hot one Doug Fir, 12/14

THURSDAY 12/14

BLOWUPNIHILIST, FAWN, ROANOKE, SCARD, DJ GOATHORNS

(Ash Street Saloon, 225 SW Ash) According to the very credible UrbanDicionary.com, "buckwild" is when "you are incredibly crunk and hyper. You cannot be controlled because you are unleashing the beast." (Example presented: "after i anilated the other teams quarterback for a sack i was getting buckwild (sic)." It also means "a level of activity that results with those engaged in the activity end up on the ground (sic)." (Example given, "Shit dude! Look at Nick! He's going buckwild!") Both are dead-on perfect to describe Portland's wonderful-as-hell one-man-destructo-project SCARD. Dude's got range, running from barely audible ambient drones to sand-blastin' Swans-ish noise and menacing black metal. Like just when you think you're in for this sweet, mellow, rumble-scape, they totally go buckwild with the blasting pain and death and you're like, "Help! Mommy! I'm bein' eaten alive by ants here!" But you're not really; you're just having a killer time getting bumrushed by one of Portland's darkest knights (one Mr. Jared Huston, the main man behind this.) Definitely stick around for Vancouver's Blowupnihilist, purveyors of screamy goodness. GRANT MORRIS

DR. THEOPOLIS, SEXY PANTS

(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) See My, What a Busy Week!, pg. 23.

HOT ONE, THE SUN THE SEA, SCHOOL OF ROCK

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Featuring former Shudder to Think guitar foil Nathan Larson and latter-era StT drummer Kevin March, new New York rock band Hot One makes ostensibly anti-imperialist glam rock, similar in conception (though much less freaky) than the recent Weird War. The dual guitar leads and riffage draw a continuity between T. Rex and the Shudder to Think and is most present on last proper album 50,000 B.C. Hot One's linear relationship to StT is evident; their moniker even comes from the StT song Larson wrote for the Velvet Goldmine soundtrack. While bereft of their previous bands' more thrillingly oblique and stunningly unusual moments, Hot One still presents a strong revision of the halcyon days of rock glamour. SAM MICKENS

PINK MOUNTAINTOPS

(Dunes, 1905 NE MLK) I can't imagine a better venue for the Pink Mountaintops to play than Dunes. Their mesmerizing, psychedelic, druggy noise fits the small, hazy, barely lit joint all too well. At once dark and melodic, fuzzy and light, the Vancouver BC outfit's grinding and jangling songs take you to the '70s, take you out of everyday reality and, at times, take you into the cosmos. Led by the mastermind behind Black Mountain, Stephen McBean, the excellent Pink Mountaintops use feedback, tambourines, and stomping folk beats to shake stringy hair to, to get stoned to and to moan along to—and what better place to do it all than at Dunes? JENNY TATONE

LA GUNS, BULLET BOYS, APPETITE FOR DECEPTION

(Outlaws, 722 E Burnside) Dude, how sad is this? Guns N' Roses once featured all four of the original LA Guns members (including that retarded fat-ass Axl) and now LA Guns is playing with a fucking GNR cover band! Like, wow, man. Depressing. I mean, I think Appetite for Deception is wicked fun, and it's awesome for them that they're opening for these once GNR buddies, but damn. Just damn. Let's leave it at that: damn. GM

ROCK THE BELLS W/REDMAN, RAEKWON, KEITH MURRAY

(Roseland Theatre, 8 NW 6th) The Wu-Tang Clan's fallen on some hard times in the last, er, 10 years. After dominating the New York rap scene in the early '90s, the kung-fu lovin' super-group has polluted its once sterling reputation with a slew of tepid solo releases and laughably bad group efforts. Worst among the crew's many recent abominations has been the disappearance of the Chef himself, Raekwon. After dropping the rap masterpiece Only Built for Cuban Linx, the gritty emcee all but faded away. Relegated to a string of disappointing guest appearances and an ongoing role as Ghostface Killah's seldom-heard sidekick. Now, with rumors of a Cuban Linx sequel swirling in the ether, the roly-poly emcee is back to remind you just why you liked the Wu in the first place. Sure, the Wu-Tang Clan's grimy greatness may be a remorseful flicker in the back of your mind, but 'Kwon is back for round two, and it is not to be missed. NOAH SANDERS

FAMILY SAMPLER W/VIOLA VIEDMA

(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) Family Sampler is a smorgasbord of experimental entertainment conceived by Kaitlin Kennedy from the Garland Ray Project. Dance, weird music, psychedelic comedy, and social satire will all be made one by a host of local talent. Come see folks from the House of Cunt and Sissyboy troupes combine forces to mystify and rib. X/H and Viola Viedma provide the noise, and uh violas. Expect a phantasmagoric evening, a multimedia experience, and a lot of Twin Peaks worship. I hope there's pie and coffee. NATHAN CARSON

FRIDAY 12/15

BOOSATALI, ARACHNID ARCADE, KITTY MIDWIFE, SOUP PURSE, ROBOTIC DALY, MOOD RING, EET, BOY BAND, CELESTEVILLE, PARAQUAT, LORD UNCOOKED, SHUA, BUDWEISER SPRITE

(The Hostel, 2334 E Burnside) Seattle's classiest noise ladies, Arachnid Arcade and Boosatali have sharpened their incisors to let blood flow from the massive speakers of the best house-show sound system in the City of Roses. Much of Seattle's noisiest tend to draw more inspiration from an industrial and goth-classical aesthetic than Portland's moan and drone worker noise-bees. Arachnid Arcade isn't afraid to scowl ferocious scraping scrawl from a processed cello and slippery blathering keyboard like a million bats on exodus from a cave. Boosatali throws the shit into the fan and ducks with rhythmic brain-rattling double sequencer assault. Note: Boosatali, Arachnid Arcade, and Kitty Midwife will also be appearing live on KBOO Thursday night from 11 pm-midnight. JAMES SQUEAKY

PRETTY GIRLS MAKE GRAVES, SWAN ISLAND, KIKI, SLEEPWALKERS RIP

(Berbati's, 10 SW 3rd) I love it when an album cover exemplifies the music. And Pretty Girls Make Graves' Élan Vital, from its sweet trippy, spaced-out dance tracks to its more urgent pop, sounds just like a drippy rainbow-colored ice cream cone with '80s type. Their first release since 2003's The New Romance, Élan Vital has a good range of sound, but shines most in its nicely interspersed quieter songs, like the keys heavy "Pictures of a Night Scene" and harmonizing vocals in the album closer "Bullet Charm." The Rosie the Riveter "Parade" and Franz Ferdinand meets Debra Harry "Magic Hour" are also worth a once over, but the real winner is the whistles and dubby goodness of "Nocturnal House." But you know all this already, right? Old snooze. Once again you get the chance to do more than dance around to their records alone in your underwear or read even more reviews. So get dressed and get out there. ERIN LACOUR

ROCK 'N' ROLL CAMP FOR GIRLS FALL SHOWCASE

(Disjecta, 230 E Burnside) Ten weeks ago attendees of the Girls Rock Institute chose instruments and formed bands and now they're ready to show off their blossoming skills! Tonight at Disjecta the Rock Block bands including the Local Cucumbers, Pinion, the Remnants, and Blü Bird will perform original songs that they wrote during their fall term at GRI. The Rock Block bands will be joined by their "intern bands" whose members have been supporting the new musicians while learning how to teach their trade. There's also a silent auction, chow, appearances by the Guns 'n' Rollers roller derby bruisers who are sponsoring the event, and a post-show dance party. And if that doesn't satisfy your need for girl rock mayhem, check out the Rock Camp open house on Sunday. JESSIE DUQUETTE

KMRIA, HANZ ARAKI

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) For as often as I find myself unwillingly subjected to nauseating Christmas ditties this time of year—be it walking through the mall, or the supermarket, or wherever else the thought of JC's birthday might coax me into parting ways with a dollar or three—you'd think every once and a while I'd hear a song I actually liked. To date, there is only one Christmas song I care for—"Fairytale of New York," by the Pogues. Sadly I've never heard the song playing at the mall. While I typically care for tribute bands as much as I care for Christmas music, the idea behind KMRIA is hard to deny. Picture members of the Decemberists, Eels, Amelia, Casey Neill & the Norway Rats, and the Minus 5 coming together to rock your ass Irish punk style, or rather, Pogues style. Better yet, don't just picture it, see it and hear it for yourself. MATT DRISCOLL

LAURA GIBSON, GRAND HALLWAY, CORY GRAY

(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) Seems to happen every couple of years. I get so burned out on music, the "scene," bad bands and worse bands, retro-kitsch acts, and all the grudging, young millionaires, and I just want to give it all up and do nothing but listen to pre-'79 Dylan for the rest of my life. And then, by chance, when I'm done, not looking for anything new ever again, and the rough demo for "Changing of the Guards" sounds like pure holiness, I'll stumble upon someone like Laura Gibson. And I'm sucked right back in. Her soft, lulling, coastal-farmland voice will climb out through the speakers. Simple, strummed chords will make me weak. And as the lyrics and melody swim together, and she sings, "Up with the sunrise, you'll be staring through the window of the day," against the counter backbeat of a warm acoustic and brushed drums, everything is new, again. BRIAN T. SMITH

BUTTERY LORDS, APE SHAPE, CAC

(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) The Buttery Lords are like a wonderful audio time capsule from my favorite era of hiphop—oh, the early/mid '90s, when most of the listening world still was unsure whether the Beastie Boys were talented or just goofballs, and when jingly Digable Planets songs were updating jazz music with a one-two combination of lounge beats and street smarts. It was a glorious time! And tonight, with their CD release party (Buttered for Her Pleasure), the Buttery Lords return hiphop to what I always hoped it would be: macho and aggrandizing, yet still fun, jazzy, cheeky, and self-effacing. There are several reasons why the Buttery Lords have become one of the city's longest-standing hiphop groups: They have musical talents and confidence (and a hefty library of pop-culture references—really, when's the last time Fabio, Bob Seger, and the WTO protests have been referenced together in a rap song?), but also the good sense not to take themselves too seriously. Even their most vulgar lyrics make you want to throw your arms around these young men. Joined tonight by the funky and punky Ape Shape. PHIL BUSSE

CAJUN GEMS, DAVIS HOOKER, ISLE HYMNAL, JESSICA JONES

(Valentine's, 232 SW Ankeny) I'm not a big fan of year-end top 10 lists and usually opt out when asked for mine but this year gave us too many amazing shows and new bands and records to not speak out. (While the rest of the world continued to go to shit, of course. Was it karmic penance?) This year, while working through my top 10 list of great local shows, Isle Hymnal's date at the Tube a few months back continued to rise to the top. Was it the best show of 2006? I'm still undecided, but for all intents and purposes, let's go with yes. Full disclosure, my friend Ryne, who also does some Mercury writing (see his piece on Akron/Family on pg. 25) played with the band that night, so take this however you'd like. Besides Ryne it was Nick from Shaky Hands and Scout Niblett's drummer Nathan. They faced each other, each working with their own drum kit and assorted sideline instruments (electric guitar hit with drum sticks, clarinet, etc.), and beat out this vibrant, fiery drum circle of chanting, howling craziness. It was half Native American sweat lodge jam, half pre-reggae niabingi-style rhythms. It was also very tight, realized, and balanced some stellar musicianship with creativity and a hypnotic energy that charmed me like a damn snake flute. Check out Isle Hymnal before 2006 goes to the bone yard. ADAM GNADE

THE DANDY WARHOLS, A LIVE MEETING OF BIGGER GEEZERS

(Wonder Ballroom, 128 NE Russell) A while back Courtney Taylor-Taylor tried to start some shit. "The Portland Mercury are little liars, and they're little baby brats," he told the fine folks over at the Willamette Week. "Obviously, they just lie a lot and one day they're just going to be crushed by a libel suit." He went on to call us "little girls," and we went on to mercilessly mock Courtney Taylor-Taylor as the arrogant, retardedly named, questionably talented dipshit that he is. So there I was, pretty content with hating Courtney Taylor-Taylor and his stupid name. But then! O, then! Then I started watching Veronica Mars, a show that's in its third season now, and kind of sucks. Its second season sucked too, but I'm getting ahead of myself: In its first season, Veronica Mars was the shit. Clever, smart, funny, sad, weird, and great. I mean, it's about this high school girl who solves mysteries using sex appeal and witty banter! Great. And it has this goofy, excellent theme song, this poppy, light, fun song that gets you totally amped to, once again, go on another sleuthin' adventure with Ms. Mars! I'm guessing you can see where I'm going with this, so let's get to the point: How the fuck could someone as douchey as Courtney Taylor-Taylor and his stupid band, the Dandy Warhols, write such a swell pop song? Is it just that ol' Veronica Mars magic that makes everything seem better than it really is? (I mean, that bald dude from Just Shoot Me is great in Veronica Mars too, so maybe the show just has an amazing way of making everyone even remotely involved seem really talented, even if they're not.) The point is, I don't know. All I know is that I love this show (its first season, anyway), I love this song, and yet I can't stand Courtney Taylor-Taylor or the Dandy Warhols. Trying to reconcile these things—either when I'm watching the opening credits to Veronica Mars or when I'm just lying in bed in the cold, cold darkness, chasing sleep, my brain racing and my eyelids twitching as I cannot help but ponder Serious Issues such as this—makes my brain feel like it's SAVAGELY TEARING ITSELF APART. But perhaps these contradictory urges are simply part of life. Perhaps I must simply accept this vicious and terrifying conflict. Perhaps there is no answer. Jesus fucking Christ, I don't know if I can. Life is hard. ERIK HENRIKSEN-HENRIKSEN

SATURDAY 12/16

ASKE W/L'ACEPHALE, DJ HELVETE, DJ GOATHORNS, DJ DECAPOD CLAW

(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) Another concept-heavy event night at the Rotture. Cool. Its dark decor and good sound make it a really excellent and flexible Southeast club. This second appearance of ASKE (Norwegian for "ashes") is devoted to darkness, evil, and black metal music. No less than three DJs have been enlisted to help usher acolytes to the dark side. The music will be accompanied by video projections of all sorts of diabolical fantasy footage, specially assembled for this event. Promised images include: "sword-wielding Vikings, burning churches, zombies, bloodlust and horror, horseback barbarians, foreboding dark woods, and more," Local black metal band L'Acephale provides the living death. They play their black metal by the numbers (666) and by the book (The Necronomicon). All hail Satan! NC

FERNANDO, THE PRIDS, MICHAEL JODELL

(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) This Saturday, Portland's own proto-post-punk-pop-heads the Prids will be coming to a downtown hell-themed club near you! Normally I would only recommend ultra-cool new-wavy mid-tempo hipster bands to the most exclusive glueheads in Gresham, but the Prids put their sound together with enough smarts, attitude, and style to distinguish themselves from the 17,000 lame pout-punk bands in the Pacific Northwest. The desperate, driving rhythms of songs like "The Problem," "Contact," and "Infection" consummately capture the frenzied hopelessness of wintertime in a waning industrial metropolis. I was going on vacation in Rio this Christmas, but the Prids have made me realize that as long as I have my pea coat, I'd be just as content spending the holidays squatting in a burnt-out Winnebago by the river. Well rehearsed after a three-month tour, the Prids should be in prime performing condition; fit to set Dante's on fire. THADDEUS CHRISTIAN

EL VEZ

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) See My, What a Busy Week!, pg. 23.

AKRON/FAMILY, ALELA DIANE

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) See Music, pg. 25.

BRIGHT RED PAPER, ZOE KEATING

(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) I think that if the musicologists and super scientists of tomorrow are able to match the frequency of the human soul to an instrument it will certainly be the cello as no other natural tone can hold a candle to its deep, stirring resonance. Cellist Zoe Keating would likely agree with me as she's devoted her life to pushing the boundaries of her instrument. Formerly of chamber goth band, Rasputina, Keating's solo album, One Cello x 16, is elegantly haunting as it gracefully walks the line between ambient and neo-classical forms. Cello-centric instrumental band, Bright Red Paper is a prefect foil for Keating at this night of intimate winter music. JOSH BLANCHARD

IRETSU, WOODEN NICKLE, THE MUSIC POPULATION ORCHESTRA

(Someday Lounge, 125 NW 5th) See Music, pg. 25.

A CAUTIONARY TALE, MANTAUK, DOUBLE DRAGON

(Towne Lounge, 714 SW 20th Pl) Too bad for A Cautionary Tale, that they missed the lounge resurgence of the mid '90s as their skillful blend of bossa nova, cocktail jazz, and indie ballads would make any tiki head salivate. Tonight marks the release of their debut album, Let New Days Dawn, a sophisticated pop music bounty, adorned with xylophones and smooth flamenco guitar licks. The Mark Sandman-inspired vocal melancholy that occasionally rises to the surface puts a bit of a damper on the whole affair, but overall a damned impressive piece of work, boys! JB

ROMANCING, ARTIFICIAL LIMB CO.

(Valentine's, 232 SW Ankeny) Romancing is pretty interesting stuff.  They've got two sets of drums and two sets of lungs and they use them to make sounds. The duo starts off with drums (or sometimes they start off with lungs) and in a modern tribal way, they loop the two into a sort of rhythmic drum circle. A small drum circle with only two people. And more modern, more hip, better dressed. You know what I'm talking about. Not like the drum circle that sometimes forms over at the Sunnyside Sunflower off of Belmont, or the spontaneous drum circles that spring from Waterfront Park. The vocal stuff is what you would hear if you and a friend walked into a dark cave and made a few ghosty noises and then heard an echo, and you would say, "Whoa." So yeah, modern tribal with ghosty noises. And now that you have reminded me, next time I see Romancing I'm going to ask them if there is going to be a tabla in their future, or perhaps a set of lap congas. Because that would rule. SALINA NUÑEZ

SUNDAY 12/17

BLACK SUNDAY W/MIDDIAN, BURIED BLOOD, LESBIAN, DJ NATE C

(Ground Kontrol, 511 NW Couch) Eugene, Oregon, you have some 'spaining to do! Like, how could your wispy, mellow, hippie-ass city produce something so vile and spirit-crushing as black metalists Middian? 'Course I say "vile" and "spirit-crushing" in the most favorable of ways. Middian (ex-YOB) is some naaaasty, heavy metal bomb droppin', but it's also totally catchy and would kick some mega ass on rock radio. This is legit, epic, savage shit, yo. GM

JINGLE BALL W/THE PUSSYCAT DOLLS

(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) Wesley Willis often spoke of his demons, angry voices that scrambled his thoughts and made him aggressive, insulted him, and interfered with his songwriting. Wesley called these attacks "hell rides." Now, if there's one thing that never fails to awaken the lecherous nympho demon that's hanging 'round my subconscious and send me into a crazed sexual frenzy it's the Pussycat Dolls. The Pussycat Dolls bring infectious dance-pop jams that get the juices flowing and hips swiveling and grinding uncontrollably. (And by "bring" I mean they ain't all singing, but man, they've got moves that Stormy down at Devil's Point would be proud of.) The Pussycat Dolls started out as a burlesque dance revue in Los Angeles and then Vegas, with a rotating cast of characters and celebrity guest appearances from the pop-star hussy elite; Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, Pink, and Gwen Stefani have all lent their kitties to the Dolls. Now the Dolls have a formal line-up led by former Eden's Crush member Nicole Scherzinger and they've taken to the radio waves. Their debut album, PCD, debuted at #5 on the Billboard 200, with seven hit singles so far this year, including "Don't Cha," "Buttons," and the latest "Wait a Minute." Tickets for this show are only available through Z100. Tune in to the station for details. JD

MONDAY 12/18

SEAN, THE ABODOX, DJ NATE C

(Tube, 18 NW 3rd) Growing up in San Diego, music like the Abodox was one of the main things that kept me from offing myself. That sunny lower chunk of Southern California is an oppressively bland, conservative, business-as-usual hellhole where things like good music really can save you. (Eternal thanks to the Crimson Curse, Business Lady, Holy Molar, and Dmonstrations.) The Abodox is from Seattle, where I'm sure they have their own things to rebel and scream out against, but I definitely feel some San Diego in their greasy, razor sharp, power grind. There's some metal guitar, some (perfect) blast beats, and song structure that shifts all over the place, stomping like a giant stone elephant god then racing through cyber-jazz runs. Sean is two-piece speed grind that's about as unpredictable as music gets, with all sorts of heavy kaleidoscopic flourishes. This show is going to be incredible. AG

FEROCIOUS EAGLE, AAN, THE DEAD NAMES

(Towne Lounge, 714 SW 20th Pl) Local dudes Ferocious Eagle have a new four-song 7-inch out and it's going to whup your ass like a pro wrestler flipping out on a 'roid rage and PCP all at the same time. Expect some rambunctious, heavy, spazzoid Northwesty rock with guitars full of distorted fury and drums that recall prime-era Dave Grohl before dude sold his soul to whatever the eff dude sold his soul to. (Money? McDonald's? MTV?) It's sorta like Drive Like Jehu, Le Shok, and Mudhoney all joining arms for a big post-game huddle. Ferocious, yo! This shit is so bomb I can't even hold my piss in. There it goes... ahhhhrghrghgrhhhhhhh.. yes... and... oh... ahh... pissed my jeans again! Who cares! GM

TUESDAY 12/19

TRACTOR OPERATOR, WILLIAM HOLLEY, PAPER BRAIN

(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) See My, What a Busy Week!, pg. 23.

WEDNESDAY 12/20

POP TOMORROW! W/AUTOPILOT, CHORES, THE WHEREWITHALS

(Towne Lounge, 714 SW 20th Pl) Post-O, Brother Where Art Thou? the amount of artists playing old-timey folk has gotten staggering (as is the amount of artists jumping from whatever genre they performed before to become "folkies. Go where the money is, right?) But in the vast onslaught of pretenders out there, we also have folks (haw haw) like Autopilot who sound authentic, emotional, and come at the genre with fresh ideas. Portland's Autopilot is Adrienne Hatkin and Paul Seely (with help from Fiona McLaughlin) and theirs is a beautiful, sparse, wraithlike take on old-timey folk and Appalachian mountain music. Check out The Snikative Sessions for a good preview. PETER DAVIS

THE MONA REELS, NATE ASHLEY

(Valentine's, 232 SW Ankeny) It's been sooo nice to see ex-Bangs members goin' on to new awesome things. This week alone we've got Bangs alum Maggie Vail doin' some super-rad experimental stuff with Romancing and here's the Mona Reels, featuring ex-Bangs (2001-2004 era) drummer Peter David Connelly. April and Summer Schief round out this version of the band and their recent music is pure pop killerness. We're talkin' Ben Folds, Beatles, Beach Boys, Bacharach... all sorts of "B" bands and their sugary perfection. It's so nice that "our" version of pop isn't confined to TRL-style TV shows and big-ass arenas. Our pop is for the people! GM