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In the clubs

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Now on Jetset Records, Luna (pictured above), featuring hazy-voiced frontman Dean Wareham (Galaxy 500), has released another album of Wareham's jaded romantica, titled (only half ironically), Romantica. A New Zealander by birth, a Manhattanite by the grace of God and convenience, Wareham has written lyrics that play like a series of postcards smudged with "black champagne," "Singapore noodles" and "blackberry pie" (all song references), vignettes written as "the air turns creamy" under the canopy "of a million, a billion, a trillion stars." (Blinded by "Lovedust"--the opening track--indeed.) This beguiling summer album smells like tangerines and cigarette smoke and tastes like tears and lipstick, with Luna's Velvets-esque arrangements lending themselves to the subject matter and new bassist Britta Phillips lending airy backing vocals. Their live shows are fairly subdued affairs, but the plus is you can actually make out the lyrics. Joining them is the fabulous Jim White, a singer-songwriter who's been called "Florida's answer to Nick Cave." White's songs are full of depravity and redemption: Check out "God Was Drunk When He Made Me" on the disc No Such Place. See them both this Saturday, June 22, at the Cat's Cradle in Carrboro. Call 967-9053 for details.

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