A brief summary of the weekend's activities:

Friday night at O'Leaver's, I showed up just in time to catch the last three or four songs by Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin, and was impressed. The buzz around the room was that the band had a song featured on The OC last week, which, of course, means instant status/love/future. What's the value of a catchy band name? Maybe everything. They may be on their own label now, but they'll be on someone else's before the end of summer. One of those change-up bands, they switched positions throughout the set, but no matter the configuration, they came off Weezer-esque (back when Weezer was good, and interesting, and no, I'm not talking about Pinkerton). Next time, probably Sokol Underground. Who knows after that.

The Third men took the opportunity to roll out a shitload of new songs, 5 or 6 of them, along with a Richard and Linda Thompson cover ("Wall of Death" off Shoot Out the Lights) that featured keyboardist/tambourine player Dana Rouch on vocals. The next night I told bass player Mike Tulis that I felt a distinct James Gang vibe coming off the first few songs, and he said everyone in the band has a few of those records in their collection. Joe Walsh would be proud. Everything about them -- their music, their stage approach -- says they're doing it because they love doing it, and if you want to come along for the ride, hop aboard. I'm there.

Finally, the Pomonas came on at around midnight. With about half the crowd gone (I guess you could say they got Omaha'd) they ripped right into it. This was the third time I've seen them, and they just keep getting better. Friday night's set emphasized the rhythm section, specifically the bass, whose chores were shared between a couple of guys. The sharp, bouncing bass lines had me asking the lead guy after the set if they're trying to become the next Rapture (especially on a tune they coined "their disco song"). I like the shared vocals (almost harmonies, almost cheerleading), the consistently great counter guitar lines, and the overall hubris of the whole durn deal. Afterward they gave out copies of their latest CDR to anyone willing to take them. Someone needs to find room for them on their label.

Which brings us to Saturday night and Maria Taylor after having watched The Golden Gloves finals down at the Qwest (the Omaha guy got robbed, by the way). Maria came on at around 11:15 or so, performing in a stripped-down ensemble because of problems with the band's keyboard. They got it figured out about halfway through the set, which drew heavily from her 11:11 album. Yes, she was in the usual good voice, and the band sounded great, building louder and more intense as the set rolled on, peaking with a "come on stage" version of "Song Beneath the Song" that included accompaniment by none other than Conor Oberst (guess he's in town now) and members of 13 Ghosts. The 200-plus on hand ate it up.

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A friend of mine has a band that he vehemently denies is alt country even though their twang is undeniable. I bet Spanish for 100 holds that same denial. Though their rhythms are straightforward, mid-tempo fare, the vocals are Wilco-esque and the guitar roar is only missing a pedal steel. In fact, the guitar work here is the most riveting part of the recording. On any given song, the guitar counters the vocals in a preordained sloppy approach, just banging into whatever feels right, off the beat or just behind it. There are a couple songs where the guitars seem to wander off in their own strange angles, pulled (eventually) back into the fold by the rhythm section. The final result is that Spanish has a tightfisted jam band essence about it, especially on "See Now (Live at the Crocodile)" that pulls together all the elements into a crowd-pleasing roar. Go ahead and clap. Produced by the Phil Ek. Rating: Yes.

Column 74: Getting Omaha'd
Don't let it happen to you…

Here's something that was left out of my feature on Pretty Girls Makes Graves: Our protagonist, drummer Nick DeWitt, pointed out the following when asked if he'd ever been through Omaha before.

"Oh yeah, we've been to Omaha," he said. "It was at our first show that we played there that we coined a term called 'getting Omaha'd.' We played with The Blood Brothers, who insisted on playing before us. They have a way of whipping fans into a frenzy. It's not much fun following them, and we always made sure that didn't happen. But that night they insisted that we play last because we were 'the headliners.' So the place was full. Then The Blood Brothers played. Then everyone left, and we played to an empty room."

Translation: They got Omaha'd.

Whether the phrase is catching on (and there's little evidence that it is), the circumstances it represents are becoming more and more common, especially 'round these parts. Playing last on an evening's bill often means playing after the band that brought in most of the crowd, and who will likely take that crowd with them when they're done -- to The Brothers for last call.

Marc Leibowitz, half of the dynamic promoting duo known as One Percent Productions along with Jim Johnson, said "getting Omaha'd" isn't just an Omaha thing. It happens everywhere, mostly to unknown bands that are out on their first tours, like Pretty Girls were when they first blew through town all those years ago. Getting Omaha'd is a rite of passage, a necessary evil that bands must suffer if they ever want to make it to the next level.

Leibs said it rarely happens to bands that target a younger, pre-21 audience -- probably because those kids don't have a bar to go to after their friends' band finishes their set. Or because they haven't become jaded scenesters who only go to shows to be seen, to drink, to make contact, to move on.

No band wants to "get Omaha'd." In fact, bands are now getting wary of playing anywhere but the "sweet spot" of a show -- the middle of a three-band bill. Opening spot? Not so good, even though most local shows don't get rolling until well after 9 p.m. Most people are unwilling or unable to tear themselves away from whatever they had going on earlier in the evening, whether it's dinner and a movie or their precious "stories" on the glass teat. Playing second is optimum -- you get the stragglers, along with those who skate in only to see the headliner, unless of course the headliner was smart enough to take the second spot for themselves, which is becoming more common these days. A show's band order has become so controversial that at one recent show, a local band refused to play unless they were guaranteed not to play last.

They didn't want to get Omaha'd… like Des Moines' The Autumn Project did last Saturday night.

The instrumental trio had the last spot on a show that included local bands Noah's Ark was a Spaceship, and Father, a deafening, dread-fueled art-noise project that features among its players Clark Baechle and Dapose from The Faint. Sure enough, the crowd kept rolling in throughout the Noah's Ark set, and peaked right before Father turned off all the lights, turned on a big-screen projector and let loose with 20 minutes of bludgeoning noise that made me feel slightly nauseous afterward (as I'm sure was the intent).

When the lights came up after Father's disturbing set, everyone headed to the door. The crowd of more than 100 dwindled to around 20 -- mostly the bands that played sets earlier in the evening. It was a shame, too, because The Autumn Project was pretty damn good. But what are they gonna do? They got Omaha'd.

I'm trying to figure out other ways to use the phrase in everyday life, outside of the music scene. For example, you show up late to a party, just as everyone is leaving, and have to help empty ash trays and pick up dead beer bottles.

You got Omaha'd.

Or, you arrive late to help someone move to a new house, after the rest of the crew has gone home, leaving you to lift the washer and dryer out of the basement by yourself.

You got Omaha'd.

It means more than just showing up late, it means being left holding the bag. That was also the case for Pretty Girls Make Graves. After they played to a room full of crickets, they were told by the show's promoter (and no, it wasn't One Percent Productions) that there was no money to pay them.

"The promoter tried to screw us," DeWitt said. "We had to take the guy to an ATM to get our money. So for us, getting Omaha'd meant everyone leaving and getting ripped off… almost."

Let's hope things go better when they play Sokol Underground next Tuesday. Say, who's opening that show, anyway?

Just placed online, an interview with Pretty Girls Make Graves drummer Nick DeWitt. Nick talks about Seattle, working with Colin Stewart instead of Phil Ek on their new record, and dangerous lighting equipment (read it here). Among the stuff that didn't make the cut was talk about Nick's "project studio" out on Bainbridge Island. "I don't like that term -- project studio. It sounds like it's a side project. I make stuff out there." His "stuff" is another music project called Dutch Dub, which he does with friend Amy (no last name given). They're putting the finishing touches on a new full-length called Night Canopy that'll be released on Sound Virus Records some time in the near future. The Dutch Dub self-titled debut LP came out in '05 on Record Collection. And then, somehow, he'll tour, presumably around Pretty Girls' touring schedule, that is if he can get a band together. "Maybe it'll be a one-man-band kind of thing. I'll tie a tambourine to my foot. Hopefully, down the road, I'll be able to find a few people to play with me."

The other part of Nick's comments that weren't in this article surface in tomorrow's column, focused around the concept of "getting Omaha'd." Tune back then.

Apologies for not updating yesterday -- I've had a killer schedule. I intended to put something online last night about Spoon's recent foray into television commercials. So I'm watching the NBA playoffs this weekend and what should come up during a time-out but a nice, long commercial for the new Jaguar XKE. The music, Spoon's "I Turn My Camera On." And it wasn't just incidental background music -- it was produced like a rock video prominently featuring the song and tight, quick cuts of a shiny new Jag. The commercial was replayed again about five minutes later, and I immediately thought, 'Well, there goes that song."

Look, I think it's great if Britt Daniel can earn a little extra scratch from Madison Avenue -- no problem there. We all got bills to pay. Hey, didn't Broken Spindles sell a song to use in a recent Lexus ad? The difference, of course, is that the Broken Spindles tune is somewhat obscure, and he could use the exposure -- and it just sounds like piano tinkling anyway. The Spoon track was a "single" from Gimme Fiction, is impossible to miss during the ad, and if the commercial gets a lot of airtime (and it probably will) will now forever be identified with that car. I cannot hear Bob Seger's "Like a Rock" and not think "Chevy Trucks" or Sheryl Crow's "Every Day is a Winding Road" without thinking "cheesy car commercial." U2's "Vertigo" -- iPods. And so on. In those cases it doesn't really matter because I didn't like the song to begin with. But this winter Ford began using the Peanuts theme for a sales promotion -- I had to turn the TV off every time it came on because I grew up loving that little piano tune as a kid and couldn't stand the idea of it being bastardized (the family of Vince Guaraldi must be mortified). And I liked "I Turn My Camera On." Not anymore, not if it becomes the official Jaguar theme. Britt, what were you thinking?

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Here's a late review of Saturday night's show; late because the Lazy-i servers were down for awhile yesterday for maintenance, upkeep and and other technical stuff. I guess I should have just written the review right when I got home from the show Saturday night, but I was still feeling a but uneasy. Just to clarify up front: What I'm about to say isn't meant as an insult. I was literally physically ill after Father's set. But let me start at the beginning...

I got down at the Underground just as Noah's Ark Was a Spaceship had taken the stage. Their style and sound was pleasingly thunderous and epic, intense and... well, loud, dark and ominous as a storm cloud rolling in -- a fitting opener for what lied ahead. Shortly after they finished their set, a projector screen was placed on stage. The guys in Father followed next, setting up in the dark. The projector glowed blue, then pink as Clark Baechle started off the 20-minute song with booming, repeated, tribal drum riffs that went on -- alone -- for at least a few minutes before D. Bushon joined in on drums alongside him, throwing his arms high with every capped measure. Bushon threw his sticks off stage, picked up a guitar and began a throbbing drone that would eventually include Dapose and someone on bass.

Meanwhile, on screen, a faint pattern emerged, a pulsing central circle surrounded by four pulsing dots -- one in each corner. Slowly, small lines appeared, growing into a web of veins (or so it seemed). As the sound intensified, the veins kept growing, become more detailed with each pulse of the central circle, eventually resembling the circulatory system of an alien life form. Behind it, in the dark, the gutteral sounds from Father throbbed louder, trancelike and grim. Eventually Clark up and left the stage, leaving Bushon, Dapose and the bass to rumble on. I don't know if it was the all-encompassing low end, the nightmarish image on screen, or the combination of the two, but it was right about here that I began to get slightly nauseous. What the f*** was this supposed to be, some sort of bludgeoning nightmare séance?

One-by-one members of the band left the stage, eventually leaving Dapose to drone to a conclusion while Seth Johnson's gruesome image slowly faded from the screen. When Dapose finally left and the house sound and lights came up, the crowd of 100 clapped, confused and maybe a bit startled. Father's performance was disturbing and unsettling and most likely right on target.

Most of the crowd left before The Autumn Project took the stage (see this week's column (online Thursday) for a further explanation). They missed out on some more powerful, though stark, instrumental music driven by a talented drummer. It reminded me of the instrumental bands that were so popular four or five years ago, playing chord changes that center around the rhythm section. Autumn Project is the first band I've seen in a long time to use a smoke machine. At one point, during one of their song's dramatic moments, the drummer became hidden in the fog only to reemerge wearing a white mask! Weird! Was he wearing that thing the whole time? I think I would have noticed. He slipped it off moments later and continued with the set. All-in-all, a disturbing evening of sound, light and noise.

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There's actually more shows going on than I realized this weekend. Here are my picks:

Tonight at O'Leaver's, an evening of twang, headlined by Iowa City's Shame Train, with Mal Madrigal and Springhill Mine Disaster. $5, 9:30 p.m. Meanwhile, down at Sokol Underground, you've got vanilla-flavored alt-rock band The Nadas, coming off a recent loss in a contest to open for Bon Jovi in New York -- which pretty much says it all. More Hootie than Hootie ever was. With The Josh Davis Band. $12. 9 p.m. Lincoln's Scenefest 4 kicks off at Duffy's with Tie These Hands, Prints of Apple Island, The Goddamn Rights, The Static Octopus and Straight Outta Junior High. $6, 9 p.m.

Saturday night: The multimedia spectacular known as The Autumn Project headlines down at Sokol Underground. I'm listening one of the trio's tracks now -- a long, heady instrumental that would be right at home on The Cure's Disintegration album. Quiet than loud, you know the drill. Father is guitarist D. Bushon with help from Dapose and Clark Baechle of The Faint, and visuals from Seth Johnson. Get ready to grind. $7, 9 p.m. Meanwhile, Randy Cotton (ex-Ravine, ex-Ritual Device) and his band Members of the Press will grace the O'Leaver's stage with Darsombra (from Baltimore), Wasteoid and Demon Attack. $5, 9:30 p.m. Night two of Scenefest at Duffy's will be under way with Robot, Creep Closer!, Producers of the Word, Electric Soul Method, Once A Pawn and Sinikil. $6, 9 p.m.

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Column 73: Acid Test in the Park
Who is this Bright Eyes character, anyway?

So I'm going through the line at the Petco on 72nd and Dodge, picking up a fresh box of much-deserved milk bones for the two very special critics who edit my work. I turn to the cheerful, late-30s-aged woman behind the counter and ask, whilst signing the digital signature pad, "Say, ever heard of a band called Bright Eyes…?"

Here's the deal: Never has there been a better acid test as to the popularity of Bright Eyes, Saddle Creek Records and the Omaha indie music scene than the just-announced concert in Memorial Park June 17 featuring Conor Oberst and his band of merry men. Once and for all, we're going to see just how popular indie is among the great unwashed masses.

Those of us who live and breathe indie, who go to the shows at Sokol Underground, buy the records and read the online journals, we go through life with blinders on. We believe that Oberst and Cursive and The Faint and Saddle Creek are the harbingers of Omaha's status as "The New Seattle," that the world outside our freeway has embraced us. I mean, everyone knows Bright Eyes, right? Hell, how could they not? He's played guitar right next to The Boss and Michael Stipe.

Ah, but mention Conor or any of the Creek bands to the guy or gal slouched in line next to you at, say, your local Wal-Mart, and you're bound to get a blank stare in return. Bright Who?

Which brings us to that concert in the park. I've already heard speculation from those entrenched in the local music scene that this will be an event for the ages that will far out-draw the July 16, 2004, Memorial Park show that featured 311. Depending on your source, that concert drew more than 50,000 rabid fans eager to see the former Omahans present a "night of positivity" along with a medley of dated ska-rock classics.

What will Bright Eyes draw on June 17, 2006? Let's look at the facts.

Conor has been written about in every respectable newspaper and magazine in the country. He's appeared on Letterman, Leno and even the lame Craig Ferguson Show. And unlike 311, he maintains a domicile in Omaha even though he spends most of his time in Manhattan (and who can blame him?). Those curious about his music but who have been apprehensive about venturing to a venue engulfed in sad-eyed indie kids finally will have a chance to see the boy wonder on neutral territory. And it's free. Yes, the curious will come.

So will the traveler. Other than a handful of shows in Canada and the Bonnaro Festival in Manchester, Tennessee, the park show is the only scheduled Bright Eyes appearance in North America this year. Expect heartbroken fans from across the country to make a holy pilgrimage and turn the event into a mini Woodstock. If you live within blocks of the park, expect moody youths with tattoos and piercings in tents in your front yard days before the show.

Let's not forget that Bright Eyes drew nearly 4,000 paying customers to Council Bluffs' MAC center just last May. Ah, but remember, The Faint was on the undercard that night. Who will open for Conor June 17? Certainly not The Faint or Creek's third-biggest band, Cursive.

Which gets us to arguments against a huge draw. Bright Eyes skews younger than 311, whose heyday was over a decade ago, and hence has a broader fan base than Conor's. And while we're talking about 311, remember that they've had four Gold records, one Platinum, one Triple-Platinum, a Gold and Platinum DVD; in total they've sold more than 7 million units in the United States. Bright Eyes has yet to produce even one Gold record, thanks to a complete lack of commercial radio airplay. Meanwhile, 311 music is on regular rotation on hundreds of radio stations across the country, including a couple here in Omaha.

Then there's the fact that the 311 concert was the centerpiece of the city's 150-year "celebration." Fireworks were promised. The Bright Eyes show is merely Mayor Fahey's and US Cellular's bright idea (And can you imagine Conor, who has railed endlessly against Clear Channel and commercial sponsorships, playing in front of a gigantic US Cellular banner?).

Some won't come because they despise Conor's politics. Some won't come because they despise Conor's music. Some won't come because they despise the kind of people who like Conor's politics and music. Then there's the proximity of the "oldies" concert in the park just two weeks later, which is more likely to draw wary families. And then there's the weather. And on and on.

But maybe the most telling indication of how many will come to the concert in the park is that cheerful Petco clerk bagging my milk bones. "Bright Eyes? Never heard of 'em. Is that a local band or something?"

I've never parked so far away for a Sokol show -- a block north of Bam's near the church, maybe a 1/4 mile from the venue. What's the deal? I've always parked closer, even for sold-out shows. I don't know if last night's Yeah Yeah Yeahs Yeahs show was a sell out or not, but I've never seen it so packed in the auditorium before. I got there at 10, just in time for the Yeahs' set. On the back of the stage hung a huge Show Your Bones scrim, red and black like a giant flag representing the United States of Yeahs. With no fanfare at all, on walked the band, including a fourth guy who played acoustic guitar, keyboards and, on one song, bass! So here were the Yeahs with added fire power, and despite that, they sounded less epic than they did when I saw them as a trio two years ago, back when the show was literally a showcase for Nick Zinner's blowtorch guitarwork. Maybe it was the fact that I was sandwiched in the very back of the hall, but Zinner's guitar sounded buried in the mix, tucked away somewhere beneath Karen O's vocals and the rest of the cacophony. Overall, a lackluster show. I blame their new record, which is less inventive and interesting than Fever to Tell (or maybe I'm just getting too familiar with the formula). With Nick in the background, O's theatrical prancing took center stage. Dressed in a red-and-black jumper and wearing one glittering glove on her right hand, she looked and sounded like a cross between a bobbed Chrissie Hynde and a modern-day Wicked Witch of the West. I never heard her once address the audience, instead blowing through the set of new songs non-stop. The crowd didn't seem to care, though. They were too busy doing a modified pogo and flashing devil horns. After 45 minutes, I figured I'd seen enough and high-tailed it down to the Underground. I'm told that shortly after I left the band kicked off a three-song encore that included the night's best performance.

Meanwhile, downstairs, a hip-hop show was in high gear. Here's where anyone with even a surface knowledge of the genre can click away to some other blog or news as you'll find nothing valuable in my comments (just make sure you come back in a sec and read about Once a Pawn, below). I don't know the name of the crew on stage who were opening for Murs, but they weren't bad. They featured three MCs and a turntable guy who pumped out dense but rather minimal beats beneath their rapping. Before their last number, they passed on a story about running into Conor Oberst at a party in Atlanta. "And like all emo parties, there was only one hot girl there," the MC said. Just as he was about to swoop down on his prey, Oberst walked up to her and leaned against the wall, blocking his approach. He shoots, he scores! "It was tight," added another MC, while the lone white MC said, "We still like his music." Murs joined them for their last song, and it was like turning on switch to a power grid. Night and day. The first crew walked off and Murs stayed up there and tore into his set. Compared to the last crew, he was magnetic, pouncing on an audience that looked 10 times as punk as the crowd that was standing around listening to the Yeahs above them.

End of review. Intro to this week's feature: Without a band story assignment, Reader editor Andy Norman called me last week and asked if I could do a little sumpthin' on Once a Pawn, whom I'd never heard of. I'm glad he did. I listened to the Lincoln trio's tunes on Myspace and made some calls. Read the results here and check them out at Scenefest this weekend. The fourth annual event seems a bit throttled back from years past, but is still an impressive showcase of Lincoln talent, all at Duffy's this time.

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What will all those radio-loving suburban youth who are driving down to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs show tonight at Sokol Auditorium going to think of Mike Dapose of The Faint's death metal side project Precious Metal? Will they cover their ears? Will they cower in fear? Or will they stand in awe at Dapose's guitar virtuosity? Putting Precious Metal on the bill was a savvy move that will result in as much talk as the headliners. I suggest getting there at the stroke of 8 to see the carnage. You'll either love it or hate it. You'll definitely remember it. The other opener, Brooklyn's Blood on the Wall, is described as an indie rock trio with male and female vocals. Hmmm... If the Yeahs are anything like they were the last time they came through, this will be a must-see show if only to see Nick Zinner's amazing guitar pyrotechnics. Last I looked, tickets were still available.

It's a busy Tuesday. O'Leaver's is hosting Voodoo Organist, who Brendan of Life After Laserdisque (who is opening this show along with No Blood Orphan) swears by. If the Yeahs end early, it might be worth a swing-by.

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I made it only to one show this weekend. Actually, one-third of a show. I drove down to Sokol Underground Friday night to catch The Family Radio, which I've written about on the blog for the past few days (Nik Fackler, Dereck Higgins, etc.). I got there later than expected, but didn't miss a thing as Nik and the band stood around on stage for a good 20 minutes doing a sound check (I think). You figure if you were nervous that standing around on stage would only make it worse. Fackler, however, seemed relaxed, almost giddy, throwing candy into the audience throughout the short, five-song set.

The consensus afterward -- they sounded a lot like Bright Eyes. Certainly the style is similar -- folksy, chamber-pop music pushed gently by a solid rhythm section, with personal lyrics (though not as confessional as poor Conor's). Fackler's voice is nothing like Oberst's, though he does provide the occasional shriek (maybe more Kasher-esque?) and he likes to count out the beat. Violinist/flautist Tara Konradi added nice counter-melodies, though I'm doubtful she could hear herself on stage. And ex-Azure Ray-er Orenda Fink lent a hand on trumpet for one song. It sounded pretty good, and at times, almost great. The night before Fackler was most excited about the "50s-style rocker" that the band planned to end their set with. It was the weakest tune of the bunch, however. The best songs were the more subtle numbers that featured Fackler's simple finger-picking guitar lines and the warm rumble of the rhythm section -- Higgins we all know about, but that drummer was a real pleasant surprise. Now we'll wait and see just how much more Fackler will do with this band. He's a busy boy, what with his film projects and music videos. Is it possible to do all of it at once?

In the News: A number of people e-mailed pointing out that Ladyfinger has signed with Saddle Creek. The band themselves confirmed the rumor on their website (http://www.ladyfingersucks.com/), where they announced that their debut full length will be released on Creek Sept. 26. The story goes that Saddle Creek paid for recording the new Ladyfinger disc with the option of putting it out if they liked it. Apparently they did. If you go to the Saddle Creek tours page you'll find details about the band's late-May early-June tour that caps off with a gig at The 49'r June 17 (You'll also find on that same tours page a listing for Neva Dinova dates -- the first pseudo-acknowledgement on the Creek site that the band has been signed to the label).

Tonight at Sokol Underground: Saves the Day with Moneen for $15. I'm not sure why I'm telling you this since I think both bands suck.

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Weird thing about the Crystal Skulls -- I listened to their new CD over the last few days, dug the keyboards throughout. And yet, last night, no keyboards. What the… ? Still, an interesting if not low-key band that got better as the night wore on. They have a hit song on their hands if they can get people to hear "Baby Boy," one of those tunes that jumps off their CD and off the stage. "I'm tellin' ya, it's sheer gold, Maury...." Here's one of those bands where their CD was better than their live show. It's a pretty good CD if you're into that laid-back indie sound...

Vanderslice, well, seems like he plays here every six months when actually it's probably about once a year, which is still a lot for a touring band. Who remembers the old days when Vanderslice had this madcap drummer who set up right at the front of the stage? You went to Vanderslice shows to see that guy. Well, he's long gone, and while the current drummer is no pushover, he's also no freakshow, like the last one. About a half-dozen people I spoke to during their set made the same comment. "Remember his old drummer? Man, that guy was a blast!" Anyway... Vanderslice sounded fine. I've never been a big fan, but I dig his clear, throaty voice, and the rest of his ensemble sounded rock solid. Still, nothing about the set stands out as I write this right after the show.

Not a bad crowd, btw -- maybe 150? I suspect Sokol will see twice that many tonight with The Elected/Jake Bellows/The Family Radio.

Which brings us to Friday's usual glance at the coming weekend (cue theme music).

It starts tonight with the show I just mentioned. And I'll reiterate what I said in yesterday's column -- Nik Fackler and his band, The Family Radio, is really what I'm interested in hearing. Fackler tells me the band has worked up at least a half-dozen songs for tonight. Talk about an acid test -- he'll be debuting this band in front of most of the Saddle Creek Club, all of whom he knows, anyway, thanks to his ever-growing video work. You'd think playing in front of his pals would make him even more nervous. But never fear, with Dereck Higgins backing him on bass, everything will be all right. Get there at 9. Door is $10.

My plan is to jet out early and go cross town to Mick's and see Bill Hoover & Friends. Hoover, if you don't know already, used to front The Darktown House Band and is something of a legend 'round these parts -- sort of Omaha's version of Tom Waits. This will be a special show, and Mick's will fill up early.

Saturday night's marquee event is The Stills w/Raising the Fawn at Sokol Underground. I've heard the new Stills CD, and no, it's not as good as Logic Will Break Your Heart, but it's still serviceable. Meanwhile, The 49'r will be hosting Brother Trucker from Des Moines and Western Electric (Scott Roth ex-Such Sweet Thunder).

Look for reviews this weekend.

--Got comments? Post 'em here.--

Column 72: Early Warning System
A glance at the rock calendar

Rock shows have a funny way of sneaking up on you if you're not paying attention. And though we at The Reader go out of our way to point you in the right direction week in and week out, we rarely give you a heads-up more than eight days in advance. With that in mind, here are some early warnings of worth-while indie shows on the horizon, with details on who these folks are and why you should care. A caveat -- two performances in the past two weeks were cancelled the night of the show due to "van troubles." Rock stars' lives are complicated, and schedules can (and do) change, sometimes at the last minute. Check the usual websites (onepercentproductions.com, myspace.com/oleaverspub, micksomaha.com, lazy-i.com) for the latest info.

The Elected w/Jake Bellows, The Family Radio April 14 @ Sokol Underground -- You already know The Elected (Blake Sennett of Rilo Kiley) and Jake Bellows (of Saddle Creek band Neva Dinova). The hidden treasure is The Family Radio, a new ensemble fronted by local film maker Nik Fackler that includes legendary bassist Dereck Higgins (Digital Sex, One Mummy Case), Aaron Gum, Ian O'Donnell and Tara Konradi making a noise like Simon and Garfunkel having dinner with Bright Eyes. Could Fackler turn his back on Hollywood to become a rock star? Get there early and find out.

The Autumn Project w/Father, Noah's Ark Was A Spaceship, Ila April 22 @ Sokol Underground. Father is guitarist D. Bushon with help from Dapose and Clark Baechle of The Faint, and visuals from Seth Johnson. Get ready to grind.

The Pomonas w/The Third Men, Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin April 28 @ O'Leaver's -- Lawrence 4-piece The Pomonas look and sound like a bunch of slackers from your local record store gigging in their basement, which is why they're so damn charming. The Third Men is a retro/summer/feel good band featuring Mike Tulis, Matt Rutledge, Mike Loftus and Pat White.

Maria Taylor w/13Ghosts April 29 @ Sokol Auditorium -- Maria Taylor we all know as half of the currently defunct Azure Ray. Birmingham's 13Ghosts are as haunting as their name implies.

Pretty Girls Make Graves w/Giant Drag, The Joggers May 2 @ Sokol Underground -- PGMG's new one, Élan Vital on Matador Records, is a strange, slurred, funky bite of bittersweet post-punk. LA's Giant Drag is another guitar-and-drums girl-and-guy duo a la The White Stripes but with a distinct My Bloody Valentine vibe.

Kite Pilot CD release show May 6 @ Sokol Underground -- A copy of KP's Mercy Will Close Its Doors fell into my lap last August with the hope and promise of finding a label to release it. Nine months later and the CD will be born as a self-released joint, but still as precious. The Protoculture are rumored to open.

Atmosphere w/Brother Ali and Los Nativos May 10 @ Sokol Underground -- If you haven't experienced one of Sokol's underground hip-hop shows, there is no better time to start. Atmosphere is Slug a.k.a. Sean Daley, the genius behind Minnesota's Rhymesayers Collective, that includes such acts as MF Doom, P.O.S. and Brother Ali, the albino who called me out from stage for calling him a white guy. Things could get ugly.

Gomez w/David Ford May 13 @ Sokol Underground -- There was a time only a few years ago when you'd expect Gomez to be playing the big room above Sokol Underground. Those days, apparently, are long gone. That said, the band's new CD, How We Operate, rocks harder than anything they've ever done.

Minus the Bear w/Criteria, Russian Circles May 23 @ Sokol Underground -- Minus the Bear's last CD, Menos el Oso, renewed my faith in a band that before could only be described as "quirky." They're still quirky, but now there's something significant under the jangle. After months of touring, Criteria should be plenty road-hardened.

Two Gallants acoustic May 25 @ Mick's -- One of Saddle Creek Records' latest bands, the duo usually do their thing White Stripes style, all electric. How will their sea-shanty ballads sound unplugged?

I Love You But I've Chosen Darkness w/The Rogers Sisters May 31 @ Sokol Underground. The Austin band on Secretly Canadian (Antony & The Johnsons, Swell Maps) is making waves with a stark, electronic sound that heralds back to the old Factory Records days (Yeah, that means they're influenced by Joy Division).

Simon Joyner w/Coolzey, Miracles of God June 27 @ O'Leaver's -- Few shows these days are as thoroughly satisfying and memorable as Joyner and his band, The Wind-Up Birds, at O'Leaver's. It'll be packed, it'll be sweaty and it'll be pure spectacle.

Just posted for your reading pleasure, a feature/interview with Nick Zinner of Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Nick talks about hanging out in Omaha, competition in Brooklyn, the band's new album, and the old days (Read it here). Among the stuff that didn't make it into the story, Zinner said he digs playing in Bright Eyes, a band he's toured with as recently as last year's Digital Ash tour (Btw, he said playing at the MAC Center in CB for a Bright Eyes gig last May was kind of a drag because the crowd was so far from the stage -- it drained a lot of the energy from the set). Zinner says he looks forward to doing another tour with Conor and Company...eventually. "I'm booked for awhile, but I definitely want to do it again in the future. It's so much fun for me to play with him, it's like a rock vacation."

Zinner also talked about working with legendary producer Alan Moulder behind the mixing console both for their new record and their debut LP. Moulder has worked with some of indie rock's most defining acts, including My Bloody Valentine, Jesus and Mary Chain and Smashing Pumpkins. "He kind of downplays his role in all those productions," Zinner said. "I was able to get a lot of great stories out of him. He's an amazing man. He's worked on so many important, influential, seminal records, but is so down to earth and receptive and relaxed and supportive." Zinner said the band originally got connected to Moulder through their manager, who was good friends with Toni Halliday of Curve -- Moulder's wife. How do they work together? "When I'm in the studio, I take a back seat while Alan gets it to the point where he thinks it sounds good, then we'll work together at perfecting it. I'm a bit of a studio geek, but not as much as he is. We take time and keep listening to the song over and over again."

Tonight, The Fray at Sokol Auditorium with Landing on the Moon. I've never heard of The Fray, so I was a bit surprised when their show sold out so quickly. Who are these guys? Well, their last record was on Sony/Epic. They're from Denver. Their sound is safe, middle-of-the-road radio rock. Hmm. Ah, here it is. Their songs have been played on TV's "Grey's Anatomy," "ER" and "Bones," three shows I've never seen before. And last summer they toured with Weezer. It's all beginning to make sense now. More interesting than The Fray is the Sokol Aud debut of Landing on the Moon. How will they pull it off on the big stage? Get there at 8 and find out (if you have a ticket).

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So I spent the good part of the last two days trying to track down a drummer on the road for this week's column and at the end of it all came up with nil. It happens, it happens... Luckily, I was able to track down Nick Zinner of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, so you'll get a nice little feature on Nick and the band online right here tomorrow. As for this week's column (online Thursday), well, it's a recap of upcoming shows which y'all probably know about anyway. Oh well...

Bit o' entertainment tonight at O'Leaver's with Seattle's Boss Martians (they sound like run of the mill indie rock to me) along with Omaha's favorite bar band, Anonymous American. 9:30 p.m. $5.

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Apparently the Albatross guys got stuck in Texas with van troubles. No show tonight.

No shows for me last weekend, but that'll likely be the last time that happens for a couple months.

Moving on… Seems like scuttlebutt of The Faint's rumored move to American Recordings has been picked up by a couple other websites (beyond this one), which are reporting the signing as fact even though nothing appears on the Saddle Creek, American or Faint sites. However, I don't remember there being a mention on the Creek site when Rilo Kiley flew the coop for Warners. Among those talking about the deal are Mammothpress, Absolute Punk and Punkbands.com. Someone even told me they heard it on The River. I'll believe it when I hear it from the horse's mouth. Those curious about confirming the story will have a chance to ask Dapose tonight when his other band, Precious Metal, takes the Sokol Underground stage with An Albatross and Fromanhole. $7, 9 p.m.

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No barn-burner shows this weekend, just a series of smaller outings. In fact, I don't know much about any of these shows or these bands, but here's the rundown:

Tonight O'Leaver's hosts singer/songwriters Chris Koza and Brad Hoshaw ($5, 9:30); Sokol Underground has a local metal show ($7, 9 p.m.).

Saturday night's highlights include O'Leaver's again with Minty Fresh band The Living Blue (formerly The Blackouts) along with local retro garage monsters Brimstone Howl (formerly The Zyklon Bees), who I have seen before and do bring the rock ($5, 9:30). Sokol Underground is hosting Prospect Avenue's CD release show with SOJH, Eyes Catch Fire and 8th Wave ($8, 8 p.m.).

Sunday night, alt rock band Eisley (Reprise records) is at Sokol with Simon Dawes and Brighten ($10, 9 p.m.).

And th-th-th-th-that's all, folks. You know something better going on? Please let us know on The Webboard.

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Column 71: No Stars, No Letters
Recent releases, for your consideration…

Those who read the Lazy-i website already are aware of my pejorative CD rating system -- a simple "yes" or "no." No stars, no letter grades. Look, listeners simply want to know if a recording is worth dropping their hard-earned rubles for. I've been told my system is too draconian by those who would prefer a "you'd like this if you listen to that" system, which, of course, is spineless. That said, all of the CDs mentioned below rate a "Yes" unless otherwise noted. Pay attention, they're short (and in iPod alpha order, for your convenience).

The Ark, State of the Ark (EMI) -- They rip off every '70s act from The Knack to Sweet, but remind you why you liked those bands in the first place. Inspired line: "Try some manners, f***face."

Belle & Sebastian, The Life Pursuit (Matador) -- Their retro upbeat dance record heavy on Bowie and T. Rex, I hated it at first. It's grown on me (like a fungus).

Cat Power, The Greatest (Matador) -- The first album that Chan Marshall has made that I've enjoyed from beginning to end, she's sounding even more like Mazzy Star with her sleepy, slurred vocals and warm, mid-tempo dream-melodies.

Centro-matic, Fort Recovery (Misra) -- The most unheralded geniuses in indie since The Grifters (or Silkworm, but that's another story). It's about time they get discovered by the masses.

Chad VanGaalen, Infiniheart (SubPop) -- Simple one-man band production is dark, haunting, cool shit. A singer-songwriter creep show.

The Cops, Get Good or Stay Bad (Mt. Fuji) -- Mike Jaworski's bands have always been derivative, but they've never been this good. This time he combines The Clash, Rocket from the Crypt and a black-leather New York garage punk band. Heartfelt.

David Dondero, South of the South (Team Love) -- Hear once and for all where Conor Oberst got his bray. Smart songwriting.

Donald Fagen, Morph the Cat (Reprise) -- I don't want to hear how "uncool" it is to like Fagen and Steely Dan. Few people write smarter, snarkier lyrics, and even fewer can make them bounce with such infectious ease.

The Eighteenth Day of May, self-titled (Hannibal) -- British acoustic folk in the style of Richard and Linda Thompson/Fairport Convention; the kind of music we all need more of in our lives.

Elf Power, Back to the Web (Rykodisc) -- From Athens, they have the same sheen of early acoustic R.E.M., though Andy Rieger is no Michael Stipe, but maybe that's a good thing.

The Fall, Hex Enduction Hour (reissue) (Castle Music) -- Indie's last wave was all about rediscovering the desolate funk of Gang of Four; the next will be about rediscovering the arrogance of The Fall.

Hayley Taylor, Waking (self-release) -- Like Jenny Lewis (whose music her music resembles) she's another TV veteran (Sabrina, ER) turned musician. Produced by A.J. Mogis.

The Headlights, The Enemies EP (Polyvinyl) -- Another Death Cab-influenced band. This one's better than most. At O'Leavers 4/10.

Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins, Rabbit Fur Coat (Team Love) -- Easily the best thing Lewis has produced since The Execution of All Things back in '02.

Kyle Harvey, Truth Is the Color of Teeth (self-release) -- Stark, almost grim heartbreak tone-poems infused with electronics. Bleak.

Mad Happy, Renegade Geeks (Mutiny Zoo) -- Mike iLL and Rivka are hip-hop's Pat and Barbara K. McDonald. They have the same subversive vibe as Timbuk 3, though their music is more electronic than organic, and slightly more in your face (but only slightly).

Minmae, Le Grand Essor de la Maison du Monstre (Greyday) -- What you'd get if Bill Callahan (the one from Smog, not the Huskers) fronted Pavement.

Neil Diamond, 12 Songs (American) -- Again, I don't want to hear it. This gets added points from the Rick Rubin production, the only guy that can convince these dinosaurs that all they need is their guitar.

Neil Young, Heart of Gold (Reprise) -- With apologies to our cadre of movie critics, this is a flick review (though you can buy the soundtrack). Not as good as Rust Never Sleeps, but few concert movies are. Worth seeing if only for Neil's VH-1-style "songwriters" confessions and "Old Man," again.

The Plastic Constellations, Crusades (French Kiss) -- Frenetic, proggy, spazzy rock, strange and danceable, exactly what you'd expect from a band on this label (Les Savy Fav, Rahim, etc.).

Rahim, Ideal Lives (French Kiss) -- Frenetic, proggy, spazzy rock, strange and danceable, exactly what you'd expect from a band on this label (Les Savy Fav, The Plastic Constellations, etc.).

Simon Joyner, Beautiful Losers (Jagjaguwar) -- This B-sides and singles collection is an excellent introduction to Joyner's early work (though nothing beats his masterpiece, The Cowardly Traveler Pays His Toll, which remains out of print).

Stereolab, Fab Four Suture (Too Pure) -- I admit to never being a fan, but I can see why some might dig this French/Euro/Retro pop. I'm not one of them. Rating: No.

Talking Heads, Speaking in Tongues (reissue) (Rhino) -- Part of a massive reissuing of early Heads material, Rhino wouldn't send me the whole thing. Each DualDisc includes the album in 5.1 Surround Sound with a couple videos included. If you don't own this, now's the time.

The Twilight Singers, Powder Burns (One Little Indian) -- Greg Dulli (ex-Afghan Whigs) knows how to put his soul on the slab for anyone to poke at. He's done it again, albeit less subtly than on Blackberry Belle.

Two Gallants, What the Toll Tells (Saddle Creek) -- While a little of these hippy, ship-galley sea-shanty balladeers goes a long way, I'm beginning to see why they appealed to the sexy young execs at Saddle Creek.

The draw was light last night at O'Leaver's. I blame the Simon Joyner show at The Pizza Shoppe, which I completely forgot about. And the fact that the O'Leaver's show got next to no hype (other than on this site, of course, which is next to no hype). I got there at about the eight-minute mark of The Leper's 12-minute opening song. These guys' songs are looong, and are meant to be, I suppose. They've changed up their sound somewhat since the last time I saw them (probably over a year ago). A couple of the songs were downright fast compared to their usual tribal, tonal head trips. I'm told by drummer Ken Brock that the new pace will be heard on their new CD, which they've finished recording and have out for mixing. The band had just returned from two weeks on the road including a pass through SXSW. These guys are almost acidic in how they can divide a crowd between people who "get" where they are and where they're going and what they're trying to do along the way, and those who just plain hate their music. I'm part of the first group, though in all honesty, I have to assume this style of psychedelic drone tunage is best accompanied by hallucinogenics or grass (both of which I've never had the pleasure to have known). Guitarist/vocalist Owen Cleasby even asked if anyone had any pot in the audience (He was just kidding... I think).

Knife Skills was a different animal altogether. A Brooklyn trio that features two girls and a guy had one immediate noticeable difference from The Lepers -- they had a bass. And man, was it loud. They call their sound punk/rock/black metal on their myspace page. I would categorize them more as heavily rhythmic noise rock, dense and unforgiving. Their music doth not swing, nor doth it intend to. Instead you're bludgeoned repeatedly by that friggin' bass and those women's shrill, mocking voices. They apparently just finished a new album recorded by Steve Revitte (Liars, Black Dice, The Double) to be released on 5 Rue Christine and headed to a music-store bin near year this summer.

Finally, up came N0 Things. I'm not going to get too detailed here as I intend to run down Ron Albertson via cell sometime this week for an interview for next week's column. Needless to say, for those wondering, Ron looks fine, though a bit tired (doesn't he always look tired?). The music blew me away. Like the best of The Liars' stuff, it's all about the rhythms and the rhythm section of Ron and bassist Pat Noecker, who converge in some sort of unholy, decadent Vulcan mindmeld of sound. The bass and drums power everything, while guitarist/vocalist Christian Dautresme keeps his head above the waves with a tingling guitar and his stark, nasal vocals (he may not be a walking monster like Angus Andrew, but he's certainly a better singer). The crowd (of maybe 40) dug it, as did I, even calling them back for a one-song encore. Yeah, I like these guys more than The Liars first incarnation (and certainly more than the current version).

Tomorrow, the weekly column featuring 26 CD reviews -- 26! I'm going to get caught up with that Reviews Matrix if it's the last thing I do...

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A brief reminder that n0 Things are tonight at O'Leaver's with The Lepers at O'Leaver's. As I mentioned last week, n0 things is Ron Albertson's and Pat Noeker's new band. Ron (formerly of Mercy Rule) and Pat (formerly of Opium Taylor) were in The Liars for that band's first (and only listenable) album They Threw Us All in a Trench and Stuck a Monument On Top, released on Gern Blandsten. They were poised to be as big as the Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs (and, in fact, had toured with the Yeahs). They quickly outgrew Gern Blandsten and signed to Mute. Then Pat and Ron unceremoniously left The Liars, a band that they formed. I've never gotten the straight scoop on what happened (maybe I will tonight). I assume the label thought that sideshow-freak frontman Angus Andrew was the driving force behind the band. Well, anyone who's heard the two Mute releases that followed know that isn't the case. Ron and Pat licked their wounds and formed n0 things in the spring of 2004 with singer/guitarist Christian Dautresme. Based on what I've heard on their Myspace page, their sound has evolved into something more dissonant and disturbing, though you can still dance to it. Show starts at 9:30 and is $5.

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Another notable music-related event I attended this weekend was a screening of the new Neil Young film Heart of Gold at The Dundee Theater. It's worth checking out for Young fans, though it pales in comparison to his ultimate concert film, Rust Never Sleeps. Here we see a reflective Young performing a mostly acoustic set in Nashville sometime after an aneurysm scare that resulted in successful brain surgery. Backed by a band, strings, choir and a robotic, ghostly-looking Emmylou Harris, Young performs most of his new album, Prairie Wind, written just prior to his surgery. That influence, as well as the death of his father, adds weight to the proceedings. The concert is set up by brief interviews with longtime band members, then launches with a handful of Prairie Wind songs, most of which are forgettable. He then uncorks his usual chestnuts, further making the PW stuff pale in comparison. From a filmmaking perspective, Demme spends a lot of time on tight crops of Young's face (a la Silence of the Lambs) and wide shots of the stage. Not exactly exciting. The sound, on the otherhand, is amazing, especially in the Dundee Theater, which I've always thought had a superior sound system. See it while it's still here, cuz it'll be gone before you know it.

Tonight: The sold-out Death Cab for Cutie concert at Sokol Auditorium. Opening band, The Cribs, is (according to AMG) a British trio influenced by The Beatles with a couple albums out on Wichita Records. The last time I saw Death Cab there was maybe 300 downstairs at Sokol Underground -- it was packed, but not a sell-out (I think they've probably been through here since then). While I like their CDs, I've always thought their live show was somewhat lackluster. Now that they're "huge" I suspect they'll be bringing more to the stage than the usual stand-there-and-sing performance...

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…and no Little Brazil. Seems the band played a show in Billings, Montana, Friday night and raced to cover the 900 miles back to Omaha in time for last night's show. They didn't count on the black sheets of rain that met them along the way on the Interstate, slowing them down to a 70-mile-per-hour crawl. As midnight rolled around, the band was still 40 miles away. So close and yet so far away. Could be a long wait until we get to see these guys again as they don't have any shows booked that I'm aware of. Then again, they could pop up at O'Leaver's in a moment's notice.

LB's labelmates The Cops did make it last night, along with around 200 other folks who were able to find a place to park near the crowded Sokol, where a sold-out Blue October show was going on upstairs in the main auditorium. That show -- and that band -- were the butt of a lot of jokes from stage, and who can blame them? You ever heard Blue October? Anyway, The Cops kept up their end of the deal last night, sounding pretty much like how they sound on their new CD -- a cross between The Clash and Rocket from the Crypt and a New York garage punk band. Extremely well played. Mike Jaworski looked at home strutting around stage in the frontman role and sounding like a modern-day Joe Strummer. I've got to hand it to them, they actually managed to get a few people dancing -- maybe a dozen or so right in front of the stage.

This was the first time I've seen Race for Titles with new drummer Matt Baum (ex-a dozen local bands including The '89 Cubs and Desaparecidos). No doubt he brought a different style to the mix than former drummer Matt Bowen -- a more throaty, muscular sound, leaner, more straightforward, more epic. Though the set was all new material (or so they said from stage) it still had that same RFT sound heavy on delay, dense with echo, and the same dry, wailing vocals that aren't so much about melody as they are about adding another layer to the moody, red-light vibe the band casts, reminiscent of shimmering '80s bands like The Church and (a less poppy, more moody version of) The Cure. Their best number was an ambitious, larger-than-life closer that would send the crowd home through a driving rain, wondering if Little Brazil's vanishing act was just another April Fool's Day prank...

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