After a lengthy hiatus, the God Damn Doo Wop Band return to the Hexagon like Arthur from Avalon (or would Col. Bowie from the Alamo be a more fitting analogy?). After a perfect storm of vehicular misfortunes and the untimely departure of vocalist Carissa Coudray, the God Damn Doo Wop Band emerge from hibernation with Annie Holoien (Soviettes, Awesome Snakes) before the mic and their long-awaited vinyl 7-inch under their arms. There are few acts that incite more genteel behavior from such a roughneck crowd, and that's the Doo Wop Band's charm. Through odes to misspent youth and the foolishness of love, the Doo Wop Band proves that beneath every Black Label vest lies the bashful prom wallflower who clung to the gymnasium risers, dimly hoping for a slow dance before the night ran out. With the God Damn Doo Wop Band, we all get a second chance. 21+. — David Hansen

What if you threw a fantastic dance party and no one came? Might want to ask Craig Pfunder. His band, the Louisville, Kentucky-based VHS or Beta, have spent the better part of their career touring the country's cozier establishments. This Friday's show will mark the band's second time playing the 7th St. Entry in support of their latest, the underrated Bring On the Comets. But if the band members are getting a bit weary of cramped quarters, they do a good job of hiding it—Pfunder & Co. rarely fail to deliver an evening of pelvis-rattling anthems, glorious dance music infused with a punk-ish snarl. The no-shows don't know what they're missing. The two openers, Tigercity and locals Maps of Norway, both give their bassists starring roles, but don't expect many other similarities between the bands' smooth, disco-tinged funk and ominous coldwave, respectively. 18+. — Jonathan Garrett

Long ago in a rave galaxy far away (or just Minneapolis some years back), a consensus was reached between friends at a party that Intellephunk's super-dedicated founding DJ, Steve "Centrific" Seuhling, would still be blaring Richie Hawtin into his techno-trampled ears somewhere on a rickety porch well into his 80s. Well, kids, we're 10 whole years closer to that increasingly less-bizarre notion—bringing a tear to my eye for reasons both vain and sentimental—and the infamous crew is celebrating its legacy of corrupting the city's youth into sinister soldiers of mega-watt sound with a supreme party themed after George Lucas's 1971 film, THX 1138. "IPH1138" will feature a barrage of beat masters ranging from heavyweights Richard Devine and Mark Verbos to long-loved local staples E-Tones, Apollo, Mike G., and Centrific himself. In theme with Lucas's film, you'll get a barcode stamped on your bod, which you can use throughout the night to access art installations. So much has changed in the world since the IPH crew threw their first rave here in 1998, but the group's fervor for music has remained thankfully constant. "The pants are smaller and the music got slower, but we have grown up together and now complement each other as whole," Centrific states. So come celebrate Grandpa Steve and Co.'s vast contributions to Minneapolis. Be sure to hit up www.intellephunk.com for more information. — Jen Boyles

If love really is just a dialogue, as the Kills claim on their latest single "Cheap and Cheerful," it's a good thing that they don't have much use for it. Instead, VV and Hotel, with their sleazy, staccato riffs and tar-stained vocals, articulate pure animal lust. Midnight Boom, their third full-length album, remains splendidly untamed, the pheromones still too powerful to ignore. Though the Armani XXXchange-assisted beats (Alex Epton of Spank Rock), which draw inspiration from schoolyard chants, do misjudge the line between sinister and creepy at times, they rarely distract from VV and Hotel. And the duo's command extends to the stage, where their predatory vignettes are brought to life with sidelong glances and suggestive poses. The tension is palpable, but love's got nothing to do with it. With Telepathe. 18+. — Jonathan Garrett