THURSDAY 4/29

TARA JANE O'NEIL, ANTIETAM, DAVIES VS. DRESCH
(Nocturnal, 1800 W Burnside) Old-school shiznit tonight. Antietam's a Southern indie rock band that influenced some of your favorites, like Yo La Tengo and Dinosaur Jr. They're touring behind their first record in 10 years (!), Victory Park; recorded at an East Coast beach house, where the Atlantic's ocean waves crashed dreamily behind Tara Key's electric guitar work. JUSTIN WESCOAT SANDERS



THE DWARVES, DEADBOLT, FANG, OPPRESSED LOGIC, TATTOOED CORPSE
(Sabala's at Mt Tabor, 4811 SE Hawthorne) Actual shit, too many women and free cocaine: of all the bands once on Sub Pop who shoulda auto-destructed, died, or ended up in jailÉ years agoÉ the DWARVES are still with us! I remember seeing 'em in DC in '90, they scared the crap outta everybodyÉ especially after Blag pinned down, then sat on, some poor girl's chest, while slapping her face... in time with the beat. Their shows of the last few years are still a spectacle of genitals and blood but they seem a little less... I dunno, threatening than they usta be. They ARE playing with a bunch of Teddies, DeadboltÉ so I figger you still might wanna wear your moshin' boots.... and your mouth guard. Lord knows what could happen! MIKE NIPPER



SKELETON COAST, SEX WITH GIRLS, SPIDERS ON SPIDERS
(Meow Meow, 320 SE 2nd) It's so high school, but James Squeaky just can't resist sticking by the name of his concept band, Sex with Girls (formerly Sex with Girls is Rad), just because certain P.C. cops suspect Squeaky and co-founder Alex Merrill of sexism. "The original idea was to have a band from the perspective of 15- or 16-year-old boys with this crazy compulsive nature in regards to crushes," says Squeaky. "We were trying to capture that energy of being so uncontrollably crushed out--so desperate you can't think of anything else, but at same time not knowing what it means to be in a relationship." That concept, like a genuine teen, eventually got old, but the allure of pushing buttons has kept SWG chugging, although the songs have evolved beyond David Bowie covers and odes to Trader Joe's to Bikini Kill covers and indictments of McDonald's. And does Squeaky's girlfriend take the SWG name to heart? "No," the Southeast Portland resident says. "She just thinks it's silly." KIMBERLY CHUN



STARANTULA, ORDER OF THE VULTURE, THE BOOTHS, GHOST MOTOR
(IC Mummy, 332 NE San Rafael) What goes great with a heavy dose of bravado? Keyboard funk and costumes, of course. See Seantos, lead singer of Starantula, strut his stuff, sing all slutty, and make you want to drink and party. The Booths will blow your friggin' eardrums out, so bring some earplugs. I promise, you won't look like a pussy. KATIE SHIMER



JAMMOTRON, DJ WEEGEE, PGE, DJ GINSU
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) "Electro Physics" as in "plugging in the beats": tonight's DJs and live act (PGE, aka Portland General Electro) tantalize the hot motion with all manner of electro. Whether old, new, or _hop, it's the music whose dancefloor charge is mainly sexual. Conveniently, this month's installation in The Ho.'s smoking room features technology-themed art, for your frantically futuristic, sloppy make-out/smoking ambiance. JULIANNE SHEPHERD



INVISIBLE, STARS OF TRACK AND FIELD, CLEMENTE, THE CLOSE
(Berbati's, 231 SE Ankeny) Invisible plays straight-up gorgeous electric rock ditties. There is no pretension here, but sweet, rhythmic hooks, earnest lyrics, and soaring violin strains, which are rarely, if ever, not a good call. JWS



FRIDAY 4/30

MINIBOSSES, VINFIZ
(Ground Kontrol, 610 SW 12th; Sat 5/1 at Renn Fayre, Reed College) See Music pg 21



URGE OVERKILL, BLOOM, THE LAST VEGAS
(Berbati's, 231 SW Ankeny) It was just fine when Urge Overkill was but a memory, but here they are again, and with mostly crappy records to promote. Irony only works in spare amounts, and despite Nash Kato's excellent horse face, it's way past time for the glue factory, boys. KATHLEEN WILSON



STRATEGY, NICE NICE, DJS BRIAN FOOTE, HERMANITO, NO BABY MOM
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) See Music pg 21



THE EPOXIES, STATCHES, BROKEN BOTTLES, THE PUNK GROUP, THE GAYS
(Sabala's, 4811 SE Hawthorne) Portland's beloved, maniacally fun spaceship new-wave duct-tapextravaganza The Epoxies NEVER play here, because they're so in demand everywhere else. With a freshly inked deal with Fat Wreck Chords, it's such a super treat that they'll be throwing down in their hometown--and at the newly revamped Sabala's, even, during their hippie exorcism. I can't think of a better band to eradicate patchouli than one accompanied by so much fog machine. JS



SATYRICON, MORBID ANGEL, SUFFOCATION, PREMONITIONS OF WAR
(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) Satyricon (not the club--the band) are one of Norway's best, oldest, and least prolific black metal bands. These grimm warriors have set the standard for blinding sub-arctic metal alongside bands-at-arms Emperor and Enslaved. In fact, on this tour, drummer Frost was denied a US visa and world-class skinsman Trym (Emperor, Enslaved, Zyklon) is a replacement worthy of many a raised mead horn. Morbid Angel still wear the death metal crown and the recently reunited Suffocation seem to be everyone's second favorite reason to be talking about this show. Premonitions of War apparently bring their nu-school metalcore along to make the other three bands sound even better. NATHAN CARSON



YOUR VOTE ON THE ROCKS: AVENUE OF THE STRONGEST, SLACKJAW, SILVER SURFER, COURAGE
(Tonic, 3100 NE Sandy) Voter apathy, obviously, is the unsexiest thing ever. Voting is hot. Voting against Bush is even hotter. Registering people to vote in bars, with a rocking local rock show to boot, is not just pushing the legal levels of caliente, but also such a Portland thing to do. Vote on the Rocks beckons with promises of voting booths, and you don't even have to get off your barstool. JS



DAN JONES
(Hotel Oregon, 310 NE Evans, McMinnville) Smash your head on the acoustic punk rock. Diehard fans of Dan Jones' debut, For Your Radio, may miss the days when the Eugene singer-songwriter would ply his Cormac McCarthy-inspired stories with simply an acoustic guitar. But considering that this working-stiff songsmith has always had a jones for rocked-up stuff like the Who, Hüsker Dü, and Guided By Voices, it's little wonder that Jones eventually turned to solo electric guitar. Back when the self-described eccentric started playing open mics seven years ago, Jones says, "The singer-songwriter role was all I could manage. I was too shy to play with other people so I just started with acoustic guitars, wishing it was a band. It's been a process of getting out of isolation, musically, which has been pretty hard in a way, because I'm just a nervous Nelly." Jones recently popped out of his shell with an alternately roots and rocking second album, One Man Submarine (Leisure King Productions), and a genuine, full-fledged indie-rock band, the Squids. KIMBERLY CHUN



SATURDAY 5/1

TIX GO ON SALE FOR PRINCE'S MUSICOLOGY TOUR TODAY, DUDES
(Rose Garden on Wed Sept 1; call Ticketmaster at 224-4400)



MONEEN, NORTHSTAR, PARK, THE FIGHT
(Solid State, 221 SE 9th) Since the recent release of their second album, Pollyanna, New York's Northstar are constantly being compared to Brand New, probably because their former labelmates also released a debut pop-punkish record and then followed it up with a sophomore release that was supposedly evidence of the band's growth and maturity (with more advanced compositions and less typical lyrics). The difference is that I really like Brand New's sophomore release, Deja Entendu. Jesse Lacey has a way with words, and the whole record feels more sincere than an attempt to cash in on the new wave of this whole post-punk/emo/screamo/call-it-whatever-you-want trend. Pollyanna, on the other hand, feels more like a desperate attempt to fit in. The songs are mainly about girls, backed with very mechanical and average songwriting. Yawn. I feel like a jerk for saying it, but if Pollyanna is Northstar's Deja Entendu, it sounds like they got stuck with all of Brand New's sloppy seconds. MEGAN SELING



RON JEREMY
(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) At the last Ron Jeremy event in Portland he wore fancy costumes, made bad jokes, acted "familiar" with hot girls on stage, played carnival games, and touched Marjorie Skinner's ass. This outing should be much the same, the legend looking like a mack daddy (sorta), and you out there hypnotized by fake boobs. Also, enjoy the screaming fun of adult trivia (topics not suitable for children) and porno karaoke, which is where they turn on a porno, turn off the sound, and you make up what the people are saying. Should be pretty funny. KS



BROTHER ALI, VAST AIRE, IMMORTAL TECHNIQUE
(Crystal, 1332 W Burnside) Dropping political rhetoric that's far from heretic, Immortal Technique's Revolutionary Vol. 2 has kept the on-point emcee in the starting slot for revolutionary, ferociously independent political hiphop. Forced from his home of Peru by civil war in the '80s and raised in Harlem, Immortal Technique seethes with the venom of a man bullied by injustice, and spends his words on knowledge just as fiercely ("fuck a record deal/ I want development land"). Album guests not only include the expected--Jean Grae, Akir, C-Rayz Walz, DJ Roc Raida--but also Mumia Abu Jamal, himself. Phrases such as, "You think illuminati's just a fuckin conspiracy theory?/ That's why conservative racists are all runnin' shit/ And your phone is tapped by the Federal Government" make even Dead Prez seem like mushy bananas. JS See Music pg 22



GRANT LEE PHILLIPS, MARCUS EATON
(Berbati's, 231 SW Ankeny) Grant-Lee Phillips is a rarity: a prolific songwriter who maintains an amazingly high level of quality on virtually every song. He's also got a pretty interesting musical style, though it may not appeal to everyone. Somehow, the guy manages to combine U2-style vocalizations with Americana-style twang. He's like the love child of Bono and Gillian Welch. JWS



HIGH ON FIRE, HONKEY, JJ PARADISE, PLAYERS CLUB, THE BULEMICS
(Sabala's Mt. Tabor, 4811 SE Hawthorne) There's no fat around the muscle of High on Fire's music. Of course you'd expect nothing less from frontman Matt Pike, formerly of doom-metal behemoth Sleep, as he gives the tempos a kick from his last band's sludge stupor without sacrificing that heavy, sharp sound. HoF's riffs and beats build an ominous temple of apocalyptic metal, from which Pike occasionally emerges to roar a few gruff passages from on high. The dynamic trio is unwavering in their agenda to keep metal distilled to the dregs of its most unpretentious core, and for that excellent reason they've got a sound and following that's unparalleled. JENNIFER MAERZ



SUNDAY 5/2

METAMORPHOSE: QUEER NIGHT
(Madame Butterfly, 425 SW Stark) It's a big mistake to assume that high-powered dance music fits every queer occasion, or that the mating-ritual rhythm of Top 40 hits will inevitably draw a gay crowd to your doorstep. This is the mistake of Madame Butterfly's Queer Night, Metamorphose (the menu insists on the pronunciation me'tu'mor'FO'zay'). The cozy, low-lit space would be perfect for intimate conversation and a set of laid-back, subtle sounds, rather than the blaring, offensive pop remixes spun by the DJ. There's no room to dance, so there's no room for dance music; right now, Madame Butterfly just seems to be jumping on the queer moneybags bandwagon, unfurling the rainbow flag and waiting for a flock of club-fairies to twirl in. They're trying too hard to be QUEER. To its favor, the servers were attentive and kind, and the menu features happy-hour priced drinks (including a generous bottle of sake for $6) and delicious Japanese snacks. Madame Butterfly is simply not a dance club, and if that's the only marketing strategy they have to attract homos then they're grossly underestimating the market value of the Sunday-night queer looking for a place to chill the fuck out. EVAN JAMES



MONDAY 5/3

SNOW PATROL, CARINA ROUND
(Berbati's, 231 SE Ankeny) See Music pg 22



MORSE CODE HEARTBEAT, MUSTAPHAMOND, LIFE AT THESE SPEEDS, THEY FOUND MY NAKED CORPSE FACE DOWN IN THE SNOW
(Meow Meow, 320 SE 2nd)

Morse Code Heartbeat's fruity name sure doesn't make me think METAL, but the chaos, frenzy, and vocal ferocity sure will. I was going to make some grandiose analogy about how pregnant women seem peaceful, yet seeing one really means there'll be another screaming brat at Safeway, but it didn't really work. So I gave up. They Found My Naked Corpse Face Down in the Snow gets points for name originality while Life at These Speeds gets points for playing fun-ass hardcore. KS



ATREYU, FROM AUTUMN TO ASHES, THE BREAK, RED TAPE
(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) What does the name Atreyu say to you? Dramatic? Tortured? Boy? Band? Well you got it, toots. Screaming guitars, screaming boys, climactic piano playing and guitar solos, crescendos, and in the end, hardcore that's accessible to the masses. KS



TUESDAY 5/4

TOOTS & THE MAYTALS
(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) See MWBW pg 19



OF MONTREAL, THE MINDERS, BLUE SKIES FOR BLACK HEARTS
(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) Satanic Panic in the Attic is the latest from Athens, Georgia-based Of Montreal, and what a curve ball the band has thrown with a mix of trippy '70s beats and '80s new wave. They've gone all electroclash without losing any of the pretty pop, no doubt due to their strong Beatles influences. The Minders' new album, The Future's Always Perfect, is not quite perfect, but poppy enough to make the Portland band's latest fine enough to put a smile on your face. KATHLEEN WILSON



WEDNESDAY 5/5

THE MISFATS, COURTESY CLERKS, LOS ROCKTARDOS
(Twilight, 1420 SE Powell) In this epoch of nudge-nudge, wink-wink tribute bands, starting with Dread Zepplin and including such luminaries as a hugely beer-gutted Texas band called Fat Halen, comes another for the running roster. Ready? It's the Misfats. Yep; all fat guys doing Misfits covers and changing the Misfits' morbid B-movie lyrics to morbid lyrics about morbid food and morbid eating. Will the ultra-derivative fun never end? P.S. The opening band has a guy named "Ron Topofyou." LANCE CHESS



MYSTERIOUS ACTOR PLAYERS WITH SLEEP, FRED TRUJILLO
(Ash Street, 225 SW Ash) The Mysterious Actor Players host a special Cinco de Mayo ensemble with two of Portland's fave Latino musicians: Oldominion emcee Sleep, and bassist Fred Trujillo. It'll surely be zany and totally hilarious! (But if they make any Vice-style ironic race humor jokes, by the way, sock 'em in the belly.) Afterwards, go eat a bunch of mole (the best kind has tripe) and barf on the rides at the Waterfront. JS



DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE, BEN KWELLER, THE THERMALS
(Crystal, 1332 W Burnside) If you just bought that corduroy blazer you've long since had your eye on, well, here's your chance to floss it. Death Cab For Cutie have spent the past seven months since the release of their strongest yet most overrated album, 2003's Transatlanticism, becoming a footnote in Fox programming and an entry in Jimmy Iovine's Blackberry, but their performance tonight shouldn't be all that different from those in years past, just with more piano. Debuting songs from their soon-to-be-released sophomore disc Fuckin' A, the Thermals are reason enough to show up early (especially if you still pine for records with names like Zen Arcade or Sebadoh III) and it's apparent that their tall-can, thrash pop has suddenly gotten sharper around the edges. Then there's the night's unlikely headliner Ben Kweller: with his ominously titled sophomore disc On My Way, he's just started singing like McCartney, but with a cynic's glare he still looks and sounds like a 12-year-old. On your way where, dude? TREVOR KELLEY