ager Utah concertgoers suffering from a drought in the way of good shows have much to look forward to in the month of March. A quintet of up-and-comers playing at In The Venue throughout the month promises a little something for everyone— that is, if everyone is into post-punk-emo-garage-rock sung by whiny boys in girls’ jeans.

On March 9, relatively new scenesters The Early November will be playing at In The Venue… er… Bricks… er… same thing, I guess, with Hey Mercedes, Spitalfield and Limbeck.

Honestly, what the hell is wrong with Utah club owners? College kids change their minds fewer times about their majors than these morons do about the names of their establishments. Get a grip.

The Early November is decent enough— its music is just the right thing to lull you into a suicidal state of relationship-induced depression as you’re falling asleep. Good stuff.

Hey Mercedes ought to be headlining this tour, though, because the band has been around longer than any of the other bands and has a sound that is unique— an attribute that unfortunately can’t be applied to all the bands on the lineup. Its most recent album, Lose Control, was mediocre, but the one before it, Every Night Fireworks, is almost desert-island-caliber stuff. Hey Mercedes’ live shows are something to see, so don’t miss it.

Death Cab for Cutie—often better known as the singer from The Postal Service with some dudes playing backup— comes to town on March 22 in support of its newest album, Transatlanticism,and promises to bring with it some songs— gasp!— about difficult long-distance relationships.

Death Cab ain’t bad, though. Listeners just need to open up their tear ducts and ears to lead singer Ben Gibbard’s breathy, distant voice and eloquent lyrics. As far as woozy sad-asses go (of which this reporter may or may not be one), Gibbard is all right.

Personally, I hated on Death Cab for a pretty long time until I heard The Postal Service’s Give Up and ditched a small portion of my pretention.

Although songs from the album can be seen making guest appearances on Blink-182’s iTunes celebrity playlist, the tracks are innovative, upbeat and 808-style catchy. The Postal Service is just Gibbard and beat-master Jimmy Tamborello (who isn’t in Death Cab) and though fans might be tempted to scream for cuts like “The District Sleeps Alone Tonight,” they’d be ill-advised to do so—Death Cab is notoriously pissed off about always hearing concertgoers cheer for its front man’s side project.

Hey Mercedes! Hey! Can you hear me, Mercedes? Do you like the Emo, Mercedes? Hey!

Best advice is to open your head and realize that the members of Death Cab present played subject matter in a not-so-played fashion, and therefore are legitimate musicians. Auspicious guitar riffs and melodic breakdowns are to be expected and fawned over.

Although this is a March concert preview, April is kind of like March, right? I mean, it comes, like, right after it…I’m not sure which one of them comes in like a lion and out like a lamb.

Three worthwhile shows will kick off the month of showers at In The Venue for those slacker music aficionados who didn’t manage to get their asses out of bed during the entire month of March.

The indie stalwarts of The Juliana Theory come through town on April 3, Something Corporate (the name used to be ironic, but now it’s just tragically descriptive) on the fourth and the best band yet to be mentioned in this preview— Saves the Day— on the 12th.

Saves the Day’s lead singer and lyricist, Chris Connelly, has been a dorky teenage demigod since ’98, and the band’s sound keeps maturing with time, just like a good wine.

Connelly’s band is co-headlining its tour with Grandaddy— a seemingly odd coupling, as the latter group is more prone toward lo-fi intergalactic melodies than any traces of quirky post-punk breakdowns.

However, when considering the dream-like tone of Save the Day’s newest release, In Reverie, the odd matching becomes almost sublime. Hopefully, the 16-year-old vegans turned 20-something songsters of Saves the Day will mesh well with the established and experimental sound produced by the members of Grandaddy.

Regardless of which of the myriad diverse (cough, cough) shows at In The Venue you decide to shell out your $8 to $20 for, remember that the musicians on stage are sensitive, sensitive artists— cry with them, don’t laugh at them.
eryn@red-mag.com