The conclusion of the three-part mini-series known as The Good Life’s Eastern Nebraska Tour is performed tonight at Sokol Underground with Drakes Hotel and Mal Madrigal. $9, 9 p.m. It’s the last significant show before Christmas, so get it in while you can.

In other indie music news, Pitchfork has posted their annual top-50 for the year (read it here). There are a few surprises, one of which is that Joanna Newsom wasn’t No. 1. A glance at the various lists around the ‘net indicated that Ys is maybe the most-lauded album of the year. It didn’t even make my list, though, which goes online next Wednesday along with the usual Year in Review story that you’ve all been waiting for. And for the first time in a while, no Creek band made the Pitchfork list (but I may be wrong about this — were any Creek releases in the ’05 Pitchfork list?).

See you at the show (I’m really gonna make it this time).

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

Well, I parked the Sidekick over at Kelley’s Hilltop and made my way to the Saddle Creek Bar last night at around 10:30. I got as far as the front door. Looking through the windows, I could only see the backs of people pushed to the pool tables. Above their heads, Ryan Fox was on stage, presumably playing the opening set with Art in Manila (Fox is in a death-struggle with Mike Tulis for the honor of being the hardest working man in the Omaha music scene, playing sets last night with both Manila and The Good Life). I turned to a couple guys standing outside the door smoking and asked what the chances were of me getting an quick beer inside. They just laughed. Having had a grueling week, I didn’t feel like standing in a crush mob for two hours. Besides, I could see The Good Life Saturday at Sokol Underground… Or if I lived in Lincoln, tonight at Knickerbockers where Domestica was opening along with The Golden Age. $8, 9 p.m.

What else is going on this holiday weekend? Tonight, Adam Weaver and The Ghosts play at Mick’s with a slew of Omaha singer-songwriters including the irascible Kyle Harvey and former Kite Pilot member Austin Britton, who one assumes is in town for the holidays. Your $5 cover goes to support the Mosaic Community Development. Starts at 9.

As mentioned above, The Good Life play at Sokol Underground Saturday night with Mal Madrigal and Drakes Hotel. $9, 9 p.m.

And then it’s Christmas Eve. Whoop! Whoop!

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

Column 106: Wishing in Stereo
We’ve got everything here, but…

Always striving to be a team player, I thought I’d add to the wishful discussion of The Reader’s annual “holiday wishes” issue. But when I sat down to write this column, there was one undeniable problem. From an indie music perspective, there really isn’t that much to wish for. We’ve got it pretty good here in ol’ Omaha.

I’ve done my fair share of traveling around the country, whether for work or pleasure. And whenever I’ve had the chance I’ve gone out of my way to check out the local music scenes in these far-off lands. Other than New York City and Austin, I’ve yet to find a town with as robust a music scene as Omaha’s in terms of quality local bands and the chance to hear the best touring acts.

There are probably more than 100 active original local bands in Omaha. Sure, most of them suck, but a lot of them are pretty freakin’ good and more than a few have garnered a national following thanks to terrific songwriting, first-class musicianship and a strong Midwestern work ethic that puts them on the road for weeks at a time despite financial (and mental) risk. Eventually they always come home to roost — usually around the holiday season — just like The Faint and Bright Eyes and The Good Life have for the past two weeks. The Good Life doesn’t have to play three nights at three different local venues. The Faint didn’t have to do two back-to-back nights at Sokol and Bright Eyes and Simon Joyner and Alex McManus didn’t have to do a benefit concert for The Bemis. But they do and they did and we’re all better for it.

So what else do we really need? More music venues? We’ve got plenty already, with new ones waiting in the wings. Get out your piggies and count: O’Leaver’s, Saddle Creek Bar, The 49’r, Mick’s, Sokol Underground and Auditorium, The Scottish Rite Hall, as well as the clubby West Omaha venues like Shag and Shea Riley’s and upscale theater spaces like The Holland Center, The Orpheum, The Music Hall and The Qwest Center. What more could you ask for? An all-ages club? Perhaps, perhaps… but your wishes should be grounded in at least a hint of reality. It would take either an ageless core of organizers who would never outgrow the venue or a good-hearted millionaire to make one work. We’re lacking in both. Even still, there’s Sokol and the Mosiac Center and The Rock.

How about good independent music stores? We’ve got that covered as well, with Homer’s, Drastic Plastic, The Antiquarium, Zero Street, Leola’s, and Kanesville across the river, to name a few. Now all we need to do is patronize them. Quit being a bunch of cheapjack hustlers and buy your music at the indies instead of saving a couple bucks at the faceless box stores. A dollar spent at an indie record store is a dollar spent supporting your music scene, because the guy or gal behind the counter most likely is someone in a local band trying to scrounge up enough bread to go back on tour, buy a new guitar or pay for studio time.

So let’s do an inventory: We’ve got the bands, the venues, the music stores. What else could I possibly wish for? Amidst all this wealth, I don’t want to sound greedy, but I do have a wish:

I wish there was just one good radio station in this town. But that’s not really a wish, that’s asking for a miracle.

I know that the lack of real college radio is aging me way before my time, forcing me to listen to the dispatches from the End-of-the-World News Team at NPR or the droning, pointless back-and-forth nattering of sports talk radio. There are no other options. Retro FM is a bizarre life-support system for those who desperately want to hold onto the memories of a time when they had hopes and dreams and could enjoy new and unfamiliar things. And while the quality of that old time rock ‘n’ roll will never be heard again, feeding at that trough will only make you lose sight of the younger world around you, turn your hair gray and eventually transform you into that guy that calls the cops whenever he hears someone else having a better time than himself. I don’t want to be that guy.

I’m tired of listening to Internet radio on my tiny computer speakers. Satellite radio sucks — it’s the box store of broadcasting devoid of local color and personality. And The River doesn’t count. Yes, the station is run by a college, but their programming is modeled after commercial goon rock/metal radio, not the College Music Journal (CMJ) or traditional college music.

God, how badly this town — this hub of the indie music work — needs a good college radio station that plays new, fresh, intelligent music from the CMJ charts. I’m tired of hearing how it’s not financially viable, how there is no audience for college music. We live in Indie Central, people. We as a city are known nationally for our indie music, and we can’t hear it on our airwaves. We can’t support a real college music station? For fuck’s sake, has anyone tried? When a far-sighted pioneer finally does take the plunge, the beneficiaries will be our venues, our music stores and all of our local bands who can’t get heard on the radio today. And, of course, this poor, aging music critic who ain’t too proud to beg.

What’s your favourite childhood memory?
Chris: Hangin’ out at Mel’s diner with Richie, Potsie, Ralph and Fonzie.
Ethan: My family had a creek/stream in our backyard when I was a kid. My younger brother and I practically lived there building forts and having a blast just being kids.

Ran into Roger Lewis on the phone the other day. He was getting ready to go to work at Homer’s. In addition to selling records, Roger also is the drummer for The Good Life, Neva Dinova and his new band, Artsy Golfer. The main topic of conversation: The upcoming three-day Eastern Nebraska tour for The Good Life, with starts tomorrow night at The Saddle Creek Bar before heading to Knickerbockers and finally closing out at Sokol Underground Saturday night.

Roger said he and the band are headed into the new Mogis studios in fun, funky Fairacres in January to craft “the perfect 10-song record” to be released in August. The Good Life, he said, is officially the first band to record at the new studio. Mike Mogis will produce and AJ may track and do some recording. “I’ve looked inside,” he said of the new studio space. “It’s really nice, kind of overwhelming. It’s one of the nicest studios I’ve ever seen.”

Fans will get a sneak-peak at the new Good Life material during the tour. “We’re gonna play a bunch of new songs the next three nights and mix in some old ones also,” Lewis said. “Practice has been an ordeal since right now we have so much work to do, trying to prepare 30 songs and get ready for the studio at the same time. It can be kind of nerve-wracking.”

Don’t expect a huge change in the band’s musical style. “I feel like this record is more organic. We’re trying not to have as many overdubs. It’ll just be the four of us creating music.” And it probably won’t be a concept album. “It’s just a collection of songs, that’s the vibe I’m getting now.”

The usual road work will follow the CD release. “Touring may not be as intense; we’ll support it the best we can,” Roger said. “It won’t be as it has in the past.”

That’s probably a good thing, since Lewis is knee deep in his other projects. Neva Dinova is slowly working on their next record. “We’ll record most of it ourselves,” Lewis said. “We’re taking time to learn how to do that.”

Then there’s Artsy Golfer, a new project with Ryan Fox, Steph Drootin and Alan Tanner (who also plays guitar for Maria Taylor). They had one of their first shows a couple weeks ago at Sokol Underground. “It went over really well. It kind of reminds me of an early ’90s rock band. We’re gonna try to work on that as much as possible, time permitting.”

So why three Good Life shows at three different venues? “The original idea was to do four shows in Council Bluffs to present the new songs,” Roger said. “Then we thought about doing one big show at Sokol upstairs, but we figured we’d have to put on a real show, so we nixed it and decided to go with the three shows. We’re calling it our Eastern Nebraska Tour. We’re printing up T-shirts and everything.”

* * *

Bright Eyes news exploded on the Web around lunch time yesterday when Billboard reported that Conor Oberst has decided to call the next full-length BE album Cassadaga. After the announcement, hundreds of Google searches ensued to try to figure out what the word means. Top of the list is the site for Cassadaga, Florida: “Known as ‘The Psychic Center of the World,’ Cassadaga continues today as the premiere psychic community and is home to some of America’s finest psychics.” Nice.

The new album, due out April 10, includes guest appearances by M. Ward, Gillian Welch and Janet Weiss (Sleater-Kinney, Quasi), and will be preceded by the six-song Four Winds EP, due out March 6. You can hear the first track from those sessions online at www.thisisbrighteyes.com. Starting in February, Oberst will be spending most of ’07 on tour. By the way, according to Billboard, Wide Awake and Digital Ash have, combined, sold more than 622,000 copies.

* * *

Tonight at O’Leaver’s is Mike Tulis’ Rock Movie Night, this month featuring Haack: King of Techno. More details here. Starts at 9:30 and it’s free.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

Three of the biggest shows of the year this past weekend and I made it to, well… none of them. I’m not losing interest folks, really. It’s the holidays and on top of everything else, I’m under ridiculous deadline pressure from The Reader, and then there’s the whole “buying presents” thing that still needs to be addressed (X-mas is one week from today, in case you were wondering). I would have loved to have seen Bright Eyes and Simon and The Faint and The Terminals this weekend, I even had passage worked out, but it just wasn’t happening. That, of course, didn’t stop you from going. I heard from a number of people that all the shows were nothing less than spectacular, but especially The Faint’s back-to-back shows, the band having brought in even more equipment to beef up their sound and visuals. They are, it seems, destined to become an arena band, the type of act whose concerts are events, spectator sports, life-altering experiences. Both The Faint and Bright Eyes are expected to explode on ’07, with new records and big tours in the making. We may not see them come through these parts again for a long time, which makes missing these shows all the more painful, but… you gotta do what you gotta do. I can almost guarantee I won’t be missing The Good Life this week, and you shouldn’t, either.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

Briefly… Tonight’s Bright Eyes gig has been sold out for a couple days now. Bright Eyes’ frontman Conor Oberst has put together an impressive backing band for the evening that includes Mike Mogis, Nate Walcott, and Maria Taylor and Orenda Fink — this will be one of the few times they’ve been on stage together since Azure Ray “went on hiatus” in the summer of 2005. The audience will get a sneak peek at songs from Bright Eyes’ forthcoming full-length, due out on Saddle Creek Records in April. Opening is The Bruces and Simon Joyner and the Fallen Men.

If you didn’t get tickets to tomorrow night’s Faint concert, at least you’ll be able to enjoy the opener tonight when The Terminals take the stage at O’Leaver’s with Spread Eagle. 9:30, $5.

That’s all for now!

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

Column 105: Hanging with the Cool Kids
Adam Weaver wants in.

This column is the result of a reader who took seriously my prodding to send in column ideas. Musician Adam Weaver wants to know:

“What does it mean to locally ‘make it’ in the Omaha music scene? I’m not talking about a record deal or anything, but at what point can you call a local artist an established and respected local artist? When you play Sokol? When you open for a nationally recognized and respected act? When you play a One Percent (Productions) show? When you’re featured in The Reader?

“And further,” the letter continued, “how does a band here in Omaha get legitimized without the blessing of One Percent, given that they’re pretty much the only show in town? Is it even possible? And if you don’t know any of the indie king-makers in town, and they don’t return your e-mails, what are your options as far as trying to get yourself heard?”

Good questions — questions that lots of bands have thought about over the years, but have never had the cojones to vocalize on the record. Weaver obviously feels like he’s been locked out of a scene with which he personally identifies, whether anyone else does or not.

A native of Gulf Port, Mississippi, Weaver moved to Omaha three-and-a-half years ago to pursue an internship for his graduate degree in psychology. He planned on moving to Nashville after graduation to connect with some music friends there. Instead, he’s still here, trying to land gigs at Sokol Underground and O’Leaver’s, with little luck.

I already know what you’re thinking: “Maybe, Adam, if you were any good you’d get the attention you deserve.” Not this time. After listening to Places We Were, Places We’re Not, the new CD by Weaver and his band, The Ghosts, it’s obvious that quality isn’t the issue. The disc is a collection of well-crafted — if somewhat somber — acoustic singer-songwriter stuff. In fact, it may be a bit too well-crafted. Produced over two sessions in a Nashville studio, the recording is slick, and Weaver’s voice is quite good. He doesn’t have the usual characteristic indie quirks — he doesn’t sing off-key, he doesn’t bray, he doesn’t shriek as if in pain. Weaver’s voice is radio-friendly. In fact, it’s downright mainstream. And that’s always been an unspoken no-no in the indie world.

Yes, you read that right — if your music sounds too well-produced or too “smooth,” it could very well be discounted by the indie set as being commercial, and hence, uncool. But that’s really not what differentiates indie music from what you hear on the radio.

Weaver, who wanted to make perfectly clear his comments aren’t sour grapes, clarified his viewpoint over the phone Sunday afternoon. He believes the line of music legitimacy in Omaha is drawn by Marc Leibowitz and Jim Johnson, the duo who book shows at venues around town under the One Percent Productions moniker.

“You can only go so far without getting them involved,” Weaver said. “I’m sure they didn’t get into this thinking, ‘We’re the guys that can make or break a band in this town.’ They try to promote the music they like. I’m not trying to give them a bad rap, but I can’t pretend that they don’t exist, either.”

Weaver also says that a band’s friends, political views and what they wear helps define them as “one of the cool kids.”

“Music is way down on the list as to how bands in that scene are identified,” he said. “There are bands that aren’t ‘One Percent bands’ that are just as good musically, but don’t get the attention or opportunities that those bands get.”

This is where Weaver and I part ways. I don’t think a dress code or a friendship network defines Omaha’s indie scene — not anymore. And certainly the scene isn’t defined by One Percent Productions, who are just as quick to book a teen-angst screamo-metal goon band as a Creek band if it means putting butts in seats. They are businessmen, after all.

There is, however, an indefinable quality that characterizes our indie music scene. I wish I could tell Adam what it is. All’s I know is I know it when I see it (or hear it). I’m not sure why Weaver feels that he needs to be part of that scene, anyway. We’re living in new times, when an affiliation to Saddle Creek no longer is a prerequisite for local or national success. Just ask Eagle*Seagull or Emphatic or Little Brazil.

“What is indie? Is it a sound or a frame of mind or a business model?” Weaver asked. “To me, a good song writer is a good song writer, whether you’re cool or not. If anything, my band has a hard time identifying if we’re indie or folk or pop or cool. I guess it doesn’t really matter. If you have good songs, you’ll always get your foot in the door.”

Adam, I think you answered your own question.

— Not much today. Seems like every “year in review” list is due this week, which puts me behind desperately trying to remember what music was good this year. It was, in fact, an off year for indie (and music in general). What’s it all mean? To find out you’ll have to wait for the annual Lazy-i Year in Review story, which will go online next week.

— Former Omahans now Portlandites Eux Autres wrote to say that they’ve got a new Christmas song online that warmly reminisces about coming home for the holidays. The track is significant in that, unlike 99 percent of holiday songs by rock bands, this one is actually pretty good. Called “Another Christmas at Home,” one can only imagine that the line referring to a tavern “where the Champaign’s on tap” refers to The Homy Inn, where Cold Duck has flowed like an unbreakable urine stream for as long as I remember. You can check out the mp3 file here, or go to their Myspace page.

— Did you realize that the Grammy nominations were announced last Thursday? Does anyone care anymore? Glancing at the list, I can see reason for apathy. Just take a look at that “Album of the Year” category: Dixie Chicks (will win), Gnarls Barkley (should win), John Mayer, Red Hot Chili Peppers (someone, please, put these guys out of the misery), and Justin Timberlake — uninspiring to say the least, but what else is new? In the “Best Alternative Music Album” category you got Arctic Monkeys (flash in the pans), The Flaming Lips (getting old, real old), Gnarls Barkley (hipster favorites), Yeah Yeah Yeahs (weak followup to their debut), and Thom Yorke (*yawn*). What are these supposed to be alternatives to? Remember when The Grammy’s meant something to someone other than music retailers?

— What else? Lots of shows the rest of the week, starting tomorrow with Little Brazil, then Bright Eyes, two Terminals performances and two Faint concerts. I should be exhausted by Monday. Look here tomorrow for this week’s column, where courageous singer-songwriter Adam Weaver asks: “What does it mean to locally ‘make it’ in the Omaha music scene?” Oh boy…

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

Catching up with the weekend, a few over 50 were on hand for 4th of July/Danny Pound Band at The Saddle Creek Bar Saturday night. 4th of July, a 6-piece who, along with DPB, are from Lawrence, played a ballsy set of roots rock that reminded me of The Reivers (sort of). They’ll be opening for The Faint Sunday night along with Tilly & the Wall, which should be an interesting clash of styles. The band includes Adrianne Verhoeven of Art Bell (Orenda Fink’s new band… connect the dots), though I was surprised that she mostly sang harmonies, leaving the vocal heavy lifting to frontman Brendan Hangauer. Danny Pound announced from stage that it was his 33rd birthday (after midnight) and was treated to shots and beers and a nice round of applause. DPB is a straight-forward roots rock band (is that what we call alt country these days?) with distinctive indie overtones fueled by Pound’s muscular songwriting chops. Clever lyrics, clever melodies, laid-back style, very cool indeed. Unfortunately, there was no reprise of early Vitreous Humor material — I guess Danny didn’t read the article! (just kidding). The always-changing sound system at SCB continues to improve. Whatever problems they had with the vocals in the PA seem to be fixed — no more tinty hollow sound. Regardless, owner Mike Coldeway says he and his sound guy will continue to tweak the system, adding some new equipment before the big Good Life show there Dec. 21. Bottom line — no matter what they do there’s going to be someone who complains about their sound, just like there have been complaints about The 49’r and O’Leaver’s PAs for as long as I can remember. Only Sokol Underground goes unscathed (and deservedly so).

Speaking of The Faint, both shows this weekend are now sold out, according to the One Percent Productions website. Scanning through the Internweb, I found this here review of their Dec. 2 show at The Showbox in Seattle. I had no idea that the tour was being sponsored by Camel cigarettes. From the review: “It’s Saturday night at the Showbox and the whole place has been turned into a showroom for Camel cigarettes. They missed the memo about the smoking ban and have redecorated with glowing backlit signs, stand-up displays with freebies, and projections on the wall complete with requisite warnings from the Surgeon General. In the upstairs bar, the seating area has been transformed to a V.I.P. lounge with walls of LCD televisions broadcasting sexy scenes of the joys of smoking.” Wonder if we’ll get the same treatment at Sokol Auditorium. In addition to The Faint’s usual sexy aerobics soundtrack, expect to hear at least four new songs from their upcoming follow-up to 2004’s Wet from Birth, including “The Geeks Were Right,” a performance of which has found its way onto YouTube (check it out here).

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

There’s one thing to be said about arena concerts. They’re punctual. The Pretenders started right at the stroke of 7:30, just like it said on the ticket. We shouldered our way through the crowd trying to find our seats as The Pretenders dug in with opener “The Wait.” I really need to learn how to buy tickets to Qwest shows. I thought we would be sitting along the edge of the first balcony, plenty high over the crowd, looking down over the stage. Instead, the 75-year-old usher pointed us to the very bottom row, essentially a step up from the floor seats. I hate floor seats because people stand up the entire time, which means you have to stand up, too. And since our seats were basically floor seats, that meant we’d have to stand up all night, or at least for The Who portion of the show.

No one stood up during The Pretenders set even though Chrissie Hynde and her band probably sounded no different then they did during their ’80s heyday. Wearing a crazy top-hat, elbow gloves and leg warmers, the 55-year-old Hynde tore through a set of the usual oldies, songs whose names I don’t know because I was never much of a Pretenders fan. The only time the crowd got into it was during “My City Was Gone,” where a few folks did a modified bump-and-grind in their seats. Thankfully, it was hard to see with the lights out, the only thing illuminating the arena was the stage and a giant “Pirate Radio” skull-and-crossbones logo that hung over the stage.

The Prentenders played for just under an hour and did no encore. When the lights came up I finally got a look at the crowd. Just about every seat was filled (the upper tier had been curtained off), and I realized I was in the presence of the hippy culture. Not the lazy slobs and college kids who drive around the country following Phish or Widespread Panic — these were real hippies, the original hippies, the pot-baked, acid-caked youth of the ’60s who remember listening to “I Can See for Miles” while driving to a commune in a peace-sign-festooned VW Microbus. Those peace signs are long gone now, replaced with tacky yellow ribbon car magnets; the microbuses replaced with Lexi. The hippies have been transformed into bankers and principals and aging soccer coaches that would look just as home at a Bluejays home game. Sure, there were a few of them who had kept up their hippy charisma, but somewhere along the way, hippy chic had turned into biker chic, complete with leather vests and Sturgis T-shirts. Then there was the infirm. This might be the first concert I’ve been to where paramedics rushed an aged fan away in a wheel chair while an old lady with an eye-patch looked on, concerned. Unlike the typical indie show, we were easily among the youngest 20 percent of the audience. Nice!

And so, at around 8, The Who finally took the stage — and what an elaborate stage it was. Like any typical arena show these days, huge screens were placed above the stage to allow fans in the back to get a good look at Roger Daltrey’s bloated, sweaty face. Roger struggled the entire evening. After the first song, my partner in crime turned to me and said, “He sounds horrible,” but I knew he hadn’t lost his pipes because he sounded fine on their new record (though they can do wonders in the studio these days). It was after the fourth song that Pete Townshend told the crowd that Roger was suffering with a horrible cold, but “would do his best to get through it.”

“It’ll better as we go,” Roger said.

But it never really did. You could hear the layers of mucus in Daltrey’s throat bubble up in a hoarse cackle during the first line of every song. High notes were completely out of the question, as were Daltrey’s signature screams (though he managed to pull one off during the peak of “Baba O’Riley”). Meanwhile, Townshend never looked, sounded or performed better. He may be one of the more under-appreciated guitarists in rock history, especially considering what I saw last night — just some amazing stuff, complete with his trademark windmill riffing.

It’s no surprise that the crowd preferred hearing the old classics vs. songs off Endless Wire. The band knew this, though they played just about every song off the record, including a rushed, medley version of “Wire & Glass,” the CD’s “mini-opera.” The crowd was respectful, if patient, often sitting down during unfamiliar songs, only to stand up again when they heard the chiming opening chords of another classic. It’s easy to forget just how big The Who’s repertoire is until you consider the songs that they didn’t play over the course of the two-hour concert. Among the missing were “Squeeze Box,” “Magic Bus,” “Long Live Rock,” and “I Can See for Miles.” But all the really big ones were there, “My Generation,” “Behind Blue Eyes,” “You Better You Bet,” “Eminence Front,” “Who Are You,” “Won’t Get Fooled Again,” “My Generation,” and opener “I Can’t Explain.” Throughout the set, five large movable screens presented a variety of edgy support graphics. Sometimes they were set up in an unbroken chain end-to-end to providing pano-like images. Other times they were broken up, each showing a different image, while the large screens above the stage focused on Daltrey or Townshend or the rest of the band, which, by the way, was pretty good. I’m sure die-hard fans think Entwhistle is irreplaceable, but Pino Palladino did just fine. The drummer, Ringo Starr’s son Zak Starkey, however, was no Keith Moon, (though he wore a striped T-shirt just like Keith’s). And though Who concerts are legendary for being ultra LOUD, this one wasn’t. Ear plugs seemed unnecessary. Maybe the band (and especially Townscend) realize that the crowd has out-grown teeth-rattling performances.

After about an hour and a half, the band left the stage, only to return for an encore that included a medley of songs from Tommy, Daltrey gasping to get through “Pinball Wizard,” while Townshend absolutely shined on a raucous version of “Underture” that was the night’s highlight. It was definitely worth the price of admission, though I couldn’t help but wonder how much better it would have been had Daltrey been in better shape…

* * *

The weekend’s looking this way:

— Tonight at O’Leaver’s, Darren Keen takes the stage with Talkin Mountain and Family Unit. $5, 9:30 p.m.

— Saturday night is Danny Pound Band with 4th of July at The Saddle Creek Bar. $5, 9 p.m. Meanwhile, down at O’Leaver’s its Outlaw Con Bandana with Black Squirrels and Kickass Tarantulas.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—