Rock Picks: The Dirtbombs, Robyn, Dizzee Rascal

Doheny Blues Festival at Dana Point Festival Grounds

When you get an earful of genuine blues, what really strikes home is the sheer, almost mystical power that the form can convey. The blues, after all, are born from primordial elements: the bedrock of gospel and spirituals, the centuries of injustice and oppression ceaselessly visited upon African-American, and the soul-deep need to articulate that particular human experience. Now, God love Bonnie Raitt and Jonny Lang, but such are scarcely equipped to even begin to draw upon those elemental forces. However, when you’re dealing with venerable artists like pioneering piano wizard Pinetop Perkins, the extravagantly primitivo guitarist Hubert Sumlin (whose fretwork drove all those untouchable Howlin’ Wolf classics) and the lowdown, uptown sound of Chi-town’s Willie “Big Eyes” Smith, well, baby, you’re guaranteed an uncut snootful of The Shit. And with the blues-showman extraordinaire Bobby Rush and his live-wire, butt-shaking revue, it’s really just about more than anyone can handle — but what a way to go. Starts at 11 a.m. Also Sun. 25300 Dana Point Harbor Dr., Dana Point. www.omegaevents.com/dohenyblues. (Jonny Whiteside)

Fredrik Skogkvist/Family

Robyn shows her love.

El Perro del Mar sets sail for her inner island.

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Robyn at the Wiltern

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El Perro del Mar sets sail for her inner island.

Kenneth Capello

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The Kills: Looking for a heart of moss

Much is made of pop wunderkinds, the teenage multinationals who are de rigueur in the music business, but the long-term effects of the industry on these so-called mini moguls isn’t encouraging. Especially when they’re compared to Robyn, a cute Swede who was groomed for stardom alongside Britney Spears, had two major hits in 1997 (“Show Me Love” and “Do You Know [What it Takes]”) and then turned down a variety of big-time fame-makers that just didn’t appeal to her, re-emerging in the U.S. 10 years later with a totally righteous electro-pop album, Robyn, featuring “Cobrastyle” (a Teddybears cover), “Konichiwa Bitches” and “Be Mine.” While Robyn was working on her own music (she remained a star in Europe, especially due to her single “Electric”) and establishing her own label, another fate befell Ms. Spears. If anything supports the case for a slowed-down career arc in the pop world, this is it. (Kate Carraway)

Also playing Saturday:

CROWDED HOUSE at the Orpheum Theatre; OLLIN at the Skirball Center, noon; BRANT BJORK & THE BROS at Alex’s Bar; JOEY ALTRUDA’S CRUCIAL RIDDIMS at the Bordello; THE SMITHEREENS at Crash Mansion; EARLIMART at the Echo; MAC CURTIS, GLEN GLENN at Safari Sam’s; WHAT MADE MILWAUKEE FAMOUS at Spaceland; SIMON STOKES, KINGSIZEMAYBE at Taix.

SUNDAY, MAY 18Playing Sunday:

TALLY HO, LOW VS. DIAMOND at El Rey Theatre; WILD WEEKEND at Alex’s Bar; LESLIE & THE BADGERS at the Echo, 5 p.m.; RUSSELL BRAND at the Roxy.

MONDAY, MAY 19El Perro del Mar, Lykke Li, Anna Ternheim at El Rey Theatre

El Perro del Mar is really just a fancy name for the solo Swedish singer Sarah Assbring, although the gentle piano-pop melodies on her new CD, From the Valley to the Stars, are fleshed out nicely with low-key contributions from guitarist Jesper Jarold, drummer Nils Tornqvist and members of the Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra. “It’s easy, babe, to make it hard,” she says in a fragile, barely there whisper on “How Did We Forget?,” while traces of a lightly tapping piano and subdued horns fall softly and soothingly around her like snow. Songs like “Inner Island,” which is delivered with a Kate Bush delicacy, are simple and sweet, “following a certain train of thought,” she says, “of love, grief and loss ... deepest despair and wildest childish euphoria.” Some of that euphoria crops up on the relatively jaunty “Somebody’s Baby,” before slipping back into the glassy stillness of “The Sun Is an Old Friend.” Swedish compatriot Anna Ternheim’s range is a little broader, with the orchestral cabaret pomp of the gauzy “Girl Laying Down,” from her American debut, Halfway to Fivepoints (Decca), although she’s more inviting on the spare intimacy of “No Subtle Men.” Stockholm’s Lykke Li has a contrastingly electronic but compatibly arty dance-pop appeal. (Falling James)

The Kooks at the Wiltern

Of all the laddish Brit guitar-pop imports of late, the Kooks are perhaps the most jauntily charming. Neither as smarty-pants savvy and rhythmically angular as Arctic Monkeys nor as wistfully wobbly as the lo-fi Jamie T, these drainpipe-jean boys swagger, snigger, rock, roll and drink deep from nostalgia’s bottomless cup. Last month’s hook-heavy sophomore full-length, Konk, refreshes Ziggy Stardust’s ragged, prancing riffs and just-for-you fireside strumming with a first-band-ever, irreverent post-punk zeal. Bruised with the loss and longing of their once-elegant seaside hometown of Brighton, the Kooks find comfort in a uniquely English pub sing-along camaraderie and the happy-go-lucky stomp of glitter-spattered glam. Super-prolific (two albums in 18 months and claiming to have written “80 or 90” songs for Konk), they headline the Wiltern tonight entirely on merit. (Paul Rogers)