Cedrick Bogan
Cedrick Bogan

Dieselboy (aka Damian Higgins) has been the most technically precise drum and bass DJ for 20 years straight. Dude's a live sensation—his vinyl beat matching is peerless and he can create cinematic four deck mixes on the fly. In the rare category of DJs who own labels (Human Imprint), played the big three fests—Bassrush, Bonnaroo and EDC—and toured internationally, Higgins secured his place atop the sonic chain in EDM's evolution. His sets, often sci-fi or post-apocalyptic in theme, weave past greats in dubstep, electro and trap into mad blends that please both ravers and metalheads. (He's toured with both Moby and Disturbed!) Ably named "The Destroyer" for his soul-crushing breaks, Higgins aims for sonic mind-fuck of "heaven crashing into hell." Intelligent and self-aware, his intro to "Wake the Dead" is a thinly veiled reference to death of the art of DJing. So meta! Friday, Dec. 14, 191 Toole. Doors at 10 p.m. $12. —B.S. Eliot

Cedrick Bogan was likely that overly bright middle-school locker-room sensation who tuned the kids on with his endearing old-school flow. And he's making it happen for himself "from the ground up to be a man about it." This Tucson MC nicks heavily from early '90s greats, spitting like BIG and NAS, while rocking an Eazy-thin 'stache, and backed by high-pitched, Dre-inspired hooks, with DIY bedroom twists. On the recent "Du Wut I Say So," Bogan calls and responds to his own voice, which the ultimate lo-fi echo. He dishes out dated references like Jose Conseco and "l'eggo my eggo" with such candor and sincerity, he's like the shouty neighbor kid you can't close the door on. His best tune, "Like a Boss," is a repetitive word slur that blurs the lines of meaning and pure sonic joy. And those Doggystyle/Chronic-like beats are welcome ear candy for the trap-weary soul. Cedrick Bogan with Trizz, Chuuwee and Reazun, Dec. 14. The Dive, 5801 S. Palo Verde Rd, Doors at 10 p.m. $13. 18+. —B.S. Eliot

Decker channels his surroundings into music. This psych folk singer-songwriter from Sedona, Decker has tripped the mystic fantastic through red rock country, unironically opening his heart to the cycle of life—from the death of his beloved grandmother to the birth of his son, on his brand new album, Born to Wake Up. From the invocation to the outro, Decker orchestrates a John Cage-like symphony of chirping, howling, and native chant that forms a desert wall of sound to underscore his plainspoken, Tom Petty-inspired melodies. And it works! Tackling topics like Eden without pretension, Decker muses, "I like it better when you still pretended you were whole." His clang-jangle guitars insert meditative breaks between verses and recall The Church. "Burnin Grass" sends up anyone seeking answers in nature, while the innocently inspired title tune is gentle list song for his newborn, "You were born to move mountains/You were born to save." With Tucson's mighty Carlos Arzate & the Kind Souls, and Keli Carpenter. Friday, Dec.14, Club Congress, 311 East Congress St., $5. 21+. —B.S. Eliot

Chateau Chateau is a sparkle-fest indie pop band from Tucson. So far they've penned tightly wound dance pop, equal parts retraint and power, with all seven slender players moving into one almighty groove. And they snap, clap and whoop their songs in sweet gold lame, club kids with record collections crammed with Sparks, Byrne, Bowie, Of Montreal, Kylie Minogue, Tower of Power and Electric Six. Two guitars, bass, tenor sax, singer, drums, and keys keep the swingin' party afloat. Their first single, "Crisis Party," a synth-bomb gem-jam about the inevitability of change ask why not celebrate instead of fight it? Their debut album's title tune, "Evidence," finds singer Blake's high, thin vocals alternatively pleading and boasting, "This is evidence that I got wasted." This band promises thoughtfully crafted celebrations of excess, the personality crisis kind of excess that sees your mirror gettin' jammed up with all your friends. With Spider Cider and Crooked Saintz, Saturday, Dec. 15, Club Congress, 311 East Congress St., Doors at 7 p.m. Free. 21+. —B.S. Eliot