Remember L.A. Weekly’s old “Also Recommended” notes? Let us refresh your memory . . . Thurs., 8/3: BLOC PARTY, BROKEN SOCIAL SCENE, MEW at the Greek; TALLY HALL at Spaceland; TSAR at Safari Sam’s . . . Fri., 8/4: GRIS GRIS, ORANGER at the Echo; MARGO & THE NUCLEAR SO & SO’S at Hotel Café; DANIEL POWTER at the Roxy; THE ROCKETZ, LORDS OF ALTAMONT at Safari Sam’s; TRICKY at Avalon . . . Sat., 8/5: NALEPA at La Trova House; POP LEVI, BEATNUTS at Knitting Factory . . . Sun., 8/6: FLACO JIMENEZ, I SEE HAWKS IN L.A., SUSIE GLAZE at Skirball Center; JENI RIVERA at Gibson Amphitheater; TEENAGE TALKING CARS at the Echo . . . Mon., 8/7: KIND HEARTS & CORONETS, WINTER FLOWERS, ARI SHINE at the Echo; THE LITTLE ONES at Spaceland; MEW at the Troubadour . . . Tues., 8/8: MOTOR at Cinespace; SEAN NA NA at Safari Sam’s . . . Wed., 8/9: THE BRONX at the Roxy; FIELDING at Safari Sam’s; KRS-ONE at HoB; THE SUBWAYS at the Troubadour; UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF GIANTS at the Key Club . . . Thurs., 8/10: DEAD PREZ at the Key Club; RODRIGO Y GABRIELA at the Echo; TOO SHORT at HoB.


The Aggrolites, Joey Altruda’s Classic Riddims, The Chris Murray Combo at Santa Monica Pier

strains credulity that the Aggrolites wrote every song on their
self-titled summertime skank-fest CD. Tracks like the working-stiff
hymn “Heavier Than Lead” and con blues “Prisoner Song” sound like gems
lifted from the storied vaults of late-’60s/early-’70s rock steady and
early reggae. No surprise there, since the band owes its existence to a
stint a few years ago backing up Derrick Morgan, a regular fixture on
the Jamaican hit parade back in the heyday. But the boyos don’t try and
cop a faux-island vibe, choosing instead to dirty things up a bit, get
funky and raise holy soulful hell in the dance. With riddim-music scene
stalwarts Joey Altruda and Chris Murray also on the bill, the Pier
faithful will surely shake free of sufferation. Starts at 7:30 p.m.;
free. (Tom Cheyney)

Bloc Party at the Greek Theater

written in the brochure that all 20-something upstarts from across the
pond these days will have to suffer ’80s comparisons before they even
utter “Testing one, two, three.” But unlike their outright thieving
American counterparts — namely Joy Division kleptomaniacs She Wants
Revenge — Bloc Party make at most a gentle nod to their forefathers on
their punk-disco, Mercury Prize–nominated 2005 debut, Silent Alarm.
Hits such as “Banquet,” “Helicopter” and “Like Eating Glass” go from
quiet and lush to throbbing and bombastic, thanks to the thunderous
percussion of drummer Matt Tong and the yelping (sometimes soft,
sometimes urgent) vocals of singer Kele Okereke, whose lyrics only
tread the shallow end of the gloomy waters (“If it can be broke, then
it can be fixed/if it can be fused, then it can be split,” he cries out
on “Pioneers”). After three years of heavy gigging, the London quartet
have been unveiling newbies, including the current single “Two More
Years.” We’re hoping they stick around longer. (Siran Babayan)


Ramblin’ Jack Elliott at Tangier

Right about now is one of those times when you’ve got to stop, take stock and realize that, yes, we’ve still got real legends alive and well among us, treadin’ the boards and struttin’ their 10,000th hour upon yonder stage. Ramblin’ Jack Elliott is one such giant of a man, the veteran American folk musician who’s been plying his trade for something like 50 years. This living Woody Guthrie has a new album out on Anti- called I Stand Alone, and it’s real heartening stuff, excellently plucked on rough-hewn acoustic guitar with whiny-belted-out short ditties about things the old coot’s earned the right to sing about, like his arthritis; his good old hound dog; trains, of course; drinking bottles o’ booze over you, and driving nails in his coffin in the process; how the bad ol’ gals got young Jack in big heaps o’ trouble; and, say, Jean Harlow died the other day — boy, was she somethin’ . . . Let this national treasure dust your broom while you have the chance. Also at Largo, Sat. (John Payne)

Peaches & Herms, Eagles of Death Metal, Burning Brides at the Wiltern

It’s amazing it took as long as it did for Josh Homme’s Eagles of Death Metal to link up with Berlin-based raunch-rap mistress Peaches, since both acts sing about sex more single-mindedly than perhaps anyone else making records right now. Death by Sexy, the Eagles’ second album, offers two surprises: It exists, thereby disproving the assumptions of skeptics who figured Homme would preserve his mojo for Queens of the Stone Age after 2004’s Peace Love Death Metal, and it’s actually better than the debut — exceedingly rare for a side project. Peaches’ latest, Impeach My Bush, isn’t as funny or as pointed as its title, but it has its highlights, particularly when Homme shows up and lends Peaches’ minimal electro-squelch a jolt of robot-rock energy; she’ll appear tonight backed by a band that includes Eagles drummer Samantha Maloney and JD Samson of Le Tigre. Philly-based garage-metallers Burning Brides open. (Mikael Wood)

SATURDAY, AUGUST 5The Chuck Manning Quartet at Cafe Metropol

Chuck Manning has played a lot of saxophone around town — with the
much-missed L.A. Jazz Quartet and countless other bands. His sideman
skills will be on display Friday at LACMA with Bobby Bradford’s Mo’tet.
(His solo on “Sideman” off their Live at LACMA
is perfection.) Joe Henderson was a mentor, and there’s plenty of Joe
in his sound, that confident swing that occasionally steps just out of
bounds. But it’s mostly all Manning: smart, inventive solos exploring
themes and tones inside and a little bit out, returning to a perfectly
logical place. Leader gigs are rare, but Saturday night at the intimate
Metropol he fronts his own quartet (pianist Jim Szilyagi, bassist
Richard Giddens and drummer Tim Pleasant), playing originals and
lesser-played Trane and Newk and Loesser. It’s straight-ahead that
veers a little off. Café Metropol, 923 E. Third St., dwntwn.; Sat.,
Aug. 5, 8 p.m.; $5. (213) 613-1537. (Brick Wahl)

Rock the Bells Festival with Wu-Tang Clan at NOS Events Center

“The saga continues, Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang,” spit Ol’ Dirty Bastard on the single “Triumph” from 1997’s Wu-Tang Forever, one of the greatest albums of all time. Although ODB was considered the court jester of the eight-member Wu-Tang Clan, he was really a genius, a character ahead of the game who could get away with lines like “I don’t walk, I get carried.” Russell Tyrone Jones (ODB) is now resting in peace after a 2004 “accidental overdose,” but the Shaolin Wu-Tang warriors continue carrying forward the “W” and will be doing a tribute show to ODB. Also on the bill is another dude who will cut you with the lyrical sword, Immortal Technique, and local crews Visionaries (check out 2MEX) and Dilated Peoples. 689 S. “E” Street, San Bernardino. (213) 480-3232. (Ben Quiñones)

Salif Keita, Ashley Maher at Santa Monica Pier

Although Salif Keita has long been a stylistic chameleon, oscillating between rocked-up globo-fusion and griot-zone revelations, one thing has remained constant — the voice. One moment he hits you with righteous blast-furnace power, the next he leaves you emotionally restored or misting up like a humidifier. His last two discs, 2002’s Moffou and the just-released M’Bemba, mine Mali’s rich folkloric strata and hit roots-pop pay dirt. The latest album — and first recorded at his new Bamako studio — proves on the turbocharged trad funk of “Yambo” and Cuban groove–kissed “Tu Vas Me Manquer” that you don’t have to plug in to populate the dance floor. Salif also encourages pre- and post-boogie contemplation or seduction on slow burners like “Dery.” Opening for one of her musical heroes is local mundalista mama Ashley Maher, whose compellingly crafted songs deserve extra-regional recognition. Starts at 7:30 p.m.; free. (Tom Cheyney)

Motorcycle Boy at Spaceland

“Why Not Fuck a Motorcycle Boy today?” It was a slogan stickered all over Hollywood back in the ’80s, and gaggles of big-haired girlies surely took the request to heart. Back then, Motorcycle Boy shows (at era hot spots like Scream and Raji’s) were the shit — if you were a rock scenester, you were there. Period. But it wasn’t all posing and prancing. The guys had a catchy yet rebellious charm to their music that made them stand out, as heard on their Triple X classic, Popsickle, produced by none other than the New York Dolls’ Sylvain Sylvain. Dunno why they’ve decided to regroup now (it’s been five years since they last rocked out together), but we hear some slammin’ new music is involved. One thing’s for sure, a set from François, Eden and the boys is always a ride. Also with the Binges, Pretty Vicious and the Small Goods. (Lina Lecaro)

LA Weekly