It’s impossible to not be entertained by Greg Dulli and his band, the Twilight Singers. He is the consummate entertainer. Like the last time he was here back in ’03, Dulli came on stage dressed all in black, along with the rest of his band. He looked like a cocky middle-aged John Belushi, guitar over his shoulder, cigarette in hand (In fact, the entire band smoked throughout the set, making Sokol Underground smell like the old days that were only a few weeks ago). But despite having the same swagger, Dulli seemed a little off last night. Maybe it’s the fact that Omaha is one of only two cities that didn’t sell out on this tour (drawing only around 200 last night — what happened, people?). Or maybe Dulli is just getting older. If he was on fire three years ago, last night he was only smoldering. His voice had that same Afghan Whigs snarl, but lacked that little bit of oomph needed to hit the high notes.

He opened with “Teenage Wristband” off the first Twilight Singers full-length, Blackberry Belle, a collection which Dulli drew heavily from last night, and with good reason. While his new one, Powder Burns, has its moments, Dulli could make a living just playing the tracks off Blackberry, which has aged into a modern-day classic. After four or five songs, I began to wonder if Mark Lanegan was still on the tour. Then out of nowhere he appeared, entering from back stage looking like a cross between a straight-haired, goateed Will Ferrell and Frankenstein, striking a pose with one hand on the microphone, the other firmly grasping the mic stand, eyes clamped closed, barely moving. They tore right into their cover of Massive Attack’s “Live With Me” and I couldn’t take my eyes off Lanegan, who looked like some sort of ghost-zombie-statue, chewing a piece of gum between numbers. After three songs, he exited the stage and didn’t reemerge until the encore, when he came back for two more.

Lanegan may have been a highlight, but really, this was Dulli’s show, and as the set wore on, he only got better. Unlike the last time, Dulli kept the stage patter to a minimum, telling the crowd to forget it was Monday night. “It’s Saturday night at Sokol Underground,” he said, lifting a cup of something in a toast (where was that bottle of Maker’s Mark he had three years ago?). Like any good showman, he figured out a way to work a Husker reference into his between-song patter. As he went around the stage introducing the band, he introduced himself with, “I’m Lawrence Phillips… and I’m gonna rape you!” Laughter ensued (by me and Dulli, anyway). Another memorable comment came when he introduced “Martin Eden,” one of the more frightening drug songs you’ll ever hear. “The last time I was here three years ago, I introduced this song talking about Elliott Smith,” he said. “After that show, I bought some cocaine from a girl named Kristen. Kristen’s not here anymore. Let’s sing this one for her.”

The set lasted over an hour, and much to chagrin of a few fans, didn’t include any Afghan Whigs songs. After the last song of the encore, Dulli lifted up his cup of whatever to salute the crowd, and said in a cautionary tone while looking at his drink, “Be careful.” He then stepped off stage and walked directly out of Sokol with a girl on his arm, presumably headed to Council Bluffs… I hung out until well past 1 but never saw Lanegan leave. The show may not have been as good as ’03, but it was still one of the better shows of ’06.

Sokol is ground-zero tonight for shows both upstairs and underground. The auditorium is reserved for Guster, which starts at 8 p.m. with a rare opening set by Trippin Balls, a surprise act that you may recognize if you can get past their costumes. I promised new Guster guy Joe Pisapia that I wouldn’t say anymore. You’ll have to find out who they are for yourselves. Tickets are still available for $20.50.

Meanwhile downstairs, it’s the return of Now It’s Overhead. On their records, NIO is a floating, dreamy, mid-tempo stroll through the trees. All that changes when they step out of the studio and onto the stage. With their atmospheric music stripped down and raw, Andy LeMaster and Co. turn into a rock band, roaring and angry and utterly convincing. Opening band Summerbirds in the Cellar combines dance rhythms with Cure-style drone guitars and intricate, repeated riffs that pull songs out with extended, jammy endings that you don’t want to stop. Also on the ticket is Coyote Bones. $8, 9 p.m.

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Oct. 30 — The Twilight Singers featuring Greg Dulli and Mark Lanegan w/ The Stars of Track and Field & Jeff Klein, Sokol Underground, 9 p.m. $15. — The perfect rock instrument, Greg Dulli’s voice can make you cower or cry or stand up straight right alongside him, testifying to love both good and bad, a dark love that Dulli has seen and wants you to see with him. For this tour, the former Afghan Whigs frontman is teamed with Mark Lanegan, the growling, gut-punching genius behind Screaming Trees. Together, they’ve released a five-song EP called A Stitch in Time with former Whigs Joseph Arthur and Rick McCollum that includes a brazen, nasty cover of Massive Attack’s “Live With Me.” The last time Dulli was in town (Nov. 6, 2003), his nearly two-hour set wound up being on everyone’s best-of list. Expect nothing less.

When I showed up last night at O’Leaver’s, Black Squirrels had just already begun their set of fun, laid-back, folky acoustic songs, the kind that would sound perfect played on a ukulele. Pleasant and unobtrusive, it’s stuff that your mom would love. I’m surprised these guys haven’t played at Mick’s yet. The crowd was clearly there to see them, cheering for an encore, which the trio gratefully provided. Ten minutes after they were done, half the crowd of family and friends left. Looks like the poor Pomonas got Omaha’d.

Then to my surprise, while the Pomonas were setting up, I glanced up at the TV and saw that Tilly and the Wall were going to be on Letterman. I had no idea that they were scheduled for last night’s show. A small group gathered around the TV while the O’Leaver’s soundman wired up a microphone to broadcast the program’s sound over the bar’s PA. The Letterman stage featured the three Tilly girls all standing on plywood platforms like Barbie dolls, as if all three were going to tap dance instead of just Jamie. It’s hard to say how good or bad it sounded. They played “Bad Education” from the new album, which was probably the wrong choice (but which of their songs would have been the right choice?). Actually, it did sound bad, but everyone sounds bad on Letterman. Jamie, Kianna and Neely looked flashy and theatrical. The guy next to me asked if they were Prince’s latest project. “Who are they supposed to be? Vanity 6?” They did sort of come off as a label creation, like a quirky, indie version of The Dixie Chicks. Nick White was hidden on stage, and it wasn’t until about halfway through that the cameras panned away from all the tight close-ups of the tap shoes and hips to reveal Derek Pressnall off to stage right playing guitar and singing. No idea who the bass player was, apparently someone new to the band. If you missed it, I’m sure someone will put it on YouTube eventually. Getting on Letterman is quite an accomplishment, and you gotta believe it’ll result in moving at least an additional 5,000 units.

After all that, on came The Pomonas, playing their usual brand of Lawrence-sounding indie rock (I know, I know, what the hell does “Lawrence-sounding” mean… there’s something about KC/Lawrence indie bands of this vein that reminds me of all those mid-’90s bands from down there that I used to dig). It was a fun, sloppy set enjoyed by the few who remained.

Tonight’s big show is Jolie Holland and Dave Dondero at Mick’s. Someone told me last night that ticket sales have been brisk, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it eventually sold out. $15, 9 p.m.

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It’s a busy, busy Friday night with ton of shows going on. Here’s the rundown:

Tonight at Shea Riley’s, Members of the Press are celebrating their CD release show, made doubly special as it will be one of the final MOTP performances before frontman Randy Cotton moves to the Portland area. He says he fell in love with the PNW (that’s Pacific Northwest for you Midwestern types) after visiting his girlfriend there on a monthly basis. “I have been out here before on tour, but I never got to spend much time in Portland, until recently. I feel like there is a lot of opportunity for me in the area, so I’m gonna check it out for a while,” Cotton said. “As soon as I get settled in, my brother Barry (other bassist in MOTP) is going to spend some time out here. If he likes it, he will most likely move here, too.” As part of this special night, there will be a short set by Cotton and Mike Saklar’s old band, Ravine. And on top of that, Saklar’s new band, No Blood Orphan will play a set. And if that weren’t enough, there will be a set by Killdozer tribute band Shoeshine Boys. The $10 cover will get you a copy of MOTP’s new CD. Cotton is encouraging costuming. Do what you feel is right. 9:30, $10, Shea’s, 320 So. 72nd St.

Also tonight, it’s time to welcome back the The Pomonas at O’Leaver’s. The Lawrence indie dudes will likely be unveiling some new material from an upcoming album. Also on the O’Leaver’s dance card are The Black Squirrels and irresistible Omaha folkie Bill Latham a.k.a. Bill Donuts. $5, 9:30 p.m. No mention of costumes this time. Good.

Also tonight, two Benson-area folk-rock shows, starting with new band Hyannis at The Foundry in Benson (60th Ave and Maple, to be precise). 8 p.m. and FREE. Also in Benson, singer-songwriters Kyle Harvey and The Scott Severin Band are at The Barley Street Tavern, just 1/2 block south of 62nd and Maple. That one’s at 9 p.m. and also is FREE.

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This really is a Lazy-i exclusive, and when I use the word “exclusive,” I mean unlike most of the interviews seen here, this one won’t appear in The Reader. It doesn’t mean that no one else in the Omaha community printed an interview with Guster. In fact, the reason this won’t appear in The Reader is because the interview was “called” by another writer weeks and weeks before I asked for the story. Instead of walking away, I still wanted to see what the men from Guster have been up to since the last time I interviewed them (here). And as a tip o’ the hat to the power of online webzines, the band’s publicist and the band agreed to do an interview with good ol’ Lazy-i. So here it is. Enjoy it, and also go to the One Percent Productions website and buy a pair of tickets to the Halloween night Guster concert at Sokol Underground. I know that a majority of Lazy-I Omaha readers will likely be downstairs at the Underground that same night, where Now It’s Overhead will be playing with Summerbirds in the Cellar & Coyote Bones. I don’t blame them. But if you’re a Guster fan and never been to a Guster concert, you’d be well-served to make your way upstairs that night (NIO was just here a few months ago, anyway). And, gosh, when was the last time you got to rub elbows with a more westerly-leaning Omaha crowd?

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Column 98 — The Temple of Simon
What does genius sound like?

It was 10:30 on Sunday night. The Tigers had just got their last out, balancing the series at one game apiece. And the last thing I wanted to do was drive all the way downtown and pay $5 to stand in a smoke-filled club for two hours to be jostled and bumped and told to get out of the way. I had to work the next day, ferchrissake. And I was bone tired. And dammit, it was cold outside.

But this was a Simon Joyner show, and you always have to think twice before deciding to go or not to go to see Simon. The occasion was the “CD release party” for his new album at The Goofy Foot Lodge, and I couldn’t miss it. Simon really is a genius in our midst, but here’s the deal:

In last week’s issue of The Reader, there’s a terrific feature written by Jesse Stanek about Simon and his new album. If you haven’t read it, it’s still online at The Reader website. Find it. Jesse did an impeccable job capturing what went into the new record. But there’s one point that Jesse kinda sorta failed to mention whilst calling the new record “poignant” and “nothing short of spectacular.” And it’s an important point. See, you can tell people how much of a genius Simon is, how brilliant and brave and true every word of his lyrics are, you can place every brick you can find and carefully build your temple to Simon Joyner, but at the end of the day, when you take one of his records and play it for your ma or pa or Joe Lunchbucket who lives out in West Omaha Wonderbreadland, the reaction will always be pretty much the same: “Who in the hell is this guy, and where’d he learn to sing?”

To forget to mention that Simon’s voice is an acquired taste is like forgetting to mention that little detail about steak tartar. When the plate arrives, there’s going to be some explaining to do. If you’re honest, you can’t not explain that Simon’s voice can be — and often is — painfully off-kilter. You can either get by that little fact, or you never will.

Case in point, whilst standing next to a local musician at one of Joyner’s last O’leaver’s shows — a musician who has always admired Joyner’s music — we listened as Simon climbed one of his quivering-Dylan-drunken-man-stumbling arpeggios, wondering if he’d make it to the top, and the musician turned to me and smiled and said, “I don’t get it. The guy cannot sing.” I told him — firmly but gently and half-joking — “You’re not listening. You can’t hear the genius with that smile on your face. Simon’s trying to tell you something, about his life, about your life, and you’re going to miss it if you keep concentrating on the fact that he’s completely out of tune.”

Simon disciple Conor Oberst has a similar style. You can play his early works for just about anyone out-of-the-know and you’ll get the same “braying sheep” comments about his voice. I realize it’s sacrilege to say that in this day when Conor has been thrust on stage with Stipe and Springsteen and Emmylou, but folks, his early genius was heard in the voice of a bleating, fuzzy farm animal. Joe Sixpack who works down at the Kum and Go doesn’t get it. And never will.

But here’s the rub: I provide the above confession whilst rubbing the red marks on my knees after kneeling at the temple of Simon Joyner most of my music-loving life. I’m one of those devotees, those followers, and have been since back in the day when Simon was a local teenage heart-throb that caused the little girls to rush the stage, their hearts a-swoon (I’ve seen it, at The Howard St. Tavern circa 1994).

I have listened to almost everything Joyner has recorded, starting with his cassette-only release, Umbilical Chords, to his masterpiece The Cowardly Traveller Pays His Toll to the droll, tiring Heaven’s Gate to the twangy rapture of The Lousy Dance, and now, to his second high-water mark, the just-released ensemble record with his band, the Fallen Men called Skeleton Blues. And in all of it, I’ve always found something that was impossible to forget. But I had to get past his voice first. It wasn’t easy, but I did it. And you can, too. You’ve done it before, for Dylan and Petty and even Conor. You’ve seen beyond the awkward croon and found the genius that touched your lives. Joyner’s music can do that, too. But you can’t hear it if you don’t listen.

Went to a couple shows this past weekend. Last night’s Simon Joyner gig down at Goofy Foot Lodge was the better of the two. Plans call for providing a little more detail and a review of Joyner’s new album in this week’s column, online Wednesday or Thursday. Look for it. Opening act The Miracles of God, who has opened for Simon on a few other occasions, sounded completely different to me, in a good way — like a hybrid of punk and beer-bottle rock, the kind of punk you might hear in a truck stop driving east of Chicago. Dirty and loud. They played a couple shows with Outlaw Con Bandana leading up to this gig (who I missed last night, thanks to the Cardinals). Outlaw apparently had some van troubles on this short tour, troubles as in getting T-boned somewhere around Iowa City. I’m told their van was totaled. I assume no one was hurt or they wouldn’t have played last night. Joyner, incidentally, declared them his current favorite local band during his set — quite an honor (if you ask me).

The Goofy Foot continues to be one of the cooler bars in Omaha that still doesn’t make you feel out of place, even if you’re wearing a Ft. Calhoun Pioneers hoodie and a stocking cap (it was cold last night). Their pseudo stage is still somewhat lacking — actually, it’s more of an anti-stage as you seem to be looking down at the band rather than up to them — but their sound system is more than adequate for the room. It does have a similar “standing in the way” problem that The 49’r has — if you’re not at a table or up at the pool tables, you’re probably in someone’s way. Oh well. They have the cheapest Rolling Rock in town, incidentally. More on Simon Wednesday (or Thursday).

I didn’t get a good enough feel at Saturday night’s Titanmoon/Davan show at O’Leaver’s to give a real review (I was chatting with someone in the back during most of the set). Titanmoon was fun, poppy rock, and durn good. Davan was quirky and didn’t hold my attention. Neither band was a good fit opening for the thunder of Noah’s Ark Was a Spaceship, which pounded the place to rubble. Perhaps the bands are friends or the touring bands were just thrown on the night’s bill? No idea.

Tonight at Sokol Underground, Detroit’s Electric Six with Aberdeen City and The Blue Van. I’m listening to Electric Six’s “I Buy the Drugs” right now — sounds like a throwback to early ’80s FM radio rock a la Jack Black, lots of keyboards and guitar and a big, bad chorus. Could be fun. Niz wrote about Aberdeen City here in the OWH this weekend — their guitarist has Omaha ties, apparently, and Steve Lillywhite likes ‘am. $12, 9 p.m.

Here’s this week’s Slowdown photo. As always, click the thumbnail to enlarge. The cranes have been busy, but it’s getting colder out there, folks. Can they get it buttoned down before the heavy stuff moves in?

Post ’em here.>

Here’s what we got for the weekend, folks:

It starts tonight with The Willowz and The Terminals at O’Leaver’s. Hopefully more people will show up this time for The Willowz than when they came through here last August. $5, 9:30 p.m.

Tomorrow night is another one at O’Leaver’s, starting with Noah’s Ark Was a Spaceship and Electric Needle Room. Dallas’ Titanmoon is an indie disco rock band. Sounds pretty fun, judging by their myspace page. Headliner Davan is weirdness from Lawrence. A lot of music for $5, 9:30 p.m.

Finally, Sunday, the long-awaited CD release party for Simon Joyner and the Fallen Men’s new CD, Skeleton Blues, at The Goofy Foot Lodge. Look for a full review of the CD online here sometime this weekend. Also playing are Outlaw Con Bandana and The Miracles of God. $6, 9 p.m.

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Column 97: YouTubed
Videos are relevant all over again.

Overheard while out and about last weekend, talk of the new Ladyfinger (NE) video, the one featuring a slouched and beaten Matt Bowen — local legend and music hustler, former member of too many bands to list — pushing a broom in his role as a school janitor. I had to see it. But where?

Music videos have been around for what seems like forever, but they’ve never been a serious endeavor for local indie bands. What’s the point? You could spend thousands of dollars and hours making a video that ultimately will never be seen by anyone but your family and friends. MTV? Who do you think you are? A-Ha?

YouTube has changed all of that. Located at www.youtube.com, the website is one of technology’s ultimate time wasters right along with Madden ’07 and the Blackberry. Go there now and you’ll find linked off the homepage videos like “Sweet Tired Cat” — 27 seconds of a cat falling asleep, and “Chad Vader,” a 6-minute video that imagines Darth Vader as a grocery clerk at “Empire Market.” Funny? Well, sort of.

You’ll also find that aforementioned video of Ladyfinger’s “Too Cool for School” in all its cheesy glory. In fact, you’ll find just about any music video that you can remember seeing on MTV. Robert Plant’s “Big Log” circa 1983? It’s there. The A-Ha classic “Take on Me”? Of course. Cursive’s “Dorothy at Forty”? Yup, right along with every other video made by Saddle Creek artists, including The Faint’s “Agenda Suicide,” arguably the best music video ever produced by a local band.

Saddle Creek Records exec Robb Nansel likes YouTube. “It seems like a great way to get some additional exposure that bands may not have had access to before,” he said, adding that the website’s crappy Flash-based video technology is so poor that it won’t impact the label’s video sales. “But we have never viewed the music videos that we make as a revenue stream. We think of them as promotional materials for our bands, so the more people that see the videos, the better.”

Greg Edds, guitarist for local rock band Little Brazil, couldn’t agree more. Edds emailed me a link to their video for “Stretching Skin,” which captures the band playing in a well-lit practice space. He said the video has been viewed more than 1,300 times since it was uploaded to YouTube in September.

“(YouTube) definitely allows us and other bands to reach a world market without touring to those lengths,” he said. “It’s another avenue for bands to try something new… and free, creatively.”

But even more prolific than band-made music videos is live footage captured by fans — thousands of hours of it. You cannot go to a rock show these days without seeing those kids and their tiny palm-corders, capturing a performance that will be uploaded to YouTube the next morning.

The footage is clearly a breach of various copyright laws, but Nansel doesn’t seem to mind. “I think technically, people should ask permission,” he said, “but we have never asked anyone to take anything down.”

Those amateur indie-rock videographers certainly came in handy last Friday night for Saddle Creek band Two Gallants. Over the weekend, a number of outraged Houstonites emailed me to recount how Two Gallants were busted by the HPD during a performance at club Walter’s on Washington. They told stories of police brutality that bordered on Gestapo tactics, of people being thrown to the ground and 14-year-olds being “tazed.” However, the only mainstream coverage of the event, by Houston ABC affiliate KTRK, seemed to counter their claims, stating band members attacked the officer, who efficiently restored order. Who to believe? In the “old days,” most would rely on the ABC account.

But within hours of the confrontation, videos of the incident wound up on YouTube, capturing the frantic melee as it happened. One video clearly shows a cop taking down a band member on stage and calling for back-up. Another appears to capture a patron being pushed by the cop to the floor. Since they went online Saturday, the videos have been viewed more than 80,000 times. And that KTRK report has been updated, no longer stating the band attacked the cop.

In the end, the videos don’t capture how the scuffle began — that’ll be for a Houston court to determine (talk about your return engagements). As of Tuesday morning, the story had been covered by more than a dozen online news outlets, including Rolling Stone.com — many include links to the YouTube footage. You simply cannot buy publicity like that. And for a band that’s known in the indie music world for their song about spending a night in a “Las Cruces Jail,” they can now add a line about a real night in a Houston jail. Hopefully someone captured it on video.

Who would have thought Two Gallants getting busted in Houston last Friday night would become such a big deal? It’s a story that just isn’t going to die. The Houston Chronicle today follows with a lengthy feature headlined, “Melee Could Put the Hurt on Houston’s Music Scene,” with the underline “Brawl between HPD, band draws national notice, may keep acts away, fans say.” The story (here) says that Houston already has a bad rep among touring bands, and that the Two Gallants debacle is only going to make it worse. “Managers are trying to give their bands a chance in Houston. But there’s absolutely nothing we can say to help our case to get bands into town when they’re being attacked by cops. Whatever the official report is, there’s no excuse for it,” said local promoter Ryan Chavez, who booked the show. Two Gallants would be crazy to skip Houston now. Imagine the press coverage they’d receive, both locally and nationally, upon their return. The show would be huge. If they really want to make a statement about what happened, the best way to do it is from a Houston stage.

Doesn’t sound like that will happen though, based on the band’s interview with Pitchfork that went online yesterday afternoon (here). Adam Stephens’ and Tyson Vogel’s account of the situation is disturbing, painting a picture of a man-mountain strolling through the crowd brandishing a Taser like a cattle prod. “He was really focused on this one kid, who was really young,” said Vogel in the article. “I think he was 14 years old. He kept Tasing him over and over again. The kid started having convulsions or something. It’s so crazy. You can kill somebody with one of those things.” If true, that’s pretty creepy. The funniest line of the story comes from Stephens: “That guy was huge, and we’re skinny little indie rocker kids. It’s not like we go to the gym, and we definitely couldn’t take this guy on in any way. He was a big dude and he was on top of us, pretty much had us down.” So now the band is considering taking legal action, which would be a mistake. Says Vogel, “This is about a larger truth. We’re not trying to get something else out of it. We just want what’s right.” Good luck with that one.

Tonight at Sokol Underground, Thunderbirds Are Now! roll into town in support of their new album, Make History on Frenchkiss Records, a standard-issue indie rock album. With Rescue and Tie These Hands, $8, 9 p.m. Meanwhile, over at O’Leaver’s, it’s Mike Tulis’ Rock Movie Night featuring the documentary We Jam Econo: The Story of the Minutemen. Movie details are here. The film rolls at 9:30 and it’s FREE.

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