One advantage to being a music writer other than getting free CDs in the mail all the time is getting on “the list.” Most newspapers (The World Herald for instance) don’t allow reporters to be “on the list.” Reporters aren’t even allowed to keep the CDs they’ve reviewed for fear that it might give an impression of impropriety. That’s not a problem at alt weeklies (or online ‘zines, for that matter), where receiving free stuff is one of the chief motivations for writing in the first place. Impropriety be damned.

That said, I was on “the list” plus one last night for the Bright Eyes show at The Orpheum. After eating a fine Mexican dinner at Trini’s I considered bypassing the whole event. It was already 9:30, and I’ve seen Bright Eyes more times than I care to admit. But since we were walking in the general direction of The Orpheum, we figured we might as well take a peek.

The Orpheum is an amazing venue, absolutely gorgeous, like walking into a New York Opera House (or what I imagine one to be like). If you’ve never been there, you need to go at least once before the City decides to bulldoze the place to make room for a parking garage (now that we have their cold, sterile Holland Center). Our seats were in The Loge in the front box on stage-right — actually the two front seats of the front box — so close you could watch the rock stars stumbling around backstage.

Spoon already had begun their set and I quickly realized the drawback to our location. Sure, you were close enough to piss onto the stage, but you’d have to heave it over the stack of sub-amps stacked on either side. At first I didn’t think I’d need earplugs — not here, not in this home of perfect acoustics. But after a couple minutes, I put mine in, and after a few songs, it was like I wasn’t wearing earplugs at all. The bass so dominated the sound that you could hear or feel little else. This must be what it’s like inside one of those rattling Escalades that you can feel approaching your car about eight blocks away. The sound was worse than bad, it was horrible, (at least from our seats).

Spoon walked through its set with mechanical gusto. Britt Daniel played the role of the frontman with as much panache as he could muster, looking like a thin version of Gary Busey circa The Buddy Holly Story. His one rock star trick was dropping to his knees to face a small amp, his back to the audience as if trying to leech feedback from his guitar. While I like Spoon’s records, last night, it all sounded the same except for the few numbers where the band played drawn-out, droning endings. It was a boring set that seemed to go on forever, but maybe that’s because I was being shaken to jelly by those sub-amps.

Between bands The Orpheum’s lobby swelled with hipsters desperately trying to down as many drinks as possible before the next set (no drinks allowed inside the theater). I ran into a few people I knew, all of whom had seats up close but against the wall, and all complaining about the bass. I don’t think these types of theaters were designed to handle this sort of music, certainly not this sort of sound equipment.

It wasn’t as bad when Bright Eyes came out, serenaded by a harp. Though the harpist played on half the songs, I never really noticed her other than during the opener, “Sunrise, Sunset.” It was ornate and pretty. The rest of the time it was drowned out by, well two drummers (Clark Baechle from The Faint and Jason Boesel from Rilo Kiley), Mike Mogis on electric guitar, a trumpet (I think it was Nate Walcott), and bass. The harpist also played keyboards and vibes, and sang harmonies on one song.

Conor looked relaxed in his too-tight pants and button-down shirt. He spent most of the time between songs complaining to someone off stage about the monitors, pointing at his microphone and then pointing up, occasionally doing impromptu sound checks and saying “I need a little more” while, again, pointing at the mike. It reminded me of a Warren Zevon concert I saw at the Ranch Bowl years ago. Zevon did the same thing — pointing at his mike and angrily jerking his finger upward to some poor soundguy in the back of the room, before he finally blew up and threw his keyboard to the ground. Conor didn’t do anything like that last night. He just ran through his playlist, which included selections from throughout his career. The most amusing part of the show was watching Clark Baechle get up from behind one of the drum sets like a trained bear, walk up to the front of the stage and play clarinet. He’s pretty good at it, too.

Conor did the obligatory “thank you Omaha” speech, and acknowledging his family in the crowd. He said the last time he was in The Orpheum was for his graduation, then did a mock reenactment with Mogis playing the role of his principal. He went on to say how much he hated his f—ing school. That was the only controversial moment of the evening. After about five minutes of clapping, Oberst came back out for an encore that started with an angsty rendition of “Lua,” where he painfully pulled every note from his guitar. It was the highlight of the night. The band came on after that to play a song I didn’t recognize before belting out “Ode to Joy,” the usual set closer, and my cue to leave.

Two good shows on tap tonight. At O’Leaver’s Mal Madrigal is playing with Shiny Around the Edges. The Madrigal band this time consists of Mike Saklar (guitar), Ryan Fox (bass), Eric Ernst (drums), Dan McCarthy (accordion, keys etc.), and of course, frontman/guitarist Steve Bartolomei. The band just finished recording a live, all-analog set of songs using old vacuum-tube mic pre-amps and two linked tape machines. Shortly after this show, Bartolomei will be headed to Europe to play bass on tour with Mayday. 9:30, $5.

Meanwhile, in the heart of Benson at Mick’s, Dereck Higgins and his band will be opening for Goodbye Sunday and Stephanie Pilypaitis. This is the same band that backed Higgins at his Healing Arts gig last July (here’s that show review). $5, 9 p.m.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

What are we in for tonight at The Orpheum? Going to a Bright Eyes show used to be like going to Sunset Speedway to see something blow up good. Will Conor be so loaded that he’ll barely be able to stand up? When will he throw something at the audience or spit on someone? Will he stumble off the stage halfway through his set? Will he smash his guitar after the encore? Will he accidentally insult half the audience or the entire state of Nebraska? The operative words here, however, are “used to be.” Bright Eyes sets these days are rather tame affairs. Maturity has caught up with our boy, and he seems to now understand that most of the crowd is there to hear his music, not see him hoist a jug of wine over his head like a pro.

Others from around the country apparently go to his shows with the same level of gruesome anticipation. Check out this review from The University of Washington-Seattle Daily of a recent show on this tour. The lead: “The question on most fans’ minds as they wait for a Bright Eyes show to begin usually has something to do with front man Conor Oberst’s level of inebriation.” Bravo, Keegan. I suspect Conor will be on his best behavior, this being The Orpheum, Omaha’s version of Carnegie Hall, a special, regal place to most people who grew up here (God forbid it should be torn down or turned into condos now that the World Herald got its precious Holland Center). Doing the math, I suspect the show will start at the strike of 8 p.m. with Willy Mason and his guitar, followed by Dave Dondero, then Spoon, with Bright Eyes coming on stage at 10:30. If you’re still hungry for music afterward, stumble down to Ted & Wally’s for Tomato A Day (helps keep the tornado away) featuring Dude Wyoming, Abigail Fishel, and Doug Wray with Morning at Sea and Nick Hugg — I have no idea what any of these bands sound like, but you’ll be downtown anyway…

Look for a review tomorrow, along with a preview of Saturday night’s show here tomorrow.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

Column 50 — Shelter on the Road
Shelter Belt epitomizes the term DIY

I never again want to hear woe-is-me laments from local rock bands complaining about how they’d just love to go on the road but they can’t figure out how to book a tour.

Not after talking to Jesse Otto and Anthony Knuppel, two of the 7-member indie folk-rock orchestra called Shelter Belt.

Whilst clicking through the daily gig calendar on SLAMOmaha.com this summer I kept coming across listings for Shelter Belt shows at such obscure and faraway venues as Beaner’s Central Coffeehouse in Duluth, The Brown Bean in Fredonia, NY; Soul Infusion Tea House and Bistro in Sylva, N.C., and Reptile Palace in Oshkosh, Wisconsin. Hardly the towns and venues I’m used to seeing on a touring band’s typical itinerary.

As of last Saturday night’s gig at Shea Riley’s, Shelter Belt has logged 58 shows this year throughout the North Central, Midwestern and Eastern United States. That follows a 70-gig year in 2004, all without the help of a record label or booking agent.

Booking is hard, frustrating work, Otto and Knuppel said over espressos in a packed Blue Line coffee shop Saturday. “You have to be persistent, and it can’t bother you to be ignored,” Otto said. “When a venue says they’ve never heard of you and they don’t have time to listen to your record, you just have to move on to the next one on the list.”

There’s a method to the band’s touring madness. Knuppel said it involves identifying colleges and universities within driving distance, then researching nearby venues. They bypass large cities and big clubs. “Unless you’re a really huge band, forget about it,” Knuppel said. “We’ve had our best luck at smaller cities with bigger schools. We try to avoid 21-and-over clubs for venues that are 18-and-over or all-ages. Coffee houses are the best. We’ll sell 15 to 20 CDs at those shows.”

But it’s not only juggling venues’ schedules, Otto and Knuppel also have to juggle the band members’ seven day-jobs. Otto, for example, works at UNO and is a history grad student, while Knuppel does accounting for a downtown parking company. “We’re lucky everyone has flexible jobs,” Knuppel said, adding that the band takes vacations days at the same time to facilitate longer tours. “We’ve only had to turn down four or five shows because of job schedules.”

With the gigs booked, the band piles into both a van and a car and hits the road to venues like The Boheme Bistro in Ames, Iowa — a favorite because of its generous owner, its roomy stage, and of course, its loving crowd. “The Iowa State Daily and the radio station have been good to us,” Otto said. “We’ve had large crowds there from day one.”

Otto and company received the ultimate compliment the first time they played The Main Street Pub in Brookings, South Dakota. They began playing “Sad Thing” from their last album, Rain Home, and members of the crowd already knew the words. “That’s the ultimate compliment,” Otto said.

He says touring is like being on vacation, but not a paid one, as the band usually struggles to break even or get a few dollars ahead. Still, without a record label, touring is the only effective way that Shelter Belt is going to get their music heard outside of the Omaha area. So far they’ve sold more than 1,100 copies of Rain Home — almost all of them sold at gigs.

The band is winding down its tour schedule for the year as they reenter their homemade Belt Cave Studios located in the basement of a Dundee home, to record the follow-up to Rain Home. Fans can expect the finished full-length sometime next spring. And then it’s back to the road.

“We want to do more shows than last year,” Otto said. “Every year it gets a little easier now that we’ve done the initial leg work. More people know who we are.”

But wouldn’t it be a dream come true if the new CD caught the attention of a record label and Shelter Belt got a booking agent? Otto and Knuppel aren’t holding their breaths. The band didn’t even bother shopping Rain Home to labels. They might send the new one out to a few this time, but if no one bites, that’s okay.

“We’ve always done things DIY and it’s worked for us,” Otto said. “We would love to make a living traveling and recording and not have to work day jobs. We’re told that it’s possible.

“We wouldn’t be doing it if it wasn’t possible,” Knuppel said.

It’s become something of a habit to tell you that the mere 400-word limit that The Reader places on feature stories wasn’t enough and that I had to commandeer my column to have enough room to get all the important meaning out of an interview. That wasn’t the case with Spoon’s Britt Daniel this time around (read it here). Britt clearly wasn’t in the mood for an interview. I got a sense that I caught him at a bad time, or that he’d just woken up. I can understand that. I don’t know how musicians, especially popular ones, stand being interviewed over and over and over. In the case of Conor Oberst, he simply doesn’t do interviews anymore, at least not with small publications (I should point out that I didn’t request an interview with Conor this time around. There wasn’t anything new to talk about. I gleaned his no-interviews policy from The Omaha World-Herald‘s precoverage of Friday’s show — Niz was forced to interview Conor’s publicist). Daniel could have refused as well, but he was willing to take 10 minutes to at least chat with me.

Interestingly, most of the time was spent with me updating him on the Saddle Creek’s Slowdown project, which he was “eager to see while in town.” I told him he’d be staring at an overgrown weed field with a railroad track running through it as the project hasn’t broken ground yet (and time is ticking away). The other stuff that didn’t make it into the story includes how Omaha has sort of slipped off Daniel’s radar screen. “A lot of people who made Omaha special have left,” he said. But he couldn’t really think of anyone else other than Conor, who now lives in New York. “Nansel’s still there,” Daniel said, referring to Creel label head Robb Nansel, “and some Saddle Creek people are still there. The Faint still are still there, but some of my best friends left.” The rest of the interview was somewhat forced. Britt talked about how digital downloads will never replace record stores and how he’s never really pursued top-40 status. He also had no idea what kind of venue The Orpheum is, figuring it was just a large hall. Not a stellar interview, but that can’t all be.

Anyway… Tonight is Tristeza with Bella Lea at O’Leaver’s. Tristeza has gone from being one of the hottest acts in the indie sphere back in 2000 (and here’s my 2000 interview with the band) to just another touring indie instrumental act. I remember them talking about breaking up way back then, but they never did (though I think some of the personnel did change). It should be a rather soothing show. $6, 9:30 p.m.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

Owen Cleasby of The Lepers tells me that he and drummer, Ken Brock, are recording a new album at Steve Micek’s home studio. Owen said this one will be more fleshed out instrumentally than the last Lepers CD, The Love from Above, which was released on Caulfield Records. Very unlikely that Caulfield will release this one, Owen said, as the guy behind the label, the legendary Bernie McGinn (ex-Sideshow), has moved to San Francisco. Someone else had told me that McGinn moved to S.F., then I mentioned that news to someone else, who said it wasn’t true, then Owen told me the same story at the Okkervil River show. I guess I could try e-mailing McGinn via the Caulfield website, which is still live. Anyway, Owen says their CD should be done in early 2006 and then they’ll shop it around to labels.

Tonight, Brother Ali returns to Sokol Underground with Swollen Members and Buck Bowen. Fellow Reader screed Jeremy Schnitker did an interview with Ali last week (read it here), where race again became the center of the discussion. Sounds like he’s getting tired of the same questions over and over. I’m lucky I got to interview him waaay back in June 2003 (read that one here), before he caught fire with the critics and was more open about those sorts of questions. That didn’t stop him from calling me out on stage about my article, however (you can read about that uncomfortable night in the June 13, 2003, Lazy-i blog entry). $10, 9 p.m.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

It’s shaping up to be a pretty busy week, with significant shows somewhere every night. Tonight it’s Chromatics at O’Leaver’s with Black Guys? Who are these Black Guys? None other than Darren Keen of The Show is the Rainbow with Jim Schroder (Mr. 1986), Javid Dabestani (Bright Calm Blue, Broken Spindles) and Brendan McGinn (Her Flyaway Manner). No idea what they sound like. Keen describes them as a “rock band.” Chromatics record on Troubleman Unlimited, so expect arty noise mixed with electronics. $5, 9:30.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

It’s my assessment that the whole Cursive storyline — opening for The Cure, The Hiatus, The Return — couldn’t have been more ingeniously calculated by our friends at Saddle Creek. Cut the band off whilst it prepares to break through whatever invisible force field the protects the different layers of public acceptance, leave the masses wondering if the band has breathed its last, leave them yearning for more. Then a little more than a year later, seemingly out of nowhere, pluck them from the ashes reborn as a lean, mean four-piece, casting aside the glitter and glow to reveal muscle and bone. The New Cursive is a Jeet Kune-Do version, stressing power in efficiency, building strength through simplicity. Applying this new philosophy to recordings and the road, their fans, who have wept in their dormancy, will have new heroes to celebrate. And all will once again be well in Cursive land.

I mentioned this theory to the label chief last night, how he couldn’t have marketed the band any better if he tried, and he just laughed. He didn’t laugh, however, when I told him that the next Cursive album will be King Kong-sized, as will the subsequent tour. Cursive is slowly evolving from being just another indie band with principles to folk heroes on par with Fugazi. I mentioned that to Matt Maginn last week, and he quickly denied it. “We try to walk the fine line, we try to make good decisions, but we don’t make decisions based on whether it follows a DIY or independent ethic or rule,” he said. “We follow our own ethic. I love Fugazi. We don’t take ourselves seriously enough to be in their league.”

Fair enough. But the hiatus did prove that Cursive isn’t in it for the cash (though the cash can’t be bad). Whether they want it or not, people are identifying with this band for than its music.

But I digress…

Cursive brought their A-game last night, dipping deep into the catalog for what was an inspired set. I was told by three or four people that it was a night-and-day difference from their Friday night show, when Kasher and the band seemed more stressed and disconnected with the audience. Halfway through the set, Kasher inasmuch admitted it, saying that the band was too anxious Friday night having tried to relearn so many different songs. There was no anxiety in the house last night as the band eagerly rifled through a huge set list that included what I assume was a number of new songs that sounded altogether different than their usual fare. The new music is more muscular, angular and less interested in providing hum-able melodies. The songs don’t seem angry as much as intense, and while there’s an inherent dissonance to the new stuff, there’s also something undeniably, well, funky about it, specifically in the rhythm section. Who knows how much of what I heard will ever make it to the studio. If it does, look out.

The only thing I can whine about was the all-Cindy-Lauper encore — “Time After Time” would have been enough of an ironic statement. “True Colors,” OK, cute. You can stop now. “She Bop,” however, pushed the envelope a little too far, and maybe that was the intention. I didn’t hear a lot of complaints when they left the stage for the last time. Nobody wanted to hear “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” Cursive-style.

Tonight it’s Local H doing what’s been billed as their “all request” tour. I have no idea what that’s all about. I do admit to liking their last studio release, Whatever Happened to P.J. Soles? Opening is Virgasound (formerly known as The Philharmonic) and that alone is worth the $12 ticket. Unfortunately I’ll be too busy tonight writing a feature on Spoon and a column on Shelter Belt to go. Goddamn deadlines.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

Sorry for lateness of submission but I have the day off and was busy raking. Yeah, yeah, yeah, you’ve been pulling your hair out wondering ‘When is that lazy bastard going to update his blog?’ Especially when you know that I went to Okkervil River last night at Sokol.

The biggest surprise of the evening was the turnout. Last time they came through maybe 60 showed up at O’Leaver’s to hear their set. Last night the number was around 200 — quite a jump. What’s the deal? Has their stuff been played as background music on an episode of The OC or something? Maybe people are just starting to catch on that Okkervil River is one of the best folk/rock/indie bands going these days. They certainly proved it last night, despite a number of setbacks.

But first, Lawrence’s The Minus Story opened (actually, Fizzle Like a Flood opened, too, but I missed their set. Sorry, Doug.). I’ve heard they’re all the rage down in Lawrence. I was told last night that a certain Omaha record label had looked long and hard at them a year or so ago, but missed out to Jagjaguwar. I can see why they’d be interested. To me, The Minus Story sounded like a slightly more indie version of Now It’s Overhead, probably because vocalist Jordan Geiger has the same nasal high-end delivery as Andy LeMaster. Their opening song was a bit of a dud, but they only got better as their set went on. I’m a bit reticent about saying more because I wasn’t really in the mood for their style of dreamy/indie/pseudo-psychedelic rock, or maybe I’m just getting tired of the drone. They’re probably better than I give them credit for (Hey, Jagjaguwar doesn’t sign slouches).

Then came Okkervil River. Frontman Will Robinson Sheff warned everyone before their set that it wouldn’t be typical. The band apparently just returned from a few weeks in Europe, where Sheff lost his voice. He got it back, but then drummer Travis Nelsen broke his hand a few days ago (I’m told he had it iced before the set). To make matters worse, Sheff broke a string on the very first song (an acoustic version of “Happy Hearts”) and proceeded to tell us while he was restringing how his ex-girlfriend, who he had been pining for, told him last night that she never wanted to talk to him again. “Awww!” cried the girls in the audience. Cute. He also said that Omaha was special to the band, recalling how their March 5, 2002, show at The Junction was the first gig they ever played outside of Austin, and what a crappy gig it was (Though I thought they performed well that night. Guess I’m the only guy in Omaha that misses The Junction).

Regardless, Sheff got it together, played his solo song, and then was joined by five other players, including guys on accordion, mandolin, keyboards, trumpet, the whole ball of wax. The drummer’s broken hand supposedly caused them to rewrite their set list and omit a few songs (not the least of which was “Black,” which someone kept yelling for, and which Sheff kept saying he couldn’t play because of the broken hand). I didn’t notice a drop-off in the quality of drumming, I certainly couldn’t tell the guy’s hand was broken. But maybe the set-list was a little more restrained than usual. There were a few more droning, atmospheric numbers than I remember from last spring, but there were still all my favorites, including “Red,” “Black Sheep Boy” “The Latest Toughs,” “Okkervil River Song” (the traditional set closer), and “Kansas City” (part of the two-song encore). Good stuff.

Tonight is the first of two nights of Cursive at Sokol Underground. As you know from reading Wednesday’s feature, it’s sold out and has been for a long time. Even the tickets on eBay are gone. Opening tonight’s show is Back When and The Stay Awake. Tomorrow night it’s Criteria and Race for Titles. It will be a madhouse, as all sold-out shows are at Sokol Underground. Bring your earplugs. If you don’t have a ticket, you might want to check out pop-rockers The Plus Ones with The Hooligans at O’Leaver’s. $5, 9:30 p.m.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

Two good shows tonight. The marquee act for me will be Okkervil River at Sokol Underground with Lawrence’s The Minus Story and Omaha’s own Fizzle Like a Flood. Okkervil is touring in support of a just-released addendum CD-EP from their last full length, called Black Sheep Boy Appendix. I assume these are the tracks that didn’t make it onto their amazing full length. Three of the seven tracks are keepers, though, the rest are dour or found-sound collages, but those three (titled “No Key, No Plan,” “Another Radio Song” and “Last Love Song for Now” are as good as anything they’ve done before. They travel large. When they played at O’Leaver’s last April (review here) there must have been six or seven of them, most were drunk or sounded drunk. Still, it was a good show. Okkervil’s label, Jagjaguwar is also releasing the new Minus Story CD. From the couple tracks I’ve heard online, they sound like a good fit. Who knows what configuration of Fizzle Like a Flood will show up. Last time it was just Doug on drums and vocals and Travis bearing an ax. $7, 9 p.m.

Meanwhile, at O’Leaver’s, straight-up indie rockers Sam Champion take the stage: My review of their new one on Razor & Tie is on the Reviews Matrix, but here it is for the lazy reader: “Starts off as country by way of Johnny Cash (without the ornaments) and shifts into grind rockers with the snarly Cash drawl. Meanwhile, track 3, is a stone-cold Pavement rip. So yeah, I guess you could say they’re all over the place. In the end, the Wowee Zowee-era Pavement wins out — which is an easy way of saying this is slacker indie rock. It’s not bad, but it’s been done before, and better.” Rating: No. Consider it melodic Pavement-lite. Most will be on hand to see Eagle*Seagull, which has become something of a breakthrough local act. They’re even better live. More on them later. $5, 9:30 p.m.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

First, an apology for screwing up the location of yesterday’s Cracker show — I said Sokol when it was in Lincoln at Knickerbocker’s. I figured it out after I got back to work and wasn’t able to fix it until I got home. Hope no one got misdirected by my miscue. Speaking of Lincoln, tonight is the real “final show” for The Street Urchins at Duffy’s. Brimstone Howl will also play. $5, 10 p.m., if you’re in the Capitol City you won’t want to miss it.

This week’s feature is an interview with Matt Maginn from Cursive (read it here), where Matt talks about the band coming out of its hiatus, the sold-out $2 Sokol Underground shows, the “fake name” tour, their return to Junior’s Motel this winter, their new CD and how they’ll keep it together once they return to the road. It will appear in The Reader as my weekly Lazy-i column because I needed more than 400 words (the typical word-count limit) to tell it. Even with twice the real estate I didn’t have room in the article for everything Matt and I talked about. Among the stuff that got left out: Has marriage gotten in the way of being in the band? Apparently not. Maginn said he and his wife have been together the entire time he’s been in the band. “Obviously I don’t like to be away from her, but the situation’s the same for other members of the band. If anything, I’ll talk myself into going on longer tours, figuring if we’re going to go out, we might as well hit all the cities. Clint (Schnase) is married now, too. No one wants to live on the road.”

Will the “back-to-basics” approach be heard on the new CD as well? No again. “We may be returning to the oldies in our style and mind, but not in our music. We’re going to approach each song differently,” he said. Asked about whether it will be a collection of songs or a concept album, Maginn hmmed and hawed and deferred to Kasher. He knew, he just wasn’t gonna tell me.

Finally, the $2 shows were originally going to be free, but logistics made it impossible to not charge something. “Originally, since it marks 10 years that the band existed, we wanted to do something for free,” he said. “But it was explained to us why that wouldn’t work. If it was free, people might take more and more tickets and we’d have no idea if they used them or not. Also, we wanted the shows presold.” If you’re heartbroken that you can’t get a ticket, don’t sweat it, Maginn said there will be other Omaha shows. “That’s a guarantee, and they’ll be sooner rather than later.”

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—