POP MUSIC REVIEWS : A Dose of Anguish From Red House Painters

When a prominent pop figure starts touting an unknown act, it’s usually a less accessible, uncompromised version of the prominent pop figure--something they would like to be if they didn’t have the attributes that made them prominent, like ambition or approachability.

So when you hear that the Red House Painters are the favorite band of the American Music Club’s poet of despair Mark Eitzel, whose support led to their record deal with arty mood-music label 4AD, you can pretty much count on a near-lethal dose of anguished confession.

The Red House Painters’ records (including the upcoming second album) can provide fine company for those late nights of the soul, when you need something that speaks to you from a place of deep solitude and pain. But the fetal position is the appropriate posture for the experience, not standing on the dance floor at the Roxy, where the San Francisco group played on Friday.

Leader Mark Kozelek was an intense and focused figure as he channeled his ache into a powerful, bellowing croon. Guitar, bass and drums tapped out moody, minimalist settings at a dirge-like pace that rarely varied. The passions and pains remained private, and the performance was soporific rather than hypnotic. Give the Painters points for integrity, and put the records on the emergency shelf next to Nick Drake, Leonard Cohen and, sure, the American Music Club.

Second-billed Heidi Berry is in the tradition of artful English folk singers such as Sandy Denny, and her set had moments of gorgeous expression. It was also fairly austere and solemn, but after a taste of the Painters, she seemed like Bette Midler.