Arts and CultureSan Francisco

Cure the Valentine Blues with Smith Westerns Tonight at Amoeba


Which one is Smith?

Got those VD blues (either type)? Cheer yourself up with the dreamy, twinkly, head-noddable pop-rock tunes of Smith Westerns. Pitchfork loves this year’s sophomore effort, Dye It Blonde, from increasingly prolific label Fat Possum, and Pitchfork is never wrong. And since you are unemployed or were busy watching the craptasm that is the modern-day Grammys, you didn’t go the band’s $12 show last night at Bottom of the Hill. So you should totally to its FREE show at San Francisco’s Amoeba tonight (Monday).

If you like shimmies, joyous garage glam, “Champagne Supernova,” and jumping up and down (don’t hurt yourself), Smith Westerns is for you and probably your friends. In fact, this band’s face-rocking abilities won them a spot on LA Weekly‘s “Top 10 Bands That Should Have Broken Up Instead of the White Stripes.” If a split were in the Smith Westerns’ future, those crazy kids would go out on top and avoid the almost inevitable decline that once-formidable acts such as KISS and the Rolling Stones have suffered. So go get your white-kid dance on, and impress/land a date. You do remember it’s Valentine’s Day, right?

Feeling better? That won’t last: The members started playing together in 2007 — while they were in high school — and have already toured the U.S. and Europe with MGMT, Florence and the Machine, and others. So if there were ever a time to feel like your whole life has amounted to nothing but a failing liver and that one horrendous first-date story, this would be it. You’ll also be in a record store, so pick up Rick Astley‘s smash release, Body & Soul (1993), on your way out so that you can sleep tonight.

Smith Westerns at Amoeba

1855 Haight St. at Stanyan [Haight-Ashbury]

Monday, February 14, 6-7pm


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Sarah M. Smart - Red-Light Special

Sarah M. Smart - Red-Light Special

Sarah M. Smart was summoned into being on a distant ice cream planet
through an unholy union of Two-Buck Chuck and unicorns. They sent her to Indianapolis and then the University of Missouri's School of Journalism
to spread peace and big hair. Perpetually in mourning for the comma, she
has worked for a variety of print media, including Indianapolis
, Global Journalist, and Vox. Since moving
to San Francisco for the booming dumpster-diving scene, she has been an
online operative for such fine folks as , Neo-Factory, and
Academy of Art University. After a day of cat-feeding, hat-making,
dog-walking, vegan baking, and daydreaming about marrying rich, all she
wants is a margarita as big as her face.