January 18

Its a doozy. . .


Jesse Sykes and Phil Wandsher, Tractor Tavern, 1/18. Photo: David Belisle.

The lovely Jesse Sykes and Phil


The Weekend Preview


January 18

Its a doozy. . .


Jesse Sykes and Phil Wandsher, Tractor Tavern, 1/18. Photo: David Belisle.

The lovely Jesse Sykes and Phil Wandsher swoop in and save the day, taking the place of tonight's previously scheduled headliner, Gerald Collier. “I wanted to do a stripped-down show because after spending a good part of the year touring with the band, it’s that time to start bunkering down to write again, and this is a nice way to sort of share a few new things I’m working on,” says Miss Sykes. Tonight's show goers may be the guinea pigs for fresh material, and that makes for something special indeed.

Tractor Tavern, 9 p.m. With Zera Marvel and Shane Tutmarc & the Traveling Mercies.

Make an easy trip up the street for Citay's return visit to the Sunset Tavern! Travis Ritter sums them up with one simply put "Dude, pass the bong!" He also says this in the Short List this week:

There’s really only one thing to be said about San Francisco’s Citay, the collaboration between Piano Magic’s Ezra Feinberg and Fucking Champs guitarist Tim Green, whose membership now hovers around eight: These folks know how to lead a campfire jam session.

Sunset Tavern, 10 p.m. $8. With Beltholes.

Sleepy Eyes of Death and Truckasaurus should be enough to pack the Showbox SODO (lounge), as Rachel note this week:

Sleepy Eyes of Death have been impressing the pants off fans of M83 and metal-shoegazers since the release of last year’s Streetlights for a Rib Cage. Truckasaurus, who sequence their vintage synths with a modified Game Boy, and the lo-fi electro group the Long Ranger likewise have the respect of the indie dance community’s gearheads, geeks, and rollerskate-dancers. They don’t need luck to fill this room.

Showbox SODO Lounge, 8 p.m. $7.

The Hands, who's 2007 EP So Sweet, with it's driving, fist pupming force has dominated my iTunes this year during days when I was both ecstatic and devastated- they've got the kind of energy that compliments the expansive emotional scale. Live, tracks like “Praying Hands Will Make Fists” can spur entire crowds into screaming the chorus and tales of darkened graveyards come pulsing to life with frontman John Healy’s vicious yowl on “Lies Lies Lies.” After a year of waiting, Selector Sound will release their debut full-length on Feburary 19th.

Comet Tavern, 9 p.m. $6. With the Fucking Eagles, the Knast, and Branden Daniels & Everyone Gets Laid.

Travis tell us why we might want to skip out on Pittsburgh Slim:

On his recent debut, Tastemaker, Slim tries to highlight his diverse musical interests (hence the title), and manages to capitalize on the worst character flaws of both the mash-up and club rappers. Words of advice, Slim: Don’t sample “Smells Like Teen Spirit” and sing “I fuck on the first date, cuz that shit don’t be worth the wait”—you sound like a VD breeding ground, not to mention a stupid asshole for using the song to begin with.

Yikes. Chop Suey, 8 p.m. $12 adv. With With the Pack, Tyga, and Kuddie Mak.


January 19


Circle Jerks, El Corazon, 1/19.

I remember bing enlightened, a little too early in life, by a charming friend's older brother as to what a circle jerk was and having to run straight home. Travis' dad had similar sentiments when he found his teenage son's copy of the Circle Jerks Group Sex/Wild in the Streets.

“This is gross, Travis!” he said, before tossing the tape into my room. For that, Circle Jerks will always have a place in my heart. Though I can’t say what the legendary L.A. punks have been doing since the early ’90s (my initial response to the announcement that Circle Jerks were coming to town was: “Keith Morris is still alive?!”), it should be duly noted that tossing up your fists in a circle pit, swimming in a sea of skanking crusties and a golden shower of hits, or just bearing witness to Morris’ unhinged, live-fast-die-old onstage madness is pretty much the most electric thing you’ll experience all year.

El Corazon, 7 p.m. $15 adv./$17. With Last of the Believers and Hit Me Back.

Eek-A-Mouse brings his 6 ft. 6" frame to Nectar's stage. Kevin Capp puts it best:

A rude boy sheathed in rodent fur, Jamaica-born dancehall vet Eek-a-Mouse is one strange, er, cat. (That he’s named after a losing racehorse chucks yet another—though larger—mammal into the mix.) His helium-spiked nasal twang speeds along at a rapid clip, enhancing a running commentary on the weird—from tracks about steamed greens and ice cream (“Modelling Queen”) to destitute weed traffickers (“Ganja Smugglers”).

Nectar, 9 p.m. $17.

Mark D. Fefer makes a case for why Jerry Gonzales and the Fort Apache Band should not be missed at EMP's Skychurch:

Erupting from the Bronx 25 years ago, Jerry Gonzalez and the Fort Apache Band moved beyond a stale standards-gone-salsa formula into fiercer, undanceable realms. On trumpet and congas, Gonzalez has some of Miles’s aloof, mercurial intensity, and his saxophonists (currently Joe Ford) play a more dangerous game than the usual Latin good-time guys. During a performance at Ballard’s Backstage in 1992 (the last time the band played here), Gonzalez rose from the congas in mid-solo to kick over the microphones in fury. Fifteen years later, Earshot director John Gilbreath—curator of EMP’s Jazz in January program—still calls the show “one of the all-time most exciting I’ve seen,” and I would agree.

Skychurch, 7 p.m. $12-$15.


January 20


Dan Deacon's Ultimate Reality, Neumo's, 1/20.

Beware: This live screening of Dan Deacon's Ultimate Reality DVD isn't for the faint of heart. Or those who suffer from seizures. TR enlightens:

The back cover of Ultimate Reality, a video collaboration between cheeky electro-gadget spaz Dan Deacon and video artist Jimmy Joe Roche, explicitly warns “if you suffer from seizures and epilepsy, please show the DVD to your doctor before watching” on the back cover, and they fucking mean it. Steer clear if either 1) sautéeing your eyeballs with the innards of a mutilated kaleidoscope in a hot griddle or 2) going into strobe-inducing, thousand-color convulsions with visions of Arnold Schwarzenegger for 34 minutes isn’t your idea of fun. Otherwise, put your senses to the limit. Ultimate Reality is a beautiful, hypnotic mess of visual and musical stimuli, where scenes from Schwarzenegger films (including Conan the Barbarian, Terminator, Predator, Total Recall, Kindergarten Cop, and even Junior) are spliced into an orgasmic array of colors and parallel dimensions. This screening will be accompanied by live drumming, and will lead into Deacon’s sweaty, always-energetic closing set. Don’t forget your stunna shades. You’re going to need them.

Neumo's, 8 p.m. $10 adv.

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