San Francisco's Sic Alps don't so much sprint as stagger efficiently through 22 sludgy, desultory lo-fi jams in about 45 minutes on their Drag City debut, Napa Asylum, which comes off like an early Guided by Voices EP if you replaced Bob Pollard's Cheap Trick fetish with a penchant for '60s psychedelic folk. You never know what's gonna burble up through the blanket of fuzz and reverb — noisy skronk, wispy jangle, hard-driving blues, hummable pop, tender ballads — but sit with it a minute and something's sure to give you a tingle.

There have been a lot of fuzzy, lo-fi bands in the past few years, most of them sort of running together and getting lost in the feedback. That's the interesting thing about the Dum Dum Girls. In a genre that's been arguably overdone, if not totally saturated, the Dum Dum Girls find a way to stand out. Last year's I Will Be made its mark as not only one of the best of its kind, but one of the best, period.

Katy Goodman's new femme-pop incarnation pays tribute to Grandma's favorite girl groups by keeping the arrangements retro, the execution fresh and the sentiments timeless. La Sera's more than a way for the Vivian Girls singer-bassist to stay sharp during downtime, though sharp's hardly the word to describe the cooing "I Promise You" or the sighing "You're Going to Cry," from La Sera. Forget the rough gems of her other band. This is Goodman's hymnal to la-la-love and heartache.

That recent Grammy win should tell you: The Carolina Chocolate Drops' enthusiasm for Southern traditional African-American music is irresistible. At this year's Folk Alliance, despite playing the largest available halls, they still had people queued up outside, hoping a spot would open up. That conference is the Drops' natural home, where last year they commenced jamming with the Luminiscent Orchestrii and went on to do an EP of their combined musical inspirations. Grammy or no, members still eased into jam sessions. Dom Flemons in particular seemed to be everywhere at all hours, playing and singing with manic glee.

Listening to Parallel Lives (Astralwerks), the new EP from this well-mannered Parisian trio, you might find it hard to get past how terribly nice it all is. (You know "nice" can be an insult, right?) All delicately plucked acoustic guitars and immaculate choral-style harmonies, with the occasional cello — like mid-period Beach Boys in mannered monochrome, or Elliott Smith or Nick Drake with all the poetry and pathos surgically removed — there might not have been any pop music this mincingly dainty since the '60s heyday of The Left Banke. Even so — chalk it up to the group's classical chops, particularly evident in their highly refined vocal arrangements — you've got to admit it all sounds awfully nice.

Fri., Feb. 25, 9 p.m., $10, with Jác and When I Was 12, Johnny Brenda's, 1201 N. Frankford Ave., 877-435-9849, johnnybrendas.com.

"It's my homecoming. If half the people I knew in high school show up, we'll fill the place," chuckles Ray Seifert, who put in two years at Springfield MontCo and two at Penn Charter. Drawing a blank? Maybe you know his professional moniker, Ray Benson — founder of Asleep at the Wheel, the band that provides the living link to western swing's biggest name, Bob Wills. This Wednesday's show at the Tin Angel will be strictly Benson, showing off his fingerpicking and singing "from Nat King Cole to Hank."

Wed., March 2, 8 p.m., $15, Tin Angel, 20 S. Second St., 215-928-0978, tinangel.com.

Mahler said, "A symphony must be like the world." His seventh work in that format, then, is a dark and sprawling world, one of adventure, daring and, ultimately, resolution. It is the sole work on this program. It takes a mighty orchestra to realize such a vision, and the storied LSO fits the bill. The principal conductor there is Valery Gergiev, one of the most vibrant and dramatic baton-twirlers on the scene today. Should be quite a show.

Tue., Feb. 22, 8 p.m., $39-$113, Kimmel Center, 300 S. Broad St., 215-893-1999, kimmelcenter.org.

Sudden mood swings are a fine test of a band's mettle, and a listener's fortitude. Will we follow them from zig to zag, or get lost in some noodly math problem? Philly band Busses is worth sticking with. One minute there's a pleading, artful Robert Plant kinda thing, then there's some Black Keys blues or glorious, reverberating psych. Ambitious, gripping stuff.

Sat., Feb. 19, 9 p.m., $10, with Royal Shoals and Upholstery, Johnny Brenda's, 1201 N. Frankford Ave., 877-435-9849, johnnybrendas.com.

The former's slick and rocking. The latter's dirty and dancing. Free Energy and Sweatheart (pictured) both like to move the people with simple hooks and tainted optimism, but they take crazy different routes to get there. This is what else you sound like, Philadelphia.

Fri., Feb. 18, 8 p.m., $10, all ages, with The Postelles, First Unitarian Church, 2125 Chestnut St., 877-435-9849, r5productions.com.

For all the yearbook-style superlatives that might be handed out to the burgeoning class of vintage soul resurgents — best songwriting for Mayer Hawthorne, most consummate retro-styled showmanship for Sharon Jones and her Dap-Kings, rawest energy to Eli "Paperboy" Reed — Kings Go Forth deserve particular attention for their focus on rhythm and groove. The interracial, intergenerational Milwaukee tensome demonstrated a penchant for punchy poly-rhythms and turn-of-the-'70s funk on last year's debut, The Outsiders Are Back (Luaka Bop), with detours along the way into disco, reggae and '60s-style James Brown break beats. They're no slouches in the vocal department, either, with the commanding tenor and searing falsetto of the fiftysomething Black Wolf leading a pack of three lead-sharing singers capable of some deliriously sweet blending.

Fri., Feb. 18, 9 p.m., $12, with Dr. Ketchup, Johnny Brenda's, 1201 N. Frankford Ave., 877-435-9849, johnnybrendas.com.

The standard rock 'n' roll performance — a few guys with guitars, singing and swaying on stage — can get old. Hell, even when the Flaming Lips spruce it up with a few giant hamster balls and a naked Wayne Coyne, it's still old. Praise be to The Mural and the Mint, the theatrically poppy, somewhat freaky chamber band from Philadelphia that's teaming up with Nichole Canuso Dance Co., another local success story, to shake up that dusty presentation method. They'll collaborate for a live performance inspired by the band's new album, As the Eyes of the Seahorse. The dancers provide just the right balance of awkward, contemporary grooving and show-stopping, hand-clapping musical numbers, as the band plays its flamboyant songs in the background. Now that's a whole lot better than Wayne Coyne's balls.

Fri.-Sat., Feb. 18-19, 7:30 and 9:30 p.m., $12-$15, Maas Building, 1325 N. Randolph St., nicholecanusodance.org.

Yann Tiersen's music is like drowning. First it engulfs you with lavish piano compositions and haunting strings, jostling you until all surroundings become blurred. Then your head fills with dizzying refrains that lurch and spiral, switching from romantic and wispy to dense and terrifying. The French composer brings in classical training and blends it seamlessly with jangly rock chords. The result is a rebellious amalgamation of accordion, violin, synthesizer and electric guitar working simultaneously to bewilder and beguile the listener. When the songs eventually come to an end there's a rush of blood to the head, then the feeling of weightlessness. Pack a life jacket for this one.

Thu., Feb. 17, 8 p.m., $20, with Shannon Wright, First Unitarian Church, 2125 Chestnut St., 215-563-3980, r5productions.com.

Baltimore comes to West Philly for a nicely balanced pairing of experimental art-rock experiences. Ponytail/Ecstatic Sunshine guitarist Dustin Wong's first solo outing, Infinite Love (Thrill Jockey), features two divergent renditions of the titular 40-minute opus — named for a meditation mantra — a mutating, swirling, pointillist tone sculpture performed with an array loop, delay and other effects pedal. Watching him render it (or something similar) live should be a real treat. Wong's labelmates Thank You, who recently dropped the brightly skronky Golden Worry, pursue a more directly visceral course, livening up their noise-punk excursions with perky organs, fiercely energetic drumming, and the occasional lusty chanting. But both share a similar jones for transcendent joy — and where better to pursue that than Younglove's on Valentine's eve?

Sun., Feb. 13, 7 p.m., $5, with Ed Schrader and Combine, Younglove's, 5011 Baltimore Ave., 215-472-4727, weareyoungloves.com.

The words "live improvised electronic" should trigger your most skeptical instincts. In fact, just one-and-a-half sentences into this write-up, you've probably decided whether The Synth Sircus is worth your time. But this collective does, in fact, know what they're doing. Drawing from some local notable heady rock acts — including Music for Headphones and Aunt Dracula, and helmed by John Briley (Agent Moosehead) and Andy "of the Future" Schwartz (Chrome Tongues and Step Brothers, ex-SEA Trio) — the Sircus mixes fat beats and rich drones with visual projections and the occasional sonic meltdown. Loosen up a little and let them bend your mind.

Sat., Feb. 12, 1 p.m., $7, all ages, with The Skin Cell and W.C. Lindsay, Balcony at the Trocadero, 1003 Arch St., 215-922-6888, thetroc.com.

"Don't let the city streets keep you inside all year." That's good advice, whether you're talking about navigating icy sidewalks in February or becoming a shut-in because your neighborhood gets you down. Bathed in Jim James-y rustic overtones on their song "Kensington," Oldermost dare you to embrace the place you live, to get outside and understand it, to respect it. The band's excellent self-titled EP, released last fall, is equally observational and inspirational, 15 melodic minutes to keep you warm on the walk to the show.

Sat., Feb. 12, 8:30 p.m., $7, all ages, with The Cinnamon Band and Lost in Company, Cedar Street Studios, 3211 Cedar St., cedarstreetpresents.com.

No writer has influenced more composers than Shakespeare, and no Shakespeare has inspired more music than Romeo and Juliet. The most-performed operatic version (of at least 24) is from 19th-century French composer Charles-Francois Gounod, and it's a beaut. OCP cannot resist the casting of a locally sourced couple in the lead roles, Stephen Costello and Ailyn Pérez, who met as students at the Academy of Vocal Arts. They had a brief trial run as an OCP couple in Puccini's comedy Gianni Schicchi in 2009, and they were — no better way to put it — adorable. They are also really, really fine singers.

Feb. 11-20, $15-$60, Academy of Music, 1420 Locust St., 215-893-1018, operaphila.org.

These lovable San Fran oddballs have been churning out puzzling, playfully chaotic experimental art-pop-rock for 15 years, but somehow they manage to seem as fresh as bands half that young, always tinkering with their precociously polymorphous approach and yielding delightful new twists. Deerhoof vs. Evil (Polyvinyl), one of their most enjoyable and engaging records yet, is a comparatively mellow affair, but they still crunch and coo and shimmer and sputter and generally kick butt like the laser-powered, cotton-candy superheroes they've always been.

Fri., Feb. 11, 9 p.m., $15-$23, with Ben Butler and Mousepad and Prowler, TLA, 334 South St., 215-922-1011, livenation.com.

Befitting a man who calls his band a "museum," the title of David Wax and associates' third album, Everything Is Saved, suggests our modern tendency to leave no impulse undocumented, no sentiment unarchived. But their music evokes an earlier age when memory was cultural rather than digital, and its products all the more precious. Not unlike a scrappier, more acoustic Los Lobos, the Boston outfit — theoretically a duo (Wax on various Mexican guitars; Suz Slezak on fiddles and quijada, or donkey jawbone) — commingle the musical heritages of Mexico and the U.S. (back-porch folk; dusty country) for a beguiling cross-cultural hybrid all their own.

Fri., Feb. 11, 10:30 p.m., $10, Tin Angel, 20 S. Second St., 215-928-0770, tinangel.com.

The word springing to mind is "toothy." Possibly because the punky, Superchunk-y blend dished out by new Philly rock foursome Cold Fronts is so biting. Or it might be because frontman Craig Almquist shattered one of his incisors during a recent show at their home base, West Philly's Rathaus. Whichever it is, I suggest you take in some of their spastic guitar rock at Kung Fu Necktie tonight, and take bets on how much dental work Almquist will need when they're done.

Thu., Feb. 10, 8 p.m., $5, with El Fuego, The MLMs and The Nonstop Mint, Kung Fu Necktie, 1250 N. Front St., 215-291-4919, kungfunecktie.com.

This roving trio of Tel Aviv troublemakers dishes out some agreeably sloppy, spirited grunge-punk on its albums, like the just-released, Steve Albini-produced Not Yet (Drag City). But they've really made a name for themselves with their live shows, wreaking a kind of havoc it can be difficult to make sense of from mere hearsay. Their increasingly notorious performances, which rarely take place on an actual stage, typically involve near-constant crowd-surfing (of the whole band, including the drum set), with burly, Zappa-haired ringleader Ami Shalev climbing on everything in sight, as well as plenty of spewing fluids (bodily and otherwise), upturned trash cans, fire, nudity and general abuse. As the title of one of their new songs has it: "Fun Fun Fun."

Mon., Feb. 7, 8 p.m., $10, with Pujol, Federation X and Da! Comrade, The Ox, 1652 N. Second St., myspace.com/theoxphiladelphia.