The 10 songs on Fang Island evoke power pop at its finest, with soaring guitar solos and sincere, wordless chants and the crackling energy of a packed arena. As the band's MySpace page aptly describes the music, it sounds like "everyone high-fiving everyone."

Needless to say, it was a bit strange when some of the more, shall we say, stuffy music critics began singing the band's praises this year. Perhaps those most surprised were the band members themselves.

"The music was made totally under the radar, it was made for a love of making songs, and it was made for the love of hanging out and playing music," says guitarist Nick Sadler. "Literally no one was watching and we didn't know what it was going to become."

The positive press comes several years after Fang Island began as part of a class project at the Rhode Island School of Design. Sadler wasn't in the band when it started: However, he did attend the Community College of Rhode Island as a fine arts student, vut dropped out to focus on grindcore noisemakers Daughters. Sadler's connection to Fang Island happened quite fortuitously.

"I ended up dating a close friend of theirs who brought me out to see them play and I made friends with these guys," he says. "One day they said they were looking for a third guitar player, and I really wanted that to be me. I pushed the issue quite a bit, and then that did happen."

The band members not only infuse their music with positive energy, but their personal lives as well. It's why Sadler wanted to be a part of Fang Island in the first place.

"I really wanted to hang out with these guys, because they were constantly having a good time all the time. They lived in this big house with all their friends, it was three stories and there were lots of parties," he says. "I was like, 'damn, I need to hang out with these guys, they have the right idea [of] how to have fun, and they all seem like really good friends. I just want to get involved with that idea.'"

Sadler & Co. have since taken that idea around the country and back again. Fang Island has been touring off-and-on since March, doing a fair number of solo shows and opening for groups like The Flaming Lips, Stone Temple Pilots, Matt & Kim, and Coheed & Cambria. The band is on the final leg of the tour—which will see them stop at the Rock & Roll Hotel tomorrow—tough the work won't stop when they get home: They'll be working on the next Fang Island album soon.

The group has been so engrossed in touring that its only recently found time to clean out the van. "It's kind of one of those things where we did not want to acknowledge how dirty it was," Sadler says. "We had a couple days off, and just sort of cleaned it out and got rid of all the crap that was in here. Food and cups of coffee, and just random things like fireworks and Halloween lights, who knows how many magazines and books, 20 pairs of shoes for no reason. Just weird shit."

Fang Island performs with Delicate Steve and The Black Girls tomorrow at 8 p.m. at the Rock & Roll Hotel.

It's easy to see why many have overlooked the experimental quintet, which will release a remix EP on D.C.'s Sockets Records in May: One can throw a rock in the group's native Brooklyn and hit five art-rock acts. Yet, as Made Flesh makes apparent, it's hard to understand how anyone could ignore Extra Life. Fronted by musical wiz kid Charlie Looker—a former member of the art-punk act Zs who has worked with Glenn Branca and Dirty Projectors—Extra Life exudes an exuberant and visceral sound missing from many of the band's artier peers, yet maintains a musical complexity and intelligence in every song.

Take "The Ladder," which clocks in at a little less than six-and-a-half minutes. The tune is as dynamic as any in the band's small oeuvre and suggests the kind of patience in its execution that many acts fail to demonstrate over decades-long careers. The ditty starts off slowly, and just as Looker sends his vocals into a gymnastics routine suggesting Gregorian chant, the song takes flight: Diversions toward mathy progressions collide with a creaky-sounding violin while Nicholas Podgurski's hardcore-worthy drumming directs the disparate sounds into a fluid whole.

Made Flesh is something of a step up, or rather, a step toward a more accessible composure for the band. Extra Life's criminally overlooked 2008 debut, Secular Works, sounds almost unapproachable by comparison. The new album is more fluid, its sonic flow a little clearer,  its dynamic changes harder.

One thing that may help people notice the band this time isn't even on the album. It's Dave Longstreth. Looker and Extra Life have garnered a lot of comparisons to Longstreth's Dirty Projectors, and Looker's own foray as a Projector has provided a great hook for many music writers and fans searching for a way to describe the band.

While Looker's intricate guitar play and vocal bungee-jumping certainly recall his peer's work, Extra Life is harder, more complex, and maybe even more spellbinding than Dirty Projectors. Still, once the Projectors' Bitte Orca hit the Billboard 200, the doors swung open for groups as challenging as Extra Life to find a larger audience. Fine, but experimental groups should now be less concerned with big numbers than measuring up to what Extra Life has made.

Extra Life performs tomorrow at We Used to be Family, Mr. Moccasin and Truth Serum at Windup Space in Baltimore.

Read the full City Lights pick here; concert details after the jump:

ALBERTA CROSS PERFORMS WITH HACIENDA AT 9 P.M. AT THE BLACK CAT, 1811 14TH ST. NW. $10. (202) 667-4490.

We at Arts Desk have mentioned before that the DMV's own Wale is maybe probably kind of dating Beyonce's little sister Solange. Now, the gossip site Mediatakeout.com, (say what you want about 'em, but they very often get these things right) is reporting that Solange and Wale are house-hunting in Brooklyn. Or at least that Solange is house-hunting and Wale is tagging along. Or he's been spotted in the general area of her house hunt or something. Whatever—the couple has been seen together in Brooklyn and apparently some kind of real estate is involved, and it sounds like things between them are getting serious.

This is a very troubling turn of events.

Solange is a nice enough woman, and we're sure Wale would feel at home in Brooklyn, a borough awash in tight jeans and nerd raps. But as he gets closer to Solange, it's almost inevitable that he'll become chummy with Jay-Z and, as many young rappers on the cusp of stardom know, that is not the move.

So, Wale, if you're reading this, here are a few reasons why you should stay far, far away from one Shawn Carter. (Hanging out with Bun B is still perfectly acceptable, though).

• You don't want to become the next Memph Bleek

Yes, your album Attention Deficit is finally coming out on Nov. 10 and everyone is very excited about it! Right now. But we were also excited about Memphis Bleek's debut album Coming of Age. For some reason, being associated with Jay-Z is deadly for up-and-coming rappers.  So much as brush up against Jay at a club and you can kiss your rap aspirations goodbye.  And it's even worse if Jay actually decides to have a hand in your career development. Remember Diamonds in Da Rough? Peedi Peedi? Amil? Yeah, neither do we.

• He will outshine you

You could go from D.C.'s  "hip-hop break-out star" to "brother-in-law of Jay-Z and Beyonce" in the blink of an eye, and no one wants that to happen. No matter how dope you are or how great your debut album turns out to be (fingers-crossed), Jay-Z's star power will extinguish yours. If you befriend him, you are totally on your way to being listed as an "unidentified friend of Jay-Z" in some candid picture in Us Weekly.

• If you mess over Solange, you could be the next victim on that Summer Jam stage

Jay-Z is known for calling people out during Hot 97's annual Summer Jam concert, and if you don't treat his wife's sister right, I imagine he'd make it his business to similarly humiliate you. If there are any unflattering pictures from your past, hide them NOW.

• He's going to make you an outlet for his umlaut fetish

Jay-Z loves a good piece of unnecessary punctuation—see the umlauts over the "y" in his name on the cover of the CD single for "Dead Presidents." Wale, you have managed to teach an entire nation—an entire planet!—of hip-hop lovers to pronounce your name without resorting to so much as an accent, but there's a chance Jay-Z could convince you to use one. Don't do it.

Tonight DC-based record label Sockets, who released the CD, titled Da' Brats From Da' Ville, will be celebrate the record with a dance/listening party at Red Lounge. The ladies themselves probably aren't going to be in attendance, give that it's a school night. But DJs from Fatback will be around to blast the Fly Girlz's music along with some other fine tunes.

Fly Girlz Listening Party @ Red Lounge
2013 14th st.
9 pm.

It has been more than two and a half years since Sufjan Stevens released a studio album, nearly three years since he released an album of non-Christmas songs, and almost four years since he released an album that wasn't just a compilation (albeit a compelling one) of outtakes from his previous album. The man who once pledged to write a concept album for each of the 50 U.S. states is fast becoming the prolific musician who wasn't–and the natives are getting restless.

Normally, when a beloved artist fails to release a much-anticipated album, it leaves his votaries in the tricky situation of being swollen with frustration but, wary of biting the hand that feeds, unable to unload it on anyone. Enter Alec Duffy, a self-content theatre director from Brooklyn, winner of last winter's Sufjan song-swap–a contest wherein Sufjan pledged to send a copy of an unreleased single to the fan who presented him with the best original song. Mr. Duffy composed a wholesome holididdy called "It's Christmas Every Day," and won.

On receiving his coveted prize, Mr. Duffy declined to put the song, reportedly titled "The Lonely Man of Winter," on the Web as feverishly anticipated. Rather, he issued this coy promulgation (as quoted by The 405):

In an effort to counter the cheapening effects of Internet all-availability, and to recapture an era when to get one’s hands on a particular album or song was a real experience, we at my theater company, Hoi Polloi, would like to share this song with Sufjan fans in a special way. We would like to invite you to our Brooklyn home for an exclusive listening session of this gorgeous song, with hot beverages and cookies provided for your enjoyment. We’ll share some conversation, slip some headphones on you, and press play. Please email for more information about finding a time to come over for a special listening session.

Ouch.

Whether Mr. Duffy assumed that anyone who could appreciate Sufjan's artful chamber-folk orchestrations must necessarily live in Brooklyn or simply did not give a damn about the legions of unwashed urchins who didn't, this was not widely received in the quaint spirit with which it was proposed. Needless to say, the spurned masses have found in Mr. Duffy an outlet for their Sufjan-withdrawal angst–and an opportunity to nudge the term "douchebaggery" closer to formal nounhood.

For a more detailed version of this story, check out Eric Molinsky's piece for Studio 360.

Sufjan, by the way, has been in the studio–just not for himself. He just got done producing the debut album of The Welcome Wagon, a Brooklyn-area reverend and his wife, and has been backing them up on banjo.