Greenland
DC9, Saturday, October 13

With dense imagery and a penchant for alliterative allusions to nature and sex, Greenland's oblique, ironic narratives of romance and remorse may set off from dubious parties, dull commutes, and bedrooms that smell like hangovers, but they always seem to end up quite literally lost in the woods or adrift at sea, lingering in nostalgia and steeped in folklore (yet nagged by beeping cell phones). The vocal delivery swings between the wry confessional tone of Leonard Cohen and the dark stridency of Ian Curtis, and the trio follows accordingly, ripping through propulsive, sinuous songs -- bolstered by melodic bass lines and vocal harmonies -- that place them closer to Teenbeat than Dischord in DC's indie rock taxonomy. They can be dirty like Sonic Youth and clean like the Clean; like Guided by Voices, they're equally at home in a variety of forms, from tossed-off poetic fragments to brisk pop hits to lengthy lyrical sagas. And why not throw Pavement in there, while we're at it. Yes, they can be ramshackle, on record and on stage, but they've come a long way from their humble debut at Yanni's Total Wedding emporium (don't ask). These days they're regulars on most stages around DC, including the Black Cat, the Rock and Roll Hotel, and Fort Reno; they also count New York venues like Cake Shop and Pianos as notches on their bedpost.