Kevin Shields is credited as "noise consultant" for Douglas Gordon and Philippe Parreno's Zidane: A 21st Century Portrait. That title might seem slightly absurd, but in fact, Shields's contribution to Zidane is anything but inconsequential. Any My Bloody Valentine acolyte that sees the movie in the theater will hear the unmistakable sound of Shields as he wields layers of crowd noise with the same hallucinatory impact he's brought to the electric guitar. His contribution proves to be as important as Mogwai's score, and perhaps a perfect corollary to Darius Khondji's 17-camera cinematography. Shields makes a symphony from stadium noise, and the result lures one deeper into a viewer fascimile of Zinedine Zidane's consciousness.

Because of Shields's contribution to Zidane, and because My Bloody Valentine's return is allegedly imminent, I thought the time was right to dig up some personal photos from the group's first tour in the United States, shortly after the US release of Isn't Anything, which had arrived like a juggernaut in late 1988 via Creation Records.

Bilinda J. Butcher on stage at Saint Andrew's Hall in Detroit, 1989. photo by Colleen and Rob Glander

By Todd Lavoie

Does heavy make you happy? Then cancel any plans you might have for this coming Monday, Feb. 4 - that's when Vancouver time-travelers Black Mountain besiege the Independent for a round or two of seriously sludgy soothsaying, in support of their just-released mindwarper In The Future (Jagjaguwar). If you've ever been known to hanker for end-is-nigh chug-a-ramas and sci-fi lullabies, bust out that wallet, buck: these crazed Canadians are onto something magnificently mighty.

Let's get the inevitable out of the way, shall we? Stoner rock - there, I said it. You'd be hard pressed to find a conversation about Black Mountain without coming across those two little words somewhere along the way, and you know what? For a damn good reason, that's what: these guys - and gal - don't so much pay tribute to the '60s and '70s as they do dwell amongst the ghosts of those decades, wafting and weaving about in bong-hugging formations.

Lest that description sound pejorative or, worse yet, like a back-handed compliment, let me clarify: this isn't noodling go-nowhere music, sacrificing songwriting for patchouli-powered "vibe-making," nor is it a tired, calculated retread of your dad's/older brother's teenage bedroom stereo-pumping. Rather, head honcho Stephen McBean and bandmates have managed to digest the entire history of so-called classic rock and fashion a fascinating new hybrid from the bits and pieces.

Bloody hell happens in Lower Haight - just in time for Valentine's Day! Photo by Joshua Rotter.

By Joshua Rotter

Love was the furthest thing from my mind on February’s first Friday, when I attended the “My Bloody Valentine” edition of monthly death-rock club Die, Die My Darling at Underground SF.

No, actually, it was all in my mind. Cross my heart. Since my recent break-up, I’ve thought about nothing else while catching up on TV and the latest snack foods and muting those pesky dating Web site commercials.

Fortunately, none of those shiny happy couples were represented here among the mixed crowd of mortals and ghouls adorned with pallid face paint and penciled-in eyebrows. Here were the disillusioned matched only by the bat cave classics - Bauhaus, Siouxsie, and Cure dirges - spun by host-DJ Jason El Diablo, which reaffirm that love is a bloody affair and no one’s hands are clean.

Show her some love: Robyn. Photo by Samantha Rapp.

By Joshua Rotter

Swedish singer-songwriter Robyn - best known in the US for her 1997 pop-R&B Top 10's "Show Me Love" and "Do You Know (What It Takes)" - might've been just another industry casualty, quickly fading into obscurity stateside due to record company mismanagement and a lack of creative control.

But on the verge of giving up in 2003, she discovered fellow Swedes the Knife's Deep Cuts CD, and reinvigorated by their electro-pop and independent spirit, collaborated with them on the beat-heavy fuck-you to her label "Who’s That Girl."

Soon she founded her own label, Konichiwa, and with producer Klas Åhlund (Teddybears), recorded her fourth studio album, the more electro-based Robyn, due out in the states this spring. Till then, her new The Rakamonie EP gives American audiences a preview of what's to come on tracks like the boombastic confidence booster "Konichiwa Bitches," the dance smash "With Every Heartbeat," and a dancehall cover of the dirty Prince classic "Jack U Off."

Now, a decade after her initial hits, Robyn returns to the US on her own terms for a three-city mini-tour to promote her new album. She'll appear at Popscene on Thursday, Feb. 7. But is this country ready for the pint-sized Swedish bombshell? Robyn was confident in a phone interview earlier this week from her first tour-stop in New York City.

SFBG: What is it like to be back in the US after a decade?

By Matt Sussman

Should bands just stick to their guns and stay broken up? Now that the seemingly impossible has happened and the formerly estranged members of My Bloody Valentine have caught the reunion fever - along with fellow British shut-ins Portishead, who follow on last year’s much ballyhooed reunion of Scottish depressives the Jesus and Mary Chain - what’s to stop other fantasy reformations from coming true? Every other week Pitchfork’s news feed seems to include word of some impending resurrection. Sure, Marr and Morrisey won’t take the stage together until hell freezes over, but honestly, concerts these days really seem like a buyer’s market where any number of groups whose flame was once considered snuffed - whether the Pixies or the Stooges or the Fire Engines - can be seen playing alongside younger bands who openly ape their sound and cite them as formative influences.

Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate wish fulfillment as much as the next music nerd. I thoroughly enjoyed watching the new cross-generational formation of ESG and shaking my ass to “The Beat” played live on a loud sound-system. But I know it’s a far, far cry from hearing the Skroggins sisters and cousin Tito funk up the Paradise Garage’s last party ever. And my friends who saw the Stooges - yeah, I really missed the boat there - couldn’t stop effusing over how much it fucking rocked, despite the fact that Iggy qualifies for the Grand Slam at Denny’s. (At least art punks Wire were being frank when they said that their live dips into their classic first two albums Pink Flag and Chairs Missing were convenient means to get back into proper physical shape. I wish the Spice Girls were as forthcoming since, clearly, this last reunion didn’t exactly turn into the sisterhood of the traveling Cavalli, girl-powered slumber party it was hyped as).

But all griping and throat-clearing aside, if I had the kind of dough that Coachella and All Tommorow’s Parties regularly wave under the noses of some their more resistant would-be reformed headliners, I would send an offer, pronto, to Mizutani Takahashi and his partners in crime in ‘70s underground legends Les Razilles Denudes, who ceased activity around 1996 (even though their first official CD wasn’t released until 1991).

"The truth can finally be told, Marke B.," said Trannyshack mama bear Heklina when I talked to her about her raucous 12-year-old trash-drag weekly at the Stud going dark in August. "I was gonna shut it down on our 10th anniversary -- that's just such a good, round number -- but I was in talks for the past two years with some big time studios about a Trannyshack reality series, so I kept it going. But I guess that's dead in the water now, so it's time to move on." Alas! But hurray for Heklina taking time out to figure herself out. And Trannyshack may return as a monthly, so that would be nice.

There have been so-so-so many disgustingly wonderful Trannyshack moments in the past dozen years to try to remember fully. I think I was at the opening night in 1996, but I was on a lot of meth then, so who the hell knows? Anyway, here are some performances for the ages. I'll be adding more in the next week as soon as I get off my ass and fight my way out of this paper bag hangover (never huff Aquanet people -- it'll make your tongue stick to the roof of your mouth.) And there are a ton of Trannyshack vids on YouTube -- except for some reason they've taken down clips from "Filthy Gorgeous: The Trannyshack Movie" -- I wanted that one where Juanita More and the dwarf get naked for "Put It In My Mouth." Anyway! Enjoy!

Heklina and Glamamore "All is full of love"

Rentecca and Kim Burley, "Two Trannies, One Cup"

By Vanessa K. Carr

This Saturday night (2/9) at the Worldly party at Temple, Cheb i Sabbah -- the Algerian-born, San Francisco-based DJ and producer extraordinaire -- celebrates the release of Devotion, his seventh album on Six Degrees Records.

Recorded and produced entirely in Delhi, Devotion is Cheb i Sabbah's trance/fusion inspired take on raga (Indian classical music) and the rich and diverse musical traditions Hinduism, Sikhism, and Sufi Islam.

What sets Cheb i Sabbah apart from other producers of so-called global electronica --and what must partly explain a worldwide popularity that far exceeds his local fan base -- is his ability to add modern beats to classical music in a way that preserves the integrity of the original forms.

At age 60, Cheb i Sabbah's life has been as much a kaleidoscope of social and artistic movements as his music is of musical and spiritual traditions. In the early 1960s, Cheb i Sabbah was one of many Jews who fled Algeria after its independence and headed to Paris, where he spent his teenage years.

By Todd Lavoie

Ah, what a perfect day! The sun is shining, I'm whirling in the afterglow of Obama's Super Tuesday super-dupers - 13 wins - not bad at all! - and I've just been charmed, bedazzled, and blindsided by a new artist. What could be better? Methinks this dopey grin of mine might remain in place for a while yet. The rain's staying away, our man's got momentum, and I'm ready for another spin of Thao and the Get Down Stay Down's We Brave Bee Stings And All (Kill Rock Stars). Heard it yet? Give it 32 minutes of your time, and try telling me that you don't feel a spring in your step afterwards.

The first thing you're bound to notice is Thao Nguyen's voice: what a voice! The DC-area singer-songwriter boasts a rich, throaty timbre that could probably easily bruise a few hearts if she wanted to, but instead of opting for the soul-baring intensity of, say, Nina Nastasia or Fiona Apple or Cat Power (with whom she shares a few vocal similarities), Nguyen shows off an impish playfulness which is quite refreshing.

Still, there's the occasional touch of sadness - here a vulnerability-offering turn of a phrase, there a crestfallen sigh - as a reminder of the vocalist's potential for breaking hearts. It's a potent mix, this combination of tender ache and winking mischief, and she uses it to tremendous effect. If anything, she might have more in common with Feist's unguarded whimsy than much of anything from the Cat Power catalog, and her jazzy country-folk leanings also call to mind Erin McKeown. Honestly, though - Nguyen sounds quite distinctive here. Once you've heard her, chances are you won't be mistaking her for anyone else afterwards.

Calling all queer Arabs, Middle Easterners, and North Africans (and lusty friends) -- time for another wild, dancefloor-packing Bibi party, habibis!

Yep, it's gonna be packed -- featuring DJs Emancipacion, Bahman, and Honey Soundsystem's own Josh Cheon. PLUS: a burlesque extravaganza with Dirty Phoenix's "Asses of Evil", Happy Hyder as "Saida," belly dancing, and so many hot folks you never knew were Arabs that you'll plotz. Here's a little taste of what you'll hear as you jingle your jangles:

This is a benefit for LGBTI Middle-Eastern, South West Asian & North African (SWANA) community (and is hosted by cutie man-on-the-SWANA-scene Rostam), so Bibi there!

Bibi
Sat/9, 9pm-2am, $15
Eight
1151 Folsom
www.myspace/com/bibisf

By Jamilah King

Almost a week before the media was glowing with tales of unprecedented numbers of youth voters hitting the poles in this week's primary elections, hundreds of young activists and music heads made their power known in Berkeley.

Last week, Cal's Activism Right There conference brought new attention to the intersection of art and politics. The week-long conference culminated in a night of performances last Friday, Feb. 1. The night began with a panel that featured five generations of Cal activists, including Bettina Abtheker and onetime Guardian columnist Jeff Chang, who dissected everything from organizing during the Free Speech Movement to the myth of defeat during the Reagan years. The event also featured sick performances by spoken word artists, including a group from the Philadelphia called Ammo and iLL-Literacy and thieir band the Hi-Lifes.

But the climax of the event came when Zion I took the stage. Savvy bloggers have already detailed the sheer energy of the performance. As dozens - it looked like hundreds - of young folks crowded onto the stage and went dumb in what Zion I called one of their livest performances, the power of the hip-hop generation was felt loud and clear (pardon the poor video quality):

Yes, shake yourself, wake yourself, shiver ye timbers, and don ye olde kinderwhore frock. There's a newish club in town, courtesy of those Neon kids: Debaser, a '90s alternative dance party that has yet to find its firm monthly footing but will nonetheless shake the rafters at the Knockout Saturday, Feb. 9.

Tomorrow's Valentine’s special showcases DJs Jamie Jams (Avery Island), EmDee (Club Neon), and Jessica (Club Lovely); bearer of the best Courtney Love-style baby doll dress gets a gift certificate to Thrift Town. Sorry, no lurid imagery available yet: Jams confesses that lame ole 2D pics fail to convey the "sheer mania" going down. Last month, he says, "We seriously had 300 people in flannels moshing to records and screaming all the words to the Cranberries." Scary! But fun at the same time, no? And never fear, Breeder babies, if you miss this month's, you can always get your Kurt on at the next party on March 1.

Debaser
Saturday, Feb. 9; 10 p.m.; free with flannel before 11 p.m., afterward $5
Knockout
3223 Mission, SF

Wow -- on my second week in rehab I was scaling the drywall with toothpicks under my fingernails. But maybe if you put me in a closed studio packed full of record label plants and some stellar backing musicians (with an intro by Cuba Gooding, Jr.) then perhaps I could have delivered one of those super-extra special TV historical moments that Amy Winehouse provided last night at the Grammys, with the below double medley.

Her face at the end, a mask of screaming "fuck you" extrospective hypocrisy had me screaming "punk-ass goddess!!!"

By Molly Freedenberg

I don't what's going on, but I've been hearing about break-ins happening to bands more and more over the past few months. The latest? SF darlings Diego's Umbrella. Here's the story, and how you can help, in their own words:

"Hello everybody, Unfortunately we had a bit of tragedy strike while we were on tour in the Northwest as our trailer was broken into and a good deal of our equipment was stolen.

The police have no leads as of yet and many times these crimes go unsolved so we are coming to terms with the reality of the situation. As we are still starving musicians this comes as a huge blow and we are trying to reach out to anybody who can help. If you have ever seen us, heard us, met us, danced with us or laughed with us, please consider the smallest donation to help keep Diego's Umbrella playing.

They can be sent to:
Diego's Umbrella
530 Divisadero St. 204
San Francisco, CA 94117

Anything and everything is appreciated

Thanks,
D.U.

To contact:
diegosumbrella@yahoo.com"

DU at the Roxy in L.A. With equipment. See, bands play better that way.

Recently on display at 21 Grand: works by Kerri Lee Johnson (above) and Chela Fielding.

By Dina Maccabee

To be honest, I don't go to 21 Grand that often. I live in San Francisco, and 21 Grand is in Oakland. Plus, I have a tardy streak, and it's really better if you get to shows there in a timely manner, since once the music starts, it tends to have a sit-down-and-listen type of vibe - which is as it should be; performances there are unique enough to deserve an audience's full attention.

Still, it's important for me to know that 21 Grand endures, even if I only enjoy its spartan decor and mismatched chairs in my imagination. Considering recent Grammy hype, I take comfort in the idea that there are songs, pieces, and players that can't be assigned to any nomination category.

Sure, I haven't composed any graphic scores lately for coloratura and Tickle-Me Elmo. But the point is, if I wanted to, I could, and I could probably perform them at 21 Grand. Not to say that, in this case, egalitarianism begets mediocrity. The roll call truly influential underground luminaries and celebrated artists that have visited 21 Grand since it opened in 2000 is too long to list here. Some of my own favorites have included locals like Myra Melford, Ben Goldberg, Phillip Greenlief, ROVA Saxophone Quartet, and Fred Frith.

By Vanessa K. Carr

It's hard to tell sometimes with the French: how much of their dry humor and peculiarity is due to their French-ness, and how much is straight up eccentricity? For French electronic music producer and Tigersushi label manager Joakim (Versatile, K7), it's most definitely the later. Due in part to his inordinately tall, praying mantis-like frame and understated manner, Joakim's idiosyncrasy is what makes his magic; the fact that his fantastically hypnotic live performance is also sort of awkward, for example, makes the experience all the more immediate and real.

Joakim, 31, burst onto the notorious Paris electronic music scene nine or ten years ago by starting encyclopedia music website (and now label) Tigersushi and releasing several of his own tracks on Versatile. Since then, Joakim has released three full-length albums and a storm of 12"s and remixes. His most recent album, Monsters and Silly Songs (K7 2007), spans an impressive range of genres, from electro and hard techno to dark pop and ambient noise. You can stream the full album here.

Joakim and his Ectoplasmic Band perform live this Friday night (2/15) at Fat City, courtesy of Blasthaus, with Portland electro/disco duo Glass Candy; DJ sets by Foreign Islands, Sleazemore, and Honey Soundsystem; and visuals by the fabulous DJ Pee Play.

SFBG: What kind of music did you listen to growing up?

Joakim Bouaziz: I started to grow up very early. I was mostly listening to classical music.

SFBG: Where you classically trained as a musician?

JB: Yeah, but every time I hear that expression, it sounds really weird.

SFBG: Why is that?

JB: It sounds like I've been in the army or something.

Lennon Murphy bares some, if not all.

Boy, I love Yoko Ono: I think the woman is a genius and at 70-something she still rocks it live. (Yep, I can hear the oodles of boomers booing as I type.) But the news discussed in the open letter below, issued on a press release from singer-songwriter Lennon Murphy's people, is totally bizarre:

"Yesterday I received notice that Yoko Ono had filed a law suit against me, asking for a cancellation of the trademark that I own for the name "Lennon." This could very well mean the career that I have worked so hard at, the one you all have believed in, may come to an end. I wanted to address the situation to all my fans because without you I am nothing and it's not fair to everyone who has believed in my music not to be properly informed of this pure bullshit.

"When I first started playing music at 14, I was known for the most part as 'The Lennon Murphy Band.' Not a name I was very fond of, no one could ever agree on anything so it made sense. A few months later some of the shows started being marketed using my full name as well as some that just using 'Lennon.' There was never really any consistency but there was well enough to justify stating that 'Lennon' had been used in fact since 1997. When I signed with Arista Records in 2000 at the age of 18, a marketing decision was made to continue being known just as Lennon. In all honesty, I didn't care. I was just happy to sign a record deal, make an album, and pay my bills.

Deerhoof's Satomi - oh, my. Photo by Ryan Schreiber.

Cool beans! One of the best impromptu in-stores around is happening tonight, Wednesday, Feb. 13, at 6 p.m. at Aquarius Records, 1055 Valencia, SF.

Deerhoof's Satomi is playing a special acoustic set with Tenniscoats' Saya as Oneone. (To read Johnny Ray Huston's review of Tenniscoats' latest CD, Tan-Tan Therapy, go here.) You have been warned - now you have no excuse not to go!

Lob you, Tenniscoats. Courtesy of Fat Planet.

By Todd Lavoie

Who doesn't love the organ? (Ah, hush - you know what I meant! Minds out of the gutter, you dirty birdies - we're talking music here.)

Yes, that organ - y'know, ebony and ivory and the whole bit. Ah, the Hammond - where would we be without it? Somewhere far, far less soulful, that's for sure. Truth be told, if push came to shove, I'd have to stick the instrument up there near the top of my list of sounds-I-can't-do-without. And while I'm in the list-making mood and all, I might as well make myself another one and plunk Spooner Oldham's name atop the upper tier of all-time best organists ever.

Not only did the man help architect the iconic Muscle Shoals soul sound of the '60s - creating some heart-stopping classics in the process - but he's remained just as prolific and influential ever since. Take a trawl through your CD stacks, and chances are, you'll find his name in the liner notes somewhere. Recent examples? Hmm, how about Bettye LaVette's The Scene of the Crime (Anti), Cat Power's Jukebox (Matador), Drive-By Truckers' Brighter Than Creation's Dark (New West)?

Two turntables and a microphone? Hells no, try EIGHT turntables, four mixers, two DJs on two microphones, a looping system, and some big ass speakers. That's what DJ Shadow and Cut Chemist used to rock a capacity crowd at the Regency Ballroom last night. That, and stacks of vintage vinyl 45s (not a computer or CD anywhere in sight), a concept that was the subject of a short informational film that kicked off the show. Technically impressive, yes, but whatever this venerable duo was using to rock the place with funky old school beats and inspired scratching, it worked! Great show.

By Todd Lavoie

You know, I wish I didn't have to say it, I really do. Everything would be so much easier if I simply sucked it up, declared it a no-biggie, and didn't say it. What's done is done, I've told myself I don't know how many times since Tuesday night, so just flick off that OCD switch in your brainbox, buddy. But I can't, unfortunately, so two deep breaths and here goes: I checked out Siouxsie's Mantaray tour show at the Fillmore on Tuesday, Feb. 12, and I must admit that I was more than a bit disappointed.

You know that ole quip, "This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you?" Well, it rings true here, folks, so lest anyone chalk me up as a Siouxsie-hater - and I've met aplenty in my day - or worse yet, a fair-weathered fan, let me say this: Siouxsie has been a fixture in my life for a couple of decades now. Her work with the Banshees kept me sane in the cruel cookie-cutter kingdom of high school. Songs such as "Metal Postcard" and "Swimming Horses" were perennial go-to sources for escape and solace not just as an awkward tenenager, but through college and beyond.

Every time I throw on Boomerang (Geffen) - her exotic marimba-fest with then-husband Budgie as the Creatures - I find the memory-bank floodgates opening up, gushing over with fond memories of friends who felt just as enthralled by her as I did. I reveled and raved when she hooked up with those collab-lovin' blokes in Basement Jaxx to unleash some deliciously unbridled floor-thumping sass with the classic single "Cish Cash." And yes, I went unequivocally ga-ga over Siouxsie's slate-cleaning solo splash, last year's electrifying Mantaray (Universal) - hell, I even blathered and jabbered away about it right here on this blog back in October. So, yeah, I've always considered myself one of the former Susan Dallion's ever-faithful, ready to sing holy, holy to her whenever the opportunity presented itself.

The Monophonics perform at Elbo Room in September at their CD release party.

By Ailene Sankur

Last Saturday I saw the seven-piece, horn-heavy funk band Monophonics at the Boom Boom Room, and they were freaking awesome. But let’s back up. Two summers ago, I saw legendary Bay Area funk jam band Vinyl - if you haven’t yet, go immediately - at the Boom Boom. It was back in my drinking days with a hard-partying boy, and we were both dancing - and fighting - like crazy to their old-school funk meets Latin groove music. I’m a pretty simple girl to please concert-wise: I only ask to feel the music deep in my belly and for it to make me want to move. That night, Vinyl did both.

I’ve been meaning to catch them again, so when I heard that the Monophonics were practically sired by Vinyl - drummer Austin Bohlman of the Monos was asked to bring together the “funkiest guys he knew” to make an opening band for Vinyl - I knew it was time to head back to the ‘Mo.

And was in love by the first blows from the sax. The Monophonics channel Tower of Power, the Meters, and Booker T. and the MGs, and, they would like to remind us, Vinyl.

By Vanessa K. Carr

There's club sandwich and then there's Club Sandwich: one is a chicken-bacon-mayo-double-decker, and the other is a Bay Area show promotion collective committed to hosting all ages shows for under-the-radar local and touring bands. Both layer elements that don't necessarily seem like they'd go together – but are notoriously tasty for that precise reason.

True to form, Club Sandwich shows cross traditional genre boundary lines (noise, punk, folk, etc.), bringing together different subcultures within the Bay Area's underground music scene that don't usually overlap.

Club Sandwich: Raccoo-oo-oon 21 Grand

In the spirit of similar DIY show promoters like Todd P in New York or the Upset the Rhythm collective in the UK, Club Sandwich organizes shows at a host of different venues, ranging from legitimate gallery spaces like ATA in San Francisco and Lobot in Oakland to warehouse spaces where people live – and even an Oakland swimming pool.

"Part of what we do is connect the warehouse and art spaces with touring acts who do not have these intrinsic connections," says Club Sandwich founding member (and Guardian contributor) George Chen.

Club Sandwich: Some Dark Holler at Totally Intense Fractal Mindgaze Hut Oakland

By Alex Felsinger

Ridiculous nicknames were once reserved for football locker-rooms and saloons, but the Internet has given everyone the ability to bestow any embarrassing name they please upon themselves.

In the early days, Whispertown2000 actually went by Vagtown2000, and then thankfully realized their mistake within a year. But the real mystery here is that instead of starting with a clean slate, they decided to stick with the millennium-village theme and changed their moniker to Whispertown2000.

All ragging on their naming ability aside, founder Morgan Nagler's vocal delivery evocates female folk vocalists like Mary Chapin Carpenter, but since their songs include either sparse acoustic guitar or low-key synth over mid-tempo drums, the band becomes more of an indie-rock version of Melissa Etheridge. (Felsinger)

Whispertown2000 plays with She and Him, Adam Stephens, and Emily Jane White. March 2, 8 p.m., $18-$20 (sold out). Great American Music Hall, 859 O’Farrell, SF.

By Alex Felsinger

White Denim's bluesy anthems evoke the Minutemen, but they replace the irreverent attitude with an unrelenting and refined drive found in the likes of Kings of Leon or the Thermals. They've been tearing up every venue in Austin, Texas, a town so saturated with indie rock that only the most unique make their presence known outside of the Sixth Street clubs.

Their only release, a five-song 7-inch EP, takes full advantage of the analog format and provides a rough-around-the-edges barrage of  fist-pumping fun. On the mic, vocalist and guitarist James Petralli yelps and shouts like Lil' Richard while bassist Steve Terebecki writhes and dances along - not only do these guys know how to play rock 'n' roll right, but they can work a crowd like at a 1950s high school prom.

White Denim play Noise Pop with Holy Fuck, A Place to Bury Strangers, and Veil Veil Varnish. Feb. 29, 9 p.m., $10. Bottom of the Hill, 1233 17th St., SF.

By Alex Felsinger

Certainly the Noise Pop band farthest from home, Tel Aviv's Monotonix is also the most distinctive group scheduled to perform. The combo brings sweat, mustaches, and outright stage destruction from Israel, but their music - which sports a hint of the Stone Temple Pilots and some blatant hair-metal influences - takes a back seat to their stage antics.

They're known for dismantling the drum set and flinging the parts across the stage, and sometimes they'll even light small fires while the music disintegrates into cymbal crashes and guitar feedback. If Noise Pop has you sick of perfect-to-the-note performances, Monotonix promises the cure.

Monotonix performs at Noise Pop with Gutter Twins, Great Northern, and Apache. March 1, 8 p.m., $18. Bimbo’s 365 Club, 1025 Columbus, SF. (415) 474-0365.

Curious about what some of the groups we feature in this week's Noise Pop cover story sound like? Anyone remember when reading about music meant that the quality of the writing alone had to convey individual sonic textures? Well, no more! Thank you, Internets! Behold!

Below are some introductory vids -- more info on these stellar performers (as well as a full fest schedule) is available at www.noisepop.com/2008

The Dodos, "Fools"

Holy Fuck, "Milkshake"

MSTRKRFT, "Street Justice"

Always good to hear from the Donnas, last year's Noise Pop fest cover ladies. Bassist Maya Ford checked in via e-mail recently, anticipating the band's show at the Fillmore tonight, Feb. 20, opening for the Hives. Here's what she wrote:

SFBG: The band is putting out their own recordings now, right? How did you come to make that decisio