The Complete On the Corner Sessions boxed set recently came out to much fanfare, including my own hyperventilating blather on the subject here. (By the way, I noticed that Dusty Groove is selling the six-CD set for the reasonable sum of $127—a bargain for one of the greatest albums ever, plus bonus cuts galore and an indispensable, image-rich booklet.)

Below enjoy a teasingly truncated interview with a few of Miles' old band members from that creatively fertile era and then immerse yourself into the maelstrom of a performance from that stellar year of 1973. It's scarier than any Halloween mischief you'll be experiencing tonight.

Interview with Pete Cosey, Dave Liebman and Michael Henderson in Miles' old backyard

Badass electric Miles band footage from 1973

According to some of you out there (or at least one of you who rides a motorcycle) the Club Listings are lacking for those homosexually-inclined.

These are the gay clubs/lounges that regularly run in the paper (when space allows):

-Executive Suite
-Stiff Tuesdays at Proof
-Paradise
-Lucky Sundays at Tia Juana’s
-Mick & Mack’s
-Fun House at Frat House
-Beer Bust at Ripple’s

Being a straight girl, sometimes I miss the underground/little-known rainbow-friendly happenings.

So please, good people of Orange County, if you know a place where the bears are friendly and the go-go boys are fierce... let me know! And yes, the Boom Boom Room is STILL closed, so don't bother.

Thanks,
Erin
Clubs Editor
edewitt@ocweekly.com

*Due to a technical glitch, listings are drastically cut from our online calendar. Not to fear, it will be fixed soon!

Southern California indie label Gold Standard Laboratories announced it will be ceasing operations this month after 14 years of championing uncompromising underground music. Although GSL will stop releasing new music, it will continue to sell its gem-laden back catalog through Redeye Distribution/11spot.

A rationale for folding is offered on GSL's website, presumably by founder Sonny Kay (of the bands Angel Hair, the VSS and Year Future): “In recent years, we've experienced the onset of factors that have seriously limited our ability to maintain what we feel is the essence of the label; the experimental attitude and artistic freewheeling of times past are simply no longer sustainable. Rather than compromise our goals and beliefs, or allow our course to be charted by financial constraint and an industry in flux, we've decided the time has come for GSL to cease releasing new music, and to close this chapter of our story.”

Begun in Colorado in 1993, the LA-based label is best known as the home for the Mars Volta (their vinyl releases anyway) and that stadium-prog group's various satellite projects, including solo works by co-owner Omar Rodriguez-Lopez (he partnered with Kay in 2001). Other notable artists whose records have worn the GSL logo include Crime in Choir, the Rapture, !!!/Outhud, Anavan, the Locust, Gogogo Airheart, An Albatross and many others.

Tip: Pitchfork

Below is a video by one of GSL's better new artists, Crime in Choir.

Oh, sweet, sweet irony. Remember in the mid-'80s when major labels crowed about how the advent of compact discs would hasten the death of vinyl? A quarter century later, it looks like the (turn)tables are reversed: vinyl's popularity is resurgent while the CD's fortunes are looking as bleak as Iraq's, according to this article in Wired by Eliot Van Buskirk.

Vinyl's sonic superiority long has been an axiom among audiophiles and Neil Young; now the format's popularity is rising, along with sales of turntables. Buskirk writes:

Pressing plants are ramping up production, but where is the demand coming from? Why do so many people still love vinyl, even though its bulky, analog nature is anathema to everything music is supposed to be these days? Records, the vinyl evangelists will tell you, provide more of a connection between fans and artists. And many of today's music fans buy 180-gram vinyl LPs for home listening and MP3s for their portable devices.

"For many of us, and certainly for many of our artists, the vinyl is the true version of the release," said Matador's Patrick Amory. "The size and presence of the artwork, the division into sides, the better sound quality, above all the involvement and work the listener has to put in, all make it the format of choice for people who really care about music."

Matador and other labels have been including coupons in their vinyl releases that can be used to download MP3 versions of the songs. Amory says the coupon stratagem is "hugely popular."

Buskirk sounds a familiar refrain with this sentence: “Big labels still aren't buying the vinyl comeback, but it wouldn't be the first time the industry failed to identify a new trend in the music biz.”

And the boom times for fans of major-label schadenfreude continue apace...

While I hope vinyl continues to gain favor among all sorts of demographics, and not just with graying audiophiles and analog-purist DJs, I'm skeptical that it will happen in significant enough numbers to revive the music industry at a time when millions of people think they're "entitled" to get music for free.

Whatever the case, I do have a request: As someone who's moved thousands of records six times over the last five years, I sincerely hope somebody will start manufacturing quality wax that's not so damned heavy.

The Warlocks go deep.

Where will you find the area's most discerning drone/psych-rock aficionados tonight? At Alex's Bar in Long Beach, where Los Angeles' Warlocks and LB denizens Magic Lantern will be setting their FX boxes on STUN, PHASE, FLANGE, etc. The Warlocks come off like Brian Jonestown Massacre's heavier, trippier younger siblings and with more Spacemen 3 records in their collections. They combine dreamy melodies with hypno-mantric jamming, generating a potent, all-over aural buzz.

Magic Lantern blew my mind the first time I saw them at the Prospector September 8. I can't really add much more than what I posted in this live review on Heard Mentality. These gods of throb are one of the most mesmerizing bands working in this region; they're true psychonauts who understand that the power of repetition is best manifested when it's done with transcendental transport as its goal. Listen to their holy blissin'.

Avenged Sevenfold is playing a secret show tonight (Friday 10/26) at the Slidebar in Fullerton.
Sometime around 9ish.
No cover.

122 E. Commonwealth Ave., Fullerton, 92832.

The Detroit Bar in Costa Mesa was rocked to the foundations Wednesday night as the Melvins and their entourage plowed through town. Visual artist Dalek’s animated short, A Purge of Dissidents, kicked things off by injecting a healthy dose of vitamin weird into the mix.

The film ran for about 20 minutes as it followed the exploits of demented, cycloptic mouse-like things (known as “Space Monkeys”) that have a knack for producing knives out of nowhere in order to stab themselves and other characters. Oh, and did I mention they bleed a lot? Because they do (we’re talking lakes of blood); think Itchy and Scratchy on acid. A Purge of Dissidents is essentially a collage of 10 episodes with titles such as “The Antichrist,” “The Emperor Smokes Crack” and “The GOP Will Set Me Free.” It is a walk into the abstract and demented imagination of Dalek, and it served as an appetizer for the main course.

Cruising down to Costa Mesa tonight are Joshua Tree's Gram Rabbit, a slinky electro-pop duo (Jesika Von Rabbit and Todd Rutherford) whose songs are all gleaming surfaces and curvy contours. Jesika imbues the quasi-funky backdrops with seductively creamy vocals and glam-diva hauteur. Attention, Devo fans: “Hot Spit” off Gram Rabbit's new album, Radio Angel & the Robot Beat, is a clever, wide-screen homage to that band's iconic 1980 hit “Whip It.”

You can catch a glimpse of the Gram Rabbit live experience in the video [see below] for “In My Book,” filmed during the band’s September residency at Spaceland.

Also on this strong bill are Pity Party, Repeater, and DJs Velvet Touch and Clamor.

Melvins' Buzz Osborne, redefining "hair metal."

I'll make this brief because intern Alex Vallejo will be posting a more exhaustive report later today, but I just wanted to say that underground-metal masters Melvins came, saw and conked our noggins with their patented planet-shifting sound. No surprise there.

However, what was surprising was Melvins' cover of the Beatles' “I Want to Hold Your Hand,” which they dispensed with poker faces and terseness early in their hour-plus set. Of the billions of songs in the universe, this 1963 smash hit is far down on the list I'd expect this LA quartet to tackle. But it worked through the sheer unexpected absurdity of it all.

Having dual drumming commandos Dale Crover and Coady Willis (also of opening group Big Business) is almost like fielding John Bonham and Bill Ward in your engine room. These studly sticksmen play with astounding power and finesse; they put on a freakin' drumming seminar up there. Guitarist/vocalist Buzz Osbourne and bassist Jared Warren (also of opening group Big Business) generate an incredibly low-slung, girthful sound that substantially ups your testosterone levels, but not assholistically so. It's a sound that makes you wish you could bubble-wrap your internal organs.

It was a fuggin' sausage party in the crowd, which was full of beefy, tattooed white guys in black T-shirts. Their (mostly) unmoronic machismo matched that of the robust dark metal coming from the band.

Friday's VR show at the Verizon Wireless (Irvine Meadows) Amphitheater has been canceled due to ongoing fire-related health concerns. The show, with Alice in Chains and Sparta, was to be band's final U.S. gig before stops in Japan and Australia.

A Live Nation rep said the show has been *tentatively* rescheduled for December 12 at the Gibson Amphitheater, meaning a trek up to Universal City for O.C. fans of Scott Weiland, Slash, and Co.

OC Weekly freelancer Oliver Hall details in this week's issue why you should risk a significant portion of your hearing and sanity and attend the Melvins/Big Business show tonight at Detroit Bar. I will merely add that this gig will give you maximum bang for your sludge-metal buck. Plus, Melvins front man King Buzzo has the best hair and some of the funniest stage banter in rock.

Bring earplugs or spend the rest of your damned life shouting "What?!" to the annoyance of everyone everywhere.

Here's some live footage of "Civilized Worm."

Many moons ago, I wrote mucho music reviews for the Weekly. The one I still get e-mail about years later was my 2002 take on why Latinos love Morrissey so much. I included the essay in my recent ¡Ask a Mexican! book, meaning people now know why you can reduce many cholos to quivering pussies by blasting "This Charming Man" or "The Headmaster Ritual."

One of the fans I interviewed for the piece was Patricia Godinez, a lecturer with the English department at Cal State Fullerton. Today, Godinez e-mailed me to reveal that she was interviewed by Kobra, a culture show in Sweden, about her Latin love for Morrissey after reading the Weekly's article. Watch the clip here (Godinez is the lovely lady interviewed about a minute into the clip), and skoal!

The new 12-song album is set to come out....

January 29, 2008.

Sigh.

For those who have been anxiously waiting since 2006's Amputechture, this is going to be a looong 3 months.

But if you need an M.V. fix, here's a live performance of "Roulette Dares (The Haunt Of)".

The BBC reports that British and Dutch police today have shut down the popular and flagrantly illegal music-downloading site OiNK and arrested its overlord, a 24-year-old man from Middlesbrough, England. That sound you hear is the celebratory high-5ing of major-label employees worldwide and Metallica.

OiNK's ringleader, who works for a multi-national corporation, “is being questioned on suspicion of conspiracy to defraud and infringement of copyright law,” the article states. OiNK's Amsterdam-based servers were seized in raids last week. The site—which had leaked 60 major-label albums before their release dates this year—had 180,000 paid members.

An International Federation of the Phonographic Industry (IFPI) spokesman commented: "Once an album had been posted on the OiNK website, the users that download that music then passed the content to other websites, forums and blogs, where multiple copies were made.

"Within a few hours of a popular pre-release track being posted on the OiNK site, hundreds of copies can be found further down the illegal online supply chain."

mtv.com relates that industry estimates show a third decrease in sales in the last six years. The defeat of OiNK may be a temporary boon for major labels, but until they start releasing better product, stop litigating against consumers, intelligently adapt to new technologies and figure out how to service an evolving customer base without alienating it, this development shouldn't make them overly complacent or giddy.

* The use of the derogatory term “pigs” is strictly for pun-worthy purposes. I respect our police forces and would never imply that they have porcine attributes.

Black Lips stoke the crowd. Photo by Will Tee Yang.

Maybe it was the gusty Santa Ana winds and nearby raging fires that made the air smell like civilization was being barbecued. Maybe it was Black Lips' reputation for rowdy, bodily-fluid-spewing live shows. Whatever the case, large segments of the crowd at Detroit Bar for the Atlanta foursome were going off the rails something fierce. From the first song onward, a rugby match (sans ball, but with many nuts) broke out stage front, as hyperactive bodies collided with the reckless abandon of people who possess no medical insurance.

One would hazard that security escorted more customers out of the club last night than they have in the history of all Detroit Bar concerts combined. Some lame fool threw a glass that hit Lips drummer Joe Bradley in the forehead, drawing blood and much tub-thumper ire. Bradley announced that he wanted to have a serious discussion with said idjit after the show. Detroit co-owner Jon Reiser observed this gig's mosh pit was the most rambunctious he's ever seen at the venue. “Melvins, Helmet—those shows were totally chill compared to this,” he said as we watched another manchild get hustled out of the club.

But how was the music? It was rousing, mildly psychedelic, solidly rootsy garage rock with generous hooks and winning sing-along choruses. These Southern dudes emit a good energy onstage, so it was surprising that their music inspired so much rough-housing. To me, it sounds more like enjoyably retro party music for people who unashamedly wear paisley shirts and pray to Roky Erickson every night before bed. It certainly doesn't come off like the soundtrack to making bouncers sweat profusely and provoking audience members turning drinking vessels into missiles.

Perhaps that acrid aroma was actually surplus testosterone...

Black Lips, Live in Tijuana

Gore Gore Girls' Gretsches are pleasure units.

Wow—this was the most deadass crowd I’ve ever seen on a Friday night (and I’ve seen a lot of Friday night crowds). Looking like dull-eyed corporate drones failing to seem engaged at a meaningless staff meeting, the audience at the Galaxy mostly sat on their dead asses and stared vacantly at one of the country’s most entertaining garage-rock groups, Detroit’s Gore Gore Girls. You could sense the quartet’s frustration at playing before such unresponsive folks, but it only seemed to spur them to intensify their attack. That’s some raucous, Motor City raw cussedness right there.

Wearing go-go boots, patent-leather mini dresses that revealed glittery silver and white panties (my journalism degree did not go to waste after all), GGG ground out scorching songs that reinvented that high-mileaged gay-raj-rok wheel with a Russ Meyer-starlet panache and punch. The immediacy and hookiness of GGG’s material would seem to make it a natural catalyst for instant aural gratification and loose-limbed revelry. But no. Most of the Galaxy’s customers weren’t budging from their moderately comfy seats.

Alpha-woman singer/guitarist Amy Gore witnessed the staid crowd and said, “I wanna lubricate what you got down there”; thereafter things perked up a bit, but still not to usual Friday-night standards. With songs like “Loaded Heart,” “Sweet Potato,” “You Lied to Me Before,” “Astral Man,” “I’m All Grown Up” and that one whose primary riff alluded to the Stooges’ “Loose,” GGG strove mightily to crumble the stony wall of tepid the audience had erected and they made some progress, especially after Amy ventured into the medium-sized gathering near the stage to rustle up some energy.

GGG’s riffs sounds as familiar as those on any Nuggets comp, but, amazingly, they imbue vigorous life into them. The final song ended with a thrilling series of crescendos and false endings. In response, the majority of the punters looked worried about their mortgage payments.

We've got 10 pairs of tickets to the Blonde Redhead show at Anaheim's House of Blues for Friday, October 26th at 8 p.m.

Want 'em?

E-mail ocpromotions AT ocweekly DOT com with your NAME, AGE, and PHONE NUMBER. Venue is 16+ without a guardian.

Details here.

Last night at Kitsch Bar in Costa Mesa, DJ aDJective (Steve Fisch) transitioned from the Kingston Trio's “Where Have All the Flowers Gone” (dewy, earnest folk song from 1962) to Public Enemy's “Public Enemy No. 1” (hard-as-nails, toughness-flaunting rap track from 1987). Damn. That's some ballsy whimsy right there.

(You can catch aDJective spinning at Kitsch on Thursday and Friday nights and at Memphis at the Santora on Saturdays.)

While at venues where dance floors must be filled it may be impractical to swing so wildly among genres, more DJs should attempt this absurd non-sequitur style of spinning. Predictability is the bane of most club nights.

Below see video evidence of the songs under discussion.

“Where Have All the Flowers Gone?”

“Public Enemy #1”

Aside from the fact that it took some people an hour and a half to get in last night, Glam is actually a pretty fun nightclub.

I could’ve sworn the flier said Glam opened at 9, but according to the looong-ass line when I showed up, the club didn’t open till 10.

All the people in line had rsvp’d to avoid paying the cover, which was $20 (damn!). I always appreciate a club willing to do that (wave the cover charge), because hey, I’m going to spend twice that at the bar.

Well, then the DJ didn’t show up.
Which meant 10 got pushed back to 10:45.
Which meant some poor souls were waiting well over an hour. In 4 inch heels.

Except those willing to shell out a Jackson, those people got right in. Very clever...

Anyways, once everybody got through the door it was a great party.

The DJ (once he finally showed) spun fun, energetic tracks like J Kwon’s Tipsy, Kelis’ Bossy and that one song I thought was called White Girl but I guess not. If anyone knows what it's really called, let me know.

Unlike other DJs I’ve witnessed, he was fast to know when a song worked or didn’t. Some songs like Limp Bizkit’s Faith didn’t last more than a verse (or maybe that one was a joke).

Two dance floors equipped with poles and raised platforms provided plenty of room for people to get their freak on.

And then there were the strippers. Excuse me, go go dancers.

And the regular girls who liked to pretend they were stri... go go dancers.

No no, it was all in good fun. See the pictures here.

The drinks were stiff and decently priced, well-drinks were something like 6 bucks and heavy on the booze. Bartenders were quick on their game, I never had to wait long.

Then I noticed the blue neon sign reading “Tacos” in the corner of the club. Upon investigating, I discovered that for a measly $1.50, you could get a bomb little carne asada taco with cilantro and fiery salsa. Brilliant! More clubs should offer noshings like this.

In conclusion, Glam is definitely a place to check out if you’re in Anaheim any given Thursday, but show up late so you don’t have to wait in line.

Glam is held every Thursday at JC Fandango’s 1086 N. State College, Anaheim

OC photographer Christopher Victorio dropped by the Wiltern in LA last night to shoot Jimmy Eat World. He says he had a blast, though it was rather difficult to get his photos in with a rather large redheaded lady bouncing around in front of him.

The group will be at the Anaheim House of Blues Thursday.

Click the photo for more shots.

Video subversives Wreck and Salvage have taken the cheerful inanity of most TV ads and transformed them into hypnotic, creepy mantras that recall the early work of avant-garde composer Steve Reich. Just try not to view this more than once. Damn—you're hooked, sucka!

Hat tip to Joel Pryde.

Call and Response from wreckandsalvage on Vimeo.

Sunday at Plush Cafe in Fullerton, I had the unexpected pleasure of witnessing the breakdancing skills of Riverside's Do-Knock. I'd come to this intimate spot to check Chris “Urthworm” Alfaro's DJ set, and he duly impressed with his excellent, unobvious selections (Shocking Blue's “Love Buzz” the Doors' “Peace Frog,” couple of Jungle Brothers' and Specials' joints, Funkadelic's “One Nation Under a Groove,” ESG's “Dance” and many more juicy jams that spurred much popping and locking).

About a half dozen dudes busted some impressive moves, but one clearly rose above the spinning masses: Do-Knock, of the Battle Monkeys crew. Apparently, this Inland Empire B-boy has won three Star Search competitions, but since I never watch TV, I'd been oblivious to this fact. So Señor Knock gave me and a solid, enthusiastic crowd a crash course on his acrobatic repertoire, and he had my head spinning. I've seen a lot of breaking in my day, but this guy moved with a spellbinding swiftness and Olympic-gymnast efficiency and power that surpassed anything I've ever observed, even in New York City's parks.

Below is a highlight reel of Do-Knock's stuff, but, seriously, I think he outdid many of these stunts at Plush, with nothing at stake but his pride. Mofo is a pure, wicked showman. I felt privileged to be mere feet away from this rhythmic dynamo's whirligig feet and super-human feats.

Update: Click the image for photos from the Rilo Kiley show.

It was a wonderful evening at The Grove of Anaheim: lady lead singers with incredible voices and endless musical talents – backed by the boys who love them. Grand Ole Party jolted the evening forward with cutie pie, Kristen Gundred owning the shit out of her drum set and with a killer Karen O-esque voice to boot! Later she would play percussion flawlessly alongside Rilo Kiley for a couple of songs.

The Bird and the Bee created a musical fairytale, complete with a bubble making machine, dissolving to the haunting melody of Inara George’s sensual voice and Greg Kurstin’s magical keyboardin’ fingers. One minute lamenting over the agony of a very, very, very broken heart – then shifting to a straight forward question of, “would you ever be my fucking boyfriend?” With such a charming and loungey sweetness it might take you by surprise (perhaps) to hear the word “fucking” embedded so breathlessly within. Inara was charming between songs, apologizing for being so “slow” but blamed it on the fact that she was in Vegas the night before. The throngs of underage indie kids tilted their heads indifferently to one side in bewilderment and maybe Inara realized this when all of her “big kid jokes” fell flat. “I can hear the dust in the wind…” she giggled.

Sigh.

And Rilo Kiley? I’m still in the recovery process! The onstage chemistry of Jenny Lewis and Blake Sennett was more than apparent. Cowbells, giant balloons filled with confetti – and um – Dolly Parton?Amazing performers who dazzled everyone with songs from their fourth album, Under the Blacklight, along with a handful of their classics. Yes sir, Rilo Kiley is enough to make even the indiest of indie kids shift slightly with a feeling of powerful emotion!

“They were like, you know, amazing or whatever.”
“Totally.”
“But like, who is Dolly Parton?”
“I don’t know, man.”

Double sigh…

DJ Chaz moved the crowd and worked a mean air horn.

Friday Oct. 12 at Santa Ana’s Proof Bar, the monthly Get Yer Hands Dirty night went off with several bangs. But the indoor/outdoor party suffered a setback when police pulled the plug on the back patio outdoor stage due to a neighbor’s noise complaint. (I too had a noise complaint, more of which later.)

Nevertheless, the revelry continued inside (and folks continued to socialize and smoke outside with a passion that must’ve pleased the Camel reps peddling their vile product) with New York’s Charles "Chaz" Requina, L.A.’s Gina Turner and Louisahhh and others unveiling A-list tracks guaranteed to hype crowds. Federico Franchi’s “Cream” (anthem of 2007—sorry Justice) made its expected appearance, proving that it never fails to elevate moods and increase dance-floor activity. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of it [see/hear the amazingly inventive video below].

Peak-time bangers (including much Daft Punk) prevailed, with frequent air-horn blasts. Note to DJs: air horns won’t overcompensate for mediocre selections and said toy should be used sparingly; diminishing returns, etc. Something’s wrong when I remember your air horn’s annoying eeee-waaaaaah more than your cuts. Still, as a soundtrack for mad dancing, excessive drinking and snorting, and blacking out in strange beds, Get Yer Hands Dirty was a smashing success.

However, the night had some more sour notes, as someone walked off with promoter/DJ Dan Sena’s Technics headphones and I spilled a full bottle of beer (not mine; sorry!) on myself. The eau de Corona on my person did not help me in the strange bed department, I’m sorry to report.

Much-hyped Euro-folk reviver Beirut plays a free show tonight at the Hollywood Amoeba Records at 6:30 p.m. He'll be supporting his new album The Flying Club Cup (Ba Da Bing), which OC Weekly reviewed here. Amoeba is located at 6400 Sunset Blvd. (323-245-6400).

In the meantime, enjoy this video of Beirut's "Elephant Gun."

Hurry! You immediately have to read OC Weekly freelancer Ned Raggett's review of In Rainbows, which will be running in our print edition next week; we thought you'd want to get an advance peek at what he has to say, as Radiohead's new album is the most important thing in the world this week.

Also, check out my VVM colleague/Riverfront Times music editor Annie Zaleski's late-night first impressions of In Rainbows.

Finally, do yourself a favor and read this wry history of musicians giving away their music... for free by LA Weekly's Randall Roberts.

Radiohead
In Rainbows
(www.radiohead.com)

After engineering the most attention-getting release news in a long while, Radiohead could—almost—be forgiven if the album itself turned out to be less than all that. Thankfully, that's not the case. In Rainbows, the group's seventh full-length, is not as much of a break with its past as Kid A, but neither is it the familiar recapitulation of its malleable sound like Hail to the Thief. Each song stands well on its own and there's plenty of low-key surprises in the mix, from cheering children to sudden rhythm bursts and time shifts.

In some cases the quintet looks to earlier styles—"Bodysnatchers" is a stirring take on the futuristic chug of krautrock legends like Neu!, the band's semi-signature chunky guitar blasts in full effect for the only time on the album, while "Weird Fish/Arpeggi" blends a quieter but no less quick take on that with hints of Philip Glass/Steve Reich minimalism, notes overlapping in a beautiful cascade. Elsewhere they show that this the 21st century rather than the 20th. "15 Step" finds drummer Phil Selway going off on acoustic and electronic beats that could easily have been hitting the charts in recent times (they'll surely be used on mixtapes before the year is out).

In Rainbows' overall feeling, though, is one of contemplative and lyrically direct fragility, with the type of ballads that are stadium-friendly—"House of Cards" being the standout, Thom Yorke's voice echoing over a gentle melody and deep feedback squalls—without feeling like hollow wave-your-lighter demonstrations. "Nude," finally appearing in studio form after years of irregular live appearances, is the kind of late-night-in-the-jazz-bar treat for which the band has always had a fondness, while the bass-heavy lope of the barbed "All I Need" and the glazed beauty of "Reckoner"—perhaps the best tribute to the elegant sound of Talk Talk circa Laughing Stock yet recorded—both succeed wonderfully. Yorke's can't-miss singing is as lovely as ever, as are the many other sonic details the eventual double-CD release will further showcase. But for now, as an immediately enjoyable release that justifies the whirlwind of hype as well as a blueprint of the economic road many musicians may travel in the future, In Rainbows is a quiet triumph.

Our latest Locals Only feature by Erin DeWitt on Santa Ana-based venue The Clinic, which was full of positive quotes by OC musicians, inspired the letter below (all of which is reprinted here unedited).

The clinic is one of the worst venues that i've been to in my life. All these claims of "punk" are lies and the term "Punk" should not be associated with the clinic. It was never started as a punk venue, it was started as a venue strictly dedicated to the "noise" genre.

They claim to be a punk venue but how could they be this when they ban bands that speak their mind. What ever happend to "free speach"? Obviously its not welcomed at the clinic. It is a place run by kids that are governed by highschool politics. "If we don't like you, you don't play. If we don't like what you say about us, you don't play" Punk rock, i think not.

This venue is all about the $$ and that is very sad. They've screwed numerous bands and fans out of good shows. If you don't play bu their rules, they cut your set to 5minutes and don't care if the crowd paid to see you.

A "no booze" vene? i think not, you mean a no booze venue for the people, yet i have counted numerous times the "security" guards chugging some coronas in the back.

I think you should speak to alot more of the bands that have played there that have had a negative experience with the clinic. The clinic isn't so great, it may be all Santa Ana has, but i'd take the drama of a backyard party any day to the clinics hidden agend and highschool politics any day. A venue dedicated to bringing bands for the youth of santa ana, but yet they deprive many of Santa Ana's up and comming bands of playing at the clinic. Bands that are not wanted their becuase the owners of the clinic feel that a certain band won't bring them enough $$$. Because in the end, thats what the clinic wants. Since when was punk about the $$$. A bunch of sell outs in my opinion. Punks, i don't think so. A bunch of sad idie kids trying to bring their crappy noise music to the masses.

Whew! Strong charges. This reader/scenester obviously paints a very different picture than that portrayed in our column. So I'm asking bands that have played The Clinic to respond to her accusations. Did The Clinic treat you like dirt or with respect? Are the guys who run the joint money-grubbing douchebags or altruistic supporters of OC's all-ages punk scene? Or are they something else altogether? If you're simply someone who attends shows at The Clinic, feel free to relate your experiences there.

Sound off in the comments box, pronto! Thanks.

The album that launched Left Coast gangsta rap into white suburban consciousness and mainstream culture, N.W.A.'s Straight Outta Compton, will be reissued Dec. 4 with a bonus live track and covers by Bone Thugs-N-Harmony, Snoop Dogg and C-Murder, Mack 10, and WC to anticipate its 20th anniversary. Marked by more profanity than a Richard Pryor LP and provoking almost as many laughs as same, Compton established Dr. Dre as a production savant, Ice Cube as a lyrical humorist par excellence and Eazy-E as an entertaining, if occasionally risible, braggart.

I remember when Compton came out; I played the hell out of my cassette copy and, despite verses that celebrated all types of anti-social actions and un-PC behavior, I continued to live a law-abiding, woman-respecting existence. I also note that Western (and Eastern) civilization did not crumble, even as Compton went double-platinum. Although Eazy died of AIDS in 1995, Dre and Cube live lives of creative productivity and social respectability and can buy all of you many times over (MC Ren, DJ Yella and the rest have faded into oblivion). Political pundits, social critics, Tipper Gore's PMRC and worrywarts of all stripes—proved wrong again.

In other news, police officers nationwide are uttering their own stream of curse words into their donuts over this development.

You can read the press release after the jump.

Ulrich Schnauss, pimping his Ride.

Based on the disappointing Goodbye album, I had little hope that German laptop/shoegaze practitioner Ulrich Schnauss' live show would impress me. So I'm happy to report that Uli far exceeded my expectations.

Performing solo in front of scintillating nature footage and vividly piquant abstract and figurative imagery, Schnauss generated a much punchier and dynamic sound than that found on Goodbye. The droning shoegaze textures seemed grittier and more turbulent than on disc and the beats skittered more dynamically and robustly. Gone were Goodbye's saccharine and pastel tones; present were deeper and more psychedelic hues. Instead of taking an Enya-fied Slowdive, we got a wild Ride on the Lush side (please indulge me my shoegazer-rock punsmithery, just this once). Schnauss seemed to be going out of his way to create harsh emissions on a few of the tracks, as if to combat the accusations of New Age tendencies he'd been receiving in some reviews. (Who knew I'd need earplugs at an Ulrich Schnauss gig?)

Live, Schnauss regained his backbone and erected some transcendental trance-outs, and the large crowd responded with restrained enthusiasm (it was a Sunday night, after all). The personable producer isn't revolutionizing the subgenre, but he is administering subtle enhancements to a form that could use some adventurous tweaks. We can't wait forever for Kevin Shields to return to the fray, right?

White Rainbow
Prism of Eternal Now
(Kranky)
Release date: October 1, 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.

White Rainbow is manifested in Portland, Oregon by one Adam Forkner, who previously expanded minds in Yume Bitsu and Surface of Eceyon; he's also sat in on recordings with Devendra Banhart, Jackie-O Motherfucker and Dirty Projectors. All of these facts should have your Pavlovian Psychodelik meter frantically ding-dinging right about now.

As the glorious title Prism of Eternal Now hints, Forkner aims to transport you to a dimension where clocks are rendered useless and you become blissfully ensnared in a translucent web of shimmering guitars, synths and treated vocals. Your mind trip to this exalted state is further enhanced by chimes, gongs, octave generators, shakers, tablas, water jugs and computers equipped with the philosopher's stone instead of silicon.

Prism of Eternal Now is for folks who have pretty much purged the need to “rock” from their systems (or who simply want a respite from it for a while) and who wish to vibrate on a higher frequency, but without the hokey New Age accouterments. “For Terry” is a pitch-perfect homage to the innovative minimalist composer Terry Riley (especially his timeless A Rainbow in Curved Air), which gives you an idea of the lofty brain-massaging and meditative grandeur for which Forkner is striving. “Mystic Prism” soars into a sun-dazzled, secular holy zone previously only inhabited by Popol Vuh. “Warm Clicked Fruit” recalls the intimate glitch-and-miasma electronica of ambient artists like Loscil and Shuttle358. “Guitar” is a profound exploration into that instrument's capacity to evoke the aum/hum of the universal generator that keeps this world spinning. That it seems to be whirling off its axis toward the end could be Forkner's subtle commentary on global events—or maybe it's just me over-analyzing a wonderful instrumental track.

Prism of Eternal Now concludes with “Awakening,” a diaphanous sighing of angels tinted with the slightest premonition of unease. It's like a tremulous cry of hope against a backdrop of imminent catastrophe, a glimmer of peace before it all gets grimmer.

Well, it's nice to know that someone at the Anaheim House of Blues reads Heard Mentality. How else to explain—after we pointed out in a previous blog post Disney's disgusting hypocrisy over selectively banning some metal shows while allowing others—that they've now gone ahead and scrubbed the gigs we mentioned outright, including the April 27 King Diamond concert, which has now been shifted to the Galaxy Theater?

Won't somebody just walk up to the HOB box office and drop a big, steamy turd there to let them know how you feel about their silly, idiotic new policy? Better: won't somebody from the HOB contact us and let us know the story behind this lunacy instead of playing a childish “no comment” game? I'm at rkane@ocweekly.com, and I'm waiting by my keyboard....

Pitchfork reports that Staten Island hip-hop superheroes Wu-Tang Clan have become the first group to clear a Beatles sample legitimately. The George Harrison-authored “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” will appear in “Gently Weeps,” off the Wu's forthcoming album The 8 Diagrams (now pushed from Nov. 13 to Dec. 4). The track features Harrison's son Dhani and Red Hot Chili Pepper John Frusciante playing guitars (tear content currently unknown).

Wu-Tang Clan play a Los Angeles venue to be announced Nov. 17.

Here's a video of George and famous, talented pals jamming out "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" at the 1971 Concert for Bangladesh.

Shadows Fall: Tabooed off the stage by Disney.

Two dates on Shadows Fall's upcoming Operation Annihilation tour with Static X have been canceled. Both were to occur at House of Blues venues located on property owned by the Walt Disney company. The Oct. 20 date scheduled at House of Blues in Orlando, FL has been canceled, and the Oct. 31 gig has moved from Anaheim's House of Blues to the Galaxy Theatre in Santa Ana.

Shadows Fall vocalist Brian Fair said in a statement: "We have been informed that the Disney company has decided to cancel our upcoming shows taking place at the House Of Blues venues located on Disney property in both Anaheim, CA, and Orlando, FL. This is a huge disappointment for us as we have always had amazing sold out shows at both clubs in the past. Our apologies to all of the affected fans, especially to those in Orlando - we'll get back there as soon as we can."

Tickets for the Oct. 31 Anaheim HOB show will now be honored at the Galaxy.

Radiohead drink to a (potentially) new record-industry paradigm.

As everyone with an Internet connection knows by now, Radiohead will release the follow-up to 2003's Hail to the Thief, titled In Rainbows, on Oct. 10. In a crushing blow for music journalists everywhere, no advances will be supplied; we wretched scribes will have to wait until the digital release date to hear the album, like... common folk. The indignity of it all.

On Dec. 3, CD and vinyl versions of In Rainbows will become available for the princely sum of £40 (about $82). To download the album, you can pay whatever you wish, or nothing at all—seriously.

Radiohead appear to be releasing In Rainbows with no aid from a record company; their contract with EMI/Capitol ended after Hail to the Thief. This new approach could signal a paradigm shift in the way wealthy, established bands operate. Major label execs will be closely watching how Radiohead's ploy plays out—and likely increasing their Valium intake.

For more details, point your browser to Radiohead's official website and/or read Ethan Smith's article in the Wall Street Journal (?!) (You have to be a subscriber to read the whole thing, but some nice person I know cut and pasted the entire piece, which you can read after the jump).