Y LA BAMBA, BLACK PRAIRIE, AND AND AND, LOST LANDER
(Rose Festival, Waterfront Park) Even when they're less than spectacular, Portland summers are still the best weather ever, and the Rose Fest is our chance to celebrate it, not only with gut-churning rides but with outdoor concerts like tonight's, featuring Y La Bamba, the Decemberists/Dolorean supergroup Black Prairie, And And And, and Lost Lander! MARJORIE SKINNER


STONEBURNER, DEAD BY DAWN, SQUALORA, BURIALS
(Plan B, 1305 SE 8th) Seventh Rule Records has done it again. They've nabbed Stoneburner, another sonically devastating Portland band, and they've just released the band's new record, Sickness Will Pass. Sickness is a planet-destroying Death Star of an album that contains doom for doom fans of all tastes. For those who seek thunderous, down-tuned, sludgey crawls, they've got that. Stomping, bang-able, fuzzy grooves with sweet solos—check. The occasional ambient, spacey interlude that breaks up the girth and provides cool-down periods before the next pummeling—bingo. It seems that Stoneburner has discovered a perfect formula for doom that's not too boring, yet multifaceted without sounding like musical ADHD. ARIS WALES


BROOKE PARROTT, JENNIE WAYNE
(Alberta Street Public House, 1036 NE Alberta) A prerequisite for singing backup in Loch Lomond is having a set of pipes that can keep pace with those of Ritchie Young. The average pop singer can't do this, but then, not much about Brooke Parrott is average. For one thing, she majored in piano at Berklee College of Music and wrote her 2008 debut, Another City, in a disused pub in London. Buried, her new EP, continues to explore the dislocation—emotional, geographical—that Another City began. Parrott's songs are poignant and heartfelt, but never overblown, thanks mostly to her vocal restraint. Melancholy torch songs may well be the best medium for Parrott's sweeping classical piano, but take heed: If you're feeling blue, each of the six songs on Buried will ensure that you stay that way. REBECCA WILSON


TIM BARRY, KEVIN SECONDS, JULIE KARR, MATT DANGER
(Hawthorne Theatre, 1507 SE 39th) There's a moment on Tim Barry's newest album, 40 Miler, that is the perfect example of why I love Tim Barry. In the title track, he sings: "I can't stand songs about writing songs/And albums over 40 minutes long/And broke-up bands on their third reunion tour/Damn, Beau, we both should've quit at age 24." He delivers the last line, addressing his old Avail bandmate Beau Beau, with a laugh. While so many bands are trying to hold on to the past for what feels like nothing more than an attempt to fill their empty bank accounts, Barry is okay with the fact that he's broke (as he often sings). He's happy writing simple but genuine folk songs about where he's been and the people he knows, without forcing something that isn't there (and possibly looking ridiculous in the process) in order to make a buck. MEGAN SELING


EXCRUCIATOR, HEADLESS PEZ, GLADIUS, BLOOD OF KINGS
(Mt. Tabor Theater, 4811 SE Hawthorne) If you're like most, seeing a band's name on a flyer accompanied by a pentagram made of dicks might make you think twice about catching their live show. However, if that band's name is Headless Pez, do yourself a favor and ignore those instincts. When HP takes a stage, expect to see men in spandex, bondage, chaps, over-sized penises, exaggerated pubic hair, mustaches curled over maniacal smiles, and many other refinements. It all seems quite silly, until they start playing. Then you get squealing screams, lightning-fast solos, and notes that bend until guitar necks snap, literally. In fact, Headless Pez's thrash is so fast and powerful, and their obsession with the male sex organ is so great, they may have invented a new metal subgenre: Phallic Power Thrash! AW