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The juxtaposition of the flu and Mardi Gras, — a truly lethal cocktail — kept me out of the clubs for the most part, but the two times I did venture out, they were both great eclectic nights, and Slobot was the star. The night of Spanish Town Mardi Gras, I dragged my battered carcass down to the Red Star, where our heroes opened for local crossroads-lurkers Bones. Now if you haven’t seen Slobot, get to a show. The trio — Sherie D. Slobot (keyboards and vocals), Kevin Hurstell (guitar) and Glenn Fields (drums) — is perhaps the most effervescent band on the scene. Sherie’s combination of pep-squad enthusiasm and absurdist recklessness is completely infectious. She bounces around and does the robot from behind the keyboards. Their Myspace site proclaims them to be Captain Beefheart meets Beat Happening, which is pretty apt. Imagine Thing One and Thing Two have quit their day job and started a band.

Bones was in rare form that night as well. The band may not have exactly been prolific in the songwriting department over its life, but Mike Miller and Scott Campbell know how to manipulate the mood of their material. Bones set its phasers on groove that night, setting the wall of ladies in the front into a fit of butt-shaking swivel. It should be on Earth as its is in Heaven.

Fast forward to Wednesday, and one of the bills I’ve looked forward too all year happened at the Spanish Moon. Ariel Pink and Belong. Belong is a drone-oriented outfit, making diligent use of laptops, guitars and effects, creating a pulsar of sound that accompanied their video collage of 60’s psychadelia, lonely landscapes and Rorschach hypnotics. Belong generate a meaty variant on the static-drone standard, solar flares of sound arcing and redoubling. It looked to be difficult listening at first, but the entire place was in a rapt spell during a non-stop 40-minute set.

Ariel Pink is a whole different brand of madness. Hailing from some anonymous bedroom in suburban California, Pink, at some point in his hazy adolescence, got a hold of a Casio, a cheap mic and a four-track, and took to rebroadcasting the refracted 70’s. A radio blaring in his brain. He’s like a post-modern Hasil Adkins in that regard, pushing the one-man-band thing to stunning extremes. His peculiar brand of nuclear meltdown AOR is a line in the sand. Either this is a self-indulgent mess emanating from terminal ADD, or it is peculiar outsider genius, a unique vision trying to rectify the world with how he perceives it. I’m in the latter camp. I think his three albums that document samplings of his work are some of the loneliest, yet ebullient indie pop around. Pink is certainly not trying to be cool. He would set his drum machine a-sputterin’, bang out more chord changes than Todd Rundgren (thanks for that one, Lee) and pace the stage like the caged animal he is. If your radio is tuned to his frequency, its aching heart-wrenching, yet pretty goofy stuff. If not, it's just static.

On this tour, Pink put out a call to local bands at each of his whistle stops to be the backing band for his second set, and Slobot (sans drummer) performed as the perfect wrapper for his novelty gum. Sherie helmed the keyboards; later using a makeshift kids’ drum-kit while Kevin’s pop guitar kept this ship of fools afloat. During a particularly well done “Hardcore Pops are Fun” off his latest reissue House Arrest (Paw Tracks), the mad scientist cracked a huge grin as his pop-song-gone-delightfully-awry took shape.

It was a weird night to be sure, but I like a weird night. Even when it appeared the True Hollywood Story of Pee Wee’s Playhouse was being staged uncomfortably before my eyes, even when it seemed I was trapped in Howard Jones’ post-karaoke nightmare, it was refreshing, recharging. It either made you run back to your car to the warm arms of your CD collection or it raised your antennae an extra inch, opening you up to Sweet Reckless Possibility. Either way, it’s a good thing.

YOUR MARCHING ORDERS FOR THE COMING WEEK

Thursday, March 2: Drew Emmitt from Leftover Salmon appears at SoGo with the Back 40.

Friday March 3: Austin’s sugar sweet The Casting Couch awaits you at The Red Star, and Swashbuckler, Justinbailey and We the Living kick out the jams at the Spanish Moon. Here is your chance to rectify the fact that your car may be the only one in a 10-mile radius that doesn’t have a Justin Bailey sticker on it. Righteous Buddha, featuring 225’s Mr. February Dave Hinson on bass, gets funky at the North Gate Tavern

And… if the night isn’t brimming enough with opportunity for you – there is a Breakdancing competition and DJ battle at SoGo, should you be in need of getting “served.”

Saturday, March 4: Jackson’s sythn/indie mood combo Scarlet Speedster appears at the North gate Tavern

Sunday March 5: Symphony and ribs, the two great tastes that taste great together get dished up at the Baton Rouge Symphony’s annual Barbeque of Seville at 4:30 p.m. and 6:00 p.m. at the Manship Theatre at the Shaw Center. It’s a casual event, so no danger of wiping sauce on your tuxedo.

Monday March 6: Bong-tastic Cali group Slightly Stoopid fail to break the curve at The Varsity

Tuesday, March 7: er, hello?? The Project Runway finale starts tonight! It's gonna be fierce! All I’m sayin, the reality TV formula is pointing to Daniel V. to walk away as God of Style, but my money is still on Santino. And if he loses, he will feast on their blood. Not that I’ve been watching or anything….it's just what I, uh, heard.

Wednesday, March 8: Shapes and Sizes sets the kaleidoscope in motion at the Spanish Moon, and Trio : George Porter Jr., Mike Dillon and Johnny Vidacovich send your funky butt back to school at SoGo