GERALD COLLIER, STEVE TURNER
(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) See My, What a Busy Week!.
BLUE SCHOLARS, SLEEP, CLOCKWERK
(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) Even though Bayani has only been heating up store shelves for a few months now, the Blue Scholars are already growing restless. The whip-smart Seattle hiphop duo—made up of emcee Geologic and DJ Sabzi—have been riding high on the success of their conscious flow and boisterous live performances, so much so that they now rep major label Rawkus and their success stretches beyond the Emerald City. But it's evidently not enough, since the band just delivered the Joe Metro EP, named after the title track, which documents a bus ride alongside the many neighborhoods, faces, and personalities of Seattle. Speaking of their hometown, the Scholars aren't afraid to bring back some traumatic memories and drop a Brian Bosworth reference in their local-pride anthem "NXNW." The Boz? Ouch. That's like a Portland crew name dropping Sam Bowie. Some regional sports references just hurt more than others. EZRA ACE CARAEFF
SOUTHERLY, GRAVES, BOAT
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) No disrespect to great local acts Southerly and Graves, but the band on this bill that I'm most excited about is Seattle's Boat. Everything about Boat suggests that they'd be sugarcoated twee—from their name and their adorable packaging to the fact that they're on indie-pop stalwart Magic Marker. While elements of their music are quite popish and sweet, they are pureblooded Northwest indie rock through and through, with lo-fi, high-energy tracks chock full of handclaps and jangly guitars. This year's Let's Drag Our Feet! is one damn fine record that just gets better and better with every listen, and will (rightfully) end up on more than a few critics' year-end lists. ROB SIMONSEN
THE PORTLAND CELLO PROJECT,
HORSE FEATHERS, 3 LEG
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) If you were one of the many poor souls left out in the October cold after the Portland Cello Project sold out the Aladdin Theater, now is your chance to actually see the ensemble perform, instead of spending an evening out on Milwaukie Avenue crying frozen tears. The PCP is performing two nights at the Holocene—tonight being show number two—and they'll be sharing the stage with 3 Leg Torso and Horse Feathers, tackling various other pieces as well. While I hesitate to encourage any musical act to suggest that fans "bring a pillow" to their performances, cellist Douglas Jenkins means the best when he says, "I recommend bringing a pillow to sit on if you're going to want to sit, because last time we played [at Holocene], people were packed in and sitting on the concrete floor, which didn't look very comfortable." Comfortable asses or not, a PCP performance is always something to base your week on, so if you can get inside the doors for this one, don't you dare miss it. EAC
SUPERSUCKERS, TOP HEAVY CRUSH, MUDDY RIVER NIGHTMARE
(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) It's hard not to be a little put off by the absolutely staggering amount of merchandise shilled by the Supersuckers. In addition to all the usual goods (shirts, CDs, etc.), the self-described "greatest rock 'n' roll band in the world" sells coffee mugs, thongs (five different styles if you count the "Ladies Cotton Booty Shorts"), kiddie shirts, belt buckles, flasks, and tons of other items. Then again: Record labels never pay anymore, touring can be financial suicide, and frontman Eddie Spaghetti has already penned "Paid," their own personal ode to the wonders of commerce. Given the chorus of "I gotta work and I gotta get paid," perhaps I am being a bit too harsh on the 'Suckers, especially when you consider their impressive longevity despite nearly 20 years of hard living. EAC
PREFUSE 73, SCHOOL OF SEVEN BELLS, BLANK
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) See My, What a Busy Week!.
SHARON JONES & THE DAP-KINGS
DANAVA, DJ BLACKHAWK
(East End, 203 SE Grand) DJ Blackhawk looks like he just stepped out of a black velvet biker painting. His boots, buckles, vests, fringes, and hesher hair perfectly complement the life-affirming rock and metal that he spins. Capping the entire evening is Danava—the local kings of updated '70s glam-metal. Brace yourself for the amazing new album they'll drop early next year. It's chock full of horn sections, orchestral backing, and a ton of ass-kicking boogie. There's no better way to break in a great new club than with a night of glory like this. NATHAN CARSON
RIFLE, EVIL BEAVER, VANISHING KIDS,
(Tonic Lounge, 3100 NE Sandy) While recording a brand-new record might come as old hat for some bands, for the poor gentlemen of Vanishing Kids it was one tough ordeal. Skies in Your Eyes took two years, four recording studios, various lineup changes, and two entire states to complete. This quartet once called Portland home (from '01-'04), before packing up the pounding drums, guitar effect pedals, and swirling vocals (lift with your knees, those vocals can be heavy) and heading to their former hometown of Madison, Wisconsin. But the Badger State has nothing on the Beaver State, and the boys recently returned home and teamed up with new local label Bright as Night Records to release their latest work. Skies is an ethereal blend of UK shoegaze that initially comes across as emotionally distant—but once you spend some time with it, you'll be crossing your fingers that the next full-length from Vanishing Kids doesn't involve multiple U-Haul trucks and so many years gone by. EAC
(Slabtown, 1033 NW 16th) Tonight's a pretty special night for the Ax. After some 10-odd years together, the heavy—not quite stoner rock, not quite metal, but still totally rocking—duo will release their first seven-inch. The two tracks, "Black Sea" and "Zodiac," are killers—ripping, chugging stop-starters that plunge forks directly into your adrenal glands. The release ought to be a perfect preview of the full-length the band is working on right now, plus if you show up early, you might be lucky enough to score one of the limited-edition prints on blue vinyl. Then you should hold it high during their set so the record gets coated with the band's actual sweat, which totally makes it more valuable. Either that, or smelly. I'm not sure which. ANDREW R. TONRY
DIRTY SWEET, THE IMPRINTS, JUSTIN JUDE
(White Eagle, 836 N Russell) At a time when the music industry is folding in upon itself—labels are disappearing, sales are plummeting, and even one of the biggest bands on the planet (Radiohead) is going it alone—San Diego's Dirty Sweet are aiming for the stars. Well, maybe not the stars, but they definitely have their sights on the arena. They are, in the very purest form of the words, an "arena rock band," one that is not soiled by the excess and attitude of the genre. Nope, the Dirty Sweet, much like their name implies, are a gritty rock band, one that solos, stomps, and hollers with the best of them. Granted, they look like they stumbled out of a time machine that was set to "Woodstock, 1969," but their blistering guitar chops and howling vocals never come across as revisionist. The selling point might be how they can rock the bushy-mustache look without a shred of irony, in addition to getting away with wearing a leather vest (frills or no frills, it matters not) without a shirt underneath. Jealous? Yeah, me too. EAC
SOFT TAGS, HIDE & GO HUSTLE, AH HOLLY
(Towne Lounge, 714 SW 20th Pl) With the end of touring season comes a time to finally check out all the local bands we miss. Hide & Go Hustle craft cello-centric instrumentals with all the melodic sweep of Talkdemonic or Explosions in the Sky, plus they have the electro punch of bands like Lali Puna and Styrofoam, and even touches of Ratatat as well. Ah Holly Fam'ly are almost an Americana Beirut, taking something wholly organic and twisting it, turning it, pushing the envelope for a fresh take on experimental roots music. It's "folktronica," sure, but better arranged and more rootsy. HANNAH CARLEN
(Ground Kontrol, 511 NW Couch) It's been years since Spit Stix manned the drumkit for Fear—quite possibly the scariest band in punk history—and if you listen closely enough to LiCkity, you can hear the same thumping drums that were once the backbone to the madness of Lee Ving and company. Accurately self-described as "punk 'n' drum 'n' bass," LiCkity's latest EP, Toy Bomb, is a blurring mass of digital grit, distorted rhythms, and moaned vocals, all of which are packaged nicely on a CD that rests in an old school floppy disc. EAC
SWIM SWAM SWUM, REPORTER, TYPHOON, HUSBANDS LOVE YOUR
(The Artistery, 4315 SE Division) See Music Feature.
SWALLOWS, THE FOXGLOVES, PALLATON
(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) See Music Feature.
LAURA GIBSON, THE CAVE SINGERS, FLEET
HAIR CLUB: WRECKLESS ERIC, AMY RIGBY & THE NEVADA
LUNATICS, DJ PHAEDRA, TWO ARM TOM
(East End, 203 SE Grand) Chances are, whether you know it or not, you're already familiar with Wreckless Eric. His biggest hit, "Whole Wild World," is a movie soundtrack staple, used in everything from The Adventures of Sebastian Cole to Stranger than Fiction (it's actually the song with which Will Ferrell serenades Maggie Gyllenhaal in the latter). He can't carry a tune, and his songs are often in drunken shambles, but what he lacks in musicianship, he more than makes up in charisma. Sadly, he's always kind of been on the B-team: He started out on Stiff Records, which also, at the time, boasted the likes of Nick Lowe and Elvis Costello, so it's easy to see how he got overshadowed. But hopefully, with enough soundtrack appearances—and tonight's performance—more people will become aware of his understated pop genius. RS
KENNY NORDONE BENEFIT:
BLACK 'N BLUE,
(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) Tonight the party's at Berbati's, as legendary '80s hair band Black 'N Blue—featuring legendary axe-man Tommy Thayer of the über-legendary KISS—hosts a benefit for a legendary cause: aiding a friend in need. Longtime B'NB comrade Kenny Nordone is very sick with cancer and can no longer work, so his Beaverton (via Los Angeles) buddies are reuniting for a one-night stand to raise some bucks for their best pal. One highlight: Black 'N Blue always draws legendary rocker sluts of the very best vintage, the ones who peaked circa 1989 and who're still sporting sandblasted skintight denim and hair up-to-there. Watchin' these bitchin' babes rockin' out to bitchin' rock for a bitchin' cause is sure to kick start your heart. VIVA LAS VEGAS
TARA JANE O'NEIL, THE SHONDES,
SARAH D & THE
(Mississippi Pizza Pub, 3552 N Mississippi) In the '90s, Tara Jane O'Neil may have been best known for her work as a member of Rodan and Retsin, each of which applied a stark, sparse aesthetic to widely disparate sounds. Her solo work—six albums to date—falls onto the quieter side of that continuum. The recent In Circles blends taut vocal lines, waves of guitar, and moments of wary clarity; "A Partridge Song" and "Blue Light Room" are real highlights. Also an accomplished artist, O'Neil's most recent venture is the book Wings Strings Meridians, a collection of paintings and drawings accompanied by a CD of home and live recordings. The presence of Sarah D & the SGs, the new musical project from Sarah Dougher—and Brooklyn-based political rock quartet the Shondes, makes this a uniformly solid bill. TOBIAS CARROLL
WAYNE HANCOCK, JESSE DAYTON, BLACKOUT RADIO, HELLBOUND
(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) You'll get a "double-dose of hellraisin'" tonight, if Dante's website has anything to say about it, which, I guess, amounts to half a dose for each of the four bands playing (0.5 x 4 bands = 2 doses). Half a dose sounds about right for Austin's oft-touring Wayne "The Train" Hancock, whose authentic-sounding blend of saloon-honky-tonk will get yer feet tapping without stirring up any real trouble. Jesse Dayton is even softer fare, musically, canoodling a perfectly pleasant, soulful brand of country—though he has Hancock licked on other forms of hellraisin': Namely, he wrote the songs played by the ill-fated honky-tonk duo Banjo & Sullivan in Rob Zombie's The Devil's Rejects. Yeah... I didn't see it either. JUSTIN W. SANDERS
GINGERBREAD PATRIOTS, FISHBOY,
(Slabtown, 1033 NW 16th) See Once More with Feeling.
JOHN BUTLER TRIO, BRETT DENNEN
(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) So I hate to break it to you, but the extra 40 cents tacked onto tonight's "green" ticket is not going to save the planet. Want some more bad news? The absolute limit of time that the human ear can stand to hear the didgeridoo is approximately eight seconds. Regardless of these indisputable facts, John Butler plows on heedlessly, displaying his sumptuous dreadlocks on a tour that's taking every step to make sure Mommy Nature stays strong. How? Uh, well: (1) By printing your ticket with soy ink on recycled paper. (2) By demanding organic catering backstage. (3) By offering an organic T-shirt option at the merch booth (feel free to select the "dolphin-poisoning, seal-raping" regular shirt if you so desire). (4) By (I shit you not) "minimizing the idling of their bus when not in use." (5) By... oh god. I'm sorry. I have to stop. NED LANNAMANN
EYEDEA & ABILITIES, SECTOR 7G,
(Hawthorne Theatre, 1507 SE 39th) See My, What a Busy Week!.
GOOD FOR THE JEWS
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) See My, What a Busy Week!.
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) See My, What a Busy Week!.
PLAY DEAD, FLESHTONE, CODEBREAKER, DJ JIMME JAMMA, DJ
(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) See My, What a Busy Week!.
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Charmparticles aren't really shoegaze, but it would be impossible to write a review without mentioning the genre, since epic, swelling guitars plus female vocals will almost always end in comparisons to either early Lush, or at the very least, the Cocteau Twins. And while those are easy starting points, Charmparticles have a much more modern take on the genre, sounding closer to current acts like Mew or Silversun Pickups. Where early shoegaze acts, intent on creating atmosphere-driven music, would leave you staring at the floor, Charmparticles tend to pluck more from the rock side of things, using melody, thunderous drumming, and loud guitars as the catalyst for some serious head-nodding. RS
AIR GUITAR CONTEST:
DAGGER OF THE
(Dunes, 1909 NE MLK) Ye best get thy loins down to Dunes for this tourney! But hark! Those are not lances which these warriors wield. Verily, these knaves battle with no axe at all! Or do they? Portland's bards of melodic metal Dagger of the Mind prove that the pen is mightier than the sword, but also posit that the "air guitar" is even mightier still. They will judge a contest that harkens back to the turn of the '80s in Britain, where young punters would bring cardboard guitars to concerts and bang and shred accordingly. This movement is gladly forgotten, but the air guitar lives on (forever no doubt). Everyone you know is in three bands—but today, that one guy in the corner who can't tune a fish, can truly shine. One winner will be crowned while many others will die with their boots on. NC