Kill the Vultures, AIDS Wolf, and more

Noise-rock weirdos AIDS Wolf

Noise-rock weirdos AIDS Wolf


Quintron and Miss Pussycat

7th St. Entry

With the release of last year's Too Thirsty 4 Love still fresh in listeners' minds, Quintron and Miss Pussycat return to headline the same venue the duo played just a year ago, opening for the Black Lips. On the surface they appear anything but a likely pair: the darling Miss Pussycat with a large pompon on her head and maracas in hand, and the devilish Quintron hunched on a stool, attacking his keyboards, hi-hat and Drum Buddy (his handmade, light-sensitive drum-machine...which really makes no sense until you see and hear it). Balancing songs between Quintron's twisted organ-grinding outbursts and Miss Pussycat's cheerleader-meets-banshee squeals, the duo ultimately end up producing a sound that is a cross between a variety show and pure madness. And after winding things down, chances are high that the set will be concluded with an extended puppet show. Madness, indeed. With Psychedelic Horseshit and France Has the Bomb. 18+. $8/$10 at the door. 9 p.m. 701 First Ave. N., Minneapolis; 612.332.1775. —Chris DeLine



Big V's

There would be massive head-banging at AIDS Wolf's upcoming appearance if anyone could find a beat to flop their necks to. Instead, expect energetic thrashing and post-show rushes to the emergency room for stitches. This is a small price to pay to hear the Montreal quartet's acupuncture-like no wave. Imagine a half-hour of pleasure needles seeding radioactive flowers in your guts. Ahhhh. AIDS Wolf take a playbook page from former noise rockers Arab on Radar, with their choppy robo guitars and incomprehensible time signatures, but top off the chaos with singer Chloe Lum's primal mewing and trancelike whining to create a decisively new breed of fanged creature. Adding to the danger are Lum's caped-avenger stage costumes and Power Ranger dance moves. Be afraid. Be very afraid. But don't let that stop you from trekking to St. Paul because, with the nerdy vengeance and glitchy madness of locals Gay Beast and Unicorn Basement, this is one of the best noise rock lineups of the year. 21+. $6. 8 p.m. 1567 University Ave. W., St. Paul; 651.645.8472. —Erin Roof


Kill the Vultures

Triple Rock Social Club

Kill the Vultures have gone two albums and an EP deep into a career devoted to giving you a distinct feeling of noir-tinged unease. Their last full-length, 2006's The Careless Flame, stands up there with Buck 65's more out-there work in the pantheon of hip-hop-styled attempts to replicate the strange rustlings going on in Tom Waits's brain. Their 2007 follow-up, Midnight Pine, upped the stakes by working the graveyard shift with early Sun Ra and '50s pulp paperback versions of modern urban travails. Now, with the release of Ecce Beast, Crescent Moon's ragged beat-poet lyrics and Anatomy's loping, bone-rattling beats combine for an even deeper cinematic experience, fusing night-terror bop, keening free jazz, Hitchcock-score orchestration, and evocative tales of blood-shedding misdeeds both criminal and psychological. It might just be their most harrowing (read: best) album to date, and the CD-release show at the Triple Rock will give those unsettling vibes a direct line into your head. With Mel Gibson & the Pants, Mike Mictlan, and Mike the 2600 King. 18+. $8. 8 p.m. 629 Cedar Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612.333.7399. —Nate Patrin

Art Garfunkel

Orchestra Hall

Indelibly linked to his Queens childhood pal, Paul Simon, Art Garfunkel has pursued a moderately successful career as a solo artist and actor since their iconic partnership fractured nearly four decades ago. But the enduring image of Artie is of his extraordinary high tenor soaring magnificently above his crown of frizzy hair, harmonizing with Simon and helping definitively etch Simon's lyrics. Simon & Garfunkel have performed together sporadically in the interim, including at the reopening of New York's Beacon Theatre in February. And it's prime S&G material that reportedly makes up nearly half the set list on Garfunkel's current solo tour, with his teenaged son, James, occasionally joining him onstage for key harmonies. The rest of the set will likely include scattered hits from his solo career such as "All I Know" and "My Little Town," as well as selections from his latest album, 2007's Some Enchanted Evening, a collection of standards from the Great American Songbook produced by studio vet Richard Perry. Covering the likes of Arlen, Berlin, Mercer, and Gershwin amidst synth strings, the results are pleasant if predictable. A shadowy version of Jobim's "Corcovado" is quite nice, as is a quirky, pop-folk arrangement of the title track. $20-$50. 8 p.m. 1111 Nicollet Mall, Minneapolis; 612.371.5656. —Rick Mason


Andrew Bird

State Theatre

Andrew Bird's abundant eccentricities can be daunting if you don't give his insidious cleverness ample time or latitude to seep in. He's used plenty of pop conceits in the past, along with enticing shards of everything from folk to rock and samba. There are even some on his latest tricky, often convoluted collection, Noble Beast, such as "Fitz and Dizzyspells," whose melodic drive has some affinity with prime Brian Wilson Beach Boys stuff, but also enough curious details casually whizzing through to warrant a doctoral dissertation. And that's one of the more straightforward tunes. Peeling through the meticulously crafted layers of Bird's songs demands patience. The reward is finding a richness of expression that ebbs and flows through a shape-shifting universe that could start out as chamber music (he's a classically trained violinist), teeter into Celtic-tinged Appalachian music, touch on folk-rock, skirt noirish jazz, and wind up somewhere akin to early Pink Floyd—yet it all makes some sort of sense. At the same time, he plays with language with the deft touch another Bird displayed on the basketball court, taking pleasure at concocting surrealistic images ("wild parsnips scar my lungs") and reveling in manipulating its sounds ("flailing fetal fleas, feeding from the arms of the master"). Anyway, Bird lives in Illinois but is practically a local, thanks to his close affiliation with a slew of musicians active in the Twin Cities, including Martin Dosh and Jeremy Ylvisaker, who regularly join this rare Bird's flights of fancy. $23.50-$27.50. 8 p.m. 805 Hennepin Ave., Minneapolis; 612.339.7007. —Rick Mason

Lily Allen

First Avenue

Englishwoman Lily Allen makes for a well put-together bundle of contradictions: a proper, petite lass who—if her lyrical declarations are to be taken at face value—isn't afraid to swear, brawl, or look down her nose at anyone. She's no Regina Spektor or Amy Winehouse, certainly; there's a pinched, robotic thinness to her voice that would be a liability if she were in the pop game to windsurf miasmas or inhuman singing ranges. That detachedness works in her favor, though, because Allen's shtick is that of the entitled, superior snot—think of her as a smarter, self-aware, limey Lada Gaga. The thematic thrust of new album It's Not Me, It's You is that she's grown up enough to know that drugging, partying, blowing credit at fancy boutiques, and treating others like trash is bullshit—but we're betting she still does all of that stuff, with a smirk. With Natalie Portman's Shaved Head. 18+. $25. 7 p.m. 701 First Ave. N., Minneapolis; 612.332.1775. —Ray Cummings


Dub Trio

Triple Rock Social Club

With the notable exception of Bad Brains, there'd previously been a dearth of significant bands over the last few decades that have combined the miles-deep echo of dub reggae production with the heavy, guitar-churning force of punk and metal. But it makes sense that a band that debuted on ROIR, the label that gave the world Bad Brains' first cassette-released album, would pick up that mantle. Brooklyn's Dub Trio has spent the last few years finding the ideal split between mostly instrumental heavy rock and booming, King Tubby-caliber dub sounds, where charging riffs split up and decay into wobbling, ricocheting bass and percussion. (Needless to say, it's great headphone music.) Their most recent CD, Another Sound Is Dying, has clocked a good deal of mileage after being out more than a year, but good dub—and good rock—has a way of reworking its original, familiar forms into new and fascinating mutations in concert. With Sleepytime Gorilla Museum and Faun Fables. 18+. $12/$15 at the door. 8 p.m. 629 Cedar Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612.333.7399. —Nate Patrin


Kris Kristofferson

Pantages Theatre

At Stella's Fish Cafe this fall, an older gentleman struck up a conversation with me, and it turned toward country music. "You know, Kris Kristofferson spent a month living with me back in the '70s," he said. I asked if it was a fun month. "Yeah, I think so. I don't remember much of it." He threw me a wink to let me know the loss of memory had nothing to do with age and everything to do with Kristofferson's penchant for narcotics. Battling Willie Nelson for the most soft-spoken country outlaw, Kristofferson nonetheless raised a lot of Cain in his younger days. His music, though, is tender and wistful, good for road trips and late nights drinking alone. It is the tragedy of his career that he will be better remembered as grumpy badass Whistler from the Blade film series than as the author and best performer of "Me and Bobby McGee." True outlaw country fans, though, would never mistake him for a footnote to the movement; we can expect the Pantages crowd to be equal parts hick and hipster. 7:30 p.m. $42-$47. 710 Hennepin Ave., Minneapolis; 612.339.7007. —Ward Rubrecht