Still feeling the tryptophan? Not us, amigos. After a hot date with the full second season of The Sopranos on DVD and a big bowl

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Days of our nights

Still feeling the tryptophan? Not us, amigos. After a hot date with the full second season of The Sopranos on DVD and a big bowl of leftover mashed potatoes (hooray for carbs!), we're all bright eyed, bushy tailed, and bursting with good gossip. As promised, we took a few days off from the so-called social whirl to enjoy a lovely, low-key holiday weekend, but even when we don't darken the doors of this city's many music establishments, juicy bits just seem to find us—like bees to honey or flies to poop: You pick the metaphor. First off: Jack White, the next Fred Durst? Let us explain: the White Stripes' frontman is hopping on the mogul track, having been wooed by Virgin Records to be one of only two A&R guys for the label (all but one were recently let go). This will put him a position to wield nearly as much power as Mr. Bizkit, whose reign of terror at Interscope Records as a senior VP has led to all sorts of handpicked, Durst- approved acts getting their 15 minutes or more, complete with cushy contracts and constant airplay. It's admittedly a pretty left-field choice—how commercially viable will White's choices really be?— but we admire the label's chutzpah. All we wanna know is: What about Meg? Like they say, behind every good man. . . . Speaking of Durst, as much as we don't give a hamster's patootie about rap-metal's reigning king, we were somewhat surprised to hear that Limp Bizkit is looking for a female guitarist to replace the departing Wes Borland (who, an insider reveals, actually left in disgust because Durst was boffing his wife, not, as reported, because of "artistic differences"). In fact, the band seems hell-bent on getting XX chromosomes in the lineup, which frankly, we can't see as anything else but a schlocky marketing ploy, but it should be interesting to watch. Any suggestions? . . . Oh, screw it. Since we've already waxed on about the Bizkit, we're not even going

to pretend to be all down and indie now—just consider this week's DOON to be your major-label cheeseball Hollywood edition. First off, a source on the set of Eminem's upcoming biopic reports that Mr. Slim Shady (who stars as himself) has dumped co-star Brittany Murphy, who plays his wife, for Kim Basinger, who plays his mother. All together now: Eeewwww! We're not even going to touch the Oedipal jokes there; we feel dirtied enough as it is. And second: Oh! Mah! Gawd! Yes, it's true—Britney and Justin Timberlake have set a date for their wedding: Valentine's Day 2002. Didn't know the former Mousketeers and current pop Godzillas were engaged? Us either, but as of a few months from now, Miss Spears will never have to insist on her virginity again—though how she thinks we can't tell her and Justin have been going at it like crazed chimps since the beginning, we can't imagine. . . . And back on the rock tip, more dirty inside tidbits from someone who will remain sort of anonymous (thanks R.P. in N.Y.C.!): Former Weezer bassist Mikey Welsh has surfaced in Boston, where he is, ahem, jamming with ska revivalists Mighty Mighty Bosstones, of all people, and dissing his previous band right and left. It is, alas, sadly easy to mock the Weeze, whose latest single has been co-opted by none other than Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen, the Full House twins turned rulers of their own terrifyingly massive 'tween empire. The terrible twosome are using "Islands in the Sun" as the theme song for their latest video release and even take their own whack at the tune. More signs of the apocalypse as they arrive. . . . Oh, look, here's one! Marilyn Manson doing a cover of Soft Cell's "Tainted Love" for the upcoming soundtrack for teen-flick spoof, Not Another Teen Movie. . . . In classier news, Icelanders par excellence Sigur Ros have taken home the first annual

Shortlist Prize for Artistic Achievement in Music, modeled after the U.K.'s prestigious Mercury Prize. The Virgin Megastore will donate the $10,000 prize in their name to the Sept. 11 Fund. . . . And now, some local scraps: SIL2K, long a mainstay at I-Spy on Monday nights, is moving on. The experimental evening that brought you acts like DJ Spooky, the Moonbabies, and Takagi Masakatsu, as well as countless local freaks of the (improv) industry, won't disappear entirely; look for upcoming appearances at alternative venues like Consolidated Works and Re-bar. . . . Show some respect and go see the Bay Area's Tres Pistolas when they come to the Sunset Tavern on the 29th. The beleaguered Oakland rockers were all excited to make their first gig in Seattle during Memorial Day weekend this year when they were demolished by a semi on their way up I-5, but now, thanks to a hefty insurance settlement, the recently recovered trio (minus their dearly departed tour bus) are brave enough to return. And you thought airplanes were risky. . . . Though we like to think we do a marvelous job of keeping you informed here at El Weekly, we may have a few blind spots, so we're willing to recommend a couple alternatives: firstly, the Seattle Techno Information Line. STIL offers a list of upcoming events, a club and promoter directory, and "tracks of the week" selections for people who can't or don't want to hit up a URL any time they need to know what's up. The number, for future reference, is 686-3151. Also, for those who want even more of what we so lovingly refer to as "dirty hippie shit," and who do like it online, www.seattlelivemusic.net has all the jammy-jam info your heart desires. . . . Last but not least, an almost-but-not-quite obituary/blind item puzzler: What venue could fall in line behind Gibson's

and the Rendezvous on that sad little list of the recently departed? Well, we're not saying yet because we just refuse to believe that it's true, but let's just say that if you can possibly scrape together 10 bucks for the door charge and a beer, do it. And keep doing it. Do it for rock and roll, do it for Seattle, hell—remember Grease 2?—do it for your country, but dammit, do it. You all complain already that there's precious little to do around here to begin with, and we certainly don't want those whines to become all-out sobs (Kleenex uses up trees, people), so get your butt out of the house and into the streets.

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

 
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