Online here now, a new interview with Ester Drang’s James McAlister (read it here). James talks about the band’s lush, orchestrated sound, being on Jade Tree, the band’s near-fatal van accident, and the live show they’re bringing to Sokol Underground this Friday night. There was little from the interview left out of the story. Interestingly, Ester Drang is constantly touted for being from Oklahoma, even by the band itself — they still call themselves a Tulsa band — when in fact they’ve lived in Seattle for a while now. McAlister said there’s probably more of a San Francisco influence to their new album than Tulsa considering most of it was recorded there at Tiny Telephone studios. The Oklahoma thing, he said, is a reporter’s hook… sound familiar? I will be surprised if the band can pull off their lush sound live as well as McAlister says they will.

The same can be said for the 7-piece Anathallo, which plays tonight at O’Leaver’s. I’m listening to Floating World, their latest on Nettwerk, as I type this — it’s big, with tons of keyboards and horns, very theatrical, reminds me a bit of Sufjan Stevens what with its hand claps, foot stomps and multiple harmonies. This could be a very cool show. Get there early. The beautiful acoustic splendor of Lincoln’s Tie These Hands (here’s their myspace) is opening. $5, 9:30 p.m.

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Sorry for the lack of an update yesterday, I was busy writing an interview with Ester Drang, that’ll be online tomorrow, and a column on The Protoculture, that’ll be online Thursday. On top of that, I also got a nasty head cold. And on top of that, I have jury duty this week. What other disasters can befall me? I probably wouldn’t have written an update yesterday anyway since I didn’t have anything to write about. With The Crud slowly creeping over me, I didn’t go to any shows last weekend. I hope to god this pestilence has passed by later this week, when we’ll all be swallowed up in a tidal wave of shows. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment with a judge… I sure hope they let me listen to my iPod in there…

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The hand-scribbled message on the paper lying next to the cash register said it all: SOLD OUT. As in the room was at capacity. As in as soon as I said my hellos and turned the counter I was met with a wall of humanity. I didn’t realize how popular these bands were. I guess a lot of people watch The O.C. Let me start by throwing some roses before I pick up a turd. Rogue Wave was impressive, much better than when I saw them back in January of ’05, back when they were just another one of those bands riding the retro tip along with The Shins and New Pornographers and the various Elephant Six projects. They don’t sound anything like that anymore (I confess to not having heard their most recent album). They seemed to have evolved into Death Cab for Cutie, but with denser, more haunting (and more interesting) arrangements, not at all what I was expecting.

And maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t been down to Sokol in a long time — my ears seemingly having adjusted to the meager PA at O’Leaver’s — but the sound last night was just plain terrific, as good as I’ve ever heard in that smokey basement. Give credit to the sound guy, but give credit to the bands whose performances were clearly were honed and ready to make the most out of what they had (Christ, the drums from both bands were thunderous). Between sets the roadies set up large parabolic mirrors on stage — five of them — just like the ones used in grocery stores and convenient marts to keep an eye on shoplifters. The huge round mirrors mounted on stands were pointed at the crowd and made for an interesting visual (What is it about mirrors that make a room look bigger?). And so, with the stage set and after a prolonged (20 minutes?) break between bands, on came Nada Surf, and what can I say? They sounded good, I guess, but ultimately, well, kind of boring. I like The Weight Is a Gift, their new album, but live, for whatever reason (maybe I just wasn’t in the mood; maybe it lacked the record’s earnest dynamics), it felt flat. All’s I could think of was how much they reminded me of those bands I remembered from the ’90s — bands like Goo Goo Dolls and Soul Asylum and Trip Shakespeare and Matchbox Twenty and maybe, most of all, Gin Blossoms. Don’t get me wrong, they were doing what they do as well as they could (though the guitar parts seemed empty, evidence of the overdubs they must have used on their albums to compensate), I just got the feeling I’d heard it before, probably on the radio circa 1995, or on a television commercial circa now.

Moving on…

The weekend’s looking a might-bit thin. Tonight, O’Leaver’s has folk-rock outfit Goodbye Sunday and The Pendrakes. $5, 9:30 p.m. (Why not?). And that’s…it. Nothing stands out for Saturday or Sunday. And maybe that’s okay, because next week there are multiple worthy shows every night. Get some sleep, save your money. You’ll need it.

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Plead as they may, Voxtrot couldn’t get them to come on up and dance last night at O’Leaver’s. Had nothing to do with the music, which was certainly made for dancing — poppy and loose, their arrangements were deceptively simple for a five-piece. If you closed your eyes you’d think you were listening to a trio, but there was a second guitarist tucked in the back and a guy that played keyboards here and there. Occasionally bands define themselves by the cover songs they play, or how they play them. Last night Voxtrot covered Talking Heads’ “Heaven,” a laid-back, shimmering, hangover track that throbs with the same hazy angst felt while driving home alone after a late-night party, one of my favorite Heads’ tracks. Voxtrot reinvented it as a peppy back-beat pogo song, kicky and fun-loving house-dance fare. Lite. A perfect analogy for all their music — hopeful love songs with snappy-patter percussion and shuffle rhythm guitar. Lots of smiles. Fun indie pop that means no harm. Simple. Nothing wrong with that.

Kite Pilot opened sounding as good as ever, though I noticed less trumpet during last night’s set. Trumpeter/keyboardist Todd Hanton said that was by design. Fact is, he can’t play keyboards and trumpet at the same time. Regardless, he came through with the brass on the back-half of the set, and the band finished with a new song that pop-pop-popped as well as anything from their records. A new guitar player even joined them on a couple songs. No idea if he’s a permanent addition or not. If you’re kicking yourself for missing them last night, don’t worry. They’re playing at O’Leaver’s again March 19 with The Protoculture (yes, that Protoculture). More on that show in the coming weeks.

Tonight: Nada Surf at Sokol Underground. This should be a good one. NS drummer Ira Elliot said expect to hear most of The Weight Is a Gift as well as songs from their first two albums. “It’s a pretty straight-up rock show,” he said. “It’s been running an hour and a half to two hours long. We cover lots of ground.” Two hours? That’s arena rock-show length. A lot of people will be there just to see their tour mates, Rogue Wave. Other opener Inara George (daughter of Little Feat’s Lowell George) sounds exactly like Suzanne Vega (who I adore). It’s gonna be a long night. $12, 9 p.m.

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Column 66: Being Alone Together
The art of flying solo.

I was trying to put my finger on why I don’t like going to shows at The 49’r and finally figured it out last weekend.

I swung by at around 11 p.m. Saturday night to catch Past Punchy and the Present — the band I wrote about here last week — but they started early and I was too late and I only caught the last couple songs of their set (which I dug, by the way. Seek out this band whenever it pops its head out of its rabbit hole). A few minutes after they finished their set, I turned around and left. Total time at the Niner (after paying $5 cover and $5 for beer (with tip)) — 15 minutes. No, there’s nothing wrong with The Niner per se — in fact, I’m quite fond of the bar. The staff is first-rate, their PA has never sounded better, the vibe is laidback and fun. No, it’s something else, something ridiculous.

Look, I knew when I started listening to indie music 20 years ago that going to shows was going to be a problem. The genre is underground by its very nature. Friends who I grew up with listening to Zeppelin and Floyd aren’t interested in seeing bands they’ve never heard on the radio. And though my girlfriend likes indie music (almost) as much as I do, she’s physically incapable of staying awake past 11 o’clock (especially on school nights), effectively taking her out of the equation since most indie rock shows don’t start until 10. Add it all together and it meant that I had to get used to going to shows alone. It wasn’t easy.

There are three activities (not including those defined in the bible as “sins”) that just seem strange doing by yourself: Attending movies, eating at fine restaurants, and going to rock shows. Call it the “Loser Syndrome,” most people have deep-seated insecurities about being seen at social events without companionship. No one wants to be thought of as being friendless. But chances are, if you love indie music, indie films or adventurous dining, you’re gonna have to get over it or suffer a future of cheesy cover bands, knife-kill horror flicks and flavorless chain-restaurant dining.

Let’s start with the movies. You want to see “Transamerica” or “The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada” or Film Streams’ indie movie of the week at The Joslyn. Your friends want to see “Date Movie” or “Saw VII” or whatever piece of shit Julia Roberts is starring in this week. It’s a dilemma; because you’re never going to talk them into seeing “your movie.” You either go alone or wait for it to come out on NetFlix. You’re better off just showing up at the theater about five minutes after the start time and taking a seat in the back. If you’ve never gone to the movies by yourself, it’s pretty weird the first time. But once the film starts, you quickly realize that it doesn’t matter if you’re with someone or not — you’re inside the film’s world now. And when the lights come up afterward, you’ll wonder why you ever cared about going alone in the first place.

Movies are easy. Dining alone, well, that’s another story. The Food Channel is creating a culture of “foodies” who want something more than the usual prefabricated pound o’ flesh served at the neighborhood Chili’s or Appleby’s or The Outback (where, for whatever reason, everything must be smothered in cheese). Good luck, however, getting your crew to eat at, say, an Indian restaurant or — god forbid — Thai. Everyone remembers the “Table for One” scene from Steve Martin’s “The Lonely Guy” where, once seated alone, the restaurant falls silent and a spotlight blares on Martin as a team of waiters clears the other three settings off the four-topper. His solution: Pretend to be a food critic on assignment. My solution: Forget about dinner and go to your restaurant-of-choice at lunchtime, when you’ll be surrounded by a sea of one-toppers. An added bonus: Entrées will cost about a third less.

OK, so what about rock shows.

Is there a comfortable way to go see a band by yourself without feeling like a dork? The task is daunting, but it can be done. Sokol Underground is so dark that once you get in and get your beer no one will see you. Most people at O’Leaver’s are so drunk that they can’t see anything at all. And just like at the movies, no one notices anything after the band starts. There’s really nothing to be afraid of.

It’s between sets that can be weird. At Sokol you can hang out in the back; at O’Leaver’s, just turn your attention to whatever game’s on the television sets. But the Niner, well, there’s simply no place to hide. Just like the guy at the party who doesn’t know anyone, no matter what you do you’re gonna feel like a freak as you stand in everyone’s way waiting for the next band to start.

That leaves you with two options: You can do what I did and just turn around and leave like a wuss, or you can just stand there and wait uncomfortably until the next band starts.

Actually, there’s a third choice. You could — god forbid — actually talk to someone — preferably someone else who looks as uncomfortable as you. Suddenly, you know someone else at the show. And then another, and another. And before you know it, you’re a full-fledged scenester!

On second thought, maybe you should just go home.

By contrast, the six-piece Voxtrot was a tight, slightly retro pop-rock explosion. The guy next to me said they sounded like a straight-up Elephant 6 band. I can see that. They reminded me more of fellow Austin band Spoon, what with their handclaps and keyboard, though you could argue that Voxtrot’s music is even poppier. The key to their success is the rhythm section — a ridiculously tight drummer who cracked the whip as well as anyone I’ve heard at O’Leaver’s (and that includes the guy from The Silos). The set was slow out of the gate, with flaccid, overcomplicated songs, but as the night wore on, their music got simpler, and better, creating a tight core between the vocalist, keyboards and rhythm section (by the way, the bassist played a bass that looked exactly like the one Paul McCartney played and everyone seemed to notice — he also had McCartney’s hair circa 1964). Before long, there were about a half-dozen hipsters dancing in front of the band (sizable, when you consider only about 40 were there to begin with). By the end of the night, Voxtrot won over the tiny crowd, and I can see why they’ve been selling out shows on this tour.