POP MUSIC

Sync

Ned Rothenberg has long been one of the most inventive, consistently satisfying performer-composers on the New York new music scene, always exploring the edges (who else plays the Japanese shakuhachi in jazz?) and embarking on strange, evocative and ear-bending forays into the sonic unknown.

On Saturday night he brought his intriguing trio, Sync -- with Samir Chatterjee on tablas and Jerome Harris on acoustic guitars -- to Takoma Park's Sangha performance space. Rothenberg himself is a virtuosic winds player with a wide palette of multiphonics, circular breathing and other advanced techniques, all in service to one of the most distinctive musical imaginations around.

And the music was flat-out gorgeous, with a warmth not always found in contemporary music. Playing everything from alto sax to bass clarinet, Rothenberg launched adventurous, intricate solos that unfolded effortlessly through smoky blues and otherworldly squawks to intimate modal ruminations. His sense of line and drama is impeccable, and over Chatterjee's roiling tabla work and Harris's introspective guitar lines, the effect was compelling.

At first glance, this variation on the standard drums/bass/winds setup looks strained, like a blind date among world-music idioms. And scholars might debate whether shakuhachi, brushed tablas and slide bass guitar will ever really click together.

But this is unusually thoughtful music, and the subtleties of the tabla, along with Harris's sinuous guitar work, beautifully complemented Rothenberg's detailed, colorful and hyper-imaginative playing.

-- Stephen Brookes

The Cult

"This next song is just a smack in the face," Cult frontman Ian Astbury warned a rowdy, capacity crowd Saturday at the 9:30 club. "Who wants some?" Apparently, nearly everyone.

It's been five years since the band last released an album, so the Cult's "A Return to the Wild" tour is a bit of a surprise. And considering the unevenness of the British rockers' 22-year career, the fact that the re-formed group -- rather, the group's continual but contentious essence, Astbury and guitarist Billy Duffy, plus a few helpers -- is consistently selling out dates is perhaps even more unexpected. Add in the duo's reputation for often phoning it in live, and the show amounted to one dicey ticket.

Although the nearly two-hour, 19-song set included a few generic, tiresome arena-rockers that recalled the worst of '80s hair metal, the band itself was tight and energetic. Astbury's voice never faltered as the group offered selections from each of its albums, including hits such as "Sweet Soul Sister" and the radio smash "She Sells Sanctuary." An acoustic version of "Edie (Ciao Baby)," with only Astbury and Duffy onstage, was also a highlight, even though the aching sweetness of this tribute to the troubled Edie Sedgwick was marred by Duffy's brief tantrum about the sound system.

-- Tricia Olszewski

The Cult

"This next song is just a smack in the face," Cult frontman Ian Astbury warned a rowdy, capacity crowd Saturday at the 9:30 club. "Who wants some?" Apparently, nearly everyone.

It's been five years since the band last released an album, so the Cult's "A Return to the Wild" tour is a bit of a surprise. And considering the unevenness of the British rockers' 22-year career, the fact that the re-formed group -- rather, the group's continual but contentious essence, Astbury and guitarist Billy Duffy, plus a few helpers -- is consistently selling out dates is perhaps even more unexpected. Add in the duo's reputation for often phoning it in live, and the show amounted to one dicey ticket.

Although the nearly two-hour, 19-song set included a few generic, tiresome arena-rockers that recalled the worst of '80s hair metal, the band itself was tight and energetic. Astbury's voice never faltered as the group offered selections from each of its albums, including hits such as "Sweet Soul Sister" and the radio smash "She Sells Sanctuary." An acoustic version of "Edie (Ciao Baby)," with only Astbury and Duffy onstage, was also a highlight, even though the aching sweetness of this tribute to the troubled Edie Sedgwick was marred by Duffy's brief tantrum about the sound system.

-- Tricia Olszewski