Tell me about being on Team Love. Did Conor have to sign off on the record before it was released?

We really wanted him more involved in the whole recording and production part of it. He didn’t get a chance to hear it until it was mostly finished. We sent him 12 songs that we recorded and started thinking about track order. That was a collaboration between Nate and Conor, and then we sat down as a band and discussed it. That was most of what he did. It would have liked him to have had a bigger role.

So how has it been being on Team love?

We couldn’t be happier. We have so much freedom to do what we want. We’ve been so lucky with him just starting a label. The press release will say that this is the second Tilly album on Conor Oberst’s label. It’s nice to be aligned with him. A lot of his bands really trust in his vision.

What was it like working with AJ Mogis in the studio?

He’s great. He’s good at micing stuff to make it sound really interesting and clean. He finds the exact sound you want. And he has a thing where he won’t tell you which take is best, but will do more takes if you’re willing. It was on our heads to decide if we needed another. It’s obviously has better sound quality than the debut because we did this one in a studio.

I heard you moved to LA, true?

I moved out in January but haven’t been there very much. I’ve been back a week before we left to tour Europe and play South by Southwest.

Why the move?

I have a couple friends there. I love the weather. LA’s got a bad rep. I wanted something … maybe just bigger and a little dirtier than Omaha. I love Omaha for sure. I’ve been here four and a half years. I’m from Atlanta. It’s funny to say this, but there’s so much stuff to walk to from my house — there’s a grocery store right across the street. I only drive on the freeway when people out of town come in and visit.

How do you get pumped up before shows?

It’s always so much fun just to perform. We feed off the audience energy. The five of us in a row on stage, it’s like a team vibe. It’s important to us that people have a good time at our shows.

One of the most enjoyable nights I’ve had at O’Leaver’s in a long time, could you ask for a more diverse bill? Isn’t this what all shows should be like? Probably. Maybe. Definitely.

First up was An Iris Pattern fronted by Omaha’s own man of mystery and intrigue Greg Loftis looking like the spitting image of Jeff Tweedy, surrounding himself with some of the better talent in the city, judging from what I heard. James McMann on bass is no slouch, whether you like GTO or not, you cannot deny that this guy has some amazing chops. I don’t know who the other guys were, but all were solid, especially the band’s lead guitarist, who clearly understands the right way to play an arena-style rock guitar solo. Iris Pattern is just that — an arena-rock band that would have felt right at home at the Civic Auditorium in the ’70s. The guy next to me compared them to Billy Thorpe, and in fact, Loftis’ voice has a similar timbre. Another guy was reminded of early Gram Parsons. I couldn’t put my finger on who they sounded like, but can tell you that live they’re much harder than what can be heard on the recordings posted at their myspace site. The sound mix was uneven and disappointing, mainly because these guys seem engineered for a larger stage (though the headliners, who have a similar trait, sounded perfect). Someone get them down to Sokol Underground.

Though it’s been almost a year since they played live, The Monroes have not lost an ounce of their rural-fied energy. Classic heartland tractor-punk at it’s finest. If you’ve never heard them before, their rural punk sound is driven mercilessly by Lincoln Dickison’s guitar, which sounds like a chainsaw cutting a Hot Rod Lincoln in half. Keeping Dickison from going completely unhinged is the rhythm section of drummer Jesse Render and bassist Mike Tulis. Render’s drums are rat-a-tat-tatty, understated and subtle. I tried to imagine what Render and these guys would sound like behind a big, throaty, hammering drum set and realized it would throw everything out of whack. Translated: leave it alone, it’s just right. Tulis’ role is just as important as it is understated. Listen closely and you realize he’s the guy driving the tractor. Then there’s frontman Gary Dean Davis, who looks exactly like he did more than a decade ago when he was fronting Frontier Trust, the band that The Monroes most resemble. Gary’s hog-calling, atonal yell — barking out lines about Impalas and the hook-and-ladder formation — speaks for the everyman in every Nebraskan whose ever navigated the state’s washboard-ladden dirt roads. Highlight of their set was a new yet-to-be-recorded tune that shows Render at his rat-a-tat-tattiest. If you missed them last night, The Monroes are playing a Speed! Nebraska Records showcase down at Sokol Underground June 30 with Ideal Cleaners and Diplomats of Solid Sound.

Finally, taking the stage in all their theatrical glory were Oklahoma City’s The Stock Market Crash. People who’d seen them before warned me that I should have worn sunglasses because these guys like to shoot flood lights into the crowd a la The Faint and a dozen other dance bands. Frontman Matthew Bacon looked like he just walked out of a late ’80s Duran Duran video with a get-up that included a Russian sailor’s shirt, jacket, Clockwork Orange bowler, tight slacks and eyeliner. The style didn’t stop with the costume, Bacon had all the moves you’d expect from any British pop band that you remember from the early days of MTV’s 120 Minutes (who remember ABC?). The whole thing would be a joke if the band wasn’t so damn good. They were as close to authentic as you’re going to find, emulating bands like Psychedelic Furs and Morrissey, though at the end of the day, Bacon reminded me of an energetic Jarvis Cocker from Pulp channeling Bowie and Julian Cope. Yes, there were flood lights, as well as stage smoke and strobes, lighting up Bacon as he darted into the crowd and leaned into frightened, confused patrons. Fun!

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Briefly, here’s what’s happening this weekend show-wise:

At the top of the order are The Monroes with Stockmarket Crash and An Iris Pattern at O’Leaver’s. This is a comeback of sorts for The Monroes, who haven’t played live in quite a while. $5, 9 p.m.

Also tonight, Two Gallants are doing a one-of-a-kind acoustic set at Mick’s in Benson. It may be the only time you’ll get to see the duo take this approach to their usually blazing sea-shanty ballads. That said, playing unplugged should be an easy transition for these folky guys. With Drakkar Sauna. $8, 9 p.m.

Saturday night at Sokol Underground boasts the return of The Cuterthans after a four-year absence. Did I say Cuterthans? I guess they’re actually going by the name Skull Fight!, which is less interesting than the original name. “The Cuterthans (err.. Skull Fight!, as the audience will find out that night) have got pieces of the Carsinogents, Viagrasound (Virgasound) , The Fonzies, and Roarbot all balled up into one,” said cuter than a skull fighter Jason Steady, who also promises that the band will be offering free root beer at the show. How can you beat that? Also on the bill are Straight Outta Junior High, Treaty of Paris and VKS, a band that Steady says is “a bunch of high school-aged kids playing ska. That’s right, SKA. Just when you thought it was long gone, here come the youngsters.” $7, 8 p.m.

Sunday night is a busy one, what with everyone having the next day off and all. Down at O’Leaver’s it’s The Third Men opening for Oakley Hall, a band that Conor Oberst name-checked in his interview in this week’s issue of The City Weekly, which should guarantee the place will be crawling with slackerly indie kids. $5, 9 p.m.

Meanwhile, downtown at Sokol Underground, Rhymesayers member DJ Abilities will be on the turntable and the mic. $10, 9 p.m.

And if you’re in Lincoln, you’ll want to check out Saddle Creek Records artist Ladyfinger with Them Vs. Them and the incomparable Virgasound at Duffy’s. $5, 9:30 p.m.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

Column 78: Don’t be a Tough Guy
What you don’t hear can hurt you

There are a few things that can make you feel like “an old guy” at a rock show. I won’t get into the gloomy specifics involving people looking young enough to be your children or bartenders not even looking for the fluorescent wrist-band — everyone knows you’re old enough to drink, pops.

Earplugs are another one. I’ve been wearing them to rock shows starting back in ’93 when I road-tripped with Lincoln band Mercy Rule to a show at Harry Mary’s in Des Moines. Before their set, bassist/frontwoman Heidi Ore strolled through the crowd of angry punks with a prescription vial in hand.

She wasn’t passing out drugs, she was handing out earplugs. She ambled up to one big guy with his arms crossed and made an offering. He just nodded his head. He didn’t need them. The pixie-ish, bespeckled, five-foot-nothing dynamo responded flatly, “Don’t be a tough guy, just take them.” He did. So did I. And she was right, we needed them. Few bands play as loudly as Mercy Rule did, thanks to Jon Taylor’s roaring guitar.

That was the first time I wore earplugs at a show. I’ve been wearing them ever since — little yellow pieces of foam tied together by a handy blue cord, the kind railroad workers wear in the field and in the shops. I’ve had a case of them in my cupboard all these years and always keep extra pairs in my car in case I forget to take them with me. Dr. Britt Thedinger, an otologist at Ear Specialists of Omaha, says the practice may well have saved my hearing.

I know, I know, you’ve read a gazillion stories about the dangers of loud rock music. I don’t blame you if you stop reading. And to be honest, I didn’t seek out Thedinger to do a story on earplugs. It was my iPod that motivated me, along with the dozens or recent stories about how prolonged listening to iPods could cause hearing damage. Could I have wasted all those years wearing earplugs only to be butchering my hearing with my iPod while cycling the Keystone Trail?

I dropped by Thedinger’s midtown clinic last Saturday morning. What I heard surprised me. I expected gloom and doom. In fact, things aren’t that bad.

Turns out the iPod scare is mostly hype. “I don’t think there’s a huge iPod crisis of people losing their hearing right and left,” he said. Still, too much of anything can’t be a good thing. Thedinger said a sign that you’re listening to your iPod too loudly is if the person next to you can clearly make out what you’re listening to. That’s pretty freaking loud. But what about my trusty Etymotic in-ear isolator earphones? “If they’re turned up so loud that they hurt your ears, you’re damaging your hearing,” he said.

Pretty simple advice. Okay, so while I’m here, what about those standard yellow, foam earplugs that cost about 50 cents at the Quik Pick? Are they doing the trick? Thedinger said they block about 29 dBs, more than adequate to protect me at a typical rock show, which he says can get as loud as 115 dBs. Wadded up toilet paper, by the way, blocks only 3 to 5 dBs — in other words, it doesn’t work.

But even if I didn’t wear earplugs at every show, Thedinger said I’d probably be okay. Hearing damage occurs from prolonged high-decibel noise exposure. “At that level, it has to be continuous,” Thedinger said. “The quiet few minutes between songs is usually enough to recover.”

It also depends on the room’s acoustics and where you stand, like right in front of speakers that can blow out up to 125 dBs. Even a short exposure at that level can erode your ability to hear frequencies between 2,000 to 8,000 hz — the range where human speech makes lispy syllables, like “sh,” “th,” p’s, and f’s.

Which brings us to tinnitus — the ringing in your ears that everyone’s experienced after a night at The Qwest Center. Turns out that ringing is always there. We just don’t notice it until our hearing has been damaged — then it’s all we hear.

“When I was doing my residency in a Boston emergency room, we’d have patients come in after a concert at The Garden saying, ‘My ears are ringing and it’s driving me nuts.’ The membranes had swollen in their ears resulting in decreased hearing capability, so they could hear the tinnitus. After a few days the swelling went down, their hearing improved and the tinnitus went away.”

Unless, of course, they sheered off the nerves, permanently damaging their hearing.

You might recover just fine after a few loud concerts without earplugs, but night after night of unprotected hearing will sneak up on you. “It’s an insidious process,” Thedinger said. “People don’t realize the damage they’ve done until it’s too late. And once you’ve lost it, it’s gone.”

It still amazes me every time I look around at rock shows and notice that I’m the only one wearing earplugs. The excuse that they “ruin the experience” is lame. They allow me to actually focus more on the bands and worry less about damage — even if they may make me look like an old wuss in the eyes of guys too tough to wear them.

“You can be as tough as you want,” the good doctor said, “but it’s a real pain in the ass being hearing impaired.”

Catching up on some assorted old news from the web on a sleepy Wednesday…

— Looks like Crooked Fingers frontman Eric Bachmann will have his next solo album, To the Races, released on Saddle Creek Records Aug 22, according to this item at aversion.com. This is a great add to the Creek roster — i.e., I dig Bachmann’s Crooked Fingers records.

— Also, on Aug. 22, Cursive will release their next full-length, Happy Hollow. Punknews.org has the track list here, while, Cursive’s summer tour dates just went up on CMJ here, including an Aug. 4 Lollapalooza gig in Grant Park, Chicago.

— My annual predictions article just seems to get more and more on target. Remember I said that this was the year Bright Eyes a.k.a. Conor Oberst would appear on Saturday Night Live? Well, apparently it happened last Saturday night… sort of. According to tvsquad.com (because who else stays home and watches SNL these days?), host Kevin Spacey did a skit toward the end of the program where he dressed up as Neil Young promoting his new album I Do Not Agree With Many Of This Administration’s Policies. Among those helping out with the performance, Adam Samberg (famous for the “Lazy Sunday” vid) dressed up as and introduced as Conor Oberst. If anyone sees this online somewhere, pass on the link, I’d love to see it.

— Personal critic/writing guru Robert Christgau has a new Consumer Guide entry at the Village Voice (here) He loves the new one by The Streets and gives the new Springsteen album the “dud of the month” award.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

I turn to the soundguy three or four minutes into The Terminals set at O’Leaver’s last night and tell him I can’t hear the guitar at all. It’s somewhat overpowered, he replies, by the keyboards, which have to pull double-duty as both keyboards and bass. It’s the first time I’ve heard The Terminals since John Ziegler left the band a year or so ago. As a trio, they’ve lived on with Dave Goldberg playing the role of the band’s energizer bunny, while Liz and Brooks Hitt provide the necessary punk moxy. While those two are married in real life, it’s Dave and Liz who are the Fred and Ethel of the combo, playing off each other like bickering teen parents in a kitschy ’50s B-movie. Make that ’50s horror B-movie, as that also sums up their sound, which has evolved from a trash ’60s garage band a la Them and Pretty Things a year ago to something more closely resembling The Cramps, propelled early in the set by Goldberg’s carnival-ride organ, the same one you remember from his Carsinogents days. Goldberg has been on the leading tip of the area’s psychobilly revival sound since his days in Full Blown, and if anything, that revival is picking up steam, judging by the popularity of this band and Brimstone Howl, who played after them.

Goldberg’s organ pulled back and the guitars came forward as the set wore on, and garage punk ensued — less retro, more angry. I like Liz Hitt’s guitar solos almost as much as I like her girl-next-door-on-the-verge-of-a-homicide vocals. She didn’t look like she was having fun until she switched to keyboards (and once, to drums), her face turning heat-seeker red while pounding on that organ, while cross stage Goldberg was making his guitar bark. There was one song (I don’t know its name) where the two trade lines back and forth and it was the best moment of the evening.

Brimstone was up next, but I had to head home (some of us have to work at the crack of dawn). Opening last night was a trio called The Shanks playing quick, punchy borderline hardcore songs. Lots of yelling. A couple “Oy’s” here and there. Remarkably sloppy. Was this their first gig, I asked the promoter. Maybe, probably, he said. You never know where these things will go. They could wind up being the next Nirvana. “Now you can say you saw The Shanks first show,” I said to the guy across the table. “Yeah,” he said, “and maybe their last.”

* * *

Tonight is a mammoth show down at Sokol Underground — Minus the Bear, Criteria, Russian Circles and The Lovekill. Minus the Bear is touring in support of Menos el Oso, the best record of their storied career. Criteria plays a home gig after months of touring the U.S. Welcome them back. Russian Circles’ 6-song Flameshovel debut clocks in at over 43 minutes — long, droning songs that build, you know the routine. Cleveland’s The Lovekill play jangular punk. 9 p.m., $12.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

Time only for some brief comments about last night’s packed show at O’Leaver’s. And it was packed. I was pushed to a far-off table and could barely see what was going on on stage. That said, I could hear just fine, and the highlight of the evening was opening band Now, Archimedes! Fronted by Bob Thornton, who also fronts Past Punchy, N,A! is a trio that includes former members of Fischer, Solid Jackson and Raymond Nothing. Their style is pure mid-’90s buzzsaw punk that reminded me of Thornton’s old band Culture Fire. Raw, frenzied, with great-big-ol’ riffs and lots of yelling, it’s something that’s been missing from the scene for too long. As the guy who was standing next to me put it, they sounded like every band that ever played at The Cog Factory. Past Punchy and The Present sounded like the lighter, more rural side of Omaha’s mid-’90s scene — sort of a Neil Young version of Frontier Trust. The capacity crowd ate it up, and I dug it to, but I would have liked to have heard more Archimedes…

Another solid night of punk at O’Leaver’s tonight with The Terminals, Brimstone Howl and Rat Traps. $5, 9 p.m. Be there.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

Glancing at the calendar, not a good time to be sick as a dog (though my cold appears to be subsiding) . Strange weekend of shows. Let’s take a look:

Tonight, maybe the strangest gig of all: Cloud Cult at O’Leaver’s. It’s the Minneapolis band’s so-called “Eco-Friendly” Tour. These six hippies travel around in a solar-powered van playing indie rock that’s been compared to Modest Mouse. Instrumentation includes cello, drums, bass, random electronics, keyboard and guitar. With them on stage (according to their one-sheet) will be live painters and back-screen video projection (better start tearing a hole in the back of the stage, Sean). How all this stuff will fit inside O’Leaver’s, no one can say. Maybe the painters can do their thing down in the basement? I’ve been told by someone at the bar that they’ve been informed that “a busload of people will be arriving to attend the show.” This has all the makings of a classic episode of my new hit half-hour sitcom about the Omaha scene that I should be writing for HBO. Opening is The Amateurs. $5, 9:30 p.m.

Your best bet may be to head to Mike’s in CB and see Members of the Press with Bullets for Baby and LouderThanLove, all for only $3. MotP is Randy Cotton’s band, and is the last bastion of angst/noise/punk left over from the old Ritual Device days now that Saklar is playing pretty guitar solos and Moss is missing in action somewhere in a cloud of San Francisco stoner rock. 162 W. Broadway.

Tomorrow (Saturday): Bloodcow and Life After Laserdisque at O’Leaver’s — talk about a strange combination, but LAL prides itself on playing with any style of music (remember that hip-hop show just a few weeks ago?). $5, 9 p.m.

And lest we forget, The Third Men and Pendrakes are playing at the The 49’r Saturday night as well.

That brings us to Sunday, and the return of Past Punchy and the Presents at O’Leaver’s along with Le Beat and possibly a surprise third band. Mr. Thornton ain’t saying exactly what he has up his sleeve, but it could get interesting. This will be the last time that Omahans will be hearing from Past Punchy’s Alex McManus for awhile as he heads out of town on travels that I’m told includes some touring with one of his many former bands. $5, 9 p.m.

And as extra credit, I want to give an early shout-out to a show next Monday at O’Leaver’s (jeeze, you’d think I work there or something). The Omaha/Lincoln band The Terminals featuring the legendary Dave Goldberg takes the stage along with The Rat Traps. This show could make me painfully late for work on Tuesday.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

Column 77 — The Last Double Standard
Are women vocalists judged differently then men?

I credit Omaha’s hardest working bassist and walking rock music encyclopedia Mike Tulis (The Monroes, Simon Joyner and the Wind-up Birds, The Third Men) for this installment’s theme. It was his wisdom that inspired it.

Here’s what happened: We were standing side-by-side in the back of O’Leaver’s listening to a rock band — Tulis in one of his stylish hats drinking an old-school tallboy. Classic.

On came the next band, which happened to feature a female vocalist. About halfway through the first verse, I noticed a slight shift in her voice. In the height of passion, she pushed it a bit too far in one direction, causing it to careen slightly off key. I turned to Tulis and yelled (because people don’t talk at rock shows — they scream at each other) “What do you think of her voice?”

Tulis just looked at me with his flat, knowing Tulis stare — dead eyes behind his glasses. “I’m not going there,” he yelled. “It’s one of the last remaining double-standards in rock — if a guy sings off-key, everyone thinks he rocks, but if a woman’s voice is less than perfect, she sucks.”

And like rays of light breaking through afternoon clouds, Tulis’ words opened my mind. Think of all the lousy male singers you’ve seen on stage — cocky, lazy, strutting around with their swooped haircuts and ironic retro clothing — whose voices carelessly fell off pitch, twisting back and forth like a drunken businessman headed back to work after a three-martini lunch. You cringe with every off-kilter note, but ask the crowd what they thought after the set and you’ll hear things like “Genius!” or “Man, he rocked!“

But if it’s a woman, and her voice wavers oh-so-slightly, the result is rolled eyeballs. “Man, did you hear that? Where’d she learn to sing?” You’ve done it. Admit it.

So are women performers aware of this double-standard? I asked around, starting with Sarah Benck, perhaps our scene’s most well-known female vocalist. Benck, whose forte is cranking out soulful, strutting Bonnie Raitt-style R&B, has a confident voice that never wavers. Though she says she’s never had to deal with any “discrimination,” she knows she’s being judged on stage. “Springsteen, Jagger, those guys are on the top in the industry. They don’t have fantastic voices. It’s all about rocking out,” Benck said. “I can only think of one female vocalist, Patti Smith, whose voice is an acquired taste. From the get go, it wasn’t about what she looked like and sounded like, it was always about what she had to say. Her imperfection was part of her expression.”

But Patti was the only example that Benck could come up with of a successful woman vocalist with less than stellar chops. The only one that I could think of was Chrissie Hynde of The Pretenders. Her voice — not pretty, and come to think of it, neither is she. The vocal double-standard is a social model, Benck said, that carries over from how people judge appearance. Erica Hanton, who sings in both Kite Pilot and The Protoculture, said the double-standard comes from an industry that markets women differently than men.

“You know, how, supposedly, ‘ugly’ men are considered distinctive or unique,” Hanton said. “You don’t see many women who are outside the ‘standard beauty’ who get that kind of treatment. So if a woman’s voice is not a standard, nice-on-the-ears pretty, familiar-sounding voice, it’s not acceptable. Imperfection in a guy’s vocals gives it character. Imperfection in a female’s vocals makes people uncomfortable.”

Society, Hanton added, is all about correcting female imperfections.

But what about the woman who was singing the night of Tulis’ epiphany? The vocalist was Megan Morgan of Landing on the Moon, a local indie rock band that throws a wrench into their sound with salty, John Steinman-esque rock ballads. Morgan knows a thing or two about singing — she’s the choral director at Bryan Middle School. She says if she’s off-key during her set it’s because she’s lost in the moment. It’s never intentional. That’s not the case with a lot of stylish male vocalists she’s heard warble over the years.

“I don’t like it when guys try to sing like that,” she said about their forced nonchalant approach. “Some guys sound that way on purpose. It’s supposed to be artistic. They’re supposed to be filled with so much emotion and angst. It sounds fake to me.”

It’s always been forgivable for guys to sing sloppy, Morgan said. Not so for women. “Women aren’t supposed to have that I-don’t-care attitude,” she said. “When a woman is on stage, people pay attention. I always try to make it sound as pleasing as possible. But when you’re into it, you become part of the music. Where it goes is where it takes you. Hopefully the audience is coming along with you.”

What’s my point? Don’t judge the voice; listen to what the voice is trying to convey in all its blemished honesty. It took Tulis to shake me from my daze and really listen to what Megan was singing instead of mentally comparing her to whatever ignorant stereotype society has dictated that a woman vocalist should be. Once I was really paying attention, it changed everything — about her band, about her performance. I heard a woman belting it out on stage, holding nothing back, lost in her music and lyrics. And just like that, I got lost, too.

Sorry for the lack of update yesterday. Things are just getting back to normal with Lazy-i’s server. The archived Blogger entries are now available again. And just as the weather finally becomes spring-like, I come down with a chest cold. Life sucks!

Anyway, according to the One Percent Productions website, the line-up for the June 17 Memorial Park Bright Eyes Concert appears to be in place. The openers are Welshman Gruff Rhys of Super Furry Animals — apparently a friend of Oberst’s — and Neva Dinova, who recently signed to Saddle Creek Records. This came as something of a surprise as some of the organizers had said they didn’t want the concert to be a “Saddle Creek showcase.” A number of non-Creek Omaha bands had been rumored to be in contention for the opening slots. In the end, the decision was likely Oberst’s and Oberst’s alone. Certainly Mayor Mike Fahey isn’t a fan of Rhys’ 2005 solo debut Yr Atal Genhedlaeth. In fact, no one around here has even heard it before, except Oberst. Regardless, just imagine the crowd singing along to “Rhagluniaeth Ysgafn” or “Y Gwybodusion” or the infectious “Chwarae’n Troi’n Chwerw.” Does it get any better than that?

Then there’s Neva Dinova, a band that to this day would be hard-pressed to sell out Sokol Underground. Ah, but they’re on Creek now, certainly that’ll make the difference to the thousands of Omahans who are on the fence deciding whether or not they should go to the free show. Fact is — and Oberst and the organizers know this — it never mattered who opened the concert since anyone who shows up will be there to see Bright Eyes anyway. If you’re Oberst and Creek, why not put your most recent signing on the bill? And though Rhys debut was released on a subsidiary of Rough Trade, I wouldn’t be surprised if his next one comes out on Oberst’s Team Love label. Industrious? You bet.

Now go back and read my Acid Test in the Park column and think about how many people will show up for the concert. Better yet, ask yourself how many Omahans will be there, because certainly the biggest draw now will come from rabid Bright Eyes fans from around the country who will be making a pilgrimage to see their beloved savior at his only non-festival appearance this year in the United States. It’s only one month away…

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—