Andy Friedman


Here’s what happens to twang when it steeps in Brooklyn gin joints instead of Austin honky-tonks: it becomes a bit darker and more gnarled, and though it likes the sun on its back, it can thrive in the shadows. Friedman’s new Laserbeams and Dreams is peppered with the kind of bluesy unrest that sets your mind reeling, and between the Jerry Jeff whimsy and Michael Hurley rumination, it’s a great soundtrack for the worries that arrive during late-winter dusk. Jen Chapin shares the bill.

Sat., March 12, 8:30 p.m., 2011