So here it is on a Friday night, around 9 p.m. and I'm trying to break into the OC Weekly building. Which is locked. I had left something on my desk that I decided could not wait until Monday, but between all the construction going on and the fact that it's waaay after hours, there's no way I was getting in. After jumping around, trying every key I had (which is only 2, and one is to the bathroom), and trying to squeeze my fingers through the cracks between the doors, thinking it would somehow magically get the rest of me in, I gave up. Probably was about to get the cops called on me too. Damn. Nothing left to do but go down the street and get a beer, right? I mean, I was already there and trying to break into buildings can make a girl thirsty! So I went down the block to The Olde Ship to get a pint and admit my defeat.

It was packed, but I scored a hi-rise table near the bar. I wasn't there long before a man that kind of resembled my friends grandfather walked up to a large stand up bass. Oh yeah, they had live music, I remembered. He was joined immediately (OK, not immediately but at more of a slow shuffle) by a few more elderly gentleman who each proceeded to pick up an instrument.

What happened next blew my socks off. What can only be decades upon decades of musicianship came exploding from the tiny center stage and filled the room with the most precise and flawless jazz that was ever played in an English pub. The man on trombone played so skillfully and effortlessly, the kind of ease that makes someone say hey I could do that, Until you realize that no, no you cant.

I grabbed the waitress and asked who they were.

"They're called the BBC Jazz Band. Would you like some sticky pudding?"

Yes, I want some pudding. When are they here?

"Every Friday"

So go, this Friday, any Friday, have a pint and watch some jazz that can really be appreciated. These guys know their stuff, they've probably been doing it for 50 plus years. The sticky pudding is worth checking out, too.

I don't even remember what I had left on my desk.

The Olde Ship, 1120 W. 17th St., Santa Ana, (714) 550-6700

Strategy
Future Rock
(Kranky)
Release date: May 21, 2007

Curb Your Cynicism is a recurring blogtastic feature in which the music editor pithily enthuses about new releases and reissues he thinks will enhance your life and erode your cynicism about the state of music, circa now.

Strategy (Portland multi-instrumentalist Paul Dickow) is an omnivorous music aficionado whose passions spill into his own creations. As keyboardist for the bands Nudge and Fontanelle, he indulges his predilections for Can-style krautrock and heady/fusiony funk. In his solo guise as Strategy, Dickow forges lush melanges of ambient, dub, techno, house, IDM and even ruffneck ragga (see his contributions to Tigerbeat6's Shockout sublabel).

Back in 2004, Dickow told me in an interview with The Stranger: "The next Strategy CD is called Future Rock. I wanted to have an 'ambient' music that had the propulsion of rockin' dance tracks, soul, dub, rap, etc., so it's kind of like this washy cloud music where buried in the core is various fast rhythm music—some kind of guitar riff, or an electro break, or some other foreign element, and a strong dubbed-out soul component throughout." Three years later, the album's finally available to the public, and Dickow's kept his word.

Future Rock is a mongrel work that will frustrate purists and please those seeking hybrids of the aforementioned genres woven by a producer possessing masterly hands and ears. Strategy daubs the stereo field with diaphanous seagreen and aquamarine tones and fashions cushiony beats that will get you skanking in slow-motion, releasing your inner spliff-tokin', dreadlock-sportin' self. This is not so much Future Rock as pacific dub and tranquil techno gently locked in a ganja-smoke-hazed embrace. (Although "Sunfall [Interlude]" and "I Have to Do This Thing" sound like long-lost outtakes from My Bloody Valentine's Loveless.)

And you know what? Future Rock is so beautiful, it makes you believe that the expression "one love" isn't some mystical hippie jive, but actually an attainable goal. As Marc Bolan might say were he alive and stoned enough, gang a bong, get it on.

My chief complaint about the Black Keys is that they don't release something new every single day of the week, or go on month-long tours of my immediate neighborhood.

Thankfully, the Keys released a complimentary four-song live EP earlier this week via their Myspace page, free of charge. A small taste but a taste nonetheless.

On this tic-tac of a release is "No Trust," from their sophomore album, Thickfreakness, a pair from Rubber Factory, "Girl Is On My Mind," and "10am Automatic," and a dose of their latest effort and greatest departure, Magic Potion, comes in "Elevator."

All four songs were recorded and mixed by either Dan Auerbach (guitar) or Patrick Carney (drums) on their tour last fall, and represent a decent cross section of their catalogue, as much as such a small collection could accomplish anyway. I was fortunate enough to catch two shows on this tour, one in Hollywood, and a second in Tempe, AZ. Unfortunately the band has since been either overseas, or at Coachella, which is overseas from my wallet, so I am parched for a live show. It's nice to hear the people screaming behind an Auerbach riff once again.

While the Keys have managed to poke their head through the mainstream ceiling with appearances on Conan O'Brien, and endorsements from the likes of Rolling Stone and Robert Plant (who said he wanted to play bass for the duo), they are a relatively well-kept and treasured secret, especially among those who show up to the live shows, which are host to the unique sort of camaraderie only experienced by a group of people who are all hip to the vibe, so to speak. Why else would I drive to Arizona?

The new EP is the only live taste us OC folk are likely to get for a while, as they are back east and Midwest for at least the next couple of months. Wait patiently, and in the meantime, check it out at www.myspace.com/theblackkeys.

The Sea and Cake
Everybody
(Thrill Jockey)
Release date: May 8, 2007

Curb Your Cynicism is a recurring blogtastic feature in which the music editor pithily enthuses about new releases and reissues he thinks will enhance your life and erode your cynicism about the state of music, circa now.

The Sea and Cake never get ruffled. The Sea and Cake never raise their voices. The Sea and Cake wear white after Labor Day—and get away with it, because they have that much panache. The Sea and Cake are the suavest rock band (sonically) on the planet. The Sea and Cake = Steely Dan x Stereolab ÷ square root of Tortoise. The Sea and Cake have 2783 MySpace friends (as of today), which is just enough. The Sea and Cake make lounge music cohabit gracefully with motorik-rhythmed krautrock, which is harder to do than you would imagine. The Sea and Cake are both laid-back and anal-retentive, which is harder to be than you would imagine. The Sea and Cake don't sound like they're from Chicago, but rather from Southern California, due to their breezy, carefree style, which may make their appearance at Solana Beach's Belly Up Tavern a coals-to-Newcastle experience, but as coals-to-Newcastle experiences go, this one will be hard to beat. The Sea and Cake were boring the last time I saw them live in Cleveland, but a lot of bands save their most lackluster performances for Cleveland, so don't hold that against them.

The Sea and Cake's latest album, Everybody, is their seventh and second-best yet. Produced by Brian Paulson (Slint, Wilco) rather than drummer John McEntire, Everybody boasts a typically pristine and ideally feng shui'd sound. The Sea and Cake have undergone no radical deviations from previous Sea and Cake albums, though there are subtle gradient shifts. McEntire's impeccable stickwork is slightly more propulsive and insistent, but Sam Prekop still sings as if a sleeping baby's in the studio. "Exact to Me" features a really tricky time signature and complex interplay among guitarists Prekop and Archer Prewitt and bassist Eric Claridge that hints every so faintly at African highlife. "Left On" is probably the Sea and Cake's noisiest and most driving song to date, but it still won't raise eyebrows when it comes on over your coffeehouse's PA. The Sea and Cake are all about elegance and restraint, and living a champagne lifestyle on Kool-Aid wages.

The Sea and Cake play tonight with Robbers on High Street and Zincs at Belly Up Tavern, 143 S. Cedros, Solana Beach, 858-481-8140.

Skeletons and the Kings of All Cities
Lucas
(Ghostly International)
Release date: May 8, 2007

Curb Your Cynicism is a recurring blogtastic feature in which the music editor pithily enthuses about new releases and reissues he thinks will enhance your life and erode your cynicism about the state of music, circa now.

I hear thousands of new CDs and LPs every year. In any given 12-month period, the number of genuinely surprising, original releases can easily fit into a regular-sized backpack. I would include Lucas in that sack. When music leaves you this baffled and befuddled, you know you're in the presence of something special. All of which makes reviewing such a distinctive magnum opus very challenging. But here goes...

Imagine a polymath multi-instrumentalist who's ransacked the world's greatest brick-and-mortar and online record shops, digested their richest contents, and then tried to synthesize them all into crazy-quilt compositions designed for saturation airplay—on Neptune.

I realize that this description is still inadequate, but beads of blood are forming on my forehead as I try to come to grips with this ineffable sound. Skeletons and the King of All Cities are basically Matt Mehlan and a loose collective of musicians who operate on his lofty wavelength; they used to be Skeletons and the Girl-Faced Boys. The only thing he doesn't excel at is naming his projects.

He and his crew roil, sparkle, rumble, clank, and slither along the musical spectrum, accruing obscure influences from Africa, Asia, Europe, North America, and the ether. Maybe if Esperanto were music, it would sound like Skeletons. Maybe if Animal Collective covered Brian Eno/David Byrne's My Life in the Bush of Ghosts with Arthur Russell at the controls, it would sound like Skeletons. Neo-classical-prog-gamelan-soul-funk? All right, call it that if you want to hear a million record-store clerks' heads explode.

I know this sounds like hipster eclecticism run rampant, but Lucas is actually imbued with as much soul as anything from the minds of D'Angelo or Jamie Lidell. It's just composed of less obvious mannerisms and signifiers. As with the work of the late Arthur Russell, Skeletons finesse the esoteric into the accessible. Just don't ask me where to file their damned releases...

Lichens
Omns
(Kranky)
Release date: May 7, 2007

White/Lichens
White/Lichens
(Holy Mountain)
Release date: April 16, 2007

Curb Your Cynicism is a recurring blogtastic feature in which the music editor pithily enthuses about new releases and reissues he thinks will enhance your life and erode your cynicism about the state of music, circa now.

Lichens is Chicago musician Rob Lowe, whom you may know from his stints in 90 Day Men and a very popular band from NYC that's often compared to Pixies and Peter Gabriel. Those are fine groups and they undoubtedly help Lowe pay the bills, but to this listener, they serve as mere necessary distractions that allow the man to operate solo as Lichens, which seems to be his real reason for being on the planet.

Omns is Lichens' follow-up to his stunning debut LP, The Psychic Nature of Being (2005). His aim here seems to be generating as much spiritual chi as possible with only voice, piano/organ, guitar and judiciously deployed FX pedals. With Lichens, spiritual = spare ritual. Omns summons such masters of sonic profundity as minimalist composers Terry Riley and Morton Feldman, avant-garde vocalists Joan LaBarbara and Somei Satoh, free-jazz guitarist Sonny Sharrock, and a particularly soulful Tibetan monk who happens to own a few John Fahey LPs. This is music for people with long attention spans who spend an inordinate amount of time pondering infinity and their place in the universe. If you desire inner peace, you could do much worse than to listen to Lichens every morning as you down your shot of wheatgrass juice and go through your yoga asanas. (Omns also contains a DVD featuring a 28-minute live performance from 2006 at Chicago's Empty Bottle. As all Lichens shows are unique, this extra disc is a nice souvenir.)

White/Lichens finds Lowe collaborating with Matt Clark and Jeremy Lemos, a.k.a. White, and it's a very sympathetic match-up. All three heads seem to be arcing on the same astral plane and oscillating in supreme harmony. Over five tracks, White and Lichens launch eerie, starry-void-strafing drones that are too magnificent for any sci-fi-flick director to use. This is turbulent, lost-in-the-cosmos stuff, all shuddering scrapes, fibrillating wails, and scathing gusts of solar wind. Whereas Omns plumbed innermost, cerebral/spiritual realms, White/Lichens radiates outward in intense orbits of disorienting conflagration, especially the infernal 16-minute finale, "Bael," which seemingly fills the heavens with hellfire. Space may be deep, but White/Lichens damn near fill it up to the hilt.

AAM
Kraut Slut
(Static Discos)
Release date: May 8, 2007

Curb Your Cynicism is a recurring blogtastic feature in which the music editor pithily enthuses about new releases and reissues he thinks will enhance your life and erode your cynicism about the state of music, circa now.

Ah, Mexican techno. Huh? You don't know about the thriving techno scene south of the border? ¡Escucha, amigos! Tijuana in particular is booming with electronic musicians, and that fine city is the home base of Static Discos, Mexico's premier label for such adventurous sounds. I've yet to hear a weak release on Static, yet it hasn't really racked up the acclaim it should, perhaps due to its patchy distribution and relative isolation in Central America (though it has an office in San Diego, too).

AAM (Antiguo Autómata Mexicano, a.k.a. Angel Sánchez Borges) formerly played in Mex underground rock bands Superdrogas and Slow Motion Love, and also currently records as Seekers Who Are Lovers. None of which I've heard, but no matter, because AAM is the business. Similar to Jan Jelinek's recent work, Kraut Slut is not at all as crass as that title would lead you to believe (it's not a concept album about a Teutonic tart). Rather, it is an incredibly deep and cerebral exploration of minimal glitchy techno and early-'70s experimental German rock (two of my favorite styles, whaddaya know?). Sure, you're thinking, with dripping sarcasm: party central. But seriously, tracks like "All Styl," "Mitte," and "Co-opt (I.A. Bericochea Mix)" burble, bounce, throb, and percolate with pizazz; I can imagine them warming up a club crowd during a Ricardo Villalobos or Luciano DJ set—and you know how hard those hombres like to party.

Like the nachos most U.S.-based Mexican restaurants place on your table, Static Discos' releases entice you to consume them with obsessive gusto. I humbly suggest you start with Kraut Slut and make your way through the entire zesty back catalog.

Alex Delivery
Star Destroyer
(Jagjaguwar)
Release date: April 24, 2007

Curb Your Cynicism is a recurring blogtastic feature in which the music editor pithily enthuses about new releases and reissues he thinks will enhance your life and erode your cynicism about the state of music, circa now.

Okay, when your publicist slings around references like Can, Faust, and Arthur Russell in your press sheet (first sentence, no less), you had better be able to deliver the goods, or you're going to look mighty foolish—or you're going to need to hire a new publicist with a more pragmatic perspective. The flack goes on to name-check Terry Riley's Shri Camel (catnip to a critic like me), Sparks, and Dead C. Whoa, whoa, back up there, sport. This is what's known as over-egging the cake. Alex Delivery, a New York quintet, are releasing their debut album; no need to smother 'em with comparisons that create unrealistic expectations.

That being said, Star Destroyer is a distinctive-sounding disc that has a tendency to rev the motorik groove thang for extended sojourns down the autobahns of your hypnotized mind. So I can understand the Can/Faust comparisons, but Alex Delivery don't quite cruise with the same authority as those krautrock legends. What AD do excel at is the forging of guitar sounds that emulate rusty door hinges, hundreds of dollars in loose change clanking around a pickup truck, a knife-sharpening convention, and xylophones that have been left out in the rain. The group also has a deft way with wistful melodies, sort of like Neutral Milk Hotel, but thankfully without the whiny vocals. "Milan" represents the zenith of AD's quasi-orchestral melodic grandeur, and as a bonus, it's set to a skipping, mesmerizing rhythm that vaguely recalls Can's "Oh Yeah." "Scotty" is a WTF? tangent, some kind of weird blend of exploding kettle-drum cacophony and schmaltzy, waltzy, Tin Pan Alley-esque songcraft. "Sheath-Wet" is like Faust's "Krautrock" as interpreted by an ambitious orchestral-rock band who have heard, yes, Terry Riley, and understood that minimalist composer's ability to wring poignancy and power through repetition. "Vesna" closes the album with a Mercury Rev/Polyphonic Spree/Flaming Lips-ish flourish, a streamers-aflappin' finale of skewed, wide-screen pop.

All right, so maybe Alex Delivery do deserve the high-falutin' name-dropping. I'm just looking out for the their best interests. I hope they remember my act of kindness when they blow up and get a choice slot at Coachella next year.

Attention Orange County bands, DJs, promoters, club bookers: Do you have anything exceptional planned for this summer? New releases? New mixtapes? New club nights? Amazing bookings? The creation of a new genre?

Please let me know ASAP at dsegal@ocweekly.com. Thank you.

Curb Your Cynicism is a recurring blogtastic feature in which the music editor pithily enthuses about new releases and reissues he thinks will enhance your life and erode your cynicism about the state of music, circa now.

Grails
Burning Off Impurities
(Temporary Residence)
Release date: May 1, 2007

Portland quartet Grails reward your patience. Their singerless songs gradually unspool at a stately pace, conjuring exotic vistas that you won't see in tourism brochures, but rather in the hallucinogen-enhanced expressions of seers and psychonauts. Burning Off Impurities, the band's fourth album, is a supremely spacious record, subtly spiced with tamboura drones and string instruments that force you to hit Wikipedia to learn about their origins. The album's steered by one of underground rock's most inventive drummers, Emil Amos (he kept time, in a manner of speaking, for Jandek on the cult legend's last U.S. tour).

On Impurities, Grails tap into a mystical, majestic, psychedelic vein that alludes to the work of Germany's Popol Vuh and Agitation Free, Turkey's Edip Akbayram and Erkin Koray, and America's Scenic. Which is not to imply that Grails are merely replicating their awesome record collection. Rather, these influences are worn lightly and dashingly, and then whipped into a flavorful elixir of off-the-beaten-path soul massage, disguised as soundtrack music for that imaginary sequel to Alejandro Jodorowsky's desert-noir classic, El Topo. (You know music is special when it forces you to mix metaphors this ridiculously.)

Lest you think Impurities is all ethnodelic mellowness that you'll want to play at your next opium-den-themed party, "Origin-ing" provides some storm-the-temple, Morricone-meets-Cul De Sac tension and coruscating crescendoing. And if you can't accommodate some coruscating crescendoing in your life, then I truly pity you.

Impurities is a spiritual travelogue in sound played with nobility, finesse, and zeal by humble dudes from the Pacific Northwest. It is a rare thing to hear in 2007 and I applaud Grails' audacity to create something so out of step with our compressed-to-hell-MP3ed, puny-attention-spanned zeitgeist.