7th St. Entry

The clamor for San Francisco's Girls is almost early-Nirvana-sized, so it's not surprising to hear familiar-but-better in their recent debut on True Panther/Matador, Album. The familiar is the echoing jangle and pop-noise of so much indie rock, buffed to a Spector-esque sheen by bassist-engineer Chet "JR" White. The better is what his musical partner Christopher Owens sings and how he sings it, with Elvis Costello's guttural Dylanisms, but also something of Robert Smith's sob, Elliot Smith's warmth, and Conor Oberst's eternal tremble. You don't need a back story to be moved by the line "I wish I had a loving man in my life/I wish I had a father, and maybe then I would have turned out right," though this Miami native apparently escaped a childhood in a Slovenian cult forbidding pop music to eventually escape and start writing his own songs in order to impress fellow Holy Shit members Ariel Pink and Matt Fishbeck. From cult to cult-rock is the headline, in other words, but this band is much more. With Dominant Legs. 18+. $12. 9 p.m. 701 First Ave. N., Minneapolis; 612.332.1775. —Peter S. Scholtes

Wolfmother and Heartless Bastards

State Theatre

Led Zeppelin comparisons don't do either of these buzz bands good or justice. With Australia's Wolfmother, there's the small fact that they don't rock that hard, bluesy-ness and fuzz aside. The amiable yelp of singer-guitarist Andrew Stockdale is closer to the good-time wail of Chris Bell in Big Star than to any tender bat scream from Robert Plant or Ozzy—he could sing Leo Sayer songs. So the effect of would-be balls-out rock formalism such as Wolfmother's 2005 breakthrough "Woman" is anonymous camp. Maybe Stockdale suspected as much, because the new Cosmic Egg contains the seeds of a creative way out: "White Feather" is retro without being heavy, its harmonies evoking both Free's "All Right Now" and Boston's "More Than a Feeling" without copying either. Both Wolfmother and the Heartless Bastards are former trios stripped of two members to start over anew and expand around their singer-guitarist—"cosmic egg" refers to the singularity before the Big Bang. As it happens, Texas Ohioans the Heartless Bastards recorded their most back-chilling '00s punk-soul number, "Into the Open," with their previous lineup, but they nearly surpass it on several tracks across this year's third LP, The Mountain, the best being acoustic, with Erika Wennerstrom waxing as elemental about her hard-won optimism as Plant once did about his cock. With Thenewno2. $25-$49. 7 p.m. 824 Hennepin Ave., Minneapolis; 612.339.7007. — Peter S. Scholtes

SUNDAY 11.15

Dirty Dozen Brass Band

Dakota Jazz Club

New Orleans's Dirty Dozen are celebrating the 25th anniversary of their first album release. My Feet Can't Fail Me Now only confirmed the Dozen's phenomenal reinvention of the Crescent City's brass-band tradition that was ignited on its street corners and in its clubs. Existing brass bands already knew how to shake it pretty good on the way back from the boneyard, but the Dozen jacked the rhythms into overdrive, poured on the funk, and saturated the whole thing with bop inspired by the likes of Bird, Monk, and Dizzy (who actually appeared on a subsequent album). Having inspired legions of followers, the Dozen are still on the cusp of the revolution, last time out redoing Marvin Gaye's classic What's Going On in its entirety in the context of contemporary disasters like Katrina and Bush. But when the horns get hot, the rhythms boil and quake, and the second-line umbrellas start twirling, it's party time down on Rampart and Dumaine. $30 at 7 p.m.; $22 at 9:30 p.m. 1010 Nicollet Mall, Minneapolis; 612.332.1010. —Rick Mason

MONDAY 11.16

Evan Christopher & Henry Butler

Dakota Jazz Club

A dazzling clarinet player, Evan Christopher is thoroughly steeped in traditional New Orleans jazz, exemplified by the likes of Sidney Bechet and Barney Bigard. His fluid improvisations and soaring, piercing style have been repeated showstoppers on his visits as a member of Irvin Mayfield's New Orleans Jazz Orchestra. Although a southern California native, Christopher has been a stalwart on the New Orleans scene for 15 years, apart from interludes playing with the Jim Cullen Jazz Band in San Antonio and, post-Katrina, a two-year residency in Paris. It was there that he recorded his last album, Django á la Créole, a brilliant reworking of Django Reinhardt's Hot Club repertoire that combines Django's Gypsy jazz with the Creole howl of Crescent City licorice stick and a spicy array of rhythms gathered from points south, from New Orleans through the Caribbean to Brazil. Next summer, he'll premiere a composition here commissioned by the Minnesota Orchestra. And he was just here a couple of weeks ago for a little-publicized performance for Dakota A-Train club members. Now he's back for a pair of highly recommended shows. The prospects for this gig just got elevated from great to fantastic with the late addition of ace New Orleans pianist Henry Butler, whose eclectic musical background and unique perspective yields wonderfully eccentric versions of the New Orleans canon. As a duo, there's no telling where they'll venture, but chances are there'll be at least something of a tribute to Butler's mentor, the late clarinet great Alvin Batiste. $20. 7 p.m. 1010 Nicollet Mall, Minneapolis; 612.332.1010. Also Tuesday —Rick Mason

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