Their 15 minutes of fame on prime-time television ended in ignominy rather

than glory, but the members of the L.A. quintet Rocket are neither broken nor bowed. In fact,

they regard their short time on Fox TV’s “The

Next Great American Band” — an “American Idol”-like show that mercifully ends Friday

— as marketing they could not have bought.

“What better way to promote our

band?” singer Lauren White says. “We have no regrets whatsoever.” Adds guitarist Lauren

Clark: “For us to be onstage with the lights and all those screaming people — I couldn’t

even believe it was happening to this little local band we put together before I could

even play guitar.”

Indeed, Rocket began before its members were musicians,

with White, Clark and another friend joking to Teenacide Records honcho Jim Freek in the

Spaceland parking lot one night in 2005 that they were “in a band.”

Freek

made it so. The women recorded a song for a compilation CD, with Freek playing most of

the instruments. "We had so much fun, we said, ‘Jim, why don’t we do a covers

record?’" White says. "We didn’t know what we were doing, or what we were in

for, and we certainly didn’t know it would become so serious."

The

covers EP sold out, and Rocket played its first proper gig at the Viper Room in

2005.

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Just in time to service your holiday malaise, two of my favorite DJ collectives are

conspiring to set sadness to music tonight at the downtown bar La Cita.

Give Up — the seasonal club night initiated by the DJ collective Dublab and manned the past several years by Mark

"Frosty" McNeill and Jimmy Tamborello — gets back into its wintry spirit as

DJs spin depressing songs on the bar’s back patio. It’s described as "a deeply

depressing disc sob session." Inside the bar, Part Time Punks’ Michael Stock and others will

be hosting "A Sad, Slow Dance Party," promising "all slow dancing, all

night long."

There’s no cover. Tears start to flow at 9 p.m.

Photo of DJ Frosty (from 2005) by Kevin Bronson/LAT

Happier choices for Tuesday, Dec. 18

Pop sextet Castledoor brings its

sublime tunes to Boardner’s in the final monthly show of the year presented by Radio Free Silver Lake. The Flying Tourbillon Orchestra

and Frankel are also playing the

18-and-older show, which is free. … Mighty Six Ninety and Io Echo rock the Troubadour. … Oliver Future continues its Tuesday

residency at the Viper Room. … The

Monolators head a good local bill at the Scene. … And John Gold performs at Bordello.

The obituary this morning says Dan Fogelberg helped "define soft rock," but

that sounds kind of flaccid compared to what the singer-songwriter, who died Sunday at

age 56, meant to a bunch of kids in the working-class neighborhoods of Peoria, Ill., in

the early 1970s.

Fogelberg graduated from Woodruff High School the year before I got there, leaving

behind some stories of a rock band called the Coachmen (I actually owned the 45 at one

point — oh, where did it go?) and the occasional rumor he’d gone off to California, a

place that seemed so distant from our Midwestern factory town as to be a mirage. Not

many of us had California dreams then; we’d do well to graduate high school and get on

at Caterpillar Tractor Co. (which accounted for something like 1 in 5 paychecks in our

city in those days). If we were really lucky, we’d go to college.

In the fall of my junior year, "Home Free" arrived, and we were mesmerized.

Fogelberg’s debut album — a beautifully orchestrated bouquet of ballads that veered

toward what we now would call alt-country — took his alma mater by storm. It christened

the tape player in my first car; it was played endlessly at basement parties from Grand

View Drive to the lower East Bluff. I’m pretty sure there isn’t a song in my collection

I’ve played over the years more than that second track, "Stars."

Fogelberg was our Jackson Browne, a romantic who shared our roots and who had the

courage to strike out in service of his poetry. As I trudged through the snow delivering

my Peoria Journal Stars every morning, that was a pretty important symbol.

I always blanched at, but ultimately forgave, the arch sentimentality that seemingly

oppressive production brought to Fogelberg’s later albums. He had earned the right to

pursue whatever vision struck him. When my brother and I took in a Fogelberg show a few

years ago in Anaheim, it wasn’t so much for musical nostalgia as it was a thank-you.

In one subtle but important way, Dan Fogelberg was the leader of our band.

In the pile of holly-jolly cash-ins on my desk, one stands out: “The Elliott Yamin Holiday Collection.” Oy vey! The emblematic Nice Jewish Boy of “American Idol” just couldn’t resist putting on that Santa hat and getting in the Christmas mood. And exclusively for Target!

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This blog has been under the weather most of this week, and it had nothing to do with

either of the sets I caught on Monday night — the Mezzanine Owls playing LA Weekly’s Click

Hear show with a bunch of other good bands at the El Rey [better photos here], and then the

Movies finishing up Radio Free Silver Lake’s benefit for Huntington’s Disease at

Safari Sam’s.

Both bands played a lot of new material, strong stuff at that,

off EPs they plan to release in the new year. C’mon down, 2008.

The rest of

the week was full of cold remedies and regret:

– I did not get a chance to

say a proper goodbye to Kiss or

Kill, the weekly club night that ended Wednesday after five years. The night called

many venues home, and the small and vibrant scene created by its promoters was as

unpretentious as straight ahead rock ‘n’ roll could be. I will point out that one of the

stalwart Kiss or Kill bands, Bang Sugar

Bang, released a new album this fall that didn’t find its way to me until recently.

"Victory Gin" is a healthy dose of sharp boy-girl pop-punk, maybe a  bit

more serious than their earlier efforts but still the kind of tunes than work its title

beverage as a chaser.

– I am trying to rally in time for Fold’s Sweater Party tonight at the Crash Mansion. The Deadly Syndrome lead a parade of

bands at the benefit (for Doctors Without Borders) that includes  Eskimohunter, the

Happy Hollows, the Mae Shi and the Pity Party.

– Somebody emailed to tell me

I really missed the boat by missing these guys. But isn’t glam just

the new slapstick? The band has one more L.A. date, Tuesday at the Key Club.

– Pitchfork has heaped some praise on local underground favorites Health, tabbing its video for

"Heaven" as one of the site’s top 50 of the year. The song ought to be bumper music for a sports TV

show, sure, but a great video? Somebody please explain. Here it is:

– Speaking of videos, Liz McGrath — the visual artist-turned-Miss Derringer frontwoman — will debut

a 3D video for the band’s song "Black Tears" on Saturday night when her new

installation, "The Incurable Disorder," opens at the Billy Shire Gallery in

Culver City. The song is hauntingly good; here’s a preview of the

video (not in 3D — has the Internet figured that out yet?).

Photo of

Mezzanine Owls’ Jack Burnside by Kevin Bronson / LAT.

More weekend music

choices, and some fun end-of-the-year lists, here.

So which member of the Rolling Stones do you think of when you hear the terms “spooky ancient relic” and “dug up from a shallow grave”? Yeah, us, too. But actually, it turns out Bill Wyman is the right answer. The retired Stones bassist (who just played with his band, the Rhythm Kings, at the Ahmet Ertegun tribute in London) is quite the amateur archaeologist or, as he describes himself, a “history detective,” which we think means he wears a deerstalker cap, puffs on a curved pipe and randomly shouts “Elementary, my dear Jagger!”

Wyman started getting his hands dirty back in 1968 when he bought a house in Suffolk and stumbled on fragments of past cultures on the grounds. Through the years he’s dug up more than 300 coins as well as his most precious find, an 18th century ring bearing the seal of John Weniave, the High Sheriff of Suffolk, who, coincidently, was a big fan of the Stones back in their Crawdaddy Club days. Anyway, Wyman has been frustrated through the years with balky (and bulky) metal detectors so he designed his own signed special edition detector, which costs 125 pounds (U.K.). In his sales pitch he says: “Metal detecting is not just for anoraks or eccentrics.” Well, who can argue with that?

–Geoff Boucher

It’s a bit of a slow one this week with a few big-ish names in rock and things rock-like playing unusual venues. To wit, Foo Fighters will appear at the Forum on March 5 (get your tickets Saturday), Lenny Kravitz will play the Santa Monica Civic on Jan. 17 (Saturday), and Ryan Adams will hit UCLA’s Royce Hall Jan. 31 (on sale now) with Steve Earle following him to Westwood on March 25 (Saturday).

As for this week’s winner, no single act really takes the cake. So let’s give it to the venerable old El Rey Theatre for booking a slew of good artists this week, including Hüsker Dü’s Bob Mould, who’s appearing March 25 (pick up tickets on Saturday), electro-pop band Hot Chip, slated for Feb. 4, and the moodily rocking Raveonettes, scheduled for March 4 (both on sale now).

-Liam Gowing

If you want something to do tonight, how about Vice Magazine and Scion’s house party with TTC at the Viper Room at 10 p.m? The crazy French house crew gets points for the name of their members alone: Teki Latex, Tido Berman, Cuizinier, Orgasmic, Para One and Tacteel. Did we mention that one of their songs borrows heavily from “The Hokey Pokey”? Now that’s house music. They want you to rsvp but honestly, if you just pull on some super-cool outfit that only some Kanye stylist could’ve thought up, they ought to just let you in. But that’s just our opinion.

–Margaret Wappler

itunes announced today that Swedish pop trio Peter Bjorn and John’s “Young Folks” is the 2007 “Song of the Year.” Great. Now can we finally stop playing this song that we were officially sick of in 2006? And no, we don’t need any more covers. I’m talking to you, Kanye, Hypercrush, Shugo Tokumaru and every wannabe beatmaker with a sampler. In 2008, let’s ditch all handclaps, whistles and get back to some cowbell, please, for the love of god!

–Charlie Amter

The true believers over at Greg Kot’s blog are all kinds of worked up about Wilco’s recent announcement to play what’s been dubbed “The Complete Wilco” over five nights at the Riviera Theater in Chicago. While at first glance this seems like a pretty nice if familiar gimmick to dig deep into the backcatalog over a lengthy run of shows — Pearl Jam did something similar over a three-night stand in Massachusetts — upon closer examination its revealed that the five nights will span everything Wilco has released. That’s right, everything from the twangy “Jeff Tweedy & The Heartbreakers” stomp of A.M. to the Grateful Dead-lite of Sky Blue Sky and all the Mermaid Avenues in between (that’s all said with the utmost affection, honestly– there are few Wilco geeks out there more geeked-up about this than I am).

Packages go onsale for the complete run of shows tomorrow (only $180 with service charge, or roughly 1/8 of a Miley Cyrus ticket) , with single show sales to follow–that is, should there be any left once Wilco’s already rabid Chicagoland fanbase gets finished gorging themselves. Is it too much to ask for a nice DVD release of the shows, or maybe a strictly-for-the-hardcore boxed set released only through the band’s site? (We’ll ‘pay what we want,’ honest.) Wait — does this sound like a good idea or some sandalwood-scented fantasy you’d usually read about on an alt.stringcheese.incident bit-torrent page? Hmmm.

– Chris Barton