Shades Mountain Air featuring Glenn Tolbert
Shades Mountain Air is a local bluegrass/gospel combo led by Gary Furr, pastor of Vestavia Hills Baptist Church and a former guitar student of local bluegrass picker Glenn Tolbert. The group will be joined by Tolbert for an evening of bluegrass standards and mournful gospel favorites. Tolbert, who currently teaches guitar to employees at U.S. Steel in Fairfield, is looking forward to performing some of the more tragic sacred tunes. Anyone who has heard him sing can testify that Tolbert’s nasal tenor is tailor-made for such distressingly hopeless songs. He’s particularly fond of a funeral number called “Who Will Sing for Me?,” a lonely lament that prompts Tolbert to reflect on his many years of performing, and, ultimately, the day he is laid to rest. He’s so moved by the lyrics he can’t resist reciting a verse during a recent telephone conversation: “Oft I sing for my friends, when death’s cold hand I see. When I reach my journey’s end, who will sing one song for me? When crowds gather round and look down on me, will they turn and walk away? Or will they sing just one song for me?” (Tuesday, March 30, Moonlight Music Café, 8 p.m. $8.) —Ed ReynoldsThe Marshall Tucker Band
No band better epitomized Southern rock during the late 1970s than The Marshall Tucker Band. It was the era of the “extended jam,” when the most endearing route to an audience’s heart was an eternal guitar solo, song after song. Marshall Tucker’s contribution to the genre was the lightning fast, bare-picking thumb of guitarist Toy Caldwell, who soared through jazzed-up country leads that seemed to go on forever. Caldwell doesn’t play those long solos anymore because he’s dead, just like his brother Tommy, with whom he started the group in 1972. Singer Doug Gray is the lone original member remaining in the band. His belting vocals will no doubt create nostalgia for those nights when Tucker classics like “Can’t You See,” “Take the Highway,” “Fire on the Mountain,” and “24 Hours at a Time” filled Boutwell Auditorium’s rafters, right along with the aroma of dope. (Friday, April 2, The Yellow Rose. $15.) —E.R.

Lonestar/Jimmy Wayne
We’re coming up on 10 years of Lonestar, meaning that they’ve outlasted their contemporaries in *NSync. They were much cuter back when they all dressed like the Cowboy from the Village People, though. Sometimes, you should just ignore Q”ueer Eye for the Straight Guy”‘s Carson Kressley. So, let’s see . . . boy band comparison, made fun of their clothes . . . oh, yeah, they actually remade Marc Cohn’s “Walking in Memphis” into the kind of manly street version that made Cher’s version sound, in comparison, like it was sung by Bob Dylan.

But, of course, Lonestar’s greatest sin is that they give guys such as Steve Earle and Elvis Costello the chance to bitch and whine about the country scene. But those guys are just envious that they’re not as handsome as opening act Jimmy Wayne, who believes his rough childhood allows him to sound really manly as he pleads with you to love him. (Friday, April 2, Alabama Theatre, 8 p.m. $39.50.) —J.R. Taylor

	The Marshall Tucker Band (click for larger version)

Slipknot/Fear Factory
I prefer bands patterned after the film 2000 Maniacs rather than Neon Maniacs, but you can’t help what those suburban kids once stumbled across on cable back in the early-’90s. At least it’s easy to believe that the members of Slipknot could also be killed by water. They bring some nice hooks to their plundering of death metal. And you have to go see them live, because you’ll feel stupid cranking them up in your car stereo anytime before 3 a.m.

Fear Factory, however, is an unjustly overlooked act that probably gave Slipknot the idea of toning down the ambition and upping the wardrobe. They’re (mostly) back after a very short break-up, more than likely spurred by the realization that few musicians share their commitment to finding beauty among the “possessed demon” vocal sound of which death metal bands are so fond. (Friday, April 2, Sloss Furnaces, 7:30 p.m. $29.50) —J.R. Taylor

Amy Rigby
Nobody had a bigger audience to tap than Amy Rigby in the mid-’90s, as her albums Diary of a Mod Housewife and Middlescence examined the plight of aging hipsters torn between the lure of traditional happiness and the restraints of a fabulous lifestyle. The suddenly single mom didn’t have to revamp her style, either, since she’d spent the ’80s as a pioneering urban-country popster. Rigby simply had to grow into the shambles that she once adored. A move to Nashville, however, has reduced her to being great only on every third song. Until the Wheels Fall Off managed to be one of last year’s best albums, but she’s clearly outgrown the Americana handbook. Rigby is still underrated as a vocalist, though, and her sharp wordplay remains more honest than clever. (Saturday, April 3, Moonlight Music Cafe, 8 p.m. $10.) —J.R. Taylor

Emerson Hart (of Tonic)
Well, the billing is certainly a good way to teach people the name of the lead singer of Tonic. That band was so faceless that nobody even noticed when they attempted a big sell-out with their Head On Straight album in 2002. Emerson Hart had already relocated to Nashville, too, which is usually a move made by songwriters who age more gracefully—like, you know, Seals & Crofts. Anyway, Tonic is still a band, and remain best known for forgettable ballads that bask in big rock settings. Those songs touched many people, and $5 is certainly a reasonable price to hear how those tunes sound better in stripped-down versions. (Tuesday, April 6, The Nick, 8 p.m. $5.) —J.R. Taylor

Kate Campbell
Her narrow view of the South guides Kate Campbell’s assurances that you are truly, truly stupid—unless, of course, you’re in her audience, in which case you are assured that you’re nearly as fabulous as Kate Campbell. Why, you can even watch her marvel at just how pathetic people are with their miserable little dreams. This former Samford University student doesn’t like how Birmingham looks, either, but who cares? Campbell’s the kind of woman who’ll show up in your living room and complain about how your Bible isn’t dusty enough. One of her recent lousy albums is called Monuments, and has tombstones for sale on the cover. (Thursday, April 8, Workplay, 8 p.m. $20.) —J.R. Taylor &