THURSDAY 2/26

DEAD MEADOW, gris / gris, the out crowd
(Berbati's, 10 SW 3rd) Dead Meadow rocks. And they roll. And they do it with such an understated style and overstated sound that anyone open to the idea of a truly great modern classic fuzz rock trio is likely to be won over instantly. Each album (they release at least one every year) is more sonic than the last, elevating lowbrow riffage into spaced out textures that often escape the atmosphere before lead man Jason Simon reigns them back to earth. Think Bardo Pond spinning a Sabbath medley and you're getting close. NATHAN CARSON

SCREAM CLUB, OGGATRON, TEAM FRESH, DANTRONIX, DJ BLACKOUT
(Grand Central Bowl, 808 SE Morrison) You will totally cry yourself to sleep if you miss this Tron-themed dance party. JULIANNE SHEPHERD See Music pg 12

HYDROZEEN, FADED, 9TH AND MAIN, THE KEY, THE EMPTY
(Solid State, 624 W Burnside) Are the members of Hydrozeen, Portland's self-proclaimed loudest band, really the city's dons of the din? Maybe some enterprising sonic scientist will sneak in a decibel meter to chart the high-volume hell-raising--not just of Hydrozeen, but also some of the scene's other kings of clamor. Regardless of the findings, any group that employs a drummer named Reverend Chainsaw and sings about death, drugs, and demons deserves to be recognized among the titans of tinnitus. Occasionally, Hydrozeen augments its assaults with temper tantrums, though it recently vowed not to terrorize any more soundmen with its stunts. ANDREW MILLER

LOS MEX PISTOLS DEL NORTE, BASTINADO, I CAN LICK ANY SOB IN THE HOUSE, FRANK FURTER AND THE HOT DOGS, DJ SNEAKERS
(Ash Street, 225 SW Ash) In keeping with the fact that this show is to celebrate Ash St. booker Anthony's birthday, the line-up is an eclectic reflection of acts from different corners of the club's universe. Los Mex Pistols are a bunch of punk dorks from Eugene who lay on a heavy rock influence to the "olés" and horns of a mariachi-type show. They're headlining, so by the time they get around to playing you'll be ready to shake that ass. And in the jerky-sounding indierock corner, we have Bastinado, while I Can Lick Any SOB In The House holds court as the whiskey-drunk, American dirt road rock representative. Plus the dude who plays blues in a hotdog suit, and a hiphop DJ. It's all coming together. MARJORIE SKINNER

AVENUE OF THE STRONGEST, TAKIMOTO
(Twilight, 1420 SE Powell) Aloha! Back from beyond, Avenue of the Strongest resurrects their bicepical power-math and with a new line-up. Now kicking it as a three piece, and featuring Stella Marie slayer Lauren K. Newman on drums, go see what they've got in store. JS

YEAR FUTURE, OLD TIME RELIJUN, YUMA NORA, smegma, the gradient
(Meow Meow, 320 SE 2nd) Fronted by the infamous Sonny Kay (founder of label GSL and former member of VSS and Angel Hair), Year Future is chock full of well-versed California musicians treading in not-so-innovative screamo punk rock waters, which is ironic since Kay practically invented this shit. If you think about it, though, a grilled cheese sandwich isn't innovative, but it still tastes delicious. KS

FRIDAY 2/27

IOMMI STUBBS, DIESTO, TOPSIDER
(Berbati's, 10 SW 3rd) Rock lovers, check the endearingly sloppy dirge of Iommi Stubbs--and get there early for the triumphant return of Topsider, an aggro, fuzzed-out melding of the best of ZZ-Top and Helmet. It's Old Grandad and marijuana tonight, folks. KS

DEERHOOF, ALL GIRL SUMMER FUN BAND, 31 KNOTS, THE PAPERCUTS
(Meow Meow, 320 SE 2nd) See Music pg 12

DILLINGER ESCAPE PLAN, THE LOCUST, YOUR ENEMIES FRIENDS, WRANGLER BRUTES
(Roseland, NW 6 & Burnside) When a band like the Dillinger Escape Plan is so technically proficient, its music doesn't project so much as instantly invade. With sheer force and puncturing volume, the sound squirms around in noisy, mind-blowing patterns as if it's following a complicated rhythmic map charted like a calculus equation. The band melds math-metal and hardcore into a potent strain of heavy heaven, and its cover of Aphex Twin's "Come to Daddy" is a warped horror fanatic's wet dream. JENNIFER MAERZ

GOLDIE, MILGRAM SHOCK, SUFFX
(Level, 13 NW 6th) What up, Level? Goldie and 2 Live Crew playing in the same week. Hell, I may need to pull my shiny titty shirt out the closet and head down, if only for a glimpse of Goldie's incredible abs. Considering the experimental road down which his work's gone, who knows what the famed drum and bass producer will whip out tonightÉ but unless he's a damn idiot, it'll make you dance. KS

STARANTULA, DIAMOND TUCK, THE BOY IN THE BUBBLE PUPPET SHOW
(Slabtown, 1033 NW 16th) Nothing screams S-E-X like a big booshy moostache. Face facts, Jack! The sexiest men in world wear moostaches; Burt Reynolds, Tom Selleck, Teddy RooseveltÉ the list goes on and on! Tonight let's celebrate the "hairy upper lip" at Slabtown's Moustache Contest. Portland's finest examples of hirsute nose growth will go head to head for the coveted title of "Greatest Moustache in Town." And adding to the fun will be the rock star shenanigans of Starantula, and Diamond Tuck who will take your horniness to a startling new level. And for those ladies on a tight budget, as always, moustache rides are free. WM. STEVEN HUMPHREY

SATURDAY 2/28

FRED FRITH
(Fez, 316 SW 11th) With improvisationalists, career-length isn't necessarily relevant to set lists. Even if a guitarist has more than 35 years of acclaimed experimental projects to his credit, including stints with John Zorn's Naked City, Skeleton Crew, and Massacre, the past doesn't matter when he'll be composing compelling new works on the spot. Fred Frith remains as busy as ever, releasing remastered works, writing for classical quartets, recording several collaborative efforts and assembling a new rock band. His concerts combine pristine performances with abrasive exercises, as he entrances listeners with mesmerizing minor-chord melodies before making his strings shriek and squawk. The sounds might not be pretty, but even after three decades, they remain novel. AM

CLAMOR MUSIC FESTIVAL STARRING DAVIES VS. DRESCH, DEAD SCIENCE, IN MUSEUMS, CHEVRON, ROSS & THE HELLPETS
(Red & Black, 2138 SE Division) This is the Portland installment of a music festival taking place in venues all over the country today. Organized by Clamor magazine, it's a musical shout out to the glories of independent media. Sort of like a "Zap!" but cooler? Anyhow, they've assembled an interesting lineup, from the meandering, chimey airiness of Chevron to the quirky, endearingly nasal pop of Ross and the Hellpets. MS

BLACK CAT ORCHESTRA, DUCK DUCK GRAY DUCK, DJIN TEETH (FANGS)
(Nocturnal, 1800 E Burnside) Black Cat Orchestra sound like a soundtrack to a European noir in which everyone wears tweed hats and smokes cigarettes. The jazzy, thick-hipped backbone of sound is created with horns, accordion, and strings, then topped with a foreign chanteuse. It's a classy, exotic sound that's a good excuse to bust out the cotillion moves your mom forced you to learn in your youth. MS

GARTH, DJ ALDEN, DJ B
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) I got your Wicked Sound System right here: renowned producer/DJ Garth, who's given the house a light touch of depth and disco since the early '90s. Speaking of disco, his 1991 collabo with ETI, "20 Minutes of Disco Glory," became a dancefloor classic with its swingy percussion and palpably futuristic synth samples. As we like to say here at the Mercury, still relevant! Expect super-hot grit, cause you love that natty disco house. JS

2 LIVE CREW
(Level, 13 NW 6th) I can't decide if I want to go to this show or just lock myself in my room with As Nasty As They Wanna Be and a big bag of weed. I mean 2 Live Crew was essentially my first sexual experience, so... I really want to go, but then on the other hand there's no more Luke Skywalker and they're not exactly at the top of their game anymore... This is a tough one, don't you think? MS

ASHES TO ASHES B-BOY BATTLE: DJ WICKED, DJ MAGNETO
(PSU, 1825 SW Broadway) See Feature pg 10

RESTIFORM BODIES, BOOKS ON TAPE
(C07, 2000 SE 7th) All signs point to shoegazer rock being the resurrected "sound" for 2004's next big trendathon, but who needs that '90s crap when dudes like Restiform Bodies are around. This trippy wind-tunnel is spacey hiphop without looking over its shoulder, cryptic weighty production that sounds navigated by Mars Rover. As with many anticon-related projects (yo, cLOUDDEAD), the lyrics may as well be an astronaut's crazed mumblings, uttered only for their aesthetic properties. That is, they don't need to convey meaning so much as fold into the production, words put together like building blocks for beats, ideas popped out into the atmosphere; and yet, its pervasive goofball humor ties it back to earth. JS

DISCO VS. ROCK PARTY
(Million, 116 N Russell) Disco vs. Rock: I don't think you can say one is better than the other. They both lead to raucous behavior, grinding, and premarital sex. Tonight, however, Million hosts a DJ-off, where Flash Cadillac and the Continental Kid throw down disco and DJ Blackout and Kool Maud'b shred all forms of rock vinyl. Then, whoever has the most dancers on their side of the room wins. A dilemma arises: What if that guy you wanna tag is on the rock side, but you dig the disco? KS

SUNDAY 2/29

SCIENTIFICS, ADELAIDE, BENJAMIN'S SOCK PUPPET ROCK OPERA
(Meow Meow, 320 SE 2nd) See CD Review pg 12

THE STILLS, +/-
(Berbati's, 10 SW 3rd) The Stills have a skeleton in their closest, and it's wearing a two-toned suit. Not all that long ago, this hipster-du-jour band were just a bunch of wacky Canadians in a ska band called The Undercovers. I guess the switchover from Reel Big Fish knockoffs to the next Interpol is a pretty easy one. The outfits aren't that much of a change (maybe get a thinner tie), kick out the horn section, cut way back on the skanking and "pick it up, pick it up" vocals, and you're pretty much there. While their ska past isn't much of shocking revelation, especially considering the carbon-copy quality of their music and their place on Vice Records--the label spin-off of Vice magazine, which is to Brooklyn hipsters what Watchtower is to Jehovah Witnesses. EZRA ACE CARAEFF

MONDAY 3/1

PEDRO THE LION, JOHN VANDERSLICE, ESTER DRANG, DJ DICKEL
(Berbati's, 10 SW 3rd) I remember vividly the first rockin' drum solo that grabbed my attention. I was in ninth grade, squished into the stuffy auditorium with my ninth grade cohorts, enduring the insufferable, annual Holiday Concert put on by the school's Wind Ensemble and Jazz Band. The squeaks and blares of undeveloped musicians playing Yuletide fair were droning on and on, punishing my senses. Just when I thought I couldn't take another second, the music abruptly ceased, and all was silent as a gentle-looking senior picked up his sticks and started banging the shit out of a drum kit. To this day, I have no idea if that precious percussion interlude was actually good, but I know for sure that it was different, and that I remember it with great clarity, probably because it was one of the few times in my young musical life that I could step back and say, unfettered by the cruel influence of adolescence: "I like this." Back then, even just that was quite a lot. So thank you, Dave Bazan of Pedro the Lion, for being that drummer that fateful day at Shorewood High School, and for providing me with something pure. Oh, and I thought the song you played on your guitar at the graduation ceremony that year was awesome, too. I was in the Commencement band, 4th-chair trumpet. Kisses. JUSTIN WESCOAT SANDERS

THE "FUCK CLEAR CHANNEL" TOUR STARRING SAGE FRANCIS AND GRAND BUFFET
(Roseland, NW 6th & Burnside) See Music pg 13

TUESDAY 3/2

COURT AND SPARK, TRACKER, HARBOR
(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) In a world where quality films share names with abhorrent pop-punk plagues (Simple Plan) and second-rate Alice in Chains songs merge monikers with eighth-rate Alice in Chains impersonators (Godsmack), it's refreshing to see a decent group establish common ground with a classic album. Like the Joni Mitchell record after which this San Francisco act was christened, Court and Spark's Bless You draws its strength from poignant phrasing and relentless romantic wistfulness. But instead of merging pop and jazz as Mitchell did, C&S fuses country with shoegazer guitars, crafting campfire tunes for a rustic ranch in outer space. AM

TOKYO SEX DESTRUCTION, BULLET TRAIN TO VEGAS, LION FEVER
(Meow Meow, 320 SE 2nd) So the guys in Tokyo Sex Destruction aren't Japanese, they're Spanish. They're not related to Jon Sinclair, but they've all adopted the MC5 Svengali/White Panther founder's surname as their own. And they're a buncha light-skinned boys but they've decorated their CD Le Red Soul Comunnitte (Dim Mak) with images of black-power rallies. Musically, they're a sweaty, mouthy, hand-clap-happy, "fuzzbass" and Hammond-heavy continuation of the rock 'n' roll revolution, as hearty as the Datsuns, as theatrically garage gospel as the Hives, and a hell of a good time. Bring it on, my brothers. JM

COBRA HIGH, THE EVERYOTHERS
(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) Imagine a singer who thinks he's David Bowie playing in a band that sounds like a glammed-up take on your basic radio-friendly alt-rock. That's the structure propping up New York's Everyothers, a slickly produced act that also dabbles in a bit of power pop. Even with all the attitude in frontman Owen McCarthy's voice, you can't help but feel like they're more Sunset Strip mediocre than the "New York cool" the press is making them out to be. JM

LIZ PHAIR, PATRICK PARK, RACHAEL YAMAGATA
(Roseland, NW 6th & Burnside) Contrary to what Phil Busse asserts on pg 45, Liz Phair is, apparently, not that non-threatening to the "thinking man," as evidenced by Liz Phairgate 2003, in which people freaked their shit at the fact that Liz was, gasp, a SEXY DIVORCED MOM who dates YOUNGER MEN. One of the most complex figures in pop today, she was also a strong women who sang about cum and got sexual in her photo shoots, weaving a complex rope of codes we're still untangling. JS

WEDNESDAY 3/3

MATTHEW DEAR, L'USINE, BRIAN FOOTE
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) As techno inches past microhouse and shuffles through the reign of Kompakt, the most relevant techno is small, hot, and friendly--favoring slow-burn rhythm crescendos, compactly formed melodies and accessible vocals over bombast or detachment. Producers such as Ellen Allien, experimental discotequist Randy Jones, and tonight's headliner Matthew Dear, perform all varieties of personable techno and sound fresher than just-sliced sashimi. Dear's funky, miniature fires stoke hot and bright; his stuff on Ann Arbor label Ghostly International, particularly the commanding "Dog Days" (whose aloof vocals sit easily over a purposefully tinny melody and the synth equivalent of slap bass), has proven some of the best in heating up local dancefloors with the futurist slant. With his labelmate Lusine, whose compelling packed-in techno tends to blossom and burst apart like fractals (sorry for boho '90s rave imagery), and OMCO impresario Brian Foote. This show is recommended to the max. JS

BOB LOG III, STORM & THE BALLS, I CAN LICK ANY SOB IN THE HOUSE
(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) Bob Log is famous for getting prostitutes to record the sound of their tits clapping together, performing his one-man-band act in a motorcycle helmet fitted with a telephone speaker, and that one song "I Want Your Shit on My Leg." Even besides all the scatty, horny lore, his performances are a pretty amazing thing to see. Playing the guitar at warp speed while singing and "drum running" with his feet, there's a sideshow "Go Johnny Go" aspect to the experience. You could dance, or you could just stare. MS

HIGH LLAMAS, STARS, JOANNA NEWSOME
(Berbati's, 231 SE Ankeny) See Music pg 12

CRYSTAL METHOD, DJ HYPER
(Crystal, 1332 W Burnside) Crystal Method (Ken Jordan and Scott Kirkland) ascended from rave-circuit fixtures to ubiquitous mainstream-music presences during the media's brief flirtation with electronica in 1997. Their populist way with a funky breakbeat and catchy samples catapulted them to scores of film and video-game soundtracks, TV commercials, and arena tours around the time of their 1997 debut album, Vegas. Pundits dubbed them the American Chemical Brothers, but Crystal Method lack the range and emotional heft of their UK counterparts. This is apparent with Crystal Method's third and weakest album, Legion of Boom, which they're promoting on this tour. Most of the CD recalls the anonymous epic trance/funky breaks heard in 83 percent of Hollywood's action-thrillers. DAVE SEGAL