Donavon Frankenreiter 

8 p.m. Friday, December 8. The Pageant (6161 Delmar Boulevard).

There's something sleazy and slack-ass about pro-surfer-turned-LA-rock-revivalist Donavon Frankenreiter. If he were any more laid-back, he'd have second degree burns from perpetually passing out on the same Maui shores where he shot the tube with dude-bud-man Jack Johnson. But Frankenreiter's so committed to the philosophy of feeling good, he might convince you that strolling, meditating and fucking on the beach are, in fact, the apex of human existence. His Lost Highway debut, Move By Yourself, is about as good as chill-out music gets: Frankenreiter injects his stoned sway with blaxploitation strings and wacka-wang guitar strum, Southern-soul electric piano, and some heavy Santana riffage. The superstitious Stevie Wonder called and wants his clavinet groove back — only he hasn't touched such slinky funk in years, so Frankenreiter is keeping it.

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