To help my sonically challenged roommate and hetero-life mate out, here's what you should really be listening to.

The Thermals, The Body, The Blood, The Machine. Portland is becoming my new musical Shangri-La and these guys have a lot to do with it. Very political punk in the vein of Ted Leo + The Pharmacists.

Heartless Bastards, All This Time. Hailing from mighty Dayton, OH, this threesome is the balls. Erika Wennerstrom has a voice that is like velvety whipped cream. What she may lack in range, she sure as shit makes up for in heart. They were discovered by Patrick Carney, the excellent drummer for The Black Keys. The title track is currently on a Cinemax commercial. No, not that one, sickos. If you like Chrissie Hynde or Polly Jean Harvey, please for your daughter's sake, buy this album.

Of Montreal, Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer? If you told me that I would like a dance record full of break-up songs that all belong at a gay disco, you would need to forgive my cynicism. However, it would be me swallowing my machismo because as it turns out, I didn't know I liked gay dance break-up albums. Win-Win in my book.

Bloc Party, Weekend in the City. Not the sophomore slump I was expecting. I wasn't completely interested in buying this at first, but a few personal recommendations changed my mind. Some call it a bit darker than their debut (and I wouldn't disagree) but if you think about it, their first was fairly dark as well.

Bright Eyes, Live at Murphy's Lounge, 2/24/07. I've been to my fair share of Bright Eyes shows. And I've defended this sad bastard til my tongue was bloody. And this is exactly why. Throw a secret show at a venue not known for much outside of blues and reggae. Release only 200 tickets. Get dumped on by six inches of snow. Most of the material came from the upcoming release, Cassadega. And most were quite strong to powerfully strong. Similar in tune to the countrified, I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning from 2004, but with an upbeat twist. I've never seen validity in the comparisons between Conor Oberst and Bob Dylan, but this show opened my eyes to why people make them. Mike Mogis made good things happen with every instrument he touched. Not only can Nate Walcott play a pretty impressive trumpet, his work on the organ and keyboards was pretty neat. Some new fiddler joined the lineup (he looks like the old bartender at the Holiday Lounge but with curly hair. You know the one--he always served us "coffee" past close. That one.) and had some pretty badass solos (I just realized solos is a palindrome.). The old drummer for the Decemberists, Rachel Somethingorother, held her own on the kit, though none of the setlist seemed excruciatingly drum heavy. Winding out the lineup was my main man Jake Bellows of Neva Dinova and after hours renown on bass and rhythm guitars. That motorboatin' son of a bitch. Like my night couldn't get any better. They played a couple of songs from the Bright Eyes/Neva Dinova split. Made this reporter sing along. The set ended with a piss break for the band. Everyone thought the show was over, and if it had been, no one could have complained. So as everyone refills their beers, Oberst takes the stage and proclaims, "Fuck you guys. We didn't need any encore applause. We're playing anyway." The crowd erupts in laughter, giving each other self-congratulatory smiles that only indie scenesters can give to each other. I received one or two. I can't lie. I'm not sure if it was the cozy venue, or the phenomenally fluid setlist, or the $2.50 Amstel Lights, but this was the best Bright Eyes show that I've ever seen. And apparently I lucked out because after driving through the night to Chicago, Pitchfork reported the band put on a bit of a lackluster performance the next day.

Labels: Bright Eyes, musc, Neva Dinova