Softly Now with Unbunny, the Crying Shame at the Jewelbox, 6 p.m., $5

After the McLeod Residence closed, Levi Fuller (the same man who brings

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Live Music Roundup: Wednesday, August 5

Softly Now with Unbunny, the Crying Shame at the Jewelbox, 6 p.m., $5

After the McLeod Residence closed, Levi Fuller (the same man who brings you Ball of Wax every three months) was forced to search for a new place to host Softly Now, his monthly showcase of quiet music. Well, after a few months of absence, it's nestled quite nicely into a new home at the Jewelbox, and this show features Unbunny, a local band with a folk-y sensibility that fans of the Weakerthans should enjoy, as its singer's reedy voice smacks of John K. Samson's. It's surprising to me that Unbunny's received so little attention from local music press, because the band's best songs -- "Pink Lemonade" is a good example, and one you can stream on MySpace -- exude this fragile poignancy that's utterly striking upon first listen. They play with the Crying Shame, a twisted country band with a dirty sense of humor and a singer whose low-slung baritone makes him sound like Johnny Cash's long-lost grandson. SARA BRICKNER

Kimya Dawson, Paleface, No One & the Somebodies, Turbosleaze at the Vera Project, 7:30 p.m., $10, all ages

Most people would agree that it's fair to characterize Kimya Dawson, and her entire musical career, as a fairly galvanizing phenomenon. Between her (some think charmingly, some annoyingly) amateurish sound, frequent use of twelve year old caliber humor (some find her fart jokes refreshingly anti-serious, others think she's just contributing to a lower level of discourse), and her fairly recent foray into the half-world of children's songs that are frequently too mature for actual children (yet not even remotely aiming for mainstream adult audiences), Dawson has a love it or hate it style. She's probably fine with that. In fact, that dichotomy of perception has helped Dawson's recent resurgence through the widespread popularity of quirky teen romance Juno, and its soundtrack, for which Dawson provided seven songs (one with her erstwhile anti-folk outfit The Moldy Peaches). Through both its narrative arc and its musical backdrop, that movie is, as AllMusic reviewer Stephen Thomas Erlewine so aptly puts it, all about "how the world-weary sarcasm of Gen-X rubs against the unapologetic quirkiness of Gen-Y." Clearly, Dawson finds her inspiration further along the alphabutt. . .er, alphabetical rift of the generation gap. Whether or not you commiserate is likely a sign of your mental age. NICHOLAS HALL

 
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