Brooklyn's dance mutants Telepathe are back from touring Cut Copy's corner of the Pacific, and are headlining an assuredly intimate, assuredly sweaty, assuredly packed show at Glasslands. Their rough-hewn club music owes as much to Animal Collective as it does to Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, aiming for the relentless billow of '80s club bangers, but attacking them with the naïve, sloppy, vulnerable feel of hand-stitched twee punks. Their outdoor performance at All Points West last summer was the best of both worlds: as intimate as you can make dubby wonder-surge in a rainy field, and as enormous as possible via stomach-churning, neon-puking bass tones. Plus they have dancers now! Openers Boy Crisis make leaner, meaner, nostalgia-sheener newish wave where the Fixx meets Rockwell on Bedford Avenue. With fellow Brooklyn blip-and-boogie sexy people in Apache Beat, Brahms, and Philly's decidedly more illwave Grandchildren.
Fri., Jan. 22, 9 p.m., 2010
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