Do you remember that song "Mr. Blue" from Running with Scissors? No, not ELO's "Mr. Blue Sky". Take away the white guy fro and all the bonkers vocal overdubs, keep the bouncing piano melody, and add a touch of wistful melancholy, and you get Catherine Feeny.

Catherine Feeny w/Future Historians & The Woodlands; Laurelthirst Public House, 2958 NE Glisan, 9 pm, FREE

Kyp Malone will take his solo project Rain Machine to the Doug Fir tonight to perform as well as give every male in attendance a severe case of beard envy. Read all about it here and discover why Malone never smiles for the camera; also find out the origins of the beard.
Oh, and check out the show. Malone will bring his new band and make some beautiful racket... and if you ask nicely maybe he'll let you touch that voluminous beard. But probably not.
Yesterday afternoon, Blitzen Trapper's manager (@TRMW) tweeted this pic of the band at kid's show Yo Gabba Gabba:
Which is pretty awesome. They could even be the house band. Marty especially looks like he fits in.I believe the pic comes courtesy of Ingrid Renan* (@camcam12). Anyway, I can't wait to see the finished episode.
In other rad-Blitzen-Trapper-image news, here's a totally awesome poster created by Methane Studios for their Atlanta show at the Earl.
BT play two homecoming shows at the Doug Fir on October 23 & 24.
*UPDATE: Ingrid is actually Blitzen Trapper's co-manager these days.
"When The World Comes To An End"
How much hocketing (the quickly traded, mono-syllabic vocals) can you take?
Probably the better bit can be found on ?uestlove's Twitter page, where the Projectors do a bit for the Roots backstage. One of the Roots members makes a fantastic observation: that hocketing becomes much more amazing when the listener can realize the real stereo imaging, sitting closely to the different singers in a small room and hearing the lines bouncing between there respective sources.

The IFC (sure, why not?) got first crack at posting this new video for the Shaky Hands' "Already Gone." This stop-motion clip was painstakingly assembled by Seattle filmmaker Clyde Petersen, and seems to touch on some environmental themes (polluting smokestacks, logging) in addition to some sea monster themes as well.
One theme not touched on is the video embedding theme, so here is a link since I can't seem to post the clip here. Oh, the Shakies Let It Die album is out today. Buy it or else a yarn creature will do bad things to you.
So I just got back from two years in Korea, the land of soju, kimchi, and amusing attempts to incorporate English into just about everything.
Well, here's a new one. Female pop group HAM (which stands for Heart and Mind and is represented by a spin on the SPAM logo) recently released a music video that's sure to take over the K-airwaves, which songs often do there in a big way. When a group scores a hit, you'll hear the same song everywhere—in taxis, in buses, in department stores, and coming out of the mouths of the people, especially the kids. I imagine it'll be pretty hilarious to hear children singing a song that sounds like "titty dance, titty dance!"
P.S. The "T.T" emoticon is an Asian person crying.
Hat tip to Brian.

Thanks to the poor play of Santonio Holmes, my fantasy football team (The Dillon Panthers, "Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can't Lose") was defeated in a head-to-head match against a team managed by Mercury freelancer, Hannah Carlen. The punishment for my inept fantasy football skills? A night with the Juggalos.
Actually, it wasn't so bad. The music was horrific, but that night made for some of the greatest/scariest people watching I have ever experienced. But while I pat myself on the back for my faux Juggaloness, Matt O'Brien is the true hero here. The local photographer went deep into the clown's mouth and risked death by Faygo—or stabbing—by setting up a photobooth outside of the Roseland during the Insane Clown Posse set. The results are both hilarious and oddly hypnotic, photo after glorious photo of Portland's thriving Juggalo scene.

...(Mr. Johnston) has never owned any kind of cellphone, let alone an iPhone, and has no telephone at all in his house in a small town northwest of Houston. (To reach him you have to call his father, next door, who summons Mr. Johnston via intercom.)The game — called “Hi, How Are You,” one of Mr. Johnson’s catchphrases — was created by two designers in Austin, Tex., who said they had always been enamored of Mr. Johnston’s music and wanted to find an entertaining way to use it while bringing to life the characters that people his artwork. They have names like Jeremiah the Innocent (who takes the form of, among others, a frog with eyes on stalks) and Joe Boxer (a pugilist missing the top of his head).
The result is a kind of psycho-religious version of Frogger...
Reached at his father’s house recently after he had returned from a concert tour in the Midwest, Mr. Johnston did not seem to remember much about the game or having played it. Asked what he thought of his work serving as the basis for a video game, he sighed and said, “Just another milestone in Daniel Johnston history, I guess.”
But he added that he had come of age when a video game was played with a joystick, on a television screen, usually one encased in a large wooden box with slots for quarters. “If they make it into a real video game, it might work out, I guess,” he said. “I don’t even know what an iPhone is.”
And there you have it.

You might have read about the Telefon Tel Aviv show tonight in My, What a Busy Week!, but here's some info about the opener, the Race: It's the project of Chicago songwriter Craig Klein (pictured above with cuddly cat dog?), aided by Alfredo Nogueira and co-produced by TTA's Josh Eustis. Klein wrote an evocative essay about the making of the Race's new album Exiles. Here's an excerpt:
Exhausted late one night, we tried to find a motel room near Odessa, Texas, and pulled into the only motel we'd seen for hours. Without so much as looking up from her tabloid, the prickly clerk at the front desk said, "Everyone's looking for a room tonight, son. We got all kinds of men: Oil Men, Machinery Men, Construction Men, Company Men and Sorry Suckers like you. There ain't no vacancies. You won't find anyplace short of El Paso."And indeed, the end result is—for lack of any better term—electro-stripper spaghetti-western Old Testament music. Or, as some might deem it, "pop." Take a listen.Damn if that clerk wasn't telling the truth. Hours later and a hundred miles from anywhere, we wound up flat on our backs pulled over and delirious on the westbound side of Highway 10. The annual Perseid meteor showers were on, and we laid there in awe, staring at the stars and listening to Ravi Shankar on the van's stereo at full blast. Under that widescreen sky, the idea for Exiles came about — it'd be a kind of Judeo-gothic-electric-western, melting the acid westerns and road films of the 60s and 70s with some cracked vision of Old Testament-style fire and brimstone.
LISTEN:
The Race - "Ride the High Country"
Telefon Tel Aviv & The Race tonight at Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi, 9 pm, $10

The Castanets played a house party I was at in SE Portland this weekend. It's the third time I've seen the band play this summer; the first was in a fire pit dug out of ground in the forest northwest of town; the second at a club with a bunch of people wearing ugly clothes, looking serious. All three sets have been short, but good.
Last week, Pitchfork got it wrong. In their review of Texas Rose, The Thaw and The Beasts the reviewer goes on for just about 400 positive words before tacking on his bailout. Throughout the review he maintains that the record is great, then ends by saying it "doesn't much travel with the listener beyond its runtime." It read like he either had short-term memory loss or a spine problem.
Listen to "Dance, Dance" and if you can get that final line out of your head in under 24 hours maybe you're not listening hard enough. Stream the entire record for free on Asthmatic Kitty's website.
LISTEN:
The Castanets - "Dance Dance"

Local punk label Dirtnap Records is seeking those interested in a "super part time internship." Not sure if that means a part time internship that just so happens to be super, or one that only requires a few hours of your precious time.
Dirtnap Records, a small, Portland based record label/retail store, needs an intern (or 2!) to help out around the label/shop. General office help, light database work, assembly, mailing, etc etc. Unpaid, but we can probably get you college credit. 6 month commitment, 4-8 hours a week, fairly flexible hours. Knowledge of the current underground DIY punk scene a big fucking plus. Interested? Send resume to mail@dirtnaprecs.com or call 503-736-0909. What have you got to lose, except your dignity?
Agreed. Dignity is overrated.

Keenan is also making noises with his side project Puscifer, which he calls a way to tap into his creative subconscious... well, I'll let the man himself explain:
"I'm a Workaholic with a Napoleon Complex, a Wine Lover, a Musician, and all around Paranoid Conspiracy Theorist. So it should come as no surprise that all of these elements would continually try to seep out into some form of catch all "inside" project. And Puscifer is that project. The space where my Id, Ego, and Anima all come together to exchange cookie recipes. This is a space without any hard edges. It's a space with no clear or discernible goals. CHECK YOUR OVER INFLATED EXPECTATIONS AT THE DOOR. Cuz this is simply a playground for the various voices in my head. Come play with us."
YES SIR! For those who have already checked those over-inflated expectations, you can join Keenan, along with his various voices, at Roseland Theater on November 14th. While it's unlikely I will go play with them, I would really like to try the man's 2004 Cabernet Sauvignon-Syrah blend, Sensei.

At this point, the Flaming Lips might as well just move to Portland.
Following the epic nudity of their video shoot on Mt. Tabor, Jackpot Records will be hosting a free, one time only multimedia screening in honor of the band's new album, Embryonic (out October 13th). The screening will include what they describe as a “cinematic feature,” set to their new album. It’s all goes down at the Bagdad Theater—sorry kids, 21 and over only—on the 12th of October, with the new album becoming available for purchase at the show starting exactly at midnight.
May God have mercy on your soul if you attempt to purchase the record at 11:59 pm.
One of my friends jokingly told me that the Flaming Lips spend $4000 alone on confetti for their shows. This may or may not be true—although my friend is a certified confetti accountant—but regardless, the Lips are know for producing some pretty stunning visuals to compliment their music. The screening is free so get there early to secure a spot.

In this week's paper Cary Clarke discusses the complicated nature of bands changing their name, which is a great read even if all you take from it is the fact that Blitzen Trapper used to be called Garmonbozia.
Garmonbozia!
In addition to the column, we are posting the complete Q&A session with Cary and Starfucker, since the band is currently in the process of dropping their cussin' moniker in favor of one that doesn't get them denied tours and mixed up with another act from Europe of the same name. Enjoy.

I've got to say, everything in Eric Grandy's recent Modest Mouse review proved to be absolutely right on. I reference it because even though I went to last night's sold-out Crystal Ballroom show—the final of four—I was sick as shit.
Really, I spent the whole day in bed. Should not have gone. Good God. And for any of those who may be now suffering of my Swine Flu, I apologize (except for that passive-aggressive dick who stood behind me, poking me with his fingers until I had to talk to him—I hope your eyeballs bleed).
But for all the snot and headache-y shit I suffered throughout the day, while Modest Mouse played, I was able to find comfortable solace. I even felt good.
Like Grandy, I've loved the band for over a decade now (jesus...). And while nothing will touch those days as a raucous three piece, a good part of that free-wheeling spirit prevailed. The band spun out large, extended improvs on a number of songs, most of which excited, except on "Tiny Cities Made Of Ashes" where Brock began improving up front, stripping away all momentum.
I was surprised with the set's depth and reach into the back catalog. A likely impartial list:
Never Ending Math Equation
Baby Blue Sedan
Paper Thin Walls
All Night Diner
Doin' The Cockroach
Night On The Sun
Gravity Rides Everything
Strangely enough—and actually kind of nice—there were no capitulations to recent singles like "Float On," "Satellite Skin," or "Ocean Breathes Salty." (But Jesus, I would've died for "Trucker's Atlas.")
With two drummers and a number of complementary players (six, all told), the band's ability for dynamic improvisation has diminished slightly—it's more of a steam-power chug, towing the original groove rather than really twisting it too radically. This happens with two drummers.
But Issac's free-styling is still just as vibrant as ever. And even if he never really found the greatest additives Wednesday night, he's still just as committed to shaking that tree. At one point Brock hopped down into the audience to continue his caterwauling solo, shouting occasionally into the distorted second mic. It was Brock's catharsis of the evening, one where hundreds of kids (and a few 30-somethings) had their own.
After an extended encore, which ended with a surprising, brooding version of "Parting of the Sensory,"—but only after about 10+ minutes of audience pestering—Brock got a haircut onstage, a fitting end to a long home-stand and the wrapping of a current tour, I suppose. Strange, yes, but Brockian as ever—the kind of thing he'll wonder why about later.
If any readers attended previous shows of the four-night run, I'm very curious what other songs filled out the sets. So by all means, share in the comments section.

This year's nominees include ABBA, the Chantels, the Stooges, Darlene Love, Donna Summer and Laura Nyro as well as the even motlier first-time nominees Genesis (tell me not including the Collins years), Jimmy Cliff, Red Hot Chili Peppers, the Hollies, LL Cool J and KISS... that's KISS. I think the band's been eligible for over a decade—now slovenly KISS Army members can find something else to do besides protesting outside the Hall wearing makeup and cod-pieces.
Love 'em or hate 'em KISS belongs in the Hall of Fame (as does Sonic Youth, The Replacements, Rush... ). Who else is long överdüe? Crüe? Hall & Oates? Slayer?
Although I think whatever chance KISS may have had could go up in a ball of Gene Simmons' flame with the release of this.

Another week, another Mercury music section to read while you burn your Mamas & the Papas records. Oh, not because the whole sleeping with your daughter on a pile of coke thing, but just because John Phillips co-wrote "Kokomo." When compared to that song, everything else that man did doesn't seem all that bad.
Every time my folks visit town, they become obsessed with McMenamins: they eat there, drink there, and even sleep there. It's like catnip for parents. Looks like Deer Tick is the same way, as the Providence band blazes through the all-McMenamins "Great Northwest Music Tour" fueled by pints of Hammerhead.
LISTEN:
Deer Tick - "Easy"
The Accüsed resurrect Martha Splatterhead and celebrate 28 years of punk/metal. Skate or die.
LISTEN:
The Accüsed - "Stomped to Death"
Rain Machine is the solo vessel of TV on the Radio beard farmer/guitarist Kyp Malone. It's political. So, yeah, take that Ashton B. Carter, Undersecretary of Defense for Acquisition, Technology and Logistics.
LISTEN:
Rain Machine - "New Last Name"
Please make a note of it: Daedelus is more an electronic musical genius, than a Victorian dandy. Nice top hat, though.
LISTEN:
Daedelus - "Just Briefly"
Nancy Wilson from Heart chats about her time in Oregon and her key role as "beautiful girl in Corvette" in Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Now, back to my day job at Captain Hook Fish and Chips.
LISTEN:
Heart - "Crazy On You"
Word spread through the Mercury offices like flame through a lip: Wayne Coyne and the rest of his famous band, The Flaming Lips, were up on Mt. Tabor shooting a music video surrounded by naked bicyclers. I ditched my car at the entrance and ran to the top of the park to join other sweaty men in watching movie magic happen.

The video being shot was for the song “Watching the Planets,” which will appear on the Lips’ upcoming album, Embryonic, due out October 13th. I arrived expecting Bacchanal, but the scene was very laid-back. Several groups of bemused picnickers stood on the edge of one of Mt. Tabor's many bike trails, watching Wayne Coyne ride a bubble on a sea of half-naked Portlanders who were growing more and more exuberant. “They want to lose the pants,” I heard the director fret to a crew member, fearing expulsion from the park.

Weird, right? Guess that means he liked the video as much as we did. Although, after what happened at the VMA's, I doubt he expresses this opinion to Taylor Swift.
Some Days are Better than Others is the Portland-filmed debut from director Matt McCormick that just so happens to star Shins' frontman James Mercer and former Sleater-Kinney guitarist, and celebrity blogger, Carrie Brownstein. The trailer goes online this morning, and... what's that? Am I crying? Um, no, I just got some dust in my eye. Yeah, um, dust. Pollen, too.
Shot primarily in Portland and the surrounding areas, Some Days are Better than Others is a poetic, character-driven independent feature film starring James Mercer, Carrie Brownstein, Renee Roman Nose, and David Wodehouse. A charmingly melancholy look at abandonment, Some Days are Better Than Others asks the question, “Why do the good times slip by so fast while the sad times seem so sticky?” The film thematically explores heartbreak, abandonment, and alternative forms of communication while observing an interweaving web of awkward characters who seem to get kicked down by life time and time again. Above all else, Some Days are Better Than Others is a quirky black comedy about the disposable relics of our always-consuming society. It’s a film about growing up, growing old, and holding on to hope while looking for second chances.
No word on when the film will be released (or when my girlish sobs will stop), but we'll keep you updated.
I apologize for the late eulogy, but I just discovered that Trevor Rhone passed away from a sudden heart attack last week. To most people outside of Jamaica, Rhone was never a household name, but he had quite the legacy in his homeland as an iconic playwright and the co-author (along with director Perry Henzell) of one of my favorite films ever, The Harder They Come.
Over a decade before Tony Montana personified hiphop gangster culture in the overrated Scarface, Jimmy Cliff portrayed Ivanhoe Martin, a directionless Kingston musician immersed in poverty and forced into a violent life of crime. The above clip is where Martin delivers his legendary "Don't. Fuck. With. Me." line while slashing away with a blood-soaked blade. It might not be the most dignified piece of dialogue, but it masterfully captures the hopelessness and anger of the title character, and quickly becomes the most haunting scene in this excellent film.

Portland's most buzzed about local act, Explode Into Colors, finally has some music available to the public. Huh, imagine that. The trio will be celebrating the release of their new Kill Rock Stars' seven-inch "Eyes Hands Mouth" with a free/all-ages in-store at Jackpot Records (downtown) this Thursday. In addition to the free show, there will be a dance contest, where the winner will take home a shirt, button (just one button?), and a copy of the seven-inch.
I hope my "standing there with arms crossed" dance takes home the prize.
While the music of Castanets is nothing like that of Japan's Cornelius—the bearded American thing was a dead giveaway—this new video for “On Beginning” (from Texas Rose, The Thaw, & The Beasts, which just so happens to be out today) feels very much like something Cornelius would come up with. It's a gorgeous clip of textural blasts of color and a nice minimalist design aesthetic to accompany the bleak chirps of electronics that pepper the song. I just watched it twice and might go for thirds.
Link: Fader

No, she didn't play "Fade Into You," but that didn't stop former Mazzy Star frontwoman—and "Sometimes Always" Jesus & Mary Chain collaborator—Hope Sandoval from wooing the Doug Fir crowd last night. Our Minh Tran was there to take some snaps and get wooed.

Of all the shows I saw over the weekend, Monotonix and Bad Brains was both the best and worst. Monotonix were incredible, as usual, creating an fully enveloping, sweaty, inclusive, shirtless neighbor hugging experience. It's really more performance art and feeling that they're cultivating than the specifics of music. It's just a shredding, swirly, garbage-tossing, hairy chested, rafter-swinging half-mad love fest. And perhaps most striking of all, it went off in a huge venue (The Roseland) just as well as it did some years ago in the cramped Tube.
Friday, the place was packed, near—if not at—capacity. Monotonix played in the middle of the floor, but their reach seemed to affect even those in the balcony. It was fucking incredible. They rode on drums, crowd surfed, the whole bit.
But as far as Bad Brains went, I want to offer a bit of a retraction (to this). HR was not compelled by the Monotonix chain lightning AT ALL. He was more listless than ever. From my notes:
active distaste and total boredom of HR
He had his hands in his pockets and seemed to be scowling at the crowd. Even his pidly motions like a faux-dance step or clap along seemed sarcastic. It was fucking pathetic. I feel bad for the other Brains, because they seemed to care somewhat, but there's no rising above that kind of scoundrel on the mic.
Just a insipid performance from HR, he might as well have done it sitting down and answered personal phone calls during instrumental breaks. It was really a slap in the face of the audience, and it's hard to think his intentions were anything but.
If HR has reached a point where he doesn't feel these songs anymore, and can't muster up the passion to deliver them while at least appearing to care, he should stop. It's that simple.
Two years ago I wrote that the Bad Brains didn't deserve to be lumped in with the Stooges and Pixies and Queen reunions, as their situation was different. And it may well be for 3/4's of the band (the interview with Daryl Jenifer proved he is a passionate, inspiring man.) But unfortunately, until HR comes around—which at this point seems unlikely—the Bad Brains are not whole, and any continued action appears pointless.
I'm sad this is the way things ended up. But hey, at least we've got Monotonix.