The Stranger

(NEW SOUL MUSIC) Can hiphoppers espouse peace without getting scorned as corny? Unlikely, but if anyone deserves respect for pushing spiritual vibes within instrumental-hiphop parameters, it's Ammoncontact (L.A.'s Carlos Niño and Fabian Ammon). The duo's new, aptly titled With Voices allows them to fortify their heartily languid soul-jazzisms (think Gil Scott-Heron jamming with Last Poets in Bill Laswell's studio) with lyrics that uplift and inform. (Chop Suey, 1325 E Madison St, 324-8000. 8 pm, $10, 21+.) by Dave Segal

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(MUSIC) Seven years ago, Smoking Popes broke many a heart when they ceased being an active band, therefore no longer gracing the public with their fucking fantastic pop-rock songs. They've recently dusted themselves off, though, and after nearly a decade of silence, they played a live show in Chicago, recorded it, and released it in a CD/DVD called Smoking Popes at Metro. It's a great recording and all, but you can get the real deal tonight. (Crocodile, 2200 Second Ave, 441-5611. 8 pm, $12, all ages.) by Megan Seling

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(MUSIC) Rock critics are as guilty of overusing the phrase "wall of guitar" as George W. Bush is of prefacing threats with premature rebukes like "make no mistake," but in the case of Mogwai's almost entirely instrumental onslaught, such a descriptor is perennially apt. Songs like "Glasgow Megasnake" (from this year's Mr. Beast release) or "Mogwai Fear Satan" (from their 2001 My Father My King EP) simply demand architecture of that scope. (Showbox, 1426 First Ave, 447-1801. 8 pm, $17.50 adv/$20 DOS, all ages.) by Hannah Levin

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(TRUE DIVE JOINT) In a city gentrifying at warp speed, true dives are a threatened species. But the former Deano's—now renamed Club Chocolate City—remains untouched. It's shadowed by complaints of drugs and prostitution, qualities that have attracted state regulators. After it's gone, dive-bar connoisseurs will be judged by whether they've been here. Have you? Time may be running out. (2030 East Madison St, 322-7670. Noon–2 am, 21+.) by Thomas Francis

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(FILM) The Seattle International Film Festival kicks off today, but the opening-night feature, The Illusionist, is sloshy and bland. Don't bother. Head over to the Grand Illusion instead for the final night of The Devil's Miner, a mesmerizing documentary about child workers in the silver mines of Bolivia who, in addition to worshipping God in their town's Catholic church, also make sacrifices to Tio, a devil who holds sway over the Earth's hostile core. (Grand Illusion, 1403 NE 50th St, 523-3935. 7 and 9 pm, $5-$7.50.) by Annie Wagner

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(NIGHTLIFE) Recent entertainment at Can Can has included old-time string band the Tallboys (with a percussion section of a winsome young lady tap-dancing on a tiny plank floor) and the retro-apocryphal sounds of the Bad Things (featuring a surly dwarf beating a tambourine, drinking a beer, and intoning prose poetry). Tonight, the in-house dancers (bosomy, wearing frilly underwear) perform during the dinner hour; later, the Heavenly Spies ("espionage-à-trois" burlesque) take the stage. (Can Can, 94 Pike St, 652-0832. Free/all-ages before 10 pm, $10 after in show room, bar is free.) by Bethany Jean Clement

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