Before you go to the Emma Feel show, you should probably pull on your tightest black jeans. And don’t bother washing off the come stains. After all, these KC sludgepunk-funk purveyors are working on a level that is decidedly down-and-dirty. If you’ve ever been unsure whether you really wanted Iggy Pop or David Yow’s pants to come off, whether Curtis Mayfield was too funky for you, or whether you really should have taken that last shot of Jack, you’re not there yet. Try lying in the gutter outside Davey’s for a while, drinking Coors Light and trying to break bottles against your pelvic bones. Then re-enter the venue; but this time, don’t walk, stomp. Then maybe you can get that Emma Feel.