Well, I’ve got this great interview with The Slip that I’m dying to put online, but y’all gonna have to wait until Friday to read it because I’ll be out of town for the next few days on biz (You can always find it in The Reader). That means no updates over the next few days. I still haven’t had a chance to write a live review of last Saturday night’s Eagle*Seagull/Coyote Bones show at the Saddle Creek Bar (it was a good one), and I don’t have time now, either. That said, I probably picked a pretty good week to be out of town. The only thing I’m going to miss is Book of Maps/Thunder Power/Hot Sick tomorrow night at O’Leaver’s (though you shouldn’t). I’ll probably be back in time to catch Unwed Sailor/Adam Weaver and the Ghosts Thursday night (also at O’Leaver’s). Have a good week and I’ll talk to you Friday.

Post ’em here.—

This is one of the more rambunctious weekends for shows in quite a while. Four humdingers at four different venues. If Omaha were Lincoln, all of these would be mere walking distances from each other and we could stumble from one to another lost in an indie rock music haze. But instead, we’re in Omaha.

Let’s do this in alpha order, just so’s it doesn’t appear that I’m showing any favoritism.

Down at Sokol Underground, Brimstone Howl takes the stage with Bazooka Shootout, Alaphabet, & I Miss America. The Howl are flying high these days, what with signing to Alive Records and working with the guy from The Black Keys. No idea who the other bands are, and various research tools (Google, Myspace) come up with nothing. Still, $5 is a cheap price just to see Brimstone on a big stage before the band explodes to national notoriety. 9 p.m.

Meanwhile, over at The Saddle Creek Bar, Coyote Bones wraps up a nice little tour that took them to the East Coast and back. Playing along is Eagle*Seagull (who, one would hope, will be unveiling some new material) and Neva Dinova frontman Jake Bellows. $5, 9 p.m.

Just over the hill at The PS Collective (6056 Maple St. — part of The Pizza Shoppe), Shelter Belt is celebrating the release of their new CD, Under The World Awhile, with Omaha jazzman Luigi Waites & Paul Sim, The Masses, Fizzle Like A Flood (who’s coming out of retirement for this show), and Lincoln’s Papers. Shelter Belt kicks it off with an instrumental set at 6 p.m. and the thing runs all night (or at least to midnight). This one’s free and will be packed (with musicians, if no one else).

Finally, over at The 49’r, The Third Men take the stage with The Pendrakes. It’s been quite a while since T3M have played, so maybe we’ll get treated to a few new tunes and a new cover song. Niner shows start around 10 and will run you up to $5 (though I don’t know how much they’ll be charging tonight).

Choose wisely.

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What can be made of the fact that Cursive only drew 800 last night at Sokol Underground? Some might say that the number is significant in its diminutiveness, a bellwether of sorts of the lagging interest in either the band and/or indie music in general. Maybe, maybe… But I’m not so sure that it means anything. Cursive just played the same venue in July — had I gone to that one I probably wouldn’t have went last night, either. And then there’s the $14 ticket – the highest price I can remember for a Cursive show, probably due to all the opening bands (who I missed, btw, due to Rutgers). Still, one would hope that a band like Cursive could sell out Sokol Auditorium even at that price, especially when you consider such unfortunate, lame shitmeisters like Hinder easily sell out the place at a higher price. Like everyone else in this scene, I blame radio for our area youths’ poor taste in music. They’ve been indoctrinated to believe growling, talentless swine like Kottonmouth Kings and Slipknot are “important” music worth their time and money. Like I’ve always said, you play anything on the radio over and over and over and the listeners will find something they like about it, which explains why that wretched piece of novelty shit by Psychostick is actually selling (and some would say, also explains Tilly and the Wall).

But I digress…

It was a different sounding Cursive than I’ve seen over the years, a more restrained, almost adult-contemporary version. The 8-piece came out at around 11 amid a cloud of dry-ice smoke. The line-up included a 3-piece horn section (one of them doubled on keyboards) and a cellist. By god, it bordered on being a lounge act. The sound was certainly more refined than when only the four members play. That version is rowdier, noisier, much more dangerous, and unconcerned if a little thing like melody gets lost in the jangular din. Even when Gretta Cohn was in the band, you rarely could hear her despite the fact that she was plopped down right up there front and center, obscenely straddling her instrument.

Last night’s cello player got stuck somewhere way in the back, but you could hear every stroke of her bow (Every time I heard Cohn play, she might as well have been playing a cardboard cut-out of a cello). Whether it’s their new songs or the arrangements or the deft touch of the soundman, utter noise no longer dominates the ensemble. Cursive has become less metal and more mellow, for reasons I can’t quite put my finger on. I noticed early in the set that a stone sober Tim Kasher was doing a lot of finger-pointed pontificating along withother weird hand gestures while he sang (At one point, he sang while holding the back of his right hand against his left cheek. Try that right now and imagine how odd it looks). It didn’t dawn on me until about halfway through the set that the only way he could be doing all those gestures was by not playing his guitar. Ted Stevens now is the dominate guitar player, and maybe always has been, though I remember Kasher being much bolder with his ax in the old days.

All that instrumental restraint meant that Kasher was much more out front with his vocals, which have never sounded better — maybe because this was the first show of the tour and he’s well-rested. Kasher showed his full vocal range, from the low death rattle to the usual Robert Smith-ian howl, to the classic bluesman grunt to a girlish falsetto complete with high-pitched squeal. Rarely has he sang with such broad, emotional range.

The set, however, seemed short, though the band mixed it up pretty well with material from the last three albums. Songs off Happy Hollow rightfully took the lead. For me, the new songs (“Big Bang” “Dorothy…” “Bad Sects”) were the night’s highlights (but then again, I love the new album) along with the few from Domestica (“Lament for Pretty Baby,” “Night I Lost the Will to Fight”). There were a couple weird interpretive numbers that bordered on noodling, and a few songs that I didn’t recognize where Kasher seemed to be wandering.

Keeping with the restraint theme, even Kasher’s between-song monologues — which can go on for five minutes or more — were kept to a minimum. There was only one real rant about five songs in where he declared his unconditional love for Nebraska, saying that if you’re from Nebraska, it’s okay to say it sucks, but if you’re not, than fuck you, or something along those lines. Kasher said he feels safe in Nebraska “but not in some sort of weird, racial way.” (I’m paraphrasing.) He later introduced the band but skipped the core line-up, only saying “these guys are trying their hardest to smile tonight.” What the hell did that mean?

Tonight we all have to squeeze into The 49’r for The Terminals CD release show with The Shanks and Now Archimedes! I see from perusing the Star City webboard that CDs will be in hand and available. I suggest you go to the show and buy one along with a copy of The Shanks’ new 7-inch. You may also want to pick up a record player at Sol’s or Best Buy while you’re driving around… you’ll need it.

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Column 100 — Metal Machine Music
The Terminals turn up the noise.

I was driving west on I-80 headed to Lincoln doing close to 90 because everyone else was and you either keep up or get run right off the road. No one told me about all the construction, the constant “Stay In Your Lane” warning signs that flipped past as the road jerked indiscriminately in odd directions, the left lane mere inches from large concrete barriers designed to keep semis and large SUVs from jumping into oncoming traffic. Lord only knows what hitting those could do to something like my Mini Cooper, which has a wheelbase akin to a rollerskate and the suspension of a go-kart. Every time my tiny tires found a piece of grooved pavement, it jerked the Mini in the wrong direction, either toward the deadly barriers or the adjacent lane crowded by a fleet of Voyagers, Caravans and Ram-tough Dodge SUVs that towered over me, blocking my view.

Meanwhile, blaring on my car stereo was the new CD by The Terminals, the band I was headed to Lincoln to interview. I’d seen them a number of times at O’Leaver’s and The 49’r, playing hep-cat cool retro garage punk spiked by Dave Goldberg’s gospel-infused organ twirls, frontwoman Liz Hitt’s snarling, jagged guitar riffs and Brooks Hitt’s beefy stick work. Fun stuff.

The CD, however, sounds nothing like that. Instead, most of the songs sound like a room filled with industrial power tools — jack hammers, grinders, band-saws — tearing through a concrete wall while an angry monkey pounds on a metal slab with a stone hammer. The recording is blown-out and raw. By the time I arrived at the Hitts’ Lincoln home, my back was as tight as an iron rod and I could already feel the tension-pain in my neck that would haunt me the following day.

To say that The Terminals are not entirely thrilled with their Dead Beat Records debut, Forget About Never, would be an understatement.

“The first time I heard it I was furious,” Goldberg said. “I called Liz with a list of complaints and got to No. 1 before she hung up. There are parts of the record that border on migraine-inducing industrial noise.”

The story behind the recording began when Liz sent a handful of 7-inch records to Tom Spencer, the label chief at Dead Beat Records, hoping to get him interested in Brimstone Howl, another band on Hitts’ and Goldberg’s Boom Chick label. She also threw in some Terminals recordings just for kicks. “They were quite impressive,” Spencer said of the Terminals. “So I told the band that I was interested in doing their debut album. After deciding on the track list, we got Andy Caffrey from The Horrors to record the album, and it turned out great.”

Caffrey, Liz said, is “hot shit, and we accidentally made the mistake of telling Tom we knew him.”

The band recorded the album live at The Zoo Bar when it was closed. Amps were placed in the bathrooms while the drum set was on stage. “(Caffrey) ran everything into this fucking box of noise and what came out the other side became the record,” Liz said. “Getting Caffrey to record it was Tom’s way of getting us credibility with these (types of) bands.”

“With Andy, you take the good with the bad,” Brooks said of Caffrey. “He has a weird view of things. He’s the most over-the-top guy doing this kind of recording.”

“The aesthetic is similar to other stuff you hear on Dead Beat,” Goldberg explained. “The audience they’re catering to are total speed freaks that enjoy that type of thing because they’re always in that state of mind.”

“Uh, I don’t know if trashing our record during the interview is the way to go,” Brooks added sheepishly. The fact is, the band actually likes the record, and so do I. The recording is almost artsy in its brazen, abrasive approach. The wall of static punk rock is aggressive and unnerving, and ultimately, very cool.

Goldberg said it took a few spins before his hatred for the recording turned into admiration. “Some of it is awesome. I’m pretty sure that people in Europe that are fans of this style of recording will go ape-shit over it. Most bands wouldn’t put it out, and that aspect of it I enjoy. It is, dare I say, controversial.”

He is concerned, however, that the stark contrast between the record and their usual live sound could result in some confusion, if not disappointment. “I’m afraid that people who are into the record will see us live and say ‘What’s this shit?’ and by that same token, people who like us live will buy this record and say ‘What’s this shit?'”

Replicating the record’s sound, however, is out of the question. “It would take a lot of expensive or broken equipment for us to sound like that on stage, Goldberg said. “Perhaps we should start poking holes in our PA speakers.”

Omaha fans will get a chance to check it out Friday, Nov. 10, when The Terminals celebrates the official release of Forget About Never at The 49’r with Now, Archimedes! and Boom Chick artist The Shanks, which also will be celebrating the release of their “Cut Me” 7-inch single. For those of you driving down from Lincoln for the show, you may want to wait until you get home to listen to the CD, for your nerves’ sake. Drive safely.

Before we get to the news, just a quick reminder that it’s election day, which means you need to get your lazy ass to the polls and vote. I can’t remember the last time an election was more important. Check out the Douglas Co. Election Commission website to find your poling place and to see a sample ballot. Do it, people.

Onward…

Anonymous American frontman Matt Whipkey is on the mend after injuring himself Oct. 20 in a bizarre scissors accident in his bedroom. “It’s hard to explain what happened,” Whipkey said. Apparently he was using a pair of scissors to cut plastic zip ties that were holding together a bundle of guitar cables. “I got to the second to last tie and was holding it with my left hand and cutting with my right hand,” he said. “The scissors slipped and stabbed into my left index finger on the palm side underneath the knuckle. It severed the tendon in that finger.”

As a result of the injury, Whipkey couldn’t bend his finger at the knuckle. “For a professional guitar player, it’s as big a nightmare as it gets, right up there with losing your hand,” he said. Whipkey went under the knife right before Halloween to have the flexor tendon repaired and now has a huge scar on his finger beneath a cast that he’ll wear for the next month. Rehab is ongoing and it will take several months before the finger is easy to move. He has plenty of motivation to get back in playing shape with a 30-day solo tour scheduled to begin Jan. 10 and a CD release show slated for Dec. 30 at Sokol Underground.

Although the prognosis is good, Whipkey’s doctor tells him he’ll never play exactly like he did before. Time will tell. “It’s difficult to watch people play guitar now, especially at shows. It’s maddening,” he said. “I gained massive perspective on life as a result of the injury.”

***

The first news about Bright Eyes’ forthcoming LP is finally hitting the interweb. NME reports (from something they read in Spin) that the follow-up to I’m Wide Awake/Digital Ash will be a rather dark and stormy affair. “The apocalypse is a prevalent theme in my new songs,” Oberst said. “There’s a feeling in the world right now like everything is unravelling, but maybe that’s not a bad thing. I’m not convinced that the human race is good for this planet anyway.” Sounds like there will be some tsunami and hurricane-flavored country psychedelic folk rockers in the batch, along with songs about “telepathy” (unless Oberst was pulling Spin‘s chain). Read the full NME item here. Omahans will likely get a sneak preview of the new material at the Dec. 15 Bright Eyes/Simon Joyner/Bruces benefit concert at Sokol Auditorium. Tickets went on sale last Saturday, so if you wanna go, you better click on this here One Percent Productions link and buy some tix before it sells out.

***

It’s a busy Tuesday night musicwise, with two very hot shows going on around town. The Saddle Creek Bar will be hosting Starlight Desperation, Virgasound and This Blush ($7, 9 p.m.), while a few blocks away Ontario band Tokyo Police Club and Bombardment Society will be playing a rare Tuesday night show at The 49’r (No idea on the price for this one, though it’ll probably be around $5 and will start around 10).

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Her child-like voice has been compared to everyone from Kate Bush to Lisa Simpson. I fancy it as a quirky cross between Latka Gravis’ wife Simka on “Taxi” (played by Carol Kane) and Melanie (who sang “Brand New Key”). Even more unique than her voice, however, is her instrument of choice, a full-sized harp just like the kind you’ve heard in orchestras or will hear at the pearly gates (if you’ve been good). On her new five-song, 55-minute EP, Ys (pronounced “ees”), Newsom coos, howls, shrieks and cheeps in all her baroque glory, backed by her gentle, bouncing harp and a whole slew of strings, woodwinds and brass. It’s weird, wonderful and mysterious, like the soundtrack to your last puffy-clouded dream.

You’ve got to love the ambition of a band like Anathallo. The 7-piece outfit did choreographed interpretive dance moves, foot stomps, snaps, hand claps, played a variety of percussion instruments (including marching-band bass drum), flugelhorn, trombone, two tinkling xylophone things, as well as the usual bass/keyboards/drums, constantly shifting from instrument to instrument like an indie Blue Man Group, each member also singing pretty harmony vocals. It was lovely, like listening to a Sufjan Stevens Christmas album. Unfortunately, the lead vocalist doesn’t have Stevens’ vocal chops, and the songs, though appropriately lilting, lacked in substance. And you can’t help but ask yourself: Do they just sound like Sufjan Stevens or are they trying to rip him off? The resemblance is too keen to be a coincidence, though I’m sure no malice was intended. And while Stevens drew a near-capacity crowd when he and his band played here last year, only 50 showed up at Sokol Underground last night. But it was a devoted 50. Two girls standing next to me annoyingly sang along to every weird lyric Dashboard Confessional-style. I had to move.

Tonight’s hot ticket is tractor-punk band FortyTwenty and The Filter Kings, which features Lee Meyerpeter of Bad Luck Charm, at The Saddle Creek Bar, 1410 N. Saddle Creek Rd. The Saddle Creek has a number of good shows lined up for November, all listed at their new website (at www.saddlecreekbar.com), which features a handy gig calendar. Tomorrow night at the SCB Adam Weaver and The Ghosts play with Jon Hardy and the Public and Spring Gun. Next Tuesday is Starlight Desperation with Virgasound and The Blush. And then Coyote Bones, Eagle*Seagull and Jake Bellows are lined up for Nov. 11, while Ladyfinger plays there Nov. 18 and Drakes Hotel Nov. 24. Not bad, not bad. As I’ve said before here, I like SCB. It’s close to my house, you can usually find a place to park nearby, the PA is first class, the beer is cheap, and there’s plenty of places to sit or stand and watch the bands. I’m even told that food is served there, too, though I’ve never seen a menu. Yes, I’d like this place to join O’Leaver’s and The 49’r and Mick’s as important mid-town music venues. But for that to happen, SCB will have to continue to book decent shows every weekend, and make it even harder for people like me to choose between all those venues. Tonight’s Filter Kings/FortyTwenty show is $7, so is that Starlight Desperation show next Tuesday. The rest are just $5. All shows start at 9 p.m.

A quick rundown of the rest of the weekend. Tomorrow night, Hyannis plays at O’Leaver’s for their first “bar gig” ever. Could be an achievement or a train wreck. Playing with Hyannis is Tomato a Day and Nicholas Hugg. $5, 9:30 p.m. And then, Sunday, the weekend’s biggest show, Sean Na Na at O’Leaver’s. I’m hearing that the bar is closing sometime after the dinner hour, when it’ll be cleared out for a sound check, then reopened around 8 or 8:30. The show is slated to start at 9:30 and last I heard there was no opening band. Will Sean Na Na draw as well as Har Mar Superstar did the last time he played at O’Leaver’s? The jury is still out on that one, but I think it probably will even if only Tillmann’s friends show up (He has lots of them around here). So, if you’re interested, you better get there early.

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Column 99: Local Heroes
These four Omaha releases are keepers.

If the folks at The Reader are telling the truth, this will be the last time that this column will be dedicated to album reviews, as plans call for reintroducing a page of CD reviews sometime in the very near future (Hooray!). What better send-off then to review four just-released local albums, all of which deserve your hard-earned rubles.

Bright Eyes, Noise Floor (Rarities: 1998-2005) (Saddle Creek Records) — This compilation of junk drawer b-sides, limited-pressing EPs, unreleased tracks and other obscura is worth it (to me, anyway) if only for rereleasing “Drunk Kid Catholic” — a song that reminds me of my favorite live BE moment from spring of 2001 when Conor and crew opened for Low at Knickerbocker’s. Originally released as a UK single, I’ve only found this track as an illegal download. Now I’m legit. Add to that the inclusion of his Britt Daniel collaboration “Spent on Rainy Days” from the split EP Home, which, before it was reissued by Post Parlo, was going for a pretty penny on e-Bay, along with just about every other out-of-print Bright Eyes rarity. Thematically, all this old stuff (though, thankfully, nothing released before ’99) dwells heavily on drinking and women and the pain that comes with both. In the end, the rocking tracks out-gun the teary acoustic numbers (but isn’t that always the way?). So yeah, it’s a no-brainer for Bright Eyes fans, but taken as a whole, the collection stands up with the best of his stuff. Now when is Saddle Creek going to rerelease that Water cassette?

Simon Joyner and The Fallen Men, Skeleton Blues (Jagjaguwar) — Forget all that talk about his wonky voice and his brilliant lyrics, first and foremost, this is a band album. Standing alongside The Fallen Men, Joyner has finally released his inner-rock star, emerging cautious and slightly broken in a cloak originally tailored for the likes of Dylan. In fact, in a lot of ways this one reminds me of Dylan’s last couple of albums, cluttered and dense with musicians allowed to do their thing while their master tells tales of dark nights and loneliness. Easily the most tuneful collection Joyner’s ever released, the best moments come when the band’s allowed to stretch out, like on opening track “Open Window Blues” with its rolling bass that recalls The Doors, and the gorgeous string-laden “The Only Living Boy in Omaha,” wherein Joyner sings “Jimmy says there’s no God in the sky holding him for ransom,” in a way that instantly recalls Lou Reed. It’s not all roses. Just to remind us where he came from, Joyner ditches the band for the 10-minute closer “My Side of the Blues,” which is a struggle no matter how you slice it. Should have kept the band in the room, Simon. Maybe you should from now on.

Hyannis, Hyannis (self released) — It seems appropriate to follow Oberst and Joyner with a band that surely was influenced by both, though they may not know it. No question that these youngsters are a product of the Omaha indie scene circa now. Acoustic songs like “Ronnie” and “People Just Love” have that same acoustic hippy lilt that we’ve come to know from Neva Dinova, whereas “Timeline” and “Colorado” are pure modern-day Bright Eyes (without the lyrical depth). But maybe more than the usual club of Omaha indie scenesters, Hyannis recalls an aesthetic more in common with early Pink Floyd and Haight-Ashbury psychedelic rock that precludes their existence by, oh I don’t know, a couple decades. With 13 tracks and over 40 minutes, it may be a tad bit too ambitions for a debut (which is a nice way of saying that it gets kind of boring toward the end). Are they the next generation of Omaha indie? Time will tell.

Shelter Belt, Under the World Awhile (self released) — Maybe the biggest surprise so far in a year desperately in need of some surprises, Under the World… is a giant leap forward for a band that could easily have been written off after 2004’s overly long cheese factory called Rain Home. This time, frontman/vocalist Jesse Otto loses any and all comparison to Kenny Loggins, purposely throttling back his vocals so as to not get in the way of songs that reflect a sound that’s more modern than anything they’ve tried before. You could argue that tracks like the hand-clap-powered “Dry” and Timberlake-esque “So Sweet (I Have to Dance to Keep You Crying)” too obviously target radio except for the fact that these guys know they’ll never make it to nationwide FM without a miracle (though FM could do (and almost always does) much, much worse).

I have been known to get shit for liking Guster. In fact, I’ve gotten shit about it from certain members of the local music scene literally for years. But the fact is, I’ve always liked the band and respected what they do and how they do it. Guster easily could have been absorbed into the hippie jam-band circuit and spent the next 20 years mailing it in for a bunch of stoners who travel around to gigs in shitty VW vans looking for an excuse to get loaded every night. Instead, Guster has consistently tried to further their sound, working with producers like Roger Moutenot (known for his work with Yo La Tengo, among others). They’ve also always tried their best to entertain their fans, and achieved it every time, including last night, even with one of their core members almost down for the count.

Actually, I wasn’t really in the mood to go to Guster last night. I was still kind of whipped from Monday night’s Twilight Singers show (I don’t know how the One Percent guys do it every night). But three or four songs into their set and I was happy I made the cold drive down to Sokol Auditorium. Guster’s injured player was singer/guitarist Adam Gardner, who (as co-frontman Ryan Miller announced from the stage) has been suffering from pneumonia. Miller said the band had talked about canceling the entire week of shows, but Adam insisted on playing Omaha. The effects of his illness were obvious. Gardner was off pitch most of the evening and could barely carry his few vocal lines. This put Miller further into the spotlight, and he handled the duties with panache, singing better than I remember him ever singing.

The first half of the set was weighed down with songs from the new album. I’d like to tell you that they carried as well as the usual chestnuts, but they didn’t, and it wasn’t just a case of the crowd not being familiar with the material. Ganging Up on the Sun is probably the weakest Guster album in terms of straight-out, unforgettable hooks. No single song has that great-out-of-the-box quality of the best tracks from the last two records (There is no “Fa Fa” or “Barrel of a Gun” or “Amsterdam” or “Careful” in the bunch).

It was interesting to see where new guy Joe Pisapia fell into the line-up. He’s billed as the “multi-instrumentalist,” when in fact he spent most of the evening on bass, and to be honest with you, I prefer Guster without that added low end. The few times Pisapia strapped on an electric guitar were impressive – the band rearranged a number of songs to make room for him to spread out on solos, and he shredded every one of them. The other nitpick is how much time percussionist Brian Rosenworcel spent behind a full drum kit vs. his usual bongo set up. Most of the new songs appear to be written for the drum kit. I can’t say that I blame him for shifting to sticks knowing how he bludgeons his hands every night, but for me, that bongo sound is part of what defines Guster, and I hate to see it go. Combine the added bass with the drum set, and Guster’s usual buoyant sound becomes weighed down in low-end, especially in a hall like Sokol that’s somewhat boomy to begin with.

That’s a lot of complaining, when in fact, last night’s set was a lot of fun. Miller is a true entertainer. His combination of wit and a new short haircut makes him come off as a cross between Timothy Busfield and Andy Dick. When it came to the end of the evening, he asked the crowd if they wanted the band to leave the stage for the obligatory “good night, Omaha” pause or to simply stay on stage and go right into the encore, which everyone knew was coming anyway. The crowd of around 700 opted for them to stay, so at the end of the set he said, “Good night, Omaha!” followed moments later with “Thanks for sticking around for the encore.”

* * *

I don’t own a cell phone so I don’t have a clue how the billing works. Sean Tillmann owns a cell phone. And apparently his “plan” charges him mucho dinero for calls to and from Canada, which explains my rather short feature on Sean Na Na. In retrospect, I don’t know what more we could have talked about anyway. I’d heard he’d was burned out with doing the Har Mar Superstar schtick, but that apparently ain’t the case. He also has a new album in the wings, but no real date has been set for release, at least no date he was willing to tell me. I can tell you that this show will be madhouse packed. Everyone in Omaha loves Sean Tillmann, but few love him more than the guys that run O’Leaver’s, who are running this show Nov. 5. Want in? Get there early. You’ve been warned.

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