Jamie Stewart doesn't make things easy — not for fans of Xiu Xiu, not for his group's assorted guest personnel, and certainly not for himself. The San Jose-based musician has long frolicked in the depths of human misery, creating an alluringly fucked-up package out of restrained guitar... More >>

If it’s June and after dark, and you see women tottering around Civic Center in gowns with color palettes from silent films and their dates’ tuxedo jackets on their shoulders, you’ve probably wandered upon the San Francisco Symphony’s biannual Black and White Ball.... More >>

G.B.H.'s world is best visualized as a dilapidated back alley covered in sewage, trash, soot, and other forms of grime you'd rather not get to know better. The Birmingham, England, outfit unleashes street-punk like it's meant to be unleashed, using uppercut-on-the-jaw tempos, gang chants, a... More >>

The young generation fetishizes realness in entertainment, and that's partly Van Halen's fault. The '80s were about mystery and wonder: How do people like Dee Snider or Madonna or the Beastie Boys spring up from nowhere in cone bras and clown makeup to pour beer out on people's heads?... More >>

The young generation fetishizes realness in entertainment, and that's partly Van Halen's fault. The '80s were about mystery and wonder: How do people like Dee Snider or Madonna or the Beastie Boys spring up from nowhere in cone bras and clown makeup to pour beer out on people's heads?... More >>

This dance party gets the records spinning every second and fourth Wednesday of the month. While the red Christmas lights could come across as gauche, they prove to be casually intimate as you and other stylish fauxhemians are transported to 1964. That's right: The Shirelles, the Sapphires, the... More >>

The Riptide's signature brick fireplace was veiled behind red velvet curtains on a recent Sunday night, but the Outer Sunset dive still carried the strong scent of burning embers from the night before. Most days the Taraval Street bar is the stamping ground for surfers, punks, and working-class... More >>

We're just dreaming, but here is our dream: to see dive-bar dancers whose attention to detail matches the obsession of Bay Area vintage-music DJs. For example, at Lonely Teardrops' doo-wop night about a year ago, we lost our composure and requested a Claudine Clark song. "I have one," the DJ... More >>

If you've spent any significant time in the punk underground, no doubt you've been forced to draw your own personal "Emo Line," i.e., the line your Superior Musical Taste™ won't allow you to cross when the music gets too pop, too pouty, or too un-punk to admit liking in public. This... More >>

You can blame Al Gore for the dearth of quality punk rock in the jukeboxes of America. Not because of his li'l censor-happy P.M.R.C. wife (who's done plenty of damage, no doubt), but because Al had to go and invent the internet. What a bum! Even dives with great jukes are phasing out their... More >>

In this shitty economy sometimes you have to choose between beer, rock 'n' roll, and dinner. Not tonight. At the monthly Hot Dogs & Asteroids event, the Casanova makes you pay for the booze, but the rock — and the hot dogs — are free. The "powerpop, bubbleglam, and punk 'n' roll" DJs... More >>

No other sexually ambiguous club night wears its Kierkegaardian handle quite as well as Gay/Not Gay. Guests walking into El Rio on a Monday evening immediately succumb to a meltdown of libidinal uncertainty and psychological ambiguity. Fortunately, DJs Mrs. Robinson and Jenny Hoyston spin a... More >>