Owl Green--The Launchpad doesn't really have a roof, so in an attempt to rid itself of the pigeons that routinely bomb the upstairs chamber with their mess, a fake owl was placed near the point of entry in hopes that it would scare the birds away. Whether or not it worked, the fake owl became an esteemed member of the Launchpad ménage, going on to take part in special Launchpad performances, and overseeing the bar's beer taps. Owl Green is that fake bird's name, and now a new establishment in town is its namesake. Word has it that longtime Launchpad barkeep Noelan Ramirez has opened Owl Green's Music, a downtown music store catering to folks in need of last-minute supplies, designed for convenience, not competition. In addition to sundries like cables, picks and drumsticks, he will also carry more substantial equipment, such as keytars, bongo drums and fiddle sticks. Just kidding: He'll actually have major brands as well as consignment guitars, amps, drums and stuff. And since Noelan is a drummer, he's carrying a special line of percussion instruments, including tambourines affixed with disco lights (that's right, dream weaver). All of this will fit into a small space in the shop strip at 121 Seventh Street NW between Central and Copper, which is close enough to the Launchpad for OG to fly back and forth between the two. Temporarily, the hours are 11 a.m. to 7 p.m. Monday through Saturday, but the store will soon be open until 9 p.m. Call 243-1889 for more information.
Talib Kweli isn’t landing at the Sunshine Theater until next Thursday, Nov. 30, but you’ll need this extra time to scrape together the $20 to get in. All-ages, with Buckshot (Black Moon and Boot Camp Clik) opening. (LM)
Andrew Chaikin wanted to be a drummer. But he didn't have a kit, so the rhythm just started using his mouth. That's how San Francisco’s beatbox master known as Kid Beyond describes his high school days, back when his stage time was spent with the glee club or in musical theater. Chaikin's voice is hoarse as he travels to New Orleans to play the House of Blues, the ninth performance on his 28-city tour with Imogen Heap. The nonstop shows are taking their toll. "I never in a million years ... if you said 'What are you going to be when you grow up?' professional beatboxer would not have crossed my mind.'"
There's nothing better than being a part of something that's happening right now. My superficial preoccupation with discovering the newest, secret-est band is an exercise in self indulgence I’m happy to entertain, especially when it leads me to something as exceptionally unique as Brooklyn’s Asobi Seksu.
PJ Harvey begs the question: How can one tiny woman be so gorgeous, talented and prolific? The release of these live recordings from the late John Peel's BBC program should only further confound PJ’s audiences. The album is comprised of five sessions spanning the aforementioned years, where Polly Jean plays an eclectic mix of originals (like the astounding and ultra-feminine acoustic “Oh My Lover”) and covers such as Willie Dixon's “Wang Dang Doodle,” which she and the band corrupt into what could be death's theme song. Henceforth: All hail PJ Harvey.