Here's a thought about what your hard-earned entertainment dollar can buy these days...

I went out to Marcus Village Pointe Cinema Friday night to see I Love You, Man and was surprised to find that movie ticket prices have gone up again, to $9. "It just went up this week," the gal behind the counter said. Nine dollars for a 90-minute movie that will be on HBO or Netflix in a few short months seems rather excessive. I mean, this wasn't exactly the kind of film that demands to be seen "on the big screen." And yet, I Love You, Man has earned more than $37 million in two weeks. And yes, it was funny.

Contrast that with the price for seeing, say, Little Brazil at The Waiting Room last Saturday night. For a mere $7 you got to see four touring bands for more than four hours of live entertainment -- with your cash going into the pockets of someone just trying to make a living off of art. Think about it: Live music really is your best value for your entertainment dollar -- it's loud, unpredictable, an interaction with actual human beings, and usually there's booze involved. And if you miss it, you've missed it. There is no replay on HBO or DVD version to rent later. You're living in the moment; and it can be cheaper than a movie.

Anyway... It's not always cheaper. Take tonight's Faint concert at Sokol Auditorium. At $18 per ticket, it's still not sold out -- which seems unheard of for this band. I speculate the reason for the slower ticket sales might have something to do with them having played here within the past six months, and the openers -- UUVVWWZ and Noah's Ark Was a Spaceship -- having played a few times within the last few weeks. Still, a Faint show is always worth the price of admission, and I wouldn't be surprised if this sold out before the first band takes the stage tonight at 8.

Tomorrow: Beep Beep.

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Before I get to the review, a word of thanks to the men of Little Brazil. While on tour, the band visited the Anheuser-Busch beer plant in St. Louis (where, due to their legendary consumption, I'm sure they were treated like returning heroes) and while there, picked me up a piece of valuable memorabilia -- a genuine Rolling Rock bottle opener keychain! Their thoughtfulness was so touching that I, well, teared up at the merch table when Brendan gave it to me. Thank you, gentleman. Your gift will not go to waste.

Now onto the show...

I arrived at around 10:30 and caught the last few moments of Kansas City's The Life and Times -- amazing, I wish I would have gotten their earlier. I can't estimate the crowd size, but can tell you that the show was very likely "sold out." Eagle * Seagull was up next. No fewer than a half-dozen people asked me if I knew what "the deal was" with their new album, the long-awaited The Year of the How-to Book, which we've been hearing about for over a year. The ongoing unconfirmed story has to do with Starbuck's record label Hear Music, but no one knows if it's true since E*S have been exceptionally good at keeping a lid on things. (I was surprised to learn that the label is still functioning, and according to this item at Nashville Scene, plans on releasing a new Elvis Costello album called Secret, Profane & Sugarcane June 2.)

Apparently the band briefly mentioned the new album during their set, but was as elusive as ever. We'll just have to wait and see. Performance-wise, they never sounded better, though I've been hearing most of the "new" songs for nearly two years. Imagine if they actually ever get to release this album -- they'll be stuck having to play those songs for yet another year. God.

Finally it was time for Little Brazil, who tore right into their set that consisted of new stuff off Son and a few older numbers. No, they didn't play the album front-to-back, and they didn't need to. They had a number of special guests join them on stage, including balladeer Adam Hawkins (providing harmony vocals), Oliver Morgan's wife, Megan, on keyboards and Landing on the Moon's John Klemmensen on trumpet. Who wasn't amazed by Landon Hedges' voice? First, he's been on the road for the past few weeks; second, his songs demand serious high-end vocal work. You'd expect him to be at least be a little hoarse, but no, Landon hit every note dead on, as did the rest of the band. You could tell they were happy to be home as much as the crowd was happy to see them (see photo). If you missed the set, the band is playing again a week from this Saturday (April 11) at The Sydney with The Filter Kings.

* * *

Tonight: At The Slowdown Jr., Oui Bandits opens for These United States and Laura Burhenn. $6, 9 p.m. A word of navigational warning: Cuming St. closed today until November, so take I-480 (if you can find an on-ramp) and get off on the 14th St. exit, or just look for the detours. You think it's a pain in your ass? I've got to navigate this mess every day to get to work, so stfu, as they say on Twitter.

Also tonight, It's True is opening for The Tallest Man on Earth and Red Cortez. $8, 9 p.m.

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Homer's head honcho Mike Fratt sent along second-week hard-unit numbers for Cursive's Mama, I'm Swollen: 2,694, enough to place it at No. 200 on the Billboard charts, and for a combined two-week sales total of 8,000 units. So is that good? Says Fratt: "Well, it's no Faint or Conor, but I think that's good for an indie."

He went on to list other sales numbers for comparison:

Vetiver on Subpop has been out since late January, and is at 4,722 total.
The new Buddy & Julie Miller, out three weeks, has sold 7,512 so far.
Heartless Bastards, out since Feb. 3, is at 14,209.
Jason Isbell, out since Feb. 17, is at 8,689 so far.
Black Lips, 2/24, is at 4,684
Matt & Kim, 1/20, is at 8,899
Black Joe Lewis only sold 1,629 in its first week
Razorlight, 3/10, is at 2,787

A few of these numbers surprised me, specifically Black Lips, which is one of the most-hyped bands going these days (certainly at SXSW), and Heartless Bastards (also hyped, but deservingly so). Fratt said Conor's solo disc has exceeded 100k in sales, and that the Faint sold more than 11,000 copies of Fasciinatiion in its first two weeks of release, dwindling to 500 copies a week by the end of August; Fratt thought Fasciinatiion was at around 20k total.

In that context, 8,000 is respectable. It just never ceases to amaze me how CD sales overall have fallen over the past 10 years. Cursive's 5,429 first-week sales landed it at No. 104 on Billboard's chart. Where would that number have placed it on the charts 10 years ago, or even five years ago? Probably nowhere near the top 200...

* * *

Busy week for shows. Very busy. Not SXSW busy, but busy. Here's the skinny:

Tonight at The Slowdown Jr., it's Lincoln punk stars Her Flyaway Manner with fellow Lincolnites UUVVWWZ and Ideal Cleaners. It's a mini Lincoln invasion, and well worth the $7 cover charge. The fun starts at 9 p.m.

Over at O'Leaver's, Bazooka Shootout is playing with Birthday Suits. $5, 9:30 p.m. Meanwhile, down that street at The Barley St. It's True plays with Michael Wunder, Reagan Roeder and Underwater Dream Machine, $5, 9 p.m. The Waiting Room is hosting the Matt Cox CD release show with Filter Kings and Black Squirrels, $8, 9 p.m. Saddle Creek Bar is hosting The Fergusons live recording, with Stephen Monroe and Swapboy Blues. $5, 9 p.m.

The marquee attraction Saturday night is the Little Brazil CD release show with Eagle Seagull, The Life and Times and Noah's Ark Was a Spaceship. $7, 9 p.m. LB is coming off a tour with Ladyfinger and Cursive, so expect them at their well-honed best... or at least fully loaded (if you know what I mean).

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The second photo in the Little Brazil story which I just posted (here) was taken right after the interview, when everyone was three sheets to the wind. After that, I went home and took a nap for a few hours, but was still dragging at Brad Hoshaw's CD release show that night. Not these guys, though; they drink like champions.

Anyway, read the story and find out about Little Brazil's new album, Son (which dropped on Tuesday), and the thinking that went into making it a "concept album." There was some talk about performing the entire album in sequence at the CD release show this Saturday at The Waiting Room, but nothing was definite and I haven't talked to the guys since the interview. We'll see.

* * *

Last night's Ratatat show at The Slowdown sold out some time in the afternoon. Evan Mast said the duo had spent their off time between tours working on visuals for their staging, and the results were impressive -- large, bright LED light bars framed the sides of the stage, lasers glowed overhead and a disturbing video that meshed abstract images with warped pop-culture icons played behind them -- not that anyone was paying attention. They were too busy "throwing their hands in the air like they just don't care," or whatever. The floor was crushed with dancers trying to get into the mid-tempo groove. (See photo).

And if there's a criticism to be levied, it's that their music was too mid-tempo, and at times downright plodding, which was only enhanced by the massive (and typical) bass samples. The performance involved Mast on bass and autoharp and Mike Stroud's whirring electric guitar played over prerecorded samples (drum tracks, synths, etc.). At its best, it was a huge carnival of sound that got the entire audience jumping. Too much, however, was low-energy and ornamental -- motion picture soundtrack music. Their videos were absolutely inspired. One song took the video for Paul Simon's "You Can Call Me Al" -- which also features Chevy Chase -- and warped them into slithering freaks. Another chopped up scenes from Arnold Schwarzenegger's "Predator" to make exploding bodies and buildings dance, while other cuts showed Arnold soaring through the air like a god. The most disturbing image: An Abba video distorted so that the singers' eyes and mouth were turned upside down, creating grotesque masks. Creepy, campy fun.

* * *

The Lepers and The Big Gigantic are at O'Leaver's tonight. $5, 9 p.m. Go.

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In the noise and confusion of SXSW I never got around to posting this interview with Ratatat's Evan Mast (read it here). The focus was on music licensing and how Ratatat has broadened its exposure by having its music used in TV, movies, commercials, etc. They've also broadened their wallets along the way.

Licensing continues to be the new radio. Labels (including Saddle Creek) have personnel specifically dedicated to getting their bands' music into commercials and movies. In the old days, there were those who considered such endeavors as "selling out." Today, with record sales being usurped by downloading and leaks, it's as an economic reality, and a way to survive. Of course you can always go to far, as Of Montreal proved. But like I said in that 2006 column, bands that can't get played on the radio don't have many options when it comes to getting their music heard (or making a living off music).

Anyway, check out the story, then go pick up some tickets for tonight's Ratatat show at The Slowdown. Opening is hip-hop artist Despot and Montreal's Think About Life. $15, 9 p.m.

Also tonight at PS Collective, The Boy Bathing is back. I'm assuming that this followup to last year's MAMF appearance is probably a solo acoustic performance. Opening is Brad Hoshaw, Tim Koehn and Black SmoKers Duo. $5, 8 p.m.

Tomorrow: Little Brazil

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Final thoughts on SXSW: An event that enormous makes Omaha's piddly music scene seem miniscule, almost embarrassingly so. A common theme heard and read this year (and I'm sure was probably heard last year) was that Omaha's heyday was seven years ago. Seven. That's forever from a pop music standpoint. And yet, Omaha had a healthy number of acts performing at SXSW, including Beep Beep, Cursive, Ladyfinger, O+S, Yuppies, Box Elders, and unofficially, Little Brazil (I assume Darren Keen also was playing somewhere (other than with Beep Beep)).

But besides the fact that it was a great time, I'm still not sure what purpose SXSW serves other than as a media junket. New bands aren't getting "discovered," deals aren't being made. Will The Oh Sees, who were my favorite at the festival, emerge from SXSW with heighted exposure, increased record sales and more demand for touring (and consequently, more money)? We'll have to wait and see.

So now I'm back home. I've already submitted my 1,500-word version of my three days of blog entries (Thursday, Friday, Saturday) to The Reader, and the whole thing already is fading like a dream. Will I be back next year? Sure, if I can get another badge from The Reader (and if I have the vacation time available). If so, I'll be booking a room closer to the action -- walking over the Congress Ave. bridge twice a day quickly became a drag, especially at 2 a.m.

To round off the coverage, here are the last two submissions by Chris Aponik, received yesterday:

My Friday at SXSW was taken up by one of the biggest non-SXSW showcases, the In the Red Records show at Beerland. For me, it was packed with bands guaranteed to please my garage-rock heart. Texas' Strange Boys and Seattle's the Intelligence led the way on that showcase. The Boys smash twee, garage, '60s psychedelic rock with nods toward Dylan in their winsome, upbeat songs. Ryan Sambol is the driving factor, as his drowsy drawl is part Bob and part Belle & Sebastian's Stuart Murdoch. Meanwhile, the Intelligence are the garage-punk Devo, turning guitars and keyboards into crisp musical machines. Lars Finberg (also of the A-Frames) sounds more natural than on the band's records, but the syncopated delivery remains. I also caught Christmas Island and Cramps' member Kid Congo Powers at the showcase, with the latter doing songs from his days in the Gun Club and with Lux Interior. Rick Froberg's Obits started the day, proving that he had made a successful leap from the Hot Snakes. Obits is still tightly coiled, but there's more bar-band groove here. Crack Pipes bloozed up the Beerland patio mid-day and the Oh Sees reappeared closing the In the Red show outside as well. Cause Co-Motion! stirred up a good time with its messy indie pop, though they sometimes went too fast and got ahead of the natural pace of a song. I also walked hurriedly through shows by Delta Spirit and the Hold Steady. Both sounded great, but I'll be spending time with the Hold Steady here in Omaha, and I've had a recent enough taste of Delta Spirit to tide me over until I get to see them again.

Addictive: The Intelligence, The Strange Boys, Crack Pipes, Cause Co-Motion!

Memorable: Dappled Cities, Obits, Christmas Island, Kid Congo Powers

Listenable: Mae Shi, Antlers, Young Galaxy

* * *

It was just a brief moment, but in it, Ed Harcourt transcended me and a room full of SXSW attendees in a Convention Center exhibition hall to another place. Chalk that up to the English songwriter's daring decision to place a sprawling, noisy song near the end of his televised set on SXSW's sound stage. That song, "Beneath the Heart of Darkness," is off his 2001 debut. During its seven minutes, it morphed from piano ballad to noisy, Velvet Underground meltdown and back. The version he played Saturday induced chills. I had just seen one of my favorite songwriters do something amazing. Later on, the other half of that sound stage brought a downer, thanks to the power-pop super group Tinted Windows. In the annals of rock artist distractions, joining a super group should be tossed on the list next to going to rehab, having an identity crisis, having a child and attempting to become an actor. Super group is exactly what has befallen Adam Schlesinger, who now has at least another year worth of excuses to deprive me of a new Fountains of Wayne album. Tinted Windows also has Bun E. Carlos, Taylor Hanson and James Iha, who hasn't ever met a super group he didn't like. The results at times are solid power pop, but other times the radio ambition does between Daughtry and mall-emo.

Human Eye bore a weird, wild streak with their oddball lo-fi post-punk. Squealing guitars, spacey keyboards and a bug-eyed singer make for a psychotic, but intensely watchable experience. Gentlemen Jesse and His Men should be promoted to the kings of modern power-pop. They play fast and loud, but with hooks aplenty. The energy is great, the songs are all candy floss and sing-along ready. Magic Kids may give Box Elders a run for best pop band on Goner Records. The Memphis band had three singers melting together over simple, fun '60s pop. This is the Beach Boys on a shoestring budget. Golden Boys tear ass down Texas back roads with their loud, guitar-fueled country-rock blaring.

And finally, a band I out and out hated: Avoid the Death Set so you don't need counseling to forget this cancerously bad band. They start off as Girl Talk, Jr., mash-up artists raping pop music in quick-hit snippets. But then they play mediocre noise punk on top of it. It's colossally stupid.

Addictive: Human Eye, Ed Harcourt, Gentleman Jesse and His Men

Memorable: Sebastien Grainger, Magic Kids, Golden Boys

Listenable: Frustrations, Girls (San Fran.), Jason Lytle, Razorlight, Limes, Razorlight, Ty Segal

Soon to be Forgotten: Abe Vigoda, Tinted Windows,

Please Let it be Forgotten: Death Set

-- Chris Aponik

Nice job, Chris. He and I ran into each other briefly at the Waterloo Park day show. It is funny how many Omahans you run into at SXSW.

Tomorrow: Ratatat.

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Before we took off for the park Saturday morning, we bought grab-and-go breakfast from the little Starbucks-like coffee shop in the lobby and carried it out to a patio that also acts as a smoking area, complete with flat-panel television. While unwrapping my cresc-sandwich, I noticed someone pacing like a caged tiger along the sidewalk, her cell phone and backpack lying on an outdoor table. It was Janean Garofalo, the once-star of movies turned professional left-wing talk show guest. Standing around 4 feet tall and covered in tattoos, Garofalo looked angry and impatient, tracking back and forth behind me while I unwrapped a carrot-cake muffin. This wasn't the first time I'd seen her in Austin. We crossed paths the day before as she marched with her backpack across the Congress Avenue bridge. I guess she was tired of making the hike and was now waiting for someone to pick her up, someone who obviously was late. She stopped her angry march occasionally to stare at the flat-panel, which was showing Fox News. I wondered if that also was why she was seething, and I decided not to say hello fearing that she would lean over my table and try to bite me. We finished our breakfast and left her there, circling and scowling. I wondered what she thought of Ben Stiller these days, her old boyfriend and now a multi-millionaire movie actor married to a model, while she still slummed the comedy circuit and got by with the occasional guest role on "24," a show that ironically airs on the network she despises.

She was quickly forgotten as we began our own forced march toward 6th St. Waterloo Park is a few blocks north of the action near the edge of the U of Texas campus, and rock-throwing distance to the State Capitol Building. The entire park had been incased in chain link fence for SXSW. We made our way inside and found the small "side stage" where Sleepy Sun was playing, then walked over to the much larger main stage, where fewer than 100 onlookers watched Cut Off Your Hands walk through the same set I heard Thursday night. Were they still New Zealand's Tokyo Police Club? They were to me, playing that same style of jump-rock indie music, complete with its earnestly young tone. We left and ate lunch and came back for King Khan and the Shrines. By then, the lower bowl was half full. On stage was the Shrines in matching black shirts and ornamental neckware, preceding Khan, who entered to much fanfare wearing a crown and cloak and accompanied by a cheerleader with pom-poms who danced throughout the set (see photo). The whole thing had a James Brown-by-way-of-Hawaii feel to it that was wasted on a crowd composed of afternoon picnic-ers and hungover hipsters.

Afterward we walked back over to the side stage for Abe Vigoda -- not the actor but the band named after the actor who, judging by their age, probably never heard of Phil Fish or Tessio. The guy playing bass thought he'd throw a few bombs before they lit into their set: "I used to listen to Cursive when i was in 9th grade," he said, apparently miffed that Cursive was playing on the big stage. "Don't get me wrong, Domestica was a great album, and I don't mean that factiously. But that was 9th grade."

Shit talking is an odd way to greet your audience, and can be audacious and ballsy if you can back it up, but Abe Vigoda couldn't. The four-piece played a flaccid set of run-of-the-mill indie rock sung by a guy who couldn't sing. Listen, if you're trying to be punk and can't carry a note, at least try to scream the lyrics so no one notices. Instead, it was typical wonky Modest Mouse-flavored indie rock, poorly played and sung by a band whose only memorable quality was its name. By chance, I ran into Tim Kasher later in the evening and passed along Vigoda's pre-set soliloquy. "Don't worry, we'll get them back," he said. Anyone familiar with Kasher's famous between-song rants knows what he's talking about.

We left halfway through Vigoda's set and caught the tail-end of Cursive. By then, the field was filled and the band had turned their sound into a monster roar, waves of feedback crashed against the trees.

By the time Cursive ended, it was already around 3 o'clock, so we hiked back to the Austin Convention Center where Echo and the Bunnymen were scheduled to play at 5 at "The Bat Bar" -- a made-for-TV lounge that was nothing more than an exhibition hall turned into a sound stage. After waiting in line for an hour, they finally let us in and reminded us over and over that the performance was being televised live on Direct TV -- so "make some noise, you're going to be on TV, too!" Moments later Ian McCulloch stepped on stage with the rest of the band and stood there while we all waited for Matt Pinfield to finish an interview somewhere else. It was strange and awkward. McCulloch tried to pass the time talking about European Cup "football" to an audience that had no idea who Manchester United was, nor cared. Finally, he got the cue and tore into his set. I've never been a big fan of Echo and the Bunnymen. To me, their music was a watered down version of stuff I really liked by bands like Psychedelic Furs and Teardrop Explodes. But McCulloch sounded terrific, not a bit of age showed on his 49-year-old voice. I recognized a couple of the songs, including set closer "Lips Like Sugar." He also played a few new songs that sounded just like the old songs.

We stayed on 6th St. and caught the Oh Sees playing outside at Beerland -- not nearly as good as the Emo's Jr. set from Thursday night -- before heading over to Stubbs to find something to eat and wait for PJ Harvey. This turned out to be an agonizing decision, as the food was bad and so were the bands preceding PJ, including the Razorlight, a British act that wants to go the U2 route but doesn't have the songs for it. They started out strong and quickly became boring. The crowd mulled around just waiting for them to get it over with.

Everywhere people were jockeying for places to sit down, their backs and feet like open sores, dying for some relief but finding none. The crowd shifted from foot to foot just trying to get through the next two hours, while bouncers came by and shooed people off booze loading ramps and camera platforms. We found a spot near a railing where we could at least lean. Down below was a table full of water coolers that had long since gone dry.

PJ came on at 10 sharp, dressed in a white satin outfit with a big white "thing" in her hair -- we were too far away to make out what that "thing" was. She kicked into a set of rather low-key songs off her latest album, which sounded good, but I preferred the old Polly Jean, the one that played electric guitar on 4-Track Demos, instead of this modern version of Annie Lennox.

Next it was off to see Alessi's Ark -- the same Alessi that recorded in Omaha a couple years ago at ARC with Jake Bellows. The venue -- Stephen F's Bar -- was hidden on the second floor of a 7th St. luxury hotel. Inside was all oak paneling and French doors that opened to a balcony that overlooked the flotsam in the street below. Alesssi played a set of acoustic songs with guitar to a crowd of around 50 -- nice stuff.

Finally it was off to punk rock central in the form of Red 7 for Box Elders. I figured it might be my last band of SXSW, why not go out with a bang? There on stage was Dave Goldberg and the McIntyre brothers in their respective get-ups (the too-short shorts, the gold lame smoking jacket) doing their garage band thing to a crowd of 100 punkers and scenesters who got into the vibe. Halfway through the set, Goldberg bit into some sort of capsule that made him drool green foam maddog-style. It was all well received (see photo).

I considered heading over to Emo's for Daniel Johnston and even got as far as getting into the club, but the previous band was still on stage and I figured they wouldn't be done 'til past 1:30. So instead I left to find a brat and was hit again with the Mardi Gras-on-amphetemines atmosphere of 6th St., rowdier than ever, but this time The Man was in full force. Crossing Brazos I ran into a battalion of cops headed somewhere, ready for action. A glance down the street revealed a wall of red and blue strobe lights and mounted police surrounding some sort of melee. Fleets of cops in cruisers flew over Congress Ave. bridge, looking for trouble. A couple kids in a black VW GTO sped by us, one of them standing out of sunroof yelling with glee, just glad to be alive -- then boom -- squad lights, busted. When I passed them walking to the hotel I could see the two kids inside the VW looking scared, digging through their glove box for papers as a second squad car pulled up next to them -- a bad scene, but a suiting way to end three days of rock 'n' roll chaos. Tomorrow, what it all means and was it worth it.

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The goal of my Day Two (yesterday) was to figure out the ins and outs of the so-called "day parties" at SXSW. In the end, I never really figured them out, or I never actually found them. All the performances I had logged into my schedule were at the same clubs where I'd been the night before, with a couple exceptions. The only difference about day parties is that they're absolutely free -- no badge needed for entry. A person could have a good time at SXSW without ever buying a wristband or badge, as the best show of the night for me also was free-entry.

First stop was at noon. We hustled over to Mohawk Patio, an outdoor venue with multi-tier concrete and steel decks that wound around a stage below on the floor (see photo). Stairways led up and up (but only VIPs were allowed to the very top, where someone grilled an assortment of meats; needless to say, we weren't VIPs). It was a hot, burning sun -- nothing to complain about after this past winter -- but still, sunblock was needed, or shade. We watched from the center tier next to a guy who was filming the entire performance. The Wrens sounded no different than the last time I heard them a few years ago, though the group had gotten a bit more gray around the temples. I recognized a few songs off older albums, and so did the crowd, all of whom were busy getting started on a long day of binge drinking thanks to free Pabst tickets handed out to everyone who came through the door.

SXSW is a drinkers' paradise, though I didn't notice many "free beer" events. Ordering soda pop is looked upon as quaint. But despite the heavy alcohol intake, there were few -- if not any -- drunks flopping around... in the daytime. At night, well, that was a different matter. We hung around and watched the first 15 minutes of Bishop Allen -- a real snore -- before heading off to another outdoor venue -- which was little more than a large tent constructed in a parking lot behind a bar on the east end of the strip called Habana Calle Annex 6. I figured Titus Andronicus would be playing outside, but instead they played on the stage inside the tiny bar (see photo). I liked their most recent album enough to place it on my 2008 top-10 list -- it's rowdy and rough and young, with unbridled energy -- and so was the band, bashing away on stage, the frontman sporting the new-hipster unibomber beardo look. It was loud, but forced -- they never got into an angry groove heard or maybe it was just too early for that sort of thing.

It was already approaching 3 p.m. One thing I was dead wrong about in my column: I said there was no way that the venues would stay on schedule. I couldn't have been more wrong. Bands hit their mark timewise at every showcase. There were no exceptions. I assume either the SXSW organizers or the venues are responsible for drilling the schedule into the bands' heads. In fact, three or four times during the day, a band commented on how much time they had left. "Just 8 minutes; I better make this a good one." And so on. Everyone is carrying their own schedules in their hip pockets or saved on their iPhones; and instead of enjoying what they are watching, they're planning three gigs ahead, tracking their path in their minds, trying to figure out how they'll get across 6th St. in time for whatever they want to see. A band running late wasn't going to stop them from heading out when they needed to.

Knowing that we'd be heading back toward the hotel afterward, we figured we'd trek further down the strip. It's here that I decided to break my own rule and go see an Omaha band -- maybe the only Omaha performance of the trip (unless we see Box Elders today). I figured if I'm going to see only one Omaha band, it might as well be Cursive. So we hoofed it west a mile down 4th St. to La Zona Rosa, the newest and most pristine of all the venues and quite a contrast to the usual crap-panel walls or paint-everything-black exterior of most clubs located further east. The place had a stage, sound and lights that rivaled Slowdown's (see photo). It only made sense that Dan Brennan was there to run sound for our homeboys. They played a strange set, heavy with songs from The Ugly Organ and only two or three from the new album, skipping entirely the big closer, "What Have I Done?" instead opting to close with "Dorothy at 40." The huge crowd (400?) ate it up. So how did this out-of-town crowd react to an Omaha band? No different than any typical Cursive crowd at TWR or Sokol or Slowdown. Kasher struggled with his voice, and I wondered how he was going to sound at 1 a.m. that same night at the Saddle Creek Showcase at The Radio Room. But I never found out. Cursive is playing the hell out of SXSW -- a show Thursday, two on Friday and again today out at a park.

After the agony suffered after Day One, I knew I wouldn't make it a full day and full night walking/standing around. After Cursive we headed back to the hotel for a dip in the pool and a nap, which made all the difference. We got rolling again around 7, but discovered that none of the night showcases were starting until 8. Sixth St. was crowded with people looking for food options, and finding very little other than pizza, hot dogs and other street vendor fare. This is the worst food I've eaten on a trip in years.

With few options, we figured we might as well head east across the freeway to see Peter John and Bjorn. Little did we know that we were entering the dirty side of town, at least compared to 6th St. It not only felt like we were in a different city, but a different country and time -- Tijuana circa 1973. Houses like shacks. Dirt lots and rusted fences that surrounded exposed junk yards and auto graveyards. When we got to Fader Fort we found a line that stretched more than a block long. I talked to someone wearing a headset at the front, asking her if there was a badge line. The gig wasn't really part of SXSW, and you had to RSVP to get in. I RSVP'd to a ton of stuff over the past two weeks but couldn't remember if that show was one of them, and I couldn't find out until I made my way through that block-long line that barely moved as every individual had to be looked up in a database on a small white Macbook. No.

We walked up a block to where Mark Mallman would be playing at 9, a place called The Iron Gate Lounge. A shitty haphazard fence had been thrown around the crushed-stone parking lot, a portable stage placed against a retaining wall was covered with one of those portable tents. Two porta Johns were pressed up in the corner. It was seedy but fun (see photo). Up the weather-worn deck steps stood a young mutt with the traditional hippy dewrag tied around its neck that couldn't have been more than 5 months old. The pup was being walked on the lawn next to the house-like bar, where old power-line cable spindles were being used as tables. Pot smoke wafted in the air as people blazed up in lawn chairs on the tiny side lot, right in the open. Back down on the crushed-stone lot someone sold hippie artwork. I glanced behind a barrier curtain and two guys sat in folding stadium chairs picking through through buds, rolling joints. This was the other Austin that no one on Sixth St. would ever see unless they moved here.

Another non-sponsored event - everyone was allowed in -- the crowd looked like it was made up of neighborhood locals. The whole thing felt like O'Leaver's 5-year anniversary block party. And here's where the beauty of SXSW comes in: I had no idea who was playing before Mallman, nor did I care. We figured we might as well just stay there instead of hiking back to Sixth St. As luck would have it, the guy playing first was fellow Minnesotan Jeremy Messersmith, who's self-released album was one of my favorites from last year. With a sideman on electric guitar and a beat-box synth gadget, Messersmith played what wound up being my favorite set of the evening.

Right after him was Mallman with a full band -- quite a contrast to the last time I saw him play (a solo set at the long-gone Johnny Sortinos Pizza joint where Wal-mart now stands and I was the only one in the crowd). With his full band, Mallman became an unbridled madman, hyper beyond words, throwing himself on top of his keyboard, doing leg kicks and tossing his piano stool. It was worth it just for his theatrics -- entertaining, though the music was sloppy and marred by technical problems. I think Mallman was trying too hard for a crowd that was too small to make his efforts worth it.

We left Tijuana and headed back to 6th St., back to Mohawk Patio this time for The Ettes, a poppy punk four-piece with a bubbly female singer who had the buoyancy of Belinda Carlisle before she got old and fat. The Ettes have enough to turn this relatively straight forward punk into something harder, and do. Not a bad band, though none of their songs stood out.

I considered staying at Mohawk for The Hold Steady, who was playing at midnight, but figured I could see them in Omaha soon enough. Outside, a huge mass of humanity crowded the street, trying to get a glimpse of Metallica playing inside -- people stood on top of a nearby parking garage, tossing devil horned salutes down below. I pushed through and headed back to Emo's Jr. for the other most hyped group of the weekend: The Pains of the Pure at Heart. Once inside, it was a crush mob, mostly girls, many who longingly mouthed the words to the songs (see photo). Their music was standard-issue indie with a pop slant that recalled '90s acts like The Trashcan Sinatras. It was well-played, but boring and flat. Very run-of-the-mill, but that won't stop them from riding a hype train all the way to SNL.

I figured I might as well stay for The Black Lips, who I missed at TWR last week. Something was up as their set was running late and there was a lot of back and forth with the sound guy. Finally on came the band with another SXSW surprise -- a guest appearance by what I assumed was a member of the Wu Tang Clan based on how the crowd reacted by throwing up the classic thumb-fingers "W" symbol. I have no idea who it was as I was never into WTC. Needless to say, the guy laid down some lyrics while the Black Lips tried to back him. It didn't work out very well, and the EmCee bossed order throughout the half-hour endeavor, before leaving the stage. After being told to "bring it down" by hip-hop guy so often, the Lips' set was flaccid and half-assed.

It was well past 1 a.m. when I made the long walk back to the hotel. Sixth St. had turned into a drunken bacchanal -- thousands of people stumbling around, yelling, chasing after each other. I expected to see someone carrying around a golden calf. The streets turned from carefree to angry and weird, as huge lines formed behind hotdog carts, people looking for anything to eat to kill their daylong buzz.

* * *

Chris Aponik turns in his report:

Punk band reunion shows are often little more than a desperate money grab by over-the-hill misfits who no longer give a shit. But that ain't Keith Morris. Circle Jerks owned Beerland with an hour-plus set that transported the churning, sweaty crowd back in time. What's more is the band was totally into it as well, with Morris telling stories, ranting and pouring out an impassioned vocal performance. He kept the crowd vibe right, going as far to lecture one unruly member about the message of one of the band's songs. Sure, the Circle Jerks are a seminal hardcore progenitor, but last night's set at Beerland was seminal as well.

Other standouts included TV Ghost, a no-wave basement punk act that throbs with mechanical menace. Their singer shouts his lines as if giving an incantation. Blank Dogs created an insular punk-pop with vocals processed into some echoing '50s alien sci-fi effect. Sam Roberts Band won me over with power-pop that also nodded to the Stones, while Mark Sultan (aka BBQ) knows his way around doo-wop stylings. Tim Easton impressed by finally re-embracing a rock band to put a live wire under his alt.country folk stylings.

Meanwhile, Crystal Stilts proved not up to the buzz, as their indie-pop flirts with post-punk atmosphere. Sometimes it clicks, but mostly it seems stuck in indecision. The Living Things don't have any trouble deciding however. The major label rock act rocks with a capital "R." They are the Makers with a brasher, glammier sound. Turn off your mind or you'll just be turned off.

Today, I just don't know. I'm definitely hitting up the unofficial In the Red Records showcase at Beerland. I've already had Tamale House breakfast tacos, so I'm ready to roll.

Addictive: Tim Easton, TV Ghost,
Memorable: Sam Roberts Band, Blank Dogs, No Age, Red Red Meat, Mark Sultan, Crystal Stilts, Greg Ashley Band
Listenable:Army Navy, Living Things, Two Hours Traffic, Naked on the Verge, Baptist Generals, Nite Jewel, Ancestors -- Chris Aponik

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

Everything I said in my column about SXSW was true. All true. The good and the bad. It really is a nirvana for "new music" lovers, a paradise, a shrine to what's happening now in music -- be it good and new and original, or regressive, derivative, boring. You'll hear it all here, along a stretch of road that runs a mile beside a dark, flat river surrounded by hotels and restaurants and new condominium construction. On the streets, in the restaurants, in mezzanines, alongside the locked doors of banks and office buildings, on the stairs alongside rows and rows of garbage scows, besides a Jimmy Johns, in clothing stores, outside of convenient marts where the local downtowners stop in to buy a pack of smokes and a $3 vending-machine-quality sandwich wishing it would all go away. You'll get a chance to see every band that's been written about in Magnet and Pitchfork three or four times over the course of the week. If you missed them at 1 a.m. at Emo's don't worry, they're probably playing tomorrow afternoon at the Urban Outfitters or in a tent at a day-party booze-and-brats give-away.

We got in at 5. Our hotel -- located on the opposite side of the river -- is only a $20 cab ride from the airport. We walked to the Convention Center about a half-mile away to get our "credentials" -- a large laminated badge with my photo and an imbedded metallic device that acts as a keyfob that magically gets you into all the shows in all the clubs for the duration of the festival. So efficient was our arrival, we had time to catch a full evening of shows. I checked my list and figured why not try Peter Murphy at Elysium? After all, it was only a couple blocks away.

There's a sense of disorientation upon reaching 6th St., the same blind chaos of Bourbon St. during Mardi Gras. The street is blocked off and every venue is hosting something, but what? After a few minutes you realize that no one else seems to know, either. The reason this festival works is because people aren't assholes -- more people came up to me yesterday asking for directions or advice about bands than any time I can remember, maybe because I look like an undercover cop or a club bouncer or someone's dad. Certainly not because I look like a local. This would never work in NYC. Everyone's friendly, maybe because it's 82 degrees and sunny, and those of us who flew or drove in from northern climes -- having suffered through five months of bone-aching cold -- are so desperately happy to be able to casually walk around in a T-shirt and shorts and flip-flops.

We made our way down Red River St. to Elysium and ran into an enormous crowd that turned out to be the 7 p.m. "hold out line" for Peter Murphy, though no one was sure if, in fact, it was a line at all. More of a mob/crowd situation. After waiting for about 20 minutes, the guy behind me said "Dude, you got a badge. You should wait in the 'badge line.'" I was in the non-badge line. In fact every venue has two lines, one for people with badges, one for those with wristbands or nothing. We moved to the other line, but it didn't really matter. After waiting for 30 minutes, and almost giving up, the cattle began to move. Elysium is billed as a "dance club," but it's not much different than, say, The Waiting Room -- a large venue with a decent stage and a side room with pool tables and pinball machines.. Murphy already was on stage performing when we got in. I remembered interviewing him years ago -- one of the toughest interviews I've ever done because of his thick cockney accent -- I didn't understand half of what he said. Murphy speaks quickly and mumbles. I recognized that London mumble telling stories on stage between songs, but I couldn't decipher a single word. Musically, Murphy sounds as good as ever (solo-wise anyway). He's still in good voice -- that same old deep warble that slides upward into a David Bowie impersonation. "He looks old," said a gothy-looking girl standing beside me, and he did. His hair has thinned and he's starting to comb-over a bald spot, his skin looked drawn and grey, his eyes deeper set, but he still had whatever it is that made him famous in the '80s.

We lasted about 20 minutes before we'd had enough. I wanted to get across the street to what's known as "Emo's Annex" -- nothing more than a tent set up across the street from the actual Emo's. I had called Aponik in a panic while waiting for Murphy asking, "Is it going to be like this everywhere? Super long lines?" He assured me that it wasn't and he was right. There was no line for Micachu -- a young UK lady/guy who plays what looks like is either a tiny guitar or a big ukulele, pounding out arch, dissonant pop songs sung in an angry chirp. Her music will either entice you or drive you away. I loved it. Teresa was confused by it. The crowd of around 75 seemed interested but not terribly drawn in.

We left and got a slice of pizza from one of the countless pizza windows located about every 40 yards down the street. Everyone's eating pizza, probably because that's all you notice on the street. Pizza is quick and easy. No one wants to sit down for a normal meal. I wanted to catch The Warlocks, but somehow misread my pocket guide and wound up at Stubbs, an enormous outdoor venue located behind a famous barbecue joint. The stage was large, topped by a huge tent-like canopy.The feature attraction -- The Meat Puppets. I've never been a fan of the band, though like everyone else in America, I enjoyed their guest spot during Nirvana's MTV Unplugged gig. It was so loud that I wondered what the diners were hearing inside the restaurant while they crushed their ribs. Meat Puppets sounded pretty dead-on in front of a crowd of at least 500, maybe more. Teresa thought they sounded Brookes and Dunn. I thought they sounded like gritty swamp rock.

It was 10 when we left and Teresa had had enough and I was beginning to fade after too many Shiners. Sixth St. had turned into a drunk noise carnival, exactly as you would imagine it -- noise (mostly drums) echoing out of every venue. Street crazies and people on bicycles mixed in with the badge-wearing crowd and locals trying to get into free shows. Everywhere, all the time, an ambulance was either parked in front of a venue -- cherries ablaze -- or rushing through an intersection. Odd. Despite cops at every corner, I walked Teresa back to Congress and headed over to Emo's where I spent the rest of the evening. Like Slowdown (but really, not like Slowdown at all) Emo's has a main stage and "Emo's Jr." The diff from Slowdown is that both go at the same time, divided by an outdoor passageway that makes up most of Emo's excess capacity. I wasn't sure what I was watching and then found an order sheet taped to the wall. On stage was Wild Light from Manchester, NH, a commercial-sounding indie band that reminded me of shit like Dexy's Midnight Runners (for no reason, really). Meanwhile, over at Emo's Jr., The Homosexuals were doing their thing. Formed in 1972 as The Rejects, the trio is the read deal, like a slice of Brittany when the barricades were still in the streets, and they looked like they lived through it.

Back in at Emo's was Cut Off Your Hands, who I originally was drawn in to see. They played in Omaha just a few weeks ago and I missed them. High energy indie rock from New Zealand that sounded like a rougher version of Tokyo Police Club. I mentioned this to Robb Nansel afterward and he gave me a look like I was nuts. The best was last. Thee Oh Sees from San Francisco -- amazing garage rock to the extreme. The lead guy, looking like a young (short) Marty Sheen straight out of Badlands, is magnetic on stage -- the best garage rock I've heard in years, covered in reverb and noise. Easily the best band I heard on my Day One, or maybe it was the Shiner talking. There was talk of a secret Jane's Addiction set at a local Playboy Club, which I'd heard about before I left. Nansel was going, but I was dead tired.

By the time I got back to the hotel at around 1, my back felt like it'd been crushed in a vice from standing up for five hours after spending five hours smashed in a jet. Pure agony. The part about SXSW having nowhere to sit down is true, so is the part about doing lots of walking. I will need a vacation from this vacation by Sunday. Today I try to find the day parties on foot.

No Aponik comments. What happened, Chris? Too much partying? The only Omahan I've seen so far is Nansel, though I've been in touch via IM with a number of people. Stay tuned.

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

I'm headed to the airport. Don't let this be the last thing I ever write (if you know what I mean). Chris Aponik sends his Day One comments, below. Chris is known more as a garage band guy (his love of Brimstone Howl is legendary), but you wouldn't know it judging from the bands he saw yesterday, many of which I'll (hopefully) be seeing this week. Unlike Chris, I've done little planning or RSVP-ing. I hope it doesn't end up biting me in the ass.

Day One in Austin is in the books and it seems destined to be the lightest of the four main days of SXSW. Still, I was able to knock three must-see acts off my list. Only one of them disappointed.

It was a day of running around and quickly remembering how to get places. The best way to do SXSW seems to let the day show schedule fall into place on the fly, as you zip up and down Sixth Street. The night shows I try to plan a little more, charting out the most desirable options and making sure I'm not passing on anything I'll not have another chance to see.

Even before Wednesday kicked off, I had spent some time in a downtown club. That Tuesday night show featured a horde of San Francisco SXSW bands and Detroit's Tyvek. The stand-out was the Oh Sees, the current project of Coachwhips mastermind John Dwyer. It's still a lo-fi affair, but there's a tighter, matured pop craftmanship going into the Oh Sees than any of Dwyer's past projects. But Dwyer still moves like a madman and keeps the pace quick. The Fresh & Only brought a different rock 'n' roll experience with a Southern-sounding heap of guitar rock.

Wednesday brought surprises both in surpassed expectations and slight disappointments. Credit Wavves, Pains of Being Pure at Heart and the Heartless Bastards for bringing more to the table than what was asked. Heartless Bastards soared on the backs on their newest album The Mountain. Those songs, delivered by a cohesive, energetic band, gave singer Erika Wennerstrom a chance to send out spinal cord chills down backs. It's when her simple songs melded blues rock muscle to her inner alt.country chanteuse that made the set. One quibble: the band's older material stills hews close to forgettable blues bar band territory.

Wavves succeeded with just the right sense of how to mess up a good pop song. The two-piece band ably writes updated slices of surf rock and '60s pop, but it's when you hear just how beautifully they sit inside the band's bowl of lo-fi garage racket that really amazes. Pains of Being Pure at Heart's achievement isn't as surprising, but it's certainly stuck in my head. The Brooklyn dream-pop revivalists made a strong case for not being written off as a shoegaze tribute. That's because there's an indelible, unforgettable quality about the band's simple, fuzzy pop songs, especially with the singer's twee vocal delivery.

Unfortunately, Black Joe Lewis and the Honeybears bore the disappointment label. Lewis' two recent Lost Highway releases reveal a new player on the retro soul/funk scene. The cleanliness of those recordings carry over, with a sound that goes for replication instead of reinvention. The only thing different from those old soul singers is that Lewis saddles himself with guitar playing, when he should be sweating like James Brown.

All in all, it was a busy day with a few bands getting left in my dust after a few songs. Here's the final tally.

Addictive: Oh Sees, Heartless Bastards, Wavves, Pains of Being Pure at Heart
Memorable: Fresh & Onlys, Tyvek, Psychedelic Horseshit, Dikes of Holland, Phenomenal Handclap Band, Thomas Function, Vetiver
Listenable: Anathallo, Greg Laswell, Port O'Brien, Black Joe Lewis, Cut Off Your Hands, Peter Bjorn & John
Soon to be Forgotten: Maus Haus, Laryatta, Loney Dear, Themselves, Fol-chen, Porcelain, Young Love, Lovely Sparrows

See you in Austin.

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

I know I'm overloading you with Cursive data, but Mike Fratt at Homer's passed along that Mama, I'm Swollen sold 5,429 physical copies nationally its first week, which is good enough to put it at No. 104 on the Billboard Top-200. Nice.

* * *

Bright Eyes is tonight at The Waiting Room. I will not be in attendance as I wasn't one of the lucky ones to score a ticket in the 23 minutes that they were available before selling out. Will this "reunion" actually be a swan song for Bright Eyes? My guess is yes, it will be, but only for the time being. Conor goes out with the Mystic Valley Band for part of this year, and then has the M. Ward/Jim James/M. Mogis album after that. If I had to venture a guess, I'd say he'll pull together Bright Eyes whenever the mood strikes him or the stars align for everyone involved. That said, who knows when that will be again or what he'll say at tonight's show.

* * *

Tomorrow I leave for SXSW, arriving in time to take in the Thursday night schedule. Look for updates on a daily basis right here. For "real-time" data, follow me on Twitter (twitter.com/tim_mcmahan) or on Facebook. That said, here's my pre-trip perspective:

Column 214: South by South Wasted
Austin or bust.

I have seen the future of rock and roll, and it's _______.

That's why someone like me goes to the South by Southwest Music Festival in Austin. Right? To discover tomorrow's Next Big Thing, the band that we'll all be talking about the following year, the one that will blow the lid off the Mercury Lounge next September when Bowie and Lou "just show up" with guitars and microphone and jam alongside them, the band that played here in Omaha last year to 50 people that we now know will never be back. The next Arcade Fire. The next Interpol. The next Animal Collective. The next Bright Eyes.

I've been watching SXSW from the sidelines for years, never dreaming of actually attending. The lead-up to mid-March always has been the same: "You goin'? You're not? Dude, you're really missing out, especially you. It's a four-day fucking party, man, and you never know what's going to happen or who's going to show up. Dude, seriously, you need to go next year." And so on.

There's nothing more annoying than hearing how great someone's vacation was, especially when they just got back from Antigua in the middle of January. No one really wants to see the pictures. No one really cares, because we're stuck here, in this icebox called Omaha, and Antigua might as well be the surface of the moon. The same holds true for SXSW. Returning festival attendees go on and on about how so-and-so destroyed Emo's or El Sol y La Luna or The Speakeasy. About how they drank themselves blind and greeted the sunrise with breakfast burritos at this little place off Red River St. And the whole time that they're telling you this, you just want to punch them in the throat because you know you'll never be able to get off work, never have enough cash, never get a "Gold Badge," never get to go.

Well, I'm going this year for the first time. As you read this on Thursday or Friday or Saturday, I'm most likely crouched over somewhere on 6th St. in Austin suffering from a hang-over, confused, looking for a place to take a piss, wondering where I'm supposed to go next. As soon as I figured out a way to get there, I backtracked to everyone who had gone before -- but who aren't going this year -- and got the same story: "You going? Really? Man, be prepared for the lines and the hassle and the heat. Austin's weird because there's really nowhere to sit down anywhere. You'll be standing up for three days straight. Those laminates they give you, man, they're worthless. Forget about getting in to see any band that you really want to see. And if you do get in, the sound system in every bar sucks. You're better off just waiting to see those same bands when they come through town. Good luck, you're going to need it." And so on.

I'm told that there's no reason to put together a schedule or list of bands prior to flying out because the odds that any of the clubs will keep to the schedule -- or that I'll actually be able to make my way through the line in time -- are next to nil. On the surface -- and based on my own research -- I tend to believe this, but that's not stopping me from pulling together a half-assed schedule anyway, so that I'll at least have a few stars to navigate by as I try to make sense of it all. (You can see my half-assed schedule online, here: http://sxsw2009.sched.org/lazyi_omaha).

I did figure out one thing a long time ago -- I'm not flying to Austin to see the same handful of bands that play in Omaha once a month. Every year I talk to someone who went to SXSW and spent the whole time running from venue to venue to see Omaha bands. Why see Ladyfinger when they just played at O'Leaver's a week ago? The answer: "Because we really want to see how they go over with an impartial crowd." It's like rooting for the home team, but in the end, no one cares how well anyone goes over. Every band at SXSW has been signed to a label, in most cases for years. Their "big break" came long before they ever got invited to play the festival. And the only reason they came this year was because their label is hosting a showcase and told them they should.

Every band I've talked to who has played SXSW has bitched about it, placing it among the worst tour experiences of their lives because there's nowhere to park their van, getting equipment into the club is an insane hassle, and once they do get their gear set up they can't leave for fear of not getting back in -- even though they're in the band.

But that's not my problem, is it. For me, SXSW is a spring break, a chance to burn up some carryover vacation time and check out the madness from inside the belly of the beast. My plan is to arrive Thursday afternoon, taxi over to the Hyatt and drop my bags, then stroll over to 6th Street just across the river and let fate guide me in the right direction.

The whole time I'll be taking notes, snapping pictures, Twittering (twitter.com/tim_mcmahan), updating my blog (lazy-i.com), and putting together notes Hunter S. Thompson-style, scribbled on napkins, recorded into my iPhone, for a story in next week's issue of The Reader. And nothing is going to stop me from having a good time.

If I discover the future of rock and roll, I'll let you know.

If my own perspective wasn't enough SXSW coverage, fellow Reader reporter Chris Aponik is in Austin as well and will be contributing his personal take on the festival as a Lazy-i exclusive. His "final report" will be published in The Omaha City Weekly. Chris left for Austin either today or yesterday. Here's his pre-launch musings:

I've not even set foot in Texas and I already feel fatigued. There's just no possible way I'm going to see all I want to see by week's end. I've barely been able to wrap my mind around what I want to see. But I am armed and ready. I've logged in all the official showcases I want to check out and I've put in RSVP's for just about every semi-private day show I could find. Now I just need to will myself to look through and whittle my list down to what I must absolutely see. That basically makes it a list of people that might soon be dead and people that won't be caught dead playing in Nebraska in 2009.

So here's my must-see list:
Heartless Bastards
Hymns
TV Ghost
No Age
Sam Roberts Band
Crystal Stilts
King Khan and the Shrines
The Wrens
Primal Scream
Ed Harcourt
Mika Miko
Red Red Meat
Human Eye
The Intelligence
Cause Co-Motion!
Tim Easton
The Drones
Black Joe Lewis
Blank Dogs
Echo and the Bunnymen
Andre Williams
Golden Boys

Chris also will be posting video updates at www.youtube.com/user/niteclubjitters.

Hold onto your hats, we're in for a bumpy ride... to Austin.

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

First, an update on yesterday's blog entry regarding Cursive. A number of people wrote in asking what happened to Cornbread Compton, Cursive's drummer who didn't appear with the rest of the band for last Friday night's performance on Late Night with David Letterman. Jason Kulbel of Saddle Creek Records wrote to explain that Cornbread had "work related things that prevented him from being able to tour."

Moving on...

I used to head to The Dubliner on St. Patrick's Day. But with SXSW just a couple days away, I'll be lying low this year, perhaps only dropping in at Burke's Pub for a pint of Guinness. There's a ton happening tonight in Benson -- a.k.a. Little Ireland. Over at The Waiting Room those Irish lads known as The Black Lips are playing a show with Gentleman Jesse And His Men, and Brimstone Howl. $12, 9 p.m. Meanwhile, down at The Barley St. Tavern, Brad (the Bard of Killarney) Hoshaw is hosting a party with performances by himself, Kyle Harvey, Adam Hawkins and Matt Cox, all for $5.

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

First, Cursive on Letterman Friday night: Probably the best live network performance by a local band so far, and there have been a few (Bright Eyes, Mystic Valley, The Faint, Tilly). Kasher's voice never sounded better, and the band was on point (They even got help from a few members of the CBS Orchestra). But the best part was that the CBS studio actually sounded good for a change. The band even looked like they got dressed up for the occasion -- jackets and ties, as if headed to a First Communion brunch. Eagle-eyed fans may have noticed that the guy behind the drumkit wasn't Cornbread Compton. Jason Kulbel at Saddle Creek tells me it was Cully Symington (Zykos, 1986). With the last chords of "From the Hip," Dave bounded from the stage and asked, "Where you from?" "Omaha, Nebraska," said Matt Maginn. "Omaha Nebraska? I'll be damned. Nice job." Dave said, pumping Matt's hand and looking genuinely impressed. In case you missed it, here's the performance YouTube.

* * *

Darren Keen went "all in" in a "Full Monty" sort of way at The Show Is the Rainbow CD release show Saturday night at The Waiting Room. Halfway through the second-to-last song, Darren dropped trow while performing from inside the crowd. He eventually climbed back on stage au natural and grabbed a guitar, and then slid his jeans back on for an encore. His "full disclosure" had the audience of around 200 in a state of shock and awe and ew. As funny as it was, Darren's glistening buttocks may actually have taken away from the performance, not because it offended anyone, but because it's the only thing those on hand will be talking about Monday morning, instead of what they should be talking about: His music. Ironically, halfway through his set I was thinking how he'd proven all the naysayers wrong, those who had lazily compared his past performances to a Har Mar Superstar freak show. There was no shtick to this set -- just Darren, his samples, electric guitar and voice, along with his high energy stage -- and floor -- antics. The songs from Wet Fist got some added oomph from TWR's huge low end, and had Keen had the necessary lighting and strobes, he could have had that crowd dancing like it was a Faint concert. But in the end, the only thing anyone will remember is his "set" within his set. Ah well, it was fun, but afterward I wondered if Darren planned on "dropping his tool belt" at every show on tour. Not likely. He doesn't want to pull a Jim Morrison and end up scrounging for bail money in a southern town that doesn't take that sort of thing lightly. Keen will be hard-pressed as it is to play both a TSITR and a Beep Beep set every night for the next few weeks. It's an enormous challenge that will leave him either in a hospital suffering from exhaustion or America's next big thing, or both.

Speaking of next big things, Lincoln's UUVVWWZ opened the show with its usual panache. Teal Gardner is our Debbie Harry, our Karen O. Mesmerizing in her own way, could anyone be more relaxed on stage and still bring it the way she does? Funniest part of the set: When the bass player's guitar strap became unstuck. "Anyone got any duct tape?" he asked from stage. In the end, the soundman came through with a jumbo roll.

* * *

Tonight at The Waiting Room, it's the post-Afrobeat stylings of NOMO, along with dance giants Satchel Grande. $10, 9 p.m. Also tonight, Tokyo Police Club plays at The Slowdown with Ra Ra Riot and Ruby Coast. $15, 9 p.m.

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

In commemoration of Cursive's appearance tonight on Late Night with David Letterman, here's one of the more scathing reviews so far for Mama, I'm Swollen from the Johns Hopkins News-Letter. The publication managed to find another critic who liked Happy Hollow, but then used it to call the new album "a bit of a back-pedal," with "less of the sheer catchiness that makes your average Fall Out Boy rip-off so shamefully entertaining." Uh-Oh. The Fall Out Boy reference is all you need to predict the rest of he review, which later references the Von Bondies. I'm not criticizing the reviewer or the review -- it's well written, though I don't agree with her comments or her perspective. The most killing line: "These guys (Tim Kasher, Matt Maginn, Ted Stevens and Cornbread Compton) are upwards of 30 and it seems about time for them to step back from opening veins all over the pages of their own diaries." Ouch. If Kasher isn't supposed to write about his life, than what is he supposed to write about?

* * *

So, for everyone who wasn't in on the joke, Das Tango Boyz is/was Beep Beep doing a secret warm-up show at The Barley St. last night. The tip-off might have been that Pharmacy Spirits was opening and DTB was the "headliner." Pharmacy Spirits' James Reilly is now in Beep Beep, "replacing" Chris Hughes, who quit the band last year.

Pharmacy Spirits was my favorite band of the evening. A Lincoln 4-piece that features Reilly in the frontman role (looking like a younger, trimmer (taller?) version of Greg Dulli), they play college music (not indie, not punk, just college) the way I remember it and the way I love it. Each song carried a mesmerizing, throbbing, trance-inducing moment -- usually toward the end -- where all four got into a perfect rhythmic groove. At the heart of the matter is drummer Courtney Nore -- she's got a bracingly clean, uncluttered style, and I couldn't keep my eyes off of her the entire set (yeah, I know, it sounds creepy). Sometimes I was reminded of Poster Children and The Pixies, and a couple times early in the set Reilly sang like a young Tim Kasher, but ultimately Pharmacy Spirits brings a modern touch to a college sound that thrived before the onset of all these retro, beirdo indie bands. And on top of that, they're light-hearted enough to put their stamp on the Tommy James & the Shondells song (covered by Tiffany) "I Think We're Alone Now." Nice.

Oui Bandits were next and started by launching into two new songs not on their latest album, both of which were better than anything on their latest album (which is pretty darn good, btw). Their new material is more streamlined and straight-forward than the stuff on the record, and since I'm a sucker for a good melody, I loved it.

Finally, at around a quarter to 1, on came Das Tango Boyz playing what co-founder Eric Bemberger called "a Beep Beep practice set." And by god, that's exactly how it sounded. Once on stage, it took about 10 minutes for the band to sort out its instruments and technology before prying into the first of a set of 7 or 8 acidic, proggy, post-punk songs. Reilly appears to be filling the spot vacated by Hughes, but seemed a bit tentative and unsure at the microphone (compared to his Pharmacy Spirits set). And who can blame him? This is complicated music with vocals that intentionally sound like a man struggling with his own voice. But here's the thing about the new Beep Beep album -- half of it is the usual proggy noise assaults that you'd expect, and half sounds like moody, slow-stroll Fleetwood Mac FM rock -- a real departure from their last record. So the first thing I wondered was whether they were going to play some of the more laidback, more melodic and less proggy stuff like the rollicking "Return to Me," the late-night stroller "The Lion's Mouth," and the piano-sax-driven "Wooden Nickels." The answer was no. Instead, it was 20 minutes of post-punk Beep Beep freak-out, with a couple songs on the end that turned into stone jams, anchored by a drummer wearing a bee costume, and the always entertaining Darren Keen on bass. So, a bit rough, but fun. It'll be interesting to hear how they sound when they come back through town in April at The Waiting Room.

Speaking of Darren Keen, Saturday night at The Waiting Room is The Show Is the Rainbow CD release party for Wet Fists, the best album that Keen has ever created and the one that is going to place him in front of a larger national audience. Keen's evolution into a singer-songwriter could be heard on his solo album that came out a few months ago. Melody has become the center of his music instead of just beats and irony. Don't believe me? Check out moody instrumental "Wordless Whisper," which is followed by funk-town dance number "Mother and Son," which ranks up there with anything The Faint has been doing lately. This is one of the funnest records I've listened to in quite a while. Buy it at the show Saturday. Opening is Lincoln post-punk faves UUVVWWZ and one other band that Keen told me last night is a Stoner-rock-lovers dream.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Here's how the weekend is looking, starting with tonight:

At O'Leaver's it's the hard stuff with The Stay Awake and Perry H Matthews. $5, 9:30 p.m.

Benson has Fortnight playing at PS Collective with John the Savage and Dane. 9 p.m. $5; while over at The Barley St. She Swings She Sways plays with Jason Walsmith, Turtle Moon and Sean Haupt. $5, 9 p.m.

Over at The Saddle Creek Bar it's The Reddmen, Lucky Losers, Eastern Turkish and Angry Eyebrows. $5, 9 p.m.

Where will I be tonight? With Teresa watching a fashion show featuring Project Runway winner Jeffrey down at The Slowdown.

Tomorrow night, as I mentioned, it's The Show is the Rainbow CD release show at TWR. $7, 9 p.m. O'Leaver's has another heavy night featuring Techlepathy, Ideal Cleaners and Dean Armband. $5, 9:30 p.m. And John Klemmensen has his CD release show at The Barley St. with Bright Light Fever. $5, 9 p.m.

Let's not forget Sunday-- Bloodcow, The Dinks, 20 Dollar Love and The Black Hand are at The Waiting Room, all for a mere $5.

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

I learned a few things reading this Seattle Spectator interview with Orenda Fink, written in support of a Seattle O+S show. Among the story's revelations (which are probably old news to those closer to the action): Orenda and Todd Fink now live in Los Angeles; Art in Manila are officially over, and there may be a new Azure Ray album sometime in the future. "I think what I'd like to do is have O+S, and I think I'm going to have other solo records as well," Fink said in the article. "And there will hopefully be another Azure Ray record too … but I'm going to stop changing my name."

I'm listening to the new O+S album as I type this. Although its billed as a loop-heavy pairing of Fink with Scalpelist, aka Cedric LeMoyne (Remy Zero), the recording doesn't stray too far from Orenda's other recordings, and actually seems slower and more downcast than either her solo or Manila stuff. In fact, it's the closest thing to Azure Ray I've heard since Azure Ray, albeit moodier and more atmospheric. The new record drops March 24. This new collaboration is pretty cool, but here's one I'd love to see: A full-length collaboration between Orenda and Todd -- and I don't mean the kind that walks and talks, though that would be pretty cute as well.

* * *

This week's column is a recast of last week's blog entry regarding bands playing gigs for free. Among the changes: no mention of Harlan Ellison, and a different ending. Other than that, it's pretty much the same. That blog entry has generated plenty of chatter on the Webboard.

Column 213: Playing for Free
What's it worth to you?

Late last week I wrote an entry on my blog about bands playing shows for free. The touchstone was the benefit concert for the Young Professionals Council held at Slowdown. I assumed it was a benefit, since none of the bands that performed were paid even though just about everyone else involved -- the Slowdown and its employees, the door guy, the sound guy, the vendors that sold the liquor to Slowdown, OPPD who's supplying the power, heck everyone who played a role in the program -- got paid. Just not the bands.

And whose fault was that? Why, it was the bands' fault, of course. They accepted the gig believing that they'd make money on merch sales and would gain exposure. My take: It's a free country. If you're in a band and you want to play gigs for free when everyone else is getting a paycheck, well then by god you should. Certainly accepting those kinds of gigs helps define you and your band -- just maybe not the way you want to be defined.

Who doesn't want to help out a charity that they believe in? I've even kicked around the idea of organizing a charity concert for the Nebraska Humane Society, which I'm told is struggling these days. And what band doesn't want to open a show for one of their favorite touring bands coming through town? They may not get a red cent for doing it, but it's an honor and it's fun. And yeah, there are those bands that "just want to play" and have no interest in making money. We all have our hobbies.

Serious bands (not hobbyists) seem to fall into four categories when it comes to non-paying gigs:

First there are the new bands that just want to build a following. In their minds, any chance they can get to be on stage is an opportunity. Sure, they should get paid, but their anonymity -- and their lack of drawing power -- puts them in a weaker position then, say, bands at the next level -- the ones that know what they're worth, and quite frankly, so do most of the venues in town who know better than to ask them to play for free (except under certain circumstances, like real benefits or opening for a band that they love for a show that could tank).

Then there's the superstars, which really only applies to a few bands around here. I'm talking about the bands that everyone thinks are making millions -- whether they are or not. Charities might approach these guys to play a gig for free thinking the band has so much cash it doesn't mind giving it away. What the charities don't understand is that the one thing more valuable than money to these bands is time.

Finally, there are the bands that everyone knows will play anywhere for free.

Look, if I organized a benefit show for the Humane Society I would absolutely expect to pay all the bands playing. Why? Because I would want to feature the acts that I hoped could draw the biggest audience and sell the most tickets. I wouldn't want to limit myself only to those bands that I know would play for free. It doesn’t matter if the band believes in my cause as long as it can draw a thousand paying customers to the show (that said, I wouldn't invite, say Michael Vick's All Star Extravaganza to play). I'll let the band decide if it wants to donate its earnings or not, and I'm more than happy if they don't because they helped get asses in seats.

I know what you're thinking: Who am I to say anything? Don't I write my blog for free? True, true, though most of what I write there eventually ends up here, and I'm paid for it (though that's not the reason I do it). There's a philosophy that bloggers who write for free are killing newspapers and other publications. It's bullshit, since most bloggers (myself included) are insignificant to the general public compared to the dailies. I can tell you indisputably that Lazy-i.com played no role in the cuts announced at the Omaha World-Herald last week.

There was an exquisite irony to the entire situation. YPC stands for Young Professionals Council. You know what a professional is? It's someone who gets paid for doing what s/he does for a living. Paid. It's not the Young Philanthropists Council. The YPC's mission isn't to build houses for the homeless or gather clothing or food for the poor. It exists as an opportunity for young pros to learn more about business and leadership so they can become more-effective leaders and hence, make more money. It's also an opportunity to network to find better-paying jobs than the ones they currently have. Woven into their mission is a chamber-of-commerce element to "promote the city" along with themselves.

Young Professionals do not do what they do in their companies for free, nor should they. And yet, here they are asking bands that presumably view themselves as young professional musicians to do what they do for free. Well, a number of bands that were approached to become "young amateurs" for one night said, "No thanks, I don't ask you to do your job for free, why are you asking me to do mine for free?" The organizers just shrugged and asked someone else until they found willing bands. They will always find willing bands.

Since the blog ran, a member of one of the bands said he was "doing a favor for a friend." Good for him. Like I said before: You want to play for free? God Bless America, go right ahead. Ultimately, you're the one who puts the price on the value of your music.

* * *

It's a busy night for shows. The highlight kind of snuck up on me: Har Mar Superstar at The Slowdown Jr. with His Mischief and Talkin' Mountain. Har Mar's alter ego, Sean Tillmann, has been known to pop up in the crowd at Slowdown shows from time to time. Unfortunately, HMS hasn't released a new album in five years. Maybe it's time? And yes, you read correctly, this is a frontroom show, so it'll very likely be packed (if not sold out), especially at the $8 ticket price.

Also tonight, Merge recording artist The Broken West is playing at The Waiting Room with Blind Pilot and Skypiper. $8, 9 p.m.

Down at the Barley St. Tavern, Das Tango Boyz plays with Oui Bandits, Lincoln's Pharmacy Spirits and Electric Needle Room. $5, 9 p.m.

While over at The Saddle Creek Bar it's Brave Citizens with Farewell Flight and The Answer Team. $5, 9 p.m.

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

I see by a post on Slam Omaha that the March 18 Bright Eyes show at The Waiting Room sold out in 24 minutes (and like most of you, I also didn't get a chance to buy a ticket). That's fast, but it shouldn't be a surprise to anyone, considering that Conor Oberst and his band(s) have been known to sell-out medium-sized music halls these days.

Other than that, not much else to report. Lazy-i Reader "Dane" posted links to two more Cursive-related articles on the webboard (here): A Magnet interview with Kasher, and Kasher reviewing the semi-new Aimee Mann CD @#&%* Smilers. Take a look.

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

If I'm doing my math correctly, the Cursive CD downloads are now at their full price of $9, which means it's drop day for Mama, I'm Swollen. And with drop day comes plenty of press, starting with this AZ Central interview that's so good that if I ever get a chance to interview the band for this album I'll only be left with the stupid questions (what else is new?) like "Why did you call the album Mama, I'm Swollen?" (Oops, Stereogum beat me to it). The best quotes of the piece: "I didn't realize when I was 20, that to be doing what we're doing, playing rock and roll essentially, in its broadest sense, really does give you this kind of leniency to stay young, which I would love to uphold for as long as I can. In that sense, I really embrace immaturity," and "But this is the first time in my life where if I have some sort of ailment, then, the thought can cross my mind that I'm degenerating. My body is now degenerative. I don't even want to get into my 40s because I think I'll probably go insane." Don't worry, Tim, you'll survive intact... probably.

In case you missed it, here's the Pitchfork review, which gives the album a flunking 5.2 rating and concludes with this: "There is of course a huge market for their kind of angst-ridden emo, and in many ways-- particularly lyrically-- this album sounds like it's been lifted straight from the emo handbook, which may well satisfy many listeners. For the less committed, however, the lack of the band's usual wit and musical inventiveness will be missed." Somewhere along the way (some) critics confused "emo" with "confessional," so now any indie music that's even slightly angry and personal is considered "emo" (along with anything on Saddle Creek, which somehow had an emo blanket thrown over all of its artists sometime around 2001). And in case you were wondering, emo is never used as a compliment.

Rolling Stone, on the other hand, gave the album 3 stars (here), and said, "Cursive haven't sounded this crazed and inspired since their breakthrough album, 2003's The Ugly Organ."

I stand by my earlier statement: This is the best Cursive album since Domestica.

Don't forget: Cursive's network debut is this Friday night on Late Night with David Letterman. Set your DVRs...

* * *

Surprising news of the day yesterday: Bright Eyes has scheduled a show at The Waiting Room on March 18. Tickets go on sale tomorrow at 10 a.m. for $20 a throw (limit 4). Just when people were beginning to think that they'd seen the last of Bright Eyes, Conor pulls this rabbit out of his hat apparently as a way of saying "I haven't forgotten where I came from." Hopefully that's all he's saying. We won't know until next Wednesday night, which also happens to coincide with the first day of the SXSW music festival -- I don't leave until Thursday, so I'll be at this show…if I can get a ticket.

* * *

At the same time that Little Brazil was recording its new record, Pete Yorn was working at ARC Studio on his new album, Back and Forth. Sony announced today that the album will be released June 23 on Columbia Records. The record is being touted with the headline "Mike Mogis (Bright Eyes, Rilo Kiley) produces with additional creative consulting from Rick Rubin." Among the guest stars on the album are Bright Eyes' Nate Wolcott and O&S's Orenda Fink.

* * *

Tonight at The Barley St., perennial noise-rock favorites Perry H. Matthews takes the stage with Stress Ape and The Contrails. $5, 9 p.m.

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

Congratulations, you made it to the weekend. Now here's your reward for persevering:

Spring Gun is playing its final Omaha show tonight at Slowdown Jr. There will be tears, along with plenty of blood and other bodily fluids. SG, along with Thunder Power and Noah's Ark, was one of those bands that seemed to constantly be evolving, so you never knew exactly what you were going to see on stage at any given performance. Opening is new kids on the block Sweet Pea and Slumber Party Records artist Honeybee. $5, 9 p.m.

Also tonight, Speed! Nebraska artists The Diplomats of Solid Sound and The Third Men return to The Waiting Room with Satchel Grande. $7, 9 p.m. Meanwhile, punk is the flavor of the evening tonight at the Saddle Creek Bar with The Shidiots, Officially Terminated and Youth & Tear Gas. $5, 9 p.m. Also, Lincoln's Cory Kibler is doing a set at The Barley St. $5, 9 p.m.

Expect a crush mob Saturday night for the Grand Opening of The Sydney in downtown Benson (formerly Mick's, read about it here). The night will feature performances by Mal Madrigal and Jake Bellows (of Neva Dinova). No cover!

Also tomorrow night (Saturday) at O'Leaver's, Denver's The Photo Atlas is performing with Epilogues and Cooper from Dim Light. $5, 9:30 p.m., while down at The Saddle Creek Bar it's Curbstone with Twitch and classic '80s punkers Cordial Spew. $5, 9 p.m.

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

The day after Cursive and Saddle Creek started offering 320 kpbs-quality downloads of Mama, I'm Swollen on the Creek site for $1 last Sunday, I dropped an e-mail to Creek head honcho Robb Nansel asking him how many copies they moved and why so cheap.

The specific details -- the download started at $1 on March 1 and the price has increased by one dollar each day afterward. The price as of today is $5. Nansel's not ready to share any sales numbers until the promotion ends, presumably on the March 10 drop date.

"As for the decision," Nansel said. "It's simply an experiment, to raise awareness for the record. The hope is that we get interested listeners talking about the band and ultimately build excitement for the physical release March 10th. We successfully protected against an early leak in an attempt to condense the period between when a record becomes available for free download and when it's available for purchase. In order to bolster physical sales, we designed CD and LP versions that have exclusive additional content (downloads for bonus tracks, demos and videos) and snazzy packaging. We'll see how it turns out.

The 180g ruby-red vinyl offering is indeed luscious and comes with a CD, 15-page gatefold jacket, and a download card that gets you extras including bonus tracks and videos -- all for a mere $15. Could this be the future of music marketing?

* * *

Tonight is the benefit concert for the Young Professionals Council down at Slowdown. Well, I just assumed it was a benefit concert since I've been told none of the bands performing are getting paid. Strangely, I assume that everyone else involved -- the Slowdown and its employees, the door guy, the sound guy, the vendors that sold the liquor to Slowdown, OPPD who's supplying the power, heck everyone who plays a role in the program -- is getting paid. Just not the bands.

Whose fault is that? Why, it's the bands' fault, of course. They accepted the gig believing that they'd make money on merch sales and would gain exposure. This is an issue that was discussed ad nauseam on Slam Omaha. My take: It's a free country. If you're in a band and you want to play for free for gigs where everyone else is getting a paycheck, where you don't know or like the organization, well then by god you should. Certainly accepting these kinds of gigs helps define you and your band -- just maybe not the way you want to be defined.

Who doesn't want to help out a charity that they believe in? I've even kicked around the idea of organizing a charity concert for the Nebraska Humane Society, which I'm told is struggling these days. And what band doesn't want to open for one of their favorite touring bands coming through town? It's an honor, and it's fun. And yeah, there are those bands that "just want to play" and have no interest in making money. We all have our hobbies.

It's another thing altogether if you're an established act that's been around for years and you're playing corporate-level events for free.

Serious bands (not hobbyists) seem to fall into four categories when it comes to non-paying gigs:

First there are the new bands that just want to build a following. In their minds, any chance they can get to be on stage is an opportunity. Sure, they should get paid, but their anonymity -- and their lack of drawing power -- puts them in weaker position then, say, the bands at the next level -- the ones that know what they're worth, and quite frankly, so do most of the venues in town who know better than to ask them to play for free (except under certain circumstances, like benefits or opening for a band that they love for a show that could tank).

Finally there's the superstars, which really only applies to a few bands around here. I'm talking about the bands that everyone thinks are making millions -- whether they are or not. Charities might approach these guys to play a gig for free thinking the band has so much cash it doesn't mind giving it away. What the charities don't understand is that the one thing more valuable than money to these bands is time.

And then there are the bands that everyone knows will play anywhere for free.

Look, if I organized a benefit for the Humane Society I would absolutely expect to pay all the bands playing. Why? Because I would want to feature the acts that I hoped could draw the biggest audience and sell the most tickets. I wouldn't want to limit myself only to those bands that I know would play for free. It doesn’t matter if the band believes in my cause as long as it can draw a thousand paying customers to the show (that said, I wouldn't invite, say Michael Vick's All Star Extravaganza to play). I'll let the band decide if they want to donate their earnings or not, and I'm more than happy if they don't because they helped get asses in seats.

I've never included an embedded YouTube video into the blog, so this is a first. Here's my personal writing guru/savior/inspiration, Harlan Ellison, talking about getting paid for his work. It's amusing, and accurate.

I don't know if Ellison's point about the amateurs ruining it for the professionals really applies to this argument. The amateurs can play all the free shows they want to and it's not going to lower the price that The Faint is going to receive for playing a gig. If you can sell a lot of tickets, you're going to get paid.

I know what you're thinking: Who am I to say anything? Aren't I writing this blog entry for free? True, true, though most of what I write here eventually ends up in The Reader, who does pay me (though that's not the reason I do it). There's a philosophy that bloggers who write for free are killing newspapers and other publications. It's bullshit, since most bloggers (myself included) are insignificant to the general public compared to the dailies. I can tell you indisputably Lazy-i.com played no role in the cuts announced at the OWH a couple days ago.

I'm rambling now. Let me wrap this up by reiterating my earlier comment: You want to play for free? God Bless America, go right ahead. Ultimately, you're the one who puts the price on the value of your music.

* * *

Not playing for free tonight is Murder by Death at The Waiting Room with Fake Problems and Sam Lowry. $10, 9 p.m.

* * *

Finally fellow Reader music writer Brady tipped me off that David Bazan will be playing a house show in Omaha on April 13. To find out where, you have to pay $20 per ticket. Check out how Bazan has figured out an innovative way of setting up a house-show tour. And it's working. He's selling out shows all over the country. Go to davidbazan.com for details.

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

And now part three of what has become a trilogy of stories featuring Ladyfinger. Part one was an indepth feature on the band (here). Then came last week's column, where I reviewed their CD release show (here). And now this week, a look beyond the music to the businesses owned and operated by two of the band's members. Something tells me this won't be the last thing I write about Ladyfinger this year.

Column 212: The Entrepreneurs
For these rockers, it's business as usual.

I'm told we're living through the second coming of the Great Depression. Maybe it is. People are losing their jobs and houses and livelihoods. Fear is strangling all of us as we await the return of the bread lines. Even Warren Buffett says that times are tough.

In the middle of all of that, when people are holding each dollar tightly in their angry fists, two Omaha entrepreneurs are starting new businesses. What all this has to do with music (this is, after all, a music column) will come later.

Chris Machmuller, 28, and Jamie Massey, 34, figured now was as good a time as any to roll dem bones and invest in a new business despite an economy bad enough to scare any survivor of the Depression into epileptic fits. But while they explained how they got their businesses off the ground, neither brought up the current state of the world. Booze and sandwiches, it seems, are immune to economic downturn.

Along with partners Ryan Albers, Ken McNealy and his boss at Media Services Jim Pettid, Massey purchased Benson folk music club Mick's Music and Bar from Michael Campbell and reopened it as The Sydney -- named after an old bar in Sioux City where Massey's grandparents would "kick it."

It was Pettid who found the ad in Craig's List. "I told him that it's always been a cool space, though I didn't always agree with what Mike (Campbell) was doing with it," Massey said. "If someone did something different, it could be a good place to hang out."

Hang out, and drink. Immediately after Massey and partners took over the bar in January they made changes -- painting the walls, taking out tables, adding a TV, jukebox, darts and a Golden Tee machine -- all the typical accoutrements of your local neighborhood bar. And they tore out Mick's famous stage, replacing it with a platform that currently holds a foosball table.

"We wanted it to be kind of like O'Leaver's, with regulars and a happy hour crowd," Massey said. "In my opinion, it's a little nicer than a dive bar."

Machmuller and his business partner, Pat O'Neill, originally looked at opening a restaurant in a vacant Old Home outlet on Farnam St., just down the road from The Brothers Lounge. After the deal fell through while working a shift at O'Leaver's -- a bar Machmuller's managed for three years -- he realized the answer to his dreams might lie on the other side of the bathrooms.

"I started wondering about how big that space was next door," he said. "I knew that there was no room for seating, but if we made it simple and good, a take-out restaurant would work fine."

It took 11 months of remodeling and construction before Worker's Take Out served its first sandwich last August. Machmuller said he came up with the recipes himself and with some help from his friends. Just months after opening, the shop's Cuban Pork Roast already has gained a rep as the restaurant's flagship sandwich.

And now, as the late Paul Harvey used to say, is the rest of the story. Machmuller and Massey are members of Ladyfinger (ne), a band that's signed to Saddle Creek Records and that just released their second full-length album, Dusk. Rock 'n' roll protocol states that upon releasing a new album (especially for a label with national distribution) that the artist hits the road and spends weeks driving around the country in a shitty van, performing nightly in hopes of generating attention, exposure, word-of-mouth and ultimately, album sales. So how do you do that and run a business?

Guitarist Massey said there are plenty of people to watch his back at The Sydney; the struggle will be keeping his head above the waves at Media Services, where he's the art director. Machmuller, the band's frontman, also has the necessary staff at Worker's, and there's always someone to take his shifts at O'Leaver's.

"I spread myself pretty thin," Massey said. "I'm the type of person who doesn't want to say 'no.' It becomes stressful, but it could be worse. I could be doing a job that I hate, or be at home doing nothing."

Fact is, Machmuller and Massey have no choice but to burn the two-sided candle. Both Ladyfinger and their businesses are at a crossroads, and what happens over the next few months will determine their success or failure.

"It's a matter of just staying open," Machmuller said. "Year to year -- from the first year to the second to the third -- your business should double. You hope that the longer you're around that more people will know about you, and a sense of consistency will come into place." The same holds true for rock bands.

But if Ladyfinger fails to catch fire, it only costs Machmuller his pride, whereas with Worker's, "if we have a bad week and the rent's due, even if the business can't afford it, someone's got to afford it," he said. "The money comes out of someone's pocket. You hope that the business pays for itself completely, after that, you hope to start paying yourself."

But what if the stars align as they should and Worker's and The Sydney become money-making machines at the same time that Ladyfinger finally gets the attention it deserves?

"We'll have to do everything on a bigger scale," Machmuller said, "We'll have to order more food."

"When that happens," Massey added, "we'll do another interview."

The Sydney celebrates its grand opening this Saturday, March 7, with music by Mal Madrigal and Jake Bellows (someone's going to have to move that foosball table). The bar opens at 4 on weekdays and noon on weekends, and boasts a "reverse happy hour" from midnight to closing in an effort to scoop up the after-show business.

Worker's is open Monday-Thursday, 11 a.m. to 11 p.m. and Friday and Saturday, 11 a.m. to 1 a.m. Call ahead at 932-6083. If you order a hot Cuban for me, tell them to hold the mustard.

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Here are a few words about tonight's A.A. Bondy show at The Waiting Room: Before opening for Felice Bros last September at TWR and Kevin Devine at Slowdown in early '08, it had been almost five years since A.A. Bondy came through town. Back then, he was going by the name Scott Bondy and was fronting Verbena, a major-label band that mixed grunge with Delta Blues. Verbena probably got tagged with the grunge label thanks to Bondy's grainy Cobain-esque voice. Shortly after that show in '03, Verbena hung it up. Bondy disappeared for four years and reemerged with a stripped-down sound and a new name. In '07 A.A. Bondy released American Hearts on Superphonic Records. The LP is 40 minutes of earthy indie-folk ballads that combine a heartfelt '70s Americana vibe with the subtle urgency of Nirvana Unplugged. The disc caught the ear of blues label Fat Possum Records, who rereleased it in April '08.

And so on. Opening the show is McCarthy Trenching and It's True. $8, 9 p.m.

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There's an interesting interview with Mac McCaughan at PopMatters (here). He talks about Superchunk and the rise of Merge Records. Like Saddle Creek, his label seems to have succeeded by not trying to succeed. "It's really a matter of whether we like the music or not," McCaughan says in the interview. "We're not looking at the commercial potential or the bottom line. We don't try and narrow it down to one thing that we're looking for. We appreciate experimental bands and in some ways it's a gut reaction. A lot of bands we'll discover when they mail us music, or someone emails us some tracks, and sometimes it's just not the thing that feels right for us to do at the time, and sometimes it's the fact that we have too many releases coming out in a certain time period. Merge is a really small family, so things just work out or don't based on any number of reasons. Really it's not a specific thing ... it's a gut feeling about the music." He goes on to say that he learned a lot from Gerard Cosloy when Superchunk was on Matador "and their roster is certainly something to envy." I don't know the sales figures, but these days Merge has a more envious roster than Matador (to me, anyway).

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Todd Snider is at The Waiting Room tonight with Jonny Burke. Seems like Snider's been passing through Omaha for 20 years. His music isn't my thing, but I have to hand it to the guy for sticking with it as long as he has. $18, 9 p.m.

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Tomorrow's column is the conclusion of the Ladyfinger trilogy that began three weeks ago. Check back to see how it ends.

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As I prepare for my trek to South By Southwest this year I'm considering all the bands from Omaha as well as the rest of the country that are headed to Austin for reasons that I'm not entirely sure of. When SXSW first started a few decades ago it was to provide a stage for unsigned bands that hoped to get signed, or so the legend goes. These days SXSW is nothing more than five nights of label showcases. Every band performing already has a label, a publicist, a booking agent, etc. SXSW has become a vacation option for us media people who want to check out bands that they may not have a chance to see elsewhere. Nothing more. So why do signed bands want to play the festival? Certainly not for the pay. Exposure? Probably…

I say this because if SXSW still had its original mission, no other Omaha band would be better suited to play the festival than Brad Hoshaw and the Seven Deadlies. Hoshaw doesn't have a label or a publicist or a booking agent. An appearance at SXSW could trigger a bidding war for the guy -- if this were the '80s and labels still had serious A&R guys who searched out talent to bolster their rosters. Hoshaw's music -- specifically on his new CD -- has a rare, timeless quality that I haven't heard in long time. What I mean by this: I can't remember when I first heard Simon and Garfunkel's "Cecilia," because to me the song seems to have always existed. A song like "Gone in a Minute" -- the best track on Hoshaw's new album -- has that same quality. It's a pristine pop song that will fit perfectly on anyone's mix CD, the kind of song whose melody sticks in your head and that you automatically hum along with the next time you hear it.

Hoshaw would be the perfect guy for just about any record label. He has a unique voice, is a prolific songwriter, is young and unencumbered and willing to tour. And although I don't know if he's interested or not, from a publishing standpoint his music is perfect for screened-media (TV, film, advertising). He's reliable and as far as I know doesn't have a drug or alcohol problem. And he's a nice guy (not that that ever mattered in the music business). If I had a label, I'd sign him and figure out a way to leverage all of those qualities into $$$. It could be done.

I was thinking all of this Saturday night at Hoshaw's sold-out CD release show at Slowdown Jr. He gave his usual spot-on performance (despite his songs' crazy range, I've never seen him blow a vocal melody, ever) as did his band (Whipkey continues to define himself as one of the best guitar soloists in the area). The show and his CD is a culmination of a lot of work, and is part of an ongoing musical discovery that I personally made a year ago this past January. I'd like to see Brad continue it all the way to the national exposure that he and his music deserves. Despite how much he deserves it, though, I don't know if it'll ever happen. Making it in the music world takes more than talent and a strong work ethic. It takes timing and luck and a million other intangibles that we'll never know about. I don't want this CD release show to be his high-water mark. I don't want this album be remembered 10 years from now as another strong local record that never made it out of Nebraska.

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If you don't already know by now, Saddle Creek Records and Cursive are offering a 320 kbps download of Mama, I'm Swollen at bargain basement prices. If you act today at saddle-creek.com, you can download the new record for just $2. Had you acted yesterday (as those who follow my Twitter feed know), you could have gotten it for $1. Tomorrow the download is $3, then $4 on the 4th and so on until the official release date March 10.

I spoke with someone the night of the Hoshaw show who thought the new Cursive album was a dud. I hadn't heard it yet, so I couldn't respond. After spending yesterday with it, I can say it's the best Cursive album since Domestica (Yes, I like it better than The Ugly Organ). Is there an inevitable convergence in writing style between Cursive and The Good Life? I think that's going to be a common perception by those who think that Cursive songs are loud and acidic while Good Life songs are more melodic (That criticism was even more appropriate for Happy Hollow). It's hard to argue against someone who thinks "From the Hips" would fit on a GL album. That said, there's a relentlessly stark quality about this record that defines it as a Cursive album. That dark energy is encapsulated on the closer, "What Have I Done?" which could become Kasher's "Purple Rain" -- a perfect closer for any show. This is a terrific record.

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Tonight at O'Leaver's, madness in the form of Ladyfinger. On stage. Live. The last time you'll get to see them before they head off into the wilderness we call the road. Opening is Bazooka Shootout. $5, 9:30 p.m. You want in? Get there early.

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