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4

SATURDAY

Are there enough alterna-singers sporting the Morrissey Mullet now? New York sprouts these dudes so fast, Bushie investigators might want to check Brooklyn’s lofts for evidence of a clone farm: Entertainment! on constant rotation, sullenly smudged black eyeliner, Ian Curtis’ funerary togs. To like this most recent wave of neo– New Wavers is akin to wearing that Padres throwback jersey: It’s putting style over substance. But occasionally, a period performer’s exuberance for the role saves a band from the schlock. You can’t help but feel like a spoiler if you dis the Futureheads. The guys just try sooo hard. And the band’s pedigree is stellar: Its self-titled debut gives production credits to Andy Gill, its perfectly cascading harmonies and stuttery guitar recall In The City’s rhythms, and there are references to being “canny mad” in the band tour diary. No band has made Paul Weller more relevant since Oasis got those bowl cuts. Hear what the group’s Web site politely calls an “instantly identifiable sonic niche” when the Futureheads play with High Speed Scene and Pitty Sing at 10 p.m. at the 9:30 Club, 815 V St. NW. $15. (202) 397-7328. (Jason Cherkis)