It always seemed more than a coincidence that the name "Don Cornelius" rang with echoes of "Don Corleone." Sure, Corleone was a fictional mob boss, while Cornelius was the real-life host of Soul Train. And, yes, Corleone sat in a dim room dotted with cigar boxes and leather furniture, while Cornelius had a neon soundstage filled with young people bouncing to the newest dance music.

^{"This day and age, you better be able to put on a great live show because it's really one of the ways you're going to make a name for yourself." CLICK FOR MORE PHOTOS.}

Last Friday at the House of Blues, Fitz & the Tantrums brought their soul-inflected indie pop to Boston. Right before the band's encore performance of their hit "Moneygrabber," singer/songwriter Michael "Fitz" Fitzpatrick told the audience that the band likes to get down and party -- literally.

In his dispatch from the potentially doomed All Asia earlier this week, Barry Thompson writes:

During their appropriately thunderous performance, guitarist/singer dude Matt Reppucci commanded onlookers to yoink a CD out of a nearby suitcase.

Here's the Old E doing two crowd-pleasin' tunes, "Dead Vulture Hurricane" and "Between Wind and Water" at that Allston apartment mentioned in the story we ran this week.

READ: "Down in the folk trenches with the Old Edison"

^{"Between Wind and Water"}

We're fairly certain none of them actually live there (except maybe Liam?).

It's Sunday night, and the smell of marijuana is thick in the orchestra pit at the Orpheum. Fans in pig masks shout "Fuck you Les!", "Fuck you Larry!", and "Primus fucking sucks!". Les Claypool comes on stage, accompanied by his gentleman cohorts Larry Lalonde on guitars and Jay Lane on drums. He hits a flatulent note on his Carl Thompson bass, and the world explodes.

Get dreamy and check out astral dance-poppers School of Seven Balls performing "Heart Is Strange," the synth-soaked single off their new album Disconnect from Desire, at the Middle East Downstairs on September 11, 2010.

And while you're at it, dig the beautifully hazy electronics and slightly off-putting falsetto of openers Active Child (that voice simply does not match that dude).

^{Active Child play a new song}

“Nowhere is the dreamer or the misfit so alone” sang Rush mouthpiece Geddy Lee in the midst of “Subdivisions”, from 1982’s Signals. Ostensibly a diatribe against the numbing isolation and tribalism of then-modern day suburbia, in some ways it sums up the life of your average Rush fanatic: going through your day, going to the office, hanging out with people, all the while hiding your secret shame that when you put on your headphones you still keep dialing up records with pentagrams on the cover by the dorkiest (and yet most awesome) rock band of all time.

After a decade dominated by their explorations of Ethiopian jazz, the Either/Orchestra have returned on Mood Music for Time Travellers (Accurate), their first album in five years, to good ol' Amurican jazz - meaning Latin, African, swing, free. The leadoff track, bandleader Russ Gershon's "The (One of a Kind) Shimmy," is a classic boogaloo, with rolling piano figures and call-and-response horns.

Click here for the full gallery of Paradise renovation photos (by Derek Kouyoumjian)

Joey McIntyre, we’ve got good news: the Paradise has moved that “big frickin’ pole,” just for you.

Well, sort of. Technically, it’s the stage that’s moved — 15 feet towards Commonwealth Avenue — as part of a two-month, $400,000 renovation of the legendary live music club, to be completed this weekend.

It doesn't get any more metal than that. For the sake of sidestepping repetition, I'm just going to throw that sentence out there this one time and you can mentally insert it following every sentence from here on out. Because when it comes down to it, it really doesn't get any more metal than Saturday's clinic in thrash at the Tsongas Center by way of Slayer and Megadeth.

^{The NowhereNauts play a Girls Rock Camp benefit show. Click here for more photos from the show.}

When I walk into Symposium Books, Sofie Kapur is in the middle of an acoustic version of the Dandy Warhols' "We Used to Be Friends." And she's killing it. There are only about six people scattered about the folding chairs before her, but she might as well be singing to a packed house.