Philadelphia Weekly

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Stereo Total
Thurs., Aug. 23, 9pm. $13. With Octopus Project. North Star, 27th and Poplar sts. 215.787.0488. www.northstarrocks.com

Stereo Total jump genres as often as languages, and the resulting spray of French-German-English disco-garage-pop is all the cooler for it, whether you understand the lyrics or not. Listening to the boy/girl duo's new Kill Rock Stars-released Paris-Berlin is like downing a few liters of Jolt before flipping through your favorite record store's used vinyl. Homage is paid to the band's homelands with bizarre covers of Serge Gainsbourg's "Relax Baby Be Cool" and Can's "Ich Bin Der Stricherjunge," but it's originals such as "Plastic" and "Patty Hearst" that spike bouncy fun with political commentary like sugar grenades landing in a minefield of cotton candy. (Doug Wallen)

Reef the Lost Cauze
Sat., Aug. 25, 9pm. $10. With Jake Lefco, Lyricists + Head Turners. Khyber, 56 S. Second St. 215.238.5888. www.thekhyber.com

On 2005's Feast or Famine Reef the Lost Cauze boasts, "I belong in a rap zoo, with a sign that reads 'Please Don't Feed the Angry Black Dude.'" Anger and animalistic instincts aside, Reef has spent years toiling in the underground, reppin' for Philly's hip-hop scene on a national scale. From his near-legendary status as a top-shelf battle MC to his collaborations with the JuJu Mob, Brother Ali and Vinnie Paz of Jedi Mind Tricks, Reef continues to set the bar high while maintaining his integrity and independence. As he broadens his search for an acceptable distribution deal for his upcoming fourth full-length, Reef kicks out the as-yet-unreleased jams live for his local legions. (Joshua Valocchi)

Purple Rhinestone Eagle have been at it for years now, coming off like early Sleater-Kinney with a jones for stoner rock (which, yes, essentially equals S-K's final album). But since they've been tearing shit up primarily in West Philly, it's there that their reputation has remained. Maybe that's why the all-girl trio is moving to Portland, Ore., following a string of local shows. Even if that city's rich indie ore makes West Philly's basement scene look like Manayunk, it's still sad to see the ladies go. There's a lesson here: If we champion some great bands but ignore others, we could lose Maple Rabbit and Bad News Bats too. (D.W.)

There's this scene in some movie, or maybe it's just a bogus amalgamation of every Milla Jovovich flick, in which a chick in platinum spandex cocks her head. A dude in a dark suite pants one last time. She pulls the trigger. The back of her neck sparks. She licks his pulpy wound, bids the world a tinny farewell--auf wiedersehen--and crumbles to scrap metal. The scene is hot. And weird. And begs for an encore. That encore is Umlaut, Philly's own synthetic, demented and vacantly sexy kitsch-pop quintet that released their first album last month. Franco-Germanic lyrics, former members of Golden Ball and synchronized dancing may be the pull for you the rest of us stick around for the robot sex. (Caralyn Green)

Alongside their pals Times New Viking and Psychedelic Horseshit, Pink Reason are putting Columbus, Ohio, back on the map with a no-fi smear of basement punk, bratty pop, screeching psych and hazy folk. Every song goes someplace different but could have been recorded in the same rusty washing machine mid-spin-cycle. Turns out it's basically a one-man band, with Kevin De Broux assembling proper lineups for touring. The only album to Pink Reason's name is Cleaning the Mirror on Philly's reborn Siltbreeze imprint, though there's a trio of 7-inches floating around. Collect them all and you'll be no closer to predicting what the next song will sound like. (D.W.)

Swervedriver's Adam Franklin made six albums as Toshack Highway, but only one this year under his own name: Bolts of Melody, in which the hero of iridescent guitar pop takes up his rock ax and refuses to even glance at his shoes. Superbly lo-fi "Seize the Day" crunches like Sebadoh, and distortion-drenched "Syd's Eyes" has a whiff of VU and even Mercury Rev. That's a fantastic coincidence, seeing as Mercury Rev's ex-guitar player is opening. Jason Russo's Hopewell released the aptly named Beautiful Targets, an album that already sounds like a lost psych-rock classic. (Jennifer Kelly)

Hands Across the Void, the recent Sub Pop debut by Tiny Vipers, is an album fitting for summer's end. Out with the pink lemonade, the Rihanna and the Daft Punk in with the skeletal finger picking, the vintage microphone fuzz and the leaden stories Joanna Newsom would tell if only she were a bit more linear, a bit less transcendental. Tiny Vipers, nee Seattle sullen girl Jesy Fortino, shares Newsom's vulnerable warble, though her bleak songcraft drifts somewhere closer to Cat Power before she discovered soul and sobriety, or even Faun Fables minus the belligerent whimsy. (C.G.)

Following 2004's highly regarded Solo, Philly's finest jazz guitar burner Jimmy Bruno recently released Maplewood Avenue with bassist Jeff Pedras and vibraphonist Tony Miceli. It's classic Bruno. His clear, high-flying runs and sweet-as-silk chordal work are pure heaven for jazz lovers. Of course Bruno's music makes everyone a jazz aficionado, the South Philly native playing with a natural flow and swinging musicality that's rare in these Pro Tooled times. Chris' is practically Bruno's second home, where he has perfected his art to the point of sublime sensation. Pianist Sid Simmons is also onboard. (Ken Micallef)