Brother Ali, Dinosaur Jr., John Fogerty, and more

Brother Ali goes with the flow at First Ave

Brother Ali goes with the flow at First Ave


Dinosaur Jr.

First Avenue

The music video for 1994's "Feel the Pain" featured members of Dinosaur Jr. cruising around the city in a golf cart, and the music video for 2009's "Over It" captures the band as they cruise around the city on skateboards and bikes. While lead singer and guitarist J. Mascis finally put the band name to sleep in 1997, after the original lineup had long since disbanded, the videos offer a fairly accurate representation of how much the band's music has changed in the past 15 years—hardly at all. Formed in Amherst, Massachusetts, some 25 years ago, Dinosaur Jr. is a band that has mastered the art of feedback and remains a catalyst for distortion to this day. After Mascis reunited with bassist Lou Barlow and drummer Murph in 2005 for a European tour, the band went on to release Beyond in 2007, the first album featuring all three original members since 1988's Bug. Now having released Farm this past summer on the independent label Jagjaguwar, Dinosaur Jr appears to be back in full swing once again. Word to the wise when seeing the band live, though: Bring earplugs. You're going to need them. With MV & EE. 18+. $20. 8 p.m. 701 First Ave. N, Minneapolis; 612.332.1775. —Chris DeLine

John Fogerty

State Theatre

When Creedence Clearwater Revival splintered in the early 1970s, John Fogerty found himself in a kind of limbo. He responded by recording an album of country, blues, and gospel covers, playing every instrument and singing all the parts himself. Although he issued it semi-anonymously as the Blue Ridge Rangers, Fogerty's distinctive guitar work and black-water yowl instantly identified him as the guy responsible for Creedence's vast array of indelible tunes. Thirty-six years and a thriving solo career later, Fogerty rustled up Rides Again, a marvelous collection of fresh covers from the Rangers, which now include such wily studio vets as Buddy Miller and Greg Leisz. Crackling with energy and caked with a dusty roots vibe, the no-longer lone Ranger offers terrific versions of John Prine's "Paradise," Buck Owens's "I Don't Care," John Denver's "Back Home Again," Rick Nelson's "Garden Party" (with Eagles Don Henley and Timothy B. Schmit helping on vocals), and the Everly Brothers' "When Will I Be Loved," a dynamite duet with Bruce Springsteen. Live, expect those tunes scattered among Creedence classics and nuggets from Fogerty's solo career. $47-$67. 8 p.m. 824 Hennepin Ave., Minneapolis; 612.339.7007. —Rick Mason


Fuck Buttons

Triple Rock Social Club

Tarot Sport, the sophomore album from U.K. duo Fuck Buttons, underlines the point the pair made in interviews for their 2007 debut, Street Horrrsing: They don't do "noise," per se. Certainly, Horrrsing's coursing electronic currents were clogged with chunky, clunky nuggets of entropic, windpipe-clogging coal and soul-in-eternal-torment screams: evidence enough, for many, that Andrew Hung and Benjamin John Power spent whatever disposable income they had scarfing up Birchville Cat Motel vinyl. But Sport is more interested in wholesale synth-psych quavering, Mogwai-esque atmospheric moods, and generally calming listeners' frazzled nerves—which is fine by us. Noise rock's all right for vicariously fighting the faceless powers blithely crushing your various dreams and ambitions into paste; what Fuck Buttons bring to the table, now, is much-needed out-of-body bliss. Get yourselves lost. With Growing. 18+. $10/$12 at the door. 9 p.m. 629 Cedar Ave. S, Minneapolis; 612.333.7399. —Ray Cummings

Vic Chesnutt

The Cedar

As eccentric, inspired, and riveting as the most provocative outsider visual artists, Vic Chesnutt writes songs that cut to the quick while twisting things beyond their normal frames of reference, inverting perspectives, perceptions, expectations. He's also unflinchingly self-aware, which may come from having an unusually agile mind inside a body ravaged by a car accident at age 18 and dependent on a wheelchair. "I am a monster like Quasimoto," he quietly sings in his characteristically creaky voice on "It Is What It Is" from his latest, At the Cut. He goes on to dissect his own character, showing the dichotomous nature of human nature ("irritable as a hornet...agreeable as it gets") while making sharp, universal points ("appearance is everything so nothing is how it seems"). Elsewhere he flirts with death as he would a lover, contemplates the nature of courage, and finds an astonishingly unsentimental tenderness in memory on "Granny." Using many of the same musicians who were on 2007's North Star Deserter (members of Fugazi, Thee Silver Mt. Zion Orchestra, Godspeed You! Black Emperor—who will also be along on tour), Chesnutt fashions a sound you could call post-Southern gothic, with stark, almost primitive folk-like passages, at times elegantly haunted by violin and cello, but also sometimes exploding into blistering, raw, even epic rock. With Liz Durrett. $14/$16 at the door. 7 p.m. 416 Cedar Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612.338.2674. —Rick Mason

FRIDAY 11.20

Frankie Bones

First Avenue VIP Room

When local techno mastermind Woody McBride had a hand in throwing massive all-night parties in the Twin Cities, he called some of them "dance marathons," tests of stamina featuring a roster of globetrotting DJs and a ribcage-rattling sound system. Now that the climate for those kinds of parties has changed, McBride has taken to more intimate events but has retained both the caliber of talent and levels of bass that made his previous shows so special. This time around, he's stacking up the speakers for a legend, NYC DJ and producer Frankie Bones, a figure who played a seminal role in shaping the rave scene of the early '90s. Even if the days (and nights) of dancing until dawn in filthy warehouses are over, McBride aims to conjure up some of that old magic, an experience immersed in the power of techno's primal thump. If you're new to that experience, remember your earplugs—it's going to get loud. With DJ Werk, DJ Bent, the Push, and DJ Mike Hawk. 18+. $12/$15 at the door. 7 p.m. 701 First Ave. N., Minneapolis; 612.332.1775. —Ian Traas

Roy Haynes & the Fountain of Youth Band

Artists' Quarter

The hell with Ponce De Leon, Roy Haynes is the guy you want to hang out with if you're looking for that elusive elixir of rejuvenation. His distinctive, elastic brand of hard swing is still lithe, limber, and crackling with joyful energy some 60 years after he launched a career that helped define modern jazz. Haynes introduced his own rhythmic innovations—immortalized shorthand by his nickname, Snap Crackle—as he manned the skins for an astounding panoply of jazz icons: Bird, Prez, Bud Powell, Miles, Louis Armstrong, Monk, Diz, Trane, Sonny Rollins, Eric Dolphy. Much of that history is captured on Dreyfus's wonderful 2007 four-disc set A Life in Time: The Roy Haynes Story. The newest tune on there is a rousing version of Bird's "Segment," from 2006's Grammy-nominated Whereas, recorded live at the Artists' Quarter. Haynes is a longtime friend of AQ owner and fellow drummer Kenny Horst, and has a special affection for the place. So the subterranean palace should be hoppin' and boppin' when Haynes cranks up his superb Fountain of Youth Band, which includes pianist Martin Bejerano, saxophonist Marcus Strickland, and bassist John Sullivan. $30 at 8 p.m., $25 at 10:30 p.m. 408 St. Peter St., St. Paul; 651.292.1359. —Rick Mason


Brother Ali

First Avenue

Striking though his categorical attributes might be, what makes Minnesota's best-known white albino Muslim rapper great is the swinging, preacherly sonorousness of his voice and how he puts it to intimate use when talking about "us"—as in, whoever is identifying with what he's saying. He's a rare cultural amalgam as a result, not because his between-worlds experience is so unusual (which it is and isn't), but because his righteousness is so generous. Produced entirely by Atmosphere's Ant, Brother Ali's new album on Rhymesayers, Us, finds him celebrating family peace and success (on "Fresh Air") but still identifying with outsiders five different ways, never more surefooted than when flowing, "You say I made you fall in love with me/Wish I could make you fall in love with you," and never sounding more natural and relaxed than with Mint Condition's Stokley Williams singing sweet backup on the outro. With Evidence, Toki Wright, and BK One. 18+. $15. 8 p.m. 701 First Ave. N., Minneapolis; 612.332.1775. —Peter S. Scholtes


Nomad World Pub

Mixing '60s girl-pop vocals with ghoulish organ lines, the Chicago ladies (and boy) of Hollows have created a warped, modern Motown, even including a razor edge of punk. (Imagine the Shangri-Las with tattoos and master's degrees in Brass Knuckle Utilization.) Most songs start with cutesy, breathy vocals performed in harmony, but inevitably the spook factor quickly rises with creepy lyrics about scarecrows, freaky birds, and bad boys. In "Love Will Find You," even sing-songy daydreams morph into nightmares, as heckling playground laughter overtakes the chorus in an orchestrated Carrie climax. Thinking Hollows are all smiles and doe eyes is a wrong move, schoolchildren. Those bitches hide knives under their dresses. With Funeral and the Twilight, Zombie Season, and Sundowners. 21+. $5. 9 p.m. 501 Cedar Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612 338-6424. —Erin Roof

MONDAY 11.23

Electric Six

First Avenue

Although the Electric Six are long into their recording career, they have taken on much more of a life as a touring band since their mega-hit, "Danger! High Voltage," than many might have expected. If by chance you haven't heard the song, it catapulted the band into international fame with its repetitive call and response—the song begins, "Fire in the disco, fire in the Taco Bell," and things only go up from there. While vocalist and primary songwriter Dick Valentine is the lone original member of the band, their sound has been a constant over the Electric Six's seven albums. The band's sound might best be described as a mixture between suburban funk and power-chord disco, while the lyrics, much like Valentine's gratuitously macho vocals, ooze sexuality (especially if you're into gratuitously macho vocals). While lyrically reaching for the levels of promiscuity and sexual freedom (straight, gay, whatever) that only a rock 'n' roll band might be able to achieve, Valentine has also been known to effortlessly shift between his overtly masculine growl and a yelp that is as close to that of the Bee Gees' Barry Gibb as anyone from Detroit might ever come. With the Gay Blades and Millions of Brazilians. 18+. $12. 8 p.m. 701 First Ave. N., Minneapolis; 612.332.1775. —Chris DeLine


Harper Simon

The Cedar

The strange relationship between famous musicians and their children likely dates back as far as music itself. While some offspring attempt to distance themselves from their parents, refusing to follow in their chosen path, others choose to take their parents' leads in an attempt to plow ahead and carve out their own lines in history's sands. Norah Jones, for instance, has done well to follow a similar path as her father, the world-renowned sitar player Ravi Shankar, though she has distanced herself from his musical legacy. But what do you do when you want to create music of your own when your father is one of America's all-time greatest singer-songwriters? You start a cabaret-punk band, of course. While that's the direction that Harper Simon followed for several years after he graduated from college (the band being Menlow Park), his new self-titled album is something much more akin to the legacy of his father, Paul Simon. His airy harmonics flow with an eerie familiarity that is unmistakable. Not unlike Simon (either dad or son) vocally is the gentle-sounding Peter Pisano, one half of Peter Crier Wolf, the local duo who will open the show. $12/$15 at the door. 7:30 p.m. 416 Cedar Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612.338.2674. —Chris DeLine