As with any genre, many aren’t shy about their opinions of what country music should be. Admittedly, we’re glad it’s not all about heartache and crops drying up and tears in beer: Jason Boland & The Stragglers, however, like to keep things serious. Also in town: Rocky Votolato and Here We Go Magic.

But what makes Rancho Alto an unqualified success is its refusal to preach and that it doesn’t make concessions to recording methods that fabricate grit. In that sense, Jason Boland & The Stragglers are almost better than Drive-By Truckers in selling tales of scraping out a living, moral gray areas, and brutal luck. “Down Here In The Hole” depicts a suck-ass job where you never see the sun; a poisonous relationship becomes routine in “Obsessed”; and, in the harrowing “False Accuser’s Lament,” a poor farmer agrees to go along with the prosecution’s story only to see the gallows every night in his sleep. The Stragglers never over-dramatize Boland’s vignettes, hewing closely to traditional country templates and letting the direct words do the work. (Friday@Joe’s with Chris Knight.)

Rocky Votolato’s Television Of Saints (Undertow) grows into a family affair, though his unshakable romantic issues remain solely his. Presented in relatively unadorned singer/songwriter tones, Votolato’s problems get reflected back at him in the dreariest details of modern life: stoplights, dead leaves, brick houses along the highway, a perpetually powered TV, etc. The pain of divorce paralyzes “Start Over,” while in “Sunlight” he edges over the lines of mental collapse. In short, Votolato and Boland need to go bowling. (Thursday@Schubas with Kevin Long.)

No established artist says, “I’ve never heard of this producer or anything they’ve done, but I’ll hire them anyway.” It’s certain that Luke Temple liked something Nigel Godrich did (probably for Radiohead) before approaching him to helm Here We Go Magic’s A Different Ship (Secretly Canadian), the trick was to not give fans or critics incentive to believe that it was because he wanted to sound like one of Godrich’s clients. Mission failed on “Alone But Moving,” where Temple’s cracking falsetto recalls a certain you-know-who. What’s funny, however, is how nothing you’d credit to Godrich sounds identical to Radiohead. Here We Go Magic move somewhat antiseptically (or unassertively) through the album, preferring gauzy textures and insularity as if they couldn’t have gotten there on their own. (Thursday@Empty Bottle with Dolphins.)

– Steve Forstneger

When Eric Church, sporting his trademark sunglasses finally evolved onto the stage at 9:32 on Friday night, engoulphed in a thick cloud of smoke, there was a feeling of the unknown.

Today’s big arena concerts are packed with video screens, flashy stages, and lots of razzle dazzle. Church is an old-school beer-keg-on-the-stage, smoke, some flashing lights, and fireworks kind of guy. With his liquid friend Jack Daniel’s (in the red Solo cup) hanging close by on the mic stand (94 proof, single barrel, and custom labeled for him), he proceeded to crank through 21 songs taking the packed Sears Centre crowd on a well-scripted musical rollercoaster.

He ripped through six songs before getting back to the theme of the night with “I’m Gettin’ Stoned,” and then “Jack Daniel’s” declaring “Tonight I’m drinking Jack Daniel’s/and don’t give a shit.” He’s an emotional, passion-filled singer who is relatable with his jumping around, fist-pumping, and chest-pounding to make his points. (No choreographed dance moves here.)

He stripped it down for a three-song acoustic set banging out “Two Pink Lines,” “Sinners Like Me,” and “Love Your Love The Most.” With the band back on stage and rested, he went right into chart topper “Drink In My Hand” and begged the crowd to “Give me everything you got!” He finished the main event with “Homeboy,” signed his bottle of JD for a fan, and left the same way he entered.

All this was, of course a tease for The Encore. Church has the summer anthem that has not only topped the country charts but is climbing the Rolling Stone Top 40, too. Before the much anticipated “Springsteen,” he led with “Smoke A Little Smoke” and “These Boots.” With his guitar slung over his shoulder, he pounded the ivories in an ode to The Boss, and his iconic Born In The USA album.” “This is where melodies and memories connect,” he said, telling a story about a girl who’s name can can’t remember but thinks of her every time he hears that (track one, side one) song. There were only a few lighters in the house, but the illuminated cell phones rocking back and forth should be made into his next video. Almost as if he didn’t want to leave, it turned into an eight-minute sing-along that put the finishing touch on a entertaining night.

Hard-pounding rednecks Blackberry Smoke provided some background for getting that first beer and concert T-shirt bought. Brantley Gilbert revved-up the late-arriving crowd with an eight-song set that included his hits “County Must Be Country Wide” and “You Don’t Know Her Like I Do.” He may not be this year’s headliner, but with a few more songs and his deep crooners voice, he may be in Church’s spot next.

– Brian Ormiston

Anime had its Big O; well-traveled singer/songwriters look to Alejandro Escovedo and Damien Jurado. That, and more tenuously tangential links in our roundup for the 16th, also including Hope For Agoldensummer, The Royalty, and We Are Serenades.

How strange is it that Alejandro Escovedo was once in a side-project rock band called Buick MacKane and has now thrice worked with producer Tony Visconti? As things stand, Big Station (Fantasy) sounds no more like T. Rex than anything else in the 61-year-old’s catalog. But Escovedo and Visconti have come up with what amounts to a “hit” album for the San Antonian, in so far as it sounds like a compilation of all his best work. Perhaps that’s owed again to the collaboration of co-writer Chuck Prophet, who himself is on a roll as far as distilling Americana rock into something a little less wearying than your boilerplate No Depression stars. Opener “Man Of The World” might not quite be the Fleetwood Mac song, but its pumping swagger gives that version a run for its money. (Wednesday@Uptown’s Playlist Theater in LaSalle with Jesse Malin.)

One day, a rather stunning compilation will be made of Damien Jurado’s best, and in a perfect world it would place him alongside the likes of John Prine in the history books. Maraqopa (Secretly Canadian), however, will not be rocketing toward the top of the pops soon. A deep, yet somewhat quixotically mixed album, Jurado usually pushes the bulk of his imagination into his characters but really lets fly with the arrangements here. Opener “Nothing Is The News” opens with the muddled rumble of old guitar strings, but soon launches itself into Haight-Asbury psychedelic rock. “Life Away From The Garden” casts a creepy children’s choir, and the LSD returns for the reverbed lope of “This Time Next Year.” Though his fragile tenor reminds you whose album this is, it’s easy to forget what you began listening for, until words like “Don’t let go/I need you to hang around/I am so broke/and Foolishly in love” remind you that not all’s in the scenery. (Wednesday@Schubas with JBM.)

Harmonizing sisters aren’t trendy — they’re a gift. So yes, Claire and Page Campbell intertwine as effortlessly as the Watson Twins or Wilsons, but they don’t prefer a lung-emptying showcase or even something that would wake Azure Ray from a slumber. Instead, Hope For Agoldensummer use Life Inside The Body to make subtle and even aching gestures, many of which recall the vulnerable, half-wakefulness of Rebecca Gates. It can be somnambulant and deliberate, for sure, but it’s never typical. (Wednesday@Uncommon Ground Devon with Andru Bemis.)

It can be a wonderful thing to have a versatile pop band. While Victory Records has gone overboard with The Royalty by comparing them to everyone from Adele to Blondie to Sleigh Bells, the label’s clearly excited by its prospects. On Lovers, Nicole Boudreau stars in an almost Gwen Stefani-like way, one that flirts with debasing her bandmates’ contributions. But The Royalty are up to creating a multitude of pop scenarios for her, whether Spector-esque pop, ska-lite, or electro-pop delight. (Wednesday@Beat Kitchen with Nature Show, Placeholder, and Eiffel Tower.)

The jump from Shout Out Louds to We Are Serenades is deliberate if not literal. The delicate, Swedish power-poppers might actually only be half SOLs — frontman Adam Olenius — but their raison d’etre is fully encompassed by his band’s “Impossible” and its precious intent to never compromise happiness. What keeps Criminal Heaven from being an irrepressible ode to blind youth is its pacing, a cryptic concession to acquiescence that is obscured in the interest of keeping the good times going for as long as possible. (Wednesday@Empty Bottle with Northpilot and Dozens.)

– Steve Forstneger

You have a big weekend: after Maps & Atlases finish their hometown release party at Metro, wake up, brush teeth, and get in line to be first for The Right Now’s. Also: Sheffield’s Water For Ale, Father John Misty, Chicha Libre, and Royal Canoe.

A problem with the soul-revue revival is the aggressively retro stance of its participants. Not limited to dress, a huge portion of the songs seize on peak-period Stax and Muscle Shoals-type arrangements complete with analog pops and snaps. Chicago-based The Right Now share complicity in some of these tropes, but at least the new Gets Over You doesn’t doll itself up like Dick Clark will come knocking any moment. With a name like Stefanie Berecz, the band’s frontwoman does well to keep from donning blackface and mimicking any of the era’s iconic vocalists. Her pipes’ Midwestern modesty is a microcosm for a band trying to find their own way with the genre’s well-worn templates — case in point is “Call Girl,” which loses the tie, undoes two or three buttons, and heads out under the disco ball. To the alternate future! (Saturday@Lincoln Hall with Derobert & The Half Truths.)

If you’ve watched the craft beer section of your local Jewel or Dominick’s explode from Leinenkugel’s and Honey Brown to bombers of Hop Stoopid and Flossmoor Station, you’re no doubt impressed. You might also be wondering, if there’s this much specialty brew to go around, where are we getting all the water? And how much longer until the Southwest is completely tapped out (giving teetotalers a new look at the term “going dry”)? Sheffield’s — long one of the only places in Wrigleyville that served decent beer — announces the first S.W.A.P. (Sheffield’s Water From Ale Project) for this weekend, during which it’ll donate a dime from every draft poured off its 50 taps to organizations including Friends Of The Chicago River, and Council Of The Great Lake Governors, and Water.org, while working with brewers to match what it gives. Admission is free for an all-you-can-eat fish fry, a Two Brothers “Tap Takeover,” and bluegrass! (Saturday@Sheffield’s with Chico & James.)

In 2007, Barbes Records released Roots Of Chicha: Psychedelic Cumbias From Peru, a stunning compilation of South American songs from the ’60s that collided with psychedelic rock. The astonishing and ostensibly sad thing about it, is that the musicians didn’t seem to be playing this great music for anyone but themselves and the chances of hearing it again were limited to this release. Not necessarily so: Chicha Libre arrive this week, and this year’s Canibalismo (on the same label no less), recreates the style with a modern flair. In place of dirt-floor, barrio charm comes a cleaner representation that has its own benefits: particularly bringing out elements poorly recorded in the past. (Saturday@Old Town School Of Folk Music.)

The harmonies on Fear Fun pull the curtain back on the fact that J. Tillman daylights in Fleet Foxes, a connection that no doubt encouraged Sub Pop to give a big-label shot to the wandering, shamanistic singer/songwriter. Its hunch pays off on his debut as Father John Misty, which updates the Devendra Banhart hippie mystique to fashionably include the PacNW, L.A. hotels, and a hint of Sweetheart-era Byrds. (Saturday@Schubas with Har Mar Superstar.)

Winnipeg’s Royal Canoe put disproportionate weight on point of view for their Extended Play EP, and that doesn’t include the Vampire Weekend-ish run through the motions of “Caught In A Loop.” From one side, they’re cavalier boundary crossers, melding psychedelic rock, hip-hop, and world pop with abandon, and making summery anthems at each turn. Or, you could say its engaging unpredictability conspicuously opens a pleasant new path, and that “Loop” is more of a signifier of boundaries than a way to fill five minutes. (Sunday@Township with The Mommies.)

– Steve Forstneger

No one really addresses it, but one of the hallmarks of post-millennial hip-hop has been very punk rock: you don’t need a good voice to make an impact. Danny Brown epitomizes this and is in town this week, along with Ty Segall, Stryper, Maps & Atlases, and Plants And Animals

We’ve come a long way from Melle Mel and Kurtis Blow, but even beyond the interjections of Snoop Dogg and Bone Thugs-N-Harmony, the MC ideal has been someone who commands the mic, enunciates, and (most underrated) can spit in relative tune with the music. DMX challenged this in the extreme — as did Busta Rhymes, Ol’ Dirty Bastard, and even Ja Rule — but today it seems atonality or a harmonic indifference has become the way. Lil Wayne and Nicki Minaj operate independent of melodies and beats, while even Kanye West possess a nasally intonation and lack of authority that can make his voice crack when he attempts conviction. In that sense, Danny Brown’s long slog in the underground and prison system was just spent waiting for time to catch up to him. The material on last year’s XXX (Fool’s Gold) breakthrough didn’t just hinge on verses about winters using an oven as a heater or brutally graphic sexual exploits, but how his misfit pipes portrayed a split personality. He almost sounds like he’s battling himself on the final cut, “30″ (the album title refers to explicit content as well as Brown’s age), and creates a tension that transcends fads. (Wednesday@Riviera Theatre with Childish Gambino.)

Speaking of underrated, it’s great how we can talk about Ty Segall’s “old” material but chronologically only need to go back about two years. In a flurry of releases since he was unearthed in the same garage-rock revival that delivered Jay Reatard, Segall declines to stay in place very long. On last year’s Goodbye Bread (Drag City), he tried to divine if things really sounded better slow, and on a collaborative album this spring with opener White Fence he won’t let any structure take its coat off. Hair finds Segall and Tim Presley plotting, scheming . . . doing anything to disrupt whatever strolls they can lull you into. Still working from a customary palette of ’60s guitar bands, they kick out chairs, stick fingers in your back, and turn lights on just as you’ve fallen asleep. (Thursday@Lincoln Hall with White Fence and Strange Boys.)

Everyone knows that the great irony of the Stryper story is that they went platinum despite being assertively evangelical in an overwhelmingly debauched pop-metal world. Less spoken of, the band’s first real taste of success was in a place that couldn’t put less emphasis on religion if it tried: Japan. Take that further, when Stryper began to make their move in the U.S., some of their most vocal critics were highly visible members of the Religious Right. (Though, you could probably wager that sincere Satanists never rated Ozzy Osbourne highly, either.) As vendors of a particularly ridiculed musical style, Stryper may never get much credit for the barriers they demolished. Unfazed, they ended a 14-year hiatus in 2005 and dutifully went back to spreading the word. Of course, the landscape has changed so much that they didn’t take much flak for last year’s The Covering (Big3) — which includes their versions of songs originally recorded by Osbourne, Judas Priest, Kiss, and more — or the distressing artwork on their two post-reunion studio albums. But now that irony’s been brushed aside, there’s nothing left to do but play. (Thursday@Tailgaters in Bolingbrook.)

Whether people respond to it en masse is another thing, but it’s difficult not to have an opinion about Beware And Be Grateful (Barsuk). Maps & Atlases‘ sophomore full-length finds the local band quite a distance from their first EPs, where the proggy touches have morphed into something resembling mid-’80s Peter Gabriel. Part of that’s due to the husk of Dave Davison’s voice, but Beware takes a preponderence of trendy African rhythms and guitar lines and turns them into something American and summery with a production sheen that’s as integral to the album as the songwriting. (Friday@Metro with So Many Dynamos and Sister Crayon.)

The reversion to vinyl hasn’t necessarily coincided with a revived approach to making music specifically for 33s, though the idea defines Plants And Animals‘ The End Of That (Secret City). The first half plops down on the couch, and the Montreal-based band effectively churn out an indie-rock Americana, admitting to “Sittin’ in the sun/blowing smoke/and talking shit with no reasons.” But then the fifth track, “Crisis!,” flips a switch, the amplifiers register their unhappiness, and we get desperate cries like, “We’re running for our lives!” Two sides, one piece. Love it. (Friday@Schubas with Hundred Waters and American Wolf.)

– Steve Forstneger

Many casual rock fans get stuck on this poser: name the band who were greatly influenced by both Bob Dylan and The Beatles, and in turn had major influence on Bob Dylan and The Beatles. The answer is The Byrds. Similarly, another ’60s-born Southern California-based outfit led several lives, one that is extremely more commercially popular than the others, but those lesser-known years irrevocably changed the language of pop music.

Appearing: May 21st and 22nd at Chicago Theatre (175 N. State) in Chicago.

They are The Beach Boys.

To this day, an astounding number of Americans are unfamiliar with Pet Sounds, a recording reverently hailed by critics as one of the most important of all time. If you troll its comments section in Apple’s iTunes music store, you’d frequently read those of Beatles fans who write something akin to, “I bought this because I read that Paul McCartney wrote most of Sgt. Pepper’s in admiration of it.”

Consequently, an army of self-styled “serious” listeners ignore The Beach Boys’ early hits — as they do The Beatles’ — believing Pet Sounds and its besieged, ultimately released (in 2004) successor Smile are the band’s true legacy. Because Brian Wilson was central to those albums, those cognoscenti then err by clipping their Beach Boys’ collections when Wilson’s drug use and mental instability drove him into seclusion, and they are comically unaware of albums like Sunflower, when the rest of the band blossomed.

“I would say the reason we’re here is because the early stuff is taken so incredibly seriously,” says Bruce Johnston. “I’d say it’s the reverse. I think people get a little itchy and antsy when [on tour, Mike Love and I] try to go deep. The problem music, I think, is the deeper stuff. The whole world knows the early stuff.

“But let’s not go there,” he pauses. “Here’s how it should sound: Hearing it all is the better choice.”

And so you shall have it. For their 50th anniversary — allegedly the first American rock group to reach the milestone — Johnston, Love, Brian Wilson, and Al Jardine are touring one last time, so people can hear the full spectacle from “Surfin’” to a new album, That’s Why God Made The Radio, due June 5th.

The official launch was at the Grammys this winter, and Wilson says, “Just recently we decided to do the tour. We’re doing most of the Beach Boys’ classics. There are some that aren’t as classic,” he kids, “but they’re good tunes.”

“This configuration,” Johnston starts, “people have a great interest in the depth that [Brian] created, and you get it at his concert. He’s kind of like Burt Bacharach: he’s this all-purpose guy from the music business who did everything. Here’s this amazing talent on stage who wrote, produced, and arranged it, and did all the stuff. And he can get away with some really interesting tracks. When Mike and I go out — other than when we play with symphonies — we keep it a little lighter.”

But surely Love and Johnston don’t need Wilson along to dabble in Pet Sounds, and he admits that the pair cover more than half of the album when hitting the likes of Ravinia each summer.

“He doesn’t tour a lot,” Johnston agrees, “but he’s able to do things that we wouldn’t be able to do — like a longer version of ‘Heroes & Villains.’ And the reaction he gets . . . I’m not saying his audience doesn’t have fun, but Brian gets a more serious audience. ‘Here Today’ is really fun to do, but I have to force Mike. I don’t know why he doesn’t like doing it. ‘I don’t like the instrumental part in the middle!’ ‘That’s my favorite part!’”

In half of a century, The Beach Boys have certainly been entitled to a few squabbles, and those mostly limit themselves to lawsuits over royalties or use of the band name. Musically, fractures appeared in the agonizing sessions for Smile, when Wilson became increasingly withdrawn, Love especially didn’t like its fragmented nature or Van Dyke Parks’ cryptic lyrics, and Capitol Records wanted to know where its money went.

“I always thought Smile should have been Brian’s solo album with us visiting vocally,” Johnston says, “and I don’t think he would have gone through any of the pain making that album. The label wouldn’t be wondering, ‘Where are the hits, Brian? Where are the hits?’ The label was really funky in those days.” Though he’s not a founding member — he joined the touring band after Glen Campbell split in 1965; he wasn’t considered a full-timer until a couple of years later — Johnston occupies what seems like an arbiter’s position in the band. He was one of Pet Sounds‘ biggest champions, yet tours in full-voice behind the early hits. And those topsy-turvy years beginning 1967’s Smiley Smile?

“It’s a great career, great music, and later on band members,” he says. “Have you ever heard Dennis [Wilson]’s song, ‘Forever’? My favorite Beach Boys album in the whole world is Sunflower. It’s one of the least-successful albums in the catalog,” he snickers, “and Dennis wrote this perfect song. The Wilson brothers had great writing talent.”

Reliably, he’s partial to the new album, as well.

“It’s very relaxed to me,” Johnston hints. “What I like about it is the label wasn’t running in the door every five minutes [looking for hits]. They just come over once in awhile and heard all the voices. Brian’s got this cute little pocket suite in it. And nobody’s worried about ‘Strings aren’t cool = it’s 2012.’ Paul Martin did these great string arrangements. It’s relaxed and there’s interesting things going on. Nobody’s trying to put on whatever they were all about from the mid ’60s. Nobody’s trying to win an Olympic gold medal. Al sang a duet with me, and it was a pleasure. It’s not like an album where you’re gonna go, ‘This is gonna be pretty big!’ You’re gonna go, ‘Hey, this is pretty nice. These guys, after all these years, can and want to sing together.’”

Brian Wilson, who guards his words in a separate interview, opens up here. “It’s very mellow-sounding. A lot of harmonies. Most of it’s just harmony. I wrote a song called ‘Shelter,’ which is all about how your house is shelter from the sunlight and shelter from the dark night. It’s a great tune, it really is.”

That’s Why God Made The Radio’s title track has been issued as the first single, and its unabashedly retro feel is charismatic. The band’s rich harmonies cascade over a bass pattern that’s surprisingly high in the mix, with everything swaying in 12/8 time. Despite the arrangement’s density, it never feels cluttered and — like most Beach Boys single edits — ends too soon.

He continues, “Most of the stuff I wrote in 1998 with my collaborator Joe Thomas. [Until now], the guys had never heard it before. They love it. They think it’s great stuff. The guys haven’t changed very much in 50 years, you know? They still sound just as good or even better than 50 years ago!”

If the material was written in 1998, that means it came to life while Wilson was living in St. Charles, not far from the Thomas whose résumé includes work with McCartney and Elton John. The pair were working on Wilson’s solo album, Imagination, and guests at the house included the former Beatle, John Lennon’s son Sean, and Joe Walsh. After an alleged falling-out, Wilson moved back to California. This part, he’s not so willing to talk about.

“Not really. It was hard work, you know?”

Johnston, coincidentally, also has ties to the area, having been born in Peoria and kept a home in Beverly. His father, a big-wig at Walgreens, adopted him shortly before joining forces with Justin Dart, a former son-in-law of the Walgreens empire who revolutionized the drugstore business and became a magnate. The Johnstons moved to Bel-Air, young Bruce cottoned to surfing, and then fell in with some incredibly important artists.

“I’ve been at this since high school,” he says. “I used to back up Ritchie Valens and Eddie Cochran; I was in a band with Phil Spector and on and on and on. But I was at this surf spot called Swami’s in San Diego, and I don’t know, I must have been 18 or 19, and I heard ‘Surfin” On the radio by The Beach Boys, and I didn’t know what it was. We had gone through instrumental stuff by The Ventures and Dick Dale, and all of the sudden vocals are singing about the surfing life. It astounded me that my sport had a voice. One thing led to another, and I’m in this band.”

– Steve Forstneger

For the full story, visit the issue through our partners at ShadeTree, or grab a copy available free throughout Chicagoland.

IE: Are there any that you’re more excited to approach than others?
Brian Wilson: Not really. Well, “California Girls” I look forward to, and “Good Vibrations.” I look forward to those.

IE: Is there anything about those songs that you don’t get to touch on in your newer material?
BW: We try to put all our heart and soul into everything.

IE: You mentioned Joe Thomas was your main collaborator. What about the others?
BW: Well, they’ve all had their input, you know what I mean? If I thought Bruce would be better to sing [one part], he might have said, “You sing it, Al.”

IE: So the collaborative spirit was there.
BW: Right.

IE: Are you making improvements on the old songs?
BW: Yeah, we’re trying to make them sound just as good as they did then.

IE: Has there been any conversation of the legacy of the band and how it fits into today’s climate?
BW: We said we’re not real current; the music isn’t today’s kind of music. But it’s just as good or better than the music of today.

IE: What’s your barometer for that?
BW: Harmonically, I guess. Just the harmonies. It’s got the energy, too — there’s a lot to it.

IE: Can you notice recurrent themes in the music you’ve made through the years? Certain melodic signatures, etc.?
BW: Not just the harmonies, but the melodies are good. The lyrics are very interesting, you know?

IE: Have there been any challenges in putting this together?
BW: We’re challenged to make it sound good.

IE: Are you a perfectionist in that light?
BW: Yes I am. I’m a perfectionist in the sense that I don’t want the guys to sound crappy. And they’ll say, “We sound good.” Sure, we sound good, but we can’t sound crappy.

– Steve Forstneger

Superman had his Fortress Of Solitude; Mayer Hawthorne has his records and the stores scattered around the globe devoted to housing rare and overlooked vinyl.

Appearing: May 17th at Park West with The Stepkids, and later the same night at Beauty Bar in Chicago.

While out on the road, if the L.A.-based, Ann Arbor, Michigan native’s not on stage soaking up the intense, if unlikely, female adulation his bedroom-eyed crooning brings, he’s either satisfying his foodie tendencies at a local eatery of note or adding to his collection of LPs.

You can just picture him hunkering down in a musty shop with creaky hardwood floors – the kind that make it easy for well-fed dust bunnies to hop in between stacks of music. His thick-rimmed hipster frames slide down his nose as he hunches over crates, flipping through unorganized and improperly alphabetized titles. Losing all track of time, he focuses on the hunt, rarely coming up for air until he locates that trip-defining gem.

Hawthorne has a name for this treasured ritual: “digging.” And it’s not a team sport.

“It’s usually more of like a Zen thing for me. That’s kind of like my drug. So, I don’t usually like to talk to nobody when I’m digging for records. It’s more of like a private thing. I just get in my zone and dig,” he reveals on a Saturday afternoon, right before the East Coast portion of his world tour gets underway. “People think that they want to go record shopping with me, but they really don’t – they get bored.”

So, it seems like a spin-off of his “Mayer vs. Food” YouTube series is out of the question then. The 33-year-old will play virtual food critic and break bread with fans online, but shopping excursions are off limits. In lieu of craftily edited vignettes, we’ll have to settle for hard-nosed advice.

“I like digging in record stores that are kind of sloppy and unorganized. Because that way you just like start digging through a pile and find something you weren’t necessarily looking for. That’s usually how I find the best stuff: not having any strategy at all,” Hawthorne admits. A haphazard methodology also makes up for an overwhelming number of choices. “I always have like a list in my head of all these records that I want to get, and then as soon as I walk in the door of the record store it goes completely out the window and I can’t remember anything that I wanted.”

This affection for 12 grooved inches of aural merriment stems from Hawthorne’s two-turntables-and-a-microphone days in Detroit as DJ Haircut. (For those keeping track at home, that’s alias number two for the man born Andrew Mayer Cohen.) Hawthorne came up with his own Motown-influenced melodic riffs to erase the need for sampling copyrighted (and expensive) material. Despite never considering himself a singer, this goofing off caught the attention of Stones Throw Records label head Peanut Butter Wolf, who urged Hawthorne to create an album around the tracks. A Strange Arrangement followed, spurred on by the it’s-not-you-it’s-me single, “Just Ain’t Gonna Work Out.” (In keeping with Hawthorne’s hobby, the single was released on red, heart-shaped vinyl – surely a get for future diggers.)

Hawthorne jumped to the majors for his sophomore effort, How Do You Do (Universal Republic), keeping the soul- revivalist motif going without ever falling into pastiche. Despite the inevitable Curtis Mayfield comparisons, Hawthorne firmly places the album in this decade with a guest appearance by Snoop Dogg and infusing the coos and his A-plus bedside manner with a hip-hop sensibility.

Hawthorne’s voice sounds like it’s draped in gold lamé, even if his outfits suggest otherwise. The budding fashionista might bristle at the word “outfit,” but anyone with a self-proclaimed motto (“flashy but classy”) to go along with their duds, doesn’t just wear clothes. Hawthorne sports a look that’s hipster chic mixed with GQ swagger and very debonair. You’ll rarely find him sans bowtie or without a perfectly pressed and color-coordinated pocket square.

His fashion sense comes from an unlikely source: his grandma Shirley. “I get all my fashion inspiration from my grandma. She’s the most stylish person I know. Like any time she would walk into a room, everybody would always know right off the bat,” Hawthorne remembers. “But, she always kept it really classy. She taught by example.”

– Janine Schaults

For the full story, visit the issue through our partners at ShadeTree, or grab a copy available free throughout Chicagoland.

Even if he was preemptively playing along with what he assumes to be a skeptical urban magazine, Eric Church raises some salient points about country music. His career, after all, could be one of its songs.

He isn’t one of those momma-got-run-over-by-a-train-when-I-was-drunk things David Allan Coe and Steve Goodman once sent up, neither is he one of the polished pop/rock turds that passes for country on CMT and in Nashville’s boardrooms, nor a Kenny ‘n’ Keith-style interloper. He grew up in North Carolina, on country and rock ‘n’ roll, and did he and his bandmates ever pay their dues.

Appearing: May 15th at Sears Centre in Hoffman Estates with Brantley Gilbert and Blackberry Smoke.

“I just read in Nashville, there’s a label that’s trying to sign a bunch of guys like us who want to do what we do,” he grumbles. “And it makes me laugh! ‘You guys got to be kidding!’ Nobody would be stupid enough to follow our path. You look back at where we came from, nobody would survive it. I can’t believe we did.”

He can laugh now, what with Chief (EMI Nashville) the first country album since the ’60s to top the mainstream Billboard charts without a number-one single. But Church is somewhat annoyed that his spit and blood are being fatally ignored in someone’s marketing proposal.

“I wish people would let more artists develop,” he says. “I think we’ve lost — and this goes for all music — artist development. You throw it out there, it either works or it doesn’t. If it doesn’t, we got to find something else. Then it becomes, ‘Well, we know this works over here: let’s copy that.’”

Not that Church isn’t above a little petty larceny himself. Country can just be so limiting.

“Country music to me has always been the best songs, the best songwriters,” he believes. “That’s why it appeals to me and most people in America. But the energy you get from rock ‘n’ roll and rock ‘n’ roll shows is unparalleled. It’s unmatched. I don’t think anybody in country, frankly, does it like a lot of the guys in rock do it. I don’t know why. Maybe they’re willing to go there. I think in country sometimes we get caught up in what demographic we’re appealing to, like we might offend somebody or there’s too many old people in the crowd.”

He hoots, “Rock comes in with guns slinging!”

And so, when Church and his band swing through Hoffman Estates, you might notice a shift from the typical C&W dynamic. Goodbye Stetson . . . hello Eddie?

“We went and adopted — well, we stole — an idea from Iron Maiden,” he admits, “where they used backdrops and the motion of backdrops, where they get snatched up or move side-to-side: it’s like a pulley system. And it was just so interesting, like it was video before there was video. But it’s movement and staging, and different backdrops correspond with different songs. And we’re not afraid to blow shit up. It’s like a rock ‘n’ roll show out there, and people are scared of that in country but not us: it’s what we do. It’s very in-your-face, and you never know if something’ll catch on fire.”

And yanging his yin for mayhem, Church has very specific ideas about what does not work for him.

“One of my pet peeves is video screens: I hate ‘em,” he laughs. “I think a lot of artists rely on them; I think a lot of artists hide behind them. I’ve been to so many shows when a person had a first or third row seat, the artist’s right in front of them, and they’re watching that screen almost like they’re watching television. I remember when I was a kid, even if you had a bad seat there’s things to get caught up in, whether it’s the movement on the stage, what the band members are doing, the lights, even the people in your section. There’s much more to a concert than just getting that close-up view all the time.”

He’s aware that with bigger venues come not only less knowledgeable fans, but people who come out less, period. His dedication will remain to those who got him here.

– Steve Forstneger

For the full story, visit the issue through our partners at ShadeTree, or grab a copy available free throughout Chicagoland.

IE: So there’s actually a film, Big Easy Express, of the Railroad Revival Tour you took last year by vintage train cars, with Mumford & Sons and Old Crow Medicine Show?
Alex Ebert: Yes. And it was shot really beautifully. But in some ways, it’s really hard to look at a film like that, because it’s capturing a time that, for me, was so paramount in my canon of experiences. I mean, it’s a 2D representation of a three-dimensional experience, so it’s hard to know if anyone else will be able to understand how important that train trip really was. But I hope it inspires other people to chase childlike dreams, like jumping on a train with your friends and playing music.

IE: Any on-screen revelations that surprised you?
AE: Yeah. After I heard the monologue that I was doing, I realized that I sounded like Morgan Freeman, like a Southern Morgan Freeman. So I might have a career in narration some day.

IE: In stomping hymns like “Mayla,” “I Don’t Wanna,” and “That’s What’s Up,” your new Zeros album really taps into a gospel fervor.
AE: That’s my favorite way to sing, and my favorite energy, musically. I like a lot of energies, but the energy with which gospel is sung and delivered is, to me, the ideal way in which music has its most profound, healing effect. And as we became a band over the last four years, playing a lot of the first album [Up From Below] in concert, then playing these radio acoustic sessions in between, we really wanted to do a more meditative group effort, something a little more tender.

IE: The Edward Sharpe character you first created for a book was a preacher-like figure. And a preacher is the protagonist of Here’s closer, “All Wash Out.” What is his sermon?
AE: In that song, the preacher is stumbling away from the institution of . . . whatever. He’s walking away from whatever you’ve got, whatever institutions there are, and coming away with a single truth — that love is something to believe in and everything else will wash out in the rain. And something will be left standing, and it’ll be some sort of truth that we can all recognize.

IE: Did you get any spooky déjà vu vibes on those circa-1940s rail cars during the Revival tour?
AE: In some ways. But for the most part I was pretty overwhelmed the whole time. And that’s how it is a lot of the time for me — playing these shows and just feeling overcome with . . . I dunno if “gratitude” is the right word, or “thankfulness.” Or just awe that it’s happening. So it just felt good to be on that train, that’s all I can say. It just felt really, really magical.

Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros’ album Here (Community) arrives May 29th. They play Riviera Theatre (4746 N. Racine) in Chicago on May 24th with He’s My Brother She’s My Sister. Q&A by Tom Lanham.

With equal influence from The Allman Brothers and Jeff Beck as Joe Satriani and Steve Vai, The Flyin’ Ryan Brothers offer a plethora of dueling guitars throughout Under The Influence. While the guys certainly have chops, the shred-heavy, jammy tendencies get redundant after awhile, but at least they interject variety between fierce licks and more laid-back grooves. (ryanetics.com)
– Andy Argyrakis

The worlds of melodic and progressive rock converge on Arion’s debut, A New Dawn Rising, though the trio’s been music making together in various incarnations for more than three decades. As a result, the project sounds tight and polished, recalling the likes of The Alan Parsons Project, Kansas, and Toto, wrapped crisply in the band’s co-production with Kevin Chalfant (707, The Storm, Two Fires) and mixing from Beau Hill (Alice Cooper, Winger). (ariontheband.com)
– Andy Argyrakis

Death Ships is an odd choice to name a band whose collection of 10 shimmering/jangly alt/pop/Americana songs on Circumstantial Chemistry are much more Midwest amber waves of grain than the dark, storm-tossed ocean variety. Being firmly produced, with assured songcraft and playing gives rise to infectious hooks throughout; and when all the guitars start cooking, the music soars like a Foo Fighters-infused-Wilco worthy of wider recognition. (facebook.com/Deathships)
– David C. Eldredge

Armed with a Midwestern roots rock ethos (think Cracker meets Wilco), Jeff Elbel + Ping turn in a batch of provocative songwriting and instrumental prowess throughout the Peanut Gallery EP. The project includes lyric-laden and instrumental versions of the same songs, but no matter what the format, these organic barnburners are sure to usher in both reflective and jubilant vibes. (marathonrecords.com/ping)
– Andy Argyrakis

The band name might come from a Caribou song, but the title of Hello Hammerheads‘ Greatest Hits LP and the presence of a revisionary, new-wave cover of “Can’t Fight This Feeling” suggest nefarious intentions. That these things all coalesce around Matt Ammerman’s Postal Service/Notwist-referencing bedroom-electro project will give his analyst plenty of starting points. Interviewing the girl who broke his heart might be a good idea, too. (mattammerman.com)
– Steve Forstneger

Spliced guitar parts, machine-gun drum blasts, chanted psychedelic metal, all spun on the backdrop of a warped White Zombie LP: oh, to be inside Kizer Von Lycan’s head. It’s difficult to decide whether the unrefined nature of the recordings enhance or betray the intent: brutal acts, by definition, lack rhyme and reason. But in music, perhaps there should be a higher standard. (reverbnation.com/KizerVonLycan)
– Kevin Keegan

Left Turn At Albuquerque’s full-length debut, In Broad Daylight, is noteworthy for the way guitarist Jeff Churchwell and keyboardist Sarah Scanlon weave their voices throughout melodic arrangements. At times, the folk-rock trio (bassist Joe Nemec is the third member) drifts into pretentious material like”Kaliedoscope,” but succeeds with clever C&W toe-tapper “Respectable” and the rapid-fire vocals of the band’s namesake track. (leftturnatalbuquerque.com)
– Terrence Flamm

There’s nothing wrong with A Feminist Manifesto, the most recent EP from Heather O’Neill. Unfortunately, there’s also nothing special about it. The Irish-born artist does a creditable job on all six tunes, but other than some unexpected brass on “Ballerina In A Bullfight” and a few nice turns of phrase on “Monique,” her efforts are neither moving nor memorable. (heather-oneill.com)
– Jeff Berkwits

When Quesne kicks off The Chicago Code with clips from the canceled police procedural, you kind of expect the 17-track outing to be an indictment of local political culture. But the first track’s about smokin’ ‘n’ drankin’. Then we get the first of four, unfortunate local sports anthems. Throw in Swizz Beatz-aping production, and by the time you crawl past the finish line, you can’t quite remember what happened — other than it was a mess. (reverbnation.com/quesne)
– Kevin Keegan

Artists will often do anything to get their music heard, but few have their pictures plastered on cans of chili. That’s just one of the many things differentiating Jessica Rae from the typical country music singer/songwriter. Another is her exquisite voice, exhibited most notably on the stirring “24 Hour Church (In Memphis).” Based on the 12 tunes on her self-titled debut, chili cans are the first of numerous places folks will soon be seeing her. (jessicaraemusic.com)
– Jeff Berkwits

Stone Black’s eight-song Villains Of Infamy would make a great soundtrack to playing Dungeons & Dragons. Lyrically, the themes (think golems, genies, and mummies) are covered in a storytelling (and at times clunky) vocal style, and since the band likes to jam power metal, a good portion of every song is instrumental. But the band’s chops carry it only so far, leading to repetitious riffage and, consequently, bloated song lengths. “Gorgons,” for example, riffs on for far too long. (stoneblackrocks.com)
– Jason Scales

Sunny Shadows, a duo comprising Pierogi and Circadian Bliss, offers eight epics brimming with ethereal vocals and lush keyboards on its debut, Coupled Lux Influx. A few tracks leave listeners drifting in space and the finale, “So So Mt. Fuji,” is dull and repetitive. The CD works best on songs like “Outlaw,” “On All Our Clouds,” and “Break In, Break Out,” where the synth beats are darker and more inventive. (sunnyshadowsmusic.com)
– Terrence Flamm

The eight-song (seven if one discounts 30-second one-off “Bill The Entertainer”) sampler Go Fun Yourself from sextet The Super Happy Fun Club is, quite simply, one of the most scintillating “unknown” debuts ever to grace this pair of ears. Obvious (but by no means negative) Green Day reference/comparison aside, the more nuanced production (excellent key flourishes, guys!) and vocal timbre also could be likened to, say, a more punked up Gin Blossoms graced with the mood of a less self-absorbed Strokes. The competency and quality of this entirely self-contained CD belies the band’s year-and-change existence. And if they can deliver the goods on stage, then Watch Out World (or WOW folks). (thesuperhappyfunclub.com)
– David C. Eldredge

A classic hard-rock ethos with a flair for the dramatic is the core of Thallium’s music. “I Will,” the opening track on the band’s six-song demo CD, uses slinky guitar grooves and the occasional cowbell highlight to accentuate powerful female vocals belting out a ballad-worthy chorus of “I will always love you.” The production of the bass on “No Idea” gives a nod to Tool, while “Threadbare” features a male vocalist. While the midtempo rock might not be polished enough for arenas, it would play just fine in a barroom. (sonicbids.com/thallium)
– Jason Scales

Damien Thorne worships at the throne of (post-Ozzy) Black Sabbath and Judas Priest. The band’s 14-track End Of The Game is vintage high-octane hard rock whose holy tenet is the more power-chord progressions there are, the better. The relentless riffage and gruff vocals to match largely stay on the appropriate linear track, as on “Fistful Of Regret,” but at times get bloated and bogged-down, especially on the verse parts of “Face Reality.” (damienthorne.com)
– Jason Scales

As its name suggests, Top Shelf Lickers is a color-outside-the-lines sort of band. These guys take a stab at numerous genres on their debut, Head First, like shifting tempos and points of view on the coed indie rocker, “Fall For You,” and mixing the 1950s with reggae on “No One Knows.” Sometimes the results are sloppy, but it’s hard to resist the DIY fun of the harmonica-driven garage rock of “Off My Mind” and the revved-up punk of “Mr. McShakes.” (reverbnation.com/thetopshelflickers)
–Terrence Flamm

No one can accuse Bil Vermette of rushing to complete an album. It’s been seven years since his last CD, but Galaxies IV, his new release, finds him exploring similarly spellbinding space-music soundscapes. Divided across two discs, the 16 lengthy songs, each with an evocative title like “Bodes Nebula” or “Hidden Cave,” radiantly recall vintage electronic bands like Tangerine Dream and Cluster. (facebook.com/bilvermette)
– Jeff Berkwits

The experience of a decade-and-a-half as a band has taught Vultures Are Lovebirds to stick with what they know. A cinematic romanticism floods Falling Out, instantly recalling Afghan Whigs minus the sporting misogyny — nodded to with their own composition called “Mr. Superlove,” which is not the Whigs’ esteemed cover of an Ass Ponys track. A lighter side rubs elbows with Gin Blossoms on “Just One More,” while opener “Never Say Never” provides an unexpected route to edgier Death Cab For Cutie. (facebook.com/vulturesarelovebirds)
– Steve Forstneger

Chuck Maurer’s What Rebel began as a cover band in a west-suburban basement and eventually felt confident to move into originals. Tracks like “Rise Up” and “Time Is Running Out” force commonplace riffs and chord changes through a cardboard amplifier, only to compete in the clasutrophobic mix with click-track vocal performances and A/B (sometimes just A/A) rhyme schemes. Clearly this is an act in its infancy — or maybe it’s several weeks premature. (reverbnation.com/WhatRebel)
– Steve Forstneger

With so many aged pop stars performing the Great American Songbook, it’s easy to dismiss Sometimes I’m Happy as yet another effort to rejuvenate hoary harmonies. Yet newcomer Amy Yassinger does something few old hands have accomplished: delivering genuinely fresh interpretations of classic tunes. “Slow Boat To China” and “Bei Mir Bist Du Schon” are standouts, but almost all of the 11 melodies are delightful. This is one artist who proves that what’s old truly can be new again. (amydoesjazz)
– Jeff Berkwits

Staring at the cover of Iron Maiden’s En Vivo! (UME) DVD — Bruce Dickinson exulting in front of what looks like Chile’s entire population — you get a vivid sense of metal’s enduring popularity, something dissected heavily in the book Metal Rules The Globe I reviewed in March.

But for how much longer will there be single bands who can draw an audience this size?

What brings this to my attention is the arrival, this month, of Rhino’s 20th-anniversary edition of Pantera’s Vulgar Display Of Power — the last great heavy album on which metal fans can reach consensus. After Vulgar — and I don’t know how anyone can blame grunge rock for this — it’s as if metal dropped a mirror that broke into a thousand pieces, all part of the same pane but very much separate and fractured. Korn’s self-titled debut helped launch nu-metal, which gained about as much acceptance among the brotherhood as Palestinian statehood at the U.N. Black metal began washing ashore and springing up in isolated pockets, but its chances for widespread acceptance were even more remote than death metal’s, and equally crippled by internal sabotage. Danzig and White Zombie’s retro horror groove metal dove headlong into industrial, connecting it with the Jim Rose Circus and Marilyn Manson, meanwhile Megadeth stumbled, Anthrax crumbled, and Testament’s Chuck Billy turned into Cookie Monster.

Vulgar represented a band who were henceforth immune to identity theft. Like with all great artists, if you stepped on their coattails, you were immediately denounced as a fraud; there was just no way to measure up to the real thing. But it was so magnetic. When Kiss tried to toughen their post-grunge image, they hired the same director who did “Mouth For War” for their “Unholy” clip. Frontmen started shaving their heads like Phil Anselmo. Diamond (not yet Dimebag) Darrell’s love for Dean Guitars revived the company despite the fact that the only person who could get away with playing one of those awful-looking (Chicago-born!) things was Darrell.

The lack of a successor, however, is distressing. We’ve pumped Mastodon’s tires thousands of times, yet even with Opeth in direct support they had trouble selling out the Riviera last month — 2,500 people. Look, I’m not saying that a ton of ticket and album sales validates any given music (anytime anyone suggests to you otherwise, ask them if they own “The Macarena” or “Who Let The Dogs Out?”), but the big shows mix segregated parts of the community, let you see the shirts of what a lot of people are into, and it’s just a different sort of entertainment. Yeah, there’s cachet acquired from seeing Baroness at Empty Bottle with 90 other people. But belting out “The Trooper” with 50,000 fevered Chileans? Yes, please.

• Not that En Vivo! doesn’t have limitations. The energy, execution, setlist: beyond reproach. But it’s also Maiden’s third live set since 2005, a span that has as many best-of packages. Iron Maiden’s legacy division has kicked into hyperdrive, and it imposes a sense of automation and rigidity onto the collection. The band play their hits so flawlessly, you imagine that their concerts are interchangeable. Granted, it’s extremely difficult to lend a production this size much room for improvisation, and playing to such an audience pretty much demands you pitch down the middle. But it wouldn’t kill a group so distinguished and unique to show a little personality, especially with so little left to prove.

• Sleep often get named as one of the best metal bands of the last decade, but I don’t think Matt Pike (now of High On Fire) has the money to buy a party house with a balcony overlooking a swimming pool where the Dallas Stars can dent the Stanley Cup. (Such is life.) Southern Lord, however, have seen fit to reissue the band’s hour-long, doom-metal album/song, Dopesmoker, this month. Included will be an unreleased live version of “Holy Mountain,” and a new batch of artwork.

• On the 15th, Nachtmystium release a limited-edition 45, featuring a Chris Connelly‘d cover of Joy Division’s “The Eternal.” Mixing on the forthcoming Silencing Machine finished at Engine Studios last month with Sanford Parker producing, though neither song on the single appears on the full-length.

• Local duo Number None bridge the gap between screeching, blackened noise and Lou Reed’s Metal Machine Music on the cassette-only Strategies Against Architecture. As Land Of Decay labelmates with Locrian, there’s some brinkmanship happening here that you might not want to be part of.

Trevor Fisher is taking some time off.

– Steve Forstneger

There’s something about hearing dir-ector Steven Soderbergh making a straightforward action film that immediately sent up a few red flags. First and foremost is the fact that Soderbergh has never made a straightforward film in his life.

No matter what genre he’s dabbling in, whether it be globe-hopping social drama (Traffic, Contagion), quiet morality tales (The Underneath, Out Of Sight), or his “Hollywood” flicks (the Ocean’s films), Soderbergh always seems to inject just a little twist in the narrative. Whether it’s a subtle character flaw or something as simple as holding a second or two longer than is comfortable on a reaction shot, there’s always an item that elevates his films just a little higher.

Unfortunately, introspection doesn’t work that well when bullets are flying and skulls are getting cracked.

The twist for Haywire is the gender reversal. Instead of the usual bad-ass male gun-for-hire out to right the wrongs and clear his name, we get former MMA fighter Gina Carano as the bad-ass gun-for-hire out to right the wrongs and clear her name.

Of course, it’s not really a twist at all, since there is a fairly decent roster of women in action flicks. But unlike, say, Angelina Jolie in Salt or Zoe Saldana in Columbiana, Carano is the first one who you actually have no trouble believing could kick someone’s ass without so much as getting a run in her tights.

Soderbergh hedges his bets by surrounding his first-time star with a cast of heavyweights. Michael Fassbender, Ewan McGregor, Bill Paxton, Channing Tatum, Antonio Banderas, and Michael Douglas all have a hand in the double (possibly triple) crossing. And while Carano isn’t going to be swiping any roles from Cate Blanchett anytime soon, she fares decently and holds her own. After all, she’s not getting paid to do Tennessee Williams, she’s getting paid to break bones.

Unfortunately, after about an hour the film hits a brick wall, and Soderbergh has no idea how to restart. Surprisingly, he’s not served well by writer Lem Dobbs, with whom he collaborated on the infinitely superior The Limey. Dobbs’ script becomes hazy and unfocused, allowing for long sections of downtime on the way to a jarringly hasty ending.

The Blu-ray features a smashing-looking film transfer, and little else. There are extended segments of Carano’s fight training, as well as brief interviews with the men of the cast (sans Douglas) and little else aside from a digital copy.

The Sun Came Out: The Making Of The Album 7 Worlds Collide
Cinema Libre

In 2001, Crowded House’s Neil Finn put together three charity concerts called 7 Worlds Collide, which included Eddie Vedder, Johnny Marr of The Smiths, Radiohead’s Phil Selway and Ed O’Brien, and Lisa Germano.

In 2008, Finn assembled another lineup to raise money for the poverty relief organization Oxfam, this time with more guests, and also to record an album as well as the live gigs.

With the exception of Vedder, everyone from the 2001 gigs were back, plus Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy, Glenn Kotche, John Stirratt, and Pat Sansone, as well as KT Tunstall on board.

The Sun Came Out follows the group and their families in and out of the studio as they cull together 10 songs in three weeks.

The end result is, predictably, disjointed — as you would expect from a project with as many disparate voices working on their own songs. Yet it holds up as more than the sum of its parts.

If you live for fly-on-the-wall looks inside recording studios and into the creative process, Sun would be for you. If, like most people, you only hold a passing fancy for the tweaking and tuning of studio knobs, it probably goes on a bit too long.

However, the inclusion of the 2001 concert helps a lot.

– Timothy Hiatt

Red or white, Todd Rundgren? And which would you choose to sip while listening to the soothing singer/songwriter? Have an answer ready when hitting up the Chicago outpost of City Winery. New York’s staple will open its second location come August in the West Loop and, despite offering a Mediterranean-centric menu to 175 bar patrons and 325 concert attendees, the fruit of the vine takes centerstage. Literally. Stacks of French oak barrels will line the winery’s 30,000 square feet. This isn’t a Disney World scene-setting tactic; these babies will house the joint’s onsite-produced vino.

Dust and rubble accompanied owner Michael Dorf and 27th ward alderman Walter Burnett’s glass-breaking ceremony last month to celebrate the former food-distribution warehouse’s transformation at 1200 W. Randolph into old-world wine country (think exposed brick and wood beams) jazzed up with sleek embellishments. Dorf says the venue/event space is more supper club than rock outlet, for crowds inclined to uncork a bottle while seated at tables than dance. Rundgren, Suzanne Vega, and Shawn Colvin are already on the calendar, but we predict more eclectic names to fill nights devoted to music and comedy since nabbing Colleen Miller from her 17-year-tenure as the Old Town School Of Folk Music’s talent buyer.

LIGHTS, CAMERA, RIDDIM

Bob Marley died in 1981 at 36 — based on the two hours of Kevin Macdonald’s Marley, you’d think the reggae superstar continues to pen songs from a Kingston retirement home. It’s either a testament to Marley, the songwriter, Rastafarian, and political provocateur packing a lifetime’s worth of adventures into his short time on Earth, or the filmmakers’ quest to exhaustively examine the minutiae of his career.

With a dearth of footage available (the earliest photo to surface shows the singer at 16), the documentary relies on interviews with Marley’s wife Rita (who selected songs for the two-disc soundtrack), mistress Cindy Breakspeare, and original Wailer Neville “Bunny” Livingston. It would be easy to let Marley indulge its inherent Messianic complex, but the candor offered up in these one-on-ones helps rein it in, even in the midst of contradictory recollections of Marley’s personality. We get a collage of the man — a stubborn philanderer (he fathered 11 children with seven women) with the creative drive of an Olympic athlete — instead of a complete picture.

To a certain generation, Marley’s nothing more than a commercial for an exotic Jamaican vacation and a toking mascot. The film succeeds in stripping away the years of licensing deals that slapped his face on everything from T-shirts to beach towels. Although, the marketing gods surely ringed their hands in glee over Marley’s 4/20 release date.

– Janine Schaults

NOTHING COMPARES 2 U 2

All told, April was sailing pretty smoothly until blowhards Axl Rose and Sinead O’Connor set us on a collision course for the early ’90s. First, Rose laid out a bizarre, lucid, paranoid, self-righteous, and all-contradictory-bases-covered “statement” on why it just didn’t make sense for him to share a podium for five minutes as Guns N’ Roses got inducted into the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame. And then he declined to be inducted at all. He wrote that the ceremony “doesn’t appear to be somewhere I’m actually wanted or respected.” Ah, yes. The ol’ “non-vite” from the HOF. He then edifyingly added, “God knows how long I’ll have to contend with the fallout.” Aw. The drama Rose has protracted over 20 years has been squished into the last 5 months for O’Connor: suicidal comments online, a hasty marriage, equally snappy separation, giving it another go, embrace of life, release of new album, 45-date tour scheduled, and then, on April 23rd, utter abandonment of her career, and canceled concerts. She then begged her fans for employment: “Must be Dublin or Wicklow based job and require love of people. NOT showbiz job.”

STACKS ON DECK

You have to wonder if Jim Marshall burned a little every time one of his customers cracked a drummer joke. After all, the inventor of Marshall Amplifiers — a musical symbol every bit as potent as the Les Paul — started his career behind the skins and originally opened a drum shop. Like all good businessmen, he saw a need that wasn’t being met, and met it: first, guitarists wanted him to carry their gear in his store, and then they complained to him that the best amplifiers made them sound too . . . good. When Marshall passed away, aged 88 in his beloved London last month, his legacy wasn’t one of progress or perfection: from a technical standpoint, you could even argue his amps were deliberately faulty because of their gritty tone. But revolutions are always a little messy, and his name was all over rock ‘n’ roll’s.

– Steve Forstneger

It’s been a few years since “Gear” reported on the new crop of commercial vans that could haul your gear and your bandmates. Since that time, Nissan and Chrysler got in the game. Here’s our wrap-up of this year’s models:

Nissan NV SERIES

Thumbing its nose at the iconic Ford E-Series and the Chevy Express, Nissan joined the commercial van business last year in the U.S.A. with its NV cargo model, built from the skivvies of Nissan’s Titan pick-up truck.

The rear-drive NV, with its body-on-frame traditional truck design, lists at a competitive $25,000. The NV1500 comes with a robust V-6 engine, while the larger NV2500 HD comes with a V-6 or V-8, and the NV3500 HD offers a V-8 and a raised roofline.

Unlike their gas-saving Asian and European counterparts and though gas prices are well north of $4 as this writing, Nissan is attempting to get in on Ford and Chevy’ market share with a big horsepower van, that churns out a meager 18 MPG around town. If you’re dragging all the band’s gear, including P.A., the Nissan may be the chariot for you. Details at nissanusa.com.

DODGE RAM C/V

Chrysler’s Ram truck division has tweaked an idea that it brought back in 2005: a fuel-saving cargo van, now called the Ram C/V, as a generic looking Dodge Caravan on steroids with solid window panels in the place of the rear glass and a reinforced low-level load area in the rear.

Though some critics have called this van an unimaginative and warmed-over family-mover, we think it makes complete sense considering pricey petrol and Dodge’ heritage as a heavy-duty truck maker.

Powered with a 3.6-liter Pentastar V-6 engine transformed into 283 horsepower and 260 lb/ft of peak torque, the V-6 is matched with a six-speed automatic transmission and offers about 22 overall city and highway MPG.

The Ram division added a commercial-tuned ride and load-leveling suspension along with a heavy-duty radiator and transmission oil cooler as part of the package. With 144.4 cubic feet of interior storage, and a 1,800 pound cargo payload plus a towing capability of up to 3,600 pounds, this soccer-mom van with its HGH innards, lowest-in-class $22K MSRP, and gas-sipping fuel usage may make the most sense in the age of conservation. Details are at dodgeram.com.

Ford Transit Connect

Ford’s Transit Connect is the most Euro-styled of all the new vans and its design, like the Dodge Ram C/V, stresses fuel-saving ability verses a heavy-duty payload and towing abilities.

The downside of its four-cylinder engine — though more fuel-efficient than its competitors’ (23 mpg overall in city and highway hauling) — means its payload of 1,600 pounds is the lowest in its class. It features a 2.0-liter four-cylinder good for 136 horsepower and 128 lb/ft of torque. A four-speed automatic tranny sends that power to the front wheels.
Features include include 15-inch steel wheels, blind-spot mirror, rear privacy glass, and air-conditioning. Power Group option adds keyless entry and full power accessories. Like any vehicle, you can trick this Ford out with tons of options. The base price falls into a $24,000 range. And details can be found at ford.com.

News & Notes

It must be spring, because the 4 Amigos are back with their Chicago Guitar Show May 17th and 18th at the DuPage Expo Center in St. Charles. As in previous years, you can buy, sell, and trade at the show. Check their website for details: texasguitarshow.com.

That same weekend, Rebeats is hosting their Chicago Drum Show just down the street at the Kane County Fairgrounds. It’s a drum circle you can be proud of. Details can be found at rebeats.com.

– David Gedge

From bizarro Eddie and JoBo wreaking havoc at the auto show to John Tesh backing up a yellow-haired “Christoper Walken” crooning holiday tunes to a wacky “Jerry Lewis” performing with the Million Dollar Quartet, the “WGN Morning News” dances the line between news and entertainment.

The bits are the genius of producer Jeff Hoover. The Second City alumnus and former “Jonathon Brandmeier Showgram” producer/performer/writer found himself out of work when Johnny B didn’t renew with WLUP in 2001 — and watching a lot of TV.

“I remember watching ['The WGN Morning News'] and thinking, ‘These are real people having real conversation and I would like to have them as neighbors, maybe grab some beers with them,’” he recalls. “I was smitten with their chemistry and natural ability to bust each other up and break balls over bad tosses and cheesy news teases. I started calling into their ‘Voicemail Frenzy’ segment, and they started playing my messages and using some of my show suggestions.”

“We ‘discovered’ Jeff when he started calling into our voicemail segment — doing impersonations. He was just hysterical,” says co-anchor Larry Potash, who met with Hoover at a bar and found him to be surprisingly normal. “We begged — and then threatened — management to hire Jeff, and the rest is history.”

Hoover — who likens his time with Johnny B to earning a PhD in comedy — initially contributed to the show on a per-diem basis. He was hired a year-and-a-half later as a producer/performer/writer (and recently signed a new one-year contract).

Potash says Hoover injected new life into the show. “I think when he came . . . we had all just started having children. It had become more difficult to go out and shoot bits for the show, and our energy was running low. Jeff was the creative spark that really pushed the show to the next level.”

Hoover easily made the transtion from radio to TV — where things have to be clear to the audience from the start. “Radio is easier to be spontaneous,” he explains. “However, some of my favorite moments are when the unexpected happens on live television. Tracy Morgan flopping himself up on onto the anchor desk and lifting up his shirt and pushing out his stomach and yelling that he’s pregnant is still priceless to me.”

His primary co-conspirator on the show is local comedian Mike Toomey, who plays Eddie to Hoover’s JoBo. In one bit, the pair ask locals about what they’re thankful for — peppering their interviews with plenty of enthusiastic “yeahs” and auto-insurance plugs. Eventually, they run into the real Eddie and JoBo — who play right along.

“This past Halloween, we were on our way to do our annual remote at Fantasy Costumes with Ana [Belaval] and Paul [Konrad} listening to Eddie and Jobo on the radio," Hoover explains. "Mike and I always loved poking fun at their auto-insurance commercials. We saw these Abba costumes and thought this is just stupid enough to work, and I slapped on a goatee and made our appearance alongside Ana . . . Mike and I started posing like them from the commercial and doing the lines, 'Did you know you can get auto insurance over the phone?'

"It was a hit. We couldn't believe it. The real Eddie and Jobo got the joke, and enjoy their clown clones. I asked them to make a cameo in one of our skits and they couldn't have been nicer: 'Yeahhhhhhhhhh!'"

But Hoover's favorite bit was Tom Hanks' apperance on the show last year (that clip and many others are at WGNtv.com). "I had a stupid idea to have different people lined up in the hallway in different costumes that represented different chracters from some of his favorite movie roles," he explains. "As a surprise and with no rehearsal, Entertainment Reporter Dean Richards escorts Tom down the hallway and the first person he sees is me dressed as Woody from Toy Story sweeping the floor. Tom's smile became a laugh, and he riffed on each of us as he made his way to the studio.

"He made us look good by going along with the idea. He could have just said 'whatever' and kept walking to the studio while rolling his eyes."

While Hoover has a lot of freedom on the show, not every idea flies. "

He adds, "I have to keep in mind that this is still a news show. Sometimes it's easy to forget that fact: 'What do you mean we have to kill the burlesque dancing monkeys because there is a dog running loose on the Eisenhower?'"

And what about that line?

"There is a line between news and comedy," he admits. "It keeps moving like a jump rope. Sometimes we can double dutch and sometimes we get nailed in the crotchtorial [sic] region. I think we ‘get it’ better than anyone else in town. We’re not ‘The Daily Show,’ but we don’t have 78 comedy writers.”

It seems to be working. The show consistently beats its competitors in the adult demos between 7 and 9a.m. — including “The Today Show.” Hoover says most of the audience feedback has been positive. “However, there’s always a few boo birds on the branch that crap on our clown car: ‘Stop goofing around and give me the weather. We don’t want to see that idiot in a neckbrace make a sandwich with his feet.’”

He adds, “I think it’s weirder seeing our competitors try to have fun with the news. Their idea of having fun is showing first-birthday photos and crayon weather drawings.”

Potash agrees. “Media has changed so much in the last 40 years and yet, most shows are as predictable now as they were in 1972. We try to create an atmosphere of unpredictability. We cross the line now and then, but that’s more interesting than another segment where the anchors make a tuna casserole. We take the show seriously, but we don’t take ourselves seriously.”

– Cara Jepsen

This article has been updated since it was originally posted.

Heavy South Siders Delightful Downfall — featuring Mike Kehoe, Joey Hammond, Nick Barelli, Alex Vincent, and Steve Eldridge — finished drum tracking at Chicago Recording Company in Chicago for Wild And Reckless after their recent sold-out show at House Of Blues. Radio programmer Tim Lamping of The Kat FM says “Fast-paced, aggressive hard rock with vocal harmonies are what really sets them apart.” The band formed last March and have been writing and playing shows ever since . . . Also at CRC, Chris Shepard and the team at American Mobile Studio headed down to South By Southwest in Austin to mix some shows at the Rolling Stone Rock Room. Videos can be seen at americanmobilestudio.com. . . . . Engineer Mat Lejeune tracked with Christian McBride and Sting at CRC’s Studio 4 . . . Veteran mixer Steve Weeder finished some tracks with Buddy Guy.

Eight-piece band River City Extension have released the new song “Welcome To Pittsburgh” in conjunction with a tour announcement. The track can be streamed or downloaded at paradm.co/pgh-cos. Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Your Anger was produced by Brian Deck (Modest Mouse, Iron & Wine, Josh Ritter, Secret Machines, Gomez) at Engine Studios in Chicago. The album captures River City Extension’s collision of frontman Joe Michelini’s evocative, intensely personal songwriting and the band’s effusive/explosive performances, building small symphonies around a rock-band core with trumpet, cello, mandolin, and banjo.

Paragon Studios, Inc. in Chicago sent a shout-out to their friend and client Rachel Sarah Thomas (a.k.a. K. Serra) on the release of her new singles, “Somebody To Love,” “Radio Waves,” and “The Queen”. All are now available for viewing on YouTube. The tracks were filmed exclusively at Paragon and all music was produced and mixed in Paragon’s Studio A by K. Serra and recorded by chief engineer Joe Connors. K. Serra is currently on tour throughout the Midwest in support of her new music. Visit her at facebook.com/KSerraMusic.

At BobDog Studios in Oak Park: Treeshakers finished their CD 2.0 . . . The Hurtin Kind began recording their debut album, featuring power-pop and roots-rock songs by singer/rhythm guitarist Matt Rhodes and singer/lead guitarist Hugo Teruel, with owner and engineer, Bill Kavanagh providing bass guitar and Dan Kripke on drums . . . Dav Ero continued work on his upcoming project, titled Hamlet, The Vampyr, with Sandy Lee on vocals, Andon Davis on guitars, Dave Mathis on keys, Clyde “Lightning” George on steel drums, and Michael Panico on drums . . . Rozanne Gewaar continued work on a pair of new solo singer/songwriter CDs: one sung in Afrikaans and the other in English . . . The Welcome mastered their newest EP, Honey, Honey . . . Cheryl Tomblin put in some more work on her upcoming EP . . . Folk singer James Bourke recorded his newest EP with the help of guitarist Peter C Budd, drummer Eddie Grzyb, and Bill Kavanagh on bass . . . Ex-Pezband (and many other bands) guitarist Dan Wade digitized some 30-year-old band tapes.

Hey Studiophiler: To get your studio or band listed in “Studiophile,” just e-mail info on who you’re recording or who’s recording you to ed [at] illinoisentertainer.com, subject Studiophile, or fax (773) 751-5051. We reserve the right to edit submissions for space. If you’re recording in May, let us know. Deadline for June 2012 issue is May 15th. We need your news, you need us to print it.

Much has been discussed about the direction that blues will take as the genre enters the crossroads of redefining itself while the last of the Delta bluesmen pass away. The past few decades have introduced more rock into the traditional blues sound, but soul has always been a more devoted offspring. Detroit’s singer/songwriter/guitarist Quintus McCormick proves just how heavenly the pairing can be on his third release, Still Called The Blues (Delmark). Of course, there’s nothing new about blues/soul, but McCormick pumps it with such a vibrant doses of contemporary edge that he sounds like the second coming of Johnny Taylor fortified with new-school swagger.

The key to McCormick’s winning blend of riffs and melodies isn’t his expert guitar work or his gritty vocals, but his songwriting. The album’s 13 tracks boast seven that are originals, and McCormick stamps each with his soulful style while adding unexpected tones to the covers.

The opening track, the ridiculously catchy “I Gotta Go,” mixes a smooth R&B groove with some nasty blues licks for the perfect combination of both genres. This is followed by a funky cover of Bobby Rush’s “What’s Good For The Goose,” which McCormick makes his own with a slightly tighter delivery and an intro explaining “Back in the day, I used to be a player.”

The CD is full of highlights, but standouts include the title song and its hot guitar solo, the mellow, horn-spiced melody of “What Am I Gonna Do,” the surprisingly breezy and lovely “That’s My Girl,” accented with a flute, the tender blues ballad “Always,” and a soul-filled rendition of the Beatles classic, “Oh! Darling.”

Still Called The Blues covers all of the bases: there’s straight ahead blues guitar riffs, there’s good storytelling, and there’s soul-drenched vocals. Contemporary blues doesn’t get better than that.

Appearing: May 3rd at Buddy Guy’s Legends (700 S. Wabash) in Chicago.

Acoustic blues will always be the very essence of the blues continuum, so preserving and promoting the form is essential. Thanks to Music Maker Relief Foundation, a treasure trove of senior acoustic-blues musicians have new avenues for their music. Under the umbrella of preserving Southern culture and American roots music, this public charity supports and expands the professional careers of hundreds of traditional musicians. Boo Hanks is one acoustic musician whose fascinating technique graces many more ears than just the ones in the small North Carolina towns where he previously only played.

Piedmont or East Coast blues is Hanks’ specialty, and he plays with the mastery of an 83-year-old man who started playing guitar at 8. The style is named for the Piedmont Plateau region that runs from Virginia to Atlanta, and features the older “frailing” technique that uses the thumb to pick out the bass and the forefinger to pick out the melody on the treble strings. The singular sound that results resembles two guitars playing when in reality, it’s just a lone acoustic. For this reason alone, Buffalo Junction (Music Maker) — which will be released on June 19th — should be required listening for blues, folk, and musical history fans alike. But there are other reasons. There’s the genial accompaniment of Carolina Chocolate Drops’ Don Flemons supplying backup vocals as well as jug, harp, and bones on the 12-track album. The Chocolate Drops are also part of the Music Maker foundation, and Hanks has opened for the popular young acoustic blues/folk group.

Another reason that makes Buffalo Junction such an important offering is that after a life spent working in Virginia’s tobacco fields and playing at small Carolinan barn dances and other social gatherings, Hanks shares music and experiences that are slowly fading from history. All of the tunes are traditional country blues, dating back at least seven or eight decades. Yet, Flemons’ presence helps it cross generational lines.

The opening song, “Railroad Bill,” displays Hanks’ dazzling pickin’ skill immediately, with his traditional crooning adding even more texture. Most of the tracks reveal the hardscrabble existence of African-American life in the early last century as well as the requisite romantic escapades. A particular highlight is “Move To Outskirts Of Town,” where Hanks laments the hovering presence of another man: “I’ll tell you one thing baby/we’re gonna move away from here/I don’t need no ice man/gonna buy myself a Frigidaire/I don’t want no Heebie Jebbies always hanging around/it might sound funny baby as funny as funny can be/but if we ever have children? I want them all to look like me.” Flemons joins in with jug playing and at the end, and a round of collaborative laughter. The CD mines the pairing of Hanks’ expressive country crooning and Flemons innovative musicianship for a singular musical experience.

Curtis Salgado’s knockout soul vocals are unparalleled in any genre, and he showcases just how powerful they can be in his latest, appropriately named release, Soul Shot (Alligator). That he chooses a host of performers known for funky, soulful performances to cover — including George Clinton, Bobby Womack, and The O’Jays — is telling and indicative of the heavy soul focus. Socking listeners with a rousing cover of Bobby Womack’s “What You Gonna Do?” for the opener, there’s no faltering on any of the 11 tracks with the Clinton cover of “Getting’ To Know You” filled with hip-shaking, sweat-soaked funk and Salgado’s soaring vocals.

– Rosalind Cummings-Yeates

Personally, we think the “turn of the century” was accomplished by Dale Earnhart back in ‘88, but not many others think of the phrase that way. Tim Eriksen, The Crickle, JD McPherson, and Joel Henderson all transport us to times passed this weekend.

In the case of Tim Eriksen, waaaaay back. A look at the New Englander’s new album title, Banjo, Fiddle And Voice, might suggest he’s some sort of bluegrass peddler, when in fact his influences go back to the Civil War. A master of old shape-note singing (a reason for which he was invited to contribute to the Cold Mountain soundtrack), Eriksen has become an invaluable link to bygone American folk traditions despite his relative youth. We’re still partial to his decade-old rendition of “The Cumberland And The Merrimac,” though Banjo, Fiddle And Voice is filled with never-quaint renditions of some famous tunes, including a version of “Tom Dooley” that makes The Kingston Trio sound like the patterned-shirt/pleated pants outfit they truly were. (Sunday@Uncommon Ground Wrigleyville.)

The assertion that Elvis Presley stole rock ‘n’ roll from black musicians always struck me as odd, because though it’s clear where he got the sound, Presley never sounded especially black. It’s a good think JD McPherson wasn’t around then, because he sounds exactly like Little Richard. Signs And Signifiers (Rounder) might find itself criticized for its contrivances to sound like it was recorded in the ’50s, but those quibbles fade once you start dancing. While his lack of innovation says the music isn’t terribly alive inside him, for a corpse it sure can move. (Friday@Lincoln Hall with Mar Caribe.)

In memory of prolific local musician “Crazy” Tim Rutkowski, Rabid Badger Records began surreptitiously dispersing free copies of Love, A Crazy Compilation – a set that collects Rutkowski’s career work including time with Wilco’s late Jay Bennett, his time in The Eisenhowers with Ike Reilly, in The Crickle with Erich McMann, and more. The compilation will be available this weekend, when The Crickle reunites for the first time in 20 years. (Saturday@Gallery Cabaret.)

Local ex-pat Joel Henderson comes home, and whoops! What’s that on the table? A new album. Locked Doors & Pretty Fences’s title’s two halves are a pair of mini albums on one disc, though thematically they share the same soulful, singer/songwriter principles. Echoes of The Band’s “The Weight” can be startling particularly this week, and it doesn’t help Henderson that the lyrics to his “Heartless Kisses” don’t transfer an equal amount of heft. But as a companion to the instruction manual-less world of divorced and single 40somethings, it works. Henderson’s been intimate enough with life’s stresses that he doesn’t need to relive them for the sake of gravitas. (Sunday@Space with Kim Richey.)

– Steve Forstneger

Fozzy Bear’s favorite band, the Waco Brothers, have produced their long-awaited collaboration with Paul Burch this week and, as luck would have it, have a party for it this weekend. Also hovering: Diana Ross and Electric Guest.

Admittedly, the fact that Great Chicago Fire (Bloodshot) does not surround a narrative for local history takes the Waco/Burch combo down a notch. The album’s much better for putting out fires, those that are temporarily subdued by 12 ounces of suds. Not sounding like they labored too much over any particular track, Fire sounds like a live album in search of an audience: ducking its head in and out of doors with rough melodies and enough chords to separate verse from chorus but not too many to keep it from moving quickly. “Monterey” gets borderized and immediately brings out everyone’s debts to country & western, though don’t go thinking “Flight To Spain” has anything to do with Daniel; “Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall” is exactly what you think, and how it should sound. (Thursday@FitzGerald’s.)

Diana Ross‘ second self-titled album (her 1970 solo debut was later renamed for “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough”; this 1976 LP has just been reissued) may not have been the peak of her powers, but it was the last time she’d be so current and complete. Though she had firmly entrenched herself in the raging new waters of adult-contemporary (evidenced by the tacked-on single/theme to Berry Gordy’s Mahogany film, in which she starred), Diana Ross would open her doors to disco (“Love Hangover”), sported some burlesque-worthy pop (“Kiss Me Now”), an Ashford & Simpson track Carole King would be proud of (“You’re My Good Child”), and Jackson 5 funk (“One Love In My Lifetime”). (Friday@The Venue in Hammond, IN.)

When Danger Mouse works as a producer, you can hear his presence. Take the last two Black Keys albums, or Norah Jones’ new one: the benefitting artist is working with a whole new pallette. So the issue with DM giving a hand to Electric Guest’s debut, Mondo (Downtown), is parsing who’s responsible for what. “This Head I Hold” and “Waves” could have come from the sessions for either Gnarls Barkley album, though there’s no confusing Asa Taccone for Cee-Lo. In the grand scheme, it shouldn’t matter: this is a team working on these songs, and if they’re good they’re good. Half of them are. The nine-minute “Troubleman,” which sounds like the longest Josh Rouse track in the world, underscores a strummy blah that consumes the bad half, where no one put in enough work. (Friday@Schubas with Brother George.)

– Steve Forstneger

The cover portrait on Lambchop’s Mr. M (Merge) is not Vic Chesnutt (Chesnutt, for one, did not own such a hat), and he is not mentioned at anytime during the album. But the songwriter’s death is its centerpiece, and it captures with grace Chesnutt’s difficult but rewarding (for us, at least) existence.

Chesnutt and Lambchop principle Kurt Wagner became fast friends after Lambchop backed the former up on The Salesman And Bernadette (incidentally, the album that got Chesnutt dropped from Capitol), and his death is said to have hit Wagner hard. The resultant Mr. M becomes the most stately and sedate catalog entry since, O.K., their last outing Ohio (OH). But the only other person making mature, widescreen chamber pop this affecting is Robert Hawley, and Lambchop get extra points for not using Roy Orbison as a base. (Tuesday@Lincoln Hall with Darin Gray.)

– Steve Forstneger

Shortly after the Kaiser Chiefs opened their concert at House of Blues last Thursday, vocalist Ricky Wilson offered a cheeky introduction for the first single from the band’s latest release by declaring, “It’s new, it’s brilliant, and it’s called ‘On The Run.’” The capacity crowd readily embraced the melodic satire from Start The Revolution Without Me, and everything else the band played in a rousing 90-minute set. Kaiser Chiefs may not be as highly regarded in the States as they are in their native England, but they do have an avid following in Chicago.

“Guys, guys, guys, settle down!” Wilson teased as the audience continuously clapped and sang along. The performance had the feel of partying in an English pub, although, definitely amplified. Despite having five successful and critically acclaimed CDs under their belts, the musicians exuded a youthful intensity. Wilson and drummer Nick Hodgson, who added spirited backup vocals, were particularly active in engaging the crowd. Keyboardist Nick “Peanut” Baines, sporting a fedora with blinking lights, gave songs like “Good Days Bad Days” and “Everyday I Love You Less And Less” an infectious new-wave energy.

Much of the appeal of catchy songs like “I Predict A Riot” and “The Angry Mob” is the way the lyrics could serve as slogans at a political rally. Wilson brought them to life, pumping his fist, or dodging and weaving like a prize fighter. At one point, he left the stage for a new vantage point on top of the bar. After revving the audience with a barrage of fast tunes like “Kinda Girl You Are” and the earlier hit single, “Ruby,” it was surprising that Kaiser Chiefs finished on a more sedate note with “Love’s Not A Competition (But I’m Winning).” But the audience didn’t seem to mind. After a pair of well-received encores, Wilson thanked the crowd and tossed aside his mic. Those familiar with Kaiser Chiefs no doubt left satisfied, while it’s safe to predict newcomers to the band’s joyous riot performance style would want to go out and stock up on Kaiser Chiefs LPs.

Opening act Empires muscled their way through a 35-minute set that blended hard rock with elements of grunge. The Chicago/New York-based band performed songs from its most current CD, Garage Hymns, as well as the upcoming EP, Can’t Steal Your Heart Away. The title track of that EP, and other hard-hitting songs, were delivered via thundering drums, shimmering guitars, and a charismatic vocalist Sean Van Vleet, who could howl as well as work in a more soulful vein.

– Terrence Flamm

On any given weeknight, Chicago music venues host dozens of open mic nights, letting novice musicians and open mic “jobbers” hone their chops in front of friends and a few foes.

Niles-based Shure, Inc. — best known for word-class microphones and earphones — is ramping up the open-mic night this coming week (the 23rd and 24th) at both Uncommon Ground locations in Chicago. Locals have the chance to showcase themselves in a national competition taking place at a total of 23 venues throughout the week. Participants can also register to win one of 25 sets of Shure SE315 Sound Isolating Earphones. The event begins at 8 p.m., and both performers and spectators are encouraged to participate. Details can be found at www.shure.com/openmicnight

(Monday @Uncommon Ground – Clark St; Tuesday @Uncommon Ground – Devon Ave)

Once you’re through sullying the holiness of Record Store Day by celebrating its more consumerist aspects, Brendan Kelly, Modeselektor, Ed Sheeran, Serge Devant, and Anya Marina will throw their arms around you and try to get you in the door.

Old punks don’t die: they go acoustic. It certainly seems to be the trend in Chicago, as we’ve witnessed Dan Andriano, Josh Caterer, Jon Langford (to a degree), and Chris McCaughan pull up chairs. So is it McCaughan’s Broadways/Lawrence Arms accomplice Brendan Kelly’s turn? Pass. On I’d Rather Die Than Live Forever (Red Scare), Kelly’s just as raspy and pissy as usual — the songs merely have more of a barroom-rock swagger. He advises, “Bitch, quit’cher fuckin’ crying” on opener “Suffer The Children, Come Unto Me,” and the menacing “A Man With The Passion Of Tennessee Williams” bears sonic resemblance to The Replacements’ version of Kiss’ “Black Diamond” minus the metal riff. All 90 seconds of “American Vagina” take a swipe at Green Day, while “Covered In Flies” could be an ode to Andriano’s work in Alkaline Trio — work Kelly clearly thinks Andriano should man up and get back to. (Saturday@Beat Kitchen with The Sidekicks and This Is This.)

Radiohead fans who jumped on Modeselektor’s 2007 collaboration with Thom Yorke (“The White Flash”) and then last year’s double reprisal should know this: the Berliner duo don’t always sound like they’re just to the left of Kid A. It shows you just how crucial that casting can be when hiring a vocalist, because earlier on Monkeytown you could mistake them for The Digital Underground or MF Doom: such is the effect of Busdriver and Anti-Pop Consortium’s verses. They handle ambient techno (“Blue Clouds,” “War Cry”) as well as spliced up dancefloor grinds (“Grillwalker”), and congratulations on finding more in dubstep (“Berlin,” “Humanized”) than an excuse to compose a drop. (Saturday@Metro with Egyptrixx and Abstract Science.)

Toward the end of his Elektra debut, Ed Sheeran taunts, “You need me, I don’t need you.” In reality, if something terrible ever happened to Sheeran, the industry could easily manufacture another of him. On the first two cuts of June’s forthcoming +, his own assembly line produces such notebook wordplay like “under the upperhand” in “The A Team,” and “on the right side of the wrong bed” in “Drunk,” and it’s not long before he resorts to claptrap like “You will never know just how beautiful you are to me” and “This is the start of something beautiful” so he can get a little pantyrub. His angle is that of a John Mayer who drinks too much, a role he assumes as convincingly as Freddie Prinze Jr. playing a bookworm. A surprising, Twista-like rap on “U.N.I.” provides evidence that he’s slightly more than a cut-out, but the ease and willingness with which he shrinks back into type is depressing. (Saturday@Aragon with Snow Patrol.)

Electronic music — specifically big, anthemic European-style house and techno — loves it some videos with barely dressed women cavorting, bending, washing cars, eating cherries in ways that take more energy and tongue manuevering than the calories and vitamins that the tiny fruit offers. Russian-born/New York-bred DJ Serge Devant recently released a video for his “On Your Own,” and it stars genetically advantaged model Anna Vishnevskaya. Her role in the clip is to make the male protagonist feel like shit. Not by teasing him sexually, but ditching him the day he gets an eviction notice and his life starts going down the toilet. On the surface, Devant’s music doesn’t show much, but Rewind (Ultra) convinces once you get deeper. It also boasts an unusual feature for this genre: a cover, here of Finley Quaye and William Orbit’s “Dice.” (Saturday@Spy Bar.)

Given that she looks like a blond Shelley Duvall, it’s hard to believe that Anya Marina has trouble getting a crush to “Notice Me.” The opening of her sophomore outing, Felony Flats (Chop Shop/Atlantic), plays similarly and frustratingly coy with Veruca Salt-ish power-pop. Sensing she could do songs like “Body Knows Best” and “Notice Me” in her sleep, Marina gets out of bed for the wildly divergent “Believe Me I Believe,” where her associations and friendships with members of Spoon, Modest Mouse, and Telekinesis seem to make more sense. It’s a haunted track that bleeds into the equally disconcerting “Hot Button” and then the rest of the album. But why you would tempt fate with two throwaways like the openers is beyond reason. (Monday@Lincoln Hall with Eric Hutchinson.)

– Steve Forstneger