Reports from the scene

Locals Only

The scene has lost another musician to the Bay Area. Last week, we reported that both Jimmy LaValle (The Album Leaf) and Emily Neveu (Calico Horse) are headed north, and now David Peña, of electro trio The Illuminauts, has confirmed that he’ll be moving to Berkeley in the next few weeks. Though fellow Illuminaut Santino “Sonny” Romeri describes Peña as a crucial member of the group, he says they will try to make it without him. “It’s still up in the air,” Romeri says. “David’s here for another 10 days or so, and we’ll finish recording our 7-inch. After that, we’ll probably take a month off and regroup. We’ve got a couple people we’ve been talking to, but right now we’re just trying to figure things out. I definitely plan to keep it going and take it as far as we can.”

The members of Scarlet Symphony appear in the new music video for Modest Mouse’s “Satellite Skin.” The surreal Kevin Willis-directed video shows a Japanese-inspired procession of a dozen or so people on their way to feed what appear to be birdhouse monsters, and Symphony frontman Gary Hankins says the band is in the procession. “It was filmed in Angeles National Forest,” Hankins says. “A friend of ours was working on the vid, and it turns out they were looking for four tall men for the shoot. Next thing you know, we’re reenacting an old Japanese film in the middle of nowhere.”

Pop-rockers Get Back Loretta follow their June 20 EP-release at SOMA with another at The Casbah on Friday, June 26. Crash Encore and Writer will also perform, and the EP is complimentary with the $10 cover.

—Seth Combs

View from a Stool

Among the many conversations overheard at Dinosaur Jr.’s sold-out show at The Casbah on Sunday afternoon, two stand out in particular. The first: Middle-aged indie rocker brags about seeing a Nirvana in-store at Off the Record in 1991 “before they got big.” The second: Different middle-aged indie rocker discusses how Dinosaur Jr. aren’t as heavy as reputed, eventually yelling, “I thought you’d be louder!” in between songs.

To use a Kurt Cobain quote, there’s always been an “I’ve seen it all, I was here first” quality to the ’90s-era indie-rock scene, which hasn’t disappeared over time. The only things that have changed since their original dissolution are the color of guitarist J Mascis’ hair (it’s white) and size of the fans’ waistlines (they’re larger). And since nobody there seemed to give a shit about getting a little older, all was still right in the Dinosaur Jr. universe.

Mascis and bassist Lou Barlow have had a notoriously tumultuous relationship, and as unlikely as their 2005 re-formation was, the tension’s had a positive effect on their creative energy. The beginning of the set was heavy on tracks from 2007’s Beyond and this year’s Farm, and Mascis and Barlow don’t really interact, giving the impression that the stage is some sort of psychic battlefield. True to character, Mascis looked apathetic as ever while ripping through the wah-wah riffs on “Over It,” while the typically self-loathing Barlow claimed, “We’re gonna play three of my songs. They’re all bad, but here’s the worst one,” before launching into “Imagination Blind.”

While it’s hard not to wonder if Barlow resents playing songs from the ’90s albums (he was booted from the band in 1989), he and drummer Murph are energetic enough to counter Mascis’ slacker persona. We know what to expect from the trio by now, including phenomenal renditions of “Freak Scene” and “In a Jar,” but there’s great comfort in knowing that Dinosaur Jr. have put aside their differences for our enjoyment. Until their next implosion, at least.

—Todd Kroviak

Night Moves

Tape Deck Mountain Remixes @ Whistle Stop: When local indie-rockers Tape Deck Mountain remix their music with help from R&B slow-jammers Jamuel Saxon, the result is downright sexy. We’ve heard a couple of the tracks, and it’s serious boot-knocking music. Bring a date. Friday, June 26.

Fedde le Grande @ On Broadway: It’s not often that San Diego lands respected house DJs, much less international ones, but le Grande is almost as big as they come over in Europe, scoring No. 1 hits and packing arenas. Time to step up your oonce-oonce game. Saturday, June 27.

Daedelus @ Kava Lounge: Another major score for San Diego, this is a one-man electronic show that consists of no DJing and very little laptop work. Rather, he works with obscure instruments to create a massive wall of sound. He’s been blowing up lately, having worked with the likes of MF Doom and Busdriver, so get there early while there’s still room left on the dance floor. Saturday, June 27.

Club Up and Up @ Belly Up: It’s kinda sad, but the closest thing you’ll get to club action in North County is some drunk girl dancing on top of the bar at the Barf N’ Babble (oops, we mean the Surf N’ Saddle). Perhaps smelling the after-racetrack crowds coming, the Belly Up is launching this new night on the last Tuesday of the month, featuring fun local bands and DJs. This week, The Burning of Rome and QQC, along with DJs Lord Nelson and James Barack. Tuesday, June 30.

—Seth Combs

The Enrique Experience

In a frantic pee emergency, I recently ventured into a drinking establishment, where a grizzly bar patron was propping up an empty Clorox bottle against the men’s room door as a way of bypassing the 25-cent fee in the future.
“I ain’t paying no quarter to take a dump again. All yours,” he said, drying his hands on his acid-washed denim shorts. This was my introduction to the gem that is Tobacco Rhoda’s (2591 University Ave.). The crème de la crème of North Park dives—if your crème were accidentally left out in the sun, jizzed on by a band of homeless men and then devoured by Hep C-resistant raccoons.

Outside on a side wall, a 3-D painted likeness of a woman welcomes you, but contrary to popular belief, it isn’t Rhoda, but, rather, a barista named Nina from the now closed Blissful Bean Café, who was local muralist Rik Erickson’s muse. Inside, the décor can best be described as halfway-house romper-room, with its wall of darts-championship plaques and a claw machine with out-of-season plush toys, like a Ziggy doll wearing a Valentine’s Day T-shirt and a toy hammer with a leopard-print handle that reads “Y2K.” Two ceiling fans, which are hung so low that they can probably decapitate unsuspecting patrons taller than 5-foot-10, flank the bar area, and behind it is one of those mini cardboard stands from the Leukemia and Lymphoma Foundation with cut-out quarter receptacles to help a little girl named Francheska.

“We had to hide it, because people take money for the crapper,” said Amy, my exotic barmaid.

“You making that shot would be like The Miracle on 38th Street. It only happens once a year,” Will, a regular, shouted (overshooting the movie reference by four blocks) at his friend, who was playing pool with intense conviction.

“The beauty of this place is that it’s all inclusive, you know?” Will pointed out as he wiped his beer mustache—which, by the way, he had when he first arrived that day. His billiards buddy then came over and balanced the cue ball on the mouth of Will’s Budweiser bottle. Proving that he subscribes to the Carrie Prejean school of inclusion, he then angrily fired back: “If you wanna play with balls, go down the street with the queers in Hillcrest.”

—Enrique Limón