Days of our nights

In a revelation almost as shocking as, well, sticking a plastic knife in the toaster (i.e., not), the 1996 marriage license of rock 'n' roll "siblings" Meg and Jack White has been unearthed and can be witnessed in full at www.gloriousnoise.com. While the divorced pair have been keeping up the brother-sister charade since their very first NME stroke piece lo, these many months ago (and doing a poor job of it, we might add), there is one interesting new tidbit to be found in the aforementioned license: The "White" surname, according to the almighty state of Michigan, belongs, in fact, to Meg; Jack's real last name is Gillis. While we'd like to admire his proto-feminist adoption of his former Missus' moniker, it's more likely Jack thought using the Gillis Stripes wasn't exactly the ideal path to super sibling stardom. . . . Speaking of not-so-big surprises, Thursday's Isaac Brock show at Chop Suey was, indeed, a Modest Mouse gig—and what a show it was. After a smart opening set from James van Leuven of Automaton— his semiopaque stage setup and saucy off-kilter beats reminded us a lot of the recent Gorillaz show here, minus the $25 price tag and prefab pretensions—friends of the Mice the Vells took over, and we were honestly charmed by their sweet, achingly earnest "Waterloo Sunset"-style melodics, modernized just enough by Mouseketeer Jeremiah Green's angular drumming. Though we're far too short to have actually seen anything in the sold-out venue, we can tell you how the Mouse sounded: freaking fantastic. Plenty of new stuff, and some fresh interplay with guest guitarist Dann Gallucci (formerly of the Murder City Devils), but no scrimping on the old favorites, either. We got Lonesome Crowded West's "Bankrupt on Selling" and "Trailer Trash," which have long occupied two spots in our

All-Time Top 10, and left feeling we could, as they say, die happy. . . . Luckily, we lived, since Saturday night was full of even more hot 'n' spicy action: the opening of Softcore at the Wallpaper-ishly mod-tastic furniture showroom Area 51. The multimedia event brought all kinds of good and even great screen printing art—at disarmingly low prices, ranging mostly from $25 to $80—tasty snacks, and a highly enjoyable set from skewed digi-popsters IQU, absent far too long (actually, since New Year's Eve) from the local live scene. Hundreds of insufferably well-dressed hipsters turned out, but even their status bags and status shags couldn't mar our enjoyment of a lovely evening. . . . Though personal events of the last few weeks have had us seriously questioning human nature, publicist Steve Manning over at Sub Pop brought us back around again, with a story so sweet, we had to brush and floss when he was done. It seems that at last week's Showbox triple bill featuring comedian David Cross and indie popsters Ultrababyfat and Arlo, a friend of the latter band drove over from Spokane to catch her buddies in action. The poor girl got so excited, jumping up and down during Arlo's set, that she slipped and hurt her arm. Backstage after the show, she was still smarting from her fall when Cross suggested she go to the hospital and get the appendage checked out. When she replied that she didn't have any money or insurance, he promptly whipped out a hundred dollar bill and handed it over. And good thing too; turns out her arm was broken. Who knew comedians could also be so gosh darn nice? . . . Speaking of the Showbox, if attending June 27's Village People performance there sounds as appealing as stepping back into the fuchsia bridesmaid's dress from your cousin Carol's wedding (at which, of course, you were forced to dance to "YMCA"), think again: The band is at least astute enough to sign

on Dina Martina, Seattle's own hilariously malapropism-prone princess of pulchritude (and control-top panty hose), to open. Props to the People, or their management, for a choice well made. . . . After 28(!) years, Blondie are still going strong and are currently at work on a follow-up to 1999's No Exit, again with producer Craig Leon. With 14 tracks already in the can, the album is due later this year, along with a tour that offers dates in Green Bay and Biloxi— not to mention four in California—but zilch in the Northwest. Thanks fer nothing, Debbie. Anyways, according to guitarist Chris Stein, the work-in-progress has "an overall motif of a fire spirit," which sounds like all kinds of Stevie Nicks-style hoo-ha to us, but we'll take what we can get. . . . Maybe you were thinking it's been a while since we ended DOON on an obituary note? Well, alas, it returns, but this time we mourn only the passing of a band. It looks like beloved local aggro punks Zeke are finally calling it quits after nearly a decade—no official word on why, just a statement on their Web site. The cockroaches of rock—after being unceremoniously dumped by Epitaph Records following 2000's Dirty Sanchez, the band returned with Death Alley on Aces and Eights and endured far more smelly van tours than any band should—may be throwing in the crusty towel, but they promise to release a new disc featuring tracks old and new, plus some live material. While you're waiting, you can also check out their contribution to the upcoming Joey Ramone tribute record, alongside big boys like Green Day and the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

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

 
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