WEDNESDAY 3/19

GENDERS, STILL CAVES, NEW MOVE
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) See My, What a Busy Week!

JOHN MORELAND, THE DAMN FAMILY, MICHAEL DEAN DAMRON
(Dante's, 350 W Burnside) Read our article about John Moreland.

A VOLCANO, VALKYRIE RODEO, MUSCLE AND MARROW
(Slabtown, 1033 NW 16th) A Volcano continues to make some of the most bone-rattling "cavenoise" this city has to offer. The larger-than-life two-piece includes Johnny Brooke (vocals and guitar) and Jesse Chambers (drums), whose combined power and volume make them a force to be reckoned with. Tonight is the release of their 7-inch, A Place to Get Sick; together, its two sides make one epic song. If you've never caught the duo, see them at their freshest and grittiest. A Place to Get Sick is a bit darker than A Volcano's past releases—it's a sound you'll definitely want to witness in person. RACHEL MILBAUER

NILS FRAHM, DOUGLAS DARE
(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) The upcoming appearance by German composer and musician Nils Frahm is a worrisome one. Not for what we're going to hear coming from the stage, but because Portland audiences tend to be unnecessarily chatty during live shows. Frahm's music relies on delicacy and understatement, and even his loudest electronic passages reveal subtle depths that I fear will be lost amid the dull nattering of the typical local showgoer. I'm holding out hope that Frahm's fans will come out en masse and bring the right kind of respectful hush to the room tonight. If not, I hope you chatterboxes are ready to be pelted with ice cubes. ROBERT HAM

DAYDREAM MACHINE, FUTURE TWIN, SOUVENIR DRIVER
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) The stage at the Doug Fir may get a bit cramped when all six members of neo-psych band Daydream Machine take to it in celebration of the release of their new album, Twin Idols. That shouldn't faze the Portland band, though, as they always seem to effortlessly find a comfortable common wavelength during their spaced-out live shows. True to their name, Daydream Machine allow the listener the opportunity to drift off, especially on "And I Love Her," a lovely eight-minute track that first appeared on the band's debut EP, and has since been revamped with the addition of some finely tuned vocal harmonies. Tonight, Twin Idols' wandering guitar strands and intertwined voices should make for an especially fine digestif, following the not-to-be-missed hallucinatory barnyard-blitz jamboree thrown by San Francisco's Future Twin. CHIPP TERWILLIGER

DRUNK DAD, HE WHOSE OX IS GORED, HUNGERS, REDNECK
(East End, 203 SE Grand) Drunk Dad rocks somewhere between early ’80s hardcore and early ’90s Amphetamine Reptile, with a NWOBHM lick thrown in for good measure—performed while completely wasted. The Portland four-piece is finishing up their first LP, called Ripperkiller, which promises more of the same (more of the shame?). Drunk Dad have played with everyone—Red Fang, Gaytheist, Usnea, just to name a few—and they’re joined tonight by another ripping band of note: Seattle’s He Who Ox Is Gored, who throws flowers before your feet before stomping them to death. MARK LORE

MUFASSA, ALI MUHAREB, MATTHEW ULM
(Kelly's Olympian, 426 SW Washington) Ali Muhareb (formerly of Talkative) released the album Mujahedeen quietly late last year. The six electronic and world-tinged tracks are fluid and masterful. By looping samples and other pre-recorded tracks, Muhareb makes songs that are exciting and upbeat, without congesting them with too much noise and distortion. The songs range from fuzzy, slow melodies to dance-ier numbers, reminiscent of everything from Moby to Youth Lagoon—as a collection they flow into one another and make you want to listen on repeat. It's Muhareb's last Portland show before he departs for Hong Kong and Berlin, so this will be your only chance for a while to check out this promising up-and-comer. RM

THURSDAY 3/20

MOUNT EERIE, ARRINGTON DE DIONYSO, KEY LOSERS
(Information Warehouse, 411 SE 6th) Mount Eerie's late-2013 release, Pre-Human Ideas, filtered Phil Elverum's nuanced songcraft from previous albums Clear Moon and Ocean Roar through the digital ringer. Elverum's experimental leanings have been well documented, from his abandonment of the successful Microphones moniker to forays into his own version of black metal (2009's Wind's Poem). The interpretations on Pre-Human Ideas are meant to be mostly that: Elverum's previously humanoid compositions are tinseled with pitch-corrected silliness and MIDI-fied vignettes of trance-y mellowness. Whether Elverum chases that same vibe at this show or not, you will likely be engaged. RYAN J. PRADO

THE WONDER YEARS, FIREWORKS, REAL FRIENDS, CITIZEN, MODERN BASEBALL
(Hawthorne Theatre, 1507 SE César E. Chávez) Nineties emo revivalists du jour Modern Baseball's new record, You're Gonna Miss It All, debuted at number 84, one spot ahead of Daughtry and five behind Nickelback. While it's common knowledge that the charts are something of a ghost town, the staggering juxtaposition of a DIY band with major-label juggernauts on a list of best-selling records is statistical proof that perhaps there's something to this "emo comeback" after all (beyond a bunch of music writers lazily taking cues from each other). Are Modern Baseball the Nirvana of said resurgence? Probably not, but that doesn't mean they aren't worth the print space: You're Gonna Miss It All is a well-conceived and thoroughly enjoyable pop record whose prime cuts ("Rock Bottom," "Apartment," "Your Graduation") sound like the Weakerthans/Smoking Popes synthesis that exists in my dreams. Look out, Nickelback—your days are numbered. MORGAN TROPER

BIG BLACK CLOUD, MARRIAGE + CANCER, POLST
(Foggy Notion, 3416 N Lombard) If you snoozed on Big Black Cloud's Black Friday, then you've got some homework to do as soon as you put this paper down and/or get off the computer. Go buy it, like, yesterday. The local wrecking trio used to go by the more unwieldy moniker of Here Comes a Big Black Cloud, and were a sprawling, psychedelic garage-rock group. They've gotten a lot leaner and meaner since dropping half their name, and now they're cranking out much more menacing noise-rock. Last year's Black Friday is what they were warning us about this whole time. MATTHEW W. SULLIVAN

FRIDAY 3/21

YELLOW OSTRICH, PATTERN IS MOVEMENT, THUMPERS
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) See My, What a Busy Week!

IKONIKA, MAGIC FADES, LINCOLNUP, BEN TACTIC
(The Rose, 111 SW Ash) Read our article about Ikonika.

THE BLACK CLOUDS, MYTHOLOGICAL HORSES, BEAT TOTEM, DJ MISS PRID
(East End, 203 SE Grand) Anchorage/Seattle band Mythological Horses are centered on the songs of one-time Portlander Shawn Holley; the band's bassist, Tim Janchar, lives here in town and co-runs Hovercraft Records, which recently released the group's self-titled album. That album is a fizzy lifting drink of a record, with buzz and gunk gleefully smeared all over its 12 tracks. Holley's unhinged, squealing voice gives the initial impression that this is a slapdash affair, but Mythological Horses have made a watertight, effervescent, fun-as-hell rock 'n' roll record, with more than a few classics tucked in its vinyl grooves (try to shake opener "Cold Heart" from your brain after dropping the needle). The band plays Portland tonight, and you should make the trip down to East End's tiny cellar to get your mitts on a copy. NED LANNAMANN

SPIRIT CARAVAN, VHÖL, PILGRIM, EIGHT BELLS
(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) Scott "Wino" Weinrich can do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. He could write an album on the ukulele and have the Muppets as his backup band, and it would still be heavy, soulful, doomy, and downright perfect. In fact, the only other guitar player in the world who has the same all-around riff mastery is probably the king himself, Tony Iommi. Since Wino surfaced in the mid '70s, the list of projects he's started or contributed to has grown exponentially. Any of the bands he created over the years would be a welcome sight to see resurrected. Along with the recent rebirth of Saint Vitus, Wino has decided to grace us with Spirit Caravan as well. With two full-lengths, an EP, and a two-disc compilation released during six short years in the late '90s and early '00s, Spirit Caravan was still able to have a major impact and influence on the hard-rock community. Like all of Wino's projects, the band features his gruff voice and epic songwriting skills. ARIS WALES

ZAKIR HUSSAIN AND MASTERS OF PERCUSSION
(Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall, 1037 SW Broadway) Zakir Hussain is rightly called a maestro of the tabla. The Mumbai-born percussionist has such command of his chosen instrument that he's collaborated with musicians of all stripes from Grateful Dead drummer Mickey Hart to freak-jazz bassist Bill Laswell. Even on his own, Hussain is a wonder to listen to, with speedy rumbles and intoxicating melodicism pulled from just a pair of hand drums. Tonight, he performs backed by Masters of Percussion, an ensemble that includes the brilliant sitarist Niladri Kumar and sarangi player Dilshad Khan. RH

SATURDAY 3/22

RÜFÜS DU SOL, AIRSPORTS, MIRACLES CLUB
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) See My, What a Busy Week!

PERFECT PUSSY, LONG KNIFE, RAW NERVES, ROTTIES
(Slabtown, 1033 NW 16th) Read our article about Perfect Pussy.

SAINTSENECA, VIKESH KAPOOR, BATTLEHOOCH
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Read our article about Saintseneca.

NAOMI PUNK, THE FUNS, US HARD
(Discourage Records, 1737 SE Morrison) Given their uncompromising courage in helping to foster a music scene in the face of resistance, it's rather fitting that the Funs hail straight from the Heartland. Formed by Jessee Rose Crane and Philip Jerome Lesicko in St. Louis back in 2008, the duo quickly relocated to Chicago, where they honed their loud and fuzzy art-punk in basements and warehouses, battling police shutdowns nearly every step of the way. The Funs recently left the city for greener pastures, setting up shop at an abandoned house in Southern Illinois from which Lesicko nurtures his lo-fi cassette label, Manic Static, and the two play host to touring bands in need of sanctuary. The group's self-titled debut is chockfull of menacing guitar chugs, steady drumming, and infectiously scrappy vocals, giving the album a blown-out sound that's fully capable of producing delicately crafted, anthemic moments. CT

SUNDAY 3/23

DANIEL ROSSEN, WILLIAM TYLER
(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) See My, What a Busy Week!

LINDA PERHACS, JIM CAMACHO
(The Old Church, 1422 SW 11th) Even in a time when reissue labels are unearthing a parade of long-lost, under-appreciated musical greats, 44 years is a long haul between albums. That's the time that passed between Linda Perhacs' 1970 debut Parallelograms and her sophomore effort, The Soul of All Natural Things, released this month by Asthmatic Kitty Records. Perhacs was a dental hygienist in LA when she was discovered by a big-time film composer, and she returned to that career after Parallelograms was under-promoted and sold poorly. But over the past four decades, it has gained a cult following—Devendra Banhart, Daft Punk, Julia Holter, and the main dude from Opeth are fans—which has led to the new record. Soul is a wide-eyed wonder of an album, with gauzy, psychedelic folk jams acting as the backdrop for Perhacs' celestially serene voice and sky-reaching spiritual incantations. It was worth the wait, and her concert Sunday at the Old Church should be sublime. BEN SALMON

WARM SODA, BIG TITS
(Star Bar, 639 SE Morrison) It's an event in and of itself when the teeny confines of Star Bar hosts a show, and it's another thing when the show in question features two of the more buzzed-about Bay Area power-punk revival crews. The elemental catchiness of Oakland's Warm Soda is on full display on their new album, Young Reckless Hearts, which features glam-tastic sneering from frontman Matthew Melton, Heartbreakers-worthy guitar leads, and enough saccharine-sweet melodies and sing-along moments for even the staunchest first-wave loyalist to bite. Both Warm Soda and Big Tits are fresh off the whirlwind of SXSW, so hopefully they'll be used to overcrowded venues and makeshift stage areas. RJP

MONDAY 3/24

ST. VINCENT, NOVELLER
(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) If you managed to catch St. Vincent in the early days, back when she was playing small rooms as a one-woman band armed with an effects board of mini-epic proportions, then you know Annie Clark has been anointed from the start. The music has always been there, and while that's continued to morph and evolve over the course of four albums (plus last year's Love This Giant collaboration with David Byrne), the real metamorphosis has been Clark's confidence as a performer. Once doe-eyed, her current onstage swagger is unmistakable these days. She shreds, as they say, and her guitar prowess is delivered by a presence that suggests Kate Bush meets Frankenstein's Bride. She's also been known to hurl her small frame headlong into her crowds—although the Crystal Ballroom's all-ages section may dissuade from that kind of thing. In short, St. Vincent is one of the most dynamic live acts going. She comes to town with an excellent new record and a newly platinum shock of hair. JEREMY PETERSEN Also see My, What a Busy Week!

AGAINST ME!, LAURA STEVENSON, CHEAP GIRLS
(Hawthorne Theatre, 1507 SE César E. Chávez) Transgender Dysphoria Blues, Against Me!'s latest record and their first since singer/songwriter Laura Jane Grace publicly came out as transgender, actually endured a considerable gestation period. Tracks were reportedly recorded, scrapped, and re-recorded several times, with the grueling process even resulting in the resignation of two long-time members. Oddly though, the album is the most aggressive and organic-sounding record Against Me! have ever released. There's a lot of very real, individual pain on display here, but Grace has succeeded in communicating a difficult and perhaps recondite subject—gender dysphoria—in an eminently relatable way. "Drinking with Jocks" might be the swiftest and most merciless incursion on shitty bro culture ever conceived. And the fist-pumping, Springsteen-via-Fat Wreck Chords manifestos "Transgender Dysphoria Blues" and "FUCKMYLIFE666" are all particularly poignant on the heels of Grace's announcement. There's nothing to dislike about Transgender Dysphoria Blues—assuming you aren't one of its targets. MT Also see My, What a Busy Week!

SKI LODGE, THE BELLE GAME
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) It's as much Andrew Marr's "pashernate" croon as it is his surname that has managed to raise the name of the Smiths in nearly every review you'll read about his band, Ski Lodge. May as well throw Andy Rourke and Mike Joyce into that mix while we're at it, since Marr (no relation to Johnny) wrote and played every part on all but one song on last year's Big Heart debut. Yes, there's some Manchester in the Brooklyn band's sound, but a good dose of summery East Coast jangle helps them steer clear of anglophile pastiche. Songs like "Anything to Hurt You" and "Dragging Me to Hell" belie their titles, and bounce along in that time-honored pop tradition that finds heads bobbing to songs inspired by the worst of feelings. If this is mopey, who needs happy? JP

TUESDAY 3/25

THE FUNS, COMA SERFS, JOLLAPIN JASPER, MISTER TANG
(East End, 203 SE Grand) See Saturday’s listing.

TOADIES, SUPERSUCKERS, BATTLEME
(Wonder Ballroom, 128 NE Russell) Toadies will always have a place in my heart. They were often lumped in with the rest of the post-grunge slop, but that's shortsighted and lazy. The band had the fortunate misfortune of having a lasting modern rock hit with "Possum Kingdom," a great song that gave their 1994 debut LP, Rubberneck, some legs, but also relegated them to being the "do you wanna diiiiieeeee?" band. (For me, their follow-up, 2001's Hell Below/Stars Above, is where it's at.) But Toadies always had a little more to offer—the dual guitar leads, their Texas fuck-all twang, and the maniacal yowl of guitarist-vocalist Vaden Todd Lewis. The band has released new material over the past five years, but since we've hit the 20th anniversary of Rubberneck they're playing the full album, which will be great, if only for "I Burn." That said, I'll be (the only guy) there in seven years when they do Hell Below/Stars Above in its entirety. ML Also see My, What a Busy Week!

WEEKEND, CITIES AVIV, GRAVE BABIES
(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) San Francisco band Weekend is like the San Antonio Spurs of indie rock: Both do many things well, but the end result isn't quite spectacular. On its 2010 debut album, coincidentally titled Sports, Weekend's own big three—Abe Pedroza, Shaun Durkan, and Kevin "not the former Phoenix Suns point guard" Johnson—proved themselves able practitioners of lo-fi noise-pop that chugged along at a post-punk pace; think motorik rhythms, six-stringed squalls, and vocals recorded from the bottom of a well. On last year's Jinx, the band competently layered on short blasts of Jesus and Mary Chain-style shoegaze and downcast new wave à la the Cure, while sharpening its songwriting and cleaning up its sound. Jinx is a very good record, but it will not blow you away; it is fundamentally solid, but rarely flashy. Like the Spurs, Weekend is enjoyable and worthy of respect, but unlikely to incite a passionate response. BS