by Joseph Geha
Hundreds of people, mostly young Asian women, are lining the sidewalks of Market Street, forming small clusters that weave along the uneven bricks starting in front of the Warfield, and ending at infinity.
They are sitting on unfolded newspapers and chatting with friends, some sipping coffee and tea, others munching on food from boxes on the ground with plastic forks. Others are half asleep, especially those toward the front of the line -- and justifiably so, as they have been there since 7:30 this morning.
Why, you ask?
B.A.P.
Paul Collins founded the Nerves in 1975 with Jack Lee and Peter Case in San Francisco. The group struggled to gain momentum, but the track "Hangin' on the Telephone," from their sole 1976 EP, was propelled into fame by Blondie's faithful cover on the 1978 breakthrough LP Parallel Lines. Following the Nerves, Jack Lee became a solo artist; Peter Case found success in L.A with The Plimsouls, and continues to perform; and Collins founded the Beat.
The Beat's 1979 debut is a high-mark of late-'70s power pop, a softened and polished variety of guitar-centric new wave successfully introduced to a market eager for rock 'n' roll in the wake of punk. While many of the Beat's contemporaries in the power-pop proliferation that followed the wild success of The Knack's "My Sharona" are forgotten, Collins' spirited delivery and indelible harmonies endure. He steadily records and performs to this day, even issuing a career highlight in 2010 entitled King of Power Pop. His late-career triumph affirms Collins as a journeyman honing the limitless potential of melody and the propulsive tempos of the rock band format. Ahead of Collins performance at Thee Parkside tonight (Friday, May 10), we discussed his history with the city and the recent redemption of the once-negative term "power-pop."
Welcome, time-crunched and over-stimulated music fan, to All Shook Down's High Five -- a place where Byard Duncan wades through the shit to find you the hits. Well, five of them, anyway.
This week's selections often seem to work at cross-purposes with themselves -- a positive message nestled behind a doomy name, buoyant instrumentation supporting sarcastic lyrics. In fact, each track's strength is derived in part from its capacity for embracing paradox. These are challenging tracks in that respect, but the rewards are worth rooting around for.
It's been a while since we complained about Glee. Frankly, we just kind of reached a point where it seemed futile to object in the face of such aggressive perkiness anymore. (That, and the show seems to be helping children and teens understand that being gay is perfectly normal, which is obviously a great thing to have happen during primetime.) However, our rage sensors went into hyperdrive this week when we heard the entirely pointless -- yet somehow still deeply aggravating -- Glee version of Icona Pop's "I Love It."
