KLEZMATICS Wonder Ballroom, 12/13 Joshua Kessler


(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) If you're young and you're reading this thinking, "I've never seen Dead Moon before. I wonder what they're like. I heard they're really old," then it's time for you to panhandle five bucks and go immerse yourself in Portland's answer to the beckoning of howling wolves, raw life, and the night. If you're old and you're reading this thinking, "I haven't seen Dead Moon since 1992, but I hardly go out any more so it's not personal. Oops! I think I need to change my Depends," then it's time to get off your ass and get out because you're only half Toody & Fred's age and they're rocking into the uncertain future with the feverish abandon of WWII kamikaze pilots. LANCE CHESS



(Acme, 1305 SE 8th) I remember hearing somewhere that if you played music to your houseplants, they would grow bigger and greener because of it. There were records that you could buy specifically for this cause, and it sounded quite a bit like elevator music to my human ear. Hey, I'm not a plant; it might be the most stimulating thing our green little house friends have ever heard. Now, I have a theory. Perhaps WE ALSO need Plants to grow bigger and fuller and more self-actualized. Portland's Plants are just the cure for our stunted growth. Their rain-induced psychedelia is at times as monumentous as a passionate raga, as soothing as a 100-year-old bedtime lullaby, and if you close your eyes and listen closely, you will gather from your limbs and the roots of your hair that you are growing. Can you feel it—in your arms, your legs, and your subconscious? A tripped-out theory, but check back with me on this one. I think I'm on to something. SALINA NUÑEZ


(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) It has been a supreme treat these past few months to watch local singer/songwriter Corrina Repp's star rise (and rise and rise and rise). Her smart, hyper-literate folk-pop (and possibly pop-folk) has always deserved attention, but until just recently she's been nothing more than our little secret—and, honestly, don't we love our little secrets more than anything? Then comes Pitchfork, the grand culmination of Repp's recent rise, touting her record, The Absent and the Distant, as the bee's knees and sending music fans flocking to her MySpace page. Yup, 'bout time! Now, Norfolk and Western, I must admit, are far too vanilla and stiff for my tastes. Go for the Weinland, stay for the Repp. PETER DAVIS See Music, pg. 38.


(Wonder Ballroom, 128 NE Russell) I don't know much about this Jonathan Rice character, but the boy better consider himself charmed to wind up on this bill. Jenny Lewis' pop-gone-gospel-gone-country-gone-whatever is a spirited batch of modern sounds, old-timey flourishes, and smart lyrics that put her right up there with the Obersts, Newsoms, and Destroyers of the literate rock world. The Blow's electro pop tag team has been blowing up everywhere from Pitchfork to iTunes (where they had a featured single.) Both show us that 2007 looks to be a pretty fun and exciting year. Hear that Jonathan? I'm sure you already know. PD


(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) Okay, Feist. You know me. I'm a fan. I might sort of maybe even have a crush on you. I might've even, say, proposed marriage to you, in this very paper, the last time you were in town. You didn't respond, but that's okay. You were probably just busy. Anyway: I'm not one of those guys who'll hang around, gaze longingly at you, listen to you bitch about whoever you're with, and then mumble "You can do better" as I continue to wistfully wait for you to come to your senses. That's just not my style. So let's do it this way: Feist, you can do better. What is this? Is everything okay? You doing all right? Because look, I'm concerned. You? Opening for goddamn Jonny Lang? On the same bill as a husband and wife duo called "Nu Shooz"? Yeah, I know it's a benefit show for the food bank, and I'm not gonna be a dick by making fun of feeding homeless people or whatever... but c'mon, Feist. You've got more talent in one of your eyelashes than that douche Jonny Lang has in his whole 12-year-old body! And the mere concept of a husband and wife duo calling themselves "Nu Shooz" makes me want to stick a dull ice pick through my belly button, yank out my intestines, tie a sloppy, slippery noose with 'em, then jump off of the Steel Bridge. Feist, Feist, Feist. C'mon. Let's talk about this. Maybe things aren't going so well. Maybe you're in a tough spot. But I'm here, Feist. I'm listening. ERIK HENRIKSEN


(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) This show, described by the promoters as "December to Remember," makes me want to quit listening to music, quit reviewing music, quit talking about music—shit, man, it makes me want to QUIT LIFE. Of all the derivative, phony, fashion-forward bands to come out of the much maligned (by me anyway) garage rock revival, Jet are the worst, fakest, shittiest, shamefulest... est-est. If you go to this show, ask the band how it feels to make music that sounds like Mountain Dew commercials and soundtrack action for Cameron Diaz flicks. Also if you go to this one, show up early for locals Blackheart Whitenoise, who actually rock hard and sound original. A funny aside: The next December to Remember show, which goes down on December 11, features Pete Yorn (Pete Yaaaawn) headlining. (One after that is the yuppie indie SHINS. Gross.) What kind of crack are these folks smoking?! PD


(Someday Lounge, 125 NW 5th) Cacophony is one of the most consistently curated experimental events in Portland. Even better, there's no snobbery at work in this noisy little scene. It's a monthly proving ground for the most obscure artists and dabblers in the darkest nooks and crannies of the Northwest. Local audio splatter merchant Oscillating Innards might be the most recognizable name on this bill, which says a lot about how far below ground Cacophony keeps its ear when seeking new and under-recognized talent. Speaking of which, Warning Broken Machine is the latest vehicle of Eugene, OR's Don Haugen. This noise mastermind has been abusing effects pedals and rewiring amps, speakers, and children's toys since the late '80s. It took Daniel Menche 15 years to get noticed around here. It might take a Eugenite like Don 25. Let's give him a little boost and prove that Portland loves to have its ear drums scoured on a regular basis. All this takes place at the exquisite new epicenter for industrial culture—Someday Lounge. NATHAN CARSON



(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) Jonathan Richman is one of those living legend sorts of dudes, but the sort who you wouldn't recognize if they were sitting across from you on the bus. In the '70s, he headed up the prolific Modern Lovers, who went on to write some of the coolest New York style basement-pop (if you get "Roadrunner" or "Pablo Picasso" in your iPod repertoire, it just might change your life). And since then, he's gone on to write a countless number of songs on dozens of records, creating a loyal fan base around the world. Richman's jingly-jangly pop music has changed quite a bit over the years—you might not get the edginess of the Modern Lovers at tonight's performance. You'll most likely hear a few of the hits, a mish-mash of a few of his Spanish language songs, and some good old-fashioned Bo Diddley inspired rock 'n' roll. Ain't nothing wrong with that, ain't nothing wrong with surprises either. SN


(Someday Lounge, 125 NW 5th) Every high school had one (or 10): the black-clad androgynous set, rounded out by a trench-coat-wearing thespian or two. Pasty skin, black eyeliner, and a grim expression, the dark-sided kids were/are a strange and necessary complement to high school life. Lurking in the corners and poking fun at the majority, they spew forth odd and powerful talent: the kind that comes only from a sense of feeling the world has wronged them. Something, it seems, the always black-clad Sherry Fraser—the mastermind behind Two Ton Boa—feels and rightfully expels through her heavy, lashing, bass-heavy Goth rock. Her new album and first release in seven years, Parasiticide, is an excellent collection of two-bass, no-guitar melodies, brutal vocal howls, and grave, imminent drum pummels—a haunting concoction sure to translate into an all-out assault on the ears live. JENNY TATONE

SUNDAY 12/10


(The Artistery, 4315 SE Division) See Music, pg. 37.


(Satyricon, 125 NW 6th) Voodoo Glow Skulls, who emerged in 1993 with two trumpets blazing as one of ska's fastest, goofiest groups, now qualify as unlikely elder statesmen. With the three Casillas brothers at its core, the Riverside, California–based sextet incorporate traditional Mexican music, bilingual lyrics, metal references (including a horn-driven take on the opening riff of "Crazy Train"), Cheech and Chong samples, and brass-laced hardcore breakdowns into its aggressively hectic, cosmopolitan sound. The Skulls recently completed their first substantial South American trek, connecting with the ever-expanding global Spanish-speaking fan base that has helped them sustain their international relevance long past the genre's domestic popularity peak. ANDREW MILLER


(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) The Northwest Institute for Social Change is a radical program that educates and inspires students to become leaders in the community. Accredited through Portland State University, and headed up by Mercury pin-up star/contributor Phil Busse, this organization's mission is to teach folks about the roles that the media can play in shaping social movements. Tonight's benefit concert showcases a few of Portland's most articulate and politically informed performers, to support the exciting summer program offered in 2007. Sarah Dougher, whose indierock street creds are numerous, will be singing out and lecturing a bit on the history of protest music. Jim Brunberg, who is often known as the behind-the-scenes man at Mississippi Studios, will be pulling out a few instruments and surprising us with a few rockin' jams. And, if that wasn't enough, Holcombe Waller, whose critically acclaimed stage performance has inspired folks all along the West Coast and beyond, will be gracing us with his mysterious presence. Get fired up about the world you live in, and gather the creative tools to make change—this is going to be good. SN

MONDAY 12/11


(Rose Garden, One Center Court) Let's hope the curse of Portland, ME doesn't rear its ugly East Coast head out here. Due to a strict fire marshal that poo-pooed GnR's big pyrotechnic plans (and any drinking on stage), that show was cancelled on short notice. If this thing does go off, we'll be treated not only to a rare appearance of this legendary band, but also Skid Row's superhero frontman Sebastian Bach, and surprise additions Helmet. Truthfully, it will be tough for the eccentric Axl Rose to follow up strong support like that. Perhaps that's why he's enlisted the guitarist from Nine Inch Nails and the drummer from Primus. The new GnR could be a formidable 21st century beast with an unparalleled back catalog of hits. Or it could be a gigantic embarrassment for the kooky astrology-addled Rose. But hey, if Portland, OR flies its freak flag per usual, expect some big explosions on stage and enjoy watching Axl and the band drink their livers into the fucking dirt. Consider your ticket buy for a charitable cause: All proceeds from this show go toward paying back the thirteen million spent so far on the as- yet-unreleased album Chinese Democracy. NC

Ghosting, Axolotl, Bulbs, Eye Myths

(Valentine's, 232 SW Ankeny) It's amazingly sweet what five bucks can getcha. Two 40-ounce beers, a ton of coffee, an orgy's worth of condoms, a great book at Powell's, and something like this: four rounds of hot-ass experimental music at that hotter than hot-ass Valentine's. Ghosting's ethereal drones make me stoned without taking a hit. Karl Bauer's Axolotl syrupy, phasin' psyche tunes (via violin!) will take you to new worlds of trippy noise. Bulbs (of San Fran) make no BS (no hippie) psyche jams with geetar and drums. Eye Myths recently moved up here from sunny San Diego and are a killer addition to PDX's experimental/fun scene. Get on it! Oh, and a side-note: Axolotl will also be playing at the WONDERFUL FUCKING RAD AWESOME EXILED RECORDS for free on Sunday! That goes down at 4:30 pm. I suggest going to both. See you cretins there! GRANT MORRIS


Hey, what's on TV tonight?



(Wonder Ballroom, 128 NE Russell) Billed as "Woody Guthrie's Happy Joyous Hanukkah Tour," tonight's "entertainment" features klezmer/world music/rockers the Klezmatics putting lost Guthrie lyrics to song and dressing it all up with their roving, ethic stew. Barf. BAR-ARF. Seriously, Woody Guthrie was a tough, no-BS kind of chap and his music was lean, serious (even when he was being downright hilarious), and had no room for silly antics like this. Let's change the name of this one to "The Klezmatics' Happy Joyous Grave Dancing Session," shall we? We shall. Whatever, I'm going to Show Me the Pink anyway. PD


(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) Okay, so the Shins' new album, Wincing the Night Away, got leaked a while ago. It's not supposed to be out until January (January!), but seeing as how it's readily available on the internets, and you, me, and Natalie Portman have all heard it, let's go ahead and talk about it—by which I mean, "Let's talk about how the Shins are one of my favorite bands, and probably one of your favorite bands, and yet how, somehow, Wincing the Night Away is still kind of boring." This is mostly because every song goes like this: "Zzzzz." And the album, as a whole, kind of goes like this: "ZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ [That last part is my favorite song on the album, "Sea Legs," which is slightly less zzzz-y than the rest] zzzzzzzz—*hic*—zzz.... ZZZZZZZZZZZZZzz...zzz....zzzzz." All that said, and as a huge Shins fan, I'm still going to say that Wincing is great, provided you're in the right mindset—by which I mean, "Like when you're sick—coughing, wheezing, eyes running, snot running down your upper lip, tired as fuck but unable to sleep—and you really want NyQuil, and then you finally get some, and it just hits the spot." EH


(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) In 1973, four years before I was born, in a garage in the heart of the barrio, Los Lobos Del Este Los Angeles would begin a 30-year legacy of creating a hybrid of music that has been the soundtrack of my life. I remember being 10 years old, and with my mom, little sister, Tía Bala, and various cousins, going to see La Bamba at the Edwards Cinema on Whittier Boulevard. We listened to my father's cassette tape copies of How Will the Wolf Survive? and By the Light of the Moon as he drove us sleepy-eyed to school every morning. Another 10 years, and countless Los Lobos concerts later, "La Pistola y La Corazon" would be played at my father's wake—a solemn reminder of my family's heritage. The music of Los Lobos is a bluesy, Latin-infused, rock 'n' roll history of the lives of almost every Chicano family I know. This isn't to say that these musicians have locked themselves into a stereotype. Every album that they have created over the past 30 years, including the most recent release The Town and the City, has shown their progression as creative artists who are willing to stretch themselves to find both the beauty and suffering that is the heart of the Mexican-American experience. SN


(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) Cutie-pie hipster couple Matt and Kim has been all the rage at NYC parties over the past year or so. So much so, it was time to take their happy punky party on the road. And so on Wednesday, the duo—whose collective cuteness is a bit unfair—will bring their rowdy party beats, chipper plucking, plunking key and giddy yelps to Rotture and, more than likely, smile ear to ear from start to finish, encouraging their enthusiasm for dance punk to spill over into the crowd, inciting similarly wide smiles, hyper head bobs, and maybe even a few crowd surfers. Their debut album is made of thin, spunky post punk and dancy rubber band rhythms. But I imagine their songs are even bigger and badder live—like the Thermals if Hutch and Kathy were in love. JT