Music Picks: Aesop Rock, Azealia Banks, Toots & the Maytals

fri 7/13

PHOTO BY SHERVIN LAINEZ

Amanda Palmer: See Wednesday.

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Aesop Rock

EL REY THEATRE

A heavy hitter in the early-aughts' onslaught of brainy indie-rap word-slingers, Aesop Rock now is 15 years into a nearly blemishless career. This New York native and San Fran transplant is celebrated for his nearly unmatched ability to braid colorful verbiage into delightfully euphonic lyrical daisy chains. He's an absolute master of alliteration and assonance blessed with Lewis Carroll's ability to turn nonsense phrases into poetic fodder. ("Who am I? Jabberwocky superfly," he declares on 2001's classic Labor Days.) Aes is also a moody, blessed beat-maker, and has spent the past five years lurking on collaborative projects (e.g., Hail Mary Mallon with tonight's support, Rob Sonic). Thankfully, his brand-new LP, Skelethon, makes up for lost time, delivering a full monty of noisy head-knockers, tastefully scrambled verse and, fans will be happy to hear, his most personal, poignant writing in a decade. —Chris Martins

Codeine

THE ECHOPLEX

Back in the '90s, NYC's Codeine fairly invented slo-core, a slow-moving, high-decibel genre that was solidified when bands like Low and Bedhead and others got a little more acclaim for it. Codeine's Sub-Pop records Frigid Stars, Barely Real and The White Birch were, actually, unclassifiable works of generally very spare and disciplined-sounding music, with an emphasis on space-between-notes and a masterful use of dynamics. With fuzz/distortion and a brutal drum thump, they made a supremely heavy impact not just for the sheer loudness but also for the towering majesty of it all. The trio is doing select dates to call attention to the three double-disc vinyl reissues and box set the Numero Group label is putting out. Check the merch table, cultists, it's beautiful stuff. —John Payne

Slumgum

LACMA

Props to this Friday summer series for programming an adventurous band predictably unknown to the swarms of mainstream jazz fans who normally attend. The L.A.-based group recently generated some buzz both locally and nationally, using collaborations with vocalist Dwight Trible and pianist Art Lande to help it escape the hive of jazz anonymity. Trumpeter Hugh Ragin is the guest here, having stung audiences with his brilliance as a worker bee in the bands of free-jazz pioneers Anthony Braxton, Roscoe Mitchell and David Murray. Alternately groovy or crazy-free, Slumgum's sound could be unpalatable for some, but there's just enough sweetness to help it go down easy. Considering the band's name comes from the crap that remains on the honeycomb after the honey is extracted, their music really is the shit. —Gary Fukushima

India Adams

CATALINA BAR & GRILL

India Adams doesn't appear in even one frame of The Band Wagon and Torch Song, and her name is nowhere to be found in the credits, but neither of these beloved MGM musicals would feel as classic without the key participation of the California native. Cyd Charisse and Joan Crawford were the respective stars of these early-1950s flicks, but their singing parts were secretly dubbed by Adams, who belted out memorable renditions of "New Sun in the Sky" and, with Fred Astaire, "That's Entertainment." Now 86 years old, this longtime Valley girl has a pure, radiant voice that purrs with a sultry and soulful jazziness on tunes like "Comfort Me With Apples." In recent interviews, she has described herself as "a walking, talking, singing antique," but she's far more than just one of the last remaining connections to MGM's heyday — Adams still has it. Also Sat. —Falling James

Sonny and the Sunsets

ECHO

Sonny Smith is a very prolific, Bay Area–based singer-songwriter and a playwright, too. He's got this swinging folk-pop-rock combo, Sonny & the Sunsets, and they've made records like Hit After Hit, where you get to hear Sonny croon melodically on a bunch of '50s- and early '60s–flavored rock & roll that swoons and rocks and tears the roof off the sucka, etc. Basically, fella writes great songs, he performs them with inspired, fresh zest and unjaded uncoolness, and none of it's corny or dumb. And that's the case with Sonny's new Longtime Companion record, too, in which Sonny, having recently suffered a broken heart, decided to deal with the most appropriate musical approach, which would be, of course, country & western. It's lonesome, moany stuff, a Burrito Bros./J. Cash world, where soaking in the misery feels pretty good. And it still sounds like Sonny. —John Payne

Also playing:

VAN EXEL at Pehrspace; HOWARD JONES at Canyon Club.

sat 7/14

Azealia Banks

THE FONDA

Listen, Nicki Minaj can rap circles around most of the boys even without mesmerizing them with her blowup-doll image, and we respect that. But the badass-Barbie act feels a little manufactured, which is why Azealia Banks, another rapper from Harlem, has us giddy. First, she shocked the blogosphere by chanting, "I guess that cunt getting eaten," all of 30 seconds into the song "212." Then, she proceeded to rumble with a couple big dogs in the rap game before she'd paid her dues and without making even the slightest attempt to sex up the feistiness. The gall! And thank God for it. It was about time a young firecracker who doesn't give a fuck and isn't interested in flirting stormed the boys' club that is hip-hop. Oh, and did we mention she's ripped every track she's released? Tonight, she's throwing a "Mermaid Ball" with fellow spitfire Maluca, Oakland one-to-watch Gita and dark pop diva Charli XCX. Be on your best behavior, boys. —Rebecca Haithcoat