LA Weekly

THURSDAY, APRIL 17

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Majestic robots: Ghostland Observatory

J. Thompson

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Hammer of the gods: The Sword

Cari Veach

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Bad Dudes: Heads will roll.

 
Sabbat at the Whisky

While America’s four horsemen of thrash metal — Metallica, Megadeth, Slayer and Anthrax — were gate-crashing MTV in the late 1980s, their broke Brit cousins were releasing indie albums and playing underground van tours. Nottingham’s Sabbat skewed the genre’s amphetamine formula (post–Iron Maiden militaristic/poltergeist vocals, chugging riffage and strangulated solos, ADHD tempo) with Tolkien-worthy lyrics, refreshing acoustic interludes, chuckle-inducing sound effects, and (seriously) cover art featuring the stringy-haired band posing at Stonehenge in Renaissance Faire attire. Though Sabbat’s original stint was stunted, guitarist Andy Sneap continued to shape extreme metal as a producer for everyone from Megadeth to Arch Enemy. Making their first-ever stateside visit to mark the re-release of their two mini-classics (1987’s History of a Time to Come and 1989’s Dreamweaver), these together-again gloomsters are getting some belated kudos for an uncompromising, unfiltered — and slightly unhinged — purity seldom seen on the contemporary Strip. (Paul Rogers)

Jail Weddings at the Echo

The name Jail Weddings reminds us of a time in the ’80s when Social Distortion’s Mike Ness, talking onstage about a recent stint in jail, thanked “all the homeboys and homegirls” he’d met there. We’re not sure just where Ness’ mythical coed lockup is located, but Jail Weddings take the notion of such sexy imprisonment as a fanciful launching point for their “death doo-wop” and groovy ’60s girl-group melodramas, which they describe as “the last gasp of romance.” The 10-piece L.A. band are led by singer-guitarist Gabe Hart (the Starvations, Fortune’s Flesh), who aims for a Roy Orbison grandeur on their “Somebody Lonely” 7-inch (Revenge Records) but howls with a raggedy mumble that’s closer to Jonathan Richman or the Saints’ Chris Bailey. Hart is buttressed by singers Tornado Jane and Katya Nadia Hubiak, who coo “Don’t let our mess get in the way of our obsession” over Brad Caulkins’ restless sax on the b-side, “The Honeymoon Loop.” Drummer Ian Harrower’s thunderous tom-tom rolls and Hannah Blumenfeld’s weaving violin stir up similarly grand and tragic passions on their upcoming single, “People Like Us (Are Extinct).” (Falling James)

Tift Merritt, Sara Watkins at the Troubadour

Before recording her third studio album, Another Country, in Los Angeles last summer with producer George Drakoulias, North Carolina native Tift Merritt locked herself up in a rented apartment in Paris in an attempt to recharge her creative batteries. The country singer’s immersion into another (literal) country seems to have lifted her spirits, as she sings with a relaxed confidence on such easygoing tunes as “I Know What I’m Looking for Now” and the recent hit “Broken.” Apart from the Stax-y “Tell Me Something True,” the new CD doesn’t rock out quite as much as 2004’s Tambourine (which included such similarly warm and catchy R&B-laced tracks as “Good Hearted Man” and “I Am Your Tambourine”), but mellow tunes like “Morning Is My Destination” are lovingly rendered, and Merritt does a decent job of singing in French on the sugary album-closing piano ballad, “Mille Tendresses.” Nickel Creek’s Sara Watkins — who was recently a guest on Merritt’s new radio show, The Spark — opens tonight’s show. (Falling James)

 
Also playing Thursday:

EELS at El Rey Theatre; THE WATSON FAMILY HOUR at Largo; OLIVER FUTURE at Safari Sam’s; THE MONOLATORS at the Scene; DON CAVALLI at UCLA’s Kerckhoff Grand Salon, noon.

FRIDAY, APRIL 18

 
Ghostland Observatory at the Henry Fonda Theater

When Austin duo Ghostland Observatory churn out ear-candy electro anthems from their brand-new Robotique Majestique — or any of their other pleasurably plastic albums — what could have been tiresomely snide is a head-bobbing hoot thanks to the pair’s knack for actual songs. Crowd fave “Sad Sad City” is humanized with programmer-keyboardist Thomas Turner’s thumping grooves and sloppy synth doodles; singer Aaron Behrens’ poignant vocals turn “Stranger Lover” into the most sensual club track this side of “SexyBack.” No matter how much vocoder or artifice is glopped onto these ditties, the emotion punches through. Save for the silvery action-hero cape, Turner is basically the straight man to Behrens’ disco-man-lover except when he’s kicking the 4/4 on a real drum set. Even when he’s not singing his heart out, Behrens’ Elvis–via–Michael Jackson–cum–Saturday Night Fever moves are a spectacle in itself. (Andrew Lentz)

The Ash Grove 50th Anniversary at Royce Hall

The paradox of “folk music,” where the banal, barely able Pete Seeger was perceived as a creative force comparable to the intensely idiosyncratic Texas blues demon Lightnin’ Hopkins, is one of the great pop-culture snafus of modern America. At the fabled and long-gone Los Angeles club the Ash Grove, though, it all came out in the wash, and whether a weedy revivalist or a menacingly genuine real McCoy was onstage, that room served as both an artistic oasis and social acid test whose impact still reverberates five decades after it opened. In honor of this 50th anniversary, UCLA is hosting a three-day blowout that brings together some of the still-active key players, such as the folk-revival tradition-bearer Ramblin’ Jack Elliott and the freewheeling blues-and-beyond entertainer Taj Mahal, and some performers, like the fine blues singer Bernie Pearl, who literally came of age in the club. The scope is impressive, ranging from the Watts Prophets to country-bluegrass boss Roland White, and there are bound to be more than a few profound moments along the way. Also Sat.-Sun. See Music feature. (Jonny Whiteside)

The Sword at El Rey Theatre

It doesn’t happen very often that people who collect back issues of Heavy Metal and the hipsters at SXSW hype the same band, but that’s exactly what transpired when Austin natives the Sword delivered a breakout performance at last year’s festival. A four-piece with the soul-sucking sonics of a classic NWOBM (New Wave of British Metal) five-piece, they are the new heroes of retro-metal, complete with blazing twin guitars that are more Adrian Smith and Dave Murray (Iron Maiden) than Glen Tipton and K.K. Downing (Judas Priest). Lead singer J.D. Cronise is capable of delivering an Ozzy-like whine or a Hetfield-vs.-Mustaine-like scolding. Whatever reason the post-irony crowd gives you for digging Gods of the Earth (the Swords’ latest, on Kemando), they’re full of it. The Sword cut through such pretentious armor like the Black Blade through butter. (Daniel Siwek)