GHOST TO FALCO
"It's about coming to grips with the idea that humans are fucking up terribly," says Eric Crespo, discussing the lyrical concerns of his eerie and oddly engaging brainchild, Ghost to Falco. Since he's based in perpetually soggy Portland, Ore., it's tempting to attribute Crespo's dour outlook to seasonal affective disorder, but Crespo incubated Ghost to Falco in Chapel Hill and conceived it in Asheville before bringing it to full flower in misty Portlandia. Over time, Ghost to Falco evolved from a swirling, beatless one-man show to a full band, playing haunting compositions that sit uneasily at the intersection of minimalism, threadbare folk and experimental prog rock. Described as After the Gold Rush-era Neil Young backed by British noise terrorists This Heat, Ghost to Falco features gentle guitar strumming, bursts of atonal noise and allusive talk-singing that seems to emerge from Crespo's subconscious. Imagine slabs of latter-day Scott Walker's musique concrète raining down on a ravaged Americana landscape. It's no accident Crespo's recent LP, Exotic Believers, opens with the cut "Black Hole," since he's perfected the cloudy and obsessed sound of roots rock collapsing into itself. With Great Architect. $5. Dec. 22, 10 p.m. Snug Harbor, 1228 Gordon St. 704-333-9799.

PAM TAYLOR BAND
Local blues singer, songwriter and guitarist Pam Taylor plows through straight-up blues, to be sure, but she also can turn a trick or two with groove-laden rock. Taylor channels Bonnie Raitt and Susan Tedeschi, and while not quite up to their evolved levels, she writes original tunes that won her the Loaf's Readers Pick for "Best Local Songwriter" this year. This is Taylor's CD release gig for her new recording, Hot Mess, which also features sinewy sax lines weaving in and out of the tracks. As a wise man once said, support your local guitar slingers. With Riyen Roots & the Family Tree Band. $8-$10. Dec. 21, 9 p.m. Double Door Inn, 1218 Charlottetowne Ave. 704-376-1446.

MARAH
In its 20 years, the Philadelphia band Marah has gone from scruffy, seat-of-their-pants emotionalism to overblown grandeur and back again. In the mid-aughts, these self-conscious Philly street poets accidentally became hip when "cooler" bands like Arcade Fire appropriated Marah's mix of classic rock bombast and Bruce Springsteen obsession. (Hell, the Boss even belted backing vocals on Marah's most overreaching LP, Float Away with the Friday Night Gods, in 2002.) Prior to that, Marah earned scorn for its E Street fixation. Hosannas from boomer scribes Stephen King and Nick Hornby reinforced Marah's tag as dreary dad-rock, but even at its sappiest, the band somehow managed to touch the soul. Witness "Freedom Park," in 2004, where chanted jump-rope rhymes transform boiler-plate "big city blues" lyrics into back-alley transcendence. Nowadays touring as an acoustic duo with sole remaining band-mate Christine Smith, founder Dave Bielanko strives to regain the rootsy ramshackle charm of Marah's earliest LPs. He doesn't quite hit that mark, but the duo gets props for shooting for the stars. $12-$15. Dec. 21, 10:30 p.m. Evening Muse, 3227 N. Davidson St. 704-376-3737.

THE BUSINESS
Class of '79 London rockers The Business are standard bearers for the British Oi movement. Oi, the second wave of Brit punk, mopped up resistance after the shock-troop assault of the Sex Pistols, Clash and Stranglers. Harder, louder and more working-class than it's artsier elder New Wave, the brattier little brother Oi relies on simple melodies wrapped in massed male choruses patterned on football chants. It's fist-pumpin', beer swillin' stuff that draws on the good-timey boot-stompers of '70s glam rockers Slade. The music's popularity proved a curse when British fascists hijacked the genre to lure young, testosterone-addled recruits, thereby tarring the entire scene - and key players like The Business - with a Neo-Nazi brush. Mutual loathing between Oi bands and fascists touched off race riots like The Business' 1981 Southall gig that left 110 injured and one olde English pub burned to the ground. More melodic, dynamic and resilient than its cohorts, The Business soldiered on, coming to the attention of American hardcore legends Rancid, which championed The Business' cause, introducing the Brit brethren to U.S. punk fans. Nowadays, The Business still keeps touch with its working-class, rollicking roots, bringing us Yanks a little class consciousness along with the good times. With The Beatdowns, Chalkies and Dirty South Revolutionaries. $10-$12. Dec. 18, 8:30 p.m. Tremont Music Hall, 400 W. Tremont Ave. 704-343-9494.

NNENNA FREELON
A word to the wise regarding six-time Grammy nominee Nnenna Freelon: She's just released a Christmas album, and this is a Christmas show. Whether this is a good or bad thing depends on how you feel about seasonal songs, unfancy jazz vocals and backing instrumentation that ranges from bongos to big band. But if you do like these things, then Freelon is the woman for you. An alto, she sings with impressive clarity, control and pleasure. And don't take the aforementioned unfanciness to mean that Freelon is unhip, or her phrasing unoriginal - quite the contrary. An artist who didn't even start her career until her late 30s, Freelon simply approaches her songs with a maturity that has always prevented her from over-selling herself. Her versions of yuletide classics sound fresh and joyful, lit from within and given a new sense of motion by her backing off, the brass especially. For jazz fans, this is a must-see. And for those unfamiliar with the genre, Freelon offers an ideal starting point. With John Brown Big Band. $29.50-$39.50. Dec. 15, 8 p.m. McGlohon Theater, 345 N. College St. 704-372-1000. www.blumenthalarts.org.

CRUSHED OUT
Comparisons to North Carolina legends Flat Duo Jets are obvious, but the Brooklyn-based duo Crushed Out holds its own with original compositions that run the gamut of surf, honky-tonk, country blues, rockabilly and '50s rock 'n' roll. Crushed Out (formerly called Boom Chick) consists of Frank Hoier on guitar and vocals and Moselle Spiller on drums. They showcase their love of American music with roaring, hot-rod instrumentals that rear-end slower numbers, and then go around the bend and blast out of the rickety amplifiers once again. It's all clearly birthed in a garage somewhere in the American ethos, where the good time is courtesy of a couple of cats properly schooled in the game. $7. Dec. 15, 10 p.m. Evening Muse, 3227 N. Davidson St. 704-376-3737.

TREY SONGZ
With a keening, creamy tenor equally adept at fronting beats or an R&B band, Trey Songz finally shakes off those nagging R. Kelly comparisons. To be fair, early in his career, young hip-hop soul crooner Songz fell fully under the spell of New Jack Swinger Kelly's cool delivery and explicit carnality. That said, in seven short years, Songz has stepped out from under the "I Believe I Can Fly" guy's wings. In a field where personality often trumps talent, Songz possesses both qualities in ample supply. With all-star co-writers like Ryuichi Sakamoto plus mentor (and former Whitney Houston collaborator) Troy Taylor, Songz crafts hits that are not so much tunes as heat-seeking missiles targeted at the mainstream. This is both good and bad. He can easily descend to gleefully stupid fuck-crazy bangers like "Say Aah" and the salacious tag-team with Nicki Minaj, "Bottoms Up." Still, the swagger, though jacked-up, is genuine, because Songz is too voraciously ambitious to play it faux cool. When Songz plays it wide-eyed and vulnerable, as he does on the weepy ballad "Heart Attack," the results are gritty, grounded and convincing. Equally heartfelt and horny, Songz' wobbly mood swings are smoothed over by his magnificent voice. $45.50-$65.50. Dec. 14, 8 p.m. Bojangles' Coliseum, 2700 E. Independence Blvd. 704-372-3600.

WANDA JACKSON
Queen of Rock 'n' Roll Wanda Jackson, once a great beauty, ain't lookin' too good these days, but who could blame her? Now well into her 70s, the rockabilly star of the '50s and '60s is making records, and that's what matters anyway. Following her 2009 induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, Jackson dropped The Party Ain't Over with the help of Jack White last year. But where White's arrangements overpowered and diminished her still-formidable voice, making her sound feeble and way past her prime, her recent release, Unfinished Business, produced by Justin Townes Earle, does just the opposite. Jackson's voice isn't quite what it used to be (did I mention she's 75?), but she still has great control and expressive power and songwriting smarts, and J.T.E. has found the perfect space for her among slide guitars and slower-tempo tunes. Ol' Wanda may look a little rough around the edges, but she still sounds good. With Jonny Fritz, Temperance League. $15-$35. Dec. 13, 8 p.m. Neighborhood Theatre, 511 E. 36th St. 704-358-9298.

PSY
No one would blame you if you were sick of "Gangnam Style" by now. But even if the mere sight of someone horsey dancing at the club makes you want to scratch your eyes out, you should think twice before passing up a chance to see PSY live. For one thing, the dude is a consummate professional and bona fide badass by Korean standards, what with his shirked military service and legal run-ins over pot use. His stage show is the kind of dancer-encrusted spectacle that's as ridiculous as it is irresistible. The point is, he's fun. That's it. That pudgy, middle-aged dude in the shades onstage knows as well as you and I how unlikely his U.S. success was, and it gives his whole persona an edge of urgency and joy that's undeniable. No cynics, crossed arms or irony allowed. This one's for the folks who just wanna have a good time. With Cher Lloyd, Conor Maynard, Rita Ora, Cody Simpson. Sold out. Dec. 12, 7 p.m. The Fillmore, 1000 N.C. Music Factory Blvd. 704-549-5555.

Marina & The Diamonds
Marina & the Diamonds is actually the singular Welsh singer-songwriter Marina Diamandis, who wants us to know all about her love/hate relationship with pop culture. To that end, the quirky songbird has taken on a soulless, materialistic alter ego named for her new LP Electra Heart. Confused? You should be, and I bet Ms. Diamandis is, too. Some back story: Drawing on '80s dance music and Liz Phair-style heartbreak-hardened alt-rock, Diamandis swept up accolades with her 2010 full-length debut The Family Jewels. Marrying piano ballads with electro beats to swooping vocals that recall New Wave Valkyrie Lene Lovich, Diamandis' sugar-rush pop was a sublime counterweight to her cynical, often sour lyrics. Early hit "I Am Not a Robot," still her best cut, hones a Kate-Nash-meets-Kate-Bush vocal to a unique blend of British eccentricity and raw emotional power. Unfortunately, the newer Electra Heart material swamps Diamandis in an unwieldy concept. Attempting to spotlight artificiality with artifice, Diamandis comments on vapidity and hollowness with generic dance-floor bangers that are both vapid and hollow. Diamandis may think it's oh-so-meta to turn contemporary self-absorption on itself, but she's really just disappearing up her own ass. With Icona Pop. $26.50. Dec. 11, 7:30 p.m. The Fillmore, 1000 N.C. Music Factory Blvd. 704-549-5555.