Lots of synth pop is so sweet and overearnest it makes me gag--I can't stand that lovey-dovey doe-eyed little-girl crap. But I find Oly strangely touching, probably because her forlorn-orphan melodies and almost bluesy vocals don't give me the impression that she's looking for a hug--she's actually OK with being sad. She has to take deep breaths to fit what she wants to say into her phrases, but not because she's piling up the syllables or even bracing for an earth-shaking confession; it just seems to take a lot out of her to disclose anything at all. Oly recently moved here from Miami, and she's about to release an EP called A Hot Hooray. On tracks like "Dead Woman" her coy, fluttering-eyelash lyrics ask a little too much of your imagination ("I'd like to touch your lips / Feel the warmth in the dark"), but that can't spoil the simple luxury of the music--her voice melts over the languorous keyboard notes like butter smothering a crepe. Oly plays second; DJM50 opens, Machwhat plays third, and Miles Tilmann headlines. See also Wednesday. Mon 3/14, 9:45 PM, Danny's, 1951 W. Dickens, 773-489-6457. Free.