The Cheatin' Kind, Groovy Rednecks, DJ Jello Biafra
EL CID
5515 Wilshire Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90036
Category: Bars/Clubs
Region: Mid-Wilshire/ Hancock Park
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6126 Hollywood Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90028
Category: Music Venues
Region: Out of Town
123 Astronaut E S Onizuka St., No. 301
Los Angeles, CA 90012
Category: Bars/Clubs
Region: Chinatown/ Elysian Park
9081 Santa Monica Blvd.
West Hollywood, CA 90069
Category: Bars/Clubs
Region: West Hollywood
111 S. Grand Ave.
Los Angeles, CA 90012
Category: Music Venues
Region: Out of Town
322 W. Sierra Madre Blvd.
Sierra Madre, CA 91024
Category: Music Venues
Region: Foothill Cities
The Cheatin' Kind have been such a major part of the local underground country-rock scene that it feels like a sudden kick in the teeth to hear that tonight's their final show. Of course, lead singer Babs MacDonald and gang kick out tunes like "Where Ya At?" with just as much punky drive as traditional country reverence. The truth is, reverence rarely interferes with the Cheatin' Kind's fun-time spirit, as guitarist Paul Morris sends wiry shivers and occasional AC/DC power chords up the neck to keep pace with MacDonald's brassy, sassy howling. No one has ever accused the Groovy Rednecks of having reverence for anything but alcohol, and tonight's likely to be a boozy send-off for their longtime pals. Stranger still, Dead Kennedys main man Jello Biafra makes a rare local visit, presiding over the sad-merry affair as the night's DJ. —Falling James
Also playing:
SWERVEDRIVER at Key Club; RICHARD BUCKNER at McCabe's; AZAR LAWRENCE at the Mint.
sun 4/8
Brass Tax
CENTRAL SAPC
Jada Wagensomer sings in Jail Weddings and plays bass in Dante Vs Zombies, but Brass Tax are all hers, or maybe just all her — a ferociously complex, ferociously complete statement in the proud tradition of L.A.'s pop mavericks. (A word that originally meant something with lots of horsepower that'll break your neck if you aren't careful.) There are plenty of marks from Nilsson and Sparks and Van Dyke Parks here, and full credits for banjo, wind chimes, three saxes and violin indicate how many "why-not?" turns these songs take. But above it all floats the spirit of Warren Zevon — that old Hollywood blend of bleakness, beauty, broken hearts and broken bottles revealed at break of day. Brass Tax have something special here, and don't it make you wanna rock & roll all night long? —Chris Ziegler
The Greenery
COBALT CAFÉ
These Long Beach louts have the unresolved-issues rage and thousand-percent commitment common to their hardcore kin. What carves them a niche is their broadly informed borrowing from the genre's substrains. Their twin guitars have a metallic Southern slur à la Every Time I Die, the breakdowns boast ominous NYHC intent, and there's a pervading hooligan 'tude that harks right back to UK82 upstarts Discharge and the Exploited. Frontman Matt Lanners' convincingly bratty bark is well suited to his often petty, adolescent subject matter, with rants on skating ("Faceplant") and foulmouthed hatin' ("Tracker") that likely will find a potent resonance with the Cobalt's all-ages crowd. It really helps that the Greenery's frantic (if somewhat samey) debut album, last year's Spit & Argue, is just built for a pit. —Paul Rogers
Also playing:
MOSES CAMPBELL at Bootleg Bar.
mon 4/9
Garbage
EL REY THEATRE
Garbage may claim they're Not Your Kind of People (to quote the title of their upcoming comeback album), but there are still plenty of people who are curious to see if the '90s alt-rock band has anything left to say after laying low for much of the past decade. The new single "Blood for Poppies" may not definitively answer whether the onetime Madison, Wis., group (now based in L.A.) really has its mojo back, but it's a promising start, with Shirley Manson's winsome, raplike delivery ("I miss my dog, and I miss my freedom") wrapped inside Steve Marker's leering hard-rock riff, as drummer-producer Butch Vig mixes everything into a slightly psychedelic dub-pop-rock stew. Like the band itself, the song is a complicated, incendiary combination of influences, alternately banal and glittery, and it might cure your ills if it doesn't blow up first. Also Tues. —Falling James
Also playing:
JOHN CARPENTER at Los Globos; KIM RICHMOND ORCHESTRA at Typhoon.
tue 4/10
Neon Trees, Nico Vega
TROUBADOUR
The relentless local airplay for Neon Trees' debut album, Habit, and first single "Everybody Talks" from its imminent follow-up, Picture Show, should ensure a full house for their savvy, shameless pop. "Everybody Talks" suggests that the Utah quartet will continue to echo its sound-alike mentors the Killers (who put NT on the map with a string of support slots in 2008), with hooks draped in a wily blend of bar-band earthiness and '80s cheeseball sheen. L.A.'s Nico Vega deserve better than seemingly perpetual opening-act status, so stunning is their sultry, skeletal New Millennium blues in its single-mindedness. The recent addition of a bassist adds warmth and a welcome third dimension behind frontgal Aja Volkman's suggestively hoarse, soul-baring yelp. —Paul Rogers
Also playing:
LEE RANALDO BAND at the Satellite; OH LAND, BLOOD ORANGE, TRUST at the Echoplex; ANNE WALSH at Spaghettini.
wed 4/11
Chairlift, Nite Jewel
TROUBADOUR
Ever wondered what it would be like to hear Toni Braxton fronting a synth-loving indie-pop outfit? If not, Brooklyn's Chairlift make the unlikely case that you're a fool for never considering it. Singer-keyboardist Caroline Polachek has a voice that soars smoothly atop her partner Patrick Wimberly's bass and beats, suggesting a heady mix of airy '70s psychedelia, wonky '80s new age–isms and powerhouse '90s R&B. It's a strangely seductive mélange that plays out wonderfully across the pair's new album, Something, which is easily one of the year's most interesting so far. Longtime L.A. favorite Ramona Gonzales opens as Nite Jewel, an early adopter of the so-called chillwave sound whose lo-fi but lush keyboard jams are reaching a wider audience, thanks to her just-out One Second of Love. She's an expert at walking the line between art and pop, foreign and familiar. —Chris Martins
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