thursday10

Thursday10

 Bobby Conn Jessica Lea Mayfield

Friday11

The Church The Eternals Gang of Four

Saturday12

Frank FairfieldInterpolCedric Wilson

sunday13

Frank Fairfield Jeannie Holliday Pacifica Quartet

monday14

 Trey Songz Robyn

tuesday15

 Deerhoof

Wednesday16

Max Bemis

THE CHURCH You could say that this Australian quartet, formed in 1980, took a long time to hit their stride—or you could say that they’ve hit plenty of strides over the years, and probably aren’t done evolving yet. Their process of trial and error has always been fascinating to watch: They started out bright-eyed and mystical, a lite neo-psych band bearing Rickenbackers and playing with a tunefulness that got them compared to fellow upstarts R.E.M. and U2. A few years later they started showing a bitter streak, and by the early 90s you could almost hear them muttering “fuck it” as they stretched out into a relatively free and improvisatory-feeling psychedelic sound. The Church have never broken up or had a reunion tour, but they do like their retrospectives—they’ve put out an impressive number of reissues and compilations. For this U.S. tour they’re doing the “play a classic album all the way through” thing, except turning it up to 11. They’ll play three albums each night: 2009’s Untitled #23, 1992’s Priest = Aura, and 1988’s Starfish (the band’s breakthrough record and the source of the single “Under the Milky Way”). 8 PM, Park West, 322 W. Armitage, 773-929-5959, $32.50, 18+. —Monica Kendrick

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INTERPOL Interpol’s 2002 album, Turn On the Bright Lights, is a perfect example of a great record that comes out at exactly the right time–its excellent songs, framed by glossy black sonics, clicked perfectly with an American rock audience apparently primed to go batshit crazy over Joy Division a couple of decades after the UK. It’s no surprise that the band has attempted to recapture that lightning-in-a-bottle moment with each subsequent release—or that they’ve failed every time. However, Interpol’s most recent effort, a self-titled full-length released in September by Matador, comes closest to matching their debut. While their past couple records have felt like desperate attempts to hang onto their cachet, on Interpol they return to crafting satiny, gothic baby-making music with their trademark rarefied cool. School of Seven Bells opens. 8 PM, Riviera Theatre, 4746 N. Racine, 773-275-6800, sold out. —Miles Raymer

PACIFICA QUARTET Shostakovich’s 15 string quartets, played in a series of five concerts by the Pacifica Quartet at the Auditorium Building’s Ganz Hall—the perfect storm of composer, ensemble, and venue—make for one centerpiece of the ongoing citywide Soviet Arts Experience festival, presenting art, dance, music, theater, and lectures through early 2012. (A Pacifica Shostakovich cycle is also in progress at New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art, with London’s Wigmore Hall to follow; a recording is due on Cedille Records.) Shostakovich’s music, inseparable from his life, is inevitably viewed through the prism of Soviet repression and, in the case of his later output, debilitating illness. His quartets are some of his most personal works—often disturbing, possessed of a tremendous pull, and so potent that it’s easy not to notice how well crafted they are. At this concert, the fourth in the series, the Pacifica plays the quartets numbered 7, 10, 11, and 12. Unlike Beethoven’s, Shostakovich’s quartets don’t neatly fall into groups, but in the later works his writing becomes increasingly austere, though with an expanded and more modern musical language. The virile 12th quartet, written as the composer was perhaps already feeling death’s approach, contains a final burst of life. (The closing program of the series, Sun 2/27, will consist of the final three quartets, beginning with the achingly bleak 13th and culminating with the otherworldly six adagios of the 15th.) Shostakovich’s writing rewards the Pacifica’s strong individual voices. The players’ delivery is rich but taut, and though it’s perhaps not perfectly suited to the eeriness and desolation in these works, it’s nonetheless powerfully emotionally charged. Preconcert lectures by Henry Fogel and William Hussey are at 1 and 6 PM. 2 and 7 PM, Ganz Hall, Roosevelt University, 430 S. Michigan, 312-341-2238, $35, $10 student rush tickets. —Steve Langendorf

DEERHOOF In the cover story from the February issue of the Wire, the four members of Deerhoof talk so differently about the making of the new Deerhoof vs Evil (Polyvinyl) that it’s hard to believe they’re all referring to the same album. Bassist and singer Satomi Matsuzaki says they used deliberate rhythmic experimentation, with everyone playing drums, in hopes of making their music more danceable. Drummer Greg Saunier makes the process sound like a free-for-all—everyone brought songs, he says, and everybody shredded everybody else’s ideas, with no plan to guide them and no studio time to focus their efforts. Guitarist John Dieterich explains that he chose to emphasize the “ugly” and “garbage” sounds of his instrument, and fellow guitarist Ed Rodriguez praises the same creative chaos Saunier seems to think is a little absurd—he’s impressed by the way his bandmates can separate criticism of ideas from criticisms of one another. Personally, I think the difficulty Deerhoof must have in reconciling their disparate viewpoints into coherent musical statements is a big part of why they’re one of my favorite bands—hard work and open, searching minds make for reliably great records. On Deerhoof vs Evil, the massive backbeat of “Qui Dorm, Només Somia” provides only one of many ways to parse the meter—the band slathers on polyrhythms created with guitars, keyboards, and hand percussion to create competing accents and subdivisions, pitting stumble against swing and burble against stomp. “No One Asked to Dance” veers toward late-60s psych-pop, with acoustic guitars, organ, and brushed drums supporting Matsuzaki’s delicate, gorgeous vocal melody. The music retains Deerhoof’s signature collision of fractured post-Beefheart rock and sugar-sweet hooks, but that dichotomy has never sounded more natural. They connect the two poles of their aesthetic with such playfulness and imagination that their music isn’t just fascinating—it’s also incredibly fun. Ben Butler & Mousepad and D. Rider open. 8 PM, Bottom Lounge, 1375 W. Lake, 312-666-6775 or 866-468-3401, $15, 17+. —Peter Margasak