The Clean, Boogarins | Lincoln Hall | Rock, Pop, Etc | Chicago Reader
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click to enlarge The Clean

The Clean

Tim Soter

When: Mon., Aug. 18, 8 p.m. 2014
Price: $18
Legacies don’t come much heavier than the Clean’s. The New Zealand trio’s earliest recordings kick-started an underground rock scene in their homeland that thrives to this day; their catholic tastes, DIY methods, and casually brilliant songs established an indie-rock template that was as meaningful to Yo La Tengo in the 80s as it is to Beijing band Carsick Cars right now. So I guess they’re allowed to act at least a little like a legacy band. The Clean haven’t worked up any new material since releasing Mister Pop (Merge) in 2009, and this tour coincides with a four-LP reissue of Anthology, a collection of their work from between 1981 and 1996. If their most recent Chicago appearance in 2010 is anything to go by, you can expect plenty of early material tonight. But each member has a solo album on deck that proves his talents are still in full flower: drummer Hamish Kilgour is releasing a collection of eerie, acoustic acid folk called All of It and Nothing (Ba Da Bing!); bassist Robert Scott includes a half-dozen sweetly earnest duets with Tiny Ruins singer Hollie Fullbrook on The Green Room (Flying Nun); and David Kilgour reconfirms the inventiveness of his guitar playing and the melodic grace of his songwriting with End Times Undone (Merge). Whether the Clean play any new songs or not, video evidence from their gigs this winter suggests that even their performances of 35-year-old warhorses such as “Point That Thing Somewhere Else” take nothing for granted. —Bill Meyer

Fernando Almeida and Benke Ferraz, teenagers who met in high school in the central Brazilian city of Goiâna, recorded the warped psychedelia on their impressive debut album as Boogarins in the basements of the homes they shared with their parents The title of As Plantas Que Curam (Other Music) translates loosely as “Plants That Heal,” a not-so-subtle reference to their interest in mind-altering substances. Scads of music-obsessed teens bash out tunes that reach toward the trippy heights climbed by their 60s rock heroes, but these guys do more than imitate the Beatles, Jimi Hendrix, and Os Mutantes. Album opener “Lucifernandis” cleverly conflates the devil and the name of a Brazilian girl—a “lysergic girl in ’69,” to be exact. Whoever’s singing to us in “Despreocupar” is “high, so high,” and “Paul” meditates on the conspiracy theory about the Beatles concealing McCartney’s death, concluding that it may as well be true (the lyrics translate to “If Paul were still alive / Surely he would tell / Because there is always an old fogey who does not open his head”). The production is appealingly crude, and the heady, fuzzed-out guitars churn out a sound from five decades ago—though you won’t be thinking about history, thanks to the momentum they give the irresistible melodies. For touring purposes Boogarins have grown into a quartet, and this is their Chicago debut. —Peter Margasak Moved from Schubas.

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