Sound Check: Getting to know local record company owner Nicole Sligar

"Music chronicles my life," Nicole Sligar says. "I relate events in my life to when certain records came out."

It's news to me that we have that in common. Although I've known the energetic blonde professionally for several years -- asked favors of her, gotten quotes from her -- it's been all too rare that we've sat down, Nicole and I, and just talked as friends do. We're just too busy.

"Miscommunication leads to complications," raps Lauryn Hill.

So this is what you should know about this local promoter and label owner: She was born in the Watts section of Los Angeles. The first record she ever acquired was "Autoamerican" by Blondie, the new wave band whose bombshell of a vocalist apparently bore no small influence on Sligar's persona: wildly expressive to the eyes, shy and somewhat retiring in conversation.

She plays jazz trumpet, a skill that piqued her interest in managing Attaboy Skip, a short-burn punk/ska fusion band that disintegrated last year. She managed the Huntridge Theatre's day-to-day affairs until shortly before its roof caved in (another story) in fall of 1995.

Today, she is content to be president of Shoestring Records, a local label that has a potential breakout hit boiling in God Among Men's soon-to-be-released debut, "Four-Degree Tear." She also manages that band. And she does contract work for local and regional promoters, most notably Goldenvoice.

Her work explains much about her, except how she came to be in it in the first place.

"I was living the phat life, renting apartments," she says. "Had two cars. Then one day I walked into the Huntridge and fell in love with it. I learned everything I could about the place -- the lights, monitors, front of (the) house. And I organized this street team of high school kids to put out (show) fliers for me."

Happy though she was, she felt restless and left the Huntridge to stretch. Finding that working publicity for national labels didn't quite suit her, she played a hunch one day, calling a local band to offer her talents as a vocalist. The band, Attaboy Skip, didn't have a vocalist slot open but hired her as manager. They accomplished much together: a six-week tour of the Southwest, more than 5,000 CDs sold, five major label representatives sniffing after the band at an EAT'M showcase last year.

None of these accomplishments braced her for Attaboy Skip's dismissal.

"It was like breaking up with seven boyfriends, all at once," she says. "I really love those guys. It was hard to get up from that."

She took an extended hiatus, and seriously contemplated moving to Los Angeles before God Among Men came to Vegas from Reno, seeking representation.

"I heard their tape and wasn't impressed. Sounded like a bunch of butthead '80s rockers," she says, chuckling. "Then I saw them play live and was sold. The little old ladies at Border's -- they played at Border's! -- just loved 'em. Their sound is just a little uncomfortable at first -- because it's different."

Different suits Sligar down to her heels. Where many of her peers are content to stare listlessly at bands, throw beers at them or mosh like crazed weasels to their every descending chord, Sligar combines the best parts of being "in the industry" and being a fan. The walls of her office are lined with mementos of successful events she's helped to manage, and the phone rings every five minutes with fresh God Among Men business.

"Four-Degree Tear" breaks May 7, and Nicole Sligar is ready. "I have enough confidence now to do this job right. I took all I learned about marketing and started applying it to myself." She smiles. "I'm going legit."

Lauryn Hill sings "What is meant to be will be." The interview ends, and we dig into the more rewarding business of friendship.

Stereo Dynamics

Spade Cooley, "Shame on You"; Rex Allen, "The Last of the Great Singing Cowboys," Bloodshot Revival.

To paraphrase Austin Powers, two things above all give me joy -- and one of them is singing cowboys. (The other is, naturally, my bread maker.) The good folk at Chicago-based "Insurgent Country" label Bloodshot apparently feel the same way, hence these two piping hot, delicious compilations of Rex Allen and Spade Cooley. We're talking fiddles, lap steel, yodeling -- the real deal, not the 10-gallon effluvia Nashville is shipping by the truckload.

Both discs boast material previously unreleased on CD, and the sound quality has been polished to a sheen. Cooley's Western Swing Dance Gang may as well be in your back seat, squeeze-box, Tex Williams and all. And Allen's angelic yodel (bet you never thought you'd see those two words together) is clear enough to send shivers down your spine.

As for the music -- well, it's Allen and Cooley. Their music is warm, joyful, timeless. If you're coming into the country game by the alternative door opened by the Mavericks, Lucinda Williams and the Derailers, these discs are an absolute must-have. The word "legendary" has seldom been as appropriate.

Get Out, Act Up

I have but one gig to push this week, but it's a doozy. My favorite watering hole, the Double Down Saloon, has suffered the loss of co-owner Scott Siegel, who sadly passed away a few weeks back. A number of Siegel's friends are holding a memorial hootenanny at 5 p.m. Sunday, the proceeds from which will benefit Siegel's unborn child. Bands include 12-Volt Sex, The Vermin, The Nines, Apollo 14, Phatback, King Cartel and many more; spoken word artists will perform as well. House of Blues and CD Warehouse will be giving stuff away -- it's an awful lot of cool stuff for just a $5 donation. Call 791-5775 for more information, and I'll see you there.

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