Finger waggle

No need to get pushy, sweets. Erol Alkan, Ambrosia and the Bearnsteins, Mad Professor, DJ Vadim, and more will let you through

Ambrosia Salad is bloated.

SUPER EGO What? WHAT?!? This is still happening? Oh Miss Dang, you did not just try to pull off that move where you put your clawy hag-hand on the small of my back and push me aside so you and your train of screaming amigas can press up on the DJ. I don't care what kind of 2-for-1 ladies night you think this is, but your gimme-gimme is NOT the reason I paid zero dollars to sneak into this club. It is crowded in here and don't even attempt that Most High Holy Discount-Salon-Streaked Jennifer Anniston Circa 2003 Princess of the VIP shit on me. You reek of Shalimar farts and Pink sweats, ugh.

Seriously, though, some people are getting pushy in the club lately. And, believe me, I'm not going to the wrong parties. In case anyone thinks I'm turning misogynist, I've been clotheslined and sidelined in the past three weeks by stomping drag kings, pubic-bearded rockists, and asexual dubstep fans. Look, the only reasons you should be tapping me on the shoulder are to a) hand me the non-well drink you bought me or b) test the structural integrity of my aerodynamically enhanced shoulder pads. It should not be so that you can use me like a sliding door. Duck under or sneak around, people. We're all in this to make a vibe together. Can we get a little politesse? Merci.



Good ol' electro. It's still going gonzo with those big time breakdowns and hair-metal stagedives, but slowly — slowly — it's progressing into something more cerebral and, well, less 00. London vet Alkan pours on the buzzsawing Waters of Nazareth like no other, but he's tweaking into the future with wide-ranging flair.

Wed/14, 10 p.m., $15. Vessel, 85 Campton Place, SF.



A number of dynamic local classic disco and house addicts — Sergio, Conor, Andre Lucero — have teamed up for this hyper new weekly gig, hopefully roughing up gleaming cocktail palace Sloane enough to make it comfortably gritty. They promise to "shoot lasers through speakers." That oughta do it.

Wed/14, 10 p.m., free. Sloane, 1525 Mission, SF.



"I could tell you what we're gonna do, baby, but isn't it always better to be surprised?" acid-tongued local dragger Ambrosia Salad rasped into my ear about her "Fat Fame Monster Tour" coming to Art Attack, Supperclub's eye-popping monthly video-projection-meets-performance night. She'll be "faux-show air-banding" with her furry backup brood, the Bearnsteins, to arena-dazzling hits. ("The knobs turn on the fake guitars and everything!" she squealed.) Er, "Fame Monster," though? "No Lady Gaga!" Ms. Salad promises. "Just me being fat!" Faux show.

Thur/15, 10 p.m., $5. Supperclub, 657 Harrison, SF.



The producers of Montreal's sprawling, techno-intelligent annual Mutek festival are taking their tubes and wires on the road, bringing the heady, yet freakable, sounds of digital creators Afukan, Stephen Beaupré, and Sutekh to the absolutely bonkers visionary Gray Area space. Hear the future in a parallel universe. One called Canada. (Cubed Quebec?)

Fri/16, 10 p.m., $20. Gray Area, 55 Taylor, SF.


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