Live: Music Picks Nov. 5-11 

Houndmouth, Big Sandy & His Fly-Rite Boys, Jelly Bread and more

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  • Houndmouth

Houndmouth, Cicada Rhythm
It's storytelling in four-part harmony: The true spirit of the troubadour is alive and free in the loose, frolicking, character-driven retro-rock of Indiana indie-folk rock band Houndmouth. The band's sophomore release, Little Neon Limelight (Rough Trade) came out in March, and their live performance will include tracks from this and their debut album, as well as covers of songs by Dion, Jimmy Buffett and Funkadelic. Cicada Rhythm, a Georgia folk-roots duo, opens the concert with their own stories about open spaces; the stand-up bass and guitar picking tell just as much of a story as the sometimes sleepy, sometimes jaunty, vocals. (TF) The Complex, 536 W. 100 South, 6 p.m., $18.50 in advance, $20 day of show,


Matt Pond PA
  • Matt Pond PA

Matt Pond PA, Laura Stevenson
Matt Pond PA has plied his singular brand of indie chamber pop since the late '90s, when indie music exploded in the emergence of file sharing, home-recording software and the expansion of the Internet. The music that resulted was, not surprisingly, very personal and intimate, and sonically diverse. Originally from Philadelphia, Matt Pond PA is now based in New York, and boasts a canon of 11 LPs and numerous EPs, singles and other releases. His latest, The State of Gold (Doghouse), finds him working in a more direct indie rock medium, with middling results, but he's got enough great back catalog that an intimate evening at Kilby Court should be something to experience. Opener Laura Stevenson is touring behind her fourth album, Cocksure (Don Giovanni), which is pure acid-tongued, embittered, power-pop ear candy. (BS) Kilby Court, 741 S. 330 West, 7 p.m., $12,


Big Sandy
  • Big Sandy

Big Sandy & His Fly-Rite Boys
If, after all the trips Big Sandy & His Fly-Rite Boys have made through the Beehive State, you haven't heard of them, you likely have had your head in the, uh, sand. Starting out as a rockabilly band, they evolved just in time to hit the swing-dance craze of the late '90s, and they were riding high on the tides of that phenomenon for a while. But rockabilly is an evergreen genre, and among that fan base—of which there is no lack of devotees in Salt Lake City—the same old chestnuts recur. This music is a part of Americana, recalling the '40s and '50s. That doesn't change much, but that's kinda reassuring. Local family 'billy band Mad Max & the Wild Ones opens. (BS) The Garage on Beck, 1199 Beck St., 8 p.m., $10,


click to enlarge Jelly Bread
  • Jelly Bread

Jelly Bread
When you have chops, like Jelly Bread does, you don't need to brag about a "fortuitous encounter" with someone who won a TV talent show. When you do that, like Jelly Bread does on their website (they caught it all on video!), you forget your audience doesn't care about American Idol. It's musical badassery that impresses fans of blues, funk and jam. Jelly Bread, a quintet from Reno/Lake Tahoe, will knock you flat with epic jaunts built on fat grooves that feature searing lap steel guitar solos, funky organ, a singing drummer and even a talkbox! And, actually, even when Taylor Hicks joins the band for two songs (totaling 32 minutes), they aren't diminished in the slightest. In fact, his vocals and harmonica playing fit so well, you almost forget Hicks is part of the ickiest thing to happen to music since—well, no sense bashing another "artist." Just know that Jelly Bread cooks (or bakes). The Blackberry Bushes String Band opens. (RH) The State Room, 638 S. State, 9 p.m., $13,


The Front Bottoms
  • The Front Bottoms

The Front Bottoms
Rabid, riotous and eclectic, indie-punk rock band The Front Bottoms no longer bring inflatable tube dancers with them on tour. They've been replaced by The Uptown Horns, who'll come out and play on songs from TFB's newest release, Back On Top (Fueled By Ramen), and jazzed-up versions of a couple of songs from the previous albums. The group of rowdy New Jerseyans are expanding their live performance—rapper and TFB collaborator GDP is shooting photos and video on the tour, and joins them onstage for "Historic Cemetery." The Smith Street Band and Elvis Depressedly open. (Tiffany Frandsen) The Complex, 536 W. 100 South, 6:30 p.m., $16.50 advance, $20 day of show,


click to enlarge My Life With the Thrill Kill Kult
  • My Life With the Thrill Kill Kult

My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult
I used to think My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult was a slightly low-rent White Zombie, more dance-oriented perhaps. The story of the origins of the band—founding members Groovie Mann and Buzz McCoy touring with Ministry, originally creating MLWTKK (not to be confused with MST3K, lol) as a B-movie art-film project—certainly lends itself to that kind of sleazy glamour. The movie was never made. But in a sense they were so much more, as a big part of the industrial soundtrack to the '90s. They've been recording fairly steadily in the meantime; their latest is Spooky Tricks (Sleazebox). Catching up with them since their heyday, it's as though they were frozen in time as their dependably salacious selves. (BS) Area 51, 451 S. 400 West, 8 p.m., $15 in advance, $20 day of show,


The Good Life
  • The Good Life

The Good Life, Big Harp
There's a bit of psychedelia to the melodies—and a Lou Reed-y quality to the vocals—of The Good Life. The Omaha, Neb., folk-rock band took a massive break after 2007's Help Wanted Nights. On their newest, Everybody's Coming Down (Saddle Creek), the folk remains apparent in the lyrics and vocals, but ultimately sits backseat to classic, grungy rock. Openers Big Harp underwent their own musical transition since their last release. August's album, Waveless (Majestic Litter), is more upbeat and experimental than 2013's Chain Letters, with influences from surf-rock and punk. Fun fact: Half of Big Harp is Stefanie Drootin, the bassist for tonight's headliners. (Tiffany Frandsen) The Urban Lounge, 241 S. 500 East, 9 p.m., $13 advance, $15 day of show,


  • Peaches

Peaches, Cristeene
Can you imagine if singer/rapper/dirty dirty girl Peaches Nisker debuted in 1985? She would've made Madonna and her whole "Express Yourself" thing look like a weak PSA. And the "obscenity" of Luther Campbell and 2 Live Crew? It would've looked quaint in comparison. In the '90s, she would've given Tipper Gore and the Parents Music Resource Center a stroke with her sexually liberated, gender-bending lyrics. Hell, in 2000—the year she dropped her first platter, The Teaches of Peaches—she freaked people out, talking about "Fuck the Pain Away" and "Diddle My Skittle." Except we were just about ready for her. It was the beginning of the Bush era, after all. Well, Peaches doubled down on every album since, and became the poster bitch for being who you are, and banging who you wanna bang however you wanna bang 'em. And all this, while grinding the cutting edge of music and live performance to a sharper edge than ever. Her new album is called Rub and here's a lyric from the title track, for you to complete, Mad Libs-style: "Can't talk right now/ This chick's ____ is in my ____." Bonus androgyny: Cristeene opens, and she's like Peaches crossbred with Buffalo Bill: subversive, funny and kinda scary. (RH) The Urban Lounge, 241 S. 500 East, 9 p.m., $20,

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