Better than: Dancing about architecture.

One had to assume that Nika Roza Danilova would make it into a museum sooner or later. A classically trained opera singer, she released her first album under the moniker Zola Jesus while studying French philosophy at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. Her songs pair soaring, direct vocals with drum machines and ominous vibes. 2011's Conatus is mysterious while offering a direct line to a powerful emotional core. And at the Guggenheim last night, she showed up wearing a boa made out of swirling lights, glowing around her neck.

Zola Jesus was here as the third and final act in "Divine Ricochet," a series of live music meant to accompany the abstract expressionist sculpture of John Chamberlain. Made out of American cars in the '50s and '60s, Chamberlain's sculptures are metallic clashes, violent re-arrangements of things regularly taken for granted, so it made sense that for performance, Zola Jesus would combine a variety of sounds. "Gimmick" isn't quite the right word, but shows at nontraditional venues, like the Guggenheim, have a tendency to bring out the experimental side in everyone, which is probably what made her want to collaborate with industrial composer J.G Thirlwell and the Mivos Quartet.

@mcflashdance/Instagram

Better than: Most of the 21st century.

It took 15 years, but Refused is ready to forgive. The first injustice came when people ignored their second release, Songs To Fan The Flames Of Discontent. Refused followed that up by mocking its fans' lack of daring with The Shape of Punk To Come, which had an anything-goes mentality about it—jazz? Sure. Rave-worthy electronica? Go for it. Rambling spoken word? Why not? The guitars are relentless and lead singer Dennis Lyxzen provides rabid, anarcho-Communist lyrics by the bucketload, but more importantly, Shape was an attempt to musically represent the open-ended punk DIY ethos: As long as it makes your head bang, it's probably all right. But Refused still kind of hated its fanbase, and the members definitely hated each other, so they broke up in 1998, right as Shape of Punk started to get noticed. Their legend grew, and despite continued promises not to reunite, the Swedish hardcore act is now riding the wave of its 20th-century success.

The packed crowd at Terminal 5 was ready—but first everyone would have to get through Ceremony's set alive.

Better than: A dive-bar jukebox stuffed with the hits of The Shirelles and The Thompson Twins.

There are a thousand ways for an up-and-coming band to raise their profile these days, and it's safe to say that The Suzan are familiar with at least a couple hundred of them. They've caught the ear of an already-established act (Peter, Bjorn, and John in this case), signed to a high-profile label (the first rock act on Fool's Gold), and had their music get on national TV (shilling for large corporation in an ad, Verizon and the NFL). Having a solid debut, 2010's Golden Week For The Poco Poco Beat, doesn't hurt, either; its sly take on rock gives a "big sound" feel to the clever hooks of early Violent Femmes.

But they're not averse to taking the old-fashioned approach—playing New York City as many times as possible, and with any band that'll have them on a bill—to building their name, either. The Suzan hardly go a week without playing somewhere in the city, and often schedule several shows throughout the five boroughs over a seven-day span.