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M O N D A Y
Alex Chilton is back on Ardent, the revived Memphis label of his Big Star days, but his new record, A Man Called Destruction, isn’t much different from his recent R&B-flavored duds—the competent work of a sly, post-power-pop craftsman plying his trade. On his latest, Chilton seems more comfortable covering Jimmy Reed and Brian Wilson obscurities than trotting through his own uninspired originals, which rely more heavily on tired horn arrangements than they do inventive hooks. Chilton devotees who miss their Dixie-fried pop visionary will have to wait for the much-anticipated CD release of 1979’s Like Flies on Sherbert, a testimonial to the glories of overindulgence captured on tape by Jim Dickinson. Nevertheless, Chilton is always worth checking out in concert, if only because he’s such a moody crank, capable of performing Bach, Big Star, or “Little G.T.O.” with equal passion and aplomb. For Squirrels opens at 8:45 p.m. at the 9:30 Club, 930 F St. NW. $12. (202) 393-0930. (Eddie Dean)