The Royal Bangs, Jesco White, The Black Keys, Girls Rock & Girls Rule Tour and more

Black and White
We arrived at the Black Keys show at the Ryman Wednesday night in time to hear the very end of Royal Bangs' set, which more or less convinced us that they sounded a bit like TV on the Radio, but with a singer that's not quite as cool. If we ever catch a full set of theirs, maybe we'll have something more to say about them. Until then, we'll know them mostly as the band that announced Jesco White's imminent arrival to the stage. (Really loud cheers—or should we say hollers.) To that announcement they added, "Then The Black Keys." (Tepid cheering.)

After Jesco's family members took photos of each other in the wings, a drunk Jesco staggered on in a red cowboy shirt that he immediately shed so he could get to the focus of his "set"—his nipples. The half-assed clogging, undiscernable singing and continuous conversation with the front row all took a backseat to Jesco's fascination with his flabby belly, his B-sized man boobs and his shiny wallet chain. Enough already from the depressing sideshow.

Fortunately, Jesco was unceremoniously dragged off the Ryman stage (later to be kicked out of the Ryman, according to Dan of The Black Keys). We were ready for some truly talented entertainers, and The Black Keys did not disappoint. Whether it was the people moving to the music or the music itself—jackhammering drums and nimble guitar attack—literally moving the people, everyone on the floor was standing and nodding and swaying. Impressed by the assault Patrick Carney delivers to his drums, we couldn't help but think how we would hate to come back in our next life as his drum kit. The near-earsplitting set was peppered with a couple of songs off their new album, Attack & Release: "I Got Mine" and the apropos "Strange Times." The majority of the set was a mix from their earlier records, including a rowdy "Thickfreakness" to kick things off.

It's the sign of a good show when we want to listen to the band's music the next day at work—we'll just have to wait until our ears stop ringing.

Hear them roar
We've heard a lot of metaphors about female independence lately—80 million cracks in the glass ceiling, something about a pit bull with lipstick—and it's within this climate that the New York-based Girls Rock & Girls Rule Tour stopped at 3rd & Lindsley on Wednesday night. Consisting of five female-fronted bands plus a local band or two at every stop, the tour was nothing if not ambitious. Proceeds from the tour benefit the Willie Mae Rock Camp for Girls, essentially the NYC version of Murfreesboro's Southern Girls Rock 'n' Roll Camp in which campers are taught to play instruments, write songs and be awesome. The various sponsorships, freebie swag and giveaways at the 3rd & Lindsley stop proved that these are some girls who know how to get shit done. Unfortunately, not many people showed up.

But we did. Musically, Joan Jett was the patron saint of Girls Rock & Girls Rule, with each of the tour's core bands owing a debt to the Blackhearts. Loki the Grump set the tone for the night, which was that members of each band were going to pop up onstage during the other bands' sets a bunch. The opening set didn't particularly move us, but the guitarist also happened to be a badass violinist. While the Grump focused on silliness, G-Spot addressed horniness head-on. Their best songs covered the poppier stylings of X and late Pylon, even if some of the quasi-funk left too much of a Red Hot Chili Peppers taste in our mouths.

Two local bands were chosen to share the bill. The first was ShotgunDiary, whose loud/soft Evanescence-styled modern rock would probably sound right at home on not just 102.9 The Buzz, but any of the many The Buzzes found throughout the country. We aren't saying the same for our earholes. Kink Ador's nimble almost-jazz ventured a little too close to jam band for our comfort, but the sax- and keys-laden combo had the tightest sound and sharpest songwriting of the night, with lead singer and bassist Sharon Koltick reminding us of a female Sting except, you know, likable.

We caught most of Marisa Mini & Her Mojo's set of "hey, we're punk rock" punk rock, which wasn't bad at all, but after five bands we didn't have the stamina for two more. After listening to some recordings by America's Sweethearts, we might be a little sorry we missed them. Five hours at 3rd & Lindsley on a Wednesday night proved to be a little too demanding.

What with all the Best of Nashville hoopla, The Spin went to print early this week, before the Silver Jews and Walkmen shows. For shallow, tardy coverage, check out NashvilleCream.com, and send your shitty little complaints to thespin@nashvillescene.com.