GHOST ANIMAL, PRESCRIPTION PILLS, HAUSU, PERIOD ROMANCE
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Read our article on Ghost Animal.


KATHRYN CALDER, THE DIMES, HIMALAYAN BEAR
(Mission Theater, 1624 NW Glisan) Victoria, British Columbia's Kathryn Calder is one of the many links in the chain of Canadian power pop that is the New Pornographers—she's the niece of Carl Newman, and has been a member of the band since 2005—and her first solo album Are You My Mother? comes after her 2008 departure from another Victoria band, Immaculate Machine. Mother? was written and recorded as Calder's mother succumbed to Lou Gehrig's disease, but it's not a gloomy wake of a record. Rather, it's a collection of pleasant, girly, sorrowful pop; it stands up against the many fine records in the growing New Pornographers galaxy. Considering her peers are Destroyer, Neko Case, and Newman's own (vastly underrated) solo work, that's no small thing. NED LANNAMANN


MAN MAN, SHILPA RAY AND HER HAPPY HOOKERS
(Wonder Ballroom, 128 NE Russell) Philadelphia's Man Man have become gradually more refined over the last eight years or so, but their early shows were riotous affairs involving much instrument swapping, white tennis outfits, acrobatic percussion feats, and intricate, goofy vocal interplay. It was kind of like watching a band of Tom Waitses trying their hands at no wave and klezmer music while lit on rum. Man Man's new album, Life Fantastic, somewhat reins in the weirdness and manic energy, though you can still hear residual quirks in their boisterous pop songs—as well as an occasional reliance on sentimentality in the melodies. Still, expect dazzlement onstage. New York's Shilpa Ray and Her Happy Hookers rock hard, tunefully and noisily, sometimes coloring outside of the lines to unpredictable, psychedelic effect. DAVE SEGAL


THE GREENHORNES, JEFF THE BROTHERHOOD, THE NIGHT BEATS,
THE ANGRY ORTS

(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) Certified badasses Jeff the Brotherhood are makers of high-octane riffs and turbo-charged beats that muscle cars were designed for rallying to on the open road. What's most shocking is how much sound the Nashville duo can get out of their barebones setup. But this band of brothers, Jake and Jamin Orrall, make the most out of their finite components (a three-stringed guitar and three-piece kit), sounding like a beefed-up V8 engine that's really a four-cylinder underneath the hood. Their songs, found on their excellent 2009 debut LP Heavy Days, and the just released We Are the Champions (as well as a slew of highly-coveted OOP 7-inch singles), are grungy, raw, and uncompromisingly psychedelic, with powerful melodies that swirl around the brain for days on end and rock ascensions that strap in and floor it, leaving you sitting idle in the place where their trail of burning rubber and asphalt meet. TRAVIS RITTER



MIDNIGHT, SAVIOURS, LIGHTNING SWORDS OF DEATH, ARCHONS
(Plan B, 1305 SE 8th) Cleveland's Midnight takes the metallic rock and roll from the likes of MotÖrhead and Saxon and puts it through a Venom filter. When it comes out the other end, it's dripping satanic ectoplasm and it's trying to put its hand up your girlfriend's skirt. Since Midnight's first release in 2003, the band's trademark sound has remained raw and rancid, consistently depraved, and with production that is equally as rotten. Songs from their self-titled debut EP to 2009's Berlin Is Burning are virtually interchangeable. They started simple and filthy not because they had shitty equipment and no money, but because that was the plan. Odds are Midnight will stay that way until they crawl back into the grave they came from. ARIS WALES


HAYES CARLL, QUIET LIFE
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Country singer Hayes Carll has carved himself out quite a niche as a rough-and-tumble guitar-toting troublemaker. Now that Steve Earle has forwarded his subscription of Mother Jones to his place out in the 'burbs, the Guitar Town sound now belongs to the husky rasp of Carll. The Texas singer's latest is KMAG YOYO (or, "Kiss My Ass Guys, You're on Your Own," for those unfamiliar with military acronyms), which wastes little time establishing Carll as a roots-rock heavyweight, as he joyfully boasts "I'm like James Brown/Only white and taller/All I wanna do is stomp and holler" on opening track "Stomp and Holler." But it's not all bravado and swagger with Carll, as his twang-heavy ballads have the tendency to water down drinks with fallen tears. You might want to order another round, just in case you "get something in your eye." EZRA ACE CARAEFF