September 4-10, 2003

musicpicks

The Motherfucking Clash

Rock/pop

Carolyn Chernoff thinks she's in a band. It's apparent not just in her liberal use of plurals ("We're a garage band!") -- she also shouts, struts and strums like a seasoned frontperson flanked by like-minded backing musicians. But Chernoff is the band. The Motherfucking Clash is just her acoustic guitar, which she brandishes like a heavy metal axe, and her loud, loud mouth. On her new CD, a four-song home-burned affair recorded live in Iceland last month, her smoky, scratched voice regales an unprepared crowd with harshly beautiful punk-folk songs and political rants about the military-industrial complex. "I'm sorry. I can't do this in Icelandic because this band is as much about talking as we are about rocking," she yells as if in a crowded arena. She is not lying. On its own, the music isn't much to behold -- the sparse sound and abhorrence for catchiness will rub many people the wrong way -- but as a total package, The Motherfucking Clash has charisma, ambition and balls.

Thu., Sept. 4, 9:30 p.m., $7, with Dear Nora and The Snow Fairies, Doc Watsonís, 216 S. 11th St., 215-922-3247.

—Patrick Rapa

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