The legendary Fugazi kept it real—real Canadian, that is—choosing to play their only Northwest date in Victoria, B.C., this past weekend. Seattle weaseled its way in there thanks to an opening set from our own Pretty Girls Make Graves, and both bands, according to our witness, "rocked." "Some kids," she continued, "actually had the balls—or stupidity—to smoke out while Fugazi started playing. Luckily the pot aroma didn't make its way up to [infamously drug intolerant] Ian, otherwise it could've been a very short set." . . . Fans of Sub Pop-distributed pop tarts St. Etienne may have to wait a while to see the band again—it seems their lovely blond chanteuse Sarah Cracknell is now on the mommy track. The man who planted the seed? Her live-in boyfriend and manager Martin Kelly (who also watches over Doves and Beth Orton, among others), a guy who is said to really enjoy the rock star's up-all-nightlife, but we're sure they'll settle down just fine. Too soon to tell if the nursery will be blue or pink. . . . Gosh, we're gullible. When they told us the Strokes' drummer broke his wrist falling off the tour bus, they must have thought we just fell off the turnip truck. Other sources say it was actually a bar scuffle (that's so much more rock 'n' roll than eating it on the stairs, we don't know why they didn't just say that in the first place) and whooping it all over the U.K. with, among others, Elastica's Justine Frischmann, before returning to the U.S. (and, soon, Seattle). . . . Isn't it amazing what makes it over the pond? And how misinterpreted it is once it gets there? This month, the U.K.'s music rag, Q, features a review of Juno's A Future Lived in Past Tense (DeSoto), which deems it "unintentionally ridiculous." Reviewer Dan Gennoe posits that Arlie and the boys seem intent on proving themselves to be deep thinkers, resorting to "laboured guitar
laments" and "pretentious titles" in order to do so. The review wraps up by comparing Juno with Spinal Tap, and that, friends, just ain't right. Neither is the assertion, in the same issue, that Mark Lanegan's Field Songs might do better if he "possessed the poster-boy looks of Eddie Vedder rather than resembling a workmate of Roseanne's John Goodman." Huh? Maybe we're overly loyal to our own, but we think that's just plain mean (and in Lanegan's case, dead wrong). We'll refrain from comments on the Brits' general lack of both dental health and discernable chins here. Oh wait, we just didn't. . . . A recent WOMAD press release stated that the lineup would include Stephen Jenkins (of Third Eye Blind). Whoops! They meant Stephen Perkins, co-founder of Jane's Addiction. Dammit, we demand a refund if we're not getting "Semi-Charmed Life." . . . Last Saturday night, we bolstered our waning hipster cred with the breezy boys of Air, whose fashion statement for the evening consisted of jaunty little Dracula capes—we didn't realize they had any Transylvanian in them. Reactions ranged from moans of pleasure to stifled yawns, with universal agreement on the pleasing aesthetics of dreamy guitarist Jason Falkner. Even the Frenchies like a little porn in their sets, it seems, as Jean-Benoit apologized slyly in advance for the lyrics of "Wonder Milky Bitch." . . . Portland's Electric Eye gave Sunday night's Sit & Spinners a real ride. Sounding like a cross between the MC5 and— owing to their unusually postured guitar player and his choppy, angular licks— Devo (we actually sang along to one of their songs with the words from "Uncontrollable Urge"), the post-Bands on the Run finale crowd ate up the rock like it had been served to them on fine china. . . . And you thought we weren't cultured. Well, here we are encouraging you to head down to Belltown's Roq La
Rue gallery this unlucky Friday the 13th to see an exhibit of work by "rock photographer to the gods" Dean Karr. Seattle-bred, L.A.- residing Dean has captured everyone from Busta Rhymes to AC/DC on film, and created videos for the likes of Marilyn Manson, Dr. Dre, and (last but certainly not least) Iron Maiden. Also, in the back room look for Yumiko Kayukawa, who does the kind of candy-colored Japanese-themed art so many locals love. And yes, my little freeloaders, there will be snacks, drinks, and DJs. . . . We don't care if he has been institutionalized, if Kool Keith is sane enough to be wandering the streets, he should know he owes his fans more than a 35-minute show. Even a killer version of "Sex Style" does not earn him forgiveness for a set that, at 20 bucks a pop, worked out to far too little for far too much. And if we wanted to see a girl's boobies on stage, we'd be at the Lusty Lady, mm-kay? . . .
This week's contributor: Laura Learmonth
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