Well, the Saddle Creek Records story is online, all 3,500 words of it (Read it here). In an extensive Q&A, label operators Robb Nansel and Jason Kulbel talk about looking for new bands, Team Love Records, Bright Eyes hysteria, radio, marketing, not being millionaires, Slowdown, the Omaha scene and the label’s future. The story will also is published in today’s issue of The Reader, which probably won’t be distributed until sometime tomorrow. The entire interview clocked in at over 5,000 words. Some of the out-takes will be used in next week’s Lazy-i column (which means they’ll be online next Thursday). I’ll probably also include a description of Creek’s swank new offices, which also didn’t make the cut. Enjoy.

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Remember that scene in Ghost Busters where Sigourney Weaver’s neighbor/accountant, Louis Tully played by Rick Moranis, hosts a party over at his apartment as a business write-off? The classic moment comes when Louis’ blonde, pony-tailed girlfriend pouts because no one’s dancing. “Maybe if we dance, everyone will join in,” Louis says, and the two start doing a shag in the middle of living room. There was sort of a reenactment of that scene last night at O’Leaver’s during United State of Electronica’s set. Here’s a band that’s used to having people dance at their shows – their electrified disco demands it. Ah, but U.S.E. has never been to Omaha before, the home of sit-and-stare. About three songs into their set, I was beginning to worry that Omaha was going to live up to its no-dance reputation when the bass player from Aqueduct got up and started wriggling in front of the band in a desperate attempt to get people off their asses. Finally, someone got the bright idea of moving the tables and chairs out of the way, and the fun began. By the end of U.S.E.’s rather short set the entire area up by the band was crowded with sweaty white people trying to groove to the band’s good-time music. It took awhile, but about half the crowd actually loosened up, though there were still plenty of people in the back sitting and nodding to the beat. Hey, I was dancing too… in my head.

Opening band Aqueduct was a pop trio of bass, keyboards and drums playing beat-heavy synthetic rock in sort of a Cars-meets-Ben Folds style. The lead singer/keyboardist has a smooth rock voice that works well with the band’s simple pop arrangements that consist of lots of synths, percussion augmented by electric beats, and bass played by a guy with robot moves straight out of Devo.

I liked Aqueduct’s style, but it was clearly U.S.E. that the packed house came to see. It took a good 20 minutes for the band to get their gear, sound and home-made light rigs set up and arranged on the time tiny “stage.” There’s seven people in the band, including two women backing vocalists, a guy who yelled phrases like “Omaha, we love it!” and “Bright Eyes!” and “Saddle Creek!” to get the crowd energized, and another guy who sang into a vocoder, a sound effect that epitomized the band’s retro-tinged disco vibe. Live, U.S.E. rocks harder than on disc, even throwing in a few guitar solos, but overall they were somewhat rough, with a made-in-my-basement quality — this was, after all, only the third show of their two-month tour. Regardless, it was the bass and drum track (the live drummer was somewhat lacking) that got the crowd moving, eventually. Said a stunned Jeremy the bartender, amazed at the party that erupted in in front of him, “Dude, you should have brought your camera.” Omaha, it seemed, had learned how to dance.

Note to O’Leaver’s: It’s time to replace or fix your sound system. The static throughout both band’s sets would have been distracting if the crowd hadn’t been on their feet shaking their asses.

Tomorrow: The massive Saddle Creek Q&A. As a warm-up, read Part 1 — the 2001 Lazy-i interview with Robb Nansel.

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Like the headline sez, U.S.E. tonight at O’Leaver’s. The real question is whether anyone comes out to the show. With press in both the OWH and The Reader, you’d think so, but it’s a Monday night and this is Omaha. On a certain level, I’m hoping people stay away just so I’ll be able to get inside the place.

This weekend was something of a washout for attending live shows, for me at least. Not because there wasn’t anything worth seeing, but because I’ve been killing myself writing a 3,500-word cover story on Saddle Creek Records for this week’s issue of The Reader, which will be online at Lazy-i Wednesday morning. In addition, I ran down Todd Grant for this week’s column, which’ll be online Thursday morning. It’s strange not going to a show over the weekend, especially with the weather we’ve been having, but I hope to make up for it this weekend with OK Go at the Underground Friday night, The Nein at O’Leaver’s Saturday and the aforementioned Todd Grant and his band opening for Dolorean on Sunday (and that’s followed by Head of Femur next Monday and Son, Ambulance Tuesday).

And speaking of giving a head’s up — U2 announced they’ll be doing a show at the Qwest Center Dec. 15, with tickets going on sale March 19 ranging from $50 to $165 per. The Herald has the story on their site here. How fast this will sell out is anyone’s guess. It’s the first important arena show to hit Omaha in years.

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Seems the singer/songwriter gods are smiling on Omaha more and more these days. In addition to the king of local singer/songwriters — Simon Joyner — at O’Leaver’s tonight, Omaha golden-age legends Todd Grant and Scott Roth (Such Sweet Thunder) have been added to the Vago/Icarus/Civil Minded show at the Ranch Bowl, likely as the very first band. Grant, who’s 1994 CD Strangled Soul continues to be relevant after 11 years, will be the focus of this week’s Lazy-i column (online Thursday). Consider tonight’s show a preview of what you’ll hear when Grant and his new band take the stage opening for Dolorean a week from Sunday at Sokol Underground.

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Only two shows worth mentioning this weekend. Tonight it’s Les Georges Leningrad at Sokol Underground with Lincoln’s notorious Zyklon Bees and noise-rock favorites The Lepers. Using the exciting new mp3 jukebox at the One Percent Productions’ website (it’s just to the right of the logo at the top of the page), I listened to one of LGL’s songs — sounds like Sonic Youth-flavored post-punk, and pretty good at that. $8, 9 p.m.

Tomorrow is the return of Simon Joyner and the Wind-Up Birds to O’Leaver’s with Outlaw con Bandana. The last time I tried to hear Simon at O’Leaver’s I ended up doing it from the parking lot because it was so unbearably packed inside. I suspect it’ll be a replay tomorrow night, especially if the weather holds out. $5, 10 p.m.

Column 15 — Dawn of the Dead Air

As you’re browsing through the newsstands at your local Borders, Barnes & Noble or Hy-Vee, prepare to be startled by the cover of the March issue of Wired magazine. The dark, glossy image shows a smoking bullet exploding through the front of a red transistor radio — a take on the famous Doc Edgerton bullet-through-the apple photo.

To the left, in big, bold letters: THE END OF RADIO.

The headline, I suppose, was intended to shock. The end of radio! My God! What will we do now!

Here’s a news tip for the folks at Wired: Radio’s been dead for a long, long time. At least for me, and for a lot of other people who grew up listening to the FM. Back in the day, the radio was the only outlet to really hear new music besides the record store. I still remember hearing a cool new song and waiting with baited breath for the DJ — then the ad hoc program director — to tell me what they just played so I could run down to Homer’s or Peaches or Pickles to pick up a copy to throw on my own turntable.

Those days are long gone. Tuning through the FM now is like walking through a pasture and deciding which pile of cow flop to tip your toe into. You’ve got a ripe choice between today’s retro, today’s hip-hop, today’s kuntry klassics and today’s goon rock — all with a solid rotation of about 12 stale songs. The only other choice is between the talking drones on NPR or the talking jack-asses on the AM.

Radio’s downward spiral began after the Telecommunications Act of 1996, which gave a handful of faceless suits the ability to gobble up every station in every market. Once in, the suits fired the programmers and sanitized the play lists by passing them through a dumbing-down process consisting of focus groups, consultants and Billboard charts. Forget the deep cuts. Forget the obscure, cool artists. The word of the day was homogeneity, and radio’s new catch phrase was “Love it or leave it.”

Well, it looks like people are leaving it. In droves. According to Wired, despite the fact that every week 200 million people still tune into Big Radio (their euphemism for Clear Channel and the other evil congloms), the number of daily listeners has slipped to 1994 levels, with the coveted 18- to 24-year-old demo falling nearly 22 percent since 1999.

Sounds gloomy. But if you just glanced at that Wired cover, you might have missed the real story written in parentheses below THE END OF RADIO, where it says, “(As we know it)”.

The magazine’s special section breaks down like this: A feature on Howard Stern going to satellite, a piece on Adam Curry’s (yes, the guy from MTV) pioneering efforts in podcasting, and a story titled “The Resurrection of Indie Radio” that features a show hosted by Sex Pistols guitarist Steve Jones — Jonesy’s Jukebox — on Indie 103, a Clear Channel-backed station in Los Angeles. What? Clear Channel you say?

Of the technologies discussed, it’s the one featured in the Jones story that’s the real hope for the future. They call it High Definition radio — digital radio broadcast over the same wavelength as conventional analog radio, but with near-CD quality sound. That by itself is innovative, but the best part is that digital stations will be able to broadcast as many as six different shows simultaneously on the same channel. Stations like Indie 103 could have an “A channel” with regular programming, and a “B channel” that reruns Jonesy’s Jukebox or any of their other specialty shows. Or to put a local spin on it, imagine listening to 89.7 The River and being able to hear the indie program New Day Rising whenever you wanted instead of just at 11 p.m. on Sunday night.

This is where Clear Channel comes in. They bought all the advertising time on Indie 103 and are reselling it, essentially ensuring the tiny station stays afloat. Clear Channel knows that High Def radio, which is now only in its infancy, is the only way it’s going to compete with technology like mp3 players, satellite radio or podcasting. It’s the only way to provide the sort of variety that listeners thirst for now more than ever. The future of radio, it seems, is in niche programming. And that future can’t come fast enough.

Just posted, a profile/interview with United State of Electronica (note that there’s no “s” on the end of State). Read it here. This should be a radical show for O’Leaver’s — if people show up, that is. Imagine seven disco queens jumping around O’Leaver’s tiny “stage,” pumping out a night’s worth of thump-thump-thump disco action. Will it turn into a dance party or just another night of sitting around, leaning over the rail with a beer in hand, switching between gawking at the band and watching NCAA basketball? We’ll see next Monday night. I mentioned to U.S.E.’s Noah Star Weaver that the gig would have been better suited at a roller skating rink, and he agreed. “We were actually thinking of doing a show at our local skating rink.” Now wouldn’t that be a change of pace…

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Whoda thunk upon hearing their early, weird stuff that Modest Mouse would be around long enough to either catch on or assimilate to Clear Channel acceptability? The trio of vocalist/guitarist Isaac Brock, bassist Eric Judy, and drummer Jeremiah Green started playing together in 1992 in the Seattle suburb of Issaquah, Washington, releasing their first single on Olympia’s K Records in 1994. A number of singles and an EP followed before they recorded their 70-minute debut, This is a Long Drive for Someone with Nothing to Think About on Up Records. The follow-up, ’97’s The Lonesome Crowded West, would be their first breakthrough, igniting a major-label bidding war that Sony Records would eventually win. Last year’s Good News for People Who Love Bad News was their second breakthrough, garnering immediate radio play and a spot on the Billboard top-20.

Despite the hype, the songs on Good News… fell somewhere in the middle between weird and catchy. The hits “Float On” and “Ocean Breathes Salty” would fit right in at your typical family barbecue, with its bouncing guitar lines and sing-along lyrics. But old-fashioned yellers like “Bury Me With It” and “Dance Hall,” hearken back to the band’s UP Records days, sounding like a weird morph of Primus, Talking Heads and a sideshow barker. But even here, there’s a sense of restraint, almost as if they think they’re getting too old to do weird stuff anymore. And maybe they are.