While no blood was actually shed at the Vampire Weekend show at Richard's on Thursday night, I have the pulled neck and bruises to prove I was front and centre for the best show Vancouver's seen this year.

Opening band YACHT took the sold-out crowd by storm, turning Richards on Richards into a head-bopping, ass-shaking, sweat-filled aerobics class. Lead singer Jona and new sidekick Claire worked the stage like kids who forgot to take their Ritalin, all sexy-awkward high kicks, jumps, and bumps 'n grinds. Jona looks like the real-life manifestation of Napoleon Dynamite. A dance off between the two would be heaven.

When Vampire Weekend came out about a half-hour later, the excitement from YACHT's set still hadn't worn off. The band looked like nice college kids who'd just come from the library, until they ripped in to their very first song, Mansard Roof. It's impossible to know whether a super-hyped band (like Vampire Weekend) will live up to all the buzz, so it's a huge relief when they do. The set was tight, the audience knew all of the words, and you'd have to have a heart of stone not to be won over by Vampire Weekend's shyly befuddled smiles of 'how the hell did this happen?'

Long before Shrek, there was another twisted, more sophisticated take on fairy tales to answer the question of "What happens after happily ever after?"

Into the Woods, on now at the Vancouver East Cultural Centre, is the hit Broadway musical from Stephen Sondheim (Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street). More than any of his other productions, Into the Woods is stuffed to the brim with memorable characters and witty, wonderful songs.

Many of our nostalgic favourites get the revamped treatment, their intentions and their morals as compromised as any real person: Jack, with the bean stalk, is lovable but dim-witted; Little Red Riding Hood wields a knife with delectable pleasure; Rapunzel is a traumatized Virgin Mary, held captive by a wicked witch who just wants to be a mother.

A combination of crappy crowd and uninspired performances came close to making British Sea Power at the Plaza on Wednesday night a complete wash.

The lackluster Elizabeth opened the show, and they tried to get the audience engaged, but it wasn't happening. A three-foot circumference remained empty around the stage for the majority of Elizabeth's set, until the lead singer finally implored the audience to come closer. With just one song left, it felt a bit too little too late for such antics. And, nothing's sadder than a failed clap-along.

The Mountain Goats kicked off their tour in support of their new album, Heretic Pride, at Richards on Richards Friday night, and the pent up energy from their winter hibernation was contagious.

Opening act Jeffrey Lewis and the Jitters set the night off to a great start with an a capella ode to ramen noodles. The band's art-punk sing-song bittersweetness was a great compliment to the Mountain Goat's humourously dark, pulsing indie rock. My favourite moments consisted of Lewis's man-child "films" (large picture books, see the slide show) that illustrated songs about a monster's dismembered hand, and growing up.

I went to see Léo Wednesday night, the new production by Tarragon Threatre on now until March 1 at the Firehall Arts Centre.

Written by Rosa Laborde, and directed by Richard Rose, Léo tells the story of three young friends coming of age in seventies socialist Chilé, just prior to the violent military coup d'etat, overthrowing Salvador Allende.

Gay or straight, if you happened to catch the OUTloud reading last night, consider yourself lucky. It was an incredible event that showcased the tremendous diversity of some of Vancouver's best queer authors.

I try my best to be un-biased, but my friend Mette Bach was the first to take the stage and she nearly brought everyone to tears with her sweetly observant story about the complexities of all types of love and the curious friendships we forge with strangers.

Michael V. Smith made us smile with his wonderful poem about "hard love" in Toronto. A brief interlude with the lovely drag queen, Isolde N. Barron, felt out of place, but this was an organizational issue, not a performance one. Michelle Miller's excerpt from her foray into fiction helpfully coined the new phrase: "Soft-cunt confidence." The evening drew to a close with the remarkable Colin Thomas (Georgia Straight) who really did bring everyone to tears with his intimate and erotic four-part story about the unraveling of his 25-year relationship.

A photo slideshow of the night after the jump....