Highlights

THE SLACKERS AT THE ROCKS OFF BOAT CRUISE

TUES., JULY 27

TO BE HONEST, third-wave ska musicians the Slackers were never my favorite band in the genre. Usually, I saw them only when they opened for a bigger name, like the punk-tinged Toasters or the roots-driven Skatalites (a clear Slacker influence). The band was a little too boundless; I never knew what to expect. But when their new five-song CD, International War Criminal, crossed my path, I was captivated by that familiar ska beat, paired with-but not overrun by-political lyrics. Perhaps encouraged by the street cred earned from collaborating with ska and reggae greats a few years back, the Slackers have stuck with it, continuing to produce experimental ska/reggae melodies heavy with harmonies.

This is their last local show before departing on a European summer tour. (They'll return later this year to hype a full-length release.) Still refreshingly small, the band continues to do their own thing, getting you to skank on water at one of Rocks Off's popular floating music concerts. Maybe my tastes have been refined, but now I'm intrigued by the band that was once just an afterthought. Or maybe when it comes to ska, I'll take whatever we can get.

The Half Moon, 23rd St. (FDR Dr.), 212-571-3304, 8, $25, $20 adv.

SARAH SHANOK

MAVIS STAPLES

THURS., JULY 22

LOUIE PEREZ of Los Lobos calls her "very incredible." Bob Dylan, who, like Los Lobos, collaborated with her recently, is also a longtime admirer. She was so influential on Prince that in the early 90s he sought her out, producing and co-writing an album with her. And that's just a handful of the many musicians who appreciate Mavis Staples' impact on American music, arguably on par with that of Aretha Franklin and the late Ray Charles.

Staples began singing alongside two of her siblings in her father Pop Staples' group, the Staple Singers, at age 10 when the group was performing Sunday services in the Staples' Chicago church. Before long, Mavis was sharing lead vocal duties with her father. From there, the Staple Singers' popularity spread outward and, as with Franklin and Charles, carried them beyond strict gospel into soul, r&b and funk territory and mass appeal, though they never lost their urgent spiritual fire. (Even during her collaboration with Prince, Staples stayed true to her spirituality, which is once again evinced in the title of her upcoming album, Have a Little Faith.)

The Staples' crossover, though, took social consciousness and artistic responsibility to a new level when, at the height of their popularity, they drew inspiration from none other than Martin Luther King Jr., and performed so-called "message" songs (once covering Stephen Stills to get their point across). They went on to appear in The Last Waltz, the film documenting the Band's farewell performance, got produced by Curtis Mayfield, recorded at legendary studio Muscle Shoals and even covered the Talking Heads before (more or less) calling it a day in the mid-80s.

Mavis made her solo debut in 1969 but continues to perform Staple Singers hits, which will make up the bulk of this performance. (Note: This show will not consist of Mahalia Jackson tribute material.)

Raves Perez: "It's amazing what she can still do."

Castle Clinton National Monument, Battery Park South End Ave. (W. Thames St.), 212-835-2789, 7, free.

SABY REYES-KULKARNI

DEVO

THURS. & FRI., JULY 22 & 23

"PEOPLE DON'T KNOW how quickly it can turn into an out-and-out police state. They don't believe it. They think it's some kind of Commie rap."

You might like to think these are paranoid rantings, but they're actually lucid, well-argued thoughts from Devo bassist and founder Gerry Casale, who speaks from personal experience. Though Devo, for the most part inactive since New Year's Eve 1990-91, registered briefly in mass consciousness with their 1980 hit, "Whip It," the lens of pop culture, of course, never took into account the anger and depth behind the band's scathing social criticism-not to mention their musical acuity or bold innovation, which ultimately had an impact on artists far outside the confines of new wave.

Believe it or not, Devo played synths with passion and soul. They also rocked, having formed in the midst of a cultural revolution. Casale was, quite literally, right in the middle of the 1970 student protests at Kent State. Then enrolled at the school along with Devo co-founder Mark Mothersbaugh, Casale witnessed two of his friends falling to the ground dead. A fundamental turning point in Casale's life, this event would cast a long shadow on the identity of the band.

"I stopped being a hippie that day," Casale says, "and I got really pissed off."

His ensuing rage would lay the groundwork for Devo's anti-establishment, anti-corporate agenda. Those who would dismiss Devo as quirky weirdos wearing flowerpots as headgear may benefit from reconsidering how the themes they addressed resonate ever more as corporate power gains an increasingly unrestrained stranglehold on society, which Casale calls "hi-tech feudalism." Forecasting current conditions some 25 years in advance, Devo responded by inventing an esoteric philosophy: de-evolution. Unfortunately, they chose irony as their main esthetic vehicle and, understandably, most people didn't get it; the band's chilling cultish image didn't help.

Their message, though, made sense: Human society, with all our technical advances, is actually regressing via overpopulation, intellectual degeneration, environmental damage, chemically tainted food and high-tech weaponry. One can therefore argue that Devo's run on Warner Bros. wasn't selling out, but rather a laudable attempt at subversion.

"We thought we could win."

These days, the band's fighting spirit seems pretty much defeated-apart from scattered shows, a full-scale reunion is not in the cards, and two other original members work for Mothersbaugh scoring tv commercials for major corporations. Though this capitulation is particularly hard to stomach (their first New York show in 16 years is a Nike event!), the power of the work from their prime remains undiminished. If anything, as an example of ferocity without brutality or hopelessness, Devo's star shines more brightly than ever.

"I'm not nihilistic," Casale explains. "I'm very sensitive to suffering and injustice."

As an added bonus, a showing of the tripped-out, iconoclastic artwork of Mark Mothersbaugh opens locally the day after the concerts. His attendance is likely.

On Thursday, Devo plays as part of Nike's Run Hit Wonder race. Runners must register to attend: runhitwonder.com; on Friday, they play Central Park Summerstage; the show is sold out. Mothersbaugh's "Beautiful Mutants" art show opens at Lit's Fuse Gallery on Sat, July 24; 93 2nd Ave. (betw. 5th & 6th Sts.), 212-777-7988.

SABY REYES-KULKARNI

MING + FS

THURS., JULY 22

I KNOW YOU, little neo-hippie. It's now okay to enjoy your favorite noodle-dancing jam band next to an electronic beat-making act. Which, honestly, makes perfect sense: It's a simple correlation between 60s acid psychedelia and 90s ecstasy-fueled raves. Ming + FS, two New York City producers of hiphop-oriented beats, will be holding a free show on the Hudson this coming Thursday with, like, dude, Particle.

I recently dropped by their studio and had a chat with Ming, who hails from Long Island. Between making beats for commercials and putting the finishing touches on their new album, Back to One, the 32-year-old producer has put a lot of thought into the disposable future of the recording industry. I sat for a while and let him vent his concern that American culture was going down the toilet and people are just getting dumber by watching too much of that reality television. Yeah, well, nothing new there.

So here's what you need to know: Ming and FS put on a great live show that separates them from most live jock sets. They use four turntables to incorporate live remixes into their sets of hiphop and drum 'n' bass breaks. They're comfortable slicing up modern pop and looping it over their original beats in a live setting. Believe me, it's quite difficult. Just ask the guy downstairs from you who has all those fancy mixing boards and large computer monitors blinking and screaming feedback all hours of the night. He can barely do it with all the time in the world. Imagine the pressure of having to deconstruct, put it back together and keep people dancing.

But this isn't a show about techno wizardry. The boys from Hell's Kitchen want you to dance and get excited about seeing a live performance.

After playing in a slew of local bands, Ming became interested in electronic music by way of the rave scene. Who would have thought an industrial metal-head would go on to produce beats for Brandy, Coolio and a Nissan commercial? Reality still beats anything that's on television.

Hudson River Park, Pier 54 (13th St.), 212-791-2530, 7, free.

DAN MARTINO

SUICIDE

FRI., JULY 23

THERE'S A STUPID PHRASE that goes, "I was a punk before you were a punk." Generally, I take that to mean you were a sleazy, unemployed asshole then and that things haven't gotten much better but, damn it, you hung tight with Stiv Bators. Still, Suicide was there-at CBGBs, Max's and the Mercer Art Center before you. Heck, they opened for the New York Dolls the first time they were a garage act. Calling primal screamer/lyricist Alan Vega and synth-mauler Martin Rev-the duo that's made up Suicide since its 70s start-something as small as "punk" would be like calling Rossellini's Open City a nice Italian film. Theirs was the sound of tortured American characters more bloodied and stained-physically and psychologically-than the vets in Deer Hunter, if "Frankie Teardrop" is any indication.

That Suicide's clunking, skunky swirls of hypnotic electronic sounds, primitive drum-machine stair-steps and pulsing in-the-red screeches have over the years given way to dreamier, funky blobs of music and moodier Morrison-like vocals doesn't make their return any mellower. Their latest songs are Dachau-based death-disco, tracks more wretchedly inspired and horribly, irreversibly haunted by September 11 than anything Springsteen's chugging rock tunes could hope to aspire to.

With the Homosexuals [in exile], the Flesh, Umbrella Brigade, Sabotage Sound System: DJ Ray Velasquez VJ Vanessa Velasquez.

Knitting Factory, 74 Leonard St. (betw. B'way & Church St.), 212-219-3006, 9, $15/$20 dos.

A.D. AMOROSI

OJOS DE BRUJO

THURS., JULY 22

ANYONE EXPECTING only the heel-clicking, Spanish guitar stylings of flamenco when they stop to hear Ojos de Brujo will be disappointed. Disappointed, only because they will be forced to wrap their heads around this big band's massive attack of sounds and influences rife within the Catalonian outfit's clunky, fuzzy bits of Sufi, rumba, hiphop, ragga, turntablism and more, fused into the already frantic flamenco esthetic.

Conceived in the latter 90s by singer/lyricist Marina "la Canillas" Abad and percussionist Xavi Turull, OdB's initial mix of rumba catalana and flamenco puro got infected, favorably, by outsider music from its start. Think of OdB's weird rumba in the same way Tropicalistas Gil, Ze and Veloso's love of psychedelia and avant garde pop took hold of the traditional samba and bossa of Brazil in the 60s. By force.

With that, OdB's new CD Barí makes sense in that the album's title comes from its own form of derivation. Taken from Caló, the Gypsy (Roma) dialect of Spain, Barí means "finding the groove in life." But finding just one particular groove through the brightly colored, tech-heavy mix filled with turntable scratches and swipes, vocal cut-ups, cajons, congas, timbales, cowbells and mandolins-to say nothing of what seems a violent blend of pounding flamenco guitar and thundering clapping and shouting-will be like finding a needle in a crack den.

S.O.B.'s, 204 Varick St. (Houston St.), 212-243-4940, 9, $25.

A.D. AMOROSI

MUM

SUN. & MON., JULY 25 & 26

MAKING CHAMBER-BASED beeping, scuffing, shuffling musique concrete would be enough if that's what Mum did. Like their 2000 debut, Yesterday Was Dramatic?Today Is OK and 2002's Finally We Are No One, their latest CD, Summer Make Good, Mum faces its hypnotic melodies and spooky arrangements of glitches and boings (as well as violas, melodicas, cellos and accordions) as looking to encounter their own shaky memories of childhood. That eerie slice of sense-memory probably comes from hearing the Valtysdottir sisters gurgle, google and chuckle like kids-as if trying to get out from under The Bad Seed. But the children within are corrosive without being nattering or chatty. These are children having private conversations.

With recording techniques centered on lighthouses isolated far and away from any humanity, the distance within each Mum-track is choice and chilly, of course. But their lye-soaked lullabies never depend on a wallpaper's ambience. Far from it. For such a fussy, even facile sound, there's a steely gustiness to Mum's languor, and by the time you reach the breathy, Jack-in-the-Box-tronics of "Will the Summer Make Good for All of Our Sins?" you'll feel as if you've been pulled through their wringer of wrongs and hurts. With Slowblow.

Bowery Ballroom, 6 Delancey St. (betw. Bowery & Chrystie St.), 212-533-2111, 9, $16.

A.D. AMOROSI

CARL HANCOCK RUX

SAT., JULY 24

RUX IS GIFTED with the righteous gab of Afrocentric militarism, its roots in emotionally rescued preaching and its present in holy-rolling wine-bar chattiness. He has made his twittering sing-speak into a rickety rock 'n' soul groove that uses "the old school" as a subtle touchstone to traditionalism while never remaining there too long. His first CD, Rux Revue, may have been a bit too literal-minded in its shouted-spoken approach to country funk, urban-decay decathlons and the male-centricity of a Saul Williams, but it was solid and graceful-a non-fronting first step to what his new CD, Apothecary RX-and his debut novel, Asphalt-would bring. Even on its denser, dour moments of "Eleven More Days" and "Disrupted Dreams," RX feels liberated, perhaps due in part to Rux's relaxed spoken hum atop the bubbling brew of bossa guitarist Vinicius Cantuaria and wordy rapping hood, Chocolate Genius.

Tonight, Rux will surely read Asphalt, a book taken with future apocalypses and the funky, oddly swaddled cast of characters littering that not-too-distant time in Brooklyn. In Asphalt, you get hetero guys in sequins and sarongs, back-from-Paris DJs and couch dancers named Couchette all vying for attention in a newly gentrifying netherworld that Rux ably and surrealistically, sweetly, ties together before the next set.

With N'Dea Davenport and Imani Uzuri.

Central Park SummerStage, 72nd St. (midpark), 212-360-CPSS , 3, free.

A.D. AMOROSI