Picks

WEDNESDAYAUGUST 18

THE WIDE WIDE WORLD OF SURF REALITY

Until its untimely demise at the hands of greedy landlords, Surf Reality was one of the coolest, cheapest and most anti-commercial performance-space lofts in town. Roughly two years later, they're still searching for a new home. Meanwhile, you can get a taste of their trademark performance comedy for one night during the Howl! Festival inside P.S. 122. Afterwards, spill out onto Ave. A, where plenty of surprises are planned by entertaining wack-jobs like Faceboy, former New York Presser Girlbomb (she's like Janeane Garofalo, only funny), Zero Boy (the world's loudest mime) and more. 150 1st Ave. (9th St.) 212-477-5288; 7, $10.

THURSDAYAUGUST 19

PICTURE THIS: THE MANY FACES OF BLONDIE

That's what people always forget-Blondie really did have many faces! When we visualize Blondie, all we see are those five dudes. But now that we think about it, there was someone else, right? We can't remember her name or what she looked like, but hopefully this new book of photography from photographer Mick Rock can finally shift the focus, if only for a little while, to that mystery woman (lead vocals, maybe?) that was in Blondie all those years. Even if she ends up not being as photogenic as the rest of the band, we'd just like to finally put a face with that voice. Mick will be at the Barnes & Noble in Chelsea tonight; hopefully he'll know who we're talking about. 675 6th Ave. (21st St.); 7, free.

BURNING BRIDES

Ex-Soundgardener Chris Cornell has called Philadelphia's Burning Brides "the saviors of power trios." This from the guy who had the awful sense to form Audioslave-the alt-grunge-metal supergroup that opened the door for Velvet Revolver and other ex-grunge bozos and 80s hair-hacks to come climbing through. But we digress. Philly's Burning Brides-boytoy singer/guitarist Dimitri Coats, girlfriend/bassist Melanie Campbell and several drummers since their 1999 start-have made some pretty aggressive, blowsy, blustery noises, first, for the hallowed File 13 label with Fall of the Plastic Empire, then their new major label slab, Leave No Ashes. Apart from the fact that Black Crowes' producer George Drakoulias gave their newer CD a thick alt-sheen and yanked some of the hammy theatricality from their arrangements, theirs is still a pressure-packed, raw-powered roar that makes three guys sound bigger and looser than six. With the Explosion, the Rolling Blackouts. Bowery Ballroom, 6 Delancey St., (betw. Bowery & Chrystie St.), 212-533-2111; 9, $14.

BRAND NUBIAN

Between Boogie Down Productions' Criminally Minded and Public Enemy's It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back, Grand Puba, Lord Jamar, Alamo and Sadat X-the Five Percenters of Brand Nubian-created lyrical consciousness without violence, with music more sweetly kissed than its lyrics were aggressive. They were holy rolling, but never preachy. They were dedicated to Islam but never wore the bow ties. Atop the smoothly curving melodies of their 1990 Elektra-label debut One for All, they laid down positivist, demanding, non-gangsta vibes for songs that quoted the writings of Elijah Muhammad. It's a shame Puba didn't stick around after that CD, what with his gruff voice following a solo career whose Jama-dancehall grooves predated the entirety of the Sean-Paul/Beanie Man dance-hop groove by a decade. Still, their second CD, In God We Trust, was choice. Now the original unit-with Grand Puba in the driving seat-has reunited for Fire in the Hole. It's a less religious LP whose brimstone is replaced with righteous indignation and cockeyed optimism geared toward survival. With Brother Ali. B.B. King's Blues Club, 237 W. 42nd St., 212-997-4144 (betw. 7th & 8th Aves.); 8, $15.

FRIDAYAUGUST 20

FOUND FOOTAGE FESTIVAL

Somewhere between America's Funniest Home Videos and Capturing the Friedmans lie the 99 percent of home movies you've never seen: birthday parties, holidays and family vacations where nothing particularly noteworthy happens. Often what is noteworthy is invisible to the people involved. Snagged from thrift stores, dumpsters and stoop sales around the city, the old, discarded home movies being shown tonight at Cinema Classics are a treasure trove of American mores and secrets. And sometimes they're just plain odd. Pieced together for maximum effect, these found movies are always a surprise. And who knows? You might even see yourself in one. 332 E. 11th St. (betw. 1st & 2nd Aves.), 212-677-1027; 8, $6.

NELLY AT BRYANT PARK

Pour yourself some Kix and a tall glass of pimp juice, because any MC can rock a party till the break of dawn, but few can actually start it up that early. Good Morning America's about to show the nation's housewives how the band-aided one gets down at dawn, and you're invited to show up live if you happen to be either in the area or fucking nuts. Bryant Park, 6th Ave. (betw. 40th & 42nd Sts.), 212-580-5176; 7 a.m., free.

CHAPPELLE'S SHOW'S CHARLIE MURPHY

Fresh off killing Rick James in his sleep, Charlie Murphy headlines a night of comedy at Caroline's. Murphy rose to unexpected fame this year with insane recreations of past confrontations with Rick James and basketball games against Prince and the Revolution. Castmates Bill Burr and Donnell Rawlings will join 2004's favorite member of the Murphy family (sorry Eddie, we don't do Shrek), and we've got a feeling these guys can rock the block in an older-school way when the sensors aren't watching. 1626 B'way (betw. 49th & 50th Sts.), 212-757-4100, 8, $24.50-$28.50 & 2 drink min.

SATURDAYAUGUST 21

BODY COUNT, FEATURING ICE T

Long before becoming a chubby cop with man-teats on one of several Law & Orders, Ice T was a rapper of raw renown, with a clenched-teeth voice whose audible snarl delivered detailed operas of neighborhood violence and politicized rhetoric. The voice was impressive. Is impressive. It's a shame to hear him wasting that gift on lunk-headed cop dialogue. It so rolls with the best of his music, like the entirety of his third album, 1989's The Iceberg/Freedom of Speech...Just Watch What You Say. Across Iceberg (in dedication to Iceberg Slim, the pimp/poet that birthed his rap moniker) you can sense the all-at-once abrasiveness of T's music, voice and anti-everything (mostly censorship) lyrics tearing at your inner ear. Body Count will roar. We can't help thinking that fifteen years ago, this show would've stopped traffic. Knitting Factory, 74 Leonard St. (betw. Chruch St. & B'way), 212-219-3132; 11:30, $18, $15 adv.

THE END OF THE LINE

A downtown trip on the E train turns into the subway ride from hell, uniting two total strangers in an effort to avoid crazed teenagers, escaped frogs, large dogs and worse. The End of the Line, written by Jessica Hammer and directed by Brian Soliwoda, is by turns compassionate and brusquely funny, revealing the bruised souls behind the diffident straphangers of the New York City subway. Loosely based on the biblical 10 plagues, this installment of the NYC Fringe Festival is a bracing reminder of New Yorkers' shared destinies. In the words of one of the show's characters, "Hey, I figure we're all in this together." The Next Stage, 312 W. 11th St. (betw. Greenwich & Hudson Sts.), 212-279-4488; 9, $15.

HAUNTED PUSSY

Afraid of dead people? What about ear-bending, histrionic fear-metal? Genre-murdering longhairs in pink tights? Or maybe the idea of following a breadcrumb path to a free show in a cemetery just makes you reach shakily for the tea pot? Stop worrying. Starting at midnight and playing until the Hour of the Wolf, tonight Haunted Pussy rocks the empty grounds of the little cemetery just south of the Williamsburg Bridge. Take the F train to Delancey, walk down Delancey St. to the East River Park just south of the Williamsburg Bridge, then walk south and take your first left. Go straight and look for the tombstones. If you get lost, just stand still and listen. 12 a.m., free.

SUNDAYAUGUST 22

CRIMES OF OLD NEW YORK

There was a time in this town when Death Wish could've been mistaken for a documentary, when Jeff Goldblum and his cronies could have broken into your apartment at any moment, sodomized your daughter and spraypainted her butt for good measure when they were done tagging up the walls. Those who remember this age of violence, panic and wooden supermarket conveyor belts might be interested to know that, apparently, the 70s didn't have anything on the 1870s, as explained by the latest walking tour from Street Smarts NY. Where was the city's first murder committed? Did Jack the Ripper ever roam the Rotten Apple? We think the answers are Pearl St. and No, but if you'd like to hear about it in an outdoor setting, meet at the Museum of the American Indian. Unless they mean Jack the Ripper, King Hercules, aka Ladies Love Cool James. He most definitely walked our streets. 1 Bowling Green (betw. State & Whitehall Sts.), 212-969-8262; 2, $10.

MONDAYAUGUST 23

PUNK ROCK HEAVY METAL KARAOKE

Anyone requesting Prince or Madonna will be asked to leave. We're talking Slayer, not Celine Dion; the Descendents, not the Doors. This is hardcore karaoke with a puke splat on the screen. It may even permanently erase that Lost in Translation karaoke scene from your memory. Arlene's Grocery, 95 Stanton St. (betw. Ludlow & Orchard Sts.), 212-358-1633; 10, free.

DAVID GONZALEZ

Before he came home to chronicle New York's Latino communities, David Gonzalez was Central America bureau chief for the Times. Tonight the veteran Timesman holds forth on the state of U.S./Latin American relations. Is he down with a 51st state? Is Hugo Chavez as bad as the U.S. State Dept. would have us believe? Bring your questions; Gonzalez is known for straight answers. St. Agnes Library, 444 Amsterdam Ave. (81st St.) res. req., 212-877-4380; 6, free.

TUESDAYAUGUST 24

FIST OF LEGEND

Thanks to TNT, you can watch Jet Li on tv almost every night in Romeo Must Die, but we wouldn't recommend it, because the ever-so-thin suspense doesn't survive all those commercial breaks. Plus, there's simply not enough Delroy Lindo. There never is. It's odd, because when Li is thrown into a romantic subplot with the beautiful Aaliyah, there couldn't be less chemistry, yet when co-starring with DMX in Cradle 2 the Grave, you'd think the guys were soulmates who met in prison. We never saw Kiss of the Dragon with Bridget Fonda, so we couldn't say whether there are any sparks between Li and La Fake Femme Nikita. We're just throwing this out there; do with it what you wish. Instead of the TNT crap, head for the American Museum of the Moving Image, where Fist of Legend (1994) will be screening as part of their Jet Li tribute series. Fist of Legend marks Li's turn as legendary Chinese folk hero, Chen Zhen, some 20 years after Bruce Lee's famous Chen portrayal in Fist of Fury. 35 Ave. (36 St.), Astoria, 718-784-0077; 7, $10, $7.50 st./s.c.

Contributors: A.D. Amorosi, Saul Austerlitz, Priya Jain, Jim Knipfel, Dan Migdal and Alexander Zaitchik