HAROULA ROSE AT HOTEL CAFÉ
Chicago-bred, L.A.-based singer-songwriter Haroula Rose's self-released These Open Roads is a deceptively easy-on-the-ears debut that launches Rose as a triple threat: a deft and resourceful melodicist, a subtly superb acoustic guitar crafter and a distinctly winsome vocal presence. Hers are timeless tales of loneliness and bad breakups — goodbye to the past and what does the future hold? — and while this particular palette of fear, cheers and sneers of course could be a shopworn recipe for maudlin moping in lesser hands, in hers it's used as an opportunity to revel in the fascination of creation. The album's comforting though intriguingly troubling originals (and a bewitching version of Mason Jennings' "Duluth") are painted in evocative tones by a sterling cast of steel guitar players, harmonizing singers and multi-instrumentalist/producer Andy Lemaster. (John Payne)
Touche Amore. See Sunday.
Night Horse. See Thursday.
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Also playing Tuesday: TAPE DECK MOUNTAIN, EVAN VOYTAS, HANDS at Silverlake Lounge.
WEDNESDAY/JANUARY/19
BETONTANC, UMKA.LV WITH SILENCE AT REDCAT
Slovenia's theater-dance ensemble Betontanc ("Concrete Dance") gathers musicians, dancers, actors and costume and stage designers together in darkly humorous (and psychologically searing) conceptual works that forgo the tedious verbal spew of trad performance art to focus on the sheer physicality of the human body. Betontanc's creations are charming, strange, scary and itchily amusing. Tonight's performance of the inspiringly low-tech Show Your Face! features dancers collaborating with the Latvian "object-theater" (puppeteering) crew UMKA.LV and Slovenian electronic/other soundscapists Silence. The aggregated artists enact the odyssey of Little Branko, an empty snowsuit — a "faceless Everyman" — who comes to life and confronts the craggy, tangled, bleak and hopeless past and future of the 20th century. Synergistic power accrues in this work, a large part of whose touching effect owes to the piano/toy-synth/vibes/voice score by Silence, written in collaboration with Latvian musician Ugis Vitins. Runs Jan. 19-23. (John Payne)
DASHBOARD CONFESSIONAL, CHRIS CONLEY, LADY DANVILLE, JOHN LEFTER AT THE TROUBADOUR
"Don't knock it until you've tried it!" holds surprisingly true for a Dashboard Confessional gig. There's a reason the Boca Raton, Fla., emo kings are doing three nights in a row, and that reason is predominantly the intense magnetism of singer Chris Carrabba. He's handsomely coiffed and can hold one helluva note, and when he opens his mouth, he sings with a chorus of eternally angsty lovelorn youth backing him (that last bit isn't meant metaphorically). Every single song at a Dashboard show is an opportunity for a sing-along, and everyone in the audience knows every word. Creepily cultish? Yes, but Carrabba and his bandmates reciprocate with pitch-perfect playing, intimate moments and odd keepsakes (e.g., an egg shaker engraved with a download code for the set). The fact that this tour is in honor of the 10th anniversary of Swiss Army Romance, Dashboard's beloved breakthrough, makes it the one to see. Just be sure to bring your own Kool-Aid. (Chris Martins)
Also playing Wednesday: FOSTER THE PEOPLE at the Echo.
THURSDAY/JANUARY/20
ABE VIGODA, LORD HURON WITH THE CALDER QUARTET, GAMBLE HOUSE AT THE AUTRY
If No Age is the superstar act of the Smell scene and Mika Miko represents the greatness that almost was, then Abe Vigoda is the hardworking band of bootstrap-pullers, ever grinding in the background to ensure their own longevity. Their 2010 album, Crush, is their fourth, and it finds the four-piece pushing its previously pigeonholed sound ("tropical punk," which they were damn good at) into new domains — namely the cold-wave spheres that singer Michael Vidal dipped into whenever he let his voice quaver and drop an octave. Expect things to be tightly wound but also sprawling. Local up-and-comer Lord Huron also will be spreading out, though more physically, as it's expanding its membership to include esteemed string players the Calder Quartet. The band's beachy loping Western-tinged pop should sound excellent emanating from the Autry's courtyard. Opener Gamble House will be a treat, too — the young L.A. outfit sounds a lot like Grizzly Bear, which is never a bad thing. (Chris Martins)
NIGHT HORSE AT THE ECHO
Night Horse escape L.A.'s soulless strip malls, cheeseball clubs and douchebag materialism with musical trips to a musty mid-1970s roadhouse where brawls are taken out back and early Aerosmith, ZZ Top and Allman Brothers own the jukebox. This is quality electric boogie blues that at its best ("Good Bye Gone") evokes the desperate desert rawk of Deliverance-era Corrosion of Conformity, and even at its worst ("Rollin' On") at least serves plenty of meat with its potatoes. Night Horse's conversing guitars and deceptively slinky grooves would be little more than a vehicle for vintage gear without the wonderfully grained, patchouli-stained vocals of ex-Bluebird frontman Sam James Velde (his swagger, though, makes up for his sometimes clichéd lyrics and histrionics). (Paul Rogers)
NIKKA COSTA AT THE ROXY
Nikka Costa ruffled more than a few feathers with the single off her upcoming album, PRO*WHOA!, "Ching Ching Ching." Sounding more like a Paris Hilton cut (complete with a "hot-hot-hot-hot-hot" refrain), the song's a major departure from the slinky brand of soul Costa became known for back with 2001's Everybody Got Their Something and hits "Like a Feather" and the title track. But having been in the business since she was old enough to walk (her father, producer Don Costa, is the legendary arranger for Tony Bennett and Frank Sinatra), Nikka is a smart cookie: On a closer listen, the chorus repeats, "We're gonna make history/revolutionary mediocrity." PRO*WHOA! does migrate into poppier territory, but her voice, breathy on the Prince-inspired "Head First" and throaty on the electro-rock "Nylons in a Rip," is expressive enough to rise above radio bubble gum and reassure her fan base. (Rebecca Haithcoat)