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The unhinged punk rock/rap crew from Sacramento just released their second furious album of the year—this time for free on the Internet, against their record company’s wishes—with an angry, red-haired dick on its cover. It’s even darker than April’s The Money Store (which added amped-up party vibes to its aggression). This buzzy show is a fine opportunity to decide if they are cynical marketing geniuses or frighteningly angry weirdos for real.
Wednesday, 10/17, at (le) poisson rouge, 8pm; Friday, 10/19, at Villan, 7pm.
Matthew E. White
A Southern gent with an ear for soul and gospel music, Matthew E. White released his acclaimed debut Big Inner in late summer. The album’s songs gently give its big issues—family, faith, cruelty, love, compassion—a big, majestic sweep while maintaining a totally relatable humanity. For fans of Sharon Van Etten or Bon Iver.
Wednesday, 10/17, at Union Pool, 8pm.
The dizzy nihilism of Icona Pop’s hit single “I Love It” is awfully hard to resist. Beyond it’s gym- and car-stereo-appropriate energy levels, its got a dose of smeared-mascara crazy that only ever seems glamorous in the midst of overpowering pop. The Swedish duo has supposedly been nursing their first album for about two years now, which is plenty of time to fill out the rest of their set with bangers of approximately equal bang.
Wednesday, 10/17, at Converse Rubber Tracks, 8pm; Thursday, 10/18, at Santos Party House, 8pm.
Essentially the name given to everything Philadelphia-based musician Michael Johnson has recorded that hasn’t fallen under the Lilys and Holopaw umbrellas, Ape School zones in on Johnson’s obvious knack for hooks. His new album Junior Violence is a step away from his former approach of planting the seed and watching the melody bloom amid psychedelic swirls and whooshes. Here they’re bright and clear, popping out amid lines like, “You fucked yourself!”
Thursday, 10/18, at Pianos, 7pm.
“Psychedelic” is the go-to adjective describing On A Passing Cloud, the debut LP from Louisville-based Murals. This is not without reason, of course, as it nods to the Beach Boys and Yo La Tengo. There are times it moves along as surefooted rambles, a piano playfully goading you along. There are other times it unfurls into weirded-out left fields. No matter which direction it takes you, it’s a lovely trip.
Tuesday, 10/16, at Mercury Lounge, 6:30pm; Friday, 10/19, at Pianos, 7pm.
Being lovely is not a concern of Brooklyn goths Eraas. Formed from the ashes of Connecticut post-rockers Apse, they’ve crossed state lines to drown you in a pool of drone and indecipherable moans, screams and sighs. But once they lure you to the brink of hypnotization, they throw some krautrock jackhammering your way, and it starts all over again. Fans of Slumberland noise enthusiasts Weekend take note.
Wednesday, 10/17, at Cake Shop, 12pm.
Daughn Gibson’s road to buzz balladeer detoured though a stint as a long-haul trucker (plus an equally sweaty run as a heavy-metal drummer). On this year’s All Hell, he broke loose a set of pomo country tracks that lay his thick baritone over looped gospel samples, using newfangled laptop production to sound sort of ancient.
Thursday, 10/18, at Knitting Factory, 7pm.
Photo of Death Grips