OK, so I'm pretty damn sure that Larry and his Flask are opening some East Coast shows for Dropkick Murphys.
How do I know this? Here's the story:
Central Oregon's own acoustic Americana-meets-punk band is pretty much always on tour – the exception being their recent stay in town where they've been playing a string of local shows, including a Wednesday night residency down at Mountain's Edge.
So it wasn't a surprise to see that their MySpace page now features a long list of shows as far off as Virginia, keeping the boys on the road well into mid-March. But then I started noticing the venues they were playing: House of Blues (Atlantic City, Dallas and Orlando), Austin's famed Stubb's and a few other high-profile names. These are big rooms – larger than the clubs, bars and living rooms LAHF has made a career out of playing for the past several years.
Mike Bookey
Ska Ain't Dead: Well, that's at least what Necktie Killer is telling us
There is no ska scene in Bend. In fact, there's probably not a ska scene in most U.
Teaching the Punks to Dance: The Redwood Plan, with a lively attorney at the helm, bring dance-punk down from Seattle
Lesli Wood, her short, asymmetrical hairstyle streaked with fire engine red, is rarely still on stage. She claps, she jumps and, now, with her new band, The Redwood Plan, she dances.
After a decade spent at the helm of Seattle punk act Ms. Led, Wood is now wrapping up her first year with The Redwood Plan, the dance-rock quartet she formed with several other mainstays of the Seattle's rock scene. Her crowds have traded mosh pits for hip-shaking, but the Lesli Wood that earned a reputation as the political rabble-rousing lead singer of Ms. Led still rocks.
She still rocks, that is, when she's on tour, like she'll be this week when she comes to Bend's Players Bar and Grill on Friday, but during most days, Wood, like so many of us, is behind a desk. You see, though her mostly black clothes and aforementioned distinct haircut might not suggest it, Wood is an attorney and has been for the past five years.
Past the Coolers, Up the Stairs: Tew Boots Gallery takes art to the second level
Through the Bond Street Market's door, past the buzzing coolers and the bottles of beer and soda they dutifully keep cool, there's a hairpin turn that leads up a staircase lined on one side by a row of ascending paintings, some featuring the increasingly recognizable iconography of emerging Bend artist Alex Reisfar. At the top of the stairs on most days, or at least afternoons and evenings, you'll find Annie Shininger and her Tew Boots Gallery.
On an inversion-dampened afternoon, Shininger is in her second-level gallery looking over the current works on display through her distinctively vintage cat-eyed glasses. My Morning Jacket's “One Big Holiday” emanates from speakers on Shininger's desk, bouncing off the art-covered walls of the cozy albeit small space, as she takes a second to reflect on the current state of Bend's art scene.
Hip-Hop in Motion: The busy life and second chances of Luck-One
“I feel like I've come a long way. Not just as a musician, but as a person,” says Hanif Collins, who goes by the name Luck-One when he's dishing out his increasingly buzzed about brand of hip-hop in Portland clubs.
It's a Monday morning and Collins is getting ready to head to his day job as a marketer for a vinyl window company. But the job is just a fragment of Collins' intentionally busy schedule that also sees him writing and recording music, booking shows, running his own entertainment company, working with a non-profit organization as well keeping up with his voracious reading habit.
The Best Band That Never Was: Wildwood Ave.'s first show was also their last, but it was a good one
“You have to play a show.”
“Why?”
“You just have to play a show. What's the point of having a band if you're not going to play a show?”
“Where would we play?”
“I dunno, but you have to play a show.”
This back-and-forth replayed itself on a loop for a good hour in my kitchen. It was long after 1 a.m., making it officially my birthday, which gave me license, it seemed, to blur the boundary between friend and music writer. I'd already failed in an attempt to identify Olympia, Rainier and Pabst in a blind taste test earlier in the night, so I had nothing else to lose.
Glasses Up. Curtain Up. Why performing plays in pubs might be just what Bend's theater scene needs
This may not be an absolute truth, but the lines of Bobby Gould in Hell very well may be funnier when read by a group of beer-sipping amateur actors lounging on a couch on the bottom floor of an Awbrey Butte home than in a high-end, big city playhouse.
The David Mamet one-act play is being read by members of Volcanic Theatre, all of whom project their voices when reading from the comedic script despite the fact that the only audience in the room is a turned-off television set, some exercise equipment and a rabbit that doesn't seem all that keen on showing its face outside of its cage. The play, or at least the portion the group rehearsing on this night, is funny – sometimes crass but consistently smart – and the players and their director think that Bend will be lapping it up when they take it not to the local playhouses, but into our town's pubs and bars.
Sing it Yourself: With a recent comeback, Karaoke is thriving like it's 1995
Four women huddle around a small flat-screen monitor, sharing two microphones as they gleefully fumble their way through a Britney Spears song. One of these women has just been crowned Miss Oregon USA a few weeks earlier but that doesn't stop her from smilingly belting out the pop tune.
Every seat in the already cramped bar is occupied, with several others standing on any vacant piece of floor they can find, many still wearing the hats and coats that had shielded from the falling snow and temperatures outside. And not one of these people seems to mind that this Britney Spears song, or almost every other song to be performed before last call, is mostly out of tune.
The Adverse Weather Conditions Bowl
It's pre-bowl season now in the college sports world, the period when your Saturdays are spent clicking aimlessly between non-conference college basketball matchups and TNT's weekly screening of Independence Day. The only other thing of note occupying your time is the ongoing assail of the BCS system. But the truth is you're wasting your time. There will never be a playoff system, let's accept that and instead use the other list of bowls strictly for comedic value.
Here are some bowls I propose the NCAA or whatever group of pharmaceutical companies, financial institutions and tortilla chip makers implement next season:
On Their Own Island: The Dirty Words might head to indie-rock-friendly Portland but first they're making an epic music video
Oh, the music video. The revered opportunity for rock stars to be actors and actors to hang with rock stars. It's a chance for a band to get the faces behind their music out to the people and for fans to see a different side of their act.
Or, perhaps it was those things before shows like Jersey Shore and similar nonsense took over MTV. But the music video still exists and local band The Dirty Words, arguably our only vetted non-high-school indie rock act in Bend, is making one. But they're not really going to be in it.
The band has put a call out across the web for submissions from fans and anyone else who wants to be in a music video, asking them to record themselves “performing” the band's song “Damn Jacket.” They are not asking for high production value, actually they don't want that at all. Rather, the band is asking for distinctively DIY videos from webcams, cell phones and built-in laptops.

