Seattle’s all-ages concert guide You don’t need fake ID to have fun.

Previously, only last week, I had only thought of Françoise Hardy as the catchiest pop act of the 1960s, yes, even more than The Beatles, Os Mutantes, or whatever. Tracks like “Oh, Oh Cheri”, “Je Suis d’Accord”, and my personal favorite “Le Temps De L’Amour” are essentially etched into my consciousness from nonstop repeat listening. The immaculately cool pop recordings I just listed along with grandiose, breathy sophistication of La Question have quickly become all-time favorites from the mixture of Hardy‘s detached singing and her ability to write tireless hooks (she wrote her own songs before pretty much anyone). But then I heard, by chance, “Je N’Attends Plus Personne” off of her 1964 Mon Amie La Rose album (which I’d never heard, though I’m...

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Scissor Sisters 2004 self-titled debut featured what might be the greatest song of the 2000’s (the coming out anthem “Take Your Mama”), an excellent Elton John ape, an interesting Pink Floyd cover and them some other songs. In the last two years not much has changed in Scissor Sisters colorful camp: their newest album, “Ta-Dah,” still only reaches legendary heights once, but does come a lot closer to being a memorable album than their debut did.

Recording a song as good as Take Your Mama certainly has its benefits - Scissor Sisters have started rubbing elbows and getting musical direction from some of their initial influences. Sir Elton John himself lended his fast fingers to Tah-Da’s best track: “I don’t Feel Like Dancin’.” It would...

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Hey, it’s Two Gallants week! See Tristan’s well-thought-out review below for a look into the band on record. To be honest, I’ve never heard any of their albums, and am writing this review purely on the basis of their live show, which was pretty darned impressive.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. As I entered the Crocodile for this show, Langhorne Slim and his band (whom he referred to as the “war eagles,” but he might have made that up for this show) were in the middle of their set (so much for my estimation of set times . . .), and the crowd was eating it up.

The band was a stripped-down affair consisting of Slim on acoustic guitar backed up by an upright bassist and drummer. They might have been playing country-inspired music on acoustic instruments, but...

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Two Gallants are a band that musically live up to their name. There are two of them: guitarist/vocalist Adam Stephens, and drummer Tyson Vogel. They also are quite stylish while playing their blend of Delta Blues and outlaw country to sometime finger-pickin glory. Unfortunately for Two Gallants you can’t forget what you already know: they’re two twenty-somethings from California and have more than likely not been enslaved at any time in their life. The question with Two Gallants is not whether their music is interesting or well-played, but whether their fascination with the deep south can be played with a straight face. Clearly this is a question pertaining to the artist as character mystique, but also begs for musicial history in similar situations and the question of whether musical political correct-ness can...

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"Levi," you might ask, "why do you think it’s appropriate to take two albums by respected musicians - labelmates, no less - and review them together, pitting them against each other like a pair of roosters in a ring?" That’s a good question, so let me explain:

Sub Pop released both of these albums - Chad VanGaalen’s Skelliconnection and The Album Leaf’s Into the Blue Again - within a couple weeks of each other. They...

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This is pretty exciting. I have to admit, excitement happens fairly rarely in this town, this metropolis turned mundane by the red-eyed pseudo-romantics who permeate the ideals of reverse existentialism, every day balloons. I have a vague idea of what I’m saying but my feelings are concrete. This album is something like what most people would die for and what a small percentage would kill for, in the name of whatever, blood will be shed. I’m so confused, this can’t be this good. I’m not sure. But, oh, I am.

The Histrionics seem typically impressive on paper. They’re young, they’re girls, they played Sound-Off!, etc. That Megan lady from the Stranger likes them, which is totally great but these are all nothing more than points of minor interest, asterisks and snowflakes compared to the massive achievement that is “Let’s Move the Meat”. The Histrionics hold in their hands the rage and off-hand sloppiness of every great...

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Two months ago my brother and I are riding in his car heading downtown. My lids hang heavy over bloodshot eyes. The sun rises slowly to the east as we climb the Viaduct’s ascent. My brother’s words are drowned out by the pounding deep within in my skull. The pain moves from my eyes to my brain. A tear streaks down my cheek and my stomach aches as I recall the night before; one of those nights your attempts to forget only make the pain worse. I was awoken early that morning: early enough to ride with my brother to work. I needed to retrieve my car from its spot downtown where it spent the night.

I close my eyes and let the bouncing of the shocks rattle my brain. I daydream of laying motionless in my bed dreaming. Suddenly something happens. The saddest piano chords in the world spring from the car’s speakers. A voice both bombastic and melodic epically sings,...

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We caught up with Hutch from the Thermals after their performance at Bumbershoot this year, and had a chance to chat about their newest album, their performance, and other stuff.

Justine: Hello Hello Hello… alright, the microphone’s on! No secrets! This is Justine and Tristan, with Hutch from the Thermals, and we’re recording for MercurialSound.com… this is much more official sounding than anything we’ve ever recorded.
Tristan: Outside at Bumbershoot.
Justine: The Thermals have just released their newest album, “The Body, the Blood, the Machine,” came out a week and a half ago?
Tristan: On SubPop records
Hutch: yes
Justine: And it is great. We love it.
Hutch: Thank you
Justine: Um… lets see. Let’s talk about the album first, you...

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This was my first club show since Sweden - it’s good to be back!

At first, I really didn’t feel that way, though. Opening act Beaten Awake was quite underwhelming. The band members kept rotating instruments - a cool trick, when done well - but this time just made it seem like nobody was quite skilled at what they were playing. The one guitar player who remained steady did some interesting things, like using a screwdriver for sound, but nothing I hadn’t seen before. Vocals were touch and go, with one member reminding me a bit too much of Conor Oberst. I basically spent the entire time, rather than enjoying the music, trying to figure out how these guys got to open for The Black Keys.

Because The Black Keys absolutely rocked - this...

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Sonar pings sound out of the murk, Latin percussion drifts softly, horns blow in a frenzy, keyboard washes melt around the edges, looped sonic slabs crash, ghostly chanting, cymbals rise and fall, faster and faster, screams echo out of the confusion….

And so opens “Blind White Alligator”, the first track on of the five Magik Markers releases this year, For Sada Jane. The comment that has been circulating about this recent output is an apt summation of my initial listening: “You’ll be confused whether you’ve heard them before or not”. The Magik Markers have established themselves as a premier noise group in recent years, opening for Sonic Youth (and releasing an album on Thurston Moore’s Ecstatic Peace label) and Dinosaur Jr., with sheets of roaring feedback, Elvin Jones/Jaki Liebezeit rhythms, and Elisa Ambrogio’s wild improvised vocals. But they never strayed too far from that formula, keeping those three pieces...

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