Best Band at the Worst Time 2005 | Detective Jabsco | Best of Denver® | Best Restaurants, Bars, Clubs, Music and Stores in Denver | Westword
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Timing, they say, is everything. Which is why Detective Jabsco may be the most unfortunate band in Denver. The outfit's music is lacking absolutely nothing: Impassioned, concise, soulful and catchy as hell, it's a welcome lungful of fresh air. So what's the catch? The style is straight-up ska-core circa 1995, perhaps the uncoolest thing you could possibly be playing in today's post-punk-glitch-crunk-garage-emo-indie atmosphere. With the recent rise of "Ska Is Dead" tours and buzz bands like Dogs Die in Hot Cars flirting with that skank-heavy upbeat, Detective Jabsco shouldn't have to wait long for a full-blown ska revival -- and the attention it deserves.

As fitting at a basement show as it is under the disco ball, the music of Constellations is a protean thing. While clearly drawing from many of the same sources that fuel the current dance-punk lemming march, the group molds jarring guitars, pixilated noise and logarithmic beats into a much more slippery sound. Its stunning debut, Sistering, careens between laptop and agitprop, rattling vertebrae even as it leaks a chilly futurism; somewhere in the middle, singer Zak Brown warbles like Jello Biafra drunk-dialing Morrissey. Trying to calculate Constellations' arc through the cosmos would be a crapshoot, but one thing is certain: It's a band with a luminous future.

A scant year and a half ago, Gann Matthews resembled nothing so much as an unplugged disciple of Thom Yorke and Isaac Brock. What a difference a few months make. The young troubadour has swiftly graduated from shaky-throated emulation to sure-footed maturity, trading in indie pallor for a rich, ruddy rootsiness that teems with guts and depth. His debut disc, The Thin Line, is a dexterous exercise in classic folk/pop syntax that's as candid as is it crafted. Just 23, Gann Matthews is already at the head of Denver's singer-songwriter herd. Give him a couple more years; he'll be unstoppable.

Armed with just an acoustic guitar and a gorgeous, angelic voice that alternately recalls Gillian Welch, Rosie Thomas and Paula Cole, Judith Avers could literally sing the classified ads and still be positively riveting. Fortunately, that won't be necessary: Avers is equally adept and compelling as a storyteller, crafting heartrending tales steeped in both hopefulness and despair. Although she performs mostly at area coffeehouses and sports bars, in a just world, Avers would play to standing-room-only crowds. With talent like hers, it won't be long.

Comics that turn up for the Squire Lounge's Comedy Night want to win the $25 bar tab that's awarded for best performance each week. But it's not the booze they're after, and it ain't the glory; other venues are far more lucrative and offer way better exposure. No, Colorado comics know that if you can kill on Colfax, you can kill anywhere. And between the heckling of incoherent drunks, the abrasiveness of hipsters playing shuffleboard, and the steely gaze of a room full of jaded comedians, the anything-goes night offers a real challenge. First-time performers need not fear, though: The Squire, while difficult, is a good spot to cut your comedic teeth. Afterward, you'll be promptly belittled from the stage, regardless of the quality of your set. Welcome to the club.

With an elevated stage surrounded by vintage vinyl, Bender's 13th Avenue Tavern is the best place to experience bar culture's most self-indulgent pastime. New Wave/Indie Karaoke Night -- hosted Tuesday and Thursday nights by ebullient wiseacre Keith Houston and his lovely assistant, Laura Benson -- welcomes seasoned hams and budding exhibitionists alike to wrap their pipes around a tune or twelve. Whether you're drunk enough to take on Sinatra or the Sex Pistols (both versions of "My Way" are available), or feel like massacring Morrissey, the eclectic song selection covers everything from Aqua to the Zombies. There's even a psychiatrist's couch available under the spotlight for more introspective numbers like "The Star-Spangled Banner" or Pat Boone's "Speedy Gonzalez." Sing out.

Courtesy of La Rumba
On Saturday nights, salsa virgins and sexy pros go hand in hand on the dance floor at La Rumba, the stylish Golden Triangle staple that's become one of Latino Denver's top weekend destinations. Rookies can arrive early for a quick primer before the main event: The club offers free lessons, during which buzzed boys and girls are split up like kids at a junior high dance until the instructor unleashes them. Later, crowds cram the large floor for an energetic evening of hot salsa. Although most of the action takes place under the disco ball, patrons can slip to the front room for some bilingual chit-chat. Bailemos!

Launched in June 2001 by DJs Michael Trundle, Tyler Jacobson and Tim Cook, aka the Denver 3, Lipgloss has grown from a once-a-month Monday-night shindig into the best club night in town. Since relocating from 60 South to La Rumba last Spring, Lipgloss draws the crowds with a laid-back, unpretentious vibe, an expansive playlist and guest DJs; Carlos D from Interpol was among the luminaries who took over the tables last year. These days, it's not uncommon to see a line down the block on Friday nights. For a measly five-dollar cover, it's well worth the wait.

Off the Wall is a glorious celebration of all things '80s, without the shlocky retreads that get played ad nauseam. The hump-day affair is helmed by Westword's own Jason Heller and DJ Al from the Maybellines. The pair's deep old-school cuts will have you cabbage-patching before you can say OMD. So whether you came of age during Reaganomics or just witnessed it through the lens of John Hughes, Off the Wall is just that -- especially when it comes to unearthing the best and (worst) music of that era.

The space at 60 S. Broadway has weathered many incarnations recently, including 60 South and the short-lived Southpark Tavern. Viable as neither a lesbian club nor a sports bar, it was transformed last year into the Cherry Pit. The format this time? Rock venue. Strangely, the room finally feels like it's found its true identity. While all manner of homegrown punk and metal acts have crossed the Pit stage recently, the dance floor is still intact and hosts Disintegration, a goth/industrial soiree, every Saturday. The layout is cozy and the sound impeccable. Whether or not the Cherry Pit can stick it out, for now it's a pretty sweet place.

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