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Fuck Buttons, Growing

Tarot Sport (ATP), the sophomore album from Andrew Hung and Benjamin John Power—aka Bristol noise duo Fuck Buttons—would make a perfect soundtrack to a sci-fi horror movie, accompanying lavishly lit alien-abduction scenes complete with jarringly quick closeups of the soon-to-be-victim's doomed face. The opening (and best) track, "Surf Solar," sets the tone with a tranced-out pulse shoring up a swirl of metallic-sounding snippets; here Fuck Buttons flirt with a chunky electro feel, foregrounding their beats instead of submerging them beneath entrancing swells of distortion the way they did on their impressive debut, Street Horrrsing. That album often shook listeners back into consciousness with half-buried onslaughts of abrasive shrieking, but Tarot Sport relies on cleaner sounds—polished layers of synth and electronics that overlap to form an enmeshing matrix for the blips and beeps pinballing within each loop. Articulate and linear, the record climaxes with the outstanding "Flight of the Feathered Serpent," where an almost ominous tip-toeing melody, played on what might be a fuzz guitar, drags just behind a frenetic beat—it's as unsettling as it is alluring. —Kevin Warwick

Critic's Choice Recommended The List (Music) All Ages

Jason Stein, David Daniell, Joseph Mills, and Steven Hess; Tobias Delius & Jeb Bishop; Fred Lonberg-Holm, Nick Macri, and Charles Rumback

Update: Delius has been denied entry to the U.S. due to visa problems and will not appear. It's been eight years since Berlin-based tenor saxophonist Tobias Delius has released a recording as a bandleader—six if you consider him coleader of the collective session Apa Ini (Data)—and that's a damn shame. (At present he has an album of his own in the can but no label lined up.) A longtime member of Amsterdam's ICP Orchestra, Delius has one of the most beautiful and elastic horn sounds in jazz: he shares the breathy, earthy warmth of swing-era tenor man Ben Webster, but transforms it with jagged contemporary phrasing. No matter what configuration of players he ends up part of, he seems to make it sound better. This past summer in Kongsberg, Norway, he floored me in a powerhouse improvising quartet with drummer Paal Nilssen-Love, trombonist Jeb Bishop, and bassist Johan Berthling, teasing out lusty, sanguine melodies even as he kept pace with the screaming tumult of the set. He also sounds great on this summer's First Reason (Clean Feed), a superb album by German drummer Christian Lillinger—his meaty clarinet and tenor lines slalom forcefully through the rhythm section's dense, frantic matrix of notes without losing a bit of their emotional depth along the way. On this rare visit to Chicago, Delius plays four shows with four ad hoc lineups of top-shelf local talent. Tonight Delius plays second in a duo with trombonist Jeb Bishop. Delius also plays Thursday at Elastic, Sunday at Hungry Brain, and Monday at Skylark. —Peter Margasak

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3 Inches of Blood, Saviours, Holy Grail

This California four-piece emerged from the stoner-rock scene, but at the level of id the band looks to be a horse of another color. Though Saviours indulge in the requisite sludgy down-tuning, they've got none of the genre's luxuriant dilated-pupil languor—the heart inside their metal beats fast. On the band's third full-length, Accelerated Living (Kemado), there's a bit of Black Flag and Nausea in their churn, and the structures of their songs forsake one of the chief advantages of relatively slow metal, namely the productive tension it can create by threatening to erupt at any moment—these guys erupt so frequently that they've hardly got time to threaten anything. It's a trade-off, of course, and Saviours' way has its own rewards. The playful cover artwork, which looks like something a satanist might paint on the side of his custom van, lets you know what you're in for: straight-up ripping metal that farts in the general direction of self-seriousness, overanalysis, and basically any thesis a music critic might care to trot out. "Acid Hand" and "Livin' in the Void" in particular pwn the thesaurus wielders of the world. —Monica Kendrick

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John Fogerty

In 1973, after the breakup of Creedence Clearwater Revival, John Fogerty turned to his love of vintage country for his first solo album, The Blue Ridge Rangers, chipping away at his contract by covering classics from the likes of Hank Williams, George Jones, and Jimmie Rodgers and playing all the instruments himself. I'm not sure why, 36 years later, he chose to cut another record under the same name. Though on Rides Again (Verve Forecast) he's surrounded himself with excellent players—guitarist Buddy Miller, drummer Jay Bellerose, multi-instrumentalist Greg Leisz, bassist Dennis Crouch—the music lacks the energy and grit of, say, Fogerty's 2007 solo album Revival (Fantasy). I don't mind hearing him do solid renditions of Ray Price and Buck Owens, but his covers of John Denver's "Back Home Again" and Rick Nelson's "Garden Party" (with Don Henley and Timothy B. Schmit, no less) are the kind of empty, predictable, feel-good boomer bullshit he ought to be above. —Peter Margasak

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Half Rats, Shannon & the Clams, Yolks

Lafayette, Indiana, has been producing old-fashioned party-centric rock 'n' roll for the better part of the decade—the Romance Novels, Eric & the Happy Thoughts, the Sweet Sixteens—and as representatives of that fertile scene the Half Rats are as good as any. Think of the sock-hop deep cuts Dick Biondi plays on WLS when he's not besieged by Abba requests from lame-o suburbanites, and you'll get the idea. In fact, Sir Biondi would probably be able to sneak the heartbroken girl-group number "Johnny Savage" or the surfy teen-boy plea "For the Sake of Love" on the air between the Gentrys and the Shangri-Las. Ever since guitarist-singer T.J. Brock moved to Chicago and joined CoCoComa earlier this year, the Half Rats have been less active, but thankfully they're playing some midwest dates with Shannon & the Clams, an Oakland band smitten with the same sort of vintage sounds. With local boys the Yolks on the bill too—they released a high-energy hip shaker of a debut LP this summer—this show might be your last best chance to break out your dance moves before Chicago freezes over. —Brian Costello

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Elvis Perkins in Dearland, A.A. Bondy

Former Verbena front man A.A. Bondy is an angst-ridden guy making countryish music—like Ryan Adams, at least back before Adams went the way of the Dead. Bondy's latest, When the Devil's Loose (Fat Possum), often sounds like the sort of album everyone's been wishing Adams would get back to making: bedroom intimate despite being recorded in a studio, it's warm, deeply melancholy, and awash in reverb, full of lonesome themes (rivers, moons, deliverance, human bondage, a woman who's gone and not coming back) and real songs. —Jessica Hopper

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Chicago Symphony Orchestra with Paul Lewis

Between 2005 and 2007 young British pianist Paul Lewis performed all 32 of Beethoven's piano sonatas on tour in Europe and the U.S., meanwhile recording them in sets; Harmonia Mundi released them in four volumes, and the last volume won Gramophone's 2008 Record of the Year. It's a monumental undertaking for any pianist, and Lewis, born in Liverpool in 1972, didn't even start taking piano lessons until age 12, after two uneventful years on cello; he entered Chetham's School of Music in Manchester at 14 and went on to London's Guildhall School, where a master class with Alfred Brendel led to regular coaching in his early 20s. Last November Lewis gave a recital in Orchestra Hall that included a sublime rendition of Schubert's Piano Sonata No. 18, in which he revealed an approach similar to the one he brings to Beethoven—he aims to get out of the composer's way, staying as transparent as possible. At times the strictness of his tempos leaves me wishing for a little breathing room, but what he does is impressive—he's a thoughtful player with abundant technique that includes remarkably well-balanced chords and an ability to convey an exceptional range of moods and timbres. He makes his debut with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra performing Mozart's exquisite Piano Concerto No. 12; the program also includes Bartok's folk-inspired Divertimento for String Orchestra and Schumann's Symphony No. 2. Christoph von Dohnanyi conducts. —Barbara Yaross

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Tobias Delius, Jeb Bishop, Jason Stein, Joshua Abrams, and Frank Roasly; James Falzone's Klang

Update: Delius has been denied entry to the U.S. due to visa problems and will not appear. It's been eight years since Berlin-based tenor saxophonist Tobias Delius has released a recording as a bandleader—six if you consider him coleader of the collective session Apa Ini (Data)—and that's a damn shame. (At present he has an album of his own in the can but no label lined up.) A longtime member of Amsterdam's ICP Orchestra, Delius has one of the most beautiful and elastic horn sounds in jazz: he shares the breathy, earthy warmth of swing-era tenor man Ben Webster, but transforms it with jagged contemporary phrasing. No matter what configuration of players he ends up part of, he seems to make it sound better. This past summer in Kongsberg, Norway, he floored me in a powerhouse improvising quartet with drummer Paal Nilssen-Love, trombonist Jeb Bishop, and bassist Johan Berthling, teasing out lusty, sanguine melodies even as he kept pace with the screaming tumult of the set. He also sounds great on this summer's First Reason (Clean Feed), a superb album by German drummer Christian Lillinger—his meaty clarinet and tenor lines slalom forcefully through the rhythm section's dense, frantic matrix of notes without losing a bit of their emotional depth along the way. On this rare visit to Chicago, Delius plays four shows with four ad hoc lineups of top-shelf local talent. Tonight he's joined by trombonist Jeb Bishop, bass clarinetist Jason Stein, bassist Joshua Abrams, and drummer Frank Rosaly. Delius also plays Thursday at Elastic, Saturday at Heaven Gallery, and Monday at Skylark. —Peter Margasak

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LMFAO, Shwayze, Far East Movement, Jump Smokers, Paradiso Girls, Space Cowboy, Million Dollar Mano

Jump Smokers' "My Flow So Tight (Anti-Breezy)" opens with what has to be the non sequitur of the year: the group's lead MC, Roman, repeats "My flow so tight and the beat so sick" three times, then tacks on "Chris Brown should get his ass kicked." Hooking what's essentially a novelty song to a domestic-abuse incident is a tricky proposition, but I can't help but agree with the sentiment. Apparently I'm not the only one—the track was widely blogged, and its combination of real talk and catchy electro beats helped it get steady spins on Chicago pop and hip-hop stations. "Don't Be a Douchebag" is a clunkier attack on an easier target, but the fact that the band tosses out burns on Ed Hardy boys and at the same time gets props from B96—the radio equivalent of a dude wearing too much hair gel—is amazing. —Miles Raymer

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Pine Leaf Boys

Though I used to love Beausoleil, I lost interest when the Cajun juggernaut started angling for a new audience with a middle-of-the-road rock-based approach in the 90s. So I'm glad to see a younger generation, like the Pine Leaf Boys from Lafayette, Louisiana, picking up the mantle of the classic bayou sound. The group suffered a setback after their sophomore record with the departure of vocalist, violinist, and accordionist Cedric Watson—who just released his second album, the excellent L'esprit Creole (Valcour)—but on their latest, Homage au Passe (Lionsgate), they've still got a zesty front line of squeeze box and fiddle, and they serve up soulful, careening waltzes, pumping grooves, and rowdy stomps. As you might expect given that members of the band are connected to Cajun greats like Marc Savoy and the Balfa Brothers by literal bloodlines, the Pine Leaf Boys almost always stick to fundamentals. Despite its contemporary energy, their music is hardly progressive—but I'll take it. I think Beausoleil already proved that tinkering with tradition doesn't always work out. —Peter Margasak

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Septeto Nacional

Ghost bands don't get much older than Septeto Nacional, which established a blueprint for modern Cuban son more than 80 years ago. Formed in 1927 as Sexteto Nacional by bassist and songwriter Ignacio Piñeiro, the band shortly expanded to a septet with the addition of trumpeter Lazaro Herrera—a pioneering step, since wind instruments weren't yet part of the music. Elaborately interlocking patterns on bass, acoustic guitar, tres, and hand percussion buoy the rich, passionate vocal melodies—sometimes composed, sometimes improvised—and the horn both complements the singers and steps out alone, juicing up the punchy, repetitive vamp of the obligatory montuno section with brash soloing. Piñeiro left in the mid-30s, and Herrera took over as leader until 1937, when the group disbanded. They began working together steadily again after the Cuban revolution in 1959, staying true to the vibrant sound of old-fashioned son, and they've continued to this day, albeit with more lineup changes than I'd care to count. Just as exciting as Septeto Nacional's appearance here is the fact that any Cuban musicians at all are playing here—they're the first group from the island to visit Chicago in six years, thanks to the baby steps the Obama administration has taken to normalize relations between Cuba and the States. —Peter Margasak

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Tobias Delius, Josh Berman, Jason Roebke, and Mike Reed

Update: Delius has been denied entry to the U.S. due to visa problems and will not appear. It's been eight years since Berlin-based tenor saxophonist Tobias Delius has released a recording as a bandleader—six if you consider him coleader of the collective session Apa Ini (Data)—and that's a damn shame. (At present he has an album of his own in the can but no label lined up.) A longtime member of Amsterdam's ICP Orchestra, Delius has one of the most beautiful and elastic horn sounds in jazz: he shares the breathy, earthy warmth of swing-era tenor man Ben Webster, but transforms it with jagged contemporary phrasing. No matter what configuration of players he ends up part of, he seems to make it sound better. This past summer in Kongsberg, Norway, he floored me in a powerhouse improvising quartet with drummer Paal Nilssen-Love, trombonist Jeb Bishop, and bassist Johan Berthling, teasing out lusty, sanguine melodies even as he kept pace with the screaming tumult of the set. He also sounds great on this summer's First Reason (Clean Feed), a superb album by German drummer Christian Lillinger—his meaty clarinet and tenor lines slalom forcefully through the rhythm section's dense, frantic matrix of notes without losing a bit of their emotional depth along the way. On this rare visit to Chicago, Delius plays four shows with four ad hoc lineups of top-shelf local talent. Tonight Delius plays in a quartet with cornetist Josh Berman, bassist Jason Roebke, and drummer Mike Reed. Delius also plays Thursday at Elastic, Saturday at Heaven Gallery, and Sunday at Hungry Brain. —Peter Margasak

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Baroness, Earthless, U.S. Christmas

If you think of this Georgia four-piece as simply stoner metal, their masterful second full-length, Blue Record (Relapse), ought to complicate your thoughts on the matter. With new guitarist Peter Adams and producer John Congleton (not a specialist in heavy music, he's worked with the Roots and the Polyphonic Spree, among many others), Baroness dig themselves up that hill and emerge at a transcendent height, playing riffs and melodies that have a piercing, single-minded clarity and journeying through a satisfying variety of sounds and moods. They're not at all shy with acoustic interludes—the kind that put you in mind of a Ren-faire reenactment of the Battle of Evermore held in a magic-mushroom meadow, which have been damned hard to do properly since about 1979—but they also know exactly when to follow up a mellow medieval daydream with a one-two punch of Dark Ages brutality and rage. "The Sweetest Curse" seethes with slippery, bluesy Ritchie Blackmore-style guitar licks, and the drums in the wicked "A Horse Called Golgotha" reliably show you just where to bang your head. As if that's not enough, singer-guitarist John Baizley contributes beautifully detailed cover art (as always) that you can get lost in while the band boils your brain. —Monica Kendrick

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Tossers, Teen Idols