(El Corazon) Listening to Dogbreth feels like that magical, dreamy high you get from lounging in the sun for too long. The heart-soaring power-pop gems the Phoenix band writes are filled with posi-vibes and guitar riffs that reach Pinkerton-level sing-along status, perfect for blasting on speakers lying next to a lake until it's too hot and you have to jump in the water again. Tristan Jemsek's lyrics deal in big feelings peppered with funny observations—last year's excellent Sentimental Health is filled with love songs and odes to new friends who'll help you fix a flat on your bike. True to its title, the album manages to be endearingly heartfelt in a way that still totally rocks. Headlining the show are fellow Arizona existential folk-punk heroes Andrew Jackson Jihad, who will definitely take the show to a darker, more jaded lyrical place than Dogbreth. But nothing will be able to shake your vitamin D high. ROBIN EDWARDS
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It's a mesh- and lace-covered night of synth pop, goth, post-punk, and industrial adoration, so prep your blackest of blacks (Vantablack, anyone?). Arizonian brother duo Body of Light's '80s synth-pop resurrection casts a sonic hex of unholy gothtronics, creating a pervasively sensual sound that demands movement. The night stays spooky with goth-spaced sounds from Olympia/BC-based band Underpass, whose forward-moving bass lines are hallowed with a Robert Smith-esque, catatonic guitar/dream layer. Also on this talent-stacked lineup are Olympia "grunge"-gazers Broken Water, who deluge their listeners in murky wall-of-guitars and emotive, cascading Northwestern chord constructions. Elsewhere on this totally "Vantablack" bill, Oakland electro-darkwave outfit Some Ember's icy pulses should move reluctant, pigment-deprived bodies onto the floor, while Window will get abrasive with their thrashed industrial-metal crunch. Black Lodge, 9 pm. BRITTNIE FULLER
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Recording for well-regarded labels like NNA Tapes, Digitalis, and Aguirre, Paris-born Je Suis Le Petit Chevalier (aka Felicia Atkinson) peddles electro-dream-pop and psychedelic-drone compositions that tickle your subconscious with wanly beautiful melodies and faint vocals that outwhisper Vashti Bunyan. By contrast, R.M. Francis generates rivulets of ruptured, highly warped and pulverized tones that sound like a 21st-century Xenakis on meth. His set at Debacle Fest was a feast for lovers of spazzed-out, extreme frequencies. The last time I saw Olympia-based guitarist/electronics Total Life live, opening for Fuck Buttons at the Crocodile, he put the “iteration” in obliteration; it was a total Zen-noise wipeout, like minimalist composer Éliane Radigue’s infinitesimal whorling drones blown up with a nuclear missile. DAVE SEGAL
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And here's all our recommended music events—tonight, tomorrow, and beyond!