By Ian S. Port

START LOOKING INTO Richard Branson's life and you'll get really tired of reading about him blathering on about how much he likes a challenge. Nothing wrong with those, but they tend to be less challenging with a billion dollars in your back pocket. And if you're entitled to endlessly spew about your own greatness when you can point to international success in a seemingly endless series of enterprises, why doesn't the name Dame Darcy ring more bells? She doesn't own 200 companies around the world, and she hasn't tried to circumnavigate it in either a hot air balloon or an overpriced sailboat. But like Sir Richard, the multitalented indie maiden can brag that she started early, making music at nine years old. And as with Branson, once you start paying attention, Darcy's work seems to turn up everywhere – notably, at this year's Mission Creek Music and Arts Festival, where she'll perform with one of her many projects, the rock foursome Death by Doll.

Let's ease this somewhat cumbersome comparison by highlighting an important difference you may have already picked up: Richard Branson is fabulously rich. Dame Darcy is not. Which makes their similarities – I'm going to pound this home; get used to it – all the more striking. Dame Darcy is the female Richard Branson of the indie world, who isn't wealthy or phony or the victim of a vertically eager hairstyle (both of them, however, have very distinctive looks: Branson with the poncey adventurer-boat boy thing, and Darcy with a collection of exquisite dresses).

Her empire was founded not by exploiting an overhyped monkey band (Branson signed the Sex Pistols), but by writing and illustrating a string of long-running indie comic books, including the much adored Meat Cake series. Picked up by Fantagraphics, the country's biggest independent comic publisher, Meat Cake won an international collection of dedicated fans with its dark, Victorian aesthetic and weird (it says so on the cover) humor. It also gathered praise from such pillars of the mainstream as the Washington Post. In contrast, the founder of the Virgin empire gets praise from himself.

A newer project, Gasoline, began as a graphic novel. Darcy wants to make it into a movie, with Death by Doll (who have a CD of the same title out soon on Emperor Penguin Recordings) creating the soundtrack. Her latest outfit exudes the gothy vibe and macabre themes she's known for (a noted difference from that other guy) but builds a new structure on her sparse bluegrass-folk foundation. She's also got a batch of skittery, absurdly morbid country tunes out on the Bop Tart label titled Dame Darcy's Greatest Hits, featuring her unadorned voice in all its grainy, lo-fi glory.

Despite her nearly lifelong musical pursuits, Darcy – like Branson – always needs more occupational references in order to be fully understood. The "repertoire" on her Web site is way longer than the list of independent records carried by Virgin Megastore: miles of publication credits, numerous record releases (and performances with her "sea shanty/folk rock" bands Aye Aye Captain and Cabin Fever), award-winning animation work, indie film acting, and the typically titled "EZ Bake Coven Cabaret." Even without her modeling and clothing-design experience, that's still more creative output than Richie Rich could whip up if he spent a year in a cold, solitary space pod with only a new laptop and a thousand lime-flavored ramen packets. Speaking of which, how's that for a challenge, old boy?

Death by Doll play with Glass Candy and Veronica Lipgloss and the Evil Eyes June 9, 9:30 p.m., Hemlock Tavern, 1131 Polk, S.F. $7. (415) 923-0923.

Pick the hits

Nick Castro The man earned the fortuitous "acid folk" label with the rotary swirl on his guitar and roomy tape-echo on his vocals. His songs sometimes resemble typical singer-songwriter fare (waxing poetic over morose acoustic strumming – and is that a fucking cello?), but once the psych juice kicks in, you might think he's Syd Barrett. Sun/5, Cafe du Nord.

Menomena Portland, Ore., soundsmiths Menomena follow this recipe: bake up a solid groove, ice it with brown bass rumble and keyboards of twilight, and slur out the whole thing into a flowy phantasm for a few unsane minutes of transcendence. They've also toured with jaw-droppers Gang of Four and possess a joyously silly Web site (www.menomena.com). Salt to taste. June 10, Cafe du Nord.

Yellow Swans The mischievous Bay Area duo improvise free-form noise collages – a drum machine's big beats propel the tape magic and feedback into epochal motion – and obliterate song, genre, and evil with the golden innocence of just wanting to crank those ole doors of perception open a little wider. June 10, Balazo Gallery.

ISP