Although psychedelic rock usually evokes nostalgic images of Robert Plant’s tightly-clad cucumber or the Grateful Dead’s dead, the genre is more than simply music of the past. Noisy Japanese rock outfit Acid Mothers Temple have been reinvigorating the genre since 1997, producing an astonishing 38 LPs, including six in 2007. By contrasting serene folk melodies with unexpected walls of impenetrable noise, the band’s live performances have been described as spiritual experiences (a logical comparison since their advocation of communal living has led some to believe they are in fact a cult). With the spacey, lo-fi harmonies of psychedelic revivalists Brian Jonestown Massacre and Comets on Fire mixed with the organized hysteria of Deerhoof and fellow Japanese psych-rockers Boredoms, Acid Mothers are a creative force to be reckoned with: unpredictable, unorthodox, and loud. Really fucking loud. (Appearing with Danava at Empty Bottle on March 31) --text: Matthew Partington

Portland’s Danava might mislead you into thinking they’re a Spinal Tap or Thin Lizzy cover band when they crawl up onto the stage based on sheer appearances. Their bangs and mustaches scream ‘70s, but so do their deafening guitar riffs and gut-wrenching wails. The Alice Cooper in them shines through every death marching bassline, cymbal crash and paralleled guitar part. If I’ve heard any band sound like Black Sabbath in the past few years, I’d have to nominate Danava for the Ozz-sound clone throne. On tour with Acid Mothers Temple for most of the spring, Danava certainly exercises its psychedelic muscle, but in a way that separates itself from most of the ‘60s psychedelia that is being revived today. In Hinduism, the Danavas were demons that revolted against the gods and were locked into the depths of the sea for eternity. I must say, this does feel a little bit like the devil. (Appearing with Acid Mothers Temple & the Melting Paraiso UFO at Empty Bottle on March 31) --text: Katie Knaub

There are quality bands both musically and lyrically, and there are good bands that are both funny and entertaining. Then there is Electric Six, which is all of the above. The cult followers of the Dick Valentine-led 6-piece can pretty much assume that the band is either playing a live date somewhere, working on a new album, or possibly making one of their dozens of hilarious, half-hearted music videos. A fresh batch of songs from their fourth release, verbosely titled I Shall Exterminate Everything Around Me That Restricts Me from Being the Master, may not explore many new topics, but it will provide new life to aging songs from their 2003 release Fire. The "Dance Commander" replacement, "It’s Showtime," ends with Valentine’s wisdom: "Don't tell me how to do my job now / 'Cause I'm totally doin' my job now" — which Electric Six does every time they take the stage. (Appearing at Double Door on March 29) --text: Joseph O'Fallon--photo: Pieter Van Hattem

Even though "le loup" translates in French to "the wolf", the band isn’t another Wolf Parade French-Canadian knock off. In fact, this septet hails from D.C., where the only wolves you’ll find are lined up along K Street. Lead singer Sam Simkoff started recording songs on his laptop and eventually recruited the other band members via Craigslist. Combining instrumentation from the vox, French horn, banjo, keys and zither, Le Loup produces music in the vein of Islands — full of wistful vocals and lo-fi electronica. Their debut, last year’s The Throne of the Third Heaven of the Nations Millennium General Assembly, garnered them enough acclaim for Simkoff to quit his hum-drum day job as a paralegal. Referencing Dante, "Canto" and "Canto Xxxiv" imbue themes of escapism while "We are Gods! We are Wolves!" is carried by lush banjo melodies. "Outside of this Car, the End of the World!" centers on doomsday, entailing in-the-round vocals and sporadic vocal inflections. (Appearing with Ruby Sons and Throw Me the Statue at Schubas on March 28) --text: Garin Pirnia

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