The Stranger

A decade of scathing rock at breakneck speed can really take it out of you. So three former members of local spazz-core demons the Blood Brothers—vocalist Jordan Blilie, bassist/keyboardist Morgan Henderson, and drummer Mark Gajadhar—needed to decompress. After a short respite, they took on ex-Shoplifting guitarist Devin Welch and formed Past Lives, their new weapon against apathy and boredom. Clangorous and angsty, Past Lives create a more subtle, angular brand of rock. They're mellower than Blood Bros ever were, but their artful thrusts cut just as deeply. (Green Room at Showbox at the Market, 1426 First Ave, 628-3151. 8 pm, $7, 21+.) by Dave Segal

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Never has so much looked so good in such a tiny, ugly room. This is a group show of some of Seattle's greats (Gretchen Bennett, Jeffry Mitchell) in modest miniature, organized by artist Matthew Offenbacher, who basically turned the back room at Howard House into a rapturously lit UNESCO World Heritage Site. The bits are like fragments from a lost civilization: Jenny Heishman's foamy lion, Offenbacher's coituslike Narcissus ashtray, Bennett's achingly degraded drawing of a disco ball. (Howard House, 604 Second Ave, 256-6399. 10:30 am–5 pm, free.) by Jen Graves

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Attention fans of smart drag, performance art, and/or Joni Mitchell: Do not miss Paved Paradise: Redux, a jaw-dropping musical tribute to the life and art of Joni Mitchell by NYC performance artist John Kelly. Loping about in his blond wig and purring autobiographical Joni-isms, Kelly lands first as a comic marvel, but then he picks up a guitar or dulcimer and begins to sing a Mitchell composition, and Joni is there. Truly amazing (and the real Joni loves it). (Triple Door, 216 Union St, 838-4333. 7:30 pm, $22 adv/$25 DOS, 17+.) by David Schmader

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Beloved local shadow-puppet master Scot Augustson—the mind behind Sgt. Rigsby & His Amazing Silhouettes—remounts his 2006 hit about spooky kids, tequila-based time travel, and a history-destroying stationary bicycle. "The action is performed by silhouettes in a large light box adorned like an early-century vaudeville set and narrated by radio actors transplanted from the 1940s," wrote Brendan Kiley in his original review. "A Terrible Price for Whimsy passes contemporary comedy (lewd and vicious with a secret, distraught tenderness at its heart) through the kidneys of old-timey aesthetics. The result is funny. And bawdy. And wonderful." (Theatre Off Jackson, 409 Seventh Ave, www.brownpapertickets.com. 8 pm, $15.) by David Schmader

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Seattle experimental label Aphonia Recordings presents a live soundtrack to Phantom of the Opera—not the Andrew Lloyd Webber schlocksical but the 1925 silent film starring Lon Chaney Sr., whose skeletal grin, rotted golf-ball eyes, and leprous, ski-jump nose still give me the creeps. With Derek M. Johnson, Rachel Carns, Heather Hall, and Daniel Buscher, who reprise their performance from the 25th Olympia Film Festival. (Gallery 1412, 1412 18th Ave, www.gallery1412.org. 8 pm, free, but donations accepted.) by Christopher DeLaurenti

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You must see this work of art by Eve Sussman and a group of performers called the Rufus Corporation, because when you do, you will learn something about yourself. Rape of the Sabine Women is a huge, elaborate, sexy, self-important, beautiful movie layered with references to neoclassical paintings (Poussin, David, Rubens) depicting the mythical tale of the founding of Rome. It lasts 80 minutes and moves from a 1960s house party to an International Style airport to an elongated, smoke-machined, dancelike sequence of writhing bodies in an amphitheater. Will you love it, or will you hate it? (Henry Art Gallery, 4100 15th Ave NE, 543-2280. 11 am–5 pm, $10. Through March 22.) by Jen Graves

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