LIVE: Music Picks Dec. 15-21 | Music Picks | Salt Lake City | Salt Lake City Weekly
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Music » Music Picks

LIVE: Music Picks Dec. 15-21

Planes Mistaken for Stars, Old Dominion, Jerry Joseph & The Jackmormons and more

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Planes Mistaken for Stars, Glow, God's Revolver, Charlatan
The post-Nirvana explosion and the relatively new CD format boosted popular music sales figures in the '90s. These days, approximately 20 years later, a whole passel of those musical outfits have been or are near celebrating two decades extant—and '90s nostalgia is in full bloom. Denver-by-way-of-Peoria, Ill., post-hardcore quartet Planes Mistaken for Stars is one of those bands, having debuted in 1998 with a self-released, self-titled EP, then going on to record for noteworthy indies like Deep Elm, Dim Mak and No Idea. They're the missing link between hardcore punk, a touch of the grit of metal, the rhythm of good old-fashioned rock 'n' roll, and even the melodicism of pop—seemingly something for everyone in an age of increasing niche-ification. Their newest, Prey, comes to us via Deathwish label (same as local Cult Leader!) and finds them in good form after nearly a decade in between recordings. Locals Gloe, God's Revolver and Charlatan open. (Brian Staker) The Urban Lounge, 241 S. 500 East, 8 p.m., $12 in advance, $15 day of show, 21+,


Old Dominion, Steve Moakler
Old Dominion might be the best example of country music's unabashed embrace of contemporary pop precepts—a band that eschews cowboy hats and tear-in-my-beer ballads in favor of a snappy up-tempo sound that's both radio-ready and engaging. With a stunningly successful debut album oddly titled Meat and Candy, as well as a string of successful singles—not to mention a nod from the Academy of Country Music (Breakthrough Group of the Year), nominations from the Country Music Association (Best New Artist, Vocal Group of the Year) and acceptance via the American Music Awards (Favorite Duo or Group—Country)—this crafty quintet has become Nashville's newest sensation. Opener Steve Moakler is the perennial journeyman musician, an unassuming singer and songwriter whose music is the result of experience and inspiration. Dierks Bentley recorded his song "Riser," prompting a Grand Ole Opry debut and critical kudos from any number of prestigious publications. Humble to a fault, Moakler's aw-shucks attitude assures an instant embrace (Lee Zimmerman) The Depot, 400 W. South Temple, 7 p.m., $21 in advance, $26 day of show,


Jerry Joseph & the Jackmormons
You hear about these magical singer-songwriters all the time. These guys who're possessed of some cosmic fuckin' gift, how they can weave tunes from the electricity in the air, and articulate things in a way mere mortals cannot. Whether or not they're all that special depends on whether or not you connect to the music. Some people can't get past Bob Dylan's loopy nasal voice to understand why he deserved a Nobel Prize. Others can't figure out why Chris Whitley had to pile on so many effects to a perfectly fine Resonator guitar, or why Nick Cave sounds like he showers in patchouli and blood. Jerry Joseph has spent more than 30 years toiling in relative obscurity, releasing 30 albums, touring like a beast and playing every show like it's his last—while bigger artists sing his praises and cover his songs, and guys like me slobber over everything he does, and fester to add our voices to the epic redemption song that is his backstory. He's still playing clubs and small theaters, and when he does, you can scan the crowd and see people, mouths agape, eyes transfixed, visibly touched in some secret section of their souls ... Yup. Sounds like bullshit hyperbole, or at least a trite screenplay. Except he's real. Jerry Joseph is real. (Randy Harward) The State Room, 638 S. State, 8 p.m., $16, 21+,


There's an aspect of jam bands we don't hear about. Something beyond stereotypes and tropes like the hippie/pothead jokes and the songs that never end. Or the names that reference weed and eating and maybe eating weed. That thing is a general vibe. And yes, "vibe" sounds like we're headed for more of the same. Maybe we are—or at least we're fleshing out the surface scratches by explaining that maybe weed and hippies symbolize more than melting into a couch and never bathing or rambling on and on for what seems like an eternity before getting to something that more or less resembles a point, or at least an end. It's freedom. The freedom to be who you are, on your own terms and on your own clock, and to feel good about it. Listen to almost any jam band—the Dead, Phish, Widespread Panic, Ekoostik Hookah, Jupiter Coyote, Leftover Salmon, Umphrey's McGee, moe. That vibe is the common thread, and it snakes through the music of Moab quartet Stonefed, who come up here for their monthly two-nighter at the Hog Wallow this weekend. If you need a break before that last weeklong holiday clusteryouknowwhat, a sunny palate cleanser before it gets real, these guys have the prescription. But just so we're clear, it's not medical marijuana. (Randy Harward) The Hog Wallow, 3200 E. Big Cottonwood Canyon Road, Cottonwood Heights, 9:30 p.m., $7, 21+,


FRIDAY 12.16
Johnny Neel, Bryon Friedman
After a career spanning 35 years and countless songs, concerts and recordings alongside the Allman Brothers Band, Gov't Mule, Warren Haynes, Michael McDonald, Dickey Betts and numerous others, Johnny Neel's ability to summon a soulful, gritty groove is long established. Blind from birth, he taps a seminal style of Southern blues, flush with fury, frenzy and determination. On his own, he's capable of nothing less than a rousing revival. Sharing the bill is Bryon Friedman, a Park City performer whose supple blend of tender tones, barroom bravado and late-night nuance defines him as a superior storyteller with a thoroughly seasoned sound. Three albums on, he's staked his claim as a local favorite, one whose equally capable of delivering both humor and heartbreak. (Lee Zimmerman) O.P. Rockwell, 628 Main, Park City, 9 p.m., $10,


FRIDAY 12.16
The Anchorage, Gorgeous Gorges, MIOS
It's a night of ska-lebration of the ska-eason by local acts—for once, none of them named after ska-ggestive foodstuffs like dills or gherkins or cucumber engaged in acts of musical locomotion. The Anchorage strives for songwriting a little more passionate than the bouncy, jokey fare of some in the genre; their self-released album Regrow (2015) has a bit of an environmental theme. A horn section is prevalent in Gorgeous Gorges, with vocalist Jonali Sorensen adding a female voice to the proceedings. This is somewhat of a reprise of "Skalloween," also hosted at Kilby Court, which marked the GG's debut performance, with The Anchorage and several other groups. The faux ska-riness of Oct. 31 was well suited to ska, and it should transfer well to the season of giving, as big-hearted as ska music is. MIOS (Music Is Our Soul) adds some dub and reggae to the festivities. (Brian Staker) Kilby Court, 741 S. 330 West, 7 p.m., $6,

Hair metal has always had a foothold in Utah. The genre, you might say, even held on tight in SLC during the early '90s, when it was getting grunge's dirty army boot up its leather-encased ass. Coming, as these bands were wont to say, from Hollywood, Wildside didn't release their debut album Under the Influence until 1992, but they enjoyed some radio success in spite of their tardiness. Our own KBER 101.1 FM played the hell out of the singles "Hang On Lucy" and "So Far Away," and seemed to have the band as in-studio guests every time they played here. True to their trashy hair band image, Wildside made jokes about a bodily fluid that "smells like a swimming pool" while yukkin' it up with Mick and Alan. As with many of the truly good genre latecomers, it took three years for Wildside's sophomore album to surface, but they held on, just like Lucy, until they couldn't. According to Lexis Nexis—I mean, Wikipedia—in 2004, Wildside performed back-to-back sold-out comeback shows right here in SLC. Now they're headed back here with 80 percent original members, and a serious live show. Drew Hannah has lost vocal (and hair) range with age, but Wildside's sneering brand of hair metal is now nastier than ever. (Randy Harward) The Royal, 4760 S. 900 East, 7 p.m., $20 in advance, $25 day of show, 21+,