While interviewing Dereck Higgins last week we talked about his shows late last year at, among other places, O’Leaver’s. Higgins played with only a prerecorded CD, his guitar and his voice, and the results were less than stellar. “I don’t like playing alone,” he said. “There was a bit of me feeling that this is fucking karaoke, even though I recorded all the parts.” But another problem was that Higgins has never felt that his music is conducive to a bar setting “People are there to get drunk and get laid,” he said. “They’re not focusing on the music.”

Fine, but if you’re a rock musician (or in Higgins case, an ambient pop musician with British prog overtones) where else is there to play but in a bar? Ask yourself when was the last time you saw a band (not a cover band, not a blues band, not jazz guys) perform outside of a club or festival setting? The under-21s aren’t the only ones who have something to complain about — there are very few places to see live, original rock music without being smoked out or boozed on.

Thanks to singer/songwriter/popster Richard Schultz, Higgins found an outlet at the Omaha Healing Arts Center. The venue was hardly new him. Higgins performed there back in June 2003, playing bass alongside one of his personal musical heroes, The Chameleons’ Mark Burgess. Situated in the heart of the Old Market, Healing Arts is a combination health food store, restaurant, yoga gym and massage/physical therapy outlet. Unlike the usual smokehole booze huts I’m used to attending, Healing Arts is a veritable oasis. The converted warehouse-style building sports a main room that feels like a New Age church, with high, beamed ceilings and a skylight that stretches 30 yards or so along the entire room. Sure, everywhere you look there are portraits of yogis and other spiritual types, and there is a distinct “hippy vibe,” but overall, it’s really just a nice, tranquil setting.

For Saturday night’s gig, the stage had been set up along a wall halfway down one side of the long room. Schultz had strung Christmas twinkle lights along the rigging, stretching the green plastic chords overhead to the opposite wall. It gave the place a sort of outdoorsy feel. First up was a band of youngsters called One Mummy Case — youngsters that is, except for Higgins, who played bass in the band. With two teen-aged multi-instrument lead singers, a keyboardist and drummer, One Mummy Case is the next generation of Simon Joyner/Conor Oberst singer-songwriters, sporting styles that are similar to both. The hour-long set was remarkable for a first-ever gig, the band playing to a room filled not only with music fans, but with family (moms and dads) and friends. Talk about pressure. Regardless, you’d think these guys had been performing on stage for, well, months at least, especially considering that a few of them looked no older than 15. Where else but a no-alcohol place like Healing Arts could a band like this perform?

A half hour later, Higgins own band took the stage. It was quite a contrast to the one-man karaoke-style bar shows. The band, which included John Friedman on guitar, Bill Eustice on bass and Jeff Tegtmeir on drums, turned Higgins’ usually spacey, keyboard-driven ambient movements into full-out rock songs, showcasing Dereck’s skills on a number of scorching guitar solos. With a band behind him, Higgins was clearly more relaxed and confident, and is songs never sounded better, though I missed the mult-tracked harmonies (Come on, Eustice can sing, can’t he?). It was nice to go home from a rock show and not have to strip off my smoke-infused clothes.

Tonight, it’s back to the smokey confines of Sokol Underground for a showcase of Omaha and Lincoln bands including Back When, Mr. 1986, Paria and Father. $7, 9 p.m.

Bob Mould — Body of Song (Yep Rock) — No one loves ol’ Bob more than I do. Since Workbook, Mould has created some of his most interesting and lyrically moving material, either by himself or with those Sugar boys.

That said, Body of Song is a curiosity of sorts. Mould has decided that good songs and his own voice just ain’t enough, so he’s enlisted the most annoying technological accouterment of modern dance music, the vocoder, just like the one Cher used on her madly successful dance albums. I gotta believe its just residue from 2002’s Modulate and its supporting tour, where Bob played mad scientist with the beat box.

Thankfully, the dancing Bob with the robot voice shows up sparingly on Body of Song. Mould instead mixes styles that span from the Husker days (“Best Thing”) to Workbook (“Gauze of Friendship”) to Sugar (“Circles”) to File Under: Easy Listening (“Missing You”), only skipping the beautiful bleakness of Black Sheets of Rain (I guess because Bob’s a popster now).

The dreaded vocoder pops up on “(Shine Your) Light Love Hope,” a track that unnecessarily electroplates textures over Bob’s voice while adding plenty of sweaty thump-thump-thump dance beats. It doesn’t work, at least for this old-school fan. How would the track have sounded sans technology with straight-up rock drums? We’ll never know. We only get a slight synth line added to the guitar roar on “Paralyzed,” but “I Am Vision I Am Sound” is yet another trip down the runway.

Ah, but then there’s the good parts. “Days of Rain” is a straight-up back-beat rocker, unrestrained and chiming with the same vulnerable vocals heard on Workbook. “Best Thing” is the kind of Mould that everyone’s been waiting for, complete with the line “You just lost the best thing you never had.” “High Fidelity” is a sappy, traditional guitar ballad that no will be expecting, while “Missing You” flies atop a layer of Mould-on-Mould harmonies and a brash mid-song guitar solo.

Yeah, it would have been better without the electro-dance stuff, but overall it’s the best Bob has done since File Under… Rating: Yes.

Adam Richman — Patience and Science (Or Music) — Songs like second track, “Suck It Up,” try to meld early Bob Mould riffage with Richman’s Guster-esque vocals and rhythms, which means this is a pop record that’s trying to rock and, for the most part, succeeds. Richman’s earnest whine can get close to precocious at times, but the clean rhythm section keeps it pumping ahead in classic indie (pop) rock fashion. Richman’s lyrics are the same ol’ boy/girl relationship bleatings that don’t add much to the discussion. Track “Mary-Ann” is Richman’s H&O “Rich Girl” with lines like “Mary-Ann shows up wasted at my door / Mary-Ann takes my bed leaves me the floor / Mary-Ann you’re such a whore.” Okay, we get it. Despite trite lyrics, the CD holds up on its hooks, riffs and that clean, crisp rhythm section. It’s summer rock, it’s kinda cheesy, and it’s a step down from Guster, but it’ll do. Rating: Yes.

Summer at Saddle Creek
A first look at the label’s summer releases.

Coming off last year, a few of us know-it-alls laughed in our best Muttley wheezes at the prospects of poor Saddle Creek Records. “They blew their load in ’04,” we said, pointing at the CDs released by most of their best-selling artists, including two of their (current) Big Three. Sure, there were those duo Bright Eyes releases in January, but other than that, what was there to look forward to in ’05? A few of us (actually, just me) hypothesized that the label had expected its Slowdown project to go down this year, and purposely kept the release load light. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

With summer burning hot on our backs and August just around the corner, Creek again finds itself with a plethora of releases from new artists and second-tier statesmen that could draw as much revenue as the ’04 contingent. Here’s an early look at what’s headed down the road.

Orenda Fink — Invisible Ones (Release: Aug. 23) — The other half of Azure Ray takes her shot at a solo project with better results. While both Fink’s and co-hort Maria Taylor’s CDs are more upbeat and interesting than anything they put out together, Invisible Ones raises the bar even further. “Bloodline” is hot ambient rock, like a laid-back Faint track, maybe because Mr. Fink (the former Mr. Baechle) plays guitar and keyboards on it. “Les Invisibles,” with its mock choir, jazz flute and Fink’s droning melody, sports the same dreaded undertone as Tricky’s “Christiansands” with Fink playing the Bjork role. “Animal” is downright tribal, while the “Dirty South” is downright filthy. They aren’t all departures. The mewing “Miracle Wonder” and “Easter Island” could have come off the last Azure Ray CD along with “Blind Asylum,” in spite of its cello-plucking accompaniment. So which is the better of the two? I’m not saying.

Mayday — Bushido Karaoke (Released: June 21) — Is it me or is this the most upbeat thing Ted Stevens has recorded under the Mayday moniker? Damn right it is. I wouldn’t call it rock, as much as honky-tonk or blue-grass or just plain fun. “Continental Grift” is as funky as these white guys get. “Old World New World” is a banjo-pluckin’ skipper, while “Father Time” recalls a dusty Ennio Morricone soundtrack sung by rednecks. It’s probably no coincidence that Stevens’ voice resembles David Byrne’s since his songs do as well (albeit with a twang). Yee-haw.

Broken Spindles — Inside/Absent (Release: Aug. 23) — Mr. Lexus commercial himself starts his new one sounding like that same Lexus commercial — all noodling-keyboard-spider-web-tinkling spook — before floating into the thump-thump-thump electronic pulse of “This Is an Introduction” — a track that proves Joel Petersen’s atonal vocals are no longer mere novelty. In fact, they’re a necessity, adding Depeche-Mode drama to dance-floor poser “Please Don’t Remember This” and Faint-outcasts “The Distance is Nearsighted” and “Painted Boy Face.” For contrast, Petersen returns to the creepy Lexus-tinkling a few times too many, but not enough to bring down the disc. Too laid-back for the runway, Inside/Absent confirms that Broken Spindles is more than a Faint side project.

Criteria — When We Break (Release: Aug. 23) — Easily the most commercial-flavored CD Creek has ever released, When We Break is pure FM-ready back-break indie rock in the vein of such scorchers as, say, The Jealous Sound, Jimmy Eat Word or (dare I say it) Cursive. The diff is in Stephen Pedersen’s soaring bird-call melodies and the stutter-step, boot-on-your-neck, five-beat rhythms that have all the subtlety of a drunken waltz on meth. A.J. Mogis has emerged as Pedersen’s Michael Anthony harmony-wise (though he more closely resembles a shaggy Walter Becker). Because the hooks are easier to find and less dissonant than Cursive’s, more modern-sounding than The Faint’s and more radio-ready than Conor’s, this one could turn Creek’s Big Three into The Big Four.

What’s missing? Cursive’s The Difference Between Houses And Homes (Lost Songs and Loose Ends 1995-2001), slated for release Aug. 9. Why? Because I haven’t heard it yet. The 12-song collection includes two previously unreleased tracks and 10 from out-of-print 7″s. Consider it a prelude to what lies ahead, as Cursive brushes the dust from its shoulders and reenters the fray in 2006.

Now online, a feature story on legendary Omaha musician Dereck Higgins (Read it here). The story focuses on Higgins’ new CD, Dereck 2, which he’ll be performing at a gig this Saturday night at the Omaha Healing Arts Center. Some of you may have seen Higgins’ performances this past fall with only his guitar and a drum machine. Well, he’s formed a band for this show that includes John Friedman on guitar, Bill Eustice on bass and Jeff Tegtmeir on drums. Also on the bill are rock upstarts One Mummy Case (of which Higgins also is a member), and Omaha power popster (popstar?) Richard Schultz and the Miracle Men. You’ll save three bucks if you make your reservations for the show now at 345.5078. Otherwise it’s $8 at the door.

Tonight it’s Epitaph recording artist Motion Picture Soundtrack down at Sokol Underground with The Working Title, Veda and This is Me Smiling. 9 p.m., $14.

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The last time I saw the Femur they were a small band of three or four musicians pounding out proggy noise with the exuberance of a child begging for attention. And they got it. They deserved it. Their sound has grown a lot in the past couple years. So has the band. Once a trio, last night no less than eight musicians were on stage playing everything from trombone to trumpet to violin. Still, its frontman Matt Focht, guitarist/vocalist Mike Elsener and drummer Ben Armstrong who are at the core of the outfit, orchestrating all the beautiful noise in a much more traditional fashion then when they started. Let me put it this way, instead of straight-up indie prog, Femur — who always carried a burden of influences on their songwriting shoulders — at one point sounded like the reincarnation of The Band playing an obscure Mott the Hoople tune with the help of Consafos guitarist Billy Talbot Jr. (the progeny of Crazy Horse’s Billy Talbot). It was one of many highlights that included a fine mix of songs off Hysterical Stars (the new one) and Ringodom of Proctor (the old one), as well as a cover of Elvis Costello’s “What’s So Funny About Peace Love and Understanding?” It was all good.

Femur is probably the first among the current-day indie flock that epitomizes that sunshine, good-times, Sunday-in-the-park-stoned sound of classic roots and prog rock ’60s and ’70s bands like Blood Sweat and Tears, The Moody Blues, Procol Harum, King Crimson and The Nice. And they do it seemingly without even trying. My problem with the scores of neu-retro acts like The Shins, New Pornographers, and Of Montreal is that while their music is catchy and kitschy, their obvious retro-adulation is clearly orchestrated and always forced. Femur sounds like Femur because that’s what Femur is. Sure, it’s obvious that they grew up listening to their great-uncle’s record collection, but the honesty, purity and hippyness of their sound is impossible to deny. They’re at Knickerbocker’s in Lincoln tonight again with Kite Pilot and Consafos.

In the Old News Dept: Saddle Creek Records will be releasing the next full length by San Francisco duo Two Gallants. I (and most of Omaha it seems) knew about this for months, but try as I might no one from Creek would confirm it. Hmmm… Two Gallants… What did I say about their show last January when they opened for Rogue Wave at Sokol Underground? “Two Gallants, a drum-and-guitar duo, opened the show with a set of long, three-quarter-time ballads that married Arlo Guthrie with Janis Joplin (sort of) to create a nasal-esque folk-blues ‘explosion’ that seemed to go on and on. Every tune felt three minutes too long, but I guess the guy had a story to tell.” Now I remember those guys. They wound up playing in Omaha a second time, and that’s when they caught Creek’s ear, or so I’m told. On paper, they seem like an ill fit for a label that has little use for obvious retrograde noodling (if you don’t count The Faint), but who can argue with Creek’s record of success? It’s also been pointed out that this is the first band signed with absolutely no ties to any other band on the label. They’ll be playing the Saddle Creek Records’ CMJ showcase at The Bowery Ballroom in Sept. 16, and will be headed back to Omaha for a gig with Holy Ghost Revival Sept. 30.

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What a way to start a week, eh? Head of Femur, Consafos and Kite Pilot at Sokol Underground. The new Femur CD has been out for a while and I’ve yet to hear a track from it. On the other hand, I have heard Tilting at Windmills, Consafos latest. It’s a laid-back, twangy sort of thing, acoustic and lean, somewhat stark, somewhat lonely. Even the rockers, like “Seneca,” with its Neil Young guitar lead, wilts as it lilts, bending downward upon Stefanie Drootin’s girlish vocals. Meanwhile, “Angel from Hell” feels like a dreamy carnival ride of a lullaby, leaning this way and that on its woozy waltz-time beat. Consafos should be an interesting contrast sandwiched between Kite Pilot’s new-wave pop and Femur’s over-the-top prog-rock explosion. $7, 9 p.m.

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About a week ago Todd Grant called to tell me about a reunion show for his old band, Compost, explaining how he’d managed to talk guitarist Matt Rutledge and bassist Mike Fratt into playing together one last time at Mick’s in Benson. An hour after our chat, Grant left a message on my answering machine saying that it would be his last performance ever, that he was hanging it up. I didn’t give the comment much thought and never called him back to pursue it further. Little did I know that he might have been telling the truth.

Compost never played a note last night at Mick’s. I won’t go into all the gory details, other than to say that while the band was doing its sound check, Grant made a number of insulting comments about Mick’s owner Michael Campbell over the microphone. Whether he was kidding or not, the crowd didn’t like it and began yelling four-letter epithets back at him. The next thing you know, Grant was calling out someone in the crowd, and then charged off the stage after him, swinging his guitar over his head. At first I thought he was goofing around — just Todd being Todd — but then a table went over and things started breaking. From my vantage point at the back of the packed room, I couldn’t see what happened next. A crowd converged around Grant, and he was quickly escorted out the back exit of the club to much cheering and jeering, while Rutledge and Fratt packed up their gear with their heads down.

I’m not sure exactly what went down moments later behind the club and then in front of it, when I heard pounding on the front window. It was a weird, intense situation. People were running back and forth from one end of the club to the other. And then the police arrived. I’m told Grant wasn’t arrested. From the look on Campbell’s face I’m sure he won’t be playing at Mick’s again anytime soon.

Afterward, Rutledge said, “Well, I guess you got a spectacle tonight.”

“Yeah,” I replied, “but I would have preferred to have gotten the music.”

It would be an understatement to say that Todd Grant has proven to be a volatile performer — a risky bet for any show promoter or club owner. He’s been involved in similar altercations at O’Leaver’s and Duffy’s within the last few months (The O’Leaver’s incident, Grant told me himself, involved him swinging a microphone stand at a table, sending broken glass flying that hit at least one patron. He says he doesn’t remember doing it). There aren’t that many venues left that will even allow Grant on their stage. That said, if in fact we have seen the last of Todd Grant as a performer, it’d be real shame. His performance opening for Dolorean last March at Sokol Underground backed by Tim Kasher, Dan Crowell and Mike Brannan was something special, and I’m told the recordings he made with that band at Artery Studios are remarkable, though it sounds like we’ll never get a chance to ever hear them.

Back at Mick’s it didn’t take long for things to get settled and Jeff Carlson’s new band Sonata Form quickly took the stage, announcing “Todd Grant has left the building,” which received a round of applause. I caught four or five of Carlson’s songs — more on his music at a later date. I high-tailed it down to O’Leaver’s to catch the very tail end of Criteria‘s set. O’Leaver’s had been cleared of all its tables and chairs to make way for the SRO crowd. If you got there late you probably didn’t see a thing, but you could certainly hear it. O’Leaver’s used the show to break in their shiny new PA, and frontman Stephen Pedersen felt the brunt of it on his lips, thanks to some kind of electrical problem that resulted in him getting shocked all night. All the microphones had towels wrapped over them held tight with duct tape in a desperate effort to dampen the electrical charge. Apparently that still didn’t help much. Regardless, what I heard sounded like the usual Criteria rock set — bold and angry. Now the band is off to Europe and London for a tour in the aftermath of yesterday’s bomb attacks.

Meanwhile, back in Omaha, the weekend’s shows look pretty light. Tonight Mal Madrigal gets a chance to try to tame O’Leaver’s red-hot mics when they open for Luke Temple ($5, 9:30 p.m.). There’s also a hip-hop show down at Sokol Underground featuring Buck Bowen and Surreal ($7, 9 p.m.). Nothing’s jumping off the calendar for Saturday and Sunday nights. The Zoo Bar in Lincoln is hosting its anniversary show Saturday featuring Charlie Burton and Forty Twenty. Sokol Underground is hosting a metal show that night as well with Bloodcow. Looks like Sunday is a day of rest.

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The headline says it all. As mentioned Tuesday, Compost is/was singer/songwriter Todd Grant, guitarist Matt Rutledge (The Third Men, The Sons of…), bassist Mike Fratt (Goodbye, Sunday) and drummer Mark Quinn. Mick’s website is now calling it an “acoustic reunion.” Compost will play second. The headliner is former Gladhands/Fifth of May frontman Jeff Carlson’s new band Sonata Form (which also includes Quinn). Opener is Bunny Geist. $5, 9 p.m. For what it’s worth, Grant left a message on my voicemail saying this will be his last performance.

Meanwhile, Criteria is playing a free show at O’Leaver’s. I’m not sure why it’s free, since they could pack the place at $5 a head. Guess they figure they’ll be making enough dough on their upcoming Euro-America tour, and that this would be a fine way to give back to their Omaha friends. No opening acts. O’Leaver’s has said this will be an SRO event — no seating. That means if you’re not standing up by the stage, you won’t see a thing. Perhaps they’ll move the band to a different area of the bar, but I highly doubt it. It should be a crush scene. I’ll be at one (or maybe both) shows.

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Column 32 — The Border Wars
Which side are you on?

A couple weeks ago I got into a late-night Internet argument with local musician Matt Whipkey (of Anonymous American) about the plusses and minuses of bands playing bars located west of 72nd St. — the proverbial line of demarcation that historically divides Omaha the City with Omaha the Suburbs.

It’s the old cliché: Depending on which side of 72nd you frequent, you either dine at chain restaurants or at small bistros, shop at strip malls or at mom-and-pop retailers, listen to cover bands or dig original music by original artists. Argue all you want if the line should exist, but exist it does. And oh how those who live on either side refuse to cross that imaginary border.

Whipkey had wanted some hype for a gig his band was playing at Shag, a new club at 114th and Dodge (the former Funnybone location). I had to laugh. You want people to take your band seriously when you play west of 72nd? The only thing out in the land of strip malls is cover bands and meat markets.

Whipkey didn’t flinch. Before you go shooting your mouth off, see for yourself, he said, adding that Shag owner Terry O’Halloran is trying something different. Besides, it would be good for me to step outside of my usual indie enclave of O’Leaver’s, Sokol Underground and The 49’r. And, honestly, it ain’t so far away.

He was right. It took only 10 minutes for this proud citizen of Dundee to make his way past the monolithic overpass construction to Shag’s sleepy strip mall with its seemingly endless parking. The lot was so well-lit that I could have driven “the good car” — something that’s not recommended if parking on one of the dim-lit back alleys that surround Sokol Auditorium. Once inside, another oddity — the bar didn’t stink of 100 years of smoke and stale piss. And instead of stark, beer-sign glare, Shag’s tiki-influenced interior glowed with warm, ambient light cast by giant rose-colored ceiling shades. Instead of having to stand all night to watch the bands, I sat in a luxurious (faux) leopard-skin high chair. And talk about innovation: Shag has this gimmick where young women called “waitresses” actually bring you your drinks! Huh?

Performing on this Sunday night along with Anonymous American was local original band The Ointments. Guitarist/frontman Reagan Roeder, bassist Kyle Harvey (an accomplished singer songwriter in his own right) and drummer Landon Hedges (frontman of indie band Little Brazil) pounded out a style of power pop that merged Television, Matthew Sweet with Teenage Fan Club. The West O crowd of more than 100 ate it up, just as they devoured Anonymous American’s Stonesy, twangy, alt-country rock. Both acts were a far cry from your typical cover band.

O’Halloran said Shag’s bread-and-butter is its Thursday-through-Saturday crowd who come to unwind over vodka drinks, music videos and the hope of catching a little opposite-sex action. He indulges himself with live music on Sundays — usually national touring blues bands — but is experimenting with local original acts as long as they’re not too edgy. “Anonymous American is non-offensive, quality music, and is as good as any national touring act,” he said. “Hiring local original bands brings in people who haven’t been to the club yet.” People like me.

Shag’s not alone in this brave, new world. The Spotlight at 120th and Blondo and The Prestige Club at 152nd and West Maple are both straying from the cover-band formula by booking local original acts, trying to fill a void created by the closing of The Ranch Bowl and the long-forgotten Music Box. Could this be the beginning of a Western migration?

O’Halloran is skeptical. Also the operator of Murphy’s Lounge (the old 18th Amendment), he explained that West Omaha’s high rent and high overhead demand the kind of revenue that only cover bands (and their beer-guzzling following) can draw. “In East Omaha, the rents are lower, the overhead’s not as high and having a huge draw isn’t as important.”

And then there’s that crazy 72nd St. border. “The reason why the Saddle Creek guys are opening their club north of downtown is because that’s where their fans are,” he said. “The stigma about east and west of 72nd Street is probably accurate.”

Some clichés, it seems, are hard to shake.

First, a brief glance at the weekend. I caught just about 8 minutes of The Doobie Brothers at Memorial Park last Friday, and I must say, they sounded rather good. My vantage point was below stage right as I waited for them to finish and for the fireworks to begin. Note to self: Always view fireworks from this vantagepoint — they were going off right over my head.

Sunday night was a long one. It started with a trip to West O to check out Shag — you’ll read more about that tomorrow when I post this week’s Lazy-i column. On stage was The Ointments — a trio featuring singer-songwriter Reagan Roeder on guitar/vocals, singer-songwriter Kyle Harvey on bass and singer-songwriter Landon Hedges on the skins. The result is guitar-fueled power-pop a la Matthew Sweet or (in a couple instances) Teenage Fanclub. Sound good? It would sound even better if the songs had better hooks. While all three are competent musicians, the songs fell flat and were generally forgettable — which was surprising coming from three talented singer-songwriters. They were followed by what I’m told was a two-hour set by Anonymous American (or two one-hour sets, as Whipkey says he was planning a break in the middle to sell merch). I caught most of the first set, and as always Whipkey and company delivered high energy Stones-meets-The Boss-meets-altcountry rock, complete with the Whip’s trademark drumset dives.

I took off at around 11 and hightailed it to O’Leaver’s where Baltimore’s The Wilderness was about to take the stage in front of 30 people tops. Despite the thin crowd, the band played a potent set of feedback-driven, guitar-chime rock driven by throbbing tribal drums and lead singer James Johnson’s John Lydon-style chant vocals. Johnson, looking like David Cross but with (a little) more hair, did a weird T’ai Chi-style slow-motion dance, at one point wrapping himself around a post and laying on the ground pounding his palms to the floor. Weird, in an early David Byrne sort of way. I guess you had to be in the right mood, and I was, while the guy next to me hated it.

Kite Pilot, featuring new drummer Jeremy Stanosheck, was next. I’d heard from a couple people that their last O’Leaver’s gig was spotty and off-kilter. They sounded pretty spot-on, however, Sunday night, unveiling a couple songs from their upcoming CD, which were something of a departure from the stuff on their EP. The opening song, for example, was launched by full-on screaming by Austin Britton before moving into more traditional territory. Another sported numerous time- and key changes that at first felt awkward before it all pulled together in the end. I’m guessing their new music will be more challenging for the traditional listener to grasp; it’ll also likely be more rewarding. We’ll see when the CD becomes available later this fall.

And now glancing toward later this week — Thursday to be precise — when two interesting shows will be taking place concurrently. First, influential ’90s-era LinOma band Compost will reunite at Mick’s in Benson for one night. The line-up includes guitarist/vocalist Matt Rutledge (The Third Men), bassist Mike Fratt (Goodbye Sunday), drummer Mark Quinn and guitarist/vocalist Todd Grant. Headlining the show is Sonata Form, a new project by Jeff Carlson, formerly of ’90s power-pop act Gladhands.

Meanwhile, the same night down at O’Leaver’s, Criteria will be playing a last-minute set (apparently by themselves). Frontman Stephen Pedersen says it’s a free show. I’m guessing it’s a tune-up before the band takes off on a European tour for a couple weeks, eventually swinging back to the U.S. for a handful of dates with The Appleseed Cast.

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