In 2008, independent rock returned to the underground, where it belongs. Given the grand catastrophe that is today's record industry, most major-label executives don't have the time or energy to convince music fans they might like something a little out of the ordinary. They're too busy recycling variations on what were once sure things while desperately searching for career exit strategies that don't involve tall buildings, open windows and running leaps. As a result, fringier artists have had
As the buildings turned Mass Street into a piercing cold wind tunnel, a crowd of Lawrencians took refuge inside the Jackpot Music Hall. Once inside, in the dim red bar light and the sweltering heat, that same crowd found themselves wishing they'd left their coats in the car. Alela Diane came on first, backed by a four-piece band: hairy dude on bass, cute girl singing harmonies, red-headed Greg Oden look-alike on drums, and Alela's dad wailing on mandolin and lead guitar.
Alela Diane possesse
BY ELKE MERMIS
Conor Oberst has endured a slew of slightly painful Bob Dylan comparisons since he penned his very first sprawling story-song in his Midwestern hometown in the late '90s. Yeah, he's got a weird voice; yeah, he's a masterful lyricist; yeah, he's from a smallish town in the middle of the country, hates fame, whatever, we get it. But the truth in these comparisons never struck me with the sheer force that they did on Sunday night, when Conor Oberst unveiled his latest incarnation in
I had a lot of fun this weekend because of Bill Sundahl. The tireless force behind Spice of Life Productions held his fifth annual Crossroads Music Fest this past Saturday, with pre-parties the night before, and it was a gas. Not just any gas, though. A noble gas. Like xenon.
Forester MichaelClick on the Pornhuskers' backup dancer for more pics.
On Saturday, more than two dozen local acts performed at the Brick, the Czar Bar, the alley at Mercy Seat and the main stage and Skylight Room at Cros
