There was a feature story in music-nerd magazine Wire called “The Lo-Fi Vision of R. Stevie Moore.” It ran with a cover photo of the curmudgeon-genius with his white Santa Claus hair and long frizzy beard. How does a virtually unknown 62-year-old, who only ever home-recorded his albums on cassette tapes and digital CD-Rs (more than 400 since 1968!) in Nowheresville, New Jersey, suddenly land on the cover of a prestigious British magazine? Because he finally got discovered. Not unlike the freaky-simple songs of Daniel Johnston, Moore will shock and woo you with his irony-free authenticity. You’ll watch the godfather of DIY with awe. Think Ween meets Wesley Willis—but oh so much better. (Chop Suey, 1325 E Madison St,, 8 pm, $10 adv/$12 DOS, 21+)

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