Magik Markers | Theater Critic's Choice | Chicago Reader

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This noise trio, formed in Hartford but now dispersed to Chicago, Brooklyn, and Montreal, radiates an oxymoronic vibe that's half hermit mystique and half teen-lust dry hump. Last year's I Trust My Guitar, Etc. (Ecstatic Peace/Apostasy) is alluring and antagonizing, the kind of tangle that hints at some royally entertaining band infighting: Pete Nolan whacks at his drums like he thinks he has to prove his masculinity (or make up for how low his mikes are turned down), and Leah Quimby and Elisa Ambrogio scribble on guitar and/or bass like dirtbag punks, cutting electric orange streaks through his rattling and thumping. (The band's new Gulcher CD, A Panegyric to the Things I Do Not Understand, isn't much different.) Ambrogio, the band's de facto front woman, treats her guitar like an animal she has to fight off--she scratches it, steps on it, and even attacks it with electric toothbrushes, seemingly desperate to get the damn thing out of her life. She's a genius lyricist too, straddling beat poetry and witchcraft, drawing potent connections out of thin air--though I can't for the life of me remember her words once they're out of her mouth. Steep in it while you've got the chance--the Magik Markers are one of your classier noise bands and don't play seven shows a month for the same 15 people. Lambsbread and Matt Clark open. Wed 6/21, 9:30 PM, Empty Bottle, 1035 N. Western, 773-276-3600 or 866-468-3401, $8.

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