"Oh gosh," Colin Meloy said, looking up at the ornate and very sold-out balconies of the Hammerstein Ballroom in New York City. "We're going to do our best to pretend that we're playing at the Mercury Lounge tonight." And for the next almost two hours they did just that, turning the 3700 seat theater into an intimate club show with audience sing-alongs, dance contests and plenty of endearing banter.

A Decemberists show has always been more musical theater than rock concert and the Hammerstein show was no exception. The stage was ringed by hanging orange Chinese lanterns and the backdrop was a recreation of the Crane Wife album cover. And with Meloy looking and acting more like a drama nerd than a rock star, any big musical gesture he makes – such as rolling around on the floor while playing guitar – comes off looking more cute and wink-wink ironic than hipster cool. Luckily, he's not trying to be the next Julian Casablancas, he's just genuinely enjoying himself, with an ear-to-ear grin for most of the night, bounding about the stage like Tigger, and leading the audience in participatory fun.

First there was the dance contest he initiated during the middle of "The Perfect Crime #2" which pitted the people on the floor against those in the balcony. Then there was the goosebump-inducing bit during an unplugged, slowed-down version of "Song for Myla Goldberg" when Meloy let the crowd sing the tongue-twisting lines, "I know New York/I need New York/I know I need unique New York." It was a beautiful moment, made all the more so by the fact that Decemberists fans can actually sing on key. Meloy thanked the audience for participating, but said, "I have a suspicion you came to the show without properly warming up your vocal cords" and proceeded to lead everyone in a brief vocal warm up lifted from his days at drama school in Montana.

But the best prank of the night came during "Culling of the Fold," a Crane Wife b-side, which Meloy joked may have been left off the album for being, "a little too violent." Mid-song, Meloy grabbed the cell phone of someone in the crowd, scrolled through the guy's contact list, and sang "Listen up boy/And listen up girl/It's a shallow little trench/And it's giving off a stench" to some unsuspecting family member or friend.

Despite Meloy owning center stage, there were plenty of places for one's eyes to wander. Each band member played a minimum of two instruments. And the Decemberists don't go in for that tedious guitar/bass/drums rock thing. Oh no. Their stage was full of musical devices like violin, cello, accordion, pedal steel guitar, upright bass (our sympathies to Nate Query's roadie,) bouzouki (!), hurdy gurdy (!), banjo, glockenspiel, and Hammond organ. Each new song brought a different configuration. Keyboardist Jenny Conlee started off sharing piano duties with Chris Funk on "Culling of the Fold," but switched to accordion mid-song. Funk and touring member Lisa Molinaro played at least ten different instruments between the two of them. Everyone looked like they were having the time of their lives onstage. If they were intimidated by the prestigious venue, they didn't let on. Funk bounced and sang along to every song, despite the fact that he wasn't mic-ed, and Conlee pounded on her keyboards like a rock goddess. Molinaro played with virtuosic flourishes and during "A Cautionary Song" joined drummer John Moen and Funk in venturing deep into the audience and engaging in some sort of mock battle that sadly, was impossible to see from where we were standing.

There were many musical highlights. The three part, twelve-minute proggy tour de force "The Island" was fully realized and kick-you-in-the-guts powerful. And "I Was Meant for the Stage," which Meloy sang for his mother (awww!) who was in attendance ended the night with the band falling to floor and mangling their instruments. Meloy then hurled himself first onto Moen's drum kit and then onto the drummer's back and was carried off stage piggy back style.

As the pride of the Indie world, the Decemberists at one time may have seemed unlikely candidates for crossover success, but their affecting stories and timeless melodies have steadily won them more and more mainstream fans. Now, with the financial and distribution powers of a major label behind them, it's doubtful they'll be playing the Mercury Lounge any time soon. Better get used to it Colin.

This review originally appeared in http://www.junkmedia.org

Who knew that inside indie heartthrob Emily Haines, lived the soul of a chanteuse? Best known as the singer for Metric and a member of Broken Social Scene, Haines has just released her first solo album Knives Don't Have Your Back on Last Gang Records. Over four years in the making, it's a luscious combination of piano driven melodies, sweet, breathy vocals, sinuous hooks, and dark subject matter. In contrast to Metric's energetic electro dance pop, Knives takes its time. Songs stretch languorously, creating an atmosphere of dark nightclubs, flickering candles, half-empty bottles of wine, and overflowing ashtrays. The overriding tone is one of melancholy, but it's sadness done so seductively, you'll smile as you're sinking.

Haines is performing a small number of solo shows to promote the CD and I had the pleasure of attending the first of two sold out gigs at Joe's Pub in the East Village. Joe's was the perfect venue for this show; an intimate room, with the aforementioned candles, and near-perfect acoustics. Tables lined the edge of the stage: in fact if we were sitting any closer, we'd have been in Haines' lap. Two other levels with couches and tables assured everyone an excellent view.

Haines walked onstage with her drummer and bass player, dressed in skinny black jeans, a blue Minnesota Northwoods t-shirt covered in paw prints and starbursts, low-heeled alligator pumps, and with her shoulder length blond hair tousled. She sat down on the piano bench and started to play. As befitting the hushed nature of the songs, the crowd was pin-drop quiet and attentive, lavishing applause and comments like "I love you Emily! Don't ever stop!" on Haines between songs.

After the first song, Haines rummaged through her purse, saying, "Every woman in the world can relate to this. I'm just going to turn off my cell phone." After further rummaging located the set list, she told the story of how the original video treatment for the song "Doctor Blind" included a ten-foot deep tunnel purse that she could endlessly dig though, but that budget restraints had downsized it to a blue shoulder bag.

Haines performed Knives in its entirety and even though the majority of the audience had to have been unfamiliar with the songs (we wouldn't illegally download a leaked album, would we?) each was rapturously received. This had everything to do with the spell Haines wove with her voice, piano, and between-song banter. She admitted that when she lived and waitressed in New York she used to walk past Joe's Pub and think, "Some day…"

She mused on "sexual suicide" – the subject matter of the song "The Lottery" – "Do you think it's about autoerotic asphyxiation? I'm taking a survey, because I'm not sure."

"Let's sing about death again," she said, before the last song of the evening, the album-closing "Winning." "Woo! Death! I feel so much better," Haines joked.

Images from the movies of Canadian director Guy Maddin were projected on a screen behind the musicians throughout the show. Their old-fashioned feel and arty black and white scenes added to the cabaret atmosphere. Each song title was also projected on the screen as it started.

All the songs on Knives are haunting and tap deep emotions. Haines isn't afraid to make herself vulnerable, yet there's no self pity. It's clear this woman has the strength to weather anything that comes her way, from knotty relationships to the death of her father, which occurred during the time the album was recorded.

Haines says in her press material, "Everywhere I’ve lived while working with Metric, I’ve written songs on the piano and played them for no one. On the advice of a friend, I decided I’d better start recording them before they were forgotten." Luckily for us, she did.

I love Muse and and here's why. You can see the official version of this review at http://www.junkmedia.org.

In certain circles, saying you're a Muse fan is about as acceptable as admitting you like Styx. While bands like the Mars Volta get props for making prog cool again, Muse has been unfairly pegged as Radiohead wannabees since releasing their first album Showbiz in 1999. Maybe there was a brief interval where Matt Bellamy's keening falsetto and dramatic musical mood shifts could be compared to Thom Yorke & Co., but Muse have spent the past seven years shaping their own identity as a ferocious riff-oriented rock band with classical overtones and apocalyptic themes that's taken them far away from Radiohead's more cerebral electronic approach. With their latest CD Black Holes and Revelations Muse has steered the way back machine even further into the proggy depths and produced a work that says yes to every over-the-top musical notion the band could dream up. Jeff Lynne/ELO-like walls of violins? Check. Queen style choruses? Yep. Mexican mariachi trumpets? Why not? Conspiracy theories about government/extraterrestrial collaborations? You betcha. Spacey danceable funk to rival Prince? Sure. It sounds like it should be a mess, but damned if it doesn't work because Muse has the chops and self-belief to pull it off.

In order to understand Muse's appeal you need to know what they're not. They're not punk. They're not emo. They're not folk or neo-folk or twee or even three chords with a four/four beat. They're old fashioned rock in the Wayne and Garth spazzing in the car to "Bohemian Rhapsody" sense and half the fun of being a Muse fan is allowing yourself to bask in their virtuosic musical excess. I defy you to stand in front of Matt Bellamy, watch him recreate the bone-crunching, head-banging riffs in "Stockholm Syndrome" and not scream yourself hoarse singing, "Forget you? I wish I could!" And what could be more cathartic than belting, "This is the end of the wooooooooorld" in a sweaty club during "Apocolypse Please" three days after the disastrous 2004 presidential election?

Muse is massively popular in Europe, headlining festivals and selling out multiple nights at arenas like Earls Court in London, but here in the States, due to little radio or video exposure, their fan base has been slower to build. That means those savvy enough to seek out music through the internet or other sources have been privy to seeing the band in the kind of venues that make our European friends weep with envy. On their last trip through Massachusetts, Muse sold out the 2000 capacity club Avalon in Boston in November of 2004 but filled not even half of the 4000 seat Curry Hicks Cage at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst for the MTV Invasion tour in spring, 2005. This time around they played the 5000 seat Bank of America Pavilion in Boston. While there were a number of empty seats, the majority of those in attendance seemed like hardcore fans, singing and fist pumping to every song, with new tunes like "Supermassive Black Hole" and "Starlight" receiving as much enthusiasm as old favorites like "Time is Running Out" and "Hysteria."

The stage setup was as stark and white as a spaceship. Dom Howard's drum kit was transparent, with only its silver rims and brass cymbals visible. Three clear plastic tubes, perhaps thirty feet tall and ringed with spirals, stood at the back of the stage like giant vertical hamster tunnels. Before the show we speculated whether Bellamy, Howard, and bassist Chris Wolstenholme would ascend through holes in the stage into the tubes, Spinal Tap fashion. (They didn't.) The visuals consisted of freaky skeletal images and geometric black shapes projected onto three large screens behind the band. One of the video camera operators told me in the photo pit before the show that every onstage light doubled as a projector and the images from his and the other video camera were fed into them and manipulated by the lighting director. One very cool result was Bellamy's image projected onto the back of the piano as he sat playing stage right during "Sunburn."

The show opened with "Map of the Problematique" from Black Holes and Revelations and then kicked it up ten notches with "Hysteria" from 2003's Absolution. Anyone who wasn't already drenched in sweat from the 100 plus degree temperatures (one of the hottest days on record in Boston) could not help but be reduced to a puddle. The next song – "Supermassive Black Hole" received a huge roar of recognition, despite being the single only in Europe. The crowd even sang to the three songs played from 2001's Origin of Symmetry ("Bliss," "New Born," and "Plug in Baby,") which was never released in the States. The pace and energy level never let up and even though the band played for an all too brief 75 minutes, no one went home disappointed.

Muse's songs are fierce. Even the ballads grip you by whichever set of privates you possess and apply pressure. The band's m.o. is to build tension relentlessly and not release it until your irises have disappeared and you've lost control of your ability to swallow. It's glorious agony, but not for the weak.

The new songs, so production heavy on the album, all translated flawlessly to a live setting. "Starlight," which is a bit too polished and MOR for my tastes on the CD, had more guts live. "Take a Bow" was epic and "Knights of Cydonia" was so deeply prog-erific it bordered on Close to the Edge territory. If you think Muse take themselves too seriously you need only to watch the video for "Knights" (Low bandwidth or High bandwidth) which simultaneously parodies spaghetti Westerns and Sci-fi and kung fu movies, as well as takes the piss out of the band's so-called pretensions.

Muse is off to Europe for a run of festival dates for the rest of the summer and then back in the States for a few select shows in September. Catch them now while they're still playing theaters. They're a guilt-free pleasure. And so much better than Styx.

More photos here.

Here's an interview I just did for http://www.junkmedia.org with Philip from the sublime Winterpills.

Sure it's the middle of a globally warm summer, but what better time to chill out with the Winterpills? The Northampton, Massachusetts group combines Elliot Smith-like melodic sensibility with Simon and Garfunkel-esque harmonies to create a lush world of lo-fi heartbreak. We caught up with frontman Philip Price by phone as he and bandmates Flora Reed, Dennis Crommett, Dave Hower, and Jose Ayerve navigated rural Pennsylvania in support of their self-titled debut on Signature Sounds.

Junkmedia: What are the best and worst things about touring?

Philip Price: The best things are pretty much what you'd imagine which is just getting out in the world, getting out of your little safety zone and making new fans. The worst things are pretty much what you'd imagine too. (Laughs.) Long drives, the stress of travel, being away from home. I'm really lucky in that Flora is here with me because she's in the band, but not everybody can bring their partners along with them.

It doesn't get stressful being in a band with your significant other?

It hasn't yet. It's been great actually. I suppose in theory it sounds like if you live together and work together and do everything together that eventually you're going to drive each other nuts, but when we're back on land, she has her day job and I've got what I do, and we're apart all day. It's not like we're in the same house together all the time.

What kinds of things are you listening to in the van?

Well, I think you better not put this in the article but… No I won't tell you what we just listened to.

Oh come on. Tell me.

Well we did just listen to a little Grateful Dead, but no one here is a deadhead.

(Laughs.)

None of us listen to the Dead except for one album but we just happened to put that album on. You busted us.

Everybody's got their guilty pleasures.

We have this problem right now where we're in a rental van that we can't play our iPods through so we're listening to a smattering of CD's. It's not really representative of what we'd be listening to with our million gigabytes of music on our iPods.

What else have you been listening to?

Let me look… The Books, Cat Power, the New Flaming Lips album, Jose Gonzalez. (Calls to rest of band) "Everyone yell out one thing you've been listening to lately." Dave says "Bob Marley." Flora says "Link Wray." Dave says the new LL Cool J sucks, but I guess he's been listening to it. Kings of Convenience. Jose says Sonic Youth Sonic Nurse. Magnetic Fields. Dennis has been listening to himself a lot.

That's always dangerous.

It's fun. I go through periods where all I listen to is my own music.

Really?

Well if I'm trying to figure something out about it. I'll listen to it for a day and go, "is this any good at all?" Then I go, "Well I guess it's all right" and I listen to something else.

I'm not a musician, but with my writing, once something's published I can't look at it.

I understand that too. Songs that like demos, I'll listen to endlessly as I'm working on them but once the finished product is out… like today because we hadn't had a chance to rehearse in a couple of weeks we played the Winterpills album so that Jose could click on his bass track and I was listening to it while sort of dozing and all I could think of was "God, this sucks." But you never know, sometimes I'll hear one of our songs on the radio and for some reason my brain hears the one in a different spot so I don't recognize it as a Winterpills song. It sounds like someone else completely and it always catches my ear and I'll go "That's really good and familiar. And then I go "oh my god, it's us!" I get a little temporary distance from the song. I get to hear it the way the rest of the world might hear it. At least the rest of the world if it were me but not having written any songs.

So does that make you think about how people listen to your music?

I hope other people have that reaction.

I was coming home from Mexico a couple of months ago and it was one of those days where you wake up after three hours of sleep and you have to travel for fourteen hours and you're on a plane forever. I was really wired, tired, and restless and I put on the Winterpills on my iPod and it was the perfect music at that moment. It completely chilled me out and took me out of my irritation.

So it has therapeutic qualities. Well, who knew? That makes me feel pretty good. Thanks for telling me that. Now we've got to think about the next one.

Are you writing?

There are songs that were already written when this album was made that we didn't record that are waiting for us. We've been playing them. We play about five or six songs that aren't on the album that will definitely go on the next album, so that's half an album right there. I have a lot of new stuff; we just have to decide whether we want to do Winterpills versions of them.

Was there one time in your life when you decided you were going to be a musician?

Yeah, it was 1992. I'd been doing music for a while but I decided I wanted to try and make a commercial go of it. It was after I had had a period of deciding whether I wanted to be a screenwriter or a musician. Then I somehow ended up becoming a journalist for two years which killed all my desire to write. I was a terrible journalist. I got fired from my job. I was a good writer but completely undisciplined as a journalist. They had me covering all kinds of things. If I didn't want to cover something I just wouldn't go. (Laughs) They'd be like, "You didn't cover that thing?" and I'd say, "Nope." "Ok, you're fired." It was sad because I really liked writing and my dad was a writer, but I just couldn't write after that. It made me also vow that I would never get a job in the music business doing music related work like engineering. Maybe a little production would be ok because that's more creative, but I wouldn't become a music industry drone and still have ambitions to become a musician on the side. I had to completely be a musician and be poor and work in some other unrelated job. Some people want to stay close to the business but frankly the business makes me crazy. I don't like it.

I don't even like hanging out with a lot of musicians. (Laughs.) I want to hang out with people who don’t just talk about music. That's one thing I love about the band – everyone's into different stuff. We're all in the music business but everyone has other interests and reads and likes movies and good wine and food and we all talk about that kind of stuff. It's not just constant shop talk. One of my primary outside interests has been my kids.

It's hard to be self centered when you've got kids.

It can be managed (laughs) but it's much harder. It's interesting because my youngest daughter applied for this summer arts program and she had to write an essay for part of the application. I got to read it and part of it was about, "I've watched both my parents struggle with trying to find a way to be successful in their art over the years and the sacrifices they've made" and she was incredibly perceptive. It's not something we'd ever talked about very much but I had a sense of her perception of me and her mom. Her mom's an artist too. And I thought maybe we don’t look like such selfish assholes to her. The arts are very selfish.

But it's selfish in the name of creating something to share.

That's true too and I realize that. There's a real dichotomy in that I have to have enough ego to think that I have something worthwhile to share so I'll do that, but there's this dance between ego and generosity. How do you be a good guy in such a cutthroat business? It's a constant struggle and something I think about a lot.

I always have a hard time watching people who seem to have the most success and are not necessarily the most talented, but are the ones who are best at self-promoting.

Yeah, they're better business people. The better business people will make it far and away above the less business oriented, likely less talented.

For a lot of people music is a big social thing, and certainly when you play it it is but it isn't really when you write it. Not for me. I don't write in the company of other people and I always feel weird bringing what I write to other people. I'm afraid it's going to get damaged or changed. Often it ends up getting changed for the better. But there is a trepidation there.

I think most people listen to music by themselves, especially now with all of the mp3 players. Everybody's got headphones and they're all in their own little worlds. It's all about how you relate to the music and what it says to you. It's weird because in one way it's really direct communication – you write a song, it's deeply personal, it's intensely felt. But then you put it out and people who you don't know, who you'll never meet listen to it, but they listen to it and it becomes personal for them.

Totally.

So it's one way communication but it's not.

I have a lot of respect for that. I get angry at some musicians who don't seem to understand that the songs they made really belong to other people now. I had this issue with Iron and Wine when I went to see them early last year. I really love the records, at least some of them anyway. A lot of his stuff is this incredibly intimate, it's very personal the way the albums were recorded and the arrangements were made. And he's up there onstage and he plays a couple of songs and they sound right. And then it's obvious he's become bored with playing the songs live and decided he wants to alter the arrangements dramatically. To me only Bob Dylan is allowed to do that because you just can't stop him. Most of [Dylan's] songs were caught in that particular form and were totally different before and were never played the same after but not everybody's like that. [Sam Beam] mutilated all the arrangements to his songs because he was obviously bored with them. And I thought, "You're betraying your fans." There were people there who were just like "Ugh, what is he doing?" Not to mention they were horrible changes he made. As a performer I want to be professional. I want to give people not something that's sterile, but I think they need to hear that familiarity of what they've grown to love. The arrangements can't help but evolve somewhat live, but I like to crack the whip and keep them pretty much close to what we have.

Have you heard any of Elvis Costello's newest CD? He just made all these jazzed up versions...

I heard about it, yeah. Jazzed up versions of his own songs?

Yeah.

I haven't heard it. Do you like it?

No. I've only heard "Watching the Detectives," but I don't like it. And I often don't mind when musicians rearrange their songs. I like it because I listen to music so obsessively that I can get tired of a song the way it is. I'm all for changing it around and doing something different, but it's too big band-y the way he did it.

It's almost like he's kind of a show off. He's been that way his whole career so it doesn't surprise me, but he is enormously talented so you don't mind as much.

It's just not right, especially that song. Those first two albums of his were such breakthroughs in terms of where punk rock went after the Sex Pistols, that's kind of sacred ground to me. Watching the Detectives is like, why mess with that?

Don't mess with perfection. It's like, "Here's another version of the Mona Lisa. It's a cubist version now." But you get too close to your art you don’t know what you're doing. You've got to get away from your material.

There’s really no such thing as a bad Radiohead gig because even Radiohead on an off night is better than most other bands on their best nights. Touring again after a two and a half year layoff, the band is road testing songs from their upcoming album. The songs are still works in progress and are being shaped nightly by practice and audience feedback. It takes a brave and confident band to let the world in on their creative process and this is reason number 28 why Radiohead is miles above their peers. Singer Thom Yorke in his self deprecating way said at the Heineken Music Hall in Amsterdam, “We’re going to be doing some new songs tonight. There’s a bar over here (pointing to one side of the venue) and a bar over here.” But for anyone who’s more than a casual fan, seeing what the band will come up with next is better than hearing them play the hits.

The Amsterdam show had its sublime moments, but was a bit patchy by Radiohead standards. If you had never seen the band live you likely wouldn’t have known anything was amiss, but there were mistakes, missed cues, and frustration expressed. During Paranoid Android there was a technical malfunction just before the “rain down” part. Yorke stopped playing and said, “Fuck it. Let’s do the next one.” The crowd screamed, “Nooooo!” and he said, “Oh all right” and went on to finish the song. During “You and Whose Army” guitarist Jonny Greenwood played the wrong line which caused Yorke to stop playing and practically fall off his piano bench laughing. Drummer Phil Selway stopped playing during “Street Spirit” for a while, whether from a technical problem (someone said one of his drums slipped down too low and he couldn’t reach it) or from emotion is a matter of debate. The second scheduled Amsterdam show was cancelled due the death of Selway’s mother.

There was some question as to how the band would perform three nights later in Blackpool given the sad circumstances, but the first of two shows in the seaside resort town was the best of the tour so far, with the band at the top of their game in every way.

The setlist included almost the entire OK Computer album (save "Electioneering," “Fitter Happier,” which has never been played live and the rarely performed “Let Down” which was played in Copenhagen the first and second nights of the tour). Also played were “The National Anthem,” “2+2=5,” “Exit Music,” “Paranoid Android,” “My Iron Lung,” “Where I End and You Begin,” “How to Disappear Completely,” “Idioteque,” “There There,” and “Planet Telex.” In contrast to the glitches of Amsterdam, the band performed flawlessly and seemed to feed off the huge cheers and loud singing that accompanied each old favorite. Far from being somber, the mood onstage was light. During the encore of “Black Star,” guitarist Jonny Greenwood shared a vocal mic with Ed O’Brien and sang the final chorus, something he’s never done before.

New songs included “Bangers and Mash,” one of the catchiest songs Radiohead has ever written, a full out rave up that features Yorke on drums. Yorke introduced it the second night in Blackpool by saying, “This is a song for when you get caught you’re your trousers down and it gets in the papers, which seems to happen to politicians”, a reference perhaps to Deputy Prime Minister John Prescott. “Bodysnatchers” is riff driven guitar rock with a funky bassline that starts off at a medium tempo and builds to a mini-frenzy. “15 Step” has a pulsing techno beat with syncopated hand clapping. Yorke introduced the reworked “Nude”, also known as “Big Ideas,” by saying, “this song has been kicking around for a long while, as have we.” Though never properly recorded, the song has been a fan favorite on bootleg since the OK Computer days. Its new incarnation is slowed down, reggae-fied, and stripped to the bone, with an understated groove and a bassline that recalls Elvis Costello’s “Watching the Detectives.” Yorke’s vocals are haunting, especially when he sings what was previously the organ’s melody line and brings the song to resolution. “House of Cards” was originally premiered by Yorke on acoustic guitar at the secret 3 a.m. Trade Justice Rally gig in London in April, 2005. The band version is fully reworked, much slower and longer, with vocals that sound world weary as opposed to passionate.

The final song of the night was “The Tourist” the closing song on OK Computer, which has rarely been performed since 2001.

As an American seeing Radiohead for the first time on UK soil I was struck by the intensity of emotion from the audience. Every familiar song was sung at top voice and there was a definite feeling of pride and possessiveness, with every person in the crowd fully engaged. In America the band is well loved and tickets for the June tour sold out in minutes, but possibly because Radiohead has never received as much press in the U.S. as they have at home, there is the sense that audience members love the band as their own individual discovery, and not so much as a group.

The setlist for the second night of Blackpool included “Morning Bell,” “Pyramid Song,” “The Bends,” “Street Spirit,” “Dollars and Cents” and the never before performed piano-based “I Want None of This,” recorded for the War Child benefit album Help last year. Yorke apparently decided at the last minute to play the solo song for the final encore because he apologized to his lighting director for continually changing the set. He also asked the audience to help him out, “Which is going to be hard since you probably don’t know it.” Perhaps Yorke was nervous about performing the heart-wrenching ballad in front of such a rowdy crowd because he made a few errors, laughed at end, and said, “Almost.”

Night two also saw “Spooks” a 90-second three-guitar attack of surf music, “Four Minute Warning,” and the debut of the song, “Go Slowly” a piano ballad that will likely have Chris Martin gnawing off his hands in frustration.

Radiohead has already cemented their status as one of the most innovative rock bands in history. They’ve been able to balance commercial success and artistic integrity in a way that few bands ever manage. Likely they’ve earned the right to spend the rest of their lives puttering happily about their gardens. Luckily for us they’ve chosen to carry on.

http://www.laurasylvester.com/portfolio/index.php?action=gallery&gallery=Radiohead%20in%20Blackpool%202006

If the phrase "anti-war rally" conjures up images of marching, sloganeering, angry voices, and eye-rollingly earnest music, think again. It's 2006 and this is not your father's protest. The new wave of the anti-war movement is about entertainment. Not that last Monday night's Bring 'em Home Now Concert at New York's Hammerstein Ballroom wasn't filled with substance. It's just that it was wrapped in so much musical talent and comedy that it went down easier than a Starbucks mocha frappuccino on a ninety degree day.

With a wildly eclectic lineup headlined by Michael Stipe, the evening featured many highlights. Comedian Margaret Cho delivered a brilliantly cutting routine, taking aim at Republicans and Christians ("They've lost their minds! They want to ban the morning after pill because it promotes promiscuity? What about motherfucking MySpace?") Country singer Steve Earle (The Dixie Chicks aren't the only liberal country performers?) opened the show and got the crowd riled up with his song "F the C C" whose chorus goes: So fuck the FCC/Fuck the FBI/Fuck the CIA/Livin’ in the motherfuckin’ USA.. Surprise guest Moby played an acoustic version of Buffalo Springfield's "For What it's Worth."

Electro-ambient Fischerspooner delivered the most well choreographed and visually outrageous performance. With costume changes between every song, interpretive dancers spewing fake blood, theatrics that were part Ziggy Stardust, part Berlin cabaret, Fischerspooner packed more into their 15 minute set than any other act. Their most political song "We Need a War" featured lyrics by the late Susan Sontag.

Devendra Banhart performed four songs from his 2005 release Cripple Crow including the antiwar "Heard Somebody Say." The stick thin Banhart paced the stage in his black velvet suit and white tie, leaping, dancing, and shaking a percussion instrument disguised as an avocado. With his hippie demeanor and sprite-like presence, Banhart seemed a messenger from a different century: whether past or present it's hard to tell.

The most disconcerting segue of the night (if not of all time) came when Peaches strutted on stage seconds after Barnhart left. Dressed in thigh high silver platform boots and a black leotard, Peaches' electronic disco karaoke couldn't have been more different from Banhart's freak folk. With lyrics about titties, two boys for every girl, and fucking the pain away, Peaches made Alison Goldfrapp look like Charlotte Church.

Speeches from peace activist Cindy Sheehan, actress Susan Sarandon, and Chuck D. of Public enemy were interspersed between musical acts. The most sobering moment of the evening came when an Iraqi doctor explained through her interpreter the devastation the war has brought to her country. Bombs continue to be dropped daily, schools are used as military bases, and hospitals lack the most basic supplies to help the wounded and sick. "Our blood is very expensive," she said. "You cannot exchange it for oil."

Musically, the purest part of the night was Rufus Wainwright. After opening with "Gay Messiah" he dedicated "11:11," written just after September 11,th to New York. Next up was a rare performance of "Liberty Cabbage," the first song he ever wrote. Wainwright explained that during the Second World War sauerkraut was referred to as liberty cabbage, "It was the original freedom fries." An heartrending version of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" was followed by "Over the Rainbow," with his mother folksinger Kate McGarrigle on piano. This was a preview of Wainwright's upcoming Judy Garland tribute, which will recreate the actress' legendary Carnegie Hall performance at the Hall June 14th and 15th.

Bright Eyes' Conor Oberst elicited the most shrieking from the young women in the crowd. The highlight of his three song set was a supercharged electric version of "When the President Talks to God," perhaps the most trenchant protest song written in the past 30 years.

Michael Stipe closed out the evening with a more somber set. His band included ex-Smashing Pumpkins guitarist James Iha, former Miracle Legion frontman Mark Mulcahy, and singer-songwriter Joseph Arthur. The band performed no R.E.M. songs but did include Arthur's "In the Sun," which Stipe recently recorded as a benefit for Hurricane Katrina victims.

Whether or not the anti-war movement will be able to build on this momentum remains to be seen, but as Stipe said, quoting Dante, "The lowest circle in hell is reserved for those who, in times of great moral crisis, have remained neutral." Take a stand. Make yourself heard.

Rufus Wainwright is one of a handful of artists who upon first hearing I stopped what I was doing, felt every hair on my body rise up, and immediately called the radio station to ask who was that? When I bought his debut CD (the self-titled Rufus Wainwright) my initial thought was this boy has so much talent he doesn't know what to do with it. Like Roger Federer (if you follow tennis) who was widely regarded as the best player for a few years before he actually started winning major tournaments because he was so skilled at every shot and had so many weapons that he often got stymied as to which one to use, Rufus can do anything. Ballads, rock, opera, show tunes, waltzes, hymns. He can be funny or he can make you cry. Sometimes he does both at once. With each CD (he's got four now) he's gotten better at channeling that talent, if not exactly reining it in.

Although criminally under known by the public at large, he counts among his fans Leonard Cohen, Sting, and Elton John, who not only steered Rufus toward rehab when his crystal meth habit was veering out of control, but calls him, "the best songwriter on the planet."

So last week was a good week. A Rutopian kind of week. Tuesday I was in NYC to see him at The Beacon Theater. It's not every day you get to watch a performer get crucified wearing a blue Halston gown, but at a Rufus show you get a little bit of everything: music, comedy, dance and theater. Rufus has never been one to shy away from controversy or speaking his mind. He said recently that his song "Gay Messiah" started out as a joke but -- given the fundamentalist agenda of the current administration -- has turned into a prayer. He drove this point home by singing the number draped on a huge white cross, wearing the aforementioned gown as well as a beaux-arts mask and a crown of thorns (sparkly, of course.)

Later that night I dreamed that Rufus died and all his fans were bereft, but then he came back to life and let everyone hug him to show that he was real. I put my arms around him and he was solid, but when I looked down I saw that he didn't have feet and was floating about six inches off the ground. Funny how religious symbolism can affect your subconscious.

Rufus's witty stage banter alone is worth the price of admission and the quips were flying in New York He commented that the flares on his pant legs made him feel like "a Clydesdale. That's a kind of horse." Before "Go or Go Ahead" he said, "This next song I've pulled out of retirement. It's very angry and very demanding and I hope you enjoy me slaughtering my soul up here. Just enjoy." After the song he declared, "That song is like my youngest deranged daughter. I've got to send that song to rehab."

Introducing the bouncy new song, "Between my Legs" Rufus said it was "about a friend of mine who may be here tonight. No. He's coming tomorrow night. So let's talk about him. He's very good looking and that's dangerous for me." When Rufus introduced the same song at the Fleet Pavilion in Boston this past August (yes, I've seen him three times in three months) he read the first verse before singing it, "because it's so brilliant. I want to make sure you hear it." If you didn't know better, it might sound like he's full of himself, but everything is said with self deprecating humor and tongue firmly in cheek.

Rufus struggled with his voice in New York. Whether he was fighting a cold or was out of shape from having a month off is unclear, but his normally perfect control was missing, especially in the upper registers. There were times he'd open his mouth to hit a high note and nothing would come out. Rufus being Rufus, he just shook his head, rolled his eyes and moved on, but it was anxiety producing as an audience member, wondering when and if it would happen again. He apologized, saying, "I hope it's ok that my voice is a little funky tonight. I kind of like it. I'm used to it being perfect." Reports were it improved the next night, and by Friday, at the Calvin Theater in Northampton, it was almost 100 percent. (Note to Rufus: maybe this would be a good time to quit smoking.)

The only other thing that was off was the new speeded up arrangement of "The Art Teacher." Why mess with perfection? The CD version (on Want Two) is just Rufus and the piano and never fails to move me to tears. In concert he added drums, bass, and guitar which sounded overly busy and robbed the song of its pathos.

During "Old Whore's Diet" Rufus and the band left the stage and came back dressed in robes. While the CD version of the song played, they performed a dance spoofing opening band OK Go's irresistible performance of "A Million Ways." As "Old Whore's Diet" faded away, Rufus stripped off his robe to reveal the blue gown. Roadies dressed like Roman guards brought out the cross, the crown, the mask, and red lipstick, and Rufus sang "Gay Messiah." That was the end of the set proper. For the encore he came back out in a bathrobe and tube socks and sang a lovely new song called "Low Grade Happiness." The last two songs were the Leonard Cohen cover of "Hallelujah" which was on the Shrek Soundtrack and the uplifting "Beautiful Child."

Friday's setlist at the Calvin was pretty much the same. There was no "Natasha," "Vibrate," or "Low Grade Happiness," but we got "Pretty Things" and "Foolish Love" instead. One highlight was a perfect version of "This Love Affair" during which there was rapt silence in the audience and before which Rufus thanked Ok Go, "the cutest band in show business for opening for me. They're cute, they sound great, and they have nice butts." He let this sink in for a minute and then sighed, "Ok. On to tragedy."

He praised Northampton for being an "educated, charming, sexually advanced, pastoral place" and said he "dressed up hippie" for us with his rainbow stripes and scarf. No one can rock a scarf the way Rufus can. The man was born for neck wear.

Another highlight was "Go or Go Ahead" which starts out soft and wistful and builds to a dramatic gospel-like cathartic finish. Rufus also nailed Leonard Cohen's "Chelsea Hotel #2" a song about Janis Joplin:

I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel,
you were talking so brave and so sweet,
giving me head on the unmade bed,
while the limousines wait in the street.
Those were the reasons and that was New York,
we were running for the money and the flesh.
And that was called love for the workers in song
probably still is for those of them left.

Google the rest of the lyrics. They're worth it.

Introducing "The Art Teacher" Rufus said the most thought provoking thing of the night, "If Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, and I were playing poker and our songs were cards, this is the one I'd put down."

Rufus's band was superb. Jason Harp on keyboard, Jeff Hill on bass, Matt Johnson on drums, Jack Petruzelli on guitar, Juliana Ray on guitar and backup vocals, and Joan Wasser on violin and backup vocals. New Yorkers should not miss a chance to see Petruzelli's other band The Fab Faux – the world's best Beatles tribute band, playing songs live that the Beatles themselves never played. Word is they're actually better than the Beatles.

Ok Go plays bouncy 80's style new wavish skinny tie dance music. They try really hard to please and most of the time succeed. Bonus points for coming onstage to the Buzzcock's "Why Can't I touch it?" What really makes them irresistible is their choreographed dance for "A Million Ways" which they filmed in one take with one camera in one of their backyards and turned into a video. When they recreate it onstage the crowd is on their feet, screaming with laughter and appreciation. You can watch it on their website. And Rufus is right. They do have nice butts.

This interview with Dave Allen of Gang of Four was set up at the last minute. I'd known about its possibility for about a week, but as nothing was confirmed and I was on deadline for several other assignments, I didn't take the time to think much about it. On 4:30 Friday afternoon I got home from picking up my daughter and found an email telling me to be in Northampton for the interview at 5:30. Seeing as it takes a half hour to drive to Northampton, this gave me thirty minutes to get ready. Forget changing clothes or putting on makeup, what the f**k was I going to ask? You don't go into an interview with someone as savvy as Dave Allen unprepared. Sure, I'd been listening to his music for 25 years, but that wasn't enough. Frantically scribbling questions while driving, all I could think was, "oh no." But luckily Dave is one of those wonderfully easy people who practically interview themselves. All I had to do was steer him back on course every now and then and he was more than happy to talk.

It's always a risky proposition meeting someone you've admired for many years, but Dave didn't disappoint. Well informed, highly opinionated, smart as a whip – he's my kind of guy. After talking and then dancing like a maniac at the show, I drove home, crawled into bed and it hit me. Holy shit! I'd spent an hour and a half discussing politics with a member of Gang of Four. That's not unlike talking religion with the pope!

I love my life.

The interview also is posted on junkmedia.

Dave Allen may look a like a middle-aged SUV driving father of three teenagers from Portland, Oregon, but inside he's still the same acerbic bass player from Leeds, England who formed one of the most influential and respected post punk bands of all time. We met before Gang of Four's recent show in Northampton, Massachusetts to discuss what's wrong with American politics, the current deplorable state of rock music, how to make a relationship last, and why Conor Oberst is brilliant and Bloc Party is not.

I think Gang of Four's songs hold up extremely well 25 years later. Everything still sounds great, especially compared to all the bands today that sound like you. But I'm wondering how it is from your point of view, playing the songs again after all this time. How do you think they've held up?

I think regardless of the new breed of bands borrowing from our sound, it couldn't be a more opportune time to get back together, because the songs have always held up. As each decade has passed, someone's always revisiting the band's legacy. Especially now with so much going on in the world and rock music being kind of redundant – I think it's lost it's place as the vehicle for protest artistically – it's good to be back and remind people that you can have a great deal of credibility as a musician and an artist, have a lot to say that's poignant and represents the global situation, and then 25 years later come back and still be completely on topic.

Do you think there's any art form that has taken its place as a form of protest?

I think I'm beginning to see now that novelists are finding their feet, particularly post 9-11. The music that's taken the place of rock music in that pantheon is hip-hop. A lot of the rappers in hip-hop, especially the underground ones, but even Kanye West as a popular artist, are making pointed references to the administration's policies and tactics. Basically I think that Bush, Cheney, and Rumsfeld think that they're Romans again. What really happened in popular culture was there was a fear of the administration biting back and painting you into a corner if you criticized them in any way. It seems that any criticism of the administration, especially in the first term was met with a strong pushback. But now that façade has proven to be weak and broken.

There was very little protest against the administration in the first term. Post 9-11 it felt like everybody just shut up for about three years. No one said a word.

Right, which is understandable given the history of the United States. The mainland of the USA had never been attacked by an enemy so it must have been quite an incredible exposure to the world, if you will. Perhaps Australia also hasn't been attacked. Being European we have grown up with constant warfare. In England we had to endure the IRA bombings for years. It's part of the British way of life. The way it was after the London bombings recently – ok, let's get on with it – you don't get hysterical about it. I'm not suggesting that Americans do (get hysterical,) but they definitely reacted in I thought, a very strange way. I live here in the States so I'm a very keen observer. It was strange seeing (9-11) happen and then watching the response.

9-11 started to redefine how people look at the world and usually the first ones (to reflect) are novelists, painters or people who work in the arts. Surprisingly, none were rock musicians. None. Unless I'm completely out of touch, I'm not hearing anything, which is kind of maddening really. There are some bands doing it. I would expect Radiohead, I would expect U2, I wouldn't expect the Rolling Stones who seem to have had something to say about it on their new album. I'm talking about the new bands. I mean, what on earth are Bloc Party up to? Franz Ferdinand? All of these bands. They've borrowed our sound but they have not gone anywhere near our sociological lyrics. It's hard to describe what we do. I'm trying to avoid the word "political" because we're just not. We've been painted as a political band, we've been painted as a Marxist band. We're usually asked those questions by people who don't understand Marx whatsoever. We've taken to throwing that back in their faces a bit, "Well, what does Marx mean to you?" and they stare at you. (laughs)

Meanwhile our lyrics are really about the personal in the political and how every day you have a serious set of choices to make. The way John (King) painted "Natural's Not in it…"

One of my all time favorite songs.

Yeah, it's my favorite Gang of Four song actually, and I've been using that song as a reference point a lot, especially with the new young writers in the country who've been interviewing me. Just go back and get out that record and read the lyrics. It's all there. Everything you need to know about Gang of Four is right in that song. And don't go listening to "Armalite Rifle" because that was too pointed a reference to Northern Ireland. When we do that we're at our worst. Like "It's a Factory," we don't perform that anymore because I don't see why women anywhere in the world should listen to a bunch of middle aged white guys talking about their situation at home. It's been sort of dealt with. It hasn't been 100 percent improved, but women have a much greater standing in society now than when we wrote that song.

But the ones like "Natural's Not in it" or "At Home He's a Tourist" are natural conundrums. It's a very male point of view as well. It doesn't necessarily skew female, but we're trying to be inclusive of women in relationships. How do men and women have a relationship? What are the fires that burn that create the chemistry? When it all goes wrong you can say that well, the handbook you were given is not the user manual. It's really a reference point. Ask anyone here on the street in Northampton what that means and you're going to get this vast array of answers, none of which are anywhere near accurate. So John was always tearing that thought apart and rebuilding it.

So saying all that, are there any thoughts about writing new songs?

We're talking about getting some (recording) equipment for the bus, which is news to me. John was talking about it. I jokingly said, "What, are you working on a solo album?" (laughs) There seems to be some idea of our doing a song for the new movie "V is for Vendetta," another of those Sim City comic book style movies, so that would create the issue of having to sit down in a room and having to write some new material. We've never said no, but we've never had it on the agenda. Our commitment has been to touring and there's no fixed limit to that either. Things keep coming up that we keep doing.

How did the songwriting work back in the day?

Well that was the problem. We only could do it sitting around in a room all day, jamming basically, and every time we got something we'd strip it apart. There's the prototype and the scaffolding. We'd take away the scaffolding and not like that too much so then we'd redo it and we'd end up with a song like "Anthrax" which was a very circuitous route. There's massive feedback, a very simple rhythm section and John and Andy saying, "Yeah, you do that and I'll do this on the vocals." It's not something you can lie in bed at night like Bob Dylan who might write "A Song for Sarah" and it's pure poetry with very simple chord structures. We don't even do that. We don't have verse, bridge, chorus. Often our songs change every night onstage. They're not fixed. So to be able to do new material means getting two of us who live in the U.S. over to two guys who live in London who don't actually socialize and all getting back in the room.

Who else lives in the States?

Hugo (Burnham,) the drummer. He lives in Gloucester (Massachusetts.)

So you're not even on the same side of the continent.

No. good thing too. (laughs)

Well, it will be interesting to see what you come up with.

I think we could do some brilliant work. I think the challenge is you've got Entertainment and Solid Gold which are held up as the all time classic albums, so how do you do a new one that captures all that spirit and captures the zeitgeist we have available to tap from in the world today and meld that into songs that don't repeat the formula?

What did you do in your time off from the band?

I've been extremely busy. I formed another band.

Shriekback.

Yeah. That kept me busy all the way until 1988 and then I met my wife in L.A. where she lived. We got married and I moved to L.A. and started a record label called World Domination which I ran for about ten years. During that time I formed an Internet company called iMusic which was a music portal. We were working closely with Real Networks with tiny bits of data to send over the phone lines. It sounded like shit but it was a breakthrough at the time. Then I got the bug for dealing with all things Internet and ended up working for Koch, a big distributor of independent music, and became their Internet strategist. Then I went to emusic.com as general manager. We were the world's first paid download site. We were what iTunes is today, but even more unencumbered. There was no security whatsoever for our mp3 files so the record companies hated it. I ended up in Portland (Oregon) because Intel picked me up to help them with Internet connected products like mp3 players.

Are you still with Intel now?

No. I left Intel and formed my own company called Pampelmoose which is a high end web development company. We built the Gang of Four US website. We build flash music players, that kind of thing.

I saw Shriekback twice and I don't think I've ever danced so much at a show; it was so much fun.

Yeah, great band. I miss that too.

What's Barry Andrews up to these days?

I don't know. I was just in London and (guitarist/vocalist) Carl Marsh, the one who I'm in touch with the most, seemed to think that Barry had moved back out to Swindon. There was some talk that he patched up his relationship with what's his name from XTC…

Andy Partridge?

Yeah. After all those years, and they've been doing some recording.

You mentioned that you thought that the novel was having more of a comeback as a protest form. Are there any novelists you particularly like?

There are a lot of novelists I like. I'm reading the new Cormac McCarthy. It's brilliant. And I really like his Western trilogy. He's just got a way with words that opens up a whole area of the West to me that I didn't understand before.

Jonathan Franzen I really like. Not so much for The Corrections, which I thought was a great novel, but for a nonfiction book of his, Essays on Privacy, which came out after 9-11. He pointed out something I'd never thought of before. Americans consider privacy to be wrapped up in the constitution – "we have this right to privacy" – but they don't understand it doesn't mean it's protecting your right, it's more you have a lack of privacy. He was pointing out situations like during the Clinton impeachment period when he couldn't get away from anything to do with the impeachment. It was on the TV, in the newspapers, there were all these salacious details about Monica Lewinsky. He said he was horrified by it. He said his privacy was invaded. I thought that was a really interesting take because we worry so much about… my credit card company is sending me letters all the time, "We are protecting your privacy." When you think about it, it could be a great Gang of Four song. No you're not. You're actually invading my privacy. I don't want these letters from you telling me how you're protecting my privacy. It becomes this massive bureaucracy almost like Brazil – the movie.

I think it's brilliant in a sense how the American people pull the wool over their own eyes, how they do not question authority. And especially post 9-11 they think that the government should have more authority. Otherwise they'd be freaking out about…

How unsafe they are.

But they're not unsafe, so therein is the rub. It will be the democrats whenever they get back in power who will continue doing it. They will keep reminding Americans how terribly unsafe a world it is and how we're always threatened by attack. The Brits did it too with the IRA. They passed laws through Parliament that meant you could be held for seven days without access to a lawyer. It was because before, when we captured terrorists we had to either charge them or release them within 24 hours. And these kinds of things are (treated like) "Let's just sweep that under the carpet." In Britain at least there was a lot of criticism about it and they undid it, but here it's being taken for granted. It's only going to get worse before it gets better. I don't know what it's going to take to alert the American public to the fact that…

New Gang of Four songs?

(Laughs.) I doubt it somehow. We'll never be given visas to work again. I don't know what it's going to take for people to wake up to the fact that everything's fine. I believe quite strongly that there'll probably be another terrorist incident on a large scale because it works really well for them to do that. All terror groups operate in the same manner. You scare the living daylights out of the public, not the government. Governments don't topple that easily. Once public opinion turns against the government, then they go.

Does music have any role in this? There aren't all that many bands who mix politics with music.

No there aren't. and yet you can look back. Bob Dylan I recently saw him doing "Masters of War" which is a brilliant song that he wrote so many years ago about Viet Nam. Perhaps you don't need new bands and new music. You can just look to the Viet Nam era. Well actually I'm going to correct myself there because what that does is leave out generations of new listeners who have never heard that stuff and have no inclination to do so. So yeah perhaps we do need some bands having a good old yelling and shout about that, but that's not going to happen in the U.S.

What about the whole "Rock the Vote" thing? That obviously didn't work, but what did you think of it?

I thought it was awful and I thought that tour that Bruce Springsteen did in support of Kerry with R.E.M. and Pearl Jam was the biggest single disaster. I could see the Republicans gleefully egging them on. "You get out there because you're going to alienate 50 percent of America." It played right into their hands. I was deeply embarrassed actually. You can't go out and stridently stand onstage being multimillionaires who in the past have not really done that much to affect change.

If you're wanting support for the democrats and trying to stop Bush, I don't think that's the best way to do it. Politics is all about sound bytes. You have to pinpoint the strategy so it's a sniper's bullet, but this sort of blunderbuss shotgun approach…

So you think it could have worked if they had had a clearer message?

Absolutely. I think the last thing the public wants is to be told what to do. By anybody. The poor are suffering the most in these elections and they are the people who managed to go and vote for republicans. The messaging is sent to them in a very clear way: "Without us you're going to be living in an unsafe world. Don't trust the democrats." The democrats didn't have a message to go back in and say, "No, vote republican and you'll be a lot worse off in four years. I guarantee it." Explain why and people might begin to understand how to vote. But it just doesn't seem to occur. The democrats lost the battle because they have no spine. Their fear of losing votes from the center means that they don't operate from the left. They operate from the center and they're all spinning around in circles. I vote democratic just out of my conscience.

Are you a U.S. citizen?

Yes. But I'm really appalled and I've given up for now. I'm just waiting to see when they'll get their act together and challenge the republicans. Get your shirt off and have a fight! You're not doing anything. It's ineptitude. No one dare says anything..

What's touring like now that you have a family?

Massively different. I've been trying to analyze that actually. I've been writing a lot of stuff down. I'm 50 this year so that's an interesting point in your life to start thinking about these things. I realized that I haven't ever had the male menopause, the male midlife crisis, which I've noticed a lot of my friends have had. I think that this [indicates dressing room, club] is an interesting way around it. If you're an artist it helps relieve a lot of those interesting problems you could have. And it goes back to the lyrics like "Natural's Not in it," back to the mundane-ness of everyday life. My wife and I are both creative people. I could do a lot less. Believe me I'm not driven by work, but I keep going because I have all these bills to pay and it's for my kids. I could live a very simple existence but my kids don't seem to be able to. It's probably our fault, but they cost me a lot of money. But I've never had that waking up in the morning (and thinking) "I want to have an affair or buy a fast car." It's passed me by somehow.

Because you don't feel like you're trapped in a bad job.

Exactly. So the point is that being away is challenging, but I'm doing what I think everyone should do and that is have your own time, even when you're in a relationship. I think the problems with the divorce rate and other relationship fractures is that if you're constantly with someone and always knowing (what the other person is doing) maybe a lot of people can thrive on that, but I can't. I don't want to know everything. I don't even need to know what my kids are doing every single moment.

But it's getting to the point where my wife was freaking out, feeling like she was a single mom and obviously the pressures are higher on her, so she flew out last night. She's in New York and I'm going to go there tonight and see her. I'm really looking forward to it, but there has to be a little cut there. You say "I have to do this" because the alternative is not to do it which might not go down too well in our lives. I think we need to do it and we have to get the Biritsh stiff upper lip out without putting too much hardship on us. The difference is that we've already been doing fine financially and this is all a big bonus. So for her to fly in and out, I can afford that now. She's been to Japan, London, Paris, New York. We're making time for each other within this new circumstance whereas 25 years ago we didn't have relationships or if we did they were put on hold for three months while we went on the road.

How do the kids feel about it?

They're ok. First of all they're magnificently excited because the band is so well known in certain circles.

They think it's cool?

Oh yeah. They've met everybody. We lived at Joni Mitchell's house in Los Angeles. That's where they grew up. We rented from her so she'd come over occasionally and collect the check. Flea from the Chili Peppers is a good friend of mine. When (Gang of Four) started up again the kids came down to Coachella, which was the first US show, and they were on stage with Trent Reznor, Flea, and Conor Oberst, over whom my oldest daughter nearly fainted. She wasn't looking at me playing. (Laughs)

He's got a great protest song. Have you heard it?

Brilliant. Actually I'm glad you mentioned it. The one he did on Leno?

Yeah. "When the President Talks to God."

I missed him off my list of good people to mention. That last album of his, the double CD is brilliant. The other guy who has the option when he cares is Ryan Adams. If he wasn't too screwed up all the time he might notice there's a world out there. But his new album's really good. I'm a big fan of American folk music. That song of Conor's is a wonderful folk song in the vein of early Bob Dylan and I think Ryan has the ability to do that too and that's what we need. We need people who don't give a flying damn.

Who aren't afraid to speak out.

Exaclty. That's what Gang of Four did. That's the only way we achieved what we did. We would not change our lyrics for Top of the Pops. It was the kiss of death to be thrown off that program but we got thrown off. It was because of the line "The rubbers they hide in their top left pockets." That was 1979. The irony is that a decade later everyone's singing about condoms and talking about them because of the AIDS crisis.

Didn't you have a song that got banned in England too?

That was "I Love a Man in a Uniform" because of the Falklands War. We're fully expecting it to be banned again. There might be a delicious irony in that the Top of the Pops apparently wants us to play during this tour. I think we're going to end up going on and playing "At Home He's a Tourist" the song they banned. (laughs)

John has pointed out in many of these interviews that everyone thinks that the Sex Pistols were the all time anarchy band that got thrown off this program and that program, but we got banned more times than any other band in the world. But you often didn't know because we weren't good at self publicity.

So going back to Ryan and Conor, hopefully they will inspire yet another generation. It may seem unfair but I'm really dismissive of bands like Bloc Party and Franz Ferdinand. They're just out to be on MTV and sell millions of records. I'm not saying that just because they've been aligned with us in the press musically, I'm just not interested in bands that do that. I don't care two hoots about Smashing Pumpkins selling millions of records. Billy didn't speak to me. Kurt Cobain did, so I loved the fact that Kurt was selling millions of albums.

Well let me ask you this, because I just saw both Franz Ferdinand and Bloc Party at the Austin City Limits Festival. I kept going back and forth in my mind with both of those bands because they're great fun, they write catchy songs, they look good. They just have no depth. But then I'd think, so what? So they have no depth. Isn't it ok for some bands just to be fun? Does every band have to be intense and deep?

Well unfortunately, no band has depth. We just pointed out two musicians out of many thousands that we can think of off the top of our heads. Ryan Adams, when he gets his act together and Conor, who I received demos from at my label when he was twelve. When he was Commander Venus. It was a brilliant little tape. I called him and spoke to him and asked if I could talk to his parents because he said in the letter, "I am only twelve. This is my demo."

That's so cute.

I hope I've still got that somewhere.

It's probably worth a lot of money.

And then we've got Radiohead and U2, but in this middle ground it's all insubstantial fluff. And I don't think that's right. I don't care, because I don't spend a lot of time worrying about this stuff, but I don't believe you should be allowed to have a band that uses everything in its power to sell more records rather than using some of that power to have something to say. Because it's a death by a thousand cuts, isn't it? The reason I can say that rock music has no functionality in culture any longer is purely because there's no depth to any of the artists operating in the world of rock music. If more and more bands keep doing that then the whole art form becomes redundant, so who would want to work in it?

Meanwhile go over here and you have Kanye West and his "Sierra Leone" song, accusing his culture of being too attached to bling when you have to understand that the miners work in dangerous conditions to get the gold to make the bling. Why is it left to these guys? It's interesting that the protest movement was rock and roll, but it's not any longer. It's hiphop. That's all I listen to.

Right now on my iPod is the Bright Eyes double album, the new Ryan Adams, Arcade Fire, who I think are really brilliant, tons of Bob Dylan, and then tons of hiphop. Atmosphere, Madlib, Dell the Funky Homosapien, even the new Damien Marley I just bought. "Jamrock." That single is amazing. I can't say that about hardly any rock bands. Bloc Party by rights should be knocking my socks off, but I can't stand them. I really can't. It's totally unemotional fluff. I don't like it. The other guys if they ever read this will hate me for saying it, but I don't think we can tiptoe around it. If we're going to be the elder statesmen of rock we might as well be as abrasive as we were when we were the younger statesmen of rock, right? Back in the day we would point out the errors of rock and roll and we'd name names. It's an artist's right to say things, but I think there's a lack of forthrightness in the culture. I don't think it serves me or the band not to be honest about it. I like a little integrity in life generally. That's just me. Ornery as ever. (laughs.)

This past weekend I died and went to rock and roll heaven. And even though it felt more like the fiery pits of hell, it was worth every sweaty dust-choked minute. The Austin City Limits Festival is like the grand finale at the fourth of July fireworks when everything's exploding at once and you don't know where to look and it's really loud and your senses get all overwhelmed and it's like a big Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally orgasm. With 130 bands on eight stages over three days, ACL is a musical smorgasbord of cruise ship proportions. There are gospel bands, folk singers, pop stars, country bands, and many of the best alternative bands around.

First we need to talk about the heat. Holy crap it's hot. Brain-melting, soul-sucking hot. Friday is 101 degrees and humid. We think that's bad, but then it gets worse. By Sunday, (the hottest day of the year in Eastern Texas) the temperature at the Austin Airport reaches 108. That's right. 108. With humidity. And full sun. So picture this: you're outside in this insane heat, you've been waiting months to see your favorite band, so you're damn well going to plant yourself at the barrier to get a good spot. You're slathered in sun block because the UV index is off the charts, you're sweating rivulets, and there's a hot wind blowing a desert's worth of dust around. The dust gets into your eyes, up your nose, into your lungs, and sticks to every part of your body. When you finally stumble home and into the shower, you watch the water around your feet turn black and even though you scrub and scrub, there's no way it's all going to come off. But hey, sometimes you've got to suffer for your rock and roll, and it certainly beats the original forecast which called for hurricane Rita to deluge the Austin area with rain and wind, worrying organizers that they might have to cancel.

On to the music.

Friday:

I miss the first band I want to see – Kasabian – because it takes an hour of driving around downtown Austin before we can find a parking garage that isn't full and doesn't say, "No Event Parking." I just catch the last bit of their last song as we walk onto the grounds. The first band I do see is Mates of State. I'm not familiar with their music, but at the urging of my friends I check them out. They are adorable – catchy, perky pop that sounds a lot fuller than just the organ and drums the two of them play. They attract a big crowd of fans who know all their songs. This proves to be true for every band I see and warms the cockles of my cynical heart no end. Alternative music is alive and well in the heartland despite lack of support from commercial radio and video stations. Long live the musical underground!

Next up is Lucinda Williams. She may not be young or indie, but boy does she have soul and grit. She looks and sounds great, and plays some new songs and some old favorites. She dedicates "Crescent City" to the victims of hurricane Katrina and ends with a breath taking version of "Get Right with God." I want to be just like her when I grow up.

I pop into the media trailer to cool off a bit after Lucinda and before Spoon and overhear one of the photographers grumble, "I guess I have to go take pictures of Spoon. Why does everybody like Spoon?" Excuse me, but how is it possible not to like Spoon? What's not to like about clean, rhythmic, danceable rock with interesting obtuse lyrics? I've wanted to see them forever and they do not disappoint. In fact they are so good, I stay to see their whole set and miss my chance to take pictures of the Allman Brothers, which is ok, because as I see when I make my way there, the Allmans are charting new territory on the grizzled front. They still kick all kinds of southern rock ass though, and they play a set of crowd pleasing hits like Melissa and Whipping Post.

I've never been a huge Black Crowes fan but I've always thought they'd be a great band to see live and they are. Chris Robinson says from the stage, "This is our first time playing ACL – the only place where hippies and rednecks can get together and have a little session. And the only place where you can say 'hippies and rednecks' and no one gets offended." Between the Allmans and the Crowes, the smell of pot is so thick that everyone in the crowd ends up stoned and goes home happy.

Saturday:

Tegan and Sara are one of the few acts to cancel due to weather related travel problems, so the first act I see today is Martin Sexton. He hasn't changed much from the time I saw him at a new artist showcase maybe eight years ago, but he blew the competition out of the water that night and continues to write engaging blues-inspired folk rock. His voice soars from baritone to falsetto and even though he's one person he fills the stage.

The funny thing is that before Martin Sexton I take pictures of Built to Spill, but I have no memory of this until I'm home four days later, and uploading my photos. I remember watching their set from the shade while drinking my Starbucks iced coffee, but that's about it. They were great. Yeah, great. No really, I liked them. And I met a nice guy from London at the Starbucks booth who says his friend works in music publishing and is looking for photographers. Did I mention it's hot?

Next up is Death Cab for Cutie who I've always thought of as the most boring band ever to become inexplicably popular. They're better than I think they're going to be; they rock more live and are less shoe-gaze-y than on record, but I don't think I'll ever love them.

The Walkmen really surprise me. When I saw them last winter I was unimpressed, but they must have just had an off night, because they explode with energy here. Despite the fact that the late afternoon sun is blazing down on their backs and into the faces of the crowd, they inject everyone with a dose of New York cool. They work hard, sound great, and look like they care whether people are enjoying themselves, which was not at all the vibe they put out when last I saw them.

I don't care how derivative Jet are, I have a weakness for 70's inspired rock sung by scruffy skinny boys. Unfortunately their set is up and down – they're great when they rock, but lose the crowd with too many ballads. It's only when they play "Are You Going to be my Girl" toward the end that everyone goes mental.

Next it's onto Bloc Party who provide one of the most fun and upbeat sets of the weekend. It's impossible to listen to this band and not move your body. Their CD's are ok, but they really shine as a live band. Again, the crowd for their set is huge and most people seem to know all the songs. Lead singer Kele Okerere says before their set ends, "This is our last song." Everyone moans. "Sad but true. Hopefully we'll be back in the not too distant future, but you've got Oasis to endure *cough* enjoy, so that shouldn't be too bad."

I couldn't agree more. Can someone please explain to me why Oasis is so revered? Has everyone been brainwashed by the Gallagher brothers egotistical hyperbole? Their songwriting is solid, but their voices are so whiny it's impossible to enjoy them. I keep an open mind for their set, but god they suck. They have no energy and look like they'd rather be anywhere but Austin. They're also the only band all weekend who show up late. Thankfully, I'm not the only one who thinks so. The next day I meet Marcus Congleton from Ambulance LTD. (who turn out to be one of my favorite new bands) and we have a nice chat about the extreme lameness of Oasis. Even people who like them say their ACL set is sub par. The night ends on a down note.

Sunday.

Sunday starts out with one of the bands I'm most looking forward to seeing: Eisley. They may not be dark or edgy (and lord knows I love dark and edgy) but they're one of the few bands who I fell instantly in love with upon first listen and have loved ever since. When I first got their Laughing City EP it didn't leave my CD player for months. If you don't know them, they're three sisters, a brother and a cousin, from Tyler, Texas. They started the band ten years ago, when they were pre-teens and now in their mid-teens to early 20's are seasoned professionals. I can't get enough of their piercingly lovely harmonies and dreamy melodic song constructions. I force my friends to leave the hotel early enough to catch their 12:30 set and despite the unbearable heat, their fans have turned out in great numbers.

Their set includes songs from their two EP's and one LP and they introduce a new song called "Many Funerals" which has almost a Celtic feel to it with Stacy and Sherri trading off lead vocals and harmonizing. Later I arrange to interview them and they are genuine and forthright. They all talk at the same time and I can barely scribble down what they're saying, never mind who's saying it. Stacy says her keyboard was so hot onstage it burned her fingers and Chauntelle says that they stay sane on the road by being their own support team. "We have fun together. We call ourselves the 'best time buddy hang out crew,'" she admits, at which Stacy gives her a horrified look and says, "I can't believe you just said that."

I also meet their parents Boyd and Kim, who I've always been curious about. They are friendly and open and don't seem to be stage parents with a hidden agenda to push their kids to fame and fortune. They're a normal family, just a very talented one. When Kim says she's not feeling well because of the heat they all agree to leave even though it means they won't get to see any other bands, including Coldplay, who they toured with in 2003. They start recording their next album in December.

After Eisley I head for something completely different – M83. These three guys from France blow me away with their dark brooding predominantly instrumental electronic stoner music. They're loud enough to make your eardrums bleed, but you'll hardly notice. They are one of the best acts of the weekend. Go see them if they come anywhere near you.

Next it's off to perhaps the oddest press conference pairing ever – Jason Mraz, Dierks Bentley, Marcus Congleton and Darren Becket from Ambulance, LTD., and Colin Meloy and Chris Funk from the Decemberists. The condensed version is that everyone is looking forward to seeing the Arcade Fire except for Dierks Bentley who has never heard of them but will now check them out for sure and Jason Mraz who is really bummed he's playing at the same time as the Arcade Fire. Colin says the Decemberists will start recording their next album in April or May and that their fans raised $15,000 to help replace the instruments which were stolen at the beginning of their tour last spring. "It's made us realize how profoundly lucky we are to have the fans we do," he says, making us all feel warm and fuzzy.

Between the press conference and the Eisley interview, I miss the Doves and the Kaiser Chiefs, but I hear the Kaiser Chiefs from a distance and they sound tight and very high energy. Then it's off to possibly the most buzzed band of all time – The Arcade Fire. They've had the buzz market cornered for the past year and don't seem ready to relinquish it anytime soon. Even Chris Martin name-drops them from the stage. In fact, during the Arcade Fire performance, none of the other bands or people with access are allowed to watch from the side of the stage because Chris, Gwennyth, and Apple are there and security protects them as if they were William and Harry. During his own performance later, Martin says something along the lines of, "When you see something as brilliant and original as the Arcade Fire, you have two choices. You can either let it destroy you or you can let it inspire you to do better. We've chosen to let it inspire us."

I've avoided jumping on the Arcade Fire bandwagon thus far. Nothing turns the music critic in me off more than a band that everybody's drooling over that I haven't discovered first. It's petty and I'm not proud of it, but there it is. I thought their CD sounded like Talking Heads lite and couldn't see what the fuss was. Well, ok, I get it now. Their set is amazing. There are at least nine people onstage and every one of them is having the time of their lives despite the heat and the fact that they're dressed in black. Regine has gloves on, for god's sake. They make a huge joyful noise that just builds and builds. They're quite irresistible and I succumb to their charms. A security guy standing near me comments that they remind him a bit of Polyphonic Spree and I can see the similarity.

Next up is the other highlight of the weekend – the Decemberists. Colin Meloy is at his charmingly nerdy best in a red and white striped carnival barker jacket, gesturing the crowd to be quiet and kneel down during "The Chimbley Sweep," and pleading with the one holdout before getting him to cooperate. I secretly think his real motivation is to try and hear Bob Mould, who's playing on a different stage and whom he earlier admitted hating having to miss. During "The Mariner's Revenge" they get everybody to scream like they're being swallowed by a whale and Chris Funk brings out a giant pair of white cardboard whale jaws and proceeds to "eat" all the band members.

Unfortunately I have to tear myself away forty minutes into their set to make my way across the field in time for Franz Ferdinand. They have an absurdly huge crowd gathered, all of whom go berserk with every song. It's hard not to like Franz. They make light-hearted angular pop that you can dance to and with the myriad natural and man-made disasters in the news lately, we all need a little fun in our lives. Their new songs sound great, if a lot like their old songs, but (and my friends are going to kill me for saying this) the band is two dimensional and lacks depth.

Closing the festival is Coldplay. As an obsessed Radiohead fan I have mixed feelings about them. On the one hand, their songs are genuinely likable, but on the other hand it's pathetic how hard Chris Martin tries to be Thom Yorke. It's also annoying that he's made millions and achieved mega-fame by creating watered down Radiohead for the masses. Having said that, I do enjoy their set. Martin knows how to please a crowd, changing lyrics to suit the setting and getting people to sing along and take pictures together to "light up the sky." They do a mini acoustic tribute to Johnny Cash and sing "Ring of Fire," which the Texans love. And as the music ends and 65,000 voices are left singing how the lights will guide you home, it's hard not to break out in goose bumps.

The stage was dark, the only light coming from images projected on a screen behind the musicians. What were those images? Beats me. I couldn't really see them since I was on the balcony directly over the left side of the stage. I spent the first fifteen minutes squinting down and trying to figure out just what was happening. Eventually I saw that there were three people onstage – two women (who turned out to be the Casady sisters – Sierra and Bianca) and a rapper/beat box guy whose name is Spleen. No one moved much. One sister was standing (Sierra?) and the other was seated, playing an odd variety of instruments including a cluster of children's toys. Once I figured out what I was seeing, I started listening. At the end of each song there was polite applause and you could hear the audience thinking a collective, "what the fuck?" This is the point where they started to grow on me. Anyone who can make my jaw drop for a good fifteen minutes is worthy of my attention.

When the opportunity came up at Junkmedia (a music site I write for) to review CoCoRosie's new CD Noah's Ark and to interview them, I jumped at it. I wanted to know what made them tick. You can read the part that got edited out of the interview because it was too long below. You can hear the show I was at here. NPR broadcast it live. It's worth listening to all three bands (the excellent Tilly and the Wall was the third.) Conor Oberst played his brand new protest song "When the President Talks to God" that night and though you can't really tell from the recording, the audience went crazy at the end of each verse. My friend Ginger swears she saw Jenna Bush standing in the middle of the floor with her arms crossed looking unhappy during this song. To me the Bush twins look so much like generic cookie cutter sorority girls that I wouldn't recognize them if they were at my own dinner table, so we'll have to take her word for it.

Speaking of the Bush family, if you want to have a good laugh at W's expense (and who doesn't?) click here to learn the truth about all those wacky things that come out of his mouth.

It would be a shock to everyone who knows me if I didn't dedicate my first entry to Radiohead, so here we go. The band headed back into the studio a week or so ago to work on their seventh album. (Can you see me bouncing in my seat?) The album is due next spring with touring to follow. (Can you see me bouncing off the ceiling?) They've started a blog on their website where they're charting their progress in their delightfully twisted and quirky way. See it here: http://www.radiohead.com/deadairspace/

Back in April, Thom Yorke took part in the Trade Justice Rally in London. At 3 a.m. a hundred or so lucky marchers were treated to an unannounced solo acoustic performance at Methodist Central Hall. He played Last Flowers til Hospital, (an old song that's never been recorded) House of Cards, (a new song) and Big Ideas, No Surprises, and Reckoner, (all older songs.) I would be more than happy to share these with you if only i could figure out how to get this newfangled blog thang to upload them. Soon. I promise.

The only other time Radiohead came close to performing this year was at the Ether Festival, which my camera and I (and about 20 of our closest friends) attended. You can see my photos of Thom Yorke and Jonny Greenwood here.

Random thought:

We were in Montreal the week before last and my daughter and I noticed that the female department store mannequins had nipples. She asked me why they weren't wearing bras and I realized that mannequins never used to have nipples. Did they? When did mannequins start having nipples? I guess it makes them look more realistic, but it's kind of hard not to gawk at them and then feel pervy. And if they're going for realistic, why are so many of them headless? Check this out. In the same store that featured the perky braless female mannequins, there was this display of headless children:

I have enough trouble sleeping at night, thank you.

Check back here often for live reviews, concert photos, cd reviews, and more.