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It’s hard to ignore three loft-dwellers from Brooklyn who title their songs after Fleetwood Mac singles and have a lead singer who sounds like a (mostly unintelligible) Gordon Gano while dressing like a member of Team Zissou. So, despite our best efforts, Sexy Neighbors have not escaped our attentions. There’s a bristling fervor to their distorted drone-angst meant for headbobbing in the exact abandoned warehouse in which you’ll find yourself tonight. Fate, meet circumstance—now drink Pabst out of a mini cooler.
Sat., April 3, 8 p.m., 2010