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RECENT SIGHTINGS

Last Saturday night was the big indie rock show, headlined by Minneapolis big thing the Hold Steady at the Spanish Moon.

The first band on the bill was Minnesota's The Plastic Constellation, an amiable group with a punchy upbeat punk-pop. But I have to say the eerie syncopation of the two guitarists two strapping field hands who looked related was kinda weirding me out.

Still, musically, they were tight, fun, energetic, good clean fun. Which was welcome given the rest of the straight-no-chaser catharsis that rounded out the bill.

Swearing @ Motorists followed. The band was fronted by the magnetically outdated looking Dave Doughman, who sported frizzy hair, a big mustache and tight jeans. Lee Barbier compared him to Doug Henning; I said he was Gallagher with a little John Oates mixed in.

Doughman tore through one of the best sets of bare-bones rock poetry Ive seen in ages. His high power arena rock moves were honest and dead on, providing the yin for the yang of his hard-look-in-the-mirror lyrics. Drummer Don Thrasher (formerly of another Ohio drunken circus Guided By Voices) proved the perfect foil to Doughmans impending train wreck performance, reeling it in when necessary, letting out some lead when it started getting good.

Go see these guys: I think they lurk around close to the beating heart of rock, like Richard Hell and Jeffery Lee Pierce.

And the night was just beginning!

Current FTW Federation bantamweight champs The Hold Steady hit the stage like a sucker punch. Singer/songwriter/peoples poet Craig Finn, a perfect mix of Springsteen insight, Johnny Rotten sneer and Elvis Costello passion (Im referencing the young versions of all three of those icons, just in case you were wondering. None of them aged particularly well in my book) sweated and spat out his embroiled tales of drug deals gone bad and lives that went worse. And the Style award goes to keyboardist Franz Nicolay, who was in black three-piece suit with vest and a red tie, impeccably curled mustache, sipping red wine and a Red Bull all night (which seems the perfect hit-man drink combo) in between reminding us the important place keyboards hold in rock music. Finn is just one of those mind-bogglingly great frontmen, pouring his heart out and making you pick through the entrails, while simultaneously seeming to squirm at your stare.

I can imagine this guy is pretty intense if you know him in real life, like a well-meaning drunken conversation about bands will end with him holding you in a headlock at 3 a.m. until you agree that Motorhead is the greatest band on earth (and is that really that much of a concession to make?). But on stage, he practically gives off sparks.

The only hiccup was the abrupt end at 1:30 p.m. with no encore. The crowd was livelier than most, jumping and fists pumping, but we, as a scene, have some work to do.

We need to rock our end of the stage just as hard as the bands do if we want to keep them coming here. Still, we all felt a little cheated when the drummer came back to disassemble his kit and motioned for us to quit chanting.

Monday night, which Im discovering is when the dark horses in this town put on a freaking secret rodeo, started off with my first sojourn to the resplendent Teddy's Juke Joint in Zachary, a mile or so past the prison on Scenic Highway, for Teddy's birthday party jam. Down the end of a gravel road off the highway, all you see is some neon and leftover Christmas lights and a vague sound of a guitar, all competing with the cold wind and the hum of power lines. But when you enter, be prepared to have every one of your senses plundered. The place is just beautiful. It's like if Jerry Bruckheimer said, "I need a juke joint for my next picture, here is 500K to make it happen."

Flashing strings of lights everywhere, everyone dressed to the hilt (Lil Ray Neal set the bar high with his simmering gold and rhinestone jacket), plates of turkey necks and beans being passed around, and a crack band of great local blues cats setting the woods on fire. Hoodoo Jimmy manning the keyboards, Greg Stars (of the Neighborhood Stars out in New Roads) on sax, Big Solomon on bass (who also plays a mean piano at the Piccadilly on Government Street when blues legend Henry Gray isnt there) and, rotating on guitar, Andy Squint, Lil Ray Neal and Sundanze.

Lil Ray Neal is a guitar treasure. A guy I met there told me Neal turned down a gig touring with BB King's band because he wanted to stay close to home after all the tragedy the Neal family has seen in the last couple years.

Neal tore through a killer rendition of some Bobby Blue Bland song and remarked, "People always tell me when I play that, I sound just like the guy on the record. Man, thats because I AM the guy on that record. I was younger and smaller then, but that was me."

Here's hoping that Neal makes it out even more often, because his guitar playing will leave you slack jawed.

To come down off that high of beautiful, fat juicy music and turkey necks, I dragged into the Red Star at 11 p.m. to catch San Diegos Ilya , fronted by the beguiling Blanca Rojas, who might just have spent a little too much time looking at the mirror, singing along with Bjork records, but she has the pipes and the stage presence to pull it off.

The band, rooted by Hank Morton's handling of both keyboards and guitar, made a slow burning orbital pulse around Rojas, lost in a world of her own soaring voice and robot dance moves. What separated this wheat from the chaff was the tight interplay of the group in creating that indie space rock torch sound.

Most groups think it's enough to all get up there and let their chiming effects cascade with each other, but Liquidrone guitarist Casey McAllister remarked, Whats cool about them is that they listen. I dont think a lot of indie rock bands listen to what they are playing.

Most groups think its enough to all get up there and let their chiming effects cascade with each other, but Liquidrone guitarist Casey McAllister remarked, "Whats cool about them is that they listen. I dont think a lot of indie rock bands listen to what they are playing."

I'll admit I approached it with skepticism: pretty girl with slow chiming heavy sound, and hard to take stage coyness like I never thought I would write a love song, but C'mon, they are all love songs. I think just about every song is a love song in some regard.

But they won me over in the end, with their pronounced and focused sense of atmosphere.

MUST SEE

Thurs Feb 16: Lets get our week rolling with one out of left field. Former Janes Addiction front man and Jim Morrison of our generation is doing a DJ set (He's been the DJ of choice for fashion icon Marc Jacobs for years) at the Varsity Theatre under his DJ name Peretz. Jane says she will leave Sergio for good this time if you dont make it out for this.

Doors at 8 p.m. Tickets are $15 in advance; $20 at the door.

Legendary racket rockers Skeleton key will be making a right mess of things at the North Gate Tavern if the swooning masses are too much for you to bear.

Friday Feb 17: Set phasers to stun, people, the weekend is rife with synthesizers! Lafayette electro rocker dadaists Wizards of Boat (ebs.com/boatland) bring their funky mess to the Red Star.

Sat Feb 18: Meat Beat Manifesto is shocked to life with underground hip-hip heavyweight Dalek and Reception is Suspected is in tow at the Spanish Moon.

Mon Feb 20: Come Meet local bands Mexico Mexico and Terror of The Sea at the Spanish Moon.

Tues Feb 21: Take in a night at what is deemed the Worlds Greatest Blues Jam, if you ask the folks from Phil Bradys

Wed Feb 22: More indie hip hop from rising stars POS of Doom Tree, Mac Lethal, Sims, & Brenton & The Brentones at the Spanish Moon.