We get there and the cover is eight bucks, which is a pretty quality price for an awesome band like Young Widows. I haven’t seen them in a year, I’m excited. We shell out the cover and go to the bar. A tallboy of PBR is four dollars with a weak tip. The first band hasn’t started playing yet. The bar is starting to fill up. We go back outside to smoke a cigarette. A guy with a moustache looks at me and laughs to his friend. Go back inside. Let’s have another PBR.

We manage to get the big important booth normally occupied by women you can’t have. My friend gives me a back rub. It feels pretty good. Hot girl at the table across from me makes “bleh” face at her friend. Get up, enter bathroom. Nobody around me, score, easy pee. Exit shitter, walk towards bar. I see cute girl from history class. She has a nose ring and studies “gender shit.” I told a bad joke first day of class and never talked to her again. I walk by and she glances at her wrist. Another PBR. First band is up. They’re mathy, angular, clear and accessible. Guitar is delayed and bass is dirty. They’re really good. One rhythm sounds exactly like “Formerer” so rest of set spent shit-talking band with friend. Cigarette. Girl from history class comes outside and smokes cigarette into a wall five feet away from me. I talk all loud and smart to my friends.

Go back in. Words like “moog” and “alesis” are scattered all about the stage. Big afros, big facial hair. Eerie lights. PBR, Yukon. They start and I know I’m supposed to be scared. Oscillating vocals and guitar solos and big, old music machines and the drummer is standing up, dude. Incredible; sends ocd-addled brain into powerdrive. Slam half of friend’s PBR. Cigarette. Brain going wild, bar super full. Everybody here is much, much cooler than I am. Lungs hurt. Throw up in road. Take a deep breath.

Re-enter hell where a drummer has been playing the same beat for 10 minutes. PBR. Bass has been playing for three. Guitar for zerHOLY SHIT THAT’S THE LOUDEST THING I’VE EVER HEARD his guitar looks just like STEVE ALBINI’S dude. Right ear = tinnitus. Bassist repeats “there are others like you” over and over and over again. This show rocks. Girl with nose ring still at bar. Tall guy standing up next to her, talking loudly. She looks up at him expressionless. Gotta pee. Middle slot open. Gotta cig. Pee on side of Turf Club. Cough. Cough, cough.

Re-enter. She’s finally here. Pretend not to notice. Air drum until band ends. Our eyes meet. She’s drunk so she talks to me. She’s wearing blue jeans and a bright shirt. She does not have a nose ring. I sit and for the first time tonight, I’m psyched. How’ve you been? Good. We laugh about I don’t know what and then she talks to my friend. Get out of here. PBR. Cigarette. I’ll do it myself and I don’t care who comes with me. Young Widows are up. I go up front. Thick bass shuts everyone up. Those cabinets are huge and have lights in them. Guitars cut through the crowd like a rusty saw through a stray dog. It hurts. The crowd stands still. Nobody knows the words. Everything hurts. I’m instructed to Just Forget ‘Em. I turn around for a final look. She’s in the forbidden booth yelling loudly into friend’s ear. Girl with nose ring is nowhere to be seen. Guy at the bar yells “sad dude sausage party!” Entire band looks at bar. I look at myself. “Nothing new, right,” replies the guy holding the coolest-looking guitar you’ve ever seen.

The palpable surrealism hung in the thick, warm air inside Northrop on November 4th, like a humid curtain all around us. The unforgettable text message from my sister read: “O got Ohio, it’s pretty much over.” The crowd was giddy with the knowledge that a once-in-a-generation moment was upon us. And we were seeing Bob Dylan!

Dylan, it’s sufficient to say, was Dylan.

A bad-ass fedora hat hid his face, but his voice and harmonica reverberated deep into the auditorium, sinking into our ears and echoing the pivotal significance of the coming moment. I’ve been told Dylan’s not a big talker. Indeed, aside from singing, he didn’t say much save band introductions, and a brief comment containing only one discernable word – “change,” which was greeted warmly.

No electoral map tracked our hero’s progress. Instead, after the encore song, a subdued, bluesy version of “Like a Rolling Stone,” the glow of dozens of cell phones and one laptop, told us that yes, Obama had surmounted 270, reaching at first report 297. Yes, we would have our first black president.

To say the air changed would be an understatement. It was more like a circuit cable ignited and sent electricity into the crowd. Walking out of the auditorium was a sea of smiles. The muted CNN screen in the corridor confirmed it. The universe revolved around one word, six letters, three syllables.

It was more than special, better than beautiful. The air outside was warm, and the world that greeted us was different than the one we had left behind when we had first entered the Northrop that night.

Jazz is one hell of a genre. A realm of music all its own, Jazz exists in a different dimension. One could get lost in its many subgenres and forget other music exists at all. Jazz can be as jarring as Metal or as smooth as the voice of Billy Holiday, as mathematical as Electronica or as chaotic as Noise.

Improvisational Jazz embraces freedom and creativity as much as the common drug addled jam band. The genre that redefines genre – its instrumentalists range from the conservative to the insane.

Despite its madness and spontaneity, Jazz is embraced as an upscale art form, fooling the rich and classy into dressing up for what amounts to a mind blowing, face melting show. Indeed, if the volume was increased and the distortion switched on, the entire crowd would undoubtedly leave with scowls and shaking fists. The live Jazz experience is indispensible.

A new series put together by the Hennepin Theatre Trust and the Dakota Jazz Club is bringing three of the world’s most renowned jazz musicians to Minneapolis. Over the course of the next two months, the Generations of Jazz series will allow music lovers to experience jazz music at its finest. Each of the three invited musicians is considered a child prodigy, and will bring their own brand of modern jazz to the Dakota.

Russian pianist Eldar Djangirov kicked off the series on Wednesday, October 29th. Eldar was trained classically by his mother, beginning at the age of three. After moving from Kyrgyzstan to Kansas City, he began to receive increasing attention as a musician. He has booked shows around the world, and is respected as one of the youngest and most proficient piano virtuosos today.

Candlelight flickered shadows across the walls and faces at the Dakota Jazz Club. The mellow ambience suited the crowd well – most of its members were in their forties and beyond. Had the stage not been present, the Dakota would have appeared to be an upscale restaurant. The drum kit, electric bass, and grand piano seemed somewhat out of place surrounded by hushed voices of quiet conversation.

Eldar approached the stage nonchalantly after a brief introduction. If it hadn’t been for his formal attire, which he wore with a certain air of forced protocol, he would have been the last person I’d pick in a line-up of famous jazz musicians. It was then that I realized the only thing separating Eldar and myself was prodigious musical talent and a stage. At that moment, the three youngest people in the Dakota Jazz Club were myself, Wake photographer John Hooper, and, at 21 years old, the man sitting at the piano. The full weight of this fact rested in the back of my mind as I experienced an hour of perfectly executed jazz music from someone just a year older than myself.

It was one of those rare experiences in which, for once, my ears played tricks on my eyes. What I was seeing was one man behind a piano. What I was hearing was at least three. Crawling bass lines bounced below dancing melodies on a foundation of climbing chords. I was immediately convinced that Eldar must have at least two brains, and that each of his fingers must have its own set of hands.

Eldar’s musical style gives away his age. It’s extremely energetic but not unrefined. Like all jazz, his music is like an epic novel. Eldar creates tension and relief with constantly changing atmospheres. He is able to increase speed and intensity without ever sacrificing subtlety and accuracy. Where experimental jazz musicians would break into complete disorder, Eldar retains consistent structural perfection.

While jazz concert tickets can be a tad more costly than the average punk show, the series offers multiple performances at various times and prices. Usually, the later a show runs, the cheaper the ticket, so it’s possible to experience the madness while on a budget.

The next Generations of Jazz show, featuring jazz pianist Ahmad Jamal, will be at the Dakota on November 24th. For more information visit www.dakotacooks.com.

The Dakota Jazz Club

The Dakota Jazz Club has been around for 23 years. Having moved from its original location in St. Paul five years ago, it’s now located in Minneapolis and contributes to the thriving nightlife of the city’s downtown.

The Dakota is open seven days a week with live music performances every night. The club has hosted numerous high-profile acts over the years, including jazz-fusion guitarist John McLaughlin, rock and roll hall-of-famers Booker T and the MG’s, trumpeter Roy Hargrove, and singer Boz Scaggs. Local favorites The Bad Plus make an annual stop each November, dating back to 2000 when they were still dubbed the Dave King Trio.

The Dakota is primarily a jazz club, but has recently diversified its style to include world music, rock and roll, and even hip-hop (local B-Girl Desdamona) into their impressive roster. With praise from The New York Times, Esquire, Time, Downbeat, and The Wall Street Journal, the Dakota is a nationally-recognized venue where many top acts request to play. However the Dakota is known for more than just the music.

“Our calling card is we’re the jazz club with the best food,” says Nick Lane, the manager at the Dakota. He points out the impressive menu and wine list, which make the Dakota not only a great place to see a show but also a great place to dine.

“We have an outstanding chef, Jack Riebel,” says Lane. Winner of the Masters in the Marketplace Celebrity Chef Cook Off in 2005 and the national American Cheese Society’s “Iron Man Cook Off” in 2006, Riebel is a seasoned Twin Cities cook who is recognized as one of the best in the state. Riebel’s presence in the kitchen is “the kind of thing that sets [the Dakota] apart from a lot of other places,” Lane states.

On a chilly Oct. 3, I filed into Chicago’s historic music venue, The Vic, to hear Clarence Greenwood,
a.k.a. Citizen Cope, play his first national solo acoustic tour.

A plethora of sounds ranging from blues and folk to reggae and hip-hop can all be found in Cope’s
music. His funk, style and simplistic beats can be rooted back to the genre of “Go-Go,” Washington
D.C.’s original music scene that emerged in the 1970s led by famous funk and groove master Chuck
Brown.

The concert was an all-around humbling musical experience, which showcased the raw vocal and instrumental talent of Cope. “Bullet and a Target,” off the album The Clarence Greenwood Recordings,
“speaks about amputee’s in Freetown, Sierra Leone’s” to violence that corrupts the streets of American’s own cities, and how people are constantly stuck in situations “between a bullet and a target.”

“Let the Drummer Kick” was definitely the high point of the night. The accompaniment of the piano
against the backdrop of a hip-hop style beat mixed with lyrics reminiscent of pure poetry shook the crowd as everybody became in sync with the rhythm of the music.

As unique as his beats and instrumentals are, he also brings a lot of culture back into music. He refers
to politics, education, the people that he’s met, everyday experiences and art, all to create what he describes as a “story” from his music.

In one of his popular songs, “Pablo Picasso,” off the album, Clarence Greenwood Recordings, he sings about an eccentric relationship: “The woman that I love, is forty feet tall, she’s a movie star, she’s all in the papers” and “she never bats an eye, when someone takes her picture.” These lyrics, many fans believe, are about a man who has a certain love-connection with a piece of art.

The smoky voice with a subtle hint of a Brooklyn accent is truly the distinctive trait of Cope’s music – a trait that is restoring simplistic beats and reviving an art that has been lacking in mainstream music for decades.

In a local scene as diverse and talented as that of the Twin Cities, Marvelle somehow manages to stand out among the rest. The rock band “with indie and classical sprinkled on top” consists of John Holm on violin, Derek Winter on bass, Brian Herb on drums, and Linnea Maas doing live painting. The band configuration itself sets Marvelle apart from other local musicians. While they sound heavy, with thundering bass lines bellowing beneath haunting violin riffs, they retain the composure of classical music, and produce a full sound despite stripped-down instrumentation. Holm and Winter alternate singing on songs, each providing a differing vocal style that compliments the other. Winter comes
off as a conductor live, waving his hands and making eye contact with the other members. As the musicians perform, Maas paints a canvas that adds a visual element to the show, playing off the music and adding a unique element to the stage show. After interviewing the band at The Wienery,

The Wake caught their performance at the Triple Rock, where they shared the stage with other
bands that featured the violin. It became clear that Marvelle’s use of the instrument is unique compared to most others in town. Holm humbly eschewed Winter ‘s gauntlet-dropping proclamation that he was the “best violinist in town.”“Better not say that,” Holm warned. “People are going to start challenging me to duels.” Though he is a particularly talented violin player, what sets Marvelle apart from other bands is the role of the violin. Most bands tend to incorporate string instruments as an atmospheric element or a compliment to the lead instruments, delegating them to the background as support for the more traditional guitar-bassdrum setup.

“Whenever I see that, it’s really frustrating as a violinist,” says Holm, who does just the opposite in Marvelle. The violin comes to the forefront, belting attentiongrabbing leads without becoming overbearing. The band manages to retain a sound that is captivating while not overly bombastic. Marvelle’s songs, which stray from the standard rock format, often resemble waltzes and incorporate multiple time signatures.

“I got so sick of playing the 4/4 rock thing in guitar bands; it gets old after a while,” Winter says, and it’s clear from Marvelle’s sound that the band was looking to create something different from the norm of rock music. Marvelle has done collaborations with spoken word artist Isis, who takes over vocal duties for one of the band’s songs, blending poetry and hip-hop elements into the band’s overall baroque sound. This works surprisingly well and reiterates the fact that Marvelle has opened themselves to new ideas and notions of music. Incorporating live art into the band’s set each night is another example of their individuality.

“I firmly believe in the blending of different art styles,” Winter iterates. “I think that’s what the future is.” Artist Maas completes a full canvas by the time Marvelle’s set is done, which is no small feat. “She gets cat calls every once in a while,” Winter recalls. “’Turn up more art in the monitor!’” She was nervous about painting onstage with the band initially, which requires a very different approach than painting offstage.

“Derek was asking me for a month to get on stage, trying to convince me I could handle it,” she says. Seeing Maas in action, it is clear she can handle it. Her art has a vibrancy that works sublimely in conjunction with the music surrounding it. “I usually have a pretty good idea of what I’m doing before I get up there. I know their music so well that I just daydream to it all day long.” Her connection to the music is strong and it comes out in the art, which can be seen on the band’s mySpace page and is put up for auction at the end of performances. The live art angle comes off neither as a gimmick or an unnecessary flourish, but a fully-fledged element element of the band, another aspect of the group’s dynamic that extends beyond the sound.

Marvelle has played extensively since their inception, having hit nearly every venue in the city that’s
not theatre-sized. Their biggest show to date was opening for Firewater at the Triple Rock, a sold-out
show for which they were the only opening band. “There’s a lot of competition in this town. I wouldn’t
think there’d be room for bands that weren’t part of the ‘good ol’ boys’ club,” Winter says, decrying City Pages “Picked To Click” best new artists list, which mostly comprised of musicians who were formerly in other popular local bands. “But surprisingly it’s pretty accepting. Being around for five, six months and being able to play a sold out show at the Triple Rock is pretty exciting.” The band is steadily building a name for itself. They have played shows alongside Magic Castles, A Ghost in the Water, Military Special, Muja Messiah and Toki Wright, moving from one venue to the next as they expose their sound to a wider audience.

“We’ve sort of done it backwards…most bands release an album, then get some press and are able to get some shows,” Winter says. “Luckily I have friends from being a booking agent, and just from the sake of playing shows we’ve gotten other shows. Venues have seen us and invited us back.” Marvelle is currently in the process of recording an album. The band has been occupying Orchestra Hall, “sneaking in guerrilla style” in the hours between 10 p.m. and 6 a.m., laying down tracks for the release. “I don’t think it’s illegal, necessarily. It’s sort of a gray area. We’re very respectful of the space,” says Holm, who works at Orchestra Hall. “I don’t think anyone’s going to have a problem with it. As long as none of us touch the harp.” The album is expected out by spring.

Marvelle brings a startlingly original sound to the Twin Cities rock scene, sparse yet fleshed-out, avant-garde yet unpretentious. The talent of the band members is clear, (“There is not one violinist in town that can hold a candle to this man’s ability, I kid you not,” Winter speaks of Holm, dropping the gauntlet once again), and the songs have a striking quality about them that captures the audience’s attention and refuses to let it go. The energy they maintain through their live performances is impressive, and the live painting brings a new and interesting component to the music. Standing out from the rest is a difficult task in our local music scene, but Marvelle rises to the challenge each and every time.

Marvelle is playing a show at 7th St Entry with Rumble Strips (England) and Birdmonster (San Francisco), 10/23, 18+, doors at 8 p.m., $10

Quacking microphones, awkward pauses and an overall enticing performance marked the release of Now, Now Every Children’s first EP, Not One But Two, last Saturday, February 16. The show was hosted by The Beat Coffeehouse in Uptown Minneapolis.

Band members Cacie Dalager (vocals, guitar), Brad Hale (drums, vocals), Britty Hale (keyboards) and Justin Schweim (bass) combined to form Now, Now Every Children in the summer of 2007. Since being signed in October by Afternoon Records – joining the likes of Mouthful of Bees, One for the Team, Haley Bonar and I, Colossus – the band has been diligently balancing live performances with the recording of two EPs and full-length album scheduled to be released this May.

The audience at the coffeehouse quickly surrounded the playing area as Now, Now opened their five song set. Heads nodded to the rhythm of the guitars while feet found themselves settling to follow the bass beat of Brad Hale’s brilliantly syncopated drum patterns. Now, Now’s self-proclaimed “awkward” changeovers were welcomed by a laid-back uptown audience. Brad Hale supplemented the changeovers with a microphone that “quacked” whenever adjusted. A solution was quickly issued to the problematic mic stand that will go down in history for ingenuity: “I’ll try moving it quickly this time.” The crowd was amused when Cacie praised her guitar tuner and Brad pointed out that she mentions the same thing every show. As characteristic of the quad, time spent between songs was time spent not at self-promotion, but instead supplying more compliments than a color wheel could to the evening’s accompanying performers.

As the music continued the audience could not help themselves from becoming engrossed in vocals reminiscent of Eisley and the captivating melodies played on synthesizers by Britty Hale. Yet the music is truly distinct – catchy xylophone progressions, killer drumming, palm muted guitars, and danceable choruses all crescendo an amazing musical experience.

On an environmental note, the EPs sold at the show had minimal packaging. So minimal in fact, that one EP was purchased lacking a disc – a matter that was quickly remedied with no symptoms of PTSD from the customer. The extended plays were enclosed by a recycled chipboard casing would make any tree hugger content with their purchase.

For further information and listening visit the band’s website at myspace.com/nownoweverychildren. To see a live performance of Now, Now one may join them at the Triple Rock on the West Bank this Wednesday night at 9 p.m.

Yesterday, after a friend talked me into it, I decided to see St. Vincent’s show at Cedar Cultural Center. St. Vincent is the stage name, or as she called it “superhero name,” of Annie Clark. Before her solo debut this past year she was member of The Polyphonic Spree and toured extensively with Sufjan Stevens. Whenever I hear a female indie artist who can shred I’m instantly reminded of Cat Power. The fact that they share awesome names is not the only thing they share, but also their quirky stage presences. In Chan “Cat Power” Marshall’s case it often turned into an awkward live show (until recently), but Annie’s head jerks and squalling guitar freak outs were part of a centered and dynamic performance. She opened the performance with the loopy “Now Now.” Again and again layers of guitar and voice loops were stunningly backed by a band that included the standard bass and drums along with a violinist. The Cedar Cultural Center has to be one of the strangest venues, but it fits the mellower indie rock that Ms. Clark fits into. When she wasn’t switching between her three microphones, Annie offered the audience some delightfully quirky questions. Near the end of the show she asked the audience, “Do you guys ride snowmobiles up here?” I guess that is sort of a good question, but strange none the less. Her strange wit was reminiscent of the weirdest Ryan Adams comments (Eggs anyone?), but she was still grounded within the performance. The delightfully eary “Your Lips Are Red” and “Mary Me” showed the dynamic range of her performance easily segueing from smooth jazz tinged vocals to something decidedly different. She decided not to leave the stage for her encore after the audience unanimously rose up and applauded her strange, but often times a mind blowing performance. She might just be the best guitarist in Indie Rock.

St. Vincent – Your Lips Are Red

The Hip Hop Live show, in First Avenue’s Main room on the 11th, showcased three MCs; Brother Ali, Ghostface Killah, and Rakim. Though from drastically different backgrounds, the three artists share a bond through a common, continuing the fight for the survival of Hip Hop as vital music and a respected art form. It’s an uphill battle these days. Hip Hop over the last 8 years has slowly eroded into lack luster MCs with glossy images and major labeling backing. Fortunately, there are those who still believe. Acts like The Roots, Living Legends, Atmosphere and Del the Funky Homosapien, are carrying the genuine Hip Hop torch, and First Avenue is always the place to catch these fleeting opportunities in the flesh.

Openers, The Rhythm Roots Allstars begun the night with some of their original material. They also served as the backing band throughout the night. They handled each song perfectly, their blaring horns accenting each MCs larger than life persona. By the time opening act Brother Ali took the stage at 10:00pm, there were already bodies spilling back out into the entrance. It was a testament to both the Hip Hop fan base in Minneapolis, and Brother Ali’s growing popularity. He was all smiles when greeted by his enthusiastic crowd. His performance was worth the commotion. He’s never performed so confidently in the past, and you can see he has returned home from his extensive touring a seasoned MC. His newest album, The Undisputed Truth, has gotten him some serious national exposure and allotted him this prestigious opening slot. He was openly gracious for the opportunity. “Rakim is the reason a lot of us started rapping in the first place. He changed Hip Hop. He’s a legend.”

Ghostface Killah mirrored these sentiments. “I wouldn’t be rapping if it wasn’t for this man. Rakim is one of the all time greats.” Despite his humility,, Ghostface was the evening’s main event. He took the stage to thunderous applause after minutes of hype men and suspenseful build. The opening guitar licks of, “The Champ,” announced his arrival to the stage. It’s one of several classic cuts off of his most recent release, “Fishscale.” His presence was palpable. Several Wu-Tang chants were started throughout his set. He performed two Wu stand bys, “Ain’t Nothin’ Ta Fuck Wit” and “Triumph,” and challenged the crowd to rhyme along. He talked through the set: commending Minneapolis as, “The livest crowd yet,” inviting everyone to hold up their weed bags, and telling stories about chickenheads stealing Oreos off the tour bus. “The thing was, they didn’t even give my boys none afterwards. I wrote this song about that shit.” During, “Greedy Bitches,” he invited ladies on stage to grind with his entourage. It was a hilariously ironic situation. He’s lyrically on par with any MC in the game, and the man knows how to party. He had the crowd at his finger tips all night.

Headliner, Rakim, is Hip Hop royalty in the vein of Bob Dylan’s influence on Rock N’ Roll. He didn’t invent it, but he revolutionized the way it was approached. His fearless vocal acrobatics and wordplay opened doors and minds for generations of future MCs. He started his set with “Follow the Leader,” and moved in to “Dead Presidents,” a song familiar to many as the one performed by Snoop Dogg in Old School. He too vocalized his respect for Minneapolis as a noted music scene and supporter Hip Hop.

From the indie kids in their skin tight jeans, to the couples on the railings, to the weed smoking suburban types, to the drunk guy who was obliviously grinding with a transvestite by the bar. It was a show worth the price of admission. Few amongst the diverse group of attendees left unsatisfied.

The Pantages was packed with people of all ages excited to see the band Stars perform. The band threw roses and praises from the stage. The lobby was bustling and the merch table was flooded. “Last time we played in Minneapolis, about 45 people showed up,” Torquil Campbell told the crowd, which promptly erupted into cheers and applause.

Stars is touring for their new album, In Our Bedroom After the War. Opening with “Take Me to the Riot”, the single from their new album, the band carried the energy of that song through the rest of the show. The setlist for the show was composed mainly of songs from In Our Bedroom, broken up nicely with older fan favorites like “Elevator Love Letter”, “One More Night” and “Soft Revolution”.

At one point, the stage lights were brought down, and Torquil Campbell walked slowly onto the stage wearing a jacket covered in round luminous lightbulbs as the rest of the band began to play “The Ghost of Genova Heights”. Stars was joined by guitarist Andrew Whiteman, a contributor to In Our Bedroom After the War, and he enchanted the audience with his impressive ability and beautiful mien. The show closed with a promise to return and a three song encore composed of “The Night Starts Here”, “What I’m Trying to Say” and “Calendar Girl.”

On their new album, In Our Bedroom After the War, Stars has taken their signature sound and let it explode. It begins, properly, with “The Beginning After The End”, a short, subtle instrumental piece that starts with a simple beat, expands, warms, and ends with a short poem. “The Night Starts Here”, the second track, is a typical Stars anthem championing hope, free-spiritedness and the beauty of death by love. It is during the third track, “Take Me To The Riot”, when the listener is showered with colorful confetti, sunshine, dancing, laughter and intimacy, that and the album really takes off. In this song, Stars has reached a new stage in their musical and lyrical journey, one that carries through the rest of the album.

“On “My Favourite Book”, Amy Millan’s Feist-esque vocals and the band’s multi-tier instrumentation create a complex, beautiful song. The fifth track, “Midnight Coward”, changes tempo and mood multiple times before its finish. “The Ghost of Genova Heights” is a combination of classic Stars verses and chorus and a bridge reminiscent of Michael Jackson. “Personal” is a glimpse into a blossoming love through exchange of letters and personal ads, accompanied by a piano duet fronting various instruments. “Barricade” features Torquil Campbell, a piano and an accordion. “Window Bird” is a sweet song featuring Amy Millan’s upper register. “Bitches in Tokyo” and “Life 2: Unhappy Ending” sound similar to Set Yourself On Fire, Stars’ 2004 album. “Today Will Be Better, I Swear!” is long and mostly instrumental, winding down some of the energy produced by the previous songs. The album ends with the title track, “In Our Bedroom After The War”, which features a string arrangement and a vocal duet by Amy Millan and Torquil Campbell. In Our Bedroom After the War is a captivating album that gets better with each listening.

In this day and age, it’s no wonder that a fictional animated metal band can blow away an audience. That’s exactly what Dethklok, the band featured in the show “Metalocalypse” on Cartoon Network’s Adult Swim, did on Wednesday Nov. 7 in the Great Hall at Coffman Union. Despite being billed as the opening act for …And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead, Dethklok not only stole the main time slot but proved to deliver mind-numbing metal as good as any metal act today. Every aspect of the show was torturously, exhilaratingly brutal.

Getting into the concert was ridiculously painful. It turns out that on the official Metalocalypse website there was a ticket section hidden away where people could sign up for tickets to the show. 800 tickets were given out over the Internet, and those who were lucky enough to find the site got a star bracelet for the show, which would let them wander in and out of the venue. However, the Great Hall only has a capacity of 700 at concerts. Needless to say, everyone in the chump line (which is, coincidently enough, where The Wake was) became very angry. There was nothing on any advertisements that said people needed to go to the website in order to get free tickets for this concert, which was billed as a free event. This setback ended well because most of the people who had reserved tickets online did not show up.

The first band to play was…Trail of Dead. As one might suspect from their name, they didn’t look happy during their performance. Although they’ve been around the rock music scene for several years, they played like they were going to kill someone. This is probably due to the fact that although they received top billing on the advertisements for the Adult Swim tour, they were in fact opening for a fictional band. Once 7:30 p.m. rolled around, they couldn’t get off the stage fast enough.

It didn’t matter to the crowd. Most of them had come to see the real version of Dethklok. The band consists of legendary drummer Gene Hoglan, lead guitarist Mike Keneally, bassist Bryan Bellers, and lead singer and guitarist Brendon Small, the show’s creator.

Dethklok opened with the show’s theme song, immediately creating a mosh pit in the front area, despite many signs forbidding moshing. Like many death metal acts, the band refused to be lit on stage, instead preferring sparse lighting. The band took the experience further by providing three Jumbotrons, each playing a music video to whatever song they were playing. They also played what seems like an exclusive episode of the show for the crowd between song intervals, involving the audience by creating a plot that Dethklok was to be assassinated at the show. The audience ate it up, crowding in and banging their heads to a cacophony of pure hate-filled metal.

“Mustakrakish” came next, and hell broke loose among the crowd. Whoever wasn’t moshing in the front was thrashing in the middle, with the back section banging their heads in time. An ever-growing amount of devil horns were thrown into the air. It continued like this for the entire show, even after the Deathklok’s double encoure. Of course, the fan-favorite song of the set was “ThunderHorse,” a three-minute exercise in dizzying guitarist solos that left the front section blown away from moshing.

Even after the closing hit “Fansong,” the crowd was left wanting more. Everyone looked shell-shocked with pleasure after walking out of Coffman. It seemed there was a common sentiment among the crowd:

“I went to a Dethklok concert. And survived.”