We thought it had been too long since we'd heard from Tonya Harding. The ice-skating world's very own trailer-park Lady Macbeth must have kept that

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Days of our nights

We thought it had been too long since we'd heard from Tonya Harding. The ice-skating world's very own trailer-park Lady Macbeth must have kept that lead pipe and moved on to disabling indie rock's finest talents; how else to explain the recent rash of broken bones showing up on some of our favorite drummers? Guided By Voices' tour in support of the excellent Isolation Drills has been canceled due to Jon McCann's shattered paw. They'll play two East Coast shows with old drummer Jim MacPherson, but forget about any Northwest action. . . . Bet you all thought it had been too long since we hooted on about Sigur R�B>. Well, we've got news, so we're hooting away: The tragically hip Icelandikkers (Icelandians? Icelandites?) are all booked for an October 2 gig at (drumroll please)—the King Cat Theater? It sounds odd, but not so much when you realize that, since the band refuse to play any traditional liquor serving-type establishments (they are artistes, you know, and ever so sensitive), the Cat is most likely the local venue that came closest to their desired "cathedral-like" atmosphere. . . . An update on last week's Pete Yorn jailbait soap opera: The underage girlfriend in question actually belonged to the lead singer of openers Ours, and when the Crocodile's door guys refused to make an exception for Miss Thing, she didn't take it so well. Neither did her hot-shit boyfriend; at set's end, he encouraged the crowd to, quote, "Spit on the security on your way out." Gee, and here we thought club employees would always break state laws and risk their jobs to let in the not-even-barely-legal "companions" of self-important rock stars. Especially when said girlfriend calls the head of the operation "a dick" to his face. She sure showed him age ain't nothing but a number. Give the girl a cocktail! . . . Area One, Shmarea One. For major festival action, everyone knows England's

always had the goods, and now they're getting into the export business with the Reading, one of their best, to be held in Camden, N.J., on September 8. Why Camden, which has been described as the armpit of New Jersey and, thus, stinky armpit of the nation squared? Organizers are saying because it's the closest large venue to Reading, Pennsylvania. Whatever. Here's the lineup: Eminem, Travis, Green Day, Manic Street Preachers, Papa Roach, Staind, Linkin Park, Xhibit, and more to come. . . . Or, save up your tips, head to Espa�B> for the Festival Internacional de Benicassim, and represent for beloved locals Death Cab for Cutie and the Posies, who will be performing alongside acts like Belle & Sebastian, the Flaming Lips, PJ Harvey, and Mogwai on August 3-5. If you're really Mr. Moneybags or just want to torture yourself, go to www.festival-benicassim.com and check out the rest of the slated performers. . . . An interesting turn of events: While the general trend of music retailers has, for years, been the reaming of mom-and-pop independents under the jackboot of the giants, it seems Goliath himself has tripped over his big old corporate clompers. Mammoth chain Tower Records is denying the bad news left and right, Rep. Gary Condit-style, but recent daily press coverage says the scourge of competition from discount stores and online retailers, as well as overenthusiastic expansion abroad and generally flat music sales in the industry overall, haven't been good to them. If they do go under, what will we do without those creepy, and often highly inaccurate, artist renderings (Missy Elliot looking like Al Roker, for one) on the side of the Mercer outlet? . . . And now, from our fair state capitol, the word-word on Yo-Yo A Go-Go, from ace guy Andrew Bonazelli: "For better or worse, the hands-down

punkest set of the evening was by Glass Candy and the Shattered Theatre. They were incredibly shrill, raw, and, I imagine, very unrehearsed. Halfway through the set, the vocalist's pants ripped and slid off repeatedly, at no time more memorably than during a stumbling stage dive as the guitarist failed to execute a Jeff Ament- style cymbal crash with the guitar neck and plopped back on his ass. She duct-taped her pants back on, and the band calmed down substantially, which was a damn shame. The only other really memorable element was Mirah, that eclectic, folksy rising-star solo artist, doing a crowd-pleasing cover of Springsteen's "Dancing in the Dark," during which a guest guitarist (female) played true to form and brought a Courteney Cox wanna-be up from the audience to dance." Sigh. . . . If you like primates as much as we do (and if you don't, we have to talk), you'll be thrilled to know that '80s Sledgehammer turned world-beat middle-ager Peter Gabriel is teaching real live hairy homo sapiens to tear it up. He's been putting in time with a group of apes at Georgia State University in Atlanta, reportedly encouraging their efforts with lots of Jell-O rewards. Let's try not to get our hopes up that the funky monkeys will join him onstage with the Afro Celt Sound System at Marymoor Park's WOMAD Festival this weekend. Just in case, though, bring some Puddin' Snacks. . . .

Send sightings, news flashes, and bitchy bits to nights@seattleweekly.com.

 
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