Grime spree

Who cares?:
On Thursday night at the Sacramento Comedy Spot (1050 20th Street), I had a shocking flashback to 2005, when an emotional Kanye West on a live Hurricane Katrina Red Cross telethon blurted out, “George Bush doesn’t care about black people.”

It wasn’t because of anything the comics, including Sammy Obeid and killer headliner Hasan Minhaj, had said. Instead, it was the turnout of only about 20 people—two of which were host Keith Lowell Jensen’s parents—that posited whether to substitute George Bush with Sacramentans and black with Pakistani.

All of the proceeds benefited the Pakistan flood victims via the United Nations’ Refugee Agency—you know, the one Angelina Jolie is an ambassador for? Was the low turnout because of so-called “donor fatigue,” or because Sacramento has no sense of humor? Hopefully neither. But text “FLOOD” to 27722 to drop $10 for the cause, just in case. (Shoka)

Deejay dreams:
I’ve been to Grimey—a dubstep dance night every other Tuesday at TownHouse Lounge—three times now, and I still don’t have a clue about the increasingly popular electronic-music genre. That said, I bet I could deejay a quick set, because I feel like I understand what gets a dubstep crowd going.

For starters, dubstep clubbers like a big drop. So I’d build up some introspective tropical dance into a huge bass-delay crescendo, only to unleash a giant, wobbly explosion—think some 1,000 dildos jiggling and bouncing up and down 21st Street—which would have the dance floor full-on vertical, hands in the air, stopping only for the occasional ass shake.

As I write this, I feel like one of those poseurs who dreams of being a deejay but stops short of actually driving over to Skip’s Music, picking up a couple crummy Numarks, a laptop and a copy of Serato and figuring the whole thing out.

So, I’m glad that Dusty Brown, DJ Whores, Evolv, Imfdread, Jay Two, Skurge and Bru Lei will hold down the fort this Tuesday. I’ll hold down the bar. (Nick Miller)

Effin’ it up good:
Sophia’s Thai Kitchen (129 E Street in Davis) never fails to book great bands during its entire summer-music season. On Friday, the Alkali Flats came back to Davis for the first time in three years, and the spirit of good ol’ honky-tonk was awakened in every patron.

The band, decked out in matching white-collared shirts, black ties and cowboy hats, rocked the 1940s-style country-music part while singing lyrics like “You’re a humdinger,” and “My gal don’t wear perfume but you can smell her just the same,” and nailing the Hank Williams tune “Fly Trouble.”

The balcony at Sophia’s (which doubles as a stage and dance floor) was packed to the point of immobility and the air, though outside, was thick with sweat. Even the most swing-dancing-resistant showgoers couldn’t seem to resist a bit of foot stomping, cheering and inevitable drink spilling.

“We’re gonna fuck this one up,” drawled the singer at one point, relishing in a bit of self-deprecation at the band’s lack of recent live performances. “But we’re gonna fuck it up good, so it’s all right.”

And it was good, guys. Real good. (Cat Jones)