Molly Bergen

You've got to really, really want to see a band if you go to the Gibson Amphitheatre. You can't just drop by casually and check it out. One has to commit themselves mentally, physically, and financially for such a trip. By the time you've shelled out an exorbitant sum for parking, had your senses assaulted from all sides by the glowing hell scape that is Universal Citywalk and are finally sitting in the murky, oppressive gloom of the amphitheater, most of us are grumpy as hell and in desperate need of a stiff drink. Fortunately for everyone at that venue The Silversun Pickups are so good that they managed to erase all of those bad memories after the first couple notes. Even the depressing ambiance of the venue was lifted immediately as front man, Brian Aubert couldn't contain his joy at being home, "Forgive us if it’s a little cheeseball, but we’ve been waiting so long to say these three little words: Hello, Los Angeles!” The crowd roared in welcome, and Aubert asked that the house lights be turned on so he could see his adoring fans. After soaking up some of the hometown love, the triumphant Pickups set about the task of blowing everyone's mind (and eardrums).

Arriving on a tidal wave of hype from their native England, The Big Pink filled the El Rey with expectant fans and critics all ready to see if their live show was as good as their debut album A Brief History of Love which was released in September. And was it? Well, I guess the best answer to that question is sometimes.

In 2001 The Appleseed Cast found themselves in a sticky situation in Germany. Their booking agent had told some promoters at a record store that the band would do an acoustic set. Lead singer, Chris Crisci explains, "Prior even going over to Europe we had had this discussion with our agent. He wanted us to do an acoustic show. We said no. He asked again. We said no. So we get to this record store in Germany, and they were like "So you're playing this acoustic thing?" I was so pissed. How much more clear could we be? But it turns out that people really liked what we were playing." Crisci decided to try out some of the new material he had been writing on the side, and it went really well. So well, he decided to form his own folk side project, Old Canes.

Some of us were worried that Julian Casablancas had pulled a Dave Chappelle and disappeared from rock 'n' roll forever. The lead singer of The Strokes, a band who defined underground New York cool for half a decade, vanished from the spotlight after the band's third album. Although never officially disbanded, other Strokes band members began releasing their own solo projects and most of us thought it was all over. (For the record: apparently it's not. Apparently the Strokes are still just on hiatus.) Now out of nowhere, after three years of mysterious absence, a newly sober Julian Casablancas has emerged in LA of all places with a brand new solo record, Phrazes for the Young. And get this, it's upbeat.

Despite the fact that their economy was pulverized to bits last year, from a musical standpoint Iceland is coming out on top. In the originality category they're especially strong. It doesn't matter whether you're into Sigur Rós, Múm or Björk you have to admit, they sound like nothing else. Now you can add another name to that list. Sin Fang Bous the new solo project of Sindri Mar Sigfusson, who took some time off from his band Seabear, to write a gorgeous experimental pop album Clangour. Never heard of him? Fair enough, his first show in LA is tonight at the El Rey Theatre, but if you like Animal Collective and Panda Bear, you might want to take a listen. We caught up with Sindri before his show and asked him a few questions.

It's hardly surprising that KCRW knows how to throw a party. I mean they are the home of Morning Becomes Eclectic one of the best music shows on air. And I don't mean in Los Angeles. I mean in the country. The radio station had rented out the gorgeous Park Plaza Hotel in MacArthur Park and threw a masked ball Louis XIV would have been proud of. KCRW's famed DJs spun tunes in every room as costumed guests milled around in varying states of inebriation. In the parking lot, food trucks waited patiently for the midnight hour to strike, a time when the guests would give in to their secret desire for tacos and grilled cheese.

For those of you who don't know, White Rabbits isn't just a rock band from New York City. It's a band of six drummers from New York City. Watching their live show is like having each note pounded into your chest with a sledgehammer... in a good way. At any given time, three or more members are pummeling their instruments with an energy that is both mesmerizing and terrifying. It's impossible to attend a show without finding yourself clapping along, pounding on your chest, jumping up and down, and desperately restraining yourself from drumming on your neighbor's back. We caught up with lead singer, Stephen Patterson from the road.

“I met and fell in love with a girl in Montreal while on tour with Irving, and just before signing with Dangerbird,” Church recalls. “And then, while touring behind the Sea Wolf record, I spent most of my time off in Montreal with her. Apart from "Wicked Blood" and "O Maria!," which I wrote in Los Angeles, everything on White Water was written in Montreal, holed up in our little apartment, a block away from the river. That was all of last fall, winter and spring, so I was very much influenced by that experience, and a lot of the record is set there in my immediate surroundings, along with remembrances of being home on the West Coast.”

Descriptions of Bedrock Rehearsal Studios sound like fevered pipe dreams of an aspiring musician. The kind you've probably had with your buddies while smoking on the back porch of some house party or in the backseat of a car on the way to a show. Conversations that go something along the lines of, "Dude, when I get enough money. I'm going to have my own recording studio. And there will be rehearsal studios with different themes. And a repair shop for when we break shit...

Monsters of Folk is one of the most honest super groups I've ever seen. What I mean is this: most super groups are so in love with their new project that they pretend that it is their only musical work to date and that the audience is solely there to hear that album. They get so wrapped up in this feeling that they refuse to play the hits that everyone came there to see. I'm pleased to report that Monsters of Folk, a group made up of Conor Oberst, Jim James, M. Ward, and Mike Mogis, did no such thing. They were fully aware that most of the people who packed the sold out Greek Theater were mildly curious about Monsters of Folk's debut but were mostly there to see Bright Eyes, My Morning Jacket, and M. Ward.