SPINDERELLA, REV. SHINES, OHMEGA WATTS, DJ KEZ, DJ DUNDIGGY
(Someday Lounge, 125 NW 5th) See Music Feature.
BENEFIT FOR UMBRELLA: SAD HORSE, SARAH WINCHESTER, SARAH DOUGHER, JANET PANTS, MATTRESS, RUSH-N-DISCO, TARA JANE O'NEIL, DJ MIKE McGONIGAL
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) This summer, video artist and writer Cat Tyc is making a short film called Umbrella. "It's a script I wrote about a woman who processes her unexpected pregnancy in a sort of surreal way," she says with understatement. "A man begins to follow her around, thwacking her on the head with an umbrella." Tonight's benefit will raise funds for the production, whose original grant money fell through. What's more, $2 of your admission goes to benefit both Planned Parenthood and the Rock 'n' Roll Camp for Girls, which is entirely rad. Tonight's performers are all on the experimental, eclectic end of the spectrum, and Mike McGonigal—the man responsible for Yeti magazine and the Halleluwah music festival—will spin platters in between sets. There's also a raffle, with prizes including two cases of MacTarnahan's, 10 Plexifilm DVDs, the entire catalog of the Journal of Short Film, and a basketball signed by all the Portland Trail Blazers. NED LANNAMANN
MODERNSTATE, MR. FREDERICK, LEVIETHAN, NOT YETI STARSHIP
(Goodfoot, 2845 SE Stark) At what point does one become recognized as a pillar of Portland's music community? I'm not talking about some kind of lifetime achievement award, just an understanding—that guy, he's got his head and heart in the right place, you know? How one gets there, I suppose, varies. But I know Sam Schauer is part of the discussion. As Modernstate—his one-man, guitar-looping, drum-mashing solo project—Sam has been thrilling us for years now. And there is his work with ...worms, plus numerous others as well. Not to mention he's a soundman here, a recording engineer there, and probably a whole truckload of other shit I'm not hip to. So yeah, Sam's kept it near and dear, close to the heart. But after all the pointless fluff and who's who discussion, it all comes back to Modernstate, which at this point, Sam just totally owns. He flicks the whole thing between sweet 'n' soulful to screaming beautifully, and with ease—a call and response to mood and surrounding. ANDREW R TONRY
DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE, ROGUE WAVE
(Edgefield, 2126 SW Halsey, Troutdale) So now what, Death Cab? The band's first Portland—er, Troutdale—show in a couple years comes on the heels of Narrow Stairs, their serene and well-balanced sixth album. The once painfully shy Bellingham band is now reluctantly perched atop the music industry—with the new album debuting at number one on the charts—in the somewhat uncomfortable position of being one of the last big American rock bands (ever?). It's a bit ironic given the band's unapologetically nerdy personalities, but this new album, like most anything local boy Chris Walla touches, is texturally rich and sounds absolutely immaculate. While it won't convert haters into believers, Narrow Stairs is just another in a series of perfectly executed, absolutely pristine pop records. I suppose there isn't anything wrong with that. EZRA ACE CARAEFF
RISK VS. REWARD: PACIFIC UV, INSIDE VOICES, DJ RY RY, DJ METRONOME
(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) With whatever genre you want to try and label Pacific UV, it just isn't going to fit. The band—while always sounding fully together and cohesive—skirt so many styles with such little effort that it's quite remarkable. Hell, their songs (which tend to land epic-side of things) often go through numerous transformations themselves, ranging from shoegaze to dream pop, and from psyche to post-rock. And whether they're layering white noise guitars over pretty piano lines, kicking into some fierce guitar solos, or gazing at their shoes, the band never sounds like they're trying to switch it up at all. Pacific UV's songs just fluidly move through their natural buildups and progressions, which makes Longplay 2, their latest record, a fantastic and fulfilling listen. ROB SIMONSEN
EARTH, WIND & FIRE
(Clark County Amphitheater, 17200 NE Delfel, Ridgefield, WA) See My, What a Busy Week!.
LESLIE & THE LYS
(Satyricon, 125 NW 6th) See My, What a Busy Week!.
EARTH, JESSE SYKES, CHRISTOPHER FRANCIS
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) There's that whole realm of country music that rejoices in the simplicity of the two-step, the major chords, and the easy everyman chorus. Then there's that pasty-white underbelly, that weird subset that linked Johnny Cash to Robert Mitchum's character in The Night of the Hunter. The good ol' days weren't meant to be eulogized with frivolous honky-tonk. The past was a bleak place and the heart continues to be a grim and barren landscape. Tonight will not yield simple, sad cowboy songs—rather, it will showcase songs of desolation and emptiness. If Earth's Morricone-inspired instrumentals don't thoroughly devastate you, Jesse Sykes's sultry minor-key ballads certainly will. BRIAN COOK
(Roseland Grill, 8 NW 6th) Every Sunday night, KUFO hosts an all-local music show named after the legendary La Luna club, and tonight celebrates the radio show's one-year anniversary. Fittingly, the bill is all local, and every band is a bruiser. Vancouver, Washington's Alliance plays radio punk with a twist of emo, with thunk-a-thunk power chords and singer Adam Mott alternating between girlish vocals and throat-wrenching screams. Meanwhile, Red Fang makes riffy thunderclap metal, equal parts Motörhead and '90s grunge. Kleveland plays badass garage rock, like Joan Jett and Iggy Pop tag-teaming during a death match in the Thunderdome. And closing things out is the fearsome metal crunch of Black Elk, sounding like a red-eyed, razor-toothed prehistoric beast that—if you managed to kill one and make jerky out of it—would immediately poison you to death. NL
HERE COMES EVERYBODY, CHARMPARTICLES, ECHO HELSTROM, JON GARCIA
(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) Remember when Mr. Perkins, your stodgy old chemistry teacher, came down with Ebola and was replaced by Mr. Hamm, the younger, cooler, better-looking substitute? The folks behind Here Comes Everybody (René Ormae-Jarmer and Michael Jarmer) are just that: hip educators by day, (soft) rockers by night. The Veronica Project is the latest from a band that has been around since 1986 (you know, back when you were still in school), and while the record swells with adult contemporary jazz-pop hooks and an air of mature confidence, it's also terribly safe—a perfect fit for any Boz Scaggs fan burned out on Silk Degrees. Word around the water cooler is that The Veronica Project really gets that teachers' lounge rocking. EAC
WEINLAND, NORFOLK & WESTERN, A WEATHER
(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) See My, What a Busy Week!.
SLUTS & SQUARES: DJ SHIMMY, DJ VERSE, DJ CORBAN
(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) See Music Feature.
PURE COUNTRY GOLD, THE MEAN JEANS, TRADITIONAL FOOLS, THE FLIP-TOPS
(Tonic Lounge, 3100 NE Sandy) See Once More with Feeling.
PLANTS, THE DEAD TREES
(East End, 203 SE Grand) It's a horticulturally themed night at East End! I think this is an accident, though, so you can leave at home your leafy crowns and that breastplate you constructed out of twigs and moss. Or don't—it could be appropriate garb for listening to psychedelic ensemble Plants, who excavate the medieval, nature-tastic sound of far-out '60s psyche-folk for music that is both soothing and ominous. They keep things rolling at a low, earthy boil, with tension coming from lightly spattered percussion and droning strings. Meanwhile, the Dead Trees have a name that sounds downright morbid in comparison, but their music is joyful garage pop, with a heaping portion of melody, a bit of slackerish angst in the vocals, and some pretty goddamn sweet guitar shredding in the live show. NL
(Orange Room, 10818 NW St. Helens) While on your way to Sauvie Island (to pick berries, or tan at the nude beach, or perhaps both) you'll drive past the Orange Room. The former Linnton courthouse is now a residence and practice space, and from time to time the orange dwellers swing open their doors (and their epic porch) to the masses. While the spastic keyboard punk of Fist Fite and the angular precision pop of Reporter will surely get the temperature rising, keep in mind that the cooling waters of the Willamette are just a short stroll away. If horror (and shark) movies have taught me anything, it's that nothing can possibly go wrong when one sneaks off to take a late-night dip in mysterious waters. EAC
TYPHOON, EVOLUTIONARY JASS BAND, ESKIMO & SONS
(The Artistery, 4315 SE Division) Typhoon is big; lots of people play lots of instruments and sing a whole heck of a lot. Most of the stuff is acoustic and twinkly, with autoharps and mandolins, and they have at least two songs titled "Sea Shanty," but this is hardly collegiate Decemberists armchair-traveling fare. Rather, Typhoon embodies the delicate, ecstatic wanderlust of Beirut by way of the scythe-folk of the Builders and the Butchers. They're wrapping up a West Coast tour—with Boy Gorilla labelmates Eskimo & Sons, who are also on the bill tonight—and have reportedly been working on some new material... and you just might get to hear some of it, which is exciting, because it's been a while since Typhoon's communal, all-hands-on-deck sing-alongs have graced a full-length album. NL
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) See My, What a Busy Week!.
THE SABBATH: HENNES SISTE HØST, ANON REMORA, DJ NATE C
(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) When it comes to black metal, Norway has us beat. No question—even with Chicago's Nachtmystium wowing Norse legends Dimmu Borgir ("It really sounded interesting, so I'm going to check it up," said Borgir's Silenoz, badly, in April), and New York's Peter Beste presiding as the demon genre's photographer of choice. But when it comes to straight-up rock 'n' roll, the United States wins: Ya don't fuck with the eagle, to borrow a phrase from our 6-foot-6-inch nationalist mascot, Type O Negative's Peter Steele. Hennes Siste Høst plays to the strengths of a band whose members grew up in the shadow of Babes in Toyland, not Bathory. The genre-bender's debut album, Høst, suffers, shrieks, and rides a few punkish power chords, as if Enthrone Darkness Triumphant had a Cindy Sherman album cover. Domestic black metal is rarely this honest. MIKE MEYER
STRANGERS DIE EVERY DAY, COLT VISTA, AAN
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Brace yourself for an evening of enchanted post-rock, as Strangers Die Every Day take their first headlining turn at Holocene. Sonically driven by cello player Jessie Dettwiler, the band take as much inspiration from Mahler as from Mogwai. It's a versatility few bands of their genre can pull off, but they do it, and quite gracefully as well. Opening the show are Colt Vista, who are equally intricate if largely more rock-based, and AAN, who—while seemingly more "traditional" (they have vocals, for one)—betray more complexity on repeated listens. If you are the type that counts down the days until Explosions in the Sky comes to town, you won't find a better local show than this. HANNAH CARLEN
(Edgefield, 2126 SW Halsey) See My, What a Busy Week!.
THE CONSTANTINES, LADYHAWK, THE WEATHER UNDERGROUND
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) See Music Feature.
THANKSGIVING, GROUPER, Ô PAON
(The Artistery, 4315 SE Division) Thanksgiving is the primary moniker of Adrian Orange, who, in addition to Thanksgiving, has a dizzying number of additional projects, styles, and undertakings. As Thanksgiving, Orange takes a turn that puts lilting, folk-based songwriting first, immediately recalling Will Oldham or Bill Callahan, but stretching further to something akin to outsider art. There's a lot more to love about Orange, whose musical range also includes the instrumental Watery Graves, and co-founding one of Portland's finest record labels (Marriage Records). If there's anything to complain about, it might be a wish for him to sit still a minute and enjoy one project more fully before bouncing to the next. But it's a selfish complaint, and if an artist of his profile can still take the time to play the Artistery, I'm all for shutting my trap and letting him do whatever he damn well pleases. HC
GREG GINN & THE TAYLOR TEXAS CORRUGATORS, JAMBANG
(Tonic Lounge, 3100 NE Sandy) Black Flag guitarist/eternal flame Greg Ginn came from an era in American punk where there was a great deal of reintegration and reevaluation of the elements of the earliest rock 'n' roll; contemporaries like X and the Cramps employed these strains pretty explicitly while others, like Ginn, dealt with them more gesturally. However, with his current quartet, the Taylor Texas Corrugators, his embrace of the mantle of ancient rock 'n' roll is complete and loving. Led by Ginn's ever-fried melodic riffs, the group make rough-edged, Link Wray–esque instrumentals that could have as easily come from 1958 as from 2008, but with a purity of intent that lends them an easy, appealing grace. SAM MICKENS
BLOWUPNIHILIST, DON THE READER, BLACK SHEEP WALL, DJ NATE C
(Tube, 18 NW 3rd) Innovative electro-metal band Genghis Tron has gotten a lot of attention this year, and rightly so. Board up the House is a supremely jolting affair, an album that knows the key to a good surprise is suspense. But championing Genghis Tron for its lack of drummer and bassist would be overlooking the reality that not only can a trio now play massive, dramatic music, but one man can play it too. Vancouver solo noise-grinder blowupnihilist—whose real name is Andre Sanabria—conjures the wait-for-it splatter of Genghis Tron, the spaceship-crash blood-mulch of the Locust, and the cold breaks of chip music—all from the grounded perspective of a hardcore punk. Sanabria has already survived one flipped van in spreading blowupnihilist around, but by the sound of it, nothing can stop him. MM
NURSES, THE DEAD TREES
(Valentine's, 232 SW Ankeny) Holy shit, it's summer! No, really: This time, it is. Finally. And not just because the calendar says so—it's in the air. It's in a trip to the river and falling in love and all that warm, bright, squinty shit all over again. Thank you, Sun God, and thank you, Nurses, who embody this spirit in sound. Truly, these four sweet, fresh-faced little fuckers are the real deal and this is their summer. They own it. It's only a matter of time until this city figures out where it's at. In the close comforts of Valentine's—where the band excels—you can welcome Nurses back from a recent West Coast tour. They'll welcome you with swirling melodies that'll take you underwater to where the sunbeams bend. It's a glorious, celebratory thing, one you could use almost as much as a tan. ART
THE JET AGE, THE HUGS, TOY SOLDIERS
(Towne Lounge, 714 SW 20th Pl) See Music Feature.
MAGIC JOHNSON, THE ASCETIC JUNKIES, ERIC JOHN KAISER
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) See My, What a Busy Week!.
SKARP, SUPERBAD, RETARD RIOT, TRANSIENT, FOGATRON
(Satyricon, 125 NW 6th) It was an unfortunate coincidence for local grindcore band Superbad when a teen comedy bearing the same moniker was released last year. Fortunately, their blistering musical assault remains unspoiled—complete with lyrics about Dune and local hot dog emporium Zach's Shack that are shouted, growled, and screamed over the machine-like drumming of (possible) cyborg Isaac Davis. Fresh off a full US tour, Seattle's Skarp return to Portland, brandishing their patented brand of female-fronted grind and complemented by Portland's own female-fronted brutality, Transient. ZACH BROOKS