(Flyer via Aviv/ Facebook)

(Flyer via Aviv/ Facebook)

Wow guys, big week for the DIY scene: Aviv turns a whole one year old. And actually, that’s kinda getting up there in DIY years. Though, of course, we wish them many more. The Greenpoint venue has wasted no time in becoming pretty much the (true) DIY spot in North Brooklyn. To celebrate, Aviv is hosting a b-day party on Saturday featuring Bambara, Parlor Walls, and word on the street (er, on Facebook) is that an appearance is inevitable by one Ronnie Stone— quite possibly Brooklyn’s only leather-licking, “Moldovan” ’80s-fetish band fronted by a keytar-wielding, struttin’ mustache. Definitely don’t miss this banger. Details on that show and more to preoccupy you in all that might-as-well-be-dead time from now till then. 

Aviv Birthday Party 
Saturday Nov. 21st, 6 pm at Aviv: $8 in advance, $10 at the door

To celebrate the persistence of BK’s newish biggest-est DIY venue, Aviv is gathering some bands that happen to be pals and pals that happen to be really good at being in a band. And though this bill is longer than most, it contains the diversity of acts you’ve come to expect from Aviv.

Bambara is a Brooklyn post-punk outfit by way of Athens, Georgia, though you’d be hard pressed to guess this based on “An Ill Son.” The band shared this new track back in September and it’s indicative of a major creative shift that leads us to believe they were birthed from the womb of Nick Cave instead of the South. Apparently moving away from a shapeless, though heavy noise rock sound, they’ve acquired some bluesy, brooding glam on their second time tumbling out the birth canal. (If you’re really, really feeling this new Bambara direction, they’re also playing a show Thursday night at Alphaville along with Creepoid, Longings, and Slur.)

We’ve also got Alyse Lamb of EULA’s new band Parlor Walls to look forward to. These guys are working overtime in a serious way after releasing their first EP, Cut, last week. I was just reminded by a friend named Wikipedia that PW’s Cut shares its name with The Slits’ 1979 record, and the two bands actually do have some interesting traits in common. Though PW’s style is certainly moodier and jazzier, The Slits’ trademark discordant pop playfulness is there too.

And from the Mama Coco’s Funky Kitchen crew comes No Ice, a veritable choir of a band that manages to sound like an entire drunken party of ironic pop couple-bands advising their listeners to “Fuck and Run,” among other things.

(Flyer via The Acheron/ Facebook)

(Flyer via The Acheron/ Facebook)

Puberty Wounds, Slav, Wad
Tuesday Nov. 17th, 8 pm at The Acheron: $8

Sometimes you just want buckets of noxious, slop-punk garble dumped all over your dang head and the expertly-named Puberty Wounds have been delivering such a blessing from the Great Midwest since 2011. The Columbus, Ohio-born band pick from the ranks of Nervosas (who have been fawned over by Noisey and the like) and slay under the moniker: “Pissed off, but for a reason,” which seems not entirely earnest, but if we interpret it as such it’s true in that they go above and beyond simple baditude. If their name and style are indication of anything, they’re doing this in honor of those of us for whom puberty is a hell we can never get far enough away from, but at the same rate can’t be described as adult in any way, shape, or form.

Slav is holding it down for the local yokels with their particular brand of hardcore that necessitates ALL CAPS and EXCLAMATION POINTS !!! How else are we going to know they actually mean it? Well actually, just press play. If you haven’t heard their tape Slav II yet (it rolled out onto the brown carpet late summer), get to it. You might be surprised by what you hear. On the one hand, Slav are steeped in the mores of NYCHC– c’mon, you can practically taste their swagger levitating off that magnetic tape– but on the other, every now and then they offer a loosened, inebriated sway that’s much more more characteristic of the headliner’s lot. More please. One last character on the lineup remains unexplained and unaccounted for: Wad. Wait and deal? I suppose we shall.

(Flyer via Pitchfork/ Facebook)

(Flyer via Pitchfork/ Facebook)

Tinnitus Music Series: Oneohtrix Point Never
Friday Nov. 20th, 9 pm at Villain: $20

Yeah, we know. Twenty bucks is kinda ouch. Especially since this is happening at 50 North 3rd Street, the Williamsburg rent-a-venue space operated by Villain (an event planning and creative agency). I mean, there are Ugg ads ALL over this event page. But it’s cool, we get it– Tinnitus is a big, brandy deal brought to you by Pitchfork and The Blackened Music Series. We can forgive the feeling of being implicated in branding for the excellent lineups they fashion that feature “composers of extreme sound.” Oneohtrix Point Never (aka Daniel Lopatin)– maybe one of the most followed, imitated, and critically-adored producers of the Pitchfork-set– is no exception.

As per any successful producer’s nature, this guy’s catalogue is enormous and spans across chill electronic dreamscapes to hip-hop beats to jazz fusion even. Lopatin is nothing if not an equal opportunity creator who seems to soak up influences and inspiration like a really smart sponge. It goes without saying, but be sure to throw on your adventure suit and dancing pants because we imagine you’re going to be inspired to jostle about a bit more than you do at the usual noise show (though believe it or not, Oneohtrix is no stranger).

Correction: a previous version of this article stated that Oneohtrix Point Never was on the bill at a Tinnitus show along with Stephen O’Malley of Sunn O))) back in October at National Sawdust. Oheohtrix was not on that bill

(Flyer via Palisades/ Facebook)

(Flyer via Palisades/ Facebook)

Gingerlys, Total Slacker, Holy Tunics, Melt

Wednesday Nov 18th, 8 pm at Palisades: Free

“Get to the chopper!” Is exactly what the members of Gingerlys would scream at you if they could. Actually, we can’t imagine anyone’s voice in Gingerlys rising much above that very particular whisper so common on sweet nothings-riddled ’90s teen tragi-com soundtracks. Despite the lack of a brutish chopper call, we still think it’s a good idea you make haste and go see them.

We’re always game for a Total Slacker show, and with their perfectly lovable nostalgia-inducing garage rock, they’re wonderfully suited to add to the feeling of being inside a warm womb we’re betting this show will induce. Sounds gross? Well, we didn’t mean it that way.

Holy Tunics equally remind me of a band I once knew, or maybe a long lost summer. Whatever sign this band is, their planet is in full bloom right now. There’s no better time for stripped-down, bare-footed diet-psych rock than right before winter pukes on all of us for endless, endless weeks.

Three groovy guys and one girl with a fondness for beanies, all from New Jersey, form the fabric of Melt. The band sounds like they’re on their way to something mellow, but well-executed. If we’re to believe anything from their one lil song on the interwebs, Melt are hyper-attuned to matters of the heart and present the distinct possibility that you’ll be intrigued to hear more.