What’s bewildering about Brooklyn’s White Magic: a meager trickle of recorded material. What’s awesome about White Magic: what material does exist – including an album here, buncha EPs there, some singles – is amazing in a “psychedelic baroque gin-joint” kind of way, with Mira Billotte’s strident chants and and math-piano moxie burrowing in through your third eye. This music is a contradiction: noose-tight and flower-child billowing. It’s makers deserve more respect, and a boundless cult.
Wed., June 25, 9 p.m., 2014