Rock ’n’ rap ’n’ Britney

The Alkali Flats wore a lot of hats at the Merle Haggard birthday show at Old Ironsides on Monday.

The Alkali Flats wore a lot of hats at the Merle Haggard birthday show at Old Ironsides on Monday.

Photo By SHOKA

Rock gigs: Throw a rock during Second Saturday and you’ll no doubt hit a live band. And the old adage too applies: Throw it hard.

Aw, c’mon, Nick: There’ve got to be some rad bands on Second Saturday, right?

Yeah, I guess you’re right.

Start at Buff Castle, Daniel White and Liz Liles’ zany little DIY/vintage store, and check out Pregnant, electronica/noise outfit from Placerville, who’ll play with Talibam!, Conncet 9 and Stag Hare (1115 21st Street).

After that lineup jacks with your gulliver, jaywalk over to Time Tested Books for the kooky Easter European rhythms of San Kazagascar, which is headed by one Jed Brewer, who I urge you not to ever throw a rock at. They start up at TTB at 7 p.m. (1114 21st Street).

Across the river, the Tumbleweeds will spin a few yarns and pluck a few chords at Vox Gallery (600 Fourth Street in West Sacramento), which is free and all ages. And back over in Midtown at Cuffs Urban Apparel (2523 J Street), Mom and 20,000 will provide the sounds, and gig-poster designer and artist Johnny Flores will exhibit.

Save rocks for the Jazz Jubilee. (Nick Miller)

Farrell’s Fender: Everyone who knows me accepts that I’m hopelessly addicted to the Cruis’n World arcade at Luigi’s Fun Garden in Midtown. It’s pathetic. Or was pathetic. That’s right: I’m over it. Thanks to Mike Farrell.

The moment happened at the end of Th’ Losin Streaks’ loud-ass set last Thursday. Farrell, mid-solo, ripped his Fender ax off his shoulder and chucked it across the stage, blasting through the crimson velvet curtain as it barreled right at Cruis’n World.

Afterward, Farrell at first couldn’t find his Fender. But there it was, wedged between the game and the venue wall. And for me, Farrell’s bad-ass act of rock-god defiance was an eye-opener: Screw children’s video games, I want me some guitar. (N.M.)

Nocturnal emissions: I was talking with DJ Nocturnal the other day, and the conversation turned toward battles. What happened to people calling each other out? Gone are the days of one deejay calling out another deejay and seeing who can make the crowd jump harder. Maybe someone needs to call out DJ Oasis. Maybe it’s high time that DJ Rated R gets a tuneup. Or maybe DJ Nocturnal himself is in need of a turntable check. What about emcees? Is it time that Random Abiladeze puts his microphone where his mouth is? What about Mahtie Bush? That guy certainly talks a big game about “the real hip-hop.” Anyone?

C’mon, hip-hop dudes, we’re getting bored over here. (Josh Fernandez)

Writer gets wroted on: This dude Bugzy actually gets it, though. In the spirit of hip-hop, he sends his CD No New Jack along with a letter that calls me out for not covering artists from north Sacramento. The letter goes on to say how his friend from north Sac also sent a letter, and it was ignored, which might be true, because I ignore a lot of stuff.

Anyway, onto Bugzy’s CD, of which he says the single “Can I Touch Your Braids” has received some attention. I can see why: With a simple beat over synthesized xylophone effects, Bugzy flows with a half-whisper about braids. (“Let me see your twists / yeah, let me see your cornrows”). That automatically gives him points for originality. And on “Bring It Back Down,” he kicks a “Nutty North” anthem over a supremely nice electro beat that can’t be argued with.

But alas, there’s too much of what you expect on No New Jack: the hand clap, overbearing synth and that drum-roll pattern (“Let It Cook”; “How I’m Riden”; “I Was Born”) that ultimately slows down the program. The CD comes to a near halt on the “Gotta Let You Know” with its backwash of synth and a cheesily sung hook that sounds like a throwback to the worst of ’90s R&B.

No New Jack is a flawed CD that definitely has its moments. The predictability of the production is cut nicely with Bugzy’s innovative lyrics that detail in depth a life lived for the streets, a life lived for redemption and life lived for his family.

Bugzy ends his letter: “If my name was 2Pac or Mac Dre would that lessen the intimidation levels?” And the answer is, with all due respect, you’re no 2Pac or Mac Dre. (J.F.)

MILF: Hey, check this out: If you don’t have Britney Spears tickets for Saturday at Arco Arena, get them. Or don’t. I don’t give a shit. (J.F.)