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So there’s this spaceship, right? And it’s hurtling through the galaxy in search of inspiration because earth is out of creativity, or so the voice-over tells us.

Anyway, it crashes, the spaceship does, right there on the stage of the Ford Amphitheatre and who should emerge from the smoldering wreckage but, “the brightest star in the galaxy” - there’s that voice-over again - Kanye West!

Well who else? He’s established that he believes himself to be the greatest thing to hit the universe, so why not play it up?

Indeed, it would take an ego the size of, well, West’s to perform a full-length live set with absolutely no-one else on the stage save for yourself (and a cameo by opening act Lupe Fiasco near set’s end).

But it takes something for stronger than hubris to do that and make it an entertaining, even memorable, show.

It helps, of course, that West had three album’s worth of hip hop’s strongest pop music from which to draw.

West sequenced the set list to tell the story of his crash landing and eventual rescue from an unknown planet. When his talking spaceship reminded him that “this isn’t your first crash,” it cued “Through the Wire,” the story of the car accident that temporarily derailed West’s career. A prayer for rescue - in which West promises God that he’ll “stop spazzing out at awards shows” - preceded “Jesus Walks.” When West discovered that he and he alone could - naturally - could power his broken spaceship, the vocoder intro to “Stronger” pulsed from the speakers.

What saves West’s ego from being insufferable is that it’s combined with a sense of humor and also with genuine emotion, displayed most openly on “Hey Mama,” a song written before the death of his mother last year. Afterward, West sat on the side of the stage as his band, hidden away beneath the stage, played Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’.”

West makes no bones about the fact that he thinks a lot of himself, and on nights like Monday, it’s hard to disagree with him.

Lupe Fiasco took the stage at 6:15 p.m. with a blistering sunset threatening the retinas of the early crowd. His no-frills set - a black backdrop, a DJ and some contributions from a pair of vocalists and a second MC - didn’t detract from the strength of numbers such as “Go Go Gadget Flow,” “Superstar” and “Hip Hop Saved My Life,” although some over-singing robbed “Paris, Tokyo” of its lazy sensuality.

N.E.R.D. positively burned through its set, bringing audience members on stage to dance, and building anticipation for the group’s third album, out June 10. The group’s rock and hip hop hybrid gets the balance right in a way the nu-metal crowd never could.

In contrast, Rihanna seemed subdued by comparison during her 35-minute set. The set ended, not surprisingly, with her biggest hit, “Umbrella,” featuring her dancers twirling the titular objects. An earlier song may have overshadowed West’s concept with Rihanna’s dancers swinging light sabers.

The crowd was reported at about 9,500. 

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Swiss pharmacist Albert Hoffman passed away Tuesday at 102. I don’t know if Hoffman ever played a instrument, but his influence on music continues as long as drugs remain a part of the equation with sex and rock ‘n’ roll.

Hoffman invented LSD, the mind-bending substance that fueled so much great music of the 1960s and beyond. The Beatles’ “Rubber Soul” and “Sgt Pepper’s Lonely hearts Club Band,” Pink Floyd’s “Piper at the Gates of Dawn” and The Beach Boys’ “Pet Sounds” are some of the most famous works associated with the chemical. The Grateful Dead’s “Dark Star” is another. Even harry Nilsson’s soundtrack for the children’s feature “The Point” was produced under the influence of Hoffman’s creation. Todd Rundgren, a late-comer to the psychedelic buffet, made 1973’s “A Wizard, A True Star” as an audio interpretation of a trip. Al Jourgensen claimed he dropped acid before mixing Ministry or any of his other myriad works, back in the day.

Far be it from this column to endorse the use of dangerous chemicals, but if you’ve ever tasted the music or watched the walls move, you have Hoffman to thank.

Hoffman deserves a spot in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame’s non-performer category, don’t you think?

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(Originally ran April 18)

It took me three visits to make my first purchase at Vinyl Fever.

Mind you, I had disposable income in my pocket and a wealth of choices at my fingertips.

I was simply overwhelmed. It was 1987 and I had just moved to town, and I’d never been in a record store as big and well-stocked as the Fever.

I can’t tell you what my first purchase there was, but I can assure you I’ve been back many times since.

I’ve also patronized Sound Exchange, Bananas, Asylum and a host of other great stores that sadly are no longer with us.

For all the cackling I like to do about the impending demise of the recording industry and the major labels, independent record stores are the good guys who are taking a hit in the digital music wars.

Sure, I like the convenience of downloading. But spending a few hours - and I can spend hours, easily - in a great record store is one of the great pleasures of my life.

Pointing and clicking just isn’t as satisfying as working my way down the aisles, flipping through the CDs or albums or 45s, weighing my options and pondering my choices.

Not to mention that independent record stores usually are staffed by music freaks just like me who can offer suggestions, steer me away from a questionable choice or just argue about bands and albums. You’re not going to get that at the mall or a huge, soulless mega store.

Vinyl Fever used to have a bumper sticker that read “We’re Not Afraid to Say It Sucks!” And they aren’t. Nor are the other stores mentioned above or most any other shop that proudly declares itself to be independent.

Independent record stores are where you find out about the bands the rest of the populace gets hip to in another year or so.

Saturday is Record Store Day, a chance for the music-buying troops to rally in support of our favorite emporiums and hangouts. Grab some cash and help keep this vital artery of the music lovers’ soul intact.

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One band hails from Atlanta and was playing new wave back when it really was new. The other lives in Brooklyn and jams on a mix of funk, jazz and grunge. But both feature members from the Tampa area and both are back here for concerts this weekend.

Jeff Calder made his first rock ‘n’ roll noises while growing up in Lakeland before moving to Atlanta and forming the Swimming Pool Q’s. The band’s 1981 debut, “The Deep End,” is one of the finest examples of twisted Southern sensibilities set to music that’s inventive yet accessible. The band, which also features vocalist Anne Richmond Boston split after 1989’s “World War Two Point Five” but reunited to record 2003’s “Royal Academy of Reality.”

The band played several memorable gigs in Tampa, including opening for the Police at Tampa Theatre, and at the Artists and Writers Ball in 1981 at the Cuban Club (pictured).

The Q’s return to Calder’s hometown Saturday for a concert billed as “Living by Night in the Land of Opportunity: Returning to Lakeland after 30 Years on the Road in the Music Business.” The Mudbreakers, featuring Charlie Souza of The New Tropics, and Take Five also are on the bill. The show takes place at the Polk Theatre, 127 S. Florida Ave. in Lakeland. Doors open at 6 and tickets are $22.50. Call (863) 682-7553.

Chroma drummer Alex Hayward is the son of Tampa’s longtime musical court jester Harry Hayward. He and bassist Adam Mantovani met at Adams Junior High School and played together in the ska band Majik Dirt. After graduating from Chamberlain High School, the two attended the University of North Florida, where they met guitarist Paul Piller. The trio moved to Philadelphia and then Brooklyn. They’ve been making inroads on the festival circuit and according to their MySpace site, they’ve backed George Clinton and Blues Traveler’s John Popper.

Chroma plays Sunday at New World Brewery, 1313 E. Eighth Ave. in Ybor City. Call 248-4969.

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(Originally ran April 11, 2008)

I would like to think that I am a reasonable man. There is, however, evidence to the contrary, mostly concerning music.

For a millisecond somewhere in the not-too-distant past, I thought that digital music would relieve me of some of my more compulsive music collecting habits.

You know, no album jackets to house in plastic sleeves, no broken jewel boxes to replace, that sort of thing.

And my ongoing shelving crisis is getting worse at a much slower rate.

But once a compulsive music organizer, always a compulsive music organizer it seems.

As with so many other things, I blame iTunes, which now displays album art, making my virtual collection so much more tempting to fuss over.

If iTunes can’t find the album’s cover, I search Amazon’s or All Music’s sites. If it’s not there, I go to Google. If I can’t find it there, I’m stuck with a generic sleeve.

I loathe those generic sleeves. Every time I flip through my virtual album stack I come across one or two, each one screaming FAILURE at the top of its lungs.

And then there’s iTunes’ endless multitude of cataloging quirks. Why does every hip-hop album with multiple guest stars get credited to “various artists”?

How did “Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers” wind up in the Compilations folder and why was it credited to Petty alone? Why are “Safe as Milk” and “Ice Cream for Crow” credited to Captain Beefheart & the Magic Band while “Trout Mask Replica” and “Lick My Decals Off, Baby” claim to be by Captain Beefheart AND the Magic Band?

Why do I need to - not want to, need to - fix all of this?

The sad fact of the matter is I enjoy it. It’s embarrassing, a little, that I get such peace of mind knowing my digital files are all housed in their proper folders, accompanied by the highest-resolution cover I could find.

I’m amazed I ever leave the house.

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(Originally ran April 4, 2008)

One of the first 45s I purchased with my own money was “Johnny B. Goode.”

Not Chuck Berry’s original single, which turns 50 years old this month, but a version by Buck Owens and the Buckaroos, taken from “Buck Owens in London.”

I bought it less for the song than because it was by Owens, then starring on “Hee Haw,” which I watched faithfully every week.

But it was my introduction to what might be rock ‘n’ roll’s quintessential song.

“Johnny B. Goode” is about the promise of rock ‘n’ roll, about loving the music and how it can change your life.

It’s about how rock ‘n’ roll can make a poor boy from nowhere a star; and, if you care to extrapolate, how rock ‘n’ roll can save a bored teenager from the stultifying sameness of suburbia, school and the like.

I think that’s how Lou Reed heard it. He wrote “Rock and Roll,” which is way more explicit about what music can mean: “Her life was saved by rock ‘n’ roll,” Reed sang.

Berry’s version is slyer, more of a nod and a wink than Reed’s wide-eyed adoration. But the message is the same.

“Johnny B. Goode” used to be a garage band litmus test. It was one of the first songs you played when you got together with friends and tried to make it through a song. It’s the first lick many guitarists ever learn.

In 1977, a recording of the song was launched aboard the Voyager spacecraft. It was part of a series of recordings representing Earth’s languages and cultures. Imagine some interplanetary being encountering Berry’s story of a country boy strummin’ to the rhythm that the drivers made - a quick and easy way to tell if they’re intelligent or not.

I’m not sure if this anniversary is going to get the sort of attention the Summer of Love got last year, or Woodstock is sure to get next year, but it should.

Every time a kid picks up a guitar for the first time and learns three chords, “Johnny B. Goode” lives again.

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(Originally ran March 28, 2008)

I keep intending to make a mix CD for my almost-5-year-old son.

It will have a bunch of songs he’s discovered through their inclusion in kid-friendly movies. Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song,” used in “Shrek the Third,” was a big hit around our house for a while. Hearing Malcolm sing “hammer of the gods” was one of my proudest moments as a parent.

I’ll also include other songs he’s happened along and shown some affection for: Yaz’s “Situation,” Motorhead’s “Ace of Spades” and Queen’s “We Are the Champions.”

His current favorite is “All I Want Is You” by Barry Louis Polisar, the first song on the “Juno” soundtrack. We hear it between four and five times on the way to school every morning. So that will undoubtedly make the cut as well.

And there will be some Ramones on there as well. Not “I Wanna Be Sedated” or “You’re Gonna Kill That Girl” or “Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue,” obviously, since I’m trying to be a responsible parent in my own stumbling way.

But I’ll definitely have some of the fun sing-along stuff like “Blitzkrieg Bop” and “Rockaway Beach” on there. “Oh Oh I Love Her So,” maybe. “Sheena Is a Punk Rocker” for sure.

And that’s what’s holding me up.

I’ve never played the Ramones for Malcolm and I’m worried about his reaction.

What if he doesn’t like it?

I’ll grant you this doesn’t rank very high on the scale of parental worries. But let’s face it, I make a living writing about pop music so trivialities probably matter more to me than to, say, a reasonable human being.

And if he doesn’t like the Ramones, how will we get to The Clash, Cheap Trick and The Who?

What if he one day decides he actually likes the watered-down post grunge, hollow nu-metal and pointless emo that fills the airwaves?

My wife and I decided early on to raise our kids to think for themselves. I wish I’d thought that one out a little more.

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(Originally ran March 21, 2008)

Rapper Rick Ross talks about dealing drugs prior to stardom in the recent issue of Rolling Stone (the one with Barack Obama on the cover with the headline “A New Hope,” the irony of which should be apparent to everyone but Rolling Stone).

Later, Ross talks about popping open bottles of champagne during his concerts. The interviewer asks Ross which is more satisfying, popping open champagne or popping off a few rounds.

Champagne, Ross answers, reasonably enough. “But you got to pop a few guns to pop a few bottles. That’s just the way it’s designed.”

That’s just the way it’s designed.

It’s not the statement itself that rattled me, but the nonchalance with which it was tossed off; that and Rolling Stone’s callow acceptance of violence as part of the hip-hop stereotype.

Questioning a rapper on his gunplay would seem like questioning a ‘70s rocker on his drug use or on-the-road sex life. Hey, man, it’s just one of the perks.

But it’s not. Where rockers constructed their own hedonistic fantasy worlds (the ones that make such good “Behind the Music” stories), rappers are talking about real-life violence with real-life victims. Only with the mainstreaming of gangster rap - and the mainstream’s refusal to question those messages or at least put them in context (as long as it sells and the bad words are bleeped out for the radio version) - that reality is being sold as a fantasy to an audience jonesing for the newest shock.

It’s like the Roman gladiator battles being played out in the projects, filmed for MTV and supplied with a hip-hop soundtrack.

So why not just cordon off the inner cities behind bullet-proof glass, install stadium seating and sell tickets to suburban voyeurs? Rappers can perform while the crowd watches young black men sling crack, jack cars and kill each other. Sure, you could stay home and watch it on TV, but nothing’s better than the live experience, right?

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Tampa duo Yo Majesty stomps on hip-hop cliches like so many cigarette butts. Out lesbians in a genre known for misogyny and homophobia, Shunda K and Jwl B spout intelligent, funny rhymes that are explicit enough to give Luke Campbell pause. I can’t print the three-word phrase that makes up the chorus of Yo Majesty’s party anthem “Club Action,” but, trust me, you’ll know it when you hear it. The sound tops a JJ Fad chassis with a crunk engine, gasses up with rocket fuel and puts the pedal to the floor.

Yo Majesty will make a special appearance tonight (March 28) at an Orpheum show spotlighting fresh underground MCs. Shunda will be performing a solo set and the lineup also includes Ghetto C, Bla’que Pop, Lord Drak, Jerzy, New Breed, Gonniez, Da Diamond, Y-Not, DJ Echo and more.

Doors open at 8 p.m. and the party rolls ‘til 3 a.m. The Orpheum is at 1902 Avenida Republica de Cuba (14th Street) in Ybor City. Admission is $10. Call (813) 248-9500.

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(Originally ran March 14)

Built to Spill sounded fine but seemed stuck in second gear early in its recent set at the State Theatre.

Then front man Doug Martsch announced a Brian Eno song and the band launched into “Third Uncle.”

The song’s propulsive rhythm lit a fire under the band and sent a surge of energy through the crowd. The three guitarists attacked their instruments, clawing at the strings by song’s end. The show began to soar.

Hearing a cover song is one of the joys of going to a concert. It’s a little bonus, a treat, and sometimes a reward for sitting through a so-so performance.

It also reveals something about the band, especially when the chosen tune is something off the group’s beaten path.

Covers were practically a given for 1980s college-radio acts. R.E.M. would remake Iggy Pop, Lou Gramm or Henry Mancini. The Replacements would try anything they could think of, depending on how drunk they were.

No Meat Puppets show was complete without a bludgeoning of Foghat’s version of “I Just Want to Make Love to You.” The Monkees’ “What Am I Doing Hanging ‘Round” got a surprisingly faithful reading by Dead Milkmen. Camper Van Beethoven would wig out on Pink Floyd’s “Interstellar Overdrive.”

Sometimes a cover reveals a lot about the audience, as in who likes it, who hates it and who doesn’t recognize it. “It’s Aerosmith!” I shouted to some younger and noticeably unimpressed friends while R.E.M. blazed through “Toys in the Attic” in 1985.

In 2002 it was Sleater-Kinney encoring with Bruce Springsteen’s “Promised Land” - I was one of about three in the crowd singing along.

Natalie Merchant’s version of Cheap Trick’s “Surrender” at a 1999 show is the only evidence I’ve encountered that she has a sense of humor.

And for all the times you’ve heard someone yell “Free Bird!” during a show, have you ever heard anyone cover it?

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Kimya Dawson is doing a typical mom chore, waiting for her car to be serviced at Jiffy Lube.

“When you’re gonna do a big trip you’ve gotta get greased up before you hit the desert,” Dawson says by cell phone from the aforementioned Jiffy Lube in Clairmont, Calif.

Dawson, traveling with her husband and their 19-month old daughter, Panda, isn’t on vacation. She’s heading to work.

Welcome to touring, Kimya-style. The singer-songwriter is well-known in alternative and anti-folk circles for her solo work as well as recordings with Moldy Peaches and Antsy Pants.

This tour may find her audience heavy with newcomers, though. Her music, solo and with her groups, dominated the soundtrack to “Juno.” The movie a hit, and so was the soundtrack, rising to No. 1 on The Billboard 200. 

“That’s a world that’s foreign to me,” Dawson says, “charts, numbers, sales. It’s bizarre. Weird.”

She still doesn’t know what, if anything, the success of “Juno” will mean for her as a performer.

“We’ll find out this trip, I guess,” Dawson says. “I’ve always had a diverse listening audience. There has always been a lot of different kinds of people coming out to the shows. There just haven’t been so many of them.”

Dawson’s songs can run the gamut from wacky to poignant to pointed, as often as not within the same song.

“My songs are all over the place,” she says. “Some are more stream-of consciousness than a direct message. Some of it’s more straightforward and some is more along the lines of lazy confessions.

“There are different ways my head makes songs,” she says. “I think my newer stuff is more to the point.”

Daughter Panda is a primary inspiration for an upcoming Dawson release, a children’s record called “Alphabutt.”

“Some of the songs I wrote hanging out with her” Dawson says. “Her name is mentioned in four of them. She sings and plays piano on the album. There are tons of kids on the record.”

Dawson’s parents ran a day-care center in their home, and she started college with a focus on working with kids before music became her focus.

“That was one of the hardest things about doing music was I was used to having long-term interactions with children,” Dawson says. “Working with kids you have to make a big commitment.

Much as Dawson loves children, her daughter shouldn’t expect a new brother or sister anytime soon.

“I don’t want to cut into my daughter’s time to be the baby,” Dawson says.

Dawson and Band of Horses play Saturday at Cuban Club in Ybor City. The show is presented by Skatepark of Tampa.

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Soul music reached a peak of sophistication in the early 1970s. It drew boldly from rock, jazz and symphonic works as well as the genre’s bedrock of gospel and blues. Lyrics addressed social ills with a boldness that would have been unthinkable even in the late ‘60s.

Kenny Gamble and Leon Huff were two of the most prestigious and prolific creators of the period. The pair wrote and produced hits for the O’Jays, Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes, Billy Paul, The Three Degrees and many more. They released them on their own Philadelphia International label, which for a few years had the Midas touch.

Two recently released compilations cover PI’s glory years - one has the biggest hits, the other songs that fell between the cracks.

“The Sound of Philadelphia: Gamble & Huff’s Greatest Hits” is a 14-track best-of that reads like a mid-’70s Top 10 chart: “Love Train,” “Back Stabbers,” “If You Don’t Know Me By Now,” “T.S.O.P.,” “When Will I See You Again,” “Ain’t No Stoppin’ Us Now,” “You’ll Never Find Another Love Like Mine” - it’s a can’t miss collection.

But it just skims the surface of Gamble-Huff’s catalog and offers no essays or background information. Fine if you’re on a budget, but the O’Jays, Paul, Melvin and more put out great albums of their own, and 1997’s “The Philly Sound 1966-1976: Kenny Gamble And Leon Huff” three-cd box set offers a far more comprehensive look.

Even owners of that now-out of print release will want to seek out “Conquer the World: The Lost Soul of Philadelphia International Records.”

The disc contains 16 tracks that might stump even the most avid of soul fanatics. Admittedly there’s nothing here that would give Gamble and Huff’s best a run for the money, but there are plenty of gems, including Bunny Sigler “Theme for “Five Fingers of Death"," Ruth McFadden’s assertive “Ghetto Woman Parts 1 & 2” and the atypical comedy track “Ruby’s Surprise Party” by, naturally, Ruby & the Party Gang.

Add to that Sigler and Dee Dee Sharp’s “Conquer the World Together,” and Yellow Sunshine’s eponymous slice of soul psychedelia and you have a fine, fun collection of rare R&B.

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Originally ran March 7

First off, I had no idea there were so many magazines aimed specifically at pregnant women. But there are, and the latest issues of every one of them seem to be lying around my house these days.

Second, I had no idea anyone made Ramones maternity T-shirts, but there it was in an ad in one of those magazines.

I certainly support the rights of pregnant women and anyone else to wear T-shirts bearing the likenesses of their favorite bands.

And I’m sure being a Ramones fan wasn’t required of the model who posed for the ad.

But it reminded me of a recent Rolling Stone article about how popular Ramones merchandise is. More popular than the band ever was, apparently.

People know the name even if they don’t know the music. Retro cool is just a visit to Hot Topic away.

Now it is just a hunk of cotton with some text and illustrations on it. But sporting a band T implies a personal connection to the performer and/or the music, doesn’t it?

Actual embarrassing conversation from ninth grade involving a Led Zeppelin T-shirt:

Really Cute Cool Girl I had a crush on: “Wow! Cool shirt!”

Me: “Thanks!”

Really Cute Cool Girl: “When did you see Zeppelin?!”

Me: “I didn’t. I ordered the T-shirt from the back of Circus magazine.”

Really Cute Cool Girl: “Oh. Um. Nice shirt.”

The rules were stricter then. You wore the T-shirt, you had a concert story to tell.

By the ‘80s, though, Misfits T-shirts were de rigueur for Metallica fans, thanks to James Hetfield’s endorsement of Glenn Danzig’s old crew. If the Misfits sold half the records they had T-shirts, they’d be bigger than Coldplay.

By the ‘00s, Jennifer Aniston was wearing an MC5 T-shirt on “Friends,” the same show that, a few seasons before, had the gang all a-dither over a Hootie & the Blowfish concert.

Rachel? “Kick Out the Jams”? That’s just false advertising.

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Originally ran Feb. 29

Either I got there early or the show was behind schedule, I can’t remember which.

I was at South by Southwest in Austin, Texas, trying to catch as much music as possible. The venue was a medium-sized courtyard and I’d come to see The Negro Problem, a provocative and clever Los Angeles pop band that never got its due.

But a middle-aged man accompanying himself on acoustic guitar obviously was in the middle of his set. I wasn’t in the mood for a folkie but there was something familiar about his music.

He finished to polite applause and then introduced his next number. “Here’s a song I wrote for The Grass Roots.”

He went into “Where Were You When I Needed You” and I realized I was watching P.F. Sloan, one of the most outstanding songwriters of the 1960s.

Among his credits, mostly with songwriting partner Steve Barri: “Eve of Destruction” by Barry McGuire, “Secret Agent Man” by Johnny Rivers and “Take Me for What I’m Worth” by The Searchers.

Sure, his renditions were bare-bones, but there was something special about hearing those songs played by their creator.

Dan Penn is another writer whose songs will be instantly familiar to lovers of ‘60s music, particularly Southern soul.

“Do Right Woman, Do Right Man” (Aretha Franklin), “I’m Your Puppet” (James and Bobby Purify), “The Dark End of the Street” (James Carr) and “Cry Like a Baby” (The Box Tops) are just a few of the tunes he wrote, mostly with Spooner Oldham and Chips Moman.

Listener-supported radio station WMNF, 88.5 FM, and the Suncoast Blues Society are bringing Penn to St. Petersburg for a show Saturday at The Palladium, 253 Fifth Ave. N.

It’s a rare chance to hear some amazing songs directly from their source.

Call the Palladium, (727) 822-3590, or WMNF, (813) 238-8001, for more information.

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I’ll avoid cliches involving rain or pouring but this week is overflowing with live music worth leaving the house for.

Tonight, Built to Spill is at the State, while Giddy-Up, Helicopter! is at Push Ultra Lounge, both in St. Petersburg.

Friday, Alejandro Escovedo is at The Palladium in St. Petersburg, a WMNF show. Tampa Theatre gets in the act with screenings of “Control” at 7:30 and 10 p.m. It’s director Anton Corbjin’s feature about Joy Division and its doomed singer, Ian Curtis.

Saturday brings old school soul to Skipper’s Smokenouse in Tampa when WMNF presents Charles Walker & the Dynamites. Alt-rock greats Matt Pond PA are at New World Brewery along with Tampa’s Mouse Fire. WiLD Splash brings Rick Ross, Wyclef Jean, Pitbulll and others to Ford Amphitheatre. Egyptology-obsessed metalists Nile storm the State Theatre.

Sunday, it’s The Roots, one of if not the best live act around, at Jannus Landing in St. Petersburg. If more metal is what you need, check out Black Cobra at Transitions Art Gallery at Skatepark of Tampa.

Monday, Pat Metheny plays a trio gig with bassist Christian McBride and drumerer Antonio Sanchez at Tampa Theatre.

Tuesday you’ll have to decide between Ani DiFranco at Tampa Theatre or They Might Be Giants at Jannus. Wednesday at Jannus it’s the “Take Action Tour” with Every Time I Die, The Bled, From First to Last and more. Thursday, chill at Push Ultra Lounge with Tribal Style and Poetry ‘n Lotion.

Can’t find something in there that appeals to you? Dang, cuz, you’re picky.

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