OTBKB is giving away two pairs of tickets to Danya Kurtz’s show at Union Hall on January 9th and 10th. That’s next Tuesday and Wednesday night.

Here are the rules. You must email me at louise_crawford@yahoo.com. You must give me the best reason why I should give the tickets to you (which I will post on OTBKB). You must really be able to go to the show. You must write me and tell me about it.

Danya Kurtz is a local singer/songwriter with a huge following in Europe. Here’s a review of her recent album, Another Black Feather, in the Boston Globe.

A guitar lazily strums, and a clarinet blows mournful circles in anticipation of the coming squall. A personal prayer for healing turns into a bitter call for vengeance against the gods of war on “It’s the Day of Atonement, 2001,” the centerpiece of Dayna Kurtz’s often-magnificent fourth album, “Another Black Feather,” and a funeral breaks out at a singer-songwriter’s convention. The coolly mournful klezmer sound, the squawking clarinet contrasted with the gentler trumpet tones, is deliciously out of place here, an outbreak of Eastern European tristesse for Kurtz’s fusion of the personal and the political. Nothing on “Another Black Feather,” out Tuesday, is quite as magical as Kurtz’s Yom Kippur invocation, but songs like “Nola” and “Banks of the Edisto” betray a knack for melody matched and complemented by her husky, nearly masculine voice. Kurtz is a confirmed New Yorker, but her songs are homesick for foreign climes: New Orleans (pre-Katrina) in “Nola,” which she imagines as a refuge for tired souls; a fond daydream of “Venezuela” (which she describes as “look(ing) like Brooklyn”; and the touching tribute to a banjo-picking friend on “Banks of the Edisto.” Surprisingly, for a performer whose previous album (“Beautiful Yesterday”) was composed entirely of covers, Kurtz’s own songs — textured, deeply melodious, with a slide-guitar underpinning reminiscent of Lucinda Williams and Chris Whitley — overshadow the covers here, of Johnny Cash’s “All Over Again” and Bill Withers’s “Hope She’ll Be Happier.” Kurtz’s own songs, unassuming at first listen, burrow under your skin, tiny nodules of melody and stray lyrics refusing to let go before receiving a blessing of approval.