Year: 2004

We’re not sure where the line lies between traditional folk music and contemporary world music, but we know Rokia Traoré seems to work both sides of the equation beautifully. Whereas we’ve recently been obsessed with Nordic roots—particularly Swedish sirens paired with cold dirges of
distortion and modern big beats—we also hanker for the more homespun varieties that work better in live settings without computers and amplifiers. Traoré, a quiet and gifted singer, works in the traditional Malian mode with plenty of Western influences. But since she continues to use old-time instrumentation (guitars, lutes, marimbas), hers is the sound of dusty African streets more than sterile German sound labs, despite recent disc-dabblings with multi-tracking and chamber
quartets. 416 Cedar Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-338-2674; www.thecedar.org

The title of Waits’ new record seems to reference his favorite themes: lost love, lost lives, and a lost mind. Think of it as an elegant soundtrack by which to warm your hands over a trash-can fire. As with any new Waits recording, expect a loose mix of broken-down hipster calliope music, dark tales, and bluesy hollerin’ that have made the man the freakishly cool icon that he is. Conspicuously absent, however, is his signature piano, replaced with turntables (courtesy of Waits’ son Casey) that provide a jerky percussion element. African and Latin rhythms mixed in with Waits’ own take on the human beat box create what we can only describe as a “hobo groove.” In his own fingerless-glove kind of way, Waits describes making records as “Capturing birds or photographing ghosts, an uncertain enterprise.” Please adopt us. Available October 5

It comes as no surprise that the Libertines’ instant cool factor had much to do with the fact that their debut album was produced by the Clash’s M.I.A. Mick Jones, granting them the ultimate punk-rock seal of approval. An appropriately snotty attitude with Kinks-like melodies made the first record, Up the Bracket, hugely lovable, and topped critics’ best-of lists. The band’s future seems rather precarious, with frontmen Carl Barat and Pete Doherty playing out their contentious relationship through a number of songs on their latest eponymous recording (someone needed to carry on the tradition of Oasis’ Gallagher brothers) and certain members drugging up and dropping out. See them while they’re still so good and so not dead. 318 1st Ave. N., Minneapolis; 612-338-8100; www.finelinemusic.com

Any posthumous work is inevitably bittersweet. Smith’s struggles with drugs and depression were well known, and he always projected a breakable quality—onstage he often came off more as simply weary than rock star. It’s that very fragility that made his songs so personal and lovely. From a Basement on a Hill brings together three years’ worth of songs; Smith was working on it at the time of his death. Catch a last glimpse into a man with such a gift, who sadly was too tired of living. Available October 19

Remember Uncle Tupelo? After their breakup in 1994, fans tended to fall into two camps: Son Volt freaks and Wilco worshipers. Son Volt was for people who liked the twang of Uncle Tupelo and Wilco was for the dirtbag in all of us that could appreciate a strong drink and a loud guitar. Let’s face it, drunken dirtbags always win in the end. Touring in support of their new album, A Ghost Is Born, Wilco is that rare outfit whose stage banter is better than most other bands’ actual songs. Maybe it’s the lack of flash combined with his self-deprecating style that has kept singer/songwriter Jeff Tweedy shamefully overlooked as a commercial success, when we think he possesses one of pop music’s sharpest ears. The 2002 documentary I Am Trying to Break Your Heart chronicled the making of their fourth album, Yankee Hotel Fox Trot. Complete with vomiting and band member firings, it was an unflinching look at a band led by music’s most awkward and soulful troubadour. Much of A Ghost Is Born was written while Tweedy was battling depression, and also struggling with a dependency on the pain killers he was popping for his migraines. Lucky for us he can still rock, even with a headache (and some time in rehab). 910 Hennepin Ave., Minneapolis; 612-339-7007; www.hennepintheatredistrict.com

William Nicholson’s play—a Tony nominee this year—chronicles the slow, excruciating unraveling of a thirty- three-year-old marriage, and the ways both spouses manipulate their only son in their retreat from each other. If nothing else, this production should make at least some of us feel we’ve got it pretty good. But seriously, when a topic is this glum, the true art comes through in dialogue and performances. Nicholson’s got an uncanny grasp of the emotional language developed by two partners over several decades. And with local luminaries Barbara Kingsley and Stephen D’Ambrose onstage, you’re bound to be in good hands. 651-291-7005; www.parksquaretheatre.org

Northrop brings a pair of powerhouse imports to its stage this month. Lyon Opera Ballet has an adventurous repertory grounded in classical roots. This time out, ballets from European choreographers William Forsythe, Russell Maliphant, and Jiri Kylian are on the bill. Two weeks later, the bold and brassy Bolshoi takes the stage with its contemporary staging of Romeo and Juliet, which premiered in Moscow last year and was quickly counted among the venerable company’s most daring and imaginative productions. 612-624-2345; www.northrop.umn.edu

Emily Johnson has been described as “postmodern dance’s hottest new talent.” Drawing on enormous reserves of energy, precision, and creativity, the compact, pixyish Johnson can now be called a force of nature. Her newest piece, Heat and Life, centers on the emotional and atmospheric impacts of global warming. While she moves and bends, like a post-ozone sunrise, the weather onstage changes, thunder roars (the soundscape is composed by JG Everest), and emergency workers come and go. Commissioned by Walker Art Center, Johnson’s dance is co-presented with No Name Exhibitions. 2nd St. S.E. & 5th Ave. S.E., Minneapolis; 612-623-9176; www.soapfactory.org

Theater buffs will remember the staged reading of Bel Canto at Penumbra Theatre a few years back—and they might also recall that American Theater magazine named Jones as one of its artists to watch in the twenty-first century. As tender coming-of-age stories go (are there any other kind?), this one stands out in its orchestrated clash between the raw reality of city life and the world of operatic music. Set in Massachusetts in 1978, sixteen-year-old Benjamin Turner wears his heart on his sleeve while trying to deal with the impact of wishes coming true in all their terror and beauty. His tale is woven together with music from contralto diva Marian Anderson and Jimi Hendrix. 3501 Chicago Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-825-0459; www.puc-mn.org/theatre

This was Sarah Kane’s final play prior to her suicide in 1999 at the age of twenty-eight, and the title refers to the apocryphal time at which most suicides take place. Kane rose to prominence in London as a kind of theatrical counterpart to that city’s “YBA” art scene: Her first work, Blasted, received an eponymous treatment when one critic described it as “a disgusting feast of filth.” 4.48 Psychosis, no less controversial, has been characterized as a multilayered description of what it’s like to be pulled toward ceasing to be. The Royal Court Theater, Britain’s leading national company, brings its acclaimed production to the Guthrie Lab for its U.S. premiere. A first-date play? Probably not. Maybe a last. 700 N. 1st St., Minneapolis; 612-377-2224; www.guthrietheater.org