Saxophonist Steve Wilson has graced countless stages and even more record dates; much easier to enumerate would be the marquees and album covers that have borne his name.

Weasel Walter's hyperaggressive jazz-noise-metal drumming has lain waste to several metropolises over the past 20 years — Chicago throughout the '90s and the Bay Area more recently.

The name of this Japanese/Norwegian quintet translates as "selection of dead trees," and it's hard to imagine an image that could be more evocative of the stark, spare beauty of their music.

The strength of Romero's zombie films, as opposed to those of his legions of gore-hound followers, has been that the horror takes a back seat to some form of social commentary, no matter how broad.

Immigrants in America often seem trapped in a sort of purgatory. Puerto Rican-born, Philly-based artist Roxana Pérez-Méndez explores that in-between existence in work that itself teeters between opposing states.

The duo's CD I Don't Hear Nothin' but the Blues is a single 47-minute blast of relentless improvisation.

Ridley Scott makes his case with a nearly unrecognizable Robin Hood.

Museums are the places where a culture's detritus goes to find its final resting place and valuation, but what happens when the museums crumble away? The meta-archivists at Slought are tackling that question with "Commercial America."

Bobby Zankel's avant-big band, Warriors of the Wonderful Sound, have been wrestling their way through the dense foliage of the saxophonist's compositions for almost a decade now, overspilling the tiny stage at Tritone once a month.

German pianist/vibraphonist Karl Berger performed alongside many of the greats in improvised music, including Don Cherry, whose music he revisits with an all-star septet Sunday at I-House.