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    School of Seven Bells Debut New Record Live

    If there were any opening night jitters, they were shared equally between the sound guy and a MacBook. After guitarist Benjamin Curtis and keyboardist-singer Claudia Deheza stared pleadingly into the glow of a malfunctioning laptop, the machine finallycame to life, the lights went low, and a playful bellow of "It's about fucking time! We love you!" came from somewhere in the crowd as the full band took to the stage. Joined by Claudia's twin sister, Alejandra Deheza, on vocals and guitar and Zachary Saginaw on drums, the band launched into "Windstorm," the first single from their forthcoming sophomore release Disconnect from Desire, out July 13th. For a band rightfully praised for its ethereality and otherworldly vocal harmonies, the sound that filled the small room of the Echo in Los Angeles was surprisingly percussive and floor rattling.

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    Smashing Pumpkins Play Intimate L.A. Show

    The line that snaked down the sidewalk of Cahuenga Boulevard in Los Angeles on Saturday afternoon contained a surprising variety of Smashing Pumpkins T-shirts, from the early '90s Gish era to 2007's Zeitgeist. The occasion was Record Store Day, and the band was treating the first 250 fans that pre-ordered their new EP Teargarden in Kaleidyscope, Volume 1: Songs for a Sailor to an intimate afternoon set at Space 15 Twenty, an open-air courtyard framed by an Urban Outfitters, an art gallery, and a gourmet burger joint. The courtyard was laid out like a tiny festival, with chilled beer in ice-filled tubs and the smell of grilling meat -- a picnic-casual event where head Pumpkin Billy Corgan roamed the fringes in dark collared shirt, black pants, white Nikes with a red swoosh, and a gray cap askew atop his bald pate. After a three-song opening set from local singer-songwriter Carina Round

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    M83 Play Disney Concert Hall with Symphony

    French electro-poppers M83 have always gone for outsized drama with their electronic sound. That's one reason the band's mastermind, Anthony Gonzalez, agreed to share the stage Friday night with the Los Angeles Philharmonic at the city's Frank Gehry-designed cathedral of classical music, the Walt Disney Concert Hall. Unfortunately, the event turned out to be much less than the sum of its musicians. The evening began when Gonzalez took the stage alone. He created moody flourishes that suggested he was hitting chimes with a mallet, instead of buttons on a computer keyboard. After three instrumental pieces, he was gone. The empty chairs that surrounded his opening performance then filled with members of the Philharmonic.

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    Dark Meat Break Ear Drums, Get Shut Down

    To celebrate the unveiling of their new fall collection of music-inspired watches and accessories, Vestal Vestal Headquarters in Costa Mesa, CA hosted a parking lot bohemian bacchanalia on June 27 featuring Athens, GA 17-piece Dark Meat. Flanked by a giant digital clock counting up, the fete had the feeling of a reverse New Year's Eve. Revelers lined up in front of big balloons floating in the night sky marked "beer," "vodka," and "absinthe" acting as roadmaps to particular poisons (the latter served by nurses with tongue-depressors used as cocktail stirrers). Long before the band took the stage, its members had infiltrated the mingling masses with face paint and beads, and, by 10 P.M., the tent filled with the piercing sounds of their horn section, as they launched into "Well Fuck You Then," from their debut, Universal Indians.

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    Fratellis Take a 'Stand' at Spin's Ruby Concert Series

    Bedecked in brown boots, black jeans, and a black and white Beatles Revolver T-shirt, Jon Fratelli emerged from the shadows of the Key Club stage Sunday night (June 15) to open the second season of the Ruby concert series, a music showcase presented by Spin in partnership with adidas Originals and Citi Private Pass. Competing chants shot from different pockets of the restless sold-out room, and a smattering of kids sporting Fratellis T's collected toward the front of the stage, their shirts hastily pulled over dresses and collared shirts, friends standing together in uniform looking like sidelined members of team Fratelli.

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    Original Jane’s Addiction Lineup Reunite, Rock L.A.

    Wide grins all around for this four-piece that crawled its way out of Los Angeles and into the world nearly 25 years ago. Hatchets buried, drugs stashed, the original lineup of guitarist Dave Navarro, drummer Stephen Perkins, singer Perry Farrell, and the firmly elusive bassist Eric Avery (who had categorically declined all previous reunions) convened in Los Angeles last night at the fabled El Rey Theatre for a brief four-song set. Red curtains parted to the sounds of a Spanish-speaking female voice, the now-famous prerecorded prelude to "Stop," and 17 years after the band's final performance on the last Lollapalooza stop in Hawaii back in 1991, stage left was once again occupied by the circling presence of bass player Eric Avery.

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    Stone Temple Pilots Reunite at Houdini's Old Hollywood Haunt

    Watch video highlights from STP's reunion right here! White vans gather up fans and haul them up the hill from Sunset Boulevard into fabled Laurel Canyon. Dusty trails of trampled sand and precarious stone steps surround the mansion, threatening to ruin the high heels and leather loafers of the beautiful people gathered here to witness the first Stone Temple Pilots performance in five, six, ten years, depending on who you ask or overhear. There's a large bust of a man's head, uplit and glowing in carved white stone, presumably of Harry Houdini, one-time resident of this house. Magic is implicitly promised, if not entirely delivered. "Yeah, all right. I wish I was here at this party," Scott Weiland pronounces after a slow-crawl rendition of "Big Empty" starts the show, which was presented by SPIN and Citi.

  • Kid's Nation

    On a front patio of a Greek restaurant in Malibu, Kid Rock puffs on a thick cigar, holding court with friends and family visiting from Detroit; the topics range from Michigan football to Senator Larry Craig's bathroom escapade. It's after 11 P.M. when the 36-year-old musician born Robert Ritchie leaves, driving his black Mercedes up the Pacific Coast Highway to his new house. Inside, it looks like a pricey boutique hotel; there are scented candles, orchids, and a wine fridge. The only signifiers that say "Kid Rock" are a pewter Detroit Tigers tchotchke on a desk and a photo of him tossing the middle finger. That's because this isn't actually Kid Rock's home -- it's his residence, an important distinction. "I don't live here! I live in Detroit," he insists.

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