Rodrigo y Gabriela, My Morning Jacket, Oneida and more

Fast y furious
With all the sweaty rock shows we frequent, it's a rare treat to catch what laypeople refer to as "concerts" in the beautiful, well-air-conditioned Ryman. So former thrash metal guitarists Rodrigo y Gabriela were too enticing to pass up. Opener Mike Younger wasn't quite our speed with his cheesy, bare-chested riffing, so we spent most of his set downing some overpriced cold ones in the Ryman's lobby. We made it back to our seats just in time to catch Rodrigo and Gabriela taking the stage. We honestly expected anyone who spends as much time practicing guitar as these two to be fat Guitar Center types in matching Hendrix shirts; turns out they're quite striking. From the moment they began, they played like they were on fire. Gabriela pounded out triplets on the body of her guitar, her hand flailing wildly as though her wrist were made of rubber. Rodrigo, in stark contrast to his colleague, used controlled, miniscule movements of his strumming hand to pick out riffs at flight-of-the-bumblebee speed. The duo also showed their rock roots, playfully breaking into bars of "Smoke on the Water," "Wish You Were Here," "Seven Nation Army" and "Voodoo Chile" at random intervals. Just before Rodrigo and Gabriela started in on the sinister chord progression of Metallica's "Orion," their ever-present guitar tech attached a tiny camera to each guitar, producing close but shaky footage of their furious fingers that was projected onto the screen behind them. At one point, Rodrigo asked if anyone in the audience wanted to perform a song of his or her own. The woman sitting directly to our left volunteered, and while she was no virtuoso, she had a surprisingly impressive voice. Pretty good considering that Rodrigo himself admitted bringing audience members onstage often proves to be "fuckin' 'orrible." With their enchanting presence and genuine, unbridled talent, Rodrigo y Gabriela were a perfect fit for the Ryman. Finding our way back to the car proved to be a bit challenging with our faces melted off, but we managed.

Three-way by the river
We know we should know better. My Morning Jacket. 8 p.m. Riverfront Park. No mention of an opener. On a Titans game night. More people downtown plus blocked-off streets equals less available parking than usual, so we do have an excuse at the ready—but honestly, there's no reason why our first whiff of MMJ's ear-candy should've come as we were passing B.B. King's, getting ready to enter, while the eponymous track from their latest, Evil Urges, was just entering the last of its two dueling-guitar breakdowns. Fortunately, MMJ has a catalog. One they're not afraid to dip into. So despite showing up 45 minutes late, we were still treated to two solid hours of Louisville-bred rawk. Now, to be sure, there were at least three different concerts last Friday night. The first occurred up front, by the stage, amid the pack of sweaty campers who'd staked their spots early. Theirs was a hands-up, hopping, rowdy mess, with an occasional rainbow spray of tossed glowsticks, the same ringed bracelets that came to life on the stage floor when the lights went down. The second group was the outer ring revelers. Brahs and brah-ettes who'd laid down blankets between grassy tiers and staked spots close to the beer lines and port-o-potties. MMJ as picnic music. Fortunately for them, the sound of Jim James & Co. carried crisply in the acreage between the stage and the candy apple cart. Freak-out funk track "Highly Suspicious," played halfway through a six-song encore, proved to all naysayers that MMJ's Prince fixation pays dividends for everyone. Sure there's less reverb, but these guys make dance music now. And it's fucking good. But there's one group we've neglected to call out yet. The troglodytes who paid $30 to see America's Best Band and ended up parked in front of the Miller Lite camper, watching the Titans on a flat-screen. They missed James Rockette-ing his way through a solo from "Dancefloors." Missed it when he literally tried to bunny-hop Nashville resident and MMJ guitarist Carl Broehmel out to the front of the stage. And they missed James' love note to "Nashvegas," when he name-dropped some of his favorite local landmarks to raucous "I've been there!" applause: Eastland Café, Margot, Grimey's, etc. Of course, the game did eventually end, and as the mouth-breathers shuffled away from the tube, MMJ crescendoed into another top-this chord-burner while the sky lit up with postgame fireworks. So who cares if we were late? After all, when you're talking about the party of the summer, all that really matters is that you were there at the end.

Last night becomes this morning
Jah Division kicked things off Monday night at The End with an extended sitar/sequencer jam that alternated between noodling and knob-twiddling but had a nice thump to it. There was definitely someone in The Dirty Faces playing a keyboard (with a nice Steelers logo on it) amid the churning chords, but damn if we could hear it. (There were about 15 seconds of their set that reminded us of Brainiac and we got excited, briefly.) JEFF the Brotherhood got all the kids a-rockin' and a-bumpin' into each other up front with a set of hair-shaking and drop-D riffage. After the brothers Orrall, headliners Oneida whipped out the Preteen Weaponry, playing all three songs from the band's latest in their entirety. Bobby stabbed at his keyboard, then later traded instruments and pummeled a bass; Kid was a blur on drums and never seemed to tire, keeping each song tight and moving forward. Oneida kept the in-between-song banter short, but the crowd still had time to shout out favorites. "Sheet of Easter," from Each One Teach One, was the only request that got fulfilled—from the first notes, the song was met with pumping fists, and by the end, the crowd was in a trance. As the clock ticked on into the morning hours, we wished it were Friday, but it wasn't. Oneida kept it short and sweet for a Monday night. Let's hope they come back soon and give us another jolt of light.

Dollar beers: The more you drink, the more you save! Nashville Cream Two-Year Anniversary Party. This Saturday at Mercy Lounge. Send your guest list requests (include photo) to thespin@nashvillescene.com.