thursday4
Thursday4
Squish
Friday5
Ani Aznavoorian & Lera AuerbachSquishRichard Thompson Band
Saturday6
Masaki BatohGeorge JonesJunip, Sharon Van EttenGidon Kremer & Kremerata BalticaGert-Jan Prins & Bas Van Koolwijk
Sunday7
Devin Townsend ProjectWatainWithered
Monday8
Nile
Wednesday10
MoondoggiesMarnie Stern
friday5
RICHARD THOMPSON BAND Folk-rock legend Richard Thompson may or may not have realized that many of the records he’s put out over the past couple of decades suffer from studio-born fussiness, but either way his decision to cut the superb new Dream Attic (Shout Factory) in front of live audiences was a smart one. When he skewers the financial industry (“The Money Shuffle”) or the sanctimony of Sting (“Here Comes Geordie,” which is full of lines like “Good old Geordie, righteous as can be / Cut down the forest just to save a tree”) he seems charged with extra vitriol, and narrative songs like “Crimescene” and “Sidney Wells” are cinematic and genuinely suspenseful. A few tunes draw on his deep roots in British folk, but as good as those tracks are, they still make me wish Joel Zifkin weren’t playing an electric violin and that Pete Zorn would trade in his saxophones for a shawm. The best thing about the album is how much guitar playing Thompson does; of the British rock guitarists who emerged in the late 60s, he’s my favorite, and here his biting, focused improvisations teem with tightly coiled, magically gnarled phrases. 8 PM, the Vic, 3145 N. Sheffield, 773-472-0449 or 866-448-7849, $32.50. —Peter Margasak
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GEORGE JONES It’s easy to let the mythology of George Jones overshadow his music. Few mortal men, when faced with an empty booze cabinet, an eight-mile drive to the closest liquor store, and his car keys hidden by a worried wife, would make the trip by riding mower. Fewer still would do it again. But it’s worth reminding yourself that Jones is one of the all-time great male country vocalists, possibly second only to Hank Sr. He can make a song bleed emotion, and on his classic records he delivers notes that tumble out of your speakers like gold bars. He’s now 79, and though his voice isn’t what it once was, his pipes have stood up well to 60-plus years of professional singing—not to mention a lot of bourbon and other corrosive substances. Even at his advanced age, the wily Possum delivers more don’t-give-a-fuck per minute than the average rebellious teenager could hope to pack into a lifetime. 8 PM, Rialto Square Theatre, 102 N. Chicago, Joliet, 815-726-6600, $35-$75. —Miles Raymer
sunday7
