Converge has been making ears bleed all over the world for almost 15 years now. That's way more than you can say for most of the metal-core bands that dwell in the underground today. Singer Jacob Bannon's utterly brutal tone combined with the meticulously arranged terror of guitarist Kurt Ballou, bassist Nate Newton and drummer Ben Koller has proven itself the perfect recipe for absolutely punishing music. With every major release since 1996's Petitioning The Empty Sky, Converge has redefined the genre they so tirelessly helped to build. The brutality reached epic proportions with 2001's Jane Doe, the album that catapulted Converge to the frontlines of their burgeoning metal-core scene. The follow-up, 2004's You Fail Me (Epitaph), the band's latest, has exceeded all expectations. Many feared a "sell-out," but Converge stuck to their guns and released one of their most assertive and ambitious records to date. (Appearing with Darkest Hour and The Red Chord at Logan Square Auditorium on Nov. 9) --text: Mike Scales--photo: J. Bennett

Some people are afraid of the dark and what may lurk in the shadows. In the case of Detachment Kit, you want to go through that black veil and see if there really are monsters. What you will discover about this band, comprised of Chicagoans Ian Menard and Charlie Davis, is that the monsters can be your friends. Detachment Kit is a pure rock band that ignores musical boundaries and refuses labels. If it would make you feel better, take two pills of indie, slam a bottle of Pixies, throw Of This Blood into your CD player and allow yourself to be whisked away. On their latest album, Detachment Kit blends the melancholy ("Ricochet") and the insane ("The Race") to create worlds within worlds. There is an abrasive sonic assault to the band's sound that draws a line in the sand when it comes to translating their songs onto the stage. Who's side will you be on? (Appearing with Local H and Russian Circles at Metro on Nov. 8) --text: Chris Castaneda

Minus the Bear joined forces in 2001 in Seattle and quickly became known as the band who released albums with humorous song titles like "Potato Juice and Liquid Bread," "Pantsuit.Ugghh," and "Thanks for the Killer Game of Crisco Twister." On the band's latest release, Menos El Oso, Jake Snider and company mature with more customary song titles and, according to Snider, songs about "getting out of current situations." Their music is moody in a Pinback sort of way with layered musical numbers in drop D tuning, harsh guitars and lyrical compositions that allow the listener to get lost in the narratives. The band still writes about women, but now with the realization that relationships are more complicated than they appear. Minus the Bear has progressed slowly in the music scene, with each album increasing their exposure and enriching their music. Finally, they have come full circle. (Appearing with Pelican and Criteria at Metro on Nov. 9) --text: Garin Pirnia

If the Democrats pimped Ted Leo instead of P. Diddy or that mimbo Ben Affleck to bring out the youth vote last election, we might not be screaming "what the fuck!?" every time the news comes on. Leo delivers well-informed politi-punk packaged in bar-band riffs with lyrics that convey a sense of true romanticism for the "shot and a beer" working class. From his Lookout Records debut, Tyranny of Distance (produced by Fugazi drummer Brendan Carey) through last year's Shake The Sheets, he's made a career out of channeling the social awareness of the Clash with the pop sensibility of Elvis Costello. Never is this more resonant than on the infectious "Ballad of the Sin Eater" off 2002's Hearts of Oak. In a biting travelogue of anti-American sentiment, the chorus, "you didn't think they could hate you now did you?" sticks to the brain like a CNN news loop. (Appearing at Metro on Nov. 10) --text: Sean Foran--photo: Tad Kubler

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