The Sun City Girls also rise.

Too much time on your hands? Guitar Hero III and Gossip Girl not doing it for you? Have I got some high-quality musical fun for you.

Maria Taylor
The Omaha, Neb., songstress strips it all down for her latest release, the digital EP Savannah Drive, while teaming with Now It's Overhead's Andy LeMaster. Wed/9, 9 p.m., $12-$14. Bottom of the Hill, 1233 17th St., SF. (415) 621-4455.

Sun City Girls and Charles Gocher Tribute
Alan and Richard Bishop keep picking up kudos for their acoustic performances - Will Oldham recently praised their recent Slim's show. This time around they present a 40-minute film of Charles Gocher’s videos, The Handsome Stranger. Thurs/10, 9:30 p.m., $13-$15. Maxwell’s, 341 13th St., Oakl. www.maxwellslounge.com

Who better to embody the spirit of mayhem than a posse of rock-crazed teenaged boys? Especially if it's capital-M Mayhem, which happens to be the name of a package tour of metal bands sponsored by crack-tastic Rockstar Energy Drink?

The show, which hits the Shoreline on Saturday, July 12, with a roster of bands both horns-worthy (Mastodon!) and ehhh (Five Finger Death Punch?), signals the local debut of Black Tide, a quartet whose chief source of notoriety thus far is that they're fronted by a 15-year-old (their oldest member just turned 20). Yep, you read that right: though they're the same age you were when you got your first job at Jamba Juice, this gang of Miami whippersnappers has a deal with Interscope Records and are currently touring the world to promote their new album, Light from Above. What gives? Do we have a metal Hanson on our hands, or what? And would they kill me for suggesting as much (duh)? I called up bassist Zakk Sandler mere hours after Black Tide played their first Mayhem set at tour's kickoff in Seattle, Wash.

Don't you worry 'bout a thing: Stevie Wonder, circa the '70s.

By Joshua Rotter

When two travel four hours to see one of their all-time favorite artists, Stevie Wonder, perform at a venue that should have been a 40-minute drive away - the usual journey from San Francisco - a simple outing becomes a vision quest.

En route to Wonder's Sleep Train Pavilion show in Concord on Tuesday, July 8, amid triple digit temperature, and dehydrated and dampened by sweat in my friend's passenger seat, I was convinced that we would never see the legendary R&B performer. Car accidents and heat-induced area power outages seemed to conspire against us. San Francisco may have been as hot as July elsewhere in the county, but Concord was hotter than hell. We inched closer and closer, but the venue, obscured by rolling hills, wasn't even in eye shot, much less the eighth Wonder of the world.

Whether it was the excess of heat, the lack of liquids and nicotine, or being hopped up on myriad packs of sugary gum, an image of the vocalist suddenly appeared in my mind's eye, and I was set adrift on memory's bliss, imagining much of his career, from the innocent tracks of his early Motown period - "Uptight (Everything's Alright)," "My Cherie Amour," "For Once in My Life" - to his '70s consciousness-spreading classics "Superstition," "Living for the City," and "Higher Ground," through the Stevie of my youth - "I Just Called to Say I Love You," "Part Time Lover," and "That's What Friends Are For," as well as his guest-starring role on The Cosby Show, in which he invites the Huxtables to join him in the studio after his driver hits two in a fender bender. But traffic was too stalled at this point for any such luck to befall me.

Excitable: Matmos' "Exciter Lamp and the Variable Band" from their new album, Supreme Balloon (Matador).

While you were dozing, the rabidly talented Matmos quietly slipped out of town, relocating to Baltimore, MD., from their longtime home in San Francisco's Mission District. I recently caught up with MC (Martin) Schmidt and Drew Daniel as they drove through the Northwest on their current US tour, which stops in SF on July 12 at Great American Music Hall.

SFBG: I've been enjoying the record - it has this great Wendy Carlos/Switched on Bach quality to it, which is a departure, no?

Martin Schmidt: We take turns being in charge of the record – and this was my turn. I wanted to go away from our shtick – like we’re the goofy sound band - and I thought a simple short cut to that would be to make the rule that we would use no microphones. It quickly turned into a synthesizer record from there. We love, love, love, love Wendy Carlos, and I don’t mean just Switched on Bach, we love her compositions as well, like Sonic Seasonings and the Clockwork Orange stuff and so on, so we figured we couldn’t do this without a nod to her.

SFBG: So the Carlos influence was very conscious...?

MS: We’re not DFA but I must admit I think a lot of our music is the result of wearing our record collections on our sleeve. I don’t mean DFA, I mean that guy in LCD Soundysystem. He's the most, "I took all my records and boiled them down…" I think we’re a little like that, too. Guilty, guilty…

Matmos perform "Rainbow Flag" from Supreme Balloon in Baltimore on Feb. 9.

Looking for help: Maria Taylor.

This just in from Taylor Hollingsworth's people:

"Taylor Hollingsworth, sideman for Maria Taylor, had some of his and Maria's gear stolen on Thursday, July 10, on tour promoting Maria's newest EP, Savanna Drive. The band were tucked in for the night in San Francisco when some folks busted out the back window of Maria's van and stole six guitars, two suitcases, two pedals, and some boxes filled with copies of Maria’s newest EP. Luckily, the band recovered one of the bass guitars at a local pawnshop. Here is a list of all the stolen goods:

- Left-handed Red Gretsch Tennessee Rose Guitar.
- Left-handed Martin Acoustic Guitar.
- Right-handed Purple Fender Jazz Bass guitar.
- Right-handed 1976 Black Les Paul Deluxe.
- Right-handed Alvarez acoustic guitar (Hand painted white w/ black swirls. Guitar strap is nailed on.)
- Boss Tuner Pedal.
- Boss Distortion Pedal.

"If you have any information regarding the items listed above, please contact info@saddle-creek.com, jeff@saddle-creek.com, or publicity@teamclermont.com. In the meantime, Maria plans to finish up the last two dates of her tour; one show in LA and one in Sonoma."

EMMYLOU HARRIS
All I Intended to Be
(Nonesuch)

A little context before launching into a rush of superlatives over Emmylou Harris' new stunner, All I Intended to Be: back in 1995, Harris made an abrupt - and enormously successful - career turn with the release of her classic Wrecking Ball (Elektra), a haunting, endlessly layered collection of shimmers and swirls deeply steeped in atmosphere by producer Daniel Lanois. Largely gone was the country traditionalism associated with her most well-known work, and instead she'd offered up one of the decade's boldest, most compellingly adventurous torch-carriers for the "cosmic American music" tag coined by former collaborator Gram Parsons several decades before.

While obviously drawing heavily from folk and country, Wrecking Ball could never fit the purist's definition of either. Rather, this was something truly deserving of the label "visionary," having re-positioned roots music out of the farms and the forests and into the heavens. Nothing else sounded quite like it, and the album not only solidified Harris' standing as a peerless interpreter - refer to her covers of Jimi Hendrix's "May This Be Love" and the Neil Young-penned title track if you need reminding - but it also marked the start of a tremendous creative burst for the artist, both as a songwriter and as a collaborator.

The albums that followed - 2000's Red Dirt Girl and 2003's Stumble Into Grace (both Nonesuch) - showed no let-up in Harris' inspired momentum, serving up considerably fewer cover songs in favor of adventurous, highly personal songwriting. (One obvious highlight: Red Dirt Girl's "Bang The Drum Slowly," a grand, ethereal weeper written for her father, who had passed away around the time of Wrecking Ball.) Teaming up with Luscious Jackson's Jill Cunniff proved to be a particular left-field triumph, as evidenced by the hypnotic groove of 2000's "J'Ai Fait Tout." Meanwhile, both albums carried on with a refined vision of Wrecking Ball's lush whirl-and-eddy aesthetic, with producer Malcolm Burn inserting the occasional drum loop and world-music element into the mix to tremendous effect. In short, the past decade-plus of Harris' career should be considered nothing less than a renaissance - quite wowing, considering the breadth of her catalog, but entirely true. If anything, the vocalist is enjoying a higher profile now than she ever has before.

AIMEE MANN
@#%&*! Smilers
(SuperEgo)

By Todd Lavoie

"Turn that frown upside down! Smile! Be happy!"

Aarggh, I can't stand phony happy-smiley types, either, Aimee. This isn't to say I'm in a constant state of mopeyness - perish the thought! - but I don't exactly see the point in refusing to acknowledge a little melancholia when it sets in from time to time. Why deny it if I'm feeling it? I used to work with someone who would carp and crow away - practically shouting up into the sound system overhead - in response to every song which failed to blow rainbow-pony kisses for its entire three-minute duration. Upon hearing even the faintest allusion to sadness or anger or frustration, away she'd go with cries of, "Oh, why can't you just be happy!" See, it's as simple as that: paint on a smile and greet the world grinning from ear to ear. Flick of the switch. Life as one endless loop of Katrina and the Waves' "Walking on Sunshine."

Mann's new album, @#%&*! Smilers, probably won't win the heart of my former co-worker - wherever she may be, blinders on and her frown firmly fixed upside down - but it probably will do all sorts of fiendishly wonderful things to the hearts of those who aren't afraid to recognize the scrapes, stumbles, and scabby knees of life. The title alone should be a tip-off - a snide, willfully rude poke with a sharp stick into the eyes of ever-cheerful folks who insist upon everyone smiling along with them, it practically revels in antagonizing the superficial shiny-happy pop song.

Aimee Mann takes the "Freeway."

Heeb mag's Diamond Days - just what brings it to the Bay from Brooklyn? There's no denying that the lineup is doozy, including Audacity, Fences, Glitter Wizard, Thee Makeout Party, Tiny Vipers, Ellen Mary McGee, and Young Animals, as well as a slew of local talents. I traded e-mails with Heeb magazine publisher Josh Neuman and associate editor Amy Westervelt to find out more.

SFBG: How did Diamond Days originate?

Amy Westervelt: It started last year in Brooklyn as sort of a throw-back to music shows you and your friends might have put together in high school or college. One of Heeb's contributing editors, Jay Diamond, grew up in the ‘burbs of Chicago playing in bands and putting together shows and he wanted to recreate that fun, but focus it on really great local bands in Brooklyn. After the first fest, we really wanted to recreate it in different parts of the country.

Josh Neuman: The fest is partially named in honor of Jay, and partially an homage to a Vashti Bunyan song, which is everything a summer song should be.

SFBG: Why did it move from Brooklyn to Oakland this year?

The Long Winters try on a nouvelle vague guise.

What to do, when not sailing down a Mission Creek or taking a shine to Diamond Days? A few more shows for you...

The Buckets
'Member alt-country? Well, it remembers you. And one of SF's '90s-era main proponents the Buckets returns with a double CD to celebrate. With the Great Auk and Sister Exister. Thurs/17, 8:30 p.m., $10. Cafe du Nord, 2170 Market St., SF. (415) 861-5016.

The Long Winters
The new Putting the Days to Bed (Barsuk) dares to reach for the epic amid country-rock guitars. Thurs/17, 9 p.m., $15. Independent, 628 Divisadero, SF. (415) 771-1422.

Joseph Arthur
Author, Arthur! You can’t stop the music: the singer-songwriter has unleashed four EPs leading up to the forthcoming album, Temporary People (Lonely Astronaut). Fri/18, 9 p.m., $20. Great American Music Hall, 859 O’Farrell, SF. (415) 885-0750.

GRUPO FANTASMA
Sonidos Gold
(Aire Sol/ High Wire Music)

By Todd Lavoie

Freshly sparkled with Prince's glittering purple seal of approval, Austin's tireless Latin funk orchestra Grupo Fantasma pushes onward with their crowd-amassing trajectory on Sonidos Gold, a floor-burning 12-track collection of hip-shakers and provocative grooves.

Having recently enjoyed a much-deserved surge of international exposure - thanks largely to Prince's ringing endorsement and the high-profile supporting-band gigs that followed - the 10-member soul machine arrives more confident than ever on this, their fourth album. The disc might also be the most faithful in capturing the joyous, body-liberating ebullience of the band's live performances. (And while we're on the subject of their shows: You must see them, case closed. I caught Grupo with a former Austinite friend at Slim's here back in February, and they were complete and utter sweat-soaking bliss.)

Sonidos Gold exudes plenty of room-filling warmth, and guitarist Adrian Quesada's production plunks the listener directly on the dancefloor, right in the sweet spot between the hot-pepper horn section and the mighty rumble of congas and timbales. While I'm sure these folks picked up some tricks from Prince on the road, I'm beginning to wonder if maybe the Purple One himself might be taking a few notes as well…

Scribbling scion Erykah Badu. Photo by Marc Baptiste.

By Jamilah King

Miss Erykah Badu recently wrote those fabulously succinct words to anyone who had the nerve to question the honor of her motherhood. Amid rumors that she's pregnant for a third time, this time by Jay Electronica, (Andre 3000 and DOC were the fathers of her first two), some folks threw criticism her way for having a third child "out of wedlock." (What the fuck does this mean, anyway?)

Badu sounded off on Okayplayer, saying:

"HOW DARE YOU DISRESPECT THE QUEENDOM...AND MY CHILDREN AND MY INTELLIGENCE. What is Marriage? Who Is The Judge? i am an excellent mother and resent all of the negative comments and insults on my character. I AM COMPLETE WITH OR WITHOUT A PARTNER AND WILL ALWAYS BE ...I PUT MUCH TIME AND THOUGHT INTO HAVING AND RAISING MY CHILDREN. IVE HAD THE HONORS OF HAVING 2 HOME BIRTHS AND 2 WONDERFUL PARTNERS BY MY SIDE... F*CK OFF… WHO NEEDS YOU ….CERTAINLY NOT ME … KICK ROCKS … CALL TYRONE … PACK LIGHT …. BITE ME...and if this post is not clear, kiss my placenta"

Read the entire response here. It doesn't surprise me at all that one of the most innovative mainstream musicians of our time - who happens to have dated and/or had children with similarly skilled artists - gets attacked because she's a black woman who dates black men and creates hip-hop. She has two kids who are never paraded around in the media, a relatively quiet private life and continues to make dope ass music. Funny how white celebrities like Angelina Jolie can adopt brown babies from orphanages around the world, move to so-called exotic countries to give birth to biological kids, put out a slew of lackluster films, and be heralded as Wonder Mom.

As many if not all know by now, Trannyshack, revered weekly trash-drag temple of glittery gore from the planet Thrift Town, is ending after 12 years of tranny antics (trantics?). Head honchette Heklina revealed to me the exact reasons why in a candid interview back in early February -- and I didn't even have to score her any hot sex with quadriplegic Desert Storm veterans in return! She's magnanimous. I'm scoopy. We traded memories.

Right now, Trannyshack's counting down to its close with a series of four command performance nights featuring fave messy queens from the present and past. That will be followed by a ginormous, absolutely ginormous, Trannyshack Kiss-Off Party at the Regency Center on August 23. This shindig will double as this year's famed Trannyshack Pageant as well, and will encompass appearances by Lady Bunny, Justin Bond, Lady Miss Kier, Ana Matronic, and more. I smell glorious disas-tears.

Let's leave this off with the incredible Glamamore's (NSFW maybe!) performance of Bjork's "Pagan Poetry."

JOAN AS POLICEWOMAN
To Survive
(Cheap Lullaby/ Reveal)

By Todd Lavoie

Joan Wasser, the heartstring-hitting sharpshooter behind the Joan as Policewoman tag, has offered a simple but irrefutable platform for the elegant, emotionally direct songwriting, one that made her 2006 debut, Real Life (Reveal), such a blindsiding experience: “Beauty is the new punk rock.”

It’s an ear-tugging slogan, to be sure, but the album’s ravishing arrangements and carefully nuanced confessionals offered the goods to back up her capital-lettered claim. Whirling bits of soul music, punk and post-punk attitude, and AM-radio singer-songwriter pop into shimmering string-and-piano-centered structures that felt comfortingly familiar and yet still difficult to compare, Wasser easily won over seekers of challenging, interactive pop music with swooners such as “Feed The Light” and “We Don’t Own It.”

With relatively few contemporaries guided by a similar aesthetic, the easiest point of comparison might be Antony and the Johnsons. In fact, the aforementioned’s Antony Hegarty even joined Wasser on what could arguably be Real Life’s most riveting highlight, the fiery duet “I Defy.” Otherwise, the list of artists who could truly be considered kindred spirits is a mighty short one; fittingly enough, two of them, fellow sensitive souls Rufus Wainwright and David Sylvian, both appear on To Survive, the latest Joan as Policewoman venture.

A clip of Janet Jackson's offending "malfunction."

By Laura Mojonnier

Associated Press reported today that a US federal appeals court dismissed a $550,000 indecency fine issued to CBS after Janet Jackson's infamous "wardrobe malfunction" during the 2004 Superbowl halftime show.

According to the AP, the three-judge panel ruled earlier today that the Federal Communications Commission "acted arbitrarily and capriciously" when issuing the fine, as "CBS's broadcast of a nine-sixteenths of one second glimpse of a bare female breast" did not meet the commission's long held standards for "actionable indecency."

SIGUR ROS
Med Sud I Eyrum Vid Spilum Endalaust
(XL)

By Ian Ferguson

Almost a decade has passed since Sigur Ros’ 1999 release Ágætis Byrjun (Fat Cat/Smekkleysa) established itself as a masterful work. Arriving after two other acclaimed albums, the band's Med Sud I Eyrum Vid Spilum Endalaust (XL), sounds like its most celebratory release to date - a triumphant recording fittingly produced by a group whose name translates as “Victory Rose.”

The first track boldly opens the disc. Evoking images of a Roman military parade, four guitar chords, panned alternately across the right then left speaker, count down to youths cartwheeling and dancing in pristine white togas, singing “lalalala” in high falsetto. Picture them spreading flower petals for the approaching processional, as Sigur Ros delivers a hard-driving drum pulse and soldiers, fists beaten against shields, boots stamped in time upon the ground, march double-time. Lead vocalist Jon Thor Birgisson sings above all this -- the returning hero, chariot-borne, composed, able to silence his soldiers, or excite their enthusiasm. The sound supports him as much as a parade would its hero, home to claim his triumph.

The following track, “Inní mér syngur vitleysingur,” continues the theme, opening with an Olympic horn fanfare sample taken from faded analog tape so pale that the first track, “Gobbledigook,” stands out in brilliant contrast. The first song sounds so gloriously triumphant that it speaks more to the band’s past achievements than to the rest of the album, which establishes the timbre of its voice in the second track. Appropriate to Sigur Ros' homeland, it's a timbre of ice.

By Laura Mojonnier

As chief songwriter of England's longest-declining band, Oasis, Noel Gallagher is prone to saying controversial things that ignite highly amusing faux-feuds. The charge this time: telling the BBC that Jay-Z headlining Glastonbury, a festival with "a tradition of guitar music," was a bad idea. "I'm not having hip-hop at Glastonbury," he lamented. "It's wrong."

Thankfully for the sake of our entertainment, Jay-Z responded the best way he knew how: by opening his June 28 festival set with the shittiest rendition of "Wonderwall" ever performed live (Oasis shows included). Occasionally strumming an electric guitar that hung around his neck, Jay-Z led the crowd in a singalong before segueing to "99 Problems."

This in from the (((folkYEAH!))) producers:

(((folkYEAH!))) presents in Big Sur
FESTIVAL IN THE FOREST
FERNWOOD RESORT in the CAMPGROUND
Friday, Sept. 26, and Saturday, Sept. 27
(Benefiting the All Volunteer Big Sur Fire Brigade)

Friday starting at 4 p.m. at the outdoor stage (the event includes indoor and outdoor stages)
Entrance Band (Fri. and Sat. sets)
Megapuss (featuring Devendra Banhart)
Citay
Matt Baldwin Electric Band
Lemonade
Tussle
Fools Gold
White Hills

Saturday starting at high noon on the outdoor stage
Silver Jews
Port O'Brien
Beach House
Entrance Band
The Fresh and Onlys
Sleepy Sun
Little Joy (with Fabrizio Moretti of the Strokes)
Little Wings
Sam Flax Keener Band
The Parsons Red Heads
Palo Colorado
Stay High

More to be announced.

note: A special fire brigade benefit is also planned for Sunday, Sept. 28, with Pegi Young Band and very special guests.

MOB vs. the world? Mission of Burma at Pitchfork. Photo by Kevin Tighe.

By K. Tighe

We arrived in Chicago's Union Park at the tail end of a 15-hour drive. Or, more specifically, the tale end of a one 15-hour drive, one backwoods Maryland carnival crabcake, one unfortunate bout of heat stroke, 12 too many energy drinks, three regretful sausage biscuits, and yet another 15-hour drive. But we arrived.

Just in time to hear the delightfully over-the-top punk whine of "All I wanted was a Pepsi" floating over from the Connector stage. Soon Mission of Burma's Roger Miller, after chiding himself for being too old, was telling the patchy crowd, "Everybody put on your dancing shoes," before knocking out a few strums and reconsidering, "OK, take 'em back off. It seemed like such a good idea to do that one, but as everybody out there knows, the next song is …"

Why does track order matter? Because this was Friday night, July 18, at the Pitchfork Music Festival, and the influential Boston post-punks had been invited by All Tomorrow Parties' "Don't Look Back" series to enlighten a new generation of hipsters with their 1982 opus, Vs. Enlighten they did: although the audience was still filtering in, Mission of Burma wooed even the reluctant Jumbo-tron watchers waiting for Public Enemy on the Aluminum stage.

Sucking? Vampire Weekend. All photos by Matt Wysocki.

By K. Tighe

I'm a bit of an evil sister. You see, I promised my little bro a good time during Pitchfork Music Festival. Kevin (the other K. Tighe), who is your typical unemployed drummer, flew in from Arizona under the auspice of a fun-filled weekend of great music - I never told him he'd have to work for it. This makes him something of an unwilling assistant, but since he's preconditioned to do whatever his big sister tells him to, this also makes him quite abiding. So from here on out, we'll call him my abiding assistant. His chief responsibilities include fetching beer, letting me know whenever the drummer fucks up, and lighting my cigarettes. Oh, and making breakfast. He's a genius with eggs, which is why we didn't arrive at the fest until the Caribou set was almost over.

It was clear the Caribou set went over remarkably well, and we managed to catch the crowd's favorable reaction to the last songs as we headed over to the Aluminum stage for Fleet Foxes. It had rained all morning, leaving Union Park a soggy mess. Festival organizers attempted to clean things up a bit with wood chips and sod, but with little success. An ominous prairie sky loomed overhead as the Seattle quintet took the stage.

Fleet Foxes shine on.

The harmony-laden Fleet Foxes seem like they'd do better on a sunny day, but once they broke into the a capella serenade of "Sun Giant," an ode to seasonal changes that rings like gospel and swells like field music, it was clear that undesirable weather wasn't going to hold them back. Some of the festival's trademark sound difficulties began to crop up toward the beginning of the set, but they quickly subsided - due, in no small part, to a massive effort on behalf of festival organizers to completely overhaul and improve the sound this year, which made an enormous difference throughout the weekend. Fleet Foxes spent the rest of the set doing their vest-wearing shaggy brethren proud, with tunes that managed to conjure notes from the Beach Boys as much as Crosby, Stills, and Nash. The crowd reaction was strong throughout, but swelled considerably during the impressive harmony showcase of "White Winter Hymnal."

Sax machine: Paul Costuros, left, with his band Death Sentence: Panda!

This just in from Paul Costuros of Death Sentence: Panda!, Murder Murder, Total Shutdown, et al:

"Welcome to the first installment of Buddies! A bunch of friends hanging out in a bar (the Knockout) playing their five favorite songs. Not genre specific so you might hear Wolf Eyes' "Stabbed in the Face" played next to Britney Spears' "The Zone" (both good songs).

"This Monday, July 28, free at the Knockout from 10 p.m.-2 a.m., will be the following people (in no particular order):"

Chris Rolls
Eric Bauer
Eric Landmark
Eric Park
Justin Labo
Lila Holland
Diana Hayes
Dave Hoag
Emily Jocson
Cristina Jocson
Michael Doyle
Ashley Hibbs
Paul Allan
Rob Spector
Sarah Bernat
Kevin Woodruff
Antonio
and maybe Jenny Hoyston and/or Ellie Erickson

Sweet: Apples in Stereo. Photo by Matt Wysocki.

By K. Tighe

At every festival, I can't help but keeping a running contest in my head. Friday night, July 18, went to Public Enemy, but Mission of Burma was only a smidge behind. Saturday, July 19, is a bit more complicated: !!! gave a raucous, undeniably fun showing, but Jarvis Cocker's sleek, seasoned set was unforgettable. Of course, I've seen !!! countless times, and have seen them perform better countless times, and Jarvis was stubborn with the Pulp catalog - which means Saturday goes to Fleet Foxes, whose festival-suited, harmony-packed performance gained them thousands of fans in the span of 45 minutes.

Sunday, July 20, is a whole different animal: the final day of Pitchfork Music Festival 2008 boasts a lineup that no doubt kept many an indecisive hipster tossing in bed on Saturday night. With most of the heat packed at the end of the night, there was either going to be a shitload of running around or a lot of regrets.

Abiding Assistant and I arrived at the park just as Boris began. Between the fog machine sputtering in the blazing sun, the tight, a special appearance by guitarist Michio Kurihara (who collaborated with the trio on Rainbow, and the drummer who dove from behind a bright red kit into the crowd - he got some impressive distance, too - it's safe to say that Boris effectively brought the rock. After the Japanese metal trio left the stage I saw something I hadn't seen in years: a genuine call for an encore.

Forget about Michael Kors and judge for yourself:

RON SEXSMITH
Exit Strategy Of The Soul
(Yep Roc)

By Todd Lavoie

Modesty, thy name is Ron Sexsmith. Or, that's the way it seems from what I've read, anyway. The Toronto singer-songwriter has repeatedly, gracefully brushed aside assertions by others that his work is under-recognized, stating in interviews that he has never expected a larger audience and is merely grateful for those who have discovered his work.

As wonderfully "aw, shucks" in spirit as Sexsmith's replies might be, there's something criminal about such a careful craftsman of sharp, insightful pop songs remaining so consistently underneath the radar over the course of a double-decade-plus career. Hell, both Elvis Costello and Paul McCartney - who, if memory serves me well, seem to have penned a couple of catchy numbers themselves over the years - have lavished praise upon the guy. That should count for something, right?

Still, things are looking up: Sexsmith's profile has been given a nice little nudge as of late, thanks to his connection with fellow Canadian vocalist (Leslie) Feist. His lovely composition "Secret Heart" - originally on his 1995 self-titled major-label debut on Interscope, released a full decade after self-issuing his first cassette - was treated to an equally resplendent read on Feist's 2005 breakthrough Let It Die (Arts and Crafts/Cherrytree/Interscope/Universal).

Ah, Tara Jane O'Neil - how I admired her indie rock Rodan project from afar and dug her raw-as-rain country-folk Retsin collaboration with Cynthia Nelson. Now the currently Portland, Ore., resident is back in town and showing off all sides of her fine, multi-faceted self: she'll showcase her latest acoustic musings - found on **In Circles** (Touch and Go) - at Hemlock Tavern on Saturday, Aug. 2; exhibiting her artwork alongside pieces by Vanessa Renwick at Needles and Pens' "Cackle Cackle Rackle," which opens Friday, Aug. 1; and, word has it, will give a "magical PowerPoint presentation" at Sadies Flying Elephant, Sunday Aug. 3. Whew. Plenty of opps to catch the woman who makes "evocative dream music based on the buzz and hum of the city’s late night symphonies" (so says The Wire).

TARA JANE O'NEIL
With PALMS and Katy Davidson
Sat/2, 9:30 p.m., $7
Hemlock Tavern
1131 Polk, SF
(415) 923-0923