Tell me about being on Team Love. Did Conor have to sign off on the record before it was released?

We really wanted him more involved in the whole recording and production part of it. He didn't get a chance to hear it until it was mostly finished. We sent him 12 songs that we recorded and started thinking about track order. That was a collaboration between Nate and Conor, and then we sat down as a band and discussed it. That was most of what he did. It would have liked him to have had a bigger role.

So how has it been being on Team love?

We couldn't be happier. We have so much freedom to do what we want. We've been so lucky with him just starting a label. The press release will say that this is the second Tilly album on Conor Oberst's label. It's nice to be aligned with him. A lot of his bands really trust in his vision.

What was it like working with AJ Mogis in the studio?

He's great. He's good at micing stuff to make it sound really interesting and clean. He finds the exact sound you want. And he has a thing where he won't tell you which take is best, but will do more takes if you're willing. It was on our heads to decide if we needed another. It's obviously has better sound quality than the debut because we did this one in a studio.

I heard you moved to LA, true?

I moved out in January but haven't been there very much. I've been back a week before we left to tour Europe and play South by Southwest.

Why the move?

I have a couple friends there. I love the weather. LA's got a bad rep. I wanted something … maybe just bigger and a little dirtier than Omaha. I love Omaha for sure. I've been here four and a half years. I'm from Atlanta. It's funny to say this, but there's so much stuff to walk to from my house -- there's a grocery store right across the street. I only drive on the freeway when people out of town come in and visit.

How do you get pumped up before shows?

It's always so much fun just to perform. We feed off the audience energy. The five of us in a row on stage, it's like a team vibe. It's important to us that people have a good time at our shows.

One of the most enjoyable nights I've had at O'Leaver's in a long time, could you ask for a more diverse bill? Isn't this what all shows should be like? Probably. Maybe. Definitely.

First up was An Iris Pattern fronted by Omaha's own man of mystery and intrigue Greg Loftis looking like the spitting image of Jeff Tweedy, surrounding himself with some of the better talent in the city, judging from what I heard. James McMann on bass is no slouch, whether you like GTO or not, you cannot deny that this guy has some amazing chops. I don't know who the other guys were, but all were solid, especially the band's lead guitarist, who clearly understands the right way to play an arena-style rock guitar solo. Iris Pattern is just that -- an arena-rock band that would have felt right at home at the Civic Auditorium in the '70s. The guy next to me compared them to Billy Thorpe, and in fact, Loftis' voice has a similar timbre. Another guy was reminded of early Gram Parsons. I couldn't put my finger on who they sounded like, but can tell you that live they're much harder than what can be heard on the recordings posted at their myspace site. The sound mix was uneven and disappointing, mainly because these guys seem engineered for a larger stage (though the headliners, who have a similar trait, sounded perfect). Someone get them down to Sokol Underground.

Though it's been almost a year since they played live, The Monroes have not lost an ounce of their rural-fied energy. Classic heartland tractor-punk at it's finest. If you've never heard them before, their rural punk sound is driven mercilessly by Lincoln Dickison's guitar, which sounds like a chainsaw cutting a Hot Rod Lincoln in half. Keeping Dickison from going completely unhinged is the rhythm section of drummer Jesse Render and bassist Mike Tulis. Render's drums are rat-a-tat-tatty, understated and subtle. I tried to imagine what Render and these guys would sound like behind a big, throaty, hammering drum set and realized it would throw everything out of whack. Translated: leave it alone, it's just right. Tulis' role is just as important as it is understated. Listen closely and you realize he's the guy driving the tractor. Then there's frontman Gary Dean Davis, who looks exactly like he did more than a decade ago when he was fronting Frontier Trust, the band that The Monroes most resemble. Gary's hog-calling, atonal yell -- barking out lines about Impalas and the hook-and-ladder formation -- speaks for the everyman in every Nebraskan whose ever navigated the state's washboard-ladden dirt roads. Highlight of their set was a new yet-to-be-recorded tune that shows Render at his rat-a-tat-tattiest. If you missed them last night, The Monroes are playing a Speed! Nebraska Records showcase down at Sokol Underground June 30 with Ideal Cleaners and Diplomats of Solid Sound.

Finally, taking the stage in all their theatrical glory were Oklahoma City's The Stock Market Crash. People who'd seen them before warned me that I should have worn sunglasses because these guys like to shoot flood lights into the crowd a la The Faint and a dozen other dance bands. Frontman Matthew Bacon looked like he just walked out of a late '80s Duran Duran video with a get-up that included a Russian sailor's shirt, jacket, Clockwork Orange bowler, tight slacks and eyeliner. The style didn't stop with the costume, Bacon had all the moves you'd expect from any British pop band that you remember from the early days of MTV's 120 Minutes (who remember ABC?). The whole thing would be a joke if the band wasn't so damn good. They were as close to authentic as you're going to find, emulating bands like Psychedelic Furs and Morrissey, though at the end of the day, Bacon reminded me of an energetic Jarvis Cocker from Pulp channeling Bowie and Julian Cope. Yes, there were flood lights, as well as stage smoke and strobes, lighting up Bacon as he darted into the crowd and leaned into frightened, confused patrons. Fun!

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

Briefly, here's what's happening this weekend show-wise:

At the top of the order are The Monroes with Stockmarket Crash and An Iris Pattern at O'Leaver's. This is a comeback of sorts for The Monroes, who haven't played live in quite a while. $5, 9 p.m.

Also tonight, Two Gallants are doing a one-of-a-kind acoustic set at Mick's in Benson. It may be the only time you'll get to see the duo take this approach to their usually blazing sea-shanty ballads. That said, playing unplugged should be an easy transition for these folky guys. With Drakkar Sauna. $8, 9 p.m.

Saturday night at Sokol Underground boasts the return of The Cuterthans after a four-year absence. Did I say Cuterthans? I guess they're actually going by the name Skull Fight!, which is less interesting than the original name. "The Cuterthans (err.. Skull Fight!, as the audience will find out that night) have got pieces of the Carsinogents, Viagrasound (Virgasound) , The Fonzies, and Roarbot all balled up into one," said cuter than a skull fighter Jason Steady, who also promises that the band will be offering free root beer at the show. How can you beat that? Also on the bill are Straight Outta Junior High, Treaty of Paris and VKS, a band that Steady says is "a bunch of high school-aged kids playing ska. That's right, SKA. Just when you thought it was long gone, here come the youngsters." $7, 8 p.m.

Sunday night is a busy one, what with everyone having the next day off and all. Down at O'Leaver's it's The Third Men opening for Oakley Hall, a band that Conor Oberst name-checked in his interview in this week's issue of The City Weekly, which should guarantee the place will be crawling with slackerly indie kids. $5, 9 p.m.

Meanwhile, downtown at Sokol Underground, Rhymesayers member DJ Abilities will be on the turntable and the mic. $10, 9 p.m.

And if you're in Lincoln, you'll want to check out Saddle Creek Records artist Ladyfinger with Them Vs. Them and the incomparable Virgasound at Duffy's. $5, 9:30 p.m.

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

Column 78: Don't be a Tough Guy
What you don't hear can hurt you

There are a few things that can make you feel like "an old guy" at a rock show. I won't get into the gloomy specifics involving people looking young enough to be your children or bartenders not even looking for the fluorescent wrist-band -- everyone knows you're old enough to drink, pops.

Earplugs are another one. I've been wearing them to rock shows starting back in '93 when I road-tripped with Lincoln band Mercy Rule to a show at Harry Mary's in Des Moines. Before their set, bassist/frontwoman Heidi Ore strolled through the crowd of angry punks with a prescription vial in hand.

She wasn't passing out drugs, she was handing out earplugs. She ambled up to one big guy with his arms crossed and made an offering. He just nodded his head. He didn't need them. The pixie-ish, bespeckled, five-foot-nothing dynamo responded flatly, "Don't be a tough guy, just take them." He did. So did I. And she was right, we needed them. Few bands play as loudly as Mercy Rule did, thanks to Jon Taylor's roaring guitar.

That was the first time I wore earplugs at a show. I've been wearing them ever since -- little yellow pieces of foam tied together by a handy blue cord, the kind railroad workers wear in the field and in the shops. I've had a case of them in my cupboard all these years and always keep extra pairs in my car in case I forget to take them with me. Dr. Britt Thedinger, an otologist at Ear Specialists of Omaha, says the practice may well have saved my hearing.

I know, I know, you've read a gazillion stories about the dangers of loud rock music. I don't blame you if you stop reading. And to be honest, I didn't seek out Thedinger to do a story on earplugs. It was my iPod that motivated me, along with the dozens or recent stories about how prolonged listening to iPods could cause hearing damage. Could I have wasted all those years wearing earplugs only to be butchering my hearing with my iPod while cycling the Keystone Trail?

I dropped by Thedinger's midtown clinic last Saturday morning. What I heard surprised me. I expected gloom and doom. In fact, things aren't that bad.

Turns out the iPod scare is mostly hype. "I don't think there's a huge iPod crisis of people losing their hearing right and left," he said. Still, too much of anything can't be a good thing. Thedinger said a sign that you're listening to your iPod too loudly is if the person next to you can clearly make out what you're listening to. That's pretty freaking loud. But what about my trusty Etymotic in-ear isolator earphones? "If they're turned up so loud that they hurt your ears, you're damaging your hearing," he said.

Pretty simple advice. Okay, so while I'm here, what about those standard yellow, foam earplugs that cost about 50 cents at the Quik Pick? Are they doing the trick? Thedinger said they block about 29 dBs, more than adequate to protect me at a typical rock show, which he says can get as loud as 115 dBs. Wadded up toilet paper, by the way, blocks only 3 to 5 dBs -- in other words, it doesn't work.

But even if I didn't wear earplugs at every show, Thedinger said I'd probably be okay. Hearing damage occurs from prolonged high-decibel noise exposure. "At that level, it has to be continuous," Thedinger said. "The quiet few minutes between songs is usually enough to recover."

It also depends on the room's acoustics and where you stand, like right in front of speakers that can blow out up to 125 dBs. Even a short exposure at that level can erode your ability to hear frequencies between 2,000 to 8,000 hz -- the range where human speech makes lispy syllables, like "sh," "th," p's, and f's.

Which brings us to tinnitus -- the ringing in your ears that everyone's experienced after a night at The Qwest Center. Turns out that ringing is always there. We just don't notice it until our hearing has been damaged -- then it's all we hear.

"When I was doing my residency in a Boston emergency room, we'd have patients come in after a concert at The Garden saying, 'My ears are ringing and it's driving me nuts.' The membranes had swollen in their ears resulting in decreased hearing capability, so they could hear the tinnitus. After a few days the swelling went down, their hearing improved and the tinnitus went away."

Unless, of course, they sheered off the nerves, permanently damaging their hearing.

You might recover just fine after a few loud concerts without earplugs, but night after night of unprotected hearing will sneak up on you. "It's an insidious process," Thedinger said. "People don't realize the damage they've done until it's too late. And once you've lost it, it's gone."

It still amazes me every time I look around at rock shows and notice that I'm the only one wearing earplugs. The excuse that they "ruin the experience" is lame. They allow me to actually focus more on the bands and worry less about damage -- even if they may make me look like an old wuss in the eyes of guys too tough to wear them.

"You can be as tough as you want," the good doctor said, "but it's a real pain in the ass being hearing impaired."

Catching up on some assorted old news from the web on a sleepy Wednesday…

-- Looks like Crooked Fingers frontman Eric Bachmann will have his next solo album, To the Races, released on Saddle Creek Records Aug 22, according to this item at aversion.com. This is a great add to the Creek roster -- i.e., I dig Bachmann's Crooked Fingers records.

-- Also, on Aug. 22, Cursive will release their next full-length, Happy Hollow. Punknews.org has the track list here, while, Cursive's summer tour dates just went up on CMJ here, including an Aug. 4 Lollapalooza gig in Grant Park, Chicago.

-- My annual predictions article just seems to get more and more on target. Remember I said that this was the year Bright Eyes a.k.a. Conor Oberst would appear on Saturday Night Live? Well, apparently it happened last Saturday night... sort of. According to tvsquad.com (because who else stays home and watches SNL these days?), host Kevin Spacey did a skit toward the end of the program where he dressed up as Neil Young promoting his new album I Do Not Agree With Many Of This Administration's Policies. Among those helping out with the performance, Adam Samberg (famous for the "Lazy Sunday" vid) dressed up as and introduced as Conor Oberst. If anyone sees this online somewhere, pass on the link, I'd love to see it.

-- Personal critic/writing guru Robert Christgau has a new Consumer Guide entry at the Village Voice (here) He loves the new one by The Streets and gives the new Springsteen album the "dud of the month" award.

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

I turn to the soundguy three or four minutes into The Terminals set at O'Leaver's last night and tell him I can't hear the guitar at all. It's somewhat overpowered, he replies, by the keyboards, which have to pull double-duty as both keyboards and bass. It's the first time I've heard The Terminals since John Ziegler left the band a year or so ago. As a trio, they've lived on with Dave Goldberg playing the role of the band's energizer bunny, while Liz and Brooks Hitt provide the necessary punk moxy. While those two are married in real life, it's Dave and Liz who are the Fred and Ethel of the combo, playing off each other like bickering teen parents in a kitschy '50s B-movie. Make that '50s horror B-movie, as that also sums up their sound, which has evolved from a trash '60s garage band a la Them and Pretty Things a year ago to something more closely resembling The Cramps, propelled early in the set by Goldberg's carnival-ride organ, the same one you remember from his Carsinogents days. Goldberg has been on the leading tip of the area's psychobilly revival sound since his days in Full Blown, and if anything, that revival is picking up steam, judging by the popularity of this band and Brimstone Howl, who played after them.

Goldberg's organ pulled back and the guitars came forward as the set wore on, and garage punk ensued -- less retro, more angry. I like Liz Hitt's guitar solos almost as much as I like her girl-next-door-on-the-verge-of-a-homicide vocals. She didn't look like she was having fun until she switched to keyboards (and once, to drums), her face turning heat-seeker red while pounding on that organ, while cross stage Goldberg was making his guitar bark. There was one song (I don't know its name) where the two trade lines back and forth and it was the best moment of the evening.

Brimstone was up next, but I had to head home (some of us have to work at the crack of dawn). Opening last night was a trio called The Shanks playing quick, punchy borderline hardcore songs. Lots of yelling. A couple "Oy's" here and there. Remarkably sloppy. Was this their first gig, I asked the promoter. Maybe, probably, he said. You never know where these things will go. They could wind up being the next Nirvana. "Now you can say you saw The Shanks first show," I said to the guy across the table. "Yeah," he said, "and maybe their last."

* * *

Tonight is a mammoth show down at Sokol Underground -- Minus the Bear, Criteria, Russian Circles and The Lovekill. Minus the Bear is touring in support of Menos el Oso, the best record of their storied career. Criteria plays a home gig after months of touring the U.S. Welcome them back. Russian Circles' 6-song Flameshovel debut clocks in at over 43 minutes -- long, droning songs that build, you know the routine. Cleveland's The Lovekill play jangular punk. 9 p.m., $12.

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

Time only for some brief comments about last night's packed show at O'Leaver's. And it was packed. I was pushed to a far-off table and could barely see what was going on on stage. That said, I could hear just fine, and the highlight of the evening was opening band Now, Archimedes! Fronted by Bob Thornton, who also fronts Past Punchy, N,A! is a trio that includes former members of Fischer, Solid Jackson and Raymond Nothing. Their style is pure mid-'90s buzzsaw punk that reminded me of Thornton's old band Culture Fire. Raw, frenzied, with great-big-ol' riffs and lots of yelling, it's something that's been missing from the scene for too long. As the guy who was standing next to me put it, they sounded like every band that ever played at The Cog Factory. Past Punchy and The Present sounded like the lighter, more rural side of Omaha's mid-'90s scene -- sort of a Neil Young version of Frontier Trust. The capacity crowd ate it up, and I dug it to, but I would have liked to have heard more Archimedes...

Another solid night of punk at O'Leaver's tonight with The Terminals, Brimstone Howl and Rat Traps. $5, 9 p.m. Be there.

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

Glancing at the calendar, not a good time to be sick as a dog (though my cold appears to be subsiding) . Strange weekend of shows. Let's take a look:

Tonight, maybe the strangest gig of all: Cloud Cult at O'Leaver's. It's the Minneapolis band's so-called "Eco-Friendly" Tour. These six hippies travel around in a solar-powered van playing indie rock that's been compared to Modest Mouse. Instrumentation includes cello, drums, bass, random electronics, keyboard and guitar. With them on stage (according to their one-sheet) will be live painters and back-screen video projection (better start tearing a hole in the back of the stage, Sean). How all this stuff will fit inside O'Leaver's, no one can say. Maybe the painters can do their thing down in the basement? I've been told by someone at the bar that they've been informed that "a busload of people will be arriving to attend the show." This has all the makings of a classic episode of my new hit half-hour sitcom about the Omaha scene that I should be writing for HBO. Opening is The Amateurs. $5, 9:30 p.m.

Your best bet may be to head to Mike's in CB and see Members of the Press with Bullets for Baby and LouderThanLove, all for only $3. MotP is Randy Cotton's band, and is the last bastion of angst/noise/punk left over from the old Ritual Device days now that Saklar is playing pretty guitar solos and Moss is missing in action somewhere in a cloud of San Francisco stoner rock. 162 W. Broadway.

Tomorrow (Saturday): Bloodcow and Life After Laserdisque at O'Leaver's -- talk about a strange combination, but LAL prides itself on playing with any style of music (remember that hip-hop show just a few weeks ago?). $5, 9 p.m.

And lest we forget, The Third Men and Pendrakes are playing at the The 49'r Saturday night as well.

That brings us to Sunday, and the return of Past Punchy and the Presents at O'Leaver's along with Le Beat and possibly a surprise third band. Mr. Thornton ain't saying exactly what he has up his sleeve, but it could get interesting. This will be the last time that Omahans will be hearing from Past Punchy's Alex McManus for awhile as he heads out of town on travels that I'm told includes some touring with one of his many former bands. $5, 9 p.m.

And as extra credit, I want to give an early shout-out to a show next Monday at O'Leaver's (jeeze, you'd think I work there or something). The Omaha/Lincoln band The Terminals featuring the legendary Dave Goldberg takes the stage along with The Rat Traps. This show could make me painfully late for work on Tuesday.

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

Column 77 -- The Last Double Standard
Are women vocalists judged differently then men?

I credit Omaha's hardest working bassist and walking rock music encyclopedia Mike Tulis (The Monroes, Simon Joyner and the Wind-up Birds, The Third Men) for this installment's theme. It was his wisdom that inspired it.

Here's what happened: We were standing side-by-side in the back of O'Leaver's listening to a rock band -- Tulis in one of his stylish hats drinking an old-school tallboy. Classic.

On came the next band, which happened to feature a female vocalist. About halfway through the first verse, I noticed a slight shift in her voice. In the height of passion, she pushed it a bit too far in one direction, causing it to careen slightly off key. I turned to Tulis and yelled (because people don't talk at rock shows -- they scream at each other) "What do you think of her voice?"

Tulis just looked at me with his flat, knowing Tulis stare -- dead eyes behind his glasses. "I'm not going there," he yelled. "It's one of the last remaining double-standards in rock -- if a guy sings off-key, everyone thinks he rocks, but if a woman's voice is less than perfect, she sucks."

And like rays of light breaking through afternoon clouds, Tulis' words opened my mind. Think of all the lousy male singers you've seen on stage -- cocky, lazy, strutting around with their swooped haircuts and ironic retro clothing -- whose voices carelessly fell off pitch, twisting back and forth like a drunken businessman headed back to work after a three-martini lunch. You cringe with every off-kilter note, but ask the crowd what they thought after the set and you'll hear things like "Genius!" or "Man, he rocked!"

But if it's a woman, and her voice wavers oh-so-slightly, the result is rolled eyeballs. "Man, did you hear that? Where'd she learn to sing?" You've done it. Admit it.

So are women performers aware of this double-standard? I asked around, starting with Sarah Benck, perhaps our scene's most well-known female vocalist. Benck, whose forte is cranking out soulful, strutting Bonnie Raitt-style R&B, has a confident voice that never wavers. Though she says she's never had to deal with any "discrimination," she knows she's being judged on stage. "Springsteen, Jagger, those guys are on the top in the industry. They don't have fantastic voices. It's all about rocking out," Benck said. "I can only think of one female vocalist, Patti Smith, whose voice is an acquired taste. From the get go, it wasn't about what she looked like and sounded like, it was always about what she had to say. Her imperfection was part of her expression."

But Patti was the only example that Benck could come up with of a successful woman vocalist with less than stellar chops. The only one that I could think of was Chrissie Hynde of The Pretenders. Her voice -- not pretty, and come to think of it, neither is she. The vocal double-standard is a social model, Benck said, that carries over from how people judge appearance. Erica Hanton, who sings in both Kite Pilot and The Protoculture, said the double-standard comes from an industry that markets women differently than men.

"You know, how, supposedly, 'ugly' men are considered distinctive or unique," Hanton said. "You don't see many women who are outside the 'standard beauty' who get that kind of treatment. So if a woman's voice is not a standard, nice-on-the-ears pretty, familiar-sounding voice, it's not acceptable. Imperfection in a guy's vocals gives it character. Imperfection in a female's vocals makes people uncomfortable."

Society, Hanton added, is all about correcting female imperfections.

But what about the woman who was singing the night of Tulis' epiphany? The vocalist was Megan Morgan of Landing on the Moon, a local indie rock band that throws a wrench into their sound with salty, John Steinman-esque rock ballads. Morgan knows a thing or two about singing -- she's the choral director at Bryan Middle School. She says if she's off-key during her set it's because she's lost in the moment. It's never intentional. That's not the case with a lot of stylish male vocalists she's heard warble over the years.

"I don't like it when guys try to sing like that," she said about their forced nonchalant approach. "Some guys sound that way on purpose. It's supposed to be artistic. They're supposed to be filled with so much emotion and angst. It sounds fake to me."

It's always been forgivable for guys to sing sloppy, Morgan said. Not so for women. "Women aren't supposed to have that I-don't-care attitude," she said. "When a woman is on stage, people pay attention. I always try to make it sound as pleasing as possible. But when you're into it, you become part of the music. Where it goes is where it takes you. Hopefully the audience is coming along with you."

What's my point? Don't judge the voice; listen to what the voice is trying to convey in all its blemished honesty. It took Tulis to shake me from my daze and really listen to what Megan was singing instead of mentally comparing her to whatever ignorant stereotype society has dictated that a woman vocalist should be. Once I was really paying attention, it changed everything -- about her band, about her performance. I heard a woman belting it out on stage, holding nothing back, lost in her music and lyrics. And just like that, I got lost, too.

Sorry for the lack of update yesterday. Things are just getting back to normal with Lazy-i's server. The archived Blogger entries are now available again. And just as the weather finally becomes spring-like, I come down with a chest cold. Life sucks!

Anyway, according to the One Percent Productions website, the line-up for the June 17 Memorial Park Bright Eyes Concert appears to be in place. The openers are Welshman Gruff Rhys of Super Furry Animals -- apparently a friend of Oberst's -- and Neva Dinova, who recently signed to Saddle Creek Records. This came as something of a surprise as some of the organizers had said they didn't want the concert to be a "Saddle Creek showcase." A number of non-Creek Omaha bands had been rumored to be in contention for the opening slots. In the end, the decision was likely Oberst's and Oberst's alone. Certainly Mayor Mike Fahey isn't a fan of Rhys' 2005 solo debut Yr Atal Genhedlaeth. In fact, no one around here has even heard it before, except Oberst. Regardless, just imagine the crowd singing along to "Rhagluniaeth Ysgafn" or "Y Gwybodusion" or the infectious "Chwarae'n Troi'n Chwerw." Does it get any better than that?

Then there's Neva Dinova, a band that to this day would be hard-pressed to sell out Sokol Underground. Ah, but they're on Creek now, certainly that'll make the difference to the thousands of Omahans who are on the fence deciding whether or not they should go to the free show. Fact is -- and Oberst and the organizers know this -- it never mattered who opened the concert since anyone who shows up will be there to see Bright Eyes anyway. If you're Oberst and Creek, why not put your most recent signing on the bill? And though Rhys debut was released on a subsidiary of Rough Trade, I wouldn't be surprised if his next one comes out on Oberst's Team Love label. Industrious? You bet.

Now go back and read my Acid Test in the Park column and think about how many people will show up for the concert. Better yet, ask yourself how many Omahans will be there, because certainly the biggest draw now will come from rabid Bright Eyes fans from around the country who will be making a pilgrimage to see their beloved savior at his only non-festival appearance this year in the United States. It's only one month away...

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

Amazing how far you can get behind in just a few days. The site is still not fully "there." Some pages still look askew. This will be fixed shortly. Also, there's a good chance that this update will disappear if the host service replaces the current version of the site with a backup. Your patience is appreciated.

First, The Lincoln Journal Star published a piece about "Omaha's booming music scene" late last week that included some quotes from me. You can read it here. My only comment is that I never called Mercy Rule "Mercy Kills" -- but you know that already. It's a long read. I wish the author would have interviewed an Omaha musician for the article (Mike Fratt is in a band, but he's representing Homer's in this story and his role in Goodbye Sunday wasn't explained). The central theme of the story was supposed to be "Is Omaha the next Seattle?" I was asked the question along with everyone else, and my answer was "no." There is no band from Omaha that has made a national impact in the way Nirvana, Pearl Jam or Soundgarden did. Omaha is what it is, which is all it needs to be.

Saturday night's Gomez concert was a nice surprise. I'm not a big fan of the band's middle-of-the-road made-for-VH1 style music, but I have to admit they sounded rather huge on stage, and the crowd (of about 250?) was going crazy for them. If you went to the front, you got the feeling that you were at an arena show except for the line of beer bottles that littered the edge of the stage. Plus, they played for almost two hours, just like a real rock concert. There was only one time during their set that I felt I was listening to a British band -- when they ripped into a throbbing, psychedelic number that had shades of '90s Manchester showing through the usual plastic exterior. I wanted more of that, but didn't get it.

Tonight, the wonky keyboard-driven spectacle that is Islands. Their music is fun-pop indie sunshine as light as a feather. Opening is Busdriver and Cadence Weapon (what, no local band?). 9 p.m., $8.

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

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

Column 76: Everything Old is Old Again
Retro rock is more than a feeling…

Have you listened to the radio lately?

It's changed, sort of. Actually, it hasn't changed. And maybe that's the problem. Or maybe it isn't a problem at all.

Look. I was buzzing through the dial the other day, CD-less and i-Podless in my little car, trying to find something/anything to listen to. Something new. Something exciting. Something that could CHANGE MY LIFE.

Here's what I found: On one station Joe Walsh was singing about being an ordinary, average guy. On another station, Dennis DeYoung was boasting about being a blue collar man. On yet another station, Bono was crooning about the assassination of MLK. And on a fourth, Steve Miller was flying like an eagle -- by now, an arthritic eagle with a growing prostate problem.

Radio has grown up, but at the same time, it never grew old. Not in a conventional sense. I turn on the radio now and I can still hear the same songs I heard in the basement of our family's house on Hartman Ave., down in my big brothers' bedrooms where the only stations played on our vintage Panasonic stereo were of the FM variety -- Z-92, Rock 100 and KQ98. The hot song: "More Than a Feeling" by Boston. Brad Delp warbling incomprehensible lyrics above a wall of Tom Scholz' studio-spawned, multi-layered guitar. It was 1976 and the only thing cooler than that song was the album cover that contained it.

Thirty freakin' years later and you can still hear "More Than a Feeling" today -- right now -- somewhere on the FM dial.

I've heard it called "retro programming." The experts say these radio stations -- these electronic museums of an arena-rock past -- are laser-targeting women in their 30s and 40s, the golden geese of leisure-suited radio admen because everyone knows 30-ish women are the leaders of this disposable-income-powered America. I have been told this by people "in the know." But I don't believe it. The appeal of retro programming goes beyond a specific demographic.

Seems like the only Omaha station playing new rock music these days is 89.7 The River, but even then, the programming is dominated by monster-voiced power-metal goon-rock bands that couldn't find a melody if it snuck up and bit them on their powerchord. Yes, there are a couple hip-hop stations out there, too, along with car-sick inducing C&W stations. But where can I hear the new rock songs that will define the '00 generation?

You have to remember, the first time I heard Styx, Foreigner and The Steve Miller Band, they were brand new! Z-92 was a new music station that prided itself on playing the hottest new arena rock music. They certainly didn't play songs that were 30 years old. Not once did Otis 12 and Diver Dan throw on a Nat King Cole or Dinah Shore platter from 1946. Yet, 30-year-old music is now a staple on the Z, along with a half-dozen other local radio stations, and kids can't get enough of it.

Again, where are the new rock "classics" that radio, in whatever form it takes, will be playing on retro stations in 2036? What songs from today will be used in hovercar commercials the way Led Zeppelin and Bob Seger are used to hock Cadillacs and Chevy trucks now? When was the last time you heard an "important" new rock song on commercial radio, one that will still be played in rotation 30 years from now?

Come on. Think.

The fact is, as fuddy-duddy as it sounds, they just don't write music like that anymore. And they probably never will. Your youth may be defined by the latest angst-rock song by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs or indie ballad by Death Cab for Cutie, but the memory landmark stops with you and the handful of friends you hang out with at the mall. An entire generation will not be defined by The Arcade Fire, Flaming Lips and Belle and Sebastian the way arena-rock bands like Heart, Van Halen and ZZ Top so perfectly represent teen life for an entire nation in the '70s, the way Jimi, Joni, Janis and The Beatles did a decade before that.

Even the music that defined my college years -- The Smiths, Husker Du, The Cure, Depeche Mode -- as good as it was, when was the last time you heard "How Soon is Now" on the radio?

But why even mention indie music? American Idol is what this country listens to. Along with hip-hop -- the new rock music. That means that this generation will be defined by Eminem, Ghostface Killah, T.I. and Kelly Clarkson. Do you really believe that? I don't, either.

I've got a strange, sick feeling that 30 years from now, as we're boarding the afternoon space shuttle, as we're flying in our saucer cars or waiting in line to buy another week's worth of food cubes, we'll still be hearing "More than a Feeling" on the Z.

Where did Gomez go?

People who followed the band after their '98 breakthrough debut, the Mercury Prize winning Bring It On, just assumed that its success was the launching pad for the British band's rise on the American pop charts. More than once the phrases "on the heels of Oasis" and "the new Beatles" were seen printed in national music rags.

On top of that, the band's cover of The Beatles' "Getting Better" became a pseudo-hit when it was used in a Phillips light bulb TV commercial. Some thought it was better than the original, thanks to Tom Gray's and Ben Ottwell's gravelly delivery.

The band followed Bring It On with Liquid Sky in '99 and In Our Gun in '02, both released on tiny Hut Records, a subsidiary of Virgin. But with every subsequent release, Gomez failed to recapture the hype that surrounded their debut, even though the music was just as clever and catchy. By the time Split the Difference was released in '04, Hut Records had disintegrated, making it their last release involving Virgin.

"From a recognition standpoint, it's been an interesting ride," said Gomez bassist/guitarist Paul Blackburn via cell phone after just arriving in New Orleans, where the band was scheduled to perform as part of the city's famous Jazz and Heritage Festival that evening. "We started out and got some acclaim with our first album, and after that, we kind of got whacked a bit."

Tonight, after voting (Get out there, people!), I intend to drag myself down to Sokol Underground to see Omaha band An Iris Pattern when they open for headliner Koufax, along with Drag the River and Cordero.

I know nothing about the three touring acts. I have heard An Iris Pattern's tracks on their myspace account and loved them, especially the dreamy "Sentenced to Each Other." From what I can glean from their site, the band is driven by Ben Zinn and mysterious frontman Greg Loftis. Who is this Loftis fellow whose name has been whispered on the periphery of the Omaha music scene? Loftis, who has been described as both a genius and a shady character by those who know him. According to their bio, An Iris Pattern's recordings have involved Tim Kasher, A.J. Mogis, Kyle Harvey, Reagan Roeder, Wade Hacklar, Landon Hedges, Dave Collins, Oliver Morgan and Jenna Morrison, along with James McMann and Lars Gallagher. Quite a line-up. I'm also told An Iris Pattern has performed on stage before, but only as a solo acoustic deal. First I hear the band is the next big thing and that I should check them out, next I'm told it's in Limbo and that Loftis is cooling his heels in Spain or Greece or Amsterdam. Will he be there tonight? Find out. $8, 9 p.m. sharp.

Along with a review of the show (if I go), look for an interview with Gomez, online at Lazy-i tomorrow.

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

Some thoughts on Saturday night's Kite Pilot CD release show, a few days after the fact… I got there toward the end of Eagle*Seagulls' usual superb set, more evidence that these guys are positioned to take over the world, if they so choose. Frontman Eli Mardock has even taken the drastic step of shaving his once-shaggy head -- an unmistakable fashion statement (unless, of course, spring fleas had something to do with the shearing). I recognized songs from their debut that I've heard two or three other times on stage. They've never sounded so big, but I had to wonder what's next for these guys. They started off as Lincoln's version of The Arcade Fire mixed with Interpol, they morphed into a sublime version of Wolf Parade and now have come out on the other side wholly on their own, with no one left to compare them to.

Next came Kite Pilot featuring two additional trumpet players and Spring Gun guitarist Nate Mickish helping out on a few numbers. Like Eagle*Seagull, the band has never sounded better. I credit the Sokol Underground's sound system and the dozens of family and friends in the crowd lending their support (Among them, two members of The Protoculture, who told me they have an O'Leaver's gig scheduled in the coming weeks).

Things started off with a bang when keyboardist/trumpeter Todd Hanton threw a dozen or so plush teddy bears into the crowd. One got lodged on the lighting equipment, which resulted in some guy putting his bottle of beer on the ground while his buddy hoisted him up to get it. He missed, dropped backward and landed on the bottle, which exploded beneath his feet. Someone else got the teddy, eventually.

The bears were a cute touch, and cuteness is exactly what this band doesn't need any more of, especially with darling frontwoman Erica Hanton sounding more and more like Bjork on songs that are already sweet sweet sweet… but not as sweet as the tunes heard on the band's debut EP. Kite Pilot's new album is something of a tough sell -- a more serious recording that doesn't easily invite dancing. Unlike the EP, which is a pop gem.

One of the night's standouts was drummer Jeremy Stanosheck, who came into his own providing the tightest, strongest performance I've ever seen from him with any band -- an accomplishment, considering the sometimes intricate arrangements on the proggy new songs which made up most of set. The band finished with "a new one" that was the best tune of the night. The sound wasn't a new direction as much as a welcome return to the pop style heard on their EP, complete with some wicked group singing. This new direction -- or return direction -- is where I'd like to hear this band go next. Judging from the crowd response, I'm not alone.

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

You get two bands in one form or another two nights in a row! What more could you ask for? Tonight at O'Leaver's Kite Pilot's Austin Britton is doing a solo set with Eagle*Seagull's Eli Murdock and Spring Gun's Nate Mickish, who's also playing with Kite Pilot these days. $5, 9:30 p.m. Then tomorrow night at Sokol Underground, it's Kite Pilot's CD release show with Eagle*Seagull and Spring Gun. Weird, in'it? That show is $7, 9 p.m.

Those who read the OWH daily might wonder why I overlooked that little nugget in Niz' Kite Pilot story -- the one about Austin moving to San Diego to attend seminary... Well, they talked about it at our interview, but I was asked to keep it out of the story. I guess the cat's out of the bag now. Will the band survive? Sure, said the Hantons. The line-up will change, but Kite Pilot will go on some way, some how. That said, the band will likely record some new material before Austin heads to Cali, including a new song that will be unveiled Saturday that they say has received the biggest reaction of anything they've played before. Can't wait to hear it.

Also Saturday night, Someday Never is hosting a show at O'Leaver's featuring Lincoln's The Killigans and Super Virgin. I'm told The Killigans do Irish-style punk rock in the vein of Flogging Molly. $5, 9 p.m.

Sunday sports two One Percent shows. Downtown at Sokol Underground it's a death-metal bash featuring A Life Once Lost and Cephalic Carnage. Also on the five-band bill is Omaha's Precious Metal. $8, 9 p.m. Meanwhile, over at O'Leaver's, its Cougars with The Stay Awake. Cougars are often compared to The Jesus Lizard, which is pretty much on the mark, at least from what I've heard off their Go Kart release, Pillow Talk. Big and loud, with the occasional horn part slipped in here and there (according to AMG, they formed out of the remains of a Chicago ska band, a bit of information they should try to keep under their hat).

Column 75: Success Hasn't Spoiled Them Yet
Kite Pilot defines it on their own terms.

It was all the way back in August of '05 when the first copies of Kite Pilot's new full-length, Mercy Will Close Its Doors, began surfacing 'round town.

Fifty hand-crafted CDR copies of the disc were distributed to press (including yours truly), record labels and friends of the band with hopes of generating some national indie label interest.

Eight months later and Kite Pilot is releasing Mercy… themselves. Some might consider that a failure, but not for a band who defines success on their own terms.

"We did get a label offer," said Austin Britton, who was joined last Saturday by fellow band members Erica Hanton and husband, Todd Hanton, in the couple's mid-town living room. Missing was drummer Jeremy Stanosheck, while new guitarist Nate Mickish (ex-Golden Age) showed up later.

No one was willing to say who the label was, only that differences -- artistic, business, personal and otherwise -- kept them from signing on the dotted line.

"The label just didn't seem to support what we wanted," Todd said. "There was a lot of talk about them being 'a big family' and allowing us to put out what we wanted, but their track record didn't support that. We wanted artistic control, and that's something you don't get anymore."

"There's this 'friendship model' out there now, where the labels want to be friends with you first," Britton said. "We're more interested in having them support the art first. They want to be bro's. That can come later, after the record is out."

Sound brutal? Britton and Hanton said it ain't personal, they just want the art to prevail. In fact, they want it the way it was in the '60s and '70s, back when major labels nurtured bands. "They signed you with the goal of helping develop your sound," Britton said. "Major labels were household names. You knew what a Motown artist was. Nobody knows or cares what label Britney Spears is on."

That said, the band also admitted that they weren't willing to make the personal sacrifices demanded by labels -- specifically, to tour extensively on a low budget.

"None of us are willing to quit our jobs to go on tour," Britton said. "In Kite Pilot, the band is subservient to the individuals; the individuals aren't subservient to the band. We won't sacrifice life and limb, and we don't want music to be our sole livelihood."

Uh, hold on a minute. The Hantons disagreed, saying they would be willing to make music a full-time career, but "we still want to live comfortably," Erica said. "We don't want to be obsessive about it."

That would take all the fun out of it, Todd said. And fun is what it all comes down to for this band, both in the studio and on stage where night-to-night, anything goes.

Kite Pilot defined their fun-loving style back in 2004 with a self-released debut EP that is a pop masterpiece. It effortlessly combines bouncing indie-pop with complex multi-instrument arrangements that lean on Todd Hanton and Britton's jazz backgrounds along with Erica's history as part of the classic post-punk band The Protoculture. Songs like the trumpet-fueled "Tree Caught the Kite" and dance anthem "On My Lips" can be heard nightly on O'Leaver's jukebox.

Things get more complicated on Mercy Will Close Its Doors. While the pop is still there, the arrangements are more complex and challenging -- which is a fancy way of saying the band wasn't afraid to take risks. For example, during one of Todd's airy trumpet solos on "Tiny Portraits (Of Miniature People)," Britton abruptly screams as if in agony. It's even more startling when heard performed live.

"There's no 'Kite Pilot sound,'" Britton said. "It's whatever the song needs, whether it's classical or jazz elements, or screaming. I listen to a lot of hardcore music. Screaming has a place as a musical tool."

"The first time he did it, we were shocked," Todd said. "There's a lot of personal experimentation going on."

Especially during their live set. Kite Pilot has garnered a reputation as one of those bands where, on any given night, you never know what you're in for. The results can be transcendent or downright disorienting.

"We let the songs do what they want to do live," Britton said. "If something's lacking, we'll change the part and do some improvisation."

The bottom line: They do whatever they want. Which is also how they define their success. Certainly not based on a record contract.

"I've known bands that live or die because of a record deal," Britton said. "They decide they don't need to do it anymore because they can't get signed."

"So many bands get hooked on the industry's definition of success." Hanton added. "If they don't fit that model, they've failed. No one ever said, 'You guys are successful because you didn't destroy yourselves doing what you love.'"

Kite Pilot hosts a CD release show with Eagle*Seagull and Spring Gun, Saturday, May 6, at Sokol Underground, 13th & Martha. Showtime is 9 p.m. Admission is $7.

Well, Pretty Girls didn't get Omaha'd. At least not much. Only a handful of the 130 or so on hand at Sokol Underground last night left after Giant Drag finished their set. Giant Drag, by the way, were pretty good. Little frontwoman Annie Hardy came off like a female version of Emo Phillips doing wonky schtick between songs, saying things like "I need more vocals in my monitors," to the soundguy, then "I like more vocals in my monitors just like Micah likes more cocks in his... monitors." She needled drummer Calabrese with these little comments all night. I felt like I was watching a husband and wife act in the Catskills circa 1969. Hardy was a tiny little thing, waifish. She looked like she weighed all of 75 pounds with that big ol' guitar slung over her shoulders. They made the most out of their two-person combo, with Calabrese playing drums and keyboards at the same time -- it was quite a feat. With the tiny keyboard somehow strapped to his drumset, he poked out small but potent counter melodies between swings of his drum stick. Talk about leveraging personnel costs. Hardy's voice was thin as a reed, but enough to push these minimal songs along in a Breeders/Blake Babies/Madder Rose sort of way. Her peep along with her broad guitar tone were enough to fuel a grungy cover of Chris Isaak's "Wicked Game." Nice. When will this parade of two-piece bands come to an end?

Pretty Girls Make Graves came on shortly afterward and only a few people walked out before their set. With their bigger-than-life frontwoman they come off with sort of an arena rock vibe, even though their songs lack whopping-big central hooks. Frontwoman Andrea Zollo is like an indie version of Pat Benatar -- less glamorous but just as pouty. The bass was way high in the mix, and after about three songs, I Omaha'd the set, having to get up early this morning.

* * *

Where's this week's feature? It's been incorporated into this week's column in an effort to give the writer more real estate to work with. Look for it tomorrow, featuring the fine folks in Kite Pilot.

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

Pretty Girls Make Graves tonight at Sokol Underground. I've spent the last week or so listening to the new Giant Drag CD, Hearts and Unicorns, which came out on Kickball last September. A duo consisting of hot-chick frontwoman Annie Hardy and drummer Micah Calabrese, they most-often are compared to My Bloody Valentine and Jesus and Mary Chain, which doesn't quite fit the bill for me. I liken them more to NYC's Madder Rose, a woefully overlooked band who produced some of the more grinding yet introspective music of the early and mid-'90s on Seed/Atlantic (and were amazing live, having played at The Howard St. Tavern during that era). On the slower numbers, Giant Drag sounds like Mazzy Star, with Hardy doing a spot-on Hope Sandoval ape. Should be interesting to see how they pull it off live if, in fact, they perform only as a duo. Hopefully the other opener, The Joggers, will be first up (if you know what I mean). Lets do what we can to ensure that Pretty Girls doesn't get Omaha'd tonight (though I do have to work tomorrow morning...). $10, 9 p.m.

It's a busy Tuesday, with O'Leaver's hosting a hip-hop show tonight as well that includes non hip-hop opener Life After Laserdisque.

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