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When the Silos played the old 9:30 Club three years ago, Walter Salas-Humara paused midset, looked out at the springtime crowd, and half-haplessly asked if anybody had heard of his band. The loud bar talk, already punctuated by the clatter of Rolling Rocks, was interrupted by scattered but enthusiastic applause. Then the Silos went back to work, and everybody went back to what they were doing. Which, if you were there because it was Friday night, meant welcoming the weekend. But if you were there because you knew one of the most unalternative of indie rockers to be as quietly, devastatingly affecting as songwriters come, you were waiting for your song. For me, in ’94, that meant “Commodore Peter”; this year it means “Get Out” or “Take My Country Back” or “Susan Across the Ocean” or “Margaret” or…please, let’s not make him ask it again, OK? With Whirligig and Yuma House at 8:30 p.m. at the Black Cat, 1831 14th St. NW. $8. (202) 667-7960. (Glenn Dixon)