By Adam Lovinus
By Lilledeshan Bose
By Gabriel San Roman
By Rachel Mattice
By Stephanie Zacharek
By Daniel Kohn
By Nate Jackson
By Mike Seeley
THURSDAY, JANUARY 18Still creeping for Crystal Antlers: Stooge Cheer, rite on. Yeah, it's true I only like one thing, or two things that are actually the same thing. Real cool time at Prospector with more gore from Horns.
PLUS: Darker My Love does the same deal but even deeper at OCMA. Three weeks into the year and I present you your first impossible choice.
FRIDAY Solid Gold OCMA weekend shines on with Money Mark, about to polish off a new album for next month that's got a real Pacific Ocean Blue feel. Everybody who gets signed to Jack Johnson's label has to bow to mellow at least a little and so pianist extrakeyboardinaire Mark (homework on whose resume reminds you Beastie Boys and Mars Volta and Watt and as many collaborations as handshakes) finds a nice place in the California/nature/trees/weeds/sea to lay back and lie down. Less Jimmy Smith and more Emitt Rhodes with the immaculate Ray Barbee trio on the beach first.
PLUS: Shrivelly pop with cutie vox and unhappy guitars from Meg and Dia plus the dudes they tow behind at Chain.
SATURDAY Your boy Matt Costa deletes the freak out of folk and does it like Donovan did. His record(s) match the mood of western American teenage bedrooms better than any of the anxious albums by lesser contemporaries only sliding a capo down the neck because they think they'll catch something with it, and though he's not Chris Bell, I doubt he has ever been anything less than honest and sincere on every simple song he sings. I don't know if he rates as hip but people who love him now will love him for years and years. HB makes good at OCMA with PiersFaccini who our intern just viciously hates forever.
AND: Hacienda Bros. warm up the new Blue Cafť in Huntington Beach, where the Pacific ocean breeze chases off the ghosts of Kozmo's and the Brigg. Here's to the charm, guys!
SUNDAY Tee-hee hey ho for all-girl Ramonas, tightening that last little notch in the crotch that no other Ramones tribute can manage. Fall in love by the soda machine at Alex's (trick instruction: love-worthy soda machine actually across the street at the Burger Hole) and dooey wuh more time for me.
MONDAY Not this week, either.
TUESDAY Wu-Tang GZA the genius did an interview where he explained everything because although the rules might be simple they are still hard to follow: simplicity, economy, precision, active sentences, no slang, deep detail ("A lot of emcees think that if something is real bloody, than it's so real and so visual. 'I blew his brains out and they splashed on the back seat.' That's not visual.") plus ambition and attention to craft that makes him one of the few writers in music who probably would qualify as a poet except that's such an embarrassing rock-dad thing to think. Still: How much gap between "the hare limped trembling across the frozen grass" and "I wore my boots out from constant walks across the borough"? Your interview at halftimeonline.com and the man in person at the HOB.
PLUS: Jessica Dobson catches a cab to Prospector for the saucy Pull Your Pants Up Night.
WEDNESDAY Good times? Ha ha, lemme tell you about it: Black Lips crumb from the same state as James Brown and sound about as healthy these days, committing no crimes because the trail of slime they leave behind would lead the authorities right to them. Nuggets gets chucked around as much as "angular" or "shimmering" but these guys definitely undershoot right to Pebbles or Boulders or any of the adorably misspelled shit-rock import comps you get in the bottom bins of Amoeba. V/A Scum of the Earth? Je suis, je suis. At some point 'retro' becomes a geek way of saying 'primitive' which is the science way of saying 'caveman.' I hear the Rolling Stones for a verse on "Hippie Hippie" but this is recorded—and shaking at the wrists—like Roky and the 13th Floor Elevators; everything gets an affectation (next best thing to actual affection) down to the vocals with the Electric Eels slippery lisp on every sibilant 'ssss.' Shit rock at its probable best for anyone who is drunk when they read this. At the Glass House but it should be at the Prospector, too. Maybe next mess.
THURSDAY, JANUARY 25Jodeci at HOB for junior high love reborn.
For venue information, visit blogs.ocweekly.com/music.