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19

WEDNESDAY

When I was a young lass, we had wholesome idols. David Cassidy, of course, and that nice li’l Michael Jackson. Today, the girls swoon over such sick-puppy loves as Steve Poltz, him of the surfer-dude body, the Chris Isaak–meets–Rufus Wainwright face, and the countless curly-cursive-bedecked fan pages. But don’t be fooled by Poltzie’s former altar-boy status; just check out his song titles: “Perfumed Letters from Death Row,” “You Bastard,” “Dog Doo Blues (Take #48),” “Dahmer’s Song,” “Glenn Goes Piss,” and his masterwork, “I Killed Walter Matthau.” An online bio suggests he’s to be pitied more than censured: “One time when I was about ten years old [I] crashed head first on my bike into a parked construction truck. I took over 50 stitches to my skull. It was shortly after this accident that I started to write songs.” Good thing that face was unscathed—and that brain wasn’t. Figure out what the girls see in him when Poltz plays at 8 p.m. at Jammin’ Java, 227 Maple Ave. East, Vienna. $15. (703) 255-1566. (Pamela Murray Winters)