RECOMMENDED

In the years since Netherlands collective The Ex first debuted, in 1979, the band has gone through admirable, always interesting stylistic changes. Venturing beyond the in-your-grill anarchist punk that the group embraced in its infant stages, The Ex have involved jazz elements, African percussion and even Turkish folk. Influential, beloved in a cult-like way, The Ex continually churned out records under leader G.W. Sok’s guidance with striking consistency, considering how many different paths the band explored. Last year, Sok decided to leave the group to pursue other interests, and the band replaced him with Arnold de Boer. The recent release with Boer, a seven-inch titled “Maybe I Was the Pilot/Our Leaky Homes,” shows that even with a new guy at the helm, The Ex remains powerful. Shellac opens, and honestly, the stamp of approval from Albini, Trainer and Weston should be enough to convince anyone. I’m in the middle of a personal Shellac resurgence, listening to each record over and over for three days apiece, and having a helluva time. “1000 Hurts” is king. That record is one mean bastard. (Tom Lynch)

March 20 at Lincoln Hall, 2424 N. Lincoln, (773)5252501, at 10pm. $15.

RECOMMENDED

There’s something about London duo The Big Pink that is a little lame. The elementary lyrics, the traditional chord progressions or melodies, the big-room choruses—something here is not quite right for a band with such a pristine electro shoegaze surface sound. The band garnered huge buzz before its debut record was released last September on the strength of some early singles, which was deserved, as the first material introduced to the public was especially convincing. “A Brief History of Love,” The Big Pink’s debut proper, has a lot of attractive pieces that don’t exactly come together. A song like “Velvet” works casually, as it can simply ride its own wave of ethereal beauty. But “Dominos,” another single, is painfully silly, and detracts from the record considerably. Of course, you can’t really blame a band just getting started for not making a perfect record. It’s a fine first attempt, one that shows promise for strong moves in the future. A Place to Bury Strangers plays tonight as well, which makes this bill a full-on shoegaze party, with the band’s intensely loud and hazy distortion sure to deafen those unexpecting. Chicago’s industrial dance crew Gatekeeper opens, which should get this crowd to loosen up a bit. Maybe not even stare at their shoes the whole time. Maybe. (Tom Lynch)

March 20 at Metro, 3730 N. Clark, (773)549-0203, at 9pm. $16.

RECOMMENDED

A songwriter who receives nowhere near the attention that he deserves, Ted Leo and his Pharmacists have churned out solid records and EPs over the last ten or so years with a rare consistency. Each release as pleasing and invigorating as the last, Leo’s been indie-rock’s conscience for some time, delivering highly politicized material with appropriate, contagious anger. Live, the band’s always been exceptional, from large stages like at Lollapalooza to tiny ones like Hideout, where I saw the band play a midnight secret show some years back, the fantastic memory of which pops into my head more often than it probably should. “The Brutalist Bricks,” the band’s new record and first for Matador, continues the powerful Leo trend of compiling excellently constructed pop gems infused with punk-rock wrath. The album’s at least as effective as “Living with the Living,” the 2007 record Leo did for Chicago’s Touch & Go. He may never top the incredible work he did on “The Tyranny of Distance” or “Hearts of Oak,” but we’re all better off with a Ted Leo continually making records. (Tom Lynch)

Ted Leo & The Pharmacists play March 13 at Bottom Lounge, 1375 W. Lake, (312)666-6775, at 7pm.

RECOMMENDED

There’s something that’s entirely intoxicating about New York trio Vivian Girls, something that goes far beyond traditional girl-group mystique—the band’s songwriting is especially simplistic, their musicianship primitive, structures and melodies just so high school. But with the debut self-titled record and last fall’s “Everything Goes Wrong,” Vivian Girls have presented their garage-shoegaze sound unapologetically and with ample attitude, creating two records so easily listenable it sometimes makes you uneasy. The disappointing part so far—if there really is one—is that with their second offering, Vivian Girls didn’t try terribly hard to take a big step forward. The production level has risen, as the overall dangerously lo-fi sound of the first record is all but abandoned, but that fuzzy and hissy element gave that record some of its charm. “Everything Goes Wrong” sounds relatively professional, which draws even more attention to the band’s songwriting, which isn’t a good thing. But I’m admittedly being nitpicky, as you can’t really argue too much with a young band who were possibly thrown too soon into the spotlight from deafening blog buzz. Either way, I expect more good things from these girls. (Tom Lynch)

Vivian Girls play March 12 at Subterranean, 2011 W. North, (773)278-6799, at 9:30pm. $12.

RECOMMENDED

Local duo My Gold Mask shapes spooky futuristic tribal anthems dotted with nods to early-nineties alternative-rock. It’s experimentalism with hooks, as singer Gretta Rochelle’s often-soaring voice battles the brain. Song “Violet Eyes” boasts a rather infectious chorus melody that’ll soundtrack your day, at least in your head. “I like shooting arrows in the dark,” Rochelle sings, and it feels as if she’s blindly taken aim at your sanity. The dark mood and gothic tones work as well, even when the two-piece lurks around dance-rock territory, like on “Bitches.” (“Leave your bitches at the door,” Rochelle demands of us.) My Gold Mask creates some interesting material that’s not easy to put your finger on; seeing it live might help, and the band plays a free Monday night show at Bottle before heading off for South By Southwest. (Tom Lynch)

My Gold Mask plays March 15 at Empty Bottle, 1035 N. Western, at 9pm. Free.

By Duke Shin

It’s a cold winter night in February, but inside the Double Door is the kind of heat you only find in cold-weather places, where body heat and anticipation fog glasses, and taking them off to give a quick wipe only makes you realize that your vision is still obscured with the air thick with smoke—did we mention it’s pre-smoking-ban 2004? The house is packed for a reunion performance of Chicago’s Urge Overkill, and Jack Black is on stage with the band, hammering a cowbell to “Sister Havana,” in a surreal rock ‘n’ roll moment—after all, Black’s Tenacious D had already whipped the unsuspecting crowd into a frenzy with their secret opening slot.

“The planets aligned, and it was just one of those magical fucking evenings that could only happen in Chicago,” recalls UO’s Nash Kato via phone from Los Angeles, where he’s hiding from the cold. Read the rest of this entry »

RECOMMENDED

West Palm Beach indie-rock band Surfer Blood achieved buzz-band status with 2009 single “Swim,” a high-energy pop jaunt that survives off of power-chord youthfulness. The band’s debut record, “Astro Coast,” a sweethearted hybrid of Weezer’s first album, Built to Spill’s “There’s Nothing Wrong with Love” and a dumbed-down Vampire Weekend, lives up to the potential the band showed with that first song. “Swim,” which leads off the record here, is hardly the collection’s high mark. On “Floating Vibes,” singer John Paul Pitts sounds so much like Rivers Cuomo one might actually mistake him for the introverted-pop madman, but, somehow, it works—the sheer joy of music Surfer Blood exudes could make the meanest curmudgeon bob his head and smile. Lyrically, Surfer Blood’s post-college malaise takes the driver’s seat; not exactly unpredictable territory for a band such as this, but certainly not unforgivable. The clean-guitar dovetail orchestra of “Neighbor Riffs” is an inspired move; a brief, quickly paced surfer jam in the middle of the record to remind everyone that not all’s been lost along the way. This is a party, after all. (Tom Lynch)

March 10 at Schubas, 3159 N. Southport, (773)525-2508, at 9pm. $10-$12.

Pacific Northwest singer-songwriter Rocky Votolato has maintained a remarkable consistency during his more-than-ten-year solo career. While fronting power-emo group Waxwing he released his minimalist, melancholy self-titled debut in 1999; Waxwing released its last record in 2002, but Votolato continued to make records under his own name—2003’s “Suicide Medicine” and 2006’s “Makers,” one Second Nature Recordings and the other on Barsuk, were highlights. Over time Votolato slowly increased his sound with full-band accompaniment, and also got away from the somber acoustic blood-letting and moved more towards rock-folk and even country, embracing his Texas roots.

Votolato is a family man now with a wife and two kids, and on “True Devotion,” his brand new record for Barsuk, he takes a step back and slows the pace, offering songs with little more than just his voice and his guitar-playing. A subtly hopeful record, devastatingly pretty, “True Devotion” was the result of a year-long battle Votolato had with isolation and depression. Read the rest of this entry »

RECOMMENDED

Often mistaken for actually being from Glasgow, this dream-pop company hails from Philadelphia. Pairing ambient shoegaze atmosphere with electronic beats and heavenly vocal harmonies, the band’s two full-length records have been artistic successes if not quite homeruns. The group’s EPs have been impressive too, and their most recent, “Nitetime Rainbows,” will be released the first week of March. While the band has enough talent to one day create an astounding record from start to finish, it hasn’t yet; the group does seem to be leaning more towards minimalist techno and away from traditional rock these days, and it suits them well. But that doesn’t mean A Sunny Day in Glasgow can’t be unbelievably frustrating—every time a song seems to be approaching a moment of stunning beauty, the band backs off and injects some sampled weirdness. Live, though, this is all said to be a treat. (Tom Lynch)

March 3 at Schubas, 3159 N. Southport, (773)525-2508, at 9pm. $8-$10.

RECOMMENDED

They are called The Sandwitches. They have an album, and it’s called “How to Make Ambient Sadcake.” Honestly, just on paper, it’s a struggle to determine if there’s anything not to like. The San Francisco three-piece combines DIY bedroom-sound with sixties girl-group pop. The songs are lo-fi but bursting with pop-songwriting talent—a bit like the Vivian Girls, actually, with less distortion and shoegaze haze. The vocal harmonies that The Sandwitches display are beautiful and strangely haunting—this is like a band that only exists in dreams or David Lynch films. The low quality of the production actually charms this time, as opposed to the growing trend of actually forcing your music to sound like shit, a la Wavves. The songs that feature organ, like “Beatle Screams,” will stay with you for days,” and the straight-up oldies-station-sounding “Back to the Sea” could’ve soundtracked Marty McFly’s first visit to 1955 Hill Valley, instead of “Mr. Sandman.” If The Sandwitches don’t do too much after this record—not saying they are incapable, or that they don’t already have epic plans for the future—”How to Make Ambient Sadcake” has cult record written all over it. (Tom Lynch)

February 28 at Empty Bottle, 1035 N. Western, (773)276-3600, 9:30pm. $3.