In the clubs

Wednesday, June 10

Thirty years is an eon in the world of popular music, so when faced with a band like The Church, who’ve pumped out 23 albums in that period, one might assume they’ve settled into Stones territory, the sound of complacent retreads littering their latest turd of a record. But few bands have done it with such innovation for as long as these Aussies, and even if they’re best known in the States for the elegant late-’80s single “Under the Milky Way,” they practically define the concept of having a deep catalog. Swervedriver head honcho and badass songwriter Adam Franklin supports the legendary atmospheric rockers at Belly Up Tavern ($25).

Thursday, June 11

Punk has been dead for a loooong time now, but you gotta hand it to Jay Reatard for pulling a Re-Animator and injecting the genre with a serum so potent, it comes kicking and thrashing back to life with murderous rage. Reatard has serious chops—he claims to have written more than 900 songs—and his live performances are becoming the stuff of legend. No lame banter with the audience, no cheap gimmicks and, most importantly, no bullshit—just all kill and thrill. And although I haven’t heard it yet, Thee Oh Sees’ latest, Help, is supposed to be the San Francisco garage psychos’ finest to date. Along with Arizona’s Earthmen & Strangers, the triumvirate gets busy diggin’ up corpses at The Casbah ($12).

Friday, June 12

Much like guitar sorceress and fellow looker Kaki King, Brooklyn’s Kelli Rudick absolutely shreds on the acoustic guitar. But it’s one thing to whip off pentatonic solos like anyone else; it’s quite another to create a new musical language with your instrument. It truly must be seen to be believed. Local bands Manuok, JFK and Team Abraham will be staring along with you in awe after their sets at Ruby Room.

Saturday, June 13

I came way late to the Bauhaus party. Erroneously relegating the gloomy Brits to the shamed “goth band” status during my teenage years, it wasn’t until my early 20s that I realized how large an influence they had on many of my favorite groups—at which point it became a must to investigate their catalog. Although he wasn’t a part of the subsequent (and awesome) Tones on Tail or Love & Rockets, ex-Bauhaus frontman Peter Murphy has nevertheless had an interesting solo career, filled with curious footnotes like taking part in some of the most pretentious art-rock ever made (Dali’s Car) and scraping the bottom of the U.S. singles chart with “Cuts You Up” in the early ’90s. Murphy serenades the pale masses at ’Canes ($25).

Monday, June 15

Garage rock. San Diego just can’t get enough of the stuff. So when a 21-year-old phenom like Ty Segall comes to town, you can bet audiences will eat it up like a plate of rolled tacos fresh outta the fryer. Segall’s forthcoming full-length, Lemons, is packed with the sort of raw excitement that could only come from someone not old enough to be jaded about what he does, and I’ll be damned if it doesn’t benefit both the artist and the listener. The album smokes, and from the YouTube clips I’ve seen, so do his live shows. Segall performs with local redneck rocker Pant Hoots at Bar Pink.

Tuesday, June 16

It’s estimated that Jamaican drummer Sly Dunbar and bassist Robbie Shakespeare have performed together on anywhere from 50,000 to 200,000 recorded tracks since 1975, which would make them the most prolific musicians in the history of the world. Do the math. They would have to complete more than four songs a day, every day, for all of the 34 years they’ve worked together. Yet, their insane productivity is commonly accepted as fact, and with a résumé that includes work with Bob Dylan, The Rolling Stones, Sting, Ben Harper, No Doubt, Peter Tosh, Black Uhuru, Gregory Isaacs and more, Sly & Robbie have not only altered the course of reggae music, but also the course of pop music as a whole. Can’t argue with that. The duo brings the rub-a-dub style to World Beat Center with support from their band Taxi Gang, as well as Heavyweight Dub Champion, Quinazo and Roots Covenant ($15).

There’s something about the deliberate appropriation of African music by Western artists that’s always irked me. Be it Talking Heads or Vampire Weekend, it usually feels forced—bastardized versions of expressive musical works, diluted for easy digestion by pseudo-intellectuals and people who do whatever NPR suggests. Not that I’m claiming to be an expert on Nigerian Juju musician King Sunny Ade, but better to find out about his groundbreaking use of pedal steel guitar on my own than take recommendations from David Byrne. Less funky, but sunnier and less angry than Fela Kuti’s more familiar Afrobeat, this performance from the legend himself ensures your schooling comes straight from the source. At Belly Up Tavern ($25).