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ELIOT LIPP
9 p.m., Revolution. $10 adv., $15 d.o.s.

I’m never going to learn my lesson. Every single time I go to a music store, I’ll absentmindedly pluck at a few guitars or poke at a keyboard while waiting for the right time to dart off toward the sequencers and drum machines. Inevitably, I end up annoying the employees as just another in a long, annoying line of clumsy, beat-illiterate white dudes who maybe, possibly, one day could churn out something listenable on blink-y, button-y doodads if only we had as much rhythm as dumb-ass ambition. Eliot Lipp, on the other hand, is the guy we all want to be. Since 2004, the young Brooklynite has been squeezing a blend of proto-house and ’90s hip-hop out of two tables full of vintage, analog equipment. Think Ratatat getting blunted with Madlib in a basement loaded with all the buttons and knobs you don’t know how to use. Even better, his songs are obscenely catchy. (Check out “Homework” and “The Area” on YouTube.) He’s joined by Ana Sia, a dreamy DJ from San Francisco whose glitched-out take on dubstep wobble goes harder than most of the boys’.

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