MINUS THE BEAR, THE HELIO SEQUENCE, GRAND ARCHIVES
(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) See My, What a Busy Week!.
THE PONYS, CHIN UP CHIN UP, DEATH VALLEY
(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) See My, What a Busy Week!.
DEL THA FUNKEE HOMOSAPIEN, DEVIN THE DUDE, BUKUE ONE, SERENDIPITY PROJECT
(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) See Music Feature.
DENGUE FEVER, RUPA & THE APRIL FISHES, PUFF PUFF GIVE, DJ ANJALI, THE INCREDIBLE KID
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) A six-piece psychedelic surf rock band with roots in California and Cambodia, Dengue Fever considers just about every imaginable groove. Equally adept at churning blues, swinging pop, and steamy balladry, the band attracted a disparate fan base—from hipsters to Cambodian expats—on the back of their hyper-visceral sophomore album, Escape from Dragon House (2005). Now they're putting the finishing touches on a follow-up, Venus on Earth, set for release early next year. With songs primarily sung in Khmer, Dengue's temperamental catalogue—from driving, dance-friendly, Farfisa org an-driven compositions to frontwoman Chhom Nimol's torchy warble—should make for a trippy live set. JALYLAH BURRELL
JJ GREY, MOFRO, DUSTY RHODES & THE RIVER BAND
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Sweaty, swampy, low-down, and funky: JJ Grey and Mofro are everything Florida used to be, before the onslaught of AC and high-rise condos and four-wheel drives that never leave the pavement. That Florida—old Florida—exists only in legend now, and in song, and Grey is one of the last homegrown troubadours to sing of its heyday and demise. Rooted in Southern rock and Stax/Muscle Shoals soul, deepened by the glorious slide guitar of longtime musical foil Daryl Hance, Grey's songs are relevant to anyone who's ever cursed a condo. The last show of theirs I caught was a scorcher; we could always use a little Florida heat wave. JONATHAN ZWICKEL
SUZANNE VEGA, RICHARD JULIAN
(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) Suzanne Vega's 1992 album, 99.9 F°, came out when I was just 14. It's full of odd bass lines, references to the crazy "boy in the belfry," and Vega's sultry, uniquely recognizable voice. When she snuck "Blood Makes Noise" from that album into her free set at Pioneer Courthouse Square this summer, I realized how long this classic album has stuck around. "New York Is a Woman," the highlight of her most recent album, Beauty & Crime, shows Vega the poet at the top of her game. She personifies the city through the eyes of "a suburban boy here for your first time... dazzled by her beauty and her crime." And when Vega provided the chilling insider/outsider look at NYC's "ruined places, smoke and ash still rising to the sky," I fell in love with her music all over again. JIM WITHINGTON
FLAMING LIPS ZAIREEKA LISTENING PARTY
(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) See My, What a Busy Week!.
PSYCHEDELIC HORSESHIT, EAT SKULL, PINK REASON, THE NIGHT SLAVES, LITTLE CLAW
(Slabtown, 1033 NW 16th) Although I'm not sure how I feel about their name, Psychedelic Horseshit's buzzy garage tunes have got me. But now that I think about it, the name does round out the band's aesthetic. They're a part of that loud, scummy, two-chord, feel-good, we're-still-putting-out-tapes-so-get-fucked garage scene (as are all the other bands on tonight's bill). And while at home you might find the trash-pop styles a bit hard to get into because of the shit-soaked, lo-fi recordings—or because you don't have a fucking tape player—live it's a different story. Trash pop is the quickest, cheapest, loudest, blurred-vision musical high you can get—like chugging a bottle of Robitussin in the bathroom at Walgreens. Or maybe it's more like Sparks. Yeah, definitely Sparks. All the rotten gusto of malt liquor mixed with loads of caffeine and artificial sweetener. ANDREW R. TONRY
JOHN RODERICK, CARRIE AKRE
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Ooh, here's a special treat: A quiet little early evening-ish kind of thing with Long Winters frontman John Roderick. Just him, an acoustic guitar, and you. And me. I don't miss Roderick when he comes to town (from Seattle). He is of a very rare breed: an indierock singer/songwriter who actually entertains when he performs, who engages with the audience verbally as well as musically, intersplicing truly beautiful, frequently heartbreaking pop gems with hilarious anecdotes and other asides. The result is a kind of intimacy, even when Roderick is belting it out in front of hundreds, as he usually is when touring with the rest of the band. Tonight it's just him though. And me, and you. And we're gonna sit real close and shoot some shit and have a good ol' time, guaranteed. JUSTIN W. SANDERS
THE LORD WEIRD SLOUGH FEG,
DARK BLACK, EALDATH
(Mt. Tabor Legacy, 4811 SE Hawthorne) There's just something about that righteous, wailing Judas Priest/Iron Maiden-style metal that makes me want to slam eight Budweisers, grab the skateboard, drop into Burnside, and tear around the bowls like a fucking rabid shred dog—like some kind of invincible Viking warrior. It sounds like a joke, but it's not. That's how the triumphant, galloping harmonies of the Lord Weird Slough Feg affect your body rhythms. I mean, okay, I guess it is kind of a joke (albums named after D&D, anyone?). But so what. These dudes soar unapologetically through the bygone era of Priest and Thin Lizzy. I mean, shit—check out these lyrics: "I'm trapped behind bars/on the gateway to Mars/But when the stars expire will I still be here?" Dude, nothing much you can say to that except it TOTALLY FUCKING RULES! ART
BLACK DICE, PHANTOM JAMS, LITTLE CLAW
(Someday Lounge, 125 NW 5th) See My, What a Busy Week!.
THE MINUS 5, THE TRIPWIRES
(Towne Lounge, 714 SW 20th Pl) See My, What a Busy Week!.
LIVE WIRE! WORDSTOCK EXTRAVAGANZA: HARRY SHEARER, JOHN WEINLAND, CARRIE AKRE, RALPH HUNTLEY & THE MUTTON CHOPS, MORE
(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) With the literary festival Wordstock as its theme this month, the radio-broadcasted variety show known as Live Wire! continues to kick ass. Most of the lineup, fittingly, belongs on the reading calendar, but there's plenty of music to go around too. Like the brassy folk-pop of big-voiced Seattleite Carrie Akre, who is carving out an impressive solo career after years fronting grunge acts like Hammerbox and Goodness. Also, dig the grandiose countrified rock of Portland's own John Weinland. And hell, maybe Harry Shearer will pull something out of the Spinal Tap vault and... and I'm gonna quit while I'm ahead. JWS
JAY REATARD, THE HUNCHES,
(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) Ahh, the beloved Hunches—for the better part of this young century, they've been treating us to some of the most soulful, wild, and ferocious rock shows this town has seen in some time. But like God, pizza, and good looks, all good things come to an end. And for the Hunches, the great white light at the end of the tunnel is starting to come into view. There are only a few things left to do before the band welcomes the great beyond. First they'll finish work on what will be their final release—a 20-song double album for In the Red. Then, early next year they'll throw a release party. And that's it—they're calling it quits. Done. Buried. Adios. But dammit, we can't start mourning just yet. This might sound like a trip to the hospital—but the patient, dying of lung cancer, is still totally cool. He'll say "fuck it," take off the oxygen mask, and light one up with you for old times. ART
MERCY CORPS BENEFIT: MORGAN GRACE, LITTLE SUE, JEREMY WILSON, PILAR FRENCH, MICHAEL JODELL, TOM GRANT, SUSIE BLUE, LAEL ALDERMAN, JAYCOB VAN AUKEN, LINDA HORNBUCKLE
(Mission Theater, 1624 NW Glisan) Tonight's show is part of the absolutely awesome Mercy Corps series of concerts to benefit those displaced during the 20 years of conflict in Northern Uganda. This particular show (one of 10) is billed as "songwriters' night," and goddam, they sure rounded up a bunch of 'em. For my money, you can't beat Linda Hornbuckle, who threw down one of the best performances at this year's MusicfestNW. Backed by an all-female a capella chorus, Hornbuckle blew the roof off of the Doug Fir with the most wicked, soulful rendition of "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" the world will ever hear. Just fucking amazing. As I see it, Hornbuckle's got the best pipes of any singer in all of Grumptown. ART
SONDRE LERCHE, DAN WILSON
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) A regrettable, and somewhat discrediting admittance for a music writer: For the most bone-headed of reasons, I never gave the sweetly nostalgic pop harmonies of Sondre Lerche a chance. It happened when I confused Lerche with the similarly named CocoRosie [Seriously?—eds]. Thus, for as long as the Norwegian singer/song writer has been entertaining the masses with his light, airy guitar and crystal clear vocals, I've been avoiding him like the plague because of an utter dislike for the sparse instrumentations of CocoRosie. So, dear reader, I implore you—don't be like me. If for some reason you've also fallen victim to this admittedly moronic fault, right your exceedingly wrong ways. Lerche is the real deal, a purveyor of music that runs the gamut from heart-breakingly beautiful to up-beat aggressive pop. And so my journey of forgiveness begins. NOAH SANDERS
(AudioCinema, 226 SE Madison) For local bartender and man about town Chad Schild, the only thing scarier than taking on acute lymphoblastic leukemia is doing it by himself while uninsured. But that ain't happening. Thanks to a slew of generous local bands, he will not be alone in his fight. Formed in his honor, Supportland's goal is to raise $10,000 (or more) to help offset Schild's staggering medical expenses. Their justification for prying that hard-earned cash out of your pocket? Five top-notch local bands, including the hot-shit Caves, who are riding high with the recent release of their stellar Get on with It album. Do the right thing, Portland. EZRA ACE CARAEFF
ANNUALS, MANCHESTER ORCHESTRA,
NEW FRONTIERS, KEVIN DEVINE
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) See Music Feature.
CELEBRATION, KILL ME TOMORROW,
(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) With washes of ambiguous organ and a dynamic rhythm section, Celebration's music seems fractured, as if pulled from some carnivalesque, impressionist future. At times, they sound like comic book artist Paul Pope's line work rendered into music. Frontwoman Katrina Ford's vocals have moved from the pinpoint aggression of their debut to a more expansive, restrained sound. The recent The Modern Tribe moves from the surging, rich "Heartbreak" to the intricate, percussive "Hands off My Gold." And although Celebration's members have spent time in Baltimore's Love Life and collaborate in the studio with TV on the Radio's David Sitek, their often contradictory, fathoms-deep sound is very much their own. TOBIAS CARROLL
JENNY OWEN YOUNGS, SEAN HAYES,
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) See Music Feature.
FOG, AU, ETHAN ROSE
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) See Music Feature.
VANESSA CARLTON, GRAHAM COLTON
(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) The Pennsylvania-bred, Columbia University-dropout Vanessa Carlton was just a fading pop ingénue when the Wayans brothers cast her hit "A Thousand Miles" as the white teen anthem in their stale 2004 farce White Chicks. Belted by flighty Paris Hilton types, the song's cameo didn't do much for Carlton's critical credibility, and it made her signing with hiphop label The Inc. seem reactionary—but Carlton's back with a familiar incarnation of her signature effervescent piano pop, now with heartier drums and some world-weary edge. She's growling, pleading, whining, wailing, and resonating, despite her image. Failed flirtations with cool aside, Carlton's a compelling listen and her impeccable chops and powerful alto translate well live. JB
THE WATERY GRAVES, THE WINKS, THE FUNZ
(The Artistery, 4315 SE Division) It is difficult to wholly recommend a live show of Portland's own avant-garde jazz aficionados, the Watery Graves. Though the sparse music the threesome slowly weaves out of the ether is impressively moody, it also dangerously toes the line of "boring." Their spacey bass plucks, shimmering cymbals, and plinking piano exist somewhere in the void between the occasionally exciting world of experimental jazz and the barely recognizable realm of high-end elevator music. Either way, I can almost assuredly warn you that the Watery Graves' live show will be less of a performance, and more of a series of snippets of loose instrumentation interwoven in the quiet spaces among your conversations. In other words, very pretty background music. NS
SMEGMA, DEMONS, THRONES
(Reed College, 3203 SE Woodstock) A torturous lineup of noise and volume, this show promises to carve out a tiny portion of hell on Reed campus. Demons batter broken synthesizers, feature Nate from Wolf Eyes, and boast a new member in Alivia Zivich, whose analog video experiments help define the band's self-proclaimed "visual music" tag. Their appearance brings some old-school heavy hitters out of the woodwork. Smegma, one of the oldest noise bands in the world, are giving Paul Revere and the Raiders a run for their money as longest running band in town. And one-man tree-hugging drone assault-team Joe Preston appears as Thrones—the only band he seems able to see eye to eye with for an extended period of time. NATHAN CARSON
WITCHCRAFT, DANAVA, MAGICK DAGGERS
(Satyricon, 125 NW 6th) The Swedish masters of retro-proto-metal are back. Witchcraft reverently soaked up nuggets from the '60s and '70s to an amazing degree. Once they ran out of material to study, they started writing their own songs in the same style, and the results aren't so different in sound or quality from Pentagram or Budgie. Their friends Danava do the same, only the original sources are further disguised by proggy twists and analog synths. Magick Daggers get lumped into the fray based more on sheer passion than fashion. The Daggers, propelled by the Get Hustle's drummer Maxamillion, are the undisputed leaders of Portland death rock: Maxamillion and his female accomplices are about as witchy as they come. NC
THE WARLOCKS, DARKER MY LOVE, HIGHWAY
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) See My, What a Busy Week!.
OZZY OSBOURNE, ROB ZOMBIE
(Rose Garden, 1 Center Ct) You're not going to believe this, but it's absolutely true: Last week in Fargo, North Dakota, police staged an elaborate sting in the name of the Ozzman. Before his show later that night, the Fargo pigs staged a phony pre-show party and invited 500 people with outstanding warrants. Over 30 of them showed up and were hauled off. Seriously fucked up. Apparently it's not entrapment, but it sure seems close. Ozzmosis had nothing to do with the operation and is rightfully pissed (but I bet for the right price that rotten wife of his would've signed up). I feel a bit sorry for the Blizzard of Ozz in all this, the doddering old fool. It seems like a scene better suited for that swine Gene Simmons. But anyway, if you get any strange invitations tonight, it might be best to just leave them be. ART
(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) Have you seen Ferocious Eagle lately? Because if you haven't since the band picked up the Ax drummer Adam Jelsing, now is the time. The super heavy-hitting Jelsing has beefed up Ferocious Eagle's abrasive, angular spazz attack in a serious way. Plus the band recently returned from a Midwest tour, and they're tighter than Tony Little's abs. Careful now—that vein looks like it's about to burst. ART