WHAT TO DO TONIGHT:

In the 1990s, Boston’s Swirlies pushed the limits of what could be abrasive and poppy at the same time. That’s kind of Psychedelic Horseshit’s thing now, which might explain why these fairly different bands are touring together. Over five albums, Swirlies blended weirdly tuned atmospheric heaviness, Pastels-esque boy-girl vox, and unidentifiable skronk, landing on what was basically shoegaze for destructive librarians. Psychedelic Horseshit is more forest-bound and less cute, but for the most part just as damaged-sounding. Sometimes the Columbus, Ohio, group is labeled “shitgaze,” but that doesn’t quite work: The guitars tend to be inebriated and wiry; if anything’s colossal in Psychedelic Horseshit’s songs, it’s a busted synthesizer. But those are minor details. The point is your parents will hate both bands. —Jonathan L. Fischer

Swirlies perform with Psychedelic Horseshit and Wild Fruit at 9 p.m. at Rock & Roll Hotel, 1353 H St. NE. $12. 

WHAT TO DO TONIGHT:

At the time, Cibo Matto’s 1996 major-label debut Viva! La Woman may have seemed like goofy, flash-in-the-pan stuff—playground-rhymy and seemingly food-obsessed, with every song named after something edible. But at that point, American radio listeners were still recovering from the clinical depression of grunge, and seemed eager to champion anything that reconstructed their self-esteem—Rage Against the Machine directed teens’ anger away from themselves, toward the government; Marilyn Manson transformed geeks into goths; the Spice Girls shilled cheap “girl power” in miniskirts. But if they wanted something that wasn’t beating a message into their heads, listeners would have found that in Cibo Matto—a pair of Japanese transplants who made a statement without being so damn obvious about it. “I know my chicken/You got to know your chicken,” they sang, playfully, but true to the idiom’s meaning: Cibo Matto knew its stuff. Yuka Honda’s productions could be funky, loungy, or scattershot, but were consistently fastidious; Miho Hatori vocalized all over the map, from punk rock on “Birthday Cake” to the mostly chillaxed material on their second and last album, 1999’s Stereo Type A. Earlier on, the duo even unearthed prettiness in grunge, offering a serene cover of Soundgarden’s “Black Hole Sun” on its debut EP. The band split in 2001, but decided to reunite and record a new album in the aftermath of the Japanese tsunami and its path of destruction. Leave it to Cibo Matto to make art when people need it most. —Ally Schweitzer

Cibo Matto performs with Tony Castles at 8 p.m. at the Rock & Roll Hotel, 1353 H St. NE. $20. 

WHAT TO DO TONIGHT:

Gnarly guitar sounds are expected from a guy who makes his own amplifiers. But good songwriting, too? As it turns out, Ben Verellen, who owns Verellen Amps and fronts Seattle power trio Helms Alee, is not only a master of speaker cones and distortion tones. The ex-Harkonen guitarist also happens to be a font of musical ideas, proof of which can be found on Helms Alee’s second full-length, Weatherhead. The new album, a restless testament to the trio’s affection for moody folk rock and burly alt-metal, is brimming with stop-start changes. Just when you think you’ve got Weatherhead figured out, Helms Alee will hit you with a hip-hop satire (“8/16”), or make a quick sketch of Spain (“Anemone of the Wound”), or do something few hard rock acts would dare: sing a cappella (“Revel!”). All of this works because the trio is so effortlessly competent. Drummer Hozoji Matheson-Margulis is a polyrhythmic powerhouse, and both Verellen and bassist Dana James are strong and complementary singers. Verellen, in particular, has a hearty, pulse-quickening roar that could stand in for a broken amp. Of course, given his talents, lack of amplification is something Helms Alee doesn’t have to worry about. —Brent Burton

Helms Alee performs at 10 p.m. with Big Business and Torche at the Rock & Roll Hotel, 1353 H St. NE. $13 in advance, $15 at door.