Just a dash of emo

After curfew: If you happened to be a student, the August 23 show at Harlow’s Restaurant & Nightclub was, at the very least, a creative study break on a Tuesday night. At best? An impressive midweek show. Four bands delivered indie and retrofitted pop rock to a crowd of 50 or so folks, likely vampires or just working people defying their bedtimes.

Sounds of Satellites opened, its tone further down to earth than the band name suggests. Much further. Not spacey at all, in fact. More like earnest-as-hell suburban indie rock, with a dash of emo. The Orange County four-piece was fun to witness with its dramatic lunges and stumbles on the heavier parts, and in the moments where guitars and drums just whispered, heart-sinker monologues from the band’s vocalist. The music and lyrics of “Late,” a song about the death of a close friend’s father, sliced particularly deep.

Tire Iron, a Sacramento troupe, followed with rock licks and rhythms harkening back to the 1960s and ’70s, easy to pick up on a first impression. The singer, in a good way, lightly reminded me of John Fogerty, and the guitar work of Creedence Clearwater Revival, only grungier and heavier.

Next, Death Party at the Beach offered ’80s surf melancholia, with light guitar hooks and punchy bass riding new wave nostalgia. The band continued its live set staple and rocked a cover of Tears for Fears’ “Everybody Wants to Rule the World.” A dance party ensued, the crowd busting moves that also belonged to that decade.

Last was the Good Fortune, a local indie-pop band. Picture warm, John Mayer-esque blues guitar and vocals. R&B lovemaking beats. A pillow of dreamy synth. At times dazed and soothing, and sometimes awake, upbeat and funky.

The Good Fortune’s keyboardist jokingly protested when the crowd pleaded an encore.

“But it’s a school night,” he said over the mic. After all, we were somewhere in between Tuesday and Wednesday at that point. The band obliged another song anyway.

—Mozes Zarate

Punk party: Sacramento’s favorite punk sisters of Dog Party released a new record last month, and it’s the darkest one yet.

And, OK, Dog Party’s darkest is still not exactly doomy, but ’Til You’re Mine demonstrates a distinct shift from 2015’s Vol. 4. While the latter was full of bubble gum pop-punk—upbeat, sunny, irreverent—the new album, also on Asian Man Records, feels edgy, grungy and hard-hitting. It also marks the band’s first album release with Dog Party’s members as two certified adults, with guitarist Gwen Giles at 20 and drummer Lucy Giles at 18. Fitting, then, that some lyrics show new depth.

Still, the basics remain: power-pop meets indie punk, with simple structures, a zippy pace and a classic sensibility, recalling Bikini Kill, the Ramones and the Buzzcocks. Fittingly, there’s a badass cover of Bikini Kill’s “Rebel Girl,” full of fiery, angry energy that seems like Dog Party’s logical next progression. Then again, maybe clues to the future actually sit with ’Til You’re Mine’s closer, the playful, 20-second jolt “Caffeine.” Either way, sounds like fun.

Motown, renewed: Century Got Bars grew up in Detroit, and the emcee says Motown was a unifying force when she was growing up. No matter what, Motown was the soundtrack at home, and it brought generations together.

That’s why she created The Motown EP: a tribute to her hometown—and a free gift to get folks in Sacramento grooving this summer. Produced by fellow Sacramento rapper Mahtie Bush, the five-track EP utilizes samples from Motown hits to create an old-school, feel-good vibe. It’s a prime match for Century’s smooth, dynamic flow, though the mixing could use a little more polish in some places.

Century’s raps also cleverly play off of the Motown selections. On “It’s a Shame,” she and Marianna Sousa discuss police brutality, human trafficking and homelessness while Young Pulse’s “Got To Be A Shame” echoes in the background. On “Can’t Stop Me,” Century recounts a romance while Diana Ross & the Supremes provide the bookends with “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.” Hit it at http://century1.bandcamp.com.

—Janelle Bitker