SUPER PICK

CHERRY GLAZERR, SLOW HOLLOWS
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) When they released Haxel Princess in 2014, two-thirds of Cherry Glazerr’s members were still in high school. The Los Angeles band’s snarling full-length debut unleashed the uniquely formidable rage of teenage girls via razorblade guitar riffs and Clementine Creevy’s alternating mix of coyote yowls and detached, playful ghost whispers. Haxel Princess captivates for a number of reasons, like the ooey-gooey seduction of “Grilled Cheese”; simple but perfect lyrics like “All my friends are cool and nice/all my friends are made out of sugar and spice”; and period anthem “White’s Not My Color This Evening,” one of the most accurate songs ever penned about menstruation. But in 2017, Cherry Glazerr is basically a different band—Creevy, now 19, is the only remaining original member (she’s joined by drummer Tabor Allen and multi-instrumentalist Sasami Ashworth). Last month the reborn three-piece released Apocalipstick, 11 tracks of radioactive rock that seem to have risen from the fallout of something—adolescence, soured romance, self-destruction, or any combination of the three. Here Cherry Glazerr sheds its old skin, revealing fresh venom and a newfound radio-ready sheen, likely the result of Grammy Award-winning producer Joe Chiccarelli’s experienced hand. Some lyrics overextend into clichĂ©s or gimmicky topicality (see “Instagratification”), and despite the shell-shocked imagery, Apocalipstick doesn’t quite match the calculating impact of Haxel Princess. But Cherry Glazerr made a great record­—“Sip o’ Poison” sounds like a scooter chase through hell, and standout track “Nuclear Bomb” is a roughed-up pop confessional that features spacey keyboard effects and the line “all the stars are swimming in a bathtub” (what could it mean?!). Last time I saw them play was at the Smell in LA, and I got the wind knocked out of me from some youth’s swift elbow to my ribs. But it was totally worth it—Cherry Glazerr is just that good. CIARA DOLAN


WEDNESDAY 2/8

TYVEK, FRED THOMAS, SKIN LIES
(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) Read our story on Fred Thomas.

PWRHAUS, SECRETS, SCHAUS
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Portland soul-pop auteur Tonality Star has emerged as one of the city’s best but relatively unknown songwriters. Drizzled with psychedelia, Star’s new self-titled LP under the moniker Pwrhaus combines sticky-sweet R&B and lovesick Motown pomp. His solo work is fleshed out live with a revolving cast of musicians, and the band’s sultry performances have become something of a treasured secret. This latest release finds Star conjuring Purple Rain-era Prince, especially on tunes as unabashedly sensual as “I’ll Never Let You Go.” It’s smoky, but allows Star’s potent falsetto to emerge smoothly on candlelit tracks like “Set on You.” He’s also creating a long psychedelic visual to accompany the new record, so get ready to trip nards, y’all. RYAN J. PRADO

MIKE DOUGHTY, WHEATUS
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Wheatus’ 2000 debut single “Teenage Dirtbag” has become the unofficial fight song in my house. Though it’s definitely campy, the New York one-hit wonder’s four-minute magnum opus is a masterpiece of living room nostalgia. The song was born at the peak of pop-emo, when every crappy sad-boy romcom with Jason Biggs was soundtracked by likeminded pop-punk bands. Its music video is essentially a trailer for Biggs’ post-American Pie box office dud Loser, cut with shots of Wheatus performing “Teenage Dirtbag” in a high school gym, where lead singer/guitarist Brendan B. Brown sports the iconic Adidas tracksuit (with the logo blurred out)/bucket hat look. It’s jam-packed with late-’90s aesthetic tropes: Barenaked Ladies-inspired acoustic guitar, a beeper sample, whiny male vocals, and a dramatic key change in the bridge. While “Teenage Dirtbag” is certainly not the song we need, it’s the song we deserve. CAMERON CROWELL

ALUK TODOLO, INSECT ARK, MISERABLE, HIGH AND FRAGILE, HZ
(High Water Mark, 6800 NE MLK) If you’re one of Portland’s denizens of darkness, you have a can’t-miss engagement tonight at the High Water Mark Lounge. French instrumental heavies Aluk Todolo are in town, and they don’t tour the US very often. They do, however, make terrific records: Both 2012’s Occult Rock and 2016’s Voix are packed to the gills with disorienting, strobe-lit psych-metal that’s droning, weird, and thunderous, and also sort of shimmering and accessible. These dudes lock into a groove unlike any of their contemporaries, incorporating the motorik pulse of krautrock, unsettlingly discordant guitars, and a palpable black magick vibe. Add it all up and you can hear why Voix ended up on a whole bunch of year-end lists. Also on the bill: creepy American electro-doom duo Insect Ark, Oakland folksy drone-pop band Miserable (AKA Kristina Esfandiari from King Woman), and Portland super-producer Billy Anderson’s solo project, HZ. BEN SALMON

REEL BIG FISH, ANTI-FLAG, BALLYHOO!, PKEW PKEW PKEW
(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) If you’re like me, lately you’ve been yearning for the ’90s, when the biggest debate surrounding the POTUS concerned who he was boinking. We were young and naïve those days, which could explain why we ever let “ska-punk” become a thing. To remind us just how misguided we were, Reel Big Fish is crossing the country to celebrate the 20th anniversary of Turn the Radio Off, which every teenager in America bought when it was released, but now can be found in dollar CD bins from coast to coast. If you feel that 2017 isn’t the appropriate time to skank to “She Has a Girlfriend Now” or “Snoop Dog, Baby,” rest assured that Anti-Flag will also be on hand, celebrating their own 20th anniversary of the anarcho pop-punk classic Die for the Government. Oh, to be young and innocent again. SANTI ELIJAH HOLLEY

THURSDAY 2/9

ACE FREHLEY, ENUFF Z’NUFF
(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) Read our story on Ace Frehley.

SURFER BLOOD, BLOWOUT
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) This week, Portland officially loses one of its best young rock bands, Blowout, who are calling it quits after this final show. What’s important here is not what Blowout could have done, but instead what they’re leaving us with: the fantastic 2014 EP We All Float Down Here and their 2016 full-length debut, No Beer, No Dad—an album of effusive, scrappy pop-punk as intricate and knotty as it is nostalgic and cathartic. Though there’s stiff competition in a city with one of the country’s most fertile DIY scenes, “Green Couch,” a twisting, turning shape-shifter of a punk anthem, might have been the best song to come out of Portland last year. If you’ve ever been to a Blowout show, you know how much we’ll miss them. NATHAN TUCKER

FRIDAY 2/10

BEATS, TIME & SPACE: AMENTA ABIOTO, THE PRESENT ELDERS, WINE & COFFEE, SURVIVAL SKILLS
(Dig a Pony, 736 SE Grand) Talk about two great tastes that go great together: Beat Parlor (the beloved house, electronic, future-jazz show on KMHD radio) is teaming up with inclusive party rockers YGB (celebrating all things young, gifted, and brown) to bring you Beats, Time & Space: a dance night of live beat making and good vibes with the hypnotic, melodic loops of singer/multi-instrumentalist Amenta Abioto, Beat Parlor’s DJ Survival Skills, Wine and Coffee, and the Present Elders. Prepare to dance and be entranced. WM. STEVEN HUMPHREY

ACE FREHLEY, ENUFF Z’NUFF
(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) Read our story on Ace Frehley.

FAMINE FEST NW IV: NASTY SAVAGE, FUNEBRARUM, NECROHOLOCAUST, DEAD CONSPIRACY, DESOLATOR
(Bossanova Ballroom, 722 E Burnside) It’s that filthy time of year again when the sewer backs up underneath one lucky venue in Portland for two days, and an elite army of extreme metal bands slithers out of the bile and slime to violate your senses. That’s right, Famine Fest NW is upon us, and this year is dripping with blaspheming promise. The nightmarish blackened death assault of Portland’s Iron Scepter should make your must-see list for Friday—each of the five songs on their Black Fucking Portal EP are as suffocating as they are atmospheric and haunting. The festival’s first day also showcases the classic death/thrash of Nasty Savage. In their 34 years as a band, the legendary Florida gladiators have yet to mount a Portland stage. If your thirst for baleful punishment wasn’t fulfilled Friday, Saturday features a rare sighting of local cemetery lurkers Ritual Necromancy, and the fierce evil of Oakland’s Necrot. Containing members from Acephalix, Vastum, and Saviors, Necrot’s The Labyrinth was one of the darkest and most unforgiving death metal records of 2016. Once again, Famine Fest NW promises to sate your lust for a sonic lashing. ARIS HUNTER WALES

LOSCIL, BENOÎT PIOULARD, CONTACT CULT
(Leaven Community Center, 5431 NE 20th) Over the past 15 years, Benoüt Pioulard (whose real name is Thomas Meluch) has established himself as one of the finest creators of intimate little tunes that flutter between ambient, soft-focused drones, field recordings, lo-fi electro-pop, and fuzzy folk. Pioulard’s music is always elegant and emotionally rich, even when there are no words to go along with the sounds. Last year he released The Benoüt Pioulard Listening Matter on the estimable Kranky Records. It finds Pioulard exploring his more pop-oriented instincts: verses, choruses, and vocals that carry the melody. As always, the work is understated and beautiful, like the Magnetic Fields jamming to the tick of a vintage clock and getting shushed by Nick Drake. The results are gauzy and whimsical—a welcome peek at this side of Pioulard’s songwriting. BS

CORY HANSON
(The Old Church, 1422 SW 11th) Between August 2014 and September 2015, LA’s Wand released three (!) excellent albums of psychedelic garage rock that are equal parts heavy and hooky, like a bunch of Beatles and Black Sabbath records melting into one pile of goo in the backseat of a Scion on a scorching Southern Californian afternoon. For 13 months, Wand was wild-eyed and weird, and then all of a sudden they went quiet. Last year, drummer Evan Burrows and frontman Cory Hanson appeared in Ty Segall’s short-lived band the Muggers, and then last fall, Hanson released a solo album called The Unborn Capitalist from Limbo that strips away all the apocalyptic roar. What’s left is an incredible suite of songs that pair Hanson’s natural knack for melody with exquisite string-trio arrangements by LA musician Heather Lockie. Hanson’s lyrics are engaging and elusive, like a hall of mirrors full of interesting ideas. Wand always had a pure pop heartbeat pounding beneath its fuzzed-out exoskeleton, and Unborn Capitalist lays that heart out for all to see. BS

SATURDAY 2/11

FAMINE FEST NW IV: REVENGE, LORD GORE, RITUAL NECROMANCY, WEREGOAT, TREPANATION, BLOODY MASTER
(Bossanova Ballroom, 722 E Burnside) See Friday’s preview.

SUNDAY 2/12

PSYCHOMAGIC, KERA AND THE LESBIANS
(Rontoms, 600 E Burnside) Last year, R&B folk duo Kera and the Lesbians released their self-titled debut, which jumps between stripped-down folk, neo-soul, alt-country, and even yacht rock with ease and grace. The album was a long time coming for the Southern California band, who’ve been playing lively shows since the release of their 2013 single “Nailbiter.” Kera Armendariz’s vocals sound like a lo-fi Amy Winehouse fronting Jimmy Buffett’s backing band with shaken percussion, pedal steel guitar, and organ. To kick off 2017, Kera and the Lesbians dropped the follow-up single “I’m Late,” a collaboration with fellow Angelenos the Wild Reeds, who add ghostly reverbed harmonies for a cold but gorgeous effect. CC

MONDAY 2/13

AUSTRA, THE RANGE
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) The electronic pop of Austra is cavernous and cool, with gauzy synths and automated beats that marry the fragility of Katie Stelmanis’ very human voice with the geometric perfection of digital sound. Tonight Stelmanis and crew stop by Holocene on a tour supporting Austra’s third album, the wistful but wholly relevant Future Politics. NED LANNAMANN

JOAN OF ARC, MAGAS, DROWSE
(Analog CafĂ©, 720 SE Hawthorne) Brothers Mike and Tim Kinsella, the progenitors of crystalline emo as we know it, couldn’t have taken more divergent paths following the dissolution of their legendary premo band, Cap’n Jazz. Mike formed the pensive and tuneful American Football before launching his mature solo project, Owen, but older brother Tim never really escaped his ramshackle, “fuck you, dad” roots. His band Joan of Arc’s debut, A Portable Model Of, is a misunderstood classic of the genre that manages to be both grating and ingratiating. The group’s January release, He’s Got the Whole This Land Is Your Land in His Hands, drunkenly swaggers across the same tightrope. Per Tim Kinsella tradition, it doesn’t always hit homeruns; the singer’s inimitable bleat and try-hard wordplay (“Pizza and cunnilingus both give me heartburn”) grow especially irksome here. But standouts like the feedback-laden “Grange Hex Stream” and “F Is for Fake”—which sounds like an A.I. trying to write a Cap’n Jazz song—prove just how far out emo can get. MORGAN TROPER

TUESDAY 2/14

REVA DEVITO, B. BRAVO, BARISONE, DJ LAMAR LEROY, THE LAST ARTFUL, DODGR
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Whether you’re cuffing or flying solo this Valentine’s Day, Holocene is the place to be. Catch local R&B singer/songwriter Reva DeVito playing hits from her 2016 debut EP, The Move—six sultry tracks of soulful electro-pop produced by big names like Kaytranada and Com Truise. CIARA DOLAN

HEAR FOR CHARLIE: MÁSCARAS, COPY, THE WILD BODY
(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) Charlie Salas-Humara is one of Portland’s most innovative and prolific musicians, exhibiting his offbeat sonic worldview in diverse projects like Sun Angle, Panther, Grapefruit, Ylang Ylang, and The Planet The, among countless others. He’s been experiencing ear pain and hearing difficulties that have made it impossible for him to continue making his weird, wonderful music, so tonight his homies in the terrific bands Máscaras, Copy, and the Wild Body are hosting a benefit show to help him defray medical expenses. With the looming death of Obamacare and the defunding of our valuable arts institutions, you don’t need to once again hear how crucial supporting these types of events are. Just remember that tonight’s is among the very worthiest for you to spend your time and money—plus, it’s gonna rock. NED LANNAMANN

HEARTS ON FIRE COUNTRY DUET SHOWCASE: CALEB KLAUDER AND REEB WILLMS, LEWI LONGMIRE AND KATHRYN CLAIRE, JENNY DON’T AND JOSHUA CHARLES McCASLIN, MAMMA COAL AND BRYAN WIESE, MATTY CHARLES AND KATIE ROSE
(Star Theater, 13 NW 6th) Country music and love have an awkward relationship. Buried deep in every guitar stroke, every pluck of a fiddle, or the rumble of two-step bass lines are tales of misdeeds, adultery, lovers lost, and the spiraling depression that comes as a result. It’s fitting, then, that tonight’s showcase of country duets is called Hearts on Fire, appropriately contrasting the perceived romanticism of Valentine’s Day. Besides, this lineup won’t cheat you out of anything: Performances by bluegrass beauties Caleb Klauder and Reeb Willms are offset by the slightly more outlaw-tinged catalogs of Jenny Don’t (frontwoman of Jenny Don’t and the Spurs) and Joshua Charles McCaslin (Roselit Bone). Forget about Cupid’s wayward arrow; country music has always been there when life gets rough. Honor that sentiment tonight, and drink lots of whiskey. RJP

FRENCH VANILLA, DUBAIS, COCKEYE
(Valentine’s, 232 SW Ankeny) Valentine’s Day typically brings about more harm than good. Taunting the lonely and heartbroken with traditional imagery of what relationships and love should look like makes this “holiday” feel like a repugnant pressure cooker, turning up the heat in the least sensual way. While some couples will undoubtedly fall in line with the conventional norms seen in romcoms, consider spending your Valentine’s Day at Valentine’s. Tonight’s lineup combats orthodox ideals of sexuality, gender, and genre: LA’s French Vanilla encourages femmes to the front, with cheeky and sax-heavy post-punk. Queercore feminist punk duo Cockeye bring both hilarity and rambunctiousness to their energetic live sets, while full-time Arabfuturist and part-time Pacific Northwesterner Nadia Buyse plays dark disco-punk under the moniker Dubais, exploring identity, political follies, and societal struggles through transcendental bleeps, bloops, and audio samples. CERVANTE POPE