A flight attendant's smackdown with the wife of mega-preacher Joel Osteen inspires a whole new set of commandments.
Today Denver, tomorrow the Twin Cities.
A country musician rescues Waylon Jennings' tour bus from the scrap heap.
The provocateur who brought you "Piss Christ" pinches off a new concept.
Bert Jansch
The Black Swan
(Drag City)
Beirut
Gulag Orkestar
(Ba Da Bing)
In the liner notes to Beirut's Gulag Okestar, mastermind Zach Condon mentions that the cover and back photos were found in a library in Leipzig, Germany, torn from a book. "If anybody knows the photographer," he adds. "Please get in touch." Such is the mystery surrounding this debut from the 19-year-old New Mexican (now living in Brooklyn), where youthful travels through Eastern Europe manifest themselves in one of the most intelligent indie-rock debuts of the last 10 years. Accompanied by Jeremy Barnes (Neutral Milk Hotel, A Hawk and a Hacksaw) and Heather Toast (A Hawk and a Hacksaw), Condon created a record out of ukulele, accordion, and strings to make the sonic equivalent of a lazy afternoon spent at some cafe in the Balkans, scribbling in your Moleskine and listening to street musicians. While most attempts to bring ethnic music to the masses involve a watering down of the regional flavor, Condon has transcended that by not even trying to sound American. There are no guitar solos (actually, no guitars period), and the band's Balkan stomp seems inherent, not learned. The only blatantly American thing is Condon's voice, which is akin to Rufus Wainwright at his most melodramatic. While Condon's take on Eastern European traditions may sound mind-blowing to the modern indie fan, the Balkans might have a different opinion. Regardless, it's an aesthetically pleasing addition to your record collection. BRIAN J. BARR
Beirut play with A Hawk and a Hacksaw, at Crocodile Cafe, 2200 Second Ave., 206-441-5611, www.thecrocodile.com. $10. 9 p.m. Tues., Oct. 17.
Miss Violetta Beauregarde
Odi Profanum Vulgus Et Arceo
(Temporary Residence)
Imagine the ranting crack whore on your corner had an art degree and moonlighted as frontwoman for the Locust. That's Miss Violetta Beauregarde, a young Italian lady who delivers on the promise M.I.A. failed to fulfill: Girls make the best sonic terrorists. Her second album, Odi Profanum Vulgus Et Arceo (translation: "I hate the common crowd and I spurn them"), might be called grind-hop or glitch-thrash, but after you take these 16 rusty ninja stars to the forehead, you'll be too busy twitching to death to care. MVB controls an undead army of crippled electronics, layering up frantic drum-machine pulses with overdriven bleep squalls and defibrillating bass. Her main weapon is her voice, an unholy instrument that flips between hyperactive singsong, catfight scream, and full-on grindcore bellow. The whole record frequently runs off into total chaos (like on snare-and-scream "The Man Who Shot at Squirrels"), but it succeeds best with a little structure, such as the catchy dirge "Try to Misunderstand This One," which sounds like a very dark Le Tigre jam. "I Am the Tiananmen Square Guy and You All Are the Fucking Tanks" is both a deadly evil pop anthem and an MVB mission statement. FRANCES READE
The Melvins
A Senile Animal
(Ipecac)