Charm City is a mystical dustbin, in a constant state of flux — you need only look as far as this past weekend to prove it.

“Playthings,” an exhibition curated by Stefani Levin (her first) opened last Thursday, at the Metro Gallery. Some of the folks involved in this show have shared bathrooms with me; thus I cannot speak of them. Most of the pieces in the show attempt to focus a lens on the perception of toys as a means by which to manipulate play time as a vehicle for cultural semiotics. Alex Worthington’s Artisan Shoppe, a miniaturized mock storefront aesthetically falling somewhere between Forever Twenty One and Baskin-Robbins, makes a rather un-cryptic nexus between the toxicity of literally consuming junk and buying it to achieve an ephemeral state of gratification (i.e. edible Chanel accessories).

Dammit, now I really want that boob job!

Ben Fino-Radin offers what seems to be a digital Mario Bros. hand flipping me the bird, perhaps opening up a visual dialog where 9-year-old anarchists find a vestige of empowerment in the courageous act of gorging themselves with hot pockets and finding warp zones. Am I getting warm?

Giuliana Pinto’s 7-foot-tall piece smartly blurs the line between a treehouse and creepy death trap. She offers us a nondecadent cork-board castle with dark window-like openings blowing cold air. It has an immediacy that sparks a recollection of the twisted luxurious dreamland where all of us messed-up kids dwelt at one time or another. Plaything will be on display until June 7 at the Metro Gallery, 1700 N. Charles St. It’s definitely worth a gander.

Friday offered various warehouse shows and club events in Baltimore, yet for some glorious reason I found myself at The Club Phoenix (1 W. Biddle St.) with DJ John on the turntable. At first I kind of felt like Sean Penn in the movie “U Turn,” stranger in a strange land, yet the night proved to be fruitful. After a few half-butt attempts to dance, I went outside to have a smoke, when what did I hear? Why, it was They Might Be Giants! I ran back in there like a sailor on shore leave and testified amongst other nerd comrades of various ages, genders, and sexual orientations. The alcohol-soaked night continued with other guilty pleasures like, B-52’s “Roam” and lots of Morrissey, with a little Psychedelic Furs to boot. Come on, you love it! It’s all the stuff that you actually want to dance to when you’re pretending to be interested at some noise show. It was a room full of strangers not giving a crap about being hip, and having a damn good time in the process. What’s crazy is that it’s FREE! Here is my advice: Go. DJ John works his magic the second and fourth Friday of every month.

On Sunday I went to another great free show at Joe Squared (133 W. North Ave). I was treated to Baltimore’s Thrust Lab, an instrumental three-piece band (drum/bass and synthesizer) that pumps out relentless twisting bass, with a backbeat that could make Stewart Copeland blush. The art/noise keyboard flicks make it a certified Baltimore band, but it’s the epic build-ups and complex interludes that leave you coming back for more. Catch ‘em when you can.

After downing some economically priced fries, and soda, I was again redeemed of my walk in the rain by yet another un-sung Charm City gem, Claire Huxtable (named after America’s favorite mom). They are a two-piece group that sounds something like Outkast-meets-Bobby Brown-meets Prince on No Doz. “Symbol” and “DLake” synchronize with hip-hop dance moves alternating on the mic, throwing down immaculate R&B vocals, all while amping up the crowd with their mix of purposely absurd interpretations of M.I.A. and shockingly infectious originals. They have no confirmed shows listed currently, but when they do, drop whatever you’re doing.

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