Corrina Repp Clinton Street Theater, 10/26

THURSDAY 10/26

JELLO BIAFRA

(Disjecta, 230 E Burnside) Say what you will about the aging punker, but to survive any movement and come away with anything, let alone your wits and chutzpah intact, is a Herculean feat. Jello Biafra has done far better than that. He survived being raided by the FBI. His ex-bandmates sued his combat boots off. He walked away unscathed. He fronts the Melvins occasionally. He educates people. He'll tell you exactly what kind of fucked up shit your own government is planning for you. With the Portland Police Bureau acting like killing a person is easier than hitting the drive through at Popeye's, now might be a good time to consult your politico punk mentor/counselor. LANCE CHESS

¡FORWARD RUSSIA!, SCANNERS

(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) If you're tired of post-punk, dance-punk, or any other punk of that spastic, electrified ilk, you may want to move on now. But for those of you still digging the spiky, angular riffs, buzzing keyboards, and convulsive yelps, you'll enjoy the UK's ¡Forward Russia! Unbeknownst to most of us Americans, the young band—who formed a couple of years back in Leeds—have hit the UK's Top 40 twice, released a slew of singles on their own label, Dance to the Radio, toured with disco punk cohorts We Are Scientists and Editors, and released an NME-hyped debut album, Give Me Wall, earlier this year. Taking a classic manic approach to speedy punk with dance beats, ¡Forward Russia! don't break any ground, yet their ripping intensity and spirit is enough to make for a smashing good time—if you haven't tired of that sort of rapture yet. JENNY TATONE

GRAB BAG W/SARAH SHAPIRO, ALICIA MCDAID & GREG ARDEN, MARY CHRISTMAS, COLIN BEATTY, SCOUT NIBLETT

(Someday, 125 NW 5th) I had my doubts, I must admit. Opening under the idea of furthering avant-garde, performance, and experimental art, Someday Lounge could've been incredibly bad. Just embarrassing bad. Instead, they pretty much rule. Tonight's stellar show is loaded with talent and features world-class grunge queen Scout Niblett. If you haven't yet stepped inside Someday's lush atmosphere, allow this to be your gateway. PETER DAVIS

CORRINA REPP, PSEUDOSIX, A VERY DEAD HORSE

(Clinton Street Theater, 2522 SE Clinton) See My, What a Busy Week!, pg. 23.

FRIDAY 10/27

HEARTLESS BASTARDS, MORGAN GRACE, MOONSHINE HANGOVER

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Most great bands wouldn't be complete without that voice, that huge defining voice. Try to imagine Fleetwood Mac without Stevie Nicks or Led Zeppelin without Robert Plant. Can't, right? Right, because artists like Nicks complete groups like Fleetwood Mac, in the same way Erika Wennerstrom completes Heartless Bastards. The singer/guitarist and chief songwriter has a voice so strong, so deep and sensual and magnificent, her band would disappear in a crowd without her. Which is not to say the Midwestern bluesy and soulful rock trio lacks talent, because they're quite accomplished, the music is strong and hard-hitting. But Wennerstrom lifts her group to a place where people take notice, and rightly so. Atop an impressive arrangement of steady tumbling pummels to the kit, dirty, electrified riffs, welcomed piano, and viola, Wennerstrom ruminates beautifully like an old soul on life and love, saving the band from potential obscurity—the music is grand, the voice is even grander. JT

SATURDAY 10/28

JASON WEBLEY, ARRINGTON DE DIONYSO

(The Rusty Nail, Lewis and Clark College 0615 SW Palatine Hill) As much as I hate Deadheads—and sweet jesus do I hate them—it's tough not to admire the willingness to follow a band around the country and make said band your life. While I wouldn't do the same for the Dead (if they were still around, that is) I would very much so pack up my Volks and hit the road behind Arrington de Dionyso and his superb experimental racket. I hear Jason Webley packs quite a busking-style, foot-stomping, accordion folk punch as well. PD

SHOW ME THE PINK, LKN, JONNY X AND THE GROADIES, GAY DECEIVERS, GHOSTING

(House show, 5837 NE 9th) This show is, like, quintessential Portland. How many times have you heard the Mercury rave on and on about any one of these bands? Or one of your friends? (If not, you need to get new friends.) Tonight showcases some of the best talent in town. After long hours of deliberation, the jury comes to a decision: Show Me the Pink are voted most bike-core. Jonny X and the Groadies are voted most too much Mountain Dew. Gay Deceivers are voted most gay (Who are they fooling? Certainly not us). Ghosting is voted most drone on Belmont/with or without beard. LKN is voted most hair that ghost rides the whip. Hands down, the jury has decided that every one of these bands is worth the pittance you'll pay to see them. Each performance is going to be like cracking open one of those European chocolate eggs to find an awesome plastic gun, rub-on tattoo, sponge dinosaur capsule, scratch 'n' sniff sticker, or fake gold ring to turn your finger green. Take the toy, eat the chocolate. Portland's gold. SALINA NUÑEZ See Music, pg. 27

ARTIX FEST W/SMEGMA, GANG WIZARD, SHITTY VIBE SMASHER, DISJUNCT, WE QUIT, DEATHGLEANER, BURRITO PILLOW, DRUGS, SPACEHAWK, THE BARRACKS OF AFGHANISTAN, KITTY MIDWIFE

(Satyricon, 125 NW 6th) Do you need to be convinced? Face painting, make-up, fake blood, and a grip of the most cutting-edge noise that Portland has to offer. It's that time of year again kids, and Artix is back to fuck your inner ear up. Every year, Artix is curated by a few local visionaries—this year, we are guided into the light with hosts James Squeaky (Argumentix) and Bennett Yankey (Drugs). With the legendary Smegma opening, and almost 10 other groups performing in one night, we are in for a wild and wooly ride of sonic mayhem. Noise is a genre of music (if that's what you want to call it) that is constantly being redefined. Improvisation and experimentation are key to this form of expression—and this yearly rotation of local artists sets the high bar. Artix' official statement reads, "We are goodtimes rolling in the allergens to sneeze on purpose. Our sounds are angry and introspective, but we reject nostalgia. WE FUCKING REJECT NOSTALGIA AND NOISE IS THE NEW PUNK ROCK. YESTERDAY DID NOT MATTER. PERIOD. Our art is immediate and may not exist tomorrow so don't wait." For reals, don't wait, get there early—an awesome limited edition compilation of the bands involved will be given free to the first 100 to walk through the door. In the spirit of the season, wear a costume and bring tapes and/or CD-Rs to trade—tricks and treats from Artix! SN

WHITE RAINBOW, TECUMESEH, ACRE, GHOSTING

(Valentine's, 232 SW Ankeny) How far can you space out? Can you really turn off your mind, relax, and float down stream (without drugs)? Is your strange and cluttered life too noisy to set aside and lose yourself in the tall grass and sunshine? Like clearing your thoughts for meditation, this show requires a calm, patient mindset and the ability to drone out into space. So, y'know, turn off your cell phone. That'll help. ADAM GNADE

VIVA VOCE, SILVERSUN PICKUPS, GOLDEN BEARS

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Of the spate of husband-wife bands signed by Barsuk Records this year, Viva Voce is the least cutesy. While Mates of State duet and gaze into each other's eyes and Starlight Mints play happy, bouncy pop, Viva Voce gets dark and declares—in song—"Hey y'all/we do not fuck around." Kevin and Anita Robinson have come a long way from the slab of guitar fuzz they started with in 1998—it's all rough edges and sparse riffage punctuated by Mercury Rev-style space-out vocals. Anita plays a double guitar and Kevin plays keyboard while playing the drums. They do not fuck around. JOEL HARTSE

RED FANG, LIONS, DARK SKIES, THE AX

(Towne Lounge, 714 SW 20th Pl) If you like to drink, listen to loud rock, or both, you probably already know about Red Fang. Chances are you've seen one of the bands its four veteran members have served time in. Bryan Giles plays guitar in Last of the Juanitas (when they're not on extended hiatus). Aaron Beam shredded Fucking Champs-style in Lachrymator. David Sullivan was a six-stringer in Face Down in Shit (before they signed to Relapse), and should be remembered even more for his stint in should-have-been-legends Shiny Beast. The drummer, John Sherman, is one of the tastiest hard rock drummers around, showing off his brutality in Party Time, Bad Wizard, Truman's Water, and All Night. These four men have come together to keep music lowbrow, effective, and fun. Since Red Fang are in the midst of a tour, show your support: Buy their shirts, spill their PBR, and throw them the goddamn devil horns. NATHAN CARSON

SUNDAY 10/29

PIRATES VS. NINJAS COSTUME PARTY W/SUPER PLUS, SUNKEN CHEST, FIST OF DISHONOR, SUPEREGO 99

(Ash Street Saloon, 225 SW Ash) See Music, pg. 25.

BLACK SUNDAY W/STOVOKOR, BLÖÖDHAG, MENACER, DJ PARASITIC

(Ground Kontrol, 511 NW Couch) So, last night, I was (don't laugh) watching an episode of Trading Spouses. Yankee Orthodox Jews vs. Kentucky Southern Baptists. A fascinating commentary on cultural misunderstandings and insensitivities! And then, I got to thinking about Klingons. What planet are they from? Do they believe in God? Are they particular about their dietary needs? For so long, we have wrongfully judged the Klingons in our communities, have reduced them to interplanetary stereotypes—and we can't even speak a word of their language! We should be ashamed of ourselves. I for one, have decided to challenge myself to have a better knowledge of the Klingon way of life, and would like to encourage you to do the same. Tonight, join me and other galactic types in greeting Stovokor. I'm positive that their interpretation of what we humans call "metal" will help to bridge the gap between our peoples. How do you say "one love" in Klingon anyway? SN

MONDAY 10/30

MAKE BELIEVE, ECSTATIC SUNSHINE, ADAM GNADE & THE CONFEDERATE YANKEES

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Make Believe's Tim Kinsella recently wrote a modest proposal to Alternative Press calling for the immediate dissolution of all bands within the pages of that magazine for the sake of the common good. The op-ed rant was rambling, verbose, and more or less on point, which is basically Kinsella's MO. Whether writing polemic letters to the editor or fronting one of his myriad post-everything musical projects, Kinsella's smart, heartfelt wordplay is challenging, but worth the effort. Make Believe's music is similarly brilliant and disjointed, full of interwoven guitars and unexpected rhythmic turns. ERIC GRANDY

((MICROWAVES)), brave priest

(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) Pittsburgh's (((microwaves))) have been honing their destructive no-wave influenced noise morass for many years. This will be their first time in Portland, and it's about fucking time. The band has been a proving ground for folks like Steve Moore (now bassist/synth in Zombi) and Jason Jouver (he left to join the new Don Caballero). Still standing are evil drum automaton John Roman, and guitarist/vocalist Dr. David Kuzy. Conelrad's Aaron MacGregor recently filled the empty bass spot and adds alternate throat freakouts. This lineup just signed to the killer indie label Crucial Blast, and their new album Contagion Heuristic comes out on the same day as the new Black Elk. Let's treat (((microwaves))) as extended family. Their take on music is somewhat like Deerhoof covering a team of angry construction workers demolishing a children's hospital. Or is it a black metal band deconstructing Teenage Jesus and the Jerks? Either way, it's a punch in the groin you badly need. NC

BURIED BLOOD, L'ACEPHALE, DJ VIBE COP

(Tube, 18 NW 3rd) I had the pleasure of catching Buried Blood with Nudity over at Dunes a few months back. I had no idea what I was getting myself into—I figured that the entire show would be a heavy psychedelic trip-out. Was I mistaken or what? When Buried Blood came on, I was already in "the zone," pretty spacy after a long day of work and a couple of beers. Like walking into a glass door, I was shocked into hearing some fist-pumping guitar riff axe-tion and I thought, "this is pretty good." Pretty good, but not the best that I had ever heard. And honestly, it doesn't matter to me whether it's a band of women, men, or laughing hyenas on stage. Good is good and awesome kicks ass, if you know what I mean. The strength behind Buried Blood's future success will be in the vocal ability of the lead singer, Xtine. Like Jefferson Airplane's Grace Slick, who wrapped crushed velvet around lyrics in a sensual baritone, Xtine's voice takes center stage. Two totally different styles, but very similar in core. If you make the effort to separate her voice from the band's noisy Sabbath-esque din, you'll find a treasure. The fact of the matter is, Buried Blood would be just another basement metal band if it wasn't for Xtine's growling and thundering prowess. SN

TUESDAY 10/31

RABBITS, ACRE, TECUMSEH, WARHAMMER 48K

(Dunes, NE 1905 MLK) Definitely one of the more deceptively titled bands in town, Rabbits are about as soft and domicile as a Boa Constrictor. Featuring Joshua Hughes, formerly of VSS and Pleasure Forever, the band is a lurching colossus of irony free future-metal. On the other side of the sonic spectrum is Olympia's Acre (though he's moving to Portland soon), a solo ambient act with a tonal polish akin to minimalist artists like Gas or Main. To put it more concisely, imagine a frozen loop of the Blade Runner soundtrack humming for 20 minutes and you'll have Acre pretty much pinned down. It's always a little disappointing when All Hallow's Eve falls on a weekday, but with a lineup this dark and varied, Dunes is definitely the place to be for those of you able to burn the midnight oil. JOSH BLANCHARD

MOUNT EERIE, JASON ANDERSON, WHITE FANG

(The Artistery, 4315 SE Division) See Music, pg. 25.

MOUNT EERIE

(Reed Chapel, 3203 SE Woodstock) See Music, pg. 25.

WEDNESDAY 11/1

ALAN SINGLEY & PANTS MACHINE, THE PINK SNOWFLAKES, AAN, HEAVY LIDS

(Berbati's, 10 SW 3rd) There was a time when the Flaming Lips weren't so... well... tight. I love the Flaming Lips, but I really loved them during their Telepathic Surgery era when it seemed they were always on the verge of coming apart at the seams. That's exactly what the Pink Snowflakes sound like. Forgive the comparison, but in this instance, I provide it in the most loving way possible. It's all there: the wavering but pure voice (like your own inner voice breaking through to you during a rough trip), the squalls of fearful feedback leading into sunshiny halls. Doors slamming into acoustically strummed big beats and butterflies sliding down a rainbow into groove-sticky organs. Put it all in tasty wad of bubblegum and just chew. Can you dig it? LC