Warpop Party, Christian Glam, Cavemen Riffs

The show that everyone—Las Vegas folks who love live rock music, anyway—keeps texting me about is Candy Warpop’s CD-release party at 8 p.m. August 15 at Triple B. The new album, financed via Kickstarter and released digitally two weeks ago, is called Transdecadence. This time, Warpop isn’t as sugary, moving in a gothier direction. This might be because of singer Amy Pate, whose bluesy voice adds grit to a band I’d always thought sounded a bit Britpop. Which isn’t to say there are no hooks here. With its four-on-the-floor momentum, highway drive-worthy “Locusts & Birds” feeds on my favorite L.A.-punk touchstones—Concrete Blonde, X. But psyche-drenched “Plastic Earth” sounds like a different musical realm for this rising quartet. I’m eager to get the physical release; the digipak comes with a poster by artist Sonny Kay (The Mars Volta). Mercy Music and Tiger Sex kick off the festivities.

Bible-thumping headbangers Stryper are set to save rock-hardened souls with an acoustic show at 8 p.m. August 16 at Sunset Station. In a comeback effort, Stryper released a CD of re-recorded material, Second Coming, earlier this year. In addition to revisiting early hits such as “To Hell With the Devil,” the band threw in some new tunes. Indeed, “Bleeding From Inside Out” fits right in. Sure, there’s a novelty factor in seeing this band live. But I’m not afraid to admit that “Soldiers Under Command” is a bitchin’ track with divine guitar solos. Mike Tramp, the singer who gave ’80s hair-metal act White Lion its pride, opens.

Seattle stoner-metal power trio Wounded Giant lumbers into The Dive at 10 p.m. August 18 with Las Vegas’ own Demon Lung and California apocalyptic-blues outfit Dark Earth. The Giant guys must down-tune their guitar strings to subsonic levels, because every monstrous riff they unleash sounds scraped from the radar-thwarting bottom of Loch Ness. Wounded Giant already supported hometown heroes Demon Lung on a West Coast tour in July. After this show, the two groups again hit the road. If you crave music that stresses psychedelic guitarmanship, don’t miss this one.

Colorado is churning out some malignant underground rock groups. Among the most dread-infused acts is blackened-doom trio Primitive Man. These guys ape the din of starving Neanderthals on a saber-toothed tiger hunt gone disastrously wrong. Primitive Man unveiled the full-length album Scorn last year, which Relapse re-releases this week. I received an advanced CD, and it’s an unsettling listen. Primitive Man stumbles into The Dive at 10 p.m. August 20 with Wyoming punk band Reproacher and local grindcore terrorists God’s America.

Your Vegas band releasing a CD soon? Email Jarret_Keene@Yahoo.com.

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By Steve Bornfeld

Ominously coined by some showbiz types as “the bullet-taking spot,” the job of opening a show for a headliner—of warming up a “cold room” so the star can enter to a sizzling-hot crowd—is a rite of onstage passage for performers. Frequently an unenviable assignment, it sometimes falls to singers or specialty acts, but is often handed to comedians, especially ahead of bigger-name comedians. In a field where success is defined as having “killed” and failure is “dying” onstage, the bullet analogy seems entirely apropos.



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