The Stranger

Don't be misled: Blues Control won't be grinding out rote Muddy Waters or Willie Dixon covers. Rather, the Queens duo works in more hazily indefinable strata. Their self-titled 2007 album ran myriad avant-rock tropes through mutational and cosmic processes. This year's Local Flavor elevates Blues Control's game even higher, soaring into glorious Popol Vuh–like mantras and purveying a rarefied brand of dub that's unfathomably aquatic and deeply spacious. This paradox spotlights the distinctiveness of these atypical New Yorkers. (Funhouse, 206 Fifth Ave N, 374-8400. 9:30 pm, $7, 21+.) by Dave Segal

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First, Heather McHugh was a genius. In 2007, she became a Stranger Genius. Last month, she became a MacArthur Genius. If God gave Celestial Genius Awards, she'd be next in line. Her poems are nimble and clever, riddles that rhyme. Her newest book, Upgraded to Serious, contains letters to God and brooding comedy about the cosmos, such as her short poem "The Microscope": "Through petri dishes' rings/life is transmogrified. When we/look into things, we see/[blank line]/there's space inside." Even her typography has rhythm—and it's in on the joke. (Elliott Bay Book Company, 101 S Main St, 624-6600. 7 pm, free.) by Brendan Kiley

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The most enjoyable thing about Good Hair is not its (almost uncritical) exploration of the booming, recession-proof black-hair economy but its narrative of four hairstylists who are preparing to compete at the annual International Hair Show in Atlanta. Two of the hairstylists are black women, one is a white man, and one is a black man who wears high heels. It is impossible for the white hairstylist not to be a very curious character—he even looks a little like Bruno. The contest at the end is thrilling and presents an excellent mirror to a key Marxist insight about the limits of capital (more about this when everyone has seen the documentary). (See Movie Times: thestranger.com/film.) by Charles Mudede

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There's a scene in the addenda to Dave Eggers's A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius in which the author, while kayaking, is overwhelmed by the sight of a killer whale leaping, Free Willy–style, out of the ocean in close proximity. That scene is all I can think of when trying to describe the impossible ebullience with which Dirty Projectors' Dave Longstreth yelps the words "Bitte orca!" halfway through the recent album of the same name, over an avalanche of avant-Afropop guitar. The album is a revelatory balancing act, as Longstreth's confounding arrangements coalesce again and again into irresistible melodies. (Neumos, 925 E Pike St, 709-9467. 8 pm, $15, 21+.) by Eric Grandy

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Though David Belisle is 10 feet tall, he has a unique knack for barely being there. The gorgeously unpretentious and intimate moments he captures make you feel like you're looking at someone's family album—if that family included Patti Smith, Karen O, Neil Young, and Fleet Foxes. This new exhibit includes candids and portraits, as well as landscapes taken during Belisle's time spent touring the world with R.E.M. and Yeah Yeah Yeahs. The show will be extra sweetened with a live set by Tiny Vipers. (Easy Street Records, 4559 California Ave SW, 938-3279. 7 pm [Tiny Vipers at 9 pm], free.) by Kelly O

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Today brings two worthy opportunities to commemorate the man who would be King of Pop. The Kenny Ortega–directed film This Is It documents rehearsals for Jackson's would-be comeback shows and sloppily accomplishes the impossible: rehumanizing Michael Jackson, presented here as a tireless, meticulous, generous, and witty working artist. And at the Seattle Laser Dome, Laser Michael Jackson blasts the man's greatest hits over a high-quality sound system with entertaining lights. (For This Is It showtimes, see Movie Times: thestranger.com/film. Seattle Laser Dome, Seattle Center, 443-2850. 8 pm, $8.50.) by David Schmader

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