Saturday, Dec. 13; Plush (21 and over, 9 p.m.): Joe Pernice gets compared regularly to pop Rachmaninov Brian Wilson, so often in fact, that the comparison itself has become almost meaningless. To be sure, Pernice has an uncommon gift for popcraft as high art, and his ability to express the full range of love through the written word is pure genius. But the more I listen to the Pernice Brothers' latest release, Yours, Mine and Ours (Ashmont), I'm reminded more of how I felt the first time I listened to The Smiths' ode to love and heartache, Strangeways Here We Come than I am of the first time I listened to Pet Sounds. Pernice's lyrics and delivery are more than slightly reminiscent of Morrissey's, and while echoes of Johnny Marr's incomparable hooks can be heard within the guitar figures throughout Yours, Mine and Ours, the singing and arrangements sound hauntingly like 20/20-era Beach Boys.
Frankly, there's not a bad song on the record, and the live experience promises to be even more stunning. Don't make the mistake of missing this show.
