DJ Rodi is an experienced pro in helping homo sapiens get on the good foot.

Just received word that soul/funk selector supreme DJ Rodi and guests will be spinning New Year's Eve at Alex's Bar in Long Beach. All night. For free. Whoa. While most of you probably have your NYE plans set, for the undecided folks out there, this is great news.

I had heard people speak of Rodi—one of the founders of the nine years and running Good Foot night—in hushed tones, but, being a newcomer to the area, I'd never seen him spin. I finally caught the man (who now resides in Osaka, Japan) in action at Alex's on Christmas night, and he properly laid down the sort of amazing obscurities I just don't hear played often enough in clubs. Dude had me trainspotting like crazy during his entire set. I'm tenacious and annoying like that...

Among the tracks he busted out—many on 7-inch vinyl, for extra cred—were Peaches & Herb's “We've Got to Love One Another” (that's what I told this girl at the bar, but she wasn't buying it), Smokey Robinson's immortal “Get Ready” covered by reggae artist Delroy Wilson, “Papa Don't Take No Mess” by James Brown, something awesome by Joe Thomas, (I forgot to write down the title, damn it), and Woody Herman's “Fat Mama” (holy shit, I didn't know Woody Herman made killer funk tunes).

So if you have a small budget but a huge appetite for rare and precious soul, funk, jazz, reggae, dub, dancehall, bossa nova, hip hop, etc., Rodi & co. at Alex's could make for a smashingly frugal transition into 2008.

... and you're feeling sorry about it,

THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN PAYING ATTENTION TO ALL THOSE DAMN PARTY FLYERS LITTERING YOUR CAR'S WINDSHIELD FOR THE LAST MONTH.

After the jump find some sure-to-be-amazing events.
You're lucky I'm giving you a second chance.

Here's another roundup from our pal Jeff Shaw:

Ah, the New Year. Time of transformation, time of bubbly-spawned magic, time of awkward passes and resolutions you mean at the time. While you're preparing for the long sled ride down Hangover Hill, here's some topical listening material.

5. Death Cab for Cutie, "The New Year"
"So this is the New Year ... and I don't feel any different." Who among us cannot identify with these sentiments? The ennui associated with arbitrary calendar-flippage? We've all been there at one point, and this captures one aspect of the nouvelle annee experience: sitting around and waiting for life to start. Some years are like this, running in place while holding a drink. Try not to spill.

4. The Zombies, "This Will Be Our Year"
A delicious pop nugget from decades past, this track isn't explicitly about the New Year, but about starting a new romantic relationship with an old friend. The words I'm looking for to describe it are "thoroughly charming." Share it with someone you love -- or ensure that it's playing when a longtime pal you have a crush on walks by. More recently, OK Go covered this song, and that version is also well worth listening to. You can find it here. But I think the video below, with decades-old footage of somebody's parents shot with a Super 8, fits the tune's feel.

3. Asobi Seksu, "New Years"
About a metaphorical rather than literal New Year, this song (which you can hear streaming here) is the finest track from one of 2006's best albums. Yeah, its almost all in Japanese. Yeah, you'll enjoy it anyway, even if you don't speak the language. You can see people wrestling with the tune's English meaning here.

Steve Aoki celebrates another smooth transition.

A lot of people talk shit about Steve Aoki (a.k.a. Kid Millionaire), especially in OC. He's just a trustafarian, some say (pops founded the Benihana restaurant chain). His DJ skills are wack and his selections mediocre, others claim. He's a marketing whore and the epitome of hipster-dance-scene douchebaggery, yet more others accuse.

But Aoki is making things happen, playing out several times a week worldwide, running an indie label (Dim Mak) with a decent roster, promoting Dim Mak Tuesdays at LA's Cinespace (ground zero for the area's indie-electro-dance hipsterati), overseeing a clothing line, designing headphones for WeSC, lending his name to designer kicks by Supra, and basically putting his savvy Japanese-American fingers in as many avant-ish urban-culture pies as he can. Dude verily is nightlife to many clubbers and a certain sector of the media. Odds are, he's bringing joy to a lot of people's lives. And for every lame event he DJs for thousands of dollars, he can release a few great records by deserving, obscure bands. So maybe he deserves some respect. As Jigga said, you can't knock the hustle. (Well, you can, but hustlas will still giggle all the way to the bank, no matter how much Haterade you chugalug, son.)

I haven't seen Aoki DJ yet, but I have an idea of what he'll spin after googling him within an inch of his life (I'll buy you drinks all night if he doesn't play at least 5 Ed Banger or Institubes trax, that damnably ubiquitous Outfield remix I secretly like, and something by MSTRKRFT or Spank Rock). I'm not expecting to be blown away by adventurous selections, mind-boggling deck tricks or seamless segues. I'll probably be more impressed by his attire and adoring throngs than I will be by his cuts, but whatever the case, this night is sure to be a hipster clusterfuck of spectacular proportions. You may want to look your hottest, too, in case Aoki bud Mark “The Cobrasnake” Hunter shows up.

Does my envy look fat in this hoodie?

VVM Web Music Editor David Downs calls 2007 the year of rehab. "For LiLo, Britney, Amy, and America as a whole. It'll be remembered as the year we hit rock bottom, and the getting up wasn't going to be easy. Here's how it sounded."

Queens of the Stone Age
Era Vulgaris
"Turning on the Screw"
Because no one rocks harder while still pulling in the girls. This album has at least five epic, shredder songs that kept me awake during several 2 a.m. burns down the pitch-black California Interstate 5 through the Central Valley. This is extreme, inlander music. Butt rock with a heart.

Radiohead
In Rainbows
"House of Cards"

Partly because of the size of their balls, but mostly because the songs are as good as their balls are big. Take the glitchy "15-Step", add the technical "Faust Aurp", throw in the burly "Bodysnatchers", mellow it out with "House of Cards" and you have so much good music, the other songs are just the sweet, shiny coating on the prozac.

See the rest of Downs' picks over at SF Weekly's music blog.

Surprisingly still-popular LA breakbeat producers the Crystal Method—Ken Jordan and Scott Kirkland—shlep their MP3s (I'll bet anything they digitized all of their vinyl) to Tentation in Newport Beach (4647 Macarthur Blvd, 9 p.m.-2 a.m., $20) for a DJ set tomorrow night.

Below is the track list for the Crystal Method's most recent DJ mix, 2005's Community Service II, to give you an idea of what you might hear at the gig. Looks like a menu heavy with funky/nü breaks and rejigged '60s (Doors), '80s (New Order) and '90s (Smashing Pumpkins) nostalgia. Let's keep hope alive that they've updated things since then. Below that is 10-minute promo video for the duo's Tweekend album.

1. The Crystal Method "Intro"
2. PMT "Gyromancer" (Elite Force Remix)
3. Elite Force "Ghetto Fabulous"
4. Hyper "Come With Me"
5. The Doors "The Crystal Method vs. The Doors" (Roadhouse Blues Remix)
6. Evil Nine "We Have the Energy"
7. Dylan Rhymes feat. Katherine Ellis "Salty" (Meat Katie Remix)
8. The Crystal Method "Keep Hope Alive" (J.D.S Mix)
9. Koma + Bones "Speedfreak"
10. The Crystal Method featuring Kevin Beber "Kalifornia"
11. Uberzone "Octopus"
12. UNKLE "Reign" (False Prophet Mix)
13. The Crystal Method "Starting Over" (Elite Force Mix)
14. The Crystal Method "Bound Too Long" (Hyper Mix)
15. New Order "Bizarre Love Triangle" (The Crystal Method's CSII Mix)
16.Smashing Pumpkins "1979" (New Originals 1799 Remix)

Matt Castille (Muz) drumming up some Mardi Gras exultation.

Costa Mesa resident Matt Castille appeared in the Weekly's 2007 Best Of issue as Best Genius Hermit Musician. Over the weekend, Castille emerged from his lair to bestow upon me his latest sonic creation: eight tracks he recorded solo under the moniker Muz. My weekend became immeasurably more psychedelic during those 35 minutes.

All musicians always say that their newest batch of songs are their “best yet,” but often this exuberance is delusional. Before we put the CD-R in the player, Castille—who also plays in Vas Deferens Organization—observed that these new joints “may be the best thing I've ever done.” As someone who's heard nearly everything he's recorded, I believed that his statement would likely ring true.

We listened to the disc twice. I was thunderstruck by the rich, lurid panoply of brain-scrambling sounds parading across the stereo field. The man had kept this word. These new songs are more tightly composed than the two sprawling pieces on his debut LP (see my review from Alternative Press here) and more memorable and vividly detailed than his second Muz album, Banana in Portuguese.

I'm still trying to process everything going on here. I feel in the sober light of day that I am ill-equipped (i.e., my mind is not sufficiently altered) to do justice to the teeming brilliance on display. All attempts at categorizing dissolve into so much irrelevant semantics. This new Muz release is one of those heavy trips to which you're lucky if you can eke out the occasional “WOW” as it coats your neurons in gaudy rivulets of psychotropic goo. (This album is currently untitled and without a label. Will some idiosyncratic philanthropist/music-industry renegade please release it? Soon? Thanks.)

Influenced by Nurse with Wound's legendary recommendations list of progressive/psychedelic/krautrock/experimental/avant-garde artists, Castille is one of those musicians who absorbs tons of fantastic, rarefied albums and then reconstitutes the base elements of said albums to his own perverse designs (his Vas Deferens Organization band mate Eric Lumbleau is one of the world's foremost collectors; for proof, see his contributions to the invaluable blog Mutant Sounds) . If names like Art Zoyd, Intersystems, Et Cetera, Brave New World and Severed Heads mean nothing to you, don't worry: Muz will still floor you with his extravagantly exotic tone painting and creative (de)arrangements. The only problem is, after you listen to Muz, nearly everything else in the sound spectrum will seem unbearably pedestrian.

Jeff Shaw at our sister paper City Pages goes off the beaten sleigh path to bring his readership 10 songs for the season. Ever generous, Jeff's allowed us to share 'em with you:

10 and 9: Two from Tom Lehrer
My uncle would never forgive me if I didn't mention Tom Lehrer's scathing, brilliant "Christmas Carol.." Unfortunately, only the lyrics are available on-line, and the only performance of the song is a dreadful reading performed by the even more dreadful Christopher Hitchens. Do Not Want. On the brighter side, we can do a different-denominational holiday Lehrer experience with the peppy "Hannukah in Santa Monica."

8. Harvey Danger, "Sometimes You Have to Work on Christmas."
In a nod to my current personal activities at this time of year, I must mention this track from Seattle's Harvey Danger.

7. Of Montreal, "Christmas Isn't Safe For Animals"
Kevin Barnes has a penchant for odd Christmas songs. Besides this preciously weird, violin-backed indie tune, his band has also produced two goofy Christmas-themed songs on their early record "The Bird Who Continues to Eat the Rabbit's Flower." But this is the most accessible of the three, and features a bizarre radio montage in the middle. Excelsior! Get the lyrics and the MP3 download here.

6. Dean Martin, "Jingle Bells (Dan the Automator remix)"
Lounge never felt so cool as it does in this gentle remix that is (gasp!) true to the original. The beatmaker behind Del and Handsome Boy Modeling School does the Rat Pack proud, and I bet even your mom will dig. Download it here.

Freelancer Ben Westhoff (you may recognize the name from "The Efron Scandal") posted this provocative list on our sister paper Pitch Weekly's blog. We reprint it here because this is a time of giving (said the atheist).

By BEN WESTHOFF

1. Worst Album: Arcade Fire, Neon Bible

This cerebral garbage entertained about 100 people, none of whom didn’t either live in Canada or work as a music critic. Speaking of critics, it’s hard to agree with Sasha Frere-Jones about anything, but he was right that Arcade Fire lacks soul. This is true in both the musical and metaphysical senses.


2. Worst Single: Bow Wow & Omarion, “Girlfriend”

Worse than Avril Lavigne’s “Girlfriend” and much worse than ‘N Sync’s “Girlfriend,” this slow, pandering drivel is the kind of thing that makes you wish Bow was still a pup and Omarion was still with B2K.


3. Worst Wu-Tang Clan Song: “Sunlight.”

Wu’s new album is amazing, and I support RZA’s production on it, but on “Sunlight” he falls off the deep end. And as you play all day like the grasshopper who work and toil like armies of ants carrying stones of soil, he chants in a series of run-on sentences, building a home for themselves and storing food. At night we praise Allah and adore the moon in sync like the flow of the Nile, the growth of a child. Cool!


4. Worst Concert: White Williams

White Williams tries his hardest to avoid melody in his songs, and in his concerts he tries his hardest to avoid playing music. This was the case, at least, at his December 10 show at New York’s Bowery Ballroom, in which Williams’ inane, hipster banter dominated the set. During long pauses between songs, we were treated to views of (what I believe was) his MySpace page.


5. Worst Year-End Critic's List: The Onion A.V. Club

Topped, of course, by Arcade Fire, the A.V. Club’s best 25 albums of the year list also featured past-their-prime bands like Wilco and Modest Mouse. I do agree with some of the choices, like Band of Horses and Amy Winehouse, but the main problem is that it includes not a single hip-hop album. An online commenter called “Murk” put it best: “You guys are almost as eclectic as Time magazine!”

6. Worst Idolator Feature: Worst Album Cover Of The Year Tournament

It seems that whenever Idolator isn’t bashing Village Voice Media papers for shoddy music writing or dishing out shoddy music writing of its own, it is subjecting us to this never-ending “Worst Album Cover Of The Year Tournament.” It's not at all funny (Vice magazine has been doing this to greater effect for years), but I mainly hate it because they've been subjecting us to it -- and its preliminaries -- since fucking February.


7. Worst Genre: Indie Rock

It’s been fun, guys (well, no not really), but it’s time for indie rock to go gently into that good night. Irony, self-consciousness, and beard-stroking aren’t what we need in our music – that’s what we have the McSweeney’s franchise for.

Merry Christmas from fag-hating Westboro Baptist Church!

"Yo, Wayne, I need a dope rhyme for 'fellatio.' Help a brotha out."

The satirical story about prolific Southern rapper Lil Wayne collaborating with High School Musical star Zac Efron has inspired one sensitive soul to pen this heartfelt piece of fanfiction on his blog.

All that's left now is for Weezie and Zac to do the very damn thing writer Ben Westhoff conjured in his fevered imagination. Can you say “multi-platinum sales”?

Now here's that scintillating exchange:

Zac: Oh my God, did you read that article? That's... I mean, that's crazy, right?

Weezie: Yo man, don't sweat that ish, them muvfvkkers don't know shee-it bout how we do. You my new brother from another mother, naw mean? That's blood son, that's love, my true brother.

Zac (steps close): Really? That's awesome, and so deep. Vanessa never gets that deep with me.

Weezie: That's cause Nessa Baby ain't your man, baby. She ain't your brother. She can't hold you like I can.

Zac (steps closer): Hold me?

Weezie (bounces): Yeah son, when the chips are down you got to hold this nigga, and I got to hold you, cause you my brother now, that's blood, that's life!

Zac (steps close): So like, you know, whatever, right? If I was all, "whassup my nigga!" and then stepped up to you like now, then-

Weezie: Tha black is hott, the black is hott

Zac: Bet on It! Umm, that's... that's one of my songs. The song I sing. "Not gonna stop till I get-" ahem, my shot. Am I standing too close to you?

Weezie: Boy you could stand in me and it wouldn't be close enough! Cause we blood now, the blood is in our veins and in our soul, BIG WEEZIE!

Zac: Yeah... totally, yeah.

Hear dozens of covers of Brian Jonestown Massacre songs by artists from all over the world here.

Obsessive is as obsessive does. You know Newport Beach-born BJM leader Anton Newcombe is eating this up...

Below is an instructive snippet from the documentary Dig!

Wayne and Zac: brothers from other mothers, fo' sheezy.

Have you read Ben Westhoff's “The Efron Scandal” feature yet in this week's OC Weekly? Dozens of thousands of 'net surfers have (enough—30,000 and counting—to crash our site, temporarily). Among those readers are those who work for very popular hip-hop magazine XXL, snarky pop-culture rag Radar, snarkier music blog Idolator, high-traffic rap blog nahright.com (can't find the link now, sorry), A Socialite's Life gossip spot, gossip queen supreme Perez Hilton (OMFG!!!! LMAO!!!) and many other sites. And some dim bulbs at British tabloid The Sun. The Internets are absolutely aflame with conjecture about the reality of “The Efron Scandal.” To my utter shock, many gullible mouth-breathers post comments to websites. Nurse, the smelling salts...

The Sun swallowed the satirical story [i.e., IT'S FABRICATED TO AN ABSURD DEGREE TO PROVOKE LAUGHTER, HAHA] without an iota of skepticism, and ran this tabloidy piece about adorable High School Musical co-star Vanessa Hudgens, alluding to Zac Efron's alleged extracurricular activities with Dirty South rapper Lil Wayne. Those nitwits couldn't even attribute our story properly, calling OC Weekly a “US magazine.” I can just imagine the Sun editor saying, “Oi, all those yank publications are the same, innit? Let's fuck off to the boozer, mate.”

My favorite responses so far have been on xxlmag.com, where some obviously sharp-witted readers note that, while they realize our article is fictitious, they admit that they wouldn't be surprised if a Wayne/Zac collab did happen. That crazy Weezy mofo will work with damn near anyone... See, it's funny because it's (almost) true.

But the overwhelming impression I have over the hysteria “The Efron Scandal” has generated is that some people don't recognize comedy gold, even as it's repeatedly conking them upside their thick heads.

UPDATE: New York Magazine (skeptical) and VH1's blog (gullible) add their $.02.

No, really.

It all started with Ben Westhoff's hysterical SATIRE piece on Zac Efron and Lil Wayne. Yes, satire. Y'all think this sort of collaboration would happen in real life?! With lyrics like these:

Efron sings the chorus—“Everybody all for one, a real summer has just begun! Let’s rock and roll and just let go, feel the rhythm of the drums. We’re gonna have fun in the sun!”—while Wayne raps: “I’m a dog, you’re all a bunch of fleas on my dick. Driving a Jag, er, like my name was Mick. I’m so sour like cream with chives, and my sperm will make your face break out in hives.”

In your dreams. And in Disney's nightmares! People will believe anything these days.

P.S. Thank goodness for clubs editor Erin DeWitt, who dropped Hilton a note to set things straight.

Magic Lantern peaked "At the Mountains of Madness."

Weekly poster/music zine L.A. Record cashed in on its good karma and booked a strong lineup to celebrate this obscure, esoteric holiday at the renovated library known as Eagle Rock Center for the Arts. Featuring savvy DJs with deep crates of psych, garage, shoegaze and prog (Billgazer, Short Shorts, Heru John Basil, the last of whom got seriously shortchanged, to my chagrin) and four bands you'd do well to investigate, the night only suffered from the first hour's frequent power outages and the aforementioned abbreviation of Mr. Basil's DJ set. Otherwise, the performers mostly rendered the absence of hard liquor irrelevant with their distinctive brands of sonic intoxication.

Golden Animals churned out raw, tumultuous blues rock (harder but less catchy than obvious reference point White Stripes, much better looking than Black Keys) and old-timey barroom sing-alongs. The male guitarist/vocalist wore a suede vest, black derby and regulation Grateful Dead hair and beard while the female drummer looked as if she stepped out of Robert Altman's McCabe & Mrs. Miller. I half expected to see Jerry and Grace wandering in the crowd (I had to “settle” for RTX/Royal Trux femme fatale Jennifer Herrema).

Crystal Antlers' cyclotronic rhythm & bruise and garage-rock barrage scared all the literary ghosts out of the former library, but this performance somehow lacked the psychedelic overdrive of a September Prospector show with guest keyboardist Ikey Owens. Still, it was pretty thrilling.

L.A. duo Antimc (bass, guitar/laptop) found a sweet spot between post-rock and hip-hop and kept on hitting it for the duration of their set. Check out their album on Mush, It's Free, But It's Not Cheap. They're off to Australia soon to continue their tour support of speed rapper Busdriver.

Long Beach's Magic Lantern climaxed the evening splendidly. Their first song was as mesmerizing as watching explosions in slow-motion or seeing a whole meadow of flowers blossom in time-lapse photography. The second song was a ceremony of shaken little percussion toys, Korg oscillations and mellifluous wooden flute trills. The third song was all sacred plodding and divine whorls, a languorous seduction into the psychedelic vortex (I think somebody may have spiked my Sobe Energy drink). “At the Mountains of Madness” transfixed the remaining headstrong audience members and thrust us to said geological phenomena.

Before this transcendent occurrence, I and many others had our photos taken with “Santa” (L.A. Record publisher Charley Rose) and received generous gifts for our trouble. Mine consisted of four old paperbacks with such promising titles as Girls & Sex, Sexual Behavior, The Art of Loving and The World's Greatest Dirty Jokes.

I wish to profusely thank L.A. Record (which is edited by my predecessor, Chris Ziegler) for making this probably the best Christmas party I will attend this week.

Paul Tingen, author of the thoroughly engaging and perceptive Miles Beyond: The Electric Explorations of Miles Davis 1967-1991, has graciously linked to my review of the late, great trumpeter's The Complete On The Corner Sessions boxed set on his website.

I'm currently reading Miles Beyond (thanks, Nick) and, even though I've read the musical legend's autobiography, I'm learning a helluva lot more about Miles, his recording processes and his huge and hugely talented, rotating cast of band mates than I thought was possible. Anyone interested in Miles and the vast amount of innovative and controversial music he created in his final quarter century should read Tingen's tome. By no means a Davis cheerleader, Tingen is rather a tough yet fair scrutinizer of the man's work and ideas.

Ever since you read this story in OC Weekly (or perhaps even before that momentous occasion), you've been eager as hell for The Crosby to open its damned doors over on 4th and Broadway in Santa Ana. Now it appears that the time is imminent for this club/bistro/bar/book shop/art gallery/epicenter of the cultural universe to make its splashy debut.

After the jump please read The Crosby's call for employees. Maybe you have that special bundle of qualities it will take to work for what potentially could be the OC's hippest joint.

Ike Turner died this morning at his home in San Marcos, in northern San Diego County, according to Scott M. Hanover of Thrill Entertainment Group, the company that managed Turner's musical career. Cause of death is unknown at this time. Turner was 76. Please see our sister paper Riverfront Times' blog for more information. (Turner grew up in the St. Louis area.) TMZ is the publication first to report on Turner's passing.

Turner was one of the 20th century's most vital blues, rock, soul and funk composers and performers, but his creative feats became overshadowed by his abusive relationship with his ex-wife, Tina Turner. In 1991, he was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame along with Tina.

Below are two videos from different periods in Ike Turner's career.

“Baby Get It On”

“I Wanna Take You Higher”

That's the rumor ablaze on the 'net.

A new band has popped up called Foxboro Hot Tubs and they sure as hell sounds like the boys from Green Day... trying out a swinging '60s sound.

Do you think it's them? (it totally is)
http://www.myspace.com/foxborohottubs

Starting Dec. 11, OC Weekly freelance photogrphaer Keith May is organizing an open-mike [sic] night on Tuesdays at Costa Mesa bar/restaurant La Cave.

May is hoping to spotlight aspiring singer-songwriters with his new venture. If you think you have what it takes to be the next Leonard Cohen, Joni Mitchell or Leonard Cohen, or if you just have a burning desire to fill the atmosphere with your own spleenfelt singer-songsmithery, get thee and thy acoustic guitar to La Cave on Tuesdays. The action begins at 10 p.m. May can be contacted at keith@mayphotoanddesign.com.

The Dec. 4 death of UGK rapper Pimp C (Chad Butler, 33) in Los Angeles' Mondrian Hotel has prompted much mourning and reminiscing. Our sister paper Houston Press has a substantial coverage of the much-respected H-town MC on its blog. Along with UGK partner Bun B, Pimp C helped to bring Southern rap to prominence and paved the way for several Houston hip-hop artists who've gone on to stardom. Butler's death is currently being investigated.

You can view a tribute video to C below.

OC Weekly's music editor wouldn't complain if you bought him this.

Need to find a gift for your music-fanatic family member/friend but don't want to brave the harsh environs of the internet? Then you may want to head to the Rhino Pop-Up Store, which is a brick-and-mortar manifestation of www.rhino.com, Rhino Entertainment's website and a treasure trove of Warner/Elektra/Asylum's quality-rich and voluminous back catalog. The shop—located at 8032 W. Third St. in LA—will only be open for the month of December to service frantic holiday consumers seeking those Nuggets boxed sets and reissues by bands that peaked before many of you were born.

In addition to sating rapacious music-retail needs, Rhino's Pop-Up Store will host in-store signings and concerts and DJ sets by semi-famous and obscure but highly knowledgeable DJs. If this isn't a great argument for the continued existence of off-line record stores, then I'll eat my hard drive.

Read about these Rhino-esque happenings after the jump.

Kid Sister nails it.

Sassy Chicago MC and URB magazine cover star Kid Sister looks poised to blow up any week now. This video—with cameo by Kanye West—won't hurt her chances with the cuticle-blingin' demographic. The single is out now on DJ A-Trak and Nick Catchdubs' Fool's Gold label (A-Trak produced it). Check out the insidiously cute vid for “Pro Nails,” the audio and visuals of which will stay in your head for several hours.

Photo by Tobias Schneider

If they were any tighter, they'd combust.

Those were my first scribbled notes of the night, as the Dap-Kings tore through their opening 30-minute set sans the regal soul diva Sharon Jones. An eight-piece featuring two guitarists (one of whom sings), a bassist, a conguero, two saxophonists, a trumpeter and a nonchalant drummer on a very stripped-down kit, this New York octet animate and dynamite '60s soul and '70s funk with the sort of brio to which James Brown would have to give it up and turn it loose. What they do is not innovative; it's just damned good party music that you feel in your pelvis and root chakra. The crowd was appreciative, but still a bit torpid—maybe because the band was supposed to go on at 7, but didn't begin till 8:30.

That changed dramatically when Ms. Jones commandeered the stage in a form-fitting white dress. She has some extra baggage, but she flaunts it—and her prodigious vocal and dancing talent—with not an iota of shame in her game. Jones possesses a fiery bravado reminiscent of Tina Turner, bolstered by a James Brown-like showmanship and a desire to involve the audience that goes beyond any other band's I've seen. Seriously, she could make stars out of unknowns on a nightly basis, as she calls up patrons to dance and act as foils for her song subjects. At one point, she had five young women come up at once and each one exhibited hot moves. But the ringer in the bunch was a mutton-chopped white dude who channeled the late JB with lightning-fast kicks, leaps and splits. Jones' own hoofing was wild and energetic; she moved like a woman half of her 51 years. And when Jones announced, “All y'all gonna be my background singers,” she elicited a spirited response.

The well-paced set touched on most of the new 100 Days, 100 Nights album, but the highlight was a song about Jones' two sets of ancestors (West African and Native American). The music—ravishing, ravaging funk-soul fire—became increasingly intense as it went and Jones matched it with her hyperkinetic gyrating. The crowd lost it.

The encore raised the room temperature with scorching covers of the Spinners' “It's a Shame,” James Brown's “There Was a Time” and "It's a Man's Man's Man's World,” and then broke into a medley of classic cuts that allowed Jones to unveil her repertoire of vintage dance moves (the boogaloo, the jerk, the mashed potato, the pony, the funky chicken, etc.). After nearly two hours, SJ and D-K had left it all on the Galaxy's stage, raising the mother and turning this roof out (see, it was so good, I can't even get my clichés straight).

Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings' “Let Them Knock” (Live)