Jay Reatard; Chooglin'; the Blind Shake

Okay, punks, this is it, choose yer route. You can head to the Trey-Rock and catch Atlanta goon crew the Black Lips bangin' it out tra-deesh style, or you can wheel yourself to the Entry and check out a man so bitchin' bad he could cut down all dem Troglodyte snot rags to cherry-cheeked cherubs, and in no time fast. Yeah, fewer than three ticks of the long hand was pretty fuckin' swift, but the real deal gay-rawge of the '60s just can't hold up to Reatard's fast and furious. Punk and hardcore have long obliterated the speed limit, but now even throwback car-hole rock chirrups faster than Dave Lombardo throttling his double-kick. Reatard's solo debut, Blood Visions, features 15 lo-fi pop-punk-garage songs at a frantic twitchy double-time. Think Nuggets Vol. 1 as interpreted by Devo, "My Sharona," or David Byrne at his bread-flyin'-out-the-toaster best. With Chooglin' and the Blind Shake. 18+.
Sun., Sept. 30, 9 p.m., 2007