Pharrell, for one, can only look up at her: The #1 album this week, debuting at the top of the Billboard Top 200, is LeToya by ex-Destiny's Child member LeToya, aka LeToya Luckett. Say her name!

She's looking kinda "If Your Girl Only Knew"-era Aaliyah here, but I won't hate. After all, her former bandmate knows a thing or two about ripping off the one and only Babygirl.

If it isn't too early, here's my September 12, 2006 wish: Mario Vazquez, please kick Justin Timberlake's ass right off the #1 spot.

Guardian intern K. Tighe remembers the great Love leader Arthur Lee:

After his struggle with acute myeloid leukemia, psych-rock pioneer and Love frontman Arthur Lee died peacefully at Methodist Hospital in Memphis, a little after 4 in the afternoon on August 3, 2006, with his wife Diane by his side. He was 61.

Lee's manager and friend, Mark Linn released the following statement:

"His death comes as a shock to me because Arthur had the uncanny ability to bounce back from everything, and leukemia was no exception. He was confident that he would be back on stage by the fall."

Arthur Taylor Porter, a Memphis native, relocated to Los Angeles in the early 1960s. Sinking his feet into the recording industry, he hired a young Jimi Hendrix to play as a studio musician on what was likely the guitarist’s first-ever studio session.

In 1965, Lee formed the band Love, first called the Grass Roots. He changed the moniker after realizing another band had beaten them to the punch. The name Love was decided on after polling an audience. Soon after its rechristening, Love became the talk of the strip, becoming the first rock band to sign to the folk label Elektra.

Though their most famous song was certainly “7 and 7 Is” from 1967’s De Capo, it was the following album, 1968’s Forever Changes, that would seal Love’s place in musical history. The latter was named no. 41 on Rolling Stone’s list of the top 500 albums of all time.

Several fundraising events were put together to help raise money for Lee’s treatment following his diagnosis. His friend Robert Plant headlined the Beacon Theatre in New York on June 23, supported by Ryan Adams, Yo La Tengo, and Flashy Python and the Body Snatchers (a side-project of Clap Your Hands Say Yeah frontperson Alec Ounsworth). A few days later Love co-founder, Johnny Echols played LA’s Whisky-a-Go-Go with Baby Lemonade in another benefit for Lee.

According to Linn, the ailing Lee was appreciative of the support. "When I visited with him recently, he was visibly moved by the stories and pictures from the NYC benefit concert,” Linn said in his statement. “He was truly grateful for the outpouring of love from friends and fans all over the world since news of his illness became public."

The infamously eccentric songwriter has been named as a key influence to dozens of musicians, notably Plant, Jim Morrison, and the recently deceased Syd Barrett.

"Arthur always lived in the moment and said what he thought when he thought it. I'll miss his phone calls, and his long voice messages, but most of all I'll miss Arthur playing Arthur's music," said Linn.

So will we.

All photos by Kimberly Chun

Oh, yeah, we were suffering in the days following the Guardian's Best of the Bay blow-out at Club Six on Aug. 2. But oh was it worth it... The soju madras rocked hard, and the Ethiopian chow was the bomb. Much raucous insanity and quality music-making came courtesy of Zion I, Erase Errata, Numbers, T-Kash, and, above, Yikes.

Excellent noisy garage-rocking fun from vets of the Coachwhips, Curse of the Birthmark, and Big Techno Werewolf. Someone had the bright idea to throw every flier in the joint at the band - where are those huge sacks of confetti when you need 'em?

The band to beat was Extra Action Marching Band, who brought the fleshy, sweaty, savory goods in two sets.

Brassy, sassy, totally loud. In a good way.

A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence gets some non-sisterly extra action.

Flag team, not flaggin'.

Yeah, so what that Sasha Frere-Jones has praised him in the New Yorker, and the New York Times is loving him, too. There's still at least one Scritti Politti maniac on the Guardian premises, and I wanna know what he thinks about White Bread, Black Beer.

Yes, I, Marke B., your friendly ghost club whore, am the Scritti Politti freak on the premises (see Johnny Ray's post below), the kid who grew up with 1982's vinyl Songs To Remember under his pillow right on top of Of Grammatology by the one and only Jacques Derrida.

That was in high school when I first discovered Green; in middle school it was Finnegan's Wake and the Lotus Eaters. It was like poet Elizabeth Bishop eating stinky cheeses at Vassar -- somehow I thought having such things at night would cause my dreams to be realer, and then I wrote poems about the opposite process occurring: what happens if you dream something's real and you vomit Runny Uncle? But I digress.

Green, I love you so, not least when your bleached hair was poofy and your late '70s Marxist collective proto-rapped such lovelies as:

Rapacious, rapacious
You can never say she ain't
But my desire was so voracious
I wanted to eat your nation/state

from "Jaques Derrida," or hymned almost invisibly, most relevantly:

Learn to love the beats in the bar
Make me sick with repetition
Learn to love that one note sound, boy
No surprise or definition
I guess I can learn to love what I'm used to
You can get used to just getting used by
Rock-a-boy blues ...

from Rock-a-Boy Blue, pretty much a summation of all my previous relationships.

It was so exciting seeing theory made pan-racial musical flesh, bopping around to the "Nazi shakedown" of "P.A.'s" (We don't practice with P.A.'s/ We've got bills to pay) or puzzling out the lyrics of Bibbly-O-Tek. Then came the super-glossy, superstar Fairlight stage of Scritti Politti, and working with every cool musician alive; the Wood Beez that I remember first hearing in an ice cream shop of my hometown Rickmansworth in England in the 80s. It was astonishing: my prepubescent, queer body rose up from a melting cone.

I absolutely loved Anomie and Bonhomie, especially "Tinseltown to the Boogiedown" with Mos Def, the lyrics somehow predicting the coming apocalypse through a stardust metronome. The way Green can tuck a devastating poetical twist so far back in the spoken inanities of love that most people don't ever get it. That's why I love him: exclusivity. I'm a VIP bitch intellectually, and it's a trip I like to take alone. I'm grooving to Green's latest, "White Bread, Black Beer" and I'm still a charter member of Scritti Crush Connection, but now that Scritti Politti are being lionized a la Gang of Four, they're no longer my dirty little secret. and that spells situationist subversive subcultural snob death. lalalala.

Guardian assistant art director Ben Hopfer checked out the Rock the Bells rap convo on Aug. 6 in Concord:

Redman carouses backstage at Rock the Bells.
All images by Ben Hopfer.

Rock the Bells sets the bar for what a quality hip-hop festival should be all about. Last year's lineup was good -- members of the Wu-Tang Clan appeared, including Raekwon, Ghostface Killah, and Method Man -- and this year's bill embodied hip-hop at its highest level. The entire Clan -- excluding the RZA -- performed in tribute to the late Ol' Dirty Bastard.

Wu-tang Clan definitly brought the motherfucking ruckus with the highly energetic Method Man trading off on leads with Ghostface Killah.

Other members all had their own distinct styles. Pictured: Mastakilla, Raekwon, U-God, Method Man, and the GZA.

Festival organizers always find the right mix of quality hip-hop from the Bay Area and beyond. Local talent like Zion I, Del tha Funkee Homosapien from the Heiroglyphics, as well as the Living Legends were going to be on hand this time, so I knew in advance that the show was going to be insane. In addition to those artists, the lineup was back-loaded with some pretty big names: De La Soul, Talib Kweli, Mos Def, Redman, and of course, the Wu-Tang Clan. Toss into this already diverse stew the politically charged Planet Asia and Immortal Technique, and you have the spectrum covered.

Planet Asia introduced energy early on at the festival.

Immortal Technique offers revolutionary music to the masses.

Immortal Technique lets me know what he thinks of the Minutemen with the Brown Berets.

When it came to the music, the festival was top-notch. I can't say the same about the venue. Call me a purist, but I like to see my hip-hop up close. Pack me in a club well past the fire marshall's limit -- I won't care. Hip-hop crowds need to be enclosed. We're kind of like cattle that way. The Concord pavilion just wasn't built for this kind of show. Some '80s arena rock, yes. Mos Def, no.

Zion-I holds it down for the Bay backstage.

De La Soul gives the crowd some love.

I don't want a seat when I'm seeing hip-hop -- I want to rush the goddamn stage! The cheaper seats were so far back that I needed a mini-Hubble to see what was happening on stage. Hell, even a $100 ticket couldn't get me to the stage -- thank god for press passes. Big ups for the Wu-Tang Clan. They told the crowd to rush the stage, knowing that without crowd energy, things just aren't the same. But while one bar was raised, another was missing: the lack of alcohol for the 21-and-older crowd left a sour taste in my mouth. Actually, I should say a dry taste in my mouth, as I just wanted a beer or three.

Sway from the Wake-Up show talks with Domino from the Heiroglyphics Crew. Did I just hear that Heiro is workng with Prince Paul? Shhh!

Supernatural, now the world record holder for longest freestyle (nine hours!), showed his skills by freestyling only from items handed to him by the crowd.

Redman proved once again that his presence can bring the crowd to their feet.

A Blackstar reunion of sorts: Talib Kweli (left) and the mighty Mos Def (right).

Oh snap, is that Dave Chapelle? Yeeeah!

I don't mean to complain about the show. I mean even at $100 you got your money's worth of unbelievable hip-hop. I understand that Rock the Bells needed a bigger venue this year to get all of these artists together for the day. I just miss the intimacy of last year's festival. Here's hoping next year's will be a little more crowd friendly while still bringing some hip-hop heat.

Murs of Living Legends shows everybody that he has much love for the Bay.

The Living Legends pulls no stops when performing as a group. Pictured: Asop, the Grouch, Luckyiam, Scarub, Sunspot Jonez, and Bicasso.

Yes, Grandaddy may be gone but the band's not forgotten. In particular, poobah Jason Lytle hasn't spaced on his group's songs -- though he did stumble and not quite fall during "Jeez Louise" off his latest album, Just Like the Fambly Cat. It was a sweet, hypnotic, dimly lit, and not-quite-acoustic set on Tuesday, Aug. 8, at Cafe du Nord, the first of two nights at our fave former speakeasy. Lytle switched between guitar and keyboards, playing with multi-instrumentalist Rusty Miller from Jackpot.

Nice Vans, by the way, JL.

Guardian music intern Michael Harkin made the trip up to Portland, Ore., for the last Sleater-Kinney show at the Crystal Ballroom on Aug. 12. Here's his review:

A warm Saturday evening in Portland set the scene as Sleater-Kinney laid their axes down. The three of them - drummer Janet Weiss and singer-guitarists Corin Tucker and Carrie Brownstein - have an iconic status that’s duly earned and responsible for some of the best rock records in recent memory.

It all went down in the Crystal Ballroom, where the Thermals, terse garage-poppers and fellow Portland residents, opened the show. Next Eddie Vedder made a brief, flashbulb-bathed appearance onstage, playing a surprisingly well-received two-song set that included an acoustic, Dylan-esque political tune as well as a song sung with Janet Weiss as he played ukulele.

Other than the thank-yous and song dedications, the show didn’t have the resonance of a last hurrah: the heaviness normally characterizing their shows was sustained over more than 25 songs and two hours, filmed and recorded for later release on a DVD or live album.

Both at this show and on record, they never seemed like a band that had run out of ideas. Last year’s The Woods (Sub Pop), from which the set drew pretty heavily, was so damn good - it somehow proved refreshing even as it came from a band whose work never became tired or contrived. Opening banger “The Fox,” as well as the singles, “Entertain” and “Jumpers,” were among the most raucous that night, carrying the kind of stomp value rarely seen outside of Led Zeppelin’s discography.

Brownstein had the most rock-star demeanor of any up there, adding arm-swing flourishes to her guitar-playing, while Tucker would lift her right arm like a choir leader at a song’s chorus, subtly imploring the sing-alongs already requisite for a crowd at a band’s final show. They traversed their back catalog in properly comprehensive fashion, where “Oh!” and “You’re No Rock ‘n' Roll Fun” sat alongside “Words and Guitar” and the incendiary “Dig Me Out,” all prompting floor fluctuations that bordered on the unnerving. Weiss’s cool, adroit intensity behind the kit left one relieved that her other band, Quasi, doesn’t appear to be going anywhere.

Your humble writer may have been hoping for a “Get Up,” but there was really nothing else to ask from the women, who totally killed throughout. It’s sad to see one of the Pacific Northwest’s greatest assets have to go, but records as awesome as The Hot Rock (Kill Rock Stars) should inspire many bands for years to come.

You ran into the most intriguing pairings - and people - at the Bleeding Edge Festival Sunday, Aug. 13: what other event would find SF duo Matmos and a handful of other familiar SF rock folk down amid the leafy, upper-crusty environs of Saratoga (inspiring the question: just how many McMansions and outright mansions can one small town include?). I can't help but compare the event to last year's ArthurFest in LA - it was a similar wide-ranging if somewhat smaller gathering of intriguing artists in an unlikely, grassy, very non-clubby space. And as with Yoko Ono at that 2005 event, you could catch one-time events like this collabo between Matmos and Zeena Parkins below.

Zeena Parkins beats long-stemmed red roses and Matmos takes a stab at the duo's recent "Roses and Teeth Ludwig Wittgenstein." All images by Kimberly Chun.

But unlike ArthurFest, the selections seemed a wee bit random: I still don't quite get the connection between the fine but not quite as experimental Yo La Tengo and, say, sound artist William Basinski, who impressed many in the Carriage House theater and also installed a site-specific tape loop piece, in collaboration with James Elaine, in the Main Hall.

Considering the long haul from other parts of the Bay Area to the site (the location makes it superconvenient for San Jose fans and Zero One attendees but necessitated carpools for Oaklanders), I'd say that if the organizers wanted to make draw listeners to this event they should have charged $10 or $15 for the fest rather than $50. The prohibitive ticket price didn't help the shockingly sparse audience in the Garden amphitheater for lesser-known bands like Flying.

Yo La Tengo's Ira Kaplan hunkers down with a cozy, lengthy jam on "Autumn Sweater."

Also admirable, with mixed results, was the juried competition winner showcase. Pardon my igornace but when did this competition occur? Who was invited to compete? Questions, questions - the mind is a-whirl. In any case, the best of the bunch was Canned Corpus Callosum, here shown below, cranking out the rickety-rock Tom-Waits-and-Dresden Dolls-like sounds.

Canned Corpus Callosum peel open their roots-industrial-noise-classical songbook.

In the end however despite power problems for Black Dice, who played for three seconds then blew out for about an hour (heard they were incredible, if reminiscent of their last Great American Music Hall show), the event was a pleasure - set in startlingly beautiful environs. You could take a nature walk and check out Jeff Cain's Dead Air sound installation along a hill trail that had recently boasted mountain lion sightings. Toothy! Essentially for your average experimental music-noise connoisseur who wanted to spend a Sunday with mom amid pink lilies and sound art - this was the place to be.

Maybe the best eulogy ever written (and certainly the first I've ever read to contain the phrase "Luciferian Fire") is this one for Jon Nödtveidt, singer of the recently split Swedish band Dissection. He was also, uh, a convicted murderer.

From the band's official website, via ohnotheydidnt:

"As rumours have started to spread we feel obliged to confirm Jon Nödtveidt's death. Jon Nödtveidt was a man who lived his life according to his convictions and True Will. A couple of days ago he chose to end his life by his own hands. As a true Satanist he led his life in the way he wanted and ended it when he felt that he had fulfilled his self-created destiny. Not everyone will have understanding or acceptance for his personal path in this life and beyond, but all must respect his choice.

Those of us who have met him in his last days can assure that he was more focussed, happier and stronger than ever. It is our full conviction that he left this world of lies with a scornful laughter, knowing that he had fulfilled everything that he had set up for himself to accomplish. The empty space that he leaves behind will be filled with the dark essence that he manifested through his life and black-magical work. His legacy and Luciferian Fire will live on through those few who truly knew him and appreciated his work for what it really was and still is. As our brother's goal in life and death never was to "Rest in Peace", we will instead wish him victories in all battles to come, until the Acosmic Destiny has been fulfilled.

For the glory of the Dark Gods and the Wrathful Chaos!
218"

Lately, I can't stop listening to Moondog. Louis Thomas Hardin was often-to-always homeless, which is another way of saying the world belonged to him.

Blinded by a dynamite cap at the age of 16, Moondog traveled between the sounds of different countries and discovered some imaginary ones of his own -- the type of exotic places where Jack Smith probably wished he could escort Maria Montez.

Guardian intern Joseph DeFranceschi holds forth on his favorite music download site, Live Music Archive, and offers sundry tips:

If you’re reading this blog, you’ll probably be interested in the online musical goldmine known as the Live Music Archive.

Wilco -- just one of those stellar bands you find on Live Music Archive. Courtesy of www.nonesuch.com.

In the constant search for free music downloads, it is rare to stumble upon some that are high quality, easily accessible, and don’t require neglecting everything experts warn of regarding viruses and spyware. Remember when Kazaa’s coolest finds were those MP3s of outtakes or live records of crappy, scratchy sound quality? This database features complete concerts, entire album outtakes, and full radio performances, all in usually fantastic sound quality. You won’t find the hit singles here, but you can download rare live concert recordings that cannot be found in stores.

Most artists -- ranging from indie acts like Wilco and jam bands such as Grateful Dead to jazz players like Pat Metheny and bluegrass pickers such as Tony Rice – permit taping, and as a result there are more than 2,000 bands on LMA.

Check out live recordings of Pat Metheny on LMA, why don't you? Courtesy of www.patmethenygroup.com.

While this short article will only introduce you to downloading shows in MP3 form, there is a huge community of live music traders and numerous sources that offer free music downloads. The self-proclaimed “leader in lossless digital audio distribution on the Internet” is etree.org. Check out their website (www.etree.org) for tons of good information, software downloads, and links.

As for LMA: the easiest way to access the archive is by downloading one of their many shows in MP3 form. Although they sound fine to most people (including an audiophile like me) never burn these to CD and, should you get into trading these shows, which is perfectly legal, never trade anything from an MP3 source. Without such a rule, the quality will get worse as people repeatedly transfer the music from CD to MP3 and back again. That’s why those Kazaa tracks sounded so shitty.

Visit www.archive.org/audiowww.archive.org/audio. Some things you might consider are the source (soundboard recordings (SBD) are usually crystal clear with little annoying crowd noise), user ratings and reviews, venue (smaller venues usually make for better sound and radio studio performances are even better), and set list.

Note that not all shows on LMA are available in VBR MP3s. Some are kept as loss-less Flac and Shorten files. See wiki.etree.org for instructions on how to deal with these and the free program you’ll need to change them to CD form.

Here are some other online resources to check out:

-- Music.ibilio.org. Get shows by the Meters, Ben Folds, Radiohead, and others. They come in Shorten and Flac file forms so read about how to convert these to CD form on wiki.etree.org.

-- Bluegrassbox.com. Sign up for an FTP login and password for tons of free acoustic music from 1954 to the present.

-- bt.etree.org. This etree.org site has almost 3,500 shows for download in bit torrent form.

Yes, Virginia, there's much to catch up on since last week.

Red Hot Chili Peppers and Mars Volta for two, last Thursday at Oakland Arena. The scene was dumpy out in the parking lot before the show -- doesn't this look like the SUV pooped tin? Yeesh, clean up after yourselves, jerks.

Sloppy tailgaitin' Pepper-heads. All images by Kimberly Chun.

We got inside just in time to see the start of Mars Volta's set. Cedric was swiveling around like a mini-James Brown and the entire band got down admirably for some rad psych-prog jams despite the always-lousy arena sound. Nice pseudo-Satanic backdrops and occaisional sax skronk. For the finale the sax dude put his horn aside, sat behind a kit, while another player started wailing on a set of congas. Groooooovy.

As for the Chili Peppers, well what can I say? They are my guilty pleasure - I secretly love their pop hits and give them their props for being the first punk-funkers on the block. Yet why do all their other non-hit songs sooo similar. Despite the musicianship on Flea and Frusciante's part, I must admit I was downright bored for most of the show - must they jam endlessly on the most mundane riffs? Must Anthony Keidis cavort like a graceless goblin? His voice seemed just fine but his dance moves paled after the agile MV. I'd much rather read his recent, strangely fascinating autobio (which memorably kicks off with an injection by a sexy nurse).

Next up, Friday night: 7 Year Rabbit Cycle with XBXRX and Murder Murder. I'm sorry I missed XB but I got there early enough to see a new lineup for Guardian contributor Paul Costuros's Murder Murder, with Sic Alps's Matt Hartman and Comets on Fire's Noel Harmonson joining Costuros on sax and Ches Smith on vibes. Noise -and two drummers - t'was compelling.

Paul Costuros gets down with Murder Murder.

Then 7 Year Rabbit Cycle came on - and dang, did they tear it up. Ches Smith on drums has sort of become the centerpiece of the band, propping his foot up on a snare to reach a China cymbal, rattling and shaking, as everyone - partner Miya on bass, Rob on guitar, Kelly on vocals, fellow Xiu Xiu member Jamie Stewart, and Guardian contributor George Chen clustered around. Powerful stuff. Appreciative audience. Who could ask for anything more?

7 Year Rabbit Cycle don't go through the motions - they'll impress the fur off youse.

I took a break to head up north to Lassen volcanic national park. Awesome bubbling mud pits and cute bluejays. But then last night I was back to see Jean-Jacques Perrey - protege of Cocteau, Piaf, and Disney and Incredibly Strange Music star - play a special RE/Search event at Asphodel Records' Recombinant Labs in SOMA. Perrey fan Jello Biafra introduced the man.

Here's your Jello.

Perrey was a hoot - loved his jams particularly on "Mame" and "The Typewriter," his tribute to Spike Jones. I dare anyone not to crack a smile once during a performance.

Jean-Jacques Perrey shook his lil' stuffed pal along with the beat.

The man oozes infectious glee while pounding his beloved Ondioline, an early synthesizer - hard to believe he made so many of the sounds he creates with tape records, scissors and the sheer urge to splice. The much-sampled "EVA" was his closer - pure hip-shaking mod fun.

At 77 years young, Perrey proves you're never too old to mug for the camera.

May I just say that Memphis band Snowglobe's second full-length, Doing the Distance (Makeshift), out earlier this year, is one of the finest unhyped sleeper-type recordings of 2006 thus far? Hip-hip-hooray for weird, whirling orchestral prog-pop by musicians who obviously listened to far too much AM pop in the '70s.

Where have these guys been all our lives? Why haven't they played here? Why does their My Space page list an SF show on Sept. 3 but no deets? Can I stop punching the question mark key any time soon?