(Plan B, 1305 SE 8th) Following a rampage that's seen them bring thunder across the continent, Eugene doom-metallers YOB stop in for a special show at intimate Southeast bar Plan B, a fitting end to their mammoth tour and a great chance to hear material from their brand-new album, Atma, due out August 16. NED LANNAMANN


(The Woods, 6637 SE Milwaukie) While most of us spend our birthdays sobbing uncontrollably into our Arby-Q sandwiches as the cars behind us in the drive-thru honk incessantly, Laura Gibson has something more joyful planned for her big day. Following sets from lovely openers Rauelsson and Bright Archer, Gibson shall regale us all with songs both old and new. (Her forthcoming album will be out in early 2012, courtesy of her still-can't-be-announced deal with a respected Pacific Northwest record label, whose name she shall not mention.) If wonderful music in a comfortable setting isn't enough for you, local man-about-town Brian Perez will be hosting a special cakewalk in Gibson's honor. What's a cakewalk, you say? It's a magical game where the winner gets motherfucking cake. That is all you ever need to know. EZRA ACE CARAEFF


(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) If for some reason you missed TRMRS at the annual Smmr Bmmr, do not fret. The Costa Mesa quartet are doubling up on their Portland dates and giving us another healthy dose of scuzzier-than-scuzz psych-pop. In another life, TRMRS might have channeled their sun-soaked SoCal upbringing and formed a joyful surf-rock act in the vein of the Bel-Airs. But instead they sound like the result of too many mornings spent riding the swells outside the San Onofre Nuclear Generating Station: a severely mutated assembly of surf guitars, garage rock pacing, and tape hiss aplenty. TRMRS just released a new EP entitled Tape: Side B that is available digitally (timely) and on cassette (not timely at all). EAC


(Bunk Bar, 1028 SE Water) If you find yourself stuck in a rut during the workweek, drop by Bunk Bar tonight for a jolt that will blast you out of your complacency. Rabbits are steadily becoming a Portland mainstay; the trio's patented blend of metal and hardcore sounds like lava shrieking forth from the earth—you know, if lava shrieked instead of bubbled, or whatever lava does. Their full-length Lower Forms, out earlier this year on Relapse, is a steadily fascinating album, rewarding repeat listens as the band vaguely carves out the stages of man over its 10 tracks. It's invigorating and a little scary, and it's all the better for not toeing the familiar metal party line, finding a previously undiscovered realm of bellowing guitars, cannonball drums, and guttural vocal yawps. NL