It was setting up to be a huge weekend for music, maybe the busiest weekend of the year. Too bad I didn’t get to see any of it.

I just got power back at my house yesterday. I know, I know… Benson had plenty of power Saturday night — the street looked lit up like the Vegas strip compared to my darkened neighborhood. But you young folks who live in apartments or still live with your folks will find out that things are different when you own your own place. There was no way I was going to head out with my street still in the black, leaving my dogs to bump around in the dark.

I was too tired to go out anyway. We didn’t have any damage to our home, but large branches fell off the silver maple that lives next to our sidewalk. I spent most of the day Saturday hauling away a few hundred years worth of trees to the Locust St. drop-off point. We got the street cleaned up by the end of the day, only to go back inside to no power.

Historically, my street has always come in last place in terms of getting power back. There’s no use in complaining. OPPD is like how AT&T was in the ’70s — a service monopoly. You take whatever they give you and say ‘thank you’ in return. There’s no one to complain to even if you wanted to.

And really, after driving around with truckloads of broken branches and seeing the devastation, I had nothing to complain about. Just down the street, a house was covered beneath a fallen silver maple, it’s branches and leaves covering the roof and windows like a giant green curtain. Who knows what lies beneath it? Giant holes in the roof? Broken windows? By now, the enormous fallen tree on Saddle Creek just south of O’Leaver’s has become legendary. Everyone has seen it and the damage it’s done. It’s impossible to look at it and not think, ‘Well, at least nothing’s wrong with my house.’

Still as Saturday night rolled around and we were getting ready for another night without power, I couldn’t help but grumble. Without food at home, we sat in Applebee’s on North 72nd and watched Billly Preston silently sing on Saturday Night Live over a plate of cold, poorly prepared baby back ribs. Teresa picked through a flaccid bowl of noodles that would go uneaten. Applebees always looks good in the commercials but never fails to disappoint. We got home after 11, driving through hopping Benson, but I was too tired to make my way back to TWR for Broken Spindles.

With the weather being so cool, we didn’t miss the air conditioning. And frankly, I’ve never been much of a TV person, so we didn’t miss the flat panel. What I did miss was not having access to music. I still had my iPhone, but without a power source, I didn’t want to waste its battery listening to music. On the counter sat an unopened copy of Conor Oberst’s new CD, received in the mail that morning. It would have to wait until the lights came back up, which I assumed wouldn’t be until Tuesdays or Wednesday.

The last time we lost power was a couple summers ago after a strange wind blew through the neighborhood smashing trees and knocking down power lines. We went five days in the dark — the whole time, the neighbors across the street had power. We could see them living their lives in air-conditioned comfort while we sweltered in the 80-plus degree night heat and humidity, unable to sleep, cursing OPPD with every breath.

After Day Four, you realize that everyone else has their power back, and begin to think that they’ve forgotten you. KFAB and KKAR — your only source of information — has long since shifted from crisis updates to their usual right-wing talk show programming.

Five days seemed like five weeks. And I figured it would be just as long or longer this time. After all, the damage is much more severe in our neighborhood. But then Sunday morning at around 10, shortly after walking the dog, the lights came back on, while, ironically, across the street, they still didn’t have power and wouldn’t until this morning.

Funny thing about losing your power. The whole time you sit there in the dark, with food rotting in your refrigerator, the hatred for OPPD goes off the meter. But within five minutes after your power is back up, it’s as if it was never off. The rage just seems to disappear. Within an hour, you’ve thrown out all your rotten food and the temperature in the house is back to normal. You’ve put away the flashlights and the candles and have headed out to the store to buy more stuff. You go on with your life as if nothing ever happened. And that’s all good and fine, but remember one thing: There are still thousands of people around town who still don’t have power and are as pissed off as you were just an hour earlier. So for all of you reading this from Starbucks or wherever you’ve found a wifi hotspot and a power outlet for your laptop, know that you are not forgotten. Your lights will be back on… eventually.

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There’s a crapload of stuff going on this weekend, not the least of which are Kool and the Gang/.38 Special in the park and the Summer Arts Festival (alright, alright, I’m just kidding…).

On top of my list is a performance by a band called Fortnight. Who are they and why is this show significant? Step right into the Wayback Machine and I’ll tell you…

Back in the January 1996, there was a little indie-pop band playing around town called Park Ave. Its members included Conor Oberst, Clark Baeche, Neely Jenkins, Jamie Williams and Jenn Bernard. Read about them here. After Park Ave. dissolved, along came the ultra-shortlived Magic Kiss in 2001, a band that included Jamie Williams and Jenn Bernard of Park Ave., along with Kianna Alarid, Matt Bowen and Jeremy Stanosheck. Read about them here. That was followed two years later by a band we all know and love called Tilly and the Wall, which included Alarid and Williams. For whatever reason Jenn Bernard didn’t participate in that band (methinks her teaching career may have had something to do with it).

Now Jenn is back in a new five-piece band called Fortnight that includes a handful of fellow teachers. They’ve already done some recording, have a myspace page and are playing tonight at The Papio Bowl’s T.O. Garcias, way out on 204 E. Lincoln St in Papillion. Something tells me that there won’t be any tap dancing in this band. Find out tonight at 9. No idea on the cover.

Also tonight, the reunion of long lost Omaha pop-rock band The 9’s at The Waiting Room — $7, 9 p.m.

Over at O’Leaver’s it’s Techlepathy with No Blood Orphan and Bird in the Rafters — $5, 9:30 p.m.

At The 49’r it’s Race for Titles and Latitude Longitude (who hasn’t played in ages) — $3-$5, 9:30 p.m.

And over at The Slowdown Jr. it’s The Fourth of July with Our Fox and Suzannah Johannes — $6, 9 p.m.

Things are just as busy tomorrow night. The prime show is probably at The Bemis, where they’re holding their “Creative Festival ’08.” Part of the festivities is an evening of performances in “Gallery 3” by Shiver Shiver, Bear Country, Columbia Vs. Challenger and Capgun Coup. The show starts at 7:30 and runs until 10:30, and is free.

Also:

At The Waiting Room, Joel Petersen (of The Faint) returns with his Broken Spindles project. According to brokenspindles.com, Joel has a new BS album in the can (called Kiss/Kick) but doesn’t know when it’s coming out. Apparently it’s not being released by Saddle Creek Records, as he’s been moved off the site’s main pages and onto their “Alumni/Inactive” page, along with The Faint. Opening is FTL Drive and Lincoln’s Pharmacy Spirits. $8, 9 p.m.

At Slowdown Jr., it’s Sarah Benck and the Robbers with Landing on the Moon and Caroline Smith. $7, 9 p.m.

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When Andy Norman left The Reader a few weeks ago to pursue a degree in environmental journalism, his departure was acknowledged in my column (here). Nothing was done, however, to acknowledge when Tessa Jeffers, the paper’s super-talented arts editor, flew the coop. Tessa left about a week before Andy’s last day. She’s got another writing gig now, but among her side projects was a story she wrote for SPIN magazine. The monthly feature, called Rock City, highlights the finer points of a different music scene in every issue. The July installment is focused on Omaha, and in addition to being on your local newsstands it’s available online here (see page 118). Tessa did an expert job highlighting the scene’s history, venues, bands and people. Jamie Pressnall from Tilly and the Wall provides some personal Technicolor. Check it out. We miss you, Tessa.

Tonight at The Waiting Room it’s RTX, the project of Royal Trux co-founder Jennifer Herrema. Opening is Imaad Wasif, Two Part Beast and Omaha’s own masters of garage noise mayhem, Box Elders. $8, 9 p.m.

Meanwhile, this evening at The Westside Community Center, 3534 So. 108th St., it’s the Music Saves Lives Blood Drive featuring Little Brazil, Brad Hoshaw, Honeybee and Bartlett. The only thing it’ll cost you is your blood, apparently. Show starts at 6 p.m.

Also tonight, at The Barley St., it’s My Pal Dragon (solo performance by Matt from Thunder Power), with The Night Gallery, Bear the Ghost, and Ghost of the Forest. 9 p.m., FREE.

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Up until I got the Brothers angle on this, I was thinking of skipping writing about the smoking ban altogether. What’s the point in delving into it? It’s a law. There’s no stopping it. We all knew it was coming and would get here eventually. How it does or doesn’t impact bars and venues is a moot point because it’s not going away. Those pro-and-con discussions have been going on for years leading up to the ban. Smokers can grumble and non-smokers can cheer but it won’t make a difference.

My only comment is directed to the evangelical non-smokers, the ones who think they’re doing everyone a favor by voicing their stern opposition to smoking. Everyone knows that smoking is bad for you. Just like everyone knows that drinking is bad for you, too. Forget about the whole one-glass-of-wine-per-day-is-good-for-your-heart argument — people don’t go to O’Leaver’s to have their one glass of wine per day. Here’s my point: You can live the healthiest life imaginable — not smoke, not drink, work out daily, cut out the red meat and sugar and eat a lean diet of grains and hand-blended protein shakes. It doesn’t matter. In the end, when your time is up, it’s up. All the clean living in the world isn’t going to stop it. My mom is a perfect example: didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, no history of disease in her family, played competitive tennis three days a week, lived on a diet consisting mostly of home-grown vegetables. She had regular check ups. Didn’t matter. She died at a relatively young age of 73 due to a fluke heart-related malady. There was nothing she or anyone could have done to prevent it. I remember when my friend Dan, who lives in Santa Monica, quit smoking years ago. Dan loved to smoke — he loved everything about it — the smell, the activity, the look. But he was smart enough to know that it wasn’t doing him or anyone else any good. So he quit. Dan always told me his greatest fear was being killed in a car accident. His reasoning: He could have been smoking the whole time.

I now await the torrents of non-smokers who have been patiently avoiding going to shows until the ban is in place. They should be here any moment now…

Column 179: Smell Ya Later
The first week of the smoking ban.

Forget about The Waiting Room or Slowdown or The 49’r. Everyone knows that Omaha’s most famous rock lounge doesn’t even feature live music. The Brothers on 38th and Farnam is recognized as the ultimate musicians hang-out, the Shangri-La of our music scene where on any given night you’ll find a sizable contingent of the city’s most talented rock musicians drinking, talking and smoking.

Smoking was as central to The Brothers’ vibe as booze and the punk rock on its jukebox. The dark, mid-sized club was always enveloped in a haze that hung over the pleather booths like a layer of smog over an LA freeway. Patrons were bent over their stools like little self-contained factories; smoke billowing from thin white stacks held in their yellowed paws. When you got home (or wherever you ended up) after a night at The Brothers, you stripped and tossed your clothes into the hamper (or trash). There was no way to wear those togs again after every fiber of cotton had been permeated in highly condensed tobacco stench.

I couldn’t imagine The Brothers without smoke. The thought seemed strange and alien. So when the smoking ban went into effect seemingly overnight last Tuesday, I had to find out what a smoke-free version of the bar would smell like.

I dropped in on Monday evening along with a handful of people who drank pints and shots, ignoring the College World Series playing on the TV over their shoulders. The ashtrays were gone, but the legacy of years and years of smoking remained. The bar smelled like a hotel room that recently went non-smoking — a strange musk of detergent, mildew, nicotine and dirty orange peels.

Owner Trey Lalley, who is as much a fixture of the Omaha music scene as The Brothers itself, was on the phone with his wife, who was out shopping for ashtrays to place out on the sidewalk. Lalley said even after the law supposedly went into effect, The Brothers continued to allow smoking. Why not? Local bar owners hadn’t received notification from the city that anything had changed. The only thing they knew is what they read in the Omaha World-Herald — hardly an official city document.

So the ashtrays stayed until last Friday night, when a disgruntled customer who’d had a run-in with the bar earlier in the week called the cops. Johnny Law rolled up outside, explained the situation, and shortly thereafter the ashtrays disappeared along with any lit cigarettes (The Brothers still sells smokes behind the bar).

Lalley said police won’t be out monitoring the smoking status of bars. Instead they’ll react to 911 calls placed from coughing citizens. If the cops show up and catch someone smoking, the person will be cited and fined, along with the venue. Lalley, who isn’t a smoker, said he was willing to pay any fines, but said that the repeated recorded offenses eventually would come back to haunt him when it came time to review his liquor license. It wasn’t worth the risk.

He’s not worried about the ban’s effect on his business. The Brothers has a clientele that’s willing and able to get up and go outside to smoke. Smaller bars that depend on elderly smoking regulars, however, won’t be so lucky. They’ll feel the biggest brunt of the new law, he said, along with bars like his that don’t have the luxury of a beer garden.

Lalley’s biggest complaint: Bars have always been places where people go to smoke as well as drink. Everyone knows this. Now with the ban, where will people go to get their tobacco fix? Well, they’re going to stay home and light up around their family, their kids and in places where no one ever smoked before.

Trey said the ban was designed to protect employees who, advocates say, have a right to work in a smoke-free environment. But the idea that the people who work at The Brothers have no other options for income is insulting to Lalley. He knows better. So do the employees who work there.

The smoke-free Waiting Room had that same lingering old hotel-room stench Friday night. But the first thing I noticed about the ban had nothing to do with my nose. As I walked through Benson on my way to the club, I could hear voices and laughter coming from every direction, as if there was a street festival going on. Looking down Maple St. and the cross-street that runs by Jake’s lounge — people were standing along the sidewalks, enjoying the camaraderie of being in a segregated group probably for the first time in their lives. Smokers are a jolly bunch, but then again, the weather was terrific. How jolly will they be in February?

The ban didn’t seem to impact the venue’s draw — The Waiting Room was crushed with people to see Satchel Grande. Outside on the sidewalk, everyone debated the ban. A guy who had lived in NYC when that city’s smoking ban went into effect five years ago said the biggest impact wasn’t on stand-alone clubs like The Brothers, but on music venues who he said suffered a noticeable drop-off in patronage.

But somehow, New York’s club scene survived without smoking. Something tells me Omaha’s will, too.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

Generally when I’m this late with an update I just skip it, but I would be remiss in not mentioning one of the best benefit shows I’ve seen scheduled in a long time. Tonight at The Waiting Room it’s Tunes for Townsend, a benefit for 12-month-old Townsend Holan. One Percent has all the details, but here’s the line-up: Beginning at 7 it’s Kyle Harvey, Lincoln Dickison, Brad Hoshaw, The Filter Kings, McCarthy Trenching, Black Squirrels, Satchel Grande and Sarah Benck and the Robbers. Cover is $10, with all the money going to the Holan family. Definitely check it out.

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Heard walking from my car to The Waiting Room Friday night: Voices and laughter coming from every direction, almost as if there was a street festival going on. Looking down Maple or that cross-street that runs by Jake’s lounge — people were standing around on the sidewalks, smoking. It was the first weekend without cigarettes, and the effect was to create a sort of camaraderie. Smokers are a jolly bunch. And the weather was terrific. If it could only be that nice outside all year ’round… but it won’t be.

The smoking ban certainly didn’t impact the draw at TWR — it was packed with hippie-folk and middle-aged suburbanites for Satchel Grande — a band I never figured for having a hippie fan base. Nothing wrong with hippies — at least they like to dance and have a good time — which is a stark contrast to the typical slump-shouldered, intense indie crowd I’m used to seeing. SG has emerged as the city’s best all-around party band fueled by their own hot original disco-funk songs — it’s hard to not have fun at one of their shows, unless you get slapped in the face by some guy’s nasty dreads.

Without smoke, TWR smelled like a hotel room that recently went non-smoking — a strange musk of detergent, nicotine and dirty orange peels. It’s going to take time to air out the place.

So how does O’Leaver’s smell? I intend to find out tonight when Brimstone Howl plays, along with Fontana. $5, 9:30 p.m. Meanwhile, over at The Waiting Room, it’s the maniacal metal of Bloodcow with Back When, The Clincher and North Carolina’s Black Skies. $7, 9 p.m.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

Show-wise, there’s not a lot going on this weekend. The show that was listed at O’Leaver’s tonight appears to have been cancelled, according to O’Leaver’s Myspace, which also says that out-of-town band Leeches of Lore has moved their set to The 49’r. I plan on dropping in at O’Leaver’s anyway just to see how the place smells now that the new smoking ban has gone into effect. Same with The Brothers, a bar I can’t even imagine walking into without being overcome by a wall of hazy smoke. Biggest show of the weekend is at a place that’s always been smoke-free — Slowdown Jr. — featuring Midwest Dilemma, Brad Hoshaw, Reagan and the Rayguns and Band of Annuals. $7, 9 p.m.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

Photographer/rocker Tony Bonacci and I recently chatted about his photo show hanging down at the Nomad ultra-lounge. The interview was for a story for The Reader. Here’s the outcome:

Natural Light
Photographer Tony Bonacci captures sound with a lens.

If you follow Omaha’s celebrated indie music scene, chances are you’ve seen photographer Tony Bonacci’s work before.

Bonacci quietly is becoming a go-to guy for some of the scene’s most important musicians, including Saddle Creek Records acts Mayday, Criteria and the long, lost duo Azure Ray.

A collection of 30 of Bonacci’s portraits (15 rock subjects, 15 non-rock) is currently on display at trendy Nomad Lounge in the Old Market. Among the show’s images are Mayday’s Ted Stevens working an exer-cycle, Orenda Fink in tribal face paint, Tilly and the Wall pounding out a tune on piano, and Baby Walrus hidden in a field of cattails.

One of the most striking photos is a black-and-white portrait of Tomato a Day’s Brian Poloncic sitting on the front stoop of his South Omaha home while his faithful German Shepherd looks on. The photo was used as the inner-sleeve artwork for Tomato a Day’s most recent album, The Moon Is Green.

Among the non-rock portraits (though you’ll recognize a few local musicians among them) is a quirky photograph of Bonacci’s neighbor smoking a cigarette with lipstick smeared across his lips.

Bonacci, 24, has been taking portraits since he was 18. Largely self-taught (He took one photography class which he never completed), his influences include indie film directors Harmony Korine (Gummo, Mr. Lonely) and Larry Clark (Kids) and fringe portrait photographer Diane Arbus. While obviously constructed, Bonacci’s images capture subjects in settings both natural and oddly juxtaposed, rarely altering the surroundings. Using a Minolta XG-M 35 mm SLR, Bonacci depends on minimal fill lighting and performs only the most benign Photoshop post production on his images.

The simple hand’s off method is key to his matter-of-fact approach. “I think natural photos are interesting,” said the soft-spoken artist. “I’m not interested in altering them after the shoot, and that’s something you don’t see very often anymore.”

Bonacci’s role as rhythm guitarist for indie band Hyannis provided a convenient entry into Omaha’s music world, though “My photography is the main thing,” he said. “The music provides instant gratification. I like the idea of doing both, and wouldn’t give either one up.”

Still, his goal is to broaden his photography portfolio with national magazine assignments as well as more consignment work for bands. He’s also considering commercial photography, “If I can do it in my own style,” he said.

The show, titled Mach Shau! The Photography of Tony Bonacci, closes June 26 with a special event from 6 to 10 p.m. featuring a live music performance by one of Bonacci’s portrait subjects. Nomad Lounge is located at 1013 Jones St.

You can see an example of Tony’s work online at tonybonacci.com.

A slew of shows are slated for tonight:

At O’Leaver’s, Reagan Roeder and Mike Friedman open for touring band Little Pieces. $5, 9:30 p.m. Over at The Waiting Room, At the Drive-in co-founder and Sparta frontman Jim Ward’s side project, Sleepercar, plays. Sleepercar has been described as “alt country, similar to Wilco.” Opening is Flight Metaphor and Civicminded. $8, 9 p.m. Down at Slowdown Jr. it’s Javelins with Pomegranates and Honeybee. $7, 9 p.m.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

Tonight at The Saddle Creek Bar it’s G.G. Allin’s former backing band The Murder Junkies with Koffin Kats (Detroit horror psychobilly), Skinny Jim & the 9 Blacktops (Illinois rockabilly), Shot Baker (Chicago hardcore), Filthy Few (the RUSH of pornobilly!), and Officially Terminated (Lincoln punks). The mayhem starts at 7:30 and will run you $10. (thanks to Tuco for the data).

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—