Days of our nights

Here's one for the Where Are They Now files: Eighties pop star Adam Ant has been charged with assault and possession of a firearm following an incident in a London pub. The 47-year-old, known to his mom (mum?) as Stuart Goddard, is accused of inflicting "actual bodily harm on a man in his 40s" and "intent to cause fear of violence," all of which may not bode well for his upcoming comeback tour, slated for April. . . . Bring on the primates! Gorillaz are coming to Seattle, and judging by the recent turnout for Dan the Automator's other side project Lovage (there are about 12 more where that came from), this one could get nuts. Blur's Damon Albarn is the only member absolutely confirmed to appear, but eager PR folks promise a number of guests from the "virtual group's" debut record. That could mean anyone from Cibo Matto's Miho Hatori or Del Tha Funky Homosapien to Buena Vista favorite Ibrahim Ferrer and ex- Talking Head Tina Weymouth. . . . Speaking of Lovage, man, it was stupid crowded down at I-Spy last Wednesday. But the question of the night was: Who were the masses really there for? Was the bulk of that roiling crowd made up of devoted Mr. Bungle- heads drooling for Mike Patton, horny fanboys gagging for a glimpse of Elysian Field's Jennifer Charles in her negligee, or b-boys itching for another turntable round with Kid Koala? Hard to say, but we lean on the side of Patton freaks—that man has a capital-F Following, no matter what he does. And the show? Well, with all the satin smoking jackets and glued-on ChiPS mustaches weighing down already tongue-glued-to-cheek beats, we were a little wary, but Charles writhing her hips and cooing like an East Village Blanche DuBois was pretty goddamn sexy. . . . Since weekend jaunts to the East Coast have been cruelly removed from our budget, we give you this report from Jason Roth, a friend in N.Y.C.

who attended last weekend's Mission of Burma show there: "Loose, noisy, and urgent—just like back when. Sounded slightly less arty without the tape loops, but still coaxed real live anthems out of Gang-of-Four-ish, nonlinear guitar scrapings. Roger Miller wore the same airport-grade headphones he wore at the '83 Farewell/Tinnitus shows, and, encouraging to us all vanitywise, they still had their hair. Lots of guys in the audience wearing berets, though. Fucking berets! Thurston Moore and Lee Ranaldo did a noisy jam with them at the end that, despite momentum-busting technical difficulties at the onset, ended up being pretty cool. And 'Academy Fight Song' remains one of the best rock songs ever. No regrets." . . . A speedy recovery to Miss Rachel Trachtenberg, diminutive drummer of the beloved Trachtenberg Family Slideshow Players. She's slipped and broken her leg, as active kids—not to mention busy rock stars—are apt to do, which means four to six weeks out of the loop. . . . Bouquets of blood and wormy chocolate hearts for all—thrash-metal legends Slayer return with their full original lineup on Feb. 14 at the McDonald Theatre in Eugene, Ore. If that doesn't say Valentine's Day to you and your love bunny, we just can't help you. Tickets go on sale Jan. 21 at Fastixx outlets. . . . Look for a mid-February release from Gallic superstars Air—a remix album of last year's 10,000 Hz. Legend, featuring the amped-up, refried takes of artists like Daft Punk, the Neptunes, Mr. Oizo (that cutie-patootie "flat beat" puppet) and dub maestro Adrian Sherwood. The title? This just kills us (and Mr. Stipe, too, we're sure): Everybody Hertz. . . . We recently checked in with Kerri Harrop, distinguished alumna of the Weekly and, as you may have already heard, soon- to-be booker of the newly purchased Breakroom, now rechristened Chop Suey.

Harrop, whose history in Seattle goes way back with Sub Pop as well as myriad clubs and bars who host her alter ego, DJ Cherry Canoe, on a regular basis, has this to say about the new space: "[The club] will definitely be a welcoming home for touring national acts—particularly if they like to cold rock the party. We want Chop Suey to be a place that bands look forward to playing and people are psyched to go to—artist friendly and community-minded, y'know? I'm also a big proponent of clean, working bathrooms." Plans for regular weekly events aren't yet written in stone (or soy sauce), but she admits, "I love the balance that weekly nights can bring to a joint. That said, I think it's important to keep weekly nights fresh and enticing. It's the houseguest rule: If they start to stink, throw 'em out." Amen. . . . And lastly, it seems to be an unfortunate near-weekly tradition here at DOON—announcing yet another passing: Juan Garcia Esquivel, who died Jan. 3 at his home in Mexico at the age of 83. The arranger-composer had a long and varied career, one most remarkably revived with the 1994 release of Space Age Bachelor Pad Music, which saw a whole new generation of martini-shaker ironists rediscovering his singular talent. He was a man worth far more than the kitsch value of a passing revival trend, and we're truly sad to see him go.

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

 
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