American Idols, Joe Jackson, and More

POP TARTS PRESENTS AMERICAN IDOLS LIVE!
KeyArena, 305 N. Harrison St., 206-684-7100, at 7:30 p.m.
Tues., Aug. 26. $25-$45 adv.

They've dreamed of singing before arena-sized crowds since the age of 3! We've watched American Idol religiously and dialed in our favorite performers! And this week, the nine top American Idol 2 finalists and their audience of voters will finally have a chance to meet face-to-face! I was Clay-all-the-way from about halfway through the season, and I'm certainly not bitter with the way his career has exploded thus far (even though silky crooner Ruben Studdard was voted this year's Idol). That said, two key components that made the TV show a must-watch shall be missing from the concert. First, no judges' panel. To substitute, I'll look for a bemused dad surrounded by his 9-year-old daughter and her shrieking friends. Chances are, he drew the short stick for baby-sitting night and he'll have plenty of Simon-inspired one-liners. Second, the voting process that gave viewers a sense of both tension and ownership is replaced by a weighted set list that showcases individual performers in the order in which the finalists were voted off the show. We already know the outcome. Still, that does mean the show will get better as it goes on. Each of the top three finalistsKimberly Locke, Clay Aiken, and Studdardhas a great voice and a solid, professional stage presence. The deafening cheers from the finalists' younger fans will definitely help inject excitement into the live performances. The song selections will be very familiar interpretations of pop and R&B standards, so I might be tempted to sing along. And if that baby-sitting dad tells me, with a Simon sneer, that my voice sounds like a dying walrus, I'll tell him that's why I'm not a singerI just voted for one on TV. CHRIS LORRAINE

Back when they were called 45s, Joe Jackson's "Stepping Out" was one of my first. I didn't understand much about the nuances of the song at the timeI was 11 and really had no business understanding such things, but it appealed to me on a general level. I liked the line where Jackson implored, "Electricity so fine/Look and dry your eyes." He was a tough guyor at least he certainly seemed to be when compared to my pint-size schoolmates in Mr. Jacot's fourth-grade class. But what's more, he was sensitive"Dry your eyes, baby," he told me. Even prepuberty, that kind of thing sounded pretty comforting. Then came other records and other singles, courtesy of my older brother. "Sunday Papers," "On the Radio," "Is She Really Going Out With Him?"these songs felt urgent as I lay alone in my lavender bedroom atop the rainbow-striped bedspread. Listening to the recent Joe Jackson Band Volume 4 (Rykodisc), I'm impressed by Jackson's ability to keep his pop songs real. Most of the aforementioned vintage tunes, recorded live in 2002, appear on the bonus disc, and the 11 new tracks definitely don't suck. Sure, the production feels cleanerat times it's almost aggressively spotless. And Jackson's latter-career ska leanings are still being leaned on. But Jackson's voice and his current band's arrangements have musclenot the flexed young-man muscle of the early '80s, but the kind that find new ways around old blocks. Pushing 50, Jackson now writes about dirty martinis, thugz, one-night stands, and bright gray. I may be pessimistic about pop careers that span numerous decades, but when the electricity is so fine, I'm willing to make exceptionsand while I'm at it, I think I'll dry my eyes. LAURA CASSIDY

Here's Dead Meadow's recipe for success: Float dreamy detached vocals over plutonium-heavy Sabbathoid riffs; then punctuate from time to time with guitar solos that recall everyone from Jimi Hendrix to the Bevis Frond. Voilà! It's a simple idea, like punching a few holes in the side of a soda can to make a pipebut in the capable paws of guitarist Jason Simon, bassist Steve Kille, and drummer Stephen McCarty, it's a hell of a lot more effective. Shivering King and Others (Matador), the trio's third slab of solidified smoke, is a whole lot trickier than it sounds on paper, more like a soufflé than a makeshift smoking utensil. For one thing, the band is savvy enough to back off from the weapons-grade riffage from time to time and nip into a cornucopia of psychedelic delights; as a result, the album floats like a paisley butterfly and stings like a hornet. "Everything's Going On" drifts like stained-glass smoke over a small-town love-in in a way that recalls Spacemen 3 at their most focused. And the acoustic "Me and the Devil Blues" could easily provide the soundtrack for a sci-fi spaghetti Western daytime-TV sex epic. But it's when they hit the "heavy as fuck" button, as on album opener "I Love You Too," that Dead Meadow glow the brightest. And what's most surprising about the albumand the bandis that Simon's fiery, convoluted solos are far more than mere exercises in proficiency, to the extent that they're statements in the grand '60s guitar-hero tradition. Who'd've thunk? ROD SMITH