BIG BAD VOODOO DADDY 4/10, HOUSE OF BLUES If you can get past the racist shtick of the name–though why should you?–you’re rewarded with stale fashion-model swing pop that makes the truckload of new ska bands sound downright innovative. These spats-sporting beach boys from Ventura, last heard on the Swingers sound track, claim to be equally influenced by Count Basie and Black Flag, but their shameless lifestyle hucksterism approaches the integrity of neither. We all know that if the public really gave a damn, it’d be snapping up Louis Jordan collections and throwing parties at home–that’s the difference between a real revival and one invented by liquor companies.
Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »
FACE TO FACE 4/11, riviera The quality of youthfulness–coveted by jeans companies and pop-culture critics everywhere–actually has nothing to do with age and everything to do with a renewable ability to surprise. This is why this kind of 90s radio-friendly punk pop pales quickly: When you’re 16, power chords in the basement while the folks are out of town can summarize the essence of life. But by the time you get into your late 20s and start negotiating major-label politics, profit margins, and publicity, listeners can hear arrested development oozing out of the grooves, no matter how catchy the tunes–though Face to Face’s tunes are plenty catchy.
RAMBLIN’ JACK ELLIOTT 4/16, FITZGERALD’S Elliott is the man: He hit the dirt with Woody Guthrie in the late 40s, then moved back to New York, where he showed young Bobby Zimmerman how it was done. His 1962 collection of Guthrie covers arguably showed off his friend’s songwriting genius better than Guthrie ever could himself. Elliott’s own genius isn’t exactly undercelebrated, either–his latest, Friends of Mine (Hightone), features guest appearances by Arlo Guthrie, Tom Waits, Emmylou Harris, Nanci Griffith, John Prine, Bob Weir, and Jerry Jeff Walker. Rosalie Sorrels appears on “Last Letter,” which she helped make famous, and the album is dedicated to the late Townes Van Zandt. But Elliott comes off less like a superstar than a character from Harry Smith’s Anthology of American Folk Music, still roaming the earth in holey shoes and spewing tales about events you’d swear he was too young to remember. He shares the bill with Tom Russell and (relatively) new traditionalist Dave Alvin. –Monica Kendrick
