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"It's maybe the best thing done by anyone, ever. It could create another planetary system."

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1. Shabazz Palaces: Black Up
Duh, right? Not just a big album for Sub Pop, Seattle, hip-hop, or Shabazz, Black Up stands to be one of the best records of the year, full stop. The album elaborates eloquently on the style established in Shabazz's 2009 twin EPs--hazy yet seismic beats, unconventionally winding song structures, sharp-tongued rapping at turns slick, snarling, and sentimental--but it also opens that sound up to new light. THEESatisfaction lend some jazzy crooning, Ishmael Butler pitches beatific woo [on "A treatease dedicated to The Avian Airess from North East Nubis (1000 questions, 1 answer)"], and throughout, the album's heaviest moods give way to breezy atmospheres and an inviting feeling of playfulness. In a year when so much of the hip-hop conversation has been dominated by bratty provocateurs and underedited uploads, this is your album of 2011: thoughtful, grown, artfully filler-free, and well worth all the talking about. A mindblower.

(Shabazz Palaces blow out Neumos TONIGHT!)

The rest after the jump . . .

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I won't lie: The transition from fully employed music editor to scrounging freelancer has not been without its bumps. Longtime readers will recall--from the same Reverb post that first broke Seattle phenomenon "The Rolling Stones"--a move from Capitol Hill to the Central District, a move greeted by the ominous appearance of a rather fearless live rat. Well, breathe easy, because today I found a dead rat in the exact same spot. And as we all know about rats, where there's one, that's usually it. So I'm pretty sure this was the same one. Rat dead, case closed, onward and upward.

Seriously gross--who the hell rides a razor scooter these days?

​A more pressing problem lately has been the janky-ass wi-fi reception here, which I'm not sure is due to the fact that I'm piggybacking onto my neighbors' or that my laptop is getting on in years (it's probably the latter). I won't bore you with the details except to say that it had me overflowing with punchy rage all day yesterday and that I'm getting it looked at today. Naturally, I listened to the new Fucked Up albumto blow off the steam. The album's whole air of righteous struggle, not to mention all its screaming anthemic choruses, make it good for that sort of therapeutic listening. And lines like "We're running on nothing/The fumes of our dreams/And at another point in my life/That was good enough for me" make for fine commiseration. Rage face unclenched, though, I started wondering what other songs I might have lying around to soundtrack the old love and squalor . . .

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Britney Spears played at the Tacoma Dome on Wednesday, June 29. Photo by Marcella Volpintesta.

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Britney Spears
Wednesday June 29
Tacoma Dome

What are we allowed to expect from a pop star anymore? How many costume changes does a pop star need before we grab their shoulders and just ask them to be themselves? While watching Britney Spears' set at the Tacoma Dome on Wednesday night, it was hard to not be repeatedly puzzled by lots of questions, and overwhelmed at the spectacle of it all.

Spectacle seems to follow Spears onstage and off, and that's what we show up for, right? Hardcore or casual fan, we're all there to see SOMETHING happen. None of us are even quite sure who Britney Spears truly is to this day, and that makes us even more curious. Whether she's a total train wreck or laser-focused, we're not picky; we just want to see it happen. If Britney Spears has herself figured out, it's hidden behind layers of smoke, lasers, fireworks, ninjas, light-up clothing, and nods to other artists that she tosses off as quickly as a costume change.

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Marcella D. Volpintesta

Britney Spears played the Tacoma Dome on Wednesday, June 29. Duff McKagan's column runs every Thursday on Reverb.

​So, um . . . yeah. I, your trusty scriber of all things mostly rock, am going to try my best here to give you all a blow-by-blow account of my experience Wednesday night at Britney Spears' Tacoma Dome concert. Yep.

Some of you may remember me writing here about my night at the Justin Bieber concert. If you do, then you will also know that I am the father of two girls, now aged 10 and 13. I encourage music and arts with my daughters, so when they want to see a concert (any concert!), I will take them. I have learned to leave my preconceptions sitting next to my dog Buckley--squarely at home.

OK, enough of me explaining my attendance.

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​Bay Area rapper Lil B--formerly of The Pack and also known as The Based God--is known for blazing his own path. As a fully independent artist who's built an impressive catalog, a massive online following (spanning Twitter, YouTube, and Tumblr), and a touring deal with LiveNation, at any given time that might mean developing his signature cooking dance, calling himself a "pretty bitch," or adventurously naming his albums.

And when he announced at Coachella in April that his next record would be called I'm Gay, the ensuing mayhem reached death-threat status. But Lil B is quick to clarify: As he told MTV, "I'm very gay, but I love women. I'm not attracted to men in any way. I've never been attracted to a man in my life. But yes I am gay, I'm so happy. I'm a gay, heterosexual male." After all that, then, it shouldn't be surprising that the album was suddenly released with little more than a tweet to introduce the "HISTORICAL PROJECT."

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​Lucinda Williams, with Jesse Sykes & Phil Wandscher
Woodland Park Zoo
June 29

Maybe three years ago, when Doug Pettibone was still the lead guitarist in Lucinda Williams' band, Duane Allman and Jerry Garcia went on an overnight drunk in guitar-god heaven, where such behavior is encouraged, and Jimi Hendrix is the supreme deity. Although he's from Georgia, Allman wanted to drink in an atmosphere reminiscent of Durham, North Carolina, so--poof!--Jimi made it so.

After splitting a jug of homemade whiskey, Jerry and Duane stumbled upon a fountain on the Duke University campus, where they elected to relieve themselves. Given that they'd just consumed a jug of whiskey, their aim was a little off. Inadvertently, they crossed streams, and a spritz of the golden gods' golden shower was sent tumbling toward earth in the direction of Venice, California. Ultimately, it fell on the shoulder of one Blake Mills, who assumed it was a drop of rain. In fact, it was destiny.

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If you've been anywhere near a music blog or record store in recent days, you've heard the praise: The Seattle Times' Andrew Matson named debut Shabazz Palaces LP Black Up "the album of the year," while sometime SW writer Eric Grandy took to Pitchfork with an 8.8/10 rating and, among other things, called the record "magical." In this week's edition, Conor Christofferson touched on the mystery of Shabazz Palaces and its enigmatic frontman Ishmael Butler:

He's been called a genius, the future of hip-hop, and the greatest rapper alive, and despite his nearly two decades in the music business, much of that praise has come in just the past two years, on the strength of two anonymously released Shabazz Palaces EPs, a handful of performances, and even fewer interviews.

Fresh off the release of his debut LP Black Up, out Tuesday on Sub Pop, the in-store appearance at Easy Street Records' Queen Anne location promises spectacle for the two-night CD release celebration at Neumos.

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. . . She did get to perform Pat Benatar's "Love Is a Battlefield" with a troupe of child dancers/martial artists and her coach, Cee Lo Green, dressed up like a giant Satanic rooster. It was bizarre, and also really awesome. Martinez and Green's duet closed Tuesday night's show, during which she also sang an original song written for her called "Afraid to Sleep." As all the show's judges noted, Martinez gave the performance everything she had, but on last night's finale show, Javier Colon was announced the winner of Season 1. Regardless of the results, throughout the season Martinez proved to a national audience just what a powerhouse vocalist she is; it was endearing to see how much Cee Lo invested in her career and to hear him speak of how he believed Martinez was a fine example of a motivated and clearly empowered female artist.

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​Earlier this week we gave away a pair of tickets to tonight's Lucinda Williams show at the Zoo to the person who sent in the best picture of a burger. Technically, the burger above, submitted by Ben Shapiro, is the winning burger. But what really put Shapiro--and his burger submission--over the top is that Shapiro included a note directing me toward the Burger GPS app, which lists the top burgers in America. Normally, this wouldn't have pushed Shapiro's submission over the edge, but considering that he MADE THE APP, we decided that definitely warranted a win.

Thanks to everyone for playing. Stay tuned for more giveaway soon.

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