I've always hated the term world music, not least because it's an even stupider euphemism than urban music (which is stupid for related reasons): anything that represented the music of the world (as opposed to a particular country, city, ethnic group, or artist) would have to be a hopeless mishmash. Or so I thought, until I heard Detroit's Immigrant Suns, who don't so much mash their influences together as roll around in them like an ecstatic mutt, picking up ideas like cockleburs. The music's base is Eastern European with a Mediterranean bent (their first album was called Montenegro, after cofounder Djeto Juncaj's homeland), but Antarctica is the only untapped continent--on the new Supernova, the Suns seem to be apologizing for having neglected the remoter bits of the southern hemisphere with "Botany Bay" and "Antipodes." The combination of sounds is almost always something you've never heard before and never will again except in Paradise. Supernova is their first album of new material in five years, but that's not a symptom of idleness--the band has ten members, none of whom seems able to sit still for very long, and the project is only growing (an expanded edition, the Immigrant Suns Orchestra, makes appearances on the album). For this show, however, they're going mean and lean--only six players are making the trip. Saturday, August 30, 9 PM, Beat Kitchen, 2100 W. Belmont; 773-281-4444.