By Ariel Soto

"Kylie, Kylie, Kylie!" shrieked the ecstatic crowd on September 30 as Kylie Minogue, riding a gigantic gold skull, descended to the stage to start the what was the beginning of her very first US tour. From the stunning laser show to her edgy geometric costume, Kylie awed her fans with her energy and hot dance moves. The audience, which was largely dominated by beautiful boys and their beautiful boyfriends, were obvious devotees of the pop diva, and many were decked out in feathers, sequins and glitter. She must have known she would find hella love in the Bay Area and therefore honored us with the first show on her US tour. It's inspiring to see someone in her 40s be so sexy and confident on stage. You go, Kylie! Take on the US -- you'll have no problem winning over every last one of us!

Text and photos by Ariel Soto

Continuing with the constant flow of summer concerts, the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival constructed five stages in Golden Gate Park and brought three days of music for one of the most popular events of the summer. The stages, with quirky names like the Rooster and Banjo, hosted musicians whose tunes ranged from hometown bluegrass to music that could have backed a Ford truck commercial. The crowds were rather overwhelming, with huge human traffic jams of people
trying to get from one stage to the next. But despite the throngs of fans, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, soaking up the last bits of Indian summer sunshine and throwing back more than a couple bottles of beers.

By Marke B.

Mr. Marcus, RIP. Photo from ebar.com

This isn't about music per se -- let's not even go there with this one -- but it IS about nightlife. Mister Marcus, who for decades tirelessly covered the international, national, local, spiritual, and intergalactic leather scenes has passed away at the age of 77. He had been hospitalized for some time for diabetes and arteriosclerosis.

Marcus wrote for the Bay Area Reporter, and I pretty much grew up on his weekly (sometimes bi-weekly) dispatches. Seriously, he knew EVERYTHING about the leather scene, documenting all the sash winners and losers, the hopefuls and string-pullers, and, yes, sassy sassy gossip. (Here's one of his recent columns, that he wrote when he was 75, that shows off his breadth of knowledge.) Being a bit cantankerous on occasion, he also didn't hesitate to cry foul or use his position to push for transparency and change on the leather circuit. At times he was controversial -- but if you know any leather queens, you know know that the freakin' color of M&M's in a refreshment bowl at a charitable reception can be controversial. I'm not saying they're fussy, but ....

.... but the community is also very loving. When I was a hardcore leather boy, Mr. Marcus -- who was always busy -- was incredibly encouraging and always took time to talk. (Another leather legend who recently passed, Daddy Alan Selby, "Mr. S" himself, took me under his wing and was an amazing mentor.) Mr. Marcus helped bind his community with his reports and nudges, and I fear its continued atomization now.

I also fear for the future of nightlife writing in this town. There are very few of us regular nightlife commentators left, even in the Blog Age -- people who get creative and critical with their takes on parties and after-hours developments, even as they can't stop dancing or performing or bringing it. Posting pictures of your nights out to Facebook doesn't count. I hope people continued to be inspired by Marcus' dedication to a scene, and begin to document and foster their own through choice words.

By Nicole Gluckstern

The Raincoats. All photos by Morlock E.

Punk rock will never die, but as the years go by, old school punks often do wind up slowing down a bit. They start families, work at software companies or film studios, pay for rent and food -- all acts of respectable members of society. But just because you get a full-time job doesn’t mean you have to give up rock forever, you just have to cut back to part-time. At least that’s the premise that LA’s Part Time Punks club night founders Michael Stock and Benjamin White might have begun with when they threw their first party of late '70s-early '80s post-punk music in 2005.

Savage Republic

With time-tested acts such as the Slits, the Avengers, and Savage Republic and an impressive collection of URGH!-era rekkids to spin, the Part Time Punks have gained an eager following among older fans who were there to begin with, and younger ones who just wish they’d been. Both versions of fan were in broad attendance Friday at the Mezzanine, when the PTP crew and an impressive slew of live acts, including Joy Division peers Section 25, and the elusive, influential Raincoats, stormed the stage for the first-ever Part Time Punks mini-fest away from home.

Viv Albertine

We get there just as San Francisco-based Magic Bullets are wrapping up their set, and are treated instead to a sharp DJ set which barrels down post-punk memory lane with fierce momentum. Viv Albertine, formerly of the Slits, armed with just her guitar and a slew of Sid Vicious stories, takes the stage next. Her often-confessional lyrics about the unwelcome passage of time, orgasmic dysfunction, heroin needles, and the lonely artist’s life were no less unflinching than any Slits ode to self-destructive boys and shoplifting, though the sheer ferocity of the delivery has been taken down a notch.

As West Fest approaches, Noise is showcasing some of the 18 different concert posters created for the event, which takes place on Sunday, October 25 at Golden Gate Park.

Here's a poster by Wendy Wright:

By Dan Abbott

Skyler Fell, who performed at the SF Accordion Club's September gathering.

In an age of accelerating cultural fusion and mutation, it should come as no surprise that the accordion has undergone something of a renaissance. A staple of musical traditions from as far afield as Eastern Europe, Mexico, and Italy, the various permutations of the squeezebox has resurfaced with renewed vigor. The San Francisco Bay Area has become something of a hub for this rebirth, aided by both its location at the hub of cultural ley lines and its rich history as – believe it or not – an accordion exporting powerhouse.

Frank Montoro, president of the, San Francisco Accordion Club has watched accordion culture wax and wane with the times. Until the middle of the 20th century, there were at least five accordion factories churning out instruments in North Beach alone, Montoro says, mostly by Italians who’d brought generations of craft knowledge over from the Old Country.

“I watched my accordion being built, back in the ‘40s,” he remembers fondly. The advent of rock’n’roll and mass culture swept much of the accordion’s prestige (and visibility) away, Montoro says, until it seemed an ethnic relic, the obscure province of nerds, wedding music and Weird Al Yankovic. “Times have changed,” the octogenarian Montoro says. “If you like Swedish music, where are you going to go?”

Hope is not dead for all those of us who liked to deaden/enliven our brain cells by listening to Energy 92.7 FM's unique mix of gay-friendly chatter and techno-pop-80s- whatever muzak.

Fernando and Greg just announced via Facebook, "Listen to Fernando and Greg beginning next week...find out where very soon!"

By Michael Krimper

I tried to curb my anticipation for Gil Scott-Heron’s performance at the recently made-over Regency Ballroom (10/2/200). But how could I? I wanted him to amaze, to enrapture with his musical poetics, and most secretly, to redeem my nebulous view of a ‘70s-era politicized soulfulness unrivaled by today’s musicianship. It’s an idealistic and surely ridiculous image we children of the ‘80s have cultivated of the decade before ours. But it’s one so ingrained and endlessly cited that we can’t seem to shake free of it.

While Los Angeles revival funk band Orgone grooved (peep their solid cover of “Funky Nassau”), singer Fanny Franklin expressed equal excitement about bearing witness to the legend. And when Scott-Heron finally stepped onto stage, strutting choppily to the microphone, the audience erupted in wailing applause and shouts. He looked older and moved with certain difficulty, his body appearing thin underneath his loose-fitting clothes. His face was angular and gaunt, with patches of gray hair pouring from the sides of his hat and from his chin. A lady sitting in front of me asked incredulously if that old man indeed was Gil. I nodded with certainty but really had no idea. After all, he’s hardly recognizable compared to his younger self clad with the iconic Afro and psychedelic garb.

Gil Scott-Heron. Photo from allaboutjazz.com


Gil Scott-Heron in the '70s.

Today, it’s a rare occurrence to see Gil Scott-Heron. He has been in and out of prison for the past decade on drug and parole transgression charges. Scott-Heron perhaps indirectly addressed rumors about his well-being when he told the crowd at Regency that a media frenzy on the Internet continues to concoct all sorts of chimeras about his life.

By Kimberly Chun

The tao of Au, the Wu of a Killah -- that’s the spirit. More sounds to sit with and move to.

AU - RR vs. D from Rainbow Dropshadow on Vimeo.

Au
Toy pianos, ethereal vocals, and Portland, Ore.-steeped experimentation. With Why?, Mount Eerie, and Serengeti and Polyphonic. Sat/17, 9 p.m., $16. Great American Music Hall, 859 O’Farrell, SF. (415) 885-0750.

Dan Deacon
The high Deacon of the laptop gospel preaches to the choir. With Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, Teeth Mountain, and Nuclear Power Pants. Sat/17, 9 p.m., $10. Mezzanine, 444 Jessie, SF. (415) 820-9669.

Dan Deacon, above, leads the mob, and a fiery dusk off Treasure Isle. All photos by Kimberly Chun.

By Kimberly Chun

Gawg-eous. And I mean both Dan Deacon - in full-tilt follow-me-folks mode and the jaw-dangler of a sunset Saturday night, Oct. 17, at this year's Treasure Island Music Festival. So sad that I couldn't get there early enough to catch Crown City Rockers and Federico Aubele and stumbled out too early to see alphabet-soup Bridge Stage acts MSTRKRFT and MGMT - nevertheless here are a few watercolor, waterside memories of the happenings mid-fest.

You gots to hand it to Dan Deacon - the man knows how to power out a show, either solo or with his current 12-piece Dan Deacon Ensemble. "We can get in the zone in three minutes!" yelped Deacon happily - ever the leader of the flock as he sounded out the air-guitar/air-conductor hand gestures shortly before his set. Way to get the energy up: the band entered on the waves of excitement generated by a stage-diving/ascending chum, who was carried from the audience and deposited onstage. And what a stage - crammed with musicians and sidekicks like the cavorting feller in the orange dot costume and a note-worthy three-piece drum ensemble. Switching it up from jumpy happy beats to piping drone, the outfit sounded for all the world like a spazz-tastic, kiddie digi-hardcore orchestra. Not all of Deacon's endeavors were a raging success - but try organizing a dance contest at the drop of Gucci-patterned fedora - and he continues to sound much better up close and on record than live (and across the Treasure Island compound) - but the man got the soiree started for sure.

The Streets followed, praising the crowd for its fashion-forward garb ("You also look great with it off!") and waxing humble about his own perpetual all-black ensemble and muttering about how well it hides dirt. The UK rapper was in a sexy yet unpredictable mood - dissing Sacramento, recalling his stage dive from a Fillmore balcony box, and commenting on the fact Treasure Isle is known for its solid sounds. At one point, he urged a woman perched on a pal's shoulders to take off her top while also chiding her for blocking the view of other fans. Beatles riffs floated over it all.

Later DJ Krush provided future-beats before for dinnertime while LTJ Bukem broke those beats and picked up the pace. As the sun set in flamingo pinks and outrageous purples, Brazilian Girls provided surprisingly good, if ditzy fun, closing their well-played set with a paean to - did I hear right - pussies as audience members climbed onstage to shimmy.

Other sights: the sad view of a tree broken by some jerk-offs who were watching the Streets from its branches. Puts a damper on the eco-friendly air surrounding the fest, no? A chainsaw came out as we bystanders gawked off to the side (one comment overheard: "Who cares?"). We found respite in the art booths on the adult midway, where we hung out stories written out on hand-painted petals in the Scales Project installation and checked out the live graf art. Sorry signs of the apocalypse: skate-board-ready Megan Fox and Kate Moss tributes.

...and you can listen to their podcast here

Folk this: Decemberists' Colin Meloy. All photos by Kimberly Chun.

By Kimberly Chun

Ah, washing up on Treasure Isle late in the day Sunday, Oct. 18, seemed like the way - though it was a bummer to miss Vetiver, Beirut, et al. The short and sweet stuff: it was considerably colder and foggier than Saturday, so it was in everybody's best interest to huddle together en masse while Walkmen and then the Decemberists played. And wow, what fabulous animations accompanied the Portland, Ore., band's set - tumbling with wild things, pyramids, geometrics, landscapes of jewel-like mountains and obelisks, star fields, and the like. The perfect accompaniment to the delicate Brit folk and outright psych-prog the band is purveying these days: the standout was the title track of this year's The Hazards of Love album (Capitol).

Greening of YLT: Yo La Tengo's Ira Kaplan, right, and James McNew.

The following set by Yo La Tengo seemed almost anticlimactic, though you had to appreciate the strenuous noise jams the band is rolling out. Ira Kaplan helmed the keyboard from the start then switched over to guitar as the combo abruptly segued into "Stockholm Syndrome," with James McNew on falsetto vocals. Up next, just as quickly: the loveable, cacophonous "Here to Fall" off YLT's new Popular Songs (Matador).

Man in a bubble: Flaming Lips in utero.

The wait was completely worth it, as we tarried in the photo pit (and my camera decided to die on me) and Wayne Coyne and the Flaming Lips set up on the main stage. All-girl backup vocalists with bunny ears, the Lips busting through the pull-apart screen at the exact do-go-there spot where a massive go-go girl opened her legs. (Coyne rolled out in his big bubble, followed by a stage-diving bunny.) Ah, no one delivers a show like FL (though there was a health emergency up front where I was -- the frontman later asked to see if the lady taken off was OK). Coyne offered an opening monologue about how the group is an honorary SF band of sorts since the first show they ever played was at the beloved ole I-Beam in the Haight. We'll take 'em.

As West Fest approaches, Noise is showcasing some of the 18 different concert posters created for the event, which takes place on Sunday, October 25 at Golden Gate Park. Take a gander ...

Poster by D. Hughston and G. Johnson

Poster by Mike Dolgushkin

Poster by Michael V. Rios

Poster by Pat Ryan

By Marke B.

Dig those delicious vintage issues of Omni magazine out of your ma's closet and crack back open that copy of Cosmos -- from melodysheep on YouTube comes this lovely, trip-hoppy musical exploration of Carl Sagan and Stephen Hawking's popular scientific output.

PS: I am starting a club called OMNI immediately:

By Kimberly Chun

We got places to go, people to see, crazy sounds to hear -- more for your show-going pleasure and more than we could fit in print.

BrakesBrakesBrakes
Cheney better watch himself when the Brighton, England, combo steps on it. With Ezra Furman and the Harpoons and Rachel Goodrich. Wed/21, 8 p.m., $10-$12. Rickshaw Stop, 155 Fell, SF. (415) 861-2011.

Fu Manchu and Dirty Power
Heaviness is as heaviness does -- with the added oomph of the SF-bred Power brokers. With the Solid. Wed/21, 8:30 p.m., $21. Bottom of the Hill, 1233 17th St., SF. (415) 621-4455.

As West Fest approaches, Noise is showcasing some of the many different concert posters created for the 40th anniversary of Woodstock tribute, which takes place on Sunday, October 25 at Golden Gate Park. It's free! Check out Johnny Ray Huston's article about it all and take a gander ...

Poster by Bob Masse

Poster by Burray Olson

Poster by Stanley Mouse

By Marke B

Bring Black Back to the Castro !! from STOP AIDS Project on Vimeo.

Does the title of this post shock you? It shocks me and I wrote it! That's because, if you've visited our faery-tailed gay wonderland of late (like, the past 30 years), you may have noticed a somewhat shocking lack of color on the streets and in the bars. Well, StopAIDS has been aiming to remedy that with OUR LOVE, a pretty rad outreach program to black gay men, which celebrates its 10th anniversary with, what else, a party this Sunday afternoon at the Cafe called Church -- drinking, dining, dancing, and general carrying on are on the menu.

OUR LOVE has been bridging the gay color gap with a number of cool things, including a roaming Blackout party, the last installment of which (viewed above) took place at the new Toad Hall -- an interesting choice, if anyone remembers the history of controversy between owner Les Natali and some members of the black gay community. Also: an upcoming "Black Men of the Castro" 2010 calendar, and a soon-to-be-launched social networking site for gay African American men, tentatively called Welcome to My Neighborhood. There's also a "procott" planned (as opposed to a boycott), which will bring masses of African American gay men to visit business in the Castro. Plus: A mess o' more.

This in from UK band the Rakes' publicists:

"The Rakes have announced they are to split with immediate effect.

"The band who formed in 2002, came together as a foursome of childhood friends and kindred sprits and went on to release three critically acclaimed albums; the first Capture/Release in 2005, followed by Ten New Messages in 2007 and Klang (2009). Both the October UK tour and American dates are canceled, and full refunds will be given to ticket holders.

"A statement from the band reads:

"'The Rakes have always been very adamant and proud of the fact that we give 100% to every gig we've ever played. If we can't give it everything then we won't do it. That was the rule we set ourselves from day one.

Photos by David Schnur, text by Marke B.

Ian McCulloch, dark and lovely

Somewhat surprisingly sprinkled with young fans, a rapturous crowd received '80s guitar-pop heroes -Echo and the Bunnymen with open arms and singalong voices at the Fox on Thursday. The two remaining Bunnymen, singer Ian McCulloch and guitarist Will Sergeant, definitely still had it, recreating with ease the big sound and goth-romantic poetry that positioned the Bunnymen in a direct line from Joy Division to U2 -- even wearing more of their original influences on their sleeves, with covers of the Doors and Lou Reed and new material that reflected their admiration for Oasis.

The main attraction for this overdue valedictory tour was the inclusion of a 10+ member orchestra to recreate in full the Bunnymen's most ambitious album, 1984's Ocean Rain, which was just lovely, if the sound was a bit muddy at times. No one can resist the beauty of such tunes as "Killing Moon" -- if you were a kid when it came out, the spooky and then-unique juxtaposition of bunny drum machines, lunar jewels, strummed steel strings, and cosmic murder was mindblowing, and those shivers returned in ample waves here.

Will Sergeant, left, creating his indelible sound

Text and photos by Ariel Soto

The Fillmore Theater was filled with yarmulkes and heart-pumping beats last Thursday as Matisyahu, a Hasidic Jewish reggae singer, bounced
his way across the stage. The eclectic crowd at the sold-out show seemed to represent everyone, from religious diehards to So-Cal blonds in high heels. Matisyahu's lyrics convey his strong religious beliefs, but somehow he's able to reach a broad and diverse crowd. With his long payots swaying to each reggae beat, one might imagine they were dreads and this was a Rasta show straight from Jamaica. But isn't that what makes going to see music so great? There are no rules, just pure creativity and a smorgasbord of cultures and ideas around every bend.

LITTLE DRAGON
Machine Dreams
(Peacefrog)

By Kimberly Chun

“A New,” for sure. Dripping with mellotron sounds and windswept synths, Gothenburg, Sweden’s Little Dragon declares itself definitely, though far from overbearingly, with the opening track of Machine Dreams. Coming on the clicking, clamoring heels of its 2007 self-titled debut, this second full-length is an intoxicating sauce of synthpop bounce, faraway steel drum plonk, percolating bass lines, and Yukimi’s winsome, subtly soulful vocals. You know you’re in good hands when the ever-so-gently sharp synth stabs of “My Step” kick in. This is about machines blissfully dreaming of electric sheep, digital damsels, and Unix unicorns -- all bathed in enticing sweetness and light.

LITTLE DRAGON
With Nite Jewel
Nov. 4, 9 p.m., $20
Independent
628 Divisadero, SF
(415) 771-1421

Text and photos by Lisa Weiss

Photos from the 40th anniversary Woodstock celebration at Speedway meadow:

“This is righteous! It’s a part of history!” Terry Kennedy makes up the seriously daunting security behind the scenes at this year’s West Fest. He, along with many of his fellow security handlers and 2B1 record employees, lent a hand to the celebrations to commemorate the majestic memories from Summer of Love and Woodstock.

More pix after the jump

By Kimberly Chun

Halloween and NYE -- yes, it’s amateur hour once again for non-locals, gawkers, and ‘burb brats. Still, ya gotta fill the void -- here are a few more ways that didn’t make print.

Art Brut
Are the Anglo-Teutonic arty farties the next best thing to poppers like Fountains of Wayne? With Princeton Fri/30, 7:30 and 10:30 p.m., $16. Cafe du Nord, 2170 Market, SF. (415) 861-5016.

No Age
The LA twosome skipped the Grammys for the road (“Best Recording Package?”). With Residual Echoes and Magic Bullets. Fri/30, 9 p.m., $16. Great American Music Hall, 859 O’Farrell, SF. (415) 885-0750.

FELA KUTI
The Best of the Black President - Deluxe Edition
(Kalakuta Sunrise/Knitting Factory)

By Kimberly Chun

Ripe for revival and just in time for FELA!, the Broadway musical, as well as the real-life black president, Fela Kuti was a legend in his own time -- the fact that he passed more than a dozen years ago seems surreal. Watch him today on YouTube (below) or on the Slice of Fela DVD that accompanies the new Best of the Black President (Kalakuta Sunrise/Knitting Factory) and includes excerpts from the film Music Is the Weapon and a Berlin Jazz Festival performance. You'll get a glimpse of the visonary's shamanistic sonic power.

No need to rely on the visuals though - just let Black President's two discs' full of hypnotic grooves wash over you. "Army Arrangement," "Roforofo Fight," "Lady," "Water Get No Enemy" -- the first in Knitting Factory Records' remastered reissue series of 45 Kuti titles shines a light on his '60s band Koola Lobitos and takes you higher. Guarans. It's the first time all 45 albums will released on vinyl in North America -- something to look forward to in the next 18 months.

Here's a taste of latter-day Fela with Afrika 70, shot by Ginger Baker (not included on the DVD):

BELLINI
The Precious Prize of Gravity
(Temporary Residence)

SLEEPER
Behind Every Mask
(Mush)

The return of David Yow and Jesus Lizard couldn't be better timed, judging from releases like Bellini's The Precious Prize of Gravity and Sleeper's Behind Every Mask: there's life in that post-punk corpse yet.

Working with old cohort Steve Albini, the Sicily-NYC-Texas-based Bellini growls like the dread ghost of Live Skull, with all the elastic power of Midwestern maulers like Jesus Lizard and Shellac. Vocalist Giovanna Cacciola croons and barks as if she's had one champagne cocktail too many -- in the bowels of hell.

Sleeper is more insinuating and less definable. These dusky ambient instrumentals seem to be fashioned with an ear toward both post-punk anxiety and brooding horror scores. Carlos Ransom puts his homemade instruments to good use, good enough to make me pick this up long after it's release earlier this year. Play "Witch Hunt" in the darkest corner of your Blair Witch basement tonight for All Hallow's.