Unfortunately, the worthwhile all ages pickins are quite slim this week, with a whopping one kick ass show.  However, next week Philly has six age-restriction-free shows (including my buddy, Elizabeth Ziman, hitting up the Factory in support of Sara Bareilles) that you should consider checking out, so catch up on your studies this week and count on the following week for some fun (If you’re in my Mosaic II class, you may want to power through as much of Marx as you can this week.)

Deer Tick @ Harrison Auditorium @ UPenn (10/14)

8pm, $10/$15

So, for whatever reason, every college seems to get one major concert per year that they are forced to hold in some clearly-not-meant-for-a-rock-band room.  It’s a little bizarre and uncomfortable (What is the etiquette for profanity, alcohol consumption, and general regard for the well-being of your setting in a room that, the following Monday, is scheduled to host one of the world’s most progressive neurosurgeons?)  However, for this very reason, a lot of these shows can actually turn out to be fun and quite memorable.  One of the best concerts I’ve ever been to was Luscious Jackson at the Naval Academy in 1999.  The room was only about 10% full and 90% of those filling it were midshipmen.  I was invited onstage to dance alongside half a dozen of these midshipmen during “City Song.”  They were all in their uniforms… I was in vinyl from Lip Service.

Well, this Friday the rowdy, twangy, sloshy rock of Deer Tick will find itself in Ivy League Squaresville.  How these comically clashing cultural aesthetics will collide is anyone’s guess… but I’m leaning toward amusement, at the very least.  The Providence band will be previewing songs from their upcoming release, Divine Providence (which drops 10/25 on Partisan Records), which somehow seamlessly blends Country, “Classic Rock,” Punk, and Sock Hop into a record that is the most pleasantly surprising I’ve heard since first encountering Never Mind the Bollocks, Here’s the Sex Pistols in the fourth grade.  If the show turns out to be the beautiful trainwreck that I’m hoping for, I vow to stop referring to the group as “Nikki Darlin’s husband’s band.”