Who rocks the grilled cheese?

Reputed “ultimate party band” Coconut Coolouts did their best to chill the hell out in Davis last week. That banana suit must have been toasty, though.

Reputed “ultimate party band” Coconut Coolouts did their best to chill the hell out in Davis last week. That banana suit must have been toasty, though.

Photo By LIndsey Walker

Maxwell house: “I was born with the radio on and something on my mind.”

Knock Knock’s Allen Maxwell was cracking up. He could hardly spit out the aforementioned lyrics without train-wrecking. Right in front of him against the stage at Luigi’s Fun Garden, his younger sister and brother whispered heckles back and forth, knocking elder Maxwell’s concentration. It was pretty funny.

Enter Charles Albright. He was up against the stage, too, and playfully separated the Maxwell youngers so elder Allen and the rest of Knock Knock could finish “I Was Born,” the final song of an entertaining, tight, energetic set last Friday in Midtown.

And yes, Albright was sporting his now famous black protective earphones—which brings us to last week’s column (“Rant party” by Derek Nielsen, from “Prescription for permanent hearing loss,” SN&R Sound Advice, July 2).

Nielsen, a former SN&R intern, has written in these pages for more than a year now and is a talented writer, but some of his comments about Baby! guitarist Albright last week shouldn’t have made it into the paper. I regret that those comments made it past my eyes, as his editor, and into print.

Albright is a great musician and passionate advocate for the local music scene (see this week’s Letters, on page 8, as a testament to his longstanding commitment to Sacramento).

There is a place in music criticism, and in these pages, for a good old-fashioned takedown—you know, if the individual in the cross hairs is unequivocally deserving. Albright was obviously not. (Nick Miller)

Pizza puns are in the delivery: The DAM Haus was familiar and typical: agonizing heat, flagrant disregard to the concept of “maximum occupancy,” an alarming number of Miller High Life bottles gathering condensation. The night’s roster: “Party bands,” including Sac’s Four Eyes and the Pizzas, New Jersey’s Personal & the Pizzas, and Seattle’s Coconut Coolouts. It was a high-energy show—good vibes, ego trips, benign trash talking. The Coolouts’ set was greeted with anticipation and reverence usually reserved for royalty or Bruce Lee’s eventual return from the afterlife. It was one of those shows where you’re pretty sure most of your sweat belonged to those next to you, theirs belonged to their neighbors and so on. Eventually, you’re overcome with a great sense of entropy—and then you wonder if there’s any more Shasta left. (Lindsey Walker)

Beyoncé has the personality of a robot?: Beyoncé put on what they call a “powerhouse performance” for a small but lively crowd at Arco Arena last Thursday. Full of glamour, glitz and lots of dancing, Beyoncé proved she has the moves and pipes of a diva icon.

Showing off her decade-long catalog of hits, Beyoncé even performed singles from her Destiny’s Child days. Through each segment, she oscillated between her usual look and her alter ego, “Sasha Fierce,” a futuristic and androgynous high-concept persona, who pushed the limits and made for a much angrier, aggressive performance. Beyoncé strutted the stage in metallic shielded outfits with ultramodern lights and robotic detailing, spitting out lyrics of songs and dominating the arena.

Beyoncé’s intimate performances were lacking. Although she showed childhood home videos and busted out the acoustic guitar, there was no connection, no personality. Even when she appeared dressed in a delicate wedding dress, emotionally covering Sarah McLachlan’s “Angel” and obviously hinting at her marriage to rap mogul Jay-Z, the performance was more perplexing than personal. (Lauren Hockenson)

Evolv-olution: Internet stalkers beware: You may be stalked back.

About a month ago, local deejay 7evin posted a streak of MySpace bulletins that went off on DJ Oasis. He even posted a transcript of an instant-messaging conversation between the two: Oasis accused 7evin of saying that he is not a real deejay; 7evin denied this, and now they are online rivals.

I was feeling bitchy, so I posted on my Twitter that 7evin had issues, in which he responded by posting, “I do have issues. Care to show me your shoes? Much respect.”

After some small talk (i.e., sucking up)—which included 7evin admitting that my dog is cute—I agreed to catch him spin at Evolv (7042 Folsom Boulevard) this past Saturday.

Inside Evolv, plush furniture, upscale décor and a superfriendly staff lends itself to a college-dive-bar-with-class atmosphere. There’s a Guitar Hero setup and hookah lounge in the back patio; Evolv definitely knows its target audience.

But the other people in the club must not have received 7evin’s memos, because I was the only one who even tried to dance. 7evin’s unexpected mix of well-known and indie tracks was like a lesson in good music for indifferent and inattentive mainstreamers; most everyone was busy playing Guitar Hero. (Katie McMillin)