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Kim had the talent and Kelley had the smack, but the worst-born of the Breeders is still Veruca Salt. Taking Kelley’s high-concept unpracticed guitar as an excuse, Louise Post is now reigning master of those up-the-neck/down-the-neck, wow-here’s-a-scale solos that brand the fretboard novice like the mark of Cain. Meanwhile, in the Kelley Deal 6000, the lesser Breeder has made a canny retreat into ‘tude, fuzz, and some actual writing. The indolent sass that makes Go to the Sugar Altar an unfocused pleasure may not be due to heroin chic (this is last year’s album, silly; no one’s got the new one yet), but it owes as much to junk culture. Radar Bros.’ Jim Putnam figures he’s Stephen Malkmus and Will Oldham rolled into one, but someone forgot to tell him that he’s been stuffed—OK, languidly stuffed—up Jay Farrar’s ass and left to die. With Trona at 8:30 p.m. at the Black Cat, 1831 14th St. NW. $8. (202) 667-7960. (Glenn Dixon)