I’ve had a subscription to Magnet for a long time. Over the years, I’ve also subscribed to Option, Rolling Stone, SPIN, Volume, CMJ, Alternative Press, The Big Takeover, Raygun and a few others that slip my mind at the moment. The only two I still get at home are RS and Magnet. Like the sampler, Magnet also is beginning to outlive its usefulness, thanks to the Internet. But I’ll keep my subscription as long as they keep printing it…

Column 181: Audio Polarity
Remembering the glory days of the Magnet sampler.

It’s been a slow week with little to report so humor me for a few moments as I rasp romantically on the past and point out yet another way that discovering new music has changed forever, thanks to the Internet.

The journey up to the family farm in Fort Calhoun is 20 minutes of over-hill-and-dell driving. For the trip this past Independence Day, I brought along a CD that arrived in the mail the prior day with the latest copy of Magnet magazine.

Magnet, for those of you who aren’t obsessed with college music, used to be the bible of indie rock, the arbiter of all things good in the indie music world, a saddle-stitched signpost that revealed the latest and greatest music that you’d never get a chance to hear on your radio if you lived in a backwards town like Omaha, where the only thing on the FM dial is Freedom Rock and screamo goon metal.

Magnet was the Pitchfork of the late ’90s. Getting into the pages of Magnet was like getting into Rolling Stone. Actually, if you were in an indie band, it was even better, because people who read Rolling Stone could give two shits about indie music. Magnet readers, however, were the laser-targeted demographic of every indie band. A good review in Magnet meant CD sales. A feature in Magnet meant you probably were already a well-established band that had toured the U.S. a couple times. Making the cover of Magnet put you on the same league as Elliott Smith, Guided by Voices and PJ Harvey — the next step was either signing to a major label or breaking up (or going solo).

Like the College Music Journal and the pre-metal version of Alternative Press, Magnet began to mail free sampler CDs to its subscribers, adding real-life Technicolor to their reading material. Look, you can describe music all you want, but no written word can capture the actual audio experience. And back in the ’90s, getting a free CD was big deal, a substantial bonus. My how things have changed.

The first Magnet sampler was issued sometime around 1996 or ’97. I’m not sure of the exact date because there’s no date on the generic cardboard CD sleeve which I hold in my hand. Glancing at the band list is a head-jerk trip back through time. Vol. 1 included Knapsack, Cranes, Ex-Action Figures, Danielson Family, Dots Will Echo and Number One Cup. Things got even better with Vol. 2, which came out a month or so later: Walt Mink, Beth Orton, Novocaine and a little-known Omaha band by the name of Commander Venus — the track, “Jeans TV,” also was the opener for their one and only full-length, Uneventful Vacation, released not on Saddle Creek Records, but on Thick Records. Inclusion of the track on the Magnet sampler was probably the band’s biggest exposure to that point.

It was through Magnet sampler CDs that I discovered artists like The Wrens (“Pretty OK” from Vol. 4), Caustic Resin (“Once and Only” from Vol. 5), Eels (“Last Stop: This Town” from Vol. 5), Cobra Verde (“One Step Away from Myself” from Vol. 8) and Pinback (“Tripoli” from Vol. 10). Where else were you going to hear bands like Radar Bros. (“Open Ocean Sailing” from Vol. 9) and Enon (“Believo!” from Vol. 10)?

Sure, there were plenty of duds on each volume. But it wasn’t as if the editors of Magnet were painstakingly selecting the tracks themselves. Labels paid to have their bands included on the sampler, and it wasn’t cheap. But it was an effective way to get your band heard before they climbed into the van and hit the road. So for every Tom Waits (“Chocolate Jesus”) and Friends of Dean Martinez (“Ethchlorvynol”) there were duds by Marky Ramone and the Intruders, The Fly Seville and Garmarna. It didn’t matter. You made a note of the best songs, and then checked to see if The Antiquarium or Drastic Plastic had a copy of the full length. In my case, I used my computer to send something called an “e-mail” to the label, and lo and behold, they usually sent back a promo copy. Being a music critic had its privileges.

I know what you’re thinking — the Internet was very much alive in 1998 (in fact, ’98 was the year that I launched Lazy-i.com). But bands and labels had yet to fully embrace the technology. There was no such thing as MySpace. Today, there’s too much MySpace. Free music doesn’t mean anything to anyone anymore, and bands and labels certainly don’t need to look toward old-fangled technology like a compilation CD to get their music heard. Or do they?

As we drove through Washington County last Friday, we listened to Magnet New Music Sampler Vol. 49, with Teresa giving thumbs up or thumbs down as we skipped through forgetful tracks by Victorian Halls, The Fervor, Rachael Sage, Hopeless, Mr. Gnome and 15 other bands I’ll never hear again. Teresa’s thumb stayed firmly pointed in the downward direction.

Except for track No. 10, a quiet, clever folk song by a band with the unfortunate name of The Boy Bathing called “The Questions Simple.” We went back and listened to the song again. It was pretty good. The next day I went online to find out more about the band and listened to a few songs on their MySpace page. And I thought to myself, how else would I ever have found these guys? Not by aimlessly clicking through millions of MySpace pages. Certainly, not on my radio. In an era when free music has become the norm, the sampler CD — as a medium — still has a few years left in it. Let’s hope the same can be said for publications like Magnet.

You may or may not have heard that The Good Life is opening for Feist at this Saturday’s concert in Memorial Park, which I predict will have a higher attendance than normal due to the storm that wiped out the .38 Special/Kool and the Gang concert a couple weeks ago. People who would have never gone to this will just to get their fix of free outdoor entertainment. The Good Life also will be playing a warm-up show at The Barley St. Tavern the evening before the park show. Barley St. has a capacity of, what, around 75? Expect this $5 show to sell out quick. You can get your tix here, for now. Unfortunately, it’s the same night as the Son Ambulance CD release show at Slowdown Jr. More on that show tomorrow…

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

My only comment about last weekend: The Song Remains the Same needs to lose the Beatles/Aerosmith interlude in “Communication Breakdown.” Go ahead and keep “War Pigs” though. There seemed to be mild concern among TWR staff when it became obvious that the band wasn’t going to get through their last-song medley before 1 a.m. The new sound guy ran up and told Weber-Page that they had to stop. They somehow managed to get through it all without Jim pulling the plug…

Glancing at the coming week. There’s an early in-store show tonight at The Antiquarium Record Store featuring cosmic S.F. headtrip rockers Sic Alps (Siltbreeze), Iowa City experimental noise band Wet Hair, Omaha screech-punkers Yuppies and Mr. Wizard. Show starts at 7 and you’re asked to drop some cash into the hat for the touring acts.

Wednesday The Waiting Room has This World Fair, a Minneapolis indie band that’s clearly targeting a major-label alt rock career. Their claim to fame is a song on the Disturbia soundtrack. Opening is Barcelona. No, not the Arlington, Virginia, New Wave band who recorded such classics as “The Downside of Computer Camp,” “I Have the Password to Your Shell Account,” and “Studio Hair Gel.” That band broke up in 2001. This Barcelona is from Seattle and sounds like another run-of-the-mill alt rock band. Too bad. Comedian Todd Barry is at Slowdown Wednesday, and while I don’t go to stand-up gigs, I applaud Slowdown for trying it out. Are rock clubs the comedy shops of this generation?

Thursday is coming together shaping up nicely…

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

I don’t know nuthin’ ’bout booking no nightclubs, but I always think it’s odd that there rarely are any shows booked on the night of holidays that are followed by day’s off. Tonight is a typical example. It’s a Friday night, most of us have had the day off and have tomorrow off, too. Sure, we’ll be bushed from lighting off all those fireworks and drinking all that beer, but that wouldn’t stop us from seeing a show at one of our favorite nightspots (after we’ve made sure no stray skyrockets have landed on the roof and caught the house on fire). And yet, tonight there are no shows going on anywhere. Why isn’t Ladyfinger — a band named after a firecracker — at least playing a gig at O’Leaver’s? Instead, nothing.

Well, I guess we’ll have to wait until tomorrow night, when Satchel Grande and The Song Remains the Same light up The Waiting Room (9 p.m., $7) or The Whipkey Three and Brad Hoshaw play at Mick’s ($5, 9 p.m.).

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

Catching up with the Internet:

Billboard reports (here) that Conor Oberst will be recording a collaborative album with Jim James and M. Ward sometime in the near future. Wonder who’s going to put it out?

* * *

Pitchfork weighed in on the new Son, Ambulance album. You guessed it — they didn’t like it. Rating: 5.4 — consistent with just about every other Saddle Creek release Pitchfork has reviewed over the past few years. Oh well. Read it here, and go ahead and skip the review’s obtuse, poorly written first paragraph.

* * *

Newsweek has a great interview with Billy Corgan about the nature of rock stars and the lack of them these days. I was never a big Smashing Pumpkins fan. Corgan’s voice is what Carol Channing would sound like if she were a man — shrill and annoying. But you can’t deny some of his more catchy stuff (“1979” “Drown,” “Tonight, Tonight” come to mind). Or the fact that Corgan is one smart sumbitch.

Excerpts:

On the next icon: “What we’re going to see now is a different archetype rise up. It’s not going to be the Elvis archetype; it’s going to be something we can’t even imagine. It’s going to be someone, maybe, who’s more spiritual, somebody who doesn’t want anything to do with corporate industry. Somebody who’s an Internet star. Some kid who makes tapes in his bedroom and says, ‘F—the world. This is my version of it.’ And then people will latch on. All the music factories in the world can’t manufacture that kid.”

On culture: “When everything is everybody’s, then nobody owns anything. This culture, I don’t think, values the song. It doesn’t value the icon. It values the moment and whoever feeds that moment. But we lose that it’s human beings creating the moment. And when the culture thinks that it’s the puppet master, then, of course, why wouldn’t you have ‘American Idol?'”

Read the whole thing here.

* * *

Speaking of icons, tonight at Slowdown, ’90s icon Black Francis a.k.a. Frank Black plays the big stage. Opener is Omaha icon Brad Hoshaw. 9 p.m. $15. Also, at The Waiting Room, it’s the return of Stillwater, Okla., band Colourmusic (you remember, they opened for British Sea Power back in March). Opening is Oui Bandits. $7, 9 p.m.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

You can read the SPIN feature here (see page 118).

Column 180: Omaha Spin
Another national looks at our scene.

It’s been a while since I’ve been able to say this, but the Omaha music scene has made it into the pages of a national magazine (again). This time it’s the July issue of SPIN, in the form of the rag’s monthly “Rock City” feature.

Rock City highlights a different town’s music scene every issue by compiling its Local Heroes, Bars and Clubs, History and Bands in a two-page spread tucked away in the back. The Omaha version of Rock City, written and reported by former Reader editor Tessa (We miss you) Jeffers broke it down this way:

In the Local Heroes section, Simon Joyner (troubadour/genius), Marc Leibowitz & Jim Johnson (1% Productions), Robb Nansel and Mike Mogis (Saddle Creek/ARC Studios), Lallaya and Trey Lalley (The Brothers, Capitol Bar & Grill) and true godfather of the Omaha music scene, Dave Sink, were the subjects.

Under Bars and Clubs, the once-active now-fading Sokol properties got the money shot, followed by The Waiting Room, Slowdown, O’Leaver’s and Barley Street Tavern. In the History category, Tessa wrote about the late, great Cog Factory, the Wal-Mart-ed Ranch Bowl and Omaha’s historic jazz scene, while the featured bands included Tilly and the Wall, The Show Is the Rainbow, Outlaw Con Bandana, Sarah Benck and The Robbers and Ladyfinger (NE).

It’s a terrific article — a serious, accurate summation of Omaha music’s highlights and little-known gems. But what really made this feature stand out among the dozens of “gee whiz, ain’t Omaha cool” articles that have appeared in pubs like The New York Times, Filter and Time is how it mentions people, places and things that reside outside of the usual Saddle Creek scene-o-sphere (despite the fact that the article’s “tour guides” were Tilly and the Wall’s Neely Jenkins and Jamie Pressnall, who, though not on Saddle Creek, fall into the Creek classification by default since they’re on Conor Oberst’s Team Love label).

Now here’s a back story behind the article. SPIN editor David Marchese originally approached little ol’ me to put this piece together. He apparently found me by stumbling upon my website, Lazy-i.com. E-mail was exchanged. Eventually I sent an outline, which either was never received or (more likely) was rejected, as weeks and weeks went by without a response. Eventually Tessa told me she got the gig, which was a good thing since she did a much better job than I ever could.

So what did I propose to SPIN? Under the Local Heroes category, which Marchese said should focus on “non-musicians who are integral to the city’s music scene” I suggested Sink and the guys from 1 Percent and Creek, but also included Homer’s Records President Mike Fratt and 89.7 The River’s Sophia John.

Marchese said featured bands shouldn’t be well known outside Omaha. “Bright Eyes is a no-no. If possible, a mix of different styles is good here… shouldn’t be five earnest indie rockers.” I figured Tilly also was a no-no — they’ve been on Letterman, after all. My list:

— Eagle*Seagull. “Actually, it’s a Lincoln band, which would disqualify them if we’re only considering Omaha. They play here all the time, however.”
— The Terminals — “A garage-punk band, their last album came out on Dead Beat Records.”
— Capgun Coup — “Recently signed with Oberst’s Team Love label. Touring all over the country. Has ‘next big thing’ status.”
— Brad Hoshaw — “Under-the-radar acoustic singer/songwriter.”
— The Monroes — “A self-described ‘tractor punk’ band.”
— Honeybee — “A female-fronted indie five-piece, on upstart Slumber Party Records (distro by Saddle Creek).”
— The Whipkey Three — “A twangy Americana band.”

Sarah Benck and the Robbers and The Show Is the Rainbow were the only two Tessa and I had in common.

History, Marchese said, should include “some interesting pieces of local music lore.” As an example, he cited Rock City Toronto, where the writer talked about the El Mocambo rock club where the Stones played a secret show recorded for a live album. Like Tessa, I suggested The Cog Factory (how could you not?), but also included The Farnam House.

“This small apartment building was home of Omaha’s mid-’80s era punk scene, and hosted shows by Millions of Dead Cops, The Adolescents and a variety of Omaha punk bands,” I explained. “In the late-’90s, the house became Gunboat/The Jerk Store and was the home to Conor Oberst (Bright Eyes), Clark Baechle (The Faint) and a handful of other Creek bands, who hosted regular house shows. Today, the house is known as Hotel Frank and is the indie scene’s central house-show venue for traveling and local bands, including Capgun Coup and Flowers Forever. Gentrification could force it to stop hosting shows in the very near future.”

Some young millionaire needs to buy the Farnam House and declare it a local landmark and safe haven for up-and-coming musicians. Conor, are you listening?

I also suggested The Lifticket Lounge, saying it “was a central Omaha club that hosted, among others, Nirvana (circa Bleach), Soundgarden and a ton of other national grunge and punk acts. It closed later in the ’90s and became a biker bar. It reopened last year as The Waiting Room, a primary music venue.”

Finally, for Bars and Clubs, Marchese asked for “places you might catch some of the bands you mentioned.”

Along with Slowdown, TWR, O’Leaver’s and Sokol, I added The Brothers (“Not a live music venue, but the center point for everyone involved in the local music scene”) and Mick’s (“Acoustic / folk venue, also located in Benson”).

Tessa and I could have suggested a dozen more in every category. But the problem with these “list” stories is that, inevitably, something or someone misses the cut. Ironically, this time the bands that got left out are the ones our scene is known for. Something tells me, considering all the press they’ve received over the years, that they won’t mind.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

Some random notes…

Tonight at The Waiting Room it’s Maria Taylor with Johnathan Rice and Nik Freitas — one of the best line-ups I’ve seen in a while. And for just $9. I’m surprised it hasn’t sold out (yet). Starts at 9 p.m.

The Omaha Arts and Entertainment Awards — or the OEA’s — have announced the bands for their July 18 showcase. Judging by the list, they’ve either moved away from indie music or indie bands decided not to register for the showcase. Midwest Dilemma and Sleep Said the Monster are the only two indie acts I recognize on the list. Take a look.

Finally, The Boston Phoenix has published its inaugural 50 bands/50 states list, where they select each state’s all-time best band, best solo artist and best new band. For Nebraska, Bright Eyes was named all-time best band, Elliott Smith (yes, he was born in Nebraska) was named best solo artist and Tilly and the Wall took best new band honors. The first question that came to mind upon seeing this: Who cares who The Boston Phoenix thinks is the best band in Nebraska? I guess it’s time for The Reader to come out with its list of the best all-time bands in 50 states, too. Anyway, see the entire state-by-state list here.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

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.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

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.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

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.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

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.

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