Rasputina is two chicks wielding amped-up cellos and a groove-heavy dude drummer a many-headed beast of baroque pop, rock 'n' roll and classic songsmithing. Its songs slide gracefully from gentle refrain to coarse exhortation. Harry Nilsson and Dorothy Parker would've been fans. Lovely Kansas-born bandleader Melora Creager's too smart to go for the musically and lyrically obvious; on the band's sixth album, this year's Oh Perilous World, she builds wordplay from journalistic bits and phrases nicked from the everyday. And, in Rasputina's hands, each song becomes a monument to melancholy or a purposely gaudy movement that summons graying cityscapes. Sure, Creager's stalker-inspiring Victorian glam could redden Steven Tyler and put flutters in Tori Amos' trou, but the record faintly reminds you that the universe is female, that musical power and charge isn't about volume and chest hair; it's about grace and command. It's amazing like that. Here Melora Creager gives her monomanias:
5. Grow yer own: I love the five little delicious asparagus that popped up in my yard.
4. A confederacy of dunces: I hate how hardly anyone wants to think.
3. Wig out: I wish I had time to make some cool wiglets for this tour.
2. Diana Ross' DUI: I can't wait to drive through Arizona.
1. Earth day!: I wonder if the Earth will turn inside out when we pass the black hole at the center of the universe in December of 2012?
Saturday, July 7, at the Magic Stick, 4120 Woodward Ave., Detroit; 313-833-9700; 8 p.m.; all ages.
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