Rock Picks: Rutlemania, Kinky, Angels & Airwaves

TUESDAY, MARCH 18

The Felice Brothers, Justin Townes Earle at the Echo

West London calling: Carbon/Silicon’s Mick Jones & Tony James

Michelle Cottam

Carla Bozulich blows into her imaginary harmonica.

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The Felice Brothers are three brothers and a buddy from upstate New York who’ve probably never heard any music they love more than the stuff Bob Dylan recorded (in upstate New York) with the Band. On their nifty self-titled album, out now on Bright Eyes front man Conor Oberst’s Team Love label, they sing about whiskey in their whiskey and pistols in their pants, which should give you an indication of their interest in modern times. (Modern Times they probably dig.) Justin Townes Earle is the son of Steve Earle, but on his new The Good Life he sounds less concerned with punking up his roots than his dad does these days; in fact, the best tunes have lap steel, strings and harmony vocals that import a bit of old-timey Nashville elegance. He had to rebel by playing it straight. (Mikael Wood)

Kinky at the Mayan

Monterrey quintet Kinky are a sleek and supple band with heavy doses of electronica injected into their rock & roll. Sometimes they come off as the Mexican equivalent to Duran Duran with bilingual lyrics sprinkled into their heavy dance-floor action. They do a neat subversion of Wall of Voodoo’s “Mexican Radio,” contrasting shiny synths with a merry old-school accordion on the re-released, augmented version of their 2006 CD, Reina. The album features guest vocals from Men at Work’s Colin Hay on the slinky funk of “Monday Killer” and airy chirping from Ely Guerra on the hit “¿A Dónde Van los Muertos?” Singer Gil Cerezo launches himself into outer space amid the beeps and blips of “Sister Twisted,” which rides along Cesar Pliego’s rubbery bass line. Carlos Chairez’s snippets of guitar slide in and out of the trance-y murk of “How Do They Do That?” in a mesmerizing fashion, and he chops up his riffs with funky precision on the Devoesque “Again and So On.” Bring your dancing shoes. With Beastie Boys keyboardist Money Mark. (Falling James)

Also playing Tuesday:

RACHAEL YAMAGATA at the Hotel Café, 8:30 & 10:30 p.m.; BLACK MOTH SUPER RAINBOW at the Knitting Factory; DAN BERN at Hayworth Theater, 8 p.m.

 WEDNESDAY, MARCH 19

Carbon/Silicon at El Rey Theatre

The late Joe Strummer, with his down-to-earth approachability, played the good cop in the Clash to Mick Jones’ more rock-star-ish bad cop (typified by the bitchy way he dissed roadie Ray Gange in the semi-fictional film Rude Boy), but don’t forget that Jones not only sang the band’s more melodic hits, he was an underrated lyricist. He’s paired with Generation X’s Tony James on The Last Post in an exciting new project, Carbon/Silicon, that rocks harder than Big Audio Dynamite and is — sacrilegious as it might be to say — more musically satisfying and closer to the eclectic spirit of the later Clash than Strummer’s Mescaleros. “The Magic Suitcase” is an airy power-pop tune that blends the Velvet Underground with David Bowie and Mick Ronson, while “National Anthem” is a spacy disco-pop statement of purpose and “Caesars Palace” mesmerizes with a shiny chorus hook. Jones champions his environmentally conscious “ideals versus economic pain” on the breezy “Acton Zulus” but is most compelling on the insanely catchy “What the Fuck,” with a staccato guitar riff that’s lifted from the Who’s “Can’t Explain” (or “Clash City Rockers,” for that matter), revealing the endless possibilities lurking in a few simple, distorted Kinks power chords. (Falling James)

Born Ruffians at the Echo

Born Ruffians are the Little Engine That Could of Torontopian indie rock, the plucky tugboat of super-energized live shows. Their rousing youth anthems are cute and self-assured without the often-commensurate rub of too-sweet precociousness. The band have a solid following, but they have yet to seize the internationalism of Tokyo Police Club or the older contingency of the Canadian indie brain trust. Born Ruffians have a shot, though: Red, Yellow and Blue is out on Warp and they’re soon to enter the SXSW grind, which is usually good to the band’s breed of ad-hoc attitudinal nerve. It’s nice too that a band like this has a fucking point. There are thematic and musical concerns here other than jagging off on guitars and swishing around shiny hair. The gestalt of Born Ruffians is of tight, steady fun with no winking irony and, periodically, moments of weighty insight that is by necessity sugar free. (Kate Carraway)

Also playing Wednesday:

NADA SURF, SEA WOLF, LITTLE ONES at Henry Fonda Theater; CARL STONE at Amoeba Music; MIKE STINSON, DANNY B. HARVEY at Taix; SARA MELSON at Tangier; THE VINES at the Troubadour.

THURSDAY, MARCH 20

Evangelista at Safari Sam’s

For her latest project, Evangelista, singer Carla Bozulich has moved away from the haunted Americana of her old band the Geraldine Fibbers and the industrial clangor of Ethyl Meatplow. It’s all about moody atmosphere on her new album, Hello, Voyager (Constellation). She intones the opener, “Winds of St. Anne,” in a cracked and weary Marianne Faithfull voice over a simmering harmonium that evokes Nico’s windswept collaborations with Brian Eno. “Smooth Jazz” is anything but, riven with Tara Barnes’ doomy, lumbering bass and Bozulich’s cacophonous guitars. “Truth Is Dark Like Outer Space” expands and contracts with monumental Sonic Youth–like guitars, while the somber idylls “The Blue Room” and “Lucky Lucky Luck,” which is dotted with Barnes’ pulsing pinpoints of bass, are relatively melodic interludes amid the stormy chaos. “Most people walk right through me/leave their scent, but that’s all,” Bozulich confides amid the twined strokes of Jessica Moss’ violins and Nadia Moss’ slow-burning organ on the solemn incantation “Paper Kitten Claw.” She intones an impassioned plea for love on the title-track closer as a serenely funereal organ maintains its cool under an awesome “Horse Latitudes”–style racket of jumbled percussion and noisy guitars. (Falling James)