DARKDRIVECLINIC, WUSSY
(Star Theater, 13 NW 6th) Read our article on Wussy.


ETERNAL TAPESTRY, BLOOD BEACH, SWAHILI
(The Know, 2026 NE Alberta) Read our article on Eternal Tapestry.


BROWNISH BLACK, THE SATIN CHAPS, DJ DREW GROOVE
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Read our article on Brownish Black.


LEMONADE, LE1F
(Bunk Bar, 1028 SE Water) In just a couple of short years, the soft, panacean sounds of chillwave have given way to something more brittle and MIDI'fied. Brooklyn trio Lemonade have tapped into that sometimes irritating-to-listen-to zeitgeist with Diver, their second album and one that offsets truly ghastly, cheesy synth tones with sugar-sweet songwriting. The result is something that echoes the tinny, harsh production of early-'90s mainstream pop—music, in other words, that most people would prefer to forget. Lemonade manages a few compelling, pretty moments within their rigid, swingless structure (particularly the Bobby Brown-cribbing album closer "Softkiss"), but most of the record remains surprisingly anonymous-sounding and whitebread. Not that it'll keep the band from amassing a huge following of fans who were just being born when this music was on the radio the first time around. NED LANNAMANN


SONNYMOON, JONTI, KNXWLEDGE, DOC ADAM
(Crown Room, 205 NW 4th) South African/Australian producer, vocalist, and multi-instrumentalist Jonti has an ear for pop music and a respect for the greats who've come before. It's no coincidence that Jonti and most of his better-known Stones Throw labelmates (J Dilla, Madlib, Mayer Hawthorne, James Pants, the Stepkids) are known to be avid record collectors. The one binding factor between their music is that they all re-purpose household, familiar styles and influences from the past to create something fresh and futuristic. Like others, Jonti samples records, but rather than directly recording and chopping a sample, he re-contextualizes the note progressions by recreating them on his vintage Moog Opus 3 synthesizer. This enables him to create dreamy soundscapes out of pop music, using hiphop production techniques for experimental and psychedelic sounds. Sharing the stage is Philadelphia beatsmith Knxwledge, and Sonnymoon, an intriguing Boston synth/R&B/pop duo. ROCHELLE HUNTER


HOW TO DRESS WELL, MY BODY, BABE RAINBOW
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) How to Dress Well, the musical alias of sometime philosopher Tom Krell, has become famous for his DIY rendering of 1990s soul. By turns transcendentally beautiful and harshly distorted, HTDW's earnest jams call to mind a Mr. Microphone as much as Boyz II Men. Interpreting R&B as ambient music and trading soulful harmonies for muddied lyrics strips most of the genre's sexy signifiers, so HTDW comes across as more of a romantic fantasy than the recounting of a bedroom reality. Like a cold shower, the aquatic-sounding production is partly responsible for this, but it's also what sets HTDW so far apart. On Love Remains, one song in particular sounds like a ballad sung by heartsick whales. It's called "My Body"—coincidentally the name of the opening band, who are about to transplant to Brooklyn. Tragically, this will be their last Portland show as Portlanders. REBECCA WILSON


QUEUED UP, PATAHA HISS, THEE FOUR TEENS
(Kelly's Olympian, 426 SW Washington) The genre power pop is applied to a ton of different bands these days, and plenty of them are way wussier than what Pete Townshend had in mind when he coined the term. Queued Up are not one of those bands. Their savage, jagged pop songs hark back to mid-'60s Who and Kinks, as well as their late-'70s resurrections, Dwight Twiley and the Jam. They're equally tuneful and aggressive, which is precisely what any group flaunting the power pop label ought to be. And while it may be thoroughly, spectacularly retro—the band wear matching, tight-fitting suits, hand business cards out at shows, and have a full-blown, borderline tawdry band logo—it seems to mostly come from an authentic place. I know it makes me wanna scream like it's 1964. MORGAN TROPER


MEMORY BOYS, FINGERS OF THE SUN, NEW CENTURY SCHOOLBOOK
(Record Room, 8 NE Killingsworth) Denver's Fingers of the Sun hark back to the fey, beauteous pop of cultish UK label Sarah Records' '80s roster. Their songs flow with easygoing cheerfulness tempered by an undercurrent of melancholy, balancing those opposing moods with balletic grace. Occasionally, Fingers of the Sun imbue their tunes with a sundowner'ed, psychedelic languidness—especially on "Careful with Those Sleeping Pills, Percy," a brilliant, 27-minute Pink Floyd homage/parody. DAVE SEGAL