On their new CD, Future Women, Chicago’s the M’s make a fuzzy, glamtastic racket that recalls T. Rex before Marc Boland, fueled by coke, crashed and burned. They toss just about everything into the music: handclaps, humming guitars, and a singer who sounds like he’s always up for a good shag. You might have heard them on The OC last week.
Thu., March 23, 9 p.m.
This article appears in Mar 22-28, 2006.