WEDNESDAY, APRIL 1
The Rakes at the Troubadour
It’s difficult to pinpoint exactly what it is about the Rakes that sets the group apart from the other youthful, ale-swilling U.K. bands that made their debut in the early ’00s. They wear stripy shirts, prefer their music slightly art-damaged but danceable, and sing about the pub crawl with a mix of humor and disdain. Cue the queue: Bloc Party, the Futureheads, Art Brut, Maxïmo Park, Razorlight ... the list could go on, but the Rakes rise above the pack. Or rather, they sink below it in the best way. Singer Alan Donohoe is easily the biggest self-loather in the bunch, and songs like the Rakes’ breakout workaday anti-anthem, “22 Grand Job,” excel at illustrating the nuanced murk found at the bottom of life’s sludgier gutters. Fittingly, the band’s music is a hair punker, too, owing more to their Whitechapel mates the Libertines than, say, Franz Ferdinand. They appear here behind their third album, Klang, which finds the Rakes as cynically club-ready as ever. (Chris Martins)
Also playing Wednesday:
WHITE DENIM, THE PAINS OF BEING PURE AT HEART at Spaceland; GAVIN DEGRAW at El Rey Theatre.
THURSDAY, APRIL 2
Bill Frisell at Skirball Cultural Center
Bill Frisell’s Disfarmer Project: Musical Portraits from Heber Springs features the madly eclectic ax titan swinging low in gently avant-garde acoustic mode. Joined by an interestingly chosen combo of players, each of whom is his equal in the chameleonic nongenre stakes — charismatic violinist Jenny Scheinman, steel-guitar ace Greg Leisz and bassist Viktor Krauss — Frisell performs a new suite inspired by the life and work of photographer Mike Disfarmer (1884-1959), a near-mythical character best known for his poignant and harrowing photographs of country life in Arkansas during the Depression. Heavily inspired by Frisell’s own roots in Ozark fiddle music, the Disfarmer sounds draw, as usual, upon a panoply of trad and futuristic American musical modes, from rock to jazz to the burnished, airy soundscapes in between. (John Payne)
Lily Allen at the Wiltern
British songbird Lily Allen is catty, vain, self-centered, insecure, overly obsessed about her image, and continues the nasty habit of publicly exposing her boyfriends’ sexual inadequacies on her latest CD, It’s Not Me, It’s You — yet in the end, she still manages to come off as charming. This time around, she collaborated with The Bird & the Bee’s Greg Kurstin, who played all of the guitars and keyboards and produced and co-wrote most of the album’s songs. Gone are the sunny, buoyantly lilting ska-pop stylings of Allen’s 2006 CD, Alright, Still ... , replaced by the gauzy electronica of “Back to the Start” and the new-wave shimmer of “The Fear.” There are occasional tunes like “22” and “He Wasn’t There” that evoke the joy of The Bird & the Bee’s retro pop, but much of the time Kurstin’s backing sounds surprisingly anonymous. It’s up to Allen, then, to provide a few sparks, enlivening the bland setting of “Him” with witty asides (“I don’t imagine he’s ever been suicidal/His favourite band is Creedence Clearwater Revival”). The jaunty pomp of “Fuck You” is contrasted by her cheerily rude lyrics, and she raises a smile on “The Fear” when she confesses to being “a weapon of massive consumption.” (Falling James)
Also playing Thursday:
TIFT MERRITT, MIRANDA LEE RICHARDS at Largo at the Coronet; JASON ISBELL, JUSTIN TOWNES EARLE at Spaceland; JEREMY JAY at the Smell; BONNIE PRINCE BILLY at El Rey Theatre (see music feature); OMAR SOSA at the Jazz Bakery.
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