THURSDAY 6/16

THE BATS FROM THE PYRAMIDS OF EGYPT, THE SNUGGLE UPS, DAT'R, DJ INVISIBOY (Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Oppressively self-promoting--especially for a band that's not half bad--the good-natured folks of Bats From the Pyramids of Egypt celebrate the release of their brand new, action packed debut Zombiance. Indie pop hiding behind vague allusions of New Wave--keyboard blips and squeaks seeping through the sort of largely inoffensive rock music you probably (and rightly) have padding out your CD collection--the Bats may not be high art, but they seem to know how to move your ass a bit. But don't take my word for it: go to the show, and they'll give you a copy to take home. ZAC PENNINGTON

CASIOTONE FOR THE PAINFULLY ALONE, P:ANO (Acme, 1305 SE 8th) See Music, pg 13

EELS (Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) When I was in high school I discovered the Eels' incredibly personal album Electro-Shock Blues, and it quickly became one of my favorite things. Ever. Since then, raspy-voiced frontman E has been slipshod, dabbling in different styles and volume levels with a persistence bordering on the annoying. He's never come close to moving me like he did then, but he remains a dynamic performer, joking relentlessly with the crowd and audience in between songs about his mother dying of cancer and other heartbreaking topics. The dichotomy is jarring, but riveting. JUSTIN WESCOAT SANDERS

FALL OF THE BASTARDS, TORMENTIUM, PANZER GOD, MADE OUT OF BABIES (Sabala's Mt Tabor, 4811 SE Hawthorne) See Music, pg 15

GLASS CANDY, VERONICA LIPGLOSS (Towne Lounge, 714 SW 20th Place) See My, What a Busy Week! pg 11

LONGWAVE, STARS OF TRACK & FIELD, CLIMBER (Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) New York's Longwave are a classic, celestial pop band whose 2002 release The Strangest Things, produced by Dave Fridmann (Flaming Lips, Sleater-Kinney) is one of the more enchanting My Bloody Valentine-inuenced creations out there. I've yet to hear their latest release in its entirety, but the fact that it was produced by John Leckie--the man responsible for Radiohead's The Bends--is a Fine sign that we're in for more good things. HANNAH LEVIN

SPOON, THE CLIENTELE (Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) See My, What a Busy Week! pg 11

FRIDAY 6/17

DIGABLE PLANETS, CROWN CITY ROCKERS, THEINCREDIBLEKID, DJ ANJALI (Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) Digable Planets music reminds me of 1996 when I spent all my time sitting on the couch smoking weed with my roommate Jay, arguing about whether Phish was a good band (Digable Planets was a stoner-music compromise). Of course, Phish isn't really related to Digable Planets now seemingly outdated jazz-hiphop fusion music, other than both bands now only seem relevant in my fond memories of having no responsibility and tons of time to pull tubes. KATIE SHIMER

EMBRACE, LONGVIEW, AUGUSTANA (Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E Burnside) Deemed irrelevant two years ago on their home soil and just now seeing release in the States, Embrace's Out Of Nothing sounds a lot like Coldplay--whose disgustingly famous singer hand delivered to them "Gravity," one of the record's better tracks. Once modest heroes to late '90s England, Embrace's verses always sound like choruses and the choruses always sound like the Himalayas. TREVOR KELLEY

FUTUREHEADS, OXFORD COLLAPSE, THE NARRATOR, HIGH SPEED SCENE (Loveland, 320 SE 2nd Ave) You've got to give the Futureheads credit for getting so far with such a stupid name. Next to Franz Ferdinand, who are their closest rivals, they've rolled off of the UK music-industry machine of successful garage-rock and post-punk revivals by skipping ahead to clipped, Joe Jackson/Elvis Costello new-wave pop. Does it make them a transition point from a transatlantic Detroit fetish to something quintessentially British and new? Probably. While it's hard to get very excited about Futureheads' music, the Northeastern England almost-a-cappella harmonies at which they're quite good ("Doo-doo, doo-doo-doo") set them apart just enough to remember where you're eventually going to pack them away. GUY FAWKES

KILL MEMORY CRASH, JERRY ABSTRACT, DEREK FISHER, THEPERFECTCYN, LET'S GO OUTSIDE (Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Chicago duo Kill Memory Crash forge a sinewy brand of industrial/EBM that can appeal to both techno and IDM heads--a rare feat. Their second album, American Automatic (Ghostly International), vastly improves on KMC's 2003 debut, When the Blood Turns Black. KMC's beats are danceoor-ready and the textures crunchy and warped enough to curl Richard Devine fans' toes. They're one of the few groups to work the malevolent-robot shtick without sounding like nimrods. DAVE SEGAL

STEPHEN MALKMUS AND THE JICKS, MARTHA WAINWRIGHT (Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) See My, What a Busy Week! pg 11, CD Review pg 13

RILO KILEY, FEIST, THE BRUNETTES (Roseland, 8 NW 6th) See My, What a Busy Week! pg 13

SYNDEL, SANTOTZIN, SIDEWAYZ SPEECH, TRASH HEAP, KABLE ROK (Conan's, 3862 SE Hawthorne) Santotzin's got a chorus that goes, "Get the fuck up/Support local hip-hop," plus it's his birthday tonight, so give him a pound and a present once he finishes his set--that is, if he's still able to talk after the twisters he spits over refreshingly playful, surprisingly-not-seasonally-affected beats. Syndel, MC of Oldominion and Siren's Echo, headlines solo--which, with her formidable flow and deeply serious voice, is a snap. That vocal timbre is a dart-thrower and a secret weapon; the sharp alto makes any criticism she might level seem that much more for-real. JULIANNE SHEPHERD

SATURDAY 6/18

KEREN ANN (Blue Monk, 3341 SE Belmont) The belle of Manhattan's fancy Nolita neighborhood, as the title of her fourth album Nolita implies (!), French-Israeli/part-time New Yorker Keren Ann sings gentle, dreamy love songs, partly en francais in a longing resonant alto. If they filmed a remake of Breakfast at Tiffany's, god forbid, Keren'd be the one tapped to sing "Moon River" on the ledge out the window. Nolita's on Blue Note Records, but more classic Fraunch than standard jazz; she could probably play Holly Golightly, too, a heart-melter who plucks her acoustic guitar, bats eyes and whiffs charm to her audience as if she were breathing milkweed into a gentle breeze. Sorry if that sounds overblown, but her music is indeed that iconic and timeless, plus she totally gets a real-deal pass cause she actually grew up in Paris. Hang onto your romantic and/or Francophile boyfriend. JS

ENON, THUNDERBIRDS ARE NOW!, SPARROW (Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E Burnside) It's totally a testament to Enon's popularity that they don't release shit for years and then tour behind a rarities comp and people don't get pissed. These are things we should hold bands accountable for. It's a cop out. Unless they're Enon, in which case whatever they shit and spit our way is tenfold hotter than anything their peers are going all Brian Wilson loony in the sandbox to finish off. Lost Marbles and Exploded Evidence is internet-exclusive songs, tracks from magazine comp CDs, singles, B-sides, and a buncha stuff you've probably never heard. Spanning four line-ups, it's a full on, wild-eyed Journey of Natty Gann through the band's career, with funky cyber jams, normalish indierock, experimental, jet set, trash, lo-fi, pop--you name it. ADAM GNADE

PETE MISER, MANIC D & FOGATRON, RAMSEY BROTHERS, CAC (Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) Stop if you've heard this one--but back in the day, PDX native Peter Ho AKA Pete Miser headed up a filthy live act called Five Fingers Of Funk. After the Fingers dropped two heavy platters (Slap Me Five and About Time), Pete delivered the solo What It Be--all on his own Ho-Made Media label. He then moved to NYC, and dropped the dope Radio Free Brooklyn. Somewhere along the line, he became the tour DJ for Brit balladeer Dido as well as the Cure and Faithless(!)--which is probably what led to his shaky "Immature" cover for a Bjork tribute album--but don't hate, cuz last year's Camouflage Is Relative was bangin. Pete's resume mos definitely marks him as one of the most intriguing Northwest-bred b-boys around… Welcome the boy home, y'all. LARRY MIZELL JR.

SAN SERAC, PUFF PUFF GIVE (Ozone O3, 701 E Burnside) A early in-store from "one man disco" San Serac, a man who lists Shalamar and Pet Shop Boys as reference points, and who is so slickly '80s he should've soundtracked all of Tubbs's spit-swapping scenes on Miami Vice. JENNIFER MAERZ

SHOW ME THE PINK, VCR (CO7, SE 7th & Harrison) Up until now, the summer has been pretty warm. But tonight, Show Me The Pink will make it HOT. The HOTness I'm talking about is of the "have you seen them yet?" variety. Why all the excitement? Because, unlike many of the detached and debauched art-school projects from New York/London/Berlin that promised expensive drugs and cheap thrills, SMTP actually delivers something way more elusive and desirable--FUN! Though "for-realness" is difficult to quantify, the enthusiasm with which they perform should leave no doubt in even the most hardened hater's heart that this bomb combo has more than most. Tonight is their last show for a long time as the band plans to make a baby and a record. I bet both will be awesome! KIP BERMAN

S.T.R.E.E.T.S., DARK SKIES, BIRDS OF WAR (Sabala's Mt Tabor, 4811 SE Hawthorne) See Once More With Feeling, pg 31

SUNDAY 6/19

APOSTLE OF HUSTLE, BINARY DOLLS, LACK THEREOF (Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E Burnside) See CD Review, pg 13

CHURCH OF PSYCHEDELIA FEATURING WORLD, FRONT MACHINE, DJ WHITE SHEIK, PHILLIP COOPER (Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) The members of Portland's rather surprisingly small psyche community shuffle around once again for another go at free cosmic love. Tonight's performers include the borderless sounds of World--featuring returning parishioners Adam Forkner (White Rainbow) and Honey Owens (Nudge)--as well as Front Machine (whose membership features folks from Point Line Plane and alumni of Super Sprite), and visuals by former Sensualist Phillip Cooper. ZP

THEY SHOOT HORSES DON'T THEY?, SYNTAX ERROR, BRAINHOLE (Porky's, 835 N Lombard) Remember the children's classic Toby Tyler, or Ten Weeks with a Circus, about a little boy who runs away to join the big top? Vancouver, BC septet They Shoot Horses Don't They? sound like the band young Toby might have assembled if he'd gone on to art school after his three-ring stint; think !!! for the polka--not post-punk--set, with lots of almost cacophonous percussion, chanted vocals, and oom-pah brass. Their eponymous four-song EP mesmerizes, but they're best experienced live, especially when jumbo-sized keyboard player Chris makes like a carnival strong man and carries other band members around on his back. KURT B. REIGHLEY

MONDAY 6/20

THE MOUNTAIN GOATS, THE DOUBLE, SARAH DOUGHER (Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E Burnside) See Music, pg 13

THE PINK SNOWFLAKES, THE HIGH VIOLETS, THE GREY DATURAS (Tonic Lounge, 3100 NE Sandy Blvd) Grey Daturas are an instrumental art-rock trio from Melbourne, Australia. Their eclectic album Dead in the Woods has a pleasant live production that displays spastic noise, repetitive rock riffing, and tranquil layers of feedback experimentation. The problem is that every jam seems only half-realized, primarily due to the fact that the band is improvising at all times, and according to their bio, no two shows are ever the same. I'll grant that extreme volumes (and heavy drugs) would probably make the concert experience much more engaging than this record. But hearing this reminds mostly of Lee Renaldo without the spoken word, the most plodding moments of Dead Meadow, and the artistic laziness of the Dandy Warhols. NATHAN CARSON

TUESDAY 6/21

DADA SWING, ROLLERBALL, HIGH DIALS (Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) See My, What a Busy Week! pg 11

WEDNESDAY 6/22

LAST OF THE JUANITAS CD RELEASE FEATURING …WORMS, SCIENCE OF YABRA, BOOK OF MAPS (Sabala's Mt Tabor, 4811 SE Hawthorne) Doomy locals Last of the Juanitas are releasing a full-length, In The Dark, tonight, and it's time to break out the one-hitter. Full of moody, ponderous episodes of pulsing guitar broken up by the occasionally jammier punk rock outburst or distant, ethereal sounding vocals (the Juanitas have two singers: Maurice, the guitar player, and Lana, the bass player. While her voice is sweet, it's not stunning, but it's more effective than the bland, Thurston Moore-ish deadpan of her bandmate). The songs do tend to blend into one another, but if intense, stoney, ominous mood music is your thing, you'll eat it up like puddin'. MARJORIE SKINNER

THE HEARTLESS BASTARDS, HILLSTOMP, THE BAD THINGS (Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E Burnside) The last time I saw the Heartless Bastards they played before the Hold Steady to a roomful of big name New York City rock critics--all seemingly waiting for Craig Finn to come out, do his record store clerk-as-ironic rock star bit, and more or less assure that Almost Killed Me's spot near the top of their Pazz And Jop ballots hadn't grown regrettable. These people, for different reasons, are complete dipshits. Released quietly this past February, Stairs And Elevators, the Bastards' debut is likely to make a similar impression come 2005's end; it's the sound of the early '90s being dragged into the future (and, possibly, the past) by singer Erika Wennerstrom's lonesome range and her lyrics' timeless charm. No one is likely to make a better Smiths reference this year than Wennerstrom--and that's saying something. TREVOR KELLEY

NAPPY ROOTS (Barracuda, 9 NW 2nd) Kentucky's Nappy Roots were an unexpectedly huge success story back in '02--their smash hit "Aw Naw" earning them a platinum plaque for Watermelon Chicken & Grits (which, according to Atlantic, was the best selling rap LP that year). However, their superior follow up Wooden Leather just didn't hold heads' attention; perhaps due to the famous fickleness of rap fans, or maybe the fact that their initial splash came a nappy hair before crunk became as ubiquitous as Air Jordans. To add insult to injury, the six-man crew has had to watch formerly unidentifiable video guests Jazze Pha and Anthony Hamilton became iconic while your average 106th & Park-er couldn't identify a single one of them. It's a shame, 'cuz their engaging everyman personas and soulful steez make them one of the most honestly refreshing crews of the last few years… Somebody get Kanye on the line. LARRY MIZELL JR.

SECRET PUPPETS, GHOST TO FALCO, SEX WITH GIRLS (Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) See My, What a Busy Week! pg 11

LUCINDA WILLIAMS, JOHN DOE (Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) Lucinda was lucky to receive the commercial and critical success she did with 1998's Carwheels on a Gravel Road, and most likely never will again. She's just too unmarketable is the thing. Her folky, twangy rock somehow exudes both trailer park and PhD in literature, a combination that somehow doesn't have MTV clamoring for a video spot. The fact that she has accumulated the enormous fanbase she has is an amazing example of sheer talent winning out over aesthetic appeal and coolness. JWS