Enuff Z'Nuff, Pretty Boy Floyd, The Throbs

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The week between Christmas and New Year's has no shape to it. Work is theoretical, the leftovers are on their fourth appearance, and somewhere in a closet there is a shoebox of ticket stubs from when you were seventeen and the Sunset Strip was the center of the known world. Nobody in your house wants to hear about it again. Here is a room full of people who want to hear about nothing else. Three bands who were actually on that Strip when it meant something, stacked on one bill on a Monday night, in the club where most of it happened. Enuff Z'Nuff still play the Chicago power-pop that got them filed under hairspray for thirty-five years. Pretty Boy Floyd have never once apologized. The Throbs open. What the regulars know: the floor here is small enough that the stage monitors bleed straight into the crowd, so you end up hearing the show roughly the way the singer hears it. Doors swing at six on Monday the 28th; the room is upstairs off the Strip.