Philadelphia Weekly

Black Lips

When Hurricane Katrina blew through the Gulf Coast three years ago, the Black Lips did what any self-respecting band would do. They wrote a song about it. And surprise, "Oh Katrina" is the '60s-style mod-rocking hit of the disaster (we're not buying the story about it being about a girl), all skanky blues beats and cranking basslines and the unanswerable question, "Oh Katrina, why you gotta be so mean?" You might feel a little queasy about enjoying the tune because, after all, people died. Still, if openers Quintron and Miss Pussycat (who lost a studio, instruments and puppets in the storm) can sing along, it must be okay. (Jennifer Kelly)

Pogues

St. Patrick's Day is almost upon us, and that can only mean one thing--the Pogues' annual assault on the Irish-American strongholds of the Eastern seaboard. The more sensitively inclined may want to give this one a major body swerve--hellish visions of amateur alcoholics newly acquainted with their Irish roots, ankle deep in stale, overpriced Guinness and electric green vomit spring to mind. The cynics will carp predictably about a group whose glory days are long gone, with a lead singer who gives the walking dead a bad name. The rest of us, however (and we are legion), will be down front with a band that to this day is a barn-storming, barreling collision between the Chieftains and the Clash, fronted by a ragged icon--Shane MacGowan--who remains the most supremely gifted lyricist of his generation. (Neil Ferguson)

Scythian

Irish music--especially those generic bar bands--can be a bit trying, especially as St. Patrick's Day approaches. But if you're willing to give it a second thought, Scythian is the band to see. The four lads from D.C. are more than just an Irish bar band dedicated to loud songs and beer swigs (though both are encouraged). They're talented musicians who have a stage presence that'll make even the British wish they were Irish. As three of the four members are classically trained, and the fourth a master's student in jazz percussion, the quartet handle their instruments with aplomb, especially during fiddle and accordion passages. (Katherine Silkaitis)

Tift Merritt

Tift Merritt hovers perpetually on the edge of bigger things, her Grammy-nominated 2004 album Tambourine seeming to place her on the same alt-Americana trajectory as Lucinda Williams and Shawn Colvin. Critical acclaim failed to ignite album sales, though, and she was jettisoned from Lost Highway. A long, solitary sojourn in Paris, writing songs and wandering through unfamiliar landscapes, proved just the tonic she needed. The result, her new album Another Country, makes the case that the distance between people may be as vast as continents and unbridgeable as oceans. (J.K.)

Trolleyvox

With songs that span genres from Velvet Underground-influenced rock to Nickel Creek-styled bluegrass, Philadelphia's the Trolleyvox approach music with enthusiastic abandon. While willing to flirt with stereotypes, the Trolleyvox still infuse all of their songs with their characteristic approach: clever hooks, insightful lyrics, strong instrumental playing and of course singer Beth Filla's enchanting vocals. Filla's voice often sets the tone of the songs--Celtic and ethereal on "Stomping Grounds," but rebellious on the punk "Just You Wait." The result is tunes that are at once nostalgic and original. (K.S.)

Bad Plus

Jazz saviors? Destroyers? Silly debate, and it's dying down now that this extravagantly gifted trio have six albums under their belt. The haters don't get that pianist Ethan Iverson, bassist Reid Anderson and drummer David King were part of jazz's topography before they got their major-label deal. Of course their covers of Bowie, Black Sabbath, Blondie and Rush still get people talking. But it's their pooled compositional resources that will secure their place in history. Freaks of nature they are: Iverson channeling Monk in suit and tie, tattooed King in constant motion, Anderson a Curtis Institute-trained marvel in facial scruff and sneakers. Don't miss their group blog Do the Math. (David R. Adler)

Wonder Years

Smartass young punks they are, Philly's Wonder Years not only name their band after an iconic TV show but have Captain Crunch making out with a female Kool-Aid Man on the cover of last fall's Get Stoked on It! Their songs are no less silly, obsessing over ninjas and making fun of that aw-shucks also-ran Buzz Aldrin. They name-drop their obvious influences New Found Glory on "When Keeping It Real Goes Wrong," along with less obvious ones (um, Kerouac), and recruit local pals Zolof the Rock & Roll Destroyer for a guest spot, all while stabbing a thick syringe of adrenaline into the flagging genre that is pop-punk. (Doug Wallen)

Pat Metheny Trio

And they tell us jazz's golden age is over. Herbie Hancock just bested Kanye and Winehouse at the Grammys. His good friend Pat Metheny, the guitarist who spawned a thousand young emulators, has 17 Grammy trophies. Now he's touring with the fifth dream-team trio of his career, featuring Philly star bassist Christian McBride and Mexico-born drummer Antonio Sanchez. The new Nonesuch title Day Trip says much about Metheny's range and mastery: skittering, convoluted bop lines and tight Brazil-inspired rhythm, acoustic ballad reverie, full-throttle catharsis at rock volume. The band stretches even further live, breaking off into duo pairs, using stage sound and lighting to full panoramic advantage. (D.R.A.)