Look for some serious booty-shakin', floor-quakin' seismisms when Rubblebucket, a clutch of jammy, funky, world-y, rainbow-drenched troubadours, bursts into town.
The New York-based band's onomatopoeic moniker suits its crazy collection of trumpet, trombone, synthesizers, guitar, percussion and saxophone that acts as a giant ship with a set course but the voyagers upon which--Rubblebucket's numbers vary from eight to 12--are willing to let the wind change their direction. Navigator and singer Kalmia Traver's voice is an amalgam of whispers and wails that, even when she's singing something slightly dotty--"Our silly fathers went running in the heathers"--make it hard to turn away. If the entire group fell into a hot tub time machine, Rubblebucket's giant pulsing beats would make them right at home about the time Carter was in office. But you don't have to time travel--you just have to go to the Reef to party like it's 1979.