Like a hungry nail driven through the business end of a stiff wooden club, Woman is just looking for a head to split open. The Brooklyn quartet rattles and stomps in gristly chunks, and their particular take on streetwalking, endearingly bent punk-blues seems to find its way into your life via a side door you didn’t know existed, forcing sweat into blood or acute memory loss. K-Holes’ fried, frazzled mess doesn’t disappoint, either, unless you’re the guy they just robbed. With Degreaser, Love Butchers.

Sun., Oct. 9, 8 p.m., 2011