Ingram Hill hails from the vast bombed-out center of American culture, the creative wasteland where Hiltons and Kardashians run wild, vampires are more ubiquitous than Starbucks, and Crocs are the height of fashion. There’s nothing odd or irregular about them other than a preternatural ability to make the blandest, most featureless music known to man night after night without sucking the bullet out of a .45. Not to diminish their accomplishments. Obviously they make ’90s skid marks Dishwalla, Tonic and Sister Hazel smell freshly douched—proving demonstrable lack of talent should never be an impediment. Their rootsy, heavily polished modern rock offers less surprise than an episode of Two & A Half Men and even less sophistication. Love is their crack getting them high and making them miserable enough for an intervention begging them to stop taking it out on innocent music listeners.
Tues., Jan. 18, 8pm. $8-$10. With Curtis Peoples + Jerard Fink. World Cafe Live, 3025 Walnut St. 215.222.1400. worldcafelive.com
A$AP Ferg is the Mob’s man of honor