>"I know you're disappointed/I see your disappointment in" isn't exactly Yeats or Auden, let alone Bon Iver. But Male Bonding make no claims to profundity; the U.K. foursome rock like a pogo-pop hit parade through the speakers of a disintegrating jalopy. On Nothing Hurts, they smash corn-syrupy chords together like cymbals, discovering sweet deliverance from life's imperfections in fist-pumping choruses and quivery jolts of feedback. There's no shortage of bands working this particular angle right now, and Male Bonding can only walk this agony-as-ecstasy tightrope for so long. (Unless they've got Michael Cera-like luck on their side.) Right now, though, they're the perfect tonic for bidding adieu to weeks when the world won't seem to stop kicking you in the teeth. With Best Coast. 18+.
Thu., Sept. 16, 8 p.m., 2010
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