LEMOLO, SARA JACKSON-HOLMAN, CABIN PROJECT
(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) If Lemolo aren't already on your list of favorite Northwest bands, it's only a matter of time. The Seattle-area duo makes a uniquely yearning kind of pop that places you right at the waterline: When the music isn't gently rolling over you like a slow current rinses through undulating underwater plants, it's crashing down on you like heavy surf, dashing you against the rocks. Meagan Grandall's piano, guitar, and voice steer the craft, while Kendra Cox's drums and synths are the engine, the two working in tandem through both calm seas and intense squalls. Sorry about all these water metaphors. Apparently Grandall and Cox met as kayak instructors on Liberty Bay (they're named after Poulsbo's Lemolo Shore Drive) so perhaps it's inevitable their music evokes the association. Lemolo's 2012 debut The Kaleidoscope has no shortage of gasp-worthy moments, but they're even better in person. NED LANNAMANN


ICEAGE, BELLICOSE MINDS, STILL CAVES, SEWERS OF PARIS
(Star Theater, 13 NW 6th) The temporal-vein bursting anger that runs through Iceage's music is nothing to be taken lightly—no one's captured that pure invincible recklessness in recent years quite like the Danish punk quartet. Iceage raged against their own machine before catching the ears of disenfranchised kids and critics here in America with their 2011 debut New Brigade. That doesn't appear to be changing anytime soon. This year's release of You're Nothing shows these kids are still plenty pissed and looking to raise some fists. Of course, there's a shelf life for this kind of intensity. If Iceage is still burning this hot in 10 years, you'll have to wonder about its sincerity. Probably best to experience it now while it's still bottled up and pure. MARK LORE


TED LEO, DEATHFIX, TIANAMEN BEAR
(Backspace, 115 NW 5th) Have you ever had an extremely intense relationship with someone that ultimately, and maybe inexplicably, didn't last very long? That's sort of how I think about Ted Leo—specifically, his 2004 effort with his band the Pharmacists, Shake the Sheets. For a brief, concentrated period of time, this was the only record that mattered to me. Although I can intellectually recognize how much it impacted me in hindsight, I've never been able to revisit it in quite the same way on an emotional level, but it's easy to see how I became initially hooked. Leo's music—even on record—has that eerie, "right in the room with you" quality that makes even his sweeter and more subdued compositions uncomfortably intense. It's a unique and immensely alluring characteristic. His latest release, 2010's The Brutalist Bricks, might not be as roundly exceptional as Sheets, but it's still a goddamned Ted Leo album. Tonight he performs solo on a bill with Deathfix, the band of Fugazi's Brendan Canty. MORGAN TROPER


DANAVA, OCCULTATION, BORROWED TIME, DJ DENNIS DREAD
(Dante's, 350 W Burnside) Not quite Donovan and not quite a banana, Danava will rock your socks off. One part rock 'n' roll, one part metal, and two parts Spinal Tap look-alikes, Danava combines traditional metal with a dash of prog-psychedelic rock. This is the release show for a vinyl EP of their 2004 demos, and the last show before their European tour, so get ready to rage. ROSE FINN


NILE, CEREMONIAL CASTINGS, WORLD OF LIES, HEATHEN SHRINE, SEASON OF SUFFERING
(Hawthorne Theatre, 1507 SE César E. Chávez) After 20 years of grinding out uncompromising, skull-crushing, Egyptian-themed (yet they call North Carolina home) death metal, it's safe to say we know what to expect from a Nile show: blast beats, double-necked guitars, skullets, seven-minute songs about mummies, pharaohs, and kings, sweatpants, and last but not least, a whole lot of brutality. Rip thy bong. Bang thy head. Repeat. KEVIN DIERS


VERONICA FALLS, BRILLIANT COLORS, GOLDEN GRRRLS
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) A name like Golden Grrrls might immediately send the ol' cutesy detector into high gear. But the Glaswegian trio's self-titled debut is on Slumberland, where preciousness is almost a prerequisite. Their songs embody just that—plenty of boy-girl vocals bopping over jangly, slightly off guitars. If pop in the spirit of Black Tambourine and Flying Nun Records is your thing, then Golden Grrrls is your band. Labelmates Veronica Falls are probably just as fucking twee, but the residue of their songs tends to stick around longer. I don't know if the Doug Fir can withstand the high levels of cuteness sure to be unleashed tonight. But it's definitely the place to be if you want to get your yé-yés out. MARK LORE