Solid Gold, Big Head Todd, and more

MONDAY 2.02

Yo! Majesty

Triple Rock Social Club

Kevin Browning

Jam-band circuit mainstays Umphrey's McGee

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More About

• Scott Weiland
• Vic Chestnutt
• Elf Power
• Umphrey's McGee
• Combichrist

In a genre that's much too fond of references to bitches to hos, Yo! Majesty's sex-positive cunt references are refreshing. These women are proud of their lady parts. ("Kryptonite Pussy," anyone?) Though it's doubtful that Jwl. B and Shunda K consider becoming burgeoning feminist and lesbian icons as much as they do their ability to manufacture dripping-hot club beats, they win in both categories. But sometimes girls just wanna have fun. Bangers such as "Club Action," with its punchy and foul-mouthed chorus, help people forget (for the night) about the labels they drag around and focus on getting sweaty in as many ways as possible. Unfortunately, Jwl. B will be unable to make the show due to "personal reasons making it impossible for her to travel." Still, half of a one-two sucker punch can nonetheless leave you raw. With Natalie Stewart. 18+. $12. 9 p.m. 629 Cedar Ave., Minneapolis; 612.333.7499. —Erin Roof

TUESDAY 2.03

Combichrist

Station 4

Nine Inch Nails, you say? KMFDM, kinda? Wumpscut? Ministry? Late-era White Zombie? Rammstein, perhaps? Yeah, more or less. Combichrist traffic in the same sort of danceable industrial electronic bile, catchy hatred, and beat-saturated nihilism—difference is, they're Norwegians who moved to the United States. It's pop with a fuck-you serrated edge that celebrates the endorphin rush of pain. Samples bleed in and out of the mix, filtered synths boomerang about, and frontman Andy LaPlegua oozes a palpable disgust. When you're a young'un, this sort of syncopated noise acts as something cathartic; to listen is to be empowered, to vanquish foes and authority figures without actually shedding blood, damaging property, or brooding in a jail cell. When you've grown up a bit, it's ambient adrenaline to propel you from that first or third cup of coffee to when it's time to head home. Either way, everyone wins, and we're glad this strain of throbbing disdain isn't showing any signs of going out of style. With Black Light Burns and Desillusion. 16+. $15/$18 at the door. 7 p.m. 201 E. Fourth St., St. Paul; 651.298.0173. —Ray Cummings