Doug Fir Lounge. 9 pm. $20 advance, $23 day of show. 21+.
Life in Queens is no kung fu fantasy. A few years after Wu-Tang Clan claimed Staten Island for Shaolin with 36 Chambers, Mobb Deep dropped The Infamous, an East Coast rap milestone of equal proportions and similarly grimy production aesthetic that subbed movie-nerd escapism for really real realism—maybe a tad too real. Nineteen years later, MCs Prodigy and Havoc are still reporting live from the meanest streets in New York, where death rules everything around them. Get blunted, but beware: It might make you think way too hard about the line “stab your brain with your nose bone.”
Wm. Willard Greene suggests: “OG Kush. You’ll feel mellow enough for the chill, swaying crowd, and hard enough to look those legends dead in the eye and give the ‘what up?’ head nod.”
Roseland Theater. 8 pm. $45 general admission, $220 VIP. All ages.
Throughout her career, Mexican pop star Gloria Trevi has poked and prodded the conservatism of her home country with an overt sexuality rivaling that of Madonna, to whom she’s often compared. But her rebelliousness extends beyond sheer T&A, with songs addressing feminism, drugs, abortion and other social taboos most chart-busting Latin singers won’t touch. Of course, you’ll need to know Spanish to get all that, and Babel Fish Kush is pretty hard to find these days.
Wm. Willard Greene suggests: “Jack Herer. This breezy and upbeat sativa will have you floating on the balls of your feet, and doing some sort of Latin dance, many of which I’ve seen on television and are quite charming.”
Crystal Ballroom. 8 pm. $25 advance, $28 day of show. All ages.
God’s got the sickest cutback of all, dude. Like Creed if they were chill Southern California surfer bros with Jesus fish on their woodies, Switchfoot tamped down the Christian proselytizing of its early albums to make a successful crossover bid onto mainstream alt-rock radio in the early ’00s, but never stopped sounding vaguely churchy—less like hardcore evangelists than youth-camp counselors too nice to tell you how bad your afterlife is shaping up. For much of this crowd, the only holiday going down is Easter, so pack some Visine, lest ye be judged.
Wm. Willard Greene suggests: “Kill Bill. A chill, present head high for the fans, and soothing physical relief for the tense skeptics braced for a preachy interlude.”
Huun Huur Tu
Alberta Rose Theatre. 8 pm. $25 advance, $28 day of show. Minors admitted with guardian.
Gird your mind for blowing. Huun Huur Tu are masters in the art of Tuvan throat singing, in which different tones are layered atop one another to give the impression of producing multiple pitches at once. These guys are human didgeridoos, basically, creating a sound like an Auto-Tune beehive. If you’re not careful, this could turn out like the time you smoked a J before going to see the dude who makes the noises in Police Academy and nearly went into epileptic shock.
Wm. Willard Greene suggests: “Shipwreck. Because the idea of Tuvan throat singing is a connection to something larger—like the goddamned history of human experience.”