THE BRONZED CHORUS We’ve all seen enough duos to know the common narrative — holy shit, can you believe two people are making that much sound?, etc. But bands like The Bronzed Chorus, from Greensboro, explodes that conceit a bit. This is to say that many of those duos we’ve been calling “full-sounding” for so many years now come off as a little bit lacking, a little bit thin, trebly and incomplete, next to The Bronzed Chorus’ thickness and drive. These guys’ tonal range is closer to that of Providence band The Body — another guitar-and-drums two-piece that never leaves the house without a healthy low end. In The Bronzed Chorus, that low end tends to come from multi-tasking drummer Hunter Allen — he often plays a synth with one hand. Guitarist Adam Joyce plays busily, though tastefully, often tackling melodic and rhythmic lines on his beat-up black Les Paul. The result? Maserati, as played by two people. With The Bear Romantic, The Winter Sounds, and I Was Totally Destroying It. $5. Aug. 31, 9 p.m. Snug Harbor, 1228 Gordon St. 704-333-9799.

BOMBADIL Bombadil’s label — Ramseur Records — picked up the Durham band after seeing it open for Ramseur’s most famous act, The Avett Brothers. That’s appropriate, since Bombadil also uses acoustic folk and Americana styles as springboards into some intriguingly nontraditional pop. Bombadil also owes a bit to indie songsters Devotchka, with the band’s tasteful chamber-pop elements, and even ’70s prog-sters, with its intricately composed though bombastic flourishes. That performance with The Avetts was six years ago, and since then, the band has seen challenges aplenty — several members have departed (from the band as well as from the state) and bassist Daniel Michalak suffered nerve damage to his hands. Shows such as this one easily could have not happened, and we suspect Bombadil knows this. So ... YOLO, right? I can’t believe I just typed that. (We can’t either. — Ed.) $7. Aug. 31, 8 p.m. The Evening Muse, 3227 N. Davidson St. 704-376-3737.

WOODY PINES Joyously retro in both sound and presentation, the Asheville combo Woody Pines rips into old-timey country blues, ragtime, jazz and New Orleans street-corner music with abandon. This is urban hillbilly music that also can take you into the sticks with a jug of homemade hooch, or to front-porch hoedowns, or to tent revivals. The band’s varied combinations of acoustic instruments — guitars, stand-up bass, fiddles, harmonica, sax and cornet — are handled by fully versed musicians. Don’t forget your dancin’ shoes. $8. Aug. 30, 9 p.m. Double Door Inn, 1218 Charlottetowne Ave. 704-376-1446.

BROWNBIRD RUDY RELIC There’s something to be said for a consciously anachronistic stage persona — especially if the transformation is total. New York City’s Brownbird Rudy Relic, with his slick pompadour and rambunctious proto-rock stomp, exists in a sort of hillbilly/country blues tradition — as if, in some alternate universe, rock 'n’ roll had never happened and its basic elements lived on anyway in a rough, raw state. The Brownbird, who identifies as Chicano, flavors his blues swing with elements of Mexican balladry. Accordingly, he spends very little time in tried-and-tedious 12-bar territory — avoiding the familiar folk-revival Lightnin’ Hopkins and Robert Johnson-worship in favor of something that lives, breathes and evolves. So, come on out and meet a time-traveler. With Los Bastardos Magnificos, One Fine Damn Band and Bill Stroupe, Geoffreaux. $5-$9. Aug. 29, 9 p.m. The Milestone, 3400 Tuckaseegee Road. 704-398-0472.

PUFFY AREOLAS If you haven’t had a good earwax-clearing lately, these noisemakers from the Cleveland and Chicago areas should do nicely. Built from elements of early Motor City rock, coruscating psych and hardcore aggro-angst, the band’s In the Army 1981 (a 2010 release, actually) captivates and alienates in equal measure. If you funneled the Stooges through other forebears like proto-metalheads White Boy and the Average Rat Band or Italian punkers Tampax, threw in some early Dwarves and added a shit-ton of guitar noise, you’d be in the general sonic area code. It’s not for the faint of heart, but steers clear of annoying screamo or lame-ass metal angst tropes and instead rocks like mad. Of course, Googling “puffy areolas” will result in more questionable website hits than videos of the band, but both probably earn their NSFW designations. With locals Great Architect, Meat Group and DJ Stroupenassty. $5-$9. Aug. 28, 9 p.m. The Milestone, 3400 Tuckaseegee Road. 704-398-0472.

MY MORNING JACKET Undeniably rooted in the school of alt-country that worships Neil Young, MMJ has mushroomed over the years into an ensemble bent on randomly mining genres as the band members choose. The foundation is roots-rock, but anything is game — neo-psychedelia, shoegazing, rock, pop, country. The combo is fully self-defined and tailor-made if you dig bending genres into an expanse of sound where a floating tune can convulse into a reverb-laden, effects-loaded, noisy conclusion. The blokes play music as they please, and that eclecticism is no better displayed than with the sonic evolution that bookends “Old September Blues,” from their debut, to “Holdin’ on to Black Metal,” from the recent Circuital. With Band of Horses. $40-$60. Aug. 25, 7 p.m. Time Warner Cable Uptown Amphitheatre, 1000 N.C. Music Factory Blvd. 704-549-5555.

PALEFACE Willfully ramshackle alt-folk and acoustic punk savant Paleface has been poised on the verge of a big commercial breakthrough for more than 20 years. Signed to a major label in 1991, he refused to tamp down his outspokenness and wayward weirdness, appalling fans of tour-mates (and banal footnote) The Crash Test Dummies. Tours with the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Billy Bragg — along with another flirtation with the majors — followed, but it wasn’t until Paleface crossed paths with Concord’s Avett Brothers and Ramseur Records that the singer locked into his groove. Moving from New York City to North Carolina, Paleface has found the ideal collaborator in his wife, percussionist and singer Monica Samalot. Her earthy vocals mesh perfectly with the gruff troubadour’s, and her “inspired primitive,” Moe Tucker-style drumming propels the duo’s jaunty, zydeco-flavored folk-pop and rootsy shout-alongs that by turns recall Flaming Lips’ Wayne Coyne, M. Ward and John Lennon’s “Give Peace a Chance.” Paleface may be mellowed, but he’s still the disheveled street-corner preacher whose thoughts spill out rushed and unfiltered. It’s a big piece of Paleface’s charm that he seems compelled to cram all of his thoughts and emotions into every minute, as if the song he’s singing, indeed each verse, may be his last. With Jeremy Current. $10. Aug. 25, 8 p.m. Evening Muse, 3227 N. Davidson St. 704-376-3737.