http://www.ilike.com/artist/The+Jesus+Lizard/track/Nub

This is a showcase for the rhythm section; drummer Mac McNeilly and bassist David Wm. Sims, create a thick, foreboding groove for Duane Denison to lay down his seething guitar slides… and the vocals of David Yow, which have always resembled the rantings of that sketchy, homeless guy with whom you inevitably share the last subway car. As a widescreen, Morricone-on-PCP riff, this is obviously a chase movie, probably across the barren scrubland of West Texas, but also a revenge fantasy. A nasty piece of business, as the Brits are fond of saying.

Kim Deal would be the ultimate party hostess. Even when I first saw the Pixies start their slow, angry unravelling back in 1991, she always carried herself with unflagging grace and good humor.

Although I prefer Come On Pilgrim or Surfer Rosa, Doolittle has a depth that I had forgotten about. There are some hidden gems contained in that stretch between “Monkey Gone to Heaven” and “Gouge Away”.

This truly felt like a final farewell for the Pixies. By the end of the final encore you could feel a palpable sense of gratitude mixed with equal parts exhaustion.

Now that he has chops, Malkmus can extend those solos that were originally sloppy and minimalist into Neil Youngian jams. That’s right, Youngian.

I’m aware there’s a sizable percentage that find Bob Nastanovich’s schtick a little tired but I still think he’s one of the most entertaining people I’ve ever seen on a stage. Then again, I’ve always had an appreciation for the human metronome.

Interesting that Tobin Sprout was allocated almost three times the songs as Spiral Stairs. I have no real opinion as I’m genuinely a fan of both. Just found it interesting.

Everyone gets older and wiser. With maybe the exception of Mitch Mitchell.

I was shocked at how many people could sing along, verse-by-verse, the early GBV stuff. There’s a certain odd charm to hearing, “For the dreams of the Weed King we all sing!” emanate from a crowd of aging hipsters.

“Don’t Stop Now” actually will jerk a tear to your eye.

In the late spring of 2008, following the recording of Lookout Mountain Lookout Sea, David and I discussed the prospect of a video for the album’s leadoff track What Is Not But Could Be If. Encouraged by our dialogue, I drafted a rough treatment while the band toured Europe (not to be confused with the 2006 tour documented in the underrated Michael Tully film Silver Jew) but, by the time they returned, it became clear interest was waning. He described the collaborative method that he and Brent Stewart used to create the videos for How Can I Love You If You Won’t Lie Down and Sleeping is the Only Love: David would create a list of locations and props, they’d shoot scenes involving those locations and props, Stewart would then edit the video and submit to David for final approval. It was a simple, effective workflow and created an oddly warm, almost home movie aesthetic that I’ve finally come to realize is subversively profound. I was game to give it a shot but David really didn’t have the desire to establish a collaborative relationship from scratch, not to mention the twin facts that the band was preparing for the American leg of their tour and my wife and I were packing all our belongings and preparing for a move to Austin.

Several months later, just before what would become the Joo’s final show at the Cumberland Caverns in Tennessee, it became clear his attention had drifted to things that had nothing to do with music. On January 22, 2009, he made an announcement on the Drag City message boards that he was retiring from music. What shocked pretty much everyone, indie rock fan and political junkie alike, was the reason: he felt a need to spend his time actively working against his father, Richard Berman, a Washington lobbyist who specializes in setting up advocacy non-profit groups to advance the interests of processed food and booze industries and union-busting corporations. That’s right, a full-on Shakespearean/”Empire Strikes Back”/insert-cliche-here father vs. son throwdown. To that end, David’s currently working on a documentary about his notorious dad and recently spoke at NYU’s Open City Summer Workshop about our current propaganda state, one in which the elder Berman is a key player. And while I have little doubt we could’ve made a superb music video, I concede that events continue to fall into place that require some serious attention. Like I said, time (or maybe times) is (are) fraught with disappointment and chaos.

Free Energy – Paul Sprangers and Scott Wells were in a previous band named Hockey Night, recording songs that sounded like Slanted & Enchanted B-Sides (not an insult). With Free Energy, they’ve clearly infused a whole Adidas duffle bag full of seventies swagger and boogie into the proceedings. Maybe Malkmus should take note.

Carolina Chocolate Drops – A traditional string-band band from Durham. I’m talking banjo-fiddle-kazoo-bones-whiskey-jug traditional. Anything that drives hipsters away, puzzled expressions plastered on faces, is just fine by me.

Okkervil River and Rocky Erickson – Their album isn’t coming out until April but, if the set they performed on Wednesday at the Paste Party is any indication, it’s an inspired and unique collaboration, with Will Sheff and Rocky sharing vocals on new stuff as well as “Two Headed Dog” and “I Walked with a Zombie”.

Miles Kurosky – I knew very little about Beulah when they were around and now I feel like an uninformed moron with no taste. I will now track down The Desert of Shallow Effects and begin to work my way backward. I suggest you do the same.

Japandroids and No Age – One of the unfortunate truisms about working the day show circuit is that you’ll often find yourself in a venue that doesn’t comfortably fit the act. Standing up in your booth, catching furtive glimpses of Randy Randall and Dean Allen Spunt’s head at the tiny, Arab-themed Red Fez provided a perfect example of that principle. I also caught a glimpse of David Prowse’s head once or twice. All said, it did sound fantastic.

Surfer Blood – I’m far from the hippest cat in the room, but I thought it was odd how many people were talking about Surfer Blood as the “breakout” band of this year. With “Swim” last year, didn’t they arrive already… uh, “broken out”.

Superchunk – My personal highlight, but that’s purely because I’m becoming a decrepit, old geezer. Brought back fond memories of seeing them back in ’92 at the Safari Club in Danbury, CT. When it’s all said and done, “Slack Motherfucker” may become indie rock’s “Freebird”.

The xx – It’s a harsh draw to follow Superchunk’s set, especially when your music works as more of a slow, roiling simmer than an all-out boil-over, and I will come clean to having preconceptions after disliking their debut LP last year, but I really put some effort into liking The xx, I really did. How about this: I didn’t hate them as much live as I do recorded. That’s something.

Sadly, I missed Cymbals Eat Guitars, an apparently awesome and somewhat emotional Auditorium Shores show by Cheap Trick, and the scheduled Big Star gig at Antone’s that became a sad yet joyous tribute to Alex Chilton. Rest in peace, El Goodo.

Moral Crux recently had four albums remastered and re-released through Jailhouse! Records, one of which is their self-titled debut, as apt and vital a document of 80′s suburban punk ennui as you will find. In other words, this it is not.

Tobin Sprout has just finished recording another album under the name Bevel Web and released a beautifully surreal children’s book (!) which he wrote and illustrated.

Lesion released their most recent CD Seniors Ball last Halloween (naturally) and DVDs of all their movies have been reissued. Having seen most of these films I can attest to the psychosexual side effects.

Of course, anyone who’s read my semi-coherent ramblings already knows that Drinking In The Moonlight by New Radiant Storm King dropped last fall, but this spring they had a previously unreleased track included on Darla’s 16th anniversary compilation… and, yes, it rocks.

Some welcome good news. Who says the Interwebs is only good for celebrity death hoaxes?