Stop the madness. We know we weren't the only ones at last Wednesday's EMP Electroclash show to turn to our neighbors more than once for

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Strokes rock, Cantrell cancels, Promise Ring quits, more.

Stop the madness. We know we weren't the only ones at last Wednesday's EMP Electroclash show to turn to our neighbors more than once for a good old "What the fuck?" eyeball roll. The so-called second- and third-wave of Brooklyn bands to jump on the 'clash wagon opened the show, and we have this to say about W.I.T. (Whatever It Takes): Indeed, you are superhot, but give us a few bolts of gold lam鬠a cheap Casio, and 20 minutes to practice, and we, too, could have put on that show. Not only did the tricked-out trio play to a DAT machine, they lip-synched half their choruses! Christ almighty. Chicks on Speed certainly expended a little more effort, though a lot of the joyful spontaneity we so admired at their gig opening for Le Tigre last year seemed lost in their efforts at extreme visual presentation. Even our beloved Peaches, though by far the best act of the night, kept losing her momentum for costume changes. What was once an intriguing musical movement has, it seems, devolved into a fashion-obsessed tragedy. Then again, some might say we are taking them—and ourselves—way too seriously; did anyone ever think it was really about the music? We sure forgot which song Peaches was singing when our dirty friend H (whose lovely parents we won't embarrass by printing her full name) hopped on stage to fellate the great Canadian's strap-on dildo, and it looked like everyone else did, too. . . . Speaking of madness, last Monday's Strokes show at the Paramount was about as close as we've ever come to alcohol poisoning by proxy—a stumbling Julian Casablancas looked drunk enough to get the whole front row loaded just on fumes, but managed (Weebles wobble, but they don't fall down), miraculously, to not only remain largely upright but put on a pretty great freakin' show. Much as we have tried to resist these Park Avenue punks on principle, Is This It is, derivative or not, an addictive album, and new tracks like "Meet Me in the Bathroom" and "You Talk

Way Too Much" are just more of the same. We surrender. . . . First, the Flaming Lips started covering Kylie Minogue's "Can't Get You Out of My Head" in their live shows, and now Fischerspooner have picked up the ageless, perky-bottomed Australian (who's also the band's labelmate) to add vocals to their new single, "Come Into My World." They're touring, but nowhere near Seattle, so you won't get to see Kylie's scheduled live guest performances, either. . . . You will, however, be in just the right place if you want to see Pearl Jam and, possibly, Queens of the Stone Age and Audioslave. One or both of the groups are rumored to be opening for PJ's Dec. 8 benefit show at KeyArena. . . . In other Good Old Days news, if you're wondering why Jerry Cantrell never made his scheduled Showbox appearance last week, here's your answer: According to his publicist, Jerry passed out from "extreme exhaustion and dehydration" following an Oct. 23 show in Portland. He's all better now, and has picked up the tour again in Nebraska. No word on a rescheduled date though. . . . Lately, rock stars just seem all about the little people. No, not midgets, you ass; we mean the common folk. Example 1: New Order is letting a few actually not-so-common fans choose the contents of their upcoming box set, including two journalists, former Hacienda DJ Mike Pickering, and Primal Scream frontman Bobby Gillespie. Example 2: Moby is turning the direction for a promo video over to the most tenacious and talented fan. His Web site is now asking for submissions of a video treatment for any track on 18, and he'll choose his favorite, then give a nice chunk of money to said fan to go professional. Send submissions to info@d-e-f.com with "VIDEO COMP" as the subject header up until Nov. 30, and good luck to you, aspiring auteur. . . . Rock stars also can't seem to stop yapping on lately about the influence of '60s super-producer (and not-so-super husband to the Ronettes' Ronnie) Phil Spector and his

legendary Wall of Sound. Now Phil is actually getting back in on the action for Starsailor's new record, and is even in talks with the Hives to do some work on their follow-up to Veni Vidi Vicious. . . . Also a rolling trend: the supergroup. This week's edition is brought to you by the Thorns, featuring Matthew Sweet, Pete Droge, and Shawn Mullins. The name is tentative, but the album's in the can and due next year on Aware Records. According to founder Greg Latterman, the Brendan O'Brien-produced release (he's also done Pearl Jam, Bruce Springsteen, and Korn) is a "Crosby, Stills & Nash kind of thing that will blow people's minds." OK, consider it blown. . . . Remember that awesome, awesome television moment when the Flaming Lips appeared on Beverly Hills 90210 to play "She Don't Use Jelly" at the Peach Pit? Well, they're back and on the WB for the Nov. 17 episode of witchy-poo drama Charmed to perform "Do You Realize?" We don't know about you, but we're there and square. . . . Finally, a belated obit is in order for the Promise Ring. The band announced onstage at a recent Plea for Peace tour date that they would be calling it quits after eight years. Good luck to them, and Godspeed, you emo emperors.

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

 
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