The Stranger

Howard Barlow takes base materials riddled with bullet holes (mini-kegs, say), coats them with luscious paint, then affixes to them antlers wearing knit antler sweaters. Ries Niemi cracks wise in embroidered handkerchiefs. Nathan DiPietro paints twisted idylls (one pictured at left), channeling Bruegel and Thomas Hart Benton. And those are just three of the dozen artist members of PUNCH Gallery. To raise money for the artist-run space, they've hung a group show, and every person who comes through the door can buy a chance to win the entire exhibition by these vital local artists—for only 10 bucks a pop. (PUNCH Gallery, 119 Prefontaine Pl S, 621-1945. Noon–5 pm, free to see/$10 for a chance to win.) by Jen Graves

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The blogosphere's ablaze about Kurt Vile, a Philadelphia-based singer-songwriter who makes low-fidelity nonchalance an asset. Believe the hype. Vile's 2008 collection Constant Hitmaker repurposes Lee Hazlewood's hazily touching, sung-out-the-side-of-his-mouth ballads and light rockers for late-'00s sensibilities. His new Childish Prodigy beefs up the production values and rocks harder, but it retains Vile's knack for poignantly deadpan melodies and acute, spare arrangements. Less is more, more or less. (High Dive, 513 N 36th St, 632-0212. 9:30 pm, $8 adv/$10 DOS, 21+.) by Dave Segal

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Following Friday's opening-night gala screening of the Quentin Crisp biopic An Englishman in New York and last night's Peaches-Christ-and-Mink-Stole-enhanced late-night screening of the John Waters classic Desperate Living, the 2009 SLGFF marches into its first of two weeks devoted to state-of-the-art queer cinema. Today brings two worthy documentaries: Edie & Thea: A Very Long Engagement (4:30 pm at the Egyptian) and The Butch Factor (2:15 pm at NWFF). For the full schedule, visit www .threedollarbillcinema.org. (Oct 16–25, various locations.) by David Schmader

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Shoegaze rock can be too airy, effete, and precious for its own good. Brooklyn's A Place to Bury Strangers counteract that tendency with mushroom clouds of caustically fuzzy noise that draws on the Jesus and Mary Chain's Psychocandy and the more overdriven moments of My Bloody Valentine's catalog. Their sound is more clamorous than glamorous, but A Place to Bury Strangers don't totally jettison melodies. They just bury them deep in the maelstrom, where their moody contours seem even more alluring. (Crocodile, 2200 Second Ave, www.thecrocodile.com. 8 pm, $10, 21+.) by Dave Segal

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The underground-drag-chanteuse-turned-international-drag-sensation Joey Arias has had a glorious run of late, wrapping up a five-year stint with Cirque du Soleil and cocreating the award-winning stage show Arias with a Twist with visionary puppeteer Basil Twist. But tonight at the Triple Door, Arias returns to what first made him famous: his uncanny channeling of Billie Holiday, whose music he'll perform along with original works, accompanied by Eliot Douglass. (Triple Door, 216 Union St, 838-4333. 8 pm, $25, 17+.) by David Schmader

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When Ellen Garvens last showed her sculptures at Davidson Galleries, they sat forlornly in rooms bathed in natural light and resembled prostheses under development—prostheses for bodies similar to ours but alien, their lost limbs familiar but charismatically unrecognizable. These uncanny creations were at a safe distance then: pictured in photographs. Now, in a new show, the University of Washington teacher/artist sets some of her creations in the same room with us, sharing the same air and light. They might make our bodies wonder about themselves. (Jacob Lawrence Gallery, University of Washington School of Art, 685-1805. Noon–4 pm, free.) by Jen Graves

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