WE ARE NOW far too drunk on sunshine to even consider dragging ourselves indoors with the other albino music moles, but in the earlier, hazier


Days of our nights

WE ARE NOW far too drunk on sunshine to even consider dragging ourselves indoors with the other albino music moles, but in the earlier, hazier days of last week, we did manage to keep our eyes on a few things that were not blue and filled with fluffy marshmallow clouds. For your consideration: Bevis Frond's Nick Saloman, the only guy who could assure J Mascis a place in the winner's circle at a rock and roll beauty contest, played a stripped-down, semi-acoustic set to a sizable and adoring Sit & Spin crowd on Tuesday night. Just what is it about the properly executed English accent that sounds so instantly and unequivocally intellectual? We don't know for sure, but Saloman's set came off like a PBS version of Singers and Songwriters. Accompanied only by his bass player, Nick got in some mean guitar solos between verses and chorus, when his British lilt careened smartly over stories about "shallow cow" ex-girlfriends who dumped him over missing teeth and botched dinner dates. Can you imagine? With polite nods to Mary Lou Lord, the Bostonian guitar-in-a-subway-station indie popster who popularized many a Frond tune, Saloman played "He'd Be a Diamond" and "Lights Are Changing." . . . We continued our Anglomania with Andy Smith at the Baltic Room on Thursday and were once again intrigued by the passion of hip, pasty Brits for American rare groove and the type of old soul that is now, unfortunately, the stuff of Burger King ads. Sure, the Portishead DJ extraordinaire did scratch stuff up, but just like recent Seattle appearances from Rae and Christian's Mark Rae, Smith seems to have too much reverence for the sound to really get his hands dirty. It's nice to see artists delving into the roots of their music, and even if it wins no big prizes for innovation, Smith's appearance still beat the pants off the one-note dub-obsession that was Smith and Mighty's recent Baltic showing. . . . On

Friday, while the Speakeasy burned just a few blocks away, the Sit & Spin got hot as soon as the Turn-Ons hit the stage. The gifted, eclectic crew played a strong show complete with a few new tunes and Ann-Margret shakin' her thing on the accompanying screen. His skin aglow from a brief vacation in Spain, lead singer Travis made his usual sassy snaps and slipped out of his fab open-toed (but so tight!) platforms for the heartfelt finale, "Success." May it be yours, Turn-Ons. . . . And from Mr. Andrew Bonazelli, the on-the-spot Jim Foreman of rock, reports on Stabbing Westward's bizarro appearance: "Their vocalist, Chris Hall, has a new look that is frighteningly similar to the jock-looking dude from Crazy Town. Both evidently shave their chests and armpits, then apply some sort of lacquer—perhaps pomade. I think at one point he said that his birthday was tomorrow (Friday), and that Trent Reznor's is today (Thursday). Everyone applauded and then Hall said, 'That little bastard does everything a day before I do.' Understatement of the millennium." . . . And now, the show that wasn't: Those who lined up for the long-awaited Dee Dee Ramone gig will just have to wait some more. The punk rock legend was AWOL, and, according to a miffed fan, "No one got their money back! Twelve bucks! Word around the club was that he was so screwed up on drugs the night before at the Satyricon in Portland, they couldn't get him to LEAVE the stage," our eyewitness continues. "It was actually kind of fun anyway, witnessing violent drunken fights and the near-riot crowd displeasure. I haven't seen worse musical acts in a long, long time. It was so bad it was funny. The second act was some weird hybrid of the Village People and Flock of Seagulls—rumor was it was actually the L.A. Guns. There was one guy walking around wearing a leather jacket that said 'HOT STUFF' on the back, and he was wearing chaps that showed off

his near-bare ass." . . . Local news: Living up to the troubadour tradition, one-time SW cover boy John Wesley Harding is moving to New York. The U.K.-born singer-songwriter came to Seattle via the Bay Area a few years back, but now he's following the well-traveled path between Seattle and NYC. . . . Also, we are muy contento to anounce the return of Muy Triste, the band who managed to nearly upstage trembling chanteuse Chan Marshall—that poster girl for panic attacks—at her own Cat Power gig at the Croc last year, and in one of their first public performances, no less. Now with the addition of unlikely but excellent bassist Aaron Huffman of Harvey Danger, the band will stage their triumphant return on May 31, following frontwoman Sarah Polle's appearance with guerrilla poem project Typing Explosion's debut night of their play Dear Diane at On the Boards. Busy lady.

Contributors this week: Laura Learmonth, David Massengill, Andrew Bonazelli, Stewart Williams

Send sightings, news flashes, and bitchy bits to nights@seattleweekly.com.

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