Up & Coming 



THURSDAY 10/14

EAGLES OF DEATH METAL, BULLETS AND OCTANE, TELEPHONE
(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) Be warned. No death metal here. Enjoy the sweet lo-fi, humor-filled, bassless noodlings of Eagles of Death Metal. The side project of Queens of the Stone Age guitarist Josh Homme (he plays drums in this band), Eagles music is utterly lovable, even though it may not be technical wizardry. Save your hearing and get down with some non-commercial White Stripes-style shit. KATIE SHIMER



LILA DOWNS
(Aladdin, 3017 SE Milwaukie) The highlight of 2002's Frida was its soundtrack--Mexican folk songs, regal and ghostly in their retelling of the old stories. Oaxacan-born Lila Downs had some of the best songs on the soundtrack, a gripping, big-voiced, folklorico reading of "La Llorona," the moaning, chilly, high-plains howl of "Benediction or Dream," and her new record, Una Sangre, goes deeper into Mexican folk, showing its most lush, powerful, and mood-dripping sides. Best track is her version of the traditional "Paloma Negra," a song 85-year-old Chavela Vargas tore to beautiful, operatic-voiced shreds in the film. Dear honky: go to this show and your Hoobastank records will never sound the same again. ADAM GNADE



MODERNSTATE, DIZZYSTARHOUSE, QUIET COUNTRIES, POINT JUNCTURE, WA
(Nocturnal, 1800 E Burnside) Modernstate is something akin to the musical equivalent of watching a mason at work--as Sam Schauer alone builds each of his songs from the ground up before your very eyes. Loop upon loop of sampled guitar is an economical production method, to be sure, allowing Schauer the freedom of endless ghost guitarists--but as with most loop-based productions, it can get a little monotonous watching each element stacked up before becoming the sum of its parts. Fortunately, Schauer's compositions make up for any lag, all melancholy and contemplative and clever. ZAC PENNINGTON



NICE NICE, PHON.O, STRATEGY, FRONT MACHINE, PORTLAND BIKE ENSEMBLE
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) See My, What a Busy Week!, Pg 27



FRIDAY 10/15

THE CAROLINES, THE DIMES, ANAURA, DERBY
(Ash Street, 225 SW Ash) Portland's Dimes are almost too pretty for the Ash St. The meticulously constructed, radio-friendly, fuzzy pop on their self-titled EP sounds like it might feel out of place in that down 'n' dirty venue. They're going to need to mess it up a little live. You need some grit in there to make that pearl, and the Dimes' EP is so clean it borders on sterile. JUSTIN "SANDSTORM" SANDERS



CONVERGE, CAVE IN, BETWEEN THE BURIED AND ME, PLAYING ENEMY
(Meow Meow, 320 SE 2nd Ave) From Hardcore superheroes to prog pariahs, from major label maybes back to touring the Hardcore circuit, Cave In have been through a lot in their career--not the least of which was walking off the sting of the critical disaster that was Antenna, their major label debut. This tour is a strange return to form for the band that once toured with the Foo Fighters, hitting the road of mid-level venues with hardcore mainstays Converge. Also performing are North Carolina's Between the Buried and Me, who I swear to god stole there name from a Counting Crows song. How's that for Hardcore? ZP See Music, Pg 31



DO MAKE SAY THINK, ADELAIDE
(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) See My, What a Busy Week!, Pg 27



JULIE DOIRON, MOUNT EERIE, WOELV
(Meow Meow, 320 SE 2nd Ave) Phil Elverum meets his proverbial maker in the form of former Eric's Tripper Julie Doiron, who's previous band is as much a part of Elverum's own Microphones (and subsequent Mount Eerie) as is tape hiss and dirty white pants. As Mount Eerie, Elverum has spent the last year or so touring the continent with his blushing bride Genevieve Castree (aka Woelv), amassing an incredible amount of material that remains largely unrecorded, andÉ wellÉ doing the sorts of things that people on K Records do. Like campfires and drum circles, or whatever. ZP See Music, Pg 31



MARK LANEGAN BAND, NICK OLIVERI, THE ICARUS LINE
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside ) See My, What a Busy Week!, Pg 27



BILLY MINTZ WITH MICHAEL VLATKOVICH, DOROTHEA GROSSMAN, JOE FOSTER
(Disjecta, 116 NE Russell) Billy Mintz is one of the few jazz drummers left skilled enough to perform solo sets and keep you riveted. Tonight he doesn't even have to do that, though, because ace trombonist Vlatkovich will be his wingman. The trombone, like the drum set, is by itself an undervalued musical instrument. Don't miss this show if you have any interest at all in truly unique jazz improv. JWS



A BENEFIT FOR FEVER THEATER FEATURING: THE STANDARD, LOCH LOMOND, HURTBIRD, IRETSU
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Four local groups have "band"-ed (Get it? "Band"? God I slay me!) in support of the uprising Fever Theater company, who create intimate fusions of movement and text that are frequently hilarious. Looks like we've got the woefully rockin' tuneage of The Standard, the off-kilter guitar/violin melodies of Loch Lomond, the weirdly catchy electro-rants of Hurtbird, and Iretsu, featuring members of Loch Lomond. Meanwhile, Fever members will prowl about, offering you "taxi rides" around the bar, as well as other strange performative presentations. JWS



GILLIAN WELCH
(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) Waffling about whether or not to shell out the dough to see her? Just watch The Queen Mistress of Olde Tyme's 2002 DVD, The Revelator Collection; it's performance documentation at its purest and most base. The crisp B&W footage of she and partner/handsome badass emeritus shows David Rawlings under a DAMNED ROOM MIC in the historic Sun Studios, eyes half-closed, teeth sometimes clenched, shoulders slumped, just OOZING their way through those gorgeous, dustbowled masterpieces of hers. They self-released their last two essentials, Time (The Revelator) and Soul Journey, on their Acony label, and if there's justice in the world, they're filthy stinking rich from the Americana/folk revival they and the Coen Brothers started. Welch and Rawlings are as at the top of their game now as then, and if I find out that they still tour the country in a pink convertible Cadillac like they used to, I'll absolutely cream my pants. JOAN HILLER



SATURDAY 10/16

BRIGHT EYES, JIM JAMES, M WARD
(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) For all the shit to be talked on ol' quaver-voiced Oberst and the Omaha scene he helped to enliven--one thing that must be said on his behalf: dude knows how to deeply move the sort of disaffected, awkward teens I imagine I spent most of my pubescent years with. And I have to admit, part of me admires him for that. Couple that with the likes of M Ward and My Morning Jacket's Jim James (the lot of whom purportedly playing collaborative sets), and you've got so much whiney charisma you can cut it with a knife--that special one you keep in the box under your mattress for when things just get, you know, too hard. ZP



ENTROPIC ADVANCE, WILL S, C/A/T/, POWER CIRCUS
(Disjecta, 116 NE Russell) While I can't say that I particularly like ambient techno, I don't usually particularly mind it either. It's good for things like acupuncture sessions. And as far as that goes, C/A/T/ is one of my favorites, using textured effects like faint, mangled voices that sound like part of someone's telephone reception that somehow crossed wires with the beats. It's voluptuous and more varied than many of their peers, veering from soothing to bombastic dance throw downs that not only would be totally inappropriate at the acupuncturist's, but that fully recall the danger and excitement of an early underground rave. Whoooeee! Plus, Disjecta is going to close soon, so start composing your goodbyes. MARJORIE SKINNER



MARK LANEGAN BAND, NICK OLIVERI, THE ICARUS LINE
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside ) See My, What a Busy Week!, Pg 27



MEST, HAWTHORNE HEIGHTS, BAYSIDE, LOLA RAY
(Meow Meow, 320 SE 2nd Ave) Mest isn't a real word, though a definition of the band would fit neatly between "messy" (lacking neatness or precision, slovenly) and "mestranol" (synthetic estrogen). Instead, it's an abbreviation for Milwaukee's Best, the increasingly impotent group's alcoholic equivalent. Sure, these sloppy pop songs can get you loaded if you're a 12-year-old who can't handle the hard stuff, or if the all-you-can-drink Warped Tour is skipping your town and you have absolutely no other options. Otherwise, steer clear of a "punk" group so cloying it makes its mentors in Goldfinger sound like Bad Brains, a band whose decision to put its own picture on its album cover owes more to Backstreet Boys than the guitar-smashing Clash. ANDREW MILLER



THE MISFITS, POISON IDEA, 800 OCTANE
(Bossanova, 722 E Burnside) Though they may have gotten rid of oppressively right-wing vocalist Michale Graves (whose convoluted rants can still be perused at the terrifyingly confused website ConserativePunk.com--check it out, it's worth it), the "Misfits" are today perhaps the furthest they've ever been from the actual Misfits--that of the legendary Danzig-fronted punk band whose logo has helped to line so many T-shirt screen printers' pockets. That Misfits, of course, were a masterwork of macabre misogyny who released dozens of the catchiest songs about murder, rape, and alien abduction ever written. While this Misfits maintains many of the unsavory elements of that Misfits, it lacks one very important ingredient--that of nearly any original members. Instead you've got the Ramones' second drummer, Black Flag's third singer, and the only actual Misfit, Jerry Only (whose devil lock now starts near the crown of his head, if you catch my drift). Disgraceful on all counts. ZP



GET OUT AND VOTE FEATURING VURSATYL, LIBRETTO, STARK, ROCHELLE D. HART, HAZMAT, THE FABULOUS SATURDAYS
(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) You like hiphop, and you like exercising your rights as a U.S. citizen, so check this show that combines the best of both worlds. Libretto is a smooth, smooth, smooth emcee and has some talented friends. JWS



SUNDAY 10/17

dillinger escape plan, every time i die, zao, misery signals, bad acid trip
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside ) See My, What a Busy Week!, Pg 27



HEROIN SHEIKS, CAROL'S CHUMP, KNIGHT BADGER
(Sabala's Mt. Tabor, 4811 SE Hawthorne Blvd) If the name of their 2001 debut, Rape on the Installment Plan, is a little too abrasive for you, wait 'til you hear the Heroin Sheik's sonic skree. Fronted by the "Crispin Glover of noise rock," aka Shannon Selberg of the Cows, HS fuses together members of the Swans and Foetus to warp the shit out of the post-punk sprawl. Funk, experimental electronic music, and punk rarely sound this battered as when the HS boys rope them together and beat them to a pulp. JOHNNY COCKRING



LADYSMITH BLACK MAMBAZO
(Aladdin, 3017 SE Milwaukie) In second grade, Hillary Urban and I were often left home alone. Instead of getting into real trouble like we should've, we'd drag her parents' wooden speakers outside, blast Paul Simon's Graceland and have cannonball contests in the turquoise pool out back. The way LBM's ta-na-naaaaahs during the intro of "Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes" sounded, mid-air, just before everything got underwater-muffled continues to be one of the most shining aural memories of my childhood. The Zulu choir wasn't known for shit in the U.S. before Simon's hit record, but leader Joseph Shabalala & Company have since enjoyed international success by bending the rules of traditional Zulu composition. Besides lending a pop sensibility to classic South African chanting, Shabalala found Christ in the mid-'80s and quickly began meshing melody patterns of the gospel music he heard on Sundays with the more percussive vocal style of his tribe. The result still makes me want to get fetal and cannonball into the depths. JH



RACHEL YAMAGATA, TOM McRAE
(Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E Burnside) She's hot like yr wet dream with pipes that kill, but man, what a bummer. Unfortunately caught in some sort of weird post-Vanessa Carlton funk, Yamagata released her first collection of randomish piano-rock ballads--aptly titled Happenstance--with Arista this year. She'd previously played for six years with some college funk band called Bumpus before doing this. Six. Years. Rachel, dude, you are talented! You are beautiful! What's the deal? JH



MONDAY 10/18

OLD 97'S, JON RAUHOUSE
(Aladdin, 3017 SE Milwaukie) Everything is indeed bigger in Texas--the donuts, the egos, even the bands. Where a lotta alt-country groups go for the moody, mournful backwoods ballads, the Dallas-born Old 97's are pure bar rock hell raisin'. The last couple years have been quiet--and very un-big--for Big RhettMiller and his boys, but they dropped Drag It Up this summer and are going for the glory with tours and radio play and mega-promotion. Drag is just as rowdy as the band's best, and heart-sick and gloomy-gutted enough for the old-school country heads. Big comebacks are the best. Yeehaw. AG



DAVID THOMAS & TWO PALE BOYS
(Lola's, 1332 W Burnside) Lots of folks want their way-out aural "ideas" to be taken seriously, even when they're convoluted, ignorant, or flat-out dumb. Well, in the spirit of trying comes 18 Monkeys on a Dead Man's Chest from veteran freakazoid Rocket from the Tombs/Pere Ubu's Dave Thomas and his Pale Boys pals. Basically, 18MOADMC is Thomas' poetry/prose backed by the Pale Boys' bizarre, disjointed art-rock-noise (the "art/rock" being presented without any lame pretense, meaning there's no DIY "free jazz.") But I reckon that ain't a surprise as Thomas is known for being clever and concise, so much so he never insists on demanding, complicated "it's gotta be explained to make sense" type ideas. Everything he's done is simple, honest, and presented relatively as is, which makes his sometimes-difficult work easier to digest. MIKE NIPPER



TUESDAY 10/19

SOULED AMERICAN, EX-LOVERS, desert city soundtrack, MINMAE
(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) The enigmatic country-fied ensemble Souled American make a rare stop in Portland on the heals of no new album, no new interest, no new nothin', really. The band--who haven't released anything since 1999's Notes Campfire--have seemed ripe for a critical take-over since their 1988 Rough Trade debut, but for some reason or another, it was never really in the cards. Their first three records--which went out of print when Rough Trade folded--have since been reissued by A Minor Forest's Andee Connors, who started his Tumult label specifically for the cause; Author Camden Joy famously launched a propaganda campaign called "Fifty Posters about Souled American." And still: nothing. A fairly rich history for a band no one seems to know about. ZP



SPLIT LIP RAYFIELD
(Ash Street, 225 SW Ash) Split Lip Rayfield kicks the ass out of bluegrass. This is a group that turns the latent similarities between bluegrass and thrash-metal backbeats into a chest-rattling reality; players for whom "pick it 'til it bleeds" refers to mandolin and banjo strings, not scabs; a band of mechanic's men who made a bass out of a gas tank. Its smoldering shows lure twirling hippies, haggard country rebels, grease-stained gearheads and Slayer-loving speed freaks. On its recent release Should Have Seen It Coming, Split Lip shreds through 16 tracks in 39 minutes, its whirling dervish of propulsive picking slowing only for some occasional hootenanny harmonizing. AM



VAN HALEN
(Rose Garden) Hell yeah! Even with one foot in the old folks home, Van Halen continue to set the frenetic soundtrack for wild, wild youth. This time around, for the first time in a decade, the band is playing songs from their pre-Diver Down heydays. Screw you, Dave! Rock on, Sammy! PHIL BUSSE



WEDNESDAY 10/20

EYEDEA & ABILITIES, R2DJ, ILLOGIC, LOS NATIVOS, DJ PRZM
(Aladdin, 3017 SE Milwaukie) See Music, Pg 29



FLOGGING MOLLY, STREET DOGS, THE BRIGS
(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) After Flogging Molly's first record, Swagger, came out in 2000, I ended up drinking with frontman Dave King before his show. Struggling with depression and half drunk, he spoke so passionately that my eyes got misty and I wanted to knit him a sweater. Doomed eternally to comparisons to Shane MacGowan, most of his band's repertoire does indeed sound like a poor man's Pogues. But in the softer, darker, ballad moments, it doesn't matter. Sad, fucked up, brave, and drunken Irish boys will always sing the best sad songs. MS



FAMOUS MYSTERIOUS ACTOR PLAYERS
(Ash Street Saloon, 225 SW Ash) In a year crammed with historic occasions, here's one you might not want to miss: The final appearance of the Famous Mysterious Actor Players at the Ash Street before they move across town to Sabala's at Mt. Tabor. And to celebrate this momentous occasion, prepare for a momentous show, featuring momentous (and decidedly bizarre) comedy, momentous music, and momentous guests such as the Mercury 's own Ann Romano, authoress of One Day at a Time. (WM. STEVEN HUMPHREY)

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