A few weeks back I was traveling through Cleveland and decided to make a more focused visit to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I wanted to avail myself of the exhibits and memorabilia that had a District angle. Wandering from floor to floor in the massive and often impressive space, however, I realized that mentions of D.C.’s impact on rock history were spare.

Sure, there were the obligatory references to Billie Holiday and Nat King Cole playing the Howard Theater, and to the Beatles’ first American concert played in D.C. But what became apparent was that according to the Rock HoF, D.C.’s singular role in rock and roll history–what it should be known for–is that of morality police.

For example, a large wall panels just inside the entrance to the main exhibit tell the story of rock and roll’s early fights against the Man.

“Rock and roll is repulsive to right thinking people and can have adverse affects on our young people.”

J Edgar Hoover, Washington DC

It doesn’t end there. Other panels reported on Tipper Gore’s decency crusade and Frank Zappa’s (pictured) appearance before Congress. And in the hip-hop exhibit is the prominently displayed letter sent by the FBI (from DC) to N.W.A’s label expressing their concern at Straight Outta Compton’s content.

Though in the interest of balance, Jim Morrison’s High School Diploma and report cards from George Washington High School in Alexandria, Va. get some wall space.

This morning I got a promo package in the mail–an album by a band called Colourmusic. This mailing was a nice, old-school gesture on the promo people’s part. It is rare getting an actual promo CD. So yeah, thanks Colourmusic! I celebrate your whimsical, vaguely psych-folk stylings! In fact, you can use that as a blurb on your CD. It would look like this:

“I celebrate your whimsical, vaguely psych-folk stylings!–Washington City Paper.”

Instead, Colourmusic chose to blurb from something with a little more gravitas–Wikipedia.

Wikipedia!

The blurb is sooooooo Lester Bangs meets Pitchfork: “They run some sort of hippie commune out there in rural Oklahoma. I heard they all had the same girlfriend.”

Should rock critics get mad? Or is this just a joke?

In this week’s City Paper, intrepid reporter Arthur Delaney takes a break from his, well, intrepid reporting to voice his disappointment with DragonForce’s new album, Ultra Beatdown. This, of course, has made the DragonForce fan club unhappy. Here’s Robius the Horrible:

This reviewer doesn’t know jack. DF is a powerhouse of power.

But it’s not all tautological outrage below the kicker. Commenter Dazey, who believes that Delaney “know JackSxxx,” questions Delaney’s invocation of the term “butt rock.” “What they [sic] heck is that? Must be something they do in Maryland.”

Ha-ha, Dazey! I figured Delaney made the definitions of “butt rock” clear in the review—it’s the posture-heavy glam-metal of two decades past—but he’s gone ahead and clarified for the angry masses: “DF isn’t guilty of spandex (yet), but the fundamental quality that it shares with other Butt Rock practitioners is artistic insincerity. And that is a sin!”

Matter settled, yes? Now we can all get back to playing Guitar Hero—or, for we impoverished folks, the cheap Web-based analogues.

Plenty of Terrence Howard’s standout film roles have showcased his love of music—he rapped in Hustle & Flow, played guitar in The Best Man, and acted alongside OutKast (Idlewild) and 50 Cent (Get Rich or Die Tryin’). That speaks to his deep musical background: His grandmother, Broadway great Minnie Gentry, taught him to play piano, and he grew up listening to albums by his great-granduncle, jazz legend Cab Calloway. On his debut album, Shine Through It, Howard, who sings, writes, and plays guitar, does right by his influences, assembling a batch of jazz, R&B, and neosoul tracks. His crack backup band, led by bassist and co-producer Miles Mosley, moves from flamenco guitar to big-band-era jazz, but the disc’s finest moments are the ballads. On “Love Makes You Beautiful,” Howard’s deep baritone nicely blends with the humming female backup vocals, and the title track is a soulful, uplifting romantic tune. HOWARD PERFORMS AT 7:30 P.M. AT THE BIRCHMERE, 3701 MT. VERNON AVE., ALEXANDRIA. $25. (703) 549-7500.—Alfredo Flores

Friday:

Whether the world needs another garage-rock band is debatable, but Atlanta’s Howlies manage to pick some meat from a pretty dry bone. Deploying a spitfire rhythm section and wall o’ jangle, the quartet wildly careens through tunes that sound like a juvie-hall sock hop. It’s increasingly difficult for skinny boys with guitars to make three-minute ditties sound dangerous, but the Howlies come close, which could be why they caught the attention of producer/über-cad Kim Fowley, ex-manager of teen leatherettes the Runaways. (Fowley shepherded Howlies through their debut, Trippin’ With Howlies, which comes out this fall.) Even without that influence, the band would still have teeth. Howlies supposedly formed after wolves attacked members during a group camping trip, which, if olden legends are to be believed, can produce hairy results. THE HOWLIES PERFORM WITH FOREVERALWAYS, THE BARBERRIES, AND THE DAISY CUTTERS AT 9 P.M. AT THE RED AND THE BLACK, 1212 H ST. NE. $8. (202) 399-3201. —Casey Rae-Hunter

Sunday:

If the Beatles’ “Tomorrow Never Knows” is the Of Mice and Men of psych-rock songs—a concise and to-the-point classic—then Oneida’s Preteen Weaponry is head music’s War and Peace. On its new album, Oneida piles on the krautrock noodling, synth wobbles, and ponderous medieval melodies as if its members were getting paid by the amount of disk space their composition was taking up. The result is a single song that clocks in at a nerve-frazzling 39 minutes. But the Brooklyn-based band puts all of that invested time to good use. “Preteen Weaponry” evolves into a rich and textured epic jam that draws inspiration from across the weirdo-music timeline. The album sounds like a microcosm of the psych fan’s lifespan—listening to it is like watching an entire family of stoners grow up, get married, slowly drift apart, and die. ONEIDA PERFORMS WITH APES AND DIRTY FACES AT 8 P.M. AT THE BLACK CAT BACKSTAGE, 1811 14TH ST. NW. $12. (202) 667-4490. —Aaron Leitko

Experimental music enthusiasts in the DMV have cause to rally once again, as the eighth annual Sonic Circuits Festival will descend on the District for a whole week starting September 28th. Organized by the DC chapter of the American Composers Forum, the Festival highlights a smorgasbord of artists, musicians, and sound technicians from the D.C. area and around the world, providing a wide range of aural experiences; exploratory jazz, electroacoustic composition, volatile electronics, and minimal drone can all be found among the ranks. As the press release proclaims, “the perfect antidote to formula entertainment.” The schedule is now up on the Festival’s Web site, featuring over 60 acts spread across nightly performances at one of the three host venues: Pyramid Atlantic Art Center, National Museum of Women in the Arts, and the Velvet Lounge.

To help ease the event’s expenses, Festival organizers will hold a second benefit this Sunday, August 24th, at Pyramid Atlantic in Silver Spring, featuring performances by three area acts: Macaroon Five, Barsky/Allison, and T.A. Zook.

Macaroon Five boasts a collaboration between Arthur Harrison, Michael Engle and Kevin Buckholdt—a mix of Harrison’s custom-built theremin with Engle and Buckholdt’s intertwined electronics. Also a current member of The Cassettes, Harrison has been tinkering with homemade electronics for decades, and offers theremin kits via his company, Harrison Instruments, Inc. For visual reference, check out the video of Harrison teasing his instrument along with the Tornadoes’ “Telstar.”

Jeff Barsky and Scott Allison will perform as a duo, combining Barsky’s guitar tones with Allison’s tailor-made electronics. Both are regulars in the DC experimental scene, both through cosmic collective Kohoutek, and Barsky via his Insect Factory moniker. Arlington-based sound-manipulator T.A. Zook will round out the bill, showcasing an interesting array of homemade instruments processed through a massive electronics rig.

Those who can’t make it out to the benefit can still donate to Sonic Circuits via the Festival’s site, so don’t miss the chance to color outside the lines and support innovative, inventive music in the D.C. community and beyond.

The Duke Ellington Jazz Festival has annually featured an NEA Jazz Masters Concert, headlined by its newest inductee. In the case of 2008, that was to be Ramsey Lewis, the gospel-drenched pianist who scored a huge hit in 1965 with “The In Crowd” (recorded at D.C.’s Bohemian Caverns).

Alas, no more. Lewis, who was scheduled to play the concert on Saturday night, October 4, at the Lincoln Theatre, is having some health concerns and has had to withdraw from the festival. It’s a terrible shame, particularly if you were unable to attend his wonderful concert at the Kennedy Center this spring.

On the brighter side, however, this does free up the NEA concert bill to include the new-fangled Duke Ellington Orchestra. Or, if that doesn’t tickle your fancy, you can see Monty Alexander at Blues Alley; Sonny Fortune at Twins; or up-and-coming cellist Dana Leong at Busboys and Poets, all happening on October 4 as well. Yay jazz festival!

Jason La Canfora is now referring to Skins backup quarterback Colt Brennan as “Cult of Colt,” or, as he says in a recent Redskins Insider post, “CoC from here on out, if nothing else a nod to Corrosion of Conformity.”

Is the Post’s Skins beat reporter a secret hesher?

The funny thing is, for all La Canfora’s reported friction with Dan Snyder’s organization, doesn’t Jason La Canfora and (Skins GM) Vinny Cerrato sound like the names of two guys who’d have gone to see Nuclear Assault and Savatage together in 1989?

Finally, I would like to thank him for reminding me to take out Animosity this morning. It still rules.

Aesop Rock has improved his diction considerably since his celebration of the 9-to-5 grind on 2001’s Labor Days. He no longer swallows whole words while he spits, though his rhymes—generally, metaphors about the neurotic obsessions he shares with Woody Allen (sex and death)—remain willfully dense and obtuse. Aesop Rock’s core constituency prefers its man to retain his air of mystery; there is actually great fun in being able to decode only one-tenth of what the orally fixated emcee is going on about, even with the benefit of a lyric sheet and a dictionary. On last year’s return to form, None Shall Pass, Aesop Rock ditched the nebulous commercial overtures of his recent work in favor of spare backing tracks from frequent collaborators El-P and Blockhead. On “Citronella,” he simultaneously pokes fun at mass media and grouses about the decline of Western civilization. Pop a Prozac and try not to get too bummed. AESOP ROCK PERFORMS WITH ROB SONIC AND DJ BIG WIZ AT 7 P.M. AT THE 9:30 CLUB, 815 V ST. NW. $20. (202) 265-0930. —Nick Green