Sound ordinance, Singaporeans and Sludge

Glance at this column, and you know what I love: eardrum-killing music executed without regard to an audience’s well-being, much less to sleeping habits of a rock club’s surrounding neighbors. But something crucial was omitted from September’s City Council-led discussion of a proposed noise ordinance for Fremont East.

Downtown music venues need to get their shit together.

Am I the only one who recalls Halloween Town (right now the best indie-rock act in Sin City) going on at 3 a.m. for a Sept. 9 Neon Reverb set? Do you think Halloween frontman Ryan Pardey wants to step onstage just before dawn? Pardey’s too nice to go on record, but let me to translate what I perceived in his expression: pissed-offness.

And why do promoters text me at 9 p.m. to say a band’s playing “early,” when in fact the opening act doesn’t sound-check until 11? Worse, at this same bar, they often don’t let you enter the courtyard until a band plugs in, forcing you to breathe cigarette smoke (and pretentious hot air). Don’t even get me started on how I narrowly avoided brawling with Sixth Street meth freaks after leaving Las Vegas Country Saloon at 3 a.m. weeks ago. (Short answer: pepper spray.)

Look, I realize it pays for bars to keep patrons drinking until the wee small hours. But downtown music venues need to seriously reconsider how they treat bands and fans of live music. Halloween Town deserves to go on at a reasonable hour (1 a.m. at the latest), and I deserve to not combat zombies en route to my car. A damning observation: A grindcore moshpit at Yayo Taco (it’s a taqueria, folks), a death-metal gig at Cheyenne Saloon (next to North Las Vegas Airport, OK?), and a crust-punk cave show (in the frickin’ desert!) are more likely to begin on time than a Fremont bar concert. The city’s too charitable with these entertainment-botching amateurs.

’Nuff bitching. Here’s this week’s two wildest shows. First, Singaporean black-metal act Impiety occupies Boomers (3200 W. Sirius Ave.) at 10 p.m. Nov. 10. This sincerely satanic group from Southeast Asia has drawn a sizeable cult following in the U.S. since the ’90s with unsubtly titled anthems of thrash-riffing evil such as—man, I hope Mom doesn’t read this—“Anal Madonna.” Bullet-belted, porcupine-banded, and boasting more leather than The Rack in Commercial Center, Impiety will incinerate your hearing, plus your faith in life’s inherent goodness.

You know doom metal’s going mainstream when NPR spotlights a pulverizing band such as The Atlas Moth. The Chicago psychedelic-sludge quintet released its second album, An Ache for the Distance, on Profound Lore last month, to rave reviews. Depending on how well High on Fire brings it, Atlas Moth—7 p.m. Nov. 15, Yayo Taco (4632 S. Maryland Parkway)—could be 2011’s top stoner-rock moment.

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A chocolate-brown pit-bull puff, reminiscent of Our Gang’s Petey, has a cute yet razor-sharp underbite. A fluffy albino lab rat has an unsettling third eye that contrasts with adorable pink ears and tail. Mr. Bones, a green-boned skeleton, has a slightly fractured skull. Indeed, Sarah Flake’s plush toys always come with a little angst.



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