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Beth Orton earned her breakbeat cred in London, lending her throaty croon to a couple of Chemical Brothers jams that you might remember as being more sensual than any of the others. Something of a spiritual adventurer, Orton once spent the better part of four months meditating in a Thai monastery. So by rights, one might expect Orton to grow into some sort of feminine sage of the mixing console. The problem (besides the fact that women haven’t been known to do that sort of thing) is that Orton plays acoustic guitar and has made, in Trailer Park, the kind of singer-songwriter record that Joni Mitchell might forfeit past royalties to put her name on. Park’s echoed ricochet-beats and expansive, loop-de-loop soundscapes settle like rain in the background as Orton endeavors to live as she dreams and to chronicle infatuation as a life-altering experience. To these ears, it’s the finest pure-pop moment electronica’s seen since Everything But the Girl’s Walking Wounded. At 7 p.m. at the 9:30 Club, 815 V St. NW. $8. (202) 393-0930. (Brett Anderson)