Rock Picks: Supersuckers, Bloc Party, Melvins

Supersuckers at the Viper Room

If the bubonic grunge from Seattle wreaked havoc on bands everywhere, there’s one group of shitkickers that had immunity. Originally from Tucson, the Supersuckers even found success in Seattle — and on Sub Pop, no less. Maybe it’s because Eddie Spaghetti and company take their cues from rockabilly, garage-punk and boogie; styles that can’t be smothered by the weight of flannel. Though they were embraced by the grunge movement (Eddie Vedder in particular), it’s people like Steve Earle and Willie Nelson that they really dig, and their move into country had them fitting in perfectly at this year’s Farm Aid. With a new album due in early 2008, the Supersuckers come to the Viper room for three nights starting tonight with a “rock” show, tomorrow night with a “country” show, and a “mixed” show on New Year’s Eve, where you just may walk away believing they’re the Greatest Rock ’n’ Roll Band in the World. (Daniel Siwek)

Jake Shimabukuro rocks his mighty uke.

Dirty white boys: Captain Ahab (PHOTO BY RENATA RAKSHA)

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More About

• David Cotner
• Hank Williams III
• Kevin Shields
• Hip-Hop and Rap
• Knitting

SUNDAY, Dec. 30

Dirty white boys: Captain Ahab (PHOTO BY RENATA RAKSHA)
(Click to enlarge)

The Psychedelic Furs at the Key Club

There’s nothing remotely furry or particularly psychedelic about ’80s college radio faves the Psychedelic Furs. In fact, despite John Ashton’s meteorite showers of effected guitar and some downright perky keys, these much-covered (by everyone from Korn to the Polyphonic Spree) Brits are among the most sonically lonesome of the mainstream post-punk pack. Bowie-indebted singer Richard Butler remains an all-eyes-on-me, shapes-pulling icon with a peerless nicotine timbre that has listeners clearing their throats, while his bro’ Tim long ago cornered the market in no-note-wasted bass functionality. Though best known for their 1986 rerecording of 1981’s “Pretty in Pink” (for the soundtrack of the John Hughes movie inspired by their original), that radio-friendly flirtation cost them: Donning leather pants and matching pink guitars, they briefly became an embarrassing sub–Duran Duran. Their core trio intact, the Furs are most effective when at their most desperate: “Only You and I” and “Sister Europe” can still stain the brain for hours. (Paul Rogers)

Lil’ Mama at Gibson Amphitheatre

Don’t front: The cool kids usually come from New York. And barring some essential pockets (Southern and Californian), so do the best rappers. Hip-hop demands contributions from people who grew up walking around the city, picking up the cadences and rhythms of borough-based vernaculars. Niatia Kirkland, a.k.a. Lil’ Mama, is a teenage product of NYC, and her giant hit “Lip Gloss” is a shivery bit of spit that suggests a relevant new player — anthemic and juvenile, sharp and spare, all pounded-out beats and unusually clever lyrics. Likewise, her remix for “Girlfriend” handily humiliates the undertalented Avril Lavigne. With her creative confidence and precocious sense of absurdity, Lil’ Mama may be the brightest hope for women in hip-hop (that non-heads will listen to). The force is strong in this one — and not hypersexualized, tacky or obvious. (Kate Carraway)

Jake Shimabukuro at the Knitting Factory

When all is seemingly lost, the sound of the itsy-bitsy ukulele can make everything somewhat bearable — in Jake Shimabukuro’s nimble hands, that is. The young uke virtuoso brings a dazzling, jazzy modernity to the tiny four-stringed instrument, often calling to mind the fleet-fingered jazz-rock ax greats in his superwide harmonic palette and daring melodic invention. He’s got a new EP out called My Life, on which he interprets and actually improves upon several songs he grew up with, by the Beatles, Cyndi Lauper, Sarah McLachlan and Led Zep — a staggeringly beautiful take on “Goin’ to California.” (Really.) Onstage, Shimabukuro is also known for ripping out one of the most heartrendingly hairy versions of “While My Guitar Gently Weeps.” His playing is just extraordinarily smart and sensitive, and he’s single-handedly (okay, he uses both hands) relaunching an instrument long consigned to the dustbin of sandy-beach tourist kitsch. (John Payne)

Melvins at the Echoplex

“The Melvins are awesome. Their stories write themselves.” So says my pal Chris, a music editor/committed metalhead, when I’m hit with a temporary, hangover-induced creative block. Truly, there’s a lot to say about a band whose (barely recognized) significance in rock music — Pacific Northwest grunge in particular — can’t be overstated. Led by the notoriously crotchety Buzz Osborne, the Melvins are both an established rock band doing the thick metal with raging punk streaks that they’ve done really well since the ’80s, and an inventive and open-minded outfit that indulges in extramusical efforts on the regular. Last year they hooked up with the two members of Big Business and put out (A) Senile Animal, a butchy, rigorous exercise in thoughtful metal, on home-base label Ipecac. Ultimately the Melvins now are as worthwhile as the Melvins then. Which is as rare a sentiment as the band that deserves it. (Kate Carraway)

MONDAY, Dec. 31

Bloc Party, Talib Kweli at the Hollywood Roosevelt

Just when you were going to give unconscious rappers another chance, your New Year’s resolution is annihilated by the higher counsel of “conscious” rapper Talib Kweli. This year, Kweli launched his record label, Blacksmith; partnered with Mos Def to buy the oldest black-owned bookstore in Brooklyn and reshape it into the Nkiru Center for Education and Culture; and put out an album, Eardrum, that made last summer that much sunnier for its existence (especially the affectionate and lusty jam “Hot Thing”). Also in ’07, Essex, U.K., quartet Bloc Party unleashed the ass-shaking codex of their sophomore album, A Weekend in the City. If you missed the stellar, shimmering video for the single “Flux,” find it on MySpace — it features giant Japanese monsters in love and battling for each other’s affections, even while they battle squid-monster hybrids. Just like life! (David Cotner)