JACK WHITE, CURTIS HARDING
(Edgefield, 2126 SW Halsey, Troutdale) To say that Lazaretto, Jack White's second solo album, is the best thing he's done since the White Stripes will sound like high praise to those charmed by the busman's holiday twofer of the Raconteurs and Dead Weather, but lyrics don't get much worse than "I've got a rabbit, it likes to hop/I've got a girl and she likes to shop" (the Raconteurs' "Intimate Secretary"). I lost interest in the Stripes circa Icky Thump, a sketch of a record. Near as I could tell, they had, too. If White's debut, Blunderbuss, failed to burnish or destroy his rep, the follow-up reveals a reinvigorated musician. Sure, he's spent the past year badmouthing a few colleagues, but niceness doesn't always breed the best rock 'n' roll. KATHY FENNESSY


AVEY TARE'S SLASHER FLICKS, RALEIGH MONCRIEF
(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) While Animal Collective's most recent record, 2012's Centipede Hz, captured the frenetic, spastic effervescence of their nature, the group has been taking things relatively easy since. They're no road dogs. They rarely tour, and when they do it's often at massive festivals. Mostly gone, then, are the days of seeing Animal Collective in a packed, sweaty, intimate club—which makes the appearance of Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks at Mississippi Studios all the more vital. With the wordier, more energized of Animal Collective's two vocalists joined by former Dirty Projector Angel Deradoorian on bass and Ponytail drummer Jeremy Hyman, Slasher Flicks are a bit of a throwback to Feels-era Animal Collective, particularly that album's "Flesh Canoe," when the group, then more analog than digital, banged and clattered and screamed with abandon. Slasher Flicks are more compact, structured, and aggressive. From this year's Enter the Slasher House, crank up "Blind Babe" and imagine how it'll play in a sweaty little rock club—loud and raw and sweetly unhinged. ANDREW R TONRY


THE AFGHAN WHIGS, JOSEPH ARTHUR
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) It is empirically impossible for the reunited Afghan Whigs to put out too much music, come through town too often, or sing the word "baby" too many sexually charged times. That's what's called science. Greg Dulli and the boys are back for a two-night run at the Doug Fir, after blowing the roof off the joint in April. Get fucking stoked, baby. COURTNEY FERGUSON


THE EAGLES
(Moda Center, 1 Center Ct) Rock's most boring band took a couple of decades off and emerged as rock's biggest assholes. (Don't worry, they're still boring.) Lead asshole Don Henley has been litigious against artists like Frank Ocean and Okkervil River for altering his songs to make new work, apparently not paying attention to the past 25 years of pop music history. Someone get this man a copy of Paul's Boutique, stat. And co-lead asshole Glenn Frey, along with Henley, fired guitarist/non-asshole Don Felder after they tricked the longtime member into taking a lower percentage of Eagles profits. Joe Walsh and Timothy B. Schmidt, who are only assholes-by-association, are still kicking around, and original member Bernie Leadon has popped up on a few recent shows. I don't know if he's an asshole. At tonight's show you can sing along to schlock like "Best of My Love" and "Heartache Tonight" and be an asshole, too! NED LANNAMANN