I tried to get into this all-female irony of hipsters (if you've been reading this blog, you'll know that "irony" is the name for a group of hipsters), but they were all elbows and shoulderblades and dancing and not talking to boys.

It was too much for this poor guy. I watched him go down. Then I watched his drink go down on him.

Hey, nice outfit, though.

No, seriously, here's the score: I didn't ask any chicks whether they dug any rock and roll -- chicks are the reasonrock and roll was invented. The question at last night's Rich Boys / Selmanaires / Black Lips show was what'd these bands do to get the girls out? Well, we already know the Rich ones' local reputation -- they're our punk rock party boyfriends. Taking the stage at 9 last night, the Boys were more sober and calm than I've ever seen them. As a result, their set lacked energy but virtually abounded with precision, especially in the guitar realm. Then again, that approach can backfire; as one onlooker observed, "I liked what they were doing when they first started out -- kind of a Velvet Underground thing. Now I'm hearing some...early Aerosmith in there." Uh-oh-spaghetti-Os, boys.

The dancing shots that opened this entry I took during the next band's set. Like the night's headliner, the Selmanaires are from Atlanta, Georgia, but unlike the Black Lips, these guys traffic in downtempo dance rock. Barked vocals, disco beats, echo guitar swells and auxilliary percussion made for an RIYL list that would look like: Talking Heads, "Run Like Hell," Brian Eno, the Rapture, the Rapture, the Pix-- no, wait, the Rapture. But considering the Selmanaires' jaded stage presence, a better summation might be "In case of Rapture, this band will be unattended" or maybe just Bored! at the Disco. Still, it wasn't bad, and the girls did dance. I didn't get any clear pictures of the band, but, tellingly, a photo from a NY show on the band's MySpace pretty much conveys the exact spirit of last night's show.

Onto the sweetness...

WAM.

BANG.

SHANGALANG.

In terms of the music and the energy, Vice mascots the Black Lips put on a frenzied show that evoked what the Kingsmen must've been like at fraternity parties, circa 1965. But instead it was a bunch of dirty hipsters and a few older people slamdancing and crowdsurfing on a Wednesday night at the Grand Emporium (nicely done, Grand Emporium) to filthy, oldies-style garage rock. In fact, things got way out of control right at the start. Apparently, the Lips' reputation as wildmen is such that some fans think the thing to do is get totally wasted during the opening acts and go werewolf as soon as their heroes hit the stage. Drinks were thrown, people were shoved, and, suddenly, a tall, metal bar chair was airborne. A scuffle spilled over and around the wall separating the bar from the dancefloor ,and people had to be separated from each other and/or kicked out. For their part, the Black Lips called for people to chill the fuck out and have a good time.

One guy who was doing just that was local wine expert Doug Frost. The fu-manchu-sporting sommelier has been a fan of the Black Lips since picking up their live album from earlier this year, Los Valientos Del Mundo Nuevo. The title of the band's latest, Good Bad, Not Evil, was inspired by the Shangri-Las song "Walk Right Up To Him (Give Him a Great Big Kiss)". When I saw that Doug had a cup of Guinness in one hand and a sippin' shot of tequila in the other, that's exactly what I wanted to do to him. I'm sure he's glad I didn't.

The show -- one of the most fun shows I've been to in a while -- raged on until after midnight. The best attribute of bands like the Black Lips is the inclusive nature of the live show. You don't have to be a fucking hipster (or fucking a hipster, for that matter) or anything bullshit like that to have fun. You just gotta have breath in your lungs and rock on your brain.

Liquor helps, too.

Just ask Mitch Rich.