jigitz brings a 360 set to the Egyptian Room, posting up in the center so the crowd wraps around the decks. The producer-DJ runs on big, hooky edits and glossy pop textures, sliding from house and club rap into newer hyperpop touches without losing the groove. It is a late start at 9 p.m., which suits the high-energy pacing and quick mixes that keep the floor moving in every direction.

Old National Centre's Egyptian Room is the big GA hall in the Murat complex, with a broad floor, high ceilings, and sightlines that stay clear even when it fills in. Bass hits hard up front, a little rounder by the back bar, and the risers give a welcome perch if you want a breather. Doors at 8 p.m., and the staff moves lines quickly once security opens.

Billy Strings brings his arena-sized bluegrass to Fishers for a 7:30 p.m. start, no opener. The Grammy winner has turned flatpicking fireworks into expansive, psychedelic-leaning jams, stretching traditional tunes beside originals that breathe like long-form rock. He moves from whisper-quiet dynamics to full sprint in a bar or two, and the band follows every feint with lockstep precision.

Fishers Event Center is the shiny new arena on the northeast side, built for big crowds with clean sightlines from the bowl and a floor that stays comfortable even when the house is full. Parking is straightforward, entry is quick, and the in-house mix handles acoustic groups surprisingly well for a room this size.

Two nights of Billy Strings is where the songbook opens wide. The 2-day ticket covers both Friday and Saturday, with shifting setlists that pull from high-speed traditionals, deep-cut originals, and the odd left-field cover. The band’s telepathy thrives across back-to-back shows, giving Saturday’s 7:30 p.m. start a different feel and fresh runs at the big jams.

At Fishers Event Center, a weekend stand settles in nicely. The concourses keep traffic moving between sets, concessions are efficient, and the bowl design means every section still feels close to the stage. Plan a few extra minutes at entry and you will be inside without stress for night two.

The Growlers head into Deluxe with their scrappy beach goth in tow, all surf-leaning guitars, reverb haze, and Brooks Nielsen’s deadpan croon up front. They blend garage looseness with sun-baked hooks, swinging from dancey chugs to woozy slow burns in a blink. The club-sized room favors their rough-around-the-edges charm and turns those shuffles into a full-body sway.

Deluxe at Old National Centre is the intimate side room in the Murat complex, a narrow GA space with a low ceiling, brick, and a bar along the wall. It puts you close to the stage and magnifies groove-heavy bands. The sound is punchy without getting harsh, and the sightlines hold up even if you slide toward the back.

Bobby Lee brings The Finally Tour to the Egyptian Room for a 7 p.m. show, riffing with the chaotic charm fans know from MADtv and his podcast. His stand-up leans into oddball stories, left-turn tags, and interactive tangents that feel improvised but hit clean. He plays loose and personable, bouncing from absurd childhood bits to razor-sharp observations in seconds.

The Egyptian Room adapts well for stand-up, with a leveled floor plan, clear sightlines, and a mix that keeps the voice crisp across the hall. Staff is dialed on theater-mode shows, so seating flows quickly and the room settles into a focused hush once lights drop. It is a comfortable place to catch a national comic without losing the club feel.

Butler University’s Out of the Dawg House brings their lower-voice a cappella set to an early 6 p.m. curtain, stacking tight harmonies, clean leads, and crisp vocal percussion. The group moves comfortably from classic pop to newer radio cuts, arranging with enough flair to keep the musicality front and center. It is a spirited, polished student show with real vocal power.

The Howard L. Schrott Center sits on Butler’s campus as a modern, intimate hall with warm acoustics and excellent sightlines from every seat. It is designed for unamplified voices and chamber groups, which makes a cappella land with clarity and depth. Easy parking and a calm lobby make arrivals smooth, even on busy campus nights.

They Might Be Giants wrap a three-night run at The Vogue with their singular mix of hooky art-pop and brainy rock, led by John Flansburgh and John Linnell. The full band swings from accordion-driven singalongs to jagged guitar burners, dusting off deep cuts beside the staples. Smart, funny, and tight, they make career surveys feel light on their feet.

The Vogue in Broad Ripple is the city’s classic 21-plus room, a former cinema turned club with a wide floor, balcony rails, and a tuned-in staff that keeps nights smooth. Sightlines are strong from almost anywhere, the mix is clear, and the neighborhood’s bars spill the buzz onto the block before and after the show.

The residency continues Sunday as They Might Be Giants settle into the room that fits them best, a full-band setup that lets the two Johns’ harmonies, deadpan banter, and nimble arrangements shine. It is a career-spanning pull with refreshed takes that keep long-timers engaged while welcoming newer fans into the fold.

Vogue Theatre in Broad Ripple is the same beloved room, a 21-plus space with a roomy floor, low stage sightlines that stay clear, and a balcony that feels close to the action. The sound crew knows how to balance dense arrangements, and the neighborhood makes pre- and post-show hangs effortless.

Supertask brings his downtempo, melodic-bass world to Turntable for an 18-plus night, building moody, narrative arcs out of meticulous sound design and head-nod grooves. He shifts between glitchy textures and widescreen melodies without breaking the pocket. TF Marz sets the tone early, warming the room with low-end that reads clean on a proper system.

Turntable is an intimate, DJ-forward room with a focused dance floor, low ceiling, and a system tuned for detail as much as impact. It runs late, the booth sits close to the crowd, and lighting keeps things immersive without blinding the space. It is the kind of spot where producers can stretch and the subtleties actually land.

Snarky Puppy brings the big band brain trust to the Palladium at 8 p.m., a rotating collective led by bassist Michael League that folds jazz, funk, and global rhythms into tight compositions and open-ended solos. The ensemble breathes as one, carving polyrhythms and layered harmonies with road-tested clarity and a groove that never loses the thread.

The Palladium in Carmel is the region’s crown jewel concert hall, a seated room with superb acoustics that flatter dynamics and detail. You hear every counterline and cymbal shimmer, and the stage feels close even in the upper sections. It is a polished night out without killing the spontaneity of a band built to stretch.