The year 2012... Christ, if I thought I'd live this long I would've taken better care of myself - my ears, anyway. All the bands I've loved over the years come to bed with me at night in the form an incessant ringing in my ears. This week, the nocturnal air-raid siren got goosed once again by visits to several high-octane, high-volume shows.

Dub-step and drum-and-bass elude me to a certain extent; I'm not sure exactly what I'm supposed to feel, but I enjoy its swirling dynamic. I'm also amazed at its impact on revelers who ride the lightning and interpret the music with a sort of free-form gesticulation that resembles trying to fly, shrink, or get out of a straitjacket. This was all going on during the RIPROC extravaganza Friday, December 30, at Water Street Music Hall. DJs ping-ponged sets between the two stages as the crowd continued to grow. Girls in gasmasks, guys in stormtrooper helmets, kids with hula hoops, and folks clearly on their own planet kept the vibe high. My one complaint wasn't so much the volume, but rather the complete lack of mid-range; it was all subsonic lows with shrieking high tones. In between? Tumbleweeds.

Slipped over to Abilene to catch Krypton 88's second set full of croonin', swoonin', and twang. While guitarist Jim Via picks casual and cool, vocalist Jenna Weintraub works it like she owns it, and drives it like it's a rental. She will take you for a ride. Hold on to something, or someone.

Saturday night was the show I had been waiting for: the Trashcan Records Reunion at the Bug Jar. Muler was airborne when I pulled in; the energy was palpable as the band worked through a set of its punkish indie rock. But it was pop-rockers The Quitters that I was particularly fired up to see. Like the Jam and Cheap Trick before them, this band finds melodies The Beatles overlooked (probably when they were hanging out with Ravi), skewer them with a blistering hook, and top it off with lyrics dipped in self-deprecation and wit. The Thundergods followed, and what do you know? It was loud as hell. Brilliant, three-chord power rock that left me and the crowd spent.

Happy new year! And to all the bands I bring to bed this year, stay away from my wife, and don't hog all the pillows.