THURSDAY 9/25

MANITOBA, DABRYE, STRATEGY
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) See Music pg 29



POINT LINE PLANE, 01 [POP MUSIC]
(Backspace,115 NW 5th) In a brilliant turn of events, Point Line Plane is going to play at a video arcade. Everyone's going to go crazy! And not like ha ha crazy, but screws are literally going to come loose. Sounding like a robot that's being penetrated in the ear, PLP's synthy no wave is the perfect thing to have going as you play o.g. Donkey Kong and grind your teeth into sand. Total meltdown. MARJORIE SKINNER



THE KILLS, WHIRLWIND HEAT, ROGERS SISTERS
(Berbati's, 231 SW Ankeny) The Kills are dirty birds. Not just in appearance (although they both could use a mild conditioner to loosen up the greasy knots in their hair) but in their fingerprint-stained artwork, sailor-filthy mouths and sexed-up stage presence--the latter of which they have in spades. Their brilliant debut, Keep on Your Mean Side, is a beautiful mess of nicotine vocals, programmed drum beats, and jerking guitars that interplay clumsily. As a live band, The Kills are even more chaotic; the interaction between the mysterious duo/couple of VV and Hotel is powerful, and when they look into each other's eyes while rasping out the chorus "Fuck the People," you can't help but think they mean it. EZRA ACE CARAEFF



THE SHINY THINGS, THE NEINS, THE KICKSTARTS
(Conan's, 3862 SE Hawthorne) The Neins sure are peppy! The music is bouncy, downright jolly in fact. It's a greasy sound that borrows from pop (the singer's vocal inflections are a bit reminiscent of Black Francis), rockabilly, and meat-and-potatoes rock 'n' roll. MS



TED LEO SOLO, THE QUAILS, LION FEVER
(Meow Meow, 527 SE Pine) See MWBW pg 25



XIU XIU, GOOD FOR COWS, 7 YEAR RABBIT CYCLE, YELLOW SWANS
(Million, 120 NE Russell) 7 Year Rabbit Cycle features founding Deerhoof guitarist Rob Fisk and Kelly Goodefisk, a former 'hoof keyboardist. The couple alternated between living in Alaska and San Francisco before settling out in Knoxville, TN, for a while. The migratory nature of this group explains the double duty of this tour, as a trip back to Alaska beckons. Good thing they released a full-length, Animal People, a lo-fi affair that shared some of the bristling tension that characterized Fisk's guitar contribution to Deerhoof. Genuinely pretty melodies nestle amongst terrifying wilderness shrieks, a mix of eco-terror and Hobbit rock. Prepare for enchantment. Good for Cows features versatile showstopping drummer Ches Smith (Xiu Xiu, Theory of Ruin) and upright bass-player Devon Hoff. The Oakland duo covers Ornette Coleman and does more straightforward originals on the band's self-titled album (Evander Music) when not backing up Xiu Xiu's Jamie Stewart. GEORGE CHEN



TOMMY CASTRO, COCO MONTOYA, DUKE ROBILLARD, ROSE CITY KINGS
(Roseland, NW 6th & Burnside) In the current issue of Mother Jones, performers and pundits ponder whether blues lost its soul when it switched its focus from dingy, community-oriented clubs to outdoor festivals (and its role from catalyst for cathartic emotional release, to background music for boozers). Anyone nostalgic about the days when blues crooners bared their deepest feelings and fantasies, no matter how violent or lustful, might want to preserve their sanity by staying away from this sanitized concert, at which passably soulful singers will blues-hammer their way through tuff-enuff rock riffs and non-threatening choruses. However, to listeners who associate blues with beach balls, lawn chairs and good times, this show should be a blast. ANDREW MILLER



FRIDAY 9/26

PARTY OF HELICOPTERS, BURNING IN WATER, DIGITAL KNIFE, DESPERATELY WAITING
(Ash Street, 225 SW Ash) I have a very sane and well-balanced friend who is getting a tattoo of the Party of Helicopters logo. Band tattoos are fine, except the Rolling Stone "tongue" design (which is just fucking inexcusable on any part of your body), but what kind of moderately obscure indie band can bring a sane person to tattoo himself for life as a show of fandom? A damn good one, I guess. Party of Helicopters are unique in the sense that they baffle you with classic-rock pose, guitar heroics, and a singer with a strangely hypnotic falsetto voice. At any given moment, the Party of Helicopters mix genre-bending talent and "what-the-fuck" weirdness. It's a charismatic blend and when this show is over, you might find yourself walking over to one of those late-night tattoo places downtown to get some inking done of your new favorite band. EAC



THE RAVEONETTES, STELLASTARR*, KITTENS FOR CHRISTIAN
(Berbati's) The first time I heard the Raveonettes, I immediately wanted to smoke Gitanes, drink cheap vodka, and make out standing up. Sure, they're a direct rip-off of the Jesus and Mary Chain and the Primitives, but they're so good at the thievery I don't care. They play all their songs in B flat, sometimes the only percussion is a reverbed tambourine; of course, members Sune Rose Wagner and Sharin Foo are beautiful and detached in that fully Danish way. The next time a new Scandy band doesn't suck, someone has to tell me so I don't get kicked out of the record store. TED THIEMAN



MINISTER OF DEFENSE, CONSOLIDATED, ILL CHAMP, J-MACK
(Crab Bowl, 7958 SW Barbur) When pinpointing the acts that led to rap-rock's popularity, pundits cite Run D.M.C., Faith No More, the Beastie Boys and the Judgment Night soundtrack (Mudhoney, meet Sir Mix-A-Lot). Few finger Portland's own Consolidated as one of rip-hop's founding fathers, and given how ugly this bastard child became, it's no wonder its members never demanded a paternity test. But long before Zack de la Rocha launched his first lyrical bumper-sticker slogan, Consolidated was raging against machines. Lest anyone think the group was running out of causes to champion and genres to blend after 15 years, Consolidated emerged in May with The End of Meaning, on which it blasts prostitution, pornography, and capitalist culture while stretching its song structures to incorporate improvisation. ANDREW MILLER



FRANKIE J. & BABY BASH
(Crystal) They're touring on the strength of "Suga Suga," a radio/video hit that combines Frankie J's RHCP-esque acoustic guitar with fuck-me vocals smoother than K-Y Jelly, and this pretty rad sped-up sample that makes the entire song sound underwater, and Baby Bash rapping about getting low. As radio hits go, they're no Kings of Crunk, but they'll do for the next five minutes. JULIANNE SHEPHERD



HELIO SEQUENCE, MENOMENA, NICK FURY, JAMMOTRON
(Ohm) See MWBW pg 25



SATURDAY 9/27

ELTON JOHN TRIBUTE NIGHT
(Laurelthirst) It's hard to imagine a more inappropriate venue than the Laurelthirst to throw a tribute show to Elton John. Or a less appropriate place to show up wearing glitter platforms and shiny suits. Elton would probably squeak like a little girl if he was ever faced with a street urchin wizard king like Laurelthirst regular Baby Gramps. Looks like another night of "celebrating the differences among ourselves." Should be fascinating. MS



BAKESALE EXTRAVAGANZA: MAGIC MAGICIANS, MONITRR BATZ, LES AUTRES, PSEUDO SIX, LION FEVER, CHERRY BLOSSOMS
(Disjecta, 3 pm baking, 7 pm music, $5 for music) Bake sales are as annoying as vegans as far as I'm concerned, but then again, there will be a whole shitload of bands at this one. The reason I hate bake sales is because they're always crowded with a bunch of bespectacled twee dorks who for some reason still wish they were kids and probably refer to cookies as goodies--or worse, yummies. Magic Magicians play tight rock, Pseudo Six harmonize like a drunken barbershop quartet, and non-stick cooking containers heated beyond 500 degrees may cause cancer. KS



TAKE BACK THE MIC
(Department of Skateboarding, 15 NE Hancock, 8 pm, free) Fighting against materialism and violence that "waters down rap music as a raw uncensored form of expression," a bevy of positive, conscious, and, on the whole, skilled Portland hiphop artists will "take back the mic" at one of the better local unconventional venues, the Department of Skateboarding. Sucka Punch, Sirens Echo, Chaz Rock, Mackin Rob, Chinoflaco & Produk, Flossin & Hoggin, J-Kron & Trash Heap, 7 Black Cats, Lightheaded, and Ambition can all be spied and guess what, it's totally free. Raditude. JS



ROCK GARDEN STARRING THE STORES, JACKIE, LOVELY
(420 SW Washington, Suite 201, above Kelly's Oly, 5 pm) All of these great local bands will be performing in conjuncture with what will hopefully be a reoccurring happening, called the "Rock Garden." The event will run from 5 pm to the wee hours of the morning, will feature DJs, local independent artists (jewelry makers, accessory designers, and mixed-media artists), a cash bar, and a free buffet catered by Kelly's Olympian. Put simply: it's rock meets art meets fashion meets buffet food! STEVE "TAPPY" LANNING



MOGWAI, SWORDS PROJECT
(Aladdin) See Music pg 29



LOCAL H, SULLEN, AUDIO LEARNING CENTER
(Ash Street) The name Local H might not sound familiar, but their main hit--which madly chorused, "You just don't get it/you keep it copacetic," probably does. Webster's College Dictionary (2000) defines copacetic as "completely satisfactory." I define Local H's new rec, The No Fun, as "Crapacetic"--which Webster's Adam Gnade Made-up Word Dictionary (2003) describes as "completely unsatisfactory hook-free grunge that borders on dude-pass-me-a-brewski dumbness." Even the album's covers of much-loved nuggets from The Ramones, Primal Scream, and The Godfathers sound like my uncle Ken's Nirvana cover band, Heart Shaped ROX, on an off night. ADAM GNADE



GARAGE A TROIS, THE BAD PLUS
(Crystal) Unfortunately, one of this year's most promising new avant-garde collectives has saddled itself with an unappealing name. Despite its pun-drunk moniker, Garage A Trois is no slop-rock slouch. On the group's debut disc, Galactic drummer Stanton Moore, guitarist Charlie Hunter, saxophonist Skerik and percussionist Mike Dillon concoct riveting instrumental tunes that could make an endless jam session seem like paradise. GAT's similarly singer-free tourmate Bad Plus attracted attention with its incendiary version of "Smells Like Teen Spirit," but that's not its only compelling cover. The jazz trio gets rough with Blondie's "Heart of Glass," shattering the pristine pace and dragging the melody over the jagged shards until it's mutilated. By contrast, it coddles Aphex Twin's "Flim," thawing its icy electronic casing with warm grooves. AM



HOLLY GOLIGHTLY, KO & THE KNOCKOUTS, STARANTULA
(Dante's) See Music pg 29



AB RUDE AND ABSTRACT TRIBE UNIQUE WITH DJ DREZ, ONRY OZZBORN, SLEEP, SUNSPOT JONZ, DJ WELLS
(Meow Meow) See My What a Busy Week pg 25



Q AND NOT U, BLACK EYES
(Nocturnal) See My What a Busy Week pg 25



SUNDAY 9/28

INTERPOL, THE STILLS, RATATAT
(Crystal) See MWBW pg 25



BLUCHRIS, ALDEN, FORREST AVERY, RAVI
(1201) Something totally awesome happened the last time I was at the 1201, but unfortunately I cannot talk about it. Ravi will make something mellow and downbeat yet danceable happen at the 1201 tonight. KS



PARISIAN STREET DANCE STARRING ROUGE
(Viscount, 722 E Burnside) Have fun and learn new skills! Francophiles, take heed, because tonight you can learn the ancient art of Parisian street dancing, which is apparently more complex than weaving through an alleyway with your fly undone. It's basically like waltzing, and after you learn how to do it, you get to put it into practice with the Euro-cabaret tunes of Rouge. Think accordions and fiddles. MS



MONDAY 9/29

FROM AUTUMN TO ASHES, CAVE-IN, EVERYTIME I DIE, FUNERAL FOR A FRIEND
(Aladdin) When Cave-In traded their screamo hoodies for prog-rock denim, us kids loved every damn minute of it. Jupiter (Hydrahead) was the stellar result of hardcore-gone-prog, but without all the guitarstrabation that usually comes with the genre. But with Antenna, Cave-In has soured and made that terrible major-label debut record you hope a band never makes. Previously, it seemed they were only dipping their toe in the crossover waters, but now they've gone all the way, diving in headfirst and drowning all credibility. EAC



GET HUSTLE, THE VANISHING, HOLY KISS, ICE MACHINE
(Stumptown Downtown, 128 SW 3rd) In retrospect, not only is Get Hustle's devastating, dark quasi-cabaret some of the most interesting music I can think of, but if you turn off the volume, their subtle dramatic physical interplay could totally be the choreography for a minimalist dance performance. Call me tainted by the Time-Based Arts fest or something, but whatevs--their simultaneously jerky, fluid, rhythmic movements add as much to the performance as their hypnotic beats, or space used for effect. Speaking of performance, seeing local goths Ice Machine is like looking down a wind tunnel and finding evil Narnia. JS



TUESDAY 9/30

STOP IT!!!, LIFE AT THESE SPEEDS, LIGHT IN THE ATTIC
(Den of Leroy, 4126 N Commercial, 7 pm, $3 ) Word to the PDX basement show, where the punk is dark as earth and the intentions are light as glistening morning dew. Stop It!!!!-- being from Richmond, VA, and featuring members of hardcore legends Pg. 99--will inspire palpitations, with their noisy excursions into guitar drama, and power-drumming. Also, welcome shredding PDX punx Life at these Speeds back from their West Coast tour with Jonny X. JS



THROWBACK TUESDAYS STARRING THE EVIL ONE
(East) Most people put their favorite hiphop years as somewhere between '84-'94É the "Golden Years," as it were, when Run DMC propelled rap into the limelight and everything being created seemed completely fresh, because it was--everyone (who lasted, anyway) was innovating, creating a new culture as it grew up. Throw it back, then, with DJ The Evil One, who gets retarded on the Golden Era and shit before you were born. He gets retarded on shit from before he was born. Spoonie G? De La Soul? Big Daddy Kane? What! JS



WEDNESDAY 10/1

CAPTURED! BY ROBOTS, KNIGHT BADGER, PASHA, BRINDEL
(Ash Street) I guess I've been living in a cave or something, but it was only in the last couple weeks that I learned Captured! By Robots is not just another cutesy band name, but a LITERAL DESCRIPTION of the group! The band's lone human, "JBOT," created the robots in 1996 because he couldn't get along with human bandmates. The robots immediately, well, captured him, and now tour the country, forcing him to front the band while they play the music. People, there is an actual musical group of robots in this world, and you tell me NOW!? The last seven years of my life are LOST because of your negligence! JWS



JET, THE ORANGES BAND, DURANGO PARK
(Berbati's) Like nomads in the desert, The Oranges Band has been on tour pretty much since their inception in the year 2000. Lead singer Roman Kuebler has occasionally pulled double duty, playing in the punk band The Thumbs, and hitting the road to play bass for Spoon. In the Oranges, Kuebler writes haiku-type music; songs that are short, simple, and structured in a canonic rock tradition that stretches all the way back to Buddy Holly. The band propels these songs (like booster engines on the space shuttle) with a rhythm guitar ménage à trois. And while you might find Oranges' songs to be homogeneous, their records are like a bag of tasty Mini Muffins. Each track is small and delicious and before you know it you've consumed the whole thing. S "T" L



POL POP DANCE PARTY:
(Crystal) See MWBW pg 25, DJ Bio pg 41



ROOTS OF ORCHIS, TALKDEMONIC, AUDIENT
(Holocene) Roots of Orchis chimes and drawls instrumentally, flirting with burbling triphop magic, Never Ending Story-style dreamscapes, and pothead jazz. It's seductive, acidy, delicate sometimes--and a downright drum-circle groove at others. But here's the kicker: "Orchis" means testicles. Balls. Nards. Which just goes to show their inventions are rooted in trying new shit, ballsy-ness, not being afraid to make their keyboards sound like a boiling tea kettle or delve into soupy psych-prog waters. ADAM GNADE



SCOUT NIBLETT
(Jackpot Downtown) Scout Niblett--player of rock music--is young, female, and mildly eccentric. And, like every other woman in this less-than enviable position, the Nottingham native is nearly universally equated with another artist for which these vague attributes hold: one Chan Marshall. Which is a shame. Scout Niblett's music is, by comparison, an incredibly confident affair--as clearly evidenced, even in title, by her remarkable sophomore effort I Am. An assurance recalling that of early PJ Harvey--the band before the solo act--an alignment benefited in no small part, I imagine, by the knob-twiddling of Steve Albini. Close your eyes, and it's 1993 all over again--and I can't think of a higher compliment. ZAC PENNINGTON