The Stranger

Michael Gira started out as a stentorian, horror-mongering frontman for his band Swans. In his Angels of Light and solo guises, he's gradually mellowed into a stark, end-times crooner somewhere between Leonard Cohen and Nick Drake. His pitiless lyrics and morose music put a death grip on your soul. Gira signed Larkin Grimm to his Young God label—her eccentric, intimate vocals; sexually frank lyrics; and weird-folk songcraft on the new Parplar prove her to be a worthy disciple. (Tractor Tavern, 5213 Ballard Ave NW, 789-3599. 9 pm, $15, 21+.) by Dave Segal

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Claudio Monteverdi was the first great opera composer, but his works are small, unusual, and rarely staged. Pacific Operaworks' Return of Ulysses (March 11–21 at the Moore) is a great exception. Another one: the chance to peek in on rehearsals while experiencing Mary Temple's nearly invisible painting installations; Dawn Clements's painstaking charcoal drawing of an entrapping apartment; Ed Ruscha's photographic documentation of every building on the Sunset Strip; and Claire Cowie's lusciously painted ceramic moths mounted on pins, lined up by the light. Just don't disturb the singers. (Western Bridge, 3412 Fourth Ave S, 838-7444. Noon–6 pm, free.) by Jen Graves

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Critics across America and Europe have been hyperventilating about this New York company, named after a passage in Kafka's Amerika. Their No Dice is a four-hour experiment in the transcendent mundane, with text drawn from recorded telephone conversations. The gestures—plucked from videos of street magicians, people dancing in clubs, and a Slovak woman telling a story—are organized using a deck of playing cards. The actors also play a game with each other, using 13 positions taken from melodrama. The New York Times called No Dice "rare" and "wondrous." This is its Seattle debut. (On the Boards off-site performance, 1100 Eastlake Ave E, fifth floor, 217-9888. 7 pm, $24. March 5–8.) by Brendan Kiley

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Do you like dogs? Do you like crazy people? Do you like crazy dogs? Do you like gigantic dogs that look like dragons? Do you like tiny dogs that look like fucked-up mice? Do you like a woman combing a Pomeranian's butt hair while wearing a sweatshirt that says "Happiness Is Combing a Pomeranian's Butt Hair"? Do you like a lady and a dog doing a choreographed dance together to the soothing tones of "Circle of Life"? Then you will love the dog show more than you have ever loved anything in your long, lonely life. (Qwest Field Events Center, 800 Occidental Ave S, 381-7555. 7 am–6 pm, $10.) by Lindy West

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At the top of the Gomorrah poster rests a press quote hailing the film as "the greatest mob movie ever made," a claim that reflexively calls up all other contenders to the title—GoodFellas, The Godfather(s), Once Upon a Time in America—before the two and a half gritty hours of Gomorrah relegates them all to the romance bin. Matteo Garrone's intricately realistic portrait of life under the Naples crime syndicate the Camorra is a mafia flick in which every hint of glamour is killed. It's a great gesture and a great movie. (See Movie Times: thestranger.com/film.) by David Schmader

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Those who watched K'naan, "the dusty foot philosopher," open for Damian "Welcome to Jamrock" Marley a few years ago at the Showbox witnessed the birth of a new hiphop star. Originally from Somalia, and currently based in Toronto, K'naan makes a hiphop that is the meeting point of two musical cultures: black African and black American. On some tracks, he rhymes over hardcore hiphop beats; on other tracks, over thundering African beats; and on one track, over no beats. K'naan is the definition of an organic intellectual; he gives back with the knowledge of rap. (Neumos, 925 E Pike St, 709-9467. 8 pm, $10, all ages.) by Charles Mudede

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