New Jersey garage trio Screaming Females play tonight at Healthy Times along with Rvivr, Tacocat, Stickers, and Pony Time. Here's what I wrote about Screaming Females back in May:

New Jersey trio Screaming Females have only one female, singer/guitarist Marissa Paternoster, and her vocal style is as often a kind of an exaggerated, declarative sotto voce as it is an overdriven scream. But even when her singing is dialed down, the band makes a mighty racket, bashing out fuzz-fucked, triumphalist rock with flailing guitar solos. The robust rhythm section of bassist King Mike and drummer Jarrett Dougherty keeps lively time but mostly stays out of the way of Paternoster's hot-wired, steamrolling playing. It's not all screaming and shredding either, as evidenced by the band's chugging cover of Neil Young's "Cortez the Killer" or the original "I Do"; the latter is a ridiculously poppy midtempo number whose bright melodies and vocal hook emerge from a smother of distortion, worthy of scoring a mid-'90s TV montage, say, something from The Adventures of Pete & Pete.

Meanwhile, former Seattlite and current San Franciscan Deceptikon is down at Lo-Fi for Stop Biting tonight along with ER Don, Absolute Madman, and the weekly night's regulars. Here's what Dave Segal had to say about Deceptikon's latest, Mythology of the Metropolis, for a recent Data Breaker:

Mythology of the Metropolis consists of 14 examples of crisp, vibrant, post-Dilla instrumental hiphop, with flashes of pretty IDM melodies and late-'00s bass wobble. Deceptikon keeps the head-nod factor high while wrenching out some interesting, exotic melodies. "Echolocation" genuflects to the Far East with its fluttering, quasi-Zen garden motif (à la Philip Glass in his Mishima soundtrack) set amid splatting, stalwart funk beats. "Indo Loops" also is riveting, with its distorted (presumably Indian) chant warbling over a sinuous synth drone, staunch Madlib-elous clapper beats, and furious, pitch-shifted tabla slaps. "The Fall of Humanity" majestically glides like 1977 Kraftwerk, while "Dissolving in Acid" lives up to its title, running crinkly Roland 303 squiggles through a dense thicket of kick-drum thump and toxic squalls of low-end pressure. "Broken Synthesizers" growls and bristles like a peak-time Cannibal Ox/El-P joint.

MPC sampler maestro (and Tyler Swan collaborator #327) ER Don is not to be missed, either; last time I saw him, dude painfully upstaged Four Tet:

ER Don frankly stole the show, with both the best sounding set and the best live setup. ER Don's Robert Nelson records his own live electric/acoustic instrumentation into his trusty Akai MPC sampler and then chops his recordings up live to great effect. Last night, he added a Moog analog synthesizer and a laptop (sequencing the synth, I'm guessing) to his usual setup, he had his different instrument outputs routed through the appropriate amps—guitar samples through guitar amps, bass through a bass amp, etc—and he was joined on live drums by Tyler Swan of Foscil/Truckasauras. The result was the most full, live sounding set than I've ever heard from ER Don, eschewing jarring fragmentation for cohesive jams. The guitar and bass sounded like they were being played by phantom musicians onstage, the analog synth was bright and slippery with portamento. It all sounded less like a producer edging towards a full band by adding a drummer and more like a full band condensed and evoked via MPC. They really made themselves a fine match for Four Tet's eclectic and expert sound—there were jazzy, off-kilter loops; there was motorik guitar riffing; there were miniature echos of Battles' weirdo prog funk (call them Skirmishes?). And it all sounded clear and powerful, with the bass rattling the windows.

Now you know.

Neutral Uke Hotel

(Sunset) I know this ukulele fad is one day going to be emblematic of the cuteness of the late '00s/early '10s, but I just can't stop being thrilled right now by the inventiveness and earnestness that people keep bringing to the ukulele as an instrument. Neutral Uke Hotel sounds like the Gimmicky King of Gimmicksville (a ukulele Neutral Milk Hotel cover band? Is Wes Anderson making a hidden-camera prank show now or something?), but the simple instrumentation—a melodica accompanies the ukulele on many tracks—really brings out the doleful harmonies of NMH's catalog. The whole thing feels tender and sweet and intimate and not precious at all. For music made with toy instruments, it's surprisingly moving. PAUL CONSTANT

Xenophon, Yokai No Uta, Blackpool Astronomy, Matthew Bergman

(Rendezvous) Seattle ensemble Yokai No Uta venture off on a series of musical tangents that baffle and enchant in equal measure. (Their iTunes genre, "Unclassifiable," is not an idle boast.) These musicians are playful, skillful, unpredictable, and possessed of fantastic aesthetics that uncannily keep them on the right side of the interesting/tedious divide. They are "experimental" in the best, least pretentious way possible. Much of their output comes off as improvised, gamelan-inflected psychedelia, but YNU can rock, too, in an unhinged Godz-like way. They also know rock history well, and can excitingly deconstruct beloved icons like the Beatles and the 13th Floor Elevators without making you want to kill them. Ask them politely to do "The Book of Weed" for maximum mind expansion. DAVE SEGAL

Jimmy Webb

(Triple Door) Jimmy Webb's compositions were inescapable in the 1960s and '70s. (Dude's royalty statements must be in the six figures annually.) Recording artists from Frank Sinatra to Elvis Presley to Glen Campbell to Isaac Hayes to Dennis Brown to Richard Harris couldn't get enough of his widescreen ballads and airy pop confections, which tread a fine line between sublimity and schmaltziness. (R.E.M. and Nick Cave later covered Webb songs, too.) Webb's hits include "MacArthur Park," "Galveston," "Up, Up and Away," "By the Time I Get to Phoenix," and "Wichita Lineman." The last named is one of those unbearably moving songs that—no matter how many times you hear it—never loses its power to moisten eyes and crack hearts while simultaneously inflating souls. Can "I need you more than want you/And I want you for all time" be surpassed as an expression of love? When set to that gently soaring, elated/deflated melody? Doubtful. DAVE SEGAL

And there's always more in our complete music calendar listings.