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the howling hex Though Neil Michael Hagerty seems reluctant to bill himself a solo artist–he spent the 90s in Royal Trux and since 2003 has fronted an ever-changing ensemble called the Howling Hex–he’s unmistakably a rock ‘n’ roll auteur. On some of his records his attention span seems shorter than my cat’s–on 1-2-3 (Drag City, 2006), a CD culled from three vinyl releases, Hagerty flits between dubbed-out country rock, Tex-Mex balladry, spoken word, and musique concrete. On others, like the same year’s Nightclub Version of the Eternal, he remorselessly pounds one idea into the ground–in this case boogie workouts so single-minded they border on minimalism. This show offers the first glimpse of the Hex’s latest incarnation, a five-piece band in which everyone sings and Hagerty, a frequently astounding lead guitarist, holds down the low end on six-string bass. They’ve been on the road for two weeks, and the day after the show they’ll go into Semaphore to record. Dreamweapon opens. a 9 PM, Hideout, 1354 W. Wabansia, 773-227-4433 or 866-468-3401, $12. –Bill Meyer
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obelisk & mc cat genius MC Cat Genius pads and slinks around onstage in white gloves and a cat mask–he dresses up as his beloved pet, Piccolo–and meows and raps in a cartoonish nasal squeak. His partner, Obelisk, throws down on the mike too when shit gets super nutty, but mostly he’s in charge of the canned Fancy Feast–loose, messy tracks that scramble hip-hop beats with sunny, rollicking organ and samples from songs you’d rather forget existed (the Fat Boys’ “Protect Yourself/My Nuts,” Michael Jackson’s “Will You Be There”). Typical lyric content: pancakes, Zubaz pants, butts. Typical stage antics: autographing sample-size bags of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and tossing them to the crowd. In other words, this is armpit-fart humor at its finest. The Umbros open; Rotten Milk and Beau Wanzer spin throughout. a 10 PM, Red-I Lounge, 2201 S. Wentworth, 312-927-7334, $3. –Liz Armstrong
BESNARD LAKES The falsetto vocal that opens “Disaster,” the first track on The Besnard Lakes Are the Dark Horse (Jagjaguwar), sounds enough like the Beach Boys that you could be forgiven for deciding you’ve been down this indie-pop road before–but soon enough all landmarks have disappeared in swirls of dense fog. Throughout its stunning debut album this Montreal band makes patience a virtue: the serene, gorgeous arrangements slowly accrue layers and depth, each ethereal organ wash and vibrato-rich guitar lick finding its place within the growing din. Such restraint only heightens the drama at the center of the songs, where Jace Lasek and Olga Goreas shape their beautifully elusive melodies–though the band rocks pretty hard at times, the essential delicateness of its alternately roiling and gossamer music never gets trampled. Dirty on Purpose headlines and Paper Airplane Pilots open. a 9 PM, Schubas, 3159 N. Southport, 773-525-2508, $10. –Peter Margasak
