To their credit, Pitchfork compiled a more-or-less well done 25 worst album covers of the year list, but they're remiss in not recognizing the power of a well done album cover. Rather than complain, we're taking matters into our own hands and making a list of our own. If RIAA doomsayers are to be believed, the great sun of the era of the tangible album is being eclipsed by filesharing, iTunes, and the menacing iPod. Art should be more important today than ever, if for no other reason than to give internet savvy fans a reason (other than goodwill) to buy your record.
In this list, there will be no countdown, instead, categories.

Photography

Destroyer - Rubies

It's the patchy sunlight, the atmospheric lamp, the stacks of books, the quaint, lived-in feeling. It's Destroyer personified. (Miles)

Justin Timberlake - Futuresex/Lovesounds
If there was a "Most Improved" category, Justin would take it, hands down. Justified, though a solid record was a tacky purple morass that made Timberlake look more aging teen idol than budding pop star. As a photo, Futuresex is an American Apparel ad gone classy, way to go, dude! (Kevin)

Grizzly Bear - Yellow House
Original, sharp, and above all nostalgic: You're a little kid giving a last once-over to the house you were born in, everything is empty and the truck is waiting outside. (Kevin)

The Mars Volta - Amputechture
Miles gave me guff for this one. Whatever. Mars Volta put too much thought into their music: its masturbatory, trying, and self-congratulating. If their music was as good as this cover: simple, dramatic, strange, and calm, they might have found an actual working formula. (Kevin)

Six Organs of Admittance - The Sun Awakens
When your record's cover corresponds with its title, your ground gets shaky: are you making a joke? Are you trying to be clever? Unless you're Weird Al (Poodle Hat!), you're better off leaving it blank. In Six Organs' case, it's perfect: subtle, cathartic, and dark. The aesthetics stop the bad pun dead in its tracks. (Kevin)

Casiotone for the Painfully Alone - Etiquette
A perfectly ghostly, surreal and captivating illustration. Nothing says "bone-crushingly depressed" quite like a dinner party with an alligator. (Miles)

Islands - Return to the Sea
Contrary to what your eyes might be telling you, this is a painting. SHOCKING! What makes this cover, though, is the bold, modern typeface. It takes the force of the glacier and lets you know that damnit, Islands are forever. (Miles)

Cornelius - Sensuous
This shows exactly why font is important. A lot of album covers fail in what they're trying to execute because the band excludes their name, the result: Boring! In this case, the text makes the cover. So nice, he wrote it twice! (Kevin)

Tom Child (Calendar Editor)
Beirut - Gulag Orkestar
The picture reflects the same geographic mystery of the music—it could be anywhere really—but I like to imagine the car has pulled alongside the road just outside some unpronounceable town east of the Adriatic sea. It's been decades since the reactor meltdown, but there's still that tinge of magic in the air. These Baltic beauties will take you to their local bar, get you trashed, let you sing onstage with the gypsy band, and make you fall in love with them. In the morning, you'll board the train broken-hearted and missing your shoes. The perfect match of cover art with music.

Miles Clements (Intern)
Subtle - For Hero: For Fool
Subtle's striped-faced "Our Hero Yes" looks like he's about to pull off a military coup. The war medals let you know that he's accomplished. The flaming hair lets you know that he's a loose cannon. Either way: the perfect compliment to the band's abstract, psychedelic hip-hop.

Kevin Ferguson (Intern)
Genghis Tron - Dead Mountain Mouth
If I could have an enormous poster of this on my wall, I would. The bigger the better. Note the stones in front of the hut (that's fucking ON FIRE WITH CREEPY BIRDS HOVERING ABOVE): they read GT, which means that this cover was probably made with the band in mind.

Ellen Griley (Managing Editor)
Walkmen - Pussy Cats
I honestly hope that this is how the Walkmen write their songs. If it's not, then I can assure you and them that we would all be better off if they did. Visualize the possibilities, people. If what just popped into your heads isn't the definition of pure musical synergy, then I don't know what is. (Note: Miles wrote this for Ellen because she's super sick!)

Jennie Warren (Photo Editor)
J Dilla - The Shining
We have this music package that we have to put in our year end issue. I was searching for a cool 'urban' artist photo and came across J Dilla, whom I've never heard. But I do know the Pharcyde and A Tribe Called Quest. Shows how much i know bout hip and hop. Sad that he passed, but great album cover. I love the 70's reference mixed in with a touch of bling. And the gothic portrait in the gold frame is so good! Oh and the font is...hmmm...just yummy.

Chris disagrees whole-heartedly with my appreciation of Birds & Batteries, but I can't seem to shake my fascination with "Smoking the Filter." Delete the dance-ish tracks, and you have a song Richard Manuel (or actually, on second listen, probably Rick Danko) could've written (post-Band). Delete the vocals, and you have a pleasant instrumental electro track that's perfect for listening to on repeat all the live-long day. A must-listen for anyone stressed.

Also, when I caught these guys a few weeks back up at the Eagle Rock Sunday Night Bowling and Drinking Club, I couldn't stop from rubbing my feet together, as you do when you are a) sitting on the stage and b) filled with warm, fuzzy, wish-they-lived-here feelings. They're from San Francisco, but hopefully they'll be back soon.

So I'm a little late on this, but I went to go check out Cold War Kids at Detroit after the Weekly's Christmas party (on a stationary riverboat?) this past Saturday night.

It was the third time I've seen CWK at Detroit—and probably the last (I mean, really, at this rate, you kids can sell out the House of Blues... or bigger)—and, as always, it was... a good show.

Energetic. Interactive.

All that good stuff that's already been said about their live performance.

But the tightly packed-in crowd kind of lost its energy five or six songs into the set—and guess what? We didn't really deserve an encore.

(Apparently the band thought so, too.)

Anyway, the success story that is the Cold War Kids continues tonight at 11:30 p.m., when they'll be performing on CBS' the Late Show with David Letterman.

Yup.

Letterman.

Bikeride is BACK! New album, new shows, and an appearance on MOJO's March compilation (out in February). Let's check what the band has to say:

Well, we're happy to say we'll be participating in a Beatles Sargeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band covers record for MOJO magazine. It's to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the greatest album ever made. We'll be doing "Being For the Benefit of Mr. Kite", probably Lennon's trippiest song ever, and a perfect time capsule for 1967. It will be out in MOJO's March issue which will also coincide with Bikeride's release of The Kiss. Look for it on stands at the beginning of February.

On that note, the release of The Kiss has been moved back to March 6 to accomodate our biggest distributor, Red Eye. You'll also be able to buy it at Best Buy, Amazon, iTunes and all the other big ones (except Tower, RIP). As soon as it's in out hands MySpacers will be able to get an early copy. We'll also be selling it at our February 10th show at Di Piazza's. For locals, Fingerprints will be stocking it early too. We'll let you know.

AS FOR TONIGHT: Shopping. Duh. But if you like free drinks, there's Pabsts for $0 from 10 to 11 p.m. tonight at Avalon.

If you missed Listen Now! last night at eVOCAL, SHAME ON YOU. The benefit show for the homeless—the first of hopefully many that will be thrown by VAVAK and the folks at Listen Skateboards—was a full-on 10 on the friendship-and-love-and-happiness scale. Everyone was so, so, so nice: eVOCAL co-owner Damet; cute-as-a-button jewelry designer Sheva; silkscreen artist Ryan Bryant; even the lovely Costa Mesa-by-way-of-Texas-and-before-that-South-Africa man behind the bar who, I'm guessing, is related to the eVOCAL's other co-owner Brett and served every drink with a smile and a "Cheers!"

The spot itself is all open space and DIY graffiti/skate zen—a gallery-meets-boutique that's the prototype for what more than a few of us (myself included) would probably like to open someday. VAVAK played. At the end of the evening Ray Barbee took stage, and holding it all together was the best, most awesomest, raise-your-hand-if-you-like-indie-rock DJ I've ever heard, and whose name I did not catch. : (

Why the Weekly hasn't yet featured eVOCAL, I'm not sure. But look for a story on the store's Thursday night open jams soon. And in the meantime, give the store a visit. Last night I scored an awesome set of four mugs (pictured above) and also these three nifty knit pictures (pictured below). Perfect knick-knacks for those of the laid-back, everything's-coming-up-moss-and-riverrock-and-orange-and-yellow-sunsets state of mind.

Last year, the heads of the Literary Journalism Program at UCI sent out an email regarding an internship opportunity with Rolling Stone. That tempted me for about two seconds. Then I realized that it was Rolling Stone and that MTV Networks was slated to turn the whole thing into some awful reality program. That's how I want to jumpstart my journalism career!

A year later and their mass-media-clusterfuck is here in the form of I'm From Rolling Stone.The surefire guilty pleasure (okay, probably not) of all us snarky music types, I'm From Rolling Stone chronicles the paths of six walking stereotypes...err...umm...music journalism hopefuls: Krishtine, Peter, Krystal, Colin, Tika and Russell. I'll let you figure out the stereotypes yourselves. Much more fun that way. Trust me.

Now, normally I'm not one to judge (ha!) but I absolutely need to get something out into the open here. In case you can't tell already, this show is complete bullshit. Watch the show's preview video and you'll see the interns getting hit on by Atmosphere, interviewing Snoop Dogg and eyeing their bylines on some brand new MacBooks. Welcome to the Real World. But even better than the preview clip are the interns' profiles that are linked above. Let's take a look at Colin's answer to what his favorite concert moment was:

No. At Lollapalooza, Mooney Suzuki's singer, Sammy James Jr., smashed his head against the guitar. Blood was dripping down his face, and he looked at me, took off his sunglasses and handed them to me. It felt like time slowed down, I was so stoked. That was the show that I really knew I wanted to do something that related to music for the rest of my life because I just really saw the power of a live show and the power that can hold.

Then there's Krishtine's involvement with Bay Area hip-hop mag Ruckus:

I'm not going to try to be big-headed about it, but I feel like the fact that we created our own publication really helped the Bay Area music community reach its potential, because people that didn't understand it through the music could pick up our magazine and see aesthetically and culturally, all the aspects that they wouldn't be able to see without physically being here.

Thank god Rolling Stone is still a bastion of good taste because I don't know what I'd do without it. But you know what? I think I'm just bitter. If I wore bandanas or had a mustache and swirly blond hair, I could've been on that show too. Bummer.

I'm From Rolling Stone will air Sundays at 10 P.M. on MTV beginning January 7th.

Due to what seemingly was a last minute venue change (and not bad reporting), the show info at the end of Ziegler's piece on McCluer this week was incorrect in the print edition. The correct info can be found online in the story here.

In case you're not a fan of what Greg Stacy or Chris Ziegler had to say about gift-giving this week, then here's a quick note to let you know about some nifty holiday gifts for those loved ones of yours. First up? Couch guitar straps.

New Fidelity man Dan Perkins designs the straps, and currently they've got a great-looking line of silkscreened straps for not-too-much: $34.99 gets you the one pictured, and also? They're vegan. Nice.

First, it was the break-up of Dead Moon, whom you might remember from Oliver Hall's CD review a few weeks back. And today, we learned of the unfortunate passing of Shocking Blue lead singer Mariska Veres, whose stunning voice you might remember from the original version of "Venus." The band also recorded "Love Buzz," which most Nirvana fans know and love. My personal favorite, however, is "Rock in the Sea." Please, don't hunt the internet for free downloads. Go out and buy a best of Shocking Blue. They deserve it.

Going on hour eight of my hangover. Nice job, Griley! Way to double fist Jack-and-Cokes until you're plastered and slobbering! (But man, the Fielding demos sure sounded awesome cranked up to eleven on the way home. Don't worry ma, I wasn't driving.)

Anyway: woke up with a giant hangover this morning and quickly banged out a crappy review of the Paul Frank party. It ended up being completely re-written for this week's upcoming issue, but I thought a few tidbits of my o.g. version might be blog-worthy:

"Roughly 10 Jack-and-Cokes, two girl kisses and one colossal fight with my boyfriend later, I'm happy to report that I'm not only alive, but I'm not even puking! But that's about it. Wolfmother? They were okay; then again, I was on round three (two-by-two) by that point, and my "Woooooooman!" impression had evidently escaped my brain and was leaping out of my mouth every 5.6 seconds. Drunk people can be such shits. Wait.

Still drunk.

Anyway: I'd hoped for the Shins, prayed for the Flaming Lips, prepared myself for Beck, but in the end Paul Frank (the company, not the man) went with Wolfmother as their Special Surprise Guest for their annual Christmas party. And that's cool. Personally, I'm not in to them, but what with the kiddie choo-choo train, midgets, photo booth, camel, fake snow, real rain, Hot Dog on a Stick gals and wait-did-I-mention the wee little midgets running around (something had to top the elephants from last year's party) there was still plenty to keep me entertained. And by entertained, I mean wasted. P.S. Who the shit throws a holiday party on a Sunday?

The Shark That Ate My Friend was there, and the Acid Girls were, too. AND DID YOU KNOW that the Acid Girls—a.k.a. DJs Isochronal and Salinger, Avalon's resident Wednesday nighters—have something like 30 gigs lined up for January and February, and only three of them are not in London or France or somewhere else only accessible with a passport? I realize you probably don't care, but you should: Jamie (Iso) and Greg (Salinger) are super nice guys who (unlike your typical Vegas or Sutra wasteoids) have an arsenal of incredible smart, self-made remixes and have long been OC's best-kept secret. Be sure to check them out while you can still afford to.

In conclusion: Jack-and-Cokes=barf (literally, I just ralphed; actual IM transcript from five seconds ago: here comes the puke again. fortunately i'm typing this from the bathroom); Wolfmother=meh; Paul Frank=your friend. And this shit excuse for a live review? =over."
Did I say tidbits? I meant the whole thing.

ALSO: Save the OC.

A couple of weeks ago, I walked into the office and caught Steve belting out the chorus of "Love Will Tear Us Apart." As surreal and surprisingly awesome as it was, you astute readers out there will know that it was simply practice for his piece "Emotional Rescue," in which he explains why when we're down in the dumps, we shouldn't listen to Joy Division or Gordon Lightfoot, but clever and emotionally distant bands like Talking Heads and New Pornographers. I know I've never cried to Speaking in Tongues.

But what if you do want to wallow in some month-old memories or self-pity? What if you want to take all that pain, grab a bowl of popcorn and let a few pathetic tears salt those fluffy little bits of Jiffy Pop? Well, you're in luck, then, because I've compiled an entirely non-comprehensive list of some of my favorite sad songs (of indie rock!), all of which will surely stoke the flames of that depressed little fire you've got burning inside.

• Neutral Milk Hotel – "In the Aeroplane Over the Sea": Images of death and overwhelming beauty get me every time. And I have to admit, the second time I heard this song, my eyes welled up like a little baby. Yours probably will too.


• Mirah – "Mt. St. Helens": Failed love as volcanic explosion? Absolutely. And with Phil Elvrum handling the production, the song quickly turns into a bombastic, quaking tragedy. In a good way.


• Songs:Ohia – "Love Leaves Its Abusers": Jason Molina probably will never escape the Neil Young comparisons. But I can assure you that Neil isn't this tragic. Molina's bare guitar playing and haunting voice make for one of the most bitter, depressing tracks that I've ever heard. And I love it.


• Casiotone For The Painfully Alone – "I Love Creedence": Look. At. The. Band's. Name. Does this even need an explanation?


• Xiu Xiu – "Fast Car": Jamie Stewart's cover of the Tracy Chapman hit is somber and shaky, the hallmarks of any great Xiu Xiu song. Of course, not everyone loves Stewart's overdramatic warble, but this is one of his most delicate and beautiful efforts.


• Interpol - "Take You On A Cruise": Mild guilty pleasure! Not so much a tear-jerker as a plodding longing for love.


• Swan Lake - "All Fires": The song's lumbering beat and fuzzed-out guitars are perfect for its story of a tragic, sweeping flood. Somehow entirely depressing but strangely uplifting all at once.


• Björk - "5 Years": I couldn't resist this one. After all, there's no better way to finish a bitter, depressing list of songs than with a nice, confrontational Björk tune.

If you didn't know, bands don't like telling you what they sound like. Here's an example why: Let's say I play in a band, we're called "Stillborn Leper", and my boss asks me what we sound like, and I say "We're like a mix of Radiohead and The Velvet Underground, but our guitarist is really into The Pixies and Joy Division so sometimes we have a lot of post-punk going on, too." Stillborn Leper is, in all likeliness, a poorly executed teenage train wreck so godawfully bland it could sound like any band. Or, worse yet: a carbon copy of one of the aforementioned sacred cow bands. Summary: if you ask a band what they sound like, you're going to get a stumbling, awkward answer, if anything at all. It's a secret.

Take, for example, the Locust, of San Diego (If you haven't heard any of these bands, take a minute, click on the links and listen for a MULTI-MULTIMEDIA JOURNALISTIC CAVE DIVE). Their genre classification is fairly basic—punk/experimental/progressive. Punk because they're loud, I'd assume, experimental because they're . . . weird. And progressive because they have a keyboard player, I guess.

Not really that interesting, honestly. So lets take OC hype-wave riders Cold War Kids: Rock/Blues/Soul. Okay, the only thing worse than saying you play a style of music that's only come up in the last two years (ie: freak folk) is saying you play a style that came up at least 60 years before your oldest band member was born. It's the equivalent of Tom Delonge saying Box Car Racer's primarily influence was Fugazi. You're sure you weren't listening to any of those other fashionably sensitive three word bands, dick wad? Either Cold War Kids are trying to say they're so charmingly time warped that you start to wonder if you're listening to a reissue, or they're doing one of those "we're beyond classification" cop-outs, but more subtly.

However, the absolute most efficient and frank way of telling people your band is so original that they can't be defined is to use "other". There are two ways you can use the title—first, you can be like Matt Costa, and use "other" as an addendum to your first two picks; the least pretentious option. In this case, Costa apparently adds an unclassifiable new touch to the archaic formulas "indie" and "folk" are based on time and time again. OR you can go ahead and ditch those first two categories: your band completely falls outside the grasp of conventional definitions. For a perfect example of a band that perfectly fits this definition, look no further than She Wants Revenge: if they aren't a shining beacon of raw, never-before-seen creative energy, nobody is. Music is meaningless.

Franz Ferdinand, finally, brings us to the final category. They list themselves first as "glam" (whatever) then "indie" (of course they do) and finally crunk. Crunk?!? They aren't crunk! . . . ohhhhhhhhh, it's a joke! Here we have encountered the ironic MySpace genre label! They not only know how absurd the system is, they take it a step further in wanting YOU to know that they know how absurd it is. Necessary!

If I seem like I'm refusing to give anybody the thumbs up on a MySpace genre listing, then you've gotten my point. When you think about it, it's impossible to use those genre categories and not come off as a total self-indulgent idiot. I think I've decided that, from now on, I'm not going to shy away from people asking me what my band sounds like: "Yeah, we mostly play other."

Avalon Bar resident DJ duo Acid Girls (who--get this--are actually boys!) hit the Laguna Beach Art Museum tonight for a night of sweat and sauce. To get a better idea of what they're into, visit Isochronal's excellent blog.

ALSO! I love you. Sorry you were left at the bottom of the cd box for so long. [Thanks, lil' Z.]

TONIGHT! Members of Slowpolk play tonight at Table Ten in Fullerton. Let's listen to what Bekah has to say: "you can't miss this one... mr. erich wood will be playing along with danny and myself. he will be adding his wonderful guitar, bass and cello skills to slowpolk songs. also! he will opening the evening with some originals of his own... you will want to kill yourself if you don't make it. jonny will be behind the bar, as usual, providing many libations for all... hope to see everybody!"

WOAH, UPDATE!: The band is called Dead Ponies! That is heavy! (Thanks, lil' Z.)
Rumor has it: Robert Giampa (a.k.a., the man who's shot 1 squillion OC band photos) breaks on through to the other side, playing with, I'm told, a band that's called "something like Dig Pony" or something. No direct confirmation on this, since Detroit Bar doesn't list support acts for this month's resident band, Briertone. (Click at your own risk. I've never visited that page in me whole life.) Word is "Dig Pony" plays "heavy" shit. See you there at 10 p.m. with my very best red flats on! p.s. It's free.

Blue Cheer signing a boob.