SPACE; Thu 22
Soul Coughing frontman reads from his memoir of asshole bandmates, empty sex, heroin and self-loathing. It’s a riot. He plays, too. But, eh.
The Temper Trap
Lincoln Hall; Fri 23, Sat 24
Aussies sell out two night thanks to a Diet Coke commercial. “Sweet Disposition,” indeed.
Peter Case & Paul Collins
Empty Bottle; Sun 25
Don’t be the guy who says, “Hey, this is that Blondie song!” These power-pop kings wrote and first rocked “Hanging on the Telephone.”
Riviera Theatre; Sun 25
The LMFAO of metal rips through 2001’s I Get Wet and reaggravates old whiplash injuries. His fist-pumpin’ party jams were sadly prophetic.
The Magnetic Fields
The Vic; Mon 26, Tue 27
Stephin Merritt fancies himself as Jerome Kern on 4AD Records in the 1980s. He’s more Louis C.K. fronting They Might Be Giants.
The Wedding Present
Double Door; Tue 27
Seamonsters taught scrawny U.K. indie how to add muscle. Twenty years on, the band plays it entirely, and new songs that sound the same.
Metro; Wed 28
Prince-on-PCP kook Kevin Barnes dresses his personal demons in Speedos, feathers and clown paint. That makes them scarier, obviously.
Housse de Racket
Empty Bottle; Thu 29
Suburban Paris duo is a budget Phoenix. “Oh Yeah!” is a blast. Are vintage keyboards compulsory in France?
The Burlington; Thu 29
Dirty new-wave at 100mph. Punks are so past the we-hate-keyboards stance.
Of Monsters and Men
Park West; Fri 30
Sold out! Huh. The Mumford & Sons folk phenomenon has passed on to this Reykjavík troupe. Not as weird as other Icelanders. Unfortunately.
Lincoln Hall; Sat 31
“Don’t regret being a ragged kid,” he sez. At 30, the power-popper still writes like a teen—when he’s on, not slide-guitarin’ into adulthood.
Allstate Arena; Sun 1
Another five weeks of touring may have honed Halen’s skills since its stiff United Center gig. Then again, they’re all a month older.
Band of Skulls
House of Blues; Tue 3
Two Dukes of Haphazzard indulge in jejune Dixie riffage. The girl’s wistful backups show muscle cars roar with sugar in the gas tank.
The Ting Tings
Metro; Tue 3
Cheerleader-n-jock duo refuses to go quietly into onehitwonderland. Like Sleigh Bells, but with less death anxiety, more white-girl rapping.
Aragon; Tue 3
The public is hungry for a new Sting. 4,500 yuppies shelled out 30 bucks to hear his one hit—more than can probably pronounce his name.
Metro; Wed 4
Viscid chillwave kid cowers behind echo and wet-socks synthesizer. Charlie Brown’s sad-sack moping as sung by his unintelligible teacher.