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Tonight's Show Suggestions


Stephen Malkmus, "Phantasies"

Book of Black Earth, Black Dahlia Murder, Soilent Green, Misery Index at El Corazon, 7 p.m., $15, all ages

As the band's name suggests, Book of Black Earth would rather read the Necronomicon than the Bible. But for the new disc Horoskopus, the group's members spent significant time perusing religious reference materials, if only to build a persuasive concept-album case for Christianity being a fraudulent appropriation of pagan astrological beliefs. Anti-religion stances are prevalent in the extreme-music scene, but few groups study enough to give their heresy intellectual weight. Book of Black Earth's diverse sound, which branches into slow-churning doom, fuzzily symphonic black metal and crusty thrash, also seems like the result of comprehensive research, as though these alchemists poured luminous vials of each unstable element into a bubbling cauldron. TJ Cowgill stretches words like they're on a torture rack, dragging the single syllable "die" across vast, foreboding musical terrain. The rhythm section plants a low-end anchor, which carves a gash in the mire when the grinding guitars propel the ship into motion. The other acts on this bill surpass Book of Black Earth's speed, but none of them are as capable of setting a densely ominous mood, or educating the moshing throng on the folly of sun-god worship. ANDREW MILLER

Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks at Neumos, 8 p.m., $17

"The Jicks is funky music. They is a powerhouse." So it says in the artwork that accompanies this third offering from Stephen Malkmus' post-Pavement outfit. On first glance at said artwork, with its nonsensical collages — not to mention the beginning of opening number "Dragonfly Pie," which drips with midtempo big-rock guitar fuzz — you might think MalkĀ­mus has aimed his time machine at 1994 for another whirl through the vibe of Pavement's Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain. But Malkmus, as it turns out, doesn't have nostalgia on his mind. It might've been hard to imagine at the time of Pavement's tragic fade-out, but life as a "solo" act has been good for Malkmus' creativity. As far as this-bird-is-flown artists go, he's on a short list of ones who've put their fan base through the least frustration. That's because — a-ha! — he's only pretending to fly solo. Originally conceived as a band until Matador pressured Malkmus into adding his name to the marquee, the Jicks have perfectly preserved the spirit of Pavement in spite of fundamental differences. Pavement was arguably never about becoming a band, but about somehow forcing a bundle of rough edges into raggedly glorious music instead. The Jicks, however, can't disguise their elegance, no matter how much they rough it up for aesthetic effect. And like a soup whose ingredients come together the longer it sits, Malkmus' influences — piano-driven blue-eyed soul, touches of Santana, the Who, garage rock, etc. — have jelled so well that you don't even notice he's re-invented himself. SABY REYES-KULKAMI

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