half the crowd actually loosened up, though there were still plenty of people in the back sitting and nodding to the beat. Hey, I was dancing too... in my head.

Opening band Aqueduct was a pop trio of bass, keyboards and drums playing beat-heavy synthetic rock in sort of a Cars-meets-Ben Folds style. The lead singer/keyboardist has a smooth rock voice that works well with the band's simple pop arrangements that consist of lots of synths, percussion augmented by electric beats, and bass played by a guy with robot moves straight out of Devo.

I liked Aqueduct's style, but it was clearly U.S.E. that the packed house came to see. It took a good 20 minutes for the band to get their gear, sound and home-made light rigs set up and arranged on the time tiny "stage." There's seven people in the band, including two women backing vocalists, a guy who yelled phrases like "Omaha, we love it!" and "Bright Eyes!" and "Saddle Creek!" to get the crowd energized, and another guy who sang into a vocoder, a sound effect that epitomized the band's retro-tinged disco vibe. Live, U.S.E. rocks harder than on disc, even throwing in a few guitar solos, but overall they were somewhat rough, with a made-in-my-basement quality -- this was, after all, only the third show of their two-month tour. Regardless, it was the bass and drum track (the live drummer was somewhat lacking) that got the crowd moving, eventually. Said a stunned Jeremy the bartender, amazed at the party that erupted in in front of him, "Dude, you should have brought your camera." Omaha, it seemed, had learned how to dance.

Note to O'Leaver's: It's time to replace or fix your sound system. The static throughout both band's sets would have been distracting if the crowd hadn't been on their feet shaking their asses.

Tomorrow: The massive Saddle Creek Q&A. As a warm-up, read Part 1 -- the 2001 Lazy-i interview with Robb Nansel.

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Like the headline sez, U.S.E. tonight at O'Leaver's. The real question is whether anyone comes out to the show. With press in both the OWH and The Reader, you'd think so, but it's a Monday night and this is Omaha. On a certain level, I'm hoping people stay away just so I'll be able to get inside the place.

This weekend was something of a washout for attending live shows, for me at least. Not because there wasn't anything worth seeing, but because I've been killing myself writing a 3,500-word cover story on Saddle Creek Records for this week's issue of The Reader, which will be online at Lazy-i Wednesday morning. In addition, I ran down Todd Grant for this week's column, which'll be online Thursday morning. It's strange not going to a show over the weekend, especially with the weather we've been having, but I hope to make up for it this weekend with OK Go at the Underground Friday night, The Nein at O'Leaver's Saturday and the aforementioned Todd Grant and his band opening for Dolorean on Sunday (and that's followed by Head of Femur next Monday and Son, Ambulance Tuesday).

And speaking of giving a head's up -- U2 announced they'll be doing a show at the Qwest Center Dec. 15, with tickets going on sale March 19 ranging from $50 to $165 per. The Herald has the story on their site here. How fast this will sell out is anyone's guess. It's the first important arena show to hit Omaha in years.

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Seems the singer/songwriter gods are smiling on Omaha more and more these days. In addition to the king of local singer/songwriters -- Simon Joyner -- at O'Leaver's tonight, Omaha golden-age legends Todd Grant and Scott Roth (Such Sweet Thunder) have been added to the Vago/Icarus/Civil Minded show at the Ranch Bowl, likely as the very first band. Grant, who's 1994 CD Strangled Soul continues to be relevant after 11 years, will be the focus of this week's Lazy-i column (online Thursday). Consider tonight's show a preview of what you'll hear when Grant and his new band take the stage opening for Dolorean a week from Sunday at Sokol Underground.

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Only two shows worth mentioning this weekend. Tonight it's Les Georges Leningrad at Sokol Underground with Lincoln's notorious Zyklon Bees and noise-rock favorites The Lepers. Using the exciting new mp3 jukebox at the One Percent Productions' website (it's just to the right of the logo at the top of the page), I listened to one of LGL's songs -- sounds like Sonic Youth-flavored post-punk, and pretty good at that. $8, 9 p.m.

Tomorrow is the return of Simon Joyner and the Wind-Up Birds to O'Leaver's with Outlaw con Bandana. The last time I tried to hear Simon at O'Leaver's I ended up doing it from the parking lot because it was so unbearably packed inside. I suspect it'll be a replay tomorrow night, especially if the weather holds out. $5, 10 p.m.

Column 15 -- Dawn of the Dead Air

As you're browsing through the newsstands at your local Borders, Barnes & Noble or Hy-Vee, prepare to be startled by the cover of the March issue of Wired magazine. The dark, glossy image shows a smoking bullet exploding through the front of a red transistor radio -- a take on the famous Doc Edgerton bullet-through-the apple photo.

To the left, in big, bold letters: THE END OF RADIO.

The headline, I suppose, was intended to shock. The end of radio! My God! What will we do now!

Here's a news tip for the folks at Wired: Radio's been dead for a long, long time. At least for me, and for a lot of other people who grew up listening to the FM. Back in the day, the radio was the only outlet to really hear new music besides the record store. I still remember hearing a cool new song and waiting with baited breath for the DJ -- then the ad hoc program director -- to tell me what they just played so I could run down to Homer's or Peaches or Pickles to pick up a copy to throw on my own turntable.

Those days are long gone. Tuning through the FM now is like walking through a pasture and deciding which pile of cow flop to tip your toe into. You've got a ripe choice between today's retro, today's hip-hop, today's kuntry klassics and today's goon rock -- all with a solid rotation of about 12 stale songs. The only other choice is between the talking drones on NPR or the talking jack-asses on the AM.

Radio's downward spiral began after the Telecommunications Act of 1996, which gave a handful of faceless suits the ability to gobble up every station in every market. Once in, the suits fired the programmers and sanitized the play lists by passing them through a dumbing-down process consisting of focus groups, consultants and Billboard charts. Forget the deep cuts. Forget the obscure, cool artists. The word of the day was homogeneity, and radio's new catch phrase was "Love it or leave it."

Well, it looks like people are leaving it. In droves. According to Wired, despite the fact that every week 200 million people still tune into Big Radio (their euphemism for Clear Channel and the other evil congloms), the number of daily listeners has slipped to 1994 levels, with the coveted 18- to 24-year-old demo falling nearly 22 percent since 1999.

Sounds gloomy. But if you just glanced at that Wired cover, you might have missed the real story written in parentheses below THE END OF RADIO, where it says, "(As we know it)".

The magazine's special section breaks down like this: A feature on Howard Stern going to satellite, a piece on Adam Curry's (yes, the guy from MTV) pioneering efforts in podcasting, and a story titled "The Resurrection of Indie Radio" that features a show hosted by Sex Pistols guitarist Steve Jones -- Jonesy's Jukebox -- on Indie 103, a Clear Channel-backed station in Los Angeles. What? Clear Channel you say?

Of the technologies discussed, it's the one featured in the Jones story that's the real hope for the future. They call it High Definition radio -- digital radio broadcast over the same wavelength as conventional analog radio, but with near-CD quality sound. That by itself is innovative, but the best part is that digital stations will be able to broadcast as many as six different shows simultaneously on the same channel. Stations like Indie 103 could have an "A channel" with regular programming, and a "B channel" that reruns Jonesy's Jukebox or any of their other specialty shows. Or to put a local spin on it, imagine listening to 89.7 The River and being able to hear the indie program New Day Rising whenever you wanted instead of just at 11 p.m. on Sunday night.

This is where Clear Channel comes in. They bought all the advertising time on Indie 103 and are reselling it, essentially ensuring the tiny station stays afloat. Clear Channel knows that High Def radio, which is now only in its infancy, is the only way it's going to compete with technology like mp3 players, satellite radio or podcasting. It's the only way to provide the sort of variety that listeners thirst for now more than ever. The future of radio, it seems, is in niche programming. And that future can't come fast enough.

Just posted, a profile/interview with United State of Electronica (note that there's no "s" on the end of State). Read it here. This should be a radical show for O'Leaver's -- if people show up, that is. Imagine seven disco queens jumping around O'Leaver's tiny "stage," pumping out a night's worth of thump-thump-thump disco action. Will it turn into a dance party or just another night of sitting around, leaning over the rail with a beer in hand, switching between gawking at the band and watching NCAA basketball? We'll see next Monday night. I mentioned to U.S.E.'s Noah Star Weaver that the gig would have been better suited at a roller skating rink, and he agreed. "We were actually thinking of doing a show at our local skating rink." Now wouldn't that be a change of pace...

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Whoda thunk upon hearing their early, weird stuff that Modest Mouse would be around long enough to either catch on or assimilate to Clear Channel acceptability? The trio of vocalist/guitarist Isaac Brock, bassist Eric Judy, and drummer Jeremiah Green started playing together in 1992 in the Seattle suburb of Issaquah, Washington, releasing their first single on Olympia's K Records in 1994. A number of singles and an EP followed before they recorded their 70-minute debut, This is a Long Drive for Someone with Nothing to Think About on Up Records. The follow-up, '97's The Lonesome Crowded West, would be their first breakthrough, igniting a major-label bidding war that Sony Records would eventually win. Last year's Good News for People Who Love Bad News was their second breakthrough, garnering immediate radio play and a spot on the Billboard top-20.

Despite the hype, the songs on Good News... fell somewhere in the middle between weird and catchy. The hits "Float On" and "Ocean Breathes Salty" would fit right in at your typical family barbecue, with its bouncing guitar lines and sing-along lyrics. But old-fashioned yellers like "Bury Me With It" and "Dance Hall," hearken back to the band's UP Records days, sounding like a weird morph of Primus, Talking Heads and a sideshow barker. But even here, there's a sense of restraint, almost as if they think they're getting too old to do weird stuff anymore. And maybe they are.