DEVO, BOY EATS DRUM MACHINE
(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) Axl Rose's cornrows of shame. Vince Neil's mangled, Botoxed face. Boy George's generously expanded waistline. Artists of the '80s are a walking example of the unforgiving nature of age, yet somehow Devo has found a way to be cooler now than they were when they first introduced de-evolution to the masses. (Although the band took shape in '73 and the excellent Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo! and Duty Now for the Future were released in the '70s, the band will forever be associated with the Reagan years). Credit their unapologetically nerdy exterior for Devo's secret to besting Father Time, as Mark Mothersbaugh & Co. never bought into the shallow rock-star faÇade, even when their shockingly deep catalog of hits and near-hits ("Whip It," "Through Being Cool," "Girl U Want," "Beautiful World," "Freedom of Choice," "Here to Go," and their best song—I will fight you over this—"Gates of Steel") is stronger than almost any band of that decade. Proof positive that you can never grow old with an energy dome on your head. EAC Also see My, What a Busy Week!


BOB LOG III, MR. FREE AND THE SATELLITE FREAKOUT
(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) Bob Log III is one of the all-time American weirdos. He performs with a helmet on (there's a mic inside) and he wears an Evel Knievel-style daredevil suit, strumming a disastrously fuzzed-out guitar while kicking at drums with his feet. His music is Delta blues with dirty lyrics (song titles include "Clap Your Tits," "I Want Your Shit on My Leg," and the infamous "Boob Scotch," in which Messr. Log invites a willing female member of the audience onstage to insert her breast into his glass of scotch). Without the filthy humor there's not much to Log's gutbucket blues schtick, but I suppose with the proper mindset—and the proper number of drinks—a good time will present itself. NED LANNAMANN


THE GROWLERS, FIDLAR, NIGHTMOVES
(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) When coming of age in Orange County you either adapt or die. The members of Costa Mesa's Growlers chose a third path: They dropped the fuck out. In lieu of sporting Avenged Sevenfold (or Lit, or the Offspring, or...) T-shirts and bro-ing down with the masses, this quintet created a world entirely their own, a freaky little existence carved from Nuggets compilations and off-kilter garage pop. While the Growlers' slapdash Are You in or Out? felt incomplete, their follow-up Hot Tropics is quite the opposite. The hallucinatory and vivid Tropics is loaded with reverb-soaked songs that make a valid argument against the destruction of their coastal hometown, which really says something. To gain admittance to this sponsored free show, hand over all your personal information (free rum trumps privacy every time) to the suits at Sailor Jerry: growlpdx.sailorjerrypresents.com. EAC


KINKS TRIBUTE & PUNK COVERS NIGHT: THE CARNABETIAN ARMY, THE JIM JAMS, DJ CHRIS O'CONNOR
(East End, 203 SE Grand) It's tribute night at East End, with the Jim Jams offering a set of punk covers and the Carnabetian Army performing their immaculately detailed Kinks tribute, right down to the frilly cravats. With a repertoire that spans the power chords of "You Really Got Me" to the delicately nuanced splendor of "Waterloo Sunset" to the pub sing-along of "Lola," the Carnabetian Army—who take their name from a line in "Dedicated Follower of Fashion," referring to the crowds on Carnaby Street during the Swinging London era—has their work cut out for them, but any set that includes songs like "Victoria," "Till the End of the Day," and "David Watts" really can't go wrong. NL