You’re the progeny of the reigning monarchs of English traditional music. Your dad taught “Scarborough Fair” to Paul Simon. Your mom’s family perpetuated such trad songs as “The Wanton Wife of Castlegate.” How do you assert your independence? (a) Dye your hair bubble-gum hues and pierce some cartilage. (b) Make a Liz Phair singer/shockwriter move with a song that opens: “I’ve given blowjobs on couches/To men who didn’t want me anymore.” (c) Develop a maestro’s touch on the fiddle, a low-lonesome voice that’s as British as bluebells, and a repertoire of modern songs that you tackle with a timeless sensibility. Eliza Carthy has done all three, but (c) is the only one that really matters. On Angels and Cigarettes, Carthy weaves a skein of triphop, film-score strings, and balladry through lyrics about asthma attacks, pity for thin girls, and blowjobs (probably not an unfamiliar subject to that Castlegate wench). Catch the Siren of Scarborough at 6 p.m. at the Kennedy Center’s Millennium Stage. Free. (202) 467-4600. (Pamela Murray Winters)