The Stranger

The set is like a giant utility closet—too many brooms, a hammock woven out of extension cords, and clumps of clothes hangers drooping like wisteria from the ceiling. Nothing in this piece by New York choreographer John Jasperse could be bought; it's all found or stolen. The gimmick is good and the dance is soft and hypnotic, a corporeal white noise punctuated by occasional hysteria: a little slam dancing, some comical folding and unfolding of blue jeans. With live musical accompaniment by electric harpist Zeena Parkins and some bagpipers. (On the Boards, 100 W Roy St, 217-9888. 8 pm, $24.) by Brendan Kiley

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This tortured documentary about a toddler making abstract paintings provides a kind of sequel to Pollock. Instead of a fiery crash at the end, little Marla and her parents suffer that uniquely modern death: media humiliation. The father is caught on a 60 Minutes hidden camera telling his daughter what to paint. The dealer is revealed to be a hater of abstract painting who is using Marla as a way into the art world. But the mother and the filmmaker, Amir Bar-Lev, emerge as the truly tortured characters and the film's queasy moral center. (See Movie Times for details.) by Jen Graves

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Pinback, an indie-rock band from San Diego, exist in an elite realm that few are capable of visiting, even for a song or two. Their music is delicate and complex, but still engaging, and lacks that robotic edge that can invade such a mechanically proficient sound. Their new album, Autumn to the Seraphs, could finally lift them to the household-name status of similar bands like the Shins, Modest Mouse, and Death Cab for Cutie. (Showbox at the Market, 1436 First Ave, 628-3151. 8 pm, $16 adv/$18 DOS, all ages.) by Megan Seling

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Ted Leo and company never strayed far from their familiar upbeat punk-rock sound, but their 2007 release, Living with the Living, is a big step. The band dabbles in reggae, flaunts obvious adoration for Joe Strummer, and gives a brutal edge to Chumbawumba's "Rappaport's Testament: I Never Gave Up." They usually close the show with that rowdy track—it always turns the pit into a mess of fist-waving, dancing bodies. With Quasi. (Neumo's, 925 E Pike St, 709-9467. 8 pm, $13, all ages.) by Megan Seling

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The good thing about the death of the Seattle Fringe Festival: the cavalcade of terrible, half-baked local shows that will never be inflicted on an audience. The bad thing about the death of the Seattle Fringe Festival: the fantastic out-of-town artists we never get to see. Jayson McDonald is one of those—a solo performer from Ontario and darling of the summer fringe festival circuit. Giant Invisible Robot, one of his perennial hits, is a comedy about a boy and his best friend, the titular robot, which is programmed to destroy. (Theater Off Jackson, 409 Seventh Ave S, 800-838-3006. 8 pm, $12.) by Brendan Kiley

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The instrumental ambient rockers of Mono have come all the way from Tokyo to redefine what rock music can sound like. Their poignant songs find more common ground with classical music than with most modern output, and only after seeing it with your own eyes can you believe that just three men and one woman are capable of creating such a dynamic and beautiful, jarring and explosive wall of sound. With High on Fire, Panthers, and Coliseum. (Crocodile, 2200 Second Ave, 441-5611. 8 pm, $16 adv/$18 DOS, 21+.) by Megan Seling

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