all photos by Rebecca Smeyne

The boys are back in town

JEFF the Brotherhood
Screaming Females
Juiceboxxx
Thursday, March 31
Santos Party House

Last night at Santos, Nashville's JEFF the Brotherhood reunited with frequent New York (via New Jersey) bill-mates Screaming Females. In April 2009, the two bands put out a split seven-inch together and started to gain attention (and not just from Ted Leo's endless stumping). Since then, both have steadily spread the gospel of their live shows, JEFF especially--according to their agent's website, the band "clocked in over 230 shows in the past year"--and are about to spend a month on the road with the Greenhornes (a/k/a two-thirds of the Raconteurs). JEFF is also playing Death by Audio in Brooklyn this Saturday, with Heavy Cream, X-Ray Eyeballs and yet another new band with the word "beach" in its name.

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The year in music, circa 2010, started at the Cake Shop, with a shred-down to the New Year courtesy of Siren Festival MVP-to-be Marissa Paternoster and her band Screaming Females. After a tour through the NYE fetes of the Lower East Side and Williamsburg, that night ended amidst a marathon show at Bushwick's Shea Stadium, right around the time the Blastoids' drummer poured paint on his kit and started splattering away.

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Alex White, letting you know what her name is. All photos by Rebecca Smeyne.

White Mystery, a duo compromised of Chicago garage insurgent Alex White and her younger brother (no White Stripes) came to town last night, paying forward the "Female Guitar Players Are the New Black" 2010 zeitgeist and generally slaying at Impose's Test Patterns party at Don Pedro's. Also in the building? Vivian Girls's Cassie Ramone, who recently announced she's maybe sorta working on a solo record, and Philly psych duo Reading Rainbow, who have been in NYC a lot lately. Photographer Rebecca Smeyne was there, of course; her shots are below. Nice shoes, Alex.

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Just another relaxing Tuesday evening in the park. Pics by Rebecca Smeyne, way more below.

DâM-FunK
Fort Greene Park
Tuesday, August 10

Can't believe it's taken me this long to experience an unironic keytar solo. "You know we came to kill this motherfucker for you today!" DâM-FunK announces, and after wailing on that thing for 90 seconds or so you are inclined to believe him. Meanwhile, a concerned-looking woman hurriedly shuffles three children out of the front row, which means they aren't around an hour or so later when our star attraction jumps into the crowd and gives us a chance to lean into the mic and scream, "It's my life, I do what I want!" Too bad.

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Maluca cools things down. All photos by Rebecca Smeyne.

Diplo's Mad Decent label has been taking its act on the road lately, throwing block parties in Philadelphia, New York, Los Angeles, and Chicago. For Saturday's Seaport stop, the label teamed with local Pool Party auteurs Jelly NYC, bringing a slew of Mad Decent artists and horde of crowdsurfing, barrier-jumping fans to Pier 17 in lower Manhattan. Security was on edge--and, after Drake, can you blame them?--but the show ultimately went off without any major problems, unless you count Bronx-born firebrand Maluca spraying the crowd with any and all liquids within reach. Photos of that, along with shots of Das Racist's Himanshu Suri looking real GQ, a dancing, randy Mad Decent mascot, and some very sweaty people, are below, courtesy of photographer Rebecca Smeyne.

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Jim Jones gives punk rock the gas face. All photos by Rebecca Smeyne.

These are strange, wonderful times for hip-hop fans in New York. Former Roc-a-Fella mogul and Jay-Z cohort Damon Dash is running a modern day version of Warhol's factory out of a rented loft in Tribeca. Curren$y kills time at Bubby's, down the street (where the other day we dined, in close proximity to Jay and Beyonce). And Harlem's Jim Jones, once and future Dipset capo, will happily jet across the river and crash gnarly DIY punk shows. At least, he did on Friday night, where the impossibly resilient Less Artists More Condos/Under 100 kids threw a party featuring Lionshare, Tough Knuckles (featuring Under 100's Ariel Panero on guitar), Das Racist, and Snakes Say Hisss, who brought Jones out for a supremely awkward and awesome cameo appearance at the end of the night, right before the cops showed up. In the back was Damon Dash himself, looking on with pride--an increasingly regular, though no less shocking, sight at DIY shows citywide. Intrepid photographer Rebecca Smeyne was there, of course; her photos and a bit of crazy-looking video are below.

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Fear them. All photos by Rebecca Smeyne.

Jack White plays drums in the Dead Weather, but that didn't stop the White Stripes frontman from making his way to the microphone at some point during his band's set in Prospect Park last night and asking: "You probably read Brooklyn Vegan too, right?" He went on to make all the non-vegans in the audience an offer: "Let's kill a cow together!" Local bonafides thus established, White, his dynamic partner, Alison Mosshart, and the rest of the esteemed power quartet blitzed the crowd with the gothy, witchy blues for which the Dead Weather are so adored. They wore all black, of course. Intrepid photographer Rebecca Smeyne was there; her photos of the action are below.

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Ronnie Spector says hello to ? and the Mysterians. All photos by Rebecca Smeyne.

And so it came to pass on Saturday that the exalted Lincoln Center became a venue for a bunch of aging, outré Detroit musicians. Blame Ponderosa Stomp, the 501(c) 3-certified cultural organization dedicated to the preservation of American roots music, in all its high and low forms. Hence "The Detroit Breakdown," a daylong festival dedicated to some of Motor City's most bizarre exports: the proto-punk pioneers Death; latter day garage rockers the Gories, fresh off a reunion spin through NYC that also included shows at the Bowery Ballroom and Maxwell's; '60s futurists turned early '00s cult rock 'n' rollers ? and the Mysterians; and the eternal endurance machine that is Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels. The venue wasn't entirely full, and many of those who did come were old, but one of them was Ronnie Spector, so show some respect. Intrepid photographer Rebecca Smeyne was there: her photos and captions are below.

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During the audience participation portion of the evening. All photos by Rebecca Smeyne.

The Arizona-based, telephone helmet-sporting, Tom Waits-endorsed one-man machine that is Bob Log III hit the Knitting Factory last night in a black leather jumpsuit, spraying the crowd with "boob scotch" and his signature brand of garbled delta blues. The results, let's say, were picturesque. Luckily, photographer Rebecca Smeyne, who doesn't really sleep, or take days off, was there, and captured Log III in all his baffling glory. Not bad for a Monday night:

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Golden Triangle take it off. All photos by birthday girl Rebecca Smeyne.

So Saturday night's secret post-Siren, post-South Street Seaport party was drunken bikini bash out in Bed-Stuy, where Golden Triangle's O.J. San Felipe managed to electrocute himself via the deadly combination of crowd surfing, Christmas lights, and a healthy puddle of beer on the floor. Fellow Seaport refugees Thee Oh-Sees joined in the fun, as did Frankie Rose and the Outs, and a whole host of people in their underwear. At the center of it all was intrepid SOTC photographer Rebecca Smeyne, who just happened to be celebrating her birthday that night. Of course she managed to get photos of the chaos, in between spraying the crowd with handfuls of birthday cake:

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