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 Malkmus 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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