Many artists embrace the raw side of rock 'n' roll, but few can translate it into an unstoppable force hell-bent on creating a party that will not end until the last bit of sweat is wrung from your brow. Quintron is one of those translators.

On Thursday night, Gregory Alan Isakov performed a well-attended show at the Old Rock House. Behind him stood a projected, sepia-tinged, photo depicting a rural youth listening intently to a large, conical, medieval-looking, horn-shaped hearing device.

Down the stairs and past the bar, a screen on the Duck Room stage displayed a jerky psychedelic image resembling a collage of contorted faces.

St. Louis music fans of all stripes gathered at the City Museum for Midwest Mayhem on Thursday evening to celebrate with the city's independent radio station, 88.1 KDHX.

Thousands of music fans made their way to the "land of the delta blues" last weekend for the annual Beale Street Music Festival. This was my fifth time attending the long-running fest, part of the city's month-long Memphis in May celebration in Tom Lee Park on the banks of the Mississippi River.

On Tuesday night, the Fray sold out the Pageant with ease. The fans struck out from every borough of St. Louis to see the spectacle and feel pop-rock piano music splash over them. Did someone order a Rolling Rock? No? Damn, wrong band.

The lone-man outfit Thankful Tree took the Off Broadway stage after 9 p.m. with looping swells of guitar and brash puffs of harmonica to build the sonic backbones.

The opening act went on an hour later than announced; presumably waiting for the Cinco de Mayo crowd to bring their fiesta to the Old Rock House with them. Once the party got started though, there was funk for all.

Last night, St. Louis hosted Portugal. The Man on its first major headlining tour. But this was no normal tour. Its sponsor, Jägermeister, was everywhere, complete with a DJ spinning for the set changes and the all-important Jäger girls strutting about the Pageant in tight leather, handing out freebies and other swag.

Louder than sirens, louder than bells: An enthralled crowd worshipped at the altar of Florence + the Machine in the drizzly Sunday twilight.

St. Louis music fans showed true dedication last night as heavy rain, hail, lightning and damaging winds couldn't keep a solid crowd away from the Old Rock House to see legendary Texas-based singer and songwriter Ray Wylie Hubbard.

Mike Ness seems tired, or maybe just bored. I saw him about this time last year at the Pageant and walked away thinking I had seen one of the greatest shows. But after last night's Social Distortion show at Pop's, I cruised back home over the bridge a little more than underwhelmed.

Part John Prine, part Dylan, part lonely cowboy swilling whiskey out on a moonlit prairie, Jeffrey Foucault has a chameleonic sound. This quality enhances the troubadour's grace and emboldens the emotional power of the music.

I'm still blown away by this show. In fact, I'm not even here. I'm not even typing this. I'm still standing at the Firebird, trapped in the world of Baroness, a world stark and desolate, lavish and beautiful.

There are a million tired clichés that can be used to describe singer-songwriters. Tuesday evening at the Old Rock House Dar Williams put on a performance that was neither tired nor clichéd.

The Mad Titans did their share to justify opening for the extravagant Mucca Pazza at the Firebird on Friday night, but it wasn't easy.

What happens when you mix one part Spiritualized, equal parts Pavement and Thurston Moore, a dash of late-'90s college radio and shake with a trumpet? Just another night at Off Broadway, where assorted and sundry independent music shook the rafters courtesy of Conduits, Cymbals Eat Guitars, and headliners Cursive.

To embark on a solo career after being part of a successful group for a number of years is a daunting task. Nevertheless, Sara Watkins seems to be making a smooth transition.

Bo and the Locomotive started the night off at the Gramophone with a swinging, mostly instrumental tune. From song one, I realized that the tall, guitar-wielding Bo Bulawsky and his band aren't into rushing a melody.

Wednesday night started rough for the Cowboy Junkies. Lead singer Margo Timmins was recovering from a week-long illness, pulling away from the microphone to quietly cough while sipping mug after mug of hot tea.

Blame belated Tax Day, the Cardinals home game or Willie Nelson's set at the Pageant for the small crowd at the Old Rock House for Los Angeles garage punk/bluesman Hanni El Khatib.

Don't let the oversize Texas flag hanging behind the stage or the unfortunate Toby Keith collaboration fool you. Willie Nelson is not simply a country artist.

As a heavy rain fell on St. Louis, two bands showered fans at the Gramophone with punchy, Memphis-style grooves at a KDHX-welcomed event.

Music is one of those rare things that is understood by everyone, regardless of location or language spoken. Guitar Wolf gave evidence in favor of that statement, and a PSA for hearing protection, Thursday night at the Firebird.

It could have happened in any dimly-lit bar or club over the past 33 years. Mission of Burma, the iconic post-punk power trio from Boston, could have played any number of venues that have come and gone in St. Louis, but they didn't. In that sense, their show at the Firebird last night was indeed historic.