The Hangover: Nov. 10-12

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Looking like a peroxide cult leader: Austra at the Great American on Saturday.
GUARDIAN PHOTO BY EMILY SAVAGE

**The sunny, indie rock jams of Ridgewood, NJ’s Real Estate cured my rainy day blues on Friday night at Slim’s. San Francisco’s unshaven, flannel-clad urban lumberjacks showed up en masse to seek shelter from the rain and soak up some seriously good vibes. The five-piece kicked off with “Suburban Beverage” from its 2009 self-titled debut. Inviting us to mellow out, leader Martin Courtney repeated the song’s only words, “Budweiser, Sprite, do you feel alright?” Fans responded with blissful head-nodding. See full story here. (Frances Capell)

**I shall refrain from naming this unnamed SF bar for reasons that will soon become clear. On Friday night I took a group of females out for a night of drinking, dancing, and old school friendly conversations. At the bar where we eventually landed, the DJs were spinning what amounted to Bar Mitzvah music. No, not Hebraic, religious, Cantorial chants, I'm talking about the Celebrate Good Times after-party repeated hits, the ones we've all just heard too many times, at the aforementioned life changing parties, and in commercials for cheap burgers or pull-up diapers, at the dentist's office (my dentist keeps the mood perky). The meandering blob of drinkers seemed confused -- but willing, determined -- to dance to this godforsaken sound. I, however, could not muster enough enthusiasm. (old-stick-in-the-mud, Emily Savage)

**It wouldn't (quite) be fair to fault the party for the muscle-bound tank top clones posing sullenly about the edges of the dancefloor and truth be told, the beats coming from Stallion Saturdays at Rebel more than made up for all the unyielding musculature in the club. Seattle's DJ Nark had appeared for the evening, sporting fetching neckwear and spinning even more fetching, not-corny-at-all jams from disco greats to more current, creepy-good modern bangers. By the end of the night the place was packed, just packed with hairless wonders, swaying slightly to the tune of their sugar-free Red Bull-vodkas. (Caitlin Donohue)

**The cooperative music project known as BOBBY may never be conventionally popular. Founded by Tom Greenberg as a multimedia project at Vermont’s Bennington College, BOBBY’s avante-garde psych-folk tunes are favored by the nerdiest of music geeks. That said, my fondness for BOBBY’s strange, multi-layered debut album was enough to send me across town in dismal weather to catch its brief opening set at Bottom of the Hill on Saturday night. It was an uncharacteristically mature crowd for the venue, peppered with the occasional young art hippie. Four members of the sometimes septet were present, all of whom sported bizarre blonde wigs. The band opened with the cinematic “We Saw,” and continued on to “Sore Spores,” the catchy standout track from its debut. Weird samples and synths were paired with guitar, drums, and crazy vocal harmonies. BOBBY finished with an untitled, totally epic track and left the stage long before I was ready to say goodbye. (Frances Capell) 

**Guitarists strummed intricately, singers rang out piercingly in throaty voices, everyone clapped complicated rhythms, and brightly costumed dancers stomped, shouted, and whirled until they could no more at San Francisco Theatre Flamenco's thrilling "45 Años de Arte Flamenco" celebration at the Marines Memorial Theater on Saturday. Although guest dancer Manuel Gutierrez couldn't be there due to visa issues (this is happening to a lot of performers lately!), the fantastic Juan Siddi took over with jaw-dropping, toreador-jacketed moves. Company artistic director Carola Zertuche fascinated with her regal bearing and sprightly footwork, while a chromatic bulerías dance by Cristina Hall (accompanied in the beginning by Alex Conde playing the strings of his piano) was eerily contemporary and deeply engaging. Singers Kina Mendez and Jose Cortes mesmerized with entwined cries and intimations of extreme longing. Olé! (Marke B.)

**Toward the end of a tight, danceable set at the Great American Music Hall on Saturday night – a performance that was, by the way, dedicated to Occupy Oakland – Austra's glorious vocalist Katie Stelmanis told the crowd this show was the best of the tour. My mind went black and the thought flashed: I bet she says that to all the cities. I felt a pang of jealousy. Though the operatic electro-new wave act is based in Canada, I wanted her – and the rest of the band – to love San Francisco most of all, to blow us sugary, synth-soaked kisses for eternity. The night started with such a snag, a quartet of sorrowful hipsters pretending to see a friend “Oh Sarah! I think she's up there all alone” and bully their way into a hot and packedthistight crowd, but when crystal-throated Stelmanis fluttered out in a flowy cape-dress, looking like a peroxide cult leader, flanked on either side by two back-up singers in gold-lined black tunics, it was hard to stay pissy long. Song three: the emblematic stunner “Lose It.” (Emily Savage) 

**The stage lights go dark and the rainbow of panels on the front start to glow as Holy Ghost! takes the stage at Slim's, launching into "Static on the Wire," from its 2010 EP of the same name. Although Holy Ghost! is just two guys, Nick Millhiser and Alex Frankel, they’ve enlisted a number of other musicians (including the drummer who played earlier with Jessica 6) to bolster the live show, just as James Murphy did for the live LCD Soundsystem performances. Frankel, sporting the second leather jacket of the night, is on vocal duties, while Millhiser is stationed on guitar behind a pair of floor toms. The bands takes moves into familiar territory with “It’s Not Over,” not just because it’s one of their more recognizable songs, but because it has what I can only assume to be a deliberate lyrical reference to New Order’s “Bizarre Love Triangle.” (Ryan Prendiville)