Dear Carlos Santana: Stop beating a dead horse

An open letter to Carlos Santana:

Hey guy,

You rule. You're almost as awesome as that lady from Missouri who recently found a Cheeto shaped like Jesus on the cross. (She calls it "Cheesus.")

Seriously, you helped broaden the vocabulary of rock 'n' roll more than three decades ago when you merged Latin percussion and jazz phrasing with combustible, blues-based guitar fireworks.

To this day, groundbreaking albums of yours like "Abraxas" and "Santana III" sound better than ever, boundless and lyrical, a breath of fresh air the likes of which have never quite been exhaled again.

But here's the thing, in order to maintain your legacy as one of the all-time guitar greats, you need to do something very important.

Like, right now.

So go into your office, grab your Rolodex -- and burn it. Then, dig a deep, dark hole, dump the remnants in there, fill it with concrete and build a Jiffy Lube on it or something.

Why?

Because you need to forget J. Lo's digits, my man. Same goes for Rob Thomas, Baby Bash and, ugh, that hack from Nickelback.

C'mon, this prolonged phase of pairing yourself with this of-the-moment popster and that has gotten really old, really quick.

Yeah, we understand, you had a big career rebirth with 1999's guest-heavy "Supernatural," which sold a whopping 15 million copies, but stop beating that dead horse already. When you gotta lob Michelle Branch a phone call every time you make a new album, something has to give.

So, forget all these forced, clunky pairings and get back to making straight up Santana records already.

OK, gotta go and stick some pins in our Sean Paul voodoo doll now.

See ya in Vegas at 8 p.m. Saturday at the MGM Grand Garden arena, 3799 Las Vegas Blvd. South. Tickets are $47.25-$105; call 891-7777.

It looked like they were performing inside the Garden of Eden, the stage awash in foliage and flowers, bright colors and brighter sounds.

The Beatles allusions were obvious, and it made sense: On their latest record, "Pretty.Odd," Vegas rockers Panic at the Disco tried their best to make a classic-sounding pop record steeped in the greats, from the Fab Four to Tom Petty.

For the most part, it worked. A much more diffuse, daring disc than their platinum debut, "Pretty.Odd" saw Panic stretching out and moving away from the sardonic emo confessionals that largely characterized their first album.

Playing The Pearl this past June, Panic seemed to evolve onstage as well, toning down the theatrics of prior outings for a more straightforward, interactive show where they seemed much more comfortable in their own skin.

Currently headlining the "Rock Band Tour" alongside Dashboard Confessional, Plain White T's and fellow Las Vegans The Cab, Panic will be playing outdoors at the Hard Rock Hotel, where the vegetation will be real this time.

See Panic at 7 p.m. Thursday at the Paradise Stage at the Hard Rock Hotel, 4455 Paradise Road. Tickets are $39.50; call 693-5066.

Most metalheads hate Jethro Tull, primarily because Tull stole the first metal Grammy award ever issued from Metallica back in '89, and many longhairs have never forgiven the band.

But one hard-hitting bunch that clearly doesn't feel the same is progressive Swedish powerhouse Opeth, who share Tull's broad-minded approach to hard rock, steadily developing from a straight-up death-metal troupe to one of the most hard-to-pin-down acts of their ilk.

The band's latest album, "Watershed," is one of the year's best, an intricate, sprawling opus flecked with acoustic reveries and growling dirges that routinely cross the eight-minute mark.

And the lineup for their current tour is just as impressive: Joining Opeth is the modern-day Motorhead that is High on Fire and experimental Southern metal wunderkind Baroness.

See the show at 6 p.m. Wednesday at the House of Blues at Mandalay Bay, 3950 Las Vegas Blvd. South. Tickets are $25 in advance, $28 day of show; call 632-7600.

Contact reporter Jason Bracelin at jbracelin@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0476.